#that bullshit apology after yelling at him over the magic bowl doesn’t count in my eyes because she still went on

[barrelbastards]

So I started watching the 2nd campaign for critical role (I just finished ep 37 I think) and I’m just so irritated with beau. I mean before when all Caleb wanted to do was go to the library she demanded to know his deepest secret- sure she didn’t know what it entailed but seeing someone go into a near catatonic state makes it clear that this is some heavy shit- or she wouldn’t take him and then threw it in his face multiple times when she learned the truth and then when he thanked her for not telling anybody and wanted to do something nice for her as a thanks she said “I mean I still might tell people” and then there on a freaking hostile pirate ship in the middle of the ocean far away from everyone and everything with no means for escape and fjord had literally just said that he would tell them anything else pertaining to his dreams and shit he IMMEDIATELY lies to everyone (pretty obviously) and when Caleb pulls her aside to say something and she gets shitty with him and says that she just likes to know peoples secrets not share them???? Like so the only reason you asked Caleb was just so you could know and now that someone could be keeping secrets that could actively hurt you and your friends you’re just chill??

This reminds me of the scene where they’re all ganging up on nott after they tried framing the people in Zedash. It seems to me that everyone else is allowed to do whatever they want but not nott and definitely not Caleb.

#not tagging this as anything specific because i really don’t want to be attacked #idk how the fandom feels about her so I’m just gonna play it safe #but this really annoyed me so much that I didn’t watch the next episode #it’s like there’s a group and then Caleb and nott are on the outside even though they haven’t done anything wrong yet #maybe it’s just that beau and calebs personalities clash but he’s trying to be a friend to her #and she straight up is not trying at all #that bullshit apology after yelling at him over the magic bowl doesn’t count in my eyes because she still went on #to throw that shit in his face

[hermits-that-craft]

Chapter 49 - Experiment

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/62957518 TW- DEATH, DESCRIPTION OF BLOOD, MIND CONTROL, MAGIC

They walk back to the shopping district in silence, Grian leaning against Rose as Builder carries Protector, no one wanting to leave her in the dirt where she died. Tango carries Xisuma in his arms, Cleo picking up Wels after he collapses onto the bedrock.  Bdubs holds Grian’s hand, leading the group forward. There’s so much everyone wants to say. No one says it.

They walk through the portal, their tears exhausted from them. Zedaph runs to them, the hope on his face falling as he does a head count. He doesn’t ask where Impulse is. He knows where Impulse is, in a place where death would be a mercy and being awake is a curse that those who still breath long to be broken. Zedaph watches with tears in his eyes as Tango puts Xisuma onto a bed, praying his respawn will be set there. Tango meets Zedaph’s eyes and he collapses into the shorter mans arms, apologies falling from his lips. Cleo puts Wels into a bed nearby and leaves with Joe, tears she didn’t know she had left falling down her cheeks.

Grian just stands, staring at a wall with a blank expression. Iskall can’t get him to talk, nor can Rose. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t so much as move. There’s nothing behind his eyes, not even a spark of life. He’s empty. Hollow. A husk of the builder who had been with them only a few weeks ago.

“Grian, please sit. You need to eat something.” Evil Xisuma says, trying to pass him the bowl of soup that he brought in.

“It’s my fault.” Grian mumbles to the silent room. “Mum’s dead because of me. False and Impulse are gone because I was too much of a coward to save them.”

“It’s not your fault.” Evil Xisuma says, patting Grian’s back.

“Don’t lie.”

“No one blames you.”

“They should. I didn’t even try .”

“It’s not your fault Grian. It’s mine.” Builder says plainly, lying Protector’s body into a pinewood box.

“How? It’s not your fault.”

“I knew that this would happen.” Builder mumbles, and Grian spins around, tears in his eyes.

“No. No you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Then why did you let this happen!” Grian yells, and there’s emotion in his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Dad! There’s no way you would have let this happen if you knew. This is on my shoulders!”

“I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.” Builder’s voice echoes through the room, his eyes glowing white. Grian flinches away, but Builder doesn’t notice. He doesn’t notice as Evil Xisuma moves to block any thing that comes  “I KNEW THAT ONE OF US WOULD DIE THERE, AND I NOTHING TO MAKE SURE THAT IT WAS ME!”

“Dad stop!”

