#meeting KINGSLEY and knowing as much as he is your old friend he is also a new person who deserves the room to BE that new person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holdmytesseract · 2 years

Text

Welcome to the High Rise

Robert Laing x fem!Reader

Request: "Hi friend! If/when you do decide to open up your requests, would it be possible for you to write about Robert Laing meeting the reader in the high-rise for the first time? I'll leave it up to you to decide what the reader's background is - whether or not she works at the medical school like Robert, where she's from, etc. Thank you so much for everything you do :)" - Requested by @five-miles-over ! 😄

Summary: Dr. Robert Laing just moved into the High Rise. On a visit to the supermarket, he runs into a woman, who sweeps him off his feet on the first look...

Warnings: none, actually... one swear word

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Thank you for the request and your kind words, my friend @five-miles-over ! I loved writing this! I hope you like! 😊

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @fictive-sl0th

If you want to be added to my Tom Taglist, please let me know! 😄

The High Rise. A luxurious, modern, but also uncommon and quite a bit strange skyscraper. A skyscraper bigger than anything the people in London had seen before; built to afford the residents a whole new experience of luxury. The High Rise was separated from the rest of the civilisation, but living in this brand-new building didn't require contact to the rest of the world, oh no... Everything a human being needed could be found inside the skyscraper. Supermarkets, gyms, schools, swimming pools, drug stores, hell even a hairdresser. All it took was a trip to another floor. People were fascinated and so, the High Rise quickly came to life with countless residents. The spectrum ranged from families and singles to students and retired couples. Everyone wanted to live in this new, strange and spectacular house. So was Robert Laing. The young, quite wealthy doctor in physiology desperately needed a change of scenery after the split up with his now ex-wife and so the decision was made quickly. Robert wanted a fresh start, enjoy life, have fun and not think about the troubles in his past. So, the new destination was quickly set... The High Rise.

With an audible huff, Robert placed the stack of moving boxes down on the ground in his brand-new apartment. He didn't bring quite much from his old apartment. All he needed was five boxes - which eyed him from the floor now. The young doctor ran a hand through his short, blonde curls with brown hues, before he looked around. This could become a nice and cosy home, he thought with a smile. His plan was to unpack the boxes immediately and turn this flat into a home, but Robert was way too curious about this lively building, so he decided to look around and explore. His feet led him through the whole building - that was how it felt, at least. He was at the gym, in the swimming pool area, the sports hall, at almost every floor - yes, he even paid the big parking area a visit. And what could Robert say? This place was bustling with people, trying to live their best life. He was utterly fascinated by this seemingly perfect and flawless system of living.

His last destination although was the supermarket. This thing even had a supermarket! Robert grabbed one of the shopping baskets and made his way through the seemingly sheer endless racks, stuffed to the brim with different food, drinks and everything else you needed for a living. But also completely different articles. Paint for example. Paint. That was where Robert came abruptly to a halt, as a thought crossed his mind. He could paint his apartment, couldn't he? Change the boring white walls into a... His eyes roamed the rack, reading the labels of the different cans with paint. Grey! He could change the boring white walls into a decent, professional grey. Yes. That was exactly what he was going to do. The young doctor had been so focused on the truly fascinating range of paint in front of him, that he didn't even notice the woman standing only a few steps away from him. With a small smile to himself, he lifted his hand up high to reach for the can. Although, that smile quickly faded, turned into a surprised shock, as his bigger hand came suddenly into contact with a smaller hand. Shocked, he pulled his hand away; his eyes snapped down to his left, where he suddenly looked straight into a pair of Y/E/C eyes. They belonged to a woman. A woman with Y/H/C hair, which framed her beautiful face and fell in soft curls over her shoulders. A white dress with floral patterns wound itself around her smaller body and ended just above her knees. It looked sweet and innocent, yet it highlighted the curves of her body to perfection. Robert tried to keep his eyes on her face - what was pretty difficult for him. He was literally overwhelmed by the sudden beauty he came across. She stood beside him, surprised and shocked just like him. It was written all over her face - but suddenly his ears heard her sweet voice for the first time. A heart-warming giggle left her lips and Robert witnessed, how she covered her mouth with her hand, in an attempt to hide her embarrassment and probably shyness. "Oh my, I-I am so sorry, I..." She took a deep breath and gave Robert a beautiful, astonishing smile. He had the feeling it made the world light up around him. "I-I didn't think you'd reach for the same can of paint as I do... What a funny coincidence." Another, slightly insecure giggle left her soft lips - assumingly to play it cool and to somehow comprehend this slightly awkward situation. The sound of her kind voice seemed to get him out of his 'daze'.

Robert shook his head with a laugh himself, "A funny coincidence, indeed." before he gave her that charming smile of his. "Please, don't apologise, Miss..." "Oh, right, sorry!" The woman exclaimed, accompanied by another nervous giggle, while she stretched out her hand towards the doctor. "Y/N Y/L/N." He took her hand with a smile and brought her hand to his lips to place a soft, gentle kiss there. Gentlemen-like. Well played, Laing. He could've sworn she was blushing. "Please don't apologise, Miss Y/L/N. If someone should be apologising, it's me. I was lost in my thoughts. And I am taller. I should've noticed it, so... I am sorry." Y/N giggled once again and shook her head. "I guess we both were somewhere else with our minds..." Robert nodded, still smiling. "Guess so, yes." The two looked at each other for a short moment, awkwardly. "What's your name, actually? If I may be so bold to ask you." The doctor's eyes widened shortly. He didn't even introduce himself... That was usually not his way of behaviour. "How rude of me, I am, once again, apologising..." He straightened his tie and announced with a smile: "Doctor Robert Laing." The woman's eyebrows lifted in awe and surprise. "Doctor?" He nodded. "Yes. I work at the medical school, teaching students in physiology." "That's truly fascinating, Dr. Laing. I think I never met a doctor before." Robert frowned slightly at her words, so the young woman noticed and jumped quickly to correct her words. "I-I mean outside of a doctor's office or the hospital." There she was, blushing for the second time in front of the - without a doubt, handsome man. Robert smiled at her nervous, awkward stutter. "I see... What are you doing for a living, Miss Y/L/N?" The way Doctor Laing rolled her name off his tongue brought the woman's legs close to edge to turn into jelly. Paired with those mesmerising blue eyes... "Uh, I-I am a primary school teacher." Once again Robert smiled that charming, attractive smile. "Seems like we have something in common then... Are you working here in the High Rise?" Y/N nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. A nervous habit. "Yes, yes, I do. Not long, though... About five months." "Well, you live longer here than I do. I just moved in." Her eyes widened with a small laugh. "Oh, really?" Robert joined her laughter, nodding. "Yes." "Which floor?" Y/N's boldness made another appearance. "Twenty-five." And once again the doctor witnessed the woman's eyes widen. "No way! That's a joke, Mr. Laing, right?" He shook his head, laughing. "Absolutely not. Why?" "Because I live there, too! But given the fact that you just moved in, explains why I never ran into you before." What another funny coincidence... "This place is so big and yet so small..." Robert stated, chuckling. Y/N giggled, too, before her gaze settled coincidentally on the big clock hanging in the supermarket. Half past three... Oh shit! She had to go! There was a very important school staff meeting waiting for her! All she wanted to do was a quick grocery shopping, but well... "I-I'm so sorry, Dr. Laing, but I have to go! I'll see you around - and..." She gave him a last smile, before she turned to leave. "Welcome to the High Rise!"

#robert laing x fem!reader #robert laing x reader #robert laing x y/n #robert laing x you #dr robert laing #high rise #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston characters

61 notes · View notes

dent-de-leon · 2 years

Note

Chinhands

If you feel up to it I'd love to hear some more of your thoughts on post campaign widowmauk/widowking, I always love what you have to say about it (and possibly shadowidowmauk as well if anything comes to mind)

Oh, thank you so much! I'm more than happy to.

Kingsley is an intriguing medley of contradictions. It's so very telling that he still remembers the tarot cards he drew for everyone as Molly, the little tiefling virtue names he gave to all his loved ones. "I get...feelings from you. All of you..." Even though Taliesin gave him a "reset," he isn't actually Empty--I like to believe he's still that little soul shard of Molly, even if this is a new life, something like a Consecuted reincarnation.

Because he still feels the same for all the Nein. He's lost and runs, holds his head in his hands, repeating, "Empty. Empty..." But then he sees Yasha, and he knows she's "Love." He's not a wholly "blank slate," because he has these deeply ingrained emotional attachments that weren't there when he first woke in the grave.

So it's maybe a little hard at first, a little alienating and frustrating. But he has these feelings from a lifetime ago, so of course he falls for Caleb again. He's a bit guarded and defensive at times. "I don't think I'm him. Is that going to be alright in the long run?" But then they all rush to reassure him. The cute wizard smiles and says, "We have a habit of taking in strays."

And it's harder, after that. To try and push any of them away. To deny that that part of him is gone entirely.

Kingsley: “Not now, but in the future, I'd like to hear about your friend. Later, once I--once I know me better."

Yasha: "I would love that...It's nice to have you back."

Kingsley: "It's nice to be back."

Yasha: "You know what I mean."

Kingsley: "I do."

He wakes to unconditional love and acceptance, and he's not entirely sure he really deserves it. "Thank you, I--I'm looking forward to the future, and I hope I deserve to have woken up surrounded by such people...Thank you all, really, for my life. But I figure I better get to using it..."

King thinking about how badly Caleb wanted to make him feel welcome, wanted him to know that he'll always be a part of the Nein. “Well, for starters, you are with friends." "Perhaps this is your first time meeting us. It's our second time...Stick with us.” “This is the newest member of the band.” He lets Caleb continue to call him Circus Man, even if he can't explain why.

He was never in a circus--except he was, in the dream. And oh, it was "the nicest dream." It's Caleb's name for Molly, but King lets him say it all the same, can't help but like the sound of it. Maybe it's too hard to be Molly; too complicated, too many broken memories and haunting nightmares. Red eyes and black chains. But he can keep being Caleb's Circus Man, he thinks. Somehow that feels easy. And maybe one day, he remembers Caleb calling out to him and shattering Lucien's control, how desperate Caleb was to reach him.

When Beau sees King call Caleb cute and start biting his lip, she also seems to take it as a positive sign--as something familiar, a spark of their old friend that's still in there. Out of everything, Molly's little crush on Caleb is a part of him that stayed. I think that's beautiful. Jester immediately jumping in to let Caleb know how King feels is also just adorable, I love how excited she gets--and Caleb's joking little, "Don't spoil it."

Caleb: “A little crown starts to rotate over the head of the illusion of our friend.”

Kingsley: “Oh, you’re cute, Magic Man.”

Beau: “Alright. It’s still a little bit--that’s good.”

Jester: “He’s biting his lip at you! My mother taught me that’s a sure-fire sign--”

Caleb: “Don’t spoil it.”

King is a rebirth, I think. A reincarnation, in the same vein as Consecution. Core aspects of his old self carry on, in immutable echoes and subconscious dreams. And when he first wakes, he has no inhibitions, feels free to act on sheer instinct and pursue whatever his heart desires. He's entirely self-indulgent, impulsive. Chases after every joy and pleasure life has to offer. So of course he's as forward as possible with his feelings for Caleb.

But it's not just that King immediately falls for Caleb--Liam lets us know Caleb is also attracted to him in turn. He didn't have to, but in that last scene between these two characters, Liam is happy to add, "Caleb enjoys that." Caleb genuinely likes King's flirting. He returned the forehead kiss from months ago. He followed Lucien all the way to the Astral Sea just for the chance to bring back Mollymauk, passionately pleads for his life and performs the resurrection.

He's so quick to welcome King back into the Nein—the way Molly tried to make him realize he didn’t have to be alone. And maybe it's just meant to be a bit of playful fun and teasing. But given that there's nothing to really hold King back from acting on his feelings, I can imagine him just going for it and trying to sweep Caleb off his feet.

I can easily see him stealing a quick kiss from Caleb one day, soft and sweet and entirely on a whim. He expects the wizard's smile and warm chuckle. He's not expecting Caleb to actually lean in and kiss him back. It's not hard for me to picture King taking a chance on his feelings, even if he never stays with Caleb permanently. I think he's interested enough in his Magic Man for something about the Magician to keep drawing him back from even the furthest shore.

Oftentimes, Essek probably has to stay off the grid, or is away on quests in pursuit of his own arcane research, and King is out sailing the seas—always chasing a new horizon, slowly discovering himself and coming to terms with rekindled memories. But they always find their way back to Caleb in time, and sometimes the stars align, and they all fall together in a warm, cozy bed in the tower.

On that note--shadowidomauk. Okay, so--in my self-indulgent headcannon, Caleb gradually forms a relationship with both Essek and King post-campaign. I like that Caleb is polyamorous, and I like the thought of him being in another polyamorous relationship post campaign. After he's had the time to heal and learn to let others in again.

The thought of King/Molly eventually becoming Caleb's partner is something that really resonates with me, because Caleb was just...so terrified of intimacy when Molly knew him. He was so vulnerable and touch-starved, tried so hard to keep pulling away whenever the rest of the Nein reached out.

But Mollymauk wanted him to feel like a part of their family anyway, wanted both him and Nott to know they didn't have to shut everyone else out and try to make it on their own. For all his mercurial whims and sharp edges, Mollymauk Tealeaf truly cares.

He corners Nott one day about her and Caleb's self-sabataging recklessness, furious at how they've endangered themselves with their own obstinance. Because it just isn't worth their lives. "So, do you think it would be a good idea to explain to him that he almost got himself killed tonight? Turning on a bunch of people he was working with, he almost got himself killed tonight for nothing.”

Gently admonishes Caleb for always trying to shoulder heavy burdens all on his own, weighing himself down with pain and grief when there are others willing to help him carry it. “Mr. Caleb. There’s only so many burdens we’re expected to bear before we’re asking for failure.” So I think there's actually a lot of King Molly and his complicated past with Caleb that Essek would understand intimately.

There's a reason why that first forehead kiss stayed with Caleb all campaign, why he wanted to reciprocate Molly's own love language in the very end. And I think that's why the forehead kiss was what he offered in that moment when Essek was at his lowest, reckoning with his own sins and wallowing in regret. Caleb even quotes Molly's own philosophy to him, "I lean in and kiss him right here, and say, 'Maybe you and I are both damned. But we can choose to do something, and leave it better than it was before.'"

It's for Essek's sake, Essek's comfort. But he's using Molly's words, Molly's touch. In that moment, Caleb must have been thinking of both of them, of what they both gave him, and what he wished he could return. I think shadowidomauk would work, because Caleb passes on the very same tenderness and compassion he was shown by Mollymauk to Essek.

I believe Essek knew that too, when everything fell apart in the Astral Sea. When all the Nein were mourning their fallen friend, bereft with grief. Their one last hope shattered. Essek doesn't "storm off in a huff," until immediately after Caleb gives Molly that forehead kiss goodbye.

When he sees that same gesture of unconditional love and compassion. The depths of Caleb's grief shakes him enough to bring tears to his eyes, crying for a soul he never know. Essek sees this man's heart laid bare, and says, "Caleb Widogast, have you ever accepted defeated?" As long as he's known Caleb, he has never once seen him look so despondent, utterly crushed, surrendering to the cruelty of fate. Until he loses Molly. Of all things, that's what makes Caleb's last spark of hope die out.

There are little echoes there, between these two relationships. Shared love languages with Caleb, different narrative parallels and story beats that I think would compliment each other well.

Essek, who has known Caleb's drive, and focus, and wonder--his guilt, and solitude, and regret. Both terribly clever and always dreaming up some innovative new arcane pursuit, copying down each other's spells and excitedly sharing their latest breakthrough. Long nights surrounded by books and cats, unravelling what makes the universe tick.

And then there's Molly. So very different from Caleb, and yet shaped by so many mirrored tragedies. Too many scars and missing memories. Trying on new names to escape a past they've been running from all their life, taking comfort in the solace of a new start.

Reforging themselves from the ashes, a life built out of love and joy and happy memories. Molly cagey and having a panic attack when he's "discovered," when he first hears the name Lucien and he's terrified this little family--the only people he has--will leave him behind. Caleb assuring him that, "I believe in second starts, and that's enough for me."

Lastly, there's this one narrative parallel I really love. A recurring thread that binds both of Caleb's previous love interests, his future partner Essek, and Mollymauk all together--the recurring theme of second chances. A tentative, yearning hope for redemption and salvation. The core of Caleb's very own character arc.

Caleb agonizes over facing Astrid and Wulf again, because a part of his heart aches for them still, wants so badly to believe they are not beyond saving. “I don’t know how redeemable or not my friends are. I don’t have a lot of faith that they are, but...I need to know. For sure.”

After the reveal of Essek's betrayal, Caleb struggles with opening up again; he can't even bring himself to ask for help when he needs it the most. "I don't know if we want to tell Essek that there is a potential way to plug into the greatest minds of the arcane in all history...I honestly don't trust him enough." But he clearly wants to, longs to rebuild burnt bridges, in spite of how dangerous it is. As soon as he meets Essek face-to-face again, he tries to reconnect.

Those lingering doubts, that fear and hesitation--the sheer heartache of longing, daring to cling to threadbare hope. All of that is the heart of Caleb's complicated feelings toward Lucien and Mollymauk. Again and again, Caleb expresses his desire to try and reach Molly, refusing to ever give up on him.

“Well, for those of us interested in trying to redeem our old friend, we certainly don’t have a method to do so at the moment. The thin hope would be that--[there’s] something about where we’re going��[but it] seems pretty thin…” So you have this interesting parallel of Caleb talking about saving Mollymauk in the same way he talks about redeeming his past lovers and Essek.

And it's heartbreaking that Caleb is so desperate to offer Mollymauk another chance, even when he believes he himself is already beyond forgiveness. He drops to his knees before Molly's empty grave and says, "I'm going to hell anyway." Even if he's already doomed, if there's no way to ever atone for the things he's done--he still sees Mollymauk as worthy of salvation. “Please don’t give up, you can still find your own life again. There will be time for that later.”

He wanted more than anything to give Molly more time, and now he's standing here before him again--irrevocably forever changed, but with the heart that still beats for all of them. King still dreams of giving up all that he is and sacrificing himself for the Nein's sake without regret. Remembers his agonizing death in the Astral Sea and truly believing, "It was worth it."

He has the thing that Caleb wanted more than anything for his parents, the very same thing Caleb himself constantly grappled with his own guilt and grief to finally accept--a second chance. And I could see him wanting to spend part of this new life with his Magician.

Anyway, this got long and rambling, but. Thank you for asking, here are my favorite post-campaign widomauk and shadowidomauk thoughts :')

#widomauk #caleb widogast #shadowidomauk #mollymauk #kingsley tealeaf #LONG POST VERY LONG. THIS REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME SORRY

53 notes · View notes

professorthaddeus · 3 years

Text

Mother, Father. This will be my final letter.

