#and he has to actually stand there and Be Nice to the fucking GNOME if he wants to stay in peppinos company

[undignifiedpopemobile]

my driver hotness rankings

besties and behateds of the jury, this is maybe the most unhinged thing i will ever post but it is my sistine chapel it is my mona lisa. this is to me what citizen kane was to orson welles. i will prove to you today that my driver hotness rankings are objectively correct. i have assembled the evidence i have constructed my argument. (love you ell this one's for you.)

20

nyck (i’m so sorry). look someone has to go last. i am not prejudiced against short kings but it must be acknowledged that in combination with the face he is giving gnome. also i have seen the shirtless pics, and he is more ripped than george for christ’s sake there are so many ridges on his torso. he looks, to steal a phrase from patton oswald, “painful to fuck.” and i don’t have a vibe check on him yet so there is nothing else to compel me (benoit blanc voice) also i am not yet convinced he’s fast, which would increase his standing, because, say it with me, being good at things is hot. check back in after a few races. the thing where they tied him to a wheel rack was funny but not enough.

19

pierre. he’s fooled so many people into thinking he’s attractive with his beard contour and his donald trump ass haircut covering a truly atrocious hairline but there is no force on earth that can cover being a crypto bro. i have known so many and they are, without exception, the worst and more irritating people on the planet. if you own an nft you are not hot. if you TALK about it you are less hot. he has abs or whatever but i honestly think he is too ripped, similar to nyck. and i haven’t even mentioned the fact he’s a pedophile! his narrative used to be compelling to me because he got kicked out of red bull and i love redemption but he is a mid driver and a bitch and christian was right to fire him.

18

lando. this one may be controversial but i’m right and i can prove it: he looks like he’s twelve years old. who am i, pierre? i think the fuck not. admittedly he has nice eyes but he has a very oddly-shaped head. i could snap him like a twig, which looking at my dating history is not necessarily a deal breaker, but it is if he’d whine like a little bitch the whole time. he has never known the touch of a woman and he never will. the vibes are also atrocious: he’s a spoiled brat, and his interests are twitch and golf?????? he might not say racial slurs but he definitely crosses the street if he sees a black man. says he feels “uncomfortable” being around gay men with his shit off. bitch. i must clarify that i don't actually hate him but he has committed the worst crime to me: being a little irritating.

17

checo. people say he looks like tom cruise with a double chin but i just watched top gun and no he fucking does not. he looks more grizzled than fernando but in a haggard way not in a rugged cowboy way and he’s got a dad bod but not in a hot way. and the vibes are fucking off, absolutely swagless. fucking come on he’s had two seasons of getting his ass HANDED to him by max every week. i know it’s hard to be max’s teammate or whatever but i am pointing to him and saying MID. i don’t know anything about him personally except he’s got rich sponsors, he probably cheated on his wife, and he’s a homophobe. however he will move up if he goes full rosberg in 2023 and ruins christian’s life i do not pretend to be unbiased. the thesis of this one is that it is not hot to be boring. but if he becomes interesting i will change my mind.

16

oscar. see lando. he looks like a child! i do not believe he is 21 they are LYING because he's actually 14 and it should be illegal to let him drive. i do not believe he remembers obama’s first election. he’s up higher because i believe he is considerably more attractive than lando he has a sweet honest face i would kiss his little cheeks. but is he hot? ask again in five years. the narrative is also compelling to me because he did said “fuck the french” and that is hot that is HOT, but again, as of yet no vibe check. i see something in his eyes that indicates to me he may win the twink war but until first blood is spilled that is only hypothetical. sorry oscar nothing against you honey.

15

kmag. ok look. maybe i just don’t remember what kmag actually looks like but the picture on the f1 website is not flattering he looks like the stock photo wincing old man. i don’t think he’s unattractive really but i cannot put him above the rest of this list i fear! when he got pole that was really hot but what else is he giving? talking about balls? that wasn’t hot when dan did it and it’s not hot for kmag either. the vibe check should have enough data to produce something but it is coming up empty!!! i just do not know i’m sorry kevin. you do not have the x factor. you are not irritating, but to me, you are boring.

14

estie! you know he was below kmag but today i saw that gifset of him with long hair…. i could fix him (get him a hair stylist) he’s uncomfortably lanky. rat man may be affectionate, but rat man nevertheless. also i played myself by comparing himself to the flushed away rat because now i cannot see him without thinking about that. he’s got a really hot girlfriend which means he’s probably a feminist (will go down on a woman) and i know he doesn’t come from money. both of these things compel me tis true! but they are not enough to overcome the tragic truth that he looks like a cartoon character

13

hulkenberg. look ell i know i said he was conventionally attractive and i stand by that. he IS. but he also looks like a fucking ken doll. he has the GR wax doll disease. he went into the uncanny valley and he fucking founded a city-state there he’s building fucking governance structures and supporting a small private army to defend trade routes. his skin is so like….. tight. uncomfortable. and he is not redeemed by the vibe check. a million fucking races and no podium? and he wasn't only in shit cars! he was supposed to be a world champion coming up through the feeder series and he fell short of his potential. falling short of your potential is narratively compelling, but not in a hot way. i am pressing the big buzzer that says MID. boring.

12

lance. literally forgot about him until i got to number seven and then i was like….. wait a minute wait a fucking minute. he and nando are mirror opposites lance is here purely by virtue of his conventionally attractive little face. i can hear the ghosts of my jewish ancestors telling me to settle down with the nice billionaire jewish boy. but you know what? his voice is fucking irritating as shit and he has the least interesting variety of daddy issues. he’s got no fucking personality and he’s a nepo baby and he’s a mid ass driver and lawrence will not convince me otherwise by holding a gun to nando’s head and making him say shit about how good his stupid little failson is. 

11

NANDOOOOOOO ok i know this one is controversial but i don’t give a shit it’s my list. i know he’s fucking eighty do you think i care? no. i couldn’t give less of a shit what he looks like. all that matters to me is that he wakes up every single day and chooses to be a mischievous little bastard who foments….. something. el plan etc etc. yes he fucking blackmailed mclaren yes he has committed war crimes yes he is a misogynist. what is this twitter? i do not have to be morally correct here. and lest we forget he is in fact a fantastic fucking driver (hot). let the slow dismantling of the stroll dynasty begin. and he has the most important variable in my calculations: he is interesting.

10

guanyu. my problem here is vibe check coming up empty. he’s reasonably good looking, he’s nice, he seems to be in love with val (good taste! see the coffee video) he’s the second most stylish man in the paddock mostly by virtue of the competition being fucking pathetic. he’s a little short but i am not prejudiced against short kings! but personality wise i fear there is not much there although probably this is on me for being a dumb american and not speaking chinese. also he’s like. ungodly rich. like richer than stroll. and the CCP of it all is not beautiful. perhaps most damningly: is he a good driver? i do not know! give him another year, but the jury remains undecided. he is right in the middle but i reserve the right to move him up pending developments

9

logan. you don’t know how much it pains me to put this motherfucker in the top ten. he looks like he was recruited into the us military directly out of high school because he was failing english and knew he couldn’t get into college, but unfortunately he is also objectively very handsome. he’s not higher for obvious reasons (florida. donald trump.) but i cannot put him lower purely off the virtue of his captain america fucking face. fuck him i hope alex makes him cry real tears on track by lapping him in every single race. but he is hot. maybe he'll prove me wrong and he can stay here! but if he brings fucking..... jd vance or whatever as a guest to a gp it's straight to 20 i shit you not.

8

alex. out of all the men on this list alex is probably the one i would most like to date. he’s nice, he’s reasonably charming, he’s a feminist, he’s got the angst of losing that red bull seat without the pierre of it all, he’s got the compelling homoerotic friendship with george but you know what this is not sash’s list of dateable men it is driver hotness and we must acknowledge the fact that he is not particularly good looking! like estie he has a fucking banana nuts hot girlfriend, but facially he is not always giving. he’s cute; he’s not necessarily hot. he’s this high only because i kept bumping him up because i was like “well i can’t put him below fucking LOGAN”. also, while i believe he’s a good driver, is he REALLY good, or just good? beating the shit out of latifi does not convince me of anything! like mick beating the shit out of mazepin it’s pretty much guaranteed to happen.

7

max. ok ell hear me out. right now he is not looking too hot but it's because of the bad haircut and he’s not racing. being good at things, say it with me, is hot and the only thing, the ONLY THING in max’s life is being good at racing. he’s fucking fast. also, he seems like he’s actually kind of a fun guy. when he laughs at his own jokes that is very cute i think. the little eye crinkles. the cheeks. when he’s got his hair grown out a little and a five o’clock shadow going… he can fool me into thinking he’s actually good looking and doesn't a little bit resemble sid the sloth from the ice age movies (sorry. but it's true) and the version of him i have made up in my head and convinced myself is real is extremely fucking compelling!!!! admittedly the kelly dynamic almost knocked him down but it takes two people to make a dynamic and i guarantee you i would not be giving any maternal energy at all. i think i could fix him (introduce him to pegging)

6

yuki. that’s right fuck you. he’s funny as fuck and we could do karaoke together. i would carry him around in my tote bag and he could eat off the children’s menu at restaurants (cost of living is high you save where you can.) he’s giving face and he’s giving body he’s actually so fucking handsome and the reason people are sleeping on how beautiful he is is because of the particularities of anti-asian racism, where “western” people read traditionally east-asian features as unmasculine, and therefore they are either fetishized or dismissed as romantic/sexual partners entirely. well i’m anti-racism bitch! yuki is HOT! also i know he’s not that good at driving or whatever but do you know what’s even hotter than being good at things? not giving a SHIT!!!! yuki is the spiritual successor to kimi raikonnen on this grid i’m fucking right and i’m the only one brave enough to say it. f1 is a hobby for him and he treats the sport exactly as it should be treated (with disdain, like it’s a mild inconvenience or errand on par with vacuuming) maybe this is inconsistent with my "being good at things is hot theory" but you know what? fuck you. it's my list i do what i want. if i contradict myself than i contradict myself

5

george. yeah…… i’m quite frankly a little shocked and upset he’s this high. i know i made this list myself but i’m not keeping track very well in all honesty and i’m about four drinks in. but you know what? i’m not blaming alcohol. this is accurate for my hotness rankings. i’m a bit of a george girl at the moment. every new fact i learn about him makes him more compelling to me. he's the george bit of alex's homoerotic relationship with george! really i only need one story about him to compel me: getting himself into the merc driver program with the power of microsoft powerpoint. he’s the most “he’s just like me fr” driver on the grid for me and i’m a big enough woman to admit that. the version of him i’ve made up inside my head has a personality and you know what? unfortunately for the haters he has proved them all wrong and he’s an excellent fucking driver. i don’t think he’s better than lewis but he stood up to the pressure of that second merc seat fucking fantastically even with his biological father there judging his performance the whole time! and i know he looks a little bit like a robot but it must be admitted! he is attractive! he’s got a great body! idk i’m gaslighting myself i guess it’s my deep-seated american desire to infiltrate the upper classes of england and bring it all down from the inside. but i’m keeping him in spot number five. and fuck anyone who disagrees.

4

valtteri. i mean. other than yuki the closest to kimi we can get on the current grid. lost his merc seat and immediately said “my ass will be fully out for the rest of my life and there is nothing you can do about it” can you imagine the amount of time toto wasted just saying “no valtteri you cannot post hole on instagram”. he’s a feminist he’s an icon! he’s not an outstanding driver but he’s solid! by number of wins currently fourth best cunt on the grid i believe! the mustache! he has alex albon energy in that i would actually date him but i think he’s more attractive. he is the only blond-haired blue-eyed man on the list who does not even a little bit activate the “nazi detector” in my brain which is admittedly a little overactive in the current political climate. i don’t know love isn’t rational. but i love him. i love him, your honor. and you will not convince me otherwise with facts (he's not really objectively all that physically attractive)

3

carlos. look the ferrari boys were pretty close together and ell i know you disagree with me here but ultimately it comes down to one thing i will discuss in the charles ranking and a couple things i will discuss here. yes he’s hot. fucking obviously. it’s barely worth pointing it out he’s outrageously attractive. but as i have said many times hotness is about more than the physical! and the vibe check is mixed. he does have the most compelling flavor of daddy issues (father is loving and supportive but still an unattainable ideal. the closest thing to god on earth for carlos sainz jr is carlos sainz sr and what a terrible legacy that is to bear) but on the other hand golf! and he has a weird and not very sexy voice! and he’s probably violently catholic! and there’s stories about him being kind of a dick to fans! i did not verify either of those things but fuck you this isn't journalism. and, most damningly, i believe that when it comes to driving he is…… FUCKING MID. there i said it. he got lucky his first year with and he’s still in denial about being the second driver to charles leclerc. have you seen the fucking instagram? girl fred vasseur may say he'll let it be decided on track but charles is coming to family dinners in the vasseur household. delusion is not hot unless it’s in a funny way (see: fernando, el plan). and i swear to christ if he messes up even a single race for charles this season because he thinks he’s better i will knock him down to the bottom of his list without remorse.

2

charles. it’s my list fuck you. other than george, charles (the version of him i have made up inside my head) is the most like me on the grid. he is— pause for dramatic effect— fucking COMPELLING. (benoit blanc voice) you know i love a narrative and he’s got a fucking narrative. he plays the piano (hot) he’s got the sexiness of the french language without the lameness of being french (yes i believe monaco is a historical mistake and a geopolitical aberration and should be incorporated into france and all those cunts should pay taxes but objectively monaco is very sexy!!! walt whitman i contain multitudes) and he’s got the catholic guilt of driving for ferrari without the lameness of actual catholicism (looking at you carlos) is he the most interesting bitch in the world? no. but he can hold a conversation, he has more interests than just racing and video games, and he’s much funnier in french, and as these boring ass guys go he’s pretty funny even in english. also, again, takes two to make a dynamic and i am funny enough for any two people on the planet. also, and this must be said, he’s a fucking excellent driver. BEING GOOD AT THINGS IS HOT! AND we have not even mentioned the fact that physically speaking he is what we call a Specimen. he’s got body, he’s got face. i know you don’t think he does ell but with respect you are wrong. he’s got the cheekbones he’s got the nose he’s got the fucking ridiculous shoulder to hip ratio, he’s got the hand porn. he has literal protagonist eye syndrome (they appear to be different colors depending on the lighting) he’s fucking insanely hot.

1

Lewis. I mean it’s just quite literally the only correct answer. he’s giving face, he’s giving body. the tattoos! dan thinks he has cool tattoos but he has pete davidson disease lewis actually has really cool tattoos. but his hotness is literally the least compelling thing about him. he’s multi-talented (music??? so hot) he’s not just a racer, but like, let’s not discount the fact he is the best f1 driver of all time. like i’ve established it’s hot when people are good at things (except golf). he’s not a businessman he’s a business, man. he’s got mad fucking drip. his politics are.............. of mixed quality really but by comparison he's practically bernie sanders. of all the drivers he’s the one i think i could make a socialist if i had a twenty minute conversation with him. i could get him to read marx i could get him to read zizek. not even to mention the compelling fucking narrative of his life. the karting years the brocedes of it all the mclaren civil war he is producing CONTENT. yes he speaks like a motivational poster and the dog account is cringe but the flaws make him human. if he were too perfect he would be less hot. 

this is the judgement of the court

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 14: Cruelty

“You don’t have to do all the exercises or anything,” Orym continues as they share breakfast before breaking camp, “but the meditation might be beneficial. There’s something about a nice cliffside breeze…”

“That reminds you how close the edge and how far away the ground are?” Ashton finishes.

“I’m not trying to put you on a skysail or anything. Just thought it might be nice to feel the air before we move out for the day.”

“I’m not like you, man,” Ashton tries to explain. “This head doesn’t clear. Apart from when we’re in a fight and I’m running off pure emotion.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I—” Orym pauses, swallows. “That’s cool.”

But there was that hesitation, the downcast look in his eyes, the desire to press the issue, that told Ashton it wasn’t cool, or fine, that Orym was humoring them, trying to spare their feelings, but clearly thought Ashton was in the wrong. “What’s your deal? Why does your shit have to be everyone’s shit?”

“Ash, I wasn’t—”

“No, just quit the act. I get it. You’re not really interested in me, just in who you wish you could make me. Did you ever really want me? Or did you just want someone you could fix? Because I see you trying to do that to everyone else. ‘Fearne, let’s do something about your little kleptomania problem’, ‘Imogen, you need to have more faith in yourself’, ‘Chetney, have you tried not being such an ancient fuck?’

Ashton sees the gnome turn toward them as he raises his voice. Orym clearly noticed it as well. “I never said that.”

“Fine,” Ashton growls. “I made that one up.” He turns to Orym. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fucking busybody!”

ao3

Orym avoids them for most of the day’s journey; the others pretty much do so as well, after hearing the morning’s outburst. That suits him fine. Better they just think he’s an asshole than for anyone to try to talk to him about the whole incident. Too many people in Ashton’s life have wanted to change them. Starting with their folks, assuming that whole thing had been intentional. The matrons at the orphanage, trying to churn out good citizens, whatever the fuck that meant. Hexum and her fucking creepy-ass smile and ‘good boy’, like he had any interest in pleasing her beyond what it took to make her leave him alone.

And now Orym, wanting them to try meditating, like that was gonna fix whatever was wrong with their brain.

So when they make camp for the evening, Ashton does his part for the setup, takes his share of dinner, and makes himself scarce at the edge of the clearing to start eating. Orym at least has the manners to wait until they set the bowl down to approach; but Ashton still moves to get up as he does so.

“Ash, please.” And Ashton wants to interpret that as yet another thing that Orym has tried to push on them, but whether it’s the sound of the nickname or the fact that it was Orym that gave it to them, they actually don’t mind being called it. Ashton stays seated, but looks away as Orym sits beside them. “I need to talk to you. And you don’t need to answer me, or even accept what I’m saying, but you're going to listen.”

Ashton gives a slight nod, never having been on the wrong side of one of Orym’s more forceful moods before.

“I would never try to push you into anything you didn’t want to do. If that’s what you thought I was doing this morning, I’m sorry. I was inviting you to share in something I loved. I dropped the subject when it was clear you weren’t interested. And if I seemed disappointed, it was because… well… I was. I want to share everything with you, Ash. Everything I can. But I’m sorry if it came off like I was judging you, or pressuring you. If there’s a better way I can—”

“Fucking stop talking.” Ashton wants to dismiss the apology as being too perfect. Prepared, rehearsed, carefully crafted to say all the right things. But they’ve never known Orym to be anything but genuine. And they reach out to grab Orym by the arm as he stands and begins to move away. “I didn’t mean like that. You shouldn’t apologize, I should. I’m sorry I’m fucking like this.”

“Ash, don’t.”

And the tenderness and the caring in those words hurt somehow, like they always do coming from Orym, but it’s a good pain, like a really intense massage or pulling off a scab to reveal the new skin underneath. “Fine. But I am like this, and I shouldn’t project my bullshit onto you. I wish I knew how not to.”

“I guess it just takes practice. Like anything. Like this.” And he twists his arm free of Ashton’s grasp so they can lace their fingers together, then lays his other hand along Ashton’s jaw and kisses him.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

who says you're not getting an ask? because I'm giving you one right now!

anyway, I'm curious about Burn Fast, Burn Bright. not anything specific really, just surprise me ig. I love that fic of yours a whole lot as I'm sure I've stated to you before.

CAN WE GET ON WITH THIS?? TY!!! fic in question, which is OLD as HELL and I got second hand embarrassment from all the things I could’ve done better MAN. here are my thoughts before we get into it;

- this was the second fic I’d written for stanuary, and one of the longer fics I’ve written Ever actually. 15k words. I don’t know how I was able to produce so many words for these events ngl I hope I can redo that this year ANYWAY. first impressions? shallow angst. I think that’s what this is gonna be TO ME, because I’m the author and I hate myself. this was written almost a year ago… ough

- the descriptions will be Okay, but could be Better. I think I’ve gotten better at those hopefully.

- I was writing a lot of 80s angst during this time period and this was the second in that bunch. loose ties and ends, that one kid from jersey, unfortunate ends, like?? I was on a roll. what was wrong with me (still wrong with me)

- the gnomes are here? damn. I like gnomes

- oh that summary. already fucking me up

- I’m going in with the mindset that even at the time I knew that there was improvement to be had. This is my growing. I’m STILL growing. we can do this. I was still trying to find my groove. NOW LETS GOOOOOO

He’s left the damned duffel bag.

The one thing he had to take, and he’s left it behind. Stan has nothing to curse but his own self, because how is he so stupid as to not notice for a whole day? He’d spent the whole day driving through Oregon, hopping from gas station to gas station and it’s only now, the next morning, that he realizes there are no extra clothes to change into?

already onto a great start /genuine. an earlier draft had this to be a Lot more aggressive—using exclamation points and harsher language and shit, but once I realized that it would be a little odd that we start so strong, I toned it down. I think it gives a bit more of ‘resonate despondence’, which is very (sometimes) stan

Ford had always been bad at explaining things. He always expected the listener to know exactly what he’s talking about, be at his exact intelligence level, so that his ‘explaining’ could be understood with just a few words. 100% of the time, that isn’t the case.

literally me. best but of ford characterization someone could have conjured fr

okay already a detour but did you guys know I read my fics in my head in a VERY SPECIFIC tone, and that’s why most of the italicizations and em dashes exist? that’s why they’re there because if someone doesn’t read it the way I do I slowly die inside /silly I still do it today and I have to remind myself that I shouldn’t have to do everything for my reader. I should trust them.

(Yeah, Stan wants to let his anger out, but he’s not gonna kill the guy. Ford looks fragile enough as it is, and if he fights any harder he’ll probably break his leg or a rib. No point in damaging him, really.)

yes that’s so nice stan. you’re such a good brother dude oh my GOD IM—

this whole ford pleading scene here. here’s some bits;

“It…” Ford inhales deeply. “It’s not forever. I just need it away.”

“I don’t—Stan, I don’t want you to sail away to the ends of the Earth.”

“This—this, right here, I can’t do it.” Ford gestures to the portal wildly, giving it a scowl that could give Stan a run for his money. He almost thinks it’s directed at him, since he stands in front of the machine’s eye. “I can’t fix this!”

oh I’m feeling the feelings what the fuck. I can hear the last dialogue SO WELL. I remember vividly rewatching atots like four times just to listen to the fight and I’m still not desensitized. like the way ford delivers such a genuinely misguided request and seeing nothing wrong with how it might be worded which ALSO being on the verge of snapping? yeah ford I’ll give you a pass you’re going through shit. I’m so glad it still reads!!!

“I’m already too far gone, Stanley, an-and I can’t think of anyone else, anyone who would want to help.”

ohhhhhi can hear this too. it’s a Hint you know. it’s supposed to tip you off; something is REALLY wrong….

okay I’m restraining myself from pasting this entire ford exchange but it’s so GOOD. I’m flattering myself. And I didn’t even take that long on it I remember I wrote most of chapter one in a single burst. everything you see? barely edited. all put on at once. threw up on a page. I was feeling things

Ford sets the Journal aside. He, aside from the glaring obvious, does not look shaken up. “Yes, I know. Never… see me again.”

