#and as cads hair grows out it gets yellow :)

[i-dont-exis]

please ungrth,, no more

found out what i already knew: can't draw wyverns. I did fine going over the blocky version, but freehanding it? oh nonono sir

#aphmau #mcyt #laurence zvahl #lawrence zvahl #laurance zvahl #fuck man so many names #aphmau cadenza #uuuuuuhm #aphmau ungrth #the mom is back so thats rad 😎 #his sword is cardboard he just painted over it #so good for him #mystreet #was i tempted to abandon the shading? yes. #did i? no #why? #idk man i wanted to #if i ever draw ungrth again hes gonna be an axoltl #also inbetween orange and brown hair for laur its cute #and as cads hair grows out it gets yellow :)

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Empire Siblings and Feeblemind?

This was an absolute gift to receive! What an absolutely incredible combination for some Empire Sibs hurt/comfort. I had an amazing time writing this.

Hope you enjoy!

Every punch and kick caused Beau's injuries to tug painfully, but she didn't let that stop her from unloading on the pathetic excuse of a man struggling to stay on his feet. The entire battle her singular focus had been doing everything in her power to keep him locked down. No matter where he went, she followed immediately after him and did her best to stay between him and Caleb. She trusted the rest of the Nein to deal with the other while she put Ikithon in the ground.

In the middle of pulling her arm back for her next series of strikes, his shaking hands lifted to cast a spell that went flying under her raised arm. A yellow toothed grin told her the spell hit the target, but she didn't have the time to consider the implications of that. Her first hit stunned the beaten body allowing her to get three more punches off. As her fist slammed into his temple, his body began to crumple from the stress of her blows. A palm strike to the center of his chest cracked a number of ribs making it easy for her next punch to do significant damage to the organs underneath.

When he could do nothing more than gasp desperately for air and cough up blood, she circled around him to get a secure hold on his head. After turning him to see the broken bodies of his Scourgers around the battlefield, Beau tightened her hold to keep him in place. Without the sounds of battle filling the air, her voice remained low and deadly as she hissed out the final words he would here.

"Is this what you imagined? I hope it was all worth it because you'll be paying for it beyond today." Before he could gurgle out a response, the snap of his neck breaking echoed across the battlefield.

She pushed the body unceremoniously to the ground to deal with properly later, then looked for Caleb among the few people still standing. With every new person she passed over that wasn't him, the worry gnawing at her gut began to grow. A kneeling figure with their head tucked between their legs had her moving before she could completely process the red hair and wizard's robes. While she planned to drop to her knees next to him, Beau pulled up short when wild eyes looked up at her in fear. Caleb started to scramble backwards, until recognition finally shone in his eyes.

A pathetic whimper fell from his trembling lips as he launched forward to grab onto Beau with shaking hands. He clung so hard to her that she could feel her skin bruising from it, but the fear in his eyes kept her from forcing him to let go. When the nonsensical babbling started, the last spell Ikithon cast clicked in her head.

"Fuck!" Her harsh tone caused Caleb to pull back from her in fear, until she gently placed her hand on his upper arm. "Not you. You're fine. You can't even understand me, but you're fine. We are going to find Jester and Cad. They can help. Just..."

After a moment of indecision, she guided Caleb's hand to her sash and waited patiently for him to catch on that she expected him to hold onto it. Once she was sure he wouldn't immediately release it, all her focus went to locating their two clerics. With the others grouped together, it made it easy for Beau to decide where she would lead the two of them. Despite giving him something with slack, Caleb stuck as close as possible to her on the short walk to join the other. Instead of finding comfort in the familiarity of their group, Caleb shifted behind her and clung to the back of her coat.

The strange behavior immediately drew the others attention, which led to Caleb pressing his face into her spine. She could feel his accelerated breathing, but it didn't reach the levels of a full blown panic attack. With that small assurance, she turned her attention to the two clerics.

"Ikithon used Feeblemind on him. Please tell me one of you has Greater Restoration prepared."

Jester shook her head apologetically, then looked to Caduceus who had a small frown on his face. "I did, but I do not have the ability to use it. I need rest."

"So, he's going to have to deal with this for one night?"

"I am afraid so. We should find a safe place to settle for the evening."

"Right. Okay."

Slowly as possible, Beau turned to face Caleb and took both his hands in hers. When his wide eyes stared at her, Beau gave a shake of her head and lightly squeezed his hands. Caleb looked down at his feet with his eyebrows wrinkled up in confusion, then looked back up her. The beginning of tears bubbling in his eyes had her immediately pulling him in for a tight hug. He clung so desperately to her that she felt every tremor run through his body.

Once he decided to pull away, she ran a hand through his messy hair and took a hand that she held up between them. "I have you."

Even though she knew he didn't understand her words, his nod gave her some semblance of hope that the meaning of her words came across. With his hand in hers, they followed behind the rest of the party, until they reached a decent location to camp for the night. Instead of going through his normal routine, Caduceus immediately set out his bedroll and went to sleep-completely unbothered by the others setting up camp. Beau also forewent helping in favor of assisting Caleb with setting out his bedroll and getting him out of his jacket and harness. His hands reached up to stop her when she reached for the harness clasp, until she held up her fist and did a few mock punches.

Once Caleb was settled down, his eyes looked unexpectedly at her, then he motioned to her bag. She placed her bedroll down beside his, which earned her a satisfied smile from the man sitting across from her. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll her eyes like she normally would at his little intricacies that they both knew she grew fond of. Instead, she nudged his shoulder to get him to turn around, and began fixing his hair for him. Rather than the usual low ponytail, she braided it and tied it off with a blue bow.

He tugged curiously at the end of it and held it up to his eyes causing them to go crossed in the process. When he grew disinterested in the bow, Caleb let the braid drop to his shoulder, then looked uncertainly around the camp. The smell of food seemed to draw his attention, but he quickly dropped his head to pick at his boots. With an inaudible sigh, Beau quietly rose to her feet to get them both a bowl of food. Before returning to him, she exchanged a quick look with everyone else to find the same concern in all their eyes.

Rather than simply handing it to him, Beau waved the bowl underneath his nose to draw his attention to her. His hands slowly reached for the bowl, then settled it in the circle of his crossed legs with a small smile. As usual Caleb took his time eating, except it wasn't because most of his focus was on his newest book. While there was still an underlying anxiety radiating off him, he appeared more content.

Once he finished, he set the bowl aside and curled up on top of his bedroll like a sleepy cat. After moving their bowls out of the way, she followed suit, but her restless mind didn't let her sleep. The press of a body against hers finally convinced her to give up her poor attempt. She wrapped her arms around Caleb as she stared up at the stars overhead.

Hours past with nothing more than the steady sound of Caleb breathing and the wildlife to keep her company. The first signs of the sun crusting over the horizon colored the sky when the sounds of footsteps met her ears. Caduceus came into her field of vision as he knelt down next to Caleb and pressed a large hand against his back. A breeze from the Wildmother swirled around them, then slowly died down when Caduceus finished the spell.

"Thanks."

"You should sleep. He is in safe hands."

"Yeah, keep an eye on him when he wakes up."

"We will." Instead of returning to his bedroll, Caduceus sat with his legs crossed near enough to easily reach Caleb. "Rest now. You have earned it."

After a quick nod, she readjusted to a more comfortable position and buried her face in Caleb's hair to block out the rising sun. His fingers flexed against her back for a moment, but he gave no other sigh of waking. As she let her eyes fall shut, a sudden exhaustion hit her hard sending her immediately into a deep sleep.

#anon #critical role #empire siblings #empire kids #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #caduceus clay #hurt/comfort #feeblemind #platonic relationships #anxiety #cuddling #protective instincts #prompt fill #fanfic

[tigereyes45]

An Embrace like Her’s

A request for @ajcutiecat

Also on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27378811

If you have a request feel free to make one! We’ll all get through this election together!

                   ______________________________________________

The Midnight Hammer does not sway the way the Ball-Eater did when cutting through the ocean. What is unmistakably the fault of thick layers of ice before their path. Never had he imagine himself sailing. Forever Caduceus expected to spend his life peacefully in the Blooming Grove. Caring for the graves, growing his tea, brewing it for dinner as Colton and Calliope would finish the rest of their meal. Even now despite the bitter cold he can imagine those meals. Heat rising from the steamed veggies. Clarabelle preferred her tea hot, but his older siblings liked their cold. He'd pour there's first. Colton always finished his first cup before Calliope would even finish receiving her first. Then he'd heat the pot. To the point where it risked cracking the pot. Only then was it warm enough for the daring Clarabelle. His parents would both patiently wait for theirs to cool down.

He can still remember the way he'd pour each of their cups. Even that gentle breeze that would stick with them throughout dinner. Eventually even lulling them to sleep. It's easy to get lost in those memories. To crave rest after being gone for so long. Especially on a journey like this. When they go from one place so foreign and strange to another even further land. Another slight breeze of freezing cold air weasels it's way through his layers of clothes. He tries not to show his discomfort. In the end he's not alone in suffering this weather after all, and tonight was a moment of victory. Avantika was gone. If not forever then at least for now. Fjord must feel immensely proud of himself. He deserves to.

Heavy steps race across the cargo hold. It was a small area, so even soft steps echo and bounce off the walls. Yet whoever this was, was in a rush. Caduceus raises his head up from the warmth of his chest. There heading straight for him, was the very man who his thoughts were drifting too. Fjord, dressed in his regular clothes and a slightly heavier coat, was rubbing his hands furiously up and down his arms. His green skin was paler then usual. Could that be a sign of frost nipping at him? Worry grips him, and Caduceus catches himself frowning.

"Fjord,"

"Ah there you are Caduceus. Caleb said you were down below, napping." Nervously Fjord smiles. His teeth chatter as even his tusks bounce. They tear at his frozen lips. His skin ripping slightly from their points. The injuries were fresh. Caduceus watches as in these brief seconds of silence new cuts appear. That must hurt. Surely it does. Could he not feel them?

"I attempted meditating, but" Caduceus smiles politely. "the cold makes it difficult."

"Caleb says it may be a bit before he comes down to set up the dome."

"Today was a long day."

"This journey has been long."

Caduceus nods, unable to do anything but agree. "It has."

Fjord shifts in place. Turning his body partially away Fjord's eyes drift up. Instantly boots stomp above, as if on cue. The young warlock's yellow eyes flicker back and forth. He's nervous. If not for the cold Caduceus was sure his palms would be sweaty. They often were when he's unsure of what to say. Which means Fjord wants something. Caduceus sits straighter. Allowing his knees to fall to the side from where they were before. His chest aches from the sudden lost of heat.

"So are you tired?"

Caduceus leans his head to the side. Thankfully his hair drifts down, covering the slight curve of his lips. It's hard not to smile when he tries to be brave. It's admirable. Many things about Fjord are.

"I could rest." Swimming had taken a lot from him. Especially clinging to Caleb's whale back. Jester had far more control over those ropes then he had.

"Ah, alright." Fjord risks a glance back at him. His left hand instinctually moving to scratch the back of his neck. "Would you," he coughs quickly into his hand. "mind if I joined you?" Immediately red flushes his pale green cheeks.

"Only because it's so cold. It's easier to conserve body heat when you rest with someone else." Caduceus doesn't need the excuse. Slowly he nods taking some joy from the way Fjord anxiously watches. It's a cruel thoughts, he knows, but Fjord's face looks better when he's trying hard not to appear embarrassed.

Caduceus opens up his arms and Fjord walks closer. He tries not to look happy as he lays down. Even going so far as to not smile until his face was against Cad's chest. The embrace made the ship feel ten times warmer. Though it's entirely possible that it is his own racing heart, pumping blood throughout his body twice as fast as before that could be heating him up. That too would be because of Fjord. So the reason why he's warmer does not matter in the end. Only that they both were.

Gently Caduceus wraps one arm under Fjord's head. Carefully cradling him as his other arm snakes around his back. In return Fjord pushes his head deeper into Caduceus' winter outfit. His own deep green shirt never coming close to the lovely tone of Fjord's skin. Even when it's cold and has frost nipping away at him.

"Just until Caleb comes down." Fjord promises. Already his words were slowing down. A yawn escapes on the end of down.

"It can last longer if you prefer." He wants to ask Fjord not to move. If they could just stay like this for the rest of the journey his heart would never struggle keeping his body warm. Alas Caduceus knows how impractical that is. In the end Fjord will pull away. Perhaps because he'll be warm enough, or maybe it's out of fear of burdening Caduceus. One is understandable, but Caduceus will always try his best to alleviate the other. He never wants Fjord to feel fear in his arms. If he could, he would always be a warm, welcoming embrace, just like the Wildmother.

Fjord holds him tighter. One last squeeze of strength before drifting to sleep altogether. Caduceus waits for his hold to slack. He waits to have to hold Fjord closer in order to keep the pair of them warm, but Fjord's arms never let go. Not even a little bit. Graciously Caduceus takes it as a sign and a little less apprehensively he let's himself rest.

#cr #teahaw #fjorclay #critical role #critrole #caduceus clay #fjord #cr fjord #cr caduceus #caduceus #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ff

[malaismere]

ok so hey here’s a super long meta about all the little details in the new costumes!

First up! Fjord

The really interesting thing is how little he’s changed - the upper half of his armor is the same as his original designs, and it looks like the under layer is the same, just lighter in color. He has his fancy new wrap, though, and his boots, while the same style, have definitely shrunk. The cloak is added on, and the clasp of it (beacon shaped) means it’s just picked up in Xhorhas. And, of course, new sword. 

His hair is also the same, just longer. And he’s got tusks now! tusks!

The two interesting details are really small - there are barnacles on his chest armor and his boots (very Caduceus, Fjord) and a slight wave pattern on his armor. This might be from the transferred Mariner’s armor enchantment, or it might be some Wildmother Paladin shit. Either way, very cool.

Beau has kept basically nothing from her original look. Her belt is the same, she’s just no longer wearing it, and she still has the same earrings and the same staff (probably? it looks way more gnarled). Her hair is much longer, and she’s added a braid to the undercut. Very stylish. Very Yasha. 

Her coat is the one she got from Avantika,and she has her night vision goggles and those very stylish bracers of defense over the maelstrom gloves. Her new shirt, gloves, pants, and boots are presumably xhorhassian style, and the gold accents (along with the brown underside of the coat, give her a much less blue aesthetic.

Also, scars! Beau has a new scar over one eye and two on her chest. This is what you get for being a front line fighter in a crop top, Beau. Very cool.

Caleb looks much, much cleaner. Like Beau, it looks like very little has been kept from his original look - his tunic and belts may be the same, just cleaned and with upgraded buckles, but it’s much more likely that they’re just new. He’s clean shaven, and has longer hair. Ponytail Caleb is now canon and that means the world to me. 

Purple Xhorhassian coat, and the blue scarf is probably also Xhorhassian given the geometiric patterns, but there’s a chance it’s still the one that Jester gave him in Zadash. 

Frumpkin is looking good. The shadows is just him blipping back into existence. Probably.

And, of course, Caleb is free of the bandages on his arms. He’s really come a long way. 

Speaking of coming a long ways - Nott is also barely recognizeable from her first appearance. We have, uhhh, it looks like her pants might be the same as the bandages on before, and her foot wraps might be what’s under the boots, and she’s kept her piercings, but everything else? All new. 

Yellow dress and short Xhorhassian jacket is such a look. The button necklace is adorable. Tinkertop crossbow and bolts, scimitar, and the endless flask all on display, and there aren’t any bandages or hoods in sight. Her hair is also braided (much like Veth) and looks a lot cleaner than what was going on before. 

Sadly, given that they’re leaving Xhorhas, this look is not staying around for long. But hopefully it’ll be back soon because it’s absolutely beautiful. 

Jester’s new dress is gorgeous. The traveller-green Xhorhassian coat is super cute, and the sparkly beading is super cute. The under dress is mostly hidden, but it has a nice frilly petticoat and long sleeves just like her original. The flower embroidery on the arms is super cute.  It’s a little dark, but the pink socks, the haversack, and the jewelry make up for it. 

Her jewelry is all the same, but it definitely looks like bells have been added - which I remember was the original plan for Jester but cut out in case Matt decided to impose stealth penalties for the tiefling covered in little bells. Path without a trace for the win. The symbol of the traveller has been moved to Jester’s wrist, and changed from gold to silver - maybe she made the new one herself, maybe it’s the one she picked up in the safehouse in Labenda swamp. And, of course, axe swapped for sickle, for all the use that gets. 

Jester’s hair is also longer, and it’s now in fun buns (thanks for pointing that out, nerdymariamania). Absolutely adorable. 

Caduceus has a lot going on. The breastplate is the same, but everything else looks new. His shirt and pants are close enough in style they may be just a different pair that got brought with him, and they may be new. The gauzy sleeve is also significantly more tattered. It was not made to handle all the shit the Mighty Nein get into. 

The shield of retribution is one that got given to Fjord, but it may have been given back, who knows. The staff change is probably a sign that this is the staff of withering, but I don’t remember if Caduceus ever actually equipped that. The gloves and boots are new, and have already been infected by Caduceus’ spreading lichen, and the coat is also new and very Xhorhassian, and I don’t even know what’s going on with the magic there. It’s very cool, though. 

((update, looking at the process notes from ariana’s twitter, i’m pretty sure the blue....is even more lichen. Caduceus has a theme and he is sticking to it.))

Also, that belt was totally one of Beau’s old ones, and I’ve already tweeted at Tal & Marisha to see if they’ll confirm this, but I know it to be true in my heart. 

Caduceus’ hair has gone white, because apparently it’s pink because it has lichen growing in it? Caduceus, what is even up with you. It also is longer, and has added braids - very Yasha of you, Caduceus. He’s also shaved, got some sideburns, and styled his undercut with the Wildmother swirl.

And, thanks - Nerdymariamania & moriquendil & army-of-bee-assassins, Cad’s earring is now a lightning bolt for the Stormlord (curled in a similar way to the Wildmother swirl). I realized looking at the transcript of ep70 I misheard ears as ‘eaves’ which creates a very different view of that scene... 

Yasha... all i can say is that I have no idea what parts of this costume change are hers and what are her involvement with the Angel of Irons. The cloak is the same style as her original, just longer and blue, and that makes me think it’s hers. The symbol of the Stormlord is hers as well, I think. The outfit... I have no idea. But it doesn’t feel like Yasha. 

The chains are definitely from the Angel of Irons. Something something metaphor of the fact she kept the sign of her god but it’s been changed up. What’s interesting is the appearance of the pentagon that I’m pretty sure is used in Xhorhassian styles as a symbol for the Luxon. No idea what it means. 

I want Yasha to be okay so badly, you guys. 

#critical role #cr spoilers #critical role meta #cr meta #mighty nein #fjord #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #nott the brave #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #yasha

[mollymauk-teafleak]

more fjorclay

Happy Christmas @minky-for-short, thank you for being such a wonderful friend! 

-------

Fjord had spent so many years trying to be bigger. Standing taller than felt natural, setting his jaw to hide his tusks and look tough, keeping everything tense until it ached.

Hating what he saw in the glass.

Anything it took to convince the world and himself that he was big enough, strong enough to survive.

Melora had changed that. Caduceus had changed that.

With Caduceus he could be small, he could want comfort and he could live safely in the knowledge that it was okay.

Fjord lay on his stomach, one arm lying under his chin, the other reaching over so he could trace the patterns shaved into the underside of the firbolg’s sweep of hair. His fingertip carefully followed the curving, swooping path, a seemingly aimless wandering that actually contained runes and symbols when you looked closely.