You know, I used to find the two of you everywhere. I would see the love I betrayed in the faces of families who are whole. I would hear your terrified screams in laughter. I would see your bodies twisted in agony in the flickering of a campfire. I would feel your blood on my hands every time I cast a spell.

I would find you everywhere, and so I held fast to the possibility that I would bring you back.

Today, I relinquished the chance of it ever becoming a reality.

I could have gone back and saved you. It would have worked. There were puzzle pieces in that chamber that I would have clicked into place; there was magic buried in those relics that I would have unlocked and unleashed.

I would have joined the ranks of mages of myth. I could have unraveled everything.

The chamber is nothing but ashes now.

I still find the two of you everywhere. Your dreams for my potential are in the spells I learned from Essek. Your hope for the Empire is in Beauregard’s pen as she fights for our people, stroke by stroke. Your love is in the grin that Veth shines on her son when he fires a toy crossbow at the ass of a local shopkeeper.

I miss you. I love you. I am sorry.

I hope I can still make you proud.

Caleb closes that worn, leather-bound book for the last time. Tucks it back beneath his arm, stands, walks to the entryway of his tower. His hand shakes as he reaches for the handle.

Well, you and the Nein got me to the door. Now I have to walk through it.

He takes a deep breath, then takes his first step outside.

He arrives in Blumenthal alone, visits their graves, leaves his letters in the ground.

And he gets to work. But in this, he is not alone.

Beauregard is there, matching every armload of books he carries with two of her own. They spend their days compiling records and narratives, wielding the truth both in court and behind the scenes—children of the Empire leaving their home better than they found it for the children who will come after them, just as they always vowed.

What wasn’t planned is this: a couple times every week, Beauregard drags Caleb out of the library. They teleport to a remote cottage in a location that few are privy to, where Yasha will have started preparing the ingredients for a new recipe from Caduceus. The instructions are often passed through a jumbled chain of Jester’s messages, and there always seem to be a suspicious number of bugs included for supposedly vegetarian dishes, but they make it work all the same. On more than a few occasions, Caleb plays referee while Beauregard and Yasha spar, safe in the knowledge that their attacks are of their own free will and they will never truly harm each other again.

Jester and Fjord spend much of their time on the open sea, but Jester’s voice is never far from Caleb’s ear. She tells him of everything from her newest tattoo victim to an encounter with a dragon turtle with a grudge, from a shanty about dicks she came up with on the fly to an update on a young half-orc girl Fjord has taken under his wing. Every once in a while, Jester will demand a reunion, too. Some of them are out of necessity—such as when Uk’otoa finally comes knocking and Fjord can no longer sail the other away—but many are not. They meet in Nicodranas when the Nein Heroez docks for a pastry run, they meet in Hupperdook for a night packed with drinking contests and celebone sticks and hugs for Kiri, they meet on Rumblecusp when life becomes too much and the nine of them sorely need to fuck off to a vacation. Soon, even Darktow is open to them, once Kingsley has unseated the Plank King and lifted their ban from the island. His reign is long, and it is magnificent. Until he grows bored.

Caduceus joins them for every mandated reunion, but for the most part, he tends to his garden or explores the world on his own. But he is never out of reach, and when he does not come to the rest of them, they go to him. It is not uncommon for Caleb to arrive in the Blooming Grove to see Beauregard already meditating by the pond. Other times, Fjord will be there drinking tea with Caduceus, and the three of them will share a quiet conversation, each far more secure in their words than they’d been over fish and chips all those years ago. Often it is just Caduceus and his parents and siblings, and Caleb will be invited to a family dinner in a home that Ikithon could not burn down.

Veth remains a constant in Caleb’s life. Of course she does. Sometimes, when the two of them are teaching the neighborhood kids how to point a copper wire, or reminiscing over a glass of sherry, or simply talking while she weaves flowers into his hair on the beaches of Nicodranas, he’ll think back to his old fears of losing her to her family and laugh. After all, how could such a thing be possible when he is a part of her family himself?

There are others, too.

Countless students who pass under his tutelage and grow into young mages who know that power should be used to protect, not to manipulate. A cat—well, there are many cats, but there is one in particular that Caleb does not own, a snowy white fey cat who slinks in and out of his classroom as he pleases, whose eyes seem to flash when the Martinet arrives to have a word, who settles into place around Caleb’s shoulders with a purr when the rare nightmare returns.

An unexpected kinship with Yeza, forged at first through mutual respect and an understanding in their love for Veth, but eventually growing into a friendship in its own right. It is one that unfolds in quiet nights by stacks of books, in gleeful debates when comparing notes on magic and alchemy, in exhausted evenings watching over Luc together while Veth takes a girls’ night out to cause some chaos with Jester, Beauregard, and Yasha.

His old friends, who, try as they might, never seem able to sever the threads that have always tangled their fates together. It is Eadwulf who comes around first, with the silent offering of a bottle and a grim smile as he and Caleb crumble the bricks of Vergesson to dust. Astrid takes time. It makes sense—she has always been a fantastic dancer, and for a while, it appears they will be trapped in a precarious political tango forever, stepping around each other in their roles as the Archmage of Civil Influence and a simple teacher who may or may not be practicing treason in his classroom. But in the shadows, Astrid pulls a few strings to keep Caleb out of prison. Caleb hears a rumor and sends the might of the Cobalt Soul after a colleague who wants Astrid dead. And eventually, she begins joining him and Wulf on their evening walks through the streets of Rexxentrum. They return to the dance hall. They get lunch. They share memories, relearn each other’s old scars, and discover that solace can still be found in each other the way it was when they were children. It will always be complicated. It starts to become beautiful.

And of course, floating by Caleb’s side every step of the way is Essek, a drow who has learned to curb his ambition and care for others, who has decided to make his own amends. The former Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, who now spends his days picking up cupcakes for Jester in Uthodurn, planting seeds in the Blooming Grove. Sitting in on Caleb’s lessons with a different face each week, sketching runes into the floor of Caleb’s home amongst scattered papers and spell components, curling up on a couch beside Caleb and begrudgingly getting through Tusk Love because he promised. A traitor, a hero, a lifelong friend. A steadfast love.

So when Caleb Widogast arrives at the final page of his story, he is no longer shrouded in guilt, or grief, or regret. No, he is surrounded by the warmth of his chosen family when he takes his last breath, when time has run its course and he is finally ready to meet his parents again.

(And even before he sees their faces, he knows. He knows he made them proud.)

—————

also on ao3 | my other cr fics

#critical role #caleb widogast #mighty nein #empire siblings #shadowgast #blumendrei #cr spoilers #c2e141 #this is very delayed because i've been too busy to sit down and finish it until now and it's kind of a mess #buuut here tumblr have half my feelings about the finale and the nein crammed into one fic #my writing #my ramblings #c2 epilogue #cr fic

242 notes · View notes

harrypotterandthefandomaccount · 3 years

Text

breathless

pairing: severus snape x fem!reader

request: Hi, first things first I love Your work. I'd like to ask for a request for Snape. It's where snape first meets y/n and he instantly falls for her. Kinda like love at first sight

warnings: none.

note: severus snape is welcomed at 12 grimmauld :’) also the description of the order and grimmauld place is rly shitty in this but this is a drabble so nothing too serious. enjoy!

you were one of few to believe in love at first sight as nowadays, all one had to do was trick another into drinking amortentia. however, the idea of locking eyes with your one true love, feeling your heartbeat quicken and palms grow sweaty, felt much more humane than a silly potion.

the moment you laid eyes on severus snape, oh my, you felt as if you had drunk an entire gallon of amortentia.

never would you have thought that the meeting place between you and your love would be 12 grimmauld place, but when your life is intertwined with harry potter’s, anything is possible.

when you had become an auror and a part of the ministry, you had no idea how fearful, yet easily swayed, your fellow wizards and witches were. you had known lord voldemort was back; it truly was not a shock. however, talking about him seemed to only put you in bad light of those who wanted nothing to do with the evil being. becoming annoyed with those in your own community, you followed kingsley shacklebolt and eventually became part of the order of the phoenix. quietly, you fed the order information about sirius and the knowabouts of Voldemort, helping out any way to clear sirius’ name and spread the awareness of the dark lord’s resurrection.

after harry had been attacked by two dementors, both you and kingsley had become the advance guard, vowing to escort the young wizard to 12 grimmauld place. it seemed silly sometimes, having trained and experienced aurors escorting the harry potter to the safehouse, but it was necessary, as kingsley put it.

once entering the townhouse after a quick patrol, you heard familiar voices echoing from the kitchen. with scrunched eyebrows, you remembered the house being empty before you left, save for molly and the kids. shuffling your shoes off your feet, you softly padded towards the room before pausing at a long string that stretched from the third floor, an ear attached to the end. with a giggle, you picked up the ear, whispering, “you know you kids shouldn’t be meddling, hmm?”

fred snickered besides george and the rest of the teens, “sure, princess, but tell us what you know after the meeting, yeah?”

you put a hand on your hip, “and why would i do that, fred weasley?”

george then took the other end of the listening device, cackling, “because mom won’t tell us the juicy bits! plus, one of our professors is in there - new ears, new sets of eyes. why can’t we be in the loop?”

you glanced down at crookshanks who was enjoying his time rubbing against your leg. kneeling down carefully, you whispered once more, “for your own protection, George - and the rest of you.” with a slow hand, you gave crookshanks the ear, happily munching on it as you heard gasps of ‘ouch!’ echo from upstairs.

walking into the kitchen, you spotted molly right away. with a soft laugh, you kissed her check as a greeting, “your kids and their friends have serious evesdropping tendencies, mrs. weasley.”

she scoffed at the mention of her kids doing such, “ever since fred and george opened that joke shop, they’ve made it their mission to hear everything about these meetings! i really outta storm up there-”

sirius black stood up from the table to greet you, “y/n, my love! thank you for coming; you know your presence is always welcomed.”

you gave a smile, “always happy to help my best friends. . .and kingsley too, i guess.”

that earned you a grumble from the old man himself.

saying your last few greetings, you were met with a new pair of eyes. my, did these eyes bore into you - but in a way where you relaxed immediately, feeling safe in his presence. you looked over him, noticing his wrinkles around his eyes, showing his traumatic past and most likely harrowing future. your heart ached.

his eyes had stories to tell you, imagining your face on the parallel side of his pillow, listening to what he had to say. his nose asked to be touched by your delicate hands, waiting to feel your pointer finger slowly stroke the one thing he had always been insecure about.

his lips begged to be kissed with love, with a softness he had never known. a softness he had longed for with lily, but had never received.

his own eyes traveled over your features as if he was committing them to memory, terrified that if he skipped over one detail, it’d all go to waste. however, severus felt as if he had all the time in the world to memorize you, understand you.

remus cleared his throat, “once you two are done undressing each other with your eyes-”

severus’ face grew red in seconds, “lupin, you dunderhead, there was no such -”

you tried to hide a smile as you whispered, “I wasn’t necessarily undressing him, in my defense.”

kingsley threw you an unimpressed look, “hopeless romantic, hmm?”

remus continued, “proper introductions are in order. y/n l/n, this is severus snape, potions professor at Hogwarts. severus, this is y/n, an auror for the ministry and one of our best insiders.”

you waved your hand, “more compliments my way, please!”

severus enjoyed your energy, your warmth, your confidence, but most importantly, your tranquility. you seemed so peaceful, yet ready to fight for what you believed was right. he grew breathless; you were so etheral.

meeting his eyes again, you grew breathless once more, wanting nothing more than hold him close and tell him it was okay. you enjoyed his own aura, the mystery of his life, the unknown, but most importantly, the yearning to be loved. he truly deserved to be loved.

severus never believed in love at first sight until he saw you. locking eyes with your own had become his greatest achievement, but also his greatest downfall. he had fallen in love at first sight, and now, he was breathless.

416 notes · View notes

grayintogreen · 3 years

Text

Critical Role Fic Masterlist [August 1st-August 31st]

WOOF. What a month. Not an exceptionally great one for Ye Olde Depression, but I guess I went the Hemmingway in dealing with it. I found a neat word tracking app, but I only started it midway through the month, but just from HALF the month, I racked up 50k+ words. ...Yeah.

Anyway! For the record, I’m separating out the flashfic featured in paper moon and tinsel stars here on my masterlist for ease of access for people who might only want to read specific ships/characters, since the anthology is, uh, poorly organized. I like titles. It’s a thing.

This was also the month of the Tombtaker Hostage Situation and 90% of my bad things happen bingo prompts. I’m doing Whumptober next month so maybe I’ll cool it on the dark stuff in September (probably not).

LET’S GET TO IT, SHALL WE?

SHIPPY FICS

Creecien (Cree/Lucien)

and the heat only goes where you tell it to go. (E, MIND THE TAGS, 4955 words). The Mighty Nein fail to beat the Tombtakers to Cognouza. It still doesn’t really go well for them. Also monsterfucking. But seriously, mind the tags. It’s dark.

he’ll never know how much you’ve done. (T, 2896 words). Cree and Lucien, pre-canon. Getting your wounds tended because you used Life Transference on your stupid asshole crush and he is an oblivious dick.

this story’s yours and this story’s mine. (G, 2679 words). Tinytakers!! Baby Cree has some deep-rooted psychological issues. Lucien is Lucien even at thirteen.

and i shall give you sparks that blaze as hot as any fire. (E, 3686 words) ‘Tis the month of Creecien smut. (No really). Cree’s wavering in the wake of the other Tombtakers’ deaths so Lucien bangs her in front of the Immensus Gate. WITH RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM.

i need to touch a holy place. (E, 3546 words). I TOLD YOU. This is the missing sex scene from this church takes no conversions. I don’t know who the target audience for this is. I guess it’s me.

Widomauk (Mollymauk/Caleb)

i have been the source of all the troubles we have known. (T, 3508 words). Molly comes back after the fight with Lucien and he’s not okay. At all.

and he’ll laugh when your troubles are gone. (G, 2613 words). Caleb and Molly go to a flea market. IT’S JUST SHAMELESS FLUFF. I CAN WRITE THAT SOMETIMES.

Lucigast (Lucien/Caleb)

guard your eggshell heart. (T, 1910 words). Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Scourgers get the jump on the Tombtakers and Lucien is none too pleased about it.

in the dreaming trees. (T, 2469 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb accidentally dreamshares in the Tombtaker Discord Chat and things escalate. You may see this one again, because I promised the porn continuation at some point. And I keep my promises.

the scourge of cabin boys and kings. (T, 2856 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb and Lucien discuss scars. And Lucien cannot get this damn wizard under his thumb.

Other Ships

spread your wings and show me quick. (G, 744 words) Astrid/Jester. Jester teaches Astrid how to ice skate.

mad science love song. (G, 808 words ) Yeza/Essek. Yeza asks for Essek’s help tinkering. Trust ensues.

GEN FICS

wounded in an accidental war. (T, 1348 words). Beau gets injured by Molly due to a wayward Charm Person. Bonding, guilt, and wound care ensues.

and the choir sings hallelujah to a god i will not observe. (T, 1999 words). Yasha gets left behind on Cognouza to deal with Lucien alone until the Mighty Nein can save her. Turns out she’s more than capable of ruining his day alone. (CW: Self-harm, ritual bloodletting)

by the flicker of their fire. (T, 1737 words) Another part of my TOTALLY ACCIDENTAL “Tombtaker Hostage Situation” series I ended up writing this month. Caleb gets left behind in 123. He’s a very disagreeable hostage.

what the promised land would promise me. (T, 3169 words). The Intuit Charge massacre from the Tombtakers’ perspective.

too rough for the soft way. (T, 2656 words). Beau and Lucien get snowed in and “bond.” Kinda.

but we’re so much more than that old, bitter law. (T, 1721 words). The Empire Siblings deal with the consequences of fighting power and oppression, but at least they have each other.

even the sky bleeds twilight. (T, 1927 words). In which Lucien murders Vess DeRogna. That’s it. That’s the fic.

against the devil’s own roulette. (T, 2860 words). Brand of Castigation is a bitch and now it’s Fjord’s turn for a Tombtaker Hostage Situation(TM). Good thing he’s good at honeypots. Kinda.

a generation sacrificed in self-defense. (T, 3230 words). Astrid asks Caleb and Beau to facilitate her taking back the night on Trent Ikithon without murdering him. Cue the torturerer getting a little bit of torture right back. And Astrid invents a new spell! Yay! (Yay?)

every moment changes lifetimes (even moments we regret). (T, 789 words). That moment at the T-Dock was not the first time Caleb had to make the same difficult choice.

this is a song of fingers pointing, casting shame. (T, 2827 words) Beau makes friends with Astrid and Eadwulf. They have a lot in common, after all.

the coyotes know her name. (T, 2561 words). Jester gets a successful divine intervention. Artagan uses it as an excuse to cause problems on purpose.

bind me, break me, can you take me (T, 2456 words). Beau gets left behind with the Tombtakers and discovers an unexpected ally.

you’re my canvas (better yet, dear, you’re my muse) (T, 1616 words) Beau and Molly get high in the Blooming Grove and Molly finds out about her tattoo.

trickster’s silken ribbon. (G, 901 words). Fearne meets Artagan as she enters the Material Plane for the first time.

we keep our tribal secrets and we recognize our own. (G, 922 words) Threeleaf AU. Caduceus observes a sibling brawl between the Threeleafs.

close your eyes and let me in. (G, 1194 words) Set in the Doppelganger’s Song universe. Molly convinces Lucien to let him braid his hair.

if you would curry my favor. (G, 735 words) Threeleaf AU. Molly and Kingsley attempt to get their brother a date because he is the worst.

so this is what i’ve known of love (G, 707 words) Caduceus embraces the chaos of his two families meeting... within reason.

52 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Text

Same Smile

Huge thanks to my wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian and my amazing friend @minky-for-short for the inspiration and listening to me reigniting my widomauk obsession.

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

------

Caleb Widogast did not know his husband, Mollymauk Tealeaf, had an identical brother.

He didn't know his husband had two identical brothers.

He didn't know one of those identical brothers is on shore leave and was sitting on his couch. Not until he kissed him, anyway.

Basically a Modern AU where all of the tenants of the Tealeaf body are identical triplets!

------

Caleb dropped his satchel on the floor with a dull, heavy thunk. He tried to find it in him to care when one of the overtaxed buckles popped open and a pen, some student’s papers and a handful of crystals spilled across the hall rug. That could be a problem for tomorrow morning.

But for tonight he’d had a very, very long day. He’d had two seminars where none of his students had done the reading, a lab demonstration that had gone horribly wrong and made him smell like ammonia all day, he’d had to eat lunch on the train to make it to the bookshop on time only to find the day’s delivery was wrong and he’d ended up with hundreds of copies of a medical textbook that was very informative but probably weren’t going to sell very well. All in all it had been a pretty shit day and a burst buckle was not going to muscle its way in on top of all that.