He sounds bitter. Almost too bitter for his liking. It’s almost contagious, from how it seems to roll off him and outwardly.

“You…” Stan has to phrase this kindly. “You know I don’t want that, right?”

Ford doesn’t relax. Instead, his gaze only darkens. “I know.”

i remember crying. I was tearing UP. that’s them. that’s something I would say if I were stan. make sure they know that I don’t want that. I…!!!!

Stan wonders what Stan will say.

one of the few bits I was smiling for when writing this….

So he should be here.

I forgot the name for this literary device even though I started using it religiously after this BUT YEAHHHHHHHH GET OUR FEELINGS BABE

not gonna paste it but what ford(‘s body) is hiding by. I’m gonna be honest despite watching atots so much I forgot where the portal opened. like dead ass, so I made it up. the bookshelf is supposed to be the portal. I think the fic ‘by the skin of your teeth’ was still severely affecting me and that was the portal in that fic. this is what you get when you don’t check your references. it literally happened to me yesterday! I was finishing up chapter six of do you remember hanging up the stars and it was about aziraphale and crowley on the ark back in 3000 bc right. I forgot what the ark looked like other than a Single Memory so I bullshitted it. I then remembered I had a Resource, Checked, and it was. well I completely forgot about where the humans would’ve gone. lol

I can’t paste it all bc it’s like the whole fic but Stan’s DENIAL. the way he’s sooooo deep in it that it’s a physical jarring when he’s ripped out of it. he’s literally such a denial grieved it’s SICK and I can’t believe I wrote it so easily. Ahem. that says things I think whether good or bad is up to your interpretation

some of these dialogues are weirdly cut off. I think Stan’s a lot more of a run on sentencer. hm

okay now I’m getting into the secondhand embarrassment that would probably be extreme heartbreak had into created this. I think at this point I was very emotionally worn down; not just from writing but Life too. there’s not much to say. it just Exists

oh that fucking letter. fucking letters. I love ford letters you know that they’re so delectable especially when he’s allowed to make them long. this WHOLE THING. wow. and the way he OPENS IT. classic ‘we don’t have much time’ action type beat *writes a two paged letter*. also the crossing out things. I’m a fucking genius. augh

I don’t know if you would like to stay in Gravity Falls after this, but I would like you to do two things, the two things I could not.

UHM EXCUSE ME YOU REALLY THINK SO?? LIKE GENUINELY??? woah buddy. anyways this hurts me because I know he’s being genuine about this he DOESNT know if Stan would like to stay. he doesn’t know. HE DOESNT KNOW—

Unless there is an afterlife, this is Stanford Pines, your brother, signing off.

(Thank you, Stan. For everything.)

THAT. THAT? I was kicking my little evil feet oh I WAS. I was thinking ‘what could I do in character that could REALLY fuck you up?’ and I landed there. I loved it so much I literally used the thank you ploy again for a recent whumptober entry and it STILL HIT FOR ME. like. ford and thank yous. always painful 🥹

Two: After all this?

Stan isn’t planning to last a week.

see look it’s funny because. because the summary is about stan always following through with his plans. it was a parallel. he went through with a plan and it resulted in ford fucking off the face of the earth. so now he’s got a new one. new mission, new plan, new end. I loved thatshit…..

He didn’t expect for the pawn off to be so violent.

I had a very different opening here; it was something with bill watching everything before unfold and THEN cut to ford going through with the plan? but then I decided ‘hey wait a sec we never see stan LEAVE after that little flashback. how did that leaving go?’ and now we’re here. damn I even had an alt opening

now that we know ford’s suicide is inevitable (and that we’re in his head) I start slathering that foreshadowing everywhere….

“Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But I’m comin’ back, ya hear me? I’m not leavin’ you again.”

it’s giving crowley saying ‘I’m coming back, I won’t leave you alone’. hehehe

It does untangle, after a few seconds of frantic pulling and Ford’s shouting beforehand.

Stan doesn’t have the decency to apologize. He flaps his palm as if he got burned. “Yeesh. Your hair’s a mess.”

look it’s funny because. because. well you know. hair untangling. corpse

“And get some fucking sleep! You look half-dead!”

There it is.

yeahhhhhhh I was just being mean. stan babygirl he’s already going to do it. don’t add insult to injury

It was time to enact Plan A. If Plan A didn’t work (which it had to. He didn’t even have a Plan B) then it’d be time to panic.

the original title for this fic (like the FIRST ONE. not when I turned this into a two parter) was called ‘Plan B’, because 1) plan A indeed does not work and plan b is suicide, and 2) B for Bill. :)

But knowing Stanley, he’d find a way to show just how pissed off he was at Ford even if he was in the afterlife.

:) x2. still proud of this

When Fiddleford first learned of the gnomes, he was more than disturbed. Almost spooked. Ford had insisted that as long as you had bug spray and mushrooms, they would be manageable. Sadly, Fiddleford had thought mushrooms ‘takin’ care of the problem’ would be in warding them away, that mushrooms were a repellant of some kind.

FIDDLEFORD MY BELOVED!!!! I love writing beats like this I still do. it’s just so nice to take random hcs and put them in the most tense and matter of fact situations just to distract us a little. make us look away, but not entirely. ough

He wants to shake on it.

it’s the little traumas that break our hearts.

okayyyyyy I’ll be honest ford leaving the portal for someone else to kill it is Very ooc. I’ll admit that. but I need my Scenario!!!!! I don’t regret it. just know that I acknowledge it. *cries*

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the ‘method’. oh ‘the method’. fucking kills me. he debated ont his. rationally. RATIONALLY I WAS LITERALLY THAT ONE MEME THATS SCREAMING AT MY CHARACTERS TO STOP BUT IM THE ONE WHOS PUTTING THEM THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE—

ough. the bullet points. okay I’m running out of commentary steam but let me say this. I asked for hcs on my blog right? so I could put some of those here because even I run out of hcs eventually, and people DELIVERED. I loved them. I put every single one in at least One point, and seeing these tiny memories just spring up at he’s doing this is like that thing with the fiddleford/mushrooms bit. he’s distracting himself. making th situation less scary in his eyes. OUGH

OH AND THE PILLS NOT BEING FORD’S BUT STAN’S? ONE OF MY KAST ALTERATIONS BUT SOOOOOOO WORTH IT. NO NOTES JUST ULTIMATE ANGST

Ford had considered being a doctor for some time while in elementary school. It was a given, considering his intelligence and avid nature towards sciences. His love for the supernatural always gave in however, and it has won every battle. But for a long time after, a part of him wanted to be a chemist, a manufacturer, a creator. Sure, it soon became a pipe dream, but for a while it was a genuine choice.

But Ford is an experimenter. He realized early on that he wouldn’t be able to resist pouring the components and chemicals on his skin, if only to see how they would react to human flesh.

motherfucker.that guy is literally me

btw these spaces after the em dashes are killing my soul. I remember once that I thought everyone else was wrong with no spaces and I was right. Oh, past me. No.

How could you not love someone like that?

God, he’s never going to see him again.

*SNIFF*

4.5 million humans in the world. 230 million humans in America. 7 million in New Jersey. 2 million in Oregon. Around sixty or seventy species of anomalies in Gravity Falls alone. And that doesn’t even account past Earth, if Crash Site Omega was accounted for.

I had to look all that shit up I don’t even know if it’s right. at first it’d been modern day stats but THEN I remembered that we’re in the fucking 1980s so ofc it’s different. ALSO LOOOK I FUCKED UP IT SAYS MILLION NOT BILLIONS. IM GONNA DIE. FUCK. either way we stay silly we stay silly!!! just know that little paragraph has caused me so much grief.

Ford always hated funerals.

this was the beginning of the ‘we hate funerals’ saga. still do hate them. I hate them, ford hates them, crowley hates them, ALL OF THE HOMIES HATE THEM 🫵🫵 /j

Mania is a feeling he knows well, and this is not that.

lmao name drop *i was on the verge of tears*

It’s Ford, the snow, and his candle, which has no more wax to burn.

THE TITLE THE TITLE THE TITLE—

the spacing. the html gave me sooooo much trouble but it was worth it!!!! every space was deliberated and checked and shit. ough. OUGH

okayyyy im capping it here because I’m so so tired. but!!! here it is. I just. wow. Less yet more corny than I thought this would be. I hope you enjoyed that little roller coaster, and I’m off on Life Adventures. Which means Errands. fuck…..

[britcision]

SO I TOLD Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS ABOUT MY PERFECT BEAUTIFUL SON HAVOC

And HeroForge has another update

With more FACES and SLIDERS to control facial features, and better clothes! So, obviously, I redid my boy (pics and crimes below the cut)

And the very most important thing to do was make sure all those new fancy facial features did not accidentally put one single brain cell behind his eyes

But see, what I also did was remake his partners (the gnome has gone genderfluid I do not make the rules)

(They are all my NPCs)

And while they are not being shown here they ARE all getting their own fancy dress up outfits, because HeroForge got some nicer fancy clothes

His girlfriend Eira got herself a nice suit because skirts in wheelchairs are not always great

His partner Ellywick got a fancy swishy dress to try and hamper their efforts to fight the fellow guests

And Havoc

My beautiful boy Havoc

Havoc is 7’ tall standing on flat feet.

And I gave his regular outfit up there assless chaps. You can’t tell easily, but I did and I know it.

His partners are either perma-sat in a wheelchair, or 3’ tall outright. And you KNOW they still absolutely took every chance available to put that gorgeous mountain of a man in heels, because HeroForge limits THEIR options to be thotty and also classy but godsdammit it will not limit Havoc!

So.

Well.

This happened.

And it started with the vest, because I demanded only the deepest v-neck and got sad when his arms were covered, I layered decals and everything.

And then. The fancier dressier assless chaps exist. But like. So do over the knee boots?

And. He looks so good.

And HeroForge allows POSES.

So, y’know. Fashion show?

And the other thing that it is Super Vitally Important for you guys to understand is that one of the minigames I made for the party is that occasionally they get to have a Dress Up Episode and go to very fancy parties, because the Bard was accidentally partially responsible for the development of the escort union by being kidnapped

(This only just came out they are all very upset and plotting to kill his kidnappers, along with the party)

The Bard has made it explicitly clear he’s not going home yet and will still be going to these parties, all his friends are there

But

This means…

There’s a reason for characters to be all fancied up in game.

And Havoc has a fancy outfit now.

And his mom the level 20 chaos warlock has to be invited to every single party or the criminal underworld has to live in fear that she might get offended and actually show up.

So fucking YES Havoc is going to the next fancy party to go see his cousin the Bard at work and meet all his lovely work friends and YES he is wearing that and YES he is immediately being invited up onto the escort dais to hang out and talk shop with the beautiful people

He’s beautiful and perfect and the party are going to fucking die and oh don’t tell them but the Bard’s kidnapper is also going to be there to be creepy and scare the shit out of the Bard and his whole thing is mind control But Havoc Has No Brains

Havoc’s so dumb he has a pet intellect devourer that they have taught to eat cheese because if it tried to eat Havoc’s thoughts it would starve to death

(Its name is Itty Bitty

Oh and Havoc’s party are the Itty Bitty Titty Committee

I introduced them as the IBTC and it took the Cleric about 3 minutes)

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

random notes on naddpod c1 ep 70-100

part three of the list of personal highlighs, shared here in lieu of chewing my very indifferent friends’ ears off irl. For whom it may concern.

spoiler warning! you will get no context but still, massive massive spoilers ahead

That moment where Hardwon almost came back as a gnome tho, right after Murph explains how he left that option in as a joke

The wrestling! Jake and Emily rolling the exact same three times in a row!

so much good parents content in this episode! Also Melora is back, I adore her. The concept of an anti-authoritarian deity is so funny. “No don't listen to me! But do. But don't!”

I’m with Emily, Murph doing Elvish is the actual worst thing to ever happen

“I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch in my relationship but that’s okay because I found a book that lets me kill my dad.” “Everything’s coming up Beverly!”

“You can’t tell us your character’s name, Zac, because they haven’t met you yet.” “And they never will!” “Yeah, I kept telling you they’re not going to the Frigid North but you wouldn’t listen.” “I keep heading north.” “I keep telling you, they’re south, they’re so far south -”

Zac’s characters gaslighting an NPC is always funny. *badly tells a bold-faced lie* “Why would I lie about that?”

“Unsheep him immediately!”

Ren’s laughter is INFURIATING

“Yeah, he lost both contacts. Both contacts just shot out of his eyes when he was giving the speech earlier.”

I cannot for the life of me figure out if any of them are actually good singers or not

Pursuit of Dragon Eggs

Zac “unofficial King of the One-liner” Oyama at it again with the perfect character intro: “Mavrus the Unschooled who… forgot this assignment”

Genuinely I just want to be as effortlessly funny as Zac for a single day. Just to know what it’s like to live like that.

Finally a realistic magical tournament - now with bathroom breaks!

-

Mawmaw is back! I love her so much

Lucanis doting on his newfound daughter is so sweet

“We shall meet at dawn!” “That’s so early, can we do like nine?”

Murph doing out of touch aristocrats (the “SilvONE percent”, Caldwell is on FIRE) is GOLDEN. “Ren, keep working on yourself.” “I won’t.”

The Boobs getting Balnor a mechanical tuna that sings Chasing Cars

Also this might be the first time I’ve seen the DM carrying on a bit for so long it actively stalls the plot, and I loved every dumb second of it

Murph trying to introduce Cooter’s new high eleven girlfriend, fucking up and calling her his wife instead, and having to take that in stride

“Nice cape, my champion.” “Oh, do you like it? I got it expressly to impress you.” HARDWON

“It’s fourteen platinum. I know you have many slides to build.” “Yes, this will go a long way to build the parliamentary water park.”

-

Progressively useless shop links

The bit about them trying to get Murph to give up the cliffhanger while on tour is so funny because a) the idea that Jake would be the one to go looking for Murph’s notes while Emily and Caldwell keep him busy when they are literally IN EMILY’S ROOM and b) that he’d somehow have to try to break in when it is LITERALLY ALSO EMILY’S ROOM

Caldwell calling Murph “Daddy Murphy”, “Daddy DM” and “Teacher” in quick succession while trying to get away with some Classic Beverly Bullshit absolutely sent me

“I’m just gonna keep stabbing at the slit… and think nothing of the implications.” “Thanks, I hate it.” Well so do I, Murph, but you’re the one who gave this group an environment with a slit in it that people can push a sword through so. should have seen that coming a mile off

Of course I’d reach the extremely horny part of this episode while I’m standing in line at the supermarket 🙈

I was starting to think that maybe Murph had finally shaken his dice curse, but then he’s rolling for that fight at the casino with the bullywog and the enchanted sword and I think it’s been going on for like five rounds and neither of them has hit the other

“We should play this for real money.” “Have you seen my husband roll dice?!”

“You killed my beautiful boy!” “Mrs. Rosell?” “No, it’s Ilsed! Context clues, everyone!”

“Poetry or whatever the next level of hell is”

Hardwon’s flashback 😔

BABY PAWPAW

“Moonshine, there’s something about you. Things that don’t belong just… find a way of belonging when you’re around.” is such a knockout of a line. It’s so sweet, it almost made me cry.

Followed directly by “Pawpaw shits into your bib,” of course

“Fungus can’t eat plot armour, right?”

CALDWELL. Hot damn the man is too good at this.

“You killed me, Murphy!” “I have to take a bath! I need to go on a long walk! You ruined my night, Brian!”

“This is the hardest work it would be to bully anyone.” “I wrote a tragic backstory for you, loser!”

Running all three one on one encounters as one encounter is such a good move

“Hey what’s up with your hammer?” “The hammer’s gotten bigger, I have NOT gotten smaller!”

“How far were you from the edge, Moonshine?” “Forty feet. […] You gonna take me to the edge, Hardwon?” “I’ll do my best to get you over the edge, Moonshine.” “…what would you do if you were having sex and they were like, I’m forty feet away?” “I’d be like whoa, that’s pretty far.” “But I can get there with a full dash!” And then nobody, DM included, manages to get through a single sentence including the word edge for the next couple of minutes…

Murph’s gleeful “you guys are pissed at me”

“Hardwon, make out with him!” “I’m recording it on my recording orb.” “…who is this for?”

“I’m a falcon. Can I lift Bev up?” “Absolutely not!” “I’m gonna try anyway.” “You are like Link holding up a chicken. Just running with a flapping bird in one hand.”

Not Murph opening the Ilsed flashback with a full minute on cyclical aesthetic trends in architecture?

“Please don’t be hot, please don’t be hot…” “… a young, hot Ilsed -“ “No!!!” Same Bev. Same.

“You wanted to be special, and you are! It’s rare to find someone stupid enough to make a deal with me but with enough potential that I could still do something good with your body, we’ll done.” That’s brutal

Murph slowly losing his mind as his players debate whether hell is really all bad (“the first layer is like super rad”) and what the purpose of hell is “the purpose is for bad people to torture other bad people and it’s bad and it sucks and it’s hell??”

-

I too am weak for a loyal knight and I melt into a puddle every time Jake and Murph run through their Hardwon and Mawmaw routine

Also this seems as good a time as any to give a round of applause for the “dwarphanage” and “dwarphan” puns. It’s so funny it just never gets old

so amused by how both Jake and Caldwell have called Murph Brian to signal anger

41 to hit?? Is that even a thing?

“Well, my cat was sick and I’m feeling spicy”

“This is an insane dynamic for a twenty-five-year-old to be in the middle of.”

Cooter the Berry Boy

“…did you just quote Lin-Manuel Miranda? […] You shoot this beam of red hot light and it hits this thing and it begins to melt away as you give an insane speech that you took from someone who does not exist in this world.”

Jake’s quiet sob of “that’s plagiarism” in the background

“Yes, my name is ‘Luke Earthier’.” 😬

Murph giving his elves super ridiculous names but then hating when the PCs make fun of them is so funny. He fully played himself

But it’s also very sweet how he will just fully accept their dumb nicknames. Lucanus is Daddy Luke now. Pendergreens hasn’t been called by his actual name for weeks.

Zac, who obviously came in without a prepared intro, trying to come up with a two-liner on the fly and somehow deciding the word he’ll be trying to rhyme with is “Juiblex”

“The thing is, Zac, I wrote sketch with you for like a year, and -“ “We know you’re smart. Is the disappointing thing.”

Random flashforward to Apple and Cooter, lone survivors of the apocalypse, in a Denny’s in Shadowfell

“Trees are beautiful and cool, that’s one of the first things you learn as a Green Teen!” “He’s right! Trees are cool and you suck!”

“You get non-lethally Boromir’d”

absolute cruelest answer to whether the NPC was deceived by a 13 deception check: “Hey, man. Maybe.”

Emily forcing ridiculous world building on her DM, truly The Axford Move: “Take that hat off and debate me!” “Alright, you take that vest off!” “…do I have a vest on?”

*threatening reer* is an underrated Pawpaw noise

That cliffhanger at the end of Ep. 88 and the outrage

“We’re all gonna jump you after this!” “There’s so many of us here, man!” “We’re gonna box your ass, we’re gonna mail it to… to Spain!”

“You can listen to people threatening to put my ass in a box on the Short Rest -” “Hey, no. I’m only gonna celebrate your ass.”

“Murph. My hat has telekinesis, right?” “Yeah?” “Can I use my telekinesis to control the sphere that we just received from Akarot?” “…Yeah.” “Okay, sweet, I’m going to fling this Sphere of Chomping Shit Up with my telekinesis.” Murph, apparently remembering in this very moment he’s DMing for Emily “I disguise myself as him” Axford: “Oh no.”

Bev and Erlin pull a full “here at the end of all things”

Jeez this episode is just the Emily and Murph drama hour. She’s leaving her possum! I am upset!!

Cobb’s “would this be a bad time to invite you to my improv show” was perfectly timed

“I assume the horse of Famine is stalking me, so I put out a plate of food for it every night. To be hospitable.” EMILY!!!

“It’s this vendetta that this horse has for me.” “...do you think maybe the rider also has something to do with it?” (this in reference to the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse)

I love how Murph is making progressively scarier villains and the boobs just flatly refuse to take them even a little seriously

“Everybody wake the fuck up, Death is here! Like actual fucking Death?!” is almost as funny as Bev’s “Rise and shine, we’re in the shit again!” from the Galaderon arc

“The horses we ride were all killed by you!” 10/10 callback, no notes

“The end is nigh! Bird for sale! The end is nigh!”

Jake asks Murph to rate everyone based on looks, immediately regrets it when Murph ranks him fourth, after himself

Emily plugging the podcast itself on its 96th episode

Them workshopping Caldwell’s intro rhyme on air for several minutes, then finally getting the recap started only for Emily to interrupt Murph after half a sentence to point out he “says ‘dragon’ cute”

I’m still not over the shock that the “what an honour. what an injustice.” quote is from this podcast. Damn. (Also I somehow really expected that to be a Caldwell line.)

“You must understand, I’m under a tremendous amount of pressure, I can’t tell when people are joking.” Oh the line between Murph and Melora is growing thin

“You see yourself outsmarting Josh and turning his entire army against him, you turning Akarot’s steed into a dolphin, outing Balnor as the witch in the Autumn Court trials... Just a supercut of Murph whomps.”

“Hey man, I know I haven’t said this in a while, but fuck you!”

Hardwon fighting Jaina, Mawmaw and Old Cobb but barely fighting back is just plain tragic

“Peepaw, is this another lesson? Is this a lesson I’m not understanding the meaning of?” “Moonshine, this is because I’m disappointed in you!” Murph is taking no prisoners this ep, noted.

“It’s good. I think you’re good. You’re smart, you’re a great storyteller, and you’re mean! You’re a bad guy.” I love that this is both a joke and the greatest praise a writer can receive

“That is the wraith on the red horse’s turn. He is a dolphin. The dolphin on the bigger dolphin flops. In Hell.” again, NO respect for Murph’s apocalyptic riders

a brief and nearly incomprehensible aside about Meatloaf songs (whose political views WERE problematic but whose songs 100 percent occupy the exact aesthetic of this batshit insane scene)

Murph picked the worst Meatloaf song tbh

honestly my main gripe with Pendergreens is I cannot fucking understand him and that hurts my pride. please this is my second language

.

i love how religiously Emily is keeping Deadeye’s memory alive throughout this, it’s so sweet

Moonshine and Meemaw on the grandma tree </3

“I didn’t have you until I was 350 years old. By that time, I had already lost Marabelle. And here, now I got you. Now I got another sister.” this whole conversation is so perfect, but I really really love this part, it’s so lovely to acknowledge how your relationship to your parents can evolve over a lifetime (especially one as long as this)

Emily’s delight at finding the critter refugee colony in the grandma tree is so pure

Murph bringing back Caldwell’s worst Green Teen creation as a wholesome jamboreen campfire memory

and one last Cawcaw sighting

what is it with the entire d20 cast and fem characters with that half-shaved/undercut hairstyle. legit every time they want to make a fem character particularly cool they give them that haircut

not Murph trying to sus out Hardwon’s deal with Moonshine once and for all in the penultimate episode by any means necessary

“’I’ll just... get another brewsky, and then I’ll meet you... behind the tree in... t -5.’ And then Hardwon does a weird moonwalk away.”

