You need to get work done but they want your attention, and one way or another, they will get it :3
Not proofread, and not very cohesive between characters. Tried to keep it Canon. May or may not have succeeded.
Sam
"No, babe, a new season just started I have to get going on my crops!"
• Would definitely pout and try and hold your hand to prevent you from leaving the house
• As you got out your money and some leftover seeds from last year, he would (not so sneakily) get out his guitar
• He would then start playing a brand new song for you
• Like. Has been saving it for something, and it wasn't quite done, but he just had to get you to stay!
• Then when you tried asking him about it, he would say "no, I'm sorry, I have to work on this song more!"
• Basically mocking you from earlier saying you had to work haha
• This would successfully get you for like an hour, it makes him happy.
Alex
You were bustling around town, and he wanted you to talk to him, even if just for a bit!
• As soon as he saw you enter town he started lifting weights.
• And the more he saw you enter and leave buildings he started using heavier ones, trying to get you to think he is soooooo impressive.
• Eventually when you come to his house BUT DONT TALK TO HIM (how dare you/j) he does that jock boy thing where he wipes his sweat with his shirt
• A cocky bastard (affectionate) who just wants to see you flustered and pause for a second to admire him.
• Yeah. That definitely distracts you as you leave.
(God he is such a dude bro (affectionate-))
Sebastian
You were busy doing work around the farm, and he wanted attention but didn't want to outwardly bother your day.
• Ngl he would either work on his motorcycle purely because he knows you think it's hot, or he would play his synthesizer.
• Depends on how confident he is feeling that day, but he knows both of those need to be done eventually anyways!
• He rarely practices his synth, and knows it fascinates you.
• It's just so cool he knows how to play it!!
• If he works on his motorcycle, you just watch because you are trying to figure out what he is doing
• You want to be able to actually know what he is talking about when he tells you about it later!
• Either way, he knows he grabbed your attention for a little bit, and that's enough for him
• Definitely would not be up in your face about it tho, he is very low key about like. Everything-
Harvey
• Wouldn't try to distract you from your farming or anything
• Knows how important your job is
• Would however distract you from menial activities like reading or watching TV if you haven't given him enough attention that day
• Would start cooking
• Like something he knows you really like, but also smells so it would get your attention
• Also plays music. Like some early 2000s girly pop music. He loves that stuff but doesn't play it often because he thinks it's embarrassing he likes it (it isn't I love that shit)
• But yeah that grabs your attention from whatever you were doing
Shane
• Starts bringing the chickens outside of the coup!
• Knows you think they are cute
• And he knows you think he is cute when he is taking care of the animals
• Plus it's also practical for him to do animal stuff so you can farm
• But yeah he doesn't really want a lot of attention, just wants to see you smile for a bit!
Elliott
He just wanted to see your face stick around for a little longer! Didn't want you to go, even when he knew you had work to do.
• Would play his piano!
• Works like a charm because he always has something new
• You wonder when he has the time to practice new pieces all the time
• You sit next to him for a bit, leaning on his shoulder
• After he finishes the song, he let's you go back to whatever you were doing.
• He got in enough time with you for now, but he would make sure to get all of your attention later
An* I had like no ideas for Harvey and Shane. Sorry if they are kinda clunky- This was mostly inspired by my ideas for Sam and Alex, but this was fun to write!! Also, these lowkey make no sense, and they weren't proofread, so just take the concepts loosely and run with it! :)
Rasmodius, aka The Wizard (by request)
I imagine that this would be when you stopped by to visit him but had to leave to go work. Like y'all weren't living together.
• Would use magic!
• A silent spell that makes little illusions around the room.
• He is a little shy, so like Sebastian or Harvey, he wouldn't outright say anything.
• But he makes everything so pretty you can't help but stare for a while.
• The lights danced near the ceiling, a mirage of all your favorite colors
• He gets your attention for a while, and it keeps him content until he sees you again :3
Many of us view Mr. Qi as the one who sits on the highest of stardew food chain, and he canonically is. That's why, as far as I know, there is little to no love rivalry in his fanfics. And I mean the rival that befits to compete with this man. The one he can't easily get rid out. The one that will make you, the farmer, hesitant with your heart decision.
Um...maybe two? Anyway.
First, you need to view Stardew Valley as its own universe, not a game. Every characters are not npc, and their capabilities are beyond what is programmed of them. If you don't look at it this way, no one stands a chance against blue man because he's the end game.
1. Rasmodius: Obviously. He's a wizard. I think he's also older than Mr. Qi, if not the same age. Their prowess are either equal or slightly differ depends on your hc about these two. But the power difference won't be too big. Their differences lie in ambition. Mr. Qi has more of it, while Rasmodius looks like he wants nothing to do with worldly matters. However, I believe that this wizard can flip the whole world just for you, if he chooses to.
2. Sebastian: He is the only canon marriage candidate that stands a chance against the blue man. If you're the emo boy enjoyers, you know he has so much potential. Some speculates that he is part-shadow people, part-human since he gives you goods from the mines like it's something so easy to find, while in fact you need to go deep to obtain it. And he is strong if he can go that deep, regardless of his blood origin.
He also has wits about him. Imagine Alex going into the mines. He has the strength to take him there, but I doubt he'd figure out each monster as quick as Seb could. Those dnd campaigns aren't entirely childish and useless after all. Sebastian is no stranger to magic and darkness. He might even thrive in that kind of environment.
Next is his personality and mentality. Sebastian is stubborn. I don't think he will back down just because someone threatens him. This man is already angry with his stepdad, so might as well have a beef with another older man. Sadly, this is also a disadvantage. If Seb is not aware or unable to control himself, the family conflict and inner turmoil can be played against him.
To bring this to the next level, what if Seb could eat stardrops and forge weapon like we could? He would be unstoppable. Imagine him getting that galaxy weapon set and a permanant luck increase. Seb could even be a better fighter than us. I can literally see him reaching level 100 in Skull Cavern. On another perspective, he is like a younger Qi, only lacks strong goal and ambition.
And most importantly, this man has the advantage that Mr. Qi doesn't. Sebastian is someone your age. I know some of you prefer older men, but hear me out. Sebastian has the youth and a life that is not yet spent. This is like a blank canva that allows you and him to paint it together, to build a life you two dream of. Mr. Qi, on the other hand, leaves very little space for you to paint anything more.
Not to mention that you two belong to the same world. Rasmodius and Mr. Qi dwell in the hidden part of the society, but Seb lives on the surface just like you. Marrying Seb also makes your life less complicate (although the matter of the heart rarely concerns with practicality).
That's why I think Seb will make a good love rival. He has every traits a good fighter and strategist need, if allowed to develop beyond the role of npc. Although Qi has the allure of mystery and the larger-than-life charm, Sebatian has youth, potential, and sense of fimiliarity.
.
Sometimes I think to myself: Would Mr. Qi be insecure because Seb is younger, that he's someone your age, and belong to your world?
It's hard to imagine such powerful man feeling insecure. He might, or he might not. No one knows.
In the end, it's entirely up to what you prefer and enjoy. Whoever you choose wins the game of love.
summary: Rasmodius is in dire need of his magic ink and requested the farmer to retrive some from his bannished ex-spouse. But before they even go into the cave, Rasmodius takes a trip down memory lane.
cw: brief mentions of seperation, angst, friends to lovers, lovers to enemies, spoilers for Dark Talisman quest
author's note: first post, yay! crazy that this is how i'm starting my blog out, but at the same time someone had to give the wizard justice after the new bachelor announcement. hope you guys enjoy the first part of this (mini) multipart series 🫶 (part 1 of ??)
Rasmodius stood outside the cave by the train tracks. He stared at the house on its stilt-like legs, claws rooted in the dirt. Within the box, Rasmodias heard the odd-clicking sound of the mechanism furiously working. For years, it sealed the entrance to that dreaded cave, working restlessly without end. Now, Rasmodius was dismantling everything he had worked so hard for. All for some magic ink.
The farmer joined him. Although Rasmodius had briefly explained the situation—all of the magic ink-related bits of course—his mind was still elsewhere.
"Have I ever told you I used to be married?" he asked.
Truthfully, he knew the answer already. Rasmodius was, naturally, a quiet person. Combined with his few excursions from the tower over the years and the fact that the people of Pelican Town still exclusively referred to him as the "Wizard," Rasmodias kept to himself even more. It would be quite shocking if any of the residents even remembered he was married. Well, all but one.
He continued, "Strange, I know, for a man like me. But it's true. My spouse and I were together for many years, until... until I made a mistake that drove them away."
Rasmodias saw a flash of concern on the farmer's face, but the wizard only bristled and turned away. Away from the seal that had trapped his ex-spouse all these years, in the name of "protecting" the valley.
Away from his present, and into his past.
They met in school.
Rasmodias was part of a new wave of elemental wizards, dutifully taking apart previous schools of thought in magic and constructing them into something entirely novel. He was thought of as a revolutionary. Though more often than not, his nose was bound to be buried in some ancient text as he continued his studies. During exam week, he would practically camp in the library, stocking up on water and snacks only when he deemed necessary.
Of course, the only thing that could pull him away from those dusty books was you.
You. Stunning, brilliant, and so incredibly astonishing you. You, who was one of the many students of the school of illusion. Who was just as studious as you were kind and wonderful.
Your name alone would whip Rasmodias' head up and straighten his posture, much to his distaste as his friend continued to tease him. But could anyone blame him? To Rasmodias, you were the very thing that grounded him back to reality.
Fortunately, the two of you grew closer and closer before graduation. Going from peers, to classmates, then friends, and finally into a pair of lovestruck twenty-somethings who were attached at the hip. Rasmodias presented a mermaid pendant to you on your graduation night, and the rest of your lives soon unfolded.
Moving to Pelican Town to pursue a new lead in Rasmodias' research. Building a small cottage together by the river, painting your cozy home in the blazing summer heat. Getting to know some of the locals, including the farmer north of your home, who welcomed the two of you newcomers with open arms. Gradually, you would venture into town and find a job as a server at the local saloon. You always told Rasmodias you did the job because you liked it, even if it wasn't what you had studied for.
And you would come home telling Rasmodias all about the gossip of Pelican Town. The "who likes who," "he said, she said," and all the other small, rural town gossip that you could get your hands on. Rasmodias would never admit it, but he was just as interested in it, too.
The two of you would lie in bed, his hand carefully tracing patterns into your back as you recounted your day. Sometimes he would murmur or hum in response to you, as he was, admittedly, very tired and more concentrated on the patterns he wrote on you. It would be years before you realized he was writing "I love you" over and over in elemental. By then, though, it had been too late.
Where did it all go wrong? he thought.
Unbeknownst to him, you were slumped against your wall in that blasted hut you now called home, thinking the same thing.
reader's gender is unspecified and race is ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.
summary:
The farmer doesn’t see the wizard, Rasmodius, as a viable option for romance. Rasmodius is fine with that. Really, he is.
word count: 2.3k | ao3 version
Rasmodius doesn’t quite care about Pelican Town, nor does he have any strong feelings for Stardew Valley. He isn’t the same as the mortals who inhabit the quaint town, and that is painfully apparent within the first few moments of his relocation. They are suspicious of him—cautious at best and entirely avoidant or fearful at worst. Rasmodius wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in himself to care what a few flimsy mortals think of him. He is different from them, after all. And humans have always feared what they can’t understand.
A farmer comes by at some point. Rasmodius doesn’t know how long it’s been since he first moved to the tower—time is hard for him. All he knows is that the man takes one look at him and promptly runs away. Rasmodius doesn’t see him again. He forgets after what must be only a few minutes.
The wizard doesn’t remember this interaction until he is struck with an intense déjà vu years later. There’s another farmer standing on his doorstep. You look different than the other one, but there’s a determined look in your eyes that reminds Rasmodius of the man who came before you. The wizard can’t help but be skeptical.
“What do you want?” he asks, half-expecting you to take one look at him and run in the opposite direction.
“I just wanted to introduce myself,” you respond, before doing just that. You offer a hand for him to shake and Rasmodius stares at it for several moments. It takes him a moment to remember the mortal custom, and another to remember to extend his hand and shake yours. “You may have met my grandfather. I’m taking over his farm now.”