“We’re gods, Grian.” Builder spits. “Our fates were sealed from the second we became the first watchers. We both knew that one of us would be killed by Night.” Builder sobs as the ground shakes below them. “ Fuck , Grian. We tried to change fate. We tried . I thought being kind to Night would change them. I thought being kind to them would give us a chance of survival, that we wouldn’t have to wake up in the morning and wonder if that was the last time we’d see each other. Fuck, I tried to stop us from having to go through the painful task of being resummoned into the universe. Night never believed that fucking prophecy bullshit Cenn, Void, whatever gave out! But they fell for it. And It’s my fault.

Night fell into Void’s trap, and now we need to defeat them. And the only way we can do that is by killing them. By tearing them apart.”

Builder leaves the room, his eyes still glowing. Grian shakes as he collapses, tears streaming down his face as Bird worms his way back into control.

---

Night throws a book across the room, screaming in anger. They fell for it, for the prophecy. Princess watches, not with malousness, from the doorway, the way one would watch a car wreck.

They scream, ripping their mask off their face. Purple cheeks, wet with tears from eyes filled with rage. The mask is flung across the room as they collapse onto the ground, screaming in anger.

Princess walks over to them, patting their back comfortingly. Night punches her, throwing her across the room. Night snarls at the star, confusing her. She was just trying to comfort them, why would they hurt her?

---

Scar runs through the base, listening for False, Ren, Doc, Impulse, anyone to shout, to scream, to do anything. His sword is unsheathed, his eyes glowing blue as magic crackles under his skin. Scar throws open a door to a room, watching as Impulse and False perk up at the sight of him.

“Scar? What are you doing here?” False asks, a smile on her face.

“Went looking for Doc and Ren. Saw the others leave but not you two. I have to get you outta here.” He struggles to catch his breath as his shoulders heave. False stands up, helping Impulse to his feet. “We need to go. We need to get outta here.”

“What’s going on here?” King Silas’ voice scratches the small groups ears. “Did the mage decide he was better off with me?”

“Fuck off.” Scar spits, turning around. He stands between False and Impulse, still in the door frame of the cell. “I wish you had never been created.”

“Don’t speak to your king like that.” Silas growls, summoning some bright, electric blue lines of magic. “Unless you want to see your friends be boiled alive just like your parents.”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Scar screams, his eyes glowing a deep, ocean blue as he raises into the air, his magic audibly crackling like a campfire as it threatens to break through his skin. False and Impulse gasp and gape at him. The scars that litter Scar’s skin, most of which were given to him by Silas, glow brighter then a sea lantern as rage fills Scar’s features. “𝕚 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡”

Silas screams as magic explodes from Scar’s skin, vines growing through the cracks in the floor and in the walls. The rooms, once clean and free of plant life, are filled with dirt and vines.

Scar glows blue and gold, his magic flowing around False and Impulse as he tears Silas apart. The magic feels like a cool breeze on a summer's day, a warm fire on a winter's night. It sounds like the ocean, like leaves crunching in autumn. It smells like petrichor, like flowers, like safety.

Scar looks like an old god, dangerous and unpredictable. His magic screams in his ears like a wildfire, like lightning. He can’t hear Silas’ screams anymore, though he sees the blood, a stark contrast to the green vines and stone floors. Something smells as though it’s burning, and he doesn’t feel anything but he knows that its him. He’s used too much magic.

“Scar!” False screams as the mage falls to the ground, Silas lying dead only a few steps away. Scar hits his head on the floor of the cell, a large burn on his upper arm. False runs to Scar’s side, Impulse joining her. The two hermits tear his sleeve off of his arm, gasping in horror once more as a the burn is shown, branded permanently into his skin.

A perfect circle, about 2 centimeters wide, with a lightning bolt going through the middle of it rests on his shoulder, blistered and burnt into his skin.

“Serves him right for killing someone.” Night says, and False jumps, picking up Scar’s sword.

Night only sighs, using some magic to throw her and Impulse back as they pick up Scar, leaving False and Impulse alone once more.

---

Xisuma wakes in the middle of the night, bolting upright as he scrambles around to find Grian and Wels. He can’t let them get hurt, not because of him, not because he failed to stay awake for one-

“It’s alright.” Evil Xisuma’s voice is quiet, a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, X. You aren’t there. Not anymore.”

