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waywardxwords · 11 months

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The Fix - Part Six

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Language, maybe some fluff *eye emoji*

Word Count: ~4.3k

Beau had called the FBI as he drove to the hospital, and then again when you and Bailey were in with the doctor. Everything had checked out—Bailey was unharmed. She was a little dehydrated, but otherwise, she was fine. She was scared and didn’t understand what had happened. You had assured her everything would be okay, but didn’t know how else to explain everything that had taken place with her father.

You sat in the back of Beau’s truck, your hands held tight to Bailey as you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt anywhere?” You asked her as your hands danced over her head, her arms. Your eyes moved over every inch of her to look for any injuries.

“No, mama,” she said softly. “But I’m cold…and hungry.”

Beau heard her words and cranked up the heat in the truck. You thanked him softly. He reached for the duffel again and leaned back to say, “There’s a granola bar in there and trail mix. Water, too. Make sure she’s hydrated.”

You found the bar, the trail mix and water and opened the packages for her to eat. As she ate and Beau drove, you looked out the window. You weren’t sure where Beau was taking you at this point, but you knew it wasn’t in the direction of your home. It didn’t even matter, really. You were in a daze at this point and you were willing to admit that you wholeheartedly trusted Beau.

As if he could read your mind, Beau cleared his throat from the driver’s seat. “We’re heading to my office. They want to ask Bailey some questions.” His eyes moved between you and Bailey in the backseat. It was as if he anticipated your concern. “It’s gonna be alright. They want to try to see what she remembers while it’s fresh on her mind. We will both be there, and you’ll have eyes on her the entire time.”

It was as if Beau had stepped into your brain and carefully tended to each issue you had with this scenario.

“Who will be asking the questions?” You contemplated, silently hoping it might be Beau.

“They have an agent coming who works with kids,” he explained as he made the turn into the sheriff’s office parking lot.

“You can’t be the one to question her?” You asked.

He shook his head before he continued. “Sorry, darlin’. The FBI is managing it from here.” It felt like you hadn’t gotten the entire story, but you stayed quiet. Exhaustion had overcome you, but you felt like you couldn’t truly rest. There was no way to know what else might be out there—or who, rather. So instead, you sighed as Beau shifted into park and turned your attention to Bailey.

“Hey, B?” You started softly as you unbuckled her from her seat. “There are some people who want to talk to you about your…” you hesitated. Bailey hadn’t fully understood what she had endured, and you wanted to try your best to avoid traumatizing her any further. “About your adventure…” you settled on the wording. A quick glance to the rear view mirror, you saw Beau’s gaze on you. He gave you a small nod with a wink. “I want you to answer all of their questions, okay?”

“Okay,” she answered easily. Besides being hungry, tired and cold—she had seemed okay, all things considered.

“Thank you,” you breathed with a smile. You stepped out of the truck first, and reached in to help Bailey get out. You clutched her hand tightly as you followed Beau into the office.

Before he pulled open the glass door, Beau looked back at you. “You take issue with any question or any part of all this, and you tell me?” His eyes were firm with intent, but gentle in his delivery.

“Okay,” you agreed. He nodded once and then opened the door for you and Bailey to walk through, with him just a step behind you.

Immediately, you recognized the man in a suit in the lobby as Matt Donahue, the FBI agent who had been working on Jackson’s case. He approached you with a serious look on his face, and his eyes moved over Beau just behind you. He looked less than pleased. Behind him, there was a woman in a similar black suit. She stepped around the man you recognized and offered you a small, but warm, smile.

“Hi, I’m Agent Stephanie Michaels,” she introduced and put her hand out to shake yours. You offered her your name, and shook her hand gently. “And you must be Bailey.” She widened her smile and knelt down just in front of your daughter.

You felt Bailey’s hand that you weren’t holding grip onto your denim jacket as she melded her body to your side. “Hi,” her voice was just as small as she was.

“You can call me Stephanie, or Steph…whichever you prefer,” she grinned. “Hey, I have some cool toys and coloring books in this room over here. Would you want to color with me for a little bit?”

Bailey looked to you for reassurance. The idea of her being anywhere away from you–even if you were in the literal sheriff’s office–made you feel sick to your stomach. Your eyes traveled to Beau’s. You looked to him for the same reassurance your daughter had looked to you for, and there was something about that which felt different. All of your life, you had always felt so sure of yourself and the decisions you made. When you first became a mother, you weren’t so sure anymore–motherhood had made you question everything about yourself, but with time, you had become very sure of your decisions as they pertained to Bailey.

Beau offered a small smile and a nod, and somehow, that was enough for you.

“Go ahead, bug,” you smiled down at her with the nickname you had called her from birth. Your hand smoothed down over the top of her head and rested on her cheek. “I’ll be just outside in the other room. If you need me, you just tell Stephanie, okay?”

She nodded and looked back at the agent before she dropped your hand and followed her into the interrogation room. As soon as the door closed, you felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat and your heart raced. The burn of anxiety crept up your neck and settled into your cheeks.

And then you felt a hand on the small of your back. “It’s gonna be alright, we’re going to watch from the other side,” his timing was impeccable. Your eyes found Beau’s with a small glance over your shoulder.

Words failed you as your throat had tightened, so you just nodded in response. Beau gingerly led you to the room that shared a wall with the interrogation room they were in. The room was dark, but there was a large glass window that looked into the room Bailey and Stephanie had ventured into. You knew the other side simply showed a mirror and Bailey would never know you were there. Matt followed you in, as well.

Stephanie had brought with her various toys and activities that a child would enjoy–there were Barbie dolls, baby dolls and coloring books. “What would you like to play with, Bailey?” She asked softly. You liked her. You didn’t like the situation you were in, but you felt safe with her. Stephanie was slowly shifting your opinion on FBI agents, and you realized she was the perfect person to work with kids in the line of work she was in.

“Um…I like Barbies! I have this one at home,” Bailey quickly reached for one of the dolls.

“Okay, great! I can be this Barbie here,” Stephanie reached for a different doll and the two started playing.

“Hey,” Beau murmured from behind you. “I’m going to grab a coffee quick, would you like one?” He asked as you glanced back at him.

A smile tugged at your lips. “That would be great,” you sighed.

“How do you take it?” He asked. There was something about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Two cream, two sugar, please,” you smiled, appreciative. He nodded as he stepped outside the room and closed the door behind him.

You turned your attention back to Stephanie and Bailey. Stephanie was currently encouraging Bailey to act out what had transpired over the last day through the Barbie dolls. It was a challenge–Bailey had a wild, but beautifully creative, imagination. You knew it would take a little time to get her to talk through what they needed from her.

Matt cleared his throat next to you after a moment. “Can I ask you a question?” He kept his eyes on the glass for a second, but then turned to look at you.

“Sure,” you hesitated, but knew he was probably going to ask either way.

“What’s your relationship with the sheriff?” His eyes studied you, his jaw tense. His question completely blindsided you, which was probably obvious from your furrowed brows and the way your eyes widened.

“Excuse me?” You asked him incredulously.

“I’m curious. Friends? Family? More than that? I’m just trying to wrap my head around why the hell a sheriff–an interim sheriff, mind you–would go through so much trouble stepping all over the FBI on a case that’s miles above his pay grade,” he was blunt. “Especially a man who is trying to prove he’s the right guy to be the permanent sheriff in this town.” You knew what the answer was–you and Beau didn’t have any kind of relationship–but you were startled by the question and why he would ask in the first place.

“There is no relationship between Beau and I,” you explained slowly. “Listen, I know he caused some trouble for you and I’m sorry for that. He was trying to keep me safe and find my kid, which–by the way–I felt like the FBI couldn’t care any less about. You all were so gung-ho on finding Jackson, so Beau stepped in to help me find Bailey.”

Matt frowned again. “While yes, that was insanely frustrating, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how Beau wouldn’t back down today. This interview was supposed to take place on FBI territory. He downright refused…he said we couldn’t talk to Bailey anywhere but here. And that you had to be present at all times.”

You blinked once, then twice as you processed what he said. Beau had fought, yet again, to keep you and Bailey safe and comfortable.

“He what?” You finally breathed.

“That’s why I asked. I figured you must be family or he must seriously care about you,” Matt looked back at the glass but you stayed silent as your mind tried to work through this new information.

Meanwhile in the small office kitchen, Beau watched as the dark colored liquid slowly began to trickle into the pot on the coffee maker. He found himself lost in thought as the pot slowly filled, but was interrupted when someone cleared their throat from behind.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Beau,” she sighed. Beau turned to see one of his investigators, Cassie Dewell, lean against the countertop behind him.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Beau looked back to the coffee as it continued to trickle.

Cassie rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the counter to step closer to Beau. “You’re really going to take on the FBI? The big dogs who call all the shots? Do you want to be unemployed?” She sighed. Beau’s eyes found hers. She was concerned for him, and he appreciated it. But the thoughts and feelings he had swirling in his head over the last day had made it difficult for him to think clearly about anything.

“My job is to protect the people in this town,” he said very clearly. “She just got her daughter back, Cassie. You want me to send them to some strange place where they’re forced to be separated? You think Bailey’s gonna want to answer any questions that way? I wouldn’t,” he scoffed but redirected his attention to grab two styrofoam cups from the cupboard.

“This is something else…this is different, Beau,” she dropped her voice to a gentle whisper as she watched his movements.

He didn’t need Cassie to say the words to know that she was right. “I’ve always been so good at keeping my head on straight when it comes to work,” he didn’t want to open up to Cassie; he hadn’t even wanted to address his thoughts or feelings internally yet. But he spoke on it anyway. “But this has been different. It’s almost like when…” he stopped himself as he stared at the styrofoam cups.

“Like when Emily was missing?” Cassie answered for him.

His eyes found hers again and he felt his throat tighten, which only made him somewhat frustrated. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Cassie. I hear you, I know I need to tread carefully but I also wanna make sure I’m doing what’s best for the people in this town.”

“The people in this town, or–” Beau cut her off before she could say anything else.

“They are two people who live in this town,” he said firmly. “And right now, they need my help.”