“Ah,” the wizard responds, feeling somewhat at a loss for words. Rasmodius finds himself waiting for you to leave. You don’t seem intent to do so, and are instead surveying his home with interest. He wants to scold you for snooping, but you just seem curious. Admittedly, the curiosity is a welcome difference from the typical skepticism or unfounded fear that the other villagers show him. Perhaps that is why he finds himself entertaining the conversation. “You have your work cut out for you.” He can see your farm from the top of his tower, and the last time he looked, it was filled with weeds, rocks, and fallen branches. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up required for you to make the farm even somewhat usable.
“Yeah, definitely,” you say with a heavy sigh. You seem overwhelmed at the reminder of just how much work you’re going to have to do, and Rasmodius is suddenly filled with the inexplicable and foreign urge to comfort you. He manages to suppress it. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. It was nice to meet you. See you later.”
“Goodbye,” Rasmodius finds himself answering. Indeed, it will most likely be goodbye. He doesn’t expect to see you again. By now, he’s caught onto the typical pattern. Villagers who try to speak to him will only stop by a few times, before abandoning him altogether. He’s used to it, and he certainly doesn’t find himself relying on any of them. Even so, it’s… disappointing. Is he really so off-putting?
Rasmodius shakes it off. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important; you’re not important. Time will pass, and he will never see you again. That is how things always happen. Why would he want them to be different? This solitary lifestyle suits him well. He enjoys living away from people, and enjoys the freedom his tower gives him. So what’s this swooping feeling in his chest?
Eventually, the feeling goes away and he forgets about it. But Rasmodius doesn’t forget about you. He can’t forget about your glimmering eyes, the smile on your face as you conversed with him so naturally. He could never forget the way you commanded his attention, his eyes finding you as a moth finds a flame—
Rather than dwell on these thoughts, he immerses himself in the arcane. It’s a suitable distraction, and the thoughts are momentarily kept at bay. At least, until he hears someone knocking on his door some time later.
The wizard growls and walks over to the door, fully intent on shooing the visitor away. When he opens the door, the cryptic insult he means to say falls back in his throat. You’re standing on his doorstep, and a lighthearted smile rises on your face once you see him.
“Hey!” you greet him brightly.
“...Hello,” Rasmodius responds, after a moment of hesitation.
“Mind if I ask you something?” you ask. Ever so polite, he thinks to himself. Who would he be to refuse?
“Go ahead,” the wizard says.
“I was poking around in the Community Center… and I found a scroll with some writing on it,” you begin. Immediately, Rasmodius thinks he knows what writing it must’ve been. “I couldn’t read what it said, but I figured you might know…” You trail off, looking hesitant and embarrassed all of a sudden. The wizard watches as you pull a scrap of paper out of your pocket and hand it to him. It seems you transcribed the message on the scroll. Sure enough, the message was written in the language of the Juminos—as he suspected.
Rasmodius could give you the translation. However, he gets the feeling this won’t be the only time you’ll have a use for knowing the language. “I have an easier solution to this dilemma,” the wizard remarks, beckoning you in. You step into the tower behind him and Rasmodius looks around his shelves until he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back to you and extends the vial of potion towards you. You take the vial immediately, but you seem hesitant to drink the potion. “It’s the essence of the forest.”
For a moment, he thinks you won’t drink it. You tip your head and he lets the substance fall through your lips. For a moment, you’re entirely silent as you swallow the potion. Then, suddenly, you’re blinking and rubbing your eyes roughly.
“What was that?” you ask, tears running down your face.
“The essence of the forest,” Rasmodius maintains. “As I said.” He was starting to get the sense that you trusted him. He must’ve been wrong.
“My vision is spinning,” you remark casually, rubbing tears from your eyes. “It’s so bright.”
“Ah, yes,” Rasmodius recalls. “It tends to have that effect.”
“Could’ve used a warning next time,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. It is difficult for Rasmodius to suppress a chuckle at that. Who knew mortals could be so amusing? You then turn to him with renewed vigor. “But thank you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You place a hand on his shoulder for a moment, before bidding him farewell and leaving. Rasmodius remains frozen in place for some time after your departure. He can’t remember the last time another mortal was so willing to converse with him—and touch him, no less.
The next seasons come and go without warning. Summer morphs into fall in the blink of an eye, and before long, there is snow on the ground. Rasmodius doesn’t place much importance on time, yet even he feels somewhat helpless to its flow. Winter transitions into spring. The wizard continues on, the same as always. Nothing is different.
Until you’re knocking on his door again.
You haven’t visited since your last conversation about the Juminos, yet you’ve never left Rasmodius’s mind. Now, as you stand in the doorway once more, he finds that time has treated you well. There’s less visible tension in your shoulders, and a lighter air about you. Perhaps springtime has something to do with that.
“Hello,” you remark.
“Hello,” Rasmodius responds cautiously. Old habits die hard, and he continues to be distrustful of humans. By now, he should know that you’re different. Indeed, although he hasn’t had the chance to have a full conversation with you, he’s seen you wandering in the woods near his tower. Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring and send him a wave. Other times, you seem too preoccupied to notice the tower in the distance.
“Are you going to the Flower Dance?” you ask, breaking him out of his thoughts. The wizard regards you for a moment.
“‘The Flower Dance’?” he repeats, confusion coloring his tone. This must be another mortal custom he is unfamiliar with.
“It’s the festival on the 24th,” you elaborate.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Rasmodius remarks honestly. He isn’t very interested in the human celebrations around Pelican Town.
“Oh,” you respond. He must be imagining the disappointment tugging your lips into a slight frown. For a moment, there’s nothing but an awkward silence. “Well, I’d like to see you there.” You say.
You’re gone before he can process the gravity of your statement. Why do you want to see him at the festival? What purpose would it serve you?
Rasmodius doesn’t plan on giving the foolish celebration even a moment of his attention. He goes back to his studies and resolutely ignores any thoughts of your hopeful expression. Yet, when the 24th arrives, he finds himself standing at the edge of the thick woods as the spring breeze gently rustles his hair. Everyone at the festival is mingling on the grassy plain, and the local shopkeeper is selling small souvenirs. There seems to be a sense of anticipation lingering in the air. Rasmodius overhears that there will be some sort of dance between the villagers. The wizard thinks the idea of a dance is rather foolish and performative, but the villagers seem to be looking forward to it. Rasmodius lets his gaze wander. He can feel the wary gazes of the townsfolk. Why is he here, again?
Then, you appear, wearing crisp clothing and a hesitant smile. You flit about the area, speaking to nearly everyone. Whatever the mayor says is enough for you to get flustered, your body language minutely shifting to reflect… hesitation? Nerves? The mayor laughs then, clapping a hand on your shoulder. Rasmodius feels his brows furrow at the display.
Rasmodius watches from afar as you continue walking around the field. The entire town’s eyes seem to be on you, as a restless anticipation settles in the air. All the potential suitors seem enamored with you, and why wouldn’t they be? You’re the beloved farmer—the one who is actively improving the town and supporting the economy. You’re the hero of Pelican Town. Rasmodius is just the wizard that lives in the faraway tower. He feels somewhat akin to the princess in those foolish fairy tales—locked away behind walls of stone and cascading ivy, forced to spectate as time passes.
You’re about to choose a dance partner. He can’t watch for much longer. An ugly feeling prickles along his skin and Rasmodius feels himself turning his back, walking away from the foolish celebration. He leaves the festival with an ugly feeling prickling along his skin. (If the wizard had stayed a few moments longer, perhaps he would’ve seen the troubled look on your face as you looked around for him.)
For a while after that, Rasmodius is bitter. He knows the feeling isn’t fair—knows that you probably didn’t even know he was at the Flower Dance, couldn’t see his position deep in the shaded trees and far enough away for people not to stare. But emotion never bends to rationality.
Life goes on. The seasons change once more. The farmer visits him every so often, bringing him gifts of void essence, super cucumber, and purple mushroom. He wonders how you know exactly what will be useful to his studies. Somehow, you always seem to know when he needs company. The moment Rasmodius starts to feel isolated and alone, you’re suddenly standing on his doorstep with a smile on your face and a gift in your hands.
For a second, Rasmodius is fooled into thinking you’re treating him differently than the other villagers. It doesn’t take him long to notice that nearly everyone has received a gift from you at one point or another—that you’re almost constantly walking around to speak with everyone. Rasmodius isn’t special.
One particular visit, you bring him void essence and ask him a question. It’s one he’s heard before. “Are you going to the Flower Dance?”
Rasmodius doesn’t have any reason to hesitate, but he does anyway. A small part of him thinks of being forced to watch you dance with someone, someone else. He takes a deep breath. “Perhaps,” he responds.
“Alright,” you respond, a slightly quizzical look on your face. Rasmodius walks away, conflict rising within him. He doesn’t want to see you dance with someone else. But if there were a chance, however small, that you’d dance with him…
It’s a calculated risk, Rasmodius thinks to himself as he stands in the very far corner of the field. He’s within view this year, for reasons he can’t quite explain. That air of apprehension is back, and it’s affecting him, too. Rasmodius is waiting for a moment that he is almost positive will never come.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Rasmodius nearly jumps out of his skin, before realizing it’s you.
“Hello,” you remark, an easy smile on your face. You’re wearing the same sharp style you wore last year, and Rasmodius can’t help but think it suits you.
“Hello,” he repeats, once he’s gotten a rein on his thoughts. For a second, there’s silence as he stares at you.
“…May I have this dance?” You ask. Rasmodius’s eyes widen. You’re staring at him like he holds the entire universe in his hands, like he has the power to freeze time just for the two of you to share this single moment. Your hand remains extended toward him, an open invitation.
Chapter Summary: Spirit’s Eve shenanigans interlude - Sebastian WRECKS ya lol
Author’s Note: Got this one out WAY earlier than anticipated. My brainrot is too powerful..
Table of Contents + Work Summary
Check it out on ao3!
Prev | Next
When I return to Seb’s, Robin’s at the counter, unlike earlier. Looks like she’s doing some sorta till-counting or something, given how she’s hunched near the open register and vigorously scribbling into a notepad.
She’s in her costume while she does it. Considering it’s a crappy, plasticky getup from a chain store, she makes a hot Morticia Addams, god damn Robin!
“Getting some last minute work in?” I ask, taking my usual stance with my elbows upon the opposite side of the wood.
“Something like that,” she murmurs. Sounds stressed.
“Well… you look great, at least!”
She huffs out a bitter laugh, then says under her breath, “Oh yeah? Tell that to my husband.”
Oooh, is that why she’s moody? I’ll kick his ass! I’ll fuck him up!
…No I won’t.
But still, what the fuck?
A little taken aback, and unsure if it’s my place to say anything bad about that dipshit to her, I opt to offer support. “Whoa, everything okay?”
She still hasn’t met my eyes, but she does roll hers. “That di—“ She stops herself. “He—“ She takes a deep breath, her lids shutting. Looks like she’s trying to regroup.
“…You can totally call him a dick, if that’s what you were gonna do,” I offer, resting my chin on my knuckles.
Robin laughs a little more genuinely this time. “Eh. Feels weird to complain to my son’s girlfriend about my marital issues.” She looks up at me, her eyes a little glazed over, before they widen. She blinks and raises her brows, taken aback by my appearance. “Oh. Oh wow!” Then, she leans in and whispers, “You did this with magic?!”
Beaming, I nod.
“That’s amazing! You’re kind of like one of those characters from those games Sebby plays.”
“I had to get inspiration somewhere,” I quip with some finger guns.
“Dork.”
“You love me though.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she reluctantly agrees, scruffing my hair.
I scowl, and then as I fix it, I jump back to the previous topic. “You know, you can talk to me about anything. If you want.” This time I rest the heel of my palm against my chin. “As a friend, not just as your son’s girlfriend, or a customer, or whatever.”
After inspecting me for a moment, Robin smiles. “I’m glad Sebastian fell in love with such a sweetheart, y’know that?”
I’m cheesing hard, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, but I feign anger anyway. “What’d I just say? I’m your friend right now! Forget that guy!”
She barks out a laugh and throws her palms up in defeat. She fixes some hair from her wig out of her face as she goes on, zoned out on the desk between us, “I’m… ugh.” Another sigh. “Demetrius is just upset that I don’t want him locked in that lab tonight. God forbid he spends some time with his family during a holiday.”
