Yeet Yourself Into The Abyss

MrReindeerface . mrsini . ieatrubberbands . LJ Nicolson

[fantasticflynn]

Somehow these two are supposed to save Faerun from a cult raising Tiamat and laying waste to the Channathvale. But first, they needed a pub crawl in Rethmar where they got drunk and got handsy. The Red Hand Horde should fear this bard and wizard duo. Finally drew Dori, my NPC, and Lore, @mrreindeerface 's character, from my 5e D&D game. Also can't forget Ser Toast, Lore's tressym familiar.

[trapcard]

My sexuality is “im not fucking you, so don’t worry about it”

[thelovewittch]

How could you ever be broken?

[mrreindeerface]

WTNC Mini-Fics

So @galleywinter threw a challenge flag at my head to start writing again. These are dedicated to her (thank you for listening to me scream on discord for a week)

Under the cut because there’s a few of them and it got kinda long.

Butterflies in your stomach and your heart skipping beats- that can’t be safe

Alkar is pouting again.

Wren still finds it adorable, likes to watch from the warmth of Omen’s embrace (be it tail or arms) as the two of them watch their wolf stalk around their home, muttering under his breath as he rearranges things that don’t need to be moved. Sometimes they wake at night, red eyes glaring in the dark even as he burrows deeper in between the two of them.

It’s just feelings, Alkar, they’d tried to tell him, palms pressed against his cheeks. His ears had gone back and he’d scowled.

Doesn’t feel healthy, his grumble hadn’t done anything to hide the blush skating across his cheeks.

Tonight… tonight is different – tonight there’s only two of them. Laid out under the night sky, grass soft beneath them as they trace meaningless patterns between the stars. The earth is cool against their skin, but held by the living furnace that is Alkar Wren barely even notices.

It would be easier, they muse, with Omen there. But he had gone to see Elaine and Armaros, so Wren was on their own to keep Alkar from sulking into the next century.

“Hey,” they say, turning far enough to slide a hand into his hair.

“Hey yourself,” he mumbles, flicking back the ear they had been reaching for.

“You’re pouting again.”

“Am not.”

“Alkar.” Wren sighs. “You can say you miss him. It won’t kill you.”

“I do not miss people,” his voice is just a hair above a growl. Wren ignores the small thrill it sends through them.

“Oh?” Wren puts on a fake pout (they’ve gotten better since practicing their Alkar imitation.) “Not even me? I guess that means I can go away on longer assignments then?”

There’s a moment where they swear they see fear in Alkar’s eyes, and then he’s on top of them, pinning them to the ground while they try to get enough air to laugh under the weight of a six-something Lycan.

“Mean,” Alkar says, nipping at the shell of their ear. “You are mean.”

Wren buries their hands in his hair, holding him close.

“You love it.”

Praying won’t do you much good around here.

She knows there’s something wrong in Lunaris from the moment they arrive. Call it a feeling, superstition, paranoia from years of Hunter training to see threats around every corner.

Night falls in waves in this town: one calm as the sky after rain and one oppressive enough to be felt. There is a night of starry skies and a night cloaked in shadow so dark her bones ache.

The people are terrified to be outside, running for safety as the sun sinks below the horizon. They watch with shuttered, suspicious eyes as she carries out her investigation, wishing for an end to the madness and not sure if they can believe she’ll be the one to deliver it.

Hell, she isn’t even sure she can save them. Lunaris keeps many secrets, and it keeps them well protected. Even those who offer her their assistance, their friendship, look at her with apologies scrawled on their faces. They know things, they don’t tell her these things, and she runs into every problem blind.

Don’t trust anyone.

The sooner she can get this done, free this town from whatever nightmare that holds it this time, the sooner she can get away.

I'm not playing 20 questions with you

Two cards hit the table – a 3 from Omen and a 10 from Poppy.

“Favorite place to be during the day?”

“Down in the markets,” Omen replied dutifully. Poppy began scrawling his answer in their notes as he continued. “There’s a lot of activity so it’s easier to get a read on people.”

Alkar snorted into his tankard in what might have been contempt. Hard to tell with him.

Their table is surprisingly tame for its current occupants. Alkar, it seems, is contenting himself with watching their game while studiously ignoring the looks he’s getting from the other patrons. Alaric, for once, has his “let’s fuck with Alkar” gauge set to low, because he’s been nothing but well-behaved since they sat down.

They had seen Finn and Ezra only briefly, the two had kept their heads down and come and gone in record time. Ezra had looked like hell: Poppy had heard from passersby earlier that afternoon that someone in town had been badly hurt in the woods. Maybe they hadn’t made it.

They flipped another round of cards.

Omen made a small sound of delight and Poppy looked own. Omen’s King outclassed their 8 by a long shot. They raised their glass and took a drink.

Omen grinned, mindful of his tusks. “What is your favorite color?”

“Green,” Poppy replied immediately. “Emerald green, more specifically.”

“Bullshit,” Alkar smacked a hand on the table. “I’ve never seen you wear anything green!”

“You don’t have to wear something for it to be your favorite color,” Omen replied, though he added that fact to the list on his page as well.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but I do wear green. Almost every day, in fact.” Poppy looked up at him without raising their head. “Just because it’s somewhere you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

Alkar sputters and goes red: Alaric raises his glass in toast. Poppy tries very hard to ignore the grin on Omen’s face that had gone from curious to mischievous faster than expected.

“If you have any further questions you are welcome to join the game,” Poppy offers in lieu of addressing it. Alkar’s nose crinkles.

“I’d pay to see that,” Alaric muses. “Where do you live? Fuck off. Why don’t you wear shoes? Fuck shoes. Do you have any other clothes? Fuck clothes.”

Omen has a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter – the shaking of his shoulders would give him away were it not for the fact that Alkar had his wrath focused on the Hunter across from him.

“I know more words than fuck,” Alkar sneers. “And I do own other clothes thank you very much.” He turns his attention to Poppy and Omen. “Don’t write that down it doesn’t count.

They both write it down anyway. He tells them both to go fuck themselves.

Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted

“Hunter,” there was a warning in August’s voice. “We’re supposed to be working.”

Alaric hummed, contemplative, even as he crowded August back against their desk. “Work will still be here in the morning, General.” Slowly, giving August the chance to back out if they wanted it, he raised his hands to their shoulders, sliding palms down their arms until he could tangle his fingers with theirs. “I seem to remember someone making me a promise to stop sleeping in their office.” August rolled their eyes, but the defensive set of their jaw had softened as soon as his hands were on them.

“It’s hardly late enough for that to be a concern.” They sighed, leaning their forehead against his and closing their eyes. “I’m not going to overdo it.”

“Uh-huh.” Alaric tugged at their joined hands, pulling August’s body forward against his. “Let me take you home, August. The reports can wait.”

“I have to get these done before the gala on Friday,” they warned, even as they let themselves be drawn across the office. “I can’t keep wasting time.”

“Resting is not wasting time.”

August arches an elegant brow at him. “I very much doubt whatever is on your mind could be considered resting, Hunter Fehler.”

Alaric didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Come now, give your husband some credit. You know I have your best interests at heart.”

“We’ll see.” August took their hands back, nodding towards the door. “Lead the way home then, husband.”

I think it's safe to say that we have a really big problem on our hands.

Piper is laughing at her.

Correction, Piper is laughing at the ground, if only because she is doubled over and cackling hard enough that she can’t stand up straight.

“You could be helping me, you know.” If her voice is sharp it’s deserved. So much for being partners, eh General?

“Right, right,” Piper makes a half-hearted attempt to get herself under control. “Sorry, Lieutenant General.”

Alkar headbutts her again. Piper starts on another round of laughter.

“I hate you both so much right now,” Greer mutters, feeling the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck. She places her hand in the middle of Alkar’s furred forehead and braces the next time he tries to push forward. “Personal space much?”

For all her years of service, she could firmly say she’d never seen a Lycan under the full moon pout. She wishes that were still true.

“Oh gods now he’s sulky,” Piper manages between gasping breaths for air. “You hurt his feelings Hunter Taggart.”

Greer cuts a glare in her direction. “You can start being useful at any time, Merriman.”

Her attention divided, Alkar takes the opportunity to press his head against her stomach. Again.

“Fucking- Alkar!”

“All right, all right.” Greer watches as Piper bodily pulls herself together. “Let’s see if we can’t get him to Finn. Hopefully that ancient mosquito will know what to do.”