“Who did this?” he asked softly, the first words either of them had said in quite some time. Though they hadn’t been quiet by any means.

“My sister,” Caduceus’ voice was raspy and low, his eyes not opening as he answered, “She enchanted it so it wouldn’t grow out.”

“And what does it mean?” Fjord felt like he asked a lot of questions when he was with Caduceus. Like it was okay not to know things.

“It’s a map, dear.”

“A map of what?”

Now Caduceus’ eyes did open, their unnatural purple colour glowing in the low light, too light to be violets, to deep to be lavender, like a sky constantly shifting between dawn and twilight.

“Me.”

Fjord liked that idea, that everywhere you’d been and everything you’d done could be written out so beautifully, “Could I do that?”

Caduceus smiled, his broad, kind face lifting with it, “I imagine it would have a lot of waves…”

Fjord grinned, aware that it made his tusks rest against his upper lip but not hating that, “Yes, most like.”

“It would look nice,” Caduceus reached out and rested his warm fingertips against Fjord’s cheek, bringing them up to comb through his dark hair, as if imagining where the pattern would go.

Fjord knew he was blushing, he could feel the heat across his cheekbones. How something as simple as that touch could get his blood up after everything they’d done since the inn door closed behind them, he had no idea. Some things just got to him more than others.

“My journey isn’t exactly the most...inspiring,” he murmured softly, feeling the words in another voice, at the back of his throat, “Maybe there’s some things I don’t want to carry for all to see.”

Caduceus’ face softened, his fingers slipping through the silky strands of Fjord’s hair, where it went from black to grey at the front, “But they’ve gotten you here, they’ve helped you be who you are right now. And I love who you are right now.”

Fjord had to close his eyes for a moment, he still wasn’t used to feeling so many things at once. Caduceus just lay on his back, fingers still softly stroking, giving him time. He always understood.

“I don’t know if I love who I am right now,” he eventually murmured, opening his eyes a little, just enough to see a rough sketch of Caduceus still there, still here for him, still listening patiently no matter what he said, “But I’m okay with being him.”

The ear that wasn’t pressed to the pillow picked up happily. They reminded Fjord of the bell shaped mouths of some exotic plant.  

“That means a great deal to the people who care about you, Fjord.”

People, meaning more than one. A whole group of people that could almost be called a family if you stretched the traditional definition. People he had been so scared of being unable to protect, people he’d been sure would find no more use for him after the loss of his magic. But it was only after that, after he’d felt himself broken down to less than he’d been before, that he realised he had a family. He had a calling. He had a lover. He had worth beyond what some demon from the depths could give him.

“Have, um…” Fjord had to clear his throat of the lump that was forming there, “Have I talked about my feelings enough to earn another round?”

Caduceus chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that was pure joy, “Is that what we’re doing? Trading personal growth for love making?”

Fjord stifled a fond groan. Caduceus always found the worst way to phrase it, he could never just say sex.

“It feels like it sometimes. That’s therapy, right?” he smiled, teasingly.

“Absolutely not, that would be quite unethical,” Caduceus grinned, teeth bright in the low light, the lantern had burned out long ago and there was nothing but the yellow moonlight in their little room, “Fortunately, I’m not your therapist, I’m your boyfriend.”

Fjord turned that word over happily in his mind. Boyfriend. He couldn’t even imagine having one of those a while ago but now he did, he couldn’t remember how he got along without one.

“Well, in that case…” Fjord rose up, pushing himself onto his knees and throwing a leg over Caduceus, straddling his hips.

Almost instantaneously, there was something hard pressing against the small of his back. The simple fact that Cad was big enough for him to feel the pressure there had that wonderful ache going between his legs, never mind how fast he could get it up at just feeling their bodies pressed against each other.

As calm and placid as he was, Fjord had soon found there were a number of different ways to wind his firbolg tight, to have him growling and begging and tense with need. But he didn’t want to do that right now. Right now he just wanted to feel like they were one person rather than two. He just wanted the closeness.

Caduceus reached back, massaging Fjord’s ass and slipping one finger into the crease of his body, “Still open enough for me?”

“Think so,” Fjord bit his lip, “Wouldn’t mind if you wanted to check…”

Caduceus smiled, even looking a little smug, pressing that finger against his hole, not insisting, only moving into him once his body gave him access. Sure enough, there was enough slack to his muscles from earlier in the evening to offer no real resistance but still he probed a little, just to see Fjord’s face tense in rapture and watch his chest flush, everything turning a warm, darker green apart from the scars that littered his body. The myriad of smaller ones and the two twin incisions across his chest that had actually been given time to heal cleanly.

“I think you’re ready,” Caduceus purred, the rumbling starting in his chest, “Talk to me, okay?”

Fjord nodded, knowing Caduceus would worry he was hurting him unless he communicated otherwise. Apparently he was much noisier than anyone else he’d slept with and it had startled him.

Not that his worries were unfounded, given his size compared to Fjord. It had taken time, a lot of exploring and going slow and morning afters where Fjord decided to gingerly walk alongside the cart rather than risk sitting in it. But now he was strangely proud of how easily he could cope with his firbolg lover and shamelessly turned on by their size difference.

So as Caduceus lifted him up, effortlessly, and seated him on his cock, Fjord loudly gasped and moaned in delight, “Gods, that’s good…”

Caduceus moved one hand from the half orc’s hip to cradle his face, “Sweet boy. I love how you look when I’m in you.”

Vision a little blurry, Fjord looked down at Caduceus, at his beautiful cloud of silky hair, growing paler by the day like a dying flower, at his slate grey hair glowing softly in the night, at his own slick beading on that fur where their bodies met. It could all so easily be too much, enough to make him come apart at the edges. But that hand against his face, large enough for him to almost fully rest in, kept him grounded.

He could feel small. He could feel vulnerable. He could allow himself to sink into it all and know there would be a way out.

He whimpered as he began to bounce on Caduceus’ cock, feeling his nerves come alive. Words spilled out of him in an endless rush, telling him how big he was, how much he loved to feel him, how he was his, always his. Caduceus said nothing in response, he only purred and groaned softly, saying much with just those gentle, loving noises.

“Can I touch you?” was the only thing he said, to an emphatic, desperate yes.

His fingers left his hip, letting Fjord take full control of the speed and intensity of his thrusts. Now one hand cradled his face, the other slipped down to the juncture of his legs. He pressed his thumb against Fjord’s clit, practically able to feel his pulse, the blood rushing wantonly under the skin.

After that, he was gone.

With a scream of Caduceus’ name, as devoted as any prayer, Fjord came hard. Caduceus was half a heartbeat behind, groaning through clenched teeth, filling him with heat. Muscles failing him, Fjord fell forward across the firbolg’s chest, enough to feel the aftershocks of his lover’s orgasm, the part of his brain still working delighting in knowing he’d caused them.

Once he was in control of himself again, Fjord sighed and pressed a soft kiss to Caduceus’ chest, shakily lifting himself up just enough to separate them. But still he didn’t move away, content to stay splayed across his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Caduceus’ hand still cradled his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbones, the ones he’d always hated for being so frail. His other hand caressed his bare hips, the one’s Fjord had despised all his life for being so curved. When they finally did roll over, Caduceus bent and kissed the twin scars across his chest, the one’s Fjord’s stomach had always clenched at because they reminded him that his body hadn’t always been somewhere he wanted to live.

Everything Fjord had resented and hated, Caduceus touched with such tenderness, all of it parts of a whole he loved. And when he did, Fjord could start to love them himself.

Caduceus really had changed so much.

#jackie #fjorclay #fjord #caduceus clay #smut #critical role

[sockablock]

Possible fic request - I've been thinking about Caduceus, and how he seems to be very familiar with the families from which he "gets" his tea. I kind of wonder if he knew any of them growing up, or if his family did? I'd love to read a like, short chapter fic that opens with a story of his meeting them, and then ends with him drinking their tea reminiscing.

- (Read on AO3) -

Their family name is Aigner, andthey arrive at the grove when Caduceus is seven.

His parents are thrilled, ecstatic even. It’s beenalmost a decade since the last visitors trekked through the Savalierwood andsurvived. They are ushered quickly into the temple that has been the Clayhousehold for centuries, and his family begins the process of making theirguests comfortable and treating their injuries. Caduceus’s father busieshimself in the kitchen, and his mother gets to work setting the ankle of theyoungest Aigner: a little half-elven girl who couldn’t have been older thanfive. 

Caduceus is very curious about her. Not just becausethey are the closest in size, but also because of her tears. Because of the wayshe wails after Mother gently takes her foot and pops the joints back intoplace.

He does not understand the crying—why should she be sadwhen she is being healed?

He tugs on Corrin’s sleeve as he rushes by with anarmful of towels, but gets nothing more than a hurried, “Later, Cad,later. We’re busy, right now.”

He is unsatisfiedwith this lack of a response, but does not let it show. His brother is right. This is the most activity their household hasseen in years. 

He hangs around the periphery as his parents and therest of his siblings listen to the Aigner’s request. The father, an older humanman with hair going early grey, has traveled here with his children to lay hiswife to rest. She was a follower of the Mother, he says, and her last wish hadbeen to return to the wild. 

He has brought her body. It is in a crude wheelbarrow bythe front of the temple. His greatest regret is that he could not have givenher a more dignified vessel.

But Caduceus’s mother just shakes her head. Shesays, “A greater regret is forgetting to cherish what you’ve already done.Look at you. Look at your beautiful children. Look at what you accomplished,today.”

Caduceus’s father adds, “Come on. Let’s look for agood spot. Today, our family helps yours.”

Caduceus is swept up in the tide of movement that comesnext. The father herds his three children out into the gentle forest sun, andCaduceus’s parents nudge their three children along as well. Father and Mother pushthe old wheelbarrow through the clearing, through thousands upon thousands ofblooming spring flowers. The grass below their feet is soft, the air sweet, awarmth and peace drifting across the grounds with every playful puff of breeze.

The Aigners look much better than they had an hour ago,though the littlest girl still seems perturbed. Caduceus wonders how that evercould be possible. This grove is the most serene place in the world.

Eventually, they all arrive at a small patch ofunclaimed earth. There is grass curling along the edges, but no life and noflowers mark the space as occupied.

Not yet, anyways. The father and older Aigner childrenhelp the Clays dig a pit.

They fill it. This part has never been anything butright. The most natural thing in the world is for a body to return to theMother who made it.

Even Caduceus, young as he is, knows this better thananything.

Then comes the part where the mourning family says a fewwords. Their still-fresh scars, just-closed wounds, the splint on the littlegirl’s foot, says more.

And then the hole is filled back in. The Aigner father fallsto his knees.

“I’ll see you again, my love. I promise.”

He pulls his children in close. They are in variousstates of tearful, as expected of a moment like this. 

Eventually, they stand. The father glances at Caduceus’sparents, and gives them both a faint, wry smile.

“She was supposedto outlive me,” he says. “She was supposed to outlive me by centuries.”

“Death can be unexpected,” Mother nods. “Even whenit is the only sure thing you can expect.”

The father gives a smile. He gestures slowly at theearth. “When will the flowers bloom?” he asks. “What will grow here?”

Cornelius Clay gives this a careful thought.

“Did she have a favorite flower?” he asks. “Perhapsa color she liked?”

“Chrysanthemums,” says a small, shaky voice. “Mommyliked chrysanthemums.”

They all glance down. The youngest girl had spoken. Herface is red from crying, her eyes are much too hard for her age. Her fists areclenched. Her shoulders are shaking.

For a moment, nobody responds. Her father, most of all,seems stunned. He reaches out as if to take her by the shoulder, but suddenly,Caduceus’s mother stops him.

She shakes her head. Then she turns to her youngest son.

“Do you remember the trick I showed you?” she asks.

Caduceus nods. Of course he does. He’s been practicingit every day.

“Do you know what flower we’re talking about?”

He nods again. He thinks he might know every flowerthere is.

His mother gives him a soft smile. “Then you’re incharge then, dear. Come back inside and let us know when you’re done.”

The father, Mister Aigner, blinks. “Wait, w—” hebegins, but then Mister Clay whispers something in his ear. Their eyes flickerover Caduceus, and then the little girl.

The father seems to understand. He nods. He crouchesdown, and murmurs to his daughter, “It’s okay. Take all the time youneed.”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t seem to want to.

Eventually, all of the older people leave. Corrin givesCaduceus a supportive thumbs-up as he runs after their parents back into thehouse.

And then, Caduceus and the little girl are alone.

There is a moment’s pause. Filled with song of a far-offswallow.

Then Caduceus turns towards her. He says, “Why areyou upset?”

She stares at the ground. She bites her lip.

“’Cause Mommy’s dead.”

Her voice is a rasping whisper, and a groan of rage allat once. It is a terrible sound to come from the heart of a child.

But Caduceus is confused. He takes a seat against thebarren dirt.

“So what?” he asks.

The girl seems thrown by this question.

“So…what?”

He nods. She considers this. Eventually she settles on:

“Mommy’s gone. That’s what.”

Caduceus blinks and tilts his head. “I know that,”he says. “That’s what happens when people die.”

The girl does not take this nearly as well as he thoughtshe would. She kicks the ground and whirls around on him.

“I know!” she shouts. “I know! That’s…that’s…Mommy is gone. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back. How come?” shedemands. “Why? Why did thathappen? It’s not fair!”

“It’s not,” Caduceus agrees. “But it happened. Idon’t know why. You dad didn’t tell us. Did he tell you?”

The little girl shakes with emotions she could neverfully understand. That nobody really could.

“He just says that sometimes, people go away,” she cries.“Sometimes stuff happens, and they’re gone forever.”

Caduceus nods. This information is more in line withwhat he had been brought up to know. 

“That’s what dying is,” he says. “It’s natural.”

The little girl stares at the ground again, and then staresat the weird, skinny, fur-covered boy in front of her.

After a pause, she takes a seat next to him. She crossesher arms.

“I don’t care,” she says. “I just want my momback.”

Caduceus, at least, can sympathize with that.

“I’m sorry she’s gone. I’m sorry you’re sad.”

She huffs. She folds her knees up and wraps her armsaround them.

“It’s not fair,” she says again, quieter thistime. “It’s not. Why does dying happen?”

Caduceus thinks for a moment. This is a question he hasbeen pondering for some time, now.

“I think…I think that’s just the way things are. Ifpeople didn’t die, then the world would be different. I don’t know how, yet,but I know that it’s bad.”

“How could it be bad?” the girl mumbles. “In thatworld, my mommy is alive.”

They sit there in silence, for a while. The swallowdarts across the sky and disappears into the trees beyond.

Then Caduceus asks, “Why did you cry, before?”

The girl lifts her head. She gives him an odd look.

“What?”

“Before,” he repeats. “When Mom fixed your foot.Why did you cry?”

She gives him a glare that manages to convey, in asecond, how incredibly stupid he must be. 

“Because it hurt,” she says. “Duh.”

Caduceus sighs. “But you got fixed, after. Theworst part was over, and now you can get better.”

She stares at him. “But it still hurt,” shesays. “Right now, it still hurts a little.”

He blinks. He’d never thought of it like that.

They are quiet for a little longer.

Then the girl says, “I wish she was here right now.She makes me feel better.”

“How?” Caduceus asks. 

“She just does.”

Caduceus looks at the ground. He puts his hand to thedirt and runs his palm along the earth.

“She can’t come back,” he says softly. “You knowthat, right?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Caduceusnods. “I am sorry,” he triesagain. “Really. I…I wish I knew how to make you feel better.”

“I wish you did too,” the girl sighs. Her chin isresting against her knees. “I just miss her. I wish she wasn’t gone. Iwish she was here, instead of just stupid, empty dirt.”

Caduceus considers this. Then:

“Chrysanthemums?” he asks.

The girls’ eyes dart up again. “What?”

“Your mom’s favorite flower. Chrysanthemums, right?There are different colors. What kind?”

The girl opens her mouth. She closes it again. Shefrowns, and thinks, and then looks relieved when she remembers.

“Yellow.”

He nods. 

“Okay,” he says. “Watch.”

Caduceus Claygets up from the earth and carefully brushes off his trousers. Then he crouchesdown again, presses his palms to the ground, closes his eyes. His hair driftsagainst his face in waves, and the corner of his mouth is curled inconcentration. He has practiced this spell many, many times before, and though he knows what he is doing, thisis the first time he has done it for something as important as this.

 Chrysanthemums, he thinks. Yellow Chrysanthemums.

He feels the soundless squish of fertile earth beneathhis fingers. He feels the caress of twirling air past his cheek. He feels thesun warm on his back, smells the sweet song of spring nectar, bites down on histongue to focus and hears the lilting, far-off cry of a swallow.

He feels the magic taking hold. He feels somethingstirring in the soil.

When he opens his eyes, it is to see a wreath of swayingblooms. He is suddenly crouched shoulder-deep among tall green stems of thatend in bursts of thin gold petals, like thousands of tiny fireworks pressedtogether in light. They shuffle as he stands, as he admires his work, turns tobeam with pride at the little girl he has done this for.

But then he pauses. He frowns.

Mixed within these yellow chrysanthemums are dozens anddozens of a different sort of plant.

These are much taller, to start, towering over thechrysanthemums by a good foot or so. They are thin, and fragile-looking, andlean with the wind as it blows in across the clearing. Their stems are coveredin wide clusters of red and purple and pale pink leaves—no. Not leaves, butflowers.

It takes Caduceus a moment to realize. 

“Sweet pea?” he breathes out, confused. He takes a stepforward, and catches one in his hands.

“Sweet pea,” he repeats. “Huh.”

And then there is movement. The little girl has stoodup. She has taken a step closer, and is pressing a finger to the petals too.

“Is that what this is?”

Caduceus nods. “Yeah. Um…sorry. I didn’t mean forthem to happen.”

But the girl seems entranced. She just shakes her head.

“No, um…no,” she says. “It’s…my mom called methat. She said it’s what her mom called her.”

Caduceus blinks. He looks at the flowers.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh. I…oh.”

She runs her finger along a petal with the utmost care.

“It’s pretty,” she murmurs. “It’s…it’s reallypretty.”

Caduceus is encouraged by this. “I’m glad,” he saysquickly. “I wanted to help. And you said that this place was empty, so…Iwanted to change that. I can’t bring your mom back, but I can at least makesure that something’s here.”

The little girl glances at another swaying stalk.

“Sweet pea,” she repeats. “Huh.”

Caduceus twists nervously at his sleeves.

“Is it…is it—”

And then a pair of arms slide around his waist.

“Thanks,” the little girl whispers. “It’s not the same,but…it’s nice. Thanks.”   

Caduceus grins. Relieved, and thrilled.

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” he says one last time. “I’m gladI helped.”

She gives a soft nod.

And all around them, flowers sway in the breeze.

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

more filled requests here!  -  💜 ☕ ☕💜

#critical role #critfic #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #this got OUTRAGEOUSLY LONG #IM SORRY IF THE CUT DOESNT WORK #critrole #jay writes #jay fills requests #caduceus clay #cr2 #AND THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN!!!!!!! #I HAD SO MUCH FUNNNNNNNNN #<333333333333333 #long post #text #long #asleepythief

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Caduceus Clay has fought a few grave robbers in his time, but this is the first time he’s ever had to do it by himself. A quick backstory fic about the kind of trouble a hermit grave cleric might get up to. whump-fic ish (ao3)

It’s a little more work to tend the temple grounds by himself. Not necessarily more work than Caduceus can manage, but enough work that he can reasonably spend an entire day at a single part of the caretaking and still have more to be done the next day.

The point is, some days, he gets tired without his siblings to help.

