#I’d like to think the other eggs are off adventuring too

[theferrarieffect]

snickerdoodles, chapter 1: best friend butterflies, and a daunting assignment turns into quite the baking adventure (3.6k words)

warnings: bit of pining, the slowest burn, ✨friend tension✨

chapter 1: tim tams and meringues

The kitchen is chaos. Bowls and spatulas are strewn all over the messy counter, a timer shaped like a cow chirps angrily for your attention, and you’re pretty sure there’s flour on your chin. You open the oven door, grimacing at the heat—once upon a time, you never had to be the one to do that—precariously move a tray of cookies from a sheet pan to a wire rack, and top them off with a dusting of cinnamon and sugar. Another tray beside it boasts row after row of perfectly piped meringues.

Three slight taps on the door, and your heart leaps. Your taste tester has arrived, just in time.

Abandoning the still-hot cookies on the counter, you saunter your way to the door. Not too quickly—too eagerly—but not too slowly, keeping your guest waiting. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You turn the handle.

As soon as you see each other, Oscar’s stoic face breaks out into a cheeky grin. You meet his outstretched arms halfway, bury your face in his soft hoodie.

“Long time, no see,” you murmur into his chest.

“I could say the same for you.” He rests his chin on top of your head. Then he sniffs your hair. “Let me guess,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Snickerdoodles?”

You break apart, and finally you can take all of Oscar in, his normally cropped hair starting to curl over his ears, the Lando Norris hoodie he has on—supportive teammate, huh—the little mole under his left ear, a constant presence for as long as you can remember.

“That’s cheating,” you say. “I always make snickerdoodles.”

Snickerdoodles are Oscar’s favorite.

Oscar steps into the living room, takes his shoes off without you having to ask. “Hmmm...can’t you give me a hint?”

“Fine.” You get up on your tippy toes and cup his eyes with your hands. “I’ll let you smell them. And no cheating!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, taking your wrists gently and lowering them to your sides. He closes his eyes obediently.

You take the opportunity to run into the kitchen, scoop a small pile of meringues into your hands, and return to the living room. You hold your cupped hands up to Oscar’s nose.

He inhales deeply. Thoughtful twin dimples appear above his eyebrows. “Are you even giving me anything to smell?”

You stifle a giggle, because in fact, you were just the tiniest bit cruel with your hint. As far as cookies go, meringues don’t smell like much at all, given that they’re mostly egg whites and sugar.

“Maybe you need a taste test,” you tease.

Oscar opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, just far enough for it to look comical. You don’t try to fight the laughter anymore as you place a single meringue on his tongue.

“What the?” Oscar says as the cookie starts to dissolve in his mouth. His eyes fly open. “Are these—are these?—these taste like the world’s most boring pavlova.”

“Hey!” you say indignantly. “The meringue is the best part of the pavlova.”

“Hard disagree. Hard. It’s the whipped cream and the fruit that carry it.” The comment earns him an eye roll.

“Well,” you huff, feigning irritation, “then you won’t mind helping me finish it up.”

Oscar’s eyes light up. “You’re not done yet?”

“No, dummy. If I’d put the fruit and the cream on top it'd just melt the cookie underneath. And I wasn’t sure exactly when you were gonna get here.” You turn and head back into the kitchen, Oscar trailing close behind.

Neat rows of small meringues are arranged on one baking sheet, a larger one piped in a sort of flat nest on the other. “I already sliced up the fruit, if you want to get it out of the fridge,” you nudge, and Oscar retrieves the cold metal bowl, draped loosely in plastic wrap. When he thinks you’re not looking, he swipes a snickerdoodle from the wire cooling rack and stuffs it in his mouth whole.

“I saw that,” you say, loading a dollop of freshly whipped cream into a piping bag.

“Saw what?” Oscar asks innocently, mouth full of crumbs.

You drag your pointer finger through what’s left of the whipped cream in the bowl. You turn to him slowly, and in a flash, dot a tiny bit of it on the tip of Oscar’s nose.

Oscar lunges for the bowl, arms his own finger, and drags a streak of fluffy white cream down your cheek.

“Hey!”

He giggles, pointing at your face. “You look like a kid wearing face paint.”

You attempt to retaliate, but then Oscar grabs your wrist. You become acutely aware of a little lurch your stomach does as he looks you directly in the eye. He raises his other hand, slowly wipes the whipped cream off your face with his thumb. He’s still holding your wrist. Your cheeks burn.

“No playing with your food,” he lilts, and then his hands are gone, as quickly as they came.

You roll your eyes, if only to disguise the fact that your face is probably the color of the raspberries in the fruit bowl. “You’ve lost whipped cream privileges.” You pipe a layer down onto the bed of meringue, and step aside for Oscar to crown the whole affair with the fruit.

He furrows his eyebrows in concentration as he carefully arranges the slices of kiwi, spears of strawberry, raspberries, and blueberries one by one within the crevices of the whipped cream.

Watching him, you feel a rush of nostalgia. It’s just like old times.

Almost.

~

You and Oscar met in Year 9, when you were assigned to sit next to each other in Home Ec. You wouldn’t have been caught dead in the Textiles section of the class—needles, even the sewing kind, made your head start to spin—but you reasoned that you did like food. Even though your scatterbrained self probably shouldn’t have been trusted around stoves or ovens either.

Oscar looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. After exchanging a perfunctory hello at the beginning of each class, he seemed to mentally launch himself into outer space. You had no idea a pair of eyes could go that blank.

One day, the teacher tells you to pair up for a group project. The assignment? Make a homemade version of a common processed snack.

You glance over at your seatmate, and for better or worse, he looks just as much at a loss as you feel.

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, clears his throat. “Um,” he says quietly. “Any ideas?”

You just shake your head.

He sighs. “I’ll think about it some when I go home.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “If you give me your number we can text about ideas.”

You oblige, tapping your name and cell phone number into his contacts.

But judging by the radio silence that night, neither of you experience any bursts of creative inspiration.

The next class period, Oscar’s eyelids droop halfway closed and you’re absentmindedly filling in every other square on your gridded paper like a checkerboard, when the teacher’s voice jerks you both awake.

“Ryan,” she admonishes your classmate. “Put those Tim Tams away. No eating during class.”

Almost telepathically, your heads whip around to face each other, and your eyes lock in agreement. Tim Tams it is.

You invite Oscar to your house for your endeavor to replicate the Tim Tams from the comfort of your own kitchen. Your younger brother had grinned evilly at you when you’d warned him to stay out of the way.

“Oooooooh,” he singsonged. “You’re having a boy over?”

“No, shut up,” you snapped. “It’s for a group project. And besides,” you said wryly, conjuring up in your mind Oscar’s skinny legs, unkempt hair, eternally languid expression and distinct lack of willingness to talk during class, “he’s not even cute.”

And really, he wasn’t.

Oscar knocks timidly on the door, and when you open it, you’re greeted by the sight of him cradling an enormous bag of sugar. It must have weighed at least ten kilos.

“Oscar—” you gasp. “Why on earth, do we need that much sugar?”

Clearly, Oscar hadn’t thought too much about portion sizes when you’d asked him to pick up a bag of sugar on his way to your place. Poor kid. These were the people who needed Home Ec, you supposed.

He turns beet red. “Um,” he stumbles.

You will yourself not to laugh at him; you have a feeling that if you did, he might just never speak to you—or anyone else—ever again.

“Never mind,” you say, waving him through the door. “It’s a lot better to have extra than not enough.”

To your relief, some of the tension leaves Oscar’s shoulders, and he lets the heavy sack of sugar drop to the floor next to your counter.

“So...you know how to bake?” Oscar asks, his eyes roaming curiously over the sheet trays and measuring cups lined up on the counter, the large bag of baking chocolate you’d bought for the project, the gleaming white KitchenAid you’d sweet-talked your mom into letting you use.

“No,” you admit. “My mom’s fantastic, though. I dunno what I’m gonna do when I go to uni and I won’t have a constant supply of her banana bread anymore...”

“We should just have her do the project, then.”

Surprised at his brazen comment, you turn to face Oscar, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Huh. Oscar Piastri has a sense of humor, you think. “I wish,” you chuckle.

You pull up an online recipe for homemade Tim Tams on your laptop. “It doesn’t look too bad. Tim Tams are basically two biscuits with icing between them.”

“Dipped in chocolate,” Oscar finishes.

“Yep, dipped in chocolate. Should be simple,” you say, and Oscar nods in assent.

Alas, it was not simple at all.

The first batch of biscuits comes out looking, well, a lot like charcoal. Your eyes sting with the veritable cloud of smoke that billows out of the oven. You and Oscar fan at it frantically, trying to disperse it before it sets off the fire alarm.

On the second attempt, the biscuits look edible enough, but something goes horribly wrong with the chocolate coating. Instead of a smooth, homogenous mixture of chocolate and oil, great dark lumps settle below a thick layer of clear liquid.

“Shit,” you say, staring at the bowl. Oscar peers over your shoulder.

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah, oh no. What did we do this time?”

Oscar pulls out his phone. “Troubleshooting...polar...emulsion,” he mutters as he taps away on the keyboard.

“Emulsion?” you say. “That’s the nerdiest thing someone could possibly say.”

Silence.

When you look up from the sad bowl of chocolate, Oscar’s face is flushed. “Oh—Oscar,” you say, embarrassed. “You know—I was just joking, right?”

Oscar’s lips disappear, leaving only a thin line where his mouth was. “Yeah,” he says, tightly.

“No, seriously,” you fumble, a little desperately. “I wouldn’t have made fun of you if I didn’t think it was actually cool. I swear.” Your words sound hollow to you, and you feel like a top tier ass.

He just shrugs. “I’m used to it. I’ve always been the nerd.”

“Please. Until about two seconds ago I thought you were the literal opposite.” You pause, then press forward recklessly. What’s there to lose? “Don’t think I haven’t seen you go practically unconscious every day in Home Ec.”

Oscar stares at you mutely, and you’re sure you’ve now permanently fucked up any chance of you getting along for the foreseeable future, but then—Oscar laughs. His face changes entirely when he does—tiny lines appear at the corners of his eyes, as does a dimple by the crease of his right lip. Like the Australian sun peeking out from behind a passing cloud. It makes you think...something. You’re unsure how to put it into words. But it makes you feel buoyant.

You work much more companionably than before from that point on, and finally, emerge with a batch of chocolate-covered biscuits that to be honest, you’re pretty proud of. Dusk has started to fall outside.

“Will you do the honors?” You hold the plate of cookies out to Oscar.

He grins, and again you’re struck by how sunny his face is, and how reluctant he seemed to hand that smile out. He pinches a Tim Tam between his thumb and index finger and brings it up to his mouth in an exaggerated fashion. You watch his face as he chews thoughtfully.

“Honestly,” he says, “not bad.”

“Not bad?” you pout, slightly miffed. “We worked for hours on this! And all you give me is not bad?”

He chuckles at your annoyance. “Well, look at it this way. We worked on it for a day. The makers of this bad boy—” he fingers the plastic packaging of the original fondly—“have been optimizing the recipe for years.”

“Touché.”

“But really,” he says, suddenly serious, “I think we did great. You did great. I would’ve been totally sunk without you.”

You feel a little bashful at his words. “You too. Thanks for...well, doing this with me.” As if he hadn’t been assigned to.

“I had fun,” Oscar replies simply. And you believe him.

In Home Ec the next morning, as your classmates crowd around your homemade Tim Tams, Oscar meets your eyes, and you both smile.

~

You sit on the couch, ensconced in an unnecessarily fluffy blanket with Oscar beside you, but you’re freezing. Anyone But You plays on the TV—Oscar, of course, missed it while it was in theaters.

Every so often when he leans forward to grab another handful of crisps, his sleeve brushes your bare forearm, and you shiver. The air feels so tense, you feel like it could snap like a rubber band at any time. But Oscar seems blissfully unaware of your rigidness the entire movie, chuckling at the comical moments between Bea and Ben, poking you excitedly in the side at the dramatic shot of the Opera House.

“Can I stay over?” he asks when the end credits play, even though his duffel, complete with a change of clothes, sits ready in the hall. Even though he knows as well as you do that there’s only one answer.

You pretend to consider his question, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm…”

Oscar rolls his eyes and gives you a playful shove. Tingles spread through your body; you grit your teeth against them.

“Okay, fine,” you pretend to relent. “But I’m making you sleep on the couch. I’ve gotten zero sleep this week, and you snore like a lawnmower.”

“What?!” Oscar yelps.

“Kidding,” you smirk, and Oscar shoves you again, sending you toppling into the cushions.

In the bathroom, you’re fully preoccupied brushing your teeth while you replay over and over the scene from earlier in the afternoon, when Oscar grabbed your wrist as you decorated the pavlova. The way he said, No playing with your food, in a way you would have sworn was nothing but filthy—if you didn’t know any better.

“Boo,” someone says in your ear.

You almost jump onto the counter.

“Oscar!” you say, the name coming out muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste. You spit into the sink, turn to face him indignantly. “Jesus, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Oscar nonchalantly squeezes toothpaste onto his own toothbrush, and the two of you continue the evening ministrations side by side, the silence having long since become familiar. He watches you wash your face twice, pat all manner of potions and lotions on your skin. He’s one of the few people who’s ever seen you go through your entire skincare routine, and probably the only one who didn’t immediately get bored, or make some kind of snide comment about it being extra.

“I tried the sunscreen you sent me,” he informs you, and the tinge of pride in his voice warms your heart.

“Oh? It’s about time,” you tease. “Skin’s never looked better.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

You were mostly joking. But how could you say no to those eyes, suddenly filled with genuine hope? “Yep,” you quickly nod.

“Hey, guess what,” Oscar says suddenly.

“What?”

“Last one to the bed sleeps on the floor!” he says as he sprints out of the bathroom.

You fall for this every time.

“HEY!” You race after him, but Oscar’s already dive-bombed into your duvet. “Ahhhhhh,” he says, stretching out all four limbs luxuriously. “I’ve definitely told you this before, but you have great taste in mattresses.”

You just stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed in mock anger, doing your best to affix a glare onto your face.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar holds his palms up, but makes no move to arise. Then he extends an arm across the other—empty—side of the bed.

It takes you a full thirty seconds to realize what he’s suggesting. Your jaw drops.

“What—we can’t just sleep in the same bed!” you sputter, feeling what has to be misplaced panic rise in your chest.

“Why not?” Oscar asks.

Then his eyes narrow.

“Oh.”

You tilt your head quizzically.

“Is…is there someone who might be upset that you did?” Oscar asks flatly, his voice no longer blithe.

“No!” you blurt out, even more flustered at the misunderstanding. “No. I’m not seeing anyone or anything. It’s just—”

If you weren’t so frazzled by the entire situation, maybe you would’ve noticed the twinkle return to his eyes at the rather emphatic denial. “Just what?”

“Just—I mean, isn’t it a little bit weird?”

Oscar shrugs. “Not like we’re going to do anything.”

The thought of doing things with Oscar—nope, nope, bad. Begone, thoughts.

“Um.” You chew on your lower lip. “So you’re serious?”

“If you’re not gonna be weird about it, yeah. What’s the point of sleeping on the floor when there’s literally room for both of us here?”

The point is, Oscar, that even you brushing up against me makes me feel weird. So how do you think my brain’s gonna take sleeping in the same bed together? And how are you so freaking calm about it?

But now you know that if you say no, it’s as good as admitting that you are, in fact, being weird about it. You shake your head. “Using my words against me, huh? Fine. You’re right, there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

And to prove it to Oscar, but actually mostly to yourself, that you see him as nothing more than your best friend, you climb into the empty half of the bed, silently willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest.

~

The day of the glorious Tim Tam show-and-tell, you come home only to realize that Oscar had left his massive bag of sugar in your kitchen.

“That’s some pretty nice sugar, too,” your mom had observed. “Might want to ask him if he wants that back.”

Too bad you gave him your number instead of the other way around. You figure you’ll tell him in Home Ec tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll be awake.

But your phone buzzes with a text as you’re doing the dishes after dinner.

Unknown  Hey, it’s Oscar I think I left my sugar at your house, lol

You remember him staggering under the weight of the bag, and grin as you add him to your contacts.

Me  Haha yeah you did, I can bring it to Home Ec tomorrow?

Oscar  Well actually Wait are you busy rn?

Me  I’m doing the dishes lol but should be done in 5

Oscar  Okay sounds good

Just as you stick the last of the silverware into the drying rack, your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Oscar says. He sounds a little hesitant. “Uh yeah, so, basically I let my sisters try the Tim Tams, and they’re obsessed.”

“Really?” you can’t help but squeal.

“Yeah. So uh, if you didn’t hate baking too much, they would like us to make another batch of them.”

You giggle. “Damn, we could start a business.”

Oscar chuckles on the other end, and you picture his shoulders relaxing, just like they did that first day. “I can come get the sugar,” he says. “We don’t have to use your house this time, I feel bad.”

Your mom’s sitting on the couch in the living room, watching TV next to your dad. She raises an eyebrow at you as you stroll out of the kitchen with your phone pressed to your ear.

“Wait just a sec,” you tell Oscar, and cover the mic with a palm. “Mom. Do you mind us using the kitchen to bake?”

“I heard that!” Oscar’s voice sounds faintly through the speakers.

“Not at all,” your mom says. “Honestly, that KitchenAid hasn’t seen enough of the light for a while now.”

“We’ve got her blessing,” you announce to Oscar triumphantly. “That stand mixer is our oyster.”

When Oscar comes over the next week, you do indeed replicate the Tim Tams, but you also decide to make chocolate chip cookies since you’ve already got everything you need for them. You get into a spirited argument over your preferred consistency—you’ll die on the hill of crispy edges, Oscar refusing to budge an inch on his stance that cookies so underbaked they’re practically liquid are superior.

The perfume emanating from the oven is almost intoxicating. Oscar prematurely yanks the sheet tray out of the oven despite your protests, and proceeds to immediately scald the roof of his mouth on the flaming hot cookies.

“Gooey!” he manages to say in delight, despite the tears forming in his eyes.

You laugh until your sides hurt.

Thus began the odyssey that you two eventually dubbed Piastry of the Week.

next chapter here!

~

taglist: @sideboobrry11

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader

[total-lost-boys-simp]

Water Might be Thicker Than Blood

TLB!Poly! x Fem Reader

Chapter 4

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

The obnoxious warm beams of the sun forced their way through the thick patterned curtains. “Ngh…what time is it?” (Y/N) asked herself as she sat up in her bed. Her bed? When did she come home last night? She just remembers the boys & her brother going out and them never coming back, but nothing about going home.

Looking down at her bedside table (Y/N) picked up the little analog alarm clock. Squinting her still tired eyes she saw the big and little hands telling her it was seven thirty-three. “God, why is it so early?” (Y/N) asked herself as she put the clock down and headed down to the kitchen. 

She had narrowly missed her mom heading off to work as she heard her pull out of the dirt driveway. “Well that’s one lecture avoided for now,” (Y/N) muttered as she opened the fridge. (Y/N) felt her life flash before her eyes when a voice jumped out from behind, “What’u doin’ up so early?” 

“Jesus, grandpa!” (Y/N) exclaimed as she whipped around. 

“Better not be goin’ through any of my root beers & oreos, ya hear?” Grandpa aggressively pointed his finger at the still open fridge.

“I don’t plan on it, just gonna make some breakfast. Do you want any?” (Y/N) queried as she rummaged through the fridge. 

“Nah that’s all you kiddo, I’m goin’ back to my handy work,” grandpa laughed as he walked to his taxidermy room.

“...Okay then, bacon & eggs for one it is then.”

After breakfast (Y/N) spent some time basking in the vibrant warm glow of the daylight while reading a book in the sun room at the front of the house. She still couldn’t believe how different her life had become in just a short couple of days. Going from having no one but her mom & brothers to have six new, exciting, adventurous and untroubled people in her life. As she was thinking about the changes she started thinking more about the boys and how they were kind of…hot? With their leather clad looks and wind catching bikes. They just lure you in with their standout features and wild personalities. At least they lured (Y/N), like a naive little fish to a worm on a hook…Or maybe she’s the one luring them? No, she’s definitely the one that took the bait…especially as she thought of everytime their briskly cold fingers grazed her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. 

(Y/N) was so lost in her thoughts about the boys that she hadn’t even noticed her brothers whining at each other upstairs. What is it this time, she thought as she stood up going towards the stairs. “What’s going on up there?” She shouted from the base of the staircase. “Mom’s on the phone!” Sam shouted. (Y/N) walked up just to see what her brother’s were getting up to. “Uh yeah…hey mom, (Y/N)’s here…you should talk to her too,” Michael suggested with a smirk on his face extending the phone to (Y/N). His sister just knew he was too hungover from last night to talk to their mom…why else would he be wearing sunglasses inside? She snatched the phone out of his hands before flipping him off and walking a foot or so away. 

“Oh hey mom…what’s up?” (Y/N) asked, cautious about what’s to come. 

“Hi sweetie, I was just telling you brother that I’d like the two of you to watch Sam while I’m out tonight,” Her mom’s sweet and soft voice sounded fuzzy over the landline. 

“Well I was kind of hoping to go meet up with some friends…” (Y/N) demurred.

“(Y/N) you know how it’s been, I’d just like to have a night for me. Could you two please just watch your brother?” 

“But mom-” 

“(Y/N), you and Michael can’t just be going out all night whenever you want, I already told your brother all of this. I’d just like to be the one going out tonight,”

(Y/N) sighed, “Yeah of course mom. Stay safe tonight, okay?”

“Of course sweetie, I’ll be a phone call away.” 

“Alright, love you…bye,” (Y/N) said as she hung up the phone and handed it back to Michael. 

“I’m going back down stairs, no one talk to me for the foreseeable future,” (Y/N) huffed as she stomped down the stairs. She was just so frustrated. Sam is a teenager at this point, he can be by himself! Why should (Y/N) have to stay cooped up in here keeping an eye on him? This girl just wants to use up what little bits of freedom she has left for the summer before she has to go back to college courses and part time job hunting. It’s not that she’s upset with her mom, she’s just upset that her mom told her to stay with Sam as if he were still a baby. 

Day turned to night as (Y/N) disgruntledly went back to her book and calmed herself down. At this point the sun had already set and the radiant moonlight seeped into the glass room she was resting in. Barely realizing what time it was (Y/N) looked up from her provocative page and saw the wind picking up, forcing trees to lean their way back and wind chimes ready to take flight. “I haven’t eaten since like 8am…,” she mumbled to herself as she got up and walked to the kitchen where her brother was. 

“Hey, want a sandwich, I’m making some for me and Mike,” Sam asked. 

“Yeah sure,” his sister sighed as she leaned on the table. 

“Still upset?” Sam questioned as he pulled out the bread. 

“No, just annoyed now.” 

“Yeah of course you are,” Sam snickered. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Before (Y/N) could get an answer Grandpa came rushing in harshly setting a couple things on the counter as he asked, “Hey anything around here that might pass for uh- a aftershave?” 

Sam started looking around before reaching and saying,”How bout some Windex, Grandpa?” he suggested, sniffing the bottle. Oh my god, this is ridiculous (Y/N) thought as she watched this ludicrous scene play out in front of her. “Yeah yeah, let me get some of that, huh?” Grandpa said as he hastily walked towards Sam. Grandpa let out a weird, “Yeahhh…” before rubbing a few spritzes of windex on his face, causing Sam to let out a laugh. As this was happening, Michael sauntered into the kitchen asking, “You got a big date tonight, Grandpa?”  

“Yeah hahaha,” Grandpa let out as he walked over to the counter past Michael, “Just gonna drop by some of my handiwork to the widow Johnson.”

“What you stuff for her, Mr. Johnson?” Michael mocked with a smirk. 

“That wasn’t funny Mike!” Sam exclaimed as ‘La Cucaracha’ honked outside. 

“Yeah, maybe get off your high horse and be respectful a bit?” (Y/N) suggested as she sat on the kitchen counter. Michael glared at his older sister.

Looking up at his older brother, Sam insisted, “I’m going to make you a sandwich.” to which he responded, “Don’t bother.” (Y/N) watched as her brothers bickered and grew ever so slightly more upset and annoyed with each other. Before she could jump in the three were caught off guard by roaring motorcycles, glaring bright lights and the wind causing everything window to open and clatter. “What the hell?” Michael shouted walking closer to the windows. “What’s causing this?” (Y/N) exclaimed as she hopped off the counter and went into the living room with her brothers. The revving of the bikes was not met with whooping and hollering even a faint calling of an all too familiar domineering platinum haired biker. (Y/N) ran to the front door and flung it open with Michael right behind her and Sam shouting, “(Y/N) what are you doing?! Don’t!” but as soon as they all looked outside things went silent, still, mysterious. 

“What’s going on guys?” Sam asked as Michael closed the door.

“It’s nothing, don't worry Sammy,” (Y/N) tried reassuring her little brother. 

“Go take your bath,” Michael quietly commanded his little brother.

After Sam went upstairs (Y/N) asked, “Michael, what’s going on? Really? Did something happen last night with the boys? Did you get into some kind of trouble?” She followed her brother around expecting an answer. “Leave it alone, (Y/N),” Michael tried hush his sister's interrogation. “No, not until-” she was cut off by her brother whipping around inches away from her saying, “Leave. It. Alone.” Mildly intimidated and extremely annoyed (Y/N) exclaimed, “Fine, whatever! I don’t give a damn anyways,” and stomped upstairs. 

(Y/N) decided now was as good a time as any to try and drift off to sleep while reading her book. It’s something that always helps her when she’s stressed, ever since she was a kid. Flopping down on her bed she heard something clamor to the ground. What was that, she thought as she peered over her mattress. It was a walkman, the same walkman she was using when she was in the cave. While (Y/N) got this warm feeling inside, she also had a rush of chills. So the boys really were here? That revving and shouting and screeching was actually them? But how did they disappear so quickly? How did they get the walkman into (Y/N)’s room on the second floor? Things that probably would make sense at any other time but just didn’t at the moment with all that just happened. “I don’t want to think about this anymore,”she murmured to herself, “I’m not sure I really want to,” putting the headphones on, hitting play and opening her book. 