She pauses, looks at me again, and her eyes are threatening to tear up. I can’t help the way my own mouth melts downward as she quickly darts her view away from me.
“He couldn’t care less about our costumes.”
The woman sniffs and tries to hide her face. I scurry around to the other side of the counter — she looks like she could use a hug. When I silently open my arms she laughs wetly and accepts.
Over my shoulder, she murmurs, “I just thought it could be fun to match, ya know? To act like a happy married couple, for a change. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be around me outside of our Friday saloon dates though.”
I’m not really sure what to say. My heart is telling me to shout “Dump his ass!!!” but I know that would be inappropriate.
I wind up trying to lighten the situation in lieu of consolation. “Y’wanna know what I think?” I ask, pulling away and clapping my hands over her shoulders.
“Please, share your wisdom, wise wizard.”
I giggle at that. Then, still smiling, “He’s a real dickhead.”
“(Y/n)!” Robin exclaims, albeit through her own giggles. She weakly swats at me.
“He is! The more I hear about him, the more I think he deserves a nice ol’,” and I pull back some more, punching at the air, with my cheeks puffed and brows slanted downward.
Still laughing, she leans on the surface next to her. “Simmer down, Rocky,” she tells me, resting her temple on her palm.
I join her in leaning on the counter again. “Okay, in all seriousness, though... You deserve to be happy. Whether he wants to play along for the night or not.” After a quiet beat, I add “…What if I’m Gomez?”
Robin shoots me an amused, incredulous look. “What?”
“If Demetrius won’t be your Gomez then I will!” I declare with a nod. “Just bring the mustache with you later, if he won’t wear it. I’ll gladly slap it on.”
She shakes her head. The way her grin hasn’t left her face makes me smile right back.
God. Seb really does have her smile. It warms my heart a ton to see it from the source.
“C’mere, you little weirdo.”
Robin pulls me back into another hug. Still feeling silly, I tell her that I’m serious. I am, I’ll do it! She promptly and playfully pushes me off her.
“Alright, get outta here.”
“Think about it!” I advise, tapping my head as I walk away.
“Oh my god.”
Well.
There we go!
I think I helped..?
I hope I helped.
Robin’s usually so strong, and independent, and full of sass and kindness and goofiness all in one package. It’s hard seeing someone I look up to so much so… broken. Especially over some dumb asshole like Demetrius.
I softly rap on Seb’s door, then enter without an answer, assuming he’s still asleep. And he is — there are soft snores coming from a mound of blankets on his bed.
I pad over to him and sit down, placing a hand on his shoulder.
I get real close and whisper, “Time to get up, baby,” near his ear.
He shifts a little and sighs. His eyes open. They stay squinty as he blinks the sleep away.
Oh. That was easy. “I thought there would be more protest than this.”
Seb sniffs and stretches, rolling his neck a bit. It pops, and he follows with rolling his shoulders too, which also pop.
“The way y’whispered at me was so hot,” he explains. I ignore the flip my stomach does hearing him say that with his groggy rasp. “Got me right up.”
Is he bonin’ out already? “Figuratively or..?”
He turns to face me finally, a shitty little grin pairing an eyebrow waggle. It quickly morphs into a gleaming smile though, his eyes darkening above it as he takes in my disguise for the day. “Oh you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”
I chew the bottom half of my smile as my face warms right up. “Still a fan?”
He scoffs, “‘Still a fan,’” mirroring my words back at me while he tugs me into his lap. I squeak, not expecting this energy from Seb right now, but he quickly muffles it with a heated kiss.
His fingers dig into my hips before he brings his hands up to cup my face. “Of course I’m still a fan,” he breathes between kisses, “you have no idea.”
I grin into his lips, pulling away just enough to murmur, “I think I have a little bit of an idea.” As I speak, I roll my hips, effectively trailing my clothed slit against his erection.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, flipping us so that he’s on top of me, slotted between my legs.
One of his hands is grounded on the pillow by my head; the other is plastered to my cheek as if it’ll fall off otherwise. In the meantime, I wrap my legs around his waist, heady exhales escaping through my nose as he grinds himself against me. I try to match his energy, tangling my fingers through his hair while I tug his face closer to mine.
“What time was it when you got down here?”
“Dunno, I—“ he lightly thrusts again, cutting me off as I curse against his lips, “Fuck.” I grin into a kiss and then continue, doing my best to ignore his active lower half, “Last I checked,” another kiss, “it was 7ish,” another, “Probably got here like 15 minutes ago.” Another kiss, and another roll, prompting us to moan against each other. “Maybe 20,” I breathe.
“Damn it.” Seb presses his forehead to mine, his eyes shut. “How about this?” he states more than asks.
“Hm?”
“I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
“Mhm,” I have to hum, because he paused to kiss me again.
“Then I’ll get ready, y’know, do my hair and all that.”
Kiss.
“‘Kay.”
Kiss.
“And then,” he pauses for another kiss while his fingertips drag to the side of my neck. His thumb trails my jaw and finds residence on my chin, its tip touching the underside of my bottom lip, in the meantime. “I’m gonna make you cum all over my cock,” kiss, “alright?”
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
I nod.
Kiss.
“Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I practically moan.
Kiss.
“Yeah? You’d like that?”
I nod, kissing his smug grin.
He reciprocates the action, and then tugs my chin down to give himself entry. I whine at the gesture while his tongue twirls around my own.
…And then he pulls away, gives me an all too friendly smile and pat on the cheek, and gets up, sauntering to the bathroom.
I can’t help but laugh.
_______________
Seb did his hair straight out of the shower — it’s no different than usual — but came out for help with makeup.
“Honestly, I thought you were half-sleeping when I suggested this,” I mutter while giving him the best smokey eye I can manage with red and black.
It’s hard working with eyes that aren’t my own. Also hard not to overdo it. Something about eyeshadow just makes me wanna keep coloring everything in…
“I was,” he confirms. “Only half, though.”
From my seat atop him, I lean over to put the eyeshadow down and grab his liner stick. It’s hard not to feel a little restless in this position. Dude’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Didn’t want to risk smudging anything onto his white shirt, and didn’t feel like getting into dress pants just yet. Every little movement is like a taste of what’s to come after this, if he’s still up for it.
Yoba, I hope he’s up for it.
Instrument in hand, I tilt his head gently by the chin for a better view. He closes his eyes before I have to ask, so I move my non-dominant hand to his cheek and get to work carefully lining a lid.
“Didn’t you say when we first met that you used to wear eyeliner?”
He grins, and I have to pause so as to not smudge anything too badly. When he feels that I stopped, he opens his eyes. Those deep blueish irises have an extra sparkle to them. His cheeks heat up a little too, and I can see hints of a blush growing on them.
“Yeah, I’m a bit rusty— wait, you actually remember that?”
I pull a face. “‘Course I do,” I respond, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You made that night fun… made me feel safe and welcome after having to endure that thorough grilling from Abby.” I blush as I tack on, at the risk of being a sap, “It’s a really special memory for me.”
Barely containing his pearly whites, he goes on, “She went in on you.”
He shuts his eyes for me again after seeing that I’ve returned my focus to his makeup. I begin working on the other one, satisfied with my work on the first after a quick swipe just beneath his waterline.
“I’d probably have cried if it weren’t for all the beer.”
“Imagine,” he huffs out a laugh. “All the moms probably wouldn’t shut up about you.”
I toss Seb’s pencil aside and get to work smudging it with my fingertip a bit. Looks too neat. “Y’hear about that new girl?” I jest in something akin to Jodi’s cadence. “Sensitive thing, she is. She won’t last a day on that farm.” I pull back a bit and take Seb’s face in my hands, inspecting my work on his eyes while we laugh.
“Oh, and don’t even get me started on that little skirt she was wearing,” he plays along.
“Ha!” I break. “That skirt isn’t that little.”
“It’s little enough that it had me thinking.”
“Thinking?” I tilt my head.
He winks. “Thinking.”
Oh! My heart flutters because of course it does. I nuzzle my forehead against his and squeeze my eyes shut to stim away the fluster; he giggles, and then, simmering down, I ask, “You want some mascara?”
“Maybe a bit on the bottom row.”
“Oh, you’re gonna look downright slutty.”
“I’m not hearing a problem with that.”
“Neither am I,” I quip, being careful not to make them too tidy. Gotta make sure to clump some lashes up more than others too…
That should do it.
I lean back to scan his face again. “Lipstick?”
“Maybe some black on the top lip? And some red… somewhere near my mouth, I dunno. Fake blood and all that.”
I nod, but lean in for a kiss instead of doing it. He happily reciprocates. “Not yet,” I purr against him. “You have a promise to fulfill.”
He grins, wide and catlike, and hungrily chases my lips. “Don’t wanna sloppy it up?”
“And let my hard work go to waste?” I tease. My voice comes out airy, and my breath quickens as he pulls my chest to his.
“But maybe I like it sloppy.”
Ignoring the implications, I subtly roast, “Bold words for someone who didn’t wanna dirty his shirt.”
“Oh shut up,” he laughs before smashing his mouth to mine again. Pulls away, gnaws his lower lip... “I have an idea, actually.”
“Hm?”
He picks up some red lipstick and hands it to me. I tilt my head in question.
“Slap it on me.”
I snort. “Where are you going with this?” I ask while I follow his instruction.
As soon as I’m done, he pulls me in for more kisses. Sloppy kisses. The kind that can make me moan, whether it’s from being flustered, or from the kisses themselves — and they do.
Seb smiles against me before kissing me some more. Then, he pulls away. He laughs at the resulting makeup on my face.
“Oh, you look adorable.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, bringing a finger to my mouth.
When I pull the digit away it has a red tinge to it; hard to gauge how dark it would actually look on my face until I see it, with my skin being pink in my disguise, and this room so dim.
“You tell me,” he asks, more about himself. He does a quick mouth wiggle while puckering.
“You’re looking pretty wrecked.”
“Pretty bloody?”
“Ooo, nice!” I beam.
“Can never tell me I’m not clever again.”
Laughing, I flick his nose. He reaches for a bite on my finger and I let him have it. “Never said you weren’t.”
“Damn right.” He pulls me back in, kissing me with a fervor I haven’t felt from him in a hot minute.
I wonder if it’s my… elfliness (sure, that’s a word). It’s gotta be that.
I’m not complaining.
With our lips locked, he begins lifting off my shirt, and I work on my pants in turn. There’s a few rows of buttons on ‘em but I get through it eventually.
Once my mouth is free, I think aloud, “I wonder what color my nips are, if my skin is already pink.”
I pause my work on my pants while he unclasps my bra. “Only one way to find out.” As it falls, we both laugh. “Fucking purple?”
“Hey, I think it works!” I lift my breast for closer inspection. It’s funny seeing a mauvy lavender there, as opposed to its usual color. It compliments my skin nicely though!
Next thing I know, I’m swallowing a hum as a result of Seb latching onto the same boob I’d been holding. He grabs my nipple between his teeth and lightly pulls away, making me whine. “It does work,” he agrees. Then, he delves into the other.
After a brief moment, he removes himself. “Pants off.”
I mumble, “Bossy...”
I stand up and do it anyway, though. I get rid of my panties too while I’m at it. Not like I’ll need them for this.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love being bossed around, y’little gremlin.”
He flips me around and pulls me back into his lap, but facing away from him now; nudges my legs open with his knees; and then, while planting wet kisses to my neck and shoulder, he drags a finger through my folds in a long, languid stroke. I don’t even have time to argue back.
I moan, rolling my head rest on Sebby’s shoulder behind me. Drinking in the feeling of his warm lips and breath on my skin, I arch instinctively while he creeps closer to my entrance. The hand that had been holding my hip wraps around my midsection in response, keeping me from moving too much, but not stopping me either.
“Jeez. So wet already,” he lilts.
“Yeah, well…” I trail off, not in the mindset to say anything clever back. I’m too foggy with want for that.
Seb seems to be having fun taking his damn time with me. He circles the opening, not quite giving me the satisfaction of entry, but still making me feel something. I squirm, antsy as he devolves me into a needy (well— need ier ), panting mess.
“Something wrong, love?” he mutters against my ear before lightly nipping at its pointy tip.
Smartass.
