#papa mud

[comicwaren]

From Strange Academy: Finals #003

Art by Humberto Ramos and Edgar Delgado

Written by Skottie Young

[jess-the-vampire]

Does arofam!luz get titan powers or does arofam!hunter get them instead?

tbh i have not figured out what the heck to do with WAD as an episode in the au

BUT, i did make a titan hunter around the time the episode aired

so i could use that, since i spent all that time on it anyway, once i have some idea of how to make it make sense.

i updated it a little from the previous design, i actually really like this one.

[soulsoffairlight]

[dotster001]

Meeting Their Future Kids With You

Summary: Vil/Idia/Crewel/Crowley/Malleus/Rook x gn! Reader. A child suddenly appears. And it seems to have a connection to you? Requested by @stygianoir

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

CW: spreading my asexual Malleus agenda, especially now that I've been spoiled for the fact that the dragon lays an egg and all it needs is love to hatch. ASEXUAL MALLEUS CAN NOW BE CANON Y'ALL!!!! Anyways...his kid is the only one with physical descriptors, so do with that what you will 😅

3k followers masterlist

Something was wrong. There was a presence at Ramshackle that shouldn't be there. Could it be? Could someone be trying to steal you from him? No! He had only just started courting you! It wasn't fair. 

He poofed into your sitting room and froze. 

You were snuggling what looked like…a small version of him?

You looked up and your jaw dropped.

"Wait, I thought this was you!" You looked back down at the kid who giggled and made grabby hands at Malleus.

"Daddy!"

Ah! Yes, he understood now. Draconia genes were strong. This child clearly was barely old enough to even hold a human form, it was not out of the realm of possibility that it had accidentally used a time travel spell. Perhaps that was even the child's unique magic.

He walked over to the child in your arms, scooped it up, and gave it a soft kiss between the two tiny horns emerging from their head.

"It's wonderful to see you, but it's time to go home, little one."

The child nodded sagely and vanished in a puff of green smoke. You looked at him in complete confusion, but he simply laughed, repeating his kiss, but this time to your forehead.

He knew you were his soulmate.

He knew with a single glance. The familiarity the twin girls before him held in their gazes, the way they carried themselves, the hats on their heads. Everything screamed his influence.

And though that didn't make any sense, Rook knew his eye and his instincts were never wrong.

But there was something about the girls that was distinctly…..

"Rook! Hi- aw shit, please tell me you didn't kidnap some kids!"

So distinctly you.

The two girls shared what, to anyone but Rook, would seem like an unsettling smile as you approached the silent scene.

"Non non, they are just passing through, oui, petites fleur's?"

"Oui," they said simultaneously, grinning at you, their eyes taking in your every facial twitch.

"Uh, okay? Relatives of yours?"

"One could say that."

All three of them laughed, leaving you confused and a little frightened.

It was a normal day like any other. Searching for Epel who had once again fled his lessons.

And he had found him in the worst possible place. A mud pile with an already very muddy teenage girl.

Epel splashed the girl with a childish giggle, and she laughed hysterically.

"Papa was right, you were crazy!" She giggled making a mud ball and throwing it at him.

He dodged and it hit Vil.

"Ah shit," she whispered under her breath. But after a second of reflection, she grinned. "Wait, why am I scared? You're not the boss of me."

Vil glared, and she suddenly looked apologetic again.

Both Epel and the girl stared at the ground, completely avoiding eye contact.

"What school are you from?" Vil snapped at the girl.

She snickered but said nothing.

"Who do I report you to?"

She laughed louder. "Nah, I don't have to tell you shit."

"Language," he snapped, and tears filled her eyes.

"It was all uncle Epel's fault. I told him I didn't want to play in the mud, but he made me do it!"

"You absolute rat!" Epel shouted, picking up some mud and preparing to throw it.

Vil cast a quick spell, freezing both of you in place. He stormed over and snatched each of your wrists, preparing to storm off with the two trouble makers in tow, when he saw the shimmering gold bracelet on your wrist. Engraved on it was L/N-Schoenheit.

He stared for a moment, then groaned.

"Epel, remind me to never let you around my future child."

"He's my godfather," the girl grinned impishly, and Vil felt a part of himself die.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for my dad. You look like you could be related to him."

Idia knew he shouldn't have left his room today. All he wanted was a snack, and to maybe see you if you happened to not be in a class right now, and now this extroverted teenager was asking about his dad.

What the absolute fuck?

He quickly pulled out his ipad, typing something about how anyone related to him wasn't worth finding, when the twerp yanked the iPad out of his hands.

"Nevermind, I figured it out," the kid snorted. "Hi dad!"

Idia started stuttering. Not only was this twerp an extroverted teen who stole his iPad, he was also insane.

"Nah, nah, not today, not today…" Idia started muttering under his breath.

The kid rolled his eyes.  

"Forgot about this part. Guess they really did change you for the better," he started typing something on his watch, and a hologram popped up, showing the kid, you, and Idia…? Your and Idia's faces were a bit more lined than they were right now but….it was definitely you.

He stared at the hologram, his hair turning a bright red. 

"Oh! Hey Idia!" Your voice called from behind him.

He turned and waved to you shyly, then turned back to the teen. But he was gone.

And the damn boy stole his iPad.

If his hair wasn't already dyed, those two freshmen would have given him gray hair by now.

Once again, they'd made a potion explode in his classroom. And once again, the fallout would be a pain to clean up.

Where you had once sat was a small child. A small child who was looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" She asked.

At first he had assumed this small child was your child form. But no. She looked nothing like you. Though, she did have a similar glint in her eye.

"Who are you?" He asked softly, not wishing to scare the child with the rage that was building up inside him. He'd told you again and again that your friends were trouble, and now look where it got you.

Wait. Where exactly were you?

Before the girl could speak, a red smoke filled the room, and a him with a few more wrinkles appeared, dragging you by the wrist. Your face was covered in a vicious pout.

"I already told them," future Crewel said, eying the freshmen with a vicious glare. "No need to repeat it."

He opened his arms in front of the little girl, a warm smile taking over his features, as the girl climbed into his arms, snuggling into him. He pointed at you and the freshman one more time, said, "Behave." And vanished into red smoke.

Present day Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose, and pointed at you.

"He already said it," you snapped,punching Ace in the shoulder for good measure.

"Morning dad."

"Morning," Crowley muttered tiredly as he sipped his coffee.

Then he choked on it. There should be no one in his office right now. And there should be no one calling him dad.

He looked over and saw a kid who was somewhere between the age of 10 and 13 sorting through his stack of paperwork.

"Pardon me, but do you mind explaining what you're doing?"

The kid looked up and raised a brow in confusion.

"Um, morning paperwork?" He laughed nervously. "Wait did you forget that….uh, nevermind, I'll just go then."

The kid hastily made the papers into a pile, grabbed a backpack, and started to hustle out of the office. Only to be stopped when he bumped into you as you were storming into the office.

"Crowley! You promised you'd fix my goddamn roof!"

"Dad said I wasn't grounded anymore!"

Both of you shouted over the top of each other, and then stared in confusion.

The kid sprinted out of the office, knocking you over in the process.

Dire, meanwhile, released a delighted giggle, his face feeling warm as he grinned at you with a lovesick grin. Only to be annoyed as you brought up your roof again.

"If you excuse me, I have other things to attend to. I assure you that child will only cause trouble."

He ran out of his own office, no intention of actually finding his future son, only intending to hide from you.

Too bad you could always see through him, and were right on his tail.

[charliemwrites]

hi! just wanted to pop in and let you know that callsigns like “Daddy” or “Big Daddy” are not unheard of in the military. Most callsigns are actually nicknames you get from teammates ribbing on you— my grandpa was in the airforce and his callsign was, I kid you not, “Sucky Baby,” because he sucked up all the flight hours he could to be in the air as often as possible. I’m not in the military but I do airsoft for fun and I’m on a very tight-knit team, my callsign is “Ducky” as a play on “Duct-tape” because i’m constantly plastered with sports tape (and i’m always following my brother around, like a duckling). My brother’s is “Roy,” because the first game we played with this team he fell into mud, which is a nod to an episode of the IT Crowd where a character named Roy gets chocolate on his forehead and everyone thinks it’s shit. While Captain Daddy would have an “official callsign,” (much like Price’s Bravo-6), he’d likely have a more often used callsign within the ranks; something like Daddy, Captain Daddy, Big Papa, etc. So you absolutely could have his callsign actually be that :)

This is SUCH important information thank you for this!! I think the reactions to that dumb little offhand comment have convinced me that his callsign is definitely Daddy

[dadsbongos]

dog and rabbit

9.5 k words / summary - When your party is locked into a stuck trap, you and Laios are the only ones who can bare each other. You both want to be consumed, one literally, and know that only the other can fulfill your desire.

