#he could also be lying about not liking killing

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

See, the thing is, Grian isn’t lying when he says that the snails aren’t his doing.

He gets why people are saying that; the timeline of him finally getting the stupid book and the snails emerging from the sea line up near-perfectly, as if they were another manic machination of his boredom. It’s also the fact that they just straight up came out of the sea, or at least should’ve- he swears up and down that the pink one shot down from the sky, he saw it with his own two eyes. But, considering he doesn’t control the sky, the pink snail cannot be his doing at the very least. And the teal one? The one that people are calling his snail? He just found it after a particularly stormy night, chilling on the docks, and he found it just so damn cute that he took it as a pet. Both of those aren’t Grian’s fault. They can’t be, by that logic.

But honestly, by now, he’s getting a little worried about the snails, in either case of his innocence with them. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the sanest person on the Hermitcraft server—he’s not sure who is, really, when everyone has their own things going on—particularly within the past few weeks, if the beard and book count as indication. His memory has been a little foggy for a while, so it very well could’ve been him putting snails everywhere, and he just flat-out forgot for one reason or another. Though, that doesn’t seem likely- he’s strong, but not strong enough to haul a giant snail out of the sea and onto a literal freight train, nor does he have the patience to meticulously choose snails that are sturdy enough to replace the wheels. That had to be a meticulous and pre-planned process, something Grian doesn’t really have the time for.

This leaves him with three conclusions: if it is him behind the snail acts, he’s not the only thing occupying his body. If it isn’t, well, there’s still something causing the snails to make their way through the works of Magic Mountain, and it certainly isn’t another hermit, based on their reactions. If it’s a mix of both—considering he’s found himself freeing snails from the cages Scar put them in without remembering how he got there—then the snails aren’t so cute anymore, and Grian’s just about ready to—

To—

He’s just—

Where was he?

Right. The snails. They’re not his doing, pinky promise. Grian got his book, he filled the prophecy, and he’s stopped fishing like it’s his last day on earth. The bit is over. He’s moved on- why would he beat a dead horse into the ground like that? Sure, he can still smell rot wafting from the river, but he’s Gem’s neighbor, and she’s got that whole fish horror thing going on, so it very well could be her. Nevermind the fact that they were eating her lighthouse, and she wouldn't do that to her own hard work. And sure, she came to him when a snail chose her--the way he said it would--but she was probably under the assumption that it was his, just like everyone else. It wasn’t. He’s sure it wasn’t.

The snails would explain his white-hot anger at Scar’s little cooking prank; the way Grian’s skin felt like it was burning every time he looked at the pan. How, despite knowing that his friend was just messing with him, every instinct was telling him to kill him where he stood, no mercy. How it felt like the same seething rage he felt when Scar had fished up a copy of the book weeks prior, and he’d done that very thing. And maybe, just maybe, it would explain how sometimes, on the nights where his dreams are the most vivid and gross, he wakes up in the Chamber, positioned as if in a prayer.

But if it is…

A streak of fear runs up his spine. The weather, despite his dedication to the sea released, is still stormy and grey. The water is still murky and washing slime up onto his shores. The dreams of the book haven’t stopped, despite him clutching it like a rosary on even good days. The whispers of the wind are an angry, menacing thing in his ear. He thought it would be over once he got what he wanted. He thought it would be enough to satisfy whatever the ocean needed from him.

There is a rod in his hands, he realizes. He throws it as far away as he can. It lands next to a clump of snails, who all turn to look at him with an otherworldly menace in their pitch black eyes.

Just what has he released onto his home?

[visenyaism]

Heyy!! What are your thoughts on Jaeherys and Alysanne's daughters?

well when your father looks at you and only sees an incarnation of his own sister-wife because you were put on this earth for him to groom into a future child bride for his sons or summarily disposed of it is a bit of a crazymaking situation.

I think the reason Jaehaerys acted inexplicably genuinely shocked every single time one of his teenage daughters got to marrying age and someone suggested that they get married was because he thought that he was going to be the only man in their lives forever because there is something deeply wrong with him. and then their mom is arranging these crazyass matches with older men to live vicariously through them because she never got to choose a partner, so it really is just a complete and total psychosexual codependency enmeshment nightmare.

-think something had to be extremely wrong with valyrian tradwife never allowed to develop an independent identity Alyssa below the surface. because being named the golden child by responding positively to the grooming telling you to peg your brother and wanting to birth him an entire army of sons before dying at 23 definitely speaks to….something. where else do daemon‘s mommy issues come from

-Daella exists to be a victim and dies giving birth to her daughter who also exists to be a victim. sacrificial lamb parthenogenesis.

-Maegelle got out of everything else simply by being conceived with the explicit intention of being a living tithe. somehow the least crazy situation on this list. 

-I don’t know whether or not it is intentional that Saera is written exhibiting so many of the behaviors indicative of being a CSA victim. hypersexual alcoholic dysregulated fifteen year-old being held down and forced to watch her father chop her boyfriend in half by her mom‘s codependent female bodyguard is an experience you could throw the entire works of Sigmund Freud at and come up lacking. i hope lys was nice.

-Viserra being exiled for absorbing too much of the Targaryen grooming background radiation and getting falling down drunk at 15 before making a move on her brother. this just keeps happening to them. I’m sure it’s a coincidence. insane that Alysanne really felt like she was competing with her own daughter here because I know she was a #boymom with baelon and aemon.

-I think it’s interesting how no one mentions Gael ever again after she kills herself and no one seems to think of her at all given the fact that she’s daemon’s age and presumably would’ve interacted with any of the grandkids. I know it’s because textually she’s just an afterthought, but I think it would be interesting if her yellow wallpaper ass existence and the fact that she is basically a pet for her mother her entire life just sort of renders her posthumously unspeakable. no one wants to talk about what happened to her.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

So, I'm curious: What's your take on Aylin's experience after/if she kills Lorroakan?

Allegedly, there's some information floating around somewhere that said Aylin was angry with Selune after she killed Lorroakan, but I can't find where this info is.

If you saw posts about that here on tumblr it was probably posted by @justanotherignot! I've actually been meaning to gather up all the devnote tidbits about Selûne from Aylin and Isobel for a while now, so thank you for the excuse to do so and ramble a bit.

Player: I was just wondering what it was like in that cage of Balthazar's. Aylin: Let us not dwell on those dark days. Their memory is a vortex within my heart that leads directly to the Hells.

What is happening is, well, it's the century of unthinkable horror catching up to her. It's the Trauma(TM) - in one of the conversation options she's literally triggered by the mention of someone being run through repeatedly! It's the growing awareness that although she's been freed (and possibly reunited with her love), the secret is out and there are always going to be assholes gunning for her, aiming to use her as an "artefact" and power source to fuel their ambitions, without any regard for her, you know... basic personhood and well-being. Also, Lorroakan was blatantly lying. He didn't find any super special way to siphon her immortality with "no harm, no pain of any kind", he was just replicating Balthazar's soul cage (you can even find a letter from Ketheric to him, showing Lorroakan was pestering them).

On to the stuff from the game files! First, the conversation with Aylin directly after the Lorroakan fight in the tower. I'm going to be putting the context notes in square brackets next to the lines they apply to. I also plucked some audio out from the files for some of these because I love the delivery.

Aylin: The fire-haired fool is dead. Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel… sadness. Why? [Slow and curious, angry and confused by all that has happened.] Player: What kind of sadness is it? / I know something of sadness - or at least the ballads do. What does it feel like? Aylin: A gripping in the chest. As though I'd lost someone, something. [Lost in thought for a moment; confused.] Aylin: A paladin's fatigue, no doubt. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side. [Remembering herself. She is Dame Aylin.] Aylin: I will catch my breath, then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you. Player: Smiting is a weighty duty - sometimes it can be tiring. / Perhaps smiting has lost its pleasures. Aylin: Say it can't be so. For I am Selûne's sword. And ever must be. [She means it, but on the periphery of her consciousness is a tiny crack. Wondering about her fate.]

The above never fails to get me - she is Dame Aylin! Sword of the Moonmaiden! Glorious immortal paladin, champion of a righteous cause! She smites evil-doers for breakfast, that's, like, her whole thing! What do you mean she can't just pick up where she left off and go about her merry smitey way? What do you mean the thing that is supposed to be the literal core of her entire being (forever) doesn't feel good and glorious anymore, but just makes her feel sad and empty? No, no, no, we can't have that.

Player: One of the greatest tragedies of revenge is that it can only be taken once. / Because you won't get to kill him again? Aylin: Perhaps. Yet if I could run him through a thousand times, I wonder-- [Lost in thought, she's been triggered to remember her own fate being run through over and over.] Aylin: Battle has tired my mind, made me susceptible to flights of fancy. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side.

Aylin: I will return to camp shortly. I just need a moment to… to… [Lost in thought.]

She so very desperately needs some rest and a chance to come to terms with everything that happened and that was done to her. And it's clear it's going to be hard because she is defaulting to trying to deny anything is wrong, is clearly trying (and failing) to just be her old self immediately, has blatantly internalised a lot of that classic I Am A Sword stuff on top of everything (even though her mother is huge on free will and choice!), and is just really not well-equipped to handle any of this at all.

Next, this is the post-Lorroakan convo you get if you have both Aylin and Isobel in camp.

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just regaling sweet Isobel with tales of our prowess. Isobel: Very impressive. Thank you for helping Aylin - that wizard sounded absolutely dastardly. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - she's not sure why Aylin isn't herself.] Player: My pleasure. He had it coming. Aylin: He did, and it came. Now, my friend: bask in your victory. I will do the same. Aylin: But fear not: when the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Isobel and I will stand by your side. [Rallying her soldierly spirit, but still a little drained.] Isobel: We wouldn't miss it. Not for anything. Aylin: Go well, friend. We will see you soon. And with our great powers combined, this city will be saved. Player: Hopefully he'll be the last. Aylin: There are always more bastards behind bastards. But we will run through them all, each by each.

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: I always do, with darling Isobel by my side. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of Lorroakan's death in your mind like silkfloss.

If Isobel isn't there (meaning she died in Act 2), you get this version:

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just reviewing our fight against foul Lorroakan; your moves and mine. The victory was soundly won. Aylin: Don't you think? [Uncharacteristically, Aylin is seeking input. She's usually so confident about everything, but killing Lorroakan has not had the intended effect on her.] Player: Indeed I do. Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, But she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Player: We fought well - though I was a little worried about you afterward, in truth. Aylin: Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - it's true she's better now than she has been, but why does she feel so shitty, then? (She's in the beginning of reckoning with the trauma of what happened to her).]

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: Yes. I wish for the very same. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of our prowess in your mind like silkfloss.

So, a few things pop out for me here. First, you get the more explicit anger at Selûne if Isobel isn't there, as opposed to the "hahah, I will smite all the bastards who dare come after me, no matter how many there are" line. "How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?" just... damn, hits hard, even if you subscribe to the theory that Selûne simply could not intervene in the Shadowfell imprisonment beyond sending those poor people whose graves you find in front of the mausoleum.

And here Aylin really lays it on thick with the denial that there's anything wrong at all. Combined with the letter you get from her in the epilogue if Isobel is dead, it just paints such a bleak, sad picture. I can just see her going all out on the Sword of Selûne duty-bound paladin side of things, no rest, no healing, no stopping even for a moment, no dealing with anything at all, from the trauma to the bitterness towards mum. Until whatever horrible breaking point comes, a year or a century from now. The need for Isobel's humanising influence is so clear. I've touched on Isobel's side of things here.

Speaking of having a bone to pick with Selûne, if you're playing as a cleric/paladin of Selûne, you can get some extra very honest dialogue with Isobel in Last Light:

Player: Why has the Moonmaiden waited until now to take an interest in this curse? Isobel: Maybe she was waiting for one of us to find this place ourselves. Free will, and all that.

Isobel: Though if it were my place to ask why she let Ketheric turn; why she allowed this village to rot at his hands - believe me, I would. [A cold edge in her voice]

Player: Are you faring all right? It can't be easy holding a lone candle in such darkness. Isobel: All things with her strength. You know the litany. [A little sarcastically. She's got a bone to pick with Selûne but isn't being too overt.]