“Alright, alright,” she held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just encouraging you to stop pissing off the FBI, okay? We kinda like having you here. It would be really shitty if you got fired.” She offered a small smile to ease some of the tension their conversation had created.

Beau nodded and looked back at the pot where the coffee was ready.

“Thanks,” he grinned in return. “I’ll do my best.”

Hours had passed–the agents had ordered pizza as a late lunch (or early dinner, even) for you and Bailey. Bailey had given some additional information (it had just been her and Jackson on their “adventure”, she hadn’t seen anyone, and her father hadn’t treated her poorly but he seemed “different”). You knew that meant Jackson had been out of his mind while he was with Bailey, which made you feel sick again, but also thankful that she was alright.

Finally, Stephanie and Matt had determined there were no other questions they needed to get answered, and they said you were free to go.

Their words hung in the air as you stood before them. Free to go. You didn’t know what that meant. You didn’t feel like you could possibly return to your home. While you felt sure that Bailey hadn’t been exposed to any drug dealers or criminals, you couldn’t be so sure that they weren’t still going to look for you. With Jackson in jail, your brain had already processed that there could be people looking for collateral or to send a message. You weren’t an idiot; you knew the FBI would try to get Jackson to rat out the people he had worked with–they were looking for the big dogs, and Jackson wasn’t one of them.

“You alright?” Beau asked after the agents left. Bailey had curled up on a chair in the lobby–she was exhausted and needed to get to bed.

“Y-yeah,” you stumbled over the word, but offered him a smile anyway. “It just feels weird, you know? Just that it’s all over–like that’s it,” you sighed. “I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. It just feels strange.”

Beau’s eyes studied you again–it was something he seemed less afraid to do the longer you were around him. Surprisingly, it didn’t make you uncomfortable–you just didn’t want him to see all of the feelings passing through you: fear, anxiety, overwhelming worry.

“Listen, I don’t want to overstep,” Beau eyed Bailey who was quickly beginning to fall asleep behind you on the lobby chair. “But if you’d like, you and Bailey can stay with me tonight. You two can take my room and I’ll get some shut eye on the couch.”

“Oh, no Beau,” you said quickly, though something inside of you was telling you to say yes. “We’ve put you out long enough. I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask,” his voice was a low murmur–the lowness made it so much more raspy than normal and it sent a shiver down your spine so that the little hairs on your neck stood to attention. “I’m offerin’. And I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Truthfully, I would feel better if you stayed with me. Otherwise, I’m gonna be up all night worryin’.”

You nodded and nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes trailed over Bailey. You knew deep down you wouldn’t sleep, either, if you were alone with her at home. You’d be sitting with a kitchen knife by her bedside all night–and you hadn’t slept in so many hours, as it was.

“Alright,” you practically whispered. “If you’re sure.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he nodded his head in agreement.

The drive to Beau’s home was silent–the only sound came from the rumble of his truck engine. Bailey slept peacefully against your side as you played aimlessly with her hair. The sun was pulling down behind the mountains now, and you had to think about what day it was. It had been the most exhausting, terrifying day of your life. The only thing keeping you upright was thinking about how you didn’t want Bailey out of your sight for even a moment.

The truck came to a stop just outside Beau’s trailer and he shifted into park.

Very gently, you unhooked your seatbelt and leaned over Bailey to do the same. Beau stepped out of the truck and opened the door closest to Bailey.

“I can…” he hesitated and his eyes watched you closely before he glanced down at Bailey and held his arms out to show you he could carry her. He knew you had been in mama bear mode for a long time, and he wasn’t going to make any sudden movements.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you whispered back.

“I don’t mind, I just don’t want ya to claw out my jugular,” he half chuckled. Your cheeks reddened and you smiled.

“It’s fine, you can carry her in,” both you and Beau realized that was your sign of ultimate trust—like a cat or dog showing you their belly. You trusted him with your kid, and that spoke volumes.

He nodded once and very gently lifted her off of the seat and to his chest. You got out of the truck and followed him to the door.

“Uh, any chance you could…” he hesitated for a moment.

“Oh! Right, keys. Where are they?” You eyed his jacket pockets to see which one they might be in.

He cleared his throat. “Jeans, back pocket.” You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. You hesitated for a moment. “They won’t bite, darlin’.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

With a quick roll of your eyes, you carefully reached into his back pocket and pulled the keys out. “Sorry,” you murmured as you scooted by him on the step to open the door. You found the key and slipped it into the lock, opening the door with ease.

“I’m gonna lay her down on the bed in the back,” he nodded back to, what you assumed was, his bedroom. You followed closely behind as he gently placed her on the bed. “I think she’ll be warm back here, but here’s an extra blanket.” He reached to the dresser and handed you a quilt.

“Thanks,” you breathed as you carefully covered her up. You reached down and smoothed her hair away from her forehead. The sound of Beau’s boots retreating down the hall made its way to your ears. You couldn’t help but smile at Bailey sleeping soundly—safe. Your lips pressed to her forehead and you closed your eyes; she still smelled of the woods and the hospital, but you wouldn’t wake her for anything right now. A bath could wait. She was back, and she was okay.

After a moment, you followed Beau’s footsteps to the front of the camper.

You realized he had stepped outside and left the door ajar. The cool air from the Montana sky sent a chill over you, and you realized you still had on the denim jacket from the day before, a thin long-sleeve top and jeans. It would have to do.

As you stepped silently on the top step, you noticed Beau had started a fire. It wasn’t strong yet, but he poked at it to get the flame to grow. As you watched his profile in the orange glow of the fire, your heart fluttered. Your mind flashed back over the last day, and all the moments you had experienced with Beau:

The way he trusted that you didn’t know where Jackson was, but wanted to scan your place quickly to make sure he wasn’t there just a few days before. To keep you safe.

The way he dropped everything when you finally used his number to come to you when Bailey went missing.

The blatant disregard he had for the FBI when they said they had it handled; it wasn’t a power play, it was because he wanted to fix this.

The way he held doors open for you, made sure you were being protected (and when he wasn’t sure the deputies or agents could handle it, he showed up to protect you), the way he spoke to you when you shared the abuse you had endured, the way he stayed calm when Jackson finally showed up so you could still try to find Bailey, the way he touched your face…and in that moment, everything clicked.

Beau felt the weight of your gaze and turned back to look at you from over his shoulder.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that, darlin’?” He seemed almost nervous as he stood to face you.

“Beau…” your throat felt dry, but what you had to say simply couldn’t wait. “Did you push back on the FBI today about where they would interrogate Bailey? And make it so that I could be there?”

He was silent for a moment. He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed at the tension there to try and find inspiration on something to say. “I may have done that,” he said softly. “I wanted to make sure I could control the situation, just in case. I don’t trust that Donahue agent, and I didn’t know anything about the woman they wanted Bailey to talk to…” his voice trailed off as you walked towards him off of the steps.

A different kind of fear bubbled in your throat–this fear was around rejection or the disappointment of misreading someone, but you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood just inches in front of him, your face tilted upwards so you could look into his eyes.

“Who am I to you, Beau Arlen?” The words from Agent Donahue had repeated in your head for the last few hours, but you never thought you’d get the courage to ask Beau directly.

He was silent again, allowing the fear to boil at this point. Your heart raced like it had for the last day, albeit for different reasons. But then his gaze moved over your face from your nose, to your lips, to your eyes once more.

“You’re a mother–a damn good mother, might I add,” he started softly. “You’re a stubborn-as-hell woman, who doesn’t follow any kinda rules or direction. You’re someone who’s been through hell but you don’t wear a chip on your shoulder for it.” His voice was low and the rasp was back–you felt weak in the knees, but you couldn’t be sure if that was from what he was saying or the pure exhaustion that drenched you from head to toe. “And for whatever goddamn reason…I don’t care who I gotta go against when it comes to you and your kid. Including the FBI.” He added on. You swallowed to try and clear the dryness from your throat. He paused for a moment before he smirked.

You glimpsed between his eyes and mouth once, twice…and then without missing a beat, Beau’s hands gripped just above your elbows. He pulled you flush against his chest and you felt the warmth of his lips on yours. He pulled back after just a moment to study your gaze.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he muttered as he closed his eyes shut tightly, as if he had just made a mistake. You read his features and brought your hand to his cheek to turn his face to meet your gaze.

“If you don’t kiss me again, Beau Arlen…” your voice fell in a whisper as you teased, but your eyes told him you were serious.

Carefully, and painfully slowly, Beau’s hands found your hips and he tugged you to him before you both closed your eyes and your lips found each other once more.

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for reading (and for being patient--this one ended up being a bit longer than my usual chapters, so I hope that makes up for this being late!).

I hope I did this chapter justice. I would love to know what you thought! As always, thanks for reading, liking, commenting, and sharing!

New installments are posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays! Just a few more parts left in this story, I think...unless I get some crazy idea (which is always possible, hah).

A preview of the next chapter:

The fire had roared to life by now, with you and Beau settled on two camping chairs positioned so close together there was an overlap. There hadn’t been too many words spoken yet, but his hand held yours reassuringly in his lap as your eyes watched the flames and your bodies absorbed the warmth. The trailer door was left ajar, just in case Bailey woke up and called for you.

Your eyes wandered to his profile and you couldn’t help but stare. “Starin’ ain’t polite, darlin’,” he drawled with a tired smile. His head turned to look at you–his eyes almost lazy at this point.

“Sorry,” your cheeks reddened once you had been caught. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

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#big sky fan fiction #big sky fanfiction #big sky fan fic #big sky fanfic #big sky ff #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fan fiction #beau arlen fanfic #beau arlen fan fic #beau arlen ff #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x ofc

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the-solver-system · 10 hours

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MY SOURCE

not only mine but the source of.. about 10-15 of us..

Keep in mind this is combined memories of many alters to form what we can about what happened sooo.. some things might seem funky or smth

OKAY SO! Let's start with episode 1! It plays out mostly the same, though the pod is actually more functional than in canon. Also instead of Veebee (V) and Jag (J) coming back, N slowly starts coming online himself so I bolt. Then after that, Khan is given the choice to shoot or leave me. He picks up the gun and attempts to aim, but Veebee comes in and breaks the gun. N decides at the last second to spare me, stabbing me in the arm and telling me to play dead. After that it plays out as canon again, except at the end I kinda just banish myself because I’m an angsty teen angry at my classmates (and Liynez ("Lizzy") was a bitch right before then).