[mrreindeerface]

Character Info for When The Night Comes

I’ll be honest, this got away from me a bit. I am not entirely sure this is coherent and I had to fight myself to not info-dump because I have so many thoughts on these dorks. For @galleywinter who has been patient with my need to scream about this fantastic game

Les Full Name: Alessa Mylona – also answers to Lessa Age: 27 Height: 5’10”

Les is the Hunter General in Lunaris. She’s headstrong, composed, and very much a stickler for the rules. She can be a bit standoffish at first – but is always willing to take the time and listen if someone needs her. She’s been a bit of an overachiever since she was young, which tends to rub off on the people around her whether they want it to or not. She’ll follow the spirit of the law rather than the letter of it – she’s gotten a fair share of citations in her files from going against orders when she felt it wasn’t the right thing to do. She can be very caring when needed, but tries to hold herself apart from people to help with her work.

She was orphaned at a young age, and was too difficult of a child to find a home anywhere until she was taken in by the Hunters. She puts a great deal of effort into appearing the ‘perfect’ Hunter, mostly out of fear she’ll lose the one family she’s ever really known. Although she worked on her own the first few years, she and Wren partnered on a difficult assignment and have been inseparable ever since. At the academy she specialized in Demonology – she fights with a weighted quarterstaff mostly but also has a few smaller silver daggers (just in case).

Les knew of the Piper Meriman before coming to Lunaris, more as the legend of a Hunter than as a real person. It was a bit of an early blow to find out the Enforcers would cast aside someone with that kind of reputation, though it did give her the chance to get being starstruck out of her system (and somewhere Piper couldn’t see her). There’s never been any hesitation on her part with letting Piper take the lead, not only because Piper is a force of nature but because Les likes having a chance to not be in charge of everything. Piper is one of the few people who can get her to shirk responsibility and just have fun.

Wren Full Name: Florian Laurent Age: 26 Height: 5’7”

Wren is the Hunter General’s right hand. They are very quiet, seeming almost shy, but they can be unyielding as steel. They are fiercely loyal to those they care about, almost to the point of absurdity. Although dedicated to their career as a Hunter, they weren’t prepared for volume of bureaucratic nonsense that came with the territory of trying to help people. Wren will flout any rule necessary to do the right thing, at least the right thing by their standards. They’re much more empathetic than their partner, and don’t bother to maintain a distance from the people in their life.

Wren grew up the oldest of three children – their father was forcibly retired as a Hunter due to a spinal injury. Hoping to carry on the family tradition of being a ‘hero,’ they studied and trained until they could be tested. Although never a truly model student, they were still one of the best. They specialized in Weapons and Combat training and spent their first few years in the field honing their tracking skills. They are unparalleled at laying traps and setting ambush locations – usually with some guidance from Les. They prefer to fight from a distance, using ranged weapons and resorting to daggers only when necessary.

They were wholly unprepared for the Lunarian double-threat of Omen and Alkar. Both of them had a unique charm, and proved to be effortlessly entertaining for the needling-inclined Wren. The two of them served as a good distraction and break from the insanity that was the investigation, and Wren was more than happy to play matchmaker in the early stages of their relationship. It can be a bit tricky for them to not get sucked into teaming up with one or the other to get the third, but in reality that’s part of the fun of their relationship.

 Les and Wren

They started working together three years before coming to Lunaris after teaming up together on a particularly tricky mission. Wren liked the convenience of having what was essentially a battering ram on their side, while Les appreciated knowing there was someone at her back to help out. Although Hunter teams are not common, and are often split up if called for, the two of them fought tooth and nail to be kept together every time they needed to be transferred.

Not only in sync in battle, the two also work well together off the field. Les is much better suited to maneuvering (read: manipulating) the Enforcers to get what they need whereas Wren has been much better at connecting to the Creatures and getting insider information. Although both have their own way of handling civilians, they ultimately have the same goal: to put on a good face for the organization, despite the recent situation.

 Alaric Full Name: Gideon Alaric Fehler Age: 31 Height: 6’2”

Alaric came to Lunaris by chance, as a Hunter on a specialty assignment. Although he holds himself proudly there’s always a mischievous glint in his eyes. He’s a sucker for having a laugh and a round of ales in the tavern, as much as he enjoys the sense of accomplishment that comes with seeing a town that fees safe because of the work the Hunters do. As he operates, to some degree, outside of the standard Hunter/Enforcer system he can come off a bit of a loose cannon, but at the end of the day his interest is protecting the people.

Originally from Thiyrus, Alaric was sent to join the Hunters by his mother who dreamed of having her son grow up to be strong and a protector for their homeland. Although she did get her wish, he always carried a hint of resentment at the pain her choice brought him. Despite this, he dedicated all his time and effort to his training and studies: he specialized in Alchemy and Demonology both. In combat training he favored short swords, enjoying the adrenaline rush that came from being in the middle of a fight and dancing around his opponents.  

Alaric fell hard and he fell fast for August – as comically “love at first sight” as can be imagined. He was immediately drawn in by their grace, composure, and the raw depth of power he could sense under their skin. Due to the nature of their work, he originally decided not to act on his feelings as he felt a workplace relationship was not the best idea. The longer their task kept him in Eskria, and by extension in Lunaris, the more he found himself wishing to court them. The delight he felt when his interest was immediately (and intensely) returned was palpable, and the two have been nigh inseparable since.

 Poppy Full Name: [Redacted] – Also answers to Pippa, Pips, and Pip (only used by Alaric) Age: 24 Height: 5’1” or 5’2”

Poppy is not a Hunter, but a Witch working under the mantle of Enforcer, though their history with the organization can be considered complicated at best. They hold themselves tightly, observing with sharp eyes rather than interacting with the world around them. There’s a sly humor to them if caught at the right moment – they are guilty of playing small tricks just to get a laugh out of a group of children more than once. They are also sharply intolerant of those who would do harm to others out of fear and misunderstanding, leaving them usually opposition with others in their order. Underneath the hard exterior is someone very afraid of being vulnerable – something they spend a lot of time trying to hide.

Protective of their origins, Poppy doesn’t talk much about who they are and where they’re from, not even to those they consider close friends. Although Alaric seems to hold many of their secrets, even he will say he knows almost nothing. They do frequently allude to being from somewhere “far away” and come from a “rather large” family – brothers and sisters of all sorts are mentioned in passing. At some stage they received both magic and combat training: their skill with barriers and forcefields is unmatched and the enchanted blade hanging at their side is not just for show. They are an alchemist on the side, mostly using the skill to brew potions and poultices for their frequently injured Hunter.

As they arrived in Lunaris several months before everything truly went to shit, they were able to catch a glimpse of Finn and Ezra together in their prime. Though instantly intrigued by both of them, Poppy was content to have their relationship stand at “enthusiastic flirting” and nothing more. After Finn’s attempt at distancing and the escalation of Lunaris’ problems, Poppy was unexpectedly caught up in their reunion – quite literally walking in on them shortly after they reconciled. Though it was uncharted territory for them they will grudgingly admit it all worked out in the end, and that they are happier for it.

 Alaric and Poppy

Having originally met on a special assignment in Aclea, the two of them complimented each other perfectly as both fighters and scholars. As both of them specialized in locating, identifying, and containing magical phenomena they were quickly organized into a specialist unit. Though this meant they were forced to travel in excess, it gave them both the opportunity they wanted to forge their own roles within their respective organizations.

Being sent to investigate the sudden spike in supernatural events across Eskria, and in Lunaris in particular, this assignment is their first “long-term” arrangement somewhere. It has provided Alaric the opportunity to train and fight beside one of his personal heroes, and has given Poppy the space to experiment with new recipes and spells. Though certainly one of their more challenging assignments, it is proving to be one of the most rewarding as well.

[galleywinter]

mrreindeerface replied to your post: I said before I’d be back. Now, I mean it. Despite…

WTNC is such a fantastic game you made a wonderful choice but also welcome to the spiral

OH LORD TELL ME ABOUT IT.

I’ve since played everyone’s monogamous routes and have initiated Ezra/Finn’s polymance but I don’t think I started properly as it didn’t feel as organic as I’d hoped (I started with Finn first and added Ezra; I think it would feel more natural going the other way). The only route I have no intentions of doing is the Alkar/Omen/MC polymance. Alkar and Omen just…don’t feel like a couple to me? They read more as an affectionate friendship for me. I just don’t see it. Also Alkar is with my Greer and they just work too well together

I also did a Disaster Hunter playthrough last night and holy shit it broke me

I love every LI in that game. They are all such wonderful amazing people full of depth. But Alkar is definitely my favorite.

