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maybeimamuppet · 1 year

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and all the devils are here (1/2)

hello everyone happy wednesday!! i hope you’re having a great one :)

this is finally a request fill for an anon who asked for veronica coming to evanston after the events of heathers (which for plot reasons happened in her junior year instead of senior year). i’ve had this one for a while (like. more than a year oops) and i’m so glad it’s finally done and ready to be shared :)) and thank you to my beloved for helping me proofread it <33

but it is a dark one!! tw for

ptsd/general mental illness

flashbacks

mentioned self harm

death

mentioned violence

abusive relationships

divorce/child custody discussions

and as always if i’ve missed anything please let me know so i can add it in !

enjoy!

—————

“Are you okay, mpendwa?” Cady asks worriedly, looking at her girlfriend’s pale face. Janis startles slightly, snapping out of her daze and back to their weekly coffee with Damian.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Cady frowns in concern and checks her forehead with a kiss. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I’m okay, Cads,” Janis chuckles. “I’m not sick.”

“But you’re acting weird,” Damian accuses, pointing his straw at her. “Spill.”

“It’s nothing,” Janis mumbles.

“It’s clearly not nothing, love,” Cady says worriedly. “You can tell us.”

“You sure?” Janis asks sheepishly. “It’s… kind of heavy, I don’t wanna bring the mood down, or whatever.”

“Noooo, of course you can tell us,” Cady says, hugging Janis’ arm. Damian nods eagerly around his mouthful of latte.

Janis takes a deep breath to prepare herself for their reaction. “Okay, um… I have a twin.”

Damian does a genuine spit take, choking slightly before spitting his coffee on the ground. “You have a what?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t know! My mom only told me yesterday,” Janis replies. It’s silent for a long moment, the tension palpable. “Caddy?”

“Sorry,” Cady says, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, like an Etch-A-Sketch. “But… what?”

“I have an identical twin,” Janis explains quietly. “Our parents divorced when we were a year old. My dad took her and moved to Ohio, and my mom kept me.”

“Oh my god, that’s why we were never allowed to watch The Parent Trap!” Damian gasps. “It all makes sense now!”

“So… why did your mom tell you now?” Cady asks. “Surely it would be easier to keep this up if you two never knew about each other?”

“She’s… um… she’s moving here,” Janis replies. Damian chokes again. “She went through… something, last year. My dad decided she needed a fresh start, and to be with Mama, I guess. So she’s moving here next week.”

“Oh,” Cady says. “How do you feel about that?”

“I dunno,” Janis mumbles. “I only found out she existed yesterday, I haven’t really processed it yet.”

Cady hums understandingly and nods. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, she’s just, like, another you. She’ll be awesome,” Damian replies.

“Technically, I’m another her,” Janis chuckles. “She’s older.”

“By how much?” Damian asks.

“Three minutes.”

“Okay, that’s manageable,” Damian nods.

“What’s her name?” Cady asks gently.

“Veronica,” Janis replies, leaning into her girlfriend for comfort.

“The hell?” Damian scoffs. “What kind of twin names are those? Veronica and Janis aren’t similar at all.”

“Dame, we’re identical, I think it’s better to give us different names,” Janis chuckles. “And my real name is more similar.”

“Your what now?”

“My name is Victoria, Damdam,” Janis chuckles. “I decided I didn’t like it when I was little and started going by my middle name.”

“You what?!” Damian splutters. “I’ve known you since we were three! How did I not know this?!”

“You never asked,” Janis shrugs. “It’s not like it matters, I’m only Victoria on paper.”

Damian cups his face in his hands and stares past his friends at absolutely nothing, looking as if everything he knows about the universe has shifted a bit. Janis turns to Cady.

“Well, this has been… interesting,” Cady giggles. “Any other life changing secrets you want to let us in on now?”

“Not at the moment,” Janis hums. Cady kisses her forehead.

“Alright, well, if you think of something.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Janis agrees with a chuckle. “D, you good?”

“He hasn’t blinked in two minutes.”

—————

“Love, it’ll be fine,” Cady comforts as Janis is pacing around her bedroom. “You might not get along right away, sure, but you’re sisters. Twins, even. I’m sure she’ll be as wonderful as you are.”

“What if she’s better than me?” Janis asks, pausing her pacing and turning to look at her girlfriend in worry. “What if you like her better?”

“Janis,” Cady sighs, reaching out for her. Janis plops into her lap and cuddles in with a whine. “I love you. Not her. Just because you’re identical twins doesn’t mean you’re the same person. You didn’t even grow up together. She probably acts different, she might look a little different, who knows. I only want you. I don’t even know her. I know you. I love you. You don’t have to worry about her being ‘better’. You’re great as you are, and I’m sure she is too. In different ways. And I only want this way. Your way. Okay?”

Janis nods, but doesn’t say anything. Damian returns then, armed with the snacks he’d been sent to fetch from their kitchen. “I’m back and I have food!”

Janis anxiously rips into the package of Oreos and cracks one open, nibbling all the filling out of the middle in a spiral.

“What happened?” Damian asks knowingly.

“I’m about to meet someone who, in theory, looks and acts exactly like me,” Janis replies. “Surely you, of all people, understand why that’s terrifying?”

“Oh. Yeah, fair point,” Damian nods. “You’ll always be the better twin to us.”

“Thanks,” Janis snorts.

The doorbell rings. Janis tenses.

“Now or never,” Cady says gently. “We’re right here.”

Janis takes a deep breath and nods, padding slowly out of her room and down the stairs. Damian and Cady follow, but linger on the staircase to give them a bit of privacy.

Janis walks in on her mom in tears, holding a blue form as tight as she possibly can and murmuring something Janis can’t make out. A short girl in a pink sweatshirt and an only slightly taller one dressed all in yellow stand by the door, looking about as awkward witnessing this as Damian and Cady do.

“Victoria?”

Janis whirls around when she hears it. She’s seen photos of her dad. He sent a card to her every birthday and every Christmas. And here he is. In the flesh.

“Uh… hi,” she stutters quietly. “It’s Janis now.”

“That’s what I wanted to name you in the first place,” her dad chortles. Janis tenses as she’s suddenly pulled into a hug so tight she can hardly breathe. She sinks into the embrace after barely a minute and hugs her father back. “God, you’re tall.”

Janis laughs. Or maybe she’s crying, she can’t be quite sure. Probably both.

Her dad pulls away and holds her face in his large, warm hands. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Janis smiles a bit, still not totally sure what to make of the whole situation.

“Cool hair,” her dad says thickly.

“Thanks,” Janis chuckles, wiping her eyes with a sniffle.

Her mother lets go of her sister at around the same time, and the two turn to face each other. Their jaws drop in exactly the same way.

“Holy shit,” Cady whispers from the stairs.

Janis and Veronica are almost exactly identical.

They have the same face, though Janis’ is coated in her usual dark makeup, while Veronica doesn’t seem to have anything on beyond maybe a lip gloss. Their natural hair color is the same, but Veronica’s is in a barely tamed puff cropped to her shoulders, while Janis has her long blonde ends and just a slight wave caused by probable years of bleach damage.

Their clothes are wildly different, too. Janis is in a pretty casual outfit; a black sweater, denim shorts and some footless fishnets. Veronica has on a blue short-sleeved sweatshirt and some plain dark jeans.

But the most noticeable difference is how they carry themselves.

They have exactly the same build, they’re the same height and everything down to maybe a centimeter at most. But while Janis stands tall, proud to fill the space she does, Veronica seems to be trying to make herself as small as possible. There’s something haunted in her eyes, something that isn’t there in Janis’ matching ones. Veronica looks like she’s trying to make herself totally invisible. Like if she hunches in on herself enough the world might just swallow her whole.

“That’s my face,” Janis accuses unthinkingly. “I mean, uh…”

“Hey,” Veronica greets gently.

“Hey,” Janis echoes. “I’m Janis.”

“Veronica,” her twin says. They can hear one of the girls that came with her smack her hand against her forehead as Veronica sheepishly reaches out a hand for Janis to shake. “Mac, shut up! I’m nervous!”

“She’s your twin, Ronnie! Hug her!” the girl in yellow huffs.

“This works for me,” Janis shrugs instead. She takes her sister’s hand and gives it a solid shake before letting go. Veronica flinches slightly when she says that. What happened to her?

“Well, we’ll let you kids go get to know one another,” their father says kindly, shooing the lot of them up the stairs. Janis blinks at her mom for a moment, checking to make sure this is what she should do. Her mother nods and points to Cady and Damian. Janis sheepishly gestures for the rest of her crew to follow her upstairs.

Veronica and her little posse look around almost in awe at Janis’ room. Doodles cover every square inch of wall (and ceiling, now that she’s run out of room), along with alien posters and photos of her favorite people. The color scheme is dark, but it’s still quite cozy.

Cady pulls Janis into her lap on the bed and hooks her chin over her shoulder. Veronica and Yellow Girl sheepishly sit down at the foot of Janis�� bed, while Pink Girl stands aimlessly next to them. Damian flops on the ground and lies spread eagle, like he normally does.

It’s silent for a few minutes before he finally pipes up. “Alright, fuck this. Hi, I’m Damian, Janis’ best friend and token homosexual. And I hate silence.”

“Me too!” Yellow Girl exclaims. “Oh, I’m Heather. Ronnie’s girlfriend.”

“I thought your name was Mac?” Cady says, tilting her head in confusion.

“That’s a nickname,” Heather explains. “I’m not the only Heather we know. There are- were- three of us. So we go by our last names, most of the time. Mine’s McNamara, so… Mac.”

“Oh,” Cady says with a nod. “Cool! I’m Cady. I’m Janis’ girlfriend.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow at Janis. Janis mirrors her and says, “Lesbian.”

“Bi,” Veronica hums. Janis gives an approving nod.

“Her too.”

“Nice!” Veronica cheers, giving Cady a fist bump. Cady laughs and reaches to tap their hands together.

“What about you?” she asks, looking to Pink Girl.

“Huh? Oh! I’m Martha. I’ve been Veronica’s best friend since we were babies,” Martha says. “Or since diapers, as she so eloquently likes to put it.”

“We were two when we met, that’s not a baby! That’s a toddler,” Veronica defends. “But we were still in diapers.”

“Whatever you say,” Martha chuckles.

“I do say,” Veronica insists.

“It makes sense to me,” Janis says with a laugh. Veronica’s eyes widen when she realizes they have the exact same laugh. Janis mirrors the expression. She doesn’t know why, since they’re identical twins, but she really wasn’t expecting them to be so similar.

“You guys are really similar,” Mac says with a giggle.

“We’re twins,” Janis and Veronica explain at the same time. Everyone laughs.

“We should see if you guys have twin telepathy or something,” Cady says.

“Oh, yeah!” Mac agrees eagerly.

“Come on, let’s go get some stuff,” Cady says. She and Mac go rushing off to find… something, leaving the other four blinking at the door.

“Should we be worried?” Veronica asks quietly.

“I think our girlfriends are more similar than we are,” Janis responds.

“At least they get along,” Veronica says, tilting her head in confusion.

“Martha, do you like musicals?” Damian asks, making conversation in the best way he can while they wait for Cady and Mac to return.

“I love musicals!” Martha says eagerly. “Especially the happy ones.”

“Can you stay forever?” Damian asks longingly. “Janis never watches bootlegs with me.”

“We watched one this morning,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes.

“To distract you from your nerves!” Damian retaliates. “If I want to watch one any other time I have to get Cady to do her eyes on you.”

“Hey, that’s what I have to do with Mac to get Veronica to watch with me!” Martha giggles. “Man, you guys really are twins.”

“I like the gritty ones,” Veronica says. “And the ones based on books. Like Les Mis.”

“That’s what we watched!” Damian says. Veronica turns to look at her sister.

“You watched Les Misèrables to distract you from your nerves?”

“Yeah,” Janis says like it’s obvious. “Caddy wanted to watch Frozen, so… lesser of two evils.”

“Frozen is fantastic!” Damian says.

“The Lion King is better,” Martha says.

“Do not say that in front of Caddy,” Janis insists. “She makes us watch that at least once a week.”

“Mac always makes us watch Bring it On,” Veronica chuckles affectionately. “Says it gives her ideas. She’s captain of the cheer squad.”

“Caddy’s from Kenya,” Janis says as an explanation for Cady’s love of The Lion King.

“Really?” Martha asks in shock. “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah,” Janis says, feeling herself blush at the mere mention of her girlfriend. “My safari explorer. Mac’s thing is cool too.”

“Thanks,” Veronica snorts.

Mac and Cady return armed with armfuls of various things as Martha and Damian get into a deep discussion about The Princess Bride, already comfortable with each other enough to cuddle up sitting side by side on the ground.

“Oh, I love The Princess Bride!” Cady says when she hears what they’re talking about. She and Mac drop their armfuls of things on Janis’ bed.

“We can never leave this place,” Martha says. “I found my people.”

“What about us?” Veronica asks indignantly.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Martha responds. Veronica just rolls her eyes with a faint smile.

“Everyone seems to be bonding except us, Janis,” she says.

“We gotta do science!” Mac says. Veronica and Janis pull the same slightly frightened expression.

“What are you gonna do to us?” Janis asks in concern.

“It’ll be fun!” Cady says.

“That’s what you said when you brought me to visitors’ day at your math camp,” Janis snorts.

“Are you saying it wasn’t?”

“Only because you let me sneak you away so we could make out in the woods,” Janis says. Cady humphs. Janis chuckles and says, “Do your worst.”

“Damian, Martha, can you guys hold this up?” Mac asks, grabbing a large black sheet.

“Sure,” Damian says, pausing their discussion. “Why?”

“So they can’t see each other,” Cady explains. Damian takes one end and Martha takes the other, holding it up as a barrier between Janis and Veronica as they hesitantly take seats on the ground.

“Okay, round one,” Mac says. “Think of… a color, and then when we count down you’ll say it at the same time.”

“Why can’t we see each other, then?” Veronica asks.

“That’s for later. And for the effect,” Mac explains. “Ready?” Both twins nod. “Three… two… one…”

“Blue,” Veronica says.

“Purple,” Janis says at the same time. Cady and Mac both deflate a bit.

“Okay, so you have different favorite colors,” Cady says. “That’s fine. Now think of a… a number.”

“Any number?” Janis asks.

“Uh… between one and fifteen, we’ll say,” Cady says. The twins nod. “Three… two… one…”

“Eight,” they both say. Mac and Cady squeal happily and hug each other.

“It worked!” Mac says.

“Once, Mac,” Veronica chuckles. “You and Cady could probably do the same thing.”

“So we’ll do it again!” Mac says eagerly. “Now think of any number. Any one at all.”

“Okay,” Veronica chuckles. Mac gives them a countdown. “Nine hundred and thirty four.”

Janis doesn’t think of one in time and barely manages to stutter, “Uh… six.”

“Janis isn’t the best with numbers,” Cady explains.

“Hey!”

“Name a holiday,” Cady says, changing the subject effortlessly. “Three… two… one…”

“Halloween,” they both say. Cady and Mac dance around again.

“Now… now… uh…”

“Cake flavor!” Mac blurts.

“Oh, yeah, that’s good!” Cady says. She counts them down.

Janis says, “Chocolate.”

Veronica says, “I don’t really like cake.”

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Cady says. “Let’s do this.”

She rests a few different snacks in front of each of them. A small tube of pringles, a pack of cookies, and some pretzels.

“Pick one,” Mac says. They both observe their choices before making their pick. Martha and Damian move the sheet so they can see each other and reveal that they both chose the chips. “Yay!”

She grabs the snacks from them to set up the next round. “Hey, wait, we don’t get to eat ‘em?”

Cady rolls her eyes and hands the chips back. Janis and Veronica munch happily while some video games get rested in front of them. The boxes for Janis, and the actual disks for Veronica. Damian and Martha obediently hoist the sheet back up. They get a few seconds to make their choice before the sheet is dropped again. Mac and Cady cheer when they see they both chose Mario Kart.

“They’re having more fun with this than us,” Veronica chuckles.

“That’s why I’m still doing it,” Janis responds.

“Such devoted girlfriends,” Damian says.

“You’re a good sheet holder, Dame,” Janis says, looking up at him as her options are swapped out for the next round; candies.

“Thank you! I’ve had lots of practice on the fly crew,” Damian says. He drops it again as they both make their choice. Cady and Mac make yet another ridiculous sound as they see they both chose Sour Patch Kids.

“That’s three in a row,” Martha points out. Cady and Mac squeal again. “Why is this so fun for you?”

“Because it’s cool!” Cady and Mac say at the same time.

“Maybe we should be doing this with you guys instead,” Janis chuckles.

“Ooh, yeah,” Mac says. “We’ll go next. Okay, last round, ready?”

“Sure,” the twins sigh at the same time. Much like the video games, some movies are rested in front of them. They pick their choice and the sheet is dropped for the final time. You’d think Mac and Cady just won the Superbowl with their own bare hands, the way they react to seeing they both picked a Barbie ballet movie from their childhoods.

“This is fun,” Martha says happily.

“But you’re just holding a sheet,” Mac giggles.

“I’m just happy to be here, honestly,” Martha chuckles. “Your turn?”

“Yeah!” Cady says.

As it turns out, everyone has about the same success rate. Martha and Damian go a round after Cady and Mac. The girls are visibly trying to hide their disappointment at their very scientific experiments on the twins being disproven before their eyes. At least it was still a fun game.

Veronica’s crew isn’t leaving until the next day, so they have the best sleepover ever. Making brownies with entirely too many people in the kitchen, playing video games way too late into the night, binge watching tons of movies and munching on ungodly amounts of snacks.

Janis keeps looking at her twin. Veronica keeps looking back. She has to imagine they’re looking for the same thing. Themselves, in each other. Is that what I look like when I focus? When I laugh, when I smile, when I talk? Is that what I sound like? Is that what I walk like?

Eventually, they all settle in various spots in Janis’ bedroom since Veronica’s isn’t quite… habitable, yet. Veronica and Mac snuggle up inside a sleeping bag, Cady joins Janis in her bed, and Martha and Damian, evidently feeling left out, snuggle together in their own sleeping bags like some strange caterpillar cuddle party.

They stay up late talking and laughing and bonding, but eventually, they all fall asleep.

—————

Unfortunately, Janis and Veronica’s father, Mac, and Martha do have to go home eventually. They came to see Veronica off and help her settle the slightest bit into her new home, but they have their own lives to get back to in Ohio.

Janis does her best to hide it, but she’s honestly miffed about her dad having to leave so soon. This is the first time she’s gotten to see him in person since she was a year old, and she barely got a full night with him.

He spends the morning with her, at least. Mac and Martha help Veronica unpack and start getting her room set up while Janis plays checkers with her dad and they watch a few movies together.

After lunch, it’s time to say goodbye. It’s a long drive from Evanston to Sherwood, and they want to get back before dark.

Cady and Damian already made sure everyone had each other’s phone numbers. Janis gives Mac and Martha quick hugs before she wraps herself as hard as she can around her dad. He murmurs comfort into her hair as he hugs her back and lets Veronica handle her goodbyes to her friend and girlfriend.

“You’ll do great here,” Mac says louder than she thinks she does. “Call me every night, okay?”

“More than that,” Veronica agrees with a sniffle. Janis wonders what could’ve possibly happened to her that would mean leaving her loved ones behind is the best option.

“I hope things are easier for you here,” Martha says as she hugs her best friend tightly.

“Me too.”

With last hugs and a kiss between Veronica and Mac, the door closes and they’re both left alone, staring silently at the backside of the dark wood.

“…You wanna go watch that Barbie movie?” Janis asks after a few minutes. Veronica sniffles and nods.

“Yeah. I do.”

—————

Janis is lounging in her room about a week later, doomscrolling various social medias on her phone and playing a few games.

She jumps when she hears a frustrated growl come from the next room over. Veronica did mention wanting to get started sorting her room out today.

Janis sits up and heads into the room. “You good?”

“I have too much shit,” Veronica grumbles, kicking a box a couple inches away from her and growling again at the new pain in her foot.

“Need help?” Janis asks.

Veronica looks up at her like she’s an angel descended from the heavens. “Can you help me get all the boxes into the hall so I can paint?”

“Sure,” Janis says with a nod. She’s not really dressed for it; with her usual tights and shorts combo and a tank top, but it leaves her with enough mobility just to do something like this.

With the two of them working together, all the boxes are moved out of the way within five minutes. Janis suddenly finds herself wishing she’d always had a twin to help with chores. Things would’ve gone much faster.

“I can help paint, if you want,” Janis offers as they both suck down water in the kitchen. It might’ve been fast, but it was still heavy work, and they’re both more exhausted than they care to admit.

“Yeah, sure, if you want to,” Veronica says. Janis gets the feeling some of her nonchalance is feigned. She remembers what it was like painting her bedroom with her mom. She can’t leave her twin to do that alone.

“Let me change, I’ll be right back.”

Janis heads back up to her own bedroom and changes into an old pair of shorts and tshirt of her mother’s. She grabs her phone to play music while they work and heads back to Veronica’s room.

Veronica comes back from the kitchen with several bottles of water and some snacks. Janis helps her cover all the furniture in plastic and tape over the baseboards and outlets. Veronica hands her a roller, cracks open a can of cream colored paint, and pours some into a tray.

They work in silence for the first little while. They’re still getting used to each other, and Cady was very much right in that they are different people. They still don’t really know how much they have in common; how much they’ll be able to relate to each other. They don’t even really know what interests they have in common.

“Is that Mom’s shirt?” Veronica asks after a while.

“Yeah,” Janis says. “Is that Dad’s?”

“Yeah,” Veronica responds.

They’re quiet again. Janis takes to doing a second coat on her walls. “Are you gonna leave them all this color?”

“I dunno,” Veronica says. “I was thinking about an accent wall, but I don’t really know what I’d want to do with it. And I have absolutely no artistic talents.”

“That’s weird,” Janis snorts.

“Who did all the stuff in your room?”

“Me,” Janis says. Veronica whirls around to look at her and accidentally splashes her with some paint.

“Shit, sorry,” Veronica says. Janis laughs and swipes the paint away from her eyes. “You do art?”

“Yeah,” Janis says, taking a paper towel to scrub the rest of the paint off her face. Or, more accurately, as much as she can get off. “I’ve always, like, doodled and stuff. And I really liked art class. And then I went to art therapy in middle school and it kind of just… stuck, from then on.”

“Huh,” Veronica says. She doesn’t even acknowledge that she heard the art therapy statement. Janis is almost glad for it. This might be her twin, but they’re still practical strangers. She’s not sure when they’ll be able and willing to talk about stuff like that. “That’s cool. I’ve always sucked at it.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Janis shrugs. “I could do an accent wall for you if you decide what you want.”

“Really?” Veronica asks. “You’d do that?”

“Sure,” Janis says. “I don’t do, like, landscapes super well, but I can do doodle-type stuff if you want. Some pattern or something.”

Veronica takes a minute to look at the drying paint on the wall next to the door. “Could you do flowers?”

“Yeah, totally,” Janis says. “What kind?”

“…Blue,” Veronica says. “I don’t really know.”

“Veronicas?” Janis jokes. “They’re blue.”

Veronica shoots her a weird look. “Veronica’s a flower?”

“Yeah,” Janis says. She grabs her phone and googles them to show her sister. Some of them are a sort of strange tube shape and look like something out of a science fiction film, but others simply look like a sweet, delicate blossom. She’s not entirely sure which ones fit her sister more.

“Oh, I like those,” Veronica says. She points to one example.

“I can do that if you want,” Janis says. Veronica nods.

“That’d be cool. Thanks, Janny.”

“Sure, Vera,” Janis says with a smile. “Let me go get my stuff.”

Janis keeps her smile as she goes to fetch the leftover colors her mom had let her buy when she was doing her own bedroom and some smaller brushes.

She’s more excited than she thinks she should be. Out of everything, flowers are actually one of her favorite things to paint. Cady’s the only one who knows, since Janis paints her flowers from time to time instead of buying bouquets that’ll die in a few weeks. It doesn’t fit with the image Janis has tried so hard to build and maintain, so she keeps it to herself. But now she gets to do a whole wall of them for her sister.

They actually talk the whole time Janis works, while Veronica gets started putting some more furniture together. Janis doesn’t even notice that they never wound up playing music after all.

Her sister is easy to talk to, and soon, the wall is covered in sweet blue blossoms that match Veronica’s blue accents perfectly. They both flop onto the newly-made bed and look around at their masterpiece.

“Thanks for helping me.”

“Anytime.”

—————

The dreaded night finally arrives. The last before the first day of school.

Janis is already nervous just about going back. Things changed a lot over the summer, but she’s still not exactly looking forward to dealing with the Plastics and the jocks and other assorted cliques of North Shore. Add in all the other nerves that come with starting senior year, and Janis is a wreck.

Veronica, on the other hand, is surprisingly calm. Janis can’t tell if it’s a facade or if she’s genuinely not concerned by what they’ll face tomorrow. Maybe this being a new start for her is actually working.

Their backpacks sit ready by the front door, their outfits laid out on their dressers and their respective makeup products on their shared bathroom counter. Janis has many, many more products than her sister. At least they’ll be easy to tell apart.

“You girls excited for tomorrow?” their mom asks over their dinner.

“No,” Janis says.

“Yeah,” Veronica says at the same time. They both turn to each other and pull the same weirded out face.

“It’s school,” Janis says, as if Veronica had forgotten that somehow.

“Yeah, exactly,” Veronica says. “New books. New pens. Meeting teachers. Books.”

“But school,” Janis reiterates. “Stress and other kids. And stress.”

Veronica just shrugs and returns to her mashed potatoes. Both of them say, “Weirdo.” at the same time. “Stop it! You stop it!”

Their mother rolls her eyes, but the clearly delighted smile gives away her true feelings about having the two of them back together. “Both of you hush up and eat. You need to be getting to bed soon.”

“Ugh,” Janis grumbles, stabbing into her potatoes.