warnings - reader with she/her pronouns, cannibalism as a metaphor for love/cannibalistic thoughts and imagery, fully romantic but no upfront confession, allusions to spoilers but everyone should be safe to read, reader has ego issues and parental issues, laios and reader are both FREAKS, starvation as a plot device

~~~

pt 1 - dog eat rabbit

Mama’s hands are crusted with drying mud, dirt flakes up her bare arms as she smooths a lumpy plot. She’s knelt down, across from her is Papa, and beside Papa is his dog -- tail wagging and mouth dangling open to pant, pant, pant. Between them all is the small rectangular grave Mama just finished pampering. A thin stick sits up straight from the head of the filled hole. You stand at the other end, staring at Papa’s dog with ambivalence.

You wanted to sanitize her vibrant scratches and swelling bite marks, and you wanted her scrapes to get infected. You hoped she would recover to her yippy self soon, and you prayed the mounting limp from her front right paw was permanent. You’d be devastated if she died of her injuries, and you’d find the death to be just.

She’s terrible.

You mock up a world where she was the one eaten instead.

She’s your sole best friend now.

You hope she’s full, no longer at risk of starving to illness.

“Sit, girl,” Papa beckons, a calloused, wrinkled finger directed towards the gaping spot by your mother’s side, “Be respectful. You wanted this memorial, now be part of it.”

“I didn’t want- !“

As if sensing your following words, Mama hisses a sharp shush, then pats the ground beside her. Papa raises a brow at you, testing. Sunlight burns your back, and you spontaneously decide the shaded spot by your mother is more appealing (entirely unrelated to your parents’ demands).

Now, you are face to face with your new best friend because she is your real best friend’s murderer. You hate her. You love her. You want her to feel every shred and tear and pierce she inflicted upon your bunny.

“Darling,” Mama coos, fingers dancing up your shoulder and through your hair, uncaring for how she ruins the strands, “be realistic. A simple marsh rabbit was never going to survive out here.”

“He followed the river out for a reason,” you murmur, now looking down from the big, remorseful, wet eyes of Papa’s dog, “We were meant to be best friends.”

“You’re not a baby anymore,” Papa snaps, rising onto his feet, he glares at you. He glares at you with deep lines retracing their places in his forehead, and his hands clench so hard they shake, until they suddenly go lax. He waves both hands out, shaking them free of all tension as he sighs and turns and prattles down towards the ocean.

His dog follows, slower than she used to with a pause and caution fresh to her gait, licking his hand as he pulls free his fishing pole from the sand. Mama pats down your back and mutters apologies.

You rise shortly after and whistle the dog back into your small shelter, knowing how her wounds will burn should she follow your father into the lapping sea water. She licks your face and you pet around the open scratches from this morning.

You dream that night of what would happen if you let her wander into the ocean.

You wake up with an incredible sense of guilt.

…

“I’m so tired,” Marcille dregs her weight onto your back, causing you to stumble under the sudden hefty addition, “We should stop soon!”

“Agreed,” Chilchuck huffs, stretching his arms out in front of him.

“How about you?” Laois coils at the waist to glance back at you, brows raised high, “Packs wearing you down?”

“No!” you howl defensively, hands wriggling deeper into the leather of Chilchuck’s waterskin when Marcille moans in protest to your denial, “But! If everyone is tired then we should settle down, probably. I think.”

“I think so, too,” Laios nods, deferring to Senshi -- the pair murmuring about which of the dark archways lining the dungeon hall leads to a safe rest stop.

Your party finally piles into an off-room, Marcille still slouched against your back to send you both careening towards the far left end of the cellar.

“Hmm,” Chilchuck points up towards a series of holes in the cobbled archway, “It looks like this room’s rigged to lock us inside. So be careful to not step on this tile, it’ll activate the- !”

Senshi grunts over the sudden sinking in his left side, foot slid over the edge of the stone Chilchuck’s index finger is aimed at, “Whoops.”

A scream escapes the half-foot, Chilchuck narrowly rolling out of the way of downcoming spears. Pointed ends stab towards the cobblestone floor, tips scraping rock, effectively trapping your lot into the cellar.

“Eek!” you scream, both hands pawing at Laios’ arm, “We’re gonna die in here!”

“Shut up, we’re not gonna die in here,” Chilchuck groaned, rising to his knee to inspect the lock attached to the middlemost bar, “I’ll get it open in the morning. If anything, it might help keep us secured overnight, so I can’t be mad.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” you ask, Marcille nodding in backup to your question.

“It’s a pretty simple lock, so it shouldn’t cause me too much grief in the morning.”

Laios nods, stepping back carefully to avoid jangling you off his arm as he sets out his sleeping bag. You stand over him now, hands splayed gently across his back as he flattens his mat, “If you’re gonna stay by me, could you help me get my armor off?”

If anyone except Laios were to ask, you’d probably take offense to the wording -- but it was Laios, and you know Laios well enough to know he’d never want to hurt your feelings.

So you nod, despite the fact he cannot see you, “Of course!”

Neither you or Laios is certain when physical contact became so normal between you, only that now it's strange for Laios to remove his heavy plating without you. So he tries to suck up every opportunity he can now, requesting your assistance whenever the party stocks into a room with a door to keep out ambushers.

“Hey,” Marcille beckons from across the room, already having set out both your mats, “I thought you’d be by me tonight.”

“I will be! Just… helping…” you return focus to Laios, giddily undoing the leather straps of your leader’s grieves before rushing off his pauldrons.

“Thanks again,” he works off the clasps on his arms, slinking free from each piece with a noisy series of clunks and thuds.

“I love helping,” you rationalize quickly, face alight with glee as you wait for Laios to set aside his gorget. Once given a go-ahead nod, you eagerly grasp the lip of his cuirass by the waist and tip upwards. While you’re not lying about your natural proclivity to be helpful, you’re also not terribly against feeling the broadness of Laios’ body up close.

You blame it on admiration.

You admire how he can move so smoothly in such heavy pieces. You admire how despite the both of you being tall-men, he’s managed to occupy the stature to a fuller extent than you. He’s not just big because of his race, but he’s got real discipline to continuously train and hone his combat skills. His muscles are as aesthetically pleasing as they are a sign of his dedication.

In a weird way, you think every monster to be eaten by him should be honored.

Ironically, that night you dream of the party’s first encounter with monsters you couldn’t eat: Orcs.

…

“First ones to die are the ones with the weapons!”

“Aah!” you shriek, immediately releasing your daggers so the blades crash by your knees with a faint tink, tink, tink, “I’m unarmed! Please don’t kill me!”

“Have a backbone!” Chilchuck shouts at you, though beads of sweat are pouring down his face as well.

“I don’t wanna die, Chilchuck!” you cry, sniffling.

“I don’t either, you know?” he hisses in your ear.

Your eyes are too clogged by waterworks to make out the following dispute between Senshi and the Orcs. Now hugging a pair of onions to your chest for support rather than your teensy needlepoint daggers.

“Them veggies be something you grew, I guess?” despite the lilt in his tone, you don’t take the Orc Chief’s tone as a question, “We’re on a supply run lookin’ for food. ‘Preciate if you’d share them with us.”

“Sure, be happy to. What you got to trade for them?” Senshi must be crazy to expect a trade with big, hungry Orcs with big, shiny weapons surrounding you all.

“No trade. Tribe’s desperate, we barely got up to this floor alive. You’ve been a good friend and I hate to do this, but… hand over everything you got. Right now.”

You fumble the onions between your arms, then shirking off the carrots tangled in your bag’s side pockets. Senshi glares at you through his peripherals, grumbling quietly for you to pick the crops back up before returning to his parley with the Orcs.

Unfortunately, your obvious compliance earns you no favor compared to your comrades.

“Coward,” Marcille thunks her head against the cabbage in her hands, “Coward!”

“I was scared!” you wish you had your forfeited onions back, even if only to provide something to cling to. The space between your arms feels so glaringly empty it makes your racing heart swerve to overdrive.

“Everyone was!” Chilchuck glares up at you, then toward Senshi, “Except that idiot.”

“Be nice,” you knot your fingers together, only to watch them unravel again as your group is herded towards the Orcs’ makeshift camp. Then, you look to Senshi for backup, “Besides, they were getting thrown out if we couldn’t trade, right? What’s the harm?”

Senshi shakes his head at you disapprovingly, and it oddly cuts deeper than when your father would do the same, “You need to stand your ground, that’s the difference.”

“Don’t antagonize her,” Laios jumps in, voice level in spite of the agitated pinch in his brow, “You all know she hates pain.”

“Who doesn’t, dumbass?!” Chilchuck grits, quickly hushing himself, “None of us want to suffer.”

With admittedly no comeback, even with all your prayers that he’d clunk one together, Laios shrugs, and -- as if sensing your dilemma -- sticks out his bicep for you to hug to your chest.

…

You woke up feeling despondent, gloomily rolling up your area and preparing for the day’s adventure while Senshi made breakfast. And as much as you wish Laios’ curiosity could inspire any excitement within yourself to try the lumpy larvae porridge from cellar-dwelling insects, you’re really not craving any.

“Hey!” but there the blonde is, calling to you and restlessly patting the floor beside him, “Come on, it’s almost ready!”

With weak, frizzly resolve, you conceded in an instant. Just as instantly, you regret it.

Faint, tangy iron clings to the gum of your mouth. A sourness washing over your palette soon after. Your lips press tightly before your tongue lolls out and you’re scraping the harsh edge of your spoon down your flesh, “Blehhh…!”

“Seriously?” Chilchuck sighs, though not withholding his own scrunched face, “You’re acting like a kid.”

“It’s gross!” you whine, bowl clattering between your legs, “It hurts my mouth!”

“Really?” Laios leans in from your left, his chest, while still unguarded, crushes against your shoulder, pointing down into your bowl with his own spoon, “Mind if I have yours?”

“Be my guest,” you slide the bowl his way, then squishing the tip of your tongue into your top gums, “I think it burnt a dent in my mouth.”

Chilchuck groans this time, loud and abrasive, eyes narrowed at you, “It’s not even that bad.”

“You’ve been brainwashed! Monster guts are monster guts, and this time their stomach acid burned my mouth!” you look to your right, at the elf contently munching on Senshi’s cooking, “Right, Marcille?!”

(Senshi’s rebuttal of, “Ain’t no guts in this.” goes unnoticed)

“Hm?” she withers under your pointed stare, shoulders shriveling towards her chest, “I mean, yeah, it is weird…” then she lifts her bowl level to her face, dodging your gaze, “But I don’t think it's burned my mouth.”

“Maybe I’m allergic,” you drivel, focus flitting to Laios’s hands as he grabs your serving to dig in -- even licking the excess off your abandoned utensil, “If I’m allergic I might die…”

“Or you’re just crazy,” Chilchuck intervenes.

“Be nice to me!” you cry, raising a fist as if to strike the man over your fire. You’d never, you don’t have the courage.

Laios nods, “Be nice.”

“You’ll be hungry later,” Senshi chastises, “Eating is the privilege of the living. You’re squanderin’ it.”

“We’ll have lunch later,” you curl your knees to your chest, binding them with both arms tight around your thighs, “I can wait.”

“Who says we’ll find anything worth eating?” you doubt Chilchuck cares about either your stomach or Senshi’s cooking, you instead boldly assume he just wants to keep lecturing you.

“We will!” you lay your head against Laios’ shoulder, peeking up at the man through your lashes, “Right, Laios? We’ll find food again today.”

“I mean, yeah,” he blinks down at you cluelessly, “Deeper we go down, the more we’re bound to find!”

“See! We’ll find food!”

“It’s too early to be fighting…” Marcille frowns, eyes flicking from you to Chilchuck, and back to you.

Chilchuck retires his own bowl and grossly wipes his mouth off with his arm before scooching to the door, waving off whatever retort could follow.

Senshi takes both yours and Laios’ bowls once both are emptied before turning to you, “You may want to dig into the spare snacks in your bag anyway. Ain’t good to start the day on an empty stomach.”

His sudden warmth inspires a molten ooze in your own chest, you shyly nod before muttering, “Sorry for calling your cooking gross… it isn’t, actually. I liked- !”

“Larvae pods can’t be for everyone,” he cuts you off with a speedy recovery, “More for the people that do enjoy it.”

“Thanks for sharing!” Laios claps your back, trying to be friendly and only rattling your balance.

Senshi and Laios begin packing up as you spindle onto your hands and knees to crawl the couple of paces towards your bag. Creeping a hand under the flap to dig for treats, your whole body spiking with goosebumps and raised hairs when you distinctly miss any indentation of rations in your palm. You prattle forward another two knees-worth and unlatch the golden clasp to dig through your bag.

“Oh, no…” you mutter, movements growing more agitated the longer you go without finding food, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

“You okay?”

You jump back, clenching both hands over your heart and nodding rapidly, “Yeah, fine! No worries here, Laios!”

“Sounds good!” he backs away to continue assisting Senshi.

“No!” suddenly, Chilchuck’s voice stabs through the room, “No, no, no, no, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Marcille rushes over, clutching Ambrosia between unsteady palms.

Thankfully the party’s attention pivots to the screaming lockpick and you get the grace of pretending there’s absolutely more food left for your group. No problems here!

“It’s jammed!” Chilchuck wrangles the silver bars, then latching onto the boxy lock itself as if to choke all life from the metal, “How am I supposed to pick a lock if the lock isn’t sufficient quality?!”

Or, apparently, you cannot pretend. At least not for long because a problem arose on the opposite side of the cell.

“You can get us out though, right?” Marcille’s grip on Ambrosia loosens, even calm enough to lay the staff against a wall.

“Of course, I can. Who do I look like?” Chilchuck scoffs.

Silently, you beseech Chilchuck’s expertise surpasses this lock’s apparent lack thereof.

“So, how’s the door?”

.

.

.

“Still not open!”

“I thought you were a specialist on these things, Chilchuck.”

All fiddling and knocking ceases in an instant, Chilchuck now staring dead-eyed at Laios for his unwelcomed quip.

“So scary,” Laios whispers beneath his breath, then turning towards you with a subtle downturn of his lips, “What’d I do?”

Hugging yours and Chilchuck’s bags closer to your chest with a stilted shrug, you reply, “I guess he didn’t appreciate the input.”

“I thought- “

Chilchuck’s icy stare kills your leader’s words in his throat.

“Well, we still have leftovers, so we aren’t in trouble of starving for awhile,” you fabricate, digging a hand through your bag to aid your illusion of ease, “When we do run out, I have a plan! So don’t worry about going hungry.”

“Hm?” Laios quirks a brow at your uneven grin.

Before he can prod for more direction, Marcille’s popping back and relieved groan creak through the room. She arches up from her recline on the ground, gold tresses fluttering out around her head. With more huffing and moaning, she flips onto her stomach and stablizing onto her elbows to stare at Chilchuck’s twiddling. Poking and striking various chords and rods within the lock’s bottom hole, you can hear Chilchuck’s frustrated swears in both common and native tongue (though the longer he goes without success, the more obscure and foreign his curses sound).

You’d hate to see Chilchuck face more defeat than he’s already bore. Few hours have passed since waking to find yourselves locked in the dungeon cellar. Chilchuck will soon be considering blood sacrifices made from all four of you, you fear.

“You know, it’s been awhile since I could wash my hair… would be nice if we were out so I could take care of that,” Marcille grins, already knowing the response she’ll pull talking like that.

“Marci, be quiet…!” you whine anxiously, eyes narrowing on Chilchuck’s back.

The man slowly turns his head to narrow his eyes at Marcille, “Huh?” she shrugs coyly, curling a finger into framing strands of her long hair, Chilchuck laughs. Rage thinly veiled by (obviously forced) lightheartedness, “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Guys!” you wail, “Please!”

Senshi sighs through his nose, murmuring about kids bickering as he polishes the knife you only see used for cooking.

Tense silence descends upon your group once again.

Turning to the blonde at your side, you murmur, “I’m more worried about how to keep from getting bored. I feel like boredom is when everyone starts hating each other…”

Laios straightens up at your concern, twisting noisily through his personal bag to drag out a leather bound journal, “I could show you my notes about monsters! They’re pretty long so it’ll take awhile, perfect way to kill time while Chil’ gets us out!”

Nodding, you lean into his side, watching intently as he recites each tidbit and offbeat scribble as if by heart. You notice that none of the writing is as softened by print or recognizable as what’s scrawled in his guide on edible monsters. You don’t think this book has been exposed to the party yet, and that thought is patently delightful. That you are so dependable to Laios he’s willing to show off something born from his raw passion.

