#they play favorites with the orcs because they feel like they have bad enough luck as is so they throw them some bones

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

#dang it do i have a new oc now

Sounds like!! I'd love to hear more if you've got it!

(referring to my tags on this post)

You will meet a stranger, sometimes, if you make a habit to frequent taverns, inns, halls for game, or even the one tree where the young Bracegirdle cousins sneak off to play marbles. Well, you will like as not meet many strangers, except in the last case, but this one will be different. Or perhaps you get lucky, and don't frequent such places, but find yourself in one unexpectedly, and meet them regardless.

Everyone in Gondor knows someone who knows someone who met Lady Luck, no one has met her themself. If you do, starry-eyed romantics say, you'll be blessed with good fortune for all your days. The pragmatists tell you you'll be blessed with the good sense to discern a scam.

He may smirk at you after winning a bet, some dark-haired man, using his earnings to buy a round for the bar. It's always a different man, but it always goes to Alwed's tab. It keeps the crowd from getting too rowdy, even if the more superstitious get on edge.

No one remembers meeting them the first time, but dwarves with common sense avoid Audr's shell games and silver-toothed smile- you always win, but it's never worth it.

A woman with greying-gold hair and stiff fingers might call herself Eadrun, and challenge you to a game of dice. Few decline, and far fewer win.

For as few elves remain in Middle Earth, the one who calls himself Herendil and laughs as though his name is a joke should be recognizable. He seems young and lighthearted in a way most have lost, but he will play you cards, win just as much as he loses, and disappear, never recognized.

A hobbit-lass may giggle, red curls gleaming in the sun, and introduce herself as Peony Sandheaver, her family is visiting from Bree, and she wants to see how Shire-hobbits play Jacks.

Sometimes an orc prays over a set of knucklebones, knowing that at least one god will hear one prayer. Orcs have little luck in battle, but uncanny luck with dice.

There are countless stories, just as many true as not. Countless names, far more unnamed figures, always just out of place enough wherever they are to be interesting and promise new tales, never enough to provoke suspicion, not at first.

Even those in the Blessed Realm may find this dark-eyed stranger. Always dark-eyed, like bottles of dark glass. They stop by Aulë's workshop on occasion, to learn and suggest and play new games. They never win the first round, but most have the sense not to bet anything they aren't willing to lose on the second.

Oromë's people call them Umbarnica with a laugh and a toast in welcome. They thrive in the drunken revels after a successful hunt, sharp as ever as they dance from game to game, cackling at ill-advised propositions offered as collateral for or against a bet. Usually this means them winning to avoid it, a frequent enough occurrence as-is, but every now and then they'll decide to let someone get lucky. The bragging rights are the real reward.

And there are no guarantees with this stranger. No way to ensure their favor, though many ways to get their attention, few good. They like irony, take pleasure in hubris reaching its fall. They love superstition, even if they don't always honor it, and they love stories. There are gods that can be mistaken for kind, they are not one of them, created to serve the king the Dark Lord could have been. Their favorites are fickle, their grudges subtle but long-held. They love cheaters, unless they're at the end of the attempt. They will always catch you, and you will always regret it. They slink through candle-shadows and pipe-smoke, grinning, dance in town squares turned to faire grounds, curl up on comfy chairs indoors on rainy days.

But sometimes, in these days, you won't meet a stranger at all. Sometimes your storyteller will get a bright-dark glint in their eyes, and some dice will roll strangely high and some dice will roll strangely low and either way the story will be better for it. And if the next time the group meets you need to take a moment to remind the storyteller exactly what happened last session, well. That's why you take notes.

So pray to the dice-god, card-master, quick-sighted. It might do you no good, but they love superstition, and they love stories. And when you play a dark-eyed stranger, don't cheat at cards.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Tanana.”

This was super fun to write this morning. A little bit funny, and I always enjoy hurting Adam a little, accept in a fun way this time no angst.

Hope you guys like it :)

Just a little bit closer.

The small creature looks on innocently munching on a crop of moss. It has four large eyes, two on either side of it’s head, six legs and is about the size of a small to medium-sized dog. It has really long ears, and if it stays still long enough, it’s going to be my dinner.

I scoot closer over the rock arm raised to the low ready, the spear clutched tight in my right hand.

The creature lifts its head.

Shit, it must have heard me. In my panic, I make a decision out of haste and throw the spear. It goes wild and clatters across the stone. The Drev rabbit takes off, and I am left standing stupidly in the middle of the open field weaponless and looking like a jackass.

“Tsa din dasdarish darat?”

I nearly leap out of my skin, turning around to find Hijan standing a few meters behind me near a coiltree.

“Shit, hijan, do you really have to sneak up on me like that.” 

The old drev looks at me in amusement. I Know she doesn't understand most of what I am saying, but somehow I  think she still gets it.

“Zha deengan.” I say, one of the first phrases I learned how to use. Being able to say I’m hungry is very important in any foreign language.

She tilts her old wizened head at me, “tsa tin danehanish ee dengish?” You were going to kill and eat that?

I shrugged, “Yid zha deengan.”

She crosses her arms, a habit she’s picked up from me, “ene tsa deengan datadish zha dadee sa deeng datahaik.” IF you were hungry I would have given you food.

I sigh, she wouldn’t get it, but still she walks over and hands me a miss twist. I call them that because of their distinct shape, kind of purple and in a strange sort of spiral. When you dry them out they are crunchy like chips though not particularly salty.

I munch absently on the weird plant? Fungus? And she absently plays with my hair. I try to shrug her off, but she’s a lot like my mother in the way that she won't let me be. I am about 100% sure she thinks I am one of her Drevlings. Which has caused a bunch of interesting changes in my life as of recently, not one of which was her decision that I wasn’t colorful enough.

Apparently Drev see humans a lot differently than we do. They can see the way the UV light interacts with our skin. She describes thousands of little spots which turn into swirling stripes. When I asked her to describe the color she said it was similar to turquoise or blue, though I obviously can’t imagine it.

Makes me jealous as hell though.

However, she said my “Carapace” wasn’t colorful enough. When I asked her what she was on about she clearly meant my hair and my nails, which are made up of similar stuff to the Drev carapace.

Long story short, I now have green hair and nails.

Yeah yeah, laugh all you want, but whatever the hell she put in my hair is not coming out. And when I say green, I am not talking like a nice moss green or forest green. I am talking like the color you paint your new Lamborghini kind of electric green.

Not to say that I haven't had my nails painted before, but never this color, and never in tandem with bright flaming green hair. Don’t know why everyone associates me with the color green. I would say it was only my second or third favorite color. Either way, I look super weird as of late, green hair green nails, no shirt, no shoes, and a slowly expanding five-o-clock shadow.

You know I am not a big fan of beards, mostly not a big fan of them on me, but I forgot to bring a razor, so in that department I am kind of fucked.

I mildly wonder if she is going to make me dye my beard green when it finally grows in.

She makes me grab my spear, grabs me by the hand and drags me back towards the village. She doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t try to fight her, she is stupidly strong, and despite being a grown ass adult, I am apparently her child now.

The other drev find her adopting me very, very funny, but at least now that she has they don’t call me dazhit anymore. The last time someone called me a bitch in front of her, she kicked the crap out of them. I thought it was pretty funny personally. They danced around the circle like a loon expecting her to be weak in her old age, and she just stood there then jabbed them in the throat with the butt-end of her spear when they weren’t expecting it.

I laughed so hard I cried.

Ever since, they have treated me with a little more respect. 

We make it to the village, and with one hand she pushes me off towards the training grounds as if to say, “Go join the other kids.”

I sigh and roll my eyes but go.

The last time I tried to skip out she almost had my hide.

I go at her bidding meeting up with the others who are around my height. Hijan watches sometimes, and she has made it very clear that the kids deserve to get the shit beaten out of them. I don’t like it much, but these kids don’t seem bothered when you knock them around. In fact, most of them like it.

I think our trainer is a bit mad that I can actually fight.

I smile to myself 

Now that I do fight, I am at the top of the class.

The kids think I cheat, difference is I have different training than they do, and a lot more experience in combat despite what the Drev seem to think.

“Tanana! Naktan ts adon.” Tanana, my nickname, or my drev name I guess means alien. Hijan doesn’t like the name much, so she calls me tsata which means gift. Personally I am pretty flattered she thinks that about me.

I walk into the circle at our leader's orders and Dark ‘the other kid’ steps into the circle across from me. He’s an ugly little shit, and I’m not just saying that. He’s a dick to me on most occasions. When our teacher isn’t looking sometimes I make fun of his coloring, that usually shuts him up. I should probably feel bad for making fun of a kid, but I really don’t. He's a dick and everyone knows it.

Problem is now he has a bit of a vendetta against me, and is pretty hell-bent on putting his spear through my throat.

Good thing we only fight in hand-to-hand combat these days.

“Aleeshazh!” 

The kid does not wait till the end of go before he is charging at me hands wide Some of these kids are under the impression that guarding your center is like…. Dishonorable or something. They would be wrong because even Drev now it’s stupid to come in arms wide open. However, at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I dodge past two sets of arms and come in sharply towards hims middle. He has reach on me, so I go in close and brutally aim for what I am hoping is his liver, if Drev have them. My single punch has him staggering back across the circle gasping.

The teacher does not look happy.

I feel kind of smug.

Of course the little brat won’t give up, I’ll give him that, he isn’t a quitter, and charges for me again.

He’s making this too easy, 

I wouldn’t call myself a martial arts master or anything in the slightest, but before he knows what’s happening, he’s on the ground with my legs across his chest. I pin his lower arms with my right leg squeezing his upper arm between both. I have tight hold of his wrist, and just as he begins to squirm, I slowly place upward pressure on his elbow by arching my hips upward.

If I wanted to I could snap the joint.

Damn I love a good arm-bar.

He squirms and squeals for a couple of minutes as I continue to apply pressure until the teacher eventually tells me to knock it off.

I let go and he frowns at me. He doesn’t approve, but there isn’t uch he can do. My move wasn’t against the rules or anything.

He looks at me for a long moment eyes narrowing at my unconcealed expression of pride, and a hint of smugness.

I can see he wants to wipe the look off my face, “zha jasti tsa jej atatchan teeya dzhalakat.”

I grin, “Of course I am too skillful for children. Surprised it took you so long to see that.”

He does the drev equivalent of a frown. I know he can understand most of what I am saying, unlike others, but I think it still annoys him when I speak English.

Tough luck bro, my mouth goes way faster than my brain, its one of my worst qualities. If it didn’t I’d speak Drev More, but for now it was going to take practice.

“Ene tsa ditan atatchan juhkee tsa tehish zheengat s dzhal.”

Well shit. 

His if you are so skillful than you can fight with the adults was not an encouraging statement.

I honestly hadn’t meant that to come out as dickish as it did, but now  I was definitely already regretting my decision to be a smug bitch.

Guess that is what karma does to you.

I see Hijan at a distance, watching as I am dragged over to the next training field. The Drevlings follow at a distance chirping to themselves excited to see me get my ass beat.

We come up over the rise just as one of the training circle is in session. 

Two Drev go at each other with spears so hard sparks are flying. Their feet cut tears in the moss as they push each other across the stone. As we come up one of them is hit in the head so hard they are knocked completely out of the circle.

“Dazhit.” I mutter

Our teacher and their teacher stop to speak at each other. I can see them staring at me pointing and speaking quietly with each other. 

The older class adjusts themselves and looks on in great interest.

I don’t know these guys well, but I am pretty sure I am about to know the butt of their spears pretty well.

I sigh and shoulder my own spear, which…. Is significantly shorter than everyone else’s.

I’m not self-conscious.

“Tanana daeen hajish.”

I walk over as ordered my spear still over one shoulder.

“Tsak nantan tarik.” Your new teacher 

I lower my head, “Tarik”

She seems amused and motions towards the circle, “Tanana ts adon. Zha nin tsa tehish darat zhegingi jastat.” get in the circle, I want to see what you can do.

Oh, great.

I do as told stepping into the circle as she calls one of her students forward. She’s a light colored Drev, the color of cream/orange rose petals. I am pretty sure the Drev would consider her pretty…. Did I mention that she’s at least two feet taller than me?

No

Well she is.

She rams her spear butt into the dirt, and I swallow hard.

The Tarik waves a hand and we begin to circle.

I hold my spear like they taught me, though I am much better at hand-to-hand combat. We test each other for a minute moving forward and back, watching each other’s guard. Of course, she strikes first though.

I dodge out of the way quickly, expecting to come in and wrap her across the back of the knees, but she spends around and blocks me at the last moment. We connect together so hard that my hands go almost immediately numb.

She brings the butt of her spear around, and I am just barely able to duck under it. She comes at me again, and I step back as the spearhead slices past my chest.

My eyes go wide as I stare at my almost evisceration.

I barely look up in time to block her fro the side.

The hit makes my bones hurt.

I flick my spear up trying to catch her in the face, but she knocks me away with impunity.

She has me backed against the edge of the circle.

She doesn’t expect me to make it out. Too bad I have seen way more action movies than she has. As she cuts over me, I slide under the cu on my knees skidding over the rock and past her into the center of the circle. 

She turns to find me and barley blocks my strike.

I’m doing pretty good.

This isn’t so bad.

That’s when the kid gloves come off, and she strikes me so hard and fast I can barely raise my spear to block her. A vicious second later she comes in with the killing blow, or the crippling one.

Did you know you can knock someone out by hitting them hard enough in the liver?

Yeah I didn’t know that either, apparently the body sense major trauma and is just like nah fam I am not about that life. The vagus nerve gets activated too.

So there I am lying on the moss and the dirt curled up in a ball trying not to vomit or pass out.

I can hear that little gremlin Naktan laughing in the background.

God I hate him.