“N-no, nothing,” I lie.
“Good,” he teases, “almost thought you were dissatisfied for a sec there.”
Damnit. I mean, I’m not, fucking obviously, but if he’d just go in…
I sigh, but it comes out as a huff, and turns into a whimper. My dominant arm has been raised, its hand toying with Sebastian’s hair this whole time. The other, which had been gripping the arm Seb’s holding me in place with, is now on its way to his active hand, in an attempt to urge him inside me.
As soon as my hand makes contact with his wrist, he retracts his fingers to the lower portion of my folds again.
He warns lowly, “Keep that hand to yourself.”
Oh he has no business being this hot, god damnit dude.
I heed his words with an embarrassing squeak, draping my arm across my tummy, just below his. His grip with that one tightens as he gets back to work drawing circles and stars around the rim of my cunt.
“Ahh— fuck,” I whimper, my hips moving on their own volition, “please.”
He softly asks, his lips against my earlobe, “What do you want?”
“Please,” I pause to moan as he barely — just barely — dips inside me, planting a kiss to my cheek just in front of my ear. “Need you.”
“You already have me, silly. Gotta be more specific than that.”
He peppers kisses around my neck while I struggle to find words to respond with. Just when I feel his tongue licking a strip across it, his thumb rests itself on my clit, unmoving.
My thighs tense and I squeeze the forearm that’s above my own, subconsciously tugging his hair a little too. “God.”
“Tell me,” he kisses my neck again, “tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”
“Fuck, I want you.” I urge, “I need you inside me, please— oh shit,” my body twitches as he slightly begins to wriggle his thumb. He’s still not fingerbanging me yet, the audacity, but this still feels fucking good. “God, please, Seb.”
“Still need more details.” Oh my fucking— he’s trying to kill me. He wants me dead. “What part of me do you want inside you?”
Anything, frankly. “Y-your fingers,” I stutter instead, shuddering as he presses my bud a little harder.
“Yeah?”
I mewl, “Yeah.” He grants my wish, but not enough. Slides his ring and middle fingers maybe an inch in, at most. I could fucking cry. “Ff— god damnit.”
“I thought you wanted this?”
I’ll fucking kill you bro— “Deeper,” I breathe, ignoring how desperate I sound; how tantalizingly he’s wiggling his digits.
“This better?” he asks smoothly, and begins to pump the full length of his fingers in and out of me.
My head lolls back and tears fall from my eyes in relief. He moves absurdly slow as he begins to curl the pads of his fingers against me, but it’s better than everything else he’s done to cause me to crumble like this. “Fuck, yes~”
He removes his arm from my belly and turns my head to him. Without moving my lower body, I twist so that I can comply better, resting a palm beside us on the mattress. My other reaches for his face while I try to kiss him — and he gets close, but ultimately doesn’t budge.
I chase his lips, humming through the pleasure, then groaning when he doesn’t work with me. He smiles knowingly.
I deadpan, “Oh my fucking god.” Or, at least I do to the best of my ability while he’s got knuckles buried in me.
“You want more?”
“Please,” I nod. My forehead is against his as I shut my eyes, subtly shifting myself down so that he’ll go deeper. He responds in kind, pumping and curling against the perfect spot. “Ah!”
“Better?”
I nod again. Try for another kiss. He doesn’t let me again. Ugh. “Please, please,” I whisper. Comes out embarrassingly needy.
As if all my other pleas haven’t been.
“What else do you want?”
My eyes don’t leave his lips. They look destroyed, between the natural plumpness of us having kissed so much, and the lipstick that’s smeared around them.
It’s so hot.
“Kiss me, please kiss me.”
He leans in… and pecks the corner of my mouth.
I grunt between my teeth. “Please just fucking kiss me, oh my g—“ Smiling, Sebastian shuts me up with an actual kiss.
He pokes fun at me after, “So easy…”
“Shut up— fuck, more.”
“Like this?” he asks, speeding up his digits’ pace as he kisses me again, our tongues tangling together while he swallows my moans.
I nod, but then I realize we’re running out of time. As good as this is — and holy fucking moly it’s amazing, I actually adore when he’s a devious little shit like this — I need him to just screw me senseless so I can recouperate before having to go face the entire town and whoever else shows up.
I gasp out of the kiss, “Fuck me.”
“Aw,” he tuts, “this isn’t good enough?”
“Sh— ah, shut up!”
He laughs. “You want me to stop this then?”
Well… No…
But I nod.
“Please, fuck, I wanna cum with you, not like this.”
God, I sound pathetic. But this is urgent. I’m getting so close.
His smile widens. I finally meet his eyes, after having stared at the lower half of his face for so long. His pupils are blown wide — practically to the rims of his irises.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” I can feel myself tightening. I’m doing my best to stave it off, but… “Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing this.”
“You think you can cum twice for me then?”
“Shit.” Don’t have to twist my arm. “‘Kay.”
“Yeah? You want that?”
I nod eagerly. Desperately.
He gets close enough that our lips are pressing together a bit, but he doesn’t kiss me. “Then cum.” Oh my god. “Cum on my fingers, baby,” fucking hell, “let me feel your tight pussy cumming onto my hand.”
Oh my fucking god.
A soundless cry escapes me and I nod, promptly delivering. “Seb, shit, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,“ I desperately babble, my release hitting me like a train. I close my eyes and lean onto his shoulder, initially clamping a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Seb maneuvers me into a kiss instead.
When he’s finished me off, Seb removes his fingers from my cunt and brings the afflicted hand close to our jaws. He backs away from our kiss with just enough space to slide his wet digits between our faces; to hold them just in front of my mouth, waiting patiently but expectantly.
Beguiled beyond belief, I don’t let my gaze waver from his as I wrap my lips around his fingers. I suck myself off of him, teasing him with my tongue as I do, and then seal the action with another kiss, all but leading in with my tongue.
He groans at the taste. It’s all he needed to give up any bit of restraint he had before.
“Fuck. Grab onto me,” he softly orders.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he flips me onto my back, sliding his underwear off in tandem. He promptly dips just his head inside me, and proceeds to use a combination of my folds and his fingers to spread my fluids onto himself, getting his dick lubed up.
I shiver at the sensation, but only for a few seconds before he inches his length inside me.
“Oh, shit.” We literally moan the words in unison. Makes us both break from our trances.
“Oh no.“
“I dunno how I felt about that.”
“Hated it, personally.” I admit, though, “…But also it was kinda hot?”
Gnawing his lower lip, Seb nods in agreement.
We’re both still giggling about the occurrence when he resumes the activity, harshly thrusting into me. Morphing my laughter into a happy lil’ moan.
“Fuck, you always feel so good.” Seb lowers himself a bit, dropping my legs in favor of holding my face in one hand and gripping the sheets in the other. “So fucking perfect.”
I feel my belly do a flip at his words while I drink in his praise, committing to memory the way he’s looking at me as if I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. I reach my hands to the sides of his neck and tug lightly in hopes he’ll come down for a kiss. Instead, he settles above me, hovering his lips right in front of mine.
I see that’s his theme for today. Jackass…
I moan into his mouth while he pants into mine. Our gazes haven’t faltered from each other’s; the eye contact is making me feel shy, but I can’t look away.
“Fuck,” I mewl after a harsher thrust, “do that again?”
“This?” Seb repeats the action, and I nod, feeling my eyelids flutter. I don’t dare to shut them though. “You like that?”
“I love it,” I nod, “I love you,” I pause to swallow a cry, worried about the volume, before repeating, “I love you so much, you’re so fucking good.”
“Me, or my dick?” he pokes back. His face looks extra cocky, too.
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Both, fuck I love your cock.”
“Oh, holy fuck,” he half-moans, half-laughs. Not the first time I’ve said that, glad it still affects him. He rolls his eyes shut and presses his forehead to mine. “How much, princess?” he asks as he opens them again, his fiery stare boring into mine.
The nickname surges through me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. “So much, you’re—“
I promptly zip it and slap a palm over my mouth as someone knocks on the door. Sebastian puts one of his over the back of my hand for good measure.
Shit.
“Sebby?” Robin’s voice calls through. “We’re just about ready to go.”
Shit!
He hasn’t stopped thrusting. Just slowed down. I grip his wrist with my free hand and squeeze — a safety measure to make sure I really won’t make noise and fuck this up for everyone, because Yoba above it’s hard not to.
Hopefully she hasn’t heard it up to this point… “We’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he says back, “Just finishing up my costume.”
“Gotcha, gotcha. Need any help?”
“No,” he answers all too quickly. He recoups, “No, it’s fine, (y/n)’s got me covered. We’ll meet you guys outside.”
“Alrighty, try to hurry up. We’re already running a little late.”
He answers while simultaneously placing a sneaky finger to my clit, “You got it, Ma.”
Oh my god. I shut my eyes and try to breathe steady, listening to her footsteps fade away. It’s hard to be this quiet with this much stimulation.
Seb’s vision is still angled towards the door while he waits too. When it returns to me — when he sees my eyes, specifically, and how filled with want they probably look — he whispers out a half curse, stopping himself so he can keep listening.
As soon as we hear the front door upstairs shut, he removes both our hands from my mouth and kisses me.
“You close?” he whispers.
I shrug. “Might need some encouragement.”
“Yeah? You need me to tell you when to cum?”
Oh, that’s definitely encouraging. God he’s so hot.
“Mhm,” I hum. “Just tell me what to do.”
He smiles. It almost looks a bit sinister… damn, and he called me a freak. Seb straightens his back, tugging me closer by the thighs before pumping into me with more force. “Let me see you touch yourself.”
Oh.
I release one of my fists from its recent death grip on his sheets and place two fingers against my folds, trying to strum to the rhythm of his hips.
“There you go,” he praises, leaning down with a straight arm supporting himself. The other cups my cheek, its thumb playing with my lips. “Help me out,” he murmurs, “get yourself real close for me.” I whine at his words, and my pussy clenches around him. He laughs, but it isn’t smug or demeaning. Just smitten. “That’s it, baby. Juuust like that.”
Fuck, this is working out flawlessly.
“I’m close,” I tell him, my voice barely even there, “m’gonna cum.”
“Atta girl.” I feel him twitch inside me. “Fuck. You wanna cum together, yeah?”
I nod, subtly speeding up my fingers.
“Come on then, (y/n), cum with me. Keep those pretty eyes on me and cum.”
Seb’s kind enough to give me a bit of a head start. Just as I start to crumble, I feel him joining me, nearly pressing his forehead against my own. His eyes roll shut for a moment before locking back onto mine below thick, upturned eyebrows.
“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he smiles through his own pleasure.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe, shakey and winded.
He soothes me through to the end, “That’s it, baby, nice and easy.”
I swear to god he’s so good at that; at just flipping a switch, and suddenly knowing exactly what to say and do. That alone should be its own weird subgenre of wizardry.
I shut my weary eyes, and for a few beats we just stay where we are, huffing each other’s air. When I open my eyes, I notice a hint of determination in Seb’s.
Right.
We’ve gotta get cleaned up and finish his look. Fast .
Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao
Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*
My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!
I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3
Table of Contents + Work Summary
Check it out on ao3!
Prev | Next
I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.
Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.
For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.
After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.
I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though.
Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.
I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.
Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.
I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay.
I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.
Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.
I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.
After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.
While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...
I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.
I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.
I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.
We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.
“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down.
“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”
I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.
Great.
“Everything alright, sweetie?”
That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”
I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?”
I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground…
A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.
Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.
God damnit.
“Nice one.”
God fucking damnit.
I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.
Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing.
I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”
Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?”
I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”
“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.”
I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.
Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.
“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”
My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”
There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”
I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.
Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.
Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.
“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.
I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.
“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”
Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.
“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.
“Buh.”
…Buh?
I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!
Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.
The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.
The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady.
The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.
While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty.
I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…
No. I shan’t.
I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!
Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world.
Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.
He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest.
He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.
I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed.
Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.
Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.
“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.
He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.
“Hell yeah, thanks dude!”
I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”
“You didn’t make yourself one?”
I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”
Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”
Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.”
“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.
“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!”
“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.
“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”
Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.
It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”
“Shit, here.”
Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps.
I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”
Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.”
I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.
Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.
I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.
This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…
I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly.
My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.
I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”
My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”
Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.
“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”
…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid?
Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.