Side note: the amount of devnotes for Isobel's lines that say she's delivering them "with swagger" and being "cheeky" makes me smile every time. Love her. Love her snark.

Also, to get it out of the way: no, I'm fairly sure Aylin did not break her oath. I see this brought up a ton and I just see no way for it to be the case. There is nothing to suggest this outside of a wording similarity and it just makes no sense. Girl is clearly some flavour of Oath of Vengeance (she uses Abjure Enemy, so this is the case even mechanically, even though she's obviously an NPC and not a standard player-build paladin) and she killed a very shitty guy who was also explicitly after her in godawful ways. You can do far worse things in the game than her dramatic speech and backbreaker and not break you OoV.

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday. 2/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday

A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!

Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?

Warnings: none? I think?

Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)

-5700k words

„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.

You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.

„Wait.." you said,  sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.

„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.

You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now

The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.

But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself. 

It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her. 

 Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.

Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.

Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper.  You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper.  It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship?  Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five. 

Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.

You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected.  "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.

"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.

"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".

After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.

But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.

You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.

Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your  patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.

Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood.  But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil.  "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness. A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.

One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.

You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.

Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.

The day with Sophia didnt end there, it  stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.

But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.

After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.

Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up.  Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore. 

"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.

"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.

"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff  ''You can meet sophia  and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.

You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.

"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.

"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.

"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.

You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’

"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."

''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.

I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”

The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know.  But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.

The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.

The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.

''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying'' 

The words cut deeper than a knife,

before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:

"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.

Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.

Why are you with her?

I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,

so the anger inside of me when I see you with her

is something I'm not allowed to feel.

What I feel, I shouldn't show you.

So when you're around, I don't.

I let you walk away with her.

I know I don't have the right to feel it,

but it doesn't mean I don't."

The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.

Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.

Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue.  Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.

In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.

——————————————————-

"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“

"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation

"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.

Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.

In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie."  His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.

"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.

"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.

Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.

Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 39/39: Closure

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36, Ch 37, Ch 38, Ch 38.5

An alternate universe in which Evelyn managed to save Caleb after his confrontation with Phillip. The two of them escaped to present day through time pools, and have been using time pools to secretly rescue grimwalkers just after Belos attempts to kill them. The story follows Darius' mentor as he adjusts to his new life, as well as changes to the course of canon.

Ao3

Xxx

“I don’t know about this.”

Cyrus tried to turn around, but A.T. caught his shoulders, turning him around, and Phoenix gave him a push towards the townspeople cleaning up wreckage and graffiti. Most importantly, towards the blue demon boy stabilizing a broken wall.

“Do you like him, or no?”

“I mean, yes,” Cyrus replied, “But we went on one sort-of date ages ago, before everything went screwy! What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if he doesn’t even remember it?”

“You were halfway through a date before you were suddenly interrupted and dragged off by your family, and then a wild witch showed up and was chased through the streets,” A.T. reminded him, “How could he forget that date?”

“Yes, but what if the whole concealment stone thing drives him away? What if—if—”

“What if he’s got terrible amnesia?” A.T. suggested, “What if he’s got a new boyfriend? What if I unhinge my jaw and swallow him whole before you have the chance to speak to him?”

“What?” Phoenix and Cyrus asked in unison.

“Exactly, it’s all impossible. Go talk to him.”

Cyrus didn’t look too convinced, but he also seemed too startled by A.T.’s statement to protest, and made his way towards his one-time date. He waved awkwardly, saying something Phoenix couldn’t hear. The demon left his work, dusting his hands off, and tilting his head in a question. Cyrus pulled out his concealment stone, put it on, transformed, then took it off when his partner’s eyes lit up with recognition. He put the stone back in his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m actually super terrible for lying and you should never even look at me again,” A.T. mimed in a terrible imitation of Cyrus—a truly impressive feat, given how much his natural voice already sounded like their sibling. “I don’t think I’m worth it, even though I totally deserve a spectacular boyfriend!” He switched his voice to a lower pitch when the demon spoke up. A.T. even imitated his tentative hand one Cyrus’ arm.

“Wow, you look so much better without the concealment stone! Let’s get married forever!”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s saying.”

“Could be. You don’t know.”

Cyrus said something else, glancing back at A.T. and Phoenix. A.T. waved when the demon looked over, but the demon barely seemed to see him, his eyes latching onto Phoenix and sparking with something that was almost recognition, but fogged over by confusion.

Right. I ran into him when he was a puppet.

Phoenix wondered how many other former puppets would look at him with that unease, that sense of not quite remembering why he made them uncomfortable, but knowing somewhere in their unconscious mind that he’d played with the Collector, stood by while they were paraded around helplessly.

But Cyrus’ date shook himself, waved back at A.T., and turned back to Cyrus, enthusiastically explaining the work he was doing with a lot of arm waving. Cyrus went along with him, a small, happy smile blooming on his face.

“Aw, well, that’s sweet.” A.T. tugged his hair. “Boy, this place looks different. I hope they don’t rebuild it the exact same. I’d like to see something new.”

“Well, for one thing, there won’t be specialized cells for wild witches,” someone said behind them, “Thank the titan for that.”

A short witch grinned at them. She looked familiar, but Phoenix couldn’t quite place why until she nodded at an alleyway. “Seems like just yesterday you lot helped me out of here, and now, well, I’m back! This time without the chasing, hopefully. Where’s your little friend, the one with the jokes? And the older one?”

“Oh!” Phoenix blurted out. “The witch at the coven day—hey! You made it past the day of unity?”

“Mhm. One of the Collector’s little spies picked me up later, but I’m back now. You would not believe all the apologies I’ve been getting. It’s going to go to my head if I’m not careful. Maybe I should set some scaffolding on fire and give them a new reason to chase me out of town, for old times’ sake. Or at the least to test how far their ‘we’re so sorry, wild witches were right’ sentiments go.”

A.T. reached into his pocket and wordlessly held out a box of matches.

“Did you just have those on you?” Phoenix asked.

“You never know when you’ll have to light a fire,” A.T. remarked serenely, “Just ask Frank.”

The wild witch barked a laugh. “I like you. I’m Annette Thompson; what do they put on your wanted posters?”

A.T.’s face burst into a wide grin. “Matching initials!”

“What’s yours stand for, then?”

“I’ve been told not to ask,” Phoenix told her.

“Oh, a mystery?”

A.T. wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “One that is unlocked after we light enough fires together.”

Annette laughed again. “I suppose we better start, then.”

“Please don’t light anything too important on fire,” Phoenix called desperately after them, “Or better yet—no fires!”

Cyrus jogged over just as A.T. and Annette disappeared into the construction. “I think I need to quit distracting Raphael right now, but he told me when he gets off of construction work, and… where’s A.T. gone off to?”

“To light a fire? I think? He’s made a friend. Or… partner in crime? Possibly both.”

Alarm flashed across Cyrus’ face. “We should be worried, right? We should stop them? They’re just rebuilding.”

Phoenix waved a hand. “I’m sure it’s… fine. Ish.”

“Mm.” Cyrus squinted at the bustling streets. “I guess as long as he doesn’t light anything huge on fire in the middle of my second date.”

“On second thought, I think I’ll go find them.”

Xxx

“I’m leaving.”

Caleb glanced up at Joseph’s declaration, still mostly-engrossed in kneading bread dough for dinner. “Thanks for letting me know. What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“No, I mean, I’m leaving. To go do something else. I won’t be around for… I don’t know how long.”

Phoenix and Frank glanced at each other, but quietly kept chopping up vegetables, pretending they weren’t listening to every word.

“Oh.” Caleb struggled for words, finally managing a simple “I see.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Joseph said quickly. Despite the confidence he’d originally announced himself with, he brimmed with nervous energy, turning a loose griffin feather over and over in his hands, “I love you, and I love the family, and I’ll definitely come back to visit, I just think…” He took a deep breath. “I want to go somewhere else. I’ve been in the same place for so long—and before that, I was with Belos. Now that our home is gone, and we’re rebuilding, and everything is changing anyway… I want to go up to the hand.”

He waved his hands, his nervous energy transforming into excitement. “I mean—the arm is sticking straight up! It’s taller than the Knee now—there’s no telling how the ecosystem up there is going to shift. Plants are going to change to fit the new shape, and the animals are going to have to adapt—and I want to see it. I want to see all the new creatures this brings, I want to see how the old creatures adapt or move somewhere new, or just fail… and I just want to get out and see everything the Isles has. I want to study beasts where they are, out in their natural environments, and I can’t do that if I stay here. I need to go. Please.”

“Okay,” Caleb said slowly. He wiped flour off his hands. “You don’t need my permission, you know that, right?” A wobbly smile appeared on his face. “I gave all of you the choice to leave or stay, remember? I never said that choice had to be permanent.”

Joseph’s shoulders visibly sank in relief. “Thank you.”

“What about the griffins?” Frank asked, finally breaking the unspoken treaty of silence between he and Phoenix.

“I thought—” Joseph rubbed the back of his neck. “—that is—if it’s alright—I thought I’d take Lucy. That’ll make the space restraints with moving closer to town less of an issue. The other griffins I think will be alright as long as they’re fed and exercised, but Lucy… anyway, this—it means the world to me.”

Caleb gave him a small, sad smile. “Permission to…?”

Joseph grabbed Caleb in a bear hug, squeezing so tightly that Phoenix thought he heard Caleb’s back pop. “Thank you, Dad,” he mumbled, his voice thick, “Thank you for everything.”

Caleb hugged back just as tightly. “I’m going to miss you. But I hope wherever you go—I hope you’re happy. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope… I hope…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead giving Joseph one last squeeze and letting go.

“Say goodbye to your mom, too, okay?”

“Of course. And everyone—I wouldn’t just disappear. Of course not.”

Joseph wandered out of the kitchen, searching for Evelyn, and Caleb sat down with a whump.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked quietly.

He managed a tired smile. “Of course, of course. I always knew that someday… I mean, I hoped that one day the world would be safe enough for you. I think I always sort of knew that the house was too small, and that one day some of you might want to leave.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t believe any amount of time would have actually prepared me for it.”

Phoenix thought of the first time he’d seen Darius after Belos’ attack—how he’d suddenly looked so grown up, how the realization that he didn’t need a mentor anymore had punched him in the gut. “No,” he agreed, “I don’t think it would.”

Caleb took a deep breath. “Things are changing right now,” he admitted, “We’ve been… living in a bubble. The only surprises were when one of you would join the house. But now… now the world’s opened up to us, and nothing will be the same.” He gave Phoenix and Frank a tired smile. “At risk of sounding like my brother, I’m not quite sure I’m ready for the change.”

Frank chuckled. “Now you know how we felt when we woke up in a different century.” He shrugged and chopped furiously at the vegetables on the board. “Things are going to be different. But some things are going to be the same, like—” he yanked back from the cutting board with a short scream.

Phoenix dropped his knife, and Caleb jumped up immediately. “Are you okay?! Did you cut yourself?!”

“My arm!” Frank yelped, “I’ve chopped it in with the vegetables! I didn’t even notice! The whole thing’s gone!”

“Terrible,” Phoenix told him, picking his knife back up, “You are just awful.”

Frank grinned, cheerfully resuming his chopping. “And that is something you can count on never changing.

Xxx

The front of Darius’ house buzzed with activity. Lake and Locke even managed to drag Sam out, although he still fidgeted with that strange box Ghost had found. Joseph paced nervously back and forth, and Lucy eyed him like she might be on the verge of sitting on him. But despite the nervousness, the saddlebags on Lucy and the backpack on Joseph looked natural. Right, even. Even his clothes—he’d bundled up for the likely lower temperatures—seemed to fit him better. His eyes shone with a healthy, excited glow.

“I’ll miss you.”

Joseph tousled Jason’s hair, grinning when Jason pushed his hand away. “Don’t get too mopey over me, or Lucy might turn around midair just to squash you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come back soon, okay? I want to read about all the new things you find up there.”

“You’ll be the first to see the notes,” Joseph promised. He glanced over Jason’s head at Cherry. “Take care of them, yeah? Especially keep your eye on this one. He’s trouble. He’ll get another concussion if he can manage it.”

Jason stuck his tongue out.

“Always.” Cherry’s one eye flicked back and forth nervously, glancing up at the sky like he was hoping for some sudden terrible weather to appear and delay Joseph just a little longer. “Stay safe.

