#Caleb would break and absolutely burn the world for taking them away from him

[redstarcat]

Love worth burning for

[heliads]

Touch-starved

Based on this request: “after getting close to the reader before the Orpheum through writing sessions and such and hating the fact that they “couldn’t touch”... well now that Julie freed them from Caleb... it’s game over now and Luke uses every chance he gets to express his love for y/n.”

masterlist

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs pulled up around your chest. A never ending stream of tears leaks from your eyes, and you stare unseeingly at your feet. It’s over now, isn’t it? Luke is gone, and there’s no coming back from this. Not ever.

You had thought that he might be coming back just once, when Julie walked out onto the stage of the Orpheum. You think you might have been one of the only people in the audience to see the red rims of her eyes, and realize that she would be alone for that performance. Had the boys crossed over already? You never even got the chance to say goodbye.

Then they had appeared, bursting into existence on the stage in time to the music. Luke had been there too, and you’d watched with bated breath as he flickered in and out of sight before finally making it through, away from whatever was holding him back to stay decisively with his band. You had allowed yourself a sigh of relief, the hope that he might have finally completed his unfinished business and be allowed to stay with you.

Even the thought of Luke makes you break out into a fresh wave of sobs. How long had it been since you had met him? Two weeks? Three? It didn’t really matter- it still wasn’t enough time. He had burst into your world in a splash of color and music, bringing with him endless memories and good times. At first, he’d been mainly concerned with your best friend, Julie, but after he realized your skill at songwriting, he started dropping by your house too.

Then ten minute writing sessions became half an hour, and you started visiting Julie’s studio to hear Luke play and offer advice. They became more frequent, a part of your life that you grew to depend on just like food or drink. You became close friends, and then even that wasn’t enough for the two of you. You’d look up from your notebook to see a pair of warm brown eyes hurriedly glancing away, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. You’d stare at the way his hair fell in his face and the curve of his hand as he pushed it away. You knew it when time seemed to pass far faster with him than anywhere else, or when all your songs seemed to be about him. You knew then that you loved him.

You were afraid to say anything about it, too terrified to lose those golden hours in the brightly lit studio and dark, star-studded nights. When he first told you that he loved you too, you weren’t sure what to say. Could it ever be true that Luke, this boy full of sunshine and overwhelming happiness, would ever fall for a girl like you? Yet it was, and you loved him all the more for it.

Like it or not, there was always something hovering in the corner of your mind every time his hand brushed over yours just to pass through it, or when you turned to see Luke staring at your lips, knowing that there was nothing he could do. In the end, Luke was a ghost and you were human. No amount of love could change that, although the two of you certainly gave it your best try.

But none of that mattered now, did it? You’d take a thousand missed kisses, a hundred lingering stares just to have him back. You had looked up when the boys disappeared after their final bow, and seen the look on Julie’s face. The two of you had locked eyes, and that one stare communicated a thousand words and pains, all saying the same thing. They’re gone. They won’t come back, not this time.

You knew that if you were a good friend, you would have gone to talk to Julie after her concert, but you just couldn’t bear it. You did talk to her, technically, you gave her a hurried hug and brief exclamations of pride over her performance. You both knew it was only superficial, like if you focused on the songs themselves you wouldn’t have to think about the fact that the boys were truly gone from you. She understood, and she had pulled you tight one last time before you disappeared, both of you mourning silently for the bandmates never to be seen again.

You had driven home silently, flying up the stairs and closing your bedroom door behind you with a click. Only then, with the door firmly shut and with yourself finally alone did you let the tears come. They washed over you in waves, racking your body in sobs. You missed Luke, missed him more than everything. You’ve never loved anyone like you love Luke. Loved Luke. Now he’s gone, and you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with yourself.

So you sit alone, crying your heart out. The tears have subsided a little bit. Gone are the loud sobs, replaced instead by inaudible agony. In a way, the silence hurts even more. There’s a sound behind you, the click of your window sliding open. You don’t bother to turn around, speaking to the person with your back facing them. “I’m sorry, Julie, but I really can’t talk right now.” You continue nursing your tissue box, but freeze when you hear a new voice instead.

“I’m not Julie, Y/N.” Your eyes widen, and you whirl around to see him. Luke. Can it really be Luke? You stand up hesitantly, your knees buckling. In the back of your mind you realize you must be a mess, with your teary eyes and everything, but none of that matters. The only thing that’s worth a fragment of your time is the fact that the boy you love is here, and walking towards you. “Luke?”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged. Oh, and I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.” You frown at him, confused, and then he reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Stunned into silence, you return the embrace, burying your face against his shoulder. Your hands clasp around his back, and it takes everything in you to just stand there.

After a moment that seems more like a year, he leans away, tracing your cheek gently with his hands to wipe away your tears. “You don’t have to cry anymore, Y/N. I’m here. I promise.” You shake your head slowly in bewilderment. “How is this possible? I mean, you’re here, and I can-” You break off, unable to think about anything more than his hand on your cheek, your palm pressed up against the curve of his back.

Luke smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth sliding up. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m here with you, and that’s more than I can ask for.” He looks at you for a moment, then leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. You feel your heart race in your chest, and kiss him back.

After that, you feel like you’re on top of the world. You have Luke, even when it seemed like you’d never see him again. You find yourself making excuses to drop by the studio and feel his kiss on your cheek, to walk home with him, hands linked together, to do anything and everything with him.

On one of these days, you’re stretched out on the faded sofa in Julie’s studio, brow furrowed as you study your math notes. There’s a test tomorrow, and you’d be a lot more miserable were it not for the fact that your legs are draped across Luke’s lap, his hand tracing idle patterns into your skin as he considers his battered songwriting notebook.

Luke must feel your gaze lingering on him, because he looks up with a grin. “Hey, I know I’m good-looking and everything, but I think you should be focusing more on your math. That’s what you said you needed to do, isn’t it?” You feel your cheeks burning and roll your eyes, pretending to be unaffected. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If anything, I should go study somewhere else so I don’t have to be distracted by your, uh, hideousness.”

Luke laughs, the sound ringing like a bell in the empty studio. “My hideousness?” You nod. “Yes. I know it can be hard to hear, but-” Luke leans forward, cutting you off with a kiss. He pulls away, noting the blush spreading about your cheeks with a grin. “You still sure about that?” You huff in irritation and look away, but can’t help a grin.

It is a frigid November afternoon, and a walk through the neighbourhood on the way to Julie’s house has only made you even colder. Rubbing your arms in an attempt to keep warm, you open the studio doors and slip inside, where it’s not much better than the outdoors. You don’t see anyone inside, so it looks like you’ll be waiting for at least a little longer. 

You glance around, hoping to see a blanket or something to keep you warm, but your eyes fall instead on a flannel jacket. It’s brown and soft, tossed casually across a chair. Nobody’s here, and you’re absolutely freezing, so you put your backpack down on the ground, picking up the jacket and sliding your arms into it. The flannel is warm, and you wrap it around yourself, breathing in the familiar scent.

You’re only in the studio for a few moments longer when Luke poofs into the room. He spies you and grins, heading towards you with a flurry of conversation. “There you are, Y/N! I was hoping you’d drop by. Alex and Julie just came up with this amazing idea for a song, it’s got a good melody but I know you’d come up with some killer lyrics if you heard it, and-”

His words die off as he comes to a stop in front of you. “Is that my jacket?” You glance up at him, then back at the flannel still wrapped around you. Your hands fly to the sleeves, and you start to tug it off. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It was really cold, and it was the closest thing and-” Luke’s hands cover yours, stopping you from removing the coat. “No, it’s fine.”

He grins at you. “Looks good on you.” His hands leave yours, traveling up to rest instead on the curve of your hips as he pulls you close to him. Your hands thread in the soft curls of his hair as he kisses you. You’re beginning to think that you could stay here forever, but then you hear the faint sounds of commotion drifting up from the area outside the studio doors, and Luke groans softly.

“That’s the boys.” You pull away, laughing at the disappointed look on his face. “They’re your friends, try not to look so sad about it.” Luke reaches for your hands again, slowly running his thumb against the curves of your wrist. You shiver slightly, although this time it has nothing to do with the cold. Alex and Reggie are getting closer to the studio, so Luke presses one last kiss to your forehead before it’s too late. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave so I can walk you home?” He mumbles against your cheek, and you nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. This moment, right here, so close to Luke? You wouldn’t trade it for anything, and you know right then that you’ll be in love with him forever, as long as he stays by your side and you stay by his. Forever sounds good to you.

[cadykeus-clay]

i would low key love to hear your tangent about the differences there are between how VM and TM9 react with the world

ah, the perfect excuse for me to put off my 30 page reading, thank you :3

(i’m also going to preface this by saying most of this is stuff i’ve picked from other people’s various metas and i absolutely do not remember who those authors might be so i apologize jsdlkfsd)

....

but uh ... basically i feel like vox machina and the nein have a completely opposite standard for how they interact with the people the consider to be their “inner circle” vs. everyone who doesn’t qualify as that. 

vm is a group of individuals who, overall, had one cruel person that slighted them but didn’t really destroy their faith in humanity. (their faith in themselves is a whole different horse. that ones .... woof. looking at you percy scanlan tary keyleth.) Percy had the briarwoods, Grog had Kevdak, the twins and tary had their father. so, the way that they interact with just random people that they meet is - with exceptions of course - amicable, or at the very least, respectably polite. 

they’re the saviours of emon, the freers of whitestone. they have festivals held in their honor. they have kid fans and random farmers knocking on their doorstep for aid because they’ve heard tales of the kindness. sure, vex can be a hassle when she’s haggling down a price, and keyleth tends to poke buttons in way that gets her arrested a fair amount of the time, but at the end of the day they’re the people’s heroes, and they’re happy to be that!

their inner circle, however, is much more closely guarded. they have a few chosen allies (gilmore, allura, kima, kash and zahra, cassandra) and that’s it. They’re hesitant with anyone else trying to creep into their personal fold. Hell, it took beating up tary and him breaking down sobbing for them to even consider liking him. they’ve been burned by raishan and clarota and hotis, by individuals they let in and who then stabbed them in the back. they’ll do almost any favor for a stranger who asks, but they’ll be damned if they trust anyone to actually join their midst. vox machina is vox machina is vox machina and that’s incredibly hard to change. 

the nein, on the other hand, are fundamentally a group of rejects. some of them have specific people they can point a finger at and say “i hate you”, but those problems stem from a greater societal rejection. beau has daddy issues, but she also felt rejected by the entire cobalt soul until dairon found her. caleb has trent’s fucked up shit, but he also has this constant pressure of having failed his entire country, not to mention the faceless hate piled up on him from living homeless for a year. jester’s whole deal is that she had to hide from LITERALLY ALL OF SOCIETY for her entire childhood because she wasn’t supposed to exist.

and so, the nein are shitheads to society right back. they’re mean to random barkeeps, they trash their inns and don’t say sorry, they mock most NPCs behind their back (or sometimes right to their face. @ marius).  Every favor asked of them comes with a ton of deliberation and arguing about whether its bait or not (ie bowlgate, the giants in the mine outside rosohna, essiks “favors”). 

but, on the flip side, they’re willing to tug just about anyone into their ranks. if society already hates them by default, what’s there to lose if they get close to someone? nothing, there’s only more love to be found! so it’s adopting random bird girls on the road, its sending cupcakes to a hag that cursed your friend, its sending messages to everyone you’ve ever met just to check in, it’s making someone sit in the hot tub with you and share trauma and then when you find out he started a war you say “we get it bro” and kiss him on the forehead. it’s “welcome to the mighty nein”. 

and it’s also very interesting, i think, to talk about the ways in which the party interacts with themselves. vox machina was a family, undoubtedly, as is the nein now. but vox machina ... had a lack of desperation to their attachment. i mean for one, they took a full year off from adventuring together and scattered cross continent. even if the nein gets down time like they did, i expect they’ll just trail each other around like lemmings. (its kind of what they’ve been doing from hiatus until now with the eiselcross arc starting). 

but vox machina just ... went. and scanlan walked away from the party and (after the heat of the moment), they agreed to just let him be. and pike would spend weeks on quests for sarenrae without much of a complaint. even at the end - and this will be a controversial take, i know - but they let vax go pretty easily. (sure, mechanically they were wiped from fighting, but besides tears the only attempt to defy trq was from percy, which even he gave up on with minimal struggle because vax said to stop it). that’s not to say they don’t miss each other when they’re gone! of course they do!!! but they trust each other to go off into the world, because the world as whole is a place they trust. 

(the one exception to this might be vex, who fought every one of these situations adamantly, but that’s a whole separate essay about her issues stemming from an innate sense of ‘failed family’ that she’s desperate to not repeat, and less about a mistrust of everyone until proven otherwise)

the nein on the other hand. hoo boy. they’ve been hot glued to each other’s hips since day one. So many quotes (many from beau, which could be worked into my previous vex essay, as they’re very much cross-campaign foils. getting sidetracked again) are about their inability to separate. “You don’t get to choose who cares about you”; “No one goes”; “If one of us is gone for more than 7 days assume we’re dead and have a funeral”; “Do we have co-dependecy issues?” Jester’s cool personal vacation to her god’s get together turned into a party with everyone because why would she go anywhere without the nein? Veth’s time with Luc and/or Yeza is constantly overrun with the rest of the nein dropping in for fun. Even small things like shopping trips are so much more “oh well if you’re going then i’ll go” snowballs than they ever were with vm. 

Also, ashley’s absences had to be much more forceful than in c1. Post episode 11, the only time yasha left the group (rather than someone else piloting her) of her own free will was when she ran in grief from molly’s grave. And yes, there’s something to be said about “oh they were on a boat for a long time she had nowhere to go” but if Matt can justify astral projection pike, i feel like he could justify ‘the stormlord teleports yasha away for a bit’ and he chose not to. 

Because!!!!!!!!! of the dynamic that the nein has!!!!!!!! Because of this idea that the world is bad and cold and full of hate and in here in our little hut (soon to be mansion??????) it’s safe and good and full of love and no one can leave because then you’d be going somewhere much more dangerous and we can’t have that, now can we? 

.....

well uh. that’s a lot of words. i hope they made some sense??? and were at all what you were expecting???? thank u for sending the ask tho this was very fun to write!!

tldr: vox machina is a group of people who were betrayed by one bad figure, so they trust the world and are wary of the individual; whereas the nein is a group of people who were failed by the world at large so they welcome the loner and fear the pack. 

[dent-de-leon]

Mollymauk, 4, 5, 11, 13, 14, 15, 21, 22 :D (feel free to trim down if this is too many)

asksjkdf I'm sorry in advance because I got a little carried away so this got a little long, but thanks for the ask! I love any and every excuse to talk about Mollymauk...

4.) Best places to kiss on their body

I think Molly is actually very partial to forehead kisses! I feel like he uses that to ground Caleb in part because it’s something that’s always been very comforting to him--for instance, when Yasha finally gets to embrace him again, she also kisses his forehead. I think I remember Molly doing this for the twins back at the carnival too, so I feel like it’s a habit he picked up from the circus? Just the kind of little thing you do for someone to show you love them.

Aside from that, I think he would really appreciate a kiss on the neck, where most of his blood hunter scars--and that haunting red Eye--are. A bit of loving tenderness to soothe the pain.

5.) Guilty pleasures

Oh I love this pick for Molly cause boY does he have a lot of these!! He builds a life off joy and hedonism, so he’s got this in spades. I forget where, but I’ve definitely seen someone theorize before that the reason base pleasures are so appealing to Molly is because he started out just feeling like an “Empty” body, so anything that’s very stimulating on a physical level is very grounding for him? I really like the idea of that. I think wanting to feel like he was really “alive” and “whole” is part of why he gravitated towards decadence and indulgence, anything that made his heart beat faster.

The episode where we get the famous “Long may I reign” scene definitely covers a lot of his favorite indulgences. But as much as he loves being spoiled, I think he also likes making sure the people he cares about are pampered like royalty too. Taliesin mentioned before that the reason Molly likes gold so much is because he’s got this very childish perception that money is Good because you can use it to get Nice Things that make other people Happy. Since Molly’s been alive for only two years, I feel like a lot of his guilty pleasures actually stem from this sort of sentiment. The fact that he’s still so young and everything in the world is very new and exciting and he just wants to be as happy as possible--and make his loved ones happy too. It’s a very endearingly innocent sort of view.

11.) Bad or petty habits

Hmmm I feel like the one thing that makes Molly the pettiest is when someone tries to tell him his tarot readings are bullshit lmao. Even if he mostly thinks so himself, he adamantly refuses to hear it from anyone else.

13.) What gets them flustered

I think whenever someone is being very genuine and having a real heart to heart with him. Molly is perfectly at ease talking bullshit or telling pretty lies. He’s also very comfortable being very sincere and compassionate when it comes to comforting others, like the little ways he’s always trying to cheer up Jester, the forehead kiss for Caleb, promising Fjord the Nein won’t let him die, bringing Yasha a four-leaf-clover with the wish that one day she’ll feel happier.

But whenever people are openly affectionate and trying to have an honest conversation with him? I think that makes him tense up and panic a bit. He’s not good with letting himself be vulnerable, dropping his showman’s performance. We actually see a lot of this when Molly is resurrected and starts going by Kingsley. He knows he has feelings for the Nein, but he’s definitely a little nervous and overwhelmed when he confronts that.

Several times, Caleb assures King he’s still welcome in the Nein, and that always makes Kingsley either defensive or very quiet, keeps catching him off-guard. “Well for starters, you are with friends.” “Perhaps this is your first time meeting us. It's our second time...Stick with us.” “We have a habit of taking in strays.” “This is the newest member of the band.” Being accepted just like that, loved by all the Nein so unconditionally, just like that? I think it leaves him a little shaken, because he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything to earn it. Like he doesn’t deserve to be this missed and wanted and loved.

14.) Ingrained habits/forces of habit

I think there are some nights where he keeps looking over his shoulder and feels like he’s being watched--when the Eyes of Nine start to itch and burn, when it feels like something’s crawling under his skin--and he looks at the mirror and swears he sees a face that looks just the same but somehow isn’t his. And for a while after he first wakes--and again when he’s resurrected--I think there are still moments when he’s scared or panicked and he’ll just keep repeating Empty over and over.

I also really like how Taliesin used to just pick a random card from his tarot deck to decide what Molly should do. I can definitely see Mollymauk doing something similar--just pulling a random card from his deck on a whim, trusting it’ll lead him in the right direction.

15.) What it takes to make them cry

I feel like Molly rarely cries, mainly because he hates feeling sorry for himself or ruminating on any bad memories. He’s kinda funny that way; he refuses to let himself be unhappy, especially when he feels like he’s always living on borrowed time. The one thing I can see really making him break down is seeing his loved ones hurting--he literally spits at the face of his own death, but I think he’s really terrified of losing someone else.

If there’s one scene where I can really see Molly crying, it’s when Jester falls in that final battle. When Caleb makes this desperate plea that breaks through to Molly for a single heart-wrenching moment, “You’re killing her, you’re killing her! You love her. You’re killing her!” The absolute horror of that shakes Lucien’s control for just a moment, and Molly claws at his own face in retaliation. You can just tell how much his heart is breaking just then, how scared he is, how much he must hate himself. I could definitely imagine Molly shedding a few tears right then, if he had enough control of the body to do it.

Having to watch Lucien use his body to kill Jester and Caleb, the amount of pain Lucien caused Yasha and all the others, the nightmares of his death and black chains that forever haunt him after--I think those are the kinds of things that would bring Molly to tears in his lowest moments. And when he finally reads Beau’s book and finds out about how Yasha suffered a similar fate under Obann? Yeah, I think he’d get choked up over that too.

21.) Turning points in their life

Oh, there’s so many interesting twists and turns Molly’s life takes in just a few short years. Undoubtably, I think every life, death, and rebirth left the biggest impact. The fact that he woke all alone that first time--and then found himself surrounded by so many loved ones a lifetime later--I think that had a profound impact on his sense of self worth and his attachment to others.