My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.
I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!
Screw this guy!
Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”
“E-excuse me?!”
I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”
“I— w-what are you doing?”
Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.
Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.
Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!
Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”
This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.
I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.
Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.”
HUH?
I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.
“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy.
My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.
“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”
I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”
Chapter Summary: Spirit's Eve shenanigans part 1 - time to meet Krobus!
Author’s Note: The gathering in the sewers is based off the Festival of the Mundane mod!! It was broken in 1.6 unfortunately, but someone mentioned a rework of it in the comments. Definitely worth trying it if you haven't before, it's a very cute mod ^^
Hope y'all enjoy this one. I really did :3 Take care x
Table of Contents + Work Summary
Check it out on ao3!
Prev (<- Links to ao3 for a note! If you want to skip it, click here) | Next
Upon arriving home, I discover that Cannoli is not fond of pink elven strangers that look like his human. Probably less so ones who are invading his home.
The first thing he does is yell at me, with his dark grey tail puffed, and his lighter ears essentially mimicking the curvature of little devil horns.
“It’s just me, bud!” I coo, kneeling down and offering a hand for him to sniff.
He hisses in response. He rarely hisses — usually only if I annoy him too much, or if he’s hurt, a la bonking his head during his morning zoomies for example. I love this little idiot. And I know he’s just scared right now, so I’m not too worried about this reaction from him.
“Yeah?” I challenge, sitting cross-legged, “You wanna tussle?”
His pupils dilate.
I raise my own fists near my chest and furrow my brows. “Put ‘em up!”
Cannoli forms into that low, chest down-butt high stance that cats do before pouncing. I genuinely can’t tell at this point if he knows it’s me and he’s just messing around, or if I’m about to get mauled.
“I’ll pummel ya,” I playfully warn in hopes of the former.
He sneezes in retaliation. I lower my fists for a moment and softly offer him a blessing. He huffs out the wet remnants of his sneeze (eugh…) and shakes his head before reassuming his position, as do I.
I cautiously choose not to move more than this just yet. I know I can heal faster now than ever before, but I’d still rather not experience my son brutalizing me, believe it or not!
Because of my lack of movement, Cannoli doesn’t budge either. He simply watches me, with those big beady eyes… he’s probably going through the same thought process as myself, if I had to guess.
The little guy spends a few beats more trying to decide whether to attack me or not before running away to hide.
Victory is mine.
Once he’s out of sight, I lay myself down in the center of the main room and wait for him to come back. He likes to hide in the shower when he’s feeling jittery… he’s probably in there. I don’t wanna barge in and make him feel any more skittish, though.
It doesn’t take very long for him to show back up. He approaches me with hesitance as I lay still, save for my head, which follows his movements. The cat sniffs my knee, then nears my face and sniffs my cheek. I crinkle my nose and the corresponding eye as his whiskers tickle me, but refrain from moving my hands just yet.
After one last once-over, Cannoli crawls onto my belly and lays down, his face no more than an inch or two from mine.
Did it work? Does he know it’s me?
I reach up a shy finger near his nose. He sniffs it, then nuzzles into it. I can feel his purrs vibrating onto my stomach.
He totally knows it’s me.
I scratch under his chin, then hold him close as I raise myself up, carrying him to the bed. He stays out when I leave for a sec to get ready to join him.
He seems to have calmed down a considerable amount, given he’s fallen asleep already by the time I’m back.
Let’s hope he can manage to stay this relaxed when I inevitably shapeshift back to normal overnight.
_______________
After a long few hours of being unable to sleep, I finally conked out.
But, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning to Cannoli loudly meowing and pouncing on me so as to alert me that I was a human again. Annoyed but feeling appreciative — now I know what kinda time frame I’m working with — I thanked the man. Then, after wrangling him into a cuddle, I managed to sleep in ‘til almost noon. Fine by me, honestly.
I don’t have to be ready for the event — both below- or above-ground — until later in the day, so I’ll take my time picking the last of my crops for the season. As usual, I pop in some earbuds to listen to music, humming and dancing around a little while I work.
The harvest passes by relatively quickly. The only hiccup: one of my pumpkins began to look similar to a void egg, practically overnight. Never seen anything like it, and never want to again! Sensing that something or someone did this somehow, I sigh, carrying the pumpkin over to my outdoor waste bin.
I unceremoniously plop that puppy inside and briskly retreat, choosing to ignore the magical heebie jeebies I got while touching it. Not only do I not want to mess with something potentially just as dangerous as a fucking void egg, but I’d rather avoid using or shipping the pumpkin only to find out later that it’s got some kinda hex on it and wiped out a small population.
Y’never know.
After scavenging the cave for some fruit the local bats might’ve left behind and preemptively scything some weeds and dead plants — easier to get it done now than when there’s snow blanketing the ground — I rush to get ready and head to Seb’s. I wanna squeeze in some time with him before spending the next however many hours doing magic and potentially traversing through pipes, y’know? Plus, Magnus is busy setting up for tonight anyway, and Seb already said he’d welcome the company while he crams some last-minute work in. Everyone benefits.
Robin’s not at her counter when I arrive, but the scent of sugar cookies wafts through the cabin. Must be because of her.
Hmm… I could go for some cookies…
Seb can wait.
I make a beeline down the hall and to the right, where the kitchen table is covered in several sheet pans, all of which are topped with cookies of various shapes: pumpkins, ghosts, skulls, and cats. They’re all coated with sprinkles — those sugary ones that kinda look like glittery flakes rather than pellets— which are a mixture of black, purple, and orange in color.
“Whoa,” I murmur.
I want one.
“You touch any of those, you die,” a slightly gravelly and intimidating, albeit loving, voice warns from my left. As if she read my mind…
I look up to the source and see Robin turned towards the counter, adorning plaid green pajama pants and a plain white tee beneath a deep red apron. I smile at the sight of some cute bunny slippers covering her feet.
“Cause of death?”
“Me.”
“I need specifics.” I join her as I speak, leaning my elbows onto the one clean-ish spot on the countertop and watching from the sidelines while she struggles to hand-cut shapes into this next batch of dough. I’ve got no idea what she’s aiming for, considering it looks like she’s just shredding it up.
Unless that’s the point… to be, y’know, avant garde or whatever.
Clearly frustrated, she puts the knife down and crumbles the substance back into a ball before rolling it flat. “How about a stabbing?” she finally suggests.
I wash my hands and make a point to hum, as though I’m thinking real hard. I come to the conclusion of, “It's worth the risk,” as I dry off and steal a second knife from their block. “What are you trying to make?” I ask, subtly offering some help.
She doesn’t oppose, scooting over a little to spare me some room. “Spiderwebs.”
“Sounds complicated…” I tilt my head, scrutinizing the dough while trying to imagine how to make this work. “The shapes you have aren’t enough?” I ask, nodding slightly towards the table.
“No,” she scoffs. “Jas and Vincent are little snobs with sweets, I tell ya…”
Robin leans an elbow on my shoulder and places her other hand on her hip. I notice now that her nails, which are usually bare, are alternating between black and orange paint. So festive!
“Are you icing them?”
“The kids?”
I snort. “Not what I had in mind.”
She answers more seriously, “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“But what if you…” I shimmy her off me and carve out a spiky ball — like one of those pow! bubbles from comic books. “…do something like this, then ice the web onto it?”
Robin’s brows furrow and her lips purse while she glares down at the dough. She looks skeptical.
I tack on, “And you could cover the icing in sprinkles too, so there won’t be any weird biases towards these or the others. At least visually.”
Her brows raise at that, and she tilts as she thinks it out before finally nodding. “Y'know what?” She motions her head to the table and begins copying the shape I made while she says, “You’ve earned yourself a cookie, stab-free.”
Oh fuck yes. I triumphantly pump my fist through the air. She chuckles, bumping her hip into me as if to shoo me away.
I grab my victim, a still-warm pumpkin. “Y’don’t want more of my expertise?” I ask before chomping down. God damn, this is a good cookie.
“Not anymore,” the redhead responds, “unless you wanna help me ice these things.”
“I can!” I slowly back out of the kitchen, stealing an extra treat — a cat — while she’s distracted. The troll toll. “Just call for me when they’re outta the oven or whatever and I’ll come back up.”
“Might take you up on that.” Although Robin responds cheerily, she still doesn’t look up. She’s locked in.
Leaving the woman to her devices, I make my way to her son’s lair.
I knock. A grunt grants me access. When I open the door, I notice the room is silent, save for some breathing and the whirring computer fans. It looks empty, too.
“Uh…” My eyes scan the space while I step inside, shutting the door behind me and biting into the second cookie.
I wrap around to the front of Seb’s desk. He’s leaning against it, his face resting in his forearms and a blanket draped over his shoulders. Beside him are several energy drink cans and a coffee mug. All drained.
“Long night?”
He grunts again.
“You at least get all your work done?” I ask after finishing my second cookie, and then softly massage my thumbs into his upper back. He lets out a sigh of relief before nodding.
I guess he really crammed as much as he could, for better or worse.
“Let’s get you to bed, love.”
“Gotta get ready…” he mumbles.
“You have, like, 5 or 6 hours! Sleep a little bit. Take some care of yourself, for fuck’s sake.”
Another grunt.
“Pleeease?”
Another one… and he reluctantly gets up.
He trudges his way to his bed and flops down on top of it before groaning once more. I laugh through my nose, follow him over, and then crouch down beside his bed and close to his face.
“Want me to stay? Orrr I can come back later and do your makeup or something..?”
“Yeh,” he slurs against his pillow.
Running my fingers through his hair, I giggle at his non-answer and contemplate my day leading up to the sewer party for a sec.
I could go be lazy at home, or be lazy here. Or, I could see if Sam, Abby or Leah wanna hang out, maybe. Although, Leah is probably busy getting ready for tonight. I have no idea what Sam or Abby would be doing around now, but from what I can tell, Leah has big plans for her and Elliot’s costumes. Wouldn’t tell me what they’re going as, only that they’re a duo.
I didn’t really think through what I’d do if my plans to simply exist with Seb fell through.
Before I can decide, he’s quietly snoring. Cute. I part his hair and leave a gentle peck against his balmy forehead before standing. Maybe a walk will lead me to my destined outcome. Or something. Or, maybe I could start praying to the spirits to give me their wisdom, or whatever. Idk how they work and I can’t commune with ‘em enough to ask.
Sebby’s PC is still on. I should turn it off, or at least put it to sleep for him…
Not before leaving a little present though.
Hehehhh.
As I plop down in his chair, I open up his browser, and then YouTube. I settle on a video of a Pokemon walking around with some cute music for ten hours straight, good god; then, for good measure, I make sure to put it on loop — maybe he won’t see it until later in the night! — before putting the PC to sleep, hoping it will still be playing whenever he gets back to it.
I dunno if I’ve ever left Seb’s house while he was asleep before.
This feels weird — like I’m abandoning him, or something.
Hands on my hips, I do a once over of the room.
…Back upstairs we go, I guess!
“What’s the over-under on those things?” I ask once I make it back to the kitchen.
“Is that your hip way of asking how the cookies are doing?”
“Depends, did it sound hip?”
“Sounds dorky.” I feign surprise. Robin tacks on, “Not helping your case.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I can’t hide what I am.”
“They’re alright,” she finally answers, scrubbing a dirty bowl in the sink. “Should be able to tackle ‘em on my own.”
“Sick. See you later, then.”
Robin nods at me as I back out of the room with a wave. “Don’t fall down the mountain on your way… wherever,” she warns.
Turning the wave into a set of finger guns, I spin around. “I’ll do a backflip if I do.”
“So cool!” she sarcastically calls after me.
I blow out a raspberry without turning back to her.
When I finally exit the cabin, I decide to go check out what Abby’s doing. We haven’t really hung out one-on-one, and I’m curious how that would go.
Unfortunately, as I approach the decline into town, I spot a bunch of barriers.
“Fuuuuuck,” I groan.
I’d forgotten that Magnus specified that, if you don’t live near the town square, he and Linus won’t allow you in that area ‘til it’s all set up.
He emphasized that it included me. Because I’d be a distraction, or whatever.
…It is a little flattering that he’d be distracted by my simply being there, in its own way. But now that I’ve set my heart on not going home, it’s a bit annoying to have to deal with this.