There was an atmosphere of tranquility in the air for a few minutes letting (Y/N) enjoy her thrilling novel before she heard a rambunctious thud outside her room. “What the hell?” She whispered as she took off the headphones and got out of bed. Walking out into the hallway and to Sam’s door (Y/N) knocked asking, “Sam, is everything okay?” Without an answer Sam launched open the door and pulled his sister into the room. “(Y/N) he’s a vampire, like a real vampire!The one’s in the movies! He wants to drain our blood! He’s going to tear us apart!” Sam shouted nonsense in his older sister’s face. “What are you talking about?” She asked. She didn’t get an answer, instead Sam picked up the phone right when it rang. 

“Hello,” he asked, “Mom, I think we have to have a real long talk about something.” Sam kept going as screaming could be heard from Michael’s bedroom. What the hell, is all (Y/N) could think. “Mom…uh-oh” Sam stammered into the phone, “No,” he paused, “Now we should stay calm,” he paused again, “Oh nothing, nothing,” pause, “Mom, I can’t talk about it over the phone it’s about Michael,” instead of a pause Sam looks past (Y/N) and screamed bloody murder! Thinking this is a prank now (Y/N) looks behind her- NOPE! Her other brother is FLYING OUTSIDE THE DAMN WINDOW. “Holy crap! What is going on?!” (Y/N) shouted as she grabbed onto her not-flying baby brother. Sam kept screaming into the phone and panicking causing their mother to panic as well. 

(Y/N) on the other hand wanted to scream but she just sat there in shock trying to make sense of all of this. She wanted to think rationally, maybe it was a prank her conniving little brothers pulled…Sam’s acting was never that good though. Michael doesn’t look like he’s attached to any rope either. Was her brother really flying? Was he really outside a second story window with nothing preventing him from floating off except a telephone cord? When did this start? How did it start? What’s going to happen? All the questions raced through (Y/N) head as she sat in a silent state of panic while both her brothers went crazy. 

She snapped back to reality once she heard Michael begging for help, “I’m your brother, open the window!” he screamed hysterically. Running to the window (Y/N) opened it immediately pulling her brother through and keeping him grounded. Sam sat on the ground next to his older siblings. In a huff Michael said, “We have to stick together.” To which Sam asked, “What about mom?” (Y/N) looked over at him and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Sam started to panic again, “I don’t know guys, it’s not like getting a D in school or something.” Michael reassured his little brother that he and (Y/N) would figure it out. 

Just as the three of them quieted down their mother came rushing into the house, “Sam?!” She shouted repeatedly running into the house. “Oh Sam are you alright?! You had me scared to death!” Lucy exclaimed, coming up to her son. “He’s fine, mom, he just got frightened by one of his comic books. I’m sorry he called you, I should have checked up on him,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away. That’s all,” Sam said with a shrug.” Oh the look on this poor woman’s face right now…”You got carried away by a comic book?!” oh no. “It was a scary comic, I’m sorry,” Sam was trying his best at least? 

“You know, I just about had it with all three of you! You know that?” Lucy jabbed at two of her kids. They knew better than to talk back, everyone in this room has been in this situation one too many times. Lucy turned her head to the kitchen and walked over asking, “What is this mess?!” she continued, “You spill milk all over the kitchen floor and you don’t bother to clean it up?” picking the white milk carton off the floor. “We didn’t-” (Y/N) was cut off as her mom went on to say, “I can’t believe you people, and the refrigerator door-” Blah blah blah, was all (Y/N) as she tuned her family out. She didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore so she walked up to her room ignoring her mother’s shouts and modest threats of “punishment”. She just knew her mom wouldn’t follow, she never does.

Instead of staying in her room (Y/N) snuck out of the house closely behind Michael. She startled her little brother as her shoes broke dried branches and leaves. Whipping his fluffed brunette curls around, “What- damn it (Y/N) be quiet. What are you doing here?” he asked his sister. “You’re going to get your answers, I’m going to get mine. We’ll see who has better luck,” she proclaimed, causing Michael to roll his eyes. “Fine, get on. I’ll drop you off at the boardwalk.”

Everything was as lively and exciting as it usually was down here. The carnival rides and the illuminating neon lights of the arcades & shops made (Y/N) almost nauseous after the night she had. She walked up and down the boardwalk a couple times without seeing any sign of the boys. Where are they? What else could they be doing right now? She mentally asked herself. Suddenly, a cold breath and smooth voice nipped at her neck behind her saying, “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Snapping around (Y/N) was met with David less than an inch from her face.

 “I came looking for you,” she revealed with uncertainty in her voice. 

“Oh yeah?” the scruffy bleach blonde asked with one eyebrow raised. 

 “Yeah…where are the others? I want to talk to them too,” (Y/N) shakily demanded looking David in the eye.

 “They’re with the bikes, follow me,” David ordered, grabbing (Y/N) by the hand. 

After a short walk to the rest of the group (Y/N) could feel the pit forming in her stomach, scared of what’s to come.

“Hey mama, where’ve you been?!” shouted Paul as he spotted (Y/N) and David. 

“Man, why does David get special treatment but we don’t?” Marko pouted, seeing David and (Y/N) hold hands.

“Stop making her uncomfortable, guys,” Dwayne quieted the two boys up. 

Standing there (Y/N) felt stuck, she was frozen nervous…completely different than how she was just one night ago. She snatched her hand away from David, not realizing he still held onto it. She tried to look anywhere except the boys, her refusal to speak didn’t help the situation.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” asked Marko with what (Y/N) hoped was a look of genuine concern. 

“I- uh yeah, I’m just feeling a little off tonight…” she trailed her words. 

“Why’s that?” David asked, peering down at her as he lit a cigarette. 

“I don’t know…some stuff just happened tonight that made me a little…worried, I guess?”

“Like what? Hope it was nothing too, rev-viting,” Paul snickered as his comment earning him a hard nudge from Dwayne. 

“What? Uh no- Actually. You know what? Sort of, it was crashing and loud, then confusing, then shocking, then mildly frightening and I feel like you all have something to do with it!” (Y/N) shouted waving her hands about emphasizing her frustration. 

“Someone catches on quick,” David huffed out with his smoke. 

“What?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, I thought it’d take her at least a few more days. Like three,” Paul shrugged, grinning down as (Y/N).

“Huh?” was all she could belt out in her confusion.

“Really? I thought a week, maybe more,” Marko chuckled, his stare becoming darker. 

“Just let me-,”(Y/N) couldn’t get another word in among the boys. 

“C’mon, you don’t give the girl enough credit. We all know she’s smarter than that,” David jested to his friends, swinging an arm around the tense girl next to him, “You’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you, (Y/N)?”

“Most likely,” her voice felt small and deaf to her ears. 

“You can say it, don’t be shy,” he assured her, coming up behind her ever so close, enough to just feel his presence as terrorizing as it was right now. He leaned down, his surprisingly warm breath met her ear, “No one will hear you.”

“Oh just stop, you’re vampires,” (Y/N) attested in false confidence, really she was about to barf in her mouth, she was so nervous. “Everything got weird the night you took us to the cave…I kept racking my brain trying to figure out what happened that night that could have made my brother like you. I thought it was something stupid like you lacing our food or the weed making us trip out when we got home. That wasn’t it obviously since Sam was Michael flying too. Then I realized, “Wait, this is only happening to Michael?” then BAM it hit me! The wine wasn’t wine-” Let’s be real no 19-20 sum year olds are going to drink wine to get blasted with friends.

Paul jumped off his bike and up to (Y/N)’s face exclaiming, “We never said it was,” grabbing her waist and bringing her in tight. David pushed the dirty blonde punk off of her, to (Y/N)’s relief, in what could have been a spur of jealousy? No, these guys are staring at this poor girl like she’s table scraps being thrown on the floor for a group of starving caged wolves. Why would they get jealous over who gets to touch her? 

“Anyways,” (Y/N) continued, “you gave him blood, who’s blood? I don’t know but it definitely wasn’t human so it must’ve been one of you. And you know what, I don’t care! I don’t care that you’re angry I figured it out! I don’t care if you feel threatened since I know your secret! I don’t care if you drain every once of blood from my body because after the night I’ve had I don’t care about anything right now! I’m scared, I’m frustrated and I’m just really pissed off! How did I go from having a safe, secure normal life one state over to possibly getting eaten by creatures that shouldn’t even exist!I hardly know any of you, I don’t know how you got to Santa Carla, I don’t know where you’re from, who any of you used to be, how many people you’ve killed!? How could I be so naive!? I just- how did I end up here?!” (Y/N) felt her face heat up as warm salted tears kept streaming down her eyes like a river. With every gasp for air between sobs she could feel the lump in her throat getting larger making it more and more difficult to breathe. (Y/N) didn’t realize just how much anger and heartbreak she had built up in her until now, this was just what pushed her over the edge. She tried wiping away her tears with the hem of her sleeves but every rub of fabric made her eyes itchy. 

(Y/N) didn’t bother looking up once she felt the secure embrace of a leather dressed vampire with his arms wrapped around her upper back and his chin resting on the top of her head, “We don’t want to “eat” you, you don’t have to worry about that, ever,” Dwayne’s smooth voice, comforting, fixed hold and rhythmic “breathing” were enough to keep (Y/N) from choking between hysteric sobs. 

           “Let’s go for a ride,” Marko suggested, resting his hand on (Y/N) shoulder. His sudden touch made the poor girl flinch. That may have been the first time Marko ever experienced heart break in his undead life. “Hey man, she’s scared and on edge, let’s chill,” Paul leaned down and whispered to his short curly fry of a friend. “No, it’s cool, I’m down…sorry Marko,”(Y/N)’s voice was hoarse and slimy from all her crying. 

“So where are we going?” (Y/N) asked as she jumped up and threw her leg over the back of David’s bike. 

“You’ll see,” was David’s only response from the bleach blonde vamp. 

“How can I trust you?” (Y/N) asked again, wrapping her arms around his waist, interlocking her fingers tight. 

 Before speeding off Marko shouted, “You got on the bike didn’t you?!” 

The boys came to a screeching halt causing (Y/N) to thrust her body onto David’s back, “Holy fuck guys, are we here?” she exclaimed, confused by the very sudden stop…why are they at a convenience store? “No, just figured we’d get you something to eat for later,” Paul replied, hopping off his bike. “For later? Why not now? (Y/N) asked, pushing up on David’s shoulders to get off his still hot and revving motorcycle. “Trust us, you don’t want to eat right now,” Paul honestly seems like the only one willing to say any words and also seems like the only one willing to go into the store with the puzzled girl of the group. “You guys need to stop being so vague all the time,” she said before walking in with the sandy blonde biker. 

After getting food and continuing their ride it wasn’t long before the spirited group reached their final destination; a secluded beachfront park. “Hey Paul,” (Y/N) called out. “Yeah?” the sandy blonde shot back. “Were you just messing with me?” the delish girl asked, fidgeting with her jacket. “Wha’ do you mean?” The bronze medallion chain on his jacket glimmered as he turned towards (Y/N). As the group walked on (Y/N) didn’t notice the boys falling back and slowly disappearing one by one. “I mean back at the convenience store when- Paul? Paul, where you- Paul, Marko, David…Dwayne?” The now disconcerted and very perplexed girl was frantically searching for the group she had arrived with. Distant screams rang out just a few yards away. Instantly (Y/N) started chasing the noise, she just knew it had to be them, it had to be the boys…well they had to be the cause. 

What (Y/N) had come across was enough to make anyone throw up the turn tail in fear, but (Y/N)...she couldn’t even move. She felt stuck, like her feet were glued to the grass. Actually, not just her feet, her whole body was frozen solid. It was like if she moved…she’d be next no matter how many times they told her she wouldn’t. “(Y/N)!You made it just in time,” David called out as soon as he saw the petrified girl. He dropped the body, of what looked like a young teenager, onto the ground…a spine tingling crunch could be heard as David needlessly stepped on the kid’s knee cap deforming the body part causing parts of the femur and tibia to peak out amongst torn muscle and flesh. What little blood left in the teen oozed its way out from the injury and the puncture mark on their neck. “Why don’t you come get a closer look,” David announced, raising one of his arms while using the other to wipe blood off of his face. “I…” was all that (Y/N) could muster before the rest of the boys emerged, each doused in rich crimson hemoglobin smothering them from mouth to chest. “(Y/N) it’s alright-” before Dwayne could cautiously continue, “Boo,” Marko whispered in the poor petrified girl's ear. In that very moment she was from pure stone to jelly as she let out a blood curdling shriek and fell to her knees as she tried to run. I’m never going to survive an apocalypse (Y/N) thought to herself. She sat on her knees, hands to her side, head to the sky, her chest rising & falling- lungs gathering as much air as they could. David and the rest of the boys walked up to her, their leader getting down on one knee before grabbing (Y/N) by the chin and pulling her face close. The stench of iron made (Y/N) nose’s burn and eyes water with how strong it was. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” David bit his lip and whispered before shoving the timid girl into the grass and walking away. 

“Are you okay?” Dwayne asked as he and Marko trudged over to the meek girl, Paul following close behind. “I…yeah? But no? I don’t know?” she responded just really upset and confused at this point. “David gets off on eating people and scaring them but we didn’t think he’d do that,” Marko explained as Dwayne and himself helped (Y/N) up. “Yeah...I noticed,” was all she could get out at that moment. Marko threw his jacket around (Y/N)’s shoulders revealing his fit yet not overtly muscular arms. That’s a little surprising, (Y/N) thought as she felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. With a smirk as if he knew what she was thinking, the short curly haired biker asked, “Something on your mind?” Averting her gaze she replied, “Nope, we should get back to the bikes.” 

The three vamps and their frustrated friend walked back in silence. Even when they met up with David…silence. The ride home…silence. Everything about that night became awkward and silent as (Y/N) let it all sink in. 

“Hey, we’re sorry about tonight…It was supposed to be a joke, really,” Paul said as he helped (Y/N) off the bike and to her Grandpa’s front door. “Yeah sure…I’ll see you guys later,” she responded, not even making eye contact before heading inside.

taglist: @sadslasher13 @crowleydeclare @bdudette @sophiaj650 @henhouse-horrors

#alex winter #kiefer sutherland #billy wirth #brooke mccarter #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #80s vampires #the lost boys #tlb 1987 #santa carla

[pinky-ghostface]

Two Valentines Day Surprises

summary: It's Valentine's Day, a very important holiday to Alphonse and his Boo, but Seth is across the country and can't get back to them in time. Alphonse wants to cheer the reader up with a sweet surprise, but neither of them are prepared for the true surprise meant for them.

content/warnings: nsfw, femdom, pegging, strap on blowjob, deepthroating, nipple play, mmf threesome, hair pulling, p in v sex, afab gn!reader (no mention of boobs but they are referred to once as "a cruel mistress")

word count: 4.2k

wanna read it on ao3?:

A/N: I actually began this a couple years ago but finally decided to finish it😁 and things have def changed in the canon since I started. I think I thought after the Jessie/Derek situation Seth wouldn't want to settle down just yet in the little town he wasn't wanted in so long ago and would want to explore his freedom after prison and like, go on cryptid hunts or smth😚 so.. ig this is a semi AU where he does odd jobs across the country and experiences everything the road has to offer a lonely cowboy like him lol. and definitely listening to Orville Peck. also frequently communicating w Alphonse and SugarBoo bc they luv each otherrr🥰 and sometimes taking a break from his nomadic life to visit them. enjoy!

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

As I pushed my key into the lock of my front door, I heard a muttered curse from inside my home. Confused, I opened the door and peered into the kitchen to see my boyfriend’s very shapely, and completely bare, ass with just two thin strips of fabric tied behind his waist and neck to feign at covering him. “Al? I didn’t think you were coming over so soon?” 

He whirled around, revealing that he was wearing nothing but my favorite apron. “Oh! Hey, boo! Uhh, what time is it… I guess I thought I’d have more time for your surprise, heh.” He grinned at me sheepishly. 

“Surprise? Thought we were just gonna do dinner and a movie at home.” My eyes slid over his body as I took off my coat.

He smiled and moved closer so that he could loosely circle his arms around my hips. “I know, but I could tell you were kind of bummed about Seth not being here for Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to do somethin’ nice and romantic for you to cheer you up.” 

I smiled a little sadly and leaned my head into his shoulder. It was hard not seeing our other partner every day, but we both understood how important traveling and going on adventures was to him. We texted and called often, and Alphonse and I had been together long enough before Seth crashed back into Al’s life and cannonballed into mine that we were more than okay on our own. We talked about him daily, and on days when one of us missed him a little too much the other would be there to reminisce, joke, cuddle, and comfort until the ache went away. 

“But I guess that didn’t really work out, huh?” Al said, interrupting my thoughts. 

I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?...oh.” I looked over his shoulder at the rest of my kitchen for the first time since walking in. I guessed I hadn’t smelled the burnt cupcakes that were sitting dejectedly on the stovetop. They were black on top and red goo was periodically dripping over the sides of the muffin tin.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “You’re lucky I already cleaned up the spilled cake mix from the walls, the eggs I dropped, the… exploded buttercream frosting.” He shuddered. “Sorry, baby. I kind of messed up your kitchen for nothing. I don’t think those abominations can be saved.” 

I smiled up at him and brought my hand to his cheek. “Al, it’s fine. Really. It won’t take too long to scrub out the muffin tray, so we can have even more time together tonight. I’m glad you came over early!”

He pulled me closer and buried his head in the crook of my neck, whining. “I know, but I had, like, a whole thing planned out! I was gonna make a bunch of red velvet cupcakes for you so you could take a break from baking for once, and turn the lights down and do the ‘rose petals on the floor going to the bath’ thing and meet you in the bathroom with the cupcakes like this,” he gestured to himself with one arm, his face still in my neck. “And I was gonna feed you your cupcakes in the bath and give you a back rub and maybe even try to call Brown Eyes if he hadn’t left his rest stop yet…”

“Babe,” I said, halting his rambling. “We can still do all that, even without the baked surprise. I mean, I was pretty surprised just coming home to this, anyway.” I ran a finger underneath the apron ribbon on his waist. ‘I have so many treats already in the fridge for us, you have no idea. We’re gonna have a great Valentine’s Day.” 

He held me tighter and nodded but said nothing for a moment. After a few seconds, I heard him sigh through his nose. “I just miss him, y’know? This was supposed to be the first Valentine’s we all spent together. It just sucks we didn’t tell him we wanted to do something sooner so he could have time to get up here. I wanted to make it up to you a little bit.” 

Oh. I turned my head to look at him so that he was forced to take his head off my shoulder, and I wound my arms more fully around his waist, he and I chest-to-chest and my face looking up at his pouting one. “Alphonse, you don’t have anything to make up to me. I know this isn’t what we were picturing, but it isn’t either of our faults, and I’m still prepared to have an awesome, romantic, sexy Valentine’s Day with you. Seth should be stopping for the night near New Mexico in a couple hours; we can talk to him then. Until then we can have plenty of fun on our own, right?” 

Al smiled and leaned in even closer so our lips were just barely touching. “Yeah,” he breathed. “That sounds good. Now we’ve got more time to spoil each other, anyway. We don’t need that crybaby to have fun.” 

I laughed against his mouth. “Careful. You looked about ready to cry, yourself when I walked in.” His lips curved up playfully for a moment before quickly leaning in to kiss me. My hands gripped his waist more firmly in surprise, and he tightened his arms even further around me, pressing us fully together so his hands could move up my back. My left hand drifted downward to shamelessly squeeze his bare ass cheek. As my fingertips drew closer inward, they brushed something… plastic? 

I broke the kiss to look up at him in shock. I was met with cocked eyebrows and a toothy grin in silent response. “That would be the other part of your surprise. You’ve been puttin’ out vibes that you wanted to take control lately, and I thought tonight would be the perfect time to make a night of it.” 

I gasped in elation, smiling wildly, and kissed him hard for a moment. As I pulled away, I gave him a light swat on the butt and told him, “Get the strap.” 

“Yes, Boss!” he said, still grinning, but instead of moving past me to reach the bedroom, he turned around and retrieved my bubblegum pink strap on dildo and harness from behind the coffee pot on a nearby counter. 

Naughty boy, he’d planned out more than I’d thought. 

He handed it to me, smug as ever. I undressed quickly and performed the awkward, yet familiar dance of shimmying into the harness. Al and I exchanged one more lingering, messy kiss before he took a step back and sank to his knees. 

My eyebrows quirked in surprise as I gazed down at him, amused and loving. “Aw, you wanna choke on my strap, baby?” I teased. He smoothed his hands up my thighs, half-lidded eyes never leaving their gaze. “You know I’d love nothing more,” he mumbled against the tip. He took it into his mouth, sucking softly, and worked his way to the base quickly. As the tip hit the back of his throat, he pushed on, gagging slightly. I raked my nails through the hair on the back of his head, grabbing a handful to help him down. He choked loudly, and his hands tightened on the backs of my thighs, nearly making my knees buckle. A strand of drool hung down, reaching his chest, and he moaned deeply through his nose as he continued to deepthroat me. By now his cheeks were rosy flushed and tears were begging to fall from their perch on his long, dark lashes. “So pretty,” I murmured, pushing my fingers through his bright, slightly bleach-damaged hair more gently now, softly scratching his scalp. He looked up at me with an expression that could only be described as adoring, and I loved him for it. “My good boy.”

“Mmm…” he groaned at the praise. 

I tugged him off my strap and squeezed his shoulder, telling him to get up. When he got on his feet, he kissed me hard, wet mouth exploring mine, our teeth clashing a bit. He held on to me tightly and I embraced him, enjoying his being so desperate already. It was really no surprise he had such an oral fixation with all the lollipops he sucked on all day. 

With my arms around his waist and hands rubbing his lower back, I turned my face upwards so my lips could brush his ear and whisper: “Since you’ve done such a good job of getting my cock wet, I’d guess you were ready to let me bend you over that table and make you see tweety birds.” 

He lifted his head up from my shoulder and smiled dopily. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were onto somethin’, boo.” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine to whisper to me huskily. “I want you to mess me up.” 

With that confirmation, I pulled him with me toward my kitchen table, kissing him all the while. I turned us so his back was to the table and ran my hands up his chest, to his shoulders, to his neck, and gently began to tug at the bow holding the apron up. “I have been dying to tear this off you since the second I walked in,” I huffed hurriedly. 

Alphonse leaned down so our faces were even and looked at me with dark, dilated eyes. “Well, I promise not to keep you waiting if you promise not to tease.” I laughed and gripped his chin harshly. “Al, sweetheart, you’re really not in a position to be making deals like that.” I slowly pulled at the ribbon string in my hand until the bow loosened, and the light fabric that sparsely covered him fell off his defined chest, spilling around the attractive “v” of his hips and exposing his dark happy trail. “If you want me to give you what you need, you’ll need to accept that I can do anything I want to you.” I leaned in to nibble and suck at his neck, and he sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. My other hand teased down the top of his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, and paused to tweak a nipple. He yelped a bit, and when I let go of his chin, his head rolled back. My hand continued down to his hard cock, his raspy breaths keeping time with slow, languid strokes while his hips tried to buck up into my fist. I circled his tip with my thumb lightly, teasingly.

“You’re a cruel mistress, you know that?” he said to the ceiling. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love it, but it’s true. And as for what position I’m s’posed to be in, I’ll let you worry about that.” He opened one eye and looked at me. “You know I’ve never objected to you doing anything you wanted to me before.” 

“Hmm,” I mused, finishing a necklace of hickies across his clavicle. “Well, if that’s the case…” I grabbed his hips and turned him around quickly. He grunted in surprise and planted his hands on the table quickly to catch himself. He looked back at me with wide yet delighted eyes. “You wouldn’t mind if I finish what you started, would you?” I held the base of his plug in my fingertips, twisting it just a little, for emphasis. 

“Hah!... “Course not, Boss. You know I’m yours to play with however you please.” he said, a bit strained, and leaned even farther over the table. “Good,” I whispered, and eased the buttplug out of him. He exhaled slowly and forcefully, and eased his back into an arch. I placed it on the counter next to me. I smoothed one hand up his spine, admiring the pale expanse of his back and the cute pink bow still tied around his waist. With the other, I lined my pink dildo up to his hole and slowly, slowly, began to push in. “Mm!” Alphonse cried, stifled. I eased in carefully, rubbing his back and cooing at him the whole time.

Once completely inside, Al moaned loudly and pushed his hips back more to try and grind on my cock. To his disappointment, I almost completely pulled out of him. But before he could protest, I swiftly pushed in all the way, rubbing against his prostate. 

“Fuck, ohh, christ,” he choked out. I laughed a little at his reaction and kept fucking him the same way: slow and hard. 

I took the time to admire him- his fluffy hair mussed up, his cheek smooshed into the table, his eyebrows drawn together wantonly, and deep, rhythmic moans falling from them. My eyes drifted lower, loving the way the sheer of sweat on his lean back made his skin shine. Even lower, that bubble butt was still making me lose focus, rippling from the force of my hips meeting it with every thrust. 

And with every thrust, the base of the dildo ground into my clit, making me drive forward more quickly, more harshly, chasing the sweet sensation. I unknowingly gave Alphonse exactly what he wanted, it seemed, because he melted beneath me. His knees nearly gave out and he looked back at me, panting slightly. “Does that feel good, baby?” I grinned at him. “Nnghh,” he replied, letting his head fall back down. 

The building pleasure below and seeing his sweet expression gave me an idea for something else I wanted from him. 

I slowed down and pumped into him a few more times, then pulled out gingerly; he whined in confusion and tried to turn around. I leaned over him fully and put my lips next to his ear. “I want to ride your dick so I can see your pretty face when you come in me.” He picked his head up again, leaving behind a small pool of saliva, and grinned tiredly and replied, “If I can walk to the couch, you can make this already good Valentine’s Day a great one, boo.” 