That first life, Molly convinces himself that he must have been someone awful before, to have been left alone in an unmarked grave on the side of the road. With no one who missed or mourned him. He believes he somehow deserves that fate. And when he’s taken in by the circus? Taliesin mentions he never spends more than 24 hours alone. He’s...very lonely, I think. Someone who can’t bear to be isolated again. So when he wakes up again to a whole family of people who love him? Who welcome him wholeheartedly and insist they’ll love him unconditionally, no matter who he is? It’s beautiful, and it means the world to someone like Mollymauk/Kingsley. “I’m looking forward to the future. And I hope to deserve to have woken up surrounded by such people.”

Molly’s also mentioned that it was the Moonweaver who helped guide him when he first woke, who gave him comfort in having a new start in life. “Can you imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything about anything that had happened to you so far?...It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing--It’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person. The Moonweaver--” However he came to worship the Moonweaver, I think it was definitely one of the most formative experiences in all his lives. I also like to headcanon the woman in a red coat Molly/King met in his dream was another visit from the Moonweaver, and she was either trying to return his memories or offer him another chance at a fresh start.

22.) People who’ve influenced them greatly

Oh, pre-campaign I think Molly modeled a lot of his behaviors and mannerisms after others in the circus, especially Gustav. He’s the one who named Mollymauk and presumably the one who spent the most time raising him and caring for him in that Empty period.

Molly has his own set of morals he feels very strongly about, and it’s entirely learned from the circus, “Things came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.” “I may be a liar, but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work and I believe in doing a good turn...I stayed with that circus for two years, and I know how people treat each other. It’s important.” When Molly is resurrected again, I think all of the Mighty Nein have very much the same effect on him.

[chronicalchaos]

Wick modern AU: Explained +Some fun facts

Uhm, i was gonna wait until i finish this AU's synopsis and new book cover, but both will be taking a while until they get ready...

And i wanted to post this "overview" for a while now, anyways, here's some fun facts and a summary of the story:

Old book cover:

I'm really proud of Sam's shading, but the twins look weird and Tom looks old...I won't use this cover, 'cus Travis and Duncan are main characters as well and i want to include them on the cover. +My art style changed!

Story summary:

Just a quick thing! I changed quite a few things to fit the narrative and the modern days setting, i hope you understand!

The story of this AU happens in September 2014, a little less than a month until Sam’s birthday, where the Weavers aren't dead– Well, most of them aren't...

The narrative is centered on a curse, that was based on the audio that plays when you pick up Benny's bible, where 7 people are affected by it: Tim, Tom, John, Sam, John's brother/Sam's dad(I won't name him), Mary and James.

Sam's, Travis' and Duncan's side of the story will be more on the investigative side maybe with a bit of comedy(I'm not good with writing that, so it will most likely be just investigation), while Tim and Tom's side will be the more angst and unusual/horror side. Sam will have a bit of horror as well, since he's linked with them by the curse, but the twins will definitely have the spotlight when it comes to horror/unusual stuff.

Fun Facts:

General:

The story happens a week, maybe a bit more, after summer break

Even tho one of the first chapters is set on school, them going to school will probably just be mentioned or implied, Example: Them leaving a school bus

For some reason, i saw a few stories where everyone knew what polio is and how it works, which i felt it wouldn't be realistic, so that won't happen here

It has a lot of paranormal stuff

The summer camp by the Weaver's property is closed and has been like that for a few years now

Just Mary and James call the twins Changelings, the rest of the city knows there are "changelings" walking around, just, not that the twins are them

There's no changelings, they think there is, but in reality it's just a curse(like that's something lighter than a demon switched with a child at birth)

The song that helps me get in the mood of this story when I'm writing is "Far too young to die" by Panic! At the disco

Timas Weaver:

Tim is 12, he'll be 13 in...approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the oldest between him and Tom

He's almost an inch shorter than Tom

He has a huge burn scar! It goes from a bit more than half of his chest, both his arms, his palms and his whole neck, he got that scar when he was 3 years old

He's does not have asthma, but he does have extreme pyrophobia on it's place

He has flat affect, his face doesn't match his emotions/he looks serious most of the time(I'm so sorry if I don't portrait it right! Please give me constructive criticism if I do something wrong here!)

He's a theater kid and would be quoting a lot of musicals if Mary didn't isolate him and Tom from the world(The theater part only exists because of his and Tom's masks)

The whittling thing exists here, but like, it won't be of much importance to the story, the knife will! But not the whittle part

He despises spiders and it's Tom's fault!

He climbs trees (there's not much I can say here to be honest)

He has this...i don't know if you can call it a quirk, but, he tends to tilt his head to the left, it's kinda random

He's ambidextrous, was left handed, but Mary forced him to learn to use his right hand

He teached himself how to throw knifes...don't mess with him

Paranoia!

Needs therapy

Tomathy Weaver:

Tom is 12 and will be 13 in approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the youngest between him and Tim

He's almost an inch taller than Tim

He doesn't have Polio now, he did when he was...around 5 years old

His left leg is bigger than his right one, his right feet reaches his left ankle

His left ankle is paralyzed, that's why he uses a leg brace

He's claustrophobic, he developed that on the same day Tim got his scar and pyrophobia

He won first place on a spelling bee before he got Polio and he used to spell when he got anxious, but after John's disappearence he started shuddering, shaking and cracking his joints instead, very similar to how he shudders on the game

He loves spiders!

He is really flexible, but, because of his polio, he can't play around with it anymore

He likes to draw

He has pretty bad scoliosis

Paranoia #2!

Socially awkward baby

Went to therapy when little, needs to go back

Caleb Weaver:

Caleb is 9 years old

He was born August 19th 2005

He's almost the same height as Timas

He was a year old when Tom had polio

He's actually James' kid, not John's

He won first place in 2014's(the year the story happens) county track meet

He dislikes Tim

Lillian Weaver:

Lillian is 5 years old

She was born February 28th 2009

She's a bit tall for her age

She's notorious for making little deals between her and her siblings, like helping them get away with something in exchange of something(getting her out of class during their recess, buying a new plushy, etc.)

She's a really curious and affectionate kid, loves hugs, kisses and especially being picked on someone's lap

She loves bunnies(even tho this isn't a surprise)

Benjamin Weaver:

Benjamin is 14 years old and will be 15 in less then a month

He was born October 24th 1999

He's just really tall compared to the twins (it's kinda funny, Tim and Tom are 4 years older than Caleb, but they are just an inch taller than him)

He's really religious and prays a lot for his siblings' health and safety

He's been trying to take care of Tom after John's disappearence, since Mary doesn't do it, much the opposite, she hides Tom's medicines on purpose

Mary Weaver:

I didn't give her neither an age nor a birthday...i probably need to do that

She had an affair with James, when the twins were 4 and Benny was 6, Caleb was born from this affair

She doesn't hit any of her kids, but she does neglect most of them

On the nights between Saturday and Sunday, she doesn't sleep, she spends this time praying with a candle, then, before they go to church, she writes everything that happened that night on her diary

She has a lot of diaries, she keeps them in the attic

She's a little bitch(i don't know what else to say about her)

Pastor James McAlroy:

James also doesn't have an age nor birthday (i only have the Weaver kids and Sam's birthdays)

He won't appear much, but he does have a big role on the story

He's Caleb's biological dad(i mentioned that like 3 times already)

He tried doing a "honest-to-god exorcism" on the twins, it was just a cover for an attempt of murder

He's a toxic little shit(there's not much I can say about him)

Samuel Burton:

Sam is 12 years old and will be 13 in less than a month

He was born in October 2nd 2001

Him and Travis are Brothers on their mom's part

He's cousin with the Weavers, minus Caleb, they just don't know each other

He can be just as smug as Travis sometimes

He absolutely hates going on ghost hunting, he thinks it's dumb

He has long hair and freckles all over his body

He's just too lazy to tie his own shoes

He's the only one that remembers to bring a backpack when ghost hunting

While Travis is the camera man, he's the flashlight guy

Travis Burton:

Travis is 15 years old and i don't have a birthday for him, well, he would be born in 1999 just like Benny

He doesn't like wearing glasses, but doesn't have other choice, he either doesn't take proper care of his lenses and gets his eyes irritated or he just lost them

He's the face of his and Duncan's channel

He tries to drag Sam to be part of the channel, but he doesn't really want to be part of it

He cusses way too much

He's brave, only because he goes face first into danger without thinking

Duncan:

Duncan is 15 and would also be born in 1999

Big ass coward, sends Travis and Sam to go investigate on his place every fucking time

Entitled as fuck

The "brain" behind his and Travis' channel

He's suspiciously good on researching, he'll find the most unexpected things about you

He's a little shit as well

...i think that's it! Now i can go continue the first chapter and maybe finish it soon

[anthonyjlockwood]

17 OF THE 50 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU FOR LALEXIE PLEASEEEE

em, my fellow luke angst lover, my lalexie brain rot-causer, my beloved <3

here is your prompt on ao3. tw for discussions of luke wanting to cross over. please read responsibly💜

Luke’s song book has been through a lot over the years.

It’s had tears soaked into its pages. It’s had crumbs stuck in between its binding. It’s had dozens of songs written on it in fast, messy handwriting, thousands of words based on Luke’s inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams.

It’s survived years worth of scribbles, cross-outs, rips and tears; even hugs and kisses, when Luke’s written something he’s sure will be a hit someday.

It’s survived death, some time in a dark room, and a tumbling trip back to Earth twenty five years in the future.

And now, the boy who’s been writing in it for all that time, whose soul is attached to it in ways most people wouldn’t even understand, is using its pages for something else.

Something no one would have ever expected.

A list.

Ways I Can Cross Over.

He thought that maybe, Unsaid Emily would’ve been it. There was a small part of him that had expected to just vanish into thin air the second Julie handed his parents that sheet of notebook paper.

His notebook is almost empty now. Luke thinks that that’s fitting; he’s spent most of his soul onto the pages. He’s a ghost. He’s got nothing more to give. Maybe it’s even a sign -- a sign that he’s not going to need to write music for much longer. The notebook is running out of space. It’s running out of time, just like he is.

He wonders if he could even use a new songbook. It wouldn’t be a part of him, the way his old one was. It would be empty; a blank slate for him to start a new journey in. A whole new marathon to run just as he’s crossing the finish line of the last one.

And… he doesn’t want to.

He’s tired of running. Running from his parents. Running from Caleb. From things that he broke, from things that were threatening to break him. From things that were hurting his friends.

Luke’s always been one for impulsive decisions.

So after he makes his list, he dog-ears the page and gives himself a time limit.

He has until the pages run out in his notebook to figure out what his unfinished business is… and finish it.

~

The problem is, Luke’s life on Earth wasn’t that long. He’s had seventeen years to start things, and practically no time at all to finish them. The possibilities of what his unfinished business actually is are endless. There was that music festival the guys had wanted to play at the end of summer ‘95. Countless world tours they wanted to go on. He wanted to sign an autograph for Dave Grohl, shake hands with Mick Jagger. He wanted to drink chocolate from the world’s largest chocolate waterfall in Alaska.

So few of these things he could actually do, now that he was dead.

Even fewer of them he could do without the guys. If his unfinished business really had to be just for him, maybe the band stuff wouldn’t be enough.

He never finished high school. He never learned how to play the bass -- he’s always wanted to; after all, Reggie could play the guitar, so Luke should know how to play his instrument, too.

And the only other thing he could think of that was absolutely, one hundred percent his business to finish… was his relationship with his mother.

Julie bringing “Unsaid Emily” over to his old house had been something. It filled the hole in his chest just enough that he could pretend it wasn’t there. Having his mom finally see how he felt about her, how much he regretted leaving, was like putting an ice pack on a burn. It eased the pain for the moment, had him thinking maybe that would be enough, that it would heal properly. But the ice pack’s melted, now; it’s gone back to room temperature, and his heart is still screaming.

Luke wonders what else he would have to do to get rid of the guilt.

He knows -- he hopes -- that the guilt won’t follow him to the afterlife. Because it’s really the only thing about this ghost-limbo that he wants to escape from. He doesn’t mind the invisibility, or the intangibility, because those things have never really prevented him from playing music. Music, though, he’ll miss, but Luke thinks it’s a small price to pay. After all, Alex and Reggie should’ve had their whole lives to play music. And even if Luke crosses over, they still can. He’s the one who caused their untimely deaths in the first place.

And he can never undo that, but… something he’s realized as all of them have adjusted to being ghosts is that he’s not really needed.

Sunset Curve could go on as a trio. Julie would still have her found family in Alex and Reggie and Willie. Reggie would have his friends that remained, as well as Ray and Carlos to fill in any gaps.

And Alex and Willie would have each other.

~

For Willie, the whole concept of “unfinished business” is just… not really on his radar. He’s pretty content in his afterlife. He is, as the kids say, vibing. He’s moving along, singing a song. He was never in any rush to figure out what his unfinished business was, and he was especially never in any rush to cross over, to fade out of existence entirely and into the unknown.

He also never really understood why other ghosts would want to do that. Until he met Alex and the others, and realized that sometimes, urgency forces your hand. Outside circumstances throw you out of your comfort zone, force you to do things you never would’ve considered before.

But also, since meeting Alex, the tiny part of his soul that’s always been curious about what his unfinished business was -- curious about crossing over, about what’s on the other side -- has pretty much shriveled away to nothing. Alex gives a whole new meaning to Willie’s life -- to his afterlife, really -- but the drummer makes him feel alive again in a way that he hasn’t felt in decades. Long before he’d forgotten the age-old saying, look both ways before you cross the street.

Willie wouldn’t call himself the most observant person on Earth. Sometimes, he can be a little oblivious. He can be blinded to the truth, only see what he wants to see -- he can deny what’s right in front of him. Give people the benefit of the doubt who don’t deserve it, like he’s done with Caleb so many times before.

He tries not to stress about things. Tries to just be. Live -- or do whatever he’s doing as a ghost, honestly -- with no regrets, no looking back. He doesn’t worry about consequences. But at the same time, he’s also scared of disappointing people. Scared of how he’s coming across to other people. He needs to make sure he’s not messing up too too badly, because he wants the people he loves to love him back -- he wants them to want him to stick around.

So he pays attention. He misses stuff sometimes, sure… but Willie’s mission in his afterlife is simple. Chill out, do whatever he wants to do -- it’s not like he can get caught; he’s invisible. Just don’t get on Caleb Covington’s bad side.

Love whoever he still can, and be loved back.

Willie loves Alex. He’s loved him since the museum. He’s needed him since he ran into him on the street with his skateboard. But lately, Willie’s started to realize that he might also love Luke. Not any more or less than he loves Alex, which is a confusing problem in itself. And not really in a different way than Alex, either. His heart does somersaults when he’s around Luke now, too.

He might need him in different ways than Alex, though. Alex calms him down, grounds him when his head’s in the clouds or he’s too distracted by other things. He brings him back, makes him aware of what’s most important in the moment. He makes him laugh. Makes him think. Makes him stop and appreciate everything around him, instead of just whipping through his afterlife with no concerns. Alex makes him care.

But Luke… With Luke, it feels like he’s stuck upside-down at the top of a roller coaster, but there’s no one else he’d rather be stuck with. He feels more dangerous with Luke, willing to do things that he’s too scared to drag Alex into. He feels like there’s no limits. In one of Luke’s songs, he wrote face first, full charge, and that’s the exact energy he brings when he’s around Willie -- when he’s around anyone, really. He’s passionate, and driven, and so unafraid. Willie doesn’t have to be as careful around Luke.

And they’re both super protective of Alex.

Willie needs Alex for the slow rollercoaster ride to the top of the hill, and he needs Luke for laughter, for thrill, for excitement. For the thrilling, twisty way back down.

Willie’s not sure that anything feels complete without Alex and Luke.

So, since they’re both a part of Willie in ways that he can’t even really explain, Willie watches. He pays attention to both of them, taking in everything about them in quiet, soft, subtle ways.

That’s how he starts to notice that something’s off with Luke.

~

A week goes by, the pages in Luke’s notebook are dwindling, and he still has no idea what his unfinished business is.

It’s frustrating, having to narrow his entire life down to one possible milestone he’s never gotten to achieve. There are far too many. And the nagging voice in the back of Luke’s head -- the one telling him that Alex and Reggie have just as many milestones -- isn’t helping matters at all.

Luke just wants all this to be over. He deserves it -- he’s not sure whether he deserves the questionable peace crossing over would bring; everyone always says death is peaceful, anyway. But he definitely deserves the “no longer existing” part. And Alex and Reggie do deserve it. They deserve everything that life -- or afterlife, really -- can still offer them. Luke’s tired of holding them back. It feels like nothing’s ever good enough -- like he’s wearing shoes made out of lead, or something, trying to walk across a desert, and he’s got a time limit to get there. And Alex and Reggie are chained to him -- stuck in the same predicament, because they just had to follow him to that hot dog stand. He’s tired of getting them into these messes. First death; and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, into the Hollywood Ghost Club with Caleb Covington, all because he just couldn’t let his grudge against Bobby -- Trevor Wilson -- die.

He’s still writing music, but his lyrics aren’t as powerful anymore. They’re not as confident, not as inspiring. And he writes with Julie, but he thinks Julie can tell that his spark has dimmed.

He hopes that she thinks he’s just going through writer’s block, or something. Something fixable.

He’s been working on his list for the past week, too. He thinks he’s got his unfinished business pretty much narrowed down; there’s three things on his list he wants to try. School. Bass. Emily.

He needs Reggie’s help with the bass one, so he’s been putting it off. And Emily…

Luke has tried to steer clear of his old house since Julie gave his parents the song. Because… the fact that it didn’t help, that it didn’t ease the ache in his heart in exactly the way Julie hoped that it would, made Luke feel guilty. And he doesn’t really want to see if the song made a difference for his parents. Because what if it didn’t?

What if they’re like Luke, just wishing for more? More interaction that they can never have -- an actual conversation about the regrets that he touched on in the song? A physical hug, the weight of their arms around each other, a look of real, actual understanding in their eyes that Luke’s never thought he would actually see.

And the thing is… if his parents are Luke’s unfinished business, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?

The prospect of being chained to the Earth forever because of something he’d screwed up beyond repair when he was alive has his stomach churning, almost as badly as it was when he’d eaten that hot dog.

The easiest one for Luke to focus on is school -- which, if someone had said to him twenty-five years ago that school would be at the top of his priority list, he’d have laughed in their face -- and the easiest way for him to do it is through Julie.

Julie’s sufficiently banned him from actually showing up at her school, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do other things. Like homework and studying. So Luke’s plan is this: he’ll study with Julie, maybe convince her to let him do a couple of her homework assignments. And if she aces her next math test because of the work they’ve done together, Luke’ll consider it a win.

It’s the best option he has. It’s not like he can sit in a classroom anymore, or take his own tests.

He sneaks up on her one afternoon as she’s sitting in her bedroom, chewing on a pencil, face scrunched in confusion.

“Hey, Jules. Whatcha doin?”

At the sound of his voice, Julie looks up at him and her confusion transforms into a smile. “Hey, Luke! Just homework.”

“Need any help?” He shuffles a little closer to the bed, mindful of Julie’s distaste for having the boys in her room.

Julie’s face flips back to confusion like a lightswitch. “You… want to help me with my homework?”

“Yeah!” Luke huffs out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… was curious, I guess. About what you’re learning in school.”

“Why?”

“You know, I never finished high school!” Luke says. “I’ve kind of always wondered what it would’ve been like if I had. Y’know, walking across a stage in that dumb cap and gown. Um -- accomplishing something. Being able to finish something important!”

He’s saying too much -- he knows by the way Julie’s expression shifts, confusion into curiosity into concern.

“Hey, wait,” she says, placing her pencil down and closing her textbook. “Are you okay? Is there something you want to talk about, Luke?”

“What? No! I’m fine!”

He hates the way his voice comes out, rough and high-pitched and decidedly not fine. Julie looks like she’s about to argue, so he opens his dumb, not-fine, impulsive mouth once again. “Seriously, Jules. I’m good. Gotta go meet the boys now, see ya!”

He poofs away, but he can still see Julie’s worried stare still fixed on him behind his eyelids.

~

“Don’t you think he’s been acting kinda strange?”

Willie is sitting in the garage, Reggie on the couch to his right and Alex behind him, braiding his hair like he does when he gets nervous.

And he’s trying to console Alex, to tell him to relax, that they’ll make sure Luke is fine -- only the confidence that Willie’s normally so famous for is dwindling.