Sighing, I make my way towards the backwoods. So much time to kill until he’s done and I can get my own costume started up. Ugh.
…Unless..?
A probably definitely dangerous thought invades my head, and before I can tell myself it’s a dumb idea that I shouldn’t even think about doing, my feet are picking up their pace.
I’m gonna have to do a little breaking and entering for my activity of choice, but luckily, I know how to pick locks. Don’t ask how. S’not important.
_______________
“I should be mad at you, you know.”
“Buuut…?”
Magnus sighs, picking up a short, white strand of hair between his fingers. “I’m proud that you managed this on your own.”
I flash him a pointy, shit-eating grin. With the exception of a few things, one example being that my hair is shoulder-length and wavy rather than long and straight like it was yesterday, my solo transformation went exactly as planned.
“Please refrain from doing this without my guidance in the future, though.”
A little embarrassed, I avert my gaze. “Sorry, sorry, yeah… That was stupid.”
“Extremely! You could have gotten hurt.”
“I know—”
“This altar shows little mercy for those it deems untrusting,” he cuts me off to emphasize his point, “You could have been mangled by the damned thing.”
I blink dumbly, trying to imagine what that would feel like. “Would it really—“
“Yes!” Magnus huffs out a half-hearted laugh. “When I came down here and heard it in use my heart nearly expelled itself from my chest.” Not my best idea, after all. Who woulda thunk... “To enter my home unprompted I can overlook with ease because it’s you, my love, but you must not do this again.” As he speaks, he motions his arms to the shrine. I’ve never seen him so animated.
I sigh, shut my eyes, and nod. “I promise I won’t do it again.” I softly offer, “I’m really sorry, Magnus,” feeling stupid as ever. It’s times like this where I remember he has over a hundred years of experience on me — of life on me.
He sighs himself. “It’s alright, I’m— I’m just happy you’re safe.” He cups my face in his hands. Inspects it, his thumbs rubbing my cheeks. “These golden freckles are lovely.”
“Huh!” I grin, placing my hands on his.
“Yet another lovely artistic liberty from the shrine?”
I nod my answer and pat a kiss to one of his palms. “You think I’ll really pass as an elf down there?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“Love the vote of confidence,” I snort.
Magnus smiles, warm as ever. “You’ll be fine, dear.” He slides his hands into mine. “Ready?”
Nervous, my voice wavers a little as I confirm. I shut my eyes, and a moment later, the air is damp and thick, with — to my delight — no more than a mild musk to its scent. Almost kinda smells like ferrets down here.
“Here we are,” Magnus murmurs as I open my eyes.
I have to hold back some giddy shimmying as I scan our surroundings. There are purple lights strung around the tiled walls — I guess string lights are just popular with elementals? That, or Magnus and Krobus just have similar taste — and fog machines emitting purpley-grey clouds are scattered around the perimeter.
In the nasty greenish water to our left is a boat with a mouse-like creature selling something from it. They have a little hat on, and they’re waving their tiny arms around trying to get the attention of nearby partiers.
I hope that fella makes some good sales!
Across the way on our right is a large archway, leading to what unfortunately looks like a makeshift pool.
In the sewer sludge.
I hope elementals are immune to any sorts of sickness they can get from that, because that’s fuckin’ nasty.
Festive music is playing over a speaker… somewhere, and it’s currently on none other than Monster Mash. A bunch of shadow people are dancing to it, while others are playing some sort of party game.
There are some shadow people existing as they are, while others are dressed an awful lot like the people from around Pelican Town. One has a full-blown Haley cosplay on, with some balloons shoved in their shirt to give themself boobs. I wonder how much spying they had to do to nail her look… I wonder how they got clothes that match hers so perfectly, too.
Burglary, perhaps?
The drama!
This entire thing feels like something straight out of a cheesy 90’s or 2000’s Spirit’s Eve movie. It’s so cute and cool and whimsical and oh my god, I’m so happy right now.
Magnus squeezes my palm. “There they are!”
I look at him to see what he’s talking about, and then follow his line of vision to a shadow person headed our way. They’re about my height, maybe an inch or two taller, which renders them much shorter than the others here from what I can tell. They’re much more round than the rest, too — not quite as human-shaped, for lack of better phrasing. They have a large red bow tie around what I’m assuming is their neck area, and their eyes are lined with shimmery silver makeup.
They catch my stare and lock eyes with me. I smile and offer a timid wave. Their eyes dart away.
Maybe they’re shy, too?
“Krobus!” Oh!! It’s them! “How are you, my friend?” Magnus asks, crouching down to hug them.
Krobus meets him in a tender embrace, a soft flush on their cheeks while they grin, “I’m well. Thank you for coming!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that much.” Magnus puts a hand on my shoulder before introducing me, “This is the beautiful (y/n) I’ve been telling you about.”
I’m never a fan of being put on the spot like this. My cheeks warm up — I wonder what color my blush is, with my skin already being pink as an elf? — as I wring my antsy hands behind my back. “Nice to meet you, Krobus!”
“Y-you too,” they nod. “Magnus told me you had to disguise yourself,” they add quietly. “It looks very pretty and authentic.”
My smile widens — partially because of their compliment, and also because of how matter-of-factly they talk — as I shyly look down at myself, giving my new form another once-over. “Oh, thanks!”
I look back at them, and feeling compelled to compliment back, I tell them their makeup looks nice. The corners of their mouth turn up slightly, the flush returning to their cheeks.
“I only came to say ‘hello’ — I must return to my game of Pin the Nose on the Goblin. It’s most likely my turn by now,” they say to us both.
Their game of what?!
“Let me know if you need anything. Please feel free to purchase a mask from the rodent of unusual cuteness if you’d like one.” Krobus turns to me and adds, shifting back and forth on their feet, “Um, I also sell rare and exotic goods down here every day. Please stop by, if you’d like, but be aware that I remain silent to honor Yoba on Fridays.” They take a deep breath, seemingly winded from all the talking, before adding, “It still feels strange to talk to a human, but you seem very nice, and I do hope you enjoy your time with us.”
Oh my god they’re adorable.
I nod, doing my best to contain my excitement. “Thank you, I really appreciate that. A-and thanks for having us!”
“Indeed,” Magnus chimes in, his own smile lighting up the room. Pipes? Whatever. “Your gatherings are always something to look forward to. Please, go have fun.”
Krobus nods at us both, then bows before scurrying away.
Magnus can tell how endeared I am already. “Enchanting, aren’t they?”
I nod vigorously. “Dude I don’t even know what to do with myself, this is so cool!” I turn towards him, a little bit of a bounce in my toes and a subtle flap in my hands. “I’m—“ I cut myself off, noticing Magnus stifling laughter. “What?”
He breaks. His own giggles are infectious as ever, as I find myself joining in. I don’t even know what we’re laughing at. He just sounds so stinkin’ cute.
“Your ears,” he manages. “They’re very expressive today.”
I reach up to feel them. As I do, I notice a bit of a downward turn to them. “Did they do this yesterday?” I question with my brows furrowed. My smile swiftly comes back as I speak, feeling them ebb with my words.
“No!” He reaches down to feel one and I can’t help but lean into the touch. “They were as stiff as ever.”
“Huh…” I reach for them again as we begin to advance into the party, mesmerized.
I think about how I really, really wish I could just stay like this without consequence. Being an elf is so fun, man.
…Then, my face (and ears) droop. “Ah, shit.”
“Hm?”
“How am I gonna explain that during the town’s Spirit’s Eve thing?”
Magnus goes quiet as we slow to a halt. “You… huh.”
I tilt my head and bring my knuckles to my mouth. Not sure if it was on purpose, but Magnus does the same, pairing the action by hugging his other arm across his ribs.
We think in silence for a few moments, before he suggests, “Perhaps the ‘prosthetics’ move with your ears?”
“Do my ears ever usually move?”
He winces. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“…They do now I guess.”
“If it comes down to it, it can be a ‘trick of the light.’”
“That definitely won’t work.”
“Can’t say I didn’t try,” he mumbles with a little bit of sass, shrugging.
I quietly chuckle at Magnus’ aloofness. He’s usually so much more formal, even when he’s relaxed, or when he’s not necessarily trying to be. It’s honestly super fucking attractive to see this slight change in his demeanor.
Maybe it’s because he’s around so many other elementals? He’s told me plenty about how magic feeds off magic, people are naturally drawn to magic, all that jazz…
“I don’t suppose you have any fancy spell to make them not expressive, do you?” I ask, shoving that thought away. Focus, lady, we’ve gotta think of an alibi.
“Not that I can think of, no.”
I huff, letting it go. Immediately dropping that focus. “I’ll figure it out later.”
“Oh my gosh!” a spectral, androgynous voice calls from nearby. Magnus beams at someone behind me, and when I turn, the shadow person dressed like Haley is completely fawning over me, oh wow. “Rasmo, you sly duggy, who is this little elf you have here?!” Their eyes are practically sparkling as they inspect me, crouching for a closer look.
He pulls me close, and I melt into the familiar touch, grinning up at him as he introduces me to them. They’re very excited to find out I’m his soul mate, and I learn soon that while those aren’t very relevant to shadow people, this one in particular does enjoy a good love story.
After some prompting from them, Magnus bullshits his way through how we met, making up a tale of childhood friendship, and the spirits bringing us together again and blah, blah, blah.
I make sure to ask him in his head at one point if shadow people know how unlikely it is for an elf to be a time-partner to another elf, in case he forgot about that in his excitement to… show me off, so to speak. He’s got it covered, though — they don’t tend to know much about traditions outside of their own. If they do ask — fuck it, we’re that rare one in a million now.
In short, we’re fine and dandy.
The next hour or so follows the same formula:
A shadow person who knows Magnus comes up to us, gets all excited to see him with someone new, and I sit there and take a bunch of compliments while trying not to hide behind Magnus from the overwhelm of being perceived by so many. Then, I do my best to keep up as they catch up with one another. Apparently it’s very rare Magnus meets up with most of these people.
It’s… a lot.
I did enjoy this for a little in the beginning, because obviously I’m going to have a blast interacting with a whole new species and learning about a new culture up close. This shit is fascinating! But in the end, it’s no different for me mentally than talking to this many human people.
I can only handle so much.
After plenty of socializing, browsing the wares of the merchant (who calls themself The Hat Mouse, oh my god!), and trying a few rounds of Pin the Nose on the Goblin, we finally find ourselves with some downtime, so we sit near the “pool” and gather our bearings together.
“This is more tiring than I thought it would be,” I murmur against Magnus’ arm.
“We can leave if you’d like,” he suggests. “You do have an entire second event to attend, after all.”
“Yeah, that would be nice…” I sigh, closing my eyes and letting the feeling of his large hand rubbing circle on my lower back soothe me. “For what it’s worth, this was still fucking great.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, dearest.” He leans over to kiss my head, then attempts to lean his cheek against it. Our height difference makes it hard, so I give him some space to accommodate that.
It doesn’t work. Now we’re just awkwardly sitting like a foot apart and smooshing our heads together.
As soon as we make eye contact from our awkward angles, I break. “Pfft—“
He snorts into my hair, his warm breath fanning my scalp beneath it.
It’s rare I get to see Magnus so genuinely carefree. He’s always thinking about or working with magic in one way or another. And that’s obviously not a bad thing, but all in all, the arcane as a whole is still within the realm of work for him. It’s been really nice to see him get to simply exist like anyone else today.
I can only hope that at some point he’ll be able to let loose in this same way with the people around the valley, too.
Chapter Summary: Spirit’s Eve shenanigans part 2 - the event.
Author’s Note: See the comments for a little bonus snippet~
Table of Contents + Work Summary
Check it out on ao3!
Prev | Next
Naked, we both rush to the bathroom.
I pee and do my best to clean all the Seb Residue™ off and outta me, while Seb wipes off the bits of red lipstick that look out of place off of his mouth and the skin around it; and then while I wipe off all my lipstick and grab his clothes, fangs and cape for him, he applies that black lipstick he was hoping for, puts on some more deodorant, and brushes his hair.
Since the shrine didn’t give my hair any oomph, I tie some of it half-up into a braid while Seb gets dressed. It’s super soft and easy to work with like this.
While I’m braiding, I wonder if our beloved fish son has any opinions on having to watch us bang.