“It was something I teased when I was by myself,” he confesses, cheeks glowing rosy at the vulnerability of it all, “When I started wondering about the integrity of the Gourmet Guide, it inspired me to make a real guide. So, even though I’m sad the author probably never ate the monsters they wrote about, I can still honor the passion it gave me.”

“Wow,” you turn onto your hip and cradle his arm against yours. Perhaps overly casually, you sling a leg over one of his and rest your head against his shoulder, his chill shirt icing the heat on your own cheek (his simmering skin beneath quickly reheats it), “You’re really cool, Laios.”

Marcille’s side-eye goes unacknowledged when you say that.

“Seriously?” you’re easily distracted from everyone else when Laios is grinning so brightly at you, “You think so?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re really cool, too,” he wishes he could say more, but your pretty face so close to his is strangling his bravery.

That night, you have the strangest dream.

…

A lion of gold fur and pearly wings looms over you, globs of His drool hanging and dribbling onto your forehead. Temptation to reach up and comb your fingers through His mane rushes through you -- but you cannot move. Limbs bogged by a weight unseen, and then there is a dog.

Big black eyes pour down on you, front paws plastered at each side of your waist to hold himself up. Pointed teeth peek through its panting snout -- bloodthirsty growls verberating low through its body. You blink and the dog is different. Yipping like a friend, tail wagging at the sight of you, it licks your cheek. You blink and the dog is gone, replaced with a fellow tall-man. Armor removed and shirt hanging low, you can make out his collarbones and the dip down towards his chest -- if you dare to stare straight down then you could make out the handles of his hips.

Blood stains the seams between his teeth, chin glistening with crimson gush. Faintly, you can make out the sensation of lips puckered around your fingers; sucking and nibbling at your nail beds. Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi. They all seem so at ease, faces completely lax similar to those of nursing kittens.

Laios’ lips press into your neck, hot and cold clashing when he introduces teeth. You can’t even feel the pain as he digs in -- instead, you feel just as calm as your friends look.

You feel serene.

Marcille snaps a finger bone like it's a carrot between her molars. Chilchuck and Senshi lave the spilling blood from her cheeks. They can’t get enough of you. Laios burrows his arms beneath your waist, pressing your body closer into his as he desperately tongues your flesh down his throat.

Hungrily and contently, they swallow you down. Every morsel.

You feel most loved.

…

You woke up feeling grateful.

Chilchuck has not yet gotten your party free. As the day progresses, you feel that gratitude leaking over the floor. It curdles in the open air and soaks into the bottom of Marcille and Laios’ shoes as they ask you to unlock your food pouch.

Cheerful, expectant faces haunt you from above. Marcille, of course, has nothing but patience for you, but the killer is Laios. Obviously. Laios, who so, so fervently and imperatively trusts you so, so wholeheartedly is your biggest problem in this fiasco. He always looks at you like you could never do anything wrong, and you’ve never hated it until now.

Wide, twinkly amber eyes drill into you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had to dig into the rations, I don’t even remember what’s all in there.”

Marcille nods in agreement, excitement at the prospect of eating obvious in the drool pooling in the corners of her mouth, “Right? It’ll be nice to have something non-monster related, at least.”

“You think so?” Laios pouts, “I thought you were warming up to eating monsters.”

“It's still not my first choice!”

In the midst of their spat, your attention is split between trying to conjure a plausible reason to deny them; and manifesting a destiny where they forgot why they approached you.

By the time Marcille’s tummy croaks through the cramped room, neither has come to fruition. She cups the pouch of her stomach, embarrassed at its echoing rumble.

“Jeez, thought I was hungry…” Chilchuck teases from his post at the door.

“Hey! That was a totally reasonable sound for how long it's been since we ate. And who’s to say that was even me? It could’ve been Laios!”

“It wasn’t,” Senshi adds.

“Definitely wasn’t,” Chilchuck’s sly grin cracks upon the sound of his own gut joining the conversation.

“Ha!” Marcille’s joy is usually able to cleanse your dreary moods, but usually you’re not keeping such a destructive secret.

Usually, you don’t freeze yourself in place like it’ll prevent your party from noticing you’re still alive -- all to avoid them asking the same question from minutes ago,

“So, can you open up the food pack?”

You are not so lucky.

Laios has asked you again.

Rare is it for you to refuse him, because rarer it is for him to ask something outrageous or impossible (or impossibly outrageous) of you. This is the one in a billion chance that you must turn him down. But how can you when he’s looking at you so kindly?

A frazzled, puny No trapped in the back of your desiccate throat when suddenly Senshi says it for you.

“Best to save our rations so we can eat right before we leave.”

Senshi’s trust in you makes you somehow more nauseous. Marcille’s downtrodden agreement makes that stacked nausea triple. Laios curling up beside you to keep you company makes you so electrified you’re certain to be hiccuping bile soon.

(you don’t end up puking, thankfully)

That night, you dreamt of the time you and Laios met.

…

He’s really beautiful, it's the first thing you notice about him. Too beautiful to be a dungeon crawler, Laios’ face is more befitting of royalty. To be praised and swooned over and kissed.

“It’ll be less pay than, well, our swordsman or mage.”

You think his thoughtfulness makes him more beautiful.

Strangely, you feel the need to comfort him. Overcompensate the mediocrity of such a position simply so he doesn’t feel guilty hiring you (because in the back of your head is the fear that if he feels guilty, he simply won’t take you on).

“That’s fine! I don’t mind at all, as long as I get any money I couldn’t care less.”

You just want a house. You just don’t want to suffer.

“Alright, then, looks like we have a carrier,” Laios looked to Falin, the girl nodding with a cheery smile.

You just want to be as close to the beautiful, shining, gnashing sun as possible.

…

You woke up feeling thirsty.

You’d twisted over to dig out your watersack when you found that your entire pack was missing. Ice spilled across your entire body at the sight, a swelling, obnoxious anxiety aching through your nervous system. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and you could hear the blood pumping through your ears.

Slowly, your head swivels around the room, until you find your pack in the arms of another -- who is now settled across the room rather than beside you.

Peculiarly close to Senshi’s pseudo-camp, Marcille is scratching your bag tightly to her chest.

“Marci,” you call, dredging the boys’ curiosity towards you. You don’t know if she’s taken the liberty of looking inside, “Give that back…”

She does not, merely hugging the leather tighter. Such desperation clues you that she’s most likely just as oblivious about the bag’s contents as everyone else is. Her stomach rumbles loudly, you swallow dryly and wet your lips to beg.

“Marci, please!”

The elf hisses back, not unlike a pestered kitty, and clutches your pack tighter to her chest. She glares through her lashes, kicking her legs out when Laios reaches to take your bag back.

Senshi shakes his head and rises from his own spot in the corner. Marcille’s gaze hones in on the dwarf instantly, and she whirls around to face the wall -- now caging your bag to her chest.

“Marci,” you retry weakly, “please, hoarding isn’t- !”

She silences you with another shortburst glare over her shoulder, “Who said I was hoarding?” she ‘hmph’s and shakes her head, “How do I know you won’t just eat it all as soon as I’m not looking?! Huh?! You’ve gone the longest without food after all!”

You gasp at the accusation, then sparing a glance up at Laios to see if he’s buying her tale, “How could you say that? I always share! It’s everyone’s food!”

“Marcille,” Senshi commands cooly, standing at your side, “you should know that isn’t like her. We all share our food so nobody goes hungry. To intentionally starve others is just cruel.”

“Exactly!” you plea, shakily reaching out only to yank your hands back to your chest when she snaps at your fingers with full teeth, “Just give it back, please?!”

Laios frowns, visibly uncertain how to bring you and Marcille back to the giddy lounging gals you were mere days ago, “Marcille, you two are friends -- if you know she’s never stolen before, why would she start now?”

Marcille sharply redirects her stare into the corner, shrugging and clutching the pouch tighter.

Chilchuck bangs his forehead into the door, “Children.”

“Marcille…” you whimper, hot in the face and barely believing you’re even telling the truth right now. You’re delirious with dehydration and hunger and skepticism that you’re being honest, making it hard to see straight. Elf and tall-man faces blur together, Senshi is blotted out by the black dots in the corners of your vision, and Chilchuck is a mere speck. Far, far away. You feel far, far away. Like you could die, like you’re dreaming, and oh as the words come out of your mouth you’re actually hoping that you are dreaming, “it’s empty.”

Every head snaps to you. All dizziness snaps into hyperawareness. At minimum it's two degrees colder than it used to be, you can hear the sound of your own breathing, and the smell of mold rots away every other scent in the room.

You shrink into yourself and barely scrounge the courage to keep from curling into a rocking ball of apologies. Your disbelief doubles when you realize you’re still looking Marcille in the face -- eye to devastated eye.

“It’s empty?”

“It’s empty…”

Senshi steps back from your side, you want to dig your nails into his ankles and drag him back. You don’t. Laios retreats as well and you selfishly wish he’d just pierce you with his sword, if only to end this humiliation and regret. Now that everyone’s staring at you, you realize you probably should’ve said something from the start.

“I thought maybe Chilchuck would’ve gotten us out by now… I didn’t think we’d still be here…” you try to reason.

The harsh clatter and clang of Chilchuck’s picks against the ground draws your attention, he’s got both hands knotted into fists. His face drawn in a slant, as if he’s silently asking you to repeat yourself. As if he didn’t quite catch that.

“Then it's my fault?” he swiftly dodges the arm Senshi puts out as a blockade, now in your face and far more threatening than usual, “You’re saying it’s my fault your pack is empty?”

“No! Just- !”

“So why even mention that?!” he huffs, “Why even say my name?”

“I just thought that once we were out we’d find more food and then it wouldn’t be a problem!”

“So you still wanted to lie to us?”

“I never said that! You’re putting words in my mouth! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Your plan was to intentionally hide the truth -- that’s lying!”

“No! It’s just hiding!”

Chilchuck screams, raw with frustration and unbridled by cumbersome words. He covers his face with both hands as if he’s in pain just to look upon you.

“I’m sorry!” you plea, now turning to Laios with weak sobs bubbling right beneath your skin. Your face feels as though it's been scorched with dragon’s fire, though your eyes are flooded wet, “I just didn’t want everyone to be scared. I would’ve told you once we were out! Promise!”

Laios always liked being close to you the best, including Falin. In the wake of her disappearance, his inclination towards your presence has only magnified. You engage his interest in monsters, you’re forward and blatant with your compassion, and your skin on his is always so soothing. Laios doesn’t guess if you’re genuine, he knows you are. He imagines that’s why when you touch him it’s so warm and calming whereas others’ makes him itch.

Your soul itself must be as sweet as the bottom innard of an ivy tentacle.

“I know,” Laios nods, smiling thinly, “I know you would’ve.”

If you say you thought it was for the best, then you really must have, and he can’t berate you for having a heart.

You return his grin threefold, overtly thrilled he’s believed in you, yet again.

“You’re kidding!” Chilchuck shouts, now tugging sharply at his hair in frustration, his face red, “Laios, how can you let her get away with this?!”

Marcille shoves your pack into your face, standing over your toppled form. She looks like she hates you.

Now you’re the one cradling a food-barren bag to your chest. Laios assists you to your feet, prying your bag from your arms with gentle fingers to settle it along the wall. It sags, giving way to its empty stomach and collapsing over itself, folding into halves.

Marcille inhales deeply, mouth popping open to speak, but it's your resident half-foot’s voice that cuts through the air.

“Why are you here?” Chilchuck grumbles, glaring up at you.

His sudden venom stuns you into silence. Chilchuck’s face round with a specifically unfamiliar malice. Through his wired irritation at mimics and tentacles, he has never looked so particularly irked. So vexed. He looks like he detests your very face.

“I need money…” you murmur, curling into yourself the longer his terrible stare goes, “Just like you…”

“No. You’re not just like me, we’re not alike,” he’s unnecessarily defensive at your claim, “I’m useful. I work. You don’t do anything. Why are you here?” he lowers his voice, but you can’t mistake the change for any sense of relief, “There’s lots of things you could do for money.”

“Chilchuck!” Marcille wails, eyes wide -- snapped from their previous disdain and now fraught with shock and dread, her hands hover at her chest as if she could physically slice, rearrange, and mend the tension, “Don’t say that!”

“Be nice,” you wring your hands, “Be nice to me,” you frown, “I didn’t want to work a hard job, and being a carrier pays well enough. Then, uh, then I thought maybe I could be useful if I died… I could be like a meat shield, and then when I die you could eat me. You know, if you ever got stuck down here… like now.”

Chilchuck guffaws, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in distraught, “Eat you?! You thought we would eat you?!”

“I wouldn’t be offended,” shrugging, you crane your head down before subtly ticking sideways towards Laios, “You’ve never eaten human, right? I’m sure it’d be interesting.”

“How could you say that?!” Marcille buds in, once again on the offense. Senshi lingers in the back of your party, beneath the shaded hood of his helmet his gaze is steely. Determinately opposed to your very ideals. He’s eerily quiet, as if complying with Chilchuck and Marcille’s side will mistakenly motivate your own. That, or he’s so horrified none of his nerve endings will respond to his brain.

Laios does not refute your claim.

He swallows roughly, eyes darting to the floor.

“Everyone,” still staring at the ground, Laios steps between your group’s semi-circle, “Enough fighting,” his voice is quiet, too, but not calm. Ragged and soft, exasperated, “Please, stop fighting.”

A sturdy markdown of your offer never escapes his lips, though.

You nod slowly, “I’m sorry for being so useless. I thought I was doing something good…”

“You do,” Laios takes you by the shoulder, spinning you the other way towards your lone mat. His voice grows quieter, by the echo you can tell he’s talking to the others now, “Don’t antagonize her.”

Your sleeping bag is cold, it ruffles stiffly everytime you move. The fluffed material beneath your head fares no better, frost biting your cheek and lapping your splayed, exposed eyeballs. Tears prick as both eyes crisp dry -- cooled droplets dripping across your cheeks. Sorrow mixes with the salt, you thought you were doing good.

Perhaps by volunteering yourself to be used to the very last shred of meat, you could be more treasured. Cowardice outweighed by willingly absorbing the worst of your party’s instincts. By this method, you are more desired.

So you thought, but you’ve been rejected.

Squealing with protest, your sleeping bag retches around shivery shoulders as you smush your quivering lips into the material of your mat.

“These past couple of days have been hard on you, huh?” Laios unrolls his own sleeping bag beside yours. You flinch at the unwelcomed rumble of his voice, unfortunately he continues, “I get it. Everyone’s on-edge,” his comforting words fail to reach you, he slips into his bag, staring at you, “I hope you’re not sleeping yet… That’d make this kind of pointless…”

“Laios.”

“There you are,” he sighs, relieved, and you cannot imagine why. You don’t think there’s anything to be relieved about as long as you’re around, sucking up space and precious resources.

“Laios,” you call, “We should just do it. Right here.”

“Huh?”

You twist your head to peek over your shoulder, chilled tears drying tracks into your cheeks, confirming each of your friends is tucked and slumbering on the other side of the room. Surely, none of them would hear so long as you didn’t fight back; and you’re certain you won’t. Laios isn’t the type to make you suffer. He knows you hate suffering. He isn’t sadistic, after all, the only pleasure he takes in killing is the follow-up: eating.

“You want to, right?” you usually wouldn’t be so daring as to make the suggestion on your own, but food supply has dwindled too drastically by now. Everyone else can maintain their delusion all they want, but you know Laios is not one to deny himself, “Laios, you want to?”

He inhales sharply, molten amber eyes blazing through your face -- faint candlelight shines against his irises and bounces back the lump of your silhouette. Stubbornly, he says nothing -- neither nodding or shaking his head. Instead, he lies still, as if bitten by a Cockatrice.

“We can do it right now. They’re all asleep.”

Laios sneaks a hand through the neckhole of his sleeping bag, arm slithering out to soothe the pad of his thumb over your cheek. Silently, he appreciates the roundness of your face, the slope of your neck.

