#wasn't his name caleb or something

[travisdermotts]

1:30 am and I'm thinking about that fucko that reached over and caught moustakas' homer in the 2015 alcs

[captainmera]

completely random question, but what are evelyn’s sisters like? e.g. their relationship to evelyn, possible dynamic with caleb, personalities, etc…

i really enjoy the way you flesh out evelyn and caleb, giving them backstories and families of their own. they’re all so compelling!

THE CLAWTHORNE SISTERS:

Wendy is conflicted between resentment and love. While Evelyn has always looked up to Wendy and admired her.

Bronwen moved out when Evelyn was still little, and with Ev having trouble getting friends, she was often shoehorned into hanging out with Wendy. Which Wendy hated. Wendy sought refuge with friends outside the home, and always being told to bring Evelyn only fuelled the annoyance.

Evelyn has always been an easy target for both bullying and being taken advantaged of. And Wendy has always stood up for her, and also shoved her out of her room.

Bronwen is a mediator between the sisters. When she was recently moved out (with then boyfriend, now husband) she was still visiting a lot to look after her sister's wellbeing.

Their mother plays favourite with Evelyn, which neglects the sisters in different ways.

- Evelyn gets put under too much pressure and can't say no, and thinks her purpose in life is to always be helpful: even at the loss of herself.

- Wendy gets put at the wayside, treated as Evelyn's chaperone and not somebody who has her own life or schedule. She's often told that "for the family" she has to drop everything, for Evelyn. She wouldn't hate doing it, if it wasn't forced.

- Bronwen and her parents never saw eye-to-eye. She has always been a rebel that questioned the way they did things. If she didn't want to do it like that, she wouldn't! And it was the cause of many fights. Bronwen rejected the pressures of becoming "important" early on.

Unfortunately, her fighting spirit only made Wendy not want to fight. She didn't like all the arguing, and instead opted to be compliant. Which only gave her a lack of autonomy in the end. While Evelyn never learned to choose herself at all.

Bronwen has a bunch of kids that becomes the founding seeds of the Clawthorne clan (alongside Evelyn & Caleb's kid, but they're a different branch of the clan.)

CALEB:

At first, the Clawthornes thought Caleb was a magic-less witch by the name Jasper Bloodwilliams. He was wearing a hat that covered his ears when he first visited the realm.

He made up the cover story on a whim that he and Evelyn bumped into each other as researchers in the human realm. That he, too, was interested in humans because (as Evelyn's reason also were) "Humans don't have magic and get by just fine!"

Wendy has never met another half-witch before, and is both happy and a little upset that this is Evelyn's friend. (she's a lesbian guys, don't worry, no triangle drama here.)

Once she finds out he's a human, though, she's upset at Evelyn. She thinks the reason Evelyn "researches magic-less solution" is because she's trying to find a consolation price for Wendy.

Caleb mends the bridge between the sisters by telling Wendy about what Evelyn has been up to in the human-realm. They have a heart-to-heart, bonding over being older siblings who have to give something up for the younger ones.

Bronwen and Caleb have a meaningful conversation about moving away from people you love. Choosing himself, choosing to let go of the past, that sort of thing.

Caleb, via the Clawthorne's, grows increasingly more self-aware of his situation with Philip and how it's not a very healthy one. Mainly on his part. And tries to figure out what he can do.

[moonmeg]

The basket she carried in the crook of her arm dropped to the grass. She stood there. Paralyzed by the sight.

All the soil surrounding a hole in the earth where an empty coffin, marked by its years under the earth, faced her. The glass vase with a candle inside she had put up was nothing but shambles and crumbs. The flowers that had grown over the time destroyed.

The tombstone was tilted. Everything was ruined. And she couldn't do or say anything. Time had frozen.

Her body began to shiver. Every breath became heavier the longer she stared at what once was her husband's grave. Not even Robyn's worried "Mama?" could bring her to move her eyes from the chaos.

It did snap her back to the moment and she knew she couldn't keep Robyn here.

"Go back with Opal, sprout. I'll be right behind you.", she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Mama-"

"GO. BACK.", Catherine snapped.

Robyn flinched upon the tone his mother used. He was only a child but he was not blind. His father's dug up grave and empty coffin horrified him just as much as he could see it horrified his mother. He stared at her, hoping she'd turn her face to look at him but Catherine was like a lifeless statue. The only sign of movement was her shoulders and hands tensing and the the tears pricking at her eyes.

Opal began pulling at Robyn's loose strand of hair to get him to move away from this view of horror.

He obliged but only hesitantly. He didn't want to leave his mother's side. Not in a moment like this. He hated seeing Mama sad and in pain. Not that Catherine let Robyn see her vulnerable side often. She puts on smiles for him and hopes he will not notice how broken she actually is. But Robyn knew. He knew Mama was just playing a game of pretend but he didn't want her to continue it. He didn't want her to bury her emotions in front of him, yet he couldn't let her know that.

"Opal, wait!", he called out for the dove, "we can't go too far ahead."

Robyn turns to look at his mother, who still stood at the same place in front of the grave.

"We should wait for Mama."

Catherine's legs couldn't hold her any longer at this point. She broke down to the soil and let her emotions flow. She yelped in the agony of having lost Caleb a second time. Tears streamed down her face as her thoughts raced. She had finally learned to live with her beloved gone and she had finally moved on. The stinging pain she used to feel when thinking of Caleb and the imagery of his final moments had been something she healed from. Now that healing progress was crumbled into nothing. The terrible pain and heartache, the pictures.... everything was back.

Catherine clenched the grass beneath her in anger as she realized just who is responsible for her misery.

There was no other person who possibly would have a motive. No other person would ruin and take away a place so sacred to her AND to Robyn...

Robyn...

This place was the only place he felt close to his father. It was the only place where he felt a connection to Caleb.

The fact that it was taken from him, for most probably selfish reasons, only made her angrier.

She wasn't one to curse people...

She gazed up at the tilted tombstone with her husband's name on it...

She wasn't one to curse people but this was the last straw.

Philip would pay for this. Whether he could or not. He will.

[lxvvie]

You had offered to watch Caleb while Phillip was gone.

His sitter wouldn't be able to watch him this time. Something had come up. Caleb wasn't too shocked at that. Pa probably turned her down. Caleb knew he would. He was surprised, however, when you volunteered in her stead. It was no big deal you said. After all, Caleb was an easygoing boy, it was the least you could do to repay their kindness, and you two got on famously. What's the worst that could happen?

Turns out, most of what you said and thought was true. He was an easygoing kid. Coordinating schedules to get him from school or after-school activities was a pain in the ass, however. Phillip was keen on keeping him focused and active and Caleb was involved in all sorts of clubs and sports at school.

The kid was smart and focused as hell. Intense, too. Just like his dad.

Of course, Caleb would beg to differ.

You two had settled into an amiable conversation over dinner. It was his favorite: pizza. Somehow the conversation had shifted over to names. Middle names to be precise. For some reason.

"...I hate mine," Caleb bluntly stated.

"...Oh? Why? What's wrong with it?" you asked mid-chew. Caleb pondered for a second, the same way his dad does, and said, "It doesn't sound right, y'know?"

"Er... okay..." Your curiosity got the better of you again. You'd have to remedy that soon. Or at some point in your life. "Well... what is your middle name?" At that, Caleb looked at you, really looked at you, squinted his eyes and everything, sizing you up as if he was gonna reveal the world's most well-kept secret.

A beat. Then, "Phillip."

...Oh. Oh. Caleb Phillip. Caleb Phillip Graves. Yeah, that... that kinda doesn't sound right. Phillip Caleb flows better in your opinion. Or probably not.

Caleb kept looking at you, almost as if he were studying you—just like his dad so maybe the middle name was intentional—and anticipating your reaction. Or maybe he caught wind of what you were thinking on your face. Yeah, that's it. He didn't say anything else for a minute before taking a bite of his pizza.

Another beat. Then, "I think he did it 'cause he hates his middle name, too." If you were a cat, you'd have already died a thousand times.

"...What's his middle name?" You asked without hesitation. Caleb set his slice down on his plate, looked around conspiratorially, leaned in, and whispered, "Promise you won't tell Pa?" "Scout's honor, kid." He looked around again before whispering again:

"Josiah."

Josiah. Phillip Josiah Graves. Holy shit.

And you two had never laughed so loud or so hard before in your lives. The curious look on Phillip's face as you two exchanged knowing smiles when he came to get Caleb was worth it, too.

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

Lost bet. Prologue

Platonic! Yandere! Mythological Creatures AU! BSD Characters x Child! GN! Reader x Platonic! Yandere! Mythological Creatures AU! Genshin Impact Characters

Description: Your village was located near really weird place, "Cemetery of Shrines", huge chunk of forest territory, littered with few dozen of old abandoned shrines.

A welcoming place for a test of courage. And paying a debt.

You lost a bet and have to spend seven nights in an abandoned shrine. You must be alone, but you are allowed to go prepared. You also can choose the shrine you must stay in.

It's just an old building. There is no way something is hiding here.

Warning and tags: OOC. AU. Platonic Yanderes. One Shot series. Forced adoption. Chosen creatures are loosely based on real myths, their behavior can be different from the one depicted in myth.

A/N: Inspired by games "Wick" and "Five nights at Candy's 2". Names of Reader's friends are taken from "Wick" Characters.

All coincidences with real people are accidental, and do not serve the purpose of offending anyone.

This series might be more or less always running on this blog. The one-shots will be put into "seasons". Each season will include 5 fics (5 shrines/youkais/creatures).

Same creatures can appear in different seasons, but characters will be different.

I will prefer choosing characters for myself, but, if you have a proposal or an interesting idea for a youkai, you can send it, and I will consider adding it to a next season.

In a future, I might use the same characters in different seasons as different youkais or beasts. We will see.

__________

"[Y/N], are you sure, that you will be okay?" your Grandma sounded concern. Of course, her grandchild and their friends were working on a hard and important school project. It was so hard, that they have to stay overnight for a whole week in Caleb's, one of their friend, house. You put a blanket in your backpack, trying not to look at her. You mumbled.

"I will be okay, Granny. I promise."

Old lady wasn't convinced, but dropped the subject.

"I will prepare a lunchbox for you. It is the least I can do, so Caleb's mom won't worry about feeding you."

She left your room without another word.

You felt bad for lying to her. She raised you, while your father was busy working in the city. She doesn't deserve to be lied to.

But, you can't tell her the truth. You can't tell her, that for a week you will stay at some abandoned shrine, because you lost a stupid bet. And, if you don't follow the conditions, the bullying with became even more unbearable.