—-

They do a last check of their things and take their turns in the shower. Janis takes a minute to FaceTime Cady while she does her favorite face mask. They hang up around ten, since Cady gets grumpy without enough sleep. She has a very strict bedtime even in the summer.

Janis bumps into Veronica on her way to get a bottle of water for her nightstand. Veronica’s sipping on some sleepy time tea and staring out the kitchen window into the backyard. She’s chatting with someone. Janis was expecting to see their mother, but Veronica’s alone.

“Hey,” Janis greets.

Veronica jumps when she hears her and turns around, almost spilling her tea. She relaxes when she sees it’s just Janis standing there. “Hey.”

“Sorry. Who were you talking to?”

“Nobody,” Veronica says immediately. “Uh… myself. I talk to myself a lot. I know it’s weird.”

Janis just shrugs. Things between them are still quite awkward. It’s always weird to see a walking version of your reflection hanging out in your house, but they’re slowly getting used to having the other around.

“I don’t think so, I do it too, sometimes. I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” Janis says once she has her water.

“Goodnight,” Veronica says. Hesitantly, shakily, she reaches to offer a hug. Janis smiles faintly and leans in, giving her twin a squeeze. Neither of them are huge on physical contact (unless you ask Cady or Mac), but being close to the other is surprisingly calming for the both of them. Must be a twin thing or something. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Janis says. She gives Veronica a final squeeze and pads off to bed.

——-

She’s not expecting to be awoken by the sounds of screaming. She’s confused at first, until she puts together what the muffled sounds coming through the wall are and bolts upright. Her phone shows that it’s barely two in the morning when she checks it.

She stands up and tries to run in to help and see what’s going on. She freezes in the doorway when her mother does the same and shuts Veronica’s door in her face. This is clearly something Janis isn’t supposed to know about. Doesn’t mean she can’t snoop anyway.

She stands to the side of the door so they can’t see her shadow blocking the light coming through beneath it and does her best to breathe as quietly as she can possibly manage.

It’s hard to make out specific words through the door. All Janis can really put together is Veronica sobbing hysterically about, “My fault” and “They’re gone” and various other things Janis can’t hear. Her mother is desperately trying to hush and comfort her.

Eventually, she’s successful, and Janis has to quickly rush back to her room to avoid being caught snooping. She tosses herself into bed and feigns sleep when her mother pops in to check on her as well. She hears a relieved sigh before she decides to go back to sleep for real.

What is going on?

————-

It’s weird, having another person there as Janis gets herself ready. Every once in a while her mom will have a later shift and they get to have breakfast together or something, but having another her walking around her house is still odd.

They have a fun moment in the mirror before they both do their makeup, trying to see how similar they look without any products. Their hair is still very different, but their faces are almost frighteningly similar.

They get dressed on their own, obviously, but they go downstairs at the same time for breakfast. Their mom took the day off so she’d be available to make them breakfast, drop them off, and pick them up from school. She’s always done it for Janis, but this is the first, and unfortunately probably the last, time she’ll get to do it for the both of them.

They try their best to wake up as they munch slowly on their pancakes. They’re delicious, as always, but it’s also barely seven in the morning. Too early to go much faster.

With a last double check of their backpacks, they’re out the door. Veronica looks anxiously at the large building when they arrive as it looms in front of them. Janis isn’t faring much better.

She offers Veronica her hand. They’ll probably get some weird looks, but Janis thinks they could both use the comfort of each other for a little while. Being close is strangely calming for the two of them.

They head to the office first to pick up their schedules and locker assignments. Their lockers are right next to each other, and their schedules are similar. They’re not exactly the same, but they have a few classes together.

“You can have lunch with me if you want. Since you already, y’know. Know me. And Caddy and Damian,” Janis says as they walk to their locker. Veronica nods.

“Everyone’s staring,” Veronica says.

“Own it, bitch,” Janis says. “But, yeah. I’m kind of infamous. And… now there’s two of me.”

“Why not two of me?” Veronica asks. They open their lockers and shove their afternoon books inside.

“Hey, Janis,” Regina greets as she approaches. “Cool outfit.”

Regina hasn’t actually seen Janis yet. She came from Veronica’s side. Veronica obviously doesn’t respond, as she’s not Janis. Janis steps surreptitiously behind Regina and says, “Thanks.”

Regina whirls around to see none other than Janis, giving her that usual cocky grin.

“What- but…”

Janis’ smile grows when Regina gives her a look of absolute horror that just says dear god they’re multiplying.

“How did-”

“This is Veronica,” Janis says. “My twin sister.”

“Your what now?”

“My twin,” Janis says. “She just moved here.”

“We got Parent Trap’ed,” Veronica explains. “Hey.”

“Uh… hi,” Regina says. Veronica offers a hand, which Regina hesitantly shakes. “I gotta… go to class. Bye.”

“She seems well-adjusted,” Veronica chuckles as they head off towards the math wing. Veronica has calculus and Janis has environmental science. Their classrooms are one right on top of the other, so they walk together.

“Getting hit by a bus apparently kind of rearranges your priorities,” Janis shrugs. “Among other things.”

“She got hit by a bus?”

“At the end of last year, yeah,” Janis says. “Long story. This is the first I’ve seen of her without her spinal halo.”

“Damn,” Veronica says. “This me?”

Janis checks her sister’s schedule. “Think so. You want me to meet you after?”

“Just for today, maybe?” Veronica says sheepishly. “And maybe just to, y’know. Give people time to adjust to there being two of us?”

“Sure. Have fun in math,” Janis teases. Veronica sticks her tongue out before she heads into class.

—-

They have second period psychology together. Janis waits outside Veronica’s classroom for her so they can walk together.

Janis had the same teacher last year for her politics class. His eyes widen the slightest bit when he sees her and her apparent clone walk through his door. “Hey, Janis. And… Janis the second. Nice to see you back.”

“Hey, Mr. Kent,” Janis says. “This is my sister, Veronica.”

“You have a twin?”

“No, what do you mean?” Janis says. “Kidding. Yeah. She’s new.”

“I figured,” their teacher chuckles. “Welcome to North Shore High.”

“Thanks,” Veronica says.

“Janis, no pulling switcheroos on me. Uh…”

“Veronica,” she supplies.

“Veronica, you can sit wherever you’d like. Today should be pretty chill,” their teacher says. Veronica nods. She can see why this is one of Janis’ favorite teachers. “You guys should be helpful for the twins unit.”

“We’re not your lab rats, Mr. Kent,” Janis chuckles.

“For now.”

Veronica laughs and looks around. A few really early kids have taken some seats. Veronica picks one in the front row towards the middle so she can see the board. “Ew, you’re sitting in the front row?”

“What’s wrong with the front row?” Veronica chuckles as she pulls out her notebook and pen.

“Everything,” Janis grunts as she sits directly behind her.

“Don’t whine to me when you can’t see the board.”

“I’m not blind, Vera.”

“For now.”

“The hell does that mean?!”

—————

Lunch is… interesting. Janis hasn’t felt this many eyes on her since eighth grade. Cady notices how tense both she and Veronica are and suggests they eat in the ‘back building’.

It’s still weird sitting with the Plastics. They had lunch together a few times after they reconciled-ish at Spring Fling, but old habits die hard. Karen and Gretchen are already outside when they walk up. Karen leans into her girlfriend and stage whispers, “Am I crazy or are there two Janis’?”

“I don’t know,” Gretchen whispers back.

“Where’s the back building?” Veronica asks, looking around for it as Janis sits on the ground.

“It burnt down in 1987,” Janis says. “Sit.”

Veronica shrugs and hesitantly sits down next to her sister. Cady sits on Janis’ other side and greets her with a kiss.

“How’s your day been?” she asks as she pulls her sandwich out of her lunch box.

“Not bad, for school,” Janis says.

“Do you two have any classes together?”

“Psychology,” they say at the same time. “And photography.”

“Cool,” Cady nods.

Gretchen and Karen are still staring at the twins. Janis suddenly remembers they forgot to introduce Veronica. “Oh. This is Veronica. We’re twins. She just moved here.”

Damian and Regina walk up as Gretchen and Karen start asking a flurry of questions. Janis and Veronica field the ones they’re comfortable with and respectfully don’t answer the few that they aren’t. Mostly to do with Veronica’s past and why she moved to Evanston.

Regina still seems like one of her most haunting nightmares has come true, but she’s polite and even friendly to the both of them as they eat. Veronica seems a bit more comforted having Damian and Cady around in addition to her sister. By the end of their fifteen minute lunch, she thinks she’s found a solid group of new friends.

—-

“Hi, girls,” their mom greets as they clamber into the car in the pickup line. Veronica got the front seat on the way to school, so Janis gets it on the way home. “How was school?”

“Good,” they say at the same time.

“Have any homework?”

“No.”

“You teenagers and your one word answers,” their mother tuts as she pulls out of the parking lot and takes them home. “Veronica, did you make any friends?”

“Yeah,” Veronica says quietly with a faint smile. “Yeah, I think I did.”

—————

“Girls?” their mother asks a few months later as she enters the living room where Janis and Veronica are lounging side by side on the couch. They look up at her at exactly the same time.

“Yeah?”

“Stop doing that,” their mother says with a flustered wave of her hand. “I got called in for the overnight shift tonight. Are you two gonna be okay here by yourselves?”

“Mama, we’re almost eighteen,” Janis says. “We’re big kids.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” their mom mutters under her breath. “Veronica. You… you think you’ll…”

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Veronica says quietly. “It’s been a good day, I don’t think it’ll happen tonight.”

Janis is confused, but she doesn’t push. They both have their own stuff going on. Not everything has to be shared between them. Even if they are identical twins.

“Alright. Call me if anything happens,” their mother says, kissing both their foreheads. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” they both call after her as she gathers her things and leaves. They lock eyes then and smile in exactly the same way.

Time to go wild.

Of course, wild for them is… a bit different than what they think most kids their age would get up to.

A movie in the background, every unhealthy snack in their kitchen to gorge on, and some homework they need to catch up on. They did sneak a bottle of their mom’s wine to split between them, but that’s about as crazy as it gets. They’ve both had plenty of wild party days already.

“Do you get this chapter at all?” Janis asks after twenty minutes of staring at the same question on her English homework.

“Yeah,” Veronica says. “Do you get this math assignment?”

“Caddy will,” Janis says.

“Switch?” Veronica asks. Janis nods, so she passes over her worksheet. Janis hands over her copy of Paradise Lost and her English notebook. Veronica dives right in to answer the question in Janis’ messy handwriting while Janis pulls out her phone to text her girlfriend for help.

“We should do this for tests,” Janis says. “I might’ve passed my last English exam if you’d have been around.”

“Yeah, and then what would I be stuck with?” Veronica snorts. “How are you still so bad at English if you read so much?”

“Shut up, I’m dyslexic!” Janis humphs.

“You are?” Veronica asks. Janis nods. Veronica’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I only got into reading so much because of Martha,” Veronica explains. “She read all these dumb romance novels in middle school.”

“And got you hooked on ‘em?” Janis snorts.

“Shut up,” Veronica says, blushing a brilliant shade of pink. “But… I hated reading when I was a kid because it was always too hard.”

“Dad didn’t get you checked out?” Janis asks quietly.

“I never said anything,” Veronica shrugs. That’s one difference between them. As soon as Janis has a problem she will yell about it to anyone who’ll listen to her. “I did well enough in school that it just never came up, I guess.”

“Wait, then how are you so good at English if we’re both dyslexic?”

“I don’t think the dyslexia is the problem, Jan,” Veronica snorts.

“Hey!” Janis huffs. “I’m helping you with your math.”

“By having a smart girlfriend,” Veronica accuses.

“Exactly! How could I have gotten such a brilliant girl if I’m not smart?” Janis says.

“Because she took pity on you,” Veronica says dryly. “I never said you’re not smart.”

“You so did.”

“I just said you’re dumb. You can be both.”

“…What?”

“Look at me. I have all A’s and one B and I still opened the fridge directly into my face,” Veronica explains.

“That’s how you got that black eye?!” Janis cackles.

“Yes. Now text your girl toy, I need help,” Veronica huffs as she scratches down the last word of Janis’ homework.

“Fine. Meanie.”

“Loser,” Veronica retaliates. They both stick their tongues out at each other before they burst into giggles.

—-

After a phone call to Cady so Veronica can actually finish her math homework, they both sprawl on the floor of their living room side by side and stare up at the ceiling in a wine-drunk haze.

“What was Mom like when you were little?” Veronica asks completely out of nowhere.

“Uh… she was cool,” Janis says. “She worked a lot, but she always made time for me. We’d always make dinner together and talk about stuff. And she made up the best games. I know it was really rough on her being a single mom, but she… never let that on. She just… loved me. Showed it.”

“Hm,” Veronica hums pensively. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. She’s great,” Janis says softly. “What was Dad like?”

“He’s always been such a dork,” Veronica snorts. “He loves crossword puzzles and those terrible mystery novels. But he somehow can never guess the endings. He used to carry me everywhere on his shoulders. And he’d always join whenever Martha and I had tea parties.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He wore the tutus and everything,” Veronica chuckles. “He was great. He spent a lot of time making sure I got along with Alice and she treated me well before he even thought of marrying her and stuff. I used to think he could fix anything. He was my superhero.”

“Are you ever mad at them for what they did to us?” Janis asks quietly. Veronica mulls this over before she nods.

“Sometimes,” she agrees. “Are you?”

“Sometimes,” Janis echoes. “I spent a lot of time alone as a kid. I think having my twin there would’ve made things a lot easier. And I always thought it was my fault dad could never come visit. I just thought he never wanted to.”

“I thought mom didn’t want me either,” Veronica says. “He never explained why she couldn’t come see me.”

“Mom never really did either,” Janis says. “She just said it hurt too much for them to get in contact so she left it to him to send me cards for my birthday and stuff.”

“Dad said she wouldn’t want to see him so she couldn’t visit,” Veronica says.

“What do you think happened between them?”

“I dunno,” Veronica shrugs. “Must’ve been pretty serious. It had to have hurt knowing they might never see us together again, but they… did it anyway.”

“Yeah,” Janis says.

“Did you ever suspect anything?” Veronica asks.

“I guess so,” Janis says. “Looking back, there’s… some weird stuff that makes sense now. Like a bunch of my baby photos were cut in half.”

“Yours too?!” Veronica gasps. “I wonder if we actually got the right ones. Maybe Mom kept mine and Dad took yours.”

“Could be,” Janis agrees with a shrug.

They’re quiet for a while, before Veronica quietly says, “I’m kind of glad I had to move.”

Janis gently squeezes her twin’s hand and says, “I am too.”

—————

They stay up much later than they should; watching dumb old movies and chasing each other around the house and eventually making drunk calls to various friends.

But, they do eventually have to go to sleep, and bid each other goodnight as they head to their own individual bedrooms.

Janis is awoken by the screaming, once again.

She’s comes barreling into the room, looking for her sister. She’s confused when Veronica isn’t in her bed. The screams were definitely coming from in here, but where?

She pauses, and waits for more sound. Suddenly, she hears muffled sobs, coming from… the closet?

Gently, she opens the door, finding her twin huddled among the wrinkled clothes on the little bit of ground she has available and sobbing into a blue blazer Janis hasn’t seen before.

“Vera,” she says sadly, crouching down next to her. Veronica flinches almost out of her skin and scrambles away with a cry when she gently rests a hand on her arm. “Hey, hey, it’s-”

“Get away!” Veronica yells. “Get out of my house!”

Janis frowns in confusion. This is her house too. Veronica doesn’t recognize her. She doesn’t know how to handle this, but she knows how to try, and that’s all she can do for now.

“Vera, it’s Janis. I don’t know where you think you are right now or who you think you’re with, but I promise you’re safe. Nobody here wants to hurt you. You’re in Evanston, Illinois. It’s Saturday, and it’s… 1:12 in the morning. It’s raining outside, can you hear it?”

Veronica stays pressed against the wall, but she’s stopped thrashing and seems to be at least trying to listen.

“It’s October eleventh,” Janis continues in a low tone. “You’re not in Ohio. You’re with me, your twin. We were studying together earlier, can you remember?”

Veronica gradually relaxes, the tension in her muscles fading and some clarity returning to her eyes as Janis continues speaking. Her voice is a low, monotone croak when she speaks again. “Janny?”

“Yeah,” Janis says in relief. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Janis replies. “I heard you screaming and found you in here. You didn’t recognize me, you told me to get out of your house. Bit rude.”

“Fuck,” Veronica whispers harshly, the sound tearing out of her throat. She shoves past Janis out of the closet and rushes to her desk to grab her diary. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Whoa,” Janis says, picking herself off the ground she’s been rudely thrown to and sitting down on her sister’s bed, watching in concern as Veronica paces back and forth and scribbles frantically in her diary. Janis isn’t sure what she’s writing, but she’s pressing almost hard enough to shred the pages.

“Fuck!” Veronica growls, pitching the diary to the side and letting it slam against the wall with a loud, dull thump.

“Vera!” Janis yells. Veronica flinches and turns to look at her, like she’d forgotten Janis was still there. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I can’t,” Veronica replies, still pacing and now digging her fingernails harshly into the delicate skin of her upper arm, hard enough to leave marks. “You need to leave.”

“No,” Janis says.

“What?”

“No,” Janis repeats. “I get that it’s hard for you to talk about. I get that you don’t want to tell me, I know we’re not as close as Mama wants us to be, I know you don’t trust me, but fuck, Vera, I can’t keep doing this! I can’t keep waking up in the middle of night hearing you scream and worrying about whether or not you’ll be here the next morning! I’m scared of you, and for you. Tell me what’s going on.”

Janis’ admission stops Veronica in her tracks. Her own twin is scared of her?

Janis is concerned when Veronica breaks into sobs yet again, hunched over with the force of them. She stands, and gently rests a hand on Veronica’s shoulder, guiding her to the aggressively blue bed. Her twin grabs the yellow stuffed bunny sitting by the pillows and clings to it like it has the weight to tether her to the earth.

Janis has had plenty of her own moments like this. Where she’s had so much she wants to say, like the words are on the tip of her tongue, but try as she might, something in her gut holds her back.

Veronica needs time.

Janis is content to give it to her. They sit on the bed, barely able to see one another by the light of the moon streaming in through the blinds. Janis curls into a ball and watches the minutes continue to tick by. Minutes turn to hours, faster than either of them are ready for. Neither of them knows how long it’s been by the time Veronica takes a shuddering breath and starts to speak.

“Okay,” she mumbles, voice wavering with emotion and uncertainty. “You really want to know?”

Janis nods, as if to say, obviously.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Veronica continues. “Even-even Cady. Damian. Nobody.”

“I won’t,” Janis promises, crossing her heart. “We’re twins, aren’t we supposed to, like, know all of each other’s secrets instinctively? I won’t tell anyone.”

“I killed four people.”

Janis chokes on air, making Veronica worry she might have a fifth on her hands for a second. “You what?! You?”

Veronica nods hollowly. “Heather was the first.

“I was a nobody, for years. Kindergarten ‘til junior year. Everyone knew who I was, y’know, small school, but nobody really… knew me. Martha and I were… alone. We got bullied and stuff. And I didn’t hate it like that, necessarily, but… I wanted more. And I wanted the bullying to stop. So I tried to join the Heathers. The Heathers were like your Plastics, but… worse. More serious drama, more eating disorders, more… more. I rescued them from a teacher in the bathroom on the first day of school.”

Janis listens intently, wondering how this leads to murdering four fucking humans.

“I was part of them, from then on. An honorary Heather. Had my fucking… prison uniform I had to wear every day, I had to eat lunch with them, I had to abandon Martha, I had to go to all these fucking parties and drink these gross Jell-O shot things and fuck, Janny, it was awful,” Veronica says hollowly. There’s nothing behind her eyes, as Veronica is totally lost in her memory.

“We went to this Remington party. College party. Big deal. I-I… drank… way too much. Got sick. They-they wanted to… torment Martha, in front of everyone. They would’ve posted that shit everywhere, they would’ve ruined her. I stopped them. Was already on thin ice. Then I threw up on Chandler’s shoes.”

Janis can tell from her tone that this Chandler is probably Veronica’s own personal Regina George. If not worse, somehow.

“And then told her to lick it up,” Veronica says, laughing bitterly, harshly. “So, I was… a dead girl walking. I knew it. I left right then and walked home. But I got lost, and then… stopped in front of this boy’s house. Jason fucking Dean.”

The amount of venom in her tone when she says his name throws Janis for a loop. “Wh-what happened?”

“We fucked,” Veronica says blankly. “A lot. Wasn’t great. Woke up the next morning in a panic, because I knew Chandler was gonna crucify me on Monday if I didn’t do something major to apologize. I said I had to go, tried to leave, but JD had to fucking come with me. Moral support. Bullshit.

“Made it to her house, and… she wanted a prairie oyster. Hangover cure. JD joked around and said it would be funny to give her drain cleaner instead. But he wasn’t joking. He switched the mugs when I wasn’t looking, I grabbed the wrong one.”

Janis’ eyes go wide as she starts to put together where the story is heading.

“I didn’t realize what I’d done until she died clutching my leg,” Veronica whispers. “She was fucking seventeen. Seventeen years old and I killed her like it was nothing. JD had me forge a suicide note and that was that. I pretended like I missed her at school. Acted like it was a suicide. Like I wasn’t the one who put her in that fucking casket at her funeral.

“And I thought that was the end of it. But then Mac volunteered me to get date raped in her place by these two jock boys. I escaped, but… they still spread rumors. Told everyone I had taken both of them at the same time. It was too much for me. I cried, a lot. JD said we had to make them pay.”

“God, Vera,” Janis whispers.

“You know why I take German?” Veronica chuckles hollowly. “So nobody can trick me like him again. He told me he had these special bullets. World War Two relics, that just knocked the victim unconscious without killing them. Ich lüge bullets. So I lured them to the woods and we met them there. With a pistol, and these bullets. You know what ich lüge means?

“I lie. I fucking shot Ram Sweeney. He bled out in front of me and I did nothing. I couldn’t, I didn’t… didn’t know what to do. I watched him die, Janis. JD took the gun and went after Kurt. God, it… it’s so… the shot was so loud, Janis. I can… I still hear it, every time I close my eyes. I see them, with their fucking eyes all glazed over.”

Janis stays quiet. This is somehow much more than she was expecting, even though she knew people would die going into the story.

“I broke up with him then,” Veronica says bitterly. “Tried to. He was… he wasn’t there anymore. I like to think that somewhere deep down he actually loved me. Wasn’t just using me as an accomplice. But he wasn’t sane anymore. So he decided I was next.

“He had gotten everyone to sign this fucking fake petition agreeing to die. I found out and he knew. Knew I would stop him, so he had to get me out of the way. He came over, climbed in through my window. And found me hanging in my closet.”

So that’s why she had been in the closet, why she yelled at Janis to get out of her house. A flashback.

“He was… ranting, and-and raving. I was terrified. I had to listen to it all and act like I was dead, like I didn’t want to cut the noose and kill him with my bare hands. Like I didn’t know there was a chance he’d notice it wasn’t tight enough and kill me himself. But he didn’t. Somehow.

“As soon as he left I cut myself down and just… ran to the school as fast as I could. There was a pep rally, it was gonna be on TV, everything. A big deal. I knew he was gonna try and make it bigger, somehow. I found him in the boiler room. With a bomb.”

“He bombed your school?!”

“He tried to,” Veronica says. “That one was just a small one to set off more in the gym. Everyone was supposed to die that night. I clocked him with my croquet mallet. Took his gun. I fucking… I shot him too, Janis. I shot him in the hand. I thought I killed him too, right then.

“But I hadn’t. I don’t know if it was adrenaline from bleeding out, or what, but… he kind of came to his senses. Kissed me, said it wasn’t too late. For me. It was too late for him. I could save myself, I was worth saving. He wasn’t. And then he took his bomb to the football field.”

“Did he-”

Veronica suddenly lifts her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her sports bra. Janis can see her upper arms and the top of her chest, and realizes she hasn’t seen them before.

Veronica is peppered with scars. Some big, some small, some with evidence of stitches, others that seemed to heal on their own. All of them are rough, jagged, irregular.

“Shrapnel.” Veronica explains with a single word. “He set it off hugging it. I had his brains in my fucking hair. There wasn’t even enough of him left to cremate, let alone bury. They just… mopped him up. Got new turf and moved on.”

“Fucking hell, Vera,” Janis breathes.

“There. I’m a murderer. That’s why I’m this… fucked. Why I wake up screaming, why I have flashbacks, why I can’t show my upper arms. Why I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Janis insists. “If you’re a freak, then so am I.”

“How could you possibly-”

Janis tugs her own shirt off, letting her twin see the mess of faded scars lining her arms, and stomach, and hips. She holds out her left arm so Veronica can see the deepest carving she did. Space dyke, permanently etched into her flesh. Not that it was meant to be spectacularly permanent when she did it.

“I’ve been there,” Janis whispers. “I didn’t… go through… anywhere near as much as you. But… I used to wake up screaming too. Had flashbacks. I have scars. None of those things make us freaks. It makes us… hurt. We’ve just been hurt, that’s all it means. We have trauma. Trauma that wasn’t our faults, wasn’t caused by anything we did. But trauma we have to work through. It doesn’t make us any less human. Or any less loved.”

“Mine was my fault, Janny,” Veronica whispers. “I killed them.”

“No, you didn’t,” Janis insists. “You were manipulated, Vera. You had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want those people dead, even after everything they did to you. Everything you told me was his fault. He tricked you, he lied to you. Vera, he fucking abused you. None of those deaths were your fault. You were an accessory at best.”

“I’ve always been shit at accessorizing,” Veronica mumbles hollowly. “I could still be arrested. There’s a lot… a lot of evidence. I’d be in for life.”

“Which is why we won’t tell anyone,” Janis promises. “You can trust me.”