And I am in SOOO much pain. I am pretty sure my liver has been ruptured pretty sure I am going to die right here on the face of the planet.

I groan, “Hijan… help…. hijan .”

Yeah yeah practically crying for my mother like a wuss. I know no need to point it out 

But guys, I am dying. Or at least I am pretty sure I am.

Luckily for me she shows up and eventually the others leave. I can feel her running a hand through my hair, which would be nice if I wasn’t pretty sure I was dying 

Turns out though, I wasn’t dying, I am just pathetic 

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 22: Rehearsals 

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 

“Maaaama, mi amore- say mama,” Callie encouraged, her shirt clasped in Leo’s hold and a wide smile clamped around a melting teething chewy. The round, golden eyes locked on Callie still glimmered with unshed tears after waking from a nap following a sharp tooth breaking through his gums, but now his short legs kicked excitedly when she squealed like he after some numbing gel was lathered across his swollen pads.

“Oh my osito,” she sang, giggling when his staticky voice spiked into an excited shriek after she laid him across her chest. With any luck he'd catch the last of his afternoon nap and not completely derail his schedule the night before they left him. With one hand rhythmically patting his bottom in tune with a gentle song she hummed, the nails of her other dragged down his thick stripe of sandy colored locks, thick and tangled as hers always was.

Leo’s sleepy growls wound down to soft grunts, his little mouth pursing when he sucked on his tongue.

Her bottom lip quivered. To think she'd go four days without kissing this face or hearing his voice almost made her call off their already brief honeymoon despite desperately needing the break, not to mention the alone time she so craved from her husband to be. Quickies were fun in the moment, but when she'd have to walk right back out and balance Leo on her hip and a stack of laundry and dishes in the other arm, the yearn for a quiet, post-sex cuddle session resounded loudly in her bones.

“You know we’ll be back, right Leonardo? You won't even notice us you'll have so much fun with abuela y abuelo,” she smiled, recalling all of the toys Oleg had gone out to purchase in preparation for his grandson's extended visit, excitedly sending pictures to Nick every time he found something new.

Callie giggled, her eyes drifting up. She gasped softly, looking down at Leo. “Guess who's back?”

Her door swung open and Leo’s head craned back to find Nick placing their contribution to the dinner at her feet, a smile spreading across his gummy face immediately.

“What's with those sad eyes?” Nick pouted, reaching for Leo.

“His tooth broke through,” she handed him over, their son rubbing his tired eyes against Nick’s chest after being leaned into the crook of his beefy arm. Nick groaned, rubbing Leo’s back.

“I feel bad we're taking off right when this starts,”

“Me too,” Callie sighed, pushing her messy hair back from her face. “I keep rethinking it,”

Nick’s head lifted with a pout. “You don't wanna go anymore then?”

She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. “I really wanna go but I don't think the guilt will go away so I just gotta suck it up and deal with it,”

“We’ll only be a few hours away,” he reassured, a comforting squeeze left on her knee before he carried Leo to the backseat. Nick wiggled his face between Leo’s round cheek and shoulder to elicit bubbly giggles, his affections unyielding even after his son was safely strapped in his seat again, not until Callie reminded him that they were needed elsewhere.

A final squish of his cheeks, and Nick was off to the drivers seat again.

“Let’s do this,” he chimed, the dark clubmasters hiding the excited glint in his yellow eyes.

The weather was ideal for the windows to stay down, a soft breeze drifting through the cab that neither worried about overwhelming Leo as long as the traffic stayed this slow, but neither minded that, either. Nothing- not even that Callie’s dress had been delivered with a rip in the seam, could dampen their moods that day.

For weeks, more notably the sleepless nights they'd planned this and endless trial and error from music to food to seating, keeping enough excitement alive until their day came, and through rejections from churches that deemed their union unholy to now having a backyard wedding at his parents that a shocking number of family wasn't arriving to, they were here, the day before their wedding, and Callie couldn't shake the warmth that had held in her cheeks all day.

The butterflies fluttered about her stomach, bubbling in her throat when she tried to speak. As usual he held her hand while they drove, but now more than ever he toyed with her singular ring that would soon have it’s pair. When they stood in line to pick up Leo’s fitted outfit, he brought her decorated hand up to his lips to kiss shamelessly before the humans that rolled their eyes in disgust, further stirring the churning excitement before she leaned into his side to hide her blush.

Callie’s head landed against his arm rested over the center console, his big hand landing on her leg. Nick kissed her head while he drove, his thumb tracing the supple skin of her freckled thigh.

Callie grinned then. “I hope this song plays tomorrow,” she noted the raunchy beat bumping softly through the speakers.

Nick snorted. “Someone's uncle is gonna grind on someone's aunt,”

She giggled harmoniously, her face rotating in to hide against his bicep. Nick egged her on, the dirty comments flushing her cheeks and leaving her breathless as they drove leisurely along the backroads. At red lights he made it a point to steal kisses, his hand leaving the steering wheel to hold her jaw when a taste of her tongue became too tempting to refuse. They were honked at a few times, but Nick blew them off, telling his pretty fiancée “this is why we should've put the cans on the truck today”.

Their bantering settled enough to let silence pass between them, listening to Leo babble against his crinkly blanket or exclaim when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

“Did Ward tell you what you guys are doing tonight?” she asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder when it whipped before her face.

“He won’t even give me a hint,” Nick huffed, endlessly worried they’d end up at a strip bar. “What about Rosie?”

“Just a girls night at her house,” she shrugged, hiding her excitement. A night to kick back with her feet up and gossip? With unproblematic people? It’s fucking paradise, she’d clarified to Nick when he was confused as to why bachelorette parties weren’t rambunctious like the mens. “I’m not drinking until the reception though,”

“Is it the Orkish champagne?”

She moaned, her eyes closing as saliva pooled in her mouth. “Forget the food, just hand me another glass of it when mine is empty,”

“One glass will have you on your ass, mama,” he reminded, peeking at her from over his clubmasters.

“Good thing my husband will be there to carry me away from the judging eyes of the public,” she said, her chin balancing on his shoulder as he pulled into his parents' driveway. The street was lined with their guests, the chatter from the backyard heard over their engine.

“Only because my wife is the fairest in all of LA,”

She pouted. “Just LA?”

“Who even matters outside of LA?” he asked.

“You’re right.” She leaned in for a quick kiss.

The pair went about gathering Leo from his seat and his numerous bags they’d store tonight in preparation for the following day, including a bouncer and swing. He was excited as ever when Callie lifted him from behind the buckles, the teething toy in his grasp. It took only three months for Leo to reach a girth that Callie could carry on her hip like a six month old, his head unwaveringly steady and held upright as he learned the world around him. Their pediatrician warned he’d fly through milestones faster than they could record, so when Leo started angrily gnawing on their hands and crying through the night, it took them some time to figure out he was simply teething when they’d normally not expect it until later. Moments were cherished with greater excitement after they realized how quickly Leo was growing, and how brief this baby stage would be.

It wasn’t until they’d at last received the results of his genetics test were they able to find some peace of mind knowing when he’d hit a year, this rapid aging would slow drastically.

Being seventy-six percent Orc meant doctors felt confident leaning towards the likelihood that Leo’s growth would match that of a full-blooded one, but the moments remained bittersweet for the parents. In the blink of an eye Leo went from being a wiggling newborn to a hefty calf able to sit up on his own and mimic their mouths when they spoke to him.

His yellow eyes tracked and narrow in on objects he wanted, his colored hands able to pick items, and Nick’s ear was always on the menu of items he loved to gnaw on.

At the call of his name he’d turn his head, and a smile would grace his lips when it was either of his parents. Callie would walk from corner to corner with him between her feet, his grasp tight around her fingers and his feet dragging less everyday he built up the muscles of his strong legs. When he’d be done from such an exerting exercise, a frown up at Callie would signal his reluctance to waddle any farther.

The pouts and angry chuffs were Nick’s favorite. He’d gnaw Leo’s thighs and roll him side to side just to see his little face snarl, a sharp cry rattling in his throat before he’d clamp onto Nick’s arm. Now that the sharp fangs were coming in, he found instigating a fight with his vicious little boy wasn’t in his best interest. It had only taken a few times for Leo to learn if he laid over his dad’s head, he was further defenseless, including those ears.

“Ah!” Leo exclaimed, reaching over Callie’s shoulder towards Nick. “Ahh!” he cracked again, looking at Callie.

“He’s comin’, don’t worry,” she assured, his chuff tickling her ear.

The door was cracked open upon walking up to it, and inside the furniture was already being moved around to create more space to linger around in.

“Late to her own rehearsal!” came Oleg’s booming voice, strutting in false intimidation from the hallway, but his angry scowl melted into a wide smile once Leo recognized him and reached.

“Is everyone here?”

“The booze went quickly,” he teased, walking toward the back of the house with Leo excitedly squealing in his grandpa’s arms.

“That’s what happens when you get Orcs and Mexicans together,” Nick commented, grunting his way in with all the bags slung across his arms and shoulders.

“They didn’t drink the champagne, did they?” Callie frantically asked, following Oleg and leaving Nick to topple over with Leo’s luggage.

Nick and Ward both sipped their beers alongside Matuk and Sergey, the summer sun having been unbearable until Dinara silenced the mens whining and dished out the cold drinks. But the sun still kept glaring down at them even as it drew near sunset, their shirts sticking to their skin and hunger growing. Dura had been the only one to be blessed with a chair at the front, her belly near bursting as her due date approached.

“Pay attention,” Dura hissed at Sergey, fanning her face with her sun hat.

“All I do is stand here-” he hissed back, silencing when Ward elbowed him.

“Can you shut the fuck up she’s about to come down,” Ward growled, jabbing his hand in the direction of the house.

“We’ve done this eight times, why do we need to be quiet?”

“He’s right, there’s no point,” Nick answered loudly, sipping his beer.

Ward glared at him in disbelief. “At your own rehearsal?”

“Look, they’re talking,” he pointed to Callie’s mom who sat beside Dyani and Joaquin, Leo and his mother coming to join them once she’d finished walking down the mock isle.

“Okay music, yada yada everyone stands, then Callie,” Dinara called, tip-toeing around the line of bridesmaids to stand beside Nick at the front.

It was just the rehearsal, and there was nothing to match how spectacular and dreamy it would be the following day, but Nick still smiled watching her walk down like that, a glowing smile on her face and hanging onto her father's arm. Nick tossed a kiss to her before she was even there, tipping his bottle back over his lips to hide a nervous smile when she winked at him.

For the eighth time, Nick shook Diego’s hand and accompanied Callie back to their spot at the front, his actions growing clumsier with every round.

“Pre-gaming?” she asked, smiling at Nick’s loose nod. She was sure his eyes were half-lidded behind his sunglasses.

“Okay dearly beloved and all that, they exchange vows, beads, rings and kiss,” Dinara recited from the front with Leo still in her arms, wiggling towards Nick when he made faces at him. He stopped only to peck Callie sweetly, snatching his son from his mother's arms. “And we’re done,”

There was a collective sigh of approval from everyone placed about in the wide yard, all of which were starved for the cool drinks and savory dinner laid out under the shade of the patio.

Sergey stumbled to Dura’s side and only laughed when she scolded him for already drinking himself into a cloud, but Callie was there to loop her arm around the expectant mother’s and assist in her waddle across the yard. Nick and Ward picked Sergey back up, leaving hard slaps on his back while they teased him over being a lightweight.

“I hope Morn feels better by tomorrow,” Callie pouted, feeling her friend's absence.

“She kicks shit fast, she’ll be good,” Ward answered. It was useless denying they’d become quite cozy with one another, especially when Nick had stopped by unexpectedly to find her wandering around Daryl’s house in his shirt. It was a sensitive topic, but Callie thought it sweet how lovingly he spoke of Morn when she wasn’t around. There was always the hint of a longing sigh somewhere in his words, a hardened pout pushing his mustache up.

“Was it a stomach bug? Daryl wasn’t feeling too good either,” Rosie noted, following her ear into their conversation.

“Was Dejza sick too?”

“Yeah I think that’s where she got the bug from. Grandparents wanted to see her,” Ward explained, finding a spot beside Nick once they all came up to the table. Leo perched on Nick’s thigh, reaching over to tap Callie’s arm so she’d talk to him as the others found their seats. The chatter of Callie and Nick’s chosen family was lively among their friends, the last minute preparations or concerns rising into question and then settling quickly. Food was passed through mouths as fast as the words, the plates filling just to empty minutes later for seconds and thirds. The men of Nick’s bachelor party were ordered to lay off the beer and instead fill up on food before their night of celebration and farewell, waving off their disapproving groans and wails.

By the time they were all dug into their meals, Leo was drifting in Nick’s arms with a bottle balanced on his chest, at last catching a nap to soothe away the throbbing in his gums they’d managed to mostly keep at bay all day with the chaos swarming around them.

When Leo spat out the bottle and rubbed his face, Nick took a final bite of the crispy pork ribs to lean back in his chair and cradle his son closer to his chest, a wide palm patting his bottom. Soft chuffs were the last of Leo’s attempts at consciousness before Nick’s purring did him in, his big eyes finally sliding shut.

Nick was lost staring at his son when Ward suddenly came into view, his ear almost close enough to press against his shoulder.

Ward snapped up, mild disbelief coloring his expressions. “Are you… vibrating?”

Callie laughed out loud, covering her mouth filled with food.

“Does Morn not purr?” Nick asked, Ward leaning away from him.

“P-purring? Y’all… purr?” he looked up hesitantly at the other Orcs around him who were unphased by his discovery.

“Does Morn really not?”

“No! I think I’d know if I heard somethin’ like that!” Ward exclaimed, returning to his meal with a shudder.

“I bet she does n’ it just puts you to sleep,” Sergey added, talking around a corn on the cob.