You finish packing your little backpack (blanket, favorite plush toy and flashlight) and went to kitchen. You will take something to eat. And then, you will wait for a few more hours before going to Caleb's house.

And then to "Cemetery of Shrines".

You always wondered why there were so many shrines around the village. Teachers in school didn't know the answer, and your grandma can only tell you fairytales about youkais and mythological creatures.

----------

Caleb's house was chosen for a reason.

First, the house was the closest to the Cemetery of Shrines.

Second, his parents, currently weren't home, and his older brother can't be bothered to count all kids in the house or look after them.

And he wasn't bothered, that a bunch of kids decided to go for a walk.

Caleb and his friends were flocking around you, while you were slowly going to the border of the forest. Of the "Cemetery of Shrines" border.

When you reach your destination, Caleb took a stack of small papers. Bad drawn maps were scribbled on them.

"So, what shire you chose, [Y/N]?" Caleb gave you an ugly grin.

You ignored him and his friends snickering and point at...

________

Season I (coming soon)

________

Shrine with a fox statue (Platonic! Yandere! Kitsune! Chuuya Nakahara x GN! Child! Reader)

Shrine with wooden birds on top of torii (Platonic! Yandere! Tengu! Dazai Osamu x GN! Child! Reader)

One of the four shrines with stone tablet with constellation on it. The Eastern one. (Platonic! Yandere! Seiryū! Akutagawa Ryunosuke x GN! Child! Reader)

Shrine with almost faded rooster's painting on one of the walls (Platonic! Yandere! Basan! Ranpo Edogawa x GN! Child! Reader)

Shrine, where you can often spot a lot of raccoons (Platonic! Yandere! Tanuki! Edgar Allan Poe x GN! Child! Reader)

__________

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

!!THIS IS NOT CALEB!!

This is my version of the FTF Grimwalker that got possessed by Belos and then was resurected on GrimIsles!

His name is Cheese! ...Bear with me here-

His grimwalker siblings let him to choose his own name, because they didn't want to force something so important onto him. Especially when this "newcomer" was lucky enough to not be named by Belos. So the freedom of choice felt pretty important to consider for his ability to built his own identity and carve his own destiny.

But.. Cheese was litteraly "born yesterday" and he didnt understand the language yet. At all. So, of course, when he started to learn some words, he chose to identify himself with something he really really likes. And.. this thing he related to happened to be a block of yellow dairy product with holes in it and a funny taste. He is too much of a cheese lover.

Later on he often "changed his name" from Cheese to Onion to Gerald to Boot to Nike... Uhhh..., it was difficult to say the least. But the name Cheese stuck with others, so now it is how he is called. Although many end up pronouncing it as "Chez", which is valid too.

As you can see on my art, Cheese doesn't have his legs rotting like the body in the s3 ep2. Thats because it was part of his "mortal wound". In otherwords, Chez wouldn't be able to live with parts damaged like that. Usually all that left after the person's "mortal wound" after the resurection in the temple is a small light scar. But, even if Cheese got his body fully in tact now, the bottom part of his body nonetheless seems to be paralised. Thats why he requires a wheelchair to move around the Isles. (I wont deny the possibility of him getting a jetpack or something like that so he could move thought the air on his "loyal carriage". Imagine that vine video but with Cheese. He would be very enthusiastic about creating and building shit like that.) Chez also happens to be mute due to his damaged throat and vocal chords also from Belos'es possession. Thats why he has that little oracle stone on his hair-clip that helps him speak his thoughts out loud! He wasn't always able to use it, so he was also taught how to use sign language. His siblings were glad to learn it along with Cheese so they could finally chat.

I was initially imagining Cheese to be enthusiastic about sports. Especially since the grimwalker body in FTF looked quite buff weirdly enough XD. But he slowly grows to be much more than "CHEESE IS SPEED". Perharps our discovery of him as a character reflects his own journey of getting to know himself. Chez came to be as a blank slate. I guess he is technocally the happiest grimwalker in this AU, since he never experience any kind of abuse and has a loving family that treats him with respect even if he doesn't understand everything yet.

It was my first time drawing a wheelchair I think. So I really heavily referenced just to get its structure right. Maybe when I draw Chez again I will decorate it to his liking. He would probably enjoy some stickers on it. Especially of space and ships. Or Cheese could have a Starwars (or however that franchise is called in TOH universe) merch on it! He likes spaces, because it is full of infinite possibilities.

Thank you, @crypticpara and @talisman975 for inspiration!

[mybrothercainmybrotherabel]

TDAAC Timepool AU

not mbc,mba related

@moonmeg

“Race ye to school!” Micah challenged, taking off before Robyn or Vivian could have a chance to reply.

Robyn took off after him with no hesitation.

“Hey!” Vivian protested, hurrying to catch up. “Do you know how hard it is to run in a long skirt?”

The boys paid her no mind, until Micah's foot fell out from underneath him and he fell flat on his face.

“Jings and crivvens!” Micah swore. Robyn went to help his boyfriend up, while Vivian came up behind stifling a laugh.

“What did you trip over?” Robyn asked, looking at the apparently smooth sand.

“I dinna ken.” Micah said, standing up and brushing sand from his front. “It felt like there was a hole in the sand.”

Vivian started inspecting the sand, she found the hole and put her hand in. “Check this out! I think it's a time pool.”

“A timepool?” Robyn repeated, kneeling down by his friend. “I thought those were just myths.”

“I wonder when this one goes…” Micah said, giving the sand an experimental poke. “Should we check it out?”

“Only one way to find out.” Said Robyn.

“Have you gone mad?” Vivian demanded, “Who knows when you'll end up! Not to mention if the tide comes in you'll be trapped…not to mention the bloody-fly effect…”

“Dinna fash, Viv, it's a new moon tonight, the tide won't get this high for a week at least, an’ as long as we don't go changin’ anythin’ we won't have anythin' to worry about.”

Vivian shook her head. “I'm not risking it.”

“Then can you keep a lookout while we go?” Robyn asked, Vivian looked skeptical. “We'll be quick. Come on! You're an oracle witch, you get to see into the future all the time. This might be my only chance.”

Vivian pursed her lips. “Fine, you've got one hour. If you're not back by then, I'm telling your mom.”

“Deal.” Robyn held out his hand to shake. Then he and Micah jumped into the timepool.

They emerged on a sunny beach not notably different from the one they left other than the fact Vivian wasn't there.

“When do you think we ended up?” Robyn asked.

“Dinna ken, watch, with our luck we only ended up twenty minutes in the future and are late to school for nothin'.”

Robyn laughed, “Let's check out the town. Maybe we'll find something with the date.”

They went into town and found it not too terribly different from the town they knew. A few shops and stalls had different names and the slayground equipment looked newer, but for the most part everything looked the same.

“We can't have gone too far.” Micah said. “Yer grandparents shop is still there.”

A big sign that said Clawthorne's Carvings hung just as it always had, with the shop windows full of palismen. They got closer until they saw a much younger version of Robyn's grandmother carrying a box out of the door.

“Thank you again for all your help, Caleb.” She said to someone behind her.

“It's the least I can do after everything you've done to help my brother and me.” A man replied, he came into view seconds later. Robyn stood frozen in place as he saw his father for the first time. He recognized him immediately from his mother's descriptions, not to mention their own similarities. He was taller than Robyn, with blonde hair instead of brunette and round ears, but other than that they looked very similar.

“Will Philip be joining us today?” Grandma Sylvia went on to ask.

“I'm afraid not. He is preoccupied with his studies at the moment.”

“Ever the scholars, you two boys. Sometimes I wonder what it is you are looking for.” Grandma said.

Caleb chuckled a bit uncomfortably, “Well, the Boiling Isles are so different from our home. There is so much to learn…”

“Dad…” Robyn took a step forward, but Micah grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“What are ye doin’?!” Micah demanded.

“This is my one chance to meet my father…” Robyn said. “To talk to him, I could…I could warn him!”

“Roby, slow down…”

“He just mentioned a brother! You heard him right? Mom never mentioned I had an uncle, but she said that Dad was betrayed by someone close to him…”

“Roby…”

“I could save him! I could have my father in my life! I could actually get to know him! I could even have siblings!”

“Robyn!” Micah grabbed his boyfriend with both hands. “I get ye're excited but have ye ever stopped to think that maybe the way things are now they are…” He grappled for the right word.

“...for the best?” Robyn finished sharply.

“No! Obviously not best! I just meant…maybe things happened the way they were supposed to happen.”

Robyn pulled away, “Easy to say for someone who has a perfect, intact family.”

“My family has its flaws.” Micah said.

“Flaws?” Robyn scoffed. “Do you have even an ounce of an idea how good you have it? Some people would give anything to have something like you do! I don't expect you to understand my situation but you are in no position to tell me ‘things are best or meant to be the way they are now’. I have the chance to get a future with my father in it! You out of all people know how important of a matter that is to me!”

“Robyn…”

“I expected a bit more compassion from my boyfriend!”

“Titan's sake, would ye please listen to me!” Micah begged.

“You've said quite enough.”

“Ye won't even let me finish a damn sentence!”

“Look, if you don't wanna help me with this, go and watch the pools with Viv. I can very well handle this without you.”

“Cryin' out loud, I AM NOT AGAINST YE TRYIN' TO ACHIEVE YER DREAM FAMILY LIFE!” When he realized people on the street were turning to stare, he grabbed Robyn's arm and pulled him into an alcove between two shops. “I just want to remind ye that changin' even the smallest thing in the past can lead to chaos in the future.”

“Right.” Robyn said dryly, “I forgot the part where saving my father from being murdered leads to a catastrophe.”

“I'm not sayin' it will be the end of the world. I'm sayin' we don't know at what cost saving yer father comes. He died to protect ye and yer mother. What if by savin' him, we lose yer mother and... you.”

“I think you're exaggerating. We don't have infinite of time to stand here and fight, so last chance: are you with me or not?”

Micah opened his mouth, then closed it, lost for words.

“Fine.” Robyn said. “I see how it is.”

“Roby…”

“Go back and wait with Vivian. I don't need you here.”

“Roby!”

Before Micah could stop him, Robyn stormed away. His father was helping his grandmother stack boxes onto a cart.

“Careful, there, Blondie.” A playful voice said, “those decorations are for the festival tonight. If they get wrinkled no one in town will ever fall in love again.”

“Cathy, don't tease.” Grandma said, “Just because you don't believe in the Lunaris blossoms doesn't mean everyone is jaded.”