Xisuma looks up, his breathing shaky and his head spinning. A small snore Xisuma knows is Grian’s fills the room, the short man in a pile on the ground with Rose, Cub and Builder, the three of them sleeping peacefully. Wels also jolts awake, not calming down until he notices Grian and Xisuma.

They can’t sleep the whole night anymore. They can’t let the others down.

“Your turn to sleep.” Wels says, getting out of the bed and walking around. The knight paces, toying with his newfound freedom lightly, watching Evil Xisuma out of the corners of his eyes.

“You both can sleep.”  Evil Xisuma says, walking over to Wels. “You look terrible, rest. Heal up, I’ll keep watch for you, and tomorrow we can plan how to get everyone out. We’ll find Scar too. We’re going to get everyone back”

Wels glares at Evil Xisuma, walking past him and sitting next to his twin. Evil Xisuma sighs as a notification buzzes on everyone's communicator. Xisuma pales, the overworld air giving him too much oxygen. He feels sick, he needs his helmet back and someone has died by Night’s hand again, haven’t they?

“What does it say?” Wels’ voice is quiet, fearful.

“It- It says ‘GoodtimeswithScar tore VexKing apart with magic’.” Evil Xisuma looks up, tears in his eyes. “We’ll have to rescue Scar from Night too.”

---

Doc sits with Ren, trying to block out Impulse and False’s screams. He can’t think about what they’re going through, he doesn’t want to. They didn’t make it out. Scar lies down, asleep or knocked out, on the floor nearby. Ren’s breathing isn’t even, though he doesn’t wake up. It’s a light sleep, one that Doc doesn’t want to disturb no matter how much it appears that Scar needs to be moved into a more comfortable position.

Footsteps echo through the hall outside their- the cell that Doc is stuck in. He can’t call it theirs. They don’t own it, they don’t want to be here. It isn’t their cell. Ren stirs as Doc moves, gently untangling himself as the footsteps stop outside their door.

Night opens the door, their mask glowing, though a crack runs through the middle, glowing with the eyes and the unnerving, blank smile on the mask. Doc moves in front of the two sleeping men, and Night clicks their fingers, freezing Doc and Ren in place as they walk to Scar. The small man doesn’t stir as Night picks him up by his throat.

“All you have to do, to make me stop, is to join me.” Night smiles. “Let's make this interesting, too. Any pain he gets, the werewolf also gets.”

Doc growls, struggling against the magic. Night’s mask only glows brighter, and they throw Scar against the wall, a scream erupting from Scar and Ren’s at the same time. Both men are awake now, Ren struggling against the magic as Scar curls into a ball, almost as though he’s been here before. That he’s been hurt like this before.

Night sends a kick into Scar’s head, and Ren and Scar scream, Scar trying desperately to move away from Night.

“STOP!” Doc screams. “Stop, stop. I’ll join you, stop hurting them!”

“You made the right decision.” Night smiles, and Doc hangs his head in shame, Night’s magic attacking his brain. His last thought isn’t one of sadness, or of anger. It’s of hope, hope that Scar and Ren will be okay. Hope that he will not be used to hurt them.

Experiment stands, not looking at Ren or Scar as the two men stare at him with wide eyes. He’s a star now, he’s above them.

“I must request a new arm, I will need it to kill the traitors.”

Then he collapses like a tower of cards, Night’s magic sending him into a deep sleep.

#the night au #Night Au

[redactedrichie]

OKAY I NEED MORE REDDIE SOULMATE AU YOU DID PLEASE EVEN IF ITS LITTLE

Call me Fedex because I’m here to deliver

Eddie had had a long day. Between waking up late and getting a mark on his record for it, two exams, typical bullying nonsense (although it wasn’t nearly as bad anymore now that Bowers was gone), and his mother being on his case yet again about needing the inhaler filled with bullshit tap water, he was about ready to just give up and try and sleep for the next 12 hours in the hopes that the world would magically be less shitty when he woke up. And that’s exactly what he planned on doing.

However, Richie was having none of it.

“If you’re going to sleep the day away, at least do it at my house,” he had insisted as he literally dragged Eddie along by the hand down the sidewalk. “My parents aren’t home, your mom isn’t there, and my bed doesn’t smell like the inside of a hospital unlike yours.”