Daryl looked back to Nick. “Sophia always told me she reminded her of a cat and I thought it was cuz of the ears n’ shit,”

The table chuckled at that, their laughter heightening when Daryl again leaned into Nick’s chest to listen to the rumbles, even placing a hand flat on him to make sure it wasn’t some elaborate prank. The fervent manner in which everyone devoured the food calmed into small pickings here and there and the low rumble of chatter filling the backyard, everyone in their separate conversations or stories until Dinara pulled Nick's attention away from Callie and Rosie who spoke so fast, it only sounded like clicking.

“Ukmall, you’ll need to be here before eight to get Leo,” she informed, and his brows furrowed.

“So early?” he groaned, having fully expected a few hours to sleep off a hangover.

“Callie needs to get her hair done. The fumes are bad for him,” she scolded, and he looked back to his bride.

“You’re changing your hair?” he questioned with big eyes.

“Just a little bit,” she smiled, internally screaming. She’d come to this decision to alter her hair after talking herself out of going entirely blonde despite her curiosity for years pulling her the other direction, but now she wondered if he’d even notice.

“I guess I can get him,” he griped, leaning down to kiss Leo when Callie and his mother sucked their teeth in discontent.

“What time are people arriving?” Callie asked around Nick.

“Three, so we have a lot to do and a lot of cooking before people start showing up. That being said,” she grunted, standing at the head of the table with her glass of sweet tea raised. “I’d like to propose a toast and a thanks,”

Everyone hushed, reaching for their variety of drinks to hold up.

“We want to extend our thanks to Callie’s family who have graciously accepted us in, not to mention our son who came with a reputation,” she gestured at Nick, the table chuckling. “To everyone who’s helped and put up with my screaming,” she admitted to bashfully. “To my son, who I knew would be the father his own raised him to be, and now the husband I always knew he could be,” she smiled lovingly at Nick, his own grin goofy and adoring. Callie rubbed his arm, squeezing his wrist affectionately.

“And to Callie,” she cleared her throat, raising her glass. Callie’s smile dropped when she looked up, her anxiousness kicking into high gear. “It’s because of you my son smiled again, and it’s with your help he’s shown that beautiful baby in his arms such love. You weren’t only a gift in his life, but ours too, and no matter the paths you both might take from here on out, you’ll always have a place in our family. Cheeruk, mausan daughavas. Lat've bleukukun avhiuk famipak.” She finalized, her glass raised and Oleg following suit.

“I’d like to also say something,” Diego stood creakily, his age at last catching up to him after decades of back breaking work. He smoothed his hand down his church shirt, lifting his glass. “Mija, you haven’t always had the best of luck when it came to men, and to be honest I would’ve pulled my hair out if you had brought home another white boy,” he chuckled, the table following suit as Callie hid her face in despair. “But now I can rest easier at night knowing you have a man I would’ve hand-picked for you specially,” he tipped his head at Nick, the orc nodding once in return even though he was inwardly elated.

“I’m sorry the ones you were told growing up were your family didn’t make it here, but it’s their loss, cariña. If they can’t grow as much as you, let them leave. You’ve always been better than them. Nick,” he turned, startling his daughter’s groom.

“Thank you. You’re the standard I raised my daughters to expect, so thank you for taking care of her and Leonardo. I only want forever for you two.” He finished, his free hand resting on Luciana’s shoulder as she looked on at her daughter with watery eyes.

“I second that!” Rosie declared, Santi’s glass following his sister only to spill across the table's surface and onto her plate.

Her cheeks were hidden in her palms when they toasted, Dinara’s words whispered in translation into her ear by Nick after drinking to their parents speeches. He kissed her flushed cheek, promising the sincerity of her words. Her eyes wandered while Nick adored her secretly, watching their parents take turns hugging and speaking with smiles plastered across their faces. It helped ease some of the burns she’d been dealt when her family started RSVPing just to say they wouldn’t attend, and she wondered how much of it was because of Leo and how much was because of their choice to marry. Either way, she knew now who to keep up with.

The couple was dragged from their steamy bubble of secret kisses and whispers when Ward elbowed Nick insistently until he turned, motioning his head toward the door, but his hairless brows drew together.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, noting Ward’s lighter complexion.

He shook his head, waving his hand. “Drank too much,”

“They took our drinks-”

“Man let’s go!”

Nick turned back to Callie, a loose smile curling her lips.

“Is it time?” she asked, and he nodded, leaning in for another lengthy kiss. “If I get a call from Jake that one of his girls is shaking their asses in your face I’m gonna make sure you can’t make anymore babies,” she warned quietly, trying not to laugh when he gagged.

“I hid a nanny cam in the house so if I see a male stripper shoving his junk in your face I’m gonna throw you in the ocean,” Nick cracked back.

“I can’t swim!” she giggled, trying to frown.

“Yeah, you’ve been warned,” he kissed her before she could respond. “I love you, have a good night and be safe,”

“You be good,” she reminded, pursing her lips for another kiss before he lowered Leo into her arms and smooched him goodbye. “No tequila,”

He sucked air through his teeth, pointing at her. “I can’t promise that,” and he was off, following the others into the house after kissing his mom on the head. They grew rowdy once separated from their lovers except Matuk who was as stoic as ever, and they could be heard causing a commotion all the way to the cars until they were off.

“Ten bucks says they don’t make it past midnight,” Rosie announced.

“Make it twenty,” Oleg raised his beer, his bright smile tightening when Dinara elbowed him in the side before making her way over to Callie as the rest of their guests found separate conversations to delve into.

“Callie, I’d like to show you something we picked up today,” she said under her breath, tugging on her elbow.

“Oh?” she piped, tapping Rosie’s shoulder so she could deposit her hefty son into her arms. Rosie doted over him lovingly, endless kisses pressed into his cheeks as he was roused from his nap, but that would be her problem, now. By the time Leo was awake and gnawing angrily into his tia’s cheeks in retaliation, Dinara had led Callie into her room where the bed was lined with pressed and covered clothing, some decorations and linens hung over the small bench at the end. Callie wandered, her hands gravitating towards the colorful flowers protected in plastic boxes.

“Here, look,” Dinara called from the desk at the corner of the room.

The small lamp was flipped on when Callie was at her side, watching as she lifted the lid from a silver box carefully, but upon removing the satin material protecting whatever was underneath, her hands moved even more gingerly than before until a shining, silver plate looked up at them. Orkish letters were carved deep into its face, but the polished grooves were clean, elegant.

“Marriage Armor, it’s called. The bride wears the plate with her new name upon her back and the groom wears the bride's zodiac on his shoulders and chest,” she explained, a smaller pouch that she had in the top drawer of the desk emptying into Callie’s palm. The charms were attached to thin, dainty chains, and carved from a deep, grey metal shaped into bull heads.

Callie smiled, studying their details. “Nick will wear these?”

“Mhm. You’ll both wear the bracelets that are exchanged, but those are kept for the day of. Right now we need to get this on you to make sure it fits,” she explained, opening the pouch so Callie could deposit the charms back inside.

The ‘armor’ had length to it she at first couldn’t see between the satin covers. Her own sparkling chains braided across the shoulders as one long, jeweled piece ran the length of her back, stretching from the plate that spelled Jakoby. When Dinara had it balanced on her shoulders so she could clasp it at her front, she saw where the chains came together into the shape of the Taurus symbol. With delicacy she touched the pieces on her shoulders and at the center of her chest while it was adjusted at her back, her smile beaming. It was heavy- this was definitely some special mineral, for she’d never seen one of such weight be polished finely enough to catch even the smallest glimmer of these dim lights.

“Tomorrow you’ll glow during that sunset,” Dinara smiled, tugging the chains at either side of her shoulders. “Poor Nick will be so blindsided we might have to give his men a heads up,”

They giggled, Callie’s smile wavering when Dinara held her hands tightly, staring at her with glossy eyes. “These plates are traditional. A male’s mother hands them down to his bride if she approves, so these should have come from my own mother in law, but they didn’t,”

Callie’s smile fell. “What?”

“Oleg’s mother hates me. She wanted her boy to have the smiling, waxy wife who pops babies out like rats. So I had these made the day before we were married, and I wore them in front of her,” she grinned.

“Reclaimed the name?” Callie smirked.

Dinara nodded. “It’s a good name despite the reputation that came with it when you met my son,”

Callie only hugged her, their arms tightly wound one another in that moment. “Thank you,” she said, giving her a last squeeze before they both wiped their cheeks of any stray tears.

“Well it fits,” she giggled before the two got her out of the intricate chains and back into the sleek box.

“Come on then,” the orc sniffled, turning the light off. “Let’s finish the night.”

↠

Nick’s hand still hadn’t come down from shielding his eyes, but as long as Ward was emptying his dinner and three beers onto Sergey’s lawn, he wasn’t going to even bother glancing at him. His excitement had drained the entire two hours it took to get here, it’s gradual drip starting as soon as they’d left his parents.

“I’m fine, I just drank too fast,” were the kind of things Ward kept saying to excuse his deteriorating, sweating form, but Nick knew he’d heard him heaving into the toilet after calling Morn to ask exactly what she’d come down with. Still, he insisted he was fine the entire duration it took him to shower and change before they headed to Sergey’s next, but by the time they’d gotten in the car, Sergey was starting to look worse for wear, too.

As soon as the car had come to a stop, both of them were falling out, one running into the house and the other making it to the lawn before he lost his composure. Now, Nick was alone in this filthy mess after Matuk had ditched them, but Nick hadn’t expected him to go, really. Bachelor parties didn’t seem like his thing even though there was nothing to celebrate anymore.

“Juh- just gimme a min-” Ward choked, retching loudly.

“For three months I’ve dealt with puke almost daily,” Nick explained calmly, his eyes still hidden.

Daryl coughed.

“You’ve been hyping me up for this for weeks,”

Ward nodded, spit hanging off his bottom lip. “I’no,”

Nick dropped his hand and sighed when thirty seconds had passed- the longest yet- without him heaving, and he couldn't help laugh a little. Ward wasn’t the kind of person to ever show vulnerability even when he was hurt, so seeing him hunched over and whimpering meant taking a few photos should’ve been his top priority, but Nick showed mercy on his friend while the other was lost somewhere in his house likely calling Dura to cry.

“C’mon,” Nick groaned, lifting Ward’s limp body off the ground.

“I need t’go to Morn's,” he grunted, walking unsteadily beside him.

“She can come get you after I drop you off,” Nick used his lighter voice, clearing his throat when he realized what he was doing. “Sit down,”

Ward instead flopped into the backseat, exclaiming when his head smacked the door panel. He continued to wail when Nick used his foot to push his feet in, flinching at how loudly he protested.

“Jesus now I know why Sherri was such a bitch,” Nick mumbled, closing the door before Ward could scream at him. “Stay there,” he knocked against the window, turning towards the house. “Let me go check the other child…”

What started as Nick’s bachelor party he had looked forward to for weeks, had turned into a mini-pandemic between the parties involved- thank god they left his parents house when they did- and had resulted in Nick getting one giant man baby into bed with clean clothes after he was found on his bathroom floor, and cleaning the puke out of Ward’s car when he voided even more of himself while waiting. It hadn’t come without a cold scolding from Nick, demanding to know why he couldn’t have opened the door beside his head if he had enough power to sit up and spray everywhere, but Ward stopped listening when the words became languages he didn’t know.

He hollered and gagged the entire way back to driving Daryl home, bursting from the car as soon as he was parked, but that only meant helping clean this one up too.

After nearly three hours of scrubbing, and gagging, and screaming, Nick sat on Ward’s porch waiting for his Uber, a cold beer in hand. No amount of air freshener or borrowed cologne would mask the raw stench of vomit under his nails and on his clothes. He’d likely throw these away- his nose was too keen to allow back into his closet. Too bad; he really liked this shirt.

Night had at last crept over LA, leaving only a soft orange glow where the sun had slipped from. The night was humid, but cool, and the woven chair he sat in wasn’t half bad.

He looked at his phone, tracking the driver who was coming down the street.

He’d made the move multiple times to message Callie, but he couldn’t bring himself to halt her night, either. If she hadn’t messaged him about anything, that meant no sickness had befallen them either, right? Maybe they’d been lucky to avoid catching it from Daryl. He texted his mom at least, warning of a stomach bug floating around and to keep a closer eye on Leo.

A compact little sedan rolled up, and Nick groaned. Now he had to squeeze into that.

What am I even gonna do all night… he pondered, walking towards the car. He chuckled. Sleep.

Nick slipped in the open door, closing it noisily behind himself before spinning the bolt shut. His palm popped up just as he smacked his inner arm, his keys flying onto the counter and sliding noisily across its surface.

Never, not even after his most grueling days at the academy or after an even more grueling workout did he ever desire a shower and sleep like this moment, kicking his shoes off excitedly.

“Nick?”

He froze, his head half in the cabinets looking for something to take with him. Nick leaned out of the kitchen entry, his ears twitching. Was that…?

“Cal?” he called back warily.

“Maybe,” she called back, and he was off towards the bedroom he hadn’t even noticed had been shut.

The TV was mumbling lowly with her favorite show, but she wasn’t on the bed like he expected. Instead, sitting on the carpet on a folded blanket surrounded by her phone and wires that made up her headphones and charger with a pre-roll between her fingers, he found her sitting beside the cracked sliding glass door so the smoke could wisp out into the night.

Her eyes were just as wide as his, the pair speechless.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost afraid to move. Where’s Leo?

“What are you doing here?” she returned, knowing he’d seen the joint in her hold.

“Ward and Sergey-”

“Got sick?” she interrupted, her mouth tightening. He nodded, snorting.

“The girls too?”

She nodded, relaxing a little bit. “I thought you were off already doing the bachelor party thing so I just came home… and left Leo with your parents,”

“Yeah I didn’t call them either,” he confided softly, licking his bottom lip.