Robyn's mother rolled her eyes. She looked so different than Robyn had ever seen her. Her hair was short and her face much more youthful. She jumped up onto the cart.

“Um…excuse me…” Robyn said.

“Sorry, dear, the shop is closed for the holiday.” Grandma said, hardly casting a glance in his direction, “We'll be open tomorrow.”

Caleb was already climbing into the cart beside Catherine. Grandma Sylvia climbed in front and drove away.

Micah came up behind Robyn and took his hand. “Ye tried. Let's get back.”

“No.” Robyn said determinedly. “If I can't warn him…maybe I can stop his brother…”

Part 1/3

[deramin2]

Essek constantly gushing about his partner but pointedly not giving his name hits me so hard in the feels.

Two formative childhood experiences for me:

ONE

I was severely, mercilessly bullied as a child at every school I went to even if they're was no overlap of kids, and authority figures either ignored me or directly told me it was my fault. I was socially toxic. Any other kid who publicly associated with me was also targeted for harassment. I was best friends with a girl around the corner but because I was a couple years younger (in itself an invitation for bullying) and a parish, we could never let anyone know we were friends.

I've been told I should be upset at her for this, but it wasn't her fault. It was the other children who made it a fact that she would be harmed by publicly being my friend. She didn't make those rules, we were both just honest that it existed and there was nothing we could do to change that. The best we could do to survive was at least protect her. And that benefited me by actually having a friend.

So if we talked about each other it was"my friend." No names. No acknowledging we knew each other in public. No introductions to other friends. Keeping that divide up was necessary to survival. I had a couple friends on the same freak level as we and we were in fact targeted with additional harassment to get to the other person. It was a legitimate threat to live with. At some point I just stopped thinking it was ever necessary to reveal who my friends or family are unless it's both explicitly relevant and necessary.

TWO

I learned to use the internet in the late 1990s when anonymity was considered a best practice. Don't give out your age, sex, location, or other identifying information. You don't know who is on the other side of that screen or what they will do to you if they know. Sperate your online and offline worlds to protect yourself.

This helped reinforce experience one because clearly adults also acted like those kids and this just normal human behavior no one will ever put a stop to that you need to be on guard for at all times. Build in air gaps so if one of you is compromised it's harder for the perpetrator to get to other people you care about. Defending them through anonymity is a way of showing you love them.

Also since some family are searchable through have state government jobs that right-wing nut jobs chips target them for, I wanted to make sure they couldn't be connected to me as a queer trans disabled person active online. In case something I said led to them being targeted.

(This is correct advice, even though it flies in the face of modern online conventions. There are tons of malicious people on three internet who will target you and anyone you love if they decide to hurt you.)

RESULT

By default, I refer to people by their relationship to me, not their name. My friend, my partner, my parent, my family, someone I know, etc. Often I avoid gendering them to make it even harder to identify them. I have to consciously consider if the person I'm talking to has any reason to know my associate's name. Blacklist everyone, then whitelist exceptions.

I do this even if both people know each other because the specific association feels dangerous. Better to be viewed as acquaintances than a meaningful relationship that changes how either of us could be viewed. It's not even really a judgement on thinking the person is untrustworthy, I just don't want to spend any extra energy thinking about it. It doesn't even feel relevant because my relationship to this person fellas like it conveys more information that actually matters.

ESSEK

Essek knows both he and Caleb are being targeted by powerful people who have shown they will target loved ones to get to them. Additionally, tensions between the Empire and Dynasty are still high and it could very easily compromise how their own sides view them if it's known that they're romantically entangled with someone from the other side. It could also blow each other's cover and make their meeting places more vulnerable to attack. Especially if their enemies know they could hit both of them at once.

It's genuinely dangerous for their connection to be known, so they don't name names. It's not even a matter of whether Bell's Hells would intentionally misuse that information, but what they also could just let slip to the wrong person. It's not really worth the risk when "my partner" is all the information they actually need to understand him.

My guess is that Essek said "Bren" is hiss partner because they already know a Bren sent them to Astrid. And since Caleb no longer uses the name Bren it would be much harder to connect them. It would have caused more questions, more prying, and more risk to give no name for his partner when directly pressed. So he gives a truthful but less dangerous answer. The anonymity is an act of love.

[robbyrobinson]

Two Roommates At the Edge of the Universe (Potential Book of Bill Spoilers)

Belos: Of all the heathenistic, pagan gods to be saddled with for eternity, it has to be... you.

Bill Cipher: (quadruples) Well, well, well, well... aren't you a sight for sore "eye." My old business partner, Philip Wittebane... or is it Belos? It's been ages... how has your whole "witch hunting" gone?

Belos: I have nothing to say to you, demon.

Bill Cipher: Oh, well look at you. You look like some slop that escaped from the pigpen! Looks like that kid you made a deal with did a number on you. Serves you right for calling off our deal.

Belos: Our plans did not align. After all, I would never help you raze the Earth. You are the Devil himself.

Bill Cipher: (chuckles) Thanks, but I can't accept that compliment since I was actually kicked out of H - E double hockey sticks. Do not tell me that you are still playing that "evil for a good cause" bullshit.

Belos: I should not conform to the temptations of sin by talking to you, Cipher. My quest was nothing but righteous. Witches defile everything they come across. But my plan failed. All I could remember before my consciousness faded was seeing a huge, celestial frilled lizard... something more ancient than the Boiling Isles... and it told me I could live once more.

Bill Cipher: Blah, blah, blah. The difference between you and me is that I can admit that everything I had done throughout the trillion years of my life were nothing more than for funsies. I wiped out planets; I ate gods for breakfast. I drove millions to madness and watched their brains melt and seep through their ears and staining the ground. I have done more than you can ever hope to! I've slaughtered hundreds because my credit card was declined. I am the god of madness and chaos. All of this I have done before you crawled out of your mommy's hoo-ha! I have lived one-billion lifetimes more than you can attest to you one lifespan, 3 dimensional, Sloppy Joe meat puppet!

Belos: Oh? Well, to be fair, I never destroyed my home.

Bill Cipher: (stops ranting) I don't know what you're talking about.

Belos: You wanted to impress your race but they were wiped out in one tragic event wasn't it?

Bill Cipher: (grasps the side of his head) No, no. I remember that day well. A monster destroyed my world! I am a victim... how dare you bring up my past?

Belos: So now you're mad. No wonder you are still here. You can't take responsibility for anything.

Bill Cipher: (he turns red and gets increasingly angry, but he calms down) Well, tell me... how is that brother of yours? I seem to recall his name...

Belos: Don't you dare...

Bill Cipher: Caleb? Oh, yes, I remember it now. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Your brother met a nice little witch lady, but you entered the Demon Realm thinking that he was bewitched... but you saw that he not only married her, but she was pregnant.

Belos: (grapples with his temples) Silence... no more.

Bill Cipher: (conjures up a knife) Oh, does my eye deceive me? Here's the knife that you killed your brother with.

Belos: Shut up!

Bill Cipher: HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You should have seen the look on his face! He was so devastated that his own brother stabbed him when he was protecting his wife!

Belos: She - He! I was trying to save his soul! He chose his own fate. He stabbed me in the back. After all those years being witch hunters, he allowed himself to be tempted by the wiles of that harlot!

Bill Cipher: (cheeky) Ah, does widdle Belos miss his brutha? Does he want some milky? Or someone to tell him bed stowies? HA HAHAHA HA HA HA!! Face it, old man, you are just like me. All you ever cared about was being the hero who would save mankind from the forces of evil.

Belos: Grrr.... I am not evil.

Bill Cipher: Well... The Axolotl sent you here to be "rehabilitated." If you're lucky, you can reincarnate into some worm that eats shit for a living.

[lilisettean]

Can you write more zayne x reader and implied!caleb? I’m a Zayne’s girlie and love to see more of the love triangle and dynamics between them three 🫣

(and let’s pretend Caleb’s still alive)

Hey! Sorry if this is delayed, was really busy recently so haven't updated much. And yes, I will write more of that love triangle! Jealousy is my jam and I LOVE it (in fiction ofc). I'm just waiting for Caleb to come back to have a bit more insight into his character and see if the game explores on their dynamic at some point!

For now though, please have this drabble and I hope you will like it :)

Custom Made | Zayne/Reader + Caleb/Reader

About: Zayne never minded paying for you. If anything, he liked buying you gifts; and if given the chance, he would gladly spoil you. However, he hadn't realized that he wasn't the only one.

Pairings: Zayne/Reader, Caleb/Reader

Notes: A somewhat part 2 to Unspoken Rivalry! Can be read separately though. Still follows the events of the Valentine's event but not by much.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Implied love triangle.

Zayne wandered around your apartment as he waited for you to get ready for the banquet. This was hardly the first time he had ever been to your place, but he hadn’t had the time to look around then. Usually you were ready by the time he even considered looking around. So when you claimed you needed more time to look presentable and told him to make himself at home while he waited, Zayne nodded and told you to ask if you were to need help or a second opinion.

Not that you needed it anyway. Zayne was sure whatever you did, you would look stunning.

But Zayne understood why you needed time. If the situation was reversed and you asked him to accompany you to some event wherein he would meet your colleagues, he would’ve taken time to pick a suitable and flattering outfit as well. Hence why he was now walking around your apartment, taking in your tastes and interests as he waited patiently.

Your place was very much… you, he found. A large plushie here, a few cushions and a throw blanket there. Combined with the fresh flowers and natural lighting you preferred, this place felt homely; a stark contrast to his modern and sleek, yet somehow impersonal, residence. 

Stepping away from the balcony, Zayne was about to approach the mirror perched on the cabinet to examine his appearance when something caught his eye. 

It was a lone empty photo frame settled next to the mirror, and under it, was an assortment of pictures taken. 

Unable to stifle his curiosity, Zayne gathered up the scattered photos and shuffled through them. There was one with Grandma Josephine, a few with whom he recognized as your colleagues, one with a sleeping blond hair man with squiggles drawn all over his face, and one with a famous painter whose name he cannot recall at that moment. 

What made him pause the longest while examining however, was one with your mutual childhood friend, Caleb. You two stood side by side in front of a house, his arm around your shoulder while you tucked your hair behind your ear, caring not to have it tangled with your earring, and smiled for whoever– Josephine perhaps– was behind the camera.

Normally Zayne would’ve continued on, looking through the other photos as if he had not seen it and pointedly ignoring the fleeting what ifs that spawned in his mind. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop staring at the look Caleb had on his face, his mind unable to stop thinking at what the soft smile on his face meant while he was looking at you, instead of facing the camera.