He does want to sink his teeth in, but this feels stranger than consuming monsters. It stretches far past the walking mushrooms or slimes on the top level; the problematic nature of your proposal even surpasses Chilchuck’s humanoid debate. You’re not a mere humanoid -- you’re human. Another tall-man. Your muscle composition is just the same as his -- your skeletons indecipherable from one another.

It shouldn’t be difficult to decide, Laios knows that much. He shouldn’t have to think about it. He shouldn’t shut down every time you mention it.

Despite that, he does -- he considers how the flesh of another tall-man would roll between his molars. Would the meat be salty? Or savory? How much fat should he trim -- or should he boil it all down just to save?

But aside from that, the reason he wants to mark your neck is not those taboo urges. Completely unrelated, in fact.

Laios’ fingers trail from your pulse point, curving along your exposed shoulder and dipping beneath your bag to dig blunt nails into your arm.

“No,” he squeezes your shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture, “Not you,” his hand retracts, coiling back to his chest, “I don’t want to eat you.”

“We’ll all die…” you frown, eyes of an iridescent sunshine sheen maintain their hold on you, “It’s better for one to go rather than the rest of the party, right? I can be useful like that…”

“I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” his eyes flutter shut, brows pinching towards the middle of his face. And he cares not for what that may say about him as a leader. He’d giddily offer up the entire party to be found by corpse retrievers before gobbling you down.

“But then why keep me around? I don’t do anything special like Chilchuck or Marcille. I can’t cook or fight like Senshi. And I’m nothing like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” he tucks his chin by his chest, still avoiding your stare, “I prefer you as you. I’m glad we know each other, I don’t care if you feel useless because you’re not. Just having you around makes me feel more alive. More excited to explore the dungeon, even before Falin got taken. I feel like I need you around more than before. Since Shuro said he hated me… I guess it’s been tougher to trust that I’m not annoying everyone. With you, though, I don’t even have to question it. Outside the dungeon, too, when we’re in town. It’s nice to be around you the most.”

His eyes are clenched tighter and tighter the longer his spiel goes on -- he cannot bear to look you in the eyes while guts and bile spew from his lips. His cheeks are red, raw from self-imposed exposure.

“Do you mean that?” you ask quietly, eyes so wide in shock he’s forced to meet them as he opens his own, “Am I useful to you, just because I’m me?”

He hums, nodding softly. Crude emotion overwhelms you at the admission; confusion and disbelief and desire tangle in your stomach, loose tendrils flapping up into your gullet and knotting around your uvula until you spit up a meek,

“Can I sleep with you?” as if he would refuse you, you tack on, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Wordlessly, Laios unzips his sleeping bag -- you crawl out from your own to invade his space. His body is soft yet firm against your back, and he makes a clear effort in keeping his breaths shallow. You can see the worsening red tint of his cheeks, even in the wavering candlelight.

Laios’ body goes limp once you’re settled beside him. Selfishly, you press into his lax form -- exhaustion and hunger making your head light. You’re not concretely sure you’re conscious right now. Maybe this is your final dream before you are culled by starvation.

Your stomach grumbles, and Laios pouts at the sound. Bringing one hand over his own abdomen, Laios edges his fingers around his ribcage. He can feel the bone’s impression. He hasn’t been able to feel the protrusion since splitting from the traveling caravan with Falin. He’s unaccustomed to starving himself, he’s unsure how much longer he can hold himself together. You, however, pay no mind to the sound.

You don’t so much as crimp into yourself.

“It’s kinda weird,” you muse suddenly, turning in Laios’ bag so your chest is pressed to his. Oddly, for all its intimate implications, the contact feels natural, “I hate suffering more than anything else, but I can’t bring myself to regret giving you my breakfast a couple days ago. Even though the suffering that nasty junk gave me was a lot better than how I feel right now.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Laios’ arms wrap around you, tucking you even closer to him and forcing your legs to mingle with his, “Eating is the best thing you could do for your body.”

“I’m happier you got to eat than I would’ve been after eating it. Besides,” you cant your head up, chin digging into the center of his thick chest -- looking up at Laios, “I prefer sleeping to nourish my body.”

“As soon as we’re out, you’ll have the most delicious meal we can make in the dungeon.”

He hugs you tighter.

You don’t dream that night. But Laios does.

pt 2 - rabbit eat dog

Laios’ cheeks sting in the frosty air, forearms and knees stubbornly tingling through the puffer of his red long-sleeve. Attempting to make out the space even five inches before his face is impossible through the thick, icy fog, but he knows the way. His feet pivot in perfect tune to each divot and roll of the plains.

He’s grown up here. Ran over these lands since he could lift one leg over the other, though now he is alone. Wandering with only the intent to find, and even then he is alone. Laios never feels more alone than when he is in a room full of people, at least in solitude he cannot be ridiculed or judged. Cowardly as it may seem to run from his problems, Laios chases relief -- where exactly that is, he’s unsure. His relief comes in forms that move, much more inconvenient than ale or tobacco but also much more divine. Moving sister, moving moon, moving monsters.

A cursory, confirming glance up gives sight to the real moon hanging above Laios -- a pale face beaming down to give light, only to be choked out by this unabating fog. Fond for night, Laios feels eased by the celestial. Nighttime, childishly, is something he’s always associated with terrible creatures in the bowls of dungeons. Besides that, is how quiet the house becomes past sundown, when the only conscious soul is his. Sometimes his sister stood up with him, too, and that was nice.

Nice, still, is the other moon’s presence. One less large and pale. One that walked at his side.

A soft glow scourges through the plumes of gray, encouraging Laios to quicken his pace. Warmth blooms across his frosted extremities, thawing stiff joints until suddenly he’s too hot beneath his puffer. Stripping the material, he’s left to sweat in a simple pullover shirt as he begins stumbling towards the glow.

Fog clears, drifting apart seamlessly.

Laios trips abruptly, seemingly over his own footing, before tumbling to his knees, hands scraping on hidden rocks and dirt clots. His eyes water from the intense sear of light painting the ground.

“Hey.”

Laios, against better intuition, feels a bizarre sense of calm wash over him at the voice’s intrusion. Perhaps specifically because of whose voice calls to him.

You loom over his huddled frame, just as bright and welcoming as the moon, and just as pretty too. Prettier, he corrects.

“Hi,” he returns your greeting lamely, rising slowly to a stand.

“You look hungry.”

Recently, Laios has discovered that even after a hearty meal his appetite is not quite satiated. During the brief moments where his mind can wander, he spends it contemplating what he could be eating in that moment. Well, that when he’s not thinking about you. While his stomach is not a bottomless pit ever unfilled, more often than not he’s adopting the attitude of well, i could eat. Not quite greed, not quite temperance. He’ll take what is offered and be gracious.

So, yes, in short, Laios supposes he is always hungry. Admitting that to you is particularly embarrassing, however, because you never seem hungry. Even when your stomach sings with starvation, your discomfort is completely invisible.

He used to assume it was your resilience -- a sign of your courage, to continue adventuring regardless of your terror.

(now, he’s starting to think differently, with your fresh disposition of raw nerves and desperation to be enjoyed)

“You’re hungrier, right?”

“Not really.”

“Oh…” he’s unsure how to respond. Trapped to stare at you while you stare back.

These parts of the fields are entirely unfamiliar to Laios.

“You should be hungry,” he tries to reason.

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Just a feeling, really.”

“What should I eat?” you frown, inching closer.

“Whatever you want,” he answers honestly. Laios believes in free will, but in some strange, completely unintelligible way, he thinks you deserve the most free will. He thinks you should do whatever you want, whenever you want, and he’s left confused how you don’t feel the same.

(feasibly in light of the night’s cannibal-themed fight) You suddenly suggest, “What about you?”

Laios freezes at that, all fire radiating from you icing over in an instant. Gaze sinking to his feet. Could he realistically agree to that? End his life to feed you? Does his devotion stretch so far?

Laios would hate to (permanently) die… but he would hate more for you to (permanently) die before him.

He dodges your question with one of his own, “Would you still like me if I was a monster?”

When he’s feeling distinctly indulgent, Laios flashes into long past fantasies of becoming a tri-headed beast.

And if he were to become one, would you gaze upon him just as kindly? Would Laios still be Laios to you?

His eyes follow each twinge in your face as you think, brows scrunching and bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Eventually you nod, slow and measured, “Yes. I would.”

Laios believes that, honestly. You would have to. You’re just that amazing. So, he should be amazing in equal measure -- or more, he should aim to impress you with his greatness.

So, yes. If you really wanted to. He could feed you with himself.

…

You wake up feeling unrefreshed.

Senshi, Marcille, and Chilchuck continue to bar themselves across the room from you. Laios freely travels from one end to the other despite your party’s annoyance with him. Grumbling stomachs echo from each person in the group now, and you wonder if maybe you should circumvent Laios’ rejection to feed your friends anyway. To make up for your various mistakes and blunders. It's only right.

You stare at Chilchuck’s back -- his arms no longer flailing with movement, hands instead paused around the box lock itself. He’s glaring at the mechanism, you think he’s hoping nobody notices his lack of effort. Marcille and Senshi are murmuring amongst themselves, casting wry glances your way every other sentence. Perhaps they’re discussing potential ways to make you suffer when they finally gut you.

You wouldn’t fight back, you know you wouldn’t. For the good of the pack’s survival, you’ll let them feast upon you.

(it does not once cross your mind that they could be talking about how to best convince you you’re wrong for writing your own consumption off so easily)

Laios sits at your back. Not moving. Not touching. Watching.

Your eyes drift from Chilchuck’s petrified frame to the floor, then to one cobbled block slightly lower than the others. About an inch below level, but not sunken in completely: the stone Senshi stepped on.

“Senshi?” you call.

No response.

“Hey, Senshi?”

He’s staring at you, but his eyes are hard to make out beneath his helmet. You shift upon your knees despite Laios’ soft bleat of disapproval. Marcille now stares as well, eyes much easier to spot when they’re wide with worry.

“I think this stone is…” you shove the step with your meager might and it budges a mere centimeter.

Laios’ hand overlaps yours, pushing down as well. The stone thuds loudly, and Chilchuck suddenly jumps back as the spears clink and shoot into the holed ground. He rockets back up to fuddle the lock, this time it clicks and pops open first try.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Chilchuck kicks up at the retreating bars in vain. He whirls around to see you and Laios hunched over the stone and sighs, silently passing you both to collect his bags and exit.

Senshi and Marcille follow example.

Laios unlatches from your back, and you miss his warmth more immediately than you thought you would.

“I think I should leave the party.”

“Why?” he frowns so genuinely, you’d be unable to buy his cluelessness if you hadn’t known him for so long.

“They don’t like me anymore,” you settle both hands in your lap, plucking at the skin around your nails, “They know I’m useless.”

“So?” his tone is soft, so opposite to his callous start, “I want you here more than anybody. I’m happy to have people I trust and who are good at their work, but I think if you didn’t come with us back into the dungeon, it’d be another thing I’m always thinking of instead of what’s in front of me. And nobody gets my fascination with monsters like you do.”

“Senshi does…”

“I like you more than I like Senshi.”

“Why?”

Laios opens his mouth, teeth white and glistening in the soft flicker glow of dancing orange candle flame. You await his bite. He closes his mouth. You wish you were so confident to pry it wide and press yourself into his cheeks. You wish he’d just eat you whole. Spare no mind to how the others thought of it. If they won’t accept you bones and all, then you’ll continue to long for Laios. You can do that easily. You’ve been an expert in the matter since you joined his group.

“Nobody else will take me, Laios,” you greedily grasp him by the shoulder, “I’m being so selfish, but I need you to- !”

He slaps your hand away, reaching over your offending hands to snag you by your own shoulders, “I don’t want to hear that, you shouldn’t talk like that! You deserve to live, and eat, just like everyone else! We’re friends as much as we are party members, right? They wouldn’t stick around if they weren’t. Your friends wouldn’t want you to be eaten either.”

You glance at the archway, none of the three others are visible, “Is that why they were mad?”

“I can’t speak for them, but you should be up front about how you feel. Talk to them before leaving,” he lowers his head, “If you’re planning to leave still, anyway. Though, I really hope you stay.”

Laios is too afraid to say he’ll beg, if it would enrich the offer. The mere idea of your face twisting angrily or an annoyed rejection slipping past your lips kills him. With both you and Falin gone, Laios would feel a sense of estrangement he hasn’t since his army days. Loneliness amplifying until it's unable to be ignored. The grief and confusion of your loss would muddy the remaining friendly faces in his party -- the taste of monsters would even be dulled. Humiliation would rattle his sense of self everytime he remembered that you’re not even dead, just drifted away.

He’d never survive without you, but he refuses to steal your entire life that mercilessly so he pretends he could.

“If we all just talk to each other, then nobody has to get hurt,” Laios’ hands lower to yours, he squeezes gently while avoiding your eyes, choosing to study the way you lean into his touch, “I don’t want you to go. And I don’t want them to be hurt.”

“Okay,” you rise onto unsteady feet.

Laios separates from you to begin stowing away both your belongings while you squirm into the hallway in front of your party. They shuffle awkwardly, with only Senshi capable of meeting your eyes. Yet he stands the furthest from you.

“I- “ the words dance over your tongue, you thought you were prepared to say them. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. But you can’t. The words trip and fall and tumble back into your throat before you surrender, “I don’t want to leave the party, but I am sorry for lying. I know I don’t do much, but I love adventuring with everyone. Really, I only- !”

“We were stressed,” Marcille steps forward, releasing one hand from Ambrosia to lay on your hand, “I don’t think it’d be easy on anyone to say the leftovers were actually gone. Especially when you knew that’s what we were relying on to not starve.”

Senshi nods slowly, “We weren’t expectin’ you to run off as apology. You’re young, you make mistakes.”

Marcille elbows your party’s half-foot.

Chilchuck sighs, shaking his hands out at his sides in the way your father used to, “I’m sorry. For calling you useless. I get why you lied, I probably would’ve done the same thing in your position to keep the party from freaking out. But, please,” his usually (deceptively) friendly and pleasant face has morphed into one of weary, a grown man concerned for a child, “Never say anything like that again. We don’t want you dead, let alone to eat your body. You have to plan to stay alive with everyone else, otherwise what’s the point of even joining the party?”

“Right. Sorry,” you blurt, increasingly ashamed of your suggestion earlier.

Their rejection stems not from disgust, then, but love.

They don’t want to eat you because to them you shouldn’t even die.

What a strange conclusion to now be forced to draw. You’re not sure how to swallow it, every time you try it rushes back up. Your friends’ concerned faces give you the determination to keep trying, though.

Laios barrels through the doorway -- redressed in his armor with the remaining bags slung over his shoulders, grinning broadly, “Looks like we can start walking again.”

Much to everyone’s chagrin, the trek towards the next floor begins on an empty stomach. When you reach up for the packs you usually carry, Laios jerks them from your grasp, you whine quietly, “Hey, that’s my job!”

“I know,” he shrugs the bags around his broad frame to fit them more comfortably, “but you haven’t eaten longer than me, and you didn’t sleep very well last night. So let me.”

His strides quicken until he’s by Senshi, you watch him point towards you and Senshi hums thoughtfully.

Your stomach rolls with hunger, and the sting makes you reach out for Laios. You slip your arms around one of his and cradle his elbow into your gut, reducing the ache with a different digging sensation. Laios leans towards you to make the work easier, all while continuing his conversation with Senshi about what the most delicious dungeon meal they could make you would be.