“So…” she looked around. Why was this so awkward!?

Nick watched her, leaned back on his hands after pulling a fresh shirt over his scrubbed skin. His head lolled to the side, watching her at last let out the insane breath she’d pulled in. The smoke from this one smelled foul compared to the scented trails from a cartridge, but he wouldn’t speak out against it.

By the time he’d come out of the shower, she had gone through half its length and her eyes were already falling shut. Eight months of sobriety brought her tolerances way down, but this was also the first time in months he hadn’t seen her chewing her inner lips or bouncing her knee. What a wonderful remedy this was, but the stigma attached to it would always leave Nick hesitant.

“That wine is gonna knock you out tomorrow,” he mumbled, grinning when she swatted sleepily at his foot.

“I thought we already agreed you’d catch me,” she reminded, twisting the butt in the ashtray before looking at him.

“Only if I can get really shit faced in San Diego,” he whined, and she laughed.

“Duh, me too,”

He smiled, watching her fidget around on the blanket and fix her hair hanging around her shoulders. She looked down at the ring on her hand, smiling adoringly at its face then clutching her palm to her chest. Soft humming came from her, a soft sway back and forth starting.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, knowing she’d fallen into her dreamy haze.

Callie shrugged, looking up at him. Those balmy eyes were glowing, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow. It feels like it’s taken decades to get here but it’s only been… pfft three years? And now we have our baby?” she pouted, holding her own face.

“Wow,” Nick mumbled, smiling at her in amusement.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, I need to call your parents-”

“Cal,” he called, catching her frantic eyes. “He’s fine. Take a breath,”

She paused before nodding, sighing instead of taking an appropriate breath.

“I wanna be on whatever planet you’re on,” his words nudged her away from that guilt, a little smile lifting his spirits when he worried about her mental state. Sometimes the break-through anxiety was sneaky.

Her brow perked up, her smile growing devious.

“I can’t,” he reiterated.

“You can,”

“I can’t,”

“It would be out of your system in two days. We’ll be back way after that,” she too reminded him of the miraculous gift that was an Orcs metabolism, but Nick was a faithful worker and had his own, brittling views on the earth-made herb she relied on. “You didn’t get enough that first time,”

“It tastes like ass,” he defended, growing weary when Callie sashayed towards him with the ashtray and lighter pinned under her palm. “It makes my lips dry,”

“I’m not stopping until I hear ‘no’,” she clarified, sitting between his spread legs stretched across the floor and lighting the end of the blunt.

Still, Nick remained silent, watching her suck in her own small hit until the embers were crackling at the end. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to,” she told him, sensing his hesitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. If he liked the buzz from drinking, he was sure he’d like the buzz from smoking, but his encounters in the past not to mention the particular one that had left him in a room full of laughing people during a bad trip left bitter emotions.

But he trusted Callie when reminding him she’d never do such a thing, and she trusted her when she said, “You’ll like it,”

“And I’ve seen how jittery you’ve been,” she noted, patting the hand that had moved to rest on her thigh when he sat forward.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he asked, pinching the shrinking joint between his fingers when she passed it. Then she sat back on her bottom, crossing her legs.

“It’s your decision, baby. I want you to have a good time but not if you’re uncomfortable,” she told him, knowing even in her bombed state that despite Nick accepting this more over the years and his own curiosity growing, pressuring someone wasn’t how you did it.

He rolled it a little bit between his fingers, glancing at her with his critical, yellow eyes.

Ugh, he’s so yummy-

“How long do I hold my breath?” his voice disrupted her thoughts.

“As long as you can,”

Nick sighed, looking at it one last time. “Fuck it, why not,”

Callie’s eyes widened every second he kept inhaling, caught between warning him and possibly making him panic or letting him get one huge drag in instead of coughing through a bunch of little ones, but by the time she decided, he was done. Silent, holding his breath, his eyes already watering when he handed it back.

Without looking she snuffed it out, waiting. “Nick?”

He exhaled loudly, a cloud of smoke blowing around her that she swatted towards the cracked door. The coughing started before he even finished his breath, the next one bubbling up his throat before the previous one finished. His throat and nose burned, and he could’ve sworn he felt his trachea vibrating with every ragged cough.

“Cough as hard as you can, it helps,” she coached, rubbing his back when he rolled onto his stomach to smother his teary eyed face in the carpet.

The ferocity of the coughing rang down his arms, his head throbbing when he managed to sit back up, but with the calming of his body came… warmth.

Nick cleared his throat over and over, wiping the back of his hands across his eyes, but the warmth surrounding his head was making it hard to keep his eyes open. They felt like they could fall into a slumber at any moment, but his mind was as wakeful as ever. He glanced down at his body; why did he feel so… floaty? He cleared his throat again of its scratch while rocking side to side, tensing his arms. Upon lifting his hand, he found he still had full coordination.

He snorted, coughing a little.

“Are you okay?” His head snapped around, finding Callie staring at him in suspense. “How do you feel?”

He inhaled. “I feel like there’s cotton in m’head,” he mumbled, an eye closing. “Like fuzzy cotton,”

She repressed giggles. “But are you okay?”

He nodded loosely, looking around their cluttered room. “It’s like being drunk but sober,”

“I’ve never been able to explain it that well,” Callie grieved, her arms throwing up into the air. “Are you gonna be one of those insightful people when you’re stoned?”

Nick blinked, his eyes reflecting when Callie snapped a photo of him. “Who?” he asked.

“Oh my god.” Callie mumbled.

“Damn,” Nick exclaimed under his breath, his face twisted in horror.

“I know,” Callie nodded, her knee draped over his thigh.

“Could you imagine…?

“No. It’s bad enough we have dragons,” she said against his chest. Every blink felt like eternity.

“Imagine if they did that,” Nick pictured, his body shuddering under hers. “What’s this movie called?”

“Princess Mononoke,”

He scoffed; no way he was remembering that. Nick took a final bite of their ordered dinner, chewing slowly as he stretched to rest the bowl on his nightstand. Maybe this would finally calm his voracious appetite, but as long as Callie kept opening that bag of Doritos, he was hopeless.

“I’m gonna gain thirty pounds by tomorrow,” he mumbled into her hair, the both of them chuckling.

“I never lost my thirty,” she pouted comically, stuffing another chip into her mouth.

“Damn, what that mouth do?” he teased around a yawn.

“Yo mama,” she mumbled, giggling when he snorted.

Silence lulled between the two snuggled and surrounded by snacks in the bed, both of their minds lost somewhere in the clouds as they re-watched various Netflix series.

He thought he’d heard her slip in and out of sleep earlier, but truth be told, he could’ve been listening to himself breathe. There had been a few times his reddened eyes snapped open to be in the middle of a completely different episode, but mentioning it would be admitting he was falling asleep which he continued to adamantly deny. With a blind reach, he retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

Just a little past midnight, but way too late. He was enjoying this too much, though. Nick was only selfish in the sense that sometimes he just wanted to snuggle right up to Callie and feel her body against his. The last time they’d had a moment like this without Leo in the way was at the beginning of her pregnancy, and laying like this only made him realize how long ago that was.

“We should be in bed,” Nick mumbled, rubbing his eye.

“We are in bed,” she laughed, sliding her cheek up to look at him.

“You know what I mean. Big day tomorrow,” he looked down at her, reaching to move some of her hair from her cheek so he could better see those big eyes that always sparkled.

“Everytime I think about it I get so nervous,” she whispered.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. It feels like that first time I met you at Santa Monica. I stress ate like seven funnel cakes. I was so anxious,” she admitted shyly.

“I changed a bunch of times. Couldn’t decide on anything,”

“Oh you did good, sir,” she winced, biting her bottom lip. “You could’ve drowned in my panties,”

“I would’ve if your sister hadn’t’ve interrupted,” he grumbled, forever bitter.

“Oh hush, it was a sign we would be together forever,”

“How so?” he questioned, twisting in her direction a little.

“I would’ve never called a guy back if that happened with anyone else, but you were so perfect that I swallowed the embarrassment and saved my horniness for another day,”

Nick smiled, a big goofy one. “Shut up,”

“Shut me up then,” she came back with, fast as a whip.

His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering before coming back to her eyes. “Isn’t that bad luck?”

“It was bad luck when we both ended up home,” she whispered, the weight of her hand once on his chest now coming to stretch across his meat.

That was enough convincing for Nick.

Callie was a little slower getting over him, but her heated kisses kept him concentrated on what they both wanted. When she was in her spot sitting in his lap, he could better taste her tongue after pulling her chest flush against his, his strong hands quickly continuing to her round ass he pulled back and forth over his growing dick. A steadying hand against his chest meant he could leave her skin that was marked red where he grabbed, her hips resuming the motions.

With his bottom lip pinched between his teeth, he easily pulled her loose sleeping shorts aside, revealing her plump pussy lips.

He could already feel how warm she was through his sweats, shortening his breaths in anticipation.

“You’re so hot,” he admired, looking up in time for her hair to fan around them when leaning down to kiss him. Strong, sinewy arms wrapped tightly around her waist, grounding himself to the angel that squirmed in his hold deliciously. Silently, inwardly, he thanked those who had blessed him with such a girl, promising to worship more as soon as he was done with this.

A firm tug on the ends of her shirt had it flying past her fingertips, thrown to the floor.

Callie gripped the railing to the headboard when he pulled her chest into his open mouth, a long lick gliding over a hardened nipple that had goosebumps fire up her arms. She snickered when he smacked his lips a few times, moving onto the other side. An old technique had her limp in his hold, her thighs tightening at his sides. He encouraged her hips to keep moving, his cock desperate for attention, but her mind was only a pool of melted pleasure at that point.

A hard gasp fell from her wet lips when he graced her clit with tight circles, hanging off of his neck to look down at his hand flat against her lower stomach as his thumb massaged her into a trance. Gradually her eyes fell shut, hair sticking to her cheeks while she panted softly.

His loose smile made her rock into his touch. “You want it already, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice vibrating with growls; Callie could only nod. He pecked her sloppily. “Get naked,”

Callie stumbled off into the center of the bed to kick off her shorts and socks, moving onto the food and remotes and phones that were now being swept onto the floor without a care.

Nick’s shirt and sweats had already been tossed off, but now as he rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table, his excitement was plummeting. Here was the box, but…

“We’re out of condoms,” he announced, looking back at her sat naked at the center of the bed on her knees with her dishevelled hair a mess around her shoulders. It only added to the tragedy of the situation.

“So?” she asked, her fingers drumming against her thighs.

Nick stood straight, his head cocking.

Since she’d been cleared for sex there hadn’t been a session they forgot to use protection, no matter how it dampened the sensation. He’d done it for her, for he wasn’t the one who’d be carrying anymore surprise babies, although it was the memory of her sweet, bare pussy around his unsheathed cock that helped bring him to an end, now. He’d wanted to ask her, even just for one quick slide in, but Nick had always assumed this was the new norm until either of them were snipped.

“Are you- really?” he asked.

“I hate them, Nick. I’m so over using them,” she exhaled, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve been trying to be good but if I have to ride your dick one more time with a balloon over it-”

She yelped, her legs pulled from under her ass and Nick finding his spot between her flailed knees when she realized what happened.

The mood shifted again, and suddenly they were in perfect sync.

Her knees drew upwards when the top of his thighs pressed under her bottom, his hand finding its place at the bend of her leg that was closest to her chest.

She made it up onto an elbow when he spit at his tip pressed against her entrance, her hand hovering against his belly.

“I’ll go slow,” he soothed, meeting her eyes. The first time they’d reunited in bed, his excitement resulted in hurting her, and from that came the need to remind him to be gentle, even this far down the road. A guilt he’d always carry, but he’d work on fixing it.

It didn’t burn this time his head popped in, his thick shaft following until she was filled to his base. Her shoulders fell back with a loud sigh while his eyes slammed shut, pressing to her as tightly as he could. He’d dived into a pool of ecstasy, sending strong shivers up and down his spine as he basked in her heat.

The stinging tug of a condom was at last absent, and there was only Nick’s velvet skin gliding against hers, creating the friction she so wildly desired.

“Baby,” she called, holding the hand at her leg when he stared down at where they were joined. His dilated eyes landed on hers, a low snarl curling his lips when he withdrew only to slip back in.

Her head rolled back in time with her eyes, a loud moan rumbling under the hand that slid up his chest when he rested forward on his hands, her knee hooked around his chiseled arm. He’d draw out until her heat was kissing his head, just so he could feel that delicious pressure before pushing back in. Nick leaned into one hand so he could touch her, dragging his rough hands up and down her body that gravitated towards his caresses. When her pussy bucked into his thrust, a surprised moan came from him, an eager thrust bouncing her.

A low, rumbling growl moved into her when he yanked her hips up in line with his, his nostrils flaring as he scented them together like this.

“Do it,” she smiled, her feet planted into the sheets behind him.

Their eyes locked during the time he adjusted his feet beneath himself, his breaths deep and loud. A few leisure bucks were her warmup, and then came that smirk. She bowed until she balanced on her shoulder blades, his grunts and chuffs nothing compared to the singing made in his name during his fucking. He was a force driven purely by instinct; the need to fill his girl again, to lay claim to what would officially be his that day.

The slapping of their bodies coming together drowned out the TV beside them, Callie’s resounding cries piled atop his raucous moans as he shoved his way into her body again and again, her juices covering them as he pounded that spot hidden deep between her tightening walls.

Her ass was dropped from his hold so he could lean forward for a kiss, her mind spinning when he rolled her on top of him.

With a flip of her head to move her hair off her sticky back, Callie sat straight, her fingertips guiding him back in as her knees slid out until she was sitting flat on him, flinching when his tip found the back of her pussy.