Episode 2 plays out the same I guess..? Idk.. I don’t really remember much.. The holograms were a lot worse though and sometimes I would get false memories.

Episode 3.. Uhhh.. Dolly’s parents are still killed by Veebee, this unlocks Dolly’s solver and turns her into a disassembly drone, but her appearance is still that of a worker drone. Dolly instead of killing everyone does something worse… ruin everyone’s reputation. Liynez is one of her friends after all, they basically send Rebecca in to collect everyone’s secrets and stuff, Dolly then blackmails everyone into backing down. Veebee is chosen prom queen, and Dolly enacts her revenge. Me and N barge in though, helping out. Instead of N doing the dance fighting with me, it's N AND Veebee. Then episode 3 plays out the same, except for me eating a whole arm, until the end where I comfort Dolly a bit before she leaves.

Episode 4 is very confusing for me.. Though I remember I used Rebecca and Darren’s corpses to like- freakin’ play dolls or some shit. Like “Oh Mr. Darren let me kiss you!!” “Oh yes Rebecca save me from my entire hell with you sweet kiss of freedom” or something like that. DONT JUDGE ME!! I also.. ate the teacher.. :P N and Veebee’s argument is the same, and episode 5 continues as normal. Until Veebee knocks me down, instead of wanting to try and kill me like in source it's kinda like that part of Intermission. Veebee sees her solver self and wants to try and help me, but then it returns to how Episode 4 plays out originally. N tosses me into the air and scolds Veebee. Both N and Veebee fly down with me and talk to me :3, the ending is also the same, except I don’t try to hold N’s hand. I kinda just.. rub it comfortingly instead.

Episode 5, AKA manor shit! This is when it's a bit more different, N and Cyn are basically swapped. N is the main solver host who is kinda creepy and stuff. I at first try to get N’s attention but after realizing he’s like.. reeeaaaaally not who I should be trying to get the attention of, I try to get Cyn’s attention. It works and episode 5 basically plays out the same but with Cyn instead of N. After the solver does the manor massacre, and like sometime after Cyn gets turned into a disassembly drone, the solver hops into Cyn. So now Cyn is the main host and N isnt, like in canon.

Episode 6 I basically dont remember except being slammed into a desk, getting bootlooped, getting to talk to Beau, and Veebee’s sacrifice.

Episode 7 both me and N are heart broken, Tessa pretends to care but it's kinda obvious she doesn't. Yadda Yadda basically the same stuff except Dolly doesn't get killed. N meets Nori, they try to help me. Dolly did get decapitated but since she can regenerate she didn't die, so she eventually joins in to help Nori and N defeat the solver in me. Then episode 7 plays out normally but with me shoving both Dolly (who somewhere along the way I declared as my sister) and N out.

EPISODE 8… hm.. Basically the same..? EXCEPT ME AND N DON'T DO THAT CONFESSING THING EW!! It's kinda like that but me basically saying “you are my son” instead. Jag is working with the solver but she was emotionally manipulated with the fact Tessa IS alive, just working with the solver as well. Honey Dew is using a fake Tessa corpse the solver generated. Oh yeah! Instead of Cyn in Episode 8 it's Honey Dew for most of it. Things play out the same except there's only romance between me and Veebee, also we kiss mid fight. And to be honest..? I'm not so sure about the end.. I think it plays out the same as source..? I have no idea.. I know during this part Honey Dew peaced out and got replaced, but.. I don’t know. I did get a Cyn stuck in my tail though. Cynthia! :3 But uhh.. Theres post canon stuff too.

Yeva is alive and is a core who was bunkies with Nori! She joined in later episode 8 though, like whenever Khan, Thadd , Liynez, and Nori show up. Eventually Yeva and Nori get new bodies, and also Yeva joins in Khan and Nori’s relationship :3

UHHH but yeah idk

I could also rant about how our solver works and stuff since its different from source..?

#uzinet #fictive #uzi fictive #doll fictive #j fictive #n fictive #v fictive #khan fictive #yeva fictive #nori fictive #lizzy fictive #solver sources #(new tag for whenever we talk about source stuff)

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shinygoku · 6 months

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Beatles for Sale (1964)

What happens when you've used up an album's worth of original compositions and your schedule has been absolutely jam packed? If you're this band, ya release another album, naturally!

I'm a sucker for the Autumnal Aesthetic but these lads were not having a jolly time amongst gilded leaves! Featuring George's hair at peak Onion.

This one is infamously very Cover heavy, but does that really make it one of the weakest instalments? I've liked some'a their covers a lot, though the originals often outrank them with good reason. Let's see how the mixture here fares~

SIDE ONE

No Reply: It may reference that archaic device known to older people as a Telephone, but this number is shockingly timeless all the same! A jaunty song about a relationship that has either fizzled out, or the POV character has been cucked without a formal breakup. Even though it is about ghosting and resentment, it's got a great rhythm and energy to it, plus I'm also very fond of the "Your Face" version from the Anthology uploads.

I'm a Loser: Another oddly catchy song given the introspection and distinctly downbeat subject. There's something about how fun the music becomes at the chorus, peak juxtaposition~ Harmonica makes a bold return, too! It's one of the most dance-able depression songs so far!

Baby's in Black: A clear narrative is stated here, of the Singer lamenting that the object of his affections is busy grieving over someone else. I get the impression that the mourning is in fact literal, that the other beau is dead and buried, and that we ain't s'posed to side with the Main Character for being a self-centred berk about it (but some of the AHDN songs plant a seed of doubt for the Irony take, given how there's spite and selfishness in those...!). Anyway, the song itself is serviceable but not as notable as the prev numbers.

Rock and Roll Music: Ah, our first cover! It's good and well played but I don't think our lads really bring anything to the table that the Chuck Berry didn't already provide. I listened to that right after and neither version lights a fire in me.

I'll Follow the Sun: This has a very nice, mellow sound to it, but it has a bit of the snag I found on AHDN's 2nd side; that it seems to be a "You're gonna regret this" song. The reoccurring "But Tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the Sun" sounds optimistic and hopeful but when it's surrounded by the passive aggressive sentiment... I will say it's possible I've got the wrong end of the stick [The prev album was an Experience lmao], but it does seem telling that this original number is like, never Iconic lol

Mr. Moonlight: MISTAAAAAAHHHHHH. Another cover but idk the original. Sounds a little more gay than normal, if they're gonna personify The Moon as a guy and declare their love for him :v

Kansas City / Hey Hey Hey Hey: I have a slight dislike of this just cause it took me longer to write the title out. So it's a cover, but of 2 songs mashed together? Paul is bringing his impression of a deeper voice and the instrumentation is very nice but eehhhh. It's not one I'm gonna go back to lmao

SIDE TWO

8 Days a Week: Finally some good fucking food!! A much needed injection of cheer, and while it seems the Bugs themselves didn't think that much of it sometimes a simple sweet song is a nice thing to boogie to.

Words of Love: Ah, Buddy Holly? Their idol and main reason for the Beatle moniker? Seems to be a decent cover of one of his numbers, while there ain't many lyrics the guitar and drums are very nice, though I could do without the clapping.

Honey Don't: Ringo's vocal return since With The Beatles! This song doesn't do much for me but the little flourishes thrown in like "Rock on George, for Ringo one time!" and fab guitar work have me smiling~

Every Little Thing: Annoyingly my brain keeps autofilling 'she does is magic' and then I find it harder to remember how this one sounds. But it's actually a stronger song on this here album, another Actually Pleasant one! The timpani has such a dramatic presence but for once I'm not concerned about the girl's safety like I am in other ones lmao

I Don't Want to Spoil the Party: This sad song is set to another jaunty rhythm that kicks into a higher gear for the bridge... hmm, seems to be the main thesis of this album, innit! Kudos for this POV feller to at least try being a bit more self aware. This ends a little bit abruptly, which makes it another shade different to I'm A Loser.

What You're Doing: "Oh babe you've crossed me and I'm gonna make a big deal about it in song form" song. I've heard lotsa these on this and the prev album!! But while I'm repeating the same sentiments about them doing that, I looove the guitar and drum work on this very mid lyrical assortment.

Everybody's Trying to be My Baby: Another tedious title! Another cover, too. George's only vocal on this one and I don't think it's great. I do like Rock and or Roll but the ones this album uses don't make a strong impression on me. Guitar good.

CONCLUSION

Best 3: No Reply, I'm a Loser, 8 Days a Week

Blurst 3: Kansas City/Hey [x4], What You're Doing, Everybody's [...] Baby

Overall Quality?: It took the 2nd side of the record for the first original song on the album to be energetic and sincere without slightly concealed bad vibes! That's pretty dang indicative of what the Burnout Album has to offer. There's a fair bit of mildly good Rock 'n' Roll, lotsa great instrument playing, but man oh man this isn't a Good Time Had By All.

But I must make clear that the good songs, are great! And some of the miseryfests are still catchy lol. Before I listened to all the songs I was ready to bat for this being an underrated gem, but hmmm, no actually it is a weak one. But I can give them the benefit of Early[ish] Day Feet Finding + HUGE MASSIVE PRESSURE being why it's a bit on the limp side. I felt more disappointed in A Hard Day's Night side 2 than with this, though my "C'mon dudes" reasoning is pretty much the same, and this has more Mid Covers.

🪲🪲🪲🪲

Well, after an underwhelming release like that and yet their fame continues to balloon bigger and bigger, would it be fair to say the Beatles needed Help!? ;3c

#The Beatles #Beatles for Sale #CutCat listens to Bug Music #Music Review #Not an April Fool's post #I like posting these on the 1st of each month!#I'm looking forward to Help! though I know some'a that is favoured by how much I like their stupid ass stoner flick lmao #I am not beating the Cover Hater allegations but I adore one that is coming up on Help! ^w^

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meancaroline · 5 months

Text

All I Wanted Was Sushi But I Got Abducted By Aliens Instead, by Petra Palerno

Ratings:

GoodReads Rating: 3.60 ⭐️

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Spice: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Purchasing:

On Kindle Unlimited?: Yes

Kindle E-book: $6.99

Paperback: $16.99

Length:

184 pages

Review:

When Opal is abducted by the Deenz, a hive mind alien race, she learns that she is expected to dance for the erotic enjoyment of aliens across the cosmos. Opal, though appalled, finds she has no choice as the Deenz give her a shot of "go-go juice", an aphrodisiac, to ensure her "enthusiasm" for dancing. She gets extra for trying to deny her captors.