Caleb gazed at you as though you were the only person that mattered, as though you were the only reason for his entire existence. 

Zayne knew that look. He had seen it on countless people’s faces. On his patients, on his colleagues… and even on himself, on a picture with you. The same picture he had secretly used as your chat background.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the picture as though he could burn it with his gaze alone, until you snuck up to him, peering at what he had on his hands.

“What are you looking at?” Your voice snapped him out of his suffocating thoughts, his form rigid as your hand came contact with his. 

“You okay?” You asked, gasping when you felt his icy fingers against yours as you turned the picture towards you. The edges of it were coated with tiny ice crystals, its frost melting away as you wiped it. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Zayne replied after shaking his head, purging his mind of the coiling jealousy that took root. The past did not matter; you were here with him now, instead of with Caleb.

“Are you ready to go?” Zayne asked after flipping over the picture and slipping it under the pile. He awkwardly sidestepped your question, hoping that you would pick up on his reluctance and drop the matter entirely. He quietly sighed in relief when the dubious look on your face changed, replaced with a hesitant smile.

“Yes. What do you think? Am I overdressed or under dressed?” 

Zayne watched as you stepped back to allow him a better look at your outfit. Despite your protests, he had paid for the dress and heels in full, citing that it was only right for him to provide as he was the one who added you to the guest list. 

“You needn’t worry about that. You look immaculate.” Zayne said after giving you a once over, pleased that the dress he had picked out for you was to your tastes and suited you perfectly. He would’ve chosen accessories that would’ve gone well with the dress as well, if it weren’t for your insistence that you had the perfect match for it already. 

Well, Zayne took the liberty to pick out an accessory for you anyway as a gift. But that was not the focus now. 

Speaking of which… “Those earrings suit you well.” He stated as he admired the visage before him. The pair of earrings you chose were elegant in its design, subtly accentuating your features whilst drawing people in. It was as though they were tailor made for you and you only.

Despite having never seen you wear them before, a sense of déjà vu settled in. He had seen them somewhere, but he couldn’t name where…

“Really? Thanks.” You replied with a laugh, unaware of his sudden fixation upon your earrings. “They were a gift.”

“From who?”

“From Caleb! It was a gift for passing the licensure exams!”

A gift? Caleb?

Something immediately clicked within him as soon as repeated those words to himself. The picture of you and Caleb quickly appeared in the forefront of his mind, linking the two seemingly unrelated pieces of info together.

Of course. The earrings you were wearing now were the same ones you wore in the picture. 

While you told Zayne how you unsuccessfully tried to figure out where Caleb got the gift from so you could pay him back, Zayne examined the earrings you wore with great scrutiny, wondering where Caleb had gone to purchase these while listening to your failed attempts at espionage. 

The earrings you wore had a unique charm to them, and lacked the sterility and sameness that came with other pieces seen in boutiques. Zayne quickly drew to the conclusion that these were not only custom ordered, but handmade as well, with how well made they were.

There were only a select few stores that did handmade jewelry in Linkon. And to this quality… There was only one place that would be able to craft such a timeless art piece.

Zayne had to admit– albeit reluctantly– if these earrings were ones that Caleb had chosen without any prompting, or even designed himself, he had quite the taste, and an excellent eye for what would suit you the most. 

“...Zayne?”

Zayne blinked, realizing that he had unconsciously leaned forward to inspect your earring in detail. Pulling his hand away after tucking your hair behind your ear once more, he straightened himself and replied. 

“I know where they are from.” He said, huffing in amusement when he saw your face lit up at his response. “No. It would be impolite of me to reveal that.” 

“But Zayne–”

Said man huffed in amusement as you tried to persuade him, citing that you wanted to repay Caleb somehow. But Zayne remained silent, only replying with a small smile. 

It would be a horrible idea to do so. Despite the earrings being a gift from someone his darker, more jealous side considered as a rival, it was not his place to speak of its origins. But that was not the main reason why he maintained his silence.

Zayne slipped a hand in his slacks’ pocket while you were busy getting ready to leave, thumbing over a slim velvet box that contained a ring commissioned from the same place Caleb went to for your earrings.

It would be quite troublesome if you were to figure out how much they had spent, and were willing to spend, for you, after all. 

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Purrgils and a nursery rhyme from his youth have shaped Ezra Bridger's life in ways that even he is not aware of . . .

The Research Survey Mission (22 BBY)

After an agonizing hour being held up by Republic Security, he finally made it to the hangar bay where his escort was waiting. Dodging precariously between the space fighters, grimly masked clone pilots, and their long-suffering mechanics, he weaved his way through the active hangar with a desperate determination.

The war against the Separatists continued to stretch on with no end in sight, he knew. It surprised him that his scientific study had been approved by the Senate, considering all the funds being tied up in the war's progress. His sponsor, Senator Amidala, had taken an interest in the study of purrgil hyperspace travel routes for humanitarian reasons and had lobbied the Supreme Chancellor for this study to be funded.

Wheezing with the strain from sprinting - something not done since his Academy days - he finally skidded to a stop in front of the vessel assigned to the survey mission: an old, but functional looking G9 Rigger class freighter.

"I'm - my apologies for the wait," he gasped out between heaving breaths. It wouldn't make a good first impression if he vomited in front of his team here -

And speaking of his team . . .

Clutching at the stitch in his side, he peered at the two individuals selected to be his escort. First, the pilot: a young human woman about his age, with raven black hair and a feisty expression on her sun-browned face - a beautiful face, he observed, that looked better suited for a leading role in a holo-drama rather than a drab military flight uniform.

The pilot looked impatiently at the chrono on her wrist. "You're late," she remarked, sounding grumpy.

Still taken aback by her beauty, he took a full five seconds to compose himself. "Yes - I'm sorry about that," he replied. "All the new security; I wasn't expecting - "

The second individual on his team gave a sardonic chuckle. "First time on Coruscant?" asked the second person.

He nodded, looking the other team member up and down with a rising skepticism. He was a young boy with short brown hair, some of which was kept in a thin braid that trailed past his shoulders. A strong, serious face with piercing blue eyes - similar to his own - gave the impression that little escaped the boy's attention.

More importantly, he wore the traditional brown and white robes of a Jedi Knight. They fit him well, despite the boy's youth.

Smiling slightly, he asked, "And you must be . . . Master Depa Billaba?"

Amusement glinted in the youth's blue eyes, breaking through the stoic expression. He barked out a laugh. "No, I'm afraid not. She had other pressing matters to attend to. I was sent in her place."

"Ah, I see. Are you another Jedi Knight, then?"

The boy pouted. "Someday. Soon, I hope."

He stuck out his hand in greeting. "I am Master Billaba's padawan. My name is Caleb Dume."

Dume's grip was firm and steady; the skin on his palm was rough, callused from years of hard work and battle. Far rougher than I would expect any young person his age to be.

Inwardly, he felt a small pang of sadness for the young Jedi; a war was a brutal experience to go through, even for the adults who were prepared for such an event. He couldn't imagine the toll it was taking on the young.

Even if they were Jedi.

"My name is Ephraim Bridger, Jedi Dume. A pleasure to work with you."

The Jedi nodded in acknowledgement. Ephraim turned to the pilot -

"Lieutenant Mira," she answered bluntly before he could ask. Ephraim noticed the emphasis on her rank. "And I'd like to actually start flying now, if either of you don't mind."

She turned and stalked onto the freighter's lowered ramp, disappearing into the ship.

Ephraim blinked and turned to Dume. The young Jedi just shrugged. "Can't keep her waiting," he said politely. Both of them soon followed the pilot into the waiting vessel.

"Guess not," Ephraim muttered. "Oh, this is sure to be fun."

"I hope so," said Dume earnestly. "Could use a break from this war. So, what are we hunting?"

"We're not hunting, Master Jedi. We're searching for something. A creature long rumored to be nothing more than a myth, save for scattered reports from spacers over the Republic's long history."

Dume glanced at him curiously. "What would that be?"

Ephraim turned to him, grinning widely. "Ever heard of star whales, Caleb?"

The Star Whale (13 BBY)

"Alright, alright," laughed Ephraim. "Time for bed, young one."

His son, Ezra, was encased in a bear hug, scrambling to free himself. "Ah, come on, Dad. Five more minutes, please?"

Ephraim considered the offer - until he glanced over his shoulder to find his wife, Mira, giving him one of her patented glares. Her eyes - a lovely shade of violet that he always found himself admiring - pierced through him like a blaster bolt.

Deflating a bit, he whispered, "Not going to happen, buddy. The boss says no."

The child twisted in his hug until he could look over Ephraim's shoulder. Mira blew him a kiss.

With his typical accuracy, Ezra mimed to catch it and pressed the kiss to his heart. It was a time-honored ritual every evening, before bedtime.

"Okay, then," said his son. "How about a story instead?"

Ephraim laid his son gently onto the floor, feeling the aches in his lower back. "I would love that. Head up to your bedroom and choose one. I'll meet you there in a minute."

Before he finished his sentence, Ezra raced up the stairs in a flash. Ephraim snorted and turned to look at his wife. She was throwing a hooded cloak over her shoulders, obscuring her figure.

"I'm heading out now, love," she said to him, voice muffled through the thick cloth wrapped around her head.

He went to her and gave a kiss on the bridge of her nose, the only exposed skin available due to her outfit. They had been doing this for a while now . . . but the worry never faded from his mind.

Since the Empire had come to power, he and Mira had taken over an old communications tower to spread messages throughout the galaxy with other groups of people who were fighting against the growing tyranny of the Emperor and his cronies. It was dangerous work.

But someone had to do it. Someone had to light a candle in the long, vast night that had fallen across galactic civilization.

"Be careful," he said quietly. Mira smirked at him, in her typical impish way.

"I always am," she replied. "Sing me home, when it's time."

"Of course," said Ephraim. He watched her slip out the front door, biting his lip. In his mind's eye, he could see her dodging through shadowed alleyways, dashing across empty streets, finding their hidden speeder . . .

Come back safe, darling, he thought.

"Dad!" came his son's voice, interrupting his mood. "Are you coming up or what?"

Ephraim chuckled, feeling grateful for the distraction. "I'm heading up now," he replied.

_ _ _ _ _

"Star whales?" asked Ephraim. "You're sure?"

Ezra nodded. "I found some of your notes - "

Ephraim groaned. "You were snooping around in my office again?"

The boy flushed with embarrassment. He sighed deeply. Mira had noted it before he did; their son had a predicament for getting himself into trouble. Nothing serious as of yet, thank the Force.

But in these dark times, it could spell greater danger down the road.

Especially given his . . . talents.