When I pulled him up, the apron fell off him completely and he hugged me around my neck, leaning most of his weight on me. It must have looked funny, this lanky guy hanging off me, half-carrying him to the living room, and shoving him backwards onto my couch. He fell with little effort and a small oof. He looked up at me as I wriggled out of the harness, kicked it aside, and moved to straddle his thighs, and he said breathlessly, “Come take what’s yours.”

His dick was flushed pink and leaking against his stomach. So pretty. I took it in my hand and stroked it slowly, and at the same time leant forward and kissed him firmly. “I intend to,” I whispered against his lips, to which he smiled and squeezed my hips in his hands. I lifted my hips and guided his cock to my hole, and slowly sank down, moaning. I was already so wet from fucking him, and he slid in so easily. As the backs of my thighs met his hips, he threw his head back and let out a long, low sound through parted lips. With one hand on his chest and the other beside his head, I began to rock slowly, murmuring praise to him all the while. His hands slid up my body and he was begging me to go faster between whimpers, so I gently took his wrists in both my hands and pinned them on either side of his head on the armrest. He flexed his arms, but didn’t try to break free. His eyes were squeezed shut as I sucked on his neck, leaving a new rainbow of hickies. 

As I worked my way up to his jawline, I heard him suck in a harsh breath and he tried to sit up quickly. I blurted his name, confused, and sat back to look at him. His wide-eyed gaze was fixed behind me, towards the door, and I heard a low chuckle. Before I could turn around in surprise, or get myself off my man’s dick so I could fight off an intruder, a warm, rough hand curled around my waist and a familiar face leaned its chin on my shoulder.

“Well, ain’t this a pretty sight to come home to,” a deep voice drawled. He may have also said something teasing us for having so much fun without him, but Alphonse or I’d have no way of knowing because once I- ahem- removed him, we were all over Seth, hugging him and asking how on earth he made it all the way here. Once we’d settled in a pile, all of us kind of sitting on everyone else, he began to explain.

“You knuckleheads really thought I’d miss Valentine’s Day?” he laughed between kisses. “I’m no dummy, I know how y’all feel about it. I just thought I’d surprise you and tell you I was farther away than I was, but I’ve been making my way back to you for the last five days.” He had one arm around my shoulders and cupped Alphonse’s face with the other. “I thought when I got back y’all would be moping around, missin’ me. Instead, I come home to you both screwing like jackalopes without a care in the world.” he teased, pouting. 

Alphonse huffed. “What, we’re just supposed to spend our favorite holiday cryin’ our eyes out over you? That ain’t fair!”

“Mmm, I think he just means he missed being included in our cuddle puddle,” I purred and leaned my head on Al’s shoulder. 

“That, or the idea of you two being horny-sad thinkin’ of me keeps me warm on lonely nights.”

I glared at Seth. “You aren’t helping.”

He laughed. “No, but I love the look on my bubblegum prince’s face when he’s trying to be mad at me.” He leaned in close so he was an inch from Al’s flustered face. “But really he’s dyin’ to be put right back on his back so I can really show him how much I missed him.” 

The poor man’s blush deepened, and he grumbled a little. 

I smiled and wrapped my arms around Seth’s shoulders, pulling him back so we were both staring at Al. “I think he needs us, don’t you agree? Maybe you could help me put him back in his place.”

“Oh, no, sugar, this here’s your battle. As much as I’d love to beat the brat out of him, I’m too tired to really give it my all. I’d prefer to hang back and take a more… supporting role.” He smooched the side of my neck and leaned back. 

Grinning at Al, I put my hand on his chest and started to push him back down like he was. “Well, baby? You gonna put up a fight now that you know big bad Seth’s not gonna force you to sit pretty for me?”

He shook his head and grabbed my hand to kiss it. “I’m his brat, but I’ll always behave for you, boo.”

Seth chuckled and moved to straddle Al’s thighs behind me. “Well, he knows what’s good for him, that’s for sure.” 

Alphonse began to reply. “Shut up, man- agh!” 

I yanked his hair sharply. “Maybe not. But we can correct that together some other time. Right now, I only care about enjoying the rest of my evening the way I’d dreamed of spending it, with both my boys.” 

He whimpered softly. “Yes, Boss.”

Seth was so close to me I could feel his chest pressed against my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder again. “I always love to watch you work, sugar,” he breathed flirtily against my ear. He reached around me for Alphonse’s cock, and the second he touched it Al let out a huge sigh. He pumped it up and down in his fist a few times, surely enjoying the way his pearly precum dripped over the pink tip. I lifted my hips up so Seth could help me guide it in, and sank down, more easily this time and no less pleasurable. I could feel Seth smirking against my neck as he held onto my hip with one hand and held Al’s hand with the other. 

Al was already settled back into our former rhythm with his free hand gripping the side of my thigh, head thrown back against the armrest and eyes closed in bliss, moaning with each bounce of my hips. “So glad you’re here, Seth,” he panted. “Mm! Ahh, I missed you so, fuck, so much. I really did.” 

Seth let go of Al’s hand to trail it up his stomach teasingly. “Aww, Al. Well, I had to come take care of you, didn’t I?” Al’s back arched to meet his touch. I’d do the same; we were both so starved for his affection. Seth smoothed his hand back down Alphonse’s torso, all the way to where our bodies met, and ran both hands all the way up my body to my shoulders, forcing me to lean back against his warm, broad chest. “Take care of both of you,” he purred. And without warning, he brushed his fingers over my nipples, sending electricity running through my body, especially my clit. I moaned his name loudly and threw my head back to rest on his shoulder. He continued to circle my nipples lightly, and my hips began to move faster even though my legs were starting to burn. Alphonse flexed his hands on my thighs and began babbling brokenly and bucking up into me at the increased sensation. Seth grabbed my hips to help me bounce and at the same time left a wet trail of tender kisses across the back of my neck and shoulders- not skimping on the teeth, either. 

“Fuck, please!” Alphonse cried, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. 

“What do you need, baby?” I panted. I was getting close. 

“Aah, m’gonna cum, please Boss, can I cum? Pleeease…”

I was about to reply when Seth spoke. “Not ‘til our sugar does.” And he began to rub my clit quickly with wet fingers. My back arched hard in shock and ecstasy so that I could hardly move at all, but they both helped me move on Al’s cock, moving faster, rubbing harder, pushing me through pulsing, all-consuming pleasure… until I fell from the threshold, rocking against Al’s cock frantically while he called my name, and falling against Seth’s chest once more into strong, safe arms. Al moaned sharply once more, and a warmth filled me and sent another wave through me. Once I opened my eyes again, Seth laid me down next to (on top of) Al and knelt down beside the couch, smiling down at us.

“Seth, honey... I missed you so much too. I’m so glad you could be here, tonight wouldn’t have been the same without you,” I said as I tucked Al’s head under my chin. 

“Me too, babe. Although it seemed to me y’all were gettin’ on just fine on your own…” he glanced at the strap on discarded next to the coffee table. 

Al laughed wearily. “Sure, but I ain’t this fucked out unless the both of you were involved in messin’ me up.”

“How’re you feeling, by the way? That looked like it took a lot out of you.” I said, squeezing him tight.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It was a lot, but like… so good. Y’know. I’m really good.”

“Mhm, don’t I know it.” Seth remarked. “Once sugar here works that magic, you’re a goner.” He leaned over Alphonse to kiss me, his tongue sliding over mine. 

Alphonse let out a long sigh. “Guess I’m the one who needs the bath now.” 

Seth huffed a chuckle into my mouth and broke away to look at him questioningly. 

“I was gonna run a bath for us so we could spoil each other and eat cupcakes in it.”

“Not like that last part was gonna happen,”I snickered.

“Hey!”

Seth gasped. “You tried to make cupcakes? I was wondering who got stabbed over that stovetop when I came in.”

“Boo said it wasn’t that bad!”

I giggled, knowing their bickering was loving. “If you two are done, I think we should get on with the rest of our night. All of us are hungry and probably sore, and I know I want to spend more time cuddling in our actual bed now Seth’s here.” 

Al grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked up at Seth. “I’ve been waitin’ to get my hands on you for a long time now, Brown Eyes. We gotta take advantage of a night like tonight.”

“I agree,” Seth murmured. “We’re not gonna do a thing but enjoy each other’s company.” Then he kissed him, long and deep. After they parted, he stood up, grunting. “I’m gonna go draw that bath y’all were talking about so you can rest. I’ll be back for you in a minute, so don’t go anywhere.”

“Say draw one more time,” I pleaded, smirking.

“Draw-er,” he obliged. “And don’t go teasing me about it, neither.”

“Us? Never.” Al smiled deviously. Seth stared sternly at us, then winked and turned to the bathroom. Alphonse nuzzled deeper into my arms and sighed contently. I planted a kiss into his hair and thought about how lucky I must be to have two amazing boyfriends to cherish and  surprise me everyday.

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

A/N: I loved writing this sm and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I hope to do more stuff like this, and soon. this is actually my first fanfic (first inspired by Valentine's Day with your Submissive Boyfriend audio rp by SweetKinkAudio on p*rnhub) and I'd love any criticism or advice if you're willing to give me any💖💖💖 happy valentine's day!!

taglist: @dizzy-n-busy

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #fanfic #yuurivoice bittersweet #alphonse yuurivoice #seth yuurivoice #ao3

[dutifullynuttywitch]

A Whitetower Festival

Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Mal Volari x Autumn Nightbloom, Wren Volari x Vivi Volari

Rating: Teen (fluff)

Word count: 1900

@choicesfebruary2024 for Eros, pragma

Summary: Mal and Autumn enjoy their first Whitetower festival of friendship and love surrounded by friends and family.

Quote by the wonderful @aallotarenunelma thank you my friend I absolutely adore it! 🥰

Mal awakens to the sounds of boisterous laughter rising up from the children’s bedrooms a floor below. A quick glance at the beautiful woman sleeping next to him confirms his suspicion, Autumn could sleep through a bloody earthquake undisturbed! Chuckling, he places a soft kiss onto her forehead before gently disentangling himself.

Today would be a busy day.

It was Whitetower’s annual festival of friendship and love, a joyous celebration filled with music, storytelling, dancing and tasty foods from across the realm.

Mal had always enjoyed the festivities.

As a child, he’d dart between the rows upon rows of market stalls filling the main streets, stealing sweets to bring back to his sister Wren and the other orphans. Wren loved the candied lollipops while he favored the caramel-filled chocolate figurines of the Lovers Ittar and Bakshi, only sold on such a special day. He’d wander around for hours under the flickering lights of lanterns, captivated by the riveting tales of adventures and star-crossed lovers sung by bards across the public plazas. The annual festival was one of the few times he’d truly felt like a kid.

As an adult his enjoyment had shifted to the rowdy inns and drunken debauchery – drinking and swindling lordlings of their coins at card games, dancing the night away in the company of pretty ladies and the occasional Contessa.

This year he had very different reasons to look forward to the celebrations. It was the first he would spend with Autumn. And the first they’d share with the children they were caring for at the orphanage. Mal and Autumn had enlisted the help of Nia, Wren and Vivi to help them watch over the dozen rowdy children so they could all enjoy the festival’s offerings.

He quickly dresses and bounds down the stairs from their attic bedroom. He’s met by a whirlwind of tiny bodies and limbs greeting him and tugging at his clothes for attention, all talking at once about dreams they had last night, a game of knights and dragons they wanted him to join in on, if they could have pancakes - no, eggs - for breakfast…

“Well good morning to you too!” Mal chuckles as he guides them towards the kitchen and sets upon preparing breakfast, fielding excited questions about the festival.

“Good morning children!”

“Morning miss Autumn!”

Autumn makes her way towards Mal, stopping to hug and affectionately greet the children.

“You didn’t wake me, again. I see you’re not making your Heroes of Morella pancakes this morning?” She wraps her arms around him, peering over at the stove.

“Morning Kit, figured you could use the extra sleep.” He kisses her lightly, distracted by the eggs and sausages sizzling in various large skillets “And those pancakes are the one thing you can do better than me in the kitchen, I figured I’d let you have that little victory.”

“I see your ego’s still bruised from that particular defeat. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to remind you of it every single morning, your magnificence.” Autumn smirks as she reaches for the coffee.

“Now see, for my pride to be wounded it would’ve had to have been a fair fight –”

He turns around and takes her in, almost dropping the skillet.

“Kit, you’re…”

Mal swallows, momentarily at a loss for words as Autumn twirls gracefully, showing off a new red satin dress she bought specifically for the festival, delicate lace worked up the sleeves and bodice.

“Speechless my love?” She teases, trailing a finger along his jaw. “Am I beautiful, stunning, the most striking woman you’ve laid eyes on? To think you once won me over with your silver tongue!”

He quickly recovers, pulling her close.

“Kit, you’re all of those things and more. You’re absolutely ravishing in that little number. In fact, I think I’m going to march you right back up to the bedroom, festival be damned.” He whispers before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, hands tracing the lacy detailing along the bodice.

“In front of the children, brother, really?”

Wren chides from the doorway, moving aside to let her wife Vivi and Nia in. The children run over to greet the familiar faces.

“Priestess Nia, look at my light orb! I’ve been practicing just like you showed me!” Young Daniel produces a bright white orb of magic, proudly floating it high above him.

“Good job! You’ve been working on your breathing exercises, Daniel, I’m very proud of you.” Nia beams down at the smiling child, as Lini and Matt approach her, creating their own small orbs to show her their progress.

“Miss Vivi, did you bring us any of your honey almond sweet rolls?” The twins Navina and Nico ask excitedly.

“Miss Wren, will you teach us how to draw again?” Little Mia looks up at Wren, smiling shyly.

Mal waves at them from the kitchen, busily plating the breakfast while Autumn joins the onslaught, wrapping each woman in a warm hug before ushering everyone over to the dinning table.

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion!” Wren smiles, taking in Autumn’s bright red dress.

After an animated breakfast, the gang heads out towards the festival.

The adults walk up a busy street lined with vibrant market stalls, keeping a close eye as the children excitedly run up and down the stalls, playing tag and marvelling at the colourful foods and wares. Mal and Nia stop at a few stalls teeming with candies to purchase treats for the children.

“I wanted to surprise your brother. You know he’s been talking about this festival for weeks?”

“Judging by what we interrupted this morning it seems to have worked!"

Autumn smirks "He was quite... appreciative."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sac and my brother-in-law would still find you the prettiest woman in the realm."

The three women giggle at the thought.

"You know, Mal always enjoyed Whitetower’s celebrations. Those were some of the few days where we could just relax and have a bit of fun."

Autumn's heart twists as she thinks of Mal and Wren's difficult childhood. Vivi gives her wife's hand a soft squeeze.

Wren kisses her before continuing, "Did he tell you he’d sneak me out of the orphanage and steal the most delicious sweets? We’d sit down by that fountain over there stuffing our faces. I spent hours marvelling at the pretty women dancing, twirling around in their colourful dresses.” She grins at the memories.

“Those pretty women impressed you so much you up and married one!” Vivi jokes, planting a soft kiss on her wife’s lips.

“True, I went and found the prettiest of all and tricked her into falling in love with me."

"No trickery required when one is as charming, talented, gorgeous as you, my love."

Autumn smiles as the two women share a tender moment.

“Wren, I’m so glad you and Mal had each other growing up. And that you and Vivi found each other later in life. You’ve endured your share of hardships, but you created such a loving family.”

“And we’re glad you’ve been patient enough to endure our Mal! I had given up hope he’d ever find someone to settle down with. You are family too, you know? Even though my goofball of a brother hasn’t grown a pair yet to officialise it.”

Wren grins widely at Autumn’s rapidly flushing cheeks.

“Wren, we live together, are literally running an orphanage together. Can’t get much more official than that…”

“Sure.” Wren and Vivi share an amused look.

Just then, Mal approaches, a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile touching his lips.

“Kit, close your eyes and open your mouth.”

She looks at him suspiciously but oblidges.

She gasps at the burst of flavours hitting her tastebuds, the richness of chocolate mixing with salty caramel.

“Hmm this is heaven.”

She sighs as he hands her another small chocolate statuette sculpted to resemble the lovers Ittar and Bakshi.

“These are my absolute favorite! I’d wait all year to steal them as a kid.”

“Please tell me you actually purchased these ones?”

“Naturally, Kit, wouldn’t want to be a bad example to the children!” Mal winks.

“You mean a worse example than you already are, recounting your heists as bedtime stories!”

“They love my stories!”

“And they’ll want to follow your example.”

“But see, that’s where you and Nia explain to them how virtuous heroes always win and voila – no harm done!”

Mal flashes her a devilish grin and takes her hand before she can argue any further, pulling her towards an open area where Nia and some of the children are dancing to the lively music of a bard.

He expertly twirls her around the plaza, then dips her, delighting in Autumn’s melodious laugh. They lock eyes, losing themselves in the moment, gliding along to the joyous rhythm of the melody.

"You know, Mal, this could quite possibly be the first dance we share where we're not in mortal danger."

"Kit you may be right. I hope this isn't too boring for your tastes?"

She smiles at him, "Nah, this is perfect."

He steals a kiss as the last melodious notes echoe across the square.

They change partners, Autumn starting a vivacious jig with Nia as he lifts little Lini, spinning the giggling girl around. Wren and Vivi join in, sharing a tender dance before joining hands with several of the children in one large circle dance. The group spends the following hours dancing, laughing, playing games with the children and trying all manner of sweets.

As the sun sets, they gather around the main square’s large fountain, smiling contentedly, bodies and minds satiated. Some of the younger children start yawning, the day’s excitement finally catching up to them.

Once all the children are tucked in, Mal ushers Autumn up to their bedroom and onto the rooftop. He lays down thick blankets and takes her into his arms as they settle down with contented sighs.

They part ways with Wren, Vivi and Nia, Mal and Autumn carrying little Lini and Mia home as the other children run ahead, chattering happily if a little more subdued.

The soft notes of a romantic ballad waft up from the festivities down below. Above them, the night sky is alit with thousands of twinkling stars.

“I’ve been wanting to steal some time alone with you all day, kit… and get you out of that beautiful dress the moment I saw you in it.” He smiles, tracing his fingers lightly along the lace down her arm and bodice, making her shiver.

“I take it you enjoyed your present?” Autumn smiles sweetly at him, reaching up to kiss him softly.

“If by enjoyed you mean tortured every second of the day that I couldn’t whisk you away, rip it off and kiss you breathless, then yes, Autumn, I very much enjoyed my present.” Mal chuckles, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

“It does feels like we don’t have much time to ourselves these days. Though the children had such a wonderful time today. As did I. And it was lovely to spend time with your sister, Vivi and Nia.”

Mal gazes down at her, suddenly a little hesitant.

“Autumn, I realize that I started this orphanage while you were… trapped away… I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated in any way if this is not the life you had imagined for yourself.”

“Mal, look at me,” she cups his face gently, “I am exactly where I want to be, with whom I want to spend my life with. Taking care of these children with you fills me with such joy and a sense of purpose. I love you, and I love this life we are building together. Don’t you ever doubt it.”

“Gods I was hoping you’d say that.” Mal murmurs relieved, capturing her lips in another fiery kiss.

They continue to share loving kisses long into the night, lulled by the gentle music floating up from Whitetower’s celebrations.

#playchoices #blades of light and shadow #mal volari #blades of light and shadow 2 #mal volari x mc #mal volari x autumn nightbloom

[followthebluebell]

Bluebell!! As you know, I’m working with that tuxedo baby boy! I actually have a couple questions I’m hoping maybe you could answer…

Once he gets neutered, I’m concerned about his recovery and what I should do. Initially I was thinking about setting up a kennel with a bed + litter pan at least for a couple of nights while he heals, but when I asked the vet about his recovery, they said it really depends on the cat and that I may have to just let him back out if he really hates being inside. They mentioned I should try to get him a little used to being inside before the procedure, but he’s definitely full of worms and fleas, and we already have two cats and a dog here. I want to socialize them all eventually but I don’t want to risk the other animals getting worms right now. I’m hoping he can get dewormed while he’s at the vet. Would you happen to have any ideas that could work?

Second question- while he loves getting pets and even loves to be on my lap, sometimes he still swipes at my hands even if I’m not doing anything. He does NOT try to bite me. Could he just be over stimulated? Learning how to act around a human? What can I do to deter that without upsetting him? Or is it just something that might go away over time? (Also I’d like to follow this up with I thoroughly wash my hands after every interaction and I change my clothes if he sits on my lap).

anyways… if you’re able to help, i’d really appreciate it 🥺 i just want to get everything right.

I'm following the adventures of the very dignified boy and hoping he settles in quickly, ngl!

Cats usually recover from neuters pretty quick. It's a very, VERY small procedure (sorry to all toms reading this; your balls are not that impressive). There's usually not even a check back to get stitches taken out or anything. I do recommend crate rest, just to be sure he doesn't pull anything. It also helps to monitor how much he's eating, drinking, and eliminating.

so, the type of dewormers used are really going to depend on what kind of worms he's got. Since you've mentioned fleas, he's got tapeworms at the very least, which isn't as bad as it sounds. They're the easiest to get rid of, with just a single dose. Drontal is the typical form used, since it covers a larger spectrum of parasites than just pure praziquantel.

It's worth knowing that dewormers aren't JUST available in oral forms either. There are some that are transdermal, which is super handy when you're working with a cat who's not 100% used to human contact and might not be easy to pill.

The problem is, it's also SUPER easy to get contract them again, because their eggs are carried in the fleas. Cat grooms off an infected flea, eats it, and gets tapeworms all over again. So getting rid of tapeworms includes getting rid of the fleas, and the right flea medication depends on where you live.

I happen to live smack-dab in the middle of flea country. Fleas in my area have presented with a REALLY high resistance against most flea medications. The ones that still work in my area are selamectin (revolution, and revolution+; also a handy one since it takes out a lot of internal parasitic worms), spinosad (less effective in recent years, but includes comfortis), and spinetorem (cheristin; this is what I use on my personal cats, and it's also the active ingredient in Advantage XD). I've heard good things about bravecto and credelio, but haven't used those personally. Absolutely ask your vet what's working in your area right now.

I HIGHLY recommend getting a flea control that kills adults, larvae, and eggs. Right now, the best thing is to keep him on quarantine for a week or two, just in case he's got something nastier than parasites.

As far as his behavior, I'm guessing he's still learning how humans work. It's possible he's giving some sort of signal that's just too subtle for humans to catch. Just keep doing what you're doing and he'll figure out how to communicate with you. If he continues to swipe, you can work on finding a sort of comfortable compromise where, instead of sitting on you, he sits next to you in a little bed.

Good luck with the little guy!

[spacemonkeysalsa]

BG4 brainstorm

I know they've already got a bunch of it written and outlined or whatever, but I can't turn my brain off, so I'm just going to talk exclusively about the way in which I'd like to see BG3 characters and events incorporated into BG4, if they are even going to do that-

First off there's-

The Stuff That Doesn't Need To Come Up In The Narrative Right Away But Let's Establish The Underlying Assumptions Shall We?:

The white dragon born dark urge managing to overcome Bhaal and defeat the elderbrain, in the end, but with a somewhat uneven series of good and bad choices at their back.

Minthara is probably dead, though I’d love it if she was still around and you absolutely can get away with that, narratively, thanks to the patches.

On the other side, Halsin, Dame Aylin and Isobel are probably alive.

Astarion and Gale are both alive and may or may not be the god/godlike versions of themselves.

Karlach and Wyll are alive and still in Avernus together (unless the DLC drops and we have Blade of Avernus/Fixing Karlach's engine adventures between the games) not explicitly as a couple though, I'd leave that ambiguous.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are in love (this is both the most specific my post-headcanon gets, and entirely non-negotiable) but spend a lot of time apart because of respective responsibilities. Lae’zel can be a diplomat or a freedom fighter, but Shadowheart is a Selunite living with her parents on a farm and overcoming her fear of wolves by also raising some wolves alongside her adopted Githyanki son.

What Larian did with legacy characters from the earlier game was smart, in that they didn’t overuse them or reveal too many details about what they’d been doing in the interim, so like, we’ll keep it basic, leave a lot up to the imagination, but the writing around their appearances and roles in the story would match the above info.

Starting with origin characters, I think there’s potential to include familiar faces.

First Familiar Face - Githyanki egg all grown up. He shouldn’t be called Ptaris, because this is kind of assuming that the path where he ends up with that name doesn’t happen. For now, I’m just going to call him Egg, as I can sort of imagine Lae’zel using it as a slightly mocking but ultimately affectionate nickname, and miss “I picked my own name” maybe sort of leaving it up to him.

Egg - as I would write him, would have spent some time on the astral plane, like one of his moms and so his age is kind of a ??? because time is different there, and Egg would have also spent some time living with one of his moms on the farm. There’s sort of an obvious characterization available here. Where does he belong? Who are his people, really? You could write him confused and conflicted, or you could take the route I like and say that he was raised by the two most perfect people to help him understand that. He has his half-elf mother’s compounding knowledge of temperance between seemingly conflicted forces, and disparate elements, and his githyanki mother made sure he grew up confident and sure of himself and proud of his incredibly unique heritage. Also, these two states of mind aren’t totally mutually exclusive, cognitive dissonance is a major part of life, and an appropriate coming of age theme. I already love Egg. In keeping with the idea of temperance, I’d put him firmly in the true neutral category.

Second Familiar Face - Mol. Like. Just give me more Mol. What a great character, I’m so stoked imagining her grown up. I would write her as our team warlock, even if Raphael has been eaten by Mephistopheles. She can still do eldritch blast and the works ever since her pact with him. She’s pretty concerned that the implications of this are that Meph is her true fount now, and she wonders if he knows, or if there’s some small bit of his power he’s not aware is being lent out to her, and what he’ll do if he ever learns of her existence. She keeps these worries close to the chest though, instead projecting nonchalance that comes off as careless and callous during the earlier parts of the story, before she opens up. Probably neutral evil.