Veronica looks visibly relieved for the first time all night at Janis’ words. Her shoulders relax fully, and she gives the smallest thankful grin she can muster.

“Um…”

“What?” Janis asks, concerned there’s more.

“If I can trust you with that,” Veronica mumbles. “I still… see them.”

“See who?”

“Them,” Veronica repeats. Janis’ eyes widen in understanding. “I don’t know if they’re ghosts or hallucinations, but… they’re still here.”

“Cool, so you see dead people,” Janis hums. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

“Hey,” a quiet, echoey voice says suddenly. Janis shrieks and leaps into her twin.

“Vera?” she asks shakily. “I… I see them too.”

“I’m not crazy!” Veronica cheers, throwing Janis off her lap by accident in her celebration. “Sorry Janny. Guys, don’t be rude. Introduce yourselves.”

“What the fuck what the fuck what the-” Janis repeats under her breath as four forms hover before her.

The first is a girl, clad all in red even down to the scrunchie in her ginger curls. Janis can… see through her, slightly, allowing her to see that her mouth and throat are stained an unnatural, chemical blue. It drips from the corners of her mouth and down her chin.

The next two are almost naked, revealing more skin than Janis has ever wanted to see from a man. One has a bullet hole through his chest, and the other has one in his head. The area around each is stained red with the ghost equivalent of blood, but they don’t seem particularly fussed by them.

And the last one is in a trench coat, glaring the twins down. He’s covered head to toe in ash and soot, and Janis thinks she can even distantly smell the acrid scent of burned flesh.

“I’m Heather Chandler,” the girl says, apparently having decided to speak up first. “Pleasure to meet the Wonder Twins.”

“I’m Kurt Kelly,” one of the Tighty Whitie Twins says.

“I’m Ram Sweeney.”

“And we’re not gay for each other!”

“We’re not?”

“Dude!” Kurt huffs. “…Maybe.”

“Jason Dean,” the final phantom says with a sly, infuriatingly smug grin. “Pleasure.”

“Okay,” Janis says, trying to process several existential crises at once. “Um, just… collectively. Fuck you guys! The fuck?! What the hell were you thinking, you’re all assholes! If you weren’t already dead I’d kick your ghost asses from here to kingdom co-”

She gets cut off as Veronica gently slams a hand over her mouth. “Just give her some time, guys.”

“Why can she see us?” Kurt asks. “I thought you were the only one.”

“I don’t know,” Veronica shrugs. “Maybe… maybe because we’re twins. Our spirits are tied together, or some bullshit like that. In tune enough that she can see you too.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Heather says sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“Sure, Chandy,” Veronica chuckles.

“Don’t call me that,” Heather says before she fades away, leaving Janis wondering if she was actually there in the first place. The other three follow suit, and they’re alone once more.

“Wh-”

“It’s best if you don’t question it,” Veronica shrugs.

“I just saw ghosts!” Janis insists. “Can they still hear us?”

“I don’t think so,” Veronica says. “They’re kinda like an Alexa. You have to call on them. But they could, I don’t really know.”

Janis blinks at her. Veronica laughs in spite of everything.

“Um… I’m fine now. You can go back to bed.”

“Nah,” Janis smirks. “I’m staying.”

And she does. They stay up a little bit longer talking, before they both drift off huddled together.

—————

A few months later comes a much needed art freaks movie night.

“Hey, Cads,” Damian greets, leading Cady down the hall to the living room. Cady pauses in her tracks when she sees Janis and Veronica both clad in identical hoodies with their hair hidden and faces clean of makeup. They’re even in the same pants and socks, and their hands are tucked into their sleeves so Cady can’t see their nails.

“Oh god,” she groans.

“They did it to me when I got here,” Damian sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring the twins down.

“Think you can tell us apart?” one of them says with a smile.

“Damian got it wrong,” the other one chuckles. “Do you think you can do better?”

“Mm,” Cady hums. “Let’s see.”

She heads over and leans in close to the both of them, her eyes darting back and forth between their faces. Cady knows she doesn’t really have a shot based on looks alone; since they’re almost perfectly identical physically. She’s hoping that one of them will give her a tell that the other doesn’t have.

Sure enough, the one on the left blushes a bit when Cady gets close and looks her in the eye. Janis still does that every time Cady gets up in her space. She also has the familiar smell of paint and apples faintly emanating from her; while the other smells like fresh ink and ocean-scented perfume.

Cady smiles to herself as she realizes she has them down, and decides to play her own little joke on them. She gently cups Veronica’s cheek and leans in, acting like she’s going in for a kiss.

Veronica recoils and Janis starts to say, “Caddy, no!” before she’s cut off by Cady’s lips on hers. Cady laughs against her lips before she pulls back.

“Gotcha,” she grins. “That’ll teach you.”

“Hey,” Janis pouts. “That’s mean.”

“Oh, like this wasn’t?” Cady chuckles.

“How’d you know who was who?” Veronica asks as she takes her hood down and fluffs her hair out.

“You guys smell different,” Cady shrugs. “And this one still blushes every time she gets close to me.”

“No I don’t!” Janis huffs. Cady rolls her eyes and gently leans in. She’s not even touching her, but Janis still flushes a cute shade of pink. Veronica snorts.

“You so do! Dork,” she laughs.

“Hey!” Janis says. “You asshole, that’s-”

Cady takes advantage of her head being turned to kiss Janis’ cheek. Janis squeaks quietly and pauses her tirade on her sister. Cady smirks. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Janis says softly.

“You’re welcome, Veronica,” Cady chuckles. She settles on Janis’ lap to pin her girlfriend down just in case. Veronica laughs again.

“Yeah, thanks, Cady,” she says.

“You wanna join us for movie night?”

“Uh…” Veronica glances at her sister. “If you guys want me to.”

“Of course we do!” Damian says.

“Then sure,” Veronica says with a faint smile.

“Girls!” Janis and Veronica’s mother calls. “And children who never spend time at their own homes.”

“Hi, Ms. Sarkisian,” Cady says with a smile. Ms. Sarkisian smiles back.

“Hi, Cady. Girls, I found an old tape of you two in the attic, if you’d like to watch it.”

“What’s on it?” Veronica asks. It’s dated Winter-Spring 2001/2002, when they would’ve been roughly six months to a year old.

“I have no idea,” their mother says. “You’ll have to watch it and let me know. I’m off to work.”

“Bye,” the twins say at the same time, each getting a kiss on the forehead. Damian and Cady smile as they each get a pinched cheek and the woman is out the door.

“Do we even have a VCR?” Veronica asks. Janis nods.

“We still use a lot of DVD’s. Our DVD player has both,” she explains. “We can watch it later.”

“Noooo,” Cady pleads. “I need to see baby Janis.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?” Cady begs. Janis does her best to resist Cady’s infamous puppy eyes. She groans quietly as she feels herself about to give in.

“Veronica has to say yes too!” she comes up with at the last possible second.

“I don’t care,” Veronica shrugs with a snort. “I was a cute baby.”

“Dammit.”

“Yes!” Cady cheers.

Everyone takes their places on the couch as Veronica puts the tape in and Janis figures out how to get it playing.

The camera cuts on, and shows a very blurry zoomed-in image of a baby. Janis and Veronica both smile as they hear their mother’s voice. “How does this work? Is it- oh, it’s recording. Okay, I’m making a video of the twins. Everyone always asks how we tell them apart, and I think that someday I might not remember how we used to do this. So, for posterity. Oh, wow, that’s really zoomed in. Theeeere we go!”

The baby in question wiggles in delight at the attention on her. Not even Janis and Veronica can tell which of them it is.

“Oh my god,” Cady says. She sounds almost choked, like she’s physically biting back a squeal. “You guys were so cute.”

“This is Veronica,” the video says. Now-Veronica smiles a little wider. “Veronica is the happiest baby you’ve ever seen.” A hand suddenly materializes from behind the camera and tickles her chin to coax that famous laugh. “She’s only ever grumpy when she’s hungry.”

“Still true,” Janis says.

“Bitch!” Veronica scoffs. Janis raises an eyebrow and hands her an Oreo. Veronica takes it with a grumbled, “Shut up.”

“And then this one,” the video continues, panning up to baby Janis crawling and trying to climb into her toy box. “Is my problem child.”

Everyone laughs except Janis, who just humphs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Victoria,” their mother says in the video. “Hey. Victoria. Tori. Vicky. Victoria Janis, look at me!” Baby Janis only responds to her middle name, snapping her head up to look at her with an impish smile. “Hi, wild girl. Come here.”

Baby Janis crawls to the camera at breakneck speeds and sits next to her twin with a smile and a little exerted noise.

“Damn, Janis,” Damian chuckles. “Speed demon.”

“Glad that changed,” Cady chuckles, looking at Janis lounging against her like a little slug. Janis just grunts and cuddles closer.

“Baby me had shit to do. I just finished it all.”

“They’re already correcting us when we mix them up,” their mom says. “Girls, who’s Veronica?”

Baby Janis eagerly pats her twin, and baby Veronica squeals again. Their mother laughs from behind the camera.

“Good job! Where’s Victoria?”

Veronica practically tackles her sister. Their mother just barely manages to drop the camera and catch her before baby Janis can be knocked over.

“Ronnie, gentle,” their mother laughs. “She’s a little aggressive sometimes.”

“Yeah, Ronnie,” Janis pouts. “Be gentle.”

“Not my fault you were the weakling,” Veronica hums with a shrug. Janis scoffs and shoves her. Veronica retaliates, and sends her sister into Cady and Damian like dominoes.

“Alright, alright,” Cady says with a laugh. “Break it up.”

“Hmph,” Janis grumbles, cuddling closer into her girlfriend to get away from her sister. Cady protectively holds her closer and looks back to the video.

“Alright, let’s see…” their mother says. “They aren’t super different physically. We usually try to tell by their temperaments. But we also paint their toenails just in case.”

The video zooms in on chubby little feet to show that their big toenails are decorated with different colors of nail polish. Janis’ is green, and Veronica’s is blue.

“Tori also has a little freckle right underneath her eyebrow,” their mother says, holding the camera very close and very unfocused against baby Janis’ face. Everybody laughs as little fingers suddenly appear on the lens and she tries to munch on the camera.

Now-Janis recoils a bit when they switch to checking if her freckle is still present. “You do still have it!” Cady says, gently resting a finger right beneath it. “It’s just tiny.”

“You’re all very close,” Janis says. Everyone but Cady pulls back, and they all laugh as Janis blushes again.

“Aww, your mom was so pretty!” Damian says suddenly. They all look back at the TV to see that the camera is now facing Janis and Veronica’s mother.

“Oh, gosh,” she says, brushing her hair to the side and wincing a bit. “You girls have been tough on me, huh?” One of the babies squeals in apparent agreement. “Okay, this is the easiest way to tell the twins apart.”

Baby Janis suddenly appears in her arms. She smiles contently and looks around, seeming totally chill with just being held.

“Victoria loves to be carried,” their mother explains, looking at the baby with a smile. “She’s happy doing her own thing, but she also loves to hang out with anyone she can. She’d stay here all day if I’d let her.”

Janis is swapped for Veronica. Veronica almost immediately starts wiggling and trying to climb out of her mothers arms.

“This one cannot stand it. She’s growling at me,” Sure enough, some little growls can be heard coming from Veronica. She eventually resorts to going totally limp, flopped backwards over their mother’s arm and looking at the camera upside down. Her lip is curled up in a half-snarl, half-smile as she gives another desperate grunt. “Not a big cuddler.”

Cady and Damian look at the twins now. Janis is lounged such that every part of her body is in contact with someone else, while Veronica is tucked as close to the arm of the couch as she can get and is actively leaning away.

“You guys really haven’t changed all that much,” Damian snorts. Janis bends her arm at a strange angle to give him a weak whack. “Ow!”

“Weakling,” Janis and Veronica say at the same time.

“Alright, it’s nap time for these two,” their mother says as she puts Veronica down and picks the camera up again. “Say bye-bye, girls.” Both babies wave bye, unknowingly to their future selves.

The clip cuts to another. The date in the corner is a few months later, just a few weeks shy of their first birthday.

One baby is sitting in front of what looks to be a closet of some sort, in the middle of a massive pile of jackets, coats, and sweaters. She’s managed to get one on that most definitely does not belong to her.

“Tori, look at Mama,” their mother’s voice says. Baby Janis does with a cheesy grin. “What are you doing?”

“Daddy!” baby Janis explains, pushing herself to stand and toddling towards the camera with the jacket flowing like an elaborate cape behind her. Cady makes a very strange noise at hearing Janis’ baby voice; somehow a laugh, sob and squeal all at once.

“Yeah, you found Daddy’s jacket, huh?” their mother says.

“Wait, Jan, isn’t that your jacket with the eyeballs on it?” Damian asks.

“Yeah, it is,” Janis says with a smile. “I never knew it was his.”

“Oh, here comes Ronnie,” the voice behind the camera says as Veronica toddles up to the pile of jackets on the floor and grabs one. “Tori, you’re corrupting your sister.”

“Yeah, Tori,” Veronica teases. “Look at what you’ve done.”

“Shut up!” Janis scoffs with a laugh. “We totally switched places, I’m the innocent one now.”

“You set the toaster on fire this morning.”

“Not on purpose!”

“You’re still totally the problem kid,” Veronica chuckles. “I was way cuter.”

“Oh please, we look like the same person,” Janis huffs. “You can’t even tell who’s who.”

“You’re both so cute,” Cady says, muffled by her hands over her mouth.

“Caddy, are you crying?” Janis asks with a chuckle.

“You were so tiny!” Cady defends. “It’s not every day you get to see your girlfriend as a baby. Look at you.”

“I have that jacket,” Veronica says, frowning at her baby self on the screen; clad in a much too large denim jacket. “Dad said he found it for my birthday.”

“Now Ronnie’s in my jacket,” their mother chuckles. “Goofy girls.”

“It’s Mom’s?” Veronica asks quietly. A faint smile grows on her face. “That’s my favorite jacket.”

“Daddy?” baby Janis repeats. Cady makes the sound again and holds her hands against her face in disbelief at how cute her baby girlfriend was.

“Where is Daddy? You wanna go show him?” their mother asks. Tiny Janis nods and goes padding off to find her father. Veronica goes tearing after her as best she can on unsteady legs. The camera shakes as their mother stands up and follows after them.

The sound of a man laughing can be heard just before the camera pans up to baby Janis being tossed in the air by her dad. “Hi, Tori! Nice coat!”

“Daddy,” baby Janis repeats.

“Yeah, you look killer, kiddo,” her dad chortles. He grabs Veronica by a little arm and hauls her up too, holding both of them side by side. Now-Janis smiles seeing her little self being loved on by her father. “You’ll grow into it.”

“I’m taking that jacket back, Ronnie,” their mother teases, tickling baby Veronica’s tummy. “That’s mine, you little stinker.”

“Feels telling for our futures, eh?” their dad chuckles. They can hear their mother sigh behind the camera.

“As long as they stay this cute, I think I’m okay with it,” she says. Now-Janis and Veronica look at each other. They both nod confidently and look back to the screen.

There’s no goodbye for that clip, it simply cuts off and into the next one. Both Janis and Veronica frown a little bit as this one is bits and pieces of their first birthday party. To think of how many birthdays they had apart, none the wiser to the existence of the other.

Their parents aren’t actively filming them this time, instead leaving the camera rolling on a nearby counter and, for once, both being on the other side of it.

It’s obvious to everyone watching that things have already started to go a certain way for their parents. They seem to tense if they get within a few feet of each other and quickly look away if they happen to lock eyes.

In spite of that, they’re clearly both delighted by Janis and Veronica. It’s just as obvious that they absolutely adore both of them.

Damian and Cady just watch as each of their modern day counterparts point out their relatives that the other hasn’t gotten to meet yet. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, family friends. So many people who knew, and yet… they didn’t, somehow.

They watch as their first birthday song is sung to them and their parents blow out their candles in their stead. Once they’re removed, baby Janis dives right in and smushes her hands into her birthday cake. She grabs large fistfuls of it and, obviously, puts it right in her mouth.

“Oh, you like that, uh oh,” their father chuckles. “Is that yummy cake?”

“Yummyyyyy,” baby Janis echoes happily. She grabs another handful and reaches out towards her dad, offering him some. He laughs and takes a small taste from the chubby fist.

“Thanks, Tori,” he chuckles. “What’s wrong, Ronnie?”

Baby Veronica has been sitting politely in her high chair next to her twin, watching the entire cake smash go down but refusing to touch her own.

“You don’t want your birthday cake? It’s yummy! Look at your sister,” their mother says. Veronica does. She seems very concerned by Janis’ frosting covered face and hands.

Their mom gently takes one of Veronica’s hands and swipes a little finger through the frosting. Veronica looks curiously at it as it’s brought to her mouth and hesitantly sucks the frosting off. She squeaks happily at the sugary taste and smushes the other hand into her cake. Only when she pulls away with a handful does she realize it’s definitely not a texture she wants all over her hand and bursts into tears.

“Oh, baby,” their mother chuckles sadly. Veronica gets picked up and comforted while Janis somehow manages to eat a solid half of her cake.

There’s a few more clips of the party. Opening presents, a few games, and some well wishes from various relatives and friends.

Janis and Veronica’s faces both fall when the scene suddenly changes again. The date is about six months later, and the time shows it’s practically the middle of the night. The two of them are just barely visible in the nearly pitch darkness. They’re cuddled up together in the same crib, and someone can be heard crying quietly behind the camera.

“Veronica and I are leaving tomorrow,” their father’s voice whispers shakily. “I really hope your mother and I are making the right choice here.”

Baby Janis stirs as he gently strokes a large hand through her hair. He quickly pulls back and sniffles as she cuddles closer into Veronica.

“I don’t know when I’m going to get to see you together again,” he continues quietly. “You won’t sleep unless you’re together. I don’t know how we’re going to do this. But we’re going to, and we’ll be okay. I hope… I hope someday you girls get to know about each other. And I hope that you know your mother and I love both of you so, so much.”

Everyone’s silent as the tape ends and abruptly cuts to black. Nobody moves, nobody says anything. They’re not entirely sure anybody breathes.

“I need a second,” Janis says after a couple minutes, standing and rushing off to the kitchen for some privacy. She splashes some cold water on her face and tries to breathe around the heavy lump in her throat.

Veronica slams into the kitchen after her and goes right for the fridge. Janis pats her face dry with a towel and watches in concern as Veronica chugs an entire bottle of water and pulls away with a growl.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking fantastic,” Veronica huffs.

“Sorry,” Janis mumbles, hanging the towel back up.

“How could they possibly think that was the best solution?” Veronica asks. “I could’ve had a mother my whole life, but they-they-”

“They had a tough choice to make-”

“And they chose wrong,” Veronica growls. “Don’t you dare try to defend them.”

“I’m going to! They’re our parents!” Janis yells. “We have no idea what they went through with each other, or with us. We have no idea what led them to the choice they did. It sucked, but we can’t do anything about it now except live with it.”

“You can’t tell me you aren’t just as pissed as me, don’t try to act like you’re so high and mighty,” Veronica scoffs.

“I’m not!” Janis retaliates. “I am pissed, I think this is a really shitty thing they did to us! But I can’t blame them for making a misguided decision in whatever circumstances they were in!”

“Whatever they were going through doesn’t excuse the shit they pulled on us,” Veronica says through grit teeth.

“Oh, yeah, and whatever you were going through doesn’t excuse you killing a bunch of people, then? You can’t fucki-”

“Oh, that’s low,” Veronica says with a hollow laugh. Something about it scares Janis more than she cares to admit. She’s never seen her sister like this. “Even for you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Janis yells. “Why are you acting like this?!”

“Because I’m fucking rightly upset about some shitty circumstances I went through that I didn’t have to! It’s not my fault I got stuck with a fucking pushover like you! I’m glad we’re only identical in looks.”

“Jesus,” Janis laughs ironically. “Come find me when you get a fucking clue, Vera.”

Janis stalks off back to her friends, leaving Veronica alone in the kitchen to mull over what just happened.

“You okay?” Cady asks gently. She looks almost like she’s scared of the answer. Janis thinks she might be too.

Janis nods, but she feels her face crumple as she does. She’s in tears again before she knows it. Cady pouts and reaches out for her. Janis sinks into her embrace and cries, even as Damian leans in against her back and gently rubs her shoulder.

She knew they were bound to fight at some point. It’s only natural for siblings. She just wasn’t expecting it to hurt so badly when they did. Something about knowing it’s her twin that’s upset with her hurts in a special way she’s never experienced before. Like part of herself is somehow upset with her. Like that part of her is just… gone, altogether.

She can only hope it comes back. Can only hope they work this out. Sure, it was only an argument, but it was a big one.

Cady holds her as she cries, and Damian comforts by simply leaning his comforting weight against her back. Janis briefly feels even worse. Veronica’s comfort people are all in Ohio. She only calms down when she hears Veronica in the kitchen on her phone. She must be talking to either Mac or Martha. She hopes they can help her.

She gradually stops crying. Cady gently strokes away her leftover tears and presses the softest kiss to the corner of her lips. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Let’s watch a movie.”

—-

They watch several, until both Damian and Cady have to go home. Veronica walks by in complete silence at one point and goes up to her bedroom.

Janis is still reeling from earlier. Entirely too many thoughts are whirling in her head. So, she heads downstairs to her studio and decides to paint them out.

“Hi,” a muffled voice says. Janis jumps and whirls around to see Heather floating a few inches above the couch on the other side of her easel.

“Jesus!” she says. “Hey, Heather. Is Vera-”

“She’s fine. She’s asleep,” Heather says. “Nice place.”

“Uh… thanks?” Janis says in confusion.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I literally can’t do anything to you,” Heather says. “I can’t do anything to anything.”

“You can’t, like, make stuff float?” Janis asks.

“I could do that, maybe,” Heather agrees. “But I’m too weak to do much else.”

“Weak?” Janis questions, tucking her paintbrush behind her ear and coming over to her.

“Spirits aren’t really… designed to stick around on Earth after death,” Heather explains. “We get weaker every day we aren’t released to the afterlife. Everyone starts out with different levels of strength. I died young, so I’m stronger than a lot of spirits, but I don’t have anything I left unfinished in my life that I need strength to stick around for. I’m fading fast.”

“Is Veronica gonna lose you, then?” Janis asks sadly.

“No,” Heather says. “I’ll just get weaker as time goes on.”

“Then why don’t you leave? To the… afterlife, or whatever? If you’re so tired and weak?” Janis asks.

“She’s not ready,” Heather murmurs softly. “That’s part of why I’m here.”

Janis waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “…Okay?”

“I need you to promise me you’ll take care of her,” Heather says. “She needs someone. She needs you.”

“I promise,” Janis says. “Of course.”

Heather nods a bit. Fiddles with the cushion on the couch. Janis wonders how much she can actually feel. “She’s a pillowcase. But she can be something big someday. She just needs someone by her side. Mac is… beyond good for her, but she… she needs you.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Janis says. “I promise.”

“Good,” Heather says with a sigh of relief. “Good. I know you’re mad at each other, but… don’t let this ruin it.”

“I won’t if she won’t,” Janis says. “It’s a stupid argument.”

“It is,” Heather agrees quietly. “I just… know how much damage stupid arguments can do.”

Janis nods empathetically. “I’m… really sorry about what happened to you.”

“Me too,” Heather says softly. “But I’m not sure things would’ve been much better if I’d survived.”

“What do you mean?” Janis asks. It should be weird, making conversation with a ghost. Weirder than it is. Janis feels like she’s just talking to a new friend. Who happens to be translucent.

“JD would’ve still been around, I don’t know if he would have come after me again if I survived the Drain-O,” Heather begins. “I died quickly. I barely felt it. He might’ve done something else. And, I mean, look at what happened to your friend.”

“Regina?” Janis says. “She’s fine.”

“To you,” Heather says. “She got hit by a bus going twenty miles an hour. She’s probably got all sorts of pain that’ll never go away. I’m glad she got a chance to make amends and build new relationships with you guys, but she’s probably suffering in ways that’ll never leave her. I’m… I think I’d rather be dead.”

Janis is quiet. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought about what Regina would be going through after the bus. But Heather is right. Regina had at least four surgeries, two of them emergencies to save her life. Her spine broke, among numerous other internal injuries. The more sadistic part of her might be glad Regina’s hurting in such a way. But now… it just makes her sad.

“I’m not trying to excuse what she did to you. Veronica told me what happened. Well, I kinda… made her tell me. I’m sorry that happened to you,” Heather says. “But… I really think you should let her, if she tries to apologize and make amends with you personally.”

“I will,” Janis agrees quietly. “Did you get to do that with anyone?”

“The people that really matter,” Heather nods. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m content. Whenever Ronnie’s ready to… to let me go, I’ll… be ready.”

“You don’t seem ready,” Janis says, trying not to sound accusatory.

“I don’t have a choice,” Heather snaps. Janis holds her hands up in immediate surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine,” Janis says. “Sorry for pushing your buttons.”

“You really are like that pillowcase,” Heather says. Her tone doesn’t match the affectionate look in her eyes.

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” Heather snorts. She seems so regal, even as a ghost in what appears to be lingerie. Janis laughs hearing such a sound come from her. “You’re both huge fucking nerds.”

“Hey!” Janis laughs.

“It just… as soon as we met you it made sense that you’re twins, even though you’ve been separated for so long,” Heather continues.

“I think that’s how we both felt too,” Janis says. “I see why she wanted to be friends with you.”

“I don’t know that you do,” Heather admits. “Anyway. Sorry I kept you from your painting.”

“It’s fine,” Janis says. “I’m glad I got to talk to you.”

“Me too,” Heather says.

Janis stands and starts packing up her things. Heather stays, seeming to want to linger in the land of the living for just a bit longer. Watching Janis has to be slightly more interesting than watching Veronica sleep.

“Can I ask you something?” Janis asks as she screws the lid on her last tube of paint.