"For the last time, there is no candy hidden in my desk. You ate all of it."

"Right. Sorry, Dad." The apology would have seemed sincere if not for the smug grin plastered on the boy's face.

He reached over and ruffled his son's hair with fond exasperation. Ezra giggled and waved his hands away.

Ephraim sat back in his chair thinking of all the stories about star whales he knew of. Finally, he said, "Do you know I saw a star whale once?"

His son's eyes went round as a moon. "Really?"

Smiling, he said, "Oh, yes. It was a scientific study. I actually met your mother on that mission. And there was a Jedi, also."

"A Jedi?" Ezra's mouth went agape. "Who were they?"

"A young human boy, actually. Not much older than you. His name was Caleb Dume." A gentle pang of melancholy went through him at the old memory resurfacing; he had not thought of the young Jedi in the long years since that mission.

He wondered if Dume had survived the purge.

Somehow, deep in his heart, he was sure that the boy had made it. Palpatine had been vicious in his extermination of the Jedi Order, but there was no way that all of them had been killed. Rumors continued to pop up from all over the galaxy . . .

He shook his head. Ezra was watching him, waiting for the next part of the story.

"Oh, yes. We spent a week in deep space, tracking down a pod of purrgils," he continued. Ephraim felt the old sense of wonder and awe grip him as he remembered the towering, majestic creatures. The pod had passed by their tiny freighter, flowing around them like river water.

Closing his eyes, he could envision the golden splotches on their skin mixing with the vivid purple - and those eyes. Those giant, glowing eyes. Being looked upon by the star whales felt like an almost religious experience with the calm, magnificent intelligence behind those eyes appraising the explorers' small forms.

"The sounds they made . . . oh, it was like they were singing," he explained. "It shouldn't be possible in deep space, but the purrgils somehow manage to do it. And they did it so beautifully."

"It sounded like music?" asked Ezra in a hushed tone. He nodded.

"Like little songs," confirmed Ephraim. "I believe it's how they speak to one another."

"Did they jump to hyperspace?"

Ephraim nodded in confirmation. "Their tentacles in the back stretched far, far out. I could see lines glowing on them, brighter and brighter and then - they were gone just like that." He snapped his fingers on the last word to illustrate his point.

"Wizard," whispered his son.

"Totally wizard," he agreed. He stroked his beard. "But then something odd happened."

Ezra sat up in his bed, gripping the covers tightly. "What?" he demanded. "What happened?"

Ephraim stroked his beard, drawing out the pause for dramatic effect. Watching his child squirm in anticipation was always a fascinating experience, which he secretly enjoyed.

Finally, he broke the pause and leaned forward. "One of them stayed behind," he said.

His son's expression turned puzzled. "Really? Why?"

"Ah, well, I have only a theory on that," Ephraim confessed. "But I feel that it is true. You see, purrgil pods are a community. They take care of each other, watch out for one another."

"Like you and Mom," Ezra pointed out. Ephraim smiled.

"Precisely. They are also the only creatures with the capability to emit noise in the deep vacuum of space via their songs. Space is large and vast and dark, Ezra. My theory is that even purrgils can get lost sometimes. So, one stays behind to sing them home."

"Even purrgils can get lost," Ezra repeated, sounding sad.

"All beings, large and small," said Ephraim, "need help sometimes."

He watched his son ponder that for a few moments. Then, Ezra said quietly, "You say that to Mom sometimes."

Ephraim frowned. "What do I say?"

"She asks you to 'sing her home' sometimes. Or you ask her. And then one of you leaves during the night."

He felt an icy fist enclose over his heart. It seemed that he and Mira's covert activities hadn't gone unnoticed by their son.

"We do say that," he confessed. "It's just a saying."

Ezra's face turned to him, with those piercing blue eyes that were an inheritance. "Do you think someday, someone will do that for me? If I get lost?"

Ephraim felt the icy fist close tighter. "Your Mom and I will do that for you."

"But what if . . . " The boy's voice trailed off, refusing to give voice to the fear that had arisen in him. But Ephraim knew what Ezra was going to ask.

It was the same question that he and Mira struggled with every night since their child had been born.

What if you and Mom aren't here anymore?

He reached forward and enclosed Ezra's hand in his own. So small, so soft, so warm - and so fragile.

"You will meet others," he said firmly, "who will love you just as we have. I promise it, Ezra."

His son just gazed at him. "You promise?"

"I do. You are so easy to love, my son. You will find someone who loves you like it's second nature to them - and if you ever get lost, they will sing you home."

The Rhyme (4 BBY)

He sat in the cockpit of the Phantom, gazing through the canopy at the field of stars. Whenever things on the Ghost got too quiet, he liked to sequester himself in there and just enjoy the mechanical ambience generated by the shuttle's machinery.

They're out there somewhere, he thought. The purrgils.

His encounter with the legendary creatures, still so recent, had left him in a curious state. Ezra couldn't shake the sensation that this was not the last he would see of them.

Unbidden, an old memory rose to the surface of his thoughts. His father, Ephraim, telling him stories of the star whales.

One stays behind to sing them home.

Ezra smiled faintly, despite the gentle sadness he felt rippling beneath the recollection. Not too long ago, he didn't want to think about his parents. Thoughts of them were a source of pain that he did not want to revisit, especially when he was just a street-rat scavenging on the streets of Capital City for survival.

But now, with his new family. he could remember his parents freely. The memories were no longer a burden; the pain hadn't lessened, but the others helped him to bear their loss a little better.

He reached into his pocket and took out the holo-recording that Sabine had found for him on his birthday a year ago. Pressing the button, the recording flared to life, showing a static image of his family - before the Empire had come to take it all away.

All beings, large and small, need help sometimes.

Ezra gazed softly at the holo-image, feeling the old pangs of loneliness. Despite his time spent on the Ghost, some nights he still felt . . . lost. Like he didn't belong.

"Even purrgils get lost sometimes," he muttered.

"Is that so?" came a familiar voice from behind. Twitching in surprise, Ezra stole a peek at the source.

It was Sabine. To his surprise, she wasn't wearing her standard Mandalorian armor; rather, she wore simple sleeping wear consisting of a plain shirt, shorts, and slippers.

She arched a curious eyebrow at him and gave a little wave. "Hey, goober," she said.

"Hey, Sabine," he replied. "What brings you here?"

Sabine shrugged. "Just checking up on you. You weren't in your room. Zeb's snores don't seem too horrendous tonight, so I was wondering why you weren't sleeping."

"Actually," he admitted, "Zeb's snores help me sleep. Guess I'm so used to them now as background noise. If he's not here, I can't sleep so easily."

She laughed. Ezra felt his ears flush red at the sound.

Play it cool, he thought firmly. Be cool.

She shuffled up to him and pointed at the co-pilot seat. "Mind if I join you?"

He gestured at the empty chair. "Be my guest."

"Thanks." She sat down, still scrutinizing him with a curious look. "So, what's this about purrgils? You still thinking about those gas pods?"

Ezra snorted. "They eat the gas, they're not - well, technically - okay, yes, I'm still thinking about them."

Sabine giggled. "I'm just messing with you, Ezra." Her face turned serious. "What does this have to do with your family?"

He blinked, suddenly remembering the holo-recording playing in the space between them. In a flash he turned it off, feeling self-conscious.

"I don't know," he replied. "I was just thinking about them for some reason."

Ezra turned to look out the Phantom's canopy again. "My dad used to tell me about the purrgils all the time when I was younger."

"Really?" asked Sabine. "What did he say?"

"That purrgils apparently mate for life. There's more myth than fact about them, but that one is true. Despite their fearsome appearance, they're also really gentle. They won't attack unless directly provoked."

Sabine sat back in her chair, absorbing this. "Wow. Surprising."

"How so?"

"Purrgils don't make any kind of evolutionary sense, goober. Far as we can tell, nothing hunts purrgils. They are at the top of their food chain. And yet . . . " She waved a hand at the stars in front of them.

"They just exist. Just travel from star to star and occasionally take a pit stop to munch on some gas," she finished.

"And to annoy spacers like Hera," Ezra added.

Sabine snorted. "True. They continue to do that, maybe Hera will become a predator to them."

That elicited laughter from Ezra. Sabine grinned at him.

When his laughter died down, Sabine asked, "What else did your dad know about the purrgils?"

Ezra thought about it, then said, "The pod doesn't jump together. Not for long distances. He saw it happen, in person: one of them stays behind."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes. "To sing them home, when it's time."

There was a silence from Sabine. Then, he heard her murmur, "Even purrgils get lost sometimes."

"Yup. You get it."

Ezra opened his eyes. "My parents used to say that to each other sometimes. 'Sing me home when it's time'. One time, I asked my dad what would happen if I got lost and they weren't around anymore."

Sabine was quiet.

"He said other people would find me someday and love me like they did. That if I got lost, they would sing me home, just like the purrgils do," Ezra said. His eyes glazed over with tears.

"Some days I feel lost," he confessed. "I'm grateful for you and everyone else here, but it's not the same as it was with my family. I miss them so much sometimes."

Ezra let out a little bitter laugh. "Sometimes, when I was younger and still on my own, I wished that the purrgils would come and take me. That I could be anywhere but stuck on Lothal without my parents. It didn’t matter where we went - they could take me to another galaxy, for all I care."

All the horrible, seething emotions whirled and twisted within him. Ezra closed his eyes again and took deep breaths, trying to enact Kanan's Jedi calming techniques -

Sabine hugged him. Ezra let out a small breath that he didn't realize was being held.

"I'm here, Ezra," she said. "I'm here for you."

He melted into the warm embrace, just allowing himself to feel the strength and surety of his friend's presence fill the deep, dark cracks that his emotions had opened in him.

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice a little ragged.

After a long moment, she released. Looking into his eyes with an expression of utmost seriousness, she said, "Look, I'm not much of a singer but I'll do it for you."

Ezra stared at her. "What?"

"Better me than Zeb. Or Hera and definitely better than Kanan." She shuddered at the last name.

"What are you talking about, Sabine?"

She rolled her eyes. "The singing, goober! I'll sing you home if you get lost."

His mouth fell slightly open. "You . . . you will?"

"Yeah. Just don't expect opera level talent here. Give me something simple to sing."

Ezra felt his mouth widen into a grin. "I never really thought about it."

"Come on. You have to know some music, Ezra."

He thought hard for a few seconds. Then he remembered something from his past - an old nursery rhyme his parents used to sing, when he was much younger.

"You got something," said Sabine. "I saw it click in your head, judging by your expression."