“Always,” Joseph echoed, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” He turned to Evelyn and Caleb. “Thank you.”

“You’ll always have a room with us,” Caleb told him, “You know that?”

“I know.”

Evelyn straightened his scarf. “Go find some new wild things. I just know you’ll figure out some way to befriend them.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

Joseph hugged Evelyn and Caleb, climbed on Lucy’s back, and clicked his tongue. The griffin sprang up into the air, her huge wings beating massive gusts of wind onto their heads. Soon, the two of them were just a speck in the sky, sailing towards the raised arm of the titan.

Xxx

“I can’t do it.”

Evelyn gave Auric a gentle shove towards Hexside’s doors. “Yes, you can.”

Auric scratched at the scars on his neck, balking. “I’m too old. Hexside stops at eighteen, and I’m twenty. They won’t let me.”

“I talked to Bump,” Phoenix reassured him, “He and I go back—and Darius talked to him about it, too. You’re not going to be a regular student, no, but the healing teacher agreed to take you on after school, and help you transition into healing-specific schools for graduates. Like an apprenticeship.”

“I don’t have magic,” Auric replied, changing tack, “I can’t do the kinds of… I can’t do it. I’m never going to be as good as them, so—”

“Hey,” Evelyn said sharply, “Who kept Caleb and I from bleeding out?”

“You would have died without the pain sharing spell, I—”

“Who patched up all the refugees when I couldn’t heal anyone?” Evelyn demanded.

“Those weren’t life-threatening injuries, it wasn’t even—”

“You splinted and casted Clara’s broken bone and kept her cheerful,” Phoenix offered, “You were the first one to realize something was wrong with my arms.”

“You stitched Matt up when he came home injured,” Evelyn added, “Face it, Auric—you’re as good a healer as anyone. Magic or no. Magic healers have it easy—we draw a circle, and the wound disappears. But you? You have to put so much thought into what you’re doing, and you have to do it quick. You are incredible, Auric.”

Auric scratched at his neck again. “I’m just not sure.”

“If you really don’t want to do this, then we can go back home,” Evelyn said softly, “But I want you to look me in the eye and tell me with absolute certainty, that going to healing school is something you don’t want.”

Auric took a step back, then a step forward, hovering between Evelyn and the door. “You think I’ll really be able to do it?”

“Would I have put my life in your hands if I wasn’t absolutely certain?”

Auric took a deep breath, taking a decisive step towards Hexside’s doors. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Xxx

“Hey! Over here!”

A hand closed around Phoenix’s arm, pulling him into the empty kitchen. “Phoenix.” Matt laced his fingers together. “You were part of the emperor’s coven when it was actually, you know, a coven.”

Phoenix winced at the reminder. What was this about? “Yes?”

“So you were around a lot of people.”

Where was he going with this? “Yeeessss?”

“Do you know how to plan a party.”

Phoenix stared at him. “What.”

“A party. Do you know how to plan one? Cyrus and I were in town, and his boyfriend invited him to a housewarming party for one of the newly rebuilt houses—well, he invited me, too, but that was just to be polite, I’m not going. Anyway, the point is, I think a housewarming party sounds nice. We could have one for our house, once we’ve actually built it. It would be…” Matt waved a hand. “You know. A normal thing.”

“A normal thing,” Phoenix echoed.

“Something other people do. I think it might help us settle into the town better, you know? Break some of the tension.”

“Have you run this by Caleb and Evelyn yet?”

“I sort of wanted to surprise them. I’ll warn everyone else, of course, but if we’re going to get anywhere with this, first I need someone who can actually plan a party.”

“A party?” Like the word had summoned him, Darius seemed to materialize behind Phoenix. He arched one eyebrow at Matt. “And you asked Phoenix to help plan it?”

“Hey, I planned social functions.”

“The very fact that you just called a party a social function is proof that you aren’t up to the task. What party?”

Matt explained his plan, and Darius nodded slowly. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Who would you invite?”

“You, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Um… Cyrus’ boyfriend Raphael? Maybe that woman A.T. started hanging out with… I bet Jason will want to invite the kids. I guess we could invite the refugees who stayed with us, if anyone knows where they went.” Matt scratched the back of his head. “Do we know anyone else??

“Oh, titan,” Darius murmured under his breath.

“Eda and Lilith,” Phoenix volunteered, “Eber. I think that’s everyone.”

“Small party,” Darius commented.

“There’s over twenty of us, any party we host is already huge.”

“Fair enough.” Darius twirled a finger in the air. “If you’re after goodwill from the townsfolk, shouldn’t you invite some of them? Other than Cyrus’ boyfriend, that is.”

Matt winced. “Inviting strangers isn’t the best plan. I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but most of us aren’t exactly the trusting, openly friendly type.”

“I had noticed something of the sort, believe it or not,” Darius said dryly, “Why don’t you go people watch? Pick guests you don’t find threatening. People who aren’t likely to cause friction, accidentally or on purpose.”

“Reconnaissance. We can do that.”

Darius squeezed his eyes shut. “Reconnaissance. Oh, heavens. Please take Jason with you.”

Xxx

“Not that one. Not that one. Ooo, that one gave me an apology basket, let’s invite him.”

Phoenix glanced over at Annette. “You don’t have to help us.”

“Hey, if they’re not friendly towards a wild witch, they won’t be friendly towards your lively bunch either. My insight is incredibly valuable.”

“Hm.”

“Now might be a good time to test that elixir,” Jason commented mildly.

Phoenix glanced down at his arms. Matt had chosen the top a construction crane, of all places, to people-watch from. It had been a miracle—and Annette’s magic—that he’d gotten up here in the first place. And being out in the town without a concealment stone… it made his skin itch. The curse shifted uneasily, reacting to the stress. It was so ridiculous it almost made him laugh; he’d gotten through the Collector’s “games, the apocalypse, and attempted possession, but being up a little too high and getting a little stressed was making the curse react?

“Here goes nothing.” Phoenix tilted the golden bottle back. Eda had warned him not to let it sit in his mouth, but she hadn’t prepared him for the explosion of terrible flavors that washed over his tongue. He swallowed with a gag. “Tastes like burned animal hair,” he said with a grimace.

“But look.” Jason pointed at his arms. The curse settled back into his normal flesh. He could still feel it curled up inside of him, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, but it seemed… passive. Dormant. Almost like it was taking a nap. Some of the bone-weary exhaustion that seemed to stay no matter how long he slept faded into a background numbness.

“Huh. I guess… I’ll be asking Lilith for her recipe.”

“You think it’ll help long-term?”

Phoenix shrugged. “I know the curse has been useful sometimes, but… it’s a little hard on my arms.” He flexed his fingers, wondering at the difference that slight lift from exhaustion had made. “And I’m starting to think it might have been taking up a little more of my energy than I realized.”

Jason nudged his shoulder. “Sam could have told you that.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’d probably love to run a thousand tests on my day-to-day fatigue levels with and without elixirs.”

“Nah, he’s too busy with that box. Potion-brewing lessons for Phoenix, then. Mom will be ecstatic.” Jason kicked his legs aimlessly, watching the people down below. “You guys ever think about what you want to do now that we’re not on the run?”

“Mix as many kinds of magic together as I can,” Annette answered immediately, “Let’s test the ‘wild magic is dangerous’ theory. I bet some of it could be.”

“Oh, wow, you and A.T. really are perfect for each other. Matt?”

“Something normal.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know. I just want to live a normal life. Make some friends. Get a job. Maybe fall in love, start a family. Do something stupid and young.” Matt shrugged. “I lost my childhood and my teen years to Belos. Everything was one nonstop, horrifying adventure. Everything was some grand purpose. I kind of want to just have a boring life now.”

He heaved a sigh. “I had a choice, you know? Belos just sort of ditched me in the middle of the boiling sea, so when Caleb found me, I was dehydrated and exhausted, but not… dying. I chose to go with Caleb forward in time. I thought if Belos was already destined to be alive for centuries, there wouldn’t be any escaping him in my time. Now that we’ve actually finally gotten away from him… I just want to leave all that behind.”

Matt gave them all a quick smile. “Not that I’d leave the family behind, of course! I still want to be with you guys, I just…” He fell into a pensive silence, staring out at the people below. “I don’t know. I guess Joseph wasn’t the only one with an itch to get out there. This party, getting our foot in the door and helping Mom and Dad get back in the social life of the Isles… it just feels like the right thing to do before going. Not that I’d leave right after. I still don’t have any solid plans. But someday.”

Phoenix didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. It had been enough of a shock when Joseph had left. He’d known, of course, that things would change. Phoenix himself wouldn’t even be at the house on weekends anymore. But between Joseph leaving, Matt’s plan, Auric’s apprenticeship, and the appearance of new people in Cyrus and A.T.’s lives… everything was moving so fast. Maybe they’d stopped running for their lives, but their lives still kept running. He’d barely had the time to get used to the quiet life in the woods before it was completely overturned.

“Wow,” Jason said finally, “Have you told Mom or Dad yet? What about Ash?”

“I don’t want to spring this on them right now. I mean, with the house building, and everyone still healing, and Joseph just leaving… it’s not right. I don’t have a solid plan, and even if I left right after the party, that’s still months of house-building away.” Matt brushed his hair out of his face. “So… don’t tell anyone just yet, yeah?

“My lips are sealed,” Jason promised. He pointed down at the street. “That one, Annette, they stopped to feed a stray, put them on the list.” He sighed. “Wish I had a plan.”

Phoenix ruffled his hair. “You’re eighteen. Give yourself a minute.”

Jason pushed at his hand. “Hunter has it all figured out, and he’s only sixteen! He already knows he’s going to be a palisman carver!”

“You’re not Hunter. Most of us don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t. Eda offered the idea of mentoring, but I don’t know if I’ll take it.”

Jason looked up at him with big, sparkling eyes. “Awwwwwwwww, but you’d be so good at it!”

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you. Nice try.”

“Hey, I meant it. I wasn’t just trying to distract you.”

“Sure. Anyway, take it slow. Joseph knew what he wanted. Matt kind of knows what he wants. But you don’t have to have your whole life figured out just yet. I mean, everyone on the Isles is a bit displaced right now. There are tons of scouts who have no idea what they’re going to do with their lives now. Everyone’s shaken by what happened and wondering what we’ll do without the covens. So just… take it easy. Forget your entire future, let’s plan small. What do you want to do in the next few weeks?”

“Hm. I sort of want to go back to the human realm. Visit Camila. Maybe go back to the library there. Oh—and I want to take Novus. Phoenix, they have so much mechanical stuff there. I think he’ll explode. And I want to help look for where we’ll build the new house. Of course I’m going to help Matt with his guest list and party planning. And… why are you grinning like that?”

“No reason,” Phoenix said lightly, “It just sounds to me like you’ve got plenty of plans for the future.”

Jason wrinkled his nose at Phoenix. “Alright, point taken. But hey, there goes my point. You’re a great mentor.”

“Thanks.” Phoenix tousled Jason’s hair again. This time, he let him.

Xxx

Caleb eyed Phoenix critically. “You’re supposed to be resting your leg.”

He was, in fact, supposed to be sitting back at Darius’ house doing nothing, but Darius had left to deal with some Terra sighting, and almost everyone else was out close to their old home scouting for a new place to build. The whole place had been quiet, except for occasional mutterings from Sam while he fruitlessly searched for a way to open that stone box.

Phoenix sighed. “If I’m stuck sitting around resting my leg for five more minutes, the curse is going to take over from boredom and I’m going to run back into the woods.”

Caleb blinked twice. “Could that actually happen? Your curse activating from boredom, I mean?”

“I doubt it. Besides, I took an elixir today, it should be fine. I won’t move too much, I promise. I’ll find a spot to sit around out here. I just needed to get out.”

“Did you tell Sam you were leaving?”

“He’s not going to look up from that box for at least another twelve hours. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“He should just pour some explosive potion on that box and be done with it,” Novus suggested as he walked by, arms full of levels and angle-measurers, “Or cut into it. That’s the pragmatic thing to do.”

Caleb laughed. “It’s not about getting what’s inside for him, it’s about solving the puzzle. If he gives up, then I’ll let you at it with your tools.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Anyway—you’re probably right, Phoenix, but still.”