Third Familiar Face - Arabella. I’d make her so, so weird. Her magic is druidic, so she’s probably our druid, but you could easily get away with sorcerer or a secret third thing and I wouldn’t be mad. As a fully grown woman she speaks with the annoying esoteric air of a dryad and personifies inanimate objects, and is constantly carrying on conversations with animals when left to her own devices. She and Mol do not get along anymore, though they still care a lot about each other and there should be some cuteness about their history and childhood as buddies and little lost refugees together. Chaotic good.

I think you could get away with including all three in the main party, even early game, but I wouldn’t do more than that. New original characters are potentially more important and I would have the plot and the bones of the game be more closely tied to these totally new faces rather than relying on sequel energy. Even if all three games exist in the same universe and share themes, elements, and some characters, they don’t really feel like direct sequels and I think that’s a good thing. The only reason I think you can get away with using these three kids from the third game like this is because as adults, they’ll be completely different people, to the point that the story would have to reintroduce them anyway. The fact that they have any connections to the events of the past games doesn’t even really need to be explored beyond the kind of high-level backstory stuff that affected everyone in the world:

Arabella: “Remember when Baldur’s Gate almost got destroyed by an Elder Brain?”

Mol: “Yeah, that was wild.”

Egg: “No, I was there, but I hadn’t hatched yet.”

Mol: “HOW OLD ARE YOU?”

Egg: “Ugh, it’s complicated.”

I would probably continue with the often fun but at times vaguely serious “kill all the gods and masters” themes from previous games, and use this as a way to get everyone into hell for a portion of the game to go toe-to-toe with some archdevils, and also as an excuse to get Karlach and Wyll in the game (it's hard for me to get too much into this idea tbh, because I'm still hopeful that they'll be lvl13-20 dlc that involves Avernus, in which case, all of this is resolved and idk where to go from here with those two as I'm sure it would be affected a lot by how all that theoretical dlc content turns out, and I'm like so invested in going to Avernus with Wyll and Karlach).

And, Legacy character time!

Lae’zel I think could be our Jaheira analog, meaning she’s a previous origin character who I think could join the main team and be a party member for a chunk of the game without breaking anything. I would keep it until later though, but make it about as simple as recruiting Jaheira, in that it feels almost compulsory if you just follow a common path and progress the game.

Shadowheart would work nicely as our Minsc analog, in that she could be introduced as a very late game party character, essentially starting off as a lvl 12 cleric of light, as Selune intended, and I would make her recruitment more complicated and involve a side-quest. A rough idea for that side-quest would be trying to successfully get a message to Selunite allies, asking for aid. If you manage to meet the requirements and your messenger isn’t killed—and I think it would be fun if there was some randomness to it, like maybe a background constitution check that just mysteriously triggers when you cross into a certain area, and if it passes, it means your messenger (wherever they are) safely made it, and if it fails, they didn’t. So, I would let Shadowheart have a big damn hero moment and ride into a battle (on the back of one her wolves, why not) and join in the fight as an unexpected ally. From a play testing point of view, it would be especially fun to set up a certain fight so that waves of enemies arrive, and there’s a point where most people get overwhelmed and that’s when she shows up. But, for extra complication, if you don’t have Lae’zel or Egg with you at the time, she shows up for the one battle, saves your ass, then fights you if you’re responsible for either of their deaths, and if they are in your party, then you have to pass the roll, and play the whole thing for family drama.

Gale and Astarion, if you wanted to go with their bad endings, then Gale becoming and god and Astarion ascending would be the canon and there’s a lot to work with. Or, if you wanted to go with the good ending, then Gale is professor Dekarios and Astarion would either be an adventurer or leading the spawn in the Underdark. Professor Dekarios could easily just be a helpful mentor-type. His participation in shenanigans can be limited to a side quest or two, an Elminster/Volo like series of cameos etc. He’s a good adventurer when he has to be, but it’s not really where his heart is and we always knew that. He’s a wizard in his tower/in the classroom, but sure, he’ll lend a helping hand as he still remembers how valuable a service that can be. As a silly goose, I’m tempted to write a Volo/Elminster/Gale scene that involves all three of them very wine drunk and arguing about something absolutely no one else could hope to understand.

God Gale I can’t resist making him one of the baddies. It’s sad, but it feels appropriate. If he’s now the god of ambition then he failed to learn a pretty fundamental lesson during the course of BG3, and Tav/Durge who didn’t help him out with that failed and should feel bad. Offense absolutely intended. The logical conclusion is that Gale has become exactly the sort of god that once threatened and made his life miserable, especially since his antagonism towards Mystra with this ending seems to just be couched in pure unexamined hurt, and pettiness rather than a real understand that even as one of the “good gods” she wronged him, and she was wrong from the beginning and that there might just be something inherently bad about having and wielding this kind of power, at all.

He doesn’t get that, but it’s a bit due to wilful ignorance, I think, so I’d continue that and I wouldn’t make Gale knowingly the big bad. it just doesn't fit his character. You have a mortal avatar/chosen, some very ambitious enemy who Gale is helping, without a clear understanding of exactly what kind of schemes he’s backing. He’s too removed to really understand that he fucked up, and by the time he figures it out, it’s too late. Necessarily, his presence like this would be minimal, maybe we don’t even know for sure that he’s involved in any capacity until quite late, and even then, I’d make getting an actual appearance from the guy, pretty hard fought.

Astarion would be our other antagonist, and I think you can get away with going in any of the three different routes with him (Ascended, Spawn Adventurer, Spawn Dad) and make him an antagonist regardless. It would more be a matter of setting, do you want a quest in a big gothic castle or at a fancy party? A totally new location where he can turn up unexpectedly? The underdark? Setting might be the deciding factor, but his behavior and his role in the story could more or less follow the same pattern because the degrees of difference in his personality as ascendant/spawn are workable. That’s the thing about being a neutral evil aligned character—it’s maybe the broadest category as far as D&D character rep goes. He can get away with doing basically anything and still remain in that alignment because it takes an extreme act of unhinged evil to shift his alignment towards chaos, and anything good he does can still be dismissed as a cheap “pet the dog” moment by everyone who is unwilling to admit that he might have some capacity for redemption in him.

I would not make him a big bad antagonist though, because why would he ever bother, what’s actually in it for him? And I would want to create a route where he can join your side, but I wouldn’t have him join the camp/party in a permanent sense, at most you could do a Dame Aylin thing and keep him around and available for additional dialogue, a later quest or two.

In any case, even at his most antagonistic, Astarion isn’t truly ambitious. In BG3 he’ll ascend if he gets the chance, he'll try and run the city as long as the network is all in place already and it's not too much work, but he was never going to go out of his way to set all that up and he’ll settle. You could easily tie his story together with God Gale, if you wanted. “Ambition gets you stabbed to death by your spawn—of course none of this shit was my idea! I didn’t have a choice!” He was always quite good at delivering overdramatic ( but more often than people want to admit, totally valid) justifications for his behaviour, so I’d use that again, to utilize him to his maximum anti-hero/anti-villain potential.

He’d make a great red herring villain in the story, like let everything—including his old allies—think that he’s some mastermind (and let bg3 fans freak out a little that they've characterized him wrong), or that he’s more involved and more willing than he actually is. Then story beats slowly reveal that he’s a smaller level antagonist, pressed into the service of the bigger bad by circumstances/fear/whatever. It brings back bad memories. He’s pissed about it actually, doesn’t want to be doing any of this, has maybe been planning his own escape/betrayal for a while now. The player can ignore all that and just kill him here, or they can help him and see where things go if you give him a chance to ally with you against your common enemy. Fans can then continue their very stupid argument about whether he’s a hero or a villain, and we know that arguing is what truly makes them happy, so everyone wins.

A possible later quest could tie with Mol, if Astarion is the vampire ascendant, because in that scenario they are both in a weird ambiguous state where Mephistopheles is maybe their master or maybe not? D&D lore arguments continue?

Doing all of this would obviously be a lot, but I'd be thrilled if some version of any one of these ideas appeared in bg4. Assuming, I ever stop playing bg3 long enough to get trully invested in bg4 eventual existence.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 4 #bg4 #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 mol #bg3 arabella #githyanki egg #bg3 gale

[digitaldavis]

Gonna preface this by saying it's for the @digimon02countdown but it doesn't necessarily need to be reblogged or anything 'cause it's not super in-depth or insightful or anything like that and, technically, this isn’t my favorite scene or line or even theme in the show (I'm not sure what that would even be); it’s a throw-away line in the dub that happens at the very end of the episode Storm of Friendship where Davis gets his second Digi-Egg:

It’s a short dialogue exchange that goes like this:

Davis: ”Hey, did you see that? I got a noogie! That means I'm one of the guys now!"

DemiVeemon: ”I have a question: if you're one of the guys now, does that mean you used to be one of the girls and how come you never told me about it? I wish you humans would just make up your minds!”

Davis: “Oh yeah, then how’s this for friendship?” *shakes DemiVeemon*

Basically, if you couldn't guess, this was the beginning of my trans!Davis headcanons and it’s really very personal to me - my fixation on it having stemmed from my own desire to have been born male as I was a tiny AFAB child of maybe ten at the time the episode aired, at a point in my life when it had recently been made very clear to me by the authority figures in my life that behaving like a boy was completely unacceptable to them.

I know the line is just meant to be silly but, honestly, I latched onto it like a life-line and for years and years while I was living as a girl, every time I thought about Digimon Adventure 02 I’d think back to that line and the possibility that my favorite character was AFAB at some point and it was always very comforting to me.

It’s just a projection of my own feelings, really, because it’s obviously not canon-canon, but I received such a strong negative reaction in my own life to the idea of being a boy that I definitely took DemiVeemon’s very innocent question far too seriously as a child and have been on the trans!boy Davis train ever since.

In the episode Davis’ shakes DemiVeemon a bunch in response to what DemiVeemon says while everyone laughs it off and you’re supposed to be like “oh haha silly little Digimon” but all I thought watching it for the first time as a little kid was a jumbled mess of:

Davis didn’t deny that he was born a girl and what if he was like me and had had secret thoughts about being a boy for years before becoming one?

DemiVeemon just seemed more hurt that Davis didn’t trust him enough to tell him about it than upset at the idea itself because they were friends and friends accepted each other and,

None of the other kids in the room - even the older kids - were angry or upset by the idea. It was like they thought that becoming a boy was a thing that could happen and was normal and-

-it just kind of spiraled out of control from that moment on, really.

I wish I had some bigger deeper analysis of the show to back up my love of trans!Davis headcanons but I don't. That's all there is to it, really, but it’s part of what made Digimon Adventure 02 really important to me initially when I was growing up and I think about it constantly as it lives rent free in my head.

It's also the basis for this blog and why I chose Davis as my first name when I came out as trans (also it just sounds nice with my last name), so, yeah, thanks wacky Digimon 02 dub on behalf of tiny impressionable me and my fellow trans!Davis enjoyers everywhere~

Oh, and speaking of enjoying things:

I hope everyone has a really great time watching the new Digimon 02 film~

#Davis Motomiya #Digimon Adventure 02 #the origin of trans!boy Davis or something #I should really come up with a clever trans!davis tag #my headcanons #Motomiya Daisuke

[general--winter]

Ash Ketchum, Misty, Brock, Serena with a reader who is afraid of pokemons

author's note: With this ask I took a vaguely platonic/friendship angle. I hope you don't mind. It was pretty fun thinking of what their reactions would be to someone who is afraid of Pokemon, because from all of the episodes of the anime I have seen (not all of them!!!) I don't really recall a situation like this. And also how some of their personal Pokemon would fare in this situation. So it was a fun theory craft. Please, enjoy!

rating: general

pairing: ash ketchum & gn!reader, misty & gn!reader, brock & gn!reader, serena & gn!reader

word count: 725

warnings: none

summary: pokemon anime main characters reactions to the reader being afraid of pokemon

Ash Ketchum

What!!! How could anyone be afraid of Pokemon? They’re totally awesome in Ash’s mind. When you simply explained your reasoning, though, he felt incredibly bad. Not only for making assumptions, but also because, from his perspective, you’re really missing out if you’re not letting Pokemon into your life. I don’t think he would honestly even be able to have someone in his life who’s genuinely so afraid of Pokemon that they can’t stand to be around them, either. Not for lack of trying, or because he wouldn’t care, but because his life is so centered on Pokemon battles and adventures that you would have to at least tolerate them at points.

I think he would really put his best effort into trying to get you more comfortable around Pokemon, though, if you were open to it. He would introduce you to a lot of his less scary partners from Oak’s lab, as well as Pikachu. I think cuddles with Pikachu would be awesome, although if you’re hesitant about touching an electrified mouse, there’s always Pokemon like Buizel or Bayleef that would be very fun or kind to meet at first. 

Misty

Misty, on the other hand, totally and completely gets where you’re coming from. She despises Bug-type Pokemon with a passion, and while she does love Water-types, she’s able to empathize with your fear a lot easier than someone like Ash. I’d imagine she would get very mad at whichever Pokemon managed to spook you if it was one of her own or her companions’. If it was wild, I think she would have no hesitation chasing it off for you if it wasn’t a Bug type. Sorry, you’ll be running from the Weedles and Caterpies together. 

Again, her life is pretty dependent on Pokemon, so if you were very close I would assume you would want to try and conquer your fear. Togepi would be the perfect partner for that! Sweet and a little mischievous, I can imagine Togepi winning over just about anyone eventually. Togepi learns Charm, right? Yeah, that little egg is gonna worm its way into your heart. Psyduck and its shenanigans may too, but only after you’re a little more comfortable. Just because it might go boom…

Brock

He is a mother hen, plain and simple. He would be so concerned over you, especially if your fear showed itself before you could tell him. Brock is on the rescue immediately, making sure you and the Pokemon aren’t hurt or anything. Again, he’s a gym leader, so I think you may be in for overcoming your fear with him! As a Pokemon breeder, Brock is very skilled at nurturing young Pokemon and he’s probably the best person to introduce someone who has this fear. He understands their behavior very well and would be a perfect mediator in a meeting.

I think the first Pokemon he would introduce you to is Bonsly. He’s just a happy little rock dude, and he’s also pretty shy around new people. You and Bonsly could definitely relate to one another, and I think that it would be quite therapeutic for you. It would definitely be a while before Brock introduces you to Pokemon like Steelix, though. Definitely off-limits until you get the hang of everything with his baby Pokemon.

Serena

As a Coordinator, Serena is also incredibly attuned to the actions and feelings of Pokemon, more so than Ash and Misty I would think. She has to ensure that they’re on their best behavior for Contests, so a lot of her Pokemon would be pretty well-mannered and easy to get along with. Serena also has a bit of a relatable experience with you — she wasn’t the biggest fan of Rhyhorn before Ash helped her with them! Overall, I think she would be maybe a little impatient and confused by your fear, but still extremely supportive of you overcoming it.

As for Pokemon that Serena would introduce you to, I think she would choose Sylveon. The Eeveelutions, are, in my opinion, some of the friendliest and most outgoing Pokemon there are naturally. Kind of like a really cute and friendly dog. You don’t need to worry about Serena’s being untrained and unpredictable though, she is a top Coordinator. Sylveon would be up for so many pets and would definitely help you work through your fear.

#pokemon #pokemon anime #ash ketchum #misty pokemon #brock pokemon #serena pokemon #gender neutral reader #headcanon #request #i have not watched the pokemon anime in years maybe i should change that now that ash finished his journey :( #i loved the show as a kid but i couldnt get into anything past gen 4

[fa1rytunes]

all of the paths that lead to you

childe/bennett

general/SFW

4.5k words

canonverse

tags: fluff, meet-cute, ‘flowers’ prompt for @chennettfest 2023

ao3: link

Bennett finds Childe for the first time, and Childe makes sure it is not the last. In the space between their words, something blossoms.

Most people do not think of Bennett as a delicate young man.

He comes back from quests battered and bruised, ashes streaking his arms and face. His laugh is always boisterous; he does not know how to speak in hushed tones. His hands are always calloused, his cheek rough with a 3-day stubble, his hair tousled and messy as a bird’s nest.

It is true that Bennett is definitely not coquettish. Bennett does not have much time to be coquettish.

His morning routine solely consists of an adventurer’s toast and an egg sunny-side up, and then he merely brushes his teeth before giving a scrub and a quick sharpening to the edge of his sword, and then he’s out again. He comes back late at night, showers hastily, and collapses on his bed until sunrise. He doesn’t need to trim his nails, he tends to bite them whenever his gloves are off. When his hair is due for a cut, he lets Fischl have a go at it.

Bennett is a lot of sharp edges, if you forget his beaming smile.

But Bennett is actually quite delicate.

He very gingerly tries to pick up a cat stranded on a rooftop, and maybe he doesn’t speak to it in a hushed tone, but he comes to it soft-footed and gentle. It’s not his fault that a screaming match suddenly bubbles up and spills out of an open window nearby, and so the terrified feline escapes his attempt to retrieve it with all of its claws out. Razor later applies a strange and stinging paste to the burning scapes, and in a matter of days they are gone.

Bennett at least tries to be delicate. Even if it doesn’t always succeed.

He doesn’t forget anyone’s birthdays. Not Fischl’s, not Razor’s, not Noelle’s, none of his dads’, and certainly not the Traveler’s. He doesn’t always succeed in getting them a gift, but he tries. When his fortune gets in the way of his plans, he tries to remind himself that it’s the thought that counts.

That Bennett is a kind and caring person, no one can deny.

—————————

It happens on a cloudy morning.

“I’d like you to join us on this quest,” Lumine says.

Bennett hasn’t really caught the details of it. He’s just happy that someone is seeking him out for a commission. It’s quite the change of pace from the disappointed, cringing looks his customers from the Adventurers’ Guild usually give him when they realize he was the one to carry out their commission.

“‘Us’?” Bennett asks. “Are the other people aware of my…?”

Lumine answers his unfinished question with a smile. “Of course. That’s specifically why we want you.”

—————————

He’s tall. Handsome, and tall, and well-built, and has a wide grin to make him swoon.

Bennett isn’t one to fall quick. He thinks.

He might be wrong.

The ginger man has a thirst for battle, an insatiable one at that. Nerves of steel, too, judging by how unfazed he is by the roaring of the rockhide lawachurl ready to charge him.

That’s why Lumine got him there. To make this battle as unpredictable as possible, for this man to fight whatever Bennett’s luck brings their way.

Bennett almost felt disappointed that that was the true reason Lumine sought him out, but after meeting the man, he’s not so sure about that anymore.

He assists in the battle here and there, his sword at the ready, his Pyro vision glowing at his belt. He coats his sword’s edge with flames so that Childe can vaporize it with Hydro and inflict more damage on the enemies. The man laughs with glee, slashing forth in quick succession with his swords, until the beast finally collapses and vanishes in a flurry of particles.

“Well done, comrade!” he then says, extending his hand to thank him.

“Th-thanks, you’re not bad at all…!” Bennett manages to reply as he takes Childe’s hand, and then he quickly regrets his choice of words. “Uh, I mean, you’re a terrific fighter, really!”

“Haha, thanks, buddy!” Childe quickly lets go of Bennett’s hand, but the sensation of his firm grip lingers in Bennett’s palm. As Childe stretches his shoulders and neck, he then adds, “Do you guys wanna grab some food and drinks? It’s on me!”

Before Bennett can reply that his dads will probably be waiting for him (that’s a lie), Lumine replies, “Of course Childe, I’m sure Bennett will appreciate that as much if not more than his own cooking,” she says with a wink at Bennett.

Bennett avoids her gaze with a nervous laughter, the memory of his food poisoning adventures with Lumine still fresh and bitter in his mind.

Part of him fears that his calamity will extend to their experience at an establishment. Part of him feels he’s not worth this near-stranger’s attention and money.

Part of him is very giddy at the thought of getting to know him better. Lumine warned him that he’s a Fatui Harbinger, not a commendable company to keep around; but if the Traveler keeps him around, he can’t be that bad, now, can he? Bennett knows next to nothing about the Harbingers, if that they’re supposed to be the top ranks of the Fatui. What’s he doing, just going out for a training session in the Liyue wilderness on a random day?

But this may be Bennett’s only occasion to see him, so he can’t keep himself from seizing it, even though he has no idea what to expect.

The sky is still heavy with clouds, and it finally bulks under the pressure just as they arrive back to the harbour. Rain starts falling all at once, and they have to run to the pub Childe wants to take them to to avoid getting drenched.

That’s just Bennett’s luck for you.

Childe asks a lot of questions to Bennett. About his dads, about his friends, about Mondstadt. He doesn’t appear to know much about the place, save that it’s much less technologically advanced than Snezhnaya. Bennett can’t fault him for that—after all, Childe does come all the way from the furthest land from Mondstadt.

Bennett has to hold himself together every time the man cracks a smile or breaks into a guffaw. Has to hold his heart steady. Hold his breath. Pay attention to what he does with his hands to not make a mess.

Oh, he’s down bad.

He notices the dimple that forms on his cheek, the way he taps his fingers on his glass, the way his long legs cross under the table.

He notices all these things he usually doesn’t notice, and the reason is clear.

At the pub, Bennett’s bad luck only strikes in the form of the place being dry with firewater, which just so happens to be Childe’s favourite drink. The Harbinger settles for Liyuan beer instead, and Bennett orders the same.

Fuzziness grows as the amount of liquid in his glass diminishes, and Bennett has to hold himself together a lot more. To keep his eyes from trailing towards the tiny bit of skin on Childe’s hip. Keep himself from staring at his lips, wondering what they’d taste like against his.

It’s the hardest goddamn thing.

But eventually they’re out of food and out of drinks, and Childe notices the time on the clock suspended above the bar.

Bennett sighs with relief.

As promised, the Harbinger pays the bill, and they’re on their way.

The last thing Bennett sees before the Traveler wraps them to the Teleport Waypoint in the middle of Mondstadt is the silhouette of the Harbinger under the moonlight, waving them goodbye.

Lumine thanks Bennett for his service at his doorstep and gives him a good handful of Mora, which Bennett unsuccessfully tries to refuse.

Back into his room, the warmth of the alcohol starts to dissipate, but their day still feels like a fever dream.

He’s never gonna see that guy again, is he? And even if he was, what chance would poor little Bennett have? Charming as he is, Childe must have all the men and women in Teyvat at his feet. Maybe he even has a lover back home. Although, the chances of that being the case seem slim to none, seeing how extensively he talked about his family back there—it would have been strange not to mention a significant other as well. Maybe he’s not into boys. Maybe Bennett’s just not his type.

After all, Bennett is Bennett, and lucky as he is, he’s better off chasing that thought from his mind and never thinking about that red-haired man again.

He falls asleep quickly, sinking into a dreamless slumber.

—————————

Bennett was wrong.

Wrong for thinking he’d never see Childe again, that is—one day, the man simply stands near the fountain in the plaza as Bennett is rushing to the Adventurer’s Guild to pick up his day’s commissions. As if he appeared out of thin air.

Bennett stops on his tracks and waves at Childe, trying to assuage the quivering sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Childe waves back.

Bennett remembers to breathe.

“Hey buddy, how are things? You’re busy going somewhere?” the Harbinger asks.

“Hi Childe! I was just on my way to pick up some commissions, but I don’t have to, if you need some help.” Bennett lets out a nervous giggle, raking a hand through the mess of his hair. “Last time was…it was pretty fun…!”

He’s half affirming it, half asking for confirmation that Childe thinks the same.

The Harbinger nods and grins. “Yeah, it was! This time though, I’m here on pretty official business; and turns out, I could probably use the help of a local guide.”

“Ah, why so?” With a face like that, and a seemingly infinite amount of Mora at his disposal, Childe seems like the type of person to whom no door is ever closed, Bennett muses.

“Let’s say, the Fatui may or may not have branded themselves as persona non grata at the Favonius Knights’ headquarters,” Childe replies with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Huh, what would you have to do there?” Bennett asks.

“I need to retrieve a book a fellow Harbinger abandoned behind several years ago… I happen to be the closest to Mondstadt so they asked me to get it done. And he doesn’t trust regular Fatui members not to peer into the contents of his notes.”

“So, by ‘local guide’, you mean to say that you need someone who would be able to ask Auntie Lisa for that book…?” Bennett asks.

“If that’s the name of their Librarian, then yes, I suppose,” Childe replies with a shrug.

Bennett raises an eyebrow. And feels a tugging sensation in his chest. Childe is definitely not here to see him.

But…

“Besides, I also accepted because I was hoping to cross paths with you.”

Oh. He didn’t hope to cross paths with Lumine.

Bennett tries his goddamn best not to let that information short-circuit his brain. His mouth hangs open for a moment, and then he replies, “I’d be glad to help…!”

—————————

Childe stays for quite a bit longer than the task justified.

They talk. A lot. About what life’s like back in Morepesok, about Anton, Tonia and Teucer, about all places Childe has seen, and then all the ones Bennett dreams to see.

By the time they part, the first few stars are starting to dot the sky and the last traces of daytime are vanishing off the horizon.

Bennett wishes Childe wouldn’t go.

And then Childe does go, with a promise to be back.

—————————

It’s like this for a while.

Childe pops up into Bennett’s life every few weeks, with another reason to ask for his help.

‘Reason’ may be giving him too much credit. Any outside observer would more readily call that an excuse.

But Bennett is quite glad to be none the wiser. Otherwise, he would probably convince himself Childe has some sort of nefarious intention in his back pocket.

Before long, Bennett finds himself searching for the now familiar crown of stark red hair in the crowd. Something sinks in his stomach when he doesn’t find the guy waiting for him outside of the guild’s barracks in the morning. He knows he shouldn’t; that still doesn’t mean he can help it.

Fischl and Razor have noticed. Noticed how he lingers more, gets more lost in thought; but in those moments of absence, Bennett isn’t morose as he had a tendency to be, but rather, there’s often a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He smiles more often for all sorts of reasons, too.

It’s a comfortable spot to be in. One where Bennett enjoys Childe’s presence, and asks for nothing in return. One where Bennett doesn’t have to worry about the things that could be, or the ones that never will, and only contents himself with what he has.

—————————

Childe misses the Windblume festival.