Caleb had a very narrow, very selective list of what was going to be allowed in the rest of his day. And top of that list was finding his husband, slumping down next to him and pressing his face to the curve of his neck where the scent of his perfume was the strongest. Next on that list was letting his son sit on his lap and do that adorable thing he’d been doing lately where he rubbed his head all over his papa while babbling contentedly, almost like he was just telling Caleb about his day. Next was his daughter curling around his shoulders and purring loudly right next to his ear.

And that was about it, honestly. Maybe a cup of tea.

Caleb hung up his coat and scarf, both of them still dusted with drizzle from outside, kicking his shoes into the corner. He half considered going and putting his pyjamas on but that wasn’t on the list, he just needed to have Molly run his fingers through his hair to work the knots out of it and tell him everything was okay, that he was home now.

Molly was curled up on the sofa, the slightly tatty one with it back to the door. He had his hair loose, just pushed back from his face with a thin leather headband. It looked nice, Caleb made a vague mental note to tell him so.

“Hey,” Caleb leaned over the edge of the sofa, already smiling just from the closeness, “You would not believe the day I’ve had…”

He didn’t give his husband a chance to answer, just kissing him softly, catching his lips halfway through forming a word. Caleb melted into it, putting his hand to his face, stoking his thumb across a cheek that was slightly rougher than he remembered it being that morning.

Caleb froze, eyes snapping open.

He yanked himself backwards, face completely expressionless as he stared at this person he’d just kissed. This person who absolutely, definitely was not his Mollymauk.

That person grinned crookedly, “I think you’re still having it, Red.”

Whenever Caleb was confronted by sudden panic, his brain chose to cope with it by shutting down entirely, by going into some kind of distant stand-by mode like a computer overwhelmed by a virus and choosing to simply crash in response.

Which was probably why he responded to this stranger that looked exactly but not exactly enough like his husband, sitting on his sofa and who he’d just passionately, mistakenly kissed, by opening his mouth and saying, “You’re not on the list.”

The stranger’s lopsided grin didn’t fade, the same sharp teeth that lived in Mollymauk’s mouth flashing but a few of these were cracked, one entirely made out of dentist’s acrylic, like this person had been punched in the face a few times. They were also wearing black leathers mostly, a sleeveless tunic that billowed out into a coat, a tight white shirt underneath and close fitting pants. And the tattoos weren’t right, he had them for certain but the designs and placement were wrong, these were heavily done in stark black and showed mostly waves and coordinates and compasses. They looked like homemade stick and poke jobs. The jewellery wasn’t as heavy either, seaglass threaded onto leather and thin gold chains.

Not Mollymauk. Definitely not Mollymauk.

“You must be Caleb,” they chuckled knowingly, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Caleb was saved from having to think of where to go from there by footfalls on the creaky floorboards in the hallway and Mollymauk appearing in the doorway. His actual Mollymauk, he glanced up and down him and confirmed it- the heavy gems hanging from his horns, the bright flowing coat and high boots, the scars that littered his neck and collarbone, the stretch marks that peeked between the waist of his leggings and his crop top.

What threw Caleb for a moment was the slightly harried, slightly exasperated expression on his face. He could count on both hands the amount of times he’d actually seen Mollymauk look stressed like that. Also the fact that he was holding a tray on which he’d actually gone to the effort of arranging two mugs that almost matched, sugar in a little bowl, a milk bottle, a handful of spoons.

Molly’s red eyes flickered between them for a moment before his face slumped into an expression of equal parts guilt and defeat. Like the face of someone who’d forgotten to water someone’s beloved houseplant and had been caught in the middle of replacing it.

“Oh,” he said in an attempt at cheeriness that was edged with too much tiredness to be convincing, “So you’ve met already…”

“A little more than that,” the Not Mollymauk laughed, leaning back casually and kicking their boots up onto the scuffed coffee table, “Your husband’s a good kisser, Moll.”

Caleb gave a strangled squeak of alarm, all that he could come up with in his own defence while his brain was still in static mode, feeling his face flush a hot, prickly red.

Molly just shook his head, an exhausted kind of realisation tightening his already tight smile, “Um...Caleb, this is Kingsley. Kingsley is, uh...he’s my brother.”

Caleb stared at him blankly, metally tearing through his files for any hint that his husband had mentioned a brother before and coming up empty, “Your...he’s not on my list, Mollymauk.”

Molly tilted his head slightly and gently skipped over that, shooting Caleb a brief, pleading look that promised an explanation later. He moved past Caleb to set the tray down on the coffee table, his tail giving an irritated flick to move his apparent brother’s feet out of the way first.

Kingsley moved, apparently completely unfazed by anything that had happened so far, “He’s cute, Moll, where did you find him? When you told me you’d shacked up with a professor of all things, I was expecting someone a little more-”

“We met at one of my shows,” Molly cut across him, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence, “We were friends for years and then we got together. And he isn’t just a professor, he’s got the bookshop too.”

“Gods, your band!” Kingsley laughed, folding his legs up underneath him instead, “I remember that, you and Yash and that busted old guitar you had...I mean, fuck man, if he still married you after hearing you play, you know it’s true love.”

Molly gave a noncommittal grunt, pushing one of the mugs at him perhaps a little harder than he needed to.

Caleb hesitantly moved to sit in a chair off to the side, still quite unsure what to do. He was so distracted he almost sat on Frumpkin, who huffed and slithered into his master’s lap, glaring through slitted eyes at this doppelganger of someone he already wasn’t fond of.

“But yeah, like I was saying,” Kingsley, cradled the tea between cupped hands as scarred as his brother’s, “The Revelry’s got me running this cargo to Nicodranas and I thought hey, if I’m going to be in the area, why not drop in on my favourite brother?”

“Why not,” Molly repeated, a little thinly, “Without calling or sending a letter or anything to let me know you’d be stopping by…”

Caleb winced a little at the undercurrent of annoyance underneath his love’s voice but Kingsley only laughed, like it was a joke.

“C’mon, you know that’s not how I work, Moll. I never know where I’m going to be heading or when. I’m just glad I got to see you! Especially seeing as apparently you got married since I last saw you? And popped out two kids, what the hell?”

“Una is adopted,” Molly mumbled, like that was the important point.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kingsley continued brightly, now smiling wide enough that Caleb caught the wink of a gold tooth, “I mean, you’re easily the most responsible out of all of us but still, married with kids, that's actually insane…”

Caleb’s eyebrows rose. He adored his husband but one thing he’d never be able to call him was responsible. Molly caught the movement from where he was sitting next to Kingsely and his cheekbones coloured.

Feeling a sudden stab of guilt, a sudden need to rush to Molly’s defence after he’d done it for him, Caleb blurted out, “Mollymauk is a great dad.”

Kingsley looked over to him, smiling crookedly, “I bet. He was always running around after me and Luce, making sure we didn’t get into trouble...well, as much trouble, I guess. Hey! Have you heard from Lucy lately, Moll? I haven’t spoken to him even longer than I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Molly tensed instantly at the question, jaw growing taut like a bowstring, his quietly simmering frustration igniting into full blown, barely concealed fury.

“I don’t speak to Lucien,” was all he said, voice tight and tense and, above all, final.

Even Kingsley seemed to pick up on that, backpedalling quickly, “Sure, sure...so where are these sprogs of yours, then? I’m so excited to meet them...”

“Yasha offered to take them for a few hours after I realised we had our unexpected guest,” Molly bit off the end of the sentence sharply, clearly struggling to maintain his control. He shook his head tightly, standing up and sighing, “Excuse me…”

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, finally falling silent as he watched his brother disappear in a swirl of his coat. Caleb didn’t hesitate, getting to his feet and moving after him, throwing Kingsley an apologetic glance.

“I’ll just, uh...see what he needs.”

Kingsley just nodded, flashing him a quick smile that didn’t quite shine as bright as his other ones, then just staring into his drink. Frumpkin jumped up next to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

In the kitchen, Caleb found Molly with his head in his hands, in the middle of a long, deep breath. Caleb tried to remember everything his husband did for him when he got overwhelmed, coming up behind him and gently wrapping his arms around his middle. Instantly he felt Molly lean into his touch, aching into it.

“I’m an asshole,” he heard him groan, muffled by his palms.

“You’re not,” Caleb murmured into his purple curls.

“I am,” Molly dropped his hands, “Gods, I haven’t seen my brother in years and he comes here and I didn’t even tell my husband or my kids about him, what does that make me look like to him? To you?”

Caleb shrugged, “It was a bit of a surprise...um, why didn’t you tell us? Just out of curiosity…”

Molly turned in his arms, pressing his face to the curve of his neck, having to bend as Caleb was just a little shorter than him. It was long enough that Caleb had accepted he wasn’t ready to talk about it, content just to hold him and let it pass, but then he felt him murmur.

“I hardly ever see him. He’s a pirate with the Revelry, he’s always off sailing somewhere and...and I try, I used to try but he never replies and I’d spend ninety percent of the time having no clue where he was before he’d just pop up suddenly and I’d have to bend my life around him for however long he’d stay and then have him just run off again…”

“And...Lucien?” Caleb asked hesitantly, “He’s your brother too?”

Molly moved back, eyes suddenly solid and serious, “Caleb, I need you to promise me, if you ever hear anything from Lucien, if you ever see him or he contacts you, you ignore him completely and you come straight to tell me. Don’t let him get anywhere near the kids, don’t listen to a word he says, just ignore him and find me. Understand?”

Caleb swallowed hard, more than a little taken aback, he’d never seen Molly like this, “I promise.”

At that, Molly relaxed a little, “He just...he’s not a good man, Caleb. He’s in deep with this cult shit, just...we’re having nothing to do with him anymore.”

Caleb nodded but a question was pressing irritatingly at the base of his tongue, wanting to push forward, as much as he worried it would upset Molly. His husband noticed, reading his face as easily as he ever had, a tired but fond smile chasing the last of the severity off his face.

“Go on then,” he prompted gently, “Ask me.”

Caleb almost groaned in relief as he nearly blurted, “How do you know they’re your brothers?”

Molly gave a rough laugh, “You mean aside from the obvious, that they look enough like me that you sucked Kingsely’s face thinking it was mine?”

Caleb’s face went up like flashpaper as he started to splutter, “It was an accident!”

Molly grinned, looking a little more like himself, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, “I get it, babe, don’t worry, I’ll take an IOU...but I get what you mean. You’re right, I don’t actually remember growing up with them, I don’t remember actually being their brother. And that’s kind of why it kind of hurts having him around, honestly.”

Caleb nodded sympathetically, “So they just sort of showed up after you woke up again?”

“Yeah,” Molly huffed out a laugh that didn’t have much humour in it, “Imagine you’re just walking down the street one day and some guy with your own face runs up to you and hugs you so hard it knocks you off your feet.”

“I can see how that would be...disconcerting?”

“Somewhat,” Molly sighed, moving to look at his reflection in the microwave door, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his makeup, “Kingsley just...he’s a sweet enough guy even if he is a flit but...when he looks at me he sees this big brother he thought he’d lost, someone who apparently looked after him and ran around after him and held things together for him. Someone I absolutely am not. And he can’t seem to get it through his skull that I can’t be that person.”

Caleb gently but firmly stepped in front of Molly, taking his hands in his own. He didn’t seem to realise how badly they were shaking.

Molly gripped his fingers tightly, like he was holding on for dear life, like he hadn’t even realised how deep the water around him was until Caleb reached out.

“Honestly,” his voice was a shaky exhale, “I’m kind of glad he doesn’t stick around. He’d realise his brother’s gone for good.”

Caleb took a moment to consider his words, wanting desperately to say the right thing, willing his brain to kick into gear and let him help.

“Maybe if he met you now he’d realise he liked the brother he has?” he murmured gently, running his thumbs soothingly across Molly’s knuckles, “I am biased but I think you’re pretty fantastic.”

Molly smiled softly, leaning forward until he was resting his forehead on Caleb’s, “Thanks…”

“I don’t think you need to pretend to be anyone else,” Caleb promised, shifting slightly so he could press his lips to his forehead. It wasn’t quite the kiss he was imagining but he could tell it made Molly feel better and that was all that mattered.

Maybe so he couldn’t lose his nerve, Molly quickly returned the favour with a gentle kiss to the cheek and moved back into the living room. Caleb decided it was best to give them a moment, making a cup of tea of his own. He lingered over it, holding the warmth between his hands, watching the light outside of their small window turn from the full, deep orange of sunset to a cool blue.

Only then did he pad into the living room, not entirely sure what he was going to find. Of course he trusted Mollymauk but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little prepared to break up a fight. He mentally catalogued the components in his pockets, just in case.

But when he stuck his head around the corner, there were no flying feathers or drawn swords. The two Tealeafs were sat on the sofa together, Kingsley in the middle of another ramble, hands moving through the air as he gestured widley. Molly had an expression of bemusement and vague surprise.

“-and I was thinking I could show them how to tie knots, I swear man, you don’t even know how many godsdamned knots there are,” Kingsley was saying, eyes alight with excitement, “And maybe, if it was okay with you and Red obviously, I could take em out on the ship sometime! Just a little day trip and you guys could come too, there’s a place where you can always see dolphins and there’s seals and I even saw a whale once! Kids would be into that, right? Kids like animals, don’t they?”

For the first time, Kingsley looked something other than blithely amused. For the first time, a kind of hopeless uncertainty edged into his eyes.

Molly clearly caught it, something in him softening, “You...you really want to spend time with my kids?”

“Of course I do!” Kingsley blinked, “I mean, okay, I’ve not been the best brother on the planet but I’m an uncle now. Like, I’m someone’s actual uncle! That’s the most incredible thing and I just really want to do a good job at it. I want them to like me.”

For a moment, Molly looked startled, like he hadn’t expected him to say that. But once it had sunken in, his face cracked into a smile.

“I’ll be honest, Kingsley, I don’t think you’re going to have to work that hard to get them to like you. You’ll see.”

Kingsley looked like that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, his face lighting up like the dawn.

“And look,” Molly shrugged, “You’re not a shitty brother or anything just...just call more, damn it.”

“Okay, I promise,” Kingsley was back to laughing, looking like he was a second away from pouncing on Molly and hugging him, “I mean, I'm gonna be checking in with my little niece and nephew all the time, right?”

“Yeah,” Molly grinned back at him, “I guess you will.”

For all the broken teeth, they really did have the exact same smile.

Caleb leaned against the doorway, eyes warm as he watched them, as he watched Kingsely loudly announce that he’d even brought a present for his new family members before pulling an entire cutlass out of a holster neither of them had noticed under his coat, as he watched Molly choke down a laugh and start to explain why, as cool as they’d find it, a pirate sword really wasn’t an appropriate gift for two toddlers.

None of this had been on his list. But there was something to be said for surprises.

#modern au #widomauk #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #kingsley tealeaf #critical role #please comment!

47 notes · View notes

iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

A fic in which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns how to be a person.

Chapter Summary: The sands of time stop for no one, and the Nein eventually go back to their separate lives. Caleb grapples with the responsibilities of his new position, invents the support group, and Astrid gives him some rather unsettling news.

Notes: Caleb and Essek's scene together is a little spicy, but not explicit. Chapter title is from In the Embers by Sleeping At Last.

*** Chapter 5: Like fireworks we pull apart the dark

Caleb was smiling when he got back home. Veth aimed her crossbow at him.

“Quick! Tell me something only Caleb would say!”

Caleb sighed and held up his hands in surrender; he should have expected this. “You almost inscribed a rune upside-down today. I lent you my spellbook.”

“I don’t know, man,” said Beauregard, lounging across Yasha on the couch and completely fucking with them. “An imposter could’ve interrogated Caleb and forced him to recount his day. Caleb is pretty squishy.” Caleb almost reminded her he had been taught to withstand torture, which he’d first told explictly her while compiling his testimony for Trent’s trial, but he didn’t want to ruin her fun.

“Oh, that’s very smart,” Yasha said.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Say something else,” Veth demanded. “Something not from today. How did we meet?”

“In prison. You stole a bottle of cherry wine. I had Frumpkin retrieve a piece of wire so you could pick the lock and then I set the jail on fire and screamed for help. The guards ran away and we walked out. We have been best friends ever since. You were also a goblin at the time.”

“But wouldn’t an imposter have asked about Caleb’s known associates?” Fjord supplied.

“Fjord, I can and will burn your hair off. And, unlike Aeor, it will not grow back overnight.”

“Ha!” Veth put her crossbow away. “Welcome back. Sit down. Cad’s making tea again.” She dragged him over to the blanket nest that no one had bothered to put away, and shoved him in it.

Essek poked his head out of the kitchen. “How was your meeting?”

Caleb didn’t want to get into it. “I took the job.”

“Woo!” Jester yelled from the kitchen. She poked her head out, just next to Essek. “Did Astrid like the cookies?”

“Ja. She says thank you.” Caleb felt fine, except from the fact he was fucking exhausted. He tipped his head back, landing on Beau’s shin, and closed his eyes. “Uh, Beauregard? She says to look into Headmaster Zivan Margolin, who is also the Archmage of Conscription. He’s a link to Trent. A weak one. Apparently he has been running his mouth about how he saw my potential from the beginning. Ludinus is uncomfortable with the implication and may throw him to the wolves to save his own neck.”

“I’ll pass it onto Yudala tomorrow. Take a nap while we wait for dinner.”

“The head of your school is also in charge of conscription?” said Fjord. “Wait. You’ve said this before.”

“A long time ago, ja.”

“Look, I’m only a few months old,” said Kingsley, who had been sprawled behind the couch the whole time, apparently. “And even I know that’s kinda fucked up.”

“No shit.” Caleb was half-sleep already, eyes closed. A small body curled up against him. Veth.

“Caleb, that’s really awful,” said Jester. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jester, I appreciate that, and I love you very much, but I am exhausted and cannot talk about this anymore.”

Caduceus saved him by bringing a tea tray into the room. “Let’s all unwind for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Caleb drank half his tea and fell asleep on Beauregard, who had to kick him awake for dinner. Well had to was a strong way to put it. Regardless, he shoved some food in his face and then went to bed with Essek.

****

Astrid sent him tidbits of information as more details of his professorship were finalised. He would assist Professor Weber with the beginner and intermediate Transmutation classes. He would also assist Professor Winterheart with the beginner Evocation class, due to his experience. He would also be on call to assist with other classes as necessary.

What really shook Caleb, however, were Bettina’s plans for Advanced Transmutation. She told him herself over coffee in the ex-smut shop.

“Astrid has assured me of your capabilities,” she said, stirring sugar into her mug. “And she’s of the mind that the Advanced students may need your guidance the most. You may end up with a few former Volstrucker students, if we can get them back in class.”

“That is a big if.”

“Ja. Would you talk to Astrid about it? I don’t want to overstep.”