“If Sam figures out I’m gone, he’ll probably just shrug and go back to the box. I don’t think he’s desperate to always have someone around. Unless he solves the box, in which case, he’ll tear over here immediately and demand to know why I wasn’t there to witness his moment of triumph.” Phoenix sat down on a log with a sigh. “I messaged Darius to tell him where I was going. Hopefully that’s enough.”

“Hopefully.”

Caleb wandered off, apparently satisfied that Phoenix wouldn’t rebreak his ankle. Phoenix sat on the stump watching his family. Novus kept laying out string where the house would be, testing different spots with his tools, while Lake casually picked the rope up and moved it just a couple inches to the left whenever he wasn’t looking. Matt wrote furiously in a small notebook—party plans, if Phoenix had to guess. Evelyn drew small circles, testing out her construction magic. Everywhere bustled with movement. If someone wasn’t actively making house plans, they were transporting construction materials, or overseeing everyone else.

“They don’t know how to sit still, do they?” Alex plopped down next to Phoenix. “Neither do you.” They shrugged. “I guess it’s good when we’re trying to build a house. What do you think they’ll find to do afterwards?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex gestured at the busy family. “When the house is finished, what do you think they’ll do? What will you do? None of us are good at stopping and staying still for a moment. We just keep going and going and going. So what are we supposed to do once we finish building the new house?”

“We just… live in it, I guess,” Phoenix answered slowly.

“Hm.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Alex shrugged. “Keep my feet on the ground, that’s the only thing I know for sure. Stay away from heights.”

“Seconded. How are the falling dreams? Have they gotten any better?”

“Careful, you sound like Dad.”

“Sorry, I just… you know, I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

“For what?”

“When you told me where you died—that’s how we found Ghost. So… thank you.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Alex went very still, staring pointedly at anything but Phoenix. “Hey, can I ask you something? And… do you promise not to tell anyone what I said?”

“Sure. But, uh… why me?” Surely there were other grimwalkers Alex was closer to. Phoenix had only ever spoken to them the once.

Alex eyed him critically. “Because you’re the only one who backed off, no questions asked, when I told you I just wanted space to process. I don’t know, I feel like I can trust you to understand. Um. Do you think it would be weird if I moved out of the house really soon?”

The question shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. Joseph had already left, and Matt was planning on it—the moving fever was contagious. But still, Phoenix flinched at the idea of one more grimwalker leaving. “Well,” he said carefully, “I don’t think it would be… I mean, Joseph already broke the ice on that one.”

“I know.” Alex combed their fingers through their hair. “But Joseph was… Joseph. He was big. He was determined. He was capable of wrestling beasts and winning. He… well, he didn’t have a panic attack every time he tripped. What if Mom and Dad don’t think I’m ready?”

“They’ll let you anyway.”

“Right. But would it be weird? I mean, we’re building this house together, and then I… I wouldn’t be in it. They’d build a room for me, for what? For me to leave right after? I don’t want them to think I’ve wanted to leave this whole time and was just waiting for the all-clear.”

“Well, why do you want to leave?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you want to leave? Because you want space?”

“Oh. Yes. Something like that.” Alex twisted their hair and let it go. “Time. And space. And I love Mom and Dad and everyone, don’t get me wrong, they’re just… sometimes a little much. So. Um.” Alex gestured towards the town. “You know. Maybe I’ll leave. But I don’t want it to be…”

“Awkward?”

“Yes.”

“You should talk to them about it. I know that’s not your strong suit, but… give it a shot?”

“They’re busy right now.”

Phoenix watched as Novus gestured to Evelyn. She drew one glowing finger in a wide circle, and huge stone walls rose out of the ground where he’d laid out string, her eyes on his blueprints. Her free hand directed another circle, and abominations sludged their way towards the neat piles of tiles, shingles, glass panes, scooping them up and using the stone walls as a base to build windows and roofs.

“Not for long.”

Xxx

“Wow.” Phoenix’s voice echoed in the empty space. He hadn’t realized how everything in the old house had muffled sound until he stood in the empty rooms Evelyn had built. “This took two days?”

“And Evelyn will be passed out for about five,” Caleb said disapprovingly, “I wish she’d taken it slower.”

Lake bounced down a set of stairs, each footstep echoing off the walls and turning into a marching army. “Is Sam getting two rooms again? Because he’s already claimed one of the empty ones up there for his lab.”

“Oh, no,” Novus said casually, “I gave the house a couple of extra rooms for Ghost and Hunter, but I’m taking over the lab space for my work. Machinery will be far more useful than the glyphs now.” He laughed at Caleb’s stricken face. “I’m joking. There’s enough rooms for both. He can have a lab.”

Lake tilted their head. “Seems kinda… bare.”

“We’ll paint the walls,” Caleb promised. He moved through the space with a twinkle in his eye. “The kitchen will be here. Dining room right next to it, of course. What do you guys think of getting a family picture? I’ve always wanted one.”

“What about Achsah’s room?”

Caleb froze.

Lake scratched the back of their neck. “I mean… we saved some of her stuff. Some of the photographs were okay. We could try to set it all up again. But it won’t really be her room anymore. We’ll just be recreating it. Is that something you and Mom want?”

It was like in the absence of Locke, or Sam to bother, Lake had lost their usual goofy demeanor. Phoenix had never seen them be serious for more than two seconds—to drop this reminder on Caleb shocked Phoenix almost as much as it did their ortet.

“Um,” Caleb said in a strangled whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t…”

The kitchen and dining room area held a startling similarity to the old house—Novus had probably designed it that way on purpose. Caleb turned and wandered, half dazed, into the room that would have been Achsah’s back at home.

Lake watched him go passively. “That went well. Do you want to check out the rest of the house? Novus put a state of the art hidden room behind the dining room. The wall slides out and everything.”

“You’re not going to go check on him?”

“Nah, he needs a second by himself.”

Lake wandered through the empty halls, and Phoenix followed. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

Phoenix struggled for a moment to find the right words. “Why you?” he said finally.

“Because Cherry already took one for the team and yelled at Dad for sacrificing himself.”

“Really? That’s it?”

Lake shrugged. “Locke and I overheard Cherry and Novus talk about it when they first showed us the plans—you know how we like to lurk. Lurking is our favorite. Anyway, Cherry told Novus to just leave it in the plans, and we’d get there later, but, well, like I said, Cherry already did the lecture. Someone else’s turn to be the bearer of unwanted news.” Lake blew a strand of hair out of their face. “Would have loved for it to be Sam, Mr. Logic of Logics, but, well.”

They opened a door. Sure enough, Sam had claimed a space for a lab. Right now, he sat on the floor, twisting pieces of the box. He looked up.

“The box is a gridded cube!” he called excitedly, “Jason has compared it to something in the human realm called a ‘rubik’s cube’ and promised to find me one whenever he next visits. I just have to find the right combination…”

Lake closed the door. “You see the problem. Anyway, Locke and I rock-paper-scissors over it, which he ALWAYS wins, you would not BELIEVE how effective it is when he yells out his choice after I’ve already put my hand out. So I was Mr. Logic of Logics today.” They scratched the back of their head. “Not my favorite of jobs. I tried to channel Sam energy, how’d I do?”

Phoenix shook his head. “How do you do that?”

“What, channel Sam energy? It’s very easy, I just think ‘books, books, books’ in my head over and over again until I’m sufficiently stuffy and sneezing out big words.”

“No, I mean you and Locke—how do you stay so…”

“Charming?”

“…upbeat,” Phoenix finished.

Lake shook their head sadly. “It’s all a coping mechanism, we’re so sad and we cover it up with jokes so that no one will see the empty pit of despair welling up inside.” They grinned, immediately dispelling any thought Phoenix might have had that they were being serious. “Look, Phoenix. You just have to stop taking everything so seriously. We beat Belos! We survived! You’re on track for managing your curse! We’re building a great big house! We fought hard. Now enjoy the spoils.”

Loud banging echoed through the house, metal on wood. Lake glanced at an imaginary watch. “It appears to be checking on Dad o’clock.”

Caleb had left “Achsah’s” room. Instead, he sat in the empty place where the kitchen would be, building a table. He gave Phoenix a cheerful grin. “Been a while since I’ve done any woodworking.”

“You seem… chipper,” Phoenix said cautiously.

“Oh, for Titan’s sake, I can’t do this,” Lake whispered under their breath. They disappeared, and came back with Sam. “Go,” they ordered, pointing him towards Caleb.

Sam blinked, as if disoriented by how fast Lake had separated him from the cube and dragged him here. “Nice table. Avoiding our problems again?”

“I’m not avoiding anything. We need furniture if we’re going to live in this house. I’m solving problems.”

“Very reasonable,” Sam agreed, “How about that problem of Achsah’s room?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Phoenix sighed. This was going nowhere. “Are you okay?” he asked Caleb, “I know this can’t be easy. I know how much keeping her room meant to you.”

Caleb’s hand shook on his hammer. “I knew she wasn’t coming back. I mean, Eda and Lilith existing made that painfully clear. I guess I just hoped… But Lake’s right, aren’t they? It’s not her room anymore. The room’s gone, she’s gone…”

“It’s not wrong to want a reminder,” Phoenix said quietly, “You don’t have to forget her.”

“I don’t think I ever could.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Sam chimed in, “You can leave the room empty for now. Leave it for last. Besides, you should probably talk to Mom before making a decision.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Caleb gave the three of them a wan smile. “Thank you.”

“Except Lake for bringing it up,” Sam added.

“No. Lake, too.” Caleb took a deep breath. “I’ll think about it.”

He turned back to the table, but the hammering seemed less desperate now. Phoenix swung out at the obvious dismissal, followed closely by Lake.

“Nice handling,” Lake told him, “Next time, I’m leaving the hard discussions to you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve had enough difficult discussions recently, and I don’t need one more.”

Lake gave him a lopsided grin. “Loosen up, remember? Makes the hard stuff easier.”

They disappeared back up the stairs, leaving nothing behind but the echo of their footsteps.

Enjoy the spoils.

Phoenix took a deep breath, looking around the new house with a small smile. They still had plenty to worry about—making this place home, what to do about Achsah’s room, Matt’s upcoming plans—but for now… maybe Lake was right. Maybe it was time to let go.

Days blurred into weeks of painting and building, moving one room at a time. Kitchen and dining room first, so that they’d have somewhere to cook and eat. Caleb set chairs and tables he’d built in the dining room, beaming with pride. Then came the bathrooms, and the common rooms, and finally, Evelyn declared that they’d picked over the ruins enough, and they wouldn’t find anything else, so they might as well start on their rooms. Phoenix still made the commute back to Bonesborough every weekend to see Darius and catch up on the Isles-wide reconstruction efforts.

Phoenix stared at the blank canvas of his wall. While Jason lined his room with books, and Mole lovingly set potted plants, Phoenix sat on his bed, wishing he could do something besides paint. Even before the house had been destroyed, he hadn’t been there long enough to make the room his own—and the time he did get was so hectic, he wasn’t even sure he’d had anything in the house to salvage.

“Going for the minimalistic approach, are we?” Darius asked from the door.

“Darius!” Phoenix jumped up from the bed. The cast had been cut off yesterday, but his ankle was so weak it almost folded underneath him immediately. “Hey—what are you doing here?”

“Getting all the stuff out of my living room. And having a top secret meeting with Matt about his party. You know, I’m not entirely certain he’s separated the idea of a party from coven work.”

“That sounds right.” Phoenix waved a hand at the walls. “What do you think? Bright purple for the walls?”

“Don’t you dare.” Darius looked around the room. “I know just about everything of yours was confiscated when you… disappeared… so I thought… ah, just take it.”

He handed Phoenix a photograph in a simple wooden frame, a photo of he and Darius during the mentorship. Phoenix gently brushed one hand over his photographed face. He’d gotten so used to the scars from Belos’ attack that seeing this photograph without them now felt strange and foreign. His face looked so… young. But even with the great grin plastered across his face in the photo while he headlocked Darius, a tired sadness seemed etched in his face.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “I don’t remember this being taken—where did you find it?”

“My memories,” Darius replied casually, “I had a copy made.” He sighed. “I know things weren’t rosy perfect back then. I know so much happened to you that I never saw. And I know—or at least I hope—we’re headed towards a better chapter of our life now. But don’t forget the last chapter, eh?”