Bennett can’t help but be disappointed about that. Not that Childe had promised Bennett he’d be there—in fact, he’d warned he probably wouldn’t be back for an exceptionally long while. Something about an impromptu trip to Sumeru for the Fatui, but it was a top secret assignment.

Perhaps ‘disappointed’ is even an understatement.

But Bennett doesn’t have the right to be disappointed. Nothing entitles him to Childe’s presence, and everything points to the fact that he clearly set himself up for that disappointment by building the expectation that Childe would be there.

And Childe isn’t. The festival just drew to a close. There’s no way Childe would show up this late into it.

And so Bennett stares at the bouquet of windwheel asters and cecilias in his hands, standing atop of the city gates.

Why is he so affected by the fact that he won’t be able to give Childe this bouquet? It’s not like Childe is his lover or anything of the sort—although even Bennett at this point is conscious that his feelings for the guy are more than just friendship. This wasn’t a romantic bouquet either, and he didn’t intend on some sort of dramatic love confession to go along with it, either. Bennett is content with their relationship the way it is right now. Right?

He throws the bouquet in the garbage can of his bedroom before he showers and goes to bed—there, for hours, he tosses and turns, eyes following the patterns of silver spilling in his room from the window. Sleep evades him, and only lets him find it a few hours before sunrise.

When he wakes up, way past his usual waking time, his eyes glide over the bouquet that’s still in the trash.

He knows what he wants to do. He carefully picks it back.

If only he had an easy way to contact the Traveler, though, this would be so much simpler. Bennett only knows how to go to the entrance of the Chasm. His international map does cover Sumeru, but he has never touched its teleport waypoints, and thus he will have to thread most of the way past the Chasm on foot. He estimates it’s probably a 3-day journey to Sumeru City; but there’s no guarantee Childe will be there. He might as well be somewhere in the depths of the desert, where Bennett would need an additional 4 or 5 days to go, if he doesn’t get lost.

This is ambitious, for sure. Bennett hasn’t travelled alone in a long time, and certainly not this far away from home. But it’s a journey he wants to make on his own, not with Fischl or Razor.

Dressed up, he fills up his money bag with whatever Mora he finds lying around—it’s not much, but it will probably suffice; worst case scenario, Bennett can pick up a few commissions in Sumeru to fill it up.

He warns his dads he won’t be back for a few days, probably a week, perhaps more. They don’t take very kindly to it, but Bennett is an adult.

It’s fine. All of this is fine. Benny’s Adventure Team has always been kind of a one-man show.

Anxiety pools in the pit of his stomach. He stuffs it as far down as he can when he wraps himself to the Chasm’s furthest teleport waypoint. The air immediately changes; it’s much drier than Mondstadt, but only for a time—as soon as Bennett has been through the tunnel, it is humid, so terribly and thoroughly humid, and warm. And green. So green—Bennett has never seen a place so green before.

Surely, a red-haired Harbinger will stick out like a sore thumb here—or so Bennett hopes.

—————————

Turns out, searching for a Harbinger is not proving as easy as Bennett had imagined. The people of Gandharva Ville were less than helpful, and so he ventures on towards Sumeru City, hoping the scholars over there won’t then tell him he should head out to the desert.

He can only hope the flowers won’t wilt by the time he manages to find Childe. Or at least that not all of them will be past their prime.

It’s a lonely road. The wilderness isn’t at all like Mondstadt’s—Bennett hasn’t got a clue about which mushrooms and which wild herbs are safe to eat, and so he sticks with wild meat whenever he can—he’s too concerned with stretching out his Mora for the whole trip to buy prepared dishes, although the smell of slow-cooked, fragrant meat has made his mouth water more than once.

He’s so very careful with his bouquet. He has borrowed a small vase to carry it around, and he changes the water every time he chances upon a drinking spot. He shades it the best he can. Not that there’s much he can do in the high noon sun, but he gives it his best. He keeps asking for Childe along the way—they keep telling him they have never seen a guy like this.

By noon on his third day, he finally makes it to the bottom of the giant tree of Sumeru City.

The place is full of sound, smells and colours, teeming with life; Bennett feels almost dizzy. There are so many people to ask—the logical first step would be the Adventurer’s Guild, but that yields no results. And so Bennett wanders around for a while, his feet heavy with tiredness.

Why has he come all the way here? This is ridiculous. Why would Childe even care about a bouquet of flowers?

Bennett thinks of giving up and wrapping back home. It would be so easy—to pretend he was never silly enough to give this a try, to pretend like he was not excessively attached to a dangerous man working for a criminal organization, to pretend like he never got the thought that maybe, just maybe his absurd feelings could be reciprocated.

Bennett knows that, though warm on the surface, Childe has a chilling, cunning darkness hidden in the depths of his heart. A man like that kills in cold blood, and squashes a lover’s affection like a tiny pest.

And Bennett chooses not to care. He chooses to hope Childe would not do this to him, although something within him still clings onto the fear.

After a full day of meandering, just as he’s about to find a room for the night, his eyes catch sight of a familiar silhouette—a blonde adventurer in a white dress.

“Lumine!” Bennett exclaims, and the girl stops in her tracks.

She turns to give him a quizzical look. “Bennett? What are you doing in Sumeru…?”

“I heard that Childe was here and I wanted to give him my…my…my Windblume.” Bennett avoids the Traveler’s gaze, heat creeping up his cheeks.

“Oh.” And then a silence. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.”

“But…do you know where he is?”

His heartbeat is way too fast. What if the Traveler doesn’t know they’ve been seeing each other? What if she doesn’t want them to see each other…? Her expression is unreadable.

“I think he’s in the Mawtiyima Forest. He had to go there to explore a giant ruin guard on the Fatui’s behalf,” A kind smile washes up on her face.

Bennett’s relief is immense. With his luck, Childe could have been back in Snezhnaya. He lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Can you…take me there?” he chances.

“Of course, Bennett. Who am I to get in the way of a young man’s love!” Lumine replies, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, as her smile turns to a wide grin.

The next second, they are in a place all blue and purple which seems straight out of a fairytale. Far ahead rolls the thunder of battle, the clunking of blades, the screams and grunts of an intense fight. Giant mushroom trunks everywhere block the view of what’s happening down the serpentine path.

Bennett runs towards the noise, and Lumine simply waves him goodbye before vanishing in a flurry of lights.

Is it really going to be him?! Has Bennett’s bad luck finally turned around? He clutches the vase in his arms, protectively, watches for roots that could trip him, making sure he’s not jinxing it at the last moment.

When he takes the next turn, he stumbles upon a deep valley filled with water, and the combat finally reveals itself—and oh, Bennett would recognize that familiar head of ginger anywhere.

He’s fighting a gigantic, quite angry lawachurl, just like the last time they saw each other—except this time, it’s an Electro one, and Childe’s Hydro is useless to pierce his defences.

Bennett nestles the pot of flowers between roots at the foot of the giant mushroom closest to him, grabs the hilt of his sword, and charges forth. The gleam of his Pyro Vision shines with his might—his burst of flames makes quite the dent in the creature’s elemental armour, and the next two hits suffice to bring it down completely. Then, Childe can finally give it the coup de grâce—and it finally collapses, and then vanishes to the Abyss.

Childe’s eyes meet Bennett’s, and the man grins.

“How did you get here, buddy…?” he asks, waving at him.

“I know you said you probably wouldn’t be able to come to the Windblume festival… So I brought the festival to you,” Bennett mumbles, avoiding Childe’s gaze.

“You…you got me windblumes?” Childe lets his swords vanish, and his eyes wander ostensibly towards the flower vase.

“Y-yeah,” Bennett stutters, running a hand through his hair.

“Aren’t windblumes supposed to be romantic?” the Harbinger asks.

“They don’t have to,” Bennett replies. “Well, mine don’t have to.” Heat rises on his cheeks as he avoids Childe’s cerulean gaze.

Childe chuckles. “But what if I’d like them to be?”

Bennett stares back, startled. Childe slowly walks closer, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What would you do if I’d like them to be, Benny boy?” he asks again.

“Y-you would like to…to be romantic with someone like me…?” Bennett mumbles.

He could swear Childe must hear his demented heartbeat. His heart at the seam of his lips, Bennett notices how there’s now only a step or two between them. He stares at Childe’s lips, and then back to his eyes.

“Yeah, I’d kinda like that, actually,” Childe says.

“You…you’re not kidding, are you?” Bennett knows Childe is not kidding. This is not something Childe kids about.

Childe shakes his head. “Why do you think I’ve come back to Mondstadt so often in the last few months?”

Me dances on Bennett’s lips. “Childe? I—”

“You can call me Ajax,” the man says, finally closing the space between their bodies, wrapping his arms around Bennett. “I like you. A lot,” he whispers next to Bennett’s ear, the fanning of his breath on bare skin spreading shivers down Bennett’s spine.

A lot of things click into place. The way Childe’s hands would linger on his skin—the gentle, soft touches—, the way his eyes would constantly trail to Bennett’s, the suggestions for outings to ‘romantic’ spots in Mondstadt and Liyue, the fancy dinners, the surprise gifts… Of course, Childe likes Bennett. But Bennett has never been liked like that before, and so he missed those signs. Maybe he’d have missed them even if love was a language he was fluent in—because Childe is so charming, so perfect, and even now as Bennett nuzzles chose to his chest, he smells like pine trees and morning dew—Bennett had no pretense to anything other than friendship, even if, deep down, he wished for more.

Childe pulls back. Ocean blue meets moss green; Bennett’s cheeks are on fire.

“I’d be glad to give those windblumes to you as a…a romantic gift,” Bennett finally says.

Childe hums. “Then I have a gift for you as well.”

“Huh? How—”

Bennett doesn��t finish his sentence. His words die against Childe’s lips, the contact of which feels like an electric shock spreading through Bennett’s whole body. Childe treats him gently, softly—and Bennett simply melts against him, pliant, eager. It doesn’t last for long, but leaves Bennett breathless, and leaves Childe with a smirk.

Bennett’s heart thunders like a thousand drums. He’s been kissed before, but never like that. He’s been kissed like kids kiss when they have no idea of what passion and tenderness are, when they don’t know yet what love feels like.

“Wait, let me just…” he says, as he leaves Childe’s arms to run towards the flower vase. He picks it up and turns back to Childe. “This is for you,” he says.

“And you thought there was a chance I wouldn’t take this as a romantic gift?” Childe quips. “Let me be honest with you: I was wondering when you’d cave in and kiss me, Benny.”

“But… I still haven’t kissed you,” Bennett says.

This time, he’s the one to take the initiative of closing the space between them, between their lips, and their second kiss is just as intoxicating as the first, despite being a slow, tender embrace.

In this moment, Bennett discovers that he can, indeed, be a delicate man—and he allows himself to be.

—————————

Bennett leaves Childe too early for his own taste. But Childe is on duty, and Bennett has to respect that.

The fact that the trip back to Mondstadt is just a teleportation trip makes all of it feel like a dream. In reality, he was gone three whole days, perhaps more.

And after the bliss of finding out his feelings are reciprocated, comes the longing for that which just was, and may not be again for a while. He keeps the ghost of Childe’s hands on his hips, his waist, his back, his shoulders, in his hair; he keeps the ghost of his smell in the fibres of his clothes; he tries his best to keep his silhouette, his hair, his eyes imprinted in his memory. He bundles all of these memories up in a corner of his mind, vowing to protect them at all costs.

Perhaps it’s the best treasure Bennett has ever brought back from an adventure.

—————————

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#childe x bennett #genshin bennett #chennett #genshin childe #tartaglia x bennett #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fic #my works #my fics

[destinyesque]

Roads

by Sam Lastname

Cassandra crashed our car in Kansas, a few miles down the road from the World's Largest Ball of Twine. She said it was an accident. I'm not convinced she didn't do it on purpose. I suppose how it happened doesn't really matter.

We ended up on the side of the road, the car miraculously right-side-up after it had swerved past the shoulder and rolled end-over-end once before settling. Neither of us had cell phones on us, and neither of us were in any condition to go seeking out the nearest gas station to call nine-one-one; someone else would do it for us eventually, anyway.

Cassandra was barely hurt at all, and I had hit my head on the dash only hard enough to make my brain jitter. I think I blacked out for a while, and the first thing I remember after the crash was her laughter filling the car like carbonated bubbles. On either side, the car doors had been dented, our little metal hovel almost destroyed in a single soda-can crunch. It was kind of funny, really. Or maybe that was the concussion talking.

I asked her how the hell she'd managed to fuck up highway driving on a mostly empty road with a mostly new sedan. She smiled at me and shrugged, and I remember thinking I wanted to kiss her. She'd been distracted, she said. She had drifted out of her lane and could do little more than panic. As if. She had years of driving experience under her belt, and I’m sure she could’ve driven these roads with her eyes closed and one hand behind her back.

At least it was like an adventure, she'd said. In the middle of our bleak, endless lives, a burst of sound and color, like a fuse lit too close to a firecracker—painful, but exhilarating. We could look back on the story fondly, maybe. Get some laughs at a party. She was wearing that kind of lopsided smile that I see in my head whenever I think of her. I remember agreeing with everything she'd said, out of disorientation if not understanding.

She kept on talking despite a busted lip, and it was probably the concussion that made me unclick my own seatbelt and lean over the center console and unclick her seatbelt too, even though it took a few tries, and it was probably the concussion that made me ask her, "can I kiss you?" and it was surely shock that made her say "yes" and put her hands on my cheeks and pull me in, and it might have been adrenaline that had us tilting back her seat and I wouldn’t have recognized the man who wasn't even embarrassed when the EMTs found him leaning over her, half in her lap, blood on both our lips, but it was definitely Cassandra that laughed and told them to fuck off before letting them wrangle her into the ambulance and drive us to the hospital.

Yeah, she said when we were both laid up in hospital beds, waiting on nightfall. Yeah, this is a pretty good story. One for the ages. (I remembered that part, "for the ages", because it was such an odd, so-very-Cassandra thing to say.)

I think both of us were loopy from medication because we weren't even really bothered by the knowledge that we'd be in completely different cities in the morning, and that we wouldn't see each other for months, probably. That neither of us would be telling anyone stories anytime soon. Or, maybe she would, but no one would remember her. Or me. Either of us.

 Here's how this whole thing worked: I awoke in a hotel bed in a highway town, the quiet hum of wheels-on-asphalt in my ears. I checked the time, opened the window. Unless there was snow outside, I had no idea where I was. I walked to the diner (there was always a diner—this is America, after all). The menu was usually the same, and I usually ordered the same thing: two pancakes, two eggs, and just water, please. The waiters were different in each town—I hardly ever talked to them, but it was nice anyway. I didn’t bother remembering their faces, because I'd be hundreds of miles away tomorrow morning. I ate. I paid with the money in my pants pocket (always seventeen dollars, every day). I left. I took a walk, just to see if there was anything interesting nearby. There usually wasn’t, of course, but it didn’t hurt to try. At the very least, I could find a corner store or a gas station. I'd buy dinner there later. I spent the day in the hotel room or outside, by a Wendy's parking lot. Usually, I just read, if I could find a book anywhere. I got real familiar with hotel Bibles; it’s not as if I had anything better to do. I ate dinner and went to sleep. Every night, at exactly midnight, I would be flung into a new town, an identical hotel room. Whether or not I had been asleep by then, I wouldn’t remember anything else until I woke up the next morning to repeat everything the next day in a different state. I lived an odd sort of Groundhog Day. So it goes, or whatever.

 Cassandra and I met in Tennessee. Or, she’d seen me in Kansas weeks earlier and we introduced ourselves in Tennessee. I was eating breakfast at a diner, same as every other day in every other town. She sat right down in the chair across from me—this plain, gangly girl with dark hair thick enough to be called a mane—and said she saw me the day I woke up in a tiny town called Grainfield. She couldn't have, because I didn't know anyone. She insisted, though, and even though I left her alone in the diner that day, chewing on strips of bacon she had stolen from my plate, I remembered her face.

 It was three months before I saw her again, in Ohio this time. I was sitting on a bench outside that day's hotel, reading a trashy thriller, when she stepped out of the lobby, stretching her arms so that a tiny strip of skin peeked out from under her shirt. Her hair was shorter. It took me a moment to place her in my memory, the handful of sentences we’d exchanged bubbling to the surface. Before I could say anything, she caught my eye. Her face turned real smug, and I got an earful of I-told-you-so until she ran out of steam. We walked to the only restaurant that wasn't a chain and sat down in booths in the back. Neither of us trusted the other quite yet, but I didn't have anything to hide and she was content to tell me the basics.

Turned out, we were in similar situations. Different towns, different states, different hotel rooms, same problem. For her, it had been six months. She remembered what it was like before this life in a way that I didn't. She said she was going to get out. I remember laughing her off, and then hardly believing my ears when I realized she was serious.

She took me to the library, where she looked up curses and wormholes and maps of the country, like she could find some explanation for this endless loop. She wanted me to help, but I didn’t know how any of it was supposed to help either of us. Still, she was determined. I dozed off in an armchair for most of the day, and she put fruitless work into research. She’d learn, eventually, I figured.

The whole time, she talked to me about all her plans, what she’d been doing—because of the nature of this whole thing, she couldn’t keep books or notes or anything. They were just gone the next day, and we were left with the same items we started with that morning. Cassandra said she had a good memory, though, and it was almost impressive. She remembered all sorts of things from books she'd read before, like the names of demons used in medieval curses and the equations for how light bends around a heavy enough object. When the library closed at nine, Cassandra had twenty pages of notes on all sorts of things, and I was almost convinced they could be useful. Almost.

We walked back to the hotel and put up in her room for the night. Cassandra got to memorizing all the information on the pages and I turned on whatever bad TV was playing. I think I fell asleep, because I don't remember much of anything after the first episode of House Hunters.

I woke up in another hotel bedroom, a few states away, more afraid than I could remember being in a long time. I could do little more than hopelessly hope that Cassandra would get out, get what she wanted.

 I used to worry that no one would remember me. I didn't really remember anyone, and Cassandra hadn't always been around. I remembered the tar-black road and I remembered a whole lot of towns that blurred together into one, and I remembered ground and sky that met together in a straight line in the middle. Living like this felt a whole lot like shining a lantern in the dark, because I could see where I was, right here, and I could see a few feet behind me and a few feet ahead, but I couldn't situate any of it within a larger whole. I didn’t know much about the before. I thought I had a sibling, maybe. Younger. And parents, maybe friends. There wasn’t a lot more than that. I might’ve been forgetting more and more as time went on, but, hell, I couldn’t even remember enough to know if that was true. Soon, I was sure I’d be left with just this. Just, you know, asphalt.

People don't realize just how much of this country is flat. All the land west of the Appalachians and east of the Rockies is empty brown field, like God drew the highways in but forgot to furnish the rest. As far as I'm concerned, the only difference between Iowa and Arkansas is temperature. Most of the people—most of the culture in this country is concentrated on either coast, so much so that they forget there's anything at all between New York and California. Flat, empty America is most of America, at least by landmass. And even where the smooth skin of this that land is marred with mountains and valleys, I could always count on the highways being the same.

 I tried to kill myself in Arizona, once. This was a few years ago, I think, but things sort of got fuzzy at the edges after so much time within same-y hotel walls drenched in cigarette smoke and dirty linoleum tile and black ribbon roads. I was alone, and I didn't remember very much in either direction. I don't know if the problem was me or if it was the country. Probably a bit of both.

However it was, I'd had enough. I woke up in a desert town with the same fast-food places and chain motels and tired old roads as in Minnesota. If I saw another day scarred with all the cursed things that I already knew too well, I thought I wouldn't be able to take it.

There was a pharmacy a bit away from the hotel I woke up in. The lights buzzed in the ceiling when I walked in, and one of the employees told me to let them know if I needed any help. I won't explain the irony.

In the end, I bought a few bottles of painkillers and an orange soda. The cashier must have asked if I was alright, because I remember reassuring her that my sister was having cramps, and I remember her saying the soda would only make the imaginary sister feel worse. One of us laughed when I said the soda was for me, not her. She wished me well and I didn't think about anything else until I was back in my hotel bed, leaning against the headboard like an invalid.

I took the pills one-by-one and washed them down with the soda. Not much of that night is clear anymore. I felt bad, and everything was blurry, and I threw up in the toilet a few times. None of it was worth it, because I was still there, obviously, and this damn country didn't let me out of its grip. I don’t even know if death would’ve freed me, or if the afterlife is the same as this. An endless road, a journey that leads nowhere.

I woke up in another hotel bedroom, in Iowa this time, completely fine and unfortunately alive.  

 I tried to kill myself in Iowa, once. Then in Nevada. Then Alabama, Wisconsin, Illinois. I thought killing myself would be the hardest thing I’d ever do, but eventually the reality of everything sort of crystalized, and I began to understand that the hardest thing was to know I was alive, and to know I couldn't do anything about it.

 I’ve heard that all horror boils down to fear of the unknown. I don’t think that’s right. There was a sort of horror in familiarity, too. Because I lived out every day in a town I've never been to before and that I'd never return to again, to the point where each new town was as familiar as the last. I'd been all around, but things didn’t change a whole lot. Certain buildings just got copied over in every state, every town. Gas stations, fast food joints, and hotels were the big ones, but every diner was just about the same, and the houses were all built with identical DNA, and the roads were all shaped by the same hand of God. There was a sort of horror in knowing you could travel as far as you wanted, but you'd never escape all the things that framed your life. I wondered, sometimes, if there were other copies of me, scattered around like everything else; maybe a few details changed, but the same at their core. I didn't know if that scared me or comforted me.

 The second time I saw Cassandra, we had both ended up in a log cabin motel to one side of Route 41, a half-hour walk to Calumet, Michigan—quaint in comparison to the endless Motel 6’s and Holiday Inns. We were the only ones there, since I guess the owners closed down for the off-season. It was mid-autumn at that point. Not quite time for skiing, but not warm enough to otherwise justify visiting the Upper Peninsula.

The whole motel was dark and cold. I woke up around dawn, shivering, and tried to go back to sleep, but eventually I had to give in to the temperature and look around for more blankets or something.

I got up with the comforter around my shoulders, flicked the light switch on and off a few times to no effect, and wandered to the tiny hotel common room, which seemed to already be occupied by one Cassandra, cuddled up in blankets filched from a linen closet. She had a weak fire going in the fireplace already, an armchair pulled up as close as she could get, and an old book in hand, already halfway read. I called her name and she startled to life, swearing like a sailor. I think I laughed. She scolded me, sniffled, and huddled back into her seat.

Fancy seeing you here, I said, to what do I owe the pleasure?

She smacked me with her book. Things were the same as before, she told me, and she hadn’t had any luck with her escape plot (Yet. She was adamant that ‘yet’ was the operative word here). Still, she had an idea. Maybe, maybe if she drove far enough west, hit the coast, the edge of the world, maybe then she could break free. Maybe braving the road, all the way to the end, was the only way out. I believed her.

Not today though, she said. She had spent the last couple weeks up north for the most part, probably caught a cold at some point. If there had been a car in the deserted lot out front, she wouldn’t have felt up to driving anyway, especially not in this weather. Even now, a light snow drifted outside the window. Usually, they’re pretty good about plowing the roads this far north, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe.

Cassandra wasn’t feeling up to finding food, content to hang out in her blanket nest as long as the cold (both the sickness and the temperature) remained. I scrounged up some canned soup and instant coffee from a break room of sorts, found a deck of beat-up cards too. The plumbing seemed to be out, but between all ten-ish bathrooms in the place, I got enough water for a few cups of coffee. Couldn’t figure out how to turn on the power, though. Apologized to Cassandra for that. She teased me about it, I remember. Said I must not have been an engineer before I got stuck in the loop. I didn’t remember what I was before this whole thing; now that she brought it up, it bothered me in a way it hadn’t since… long enough ago that I didn’t remember that part, either.

The only card games either of us knew were Blackjack and Go Fish, but we made the best of it. The soup helped, too. As the day ticked into mid-afternoon, the snow only got thicker, and Cassandra and I got to talking. She had graduated college about a year ago, one of the state schools on the east coast, with a degree in mathematics. She loved embroidery, her family had a pet cat named Sourdough (because he looked like a loaf of bread), and her two twin sisters were about to enter undergrad. She grew up in a suburb, but she left because there was nothing to do there. Ended up driving west on her own, road-tripping to “find herself or whatever” (the derision is all hers). Got stuck in a dead-end highway town a week in, and it had been like this since.

I think she was expecting me to give her my own story, leaving home and finding myself out here in desolate middle-America, but my story didn’t extend much outside a couple weeks of same-old, same-old memories and a handful of moments that broke the years-long monotony, one of which she already knew, because she’d been part of it—it isn’t often that you meet a fellow victim of the American backroads. At least, not a victim in this particular way.

 (I didn’t it then, but I thought I had a sister.

 I thought I had loved someone, once.

 But I wasn’t even sure of that.)

 I think she was sorry for me. Even though she was stuck in the same goddamn situation, the same goddamn highway towns every day, she still had it in her to feel pity. I guess she thought I was further gone even than she was. Which was probably true. I was forgetting more and more every day, the lights illuminating my past and future flicking out and dark nothing approaching on either side. She said she’d been forgetting things too, but not nearly as much. It scared me. I remembered a time before her, but I still couldn’t imagine a time after her, if I forgot her, too.

She must have noticed I was afraid, because she put her hand on my arm and reassured me that we’d meet again. When you wake up tomorrow, drive to Beloit, Kansas, she said. It was pretty damn close to the center of the country. No matter where we ended up, that would be our best shot to find each other before we were disappeared away to the next town, she said. We would be alright, she said.