Right in front of his salad!
Can fish food even be considered salad..? I dunno what it’s made of.
I’m sure it can be.
When I’m finished, I top him up with a snack and decide that it’s salad now. Gerard is so health conscious, wow!
Seb and I don’t dare to say a word, not wanting to distract each other while we get ready — we just focus on being as not-fucked out as we possibly can, and looking presentable. By the time we’re both done, we hear another knock.
We jog to the door to meet whoever’s there. It turns out to be Maru.
“Oh!”
I think we startled the poor girl by just flinging the door open in her face like that. She puts a hand over her chest, as if to soothe her heart. Oops.
She looks adorable — her costume is just a simple black cat, but rather than going the sexy route with it, she’s wearing a black onesie with a puffy tail sewn onto it and some mittens. The hood is down, she has cat ear clip-ons in her hair, and she drew a little triangular nose, freckles and whiskers onto her face.
“Cute costume!” I smile, trying not to fawn a little. She may be, what, 19? 20? But I almost feel like I want to protect her right now...
“Thank you! Yours too, wow.” Recouped, she continues to Seb, “Um. Dad is pretty mad… he almost came down here himself but I went ahead of him.”
“Of course,” he rolls his eyes. “When isn’t he pissed at me?”
Maru shrugs awkwardly. It’s probably so weird for her, being Demetrius’ clear favorite and trying to talk to Seb about him... and on the other side of things, I know it’s hard for Seb to constantly be in Maru’s shadow. I don’t blame him for feeling some resentment towards her.
He sighs. “Thanks for taking over. That was cool of you.”
He holds up a fist for her to bump. She smiles shyly, returning it. She shifts on her feet a little, and adds, “I’d just try to avoid him, if you can. He’s a little mad at everyone today, actually.”
“I’m willing to bet you’re safe from him.”
“Seb…” I nudge him with my elbow, furrowing my brows.
I get that it’s hard but god damn, she can’t help it if Demetrius is gonna favor her so much!
His sister peers down at her feet, silent. Probably doesn’t know what to say to that; probably can’t deny it, but doesn’t wanna lie.
Seb shuts his eyes to recoup for a sec. “Shit, I’m… I’m sorry.” Sighs again and adds, “I know it’s not your fault. Didn’t mean to be a dick.”
Atta boy.
She smiles up at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I dunno what happened for him to be mad at mom, but is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Maru replies, her voice quiet. “I couldn’t tell you why she’s so down, but I can tell it’s because of dad because he isn’t talking to her.”
Seb rolls his eyes. “‘Course…”
“Um,” I butt in, feeling timid.
I’ve rarely ever spoken to Maru, and the few times I have, it’s always turned into stuff that’s hard to understand for my dumb idiot baby brain, like her research and inventions. It’s super cool but man if I don’t feel confused every time.
That said, it feels weird to talk about their family squabbles with her, but…
“She told me earlier,” I continue when they’re both looking at me. I keep my eyes low and focused on nothing in particular, avoiding eye contact. “He doesn’t want to go into town, and doesn’t wanna wear the matching stuff she bought him.”
“Ohhh… That’s— damn it. He didn’t wear it.”
My shoulders slump. “Seriously?” I frown.
Maru nods, half-shrugging, “He just has an old hazmat suit on,” adds on for Seb, “The same one he wore in that weird rain we got a few summers ago. It still has some green stains on it…” and tacks on in a mumble, “At least it’s festive, I guess.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at the man. Poor Robin…
I look at Seb, whose jaw is tight. He’s holding back something. I don’t want him to have to, but at the same time, I don’t want him getting into a whole thing with Demetrius. Based on what he’s told me, their fights don’t sound pretty.
“Let’s just go,” he sighs, nodding at the stairs.
Maru nods and runs up, and we follow closely behind. Her tail nearly tickles my face.
When we get outside, Demetrius is waiting with clear impatience. Robin stands nearby, tupperwares of cookies in hand, still upset as ever.
Luckily, Demetrius doesn’t say anything snarky when he sees Seb. He just makes a show of sighing, turns around, and begins walking down into the town. For a moment, none of us follow. Maru winds up being the first to go.
When she leaves, I meet Robin’s eyes and try to cheer her up, reenacting the punches I did earlier. A silent offer for me to kick his ass (for real this time!). I’m happy to see the corners of her lips upturn and the apples of her cheeks plump up in response.
“The fuck are you doing?” Seb laughs.
“Don’t worry about it, toots.”
“Toots?” Robin chimes in.
“I said what I said.”
_______________
Abby, Sam, and Victor — a knight in bulky armor, with her helmet tucked under her arm; a beautiful princess, I’m assuming to be saved by Abby, from… something; and another vampire, in the same cheesy outfit as Seb but without makeup, respectively — are totally gobsmacked when they see Seb and I.
While Victor is bantering with Seb about their matching look amongst other topics, Abby and Sam gawk at me.
“Can you… like… not?” I shyly ask. I can only look around and pretend to be people watching to avoid their stares for so long.
“The fuck do you mean ‘Can I not?’” Abby argues, “How in the hell did you do that?!”
“Did you, like, dye your skin?” Sam reaches out to touch my forehead with a nosy finger, but I jump away.
“Makeup,” I lie, “Looots of makeup. Can’t touch it much or it’ll just rub right off.”
“What about the hair?”
Abby nudges him with her elbow. “Ever heard of wigs, dumbass?”
“That’s a sick wig, though! Like, holy crap.”
“It is pretty nice,” she agrees, emphasizing the T’s in the word “pretty.” “Must’ve been hella expensive.”
“Hella?” I pry, scrunching my nose. “The 2010s want their slang back, bozo.”
“Oh, bite me.” I bite the air in her direction, and she flinches back, laughing. “Down, girl!”
I cross my arms. “I’m an elf, not a puppy,” I grump.
“Dog ears would be kinda…”
Abby groans. “Saaam, dude, please don’t do this.”
“I mean…” he shrugs, attempting the signature Byrne eyebrow waggle, and failing yet again.
“Down, boy!” I laugh, feebly swatting at him.
He turns it into a pseudo-handshake, swatting back a few times before dapping me up. We finish it with a fist bump.
Abby fake-coughs out the word “Simp.”
The simp in question replies with great speed, “Says you.”
“The fuck you mean ‘says me?’”
I tease, “You’re big on questioning the integrity of your friends’ words tonight.”
“I’m a knight. Isn’t that a cop, in a way?”
“Acab.”
“That’s my girl!” Seb temporarily cuts in. Victor and I bark out a laugh before they continue their conversation.
“Does that make this an interrogation?” I go on through some residual giggles.
“Uh, yup.”
“It’s our right to remain silent then!”
“Yeah!” Sam agrees. “We’re sticking it to the man!”
“Neither of you have a stick,” Abby quips, unsheathing her toy sword and wagging it at us.
“Well, y’know…” I trail off, giving Sam a quick up-and-down. Him and I share a shitty grin with each other before flashing ‘em to Abby.
Sam finishes my sentence, “One of us does.”
She puts the sword away. “Groooss,” she whines, face palming. Sam and I laugh about it, being the mature gentlepeople we are, and exchange yet another a fist bump. “I’m getting punch, you guys want any?”
“Hell yeah,” Sam responds while I nod.
“I’ll help,” I offer, scurrying closer to Abby.
“Sick. What about you two?” she asks a little louder to get Seb and Victor’s attention.
“Huh?” Seb asks.
“Punch?”
They answer in unison, “Yeah, sure.”
“Jinx!”
“You can’t say ‘jinx’ for other people, Sam.”
“Then why was I able to do it just now?”
Abby and I snort, her rolling her eyes too as we walk away from their silly argument…
And right over to Pam, who’s pouring, like, a gallon of vodka into the punch bowl! God damnit, Pam!
We both sigh.
“I mean,” I mutter, shrugging sheepishly, “I’m down for it.”
“You sure, tipsy?”
“Tipsy?” I snort, handing her some orange plastic cups as Pam walks away with her thoroughly boozed bev.
“Yeah, ‘cause you get tipsy so fast.”
I groan. “Please don’t make that a thing.”
“Okay, Tipsy.”
I bump her hip with mine. “Ow,” I wince on contact. “Real metal, or something?”
She simply winks at me.
…Huh?
Is it real or not, Ab?
I’ve gotta know how heavy that shit is if it’s real.
Is Abby, like, jacked or something?
Still ignoring my question, she wiggles a cup expectantly.
I move on. “Sure, why not?”
Abby tastes a sip. “Fuckin’— Yoba, Pam!” she whisper-yells. “This is why not.”
She hands me the drink and I give it a sniff.
Oh my god.
I take a sip.
Oh my—
“God!”
Abby stifles a laugh, continuing to scoop punch into the other cups. “How the fuck did your ears do that?”
I guess they moved. Shit, what did Magnus suggest?
“Uh…” oh god, oh fuck, “trick of the light..?”
“That’s not how ears work, lady.”
“They do now, I dont fuckin’ know.” I take a hefty sip of punch. Sure as hell need it.
Lucky for me, she just laughs it off with a weird look. I give her one back, and she laughs a little harder.
I could swear I see a little bit of a blush on her cheeks as she observes me for a moment longer than necessary, but she puts her helmet on, hiding her complexion and giving herself the hands to carry this stuff. She handles two of the drinks while I maneuver the other three into my grasp.
Handing Seb and Victor their drinks while Abby gives Sam his, I tell them, “Dink up, gamers.”
Now that I’m passing off a drink to Vic, it’s like he’s seeing my costume for the first time. His eyes bug for a sec, “How the hell—“
“Don’t worry about it.” I shoot him a finger gun with my free hand and wink before downing another sip of punch.
He doesn’t question it. Just nods and shrugs.
It’s honestly nice that he pays less attention to me and my looks than the others. There’s a lot less pressure to exist, in a way, around him. Not that the usual attention isn’t flattering, but like, never in a gazillion years did I think I’d move to a small town like this and have a bunch of pretty people totally smitten by me, y’know?
I wonder if, being in the city for so long now, Victor is just used to seeing people way cuter than me. Maybe I’m a 10 here but a 3 or 4 there. Or maybe I’m just not his type…
For fuck’s sake — listen to me, wondering how it’s possible that he’s the only person in this group who isn’t attracted to me. Has my ego really been inflated that much?
Whatever. Either way, I'm glad at least one of my friends isn’t romantically or sexually interested in me, at least that I know of.
Seb wraps an arm around my back and pulls me in front of him. Nearly coughs the damn drink onto my head a few seconds later.
“Pam?” he asks.
“Pam.”
“Paaam,” Victor lilts approvingly, nodding slowly and with a shit-eating grin before downing his whole cup.
“Fucking hell, dude!”
“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Abby begins chanting.
“I mean, I already did,” Victor points out, rubbing his neck.
Fuck. He remembered to put faux bite marks on it.
I shoulda given Seb some of my own, heheh—
No. Down, girl.
Abby challenges him, “Chug more.”
Victor puts his hands up in mock defense. “Fine, I guess I’ll do it. Only ‘cause you’re forcing me to.” Then he walks away, empty cup in hand ready to be refilled.
“Hey,” Seb murmurs near my ear while Abby and Sam goad Victor on. His breath and low voice send a chill down my spine.
“W-what’s up?”
“Maze?”
“Oh fuck yeah, let’s go.”
The emo man takes me by the hand and we make our escape, disappearing into the hedges. While we navigate our way through, he explains the concept: get through before anyone else, and you win a huge, golden pumpkin. Nobody knows why it’s so special, but most people seem eager to get it.
If you were to give it to anyone, it’s a sure-fire way to get in their good graces. The whole thing sounds like a silly town tradition, like bouquets, but I love the whimsy of it.
Only a few turns later, we pass Harvey, who’s all but cowering a few paces away from some hay bales.
Doctor Haywood, more like Doctor Scared-Of-Hayw— I’m sorry, that one barely even makes sense…
Seb encourages him, raising his glass (well, plastic), “Hang in there, doc.”
He replies with a shaky thumbs-up.
We continue on, weaving our way through a mixture of fake and real spiders, some subdued (but still intimidating) monsters, and a fake-out pumpkin patch, before arriving at a dead end occupied by a Baba Yaga-lookin’ hut with feet.