God, she was so small in his hands when he held her cinched waist; if he stuck his thumbs out, they could touch.

A deep moan rang in his chest when she snapped her hips back and forth, her sweet cunt massaging his entire length. When a dip of her center was particularly low, she’d gasp, holding her stomach where it felt he was poking, but a wide smile always followed those overpowering shocks of spine curling bliss.

Nick held steadfast to her hips, guilty in keeping her flat against himself so there was the added friction on his head.

“Oh fuck,” he drawled, his hand landing back into the sheets.

“Nick-” she gasped, her hand flying to his chest. “I’m-”

His last burst of energy was used flipping them again so she was spread below him, his hands hooking under her knees to push back into the bedding beside her ribs.

There was no more words as he poked his way back in, pistoning into her with such power her toes curled, her arms falling limp above her head when her climax came crashing around her. In an instant, she was stiff as a board, her legs strong enough to fight past his hold and stretch straight in tight trembles at his sides as he continued. When she could catch her breath, she shouted, a deep flush blooming across her cheeks and chest. Nick watched with a proud smile as she convulsed under him, her silent mumbles barely words as she came down from her high.

Her limp thighs shook mightily in his hold when he pushed them apart, their bodies touching in a paused moment so he could adore her with soft kisses.

She was still breathless as he brushed his lips across her jaw, her soft throat pulsing with the blood racing through her. Her pussy throbbed dully around him compared to the fist like hold he barely made it through moments ago.

A soft whisper in his ear brought the tempo back up, but Nick wanted to stay like this.

A beauty such as her was only admired best this close, and even though she’d found her climax, she whimpered below him, holding his face as he fucked her sweetly. Her ankles locked behind him, a heady groan to follow before he dropped his face beside hers.

“Should I cum on your stomach?” he panted, his thrusts weakening as the pleasure peaked.

“Inside me,” she kissed into his cheek, tightening the hold with her legs. “Cum inside me baby,”

The hand lost in her hair gripped her roots, a loud hiss coming from between her teeth when his entire body tightened and jerked against her flushed cunt. The screaming engine of Nick’s orgasm overtook him like a wave would at the beach, ringing from every end of his body and back to his center that spilled into his ecstatically beautiful bride to be. He grunted with every thick stream of semen forced into the space they both snuggly occupied, slowly stilling until they were both a heaving pile of sweaty parts and cloudy minds.

He worried he’d crush her the longer he laid over her, but the soft gliding of her hands up and down his back were too good to pass up. He exhaled, his face buried between the mattress and her head. “Fuck,”

Callie giggled, her cheek leaning into his so he’d force himself up to look at her. The urgency was gone in their kisses, but now he could feel how sleepy she was.

“Ready?” he asked against her mouth, only moving when she nodded. Her thighs trembled when he dragged out of her, bringing a thick stream of the nectar he’d left behind.

“Oh I can feel that,” she grimaced, sitting up on her elbows warily. It wasn’t clear at that point if it was the weed or sex that had left her feeling like her head was vacant.

“You should see it,” he smirked, his cocky pride coming through. “How many siblings did you want Leo to have?”

“Ha,” she shouted. “Good luck getting me pregnant ever again. My body said one and done,” she grunted sitting up, scurrying off to the bathroom after Nick had hoisted her up. He didn’t answer, and wouldn’t. Callie adored the idea of having a big family, but the night the topic came up when Leo was two months old, it only ended in her confiding in Nick that she felt she’d never be so lucky again. She wasn’t wrong in saying her body would likely fight off pregnancy for years, maybe endlessly if they ever tried again. Where it once happened so effortlessly, the time following to get where they were now had left them both a little… doubtful.

Nick yanked the blanket off their bed, tossing it beside the door so he could flop into the cool sheets of the mattress after turning off the lights and TV. His arms were already open when she came wobbling back in, her naked body collapsing into his. They rolled and wiggled until they found their spots, her head tucked under his chin and their legs tangled.

“We broke like four traditions,” she mumbled through a closed jaw.

“Thinking about it, I don’t think it applies to us,” he yawned; the sleepiness was at last getting to him. She looked up at him curiously.

“Our whole relationship is taboo. Curses don’t apply to morally incorrect choices,” he explained, laughing when she did.

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” she settled, her soft smile lingering when he rubbed her arm. The soft breeze from their ceiling fan moved her loose hair around his arm, tickling his skin, but the gentle strokes across his chest from her was lulling him into sleep.

“You’re not gonna bail on me tomorrow, right?” she asked suddenly, and his eyes opened.

He leaned away from her so he could better see her face when she looked up. “Why would you ask that?”

“I had to ask, my mind wouldn’t let me put it to rest,” she sighed. “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” he pulled her chin up, holding her face. “I’ve been trying to get you to marry me for years, remember?”

She giggled, nodding. “What if right when I said yes you were like ‘fuck, she said yes, what do I do now?’”

“Oh my god that brain of yours,” he sighed, laying back down to pull her tight against his chest. “I’ll prove it to you when I’m waiting at the altar,”

“Promise?” she asked, her big eyes already closed. He pushed some hair aside, her lids fluttering a moment.

“Always.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

did i plant a seed in this chapter? are those church bells in the distance? honeymoon in san diego where they have the best tacos HWHAT?

only 3 chapters left! ;_; thanks for reading, my loves! ❤

[renaer-is-allegedly-hot]

session 15 notes

Ok true crime as in my new addiction is true crime podcasts specifically about serial killers

Back to the session

 After getting a bit of a reality check from durnan about the supposed strength and power of the xanathar guild…

Protected our home w glyphs of warding

Last day of our contract

Spell is set to fade soon

Asyna is feeding ot

Ot looks at asyna like he's a cornered animal

"ot here's some meat"

Why is krystal roasting me about my lover

He wants poison

Ot is calling his jailers idiotic

Oh no aerana might be spilling beans

I really shouldn't be allowed to play games

Because I will always turn to the chaotic evil character

Aerana isn't giving anything up

Theo tells us about the plumbers who came over last night

Aerana is going to typ, rest of party is staking out house

Shifts to watch ot, adam takes front, asyna tower lookout (it's foggy tho so perception check at disadvantage, 9; city looks a little eerie in the fog)

Cel puts immovable rod across cellar door

Ot is suspicious whenever cel comes in

"you cannot fool me xanathar"

Cel making theo a new cloak

Ot asks cel when he'll turn him into dust

The xanathar can turn ppl into dust

Flare ?

Is flare the brain boy ?

I don't like the energy we've created around the word "enlightenment"

Cel rolls 18 insight check

Ot doesn't think cel is cel

Cel is gonna just vibe witth him

"WHEN U SLAY ME I WILL THINK NOTHING BUT HATEFUL THOUGHTS"

Sorry didn't mean caps but too lazy to fix

Everyone else

Adam in front hissing at neighbors and cats, 7

Hears pavement scuffle, someone approaches and reddish gtray beard person w non-descript gray cloak approaches; trench

Doesn't remember cellar and plumbers guild coming by night before

Trench says he can help

Help get bar open

Used to drink there a lot

Gets parchment and quill with ink

Rolls insight to see if bar was only thing he wasd interested in, 13, trench seems v interested

Works in surveillance, protection

Gives him cel and theo's name "5 copper please"

Gets 5

Adam picks his nose

Theo patrols entrances

13 for perception

Overlaps path w adam's

Aerana to typ

Afternoon when there

Similar pattern to those there; frequent patrons

"if I'm making up words, it's not really hitler"

8 perception

Place feels open, not as packed as it usually is

Still feel sensation of cold from the well

Wizard w pointy red hat a regular

You see goliath wizard talking to a dwarven woman

Aerana sees an elven man (bard) w "ugliest guy you've seen in your goddamn life" dom says but only after we point out he looks like legolas, tuning a lute

Sense you've seen him before

The wellllllllllllllllll

It is better told by a bard

Some patrons old and strange, others just like to drink

But ritual in the storytelling

Durnan built

Gwyliam

Talking in elvish

Place formerly not too populated

But one of durnan's ancestors came over to build upon it and discovered the well

Network of tunnels underneath

20 for history check

Familiar with some of what he's saying

Parents would throw you into the undermountain if you were bad

Undermountain = stirs weird memory in your head

Being told as a child stories of undermountain

Deep dark fearsome place

Mt waterdeep wizard came here once named hallister the black cloak

Hallister - ppl don't know where he was from / if he was real but legendary

Brought apprentices trained in magical arts

Tunneled on peak of mt waterdeep

Legend of undermountain could not be verified as truth

Durnan's ancestor came to typ

Climbed into well

"I wouldn't bring this up around him" - doesn't talk abt

When ancestor returned was fabulously rich

Split money with best friend

Built typ

Occasionally engages in ritual of going

No one truly knows what lies in undermountain but there's something there bc some return but most do not

"it might just be the sewer" - "but don't tell anyone I said that"

Differing renditions

Some say durnan was the one with magical powers and killed everyone in there, or more nuanced speaking only of tragedy of those who return who come back fearful or returning with smaller parties; others talk more of hallister and argue over his life; every night a different story

Ask if he knows anyone who's come back

Gestures to half-orc in corner playing variation of solitaire; great celebration when he returned, he came back with riches

He is a regular

21 history check

Undermountain

Familiar name

"Deepest dungeon of them all"

When sewers were built many passages abandoned bc other halls + passages found, many teams from cellars and plumbers guild died during construction of the sewers

Prisoners often thrown into "undermountain"

Says even tho he's here most days there's still stuff he doesn't understand about it; new community reforged every night

At some point durnan talking to wizard and having a conversation which is odd ? Eventually wizard looks at aerana (old man) skinny pointy red hat

Wizard squinting at aerana then turns back to conversation

Try talking to half-orc

Interesting plated beard almost like that on dwarves wrt ornamentation; jewelry running through it

Wiry half-orc

Not skinny but muscled

Weird tattoos covering one side of his face looking like they change a little bit

Balanced a little precariously

Ask if he wants to play a two-person card game bc he's playing solitaire

Ask for his favorite game, Skipper (slapjack)

Dexterity check

5, 20, 10

First round you lose, his fingers have strange looking rings beautiful but rough-worn bands of steel or other heavy metal

Second you win

Third round he takes

"say not many people can beat me in that game"

"luck favors the bold"

In the well

Hell but now look at him can gamble all he wants

City of balder's gate

Large city rough place to grow up

Turned into rough child living on streets

Says his name is Sand

Balder's gate warlords make life difficult so he decided to leave

Was found in youth by someone who turned his anger into smth holy

Ran into thieves and plunderers of forgotten relics, became brother and sister and decided to take on deepest dungeon of them all

Horrible things - asks if you've heard the song

The yawning portal song

Not many people know the full tale

Was taught to be skeptical (it's in his nature or maybe his name)

Not sure how long he was in there or didn't know when he was in there

No light

Tunnels are confusing and without it would've been lost; found room with throne with snakes for arms

Great hallway with ancient trap

Living things also in there; all manner of beasts and creatures; ppl don't come back bc of those

Killed goblins down there but after the things he's seen and after the things he'd had to do could've gone with killing a few more goblins

Advice ? Some will sell maps of what they found or what they think they've seen; anyone can tell u abt beasts down there

Durnan wouldn't lower us down

Durnan doesn’t send ppl to their deaths

Durnan lowers people he deems worthy

Strong brave smart fast bold enough or some combo

But even then not everyone comes back

It's a place of death

Not buying him lunch lmao

Has broken into dangerous old elf dungeons like in the ones up north and would do it again if he could unsee some of the things he saw down in the well

A place of death but things move in the shadows w tombs down there and tunnels for miles hallways great and tall, treasures, beasts keeping it for themselves

Ask about tattoos

Gift from master

The person who saved him in balder's gate

Steeped in magic of shadows

Powerful bc he is strong but qi is stronger still

Aerana gets back home but starts to rain heavily

Ppl still patrolling

Adam

Sees drow ? W purple colored eyes silver-ish hair hiding weapons under his cloak steps up and says "pardon me" and asks if adam's seen a cat

Large cat - would've know if saw it

Adam sends drow to trench

Adam gives him good up and down look, can he see weapons ? Carrying two cinotaurs ??? Sinotaur ???? Adam rolls insight for cat

14, seems like he's talking abt a cat

Heads off to trench

Asyna in watchtower guessing ppl's names

Cel and theo switch

Theo says hi to ot, ot curled up in corner

Whispers "hey ot what's up"

Says he should've gone with his gut on the day theo arrived

"dark elegance" "the way you glided into the room" - ot on theo

Ot says he knows how the xanathar pays theo

"I guess seeing you was a realization of my deepest fear" a fear he couldn't name or place or knew he had but out of the darkness theo stepped forward

"I'm curious . How long do you leave your victims like this"

Ot starts to cry and says he would beg her to keep him in this place

"this voice you're using I find it sweet"

"I just don't want to wake up before the end"

Theo is gonna get him food

"the poor dead tiefling told me yesterday"

7 insight

Theo does not know what's happening

Says the water theo gives him looks real

Looks at the wall drinks some water

"and it tastes real"

We kinda fucked ot up LMAO OOPS

"I know that you don’t have a heart… but if there's any chance that anything I've ever said or thought about you could take root in your soul"

Theo says she'll consider his request

Sits there for a half hour then asks if that's her real name

"nithlur" or smth like that

Nihloor

"where'd you hear that"

In his head lmao

What if this is like

A tapeworm

In his head

"what does knowledge taste like"

Asks if it's a feeling or a thought

Theo says it's a feeling

Ot says whatever knowledge is it's valuable to the right thing

Wonders if he can take a nap

Gonna take a nap

Adam forgot he made ott think he was dead

Aerana is taking over for theo

Adam takes first watch

Perception check, 22

Raining ohp so at disadvantage gotta do it again

New roll, 12

Rain is still falling

Hears a weird noise coming from outside the house

Uses thaumaturgy to boom voice saying "wake up"

Everyone sleeping wakes up

Goes toward sound

Hears weird growling noise

Goes semi-toward noise w pyrotechnics prepared; darkvision does he see anything

Sees shape

It's not the cat

Unfamiliar, looks like it's flying but more like it's floating

Bobbing up and down in air

Creature w large glassy eye and sagging mouth w lots of sharp teeth

Sticking out from form are eyes attached to a slug protruding off it w glassy eyes hanging off it

Intense stench making icky moaning noise

Adam shits his pants

It's big

The size of its mouth is human size

I've been listening to serial killer podcasts all day

[mbavholidayexchange]

To @demonicbutterflies, from @pixiepaintt

Title: Piecewise Equations & The Inner Turmoil of a Mathlete

Rating: T

Summary:  It was a day of completely no consequence. Small and tiny against the mass of the calendar; itty-bitty in the grand scheme of chronological order. It was no holiday nor commemoration. It was a Tuesday unlike any other Tuesday to have ever been invented, but to Benny Weir, grand amateur spellcaster and goof, it was the most important day of his life.