Bev goofs one last time and once again falls from a great height

I want Denny’s “whelp, I’m alive!” as a soundbite

“What are the others up to? Are they in danger?” “... how old are you?” “Sixteen!” “.....they’re hangin’ out.”

"Can we say that what I did to Jaina was a sort of religious experience and counts as a zealous trance” is definitely one of the funniest things Murph has let Emily get away with

“Congratulations, y’all. You fucked in DnD”

.

Jake almost crying in his (presumably) last intro as Hardwon

Murph laying it on unexpectedly thick and Emily struggling to follow that up with the very silly intro she prepared

“One hour [of going down on someone] isn’t taking your time??”

One last Somber Boy Song! and what a song it was, damn, Caldwell!

“He has such a haunting boy voice! It feels like he’s just alone in an abandoned church.”

“No, I don’t intend to join you [in your fight against a god], mylady. You are a demigod. I am a butler.”

“Do you guys think the Gods were scared when people looked to them?” “If they weren’t, they weren’t doing it right.”

“Here’s what I’d like to do, Murph: I would like to blow the Horn of Valhalla, bring out these berserkers, and then I would like to, on the thinking cap, cast Conjure Woodland Creatures and conjure eight pixies, and I’d like to put four of them in the Bag of Holding and use four of them to cast Fly on four of the berserkers which then I will cast Animal Shapes on, using my own concentration, to turn them into elephants, and we can go into battle on flying elephants. .... Just let me know if you want to leave me.” I have found my new favourite Emily moment. Jesus Christ. Her getting through that wild plan so businesslike and then “just let me know if you want to leave me” in that defeated tone took me OUT

underrated reason to bring back an old enemy for the finale: he’s the most annoying and everyone hates his guts

“Hardwon, you take a sick 69 psychic damage”

“The actual God looks hurt. She’s upset, I’m upset. But don’t worry, everyone, it is my turn.”

“That brings me down the same way my old man went down.” aka Jake sends the DM into an emotional crisis with a single sentence.

“You briefly fix his deviated septum.” now that’s just cruel

Handy Andy playing a vital role in the final fight makes me so happy, Deadeye helped! Posthumously!

“Hardwon, you struggle, but you get through the words… Table… of… Contents” cause of death: this

“Your god is a pro wrestler” OH MY GOD OF COURSE HE IS. Emily cracked it

“It’s okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in the world, I knew I was only borrowing you.”

Hardwon coming into Shadowfell with unimaginable amounts of dirty laundry: “Moooooooom!”

Hardwon meets his dad :(

Murph really has the “emotionally repressed Dad” routine down pat

“Thank you so much, I sent [the Thinking Cap] through the dry cleaner’s, so it should be all good.” “Dijuana was killed by the dry cleaners.” “You were not supposed to get it wet.” “Yeah, something screamed in there they said, I don’t know.”

Another Jamboreen! And it’s about to probably get cancelled again with another Pebblepot in charge! Time is flat circle

“You see Cran grabs the counsellor, ‘Are you a Pebblepot? You have to tell me if you’re a Pebblepot!!’“

“I cast Conjure Animals and create... what would a dragon eat?” “It would for sure eat like a sheep?” “Oh no, that feels so cruel!” “But you’re creating it, it’s like... it’s a Beyond burger. Beyond Sheep.”

Of course Moonshine accidentally created a Crick dragon

Hardwon gets a fixer-upper in the Crick

I cannot believe Murph managed to pay off that horrendous hotel room scene, and how! Incredible. No notes.

-

This doesn’t strictly go here but if you go on IMDb, everyone but Zac is officially credited with their silly homebrew DM titles. Like Murph is credited as “Direct Messenger (Dungeon Master)”. I discovered this on a very stressful day and it delighted me to no end.

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff. 

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

[fernpost]

Cycle 3 - A Meal

[link to ao3]

[first] - [previous] - [next] 

“Do we not have it?” Lup’s voice, just on the edge of unadulterated panic, filters through the room. It is borderline sweltering, and they’ve been at it all day.

If they don’t have it, it’s all been for naught. Taako bites at his nail, racking his brain, “fuck, do we not?”

Lucretia is sitting across the room, writing down notes from the day before. Her hand stills as she looks up, “it’s missing?”

Lup wipes her brow, before snapping her fingers and dropping to her knees, opening a small cabinet. She digs frantically through what they have, “if it’s not here, there’s none. I’ve looked all over- we honestly should have had it sooner but there was so much to do and-”

Taako steps behind her, hands resting on his hips to feign casualness. Lup adjusts her position and curses as she hits her head. Taako is about to comment, when she gasps.

He is silent as she jolts backwards with a cry, hand held in the air in success, waving it in the air, “we have it!”

Taako pulls it from her grasp, making his way towards the stove. Lup follows close behind, “if we had used the rest of the garlic last week, I would have jumped ship in shame.”

“Can’t make Mama Davenport’s special meat stew without it. Who are we to surprise our great captain with subpar stew.” Taako peels it quickly, cutting it up and tossing it into the pot liberally, firm in his lifelong belief that no recipe can have too little of the perfect allium.

Lucretia smiles as she scribbles in both of her notebooks from the table, “and Taako couldn’t have transmuteted more because…?”

Handing the spoon to Lup, he turns with an affronted gasp, resting his hand dramatically against his chest, “Do you think me a subpar chef?” With a snort, he kneels to peek into the oven, checking the status of the bread they are baking, “but actually, transmuted food is never as good as the real stuff. You can always taste the difference. It’ll do in a pinch, but for the occasion the Taaco’s spare no expense.”

“Ah, of course.” She goes back to her writing, content in listening to the two of them cook more.

After a few more minutes of gentle stirring, Taako sends Lup to grab Barry from the lab, where he’s been pouring over the same notes for a few hours now. Magnus, Merle, and Cap’nport should be back within the next half hour, if the Sending note Taako received is to be believed.

Considering it’s from Merle, who's to say. But preserving the heat of a dish with magic is much easier than making a dish from scratch, so it won’t be the end of the world. Anyways, Taako will give Merle shit either way.

Taako hear’s Lup laugh as she approaches, so he knows she successfully managed to wrangle Barold away from his work. He is already tired of their strange almost-flirting rituals, but it’s nice to see Lup so excited about something, even if it is a nerd like Barry.

(Taako is steadfastly ignoring how much he enjoy’s Barry’s company himself. Or Magnus’s. Or Lucretia’s. Or how comforting it is to talk to Merle. Or how welcoming Davenport always is. It all means nothing. They’re all still his coworkers. He definitely never seeks out their company. He pretends not to think about how the last time he was around the same people this long was his aunt, and he pretends not to think about how that ended. And it never feels bad when they leave on dangerous missions to look for the Light. Never.)

“Lup, the bread!” Taako calls out, pulling the stew from the stove and bringing it over to the table. Lucretia picks her notebooks up, bringing them over to the small sitting room and leaving them on the rickety coffee table (it wasn’t always rickety. Magnus had been trying, apparently, to teach Barry a wrestling move Merle had described to him once. Mending only goes so far). Lup crosses the small kitchen quickly, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter and pulling the bread out. It smells absolutely divine, of course.

Barry hovers near the edge of the kitchen, hands hovering awkwardly in front of him, “can I help-”

“Not after last time, Bluejeans.” Taako places the lid on the stew, turning to the fridge to look for the cider bottles he knows are in there somewhere from a small market they found near the end of the last year.

“Can you grab the plates?” Lup asks as she removes the bread from the tin and begins cutting it. Barry is quick to help, pulling the plates down from the cabinet right next to her (he’s trying so hard to not brush against her, it’s almost sad). Once he has a stack of seven, he pulls out the utensils as well.

Lucretia stiffens from where she has made her way to the window in the sitting room, peering out. “They’re back!”

Barry glances over, almost overbalancing and dropping the silverware as he gets distracted. After he regains control of the plates, he asks, “how do they look?”

“No worse for wear. No one’s limping or missing anything important, at least.” She pauses, and squints, “I think Magnus is a little singed, though.”

“He’ll be fine.” Taako waves it off. The big guy not getting injured would be more surprising.

Lup is bringing the tray with the bread over when the front door opens. Taako places the last cider down before calling out, “oh Captain!”

“We have a surprise for you!” Lup yells.

“What do you-” Davenport pauses, and Taako has cooked enough for the gnome to know he is smelling the air. “Is that stew?” He rounds the corner with the others. He looks tired, thick bags hanging heavy under his eyes.

They were supposed to be gone a week for a recon mission, but Merle sent a message saying they’d be a few days later. About halfway through them being gone, Taako had started digging through the books Davenport brought. One was, for some reason, an old cookbook. It was covered in scribbled writing, and a note left at the beginning detailed how Davenport’s mother gifted it to him when he left for his first job on a ship. One recipe in particular had a sticky note marking it, and Taako had glanced through the recipe. It seemed easy enough, so he brought it to Lup to make.

If she had said anything about him being a sap, he’d deny it. He just enjoyed trying out a new recipe.

“Are we going to eat or just bask in the smell?” Taako sits at his normal seat, not waiting to begin to serve himself. He passes the ladle to Lup, watching as the others join them. Davenport remains standing, only moving when Magnus kicks his chair away from the table, gesturing for him to sit.

The ladle is passed to their captain, who scoops some of the stew and stares at it, “is this…” Davenport looks up at Lup and him, squinting, “did you two go through my cabin?”

An overlap of “no,'' and “Taako did,” answer his question, and Taako quickly slaps Lup on the arm. “Was just looking at your books. You expect me to not read a cookbook you’ve got hidden away?”

Davenport doesn’t answer. He scoops up some of the stew and sips at it, obviously hesitant. It’s quiet in the room, before he smiles, “almost as good as my mom made it.”

A cacophony of mockery aimed at Taako blusters out, his own voice just barely rising above as he defends his honor and abilities.

No one mentions how their captain looks a little misty-eyed. It’s been a long three years.

Later that night, Magnus approaches him and Lup as they play cards in the sitting room, vaguely describing a pie his dad used to make on Candlenights, asking if the two of them thought they could recreate it.

Taako is offended that he believes they can’t.

[vexing-imogen]

the persistence of 2/?

read from the beginning | on ao3

Percy holds his breath, waiting for Vex to react to Pike’s statement. He likes to think he knows his wife well enough to guess at her potential reaction. He’s expecting confusion, shock, fear. A demand for answers. Possibly denial.

He’s not expecting her to laugh.

Vex holds Pike’s gaze for a good thirty seconds before she snorts and dissolves into helpless laughter. “Alright, that’s a pretty good one,” she says, pausing to wipe away tears. “You really had me going for a minute there.” She takes a breath to compose herself. “Did Vax put you up to this?”

“This isn’t a prank, Vex,” Pike says softly.

“Oh, come on,” Vex says, her tone shifting from humor to exasperation. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?”

Scanlan shifts uncomfortably. “Do you really think we’d lie to you about something like this?”

Her response is immediate. “Yes.”

“Okay, fair,” he relents. “This does sound like something I might have pulled back in the day. But do you really believe that Pike would go along with it? Or Keyleth, or Percy?”

“Hey, what about me?” Grog protests.

“You would,” they all chorus.

Vex goes quiet, her eyes flicking from person to person. Percy can see the change in her expression, in her posture as she takes them all in. He sees the moment where she shifts from annoyed confidence to genuine fear.

“Prove it,” she finally says, her voice catching.

Keyleth frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Prove it,” Vex repeats. “If you’re really not fucking with me, tell me something that you’ve learned about me in the past five years. Something that you couldn’t possibly have learned from my brother.”

“You’ve showed me your titties,” Grog offers before anyone can stop him.

Vex’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. Percy and Scanlan audibly sigh, while Pike facepalms.

“That’s not...really what she meant, Grog,” Keyleth stutters.

“It’s the truth, though,” he says. “And it ain’t like Vax could-”

“Okay, technically, you’re right,” Keyleth interrupts. “I mean, at this point, I think we’ve all seen them in some capacity.”

“I beg your fucking pardon,” Vex says, and Percy might have laughed if he weren’t completely freaking out.

“Not in, like, a creepy way or anything,” Keyleth defends. “You’re just naked. A lot. Sometimes. They’re really nice?” She turns to Percy. “Help me.”

He closes his eyes and thinks. Remembers a conversation had in bed one night, shortly after she’d earned her title of Grand Mistress. The way she couldn’t face him until after she’d told her tale. The tears she’d tried to pretend weren’t falling.

“Trinket,” he says, and her eyes snap to him, her gaze intense. “You once told me the full story of how you acquired Trinket.”

She swallows hard, her eyes darting around the rest of their friends, all of whom are watching him intently. If they’ve heard any of this story, it’s bits and pieces. He suspects he’s the only person she’s ever told the whole truth, that there are details she chose to hide even from Vax.

“Leaving out the bits that you asked me to never speak of,” he starts, “you were kidnapped by poachers. Trinket and his mother were also prisoners. You couldn’t save her, so you took him to raise as your own.”

His heart breaks just a little more when she turns away from him, a single tear falling down her cheek. She gives a tight nod.

Scanlan clears his throat after a minute. “Well, now that we’re acknowledging that this has happened.” He looks to Vex for confirmation, who nods again, sniffling. “I think the big question here is how did this happen? And how do we fix it?”

“I’d like to know that, myself,” Vex agrees, deceptively calm. “I’m guessing I got knocked out, somehow, since I woke up on the ground, but obviously I don’t remember how that happened.”

“We were getting ready to all go home after spending the weekend in Emon together,” Pike says. “We were saying our goodbyes when we got ambushed. It was a pretty easy fight, we scared most of them off pretty fast, But their mage hit you with a spell that I didn’t recognize. It sent you flying, and you hit a tree and were out cold.”

“Did anyone recognize the spell?” Percy asks. “Keyleth? Scanlan?”

Keyleth shakes her head, and Scanlan shrugs. “It could have been Modify Memory?” the gnome guesses. “I don’t know, I’m the worst person to ask about this stuff.”

“We could just ask the mage,” Keyleth suggests. “Can’t you speak with the dead, Pike?”

“Well, I could,” Pike says, “if Grog hadn’t turned the guy’s head into putty.”

“Sorry.”

“Regardless, Pikey, you were able to fix Grog and Percy when they lost their memories of the Feywild,” Scanlan says. “Couldn’t you just do...whatever you did then?”

Percy nods. “That’s right. Greater Restoration, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Pike agrees. “But I kind of used up all of my high level spells for today. Keyleth can do it though, right?”

Keyleth winces. “I...don’t have Greater Restoration prepared today?” She huffs a sigh at their disbelieving looks. “I didn’t think I’d need it, okay!”

Pike sighs. “I guess we just all go to Whitestone, and try it in the morning.” She turns to Vex. “Is that okay?”

Vex gives her a weak smile. “I guess it has to be.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Um. You still haven’t said.” She sighs. “Where’s Vax?”

There’s an unspoken agreement in the moment that their eyes all meet. Lie. 

“He’s not with us right now,” Keyleth says carefully.

Vex frowns. “Why not?”

“He’s working for his goddess at the moment,” Scanlan says. “He became a follower of the Raven Queen a few years ago, and then her champion.”

“He’s on a vision quest,” Pike adds. “He had this dream, about a week ago, and he just...left. Said it was a solo mission. And we don’t really have any way to contact him.”

Vex presses her fingers to her temples. “My brother. Is the champion of a goddess?” She lets out a shaky breath. “I think I need a minute. Or ten.”

They retreat to the other side of the clearing, and Keyleth’s hand is on Percy’s arm the moment they’re out of earshot.

“Hey, how are you doing right now?”

He sighs. “I am having about three separate panic attacks, but other than that...” He gestures at Vex helplessly. “What do I do, Keyleth? How do I help her?”

She shrugs. “What are you going to tell her about, you know, the two of you?”

“How do I not tell her everything?” he asks. “She’ll see it all once we get to Whitestone. The house, and her title, and gods Vesper.” He scrubs at his face. “I don’t want to overwhelm her, she barely trusts what we’re saying as it is, but I’m not going to let her hurt our daughter because she doesn’t remember that she exists.”

Keyleth tries to smile. “I know this sucks, but we’ll figure this out. We always do, right?”

They all sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, occasionally glancing over at Vex, who hasn’t moved. Eventually the silence is broken by Vex’s voice, tentatively coming through the earrings.

“Um, Percy, if you can hear me, I think you and I need to talk?”

============================================================

She watches Percy freeze in place for a moment before he stands. Pike says something that her lip reading doesn’t catch, and he nods. He doesn’t look at her as he crosses the clearing, his eyes fixated on a spot just above her head. He doesn’t look at her until he’s sitting down in front of her, his expression unreadable.

“Hi,” she says softly. “I wanted to start by saying I’m sorry for slapping you.”

He shakes his head. “Vex’ahlia, you don’t...given the context of the situation, you have nothing to apologize for.”

She shrugs. “I’m still sorry.” She looks down at her hands. “I also have some questions that I think only you can really answer.”

“Ask away.”

Vex sighs. “Are we...married?” she starts. “I only ask because you did kiss me, and everyone looked at me funny when I said that we weren’t, and I’m wearing this ring-”

He takes her left hand in his, rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “Yes,” he confirms. “Yes, you and I are married.”

“How long?”

He thinks for a moment. “Oh gods,” he mutters. “Not quite four years.”

“Oh.” Fuck, that’s longer than she was expecting. “Do we. Um.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Dowehaveanychildren?”

He squeezes the hand he’s holding, nods. She gasps, feels as though all of the breath has been punched out of her.

“A little girl,” he offers after a moment. “Vesper Elaina, after my sister and your mother.”

She doesn’t try to stop the tears from falling. “How old?”

“Three,” he says with a small smile. “Just barely.”

“Fuck.” She wipes away tears with her free hand. “Pike mentioned a place. Whitestone? Is that...”

Percy nods. “That would be home,” he says. “The de Rolo family, my family, has ruled there for generations. Still do, in a fashion.” He smiles again. “You’re technically a Lady.”

“Huh.”  She sighs. “One more question.” He nods. “Has Grog really seen my tits?”

He almost laughs. “You have flashed him on more than one occasion.”

She snorts. “Yeah, that does sound like something I would do.”

She loses track of how long they sit together, her hand in his, neither of them looking at the other. Their bubble is only broken when Keyleth approaches, twisting her hands.

“Hey guys,” she says. “Um, we were just talking about how we should probably get going soon. It’s getting late, which means it’s probably really late in Whitestone, and Cass will probably get worried if you guys aren’t home soon.”

“My sister,” Percy mouths when Vex glances at him. “You’re probably right,” he says to Keyleth. He stands, offering Vex a hand.

The world tilts and her vision blurs as Percy helps her to her feet. She’s back on her knees in an instant, and this time she actually does vomit. “I think,” she manages, breathing deep, “I think I might have a concussion.”

“All the more reason for us to get you home and resting,” Percy says, rubbing her back. One arm goes around her waist, and she realizes his intent as he asks, “May I?”

She nods, keeps her eyes closed as he gathers her in his arms and stands. It helps with the nausea, but the pounding headache has returned, and she thinks she may have to ask Pike for another heal soon.

Vex hears, rather than sees, everyone gather around them. She briefly wonders exactly how they’re going to get where they’re going, but before she can ask, there’s a tearing sound just in front of them. She opens her eyes to see Keyleth opening a portal in one of the larger trees. There’s a city on the other side, and she doesn’t have time to ask before Percy is hurrying through.

It’s cooler on the other side of the portal, the sun is setting. They’ve apparently crossed the continent in mere seconds.

“What the fuck was that?” Vex asks weakly.

“Ohh, right,” Keyleth says, “I forgot you wouldn’t know about that. That’s how we travel for the most part. As long as I know of a tree in any given place, I can get us there.” She pats the trunk of the enormous tree they just stepped out of. “Hi, Sun Tree.”

“She always does that,” Percy murmurs in her ear. She feels his chest move with a sigh as she takes in the city square around her. “Welcome to Whitestone.”

[sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shelby]

Possibly my most epic DnD session yet! (now with sloppy illustrations!)

****Late-game spoilers for Hoard of the Dragon Queen****

I play as Killian Lyle. Level 6 human fighter, eldritch knight, lawful good. +4 str, con. -2 cha. You know the type.

Others in the party are: Rat-Rat, the forest gnome druid. Syrris, the wood-elf rogue. Montagor, the half-elf bard.

So, the last thing Killian did the session before was reenter a tavern our party got kicked out of and try to bribe the tavern keeper to help us get past some baddies. Big tough-looking tavern keeper grabs his weapon. *Roll initiative* End of session.

In Killian’s hands were a shield and a loaf of bread he had recently been served in that tavern. He was alone, the rest of his party discussing plans outside. We all rolled initiative, but only Killian was aware there was going to be combat so far. A couple of the party members got to go first. Basically just wandered town square, taking in surroundings. There are a whole bunch enemy guards nearby, watching, but not picking a fight with the group. 

Killian’s turn. He steps forward and tries to FORCE THE LOAF OF BREAD INTO THE GUYS MOUTH to catch him off-guard and maybe keep him quiet for a second. SMASHING SUCCESS! Guy is unable to stop me from jamming those carbs down his throat and drops his weapon. I bonus action my sword to my hand.

Tavern-keeper’s turn. DM has the guy do a con save to make sure he doesn’t CHOKE TO DEATH AND DIE!  *shit, shit, I didn’t want to kill him!!!* Luckily he saves and is able to clear his airway of bread. He starts swinging fists and misses.

Keep going in initiative order. Guest calls out “HES FIGHTING THE BARTENDER!” Most guests at the tavern flee upstairs, but 2 pull daggers and join in. Montagor the bard hears some commotion and opens the door to see Killian shoving bread down the tavern-keeper’s throat and other people moving in with weapon’s drawn. Tries playing the bagpipes nice and loud for extra diversion, but nat 1′s and pops the bag. Syrris the rogue comes in and starts quietly and *permanently* eliminating anyone attacking with a weapon. Killian tries multiple times to thunk the tavern-keeper on the head with the hilt of his sword well enough to knock him out, but the dude keeps fighting. Poor guy can’t make a single hit though. 

This fight’s going longer than Killian was hoping. He tries a different tactic: INTIMIDATE. Another smashing success. Like a 19 or something, since intimidate is his one charisma-based skill that doesn’t get a negative modifier. BARTENDER GETS A NAT 1! Surrenders. Killian backs off just before the Captain of the group of enemies walks in.

“WHAT”S GOING ON IN HERE!?”

Killian gambles on deception. NAT 20 “Some guys were fighting the tavern-keeper. We helped. They’re dead now.”

Intimidated tavern-keeper nods, says they were going to rob him.