Caduceus wakes drowsy, his face pillowed comfortably in the crook of his arm with the hum of cicada in the distance. It’s the heat of the summer and he’s comfortably, warmly, sore though his upper back and pectorals. His fingers ache a little with the repetitive work of replanting around the barrier fence and there is a vague but persistent—he must admit—hum of silence that’s started to be distracting. The Blooming Grove is loud with plant and wildlife. It’s just adjusting to that spot of silence. That quiet where his sister used to comment warmly on the progress of wisteria long the south wall.

He’s not sure what woke him.

For a moment he just blinks slowly, the warm yellow heat of sunshine laid in sections cross his shoulders and back. He did, actually, simply put his things aside and lay down in the grass near the temple, curling up there and dozing off to the sound of summer and the smell of green things. He yawns. Massive, lazy, tongue curling a little with the force of it. He quirks an ear toward a sound, a crunch leaves almost directly to his left across the grave plots near the barrier fence. He pushes himself up a little on one elbow, a thick section of pale pink hair sliding forward from behind his ear as he peers at the fence.

There’s movement there.

Someone is trying to get a look through the bramble. He can hear it more obviously now: boots on leaves as someone shoves at it. There’s a person-shaped shadow between the vines.

“Can I help you?” Caduceus calls out.

There’s a pause, then a low voice says through the briar, “I’m looking for the groundskeepers here.”

“You have one,” says Caduceus, sitting up. “Apologies, I was sleeping.”

“Where’s the rest of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The others. The other groundskeepers.”

Caduceus blinks slowly, a niggling disquiet pawing at him. “They’re out collecting in the forest. How can I help you, friend?”

Silence. Then, “You’re the youngest of the groundskeepers here, aren’t you? The one that doesn’t come into town.”

“My name is Caduceus and, yes. My brother and sisters handle that mostly.”

“They haven’t come into town in a while.”

“It’s summer. We don’t need to come into town.”

“For five years, they haven’t been in town.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I’m sorry, is that a while?”

Another longer pause. “No. It’s no trouble. I’ve been sent to ask about requirements to inter the dead here.”

“Has someone died?”

“They’re near death. Can you come to the fence please?”

Caduceus rolls over, picks up his staff from the grass near his head and ambles toward the fence, peering with a little difficulty through the bramble and the iron bars and the creeping ivy. He can somewhat make out a tall, lightly armored individual. A half-orc maybe judging by the slight catch in their Common that suggests speaking past tusks. Clay can hear the slight clink of belting that suggests they’re weighted with weaponry. Completely normal given the incredible danger of the Savalierwood.

“Are you alone?” Caduceus asks, concerned. “You shouldn’t travel through the wood on your own.”

“I’m paid to move fast and by myself.” The half-orc is peering through a gap in the barrier wall’s plant life, just the size of a person’s palm. “Hello. I’m Merrin, by the way.”

Caduceus has to bend down a little to peer back, sees a pair of amber eyes blinking through the vines. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

The gaze flickers up and down a little. “Hmm. You’re an interesting color, aren’t you?”

“I suppose,” Caduceus says mildly, leaning on his staff. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard you only inter certain kinds of people here. Before we bring a party through the wood, they wanted me to come here and clarify to ensure we don’t unnecessarily endanger anyone only to be turned at the gate.”

“Well understood,” says Caduceus.

“Could I come in and have this conversation or…?”

“I’m afraid I don’t open the gate unless absolutely necessary. It breaks several of the warding lines here, but the conditions are fairly simple. We cannot inter any dead who lived a life undeserving. If their loved ones have any doubts, they should not bring their dead to us. If they do, we can of course provide burial services outside of the grove, full ceremony and blessing, but not within.”

“Okay. That’s all I needed. That and, well, confirmation someone was still out here to meet us.”

“Of course.” Caduceus flicks an ear idly toward the opposite side of the fence, listening for the sound of other unannounced visitors. “It’s a little odd to come this far for just that. The Mardoons have a few Savalier hawks trained to carry messages safety to and from our temple. Did they not volunteer their use?”

“My employers aren’t personal friends I assume.”

Caduceus tilts his head. “No?”

A pause.

“Definitely the pretty one in your family, aren’t you?”

Caduceus blinks. “Pardon?”

But Merrin already moving away. “Anyway, thank you for your help, Caduceus. I’ll see you again soon.”

And then Merrin is gone, fading into the Savalierwood and then it’s just the sound of the cicadas and the rustle of trees. There’s that silence again that Caduceus is getting used to, where he feels his big sister would have had additional commentary. He thinks she wouldn’t have liked all those questions and he follows that instinct over the next few days, murmuring to the briar and bramble to grow tight and wind high around the iron fencing, to choke out all the gaps that might allow outsiders a chance to stare through and make comments about resident groundskeepers.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since his parents left the grove or how long since his brother and second oldest sister followed. But he knows, now, it’s been five years since anyone saw a member of his family. He wonders, again, if that’s a long time. So many seasons alone since his sister left to find the rest of their family who have been gone much longer than that, but he can’t say exactly how long that is out there. Time swallowed by the trees and the tombs.

“They’ll be back,” he says to the morning glories near the temple door. “It’ll be fine.”

***

It’s less than a four days later that they come.

Clay is tending to the garden in the back of the temple grounds when he hears their approaching footfalls, four of them, the rattle of equipment heavy on their persons and in the time that he hears it, two sparrows land on the tomato trellis he’s working on and chirp furiously at him. Caduceus knows that urgent tonality and quickly grabs his staff from the tilled dirt, light rushing gently into the amethyst at the head of the gnarled branch. The canopy is getting noisy now, hundreds of crows and smaller birds kicking up a screaming cacophony. Caduceus darts from the garden into the temple, masking the sound of his moving.

“Hello?” says a voice from the front gate. The one long since barred shut by briar and twisting vines. “Anyone here?”

Caduceus kneels in the corner that makes up his sleeping quarters, stripping his thin gardening shirt and grabbing a thicker long tunic. He puts it on. He tugs the length of his hair out of the collar, pulling it back and deftly knotting it against the base of his skull then twisting it up securely against the back of his head. His sister’s voice in his ear says, ‘In battle, don’t give them anything to grab onto. You understand, Cad?’ He can hear them trying the gate outside. He grabs his armor from by the door, pulling it on over his head and snapping the clasps up the flank. The overlapping chitin whispers as he bends at the waist to grab his staff.

“We’re looking for the groundskeepers here.”

Caduceus grabs the small plate that serves as a shield, sliding his arm into the straps before getting up and making his way outside toward the main gate. He stops a good ten feet from the fence and glances up. Crows have lit along the eastern barrier, are hopping north, indicating that someone is moving along that side of the hedge.

“I’m here,” says Caduceus. “How can I relieve your pain, friends?”

There’s a beat. Someone murmuring. Then, “We come to you with our dead, groundskeeper. Can you help us?”

“Who has passed?”

“Emory Oakfall. A healer from the southern towns to Shady Creek Run.”

“How do you know them?”

“I’m a friend. My name is Drek Von. Emory lived a good life and always wished to be interred here, in the grove of the Wildmother. Can you help us?”

Caduceus contemplates momentarily. Then, “How many are here with you?”

“Three.”

Caduceus glances to the crows along the south fence. “Aren’t you, in fact, at least four?”

Another quiet. Then a sigh, “Look, we don’t want to make this difficult. Your name is Caduceus, isn’t it?

“Yes.”

“We know you’re alone here, Caduceus. Merrin staked it out for us. The others have all left, haven’t they? Your family?”

Caduceus backs away from the gate a little. “I’m not alone here.”

“Open the gate, groundskeeper, or we’re going to come inside and if you make it difficult for us, we’re going to make things difficult for you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I think,” says Caduceus, “that you want to make my life difficult either way, Drek. It’s in your voice.”

“Then believe me when I say this: We’re going to take what we want from this place. Whether or not we hurt you while doing it will largely do with how much you cooperate.”

Caduceus is already running to the other side of the fence.

Just in time as a figure dressed in light leather armor and padding (likely to circumvent the thorns) comes over the top of the fence with a short dagger between their teeth… and are immediately assailed by pecking crows. Caduceus throws out a hand and sound of deep bells sound, as if from deep in the forest, and the man on the wall screams as black veins spider dark across his face. He topples into the yard, body thumping unpleasantly from the fifteen-foot fall. They lay groaning and Caduceus smells smoke.

He pivots, sees flame from the vines at the gate, vicious and unnatural. Rapidly consuming the briar and greenery.

He turns and cracks the head of his staff across the first intruder’s skull, hard enough that they’re either going to be dead or very concussed, then runs back toward the front gate. The living green vines and briar aren’t catching as well as his assailants would like, but they appear to be using accelerant of some kind because the flames persist rather than smother. Caduceus feels a burn of low panic rising through him, the shivery buzz of adrenaline though his body sliding into an unstable compound of dread and indecision.

Calm down, says his sister’s voice. Don’t let them in. Force them to climb. Make them bottleneck.

He breathes, moves toward the gate, a glow spinning up around the crystal in his staff—

And there’s a hiss and something stings the muscle in his upper right thigh. He stops casting, looks down… sees a dart the size of his thumb lodged there and feels almost immediately a cold numb spreading from the point of injection. He yanks the needle out immediately and runs to take cover behind a large head stone, leaning his shoulder against it while the relentless crawl of paralyzing poison soaks through his thigh. He presses his palm to the wound and a surge of healing pulses through the sinew. The magic pushes the poison from the wound until the terrible numbness is gone…

He can hear the gate rattling behind him. He leans around the headstone – sees three armored figures now gripping the bare bars and working on the chains that wrap the front gate shut. Caduceus taps his staff and the familiar shiver of invisibility slides across his body. He darts from behind cover again, rushes toward the gate. There is the half-orc he knows (Merrin) and a massive half-Goliath, easily over seven feet tall, gripping the bars in a huge gloved hand. He’s watching the work of a smaller elven man who is trying with difficulty to pick a scorching hot lock.

Caduceus doesn’t wait.

He darts up to the gate, still invisible, shoves a hand through the bars and grabs the lock-pick’s wrist just long enough to cast a vicious infliction of wounds. The man screams as two dozen deep, bleeding wounds just burst open, leprous and rotting and in that instant Caduceus becomes visible again and lunges back from the gate as the other two swear and grab at him, fingers closing on a part of his sleeve and just barely tearing through the tie that holds his hair back. He gets free of them, hitting the ground and scraping his palms, twisting to look over his shoulder where the other two are shoving the wounded (dead?) man out of the way. The part-Goliath rears back. He brings a hammer up over his head and cleaves the lock from the gate with a single monstrous downswing.  

The gate flies open.

Caduceus scrambles back, trying to get his feet but in the time it takes him, Merrin is across the ground and immediately swings down on him with a stone-headed club that smashes into his unarmored thigh, sending a crippling crack of pain straight up his hip into his torso. He yells, twists up and kicks Merrin so hard the man flies like he got the worse end of a stallion’s hoof. But then Drek (this must be Drek) is on top of him. He doesn’t use his hammer, but he grabs and tears the staff out of Caduceus’ hand – so fast he doesn’t have time to fight for it.

Then the man is on top of him and it’s… it’s like wrestling with his older brother.

His older brother is twice as heavy and three times as fast as Caduceus.

He thrashes, shoving at the man’s face but he largely ignores it. He doesn’t get on top of Caduceus directly, but gets alongside him, behind him, hooking an arm up under his armpit and locking both hands together across the nape of the firbolg’s neck, shoving forward so the whole of his Goliath-dense weight is on top of him Caduceus thrashes, gets his knees under him, then one foot and before Drek can do anything about it, Caduceus is standing up with the massive Gollath hanging onto him… and then he just throws himself sideways and slams down directly on top of the Goliath.

The man roars, holds on tighter…

So Caduceus rolls hard, gets his leg under him and he does it again.

There’s an audible crunch and a big ‘oof’ from the Goliath, but Drek keeps his full arm bar over the nape of Caduceus’ neck and this time he fights the firbolg’s efforts to get leverage again. Drek rolls, keeps Caduceus on the ground and pins him chest down in the grass. His breath against Caduceus’ neck is controlled, calculated, calm.

“Stop struggling,” he hisses. “Don’t wanna hurt you, groundskeeper.”

Drek torques his elbow and the angle threatens immediately to pop Caduceus’ shoulder out of socket. Caduceus yells because it really hurts, feels the Goliath shove him down even harder. His hair is loose now, tangled and in his eyes, leaves caught up in his mane and that’s when Merrin rejoins the fray. He slides on one knee right beside Drek, hooks an arm around Caduceus’ right thigh and starts looping rope around the limb, like you hobble an animal. Panic makes Caduceus thrash, but he can’t get them off. He can’t –

“I said stop fighting,” Drek snarls.

In Sylvan, Caduceus shouts, “Help! Please! They’ll destroy this place!”

And the crows that know his temple swarm the intruders. They darken the yards, pecking and screaming. A cloud of ravens and crows descending and tearing at the two graverobbers. Merrin screams and swears, falling back.

“Godsammit,” hissed Drek and he seizes a fistful of Caduceus’ hair and slams his skull against a ground and everything goes immediately dark.

***

Caduceus comes around to someone carefully applying a damp rag to his aching skull. For a dull, vulnerable moment he can’t remember why his head hurts so much and when he moves, his right knee grinds and sends a bolt of bone-shattered pain through his entire body. He jerks reactively, a throttled moan catching in his throat and someone quickly touches his forehead. He feels fingers parse blood-sticky hair from the shaved part of his skull, pressing the compress there again. Caduceus lays still for a moment, vertigo sending him spinning along dizzy orbitals across the grass. Entirely by instinct he says his sister’s name.

“Afraid not, groundskeeper.”

Caduceus opens his eyes.

Merrin is kneeling over him. He’s big for a half-orc, his complexion a green-ish gray, tusks capped in silver. Scars across his forehead and into the short sections of his hair. He’s holding a linen rag against Caduceus’ head and the cleric doesn’t have to move to know his arms are bound at the middle of his back, knotted together in loops and loops of heavy rope. His armor lies in a pile by a headstone. The grass under his body is cool against his face and chest through his tunic. He doesn’t try to move, just lays still, staring uncertainly up at the graverobber while they wipe blood out of his fur.

“Your leg’s busted,” he says, calm as a summer day. “Right above the knee. So no trying to be clever.”

“What are you going to do?” Caduceus tracks Merrin with his eyes alone. “What do you want?”

“We’re digging up the Mardoons, first of all. So you need to tell us which graves are theirs.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“You will. Because you’re alone out here with us.” Merrin lays a bare hand against the top of Caduceus’ hair, fingers sliding into the long part so it’s almost comforting. “We have all the time in the world to make you tell us…”

“If I help you, are you going to let me go, Merrin?”

He sighs. “I think you know we aren’t.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“No.”

Caduceus reads the way his eyes rove, then says, “You’re going to sell me.”

Merrin studies him before answering. “You know I’m a pretty good artist.” He digs around in his pocket, produces a small flip book and begins to leaf through it. “I showed a few traders a sketch. Here. Take a look.”

He shows Caduceus the notebook. Inside is a small drawing in charcoal and chalk, a very striking likeness of Caduceus – asleep, curled up in the grass in the graveyard. There’s a strange affection in the details, in the line of his jaw and the bramble shadowing in his brow, where his eyelashes lay against a gray cheekbone. His hair pools like water in the image. It’s a slightly exaggerated representation, the limbs more cat-like in line and curve, his clothes rucked up near the waist and shoulders, unflattering but in a way that makes it seem the viewer is getting a look at something they shouldn’t be.

Caduceus doesn’t need to see much more to understand what Merrin’s selling with this picture.

Merrin flips the notebook closed and pockets it again.

“You watched me that long?” Caduceus asks calmly.

“Yes. There’s quite a bidding war you know.”

“Seems like a waste of money, but okay.”

The half-orc peers at him for a moment, then he reaches down and takes a fistful of Caduceus’ hair and almost casually yanks his head back. “You don’t scare real easy do you? So… let me ask you this: You’ve never been into Shady Creek right? There would have been word if a weird fucking firbolg showed their face around the townships so I’ve gotta assume...” Merrin smiles a little. “You haven’t gotten around?”

“I can disguise myself you know. We all can.”

“You’d best answer me,” Merrin says easily. Their hand moves off Caduceus’ hair, slides down to his jaw, his thumb pressing gently then less gently against the soft part of Caduceus’ lower lip. Merrin smiles. “I could break you in a little, but you’d sell for more if we left you alone...”

“Knock it off, Merrin.”

Caduceus glances past the man kneeling over him. The half-Goliath, Drek, is seated on a rock, eating unwashed carrots from the garden. The sun’s setting. Dusk light still dapples the grounds around the giant grave robber. One of his compatriots lays in a cot with their head bandaged nearby. The one that came over the back of the fence. Caduceus can smell that he’s been dead for about half an hour. He can also smell fresh turned grave dirt, mud, and torn grass. There’s soil underneath Drek’s gnarled fingernails and a shovel laid in the lawn nearby.

“You killed Lee and Saundin,” the big man says to Caduceus. He tosses the rest of the carrot and stands up, dusting his hands off. “You’re tougher than you look, aren’t you, firbolg?”

“I wouldn’t know. Do I not look tough?”

“For your kind? Nah. Rest of your family—those were some big-ass scary giant-kin. What’s wrong with you?”

“Just the runt of the litter,” Caduceus says carefully.

Drek sighs and crosses the space between them, kneels across from Merrin, and with a brisk business-like grab, he pulls Caduceus over onto his back and vices thick, blunt fingers along his jaw. He yanks Caduceus up a little, forcing his head back and holding his gaze with a calm but clear impatience. This close, his breath is stinking and hot, enough to make a firbolg’s eyes sting.

“You ever been real hurt before, Caduceus?”

Caduceus gauges that question, keeps his chin raised, gaze direct while he answers, “A dire wolf mangled my leg when I was younger. I’d say that’s the worst.”

“Good. Good.” Drek takes two fistfuls of his collar, fingers curling so tightly it starts to make a noose out of the cloth. “Let us be clear: Tell us which grave is the Mardoons’ or it won’t be the worst you’ve been hurt.”

“I don’t—” Caduceus starts to say, but stops, one ear twitching up. He glances over his shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

Drek sounds annoyed. “What?”

Caduceus looks the other way. Waiting. Distantly, almost too far away to identify, he hears a low noise. Like a high rattling screech of a barn owl but far, far too strange to be an owl or any bird that he knows. He looks back at Drek.

“Did you close the front gate?”

Drek backhands him. He does it like you whack a stubborn door into its frame, very matter-of-factly, and exactly hard enough to snap Caduceus’ head to the left and put white starbursts in his vision, make the world ricochet around in his skull. The pain glows across his jaw and briefly dominates every sense. Drek readjusts his grip on Caduceus’ collar and Merrin just kind of watches, a bored neutral expression suggesting this is very routine.

“You’re not listening to me,” Drek says. “I won’t ask again. Where are the Mardoons buried?”

Caduceus tastes blood.

“Listen, friends, I know you have money you’re trying to make, I understand that. But if you don’t close the warding loop, there are things waiting to—”

Drek lets go of his collar with his left hand, he grabs Caduceus’ broken leg, directly above the knee where the fracture splits bone. The sudden 100-proof bolt of pain hits his brain and the world dims out on his instinctive scream. He thrashes once, before his vision goes and everything goes– He comes back around seconds later. He’s lying, gasping, curled up in the tangle of wildflowers and grass. His forehead is scraped where his head hit the ground. The dirt smells like slow decay, like torn greenery and sweet flora. He can’t think straight. It hurts so much he can’t –

“Stop damaging the merchandise,” says Merrin, moving to kneel beside Caduceus. “Hey. You with us?” When he gets a low, gritted moan in response he sighs. ���Okay. C’mon.” He grabs his arm, pulls him off to the side and rolling him onto his back, hands bound behind him, ignoring the firbolg’s additional agonized noises. “You’re okay. Just relax. We’ll be done here in a bit.”