~~~

i like relationships where they dont understand each other but want to try anyway :3

i also love writing readers that are insane and fundamentally insufferable, but still loved

[lethalchiralium]

Glass Houses | Miguel O’Hara x Wife!Reader

a/n: look, i’m not ignoring anything (i am) i just couldn’t get this out of my head haha

warnings: fluff and angst 🫶

summary: It’s finally time for Gabi’s quinceañera, something Miguel had finally allowed her to have.

MASTERLIST

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi was having the best night of her young life.

Picture after picture, her pearly white smile was as bright as daylight. Her friends surrounded her, her uncles and aunts from both parents celebrated her quinceañera. It was the night she had been looking forward to, the night she had been begging you and her father for.

“Gabi,” He shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel was tight. “I told you we’ll think about it.”

“Papa, every girl I know gets a quince-“

“Gabi, lo digo en serio-“ Your hand settled on Miguel’s thigh gently, he took in a breath, growing frustrated with traffic and with himself. He spared a glance to you, your eyes on the road, but that still didn’t stop you from looking to him. “Mi vida, help me here.”

Your fingertips tapped his thigh, you turned to look over your shoulder at your darling daughter, still wiping off mud from that day’s practice. You glanced to Miguel as his hand slid down to settle on top of yours, fingers curled around your palm. Your husband has always trusted your judgement.

You squeezed his thigh before you responded, “Baby, Papa’s already doing so much for us. You need to give him time to get it worked out, it’s not a yes or no until he says so.”

The fourteen year old’s expression dropped, her body slumped into her seat. You frowned. “Why does he get to pick all of the sudden? You always set the rules, Mama-“

“Cuida tu tono con tu madre, Gabi.” His tone was calm, you could feel the bite of his words and watch how Gabi looked out the window in response. You deflated a little, you didn’t want to tell your perfect daughter that what little money you and Miguel had was running out. “Siempre escuchamos a mamá.” You squeezed Miguel’s thigh again, your eyes moved to gaze at the side profile you had memorized years ago.

“Mama, por favor,” You looked back to Gabi, your heart strings were tugged hard when you looked at her saddened expression.

A sigh escaped you before you turned forwards, the traffic now flowing much better. “Papa and I will talk about it.”

You watched your baby and her friends, all of them chatting away and laughing like hyenas. She was gorgeous, she looked truly happy; she spared a glance towards you, her smile so contagious that it made yours even wider. She was the spitting image of her father, just without the fangs. She waved a little, you waved back.

“We don’t have the money for it.” You whispered, arms tucked in between you and Miguel’s chest, fingertips gently tapping on his warm skin just below his collarbone. Your eyes could only watch your red fingernails as they drummed an unfamiliar melody into your husband’s skin.

He was watching you, it wasn’t hard for you to tell. His hand settled on your hip, the arm around your back gently stroked your shoulder blades with light fingertips.

“I’ll pick up more hours at Alchemax.”

“The mortgage is too much, Mig. I can get my job back-“

“No. Your back is still injured from the accident.” The car accident you had three months ago, where you were slammed into and your car thrown off the bridge by the momentum, only to be saved by Spider-Man. It was terrifying, he took you right down to the hospital without a word before he left you on a gurney; your husband appeared only moments later as the medical team took you inside, his breathing panicked as he took your hand, he was terrified. That look was one you could never get out of your head, even as you stared at his rising chest. “It will only be for a couple of months. It’s important for Gabi.”

“It’s important for Gabi.” You echoed, your nail caught on the small silver chain around his neck, the small locket glimmered in the low light.

Miguel is a generous man, and a man who truly adored his daughter.

Your daughter pranced over to your table, her smile much larger than you had even seen her make. You held out your hands, she instantly took them. “Mi niña, is it okay? Are you having fun?”

“It’s perfect, Mama.” Her arms were around your neck in an instant, a kiss from her on your head made your smile rival hers. She moved away, her pretty curls bouncing as her friends welcomed her back with huge smiles and infectious laughter.

You looked over to Miguel’s empty seat, heart sinking into your stomach. Being Spider-Man has made him lose so much important time with his family, but you understood why he put on the suit. You understood why when he told you that rainy night, you finally understood that you weren’t just a lucky survivor of small villain incident, he was always watching over you - even when he couldn’t be here for Gabi’s quinceañera.

You took a drink of your wine, hoping to put a damper on your growing sadness. You watched her Uncle Gabriel help take the beautiful white chair out to the middle of the dance floor, soft rose colored balloons tied to it and beautiful pink flowers wrapped around the back. Gabi was so excited, her gaze went back to you as she mouthed, “Love you.”

You blew her a kiss as the dance floor cleared, allowing her to sit down in the chair with her beautiful dress - her beautiful face bright with a smile. Your grip on your wine glass loosened as her Uncle Gabriel started the Changing of the Shoes ceremony - your own eyes felt pricks of pain as you fought back tears. You were only twenty feet away, your phone now in your hand was you took the video of the ceremony. She was laughing, happy - her flats being removed and replaced with the rose gold heels she had begged Miguel to buy months prior, but he had refused. And here they were, now placed on your daughter’s feet as her transition into becoming a young woman.