Enemy captain thanks us for protecting his friend and leaves. WOW, DODGED A BULLET THERE!

We head out too, Killian dropping a couple of gold coins for the tavern-keeper as he heads out, and start looking for a good way to get past the guards. We’re trying to get into a GIANT ICE CASTLE that’s about to FLY AWAY. Time’s running out. I’m not sneaky, but we’re about to give it a try, see if our amazing rolls continue. We decide to peek in the giant stable that had HUGE REPTILIAN GROWLS coming from it. This would either be really bad or really good for us. 

Really good! Tied-up wyverns along one wall, riding harnesses on the other. The ice castle begins to take off. Guess we’re doing this! We smell the stink of meat from a nearby building. The rogue is unable to carry a full pig carcass herself. Killian goes to help. NAT 20! Throws a pig over one shoulder, and a sheep over the other and marches off toward the wyverns. Killian has crap animal handling skills, but Rat-Rat the druid doesn’t. Killian keeps the things distracted with bites of meat, Rat-Rat puts the harnesses on them with great success. We climb on, again without incident. And Rat-Rat is apparently a natural-born dragon-rider because he came up with an incredible plan that worked without a hitch. 

Minor-illusion the image of a fat turkey, flying just out of reach of the wyvern. Bard prestidigitation’s the smell of juicy meat coming off the “turkey”. Wyverns were eager to follow. Probably more complicated than it needed to be, but hey, it has pizzazz!

We are able to catch up to the ice castle and land they wyverns near another stable that they seemed trained to fly to. Looking around, ogres and kobolds seem to pay us no mind. Guess randos flying in on the backs of dragon things is a normal sight around here. But as it starts getting dark, creatures seem to hurry their tasks and make their way indoors. We figure we’d better do so as well. Quietly enter the first door we approach. Amazingly, nobody’s there. Not out and about anyway. There’s a comfortably furnished room right when we walk through the door, but we decide to keep exploring. Rat-Rat casts detect magic. The comfortable room has an illusory wall to an outside platform, but nothing else of note. 

We hear a familiar voice arguing with another voice in another room. A wizard we’d rather not exchange blows with if we can help it. Luckily, according to the DM’s dice rolls, they notice nothing.

Then, further down the hall we heard another familiar voice. Rezmir, the dragonborn cult leader we’ve been tracking for MONTHS. Basically in the first spot we look. Wow, really? And none of us are hurt. Most of us have all of our spell slots and other abilities still available to us. Could this be more perfect? Rat-Rat does see a bit of magic in the room in the last moments before his spell times out, but that’s to be expected, right?

There is a lock.“It looks much more complicated than any lock you’ve encountered before”, the DM tells us. But our rogue is pretty skilled in her arts. She decides to give it a try. 

“With my modifier that was a 30.″ Huh. What luck. DM said later that was a DC 25 lock. 

Rezmir was inside, sitting on her bed in her pajamas, just loving on her doggos. I mean attack drakes. Not paying us any mind whatsoever. *roll initiative*

Syrris goes first. Perfect opportunity for an assassination with her poison dagger and all those extra dice rolls she gets in just this sort of situation. She steps into the room and is SNATCHED UP AND HELD DOWN BY A SENTIENT AREA RUG! I should’ve drawn this part too because I can’t help but imagine the magic carpet from Aladdin wrestling the elf.

Anyway, fighting then ensues. Attack drakes come running, keeping the rest of the party besides the rogue out in the hall. Rezmir starts out unarmed, and shoots off a scary-looking spell at our bard. It misses and melts the wall behind him. Thank goodness it missed. Rogue takes 2 turns escaping the rug, Rezmir runs for her sword across the room. Rat-Rat’s moonbeaming Rezmir rather successfully. Killian and the Montagor are mostly in melee with the drakes, but Killian did start with a firebolt to Rezmir’s face. This fight hurts, both sides taking plenty of damage.

The rogue is taking the brunt of the damage trapped inside the bedroom with the dragonborn and that mean magic carpet. She takes it like a champ, but there’s a turn for the worse when she’s ready for healing. The bard’s starts coming to her aid, and she takes more damage, this time from the sword. Healing has no effect from that point.... The sword did something to stop her from regaining hit points, and after the significant damage from its blade, that’s bad news.

Bard and Rogue get caught in a breath attack, and the rogue goes down. Killian and Rat-Rat are still outside of the room, Killian around a corner and can’t actually see Rezmir from where he’s at. Shit. We still have one drake remaining. Killian tries his best with two attacks to eliminate it, but does min damage on both and it remains standing. Fuck it. Time for an Action Surge. Moves past the drake to where he’s in melee with Rezmir herself, stepping out from around the corner. Double attack again. Hits on both. NAT 20 ON THE SECOND! 

“How did it happen?”, the DM asks. I’m floored that I managed to down her in that hit.

“Killian steps around the corner, swinging his sword to where her saw the breath attack originate, slicing through her pajamas into the scales beneath. He then makes eye contact with her and sees the recognition in her face as she looks his way in surprise, even as he’s pulling back his sword for a second strike. Killian lunges full-force, plunging the sword right through her before she has the chance to react.”

“FOOLS!”, she cries out with her final breath as she disintegrates into ash, her sword and a couple of keys clanging to the floor where she had stood. Simultaneously an ornate chest in the far corner of the room violently explodes, destroying anything that might’ve been inside.

We rush to the Syrris, and Rat-Rat stabilizes her. Killian places her on the bed to rest. Then eyes turn toward the items Rezmir left behind. Killian voices that the rogue won’t be pleased to see the chest exploded when she regains consciousness, but doesn’t personally care much that the loot is no more. The party uses one of the keys in the pile of ash that was Rezmir to relock the room so they can use the comfortable chamber for a night of recuperation before continuing venturing back into the castle.

“Killian, I think you’re the only one of us that could wield that sword.”, Rat-Rat squeaks, pointing to the one remaining object on the ground.

The sword is jagged and black with a purple crystal in the hilt. Something about it makes Killian uneasy.

Killian replies, “A greatsword... Doesn’t really suit my fighting style. But it seems a powerful blade. ” Then he picks it up off the floor feeling powerful magic coursing through it, and hears a voice in his head.

“Hello”, the sword whispers, darkly. “You enjoyed that kill, didn’t you.”

Oh man, having my lawful good, magic fanatic, fighter boy weigh the benefits of wielding a legendary magical sword of untold power, against the moral drawback of it being intelligent and EVIL is going to be a wild ride. He has attuned to it, and we’ll see where this takes us. 

I’m still reeling from all the amazing things that happened in this session. What a day for Killian in particular. 

[demauryss]

they call it reckless love | 4.3 k

lately, lucas has been acting like a lost puppy, all cute and adorable, making eliott ache with the dire need of kissing him senseless - and inevitably loosing the bet.

but eliott isn't anything if not resilient.

or, you do stupid stuff for the ones you love

ao3

**

it begins on a friday.

it's lucas's turn to wash the dishes. eliott sits by the small fire in the living room, reading something by t s eliot. lucas can see the back of his head peeking over the couch whenever he pokes his head in the living room to let eliott know how cold the water is or how his fingers have turned purple or how he can't even feel his hands anymore.

"you're just a baby," eliott says every time, without taking his eyes off the book, and it only makes lucas huff out in annoyance (but also love for his endearing boyfriend) - and without much ado, lucas turns back to the kitchen, grudgingly bringing his hands under the stream of the deathly cold water.  

eliott will warm them up later, and then he'll see.

"eliott?" he calls out loudly, and waits for eliott's socked feet to move against the floor. moments later there's another person behind him, reaching into the cupboard above lucas's head to take out two cups. his hip bump lucas's, and the smaller boy lets out a giggle.

"what if we get a dishwasher as a christmas present for me?" and as he says this, lucas tries to widen his eyes as much as he can, so eliott will feel pressured to say yes. eliott stops filling the kettle with water to look at him, takes a minute long look at his eyes, grins widely, and then as if to say what has he gotten himself into, shakes his head.

"lucas, we're not getting a dishwasher. they've scared me for eternity."

lucas huffs out, shaking the water and the soap from his hands before perching them up on his waist to appear threatening, which has the same effect as a gnome standing with a spoon, "eliott, that dishwasher hadn't been used in years! plus, we don't even have spiders in our home, how will they get inside it?"

but eliott sighs, places the switch of the kettle in the socket. then he turns to lucas, eyes wide like lucas had been trying to achieve, "you never know, lucas."

it's another failed agreement, and he really loves eliott, so lucas gives in. tonight, he does.

**

that night lucas sees a spider crawling up the wall in the bathroom in front of him. eliott, though frozen with fear, somehow lets the spider out from the window. and then with the determination of isaac newton determining gravity, turns to lucas, who's hidden himself behind eliott's tall frame.

"see that was what i was talking about," eliott grins, fear all gone. lucas only splashes him with water- a little water.

**

it's friday again, and eliott's doing the dishes. he hums a quite tune to himself as lucas makes both of them hot chocolate. the winter has increased in intensity, and lucas can see precipitation in the windows whenever it starts to get dark. 

eliott then leads them to the fire place, and the both sit with their backs against the couch and their legs intertwined. lucas finds a way to rest his head on eliott's chest, the quiet beat of his heart offering a nice melody to lucas's ears for falling asleep.

flames heat around him, and he nearly does fall asleep before eliott's voice yank him out of the darkness settling around him.

"baby?" eliott's lips brush the top of his head, muffled by lucas's hair and the flames licking up the wood in front of them. lucas hums quietly without opening his eyes, nuzzling his face in the crook of eliott's arms wrapped around a little under lucas's neck.

lucas places a small kiss there.

"remember when we went shopping for christmas presents and i wandered off for some time?" lucas nods in affirmation, eliott continues, "i came across an  echo, and baby, can we please get it as a christmas present for me?"

and that statement is highly familiar. lucas pops open one eye, and then the other. eliott's looking at him with the same look lucas uses to get him to agree to stuff. lucas sits up, now separated from eliott, and fixes him with a certain look.

"those things are really creepy eliott. i- i'm scared of them like you're scared of the dishwasher."

and it has eliott's ears turning, his mouth set in a line in determination, "okay, then what if we make a deal?"

lucas turns, confused, "a deal?"

"yes, a deal but more like a bet. if you win we'll get a dishwasher, and if i win, i'll get an echo. sounds good?"

that's promising, so lucas nods, "okay, what are the rules then?"

and eliott - that giraffe smirks like he's come with a plan to defeat thanos. he leans in closer to lucas, and lucas sees the wicked glint in eliott's eyes. and by experience lucas knows it's never good.

"no kissing each other for three days. whoever gives in, loses."

that fucker. lucas almost makes a sound of protest. it's unfair, because lucas can't resist eliott, let alone restrain himself for kissing him. it's unfair because eliott knows it.

"and that includes touching as well. no hugging, no kissing, anywhere."

eliott smirks, because he knows lucas is actually a koala who needs to be touching eliott in some way to function through the day. he has troubles in his classes being away from eliott, can't go one hour without kissing him. how is he supposed to spend seventy-two hours without getting a hug or kiss from eliott?

but the prospect of the dishwasher and saving his fingers from numbing cold sounds too good to refuse. and besides, he can make up for the kisses later.

so lucas being the absolute shit he is, agrees.

"i agree to your terms, monsieur demaury."

eliott's eyebrows shoot up when he sees lucas isn't backing down, "you're sure? do you think you can make it through three days without any contact with me?"

eliott grins, a wicked glint to his eyes, mouth suddenly inviting to lucas. he shakes his head, grinning up at eliott, "i will, thank you. besides, you aren't any special, eliott. get over yourself."

eliott's grin widens, if it's any possible. lucas can see the flickering shadows of the flames in the fire place dancing on eliott's face, and lucas curls his hands in fists. he has a bet to win.

"in that case, it's on, monsieur lallemant."

**

that night, lucas builds a wall of pillows between them as they turn to bed. eliott laughs loudly when he sees lucas's body laid at the farthest corner of the bed, back towards eliott.

"you sure you won't get cold?" eliott asks, smile evident in his voice, "we can cuddle if you want. i know how much you love cuddling me."

it's true to the ultimate degree, lucas loves eliott's cuddles. but tonight, he isn't giving in. and neither he is letting eliott have the satisfaction, "i love you eliott, but please, fuck off."

lucas's voice is muffled by the pillow he's using as a makeshift eliott, though it isn't as warm as him. he has a bet to win, and an eliott to prove marginally wrong. eliott's laughing again, turning off the lamp by his bed, "i love you too, baby."

**

on saturday, eliott wakes up cold and with no arms around his waist or small puffs of air warming up his backside. light streams in through the curtains lucas must have kept open. and when eliott turns around, there's even no lucas peering up at him behind the pillow wall between them too.

eliott shakes his head, feet touching the cold floor as he makes his way over to the kitchen. lucas sits there, sipping his tea, light dancing on his skin in golden circles.

"good morning," he chirps brightly, looking up at eliott, the blue of his eyes more prominent under the stream of light falling in through the  window in the kitchen, "did you sleep well?"

and lucas.....he looks quite happy for someone who just woke up without any cuddles or kisses. eliott knows it has something to do with the way eliott kisses lucas the first thing in the morning, and how eliott's sappy ass has let slip countless times that it comforts him knowing lucas is still there, and the same lucas is now using his weakness against him - in a way that lucas knows eliott can't resist him too.

eliott nods, a smile pulling up. it's convincing enough, for lucas momentarily glances down at eliott's lips. score.

"good." lucas stands up, only in his shirt and boxers which are hidden by the hem of the shirt. it seems to taunt eliott when lucas walks to where he's standing, "i made you tea. now, i'm gonna go shower."

and lucas stretches when he's just near eliott. his shirt rides up, exposing his waist and the low dip his hips make before disappearing under his boxers. eliott's eyes follow the line of the skin exposed, before he quickly snaps them up to look at lucas, who isn't looking at him, but a smirk is playing on his lips nonetheless.

that little shit.

lucas saunters away, an extra sway to his hips. eliott watches the cup of tea placed at the shelf, now cold as the realization of what he's gotten himself into runs through his blood.

hopefully his own plan won't bite him in the ass. hopefully.

**

 @ shut Up basile

yann: you guys up for a game night?

bas: if you're promising food and alcohol, then sure, i'm in

arthur: of course yann

lucas: i don't feel like it boys

yann: whyyy? you can bring eliott. we promise we won't complain if all you do is be all gross and cute

lucas: .......

lucas: eliott and i made a bet

bas: a bet?

lucas: yes. a way to decide what we're gonna get for christmas 

arthur: ???

yann: stop being vague you idiot

lucas: you see, i wanted a dishwasher, eliott wanted an echo. so we decided whoever hugs or kisses the other first loses

yann: damn.... how the hell are you holding up?

bas: ^ yeah we know you need to be attached to eliott's back to function

lucas: shut up you guys. just wait and see, i'm gonna win

arthur: ....in your sleep, you forgot in your sleep

lucas has left the chat

yann: but what about the game night?

**

lucas works on the assignment he's got to complete during the break. he has finished half of them when there's a commotion outside, and eliott's curses fill the silent air lucas has gotten used to.

"what happened?"

he calls from the couch, craning his neck to watch eliott coming out of the kitchen. he's making lunch, since they both stay in on saturdays. eliott emerges out, holding his thumb up for lucas to see.

"i had an accident."

lucas walks over to eliott, a thin line of blood gathered on the tip of eliott's thumb. eliott grimaces, and lucas knows it's because he feels dizzy even at the sight of blood. eliott's lips turn downwards, a pout coming to rest over them, "will you kiss it better?"

lucas steps forward, bringing his hands up -  then, and then he understands eliott's strategy, "eliott you dipshit!" he shouts, faux angry and bemused, "is this even real blood or ketchup?"

lucas grumbles, walking into the kitchen. eliott follows suit, "it's really a cut baby, i swear. i wanted to use it to my advantage, that's it."

lucas takes out the first aid kit, slamming on the kitchen counter. "well, you fail. i'm not giving in just yet."

and eliott smiles, eyes crinkled, laugh lines prominent, "i know, baby."

**

that night, lucas makes the dinner. eliott puts up a black and white movie which they both watch in silence. it isn't unusual, the silence which surrounds them. the only difference is the lack of touching bodies and their wandering hands and sloppy kisses. but it's fine. because lucas isn't backing down. and neither is eliott.

there's a wall of pillow again waiting  for eliott when he comes out of the bedroom. he smiles, mutters a quiet good night before turning off the light and laying down on his side of the bed. 

(and if, at some hour after midnight, one of them does feel hands crawling around his waist and legs intertwining with his own, he doesn't say anything.)

**

it's sunday when chaos ensues.  

eliott awakes again with no warmth around him. but this time he's determined to establish the upper hand. he goes out to see lucas watching some documentary about apes on the tv, and when he turns towards him, there's a glint to his eyes that was never there before.

"good morning," eliott's voice is hoarse but sweet, inviting even. lucas glances down momentarily, then nods before smiling and turning towards the tv. eliott takes steps before he's sitting beside lucas, hands itching with a feeling he's learning to control, heart beating unbelievably fast. it's as if they've reverted back to the time before they started dating, when there were too many lingering glances and quiet moments and amidst of it all, the pressing need to be close to each other.

eliott knows it's the time for the withdrawal to kick in.

lucas gets up from the couch, fixing the hoodie which slips from his shoulder. eliott takes a look. lucas is in a hoodie eliott has a vague memory of being his, before he gave it to lucas and never got it back when they hadn't moved in together.

now the hoodie rests limply against lucas's small body, sleeves bunched up at the wrists, the material swallowing all of lucas with the way it's so big on him.

eliott makes a strange noise in his throat which gets lucas's attention.  he turns around to see the taller boy, hands curled in fists due to the pain of resisting, mouth set in a thin line.

"you're so fucking stubborn, lucas," eliott grumbles, "this bet is gonna be the death of me."

lucas only grins sleepily, arms wrapping around his own body, "you should have thought about it before, eliott. it's your fault that i'm doing this."

eliott feels his stomach in knots. it's either his sanity or the echo. lately, lucas has been acting like a lost puppy, all cute and adorable, making eliott ache with the dire need of kissing him senseless - and inevitably loosing the bet.

but eliott isn't anything if not resilient.

"now stop brooding," lucas says, turning towards their room, "we promised to have breakfast with the boys."

**

it's close to eleven when they reach the cafe. they are ten minutes late, thanks to eliott's slow ass and his need to have his hair perfect with gross amount of gel in it.

"hope your hair's ready to receive the shit the boys are gonna give us." lucas grumbles, reminding eliott of the umpteenth time why they had gotten late. he can see basile's curly hair when they enter the cafe, the aroma of chocolate and freshly ground coffee beans doing little to calm him down. he's gotten quite agitated and frustrated keeping up with his persona of not being bothered by eliott into kissing him when he does useless cute shit - like poke his tongue out between his lips when he's concentrating, or the endearing shoulder shrug thing, like he does now when they reach the booth and the boys shout, exasperated.

"finally," basile sighs, picking up the menu and giving it a read, "i was certain you guys were in an alley sucking each other's faces off."

and eliott turns to lucas, smiling ear to ear, "that's a nice proposition, don't you think?"

lucas rolls his eyes, sliding in the booth next to yann. he has warned the guys earlier for not letting eliott know that they knew about the bet. eliott slides in next to him, keeping a safe distance, but not safe enough for lucas can still feel the heat radiating from his body. 

one day, lucas reminds himself, only a little over a day is left. lucas can control himself.

the air gets filled with the chatter from the boys as they eat their breakfast. lucas orders pancakes. eliott's fancy ass orders blueberry and cinnamon toast. they joke around, frequently reminding basile to shut his mouth while eating.

lucas takes his time to think over things. the bet. is the dishwasher more important than the wellbeing of his heart? because he knows if he goes a little more without touching eliott in any way he would literally explode like a balloon filled with too much air. 

and eliott, he seems barely affected while lucas is losing his mind. there was a moment this morning when lucas had purposely worn his hoodie, and when he thought eliott might cave in. but he's been awfully neutral after that, and even before that. for a person as tactile as eliott, lucas wonders how he's holding up. how is his control not withering away.

but then he thinks he's got more self control than lucas gives him credit for.

and then it's hardly subtle, but lucas feels eliott's leg against his, thighs touching together. lucas takes a long gulp of his tea, looking at eliott from the corner of his eye to see him immersed in a debate with arthur. 

his skin starts burning from where it's pressed up against eliott's, tingles shooting up the entire area. his touch deprived self chooses the exact moment to remind him how much he's missed eliott's touch these past few days.

it's probable that he might win the bet. but it's fucking definite that he'll lose his brain in the process.

**

"how's the bet?" yann asks when they're taking a walk in the park. arthur, basile and eliott are playing football with some high school kids, and lucas sits, watching the boys play around, before yann pulls him away for an episode of a weekly therapy session with cazas.

"horrible," lucas says, playing with a stone in the path with his shoes.

"did you lose already?"

"no, not that horrible." lucas shakes his head, "i'm just - sometimes i wonder whether a dishwasher and an echo worth worth all of this torture. but then i think - of fucking course it is. eliott's a competitive dweeb, and it's proving a lot harder to get him to give in."

yann shakes his head at lucas's stupidity, hurling a stone in the lake where a flock of birds has gathered to drink water, "you're a dumbass."

"i know," lucas sighs, "but it's been helpful for a change. you see, i used to be attached to eliott's hip all the time. i've made sense of this only now, and i don't know whether eliott thinks this or not, but i feel i was suffocating him. he needs his space too, you know. so this bet has also helped me realize the importance of space in a relationship."

yann wipes an invisible tear from his eyes, "my lulu has grown up. but seriously, it's good that you're realizing the important stuff concerning a relationship. and if you ask me, i don't think you can suffocate him, ever. he loves you so much it's impossible he'll ever get tired of you. and you do stupid stuff for the ones you love, i'm sure eliott's the same."

lucas ponders for a minute, hands ripping a wisp of brown grass and tearing it in half. lucas remembers eliott waking up with him at ungodly hours whenever he falls sick; always making sure he's had a proper lunch whenever eliott's busy during the day and can't make it out of class; making lucas tea without him asking to; always knowing when to push lucas to tell what's bothering him and when to step aside and give lucas space till he's ready to talk.

"i'm fucked yann," lucas groans, head falling into his hands, "come on, i've got some stupid stuff to do for the person i love."

yann grins from ear to ear, and within a minute he's said goodbye to the three grown ups acting like kids, yann making an excuse for lucas's sake that he's got to help yann shopping for presents, just so eliott won't suspect a thing.

"no goodbye kiss?" eliott asks, all soft and cuddly. lucas has to physically stop himself from attacking eliott, thinking soon and flipping eliott off, "not yet, but i love you."

eliott mouths the words back with a baby at the end, knowing how crazy lucas gets hearing that name. yann drags lucas away from the park, and with the determination eliott had shown while making the bet, lucas draws away the money he swore he was never going to need, lets yann drags him some more, and comes home with a package not worth than staying away from eliott.