Alex is worried about Luke, and Willie would love to reassure him, except that Willie thinks that Alex has a point. Luke has been acting strange lately; way too over the top during rehearsals, more trips to see his mom than usual -- trips that he thinks they don’t know about -- plus, he’s been reading books.

Julie’s school books, which he takes out of her room sometimes and stashes up on top of the loft. Books that Alex found there earlier that day, when he was looking for his drumsticks. Books that Alex had asked Willie about… and they’d both determined that it was Luke who had brought them up there, because Reggie wouldn’t hide the fact that he was teaching himself Trigonometry, and Luke’s been acting really weird as it is.

“You said he’s doing math?” Reggie asks, eyes wide. Willie figures Reggie must know just as well as he does -- if not better -- what Luke doing math could mean: that he’s not acting like himself.

“Yes!” Willie flails, waving his arms wildly -- to make a point -- and knocking into his boyfriend, who flinches back, tugging on Willie’s hair in the process.

“Ow!”

“Well you didn’t have to jump like that!” Alex hisses back. “Stop moving. I’m trying to stress-braid.”

“Sorry, Alex,” Willie sighs, straightening himself on the sofa. Sometimes, Alex just needs to stress-braid his hair. It gives him something to do with his hands; it’s a way for him to occupy his mind -- to focus on things other than the anxiety. And Willie’s usually all too happy to provide that service (what feels better than having your hair braided, especially by a boy you love?)

“Do you think he’s okay?” Alex mumbles, fingers once again fumbling through Willie’s hair in his unpracticed, clumsy way.

“Why don’t you guys just talk to him?” Reggie asks. “D’you have any idea what could be wrong?”

“No,” Willie huffs. “He’s just been acting so weird. I know it’s something. He’s doing stuff that he’s never cared about before -- like math. But also just… the stuff he normally loves, music. He’s… acting like it’s gonna be taken away from him, or something. Haven’t you noticed how hard he’s pushing you guys in band practice?”

“He’s acting like… like we’re running out of time,” Alex realizes. “But why?”

Just then, the boy in question poofs into the garage -- like he was rushing to get there; his landing’s not clean, and he stumbles around for a moment before catching himself on one of the microphone stands. He straightens up and sees that he has an audience.

“Hey -- hey, guys,” he stammers. “What’s up? We gonna practice?”

His eyes fix on Reggie, then, and he perks up. “Oh! Reg! I’ve been meaning to ask you -- can you teach me how to play the bass?”

“Can I--” Reggie stops, stares at Luke for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

Alex, though, right in front of Willie behind the sofa, looks like he’s already figured it out. He blinks at Luke. “You want to learn how to play bass?”

“I always have,” Luke shrugs. Alex studies him, and Luke twitches under his gaze.

“I just thought it would be cool, ya know, to know all our instruments. So can you teach me, Reg?”

“Um -- I --” Reggie’s eyes dart between Alex, Willie, and Luke, probably trying to figure out what the right thing to say is. Willie doesn’t know, exactly, but he knows one thing for sure: there’s no way Luke’s sudden interest in learning the bass is a coincidence.

Alex seems to be on the same page, but unlike Willie, he’s more inclined to take charge, to do something about it. “Reg, can we talk to Luke alone for a minute?”

“Yes,” Reggie lets out a sigh of relief and poofs away, leaving Willie and Alex to deal with… whatever this is. Willie still isn’t totally sure.

He’s once again enormously grateful for Alex, and the fact that his boyfriend has a pretty good handle on what’s going on in the world seventy-five percent of the time. Because it shocks Willie just as much as it does Luke when Alex says, “Why are you trying to cross over?”

What?

Willie hasn’t put the pieces together nearly as well as Alex has -- in fact, he feels like they’ve been working on entirely different puzzles. Why would Luke be trying to cross over? Why would he want to leave all the guys, and Julie, behind forever?

He wouldn’t. It doesn’t make sense.

Except the second the words leave Alex’s mouth, Luke freezes, eyes wide like he’s been tossed into the path of an oncoming train, shoes welded to its tracks.

And Willie starts to think that maybe his boyfriend wasn’t so far off the mark, after all.

~

“There are people who love you, you know.”

Luke blinks up at Alex, still frozen, still thrown for a loop, still… not understanding how Alex figured him out.

“How do you think we’d feel if you crossed over?” Alex continues, his intense gaze still fixed on Luke, Luke squirming uncomfortably underneath it. “Without us? Is that… is that something you want?”

Alex’s voice finally cracks, betraying the emotion underneath it, and it’s almost too much for Luke to take. His wild eyes dart around the studio, looking for something -- anything -- to focus on, to take him out of the moment… and he finds the string lights, hung across the walls and the ceilings. He starts counting the bulbs, reciting the numbers in his head. He only makes it to seven before Willie’s voice breaks his concentration.

“Luke?”

“How… how did you know that’s what I was trying to do?” Luke mumbles.

“Well… the math’s what clued me in,” Willie lets out a half-hearted laugh as Alex takes slow steps around the sofa and sits down.

“Come here,” he calls out to Luke -- and although every bone in Luke’s body is screaming run, get out, get far, far away from this conversation… he finds himself joining them, sitting down in the spot on the couch they’ve made in between them.

“We just want you to know there are people who love you,” Willie says. “People -- people who need you, Luke. You can’t leave us, okay? You can’t cross over. Not without us.”

“But you -- you guys and Reggie and Julie -- you don’t need me.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asks. “Of course we--”

“You and Reg would still be alive if it weren’t for me,” Luke growls. “So don’t say you need me. All I do is mess everything up. You guys, our careers, my parents…”

“Hang on, Luke,” Alex reaches a hand out, momentarily caught off guard. Luke doesn’t see why; it’s not like what he said was that complicated. He’s messed up. He breaks things. He ruined his parents’ lives by running away. He almost ruined Julie’s life, by getting involved with Caleb. And -- and Alex and Reggie…

“None of that’s your fault,” Alex says with conviction.

“Alex--”

“No!” Alex gets up, suddenly, and starts to pace around the room, fingers digging through his hair. “You have to know that. We don’t blame you for any of that!”

“Luke, Alex is right,” Willie reaches a hand out, cautiously, and takes one of Luke’s. When Luke doesn’t pull away, Willie pulls him even closer, into his chest, and starts gently running his fingers through Luke’s hair.

Luke sinks into Willie’s chest, eyes following Alex’s nervous pacing -- he’s biting his lip, and his hands are shaking slightly. Luke hadn’t realized that it might be hard on Alex, too, dealing with Luke’s current mental spiral.

He pulls away from Willie, ignoring the other boy’s whine of protest, and sits up to face Alex. “Hey, Alex,” he calls out quietly. “Come back and sit down. I’m-- I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me. Just… take deep breaths, okay?”

“Are you seriously trying to calm me down right now?” Alex snaps. A flash of hurt crosses Luke’s face -- one that he must not be quick enough to hide, because Alex’s own face softens at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Luke… I--”

“Just come back here and hold me, please,” Luke croaks.

Luke… doesn’t cry much, if he can help it. He hates tears, both his own and other people’s, and generally tries to avoid them at all costs. But… the look on Alex’s face, the tone of his voice -- his scared, anxious, desperate voice as he snapped at Luke for trying to calm him down -- has the dam breaking, finally, and the tears are bursting out of Luke’s eyes and running down his face before he even knows what’s happening, running down and soaking into the collar of his flannel shirt.

At the sight of Luke’s tears, Alex startles, and makes a beeline for his side. Luke is thrown into a group hug, Alex and Willie on either side of him.

And he just lets himself cry.

~

It takes a while, but finally Luke calms down a bit.

He stays on the couch, sandwiched in between two of his favorite people on the planet. Willie’s hands are still running gently through his hair; Alex’s thumb is rubbing small circles on his wrist.

His tears have finally stopped, but there’s this annoying, puffy ache in his head and behind his eyes that feels like it’s going to linger for a while.

It’s quiet, and the quiet allows Luke to think about everything that’s happened that day -- after weeks of his stupid, ill-advised mission to complete his unfinished business, he’s been found out.

And he found out that people -- Alex and Willie, who are love and sunshine and light and everything beautiful about the world personified -- would actually miss him if he was gone. That people care, that they don’t blame him for the stuff that he’s been blaming himself for for months.

It’s… a lot to wrap his head around, and even though the tears have stopped, the uncertainty and anxiety and desire to not be a burden is still swirling around in his head, leaving him silent and still as he sits there in between Alex and Willie, his head now resting on Willie’s shoulder.

He knows that those feelings, like the ache he feels in his heart and his head, will probably be around a while.

“I’m sorry for making you worry ‘bout me,” he mumbles, burrowing his face even deeper into Willie’s loose-fitting sweatshirt. Willie’s arms wrap around him and hold him there, and Luke takes in a deep, slow breath, inhaling Willie’s musky scent, shutting his eyes in the first moment of contentment he’s felt in weeks.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Alex whispers. “None of it’s your fault. There are people who love you. We…”

He stops, and Luke turns his head as much as Willie’s grip will allow to try to see why. He’s able to just peek at Alex out of the corner of his eye, and he sees that the other boy’s frowning. Like he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. Like he’s nervous.

“Alex?” Luke struggles out of Willie’s grip, and reluctantly, the other boy lets him go. He shuffles to the other side of the sofa, closer to Alex, and the drummer opens his arms for Luke willingly.

Being in Alex’s arms is different than being in Willie’s, too. Alex is sturdier; less teddy-bear like than Willie is, but comforting and warm and inviting all the same. Alex’s arms feel like home just as much as Willie’s do, and Luke melts into the hug instantly, like an ice cream cone on the hot pavement in July. Alex’s hand runs up and down Luke’s back and Luke shivers, eyes threatening to slip closed despite his need to hear Alex’s answer.

“Willie and I love you, Luke,” Alex says softly. There’s no more uncertainty -- a hint of nervousness, but Luke doesn’t doubt what Alex is saying for a second. There’s a conviction in his tone -- a confidence -- that Alex only really uses when talking about people he loves. This… defensiveness, this love, this conviction.

“We don’t have to figure everything out now,” Alex continues -- probably realizing Luke’s been through enough that day. Luke appreciates that, actually. There’s only one answer he would ever give to Alex and Willie -- only one thing his heart’s ever wanted; Luke can see it now, now that the sound of his heartbeat is pulsing in his ears, now that he feels like he’s both standing on the edge of a mountain, about to take a leap of faith into the crisp winter air below -- and at the same time, on solid ground, in no danger of falling, of stumbling, of getting hurt. He feels safe and exhilarated all at the same time, and this feeling is both familiar and completely new, more amplified than it usually is. Not what he’s used to.

But Luke feels like he’s ready to take the leap now. He still feels guilty, still isn’t actually sure whether his friends -- his family -- would be better off without him. But Alex and Willie have never steered him wrong before.

When he’s sitting in between them, their arms around him and their warm, soft hands running through his hair… Luke feels like maybe he can get through anything.

[inkribbon796]

Lost in a Lightning Storm Ch. 2: Far from Home

Summary: You shouldn’t talk about people, and not expect them to find out.

Chapters: 1, 2

While Henrik and Anti were talking to Tubbo and Logan, and then subsequently went off to Nate’s house to do some research, Mare went to go find Anti.

Anti was cackling with the Duke on some rooftop, who had escaped arrest after the chaos he had created. The two chaos-loving criminals were laughing and joking.

“Anti! Your boyfriend is getting too brave, you gotta[1] do something!” Mare said as he leaned over a massive air conditioning unit to get into the glitch’s face. Anti was lying on his back on the rooftop.

“Ooooooohhh~ You have a boyfriend?” Remus gave a huge smile, turning on his stomach and kicking his feet up like they were a bunch of pre-teens at a slumber party. “And you didn’t tell your best friend? For shame.”

“Shut up,” Anti kicked him in the face. Then he turned back to Mare. “I don’t got[2] a boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, then what the hell is he?” Mare bit back.

“None ‘a yer fookin’ business,”[3] Anti spat back.

“M’kay,[4] whatever,” Mare rolled his eyes. “Point is, he’s trying to find you.”

“I’m right here, let ‘im[5],” Anti scoffed, still lying on the ground.

“No, the old you, the human one,” Mare warned.

“Why?” Anti spat.

“I don’t know, humans are dumb,” Mare spat. “He’s your problem, you deal with him.”

“Fook[6] you!” Anti spat and stormed off.

Directly after he stormed off, he realized that he hadn’t asked Mare where Henrik was. But it was too late to storm off. Mostly because he overheard Remus trying to weedle information out of Mare. Anti was too in his own head to admit to even himself that he was embarrassed.

So he went out to find Henrik. Except he wasn’t at the hospital . . . and Logan didn’t seem to know where he was. He wasn’t at the hospital either so Anti ran around for a little bit and found them in Nate’s house.

For a couple moments, Anti debated on how upset Mare would be if he barged into his territory. Then he figured that if Mare didn’t want him to trespass, he shouldn’t have told him to take care of Henrik . . . and Anti had been in Nate’s house before on multiple occasions.

So Anti tripped about three alarms to get into the house and Nate and Henrik watched him stroll right into the living room where they were.

“Don’t yeh[7] two know not ta[8] talk about someone behind their back?” Anti layered on the glitching and blood as much as he could.

“You are certainly getting better at zat[9] effect,” Henrik complimented.

“You bleed on my carpet and I will stab you with a soul splitter,” Nate threatened.

Anti pulled out his knife, completely offended that they weren’t screaming in terror.

Nate helped up a stake, the wood was etched with runes and spell writing. “Anti, I don’t want to explain to the rest of your friends why you’re in pieces.”

“Why the fook are yeh diggin’ inta my personal shite?”[10] Anti demanded.

“Because zer is much I do not know about you, und I vish to correct zat,”[11] Henrik told him, Nate was on his computer, still looking through old census records and newspaper reports.

“I’m right the fook[6] here,” Anti spat.

“I cannot recall a time ven ve have ever talked about any’zing,”[12] Henrik told Anti pointedly.

Anti glared at him, his nose scrunched up like the demon was about to pull his lips back in a snarl. “Why, though? No point in lookin’[13] fer[14] a dead man.”

Henrik stood up, really studying Anti’s expression, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Anti sputtered for a moment, “I don’t care.”

“I am serious Anti, if all zis[15] investigation makes you uncomfortable or vas[16] a traumatic experience, I vill[17] stop.”

A myriad of uncomfortable feelings, that Anti refused to unpack or acknowledge, prickled under his skin and boiled his blood. He absolutely refused to be afraid of some past specter he could barely remember. Anti was better than some human who’s only contribution to the world had been dying so that Anti could be brought into the world.

So instead Anti just scoffed, some derisive, forced laugh, “Whate’er yeh two arses wanna dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor ‘a dyin’, go ahead. Here, I’ll e’en help.”[18]

Henrik watched for any sign that Anti was joking or would destroy Nate’s computer. “If you are certain.”

“Oh yeah,” Anti dismissed. “What did yeh shitebags find?”[19]

“Well,” Nate stalled as he watched Anti walk over, he stayed braced with his stake. “Don’t break my stuff.”

“I won’t,” Anti smiled. “Come on, we got some loser ta[8] find.”

“That “loser” is also a past version of you,” Nate pointedly reminded.

“Watch it, meatbag,” Anti warned. “If he wanted ta[8] stay alive, he shouldn’ta[20] died.”

“Eloquent,” Henrik commented.

“Shut,” Anti hissed back.

“Do you remember your country of origin?” Nate asked. “I’ve got several different deaths from lightning storms and factory accidents from the past 150—”

“I ne’er[21] worked in a factory,” Anti huffed, before mentally stalling because he couldn’t remember how he knew that, just that he did.

“Really?” Nate commented without even blinking. “That helps narrow it down. Means you only could have died from lightning if you’re as old as Mare says you are.”

“Mare needs ta[8] learn ta[8] keep his trap shut,” Anti scoffed.

“You were right there when he told me that, and you didn’t say anything,” Nate reminded.

Anti looked away from him, “I don’t remember this, it didn’t happen.”

“Anyways, do you remember where you came from?” Nate turned back to his computer. “I know the Septics first met you in Ireland, but are you from there too?”

“Been ta a lot ‘a places,”[22] Anti shrugged. “How am I supposed ta[8] know?”

“Well it vould[23] make it easier,” Henrik reminded.

Anti rolled his eyes, “I woke up in Australia. I hitched a ride on several hosts until I got ta[8] Ireland. I don’t know if I died there, my first ten years were a blur.”

“You are Australian?” Henrik was staring at Anti.

“No.” Hunching his shoulders up defensively, Anti glared at the doctor, “Maybe? I can’t remember. What’s it ta[8] yah[7]?”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” Henrik rushed to say. “I just . . . it is a good thing.”

Nate and Anti just stared at him, neither of them sure which direction to take that comment, but Henrik wasn’t looking Anti in the eyes anymore. He was glancing at Anti though, a lot.

But with a country narrowed down, Nate was able to eliminate several different possible candidates. Until there were five people left, four men and one woman. Mostly because it wasn’t unheard of for gender changes to occur when a human became a demon.

“Okay,” Nate said. “We have: Caleb Carson, Hannah Laverty, Brendan O’Heyne, Angus Collins, and Joe Morrin. Does anyone sound familiar, I don’t see any pictures so . . .”

Anti’s brain felt clouded, like there was something wrong but he couldn’t place it. He felt the urge to stab something and run. Like he was in danger.

“Anti? Are you alright?” Henrik asked, there was a look on Anti’s face that the German doctor hadn’t seen on him before.

Anti’s attention drifted towards one of the names in particular. He had no memories left of that person.

Much of that person was gone now, eroded away by time, but snippets remained. Being arrested for something . . . feeling disgusting inside afterwards . . .

. . . Feeling sick as the boat wouldn’t stop shaking the world around him . . .

. . . The heat of the sun burning his skin, almost hot as the anger that burned inside of him . . .

. . . And then a deafening CRACK as he felt like his body was exploding with pain. And how they’d just . . .

“They left me there,” Anti remembered, his form glitching erratically. “They left my fookin’[24] corpse ta[8] rot!”

“Anti‽” Henrik called out but the two humans watched Anti violently shatter apart in a discorporation.

Nate surged up immediately and took out an amulet necklace. One he had once’s a while ago to safely carry Mare around. But he used his magic to scoop up as much of Anti’s aura as possible to keep him from fracturing.

“Vat[25] happened?” Henrik demanded.

“He must have remembered something,” Nate tried to calm Henrik down as he was casting spells to see how violent the discorporation was, “I don’t think it was a good thing.”

Henrik snatched the necklace away, looking at it. “Vill[17] he be alright?”

“He still seems to be in one piece, but it might take a while for him to reform,” Nate warned.

“I zink ve should stop,”[26] Henrik looked over at Nate’s laptop. “If I had known his reaction vould have been zis violent I vould have stopped ven he confronted us.”[27]

“Yeah,” Nate agreed and watched Henrik put the necklace on. “Be careful with him, an injured demon’s a more dangerous one.”

“I vill[17],” Henrik promised, and gathered up his stuff with a stiff thank you for Nate’s help and the doctor went over to his apartment with the necklace. Anti took a couple of days to reform, but he didn’t talk to Henrik. The demon would escape the necklace and then slip back in whenever Henrik was distracted or busy.

After almost a week since the incident at Nate’s house, Henrik decided that, if Anti wasn’t going to talk to him, Henrik would talk to Anti. He started out small, complaining about the coffee machine at the hospital, about how muggy the weather was.

Then, one night, while Henrik was sitting on his couch, watching some TV show, or at least had it on in the background while he was staring down at the necklace in his hands, the doctor decided to be a bit more blunt. He watched the gem, saw almost like glitchy lightning crackling underneath the surface. “I must admit, part of ze[28] reason I went digging vas[16] to get a reaction out of you.”

There was a pause to the energy in the necklace. But after a bit the glitched lightning continued as if nothing had happened.

“If you do not vant to talk about zis matter, I vill not force you,”[29] Henrik told him. “But I had hoped to get a violent reaction out of you, not to actually harm you. For zat[9] I am sorry.”

Anti’s aura shot out of the necklace was just staring at Henrik. “Why was that what yeh were goin’ fer?”[30]

“You have tried to kill me und[31] my friends many times, und[31] I vanted[32] to get you to attack me,” Henrik admitted.