Don’t encourage me to talk about Greer. Because I will. At far too much length.

And also the headcanons I’ve been building to try to explain some of the worldbuilding and whatnot. I have so much I could say. So. Much.

[mrreindeerface]

IT’S SUCH A FUN TIME

My first playthrough was a Finn/Ezra route and I also started with Finn but that’s because I couldn’t see them being confident enough to start anything more than just flirting with Ezra (he’s too pure for this world)

I get where you’re coming from on Omen/Alkar but the thing is when the game starts they are just affectionate friends? Their relationship won’t start unless the Hunter initiates it because they’re both too big of dorks to start it themselves. But they’re also wonderful alone and I don’t know if you’ve played the mini story that was released recently but Alkar is adorable in it I highly recommend if he’s ruining your life.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to do the Pledge route. The devs streamed it a few weeks ago on an August playthrough and that was the closest I got. As soon as I got a crying sprite I just ‘noped’ out of there it’s soul crushing.

They do have lore and such on their tumblr if you’re interested in the ‘official’ stuff @ / whenthenightcomesgame

Please give me all your headcanons and Greer thoughts I love hearing about people’s hunters it’s so much fun

[galleywinter]

I feel slightly better that I didn’t miss anything weirdly obvious with Omen/Alkar, then. It felt like they were really leaning it that way at certain times, and it definitely wasn’t as obvious as Finn/Ezra, but it felt like the devs do intend for Alkar and Omen to be together if you aren’t with one of them and it just wasn’t resonating with me at all. I did all of the monogamous routes first because I really did want to get a grip on who these people were and how they all fit into each other’s lives and Lunaris before I tried something more relationally complex. I went through the order of things this way: Alkar, Finn, Ezra, August, Piper, Omen. Then back to Alkar because I had already missed him terribly (he is ruining my life and I love you for giving me that phrase because really wolf boy this isn’t fair). Then the Disaster Playthrough. I only did it because I was hoping I would get more information locked behind choices I hadn’t made (I always always condemned the Big Bad all the way through and condemned them but remained silent at the end there). I didn’t get what I’d hoped, but I wasn’t disappointed with what I did get. But my God it hurt. Especially considering Alkar (trying to avoid obvious spoilers here…). Hurting him just about ripped my heart out. And hurting August that way…I needed a good walk around my house after I got done with it. It was absolutely horrifying to do.

I’m not regretting the Finn/Ezra polymance as a palate cleanser after that, but like I said - I don’t think I’m happy with how I initiated it, so I’m going to go back and retrigger it all. I took Finn to the Festival and started with him (flirting with Ezra, too, whenever I could), but adding Ezra to that element, despite Finn’s obvious love for him (and his for Finn)…didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like a legitimate three-way relationship for me. I think, considering the fact that Finnegan is openly, unapologetically, unrepentantly sexual no matter what route you’re in, but Ezra is only so with you if you do romance him…that starting with Ezra so the bond is there with my Hunter (Brighid - I never reuse my people) and then adding Finn into the mix may feel a bit more organic for me.

I haven’t played the mini story yet! I actually almost forgot it existed! I should pop over and do that right now…because Alkar.

You seriously want me to talk about Greer? Cause I will. But I don’t know if I should do it here on this reblog or in a completely separate post. Because pfff I will go on about her. And I’d love to hear about your Hunter(s), too! I’m just so excited more people I know and talk to are playing this game!!

[mrreindeerface]

It’s certainly a different dynamic between them, even in their solo routes to their personal routes. I personally thought it was really interesting to see Alkar take on a different role (?) in the relationship when he’s in the poly route if that makes sense. But poly route or not the way the friendship between Omen and Alkar is portrayed is fantastic to me. They’re both so loveable. If you ever get curious I would say give it a try but if it doesn’t feel right to you don’t force it? There’s good lines in it but ultimately Alkar in a babe any way you romance him so…

Not doing the poly route first was the smartest thing you could have done IMO. Trying to go back and do the solo routes afterwards was agonizing… Like I’ve already had you together why do I have to have you separate? (For the CGs… they give me life). I fully intended to do Piper’s route first but Ezra’s first CG completely derailed me I couldn’t just not romance him to start. And then I got invested in my hunter’s backstory and stressed over how to do it and ended up with Finn so my first playthrough was just a complete fail all around. Enjoyable though!

The soft option to condem but lie is still hard for me. I don’t like them thinking I would betray everything we worked for! But it was done in such a compelling way. I know someday I’ll fully play the Pledge route but I just can’t. Poor August. Their route especially was so much pain. It’s so interesting to see what happens to your Hunter when you chose that route but the emotional toll is distressing.

I like that there’s a different feel to the poly route to start depending on who you initiated with. I personally for replays go with Ezra first but I just love going through the Lunar Festival with him is just such a nice, light break. And I love that you get to decide if you’re going to lead or let him lead – I don’t see that much in these kinds of games so that was super exciting!

(Finnzra owns my heart I’m so sorry I could go on about the two of them for years)

The mini-story is gold in my opinion. I laughed through it every time (and I replayed it for every route just to see). But Alkar is such a treat in it. Peak Alkar behavior. Do yourself a favor and experience him.

I made different characters for each route too – three hunters and I just headcanoned the fourth into a witch (since that isn’t an in-game option) just because I wanted to shake it up a little. I totally get where you’re coming from with not reusing characters because I’m the same way.

Please tell me about Greer!! Here or in a separate post!! Her and Brighid and all of them!! I love all Hunters equally – plus it’s so interesting to see the different ways people interpret the universe and cast. I just want all the content.

[galleywinter]

mrreindeerface replied to your post: I said before I’d be back. Now, I mean it. Despite…

WTNC is such a fantastic game you made a wonderful choice but also welcome to the spiral

OH LORD TELL ME ABOUT IT.

I’ve since played everyone’s monogamous routes and have initiated Ezra/Finn’s polymance but I don’t think I started properly as it didn’t feel as organic as I’d hoped (I started with Finn first and added Ezra; I think it would feel more natural going the other way). The only route I have no intentions of doing is the Alkar/Omen/MC polymance. Alkar and Omen just…don’t feel like a couple to me? They read more as an affectionate friendship for me. I just don’t see it. Also Alkar is with my Greer and they just work too well together

I also did a Disaster Hunter playthrough last night and holy shit it broke me

I love every LI in that game. They are all such wonderful amazing people full of depth. But Alkar is definitely my favorite.

Don’t encourage me to talk about Greer. Because I will. At far too much length.

And also the headcanons I’ve been building to try to explain some of the worldbuilding and whatnot. I have so much I could say. So. Much.

[mrreindeerface]

IT’S SUCH A FUN TIME

My first playthrough was a Finn/Ezra route and I also started with Finn but that’s because I couldn’t see them being confident enough to start anything more than just flirting with Ezra (he’s too pure for this world)

I get where you’re coming from on Omen/Alkar but the thing is when the game starts they are just affectionate friends? Their relationship won’t start unless the Hunter initiates it because they’re both too big of dorks to start it themselves. But they’re also wonderful alone and I don’t know if you’ve played the mini story that was released recently but Alkar is adorable in it I highly recommend if he’s ruining your life.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to do the Pledge route. The devs streamed it a few weeks ago on an August playthrough and that was the closest I got. As soon as I got a crying sprite I just ‘noped’ out of there it’s soul crushing.

They do have lore and such on their tumblr if you’re interested in the ‘official’ stuff @ / whenthenightcomesgame

Please give me all your headcanons and Greer thoughts I love hearing about people’s hunters it’s so much fun

[girff]

[shydogblue]

source?

[wizardhecker]

This is fake, its from an onion article. It took me about 2 seconds to google that, tumblr users are so gullible you’re willing to believe anything the internet tells you. Honestly I’m pretty sure Pennsylvania isn’t even a real place??

[mrreindeerface]

Late

Little ficlet for @anduinsholydick

He owns Bolvar and Luciana

Blizzard owns everything else

Love Is In The Air…

The holiday, not the feeling.