“Coulda sworn this was the right way,” Seb mutters.
I look around, trying to spot any paths we could take. I’ve got nothing.
“Need help?”
“Oh god!“ I jump, startled.
“You got that too, right?”
“Ye— Wait, he can talk to more than one person at a time telepathically?”
“I can with some effort.”
“Where the fuck are you?!” Seb laughs.
“Look to the cliffs.”
Seb and I both turn, scanning for him. With nothing but the darkness and our stupidity to blame, it takes a few seconds to notice him – he’s practically right above us, sitting back on his hands with Linus cross-legged at his side. He waves while Magnus offers a warm smile, and I smile at them both, nudging Seb.
I think out loud, “Guess it makes sense why you could hear us.”
He winks. Cute… “Unless I was simply reading your mind again.”
I fake astonishment with a fist on my chest clutching at imaginary pearls. “You wouldn’t dare!” I proclaim, trying to sound like a generic damsel in distress from an old film.
“He would,” Seb points out.
“I would,” Magnus agrees, nodding.
“Whatever, man.” I take a long sip of my punch, definitely beginning to feel the effects. I wince a little at the sting it leaves behind.
“Are you alright?” Linus asks, having noticed.
After shaking off the feeling a bit with Seb patting at my back and quietly chuckling to himself, I nod.
A one-word explanation should do. “Pam.”
“Pam…” Linus nods sagely.
Magnus looks a little confused. “Pam?”
“She spikes the punch at, like, every town gathering,” Seb explains.
“Ohhh.”
“Surprised you haven’t noticed it more,” I poke, “with all your creeping around at these things.”
“Hush, you.”
After a little snicker, I ask, “You want some?” I dunno how to get it to them, but I’m sure we could figure it out.
In lieu of an answer, Magnus holds up a fancy bottle of wine, a lazy, mischievous grin on his face. Linus yoinks it right from his hands and steals a sip. I guess that explains the darkness to both of their cheeks.
“Oh hell yeah.”
“You earned it,” Seb proclaims, vaguely motioning around us. “This is sick.” I enthusiastically nod at the sentiment.
“Indeed we did!” Linus agrees.
“So uh,” Seb moves on, “about that golden pumpkin…”
I look over to see him squiggling his eyebrows around, as he often does. He’s got a slight lil shimmy to his shoulders too this time. Dork.
Magnus smiles knowingly. “What about it?”
“Got any hints?” I interject.
Seb tacks on, “Or answers?”
“Or answers?” I repeat enthusiastically. I mimic the emo’s earlier wiggles, earning a smile from the older men and Seb alike.
“That would be telling.”
“Th—“ I have to stop for a giggle. Pam… “That’s the point!”
“I get it,” Seb laments dramatically, “you hate us.”
I place the back of my hand on my forehead and lean against Sebastian. “M’so hurt I might faint.”
“Spirits save me,” I hear him mutter. His smile betrays the annoyance in his voice.
Linus comes to our rescue! “Try looking more closely at those hedges behind you.” Magnus nods along.
“Not all heroes wear capes.” Seb salutes the white-haired man.
“Thank you, Linus!” I beam, tugging Seb a few paces towards our destination. He goes along with me, laughing at my enthusiasm. “Love you, Maggg,” I add in a sing-songy tone.
“Since when do you call him Mag?” Seb questions, his nose scrunched.
I shrug. “How d’ya feel about Maggy then?”
Magnus answers, “Please, no,” while Seb and Linus both shake their heads, Linus laughing as he does so.
I lazily swing a defeated snap in front of me. “Damn.”
“And I love you too, little elf,” Oh?! Magnus adds on, waving. “Good luck, you two.”
That nickname was so cute! It feels different hearing it from him, versus all the shadow people who called me the same.
God I wish I was always an elf.
Too giddy to respond, I beam back at him before scurrying away.
“Little elf does it for ya, huh?” Seb asks once we’re alone again. His voice is smooth and he takes his hand from mine to place it atop my head and frick it all makes me fucking melt.
Sometimes I forget he can just, like, sense my heart rate and shit. Wizards, man…
“Shuddup.” Comes out as a squeak.
“Is that who I think it is?” I hear Sam yell from somewhere nearby.
“No,” Seb lies.
“First they abandon us,” Abby goes on, “and then they lie. Bastards.”
Victor cries, “For shame!”
“Gonna have to catch up if you want an apology,” Seb calls out.
“You won’t just apologize because I’m an innocent little guy?” Abby pouts. I can’t see it but I’ll be damned if I can’t hear the frown in her voice. “You wouldn’t upset a little guy, would you?”
“I would.”
“Yeah I would too.”
Seb scoffs, “(Y/n) you are a little guy.”
“My point stands.”
“Betrayed by my own kin!” Abby laments.
“For shame!” Vic repeats with more force.
“You sound more knightly than vampirey when you say that, y’know,” I respond.
“And y’sound more like a squeaky toy than elfily..? Elfly..?” Sound it out buddy! “Elfy,” he decides.
“Yeeowch,” Sam narrates, “a critical hit!”
“Goodbye,” Seb laughs, tugging me along. I stumble a little, but he helps me stay upright.
Pam.
By time we find the pumpkin, let’s fucking go, the others catch up to us, somehow. They must’ve been booking it.
“Dude, dude,” Abby greets us with urgency.
I’m surprised she didn’t immediately mourn the loss of the golden pumpkin.
Behind her, Victor has his eyes locked in on the pumpkin in Seb’s embrace. Sam is next to him, just kinda admiring the scenery.
Abby places a palm on mine and Seb’s shoulders. “You’ll never guess who I just saw.”
“Try me,” Seb retorts while I tilt my head.
“You remember that dude from the tower in the woods?” Oh no. “He’s here.”
How did she not see him at the fair earlier in the season?
Whatever.
I wonder if she noticed he’s a whole different color palette now. Sure, Spirit’s Eve is a good excuse and all, but I almost kinda hope she just couldn’t make out the details of his appearance in the dim lighting of his garden to begin with.
Feeling slightly more than tipsy — living up to the girl’s new name for me, I fucking guess — I trip on my own thoughts, trying to figure out a response.
Luckily, Seb jumps in. “He does live here, you know.”
“Well fuckin’ duh, but why have I never seen him around before? What’s his deal?”
“T’be fair, he helps Linus set this up every year,” I state. “You’ve gotta just look outside more often.”
“Really?” She squints, “Wait— How do you know that?”
“I…” shit, shit, “I went back to his house. To apologize!”
Big mistake.
“Aaand that makes you close enough for him to tell you about stuff like that now?”
“I mean… uh.” I’m flubbing this, and if I had to guess by his silence, Sebastian is pretty stuck too. “I guess we’re friends now, yeah, I’unno. I’ve gone over there a bunch at this point.”
“And you just knew about this?” Abby grills Seb, crossing her arms. It seems like Sam and Victor’s interests have been piqued by now.
“We… are gonna have to explain everything to them if we can’t save ourselves somehow, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” Seb answers both Abby and myself.
“And you didn’t stop her?!” Sam frowns. Fuck, that’s right — he was there for the conversation about me going on my own in the first place. “What if he’s some kind of psycho?”
“He’s—” Seb sighs, rubbing the corners of his eyes, smudging his makeup a little more than I had earlier. “He’s not.”
“Yeah?” Abby rebukes. “How would you know?”
“I already knew him.”
Oh, okay, we’re doing this I guess.
“So… you lied, then?”
Abby looks genuinely hurt. Fuck.
Sometimes I forget that, even if she isn’t hostile towards me anymore, she still probably has lingering feelings for Seb. He was everything to her until recently, after all. Maybe he still is, but she’s just grown or something.
“Did you know that he knew the guy?” she asks me. Still sounds hurt, but her voice has hardened a considerable amount.
“No!” I frown, worrying the rim of my cup with my thumb nails. “Not until after meeting him.” It’s not completely wrong… I met Magnus before Seb spilled about their past to me. She doesn’t have to know.
Abby seems to not know where to look, and opts to stare at the helmet in her embrace. It’s almost like she’s just as upset about being left out of this new, weird trio of ours as she is about being lied to, which I can empathize with. Shit sucks…
God. We’re a pair of real dickheads, aren’t we? I knew the weird friendship quest I was on would be as sleezy as it felt. It was stupid of me to follow through with it all that time ago.
Selfishly, part of me is still glad I did, because now I’m friends with her. There’s less drama. Less fear that she’s gonna go, like, totally apeshit on me for dating someone she was either in love with or obsessed with — maybe both? — for so long.
She really is friendly and sweet and fun to be around when she doesn’t have it out for you, and I’m happy to know this side of her.
Also, maybe I would’ve never gone to Magnus’ tower if this hadn’t happened. Maybe I wouldn’t even know him right now, and maybe he and Seb would’ve never reconnected. It would just be weighing on both of their consciences forever while I’d never meet my literal soulmate.
That would suck.
I shut my eyes for a moment and sigh, trying to sober up my thoughts. “M’sorry for not telling you sooner,” I offer softly.
“Yeah, me too,” Seb adds. “Look, if you want I can fill you in on everything some other time, but… let’s just enjoy the night for now, yeah?”
“Yeah, enjoy the night,” Abby scoffs under her breath. She continues at her typical volume, “I’m not sure if I should feel more mad or more jealous right now. Like, what the fuck?”
“Yeah, I… I get it,” I cut in. “You have every right to be mad at us. We didn’t mean to leave y’so out of the loop, though — we didn’t think it mattered.” Realizing that coulda sounded a little insensitive, I quickly tack on, “I mean, he’s just some dude.”
Now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.
How am I getting so good at lying?
God, I suck.
Abby softens a little, part of her seeming to agree, but she still looks upset. She takes a few breaths that seem deeper than usual. Spares a glimpse back at Sam and Vic, who are kinda just awkwardly standing there.
It looks like Sam has something to say too, but he’s keeping his thoughts to himself for now, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look like this before.
…Like, his face, I mean. I’ve never seen him all dolled up in a pink ball gown that’s too small for him either. Obviously.
I pick at the orange plastic in my hands some more while Seb tears up the nail polish on his left thumb with the adjoined pointer.
“You, uh,” I meekly suggest, “you want the pumpkin..?” I pat the gold gourd for emphasis.
A humble peace offering.
“N—“ She cuts off her initial response and thinks about it. Her shoulders deflate while she realizes, “I mean, kinda? Fuck.”
“I’ll take it if you don’t,” Sam mutters.
Victor nudges him. “She didn’t ask you.”
“You’re awfully quiet,” Abby diverts to Seb. I dunno if he’s just frazzled, or if he was brain-talking to Magnus, or what.
“Just, uh… Stressed.”
I nod. Fuckin’ same, dude, whether it’s a lie or not on his part.
More awkward silence passes before I figure out a potential solution.
Maybe… hm.
I clap, newly determined to fix my— our— whoever’s fuck-ups. Seb, Sam and Abby startle while Victor simply waits to see what happens.
“I have a proposition.
“Huh?”
“We can all share the pumpkin.”
Abby tilts her head. “What, like, cut it up?”
“No— well, yes?” I shake my head. “But no.”
“Graceful as ever,” Sam teases me.
“Shut up, you’re into it,” I shoot back. His cheeks redden while he smiles and rolls his eyes. “What if I, I’unno, make something with it? Aaand we can all hang out and eat pumpkin stuff and whatever. Finish off autumn with a bang.”
“Ha. Bang. Kinky.”
“Sam!” I laugh. Victor nudges him for me. Thank you Victor. “I know I don’t have much room at my place,” I go on, “but I’m the only one with my own house, so we can do it there.”
“You drive a hard bargain, lady,” Abby ponders.
“Am I allowed to partake in this pumpkin party?” Victor slurs. He sounds shy, almost, even in his more boisterous, drunken state.
“If you can make it out here, hell yeah.”
“Why don’t we do it tomorrow?” Seb chimes in. “You can stay over at my place if your mom lets you.”
“Or mine,” Sam adds.
Abby and I nod. Victor shrugs and nods too. “I’ll ask when she seems ready to leave later. Maybe She’ll be boozy ‘nuff to let me.”
“Cool,” I breathe.
That broke the tension, but now I have a whole thing to host. Ough.