“I dunno, can you?” Heather hums haughtily.

“Bitch,” Janis snorts.

“Yes, thank you, glad you caught on,” Heather says. “Shoot.”

“Are you scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“…Whatever comes next for you,” Janis asks, not entirely sure how to phrase what she’s trying to ask. Heather pauses, floating aimlessly a few inches off the ground.

“Not… really,” she says after a few minutes. “Not of moving on. I’m already dead, I think the hard part’s done with.”

“But…?”

“But I’m scared of what I’ll miss,” Heather admits softly. “The things I’ll never see. Friends I’ll never see again. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye for a lot of people. And I’ve… kind of had to come to terms with the fact I’m not going to. And I’m terrified of never getting to see her again.”

“Her?”

“Veronica.”

“Do you… are-are you…”

“Yes,” Heather admits.

“You should tell her,” Janis says sadly.

“It’d only hurt her more,” Heather says with a shake of her head. “And she has Mac now. She has her person.”

“I hope you’re happy wherever you end up.”

“You too,” Heather says honestly. “Goodnight, Janis.”

“Goodnight, Heather.”

—————

Janis resumes her painting the next morning after a fitful night of poor sleep. She looks up and back down quickly when Veronica comes quietly padding down the stairs.

“Hey,” Veronica says sheepishly.

“Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Janis sighs, putting down her brush and looking at her sister. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Veronica says. “I was totally out of line last night.”

“Yeah, you were,” Janis agrees.

“I don’t think I’m wrong for being mad at them, but… not to that extent,” Veronica continues. “And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I was a major asshole.”

“You were,” Janis says again. “But I’m stuck with you, so I guess I can forgive you.”

“So gracious,” Veronica snorts. Janis leans in and rests her head against her shoulder.

“Lucky for you.”

“Get off, loser,” Veronica laughs.

“No,” Janis says, leaning in even closer in spite of her sister trying to shove her away. She loosens all her muscles so Veronica is just trying to push away her dead weight. Eventually she gives up and lets Janis stay for a while. “…Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asks in confusion. Janis watches as she tries and fails to surreptitiously dry her sweaty palms on her pants.

“I’ve never seen you like you were yesterday. Was scary,” Janis explains. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Veronica says, too quick to be believed. Janis doesn’t press her anyway. “I just… snapped. But I’m fine. Swear.”

“You should tell Mama if somethings going on,” Janis says quietly.

“Nothing is happening! I’m fine!” Veronica huffs. Her hand tightens uncomfortably around Janis’ knee. Janis resists the urge in her gut to pull away.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Janis says. “Chill.”

“Sorry. But seriously, I’m fine,” Veronica says.

“You’ve been distant lately, too,” Janis mumbles. “Did I do something?”

“No, Jan, seriously,” Veronica sighs. “You’re fine, I’m fine. It’s fine, just forget it.”

Janis doesn’t think she can. “Fine. You wanna see if Cads and Dame can come over for a real movie night?”

“Sounds tits.”

“Yes!” Janis cheers.

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fluffy-critter · 10 months

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#crosspost #busybee

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byooregard · 3 years

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The Not-Really-Official Mighty Nein Ao3 Ship Stonks

[image id: a graph showing the popularity of various critical role campaign two ships on ao3 over the course of campaign 2 /end id]

Anyways! I decided to go through all the fics written in the Critical Role tag from the start of Campaign 2 to the end, and see how the general shipping landscape has changed throughout the campaign!

I gathered together the most popular (to my knowledge) cr2 ships on Ao3 and looked at the numbers month by month (I wish I could have done it weekly, but that would have been simply too much) to put together a spreadsheet and a bunch of graphs!

I’ll include a link to my whole google sheet on this in a reblog, because the last time I did something similar for Vox Machina, tumblr ate it and I got like 7 notes for all my hard work.

More graphs (I made individual ones for each pairing for readability) and a bit of me talking about the stuff I found out under the cut

[Image id: a similar graph to the one above, but where the top one shows fic numbers by month, this graph shows cumulative numbers /end id]

Here’s a cumulative graph of the same thing as the one on the top of this post. It’s easier to read than the first one, but it doesn’t show how different ships gained and lost popularity over time nearly as well.

Onto the Ships! (Pardon the obvious extent to which I’ve been paying more attention to some ships than others and the gaps in info that come from such. This is just a project I did for fun, so my data analysis skills are far from perfect. However, if you know more than me and would like to provide insight, please do!)

[image id: a bar graph of how many Beau/Yasha fics have been posted to Ao3, month by month from January 2018 to June 2021 /end id]

Beauyasha is currently the ship with the most fics in the Critical Role Ao3 tag (let’s go lesbians!!), with 1849 total fics, as of yesterday, July 15th, 2021. This seems to come from having a steady fic production over all of the campaign rather than being particularly popular right at this moment.

The most noticeable things here are how the fic count climbs slowly until after July 2018, when it drops off. I suspect this is because at that point in the campaign, Yasha had been gone for a bit and was gonna be gone for a while, so people lost interest in the ship. The second big jump is in May 2021, which is when Beauyasha week is hosted. Beauyasha week has been going on since 2020, if i remember correctly, but it didn’t cause enough of a jump in fic making to be noticeable back in 2019. You can also see how fics generally rose in numbers after hiatus and towards the end of the campaign as Beau and Yasha were looking more and more like they were gonna become canon/endgame (and eventually did).

[image id: a bar graph similar to the one above, this one cataloguing the number of Fjord/Caduceus fics over Campaign 2 /end id]

This ship is definitely the least popular one I’ve got here, and looking back I could have gone without including it, but I did all this data collection, so, oh well.

Notable points on here: Cad appears in July 2018, in episode 28, there are a few Fjord/Caduceus fics. I assume this is because of fandom doing as fandom does and shipping new characters with other characters as soon as they appear. Nothing much interesting happens till June-December 2019, which iirc is when most of the Angel of Irons arc and Fjord’s leaving Uk’otoa + joining the Wildmother arc is. The highest numbers are in April 2020, when Fjorclay week was held, and things drop off almost entirely soon after Cad is confirmed to be aroace in ep 114, in late November 2020.

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Essek/Caleb]

This is the most fun one to me, partly because I’m incredibly biased, and partly because you can really see a lot of plot points in the show in the fic numbers here. If you look at the top graph with all the ships together, you can see that Shadowgast was the most popular ship by the end of the campaign in terms of people creating content for it currently, despite still being under Beauyasha and Widomauk in total numbers. (This makes sense, as both others have almost a 60 episode head-start.) (It’s probably still the most popular now, but i didn’t collect anything for July.)

There’s nothing from when Essek appears in episode 57 in early April. There’s a relatively big spike in fics from April to May, when Caleb rolls a 12 on persuasion and Essek teaches him some spells, despite the low roll. Stuff is relatively steady till a big uptick in fics in March 2020 (Episode 97 aired right at the end of February). The next big spike is in April, which is when Essek joined the Mighty Nein in Aeor, and after that in May, when Shadowgast Week was held. (Like Beauyasha, Shadowgast week has been going since 2020, but there wasn’t a noticeable enough spike in fics in 2020 to point out.)

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Fjord/Caleb]

This is the point at which my bias shows (again, technically); I don’t really follow any people who were big Widofjord shippers while I knew them, so I have a harder time pointing out interesting things here. This ship has remained pretty consistent throughout the whole run of the Mighty Nein, being a bit more popular at the beginning (from what Liam said in the campaign wrap-up, I guess people were picking up on vibes pretty well.)

The biggest noticeable upticks are in February 2018, when I can’t remember anything interesting happening, though I will admit that I watched early Campaign 2 very long ago, and I don’t tend to notice things being romantic unless they’re directly pointed out. The next big spike in fics is in December 2018, when Fjord and Caleb make the blood pact at Divers Grave. The month with the most fics written is June 2019, when Widofjord week was held. I’m unsure if the week happened again, as there doesn’t seem to be much going on until July 2020. I’m unsure if this is because something happened in July or if it was just the campaign starting up again after hiatus.

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Fjord/Jester]

Fjorester!! Out of the three ‘endgame’ ships of Campaign 2, this one is the lowest for total fics on Ao3. In terms of growing popularity, it’s not nearly at the levels of Beauyasha or Shadowgast, but it’s still a good deal higher than any others.

The ship goes pretty steady through most of the campaign, with a bit of a drop after December 2018, which I imagine is because of Jester dropping her initial flirting with Fjord. It ticks up a lot after the hiatus, when Fjorester looks like it’s heading for canon status, and goes up a lot when Fjord and Jester kiss in Episode 118 in December. The last point at which there are a lot of fics is June 2021, which is when Fjorester week is held. (Fjorester week has been going since 2019, but the first one was in late March through early April, and there seems to be none that I can find in 2020)

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Beau/Jester]

Beaujester! I can’t think of a lot of interesting things to say about this ship outside of the graph.... It was pretty popular around the middle of the campaign, dropping off till the end when it doesn’t become canon.

Moments here: the highest point is in July 2019, when Beau wears one of Jester’s dresses. If I remember correctly, there were also a few things leading up to that point which could be read as pretty romantic (though Beaujester was definetly a ship in my general circle so I’m somewhat biased on that). In November 2019, fic output jumps up again, as this is when Beau tells Nott about her crush on Jester, in episode 84. Beaujester week is also held in November. There’s a bit of decline before July and August 2020, which I imagine brings numbers up again half because of how Travelercon centered around Jester and also half because the campaign started again after hiatus. Numbers drop off after that as it looks a lot more like Beauyasha and Fjorester are going to become canon over Beaujester.

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Caleb/Jester]

Note again that I don’t know anyone who ships Widojest, so I don’t see a lot of it on my dash, ergo I don’t know a lot about it. But! It’s the highest non-canon ship on ao3 under Widomauk, with 1108 fics (as of yesterday), which is quite a lot.

The first notable spike is around December 2018. I can’t seem to pinpoint a moment that caused this? When I asked people on Discord, they thought it was perhaps because Jester sorta dropped her crush on Fjord around then. It makes sense that people might take that as an opportunity to turn to other pairings. The two biggest spikes in this graph are in July 2019, and July 2020, which, as you’ve probably guessed, is when Widojest week is held. Other than that, numbers have been pretty consistent throughout the campaign.

[image id: another bar graph, similar to the bar graphs above, this one showcasing Ao3 numbers for Caleb/Molly]

And here we are at the end of our ship graphs! Widomauk is still the 2nd most popular CR ship on Ao3, with 1725 fics (as of yesterday), and it actually held the top spot for quite a while, despite Molly having been dead for most of that time.

The fics go up in numbers pretty fast from February 2018 (which is when Molly kisses Caleb’s forehead in the gnoll mines in episode 7). They get really high around July 2018, when Molly dies, but go down a bit after that. I’d assume this is most likely because people figured out that Molly probably wasn’t coming back, and the big uptick in fics was half people dealing with Molly’s death and half people writing rez ritual fics and the like, though that’s just speculation. Fics go up in June 2019 because of Widomauk week (I couldn’t find any evidence to Widomauk week happening more than once). There’s an uptick in December 2020, which is around the time that the Tomb Takers start traveling with the Mighty Nein for a bit.

Now for some other things:

[id: 5 sets of photos of the drop-down ‘relationships’ list you can find when filtering a tag in Ao3. They’re labeled ‘top relationships, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and all time,’. Each shows a slightly different assortment and order of Critical Role pairings, romantic and platonic. /end id]

(Sorry about how tumblr absolutely butchers my image quality by the way, you’ll be able to see all these way better in the sheet I’ll link in the reblog.)

Anyways, here’s the top relationships in the CR tag on Ao3 for each year of Campaign 2′s run. Note that these take into account only things written in that year, not things written up till and through that year. It’s pretty cool to look and see how different things have become popular through the years, and I think this best illustrates how what ao3 currently shows as the most popular relationships isn’t a reflection of the current most popular pairings.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say in this tumblr post! As I said, I’m gonna link the google sheet I have all of this on in a reblog, which includes:

the actual numbers in spreadsheet form

all the graphs pictured here, but in readable definition, and actually working (hover over lines to highlight them, and click on points to see the actual numbers)

and a few more notes on when all the important shippy moments happened throughout the campaign next to the numbers

So, at the risk of sounding like I’m telling you to go over to watch the show on Twitch for a live community moderated chat, if you’re interested, you should probably look at my spreadsheet because I spent so long working on it, please!

Also if you like this please talk to me about it! Again, I spent a ridiculous amount of time working on it and I will likely do something like this again whether or not people like it (but if people give me validation I’ll do it.... more? faster? something like that.)

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nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: beau says some shitty things to caduceus, and he comes to you. no matter what he thinks, you love him and you make sure he knows that he's not broken. (part 2/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: unintentional acephobia / arophobia (beau says some shitty things, but from a place of ignorance)

note: i am def not to the c2 episodes where cad is introduced but i love him already, so i'm not sure whether or not my characterization is on point or not, but in this house we love and respect aro/ace caduceus!!!!!

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

You know his feelings, and he knows yours. That’s why you and Caduceus get along so well, despite life on the road. There’s always some sort of friction in the group, even though it’s quickly smoothed over and forgotten. Things like that, though, never happen between you and Caduceus - which is something the rest like to point out with thinly-veiled jealousy when they’re in a tuff with another of the group.

Just thinking about your frictionless relationship with Cad makes you smile. You know that he doesn’t really get the way other people fall in love, or lust depending on who it is, and sometimes that makes you sad. But not sad in a way that you’d want him to change - Gods no. You love him for the way he is, and you know he loves you for the way you are. It doesn’t stop you from thinking about another life, another place, though.

That’s mostly irrelevant. You’ll be the first to admit, when you first found Cad and he joined your merry band of adventurers, you’d harbored a rather large crush on him. That, originally, started your kindness campaign toward him. Selfish, yes, but you don’t regret it. It has made you the closest friend you’re sure you’ll have in your entire life. He’d kept mostly to himself before you reached out to him, being nicer and nicer until… Well, until he started to return the favors.

That’s what makes you two work so well together. Everyone else is resistant, honestly, to the way you want to be nice to them. You know they have their reasons, so you don’t push. Eventually they are kind to you and, though you don’t do it just so that others will be nice to you, it’s a warming feeling to know that you have some impact on the people you travel with.

Caduceus is the one that goes out of his way the most for you, though. He’s the one that will prepare your meal in the way that you prefer, but Caleb hates, and adjusts Caleb’s accordingly. He’s the one that will listen to you and Jester fawn over Oskar, even though he’s not interested in the romantic or sexual aspects of Tusk Love. He’s the one that will hear you having a nightmare and wrap his large, warm body around yours to comfort you in the middle of the night. He is your best friend, and you’re his. (After the Wildmother, of course. You’d never get between them. It’s so clear how fond he is of her, and how fond she is of him.)

But all of these things, the history the two of you share and how close you are compared to the rest of the Mighty Nein, are the reason Caduceus comes to you late at night, tears wetting the fur on his face. It’s late, and you were asleep, but your door is open to anyone in the Might Nein. Cad knows this, which is why you’re surprised that he is knocking.

“Caddy,” You reach for his hand and guide him into your room, “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t say anything, opting instead to drape himself over you in a warm, strong hug. You feel his breathing stutter and then pick back up, a telltale sign he’s been crying for some time. Your stomach drops like a stone, “Hey, let’s sit down on the bed, okay? And then we can talk if you want or we can just sit.” He lets you lead him to the bed, but as soon as he’s at, he curls up with his back towards you and shields himself as much as possible with his arms. It’s like he’s afraid of you, sobs returning to jostle his body on your bed.

You let him have his space, stepping back but reminding him that you’re here - for him, in the room, for the long haul. You can’t let Caduceus think he’s alone in whatever he’s going through, because he’s not. He’s not alone, never, not with you around. Your heart breaks as he whimpers and rolls over, reaching a hand out for you. There’s no hesitation in your mind when you crawl into bed and let Cad fold himself around you, holding you so tightly that you’re afraid that he’ll break. “Caddy, I need you to calm down,” You wrap your arms around his middle, scratching lightly at the fur on his back to try and comfort him.

“Am I broken?”

“What?”

“Am I broken?” And then he says your name, pleading and so filled with sorrow, that it chokes you up for a second. “I think I might be broken.”

“Caduceus Clay, you are not broken,” You whisper, voice shaking as you pull him impossibly closer, eyes cresting with tears as you look, unseeing, at the wall over his shoulder. He’s buried his face in the crook where your neck meets your jaw. “I don’t know why you would think that, but I know you are not.”

He sniffles. “Beau said…” But he cuts himself off, jaw snapping shut with an audible sound as he squeezes his arms around your waist. You can feel his hands shaking as they clench in your sleep clothes.

“Beau says a lot of shit,” You turn your head to nuzzle your nose against the back of his large ear, hoping to bring some sort of comfort to him. Whatever she said to him has gotten him more worked up than anything you’ve ever seen, “She says a lot of shit and sometimes she doesn’t mean it, and sometimes she doesn’t really get what she’s saying. She’s an empire kid, Caddy, they’re sheltered and unsure and kind of… Well, they’re assholes. Beau is not immune to Empire Kid Asshole Syndrome, just like Caleb isn’t.” He shudders, a fresh round of tears wetting your neck and the fur on his face. “Cad… Caddy, come on, what did she say?”

“We were in Jester’s room,” He begins, voice calm but small, “And she was talking about Tusk Love again. Nott asked a question - about, I don’t know, I think our first time, but I don’t… I’ve never…” You press a kiss against his fur when he begins to work himself up again. He sucks in a shaking breath, “And I told them, and the Beau asked why and… There’s not a reason, I don’t suppose.”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason,” You whisper, “But if you want a reason, the reason is that this is how you’ve chosen to live.”

Caduceus continues like he doesn’t hear you, “She said that there’s no point to having friends, to being so close to you, if nothing will come from it. She said that life is about love and sex and finding someone to share it all with. She said that I was leading you on. That you’re in love with me.”

You whine low in your throat and push on Cad’s shoulders so he’s looking at you. You want him to not only listen to what you’re about to say, but hear it. He looks so sad, ears pulled back and eyes glassy. “I am not in love with you, Caduceus Clay. I love you. There is a difference. Once, yes, I thought that I might have been able to fall in love with you, but I know how you feel. What you feel is real, do you understand?” You pause for him to respond, but he just looks at you. “You do not need love and sex to live life, okay? And love - you have so much of it. I love you. The Mighty Nein loves you. The Wildmother loves you. You have so much love in your life, and if that is enough for you then that’s enough for you. Nobody has any say in what you want from life except you.”

“Am I hurting you? By not being able to fall in love with you?”

“No,” You say firmly, “Your worth is not measured by your ability or desire to fall in love.” Cad shifts on the bed, and you pull him closer, settling your forehead against his, “I’ll talk to Beau in the morning, okay? She will apologize to you - either this is a misunderstanding, or she was being intentionally malicious, but there will be an apology.”

His eyes slip closed, and the sigh that follows shakes as it leaves his body. Some of the tension melts away and you let one of your hands move up his body - making sure he knows you’re aiming for his face - until your thumb can rub soft circles in his cheek. “Do you believe me?” You ask, voice soft as he begins to come down.

“What?”

“Do you believe that you’re not broken? That you just are who you are? That it’s okay?” You press your nose against his for a brief second. Just a moment of comforting intimacy, but you don’t press it. “Do you believe what I said?”

“I’m not sure,” He stutters a little bit, frown tugging slightly at his lips, “I think that I could come to believe it because you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Never,” You promise in a strong voice, despite whispering to him, “I would never lie to you. I’m not lying to you.” You shift a little, twisting your legs with his long and lithe ones, “Let’s get some rest tonight, and I’ll set Beau straight in the morning, okay?” You know he’s already tipping off toward sleep, his body warming and becoming pliant in your arms. Caduceus only hums and nods, one of his ears twitching as your breath hits it when you chuckle. Tomorrow, you’ll bring your wrath down upon Beau - lightly, because you’re almost positive she didn’t mean what she said and probably phrased it horribly wrong. Tomorrow, you’ll set it straight with the rest of the Mighty Nein, too - that not wanting romantic love, or sexual things, does not make someone broken. You’ll educate them and, if you get any pushback, you’ll make sure they know that if Cad walks, you walk.

You’re sure he feels the same way.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #caduceus imagine #caduceus clay imagine #caduceus x reader #caduceus clay x reader #caduceus / reader #caduceus clay / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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tired-mushroomed · 3 years

Note

Christmas is coming!!! So how about some fun Holiday Headcanons for the lads❄️ (Assuming the Dark World has Gyftmas or some similar holiday)

A few I’ve been particularly wondering about:

1) They definitely like to blast Gyftmas Carols on their speakers during the holidays!!!

2) Did Sweet and/or Cap knit any ugly sweaters?

3) Who is the worst at ice skating?

4) K_K would definitely bake a lot of Gyftmas Cookies!

5) fancy stockings with embroidered names and personalized designs!!

6) Several madamoizels who don’t know what Mistletoe is, and have literally no idea why Cap’n has been standing beneath the Weird Ceiling Booger for ten minutes.

7) somethin somethin blizzards bc angst

8) true, true or true: On particularly cold nights, they will gather up a bunch of pillows and blankets from their respective rooms, and all snuggle up in a big cuddle pile next to the fireplace (why do three robots even need a fireplace...?), warm and safe and happy as can be.

hello friends!! hope you’re all staying staying warm and happy :)

1) oh, absolutely!! especially if it’s to mess with the swatchlings and/or Queen, theyre so down to get to blasting illegal songs (and by illegal, i mean songs that drive Queen nuts.) they

2) funnily enough, i’ve headcanonned the whole trio to be knowledgeable in kitting and such!! K_K taught them, Sweet makes the ones that are actually wearable, and Cap’n’s.. trying to keep in touch with his masculinity. (Cap, you’re fine. you’ll show those jerks who’s boss when you have an awesome scarf!!)

that being said, yes, they absolutely do make ugly sweaters!! Cap’n usually starts it off and gifts it to the others as a joke, though K_K always takes the sweater graciously.. Sweet likes to attack Cap’n back with another sweater, and it seems like it never ends. at least they’ll never be cold!!

3) of course, being in touch with music means having great balance!! .. unless you’re Sweet. he’s spent ages getting used to hovering on his turntable. (he’s almost given up at many points, but the others kept encouraging him patiently :))

ice skating, on the other hand.. there were more things than just his circuits that were bruised that day. (but, Cap’n led him around the ice rink and helped him out, without Sweet even realizing!! you should’ve seen the look on Sweet’s face when he realized Cap’n let go.. K_K could’ve died right there and then from the absolute pureness)

4) oh, yes!! you’ve never seen them more determined, and you’ve never seen the kitchen so messy. they are so stubborn when they set their mind, and nothing can stop him from making treats for loved ones. though she does tend to overwork during these times.. good thing the others have their low quality milk png!

5) this is a super cute idea that i agree with!! i can totally see them all exchanging stockings with each other, going great lengths to make it the best they possibly can. and on the off chance that it gets ruined.. you can expect at least a dozen new ones in apology

6) aw man!! that’s so cute yet sad at the same time. sute? cad? it doesn’t matter- poor Cap!! you’d assume someone would at least ask him what he’s doing after the first 20 minutes, but no luck. at least he’s got his favorite robots to comfort him, and make up for it :)

7) [SNNIIIIIFFFF] mm, angst. my natural habitat. there’s so much that can go wrong!! forget everything in number two, make everyone cold. cold and alone and lost, scared and tired, out of sight and maybe.. out of mind.

8) true, true, AND true!! but, what makes you think they don’t do that regularly? these bots make each other so happy by simply being there, you can imagine the warmth they get from just being in each other’s company :)

#a letter for me?#deltarune #sweet cap'n cakes #k_k #get mushroomed!#a little treat :)#cap’n #sweet #oops! long post </3 sorry folks

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

The Alpha and The Omega Part 3

Alpha Maul x Omega Reader

Word Count: 5k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, talk of slavery, mentions of guns and other various bounty hunting shenanigans

PREVIOUS NEXT MASTERLIST

Maul didn’t know what to expect when he entered your ship; he had tried not to have any expectations. The main entrance opened up to the cargo bay that took up the whole footprint of the ship. He could see the cryo-freezer and storage in one corner and made a mental note to look into getting one for his own ship; he may not mind the smell of the bodies he collected but he preferred the idea of handing in quarries that weren’t decomposing by the time he turned them in. Labeled crates of food supplies and ammunition lined the walls along with a surprisingly high amount of medical equipment. The center was left open, for training purposes he guessed. He had thought that this layout was fairly standard for a high-ranking hunter and despite his best efforts not to assume what he would find on the upper level he was astonished.

You obviously lived here full time on the ship you had fondly referred to as the Wolf, the hatch opened up into a hallway from where he could see the door to your cabin left open. He fought the urge to look inside out of respect and followed you through the common area toward the cockpit. He did allow himself to stay a few steps behind you so he could glance around.

The kitchen had been expanded from a small standard kitchenette to a more comfortable cooking space with a large pantry. A quality wooden table sat off to the side with some kind of potted green fern in its center, rather than a flimsy durasteel counter. Plush rugs of different colors had been scattered along the floor and a doorless closet imbedded in the wall showed massive amounts of folded blankets and extra pillows along with other soft looking comfort items. Post cards from countless planets littered the walls surrounding the space. You had even managed to fit a sofa and bookshelf in one of the corners without making it seem over crowded.

He didn’t say a word as he sat in the co-pilot’s chair beside you, setting his worn bag on the floor next to him. You had even managed to decorate this space; warm blankets hung over the backs of the chairs and photos of you with other hunters hung on the walls that lacked control panels. Some of the photos were located in bars, others looked like more traditional hunting parties; friends with their arms around each other in front of massive beasts that lay slain. In one, he recognized the Mandalorian he had met on Tatooine pissing into a Sarlacc pit with you laughing boisterously in the side of the frame with your head thrown back. Something in his hindbrain whispered to him.