Anduin attempted to keep the smile on his face as yet another group of adventurers made their way into the throne room. Not that he wasn’t grateful for any gift his citizens wanted to give him, but his arms were only so long.

The bracelets ended up doing nothing but collect dust as it were: the servants had recently unburied five boxes of them from his father’s days on the throne. Anduin smiled genuinely at the thought of his father, scion of the ghost wolf, being hounded by admirers with handmade charm bracelets. Varian’s decision to spend the week leading up to the festival sequestered in a hunting cabin made a lot of sense. There had been at least a dozen people already that morning who had stopped by hoping to see the Highlord as well as the King who had left disappointed.

There was nothing to be done for their disappointment. Anduin wasn’t willing to subject his father to this, not after experiencing it for himself.

The slight scuffling noise in the hallway to his right broke the serene atmosphere of the throne room. Bolvar, nearly ten years old, charged into the room with a battle cry he clearly learned from his mother. His arms, wrist to shoulder, were completely covered in bracelets. Anduin caught him as he raced up the steps to the throne, laughing as he half-wrestled with his son.

“Someone’s popular,” the king remarked, while Bolvar continued to attempt to unseat him. Anduin may not have been a warrior like his wife, but he could at least manage to beat a nine year old.

“I have more than you,” Bolvar declared grandly. “That means I get to be king now!”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Anduin grinned, ignoring his son kicking at his legs. “I think that would be Alaric before you.”

Bolvar stopped his assault long enough to thrust a ripped piece of parchment in his father’s face. The neat lettering on it was Alaric’s.

Bolvar can be king.

“Usurped by my own son,” Anduin sighed dramatically, pulling himself to his feet with more effort than he really felt. “Very well then, I know when I’m not wanted.”

Bolvar clambered up onto the throne, delight on his face. “You can be my grandpa,” he said, waving to the side of the throne. “The, uh…”

“Highlord?” Anduin offered. Bolvar nodded. “If you insist, your majesty.”

At least three of the guards were laughing behind their helms, but it was a common thing. Strong personalities ran in the family.

Bolvar accepted all further gifts in his father’s stead, lording over the adventurers with an intensity that would get annoying after a few hours. Anduin leaned against the wall next to the throne, imitating the pose his father usually adopted when acting as an advisor. He wasn’t as scary, not physically intimidating, but at least there was someone there to rein Bolvar in.

Or at least attempt to.

[anduinsholydick]

tfw when a friend threatens to comment “Butt” on every chapter of your fic

[anduinsholydick]

this is a callout post @mrreindeerface

[anduinsholydick]

Callout

[anduinsholydick]

[anduinsholydick]

[mrreindeerface]

I’m not sorry

[mrreindeerface]

Me while reading: Noooo! My poor sweet babies! AUTHOR, WHY MUST YOU TORMENT YOUR CHARACTERS SO?

Me while writing: This character has been orphaned, whipped, sentenced to death, thrown overboard by pirates, captured by enemy soldiers, near-fatally poisoned, put on trial for his life before an angry mob, tortured in front of his best friend, and thrown into prison again.

Me while writing: ...

Me while writing: Let's stab him.

[mrreindeerface]

Tagged by @anduinsholydick

A question game I think? Onwards.

1: Favorite Game?

Of all time, World of Warcraft ‘cause I grew up in it. Dragon Age 2 is also up there.

2: What was the first Fanfic you ever read? The first you ever wrote? (if you write them) Can you still find it?

The first one I ever read was either a Maximum Ride fic or a Naruto fic but it was so long ago that memory is gone. The first one I ever wrote was a Kim Possible fic that lives on a floppy disk at my parents’ house, so it will hopefully never see the light of day. The first one I wrote and published was a shitty Kingdom Hearts fanfic that is now deleted from my fanfiction.net account.

3: What is one talent you wish you had?

The ability to actually write instead of just daydreaming my stories.

4: First movie you can remember seeing? How old were you?

Barbie’s The Nutcracker. I was under the age of 10 and I remember it vividly because it gave me horrific nightmares (I have no idea why).

5: Book you go back to re-read?

The only books I really re-read are the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs. I usually don’t re-read full novels. Fanfictions on the other hand…

6: The meme you just don’t get.

I don’t try to understand memes. I just accept them.

7: Do you have any Rare pair Ship(s)? What are they?

The only one I can think of is Hawke/Arishok but like have you seen him? How could you blame me? Most of my ships are my own characters so yay me?

8: Food/flavors you cannot stand?

Artificial grape flavoring and peas. Separately. Both make me ridiculously nauseous.

9: Dream job?

Trophy spouse. Or an author.

10: Do you RP? Who is your favorite OC?

Absolutely, I adore it. Favorite OC to RP with is either Ashay the Death Knight or Nyv the Lightbane.

11: Tell me about the thing you made/did/wrote/drew/watched/or read that you love and really wish people fan-flailed about but haven’t.

As much as I would love for people to fan-flail over my own work, it would probably help if I actually posted it somewhere. Oh well.

For tagging, I’ll go: @sds-mod @hoellenhund21 @mugimaki

[mrreindeerface]

Had to have a conversation with three different people last night about kinks because we had a daddy bring his princess shopping at like midnight and she kept wandering away from him so they were calling for each other through the store. Like she legitimately sounded like a child and the other customers were concerned there was a lost kid in the store.

Like if you’re both consenting adults that’s fine go nuts but if you want to do that in public you have to know people aren’t going to react well like don’t get mad at me because Susan came in for her prescription and got weirded out you were roleplaying in a drugstore at fuckall hour of the day.

[heathens-and-kings]

I’m gonna be blunt: you bring little worth to a friendship if you’re apathetic toward the good in your friends’ lives. If you shrug when they come to you with little things that they’re happy about, they will eventually stop coming to you with anything and you’ll wonder why that relationship feels stale. Practice genuine excitement with the people in your life. If you see a friend try to downplay how excited they are about something just be like “yoooo! This is a cool thing! You’re a lovely person and you deserve lovely things! I love you!“ 

I think it’s easy to be someone people complain to, but it’s just as if not more important to be someone they know they’re allowed to be excited and proud and happy around.

[mrreindeerface]

Take Care Of Him

Alternate Title: Someone Please Give Jarrad A Really Long Hug He Needs One Honestly He’s Just Trying His Best

Matias belongs to Krum

All other characters belong to me

The first time she hears about him, it’s a throwaway jab from Nico.

“Like you weren’t all over that brunette at the bar last night.” He’s grinning even though Jarrad’s just tossed him across the training room floor.

“What can I say?” Jarrad grins back, unrepentant. “I like them nerdy.”

“Ugh,” Alix groans from her spot against the wall, hands deftly swiping down the length of her sword as she polishes it.

Nico jackknifes to his feet and gives him a look. “Wooden glasses, really?”

“You my friend,” Jarrad points at him with a sly smirk, “have shit taste.”

“That explains how I got stuck with you,” Nico quips, and Jarrad’s indignant reply is interrupted by Nico tackling him to the ground.

“Stop letting your guard down!” Alix calls.

“You tell him Alix!” Nico laughs, at the same time Jarrad calls, “Oh fuck off will you?”

Alix looks over at her and winks, causing them both to grin. The brunette comment is filled away.

 Two months later and Jarrad’s dragging them out to the bar, rowdy and affectionate to the max. It’s Alix’s birthday and, as usual, none of their parents are around to celebrate. Averell tries not to flinch when Jarrad shoves himself between the two of them, arm slung around their shoulders as he gleefully declares it’s going to be “the best bloody birthday ever.”

Best for who is not clear, but it rarely is with him.

The bar is packed, as usual, and Nico leads the charge to get them to the bar, where Jarrad laughingly catches the bartender’s attention so he can order their drinks.

“Special for the birthday girl?” he grins, winking at Alix. “My best mate’s sister, and you know I’m such a good customer.”

“Try not to get into a fight this time and we’ll see,” the bartender replies wryly. “And happy birthday,” he tells Alix. She nods in thanks.

Averell and Alix take seats on the stools while Jarrad and Nico just lean against the bar. When Averell feels eyes on her she turns, glances across the room to the corner booth where a brunette with wooden glasses watches them with a guarded expression.

She nudges Jarrad. “Wooden glasses?” she questions, nodding towards the booth. The bartender sets their drinks down while Jarrad tries to figure out where she means.

“Your boytoy is in the corner,” Nico adds helpfully. “The writer, what was his name?”