“Why?” Anti scoffed, plopping down on Henrik’s couch. “If I wanted yeh[7] dead, I would’a[33] done it already.”

He took glared at him. “Zat[9] is exactly the problem, you have zis[15] odd stalking infatuation but you have tried to kill me in the past. Not to mention you utterly ruined Average’s marriage und[31] his ability to visit his children.”

“The fooker was gettin’ cucked an’ e’eryone knew it,”[34] Anti dismissed.

“She vas doin’ no’zing of ze sort,”[35] Henrik defended heatedly.

Anti looked away angrily.

The two sat in angry silence for a little while, before Henrik sighed, taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose before carefully putting them back on. “Anti, vat do you vant out of zese interactions ve have?”[36]

The glitch demon decided he would rather talk about literally anything else, but his only other option was talking about his former human life and he wasn’t sure which made him look worse. “I like it when yeh[7] get angry at me.”

“Is it simply ze[28] anger or ze[28] attention?” Henrik asked, genuinely trying to understand.

Anti still wasn’t looking at him, deciding that he’d rather take the human talk. “My name used ta[8] be somethin’[37] else.”

“Vich[38] do you prefer?” Henrik asked.

“Anti,” Anti told him hesitantly.

“Zen[39] you are Anti,” Henrik agreed. “As you said, zat[9] man is dead, und[31] you are here.”

Something in Anti’s chest tightened, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like even the reminder that he was human. But he started leaning over towards Henrik. It was just a little bit of a lean, not enough to even get near Henrik. So the doctor closed the distance for him, lightly resting his shoulder against Anti’s.

“I zink zat you like the attention, vich I am more zen happy to give to you,”[40] Henrik smiled at him as Anti still refused to hold eye contact with him. “Und ven you know vat you vant, you can tell me in your own time.”[41]

For the rest of the night the two of them sat in almost near silence. Anti wasn’t ready to admit anything, but still tantalizingly close all the same. Anti getting closer and close to Henrik until the doctor was pressed up against the side of the couch and Anti was leaning against him. Anti sat next to Henrik as the doctor just ran his fingers through his hair. Anymore and Anti would have started hissing and pulling away. But as he leaned into the touch the glitch decided that he liked this attention.

Henrik occasionally looked over at Anti, smiling at him.

And if, as he scratched his fingers across his scalp, heard him give out very quiet purring sounds, the doctor decided not to tease the glitch demon about them . . . at least not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: Anti in his AU used to be a man by the name of Angus (Jack’s “survivalist” character he made super early in his channel and in this AU Angus was arrested and sent to Australia where he subsequently died from a freak lightning storm, and then cue villain arc.

Side note: Henrik likes Anti’s Australian accent, he likes it a lot! No I will not back down from this extremely unpopular headcanon.

Accessibility Translations:

1. have to

2. have

3. None of your fucking business

4. Okay

5. him

6. Fuck

7. you

8. to

9. that

10. Why the fuck are you digging into my personal shit?

11. Because there is much I don’t know about you, and I wish to correct that

12. I can’t recall a time when we have ever talked about anything

13. looking

14. for

15. this

16. was

17. will

18. Whatever you two assholes want to dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor of dying, go ahead. Here, I’ll even help.

19. What did you shitbags find?

20. shouldn’t have

21. never

22. I’ve been to a lot of places

23. would

24. fucking

25. What

26. I think we should stop

27. If I had known his reaction would have been this violent I would have stopped when he confronted us.

28. the

29. If you do not want to talk about this matter, I will not force you

30. Why was that what you were going for?

31. and

32. wanted

33. would have

34. The fucker was getting cucked and everyone knew it

35. She was doing nothing of the sort

36. Anti, what do you want out of these interactions we have?

37: something

38. which

39. then

40. I think that you like the attention, which I am more then happy to give to you

41. And when you know what you want, you can tell me in your own time.

[sloppy-butcher]

Can I request some fucking happiness like GODDAMN IM SO SAD

coming right up my friend. happiness in the form of cuddling with randomly selected killers and survivors to be listed below (sorry if it's short, I tried something different for this request) don’t be sad anyMORE <3

Seeking Comfort

The Doctor (Herman Carter)

He notices immediately when you slosh into his office after a long day of battling difficulties, shoulders hunched over, and demeanor sour, bringing with you a most depressing mood. He passes a cool eye over your shrinking form as you slowly make your way to the small bench that served as your designated station. Suddenly he calls you over, producing a sound somewhere between a cough and laugh, causing you to look up at him in confusion. Herman pushes back his laze boy from his work table, presenting his empty lap to you. Your questioning gaze flickers between the man and his offer and after only a few more encouraging nods, you crawl your way over to him. Never had he initiated affection like this, almost demanding you to be in his arms. He consumes you completely in his body, swallowing you up in his off-white lab coat and bare arms. The electrodes that protrude out his forearms would spark occasionally and tickle you until your face lightens and a smile somewhat returns. You knew it was secretly Herman himself sending you the fuzzy reminds of energy  In between reading documents and writing down his new observations, Herman often places his head on top of yours, humming and kissing your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

The Hag (Lisa Sherwood)

Lisa tries her absolute damnedest to make you leave her realm with a smile on your face. Though she can't talk and her hugs are not the warmest and her lips aren’t the best for giving kisses, she displays her affection in other manners. She beckons you over to her crouched in the swamp. She takes your hand in hers and with the faintest and gentlest movements, barely even gracing your skin, uses her elongated claw to draw small symbols on your arm with the help of fresh, black mud. You tilt your head and ask her what they mean. She gives you her best smile, a stretched-out display of all her twisted and razor-sharp teeth, and places her unaltered hand over your heart. You can see her sway her head with the ticking of your heartbeat and you realize that it was a spell of protection and repair - or rather a spell for a sad heart. Lisa makes you spend the rest of your time together searching the swamp for fireflies, a rarity in her realm but a blessing none the less. She follows you around carrying with her a dirty glass jar and whenever you managed to catch a handful of the elusive bugs, she’d make you put them inside until the glass glowed a brilliant yellow hue. At the end of the evening, when the darkness that previously sat on your chest has alleviated slightly, Lisa offers you one last gift. She asks you to lean down to her comfortable height and then places her forehead to yours. You hear her breathing steady and become as sure as the sun will rise and the night will end and you know that everything will be alright when she is around.

The Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn)

“Drink up.” Caleb slides you a hefty glass practically overflowing with burning, brown liquid. “That’ll put all yer troubles in the ground for sure.” Wearily, you try to lift the glass to your lips and embrace the blissful effects of the strong alcohol but instead, your hand starts to shake and you get hit with another wave of perpetual exhaustion. The glass clatters to the bar table with a thud and the liquid splashes everywhere. You apologize profusely to the man as tears threaten to envelop your vision. Caleb sighs and moves around the table to your side. You feel his hand place itself gently on your back - a small gesture of comfort and one you clung onto for dear life. “Ay see it’s gonna take an even stronger type of liquor to fix that troubled heart of yours.” You hear him shuffle but could not bear to lift your eyes from the cover of your hands. Something tickles your right ear and suddenly you sense him begin to pepper kisses along your cheekbone. When Caleb notices that he has your attention, his kisses deepen and he starts making obnoxious smooching noises. You couldn’t help but smile and try to pull away from the mocking man, succumbing to his game and forgetting all your worries in the shine of his love. He continues his rampage of wrecking your face with wet, sloppy kisses until you were begging for him to stop. You were laughing, the tears from before having dried up. Caleb smiles, his damaged cheek hurting from the strain. But when he sees how you look at him with happiness returned in your face, he deems it all worth it.

Meg Thomas

Meg sighs and you feel her chest compress and her head lean down to your ear level, her arms sneaking to your sides where she found warmth and structure. Since the first second she saw that slight downwards twinge of your mouth, Meg had not left your side. Right now she had positioned herself to be sitting on the log directly behind you while together you sat facing the campfire. She had her legs on either side of you, effectively making a sort of make-shift barrier between you, her, and the rest of the shitty world. You relax into her, allowing your head to fall back and land safely on her left chest. She retrieves one hand and delicately brushes hair out of your eyes. She was so kind and understanding, caring like a mother and passionate like an athlete. She was persistent even as the wall crumbled inwards and started to bury you in an impossible rumble, she was quickly there to offer you her hand. “It’s difficult.” Meg mumbles so quietly it was more directed towards herself than to anyone else. “It’s like an uphill battle and sometimes it feels like your legs are going to break and you’re not going to make it up.” You feel her hands start to shiver and you go to grasp them in your own. She stops and squeezes you, holding on like a falling child would a tree branch. “But we must keep trying.” You open your eyes again to see her lovingly looking down at you - she was so angelic bathed in the golden firelight. She lowers her face and gives your nose a quick peck. She smells like roses and fresh body wash. Meg smiles and you were infected with her hopefulness, blooming in your chest in the forms of happiness and love.

Ashley J. Williams 

 “What's up, doll-face?” Ash asks as he slides into the seat next to yours. You hurriedly suck back a cry and turn your head away from him, trying and failing to hide your miserable expression. He waits a moment, eyes dancing up and down your shivering body before he exhales audibly. “Rough day, huh?” His comment was rhetorical - it was obvious that you were upset. He runs a hand through his graying hair. He pauses and thinks for a second, a task that he never normally is one to partake in. He goes to speak but stops - no that sounds stupid. Well, what about - no that's insensitive. Again and again, his brain produced and sabotaged all possibilities he had to try and make you feel better. He just wanted to make you stop crying. Ash is very unpracticed in the field of comfort. Yet seeing you so broken, so unlike how wonderful and lively you usually were, pained him more than the awkwardness did. He contemplates another option hen suddenly he feels a small tug at his shirt. Looking over he sees you pleading for him to take you in. His heart jitters slightly but does not stop him from shuffling closer to you and offering you his arm. You grateful wrap yourself around him and soon stuff your nose into his side.  Ash’s metal hand rubs smalls circles on your back and you wonder why he was not always this hug-able. “Don’t get too comfortable, kid. This is a once-off thing.” Though your heart ached from problems unimaginable, his simple abruptness tinged with undertones of sympathy, was enough of a rude-awakening to remind you that you were alive and that you always had him. 

[whumpqin]

Perfect the Way You Are

Next official chapter installment! This one was a little more difficult to write than I thought, but I pushed through and wrote it. This one’s kind of rough, heed the warnings!

Elisha tag! @faewhump @imagination1reality0

CW: Pet whump, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touching (non sexual), dehumanization, knifes, torture used as punishment, fantasy racism, victim blaming, mentions of abduction, mentions of broken bones, lotta icky language in here by the whumper

Word count: 2,243

The knife slid into his stomach, cool metal biting against his warm, inflamed skin. Elisha keened, swallowing thickly against the scream that threatened the escape from his lungs.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” the devil’s voice whispered above him. A constant reminder of the hell he was in. “Jeremiah was right about one thing, you do take pain well. You take everything so damn well. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that fiery head of yours that makes you so reserved.”

“Pl-please… it, it hurts…” A hand was placed on the side of his face, smearing his own blood against him. 

“Shh, I know, pet.” Aridai pulled the blade out, finally letting him breathe without worry of further injury. That’s what they had told him to do, breathe. “It’s supposed to hurt. Now… recite your rules for me while I work on this next bit.”

This was the worst day of his life.

He hadn’t expected it to get any better, of course. They had abducted him. People who do that generally don’t have good intentions. But, for the most part, they left him alone in the dark to either starve or go crazy from the lack of human interaction and stimulus.

Today, Aridai clearly had other intentions. They had wanted a “de-stress” session, and after Elisha had affirmed his false name and his new rules they had gotten right to work cutting off of his shirt and sinking that knife into wherever they felt necessary. Even with the permission to use his voice, no amount of begging aided him against Aridai’s cruelty. Everything went unheard and there was no mercy granted.

“O-one. My, my Masters should, hnnk! Should always be ah, ad-addressed as Ma-Master..!” Elisha’s voice cut off in a shrill cry, unable to keep quiet any longer as Aridai’s knife dipped into his skin again. Terrified tears slipped from the corners of his eyes freely.

Elisha was humiliated at first when he was exposed. Embarrassed that someone else saw his thin frame besides the plants that sat next to his mirror back home. He had always been a private person, and this was just a violation of the boundaries he had put in place for a reason.

It was clear that Aridai had no boundaries. None besides the rules they set for everyone but themselves; a free spirit that rose above the masses of normal folk. 

“Good boy. You’re being so good for me,” they said, pleasantly smiling as if Elisha couldn’t see the metaphorical horns peeking from underneath their cardboard halo. “Keep going, Caleb.”

Two, hnk!” He squeezed his eyes shut as a long draw of the knife cut across his chest, continuing the pattern that only Aridai could see the product of. Like he was some carving of theirs. “Nev-never, hh, question your, nn, m-my Masters.”

Aridai had been angry with him. Elisha’s fear was so intense that he couldn’t stop himself when he tried to squirm out of their grasp, thrashing his tail around in unspoken anxiety. It was hard not to be afraid of someone approaching you with a knife, especially when your hands were tied behind your back and you were chained to a wall.

They had dragged him to the ground and straddled him, effectively preventing him from being able to pull away anymore. Then, Elisha had to face their ire, and he quickly learned that the only thing worse than Aridai was their vicious temper.

“Th-three. Do wha-what I’m, hnn, told, regard… regardless of the- ah, consequences..!” He gazed up to Aridai, pleading, and they only watched him with satisfaction.

“Good. That’s one you’re still working on, isn’t it?” They asked, a light tilt to their head. “Do you feel bad for being mean to me?”

“Ye-yes..! Yes, I do, please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t pull away again, I won’t, I won’t..!” Bloodied hands found their way to his face again, this time with a thumb resting over his lips.

“No, you won’t, will you? You’ll learn to know better than to pull away from your Master. And you can stop that mumbling, now.” The thumb rubbed across his lips, gently, inviting for all the wrong reasons.

There was nothing that would provoke a Cambion’s instincts better than to wave a hand in front of their face. It was like asking them to bite you, an instinct whose origin was long forgotten to the old days. It was a lesson that Elisha remembered learning from his mother when he was young and naive and definitely not prepared for a world like this.

Everyone, who was smart, knew this. But most humans who knew well to avoid such things often spread rumors about the dangers of a Cambion’s bite. Elisha knew all it did was break the skin and draw blood, but everyone feared that their devilish nature would seep into them like a venom, tainting their bloodline and cursing their children. Like they were a wild animal.

What Aridai was doing was dangerous, but it was also a challenge. They were daring Elisha to bite, to go against his Master. They were waiting for another slip up.

Instead, Elisha shivered from the cold, wounds weeping blood as he stared up at them like an injured puppy. He merely swallowed, the only giveaway that he was thinking of anything at all, and made no move besides the occasional flick of his gaze as Aridai’s leg shifted. 

Finally, they smiled. “You’re so strange, Caleb. Though I guess that is the appeal.” Aridai’s hand withdrew and instead braced against his chest, preparing another series of cuts to complete their “carving”.

“Wha-what does..?” Elisha clamped his mouth shut, unsure if that was considered “questioning his Masters” or not. He didn’t want to chance it after he had already made them so angry.

“What? What was that? Did you say something to me?” Their gaze landed on Elisha, and he couldn’t tell if their expression was full of curiosity or fury. He couldn’t tell anything about them anymore. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I-I’m sorry, I ju-just…” Elisha’s gaze frantically searched for something so that he could give them an excuse, something that would make them less angry. But his mind was already burning from the pain, as he quickly realized that he was out of options when Aridai laid the knife on a portion of his skin. “I-I don’t, don’t know what-what you mean…”

“What I mean? Oh! You mean your appeal? What makes you so interesting?” When Elisha nodded nervously, they laughed. Aridai was always laughing for some reason or another. “Oh Caleb, don’t sell yourself so short. You were like a little diamond in the rough.” A pause, a little light flickering on in their head. “I’m gonna call you that now. But, anyway, just a moment.”

They carefully carved more sections into his skin, finishing their work. This next part was more quick than the others, and Elisha was able to take some strange comfort in that. When Aridai pulled away they took some fabric out of their pocket and pressed on his wounds, and he felt parts of his ribs shift in a way they definitely weren’t supposed to. He keened, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t allowed to.

“Had to finish before I lost the image in my head. Now we can have a chat. So! I guess… you’re asking why you of all the easy pickings of the world, huh?” They tilted their head as Elisha nodded with a whine. “Way to be nice to people, Caleb.” The guilt was immediate, and added a further tightness to his chest that he didn’t think possible. “Poor little diamond… so lost on why it won the lottery when it picked stupid numbers on purpose, huh?”

What does that even mean? Elisha’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Hm… Too ambiguous for you? Alright, lemme dumb it down for you.” Aridai learned close, uncomfortably so, to Elisha face. They used their free hand to brace themselves beside his head. “You were perfect, Caleb. You don’t even realize how long it took for us to find someone as perfect as you. No friends, no family, no one to look for you when you disappeared. When we were watching you, you seemed so much different than other Cambion. They tend to be the talk of the town, y’know? People notice when they leave, because they’re so damned relieved that they’re gone.. But you…” They shifted, removing their hand from the fabric to touch his face again. He resisted the instinct to pull away like he had stupidly done before. 

“Absolutely no one would miss you when you were gone, besides the people who would want money from you.”

Elisha swallowed, trying to not let the immense weight of Aridai’s words crush him.

“Now, I’ve met a fair amount of Cambion. They’re feisty creatures, and way too stubborn for their own good. But you’re different than your kind, Caleb. You’re tamed.” Aridai ruffled his hair, staining it with blood. “You’re so nice and reclusive. Not at all like all the other ones I’ve cut up before.”

A flicker of fear flashed in Elisha’s eyes as he fought to breathe. They had seen Cambion before? Did they kill them?

They tilted their head to the other side. “I guess… in thinking about why you were taken… I guess you were just perfect the way you were. You were practically begging to be taken.” Aridai finally leaned away, pulling the bloodied fabric from his chest. “Jeremiah said it was all an act. Fake, or something. But I can tell. You try too hard to be pretending. You actually think all that nice and kind bullshit makes a difference in the end..”

He felt sick. Elisha didn’t want to believe that what they were saying was right. It all felt wrong.

This wasn’t his fault. There was no way that they were looking for someone like him. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and they took him. 

Elisha had been trying to change. He had to believe that it was worth it.

“S-someone… they-they have to. Some-someone will look,” he argued quietly, voice wavering from tears unshed. “It’s, it’s the right thing to… to do.”

Aridai laughed again, plenty amused. “Who’s going to look for you, Caleb? Name someone for me.”

He tried to search his mind. His mother? No… he hadn’t talked to her in years. Elisha couldn’t remember the last time he talked to his neighbors… and the only person he carried a conversation with outside of plant life was the grocery clerk at his local store when he craved some sort of interaction from people.

“My, my landlord, sh-she’ll know I’m, I’m missing, she’ll call the, um, the police.” Elisha felt confident in that regard. The police took care of things. They found lost people and brought them home to their families.

“What do you think the police are going to do? Track you down, bring you back home? Let you live comfortably in your house again and lock up the poor, bad people who did this to you?” Aridai’s eyebrows upturned in mock pity. “I’ve been skating underneath their radar for years. They’ll give up after a month or so, and mark you down as another cold case that never gets solved. That is, if they give a Cambion like you the time of day.”

They moved, finally getting off of him and settling into a crouch next to them. Elisha tried to look away, he didn’t want to see their face anymore, but Aridai reached forward and forced their eyes to meet.

“If you had told anyone about yourself, then maybe. Maybe you would have a chance.” They grinned, sinister and cold. “Face it, Caleb. No one is going to look for you, because you’re a nobody. And you only have yourself to blame for that.”

The tears that threatened to fall finally made food on their claim. Elisha gasped, trying to force down the inner hurt that he felt, but he knew that bits floated to the surface. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but the taste wasn’t enough to get him to stop.

It felt like Aridai had cut them with broken bits of glass, mentally and physically. He wanted to curl up in a ball of shame but he couldn’t even move to get away, even if he was allowed to. Don’t break down in front of them. Don’t do it. Don’t show weakness.

For once, he agreed with his instincts.