“Please listen to me,” Caduceus rasps. “These grounds have stood for centuries. I’m the last one holding back the woods. If I leave, nothing will hold back the forest. It wants to get inside this place.”

“Hey, stop talking.”  

“You don’t understand. The fact you even broke the gate is dangerous to— What are you doing?”

Merrin is very calmly tugging at the cloth-knot belt at the waist of Caduceus’ clothes. He seems to be struggling a little with the loose pleats of fabric, idly feeling around as if for pockets but also definitely not patting him down for missed spell components or weaponry. Caduceus jerks back, yanking his good leg up and pushing away from the grinning graverobber. Merrin’s smile never cracks. Not once. Not even as he grabs a fistful of cloth at Caduceus’ hip and yanks him back across the ground, pulls him between the half-orc’s boots then kneels, straddling the bound firbolg and gathering his head into his hands.

Caduceus bucks his head back instinctively, but Merrin just digs his fingers in knotting a fistful of fur and the longer hair at the nape of his neck, yanking his head back so far, the arch of his throat is bared. Caduceus has to swallow a reactive, animal noise, his wrists twisting as he briefly strains to tear through the ropes, shoulders shaking with the effort until he has to fall back, breathing fast and shallow. He grits his teeth, turning his head aside as Merrin leans down and speaks directly into Caduceus’ flipped-back ear.

“Are you paying attention?”

Caduceus, given no choice, nods stiffly.

“Good.”

Caduceus feels fingers at the hollow of his throat, then sliding south, hooking into the over-lapping lapels of his robes, pulling and parting them over his chest.

“Where are the Mardoons?”

“Southwest end of the grounds. Under the red flowers.”

Drek hearing this, huffs and grabs a shovel, marching off towards the southwestern part of the graveyard. Merrin doesn’t move though, just continues to kneel there on top of Caduceus, studying his face. Caduceus holds his gaze, maintain the outward illusion of calm while his heart hammers frantically against his breastbone. Merrin’s gaze is flicking idly across his features, reading them like you read a book and Caduceus has to strangle the dread taking root in his lungs because he can read features too and what Merrin wants to do is written behind his eyes in cold grey.

“You know how rare it is to get hold of a firbolg?”

“We’re usually hard to find,” Caduceus agrees, discretely continuing to work his wrists in their bonds behind his back.

“The Shepards manage it sometimes, but they’re the only ones.” Merrin’s eyes trail downward, lazily, to Caduceus’ throat, across the slightly animalistic structures of his nose and mouth. “I think even they would pay something interesting for you. You’re like nothing I’ve seen.” He reaches up, idly brushing pink hair back from the bloody scrape on his forehead but Caduceus doesn’t flinch or react. “Why did your family leave here alone? They must have known someone would eventually try their luck.”

Caduceus glances across the yard toward the front gate. He can see where they left it wide, the scorched earth and iron hung open like a wound in the green. The sun setting, the twilight still bright enough that Caduceus can see the grounds clearly, but soon that won’t be true and he can hear now how silent the forest is all around the Blooming Grove. Like all the wildlife has fled and through the gates, the dark, twisted forms of the Savalier trees seem to shift in the lengthening shadows.

“They left because the forest is dangerous,” he murmurs, staring continuously at the darkness through the gate. “Because the curse in the Savalierwood is trying to kill our home.” The shadows beyond the gate shimmer, the longer grasses near the edge of the burn field flattening slightly and Caduceus swallows hard, his pulse accelerating. “Because there are things out there that want to swallow this pla—”

Merrin grabs his chin and yanks his face back up, forcing him to meet his assailant’s gaze.

“Not your problem anymore, priest.” The man keeps hold of Caduceus’ jaw, pulls the front of his tunic farther open. He smiles this time when Caduceus flinches instinctively. “See? You have different concerns now.”

He can hear, faintly, the whisper of something moving through the yard, something his hearing is appearing sensitive enough to perceive, but Merrin does not notice. But then again, Merrin is wholly focused now on the task of scaring his would-be victim. He uses both hands now to pull the hem of Caduceus’ robes off his shoulders, down his biceps, exposing the amulet around his neck and laid against his heart. Caduceus’ entire body goes rigid, fear and revulsion tensing every sinew in his long frame, but even as fear build in him like pressure, he’s still hearing that slow myriad whisper of strange footfalls. Too many footfalls. More than a biped. More than a quadruped. He can’t –

Merrin jams fist against Caduceus’ broken leg, twists a startled, agonized scream out of him before grabbing a fistful of his hair, wrenching his head around.

“Pay attention, you stupid animal!”

“If you are what I think you are,” Caduceus rasps, ignoring the man on top of him, “then you survive on what lives from this Grove.”

“What the fuck are you talking to?”

“Help me or this place dies.”

Pain again, fingers digging into the broken section of his legs and Caduceus’ spine arches up, a scream catching desperately in the back of his throat before he swallows that sound as useless and instead cries out, “Stop them! Please!”

“No one is gonna help you.” Merrin seizes him by the throat, throttling his windpipe shut. “Beg if you want, but I’m not gonna–”

And that’s when Merrin’s skull crunches in like an eggshell. His face implodes. Bursts blood, bone crunching as gore splatters hot across Caduceus’ face and throat. The cleric flinches, eyes shutting as the invisible thing ripping Merrin’s head off finishes its terrible work and tears the fresh kill off of Caduceus, yanking it into the long grass nearby where he can hear jaws gnawing furiously, grinding bone on bone and wet. Then the sounds stop. The grass is red now all around. Blood splattered against a nearby headstone.

Caduceus rolls carefully onto his flank, scanning the dark yard around him.

“Hello?” he whispers.

Silence.

“You’re within your rights to kill me too, but it won’t benefit you long term.”

He feels something brush his shoulder. Then warm breath against his neck.

He looks over his shoulder and as he does, watches the air beside him shimmer, then darken, then solidify into a hulking feline shape. Two gleaming fey-light eyes refract light from strange retinas as a six-legged, full grown displacer beast materializes from its dispelled illusion field. It’s sitting almost directly beside him. The thing brushing his arm now is one of the two long, prehensile limbs growing from its shoulder blades – sinuous tendrils tipped in petal-like hoods that bristle along their interior with humming spines. The mechanism for their invisibility.

Bright, intelligent eyes scan curiously over Caduceus. Its tail lashes like a stimulated house cat’s.

Caduceus doesn’t flinch away, just meets its bright stare with one of his own.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

The beast shifts forward, lazily, prowling on heavy paws until its long body is half-circled around Caduceus. He suspects the beast is female. Her displacer limbs keep brushing his shoulders and hair. She sniffs curiously at his tunic, licking a rough tongue across his shoulder, then his neck, and cheek and she does he can hear the low, intrigued growl rumbling in her throat. Caduceus doesn’t move, doesn’t react at all. He just waits. Heart pounding. Paralyzed with dread and a desperate clutch of hope.

Then in strange, breathy Common, originating from somewhere around its skull, the beast says, “Where is your herd?”

“Gone,” Caduceus says. “It’s just me for now.”

“Do better, young guardian. I won’t help you again.”

Then the beast vanishes. Caduceus immediately rolls over, gets his knees under him and ignores the instant agony from his broken leg. He moves to the body, shouldering it to roll the mangled corpse and get at the dead man’s short sword. He glances fervently toward the southwest section of the graveyard, on the opposite side of the temple. So far, Drek doesn’t seem to have heard the sounds of his compatriot dying. Not, mind you, that the displacer beast gave him time to be noisy—

He hears screams.

Caduceus looks up. The screams continue on and off for about thirty seconds… then silence. The silence goes on and on. Caduceus saws the bonds at his wrists well enough to tear them with brute strength and again he waits, listening. The silence continues, continues… and then Caduceus watches at the far end of the grounds as a bloody, shredded carcass appears to drag itself across the lawn toward the open gate, pulled by invisible, massive jaws. Caduceus makes no move to stop this or get up.

He just presses his palms against his broken leg and gingerly heals the break, soothing away swelling and bruising until there is no sign of it ever being there. The Goliath corpse disappears through the gates and Caduceus immediately lunges to his feet, rushing across the ground to grab the open gates and slam them shut. He grabs the fallen chain from the ash near the entryway and loops the gates shut again, immediately feeling the magic in the barrier wall flare awake once more. He can see, just at the mouth of the gate, black, sickly brambles already stretching rotten fronds toward the once-open door.

Caduceus collapses then sinks with his back against the gates.

“Oooooh,” he breathes, the word dragging low from his chest.

A brief, hysterical noise tries to rise inside him.

He presses two hands against his sternum and a swell of magic slides through him and all those emotions still, calming until they are distant murmurs at the far edge of his awareness and for a while, magically numb to the post-traumatic terror, Caduceus Clay contemplates how very, very differently this day could have ended. He wonders, in a calm, neutral kind of way, if this was the very thing his sister feared when she left him his armor. He wonders how bad, how dangerous and difficult her task if she still saw fit to leave him even knowing what could happen.

He wonders if he will see his family again.

He wonders how long they’ve been gone, how much longer they will be, how much longer he can hold the gate alone.

Then later, when the effect of Calm Emotions has faded, he packs a bag and begins to wait.

#critical role #the mighty nein #caduceus clay #cr2 #critrole #long post #deuce deals with slaver assholes #the fan fic #posting in the middle of the night #because its long #and annoying

[readbythestarlight]

c2e61

"Darker than the last episode of Game of Thrones" lol

Sam throwing some serious shade omg

Matt: "so... so what about D&D Beyond?"

Sam: oh right!!

Jester is scrying nice nice

Mmmm I don’t like worm gods of creepy tunnels

I do however like the way Matt designs and creates gods

I’m sure other people have thought of this but how funny would it be if The Traveler was just her imaginary friend who like... became real

F: "does he ever ask you to hurt anyone?"

B, C @ Fjord: "does YOUR god ask you to do that?!"

F: "nyoooooope"

Mmmm Yasha revealing that sad backstory to the whole group

"They captured her and I ran away"

The M9: comparing memory gaps

Cad: "I don’t remember anything either but that’s normal."

You don’t THINK she’s alive anymore

you don’t THINK?!

YASHA

SHE COULD STILL BE ALIVE?!

FffffffffFfFfFf

N: "Maybe there’s a yellow parchment or something we can flip through."

WHAT IF ITS WHATSHISNAME. The other guy Caleb knew.

Oh damn Jester that’s clever!

Okay so not that guy Caleb knew

I totally forgot they found a tally stone

The horse had a Zedashy accent xD

Catch me appreciating Caduceus along with Sorna the giant

Matt’s dying over their scheming

Nott trying to get Fjord and Jester into a romantic situation

The one thing Matt doesn’t have prepared xD

I can’t breathe omg

Marisha’s just watching Matt the whole time

Guys take pity on the poor man xD

Yeza is safe thank goodness

Gonna talk to the dead goblin okay okay

Caleb murdered this poor gross little goblin by mistake

Oh Jester, honey, you don’t even know that he IS your dad, babe

"You’re being ridiculous, I’m not your father. But... I’m glad you’re alright, wherever you are. Come back sometime, I’ve got more work."

And now she’s messaging her mom baby giiiirl

...Caleb

He’s afraid Nott’s gonna leave isn’t he?

Oh god Fjord dream time

Leave my son ALONE U’kotoa

"Punish"

NOPE

SOMEBODY SAVE MY BOY

metal what

Oh no

The falchion what

Oh no did he de-magic the falchion

U’kotoa you son of a bitch

OH NO HE TOOK FJORD’S MAGIC AWAY

Oh no oh Fjord oh baby

SOMEBODY HELP HIM AND HUG HIM

god do you think he’s gonna worry about being useless to the group now

What does this even mean

What is a warlock without his magic??

The voice?? The voice????

Matt how could you hurt him like this

I’m adopting Fjord I’m his new patron now

I can’t decide if he’ll tell them or if he’ll try to not have to tell them until a fight happens

I agree Cad was the MVP and I too want him to have the staff

I’m betting Fjord doesn’t tell them about losing his powers until they’re actually getting ready to face a new fight

Caleb asking Yasha to do his shopping xD

Professor Whacko is funny

TAKE THE BLADE I bet it fit’s Cad’s!!!

Listen plz take the blade guys I’m begging you

Taliesin’s like "I really want the sword but I’m not gonna look at you because I’m not there"

Y’all gotta stop pushing. I know you want the books but y’all gotta stop.

Fjord’s being on edge and Caduceus is suspicious that something is up

Ohhhhh it’s an apothecary. Maybe using another alchemist to make that same potion Yeza made?

Liam and Travis always have the best reactions to Matt’s crazy voices

Why do they need sunscreen in a city where the sun has been blocked out

Oh god that hair growing potion is gonna be used for some crazy pranks

How did Fjord end up being the one everyone flirts with

I’m kidding it’s the voice

"I have no powers that’s a natural 1" oh baby

Okay so he’s got at least some of his magic back? Like this was just a threat of what could be to come?

Also I love his cool half orc guy

Yasha’s a good friend. A good bro.

Fjord’s desperately looking for a new god right now

Caleb’s getting a new outfiiiiiiit

Actually idk I’ve got a slight uneasy feeling about his very specific order of new clothes

Cad giving Fjord a look

Heyyyyyyyy Shadowhand Essik ;)

So U’kotoa is just fucking with him and showing him how much power he has over him. Bad.

So the Dynasty is giving them a house?? I don’t know how I feel

Lol Caleb you’re getting played baby. Which I know you know.

Jester honey you can’t give everyone a Tusktooth tattoo

11 AC I’m crying sad tears

They finally got their own mansion guys

Still don’t trust it I don’t think

Jester is really just going in for that hug huh? An inspiration to us all.

They’ve got a house I can’t believe it.

BED ROOMS BED ROOMS BED ROOMS

Caleb takes a tower room I bet

We didn’t get to the sword but that’s okay hopefully we’ll get to it next week

I wanna hear all about how they do up their rooms

#im a couple of weeks behind again sorry #but at least i learned how to do a cut on mobile! #so i wont fall behind anymore #emi watches critical role #critical role

[asteraegis]

reposting shit

so this is that 5010 word (i know) edawale smut i posted when i first made this blog. im mainly reposting it bc im too lazy to go through my own blog to find it again, just less typos hopefully (im sorta dyslexic [i move words around in sentences when reading, sometimes do the letter bs] so i have no idea tbh) 

tags if you have the time to read this novel length thing: mlm, some fisting, some choking, set in their time period, some breathplay, use of alcohol?, a lot of shitty jokes, 69ing, rimjob haha, ade is kinda sadistic sometimes too lol, blowjob, some nipple play, deep throating, self facial, rawing sorry ed, very light bondage, i guess humiliation?, probably some other shit i dunno i really beat my brain’s dick for my otp mate

below cut as always

The azure ocean rocked the whale boat as Edward scanned the bloodied surface for his prey. His fingers wrapped around the harpoon tight, prepared to launch the spear. Sweat and sea water dripped from his brow and down the bridge of his nose, focused, listening.

An eruption about twenty meters away revealed an orca. Edward cocked his head to look at the dolphin. “There you are.”

He hurled the harpoon at the animal, impaling it through its broad mid-section. The orca writhed about a bit before eventually giving in and relaxing into death. Edward grinned, he and two of his crewmates hauling the load back to the Jackdaw where the rest of the crew pulled the catch aboard the deck and began preparing it. As for the captain, he climbed back onto his ship and entered his quarters.

In the dimly lit room, his quartermaster, Adewale, stood over a map of the Caribbean Sea. He turned when he heard the door shut, nodding at Edward as he approached.

“Good day, cap’n,” the quartermaster said, looking back at the map. “How was the hunt?”

“Fine, crew’s cutting up the damned beast now,” Edward leaned against the desk, reaching for a cotton rag to dry himself with before replacing his captain’s gear. “How goes the fleet?”

Adewale huffed. “Well, you are better than I thought you would be at this.”

The captain laughed. “You have little faith of me, don’t you, mate? I’m hurt,” He rubbed the rag about his blonde hair then draped it over his shoulders and leaned back in his velvet armchair, tugging on his boots. “Really, Ade, how am I doing?”

“You should have a few frigates coming in from the Mediterranean in a week or so. Judging by where you sent them, they will have a considerable haul aboard them,” Adewale rolled up the map. “Good work, cap’n.”

Edward pulled on his coat and stood. “Thanks, mate. Set a course for Inagua, then. We can sell that whale then collect the loot from the frigs. Give the crew a well-deserved rest while we’re at it.”

“Aye. I will let them know,” The two men left the cabin and came to the wheel. “Full sail, we are heading to Grand Inagua!”

 Upon arriving at the hideout’s dock, the Jackdaw’s crew dumped the orca at the market, splitting up the gained coin amongst each other afore rejoicing at the tavern. The pirates shared a few bottles, a few songs, and a few dances. A shining sun began to paint the sky with pinks and lilacs and the brothel’s lanterns lit to counter the encroaching darkness. The whores filtering out the doors of the cathouse seemed to allure the sailors like a siren’s song and shortly the docks, the boardwalk, and the roads were crowded with debauchery ranging from teenager-like flirting to couples disappearing into shrubs for some time alone.

Edward’s sharp blue eyes gazed upon the cove from the mansion’s courtyard, refreshing himself with a pint of rum. Girlish giggling blended into the silent courtyard’s air, the corsair turning his head to get a look at the prostitutes approaching him. Two well-endowed women sashayed toward the captain, fiendish smirks on their painted faces. The blonde cad spun on his heels, eager to ‘join in the festivities’ like his men on the shore.

“Evening, ladies. Beautiful night, ain’t it?” he leered, taking a couple short steps toward the women.

“It really is quite lovely, captain Kenway,” one of the women sighed, moving her shoulders in such a way that a sleeve slipped, lighting up the Welshman’s eyes.

“As brilliant as the sky is, there is a bit of a chill in the air. Shall we take this inside?” His eyes glinted with sinful delight, matching that of the courtesans’ as they followed him up the steps to his estate.

As the aroused trio reached the doorway, they were halted by a pompous-faced Adewale. “What do we have here, cap’n?”

Edward flicked his eyes at his quartermaster then to the dames. “Well we—"

“You are working on two doses of scurvy? Edward, I just gained respect for you, do not give me a reason to lose it all,” Adewale snarled, setting his shoulders back and glowering at the three.

“I didn’t—”

“I need to have a private conversation with my captain about supplies on the ship and the fleet’s future endeavors,” he said, grabbing Edward’s arm, pulling him away from the women.

“But they—”

Adewale cut off Edward again. “And if you two need attention so badly, the jagabats down the hill are looking for your services, so Kenway is not necessary for what you two want. Go.”

The women pouted and rolled their eyes but subsequently obeyed the looming man and hurried down the path while Edward gawked at his friend and the girls, completely flabbergasted.

“What the hell was that for?” Edward grumbled after Adewale pushed him inside, shutting the door behind them.

“I grow tired of your childishness, Edward. Do you not know how to behave yourself?” Adewale said, dropping Edward’s arm.

“I can behave myself, mate, now would you just—” Edward went to open the door but Adewale’s arm blocked him. “—dammit, Ade! What’s so bloody important that it must be done now?”