“It has been on my mind. I will talk to her.” If Caleb hadn’t been dead on his feet last time they had spoken, he probably would have brought it up. It would take time to track all of them down, and Caleb had not been in the right headspace to handle that kind of work previously. But things were more stable now, even if he cried at the drop of a hat these days.

“Danke. Now, Advanced Transmutation. The advanced students start on the third week of term, so you will have had some time to find your feet. I want you to take the lead with them.”

“Bitte?” Caleb wasn’t sure he understood what she was telling him.

“I want you to teach the advanced students,” Bettina clarified. “I will be on hand if you need, but I think you can handle it once you have a few classes under your belt.”

“Bettina, I have no experience.” Caleb was about three wrong words from hyperventilating. This was ridiculous. And irresponsible.

“I know that’s not true, Mr Widogast. Sorry, Professor Widogast.” The slip was deliberate. Bettina used his first name most of the time. She was making a point of his new title. “Astrid has spoken to your expositor friend, who said you have been teaching magic to one of your friends for over a year, and that you helped her run a summer camp for adventurers in Nicodranas. Expositor Lionett also insists you are very good with children.”

“My friend’s young son, specifically. He is not a difficult child.” Well, Luc was a handful for his parents, but Caleb didn’t have to worry about controlling him like they did. “And… advanced students are teenagers, not toddlers.”

“I understand this is a lot to ask,” Bettina said evenly. “I am asking because some of these children have been through a lot. My inaction, whatever the truth of it, will not instill confidence. You put Trent in prison. You were an adventurer. You can relate to them. Not only can you be a safe person for them, but you are interesting. Teenagers respond best to people who are genuine, and genuinely interesting. Even the children who have not been pulled into Trent’s web have just been through a war. Some of them may have lost family.”

“Bettina, I appreciate you are trying to explain your reasons, but it is not helping.”

“I will be there in class for as long as you need my help,” Bettina promised. “I will only leave when you are ready. I promise. You can ask for help at any time. I will help you with your lesson plans and give you all the advice I can. You will be fine. I would not suggest this if I thought you couldn’t handle it.”

****

Caleb went back home after his meeting with Bettina. He was still worried, but he was having a decent day overall, so it wasn’t overwhelming him at the moment. He stepped inside Beau and Yasha’s side of the house, the scent of freshly baked bread filling his nostrils. It was almost lunchtime.

Most of the Nein had gone home by now, except Essek and Caduceus. They were in the kitchen with Yasha, inspecting a fresh loaf of bread on the counter. The top of it was sprinkled with rolled oats.

“I think it worked,” Caduceus said. “Ah, Caleb. Rye bread? Does it look right to you?”

It smelled like the Vollkornbrot Caleb remembered from his childhood. “Ja. This looks close to what my mother used to make.”

Yasha and Caduceus high-fived over Essek’s head. Essek’s nose wrinkled a little bit in a moment of endearing, petty irritation. Yasha cut the bread into slices and constructed a sandwich to take to Beau, who was at the Archive. She buttered a slice and shoved it into her mouth before she rushed out the door.

Caleb sat with Essek and Caduceus. The latter finished serving up the bread with a generous spread of butter.

“Did you start this last night?” Caleb asked. It was chewy as intended and tasted like home, maybe a tiny bit saltier, but that was fine.

“Yeah,” replied Caduceus. “You were pretty out of it. We looped Essek in once you were out of the house this morning. This one seems doable for Yasha to make without us. You might have to help her.”

“I can do that.” He used to help his mother with the bread whenever he was home. The memories were not too painful today, just an ache.

“How was your meeting?” Essek asked. He had been hesitant to leave Rexxentrum until Caleb was a bit more settled, but the hourglass was almost drained of sand.

“Good, I think.” Caleb chewed, mulling the whole thing over. “Professor Weber is giving me her advanced transmutation students.”

“You look worried,” said Caduceus.

“I am. It’s a lot of responsibility. She thinks the older students need me the most. As a safe person. I was their age when I… when everything went to shit. She thinks we may have a few survivors of the program in the class, and other students will have lost family in the war.”

Essek’s shoulders slumped. He ate quietly.

“And the Professor doesn't think she can be that person?”

“She insists she didn’t know what Trent was doing, but she expects the survivors will only see the face of someone who didn’t help them.”

“That is very self-aware of her. Do you feel that way?”

“No. But I’m not seventeen years old.”

“True. Well, I think you have the tools to help the kids, if you feel up to it.”

“I… maybe. Bettina said she’ll help me in class until I don’t need her anymore.”

Caduceus nodded slowly, with a smile. “You’ll be great.”

****

Essek and Caduceus had dinner at the house, and intended to spend a few more hours there before teleporting to the Blooming Grove, where Essek would trance before heading off in the morning, only short of one big spell instead of two. Caleb almost wanted to ask him to burn a second spell to trance here instead, but he knew Essek found the Grove calming. And one of the few places he didn’t have to worry about the Dynasty or the Empire. Caleb wouldn’t take that from him.

But they had a bit of time, which Caleb and Essek spent in their room together. Caleb let a few of his dancing lights float around the space, so he could see Essek for the last time in who knew how long.

“You were better today,” Essek said softly, slowly unbuttoning Caleb’s shirt.

Caleb watched him concentrate on the buttons, memorising his tiny frown that also graced his face when focusing on intricate spellwork. “Being here is getting easier. Thank you for the bread.”

Essek chuckled softly. “I did very little.” He pushed Caleb’s shirt off his shoulders. “But I’m glad it made you happy.”

“The best bread is the kind made by someone I love.” He shivered a little in the cold. Essek pressed his lips to Caleb’s shoulder, remaining there as the seconds ticked away. Caleb got to work on Essek’s shirt, finding the strings on the back through sheer muscle memory. He picked the bow apart and slowly unravelled the lacing. He pulled Essek’s shirt over his head and kissed his collarbone.

They had a few more hours. Caleb intended to treasure every second Essek could give him.

Essek pulled Caleb’s ponytail free and ran his fingers through the braids he had made that morning until they twisted apart. He cradled Caleb’s head as they kissed. Vulnerability between them had been hard won, and now it was as easy as breathing. Easier, sometimes.

They separated, and Essek slowly dragged his thumb across Caleb’s lower lip. “I will message you every day I can.”

“You better. Or I will hunt you down.”

Essek smirked, and it did things to Caleb. “And if I misbehave? Will you give me detention, Professor?”

“Essek, I love you, but never say that again.” Caleb shut him up with another kiss. “I do not want one of my last memories of you to be… that.”

“Not so adventurous after all,” Essek teased.

“We are not bringing our professions into the bedroom. That will not go well for either of us.”

“Hmm.” Essek’s eyes were distant for a moment. “You are… not wrong. Whenever I hear the word Shadowhand, I think of my mother.”

“Could be worse,” Caleb said dryly.

Essek wrinkled his nose. “Yes. Well. That has killed the mood.”

“I can fix that. May I?”

Essek sat back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Do your worst.”

“Challenge accepted,” Caleb murmured. He shoved Essek onto his back, straddling his hips. Essek was a lot smaller than Caleb, though the force of his personality and his floating cantrip had once hidden that reality. Now, however… Caleb could keep Essek in place with his weight alone. And Essek liked it when he used that objective fact to their benefit.

Essek’s lips parted, and it took him ten seconds of shallow breaths to find his voice. “Challenge completed,” he said breathlessly.

“It’s one of my many skills, Liebchen.” Caleb knew his voice became extra husky when aroused, and he knew how much it broke Essek’s brain.

Essek opened his mouth again, but nothing came out except a soft, breathy laugh. He reached up and pulled Caleb’s hair until Caleb leaned down and kissed him hard. The throaty mmph noise from Essek was satisfying as fuck. It was very easy to get Essek aroused at the right moment. The harder part was finding that moment. He was sensitive to Caleb’s emotions, and it was hard for him to get in the mood if he had even the slightest inkling Caleb was not having a good day. For now, at least, it meant what sex they did have only happened under the best circumstances. It was a far cry from the last relationship Caleb had been in, where most of the sex had been after a bad day, all three of them on the brink of falling apart.

Caleb pulled back a little bit to lightly brush his fingernails across the sensitive skin of Essek’s lower abdomen, just above his remaining clothing. Essek’s breath hitched.

“Caleb. Please.” Essek was flushing red beneath the purple of his skin, turning it a lovely plum tone. Caleb kissed his stomach, and slowly undressed him like a long-anticipated present he was afraid to break. Essek squirmed beneath him, no matter how hard he tried to hold still to make the job easier.

“What do you want, Kätzchen?” Caleb said quietly, stroking the inside of Essek’s bare thigh. Caleb never used terms of endearment like this in casual conversation. He liked to save it for special moments, specifically because he knew it broke Essek’s brain very badly to be called things like kitten or sweetheart in Caleb’s own tongue.

Essek let out a shaky breath; his violet-blue eyes were half-lidded and he was out of his fucking mind. “I want… anything. Everything. You. I can’t think.”

“I know,” Caleb said, sliding off the bed, just out of Essek’s reach. “I like it that way.” He slowly unfastened his pants, watching Essek twitch in a half-aborted attempt to move closer to him. “Stay right there.” He let them drop, kicked them aside, finished undressing. He lingered out of reach until Essek bit his lip, gazing up at him with a silent plea. Only then did Caleb climb back onto the bed, settling between Essek’s shaking legs. “Let me take care of you, ja?”

Caleb caught Essek’s lips in a messy, breathless kiss as their bodies fit together at long last.

Later, they lay together under the covers. Caleb had extinguished his lights. Essek could see him perfectly well. Caleb had almost left the lights on so he could drink in Essek’s features for a little while longer, but he was sluggish and borderline mindless from his most recent orgasm. He would rather spend what little concentration he had on running his fingers across Essek’s features so he had a few more memories to keep him warm until they could meet again.

“I will stay until you fall asleep,” Essek said softly. “Then, I will message you tomorrow after I leave the Grove.”

Caleb hummed quietly, not trusting his voice beyond that. This goodbye was hard every time.

“I’m proud of you, Caleb.” Essek kissed him, and then pressed their foreheads together. “You will be an incredible teacher. You already are.” Caleb swallowed against a lump in his throat. He was not going to cry. He was not going to make this harder for Essek than it needed to be.

Somehow, he managed to find his voice. “I finally had a good example.”

Essek chuckled softly. “That may be the one thing in my life I did right.”

“It’s an important thing you did right, but not the only one.” Caleb found his hand, twining their fingers together. His grip would slacken in sleep, letting Essek extract himself without too much difficulty.

“I try to remember that. Thank you. Get some sleep.”

Caleb didn’t want to close his eyes, knowing Essek wouldn’t be there in the morning. But Essek had to leave sometime, and he was giving Caleb every moment he could spare. So Caleb closed his eyes and relaxed into the pillow.

“I love you, Essek.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

Sometimes they didn’t need to say it. It was always true, whether or not they put it into words. Tonight, however, they both felt just a little more fragile, a little more vulnerable, and the words helped.

And then Caleb slept. The last thing he remembered was Essek’s fingers dancing sweetly in his hair.

****

Waking alone, Caleb tried not to be too dour in the morning, but given Yasha kept trying to find things around the house to keep him busy, he was clearly not doing a good job. He had to meet with Astrid (and probably Wulf) later in the day to discuss work some more, and he needed to bring up the Volstrucker survivors. Maybe Astrid had already been working on contacting them, but it wasn’t clear. It needed to be.

For now, however, he let Yasha drag him out to the garden. He liked having his hands in the soil, coaxing life out of the earth. After dealing so much death in this world, it was nice to put life back into it. He knew Yasha felt the same. It also let him reminisce about some of his less painful memories of home. Planting green beans with his mother.

It was also a little easier to bask in the afterglow of last night out here in the sun.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Yasha asked. Caleb was glad Beauregard was already at work. She wouldn’t tease him, but he knew she would have to restrain herself.

“Ja,” Caleb said quietly.

“He’s soft with you. It’s lovely.” She watched him, and she saw a little too well. “You miss him.”

“A lot, ja.”

“You’re good for each other,” she said. “I’m glad you have him, even if it’s not all the time.”

Caleb knew his smile was incredibly sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Me too.”

Essek’s Sending reached him in that moment. “Hello, love. I have arrived at my destination in one piece. A little further away than intended, but unharmed. How’s your morning?” A slight pause. “I love you.” Ah, he’d realised he had three words left.

Full of warmth from the sun and Essek’s word economy, Caleb responded, “Hallo, Essek. Glad you are safe. I am gardening with Yasha.” She waved. “She says hi. We had leftover bread for breakfast. Talk soon. Love you, too.”

“That’s very sweet, Caleb.”

He chuckled, and it sounded a little more fragile than he would’ve liked. “Careful. I will start crying again.”

“Hey, that’s okay. I’ve been crying a lot, too. I think it’s a good thing.”

Maybe. Caleb found it too unsettling to have that view on it. He stood up from the ground, knees damp with morning dew, and dusted the grass off his trousers. Establishing a garden here, and actually putting his own hands in the dirt this time, felt permanent. Unless something went very wrong, they were going to be here for a long time.

Yasha hadn’t had a stable home for years, either. And she also had awful violence and loss baked into her past, and terrifying blank patches in her memory. It was easy to spend quiet time with her, because they understood each other in a way the others sometimes couldn’t.

They enjoyed a quiet cup of tea on the steps linking the back door to the garden. Yasha was partway through repairing the fence back here, and she insisted on working with it alone; magic would end the project too quickly.

The sun reflected in her whitening hair, glowing like the radiance inside her. She deserved all the gentle mornings; she wore them well. Yasha gazed out at the barest beginnings of their garden, and she smiled.

“This suits you,” Caleb said.

“I’m getting used to it,” she replied softly. “After so long, I get to just be a…” She caught herself. “Well. I’m not a wife.”

“For now.”

She chuckled. “For now. It’s nice here. I get to bake bread, and grow a little garden, and welcome the people I love when they come home. And I get to love whoever I want. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“You deserve it. You deserve peace.”

Yasha smiled into her teacup. “Beau tells me that every day. I think I’m starting to believe it. What about you?”

A short question, with a complicated answer. “Sometimes. I do not know if I will ever feel like I deserve this without reservation. It is getting easier. Having a mission helps, I think.”

“We can do this,” Yasha told him. She said it quietly, but with every ounce of determination she had. Yasha had a lot. Caleb was struck by her soft strength, as he often was. Letting oneself be gentle after years of violence and pain was one of the hardest things to do. Caleb knew that all too well.

Caleb held out his fist, and she bumped it. “Ja, we got this.”

And he actually believed it. If only a little bit.

****

Caleb had an easier time walking into Soltryce Academy this time. Starting from a far more energised and calm place than last time carried him through the memories. Entering Astrid’s office was still a little painful, but he was strong enough to handle it.

Astrid and Wulf were seated in armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading. There was a pile on the table between them, and evident gaps on the bookshelves. They had rarely gotten to read books from Trent’s personal collection. The silent fuck you was vindicating, even vicariously.

“The old man had some interesting material,” Astrid said in Zemnian, skipping over the pleasantries. They didn’t need them at this point. She messaged him frequently enough that it felt like they were simply picking up a briefly dropped conversation. They usually spoke Zemnian when they did not have non-speakers to contend with, and Wulf followed suit. They would occasionally borrow a word or phrase from Common if the sentiment worked better.

Wulf snorted. “Pretty dry reading. You’ll like it, Bren.”

Caleb shrugged. “Once a nerd, always a nerd.”

Wulf set the book on the table, stretching; his shirt rode up a little bit and Caleb kept his eyes on his face with a great deal of effort. “If you want more colourful reading, the smut shop you were asking about is on the north side of the market.”

“Kingsley asked me.”

“Uh-huh,” Wulf said flatly.

“Listen, you cannot flirt with all my friends and then take that tone with me.”

“Just did.”

Caleb resisted the somewhat mild urge to scream. Wulf and Astrid were both very good at putting him off-balance, in very different ways. “Whatever makes you happy, Wulf. Astrid, can we talk about Advanced Transmutation? I am going to explode if I don’t talk about this in the next ten seconds.”

Astrid had been watching his exchange with a cocked eyebrow, but she smoothed out her expression and gestured towards a third armchair, closer to the fire.

He sat down, holding one hand out towards the warmth. “Astrid, I say this with all the respect in the world: what the fuck?”

“The advanced classes are in a delicate situation,” Astrid replied. “Professor Weber and I want as many of the Volstrucker program survivors back in school as possible. You are a better person to work with them than Bettina, and with any students who lost loved ones in the war. She told you her reasons, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Aside from my lack of qualifications and the fact I never technically graduated from the Academy?”

“Bren, your practical experience outweighs all of that. Bettina will help you with the rest.”

“Astrid suggested you take the advanced students,” Wulf said casually, leafing through another tome as if he wasn’t throwing a bomb into the conversation.

Caleb felt an ache in his gut, and he had to close his eyes and compose himself. “Astrid. Why?”

“The Academy is about to throw those children into the world,” she replied quietly. “Whatever lessons you wish to impart, you have to impart them now. Not only that, but Bettina is not well-suited to teach survivors of the Volstrucker program. She has spent her entire life in the Academy. They will not take her seriously. Some may resent her for not doing something about the abuse happening right under her nose. She told you that.”

“How many survivors do you expect we will have?” asked Caleb.

“I am still trying to track them down,” Astrid replied, with an edge of frustration.

“I was meaning to talk to you about the Volstrucker.” Caleb had been racking his brain whenever he had the time and energy. There was no formal infrastructure to support the survivors of the program. If Caleb hadn’t met Veth, and then later the Nein, things could have gone very badly for him in so many different ways.

“Talk,” Astrid said.

“These people need help,” he said. “Unless we get that mental health support I asked for, we are effectively on our own. Even if the Assembly throws us crumbs, nobody can understand what it was like except others like us. We need to talk to each other. Regularly, if possible.”

Wulf’s eyes stopped scanning the page. “Do you really think Volstrucker will want to talk to each other about this shit?”

“Who else is there?” Caleb said plainly. “They--we deserve the chance to support each other. Regular meetings, if we can. A support group, I suppose. Low pressure. Just a group of people who understand each other going through yet another upheaval in a life filled with them.”

Astrid watched him closely, eyes narrowed in thought. “Interesting. I think I understand where this idea came from.”

“We got each other through a lot back in the day,” said Caleb. “But we weren’t equipped for it. There was no blueprint for what we were to each other, but we did our best. Until it wasn’t enough. And later, I had the Nein. I would not be here without them. I owe them everything. Not everyone has people like that.”

“I’ll find us a place and let you know,” Astrid said.

“Thank you.” Caleb had expected he would be a little emotional about it, so at least he was prepared to ward off tears. “Thank you so much.”

Astrid averted her eyes, gazing into the fire. “As for your job, most of the children in the program have been located. Some of their parents have pulled them out of school. I am… trying to talk them out of that. The last thing we need are traumatised, half-trained adolescents running around unchecked.”