**

eliott's lighting up a candle when the door opens and shuts close. he hears some ruffling, probably lucas taking away his shoes and jacket.

"eliott you home?"

"in here," eliott calls from the living room, a table with food set in the middle, a candle the only source of light in the dim living room. it's about six, night has already fallen outside. lucas walks into the living room, and eliott has to strain his eyes to look properly.

"what's all of this?" lucas's voice is small as eliott walks over to him standing at the entrance. eliott's stomach turns in knots, "a little surprise for you."

and it's when he turns on the flashlight on his phone that he really sees lucas holding a wrapped box. "did yann give you that?"

lucas had gone shopping with yann, so it seems fitting that he comes home with a present from him. but lucas shakes his head rapidly, looking down for a moment before meeting eliott's eyes.

"a little surprise for you, too."

eliott's confused, but he takes the package from lucas's hands. they walk over to the table eliott's set up, the food all inviting. it pulls a thought in lucas's mind that he voices out, "did you make all of this?"

"arthur and bas helped," eliott grins before plopping down and tearing open the package. what little resolve eliott's left with melts like the fucking candle lit up in front of him.

"lucas..." there's something caught in his throat, a tremor in his hands. he carefully takes the echo out of the box it's placed in, the small sphere resting against his hands, "what-"

"i love you," lucas beats him, "and i fear i might combust if we'd keep this bet on for another day."

eliott, still shocked, rounds the table and takes lucas to the floor with him, the smaller boy's giggles dying down as soon as eliott's lips cover lucas's. eliott doesn't know who sighs first, him or lucas, but he knows the way his heart starts plummeting that it's fucking time.

lucas pulls at his hair, fingers buried in the long strands which still have a bit of gel left in them. lucas bites at eliott's lips, nose nudging against his. eliott knows he's making for the two days they spent in pure agony, but eliott has a think to ask and do first.

he pulls away as lucas lets out a whine, using his hands to pull eliott back. he laughs, placing a chaste kiss on lucas's lips, hands on both sides of lucas's head to support himself up, "what changed your mind?"

lucas plays with a strand of eliott's hair, eyes wide and blue, "i had yann try out his therapy skills on me. and- and even before that, you won."

eliott's eyebrows shoot up, "how did i win?"

lucas turns red. it's too dark to see, but eliott knows he does for the way he closes his eyes and a shy smile appears on his lips, "it was cold - i was cold last night and i snuggled into you?"

it comes out as a question, a slight giggle at the end. eliott's heart skips a beat. he leans down to bite playfully at lucas's lips, "so if yann hadn't talked to you, were you going to cheat your way through this bet?"

lucas laughs, hitting eliott's chest, "shut up! i know that you were awake."

and eliott has to stop from flinging himself on lucas. he still has a thing to do first. eliott buries his face in lucas's neck, biting gently. lucas sighs, wrapping his hands around eliott's neck, one resting on his face.

"i've got you something too. come with me."

eliott takes lucas's hand, leading him to the kitchen, where, sure enough, a small dishwasher stands under the shelf. eliott feels his hand getting squeezed, he squeezes back. 

if lucas calls him an idiot, it doesn't stop him from wrapping his arms around lucas's waist, bending down enough to catch his lips with his own. lucas now tastes distinctly of a faraway dream eliott had as a child, of sunshine and sweetness. 

lucas demands entrance to eliott's mouth, which he gives readily. there's no deadline now, as their dinner gets cold but their hunger gets satisfied by languid kisses and wandering hands.

and if eliott whines about lucas's short stature - and places him on the counter for easy access to his lips - lucas doesn't complain.

**

that night, as two boys collapse in each other's arms in a parisian apartment on a winter night - a dishwasher and an echo sit, wondering if love is worth all of the stupid stuff it compels one to do.

and as the rain platters against the window - and as eliott leaves lucas shuddering for breath while at the same time being its source - lucas comes to a conclusion.

of course it is.

[nelllraiser]

old town road | jared & nell

LOCATION: some random street in white crest, and jared’s farm. PARTIES: @themidnightfarmer and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: “i got the hellhounds in the back. bies tack is attached” and a reunion long in the making.

Alright. So perhaps she shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the middle of the park under a tree, but the sun had been so nice today, and Nell hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Plus the park was peaceful. Or rather...it was peaceful until the thudding of a bass permeated it, birds scattering as the sound got closer. Nell woke with a start, not having been in all that deep of a sleep. What the fuck? Was that- Old Town Road blasting over from the street. Neven one to be particularly cheerful when suddenly awakened, she wasted not a single moment in stalking over to the truck in question, already yelling out accusations before she could even see who might be driving it. “Hey! Dumbass! Are you shitting me? This is public property!” No mind that she’d been party to many a loud car driving through the streets of White Crest, not caring in the least when it was she who was having fun by doing so. But was that a fucking tractor? “Hey!” she called out again, the sun blocking whoever was in the driver’s seat. “I’m talking to you! And Old Town Road is old news by now! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Jared was truly singing his heart out as the songs on his tape -yes tape- played out. He was only listening to the music that loud to be obnoxious, the old boom box also just for added irritation, so when he heard the yelling he smiled a little. As he was squinting down from his seat he squeezed on the brake to stop the slow moving vehicle, taking his sweet time leaning over to turn the music down a notch so that he could actually hear the accusations. “What was that?!” he yelled down to the fuming girl. The top of her head was barely visible so he sat up a little straighter and peered over the side. He blinked. He blinked again. The third time he actually turned the boombox all the way down and rested his elbows on the steering wheel. “Is there...a bag yelling at me about noise?” he hollered down. Already itching with excitement and unable to stop himself pushing open the tractor door and sliding out. “Weird. It is a bag.”

The slower the man moved, the more heated Nell became, little fists balling up at her sides, all too ready to make this guy regret the very day he was born. But instead, the hands loosened in an automatic response to that voice, one she’d heard far more times than she could count over the years. Her expression went slack with shock before his face came into view, and then the effect was instantaneous. “JJ?” she asked, at a loss for words while she was being surprised with one of her best friends that she hadn’t seen in person for some five years. Once the shock wore off, a grin that took up the majority of her face was quick to find her lips, and a laughter of pure joy and surprise tumbled from her. “Jared!” she exclaimed, far too excited to see the man standing in front of her. It only took a fraction of a second for her to throw her arms around him, giving him no choice in the matter as she tried her best to squeeze the life out of him, not so much as pausing in her trajectory before making their collision come to fruition. She couldn’t even pretend to be insulted by the bag comments at the moment, pure eagerness overshadowing anything else— though she’d certainly get to those.

Jared had a wide smile of his own as she came to realize what he already had. He was momentarily glad the anger from before had washed away, as much as he liked a little bit of chaos about things he didn’t really want that to be the set mood for meeting again after so long. Jared was a little more solid than he was five years ago when she’d left, he’d grown a little taller and had a little more hair on his face. But the stumble from a hurtling Nell was so familiar it was impossible to avoid. A few steps back, but he took her with him. Laughing uproariously as she tried to rid the air from his lungs with her hug. “You’re back,” he said as if it hadn’t been years, and more like a few moments, as if she’d stormed out of his house and then remembered something and had come right back in. The years washed away and he laughed again at how absurd that thought was. She was definitely different from five years ago. He squeezed back, not as hard, but with the same feeling. Texting tiktok links back and forward wasn’t quite the same as this.

“You’re back!” Nell exclaimed, feeling like they were picking up exactly where they’d left off, like they’d never been apart in the first place. Now that the initial shock was through, she could really take him in. Her nose and eyes were still scrunched up with their smile, but now she was also squinting a little. Had his face always been that far away? Doing her own little test, she went back into the hug. No, no, this was definitely lower than where her face had landed in years past when hugging him. Leaning back again, she simply exclaimed, “Why did everyone get taller?! This isn’t fair?!” But there was more than just the height that had changed. “Do you have a beard?” Jesus, when had Jared become an actual adult? It was like someone had taken her best friend, and replaced him with a ‘what do they look like now?’ photo. Reaching up, she teasingly but gently plucked at a few of the hairs. “Sorry I didn’t grow one.”

“I think you being back is a bit of a bigger deal,” Jared pointed out letting the hug ease as she pulled backwards to look at him. “I was here most of the time and you weren’t.” he adds, his arms accepting the new hug before hearing the complaint and snorting at her. “Just because you’re a gnome in the making.” Jared knows it’s been a while, maybe they should be more awkward with each other, but it was just so easy to forget the time. His own hand runs over his cheek. “I don’t usually, just got lazy this last week.” he tells her as if that makes the existence of his sort of beard any easier to digest. Jared squints down at her and hums “Are you sure you didn’t?” bobbing his head up and down as if trying to see under her chin. It was all teasing, an easygoing test of how much had actually changed. She certainly had, she looked different than the eighteen year old that had left. “You changed too, beard or no.”

“Well-” Nell shrugged with a little head waggle, faking overconfidence as a joke, falling right back into old habits. “I can’t help it if I’m a big deal.” Of course, she was only teasing. “Still...I’m glad you’re back when I’m back.” They’d tried to see each other over the years, but it had simply never lined up between their messages and memes they’d sent. “A gnome?!” Her eyes went wide, obviously deeply indignant. “I’m not a gnome! And I’m also not a bag! I’m not a Katy Perry song about plastic bags, either!” Her words were each punctuated with authoritative pokes to his chest, as if the action would prove she was right. “I think it looks good,” she said with a bit of a shrug. “Look at you all grown up.” This time the words held a bit of a tease. “Finally went through puberty and all that. And I tried to glue some hairs on, but it just wasn’t the same.” How long had it been since she’d gotten to be such a fool around someone? With everything happening in town, it was as if Jared couldn’t have appeared at a better moment. “Well yeah- changing tends to happen to people. I don’t live in the body or mindset of a prepubescent boy anymore which is great.”

“You chose shit times to visit.” he accused lightly. “I live here and you choose the few times I go away for something, sounds like a pattern to me, sounds like you didn’t want to see me.” Jared turned his nose up. “I’m a delight I’ll have you know.” Each prod almost cracked his facade, until the song was mentioned and he started to warble the words teasingly down at her finishing with an “I don’t know, sounds biographical to me.” Jared rubs his hand over his facial hair once again before looking at Nell outraged. “I’ve been at this for a lot longer than you have, one of us has owned a house even before you left.” he reminds her before blinking. “Five years is a long time though, a lot has happened back at the farm you know Nell. Five years of mostly unnamed bonedoggles have come through.” Safer to just not comment on her body. He had the self preservation of a goldfish that had jumped out of it’s bowl, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. 

“Or maybe you choose shit times to not be here,” she shot back, though her eyes were still shining with amusement. Always enjoying literally poking fun at him, and having been devoid of it for so long, Nell couldn’t help but also reach up to try and gently pinch his nose, as if in rebuttal to his words and joking, superior attitude. It was rather like a puppy who’d been reunited with their favorite chew toy. “If I’m a bag, you’re a suitcase. And not a nice one.” As he spoke of the farm, a wave of nostalgia hit her all at once, remembering all the memories she’d made there. But his initial tone made her stomach drop. Was everything alright, there? Certainly things had changed but...hopefully for the better, right? A wave of relief washed over her, and a rare giggle was pulled from her, feet pattering in place against the asphalt in anticipation as she shifted quickly from foot to foot, hands going straight into the air with her excitement. “Names! Bonedoggles! Can we go now?” Her eyes were wide, far too ready to commence to the next page of their story. “I can bring the boys!” Wait, he wouldn’t know the boys yet...would he? How strange to think of how different things were, but how exactly the same things felt between them. “Hellhounds! Three of them! And Greg, too!”

Jared wiggled his nose when she got a hold of it, flaring his nostrils and sighing heavily as if it would make her let go. With a pinched off nose his voice came out oddly as he said. “I’m too big to be a suitcase, I couldn’t even fit in a suitcase. And you just said you liked the scruff, so I’m a nicer suitcase than I used to be at least if I have to be one.” Nose released as the excitement took over Jared jerked a thumb over his shoulder “Get in loser, we’re going bo-dog naming.” Then he looked back at her and taunted “Need a boost shortie?” He paused when she mentioned bringing some other people, squinting at her like she’d lost it. His farm got less safe the more people were there to bother the animals, or more people for him to look out for, and she knew that, or he hoped she remembered. And then she clarified and he perked up. “Hellhounds! Genuine Hellhounds?”

Nell couldn’t help but laugh as his altered voice filled the air, and finally released him from her grip. “It’s not my fault you’re oversized. Mmmm, you’re a scruffy suitcase- which can be nice to some, but overall…still scruffy,” she teased. Another exuberant laugh, still high on being reunited and hearing his jokes once more was cut short by the second shoe falling. “I can climb!” she refuted heartily. And if she couldn’t, her tone said she’d die trying. And sure enough, she began to make her attempt at an ascent. “So do I get to drive?” Nell paused to look over her shoulder with half a smirk, wondering if he’d dare to say yes. “I’ve already got tons of name ideas, though. And yeah! I summoned them a while ago, and worked with them enough to get them to like me! It took a while but, definitely worth it. I’m sure they’ll love hanging out with the bonedoggles.”

Even he had to reach far to haul himself into his tractor, so her climbing attempts did little to show her prowess considering she wasn’t anywhere near grabbing the handle, nor reaching the first step. “You don’t get to drive, you get to sit on the boombox and obnoxiously tell me directions to my own house.” Jared said in a tone which suggested he was doing her  a massive favour. As he said this he put his hand under her hanging foot and pushed her upwards, giving her the boost she’d insisted she didn’t need even if now she could grab the handle of the door. “Do you want to go pick them up or want to come see the madness as it is at the moment first?...Where are you even living now you’re back?” So many questions came to mind, it might have felt like no time at all, but enough had happened. Nell had travelled far, they spoke about it a little while she’d been gone, but considering Jared was still where he always had been he’d run out of things to say in comparison quickly. There wasn’t a lot of story time when they’d both been busy. But now felt like the time to catch up. Back in the same place again for the first time in years. It felt good to be reunited with his best friend.

As with most things, Nell would die trying before admitting to needing help to climb the tractor. Already she’d grabbed onto a part she definitely should not have grasped based off of how hot it had been under her hand. “Alright, I’ll drive it home, then,” she said in the same tone as him, as if it were a given. “But I was serious. Old Town Road is old news now. Unless that’s what you were going for.” She made a surprised noise as she felt herself being lifted, but didn’t hesitate to climb the rest of the way up after the boost. “Thanks...I guess,” she said stubbornly, though also with that same air of a joke. “You couldn’t bear to see me perish with the tractor?” As for the hounds. “Oh- no, we can go straight to your’s! I can just Summon them once I’m there.” When they weren’t with Nell, the hellhounds lived their normal lives in their adjacent demon realm, though they sometimes slipped through to pay Nell a visit even without her magicking them there. “I’m living at Bea’s with her and Luce. You know- the house she got with my parents’.” Her tone was decidedly...neutral on the matter, living with your adult sisters not coming without its struggles. “Wait- but you haven’t even seen! Guess what my parents got me as part of me coming back!” She was glowing again, excited to see Jared’s reaction. 

“How else would I irritate people on my way to the store? It’s all by design Nell.” Jared told her with a solemn nod behind her that she couldn’t even see. Once she was inside the cab he made his own way inside, pulling himself up with a grunt of effort and hustling her to sit on the boombox. It was sturdy enough she wouldn’t tip it over easily. “My tractor wouldn’t survive taking a life, it’d be too heartbroken in the end. Can’t have that.” With that Jared turned the keys and the noisy machine rumbled back to life. They had to speak a little louder now, but once the door was closed it wasn’t too unbearable. “All sisters together huh?” He gave her a sideways glance. “That working out alright?” he threw in as casually as he could. He knew living with siblings was no walk  in the park a lot of the time, and he hadn’t done that without a parental mediator present. His eyes were flickering between Nell and the road as they drove up the street back towards his farm on the outskirts. “They got you….a new favourite nymph? I’m upset. Truly cut deep.” he guesses with a hand over his heart dramatically. 

Nell’s head shook in her amusement, glad to find that this part of Jared hadn’t changed in the least. Her own chaotic nature had always reveled in his tricks, taking part in far too many of them, herself. “If you ask me- I wouldn’t have been mad to also see some of those big, inflatable noodle men dancing on the back of the tractor.” The rumble of the tractor underneath her brought another, softer smile to her lips, the sensation of it bringing back a flood of warm memories shared with the man beside her. Just like that it felt like she was eighteen again, no responsibilities to think of. “We can’t have that,” she echoed, suddenly at peace with where she and Jared had found themselves, and the feeling that whatever bad thing that might be waiting for her out in the world couldn’t touch them. “Mhm, all sisters together. It’s been...interesting. I don’t know- you know how Bea and I have always been. And-” With what Luce had witnessed between her and August, the ground was somewhat uncertain there, as well. Even though Luce had supported her. “It’s just different. But I guess we’re managing,” she finished with a lackluster chuckle. She didn’t want to think about that, though. Not when Jared was here, and everything felt like it was shining and good. “Well- yes to the nymph but- that’s not what I was going to say,” she said, grinning at his theatrics before jokingly picking up the hand he’d placed on his chest and putting it back on the tractor. “Two hands on the wheel,” she teased, not actually minding in the least. “But they built me a greenhouse! My own greenhouse!” 

“I’ll think about it, Don’t want anything the animals could potentially destroy and be a waste of money. I need some good durable irritations.” Jared reminded her with a snort. He could just imagine those inflatable men meeting a sticky end on the wrong side of a set of teeth. His eyes flickered over to watch her face as she explained how living with her sisters had been since she got back. “Well, the farm’s a big place still if you want to crash anytime,” Jared offered offhandedly. Not only would it be good for her to have that familiar setting to escape to again, but also he was forced into a kind of solitude with the high gates and the strongest locks in place. He was guarding precious livestock, but that same livestock stopped it being safe for people who were unaware to come visit. None of his beasts had ever phased Nell much however, he was lucky she was just as invested as he was in some creatures just without the otherworldly ties. “Tractor goes so slow it’s hardly a risk, I’m even sober!” he argued, but kept his hands where they were anyway, having been denied a moment more of the drama. “Oh damn, how big? What are your plans? I assume you’ve got plans right? Irrigation system? Is it big enough for an irrigation system? Ack what am I saying any system can be forced small enough where needed.” Jared asked question after question looking at her curious and excited. “Do you need cuttings? My crops aren’t in the best health they’ve ever been but they managed the winter alright, they’ll perk back up now I’m home, you can cut from them as soon as next week!”

“But what if they were detachable,” Nell continued to joke. “Purely for ornamental going into town purposes. And then you could stow them away when you’re not using them. But if you’re after more durable irritants, it’s lucky you found me, isn’t it?” She certainly wasn’t about making some vaguely self-deprecating jokes at times. His offer for the farm brought another warmth to her chest, remembering all the times she’d found herself crashed there before when she hadn’t wanted to deal with her family. “Thanks, J.” To think that even after all this time they were so ready to jump back into this as if nothing had happened. “It’d be fun to do that again.” Even if she hadn’t always been there for the best of reasons, those nights were some of her fondest memories. Nell laughed at his exclamation, simply rolling her eyes in amusement as he carried on with his dramatics. But once it was talk of her sweet, baby plants, she was all pure smiles again. “Yes! So many plans! Right now I’ve sort of just got- a ‘normal’ section and then a supernatural section, but it’s beautiful in there. You should definitely come over to check it out.” It would only make sense. After all, Jared was who had taught her most of what she’d learned when it came to getting things to grow. “And I have something of an irrigation system but- honestly I’d love to see what your thoughts were there, too.” Beyond having her best friend back, it was nice to also have someone who just understood the pure excitement she felt when talking about her plants, and she couldn't help but enjoy the delight on his face, as well. “Really? Next week?” she asked, perking up as her back straightened and she wriggled on her boombox seat in excitement. “You know I’d love to have any cuttings!”

“Humans are far easier to irritate, with far less effort you know. Case and point, I caught a wild Nell in the square and made her furious enough to come and fight me.” Jared pointed out with a small smug grin. “With only a boombox...and now she’s in my tractor, basically kidnapped. A rousing success in my books, with very little effort.” He shrugged a shoulder when she thanked him, in his eyes it would be no different than it was before, plus he lived alone in a large expanse of fields, some company would do him good as well. “Wouldn’t have to stay in the barn anymore, probably wouldn’t be as safe in there anymore considering I’ve got far less cows of the real sort roaming the place since the original livestock passed from when the parents were around.” The excitement over plants maybe wasn’t as strong as it would be for Jared than if they were still talking about her hellhounds, but he was still a farmer, he would always be interested and excited about these things in a greater measure than perhaps another might. “Yeah, your greenhouse is probably in better repair than mine at the moment, but it never takes me long to resurrect anything that was failing. Downfall of being gone for a winter, but last winter we managed around a week. You can have cuttings of anything you want. Though don’t go undercutting me on the market, I have a hundred mouths to feed. Can’t go starving my children now.”

“Well- we all know it’s not that hard to get me going. And I was napping which is like- extra irritability points.” That same smile was tugging at the corners of her lips, though Nell was doing her best to pretend to be serious for a single moment, as if she were truly insulted when that was nowhere near the truth. “Look- I give credit to the boombox. And the tractor. I’m just surprised you didn’t go with ‘She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy’. And you know it’s not that hard to catch a Nell in the wild,” she teased. “Especially if you have...snacks?” It was her way of asking if there were any stashed in here, as she was always ready to eat. “I mean- it’s not like I didn’t like the barn.” How could she have when they’d spent many a night there? “But I’m honored to be welcome into the actual home. Wait- you meant the house, right?” she asked, realizing she’d assumed. “How was it, though? Your winter? Where exactly did you go?” The concept of a migration was rather fascinating to her, and she felt comfortable enough by now to ask Jared any questions that might come to mind. “I won’t starve the children- I steal the children, and make sure they’re well-fed. Then I can safely steal the market, right?” she teased.

“I think my tractor gets double points, and I think the boombox gets special consideration since you just know it would annoy someone that I was using a tape instead of a bluetooth speaker.” Jared insisted despite the points meaning absolutely nothing. “‘She thinks my tractor's sexy’ was next on the tape, but we wouldn’t be able to talk if we turned it back on. “Okay well it may not be hard to catch you, but it’s still worth points and that’s what counts.” he said nodding his head to the backpack slung over the back of the chair. If she could see around the various treats and lures for his livestock she'd find a bag of chips in there and a few cans of soda. “Yeah I mean the house.” he snorted, giving her a glance as he turned off the road onto a dirt path towards one of the main gates into his land. “Where else would I mean? On the roof? In the shed? You have stayed in the house before...one time… right?” It was then Jared was truly stumped, he could have been sure, but her reaction led him to wonder if he’d -I don’t know- dreamed it or something wild. “So turns out migration into Canada isn’t unheard of. The whole herd walked for miles and miles a day. Their behaviour changed over the border and I didn't even realize that was possible!” He started off, having to stop himself from launching into a tirade about his trip. They’d have time for that, best not bore Nell to sleep right off the bat. “Oh so you’re going to leave me to starve, see how it is. Steal the kids and run huh? Left on an empty farm to starve.” he turns his eyes to her as he halts the tractor, letting his glamour alter slightly to make his eyes bigger and glassy. A puppy dog look if ever you’d seen one. “Would you really do me like that?”