Her desires piqued, she looks out the window of their transport bus to find inspiration. She finds it in one of the other cars. The car of Ke'ain, the crown prince of the Fi'len of Sontafrul 6. He returns her attraction.

Little does Opal know, their mutual cross-lane masturbation session will change both of their lives for the better...and the worse.

All I Wanted Was Sushi But I Got Abducted By Aliens Instead was a fun, quick read to round out my month. I really enjoyed the aspect of miscommunication that Palerno worked into the story.

But, if you think this miscommunication leads to angst and heartbreak, think again! It really only serves to highlight the differences between Opal, a human, and her Fi'len beau and these often funny mixups serve to reinforce Opal is not a fish in these unfamiliar waters. In fact, most of the miscommunication worked with the plot to help move the smut forward.

While I would not normally say it, Palerno's story is one in which the plot served the smut instead of the other way around. And while the sex scenes were well written, I would have liked to see more of the plot.

Without getting too much into spoilers, there were certain things that I would have liked to see from certain character’s points of view later on in the story. And perhaps those conversations and bits of world building and story progression will be present in the next books in the series. I certainly hope they are as I would like to see these difficult, uncomfortable, and perhaps funny conversations happen.

Overall, All I Wanted Was Sushi But I Got Abducted By Aliens Instead was a fun, sexy, and good foundation to start a series on. If you are looking for fated alien mates who built for her pleasure, you will certainly enjoy this book!

Originally posted on Lemon8 01/30/2024

#book review #bookblr #tumblr book club #kindle #kindle unlimited #kindle unlimited romance #alien romance #alien x human

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lavastories · 1 year

Text

The Votes are in from my post before the last post. My next good read will be….. *drum roll*

Psi

Now, I don’t know what to expect from this book besides that there is a side that is normal and another that’s magically gifted. I’ve done my absolute best to avoid any spoilers for any of the books in case I do choose to read them on Reddit, Twitter, Instagram, and even here on our home base Tumblr! I even do my best as well to not spoil it for any of you as. I drop little hits that’s possibly in the book and leave the imagination up to you in hopes that you also read it. But let’s get into some chapters that I read today!

Time Catcher

After reading the recently released chapters, I gotta say that my speculations were spot on! 🥳 I mean, I knew that they’d want MC for something. I was ready for this outcome but what threw me off was wanting MC to prove herself…😑 Come on Vesper, last I checked you need MC not the other way around. As far as I’m concerned she doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. And don’t even get me STARTED on the LIs. Welcome to a new beau to the plot: Lucien. And he is literally one sexy ass vampire. Sexier than Vlad…*coughs* I mean, I’m just saying. You gotta get a look at this guy—Moving on! What the hell is up Shen?!?!?! I get the whole going through the ringer but MC has been through some trails and tribulations herself. I don’t see her acting clutched…*thinks*—Let me rephrase that. I don’t see MC acting all that clutched all the time! Obviously, she get her secrets and pains. I’m starting to lowkey think if MC is an addict.🤔 Also, did MC get caught?!😱

Next up! Love, Sin, & Evil!

*sniffles*🥲 Guys, so much went down in just two chapters. It’s honestly a lot to process…🥳But, let’s break it down, shall we?

Okay, so during this read MC is literally dancing with darkness…LITERALLY! And let’s not forget about MCs boyfriend. (I don’t know who y’all chose but I chose Tony…like one does😤) And in the mist of chaos, MC lost him just like that! Just to save her. 😢I honestly blame my choices. But I’m coming up with some major speculations here. Hear me out: The shadow, phantom—or whatever you want to call it—referred to MCs boyfriend as a “third wheel,” indicating that it would get rid of him.🤔🤔 Now, you see, you don’t go getting rid of someone without an agenda. The Phantom doesn’t look like it wants to get rid of MC just the people around her. The Phantom wants MC but why? I also peeked that it called MC a “Van Helsing,”—mind you, you don’t go dropping that name around if you ain’t dealing with some real dark evil shit. Maybe MC carries this bloodline—the blood of a Van Helsing. In my pervious post I mentioned that it could have something to do with MCs heritage/bloodline. And looking here, the Phantom is dropping the Van Helsing bomb. But back to the main speculation: What could the Phantom possibly want with the MC?—it’s like the Phantom in some shape or form is becoming a LI—a dark one at that. Maybe, there is a dark love story or some prophecy that has to be fore filled or get backed to?🤔 There is definitely some spooky shit going on. And MC lost two people already equaling two candles being blown out. Obvi, I’m still piecing together the love, sin, and evil I’m sensing so far to the story. And this is what I got: The Love, is the romance between a Van Helsing and a dark being. The Sin, is the betrayal of both Van Helsing and dark being. The Evil, could be the cause and effect of the love and sin that were committed in the past, birthing something new and sinister. And let’s be real, Jonny is smart as hell because right now Mister-all-so-kind-professor isn’t looking all that kind. I’m starting to feel he’s behind it. Trying to unlock or free something. And he needs MC for that maybe?🤔 Or…his career was shit and he really need the win to prove that he can do better?😅 Either way, professor explorer is turning into professor WTF!

I’m all for the adventure but whose going to tell the princess that she’s part of the LGBTQ+ community? 👀 Someone’s gotta do it.

*Looks to MC*

Lavender: Are you going to tell them?

MC: Gosh! You catch two girls in the act one time and your suppose to break the new. *pouts*

*Lavender looks to the crowd*

Lavender: Someone’s gotta tell’em

*MC glares*

MC: You utter anything that happened in that room with Sue and I’ll have romance club revoke your privileges.

Lavender:………

*Both seats in silence*

#romance club #interactive story #readerslife #writers on tumblr

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undertale-writing-times · 2 years

Note

🌹 (valentine's day) for any lust variants you want to talk about

-☠

🌹 ROSE - do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?

Lover: He does! He loves valentine's day. He has been confessed to before but he always rejects them. Normally the monsters only wanted to 'confess' because they had a crush on him from dancing. They didn't know much about him.

Hearts: He thinks it's one of the best holidays! It's his favorite. He has been confessed to once or twice but nowhere near as often as his brother.

Heartbreak: It's still one of his favorite holidays but… it upsets him sometimes. If someone ever tries to confess on that day he will run away. It freaks him out most of the time.

Beau: She loves the holiday! She has been confessed to once but she had to turn them down, sadly, because part of her rules were that she wasn't allowed to date anyone in the underground.

Dreamboat: He has confessed to someone before! It uh didn't work out very well. A few people have tried but he always kinda brushed it off. He doesn't believe in love normally. He doesn't really like valentine's day very much.

Diva: She doesn't really do much for valentine's day and she always takes the gifts that people give her, she gets a ton of them from 'fans' but she's never followed through with any of them. It feels like just another day for her.

Charm: He gets much more than his brother, which he finds a little funny, but they don't really mean much to him. He likes it when people pay attention to him more than give random gifts. He likes the holiday :)

Lavender: Because of her and her brother being nagas, they have never gotten anything for valentine's day.

Streams: He has gotten SO MANY different things in his box from people who had crushes on him. A lot of money mostly and he thinks it's really sweet. He gets confessed to a lot but he doesn't really think that it matters too much. They'll never see him so…? He thinks it's a cute holiday but finds it strange how some people celebrate it.

Social: He also gets some from his fans and has also been confessed to. He always tells them that he can't feel the same but is very flattered! It's one of his favorite holidays though!

Homey: Man no lol. Nobody has ever confessed and he doesn't care about the day. It's just another one for him.

Maiden: It is one of their favorite holidays, but they have never been confessed to, or at least not as long as they remember. They don't really like the idea of it very much anymore.

Vestal: The idea of getting confessed to on valentine's day makes them almost pass out from being so embarrassed! It isn't one of their favorite holidays.

Baby: If he ever gets confessed to, he'll tell the person that he doesn't have time for a relationship. It isn't his favorite holiday, he doesn't even think about it much anymore.

Deary: She really likes it! She hasn't gotten many confessions or gifts cause of Baby being overprotective but she does get some :D it's one of her favorite holidays.

Sweetums: He says that he has gotten a lot of different confessions but he hasn't gotten that many. It used to be his favorite holiday but now valentine's day isn't anymore.

Teddy-Bear: He gets so many, a lot of people think that he's hot and want to be his datemate but he doesn't respect anyone enough to really want to be with them.

Eros: Oh of course he loves it! It's one of his favorite holidays. He's never been confessed to or really given gifts like that but it's still one of his favorites. he likes to see the love of other people.

Aphro: They've never been confessed to and they're pretty happy about that. The idea of being in a relationship has been a little strange. Valentine's day is a fun holiday to watch but not their favorite.

Venus: Not their favorite and they don't remember if they've ever been confessed to but they're sure that they've never confessed to anyone before.

Cuddles: Oh it's his favorite! The reason being most of his partners would shower him in gifts and he loved it! He has confessed a few times and a lot of people confess to him.

Astra: He's uh… he's okay with it. The confessions and giving gifts and stuff gets him really embarrassed.

Alioth: He loves it! It's one of his favorite holidays.

Cupid: He doesn't care for it anymore. It isn't disliked but he doesn't really care much anymore.

Pinks: He has never been confessed to and doesn't know what the holiday is -w-'

Passion: He has been confessed to a few times but… it never felt right. He didn't like it. Valentine's day isn't his favorite holiday either.

Desire: He enjoys it! Yet not really because of the lovey dovey stuff. He likes the free gifts lol.

Strawberry: He doesn't really know what the holiday is but he has been confessed to before! A few times! Funnily.

Beloved: Not for a very long time. It… brings back bad memories so he doesn't really like valentine's day much anymore.