It was the day he was going to confess to Ethan fucking Morgan.

Ao3 Link: Link

Content

It was a day of completely no consequence. Small and tiny against the mass of the calendar; itty-bitty in the grand scheme of chronological order. It was no holiday nor commemoration. It was a Tuesday unlike any other Tuesday to have ever been invented, but to Benny Weir, grand amateur spellcaster and goof, it was the most important day of his life.

It was the day he was going to confess to Ethan fucking Morgan. AKA the smartest guy in the whole world. AKA an angel disguised as a human. AKA the person that Benny has been pining over for three years.

In Freshman year, he was just figuring out that he was even into dudes-- he spent most of the year pondering if he liked Ethan as a friend or liked him like that . In Sophomore year, he fawned over Ethan and decided that there was no way the feeling was mutual, especially not with Sarah around. In Junior year, he started out thinking the same, but then-- then Sarah confessed to Erica, and she apparently didn’t like dudes, and Ethan seemed relieved, and he felt like maybe, just maybe, this was his chance. So Benny convinced himself to confess.

The days couldn’t have passed any quicker; he had set a date to confess right after he learned he had a speck of hope (a week ago). Then he blinked, and it was the morning of his confession.

He forced himself to confess before lunch.

That failed.

He forced himself to confess during his last period English class.

That failed.

English class had just been dismissed by the bell, there were no hours left in the school day now, Ethan was still oblivious, and Benny was freaking out. If he didn’t do it now, he knew for a fact he’d back out and hide in his feelings for the rest of his lonely life. He’d done that for two years already; he didn’t want to go back now. Not when he had an opportunity in front of him.

“B? You coming?” Ethan asked, hefting his shoulder bag over his body and ambling to the door. He was probably excited to go home and play the new update of Zombies: Brains, Brains, and More! Benny wished all of his troubles were a zombie apocalypse; that would be infinitesimally easier than what he was going through now.

“Uh-- I--” Benny half-responded, still sitting in his desk. His feet wouldn’t move.

“Benny?” Ethan asked, lifting up a worried smile. He paused momentarily on his journey to the exit.

“You-- I don’t--” Benny managed, pointing a hand to the door. He was shaking.

“Let me just grab my stuff out my locker and we can walk home together?” Ethan promised, walking back towards the door.

“Wait!” Benny yelled, regaining his footing finally, “E, wait.”

“Yeah?”

Benny held his pointing hand straighter, flailing for the right words. He couldn’t think of any Latin with this state of a frazzled mind, so he settled for a simple English spell. Under his breath, sweating with nerves, he muttered:

“ Fire deflection, passionate perfection, grant the door unyielding connection !”

“Did you say something?” Ethan asked. Luckily he didn’t have super-hearing to go with his seer abilities.

“Uh.”

“I’m going to get the nurse. B, you’re worrying me.”

Ethan tried for the door’s handle. He tried again. It gave no budge at all-- not even a sliver of movement in any direction. Benny hesitantly smiled; at least his spell had worked. That was the only thing working for him in the moment; everything else was disorganized mayhem. Just call him Dr. Homo Doom, because his teenage life was descending into a frenzy of unrequited love!

Ethan kicked the door. Immediately after, he scowled tightly and rubbed his foot.

“The door is jammed.”

“Yeah,” Benny nervously responded. Oh God, was he too obvious? Was his plan failing? Was Ethan onto him?

“Are you,” Ethan dithered, choosing his words carefully as he checked Benny up and down, “better now?”

“Yeah. Swell as an Orc in the Highlands of Manoria!”

Ethan tried to suppress a grin at the mention of their favorite fantasy MMORPG. They always made fun of the janky 3D mechanics together.

“Valiant Orc, I shall slay you with my enchanted Ice Protection III Sword of Elysia!”

“Oh heavens above, not the enchanted Ice Protection III Sword of Elysia!” Benny yelled, clutching his chest. He made a pained ‘gh’ sound and collapsed onto his desk, twitching dramatically and trying to hide his giggles.

“Didn’t a new mob just get released?”

“Bro, yes, ah-- spear goblins, I think. Definitely OP. I wanted to play during last class but stupid Ms. Wallon won’t let us bring our phones in the room.”

“Some of us are trying to learn,” Ethan teased, smiling with his eyes, and god did that make Benny’s heart clench .

“And some of us are trying to learn strategy techs for the new meta!” Benny quickly responded. He regarded competitive gaming very seriously.

Ethan sighed. Although he, too, was heavily invested in gaming, he preferred singular player free roaming modes, or, at the very most, campaign modes. Competitive and ranked games gave him too much anxiety. He loved to watch Benny play rankings and rage at smurfs, though.

“Anyway, we should head home. We can play ZBBM?” Ethan pointedly looked at the door, “Can you, uh, do your thing?” He wiggled his fingers, and Benny snorted.

“That’s the issue. See,” he took a deep breath (it was now or never!), “I’ve been wanting to tell you something really kinda important.”

“Okay?” Ethan answered, and that confirmation sent Benny spiraling. This was really, really happening. It wasn’t just in his imagination anymore.

Benny’s breathing quickened, and he briefly considered backing out. Ethan certainly didn’t feel the same way. If he confessed now, he’d lose his best friend. Benny gulped and backtracked.

“Eh, I just--”

And then the door started hissing. And shaking. And glowing.

Ethan gasped. Benny cursed.

“Shit, Grandma always told me English spells were more tricky,” Benny muttered. He flexed his fingers. Something wasn’t right-- he may not be the most proficient spellcaster, but a simple spell like that certainly shouldn’t cause the door to rumble like a giant was full-throttle rattling it.

English spells often had a looser sense of interpretation; something about the translation from the original latin being lost in the magic altered them. He had pronounced the spell with all of the right intentions, but--

But the door was still shaking like an earthquake.

Benny blanched.

“Water pyre, built from needs dire, extinguish this door’s mental fire!”

Nothing.

“Succulent wind, in which all, uh, things end, to my cause a hand you should lend!”

Zero effect.

“Powers from earth, strengthened by girth, to a peaceful door you should give birth!”

Still, no response.

Ethan looked to Benny with wide deer eyes. He had the pinched inner brow expression that meant only one thing: he had been thinking through a problem, and reached a conclusion.

“Did you spell the door earlier?” He accused.

“Uh, heh… the thing is--”

“Benny!” Ethan whined, fretting a hand through his hair.

“I know, I know, I’m trying to find a reversal spell.”

“Because that’s going so smoothly,” Ethan snarked, then paled, “Sorry. I’m just-- agh, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Benny nodded. He didn’t either.

To be fair, he didn’t deserve all the blame. He’d only glanced over the spell once in a decades-old book with more dust than ink-- and then amateurly attempted it. At least it wasn’t a reanimated animal this time.

He could handle a door. Right?

“Let’s just calm down and think about this rationally,” Ethan suggested. He pulled out a chair and sat next to Benny.

Somehow, just Ethan’s very presence soothed Benny’s worries. When Ethan was near him, it was similar to a feeling of… indestructibility. Like nothing could stop them. Benny didn’t know how to feel about that.

Ethan smiled worriedly, always trying to stay lucid in tough situations, and Benny smiled in response. With Ethan by his side, he had no doubt that they could fix this.

“What spell did you use?”

“Well… uh… fire something, made the door lock.”

“Which spell, though?”

Benny grimaced.

“E, you know I have less than one brain cell. I don’t remember. It was pretty simple, though.”

“...Okay.” Ethan sighed, “Then why did you lock it?”

“Oh.” Benny sucked in a breath and froze.

“B?” Ethan asked, scooting closer.

“I-- I wanted to talk.” Benny settled on. Hopefully that was vague enough.

His hands were shaking, so Ethan settled put a hand on his shoulder.

“We can talk. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just-- nervous,” Benny replied, uncharacteristically grave.

And suddenly the door stilled.

It was clattering viciously, intent on nearly breaking, until it abruptly suspended all movement. It was… quiet. The room seemed to shrink without the raucous noise. Benny and Ethan both stared at the quasi-normal door. There was not even a hint of a glow anymore; no sign of any previous activity.

Benny was the first to crush the silence.

“What… happened?”

“Touch my arm.”

Benny shrilly laughed. It seemed too ironic to be true. Ethan asking for physical contact? At a time like this? Right after Benny had chickened out from his confession? He couldn’t tell if it was bad or good luck, but fate was certainly poking fun at him. There was an irregular bit of hope stirring in the pit of his chest.

“Wha-- Why?” Benny choked out, chuckling.

“Vision,” Ethan said impatiently, holding out his hand.

Oh.

A vision. Not because he actually wanted to touch Benny or anything. Okay. Benny shrugged and touched Ethan’s hand hesitantly. Not that he was paying attention, but it was quite warm.

Benny was snapped out of it when Ethan shook his head.

“Nothing happened,” he frowned. He took back his arm and pursed his lips.

“Okay,” Benny simply responded.

“At least the door’s stopped, though. Maybe it opened?” Ethan got up to check. He paused before wrapping a hand around the handle, taking a deep breath.

He shook it, and the handle didn’t move.

Benny couldn’t help but chuckle deprecatingly. Oh, how the tables had turned on him. He had trapped himself in a room with the boy he was infatuated with, stuck in a crappy school building past dismissal time. It seemed destiny was pulling his leg, and he had no choice in the matter.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at the laughing.

“Nothing,” Benny quickly assured, “Just… We couldn’t even get stuck in a cool classroom like biology.”

“And we don’t have our phones,” Ethan noted, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, “No possible way of contacting others.”

Benny nodded. He didn’t know what to tag on; it was his fault they were stuck, anyway. He didn’t want to worsen it and make Ethan despise him even more .

“I… just give me a minute to think about the situation,” stressed Ethan. Benny nodded again.

Ethan sat back down and tapped his fingers on his desk. A minute passed. Benny watched him think, so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Benny’s stares. A few more minutes passed, and the crease in Ethan’s brows was only deepening. Benny wanted to help him so badly, but he’d already messed everything up. Not only did his confession go haywire, but he botched a simple spell and trapped Ethan.

He had never regretted a spell more. Not even when he had accidentally hexed Erica’s hair green and she threatened to sacrifice him to the council for weeks. Not even when he spelled Mr. G to give him an A, and his grandma found out. Not even when he tried magicking some of Sarah’s fake blood to taste like soda and tasted it himself. Nothing could be worse than this-- this cacophony of confusion and guilt. God, he really shouldn’t dwell in his thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. Ethan looked so utterly pensive, and Benny just knew that he was the root cause of it.

His worst fears were being realized, and he didn’t have a clue about how to amend it. His relationship with Ethan was the most important thing in his life, and like everything else he touched, he ruined it.

By this time, they would have both been beyond home, probably settling in for dinner and video games.

Benny waited for Ethan to say something-- anything-- because the silence was nearly killing him, but he didn’t. Ethan just kept tapping his fingers. The desk reverberated back at him. Benny was out of the loop.

Time streamed by them fruitlessly; it stole the light from the windows and the confidence that they had. It was on a different, faster river; Benny was left to run after it.

Eventually, Ethan sighed and broke away from his thoughtful silence. He grabbed a water bottle out of his nearby bag and drank from it. He paused and held it out to Benny as an afterthought.

“You thirsty?”

In more ways than one.

Benny nodded, and snatched the bottle from Ethan’s loose grip. He chugged it, small rivulets of water catching his cheek and strolling down. He pulled away after a second and grinned, garbling through a mouth full of water.

“Imdirect kiff.”

Ethan flushed red. His ears turned a rosy shade, and he tugged some hair forward to cover them.

“Huh?” He asked, voice airy with an odd mixture of confusion and hope.

Benny didn’t reply. He was too busy gulping back the water and despairing in self-negative thoughts. He had no clue why he had done that.

Ethan was still staring at him.

Benny looked away, willing his cheeks to stop burning. They didn’t comply. And hindsight was truly a bitch. He refused to meet Ethan’s inquisitive gaze; he stared at the floor and picked at his short nails instead. Somehow, among this entire mess, he had managed to do something completely ridiculous and irrational again . In his peripheral vision, he saw Ethan twine his fingers together tightly, to the point of whiteness (one of his nervous tics). Benny’s heart stuttered.

Neither of them moved or made a sound for several minutes. There was only the combined noise of their breathing: Benny’s stilted and Ethan’s indecisively heavy.

God, nothing had ever been this awkward between them. It was so unusual-- so innately deafening for Benny to not be completely comfortable around Ethan. He was abruptly dunked in a pit of ice water, and he was left to flail in the bitterness. He was so accustomed to the warmth, and a fire was near, but-- he hadn’t the courage to pursue it. So he was silent.