Keeping his left arm on the door, Adewale clutched Edward’s necklace and dragged him close enough that they could feel each other’s hot breath on their skin. “Listen, you slut. You are a captain, start acting like one,” He released Edward, who stumbled to his original position. “I need you to be a better example for the crew.”

Edward sighed, defeated, knowing his ménage a trois was cancelled. “What do you need me for?”

The quartermaster eyed his captain, pleased that he finally gave in. “I need to discuss the fleet with you,” The men walked to Edward’s office in silence and Adewale laid assorted papers across the desk. Edward sat on the tabletop and took one of the documents in his hand. “I got word that two of your brigantines sailed recklessly to Bristol and were challenged by the royal navy. They were given no quarter and the lot were slaughtered.”

Edward swallowed. “I see.”

“I understand that Great Britain does contain great bounty, but the price of lives holds far more worth than any currency. Until the waters cool there, I ask you,” he leaned into the other man, catching his eyes in his own, “not to send any more of the men northbound.”

“Aye, I won’t, mate.”

“The Bahjohns have sent a few galleons to purge pirates in the area between Nassau and Havana, as told by these papers,” Adewale noted.

“Shite, that’s where Thatch and Kidd sail,” Edward shook his head and rested his chin in his hand. “Jaysus, we need to—”

“I have already sent word to Captain Thatch and Master Kidd, they will be fine,” Adewale rested his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Just, if you are unsure of a location, do not be afraid to call upon me for a second opinion.”

Edward nodded, watching Adewale’s hand slide off his shoulder. They looked away from each other and glanced about the room at Kenway’s treasures and paintings. The sun had set and moonlight trickled into the shadowy room. Candles spread about the space provided just enough visibility for the men’s faces to glow in fiery yellow light alongside the loot.

Adewale moved away from the desk. “It is getting late. I will leave you for the night—”

“Wait, Ade,” Edward grabbed his wrist and dropped to his feet off the table. “Stay a while. Those whores you scared off won’t be coming back. I’m not tired enough to sleep and, seeing as you cancelled my original plans, how ‘bout me and you share a bottle, aye?”

Adewale smiled. “Cap’n—”

Edward advanced toward him, creeping his hand from Ade’s wrist, up his arm, and to his shoulder. “Please, I insist.”

Chuckling, Adewale shook his head and rustled Edward’s flaxen hair. “You do not give up, do you?”

He sneered. “Glad you’re seeing it my way, mate. C’mon, there’s bottles on the bedroom table.”

The pirates strode to the next room, Edward taking it upon himself to uncork the first flagon. The men chatted, joked, bantered, and drank. They spoke about the years spent afore meeting each other and the adventures they’ve had plundering together. Eventually, the bottle ran out, Adewale tilting his head all the way back to check but to no avail. He frowned, rolling the flagon to the corner of the room with a few of the other ones.

“Damn. I’ll get another one, Ade,” Edward grumbled, standing up and walking over to get another drink.

At the table, he removed his overcoat, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Adewale took in Edward’s body, glancing up and down his shape, his loose leather vest letting his tattoos peek out from his clothes. As Adewale’s liquor-guided-gaze cascaded down Edward’s back, his curiosity got the best of him. Edward’s hips were sculpted like a woman’s giving him a near hourglass figure and a rear to match thanks to his thick, muscular thighs. Adewale watched his hips shift back and forth as Edward picked through half empty bottles, unaware that his partner could see him peeping in the reflection of the rum bottles’ glass. Kenway smirked, slowly turning with a bottle in hand.

“Enjoying the view, mate?” Edward teased.

Adewale blushed and rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “I—”

He let out a nasty laugh, swaggering back toward his friend. “Really, Ade, I’m chuffed,” Edward’s hand stroked Adewale’s clavicle to his lavaliere that he held between his fingers for a brief moment before laying his hand on the white silk of Ade’s undershirt, “and I’m eager to unleash that desire you’ve been hiding so well, mate.”

Adewale locked eyes with Edward’s, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a swig of the alcohol. A devilish glow overtook his eyes matching Edward’s sly grin. He jerked Edward’s face down to his own, pushing his lips to his captain’s, forcing the drink into his mouth, which Edward happily swallowed. Adewale began unclasping Edward’s vest and unraveling his sash, Kenway doing the same all the while taking a seat on the quartermaster’s lap.

Shirts astray, Adewale ran his fingers across Edward’s chest’s tattoos and Edward rubbed through the fabric of Ade’s pin striped pants. Adewale leaned back into the satin sheets, yanking Edward down on top of him. His calloused hands drifted down the captain’s side, clutching the white pants and peeling them off. Unsurprisingly, Edward was lacking trousers of any kind under the clothing.

“Hm, that would explain your… seamlessness,” Adewale joshed, placing both palms on the sailor’s bare ass, gripping the sun kissed flesh in his dark fingers.

“I hate being restricted,” Edward said with a cheeky grin. He tucked his hand into Adewale’s pants, squeezing his cock to push a moan through his teeth, “something you seem to be.”

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

“You’re holding back, Ade. I don’t want your gentle side, I know your strength, mate. If I wanted lightness, I’d’ve ushered you away and done myself on the chaise.”

Adewale rolled his eyes then flashed a filthy grin. “As you wish.”

In a second, Adewale shoved Edward’s head down to his groin, unclasping his pants and drawers. His umber cock billowed out of the underwear, like an escapee fresh out of a gibbet. Edward couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth betray his cool attitude, turning upwards in a purse-proud manner. Finally, he thought.

The quartermaster took a fistful of Edward’s sandy hair and yanked him forward, his cheek rubbing his cock with the blonde scruff. Edward moved his right hand up to caress Adewale’s shaft, a gross smirk lining his face.

“Your definition of rough is to hold my face near your crotch?” he taunted, his fingers sliding up and down the veiny mast. “Mate, I never took you to be a milksop but—”

“Move your fingers,” Adewale commanded.

“What? You don’t even want me to touch y—”

The second Edward’s hand moved Ade wrenched Edward’s mouth down his girth and to the base of his dick. The motion was so swift it caught the usually cunning and bombastic sailor off guard. Edward almost choked with the head deep in the back of his throat, releasing a yelp-like moan from between his lips and Adewale’s skin.

Adewale shot a toothy grin at Edward when he peered upwards like some guilty dog. “Ah, peace and quiet.”

Edward moaned in annoyance at Ade’s words, making him cackle and continue mocking his captain as he held Edward’s head to pull his lips back and forth across his foreskin.

“Look at you, not so proud anymore,” he crowed. “To think, someone as stubborn and headstrong as you just needed something in your mouth to quit your griping,” Adewale smacked Edward’s ass, making him let out a muffled grunt. “Arch your back.”

Not exactly happy about Adewale’s new, sadistic attitude—even though he did ask for it—but still curious to what his friend was capable of, Edward followed his demand. He stretched his back, pushing his chest into the mattress and his hips into the air. Adewale took Edward’s hands behind him, holding them against Edward’s spine with one palm and tying them using his bandana with the other. Ade then spat into his left hand and began working the pirate’s perked ass, sliding his moist middle and ring finger into Edward. He half-purred upon the finger’s entrance, pushing back against Adewale’s knuckles and trying to take his mouth off Ade’s shaft to catch his breath.

Adewale grinned smugly, keeping Edward breathless by controlling him like a puppet, holding the back of his head by his hair, slowly stroking his head back and forth across his cock. He pressed his fingers in deeper, Edward’s bound hands itching to rub himself empty.

“Captain, does this really tickle your fancy that much? I have not even touched your cock, y’know, and yet,” he stuffed his other two fingers inside Edward, making him groan frustratedly and dig his nails into his palms, “you are hard as rock and squeezing my fingers.”

Edward felt his cheeks turn hot, half opening his eyes and watching Adewale. He writhed his trussed wrists and whimpered, grinding his ass against Adewale’s fist, wanting to take it deeper and not caring about admitting it. The quartermaster pulled his dick out of Edward’s mouth, Edward panting lightly with drool dripping down his chin. Adewale took his fingers out of his friend then shoved Edward down onto the puffy sheets of the bed.

On his back with his arms still locked behind him, Edward bit his lip to stifle a yelp from the strain on his shoulders and elbows. Not completely heartless, Ade moved Edward’s hands to above his head so he could lay more comfortably, spread eagle in front of his best mate. Adewale caressed Edward’s tip expertly between his left thumb and fingers, leaning in to whisper in his ear:

“Are you still certain you wish to do this, Kenway? It is not the booze, right?” he asked, his warm breath tickling Edward’s ears.

Edward smiled. “How gentlemanly of you, Ade!” He cocked his head to stare into Adewale’s eyes. “Fuck me.”

Adewale smiled warmly before kissing him, still keeping his fingers steadily caressing his friend. Impatient as he is, Edward bit Ade’s lip, causing his mouth to open. Edward slipped his tongue into Adewale’s mouth, rubbing his knee against Ade’s groin. He pulled at the cloth binding his wrists, trying to loosen the grip so he could properly embrace his quartermaster, but, alas, he wasn’t getting off that easily.

Adewale shifted away from Edward to kiss his neck, slowly trailing down his body to kiss his clavicle, his chest, his naval, and finally—

“Wait, are you actually going to blow me?!” Edward gasped, writhing about, trying his best to sit up while Ade’s unused hand held him down.

He chuckled slyly, shaking his head. “I have other plans, cap’n.”

He lifted Edward’s legs over his head, pushing him into a contorted arch shape, Ade beginning to jerk himself off. He kneeled behind Edward, his dick brushing against Kenway’s ass. Edward looked nervously at Adewale, noticing that he was now in the position to be staring down the barrel of his own cock. Adewale grabbed Edward’s ass, grinding himself against his rump, switching his hand to jerk off Edward.

Seeing that he was increasingly becoming more aroused, blood rushing both to his pelvis and his head from being half upside down, Edward braced himself, knowing it was going to be messy.

Edward gulped, struggling to look Adewale in the eye. “Ah—Ade, I’m gonna come.”

His hips bucked and his toes curled, shutting his eyes and biting his lip as he came, his cum dripping down his chest and sticking to his face in warm, white strings.

Chagrined, he hesitated to look at Adewale. Cumming on yourself isn’t exactly a way to avoid humiliation, especially when your partner’s barely done anything yet. Nevertheless, he opened his eyes, surprised to see Adewale scowling at him.

“Truly, cap’n, I thought you would have more endurance than this,” he groused, shaking Edward’s legs off of him. Ade grabbed his throat to hold him, Edward’s rear resting over his lap, his back arching away from the mattress. Adewale leaned in, swiping his fingers over Edward’s cum then putting them in Kenway’s mouth. “It’s pathetic, really, sir.”

The captain spit Adewale’s fingers out of his mouth and choked out, “Let’s see how you do, mate.”

“Gladly.”

Adewale stuffed his cock into Edward forcefully, making him moan loudly and send shivers through his nerves. Ade pushed his tip deep inside him, still keeping his grip strong on Edward’s neck as he thrusted almost completely out of Edward before slamming back in. Adewale moved his hands onto Edward’s shoulders, pressing him into the bed while his legs wrapped around Ade’s back. The constant ruthless motion started pissing Edward off. How the hell had he not come yet? It’s like Adewale was drugged, he wasn’t slowing down anytime soon, so the captain decided to finally set a pace.

“Fucking cunt,” Edward grumbled through gritted teeth, flexing himself to squeeze Adewale, wriggling his hands out of the bandana and pulling Adewale down against him.

Edward clawed his brawny shoulder blades, kissing Adewale and holding him close. A groan rolled out of Ade’s throat as he came in Edward. When their lips parted, the captain was beaming.

“Ha!” he said, flashing an arrogant smile.

“This ain’t a competition, Edward,” Adewale huffed, rolling his eyes. “Now flip over, captain.”

Edward laughed but otherwise obeyed, resting on his hands and knees, arching his back to emphasize his shape. “What trick do ya got now, mate? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been in this position.”

“Like I need to hear about your days as a punk right now, Kenway.”

“Aw, you afraid I’ve had it better? Mate, are you feeling inferior?”

“Shut the hell up, jagabat.”

“Make me.”

Adewale pushed Edward’s face into the pillows, sliding his cock into him again. He fed Edward’s ass long, deep strokes, keeping him short of breath smothered in the sheets. Being a diver, it took a lot to get Kenway squirming, but with the combined lack of air and thrusting he was soon writhing and trying to persuade Adewale to loosen up his death grip by grinding his ass against him. He started seeing stars, hitting the bed with his fists and trying to break free of his grip. When Edward’s struggling started dying out, Adewale finally released his grip, the blonde flipping his head to gasp for air, coughing, his ribcage heaving to take in as much as possible. He flinched when Ade placed his hands on his neck, purring, however, when Adewale began rubbing his shoulders soothingly, slowing his pace while he leaned down to kiss Edward’s neck. Edward clutched the sheets tightly, breathing heavily, Adewale touching his chest to his back. He bit his captain’s shoulder, making him moan and curl his fingers, reaching around to rub Adewale’s neck.

Adewale made is way to Edward’s erection, stroking him tentatively, still kissing him. Edward bit his lip, his breath at last caught, giggling like a school girl when his corner gaze met Ade’s.

“What is so funny, Edward?” Adewale asked, stopping briefly.

“I… I can’t believe how good you are at this, Ade,” he grinned, “Really, is there anything you’re bad at, mate?”

“Probably,” he said, going back to work on Edward.

“Mm… Great, you’re humble, too,” Edward said, his cock trembling like his fingertips.

Adewale stopped his smooching to nip at Edward’s skin again. Edward felt himself flush red, his heart beat quickening as he came once more, this time into his friend’s hand. He compressed Ade as he came, making Adewale embrace Edward as he came. Edward took the hand he came into and sucked on the fingers as he flipped onto his back when Adewale pulled out.

“God, you are nasty, Edward,” Adewale grimaced, taking his fingers out of Kenway’s mouth.

“Wha—? You made me do the same thing earlier, mate!” Edward pulled Adewale back on top of him. “What the hell’s the difference?”

“You did it twice, breddah, that is the difference,” he replied.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

The two kissed, Ade clutching Edward as he rolled over, making him lay on top of him. He rubbed Edward’s lower back after the kiss, Edward nuzzling his head under Ade’s chin, listening to him breathe softly. His heart beat lulled the captain to sleep, his gentle hand soothing Edward’s sore back. Adewale settled his back into the mattress, softening his breathing as he too closed his eyes and drifted off.

Daylight trickled through the tall dusty windows, creating bright shapes on the men’s sleeping bodies. The glow shone over their eyes as tropical birds chirped outside, stirring Adewale from his sleep. He groaned, rubbing his eyes in his palms and looked down at the dreaming Edward. He smiled at the sight of the calm captain, brushing his locks from his face. Edward shifted slightly on Ade’s chest before opening his eyes, yawning, then grinning at him.

Edward put his head on his hands and sighed. “G’mornin’, Ade.”

“How are you feeling, Edward?” he asked.

“Heh, a little sore, but that’s nothing new,” Edward sat up and stretched his arms, sitting on Ade’s lap, mind you they were both still nude. “Honestly, mate, I feel I could go again.”

Adewale raised a brow as Edward rocked back over his groin. “Are… are you trying to set the mood again, cap’n?”

Edward simply smirked and shrugged, winking at him with his devious, icy eyes. “How ‘bout it?”

“It’s dawn, cap’n, the crew will be coming up here soon enough—”

“With the hangovers they gave themselves last night? We’ll be lucky if they show up before noon,” Edward let his hands explore Ade’s scarred torso before climbing to his neck, “and ‘sides, I told them last night to unload the frigates as soon as they arrive. We’ve time aplenty.”

“No, we do not, Edward,” Adewale removed Edward’s hands from his shoulders, holding him by the wrists. “They will see us if we start again.”

“Good for them.”

“Edward.”

“What if we closed the curtains, hm? And closed the door? And, if us not having time is what is bothering you, maybe we could switch positions, eh? We already learned, after all, that you last far longer than I do, mate,” Edward let Adewale hold his wrists while he desperately tried reasoning with him. “Or, I could ride you, or I could just suck you off again.”

The quartermaster shook his head. “Really, Edward? Are you in heat?”

Edward laughed. “No, I just like satisfaction and I know, mate, that we won’t get an opportunity like this once we’re on deck.”

“You have the captain’s quarters, Edward, we could do it in there.”

“On a dusty old desk? With creaky doors to keep back any noise? Ade, I’d rather a shark bite my cock off,” he grumbled.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Aye.”

Adewale tossed the idea around in his head of what Edward had said. “Fine, close the curtains. And the door. I do not want to do much so if you are riding me make it quick.”

Edward’s eyes lit up. “Oh, believe me, after yesterday I will be fast.”

“Charming.”

The captain immediately went to work, shutting the door and curtains, then returning to the bed to give Ade a hand job while kissing his clavicle. Edward let his free hand glide over Adewale’s bare chest, eventually stopping to pinch his nipples, making the larger man grunt. He blew in Edward’s ear, making him flinch, caressing the small of Edward’s back when Kenway moved down to suck Ade’s nipple. Adewale winced when Edward bit him but soon the pain faded to pleasure, his blood feeling like it was swirling in his body.

Ade gazed down at Edward, whose back arched, putting his rump on full display. He watched his body move in a lustful motion, eager to please, making gentle noises that almost came across as delight. Edward pulled back, going to blow Adewale instead of playing with his chest, but Adewale stopped him.

“Rot, what is it now, mate?” Edward growled, glaring up at him.

“I want you on top of me,” he replied.

This took Edward off guard. “You what?”

“I want you above me. I want us both to experience this, together.”

Stunned but nevertheless overjoyed, Edward clambered over Adewale, swinging his left leg to the other side of Ade’s neck. Kenway let his head hang down to look at his friend under him. He grinned, his blonde hair framing his face.

“How’s this, mate?” he asked.

“Almost,” Adewale yanked Edward’s pelvis down so his round ass was truly in full view, “perfect.”

Edward blinked in disbelief as the quartermaster put his tongue to his pink ring, teasing the skin between it and Edward’s scrotum with his left thumb, the right thumb stroking the soft ring’s skin. Kenway rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “And you said I was nasty.”

Regardless, Edward still put his lips to Adewale’s tip, pressing his tongue around the head’s rim. He slid his mouth down the shaft, the engorged cock reaching deep into the back of his throat. Edward groaned past the mouthful, feeling Ade twitching in his jaws, his own member getting excited from his lower half being toyed with. As for Adewale, he, too, was becoming increasingly turned on, holding Edward’s lower back with his forearm while still eating out his captain. He raised his hips slightly as to not choke Edward but still force him to take it further.

The two men began breathing heavier, moaning passionately as they came near coming. Edward made sure his mouth was around Adewale’s cock as to control the mess. Ade gripped Edward’s thighs as he came, his captain swallowing the milky liquid as it sprayed itself throughout his mouth. Edward pulled his mouth away from Adewale’s dick, making a victorious sucking noise that rattled the quartermaster’s ears. It irritated him, the sound more obnoxious from this angle. He moved his face away from licking him, driving his fingers into his wet ass to stroke Edward’s prostate. Edward moaned loudly, his elbows giving way, his hips bucking and his cock shooting white ropes onto Adewale’s chest to contrast his dark skin.

Adewale shoved Edward off of him to the side. “Are you satisfied now, cap’n?”

“Not quite, mate, I think the least I can do for you is clean up your chest,” Edward smiled.

He leaned over Ade, licking his chest free of the splatter. When he was done, Adewale shook his head. “Well, I have learned what your favorite ‘sauce’ is.”