“I don’t remember,” Jarrad replies, and Averell elbows him in the ribs. “Ow, hey, what was that for?”

“For not having the decency to remember the cute guy’s name,” she tells him.

“Shut up you useless lesbian.”

“She’s kicked your ass in spars every day this week man.” Nico shakes his head. “Never pick on someone who can beat you up.”

“I know your greatest weakness,” she warns him good-naturedly. “And I’m willing to use it against you.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Prove it.”

“Your di-“

Alix drains the rest of her Long Island Iced Tea in one shot and slams the glass down on the bar just hard enough to cover the rest of Averell’s indignant retort.

“Can we get a round of shots over here please?” she asks a bit desperately. “Before the children get into a slap fight in public?”

“Your girlfriend is abusing me!” Jarrad complains while Nico pats his sister on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Your existence is an abuse,” Averell mutters. The brunette in the corner gets up and walks out. Averell doesn’t watch him leave, but Jarrad certainly does.

 When the alarm sounds and the front door is broken down by a demon, Jarrad is nowhere to be found. They kill it, eventually, but Nico ends up in the infirmary and the Arabella is storming through the halls screaming furiously at everyone she sees about the fact that no one knows where Jarrad is.

When he does arrive, breathless and panting, having charged his way through half the city to get to them, Nico smiles up at him weakly from his gurney and says weakly, “My kill count is higher than yours now.”

Jarrad forces a laugh for his sake as he sinks down onto the floor. “Yeah, seems like it.”

The door flies open so hard she’s sure it dented the wall. Their mother storms in like a hurricane, Luciano Rovigatti following behind her with a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Arabella screams at him for at ­least ten minutes about being irresponsible and abandoning his duty, all while Jarrad remains stone faced, eyes somewhere near his feet. Nico looks indignant, but his father shoots him a lay there and be quiet look and Alix places a hand on his arm to ground him. Jarrad’s standing between Nico and his mother’s rage like a shield, as though she might hurt him given the chance. Averell doesn’t even try to intervene: it’s been three months since the last time Arabella even looked at her, let alone spoke to her.

Luciano interrupts eventually with a sharp cough and a pointed glare, causing Arabella to abruptly end her tirade.

“Where were you, exactly?” he asks, completely calm. “There were no missions posted at the time.”

“I was following up with a Sighted human,” Jarrad tells him, and Averell can see him visibly trying to keep his composure. “He’s a writer, uses what he sees about the Supernatural world in his books. I’m acting as somewhat of an informant, trying to keep him from putting anything too close to the truth out there.”

Arabella swells up like she wants to start ranting again, but Luciano holds up a hand to cut her off. “Have you told him what you are?”

“No sir, as far as he knows I’m just like him.”

“Make sure it stays that way.” Luciano nods once, as though they’d come to a decision. “For now, stay here with Nico.” He turns then, to Arabella, and chases her from the room with just his gaze.

When the door shuts, Nico reaches up, grabs Jarrad’s arm, and tugs gently. “Come on man, bed’s awfully lonely all by myself.”

“You’re horrible,” Jarrad tells him, but there’s no heat in his voice. Averell steps into him, wraps her arms around his waist and holds him. His free arm wraps around her shoulders and he presses a kiss against her hair. “You two should go and get some rest.”

Alix stands first, prying Averell off of her brother. “The two of you behave while we’re gone.” Her words are meant as a joke, but she doesn’t quite manage to hide the concern in her voice.

“I’m always a perfect gentleman,” Jarrad tells her, lowering himself down onto the edge of Nico’s bed.

“You’re a bloody fucking liar is what you are,” Nico mutters.

 It starts to become frequent, Jarrad vanishing at odd times of the day, staying out all night even when he doesn’t have a mission. He won’t say anything to her about it, not even about the sudden increase in their phone bill for excessive texting.

Reese smiles blithely at their mother’s fussing. I have people I want to talk to, get off my back for a minute would you?

Averell responds vaguely to their father’s concern. You know Jarrad, he’s always pushing himself. We’ve got his back there’s no need to worry.

Alix redirects the attention of the Conclave from report logs with a well-timed request for more equipment. With the increased level in supernatural activity, surely there’s room for, say, a few dozen more relics.

Nico covers with their parents, the rest of the Academy. Jarrad is singularly devoted to his duty as a Nightwalker, of course he’s doing what’s best for the Academy. We need to keep trust in our own.

Jarrad doesn’t thank them, not directly. But Reese gets a new gaming system, Alix gets a whole slew of clothes for her dolls, Averell wakes up to a set of concert tickets on her table, and when she goes down to the kitchen that morning, Jarrand and Nico are already there, laughing it up at the counter. It takes her a moment to realize they’re wearing pajamas with each other’s faces on them and she decides, wryly, that they are the only two who would find that kind of thing amusing, sober or otherwise.

Nico wears his for a week straight until Ines finally breaks down and demands he change before the ambassador from the Conclave arrives for inspection. He complains the entire time.

 She isn’t sure she’s ever going to find out his name.

Jarrad refers to him simply as “the writer” when it’s brought up. He doesn’t really talk to her about it, but that’s who he is. Never one to talk about his problems unless he’s forced into it.

Averell’s had enough of being forced into things for one lifetime, so she doesn’t push.

Alix tells her to talk to Nico. They’re lying in bed, her head on Alix’s shoulder while some inane romantic movie Reese recommended plays in the background. Alix knows it’s bothering her, but if there’s one thing she’s learned over the years, it’s that Caswell’s thrive off of bottling up their feelings and pretending they aren’t real.

Two weeks later, Jarrad is gone three nights in a row, and she finally gives up.

Nico is in the kitchen despite the early hour, looking for the world like he’s going to fall asleep on his omelet. There’s a slew of reports spread out around his plate but he isn’t paying them any mind. She takes a seat next to him and he pushes his plate of pancakes towards her.

“Is he happy?” she asks, because it’s a rare moment when Jarrad isn’t around to hear them. Nico doesn’t look up from his plate. He doesn’t need to.

“Yes,” he replies, with such certainty that it makes her heart ache to hear it. “Very happy.”

“Have you met?” Him, she almost adds, but bites her tongue. There are others in the kitchen and she knows all too well the consequences of secrets getting to the wrong people.

“A few times.” Nico either didn’t catch her near slip or didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. He reaches out and takes her hand without ever taking his eyes off his food. “They’re good together. It’s what he needs right now.”

“You’ll watch out for him, won’t you?” she asks, voice thick. Nico smiles wryly at his plate, withdraws his hand.

“You know he doesn’t like to be babysat.”

“But you will.”

“Of course I will.”

 His message said Meet me on the roof at eight. It’s five after eight and she regrets not bringing a jacket. Jarrad is still nowhere to be found.

She’s debating giving up and going back inside when the door finally opens and her brother steps outside. There’s a bruise darkening his cheek that tells her his meeting with their parents didn’t go very well. She frowns, but if a bruise is all he’s got to show for it then he fared better than she usually did.

“You cold?” he asks, and immediately shucks his jacket of to lay it across her shoulders. She draws it around herself, grateful, but watches him closely.

“Jarrad,” she starts slowly, because she knows getting him to open up is hard. “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” he says quietly, automatically. She sighs, and he finally sits down next to her. “You worry about me too much.”

“Someone has to,” she grumbles. “You spend so much time hiding yourself away, Jare, you forget you don’t have to hide from us.”

“It’s second nature, now.” His voice is soft and makes her heart ache. He lays his head on her shoulder. “It’s so much safer to hide.”

I know, she wants to say, but she knows if she does she’ll start to cry. She knows all too well what happens when their parents find out their secrets. The Caswell matriarch is not known for her accepting nature. But this isn’t supposed to be about her pain, it’s about his.

“Will… will you tell me about him?” she asks once she’s sure her voice won’t crack. She makes it his choice, it has to be his choice or he’ll pull away again.

The minutes stretch on between them in silence before he speaks.

“Matias,” Jarrad says finally. “The brunette from the bar. Wooden glasses. He’s a writer, has a hard time coping with what he sees through the glamour. Writes his books under a pseudonym for safety, it’s-“ He stops there, suddenly, and chuckles quietly after a moment. “You know I don’t actually know what name he publishes under.”

“He’s human,” she replies, but it comes out more like a question. She can feel his body go rigid next to her.