Caleb was hung up on her wording. Most of the children had been found. “There are some unaccounted for?”

“Two. Felix and Nicolaus. They’re both seventeen.” Astrid didn’t need to point out why their age was a problem.

There was no time to panic; Caleb needed details. “What do we know about them?”

“I worked with them a little,” Astrid replied. “They are close, not unlike the three of us at their age. If we find one, we may find the other. They are from Blumenthal. The Crownsguard are keeping an eye out, but I do not trust them to handle this with the care this situation requires.”

“Specialisations?”

“Both Evocation.”

Caleb didn’t need to say aloud how bad this could be. Two missing Evocation wizards, on the edge of graduating the Volstrucker program, who had possibly had their memories modified and orders distributed. It had been a few months since Trent would have last had contact with them. The worst could already have happened. Then again, Caleb had been in Blumenthal not that long ago to visit his parents, and he hadn’t heard anything that would have given him pause.

“I was in Blumenthal a few weeks ago,” Caleb said. “If they followed through on an order, it was likely after that. I’d… like to think I would have noticed otherwise. Most people seem to agree that I am rather intelligent.” The dry humour probably wasn’t appropriate in this moment, but he needed to keep himself calm and sarcasm usually worked a treat. “In more recent times, I would assume word would have gotten back to you. Maybe we are not too late.”

“Optimism is a new look for you, Bren,” said Wulf.

Caleb would never call himself an optimist, but he could see why Wulf was uncomfortable, even if he hid it behind one part sarcasm and one part a veiled flirt. “Wulf, I have seen a lot of things in this past year alone that have… changed me. There was a time, not too long ago, when I did not expect to survive the week. And… look at us now. We are sitting here in Astrid’s office, reading Trent’s old books because he is stuck in a dark hole and cannot do anything to us. I spent the morning gardening with Yasha. My friends bought me a quilt because it reminded me of my mother. Things are better for me than they have been in a very long time. So, I am trying new things, like having hope sometimes.”

“Point taken,” Wulf murmured, averting his eyes. Tense. Uncomfortable.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the boys,” Astrid said. “Whatever happens… I think you should be there.

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #professor widogast #essek thelyss #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #yasha nydoorin #fanfiction #critical role #cr2 #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

32 notes · View notes

pyroclaststan · 3 years

Text

The Reveal

CW: cursing—younger Kingsley used to curse up a storm outside the stutter, soft shit

Your left hand busies itself with your coffee, an almost-burn from the heat seeping through the cardboard holder, scalding in a way you can handle and appreciate.

Your free hand clenches. Unclenches. Clenches. An old song and dance that will never leave you; a reflex you can’t shake. You would start another internal diatribe about how that’s going to get you killed or found out one day, but your mind is too busy to start a fight: even with you.

Your shields are up, held close and tight to keep out the majority of the hive that moves through the city. Small stretches of the mind now and then assure you that you’re not being watched, but you always retreat quickly before you accidentally latch onto some feeling or thought that might drain you before your day has even begun. So far the coast has been clear, but that means nothing when it comes to the kind of people you’re hiding from.

The woman on the opposite end of the patio having coffee with her friends is glancing at you again over the lip of her mug. You sense no deception, no recognition… why does she keep looking at you? Small smiles your way you’re not used to receiving. Hunching down a little, you politely push her focus back to her friends, leaving behind the feeling that she’d mistaken you for someone else: you’re simply a kind old lady enjoying some tea. Keeping a mental watch on her, she is quietly fed small bits of supporting emotions until her group leaves.

An unbidden shudder climbs up your spine, so you tighten your grip into a tight fist as if you could physically wring it out if not mentally. Again and again, as always: the stress, anxiety, every bit of nerves—all compiling and in overdrive. Today is the day. The light pain of nails into palm takes the edge off before you sink into a spiral of thoughts about this decision. You take a drink to ease your mood.

“You’re late, Chrysantamum!” a voice calls out from behind you, startling you mid-sip of said scalding hot coffee.

“Fucking fuck!” you spew, your customary curse half garbled by liquid.

Luckily, your hands are fast enough to pull the cup away and mitigate most of the damage: just a burnt tongue and throat for you. Some light coffee spots for your clothes. A bundle of napkins takes care of those and the spill on the table.

That ridiculous name alone tells you who got the jump on you, let alone the fact that someone got the jump on you at all with your vigilance.

Ricardo Ortega.

At least you can say he learned not to jump out and surprise you from the front—you can proudly say he knows better after that kick he took to the chest… and the various incidents after. And he’s been apparently been experimenting with your name now that he’s learned that, too.

Delightful.

You suppress the collection of biting words and spicy curses you come up with in response to him, once again quietly regretting you ever gave him a name at all. More so, regretting that once you turn around, he will finally see your face.

Why, for the love of any and every deity you could pull from your repertoire, did you agree to this? Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile—you know this, but here you are: ever forward ever deathward towards his orbit. Your sigh comes from a depth you didn’t realise you had in you. There might have been a little Steel channeled into it, if you’re honest.

You can’t say you’re surprised Ricardo knew it was you. This is specifically the address you were supposed to meet at, he’s noticed a few curls poke out from under your mask when your hair wasn’t braided, and even with you sitting he’s learned your signature slouch by now. ‘Fucking fuck’ probably isn’t an everyday curse either, but who’s to say?

Looking down, the clothes on your back are also a dead giveaway. A decently okay grey button down that was liberated from Ortega’s locker at Ranger’s HQ, the skinsuit that anyone else would mistake for a turtleneck peeking out from the sleeves and collar, an ages old hoodie hole-filled and sun bleached on the back of your chair, your secondhand high-water dress pants not quite long enough for your lanky legs, and your ratty old stompers bear laces in a telltale Ranger blue—courtesy of Anathema.

Of the few things you paid attention to today you made sure you didn’t give Ortega the ego boost of wearing the Charge laces they’d also gotten you, though you hope he doesn’t notice the earring out of the many lining your ears. They’re stacked with studs instead of rings today, in case you need to slip your mask on and make an escape. You should’ve have by now.

You are a particular brand of patchworked charity both subtle and recognisable to the favoured few who get to know you. Today is the day they’ll get to know you. Again, you remind yourself how much you already regret it. You hope you’re a decent enough ‘you’ for them to get to know.

Right hand into your thick curls you pull silently at a coil, reminding yourself that this is you here, and eventually that’s got to be enough for someone. Even if it’s never going to be for enough you. You idly ponder what colour your new braids should be as a self-distraction tactic before slipping your hand out and deciding to crumple up a napkin instead, fiddling with the texture of it. One stim for another as you wait out your impending doom.

Ortega’s steps grow louder as he gets closer, telltale modded weight in each step, and your cheeks begin to heat up at the approach, the buzz of his mind coming into staticky focus. Ha! There’s a new nervousness building now, and a little panic? Or rather, a touch of anxiety over your looks—he’s rubbing off on you in the worst ways. But you can’t hide the thought: if he doesn’t like what he sees? He’s only ever known you—and kissed you—with your mask on. You never care to care how you look; you’ve never tried to dress in any way that wasn’t covert and unassuming.

Damn it. You remember you forgot your cap.

Yours, not the Rangers one Anathema also got you (always buying you merch in a heavy-handed gesture) that you pointedly only wear when Chen is around, always over your mask.

He hates it, you love that he hates it. You wish he’d like—

The Steel-related thoughts you have on that note are mashed down before they can even bubble up. No time for that molotov cocktail of clusterfuck.

This meet-up has been planned for nearly a month, allowing you time to stake out a place, begin preparations, and come up with ample excuses to back out. You didn’t.

Idiot.

You made Ortega swear on his life that he would keep your face out of the papers, off the net, and completely unaffiliated with anything having to do with him. The front of his shirt was in dire need of dry cleaning by the time you finally let go of it, losing your nervous edge once the deal had been done. This is a risk beyond any you’ve ever taken and you’re doing it because you like him enough to try and make your fake life a little more real. Because you like having friends. Fucking fuck.

You make a mental note to have ‘World’s Greatest Idiot’ put into any possible epitaph you may get after this.

A weighted pause. You just realised what he said. How are you late? He’s here an hour after the agreed upon time in classic Ortega fashion. He’d almost be exasperating if he wasn’t so calming at the same time. Stupid static mind, resisting your every touch but giving out just enough feedback to settle you.

Wrapping your annoyance, frustration, and nerves around you like a brittle shield, you gather any venom you have left as a defence mechanism. A hard look very softened by the blush on your freckled bronze cheeks as you hear his steps stop just on the other side of the cafe railing to your left. The white noise of his mind quiets so many of your errant thoughts, and while the impenetrability would usually annoy you, right now it is a soothing reminder than this is, in fact, your best friend beside you.

You pointedly ignore the growing heat in your ears. And cheeks. And throat. And stomach.

“I’m uh, not an expert on interpersonal bullshit, but aren’t nicknames supposed to be sh-shorter than your actual name?” you huff, trying to put as much edge into your voice as you can in your current state.

Finally you turn your head, an annoyed glare in Ricardo’s direction before he can get out his smart ass response. Refusing to be soft, refusing to make this an easy reveal and hopefully showing how completely uncomfortable with all of this you are. How far out on a limb you’re going.

He won’t get it anyway.

And if you did show it, he sure doesn’t respond to it: instead, his face is lit up like a Christmas tree. His eyes dart around so fast, taking in every inch of yours so quick that you fear they may come loose and fly right out of his head. His grin is blinding—amazed and beautiful—and it takes every ounce of self-control for you not to turn away from him or vault the fence and make a run for it. You avoid the temptation to look closer at what you briefly noticed was a very nice, very new suit… as a preventative measure, of course. Can’t let him see you sweat, or, y’know.

The two of you finally make real eye contact but after even a few beats it’s too much for you, so you pointedly look away from his gaze, sipping your coffee and allowing him the privacy to study you while he can. As if being looked at wasn’t already distasteful enough for you, having your features memorised and scrutinised gives you even less pleasure, but at least now he’ll stop pestering you about it. Not at all happy that you wish you could read his mind to find out what he thinks.

No sooner than you have that thought does the soft little ‘mierda’ come from under his breath, making you want to die on the spot—you sincerely hope you’re not becoming a tomato.

“Kingsley Chrysanta,” he half announces, half inquires. Testing the reigns of his newfound knowledge most likely. Placing the name alongside the face in his head, and connecting a string between them like the many on his whiteboard. At his blooming smile your heart speeds up and your stomach does a flip. Id-i-ot!

“Yeah yeah,” you mutter against the rim of your now empty coffee cup, “we get it: you know my whole name now.” You look back at him, holding his line of sight with a half-hearted sneer. “I can do it too, Ricardo Felipe José García Sparkles Ortega. See? We b-both know words.”

He’s got a look of triumph and an even brighter grin on that note, your teasing bouncing right off of his impenetrable shield of sunshine, like he’s happy you memorised his name. Ricardo’s airy laugh is almost mystified, and the exhalation that he lets out is suspiciously soft before he confirms, “It really is you.”

“Got it in one,” you can’t stop your answering smile, suddenly aware of how crooked yours is compared to his. And that halts you. How disheveled and awkward and unreal you are compared to him.

Don’t go there. Not now.

“Your speech is getting better,” he comments softly, carefully. “Looks like me annoying you into talking really is good for you.” His sly smile aimed down at his shoes.

Your speech has been getting better, though that is also a product of your own efforts, not just his: he always thought you said so little for no reason. Taking it slow, smaller sentences, and keeping calm have helped you manage your impediment—you get less frustrated trying to speak. You think less about the fists that gave you the problem in the first place. You ultimately refuse to acknowledge his statement, correct as it may be.

“My point still stands: that’s long for a nickname,” your deflection hopefully going unnoticed. “Don’t you, uh, usually just call me King? What happened to that one?”

He’s much closer now, leaning forward over the barrier in that way that puts him right inside everyone’s bubble: personal, personable. In his defence, however, he’s keeping his hands firmly on the railing, as if to stop the rest of himself from going right over. The twitch on his lips and the white-knuckled grip of his hands are the only clues to how much he’s feigning composure right now—well, that and the static to his mods. But still being patient, still keeping your direct space open, and keeping quiet about whatever is on his mind. Always so kind to you when you need it, and even when you don’t.

“Anyone can call you King: mine’s more personal,” he smiles even wider, nodding like his words are sagely.

“And long,” you frown, complaining just to complain. Being contrarian has been a trusted weapon in the face of Ricardo’s… everything.

“I think it works,” he answers your complaint with a smug look back at you. “Chrysanta, Chrysantamum. Get it?” A bright laugh. “It’s a good pun, with how your hair kind of reminds me of the flower in a way. ‘Cause of all the layers and petals, but instead they’re curls—plus we met in November! That’s that month’s flower, or the flower of that month, and…”

You’re stunned by the rationale he’s giving as he continues to list things off: insight and perception you’ve often accused him of not having. His hands are moving about, his head tilting to and fro, his expressions and gestures and movements all clockwork to you by now. But more importantly: he’s rambling, downright nervous, more focused on counting off on his fingers than looking at you. Suspicious. New. Cute. You focus back onto his words.

“…and it’s when I’ve decided your birthday will be, since you refuse to give me a date,” he finishes while you’re mulling over thoughts, a look in your direction for a reaction.

“Are you calling me a flower?” A frown, not taking any birthday bait.

The faces he makes go on a journey for a few moments before he collects himself with a small exhalation, rubbing at his forehead before dropping his hands into his pockets. He seems a little flushed. Probably not best to stand around in the Los Diablos heat.

A small smile perks up inevitably. “Would it be better if I answer that with the idea that I’m calling you my flower?”

You can’t even hide your groan on that one, responding to his repeatedly lifting brows with a furrow of your own. Half disgust, half embarrassment, all stomach flip.

“Stop! I’ll vomit. Or worse, get a migraine.” You make a face at him and rub your temple, but it only seems to delight him further. Shades of you he’s never seen before being revealed now.

“Right right, not in public.” He gives a conspiratorial wink, rotating left and right on his heels, as bad at staying still as you are—your leg’s been bouncing up a storm and your napkin can’t get much more crumpled. “Anathema should be showing up soon, anyway. We can save our personal stuff for later.”

You absolutely do not colour slightly at the innuendo in that statement, and you assuredly do not glance down at his lips. At this point your skin colour may as well be burgundy.

“Oh, so you gave them the wrong time so you wouldn’t be the last to arrive, huh? Should’ve known something was off when I got to actually enjoy a moment of quiet in this city.”

Aiming quickly, you bullseye him in the forehead with the balled-up napkin.

“Oooh, sassy when your shell’s off: now I get why ‘Thema voted for King Crab instead of the flowers.”

You make a very sour face. He cackles, his whole upper body bending back almost losing balance as he holds his stomach. You immediately reach out and force away the attention of everyone who’s looking to see what’s going on, making them all register the sound further away and from the opposite end of the street.

“Fucking fuck—f-for a nickname? That’s it. I’m moving to San Francisco and getting better friends.”

“That implies anyone else in the world would want to befriend you.” He states gleefully as he jumps out of your reach, dodging your swipe at him as you lunge from your chair.

“I’m sure some single, lonely Ranger up there might also have a th-thing for tall, angry vigilantes.” Your turn for a sly look. “Maybe there’ll be an uh, autumnal wedding—I’d still let you be my best man.”

“Just don’t get mad at me if I object: someone has to act in the groom’s best interest.” He shrugs exaggeratedly, matching your smile and banter.

Reflexive, telepathic pushes make the others on the patio and in the cafe ignore the two of you and your shenanigans. It’s draining, but you can pick up on how quickly your distractions melt away and Ricardo gets recognised again in his public face. You’d almost forgotten about that with the warm buzz of Ortega on your shields and occupying your mind. Dangerous to be so inside your own head that you forget about the ones around you.

Time to get moving then. A quick glance about as you step aside to throw away your empty cup—training telling you to check for exits, hats, and thoughts pointed at you.

“I suppose it would also be too cruel of me to subject, uh, anyone else to your friendship.” You straighten your shirt and pick up your mottled jacket and small bag, adding drama to your sigh as you slip them on to head out.

“Perish the thought: who’d last a day by my side with the trouble we get into?”

“Being your friend will be the death of me, I’m sure.” Funny in a dark way, considering how close you two have come to death together, so many times.

“And yet…” he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and looks at you thoughtfully, walking down the street with a light pace, “…you still choose to do all this. With me.”

Falling into step, your tongue stills in your mouth. You question yourself and your intentions but ultimately: you decide to slip him a piece of truth. Walking the dangerous lines like he does but in quieter ways.

“I’ve uh, never really known wh-what to do with choice: I’ve always just done what I’m supposed to do. Everything that’s happened since I came here… it’s liberating and it’s terrifying, but it’s mine, right?”

You want to kick yourself for the little lilt to your voice at the end, but your eyes are too busy silently pleading for some kind of understanding and validation.

These little choices, these silent confessions, these quiet surrenders… these are everything you have to give to a man with the whole world before him. You have nothing else, and no one will never understand how much weight and truth is behind that. You’ve wanted nothing but to help people since the day you were decanted: you have always felt so deeply, all too easily touched by other minds, and once you picked from enough thoughts to develop the words and concepts for it, you knew you wanted to be a hero. A not-so-gentle reminder that it was them who taught you to fight the bad and save the good, but pleasing in that you know they’d disapprove of how you do that now.

From one government operation to the next, you stupid, silly fool.

In that, Ricardo has always been symbolic to you: heroics and freedom made flesh. You’ve known since the day he saved your life—in your early days, homeless and squatting with your first ‘friends’—that you would follow this man into hell. But now, you know him. You know you would do whatever it takes to protect him, because he’s not a symbol, he’s all too real, too human—and that has made him even greater to you. No longer content with being a shadow, but wanting to be a shield. He is an inspiration, yes, but he is foremost your friend and partner. Maybe something more.

He responds to your question with a fond, sincere smile and a nod, and you start to think maybe it might be the same for him.

“It always will be,” he says quietly, pausing mid-step to look at you like he’s really seeing you. Not like earlier, but like he does when you’re in your suit: searching, trying to reach out, but only as far as you’ll let him.

It’s a deep look between the two of you, holding too much meaning but from sides of understanding the other will never get. The white noise of his mind hinders any opportunity to glimpse what he’s thinking or feeling, leaving your telepathic fingers missing any chance to understand what that look of his means. The soft moment is interrupted by a cheerful, “Hey!” sung out in the distance.

A familiar mind practically screaming in elation and pointedly directed at you, impossible to ignore and so easy to pinpoint.

Anathema is in the middle of the street, wildly waving and doing a little jump as if there were any way that you could miss those red curls and freckled arms out there in the open, even if there was a crowd. With a laugh, they come running over to you and Ortega once you two wave back, enthusiasm filling the air with an almost heady energy.

Someone is happy to see you… you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to that outside of a fight.