“What? It came out of my body, mate.”

Edward sat on the edge of the bed, Adewale smacking his back after his last remark. Ade joined him, kissing him on the cheek then resting his head against Edward’s.

“I love ya, Ade,” Edward sighed with his eyes half shut.

“Feeling is mutual, cap’n,” Adewale said softly. The two stayed leaning against each other for a good while afore standing up. “Come on, I think we should get dressed now.”

“Aye, agreed.”

After they pulled on their pants and boots, footsteps were heard thumping across the hardwood floor. There was a single knock before two inferior crew members swung open the bedroom door.

“Capt—ah! You’re both here! Why?” one of the men asked with a furrowed brow, looking the shirtless men up and down.

Edward and Adewale made brief, nervous eye contact then Edward stated, “Well, last night Ade showed me how a blunderbuss worked and it was too late for him to head to the guest house so we slept in the same bed.”

“You… both laid in… the same bed?” one questioned.

Adewale huffed. “What, you think this bed is unreasonable for two men to sleep in?”

“The bed’s huge, lads,” Edward pointed out, ignoring the fact that last night they slept on each other.

“Ah, uh! Sorry, sirs!” the flustered sailors apologized. “We just came to let ye know we unloaded the frigates and are waitin’ for your word for what to do with the cargo.”

“Hmm, shall we, mate?” Edward grinned, looking to Ade.

Adewale nodded, pulling on his shirt and vest. “Aye. Let us go.”

The two crewmen led their superiors out of the estate. Just out of earshot, Adewale slapped Kenway’s ass hard. The captain turned, smirking, but shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Still enjoying the view, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ade smiled cheekily. “Still against the idea of sex in the quarters?”

Edward chuckled then winked. “We’ll see.”

#what did you think i was joking #this is 11 pages in word #edward #adewale #edawale #ac4 #assassins creed #i dont fucking care anymore bro #im reposting this so i can read it in class #i write #i talk #its 1:23am #cool numbers #if something in this seemed like a pun it was #especially the getting off that easily #im especially proud of that one lol

[thefamilythatneverages]

The Simpsons Epsiodes that I would rewatch over and over (the list will keep growing after the start of the 30th season …. plus the order will change due to this fact).

.............

Bart the General

The Crepes of Warth

Left Behind

Bart the Genius

Cape Feare

Flandder's Ladder

Hormer vs. The Eighteenth Amendent

Looking For Mr. Goodbart

Marge vs. the Montrail

The Devil Wears Nada

Jazzy and the Pussy Cats

Hormer's Phobia

I Won't Be Home For Christmas

Special Edna

Lemon of Troy

The City of New York vs. Hormer Simpson

MoneyBart

Itchy & Scartchy Land

The Food Wife

Dogtown

Behind the Laughter

Bart vs. Australia

I, (Annoyed Grunt) – Bot

The D'oh-ical Network

22 for 30

Super Franchise Me

The Great Phatsby Parts 1 & 2

Smmer of 4ft. 2

The Wreck of an Relationship

Ned 'n Edna's Bend

Holidays of Future Past

Mr. Lisa Opus

Hormer and Lisa Exchange Cross Words

Mommy Beerest

The Kids Are All Fight

Them, Roborts

Moho House

Barthood

You Only Move Twice

Frink Gets Testy

The Kids Are All Right

A Father's Watch

Flaming Moe

Reality Bites

Haw-Haw Land

Caper Chase

In The Name Of The Grandfather

Helter Shelter

A Totally Fun Thing That Bart Would Never Do Again

Please Hormer Don't Hammer 'Em

The Days of Furture Furture

The Man In The Blue Flannel Pants

Bart vs. Lisa vs. The Third Grade

Two Bad Neighbores

The Book Job

Singin' in the  Lane

Hardly Kirk-ing

The Cad and the Hat

I'm Spelling As Fast As I Can

Treehouse of Horror XX

Replaceable You

Gone Boy

Bart Gets An F

The Boy Who Knew Too Much

Treehouse of Horror V

Fears of a Clown

Chief of Hearts

Home Away From Hormer

Homr

The Wife Aquatic

Dark Knight Court

3 Scenes Plus a Tag from a Marriage

The Winter of His Content

Funeral for a Fiend

King Leer

Burns Cage

The War of Art

Fatzcarraldo

Mathele's Feat

Friends and Family

Hormer and Ned's Hail Mary Pass

The Bart of War

Tree House of Horror

Bart's Dog gets an F

Moe'N'a'Lisa

The Ned-Liest Catch

White Christmas Blues

American History X-cellent

Treehouse of Horror XXVIII

Fraudcast News

Springfield Splendor

Bart Stops To Smell the Roosevelts

Treehouse of Horror VII

The Last of the Red Hat Mama's

The Falcon and the D'ohman

The President Wore Pearls

Bart the Murderer

The Italian Bob

Wavery Hills 9-0-2-1 D'Oh

Midnight RX

Throw Grampa from the Dane

Hormer Is Where the Art Isn't

Treehouse of Horror VI

This Little Wiggy

Treehouse of Horror XXII

The Great Simpisna

Four Regrettings and a Funeral

Judge Me Tender

Lisa Gets the Blues

Bart Gets Famous

Treehouse of Horror XXIII

Hormer's Enemy

Treehouse of Horror XVIII

He Loves to Fly and  He D'oh's

Future-Drama

Bart Has Two Mommies

Hormer Goes To Prep School

Treehouse of Horrow XIX

Coming To Homerica

The Town

Whistler's Father

Treehouse of Horror XXVI

Dangers on a Train

Love Is in the N2-O2-Ar-CO2-NE-HE-CH4

Waiting For Duffman

Three Gay's In A Condo

Wedding For Disaster

The Real Housewives of Fat Tony

Homerland

KampKurstier

Lisa with an 'S'

Monty Burns 'Fleeing Circus

Grampy Can You Hear Me

Treehouse of Horror XXV

The PTA Disbands

Dad Behavior

G.I. (Annoyed Grunt)

There Will Be Buds

Children of a Lesser Clod

Nightmare After Krustmas

Moms I'd Like To Forget

Treehouse of Horror XXIV

Much Apu About Something

Lost Verizon

The Serferns

E Pluribus Wiggum

The Simpsons Roasting Over A Fire

The Old Blue Mayor She Ain't What She Used To Be

Bart-Mangled Banner

Springfield Up

Treehouse of Horror XXI

Hormer Scissorhands

All About Lisa

Halloween of Horror

Covercraft

The Bob Next Door

Havana Wild Weekend

Treehouse of Horror IV

You Kent Always Say What You Want

Today I Am A Clown

Thursdays with Abie

Treehouse of Horrow XI

The Saga of Carl

Brick Like Me

Alone Again, Natura-Diddily

Simprovised

Regarding Margie

Treehouse of Horror XIII

Yellow Subterfuge

Forgive and Forget

The Last Traction Hero

Treehouse of Horror XXVII

Kill Gil Volumes I & II

Bart the Fink

Hormer's Paternity Coot

Marge's Son Posioning

The Mook, The Chef, and the Wife Her Hormer

Don't Fear the Roofer

Ice Cream of Margie (with the Light Blue Hair)

A Tale of Two Springfield

The Spy Whom Learned Me

Treehouse of Horror XV

The Secret War of Lisa Simpson

The Yellow Badge of Cowardge

Treehouse of Horror XVII

To Couirer With Love

Pranksta Rap

Treehouse of Horror II

Pulpit Fiction

Specs and the City

Hormer's Night Out

Trust and Clarity

That 90's Show

Treehouse of Horror IV

Life on the Fast Lane

Mr. Spritz Goes To Washington

Treehouse of Horror XVI

Angry Dad, The Movie

The Bart Wants What It Wants

Krusty Gets Busted

To Cur With Love

The Father, The Son, and the Holy Guest Star

Treehouse of Horror III

Pranks and Greens

Adventures In Baby Getting

The Color Yellow

The Mansion Family

Brother From Another Series

There's No Disgrace Like Home

The Computer Wore Menace Shoes

Midnight Towboys

What Animated Women Want

Co-Depenedent's Day

Gal of Constant Sorrow

Penny Wiseguys

My Fair Laddie

Dial 'N' For Nerder

Girly Edition

Orange is the New Yellow

Lisa the Veterinarian

Treehouse of Horror VIII

Father Knows Worst

Friend With Benefit

Homer's Odyessey

The Daughter Also Rises

Stealing First Base

Thank God It's Doomsday

Opposite A-Frack

Diatribe of a Mad Housewife

All Fair In Oven War

Lisa Simpson, This Isn't Your Life

Stop! Or My Dog Will Shoot

Das Bus

Fland Canyon

Sex, Pies and Idiot Scrapers

YOLO

The Ha-Hawed Couple

Mobile Hormer

Scuse Me While I Miss The Sky

Lisa on Ice

There's Something About Marrying

The Ziff Whom Came To Dinner

Little Girl In The Big Ten

One Hurndred and One Greyhounds

Smoke On The Daughter

On A Clear Day I Can See My Sister

The Curse of the Flying Hellfish

Marge vs. Singles, Seniors, Childless Couples, and Teens and Gays

The Man Whom Came To Be Dinner

Hurricane Neddy

Weekend ot Burnsie's

Girl's Just Want To Have Sums

Brake My Wife, Please

Sky Police

How Much Is That Birdie In The Window?

Politcally Inept, with Hormer Simpson

Call of the Simpsons

Bart's Comet

Simpsons Tide

The Marge-ian Chronicles

Hormer Simpson, This Is Your Wife

Faith Off

Grade School Confidental

Lisa's Wedding

Simpsoncalifragilisticexpiala(ANNOYED GRUNT)cious

Bart After Dark

Little Big Girl

Dead Putting Society

How The Test Was Won

Skinner's Sense of Snow

How Lisa Got Her Marge Back

Elemetary School Musical

Milhouse Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Lost our Lisa

Girl Code

Who Shot Mr Burns (½)

The Musk Whom Feel From The Sky

To Surviel with Love

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Three Times

Every Man's Dream

Tell Tale Head

Moaning Lisa

Half Decent Proposal

Hormer the Moe

Trash of Titans

The Great Wife Hope

The Man Who Grew To Much

24 Minutes

Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield

You Don't Have To Live Like A Refree

Boy Meets Curl

The Fight Before Christmas

Team Hormer

The Great Money Caper

Margical Histroy Tour

Some Enchanted Evening

Treehoue of Horror XII

Peeping Mom

Hello Gutter, Hello Fadder

Moe From Rags to Riches

Teenage Mutant Milk-Caused Hurdles

Puffless

Hormer Badman

At Long Last Leave

Treehouse of Horror X

Cue Detective

Simpsorama

Worst Episode Ever

Treehouse of Horror IX

#The Simpsons #My personal list of Simpsons epsiodes that I will rewatch #The list will grow and change as the 30th season starts

[another-chorus-girl]

“Erik House” Chapter 6

Well here it is! More drama soon to unfold!

Entering the Meriks' lair like parlour, Kerik sat down with a stifled yawn beside Crawford whom was casually sipping at a mug reading L'Epoque.

"So, you get any last night?" Kerik asked, causing Crawford to cough violently, abruptly swallowing a mouthful of hot tea.

"Excuse me?" He asked, flabbergasted at the upfront question, setting the newspaper down.

"I know she stayed the night, I was just curious." Kerik answered innocently, scratching behind Ayesha's ears as she hopped on his lap.

Crawford shook his head, "I'll have you know I am a complete gentleman when it comes to Sarah."

"Still doesn't answer my question." Kerik said flatly as the older man scowled.

--

Panaro opened his eyes groggily sitting up, he realised he was back in his room. Though he didn't remember what had happened. Well that wasn't necessarily true. He remembered talking and then music, but not falling asleep. But it was

He heard a knock at the door, "Yes?"

Opening the door, Karimloo stepped in setting down a steaming mug of coffee. The slightly taller man still dressed in his vibrant night robe.

"Sleep alright?" Karimloo asked

"I don't recall falling asleep actually."

A small smile crept on the other man's face.

"Well I'll catch you up. I sang for you my music, a new aria I've been working on. You soon became drowsy and I carried you back to your room." Karimloo explained.

"I see, well thank you." Panaro nodded, standing upright.

Karimloo chuckled, patting the other man on the back as Panaro sipped his coffee.

"I'll give you some time to wake up," He said exiting the room.

"For the last time my personal affairs are none of your concern!" Karimloo heard a disgruntled Crawford say from within the parlour lair.

"It's only one question! Did you or not?!" Kerik argued in a whiny tone.

--

"Ohh who's my sweet little lady? Hm? Who is?" Kerik cooed as he recorded Ayesha staring up at him, mewing.

"Ahh, so musical. Sing for me my sweet." He chuckled as the Siamese rolled onto her back, continued to mew, her purrs so loud she seemed to vibrate.

Kerik heard a knock at the door and grumbled turning off the camera. "Yes?"

The door opened as his yellow eyes grew wide.

"You? What but I-?"

A young man was standing in the doorway with dark hair like his own and those same deep green eyes as she had.

"Good to see you as well father." Charles answered with a chuckle. Ayesha's head perked up mewing at her master's son, slinking over to rub against his leg.

Kerik's expression went blank, "Oh don't tell me you brought HIM as well?"

"I'm not mad, he'd be torn apart if I were to bring him here!" The younger man said, referring to his other father figure.

Kerik snorted, "Perhaps you should have brought him in that case."

A floor above Mr Y was enjoying his afternoon, also playing host to guests. He was playing a new composition for Anna and Gustauve.

"Oh darling it's beautiful. Very beautiful indeed!" She gasped hearing the piece.

"Ah thank you, but not as beautiful as you." Mr. Y acknowledged her.

"Father, may I try?" The boy asked,

The man chuckled, proud of his musical prodigy. Scooting over he lifted the boy up onto the piano bench "Go on."

As Gustauve played, Mr. Y smiled down at him.

It seemed several house residents had unexpected but pleasant visitors.

But one lonely man was not too happy.

--

Sitting in the main floor parlour, Harley scowled. He was practically seething as he stared out the window.

Sarah and Christine were leaving this afternoon. The blonde gave she and her companion some privacy to say goodbye.

The chestnut haired girl reached up, kissing Crawford's malformed lips, her hand tracing along the curve of the porcelain mask. Slowly she pulled away the mask, revealing the twisted marred flesh on the right half of his face. Old habits and all he hesitated, his arms trembled just inches from touching her as if she were made of glass. But Crawford's hands stopped trembling, before finally placing a hand on her back gently, the other intertwined with her hand. They broke apart as he fingered with a stray curl.

Harley made a noise between a groan and a gag of disgust.

Gerik lowered the book he was reading, "Something wrong?"

"She was suppose to be mine!" Harley snapped,

Gerik looked out the parlour window, "Ah I understand."

While he did on a level understand Harley's situation, at least Gerik had Emmy.

"It was suppose to be me! Not that...that bloody TWIT!" The metal masked man exclaimed, rousing Warlow whom lowered the paper he was reading. Mauer, whom was sitting by Warlow mumbled something in the man's ear, the latter nodding with a stern scowl.

Gerik caught the looks and cleared his throat.

"Now now," He started, "I mean it's not all bad-"

"Easy for you to say! You got a theatrical release! What do I have? A few grainy music videos that's what! He stole all of it from me! That they would pick a choir boy over me!"

During Harley's tangent, Warlow and Mauer slipped out of the parlour, Gerik getting an uneasy feeling as the men departed.

"He's not even that good! I mean really, the old sap was an absolute joke! You agree I'm right?" Harley asked hopefully.

Gerik stammered. "Err...well that is to say.."

He suddenly noticed the increasing number of occupants in the parlour. Warlow and Mauer had returned, along with them were Jones, Lewis, Panaro, Karimloo, and Carpenter. Suddenly the air felt very heavy within the parlour.

"Perhaps I'll go check on Emmy," Gerik babbled an excuse to get out of sight.

Harley, oblivious to the growing number of Meriks or Gerik's departure, looked out the window at the pair.

"It's unfair." He paused, "Hey, are you-?"

Harley spun around, Gerik nowhere in sight among the sea of white half masks Harley now stared back at him, a scowl gracing their expressions.

"W-What's all this?" He asked mildly annoyed.

Harley was shoved against the wall by Panaro who sneered at him.

"Don't know when to stay quiet do you?" Mauer asked rhetorically.

"Or to show a little bit of respect. You're just as arrogant as that insolent fop." Karimloo glared

"Respect?! Oh please!" But Harley was silenced feeling the air escape him as Panaro had his hands wrapped around his throat.

"A choir boy eh?!" Carpenter exclaimed. "At least he doesn't sound more toadish than that tart Carlotta!"

Jones exchanged a look with the others, "This isn't going too far is it?"

"NO ONE DISRESPECTS DAD LIKE THAT!" Panaro shouted.

"Did you just say-?"

"We were all thinking the same thing, don't deny it!"

--

"Safe travels, my dear." Crawford said, as Sarah and Christine departed. Entering the foyer, he heard a commotion going on inside. Following the sound to the parlour he was startled to see several of the Meriks had jumped the unfortunate Harley. The man's long cape was torn and trampled, his suit jacket ripped at the seams, and at the moment he was attempting to push Panaro, Karimloo, and Warlow away whilst protectively gripping the mask on his face they were clawing at.

"ENOUGH!" Crawford's voice boomed in the parlour, causing the other's to cock their heads in the older man's direction. "Just what exactly is going on here?!"

The three men released Harley-whom fell on his backside as he hit the floor-as they stood to face Crawford.

"We were just giving our...friend a lesson in what respect means." Carpenter mumbled, shooting a groaning Harley a glare.

"I hardly think any disrespect warranted this," Crawford said still somewhat confused as to what happened.

"You didn't hear what this cad said!" Panaro pointed an accusing finger.

"All the same I think it looks like you made your point gentlemen."

"Are you quite alright?" Crawford asked Harley, extending a hand to help him up.

Harley scowled, refusing the older man's offered hand and staggered to his feet, hobbling away clutching the torn cape around himself.

Blinking, Crawford was ever still oblivious to the seething jealousy radiating off Harley.

*Yes Karimloo was wearing the mandarin robe

*So Anna is referring to Anna O'Byrne from the Australian productions Christine for Ben Lewis Mr Y in Love Never Dies.

*If a Merik is ever referred to as Lewis this is in reference to Norm Lewis, not Ben.

*For those who haven’t read Kay, (SPOILERS) Charles is Erik’s son in “Phantom” whom was born after Erik died and of course we have Gustauve is Mr Y’s from Love Never Dies

*The 'choir boy' jab at Crawford is due to a salty Steve Harley commenting bitterly that Crawford had a "choir boy voice" >:(

#erik headcanon #erik house #PotO #phantom

[sweetmaple]

Badagala has Gas; In Other News A Handy Mage Falls into a God and is Interrogated by Squid

Badagala has Gas; In Other News, A Handy Mage Falls into a God and Is Interrogated by Squid.

“Um, is Manstein, ape!”

The handy mage in silk stocking licked the mud off their fingers and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

The tall, balding artificer squiggled a pendant over the rack for effect.

“Squashy little foreigner. Get back on your lizard, little man, and go back to Tevelele!”

The lizard in question urp’d noisily, blowing a large, dirty brown bubble from one nostril. The handy mage patted its flank.

“Go gentle, old gal.”

The artificer banged a large drinking vessel with a barely legible inscription on its side in some archaic script onto his workbench and said, “I challenge you to a contest.”

“I challenge you in turn. Fuck yourself.”

And with that the handy little mage swung up on to his lizard and balustraded off through the tower market, setting the artificer’s shop swaying with the oomf of Badagala’s mighty swaying stride.