Omega makes it home.

He blinked his attention back to you when he realized you had said something.

“You alright Maul?” you asked him again when the fog left his eyes.

“Yes, my apologies, I have just never seen a ship like this before.”

“Yeah, I move around a lot so over the years I made it more comfortable. Easier than having a home base like some of the others try to keep, cheaper too,” Maul nodded in understanding before turning back to you once you had broken through the atmosphere and started tapping away at the nav computer.

“Where are we going for the first quarry?”

“We’ve got a runaway wife of some rich wannabe crime lord. Need to bring her back alive for the whole sum or dead for only twenty five percent. Last seen on Anaxes, guess she liked tinkering with the ships back home, probably hiding out as a mechanic or something there. I want the whole purse. I know you like bringing them back cold but I’m not settling for a fraction of the price.”

“Runaway wife should be easy,” he folded his arms as he studied the hologram the puck projected.

“Should be, I’m not worried about her. She’s young and pretty, I’d be shocked if she didn’t have at least a few guys keeping an eye on her; but them we can kill,” you pulled back a lever and the stars stretched around the Wolf throwing the two of you through hyperspace. You leaned back in the chair and kicked your feet up.

“Listen, I’m not one to beat around the bush. I picked her to grab first because I doubt we’re going to run into a situation with her where my life will depend on you not fucking me over,” you turned your head to meet his eyes that were already on you, “I know you’re a dark force wielder and I know you can feel that I am a force user too.”

Maul’s top lip pulled up in a snarl and his eyes narrowed, “are you a Jedi then? Have you orchestrated this to trap me?!” the hilt of his saber flew out of his pack and into his hand but he hesitated to ignite it when fear pheromones seeped out of you.

Your scent gave you away but your posture didn’t waver, “I used to be, years ago. I was kicked out of the order when my gene presented,” you chuckled, “my master found me naked and writhing on the floor of my room,” your chuckle had grown to full-fledged laughter, your shoulders shook at the memory all but forgetting the pissed off Alpha at your side.

“I- I still remember the look on his face. Fucking horrified when I had my first heat,” you took a breath and wiped a tear from your eye, “they told me I had to leave before I could even face the trials for my knighthood,” your expression turned slightly solemn, Maul had relaxed in the seat next to you. He didn’t think they would throw out one of their own simply because of a biological mutation.

“I’m not doing this to trap you or anything like that Maul,” you turned again to face him, “Bane helped me out after I lost everything I ever knew. I heard a rumor that you didn’t know you were an Alpha until recently either. I’m just trying to return a favor paid to me.”

Maul turned to watch the stars as they flashed by, dropping his saber back into his pack. He hated the Jedi, he had even hunted a few who had left the order or were kicked out after breaking their precious code; but you were different. Cast out because you didn’t fit into their mold, not unlike him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you caught his attention again, “I don’t dislike all of them. It’s been years since I’ve seen any of them but I don’t plan on burning the temples to the ground. If you want help with a bounty or need some underworld information I’m your girl; if you wanna fuck with the Jedi you’re on your own. You and Cad are the only ones who know about that past and I plan on keeping it that way.”

“I understand.”

You stood and nodded to the door, “come on I’ll show you where to put your gear.”

He followed you out of the cockpit and into the common area where you pointed to an empty cabinet, “so, Sith are back huh?”

He went rigid as he put his pack with all its contents still inside on the shelf, “why do you assume I am Sith and not just someone who dabbles in the dark side of the force?”

You leaned against the wall and crossed your arms, “I lived my whole life at the temple. I never saw or heard of you or anyone who looked remotely like you there so I know you’re not a fallen Jedi. You have a light saber so you’re also not some self-taught back water force sensitive individual. That only leaves one option.”

“I’m not a Sith anymore, my master thinks I’m dead and much like your own desire to keep your past private; I’d like to keep it that way as well,” his eyes narrowed again. He was equally annoyed and impressed by your deductions and his hind brain spoke again.

Omega is smart.

He was already tired of this intrusive voice in his head. Perhaps it was a mistake to come with you after all. His scent had turned abrasive in your nose and his signature was wavering.

“Hey, calm down there, Alpha I’m not here to mess up what you’ve got going for yourself. I’m just trying to make sure you’re not going to slice my head off of my shoulders with that pretty red blade of yours.”

“No, I’m not going to kill you. I just want to make a life for myself.”

“Good,” you turned to another cabinet and pulled out a few extra blankets and a pillow and made up the sofa for him, “you can sleep here, it’s more comfortable than it looks, I promise,” with that you turned away from him and made you way to the cabin.

“Oh, ‘freshers the last door down this hall. Won’t be long until we arrive, rest up if you can,” with that the door hissed behind you and locked, leaving him standing alone in front of the sofa with much to ponder. Even out of your immediate presence, your scent permeated the air around him and wafted out of everything in the room. It was difficult to think, surly not all unmated Omegas were so intoxicating. He shook his head and softly walked down the hall and stepped into the fresher.

He almost smiled, almost. Why had he expected a standard washroom? Of course you had a full sized -sanistream shower and a deep tub instead of a sonic. Another plush carpet lay underfoot with soft towels hanging on a bar. Various perfumy bath oils and soaps sat on the counter top in a decorative array along with a few candles. He was starting to wonder if you really were the renowned bounty hunter, ‘Meg, he had heard about or an imposter living a lie. He would soon find out. He splashed some cold water on his face before wandering back to the sofa you had made up for him.

He removed his cloak and kicked off his boots, setting them both to the side before laying down and pulling the blanket over himself. It was soft and warm, more so than anything his master had provided for him. It smelled like you too, he tried not to think about the fact that it gave him incredible comfort and eased both his worry and his tensed muscles. Wrapped in your scent he fell asleep faster than he ever had before in his life.

You did not find sleep on the way to Anaxes. Despite sinking into your soft bed, despite surrounding yourself with all of your favorite pillows and blankets and even trying to meditate, you could not ease your thrumming heart. Why had this Alpha’s scent been so strong? It made your mouth water and your thighs clench. He had released a new wave of soothing pheromones when he fell asleep and yet they did nothing to calm you. You ached to crawl onto the sofa with him and wrap yourself in his arms, to burry your face into his scent gland and bare your throat for him to… Maker what the fuck? You were disgusted with yourself. An ex-Sith and an ex-Jedi? Gods the trouble that would cause, such wonderful, inebriating trouble.. no.

You wanted to comm someone to ask them about it. You couldn’t call Zeni or Coth, they had been trying to set you up with a mate for years, they would tell you to just get it over with. Couldn’t call Fett, it had been awkward to say the least since you gently turned down his offer for courtship. You looked over at the hat that you had just hung from your bed post. Maybe Bane could tell you what this was all about? He had had a mate before and wouldn’t give you the same answer as Zeni. You sighed heavily, missing Master Plo’s wise words and wished to hear his voice again. Would it be a terrible idea to make a stop on Coruscant and try to visit when you had fulfilled your current obligation?

Probably. Maybe not? You huffed frustratedly and buried your face into one of the pillows for the tenth time. Bane, you’d comm Bane when you had a chance after picking up your privately commissioned bounty. Just as you attempted to close your eyes again a quiet beeping rang out from the vambrace you had discarded on your side table. You groaned unabashedly and smacked the button to turn it off. You still had some time and your stomach was grumbling so you didn’t bother to change out of the long shirt and baggy pants you wore. Pride be damned.

Still, you tried to be quiet when you left your room to put the caf on. Your eyes immediately fell on him. Chest rising and falling steadily, wrapped up in the blanket you had given it, he was clutching it to his nose. The crease in his brow and frown on his lips gone; lost in his slumber. He was handsome when he wasn’t irritated, hell he was handsome when he was too. You watched him for a moment a voice in the back of your mind whispering.

Alpha looks warm

Alpha looks safe

Oh fuck no. You grimaced at your Omega brain that rarely reared her head. You turned and started rummaging around the pantry, working by the light that poured out of the door to your room so you wouldn’t wake him.

When Maul did wake, it was to the smell of hot caf and cooking meat. He sat up slowly and looked around before he saw you leaning forward over the counter, face lit by a data-pad, sipping out of a steaming mug. Your eyes flashed up and met his, “Caf?” you offered.

He grunted and nodded his response before standing and making his way behind you, looking through cabinets. You smirked down at your data-pad and without turning to him, held out an empty mug you had gotten for him. He took it with a quiet thank you and filled it. His smokey spice filling your nose in this proximity and without your knowledge, your sweet earthy smell filling his.

He peered over your shoulder at the data-pad you were reading from. With a sigh you pressed a button to it projected the hologram, desperate for a little space you sidestepped slightly. It showed the blue prints for the assembly yard you suspected she had run off to hide in.

“It’s going to be highly populated,” he stated simply.

“We’re not grabbing her from the assembly line. She may have a price on her head but I’m not keen on the idea of explaining that to everyone and their supervisor.”

“Follow her home after her shift then?” he took a long drink of the caf and plated the both of you some of the meat before sitting at the table. At least he has manners.

“Precisely. Boss said she took a bunch of cash with her so I’m guessing she’s got an apartment outside the complex instead of sleeping in the employee housing. I got an idea where she might be working within the facility…”

For the next hour the two of you ate as you pointed out where they worked on the simpler components. Based off of her limited knowledge she was most likely working with less complicated, smaller parts of the ships. You had pointed out the where those were and when he asked how you learned this you showed him how to find and read the blue prints and get the shift change schedules. All tools of the trade so to speak.

You had taken a shower and after landing outside the city, started to gear up in the cargo bay. He watched with a confused look in his eye as you strapped dual blasters into your shoulder holsters and a large knife onto your hip. Pulling on your mid-thigh length coat, you filled one of the pockets on your utility belt with a few darts of different colors and a blow gun on the opposite side.

“Why not just bring your saber?” you must have looked at him like that was the dumbest question he could’ve asked, and it was.

“You’re kidding, right? You are not bringing yours,” you held up your hand and started counting each finger as you spoke, “for one, it’s a highly populated area and we are both in hiding. Two, we’re bringing her in alive and as unharmed as possible. Three, even if we were bringing her in dead, in a low pop area there’s always the chance someone could see and word travels fast. If you’re going to thrive in this line of work, you’re going to have to branch out,” you rummaged through the large locking cabinet before handing him a mid-sized blaster. “It’s set to stun for now,” you pointed to show him how he can set it to kill and got him a knife.

He took them with a growl, “I am quite familiar with other forms of weaponry thank you very much.” You just raised your palms up in mock defeat with a scoff.

Two days. It took you two days of staking out the assembly facility before you found her. Two days of distracting heavy breathes. Laying so close to him, peering through scopes at entrances during shift changes from rocky terrain had you irritable to say the least. At least he was quiet, kept that damn sultry voice to himself. If he was as affected as you, he had the common sense not to let it show. Little did you know; he was. He kept the sights glued to his face so you couldn’t see how blown his pupils were. You let out and audible sigh of relief when you finally did spot the pretty blonde woman. Her hair tied back and a much too large jumpsuit billowing off of her form. You watched as she mounted a speeder bike and took off away from the complex. You had rented one in town when you first arrived claiming to be in the market for a ship.

You turned to Maul already at the controls, he simply nodded his head for you to climb on behind him. He didn’t miss how you jumped at the silent command, despite trying to touch him as little as possible. You kept your eyes on her through the electrobinoculars while he navigated from a safe distance behind her. Your free hand was grasping the loose fabric of his tunic at his lower back. Your touch felt electric to him.

You watched her dismount and silently followed her through the apartment complex, it was run down and had a rusty smell that wafted off the walls. Just before the door could hiss closed behind her your boot caught it, the fail-safe caused it to whoosh open again. As you rushed into the home with Maul on your heels you withdrew your knife and before she could even blink her shock you had spun her around with the blade pressed to her throat.

“Well, you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Now why would a woman such as yourself be running from your doting husband?” you taunted her. You weren’t usually so hostile to unaggressive quarries but you were still bristling at the effect that Maul had on you. Some should-be-dead instinct telling you to show him you were strong. She whimpered as Maul smirked and handed you his set of binders before doing a perimeter scan of the apartment.

“P-please don’t take me back to him. I can’t go back. You must understand. I… I know you do!” Your brow creased at her statement before it hit you. Maul was in the back room so his scent wasn’t fogging your mind and with your nose so close to her scent gland there was no mistake. You bound her hands behind her back and pressed your leg to the back of her knees; forcing her down into a kneeling position on the floor.

“Shit,” Maul reentered the room in a hurry at your curse, eyes searching for some kind of trouble. You watched it hit him as hard as it you. Your eyes locked on him as he sniffed the air and pull his top lip back in a snarl. She was another Omega but, she hadn’t been marked. No Alpha’s scent had mixed with her own and you looked at her as confused as Maul did before she turned her attention to him.

“P-please Alpha. Help me, don’t send me back to that- that monster. Please Alpha…” she was trying to shuffle over to where he stood on her knees. Maul had expected her scent to be as strong as yours was to him. Before this woman, you had been the only unmated Omega he had met but she was nowhere near as intoxicating as you had been, as you are. She was annoying, a nuisance, weak. Nothing worth protecting. You reached down and dragged her by her bound hands back to where you had put her and kneeled in front of her.

“What the fuck are you doing married to a beta?” your finger jabbing her sternum in an accusatory manner.

“I’m not his wife! Fucker bought me!” you cringed at the term. Bane had warned you about Omegas being bought and sold but you had yet to run into any of them.

Maul wanted nothing to do with the woman before him, he saw her as a feeble and overly fragile but a fleeting thought of you being taken by slavers and sold to someone else fluttered through his mind.

No one takes Omega

He growled his disgust at the idea. You thought for a moment, weighing your options.

“Where were you taken, before you were sold?” your eyes held her gaze unblinkingly in the dimmed room, Maul had moved to stand closely behind you.

“Trandoshans, they came and took me from a cantina on Tatooine.”

You rolled your eyes at her so hard you risked giving yourself a headache.

“What in the absolute fuck were you doing on Tatooine without an Alpha to protect you?” you stood and paced around the room, “Fucking stupid ‘mega,” you cursed under your breath but loud enough that she could hear you. “You don’t have to be a hunter to know the whole planet is a slaving capital!”

“I know… I know!” she had dissolved to tears and sobbed her lamentations, “please, please don’t take me back to him!”

“Oh shut up!” you returned and slammed your balled fist into her chin, knocking her unconscious. Maul watched with a pleased grin gracing his face, you pointed your finger in his direction still fuming, “don’t you start with me too. Take her on your bike back to the ship. I’ll take her bike. I have to think about this.”

He growled but kept the smirk while he hoisted her up onto his shoulder. He paused just before passing you utterly amused and whispered, “Ah yes, let the anger fuel you,” before he left. You shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose.

You didn’t want to admit it but he was right. These years of faring on your own had been on one hand, great, incredibly fun even. Living outside the code was unrestricting but, on the other hand, you had wondered if your soul had darkened along with everything else. Times were not always good. You honestly wished you cared. You wanted to care so badly but, in all honesty, you didn’t. At this point in your life the force power you carried was just another blaster in your arsenal. Another set of binoculars in your pack. You didn’t, couldn’t let it guide you like it once had.

To your relief, he had followed your instructions; he had left with her. You took her bike and made your way, a little slowly. Enjoying the fact that you could barely smell him from your current position. You had hoped that you would get used to it but you still hadn’t. ‘The Bitch’ you like to refer to your Omega brain as, her voice just continued to pop up with intrusive thoughts. More so than after being around any other Alpha. You wondered if the woman he carried at the moment had a similar experience.

The hull was open and Maul had loaded the woman and the bike into the cargo bay. She was starting to stir as you brought the bike up next to his. The fear in her eyes returned as her consciousness did and she started to shriek causing both you and Maul to wince. You grabbed a rag and shoved it into her mouth to stifle her sobs. Once again you knelt down next to her, “Maul, tell her to be quiet so that I can explain something to her.”

“Why would she listen to me?” you rolled your eyes.

“Because you’re an Alpha, a particularly… pungent one as well, I’m assuming she lies on the more subservient spectrum as far as Omegas go, she will obey,” you turned your attention back to the woman, tears streaming down her face. As you had guessed she immediately silenced at his command.

“Now then, listen closely. Nod if you understand me,” the woman nodded still wide eyed at you, “good. I have to take you back. If I don’t the bounty will remain open and someone else will come to collect. You can’t just run off again either. Well, you could, but odds are your ‘husband’ would just rehire me to come pick you up and he pays well so I would take it. You have two options. One, return and play the good wife and deal with whatever comes with it. Two,” you reached into your pack and took out two differently colored capped darts, “I slip these into your bra, you let me freeze you like a good little girl and return you home to collect my pay. After he unfreezes you, you stab him with the green one to knock him out; anywhere in his body. Then inject the black one into his neck to kill him. Once he’s dead you can escape and no one will bother to come looking for you because there will be no one to put a bounty on you.”

She weighed your words heavily and you practiced your patience, truly sympathetic to the woman. You were an exception, Omegas were strong yes but, most were incredibly subservient; even without an Alpha. She mumbled something behind the gag and you scoffed before removing the rag and she gasped.

“I want the darts,” her conviction was steadfast and you breathed a sigh of relief, “put me in the freezer with them and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You reached your hand into her shirt with a slightly apologetic look while you nestled each dart under an individual breast, she nodded her thanks after you reminded her which was which and helped her to her feet. You gave her one last look before taking the binders off. Maul watched you hesitantly as you guided her into the freezing chamber. She gave you a sad yet thankful smile, it was slight but as you pressed the buttons and activated the gasses it froze on her face. Soon, she’d be free. You guided the block into the freezer storage and locked the door behind her before allowing yourself to ungraciously slide down the wall until your rump hit the floor with a soft thud.

Almost forgetting you weren’t alone you tossed your hat to the side somewhere and ran your fingers through your hair and rubbed one of your eyes, exhausted from her emotional affliction.

Maul could smell your distress, his instincts told him to comfort you, to hold you and tell you that everything would be alright. That he’d protect you, that he’d never let anyone lay a finger on you. That your fate would never become hers. Instead, he settled for sitting beside you with his legs crossed, without looking at you he spoke, staring down at his feet, “you gave her a way to take her own freedom.”

You hummed, just acknowledging that you heard him and sat next to him in silence for a few minutes. His pheromones were comforting, his presence was soothing and for the first time you didn’t fight the effect they had on you.

Alpha will protect me.

Once again you shook ‘the bitch’ away and made your way to the cockpit. You flew closer to the shop you rented the bike from and opted to keep the other Omega’s for yourself. While Maul was returning the bike, you pressed a few buttons on your vambrace, calling Bane. Within a few moments the side of his face appeared in the hologram. Blaster fire whizzing by his head.

“You alright ‘Meg?” that raspy voice you loved sounded frustrated with whatever mess he was currently in.

“Yeah I’m fine, listen I got a question for you when you’re not busy.” He took a second to face you head on with a smirk, “What makes you think I’m busy?” as if on que a bolt took the hat right off his head and he cursed. You laughed and shook your head.

“Just contact me soon, don’t die out there old man.” He grunted in response and the hologram dissipated right as Maul was sitting down in the copilot’s chair.

“One down, where to next?” he eyed the comm that Bane had appeared from warily.

“Smuggler fucked over Jabba, a Talz. Last seen heading towards Hoth; no doubt to escape the heat literally and figuratively and hide amongst the Wampa. Can you take us up? I’m starving.” He nodded and took your seat while you headed back to the common area. You doubled over and clutched your stomach, “shit,” the pain all too familiar but coming much too early.

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sockablock · 4 years

Text

The fires dance and shimmer over Vo, but only on the beaches, and not with any fear.

Instead, there is laughter singing through the trees. There is singing, too, warm and bright, the sound of two dozen amateur dancers cheering in the moonlight.

Somewhere, Yasha is helping a hunter cut logs for the blaze. Somewhere, Jester is telling stories to children about an unknown world. Somewhere, Beau is criticizing a cask of island-wine, and getting very drunk. Somewhere, Veth and Caleb are helping a very old woman fix a watch.

Fjord straightens up and sticks his poker into the sand, watching the embers go out with a little hiss. He stretches, loosening his neck and wincing when his bruises argue back. He’d gotten thrashed around Vokodo’s cavern pretty hard at the end, there, but most of the firebloom burns are gone now, and between two clerics and a vengeful druid, he doesn’t have much to complain about.

He glances around the beach and can smell the first sizzle of cooking meat. Something fruity hovers past, and he can hear Beau’s singing growing louder.

And then, he notices something else, in the corner of his vision. Past the celebration, farther down the shore, sitting on the sand with his knees against his chest—

It’s Caduceus. His outline is purple in the twilight.

Fjord considers the fire. The music, and then he leaves the poker to finish smoldering by itself.

By the time he’s nearly reached Caduceus, the merriment of the bonfire is barely a hum amid the turning tides. Light carries farther, though, and here it reflects an orange sea across the starry waves. It would be beautiful, it is beautiful, although it reminds Fjord a little too much of their last fight. He ignores it, instead focusing on the seated shape in front of him.

“Caduceus, you’re going to miss the food at this rate."

There is no immediate answer. Fjord stops, and raises his brow.

"Caduceus? Oh, shit, is this a vegetarian thing? We should’ve said something earli...er...”

In this light, his friend is mostly shadow, but for a second it almost looks as if Caduceus raises an arm, wipes his face...

Fjord stops. He dares himself to have seen it wrong, and blinks.

"...Caduceus?!” This time, he is shouting. “Cad, is...everything alright?!”

It could be the waves, but for a second, a sniffle, and then—

“Oh, Mister Fjord, I didn’t hear you c—”

“Are you crying?”

Fjord clears the distance in a second, scattering sand everywhere. A part of him instantly curses the decision, why in the world would you rush at him—but another part, the honest part, the deeply confused part, is too worried to do anything else.

But Caduceus...laughs. It’s more stilted than it should be, though then again, Cad’s always been a weird one, in a special way—

Until Fjord sees the tears. There are two streaks of dampness matting Cad’s fur.

“Oh,” he says, before he can stop himself.

There is a flash in Caduceus’s eyes. It is so small, so brief, so hidden away, that if Fjord had not been staring at him, he would have missed it entirely.

It’s panic. Caduceus says, “No, don’t mind me, Mister Fjord, I think I might’ve gotten carried away.”

Fjord’s mouth opens. It closes. It opens again.

“Carried away?”

“Just a bit.”

Fjord manages to stop gawking on the third try. He drops down, wincing a little at the sharp movement but ending in a determined, eye-level squat.

“Carried away,” he repeats.

Caduceus does not meet his gaze. His voice, when it finally does comes, is more unsteady than Fjord has ever heard.

“I, ah, I think...today was just a lot. It was...there was a lot.”

“Yes, well...yeah,” Fjord says, and tries to shuffle his back into Cad’s face. More sand kicks up around his ankles. “We did fight a fake fire god and nearly set off a volcano. Then again, that sort of thing feels somewhat standard for us.”

Caduceus coughs, and only after a second does Fjord realize it’s a laugh.

“We, we do certainly get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Right,” says Fjord, still slightly mystified. He glances around the beach, sees Caduceus still avoiding him, hears the raucous melody of cheering far behind.

He looks up. He looks down. Then:

“...can I sit?”

There’s a vague gesture in response. Fjord accepts this as an answer.

The sand is cool. The wind sweeps across his hair.

“I’m...not very...I think I might have a reputation for being somewhat unobservant,” he says, after a pause. “Sometimes. But...I don’t think I’m a fool, Caduceus. Though even a fool could see that you’re upset.”

“I’m n—”

“I’m not done.” He looks up. Far, far above them, the stars glimmer bright. “I think...I think...that although I wasn’t there to see it initially, I believe that ever since you came to join our little troupe, your presence has been very good for us. I worry that...maybe, we haven’t returned the favor.”

“Favor?” Caduceus chuckles. “There’s no favor to return.”

There is a weight to Fjord’s silence.

“Hm. I wonder about that.”

Caduceus feels his brow furrow. He tries to stop it, but it does.

“Mister Fjord,” he says softly, “I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Right,” Fjord nods. “In that case...it’s a failing on our part.”

The waves ebb and flow on the shore. They are far away enough not to fear getting wet, but close enough still to taste the salt breeze.

“Why are you upset?” Fjord murmurs. “Is it...was it the fight? Are you hurt, or—”

“Oh, no. Not me.”

He glances over.

“Then...?”

Caduceus stares at the ground. His boots are off, and little grains of sand cling to his armor.

“Do you...ever feel...frustrated, Fjord?”

“Hah! Is that really your question?”

When the pause carries on, Fjord clears his throat.

“Er...yes, Caduceus. I do.”

“What about guilty? Very guilty.”

“Uh...sure, I think so. Maybe not...I’m not so sure to what degree you’re talking, here, but I’ve definitely had regrets.”

“And...what about feeling like you’re a burden?”

Fjord leans back on his palms. “Caduceus, are we just going down the list of how I go about my day?”

“No,” and when Caduceus chuckles, Fjord can see a little gleam of moonlight against his fur. “I’m, ah, I’m going down mine.”

“Oh.”

“It’s...it was bad on this island. It was...I felt those things...a lot. And, well,” he gives another laugh, “well, it sort of came to a head down in that tunnel.”

Fjord considers this.

“The...”

“The underwater one,” Caduceus says. “When the...the fireblooms opened all around us and I...lost to Vokodo.”

Fjord blinks. “You mean...oh, well...plenty of us had fallen to him at that point, didn’t we? I mean, Yasha forgot the name of her wife and Jester lost her beard oil, er, my beard oil, and I forgot Vandren, and...”

He trails off, when he sees Cad look up.

“Right,” says Caduceus, “I forgot things too. But...I did something worse. I hurt you.”

Fjord hesitates. “You...didn’t really—”

“I did,” says Caduceus. “I fought against you. I blinded you. And you spent all your spells on me, and when the fight started, you couldn’t defend yourself, and got even more injured.”