 The next morning, I carjacked a pickup in Kentucky and overheated the engine trying to reach Beloit. I didn’t make it, but I kept trying. Some days, I’d start close enough to get there, but she wouldn’t. Some days, it was the opposite. Still, every now and again, both of us made it. Cassandra still wanted to hit the west coast eventually, but Beloit was nearly a full day’s drive away from any kind of ocean. Mostly, when we were together, we kind of just hung out, got food, tried to figure out what there was to do in a town of less than three thousand. It was one of those days, after we visited the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, that Cassandra flipped the car over on the highway. I liked those days. I was the closest I’d ever been to being happy that I could remember. Beloit didn’t change everything. Both of us were still mostly stuck in middle-America hotel purgatory. Most days, I still didn’t want to do much more than lay down and die, and I was still forgetting things. Cassandra had to remind me several times about how we first met. But if nothing else, it was an improvement.

 I was in New Mexico, before I met Cassandra, at another one of those lonely hotels. The empty ones, with a few cars inexplicably out front. There wasn't much of anything else for miles, so I took one of the cars and picked a direction. This was a long time ago. I think I was still trying to get out of the loop back then, but the memory has faded edges, so I don't know for sure. I remember turning onto the highway around nine in the morning and thinking that I wouldn't turn off until the car stalled out or I drove off the end of the earth. I didn't see much of anything the whole time I was on the road. Just one long line of asphalt, threading beneath my car like God was pulling it past me from the other end. I remember the sky was big and blue and everything beneath it glowed orange with the sunlight, as if in protest.

I made a game of counting cars, but I only got to ten or so before several hours had passed and I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere. Maybe the road had stretched out beneath my tires, so that every mile on the speedometer was really only an inch. Or maybe I was moving at seventy miles per hour, but the land was just a lot bigger than I had imagined. Like I said, people forget how much of this country is flat.

I kept going and going, and every hour or so, I'd drive past an exit sign advertising a gas station, or a fast-food brand "only 0.2 miles on the next right!" but I didn't stop for anything. I didn't eat, didn't drink, and the fuel tank never went below half-full. All I could do was keep mindlessly driving onward, so I didn't do anything but.

I watched the big blue sky turn pink and orange and red, and then deep blue and black and speckled with stars just as cold as the couple other headlights I passed. The car's dashboard clock was off by a few hours at least, so I didn't know what time it was except by guessing. I kept going in the dark, without streetlights or anything. Eventually, I flicked off my headlights and just kept going straight. Not out of confidence or anything. I guess I just did it because I was bored. Maybe I thought I could hide from my affliction. I don't know. With the dark and the hum of the engine and gentle jitter of the suspension, it was almost peaceful. I took my hands off the wheel. The car might have veered off the road, tires bumping over sand and dirt rather than asphalt. It was hard to tell the difference. Either way, that was probably the furthest I got from the highway in a long time. I still woke up the next morning in a neat, white-sheet hotel bed.

  The last time I met Cassandra, we were in Montana. It was winter, and rubber-stained snow was piled in dunes on either side of the road. I hadn’t even started in the same town as her that morning. She drove in with a car I didn't recognize and we stumbled across each other in a gas station. She was counting out singles to figure out how to pay for both gas and a drink, and I was wandering the town looking for something better to eat than chips and gum. Neither endeavor was going particularly well, so I remember she lit up when she saw me out of the corner of her eye as I pushed through the front door.

Her eyes were red and her hair was out of sorts, but her cold-cracked grin was bright as ever. Or maybe I was just imagining that part. I lent her some of my cash to pay for everything and then some.

As it turned out, she had picked up an SUV that morning and was beelining her way west. She wanted to hit the coast before midnight, she said, if she didn't spin out on the icy roads first. It wasn't even a question that I was going to climb into her passenger seat and ride along with her.

We had just made it out of Idaho by the time it started to get dark. It was just after five, according to the clock in the car—winter this far north was like that. Cassandra more-or-less had the major American highways memorized, but she still had me navigate with a huge fold-out map we bought in Spokane.

We stopped at a McDonald’s drive-thru for dinner and Cassandra moved to the passenger side. She didn’t like driving in the dark much, but I didn’t mind it. She was supposed to be navigating, but she fell asleep not twenty minutes after we got going again. It was the kind of sleep that isn’t quite ‘sleep’, per se, but more a fitful doze. She kept humming unhappily and shifting around. At one point, her head slipped out of her hand and hit the window with a solid crack. She groaned and blinked blearily. When I asked if she was okay, she didn’t answer and just went back to sleep. I kept my eyes on the road, but it was hard not to look at Cassandra, at least a little. In the daylight, she had seemed the same as she always was; stubborn, determined, bright. But in the growing dark, the shadows on her face illuminated an exhaustion I hadn’t noticed. It was like gazing into a mirror. She looked like me. Hollow. Tired. If this wasn’t her last shot at freedom, she was at least pretty close to hitting her limit. I didn’t wake her, but I didn’t stop, either.

The coast came up suddenly. It was dark. There weren’t any sea birds still around this deep into winter. The burning cold far overwhelmed the saltwater smell. By the time I had left the highway and hit the end of a tiny beach road, our clock showed eleven thirty-eight. We had made it.

Cassandra woke up as soon as I parked, staring blankly at the rolling waves some fifty feet ahead of us. She didn’t say anything, just pushed open her door and stepped into the sand and the biting wind. I followed.

Without streetlights or electric anything nearby, I could hardly see anything, but the steady murmur of the waves was more than enough to guide me. Ahead of me, Cassandra stopped. Took her boots off. Dug her feet into the sand just before the edge of the water. She looked at me and I looked back. Breathed in deep. Held it. I took her hand.

In step, we walked into the ocean, cold wind and cold water gnawing at our skin.

Well, we’re here, she said. I nodded.

Thank you, I said.

It’s late, she said.

I know, I said.

One way or another, she said, I’m not going back.

Good, I said. Me neither.

In the water, my legs began to sting. The cold and the dark worked their way through my clothes and into my skin. Minutes ticked on. I don’t know how many. Eventually, we came out of the water, put our boots back on, and watched the clouds skitter across a half-full moon.

#my successful application to my school's creative writing honors thesis program

[fireintheflames]

I don’t usually do too many posts on here, but I thought I’d take this time to talk about the EV experience in Michigan! With gas prices going up and up, some of you who are reliant on cars may be looking into your EV options, so I thought it would be fun to share what having an EV in the Midwest is like!

For some background, my boyfriend bought the previous revision, base-model Chevy Bolt in 2021 as his old Mercury Grand Marquis started flaking on him. It looks almost exactly like this:

He owns a small home in one of what MI refers to as the “Tri-Cities”, a triangle of cities located approximately 30-45 miles from each other. He commutes daily about 45 minutes each way, on a combination of highway driving and back roads. He does limited travel outside of the area, primarily to visit friends in Detroit or SW MI.

For those of you who keep up with such things, you may recognize that particular model of Bolt as having a recall for catching on fire while charging. His has not. However, that did cut the available charge, which impacts the range.

Now the good bits! What’s it like, hows the range, hows the charging, would I recommend!

1. What’s it like:

Cute. Egg shaped. A friend. It has great visibility, a surprisingly roomy interior, heated seats and steering wheel, a good AC system, really crappy heat. Tree buds like to accumulate under the wipers due to a big gap between the windshield and hood. It can fit most things you want to fit in your car. Back seats can fit 3 if desperate, 2 if sane. Has a very nice purse holding section on the floor he insists on filling with coffee cans.

It’s quiet. Which is nice! Until you get in a gas powered car and wonder what is wrong with it!

It’s also surprisingly fast. Like, shockingly fast. It doesn’t fuck around with acceleration. He likes to race trucks off the light to gloat.

Regen braking takes some getting used to. It works better than the brakes on my car. He claims he doesn’t even need to touch the pedals. I think he’s lying.

2. Range:

There are exactly 2 places worth going in MI that cannot be reasonably reached with the Bolt. Both are in the UP, and would be better experiences in a Jeep or similar adventuring vehicle.

Full charged range is typically about 200 or so miles. For those of you keeping score at home, on a 70mph speed that’s just shy of 3 hours. Most road trips are best with stops every 2 hours or so, so already looking good.

A typical weekL

M-F: Average about 100-120 miles of travel (100 mile around trip commute, 20 or so miles of errands, groceries, ect) , charge ~8hrs overnight on home electric

Sat-Sun: have about 180 miles charged up for exploring, or charge to full.

Doing a trip under 60 minutes away? Just go. Do it. It’s fine. This will get you to Lansing, many parks, Flint, ect.

Doing a trip around 90-120 miles away? Stop to charge once. In Lansing, Bay City, Novi, or Filnt, typically.

Range reducers: Speed higher than 55mph (an excuse to take the beautiful backroads!), turn on the heat (inefficient!), cold weather (heats the batteries!). Running things like radio and heated seats eats very little power. AC is dependent on how hot it is and how cold you want to be, but seems to do better than heat.

The Bolt tells you when you have flown too close to the sun. Very loudly. With flashing lights.

3. Charging:

Charging the Bolt is slow (a well known thing with it, other EVs are a lot faster). We charge primarily at home (plug into side of house), but when out and low on juice it is time to hit up an Electrify America station! Most seem to be in Meijer parking lots (a semi-local Big Box Store, for those of you not familiar. Like Walmart, but better in very conceivable way). The one in Novi is in a very nice plaza with a great Indian takeout restaurant that, conveniently, takes abut the same amount of time as a charging Bolt. We typically go grab snacks/pee while it charges, like rest area or gas station.

It takes about 30-40 minutes to charge at a fast charger to full (which is a quirk of the model, it’s notoriously slow. The MachE next to us was much faster). Most of the time we do a 20 minute charge.

Home charging takes about 12 hours to get to full, but with the added benefit of you are home and probably sleeping for a chunk of that anyway!

Home charging about doubled his electric bill, but is still WAY WAY cheaper than gas. We priced out he is currently paying a little less than half as much at the more expensive fast charging stations, and about a 1/3rd that at home. He is very smug.

4. Do a recommend:

Well, I recommend EVs in general if you are car dependent. But using the Chevy Bolt as an example, they work best if:

 There is a charger available within 15-20 minutes of your workplace, at a grocery store you frequent, or another convenient location.

OR

You have access to charging where you park. Most apartments don’t, some parking garages do. Most single family homes do, but owning a house is not exactly common.

Your daily commute is roughly equivalent to the range of an overnight home charge (for the Bolt, ~100-150 miles, so up to 70 miles one way)

Electricity is significantly cheaper than gas per mile (which it is most places, but always good to check!)

Most things you want to do are with 100 miles. From where he lives, that gets you pretty much down to Detroit, across to Grand Rapids, and north to Mackinaw.

You can afford the sticker price. EVs aren’t cheap. The Bolt is one of the more affordable options, but even then it’s about $30K.

I love it, he loves it, we’ve put almost 20K miles on it already! If it meets your needs, I would recommend switching if you can!

#long post #EVs

[themanyadventures0fknb]

First thing you wash in the shower? - My hair.

2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? - Neither.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? - Yes.

4. Do you plan outfits? - Yep, the night before. So before I get into bed so I can get up and go quickly.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? - Tired

6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? - Nothing really lol

7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? - Gasp

8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? - It was my best friend, her daughter and parents.

9. Three of your current feelings? - tired, relaxed, and proud

10. What are you craving right now? - Pizza

11. Turn ons? - An understanding partner that can make me laugh

12. Turn offs? A partner who doesn’t understand, someone who is too serious about everything

13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? - St Patrick’s Day

14. When was the last time you cried? Why? - On my way home from work because my husband would not listen to me and hear me out

15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? - not sure

16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? - Heh, nope but I guess they feel a half ass apology was good enough and then karma bit them in the ass because they told me someone said something that upset them and offended them and they got an apology like “well if I said anything like that which I don’t recall I apologize”….what comes around goes around.

17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? - lick it mostly

18. Favorite movie ever? - Wizard of Oz and all of the Back to the Future movies

19. Do you like yourself? - Of course. I’m not perfect but I’m a good person with a huge heart

20. Have you ever met a celebrity? - yes I have

21. Could you handle being in the military? - Not at all

22. What are you listening to right now? - The first Back to the Future movie

23. How many countries have you visited? - Two

24. Are your parents strict? - Not so much

25. Would you go sky diving? - Yeah I think I might go if someone wanted to

26. Would you go out to eat with a stranger? - probably not

27. Whats on your mind right now? - my baby and the registry

28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? - nope .. Don’t like wasting my breath

29. Have you ever been in a castle? - don’t think so

30. Do you rent movies often? - no

31. Whats your zodiac sign? - Aquarius

32. When was the last time you had sex? - this past weekend

33. Name five facts about yourself. - I’m an identical twin, I’m the oldest of the two, I love foodie adventures, im the last of the siblings to have kids, I was the first to graduate college n my dad’s side of the family

34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? - nope. or we’ll maybe when my sister pushed me off the top of a slide-she thought I was dead because she couldn’t wake me up

35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? - karma, yes

36. Brown or white eggs? - doesn’t matter to me

37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? - I used to own a lot of stuff from Hot Topic

38. Ever been on a train? - Yes

39. Ever been in love? - Yes

40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? - Sure!

41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? - No one

42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to becopme more attractive, would you do it? - no

43. Whom do you admire and why? - My mother because she’s amazing

44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? - don’t remember

45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? - I’d be walking on the other side of the street first of all

46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? - No, I want them to have their own choice

47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? - no such thing.

48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? - don’t have one

50. As your walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? - probably

51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? My one friend did and I still hung out with them

52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? - No!

53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? - 19?

54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? - ghosts yes

55. If you could live forever, would you want to? - with the way the world is, no

56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? - not sure

57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? - -1940s-1960s

58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? - No!

59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? - fuck no!

60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? - No!

61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? - be wealthy

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 10

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TEN:  THELGAEWYNN

Ignoring Du’s sharp glare, I pick up the bacon sandwich and turn it around in my fingers for a moment, lifting it under my nose to inhale deeply and prepare myself.  Gods … if I hadn’t already eaten three fried eggs and four whole sausages my mouth’d be watering a whole lot more, but smelling this just makes me hungry all over again.  Maybe it’s just that this food is so bloody good, I swear I never eaten half so good anywhere else as I have here in the Temple of Minerva … or maybe it’s the fact I’m so completely alive right now, like my recent brush with death is making me appreciate all these simple pleasures so much more all of a sudden.  I suspect it’s both.

Clearly I ain’t alone, the twins sure like this grub too.  The two teenage half-orcs are absolutely mowing their way through substantial trayfuls of heaped food, with grease-splattered grins on their faces and big, sparkling eyes as they snipe and josh with each other between mouthfuls.  They’re an infectiously likeable duo, I can definitely see why Shay’s so fond of ‘em both, beyond her simple projected kinship.  I wonder how much she was like that when she was their age.

Their father’s real interesting too.  I never actually met a military orc before myself, not even an ex soldier, but if I ever imagined one Sonagh’s just who I’d picture in my head.  He’s real tall and broad across the shoulders, powerful but not too overlarge altogether, and he clearly keeps himself in muscular, fighting fit form despite his clear advancing years.  He’s pretty good looking too, although really not my type at all, worn and weathered without looking broken down, his still thick black hair shot through with plenty of silver.

He looks a bit battered now, but I hear that’s cuz he’s been right through it recently.  ‘Parently Kesla and her crew saved him from a real nasty assassination attempt last week, day after they arrived, courtesy of the very folk we been hunting.  I’m told he was at Corvina’s Black Door not long ago, near dead from some real nasty exotic poison from two arrows in the back, only for the skill of Brigid’s clerics to pull him back from the brink.  He’s been holed up in her temple since, at first just recovering, but since then laying low with his children at the insistence of Madame Daste, on account of Vandryss wanting him dead.

In spite of it all, though, he looks passably spry, all things considered.  Dark circles round his eyes and a little more drawn in the face than I might’ve expected for his age, but he walks steady enough, and his colour’s good, while his appetite’s suitably strong like his son and daughter’s.  Certainly he makes for good company now.

Shay and Krakka were sure surprised to see him, when he just seemed to wander into the lounge almost of his own accord with his kids in tow.  They got over their initial surprise quick enough, though, immediately descending on him with greetings and congratulations at looking so well, all things considered, and soon enough started plying him with questions.  Yeslee, meanwhile, simply slunk off, likely with the intention of finding the others from her group in order to inform them too of this new development.

Almost of his own accord, I mean, he was in the company of an Authority official, someone I was a moment placing before recognising ‘em at last, as much I think cuz I was just surprised to actually see ‘em alive.  Junior Deputy Administrator Cafi Sirsk should be dead, I’m sure of it, I sure expected her to be among the dead from Madame Daste’s ill-fated drive to reinforce us before Vandryss pulled her latest cruel trick.  Instead they showed up here today with Sonagh and his kids in tow.

As they finally make their way to the table now with a much more modestly laid tray in hand, I have to admit they don’t look like they been through hell.  They’re a little twitchier than they seemed last time we met, in the Transit House, but under the circumstances reckon that’s to be expected.  They manage something resembling a pleasant, disarming smile as they greet us all once again.  “I trust I’m welcome to join you all?”

This causes a few frowns of confusion round the table, before Krakka just nods to the empty chair beside him.  “Whyever wouldn’t you be?”

“Thank you, Master Krakka.”  Their smile grows, seeming a little more touched as they clearly take the compliment to heart.  Setting their tray down on the table, they deftly pull the chair out and plant themselves with swift, careful efficiency before shaking a napkin out and dropping it into their lap.  “I must admit, all this running about has given me an appetite, and it has been a while since I availed myself of this temple’s legendary hospitality.”

“Yeah, it sure is something.”  Shay beams warmly, munching on a big bite of syrup slathered waffle.

Much as I’d like to add my own acknowledgment of that wonderful fact, my hunger’s too strong, so I just tear off another big bite o’ sandwich.  Minerva knows I need the strength, her clerics have performed genuine miracles getting me back on my feet at last but I’m still a ways from fighting fit, much as I’d like to pretend to the contrary.  I’m putting a brave face on it but while I finally got my balance back and enough strength in my legs now I can actually walk around without support, it’s wiping me out enough just being up and about.  I’m hoping a good hearty meal might get me over the hump, maybe even get me back in the fight in time for the next push, but it’s a gamble.

Dumoli’s seen right through my show o’ strength, of course.  He knows me too well.  He’s holding his tongue this time, letting me get on with what I need to do, but he’s still giving me hard glares the whole time, making it abundantly clear he don’t approve.

‘Least Brung’s behaving like nothing’s up, which makes it easier for me to ignore my other friend.  He’s perched on his chair in the corner just working his way through his own meal with his typical hard-learned restraint, I sense mostly for the benefit of our new guests this time.  Following the various conversations like always but otherwise being very unobtrusive about it.

Certainly, I was a little surprised how easily they seemed to adjust to his presence, but it still bore watching, people react negatively to our smallest member far too frequently.  Sonagh took one look at him and simply bent down, extending his hand, which took the goblin very much by surprise, but he shook it quick enough.  His children took all of ten seconds to get over their own surprise, now they’re mostly just passingly intrigued by him.

Right now, though, they’re both clearly fully focused on the food, and it’s really quite sweet.  Taga, the girl, definitely seems to be the one who’s in charge out of the two of ‘em, lively and irreverent as her brother but clearly also much more forceful with it, and I suspect she must be the one who always instigates the mischief.  Tebb, on the other hand, seems more content to just go along with it – he’s by no means submissive, he definitely gives as good as he gets when she snipes at him, but I get the impression he’s happy enough deferring to her lead.  ‘Least they do get on, which I know well enough ain’t too often the case with siblings, but then being twins their connection’s too strong for enmity.

“So they just do this every day, then?”  Taga can barely be understood through her substantial mouthful.  Certainly, Sirsk must be translating exactly what was said, the way she pauses before answering.

“Oh, yes.  Of course.  They keep their kitchen open all the time, so the food is always available, even late into the night and early in the morning.  After all, the Silver Order is made up of people who come and go at all hours, so they don’t know when they might need to take a meal.  It’s really as much a matter of convenience as anything else.”

“But there’s just so much food, though.”  Tebb’s eyes are wide over the idea, a speared chunk of sausage held barely an inch short of his mouth, seemingly forgotten now as he makes his own enquiry.  “I mean, that spread is big as it is, if it keeps getting refilled, then …”

“It’s well known all across Rundao that Minerva’s temples are always open to the benefit of the people, and that includes the kitchens.  So if anyone turns up at the doors in need of a good meal, it will always be provided without any need for payment.”

“Wow!”  Taga’s as impressed by her brother, her own effort to appear cool about it slipping instantly.  “That’s … I mean that’s so cool.”

“Ain’t it, though.”  Sonagh passes a surprisingly knowing look Sirk’s way, which just makes the official smile indulgently.  I wonder how long they known him, they both seem so calm and at ease with each other.

“Oh, here they come.”  Krakka mutters low, looking out across the canteen now.  It’s late in the morning now, approaching noon, I reckon, so there ain’t many other people here right now, before the lunchtime rush, making it easy enough to catch new arrivals.  So I spot Kesla immediately as she makes her way towards us, Art and Lady Naru close on her heels while Yeslee’s strolling behind at a more leisurely pace, looking moody as ever.

Picking up their napkin, Sirsk carefully dabs at their lips even though they’re clean as when they sat down, and pushes their chair back with care before getting to their feet.  They immediately go about inspecting their smart robes of office, smoothing them down even though there’s no need, finally taking a moment to adjust their floppy brown curls, their face growing more pensive now.  They’re making a typically impressive show of assuming a professional air, but … I dunno, I can still detect the subtlest anxiety underneath it now, as they watch the big woman approach.

Kesla’s eyes widen well before she reaches us, her pace slowing as her feet stumble a touch once recognition hits.  But she recovers quick enough, starting to frown as she looks the young administrator over.  “Bloody hell … you’re still alive.  How the fuck …”

“Mistress Shoon, it’s as much a relief as it is a pleasure to see you again.  I apologise that it must be under such … strained circumstances, but unfortunately the situation has –”

Art don’t stop moving when he reaches ‘em, instead just stepping right up to Sirsk and wrapping ‘em up in a hug before they even realise it’s happening.  They’re both about the same height, so Sirsk is cut right off mid-sentence, more from pure surprise than being crushed, I suspect, but they let it happen, their face going a little red all the same.  Kesla, meanwhile, just stands by, watching with her brow quirked high, a little incredulous as she waits for the young prowler to get his shit together.

“Oh … shit, sorry.”  Art backs off quick, looking real awkward, and I got no doubt under his fur he’ll be blushing deep.  “That was … I’m so sorry …”

“No, it’s … quite all right.”  Sirsk still seems a little take aback, having to inwardly scramble somewhat to get her thoughts back in order as they once more take a moment to smooth their robes again.  “I suppose I should have expected some kind of reaction.”

“Well, I mean …”  Kesla frowns again, shifting her feet uneasily as she looks them over again.  “After what happened to Madame Daste, we figured you were gone along with the rest of ‘em.  Seeing you here now is … a little unexpected.”

“Yes, I know.”  They look past her, and I see Yeslee’s eyeing the administrator pretty closely.  Not too hard to work out what that’s about.  “I understand it looks … bad, but I promise you, I am on the level, as I believe you would put it.”

“I can vouch for Cafi well enough in this.”  Lady Naru interjects, calm as ever.  “I’ve known them for ten years, and I was the one who originally secured them the position with Venne.  I trust them, so you can too.”

Turning to Yeslee, Kesla cocks her brow again.  “Reckon that’s good enough for me.”

The Fir Bolg don’t answer, but I didn’t exactly expect her to.  She just turns back to her subject, maintaining her fierce stare.

“Her Ladyship was taking care of her arrangements personally, so she left me behind at Redarra House with orders to continue with our inquiries on behalf of young Master Foxtail.  When I heard about … what had happened …”  They swallow hard, growing uncomfortable again as they look down at the floor, and their voice seems to crack just a touch as they carry on.  “Um … I’m ashamed to admit it was as much a relief to me as a shock.  As if –”

“She saved your life without even meaning to.”  Kesla sighs, crossing her arms now as she looks down too.  “Yeah, I get that.  I promise you, it ain’t your fault that she died, but you’re gonna feel like shit about it for a while all the same.  But you can do something about it.”

“Yes, of course.”  Sirsk takes a deep breath as they look up at her again, gathering their composure.  “I am … at your service, Mistress Shoon.  Anything you require from the Authority, I will do my best to provide it.  For her Ladyship.  My friend.”

For a moment, nobody speaks, the sentiment hitting all of us pretty hard, then Kesla reaches out and gives their shoulders a companionable squeeze.  “Good on you, then.  It’s appreciated.”

Sonagh’s getting to his feet now, not bothering to inspect himself as he brushes his own clothes off.  They’re a somewhat mismatched collection, I’ll admit, a pair of simple, somewhat oversized wool britches tucked into a pair of well-made but rather battered leather boots, underneath a rather oversized linen smock that I suspect he was given by Brigid’s temple.  They have short sleeves that show how his thick, tightly muscled wrists, like his massive, gnarled hands, are covered in scars.  He leaves his own chair stuck out as he moves round, heading straight for Kesla.

She sees him coming, but doesn’t seem surprised this time, more just relieved.  “Damn good to see you up and about, I gotta admit.”

Taking a deep breath, Sonagh extends his right hand to her.  “I gotta thank you, all of you, for what you did.  Not just for me, but … thank you.  For protecting my children.”

“That was all Shay, she did it without even thinking.”  Kesla takes his hand and gives it a firm pump.  “But thanks ain’t necessary, we all just reacted.  They weren’t just shooting for you, they came for all of us.  You can rest easy knowing the ones who actually tried to kill you all died pretty quick after.  An’ we got one o’ the ones who ordered it already.”

“You do?”  Sirsk’s brows shoot up again.

“Fellow names Vik.”  She lets go of his hand now, loosely crossing her arms again.  “Works for Hontiresk, just like we suspected.”

“Vik Gredan?”  Sonagh sounds a little surprised himself.

Kesla turns back to him, her brow cocking again.  “You know him?”

“Our paths crossed on a few occasions, can’t say I particularly warmed to the experience.  He’s a common thug with delusions of grandeur.  Can’t say I’m surprised to hear he’s involved.  But you said Hontiresk as well?  Refik Hontiresk?  Of the Authority?”