It was a blessing when Aridai finally stood up. “I think I’m done here. This was really fun, Caleb. Maybe we’ll shape you up enough to participate, hm?” They let out another series of lighthearted chuckles, and the sound was like nails on a chalkboard. “I’ll send in Jeremiah to clean you up. Honestly…” Aridai held up both hands, which were covered in Elisha’s own blood. “We’re both a pretty mess.”

They quickly retrieved their implements, looking him over one last time, before ascending the stairs to the rest of the house. The top of the basement shut with a loud slam, and he caught the sound of a lock as it clicked into place.

In the dark, Elisha finally let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and felt the cracks underneath his skin that were beginning to show deepen.

[brooke0297]

Little Songbird Part 2: All I’ve Ever Known

Part 1 | Masterlist

Chapter song is "All I've Ever Known" from Hadestown the Musical. I encourage you to listen to it if you haven't before because it fits perfectly for Luke and Julie. Enjoy my loves!

Julie couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t all that surprising to her, given the events of the day. It wasn’t every day she took down an evil ghost intent on stealing her soul and destroying her band and best friends. But she definitely thought she would be exhausted from discovering she possessed a supernatural ability to love and break curses put on her by said evil ghost.

When her and the boys had exited the Hollywood Ghost Club, the euphoria they had felt overcame them. Reggie and Luke had whooped loudly and grabbed each other in a huge hug. Alex had bent over and braced his hands on his knees, breathing in and out slowly. Julie wanted to comfort him, but she was in the middle of a busy street in downtown LA and her legs were shaking so badly she was worried they would give out on her. She pulled out her airpods and placed them in her ears as Luke and Reggie turned to her.

“How did you do that?” Reggie demanded gleefully. “I mean, did you see how terrified Caleb was? And how cool was your whole ‘you’re gonna leave my family alone or else’ speech? You’re like a hero from an action movie!”

Before Julie could answer any of his questions, Alex stood up and blew out a huge breath.

“As big of a fan of Badass Julie I am, promise me you will never go after an evil ghost by yourself again huh? I didn’t think ghosts could have heart attacks until I heard ‘Julie’s with Caleb and needs help’.”

“Oh, you should probably call Flynn before she sends out a search party.” Reggie added, “She was pretty worried.”

As if summoned, Juile’s phone rang shrilly and she winced at the volume in her ears. Sure enough ‘ Flynn the Great’ flashed on her phone, along with the selfie they had taken before Julie’s garage party. She swiped the answer button on her phone.

“Hey Flynn-”

“HEY? That’s all you give me is HEY?! You send me a 911 text that you are with some psycho evil ghost who tried to steal your bandmates who I then had to hope were in the studio so I could tell them to rescue you and all I get is HEY?!”

Julie winced. Partly because Flynn was right and partly at the sheer volume of the call. The boys winced and Reggie gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry Flynn, I didn’t have time to call you or explain more.”

“Are you okay? You still have your soul right? Are the guys okay? You have a gig in three days and it would really suck if we have to reschedule so we can rescue the himbos again…”

Julie giggled.

“We’re all fine. I’ll um…” Julie glanced at the boys and saw them looking at her intently, waiting for her response.

She was suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up under her blankets, and sleep for the next three days.

“Flynn, is it okay if I call you later? I’m waiting for the bus and it’s...not a great time…”

Flynn paused and Julie prepared to explain everything. It wasn’t fair to leave Flynn hanging like she was. But she also didn’t want to have to go into details about evil ghosts and sudden superpowers over the phone and around other bus riders.

Flynn sighed gently in her ear.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Jules. Call me when you can or I’ll hunt you down…”

A rush of love filled Julie and she quietly said goodbye to her best friend as the bus pulled up. She jumped on, seeing the boys follow her to the empty back seats.

By the time they had arrived home, the weariness had settled in Julie’s bones and Alex had to basically carry her in the house. Her dad was out at one of Carlos’ games, so they were easily able to get her up to her room.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked quietly. It was the first he’d spoken since they had left the club and he perched himself on the edge of her bed, eyes scanning her intently. Julie smiled sleepily up at him.

“I am, I promise. I guess discovering and using supernatural powers will really take a lot out of you.” she mumbled.

“So...how did you discover these supernatural powers?” Alex asked, sitting gently on her other side. Reggie placed himself at her feet and rested a hand on her leg.

“It was something my mom used to say to me. She told me that love was the most powerful feeling in the world and that sharing love would be my greatest power. And I remembered the night of the Orpheum, how all I could think about was how much I loved you guys and how much I wish I could save you and then…” Julie yawned lightly.

“And then the magical group hug to end all band circles.” Reggie finished proudly. Luke rolled his eyes fondly and Julie giggled.

“Yup. You know the rest.”

“So that explains how you saved us. But how were you able to fend Caleb off? He was going to stamp you and then it was like he was burned. I don’t understand.” Alex was thoroughly confused.

“I do.” Reggie said, his eyes watery. He rubbed Julie’s ankle comfortingly.

“It was our love for Julie that protected her. Like hers did the night of the Orpheum. It made her glow.”

The silence between the four of them stretched long. It wasn’t a new revelation that the band loved each other, but more of a realization of how deeply that love ran. Tears prickled in Julie’s eyes as she realized how grateful she was for these three ghosts that had dropped into her life and changed it irrevocably.

“I love you guys,” she whispered, the lump in her throat making it hard to talk any louder.

“We love you too, Julie.” Reggie murmured. The three boys simultaneously crawled into the circle of Julie’s embrace and cuddled close on her bed. Reggie rested his head on her knees and hugged her legs tightly while Alex pulled her into his chest and pressed her face into the junction of his shoulder. Luke curled into her back and tentatively rested his arm along hers. When she pulled him decisively closer, she felt him smile into her hair and decided to ignore the fluttering in her stomach for the time being.

She knew they would have to talk about what Caleb had revealed at some point. But the feeling of contentment that spread through her body at the feeling of being surrounded by three of the most important people in her life kept her from disrupting the moment.

They laid like that for hours, not speaking. Julie thought she would drift off eventually as the events of the day caught up to her, but her eyes refused to close. She felt Luke combing gently through her curls, twisting them though his fingers. Reggie would squeeze her legs gently every once in a while and Alex gently tapped a beat against her arm with his fingers. It was soothing, these little quirks from the boys. It wasn’t until her dad knocked gently on the door and informed her that dinner was ready that she extracted herself from the band and made her way downstairs. Carlos filled the usual dinner chatter and Julie excused herself as soon as the dishes were done to go upstairs and call Flynn back.

Her best friend was understandably astounded when she finished telling her what had happened. Julie had omitted the part where she had almost given into Caleb’s promises on her own volition. She hadn’t fully come to terms with that idea herself and she knew Flynn would absolutely freak out on her.

“Well damn girl. Are we completely sure you aren’t living in a supernatural movie? First three ghosts literally drop into your life, then you’re basically kidnapped by another evil ghost who wants to steal your soul, now you’re telling me you discovered some sort of super power that saved you from the crazy ghost man?”

“You’re telling me.” Julie had groaned.

Now, after telling Flynn goodbye almost two hours ago, Julie still couldn’t fall asleep. She knew she couldn’t just forget about Caleb’s promises and the reasons she had almost given in.

“I can’t lose anyone else that I love!”

“You won’t!”

“Yes I will! You’ll all cross over and I’ll just keep losing people I love.”

“No you won’t Julie. I know you. Even if one day we do cross over, we will always be with you. I will always be with you, right here. Right beside you. I couldn’t leave you even if I tried!”

Julie shook herself out of the memory and was out of bed before she knew what she was doing. Her monster slippers were on her feet and she blindly reached for a sweater before creeping out of her room. It was late enough that her dad’s light was off and the house was silent, so she avoided any creaky stairs and only opened the back door wide enough to slip through it.

Her steps became more determined. She knew what she needed to say. She’d been dancing around this for too long and Caleb had taken advantage of it.

She reached the studio doors and threw them open, preparing to shoo Reggie and Alex away when the scene in front of her stopped her in her tracks.

There were four ghosts in her studio.

Reggie and Luke were loosely grouped around Alex and the other dark haired boy. He had his hands braced on Alex’s shoulders and Alex had his on his waist. The boy’s long tresses were wild around his head, his dark eyes snapping to meet hers as she entered the studio.

“Julie?” he asked. Alex turned and Julie could tell by the look on his face exactly who he was.

“Hey Willie.” she smiled.

“You can see him?” Alex demanded. Julie nodded and Alex looked on the verge of a breakdown before Willie grabbed his hand.

“I had a feeling this might happen.” Willie said. Julie would have been more concerned if she didn’t catch the hint of a smile on his face.

“What do you mean? What happened?” she asked.

“You, Julie Molina, are the most powerful lifer I have ever met.” he laughed. He gestured for Julie to sit on the couch, where Reggie and Luke followed almost immediately. They sat beside her as Willie took the chair and pulled Alex to sit on the arm beside him.

“I wasn’t there when Caleb tried to trick you. But I definitely felt it when you broke my stamp,”

“Wait, WHAT?” Alex squawked. Willie chuckled, ever the picture of ease.

“I felt some kind of sting on my wrist that I haven’t felt since Caleb stamped me. Then I looked at it and it was like it floated off my arm and disappeared. And I felt...stronger. Like my soul had just been reconnected. When I went back to the club, I realized that I couldn’t get back in. You can only be allowed inside if you’re a part of the club or you're invited. And that’s when I knew I was free.”

“Wait, so you mean to say that Julie was able to save you just like she saved us?” Luke asked.

“It’s the only explanation I can think of since my stamp came off.” Willie shrugged.

“You did tell Caleb to leave Willie alone. Y’know, when you were being a badass and all…” Reggie interjected.

“You did?” Willie asked, suddenly soft. Julie nodded.

“You’re family, Willie. I wasn’t about to tick the evil scheming ghost off with my super cool powers and leave you to clean up the mess.”

He turned and met Julie’s gaze. The laid back attitude she somehow knew was his default setting suddenly melted into somber remorse.

“Julie, I want to apologize to you.”

Julie was taken aback.

“For what?” she asked incredulously.

“For getting the boys into that mess at the club. I honestly...I thought it was a great place. It was the first place I knew where I felt like I belonged. Caleb...I swear I never thought he could be capable of what he did. I knew he was difficult sometimes but he always offered me the freedom to do what I wanted. And when I met these really cool ghosts who could be seen by a lifer, I thought they would be happy at the club and could really learn to love it there, like I did. So I invited them to Caleb’s party

“And then Caleb stamped them--I swear to you I didn’t know he would!--and then I kept checking on them to see if I could maybe find a time to tell them what happened. I told them they would be able to cross over if they figured out what their unfinished business was. I know it wouldn’t make up for what I did, but then at least they wouldn’t be trapped somewhere they never wanted to stay. They never wanted to stay at Caleb’s club, they only wanted to be in a band with you. And I almost took that away from them. I will never forgive myself from almost taking them from you.”

Julie, after all the emotion and turmoil of the day, felt the tears brimming and Willie looked like he wanted to poof away. Julie stood and reached out for him, hoping with everything in her that what she was thinking would work. She was only mildly surprised when her hand went right through his and she sighed.

“Alex, can you please hug him for me?” she whined jokingly. Willie and Alex’s faces lit up before the blonde pulled him up and into his arms. Julie and the other two boys watched with excited expressions as Willie pulled Alex as close as he could.

Julie hadn’t been lying when she’d called Willie family. Despite what he had done initially under Caleb’s control, he had risked everything to help save her boys. He had sacrificed his own happiness with Alex in order to keep them from being trapped like he was. The least she could do was try and save him too.

She suddenly felt pressure on her hand and she turned to see Luke linking his pinkie finger with hers. When she met his gaze, he nodded to the couple still embracing and mouthed ‘thank you’. Julie nodded, smiling.

No question.

When Alex and Willie finally pulled away, Willie looked around and whistled.

“This place is dope! Can’t wait to hear what you guys are working on next.”

“We have a gig coming up in a few days! You should hear the new stuff Luke and Julie have been working on!” Reggie squealed eagerly. He suddenly gasped.

“Does this mean we have our own roadie now?” he asked, wide eyed. Luke snorted and Julie laughed. Alex just shook his head and muttered an “okay Reg”.

“Hey Willie! Let's go to the beach and moon the lifers down there!” Reggie suggested, jumping up from his spot on the couch. Alex rolled his eyes until Willie cackled and slung an arm around the bassist’s shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted to go for a midnight swim…” he crowed. He turned to Alex and raised an eyebrow.

“Y’comin, hot dog?” he asked mischievously. Alex couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he glanced over at Luke and Julie.

“I’ll pass on this one, guys. Just stay out of trouble please? I’ve already dealt with enough supernatural today.” she warned.

“Same here.” Luke said simply. The boys nodded before poofing out and Julie and Luke were alone.

Julie felt her heart stumble in her chest. What she had been banking on less than an hour ago was suddenly in her grasp. The determination she had felt earlier, before finding Willie, had evaporated.

Her and Luke had never been awkward around each other. From the moment he had stood in front of her and told her “we’re all a little crazy”, they had been two kindred souls. She’d found out he’d been the one who had written her favorite songs that had informed her love of music. They had both lost their mothers in different ways and found comfort in music. Even her mom, an enigma she never imagined, had somehow been connected to her boys as evidenced by the love and care that went into the bedazzled Sunset Curve t-shirt Julie had folded in the bottom of her drawer.

Everything in her life had somehow pointed her towards Luke. She couldn’t ignore the signs. They had always been there.

“Julie…”

Julie’s head snapped up to see Luke standing at the piano. He was leaning against the side of it, fiddling nervously with his rings.

“What happened today? Why were you at that club?” he asked quietly. Julie knew he wasn’t angry with her. She had felt his fear and later relief when he had pulled her from her trance.

“Nick called me. He said that he was in trouble and no one was picking up. He said he needed me and told me to go to the club. Caleb used him to trick me into coming.” Julie felt her ire burn when she remembered the lie. Poor Nick. She would have to call him in the morning and check on him.

“Oh.” Luke said simply.

Julie mentally quirked an eyebrow. Luke was many things, but he was not frugal with his words. When he was really fired up, he could go for hours until someone--usually Alex--shut him up by blasting Julie’s Spotify on the loudest volume. And even then he could sometimes talk over it and critique the music, much to his bandmate’s chagrin.

“Are you okay?” she asked, standing up and moving towards him. As she reached a hand out to place it on his arm, he abruptly jumped away from her. Julie watched, her arm still raised, as Luke began to pace the studio.

“How could I be okay, Julie? Do you understand how terrified I was? Caleb was this close to stealing your soul! What could have happened if we hadn’t gotten there in time? He would have taken you and we would have lost you. I would have lost you!”

“I’m sorry, Luke. I never would have gone if I knew what he was planning. He was putting some kind of spell on me and I tried to fight it as hard as I could.”

“But what about after?” Luke demanded. “You said it was the only way you could keep from losing us. You were well aware of what he could do and you let him try again. How could you even think that was an option?”

“Luke,” Julie murmured, moving closer to him. “I have never been more sorry in my life. I know it was wrong of me to even think about taking his deal. I never would have considered it before tonight.”

“So why did you?” he asked. There it was. The hurt and dread that had been just under the surface all night. Julie sighed.

“Because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to lose someone again.” she replied. Luke looked ready to interrupt but Julie held her hand up to stop him.

“I know you are about to say something wonderful and sweet about how brave I am and how you would never leave me. But the reality is, Luke, someday there will be a day that you three will cross over. Maybe it’s next week, maybe three months, or maybe it’ll be in ten years. And I will still be here. I won’t be able to follow you, no matter how much I want to. I will still have to live my life.

“So yeah, when Caleb offered me the opportunity to keep you three forever I thought about it. I’m not proud of it, but I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to not only save myself the pain of losing three of my best friends, but I wanted to hold onto the magic we make as a band.”

“You are not selfish.” Luke protested vehemently, darting over to stand in front of Julie. Julie smiled.

“All that and that’s what you take from it?” she teased. Luke grinned.

“Reggie called me the ‘number one Julie Molina stan’ or ‘fan’ or whatever he said. Just trying to live up to the title.” Julie giggled and Luke’s face melted into an expression of such softness that it made her heart flutter. She continued, aware of the electricity between them.

“And then you sang ‘Finally Free’ and I knew you were right. You will always be a part of me, no matter what happens. And I knew there was no deal that Caleb could come up with that would change that.”

Luke smiled softly at her, reaching out to push a wayward curl out of her face.

“What I said was true, y’know,” he murmured. “I will always find a way back to you, Julie.”

It was as powerful as if he had said the words he really meant. Julie could feel her heart expanding and bursting at the seams.

She knew. She knew that her feelings for Luke Patterson had grown and shifted and bloomed. It was undeniable. She found herself, like many times before, wishing she could run up to her mother and ask her the question that had burned itself into her mind day after day since that night on the porch.

Is this what love feels like? Is this what all the songs are about?

She felt the whisper of an answer.

Yes.

Julie smiled and grabbed Luke’s hand.

“C’mere. I want to play you something…” she said. He let himself be pulled over to the piano, where Julie sat down and shifted so there was room beside her. He gently took his spot, gazing at her.

“Whatcha got for me, boss?” he teased. Julie grinned and shook her head, before placing her hands on the keys and beginning to play a gentle melody.

“I was alone so long

I didn't even know that I was lonely.

Out in the cold so long

I didn't even know that I was cold.

Turned my collar to the wind

This is how it's always been.

All I've ever known is how to hold my own.

All I've ever known is how to hold my own.

But now I wanna hold you, too.”

Julie glanced over to take in Luke’s expression of awe and adoration that made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. He wordlessly turned in his seat so his legs hung off the back of the bench and his guitar landed in his lap. Tenderly, letting her lead, he began to strum the melody with her as her voice swelled with the music.

“You take me in your arms

And suddenly there's sunlight all around me.

Everything bright and warm

And shining like it never did before.

And for a moment I forget

Just how dark and cold it gets.

All I've ever known is how to hold my own.

All I've ever known is how to hold my own.

But now I wanna hold you,

Now I wanna hold you

Hold you close.

I don't ever wanna have to let you go.

Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight

I don't wanna go back to the lonely life.”

Julie let her falsetto carry the last note, closing her eyes. She had never felt this vulnerable, even when she had stood in front of the entire Orpheum audience and prepared to sing without the boys. But if the last year had taught her anything, she needed to open her heart. She couldn’t hide it away anymore.

Luke’s gentle, tenor rasp took over and she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her with a multitude of emotions in his eyes. She continued to play, never moving her gaze from his.

“I don't know how or why

Or who am I that I should get to hold you?

But when I saw you all alone against

The skies, it’s like I'd known you all along

I knew you before we met

And I don't even know you yet.

All I know is you’re someone I have always known.”

Julie felt the truth of his words wash over her. It was exactly what she had been thinking before she’d gone to the studio. Their connection was undeniable, even before they were even aware of it. Fate had pushed them together, two halves of a whole waiting for the other.

Julie joined him, her falsetto floating above his melody.

“All I know is you're someone I have always known.

And I don't even know you

Now I wanna hold you,

Hold you close.

I don't ever wanna have to let you go.”

“Suddenly the sunlight: bright and warm…” Julie began, inching closer to him.

“Suddenly I'm holding the world in my arms.” Luke finished. His guitar vanished from his hands at the same time Julie’s fingers left the keys and then their lips finally met.

Julie had always wondered what the big deal about first kisses was. When her and Carrie and Flynn would have their sleepovers back in elementary school, they would spend hours upon hours talking about what their first kisses would be like and how important it was to find the right guy. Julie had always balked at the idea that there would be a first kiss that could be that perfect.

Elementary school Julie had obviously never kissed Luke Patterson.

His lips were soft and gentle against hers, all of his burning passion he felt on a daily basis smouldering into a golden flame intent on her. One of his hands came up to cradle her face and Julie shivered at the feeling of his calluses caressing her cheeks while the other threaded through her hair. Julie let her own mould to his face and stroke the soft wisps of hair at his temples.

It felt as if her heart would beat out of her chest. This felt like the beginning of something incredible and of coming home all at the same time. When she had reached for his hand on her porch all those weeks ago, she had never imagined she would ever gain the opportunity to kiss him.

All too soon, Luke gently pulled away and rested his head against her forehead. He had his eyes closed and a beaming smile split across his face.