“Where do you even find the tapes?” Nell asked with a chuckle, always finding amusement in Jared’s mayhem. “I’ll grant the double points.” Her expression was carefully thoughtful, as if seriously considering these ‘points’. “The boombox gets a point because I’m sitting on it, so that’s obviously a multiplier.” Utter nonsense spilled from her in the name of joking around with her best friend. It was only a moment later that Nell was foraging into the backpack, pulling out the bag of chips and popping it open. She took one out and offered it to Jared, one again teasing, “Both hands on the wheel,” curious how he would go about this. “Yes I’ve been in the house,” she laughed. “But also like- the roof sounds pretty cool too, to be honest. Probably a nice view up there.” She straightened as Jared talked about the migration, looking more interested the more he spoke. “Really? That’s so cool! What do you mean it changed? Did you like it, though?” Nell had never minded Jared launching into wherever his mind took him, always happy to listen. “But yep- that’s basically the plan. I’ll let you keep this bag of chips, though. I’m takin’ the kids and the dog!” she joked as the tractor came to a stop. Nell looked up from the chips to be met with Jared’s puppy dogs eyes, and nearly instantly- a small smile formed. “Stop that- that’s no fair!”

“I made them! My own mixtapes. Took a bit of fiddling but I got them to go. Bit of extra effort, but once they’re done they’re endless enjoyment.” Jared insisted falling silent to nod solemnly as Nell allotted points to his efforts that day. “Do I get a combo bonus because it added an extra player to my party? Gotta be worth something!” Jared groused cheekily. He snapped his teeth in the air towards her and the offered snack. Eyes firmly on the road he missed the treat by several inches. “C’mon Nell, I’m a growing boy.” This was punctuated with a few more reaching bites in the air. “What’s the phrase? me casa, soup casa? Just make yourself at home, don’t have any locks on the place, if you can make it through the gauntlet of the farmlands then you’re welcome inside.” A beamed grin took over his face when she asked for clarification, trust Nell. “Before the border they travelled in a different order, stuck closer together at night and feeding times while they oved, then they crossed and seemed to lose organisation. Still one member of the herd in the lead but they all walked in a line across the way, like they were minimising the damage to the woodland. It was spectacular.” Jared hummed in delight. Her smile gave her away and soon Jared was pushing his eyes to blow out, his pupils dilated as far as he could go without slipping into a demonic blackout. “You’re taking everything but the dog? Don’t you care for me? Did we mean nothing?” he says heaving a heavy breath and shaking his shoulders as if in a mock sobbing fit. 

“What? DJ Beets isn’t good enough for you, anymore?” Nell teased, referencing the nearly ancient iPod they’d traded back and forth since she was fourteen. “I feel like an original iPod dock with speakers could provide some very chaotic and irritating vibes.” Nevermind that the iPod was currently in her possession. “Now you’re getting greedy with points,” she finished with a bit of a smirk. “You never know when to quit, do you?” Again she laughed as his teeth gnashed at the chip, having far too much fun while darting the chip around, a moving target. But finally she took pity, holding it still before him as she said, “If you grow any more, I’m suing. I already look like a troll next to you. A cute troll. But a troll, nonetheless.” Again her head shook gently in her delight. “That’s not even close to right. I accept the challenge, though.” But the mention of soup reminded her of something. “What have you been eating?” By now she knew that Jared wasn’t exactly Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen. But then she was back to being curious about his herd and migration. “Really? And they did that the whole way until they got back to the border, and crossed over again?”  Nell raised her hands to jokingly cover her eyes as Jared continued to look her way, always ready to be equally dramatic as him. “No!” she exclaimed, though it was mixed with another laugh. “I’m taking the dog, too.” Her fingers parted to reveal a single eye of her’s peeping out at Jared. “You know purple’s my favorite color.” The words were in reference to his true eye color, rather than the blue he usually put on, though she loved both of the shades. “You know that’s not true.”

“My allegiance will always be with DJ Beets. But I didn’t have them did I? Had to make do, the old tape player I had has a better battery life than DJ Beets anyway. It’s why I posted them to you when I left for the winter. No music on a trail would have left me tragically trudging on.” Jared shook his head and huffed a breath. “I don’t know when to quit, but it’s not like you do either.” he stuck his tongue out at that point teasingly before crunching the chip offered to him. “You’re not a troll, a gnome remember? But like a ceramic one, we could get you a pointy hat and a fishing pole if you want? Isn’t that how humans do wild miscalculations about other species?” Jared messed with her, it was far too fun to rile her up, and he’d been in serious withdrawal. “Eating? Who is that? I don’t know her.” He joked to deflect the question. Jared was certainly not a person who was at ease in a kitchen. He hadn’t really stepped foot in his own since he got home. Preferring to light a camping stove in the yard and heat some water for some sort of camping meal, the same as he’d been doing while away. A much easier fix than burning perfectly good food. “They did! It was incredible, they even took a different path on the way back, and seemed to step in different patterns than the way there. Very chaotic, but uniform at the same time.” When Nell covered her eyes Jared rolled his eyes and slid out of the seat, popping the door of the tractor open again and decided to leave it there instead of throwing the gates wide. “Come on then traitor, let's divide our assets and tell the kids the bad news. Nell doesn’t care about me anymore, she is taking everything and I’m going to have to skip town to avoid the heartbreak.” Offering her a hand so she didn’t fall face first out of the cab. Although even as he said this he let his eyes slide back to normal, the real normal. Blue making way for purple as the puppy dog facade faded.

“That’s true, DJ Beets might need a new battery, actually.” Maybe Nell could ask Winston about that, especially with their new magic developing, and possibly even make some nifty upgrades to surprise Jared with. “Everything with you is tragic,” she joked, certainly no stranger to Jared’s dramatics. “And you’re lucky there’s no actual gnomes around to hear you. I think I’d want to be one of those disturbingly sexy gnomes on lawns, though. The ones that make you wonder why something like that was ever made in the first place. Not that I’m that small! I’m not a gnome at all! You’re just...abnormally big!” she finished stubbornly, though the words were...obviously untrue despite her bias and pride. Her eyes narrowed, suddenly serious as she considered the man in front of her. “Your answer does nothing to make me feel better, Jared. I’ll make something while I’m here.” It wasn’t a question so much as a certainty in her eyes. It seemed that the coast was clear as she heard Jared slide to the ground, and she leaned tentatively over the side of the tractor, as if to make sure it was safe for her to look. “Like I could ever break your heart,” she simply said before accepting his hand without qualms this time. Then she was stepping down, carefully, and soon enough she was planted on the ground next to him. “Should I bring the hounds, now? Or wait?”

“I’m sure there’s one somewhere on the internet.” Jared assured her. He wasn’t worried. Their ipod had lasted this long, no reason to think it would give up the ghost now. If it was a new part it needed, it was a new part they’d find. “The gnomes won’t find me, and I’m faster than them.” He tried to gloss over the food thing. He wasn’t worried, so he didn’t want her to be. He’d never been good at cooking and he was doing just fine so far. Even after she left, he managed on take out, pre packaged foods and camping meals. A perfectly respectable diet in Jareds eyes. “Good luck with that, see what you can find.” he was certain she wouldn’t find anything suitable. Maybe a bag of raw pasta. But absolutely nothing to go with it. As was the way of Jared's kitchen at the moment. Once she was on her feet he simply made his way to the fence to climb over. Tall it was, but the charms on it had been broken a day or so ago with his return. “You break it every day.” he shot back teasingly as he threw a leg over the top of the fence waiting for her to climb after him. “Days without a tiktok sent, I was going spare!” he lamented with a wrist laid on his forehead. “I’d wait until the other side of the fence.” He was eager to meet genuine hellhounds, but he also knew they’d need to be on the move so as not to linger in the path of one of his herds that travelled the property. He wasn’t one to try and tame his animals, rather he let them feel he was a safe being and allowed him to live so that they could thrive on his land without issue. Probably not the safest practice, but five years in he was yet to have any serious repercussions. “Can you summon on the move?”

“I have a friend who might be able to help, too,” Nell began. “You remember Winston?” They’d already been friends when she’d met Jared, and long before that. “Well, they’re still a nerd,” she began fondly, “and I was thinking they could maybe help spruce DJ Beets up a little. You know- make sure they had a long, and healthy life. Have plenty of grandchildren. A wrap-around porch. All that jazz.” As for the food and Jared’s lack of proper nutrition, she’d let the conversation die for now, though he certainly wasn’t off the hook in her mind. Nell wasted no time in launching herself over the fence, perhaps even more agile than Jared might remember. She’d been doing gymnastics back in the day, but now she also had five more years of fighting experience beneath her belt. “If I break it, it’s only because you break mine first. So who’s really to blame, here?” As always, she laughed at his theatrics before playfully trying to swipe his dramatic hand away from his forehead. “You just use me for the Tiktoks,” she accused, matching his histrionics, it being her turn to bring a hand to her chest, apparently aghast. “But, yeah!” she said with a bright grin. “See?” The she was pulling up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a summoning circle tattoo she’d gotten while they’d been apart. All it needed to bring the hellhounds to where she stood was a bit of blood. “So whenever is best for you!” It wasn’t unlike the first tattoo she’d gotten while she was fifteen, having shown that one off to Jared as well when Luce had done it for her. It had also been for summoning, though when activated had only brought forth a single, juvenile cockatrice back in the day.

“Yeah I remember them, if they’re willing to sacrifice some time for DJ Beets I’m all for it.” Jared knew of Nell’s other friends, she spoke about them often and he was always willing to hear the shenanigans. There just hadn’t been an awful big chance for him to interact with them. He’d seen them around, but considering his friendship with Nell had been born of a fluke single moment at a party, it wasn’t unusual that her other friends didn’t interact with him. Considering also the fact he left school shortly after they met and skipped a lot of his last year. Nell seemed to be very certain he held more cards in their friendship than he felt he did, but he didn’t argue any further, they’d be at it all day knowing them. She made quick work of the fence and he lowered down on the other side laughing at her own dramatic flair. “Not only for the tiktoks but they’re such a big bonus, how could I refuse?” Feet hitting the ground he tugs on her wrist gently to get a good look. “And it works like the other one?” he asked as he encouraged her to walk along the path with him. He took a few longer strides to be ahead before turning to walk backwards. “Do it now? Are they as wild as my bonedoggles? Or are they too classy to be vicious? I’ve yet to meet hellhounds for real.” He gushed with excitement. 

Nell’s eyes rolled gently as she grinned, but also knew that she’d been truly lucky to come across Jared today. She had no doubt they would have met, anyway, whether it be planned or not, but sooner was always better than later when it came to seeing him. “A bonus, he says. Is there anything you can’t charm your way out of? Or at least try to charm your way out of?,” she teased. Nell let him examine the tattoo, laid above the lines and lines of scars that ran along her forearms, the places where she took her blood sacrifices from when it came to fueling more serious bits of magic. When she’d left, she’d already had a fair amount, but after all the fighting and spellwork she’d done over the past five years, they were now overlapping over one another. She often glamoured them in public to avoid questions, but she knew she didn’t need to do that when it was only Jared here. “Yay! Exactly the same!” She’d been trying to keep up with him as his strides lengthened, her own, shorter legs carrying her faster before she realized what he was doing. Nell nearly collided with him when he turned around, and came to a quick halt as she laughed. “Generally...yes. They wanted to burn my face off when we first met but- now they’re used to me! And they listen to me! But I’m sure they’ll love you!” she said, alluding to his nymph status, and the creatures he was patron to. “Cheater,” Nell joked, though Jared’s excitement was spilling into her. It only took a moment for her to bite her thumb until it bled before swiping it over the summoning circle, speaking a few summoning words as she did so. In another moment, the trio of hellhounds burst forward, instantly going up to Nell with wagging tails and sitting neatly, as if expecting a treat.

“I’m very charming. Incredibly charming even!” Jared argued in return making a face at her, and just proving the exact opposite. He took in the new tattoo carefully, eyes roaming over the increased level of scarring also, but not saying a word. It was witch business, he knew he’d never understand even if he felt he understood enough to get by on the trust that Nell knew what she was doing. He stopped moving when she almost crashed into him and laughed lightly at the action. “We’ll see if I can make a good impression.” Jared insisted, miming straightening a tie on a non existent collar, and fussing with the cuffs of a dress shirt he wasn’t wearing. He waited eagerly as she drew blood. Watching closely with interest as she went through the summoning process. The appearance of the hounds had Jared clenching his fists to stop himself from making any sudden leaps about their character. They might be lined up for Nell, but he actually didn’t want to make a bad impression or assume too much. “Beauties.” He commented looking at Nell for a moment before digging in his pockets. If you thought the nymph had left the house with empty pockets you were dreadfully mistaken. Sometimes you needed to carry a little dried flesh to bribe with. He almost bows to the hounds, as he rounds to get beside Nell in his excitement, in the end completely giving in to the notion and giving the trio a bow of respect anyway. “Fuck Nell look at them.”

Nell stuck her tongue out at him playfully when he laughed at her abrupt stop. But as soon as Jared started digging in his pockets, Scooby’s ears pricked, knowing that sound from having received far too many treats in his lifetime. Turning his head towards Jared, he broke formation before his tail began to wag in even more earnest. Out of the bunch, he was the one most easily charmed by snacks. Hence- having been named the Scooby of the three hellhounds. “Go ahead,” Nell said with a soft smile on her lips, her voice taking on that gentle quality she saved solely for animals or beasts that weren’t attacking her. Scooby barely even waited for permission before bounding over to Jared, nose trying to shove its way into the man’s pockets for the delicious goodness that was hidden within. “Come on, Scooby!” Nell laughed. “Use your manners!” But she’d known Jared would adore them just as much as she did, and she couldn’t help but love the way he was with them. Meanwhile, Scrappy and Shaggy held back, stood in front of Nell as if making sure this man wasn’t any sort of threat before taking a single, curious step forward. Thankfully, Nell’s hellhounds had been with her long enough to listen to most things she said, though they were still very much wild creatures at times.

Jared didn’t dare do anything but shoot Nell an incredibly longing look. It wasn’t polite to touch without permission, but with a snout in his pocket he was struggling hard to resist. He turned out the pocket that was being broken into carefully slow enough for the hound to catch the treats that would fall out. Once he was at Nells side he pulled the rest of the treats out of his other pocket and offered one in each hand to the other two hounds. He waited with baited breath, marvelling at how Nell had control of the, at how they sat and interacted with her and each other. They were truly fascinating, and he could already feel the usual small lingering tie to them that he usually felt with vicious beasts of all kinds. “Scooby? Like the cartoon?” He asks Nell, not taking his eyes off the trio for even a second. He was ecstatic to have Nell back at his side, but she’d brought something he’d never bargained for. “Hellhounds are just everything I imagined and more.” he breathes, stooping and tilting his head to get a slightly closer look without invading anyone's personal space. “The three of you are wonderful.” he compliments. “Absolutely stunning.” But he’d run out of treats and -as he was desperate to make a good impression- he nudged Nells arm. “Race to the house for more treats?”

Nell knew that look, and trusted her hounds and Jared, but it was always good to proceed with caution when dealing with creatures such as these. “Scooby’s always happy if you give him treats. And yeah, like the show,” she laughed. “And then Shaggy and Scrappy too,” she said, motioning to the other hounds. “Also from the show. The gang’s all here.” Scooby wasted no time in gobbling up as many of the treats he could get, and Nell tried to remind him, “Save some for your brothers!” But he wasn’t having it. As far as the hellhound seemed to be concerned, these were all his treats. “I’m glad I could show you them.” Her voice was perhaps the most sincere it’d been since she’d found him in town on the tractor, for she was truly happy she could give Jared this spark of joy. Shaggy was next to come forward, always the one who was most hungry for any form of affection he could muster up from those Nell trusted. It was only a moment before he was shoving his enormous head under Jared’s hand, demanding the petting he obviously thought he deserved. Scrappy still seemed hesitant, fur raised ever so slightly as he watched the other to dogs. Out of the bunch, he was the smallest, and the most cautious, which also meant he was the one most willing to attack at a moment’s notice. A slow and mischievous grin blossomed on Nell’s lips before she simply took off running towards the house, wind whipping in the air as she called back to Jared. “I’m going to win!” The dogs fell into line behind her, excited to run after her.

“Does that mean I get to be Velma? Since the name is still open for any takers.” Jared’s eyes were firmly watching the hounds as they scoped him out -some more thoroughly than others and that was very clear. “They’re brilliant Nell, I’ve been gifted this day. Take note. Today was the day only good things happened...so far.” He said in a loud resounding voice, passing treats over easily to Shaggy and withdrawing slightly in proximity to the smallest hound. Hoping to ease any stress the beast might have felt. It was this motion that distracted him enough to not notice Nell take off towards the house. All three of the hounds spinning on a dime to give chase. “CHEATER.” Jared yelled after her, slow to start but running after her and her new charges across the open farmland soon enough. 

[luci-cunt]

Hi, welcome to my open worm can, here’s me not being able to shut up Cureless and Cynical version @sargent-major-jane​ whyyyyyyy do youuuu doooo thiisss too meee aksdjfl;askdj XDD <33

Ok so first of all, here’s the cast: Izyc, a demon; Walter, a vampire; Lou a werewolf 6 year old

The story starts out with Walter summoning a demon (who happens to be Izyc) because he wants to bring his friend (Caine) back from the dead. Walt’s at this point basically a dumbass rich fratboy and him and Caine had this pretty not great friendship that was super co-dependant and toxic because Caine is not a good person. Anyways, Caine ends up dying, but the circumstances seem fishy because no one will talk to Walter about it so he gets the fantastic idea to bring Caine back from the dead. 

Izyc’s a little ass tho and he’s like “how do you want him?” and so Walter orders one supersized friend resurrection. 

“Alright,” Izyc said, cracking his knuckles and standing up, “which one is he?”

Walter pointed to Caine’s grave and Izyc walked over to stand in front of it. He scanned the grave stone, it was made of lacquered wood, with Caine’s name burned into it. “A wonderful son and friend with an honest soul, he will be missed.”

“Must be nice to have one of these,” Izyc remarked, more joking than wistful, “I think my parents buried me in a Payless box in the backyard.”

“Sorry,” Walter said, not sure what to say. 

Izyc just shrugged, “them’s the apples,” he said, which didn’t make sense to Walter but Izyc was moving on.

There’s just one problem with this whole thing, and that’s the fact that Caine does NOT want to be alive. The reason no one told Walter about Caine’s death in detail was because Caine killed himself, and now he’s back as a nearly unkillable monster. 

So Caine mauls the hell out of Walter’s arm and turns HIM into a vampire. 

Some details about vampires in this world: they’re nearly unkillable. The only thing that can kill them is another vampire. The sunlight thing is a myth, Walt is allergic to garlic tho. Also he’s got fangs, and has better senses. Oh and there’s a wrinkle: the vampiric disease can be transfered thru bodily fluids--I promise this will be important later XDD

Anywhoo--Walt’s a vampire now and he’s grouchy and grumpy about it. he goes all emo and the story flashes forward 7ish years to him sulking in a bar even though he can’t get drunk he just LiKeS tHe BuRn. 

this is where we find out Izyc has stuck around, and that him and Walter hunt monsters. Also that Izyc really likes his pair of jeans. 

Izyc cried out as he hit the ground, scrambling to hold onto something as the gnome dragged him down into the tunnels. His arms hit the sides of the tunnel and stopped him and he cursed. 

Walter was on him in a second, grabbing him by the coat as Izyc held onto his arms and pulled against the gnome. 

“Fucking– catch– fire!” Walter yelled, straining to pull Izyc out of the hole. 

“I like these jeans!” Izyc yelled back, “Ow! Shit!” he yelped, probably as the thing’s claws started digging in. 

Oh also: since Izyc is a demon he’s got some magic powers, most namely: the ability to set himself on fire, the ability to conjure anything in the world as long as he makes a deal, and an immunity to vampire sicknesss. 

Also also: these are gnomes in this universe (description courtesy of Izyc’s bestiology)

Surprisingly large, looks a bit like if a mole and a man decided to shit on god’s face by fucking. Claws for hands and pointy faces with milky eyes covered by big, bushy eyebrows. Does not wear clothing, which is a sight, and known for dragging unsuspecting women into their dens during mating seasons. The species is exclusively male and very reclusive/ meek. Will not inhabit anywhere within a mile of another gnome.

So.... moving on.... Izyc and Walt have an odd relationship, they travel around the US living out of hotels (specifically one that’s run by a man eating ghoul named Klancy who may or may not be 100 years old). 

Some details to know about demons: most of them were desperate people who sold their souls to other demons for something in their life. Then when they die they get stuck in this limbo and are basically hellish office workers. People can summon Izyc, but the only ritual most know just pokes at him and he can ignore it. It’s actually how him and Walt get jobs, someone summon’s Izyc and gives him details and then Walt and him zip on over. 

So Izyc’s got nothing better to do and Walt was his first ever deal so sue him, he’s lonely, he just kinda sticks with Walt. After a couple of years tho they start fucking, and both claim it’s for convenience sake--mostly Walt tho, cuz he can’t have sex with anyone who isn’t a vampire unless he wants to make them a vampire and -- yeah anyways.

Izyc catches feelings though, and he tries to pipe up about it, but then Lou crashes into the story. 

Some details to know about werewolves: they don’t only transform under the full moon, but that is a sacred time for them. They’re very ostracized by the world, forced to live in tiny communities and keep to themselves because they’re “dangerous.” 

One day, a vampire comes through and murders Lou’s entire pack

and the two other packs living in the town with them. 

Lou is the only survivor, and she’s friends with a woman named Luca who mentions a bitchy-but-nice vampire named Walter. 

And so Lou’s grieving 6 y/o brain goes “only a vampire can kill another vampire, this is perfect” and tracks Walt down and twists his heart strings until he agrees to at least check the scene out. 

Details about Luca: she’s Walter’s ex-boyfriend’s step-sister and she’s also half banshee. She’s also also one of Walter’s only friends. 

Some details about banshee’s: contrary to popular belief they aren’t omens of death, rather just really fucked up people. They’re usually the product of a hateful birth and feel emotion so strongly they’ll only be able to feel one single emotion in their lives. Usually people’s first emotions when their born is fear, and thus--screaming banshee’s. However, if you’re only part banshee you feel other emotions but they’re still super strong, so Luca’s basically cracked out bipolar. She takes meds that help but if she doesn’t take them it gets BAD.

Anyways, Walter goes to the crime scene, it goes a little like this: 

It started as splatters, dried and dirty looking on the ground. Then it got thicker, darker, and more concentrated. The walls of surrounding buildings were painted with it, and the street looked like it had been bathed in it. At the end of the street, however, was a schoolhouse, which seemed to be the source of all of it. 