Tears of joy feel from your eyes as she stood, her smile still so large and the chair taken away. The song changed, your smile faltered.

“Gabi,” Miguel called. Your hand held his, his thumb gently raked over your index finger. He had spent many long nights, saving what money he could and taking odd jobs, all in between his duty as Spider-Man. His heart was warm, he had asked many favors with promises of repayment to set up his wonderful daughter’s quinceañera - more money than he wanted to pay, if at all, but he loved his child eternally. This was her one big wish for years, he had always said no since money was an issue. Even as a highly paid geneticist, his money was being drained by hospital bills, his mortgage, and his ailment of constantly needing venom to stay alive. But, giving her this meant she was growing up, and he was finally ready to help her out of her flats and into those high heels he knew were her favorite, then waltz around a big dance floor with his little girl who would be happier than ever.

She bounded down the staircase, hair a mess from practice as she tore off her headband, she smiled, “¿Qué pasa?” She was quick to sit on the floor in front of the couch, where you and Miguel were comfortably sitting. Your smile has always been gorgeous to Miguel, but in that moment, your smile infected him like a virus. You were so excited to see Gabi grow up, so excited to give her what she wanted.

Gabi was sobbing by the time Miguel had told her about the party, she hugged him so tight before kissing his cheek, then diving into you. You wrapped your arms around her with that beautiful smile on your face, moving your daughter back and forth with excitement.

That moment was a direct contrast to what he had confessed to you in private later that night, after he had finally found the courage to tell you his deepest secret. The look of horror on your face made Miguel’s stomach drop, the tears made him nauseous.

“You’re Spider-Man?”

He nodded for the second time, hand still holding yours. You didn’t remove it, your free hand came to cover your mouth.

“I wanted you to know. The ‘odd jobs’ I’ve been doing have been me being Spider-Man, people give me money to keep it up.” He whispered, terror in his heart as you just… stared.

“What will happen if I lose you?”

Miguel could only smile, his free hand came up to your cheek, resting upon it as he whispered, “Nunca me perderás, querida.”

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi stood in the middle of the dance floor, ready for her last dance of the night before her 15 Candle Ceremony. It was her father’s idea to have the dance near the end of the ceremony, he was never one to want too much attention. The girl stood in the middle of the floor, eyes watching her father’s smile come closer and closer to her.

The crystal-like tears hit her beautiful dress, her manicured hands grasped onto the dark mahogany of the frame that displayed the photo of her smiling deceased father, Miguel O’Hara.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[sailor-aviator]

By Its Cover: Prologue

By Its Cover: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies, Regency period, Period related drama, Talks of judgement, Period typical sexism, Talks of marriage, Death of a parent, Talks of making a debut, Reader's feelings are hurt, light angst, some fluff. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Winter gave way to spring as quickly as one rumor gave way to another. Public opinion changed as quickly as the seasons, as far as you were concerned. Your whole life was spent in the thralls of high society, your entire life scrutinized by the judgmental lords and ladies of the Island before you could even walk or talk.

You had earned your reputation as a rather odd girl fairly young not quite seven years. Where the other girls were interested in dolls and hair ribbons, you found yourself enraptured by the world around you. On more than one occasion, you received a tongue lashing from your nanny as you tracked mud through the house after one of your many excursions into the garden, your mother heaving a tired sigh as you argued the merits of fresh air and stimulating your endless supply of curiosity.

“My darling,” she’d say pointedly, giving you one of her signature looks that reeked of motherly disapproval and exasperation, “while I find the fresh air and time in the garden as stimulating as the next person, it is unbecoming of a lady, dearest.”

You had recounted the tale to your father later that evening, the older man sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the top of the wooden surface as he thumbed through a page of one of his many novels.

“I just don’t understand, Papa,” you muttered, your hair hanging from where you sat upside down on the chaise. “Why can Will go about doing as he pleases while I am to be tied down by all of these ridiculous rules?”

Your father had merely chuckled, marking his page before setting his book down to look at you.

“My darling Bug,” he smiled, taking his feet down and opening his arms wide to you. “Come here.”

You obeyed, righting yourself on the couch before standing to walk over to him. Bug had been bestowed upon you as your moniker well before you could remember. Your father had said that you earned the nickname once you were old enough to crawl all over the place, getting into things that you most decidedly shouldn’t. Your siblings had said it was because you were a pest.

Your father grasped your upper arms gently, the smile on his face as affectionate as always.

“William doesn’t get to do as he pleases,” he explained, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you pouted at him. “He will one day be lord earl of this estate, and as such he will take on many duties that will prevent him from doing a great deal of things. Indeed, he will take on many things that will see him as constrained as you.”

“I don’t believe you,” you grumbled, scowling up at him. Your father tilted his head back with a booming laugh, patting your head before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Nevermind all of that now, my little Lady Bug,” he hummed. “I’ve found a new story for you, would you like to read it?”

Your father was a fixture in your life, encouraging your love of learning perhaps more than he should have given the expectations set forth by society for you. Your mother saw no problem with your need for intellectual pursuits, but often grew exasperated at your clear lack of regard for decorum and stereotypical ladylike hobbies. Your elder sisters were the pinnacle of what proper ladies should look like in society, and you often found yourself being compared to them, much to your chagrin.

North Island, or the Island for short, was the nickname given to the group of nobles and upperclass that made up the elite, wealthy families that dictated the standards of polite society - the society you had the misfortune of being born into along with your elder siblings.

Your brother, William, was the pride of your family. He was a handsome, strong man that commanded the room with his very presence. He was jovial, charismatic, and intelligent by all accounts, and very popular amongst the other ladies of the Island.

Lydia was the second eldest after William, and was the the spitting image of your mother, with beautiful features that left all the men on the Island giving her longing looks. It was the Earl Reuben Fitch that won her hand in the end only seven seasons ago, and now they visited once in a while with their three children in tow.

Theodosia, or Theo for short, was the second eldest daughter, having entered into society only one year after Lydia, she was the prize to be won with her charming and elegant demeanor. Not quite as beautiful as Lydia, she made up for it with her wit, having won the affection of a viscount that same year.

Georgiana, or Georgie as your family was prone to call her, was only a year older than you and had made her debut the year prior. She had not settled for any of the men of the Island the year prior, setting her sights high and determining that the best had yet to come.

You rounded out the lot as the youngest, the strange, little sister that no one knew what to do with more often than not. The ladies of the Island often remarked that your head was too full of ideals, unsuitable for a lady of your noble family, and they lamented how your mother and father must have grown lax in their child rearing when it came to you. Or perhaps you were a hopeless cause. The reason varied day to day it seemed.

You were quite content with how your life was playing out. You had your books, the garden, and your dearest friend, Natasha Trace. Natasha, or Nat, was about a year older than yourself, having made her debut the same year as Georgiana.

“I’ll be happy once you make your debut,” she had said to you one night. “I won’t feel so alone at all the balls then.”

You had frowned at her words, the very thought of entering society growing less and less appealing by the day.

“Why must I debut?” You had asked your mother not too long after. “I’m the fourth daughter of an earl. Surely it is not that important that I marry.”

“Dearest,” your mother had sighed, setting her needlework down to look at you, “marriage is not all work. As the fourth daughter, you have more freedom to marry whom you would like. Your father would have wanted you to marry.”

“Father would have wanted me to do what made me happy,” you had muttered, turning to leave the room before she could respond.

Your father had passed years prior when you were only eight, and his memory still haunted the halls of the manner. William had taken up his title as earl, seeing to the estate with the help of your mother until he was capable of doing things on his own. Ten years your senior, he had done his best to fill in the holes your father’s absence had left behind, though he still needed reminding that he was, in fact, not your father.

“You’ll be making your debut this year,” he reminded you, scribbling away in the family ledger, casting you a spare glance as you scowled down at him.

“Please don’t make that face,” he sighed, setting his quill down to give you his undivided attention. “And please don’t make this more difficult than need be. Every young lady makes her debut at some point or another.”

“Why must I debut?” You frowned, your lips quickly forming into a smirk as a thought struck you. “Can I not live out my days on my own with you to support me?”

“You may not,” Williams replied flatly. “Bug, I know it can be nerve wrecking-”

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you interjected.

“But, it’s a part of growing up. You’ll find a husband who will make you reasonably happy and live out your days with him,” he finished. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you clasped your hands together.

“William,” you began, “who would want me? The whole Island has deemed me strange, the black sheep of our family. You would really put me through this embarrassment for the sake of tradition?”

“I think you’ll find yourself surprised at who may want you,” William countered. “Many men on the Island are in need of a wife, and some may be willing to settle for someone of your nature given the right circumstances.”

A beat passed between you two, your heart stalling in your chest at his words.

“Settle?” You laughed quietly, but there was no humor to be found in your tone. “I am something to be settled for then?”

You hated how small you sounded in that moment. Of course, you didn’t care for what others thought of you. No, you were above all of that. Still, the thought that your brother saw you as some secondhand prize, something no one would seek out, hurt, and you willed the stinging tears behind your eyes to go away as you schooled your features.

William cursed under his breath, moving to stand, his face apologetic as he rounded the desk.

“Bug, that’s not what I meant-”

“No,” you snapped, sniffly slightly as you fought to compose yourself. “You’ve said quite enough already, brother. You’ve made perfectly clear where I stand as it is.”

He moved to say something, but you waved him off, already turning to leave the study.

“You’re busy,” you said flatly, “I’ll leave you to your business.”

William called out your name, but you ignored him, walking briskly down the hall and to the solace of your family’s library.

If you were something to be settled for, then you would at least make the most of what little freedom you had left.

A/N: Ahhhh!! The long awaited, much requested Regency!AU is finally here! Here's our first taste of Bug and Jake, so what do we think? As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please go follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[lxvvie]

On today's episode of Simps-R-Us: A Guy and his... pet(s), or You, Your Faves, and your fur/feathered/fin-babies:

Capt. John Price - Standing ten toes down on this: Price would have two small, cute dogs, one named Sir Peabody and the other named Lady Marie. You two spoil them something fierce and they have a pile of little doggy hats that match their beloved papa's... much to his chagrin.

Gaz - Gaz said he'd surprise you and surprise you he did. He came home with a cockatoo. A damn cockatoo. Jokes on him, though, because your bird baby absolutely loves to prank the shit out of Gaz, too, by mimicking your voice when you're away and making him jump. Jokes on both of you now, because Soap has taught him how to curse and that's all he does now, Scottish accent and all. You have a picture saved of the bird (named Buttercup) on top of Gaz's head.

Alex Keller - Has the most gremlin Donskoy (named Brunswick) to ever gremlin, complete with the wide stormy eyes, which is funny because Keller can sometimes make a face that's very much gremlin-esque and the two greatly resemble each other. Can usually be found making biscuits on Alex's head.

Soap - Has a Labrador named Whiskey that he absolutely adores. Whiskey has also put you two in the most adorable of love triangles where you don't know whose affection you're playfully fighting for on any given day. Also has a tendency to take Soap's socks and he has to chase him throughout the house. Well, he and Whiskey are chasing each other throughout the house just about constantly.

Ghost - You guys talked about it but he surprised you one day by bringing home a Belgian Mal puppers who didn't make the unit. His name? Pup. Pup Riley. And Pup Riley is a ball of energy. Bloody hell. He always assumes he's going for a walk whenever you two make ready to leave. He also won't let Simon leave without him and so Simon usually has to create a diversion just to walk out the front door. It's also not uncommon for Pup to jump on his Papa whenever he gets home, too. Oh, did we also talk about the fact that Simon has to fight with Pup for his side of the bed whenever he's home or that Pup wakes him up early in the damn morning to take him out for his first walk of the day?

Roach - Found a stray kitten and brought her home. Her name's Oatmeal. Oatmeal is now the chonkiest, cutest loaf (you send Roach various pictures of her Loafiness). You two also bought her a set of those pet buttons just for shits and giggles and Oatmeal's really caught on to them. She uses "Dad", "Mad", and "Food" a lot even though she stays fed lmao.