“That a problem?” His tone is mild but the tension is his body is far from it. She tries to school her expression into something more reasonable.

“Walkers don’t usually go with humans,” she tells him gently.

“Yeah, well, depending on who you ask, Walkers aren’t usually gay either so I’m sure it’ll all even out somewhere.” He huffs moodily. “I didn’t expect you to get it.”

“No, I don’t get it,” she tells him sharply, more that she meant to. “But it doesn’t matter whether I get it or not because you’re my brother and I’m going to support you regardless.”

He looks at her in shock, bitterness set in his brows and hope in his eyes.

“As long as you’re happy and not hurting anyone I don’t care who you fuck.” She pauses. “Or who fucks you, as it were.” Jarrad scoffs, but it sounds far less defensive than she expected. “Listen, you’re my big brother. Nothing is going to change that. If this Matias makes you happy then I’m happy for you.” She reaches over and turns his face towards her. “Listen, you supported me through all my bullshit, so I’m going to support you now too. If this is what you want then I’ll do anything to help you, even if it means punching Arabella in the face.”

Jarrad chuckles weakly. “Don’t punch her in the face please, she still gave birth to us.”

“I’ll do it,” Averell promises, but there’s laughter coloring her voice. “You know I will.”

“Yes, I do.” Jarrad pulls her close, tight in a hug. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “But Reese called dibs on ragging on you for being denser than a brick so I don’t want to steal her thunder.”

“You are all evil,” Jarrad complains, but he smiles when she stretches up to press a kiss onto his cheek. “Sisters are the worst.”

“Try having a brother.”

 When Arabella decides to send agents to tail Jarrad and make sure he’s not doing anything ‘suspicious’ Averell finally snaps.

She and Alix put in a request to get a master suite together, something that is typically reserved for married couples. Arabella makes a special trip out to scream at Averell for ruining their family name before promptly vanishing again. It’s three months before she contacts any of them again, and six before she finally returns to the Academy for the earthborne trial. She doesn’t even acknowledge Averell’s presence when she does, and they overhear her telling someone she only has two children.

Jarrad looks like he wants to say something, but Averell lays a hand on his arm. Let her be angry at me, she wants to tell him. Let her think you are her perfect son and that I am the only deviant. I can live with her disappointment, but you cannot. She doesn’t say it, but instead smiles at him reassuringly.

“Let her have her moment.” Her smile is forced, but it usually is. “She’ll be gone soon enough if we let her be.”

Within the week she leaves, and Dustin stays a few days just to check in on them.

“She’ll come around,” he tells Averell, but it’s a hollow sentiment. He’s been saying it since she found out, and it’s still not true.

“I know,” she replies, because she always does. It feels like a script, but it’s comfortable for them. He smiles at Jarrad, claps him on the shoulder.

“I couldn’t be prouder of you,” he tells him. “You’re everything I could dream of having in a son.”

“Take care of yourself,” Jarrad replies, and Averell has to fight down the urge to say take your own fucking advice you idiot.

 Reese is the one who finally talks him into it. When Matias opens his apartment door to find Jarrad surrounded by the three of them, she can’t decide who the night is going to be worse for.

“Sorry,” Jarrad tells him sheepishly. “I should have called ahead.”

“It’s fine,” Matias raises one eyebrow curiously. Averell is surprised it isn’t a lie. “I suppose it’s a good thing I have no idea how to correctly measure spaghetti portions. There should be enough for all of us.”

They introduce themselves while Jarrad heads straight for the kitchen. By the time Reese is done eying him suspiciously and Alix is satisfied the apartment is secure, Jarrad already has three glasses of wine set out on the table. There’s a beer at what she assumes is his spot, and he’s standing at the fridge with two cans of soda for Reese to choose from.

“I want wine,” she complains, having wrapped herself around Matias’ arm. He doesn’t seem all that concerned by it.

“You’re underage,” Jarrad replies, deadpan. “Pick a soda, squirt.” Reese tells him to go fuck himself in Swahili.

“Your apartment is lovely, Matias,” Alix cuts in. “Sorry for the children.”

“I’m used to it.” The two of them share a smile. “Please, relax, dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Reese makes most of the conversation that night, mostly because she’s been saving everything up for this moment. Jarrad tolerates it to a point, but eventually Alix drags Reese’s chair bodily down the table and puts herself between them. Averell, from her seat next to Matias, makes eye contact with her and grins.

Matias inquires politely why Nico didn’t come and she gestures to the table at large. “He’s the smart one,” she informs him dryly, and he opens his mouth in a silent ‘ah.’

Alix tries to catch him in conversation about his writing while Averell watches Jarrad not-so-subtly reach under the table to hold his hand. Matias is torn between the discussion with Alix and Reese’s constant interjections of but when are you getting married and I bet I’ve seen him naked more than you have.

“I certainly draw from experience when writing,” he tells Alix temperately. “I mean, I can only really observe so much, so there’s some artistic license, but life tends to inspire all art to a degree.”

“So you write about Jare?” Reese jumps in suddenly, wicked grin on her face. “Do you write dirty things about him?”

“I-“ Matias blinks dumbly.

“Reese…” Jarrad says warningly. “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

“Maybe if you learned to hide your hickeys better,” Alix mutters into her wine, and Jarrad groans at her.

“Don’t take her side!”

“Then stop complaining about how much your ass hurts during training.” She rolls her eyes. “I know you’re the one starting it anyway.”

“Occasionally,” Matias interrupts before Jarrad can reply. “I, ah, write a separate series occasionally. Rarely.” He amends.

Reese inhales suddenly as though the universe has given her a gift. “I knew it. You’re Benjamin Dover. The porn writer.” Jarrad’s face remains remarkably immobile, while Matias looks an interesting mix of embarrassed and horrified. A slow, smug look of realization overtakes her face. “Jarrad is the inspiration for the ‘January Angel’ series?” She turns to Jarrad in slight awe. “You’re a bottom?”

Alix chokes on her wine. Averell has the sudden, nauseating thought of why does Reese read those books. Jarrad somehow manages to stay straight-faced, while Matias just covers his face with his hands. Reese looks over at Averell as though she’s expecting some kind of backup.

“Well,” she manages finally, after a few long moments of processing. “At least you’re a power bottom, eh?”

Jarrad gets to his feet abruptly, pulling out his vape and walking from the room. Reese begins giggling maniacally, nearly toppling out of her chair in the process. Matias groans into his palms and Alix sighs, shooting Averell long-suffering smile while she helps right Reese in her chair.

“Hang on, I got like fifty jokes I need to tell him.” Reese nearly knocks her chair over in her haste to chase their brother down. “Jare, come back, we need to talk about your sex life!”

“For fuck’s sa- Reese!” Alix pushes herself out of her chair and heads after her. “Stop trying to get your brother to talk about his dick, it’s not that interesting trust me!”

In the silence that follows their departure, Matias stands and begins collecting dishes, carrying them off to the sink without a word. It strikes Averell, suddenly, all the reasons why he chose Matias. She follows him and begins helping. The silence between them feels comfortable, at least to her.

She can hear Jarrad arguing with Reese outside, and the distinct lack of Alix’s more level voice means she’s either staying out of the argument or they’ve thrown her over the edge. Both are incredibly likely.

When she feels composed enough she speaks.

“Thank you.” His head snaps sideways.

“For?” He seems almost nervous.

“For making him happy,” she replies. “For giving him something to smile about. For taking care of him when he thinks he needs to take care of everyone else.”

“I-“ he pauses, turns back to the dishes in the sink, and takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Of course I do.” Her tone is entirely flippant. “If you break his heart I will rip out your spine.” Matias chokes on air and Averell turns to flash him a blinding smile. “Something tells me I don’t really need to worry about that with you, though.”

“I sure hope not,” he mutters, picking up his glass to drink the rest of his wine. “That sounds uncomfortable.”

The two of them are still laughing when Jarrad returns, Reese slung over one shoulder wailing like an angry cat. Alix is trailing behind them drinking straight from the wine bottle. Averell hadn’t even seen her grab it when she went after them. Jarrad looks at the two giggling by the counter with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” He raises an eyebrow. Matias gives him a thumbs up, still doubled over trying to catch his breath.

“We’re doing just fine.”