It took everything in his limited willpower to not crack open a half-assed joke about being about as straight as 2 radians (because that was equal to a circle, and Ethan would love a math reference) but he didn’t. He couldn’t let himself ruin their relationship even further. Well-- if they still had a relationship and Ethan didn’t completely despise him by this point.

But then the object of his worries spoke.

“Unless… it didn’t have to be indirect?” Ethan’s voice wavered, pitchy and breaking on every other word, but Benny had never heard anything so beautiful .

Benny sputtered for a second, then managed to choke out a few words.

“Not indirect-- wait, what--”

He didn’t have the chance to finish, because Ethan was promptly burrowing under his desk and tucking his limbs away from view, husking himself into a neat shell. When he wanted to be, he could be very flexible. His shoulders folded between his knees, his head ducked into his chest, and his feet slipped underneath his body. He was nearly cornered into a fetal position, if it weren’t for the tremor in his chest and wild, watering eyes. Benny was all too familiar with these symptoms; Ethan was extremely anxious.

“E, it’s okay,” Benny soothed, forgetting all of his stressors in lieu of seeing his best friend hurting. That possessed the utmost priority.

Ethan didn’t respond, so Benny took a little step forward and continued to talk.

“I promise everything’s fine.”

“Just-- Just forget I said anything,” Ethan pleaded, lifting his head just enough to meet Benny’s eyes.

Benny didn’t know quite how to respond to that. How could he simply forget the most suggestive thing his crush has said to him in the history of their friendship? That moment was already ingrained into his memory, and he doubted it would ever leave. But instead of telling Ethan that, he simply extended a hand.

Ethan paused and took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself. He took the hand, and Benny gently hauled him up. And then, in the same motion, pulled Ethan into his chest.

“Wh--” Ethan began to squeak, but was quickly muffled by Benny’s classically striped shirt. He relaxed into the hug after a few awkward moments, tentatively wrapping his arms around Benny in reciprocation.

They had hugged before, sure, but it was never truly intimate. Usually it was a quick pull and release, or a light half-hug in pictures. They friendship was never very physically close; that was largely a result of the stigmatic culture that they grew up in. Besides, playing video games together was much more fun than have tickle-fights. This time, though, this hug was different-- it was a mental connection as well as physical.

Benny sighed into the hug; it was such a simple gesture, but it seemed that all of his chaotic fretting was vanquished as soon as he was pressed against Ethan. The naturally subduing aura of Ethan was only amplified through physical contact.

Idly, he noticed that more than a few seconds had passed. Was this too long of a hug? Was he making this awkward? Benny grimaced and pulled back, suddenly feeling bad, but--

Ethan didn’t let him get far at all, tugging him back into the hug with a strength neither of them knew he possessed.

“Stay,” mumbled Ethan.

“Okay.” Benny surprisedly breathed out in response. The things he would do for this boy .

“I’m sorry,” said Ethan, ever-apologetic, and Benny couldn’t help but shaking his head against Ethan’s hair.

“Don’t be sorry. I-- uh-- I wanted to talk to you about-- stuff. Actually.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Benny failed to elaborate. Ethan lifted his head just enough to stare Benny directly in his eyes, maintaining fierce eye contact. He wasn’t joking around.

“Stuff?” Ethan repeated. He raised a hand, almost as if he were to tuck back the hair falling in front of Benny’s eyes, but then changed his mind and dropped it.

Benny averted his eyes, opting to stare at the door. The moment was finally here. Ethan was asking him so directly, so intently that he couldn’t bring himself to lie. It was actually happening; he was going to confess his undying love for Ethan Morgan. Where he had been previously anxious, Ethan’s “indirect” comment was fueling him. He was on top of the world with adrenaline.

“Uh, well, there aren’t any cherry blossoms falling around us like, uh, all successful anime confessions go, but-- but yeah. So basically I’m in lo-- I love you.” Benny nervously chuckled. He studied Ethan’s face very closely, noting all of the emotions that cycled through it: first confusion, then surprise, then contemplation, a bit of sadness, and then contentedness. Or what Benny hoped was some form of contentedness. Ethan’s face settled on that last emotion, holding it for a time akin to forever; neither of them moved in fear of… so many things. The unknown, rejection, loss of each other-- But it didn’t happen.

After several long moments, Ethan’s thin smile cracked into a wide grin.

“I love you too, dork.”

“So…” Benny prompted, lopsidedly grinning just as wide as Ethan now.

Ethan quirked his brows as a silent question.

“Maybe we could get started on making it not indirect--”

And then the door shuddered, trembled, and rounded it all off with a clicking noise. It wasn’t glowing or moaning anymore, just… still.

Ethan, who had been curled against Benny’s chest, pulled away and hesitantly stepped toward the door. He watched it carefully for a few seconds, before deciding something in his head and walking up to it. Benny almost called out to him, was on the verge of warning him to not mess with fickle magic or he might get hurt, but Ethan had his hand wrapped around the handle before he could. With a subtle but effective flick of the wrist, he turned the knob, and the door… opened. It hinged into the classroom, revealing the empty hallways behind it, inanimate and soundless as ever. It was so normal .

The next thing Benny registered, Ethan was doubled over laughing.

“E…?” He asked, confused beyond belief.

“I-- It--” Ethan laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Benny didn’t understand at all.

“I had a hunch. It-- Your spell was fire-based, right? Fire is connected to passion, and draws power from intensity and enthusiasm. When you cast it, it… Latched onto your conflicted feelings, and created a warped version of a piecewise equation.”

“E, I don’t get how algebra messed up my magic.”

“Imagine it like this: if you still had unexpressed feelings, the door would be shut, and if you had expressed feelings, the door would open.”

“Bruh,” Benny said, at a loss for words. His magic spell had held him hostage in an attempt to get him to disclose his crush? Shit. He would have to ask his Grandma about that later (if she didn’t kill him for his stunt in the first place). Magic backfiring against him was a lot more worrisome than him merely messing up a spell (which he had assumed he had done).

“It’s okay,” Ethan assured him, “It’s all better now. Just… be careful with your powers, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Benny bit back without any real anger. He was more upset with himself for letting this happen.

“B,” called Ethan affectionately, “Come on. Let’s go home, play some new meta, and forget this ever happened.”

Benny looked up from his inner turmoil like a possum caught in headlights.

“Forget… all of it?” Benny asked.

“No. Not all of it. Forget your worries.”

“Hakuna matata,” Benny weakly responded.

“Forget the feeling that you’d ever have to be scared of me,” Ethan clarified. He stepped away from the unlocked door and returned to Benny’s side. He held a hand up and finally brushed that piece of hair out of Benny’s face-- this time, without any hesitancy.

“I--” Benny started, but then Ethan was getting closer, so close, and--

Well, with the way that their lips connected like two halves forming a whole, and the way Ethan’s arms slid seamlessly behind Benny’s neck, and the way time slowed for their benefit--

There was no way it was indirect.

[playeroneplayertwo]

The Ten: 5.19

It seems a good icebreaker, or as good an icebreaker as any, to lay bare my top 10 of all time. Clear the air, so to speak. Get to know each other. It’s fair to say that this may be a make or break moment for us. Hopefully, I won’t lose you. Let’s see.

This is a list I imagine I’ll update periodically (which is why it’s dated), as my wife Kathleen (Player Two) and I play a lot of games, and a lot of new games. I’m a notoriously curious and searching type, and I love trying new games, sometimes to my wife’s chagrin. More often than not, my spare change goes to new games for the house. New games that make a splash tend to spike pretty high and then slowly fade. It’s not a great trait to have, especially in someone who tries to speak or write critically about quality (ie write reviews). But being that I’m aware of this, I hope that tempers it at least somewhat.

Anyway, where’s the list, you say? Here we go:

1. Brass: Birmingham (2018)

Oh boy, it’s a new one. Cult of the new? To be fair, Kathleen and I have played this game fairly regularly for the last eight months. By our third play or so, I knew it had locked itself into my top spot. I’d done a fair bit of research on the OG Brass (now Brass: Lancashire) prior to purchasing Brass: Birmingham, and by the time I eventually took the dive and purchased Birmingham, I was as excited to try it as I was unsure we’d actually enjoy it. At the time, it was the heaviest game we’d played, and it also relies heavily on route building–it’s in fact one of the most important parts of the game. I mention this because tactical spacial elements are not Kathleen’s forte. In fact, it’s one of her least favorite mechanics.

This is a good time to tell you that Kathleen and I think (and play games) very differently. Kathleen is a strategic player, relying on long term planning and execution to maximize scoring/performance. I, on the other hand, do not make long term plans. I find it not only remarkably difficult, but also unenjoyable. I’m a short term/tactical player. On my turn, I’m more likely to look over the board, get a lay of the land, and make the best, most advantageous play available to me at that moment.

Brass: Birmingham remarkably manages to cater to both of our play styles, which is one reason it ranks so high. Birmingham presents a myriad options for players to pursue. You’ve got a whole pile of different factory tiles you can build, a whole mess of locations or regions to move into, and about as many different strategies to pursue on your way to the end game. I don’t think I’ve ever played the same game of Brass: Birmingham twice, nor have I ever pursued the same options. The card play means, for me, that I will go where the cards lead, and I find using these cards as a guide to build my engine incredibly satisfying.

2. Covert (2016)

Dice placement. For some reason, this mechanic sounds incredibly unappealing to me, and I think it’s because it’s literally a portmanteau mechanic consisting of the worker placement mechanic using dice, two individual mechanisms that I seem to enjoy less and less. Dice I tend to avoid for their randomness (yes, I know that’s the point), and Worker Placement, in it’s most stereotypical application, I find frustrating. Why can’t I just put my worker wherever I want and just run my engine? Being stymied in a worker placement game just annoys the hell out of me.

So why do I love Covert?

It’s a pretty straightforward points race built around mission cards that have specific requirements. And using the dice as workers seems a fairly typical euro mechanism, but what I like about Covert is how puzzly it is. When you place your dice workers, they’ll be placed on round tracks with spaces numbered 1-6, and you won’t be able to place a die unless it’s adjacent to another die. In this case, you can do anything you want, but only if you plan correctly and work well with the other players. It becomes an order of operations puzzle, which may frustrate some, but I love it.

Also, I can’t get enough of that spy theme. And the production is fantastic.

3. Eldritch Horror (2013)

Ah, Cthulhu. For being the spawn of such a troubled person (HP Lovecraft), I find Cthulhu’s mythos and surrounding universe positively enthralling. 

But dice! Ugh yes, this is a huge, sprawling, long, and [sorta] bloated game that is built all around a very simple dice rolling resolution system. I have no way of justifying why this doesn’t bug me, but it just doesn’t.

Maybe I’m just a sap for the theme (Indiana Jones + Cthulhu = Win). Or maybe it’s nostalgia, considering this is the game on my top ten that I’ve played the most and had the longest. But, if I try to dig into the real reasoning here, it’s probably because this game manages to give you a big, rich, story-based experience that feels like an event when it’s over. Yes, it’s the biggest, longest play session on this list. But I love every minute of it. Even those maddening bad dice rolls.

4. Lord of the Rings: The Card Game (2011)

A long time ago, Kathleen and I came to this hobby via Magic: The Gathering, the deep, long standing king of the collectible card game. Magic is a great game, but it brings out the worst in me as a gamer. Playing Magic makes me both a bad winner and bad loser. Frankly, that’s a terrible combination. Why would you want to play with me at all?

This obvious problem led us to cooperative board games. If I’m gonna lose, why don’t I just lose with you. That’s a refreshing change of pace!

And speaking of losing, hey let’s talk about Lord of the Rings: The Card Game. The word used most frequently when talking about this game–by me and pretty much anybody who’s ever played it–is PUNISHING. And yes, it’s punishing. Kathleen and I have played a few punishing euros at this point (feed those people), but this is something else. Get a few bad card flips from the encounter deck and you’re suddenly up to your eyeballs in LOTR baddies. Orcs and goblins? Oh hai. But your dwarves or hobbits or whatever are never really out of it. Smart deck building (and luck) definitely has carried us out of the tall grass on more than one occasion. And there’s something to be said for a game as well balanced as Lord of the Rings. More than once, a game has concluded on a turn where we either win or lose based on that single turn’s outcome.

The theme doesn’t really do much for me, but I took the dive on this game because it looked like a well-designed and well-supported cooperative card game (of which there really aren’t too many). It’s stood tall over the years, and I hope it continues for a while. When I first played Arkham Horror: The Card Game, I figured it would knock this down a peg or two. But the designers’ ingenuity in the LOTR quests and encounter deck designs has been (for me, at least) a much more rewarding experience.

And I appreciate a cooperative game where you actually lose more often than you win. It seems a rarity in the co-ops we have.

5. Great Western Trail (2016)

I’d heard and read so much about this game prior to purchasing it that I almost didn’t even want to get it (which is exactly how I feel about Concordia and Trajan, subsequently). I dig the cowboy theme, but beyond that, I’d pretty much phased out all the actual details on this game’s gameplay.

But yeah, it really is good. Ya’ll were right. I love games that are heavy but are built around simple gameplay, and Great Western Trail epitomizes that. One your turn you move your cowboy on the (effectively) huge rondel board and then take an action on the space where you stop. That’s it. 

The beauty of the game comes from the remarkable breadth of options you can pursue. Using cowboys to buy cows, hiring engineers to move your train and build stations, hiring carpenters to build buildings and busy up the board, and completing objectives are some of the main tasks you’ll be focusing on, and what really clicks for me with Great Western Trail is that it’s a tactical player’s dream. The board is constantly changing, and as it changes, so must your plans. The objective cards steer you somewhat, but you’ve really gotta cut your own path across the wilderness here.