Glitter: Oh X loves valentine's day! X thinks that it is a very fun holiday and enjoys seeing how humans have changed it over the years. X has been confessed to more times than X can remember. Silly.

Diamond: Just like her sibiling! She thinks that it's a very fun holiday and quite exciting! She likes to see how different it is.

Nymph: Ehh it isn't really his favorite holiday. It's cute and all but not his favorite. He has been confessed to a few times but he always gently rejects them.

Fae: Oh He thinks that it's a very enjoyable one. A lot of people order strawberries during that time so it's a nice boost in work. Other than that, he doesn't care much.

#I have too many lust AUs #undertale alternate universe #undertale alternate timeline #undertale ask blog #undertale au #undertale headcanons

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a-very-pleasant-view · 1 year

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Broke: Round 0 (Pt. 1)

Due to my pregnancy mod, Brandi welcomes Skip Jr. to the world earlier than normal. Beau is entirely unenthused by his new baby brother, he finds the toilet much more interesting.

As a family sim, Brandi is happy to have a new addition to the family, but she does worry about her financial situation and how she’s going to raise two young boys, and a rebellious teenager, all on her own. She misses Skip dearly, and wishes more than anything that he was here to meet their new son.

Once the baby is down for his nap, Brandi finally has some time to work with little Beau on learning to talk.

She worries with the new baby, she won’t have as much time for Beau. She wants to make sure he learns all the skills he needs before he ages up so he has an easier time than Dustin is currently having.

Many people see Brandi as irresponsible, but she’s a very good mother to her boys. She works tirelessly to ensure their health and wellbeing, often passing out in Beau’s toilet puddles on the bathroom floor.

Dustin arrives home from school with failing grades and Brandi chews him out. She thinks he needs more discipline as she’s let him run wild since his dad died, and that clearly hasn’t been working. Angela stands there awkwardly listening to the lecture, and Dustin is annoyed his mom would embarrass him like this in front of her.

Brandi tells Dustin that he has a new baby brother. She’s happy he takes the news well.

Angela always autonomously plays with Beau. She’s a very nurturing sim, unless it’s Lilith.

Beau just wants to hang out with the big kids. He really looks up to his big brother.

When Brandi puts Beau down for his nap, Dustin finally gets a moment alone with Angela. He wants to have his first kiss, so he goes for it. These two are so sweet together.

Brandi decides to come into Dustin’s room to smustle in the middle of his first kiss.

And as always with the smustle, it’s contagious. There’s nothing more romantic than dancing in the filthy bathroom with your boyfriend and his mom.

#Broke #Broke: Round 0 #Round 0

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ccthewriter · 2 years

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CC's New Watch Ranking 2022: #4 - Beau Travail

1999, dir. Claire Denis

Every year on Letterboxd, I make a list of the 100 best films I’ve seen for the first time. It’s a fun way to compare movies separated in time, genre, and country of origin, and helps me keep track of what I’m watching! This is a series of posts about my Top 10.

This was a last minute shake-up to my list! Something I wouldn’t have checked out if not for the Sight and Sound. It’s an incredible film. Beau Travail is a study of monotony. It’s about the routines that form the breadth of our existence, the rhythm that all events great and small step to. It’s about the pointlessness of a military existence. It’s not about the violence that can be perpetrated against others - that’s a military story for another day. It’s about the empty heroic ideal that drains your life, hardens your body, and leaves you with nothing but a tarnished medal and hollow stare.

It’s the best adaptation of the comic strip Crock ever made.

Beau Travail follows the life of Adjudant-Chef Galoup at the end of his career in the French Foreign Legion. He’s stationed in Djibouti, a remnant of France’s colonial empire with little to do but exercise, drill his men, and stare at the vast landscapes. He has someone in town who he dances with from time to time. There’s a captain he admires, who he shares silent meals and cigarettes with. There are his men, who he has to shape - he has to make them sweat, and pose in sync, and give up their sense of self so that they can move as a unit. It is incredibly homoerotic. The military exercises slowly transform into group ballet movements. Galoup’s girlfriend shares lingering, meaningful, lightning-tense eye contact with another woman in the club. So much is implied by the relationship between the character’s bodies. Even in the club, Galoup does not feel comfortable being too close to the women he’s near. He only seems at peace when there’s a few dozen sweaty buff men building a road around him. The military has made him a leader, and leader’s aren’t taught how to hold another person close.

I revisited Full Metal Jacket this year, a phenomenal film that also tackles the absurdity and corruption of military life. FMJ focuses on an empire still engaged in bloody imperialism. Its US marines are purpose-driven, intoxicated by the bloody fog of war. Beau Travail’s Legionnaires feel like astronauts on another world by comparison. There’s no reason for them to be there, other than the legacy of a few centuries’ conquest. Yet their organization demands constant training, constant preparation to commit horrendous acts. Without an outlet to express that training, everyone seems to go a little mad. Galoup is kicked out of the legion when he commands a soldier to die for disobeying him on a minor charge. Allegedly this is inspired by Melville’s Billy Budd, but I’m not familiar enough with that work to comment on the connection. His sudden removal from military life, the final few minutes of the film that show him lingering around Marseille, is what makes this movie great. The film has trained us to understand why the stays in the Legion - the pace of the exercises, the magnificent shots of the salt flats and mountains, have given us a glimpse into the serenity Galoup feels in this authoritarian life. There’s a transcendence to be found in giving yourself up to those restrictions. The troupe almost seem like monks by the end, with the way they dress the same, move in harmony, and make pilgrimages through pointless objectives. There’s a unity in that life that draws people in.

Galoup ripped away from that life seems tragic, even though we know the monster it was turning him into. He is free, and that freedom is its own prison. The life he knew changed him, inside and out, and he can never go back to any sort of normal existence. He isn’t hung like Billy Budd: he is given a social death. He is a walking corpse. And what does he do in that bleak freedom? In a realm where he must reinvent himself from the ground up, or remain a wandering phantom?

He dances. He loses himself to a stupid modern pop song in a dirty empty club, just fucking lets go, lets his body move like a branch rattling in the wind. It is beautiful, pathetic, triumphant, crass, drunken, and utterly, utterly free. The slow pace of the film, so comprised of lonely landscapes and group movements, suddenly jolts to life on this sustained focused shot of one man dancing by himself. I’m a sucker for a film that ends in a dance or party, but this takes it to an entirely new level. The dance is diegetic and well deserved. It is a final exuberant yawp of a soul trying to shake free of the corpse it finds itself piloting. To me, it is the promise that something new can be found even in the most desolate landscapes. We are never trapped, we do not have to be defined by the things we have hidden. It may take time, but we all have the power to change our worlds.

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

Thank you for reading! If you made it this far why don’t you give me a follow on Letterboxd, where I post reviews and keep obsessive track of all the movies I watch. Feel free to drop a line if you checked this movie out and want to share your thoughts!

#movies #film #letterboxd #beau travail #claire denis #movie ranking #movie list #cc oc

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Decided to do a part 2 (due courtesy of @an-ambivalent and @definitetrashlord for motivating me to even continue this series HEHE💖)

Pt. 1

Tw: manipulation, dubcon, language

It isn’t the cum that slides down your legs continuously, nor the black and blue marks that so obviously covers the expanse of your neck at all times, no.

It’s the constant surveillance you’re under, it’s the lack of conversation you get from your comrades, it’s the way you mold and shift for however he wants you to be that solidifies his hold on you.

The attack from three weeks ago feels like yesterday, the way he held your head up by your hair after he was done ruining you and crooned in your ear that you were his now, and you’d be suicidal if you continued to lash out on his godsent decision plays like a broken record in your head.

You can’t look him in the eyes now, only meekly staring at his feet when he orders you to stand in front of him. Sometimes he’ll circle you and invade in your personal space, standing behind you and leaning in close behind your ear, simply inhaling you and saying nothing. Other times when no one’s around he’ll lounge back on the couch with a beer in his hand, spreading his knees wide while he lazily orders you to dance for him, slowly stripping away your self esteem and clothes simultaneously.

He doesn’t seem to outwardly mind the silence that seeps from you anymore, now that he has your body and attention focused solely on him.

Even Tomura has stopped talking to you just for fun. He’ll try and make a snipe at you, fruitlessly expecting your once-usual comebacks, but all you can do is blearily smile at him.

It makes everyone uneasy how quickly you’ve been reduced to nothing.

You couldn’t leave even if you tried to. Your medical skills were too valuable to be rejected, and Dabi’s scrutinizing tabs on you wouldn’t allow for even a foot stepped outside if not for Shigaraki’s missions.

Even your meals are meager at best, mainly consisting of copious amounts of alcohol and shitty ambiguous burnt food that pops up on the counters randomly.

You feel dirty, like a disease-infested rat. No amount is showering from the dingy stalls, no amount of cheap soap bars wittled down on your body erases the feeling of being used.

Dabi has never been in more love than he has now.

He hopes you like the food he makes, secretly placing it on the bar counter seconds before you sit down. Sure, the food might be a little burnt, but it’s still your favorite right?

It doesn’t matter how expensive the shower products are, he thinks they smell nice and that they’d smell even better on you. Shigaraki can fuck off, he’s not spending too much revenue on his girl, it’s the bare minimum he can do to show you how much he appreciates you playing by his rules...even if he can never say it out loud.

And his favorite part at the end of every day is putting his surely-misplaced words of affection into action, where he can scream with his body against yours how long he’s wanted you for, how thankful he is to any deity that exists that you’ve been placed in his care.

Dabi might be in love, but he’s not stupid though.

He sees the way your body becomes more and more deteriorated, notices the small change of you hesitation to answer him, the way you can never truly look at him, how you retreat to his room more and more(your room has just become a guest room now after he burned all your belongings, rendering you completely dependent on him to supply you with scratchy clothes and feminine products, no matter how embarrassing it is for you). It’s so frustrating to him- you’re not actually doing anything wrong, but you’re not doing it right either. How long does he have to keep threatening you for? Why can’t you just be happy with him? At least pretend like he’s not the villain for once.

He just feels so passionately for you, a word he never thought would be used in his vocabulary. It all bottles up, and sometimes he feels like he isn’t expressing his feelings of love, jealousy at you not giving him enough attention at times, concern over your quiet demeanor, and wanting of you enough.