[mrreindeerface]

Porn For Krum

Obviously NSFW (I think)

Jarrad belongs to me

Matias belongs to Krum

The knock on his door came not even ten minutes after the warning text. Which was fine, really, he hadn’t anticipated he would have long to wait. The no nonsense message hadn’t told him much, but after months of a mostly long-distance relationship intent was easy to read.

               I’ll be over soon. Dinner?

Dinner with Jarrad was always a bit of a tossup: sometimes there was delicious food, sometimes he felt like he was dinner. It didn’t help that Jarrad had nearly perfected the sultry predator eyes and smirk that had given Matias enough material for an entire serial of what was essentially porn.

Straight up porn that he knew wasn’t unrealistic because he had lived it, far more intensely than he had ever expected.

Jarrad was waiting somewhat patiently for him to open the door. He had a small duffle slung over one shoulder, head turned so he could watch down the hall. Always vigilant, that one. Silent but deadly. The perfect predator and dedicated protector.

When their eyes met, Matias felt his breath hitch. There was a dark shadow in his eyes that always lent itself to trouble. Had something happened at the Academy? He doubted Jarrad would tell him if it had. Not out of malice, mostly. Something about keeping Matias safe.

Jarrad had a bit of a martyr complex, but he would never admit it.

Matias locked the door behind him, watching out of the corner of his eye as he set his bag down next to the couch, shucked his jacket off and laid it across the back of an armchair. Comfortable, as though he was in his own home. He always had a knack for fitting in wherever he went. For a few moments it was just that, the silence settling around them comfortably while Jarrad gathered himself, while Matias watched him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

When Jarrad stepped into his personal space Matias welcomed him, winding his arms around his waist while Jarrad kissed him, hands mapping across his body. Matias relaxed into the gentle kisses, ignoring the hands that indecently roamed his skin, under his clothes. It wasn’t meant to be sexual, surprisingly, but merely a way for Jarrad to make sure he was okay, that he wasn’t hurt.

Neither of them had spoken, but he didn’t mind. They’d have time for that eventually. For now he relished in the closeness of the person who had occupied his thoughts for so long, dragging his own hands up to cup his head as he deepened the kiss, dragging Jarrad away from his original purpose back into the moment. It was hard to keep up with someone who lived three steps ahead of the rest of the world, but with time keeping up with him became second nature.

Jarrad, bless him, was never one to turn down an invitation like that.

It wasn’t until the chiming of the oven timer cut through the fog that had rolled across his mind that Matias remembered dinner and if I don’t turn that off my apartment will burn down. Even though he had started it he was the one who pulled away first, leaving Jarrad pressed against the armchair and panting. His hair was longer, shaggier, and Matias’ hands had done it no favors.

“Dinner?” he managed, noting with some small amount of pride that Jarrad was having a much harder time than he was keeping hips from rolling back up against him.

“Dinner?” Jarrad repeated, voice colored with slight incredulity as though Matias had suggested they stop and kill a hydra. Voice laced with desire. How much he wanted a pleasure more carnal, but always so agreeable, willing to wait and satisfy the needs of his partner.

“Your text said dinner,” Matias reminded him gently, even as Jarrad’s hands tangled in his sweater and pulled him closer again.

“Dinner can wait,” Jarrad growled, eyes just short of begging Matias to abandon his steaks to their fate.

“I already started the steaks,” Matias told him laughingly, easily detangling the hands grasping at him before they stretched out the cashmere. “We’ve got all night.”

Jarrad sighed theatrically as Matias turned away, leaving him in the main room while he headed to the kitchen. He would take a moment, get himself under control before returning. That was part of his charm, no matter how far he strayed he always returned. He fussed with the timer, pulled the steaks out from under the broiler and set about finishing the marinade he had been making when Jarrad had arrived.

After a few minutes of working Jarrad joined him, having divested himself of his shoes and rolled his sleeves up. After a sharp look he washed his hands and set about cutting the vegetables Matias had lined up on the cutting board.

A glance to the side showed his forearms covered in what appeared to be a fine gold shimmer, almost like glitter. A glamour, meant to conceal the tattoos on his skin. Matias fought down the hurt that Jarrad felt it necessary to keep his glamour up around him. They both had their secrets, and he didn’t want to make the other man uncomfortable. Jarrad wasn’t shy about speaking his mind, if he had something to say he would.

For someone who spent most of his time elsewhere, Jarrad was surprisingly comfortable in Matias’ kitchen. They were quiet while they cooked, occasionally murmuring quiet requests to move or pass various utensils around. It was domestic almost, and for a brief moment I allowed myself to imagine a future with the beautiful man next to me. It was more than I deserved, but I craved it all the same. Matias was quiet by nature, always wrapped up in his thoughts. Jarrad was usually followed by a cacophony of noise, but he was a man who knew how to appreciate silence when he had the chance.

Matias wanted to ask what was bothering him, what had gone wrong that had set him off in such a funk, but he forced himself to bite his tongue. Supernatural affairs were hardly the place for over-inquisitive humans, he knew, no matter how pure his intentions.

They sat next to each other at Matias’ small table, rather than across from each other. Jarrad had one leg hooked around the bottom of Matias’ chair, and when Matias wanted his attention he could poke that leg with his foot, earning him one of the famous heart stopping smirk-and-eyebrow-raise combos that had become a staple in his writing.

Jarrad was in the middle of pouring himself another drink powerful, graceful, strength tempered in a display of restraint for me, only for me when Matias finally gave into his curiosity.

“You still have your glamour up,” he commented lightly, keeping his eyes on his steak as he gingerly cut another piece off.

“I do.” Jarrad didn’t look away from his glass. “Does it bother you?” Matias shrugged.

“Just curious.”

“I can drop it if it bothers you.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable being vulnerable around you?” Jarrad asked as though that were a completely reasonable thing to say to someone out of the blue. He was like that now, easily sharing his emotions with me, either to draw me out or because he couldn’t contain them, I wasn’t sure which. “I have no reason not to trust you.”

“I-” Matias watched in slight shock while the gold across Jarrad’s skin shifted, forming itself into the tattoos. “Well then.” Jarrad was grinning at him, unrepentant.

“And so the mighty writer is laid low by the simple barbarian,” he mused before taking a sip from his glass. “How the tables have turned.”

“Fuck you,” Matias muttered into his plate.

“I was trying man, but you wanted dinner.” Jarrad had the audacity to laugh when he hit him. As much as he loved the sound of that laugh, Matias filed the whole thing away. There would be payback for it, eventually. A joke. The tension in my gut eased. I had no reason to suspect him. He stood for security, safety, and I knew he would give that to me.

Jarrad finished before him and stepped out onto the fire escape to smoke while Matias finished and dumped the dishes in the sink, figuring he could probably get some of them clean before Jarrad came back in.

He got three dishes in before Jarrad slid back into his apartment, the last few wisps of smoke curling out of his mouth. Full lips, very kissable. For a moment he stood there, drinking in the sights, before strolling all too casually over to slide between Matias and the sink. Their eyes locked, never breaking contact as he determinedly lowered himself to his knees. Matias swallowed thickly.

“What are you doing?” he managed to ask, damp hand automatically tangling in the hair that was now somewhere near his waist. Jarrad had his hands hooked in the waistband of his jeans as he stared up at Matias with a hungry expression on his face. Like a man starved, and we’d only just finished dinner.

“The internet very kindly informed me that if a man is nice enough to do the dishes for you, you should reward him.” Jarrad’s hands slid lower, deftly undoing his belt and tugging his pants open.

“That comic is misogynistic bullshit,” Matias commented, feeling a little lightheaded as Jarrad trailed his tongue up the outside of his underwear. “Fuck Jare.”

“What a filthy mouth you have,” Jarrad murmured almost thoughtfully, hands moving up to grip Matias’ hips almost too tightly. “We should do something about that.”

Another day, any other day really, he wouldn’t have minded. But he didn’t want that, not now, not when it was the first time they’d been together in months.

“Get up here,” Matias growled and Jarrad, ever obedient always so obedient for me, only taking orders from me rose to his feet, giving Matias the perfect opportunity to pin him to the counter and ravage those lips with his own. He tasted like raspberries and mint, his favorite combination of flavors to vape. Matias had never really cared for either, but they were quickly becoming something of a favorite.

They moved away from the sink after Matias pushed too hard and Jarrad knocked over a perfectly stacked pile of pans. The table was clear and the only vaguely horizontal surface in the kitchen that was safe. Somehow, Matias figured Jarrad wouldn’t care regardless of where they ended up, if the desperate tugging on his pants was any indication.