“Look at you! It’s YOU!” Anathema declares with a flailing of arms pointed at you, looking between you, who looks rather uncomfortable with the attention, and Ortega, who is beaming and loving this.

He immediately hops to their side, arm around their bare shoulders pulling at their cut-off tank top’s strap to pull them in, the other also flailing in your direction.

“It’s them! They’re real!” he exclaims in response, partially mocking but another part still hyped up from the revelation. “Sidestep, in the flesh!”

The two of them are jumping up and down, holding onto each other and chanting your name repeatedly, either in an attempt to welcome you excitedly or to embarrass you completely. While their intent may be the former, you are feeling entirely the latter. More minds you focus on pushing away light up: these two draw so much attention.

“Please, stop,” you mumble looking around at all the owners to the minds you feel trained on you. “You’re making a scene… and my s-secret identity is supposed to be, y’know, a secret.”

They both stop their hopping, attempting to look sorry but their grins are just the opposite. Their frozen pose looks like circus act waiting to begin.

“You can’t blame us for getting excited—the big secret has been revealed! I mean, look at you!” Another manic gesture from Anathema. “You’re so! Wow! Real!”

“Thank you for your o-observation: scientists may now rest knowing the universe’s grandest mystery has been laid to rest,” you snark.

“Wow,” they sigh almost dreamily, “it really is you, dude.”

“I feel like we’ve established that ten, maybe, maybe fifteen times now,” you sigh exasperatedly. You’re absolutely not embarrassed or flattered, you’re just scratching your ear because you’re checking for all your piercings, not because of any heat.

“Well, you gotta forgive me, y’know? Like, you haven’t been exactly the most accessible person in our day-to-day lives given the ratio to how often you’re around and in the shit with us. And then here you are: unmasked, named, walking down the street with ‘Tega like you live here or something.” It’s a grand smile they aim at you, one that you can’t resist answering.

“Yeah, I’ve been known to wander to and fro in the city now and then. Usually uh, when a group of blue unitard wearing assholes get into trouble they can’t get out of themselves. Heroes, y’know? Can’t even match the same shade m-much less clean up their own mess.”

After about a full minute of laughter at that joke you fear Anathema might keel over right in front of you: they’ve got a death grip on their ribs and their face is as red as a tomato.

Ortega claps you on your shoulder causing you to flinch: you didn’t pick up his intentions to do that of course, or even notice him slipping in by your side, so you shoot him a dirty look that he doesn’t notice while he looks at Anathema.

“Vigilantes and their egos over here… can’t live with ‘em—“ he trails off.

“—Can’t live without ‘em,” they finish.

You suddenly understand Steel’s complete and absolute refusal to ever hang out with the three of you. In fact, you let out another one of his customary groans in respect for his sacrifice: having the three of you as allies.

“Did you chucklefucks rehearse this skit or have you been i-improv comedians the whole time? At least I know that if you’re hero careers fall through you’ll uh, have a back-up option.”

You’re getting nervous out here unmasked and in the open with two of the Los Diablos Rangers, and the effort to actively track and distract any minds coming your way is burning you out fast. It shows in the harsh tone you’re starting to adopt and the jokes you use to deflect: always the type to swing instead of run.

“I forget you have such a filthy tongue sometimes,” Anathema pouts, only partially serious. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, and I got it from my babysitter, thank you very much.”

Your flinch goes unnoticed but it’s still time to stop talking and get moving. Your smile is caustic, easily mistaken for an annoyed look with your joke, but you too easily told the truth.

You technically had a sitter, and you did pick up her incessant cursing as a defence mechanism: it makes for a good character trait and convinces people to leave you the hell alone when you don’t use your telepathy to do the trick. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel a bit good, too.

Ortega is frowning at you, but as you turn to look at him it disappears before you even see it. Instead, you get a grin.

“Truly, this asshole is where I hath lain my affections,” he bemoans, genuflecting along with his performance before carrying on to walk ahead.

“We never said you had taste.” Anathema’s elbow catches his ribs as he passes them, falling into step after you.

You roll your eyes. “Clowns.”

“Welcome to the circus, Saltstep,” they shoot back.

“Alright, I’ll concede to that one,” you rub your neck and cast a guilty look towards your friends.

Sometimes you find the heat all too easily and throw back harder than you mean to, never quite sure of how hard you hit. She taught you more severity than restraint, but the point of being under your own control is to be better than that. “I can show that I am capable of, uh, not being a dick head for at least an evening.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?!” Ortega yells, throwing his hands into the air dramatically, getting a good laugh from Anathema behind you.

“Please, don’t hurt yourself on our behalf, ‘Step,” they follow up, still laughing.

“Kingsley,” you supply, casting a look back and down at them over your shoulder. “You can call me Kingsley… that’s kind of the point today, right?”

A soft smile in your direction, followed by a hushed tone, “I hope you didn’t mind the song and dance back there, I just know that if we didn’t show you how happy we are to see you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

As good at reading you as you are them.

You rub your neck and flex your hand. Reality catching up to reassert it’s weight on your shoulders. You suddenly feel watched—seen. Anyone anywhere could be looking at you and you haven’t even been paying attention. You scan yours surroundings, peeking into minds and shuffling through emotions, guiding any and everyone to forget any glimpse of you. Your ‘don’t look’ aura is as hard as the expression on your face.

“…I believe it.” A truth that won’t kill you.

“So soft, Chrysantamum,” Ortega says sweetly from up ahead, making sure not to look at you or make a big deal of it. He knows you’ll run if put under any more pressure. Especially with where he’s leading you.

“Cállate, Rico,” a playful smack to the back of his head like you’ve seen his mother pantomime doing.

Oh no. She’s going see your face one day, too. Your regrets are playing Tetris at this point.

“Aww! I want a personalised nickname for ‘em too! Hmm…” they fall into silence for a while, making plenty of exaggerated sounds. “Yeah, I’m stuck on King Crab.”

“What?! Why?” you whine.

“‘Cause you’re so tough and snappy but you’re so soft underneath the shell,” they supply, far too pleased with themself.

“I like it,” Ortega laughs.

“You’re killing me today guys.”

You all stop walking. Or rather Ortega stops, and you crash into him—that damned blank spot of a man—and Anathema crashes into you, always speed walking trying to keep up with your legs.

Three Stooges, just like Owl said. You bristle at the thought of her and wrinkle your nose.

“You’re not dead just yet. One more stop to go,” Ortega says, rubbing his neck as he turns and looks at you sheepishly.

“Huh?”

You turn your head and see exactly what he means: Rangers HQ.

“…No. Absolutely not.”

Before you can even side step either of them, they’ve both got you by an arm, planting themselves.

“King! It’s just the rest of the team: you know them.” Anathema’s looking up at you, trying to give you a half-assed puppy dog face you blatantly ignore by looking over their short head.

“Oh, yeah. It’s only Sentinel and Sunstream and the entire staff and whoever w-watches your security and visitors and Steel! Nothing big.” You stress the last name heavily, as if that should say all it needs to.

“It’s just Steel, Chrysantamum. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You can’t resist the modded strength pulling you towards the building, and stepping back onto Anathema’s toes will do nothing: even if they weren’t wearing boots. Their cut off shorts stop right above the knee, but a kick like that won’t work either. Damned invulnerability.

“Let’s see: he could say he hates m-me to my actual face, he could see my actual face, he could exist within the same r-room with me outside of my suit, I could exist in the same room with him—also outside of my suit…”

The moment they let go to throw their hands up in defeat you reach up, grabbing your hood and tearing it down over your face harshly, just as you all get into the lobby. You turn on the spot and step into Ortega’s space aggressively, fists balled.

“No one gets my name who’s not core team. No one gets my f-face who’s not core team. You erase, or let me erase, all traces of me from the, from the cameras and security checks, and any room we end up in I get to disable any electronics. I’m not taking another step until you agree.”

At this close a proximity, Ricardo has to look up at you. His face is soft and understanding, as Anathema walks away to handle the front desk clerk. “Hey,” his voice equally soft but serious, “I promised. No cameras, no press, no net. Nothing you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

“I don’t feel comfortable w-with any of this, but I can’t exactly wipe your minds and go about my merry way, now can I? You know that’s a lot of work, even for me.”

You both wince at that low blow, instantly regretting it slipping past but refusing to back down. Neither of you need to mention the name Riley to know the implications of your comment.

“Got it, you feel cornered,” he sighs. “At any point: any time—doesn’t matter when—you decide you wanna leave? Just tell me, and I’ll walk you out; we’ll take the back way out, the works.” His face softens a bit to an apologetic smile. “Buuut I definitely can’t let you into our security system without clearance: you’ll have to settle for tearing apart accessible wires. We’ll call it a security test.”

“Deal.” You stomp away, headed over to the elevator where Anathema is waiting, trying to gather your nerves into adrenaline.

Just think of this like a fight.

The doors chime and open and your stomach pools to the floor as those two step right past you and go in, one leaning on the left, one leaning on the right. Both smug.

Bastards. Trapping you in a small space, easily pacified, easily taken out. Right in the belly of the beast itself. Not like before: a new threat.

You step in and turn around, looking out the doors like they’re your last chance at salvation. Your hands clench and unclench, your breathing is getting a little rough, you start to sweat and thoughts—too many to sift through—start to bubble.

Please no, not a panic attack in an elevator with two people you see regularly.

A hand quietly slips into yours and gives it a squeeze. The doors are closing but you look to your left, at Ortega who is looking up at the floor display, not at all paying close attention to you. You get another squeeze and catch a small lift in the corner of his lips. A squeeze back and they lift a little higher.

You turn back to the closed doors, swallowing hard as the movement kicks in, and take in a deep breath to kick out the images of an older, crueler place.

You’re only about to expose yourself to the entirety of a government-owned and monitored team of superheroes. You’ve done worse. Like escape another government-owned and independently ran black site. This is a piece of cake by comparison—it only completely puts your life in danger. Your teeth grind as the beep of arrival sounds.

Chen is at the doors, just as they open, looking up from the papers in hand. He looks wide-eyed at you, trying to figure out who you are before his eyes go down to your hand in Ortega’s. He frowns and narrows his eyes at you.

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

#the mischief scribbles #MC: Kingsley Chrysanta #Ricardo Ortega #Anathema #fallen hero: rebirth #pre-Rebirth #fh:r #Sidestep #King thinks wordy thoughts but says so little #chargestep (implied)

20 notes · View notes

salemroleplayhq · 3 years

Text

Looking into our crystal ball, here’s what we see happening for our Random Pairings during this event:

These pairings were picked randomly, but were inspired by characters we haven’t seen interacting on the dash yet. Please message each other to plot out as much as you need to before starting, and get creative with it! The scenarios are meant to be fun jumping off points; they’re fairly open-ended, so feel free to make your own spin on them - or come up with something different if you’d rather. Just let us know so we can offer the plot up to someone else if it’s needed.

Deacon Carlisle and Paige King

Maybe it's curiosity or maybe you’re going out deliberately looking for trouble, but either way, you find it when the two of you end up locked in a storage closet or basement somewhere. Reception has always been spotty here - are you getting a signal?

Kaya Masondo and Alexandra Wilson

You’re at the bar when the bartender gets an urgent call. There’s no one else around, so he asks if you can cover for him real quick. Only, it’s been half an hour, and there’s still no sign of him. That’s what you get when you hire amateurs and don’t pay them...

Jamie Kingsley and Frannie Corwin

A drunken stranger has fallen into your laps (maybe literally!). Neither of you are sure you’ve ever met this person in your life, but they’re like a child the universe has tasked you with taking care of. At least you’ve got a co-parent! It’s up to the two of you to make sure this inebriated fellow gets home safe and sound.

Georgie Wallace and Riley Montoya

You’re pretty sure this is the door to the bathroom... You can hear someone puttering inside and every time you knock, they say they’ll be right out. The two of you might be waiting an awful long time - Have you heard of a man called Godot?

Kacie Kingsley and Ale Rossi

(injury tw) Who knew that spooky, dark lighting was also dangerous? It’s just a scratch, or a twisted ankle, but one of you didn’t come out of the scare-zone unscathed. Who knows first aid?

Sunil Kumar and Myra Malik

Most of the items up for silent auction are lame, but there’s one prize you are determined to take home with you. Only problem is, someone else feels the exact same way. It’s time for all-out silent war!

Lennon Hollingsworth and Jude Wilson

They said ‘scary,’ but you didn’t think it would be quite this scary... One of the decorations plays right into one of your greatest fears. Good thing there’s someone there to help you out.

Sophie Thompson and Eva Giatti

Yes, the music is loud and it’s crowded in here, but that doesn’t mean people can’t see or hear you. Someone didn’t get the memo, and now the two of you are privy to a stranger’s juicy secret (could be criminal activity, cheating, etc.).

Taylor Evans and Breanne Samaya

You don’t have a target on your back, but you wouldn’t know it from the way one of the scare-actors has singled the two of you out. There’s a fine line between being committed and going overboard...

Isla Baker and Park Hyunmin

Sorry, I thought you were someone else... Your friend was supposed to dress up in the exact same costume, so as soon as you see it, you strike up a conversation like it’s old times. Only, oops! Turns out the costume is more common than you thought. Why didn’t you stop me sooner?

Lachlan Peters and Verona Warren

Some people take their costumes waaay too seriously... There’s someone dressed up as cupid who is going around pretending to play matchmaker. It’s funny enough to watch other people stumble through awkward, forced meet-cutes, but then his arrow lands on you. Valentine’s not until February, you asshole...

Vanessa Rodrigues and Fei Davenport

It was not on the schedule, but the DJ’s decided it’s time for impromptu karaoke. Maybe you feel sorry for the guy (he’s trying) or maybe you’re dared to do it, but singing in public is always easier with a partner, right?

#srphqevent #srphqhalloween #srphqadmin

8 notes · View notes

violet-t-9 · 3 years

Text

Check in on my (not very realistic) wish list for episode 141

1. Blooming Grove Clay family reunion! Hugs and tears! Home-cooked meal and tea! Much needed relaxation and downtime after saving the world.

Ay that was a nice meal and a good night’s sleep.

2. Widogast’s Nascent Nein (9!) Sided Tower because Caleb still has a spell slot for that! So many cats and books. Also, rooms for Essek and Molly (9!). Bonus: seeing more rooms on the 8th floor of the tower?

Oof well thanks Trent now we don’t get to see the tower again, ever. I’m 100% sure that Essek will see his room during the Aeorian study fun times and Luc and Yeza will see their rooms in magical summer camp with professor Widogast though, so I’m happy.

3. Check in and visiting Allura to return her staff and Kima’s Holy Avenger (”hey we saved the world killed Lucien stopped the city Allura are you proud of us? You are? Tell us who is on the Tal’Dorei council.”)

They mentioned it, but they didn’t play it out, unfortunately. Alas, the members of the Tal’Dorei council shall forever remain a mystery.

4. Check in and visiting Yussa and Wensforth to apologize for their last visit to the Tidepeak Tower and using his emergency exit plan, but Yussa being too grateful to be saved from a screaming city hivemind to care.

Yep, thank you Caleb for remembering Yussa lol. Should have known that he would want to study the Happy Fun Ball... Wizards sharing knowledge, how nice! Also, Veth’s goodbye to Wensforth was very sweet.

5. Molly getting more and more of his memory back and slowly becoming his old flamboyant self.

I... wow I mean I guess Kingsley? This technically happened? He is going to become someone new, which is always exciting! He got a lot of... interesting memories back too. He is also interested in learning about Molly’s memory too, even though he is somebody else (and just as flamboyant).

6. Caleb says goodbye to Frumpkin and there is either a sweet farewell or Frumpkin just goes “nah fam I choose my wizard you can’t get rid of me”.

Aw Frumpkin didn’t feel ready to leave at first... :( The actual farewell was indeed short and sweet, I loved it.

7. Beau and Yasha moments, conversations, fun times, shameless PDA, or potentially fade to black because they deserve it.

Camping outside at night, aw. Their moment after the Zeenoth trial was very touching as well! “Yes, my love?” and “my Expositor” lol how romantic they are. They are planning to settle down and explore Yasha’s past together! Their honeymoon little trip! Also, “I will have you and then some” was indeed hot.

8. Jester and Fjord being domestic, adorable and sharing kisses/conversations or potentially fade to black because they deserve it.

The sleep snuggle was soo cute and Jester’s love admission was adorable! Also the rain and double confession wow Fjord what a romantic man. Their conversation in Nicodranas was sooo cute guys. They planned boat trips!

9. Caleb and Essek have a long one-on-one conversation about their “it’s complicated” relationship and have some more physical contact (still reeling from the forehead touch last episode).

Caleb attempting to include Essek in the globe of invulnerability and Essek dragging Caleb away from melee combat aw. The kiss on the cheek and the empathetic hug... I will take the time travel conversation as well.

10. Veth, Yeza and Luc’s joyful/tearful family reunion and happy fun times in which Veth and Yeza may or may not celebrate in private.

Aw that was a nice reunion, so very cute. Veth gets to fully return home to her family after saying goodbye! I’m going to assume that she celebrates her return with Yeza in private.

11. Cad’s moments with his family and also with Molly (because it’s fun to watch them on screen together and conversing let’s be real).

Caduceus gets to be with his family now, enjoying life at the blooming grove! He deserves the relaxation!

12. Jester’s reunion with her mother with big hugs and finding out that parent trap TM has succeeded thanks to her genius plans. Also, the gentleman being a super awkward but loving dad.

Yes I knew it would work! The gentleman is a nervous drinker confirmed lol. The mother-daughter talk was very nice and a great reminder!

13. The Mighty Nein plans for the future: getting rid of Cloven Crystal, Fjord visiting Vandran (with Jester probably, who discusses Tusk Love with him) and maybe Sabian? Yasha’s plan to bring flower to Zuala (trip with Beau?). Beau’s plans regarding Zeenoth’s trial (has that happend yet? Does she want to go?) and Caleb’s plans for the assembly (or even further ahead, magical school? Aeorian research with Kryn Colleague? How pissed is Ludinus Da’leth?)

Well, the empire siblings sure started a task force against the assembly huh. Also yeah Caleb you tell him, F**k your vacancy Martinet Ludinus Da’leth! Professor Caleb will teach Luc. Astrid would be more interested in the position anyways. Fjord got to visit Vandran with Jester and got him to join their sailing adventures! Jester also talks about Tusk Love with him wow. Beau testified against Zeenoth with Yasha by her side! Yasha gave flowers to Zuala on a trip with Beau! Caleb and Essek got to do their Aeorian research study! Fjord’s cloven crystal adventure was also addressed! I’m so good at predictions you guys I KID YOU NOT I predicted everything.

14. Getting an update about Astrid and Eadwulf to find out that they are in fact doing fine because Trent is in deep trouble and under heavy investigation by the Augen Trust and Cobalt Soul (bonus: Trent is already starting to get what he deserves. Or even better, Trent has died from liver failure in jail. Like his jaundice really kept getting worse so one can hope I guess?)