“I’m crazy about you, Julie Molina,” he whispered. Julie leaned forward and pecked his lips briefly, causing him to open his eyes.

“Te adoro Luke Patterson.” she murmured. He gently tugged her into his arms and she leaned against his chest, pulling his arms closer around her.

“I know you’re scared of what’s going to happen, Jules.” Luke said softly. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t too. But I don’t want to waste a moment of my second chance. You brought us back here and I believe I was always meant to know you. I will not let that slip through my fingers.” He pressed a light kiss to her forehead and it stole Julie’s breath away.

“I’ve always known we were connected somehow. I thought it might have been my mom. Maybe…” Julie trailed off.

“Maybe…” Luke prodded.

“...maybe it was something bigger than all of us.”

Luke hugged her closer.

“You mean like fate?” he asked. Julie shrugged.

“I don’t know, and frankly, I’m too content to care.” Luke chuckled and Julie reached up to kiss him again. It was slowly becoming her favorite pastime.

When they broke apart once again, Julie grinned.

“I have more…” she whispered. Luke beamed and gently pulled her up so she was tucked under his arm with all the range to play.

“Say that you'll hold me forever.

Say that the wind won't change on us.

Say that we'll stay with each other.

And it will always be like this.”

Luke squeezed her tenderly.

“I'm gonna hold you forever

The wind will never change on us

Long as we stay with each other…”

Their voices melded together perfectly, as if the universe itself had decided it. And maybe it had. But for the time being, they were just Luke and Julie.

“Then it will always be like this…”

******

Thanks for reading everyone!

[plounce]

god ik its a wm au but I would Love to hear more about beauyasha in this au.. also like what has yasha been up to on earth? how does she interact with beau and caleb before molly arrives? 💜🕊

>:)))! i can absolutely do so!!

so in the first two or so seasons before all the heaven/apocalypse stuff, beau and caleb met yasha in an episode. she never SAID she was a valkyrie but that’s what they assumed she was, since she had a lot of viking stuff on her and the accent and she sort of implied that. it’s what made sense at the time, especially because they had no signs that angels are a real thing.

then molly happens, and then when yasha shows back up again they recognize each other and WHAT! YASHA’S AN ANGEL ACTUALLY?? crazy.

basically what happened is that at around 200 bce or so, yasha fell in love. i’m gonna say that zuala was another angel in her garrison, and angels aren’t supposed to fall in love. they’re supposed to be conforming divine warriors who don’t have all the flaws (or strengths, or texture, or spark) that humans do.

zuala was painted as the main culprit in this transgression. rather than making her Fall (les mis voice) as lucifer fell (because by that point they didn’t want to add any more True demons to hell’s side) for punishment, they decide to just obliterate her a la the hellfire in the last scene of the good omens tv show. it isn’t pretty. yasha is made to watch. she screams, and it makes the sun flare.

the rest of the angels are going to have their memories wiped of her - including yasha - but she learns of this in time and breaks through the floor of heaven and plummets to earth. molly helps her escape, but manages to avoid getting caught doing so.

molly was in the same garrison as them, and his memory of zuala was wiped with the rest of them. he remembers yasha, remembers being fond of her, remembers that she left heaven voluntarily and that he helped her, but there’s so many blank spots. they have him move garrisons to the tomb-takers after that, who are very elite and militant, and he becomes a demon-killing expert. it’s meant to drown out all that. and it kind of works; molly remembers more of yasha when he sees her again on earth.

yasha falls and falls and her angel blade slips from her hand as she dematerializes. it plummets and falls deep into some wilderness. a glint streaking down from the shooting star in the sky that night.

what happens next is the thing that happened with anna - yasha has no vessel lined up and she wasn’t given permission to leave, and is swiftly getting her grace cut off by heaven, and her being is transformed into a human baby. she is born, and grows up in a little scandinavian village a little bit strange. her parents tell her how there was a huge shooting star the night she was born, how they think it’s a good omen form the gods, and she has a sense that she’s different - special. she’s strong and naturally gifted with the club and the axe and especially the sword - anything they put in her hands.

when she’s old enough, she’s chosen to go on their clan’s raids. she excels at getting the resources her village needs from the southern peoples. she’s a terror, and everyone knows that she’s blessed from above.

then one year, she gets separated from the raiding party and is making her way through the forest trying to make it back to the coast so she can find their boat. and out of the corner of her eye she sees a strange glint, and something in her pulls her to go to it. it’s a strange sword embedded in the rock, and she puts her hand on it, and pulls –

and memories and power flood into her. memories of zuala, of creation, of molly, of heaven’s gleaming pathways, of zuala, of the first things that crawled on land, of zuala, of the face of god, of zuala, zuala, zuala. smiling, flying, fighting, touching, burning. she screams. her howl echoes through the woods.

her people have been waiting for her back at the boat, because they can’t leave their best warrior behind. when she strides out of the woods, she’s different. she walks different, and has this power radiating from her. she climbs on the boat, tells them to go. she’s almost glowing a little bit. they row away, and yasha spends the entire journey staring up at the sky, out at the horizon.

after that day she’s different. even quieter. everyone assumes she had a holy experience that day, and she doesn’t disagree, because, well. after that day she’s keenly aware of the norse gods’ presences, and doesn’t age. when she realizes that everyone is moving forward towards death without her (humans seem so small now - she loves her human parents, she does, but remembering what the sun looked like in its infancy changes a viking), she leaves, and goes to asgard, and pledges herself to the ranks of valkyries. she’s not nearly as strong as she once was, but she’s strong enough to fit in with her new people, so she finds herself a place there among the aesir.

(side note im keeping my distance from how this world interacts with non-abrahamic religions - thats SO not my business - just know theyve got their own power and their own places that aren’t like. Beneath that of abrahamic god. because iirc spn was terrible about that) (also i say abrahamic bc iirc islam has a lot of angels and demonology in its culture but thats all im gonna say bc again: i am not a theology major, and this au is much more about the surface fun of it all rather than making any statements or assertions about ACTUAL religions (past or present) obviously) (also i’m never gonna mention jesus or the antichrist or whatever)

the angel blade is tied to her grace. her grace still exists up in heaven, locked away in the archives, so the blade still has its source. it also contains her love for zuala and molly and - and all that she loved before she was torn apart - and that fuels it, connects it to her. gives her access to its power. she’s mostly just sort of supernaturally stronger and can take more of a beating than a normal human, and on certain days/times of year she can fly short distances. days that were holy to her. she carves norse runes on her blade, because it’s hers now. she can’t age or die of old age, but she still does have human needs - food, water, sleep. she’s tough, but if she’s unlucky then she can be killed. luckily, she’s very good at fighting.

her wings… they’re not like they once were. being with the valkyries makes humans see them like other valkyries’, but the aesir can see them for what they are - decayed, fragile, skeletal things, with what remaining feathers there are barely hanging on. like her feathers in cr proper.

after ragnarok, when the surviving aesir meet in the fields of asgard, yasha thanks them for their hospitality, and returns to midgard. she wanders for a while, mostly by herself. she helps when she sees people who need her help, but mostly she just keeps herself alive and moving. quiet, contemplative. loving god’s creation even though heaven hurt her deeply. she spends years not speaking to anyone. what happened to the aesir was traumatizing to her, and she’s secure enough that she doesn’t need what they gave her when she was “younger.”

at some point she makes her way to north america. she wanders, builds cabins, and when she stumbles upon the opportunity she watches over what she once watched over. she’s aware of Hunters but is uninterested in them - they’re not hunting for food and while they help widows and the grieving that’s not their Business. not her business.

flash forward to early season 2. we know beau and caleb by this point and the basic premise of the show and the world. on a hunt in montana beau and caleb take shelter in a cabin during a snowstorm, and in the middle of the night the door opens. beau is taking watch and shoves a gun up in the intruder’s face - but it’s just yasha, holding a deer carcass and looking distinctly unimpressed. “you’re in my house.”

beau stutters an apology, caught entirely off guard by the 6′5″ mountain of a woman, and yasha shoulders past her to the table to stoke the fire and clean her kill. it’s her dinner for next month, yasha gruffly explains when beau asks what she’s doing. don’t like supermarkets.

caleb wakes up to beau helping yasha cut away the entrails. he is very frightened and confused, but when beau gives the all-clear he calms down a little. not entirely, because he knows this woman is beau’s type, and they’re still on a hunt.

they explain what they’re up to to yasha, who nods. says she’s noticed things have been strange. and beau helped her, so. she’ll help them. she’s also bored, and has a good feeling about these two.

so she helps out with the hunt, and throughout the episode beau clumsily flirts with her and yasha never turns her down but also never Flirts back. there’s a tension that’s mostly powered by beau but isn’t shut down by yasha (yasha thinks beau’s sweet and attractive, and she’s taken some human lovers over the last two millennia, but is still devoted to the memory of zuala. the audience doesn’t know that thought). she and caleb connect on a We Are Both Quiet Introverts level, like they do in actual cr (reminiscent of the shaving scene after bowlgate).

it isn’t until the end that caleb and beau think she’s anything but a mountain lady. then she pulls out a HUGE GLOWING SWORD carved with RUNES and THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND HER THAT LOOKS LIKE WINGS? and then she nods, says goodbye, and walks away into the woods before caleb and beau can pepper her with questions about what the fuck just happened.

they run after her, but can’t find her or the cabin again. in the car ride back to civilization, caleb theorizes that she might be a valkyrie, and beau’s like yeah that sounds appropriately sexy.

yasha is a fan favorite. she had a whole focus episode and she was so mysterious and cool! the audience clamors for her to be brought back, and are sad when she doesn’t show up for the rest of season 2. beau and caleb mention her a couple times, so it’s made plain that she isn’t TOTALLY a one-off, but… hm!

beaujester shippers already existed by this point (jester was in season 1 and again in season 2), and beauyasha gains some popularity. beau having attractions to both of them is present in the show, but she isn’t dating either of them. there’s significance to both of them - they’re both people beau thinks of when she thinks of having Somebody.

a lot of fic about yasha is written between seasons 2 and 4, theorizing about her life as a valkyrie and what her and beau meeting up would be like… which is all then jossed when angels happen in season 4.

caleb gets taken to hell at the end of season 3 because of ikithon and for beau. during his last couple days on earth, he begs beau to find jester. or hell, yasha. don’t be alone, please. live and be happy. go get - go get powerlifted by one or both of them. i heard you sleeptalk enough about that. and beau tells him to shut up, don’t talk like that, i’ll - i’ll find a way to bring you back. and then you can see me get gay married or whatever it is you want me to do. because i’m gonna get you out of there. and caleb smiles, and his eyes say we both know you won’t.

there’s a whole genre of fic about jester or yasha (or both) comforting beau and settling into hunting/domesticity with her or helping her rescue caleb after caleb gets dragged away btw. idk why im making up fake fic about this au but you know what. i deserve this.

yasha is sort of put out of mind in the heaven excitement of season 4 and the arrival of molly as a third companion, turning their duo into a trio half the time. the apocalypse stuff isn’t quite happening yet btw (this is where i start diverging from the seasonal structure of spn), it’s just angels being real and caleb and beau being mysteriously important to them.

there is one point where during the beginning of an episode about halfway through the season where they’re regaling molly with a story of one of their hunts - beau is trying to embarrass caleb with a time he got enthralled by a siren, and caleb bats back with well, at least i didn’t let a giant woman with a dead deer push my gun aside so she could skin the thing with no enchantments on me at all. and beau’s like AW CMON DUDE DONT BRING YASH INTO THIS.

then there’s a shot where their bickering dialogue continues but the camera is focused on molly, who tilts his head a little, considering, then takes a sip of his orange juice (he hates coffee - too bitter! if he’s going to consume something to keep up the idea that he’s human, it’ll be something that tastes good!). then it cuts to the car.

it’s intentionally ambiguous if that’s about caleb getting seduced by a siren, beau being embarrassed, or whatever - it’s just an odd little moment. which is significant when they’re up north again, four episodes later, in a little restaurant off the highway, and they’ve just finished their meal and talk about the season plotline is happening when the door SLAMS open, and booted feet stomp across the dirty tile, strong legs in worn jeans, a huge backpack - beau’s eyes widen - and there’s yasha, striding directly to their table with a look of utmost focus and determination.

beau goes to stand, caleb’s brow furrows - yasha, what are you doing here - what’s going on - when, before they can act, molly stands up, causing the table to rock and their cups to slosh over. yashael! he exclaims, his face split in incredulous delight. you’re alive! you survived! you’re okay - it’s been millennia! what are you doing here?! oh, i don’t care, get over here. and he goes to her, and she hugs him, and beau and caleb are standing there, slack-jawed, as stony stoic yasha cracks a wide smile and hugs molly and lifts him off the ground.

did… did mollymauk just say ‘yashael?’ caleb says, stunned. molly is cradling yasha’s face in his hands, and her cheeks are round with joy. beau’s imagination could never have given her this smile, and she’s jealous a little bit, but also in awe, but mostly also trying to process the two puzzle pieces that just locked themselves together that she thought were totally separate from each other.

(relevant posts to their reunion: art, text, text)

from then on yasha is part of their group, at least for that season. there’s a lot of caleb and beau commiserating over their attraction to two LITERAL ANGELS - especially when the truth of yasha’s fall is revealed. beau is torn up inside about all of it - an ANGEL, for the first part, and her dead angel lover (how could beau ever compete with an ANGEL) and, oh christ, molly’s odd humoring of her crush on yasha is cast in a new light now.

and then jester comes back and… well, now beau’s torn between two hot girls who are both important in the grand scheme of things! yipes!

it takes a long time and there’s probably also some romantic drama in that triangle etc, but beauyaster is endgame. because i have a huge fucking brain.

[anagnorisisis]

Widojest Week

Day 2: Healing ~ 1.6k

Takes place mid-episode 30. A reimagining of grief.

“Where’s Molly?”

“Jester,” Caleb said softly.

The tide rushed to shore, bringing a layer of seafoam and a low roar with it. The wave sent water over her heart and soaked her with the intensity of death and the astringent scent of reality.

Jester had never lost like this.

“Here, for you,” Caleb said. His voice was slow, weighed down from exhaustion and solemnness. Jester turned to him with a wide smile. The expression did not look right, her eyes did not crinkle nor did her right incisor puncture her bottom lip. Her smiles were infectious, groundbreaking, and this was not one of them.

Caleb clutched the soiled fabric of her bag between his gloved hands and raised his arms. “I’ve been carrying this for you.”

It took Jester a moment to muster up the energy for a true response, but when she did, she exclaimed “My bag!” and reached out to take it from him. “Thank you, Caleb.”

“Mmhm,” Caleb mumbled while scooting away from her.

She cocked her head to the side and held the bag close to her chest. “Although, it looks really good with your coat,” she said in that sing-song voice of hers. Caleb was going to shatter beneath her faux cheerfulness. She had healed his wounds so quickly, yet he could clearly see the dark bruises coating her arms. With every movement, her sleeves showed him more.

“I know,” he responded, watching the way she adjusted the bag along her shoulders in inhibited movements.

She pressed her lips together and caught his eyes with a raw tenderness he had not been expecting. Caleb released a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispered, allowing her pain to breach the surface of her expression. Her dark eyebrows dipped above her normally lively eyes.

Caleb cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Looks better on you,” he said, awkwardly casting his eyes away from her bruised body and tense brow.

Throughout the day, he watched as she flittered from conversation to conversation, never lingering for long. Unlike him, she wore her grief well, far behind the shore of reality.

He wondered if she was drowning, and what, if anything, he could do to save her.

That night, he had created his first dome. It was light brown with hints of orange, and it was his.  “Caleb, can you hear through it?” Jester shouted from outside. She was pressed up against the surface of the energy, cupping her hands around her eyes as she attempted to look in. She looked ridiculous, with her tangled hair surrounding her face like a dark blue storm cloud, but for the first time since they had retrieved her from her manacles, she looked alive. Brimming with energy, and enthralled by Caleb’s spell, Jester Lavorre’s marvel for the world fought the heavy oppression of grief.

Caleb, knowing she couldn’t see him, smiled. “Yeah!” he called back, breathless, and equally amazed.

“Can we come into it?” she asked.

“Only you,” he said quickly, without a filter barring his voice. He cared very little about offending the others, or what singling her out implicated, all he knew was that at that moment she was happy, and he wanted to make that instance of joy last as long as he could.

Jester bravely stepped forward and entered the hut. She spun on her heel and examined the now transparent dome walls. Her chapped lips parted, forming a perfect capital ‘o’ and she turned to him with absolute wonder in her eyes.

Playing to his role as magician, Caleb raised his finger to his lips. “They can all come in, but, be quiet,” he whispered, and she nodded, captivated by the man behind the spell.

 “Okay, okay.” Jester craned her neck back, her thick locks bunched at the collar of her dress. “This is so cool! Well—you need like pillows in here, Caleb. This is really neat.”

Caleb ran his hand down the side of his rough-shaven face. “Well, it’s—”

Nott stuck her leg through the dome, testing the contents of the hut before fully diving in. She bent at the knee and stared up at Caleb. “Did it work?” she asked.

With his previous sentence still on his lips, Caleb paused and watched as Nott’s large yellow eyes twitched, he glanced back to Jester before clearing his throat. “Hello,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Nott responded, and from the corner of his eye, Caleb could see Jester’s open mouth grin, she often succumbed to. When the woman smiled, she smiled with her entire body, curved shoulders, and loose stance; it was something he had always admired about her. She felt with her entire being.

“Are you oh-kay?” Fjord asked, his deep voice vibrated the room, and Caleb hid his amusement behind a small smile. If he knew that this one spell would bring their entire party so much joy, he would have started learning it a week earlier.

“You can’t see us, but we can see you,” Caleb explained, shifting from toe to heel. “I have been working on this for weeks.” He turned to Jester with an intense smile, pride flushed his skin and sent a trail of goosebumps along his forearms.

Picking up on the wizard’s rare excitement, Jester swiveled her head again and took note of every detail she could find. “This is really cool!” Her words were genuine, and so was her joy. Another blush, deeper and far too warm for his liking, burned the tips of Caleb’s ears.

Across from him, Jester leaned forward, and Caleb straightened his back. “Can anybody come through? Or only your friends?” Caleb raised his hand and pointed a finger to her, ready to speak. She tilted her head and wagged her brow. “Only people that you like?”

Caleb dropped his hand and parted his lips. For a moment, all he did was breathe. He watched as she swayed on her feet to a song only her heart could drum. She wanted an answer, and so for her and her song’s sake, he gave her one. “You can come in.”

She leaned forward with a smile; her incisor pinched her bottom lip, a testament to its validity. “That means you like me,” she stated, fully aware that it was a fact.

Caleb let his feature’s drop in faux passiveness. She giggled, and Caleb turned to grab Fjord and pull him into the hut, giving himself an escape from the woman’s intoxicating energy.

Once Caleb turned away, and the others occupied the tiny hut, Jester’s lips twitched and threatened to fall.

As the night continued, they handed out recently acquired treasures and created a ‘pillow fort,’ which was simply a hodgepodge of splintered furniture and lumpy cushions but gave them all comfort none the less. At one point, Caleb lost sight of Jester. Anxiety bubbled between his heart and his stomach, and Caleb peered within the nooks and crannies of the fort. She was nowhere to be seen.

If he left the hut, the spell would fade, so Caleb called Frumpkin into existence and sent the cat out in search for her. Caleb laid down across what he considered his bed for the night. He told Nott that he was going to sleep and rolled over onto his shoulder. He called to Frumpkin, asked for the fey’s controls, and once the fey responded with a low purr, Caleb transferred his senses into the cat’s form.

With glowing eyes and lithe limbs, Caleb traversed the large halls of the keep. Using his nose, he nudged each door open, tracing each wall with a lengthy glance, before moving onto the next. He found Jester at the end of a narrow hall. She sat with her legs straight in front of her, the heels of her boots tapped one wall, while her back laid against the other. The sketchbook he had often seen her holding with such tenderness, laid in her lap. She fingered the edge of her page while her pen hovered over the parchment.

She was shaking.

Ink dripped from the nib of her pen, blotting the paper in thick droplets of black. A tear, the first breach of the dam, fell from her thick lashes and landed within the ink. Caleb pushed Frumpkin’s form forward. He chirped softly, and Jester’s trance broke. She looked up from her stained sketchbook, eyes faded and face fractured. “Oh, Frumpkin,” she whispered as she extended her hand.