“Well,” says Fjord, with as much certainty as he can muster, “I don’t know if...three spells would’ve really changed much.” Then he pauses again, and adds, “Not, uh, not that the gifts of the Wildmother are anything to scoff at. You know.”

Behind them, smoke pours up into the sky. They can’t smell it from here, but the feast is beginning, all joining in together to celebrate, save for two.

“They aren’t,” Caduceus says slowly, “but...do you want to know something, Fjord?”

“Er...of course.”

He also leans back. Also takes a second to breathe deep by the sea.

“In that moment, when I...fell to Vokodo. It was...exhilarating. It...it felt...it felt like...well,” he murmurs a laugh. “It felt like, for a second I had a purpose again.”

Foam dissolves into the sand. Far, far away, a hermit crab surfaces.

“A...purpose?”

“A mission. A goal, a journey, a...a divine reassurance that I was on the right path. It’s something that I...haven’t had since I saw my family.”

“You...wait, really? Why?”

“Well,” Caduceus gives a shrug. “Well, I suppose it’s because I did fulfill that purpose. We got the green glass. We visited the Dusts, and then the Stones, and my family went home to save the Grove. That was all I dreamed about, all that I knew I had to accomplish for...for decades. And we...did it. I did it. And now...it’s over.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And now...I’m just here. I have faith that she’s guiding me to where I need to go, but...where? Why? And...sometimes, even that is...even that feels...”

Fjord turns, and sees Caduceus staring at him. His hair is a tangle tripping down his back. His eyes are hesitant, shining in the moonlight.

“Sometimes...when I am with you all,” he says quietly, “sometimes I just feel...free.”

The waves come and go. The tiny hermit crab faces down an endless, churning, ever-flowing sea.

“She likes freedom, doesn’t she?” Fjord murmurs. “Isn’t that...I mean...that’s what she’s meant to me.”

Caduceus smiles. It’s a half-risen thing. “She meant duty to the Clays. A legacy to fulfill. A home to tend to, a garden to grow, people and family to take care of.”

Fjord meets his gaze. “Is that what you want?”

Caduceus doesn’t answer right away. When he does:

“...I don’t know anymore. Sometimes...I think I want to tend to our friends. Take care of them. Help you all grow to where you can be.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

They are quiet for a moment. Then:

“What about other times?” Fjord murmurs. “What about then?”

Caduceus glances up. He takes in the thousands of stars above him, watches a thousand lights fade and glow.

“It can be scary to not have a purpose.”

“I managed. I managed for...oof, maybe thirty years?”

“Did you like it?”

Fjord shrugs. “I didn’t know anything else. Then, for a while, I thought my purpose was to fill a role. Be a captain. Become powerful. But...I didn’t much like that.”

“No,” Caduceus chuckles. “I didn’t think you did.”

“In a way, though,” Fjord sighs, “I mean...I don’t really know if I have a purpose either. Most of the time...I’m just here. I’m just...doing my thing. As a member of the Mighty Nein. I’m helping our friends as much as I can, and I’m getting to see the world. And learn new things. And...in doing so, I...well, I think maybe I’ve been more free than I ever had been. Maybe that’s a purpose. Even if it doesn’t feel like, I dunno, divine providence, or whatever, I’m...I’m still happy doing it. I love our friends. I think that’s enough.”

“Yes,” Caduceus says quietly. “I...I’m happy with them too.”

“Well, there you go, then!” Fjord taps him on the arm. “Maybe that’s all you really need. And I’m sorry it doesn’t feel...feel like a godly mission, but it still should be worth hanging onto, no?”

When he glances back, Caduceus is still looking at him.

“Right,” he echoes. “I think it is.”

Maybe it’s the beach, or the heat from the bonfire, but Fjord can feel his face getting a little warm. He coughs.

“I hope, er, that helped. I don’t know if that’s...good advice, to turn other people into your purpose. Because now that I think about it, it does still sort of sound like that whole garden-tending thing, which is a little contradictory—”

“Fjord?”

“Um, yes?”

“It helped.”

“Oh, good.”

“Fjord?”

“...um. Yes?”

Caduceus’s eyes are turned to the sky.

“I want to be free, too. But...I would like to be free with everyone else. And with you.”

Fjord coughs again. Though it isn’t as sharp. And the warmness is nice.

“I’d like that too.”

They sit there on the beach for a while after that. Later, perhaps, their friends will realize that they are missing, and come calling for them. Later, perhaps, there will be food to share and island-wine to drink and songs to sing. Later, they will sleep in huts beneath the stars and even after that, much, much later, perhaps there will even be a new path, a new journey, a new mission to follow and a new purpose to chase.

But all that will happen later. For now, all there is, is the sound of the waves, the brush of wind, and freedom, together.

— — —

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conceptstage · 4 years

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Caleb was surprised when he got up out of bed and heard voices in the library. It wasn’t unusual for Beau to beat him to the library in the morning, she usually headed straight there after her morning exercises, but it was a little bit early for anyone else to be up and moving and he couldn’t think of anyone who might have joined her there. He hummed thoughtfully and stepped inside.

He found Beau first, sitting on the window sill with her feet propped in her chair because she had never met a chair she wanted to sit in properly. She had a book open in her lap, reading by the sun rise with a golden star burst in her hair. She was looking at her book but talking out loud, her eyes a little bit manic and her hand dancing in time with her words in the air.

Beau glanced up when the door opened and she waved before turning back to her book. “Morning, Cay. I had a thought last night about Eiselcross, I was just explaining it to Yasha.”

Caleb looked around and spotted Yasha in the chair behind the door. She gave him an awkward smile and wave as he shut the door behind him. “Good morning,” she said stiffly.

“Morning, Yasha. What idea is this?” He walked over to the bookshelf and started scanning for the one he had started last night.

Beau grinned and sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. “Alright, get this, there is an island there, Gelier, and it’s said to be the tomb of Quajath, the Undermaw.” She paused but Caleb just blinked at her as he tried to place the name. She groaned in frustration and gestured to Yasha. “You know, the giant worm thing!”

Yasha’s eyes were wide but she nodded and smiled in understanding. “Yes, The Undermaw, of course.”

Beau got excited again. “And remember, when Fjord was breaking Uka’toa’s bindings, there was one picture of a Phoenix and one picture of a giant worm thing. Uka’toa had three temples but there were nine symbols in total, remember, three for each creature. It all comes back to fucking nine. Nine eyes with the vision of the city, nine symbols in the temple, Molly’s nine eye tattoos, it keeps popping up.” Caleb still looked at her blankly.

“Is the number nine… relevant?”

Beau huffed and hopped to her feet. “Yasha gets it, don’t you Yash?”

Yasha just nodded sharply. “Oh, uh, yes. Of course.”

Beau picked up a mug from the table and frowned at it, then sat her book on the chair that her feet had just vacated. “I’m going to get more coffee and then we’ll talk more about this. I’ve got some theories.” Then she disappeared out the door and shut it behind her.

Caleb turned to Yasha with a frown on his face. “Do you actually understand what she was talking about? If so, could you explain it to me?”

Yasha sighed and shrugged. “Honestly, Caleb, I have no idea. It all sounds very smart so I’m sure she’s right, but I was hoping that you could explain it to me.”

He hummed thoughtfully and plucked his book from the shelf. “I mean, I suppose I can see where she’s coming from. I wonder if she’s taken the recurring themes of hunger into her hypothesis, I’ll bring it up to her.” He sat down in the chair by the window, moving Beau’s book to sit on the windowsill instead. “Why did you tell her that you understood if you didn’t?”

Yasha cleared her throat and, as Caleb watched, her face started to turn a subtle shade of red. She stared at her fingers, twisting them nervously. “She was very passionate about sharing her idea with me. And she looks very pretty when she gets excited like that. I thought… I thought that if she knew that I didn’t understand that she would stop.”

“Ah,” Caleb chuckled, flipping open to his bookmark. “I see. You could let her know that, even though you don’t understand, you’d be happy to keep listening. Sometimes, explaining or teaching something to someone else can give you a better understanding of it yourself. It might help her work through any blocks she has if you let her explain it to you.”

Yasha looked up and met his eyes. “Really? It would help her?”

Caleb shrugged. “It helps me. When she and I go to the library together we often teach each other about what we’ve read and it seems to help us both.”

Yasha opened her mouth to say something else but the door opened then and Beau walked in with a steaming mug. “Cad’s up making coffee and tea if you guys wanna go put in orders,” she said, taking a sip. She glared at Caleb as she retook her seat on the window sill and rested her feet in his lap. He sighed and frowned at her and she shrugged. “You stole my foot rest.” She took another sip before picking up her book and flipping to the page she’d left off on. “Now, what was I talking about?”

Yasha cleared her throat. “Actually, Beau? I’m not sure that I understood what you said about the crash of Aeor, would you mind explaining that to me again?”

Beau grinned and flipped back in her book to an earlier section. “Well, it was held up by a shit ton of brumstone. Like, have you ever seen a flying ship? Like that but on a way bigger scale.”

As Beau continued, excitedly spewing the knowledge that she had gathered, Caleb glanced up to watch Yasha’s face. Yasha was watching Beau’s passion with a small smile on her face, her eyes soft. Every now and then she would ask a question but mostly she just watched Beau with awe in her eyes. Caleb swallowed a little smile and turned back to his book, knocking Beau’s feet out of his lap. She hardly noticed.

#critical role #critical role fic #beauyasha #empire siblings #beauregard #caleb widogast #yasha nydoorin #i don't know #long post

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the-matron-of-ravens · 3 years

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I’ve gotten a few asks about how I’m feeling about the end of campaign 2 and the fight/ pre-finale last night. So I’m going to say 1) MAJOR spoilers incoming and 2) a reminder that critique or concerns are not hate.

I’ll start with the elephant in the room. I’m so so so glad Molly has been resurrected and while I wish we could see more of his journey I’m still so happy he’s back. Unequivocally excited and thrilled and relieved.

This also lives alongside my feelings of Lucien and him being the BBEG and the decisions made there. I know some folks are split on whether or not Molly’s death counted as a Bury Your Gays moment. To be brutally honest, I’m not interested in that conversation. It was that kind of moment for me and it’s okay if it wasn’t a BYG moment for you.

But because it was that kind of moment for me, and I’ve always been upfront about this: I had a lot of feelings around Lucien and him being the BBEG. Specifically the choice to let a main queer character stay dead to the party but then choose to resurrect that character (with another soul/spirit whatever) for the express purpose of making them the BBEG.

Why did I have a problem with this? Couple of reasons.

The queer, flamboyant character secretly being Evil or Bad or Not to Be Trusted is a tired trope seen by every gay alive tbh. And I had no interest in seeing it again.

The true is also the same for the reverse where BBEG characters are queer coded to all hell. Which Lucien also was, as he routinely flirted with Caleb. Again, just falls into homophobic tropes I’m not cool with.

With the decision of Lucien to be the BBEG, it put the party (and the fanbase) in the position to have to see their friend die not just once but twice AND they had to be the ones to kill him the second time. I just wonder if anyone stopped to consider what it’d be like for some fans to have to watch their favorite character be killed (again) by the M9? Especially queer fans who the last things we wanted was to see Molly be killed yet again.

Others have probably phrased that way better than I have, but I just honestly don’t think it was in good taste. And while, of course, not every queer/LGBTQ CR fan feels like I do, I also know I’m not the only one that feels this way.

I honestly just wish there was some or any recognition on the impacts of this decision from the CR cast or Matt specifically. Not to burn them at the stake, but just to know that they hear what we’re saying and understand our viewpoint. But from what I’ve seen this is only being interpreted as “poetic” and “beautiful” and that’s not great tbh.

I’m gonna bookend the concerns with happy thoughts and hopes, because I legitimately love CR and am excited for what’s next.

I really really really hope Shadowghast becomes canon next week. Now THEIR connection is what I call poetic. And from the beginning they’ve felt like planets suddenly locked in each other’s orbits destined to collide and either destroy each other or merge to something bigger and more beautiful than before. I’m hoping for the latter.

I’m so excited for Yasha to be able to stop fighting and rest and just find some peace for the first time in maybe ever. Maybe her and Beau will get to Zuala’s grave finally. Maybe Yasha will play the bone harp for her. I think that would be lovely.

I’m so excited for Cad and Veth to be able to go home and just be with their families for a while.

To be honest, I have NO idea what Jester (and Fjord by proxy) is gonna do. I’m just excited to see. I figure Fjord will follow Jester to the ends of the earth. Rather that’s at the edge of a volcano, the Astral Sea, or going back home to Officially Meet the Parents.

I would really love for some hints about what is going to happen with the Cerberus Assembly. I’ll be honest, am I disappointed that that’s not happening in the main campaign. Yeah, definitely. I feel like the whole campaign that was being built up as an inevitable clash and it not happening feels weird and off. But what would feel worse is if it’s just not addressed at all, so I hope there’s a hint of what’s coming next there.

Last but not least.

I’m so fucking excited for campaign 3. I love the unveiling of new characters, new relationships and dynamics, new setting. We get ASHELY JOHNSON HOME THE ENTIRE TIME. I personally am hoping for Marquet but Issylra would be good too.

#critical role #cr spoilers #CR #Crit Role #I’m going to tag this for discourse just in case #I don’t really think it is but better to be safe than sorry #cr disk horse #cr discourse

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Redux! Oct. 13, 2020)

Gooooood evening good evening good evening, all! I started the VOD late for this recap and somehow the first four or so minutes of the show have a Twitch audio copyright claim, so I am reduced to only reading Brian's lips when he asks if we're on the internet. Hilariously, Marisha's background room is a comfy-looking blue/gold fabric wall with a ceramic colorful abstract lamp and a yellow silk scarf over the lampshade, and Taliesin's is an industrial looking games room in grey and black with multiple monitors, overhead speakers, and mysterious metal fixtures behind him. What a treasure this group is, honestly.

Tonight's guests: Marisha Ray & Taliesin Jaffe, discussing episodes 110 and 111 again. I wildly speculate once more about what might have caused their absence: jury duty? Sam appearing on The Masked Singer? Something to do with the animated show? One day, we’ll know, one day... (One day this “copyrighted audio” section will come back from the wars, too. Ugh!) Finally! The audio comes back to reveal Brian discussing the endless reality of digital meetings and Marisha talking about (I think) her glare-reducing glasses she’s wearing. Welcome to the New Age (welcome to the New Age, to the New Age).

Announcements: Marisha suggests checking out Dimension20, another live tabletop gaming group, which premieres live on Wednesdays at 4pm (CollegeHumor).

Brian immediately wants to know how they feel about the revelation that Molly is alive. Taliesin’s personal reaction: he “knows some things” he can’t talk about and is aware of several possibilities that might be going on, but had a sneaking suspicion that there would not be a body for them to find. He says it’s almost all there for anyone to see in past material. Marisha’s personal reaction: she just wants to know how she’s doing with her theories, & was trying to block Tal’s face out deliberately as she was going off on her theories in the last episode. Taliesin says he thought her ideas were pretty good!

Cad has no clue what to think - it’s like listening to your friends talk about Buffy. Marisha thought it was a 50/50 Molly would still be there, but Beau had no idea. Not that it mattered, because as soon as Matt went through with it the reveal still blew their minds. Tal laid out his plans for the character with Matt during Campaign One (towards the end) after they all got their VM tattoos.

It is a “horrifying and gross” thing to dig up a body, and Beau was pretty reluctant to do it. Tal, as Cad: “Sometimes dead’s better.” The moral quandary of trying to speak with a dead friend was very different here than the frequent occasions they used the spell in C1.

Taliesin says his poker face is very bad, so it’s easier for him to over-react and let it all play out. The only other player he can see very easily from his place in their current setup is Travis, and because he knows Travis doesn’t watch TM, tweet, or participate in social media, he admits he thoroughly enjoyed watching Travis freak out at his freaking out. He says he only knew about 20% of what Matt described at the end of that episode. He was picking things to mug to increase Travis’s surprise. I love this so much.

Taliesin provided the table left leg shake; Travis provided table right. Ha!

Beau is really accepting her role in the Cobalt Soul. It’s good when “as a person, you feel like you can settle into your calling. Sometimes you can do more from the inside than fighting from the outside.” It’s a mirrored but opposite path of Keyleth from C1; Beau felt like she was too good for her duty, while Keyleth thought she wasn’t good enough.

Caduceus is not a big believer in jumping to conclusions. He does have an idea/notion of the “city of the undead” and thinks all this necrotic energy must come from somewhere, and wonders if this is the “capital of anti-death.” He’s willing to believe whatever he sees. This is one of the few things that trigger a bit of loathing and disgust in him. It was terrifying that the Wildmother didn’t know anything.

Beau is pretty confident in her Charlie Day impression laying-out-the-research last episode. She enjoyed taking the things that were known & extrapolating around them; this is a huge facet of Marisha’s own personality and she really enjoys it, so she built a character this time that would allow that kind of puzzle-solving. It’s also why she repeatedly notes when Beau journals, so she can avoid metagaming. Trent’s mention of Vess Durogna’s tomb raiding was completely circumstantial, and the only reason she’d made the connection to the Tombtakers was because she’d recently reviewed those notes for a separate unannounced project. Sometimes she tries to make connections and Matt is like, “It was...just descriptive. Just flavor. The curtains were red...” and she has to discard a paragraph of notes. She feels like it’s still something they have to do because of “look at what he does! Look! It’s totally valid!”

Cosplay of the Week: @kitsunstudios with a gorgeous Caduceus with a very intricate silk vest.

Caduceus’s takedown of Trent! One of my favorite moments in the entirety of C2. Taliesin felt Trent was an asshole; Caduceus felt sorry for him because of how dumb he thought he was. Caduceus’s response was "this is the dumbest man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s so dumb! Is nobody going to tell this guy how dumb he is? Oh, they’re all freaked out. Somebody needs to tell this guy he’s an idiot before somebody gets hurt.” (Marisha: “Before?”) Tal says it was the product of several years of therapy and many drunk conversations with Whitney Moore. It was from a genuine place of concern from Caduceus. “How are you allowed to have this much power and be that dumb?”

Brian loved how funny it was to watch everyone tiptoe around Trent and then Caduceus bulldoze through the end of the meal.

Taliesin: “Damage doesn’t make you interesting or better. It’s not what makes you good. Character isn’t found in damage. Just recovery.”

Brian & Marisha commiserate going through the stage where believing surviving something automatically made you a stronger person, better for the pain; instead it just meant you had to pick up the pieces after. Marisha talks about how strength through survival may be true for some people, but it shouldn’t be considered a necessity. Taliesin talks about how he used to think he had to be miserable to write. Brian talks about how believing he liked reading and writing miserable things only limited him for years.

Marisha feels it’s a C2 theme that almost all the PCs have someone trying to handwave or take credit for their accomplishments or explain their pain as being for their own good (Trent, Beau’s dad, Obann). She thinks it’s interesting to see all the various ways people try to take credit for your work/delegitimize you as a person. She loves that RPGs allow you to explore these odd moralities in interesting ways. The only way to fight it is to have a sense of your own self-worth, which is a problem a lot of the M9 started with.

Caduceus likes everyone, and really likes people who appear to need role models (Eodwulf). “With the right friends and the right bar and the right attitude, I think he’d be okay. Come over here where it’s so much better. That seems like an exhausting friendship that you have there.”

Marisha loves the mix of personalities in the M9; Veth, Cad, & Jester were all “we kind of like them!” after the dinner, and she immediately made eye contact with Travis and they both shook their heads. She knows Beau has to go along with it for Caleb’s sake for now, but she & Fjord are pretty sus of Trent’s proteges.

Beau is less concerned about Artagan’s relationship to Jester because “he showed his ass--she’s less worried about Jester now because a little of the magic is gone.” It’s a little like becoming an adult and realizing your parents are also just adults & human. Caduceus wasn’t suspicious of the Traveler for a long time until they got to the island. Aside: Taliesin loves the pantheon in D&D. “The notion of attempting to apply common Western conceptions of religion to a world where you have a pantheon of interventionist gods as baseline makes no sense to me. Everyone admits that every other god is there and doing shit; it has more in common with ancient Rome than anything else.” Now that he knows it was a con, he feels the wind had been taken out of it. He does have a sense that Jester’s gotten back together with an ex: “I hope that I’m really happy for you.” They’re both interested to see how Jester navigates the new relationship.

My internet goes out, of course. I panic for a second, thinking I’ve lost everything above, but all is well! Thanks, Form History Control addon!

Marisha loved punching Artagan, but regretting rolling so poorly. “I miss violence.” Dani lets us know it’s been about four episodes since the last battle.

There’s no way the Cobalt Reserve doesn’t have a single document on the Eyes of Nine. Beau believes “there are no real secrets” because people are just bad at not writing things down. For there to be no information at all seems really suspicious for her.

Fanart of the Week: @oddalchemist on twitter with some awesome Beau conspiracy red-thread boards overlaid a distant shadowy Molly walking away.

Caduceus feels a little guilty for really enjoying his time right now with the M9 and not wanting to go home. He’s starting to suspect that he’s going to go home very different than when he left. “He has the softest problems. I don’t know if I want to move back in with Mom & Dad.”

Beau is trying to get comfortable with the idea of being happy. Jester is probably Beau’s first real best friend & one of the first healthy female friendships she’s ever had. As long as she still has Jester in her life, she doesn’t care. For Yasha... “At the end of the day, Beau is a lonely person and has always been a lonely person. And I think you kinda reach this point where once you’re not lonely anymore, you can kind of come out of the fog and realize that was horrible! And terrifying! And is even more terrifying now that I know what I could have, and I don’t want to go back to that. At the end of the day Beau doesn’t want to be lonely anymore. There’s always been that flirtation with Yasha, but everyone had to figure their own shit out. And now it feels like it’s coming out a little bit of that haze, maybe this actually could be...” There are a lot of ways they complement each other & are good-different from each other. Marisha believes people can be attracted to more than person at once.

Caduceus doesn’t think nature turned against him on Rumblecusp, it was just a reality of nature being dangerous and violent. “He has a complex relationship with nature.” He doesn’t expect special treatment.

Thoughts on the mansion: “Man, it’s nice to be seen.” Marisha: “I don’t know how I ended up becoming the Scanlan of this campaign, but I’m living for it.” It felt like an echo of “I’m better for having known you.” They compare Marisha taking specific notes on the campaign to Liam taking specific notes on people’s favorite tapestries, comics, etc.

They talk about missing theme parks and daydream a park version of the mansion in CritRoleLand. It’s lovely.

Taliesin never expected Divine Intervention to work; he just wanted to roll some dice. He’s still processing what he saw/heard. They all agree it was very useful in the Vokodo fight.

Vilya! Marisha: “Ah! Ah! Ah!” As a player, Marisha was so deep in Beau’s eyes she didn’t pick up it was Vilya at first (especially since Matt really emphasized they should not be looking for C1 NPCs). Marisha’s brain melted. She bawled her eyes out on the ride home after that episode. Right after it ended, Laura told Marisha “Keyleth finally gets her happy ending,” and it makes Marisha emotional again since Keyleth’s story ended so bittersweetly. She talks about the very real feelings of “just wanting them to be happy, though!” She went back and listened to all her old Keyleth playlists. Everyone was teary after the episode. “Everyone has these 100% real memories of being these characters and having these good times.”

And that’s that for that! Thanks for your patience, all, and is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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professorthaddeus · 3 years

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Out of Sight

This is a companion piece to @io-kj-cr‘s heartbreaking fic, Decisions, an AU of 2x128 where Caleb gives himself up to Trent. Would highly recommend checking it out!

also on ao3

——————————

They let him go.

The chips were down, they were out of options with enemies at the door, Mama and Yeza and little Luc were not going to be trapped in a building with Icky-thong, and in that moment of weakness, they let him go.

“Cad, what do you see?” Fjord, grim. Caduceus is standing at the one window in the room, chosen for his keen ability to read people to keep an eye on the exchange.

The exchange. They’re selling Caleb back to the grossest person in the Empire, to his literal lifelong tormentor, and they’re just sitting here like it’s nothing.

“They’re not hurting him. They’re just talking.” Caduceus’ voice rumbles in a steady cadence, ever the rock in the rapids. But Jester sees how his knuckles are clenched white around his staff.

“Is he… how does he look?”

Veth, piping up from the floor, clutching Caleb’s spellbooks to her chest. Yeza’s holding her, Luc sitting uncharacteristically still by their side. He’s got a book in his hands as well. Jester’s heart thuds painfully when she recognizes the title as a collection of Zemnian fairy tales.

“He’s standing tall.”

Of course he is. They’ve all seen Caleb file away his fears and stitch himself together in the moments that really count. They’ve also seen him shake apart immediately afterwards.

This time, none of them are going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

“This doesn’t sit well with me,” Yasha says quietly, fingers twitching toward her swords.

“Yeah, no shit.” Beau, pacing, coiled like she’s ready to pounce. “This was such a bad plan. I say we go ahead and attack them now. They’re busy with Caleb, so we could absolutely ambush them in a pincer move, or—“

“They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Beau rushes to the window, where Caduceus is stepping aside. He leans back against the wall, looking lost in a way Jester hasn’t seen since his first time on the sea.

“I mean he and his friends stepped into a portal and disappeared.”

Beau’s jaw tightens. “They’re not his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Fjord murmurs, though Jester knows he would definitely be fuming as well if Beau wasn’t so close to the edge right now. “They did warn us they were coming.” He holds up his hands when Beau shoots him a withering look. “It could be a good thing. They might help us get him back.”

“With or without their help, I wasn’t kidding when I said our next step was going to be a jailbreak,” she mutters.

“Agreed.”

Veth lets out a shaky breath. “And he’ll be okay until then. He just has to hold on for one night, and we’ll go get him. He’s the smartest, most capable of us all; he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’s way more powerful than them,” Jester adds, automatic. Something twists in her chest.