F**k you Trent, you just had to show up and ruin everything didn’t you. Well, Astrid and Eadwulf are fne now, and Trent IS in deep trouble and rotting in jail. Still hoping that he will die from liver failure after like, a few years.

15. Fjord officially “meeting the parents” and Gentleman/Marion giving Fjord the shovel talk because that didn’t happen last time.

Aw he didn’t go with! But the gentleman did talk about Fjord anyways lol and gave her some sound advice.

16. Wedding mentions/discussions? Proposals? Anyone? No?

Well Jester proposed to marry... her parents? Lol did not see that one coming. Veth and Yeza renewing vows yes! It was a nice suggestion.

17. Artagan/sprinkle joins in the celebration because why not (bonus: Sprinkle gets to be free! Or whatever an undead weasel could be lmao)

Artagan and Jester’s conversation was very nice development for them. Sprinkle gets to stay forever, unfortunately for Sprinkle lol.

18. Obligatory wish for Essek’s fancy dunamancy or magical items (like I know we will never see dark star probably but I live for spell casting flavours).

Essek’s hold person on Trent was clutch, “stay down”, what a king. The tether essence, lightning bolt and gravity sinkhole were all wonderful. Still sad about the dark star never being seen though.

19. Obligatory wish for the polymorph spell (look, I just love it okay).

Hey, Jester threatened Astrid with it! Polymorph mention wins! Fjord was sad about the potential choice of turning her into a turtle but it would have been funny.

20. Obligatory wish for Caleb to use more fire/customized/dunamantic spells creatively or with nice flair (what’s sexier than wizards NOTHING).

What’s sexier than counterspells and dispel magic NOTHING. Also hey, the manacles of stasis worked!

21. Discussion about Essek’s future because oh boy can he even go back to the Dynasty? Have they found him out yet? If they did, how mad is the Bright Queen? Are Volstruckers too busy to chase him down? We need to know!

Oh man I mean Essek found a way to live freely at least! With a lot of illusions and identities, of course. He also got to stay in contact with the M9! I think he may show up in campaign 3!

22. Group hug! Group feast! Group cheer! I dunno, just do group stuff. They are the Mighty Nein, they are the Mighty Nine, they saved the world!

A lot of group hugs and feasts! I especially loved the hug when they said goodbye to Essek.

23. Visiting/checking in with other NPCs or allies potentially! Like Kiri, Calianna, Twiggy, Keg, Shakasta, Bryce, Dagen oh also the Hag (I’m kidding).

They checked in with Orly! Not these allies but you know, Orly is awesome.

24. Obligatory wish for everyone (the Nein, their friends/families) to get a happy ending that gives me a feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment, and that the episode/campaign ends with a poetically beautiful scene!

Yes, it was a very poetic and very beautiful story indeed

I love the Mighty Nein/Nine, I love the cast. I’m so grateful for their story in my life. Words are not enough to describe my thankfulness for being able to go on this journey with them.

Now excuse me I just need to go sob in a corner.

My score: 19/24

Seriously though check out #13 I’m proud of that one

Other Highlights:

Caleb hit 100 HP OMG I too am proud of him.

Well I didn’t expect the boss fight but I’m glad we are getting one?

Caleb’s produce flame was used by Veth on Fluffernutter, nice!

The Veth + Beau putting collar combo was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, also there is something poetic about Caleb relying entirely on his friends and Astrid to carry out the collar tactic on Trent.

The forced empathy commands by Cad lmao wow angry Cad is scary, too bad Trent didn’t have any.

Veth’s silent image... Caleb disintegrating and burning everything in the T-dock... Caleb’s book for his parents... Professor Widogast... Excuse me I’m going to cry now.

#cr spoilers #c2e141 #critical role #critical role spoilers #cr liveblog #manifest list #the mighty nein

22 notes · View notes

dalekofchaos · 3 years

Text

Harmione au & headcanons

My au and headcanons for Harmione 🖤

There was a hint of things to come in their first year. Before they leave. Hermione tells Harry "Harry, you're a great wizard, you know. " "I'm not as good as you." "Me? Books and cleaverness! There are more important things! — Friendship! And Bravery and— love!" Inspiration

Harry fell in love with Hermione the moment they saved Buckbeak together and Hermione has always loved Harry

Before Hermione could ask Viktor to the Yule Ball, she finds out that he has a date. So Hermione and Harry at the same time yell “WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE YULE BALL?” Both of them are redder than their Gryffindor colors.

When Harry witnesses Hermione in her Yule Ball dress, his jaw drops and smiles at her with heart eyes and Hermione looks at Harry like he’s her prince charming.

It was then when they danced together that Harry and Hermione confessed their feelings for each other. Hermione is the one who goes in for the kiss.

Later they find out that Ron asked out Viktor. Ron is happy for his friends, so while all parties are content, there is no drama

During the second task, Harry rescues Hermione

Hermione is there to comfort Harry over Cedric’s death and Voldemort’s return. What it may look like.

As Harry and Hermione bid each other farewell until year 5, Hermione hugs Harry and kisses him on the cheek and Harry embraces Hermione in a kiss. Like so

Hermione would gift Harry her second copy of Hogwarts:A History and makes absolutely clear. “Harry James Potter, after 4 years you will finally read Hogwarts:A History! Do I make myself clear?” A twitch of fear enters Harry’s reality after he saw what Hermione did to Rita. “Yes Hermione”

In Harry’s copy of Hogwarts:A History is a portrait of Harry and Hermione’s dance and first kiss.

Only thoughts of Hermione kept Harry sane from the nightmares of Voldemort and Cedric

Thinking of Hermione allowed Harry to conjure a corporal Patronus to save himself and Dudley

Hermione wakes up after hearing Harry’s night terrors. Hermione cuddles with Harry and that stops Harry’s terrors stop

Other nights, Hermione would read to Harry until he falls asleep

After seeing what Umbridge did to Harry, not only does Hermione tell McGonagall, but Hermione confronts the loathsome toad and makes it explicitly clear that Umbridge’s archaic and medieval practices against students is illegal. Hermione is sentenced to detention for her troubles of course, this later furthers Hermione’s “fuck the rules” mentality

Harry Ron and Hermione would of course found Dumbledore’s Army as per canon

In private, Hermione would ask Harry if he’s read Hogwarts:A History. Harry said yes and loved it and asks Hermione to keep recommending books to him. This would leave Hermione with the biggest smile and blush possible. “Oh Harry”

Harry and Hermione would help Cho through her grief with Cedric

Harry and Hermione cast their patronuses together. Hermione’s Otter loves on Harry’s Stag

Harry and Hermione’s nicknames for each other after seeing their patronus is “Darling Otter” and “Dashing Stag”

Cho would talk to Harry and Hermione in confidence about Marietta sand they are able to get through to her before she talks to Umbridge

Harry and Hermione still fuck up Umbridge’s shit. “I’m sorry professor, we must not tell lies” and they hold hands as Umbridge suffers the consequences

When Hermione was stunned and silenced by Antonin Dolohov, Harry bombarded him with Stupefy

Hermione would be there to comfort Harry after Sirius’ death

During the summer, Harry and Hermione would spend time together. Harry would meet Mr and Mrs Granger, which was lovely. Hermione met the Dursleys. Which was not pleasant. They watched movies together and danced together and skated together before Hermione returned home

Hermione would wear Harry’s Quidditch jerseys and Harry would read Hermione’s books

When Harry arrives at the Burrow, everyone greets him as normally. But Ron has something to tell everyone. Ron is bisexual and in love with Viktor Krum. Everyone is accepting and proud of Ron.

Hermione would try to talk Harry out of spying on Draco, but Harry insists there is something suspicious about Draco

Harry and Hermione go on a date to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Harry and Hermione would kiss under the mistletoe

Instead of Hermione being heartbroken over not being with Ron, it’s Ron who is saddened by not being able to see his boyfriend. So Harry gives Ron Sirius’ old Two-Way Mirror.

Harry and Hermione would dance at Bill and Fleur’s wedding

When Remus asks Harry to be Godson to Teddy, Harry agrees, and so does Hermione.

During the hunt for the Horcruxes, pretty much the same stuff happens

Harry and Hermione have their same moments in Godric Hollow. But I’d also add, “I think my mum and dad would’ve love you, Hermione.”

Rest of the story would remain the same. Ron returns, Hermione would be mad at first and welcome him back. Pretty much the same till Battle Of Hogwarts

Harry and Hermione would be Battle Couple goals in the Battle Of Hogwarts.

As Harry tells Hermione and Ron what he must do after witnessing Snape’s memories. Hermione breaks down. Harry embraces Hermione in a hug and a kiss.

When Voldemort gloats about killing Harry and demands obedience and loyalty. After Neville’s “FUCK YOU! I’LL JOIN YOU WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER, DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY” defiance, Hermione stands defiant and gives a speech, basically saying those who died are not in vain. How she loved Harry, something Voldy could never understand and that Harry is still with her. And basically saying Voldemort will fall as they know his secret and just one more remains. Voldemort absolutely seething with rage. Screams. “You filthy mudblood, AVADA KEDAVRA!” And Harry wakes and casts a shield charm to save Hermione. Voldemort’s full attention is focused on Harry.

Ron and Hermione try to desperately kill Nagini, but fail. Luckily Neville with the sword of Gryffindor kills the snake and the final Horcrux

After the Battle Of Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione begin to plan their life together

When Hermione found out Harry was choosing not to attend Harry’s 7th Year after free from Voldemort and the war. Hermione sent a Howler. “HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU MARCH YOUR ASS TO DIAGON ALLEY AND TO KING’S CROSS STATION AND PREPARE TO ATTEND YOUR 7TH YEAR RIGHT NOW!” Ron thinks he’s in the clear.....until Molly’s letter. Needless to say, Harry and Ron did attend their final year. Kingsley is NOT pulling them out of Hogwarts, cause he does not want to face the wrath of Molly Weasley

Sometime after graduating Hogwarts, Harry proposed to Hermione in Godric’s Hollow. Harry got down on his knee and asked her “Hermione, my Otter and my soul mate. Will you marry me and grow old with me in Godric’s Hollow?” Hermione, smiling with tears of joy shouts “Yes!”

idk the specifics of their vows, but I believe it would end with Harry telling Hermione. “Hermione. in you I found love, peace and Harmony. I love you Hermione Jean Granger and I am complete with you.”

Either they would fix up The Potters’ Cottage in Godric’s Hollow or build their own Cottage

Harry and Hermione would raise Teddy as their own, but always remind him of who Remus and Tonks were and what they sacrificed to keep him safe.

Harry would be an Auror for a time and Hermione would be Deputy Head of the Law Enforcement department. After a time, they would retire and return to Hogwarts as Professors. Harry would be the DADA Professor and Hermione would be the Transfiguration Professor.

Harry and Hermione’s children would be named. James Sirius Potter, Rose Lily Potter and Leo Serpen Potter

All was well

#Harry Potter #Harmione #Harry James Potter #Hermione Granger #HHR #Harmony #harry x hermione

38 notes · View notes

trevardes · 3 years

Text

sail anywhere

Spoilers for Critical Role C2 EP141!

Fic: Sail anywhere Words: 1807 Summary: It hurts a little when they say Kingsley’s name. Rating: T Warnings: none Also on AO3 here.

It hurts to be born.

He thinks this must be true for all living things, but most of them don’t remember the moment. He does; he remembers it all. The smell of flesh and decay around him, and the astonished, painfully hopeful faces of eight strangers gathered in a circle around him.

Later, he’ll hurt for not remembering the lives they tell him he used to have, but in the moment he’s consumed by physical agony from his wounds and the heart-wrenching feeling of emptiness, of lacking something crucial. He’s nearly broken, only partially fixed both inside and out, and he wants to scream but only manages a whimper.

“Mollymauk?” the big one with the white hair and the tears slipping down her face asks, and it hurts to say no.

The grove heals him slowly like it heals the others, and he learns to walk and talk and not fear them. They have it in them to fight and injure, he knows, though he wasn’t present for the fight with the other wizards. Some of these people are clearly disappointed that he’s different from what they expected, but none of them seem inclined to take it out on him. Instead, they bring him food and blankets and awkward smiles, doing their best to support him as he takes his first steps in the world, sees his first sunset, his first sunrise, his first rainstorm.

It hurt to be born, new and wrecked and fumbling, shoved into a broken body, and it hurts to heal. It hurts to sit still as his muscles and skin slowly come back together, adding new scars to the old, distorting some of the tattoos on his skin. Empty spots amid them seem to stare at him, though the others tell him the eyes that used to be there are now gone forever.

Nicodranas bustles with energy and life, and it’s there that he finalizes the decision to call himself Kingsley. It’s not quite right, but more so than Mollymauk or Lucien would be. It’s something he thinks he could grow to be, with time, with some care and some time to find out who he’ll end up becoming.

“Kingsley”, Yasha says softly as he’s preparing to make the trip to Fjord’s ship. She turns the name around in her mouth with care, and the sadness of her smile hurts him - it hurts, it hurts - but it also feels good. Like perhaps he can have this, perhaps he can try something on his own. He wants to be Kingsley - not because he cannot be Mollymauk, but because he doesn’t yet know who he can be, and burns with the need to find out.

“Love”, he says back, just to see her lips quirk into a sweet smile, even as her heart breaks a little in her eyes. “Yasha”, he continues, matching her soft tone. He isn’t the man who was important to her, who experienced so much with her, but she’s already important to him, somehow. “This isn’t a goodbye.”

“I know”, Yasha says and reaches out carefully, taking his slender hand in her own, the size of it dwarfing him and the warmth making his heart hurt.

“I’m going to go with Beau, to find Zuala’s grave. My wife’s grave.” There’s a deep sadness in her, but it gives way to a fierce joy every time she sees Beauregard or mentions her. That whole situation is a big can of worms Kingsley doesn’t know he wants to dip into just yet, so he doesn’t ask.

“And after?” he asks instead, as if that’s any easier a question. She has an answer prepared, however, and she tells him in hushed tones.

“Beau will continue as an expositor, and I’m so proud. She’s perfect for it. The thing is… I don’t know what I’m perfect for yet, except that I want to be for her”, Yasha says. “So at least for a while, I’ll just go where she goes, see how I like a quieter life. Maybe we’ll settle down somewhere.”

She wants to rest and to find herself through finding peace. Kingsley gets that, but he knows that’ll never work for him.

“Send word once you know where you’ll be. I’ll come visit”, he promises. “At some point - not yet though, and not for a while, I think - I’d like to hear about Molly from you.”

Yasha squeezes his hand and gifts him a smile that makes him see how she can so easily turn a difficult person like Beau into sappy mush.

“I would love that”, Yasha whispers, and though it hurts, Kingsley thinks he understands Beau, thinks he understands why Mollymauk would decide Yasha’s card had to be Love.

Kingsley loves the sea, and he thinks it might love him back. Most things in the world are large and new and painful, and the sea is that as well, but it still feels like home. Every place it takes him offers something new to experience, something new to be.

Fjord and Jester and the rest of the crew at his back, Kingsley stands at the prow of the ship, squinting in the sunlight reflecting off of perfect turquoise water. Seagulls fly overhead, calling to each other, and the wind pushes the ship hard as it splits the roiling surface like a knife. The water goes on forever, disappearing behind the horizon, and Kingsley smiles. His hands grip the railing and he leans forward, tail flipping behind him in excitement, his black coat billowing in the wind. There are other ports to see where he’s going, people to meet, treasure to find and to take, and this right here is something he thinks he can learn to be. This him who feels sea spray and sun gentle on his skin, this him whose newly short hair whips in the strong wind and whose chest is filled with - yes, hurt, still, but also wonder and joy and sweet longing for the unknown.

“Do you think you’ll ever remember any of… any of Molly’s memories?” Fjord asks one night after a long card game and half a bottle of rum they’ve split between them. It’s just the two of them in the captain’s cabin, Jester having left earlier to spend some time listening to Orly’s stories from his youth.

Kingsley tilts his head, considering. He takes his time, secretly enjoying the way Fjord shifts uncomfortably as he waits for the answer. Kingsley suspects the man wouldn’t have taken this up if it wasn’t for the alcohol; it’s a difficult subject and Kingsley may have been a bit harsh in the way he’s tried to make them believe he isn’t Mollymauk and never will be.

“I’m not sure”, he finally says. “I haven’t so far, so I think it’s unlikely, but who knows?”

Fjord nods gravely. “Caduceus told me he asked the Wildmother to put Molly’s soul back, and that she did, but I suppose it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Kingsley toasts to that with the last dregs of the rum. “Maybe our soul is the same, but I’m still… well. I don’t know, but I’m not him.”

“That’s alright”, Fjord says, and from anyone else it might sound like an empty platitude, but not from Fjord. His tusks are digging into his lip nervously and his eyes flicking up to meet Kingsley’s and back down again. “You’re good, whether you remember or not. We have all that history with Molly, but those memories aren’t going anywhere, even if you find your own path. We have a future with you in it now, and that’s worth it.”

“Oh, Captain, I do so love it when you talk to me so sweetly”, Kingsley grins, and only laughs harder as Fjord sputters and covers his face with a hand, flushing.

The rum is gone, but there’s always sweet, sparkling rosé to be had thanks to Veth. Kingsley takes out the flask and takes a swig, offering it to Fjord. He takes it, looking thankful to be able to give his mouth something other to do than talking. Kingsley teases him further just for the hell of it, winking and blowing him an exaggerated kiss. Fjord groans and shoves his shoulder, smiling.

Years pass and the memories never return.

Kingsley is still empty, in a way; he can feel the absence of Mollymauk, of Lucien, but gradually he grows to fill some of that space. He has a hundred adventures with Fjord and Jester, many visits with Yasha and Beau, with Caleb and that elusive drow of his, with Veth’s family and at Caduceus’s beautifully melancholy little temple home.

He visits every major port in Exandria, tastes every drink and learns dirty words in more languages than he can count. He works and steals and charms and <em>lives.</em> He knows many women in many ports, and many men and many others, and is first surprised and then delighted to find that his empty chest can light up with love for any of them, for all of them.

He doesn’t have a home port like Fjord and Jester do, not even after he eventually has his own ship and crew who call him Captain, or when they start operating out of Darktow Isle, and that’s just fine with him.

He does often sail to Nicodranas, not in small part because of an elusive wizard of his own. Caleb would be proud if he knew, Kingsley thinks with a private smirk as he makes his way towards a tall tower to meet a certain handsome elf, already thinking of smooth brown skin on golden yellow sheets, of their quiet, snarking conversations afterwards.

The memories never return, and eventually Kingsley stops wishing that they did, stops dreading the day they might.