You’ve never been more broken than you are now.

If it wasn’t bad enough that you bend at his every beck and call, he expects you to understand his body language and cravings without him even saying anything, which is more so often than not. He just stares at you for so, so long. You originally tried to get up and leave after he dragged you over to the couch and plopped you down, but immediately stilled after smoke began curling from his wrists.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

You look at him incredulously, but his lids are lowered at you as he smokes a blunt. And so you exhale in annoyance and run a hand through your hair, closing your eyes to avoid looking into his unnerving glacial eyes.

It’s too bad you don’t see the big red hearts in them that break when you turn away from him.

You’re just so pretty, how can you expect him not to stare?

He tries to get you to do weird things too when you guys are alone and he’s not plowing you into the mattress.

Once on a cool winter night a majority of the League was out hunting for recruits. Dabi, you, and Spinner had done your quotas already-or,rather, Dabi had yanked you by your wrist alongside him through the dark alleyways, growling at you to “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. If I see you looking at any one of these trash kindlings I’ll burn the whole alley up and force you to watch”.

And so while the rest of the party was out, Spinner had mumbled something about needing to take a piss with a pointed glare from Dabi and you were left alone again with your...boyfriend?

He sits down on the crumbling leather and gives you a once over, not saying anything.

You fidget in place, thinking he was going to make you give him another slutty show.

Moments pass, and he snaps, “Well?”

“W-well what?”

“Are you just gonna stand there like some braindead bitch? Sit down.” He leers at you.

You drop into the loveseat at the other end, looking down at your lap. You can’t see his expression, but he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you actually slow? Get the fuck over here, it’s cold as shit.”

And so you scooch over to him regrettably, knees touching with his as you squirm.

He leans forward and turns to face you, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He notices you trembling and squeezing your eyes shut, so he stops midway.

He sits back again and as soon as you feel his presence retreat you let out our breath.

It hurts his heart to hear it.

You solely turn to face him when he doesn’t say anything, and he points to one of the grimy blankets strewn over the side of the tv. He grunts, and you catch his drift.

You get up to retrieve it, and hear his gravelly voice. “Get the remote too.”

When both items are brought back, Dabi snatches the blanket from you and drapes it over himself contentedly.

What am I, an errand girl?

He tosses the remote at you to your surprise, and you look at him with raised eyebrows.

He props his cheek against a fist and stares briefly at the tv.

You take your chances and press the on button on the remote.

The ancient monitor comes to life, and it takes a few minutes of scrolling through the channels and glancing at Dabi’s face to decide the appropriate one to watch. You settle on some old slasher finally after seeing the scowl on his face lessen at the sight of a rusted blade chopping through some guy’s shoulders.

It’s weird to be sitting there with your bully-turned-beau, watching a horror flick as if your relationship with him was normal. You’re surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet, it’s what he always wants to do these days as if you’re planning on leaving and it’s his last dying wish to fuck you.

But he does nothing except for sit there, gazing at the screen with unblinking eyes, bouncing his knee.

He wants you near him.

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Why do you think he even sat you next to him with a blanket and a shitty movie?

Dabi expected you to snuggle up to him the moment you say back down. It’s rather insulting that you haven’t so far, if he’s being honest. Why would a fire user like him need a blanket to keep warm? That was for you.

And the horror movie? The only reason he allowed you to put it on is because he wanted you to jump, scream, flinch-hell, do something so he can put an arm around you and tease you for being scared!

But you just sit there. Stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. Hands in your lap, back straight up, it bothers him that you’re not relaxing around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You jump at the break in silence.

Indeed it is cold, the chilly winter draft seeping through the crumbling foundations of the old bar. But you’d resist, not wanting to know where he was going with this.

“Uh, no, I’m good thanks.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re literally shaking cold, doll. Come here.”

You turn to him beseechingly, very much not wanting to prolong this. “Dabi...”

You’re met with an icy glare.

And so you begrudgingly scoot closer to him, barely a few inches away. Gingerly picking up the corner of the blanket, you place it over your lap in a faux effort to warm yourself.

Dabi rolls his eyes when he sees this, and pulls you by your arms to fall against his chest.

You gasp lightly at how warm his torso is, and can’t help the shiver that passes over you.

Unable to stop yourself from chasing the warmth amidst the cold night, you huddle closer to him, pressing your palms against his chest to feel more of his heat.

He looks down at your head and gives the slightest twitch of his lips.

His heart swells, and he hopes you don’t hear how embarrassingly loud it’s pounding against your hands.

You slowly start melting in his hold, shifting your leg up adjoining his to seek out more heat, and it makes his cock twitch slightly. He likes you like this: pliant, easy, comfortable. He just wishes you’d talk more, and with less of that apprehension and fear in your eyes

Some minutes pass, the slasher fic having been ended and changing to a rom-com. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he saw one of those. It must have been back when he was Touya, back when his mom would bake his favorite cookies and him and Fuyumi-chan and Natsu would chase each other around-

You stir in his arms, mumbling a bit from dozing off. Dabi gazes at you, wondering when the day would be when you bake him his favorite meals, when he gets to chase you around and make you giggle instead of chasing you like prey and making you scream.

He rubs up and down you arms soothingly with hot palms as you murmur and begin to wake up. You sit up from his chest and rub your eyes, yawning widely all the while.

It’s only when you focus on him smirking down at you that you jump back as if you’ve been electrocuted.

His smile drops at that.

You scowl at his proximity, mentally face-palming at how you could’ve been lulled to sleep so easily by this dickhead. It wasn’t even that cold, how could you have warmed up so easily to him?

A blast of icy air seemingly coming from nowhere settled over your bones and you shivered violently, rubbing your arms that were warm a minute ago.

Okay, maybe it was a bit cold. But you’d be damned if you willingly became vulnerable for him any more than you had to.

“Is someone tired?” He teased, his white teeth gleaming with his sickening grin.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you mutter and avert your eyes, getting up to go upstairs.

“Good idea, I think I’ll come too.” You don’t need to turn around to hear the smug laughter in his voice, knowing full well that he was making fun of you.

You grumble and stalk upstairs with him right at your heels. At one point he lifts his gaze just to see your cute ass sashaying side-to-side with every step you took up.

He can’t help himself when he reaches a hand out and squeezes the flesh there, causing you to yelp and shoot up the stairs even faster.

Dabi shakes his head and snickers to himself, beelining after you to his quarters.

It’s a medium size-room, not meant for two people but that doesn’t stop him from cramming you in here every night.

You’re already glowering at his sheets, yanking them back and getting ready to dive in when a sudden thought strikes him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He leans against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Comes your muddled answer from beneath the comforter.

You did not, in fact, eat anything for almost a day and a half. You couldn’t do it, your stomach was constantly in knots from his presence.

“Don’t lie to me,” his nostrils flare and he glares at you.

“I said I ate already.”

“Yeah? When exactly? ‘Cause if I remember right, i haven’t seen you leave my sight for almost 36 hours now, and none of that time includes when you ate.”

You stay silent, fuming underneath the covers. Why the hell was he so concerned about you? It pisses you off that he’s putting up a fake act of caring about you, just so that he feels less guilty about raping you.

He sighs and shifts to open the door. “Stop being such a bratty little shit. You were doing so well earlier, so keep it that way unless you wanna piss me off.”

Dabi turns the knob and takes a step out of the room. “I’ll ask you one last time before I choose myself- what do you wanna eat?”

“Eat shit.”

It’s so faint and muffled, but he hears it. His eyes widen marginally, his jaw clenches and the brass knob under his inflamed palm starts to steam and bubble.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said eat shit!” You throw the covers off and glare at him full on. “Stop pretending like you actually like me, or that you care about me. You’re a crazy fucking rapist, you’re not my father for gods’ sake, so stop trying to be this fake good person!”

The only sound around the room is your soft panting and the squeaking of bubbling metal. Then, it stop.

He steps forward, and speaks softly. “You want me to be the villain so bad?”

Another step forward, and you instinctively retract your legs from the edge of the bed.

“Fine. We’ll play your little game. You’re not leaving this room until I say so, or eating until I give you permission, since that’s what you wanted anyways. Wanna act like a stone cold bitch? Be my guest.”

His posture immediately relaxes, and his smug smile returns as he crosses the room to flip onto the bed.

You look at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns over and scrolls through his phone.

There’s no way he’s serious. Is he actually planning on keeping you in this room? You’re already limited to the base as it is with him breathing down your back, no way in hell you’d tolerate even more confinement.

Just to check his bluff, you slowly slip off the bed and pad towards the door, one eye over your shoulder to check that he hadn’t turned around. But the second your hand outreaches for the disfigured blob of cooling metal on the door, a massive wave of blue flames lash out mere inches from your hand and between the knob.

You scream and clutch your hand, leaping backwards.

“What the fuck, Dabi?!”

He says nothing, but continues to smirk at his phone.

You take a deep breath and are about to try to open it again his his raspy voice calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My nursing skills aren’t as good as yours. And even if you do manage to sever your hand and try again, if you leave then I’ll personally make sure Shigaraki withdraws all your missions here on out.”

You pause at that, cursing under your breath. As much as you knew he’d never admit it to your face, your leader needed Dabi for long distance combat. He was the second most powerful member in the group, so his word was scripture after Shigaraki’s himself. He would do anything Dabi would say if it meant keeping him in the League. You, however, were expendable at the end of the day.

Sighing, you trudge your way back to the rickety bed, grumbling under your breath. He says nothing, simply continuing to scroll through his phone as if he didn’t blast hellfire at you seconds before.

Sleep did not come easily. Even after Dabi put his phone away, he didn’t press up against you like he usually did at night. The empty space behind you was growing colder and harder to ignore.

You tossed and turned for a couple minutes, contemplating what to do. Apparently he was serious when he said he wouldn’t let you leave the room until he said so. So when was he gonna give you the all-clear?

Your stomach rumbled loudly, and you winced clutching it. Damn it. If only you had taken up his offer instead of throwing a tantrum.

Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes more of deafening silence save for your weeping stomach, you cave in.