“Sure, except he doesn’t even have his fucking spellbooks.”

For once, Veth flinches instead of snapping a retort back at Beau.

“You keep these safe for me until I return, ja?”

“I don’t like this, Cay. There has to be another way.” There’s a tremor in Veth’s hands as she takes the books.

“There isn’t, and we are running out of time. Besides, he won’t kill me. He… ah, he has said many times already he simply wishes to talk.”

Jester winces. It’s going to be a long time before she forgets the haunted look that appeared in Caleb’s eyes every time Trent’s voice slithered into his ear today.

“Be good for your mother and father,” Caleb’s saying, ruffling Luc’s hair.

He straightens to look at the rest of them, meeting their eyes one by one. Jester can almost hear him counting in his head.

A wall slams down over his expression as he squares his shoulders.

“I am so sorry about all this.” He continues before any of them can protest. “Thank you all.”

Jester tries not to think it sounds like a goodbye.

She shoves the image of Caleb’s pale, determined face out of her head, swallowing the building lump in her throat. The last thing she needs—the last thing Mama needs—is for her to break down right now.

“Well,” she hedges into the silence, “he’s got like, a really good memory, you guys. Maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he remembers all his spells.”

“I don’t—“ Beau starts, before taking a deep breath. Yasha’s hand is slipping into hers. She softens her tone. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Jes.”

“Oh.”

“Jester, I’m so sorry.” Mama speaks up from where she’s been sitting anxiously beside her. There’s so much regret in her face. “Your friend, he—”

“No, no, Mama, no.” She’s been so strong today, and Jester’s so, so proud of her for facing her fears, but she never should have been forced to do it. “This isn’t your fault at all. We brought them to you.”

Technically, she brought them here. Caleb can blame himself all he wants, but Jester’s the one who put a target on Nicodranas in that letter to Astrid all those months ago and the one who dropped Mama’s name into a conversation with an enemy guard just a few hours ago.

“Who… are they?”

“They’re, um.” Her voice wavers. She swallows again. “They’re bad people. Really, really bad people.”

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Mama hums, and it’s kind of crazy how those three words can sound like music from her lips. She reaches up to cup Jester’s cheek. “You and your friends are some of the most amazing people I’ve met. “And you,” she brushes her thumb gently across her skin, “are more creative than anyone in the world. You’ll find a way.”

Mama presses a kiss to the top of her head and then takes her hands. They’re smooth, warm. Jester looks down. Red and blue, just like when she was little, except now her hands can’t be fully covered by Mama’s. She’s grown up and stepped out of Mama’s arms and the sanctuary of their Chateau. Just like she always dreamed and plotted with Artie. It’s all she can do not to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” she manages, tries for a watery smile.

“Jester,” Yasha ventures gingerly. “Can’t you talk to him?”

She shakes her head, blinking away the blurriness. “Not until tomorrow. I don’t have the energy left to cast a spell.”

Caduceus clears his throat. “Good.” The rest of them look to him, startled. “Now there’s nothing to do but get some sleep so we’ll be ready for tomorrow. Mr. Wensforth, can you help us set something up for the night?”

The poor goblin looks up from where he’s been wringing his hands in the corner. Jester doesn’t blame him.

Man, Yussa’s gonna be super pissed when he wakes up to find so many people in his tower.

She can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fall asleep, but Caduceus makes her drink some tea, and eventually she feels the tension of the day seep into her bones. Before it claims her consciousness, she brings the symbol of the Traveler to her chest.

“Artie, look out for him, okay?”

———

In the morning, Beau and Caduceus wake her and the others, careful not to disturb Mama, Yeza, or Luc.

Jester tucks the blanket around Mama a little more securely before heading out.

They all cluster together in a smaller room off of one of the tower’s winding stairwells. Caduceus starts passing around breakfast, but she declines, sitting in the middle of the floor instead and prepping a familiar spell.

Fjord gives her an encouraging nod, holding ten fingers up at the ready.

She focuses on the image of her friend, on the furrow in his brow as he wields magic like a weapon, on the way his eyes crinkle when he offers one of his soft, rare smiles. She fires up Sending.

“Caleb! Are you alright? Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in Rexxentrum? I’m sorry, I had to wait until today to Send to reach you but we’re—”

Fjord’s nudging her, signaling the end of the spell. Jester blows a strand of hair out of her face, tapping her fingers against her knee.

She waits five seconds, ten, a minute. No response.

She bites her lip. “You guys—”

Beau’s there already, tugging her into a hug as Fjord gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Veth lets out a muffled noise of frustration.

“He could just not be in a place where he can talk freely right now, we don’t know,” Caduceus says evenly.

“Maybe I should try Astrid?”

Beau shifts, but she doesn’t let go. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust her.”

“She loves Caleb,” Veth says, but again, none of her usual ferocity is there.

“Yeah, maybe.” Beau’s face darkens. “And now she has him back.”

Her words hang heavy in the air.

Jester shakes herself. “Look, fuck it, I’m just going to do it.” She takes a deep breath.

“Astrid,” she chirps. “Is Caleb with you? Tell him to talk to me when he can. Oh also, if any of you hurt him, we’re totally gonna find you and make sure you never—”

“That’s it, Jester.”

“You should send another one. Let her hear the end of your threat,” Yasha says, and Jester swears she can hear thunder roll beneath the mild suggestion.

Fjord cracks something resembling a smile. “As entertaining as that would be, I think—“

Jester shushes them as Astrid’s voice comes back.

Good morning, Jester. Bren is well and unharmed. He is here with us and under no restraints or compulsion. He is home now.

Jester growls.

“What did she say?”

“That Caleb’s okay and like, he’s home, or some total bullshit. She’s wrong, obviously.” She has to be. Jester ignores the building pressure in her chest, flicks her wrist to cast again.

“Please, tell me something, tell me anything, tell me you’re fine, or dead, but please, we need to hear from you, we need to plan our next moves and we can get you out of there as long as you just—” Fjord squeezes her hand. Stupid, stupid spell with stupid word limits.

Nothing on the other end anyway. Her eyes sting, and this time, Jester doesn’t try to stop the sob in her throat.

“I’ll keep messaging you, please Caleb, we’re scared and worried, please tell us where you are, we can fix this, we can get you back!”

Finally, finally, Caleb speaks.

I am well, Jester; returning was my decision, and I am unharmed.

He sounds so tired.

I need you all to stay away. Stay safe. I am sorry.

Silence once more.

Jester’s messages have reached across thousands of miles, over oceans and barren wastelands and enemy lines. This is the first time she’s felt the yawning distance the magic has to travel.

She swipes at her eyes, glaring through her tears.

She knows what he’s doing. It’s what he’s always done, protect and shield and give and give and give like it’s all he’s good for. But she’s also seen him start to unfurl, seen him laugh more and trust more and take one careful step after another out of the shadows of his past. He knows he’s part of their family. They just need to help him remember what that means.

“He said something,” Veth guesses.

“Something awful and self-sacrificing?” Beau mutters.

“Yeah.”

Jester pushes back her sleeves, and she can feel a breeze drift into the chamber, the rustle of a green cloak at her side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get him, now.”

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #marion lavorre #beauregard lionett #veth brenatto #fjord #caduceus clay #yasha nydoorin #my writing #jester's pov was such a challenge to write omfg #also juggling 6+ characters in a scene for my first cr fic haha #any feedback is much appreciated as I find my footing w these characters #also a huge thank you to io-kj-cr for inspiring me and giving me permission to post this!#my ramblings #cr fic

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thebountyfucker · 3 years

Text

Sharing is Caring

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Embo/F!Reader/Cad, minor Embo/Cad

Tags: PiV sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, deep throating, Embo and Cad are sorta buddies, lots o' cum, overstimulation, shibari, slightly feral Bo

Here's the link to my masterpost

This one is for the group chat. Love you hoes

“I got company comin’ over, so ya better behave.” Cad drawled as he ran the rope he was rigging you up with along your waist. You met his gaze, your eyes shimmering nervously. You were too damn cute, he’d give you that.

“C-company?” You asked as he tied off the rope and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Don’ get all shy now. It’s just Bo.” He muttered as he turned to dig around in his dresser drawers for one of his numerous toys. He pulled out a wand vibrator, and turned it on with a smirk. He threaded the wand through the rope around your waist and angled it so it hit your clit just right. You gasped softly as he patted your cheek. “Keep quiet fer me, okay? I’d hate fer him to know dat yer in dis state.”

You nodded frantically as he slipped out the door. Your legs shook already. It was going to be a long night…

Cad poured Embo a drink from the bar, watching the other hunter with a keen eye. They were tentative allies, sure, but Cad would hardly say that he trusted the other hunter. Given the glances Embo shot him in return, the feeling was mutual. They had to be. One always had to be on their guard around other hunters. One could never guess where the others' loyalties lie.

Cad made his way toward Embo with drink in hand. Embo accepted it with a nod, not saying a word. Cad didn’t mind. Embo’s silence was one of the reasons he was tolerable compared to the others. Cad set his own drink down on the table and moved toward the panel on the wall, raising the oxygen levels so his company could drink without the risk of suffocation. Cad’s breathing tubes went to work filtering out the extra oxygen.

“Hear anythin’ interestin’ from de Guild?” Cad drawled as he eased down into his chair and gathered a pack of playing cards in his hand. Embo grunted as he set his mask aside and took a sip of his drink.

“There is a job coming up. They will not say who is hiring, but the payout is roughly five million.” Embo replied, and Cad whistled in response.

“Damn. Any interest?”

“Of course there is interest. But they need someone of a higher caliber than most within the Guild.”

“So who’s a serious candidate?” Cad asked as he dealt out a hand of cards. Embo grabbed his cards, and fanned them out in his hand.

“Bossk, Aurra…”

“You?”

Embo chuckled as he glanced down at his cards. “Yes.”

“Guild-specific hiring?” Cad asked after taking a large swig of his drink.

“Unfortunately.” Embo reached for his drink and took a sip. “But I could get you in on it. 65/35 split sound amenable?”

“Sixty-five percent in my favor?” Cad teased with a quirk of his browridge. Embo rolled his eyes.

“No, mine. I would be getting the job, after all.”

“Doesn’t seem like getting de job is worth dat much. 50/50 split.”

“60/40.”

“Are ya really tryin’ dis wit’ me?” Cad managed with a chuckle. He downed his drink and laid out a card. Embo glared down at the card, before looking at his own hand.

“You do it to me all the time. I think it is only fair to return the favor.”

“Oh fuck you.” Cad managed between snickers as Embo laid down a card of his own. Cad leaned back. “Now dat was a dumb play.”

“I still do not get this game.” Embo muttered as he finished his drink and set his cards down on the table face down. He gestured to the bar. “May I?”

“Go ahead. Bring de whole bottle while yer at it.” Embo nodded in understanding as he stood and approached the bar, before pausing halfway across the room. Cad frowned and leaned forward. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“It sounds as though someone is in pain.”

“Oh dat’s just my fuck toy.” Cad replied nonchalantly, and Embo blinked over at him.

“Should I… leave?”

“Nah. Just let ‘er be. I’ll take care o’ ‘er in a bit.” Cad leaned back and put down another card. Embo came over with the bottle of booze and set it down on the table, before looking at the card Cad put down.

“Why did you do that?”

“Wanted t’ give ya a chance.” Cad smirked as he flicked the cap off the bottle and took a swig, much to Embo’s dismay. Embo settled back in his chair, a look of discomfort on his face.

“You are not usually so generous.”

“What can I say? De prospect of two-and-a-half million makes me feel all warm an’ fuzzy.” Cad fiddled around in his pocket and produced a pack of cigs. He offered one to Embo, who took it and perched it between his lips. Cad leaned over to light it for him.

They thoughtfully smoked in silence, taking turns laying down cards until Cad inevitably won. Embo seemed distracted, though, and Cad wasn’t sure why until he heard you whining for him from the room nearby. Embo shifted in his chair, trying to ignore your calls, but Cad could see they were getting to him. His eyes brightened, his body went lax… he fidgeted with the cards as he tried to think of anything else. Cad was almost certain that he was hard.

Cad set down his cards and stood, slowly approaching Embo. Embo put out the cig on his hand and looked up at Cad.

“What?” His voice was husky despite himself. Cad chuckled as he gripped Embo’s chin between his fingers, and tilted his head back. He could feel Embo tense beneath him, unsure of Cad’s intentions.

“Do ya want ‘er?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Come now… ya can’t fool me. Yer eyes give ya away. Dey always do.” Cad chuckled as he released his grip on Embo’s chin; he instead patted Embo’s cheek. “Go on. Take ‘er.”

“I… do not understand.”

“Like I said, dat much money gets me feelin’ good. My only demand is dat ya aren’t doin’ dat gentle shit. Fuck her so hard she can’t walk. Got it?”

“And if she does not want that?”

“She will.”

The vibrator against your clit was pure torture at this point. A puddle of your fluids covered the floor beneath you. Your legs could hardly hold you up. You needed Cad to free you. He was so close by, you knew that he could hear you. You knew he could! You cried out his name once more as the door slid open and in walked… well… not Cad. Embo’s glowing eyes pierced through the darkness, and you shuddered, suddenly embarrassed by your nudeness and obvious arousal. Cad entered the room behind him, pushing Embo toward you.

“Cad, what are you-?” You asked as Cad came over to switch off the vibrator.

“I’m gonna let Bo take care of ya.” He hummed as he stroked your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a small sigh.

“If you do not want this, you are free to say so.” Embo muttered, and Cad chuckled, tangling a hand into the hair at the base of your skull.

“She’s a lil’ slut. She won’ say no.”

“You like to put words in her mouth.” Embo muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. Cad went about untying you, before leaning in close and whispering in your ear.

“Go on, den. Speak t’ him. Settle his anxious lil’ mind.”

“I would like that.” You nodded, stretching your limbs as Cad untied them. Cad tossed the rigging rope aside, before sitting down in a nearby chair to watch.

You turned back toward Embo, who hadn’t moved from his position. He was waiting for you to make the first move. Ever the gentleman. You sauntered toward him, less gracefully than you were intending since your legs felt like jelly beneath you. He watched as you approached, unmoving.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy.”

“I am not ‘shy’.” He muttered as he glanced over at Cad. “He wishes for it to be rough. Speak now if you are not amenable to that.”

“Cad knows how I like things.” You fiddled with the latches of his armor, surprised at how easy they gave under your ministrations. The armor fell to the floor. You pulled him down so you could whisper in his ear. “You should really listen to him.”

“So he says.” Embo muttered as he swatted your hands away so he could remove the rest of his clothes. You would have assumed he was displeased with the situation given his tone and… well… general demeanor. But a deep, loud purr rumbled from within his chest, and you knew that he was thrilled. Cad leaned back, watching with keen eyes.

Bo hardly finished undressing before shoving you down onto your knees. Your gaze landed on his cock and you swallowed hard; it was larger than you were expecting. You looked up at him, and then down at his erect cock.

“I don’t know if I can-.”

He brought his cock to your lips and you opened wide anyways. He tangled a hand in your hair and guided your mouth down his length - well, as far as you could without completely choking on him. He held you there, at your limit, watching as your face got red and tears welled in your eyes, before easing you off. You only got a moment of relief before he guided you back over his length, this time much faster. You gagged around him. He pulled away. He shoved you back onto his cock, much more forcefully. Tears streamed down your cheeks. When he pulled away, you let out a deranged little laugh.

“Come on, I’ve fucked ‘er harder den dat!” Cad called and Embo growled in response.

“Shut up.” He released his grip on your hair and instead started thrusting into your mouth, driving hard and deep. The slick sounds mixed with your gagging filled the room, and you cast a sideways glance toward Cad and he leaned back, legs spread open like the whore he was. A hand rested on his thigh, easing toward the obvious bulge in his pants.

Embo wrenched his cock out of your mouth and bent over to pick you up straight off the ground. He tossed you face-first onto the bed, and was quick to box you in against it. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours.

“I am going to fuck you now.”

“Please do.” You lifted your ass to press against his cock. He growled lowly in your ear as he rutted his cock along your rear.

“Good. Good girl.”

He lifted his weight off of you and pulled open your legs, before drawing the head of his cock along your swollen cunt. You mewled and whined, rocking your hips in an effort to push him further into you. You got your wish, much faster and harder than you were expecting. The air was wrenched from your lungs as you fell face-first against the comforter on the bed. He submerged himself to the hilt, and your toes curled at the sensation of him filling you up. You moaned his name, and turned your head to glance at Cad.

Cad offered you a wink as he palmed his bulge through his pants. Cad’s face was tinged with green, and his eyes were hazy with lust. You knew that he’d want to get involved somehow. You wondered if Embo would let him. The last thing you wanted was for them to get in a fight over you… though that would be pretty hot…

A hand went to your throat and the other went to your lower stomach as he fucked into you, fast and hard, like a frenzied animal driven to breed. He muttered something in his mother tongue, something so heavy with lust that you can’t translate it. The hand on your throat tightened. Your head lolled forward into the comforter. He lifted you, holding you in the air as he drove into you. You moaned, your legs shaking around him.

You managed to turn your head to watch Cad shedding his clothes and approaching. He put a hand to Bo’s back, and Bo’s head shot toward him, a feral look in his eyes.

“Easy dere.”

Bo replied in his native tongue, and Cad’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’ sass me. If ya remember, she’s my lil’ fuck toy.”

Again, Bo replied in his native language. His grip on your throat tightened until you stars filled your vision and you were gasping for air. Warmth pooled in your belly, threatening to spill over. Cad muttered a response in Durese, which eased Bo’s grip on your throat. You took a deep breath as he picked up his pace, fucking harder, faster. You hadn’t known that it was possible for a person to thrust that fast. Your whine pitched up.

Cad’s hand slipped underneath you, rubbing the area around your clit. It was swollen and hot, and your whine pitched up even higher as he chuckled.

“What a filthy lil’ slut, takin’ another man like dis.” The pad of his finger ghosted over your clit and your entire body seized, on the precipice of orgasm. “Won’tcha cum, lil lady? Hm?”

His finger brushed over your clit again and you were done in. You screamed out his name as your body went stiff and you squirted all over Bo. Fireworks sparked in every nerve, drawing euphoria to wash over you.

Bo pulled out of you, panting but not yet sated. You listened to his breathing as you came to, your gaze immediately drawn to him. Cad had a hand wrapped around Bo’s cock, and was stroking it lazily. Bo’s eyes were half-lidded at the touch, and he reached out to wrap a hand around Cad’s neck, though Cad was not about to let that happen.

“Don’tchu think about dat.” Cad growled, and in a flash Bo had somehow managed to lift Cad and toss him down onto the bed. He straddled Cad’s waist and pressed his hands down on Cad’s chest, not initiating anything sexual but letting the Duros know that he was trapped. Cad’s eyes were wide and his mouth was agape as Bo leaned down.

“You do not command me.”

Cad stared up at him a moment longer, before gathering his wits about himself and pushing at Embo with a growl. “Get off o’ me, ya lug!”

Embo obliged, moving off of him and setting his gaze toward you once more. You shivered and reached for him, begging for more.

“Hey, yer takin’ my cock now. He can watch.” Cad muttered as he moved between you and Bo, driving into you without another word. Bo’s eyes flashed and you knew he was displeased by this. Something about Cad pushing him to be rough had activated this feral aspect of him you had never seen before. He growled in his native tongue and Cad growled in response. “She’s mine, remember?! Now stop actin’ like some beast and let me fuck ‘er, ‘kay?”

“Don’t be rude, Cad.” You muttered as you reached for Embo, wrapping your hand around his cock and giving it a few strokes. Cad rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you as he thrust into you, not nearly as fast but just as hard as Bo had. At the same time, you pumped Bo’s cock, feeling it quiver within your hand. Embo wrapped a hand around your wrist, and helped guide you. He was rambling on in his native language, and you weren’t sure if he knew that you couldn’t understand him. You just nodded along as Cad growled and rolled his eyes again.

“Won’tcha shut up? Stars, I give ya booze and let ya fuck my girl and suddenly ya have so much t’ say ‘bout everything.”

“Make me.” Was all Embo said in response. Cad’s eyes narrowed as he continued to fuck you, grinding his hips against yours.

“I’ll bite chu.”

“Oh, so frightening.”

You managed a chuckle between your moans, and you leaned forward to lap at the head of Embo’s slick-covered cock. You delighted in the taste of yourself as you wrapped your lips around his cock. This drew him from his squabbling with Cad, which then allowed Cad to focus on fucking you. The room went quiet, save for the pants and moans of the two men. Perfect.

Cad drew his devilish finger around your clit, and you whimpered, the noises reverberating into Bo’s cock. He moaned softly at this. His eyes slid shut as he gingerly rocked his hips. You could tell by the quivering of his cock that he was close.

Cad pinched your clit, drawing an even louder whimper for you as the heat pooled in your belly once more. Bo hissed and eased out of your mouth, stroking himself as he neared orgasm. With a small gasp, he came all over your face and neck. You moaned in response, and Cad moaned as well.

“Yer so hot all covered in cum…” He muttered as his own pace grew erratic. He rubbed at your clit as he ground his hips against yours, and you orgasmed once more. Ecstasy coursed through your body as you twitched, dousing Cad with your fluids. He pulled out and orgasmed onto your stomach as you slowly came to. He panted, and moved to the side to allow you to sit up.

It was silent for a while, before Cad turned toward Bo.

“I’m gonna bite chu now.”

“I will bite you right back.” As if trying to prove it, Embo reached up to touch his mask.

“Wouldn’t be de first time.”

“And likely not the last…”

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defilerwyrm · 3 years

Note

For the ask meme: burning bright, anything about the parts at the table with the Nein. You write their banter so well!

FIC SPOILERS BELOW!

Burning Bright on AO3

The entire dinner scene hit me like a bolt of lightning while I was working on this fic. It started with Beau’s outburst, and then Veth’s willful denial and subsequent fit, and I built the two scenes around that.

Diving into particulars….

“Uhm,” he said, intelligently, but quickly recovered and flashed his friends a smile. “It is most impressive. Certainly a step up from a tiny hut.”

A direct reference to the name of the spell. Originally it was Leomund’s tiny hut. I have no clue why in 5e Wizards decided to 86 the attribution names on so many spells like Otiluke’s resilient sphere and Tasha’s hideous laughter. Things like that always made me curious about the (what I assume were) PCs the spells were named after. I had thought maybe it was because the characters who diegetically invented them were specific to one setting, but in that case I don’t know why Bigby’s hand is still Bigby’s but Evard’s black tentacles are no longer Evard’s. I don’t like it. As an aside, Widowgast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower is, mechanically speaking, Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion. Anyway. Moving on!

It was delectable that Caleb wanted to impress him.

This boy hungry and not just for soup

Flustered, Essek tried to fend them off, but it was Caleb that did him in. It was always Caleb. The human took a large roll from his own plate, broke it in half, and offered one of these parts to Essek, who tried his best not to choke.

“You need to keep your strength up, ja?” Caleb implored him quietly.

The steady hand that accepted was a point of pride because it very much wanted to quake. The Kryn weren’t bread people, but...did he have any idea what this gesture would mean in Rosohna? Any inkling at all?

This is another one of those places where I delight in playing to cultural differences. What I’d had in mind for what that gesture—breaking food into two pieces and offering half to someone—WOULD mean in Rosohna was a bit nebulous, as I like to keep the reader guessing a bit and let their imagination fill in the blanks; but my rough idea was that it’s a courting gesture that signifies “I can and will provide for you, even if it means less for me.” An expression of selfless caregiving and an offer of partnership. Not wholly unlike a bird bringing food to a prospective mate.

And actually it’s a little bit funny coming from Caleb, who has fuck-all to his name but his name, when Essek is a rich bitch who answers directly to the Bright Queen.

Not that he was about to say it out loud, but he was a quick convert to this whole bread thing. To say that it won him over would be an understatement. That seemed to be a recurring theme here.

I imagine if I’d grown up never really eating bread and was introduced to it in adulthood I’d be like “Where have you BEEN all my life?!” But also: the bread is friendship, the bread is the Mighty Nein, the bread is communion in the spirit of sharing rather than politics and appearances and power plays—things he thought he was fine without until they were foisted upon him.

Somewhere in the course of the multiple conversations going on at one time, Jester got an Idea, as she was prone to doing. He became increasingly aware of her talking about kissing, of all things, and this culminated in her shouting above the din, cheeks flushed purple though he hadn’t seen her touch any wine: “I have an idea you guys! Why don’t we all go around and say how many people we’ve kissed?”

Jester is the most wonderfully convenient deus ex machina if you ever need to insert an awkward or embarrassing conversation among the Mighty Nein, because this is exactly the sort of shit she would do.

Jester leaped up and slammed her hands onto the table. “Caduceus you’ve never been kissed?! That’s so sad!”

The firbolg was unfazed. He merely shrugged and said, “It hasn’t come up and I haven’t gone looking. Not something I’ve ever thought about, really.”

Jester’s tail lashed back and forth behind her like an overstimulated cat. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Fjord went a bit wild-eyed at this. Caduceus smiled gently and said, “No thank you.”

Three things about this part:

1) Jester’s tail doesn’t get NEARLY enough mention in fic! If I’m playing (or writing) a character with a tail you can be damn sure you’re gonna know what it’s doing! Makes me wanna play a tabaxi tbqh.

2) Cad’s “No thank you” is the sum total of his sexuality, lol. Jester was raised in a pretty highly sexualized setting, didn’t really get out much before she fled Nicodranas, and can be pretty naïve, so she doesn’t really get the whole aroace thing; but it never crosses Cad’s mind that this would be “abnormal“ or ”sad” in any way—it causes him no distress, as it shouldn’t. This is yet another “Same planet, different worlds” moment.

3) Fjord is physically restraining himself from yelling “JESTER WHAT THE FUCK” lmao

Veth kept picking at it. “So you’re um. You know. Into the fellas?”

Beau snorted. “I could’a told you that months ago.”