Phoenix set the photograph up on the dresser, sweeping elixir bottles to the side. “Never. And—Darius? Thank you. For the photo. For letting us stay with you. For… everything.”

“Anytime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a top secret party meeting I must attend. I believe we are discussing snacks.”

Xxx

“I see someone—wait, no, that’s just someone’s abomination that’s gotten loose.” Jason all-but had his face pressed against the glass of the front window, watching out for incoming guests. “They’ll come, right? I mean, of course our friends will show, but given that half the point is to get the townspeople used to the look-alike family that wandered out of the woods, we really need some people we don’t know.”

“I’m sure they will,” Phoenix assured him, but he watched equally carefully.

“Oh!” Jason yanked back from the window, opening the door and sprinting down the careful garden path, currently devoid of an actual garden. “Willow! Gus! Amity! Luz!” He bowed to Willow with a flourish. “Lord of Bats.”

She returned his over-the-top bow with one of her own. “House of Crows. How lovely to see you again.”

“It’s been three days,” Amity reminded them.

They both laughed, and Jason led the kids towards the door.

“Eda and Lilith are on their way with King,” Luz told Phoenix, “They’ll be here soon. I might take King home at some point, though. Don’t want him up too late and all.”

A loud gasp sounded from the path, and a witch from town clutched her chest. “I—I just thought I was meeting the new neighbors,” she stammered, “I didn’t know that Luz the human would be here—and did you say the owl lady was coming?”

“Yesssss?” Luz said uncertainly, as if unsure whether this information would scare the witch off or not.

“Oh. Oh, my. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

She dashed off back towards town, and Luz winced. “I think your guest list might have just gotten a bit bigger.”

That didn’t bode well. They’d kept the invitations small on purpose—not that anyone but Matt and Darius really knew who was coming, but still, Phoenix thought some of the others might notice if too many people showed up.

Eda, Lilith, and King arrived in a rush of feathers and a bag of elixirs pushed into Phoenix’s arms. He answered Lilith’s seemingly endless questions on their effects, wondering vaguely if anyone had warned Caleb and Evelyn they were coming, but mostly focused on the steady trickle of strangers now coming towards the house.

Caleb and Evelyn wandered into the living room, stopping dead when they spotted Lilith and Eda. Phoenix winced. Caleb didn’t look much like his descendants, but their resemblance to Evelyn was impossible to deny. He could practically see the wheels ticking in Eda’s head. But before she could say anything, the other guests reached the house and she was swept away in a tide of questions and admirations. Luz looked similarly swamped.

“Well, this wasn’t in the plans.” Matt stood on the stairs, chewing thoughtfully on a pen. “I should have guessed something would go wrong. I need to warn Silver.”

The mobs around Eda and Luz split into a third group, buzzing around Darius the moment he walked through the door. He arched one eyebrow at Matt, who winced and shrugged.

“Well, we’re getting a reputation for being well-connected,” Locke said at Phoenix’s elbow, “Fantastic, I’m sure this will hold no negative consequences.” He grinned. “We should invite celebrities over more often.”

Babble surrounded Phoenix as people slowly got over their star-struck awe and spread out. They stuck in small packs, townsfolk interacting with their neighbors, and grimwalkers talking to other grimwalkers. Both groups eyed each other uneasily, skirting around each other and only occasionally exchanging brief hellos and ‘excuse me’s.

“Ah, yes,” Locke deadpanned, “I can feel the house warming up already.” He stuck his nose into the air, shaking his head back and forth. “Can you feel that, Lake?”

As if summoned, Lake seemed to materialize at Phoenix’s other side. “No, Locke, what is it?”

“The tension! It’s so thick it’s starting to physically manife—”

Thump.

Muffled murmurs. Evelyn’s immediate sprint, pushing through guests and grimwalkers alike. “Give him space,” she ordered.

“Steven,” Jason breathed, “He’s having a seizure—we need to move everyone away, there’s not enough space.”

More murmurs and exclamations. Across the room, Silver’s face was as white as a sheet, and they beelined for the nearest window, opening it and oh-so-casually leaning against the sill, prepared to leap out, if Phoenix had to guess.

This is bad.

It didn’t take Darius, party expert extraordinaire, to know that. People flocked naturally to a disaster—they’d crowd Steven, stress Silver, and probably panic themselves, which would only—

“Well, I think it’s time to move this party outside!” Locke hopped up on the stairs, raising their voice, “Do we have any plant witches in attendance tonight?”

Willow raised her hand, and a few others tentatively joined her.

“Who feels like a seed race?”

“What’s that?” someone called.

“Only the best way for a plant witch to show off their magical prowess! Winner gets to take home a rare human realm plant known as ‘mint,’ proven to thrive even in the Isles!”

A few ‘ooo’s rose up, and witches started to wander outdoors. Cherry had quickly assembled a circle of grimwalkers around Steven and Evelyn, blocking them from view while guests went outside.

Willow hung back, raising one eyebrow at Locke. “A seed race, huh? How come I’ve never heard of that before?”

“Because I made it up just now. Mole, you’ve got some seeds, right? Where did you want some of the plants in the garden to go? I’ll make it look natural.”

Caleb slumped against the banister. “Thank you, Locke.” Behind him, Steven slowly sat up, watched by Evelyn like a hawk.

“Hey, it’s what I do. Be a loud and annoying distraction. Just ask Sam!” Locke grinned, bouncing out the door. “Alright, three categories: speed, size, and healthiness! Line up!”

Caleb sighed, joining Evelyn and Steven.

Eda nudged Phoenix. “Hey, introduce me to your planner. We’ve been scheming up a quinceañera party for Luz, and so far, this party’s been a riot.”

“Wish it was less of one.”

She grinned and held out an elixir. “Bottoms up, kid.”

Phoenix glanced down. He hadn’t even noticed his arms had started to drip. Great. Another thing for the townsfolk to take home as a story. He gulped the elixir with a grimace. “Does the taste ever get better?”

“If anything, it gets worse. Ah, well, necessary evils and all that. Not to suddenly change the subject or anything, but do you mind explaining her?” Eda waved an accusing hand towards Evelyn.

“I think you’d better ask her. And Caleb.”

“Yeah, I kind of thought that would be your answer. Well, can’t blame me for trying the easy route.” Eda grabbed Lilith’s arm. “C’mon.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Answer-hunting.”

Before they could approach Evelyn, Sam thumped down the stairs, puzzle box tucked under his arm. “Oh, is the party over already? Excellent, I didn’t actually want to go.”

Lilith gasped. “Ooo!” She pulled herself from Eda’s grip, reaching for the box. “May I? I love a good puzzle.”

“Be my guest.”

“Aaaaand I’ve lost her,” Eda muttered under her breath, “Right, just me then.” She squared her shoulders, and marched towards Caleb and Evelyn. Steven waved the two of them off with a tired smile, and the two nervously gestured towards Achsah’s room, still untouched.

“They are definitely going to botch the explanation,” Sam said cheerfully, “They always do.”

“Yeah…” Phoenix looked back at Steven to check if he was still upright. He was with Darius now, and the two of them spoke in low voices, occasionally glancing down at Steven’s burned-off sigil. Cherry stood only a few feet away, looking like he was desperately trying not to listen in and at the same time, straining to hear what was being said.

“You’re my WHAT?!” Eda’s voice squawked from Achsah’s room.

“Got it!” Lilith said triumphantly at the same time, “You were so close. I barely had to do anything.” She looked up. “What happened to Eda?”

Phoenix hurried to Achsah’s room, Darius and Steven forgotten. Eda jabbed a finger at him the moment he entered.

“You are not allowed to be my great uncle,” she told him, “Not allowed, do you hear me?”

“Sorry. I’ll try not to be.”

Lilith came in on Phoenix’s heels. “What’s going on?”

“They’re our ancestors, Lili. Our ancestors.”

“Oh,” Lilith said thoughtfully, “That makes sense. Fascinating.” She held out the box. “This is for you two, by the way. Someone called Achsah went great lengths to make sure it reached you through time.”

Caleb all-but snatched the opened box from her, his face pale. “Achsah?!”

Evelyn delicately lifted out a letter. Phoenix caught sight of a bracelet inside, hand-woven leather and beads. Evelyn scanned the letter, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Get Mole, please,” she whispered, and Sam was off. Mole arrived moments later, and Evelyn held up the letter. “Caleb, would you…?”

Caleb took the paper from her, his eyes devouring it like a starving man. “Dear Mom and Dad,” he read out loud, “I’ve buried this letter in a puzzle box under where the kitchen will be someday. I hope you finally get to work on that root cellar you always wanted, or else you won’t find it. Dad—” he choked up, and Evelyn took the letter.

“Dad, I know exactly what you’ve probably been doing since the moment the time pool washed away, and I want you to stop it. What happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s. For a while, I was sad, and lost, and wanted nothing more than for you to pop out of another pool and bring me back home.” Evelyn took a deep breath. “But since then, I’ve met some beautiful people, including my partner.”

Caleb took the letter back. “You two would love them, just as much as I love them. I wish the three of you could meet. While I write this, your grandkid is tearing through the house like a tiny terror. He’s got your nose, Dad, and Mom’s eyes. And the healer tells me I’ve got twins coming—isn’t that crazy? I’d do anything to protect them, and I know if you could have come back for me, you would have. But I want you to know that I’m happy here and now. I miss you every day, but I don’t regret the people I’ve met since. Please don’t be sad I’m gone.”

Caleb smiled at Mole. “This next part is for you. Say hi to your lookalike for me, Dad. If he’s anything like you, the ‘don’t blame yourself’ bit goes for him, too. I don’t regret rescuing him. I only wish I’d gotten to know him. Bet he’s awesome. I made a bracelet for him. I know he was passed out, so he probably didn’t see me at all, but it’s just something to remember me by. His younger/older sister.”

Mole sniffed, delicately lifting the bracelet out of the box and slipping it onto his wrist.

“I know we were hiding. I didn’t realize it first, but now that I’ve spent my life here trying to pretend I’ve always lived in this time, I can see it’s the same. Mom. Dad. I don’t want you to keep hiding. Whatever happens, get out there. Show the world who you are. All the love in both dimensions, Achsah.”

Caleb folded up the letter, and they all stood there for a long moment, no one saying anything. Finally, Evelyn took Caleb’s hand. “No more hiding,” she said softly.

“No more hiding,” Caleb echoed, “No more grieving.”

“Are you ready to show the world who we are?”

“If you are.”

Evelyn smiled, and together, she and Caleb walked out to meet the Isles.

Xxx

“Latissa.” Evelyn said the word carefully, like it might shatter in her mouth. “That’s an interesting choice. Any reason?”

Steven rubbed his arm where his sigil used to be. “Darius mentioned something—I know it’s gone, but…”

“The sigil experiments,” Phoenix breathed. That had to be what Darius and Steven had been talking about at the housewarming party. He touched his own mark. The Day of Unity was over, and with it, the danger of the draining spell. The sigils didn’t affect him, but countless witches couldn’t access all their magic—Alador led the way in sigil removal research, and Darius was right there with him.

Steven nodded. “The sigil experiments. I don’t think mine is the same as the modern sigils, since it almost killed me instantly, but Darius said getting a look at the earlier attempts might help them understand the ones we have now.”

“But you said it: you don’t have yours anymore,” Evelyn replied, “How are they going to study it?”

“Questions. Anecdotes. And… the seizures. Darius thinks they’re related.”

“We knew that.”

“Well, yes, but this might be—I mean, if what I know can help them, and if their research can stop the seizures entirely… even if they can’t, I want to help.” Steven shook his head. “I used that glove on other people, even knowing what it would do to them. I can’t change that, but… maybe I can make up for it by helping witches suffering from those sigils now.”

Evelyn chewed on her lip. “Latissa is a bit of a commute without a palisman,” she said finally, “What’s your plan?”

“I’d be staying there.” Steven shrugged, as if trying to make it seem like nothing. “There’s space—they converted the old police station into their center. I’m sure we can fit a bed.”

“I see. Do you—do you know how long you’d be there?” Evelyn’s voice held a sort of desperate casualness to it, like she was trying not to scare Steven off, but also didn’t quite want to let him go.