Keegan - To everyone's surprise (and his own), has a husky named Balto who ignores the concept of personal space, loves to put his paw right in the middle of Keegan's face, and has pissed on Keegan's boots more than once because Balto felt slighted (you had to go to the groomer's, buddy, you rolled in mud). You and Keegan have also lost count of the number of times you've had to carry Balto into the house because he refuses to come inside, especially when it’s cold.

Alejandro - You two adopted a senior dog named Mojo who is the most peaceful little angel. Can usually be found lying near yours or Alejo's feet as you're working or something of that nature.

Rudy - You two have this huge ass tank full of fish that run the gamut of the rainbow and you remember all their names. The brooding one is named Alejandro and his namesake was not amused lmao.

König - You two have a small but floofy cat. She's black with a grey undercoat that he calls his "little Prinzessin" and she always looks like she's in a constant state of surprise. Whenever she blinks or closes her eyes, she becomes a floofy void. Her Highness prefers to be carried like a baby, thank you very much.

Phillip Graves - You two are the proud parents of a Bulldog named Bubba who thinks he has his humans trained (spoiler alert: he kinda does). Bubba Graves makes your day with the way he silently judges his parents, throws a tantrum when he doesn't get more food or pets, and usually has Philip sigh facetiously and go, "Now, son, why can't you behave for your old man, huh?"

[pablitogavii]

Stubborn like Papa

"Mamá! Mamá!" Matias yelled while running into the house from the back yard covered in mud with a ball in his hand.

"Díos mio Mat! What happened!?" you put down your phone looking at your little boy squatting down to be his height.

"I learned that head trick papá showed me! I want to show him!" his eyes were sparkling and your heart was melting when you looked at those eyes he shared with his dad.

"Papá is not home yet cariño..and you should shower and go to bed soon" you say seeing his little face fall and you knew why. Since Pablo was in the middle of his season, he was getting quite busy with trainings and games that he couldn't spend as much time at home.

"He's never here! It's so annoying!!" Matias was throwing a tantrum like he always does when something doesn't go his way. Another thing he shared with his dad.

"You know he works very hard for us Mat..but that doesn't mean he doesn't miss us too" you reached out for a little boy who was doing his best to suprress tears.

"I don't miss him!" he said stubbornly stomping away into the bathroom to get changed and you sighed knowing that he was just way too stubborn to admit how he feels..this kid is literally mini Pablo!

A few hours later...

"I'm home mi amor..why are you sitting here?" Pablo sat down on the couch where you fell asleep waiting for him with Matias in your hands and Tom&Jerry playing on the screen.

You woke up first rubbing your eyes and smiling at Pablo who leaned down to kiss your forehead before looking at the little body who was hugging you tightly and sleeping peacefully.

"He wouldn't fall asleep until you came..he's stubborn just like you Pablito!" you say and he smirks nodding his head while touching Matias' gently trying not to wake him up.

That was useless cause the boy was a light sleeper and eh immediately opened his eyes looking up at Pablo sleepily.

"Papá! Um..I've learned the head trick..you taught me..and um..I can show you now!" he was still groggy from sleep holding onto you for balance and you both knew it was no time for fútbol right now.

"I'm so proud of you chaval! But how about we play with the balón tomorrow instead huh? I think both you and me could use some sleep huh??" Pablo took him in his arms and Matias hugged him resting his little head on Pablo's broad shoulder.

"Are you not working tomorrow papá?" little boy asked and you smiled finding their little interaction adorable. Pablo smiled as well before kissing the top of his head.

"No, I don't..tomorrow is a day off" he said and Matias hugged him tighter signaling just how much he misses his dad despite his little antics from earlier.

"I thought you didn't miss him??" you tease the little boy who just hid his face in his dad's neck shyly while the two of you chuckled.

All of you climbed upstairs and while Pablo put Matias to bed, you got comfortable underneath the covers. Pablo joined you shortly afterwards pulling you closer and kissing your lips.

Not even two minutes passed, when you both heart small feet paddling on the tile floor. You looked at each other with big smiles on your faces when you saw the shadow of a small boy entering your shared bedroom.

"Mamá? Papá?" Matias' little voice called and you sat up to check what's going on.

"What's wrong cariño??" you say opening your arms and he climbed up and into them quickly making you chuckle and put him between the two of you.

"Um..can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked with blushing cheeks looking at Pablo who was pretending to think about it but you knew he was just as excited.

"And why is that huh?" you ask and Matias moved close to Pablo touching his face while looking at him with big hopeful eyes.

"I missed..papá" he whispered and you smiled when you saw Pablo's cheeks blush as well while he played with his hair.

"And did you miss me, mamá??" Pablo smiled and you nodded as he pulled you closer too so that both of you were cuddled up to his side.

Once he made sure both of you were peacefully asleep in his arms, he completely relaxed getting some well deserved rest <3

[soulsoffairlight]

Drew this on the board in my Spanish class without providing any context

Operate, Annihilate is kinda ridiculous from an outsiders perspective and it's so funny

[mochinomnoms]

What do you think would happen if Floyd were to meet Riddle's mother?! Cuz I just read your Mama/Papa leech Headcanons about meeting their sons crush. But what if it’s reversed? Riddle's mother Meeting Floyd? (I would also say Yuu's parents meeting Jade, but unfortunately, that won't be happening)

“Wow, I thought Lil Goldfishie was a stick in the mud, his mama has a whole branch up her—” *gets kicked in the groin*

I have very mixed feelings about Riddle's mother, in that with the context we have right now she's a bitch and if I ever see her it's on motherfucking sight. But she must love her son still, right? Is she harsh because he wants to set Riddle up for success, but only knows the way she was raised? Is she scared of her kid getting hurt or failing, and so she tries to shield him from all possible harm? Is she so hyperaware of all the dangers in society that she feels the need to keep him in a little bubble, knowing in the back of her mind that making mistakes and getting hurt is part of growing up? A good mother would never want to see their child ever get hurt if it were up to them. I mean, she must care for him in some way, but how? In the manga or novel (not sure which) they mention that she fought back against the school to keep him in, but was that because she wanted him to have the prestige of NRC in his background or because she wants what's best for him? She homeschooled him herself to the point that he's an immensely powerful mage already as a teen, so she could've hypothetically kept doing the same thing, right? Is she a mother that truly cares for her son but suffered the same childhood, but she “turned out fine” so it must be fine? Or is she just a bitch, lol. Either way, she is emotionally and affectionately neglectful and doesn't realize it at best, and emotionally and psychologically abusive at worst.

I have a lot to say on the topic of Mrs. Rosehearts, about her parenting, the cultural differences of child-rearing that EN players and JP players might have. This post talks about it in depth, but I can say more on the topic later.

In regards to Floyd meeting Mrs. Rosehearts, probably against Riddle's wishes or while he's distracted, the poor guy is set up for disappointment. While it's implied that Mama Leech is overprotective and that she calls very often, if not daily, to check in on her sons, they still had enough freedom growing up to get into shenanigans and hijinks. I mean, they beat up a sturgeon and took some of its scales to fashion into earrings like a trophy. And they both speak very fondly of her, so Floyd is going into meeting Mrs. Rosehearts with the expectation that she might be a bit stuffy. But, she raised Riddle, his crush and favorite human! He's strict and mean at times, but he cares a lot for his dorm and is super diligent, she must be like that too!

But she's so…critical. She looks at him unamused, very standoffish, but is polite. He guesses. He can see where Riddle got his strictness from.

“Hello. Who might you be?” She probably didn't expect to have some random student, not even from her son's dorm, come up to her. He was...tall. Towered over her, and based on the color of his hair and sharp teeth, most likely wasn't human.

“Huh, you're not as red as my Lil Goldfishie is.”

She blinked and frowned, resisting the urge to chastise the strange fellow for his informal tone and rube behavior. Not her son, not her problem.

“Pardon? Do you often speak to your elders like this?” she asked, eyeing him as she turned away to watch her son give orders to his dorm as they managed an informational booth.

“Yeah, why not? They're just people. Not like I'm being rude or anything” She would strongly disagree. “You're kinda prickly, like a lionfish.”

“W-what?” She changed her mind, someone needs to put him in her place. “Now listen here, young man, it's quite rude to call people anything other than their na—”

“They're real mean, ya know. Venomous, a nuisance, can't even mess with it cause it has a bunch of spines—oh! Imma call you Mama Lionfish.” The young man snapped his left fingers like he made a revelation.

Mrs. Rosehearts had learned to control her temper, but she still had her moments, Her face been bright red, her lips thinned, and she opened her mouth to start berating the young man.

“Floyd Leech! What did I tell you about calling people names?” A tall, slender women came up to them, pale skin and hair hue similar to the man in front of her. She wore a cream-colored dress and matching blazer, adorned with gold and pearls, and a matching wide brimmed hat. She was followed by Riddle, who looked a mix of anger and concern.

“Never do it in front of people, yeah, yeah.” The man named Floyd pouted, but brightened at the sight of Riddle. “Oh hey Lil Goldfishie! What's uuuup?”

Floyd jogged over to Riddle, halting him midstep as Mrs. Rosehearts noticed Riddle almost bristle, trying to sidestep and get around Floyd. He was failing.

“I apologize, you know how boys can be!” The woman in front of her also towered over her, though not nearly as much as her son did. “My Floyd doesn't mean anything by it, he just a silly boy.”

The blue haired woman laughed, then abruptly stopped, narrowing her golden gaze as she thinly smiled.

“You're the man's mother, I assume.” Mrs. Rosehearts replied, smoothing out her skirt and clutching her hands together. “He's very...spirited. He's from the Leech family? Is it safe to assume that your the Leech family matriarch?”

The other woman's sharp toothed smile grew as she nodded. “Yes. It's not often that I come to the surface. But it's wonderful to know that I'm as—oh—well-known, on the surface, as under the sea.”

Mrs. Rosehearts wouldn't use the word 'well-known' as much as she would infamous.

“Yes, well. I would just remind your son to not so blatantly call people names to their faces.” she said, clenching and unclenching her fist in an attempt to sooth herself. “I'm not sure what your customs are under the sea, but up here he would be considered a riffraff.”

For all her talk about politeness, Mrs. Rosehearts forgot herself at time and let things slip out of her mouth faster than she processed. She knew she pressed a button when Mrs. Leech's smile disappeared.

It was only for a moment, but with the blank face and the way her gold eyes bore into her, it felt like her body and soul were being grasped by something dark and violent.

Then that feeling was gone as Mrs. Leech smiled again and closed her eyes, tilting her head.

“He'll be fine, I'm sure he'll find his people. After all, it seems he's already found someone in your son.”

Both women moved their gazes to the pair, now bickering. Well, Riddle was, the one called Floyd, was just swaying on his heels as he grinned and make a comment here and there. Each one after the other seemed to fluster her son further, his cheeks growing in color as they spoke. Most people who knew her son would assume that the red was attributed to his rage, and it mostly was. But (fortunately or unfortunately, she couldn't decide) her son was much like her. It wasn't rage that made his eyes dart away each time their eyes met for too long. It wasn't rage that made him scuff his foot every so often. And it most certainly wasn't rage in his eyes.

Mrs. Rosehearts cleared her throat, turning away from Mrs. Leech and walking to her son.

“I don't know what you're implying, but I must be going now. My son and I still need to tour his dorm.”

Mrs. Leech watched the other woman walk away, sighing.

“Oh, what a disdainful woman. And her son is so lovely too…she really is like a lionfish.”

“Yeah, it's a good nickname for her, right Mama?” Floyd came bounding over, stretching his arms. “Is' too bad she's a stuck-up, gonna real annoying if she's my mother-in-law.”

“Hm, I'll just have to overcompensate then and be the best Mama for you and the little Riddle!” Mama Leech clapped her hands excitedly, sighing in bliss at the thought.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to see the family grow big...oh! By the way, Floyd.” Mama Leech walked away, Floyd following after diligently. “I might have mentioned a little 'something' to him about your cute rambles about him. He was so cute, all red and flushed when I said you're positively infatuated, calling him cute and—”

“Aw what! Mama!”

[ramblingoak]

Naps With Copia

Chapter 9: A Nap to De-Stress

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

For @visiosatanae 💙 who wanted a post stress nap

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: Primo, Secondo and Terzo being annoying, job related stress and a loving nap with Papa, some cursing but sfw, 1,300 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

If the phone rang one more time you were going to smash it to pieces.