He looked at his friend, his mood cautious. "Okay," he said, "repeat after me."

Ezra took a deep breath.

"Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run . . ."

The Girl Who Was Broken (1 BBY)

It had been a week since Ezra disappeared.

In the distance, despite the fading light of early dusk, Sabine could still see the smoke rising from the rubble of Capital City. It would take years to rebuild to its former glory. Years that the inhabitants of Lothal would now have, thanks to her friend's courageous sacrifice.

Yes, she felt proud. That's what she kept telling herself and the others, too.

But deep down, a wound remained. An Ezra shaped hole that refused to be filled from all the celebration and praise and joy from everyone around her.

I let him go. He's gone.

She shook her head vigorously at this last thought. "He's not gone," she said aloud.

But her words were snatched away by the rising evening breeze. She sighed and leaned against the balcony railing, taking in her surroundings.

Ezra's comm-tower. His home before he came onto the Ghost.

She knew Zeb and Hera would soon be making plans to leave. The Rebellion needed their talents desperately elsewhere. The war with the Empire had tipped in their favor with Thrawn's defeat but it was far, far from over.

She understood why they had to leave - and why she was deciding to stay. Ezra had asked her to see this through, not them. Sabine acknowledged the logic behind the decision to split up the remaining Ghost crew.

That didn't stop it from hurting, however. She and Ezra had spent plenty of nights conversing about this very subject; what they would do, should the worst come to pass.

But every plan they had come up with included them sticking together. Never had it occurred to them to plan about what would happen if they were separated.

And now he was gone.

"He's not gone," she said through clenched teeth. "He's not!"

Her shout became another casualty of the wind, snatched away in a heartbeat.

He couldn't be. She would know if he was . . . no, she was sure of it. Ezra was still alive out there, somewhere.

The trail had gone cold just outside the Unknown Regions. Hera had taken the Ghost, with her and Zeb, picking up the trail of debris from Thrawn's fleet halfway across the galaxy.

They could go no further. Neither of them voiced the obvious fact aloud on the trip back to Lothal: that no one who went into the Unknown Regions returned to tell the tale.

Ezra's lost out there. He's a smart boy, she thought. He'll figure it out. There's got to be some Jedi navigation techniques he can use.

Until then, all she could do was wait . . . and watch over Lothal, as she promised.

A memory came to her, rushing through her mind like the evening's breeze.

One stays behind to sing them home.

It was a silly idea, she knew. A child's hope.

But she had promised.

Sabine turned her gaze upwards, looking up at the starry night sky of Lothal. Somewhere, in between those pinpricks of tiny, scattered light, was her best friend.

She imagined his face, letting the image of him fill her mind.

And then . . . Sabine began to sing, fighting against the rising wind on this Lothal evening:

"Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run. Pick a path and all is done. Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run. The night is falling, and the dark will come. Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf flee. Follow my voice and run home to me."

Her voice wavered at the last verse. When it was done, she hung her head for a moment, letting the tears fall freely.

Had the wind carried her voice away? Maybe, in her most foolish of hopes, it had carried her song to wherever Ezra was.

That he knew she was there. That someone was trying to bring him home.

Sabine slammed a fist on the railing. "That was so stupid," she whispered. "There's no way he heard that."

It was an idiotic idea that the singing would be heard by Ezra. She wasn't a purrgil.

But Sabine knew, deep down in her heart, that she would try anyway.

I will sing you home, Ezra Bridger. Every night, until you come back to me.

~ epilogue ~

The Lost Boy (11 ABY)

He sat on his haunches, exercising his Jedi patience. Before him, a field of plain, unblemished rocks; the gray skies of the strange world he had crash landed on so many years ago threatened a downpour soon. Ezra scratched idly at his beard, studying the rocks with interest.

Finally, he picked one. With a small smile, he picked up a pebble and chucked it at one of the oddly shaped rocks a few feet away on his right.

It bounced off the rock's exterior - and then the rock leapt into the air, revealing the small, crab-like creature that laid beneath it. Or, rather, was attached to it.

The Noti - as Ezra had come to know them as - used the rocks as defensive camouflage when the nomadic bandits came passing by. Since the planet they were on had so many of them, it became a habit of the bandits to just pass them by without much attention.

The little Noti scrambled in place for a few seconds and then froze at the sight of Ezra.

"Ezra Bridger," it said in a tiny little voice.

"Hello, friend," he replied pleasantly. "The village is looking for you. It's time to make camp."

The Noti, by Ezra's estimation, was still a child. The village elder had approached him earlier that morning, babbling like crazy. He still wasn't fluent with their language, but the gist of it was that they were looking for one of their younglings that had gone wandering off.

"Ezra Bridger," said the young Noti uncertainly.

He shook his head. "No, they're not angry with you. Just worried."

Thunder clapped nearby, the sound roiling over the barren wastes. The Noti immediately disappeared underneath it's rock shell again, afraid.

Ezra sighed, walked over to it, and knocked gently on the shell. "Hey, it's going to start pouring soon. We need to start heading back - "

A gust of wind rose with the incoming storm, and, for a frozen moment of time, he heard something.

A voice, singing. As if from far, far away.

A familiar voice. A familiar song . . .

Ezra went absolutely still, his heart hammering away inside his chest. He strained to listen over the rising gale -

There. There it is.

" . . . follow my voice and run home to me."

And then the voice was gone, carried away by the storm wind.

But he heard it. Oh, yes, he heard it.

Ezra smiled to himself.

"Not bad," he remarked. "You're a better singer than you think, Sabine."

He felt a tug on the hem of his robes. Looking down, he saw the Noti clutching a tiny fistful of the blood-red fabric.

"Ezra Bridger?" it asked.

Ezra knelt down and patted the little creature. "Don't be scared. Stay close to me, okay? We need to go now."

The Noti chirped back an answer in its own native language, sounding cheerful.

"Yeah," Ezra agreed. "It's time to go home."

[utilitycaster]

I’ve always been very interested in what you think about Caleb and Veth’s relationship. They’re not romantic, but not platonic, but not familial, but at the same time they are, but it’s different? I’m rambling. I find their relationship very interesting and I wanted to see what your take was on them :)

Also have a good day if you’re not having one already and if you are, have an even greater day

Hi anon, thanks! I assume you are asking specifically for my take but I follow a lot of people who have like, 20 times more thoughts on them than I do so I feel a little ill-equipped.

With that said: I personally did not seriously ship it romantically, but that was purely a matter of what I'm specifically into. I do think that a romantic reading of their relationship is an extremely valid one and there was, undeniably, a romantic element, which is why it's not clearly platonic. It reads as familial but in my opinion it is genuinely a relationship that only makes sense within a found family framework, ie, while early on Veth attempts to frame it as a mother and child, it really isn't that, either; that's just how she can best put what they are to each other into words because more apt ones don't exist. They care about each other and they care for each other and they did so at a time when each of them thought they had no future, even before they could admit that's what they were doing. I think that's the best way to describe it.

Something that has struck me - and that is one of the things I want to keep an eye out for when I finally one day have time to rewatch Campaign 2 - is how despite their relationship being one of convenience and coincidence (ended up in jail together, broke out, found it easier to travel together) and some degree of self-interest (Caleb benefited from having someone who could steal and who would remind him to take care of himself; Veth benefited from someone who wouldn't be chased out of shops and was interested in what a wizard could do for her; both did better with a partner for scams) it still lasted for months with no plans of separating. It didn't matter that Caleb wasn't telling Veth most of his past nor Veth telling him hers - or even her real name. They were lonely and it was better to travel with someone else, and they felt better for doing so, even if they told themselves (not even incorrectly) that it was purely a pragmatic matter.

My favorite early scenes between them are first, Caleb asking Veth if she'll leave with him should his reveal of his past to Beau go badly; and secondly and more importantly Veth saying she loves the rest of the party and that this isn't just pragmatism that's leading them to rescue the others. She's talking about the kidnapped party members; but again, because Veth and Caleb have never really defined what they have as anything but a partnership of convenience it feels like she is obliquely telling him how she feels as well.

I also of course love their scene in Felderwin - when Sam goes fully serious it's nearly always going to be a great time, and Veth's anger and drunken accusation and Caleb's intense guilt is a highlight, as is the way they are both able to move past it soon after due to the strength of their relationship.

I also think Liam and Sam did a fantastic job of laying the groundwork. Everyone did so beautifully for their Mighty Nein characters but I think Veth and Caleb's uneasy six months together feels incredibly vivid and real and are a standout among the pre-existing relationships. That might just be because Fjord and Jester had only been traveling together for a very brief amount of time, and because between Molly's death and Yasha not being around much we couldn't see as much of their friendship, but I still think about the list of grifts Caleb and Nott had together and how they were still running them mid-campaign. It was a level of work I think all players should aspire to when playing characters who knew each other in advance. There need to be inside jokes and a history and plans they've made together to breathe life into a pre-existing relationship that's more than a month long (give or take), otherwise it will fall flat and feel forced.

I think this focuses pretty heavily on their earlier relationship and that's because as time goes on they build stronger relationships with the rest of the party and develop a bit more distance. I think this is healthy! Again, a lot of their relationship - particularly on Caleb's side - came from a belief that this was the best they could hope for, and so it necessarily evolves, particularly once Veth and Yeza are reunited. I think Xhorhas/Angel of Irons arc Caleb isn't sure how to approach the relationship for a while until he finds a means of giving Veth her body back; Caleb is always someone who shows affection more through action than words. But I think that even as they build separate lives, Veth returning to a renewed version of the one she thought she lost and Caleb making something entirely different, they still mean a lot to each other and later in the campaign they are able to adjust and adapt their relationship with each other as well.

[bananadramaaa]

How would Eden handle the fact that Caleb was killed not by a random person/witch, but by Phillip? Would she know about this? Still, when your brother kills his brother, there has to be some kind of reaction

Ooooh, thanks for your question! I don't quite know how to answer that in simple words so I've decided to write a small episode about that undercut. I guess we can call it Answer in the form of Fanfiction :D

***

The whole place was filled with smoke. Sparks from the fire were flying in all directions. It was difficult to breathe. Through the fog in her head, Eden thought she heard a scream. The noise in her ears was unbearable. The aching pain in her head and the slight dizziness didn't help her concentrate. She seemed to have been pushed to the ground by this Witch. She had only one task: to keep the Witch down; don’t let her run away. Evelyn was the witch’s name, she believed. At least that's how Caleb introduced her to them. On shaky legs, Eden rose slowly, holding her head. Everything around her immediately spun. Her breathing gave her a sharp pain in her temples. The girl took her hand away from her head. There was blood. But none of that mattered. She had to find Philip and, finally, Caleb. The whole nightmare would be over… they would come home. They would finally come home…

Through the crackling of burning wood, she heard quiet sobs. The girl limped towards the sound, and through the smoke, she saw a hunched figure. It was Wit- Evelyn. Thoughts ran chaotically through her head. Where in the world is- “He killed him.” there was a low, rumbling sound as Eden found herself behind the witch. “W-What?..” the girl's voice was barely audible.