Walter’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Hey!” a voice called suddenly, stirring Walter out of where he’d been standing, staring at the school. It wasn’t very large, just a long, single story building that had a lot of windows and big doors. Above them were rusting metal letters spelling ‘SMITH CREEK ELEMENTARY.’ Most of the windows were broken and the doors had been torn off their hinges. The lawn in front of the school – which had probably been grass before – was now torn up and muddied from countless claws scrambling and tearing it up. 

“Hey!” The voice called again, this time closer, “you can’t be here.”

Walter turned to find a man walking up to him. He was wearing an officer’s uniform and his face was scrunched up in annoyance behind a big paper mask that covered his mouth and nose. Walter could smell lavender on it. The officer was also quite a bit shorter than Walter, and he had blond hair and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Walter. 

“I’m on business,” Walter said, “a consultant,” he lied. 

The officer gave him a shrewd look, “we didn’t hear anything about you coming up,” he said. 

Walter sighed, “it’s not my fault your department is useless.” The man’s face twitched. “I’m going back to work now, unless you want me to bother my superior and admit you messed up,” Walter said, brushing past the bristling man. 

“What kind of consultant are you supposed to be?” he asked, jogging a bit to catch up to Walter as he picked his way up to the school. There was a shallow set of stairs leading to the doors. The stairs were dark with blood and Walter almost expected them to be tacky. It had been days though, and they were dried by now. 

“Vampiric expert,” Walter said. 

“What are your credentials?” 

Walter turned and flashed his fangs. All the blood drained from the mans face and he took a few quick steps back. Walter didn’t stop walking, just tore through the caution tape blocking the doorway and went inside.

We find out later on that this is actually Caine’s doing, and Caine goes on a bit of the murder spree, which is what the book devolves into. Before it was some cases, a bunch of undocumented kishi (people with hyena faces on the backs of their heads) run into a wyvern problem that turns into a monster smuggling scandal. Izyc pisses off pirates which results in them kidnapping him to try and make Walt murder a bunch of mermaids, which just leads to the mermaids and Walt eating all the pirates. They meet another vampire named Marissa who happens to also be a warlock and zips them into a pocket dimension that’s like a 1950′s nuclear family where Izyc goes crazy, manages to escape, and then has to get into Walt’s pocket dimension and kill his alternate self.

yknow, the usual. 

This is so fucking long I’m so sorry if you managed to get all the way down here I owe you my whole soul aksjdf;lakjsdf;lkajsdf here’s some snippets: 

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @michicant123!

Read on AO3

*****

Gnome Sweet Gnome

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

“Nice of you to completely ignore the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself into this kind of predicament again . And besides, I’m not about to go around town and have the good people of Beacon Hills thinking that I’m some kind of a child abuser .”

Derek frowns, but begrudgingly relents to Stiles’ fretting.

As Stiles tightens his childhood snowflake scarf around the grumpy boy, he reflects upon how exactly he ended up in this situation.

An hour earlier...

“It’s going to be fine . Derek is staying behind with you--”

“ With me, Scott?” Stiles scoffs incredulously, as he flops onto his bed, paying little attention to the freshly printed research notes being crushed beneath his weight. “We both know that he’s going to be skulking around town, scaring the crap outta anyone that gives him a passing glance because he has no control over his glares.”

“Dude, you’re nuts. I’ve seen Derek be all not glare-y plenty of times, especially with you. Besides, he wanted to stay behind.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at those words, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know. Just take care of that feral wendigo as soon as you can, I’m still not over our Die Hard movie marathon being so rudely interrupted.”

Scott chuckles good naturedly, but the audio of the phone call turns patchy, breaking the warm laughter into staticy pieces.

“Hey, buddy, I think you guys are going through shitty service area.” Stiles raises his voice in an attempt to get his parting message through, “Stay safe, kick some feral wendigo ass, I’ll be-- we’ll be totally fine.”

A broken thank you and half of what Stiles assumes was going to be a loving and brotherly parting message is the last thing he hears when the line goes dead. He stares at his now silent phone, pouting childishly at the fact that him and Derek were the line of defense for Beacon Hills while Scott and the rest of his pack went off to go deal with a feral wendigo that tore its way through the neighboring town.

It drew dangerously close to Beacon Hills, but inevitably didn’t tread onto Scott’s territory. Unfortunately, the feral wendigo showed no signs in slowing its killing spree. And Scott, being the overly generous true Alpha he was, insisted upon hunting down the wendigo before any others were unnecessarily killed.

Fortunately, things in Beacon Hills were actually rather calm for once. As this thought flits across Stiles’ mind, he reaches his arm out to knock on the side of his wooden bedframe three times. He never expected to be of the superstitious type, but when you deal with the supernatural on a daily basis, it’s only natural for certain superstitions to follow.

Anyways, things in Beacon Hills are rather calm for once. College is out for Winter break, meaning that Scott and him have been participating in much needed gaming, binging, and general bro time. Albeit being back in Beacon Hills doesn’t permit much time to enjoy such things, as in between the gaming and the binging just this past week they’ve had to deal with a whole ensemble of supernatural creatures.

A bunyip with a rather terrible sense of direction, skeevy gnomes, and apparently dryads (which, honestly, Stiles shouldn’t have been all that surprised by their existence). Just to name a few.

“Who knows, maybe Derek will sniff out some havoc-wreaking, supernatural creature during his patrol.” Stiles mumbles to himself. “Just a small thing to help the time pass faster…”

The doorbell rings and Stiles sits up with a start. He looks at the time on his phone with a frown, it reads 3:24 pm. His dad is still at work, Derek is still on patrol (even if he was done or found something he would have helped himself to the graciously unlocked and slightly cracked open window and just invited himself in as usual), and Scott along with the rest of the pack were on the trail of the north-bound wendigo.

Carefully and cautiously, with years of supernaturally honed wariness, Stiles carefully peers out his window to take a surreptitious glance at whoever was on the doorstep… a kid? Before Stiles can even process what he’s looking at, the kid looks up directly at Stiles and locks eyes. Stiles stumbles backwards from the window in shock and trips over his gnome research notes that were neatly stacked on the floor.

“What the shit ?” Stiles hisses under his breath as his mind tries to make sense of the kid at the house’s doorstep. A ghoul? No, no, that doesn’t make sense, a ghoul wouldn’t politely knock. Scared child of a mysterious origin? That’s the most likely… those clothes are obnoxiously huge for such a small kid…

A young but irritated voice travels up through the cracked window, “Just open the damn door, Stiles.”

“Can’t you just use your werewolf powers to break the door dow-oh my God !?” Stiles rushes back over to the window and pulls it all the way open, he leans out and looks at the kid with disbelief, “No. Fucking. Way .”

Sure enough, standing on the front doorstep of Stiles’ home was a very displeased, ruffled, and tiny Derek Hale. There was something off-putting about seeing a young (what was he, seven!? ) child standing with crossed arms and a glare that would make anyone's skin crawl if not for the fact that the person delivering the glare was a child .

“ Yes way. Now, let me in . Unless you want your door to be accidentally turned into toothpicks.” The threats coming from such an adorable baby face, somehow made them seem simultaneously more and less intimidating.

Stiles splutters and quickly makes his way downstairs. He pulls open the front door after taking a couple steadying breaths to reveal some three odd feet of pure irritation.

“Wh-What even happened ?” Stiles quickly steps away from the doorway as the enraged child pushes his way into the Stilinski abode. “Wait a sec, are you even Derek? The Derek I know would have Nightcrawler-ed his way up into my room without a second thought… Oh crap, I’m going to die now, aren’t I?”

The child gives Stiles an unimpressed and a well-practiced glare. That alone makes the anxious feeling that was starting to creep up his spine back off quickly.

“Last time I checked, Nightcrawler teleports and werewolves do no such thing.” Derek frowns up at Stiles’ dumbstruck, and now relieved face.

“Oh thank god, you are Derek…” Stiles splutters once more as he attempts to make sense of the scene before him, “W-th-w-how…? I reiterate, what happened?”

Derek turns with a growl and starts to head up the stairs, comically stumbling on the clothes that are Derek’s size, roughly 20 years too soon. Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head in an effort to see if this was just some sort of elaborate hallucination. But young Derek is still there when he reopens his eyes. So he closes the front door and moves to follow Derek up the stairs.

“Uh...Der…?” Stiles speaks hesitantly, keeping his distance from the angry child.

“What do you think happened, Stiles?” Derek snaps as he reaches the second landing.

“I literally have no idea, hence the question. I thought you were mellowing out in your old age, guess I was wrong.” Stiles leans against the banister, “Though to be fair, you being a child might be a contributing factor to your classic Derek Hale grumpiness™. But no matter what age you are, you have a knack for being the most frustrating person I’ve ever had to deal with.”

Stiles chuckles to himself and looks up at Derek, awaiting an equally scathing remark, only to find Derek’s wide, hazel eyes focused on the ground, his small lower lip quivering just the slightest bit. Stiles is taken aback by this amount of sincerity upon Derek’s face, it’s so uncharacteristic but he can’t help but feel absolutely awful about his jabs.

“Uh…” Stiles struggles to find the words, which is par for the course when dealing with Derek in regards to anything other than snark and sarcasm.

“You’re right,” Derek’s voice is soft and so young sounding, Stiles stills at this, “I shouldn’t have expected you to just automatically know what went wrong.”

“Derek I…” But whatever moment of sincerity that managed to exist between the two of them was quickly forgotten as Derek finally returned Stiles’ earlier snark with a comment of his own.

“But I assumed that as our resident researcher and navigator of the bestiary, that you would have a grasp on exactly what could have caused this without me having to hold your hand through everything.” Derek turns and walks to Stiles’ room, calling over his shoulder, “I guess you’re growing senile in your old age.”

“H-hey! You’re older than me!” Stiles follows.

“Not right now, I’m not. As you have made sure to point out.” Derek frowns at the papers strewn about the room, “How the hell do you find anything in this mess?”

“I’ve told you before, I have a system of organized chaos, step off.”

“Right…” Derek responds dubiously. With a roll of his eyes, he goes over to Stiles’ wardrobe and starts rifling through the contents.

“Why yes, Derek. Please, help yourself to my clothes.” Stiles sorts through his recent research notes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I realize that I may not be as buff as you when you’re all regular Derek sized, but I think my clothes will still be too big for you. Unless you decide to wear a pair of my boxers as shorts…”

He hears Derek grunt in affirmative as he grabs the gnome notes that he so unceremoniously kicked out of the carefully organized pile on his floor. As he shuffles the pages together, he flips through them gently. There’s pages on gnome diets, their underground culture, how to visit them, how to appease them, et cetera.

“So I’m going to have to admit my ignorance here. Other than that thing that you know who was trying to accomplish, I have no idea why or how this is happening…” Stiles turns to look at Derek, who is now wearing a pair of Stiles’ egg printed boxers and an incredibly loose, threadbare tank top that he didn’t even realize he still had. “You’re gonna have to give me something to work with… so I can… crack this case.”

Derek blinks, no appreciation for Stiles’ joke making abilities.

“Forget you, that was hilarious. Throw me a bone.” He stops with faux consideration, “I guess I should be the one throwing you a bone though.”

At the lack of a reaction, Stiles withers and pouts, slumping against his windowsill.

“Are you done?”

Stiles nods silently.

“Okay, so I was on patrol, as we agreed.”

“Mm-hm?”

“And while I was on patrol, I…” Derek hesitates before continuing carefully. “Noticed something strange, and next thing I know, I’m suddenly in the body of my six year old self again.”

Stiles stares at Derek as he says this, his body language is strangely guarded and Stiles frowns. “I personally think you look closer to seven or eight, but that’s beside the point. Derek, that is possibly the least helpful thing you could have told me. Could you give me a place, smell, or description to work with? Literally anything helpful at all?”

“City park. Near the library.” Derek grits out the words as if the confession of that helpful information was physically painful.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Stiles stands and moves to his whiteboard, he spins it around to reveal a map of Beacon Hills. “Okay…” He pores over the map and sees that a sealed entrance to the old subway is located near the back of the library.

“Was this near the Eastern or Western part of the park?”

“Uh… east.”

“Hm…” Sure enough, the underground entrance meets up with about where Derek reticently described. He starts to mentally list the various supernatural creatures that like to make their home in the underground area. “So… why didn’t you just help yourself into my room as you usually do? You never answered.” Stiles says conversationally.

“I...I couldn’t.”

“What was that?”

“I said, I couldn’t.”

Stiles turns away from the board to gawk at Derek. “What do you mean, you couldn’t ? Derek, do you not have your werewolfiness right now?”

“No. I mean I don’t not have it. But I don’t have the fine-tuned control that my adult body does.” Derek looks down at his small palms, “If I try to use my werewolf abilities in anyway, I have no way of gauging the strength behind my actions right now.”

“Exactly how strong can a werewolf child be?” Stiles laughs weakly.

“Let me put it this way. I tried to run here on my hands and feet, because that’s usually faster for me. Rather than running, I accidentally destroyed part of the asphalt on the ground.” Derek slumps onto the ground, “I can’t control it right now.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Stiles turns back to the board and writes down a list of the underground dwelling creatures. “Did you catch a whiff of any of these before this happened to you?”

“I...might have noticed a gnome.”

“Oh man, really? I don’t want to have to deal with them again so soon.” Stiles goes over to his freshly organized pile of gnome notes, he flips through them to the sections on how to visit and appease them. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid to piss them off?”

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You haven’t given me much to work with, can you blame me?”

Derek levels him with a classic glare and stare. “I didn’t do anything to piss them off.”

“You sure you didn’t accidentally kick a gnome puppy or something? Destroy any gnome gardens?” Stiles grins, “Did you kill Gnomeo and Juliet?”

“Alright, clearly you’re not going to help. I’ll wait until everyone else is back.” Derek moves to leave the room.

“Wait wait wait, sorry. This is just… ridiculous.” Stiles flips through his notes to the visitation pages. There are illustrations of jewel toned beetles amongst the steps of how to enter a gnome’s underground city. “Hm? You know I was initially joking about stepping on gnome stuff but…” Stiles takes a closer look at the descriptions under the beetles. “Do you remember maybe accidentally stepping on this ?”

He turns the book towards Derek and points at the emerald beetle illustration. Beneath it reads the words “ used to shrink non-gnome creatures into a size that allows visitation into a gnome city, typically used for land negotiations and trading ”.

Derek’s eyes widen in recognition, but he quickly shrugs, floundering slightly, “M-maybe, I’m not sure.”

“ Dude , you should have said something sooner, Jesus.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek huffs and averts his gaze. But there’s gotta be something more to this.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Whatever, c’mon we need to get you back to the gnome-man lands, they have these ruby beetles to reverse the effect of the emerald beetles.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not having you leave the house dressed in my boxers and a tank top that looks like it’s going to fall apart any second.”

“Stiles, it doesn’t matter.”

“What, are you gonna just walk there, while holding a bag of your adult clothing? Hoping that not a single concerned citizen stops you along the way?”

“I can use the woods.” Derek speaks with finality.

“Well the entrance to Gnome Town is in the basement of the library, which you will have to walk through to reach.” Stiles crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow defiantly, “You wanna try that again?”

“I can break into the library.”

“It’s freezing outside, and there will be plenty of patrons in the library today.” Stiles moves to his closet, “Try again, buddy.”

Derek’s cheeks redden with indignation, “And what are you exactly trying to suggest?”

With a grin, Stiles pulls down a cardboard box from the top shelf of his closet. He opens it to reveal child-sized clothing. He tosses a random graphic tee at Derek’s dumbfounded face and rummages deeper into the box. He plucks his matching snowflake patterned hat and scarf from the side of the box and digs some more. He withdraws some blue striped sweats aaand… from the depths of the box he unearths a bright red and tree-patterned winter sweater.

He holds all the items aloft with a huge grin splitting his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope! Bundle up sourwolf! Don’t worry, I’ll turn away.”

Stiles lays the clothes on the bed and turns around with a smirk. He hears Derek mumbling curses under his breath, but he also hears the shifting of fabric. Stiles’ eyes rove his closet and he frowns thoughtfully. He doesn’t have any kid shoes that his father deemed important enough to keep for future use. He then recalls a pair of yellow rain boots that sat long forgotten in the garage.

Derek grits out an “I’m done” and Stiles turns around to see little Derek bundled up in his old clothing. And if he were to be asked candidly, Stiles would have said that Derek looked absolutely adorable. Thankfully no one was there to question him.

“Hey, what about the hat and scarf?”

“What about shoes ?”

“Thank you for reminding me! C’mon.” Stiles grabs the hat and scarf from his bed. He also grabs the adult Derek clothes that were carefully folded on the edge of his bed and flies down the stairs.

Derek follows and forces out a small, “Thank you. I can actually walk without tripping over myself now.”

“Aww, you’re welcome. Glad to be of service.” Stiles puts the clothes on the kitchen table and opens the door leading into the garage. Sure enough, the pair of yellow rain boots are still there under the rake and years of debris. He shakes various bug carcasses out of the boots and presents them to Derek with a flourish.

“Your shoes, my liege.”

“Shut up.” But Derek takes the shoes and pulls them on. “ Now can we go?”

“Tsk tsk, you gotta put the hat and scarf on.”

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

“Nice of you to completely ignore the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself into this kind of predicament again . And besides, I’m not about to go around town and have the good people of Beacon Hills thinking that I’m some kind of a child abuser .”

Stiles pulls on the hat and holds the scarf out to Derek. He relents and lets Stiles wind the scarf around his neck, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“There we go, that wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Whatever, can we go sometime today?”

“Yeah yeah, lemme grab my keys and wallet.” Stiles grabs those as well as a plastic bag for Derek’s clothes.

The drive across town to the library is awkward.

Stiles knows that Derek is still omitting something about his encounter earlier, and he’s pretty sure that Derek knows that he knows. He frets at a few stoplights, trying to find the right words to figure out why Derek was being so cagey about this whole encounter.

Stiles thought that they were past this pettiness, they’ve worked together for many years at this point, and he even tentatively considered them to be friends. But this evasiveness and unwillingness to be open about things was just like the early days of their… well, it wasn’t even an acquaintanceship, they barely tolerated each other.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Well I wasn’t aware that this beetle granted you mind reading powers, unless you had mind reading powers as a kid and lost that ability with age.”

“No, I mean…” Derek sighs and looks out the side window. He twists his fingers into the fabric of the sweater. “I know that I’ve been weirdly unspecific about this whole thing.”

“Ha! Yeah, you think?” Stiles scoffs.

“It’s because I wanted to make sure that you weren’t affected.”

“Affected? By a beetle that you accidentally stepped on on the other side of town?” Stiles snorts, “Derek, c’mon. I thought we were past this.”

“We are , it’s just... I didn’t step on the beetle on accident.” He trails off into whisper at the end of the sentence, but Stiles heard clear enough.

“What do you mean it wasn’t on accident?” Stiles blinks, trying to make sense of the new information, “Your super sniffer should have told you that that beetle was magical, right? You should’ve known that stepping on some random magical being would have had some sort of consequence!”

“I knew that it was something.” Derek slumps in his seat and grumbles.

“ Something ? Derek, just tell me, stop this omission bullshit.” Stiles says with irritation.

“It smelled like one of the nogitsune’s flies to me. Which worried me.” Derek huffs, “There you go.”

Stiles stills at that. Even with what Derek just said, he still notices the strange amount of apprehension around the words. “And?”

“And what else? Do you want me to tell you how it made me worried about you? How scared I was about you getting hurt again? What do you want me to say, Stiles?” Derek’s voice raises in volume and he turns towards Stiles full bodily.

Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and pulls over to park. He blinks and shakes his head, trying to process what Derek just said. He turns his head towards Derek. Derek’s face is red and blotchy, his eyes are huge and have tears beading at the corners. His lower lip is quivering as his eyebrows stay aggressively furrowed.

“Well!?” A couple of the tears escape and stream down his round cheeks.

Combined with the teary eyed child in his car and his brain’s gears finally working, Stiles is astonished by his revelation.

“Oh my god, you care about me.”

“Wh-w- YES ! I thought that was obvious!” Derek responds emphatically.

“No, you really care about me. Scott said that you wanted to stay behind, and that you’re not ‘glarey’ around me.” Stiles rests his forehead against his steering wheel, “Oh sweet Jesus.”

“Stiles, I’m so sorry.” Derek speaks carefully, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”

Derek sighs, “Now that I know, I can work on getting over you. I’d like if we could still be friends, despite this.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Stiles takes a shuddering breath, “Did I say at any moment, that I didn’t feel the same?” Derek’s eyes widen at this. Stiles continues speaking and mumbling his thoughts under his breath, “I’m going to kill Scott. There’s probably not even a real feral wendigo is there?”

He stops suddenly, and grabs the plastic bag of clothes as well as a single chocolate gold coin from his cup holder. “Nope, I’m not having this conversation with you while you look like a third grader. C’mon.”

Derek blinks as Stiles owlishly, and hastily wipes the drying tears from his face. Stiles slides out of the car and goes around to open the door for Derek. Derek hops down and meekly tugs at the edge of the sweater, Stiles locks the car and holds out his free hand. Derek looks up at Stiles and smiles tentatively.

This isn’t exactly how Stiles imagined holding hands with Derek this holiday season, but it was still nice in a strange way.

The two of them enter the library and nod at the employees at the circulation desk. Stiles guides Derek through the stacks to the back of the building to the once carefully sealed door leading to the basement. He nudges the door open with his hip after making sure there were no onlookers, and the two of them descend into the dark depths of the library.

They carefully navigate the dark and dusty stacks of the basement and find the sealed entrance to the old subway platform. Or at least that’s how it appeared, Derek and Stiles pass through the disguised archway and enter a warmly lit platform. Standing before them were four gnome guards wearing what looked like armor made out of reptilian skin seated around a small table playing some sort of card game.

The gnomes look up from the table at the sound of Stiles and Derek entering the vestibule.

"Ey wouldja look at dis, dose humans are back." The gnome seated facing them calls out.

"Aye, I see dem." Says the gnome to his left.

"Dat were one seems to 'ave used an emerald beetle. But he didn't pass through here, right?" Says the one to his right. The fourth gnome nods silently in agreement.

The first gnome stands and grins with broken teeth, "Dey prolly need demselves a ruby beetle, amiright?"

Stiles takes this moment to speak, "Yes, yes that's why we're here. It seems as though an emerald beetle wandered off, and my friend here stepped on it."

"A were shoulda been able to whiff out oneuva our beetles." The left one speaks with an incredulous tone.

"Yes, he did, but he mistook it for another kinda magic. Easy mistake to make. Now could we get one of those ruby beetles to go, or is it dine-in only?"

"Stiles..." Derek hisses under his breath, his hand tightening around Stiles' infinitesimally.

The first gnome steps around the table and waddles towards them. "Sure sure, dats an easy mistake. But mistakes come at a price..." The gnome grins and holds out an empty palm.

"Show me the beetle first."

"Show me whatcha gon' give me for da beetle."