Caleb felt it was an invasion of privacy on his part, to remain in the cat’s form, but as he rubbed his cheek along Jester’s outstretched fingers, he realized he had found a way to help her. Without warning, Jester picked Frumpkin up and buried her nose into the nape of his neck. Her tears stained the cat’s coat, but the only response she got was a firm purr.

She set her sketchbook down and placed the cat on her lap. She stroked Frumpkin’s forehead, running her unsteady fingers over his head and down around his cheeks. Frumpkin laid down against her thighs, he extended his paws and flexed them as he continued to purr. Folding at the waist, Jester gently rested her head across Frumpkin’s body. Her uneven breaths ruffled his fur, but Caleb did not tell Frumpkin to stop purring.

Jester’s chest shuddered as she muffled a sob. “Molly would have loved it.” Her whisper came as a scream and Caleb instinctually moved to pull away from Frumpkin’s conscience, but wrapped up in her bruised arms and breaking heart, he felt as if it were his duty to see this through. As if he did not trust the fey to finish the job, Caleb remained in control of Frumpkin’s breath, and he would remain at the helm until Jester’s fingers stopped shaking, and her eyes dried enough for her to pick up her pen and sketch what she so struggled to sketch.

He would absorb her grief, just as the sand absorbed the ocean.

[mnemememory]

tick tick tick

The first time (sort of) Caleb meets Beau, she punches him in the nose.

“You motherfucker,” she says, throwing herself into a chair next to Nott and waving down Adelaine the waitress. “You owe me so many drinks.”

(or; the time-travel fix-it that absolutely no one asked me to write, but I did anyway)

fine part 2 on ao3 here and on tumblr here

The first time (sort of) Caleb meets Beau, she punches him in the nose.

“You motherfucker,” she says, throwing herself into a chair next to Nott and waving down Adelaine the waitress. “You owe me so many drinks.”

“Hello, Beauregard,” Nott says. “It’s very nice to see you again.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Beau says, and then turns to face Adelaine. “I need alcohol. So much alcohol. He’s paying.”

“I will pay for it,” Caleb promises, reaching into his purse and pulling out three silver coins. He places them onto the table in front of them, stacking one atop the other. Adelaine gives them a long look, before scooping up the coins and walking briskly away.

“Make it strong!” Beau calls after her.

“It is good to see you, Beau,” Caleb says, cautiously. There is blood dripping down from his nose. He feels around the bridge, making sure that nothing is broken, before staunching the flow with the sleeve of his threadbare jacket.

“No,” Beau says. “No, don’t talk to me, I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Caleb gives a heavy sigh. “Beauregard –”

“CALEB!”

Caleb barely has time to gauge the oncoming line of attack before he is assaulted by something very fast and very blue. Both he and the aggressor are knocked off the chair and onto the ground. Caleb’s head hits the floor with a painful crack, and he groans as the chair flattens onto his hip. He tries to get up, but Jester is a very happy (and incredibly strong) limpet at his side, severely limiting his range of movement.

Fjord follows after her at a more sedate – though still purposeful – pace, and easy smile settled onto his handsome face.

“Now, now, Jester,” he says, amusement plain. “Let him breathe.”

“Hello,” Caleb wheezes out, patting Jester on the back. She does not get up. Caleb tries to push her away, before realising the ultimate futility of the action. He lies back down and stares at the ceiling.

“Don’t act like you can’t hug people, Caleb,” Jester says, face buried into his neck. “I know you can hug people. You’ve hugged me before.”

“I am not much of a hugger, my friend,” Caleb says, though he does concede to putting his arms around her shoulders and squeezing. That seems to be just enough, because Jester gives a dizzy laugh and backs off. As she gets to her feet, all the windows of the inn slam open at the same time, sending a blast of cold air into the otherwise warm interior. A few patrons let out simultaneous startled exclamations, some more vicious than mean spirited than others. One man drops his flagon of beer onto the ground.

Jester smirks down at Caleb, and then effortlessly lifts him to his feet.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Jester says, patting him on the head and then picking up his chair for him. “You are an excellent hugger.”

The knock to his head has Caleb’s nose bleeding afresh, and he’s almost gone through the entire elbow of his sleeve. Nonchalant, Jester pulls out a handkerchief and smushes it into Caleb’s face with just a little too much force.

Blood dripping from his chin and onto his collar, and Caleb couldn’t be happier.

“It’s certainly been a while,” Fjord says, keeping his voice light as he settled in next to Beau. She doesn’t bother acknowledging him, too busy stealing Caleb’s drink and downing it in one large gulp. “A few years, by my guess.”

“I am not entirely sure,” Caleb admits, and there’s something hot burning in his stomach, warmer than a campfire on a cold winter’s night. “I have tried counting, but.”

“It’s a bit difficult to keep track of it all,” Fjord finishes for him.

Beau loudly slurps down the last of Caleb’s beer and side-eyes Nott. “You usually have alcohol,” she says.

Nott hugs her beer closer to her chest, porcelain mask firmly affixed to her face. “Don’t even think about it!” she says, teeth sticking over the edge. She looks very young, and very feral. Caleb kind of wants to hug her, just to prove to himself that he can. “I don’t have my flask, yet – I am not sharing this with you, Beau, back off.”

“You’ve gotten nasty,” Beau says. She’s about to say something else – probably unflattering to the extreme, probably with the potential for a bar fight – when Adelaine comes in with the biggest tankard of ale Caleb has ever seen. Beau’s eyes brighten, and she gives Adelaine a wide smile and a wink.

“Thanks,” she says, and promptly attempts to drown herself. Fjord has to drag it off of her before anything unsettling happens.

From the way Adelaine is looking them over (Jester attempting to strangle Nott with the power of her biceps, Fjord wrestling an intensely uncooperative Beau, Caleb bleeding over the table), they probably seem a little insane.

“Call me over if you need anything else,” she says. She doesn’t sound particularly enthused.

“Thanks for the alcohol,” Beau calls after her, and there’s a calming predictability to her rakish grin. Caleb counts them in his head – one, two, three, four –

The door opens.

They – all of them – almost break their necks with how fast they turn their heads. Caleb’s heart is pounding something awful in his chest. There’s a painful kind of certainty to the “knowing”, to the understanding, to the – weight, of it all. Caleb’s shoulders ache.

Mollymauk Tealeaf walks into the bar, breezing past the doorway with a dazzling flourish of his multi-coloured coat. His smile is sharp and his eyes glitter red, all flamboyance and cheery certainty. Flyers flash in-between his long fingers as he slides them along tables and into the open hands of the unwary.

There’s a shadow trailing at his back, large enough to be impossible to miss. Yasha doesn’t move more than a few feet away from Molly at any given point in time, eyes following the progression around the room with laser-like precision.

Caleb watches out of the corner of his eye as Beau makes a half-aborted attempt to get to her feet. Yasha looks over their way, taking in their clustered grouping with a blank face.

Molly comes to their table, finally – finally. Frumpkin is curled around his ankles, and there is still blood running down Caleb’s face, and everything is finally correct with how the world works.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” Molly says, giving a low bow. Behind him, Yasha rolls her eyes. “At your service!”

Caleb has a Life’s Work.

It’s as grandiose as they come, he likes to think – altering the very fabric of existence. It’s possible. People have done it before. During darker times, bigger times, people have changed the fate of the world and withheld the heavy embrace of death.

(Oh, and the Mighty Nein regularly use it to win drinking contests).

But resurrection – no matter how complete – will not sooth the stitches in Caleb’s soul. He wants something bigger. He wants something better. He wants to have never made the mistakes he has made in the first place.

Impossibly, one day –

He finds it.

Caleb meets Nott in the middle of a robbery, because some things just never change.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, ducking back from a ray of light as city guards survey the area with large flashlights and vicious-looking dogs. Caleb is not a dog person. “I mean – who are you?”

Nott looks unimpressed about everything, though that could just be the way her eyes gleam wild in the low light. Her mask is off, and her teeth are bare, and she has a tight hand wrapped around Caleb’s forearm like she’s worried he’s going to disappear.

“Don’t give me that!” she whisper-yells, which – remarkably – does not immediately alert the guards to their position. “Do you know how long it’s been, Caleb? Do you? I’ve been trying for weeks to remember which store I had been casing out – this happened years ago, and my memory isn’t the best –”

Before he can think better of it, Caleb sweeps her up into a hug.

Yasha is surveying their little group with the distinct impression of a mother duck who finally has all her ducklings in one place.

She is sitting next to Beau – Fjord having surrendered his place with only a few good-natured grumblings – with Molly in her direct line of sight. He looks visibly startled, though he hides it well. His words are slick with charm. Still, there’s something off about his carnival spiel this time around. It takes him a few good five minutes to break, which is better than Caleb would have given him the first time around.

“Are these friends of yours, Yasha?” he says.

Yasha doesn’t look up from her own tankard of ale, arm slung low around Beau’s waist. “No.”

Jester pouts. She’s been vibrating in her seat since the moment Molly walked into the tavern. It has taken previously unknown depths of patience not to grab him in a vicious, bloody hug right there and then. “Yasha,” she says, sounding theatrically heartbroken. “Am I not your friend?”

Yasha sighs. “Yes, we are friends.”

“How about Nott?” Jester demands.

“Her too.”

“What about Caleb? Is he still your friend?”

Caleb gives her a narrow look, but she doesn’t even bother glancing in his direction. Yasha takes another long swig of her ale.

“Yes, we are friends.”

Caleb lets out a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding. He hadn’t been particularly loud about it, but Nott gives him a sharp look anyway. “Caleb is my friend as well,” she says, loud enough that the rest of the table sits back and takes notice.

“We are definitely friends, Caleb,” Jester says, beaming. “We’re all friends! Oh, I missed you guys so much.”

Yasha looks Molly dead in the eye. “I have never seen these people in my life.”

They visit the circus again. Molly undoubtably thinks they’re all crazy, and Yasha actually has a paying job that isn’t “freelance monster killer”.

“You should let us keep our weapons this time,” Beau says, trying futilely to hide her staff behind her back. “You know us. It’s fine.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Yasha says. Molly barks out a sharp laugh, which is soundly ignored. He starts moving back into the tent, but Yasha’s sharp glance pins him to the sport. She has him well trained. Caleb watches on, amused. “And I have to confiscate all your weapons for security purposes.”

“Yasha!” Beau protests, but Yasha just leans forward to grab Beau’s staff right out of her hands. “Hey! At least give me the same deal as last time!”

“No.”

“This is robbery,” Beau says, shoving the money into Molly’s hands and then turning to face the rest of them, hands folded petulantly across her chest.

“I’ll pay for everyone else,” Nott says. Beau gapes at her.

“Wait –”

Yasha solemnly takes the money (from where he’s standing, Caleb counts short, though that doesn’t seem to bother her overmuch) and ushers them inside. She does not take away anyone else’s weapons.

This time, there is no killer frog, because months ago (Yasha says) she had taken one look at Kylre and said, placidly, “Gee, that kind of looks like a fiend.” He had then proceeded to try and rip her throat out, which had led some credence to her offhand observation.

For most of his life, Caleb has been afraid of fire.

As a child, he would light candles with a simple tug of his stomach, watch as they sputtered light into the shadows and made them deeper, darker. His friends had delighted at the game, loved the way he could blink and leave a room differ than when he found it. They grew bored, over time, but in the beginning things had seemed so wonderful, so – well. Magical.

“Oh no,” Caleb says, voice bland as he stares at the unlit candle. “I can’t do it.”

Trent Ikathon gives Astrid a sharp look. She frowns at him, fingers moving in slow anxious circles at the base of her wrist.

“Caleb?” she says.

“It’s too hard,” Caleb says. “I’m too tired. Maybe another day?”

“You did it yesterday,” Astrid hisses, face mortified. She turns to Ikathon. “I don’t know what’s the matter with him, he –”

“Work ethic,” Ikathon says, bloodless lips drawn into a thin smile. “Is just as important as raw talent.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” Caleb says, channelling his inner Caduceus. Astrid groans and buries her face into her hands.

(Twelve-year-old Caleb whispers quiet to twelve-year-old Astrid: “Don’t let them pull you in. Don’t let them change you.”

She does anyway, because she’s always been too smart to listen to Caleb, so why should she start now? Caleb watches her go and hooks fire-resistance charms into the bedrock of his house.

He does not follow her).

“I’m leaving the circus,” Yasha announces to Gustav the next day.

Molly looks over at her. “You are?”

“So is Molly,” she adds.

“I am?”

Caleb wishes that he wouldn’t look so delighted.

The problem with time travel – especially with extremely experimental and possibly accidental time travel – is that Caleb has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. He’s got some things right, at least.

“If you’re going to do this again,” Jester says, when they set out. “A little warning next time would be very much appreciated.”

“Yeah,” Fjord says. “Maybe just yell something right beforehand. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience, waking up and not seeing any of you all.”

“I was very confused,” Jester says. “My Mama was also very confused.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Molly says cheerily.

Yasha doesn’t say anything. The look that she gives him is more than enough.

“Now we just have to go and get Caduceus,” Beau says. “And we’ll be good to go. But yeah, Caleb – next time this happens, I’m going to give you more than just a broken nose if we don’t talk about it extensively beforehand.”

“Do not worry, my friends,” Caleb says. He’s almost skipping along the road, with how light he feels. “I do not think this will be necessary. Once was enough. The next time we go through my hometown, I will introduce you to my parents.”

[landofwordsandnonsense]

Why Did I Have to Know

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: Teen and Up Category: Gen Characters: Beau, Caleb Widogast Additional Tags: Introspection, Beau doesn’t know how to handle this, More than Beau wanted to know, Ep 18 spoilers, Caleb’s Backstory Part 3 of Details

Fanfic Masterpost

"You're in the most expensive inn in a hundred miles on the softest bed you've ever felt, and you're lying awake in the dark."

She never should have asked.

This was absolutely not a responsibility she wanted, but she'd done it to herself.

Fuck.

Beau laid in bed, listening to Jester's soft snoring nearby. She wished she could sleep, it would beat the hell out of staring at the fancy ceiling. For fuck's sake, woman. You're in the most expensive inn in a hundred miles on the softest bed you've ever felt, and you're lying awake in the dark.  

She shouldn't have fucking asked.

She wasn't even sure why she had, besides prying curiosity. Something in her that had to know. Sure, she could tell herself that she was just getting as much intel as she could, so she could be better prepared, or at least expecting it if things went sideways and Caleb checked out on them again. And to be fair, that was true. To an extent. But mostly, she just wanted to know.

Thus proving that Beau was a fucking idiot.

"Why are you afraid of fire?"  

It had seemed like it wasn't too big of an ask. A little pushy, a little too nosy, maybe, but ultimately harmless. And maybe for anyone else, it would have been. She had been expecting something along the lines of 'I was trapped in a burning building once' or even 'I set a building on fire'.

She should have fucking known better when he'd said that he didn't feel comfortable telling her without telling Nott. If it had been something that simple, that innocent, Nott would have already known. And she absolutely should have known fucking better when Caleb had asked if Nott would be willing to leave with him, just the two of them, right away.

"Is the secret that valuable?" Stupid of her. You don't say those sorts of things about valuable secrets. You say them about dangerous ones.

But, as mentioned, Beau was a fucking idiot. And she'd settled in, like they were school kids telling each other secrets that seemed world-shattering when you were fifteen but weren’t anything really.

Then Caleb had said "I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father." That’s when she had realized what a fucking huge mistake this was, but it was already too late. It was a story he didn't want to tell and she didn't want to hear, but once it had been started, neither could leave it unfinished.

Gods, why had he told HER? She wasn't good at... people-ing. He didn't have to go into the details, he could have just said 'My parents died in a fire', she didn't give a fuck-

That was it, she realized, lying awake hours later in the dark. She didn't give a fuck. Out of all of them, Caleb could be reasonably sure that she would have the least moral outrage to anything he could confess. And that was basically true. She had been shocked at his confession, sure... but not actually horrified by it.

(The horrified part had come later.)

She chewed on her thumbnail as she puzzled it out. He hadn't been ready, but this was Caleb, he'd never be ready. It hadn't been the right place, the right time, the right person... but this was Caleb. He wouldn't know the right place or the right time if it was wearing Molly's hideous coat and doing a pole dance on Jester's floating lollipop.

... Gods that was a weird image.

There probably would have been a better time or place to let that out, with a person who could have been more properly sympathetic... but that didn't matter, she suddenly realized. It didn't matter because Caleb had been crushed by this weight for too long, it had been slowly killing him an inch at a time for... gods. How long? How many years had he carried this secret with him? At least five. More than that, it had to be, even if he didn't really remember much about the asylum. She doubted he consciously realized that that was a secret he had to share before it destroyed him. He wasn't the sort. He kept things to himself as long as he could, sometimes longer. But he must have subconsciously known. That was why he hadn't fobbed her off with an innocent, uncomplicated half-truth. Anyone else that asked, he probably would have. But Beau's bargain, that he tell her why he was afraid of fire and she'd get him into the library to give him the push, coupled with the fact that she really didn't give a fuck about what crimes he'd committed... it wasn't anywhere close to ideal. But it had been enough.

That was absolutely not a responsibility she wanted, but fuck, she'd gotten herself into this.

The murder of Caleb's parents wasn’t the hardest part about this, although that was very clearly the worst part of the story to Caleb. To Beau, the worst part of that whole fucking nightmare was that Caleb had been bent and twisted into the fucking murder weapon. She wasn’t even sure if he could see that. Nott tried to explain it, but only ran into the brick wall of Caleb's self-hatred. And on one level, Beau could see where he was coming from. He'd calmly, and with premeditation, done something horrible. To people he loved, who loved him.

But what Beau saw, that she seriously doubted he could, was that this happened after gods only knew how long of that fucker Trent taking Caleb's mind apart and putting it back together willy nilly. Sure, that didn't mean it had been a different man who'd set that fire... but it was clearly something he never would have done if he'd been himself. The fact that he broke after proved it. If he'd really been the monster he called himself, Caleb would have walked away from that none the worse for wear.

But it was going to take someone the hell of a lot more empathetic than her to get through to him on that count. Shit, that was going to be a life's work, right there.

Nott was the better person for that part of it, she thought. Nott knew Caleb, and he might actually listen to her.

Just where the fuck did that leave Beau? She wasn't good with emotions. Give her a problem to punch, and she could do that. She'd punch the shit out of it.

Gods, she wanted to punch Trent Ikithon's face clear through the back of his skull. He'd creeped her out by his too-obvious interest in Yasha. Then she'd found out what kind of man he actually was. Fuck, what he'd done to Caleb made her sick to her stomach. And that was with Caleb glossing over how he and his fellow apprentices had been treated during their "training". "A little bit of torture and a little bit of murdering-" He'd tried to sound like it wasn't a big deal, and maybe to him, it was overshadowed by what had come later. But she could guess... and the story she'd heard tonight suggested that the reality would have been much worse than anything she could imagine. Somehow, it was always worse than you thought with Caleb.

She was fucking pissed, she realized suddenly. Pissed as fuck at that fucking monster Trent Ikithon, and pissed at the Academy that had allowed him to flourish. How many other people had he ruined? Or flat out destroyed?

"Seek out corruption. Expose it. Let the system do its job." Dairon's voice came to her unbidden, and she snorted. Sure. Right. She'd said it herself, earlier, that only Caleb knew what kind of atrocities Trent had committed, that he had a responsibility to try to put a stop to it. Yeah. That was fucking stupid, wasn't it? There was no fucking universe where trying to expose what Trent had been up to didn't come back on Caleb. At best, he'd end up back in an asylum. At worst... well. That was going to happen over her dead body. And frankly probably Nott's too.

But even if she was willing to allow that the Academy hadn't known what Trent was doing with his handpicked apprentices- and that was a damn big if- who the fuck were they going to believe? The wealthy, respected, brilliant archmage? Or the mentally ill, self-confessed murderer? Shit, the whole system was operating as designed, and it was designed so that people like Caleb would take the fall while people like Trent Ikithon prospered.

"Then break the system."  

She snorted again. Break the system. Like it was easy.