The witch turned to her sharply. The fire of hatred burned in her golden eyes, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, her lips quivering. Eden's heart skipped a beat. There was a painful tightness in her chest.

"He killed him!” shouted Evelyn tearfully. “You killed him!" She grabbed a handful of soil and threw it at Eden. The skirt around Evelyn’s knees and part of her shirt were soaked with blood. At that moment Eden was struck with the horrific realisation. The blood wasn’t witches. The breathless body of her older brother appeared before her eyes. Caleb's body. “I-I… I!..” Eden tried to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. Her gaze locked on her brother's pale face, on the dried blood in the corners of his blue lips.

Her legs buckled, and she fell to the ground, grabbing her throat. “Philip cannot-! Phi- I-!..” she tried to say something, but all she could see in front of her eyes was her brother’s corpse. Nausea came to her throat; her breath caught. Eden gasped. She felt like she was somewhere far away, like in a fever dream. Everything that was happening to her now defied her vision of the world. It defied the patterned descriptions of the people she had hoped to believe she knew. All of her experiences — the death of her parents, Caleb's disappearance, the demonic world — were all so foreign that Eden thought for a moment that she had lost her mind. Those months were a description of the ravings of a madman. She wasn't supposed to be here, nor were her brothers… not even this witch. Everything was so wrong that she wanted to shout it out for all to hear. Even for her dead parents, buried under layers of soil so far away in the Human Realm, to hear. But all she could hear was the desperate cry of the witch, Evelyn.

***

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Hush Little Baby, Don't Say a Word

Original story

Ao3 version

Mrs. Bartlett, a middle-aged widow who lived close by, was standing outside the door of the Wittebane household.

A smile of gratitude graced her face as she saw Madeline, her bundle of joy, being cradled with such care by her amazing sitter.

"I can't thank you enough for this," she said, expressing her sincerity to Caleb.

In an eerie town like Gravesfield, it was difficult to find a suitable sitter since certain people within the community just couldn't be trusted.

Luckily, Mrs. Bartlett found someone who could.

The older woman had heard nothing but good things about Caleb and once even saw the teen caring for a smaller boy with brown hair in public.

She knew without a doubt that her little girl was in good hands.

"No need to," Caleb reassured, returning her smile. "I'm just happy to be of assistance."

He knew that losing a loved one and being left with the responsibility of caring for a child wasn't easy, and was something he could empathize with since he had lost both of his parents.

"I'll be back in the evening," Mrs. Bartlett informs before leaning down to press the softest kiss against her baby's forehead.

This caused her to smile as she giggled at her mother's tender affection.

"Be good, my darling," she whispered sweetly in Madeline’s little ear before departing.

Once he waves the widow off, Caleb closes the front door and gazes down at the smiling infant in his care.

Sending her a smile back, he gives her button nose a small boop, and a storm of giggles immediately bubble out of her.

Caleb chuckled softly.

He had a feeling that he and Madeline were going to get along swimmingly.

...

As soon as thirty seconds pass, chaos ensues without delay.

The house was in a state of disarry as Madeline wailed loudly on the sitting room rug while Caleb took cover behind the flipped supper table.

She apparently didn't like any of the new toys that Caleb had carved for her and decided to go on a throwing spree, aiming them all at him.

After peering slightly from the side of the table, Caleb noticed that Madeline had run out of toys to throw.

He slowly got up and approached her in a gentle manner.

Scooping Madeline up, Caleb held her close to him.

He makes an effort to soothe her to the fullest extent of his ability, gently stroking her back.

"There, there, Madeline. It's okay," he whispered.

There's a possibility that she was hungry and needed some food.

...

An overly exhausted Caleb was seated in the sitting room rocking chair with a greenish orange vomit stain on the shoulder of his white shirt as he rocked back and forth rhythmically, still trying to simmer down Madeline's cries as he held her.

He had made sure to make a mental note not to feed Madeline mashed vegetables ever again.

The front door begins to open.

"Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!" A cheerful Philip steps through.

"I-," His speaking comes to an abrupt stop when he spots his brother with a baby.

"I'm an uncle now?" Philip asked.

Caleb replies with a slow head shake. "I'm in charge of her for the afternoon, Pip. Her name his Madeline," Caleb explained.

A sharp shrill is let out by Madeline, startling both brothers.

Caleb sighed as he continued. "I can't get her to stop crying, and her mother won't be back for her until the evening."

Handing Mrs. Bartlett an unhappy baby was not something he wanted to do.

"Hmm...," Philip hummed, trying to think up a solution.

Suddenly, an idea strikes him as he grins in excitement.

"Ooo, can I try something, Caleb?" Philip asked, making grabbing motions at Madeline. "I think I can make her stop crying!"

"I don't know, Philip…"

Caleb was hesitant to give Madeline up to his brother.

He feared he would accidentally drop her, which would only make things worse.

"Please, Caleb?" Philip innocently pleads, pressing his palms together.

"Please, please, please? Pretty please? I promise I'll be nice and gentle with her."

The elder exhales.

"Okay, fine," he said, giving into the pleads.

He stands up.

"But you'll have to sit down," Caleb told him.

After Philip takes a seat in the rocking chair, Madeline is gently placed in his possession.

Clutching her close, he straightens his legs and gently rocks back and forth.

"He might not be a baby, but Kitty likes it when I sing to him a lullaby at night after he has a nightmare. It always makes him feel a thousand times better!" Philip beamed, believing his song would have the same effect on Madeline.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out, he began to sing his berceuse, or rather, scream it out.

Although his voice was loud and growly, it possessed an adorable and unique charm to it.

Caleb's eyes widened as a feeling of panic gripped him, but then he quickly noticed something that genuinely surprised him.

Madeline had stopped crying as her eyes lit up at Philip, captivated by his voice.

Finishing his lullaby with a bang, Philip looked down and saw Madeline sound asleep in his arms.

He smiled at his brother.

"See?" Philip whispered, pointing at Madeline. "She stopped crying!"

Caleb nods. "I see, I see," he whispered back with a tired smile.

He began to breathe easily once more.

[slocumjoe]

First times*

*consensual *Curie and X6 not included, as I don't believe they've ever had sex

Cait; A girl in the combat zone. She occasionally fought for money, but most of her time there was up in the stands, sipping wine and staring haughtily. Her name was something to do with knives but she fought with a claw hammer. Cait's first time talking to her, she stared down her straight nose at her like a vulture. But she thought Cait was funny, with her broken nose and teeth and wild eyes. Cait thought she was pretty, like dolls you see on billboards. They ran off behind a building, Cait shoving her hands down the lady's pants so forcefully, she broke the zipper. She kept the broken zipper as a trophy of some kind. She still has it.

Danse; He never wanted to, not really. Cutler always had someone. Somehow, Cutler just knew whatever needed to be said to get a partner for the night, and he used that ability often. Danse didn't. People had propositioned him before, but quickly backed down the moment they realized what he was like. His brothers and sisters weren't so juvenile as to tease, but he could tell it was something to fix. Something expected of him. The next person to proposition him, he said yes to. Her name was Abigail, and she all but dragged him to her quarters. It didnt hurt, Danse just...didnt get it. She enjoyed herself, though, so he considers the issue dealt with. He liked when she snuggled up to him after, but examining that makes his stomach turn.

Deacon; A girl he went to school with. He was fifteen, she was seventeen, and he felt like a champ hooking up with an older woman. He still cringes when he remembers that. Her name was Sadie. She was kind of the town honeypot, with thick, fluffy black hair and pale grey eyes and a smile that could stop a Deathclaw in its tracks. Sadie laughed at a joke he made at a party, and he took that as an opening. One thing led to another, and another led to a broom closet.

Gage; He did a lot of bad shit as a kid for money. Shit he looks back on and it makes him feel sick. The first time he had sex, real sex, as an adult with another adult, the guy was a freak. Twister, he called himself, and he was a big fan of body modification. His tongue split down the middle, pronged. His ears were bigger than his chemed-out eyes. Twister wasn't a handsome fellow, but a young Porter thought he seemed fun. To his credit, Twister wasn't a bad guy, not in bed. He asked if Gage had done it before, what he liked, what he didn't. Made sure to make him comfy. Gage hated it. He didn't want to be comfy. He wanted fun.

Hancock; Oh, Caleb. Sweet, handsome Caleb, who had the eyes of a doe and the dick of a horse. Hancock was a young, broken man, looking to find some relief where he was told it was. And somehow, he lucked out, and met Caleb at a bar. His hair was red, and Hancock, being a shit, called him fire-crotch. And he smiled, his teeth crooked but endearing, and beamed, "at least my crotch burns for a good reason!" Johnny bought him a drink, and Caleb said only if they could share it. Of course he invited him to an alley. He doesn't know what happened to the guy, but damn, if that dick didn't do him good. He's glad his first time was with a decent person.

MacCready; They'd just left for Bigtown. He always thought she was cute, and funny, and smart, and nice, and he always liked how her nose wrinkled when she was annoyed. She always liked him, thought he was brave and noble and a knight in shining armor. They'd never kissed, or even held hands, but they found a little place in Bigtown together. They didn't discuss it beforehand, they just did. And the first night, MacCready went to sleep on the couch. But she took his hand, staring at the floor, her cheeks red, and pulled him to her room. It soon became their room.

Nick; a teenaged Nick Valentine's greatest achievement was shacking up with the star quarterback, some meathead named William Summey. Everyone called him Liam. He wasn't your typical jock. He didn't shove people into lockers, or harass anyone, but he gave the theater and art kids a rough time. Teased them. Thought it was dumb. Especially Nick. Called him gay once, and Nicky crossed his long legs, leaned back in his chair, and purred, "That's of interest to you, huh?" And ol' Liam shut up real quick, turned hot red while his buddies didn't know to beat the crap out of Nick, or give them some privacy. Liam sat by him on the bus, riding home. Nick was cornered, but God, did he feel powerful, then. Next day, Nick got in Liam's Corvega, and they went somewhere private. Last he heard of the guy, he moved to Vermont and opened a bed and breakfast with one of his 'friends' from his college football.