“Sterile isn’t a bad thing,” Eddie had grumbled, but he wasn’t about to oppose the idea. Especially when Richie had his hand intertwined with his own as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, and he could probably snatch another one of his soft sweatshirts while he was there.

So, despite the afternoon sun still streaming through the slits of the swaying bedroom curtains, Eddie had curled up on the cold side of Richie’s bed in an attempt to take just an hour nap, because he’d feel like he really wasted the day if he didn’t use the chance to spend most of it with Richie. He was the best medicine money couldn’t buy, after all.

At peace with Richie promising he’d join him soon, Eddie let his eyes flutter shut and tried to slip away into the bliss of sleep.

And he really would have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t for the-

Thump

Eddie popped one eye open, looking at his left hand resting against the edge of the pillow. The pulse had only gone off once–an oddity, if he was being honest–but it was strong enough to warrant his attention.

Deciding he was too tired to deal with what could have been nothing more than Richie tripping over his shoelaces again, his eyes drift back shut as he inches further into the sheets.

Thump

It’s nothing, of course it would be-

Thump

Maybe if he just-

Thump

It isn’t so loud, he can-

Thump

He can ignore it, he can ignore-

Thump

“Fucker,” Eddie growls as he angrily kicks the sheets off, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and muttering curses under his breath. The pulse calls him towards the kitchen, and he makes sure his footsteps echo loudly down each and every step. 

“Richie, what the fuck!” Eddie yells as he rounds the corner. 

Richie jumps at the sound of his name, hands held up in surrender and what appears to be flour smeared across his cheek. Behind him, the entire counter space is filled with bowls and spoons coated in what he can only guess is dough.“You okay, Eds? I thought you were napping, but you just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

“You-!” Eddie spits, but cuts himself off. Yelling at Richie would only lead to him pinching his cheek and calling him ‘cute when you’re all riled up!’. He takes a deep breath, and points at the messy countertop. “What are you doing?”

Richie holds up a wooden spoon in reply. It drips dough onto the ground. “I’m baking cookies.”

Eddie’s eyes skim from Richie, to the mess on the floor, and back to Richie. “Explain to me your process.”

“Sure!” Richie drops the spoon back into the largest bowl, and begins to count off his fingers. “First, I mixed together eggs, flour, butter, vanilla, sugar, baking soda, and a secret ingredient.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wanna know my secret ingredient?”

“Not really, no.”

“Ugh fine, stop begging me! I’ll tell you since you’re obviously dying to know! It’s maple syrup.”

“Gross, continue.”

“Then I get out the baking sheet-”

“Yes.”

“-roll the dough into balls-”

“Right.”

“-and that’s when I get out the blowtorch-”

“No!” Eddie crosses the kitchen in two quick strides, reaching around Richie and grabbing the blowtorch before Richie could. “What the hell, you have a stove!”

“It’s faster!” Richie protests, trying to wrestle the torch from Eddie’s tight grip.

“If it’s so fast, then explain those!” Eddie argues, gesturing toward the blackened pile of crumbs pushed to the side where Richie thought he wouldn’t see.

Richie blinks at him, shrugging meakly. “It’s a learning curve.” He sounded completely innocent, somehow not seeing the problem with using a blowtorch as a culinary tool. “Why did you stomp down here in the first place, grumps?”

“Because my hand kept buzzing each time you used this death wish, dumbass,” Eddie mutters, finally prying the torch away and setting it down behind him out of Richie’s reach. 

Richie’s eyes soften in reply, genuinely feeling bad. He always tends to apologize to Eddie every time he gets into trouble, still feeling like a burden despite all the times Eddie reassures him he’s not, that he likes knowing Richie’s there. That the pulse belongs to Richie, and that’s enough for him.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make you cookies for when you woke up,” Richie says, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “No blowtorches next time, promise.”

Eddie wanted to be mad, he wanted to be mad so badly, but who could stay mad at a face like that? 

“Alright, Rich,” Eddie sighs, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist and pulling him into a hug. “And no knives either, I don’t think I trust you in the kitchen alone.”

“Yeah yeah,” Richie laughs softly, pressing his cheek onto the top of Eddie’s head. “Whatever makes you happy, Eds.”

Hope that was what you wanted yikes

#thank for asking even though it turned out so long! #anon #ask #gyn answers #gyn also needs a life #reddie