“Not forever.” Steven’s voice matched Evelyn’s, somehow both intensely normal and strained at the same time. “I’ll be back. Um. I mean, how long could it take, really?”

“How much is Alador like Sam?” Evelyn joked. She rubbed her arm. “Will you be okay? I should go with you.”

“What? Mom, they need you here.”

“But the seizures—if one happens—will Alador know what to do?”

“I’ll tell him,” Steven promised, “And I’m almost certain healers will be involved—I’ll be in the best possible place if something does go wrong. Besides home.”

“Hm.”

Steven took her hands. “Mom, I’ll be safe. I promise. This could be… it could be huge for me.”

“It could be.” Evelyn sighed, wrapping him in a hug. “Oh, I knew you all would grow up. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Phoenix thought uneasily of Matt and Alex. Neither of them had announced their plans to leave yet, but maybe Evelyn suspected. Or maybe with Jason always off with the kids, and Auric always off at his new apprenticeship, and Phoenix gone every weekend, she just felt… lonely.

“I won’t be gone for long. Promise.”

Xxx

“Where was that you said? The wreckage of the keep? Again?” Darius pinched his nose, nodding along to the conversation on the other end of the raven phone. “I know—yes. No, we’ll look into it. I said we’ll look into it! Yes, lovely day to you too, goodbye.”

Phoenix winced, setting his weekend bag on the floor with a thump. “Bad time?”

Darius tossed the phone to the side, letting it fly to its perch. “It’s fine. Just Terra rearing her head again. Most of the scouts and coven heads settled in peacefully enough, but every couple of months…”

Phoenix shuddered. He doubted she’d come after him specifically, but part of him was tempted to start checking his drinks for poison. “Is it safe to leave her on the loose?”

“Unlikely. If anyone’s going to cause havoc, it’s going to be her. But the…” Darius heaved a sigh. “…CATs… are spread too thin. Between guarding the new palistrom tree, rebuilding what Belos and the Collector destroyed, and keeping the peace between disoriented and disillusioned citizens, we haven’t had a lot of time or manpower to spare towards tracking her down. And I don’t want to assign someone inexperienced to the job—we need someone who’s used to handling threats. Big ones. People who can corner her, and…” he tilted his head. “You have a thinking face on. You know someone, don’t you? One of your siblings?”

“Yes,” Phoenix said slowly, “Or—at least, I think so. Let me see that phone again?”

One short phone call and a griffin-flight later, Meleager, Horus, Hamlet, and Venari sat in Darius’ living room, studying pictures of Terra with matching frowns.

“Plant magic…” Meleager mused, “Fire and ice, then. I think I still have some leftover frost potions.”

“We need to get her off the ground,” Venari added, “The further she is from seeds and dirt, the harder it’ll be for her to get away.”

Hamlet scratched his head. “Coven head, though, so it’ll be tricky to separate her entirely—any capture method like nets or rope can’t be made of plant fibers, because she might be able to manipulate those.”

“Once we get her hands and feet immobilized, that won’t be as big of an issue,” Horus declared, “Focus on the capture—containment after should be comparatively easy.”

“Sounds like they’ve got this under control,” Darius murmured to Phoenix.

“They’ve been bored,” Phoenix replied equally quietly, “Oh, just—make sure you prioritize capturing Terra alive.”

Darius chuckled, then glanced at Phoenix and stopped abruptly. “Oh, you’re not kidding. They’ll—”

“Without hesitation.”

“Huh. Well, would it really be that much of a loss? Kidding,” he added quickly, “I’ll be sure to tell them.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I’ve got no love lost for Terra. But I don’t want them killing anyone, for sure. I don’t think that’s a path anyone wants them taking.”

“Hey.” Darius gave Phoenix a small smile. “Give them a little trust. They met Petro—I don’t think they’re in any hurry to go down the killing spree path.”

“Hm. I hope you’re right. They still might engage in some light torture, though.”

Darius squeezed his eyes shut. “Why do I feel like you handed me a bigger problem than the one you’ve solved?”

“They’ll be fine. Just…”

“Reiterate the capturing her alive part, yes, understood.”

“We’re going,” Venari declared, “We’ll see you in… what, 3 days at the worst?”

“We’re staking out the keep. We might come back to steal Dagger,” Meleager explained, “We got this, Phoenix, she’ll never poison anyone again.”

“Alive,” Darius warned, “Capture her alive!”

Horus gave him a thumbs-up, and the four of them disappeared out the door. Darius watched them go, the worry on his face shifting to a pensive, planning expression. “You know, if this goes well, I might have a few other hunts for them. Terra’s not the only one who’s clinging to her old power.”

Phoenix grinned. “I’m sure they’d like that very much.”

Xxx

“Oop—watch the root—”

Phoenix caught Mole’s arm at Jason’s warning, keeping him upright when he stumbled. “Maybe we should take off the blindfold?” he suggested, “The footing’s getting a little treacherous.”

“But then it wouldn’t be a surprise!” Jason protested, “Maybe you could carry him?”

Mole’s nose scrunched up at the suggestion, and Phoenix shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think he wants that.”

“Well, we’re almost there anyway. Come on.”

Phoenix didn’t pick Mole up, but he held his arm out for Mole to cling to and guided him slowly over the forest floor. Mole gave him a brief grateful smile, jabbing one finger at the blindfold and heaving a fond sigh.

“He’s a bit excited,” Phoenix agreed, “He’s been taking trips out here with Hunter and Willow an awful lot, but they’ve been tight-lipped about it to me, too.”

“Okay, Phoenix, now you have to close your eyes, too!”

“I thought this was a surprise for Mole?” Phoenix protested.

“It is,” Hunter agreed, appearing at Phoenix’s elbow with Flapjack in his staff form, “But it’s a surprise for everyone. Don’t worry, I’ve got you two.”

Phoenix closed his eyes. Hunter’s hand closed over his arm, and he heard the tell-tale sound of a flash-step, his balance just ever-so-slightly thrown off at the sudden change in placement.

“Okay, open them,” Jason ordered.

Phoenix opened his eyes, and beside him, Mole took off the blindfold.

A massive blue tree towered over them, blooming with blue leaves and flowers. Phoenix had never seen a tree like this, but something about it seemed… familiar. His skin crawled with that feeling of just knowing something, deep inside, like how his curse recognized Belos, but more positive.

“Is that… palistrom?” he asked.

Mole stepped forward as if in a trance, putting one hand on the massive blue trunk. He nodded in answer to Phoenix’s question, pressing his forehead to the bark like it was an old friend. Silent tears streamed down his face, and Phoenix remembered just how long ago Mole had technically been born. He must have been used to seeing palistrom forests peppering the Isles, and had woken up suddenly in a world without them.

“The palisman this tree could make,” Phoenix murmured, “It grew so big so fast!”

“Willow had a lot to do with that part,” Hunter explained, “But, well, there’s a reason there was a shortage for so long.”

“Palistrom were kept strictly monitored by Belos,” Phoenix remembered, “You think he kept them small on purpose? Of course he did,” he answered his own question, “Why wouldn’t he? The more magic stifled, the better.”

Hunter fidgeted, twisting his hands around each other. Jason nudged him. “Go on,” he whispered, “Tell them.”

“Tell us what?”

“I’m going to be a palisman carver,” Hunter burst out, “Caleb’s taught me some, and I’ve been talking to Eda’s dad, Dell—he was a professional carver, you know—and he’s going to take me on as an apprentice.” He looked up at the tree, eyes shining. “With the way this tree’s been growing and flowering, we should be able to repopulate the Isles with palistrom in no time. Luckily, the palistrom is a self-pollinating plant. And even just a solid branch from this tree—anyone can have a palisman. Everyone can.” He scratched the back of his neck shyly. “I was thinking… I was thinking I could carve one for Caleb first. Since… you know. He carved my palisman.”

Phoenix smiled warmly. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“And… I could carve one for everyone in the family. Or you could adopt!” he added quickly, “The Bat Queen has dozens of palisman looking for a home. But yes. I could carve one. Hypothetically. No promises yet, I’m still learning, but—oh, okay, you hate the idea.”

“What?” Phoenix reached up to find tears running from his eyes. “No—no, Hunter, I don’t hate the idea, I…” he searched for the right words to describe how he felt. A palisman? For him? He’d never even considered it, not with the life he’d lived. The curse curled up inside him rumbled at the idea, but he couldn’t tell if it was the remnants of Belos protesting, the palisman eager for a palisman of their own outside of him, or something hungrier. “Is that a good idea?” he said finally, “I mean, with…” he gestured to his arms.

“Do you want one?” Jason asked.

“Yes.” The word slipped out of Phoenix’s mouth almost without a thought. He hadn’t realized he wanted one until now, but he knew it deep inside, watching Flapjack and Hunter. “I do.”

“Then we’ll find a way to make it work,” Jason said firmly, “Whatever that means.”

Mole nodded joining them. He pointed to himself, tilting his head in a question.

“Yeah, of course I can make one for you,” Hunter interpreted, “Any idea what you’d want? We can always go the egg route if not. Sounds pretty easy to carve, too.”

A mischievous grin crept over Mole’s face, and he pointed to himself again. Hunter frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re asking—sorry, we’ll figure it ou—”

Jason groaned. “Oh, no. You want a mole for a palisman, don’t you?”

Mole nodded vigorously, breaking off into peals of laughter. Phoenix groaned with Jason, but Mole’s laughter was infectious, and a smile took over his face despite himself.

Palisman for us. It didn’t seem right—not after all the palisman he’d handed over to Belos. Maybe Mole or Jason deserved one—after all, Belos had tried to kill Jason for protecting the little creatures. Phoenix? He’d never even considered another option besides giving them to their doom.

But Flapjack sat scarred and proud on Hunter’s shoulder despite everything, like a beacon saying it’s possible; you just have to want it enough, and the tree loomed over them, big, and beautiful, and strong despite what Belos had tried to do to its species, and right here, in this forest, Phoenix did want it.

We’ll find a way to make it work.

Xxx

Phoenix climbed out an attic hatch onto the roof—another holdover from the old house’s design. He didn’t quite join Cherry where he sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over, but he sat down close.

“I thought this was Jason’s brooding spot. Enjoying the view?”

Cherry glanced back at him. “It’s quieter than I thought it would be.”

“Hm?”

Cherry waved a hand at the town sprawling in the near distance. “I thought it would be noisy, living so much closer to other people. But in the evening, if I close my eyes, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. It’s like we’re still back in the forest, and we’re all together. No one’s left and gone where I can’t protect them. And then I open my eyes, and… it’s all so different now.”

“It’s not a bad thing. They’ll be okay.”

“Mm.” Cherry stared out over the town again, his hair almost red in the light of the setting sun. “You ever think it was strange, how close to Belos we were hiding? I mean, the third rib? We might as well have been on his doorstep. But we weren’t discovered. Somehow, we were never discovered. Somehow, Mom and Dad managed to save every one of us, no matter how badly we were injured. Isn’t that odd? We didn’t lose a single person.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Belos always said loss was so necessary, and I believed him. I saw it firsthand, how sometimes people had to be sacrificed. We were some of those people. But somehow, no one died. None of us—despite how many people we killed, not one of us went down. Why did we get to survive when so many people didn’t?” He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. “Doesn’t that seem so improbable, when you think about it? Belos might have been lying about the titan having plans for us, but sometimes it almost does feel like there’s some higher power out there who’s decided to keep us alive.”

“Or one determined human and witch.” Phoenix scooted closer to Cherry, eying the edge of the roof. “It does seem improbable,” he admitted, “People died—and we were responsible some of the time. But we all made it. Against the odds. I think this family is good at that.”

Cherry heaved a sigh. “But what’s the point, if we’re not going to stick together? What’s the point, if after everything, everyone goes their separate ways? We got so far, only to fall apart at the end.”

“We’re not falling apart.” Phoenix looked up at the moon and stars slowly replacing the sun as the brightest things in the sky. “You know… I used to see Darius every day. I’d take him with me on missions. I’d test his skills, but I was always there to protect him if something happened. But when I first woke up with Caleb and Evelyn… he’d grown. He was a capable adult who could handle himself. And that was a hard thing to accept. If he didn’t need me to protect him, if he didn’t need a mentor, then what use was I to him?”