Ok, it was more of a wobble, and the little towers in which all the mages kept their arts and crafts shops only swayed a little bit.

“I’m artificer Roan!” yelled someone from the ground.

Squash! went Badagala. It wasn’t really her fault. She disliked people who wore hats that hissed and spat rocks at her.

“Oh dear,” the handy mage said, pulling up his stockings. “I was so hoping to make it to the Cad and Coward for supper.”

Badagala urp’d again, but brought up some pre-digested bonagol leaf and bits of bug for the handy mage. He took it from her tongue and snacked.

“Dinner is served. My thanks.”

The police pounded down the scrolled stairs, having heard the mighty Squash! of Badagala and smelled the subsequent splatter. Badagala wobbled a little faster.

“Giddy up old friend!” cried the mage, whose name was Chipsetea but who generally answered to ‘Hey you!’.

“Hey you!” the police hollered from the bottom of the stairs where they had arrayed all three of themselves in a wedge of yellow that made them look like an amatuer interpretive dance group on Bualgivian Cheese Night at the Flowing Skirt downtown.

“Oi, not I!” Chipsetea hooted as Badagala put her head down and started a jolting, heaving, scramble for the gates. The onlookers gradually moved out of the way. Badagala was not fast. In fact, the mage had once seen her outrun a cat walking slowly towards a bowl of milk in a barnyard. When the cat got to the milk, it had seemed very surprised to see Badagala. Eight by twelve feet of crusty skin, loose scales, toenail fungus breath and gas was not a feature of its quiet daily existence.

The police, walking at a leisurely pace that showed off their comely ankles and hairy shins beneath their serge police skirts, were rapidly gaining.

But before they got too close, the specter of stench that always trailed Badagala, and seemed practically to be a second entity engaged in some sort of obscure symbiotic relationship with the lizard, wafted off of her and towards the pursuing police. It was capable of moving much faster than Badagala and thus was a defense mechanism Chipsetea had relied upon to escape many squashy, sticky situations.

The police hit the Stench like a wall, and went down just as fast. Bystanders fled. Looking through the discolored air around them made their images wobble like heat coming off of paving stones. Badagala heaved towards the tower gates, put a dent in their solid wood with her headspike, and then shouldered her way through the abused doors and spilled onto the trampled earth of the ground outside the mobile tower.

“Freedom!” Chipsetea whooped, as they tumbled down a tunnel whose walls were spirals of clayey earth and whirling, cloying magic.

Free of the Tower Markets’ antimagic shields, there was nowhere they couldn’t go.

“Oops,” he muttered as one of his hands brushed the wall and turned a nasty green color. They fell out of the tunnel as suddenly as Chipsetea’s hand blackened and fell off, which is to say, about four bears. His hand would grow back in a day or so. There wasn’t a lot he hadn’t grown back after his curse all those years ago in elementary transfiguration. But what can one do when one is a pariah wizard, wanted for accidental crimes and chaos in almost every city-state in Piccolo?

He promptly fell in love with a flower, who didn’t mind that he only had one hand. They were getting down to the enjoyable business of pollination when the island they’d landed on caved in and was swallowed by an angry god.

The god’s trachea was lined with guileless red eyes, and they slid into the universe of the being’s stomach. Chipstea was not quite as handy a mage as he had been previously, so the bubble he had placed around the island to stop it from being chewed to bits was beginning to turn strange colors. An extinct bird with bad eyesight flew into its side and the bubble shattered. Aside from a slight pressure difference and a smell of acidic fish, the air was breathable.

Chipstea and his flower lover fell through pinked clouds and splashed down into a murky sea. The island put down roots that wormed into the lining of the god’s stomach, and this is when Chipstea found out the island was actually a giant parasite. The sea shook with a low, annoyed groan. Badagala urp’d.

Strange fish swam in the sea below them, looking to be made up of random parts pulled from other universes. A gay whale breached the waves, humming Queen songs to itself. Another clouded island was visible in the distance.

“Well adrumps!” Chipsetea the not-as-handy-as-he-used-to-be mage swore. “This is a trip.”

“You’re tellin me, man. Like a whole big family of trips got together and had a big baby trip, and we’re the trip baby! The humungus, swirly trip baby in the middle of a whale’s universe stomach!”

Brilliant, searing white light. Smoke. The smell of ethanol and lemon. A booming voice of no direction or gender saying:

“That didn’t even make sense. Hit them again.”

Chipsetea’s head lolled forward. Badagala urp’d mightily and he jolted awake. He looked around at the remnant universes churned away under the islands billowing digestive lace fringes. A statue of a rock floated past, rolling side over side. He knew, somehow, that is was a statue of a rock and not a real rock. It had that airbrushed craginess. No real rock had moss that lush and dewy and perfect. Maybe it was an egg? He waited to see if it would hatch but it encountered a subcurrent caused by a minor five chord and sank into the bilious sea before the mage could see. Something ran into him. A muscular man with long searchlight-white hair and worried white eyes was dangling from the claws of a giant chicken-dragon hybrid. He looked more confused than scared, and the chicken-dragon was having so much difficulty with its wings that it had completely forgotten to be terrifying, if it ever knew how. Somehow it just didn’t seem important.

Chipsetea waved. The man waved back, then turned into a wisp of mist and floated into the body of chicken-dragon-thing.

Chipsetea didn’t see what came next, but it involved a great deal of squawking.

The god took a sharp right to avoid an unexpected comet piloted by pillaging avocado-fanatics and Chipsetea was abruptly drenched in several tons of stomach-ocean-bile-galaxies. The man with white hair whipped past him, looking resigned with his arms crossed, and smashed into a giant hairy ear which trailed delicate pink tentacles.

Chipsetea abruptly realized he was a story being written, and he didn’t like it. Then he forgot, because those realizations are usually accidental and fleeting because the present universe is a method actor and likes to pretend that reality is normal and that plot holes are minimal.

He was cloaked once more in meddling darkness, and when he opened his eyes there was no more god’s stomach, if there ever had been one. He was lying in a spa, with cucumbers over his eyes and his face smeared with exfoliating green goop. Little silvery fishes nibbled delicately at the dead skin on his feet. Badagala was getting a dry-skin treatment.

He was being attended by a flower he felt he had met before. She didn’t act as if they knew each other and he didn’t work up the courage to ask.

He fell asleep.

He woke up at sunset. Badagala was snoring lightly next to him, and a plate of cold cuts was sitting next to his lounge chair. He sampled one. It tasted of slightly acidic fish.

Feeling freshened, he walked up to his lizard companion and admired her newly supple hide. He woke her, offered her a cold cut, and left some credit units on his side table. They left with one hour til moonrise.

Or at least one of the moonrises. There seemed to be several, and they were all happening fast enough that Chipsetea could see his shadow sliding over the smooth pink marble floor as though pushed by a silent wind. He felt a little motion-sick. A small blue moon dipped below the horizon. He turned around and saw a larger, silvery one rise and begin to glide soundlessly through the sky.

Light like needles stabbing at his eyes. An odd, cold, liquid feeling on the back of his neck.

And that voice again. “Now we’re getting somewhere! Send in the squid!”

Maybe it only sounded like the voice said squid because Chipsetea patted Badagala’s newly smooth and louse free hide and looked around. No squid nearby. Just moon-cactus, snowy desert, and too many moons.

He started to skip along, watching out for gods and squid and odd voices and rather hoping he would meet another gay whale. He’d heard they were excellent conversationalists.

It was a pleasant walk. The footpaths were well-tended and clearly marked. It was never day, but it was never night either. The atmosphere consisted only of a sort of cool-toned bath of light under that peculiarly busy sky. A couple of times, boats spangled with millions and millions of stars crossed the sky instead of moons and once, there was a hopeful cloud of elven souls that whisked across the sky and promptly crashed into the horizon. The moons slipped by them without comment, checking their watches and deciding they didn’t have time to help.

Badagala chose a convex rock and curled up. Chipsetea did too, hoping for pleasant dreams of hydrangeas, honeysuckles, and assorted exotic flora. He was not disappointed.

In his dream, the flower he had seen at the spa had dyed her petals in eye-catching washes of pink and cyan. She took his hand and rainbows burst around his field of vision as if they had been badly Photoshopped in. They walked a ways, about twelve bears, her airy perfume trailing behind her and across Chipsetea’s face. He breathed it in. It left a mysterious pink aftersmell in his nose.

She brought him to a bed of passionflower petals where they laid together and she whispered the creation story of her people in his ear. It involved a deity who grew universes in his stomach like children, and then his skin split open and he released them to the cosmic void where sometimes they locomoted on the backs of elephants who were themselves on the backs of turtles. Other times they were released to dark, wet, organic spheres filled with sparking electrical connections and wired by fine nervelike sinews to the outside world through orifices that held ovoid visual processors and tympanic auditory data-gathering systems held in place by delicate pale bones. Chipsetea was somewhat overwhelmed by all this and by his nascent but strong-willed sense of deja vu. He leapt up from the bed of petals, and followed the scent of hydrangea along a footpath to an innocent-looking bush. However, it grew eyes that regarded him balefully from under their heavily-mascara’d lashes, and he wandered around some more, feeling displaced.

He eventually sat beneath a palm tree and contemplated the meaning of his life. The palm waved its fronds consolingly and Chipsetea was somewhat calmed. He eventually dozed off, and when he drifted to wakefulness again he woke to whirling moons and the comforting scent of Badagala’s morning gas.

***

#Whoevenknows #Badagala #Manstein #Ape #Chipsetea #Chipseteaisconfused #Iamconfused #Everyoneisconfused #Whatisthis??? #Gaywhales #MagicIGuess #Witcherreference #TerryPratchettreference #Flowers #Flowersex #Impliedflowersex #Friends #Imagination

#sorry not sorry #circle story #my best friend and i wrote this four page monstrosity in a couple hours #text post #crack fic #tbh this is also a #crack post #inside jokes #quartzwords

[freereignastarwarsstory]

Chapter 16: Foreshadowing

Disclaimer: We (@zazabelle and @draksisreborn) own nothing but our OCs. Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm and Disney. Please review and enjoy this latest installment. 

The shadow raised the glass to her lips.

She enjoyed the burning feeling as the liquid slid down her throat, but she pointedly let the darkness within swallow the giddiness of the drunken state, leaving her with only the fleeting moment of calm. She’d sated that pit within for the time with her offering, but the drinks were never enough… Never enough.

The shadow stood, her long dress rustling, as she sensed a presence approaching. She let her hand slip away from her now empty glass, and left it to the air. It hovered for a moment before being guided back over to the counter space in her private quarters. 

The door to her room slid open, the dim lights from the hallway casting colors of gray into the shadow’s room. As well as the shadow of a creature with horns.

“Aemay,” The shadow spoke with her sharp but flowing accent, “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“Yes.” The Zabrak woman responded.

The shadow did little more than shake her head; she was used to the girl doing as she pleased, “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere, Inquisitor?” she added sarcastically.

“Yes.” She responded again, “But I lost the target once they left the spaceport in Nar’Shaada and their movements have been irregular so I came back to collect Myros for his assistance tracking the youngling…”

The shadow sensed the pause in her voice, “...And?” 

“I believe there’s someone with her. Another sensitive.” Aemay pressed a button on her wrist comm and an image blinked to life from the holo-projector in the center of the room, “He’s old enough, mistress, to be one of the fallen.”

The image was of the youngling with odd markings, accompanied by a Mandalorian from the looks of the armor, and a human male with blonde, slicked-back hair. The three of them appeared to be walking past a slum-located alleyway. The shadow flicked her finger and a button on the projector’s console clicked, beginning a scan of facial recognition. The shadow noted that nothing popped up on their database for possibly surviving Jedi or apprentices, but the screen did read a match in a different category.

“Cenden Sondron, Imperial nurse… and you say he’s Force-sensitive?” The shadow asked.

“Yes, mistress. Is this going to be a problem?”

“No.” The mistress of shadows said as she turned, “In fact, this makes your job much easier.”

Her attention flicked back to the screen as another match came up in the facial search.

“Was this image taken on Nar’Shaada?” She asked Aemay.

“No mistress. This was taken back on Tiss’sharl. I would’ve taken my opportunity on Nar’shaada if the youngling had left the ship. Why?”

“Because a match just came through the Holo-network on Tiss’sharl’s bounty. It’s not a public bounty, looks to be a personal quarry, but it seems as if someone else is hunting this little mercenary group.” The mistress of shadows mused, “You find this hunter, you’ll find his prey,” she turned to the young assassin, “And our own person of interest shouldn’t be far behind.”

Aemay nodded before the shadow continued, “Do not waste Myros’ time with this. It’s one child. Use the talents that got you this position in the first place.”

As she spoke, the mistress strolled up to Aemay. The shadow’s piercing yellow eyes met with Aemay’s light brown ones. She’d remembered a time when she’d had color in her own eyes, and thoughts behind those eyes. Maybe there’d been ambitions there too but it had been so long since she’d heard a voice calling her forward towards purpose. And even longer since she’d listened to that voice.

She hated Aemay. 

Aemay hated her.

That’s the way it would always be between mistress and assassin, yet they’d never do anything else but loathe eachother out of fear of punishment from someone who knew what to do with hate much better than either of them did.

“Be careful my dear. Come home successfully.” The shadow said as she lifted the young girl’s chin.

“I will. Thank you.” Aemay left the shadow to once again become invisible in the darkness.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nek’s feet pounded down the ship’s corridor, his split shadows growing about him in the red lights lining the wall of emergency backup power as he ran for the engine room.

The entirety of the ‘Raving Titan’ vibrated like a tuning fork that had been struck by a hammer, as the ship’s hyperdrive had been knocked out as it was attempting to jump. It was a wonder that hadn’t been blown to pieces…

“NEK. HOW’S IT LOOKING DOWN THERE!?” Soron’s voice blasted through his comlink just over the sound of the buzzing ship.

“WORKING ON IT!” Nek yelled back as he half-slid half-jumped down the service hatch ladder to the lower levels of the ship.

“GET US OUT OF HERE! AND HAS ANYONE SEEN VIS!?” Soron continued, but Nek didn’t respond.

A horrible smell of smoke and water vapor filled the engine room compartments as the ship attempted to cool the overheating hyperdrive but couldn’t quite compensate for the heat and pressure build up in the engine compartment, he’d have to first relieve the pressure before the cooling system could attack the overheating in the engine and make it’s way to the hyperdrive…

Nek scrambled to one of the overhead compartments for his wrench set, yanking open the metal cupboard,

An arm fell out.

Nek shrieked and jumped back in surprise only to find the arm attached to Vis.

“VIS!? YOU NEARLY GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK.”

The girl had squeezed her small form into the tool’s cupboard; her freckles were shifting about in a frenzy of colors and her wide eyes were filled with terror, “NEK. IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN. We’re all going to dddiiiiieeeeee…” She lamented as she tried to shrink herself down even further into the tube-shaped metal cabinet.

Nek climbed up onto the stool to look inside, “We’re not going to die! I just need to get to the wrenches back there!”

WHOOSH- TING!

He was knocked backward off the stool as a wrench suddenly flew out of the cabinet and struck the engineer straight across his face.

“Ahhhh,” Nek hissed as he rubbed his jaw and picked up the wrench, “Thanks!” 

Taking deep breaths to calm his shaking hands, Nek tightened the wrench around some bolts holding the cooling system together. Prying several of them off, more smog mixture proceeded to explode from the holes of the damaged coolant system but it wasn’t enough…

Suddenly a shadow loomed behind Nek. Moving through the smoke, a soft blue glow permeated the gloom. Nek jumped as a metal claw grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

BX slammed his three-fingered hand in between the slats of the coolant tube, prying the sides apart and allowing smog to now pour out of the system, relieving the pressure in the engine. 

Nek watched as the droid then proceeded to stride towards the control screen and tapped the screen a few times, evidently redirecting power from the engine to the hyperdrive. Not exactly what Nek had been planning on doing but it worked just as well and just as fast. Maybe faster. The engineer squinted suspiciously at the droid, observing BX as he contacted Soron telling their captain they were safe to jump. The blue light now dulling in the droid’s chest.

The ship lurched and the control panel near BX flashed the signal that the hyperdrive had been activated. Lights flickering, and they jumped to hyperspace. 

In the now quiet and not battle ridden path of in-between space, Vis’ cries could now be heard over the still vibrating ship. Nek took a step towards the cupboard where she hid, but BX was already there. Opening the doors, the droid looked inside.

“See? We didn’t perish as you suspected.” BX’s deep metallic voice rumbled.

Vis sniffled and smiled.

“You know, this reminds me of when Soron found me. Except I had been hiding behind a ventilation system panel…” BX explained as he helped the girl climb out of the small space and, surprisingly, began to recount the tale of when and how Soron had discovered him in an old Separatist ship.

After their encounter with the bounty hunter Cad Bane, BX had needed repairs so Nek took it as the opportunity to install the data table design into BX’s chest, including wedging that old lightsaber in there. Now they could access information from the holocrons back on Vis’ temple moon using their orb. Nek didn’t really know how it worked, he’d just installed it, which worried him for several reasons.

Ever since the installation, BX had been acting… Well in technical terms, Nek could only describe the behavior as weird. It was still BX. He talked in the same way, responded to questions in the same way, still had his compulsions when things weren’t organized right, there was just this extra… something to it. Like BX but more, alive?

Nek figured it maybe had to do with the kybercrystal possibly interfacing with BX’s original system? He’d meant to ask Cenden or Vis or just run his own tests, but that’s hard to do when for the past week and a half you’ve done nothing but almost die. 

Beebs had not made any idle threats. For the past week (weeks plural according to the various planets and star systems they’d been across) the crew of The Raving Titan had been on one smuggling mission/money retrieval after another with some of Beebs’ more… difficult customers. So far, their crew handled everything from the ground. With Cenden’s foresight and Vis’ ability to see where people had been, they’d been able to successfully locate everyone they’d needed to and “persuaded” everyone without involving Vis or endangering their ship… Until today. 

This last client was VERY set on keeping their dues out of Beebs’ reach AND they had ties to the mining guild. The aerial attack on The Raving Titan had been a surprise even to Cenden’s grasp of foresight. And Vis’ warning of, “Something’s going to happen,” wasn’t exactly helpful. 

Nek’s wrist comm blinked with an incoming message, “Hey Nek. How’s everything looking down there?” Lerti’s voice came through slightly garbled.

“As good as it can look after that whole mess of a grab and go.” He responded looking around the compartment still swirling with smog.

“BX reports that you were, quote ‘No help at all.’” Lerti said with a smile in her voice even through the static that was breaking the message slightly.

‘Odd.’ Nek thought, ‘That sounds like interference… but there can’t be interference while we’re in hyperspace.’

The thought wasn’t a deep revelation, just a quick passing observation that was instantly replaced with a dozen or so other thoughts immediately upon conception.

“Of course he reports that because he did my job for me, but you don’t hear me complaining,” Nek snarked, looking over where the droid sat with Vis, the droid listening to her talk sullenly at the floor, her freckles a deep blue. “By the way, I wanted to talk with Cenden about BX, is he still at the lower gun?”

His question was instantly answered as Cenden came over the comms, “Please tell Vis to meet me in the upper deck training room.” 

“We only have one training room Cen.” Lerti responded.

“Now, please.” The way Cenden said “please” made Nek think it hurt something inside Cenden to say it. 

Vis obviously overheard the conversation and rose tentatively from her trench coat bundle on the floor to hurry out of the room. This left Nek alone with BX. 