“You know him?”  Kesla asks that matter-of-fact enough, but I know she’s perking up inside all the same, pricking her ears, so to speak.

“Course I do.  Madame Daste had me look into him more’n once in the past, he’s one o’ the most corrupt nobles still holding office in this city.  Can’t say I’m too surprised it’s him involved.”  He turns to look at Sirsk for a moment, but the official’s already returned to her meal.  “Aye … what’d you want to know, then?”

Kesla frowns deep, thoughtful for a long moment, and her eyes flicker across the table as a whole.  It lingers on me for a beat, almost as though she’s a little surprised to see me up and about instead of in bed getting some much needed rest.  I mean sure, I do need it, but still, I don’t wanna let her know that, so I just stare right back, daring her to speak up about it.

Instead she just turns to Yeslee for a moment, leaning in close to whisper something to her, and the Fir Bolg’s eyes narrow for a moment as she turns to her before hissing something back I can’t catch.  She almost looks annoyed as she turns on the spot and slopes off back the way they just came.

Then she gives Sonagh a soft, friendly pat on the shoulder and gestures to the table.  “Sit.  Please.  No sense interrupting your meal, we can talk while you’re at it.”

Nodding, the grizzled orc steps away from her and returns to his seat, and after a beat she follows, planting herself at an angle facing towards him in one of the remaining empty chairs and immediately sitting back, folding her arms loose and casual.  Getting comfortable for the conversation.

When I turn to Du I find he’s looking out where Yeslee disappeared, seeming a little disappointed.  I remember they were just starting to get reacquainted when Sirsk and Sonagh first turned up with the kids in tow, making her duck off in the first place.  Finally he frowns down at the empty chair beside him, which he’s been holding for her since, and I have to stop myself from chuckling as I turn back to my food, picking the sandwich up again and taking another bite.

Art plants himself in the empty chair next to me, settling back with his paws immediately folding together in his lap, the slightest frown on his face now.  He’s not looking at anyone in particular, and I realise that he don’t just seem distracted now, but particularly subdued.  I know he’s been watching over Darwyn since they got back from their chaotic rescue on the Hill, but this doesn’t ain’t the fretful worry I would’ve expected after that.   It’s more like he’s pondering something, some deep new revelation that’s got him proper vexed.

“So how sure are you it’s him?”  Sonagh ventures after a moment.

Kesla chuckles.  “Oh, ‘bout as sure as we can get.  Vik fingered him well enough.  He’s using a go-between, but his fingerprints are still all over this.”

“Which one?”

“Fellow named Jammund.”

That makes him frown, pausing before he bites the freshly cut chunk of sausage off his fork.  “Orric Jammund … yeah, sounds about right.  That old pirate’s perfect for this.”

“He insists he ain’t one.”  I mutter through my final mouthful of sandwich, wiping my hands on my britches.  “Was real particular about it actually, I remember.”  I give Kesla a pointed look, and she returns a subtle nod of clear recollection.

“You talked with him?”  Sonagh seems almost surprised by that.

“Briefly.”  Kesla shrugs.  “We went down to that tavern of his, on the docks, a few days back.  Mostly just to have a look, scout things out.  We weren’t really ready for a fight.”

I snort at that, really can’t help it.  She grins a little too at the memory.

“Well yeah … maybe we did cause a little bit of a ruckus.  But they started it.”  She gives her shoulders a little roll, and there’s the subtlest tightening in her jaw while she does it, like her back’s giving her a little gyp.  I heard she took a little bit of a tumble last night, makes me wonder if maybe it’s messed with what she’d still been recovering from.  Means she might not be in such great shape right now, even after the healers worked their magic on her.

“Jammund’s being over charitable with his own history, I promise you.”  Sonagh growls  “He’s got himself a pretty dark past, even before the Occupation.  ‘Least half the money he bought the Late Bone with was drenched in blood from throats him an’ his cut making their fortune.  He pretends he was a simple seaman, but that’s a smokescreen he’s long been tending to make himself seem above board.”

“Well it’s clear enough to us he ain’t no saint, not with the company he keeps.”  Kesla’s frowning again now, working her mouth a little bitter.  “He’s in league with … something real nasty.  Woman named Vandryss, from up north.”

“A Terror?”  There’s a dark note in Sonagh’s voice now that speaks to his veteran’s lingering dislike for his former enemy.

“Worse.  She’s … well, we ain’t sure, but we suspect she’s in league with some genuine dark forces.  Something fell.  She’s likely something pretty monstrous herself.  I can vouch for that through personal experience.”

The table falls quiet again for a little while as this sinks in, and Sonagh’s put his cutlery down again, sitting back some as he mulls that idea over.  I wonder if the possibilities that suggests have killed his appetite.

In the meantime I see Dumoli sit up a little through the corner o’ my eye, and when I look to him again his eyes are turned back towards the entrance again.  Following his gaze now, I see Yeslee’s coming back now, and this time she’s got Shul with her, the half-hob fully dressed in her Order raiments again and moving with her usual workmanlike determination.  When I turn back I find Kesla’s looking their way too now, loosening her arms as she sits up again.

“Good morning, Mistress Shoon.”  The wizard gives her a surprisingly cool nod now as she stops a little short of the table while Yeslee returns to her own seat.  “How can I help you?”

Something about her tone tells me she’s definitely in a bad mood with the big woman now, which surprises me.  I wonder what that’s about.  Kesla simply looks up at her with a perfectly calm expression, as if she’s done no wrong.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.  I was hoping maybe you could make some arrangements for Master Sonagh here, and his children.  Set up a couple o’ rooms for ‘em, maybe send one o’ your attendants over to the temple o’ Brigid, pick up anything they might’ve left there they’d be needing to get comfortable?”

Sonagh’s frown gets deeper at that.  “I don’t understand …”

“Things are a bit … crazy right now, I reckon.  Best if you were all over here with us for the foreseeable, be easier for us to watch out for you while we’re here.”  Kesla sighs, giving him a surprisingly firm look.  “Honestly, it’d just make me feel a whole lot better about this whole mess, if you don’t mind?”

He’s a long beat answering, but when I look at them the twins have stopped eating and are both watching him closely.  Honestly, I would’ve expected them both to start complaining immediately about being asked to uproot themselves yet again, but I guess they’re both old enough now to understand this is serious business.  Finally their da nods, although his sigh’s deep and more’n a little weary.  “Aye, reckon you got a point there.  Fine by me.”

Nodding, Kesla turns back to Shul.  “Good.  Um … yeah, you all right with that?  I mean … I don’t mean to impose, but –”

“No, it’s fine.”  the wizard sighs, looking down now.  “Your reasoning is sound, and Master Saxiros has made it abundantly clear that the temple’s resources are to be made fully available to you in this venture, so you’re well within your bounds to ask.  I’ll make the due arrangements immediately.  Is there anything else you need in the meantime?”

“Yeah …”  Sonagh falters as he seems to surprise himself a little by speaking.  “Um … I’m sorry.  Just … yeah, hope I ain’t imposing by asking, but any chance maybe you could get a message to my tavern too?  The Rare Lady.”

Blinking, Shul’s expression changes considerably when she looks him over, becoming a good deal more open and inviting now.  “Oh no, it’s no imposition at all.  I imagine it’s only prudent.  May I ask to whom you wish to speak?”

“My man Dow, he’ll be running the place while I’m gone.  Just ask him to go in my trunk upstairs, bring me the sword and dagger he finds in there.  Anything else I need I can talk to him about when he’s here.”

She frowns just a little at that, but nods all the same.  “Of course.  I’ll get right on it, then.”  She turns and gives Kesla a particularly pointed look, then turns on the spot and stalks out without breaking stride.

Turning to her now, I clear my throat.  “What’s up with her, then?”

Kesla smiles now, but it’s somewhat rueful.  “I suspect she finally found out about what I did to Vik once it got quiet round here again.  She won’t be too happy with me about that.”

Not quite getting what she means, I look to Art, who blinks, seeming almost surprised by being queried now, but at least it snaps him out of whatever trance he was in.  “Oh, she beat the fuck out of ‘im after we got back from the Heath.  Wanted to know about those mercs we ran into out there, but he didn’t know anything about ‘em.”

“Oh, right.”  I nod, frowning a little more at the thought of ‘em, and that half-hob cleric in particular.  My hand goes to the still sore spot just below my chest entirely on its own, the memory of her running me right through giving me an unbidden twinge.  “Yeah, them …”

“Who’s this?”  Sonagh turns to Kesla again, a curious look on his face now.

“Turns out Vandryss brought in some sellswords to try and take us out.  They came uncomfortably close, too.  Serious bunch, proper pros.  One o’ the reasons I’m being so cautious about this business right now.”

An interesting look crosses Sonagh’s face at that, and his frowns deepens even more.  He growls under his breath for a moment, pondering, then look up again.  “What can you tell me about ‘em?”

Frowning too, Kesla watches him for a thoughtful beat of her own before answering.  “Seemed like a pretty exotic bunch, they had an imori with ‘em, apparently, and an armoured ogre, like from back in the War.  A halfling archer, and a half-hob cleric, ‘parently she was a servant of Corvina.”  Her eyes flicker to me for a moment as I wince again involuntarily at the memory, and give that spot another little rub.  “A hedge wizard, and a half-orc fighter.  Leader was a dragonhalf.  A red one, real skilled one with a sword.  Scary good, in fact.”

“Reckon they might’ve been from Abharet.”  I venture.  “The cleric sounded like she was from my neck o’ the woods, and the imori suggests the others might be too.”

Shaking her head, Kesla sits forward now, folding her arms again on the table top as she leans into ‘em.  “Their leader weren’t.  Way she talked, sounded like she’s from Tabaphic.  Highborn, too.”

Sonagh nods now, letting another heavy sigh go as he sits back the rest of the way into his chair and folds his arms too.  “I think I know who that is.  Not the rest o’ the mercs, but their leader definitely rings a bell.  And it won’t have been this Vandryss who hired ‘em.  That’ll have been Hontiresk himself.”

“Really?”  Kesla’s watching him like a hawk now, her stare genuinely intense.  It’s the look of a hunter zeroing in on her prey.  “By all means, please.  Do tell.”

Again he pauses for a moment, looking her over again before answering, seeming to order his thoughts now.  “Most likely, that’ll be a sellsword assassin name of Dramrath Mallys.  Don’t know much about where she came from originally, but I know she was tied up with Hontiresk’s father for a fair few years, before the Invasion.  He was as bad as his son, but a good deal more cowardly, didn’t like to get his hands dirty at all so any nasty work needed taking care of he’d farm it out to this Mallys and she’d either take care of it herself or find someone better suited for it.  From what I can tell, a fair number o’ the bodies found floating in the harbour back then were her own handiwork.”

“Charming.”  Lady Naru hisses, sounding duly offended.

“Then the Occupation came and Hontiresk’s father fell down a very tall flight of stairs.  The consensus among many of his detractors is that he pushed the old man himself, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.  He may seem similarly weak and callow, but it’s a clever disguise.�� Refik Hontirestk’s got a lot more steel in his spine than his da.”  Sonagh clears his throat as he sits up again, reaching out now to pick up his cutlery again.  Seems his appetite returning with the turn of the conversation.  “Far as I can tell, Mallys left the city in the early days o’ the Invasion, shipped south with the rest o’ the refugees.  Given what you just told me, if it is her she’s clearly been plying her trade in Abharet since, and built up a party similar to your own while she’s been at it.  Imagine if Hontiresk wanted to bring someone serious in to rub you out he’ll definitely have remembered his da’s pet killer.”

“So d’you know that much about her?”  Kesla wonders now, still watching him close.

“I never ran into her myself, but I heard things about her in the days before the Invasion.  Enough to piece together a reputation, at least.  I don’t know about Tabaphic, but you thinking she’s highborn seems to track, I heard she got airs about her.  Must’ve been trained as a would-be knight, from what I heard ‘bout her skill.  You’re right, she’s proper lethal with a blade.  You might be Edhril Shoon’s daughter, but if you did cross swords with her you’re lucky to be alive after.  I suspect the rest of her crew should be similar high calibre to be working with her.”

Kesla nods again, looking down at the table as she starts to ponder again.  Likely considering her enemy now, since she’s finally got a name to go with the face.

While she’s at it, the mood round the table seems to fluctuate, pensive at first as these latest revelations circulate, but soon enough spirits seem to lift as those who still have food in front of us dig back in and start to polish off what we got left.  More casual conversations start to strike up soon enough, particularly Du and Yeslee, clustered close together now in their corner and whispering low, thick as thieves.  Tebb and Taga, meanwhile, are sniping good-naturedly at one another again, their particularly boisterous banter carrying the most about the room.

Finally Kesla sits up again and turns to me, thoughtful again as she looks me over, but particularly critical in her regard this time.  “So how’re you holding up?”

That makes me frown again, and as I set my knife and fork aside, picking up a piece of bread so I can start mopping the grease, gravy and syrup from the now empty crockery, I match her regard sharp as I can.  “Well enough, considering I was practically dead two nights back.  The healers’ve done a decent enough job.  Doubt I’ll be much good with an axe for another day, but I can move round well enough.”

She considers that for a long moment, and I suspect she’s working out whether or not she really believes me.  I ain’t that confident in the bluff there, I feel like if I really had to move with any real speed right now I’d likely fold and then empty my stomach right on the floor.  It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking right now.

In the end she just nods, pushing her chair back before sitting up.  “Well, we’ll see if a bluff’ll do, then.  I doubt there’ll be any need for an actual fight in what I plan on doing next.  In fact, might be better if we didn’t get into one.”

Sirsk is watching her with a more complex look now, not so much confusion as concern, maybe.  “I’m sorry, what … what do you intend to –”

“I wanna go talk to this Hontiresk.”  Kesla looks like she’s pretty much done with this conversation already and wants to get up and go.  “Soon as possible.  Look him in the eyes and ask him some questions.”

Lady Naru’s watching her closely now too, frowning deep.  Sirsk’s eyes have widened considerably once the impact of what Kesla’s implying sinks in, while Sonagh’s barely seems so have changed at all, just the slightest narrowing to his eyes saying he’s reacting at all.

“You can’t be serious.”  Sirsk breathes after a moment.

“I agree,”  Lady Naru nods, her brow creasing tighter.  “With all that’s been going on, I cannot condone this course of action.  Vandryss will surely –”

Sonagh runs right over her, to her surprise as much as the rest of us who’re actually following this conversation.  “I dunno, unless she’s a total mad dog I don’t see her doing anything so stupid overt right in front of her boss, or whatever he is to her.  I mean you’re the ones who know her, but … from what I know of what’s gone on this is a pretty smart, secret operation.  If Vandryss is the mastermind here than she’s gonna be cool enough not to just jump on you at the slightest provocation.”

“But he’s an Authority official.”  Sirsk looks to be on the verge of panic, but holding onto themselves by their nails even so.  “A very senior one.  Mistress Shoon, please … propriety alone –”

“Reckon we’re beyond that right now.”  Kesla shrugs.  “Besides, I ain’t gonna be going in threatening, this is gonna be peaceful.  I just wanna talk.”

I shoot a look at Art, who’s been pretty silent all through this new turn, just frowning after her.  He picks up on my scrutiny now though, and returns a sharp look.  Not sure what to read into that.  But I’m convinced she’s got an ulterior motive here.

“I’ll come with you then.”  Sonagh interjects after a beat.  “If you don’t mind waiting on Dow.”

Again all eyes shoot to Kesla, and his kids are included this time, their own banter cut dead as they must pick up on his mood.  She just considers him for a beat.  “You sure ‘bout that?  I can’t guarantee your safety out there, not now.  You’re still a target, after all.”

“Won’t be much different from any other day I been working with Daste.  And I owe her.”

That makes Sirsk look down, their face reddening more as they grow awkward.

“Fair enough.  Long as you’re careful, you’re welcome.”  Kesla turns to me again, that same cool scrutiny in her eyes.  “How ‘bout it, Thel?  Wanna get back in the game?”

Mulling it over for a few moments, I look to Du now, finding him still deep in his whispered conversation with Yeslee.  Brung’s watching me close, though.  Wanting to back me up, no doubt.  Honestly, given what we’re gonna do I can’t be sure it’s actually a smart move.  “Yeah, sure.  Like I said, can’t promise I’ll be any good if anything happens, but …”

“Yeah, well as I said, I’m banking on it not happening.”  Kesla pushes her chair back a little more, readying herself to stand, I’m sure.

“You want me to come too?”  Art offers up before she can start pushing herself up.  “Just in case?”

“Not you, no.”  She turns to Shay, who’s opening her own mouth now, looking ready to offer up her own help too.  “Nor you.  I want you both to stay with the others.  I got other plans for all o’ you.”

That gets her frowning.  “What plans?”

The subtlest shadow of a grin crosses her lips, dark and more’n a little dangerous, as she pushes herself upright.  “I want you to go to the Late Bone.  Take Yes, Big Man, Dumoli, Brung, Zuldrad and Lady Naru with you.  Go in fast and hard.  Clean the place out.  If our friends are there, great, but I doubt they will be.  I just want you to work a nice fat splinter under Jammund’s thumbnail while his boss is distracted with me.”

“Me?”  Lady Naru frowns up at her.  “But surely, if you are going to speak with Hontiresk, then you would need me to –”

“No, definitely not.  I don’t want you involved in that.  Daste was real particular about not letting your part in our investigation get out in an official capacity, and I’m gonna stick to that.  I’m taking Tulen instead.  Mostly on the off-chance we do need magic, but also I wanna drum into him that the Order’s got a stake in what’s going on.”  She turns to Sonagh again.  “You both got time to finish here ‘fore I need ready.  I got some preparation to do anyway.”

“Like what?”  I wonder, surprising myself a little by speaking out loud.

“Like I gotta get my spare Jack outta the Bag o’ Holding.”  She looks down the table now.  “Yes!”

The Fir Bolg’s ears actually twitch at the call, and her attention snaps up immediately.  “What’s up?”

“Can I borrow you for a few?”

Frowning a little, Yeslee shoots a look to Dumoli, who returns her look with clear frustration at their catch-up being cut short again, and I have to fight another urge to tip him a smug grin.  Pushing away from the table, she simply gives him a cool shrug and pushes her near empty platter towards him, clearly offering up what’s left of her own food, before stepping away to join her friend.

As the two women head out the room again, I turn back to look over the rest of the table, where the mood’s clearly turned a little more fractious.  Finally I look to Art again.  “Okay, so what am I actually doing, then?”

He just shrugs.  “Reckon she’ll let you know ‘fore you head out.  Might wanna finish up while you can.”  He flicks his look down at what’s left of my own breakfast.

Starting to mop up the leftover juices with the bread, I suck down a wary breath and mull for a beat as I go over this development in my head.  How likely is it this won’t turn out to be trouble after all?  I’m tempted to break my armour out after all, just in case …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #the creeping bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 4 chapter 10 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

[sakurachan7734]

Aristotle‘s aventures 

Rewrite

Chapter 9: final destination

(this is the last chapter)

Aristotle: do you want to tell the entire story or just some of it?

Charlie: the whole thing I want to hear it

Aristotle: alright so I lived in Paris until I was 11 in June we moved to Wales and that’s where my sister was born and where I was murdered

Zachary: do you know who killed you? 

Aristotle: all I remember is that my killer was a lady

Jackson: was your sister born the same day you were murdered? 

Aristotle: yes she was I was getting something to drink then I saw the egg cracking and I saw a little yellow eye and I got my parents 

Zachary: how did your mom bring you back to life?

Aristotle: she perform surgery on my brain and stuff and re-wired everything so I’d be alive  after living in Wales for about a year I believe we went to the Philippines by boat 

Jackson: how is that like? 

Aristotle: it was fine nothing too exciting after I believe about three years there we went to Canada by train

Charlie: what was that like? Was it really cold?

Aristotle: yes it was and a lot of maple syrup 

Jackson: did you play in the snow?

Aristotle: yea with my sister it was really fun

Zachary: where did you move to next?

Aristotle: Florida I f***ing hated that place 

Charlie: why?

Aristotle: well me and my family lived in a roof of a church we went to for a few months and once we got a house there was this really crazy couple next-door that would constantly lecture my parents about being gay and “ that were not true Christians” and was constantly get my pronouns wrong on purpose, the wife told my dad to hide all the pans away from me the second she knew I was pansexual

Zachary:* chuckling* that’s funny

Aristotle: yea it’s definitely more funny than annoying the more I’m thinking about it 

Jackson: how long did you live there?

Aristotle: two years and when we moved again, it was unexpected apparently the guys after us brought into the house my mom told me and my sister be hard to go as far as possible so we packed up everything we could and ran off to the woods where we lived for about three months me and my sister almost died

Zachary: how?

Aristotle: I got really really sick and my sister started freezing then after my parents found us we moved here 

Charlie: do you think you’re gonna be staying here? 

Aristotle: I hope so since I finally meet some friends on my journey and the guys following us haven’t been after us for a while 

Zachary: that’s good which place did you like the most? 

Aristotle: I liked Canada a lot 

Charlie: how was Paris? 

Aristotle: it was really pretty but it was nothing like the movies kind of boring to be honest

Jackson: did you make your robes yourself?

Aristotle: yes I did I thought the robes I originally had were too boring. 

Zachary: did you get hurt on your journey? Besides, getting murdered? 

Aristotle: well while me and my sister were running to find the campsite the people chasing after us shot at my leges and my sister got attacked by a wild animal 

Charlie: how did you get food?

Aristotle: I went out and killed a bunch of animals and found non-poisonous berries my little sister had to break in peoples houses to get like Pans and stuff

Jackson: did she succeed in any of them? 

Aristotle: the first few times she didn’t but she got used to it and knew how to sneak around 

Charlie: how did your parents find you?

Aristotle: I don’t know I guess we just got lucky we didn’t die 

Zachary: if you guys are going to move again where to? 

Aristotle: probably Greenland or somewhere really far away 

Jackson: will we have a way to talk to each other?

Aristotle: I will call or write you guys letters 

Charlie: good

Zachary: what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done or seen on your adventures?

Aristotle: oh like a week after I was murdered, we had to do a fake funeral i really don’t know why my parents had to do that but after that, I was never let out of the house until we moved

Jackson: that’s crazy

Aristotle: yea definitely

A few hours pass Aristotle tells everybody the stories of their adventures

Aristotle: well, I have to leave now everybody 

Jackson: see you later!

Zachary: bye!

Charlie: bye



#scp foundation #scp #scp containment breach #scp fan child

[twenytwenytwo]

Nov 22 2022 (5:30pm)

Got home from work, went for a walk. I’m sitting on the bench next to the entrance to Planta park. It’s refreshing out, cold but not that cold.

Thinking about myself while walking. A strong theme in my life so far has been adventure. Cliche, perhaps, but true. So many times, the call to adventure has filled me with vigour. When something seems crazy almost, or like something that somebody would tell you it’s too hard, or this or that, I would light up. Hitch-hiking, the bus stage, etc.

I remember pursuing music was like that early on. People would be generally dismissive about it, and that seriously gave me so much energy. It made me so happy about pursuing it, and made me want it more. It made me so incredibly determined and motivated. It was an amazing feeling from my perspective now, and I’m glad that I followed it so passionately.

Anyway, my point was that this adventure seeking nature in me is one of my more powerful and core attributes. It really does define me in so many ways. If it’s not some sort of adventure… I just don’t care about it that much. And this truth here is, I’d say, the operative force in my current struggle.

Because getting a good job isn’t very adventurous, in that it doesn’t challenge… what is an adventure?

1. What is an adventure?

2. Why is my vigour not available to things that do not register as an “adventure”?

This, for now, is confusing.

Something that is becoming less confusing is that my ideal is becoming more complex. That is to say, it used to be become a musical success, and the rest will work itself out (home, finances, relationships). What’s changed is that the rest is feeling like “okay, we’ve let you have your fun, now we want to be taken seriously”.

These important things, home, finances, relationships, were not part of the goal, but I felt as if the goal would somehow make them not a problem. I did not give them energy, I put them on pause. Perhaps that’s another contributing factor to my recent wallop from life.

Basically, now these things need to be directly attended to. They no longer trust that attaining musical success is going to magically put them in good order and give them what they need. Putting all my eggs in the music biz seems like complete retardation to me now.

I can feel that the new emerging ideal is more multi-branched, like a collection of successes. I still want to be musically glorious and to stand tall as an example of an artist. I also want to live a well rounded life, and I have observed that my musical ambition has the potential to cut me off from other good things in life. I want to have the same degree of comfort I have now, but as a consequence of my own efforts.

My role models have been rock stars, people who appear to have nothing else going on in their lives, and appear to not really need anything else in their lives. Think of Hendrix, Morrison, others. These individuals (to me) are just rockstars. To me, they are (concerningly) simple, and no real person is that simple, that single-faceted. This is what I’ve accidentally aspired to become. To become an incomplete picture, a mask, a character. The problem is moreso becoming that in relationship to myself, to be clear.

So this new ideal forming is having troubles because there’s no rockstar (or other sensational character) to model it from. There are however other people, such as Jordan Peterson, for example. He is incredibly intelligent, well read, articulate, and contributes to the world in a substantially good way. He is a model of part of what I want to be. I think I like him b/c he sort of represents a Shaman or Hero archetype, which is why I was drawn toward rockstars. They deliver a message from the gods.

I suppose that is part of what attracts me to adventure. There’s something divine to extracted and shared. A jewel of heavenly origin.

… sleepy, it’s 10 now…

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Nobody had noticed Agni and Nina had stayed back at the cabin once everyone had left. The two were locked in a heated discussion about a certain secret Nina knew she couldn’t keep much longer.

“She’s into Sebastian Agni and there too many risks!”

“Nina! Just tell them you’re gay as hell and into Meyrin it isn’t that hard! I came out to Sebastian last year and we’re still cool.”

“See! You’ve only come out to one person too!”

“Nope. A bunch. My family, my best friends, and my best mate’s younger friend Ciel.”