“Would you slow down?” Matias gasped, alternating between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.

“There’s always something,” Jarrad mumbled against his mouth, hands pulling at his hips. “Here I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” Matias replied, giving up the battle and covering Jarrad’s mouth with his hand. It didn’t work: he just drew his fingers into his mouth and sucked, causing Matias to let out an embarrassing half-mewl. “I don’t keep lube in my kitchen, however.” Jarrad nipped his fingers before pulling back.

“Are you worried about little old me?” he asked with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Matias groaned.

“Getting mixed signals.” And with that he pulled him forward again, lifting him up and over his shoulder as though Matias were ten pounds and not half a foot taller.

It wasn’t until Jarrad had tossed him onto the bed and crawled on top of him that Matias belatedly realized his shirt was gone, revealing the wide expanse of ridiculously toned muscled specimen that was his boyfriend.

An Adonis indeed.

Matias let him have his way, straddling his waist as he bent down to seal their lips together in a kiss once more. Jarrad’s hands were braced on the bed so Matias had free rein to explore. Taut muscle, rippling under the skin in barely controlled tension, desire rolling off of him in delicious waves as-

“Stop,” Jarrad snarled, grabbing his hands and pinning them to the bed. “Stop thinking about how you’re going to describe fucking me later in your smutty self-insert fanfiction and actually fuck me.”

“Smutty?” Matias gasped out, half-amused, half-offended. Jarrad ignored him and dragged his shirt off, knocking his glasses askew. By the time he had fixed them Jarrad had somehow gotten out of his pants and dug both the bottle of lube and a packet of condoms.

Matias propped himself up on his elbows, watching in slight fascination as Jarrad trailed his lips down his body, teeth nipping at his navel while his hands made quick work getting his pants the rest of the way off. His boxers didn’t last long after, but at least Jarrad had the good sense not to tear them off him. Again.

Matias gripped his shoulders briefly, trailing his hands down his back until he could push Jarrad’s underwear off, or at least get his intention across. While he sat up long enough to get undressed Matias reached for the lube, liberally covering his fingers before Jarrad sprawled across him once more.

It wasn’t his favorite thing to do without being able to see, but Jarrad kept up a steady stream of encouraging moans and oh God right there so he knew he was at least on the right track. His hips rocked back to meet Matias’ fingers until he got impatient and pushed the hand away, tearing open one of the condoms as he teased Matias’ cock with light touches that had him groaning in complaint.

Once the condom was on, Matias barely had a moment to breathe before Jarrad raised up on his knees and eased down, head tossed back at the stretch while Matias’ hands sought his hips, anything to try and anchor himself to reality.

Fuck why was he always so tight.

Once their hips connected, once Jarrad was all the way down he let out a long, absolutely filthy groan that made Matias’ head spin. When Matias rocked his hips, testing, he whimpered, and fuck if it wasn’t everything he had been missing since the last time they saw each other.

Slowly, like he wasn’t sure he could control himself, Jarrad rose up and back down, riding Matias at a pace that he usually reserved for the second (or third) round. Matias kept his hands where they were, using them to help guide him as Jarrad’s head lolled to the side, lower lip caught in his teeth as he stared back with a mix of desperation and unfettered desire.

One hand drifted from his hips, across his pelvis to tease along his balls, lighting dragging his nails along the underside of his shaft. Jarrad gasped, his entire body tensing as his legs gave out and he went down faster than he anticipated, causing Matias to groan at the sudden clenching heat.

“Fuck, Jare.” His head fell back weakly against the pillows. Jarrad let out a breathy chuckle.

“You deserved that,” he managed, leaning forward to catch Matias’ mouth in a short kiss and changing their position, causing him to go deeper and-

Matias’ hips surged up, Jarrad groaned and he couldn’t stop the pleased grin from spreading across his face when he caught the other brunette off guard.

Jarrad didn’t take kindly to the smirk. With seemingly barely effort he pushed himself up, off of Matias completely, before rolling them both over, leaving Matias slightly breathless and now braced on his hands and knees above the prone form of his overly horny and slightly ticked off boyfriend.

“Are you going to fuck me properly now?” he asked, hooking one leg up around Matias’ hips and pulling him down. “Or do you need more incentive?”

“You’re so needy.” Matias leaned down to catch him in a kiss, which Jarrad turned into a battle while he adjusted to their new position and slid back inside.

He was lucky Jarrad was so flexible, because it let him push deeper and set a pace that he knew would leave the other absolutely breathless. He only needed one arm to keep himself steady so the other he used to grip Jarrad’s cock firmly, sliding along it with slow, even strokes.

He could tell, from the increased pitch of his moans and the frantic jerking of his hips that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He himself wasn’t close enough, not yet, not with how much he had been holding back, but he didn’t mind. In this sense, he had always been a bit more disciplined. The thought of that made him smile. Matias adjusted their position, leaned down so he could nibble along the shell of Jarrad’s ear.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he purred, moving to trail his tongue along the stubble on his jaw. Jarrad’s eyes were screwed shut, hands gripping the sheets tightly. His head was thrown back, hair is disarray, and it left the sensitive skin of his throat completely unprotected against Matias’ teeth. Jarrad let out some inarticulate sound that might have been intended to be a yes, but Matias nipping at his neck had him shuttering.

Matias increased the pace of his hand, alternating his grip between tight and loose as he changed the angle of his thrusts. Jarrad’s hands moved, one tangling in his hair and the other in the pillow under his head as he moaned.

“I would say that’s a yes.” Matias couldn’t keep from being smug as the beautiful, beautiful man underneath him came apart completely in his hands. He eased off his grip, going down, up, and down once more, the last time wrapping his fingers securely around the base of Jarrad’s cock and gripping tightly, stealing his orgasm.

Jarrad’s reaction was almost instant; his hips spasms upwards, his entire body clenched, he let out a cry that was half desperate keen half fury.

“Ah ah ah,” Matias told him, keeping him mostly pinned to the bed as he continued his thrusting. “It’s still the first round, wouldn’t want you to end too soon, would we?”

“Fuck you,” Jarrad spat, hips caught between rolling up into the heat of Matias’ hand or down around the stretch of his cock. He opened one eye, the dark brown burning through him like a wildfire.

“Maybe when you’re older,” Matias murmured, nuzzling against his hair as he whimpered again, clearly too close to the edge to care about whatever sounds he made. His eyes closed again, hands gripping at the bed, and Matias decided that was sufficient enough punishment.

He gave himself over to the feeling of Jarrad stretched around him, his moans ringing in his ears until it was all he could hear. It wasn’t much longer until he released, riding out the waves of his orgasm as Jarrad’s hips snapped up to meet his frantically, desperate for his own release.

Panting, he loosened his grip, swallowing Jarrad’s moans with a burning kiss as he let him come, streaking both of their chests as Matias helped him ride out the last waves of pleasure.

For minutes they relaxed there, Matias gingerly pulling out of Jarrad and rolling to the side. Jarrad didn’t open his eyes, still panting from the intensity of it all, and once he felt like he could stand without falling down, Matias got up and headed for the bathroom, tossing the used condom in the trash and cleaning himself up. He wet another washcloth and took it back to Jarrad, who looked like he hadn’t moved an inch.

Matias would have been content to clean him up himself, but Jarrad swatted him away and did it instead, eventually getting up and heading to the bathroom himself. Matias cleared off the bed in the meantime, knocking everything to the floor to be cleaned up later and pulling the blankets back in case they decided to actually sleep that night.

It was rare, but it happened.

By the time Jarrad came back into the bedroom Matias had already burrowed down in the blankets, his glasses set somewhere on the bedside table. Jarrad dropped down on the bed next to him and, after a bit of wordless tugging, eventually slid under the blankets as well, allowing Matias to curl up against his side.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“’S not the first time we’ve gotten impatient,” Jarrad replied, unconcerned, as he kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I like it rough sometimes,” he said with a smirk, making Matias roll his eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.” He closed his eyes and let himself relax.

“What would you prefer?” Jarrad asked, a teasing edge to his voice. “That I feed you chocolate covered strawberries as you recline on a fainting couch draped in silks while some being fanned by a manservant with a palm leaf?”

“That would be amazing actually,” Matias told him. “Could you get started on that for me?”

“Maybe when you’re older.”

[mrreindeerface]

send help