Phoenix smiled. “But we haven’t fallen apart yet. Maybe he doesn’t need a mentor anymore. Maybe he doesn’t need my protection. But I think he still needs me. Just me, because I’m me and that’s enough of a reason.” Phoenix nudged Cherry’s shoulder. “It’s not going to be the same. They’re not going to be as close. They won’t always need your protection anymore. And that’s going to be difficult to get used to. But I don’t think they’ll ever stop needing you.”

Cherry watched the sun finally disappear completely over the horizon, silent until it was gone. “I don’t want our lives to change,” he said finally, “I think I’m glad for the others finding what they want, but I’m not sure who I am without them. I’ve been looking after them for so long, trying to forget the past for so long… I don’t want to be left alone with myself.”

“Hm.” Phoenix leaned back, finally kicking his legs over the edge of the roof and sitting fully next to Cherry. “Well. I can tell you some good news about that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. Even if they all leave, even if we all go our separate ways, you aren’t going to be alone, Cherry. We will always have your back. We’ll only be one raven call away.”

A smile flashed across Cherry’s face. “You’re going to have to teach me how to use one.”

“Oh. Right.”

“But… thanks, Phoenix. For having my back.”

Xxx

Despite Phoenix’s late start, his room filled up over months of living. Mole commandeered his window space with new plants, human realm varieties that Camila shared. Light blue walls were quickly covered over with scribbles that Ghost had presented him, and photos Willow shared. She always seemed to be dropping by, picking up Hunter or Jason or both of them. Sometimes, even Mole went along to visit the palistrom tree. Little practice wood carvings that Hunter made with Caleb and Dell surrounded the photograph Darius had given to him. Hunter hadn’t carved any palisman for the family besides Mole’s mole, but one day, Jason came back from the human realm library with a massive book full of animal pictures that he and Phoenix pored over for hours, looking for a creature that felt right.

Jason tapped one foot. “We’re going to be late. Hunter and Willow are outside waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second. We’ll have at least half an hour while Caleb and Flapjack catch up.” Phoenix drank an elixir. Today had been a good day for the curse, but he didn’t want to push it staying up late.

Jason wandered over to the window, peering into the garden. “He’s gotten taller than me,” he grumbled, “Traitor. I’ll be inconsolable if Ghost gets big like that. I cannot be the shortest in the family.”

Phoenix ruffled his hair, his arm braces clicking gently at the movement. “Aw, don’t you want to stay the baby forever? You don’t want to be Evelyn’s little snuggle buddy?”

“I will always be Mom’s little snuggle buddy, thank you very much, but that doesn’t mean I have to be the shortest. Ghost has to be shorter. They have to.”

“Do not.” Ghost wrinkled their nose at Jason from the doorway. “I’m gonna be so big. Gonna eat griffins. In one bite.”

“Don’t let Joseph hear you say that,” Phoenix joked, “He’ll disown you.”

Ghost squeaked, tugging on Phoenix’s arm. “Nee-Nee, it’s time to go,” they said impatiently, “I wanna see King.”

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Phoenix followed Ghost downstairs. Hunter chattered excitedly to Caleb about the palisman he was working on, and Willow gave Jason their customary bow and exchange of royal titles.

“I can just walk, right?” Phoenix asked Hunter.

“Low and slow,” Hunter promised.

“You never actually mean that,” Phoenix grumbled, but he sat behind Hunter anyway, picking Ghost up and holding them tightly in his lap.

Hunter did fly too fast and too high for Phoenix’s taste, but Willow and Jason still beat them by a mile, so he supposed Hunter had been taking it easy on him.

Ghost squirmed out of Phoenix’s lap almost before they’d completely landed, bolting to tackle King in a hug. The titan fell in mock defeat.

“Curses! You’ve defeated the king of the demons this time, little Ghost!”

“She’s coming!” Eda called, “Everyone ready?”

Luz walked through the door, and the quinceañera passed by in a blur of well-wishes and laughter. Phoenix exchanged smiles and hellos with what seemed like everyone on the Isles.

“You thought any more about the mentoring offer? The university’s really taking off.”

Phoenix smiled tiredly in response to Eda. “I’d need a way to get there. Getting Ghost to Hexside is going to be tricky enough.”

“Man. Get a palisman already, would ya?”

Eda’s grin dispelled any bite to the words, but Phoenix’s attention hung fully on the portal door hanging wide open behind her. He glanced around to make sure Ghost was safe—they chased happily after Flapjack, who Phoenix was relatively certain was one of the more responsible people here—and quickly pushed through into the human realm before he could convince himself not to.

Creak.

Phoenix’s eyes darted over furniture that formed monsters and familiar specters in the dark. Wait a minute…

“Petro?” he called, just in case.

“No,” Jason’s voice called from the basement, “Just me.”

Phoenix creaked his way down the stairs to the basement, wincing at every sound. He sat on the bottom of the stairs next to Jason. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jason gestured out towards the mound where Phoenix knew Belos’ remains lay. “Do you ever wake up and just… forget for a minute that he’s gone?”

Phoenix rubbed his arms. A part of Belos would always live in him, in the curse—for him the problem was more remembering that he was gone at all. “Sometimes,” he admitted, “I’m guessing you do.”

Jason sighed. “I know it’s been years, but… sometimes it just doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I feel like he’s still coming for me. I mean, after all he’s survived, how can I even truly be sure he’s gone?” He rested his chin on his knees. “I don’t know if I’ll ever really believe it.”

Phoenix chuckled dryly. “Can you imagine how furious he’d be if he was still alive?”

Jason cracked a smile at that. “A university of wild magic?” he joked, “He’s probably spinning in his grave fast enough to generate the electricity needed to power this whole neighborhood. Not to mention us.”

“Not to mention us,” Phoenix echoed, “He’d be devastated if he knew we were happy.”

“Guess we better keep being happy, then. Just to spite him.” Jason’s smile faded, and he went back to looking over Belos’ grave.

Phoenix nudged his shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly, “He’s dead. For real this time. He’s not coming back. But when it feels like he might, when it feels like he’s going to jump out of nowhere and sink his claws into you… you know where to find me. Or Cherry. Or Caleb, or Evelyn, or Mole, or anyone else. You’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah. I think I am.”

Jason got up, stretching and offering his hand to Phoenix. “Let’s get out of here.”

Phoenix happily obeyed, following Jason back into light and laughter. Ghost wandered over, their eyelids drooping. Flapjack chirped an admonishment, tugging affectionately on their hair.

“Hey, Ghost,” Phoenix said quietly, crouching down next to them, “You all tired out?”

They rubbed their eyes. “I’m not sleepy,” they said stubbornly, in spite of their giant yawn, “I just… want to go to bed and rest my eyes.”

“Fair enough.” Phoenix scooped Ghost up, holding them as easily as if they were still a toddler. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[dujour13]

Ask me about one of my OCs and I’ll list out why they’re problematic.

Presumptuous perhaps but I'm skipping the reblog/ask stage. Also taking inspiration from @arendaes great idea to make this a creative writing project.

---

“Dreamer help me if a time ever comes I’m not. I live to be problematic. In a good way!” He flashes that radiant smile, thinking it'll get him off the hook.

Aivu narrows her eyes. “Sometimes you’re problematic in a bad way. You’re a problem when you forget to bring me treats. And when you’re sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m never sad!”

“You’re also a problem when you don’t tell the truth.” Her dragon lips pinch with reproach.

“Come on, I only lie for good reason.”

“And when you don’t want to get in trouble.”

“That’s a good reason. And so do you, may I remind you.”

“OK but I’m bad at it. You always seem to know. I make my biggest, sweetest baby dragon eyes, just like this—” She bats her long lashes. “—and it never works.”

“Seriously, nobody else could have eaten that cake in one bite.”

“Woljif could.”

“In one bite, no.”

“Hm. Maybe not. Not without leaving crumbs,” she concedes. “But you’re being sneaky again.”

“Me?”

“You’re difficulting. Diftecling. You know, what Arueshalae says.”

“Deflecting?” He lets out a sigh of defeat. “All right, fine. How am I problematic—let me think.

“I’m impulsive. I trust in luck, and that makes me look reckless. Look, it turned out that letting Minagho go helped us out in the end. There wasn't much I could do for her victims. Imprisoning or killing her wouldn’t bring anybody back. Using her to help win the Crusade was the best revenge we could hope for, isn’t it? Like she used Staunton. Or, maybe not that bad, but still. It’s the principle.

“No, I didn’t think I could ‘save’ her. Just tried to turn her against her master. And it worked. Demons are so easy that way.

“I know what you’re implying. The savior complex? The manipulation? Be honest with me: if more people thought the way I do, the world really would be a better place. Case closed, right?” There’s the extremely compelling smile again. You are determined not to let him entirely off the hook, however...

“All right, touché, but rules are for cowards and suckers. And devils. Sometimes, lying, cheating and stealing are the most ethical thing you can do.”

“And if you’re sneaky you don’t get in trouble," adds Aivu helpfully.

“Or if you make big, sweet baby dragon eyes.”

[malice-ov-mercy]

“You’ve broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Pairing: incubus!Adam De Micco x unnamed OFC

Content Warnings: mentions of death/dying, mentions of life/soul transferring (???), (im not entirely sure how to tag any of this to be completely honest)

Word Count: 600

Prompt from this list

“You’ve broken me. All I can think about is you.”

A/N: kind of a continuation of Adam’s Version. Also kind of just a mish mash of words.

Tag list: @circle-with-me @foliosriot @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @sitkowski @dominuslunae @poisongirl616 @deathblacksmoke @Gretavanomens

If you would like to be added, please fill out this form!

Adam Masterlist

“You’ve broken me. All I can think about is you.”

A statement that was more like a plea, I stood firm, willing away the unpleasant feeling coursing through blood. Until now, I’d never feared Adam. Other than being a demon, he’d never given me reason.

Sinfully beautiful and dripping with faux innocence, his smile blinded me.

“My sweet lamb, that’s entirely the point.” His voice held no remorse or sympathy for the way he’s ruined me.

I suppose I can’t blame him because he’s right. Adam’s sole purpose is to wreak havoc, make me helpless, crazed, and so reliant on him that I become involent. He’s to strip me not only of clothes, but my humanity and will so I’m less inclined to resist the inevitability of my demise. Seduction was an art, and by the Devil, Adam was a master.

Naive I may be to think I’ve somehow had a positive influence on him, this creature of dark nightmares, but I hadn’t given up hope yet. I was bought, a purchased good, but I still believed that somewhere in the depth of his demonic heart and the place where his soul used to be that he cared for me—more than he’d admit.

He stole less of my life every visit. Often, he’d bring me morsels of others to replenish what he stole. Did that make me the same as him? I didn’t feel any different.

“You let me feast on you, allow me the pleasure of returning the gesture. You taste better when you're alive and full.” He’d say, pouring essence into me. Those kisses and intimate moments were my most cherished. He was most tender and lovingly giving me life.

Perhaps Adam was lying to himself like I was myself. He’s been this way for longer than he can remember. Maybe he’s just forgotten what it’s like to love. He’s capable of it, I’m sure.

I knew my fate was sealed the second he appeared in my unconscious mind. Death would sing her hauntingly beautiful melody and soon I would have to join her.

“I’m not sure how much more I can offer you, Adam,” I confessed. Clouds obstructed the soft sky blue of his eyes, hiding his intentions—something that’s never happened before.

“There’s… enough.” He didn’t sound convinced. “As long as you keep accepting my offerings.”

I memorized every crack and print of his lips, could draw a perfect replica if or if not my life depended on it, but—

This was nothing like any of the others we’d shared. Pieces of me instantly broke apart and flowed easily to him the second we connected. Not now. I didn’t feel the familiar yet odd tingle of another’s life filling me. I felt… an unusual heat, like the beginnings of an eternal fire. It spread through me quickly, delightfully burning from the inside out.

Dizzy and lightheaded, I clung desperately to him, unashamed of my desire. His tongue ran across my bottom lip, asking for a taste of mine. I sold myself to him, he no longer had to ask, I was his forever—but still he always asked and I swooned all the same, like I always did.