“Ugh?”

Nina threw herself onto the couch of the front room.

“I have to don’t I?”

“If this blackmail you and Hannah have got on each other is as bad as you’re making it seem, than I’d go ahead and tell people whenever you get the chance.”

Back in the mess hall, Ciel sat awkwardly across from Sieglinde and Lizzie, unsure of what to say.

“We need to talk about last night Ciel.”

Sieglinde finally spoke up and Ciel inhaled sharply,

“Sieglinde... I was out of my mind last night. You’re extremely beautiful and smart and spunky, but I just don’t know what we can be at this point in my life . I’m sorry.”

Sieglinde felt her stomach jump into her ear. Ciel had said what she feared the most. That everything was due to the alcohol. She’d been proved once again that she may be unloveable and that she falls too hard too fast, even though she tries so hard not to.

“Um... yeah I feel them same ok... I’m gonna go now, I think I should leave. Well Lizzie, I’ll see you later then.

Sieglinde felt betrayed even though she knew from the start deep down that it probably wouldn’t mean anything. She got up and slammed her did tray into the trash, and once she got outside she ran, she ran until she reached her cabin, and she hid from the humiliation as best as she could.

“Way to go, loverboy”

Doll glared at Ciel.

“Oh don’t look at me like that! I met her last night in a drunken haze and we committed a felony together this isn’t a quirky coming of age movie,

Doll it’s my life!”

“Sully is the nicest person I’ve ever met and honestly drunk or sober you two would’ve made a great couple.”

“What are going on about?”

“Ciel, Sully isn’t a party girl, she’s a bookworm with a big heart that loves adventure.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and she saw something in you that screamed adventure, that screamed good. You’re lucky because I don’t think I’ve ever seen that in you before.”

“And I just screwed it up... just like I screw up everything?”

“You don’t screw up everything, but you may have screwed that up.”

“Fan- f’in- tastic!”

Ciel put in head his hands and rubbed his temples.

“Um... bird for brains?”

“Yes doll?”

“You still have that bonfire tonight. Get joker to bring his guitar and I’ll see if he can play some sappy romantic music, apologize, and tell Sully you were wrong and wanna see her again.”

“Wow you make it sound so easy! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Oh wow! I didn’t know I ordered sarcasm with my eggs this morning!”

Chapter 7: A/N #2

Summary:

• not a chapter of “no more happy campers”

Chapter Text

Hello! First off I’d just like to say thank you for reading my slightly cheesy series thus far, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it so thank you for visiting and leaving kudos for me :)

I haven’t been writing and posting for very long so I promise my writing will get better over time.

I have two announcements!

1. I may slow down on how fast I write chapter updates, I am a student, and I have a busy life but I promise to try to add updates as much as I possibly can. I just may need a little more time :)

2. I have a new series! If you ever get bored or sick of the high school partying and lifetime movie sequel drama of this fic, You can read my series featuring my OC Maryann and her adventures with the kuro characters in their actual time period.

Notes:

• I don’t not own kuroshitsuji not am I affiliated with it .

Happy Birthday, Bocchan

noemiluisa

Summary:

It's Ciel's birthday.

I do not own Kuroshitsuji nor its characters.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

‘Happy birthday, Ciel!’ a colourful crowd shouted at him as he and his dark butler had just entered the mansion. He stretched a fake smile towards the people in front of him. Damn pests invading his house. To his dismay the manor had been redecorated so that now it looked like some damn kid’s wonderland. Pink and blue ribbons adorned the walls while paper strands of different colours were spread all around. There was even a table with food and drinks on it, although it probably wasn’t safe to eat since it must have been cooked by his actual cook rather than Sebastian. Speaking of whom, why the hell hadn’t Sebastian warned him? And more importantly, why had he not stopped them?

Ciel glanced at the impeccable butler who was already attending the party, pouring glasses of a dark liquid to the guests. He got nearer to where he was standing, intent on scolding him. However, someone grabbed hold of him before he could reach his final destination. ‘Ciel!’

He half turned, his eyes softening to meet Lizzie’s. ‘I am glad to see you, Lizzie’.

‘Oh Ciel, I was so happy when Sebastian told me that we were going to organise this surprise party for you, I can’t contain myself!’ she giggled, clearly overly excited.

‘Oh did he now?’ one of Ciel’s eyebrows rose, the child was not pleased. No, he was absolutely displeased by his butler’s behaviour.

Lady Elizabeth retreated a bit, noticing his dark aura. ‘Ciel…let’s dance, Ciel! It’s your party after all’.

As if shaming myself in front of all these people is going to make it any better. Ciel thought. Who is here anyway? ‘Maybe later, sorry,’ he said to a disappointed Lizzie, who strangely didn’t object, perhaps she wanted to make this evening special for him.

Shrugging his shoulder he looked around surveying the area. His servants were standing in a corner, he could clearly see Tanaka joyfully laughing while holding his ever-present cup of tea. The young Finnian wore a light blue suit which complimented his reddish blonde hair and fair eyes, he looked fairly embarrassed though and it was clear he was searching for an excuse to leave the room, just like Ciel.

Mey-Rin was standing next to him, her maid’s dress had disappeared though and she was wearing an elegant long dress which left her right shoulder uncovered as well as part of her back. However, she kept adjusting her skewed glasses ruining the sophisticated look that the dress gave to her figure. She seemed to be immersed in an interesting conversation with Bard, who was instead wearing his cook’s clothes. ‘And yes, I made a special treat for our Lord…trust me he will love it,’ Ciel, who in the meanwhile had gotten closer, overheard him say. Dread filled his heart as he took in the cook’s words, what else did he need to put up with?

‘Ciel, my friend!’ prince Soma caught him in a hug before Ciel could step back enough. ‘My Prince, please, don’t strangle the poor earl,’ he heard Agni’s voice from behind. ‘Happy Birthday,’ the man said to Ciel bowing in his direction. When the spirited prince finally released Ciel, Lau came closer, a trail of smoke following him. ‘Happy Birthday, Earl. I hope your business is going well’.

‘Thank you, everything would be more than fine if all of you just left right now…I mean, if I could call it an early night since I have had a stressful day’.

‘Is that so? But your butler said you’d have enjoyed our company since you think too much about work as of late’.

‘Ciel!’ cried Soma, ‘Don’t say such mean things to your friends. I want to have fun with you, I have missed you so much…’ he hugged the earl again, but this time Ciel managed to push him back without too much effort, he was getting sick of all this hugs. Actually, he was sick of the whole situation before it all even started.

‘Shall I propose a game to play then?’ his butler’s voice came from behind, making Ciel jolt. He turned towards him, deadly eyes glaring at the demon. Sebastian expressionless face didn’t betray any thoughts, but internally he was belated by the effect his little plan was having on his master. This was going to be an interesting evening, for sure.

‘What kind of game do you suggest?’ Ciel coldly asked.

‘One where everyone in here can get involved, my Lord,’ the demon smiled at him.

‘Will you be more clear, Sebastian?’ Ciel was already getting angry.

‘But of course my Lord, if you will allow me, let’s all take a seat…’ everybody sat on the chairs in a circle, Lady Elizabeth standing to the side of her beloved Ciel. Sebastian arrived a few seconds later, holding pieces of paper.

‘Now then I shall explain. Each one of us draws a piece of paper, there’s one detective and one murderer. The detective has to catch the murderer who in turns kills people by winking at them. All the while, we are to chat normally while people die around us’.

‘Oh, that sounds interesting,’ exclaimed Bard.

‘True, let’s play!’ said Soma. ‘I want to be the detective’.

‘Prince Soma, the butler has just explained the rules, you have to pick a piece of paper’.

‘Ah…ok’ and so the Indian prince grabbed a slice of paper, looked at it and frowning sat back onto his chair.

‘Please, refrain from revealing your identities,’ added the butler.

Everyone then picked up a piece of paper and after committing to memory their roles they all started conversing with the people around them. The first to die was Lau, who was standing next to an enchanted Mey-Rin and Agni. ‘Oh well, I suppose I am out,’ was his comment before he rose and went to fetch himself a glass.

‘It must’ve been one of the people close to him, so either Agni or Mey-Rin,’ commented Elizabeth.

Ciel scoffed, ‘The murderer wouldn’t risk his position that easily, if he was going to hit, he wouldn’t go for the people closest to him given that those are the easiest to catch’. He glanced at Sebastian who was seated behind Mey-Rin as he said so.

‘Oh’. The girl stared at him with her mouth open.

‘You surely are an expert at this, young Earl,’ commented Lau.

‘I merely like to play this kind of games a lot,’ the child innocently replied.

A crash on his left attracted his attention. Tanaka’s eyes rolled into his head as the tea dirtied the floor directly below his chair, his cup broken into pieces. It all seemed as if he had been poisoned. Ciel got up but Sebastian intervened first.

‘Here, let me clear this my Lord. And worry not, part of the game states that the victims must act out their deaths quite dramatically, I forgot to mention’.

‘I see. It’s a pity I couldn’t catch who the murderer was because I was distracted talking, but at least I know it’s not Lizzie’.

The butler cleared the floor quickly while Tanaka fell asleep and the game resumed shortly after. Again, Ciel was distracted in another conversion with Soma this time when Mey-Rin fainted, her face flushed red and her faked death not very much believable. Now, who would make Mey-Rin blush so much… Ciel’s eyes wondered back on his servant. ‘Do you think it was Bard, Ciel?’ asked Lizzie.

‘What?’ Ciel snapped back to reality.

‘You said that it probably wasn’t someone near her…’

‘At this point it could have as well been, that’s the third death, we have no way to tell. I have a feeling that the murderer is watching over us’.

Lady Elizabeth shivered, an insensate fear wrapping her body. ‘Worry not my dear Lady, for I prince Soma, will protect any girl at disadvantage and promote happiness for all…’ he was interrupted in his speech by Agni’s hand grabbing at his vest, ‘Prince Soma…I…am sorry, I think you will have to continue your journey through life without me from now on’. He was holding is chest with the other hand and his face was pained.

‘Noo! What are you saying my proud warrior, my best man…I cannot live without you by my side. Don’t die, please, someone do something!’ Soma shouted.

‘But my Prince, the murderer got me, he has winked and thus my fate is marked’.

Soma sobbed over the shoulder of his dying servant, ‘I will never forget you and your services…I hope I will soon follow you’. And in a matter of seconds he too was dead. There were only five people left and one of them was Sebastian. Ciel stared intensely at him, he didn’t want to miss a single movement of the “man”. ‘Ciel, I’ve got it. It must be Bard…look at how he is agitated now, I'm sure he will kill Sebastian next’. Ciel was forced to turn around by his fiancée who was pointing her finger towards Bard. She got up, her voice shaking ‘I accuse you, cook of the manor, of being the one murdering the people in this room’.

‘Lizzie what are you doing? He is not…’ Ciel started.

‘I am innocent Miss’. The cook said before exhaling his last breath.

Miss Elizabeth’s brows furrowed at this and she looked around the room, her eyes scanning Finnian, Ciel and Sebastian. One of them was the murderer but who?

‘May I suggest you sit down, my Lady?’ said Sebastian with a smile.

‘A-ah yes’. She sat on her chair her eyes on Finny while the gardener’s scared gaze kept jumping from one person to the other, sure that it was his time now. And indeed he was next to die, with a scream nonetheless. ‘S-sorry,’ he uttered before closing his eyes. Both Ciel and Lizzie stared at Sebastian now.

‘Sebastian, are you the murderer?’

‘Why, my Lady, took you quite some time to figure it out,’ he winked at her making her blush.

‘Pff, what a boring game,’ Ciel crossed his legs. ‘I could sense from the beginning that you were killing people around, Sebastian’.

‘My, my you are being rather self-confident tonight’ the butler commented. Mey-Rin adjusted her glasses again behind him and Bard took some sweets to share with Finny.

‘I have reasons to believe that, had I been the detective, more than a half of people would have survived’.

‘Why don’t you try being the detective then?’ Sebastian winked in his direction making Ciel’s heart skip a beat ‘Since you are our special guest tonight, my Lord, it would be fitting for you to be the main actor in this game. Though, it might be more interesting to switch game…it is a guessing game, I am thinking of, you will need to leave the room for a bit and then return after a short while. In this time, we will come up with a very simple story which then you’ll need to figure out by asking questions. Is that clear enough?’

Ciel looked at him, unsure if he liked the idea or not. ‘Fine,’ he finally said rising from his seat. ‘I shall allow you to play one turn of this game’. He left the main area where the others were staying and went to pour himself a glass of that dark liquid. As soon as his lips touched it he realised it was alcohol, port probably. Shrugging his shoulders he drank it anyway, thinking he was going to need it for the rest of what seemed to be a long evening.

A few seconds later Sebastian called him back and sitting on his chair he started questioning.

‘Are we in my house?’

There was a choral yes. ‘Mm, is the story about me?’

‘Yes’. Some of them laughed, which caused Ciel to feel irritated.

‘Did you come up with something funny?’

‘More or less…’ said Lau, a smile on his lips.

‘Am I doing something in particular?’

‘Denfintely not,’ said Mey-Rin, adjusting her lenses.

‘Am I alive?’ he asked, glancing at Sebastian.

‘Yes, very much my Lord,’ was Sebastian’s reply.

‘Am I working?’ Ciel was already getting tired.

‘No’.

‘Would I want to be working?’

‘No’.

‘Is there anything I want to do?’

‘Yes’. Lizzie changed her position to better adjust on her seat.

Ciel scratched his head. What would I want to do if I were in my manor, not working? ‘Is it day?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ was the unclear reply.

‘Am I asleep?’

‘No, surely not’.

‘Am I eating a cake?’ he attempted, not expecting a positive answer.

‘Yes, a very big one’. Bard said rising his thumb.

‘And I assume there must be tea…?’

‘Your favourite blend,’ replied Tanaka.

‘So to recap, I am in my house drinking tea and eating cake, while not working. Sounds legitimate, and boring. Sebastian, I thought this would play out more interesting then describing my morning breakfast, or afternoon snack’.

‘My lord, why do you assume the story is ended?’

‘Oh is there more?’ the child asked.

‘Yes’ again they all replied together.

‘I…does something happen while I eat the cake?’

‘Yes’.

‘Is this something related to fire?’ he didn’t know why he had thought of fire, but then again the answer surprised him.

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth shifted in her seat again.

‘Is the fire, say, affecting me?’ It surely must be…

‘It is, oh my god Ciel!’ the young Lady stared at him as if she was seeing his little body wrapped in flames. Sebastian licked his lips. Ciel gulped and went on. ‘Was the fire accidental?’

‘No, sadly not,’ Lau shook his head.

‘Was the fire started by one of my employee?’

‘Yes, dreadful. Such a shame for us!’ said Bard.

Ciel nodded, taking in the information. ‘Was it Sebastian?’

‘My Lord, why would you think so badly of me?’

‘Was it you, Sebastian?’

‘It was not me, you can rest peacefully now,’ the butler bowed before him, hand on his chest.

Ciel’s teeth gritted. ‘Did it happen because of the cake?’

‘Yes, unfortunately’.

‘So, was it Bard?’

The cook looked shocked his Lord would suspect him. ‘Not a chance’.

‘Finnian?’ Ciel turned to the gardener.

‘Not me, for Master Ciel…I would never…’ the boy left the room, overwhelmed by his emotions.

Ciel sighed, ‘Mey-Rin?’

‘N-no…’ she adjusted her glasses again, her face a deep red.

‘Then that leaves you, Tanaka’. The Earl simply stated.

‘Hohoho, young Earl, you surprise me. Yes indeed it was my fault’.

‘Was it because of the tea as well?’

‘No, tea was fine’.

‘Was the cake fine?’

‘Yes’.

So what the hell went wrong? Did he fall asleep? ‘Did you fall asleep, Tanaka?’

‘My old age is to blame for that, my Lord’.

Another sigh from Ciel. ‘Are you involved, Soma?’

‘I am afraid, I am. I'm so sorry Ciel…’ the prince was on the verge of tears.

‘I suppose Agni is too…?’ he looked at the ex-monk.

‘I am, sadly so’.

‘Lau, you couldn’t possibly be involved, could you?’

‘Indeed my little Earl I am,’ said the man wrapped in smoke.

‘I almost expect you too to be in some obscure way involved in this, Lizzie,’ Ciel added.

‘I am, Ciel, but I love you so much…’ she attempted to hug him, without success.

‘So somehow Tanaka manages to start a fire, because he fell asleep and everyone here except for Sebastian, Bard and Finny is involved. Also the main cause is the cake, tea was fine though,’ he said crossing his legs. ‘A very difficult riddle indeed’. His hands where clasped together in front of his face as he spoke so.

‘Sebastian get me a glass of Port, I feel like I need it’.

‘My Lord, you shouldn’t drink at such young age…’

‘It is my birthday today, isn’t it? I might as well do as I wish. Now get me the port. That’s an order,’ he said with authority.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ the butler bowed before moving away.

‘Now then, back to the cake. Was the cake ready when the fire started?’

‘No’.

Then how the hell was I eating the cake…this makes no sense at all. Still he continued, ‘Did Bard make the cake?’

‘Yes’.

‘Then, was Tanaka the one supposed to supervise you?’ he asked directly to Bard.

‘Yes, he was’.

‘But he fell asleep, so…did Mey-Rin help you?’

‘She did,’ Bard confirmed.

‘Bocchan, your Port’.

Ciel grabbed the glass an slowly drank from it, noting how Lau had gotten one for himself. ‘It is unclear to me how you would have gotten involved. Wasn’t Mey-Rin supposed to be doing housework anyway?’

‘You could say so’.

‘Were you doing the laundry?’

‘Not really…’

‘Ironing clothes, perhaps with hot instruments which are unsafe?’ he tried to wrack his brain to find a possible plausible cause, ignoring Sebastian’s annoying smirk.

‘Yes,’ the maid confirmed.

‘Ah…I see’. He sipped the Port adding, ‘Did Bard ask you to hand him the heated tool at any time?’

‘He did,’ Mey-Rin voice was a bit too high as she replied.

What the hell was he going to do with an iron? Iron the cake? ‘Did you iron the cake?’

‘I did,’

‘AHAHAH,’ Soma burst out in a laugh, unable to contain himself. ‘I'm sorry, Ciel, this has become so funny.

‘Indeed,’ the Earl coldly replied. ‘Did you and Agni suggest him this idea?’ it sounds about right.

‘Yup, we did’.

‘Was it because it would have reminded you of some strange curry?’

‘In some ways…’ Agni said with an uncertain look.

‘And Lau,’ Ciel turned his gaze, ‘Did you put something into Tanaka’s tea?’

‘I did, how perspicacious of you Earl,’ the man bowed.

‘Ah-ah. I knew I was close to discovering the truth,’ Ciel said with a triumphant look. ‘Lizzie, did you say that you were involved perhaps because you came to my manor, uninvited, unexpected and rushed to the kitchen causing Bard to get a little too distracted with his work and use the iron to set fire to the cake?’

‘That’s exactly it, Ciel’ she blushed while saying so, a smile hidden behind her hands.

‘Very well. Is there anything more I need to ask?’

‘No, there isn’t’.

Ciel straightened his back, ‘To sum up, I was going to eat cake and tea, when Lau gave Tanaka some sleeping stuff and Tanaka fell asleep, failing to watch over Bard, who was advised by Soma and Agni to use an iron to make my cake. Of course, Mey-Rin thought it would be wise to give him the tools for destruction and furthermore, Lizzie came at the right moment to set my house on fire…very interesting indeed’.

‘Ahahah’ Everyone laughed at this, the Earl excluded. ‘It was all a fake Ciel…’

‘I know it was, it was a story after all,’ Ciel said annoyed.

‘Even the story…there was no story, you made it up,’ replied Lau.

‘What?’ Ciel was confused.

‘Allow me to explain, Bocchan. When you left we decided a simple rule to answer yes or no to questions. Yes was for questions ending in a vowel, no for questions in a consonant and mid-way for a “y”. So you made up the story,’ Sebastian smirked.

The Earl’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Oh,’ was all he said.

‘Ciel, let’s dance,’ he was grabbed by a smiling Lizzie, ‘You promised’.

‘Wait Lizzie…’

It was too late though. A violin had appeared in Sebastian’s hands out of the blue and music was already playing. The Earl was forced to dance, against his will. Swirling around, his head started spinning, also due to Port. After two dances he couldn’t take it anymore and walked over the seating place and slumped himself on a chair. ‘Ciel! You can’t leave me like this’ protested Lady Midford but he was deaf to her dull cries. All he wanted now was to rest.

‘My Lord, if I might suggest, you should open the gifts they gave you’.

At this Ciel jumped up. Gifts? I don’t want any…

‘Yes, let’s see what we got you,’ said Lau.

Everyone gathered around Ciel, including Finnian who had returned to the room. The child felt the impulse to run away and hide from their gazes but resisted and with a straight face went to open the first pack. It was a collection of tea bags, carefully selected and a on a small piece of paper he read “May these bags bring peace to your mind, my Young Lord, as I continue to serve the Phantomhive house, for as long as I live. Tanaka”

Not too bad… he moved on to the next one, Mey-Rin and Finnian’s one apparently. It was a strange wooden sculpture, dressed up in badly knitted clothes. He didn’t even try to seem pleased and they must have seen the frown on his face because Finnian started crying.

Suddenly someone crashed through the window. A swirl of red, a red coat and a scythe. A reaper was in his house. Somebody screamed behind him as a wide grin spread on the newly arrived guest. Sebastian’s eyes glowed, a silent warning for the death god. ‘Sebby-chan. How stunning you look in that outfit!’

‘This is my normal outfit, Grell. May I enquire as to why didn’t you enter the room from the main door?’

‘But then, where would have the scenic appearance gone to?’ As Grell winked at him, Finnian ran away, fear written all over his face. ‘Oh, did I do something wrong?’ the reaper said.

‘Nothing you should concern yourself with,’ replied Ciel. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To wish you well and to see my Sebastian of course’.

Sebastian turned away, his face showing disgust.

‘Who is he, Ciel?’ asked Lizzie.

‘An old acquaintance…I think it’s become quite late, you should go soon’ he added.

‘But you haven’t opened my present yet!’ she protested.

‘I will soon’. The child resumed opening the packed stuff in front of him. The next one contained a clay statue with a rosary around its neck. It was from Soma and Agni, ‘With the hope that it will protect you and your young spirit’. Agni saluted him with a payer and Soma hugged him before walking out of the manor.

‘Lizzie, which one is yours?’

‘This one,’ she showed it to him. As he opened it, his heart raced. ‘Mm, what is it Young Earl?’ Lau spied from above his shoulder. It was a fine sword, of good quality as well. He didn’t take it out of the sheath, but could tell it was a valuable present. A “thank you” escaped his lips and the girl blushed. ‘Well, then I think I’ll take my leave. It has been a fun night Ciel. Good night’.

As she was leaving, Sebastian accompanied her to the door and welcomed another unexpected guest. ‘Evening Earl’.

‘Undertaker, I was not expecting to see you here. Have you finished playing with your dolls?’ his tone was not warm at all.

‘Not quite, but tonight they rest while you are here, full of life…’ suddenly he was behind Ciel, ‘How does it feel, losing another year of your life, getting closer and closer to the day when I will finally place you into one of my personalised coffins…’

‘I would appreciate,’ Sebastian interrupted him, taking his hand away from Ciel’s shoulder, ‘If you didn’t touch my Master’. Red glowed into the Butler’s eyes.

Ciel coughed to attract the others’ attention. He opened the last pack, which contained a series of scandalous items he thought well to dispose of as quickly as possible. ‘Those are for now…or when you grow up a bit more, Earl,’ commented Lau. ‘I must leave now, business awaits me, ah’.

‘Sebastian you can show him the way out…Bard, weren’t you talking about a present for me’.

‘Erm…I tried to…not sure…a cake…it didn’t…’

‘At least my house has not burned yet,’ the Earl sarcastically commented. ‘I’ll have a bite, I feel brave enough’.

‘S-sure…’

Five minutes later Ciel was struggling to swallow the driest cake he had ever tasted. It was so difficult he almost choked on it before Sebastian sent away the cook and his cake recommending him to never try again.

‘S-sebastian…water’.

‘Bocchan, I told you it didn’t seem a great idea to eat that thing,’ the demon’s eyes were narrow.

‘Sebby, would you not leave with me for a night of fire?’ Grell asked with dreamy eyes.

‘I am afraid my night is already booked. I have to attend to my Master’s every wish and cannot leave the manor at this time’.

‘Seriously, you need a break from your job. Well, do come and find me when you’re free…I’ll be waiting for you,’ the reaper said while leaving through the same window they had shattered before.

‘You’re the only one left, Undertaker. For some reason I feel you might want to give me a present,’ Ciel said looking at the dark figure on his left.

‘Hihihi, indeed I do, Earl,’ the once-reaper giggled, ‘It’s something you might find useful in the future, when your most important date comes…’

‘If it’s one of your coffins then I decline’.

‘It’s not,’ Undertaker said.

‘Oh?’ Ciel’s surprise showed on his face.

‘It’s a suit, for a dead man that is, ahah’ the dark man laughed his head off at the expression on the Earl’s face.

‘I don’t think I would enjoy it as a present’.

‘Too bad, too bad Earl, for your death might come earlier than you think’.

‘Sebastian, would you kindly see Undertaker off, I'm rather tired, I think I’ll go upstairs,’ the Earl said.

‘Of course my Lord,’ the butler replied with a bow.

Ciel walked towards the stairs while he heard Undertaker’s laugh behind him as he left the house. It was truly late and his birthday was almost over.

Notes:

Originally I had meant for this story to be shorter and include a sex scene between Sebastian and Ciel. However, I then realized that I didn’t want to move this fanfic to the mature section and published the second chapter as a one shot under the name “Happy birthday, Bocchan: His butler’s present”. If you are interested look for it on my profile.

Warning: it contains explicit yaoi content and a bit of blood/violence.

Series this work belongs to:

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#black butler fanfiction