He watched the droid for a few moments, trying to see something more. A difference in the way he moved, a difference in the way the whine of his operating system sounded in the silence, a difference of… anything. 

Slowly, Nek reached out his hand the way he’d seen Cenden and Vis do when they were attempting to feel something. He closed his eyes and focused. ‘Feel something… Feel, anything. Come on Nek.’ He urged himself.

Wait… Maybe he did feel something? A change in environment? Like…

Nek jumped as he opened his eyes and BX stood right in front of him. The enormous commando droid was looking down on the small Devorian man, seeming to observe him the same way he’d been moments before. 

Nek blushed, “Uh, hey BX. How’ve your system functions been since I installed the data table?”

BX cocked his head, as if he didn’t understand the questions before his head gave a slight twitch, “Systems have been functioning properly.” Was the only response he gave before he turned and strode towards where Vis had ran off.

“So when Force stuff happens you’re allowed to act all weird and distance, but when I do that I need ‘to pay attention and stop daydreaming’? Pssf.” Nek said to himself with a roll of his eyes and got back to work on the engine.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Vis! Pay attention and stop daydreaming!” Cenden snapped at me.

All of the little threads I’d been stringing between people on the ship suddenly snapped back to my mind with enough “force” to actually cause me to wince, “Sorry…” I mumbled. He knew that’s not what I was doing. I just couldn’t believe everyone was alive! I was sure something was happening today that was just going to be the pits…

“Vis! Again!” Cenden snapped one more time as I realized he’d been talking to me.

“Sorry.” My vision snapped back to the sparring room we stood in on the ship’s upper level where I’d been receiving my lesson in combat and Jedi-stuff from Cenden.

“Stop saying sorry just do it. Listen or leave, don’t pretend to be here if you’re not.”

“Do or do not?” I said recognizing the frame of reference.

“Yes. You know that one do you? Well then you probably recognize this one: ‘Fear,”” Cenden emphasized, “‘Leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering.’ Fear, by its nature is one of the greatest roots of evil actions as it causes one to focus only on the desire to survive without thought to the Force’s will. Emotions cloud sound judgements in general, but especially fear. Which is why your actions today cannot happen again.”

Something twitched inside me, “But I have good reason to be afraid of being a ship UNDER ATTACK! My entire family died in a fiery crash! And I’m not scared of me getting hurt! I’m scared of you guys getting hurt!” 

From the look on Cenden’s face, I knew I’d said the wrong thing the moment it came out of my mouth. Thinking back, I remembered from a lot of the studies I’d done in Jedi philosophy that they valued the whole “feel nothing and be one with the Force” thing a LOT. And seeing as my freckles had turned the bright mixture of yellow and red, I was NOT doing a good job with that. 

“Sorry. Wait! Not sorry! I mean I am sorry, I’m  just I’m not saying it again! AH!” I tried to shut myself up.

He sighed, “We’ll talk about that later. For now, Lerti? BX? You can come in now.” Cenden said, sensing their presence outside the door.

As Lerti walked in she looked kinda… embarrassed? Why? Because she’d been caught listening in? She should’ve known by now Cenden was good enough to know that! I actually hadn’t noticed Lerti so much as I’d heard the little song the kybercrystal was playing from inside BX’s chest. The little bit of crystal liked his new home and it was nice to hear the song!

“Alright Vis. We’re not shifting schedule just because of a little attack on zhe ship. We’ll be continuing to practice fighting techniques without weaponry. Remember to gather the Force around you as you move, it will help your movements be quicker and more precise.” Cenden explain for the thousandth time as if my guide hadn’t totally helped me kick his butt back at the temple! 

Lerti took position in front of me.

That’s when the world started swimming a little around my vision as my adrenaline suddenly spiked again after having lulled a bit from ALMOST DYING just a while ago! 

I took a breath.

My hands waved slowly through the air and my guide pulled in, swirling through my mind and muscles and then settling over Lerti and her mind and muscles. I felt her body tensing and relaxing with each breath.

She felt familiar with the stance, and it was odd to sense her sensing me in her own kind of way, seeing my stance and movements, and attempting prediction. 

Lerti was supposed to try to hit me in three different ways and I was supposed to use any of the stances Cenden taught me to block or attack. Despite Cenden’s thousand-reminders streak, I could already sense I’d need a thousanth and one more of those pointers.

‘I may have kicked his butt once, but I’m pretty sure you’re just letting me learn this one on my own, huh?’ I thought to my guide. It was annoying to know you were going to lose before we’d even started.

“Ready!” Cenden called.

‘Shouldn’t think like that.’ I thought as I crouched lower.

“Set!” 

‘Don’t think. Just react.’ 

“Go!”

My body swelled with the Force.

I spun about where Lert’s fist sliced through the air. My shoulder undamaged.

‘She’ll spin, her leg will knock me down. Don’t let it hap-’

Lerti spun and her leg hit me clear across the chest.

The world around me went gray and fuzz for a moment and panic spiked through me as the wind was knocked from my lungs. I felt the Force gather about me to console my defeat. I felt it attempting to put air back in my lungs as I wheezed and attempted to smile.

“I- I knew that would happen…” I pushed out of my compressed lungs from my place on the floor.

Lerti reached down to help me up and I felt the bruise forming on my chest even through my armor chest protector I had donned as she helped me to my feet . 

“Knowing somezing in advance doesn’t mean squat if you can’t react to it.” Cenden chastised, “We’re going to try somezing else.” Cenden ushered over BX.

“BX is going to try to hit you.”

“Cool.” I responded.

“You will follow zis pattern: right, left, duck. Right, left, duck. With this knowledge in mind, you can focus only on reaction rather than prediction.”

I nodded. We’d practiced these movements before and despite BX being an enormous… metal, killing machine… Well Cenden thought I could do it, so I can! It makes sense to practice against commando droid models too! BX said he was designed to be able to fight Jedi! ...Wait.

“Alright! Take your positions.” Cenden commanded. I fell into stance and BX did the same.

‘The little song in his chest washed over Vis and she found her voice attempting to imitate the sound flowing about her head.’ 

I shook my head and I noticed I was humming. It was the hum of one of those songs that didn’t exist. Just something that danced into my head every once and a while…

“Ready!” 

‘Focus. Right, left, song. nO! Dodge!’

“Set!”

‘Right, left, duck! Rightleftduck. Riledu.’ I was humming again.

“Go!”

The Force swirled about me as I exploded into action.

BX held nothing back as he swung.

Right, left, duck. Right, left, duck. 

The pattern did not fail and neither did my mind. I resonated with the movements and somewhere in the distance I could feel Lerti’s surprise and Cenden’s approval and Soron’s annoyance and Nek’s boredom, and Chol’s sadness…

I hummed the sound as I moved, I flowed with the movements. I was finally here.

The sound suddenly became deafening in my ears. The sound of the kyber.

‘Rightleftdodge. Rightleftdodge. Riledu. Riledo. Hello.’ 

My face was impacted.

Cool spike of metal pounded through my jaw and I sprawled out on the floor.

I blinked in surprise but couldn’t even cry out in pain… It wasn’t fair! I was in the zone! I’d been distracted by that voice! ...A voice. Where did that come from?

My vision finally cleared and I saw Soron walking by the training room talking into his commlink. He felt concern for me and stress towards the voice on the phone, “Yes, Beebs, we got your quarry and we’re heading to the next rendezvous point now,” he covered the commlink with one of his clawed hands, “Hey guys? Could you put some pillows on BX’s claws or something? Thanks. Yes! I’m still here!” He said as he moved on. 

I heard a hiss slide between Lerti’s teeth, “I’ll go get some ice.”

“And apparently we also need pillows.” I could hear the eye roll in Cenden’s voice. 

I gave a raspberry sound in defeat, and winced at the stinging warm pain in my face. 

The cool night air flew past me in chunks as I cut through it’s invisible ranks. The lightsaber I’d found back in my temple sputtered and spurted in my hand. The cracked kyber inside it’s hilt pumped light to the blade like the beat of a heart. That’s what all kyber felt like to me though, heartbeats. 

I was standing on the flat roof of The Raving Titan.We were on some planet called Sicemon, which I was told was also called “the grass planet” as most of its surface was covered in rolling hills of tall grasses, even in the northern and southern hemisphere. We were here waiting for Beebs’ guys to rendezvous with us and go to our next mission. 

After Cenden’s training session which consisted of BX giving me the experience of an extreme pillow fight against a droid, I’d decided to come up here to get grounded again. No space travel for five years and suddenly I was a professional star-system jumper was not great for the ol’ noggin. 

It felt odd to be on my own with my guide in this moment. I’d been so involved with my new crew, adventuring around the galaxy that I’d forgotten the feeling for a time. The feeling of focused loneliness, and some part of me knew it wasn’t healthy, but I liked that version of loneliness. There was a good version to every bad feeling. That’s what it felt like anyway… There was a balance. 

‘I’m not afraid of the ship crashing. I’m being… shrewd! Yeah, that’s a good word. Shrewd. Purposeful fear focused on avoiding a problem.’ I thought to myself as I continued the practice of pretend fighting. 

The Jedi didn’t believe in fear. Well emotions in general. Using the Force out of fear, or anger or surprise would be wrong… But what if I use the Force just ‘cause I’m happy?

‘I’m happy to be here with my guide and it’s happy to be here with me! Right?’ The Force swirled about me in agreement. I laughed and spun about at the response, my lightsaber making a green arc of color about me. Slowing down, I left the saber;s hilt retract and I stared off into the inbetween, watching the invisible Force swirl about existence in waves and ripples. Dancing about like the wind. 

“What was that warning all about today?” I asked as I reached out and ran my fingers through my invisible friend. “I know it’s hard to communicate sometimes, or sometimes it’s best if I just figure out stuff for myself but this felt important! Was the attack on our ship the important thing?”

In the dark, starry sky, I felt my hand enclosed around another invisible something; a feeling. The Force handed the feeling to me like a grandma handing over a precision family heirloom; a little bit of the future. 

I sat down cross legged and began to unwrap the feelings-ball in my hands. I don’t really know how to describe any other way that that. In the in between space where your eyes can see nothingness and your feeling look like colors, I pretended to unwrap a package from the Force.

I watched my freckles shifting about in colors, and I watched a lot of red, yellow, and purple. Anger, fear, and questions. But about what? Best to play it out.

Igniting the lightsaber again, I stood and swung the blade about in the air to get a feel for some characters. 

The Force swirled around something behind me. A person. 

I squeaked and spun around to face my sneak-attacker. My lightsaber switching off.

Soron.

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Hey Soron! Wassup?” 

The ol’ captain was standing a ways off still next to the hatch to the roof, so he probably hadn’t been standing there long.

He shrugged, “Nothing, just coming to check on you,” he walked over and I could see him squinting in the darkness, “How’s your face?”

“Eh it’s fine! It was cool getting punched by a robot! Besides, in the heat of battle, there’s no time to worry about bruises, only victory.” I said that last part like some old war veteran whispering dramatically about his days in the field. 

Soron chuckled at that and looked out over the moonlit horizon. Probably noticing how the grass under the planet’s one moon kinda looked like rolling waves, or maybe not. It’s hard to tell sometimes how other people thought about stuff.

I liked how Soron treated me. He acted like… well kinda like my mom. He genuinely cared about me and my well-being which I imagine wasn’t normal coming from a hardened mercenary, and based on how the rest of the crew acts around me. But I would get to them. They’d be happy and laugh at my jokes just like him, and it’d be great! 

He looked back down at me, “You closed the blade.”

“Huh?”

“Your lightsaber,” he pointed down at the hilt resting in my hand, “When you thought you were under attack, you closed the blade, why?”

“Uhhhh, well I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“You didn’t know it was me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone?”

“Good.” 

At that he smiled and I smiled back. Why did this feel like what I expected Jedi training to be like? Deep conversations about nothing that would equate to something later?

“What was she like?” I said as I sat down, “Your sister?” 

Soron sighed and sat down next to me. He’d told me about her after Nek had mentioned it in passing. It made sense that the captain had some ties to another Force-sensitive considering his interests and beliefs.

“She was… incredible. She was by far the alpha twin, but we kept each other in line. We were a great team, and she never left me out of anything. Despite her calling to the universe and her abilities in the Force, she always included me.”

“Did she teach you to talk like that?”

“What!?” He laughed.

I felt my freckles turn light red, “I mean, all deep and stuff. Ya know, ‘cause she was Force-sensitive?”

He let out another deep laugh, “Ha! You know, despite my lack of abilities to use the energy of the universe to chuck people across the room, I do consider myself to be very Force-sensitive!” 

“Really!? Why?” I asked with genuine interest. This was so cool.

“Well, because I pay attention.” he shrugged, looking out over the fields again, “I’m sensitive to the planets I visit and the flora and fauna they produce. I’m sensitive to the glint of stars, and the glow of suns. I’m sensitive to the feelings of other people around me, especially if they want to kill me. I pay attention to things, just like you do. And all of those things are connected to the Force. So, yes, I consider myself to be just as Force-sensitive as my sister ever was, just in a different way. And in the same way that you’re connected differently.” He concluded by closing his eyes as a breeze blew through his words, carrying the thoughts along the currents of wind.

“Wow… You’re much better at this.” I responded also closing my eyes.

Without even needed to ask what that meant, Soron replied, “He’s that bad, huh?”

“No… He’s just the tough love sort of teacher, without the love part.”

“Any idea on why he’s like that?”

“Eeeehhhhh no. Everytime I start playing out his story, my brain starts feeling all blocked. It’s like he can sense when I’m trying and gets in my head which is annoying that the Force lets him do that to me.” I said while giving a stink eye to the air.

“Well then, maybe your guide doesn’t want you to know him in that way yet. Maybe he needs to tell you himself…” he paused, “Vis?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you trust Cenden?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as I tried to sort out how to respond to that.

“Um… Yes? Well I mean, I trust all of you guys right? Enough to have barely known you and get and on your ship and let you put me in danger and stuff!” I responded firmly.

“Yes, true, but do you trust him? As an individual? Not as our group, but just him?”

“Well… I think so. I dunno. There was this thing I sensed when I first met him and he blasted me across my temple ‘cause I was winning our fight. It felt, angry? Or ashamed? ...Why are you asking anyway?”

“Just making sure I guess. You’re apart of my family now and I want you to feel comfortable with whatever and whoever you’re dealing with. Even if that’s another family member.” Soron affirmed. 

“Dangit. You’re just the best. I don’t even know you, and you’re like the coolest grandpa I never had.”

“Grandpa?” Soron mused.

“Fine fine! Great uncle! My point being I wish you were the one teaching me how to get beat to a pulp and not Mr. Grumpy-Angry Man.”

“I don’t know how much Force stuff I could teach you but how’s about I teach you some hunting strategies sometime, Shistavenian style?” Soron said as he leaned back on his arms.

“YES! I’D LOVE THAT! WH-”

My words cut off as something twitched in the Force just as Soron’s head also suddenly shot up and peered into the horizon. Small flashes of light could be seen coming from over a hill in the distance. They disappeared as quickly as they’d been seen, but somehow the wind began to feel different.

The breeze picked up again and Soron stood. Nose to the air, his superior sense of smell working in time as he began to search for something on the breeze. A pit dropped in my stomach as my guide swirled about me in warning. Everything around me became very loud, and it felt like everything was moving about me. 

“My guide says something’s happening. I think it’s one of those bad-somethings.” I watched as he didn’t respond but continued smelling the air. After a moment he flashed his commlink on.

“Chol, we’re about to be ambushed, get the engine’s prepped.” Switching his gaze towards me he snapped, “Vis get inside now.”

“Okay!” I didn’t argue as I stood and began to scramble towards the hatch.

“What!?” I could hear Lerti’s voice come through the comm, “Are you sure it’s not just Beebs’ guys here to get their quarry?”

“I’m not sure. But I smell a lot of smoke off in the distance, smells like burning fuel but it’s far enough away not to be seen. This isn’t an Imperial controlled planet and there’s not a town around us for miles. Beebs’ men may have been stopped from reaching us I don’t know! Something’s up and I’m sure it’s-”

The sound of a ship suddenly appeared overhead. The wind whipping around us as a blinding spotlight suddenly shone down from above. ‘The ship had been cloaked?’ I wondered as I made it to the hatch and opened in.

Looking back I realized Soron wasn’t moving, but he also wasn’t armed… Wait. Where’s my lightsaber?

I heard the blade ignite and sputter in Soron’s hands, the glow of green becoming like an aura around him. He took up a stance similar to what Cenden had shown me and squinted up at the light. Above the sound of the whirring engines I could hear Soron reconnect his commlink.

“Lerti, it’s something else alright. And you’re not going to like it. I think it’s him. Is it time for running, or revenge?”

#Free Reign: A Star Wars Story #Free Reign #free reign chapter 16 #star wars #star wars fanfiction #zazabelle9200 #zap #draksisreborn #foreshadowing #fanfiction #star wars rebels #star wars clone wars

[pennysaviour1]

DIY Halloween Costumes Ideas for Kids

With all the Halloween preparations, shopping, and decorations going on have you asked your little one about who they want to become this Halloween?

Every year they have these different ideas of becoming a superhero, dressing like a Disney princess, or simply just an Olaf! It gets impossible to buy these expensive Halloween costumes every single year unless there are some undeniably adorable Halloween costumes on Amazon. Whatever the circumstances are, you have to figure out a way to make their holiday memorable and fun. Because let’s face it, they will soon grow up and start wearing those creepy Halloween costumes of their own choice.

So let’s get to some easy DIY Halloween costumes ideas for your kids to make them feel special with some easy arrangements.

1.      Olaf Halloween Costume

With frozen 2 coming just around the corner of Halloween, there is a high chance that by now, your kid has made a demand for an Olaf costume that you can easily make them with just a white hoodie. Just attach some big black buttons on the front, some brown hair on the hood, and make an orange cone shape nose all with felt sheets, and your baby will be the one worth melting for.

2.      Baby Gumball Machine

This DIY costume can give your sweet baby a favorite look, and you can make it just with an infant pilot cap, some pom-poms, and glue. Have fun while sticking multicolored pom-poms on the cap and dress your child in a red frock that she might already have. Write 25 cents on a felt sheet and they are good to go. Everyone will love o have to have a glimpse of this cute little gumball machine.

3.      Pac-Man

Your kids must love playing video games. Introduce them with that legendary Pac-man video game that they love to play, and you can make them a costume that will bring up some nostalgia for you. You can cut a round-shaped cardboard, find its center and make an accurate triangle mouth. Make two armholes and attach the cad board with hot glue. Finally, spray the whole cardboard with yellow spray paint, and your Pac-man will be all set to chop his fruits.

4.      Grandma and Grandpa

Give your kids a funny look and make them laugh with this creative idea of dressing up like their grandma and grandpa. You can quickly get a pre-made costume from Amazon, prepare a headcover with some grey pom-poms, and complete the look by getting your kid a little walker to walk around. This DIY costume idea can make your holiday fun and unique.

5.      Marry Poppins

After almost four decades, Mary Poppins Returns has brought all the childhood memories back, and now your kids must also love Mary Poppins as you do. It can be just the right time for you to put together a renowned super califragilistic expialidocious costume for your kids. Get a cheap black hat and apply some flowers on it with glue, you can also make this hat through a felt sheet. Find a simple white button shirt, a trench coat, tie a ribbon bow around the neck and complete the look with a parrot umbrella.

Make your Halloween easy and DIY by going with any of the looks we have discussed today and can also avail some Halloween Coupons for 2019 for yourself so that you can enjoy your holiday.

#Halloween #Halloween Costumes #Costumes #PennySaviour