“Dabi.”

Silence.

“Dabi, you awake?” You prop yourself up on an elbow and peek over his shoulder. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving too fast for a slumber.

“Look, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t listen, okay? I should’ve eaten when you told me to.”

Nothing again.

“Hey.” You lightly shake his shoulder, but no response comes from him.

You sigh in frustration, tapping your fingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, an idea comes to you, but it makes your stomach recoil in disgust and quiet down its grumbling. Desperation is a bitch.

“Can I make it up to you...?”

And finally, he turns around to face you, one cheek propped against his palm, a lazy grin complimenting his salacious gaze.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so earlier doll?”

You grimace in disgust, mixed emotions at your plan working.

“So what exactly did you have in mind, hmm?” He pouts condescendingly down at you, and you grit your teeth before letting him in on it.

“Um, well..I thought maybe I could...um, y’know, like..I wanna, um...” Oh god. This was more embarrassing than you thought. How are you supposed to ask your captor if you can suck his dick? Usually he just took you fighting tooth and nail, you never fully submitted like this before.

And he knows it too, based on the way his eyes gleam in the silver moonlight and shadows of lust cross his face while looking at your wide eyes and bitten bottom lip, your fidgeting fingers showing nothing but needing pure guidance.

But this isn’t supposed to be easy, he doesn’t want you to feel comfortable, he wants you to feel bad and make it up to him.

To give you a little push, however, he gives toga slight hint as he sits up and leans back against the rickety bedrest, folding his arms behind his head.

“So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart? ‘Gonna stare at me like that all night or are you gonna tell me how you’re gonna make this up to me?”

You look up at him, conflicted for a moment before solidifying your resolve. You shyly reach out a hand and touch the outside of his thigh, slowly rubbing and moving it closer up to the tent in his pelvis.

Oh, this is precious.

“What?” He sneers. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were pushing me away earlier, but now you wanna suck my dick? Make up your mind, babe.”

You wince and continue, not backing down from his mean comment. You knew he wanted this, he expected this from you. That’s why even though he’s spitting venom from his lips, his hips are bucking up into your hand as you stroke over his member.

Your fingers move nimbly up and down, around and under his thighs and dick, with him softly cursing in the background as he grows harder and harder.

“Stop being a tease and get to sucking. It’s what you were made for, anyways,” Dabi’s low voice comes out from in between little moans.

Your hand shakes a little bit as you fumble with the drawstrings on his pj’s, and he snickers at your inexperience. When you finally free his length, it bounces out like its on fucking hydraulics, precum beading up at the tip, his shaft coated with an intimidation Jacob’s Ladder.

He watches you lick your lips and he groans under his breath. You’re nervous and scared, but he’s wondering whose heart is beating faster right now. The hand which you use to hesitantly start pumping him is so much softer than his own, and even though he’s gotten fairly accustomed to your body and the feel of it, the sensations multiply tenfold when you do it willingly for him.

Dabi has half a mind to shove your head down onto his shaft when he feels like you’re stalling with your hands, however good they feel. He wants to see you sloppy with saliva dribbling down your chin like a baby.

But he waits. As excruciatingly painful as it is, he wants to see what you’re like when you do things at your own pace, and at your own...comfort? If you can even call it that.

Finally, finally after caving in from his silent flower you get the idea to put it in your mouth.

Your face contorts in disgust as you slowly lower your head and latch your lips onto the slippery bulb, hollowing your cheeks out and sucking hard at the tip.

Dabi hisses and juts his hips up into your mouth, furiously chewing at his burnt lower lip as he holds back a pornographic moan. He knows you’d be startled and embarrassed by it, so he refrains...for now.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tell you what to do, though.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it like an ice-pop. No, don’t use your teeth idiot. And fondle my balls while you’re at it, too.”

Instructions pour into your ears, one after another as you fumble around trying to satiate his needs. You’re clumsy, which makes it even messier and hotter for him. Various fluids coat your hand and the lower half of your face as you work on him, doing exactly what he says. Sucking and kitten-licking the tip, even going so far as to dip your tongue into the crevice of his tiny hole and rapidly lick up the massive amounts of pre bubbling up after doing so, spiraling your tongue down the piercings and on his shaft until you circle around his balls. Your spit helps as lube to slick up his dick as you pump your hand while nursing on his plush balls.

Dabi, of course, has a hand woven through your hair and randomly jerks down on your head when you hit a good spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to hold back from his way his body and arms shake in self restraint, so you know it’s time to finish things up before his control snaps.

You start stroking him even faster, squeezing a little harder when you move up on his tip and massaging his balls. The soft schlick schlick sounds echo throughout the quiet room, the rustling of his sheets as his legs move to their own accord mute the thudding of both your hearts.

You can tell his orgasm is about to come from the way his cheeks puff up and his chest heaves. Pulling away is futile, as the second he sees recognition in your eyes he finally does what he’s been wanting to do, and slams your head all the way down his length.

He starts actually face-fucking you now, all 7 1/2 inches tightly cramming in your throat. You retch and cry out around his dick, trying to pull your head back but he’s not having it; he pounds the back of your canal and you swear you’ll wake up with a bruised esophagus in the morning.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes doll, fuck, just a little more, you’re doing so good, my little cumdump huh? You love me, yeah? Of course you do, of course you love your daddy, you’re never gonna leave me you’re gonna stay right here under me like the good little girl you are-“

Filth pours from his mouth as white ropes leave his cock, your already-filled throat flooding with his seed and leaking out of your strained mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he waits for a moment or two, calming his breath down by taking deep inhales in place of his rapid panting. His breath deepens after a minute or two, but he still has an iron grip on the back of your head sealed so tight that the cum is trapped on the inside of your stretched lips.

“Mmmfh!” You cry out and beat at his knee. He finally looks down at focuses on you, squinting and laughing at your predicament.

“Aww what’s wrong, don’t wanna gargle my kids? Would you rather have them someplace else?” He shakes your head back and forth on his softening cock and more seed spills out over your mouth and around his groin.

You painfully pull your head up, and Dabi revels in how you look.

Teary-eyed, your hair a mess, cum and spit coating your mouth like a fucking whore.

You’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you have at that moment.

“Come on, clean me up,” he gestures to the mess on his body, and you grimace.

“Do I have to? I just did what you wanted me to-“

“I thought you were trying to make it up to me?” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

You sigh and try to do it quickly, ingesting the vile contents and avoiding his cruel grin.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you finish him off and flop down in bed, catching your breath.

“So, was that good enough? Can I go outside now?”

“It’s the middle of the night, where the hell would you go right now?” He fluffs up his pillow and pulls his pants back up, getting ready to actually sleep this time.

“Well, I mean yeah, but...you know what I mean, in the morning you’ll let me go out, right?”

He rolls over to face you, and you can’t decipher what emotion crosses his face as his position blocks out the moonlight. From his body rolled over, the light reflecting off the side of his head would almost make it seem like he had white hair.

“Who said anything about letting you go out?”

You gape at him for a moment, then chuckle nervously. “Come on, don’t freak me out like that. You said that if I made it up to you-“

“I said make it up to me, as in apologize for your bitchy attitude. I didn’t say anything about you leaving. You’re gonna have to do more than a shitty blowjob if you wanna leave this room.”

“Dabi!”

“What? I’m just complying with what you wanted. You didn’t wanna go with me, right? So, I’m playing by your rules.” He says simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

Tears brim up in your eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You turn over and scoot away from him, ignoring his scoff. But you suppose you couldn’t be too mad, after all.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a villain anyways.

#bnha #dabi smut #tw:dubcon #mha Dabi #dabi oneshot #touya todoroki #touya #bnha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #Dabi #dabi x reader

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

Text

Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all

A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)

He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.

You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character.

You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.

It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.

It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.

Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.

“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”

“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”

“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”

“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”

You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-

“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”

Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”

“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”

“Do you think he lives near there?!”

“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’

You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”

Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”

Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”

You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”

“Hell yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.

“Not?!”

“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”

Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”

You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”

“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”

You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”

You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”

“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”

“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”

You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”

***************

Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.

It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.

It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.

“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.

“Where’s Jean?”

“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”

You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”

The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.

It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.

“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.

“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”

You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.

You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.

“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”

You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.

“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”

He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”

“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.

“Don’t come here often, then?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”

You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”

He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”

“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”

“Really?” You look at him in interest.

He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”

You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”

You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”

Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”

He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”

“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”

He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”

He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”

You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”

Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.

He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’

“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side.

“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.

“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”

You hum. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”

His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”

“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”

“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”

“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”

Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”

He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”

“I just met you ten minutes ago.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”

You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”

The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.

“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

You smirk. “So you do work here?”

“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.

“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”

You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”

“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”

You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke.

“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”

Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.

“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.

You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you.

You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.

And now that includes you.

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #bucky barnes x reader #40s!bucky barnes x reader #40s!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #40s!bucky barnes #40s!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #40s!bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky barnes x y/n #hbc lucky in love #pianist!bucky barnes #💙🦾#💙🦾🎹#💙🦾📻#💙🦾📻🎹

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

Text

It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.” A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #The Mighty Nein #The Moonweaver #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing #things get better for him don't worry #he just gets mildly traumatized first #AO3 link in reblog

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theroyalsims · 3 years

Photo

ANYA LETS HER HAIR DOWN - CROWN PRINCESS GETS TOUCHY-FEELY WITH BEAU AT FRIEND’S WEDDING

The Crown Princess was spotted attending a society wedding this afternoon, and we finally got a glimpse of the usually closed-up royal relaxing and letting her hair down - literally!

Anya was accompanied, of course, by her boyfriend, Dr. Greg. For the ceremony, the pair looked picture-perfect: him in his tuxedo, and her in a blue dress with her hair in a formal updo, topped with a matching (and currently on-trend) hatband.

(Above: The pair was spotted leaving the church after the religious ceremony, with Greg in a tux, and Anya in a blue dress with a more formal hairdo.)

However, the couple went for a more casual look for the reception, held at a swanky and super-exclusive resort on Elisabetta Island, a few miles off the coast Brindleton. The Crown princess ditched her head accessory, let loose her flowing chocolate locks, and dabbed a bit of dramatic eyeshadow for the evening. The Good Doctor, meanwhile, ditched his coat and loosened his bow tie for the post-wedding festivities.