He does hurt for the Mighty Nein for losing their friend. He hurts for Mollymauk even as he names his ship after this person he’s taken to referring to as his brother, and he carries a measure of guilt; if Kingsley had never been born, perhaps Mollymauk would have lived. He would’ve reigned glorious over whatever piece of the world he would’ve chosen, and people would have loved him, that much Kingsley knows. He feels like a murderer some days, but on others it’s easier to just vow to make good use of this life he has been given.

Mollymauk would have lived this life to its fullest, and Kingsley has every plan to do the same.

He has his crew at his side and people he calls friends and joys and loves scattered on every shore in Exandria; he has the wind in his hair, the sun bright and sweetly painful in his eyes; he has everything he needs and more.

Kingsley Tealeaf smiles through the small, lingering hurt and sets a course for the horizon.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr #kingsley tealeaf #kingsley #fic #my fic #critical role fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

malereader-inserts · 4 years

Text

broken crown | i.

Your mother tried to keep you disciplined. But, it was hard to control a kid who was using magic as if it didn’t take time and skill - in which, to you it was. By the time you were seven, the funny old man told you that your family was Merlin.

Word Count: 1,727

A/n: HERE WE GOOO, REMUS SON SERIES IS OUT Yes, this is like the majority of characters live AU. Think we’re going with movies and there will be a lot of hindsight and flashbacks - The title was inspired by the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons. Anyone wanting to be on the tag list, message me! Scheduled for every Friday; 12:15am (BST). Also, feedback is appreciated!

Next >

You were in bed, early morning with the sun beaming down upon you. You lay there still, it was the day that you were moving Harry from his home to the burrow. You could hear your dad clatter about in the kitchen whilst your step mum fiddled with the radio, hopefully finding suitable music to relax to. You got up to look out your window, sighing as you got up from the bed. Taking a quick shower and dressing for the day.

Just like Hermione had told you to, you had packed a back for the group, promising to join them in the hunt for Horcruxes. You cleaned your room, the night before. Remus could hear a lot of shuffling in your room, he thought better to leave you alone. You put your bag on your neatly made bed with your wand next to it. You hadn’t told your dad you were joining, but you think he knows by now as you descend down the stairs.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Remus says, surprised as he cooks up breakfast whilst Tonks smirks at you, “Are you alright? Having a fever?”

You rolled your eyes, you wished, but the truth is nerves were setting. Allowing for little sleep for you to get. You shake your head as you sit at the table, whilst Tonks ruffles your hair. Breakfast was almost silent, you didn’t say much as you finished your food.

“Got something on your mind?” Remus asked, finally, as Tonks does the cleaning up - waving her wand as Remus rolls his eyes at his wife.

You smiled softly, thinking you’re going to miss mornings like that, and mornings when it is loud with your parents, you look at your dad, “No.”

Remus narrows his eyes, he knows you and can see right through your lies, but leaves you be, “Alright, we��ll be leaving soon. You’ll see Sirius again!”

You smiled to yourself, you like Sirius, he teased you relentlessly during the summer before the fifth year - he did live up to being family, he was your father’s best friend after all. You also get to see your friends again, after a month of no to little contact, missing Ron and Hermione dearly. You went back upstairs, slowly this time, taking time to process your surroundings.

Your father kept a lot of pictures of you growing up. You stayed with your mother life before Hogwarts. In fact, you were Harry’s first friend, and your barely ever saw him when you were a child. Your mother sent pictures to your dad, stills and moving. Your dad kept a photo album of your growing, despite not being in your life as much as he liked.

Your mum always sent him a batch of pictures at the end of the month. Little drawings you made for your dad, creations and such. As said before, you were friends with Harry. But, you promised to your mother that you wouldn’t say anything. Harry would see you once or twice a month, your mother played it off like you were a sickly child that couldn’t leave the house and you knew of Harry’s situation.

From a young age, you had excelled in magic at a young age. Which is why you were frequently visited by Dumbledore as you grew up. At the age of seven that is when you found out your true meaning, your true purpose. A lot of responsibility for a child.

You and your mother were descendants of Merlin, and rumours had spiralled that someone just as powerful as Merlin would lead the way, to make an example of the wizardry world. Your mother was as average as one could be, as did your uncles, aunts, cousins from that side as well. But, the moment you were born, with the eyes of your father, you had shown ability surpassing your age.

Dumbledore would observe you when you were five, often coming around, you named him a funny old man as you played tea with him. Filling the cups up with chocolate milk without a wand and it was no accident, with the twinkle in your eye - Dumbledore knew you were something different.

You knew of Merlin, your mother told tales of him before you went to sleep. The funny old man told you that you would do so many great things in life. At the age of seven, you just wanted to be a kid, and they let you. But, when you turn nine, it seemed like you were always indoors to read, to learn. You figured out you were dyslexic, and yet, you were the only one who was able to read the book of Merlin, he had written centuries ago.

His work, his spells he had created for himself, all passed down with unknown translation, and you found yourself understanding it. Whilst you sometimes struggle with English, you had excelled in runes, both Merlin’s and ancient, and Latin. Your mother died in the summer just before your first year, you were distraught.

Death Eaters had invaded your home, you hid in the chest where Merlin’s work was kept. You came out of the chest to see Dumbledore, saying you’ll be living with your father. You never wanted to leave Harry, but there was a comforting feeling that you would see him on the Hogwarts train.

So, here you were in your small room. Your single bed that was positioned under the window, it was cleared and neatly done up. Your wardrobe, chest of drawers and desk was cleared. Your bookshelves neatly presenting your books, your notebooks that you had been filling out since you were nine of your own spells, your own creations, following in the footsteps of Merlin.

Notebooks you wrote in the unknown runes as well, drawings of diagrams. Notebooks you had written about the years in Hogwarts, neatly in order of what year. How you had unlocked all Merlin’s cursed vaults, also, your adventures with Harry and the other two. Some of your notebooks kept clean, others were battered. You sighed, looking in the mirror one last time, a picture of you and your father taped onto it.

“(Y/n)!” Remus called you from downstairs, “We have to go!”

You pulled on your jacket, grabbing your bag and wand. Headed downstairs, closing your bedroom door for the very last time in a long while, to see your dad and step-mum with a small bag. You smiled tightly at them, taking a deep breath and apparating to the Burrow.

You had kept your stuff in Ron’s room, the night was slowly setting in, so everyone was going to get ready to meet at Harry’s home. You stood outside, Hermione gripping your hand.

“Ready for one last adventure?” You asked your two best friends.

Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Hagrid and Kingsley also exit the house and wait outside with you and your two best friends. They looked at you, giving you a tight smile. You found comfort within them, they had your back like you had Harry’s back with them. Arthur, the twins, Bill and Fleur all came out last.

Mad-Eye looked at the group, counting everyone, before saying everyone was present in the movement of Harry Potter. There were going to meet more aurors at Harry’s, to accompany them in the great flight. You had given Mad-Eye your broom as you looked at the people surrounding you.

After, in a hypothetical good situation, Harry defeats Voldemort. The country, perhaps the world would have to turn to look up at you. A young adult, still finding his way. You looked at the faces, faces you won’t see for many months. You often wonder if that’s what Ron and Hermione were thinking. You looked at Sirius, still the joker he ever was. He gives you a tight smile, his eyes glimmering.

Then you looked at Tonks, your step-mum. You weren’t bothered at the age gap between you and her, many were surprised at the fact. Some were not, after all, if you weren’t prioritising Gryffindor traits, your friends would vouch for you for Hufflepuff before you could even find yourself in Slytherin like Merlin. You welcomed Tonks with open arms, she even lets you call her Dora. Despite the age difference, she does hope one day you can call her mum - even if yours had passed many years before.

Then, you turn to look at your dad. The kind and gentle soul he’ll always be. And yet, he is full of rage as well. Your father was loving, he had wanted to spend your childhood with you. But, your father could not let your mother provide for him and he wanted to keep you safe from the monster he was, though you never had seen him as a monster. He was your father, and that’s all you’ll ever see him as. You’ll miss him when you leave, you won’t be able to write him letters or such. You see him look at you.

There’s pride in his eyes.

You hate it because you see a lot of pride in many people’s eyes. Whilst his pride is that you are his miracle boy, his son, the man he has raised you to be. The other look of pride had scorn you, often at times, the pride in their eyes was because you were following some powerful wizard that they expected you to act and be like.

You want to make a name for yourself, but it’s hard when no one knows that you have a name to follow.

Responsibilities, why must they tear down the youth of some child, some teenager?

Perhaps, that’s why you and Harry had fallen in love.

“Everyone knows the plan?” Mad-Eye asked, once more for confirmation, as many answers back with a murmur.

The plan, who didn’t know the plan? It was frustrating as all hell with all the reruns of the damn plan. You sighed as you watched everyone apparated away, you looked at your father with a smile - see you on the other side.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x male reader #Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #broken crown #x male reader

423 notes · View notes

theprodigypenguin · 4 years

Note

Percy and Oliver were each others only roommates for seven years because they had no gryffindor boys in their year (the war so kids died or were never born) and like they absolutely had something going on put Percy fell for Penny and they still had this weird thing and then Percy and Audrey happened and then the divorce and Percy and Oliver were still friends and then became even closer and still ha this thing which just like turned into them being married even if they didn’t realize it at first

First of all it took me forever to confirm that Oliver and Percy were the same age. It seems like they are, I remember that in GoF Oliver had been put on the National Quidditch League Reserve while Percy had JUST started working for Barty Crouch. Okay yes, they’re the same age NOW, please forgive my following Perciver rant! Because I have some THOUGHTS!

So I never even considered they might be the ONLY boys in their room, but I love it so much wow! But here’s my canon of their relationship: Oliver is gay, Percy is bisexual, but Oliver was more comfortable with his sexuality. Percy went through a lot of anxiety about his sexuality, mixed with his stress at trying to be perfect. I mean why else would he take 12 OWLs? He’s trying to be everything for his family, for his mum, prove that he’s as good as Bill and Charlie, but he doesn’t take any time for himself. He focuses so much on being perfect that he doesn’t realize it’s practically killing him.

Oliver is way more laid back and chill, he’s very calm, and Percy would probably take a lot of comfort from Oliver being there. I definitely see them NOT getting along at first, because Percy is all neat and put together, he probably folds his socks, meanwhile Oliver is the kind of guy to sleep on top of the blankets and throw his clothes and books all over the floor. Percy would want to strangle him most days, but after mmmmaybe halfway through their second year? Percy starts to get used to Oliver, even looks forward to seeing him at school.

Percy tutors Oliver in some subjects, probably helps him pass his OWLs and NEWTs even, and Oliver teaches Percy to let loose a bit. I think Percy would immediately stiff up and go back to his usual self around his family/siblings, because he thinks he NEEDS to. He thinks he’s required to be the adult, he thinks he needs to be another parents. Probably because of Molly always going “why can’t you be more like percy” or “percy i’m glad you’re so easy, not like your trouble making brothers” or something like that.

Around Oliver he can be genuinely himself, and I can see Oliver offering to give him flying lessons (though Percy suuuuuucks at flying and that is funny to me).

Anyway, Oliver has always known how he felt about Percy, but Percy never really came to terms with it (though he definitely felt the same way, he couldn’t fully accept it). He’s definitely attracted to Oliver in every way, but he also likes girls, and it’s confusing to him because he’s never been educated about bisexuality, so he thinks there might be something wrong with him.

I think Oliver was his first kiss, but I also thing Percy completely rejected the fact he enjoyed it. I think when Ginny wasn’t herself (when she was possessed by Tom Riddle), he cried like a baby and was stressed beyond belief, to the point of not sleeping, so Oliver would lie in bed with him and let him vent. Even though Percy would never confide in anyone else, not even Charlie or Bill, he could always talk to Oliver.

Then they kissed, probablyyyyy at the end of their fourth year, and that’s when things get awkward between them. Percy doesn’t respond to any of Oliver’s letters over the summer, he starts seeing Penelope Clearwater, Oliver is heartbroken but “it was just a kiss anyway, it didn’t mean anything”. He says he’s happy for Percy, and Percy is angry because part of him unconsciously was hoping Oliver would fight him on it, say he should break up with Penelope and date him instead (Percy secretly wants Oliver to fight for him, yknow?).

Remember that’s the year Percy starts getting a “big head”, but I headcanon it’s because that’s the year he really starts being at odds with Oliver, and starts struggling so much with his sexuality as well as his studies, the stress to be everything. When he graduates he doesn’t think he’ll see Oliver again and it crushes him, so he buries himself in his work to the point of being near impossible for his family to deal with. He’s not pompous, he’s just hiding his grief and confusion by trying to succeed and gain the approval of the family he loves so FUCKING much.

And when he has his fight with Arthur and walks out, that’s it, that’s the final nail in the coffin. He stops thinking, really. Stops caring. Just goes through the motions and tries to survive, even though he doesn’t know why he’s working at the Ministry anymore. He doesn’t remember what his ambitions are anymore. He doesn’t remember why he’s supposed to care so much. He broke up with Penelope years ago, so what is he even DOING anymore?

At the Battle of Hogwarts, he runs into Oliver again after YEARS of not speaking, and Oliver is older now and super handsome and Percy is flustered but he can’t pay attention because he’s fighting Death Eaters. Then Fred is killed and Percy is beyond devastated. He turns entirely hollow, and when the war is over he just sits outside where it’s quiet and he stares out at the wreckage and ruins of the battle.

Oliver sits down with him and they’re alone, and they talk, and they talk about Fred, and Percy cries, and for a moment they both think there’s something, maybe, but then Percy gets swept back into the crowd of his family, and there’s no more time to think about maybes, because there’s so much to do.

Percy stays in the Ministry under Kingsley, because he wants to make things right, but he doesn’t enjoy it. He hates the work, it’s stagnant and boring and eating at him day by day. He meets Audrey after a few years (after everyone else has gotten married and had kids). They get along, they like being around each other, Molly makes a quip about Percy not being married yet, so Percy proposes to Audrey and they get married (because that’s what’s expected of him, right?).

The bit of life he feels when he gets married doesn’t last. Oliver isn’t invited to the wedding of course, though George asks Percy if he should send and invitation. Percy says no, and he feels guilty and uncomfortable. Doesn’t know why.

Molly is born first. Lucy is born shortly after. Percy is so focused on his girls that he starts to neglect his wife. He does it unconsciously, avoiding her and not meeting Audrey’s eye. He makes an offhand note about wanting to be a stay at home dad when Lucy is a few months old, and Audrey goes off. It’s a huge fight, and Audrey storms out. They divorce a few months later, and after that, for a while, Percy is a single dad working full time at the Ministry to take care of his tiny daughters.

He runs into Oliver by chance. I think it would be cute if they met at the Quidditch store in Diagon Alley. Percy is getting something for Ginny’s birthday, Oliver is picking something up for himself (he’s single and still playing Quidditch professionally, he’s very accomplished and successful). They hit it off like old friends who’d never stopped talking, they start hanging out more, Oliver takes to the girls immediately and the girls absolutely ADORE Oliver (Lucy especially has a special bond with him).

They don’t start dating till a few months later, and after that they date for several years. Oliver moves in with Percy and the girls, and they get married when Lucy is five. Percy FINALLY quits his job at the Ministry, Oliver retires from Quidditch and takes over Ludo Bagman’s job at the Ministry. Percy goes to therapy once a week and Oliver is insanely supportive and loving. It takes Molly a bit of time to accept that Percy is marrying a man, but Oliver is so charming, and Percy has never, ever, in his entire life, been so happy QwQ

Percy Weasley marries Oliver Wood who encourages him to quit a toxic job and become a stay at home dad while Oliver takes over as breadwinner because Percy has been through so fucking much and Oliver just wants the chance to take care of him and he does. He does take care of him. And their two precious daughters as well.

I love they.

#nico answers asks #nico answers anons #percy weasley #oliver wood #perciver #penelope clearwater #audrey weasley #lucy weasley #molly weasley ii #percy weasly analysis

244 notes · View notes

lcdrarry · 4 years

Photo

LCDrarry 2020 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Under the cut, you can find out who created what ;D The works are listed in the order they posted during the fest.

Happy reading & squeeing & don’t forget to follow your favourite creators!

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami @celilasart and Suzi @erin-riwen

PS: Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

***

Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | "Love, Actually" - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: punk_rock_yuppie Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read "Love, Actually, is All Around" now on AO3.

***

Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | '"Yuuri!!! On Ice" - 2016 - Series Artist: RunningOutsideTheLines Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I'll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View "Drarry on Ice" now on AO3.

***

Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | "Groundhog Day" - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: p1013 Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he's going to kill him.

Read "Boats, but Not the Ocean" now on AO3.

***

When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | "The Way He Looks" - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Zzzara Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read "When I Put My Eyes On You" now on AO3.

***

Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | "Overboard" - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: mortenavida Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Summary: It’s been years since Harry left with Ginny to get away from the bad memories of war. The small town of Elk Cove, Oregon, had been a perfect place to raise their children. Now widowed, Harry works hard to make sure his children never want for anything. When an old rival steps into his life, everything changes and Harry finds the perfect opportunity to get back at Malfoy for everything the Slytherin did to him -- if he doesn’t regret falling for him first.

Read "Spellbound" now on AO3.

***

Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye" - 2017 - Series Author: meandminniemcg Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read "Of Labcoats and Animagi" now on AO3.

***

Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Cibee Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Read "Title of Their Sex Tape" now on AO3.

***

Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | "Beauty and the Beast" - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author/Artist: Miakagrewup Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read "Harry Potter and the Beast" now on AO3.

***

So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive

Prompt: #191 | "Secret Garden" - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: mycucumbereyes Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f----t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read "So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive" now on AO3.

***

i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | "Psych" - 2006 - Series Author: M0stlyVoid Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read "i demand to dig my own grave" now on AO3.

***

As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | "The Princess Bride" - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read "As You Wish" now on AO3.

***

Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye"- 2017 - Series Author: blowfish_diaries Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy's dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what's right in front of them.

Read "Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys" now on AO3.

***

Casecation

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Mfingenius Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: "Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they're walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read "Casecation" now on AO3.

***

Don't Blink!

Prompt: #179 | "Dr Who" - 2007 - Series Author/Artist: Gnarf Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It's not different this time.

Read "Don't Blink!" now on AO3.

***

A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Artist: ravenclawkward Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They've earned their celebration, wouldn't you say?

Read "A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz" now on AO3.

***

Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | "Shameless (US)" - 2011 - Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Summary: A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless. A story about the aftereffects of the Second Wizarding War and how Draco and Harry come together and break apart over and over. How maybe, somewhere along the way, they find a way to live with themselves.

Read "Change on the Horizon" now on AO3.

***

The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" - 2012 - Series Author: VeelaWings Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had fantastic ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out in his favor.

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read "The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways” now on AO3.

***

Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Triggerlil Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read “Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)” now on AO3.

***

Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | "The Bling Ring" - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Thusspoketrish Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Read “Super Rich Kids” now on AO3.

***

We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | "Yuri on ice" - 2016 - Series Author: remy_writes5 Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read "We Built This Right” now on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

245 notes · View notes