Stiles pulls the chocolate gold coin and a pair of clear red plastic dice from his pocket, while simultaneously the gnome buries his hand into his pocket and withdraws a closed fist.

“This is so dumb.” Derek whispers to Stiles.

“Shut up .” Stiles whispers back.

The gnome to the right pipes up, “On dee count a three…”

Stiles maintains eye contact with the first gnome as the right gnome counts down, “One… two… three !”

In the leather covered palm of the gnome lay a glittering and bright red beetle. In Stiles’ hand lay the chocolate gold coin and the red dice from the Scott’s game of Aggravation that he happened to have stowed away in his pocket.

The gnome’s eyes glitter at the sight of Stiles’ offering. “Dose are some lovely lookin’ dice you’ve got dere, you sure you wanna part with such a lovely item?”

Stiles falters, but quickly nods, “Oh I know, I will miss them so much. They’re really so lovely, aren’t they, Derek?” Derek nods dumbly, “Now then, if I give you these beloved dice, and my golden coin here, will that be enough for the ruby beetle?”

The main gnome turns back to the other three and they snicker conspiratorially. “Ye, take the damned beetle. Gimme dose dice already!”

Stiles gives the gnomes a withering smile as they trade. The gnomes cackle with glee as the main gnome returns to the table with his spoils.

“Let’s get outta here, Derek…” Stiles leads the two of them back into the library basement, the echoes of the gnomes cackling and the clattering of sound of the dice upon the table follows them.

Derek steps out of the bathroom sheepishly holding the plastic bag of clothes out to Stiles. “I think my shoes should be around the back of the building still…”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me to go grab them while you were doing your beetle mumbo jumbo, presto change-o?”

Derek reflexively responds with a “Don’t call me dude.” But then he coughs awkwardly, “I… I didn’t want you too far away.”

“Aww… you’re such a sap.” Stiles takes the plastic bag from Derek’s outstretched hand, and takes the now empty hand into his opposite one.

“Let’s go get your shoes. I’m pretty sure the cafe has a no shoes, no shirt, no service policy.”

“Cafe?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not waiting a moment longer to take you out on a date. If you’ll have me of course.” Stiles hesitates for a split second as Derek’s silence draws out. “Der?”

Derek blinks, but a gentle, sincere smile works its way across his face. “Of course.”

Stiles returns the smile with a sincere one of his own. A mischievous glint enters his eyes, “By the way… did I mention what an adorable kid you made?”

“ Stiles …”

“ So cute. I should’ve taken pictures when I had the chance!”

“Nevermind, this was a terrible idea. I’m going home.”

“Wait, Derek!”

“This is a library, Stiles. Please keep your voice down.”

“ Derek… ”

“Nope. Stop following me.”

“C’mon, lemme treat you.”

“ No .”

“But baby it’s cold outside!”

“I’m done here.”

[vampireqrow-moved]

what's ur opinion onnnn.... garden gnomes, my new idea to grow my hair out just long enough to tie up, and uhh jay >:)

I think garden gnomes are criminally underrated. Their creepiness in perfect taste for this hellsite but we don’t talk about them enough. They’re like.. 2% less haunted than dolls and I think Hollywood should jump on that. In another world I’d want a garden gnome collection. Love those little guys.

I saw ur post about it!!! I think you should!! Watch us swap hairstyles asalkjd But you should definitely try it out! I’ve been wanting short hair for years and finally did and?? how did no one explain how epic it is ??  also i think the post has an undercut but that’s a huge recommendation from me!! I might just have thick hair but long hair is so much worse to manage without an undercut and undercuts in general are sexy as fuck. Also u know I had a big thing about having my hair up but it was actually really nice I just have trauma brain that does stupid shit 😔😔

JAY!!! king!! i love jay a lot!!! i love talking to him and i love that we accidentally become the same person sometimes but i still think he was wrong about egg man in a hat. (also i never answered your tags but i’ll marry you if u divorce jay /j) i think you two need to take better care of your kids but i blame both of you for that :/ I don’t really understand Star Wars but I trust him to know everything and have great opinions and taste. we never started watching hannibal together :( but there’s time and i made sure to look up stuff for the first few episodes so i could warn him for certain stuff but i forgot to tell him 😔😔 ALSO i stand by watching alta together- u should tell me what ep you watched up to so i can catch up and join you 👀👀 also!!! we should do an rpg together sometime 😳😳😳😳

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG a friend just got ungrounded and i wanted to fill them in on current events. which we have a lot of

“your opinion on __”

[medea10]

Medea Plays Animal Crossing New Horizons: Part III

Man dude, how you gonna wreck my perfect record with the ATM?!

Hey look, Mabel’s in town.

After you spend a certain amount of money or times you see her, she’s going to set up shop in your town.

In the meantime...

I’m getting along with my cheerful neighbors. This is my first time with many of them and they’re the most thoughtful...

Goddammit Maddie, why’d you have to get me a freaky-ass garden gnome?

Yeah, I’m not a fan of gnomes.

Get on with it Nook-boi. You know what I want.

That’s right, you do. BRING HER OUT!

THERE WE GO! Now island life is complete.

The gift that keeps on giving.

Seeing Isabelle first thing in the morning is just so...blissful.

With the addition of Isabelle and the new building, Tom Nook is making it his mission to make this island absolute perfection.

As soon as you get this feature, you’re able to build bridges, make inclines/stairs, and make your own town theme and town flag.

You know, I think it’s best I dig deep and do something different.

OR I can just do what I did in New Leaf and have The Simpson’s theme.

Yeah, this is The Simpsons theme. Have fun with it.

Although, I almost leaned into using Old Town Road, Careless Whisper, or Funkytown. You can find a bunch of youtube videos with samples.

Anyways, Tom’s biggest goal is to...

Yeah, that would be nice.

Speaking of K.K., my first night on the island, WHAT DID YOU PUT IN MY ORANGE JUICE, YOU RACOON BAST...

I want to stay mad at you for possibly drugging my drink on the first night, but now I’m just imagining Tom Nook in a karaoke bar with a drink in hand and a necktie around his head.

So let’s christen this new building and...

*sighs*

No originality to be found with me.

Oh well, I still love my Homer flag.

Damn Isabelle, sleeping on the job already.

And now Part IV of Medea vs. Evil Fucking Tarantulas.

Hey, I’m getting better at this!

Ah, feels like old times.

Wow, that was fast! Like...2 days?

Thankfully, you don’t have to fetch materials again since there’s enough material left from building Timmy and Tommy’s store. It’s just gonna take another two days.

OH, IT’S SUNDAY!

Oh, she’s so adorable. Especially when she was trying to remember everything her gram-gram told her to say.

And yes, I was right. Daisy Mae was trending on Twitter.

Rightfully so.

Just look at her! She’s the perfect hybrid of a Swinub and a Cubchoo.

Hey, I found Mr. Resetti.

Forgot to mention, with the new building comes a bunch of new crap you can buy using Nook Miles.

The next morning came with a few surprise visitors.

First, we’ve got C.J.

With my first interaction with this social media’d fella, if you give him three of the same fish, the next morning you’ll get a stand of that fish (in my case I gave him 3 sea bass). Second, he’ll ask you to do a challenge. Today’s case was catch three fish in a row that are smaller than a Surgeonfish.

After that, he’ll just buy any fish you give him at premium prices.

Oh, Imma get some moolah to pay for them inclines.

And my next visitor was a camper.

In order to get K.K. to come to town, we have to have more villagers. And in order to get more villagers, we need to have a campground so random passerbyers can come and maybe consider moving to your Podunk island.

My first camper is...

OH. MY...

HOLY...

Okay, calm down. I know you’ve been waiting for Olivia and/or Papi, but this is kind of a golden ticket.

Plus it’s a kitty. And I love kitties.

In case you haven’t seen Twitter recently, Raymond has kinda been...

That. He’s been that.

I don’t know if I’ll jump on the maid uniform bandwagon or not.

For now, I’ll let him be.

But he’s staying in Pallet.

YAY!

Sable and Mable are in my town. No word on Labelle...I think she might be much later in the game’s progression.

Don’t let that familiar line fool you.

Sable actually speaks more than Red from Pokemon.

I am loving their dressing room.

Yeah, this is exactly how I look in real life now. Except work doesn’t allow face masks yet.

I wonder if I keep talking to Sable day after day, she’ll acknowledge me like in the other games.

Back in the center of town, a new system is set in place for reviews of the town.

Yelpers.

Because of course fucking Yelpers.

On a positive note, I am now allowed to invite campers through the amiibo cards. I’m glad I held onto the amiibo cards I gained when I purchased Happy Home Academy five years ago.

Let’s have some fun with this system.

I know she’s literally right in front of me, but I have to see what happens.

That’s fine. You’ve got enough on your plate working under Tom.

Let’s see if I can add Isabelle’s brother Digby.

Worth a shot.

Okay, let’s be serious. Who can I invite? OH! I’ve got a kitty. It’s not Olivia, but he’ll do just fine.

So in order for an amiibo to stay as a resident, you have to invite him to the campground for three days in a row. AND you have to speak to him and build a DIY whatever he wants for all three days.

I’m sure Bob and Raymond will get along just fine...

Okay, got an idea. Give Bob a tuxedo and Raymond a wedding dress and have ourselves a good old-fashioned gay cat wedding.

Who’s with me? Yay or FUCK YAY?

As I head towards the final day of the month, I reflect on all the fish I’ve caught and those I haven’t caught. All the balloons that popped and flopped in the water. What to dress Raymond in. Lament on not catching a stringfish before the end of the 31st and now having to wait until December...because me fucking dumbass.

Time to say goodbye to March and say hello to April.

Yeah, it’s that special time where my island is going to have a visit from...

GOOD FUCK, NO!

I meant Zipper.

Zipper made sure to work out extra hard to dance a jig and make sure no one’s taking a peak at his backside.

There’s a fucking zipper there. What are you hiding, rabbit?

So we have to find eggs. Eggs are everywhere. They’re in the ground. They’re in the trees. They’re ON the trees.

They’re in the sky!

And even in the sea!

Collect eggs. LOTS OF EGGS. And recipes. LOTS OF RECIPES. So we can have an egg-tastic Easter...Bunny Day.

And when you’re out of sight, Zipper stops dancing and takes a smoke break.

I tried sneaking up on him, but he’s a fast fucker.

Back in the neighborhood...

I want Maddie’s donut.

Diva is still stylish, even on her evening walk.

I built a Sakura watching lunchbox.

I take pictures of cat butt.

Hey, that’s tame compared to the rest of the internet. So many bad and lewd things happened to Raymond’s asshole in the last week.

Look at him studying his flowers.

He’s a keeper.

Okay, I’m done for now.

To be continued.

[the-gay-cryptid]

DND Last Night!

Quick background: we’re in a town called Neiro, and last session was spent battling our way through a dungeon. We started this session in the tavern celebrating our success with the companions we went through the dungeon with.

Saffron drank something called Dragons Fire Ale from one of our companions, and she got fucked up

Our other companion was drinking something called halfling stout, which had the slogan: “makes a halfling feel like a wholeling”, which had us cackling for a while.

Saffron got into a drinking contest with a gnome, and had a grand total of 3 double shots of this ale. Every single one was a mistake.

Saffron: Another!

Jade and Soli in unison: NO!

“I can’t wait to see Josh’s face when he finds out about this” “oh god, he’s going to kill us!”

Saffron, so drunk she cant lift her glass: Vers...feed me the next one!

Soli threatened to never heal Vers again if he actually gave saffron more ale

Saffron got put into the special bag we made for her to ride in on Vers’ back.

Soli and Jade swore they weren’t helping him clean it when Saffron threw up in his bag. 

Jade, with fear: No one tell Joshua about this

Saffron, drunk and with damaged pride: you tell him I won!

she definitely did not win

Saffron stayed in the bag, just her little head poking out, and Jade fed her crackers to help soak up the alcohol

Saffron took great pride in the fact that she got this wasted before sundown

but then!!! bells started ringing!!! and we were told “He’s here!”

so we followed the towns people to the town center, and we were told to get down in a manner that I now realize was very much like a surprise party.

a man appears! riding his horse! Its our dear friend Joshua, who hasn’t been in this quest until just now!  and he gets charged by the mayor.

the mayor..we have seen in action only once. he is a buff old ass man in a wizard hat. Joshua tries to get away, and, for pretty much the first time since we’ve met him, gets his shit wrecked. 29 points of damage in one hit. we hear Joshua’s bones crack.

and then we find out that the mayor is Josh’s grandfather, and this was all in good fun, and his grandfather heals him. Jade, being the only one who passed her arcana check, realizes this old ass man is very powerful, and she is very afraid of him.

Joshua takes us back to the tavern to watch a fight, and then we watch a lovely show.

the show is a beautiful woman singing. her name is Rachel, and Jade met her earlier that day at a music competition. Except she was judging the competition, so Jade hadn’t hear her actually play yet.

Rachel, it turns out, is an incredibly powerful glamour bard. and Jade, as a bard and lesbian, is smitten.

and then Rachel came up to our table with a bottle of wine and asked “come here often?” Saffron, our dear, drunk, little girl in a backpack, tried to flirt. Soli fumbled over herself trying to compliment Rachel. and Jade was in full blown gay panic mode and as soon as she got some alcohol in her system, she was going to charm the hell out of this gorgeous woman.

and then Rachel sat with Joshua. and we found out that they know each other. And, thankfully before Jade gets any alcohol, we learn that she is Josh’s fiance.

Saffron swears to steal her from him.

Soli, very tired: “Please excuse the small drunk child.”

We all went to Joshua’s house, which is super nice, because this island and town are in fact owned by his family. joshua is a rich boi.

But now it’s angst time

Jade went to Joshua’s study to talk to him about how she’s worried about saffron, because saffron has been sickly and violent since we got to the town, and something is very clearly wrong. and then had another gay panic because rachel was laid out on the couch while Joshua was painting (our dm, who plays Joshua, then had to clarify that no, this was not a titanic type scene and Rachel is just keeping him company)

Meanwhile! Soli sat with Saffron in her room to keep her company and make sure she doesn’t get sick. Saffron asked Soli where we got all the items we came back with from our little trip without her. (because we gave her like...five magic items from that trip)

Soli told her the short version, which was that we were hired and sent back in time to get something from Westshire before it burned down.

Saffron freaks out when Soli says the town’s name. She insists Soli is lying, and she gets so frantic, she ends up running to Josh’s study to ask him.

and so Jade sees her run by as she’s going into her room, and joins Soli in chasing after her.

Vers meanwhile has left the house and has no idea any of this is going on.

Saffron is still freaking out, and asks Joshua the same thing, and gets the same answer. when Jade and Soli get to the study, she asks Jade, and when Jade tells her they went to Westshire, she gets even more freaked out.

And saffron shows us a picture she got. she got it from a memory camera in a shop in town. it’s of Westshire. it is burning, and there is an elven woman with a symbol of House Lyrandar on her hand, and she is clearly the one who caused the fires

We all promise, very ardently, that we care about her and we trust her and we will do everything in our power to keep her safe from whoever this woman is.

We stayed in his study, Saffron sitting on Josh’s knee, Soli sitting beside them with a hand on Saffron’s back, and Jade sitting on the floor, just watching over all this.

Soli began asking Saffron more questions, trying to figure out why Saffron was there during the fires..and very slowly coming to the conclusion that, given that Saffron told us she’s an orphan, and given we were in Westshire about a decade ago, and given Saffron’s age, it’s very likely she was in the orphanage. She then mentions that she, Josh, and Jade went to the orphanage while we were there.

and Jade notices something (and I redeem my shitty ass roll from the last time I tried to do this). Saffron, she realizes, looks not quite human. she can see under Saffron’s hood a little, and notices..Saffron’s ears are a little long for a human. More like that halfling baby she held in Westshire. (Screaming from me and Soli’s player ensues)

And Jade finally makes the connection. And she and Saffron lock eyes, and they have a moment of understanding. Saffron tries to glare at her, and Jade just stares back, completely unfazed.

Saffron admits she has a lot of secrets, and she fears that if she told us, we would kill her.

Soli and Jade assure the hell out of her that, fuck no, we trust and love her so much.

Joshua attempted to lighten to mood by showing off his painting of him slaying a dragon during out last mission, and was met by some bitterness from Soli who reminded him that, without her help, he’d have been burned to a crisp.

Soli and Jade took Saffron to bed and kept her company while she tried to get to sleep, and Jade sang the same lullaby for her that she sang to baby Saffron in Westshire

And then Jade laid in her bed and did not sleep well at all, because holy fuck, Saffron isn’t a human either, and she’s from Westshire.

Joshua, meanwhile, took out the crystal ball we got in westshire. we actually accidentally stole it from a dragon born woman named Raipora.

Joshua let Rachel know he was going to try it out, and to stop him if it looked like things were going wrong.

Joshua woke up in a cloudy void space, and guess who was there to meet him

Raipora’s a little pissed that he stole her crystal ball, but he explains he fully intended to return it, and even offers to give it back to her. but Raipora tells him she was killed in the fires that destroyed Westshire.

and now, if he will let her use him to see Saffron, she will allow him to use the crystal ball to cast scrying.

Joshua lets her see Saffron, who figures out she is being watched, and informs him and Raipora, though she apparently mistakes them for someone else, that she likes hide and seek, and she’s been winning their game, and then she locks eyes with them, and tells them that this is cheating.

she tells them she doesn’t appreciate being spied on.

and the spell ends, and Joshua is in the void with Raipora for four hours. He loves Raipora though, and calls her his druid grandma, and they spend the next few hours talking about divination and trying to manipulate the clouds in the void to become furniture.

Vers returned after getting drunk on the beach and questioning his life choices, and Joshua, now very thrilled, shoves the crystal ball at him and insists Vers should look into it.

Vers is less thrilled about Raipora. He is deeply uncomfortable around her, and just tries not to stand too close to her.

Raipora just asks him about Saffron, and she apparently has some investment in making sure we keep little Saffron safe.

Vers is not a fan of Raipora.

in the morning, Jade woke up early for the first in her life, and she and Soli hung out in the library for a couple hours. they found an adorable book of drawings made by Joshua as a child.

Jade found a book on the houses and did some reading on House Vol. Unbeknownst to the rest of the party, or their players, Jade has spent the past five years picking up any patchwork information she could find on the cult that kidnapped her, and she knows they have some connection to House Vol. 

She and Soli then get some breakfast with Joshua, and we realize that his hair looks really nice this morning, and that Rachel apparently fixed it for him. which is just fucking adorable.

Joshua brought a very hungover Vers breakfast, and Vers informs him he wants nothing to do with the crystal ball ever again.

Vers, Jade, Soli, and Joshua all convene in the kitchen to talk about the crystal ball.

Josh appeals to Soli’s kind heart, and tells her how lonely Raipora has been. Jade tells him that’s noble and all, but Raipora is creepy, so fuck that, and Vers is very glad for the validation.

Soli and Jade go to Saffron’s room to check on her and see how she’s feeling after the night’s events.

And Soli reminds her again that we trust her, and we would forgive her for almost anything.

Saffron looked over to Jade, and Jade told her the same, and that her feelings have not changed. Saffron questioned her, and Jade just told her again, a little more firmly, that, even now, she hasn’t changed her mind.

Saffron made a comment that Jade saw something she wasn’t supposed to see. Jade agreed, and again told her it changed nothing.

and Saffron took off her hood, officially telling both of them that she’s a halfling.

Jade, meanwhile, is absolutely giddy because Saffron’s been lying about being a human too, and as soon as the two of them can talk alone, Jade is 100% telling Saffron that she’s a changeling.

there’s a lovely group hug, because everyone’s emotional and we need it.

Joshua comes and gets Saffron to ask her about the what she said when he and Raipora watched her the night before.

Saffron apologized for what she said to Joshua, and is apparently very relieved it was him and not whoever she thought it was

they then have a stupid cute conversation about how Joshua using the crystal ball to win hide and seek is cheating, and Saffron will just know he’s used it, and then go hide somewhere else. and Joshua answers he’ll mist step to her before she can hide again. Just really cute stuff.

Joshua finds Soli and Jade and brings us downstairs to the living room for what, in hindsight, probably looked an awful lot like a seance. 

all of us, minus Vers, sat around the crystal ball and waited for it to take us. except it didn’t. it only took Saffron.

cue mild panic from Jade who isn’t sure how safe this is. Joshua assured her it was perfectly fine, and that if they got too concerned, they could just take the crystal ball from saffron’s body and she’d come back.

Saffron comes back to consciousness after an hour

Jade and Joshua look into the crystal ball, and we immediately get taken in

The two of them have a brief argument over whether Raipora is cool or creepy.

and Jade gets jump scared by Raipora in the void, and Josh starts making couches from the clouds again while Jade and Raipora talk.

Raipora asked Jade about Saffron, and Jade was not nearly as forthcoming as the Josh, and demanded to know why Raipora is asking

Raipora admitted she has some sort of care for saffron, and Jade, rather begrudgingly, admitted she was fond of Saffron

After some more questions, Raipora revealed she wants to use us as vessels for her spell components. She is incredibly powerful (level 20 druid)

 and then Raipora asked if Jade had anyone she wanted to see. and Jade just went very pale and very still. (Out of character, i was repeatedly yelling “fuck!” because the person playing Raipora isn’t even our regular dm, and she has no idea how perfect that was, and I can’t even tell her because  s p o i l e r s)

Jade finally collects herself and tells Raipora, very shakily, that she doesn’t want to see anyone right now, and she would prefer to never need to see someone, but it’s pretty damn obvious there’s someone she wants to see, but cant ask about while Joshua is still around to hear.

So Jade just promises to keep Saffron safe, as per Raipora’s request, and they’re sent back to their bodies after Raipora makes some comment about Saffron being useful

Joshua is in a great mood.

Jade is shaken and a little bit furious, but Saffron is a sweetheart and tried to comfort her.

And then it’s Soli’s turn to visit druid grandma!

Joshua tries to go back again, but Raipora refuses, telling him that she needs to speak to Soli alone.

there’s a lot of half formed furniture, because Josh is still figuring out how to manipulate the void. Raipora admits to Soli she appreciates the effort

Raipora tells her that we each have a destiny, and that it is curious Saffron found all of us

and then Raipora asked about Soli’s feelings about Saffron, to which Soli explained she wants to help Saffron be safe and happy, because Soli didn’t get to have much of a childhood, so she wants to make sure Saffron has more happiness than she did.

Raipora reminded Soli that she has read a letter none of us have seen. a letter about saffron and the person looking for her. And Raipora made Soli promise to protect Saffron with her life.

Raipora greatly appreciated this, and told her “the Rootlock legacy must live on” and sent Soli away with no further explanation

Jade: so, what’d the crazy lady say?..She say freaky shit to you too?

Soli, absolutely full of shit and very obviously hiding a lot: uh..yeah..she just said to protect my friends and family

Jade, being the queen of minding her own damn business: eh, fair enough.

We ended session there, because we got a lot done, and it was getting late. so that was absolutely amazing, and Jade is super ready to tell Saffron some shit now, and she still has so many questions. this got kinda long, sorry! 😅😅😅