Piper; A trade caravan rolled into DC, one day. A merc stopped at the Dugout for a drink, same day Piper did. She was six feet tall, her long, blonde hair tied back in braids, held together with bone and metal. Her eyes were gaunt, dark, sharper than the axe on her back. And God, her arms, her legs, she was almost like a Super Mutant. Thick with muscle, you could see the tendons move like machinery beneath her skin. Piper took one look at her and froze, and she noticed the flushed reporter, laughed, and turned to Vadim to buy her a drink. Her name was Marta. She pulled Piper away to a booth in a corner, sat on the same side as her, pulled her in her lap. Poor Yefim, next time he came over, Piper paid for a room, and there was no mistaking why.

Preston; His first time was a threesome, and while he doesn't regret it, per say, he does think it was maybe overkill for his first time. It was one of his first assignments as a Minuteman. They just got back to a settlement after handling some raiders. One of the locals, he offered them dinner, happy to offer his food to the town's protectors. So, they had kind of a potluck. That guy had a kid, Isaiah, Preston's age. He was kind of grungy, thin in his long limbs but always smiling. His neighbor, Stacy, she was pale, and much more reserved, she barely met Preston's eye when he greeted her. Well, he stepped away from the party to get some air, get a moment to himself. They followed him. Isaiah stood in front of him, right in front. Stacy leaned against the barn wall right by him. Put her hand on his chest. While he blinked at that, Isaiah leaned in, boxed him in with a hand by his head on the wall. Preston wasn't a fool, he got the idea. He got a lot that night.

[zayne-li]

Eye of the Blizzard: chapter 1

Posting this because I'm actually working on it again. So far I have 6 chapters, nothing explicit so far, but it's coming! (Lmao) Also MC is not named in this chapter, but she is in future ones because... Writing in third person is easier for me. Triggers include mostly grieving. She's having a hard time dealing with the loss of Caleb and grandma

Yes, cross posted on ao3

Zayne: On the Steps

As a child, Zayne was always known for being the quiet one. He was awkward, even then, grown too tall and gangly for most of the other children his age. His shoes became too small too quickly, and his shorts were never long enough on his spindly legs.

Often, he was found with his head in a book, while the other children ran in circles around him, yelling and throwing things his way, trying to get him to join. Or perhaps just to try and get a reaction out of the odd boy. It took a great deal to upset him, even then, but tug on his shirt too many times, toss too much grass confetti over his hair, and eventually they would get him to pry his nose from the pages. He would shout and stomp away to sit alone.

It's just how he was, for a long time.

Iit wasn't that he was intentionally rude, he just felt himself to be misunderstood by his peers. He wasn't like them. He didn't understand them, either.

And then one day, he found a girl, crying over her melted popsicle. The way she smiled at him that day, as he performed his own sort of medical aid on her popsicle was something he never forgot. He often thought that something melted inside himself that day, instead of that popsicle.

Today, he still feels like that strange and awkward young boy, in many ways. Still isolated, still almost comfortable that way, or so he tells himself.

His heels clack against the pristine floors of Akso Hospital, the chaos and chatter that surrounds him is organized neatly as his brain filters the sounds, and he needs worry for nothing more than what his work brings him that day.

Until she returns.

At the cafe. That girl, from his childhood. The one who stood out in his memories like a warm pastry, like a bright, inescapable light. The one who smiled and laughed, even when he didn't, who saw the emotions he felt before he knew himself.

"Why are you crying?" She asked one day, finding him on the steps of her grandmother's house, arms wrapped around his boney knees, head buried in his elbow, his cheeks red. She was bent sideways, almost falling over, balanced on one foot, just to try and catch his eye.

"I'm not!" He'd shouted, muffled though it was by his arms.

His mother had died, that day. He never told her that's why he was crying, but she'd sat down quietly beside him and said nothing.

Really, it was all he had needed.

Someone to stay by him.

Today, Zayne knows that he loved her even then, as a boy. He meets her again, and those same, strange flutters in his stomach return as if not a day has passed. She sits at the table across from him and she is just the same as she was then, laughing and trying to get him to respond, almost undeterred with his near muteness. 

Truthfully, in that cafe, he imagines he is a child again, that she sees right through the careful shields he has constructed around himself and finds the boy who cried on her steps. 

The boy who one day dared to touch her of his own volition, broken and confused and struggling to understand how he could go on when his mother was no longer there.

She had been looking up at the sunset while Zayne hid in a cocoon of arms and legs, her palms flat against the concrete as she leaned back. It had been he who unfolded himself just enough to place his fingers near hers, desperate and seeking comfort, but afraid and unsure how to.

When their fingers only just brushed, something lit up inside, electricity sparked between them, and the world as he had known it erupted. For the second time that day.

He created a blizzard out of his unstable emotions, tumultuous and destructive. He can still remember the look in her eyes as an icicle of his own making ran itself through her stomach, the blood that spilled forth. The way he froze, horrified and screaming inside louder than the wind from his blizzard could ever hope to be.

What he doesn't remember is the sound of the door opening, of her grandmother's cry, just the image of the woman picking up his limp friend, and running as far away from him as they could get. 

Or how long it was before the snow and ice stopped, leaving him in a gruesome, bloody winter of his own creation.

Or... How his father found him, in shock, unaware of any of the cuts covering his hands and arms.

Present day

The halls of the hospital at this time are just as busy as ever, despite the hour, and despite the fact that he should have been home hours ago. Such is the life of those who choose medical work as a profession. Zayne has been here since 6 AM, he's bordering on an 18 hour shift right now, but he is far from the only one here who has had such a day, and it is far from the first or last time. 

A patient in need of emergency open heart surgery cannot wait for you to take your lunch break, after all, and it is where he's spent the better of the most recent 6 hours. Now, there is still a report to fill out, and going home is still a ways off.

Some may try to say otherwise, but Zayne is, in fact, human, and he can feel himself running on fumes. He enters his office with urgency, long strides carrying him across the room, and is both dismayed and relieved to see his favorite hunter still on his couch.

She rubs at her tired eyes, confused by her whereabouts, and blinks when she sees him cross the room and not sit, but stand at his desk. He hardly looks up as he reaches for her file, flicking through it with deft hands.

"Sorry, Zayne... I must have fallen asleep while I was waiting for you."

"You do realize it is 11PM, right?"

"... I've been busy with missions."

They both know that's a lie, he can tell by the tone in her voice, she's not fooling either of them.

He chooses, as he does, not to address the elephant in the room. Not right now.

"I do believe there is a follow up plan listed on your discharge summary." Zayne takes his pen, offers her only a cursory glance, and then drops his gaze once more, unwilling to face the deep sadness in her dark eyes. Were he to allow it to, it would crack his heart in two, and he knows, remembers better than she does how catastrophic that would be. 

No, it's better to keep his distance. For both of their sakes.

"I suppose you didn't notice."

"I..." She falters, and Zayne pretends to be absorbed in her chart, though he's sure he has the entire thing memorized. "If I don't busy myself, then..."

Just as he catches her eyes, she curls in on herself. Broken. "I'll think of that day. I've been having dreams about them whenever I close my eyes." 

It's like a knife in his chest, to see her this way, and be helpless against it. He is a doctor, not an angel, after all, there is nothing he can do to bring back Caleb, or her grandmother. There is no way for him to heal a wound this deep in her heart. 

All he can do right now is sit beside her while she cries, as she did for him, many years ago. Nothing more. 

Zayne slides a mint across the desk. An offering. The only comfort he can give. "It's okay." His voice is soft, the slight frown on his lips the only thing that betrays his concern. "I understand it's hard. You must do what you can while you cope with your grief."

We all must learn how to. And it is never easy.

"Of course, you also need to make sure you aren't injured in the process. Caleb and your grandmother would want you to take care of yourself."

He can see how ragged she is, and determines to get them both out of here and home in bed as quickly as possible. The hunter needs her sleep just as much as he needs his own. 

After the explosion, your cardiac function index significantly increased. It's most likely a result of the Metaflux." He turns to his shelf, and takes a small data pad down. It's high time he makes good on his promise to her grandmother, and it will do neither of them any good for him to wait for a right moment. As he does, he continues, "At least three months of rest and observation are required. But your circumstances called for me to make an exception."

To him, she looks like an injured animal. Protecting her stomach and chest with her arms, avoiding his eyes, bouncing her foot without even seeming to notice. He can't help but blame himself. He should have known to keep her here, as close as he could. This hunter just lost what little family she had left, her heart was weak already, and now it bears a new injury.

"Seeing your current state, I regret discharging you early." There's only a slight bitterness to his tone, and he moves to his computer screen, typing up his report of tonight's earlier patient as they talk.

Zayne still doesn't know how to love, or how to make her see it, and truth be told, he's frightened too. Frightened to hurt her again. This way, in his office, as her doctor, he is certain he can keep her safe. But the more intertwined their lives become, the tighter he feels icy anxiety wrap around his chest.

"I just want to know why the explosion had to happen..." She is lost. 

And he made a promise. A promise to a woman who had raised this powerful hunter, who trusted him with her granddaughter. Despite everything, that day as children, when she had looked at him in the center of that deadly, icy storm and had run, trusted him on her deathbed with the most precious thing in her life. 

He wishes he could understand why. What he had done to deserve such trust when he had been nearly responsible for the young hunters death. 

"Take it." Zayne slides over the data pad.

"... What is it?" She does, curious, and her brows furrow up at him.

"Your grandmother asked me to give it to you... However whether or not now is a good time..." He can't be sure this is the right thing to do, but he knows that whatever is on the data pad belongs to her, and he has no business keeping it. "In any case, perhaps this has the answers you seek."

She always seems to do better when she has something to focus on, anyway, and in his own experience, focusing on grief does nothing but cripple you. It opens with her fingerprint, as he knew it would, and the hunter frowns as she looks it over, equal parts misery and confusion.

"What else did Grandma say when she gave this to you?" Her gaze is piercing, seeking answers when they meets his, and he quickly has to avert his own eyes. 

"Just to give it to you."

<em>To protect you at all costs. To watch over you, and keep you safe. </em>

He is terrified that her grandmother's request will be impossible for him to fulfill. 

He must protect her. He is all she has now, but he cannot be what she needs. He must stay close, he must stay beside her, but he must never let their fingers touch the way they did that day, on the steps in the warmth of the sunset again.

Zayne's terror increases tenfold when, moments later, a wanderer attacks his <em>office</em>, dragging them both away from reality and into its protofield. He is not prepared, not ready for any of this. No one ever is.

The Gods do not care. 

In fact, sometimes, he thinks he can hear them laughing.