Oh, and I love deckbuilding as a sort of side dish mechanic. It isn’t always enough to sustain a whole game, but it’s great as a single piece of a pie.

6. Gloomhaven (2017)

All right, so this big beast has moved all over my ranking in the year+ since my first game. I won’t lie, it sat at #1 for a while. Then it slid a little, then a little more. I mean, it’s still at #6, so it’s not exactly plummeting. It’s the Board Game Geek #1 game of all time (as of this writing), and it’s hard to say if it’s deserving of this (and if not, what deserves the spot instead). Again, this is so subjective, and games like this or Scythe tend to be lightning rods for people who want to take a shot at the new hotness.

But yes, it’s good. It’s very good. I’m not as enamored by the sprawling nature of it as I was, nor the campaign, but being a person who loves variety, it’s scope is certainly a nice bonus. But after you haven’t played it in a while, it becomes a HUGE box that takes up a whole shelf and is a bear to set back up. And even though the box is 20lbs and takes up a whole shelf and the game takes 20+ minutes just to set up, the card play in Gloomhaven is just stellar. I love that this is essentially a tactical minis game with a euro engine. Tactical minis games rank incredibly low on my chart o’ interest, but this game takes that standard tactical minis expectation and smashes the shit out of it. 

Despite its niggling flaws, it’s an excellent game.

7. The Exit Series (2017-?)

This is the last co-op game on my list, and I just looked back and saw that there are four on here. I was just talking to Kathleen about how much I’d rather play competitive games instead of co-ops, and apparently I said that in a moment completely lacking self-awareness. Also, this is a cheaty kind of entry considering we’ve played at least eight Exit games.

Remember when I said that I liked Eldritch Horror because it was an event game that provided a big, rich experience? Well, the Exit games give you a meaty, brainier experience in a slightly shorter time period. There’s not much story–despite the designers really trying to cram one in there–but I’ll always love Exit because it’s become our Date Night game. Kathleen and I will get some nice booze, take out food, and sit down with a new Exit after we put our son to bed. The experience can be frustrating–remember we think very differently, but each experience has always been something to remember (except the Secret Lab; what happened in that one?). Special props to Exit: Dead Man on the Orient Express, in particular.

The puzzles are really satisfying when you crack them, especially after working on them for a while. We take longer than average to do these because we resist those hint cards as much as possible, so our games can stretch. But Exit should be an event, and when savored like one, it doesn’t let you down.

Also, if you have concerns about the value of an Exit game, if you look at it as an event (like going to the movies or *cough cough* playing T.I.M.E. Stories), it’s actually a very good value. Recycle it!

And finally, yes, Exit trumps Unlock any day of the week.

8. Glory to Rome (2005)

That Glory to Rome is out of print is a cryin’ shame. Our copy isn’t even a real copy, I printed a crappy DIY version at Staples and then cut and sleeved them with old Magic commons. Our copy looks bad, is cut unevenly, and has eery MTG watermarks shining through the thin weight paper, and I couldn’t care less. This game is awesome. It’s got about a million different combos that are all seemingly game-breaking, but the fact that everything is so powerful is really what makes this game so exciting.

Multi-use cards are one of my favorite mechanic, and this game is completely built around them. And like any well-designed game that is build all around cards, the design of this never leaves you feeling hamstrung by bad card draw. If you’re doing badly at Glory to Rome, it’s your fault. Sorry. You haven’t found the combo that will win the game for you. I can say this because I’m terrible at Glory to Rome, and I know it. That’s not saying I’ve not won before. I have, but more likely than not it was because I accidentally stumbled onto something good. 

Like Brass: Birmingham, no two games of Glory to Rome are the same. There are so many cards in the box, and the subtle sense of humor that permeates some of the cards just tickles me (please see: latrine).

It’s fast and exciting, and giving you options on other players’ turns is also one of my favorite mechanics.  I’ll happily play and lose Glory to Rome anytime.

9. Nippon (2015)

Full disclosure, this is the newest edition to this list, and Kathleen and I have only played this a few times, but there’s something about this game that really fascinates me. 

At first blush, it feels like Brass, but it’s not. Like Brass, this is an economic engine, but it doesn’t allow the multi-turn build up to The Big Turn like Brass. Then I thought it was a little like Great Western Trail, but it’s not really like that either. Great Western Trail presents a ton of options, but by the end of the game, you really need to work on all of them, at least a little bit, or else your score will suffer. Nippon, however, doesn’t make you do a little bit of everything. There are a number of elements in Nippon (like trains), that can be all but ignored except for certain circumstances. It’s a game built around area control via slow burn engine building. A number of other elements to the game are very specific tools you can use to hone that engine, but could just as easily prove useless under the wrong conditions.

This may be misdirected musings by someone who hasn’t played the game enough, but it feels right to me. The last time we played, I came to the realization that the game felt so fraught because I was trying to do too much. The game presents you with a large amount of avenues to pursue because you don’t actually have to pursue them all; you can’t, there’s not enough time in the game (or money!). You need to choose your actions and build the best engine as quickly as possible.

Nippon is a cutthroat fight that feels both wickedly fast and frustratingly slow at the same time. Special bonuses for completely subverting the worker placement mechanic with its own implementation that runs the whole game. It’s a puzzle that I have relished greatly.

10. Star Wars: The Card Game (2012)

Two Fantasy Flight LCGs on the list? Sweet Christmas!

But yes, this is a great game. I’m not sure it ever got much love, and it saddens me that it’s now dead, but it’s such an interesting design. That it does a fine job of simplifying deck construction is just a bonus.

I appreciate that Star Wars feels like a game of high stakes gambling. The first few turns are slow and quiet as you work through your deck and build your forces, but once conflict erupts, everything tends to break wide open. Each decision you make has massive repercussions, as single large mistakes will lose you the game. Add in some actual bluffing and a ticking clock, and this is the simplified and streamlined (if safer and less wild) version of Doomtown: Reloaded, another card game that I absolutely love. 

But where I think Doomtown ultimately fails, Star Wars succeeds. The game doesn’t get bogged down in complexity, and instead feels relatively streamlined considering its medium weight. Every time I play this game, I’m impressed by how smart Eric Lang’s design is. I feel like he played a ton of Magic: The Gathering, and then he removed all the things that bothered him (and bothered me, too).

I think this game is overlooked and underplayed, and dare I say forgotten, but for my money, it’s absolutely worth revisiting. And played over and over again.

Please remember, this list will change. Check back occasionally to see how. If you have any questions or opinions of your own, let me know in the comments!

Thanks for reading!

Eric (Player One)

[theticklishpear]

Hi Pear! About your post about splitting up a series: any advice on how to make each book complete without making the overarching plot episodic? Like, some series, like Harry Potter, have per-book arcs that wrap up at the end of the book, with the big picture almost as background until the end, and then there’s series like Lord of the Rings where everything happens at once, continuously. Your post makes total sense with the first kind of series, but I could use help applying it to the second!

Hey Pan! Thanks for the question! Apologies in advance for the length–apparently when you get me talking about two of my favorite series…..

Spoilers, I guess?? For 21- and 64-year-old books???

I’m of the opinion that the advice in that post still stands for both types you’re talking about, and I would argue that there isn’t much difference in the essence of what those series do, only in two points of execution.

One of the differences you’re feeling is point of view:

The “middle books” of both Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings maintain the structure I proposed in that last post: They each have their own builds in tension, their own goals, and their own input into the main plot of the series. The narrative decision for each series’ point of view, however, greatly impacts how they feel as a unit.

Harry Potter sticks with telling the story from a third-person limited perspective with Harry: We only get where Harry is, what he’s thinking about, and his knowledge. Each book follows individual plot structures with their own climaxes, which work toward the growing tension and eventual boiling-over of the main series plot.The plot arc that each book focuses on centers around Harry and his goals in the fight against Voldemort. Because of this, books feel smaller, more contained, because they’re only dealing with this character’s slice of the world.

Lord of the Rings is absolutely episodic in the same way Harry Potter is, but it doesn’t feel that way because of how Tolkien handles the point of view and his characters. The party splits and then are thrown as far from each other across Middle Earth as they can get. Tolkien endeavors to still tell everyone’s story and splits the point of view as well, in order to travel with them all.

He makes sure to devote time to each character’s arc throughout each of the three books, building toward climaxes in as many arcs as he can in every book. In the case of The Two Towers (and somewhat the series as a whole), because of the distance between the parties and the split point of view, there are more like 3 climaxes: one (or more) for each party.

The physical distance between the Fellowship creates an episodic tale as all of them go through their own isolated events, but the way Tolkien chooses to break up the narrative so that each book carries threads of all the groups rather than the single story of just one of those groups helps to make the series feel continuous.

Consider if Tolkien had chosen to split the structure further so that each “group” received their own book that followed just them. Had he done it that way, it would have felt very similar to how Harry Potter feels because of the way the point of view constructs the overall series plot.

The other difference is how the series handle resolution for each volume:

In the Harry Potter books, Rowling is very careful to bring the tension of the book back down to nearly ground level from where it started. Most of the books have long enough chunks of resolution at the end that we’re left feeling like we’re back in the calm–sure, another storm will come, but for now, this portion is over.

In the Lord of the Rings books, Tolkien gives us no such feeling. The Fellowship of the Ring ends with Boromir actively dying, Frodo and Sam fleeing, Merry and Pippin captured, Gandalf presumed dead, and none of it gets resolved in any way. It just ends.

And The Two Towers? Not much better: Pippin has unwittingly caused another battle to brew, Sam and Frodo just finish fighting a giant spider during which fight, Sam thinks Frodo has died, his presumed corpse taken by orcs, only for it to be revealed that Frodo is in fact alive. Does that feel resolved to you??? Me neither!

On constructing plots:

Arguably, in terms of the language of story and literary structure, Tolkien did a bad job of constructing his story to easily break into satisfying chunks. After all, he’d intended for The Lord of the Rings to be a single enormous, cow-killing-sized volume. He intended it to be one book. His publisher said no (for a variety of pretty good reasons, not the least of which is the longevity of the physical book, tbqh) and asked him to split it into easier-to-print volumes, which eventually influenced the wave of popularity the trilogy structure has enjoyed.

Rowling did a pretty decent job of purposefully structuring her books to be split. Ideally, you should also be planning and structuring your series’ plot to be able to break, which requires each book to be easily recognizable as a story.

They each must have:

openings that put the readers squarely back in the world and the series conflict,

an incident in which characters are driven to take more action (a series version of an inciting incident),

at least one goal characters are working toward (preferably more),

multiple complications that cause setbacks,

at least one climax to a situation relevant to the series plot,

and at least one resolution.

Plan distinct goals in between Point C (when they enter the fray) and Point X (when they fight the Final Fight™ of the series), and additional climaxes for the climb toward achieving those goals.

Plan to have intense and not-easily-navigated-around complications to those goals that might take some time to resolve.

You don’t need to resolve everything as cleanly as Rowling. As I mentioned, Rowling brings the tension way back down by tying up many (most?) of the loose ends in each book, only to ramp that tension right back up in the next book. You don’t have to wrap things up quite so neatly at the end of your installments and de-escalate as much as she does (particularly in those early books).

You can leave threads unfinished. You can plant the plot seeds for the next book. You can leave characters hanging. You can introduce complications without solving them right that moment.

Leaving the tension higher, however, does not mean there’s no resolution. There should be at least one thread that resolves in each book, whether that’s big-series-structure goals like successfully acquiring or completing part of a plan, or removing an enemy player from the board; or smaller character arc things like a character conflict, or something else.

Without that aspect of resolution, you leave the book as a block of rising action rather than a narrative in its own right. Each book should have some definitive arc that moves forward, inciting incidences, complications, climaxes and all. The plot has to be structured in a way where there are things the characters are trying to achieve, obstacles they are trying to overcome to achieve those things, and it’s up to you to make sure each book is a complete book.

On weaving series:

There’s a good middle ground between Tolkien and Rowling, and it involves a lot of plotting and picking and choosing: Point of view will tell you exactly what you can show on the page, and purposefully taking your time to structure the narrative so that you’re able to feature and bring to the forefront the particular threads and arcs you want are key.

Honestly, I personally don’t recommend taking the Tolkien route of literally just chopping it into thirds (or fourths, or however many pieces). Instead it’s a bit like trying to plan for a multiple POV novel, except that you’re planning a multiple story novel instead, and a similar technique can be applied.

As a firm plotter, I believe that it’s best if you can sit down from the start and plot it all out as much as you can. Make a plan for the overall series, make plans for character arcs, make plans for any subplot arcs. Lay them all out, and see how they interweave and connect together to create a massive plot plan.

Then go back and make a note of all the plot points that are particularly crucial to understanding the story, including any moments that could be considered climaxes to overall arcs, character arcs, and the mini-arcs that make up larger overall arcs.

Evaluate which of those points absolutely must be on screen and which ones you can safely portray off screen. From there, you’ll be able to see what kind of point of view will best complement the points you have. Always be sure to keep notes on what things must happen off screen so that you remember they are happening in the background.

(I do all of this on a smaller scale in this post, putting together two character arcs into an overall story arc.)

Once you’ve done that, it’s really about deciding how and where you want to break up those books. The end of one and the beginning of the next will need to be smoothed out, and sometimes the plot of each chunk will need to be tailored a bit to make sure it follows a palpable rise and fall and features those things listed in the bulleted list above.

We’re going to talk more about figuring out where to break a book in a future post, which will play a big role in how the series feels as a whole. Ideally, you’re structuring the series to rise and fall continually throughout the series in conflicts, climaxes, and resolutions throughout, so theoretically you’re looking for moments between those when a resolution of some kind provides a bit of a lull in the story.

Now, that was real long and a bit rambly. I hope it helped somehow... Good luck! -Pear