“Yeah you could’a!” Veth pouted with a self-conscious curl to her shoulders.

I saw a comment on Tiktok that said Veth was being borderline homophobic, but that wasn’t my intent! It’s just that she inherited a certain blind spot for male queerness from her player, and as hard as she’d been trying to encourage Caleb to hook back up with his female ex, it never occurred to her that he had a male ex, too—and given that they’ve been so close for so long, she’s feeling pretty self-conscious about the fact that she never figured out that Caleb is bisexual in all that time, as well as kind of upset that no one—Caleb especially—told her. She’s having a moment of “Why didn’t I know this? Did you think it was going to change things between us? Did I make you feel unsafe?” And also a little bit of “Okay well, now I have to get him to hook up with TWO people AT ONCE because my boy deserves threesomes 😤”

Jester went goggle-eyed at him. “You’ve only been with one person?” she exclaimed. “But you’re like a hundred years old! And very handsome. I would have thought you’d get like, all the ladies.”

Ladies. Right.

Veth might not be the only one with a certain blind spot.

Beau gave her a funny look, snorting. “I dunno, he seems like the kinda guy who turns down those offers left and right.”

..…But Beau’s got his number, for more than one reason. She’s got super gaydar, for one, and has him pegged as the type who’s very choosy about his partners (also mind you, this was before demi!Essek was canonized by WoG, so I was still rolling with my hc that Essek got around when he felt like it).

The uproar was instantaneous. Everyone—almost everyone—started talking or shouting at once. Beau’s voice rang out among the din with, “HOLY SHIT ESSEK FUCKS.” Strangely pleased with himself, he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and spent the next few minutes fending off increasingly prying, personal questions until the Nein grew bored with his lack of answers and someone changed the subject.

There it is, the line that spawned two entire scenes!

He was not a war mage, but he was experienced and wily, and he was damned good at what he did, and as long as there was breath left in his body, the Mighty Nein would not fall here.

Joke’s on me, motherfucker literally has the War Caster feat -_-

But like in my defense, that’s just what it’s called in the book. The feat just means that you have either the training or experience to cast well during a fight, which I see as not necessarily the same thing as a war mage, which was my way of saying an arcane caster who is a soldier.

Veth stared at her blankly as if willing herself not to understand. “Caleb? With who?”

She breathed steadily. “...Essek. Caleb and Essek.”

Beside her, Jester squealed and brought her fists to her face.

Veth was less enthused. “WHAT.”

Beau’s mental commentary here is dead on. Veth still doesn’t really trust Essek at this point and has been pretty vocal about that…despite being the one to declare him part of the Mighty Nein? Eh, she’s allowed to have complicated feelings on the guy, all things considered. But I find it kind of comical and very Veth (and very Sam) for her to be all full of zest for trying to get Caleb back together with the frigging Volstrucker who is actively working for his abuser and worst enemy but balk at him hooking up with Essek.

Jester “explained” in a delighted yell: “Caleb and Essek are gonna fuuuuuuck!”

I don’t know, is this too unsubtle to call foreshadowing? The line flowed naturally in the dialogue, but it’s also letting the reader know exactly what they’re in for next, lol.

“...He’s going to break that little elf twink, you know,” Veth said, sounding distant. Seemed she was having some difficulty processing. Not too surprising, considering how adamant she was about wanting their wizard to hook back up with his old flame, the fucking Volstrucker. “We’ve all seen his dick.”

This was 100% taken from Sam’s little throwaway line “It’s above-average” but it turned out to serve two purposes other than reminding the reader that all of these people have seen Caleb naked:

1) It’s yet another thing Veth thinks she understands about him but doesn’t. Caleb’s a top like Dalmatians are purple and if you disagree then I respect your right to be incorrect ;)

2) That said, it is, in fact, foreshadowing for the sequel, in which Essek experiences a great deal of frustration. (I haven’t touched the damn thing in weeks, feels like; I’ve been too busy with work, being exhausted from work, and being in a tizzy about my upcoming surgery.)

Fjord blurted out, “I’ll join you.”

Poor Fjord has had such an uncomfortable night!

Hoo boy that was a lot. Thanks for the ask, this was really fun!! And sorry it took so long; I work Saturday nights and things got really busy for a bit there.

#shadowgast #ask box games #before long my song is dying #critical role #plz how do i fandom

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

Only Live Forever in the Lights You Make

Hey, remember that time Killian met Meg in some tunnels in the Underworld and introduced himself as “Captain Killian Jones” before he called himself “Captain Hook”? Because I do and, surprise, I’ve got some feelings about it! As always, I am still on my season five ‘ish, so here is about 4.2K of name-based feelings, some out of place flirting and some, surprise, Captain Cobra Swan that I didn’t plan on until I typed it. I hope you guys got all the carbs you wanted yesterday.

All credit always and forever to @shireness-says for constantly telling me to keep shoving words at the internet. Even before she reads said words. (I only listened to Arctic Monkeys and My Chemical Romance while writing this. Take from that what you will.)

----

The words are heavy on his tongue.

Still, as if they don’t belong there, or never really did and the feeling makes him ache. Although most of him aches at this point. Killian is sure his gashes have scrapes and those scrapes have bruises and gaping wounds that are likely far more metaphorical than he’s willing to admit. Staring out at the expanse of Main Street doesn’t particularly help. Hazy air hangs low over cracked asphalt, thin branches and dead leaves that only swirl slightly against the barely-there breeze coming from the Gods know where.

There’s no water here. No hint of salt-tinged air.

Occasionally there are some strikes of lightning, leaving the sky bright enough that Killian swears he can see for miles. He wishes he couldn’t. None of it looks right, feels even more wrong, and he supposes that’s to be expected in a place like this, but it also seems like another metaphor of sorts and maybe the torture hasn’t ceased yet.

Maybe it won’t.

He deserves that, he’s sure.

Darkness doesn’t scare him much anymore, at least the more literal variety — or so he will swear, but this is somehow even worse. Every flash of light that cracks across the sky dredges up memories of the kind of storms that threatened to capsize any of the ships he once called home, and he imagines it’s something about extremes.

Complete darkness can blind a man, but so can light. Stunning him, until he has to blink away the dots that hang in front of his eyes and the dots never entirely disappear.

He shouldn’t have told that lass his name.

Foolish, that’s what it was.

“I can hear you thinking from upstairs,” Emma murmurs, slumped against the side of the railing that should lead up to her room in her parent’s loft. Something similar exists in this place, of course. He can’t imagine the blankets on that bed are as soft as the ones he only barely remembers falling into, what now feels like several lifetimes ago and—

“Might be getting worse now, actually,” she adds, “surprised there isn’t steam coming out of your ears too. Y’know, just for good measure.”

Letting out a breath, he’s all too aware of how slumped his shoulders are when he turns. Emma lifts her eyebrows.

“The streets are already steaming,” Killian says, “anything else seems like overkill, doesn’t it?” “Stupid word.” “Aye, that it is. In poor taste.”

“What are you thinking about?” He tilts his head. Strands of hair fall towards his eyes, but Killian doesn’t make any effort to brush them away. “Did he fall asleep?” “Yeah,” Emma nods, eyes flitting back towards her room and the space she’d marched Henry into nearly fifteen minutes earlier. “About time, too. I think he was half a second away from falling asleep standing, could barely keep his eyes open anymore.” “Stubbornness is an inherited trait.” She clicks her tongue. “You think?” “Rather pointed.” “Nah, definitely round,” Emma objects, “in a circle-type way that could bring us back to my question and what you’re thinking about and—” “—Henry shouldn’t be here.” “No.” Jerking his head up the way he does only guarantees that several muscles in the back of his neck almost audibly object to the movement, Emma giving him a tight-lipped smile that isn’t exactly his, but is at least getting there, and that’s something almost vaguely positive.

Her hair is longer than Killian remembers it being.

He tried to remember that.

Before.

Wandering — stumbling, more like — around those caves, blood dripping down the side of his face, caking the same strands of hair that now threaten to actually poke him in the eye, and all he could think about was the exact shade of gold Emma’s hair turned in the moonlight. Preferably when she was also sitting in the harbor, feet hanging above the waves as they passed his flask between them. Or on the deck of his ship.

He didn’t allow himself that particular fantasy very often, though. Getting both felt distinctly like the kind of selfishness he’s now hoping to avoid.

“Stubborn,” Emma shrugs.

“Something about circles, love.” “And going in them, yeah. But I’m also legitimately worried about that pinch between your eyebrows, so seems like as good a time as any to fess.” “Fess?” “Confess,” she amends, “more slang.” Killian’s smile isn’t really that. Is more a grimace and twist of his lips, and yet the weight he’s only marginally worried has taken the place of his heart lightens ever so slightly. Nothing beats yet. He’s still dead. “I like that one, actually.” “When we get home I’ll make you a list.” “Of slang?” “Whatever you want.” Neither one of them move.

He’d like to move. Would love to, really. To cross this space and pull Emma flush against him until she grumbles about the inevitably uncomfortable nature of her perched on either one of his thighs and how his chin digs into her shoulder when he tries to breathe her in, but something about the overall tension in her jaw and the weight of those yet-to-be acknowledged words keeps Killian rooted to the spot.

Every one of those words came out quicker than the last, as if they were an admission Emma wasn’t entirely ready to make and he’s fairly certain the pinch between his eyebrows won’t ever disappear completely. He hopes she doesn’t cut her hair.

He hopes to get his fingers in that hair eventually.

“I mean—” Emma stammers, color rushing in her cheek. “Within—y’know, within...no, fuck that. Whatever you want. Lists of...I don’t know, movies and books and you’re a giant dweeb right? So you’ve got to like books.” “I do, in fact.” “Yeah, yeah, I figured. I just—do they have holidays in the Enchanted Forest? No Thanksgiving or Christmas, right?” Killian shakes his head. Gets the hair away from his eyes. And makes it easier to see the exact moment Emma starts wringing her fingers together. The railing is very likely digging into her shoulder now. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she continues, “but uh...shit, what about birthdays? That’s a thing, right?” “Do you think I get two now?”

One side of his mouth tugs up. Despite any efforts otherwise and his own, rather intimate, knowledge of that edge Emma is quite obviously teetering on.

Killian’s been balancing there for the better part of the last few days. Ever since she appeared in front of him again, magic wrapping around him and making goosebumps prickle on his skin, a low heat that felt as if he’d been put on simmer without any threat of boiling because he’s not all that capable of boiling anymore, just festering and stewing and—

“I told that lass my name,” Killian says, voice hardly loud enough to qualify as any sort of sound. One of Emma’s knuckles crack. “The one in the caves, another one of Hades’ prisoners. I can’t—Gods, I can’t remember her name.” “Megara,” Emma whispers. “Yeah, I know.” He quirks an eyebrow, a sudden retreat back to flirting that’s not entirely honest. It’s very likely he’s something of a cad. And it’s easier that way. To slink back into the role, and the person he was and that person deserves everything he’s gotten and may still get.

Of course, he can’t keep it up for very long.

Not with Emma staring at him like that — far too appraising and understanding, and the whole thing fails rather quickly.

Completely. Immediately. A few other words that end in ‘ly,’ just to drive the point home. “Wow, you totally suck at that.” Laughter rumbles in the back of Killian’s throat before he can even begin to rationalize the sound, rubbing his fingers into the raw skin just above his brace. “Fraid you’ll have to be more specific, darling.” “Low blow.” “Endearments, or…” “It’s not going to work,” Emma objects, rolling her eyes when Killian’s mouth shifts in the very specific kind of smirk he knows has always worked. “You don’t just get to start playing pirate and think I’ll swoon enough to get distracted.”

“Suggests I’m still able to distract you.” “Like that would change.”

Heat ripples up his spine. Surprisingly, so. The flicker of normalcy catches Killian off guard, facade slipping for half a moment, and that’s far more time than Emma needs. His hair is greasy when he runs his fingers through it. “Are you something of a soothsayer then, Your Highness? Good at reading minds now?” “More circles, babe. Open books, and all that.” He hums. Can’t do much else, actually. Emotion claws at the center of him, threatens to take root in that stagnant heart of his, and maybe that will help, but it also feels like it could drown him if it had a mind to. The give and take of all this may very well drive him insane quicker than anything Hades could hope for. “How do you know that?” “Which part?” “About the girl,” Killian says, “did you find her?” Emma scrunches her nose. “Regina and I did. In the forest. There was blood and—” She shivers. Tries to hide it, but open book works both ways and he’s always been able to tell when she’s thinking too. Or being inherently stubborn. “I was...well, I wasn’t cool about it.” “Sounds suspiciously like a compliment.” “Ass.” Staying upright is becoming increasingly difficult. “I believe that’s been well-documented, m’dear. I’m sorry about that.” “My inability to insult you better?” “That you thought it was my blood.”

“Presumptuous,” Emma grumbles, although that sort of misses the insult mark as well and he’s genuinely not sure who moves first. Creaking joints give way to a groaning floor, a tangle of limbs and hands that almost immediately search for skin. If only to remind the other that they’re here and real and at least partially alive.

If Killian feels his pulse pick up, he’s sure he imagines it.

That’s not possible.

“And,’ he adds, Emma’s back against the nearest wall now. He has no idea how his head found her thigh. He’s not going to complain. She doesn’t when she inevitably notices how goddamn greasy his hair is. Fair is only fair, after all.

“And?” Eyes fluttering shut, Killian briefly worries for the state of his muscles. Which appear to be unspooling the longer Emma’s fingers move, tracing over his temple and the furrows of his forehead and it takes all the self control he’s only marginally in possession of not to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her stomach and sob.

“And,” he repeats, “that you were ever uncool about any of this.” Her body shakes when she laughs — soft and disbelieving, which is another marker in the stubborn column, really. Killian doesn’t mention that. He closes his eyes. Breathes. Counts his inhales and takes his time on his exhales, only a little disappointed that the honeysuckle scent has disappeared from Emma’s hair.

“Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “Half the reason I think we should make a slang list,” Emma says, “is so you can say more of it. Might be one of my favorite things.” “A slang puppet, huh? Here to entertain you.” “Why are you freaking out about telling Megara who—by the way, was not nearly as snarky as her Disney counterpart would have me believe.” “I’m sure being chased around by the three-headed beast of the Underworld will do that to a person.”

Emma’s thumb taps his jaw. Three times. Exactly. “Ah now I feel like an ass.” “Impossible,” Killian mumbles. Turning his head isn’t easy, but he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of his body when he’s splayed out across the floor like this and the muscles in Emma’s stomach noticeably contract when he noses at the hem of her shirt.

She squirms. Above him and below him, and there it is again. More metaphors. More dichotomy, or some other philosophical bullshit he’s not willing to think about now. When Emma’s breath noticeably hitches. As soon as Killian’s teeth graze her skin.

“Distracting—” Gasping, Emma’s nails drag across his scalp. Which isn’t as unpleasant as it probably should be. “Ah shit, I can’t think of—” “Scoundrel? Miscreant? Blackguard?” “What century is that last one from?” “Not nice at all, love,” Killian chides, but Emma just widens her eyes and perhaps they’re both dancing. Without any music. “Probably around the time the first King George ascended the throne.” “There was more than one King George?” “Several, if memory serves. You know those royals. Can’t concern themselves with naming creativity, have to honor the past and whatnot.” “Whatnot,” Emma echoes with a smile. “You want to tell me now? About Megara and how she knew your name.” “I told her, we’ve been over this already.” “Yeah, but—” The rest of the sentence disappears on Emma’s shrug, her lower lip twisted between her teeth. Nerves radiate off her, falling in waves Killian can almost see and nearly remind him of the real thing.

Time doesn’t mean much here. Days pass on loop, and exhaustion is a guarantee more than an occasional state of being. And yet, somehow — as the last few flickers of warmth continue to lap at the base of Killian’s spine, and Emma’s fingers return to their pattern through his hair, something almost like moonlight casts a welcome shadow across the floor. Stretching over Emma’s outstretched legs and bent ankles, it curls up her arm, lingering at her elbow before it drifts towards her hunched shoulders and the edge of Killian’s wrist and then—

It’s gone.

Disappearing as quickly as it arrived, Killian wonders if he imagined it. He didn’t. He knows, he didn’t. Just as easily as he knows it didn’t happen simply because of him.

He licks his lips once.

“I found her,” he starts, “or she found me, I suppose. Not easy to keep your direction underground.” Glancing up, Killian finds Emma’s eyes on him. Wide, they don’t quite demand an explanation, but they want one and he supposes wanting is half the battle. At least metaphorically. “No stars underground, you see.” “Real confident in your navigational abilities huh, Captain?” “Only if you’ll keep saying that.”

She can’t be comfortable when she bends. Twists towards him, and kisses the top of his absolutely disgusting hair.

There’s a shower upstairs. In the right version of it. He’s not sure what’s here. He can’t bring himself to go up there.

An absolute coward.

“Anyway,” Killian continues, “there was a three-headed monster, this lass, and I—we weren’t both going to get out.” “You let her go, though. Told her to go.” He nods. Talking is something of a challenge once more. “As if you’d ever do anything else,” Emma mumbles, a note of pride in her voice that makes every one of Killian’s internal organs clench. That’s all they can do, really. None of them are working all that great, after all.

“That’s not true.” Tensing, Emma’s fingers still. “That wasn’t really you.” “Ah, that’s not totally true, either. It was at least partially me, all those deep-rooted desires given free reign. But I wanted...she was so scared, Swan.” He doesn’t bother mentioning the rest. Being more specific seems pointless, especially when Emma’s fingers stay exactly where they are. And she knows, anyway. He was terrified. Of what he’d lost and what he’d done and what he’d still be willing to do, if it meant she got out of here.

Safe.

He wants them all safe.

“I told her to find you,” he rasps. “That—I knew you were here, could...feel it, almost. No matter where I was or—” This may be their least organized conversation. Full of tiptoeing and heavy words, unspoken meaning that neither one of them is entirely ready to give credence to yet. “Gave her my name, my—my real name.”

Hair brushes the top of his head, softer than it has any right to be and several things in Killian’s chest threaten to combust. “I was doing a lot of yelling of your name in that bloody forest.” “Joke, or…” “Fresh out of jokes, I think.” He noses at her jeans, not sure if he’s desperate to touch her or the opposite. Desperate to brand himself there, so she’ll remember. No matter what else happens. “I didn’t even think about it,” he admits, “just—I told her to find you, said I was Captain Killian Jones, like that was something I could say, and that you needed to know I was here.” Emma’s silent for a moment.

Another. Two moments. That become three and four and then Killian’s counting his inhales again and doing his best not to stare too intently at her. She kisses his hair again. Luke she can’t help herself.

“Had to use the title, didn’t you?” Killian exhales. “Haven’t in quite some time.” “Did you think I wouldn’t have known it was you?” Emma teases, so the joke-thing was something of a lie. A nice one as far as misplaced lies go. Making another noise, he finally burrows closer to her until it’s closer to snuggling and clinging and another round of goosebumps explode on his skin when her hand flattens against his back. “Or,” she says, “was it something else?” “Several somethings, maybe.” “Wanna ballpark for me?” “Not sure I understand that one, actually.” “I don’t need all the somethings, but a few would be good right now. We can get to the rest of them later.”

Those words don’t necessarily fall on top of him. They’re as heavy as the rest, all that meaning and the possibility for a future that seems as distant and impossible as the past or the overall softness of the bedding upstairs. So, while gravity does its best to pull the words down on top of Killian, there’s an ease to them that makes it feel as if they’re simply resting across his back, a reminder that helps keep him pressed to this plane and this place and Emma’s left thigh.

Which is one of his favorite places to be, quite frankly.

Usually without the jeans in the way, but dead beggars can’t be choosers.

“I don’t know why I did that. The name, I—” “Liar, liar.” “Would you like to talk about pants, Swan? Because I have my fair share of thoughts regarding the ones you were wearing in Storybrooke.” “I didn’t pick that outfit.” “Rather good happenstance, then.” “Is deflection a required pirate characteristic?” she asks. “Distract your enemy with half-hearted compliments and—” “—Oh no, those are full-hearted, I guarantee.” “If nothing else, I did look stupid good in those pants.” “Hair left something to be desired, but the pants fit like a glove.” Her smile almost reaches her eyes. Obvious when light filters through the gauzy curtains, once more. “Flirt.” “Only with you.” Emma’s eyes widen. Not in surprise. Closer to frustration. A hint of impatience. The stubborn sort of determination that requires an answer. “And, I—I wanted it.” “Wanted what?” “To be that. Again, I suppose. After everything. All that I’d done, and how much I’d hurt you, I—”

“—You didn’t…” “Swan, let’s be honest that’s the worst lie either one of us has told.” “Ever?” “If not longer.” Huffing out a laugh, she slides further down the wall, a move that can’t feel good on her spine, but does ensure that she’s closer to Killian and he’s still enough of a pirate to want exactly that. “But I—a very long time ago, Captain Killian Jones believed in something. Wanted something, and thought he could get it. Even if some of it was distinctly lawless.” “Probably a requirement for your line of work.” “Ah, well that king deserved all the insults you could come up with. Stealing from him, destroying everything he’d built. That felt like justice, somehow.” “Should I mention the circular nature of time again or is that redundant?” “Unnecessary,” Killian agrees, his mouth inching further up Emma’s ribcage. The noise she lets out is closer to a giggle than he’s capable of dealing with. In a place that’s always tinged vaguely red. “I suppose part of me wanted to return to that. To the ideals, maybe not the laws or the uniforms, but certainly not the…” He swallows. “Villain. Evil. Wrong.” “I never thought you were wrong,” Emma says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. Over the ringing in Killian’s ears. And whatever rushes off her. Magic, of course. Responding to emotion and its innate desire to meet him halfway.

Gods, but he loves her more than he ever believed he could.

“I know that,” Killian promises, “even when I didn’t want to. Especially then.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time.” Tightening his arms isn’t easy when there’s this blasted wall in the way. Killian tries all the same. Emma doesn’t tell him to stop. “You were Captain Hook,” she adds, “when we found you. Buried under all those bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Eventually that’s really all that was left.” “I can make some more snide comments on pants, if you want. What’s the flammability of leather?” “I have no idea, honestly.” She smiles. He doesn’t check. Knows, can feel it in the very center of soul. “Ah, well, they can probably catch fire. Regina’s going to teach me how to do those ball things, anyway.” “Absolutely menacing, Your Highness.” “Don’t you forget it.”

The room is getting brighter.

Or Killian’s finally fallen off that edge. Either one seems entirely reasonable and maybe even a little enjoyable and he’s not sure when, exactly, he decides to start talking again. Only that the words arrive without much thought and even more feeling and Emma’s eyes don’t leave him.

“It was a mask. A reason for everything else, an excuse that I’d rationalized so I could fall asleep. Captain Hook was a product of his own misfortune, all those unfair hands he’d been dealt. The loss, the anger, the fury that grew every single time metal found skin. Being that, being him, allowed me to drift further and further into that darkness.” “But?” “But,” Killian repeats. “You found me under a pile of bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Oh, that’s kind of nice.” “It kind of was. After you got rid of the blade at my neck.” She flicks his chest. The knot of their limbs is another kind of miracle. “And then everything else that happened. Beanstalks, and Cora, and magic beans and—” “—You came back,” Emma cuts in. “Seems you’ve returned the favor several times over, love.” “That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think.” Maybe he’ll marry her.

The thought strikes him as suddenly as the lightning that flashes outside, a spark that’s eerily similar to the flames Emma was just talking about and there are far too many metaphors bouncing around his skull. He might just have a headache.

And yet the thought doesn’t disappear. Not immediately. No, it settles. Threatens to grow at the forefront of his brain, where the institution of marriage has never been given much consideration. Until now. With his left shoulder close to popping out of his socket, and Emma’s fingers in his hair and her back contorted while half a dozen bruises on his legs refuse to heal.

“I love you,” Killian says, unable to do anything else. Except propose, apparently. He should be alive for that.

And sitting up.

He can’t bring himself to sit up.

Only pull himself closer to Emma, until it’s obvious how much he wants and possibly needs and something about a circle. Coming back. Over and over.

“I know. Which is—” “—Good?” “Better,” Emma says. “I love you, too. Just you, you know that right?” Nodding leads to jeans scratching at his cheeks, but these pants fit fairly well too and both of them flinch at the noticeable creak coming down the stairs. Tufts of Henry’s hair stick up in every direction.

“You ok?” Emma asks her son, only to get a teenage-type shrug and genetically inherited head tilt.

Killian narrows his eyes. “What’s the matter, my boy?” The head tilt reaches an angle unaccomplished by anyone over the age of twenty-five. Killian isn’t even sure he could attempt such an angle. But it doesn’t seem to bother Henry and neither he nor Emma point out the use of those particular words in that particular order. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, already stumbling forward. Falling is likely far too generous a descriptor for whatever Henry does next, another mess of limbs that adds to Killian and Emma’s knot, and there are a few more grunts than there should be.

From all of them.

Until they find something resembling comfort, Killian’s head still on Emma’s thigh and her legs stretched out so Henry can take advantage of her right one and— “Probably should have found a pillow,” Killian mutters, hoping it sounds like the apology he wants it to be. It’s not enough. Nothing ever could be, really. And he’s not all that surprised by Emma’s head shake, the way it makes her hair sway and brighten under the bit of light they’ve probably created just now and she winces when Henry’s chin digs into her knee. He starts snoring five seconds later. “I’m fine,” Emma says, and it’s impossible to argue with her. Even in this impossible place. “You’re comfortable like this.”

His heart thumps.

With wishful thinking or more misplaced hope, but it’s there all the same and he kisses exactly where his lips land.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #laura writes canon #CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP WRITING SEASON FIVE ANGST #i saw some gifs of this moment last night and my brain was like: alright go #also: if the timeline of this doesn't make sense #don't tell me #i kind of looked at some episode synopsis and then decided i absolutely did not care #and if you can't see main street from mary margaret's loft then that's just too bad

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