(Above: Inseparable - Anya and Greg seemed luck they were joined at the hip during the whole affair, holding hands and keeping close to each other. At some point, Anya was even photographed sitting on Greg’s lap! [see top photo])

The lovers also put on quite the show on the dance floor where the tipsy duo engaged in some serious PDA! I believe this is the first time I’ve seen HRH kiss a boy! Not even when she was dating Mario, The Duke of Lakan, was HRH seen engaging in a single smooch with the Sulanian royal!

(Above: Some dancing, twirling, hugging and a bit of kissing?! Anya and Greg hit up the dance floor and engaged in some serious PDA during the evening festivities held at a swanky island resort.)

A royal insider claims that Anya is starting that Greg just might be “the one:”

“She sees comfort and stability in him. He doesn’t care about her titles, the protocols that surround her life. He just wants her for her, and she loves that about him. With Greg, Anya is able to relax and be ‘normal’ without any pretences and lies. They’re both very in love with each other. I think Anya honestly believes she’s found ‘the one’ in Greg.”

(Above: The look of love? Sources claim Anya and Greg are so in love, and that Anya thinks the hunky vet could be ‘the one’!)

Wait a minute.

Stop the presses.

Does this mean we are to brace ourselves and start prepping for a royal wedding?!

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wristpockets · 3 years

Note

Can I throw some prompts at you? All fluffy but with potential for Deep Emotional Talks™ if that's what you're after. Anyway: 1. Essek and jester trying to cook/ bake for the first time (two rich kids who have never been in a kitchen while food has been made) lots of potential for comedy but also ways to explore the differences and similarities in their childhoods?? 2. Caleb and Essek teaching each other dances from their homelands, (I feel like Essek probably had to learn formal dances in his youth and absolutely despised them until he realized that dancing with someone you actually like can be fun) Anyhow, happy writing!

Thanks for the suggestions! Going with the first one!

(If anyone else has any fic prompts/ideas/requests feel free to send them my way!)

This kind of got away from me 😅 Ended up a lot longer than expected. Not going to spend too much time proofreading or editing bc this was supposed to be fun. Anyway

Essek is leaning over the railing on the Nein Heroez, a glass of wine in his hand. He can hear the party going on behind him - the rest of the Nein get together every month for dinner - but he needed to get away for a moment. He watches the moonlight reflect off the waves as he swirls the wine in his glass.

He doesn't notice Jester until she's right next to him.

"What's wrong, Essek?" she asks, her voice laden with sincerity and sympathy.

He sighs, takes a long sip of his wine, and says, "I feel inadequate."

"Oh no Essek," Jester says. She moves closer, until she can bump her hip against his. "You're so powerful. And!" She lowers her voice conspiratorially, "I saw the way you floated in Cognouza. You were faster than Caleb, which I think means you're even smarter than he is."

Essek actually smiles at that. Lets out a little laugh. "You're not wrong. But I'm not concerned with my power or intelligence."

"Then how do you think you're inadequate? In what way? Is it-" Jester cuts herself off, looking over at him while wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," he says quickly, his ears heating up. "Everyone else is so..." He looks for the word and comes up blank. "Caleb and I see Beauregard and Yasha for dinner quite often. Yasha will have freshly baked bread, or even cake. Beauregard works all day, and Yasha stays home and cooks."

"I think she's happy though," Jester says.

"I think so too," Essek says quickly. "Caleb works all day too, and I stay home and do nothing." He lets out a little laugh. "I cannot believe this is my problem. Feeling bad that I cannot cook dinner while my - while Caleb is working."

Jester's eyes light up. "Okay," she says. "Okay okay. For our next get together, we're making dessert. Me and you."

Beauregard and Yasha are hosting the next meetup. Essek had collected Jester, Fjord and Kingsley early that morning, to give Jester and Essek time to make dessert.

They sent Caleb and Fjord out of the house and set to work in Caleb's kitchen.

But when Essek takes the third batch of cupcakes out of the oven - burned on the outside, somehow raw inside - he's ready to give up.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," Essek says quietly. He floats there, uselessly, staring at another failed attempt at a fairly simple baked good. "Is this how you normally make them?"

"Hmm?" Jester says, looking over at him. She dips her finger into the frosting she'd been working on. "I've never made cupcakes before."

Essek turns toward her. "What? You've never-"

"Nope," Jester says, matter-of-factly. She puts the icing-covered finger in her mouth, tasting the frosting, before scrunching up her nose. "This is awful."

Essek deflates a little. "So we are currently lacking both edible cupcakes and edible icing."

Even Jester's smile falls. "I'm sorry, Essek."

"It's not your fault," Essek says. "We still have some ingredients - what do you know how to make? What could we make quickly that's simpler?"

Jester looks down at the floor. "I don't know."

"Anything," Essek pleads. "Anything you've baked successfully-"

"I've never baked anything," Jester admits quietly.

"Oh," Essek says.

"Yeah."

Jester turns so her back is to the counter, then slides down, sitting on the floor. "I know how you feel. I feel like I should know how to do this."

Essek floats over, then sits down next to her. He can't bear the look on her face. "Two powerful adventurers, brought low by mere cupcakes," he jokes.

"I wanted to do this," Jester says, still quiet. "I wanted to bake something for everyone, something delicious! Something everyone would eat and say, 'oh Jester, your baking is so delicious,' and then maybe I'm not just the girl who draws dicks on things."

"You're a lot more than that," Essek tries.

Jester nods. "I know. I just feel bad."

"I feel that way too," Essek says. "All this power and knowledge and ability - for what? What good is it doing me here, now? And I know it's not an either-or thing. Caleb cooks. Even Beauregard does sometimes. I've never so much as fried an egg."

"Neither have I," Jester admits. "When I lived at home..."

"I understand," Essek says, and he knows he does.

"It's just embarrassing," Jester says.

"Yes," Essek agrees.

They sit like that for a moment, until they hear the front door open.

"Essek? Jester?" Caleb calls from the entryway. "Am I allowed in the kitchen yet?"

"Not yet!" Jester yells. "Almost done! Fifteen minutes!"

Essek looks at her in shock, and she just shrugs her shoulders.

"I do not possess the arcane ability to create cupcakes," Essek says blankly. "And I am unsure of how else we might make a dessert in that time."

"I panicked," Jester says apologetically. "Maybe some of the cupcakes aren't so bad-"

"They are," Essek says as Jester leans over batch number two, tearing off a piece of cupcake and trying it cautiously. After a few bites she scrunches her nose, then spits it out into the garbage.

"It looked good," Jester pouts. "I can't believe cupcakes would lie to me."

Something connects and Essek can feel his eyes widen. "I have an idea."

Several hours later, Jester and Essek are ready to present their cupcakes to the rest of the Nein. At the very least, they look nice - frosting is apparently close enough to painting for Jester to have some skill at it.

"These look delicious," Caleb says, smiling up at Essek. The compliment in front of their friends makes Essek's cheeks heat up, and he's grateful his complexion doesn't let it show.

"I might need to get some pointers from you," Yasha says as she carefully peels off the cupcake wrapper. "I wish I could frost like this."

"Don't eat that!" Beau shouts, quickly leaning over to slap it out of her hand.

Everyone stops to stare at Beauregard, Yasha's mouth still open, the cupcake discarded on the floor.

"What's wrong, Beauregard?" Essek asks nervously.

"They've been tampered with," she says. She picks up Yasha's dinner plate. "These plates are enchanted. They change colour if any of the food on it is fucked with. A few crumbs fell off of it." She points to a few speckles of bright purple on the plate. "I watched the plate react to the crumbs."

"Tampered with?" Fjord asks. "Tampered how?"

"I don't fucking know, man," Beau says. "It doesn't like, tell me."

"Um," Essek says carefully. "Would a magical alteration to the dish set off that reaction?"

"I should fucking hope so," Beau says, "since that's the whole point."

"In that case," Essek says, shooting Jester a worried look, "then yes, they were tampered with. But they will not harm you."

"Essek," Caleb says, looking at him worriedly.

"It's just prestidigitation," Essek says hurriedly. "We used it to flavour the cupcakes and the frosting." He takes a bite of his own cupcake. "See? They're safe."

"But why?" Veth asks. "Surely it can't be any worse than that fish stew Fjord made us all eat last time."

Essek looks at Jester again, who looks resigned. He waves his hand, dismissing the spell. "See for yourself."

Caleb is the first one that takes Essek up on that, tearing off a piece with his fingers and tasting it. Essek can see Caleb trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. He eventually - with some difficulty - swallows the bite of cupcake. "Ja," he says, eventually. "It's not that bad." He offers Essek a warm smile.

"Well that's obviously a lie," Veth says, pushing her plate a few inches away from her.

"Sorry guys," Jester says. She's looking down at the table and looks absolutely lost. "We just wanted to make something nice."

"Have either of you ever baked anything, ever?" Veth asks, picking up a tiny piece of the cupcake and trying it. "This is awful. I love you Jessie, but who taught you to bake?"

Jester looks too crestfallen to answer. "Both of us are, ah, new to this," Essek admits instead.

"Maybe cooking lessons are in order," Fjord says. "I used to cook on the ship, back when I was getting started. I could show you a few things, Jester."

Jester nods, still looking down at the table.

"And I could teach you," Caleb says to Essek.

"That would be appreciated," Essek says.

"Okay," Jester says. She sighs, then looks up at everyone. Forces a smile. "Okay. Me and Essek are going to learn how to cook, and then we'll make something for next time."

"Maybe not cupcakes," Beau says.

"Maybe nothing for anyone who complains about my baking again," Jester retorts.

"There are some desserts from Rosohna I'd like to recreate, if possible," Essek says. "If I can find a recipe."

"That sounds nice," Caduceus says.

"I am not much for sweets, but I do like some of the ones in Rosohna," he continues. "They're, ah, made with cinnamon. I don't think they do that here in the Empire."

"They don't!" Jester almost yells, smiling. "I know! It's crazy!"

#essek thelyss #jester lavorre #shadowgast #i guess?

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