She wouldn't admit, even to herself, that the idea had merit.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Molly is dead and Beauregard wants to do something about it. Whether it’s physically possible or not doesn’t seem to matter. Caleb, luckily, is well acquainted with death, and he knows the logistics of it. In more ways than one. (ao3)

Nott reaches the body first. She doesn’t even wait for Lorenzo and his crew to be further than three-hundred feet out before she breaks away from Caleb at a full animal-like sprint that turns her into a tiny, cloaked blur. Her feet kick up a flurry of dirt and snow as she rushes to Mollymauk’s side and even from a distance Caleb can hear her saying, over and over, “No. Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

Caleb looks at Beauregard.

She’s bloody and wounded, her smooth brown skin red and cracked open in places where the frostbite from Lorenzo’s attack literally froze and split her flesh along her shoulder and bicep. Blood is running hot down her arm and dripping, steaming in the cold, off her bandaged fingers. She doesn’t seem to notice. She’s glassy-eyed and breathing hard, staring into an empty middle distance while her breath clouds the air on her lips.

As the snow falls, gathering in her short, knotted hair, and catching in her eyelashes, Caleb Widogast thinks, distantly and dispassionately, that Beauregard has never looked more dangerous or more beautiful than she does right now. She’s feral in her hatred and he can see it like writing out a new spell – inscribed it there in here dark, adrenaline-bright eyes – the narrative of her bloody-fisted and suicidal revenge story.  

He gives her a moment, just one, to breathe.

Then he says, “You better help Keg. We need to get the horses and go.”

That breaks Beau out of it.

Her eyes snap to him and for a moment there’s this… fury there in her so deep and terrible that any other day Caleb would flinch, but this day is unlike other days and the indifferent screaming hollow that has supplanted all other emotions is unmoved. He grabs her elbow and her shoulder in two hands, her frozen skin thawing under his fingers as he pushes the simplest possible warming cantrip into her blood.

“We need to move right now because that bastard, the one who killed our friend, he will expect us to sit here and bury our dead and lick our wounds but we are not going to do that.” Caleb grabs her by the shoulders, make sure she’s looking at him. “We’re going to ride around them, beat them to Shady Creek, and find some way to get our friends, back. Do you understand? Beau?”

“I got it,” she grits. “You’ll get Molly?”

Caleb’s throat closes a little, but he won’t argue this moment.

“Yes. I’ll go to Molly.”

Beau nods and rushes across the road to help Keg who is kneeling, seemingly catatonic in the road.

Caleb watches them as he walks across the road with his hands clenched at his sides. His heart hammers so hard in his throat he’s terrified the next words out of his mouth are going to be a scream. Beau is yelling something, but he can’t hear it. She’s muffled. The world muted around him suddenly and slowed – the crunch of grit and snow beneath his boots, the smell of burnt leather and blood, the sting of the wind.

Nott is kneeling next to Molly with her small green hands fisted in a part of his many-colored coat. Snow is already starting the gather on the body. Caleb forces himself not to look away, but instead kneels down beside Nott and takes in every single detail. He commits them to his near eidetic memory, though it will haunt him to do so.

He catalogs the pieces of Mollymauk’s death.

He died with his eyes open. Lorenzo’s glaive punched straight through Molly’s ribs, no doubt pinning one lung like a butterfly wing to the back of the tiefling’s chest cavity, just missing his heart. Caleb can see that because, during the kill, Lorenzo must have twistedthe blade inside Molly like a pry bar, cracking his ribs apart and wrenching them open. His plain white tunic is soaked red around the wound, snow melting into the blood. There’s blood on Mollymauk’s lips and chin where he choked it up, hemorrhaging fatally in his death throes.

It must have been agony.

There’s no suggestion of pain on his face. Death has smoothed his features. His dark purple hair is frozen against the side of his head in some places, the nape of his neck and shoulders frostbitten and cracked, just like Beau’s where he took the brunt of that cold spell across his back, trying to shield himself with his jacket. The carnival glass scimitar and the golden blade from the Labentha Swamp lay gleaming in the mud and snow. There’s a long arc of gleaming red in the snow where Lorenzo must have whipped the glaive around, throwing the last of Molly’s heartblood into the snow.

“Caleb,” Nott whispers, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it. “Molly’s dead.”

“I know.”

“Do you think he’ll just… come back? Like he did before?”

“No. Not this time.”

“Yes I… I didn’t really think he would.” Nott stares blankly down at Molly’s empty features. “Can we do anything for him?”

“No.”

Nott nods like she expected that. “Do you want to run now? Or fight?”

Caleb says nothing for a moment.

It’s time to go, he thinks, but what he does is sit forward. He reaches out gently and sets his fingertips against Molly’s eyelid’s, the tickling of eyelashes against his skin like an electric shock to his nervous-system, but he firmly draws his eyes shut. Holds there for a moment, using the faintest cooling cantrip to speed the process. Molly’s eyes stay closed then. Caleb is relieved. He thinks he would have thown up if they hadn’t.  

To Nott, he says, quietly, “I want to hunt down Lorenzo.”

“Oh good,” Nott says. She turns her head finally to look at Caleb and he can see now her strange, impish face is blank. Her yellow eyes gleam wetly in the half light of morning. “Me too. I think I would really, really like that, Caleb.”

“I’m sorry, Nott.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t hold them all.”

“No, Caleb.” Nott sounds horrified. “You did everything you could. This isn’t your –”

He hears horses approaching and turns in time to see Beau riding up fast on one of their remaining horses, galloping full speed. She dismounts at speed, yanking something off the back of the horse and it takes Caleb a moment to realize it’s the Platinum Dragon tapestry. She jogs over with it under her arm and moves to kneel on the opposite side of Molly, unrolling the tapestry on the snow and with absolutely no preamble, she crouches down, hooks her hands under Molly’s shoulders and starts pulling the body onto the would-be shroud.

“Should we bury him? Do we have time?” Nott whispers.

Beau stops then, head jerking up.

“What? We’re not fuckin’ burying him. We’re taking him with us.”

Caleb puts a hand on Nott’s shoulder before she can say anything. Beau is already tucking the tapestry around Molly’s body. She has a length of hemp rope slung over her shoulder to secure it. She brusquely takes Molly’s wrists and presses his arms against his chest, never once looking at his face while she works. There’s blood all over her hands now. She ignores it and keeps working. She sniffs, wiping her brow and leaves a red smear across her forehead but she doesn’t notice.

“Bury him,” she mutters. “Like that went so fucking good for him the first time.”

Beauregard arranges Mollymauk with the gruff impatience of a sober person dealing with a drunk. She wipes her palms on her pants, pushes Molly’s hair off his forehead, pulls the tapestry shut around his chest. As the moments tick by, Nott wordlessly looks up at Caleb but he’s frozen, his legs rooted to the earth while Beauregard wraps Mollymauk in a shining blanket of purple and platinum thread.

“Caleb,” Nott says softly, touching his wrist.

Behind them, Keg walks up with the other two horses on leads. She doesn’t say anything though. She just waits, the woman that Lorenzo spared purely to let her live with Mollymauk’s death which, honestly, suggests more about the constitution of Keg’s sensibilities than Caleb ever suspected. He feels Nott tug on his sleeve this time, staring desperately up at him. He can’t wait any more.

“Beauregard,” Caleb says at last.

“You just gonna stand there watching me, or you gonna help?”

Caleb walks over. Beau ignores him. She’s sliding and arm under Molly’s shoulders, pulling him into her arms a little, sliding the rope from her other shoulder. Caleb touches that shoulder before she can get the rope off, halting her.

“Beau, that’s enough. Stop.” He kneels beside her, slowly, like you approach a wounded animal. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of Molly now.”

Her head snaps around again.

“What the fuck does that mean?” she says, eyes burning. “You’ll take care of him? You’ll do what?”

“He’s dead, Beau.” Caleb holds her stare. “What do you think it means?”

She wrenches her arm out of his hand and shoves him, right in the chest, knocking him back so he has to catch himself with one hand. She did it so fast he didn’t see it until he was reeling. His sternum aches from the force she put behind it.

“No! Fuck you. This isn’t done. Just waita fucking second.” Her fist comes up near her head, her face screwing up in pain and rage and something animal behind her teeth. She unfurls her fingers, her eyes meeting his again. “In Zadash, at the Victory Pit, they… they brought people back from the dead. Okay? Right? Jester said… she said sometimes you can bring people back even if it’s been a while. We can do that. We go after these assholes. We go to Shady Creek. We fucking get our friends back and then we…”

“Beau,” Caleb cuts in. “No.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?” She apoplectic. “You’re a fucking wizard or whatever. You know dead isn’t always dead. Molly’s, like, already been dead once. We can still –”

“Beauregard,” Caleb interrupts yet again, speaking firmly and evenly. “We cannot prioritize Mollymauk, who is dead, over Jester, Fjord, and Yasha who are alive and in peril right this very second.”

“I’m not forgetting about them! I’m saying we don’t have to just give up! We can do both, asshole!”

“We need to leave now,” he says, staying gentle in the face of her shouting. “We can’t bring a body with us at the speeds we must move. You know that.”

“We don’t leave people behind,” Beau hisses. “That’s the fucking deal.”

That stings. It’s a barb, a knife twist. Molly’s words like nails in Caleb’s brain but just as quickly, Molly’s voice again in his head, There’ll be time for that later.

“He’s dead, Beau. And if we waste time now, his dying will be for nothing. Yasha, Fjord, and Jester will also be lost. He’s gone. We need to –”

“But he’s not gone!” Beau shouts, furious. Her grip around Molly’s shoulders gets visibly tighter, her fingers sinking into the purple and silver embroidery and fabric. “Not yet! He’s not gone unless you fucking give up on him right now and – what the fuck are you doing?”

“Move,” Caleb snaps.

He’s pulling the tapestry open, pulling Molly’s slack arm from the blanket. He takes one slim lavender wrist in his hand, ignoring the tacky stick of blood between his fingers, how cool Molly’s skin his against his. Molly’s hand is actually slimmer and more delicate than his own but creased at the palm with calluses, his fingertips scarred in tiny cuts and pricks. Caleb jostling the body has caused Molly’s head to loll against Beau’s chest and if it weren’t for the blood, he might be asleep.

“Nott. Give me a knife.”

Beau seizes his wrist before Nott can comply.

“What,” she says softly, “the fuck are you doing?”

Her grip on his wrist is so tight his feels his bones strain. He knows she can and will snap his arm like a twig if he says the wrong thing now.

“You said I’m a wizard, Beauregard.” He holds her gaze, unblinking. “You know where I trained. You know what I’m capable of and I am telling you as a student of the arcane that Mollymauk is beyond me and he is likely beyond any cleric we can reach in ten day’s time, because ten days is all we have to reasonably make any use of his body as it lies.” He waits, but Beau does not snap his arm so he goes on. “We cannot take him with us, but we don’t have to. There are other methods. More difficult, more arcane, but… you’re right. We can do both. You’re just doing it wrong, Beau.”

There’s a long, ugly, silence.

Beau’s eyes are dark, blood on her forehead, sweat frozen on her cheek.

“Are you lying to me, Caleb? Are you lying to make me leave him?” Her grip tightens, blood bruises already forming. “Because if you are and I find out later, I will break your fuckin’ jaw.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

She lets go of his wrist.

Nott, understandably wary, hands one of her knives to Caleb.

“Thank you, Nott.” Caleb settles his weight, sliding his hand from Molly’s wrist to hold his palm, using his thumb to unfurl Molly’s nerveless fingers, isolating his pinky. He shows Beau the knife. “We only need a small piece for the spell that would restore him. That’s it.”

“So just leave him here for the goddamn animals to rip apart?” Beau whispers. “That’s your plan?”

“As you said, he might prefer not to be buried again.”

“This is sick.”

“This is necessary. Do you have the stomach for it or not?”

There’s another long, agonizing silence where Caleb waits to have his jaw broken or not.

Then, “Don’t fucking cut off his pinky finger, you idiot. Gimme that.” She takes the knife from Caleb’s hand. “You always take off the pointer finger first if you gotta choose a finger. Remember that if you ever get kidnapped and some sick fuck makes you choose.” She readjusts her grip around Molly, almost protective. “And I’m not gonna watch you butcher this. Back off, noodle arms.”

“You’ll take care of it?” Caleb asks quietly.

Beau is staring down at Molly now, cradled unintentionally in her arms. Her expression is unreadable, her grip on the knife already bloody.

“I’ll take care of it,” she says.

“If we resolve this fast enough… we’ll come back this way and collect the body. I promise you.”

“Whatever,” Beau says.

Caleb has to look away when she does it.

Beauregard finishes shrouding the body. She does it with uncharacteristic gentleness, fretting small things like the corners being tucked in tight but not too tight, the ropes secure, but not so secure you could get out of them. (“Just in case,” she snaps.) She wipes blood from his face with her fingers, cursing softly, through her teeth, over and over. Her scarred-rough hands unsuited to soft work, like she’s never touched anything that carefully before in her life. Finally, they lay Mollymauk to rest at the top of one of the hills.

Ten minutes later, they move out at a gallop, speeding toward Shady Creek Run. Beauregard has a band of gold and an purple fabric around her arm, cut from the only un-bloodied part of Molly’s jacket. Caleb thinks, in the near future, she’s going to break his jaw. 

He’ll hold still for her when she does.

[the--blackdahlia]

Red Dawn Chapter 5 (SPN AU)

Title: Red Dawn Chapter 5

Summary:  Calumet, Colorado is just a normal, American town. And the Winchesters are just a normal family. Until war breaks out on their doorstep. Now, they have to fight not only for their lives, but the lives of their friends, neighbors, and all of America. Based off the Red Dawn movies.

Warnings: Language, implied sexual themes

Sam came back into the cave after some convincing from Dean. He stood behind the others as they gathered around the radio to listen to the news that was coming through. The boom box that Jimmy had grabbed probably hadn’t seen the light of day since the ‘80’s, but at that moment, it was the best thing in the entire world. Everyone was quiet, listening for the noise.

 “As a reminder straight from the White House, do not leave your homes unless absolutely necessary. The United States has enacted a civil emergency effective for all 50 states and territories. We will stay on the air with you for as long as we can in order to keep you updated on all incoming information…”

 “Dear god.” Jimmy said. “What do you think is going on out there?”

 “Nothing good, that’s for sure.” Caleb said. He looked over at Dean.

 “We need to get some sleep.” Dean said. “Sammy, I’ll come out in a few hours and take over for you, okay?” Sam nodded and headed out to his post. Dean sighed some and opened the Impala. He had slept there more than once in his life. “Lisa, if you want the backseat, you can take it.” She nodded and crawled in. Everyone found a spot to be comfortable for the night.

 But no one really slept.

 ****

 After the sun rose in the distance, everyone gathered their supplies and moved a little bit higher on the mountain, where the trees were thicker and there was a lake with decent water. If it got too cold or started to rain, they could head back to the cave or another one to keep warm and dry. Lisa watched the boys snapping sticks and kicking rocks.

 “How long do you really think we’re going to survive up here on olive and Rice Krispies?” Rufus asked. Dean looked over at him.

 “It’s food. It’ll keep us going.” He said. Rufus shook his head.

 “What else are we supposed to do?” Cas asked. “Not like we can walk into two and order from Marco’s.” Rufus sighed.

 “Rufus man, we’ll make it through this.” Caleb said. “The government is bound to send troops here soon. We just have to wait.”

 “With this administration? I highly doubt it.” Rufus said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll be lucky if they can figure out their ass from a hole in the ground.”

 “We’ve got Dean.” Bobby said. “He’s a soldier. Or was one. I trust him to keep us safe. Right Jimmy?”

 “Yeah!” Jimmy said.

 “And I’m a nurse.” Lisa commented. “So I can teach you guy’s basic first aid and CPR.”

 “I’ll volunteer for you to use me as your dummy.” Caleb said, batting his eyelashes at her. Dean rolled his eyes.

 “I know CPR. They made us learn in soccer.” Sam spoke up.

 “There, go be Sam’s dummy.” Cas laughed. Caleb punched him in the shoulder.

 “Shut up Cas.” Caleb growled. Rufus busted out laughing, watching Cas and Caleb fight just like old time. It was almost like twenty-four hours ago, their worlds weren’t turned upside down by an invasion. Or that they just left their families behind. Dean started work on a fire then. HE had grabbed some cans of soup and beans while they were at the store. The adrenaline had worn off and now he was feeling hungry. And he sure the boys and Lisa were too.

 Sam walked over after a little bit. The boys were telling embarrassing stories to Lisa, and Sam wasn’t really in the mood for that. Instead, he took up the task of finding firewood for Dean. When they were kids, John used to take Dean and Sam hiking and camping up in these very mountains. He taught them basic survival that he had learned while over in Vietnam. He taught them how to hunt, how to fish, and what natural vegetation they could eat and what to stay away from. Sam had usually gotten the task of searching for firewood while Dean and John did other things. But that was before Dean had left. John took Sam hiking once after that, but he was always too busy. Sam and the boys took it up though, and the epic parties they would throw would have made Dean proud.

 “Thanks Sammy.” Dean said, taking the bundle from Sam.

 “You know, you really don’t have to call me Sammy all the time. I’m not a twelve with baby fat anymore.” Dean looked over at his brother. He had lost quite a bit of weight since the last time Dean was home. And he had gotten a lot taller. It was only a matter of time before he bypassed Dean. All the soccer had been good for the kid. And he really was the kid of the group. He wouldn’t be 18 until right before his graduation and the only reason for that was because he skipped a grade in elementary school.

 “Eh, I like it. Been doing it for seventeen years. Why stop now?” He flashed his signature smile at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and watched the fire burn for a little bit before he spoke up again.

 “Do you think dad’s okay?” Sam asked. Dean looked over at his brother.

 “Dad’s a hard headed son of a bitch. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.” Dean said, even though he wasn’t entirely sure about that. He wanted to have faith in his dad, that he would be fine and they would all be reunited in a few days, week tops, but a nagging part in his head told him that wouldn’t be the case. But he wasn’t going to let Sam know that. Sam needed to know that everything would be okay and that his brother was going to protect him. And that they weren’t going to lose their dad too. And Sam seemed to accept Dean’s answer, because he didn’t say any more about it.

 “You think being stranded on a mountain while the country is invaded will be a good enough excuse for not returning from leave?” Sam asked with a smile. Dean laughed some.

 “Well, probably, but I’m not on leave.” Dean said. “I was actually transferred to a base in Colorado with a shiny new promotion. I’m a sergeant.” Dean said. “So I should be around more often. Even though someone is running off to California.”

 “In my defense, if the school in Texas I applied to offered me the scholarships Stanford is offering me, I’d go there too.” Sam laughed. Dean just smirked and shook his head. “I guess it won’t matter though if we’re stuck up here.”

 “We just need to wait it out.” Dean said. “I got some buddies that are going to come kick some ass and we can go home. Hell, I’ll even let you have a beer when this is all done and over with.” Sam smiled some. This was the most him and Dean had talked in a long time. They had been drifting for a while, and one day something just snapped and Sam didn’t want to be friends with his brother anymore.

 “You know they’re talking about us, right?” Sam commented, glancing over at the boys and Lisa. Dean sighed.

 “Yeah I know. Lisa’s probably asking why we’re so worried about our dad but not our mom.” Dean sighed. “I’ll talk to her later about it. Get it out of the way.” Sam nodded.

 “She’s nice.” Sam said. “Doesn’t really seem like your type though.”

 “She was for one night.” Dean said with a wink. Sam made a face.

 “That’s gross dude.” Sam shook his head.

 “I’m guessing that they’re all staying.” Dean commented. He looked at all of their supplies. “This will probably last us for long enough if you guys can keep your teenage hunger at bay.” There were leaves and grass crunching under foot as the others made their way to the fire.

 “It’s chilly.” Jimmy said. Dean nodded and scooted over by Sam, indicating for the others to take a seat. Lisa set across the fire from Dean, watching him and not even trying to hide it. Dean looked up and made eye contact with her. She was about to say something when Caleb spoke up.

 “How long do you think we’re going to be here?” Caleb asked. Dean looked up at the sky as the sound of a plane filled the air. No one spoke, like they were afraid the person piloting the plane could hear them and would come for them.

 “Hear that?” Dean asked after a second. “When we can’t hear that anymore, that’s when we can go back home.”

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