A harsh sting of teeth piercing my neck pulled a pained moan from me that quickly dissipated to one of pleasure.

“A sweet little lamb,” Adam rasped against my skin, his breath fanning the fire he started, “once so perfect, so pure, sent herself to slaughter.”

I threaded my fingers through his silken tousled curls, overwhelmed with arousal.

“What is a wolf to do when he can’t kill his prey?”

[salmontooth]

Sargon was a weapon. And like a weapon, he had been forged by searing flames and unbearable heat; his hardships made him a more formidable warrior. This also meant, like a weapon, he knew he was only useful if he could fight and defend. Weapons that broke were smelted back into molten metal, or were placed on display and forgot about in some nobleman’s house, gathering dust as it had gathered kills during its prime.

            Sargon was a broken weapon.

A new AU that I’ve been torturing @kaihoney and @gryffintheparrotcat with. It’s called “More than a weapon” AU! Read more for context:

Spoilers underneath!

GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF INJURY

“Sargon would be lying if he’d said he knew what attack Vahram had thrown at him caused it, but whatever had happened, it left his arm a mangled mess, barely even recognizable as human.

Ghassan had stressed how Artaban and Neith did everything they could, but the Wak Wak tree wasn’t healing it completely. Apparently, there is only so much the Wak Wak tree could heal. By the time they had realized the tree wasn’t healing that particular injury, necrosis had begun to take hold, and it left them with no choice but to amputate the arm. Despite not being able to heal the initial injury, that damn tree was able to heal the worst of the amputation itself. However, like the stab wound through his shoulder, it didn’t heal fully and Sargon could feel the uncomfortable pull of stitches when he moved his arm back down.”

A little snippet from the fic I’m writing for this AU! I’m hoping I caught the primal horror and awful realization on Sargon’s face. I was speaking with the other squirrels and had agreed that Sargon primarily uses his right hand (fighting doesn’t count since he dual wields).

I have more planned for this AU. It’s full of hurt/comfort, whump, etc. My poor boy is really in for it

[sprrky]

something something screwtio something something the woes and wonders of a human-robot relationship something something learning from each other as equals something something affection displayed by mental connection sometjing something time passing and the memory of one living on in the other eternally idk idk

[icejello]

To be a king who's abandoning my duties and disguising myself as a normal human to enjoy the city and then meeting a badass woman who will kick my ass and immediately falling in love with her. I hide my identity from her and she treats me like I'm a loser I'm a simp so it doesn't matter. I would then have a son with her and I would be so happy but the both of us got betrayed and she was then killed by poison while our son survives. And I'm sorry but i couldn't be there for our son bcs now i have to atone for the things that happened and he reminds me of my beloved wife so much for it to not hurt when i look at him.

[gammija]

ive been trying for 30 mins to write a post about why the Web's plan is still confusing, but I think I should face the truth and admit to myself that it's not that it makes no sense, it's just... so convoluted

[jouska-the-deer]

People still suck at writing Sonic the Hedgehog

Interpretations of Sonic outside of media made by Sonic Team often seem either unable or unwilling to reconcile the fact that Sonic is both kind-hearted and intelligent, but I think I've noticed a recent shift in the way writers try to reconcile it.

In general, there seems to be this belief that smart people are inherently more pessimistic toward the world and that kind people are inherently more naive towards it. So, when writing for a character who's both smart and kind, less knowledgeable writers end up flanderizing them in one of two ways:

The first way, which is how Sonic was interpreted in Sonic Boom and prior, is making the character act like a jerk who knows best. At worst, they'll be outright rude towards their closest friends, but any criticism they get for it will be ignored because their opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative. At best, they'll sometimes make mistakes and learn lessons about being nicer to other people, which is something their non-flandarized self wouldn't have struggled with.

The second way, which is how Sonic is interpreted now, is making the character a saint who solves everything with friendship. At worst, they'll give absolute tyrants a million chances, but any criticism they get for it will be ignored because their opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative. At best, they'll sometimes make mistakes and learn lessons about certain people being unwilling to change, which is something their non-flandarized self wouldn't have struggled with.

You may have noticed I straight up copy/pasted a couple bits of those last two paragraphs. Well, that's because those bits reveal a bit of truth in how Sonic is portrayed by Sonic Team. Sonic's opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative, because of the lessons he no longer struggles with. Sonic already learned to balance his desire to give people a second chance with the fact that some people just have to be stopped. When? Since the very beginning. Sonic has always been trying to defeat Eggman for good while also giving second chances to people who he thinks deserve it.

But how do you deal with people who are causing so much harm when you still think they deserve a second chance? Guess what? Sonic answered that straight up in Sonic Adventure 1.

Do me a quick favor and if you can listen to Open Your Heart, specifically the Sonic Adventure 1 version (Click here). You may notice that there're two distinct sets of vocals; One clean and high pitched, and one distorted and low pitched. (And if you're wearing headphones the audio will even pan during the chorus.) For context, this is the song that plays while Sonic is fighting Chaos.

You can figure it out yourself from there, but if you want me to really dig into the topic, feel free to keep reading.

So like, I shouldn't have to say this, but the dark negative voice is Chaos' view and the light positive voice is Sonic's. But notably, they sing together during key points, specifically those related to the anger, sadness, and hopelessness that Chaos has been feeling for ages. Sonic has recognized that 1. imprisoning Chaos as suggested by Tikal wouldn't solve anything because, 2. Chaos is only acting this way due to being blinded by hatred for those he perceives as selfish monsters, and 3. he's still very much currently destroying the world and won't change his mind because he's lost hope that there's anything worth holding on to.

What does Sonic do then? Sonic may be an unstoppable force but Chaos is a seemingly immovable object. Well, he literally uses the positive energy from his friends and within himself to stop Chaos' rampage and prove that there are still good people in the world that want to maintain peace. After he loses the fight, Chaos is able to calm down and see that the cute defenseless chao he'd been protecting ages ago had survived, living among the very people he had assumed could only be power hungry monsters. He's able to let go of his hatred and live a peaceful life understanding that good people still exist and the world is still worth protecting.

And that's where the question is answered. How do you deal with people who are causing so much harm when you still think they deserve a second chance? You do everything you can to stop them, and if they're still around afterward, show them that they didn't need to fight in the first place. But that only works if they had a good reason behind why they were fighting, and would have chosen peace otherwise.

Sonic wanted to give Chaos a second chance because he knew that violence was not truly in his nature. Had he not been forced into those specific circumstances, Chaos would have chosen peace.

And that's what separates characters who have done a lot of harm but Sonic still gave a second chance to like Chaos and Merlina, from those who have done a lot of harm but Sonic wouldn't give a second chance to, like Eggman and Erazor Djinn. The former wanted peace but became convinced that it was impossible, and the latter only wanted power and were willing to hurt others to obtain it. The characters who Sonic won't give another chance to have proven that when dealt a better hand, they'll still chose to hurt others solely for their own gain, because that's what they want. To stop them peacefully, Sonic would have to convince them to give up their true dreams.

And that, is why Sonic's opinions get to always be treated as right in the games, because they are right. He has an absolutely kind heart, a nuanced understanding of morality, and the integrity to never give in to selfish desires.

None of this means Sonic is always right, though. Most people already know of his impulsiveness, which is his greatest weakest, but also one of his greatest strengths. Sonic never waits to act, which is great when innocent people are seconds from mortal danger... but not so great when a situation looks to be one way but is actually another. He teases Eggman for pleading for a second chance in Unleashed and he kicks the Cacophonous Conch from Eggman's hand in Lost World, and both of those were massive mistakes.

But, despite making those mistakes, his mindset wasn't the problem. How was he supposed to know Eggman was a shockingly good actor leading him into a trap? How was he supposed to know the people Eggman was controlling with the conch were equally as evil? (Yes Tails tried to warn him but literally if he didn't Sonic wouldn't have looked stupid and it just shows how poorly written Lost World was overall.) Had Eggman actually been pleading and the Zeti good people, Sonic's actions would've been justified.

Still, those were mistakes, and Sonic always wants to do what's right, so he does what he can to fix his own messes. He restores the planet Eggman broke apart. He stops the Zeti from sucking the life out of the planet. Sonic always makes things right in the end, and so he has the right to be so confidant in his beliefs. So confidant in fact that he doesn't care about looking like the bad guy if it means doing the right thing. Oh look, there's a song about that too. From Sonic's fight with Merlina in Sonic and the Black Knight. (Click Here.) Don't be fooled by the feminine vocals, if you paid attention to the themes of the game, the song is clearly from Sonic's perspective.

So yeah, Sonic is kind but he's also smart. He won't let anyone change his mind on anything, but he doesn't need to change his mind because he follows his kind heart and compassionate soul. He doesn't worry about looking like the bad guy because he and his friends know his true nature. When he gets angry he lets his rage fuel his desire to save the day. He'll never shed tears of despair because he knows that if he keeps fighting he'll make things right in the end. Sometimes his impulsiveness gets him into trouble, but it also helps get him back out. No matter what happens to him, he'll always make it out in the end either through sheer determination or the help of his friends.

Sonic is absolutely silly; He makes dumb jokes about his enemies and talks to himself when there's nobody around. Sonic is completely serious; He's willing to kill someone if it means saving the world and has felt multiple friends die before his eyes and in his arms.

Sonic is literally just some blue hedgehog who can run really fast.

Sonic is a god, and could kill god, and there is not a difference!

But most importantly, Sonic is all of those things at once. He is a wonderfully balanced character who's been right from the very beginning and has spent all his games sharing his wisdom with others simply by being himself. He isn't perfect, but that's not due to some personality flaw he needs to correct, but because nobody can always have all the answers and know how to avoid all potential mistakes.

The problem is, writing a character like this is hard. Writing conflicts for a character like this is hard. Most writers rely on making their protagonists work through relatable flaws to create an emotionally compelling story... but you don't need to do that. Sonic's conflicts are mostly external, but we care about him succeeding anyway because he's a good person who's just trying to live his life.

So really, if you wanna write Sonic well, you have to just let him speak for himself.

...By the way I mean that literally. Dude listen to his character theme it's all right there! (Click here.) Even when his theme was altered in Sonic Adventure 2 the only thing that changed was how confidently the same ideas were delivered. (Click here.) But seriously listen to literally any of the game themes, final boss themes, and ending themes. (I'm not linking all that.) No matter the quality of the games, if Sonic wanted to teach you something he was gonna teach it... through the power of having a music department detached from the nightmare that is game development time crunch.

And that's why Sonic Lost World is the worst Sonic game. Because it was so pointless that Sonic didn't have anything to sing about!

Wait... what was the point of this post again?

[weidli]

[ID: an edited version of the Jenny Slate "I had to unfollow NASA" meme from Drunk History. the edited caption of image 1 is "I had to stop watching Außer Gefecht because it made me too crazyyy.", image 2: "It would just be like, So war das nicht gemeint, mit den getrennten Wegen.", image 3: "And I was like: (in caps) *screams*." /end ID]

this post is a lie i have not and will not stop watching außer gefecht

[wammypilled]

unpop opinion but out of the two i think Matt would be far more likely to have a praise kink. Mello would perhaps be more into degradation from having to act all smug and self-assured every day

[castielmacleod]

Hi! Have you already made a post about the parallel of both Crowley and Cas digging a bullet (specifically targeting them) out of their bodies to triumph over their enemies?

I feel like I've seen it.

Hello! I have not, though it’s neat that they both do that! I think it’d be fun to pretend Crowley got the idea from Cas in the first place, after learning what happened to Ion, before getting the chance to use it himself. Although if I remember correctly, Abaddon also frees herself from the devil’s trap bullet by digging it out (with her severed hand no less—VERY metal of her) so maybe it’s just the thing to do lol. Nothing tops Cas sticking his bullet in his opponent’s eye though, that was wicked clever.

It’s interesting that Abaddon wasn’t bothered that Crowley might attempt to free himself in more or less the same fashion she herself so recently accomplished, though I think she only wanted to slow him down rather than actually keep him in place permanently? So maybe it wasn’t a high priority for her anyway. Or maybe the writing is just bad 😭

Anyway if that post about Cas and Crowley’s tactical similarities does exist and you’re able to find it again, let me know! I’d love to have a look.

[tklpilled]

i think i like dazai. slightly less after today!