All day you had been dealing with this.  Not even just the phone, but it seemed like no one could handle anything on their own today.  You had been visited by what felt like every Sibling in the abbey, most asking questions that they should have been able to handle on their own.  Even a few Ghouls had come by, pestering you about band practice schedules and whether or not the delivery truck had been by.

You probably could have survived the nonsense from the Siblings and the Ghouls, you were used to having them wander into your office.  It was when the Papas decided to join in that you reached your limit.  One of your jobs was keeping the front entrance area clean and ready for any visitor that came in and so each morning you took the time to sweep and mop the entrance.  That way the intricate tiles on the floor would be shiny and impressive, they’d be practically glowing as the sun beamed in through the stained glass windows.

Or they would have if Primo hadn't tracked mud all over them.

“What the fuck, Papa?!”  Primo had turned and raised a delicate eyebrow your way, no doubt ready to snap back at you until his eyes fell to the mess he had left.  You waved away the apologies you knew he’d start muttering and trudged back over to the mop and bucket.  “At least take your stupid crocs off before you come inside!  Look at this!”

Behind you there were some hurried whispers in Italian and when you turned around you saw the back of Primo’s robes as he quickly ducked around the corner.  In his place was Secondo, looking tall and imposing as usual.

Like that shit ever worked on you.

“The answer is no.”

“I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“Yes but you always ask me the same three questions,”  You turned and held up your fingers, ticking them down as you listed what he always bugged you about,  “Have my packages arrived?  No, I haven’t gotten anything from Pure Romance or Buttercup’s Bunny Boutique.”

“Those are completely diff–”

“I don’t care what they sell.  Moving on, I also haven’t gotten a call from the car dealership so I’m imagining whatever new Italian monstrosity you’ve ordered this time isn’t ready yet.”  You raised your eyebrow when he started to say something but thankfully he took the hint and closed it.  “And finally, your fri–”

A frantic knocking at the front door interrupted what you were going to say.  You pointed a threatening finger Secondo’s way before hurrying to the doors and swinging them open.  It took all your self control not to let your face fall at the sight before you.  At least twenty children were staring up at you with wide eyes, most of them clutching onto the hands of the adults with them.  A tour, a tour that was not on your calendar this morning.

“Um.”  Your usual professional demeanor seemed to have left the building and you couldn’t stop yourself from just staring and blinking at all the faces in front of you.  “Are you he–”

“Ciao, ciao!”  The hurried voice of Terzo came up behind you quickly, his shoes squeaking loudly on the still wet tiles.  “Thank you darling, I will take it from here.”

“You’re giving a tour?”

“SÌ, I happen to give the best tours.”

“Yeah, but only when you want something Terzo!”  

A throat clearing from the steps had you and Papa breaking your death glare on each other.  One of the adults with them, a younger woman who seemed to only have eyes for Terzo, stepped forward with her hand out.

“Oh thank you Papa!  We’re so lucky you took the time out of your busy schedule to show m– uh, I mean us around!”

“No, no dolcezza, I’m the lucky one.”  He gently took her hand, dropped a lingering kiss on the back before tucking it into the crook of his arm.  “Shall we?”

You stood there, trying to keep your smile on your face as the group started following Terzo like a bunch of lost ducklings.  He led them around the corner, daring to turn and give you a mischievous wink before disappearing down the hallway.  You didn’t move for a moment, your feet frozen in place and your fists clenched.  Secondo was gone, no doubt using the distraction as his chance to run away.  This was the last straw for today.  You didn’t care if Satan himself was going to knock on that door next you were done.  

The door to your small office banged against the wall as you flung it open.  You’d just grab your laptop and phone then you could hide out somewhere else.  Imperator owed you some sick time anyway.  If you stayed here any longer you’d be too tempted to burn the whole abbey down.  There was only one place in the abbey you’d be able to relax after a day like this and your feet quickly took you there.  The door flung open right when you were grabbing the handle and you nearly had an armful of an irritated Secondo. Your mouth started moving before you could stop yourself.

“Whining to mom, Papa?”

“I’m not whining to anyone, I’m just telling mio fratellino that maybe he should take you on a vacation before you kill someone.”

“Yeah?  Well you’d be the first one Mr. Buttercup Romance!”

“Ok, ok!”  Copia rushed over to the door, pushing himself between you and his brother.  “Let’s uh, let’s take a breath here and maybe, apologize.  Can we do that?  Hmm?”

With a huff from you and a growl from Secondo you both walked away from each other.  Secondo quickly leaving down the hall and you brushing by Copia to throw yourself on the plush couch he had in his office.  He mumbled something under his breath as he closed and locked the door behind him before wandering over to look down at you. 

“I want to go to Venice first.”

“Venice?”

“Then Verona, Milan and Florence.”  He had that adorable confused look on his face and you had to hide your grin in one of the throw pillows for a moment.  “You know, for our vacation.”

“Oh!  SÌ, sÌ of course.  Well, he’s right amore, you do deserve a vacation.”  Copia dropped to his knees next to the couch, cradling your face in his hands for a moment before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your nose.  “We should do something else first.”

“And what’s that?”  He grinned as he stood up, groaning briefly when his knees popped.  With quick movements he moved to your feet and gently took your shoes off before sitting on the edge and working on his own.  “Copia?  What are you doing?”

“We are taking a nap.”  Copia noticed the confused look on your face and smiled softly, dropping his shoes on the ground and then sliding in next to you.  “A nap can do wonders, yeah?”

“I suppose.”  He chuckled against you, sweeping a hand over your head and rubbing your scalp.  With a sigh you melted against him, all the stress from the day seeping out of you by his presence alone.  “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

“Probably not, but you can tell me about it later, eh?  We should rest for a bit first.”

“Okie dokie, Papa.”  Copia laughed again and you felt his lips brush against your forehead.  You slipped your arms around his waist, getting as close as you possibly could.  Close enough his warmth alone began to lull you to sleep, the comforting beat of his heart under your ear helping as well.  “We’ll talk about Italy later.”

“Of course, amore.  Whatever it takes to keep the abbey standing.”

You grinned against his shirt, inhaling breaths of his cologne and letting everything that was Copia help relax you to sleep. 

@da-rulah your nap is next 😉

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi! I dunno if this has been requested already but could we please get a platonic Yandere Azure Lion and MK? I can’t really think of a plot except for maybe Azure taking MK away so he can be “safe”.

Indigo Ephialtes

“Have you never had a nightmare before, cub?”

There’s concern and curiosity in that voice, both in multitudes. Each word drips with worry, paired with a powerful stroking up and down MK’s back.

The teen can’t bring himself to respond, of course. He’s too much too busy wiping away tears and trying to forget about the grim visions that have endlessly plagued his mind for the last month. Every night brings a new twisted scene, one that leaves MK shaking and sweating, fighting back tears while staring at the ceiling and praying for it to collapse across his quivering form.

He never use to have nightmares.

Not unless sickness had settled beneath the skin and plagued him with virulence. It was only when MK had to sit and stew that his brain was allowed to run wild with nauseating thoughts and putrid fears, chilling his skin worse than any cold ever could.

He’d wake up thrashing- throwing punches and picks to shadow-box enemies that existed only in the hazy corners of his worn eyes. And in every ‘fight’, he was to lose. MK would collapse to the floor in short order, sobbing into hands that he had beaten bloody against the headboard of his bed.

Those were the nightmares he grimly dreamt.

Back when Mei was a call away and would spend the whole night talking him back to calmness. When Pigsy would trudge upstairs with a fresh bowl of noodles and a handful of bandages. When Mr. Tang would soothe him back to sleep with an old story.

But his family isn’t here right now, are they?

“-ub. Cub. Cub, are you- MK!”

The teen snaps from his daydreams, ripped from the pleasant and warm thoughts of his family and the tenderness they provided.

“MK, my little cub, I’ve been talking to you for a while now. Were you… simply not listening?”

Disapproval in some small measure, negative ideations blooming in Azure’s ever-delusional mind.

The mere idea that his ‘cub’ might to some small degree reject even a mote of his fatherly love has started a snowball effect before. One little negative thing builds to a crafted tower, then the leonine beast topples it with his own inability to see truth and reason.

And then MK spends the rest of the day ‘grounded’, locked up tight in his room and cut from the few possessions that his unwanted caretaker saw fit to garnish the room with.

“No,” he chokes out, the lie thick and clumsy on his tongue. Azure raises an eyebrow, considering but not quite convinced. So then the boy sees fit to grinds out the one word he’s come to hate more than any other: “Papa.”

That is something that the lion takes at face value, every last time he hears it. Pulling it from MK’s mouth is harder than pulling teeth, so he cherished every moment that those two syllables left the boy’s lips.

“Of course not,” he coos, stroking the teen’s hair. It’s unsettling, how sharply the cyan creature changes his mood. But he’s in a better one now, all for a single word he longs to hear again and again and again. “You’re a good cub, hmm? You would never ignore me simply for the sake of it, would you?”

“No,” the teen lies again.

“You’re a much better cub than that,” the lion agrees, leaning down to nuzzle MK’s cheek, “and you’re too polite and sweet to lie to your papa.”

Already, the miasma of pervading delusion settles deep, reinforcing Azure’s beliefs.

MK is his perfect little cub. He’s the only one who can keep the boy safe.

“Now, cub… let’s talk about your nightmare, hmm?

His friends, face-down in puddles of mud. His family, ripped limb from limb and left to rot. Fertile dirt stained to speckled cinnabar.

“…just saw s-something…”

Messed up is what he wants to say. But the lion responds far better to MK playing along with the ‘helpless child’ act. So he finishes with a delayed “scary” instead, leaving Azure to sympathetically coo and bring the boy into his powerful arms.

MK wants to hate this. So badly, he wishes that the hug was painfully tight, or that Azure’s blue fur was rough to the touch. Any reason to hate it, to hate the comfort and warmth sinking deep into his skin from the cuddle.

But he can’t. There’s not even one thing wrong with it. The lion is well-versed in skinship and closeness, and is especially gentle with those he cherishes.

MK wishes this felt worse. He wants Azure to be awful and monstrous and demonic- it’d be easier to hate him. He wants to hate the Celestial rebel with all the heart he can muster.

But it’s getting harder and harder with each week in captivity. The leonine revolutionary is gentle, is kind, is genuine.

And with nothing he can do to slip free, MK gives himself to tears once more, allowing the throes of agony from his blood-seeped dream to break him down entirely.

After all, he knows that Azure will provide unconditional comfort and protection.

Whether he wants it or not.

(Was super hyped to get this request, ngl!)

[calxia]

The Runaway PT3

Part 1, Part 2

If it weren’t for the groan he had made, it would have been very easy for the other ghouls to have overlooked Phantom’s prone form collapsed in the mud. He was coated from horn to tail with a thick layer of the foul-smelling stuff. With the way he was curled into himself, he could have easily been mistaken for a misshapen rock.

Rain and Cirrus rushed forward as soon as it clicked what (or rather who) they were looking at. They were cold enough just standing in the rain, but Phantom must be absolutely freezing caked in mud as well. They had zero idea just how long he had been collapsed. The scent trail by the road had already grown stale when they first started tracking him down. It could have been hours since he had left the abbey, and it had been raining most of the night. Of course, the younger ghoul was foolish enough that he would try to run away during the first storm of the year.

They grabbed what they thought was the quintessence ghoul’s arm and attempted to heave him back upright. It was hard to keep a firm grip on him- the mud made him as slippery as one of the eels Rain regularly pulled out of the lake. Phantom was a complete deadweight in their grasp. If it wasn’t for his quiet groans as they moved him, they would have presumed him dead. After a few minutes of tugging and manoeuvring, they managed to get him propped semi-upright between Swiss and Dew. They were both channelling their fire elements to increase their core temperatures and project their heat onto the filthy ghoul between them. He was so cold to the touch. Even the forever-cold Rain had noticed just how freezing he felt while lifting him.

They needed to get him up the hill and back to the abbey as soon as possible. They needed to get him out of his soaked clothes and into something dry before he became hypothermic. The only option was for someone to carry him up and hope that Mountain and Copia had arrived with the car. Even a ghoul of phantom’s diminutive size and stature would be hard to carry the unresponsive ghoul up the him, with the others following behind to hopefully stop them if Swiss were to fall.

They were short on time, so it would have to do.

They all had to work together to get Phantom’s prone form settled onto Swiss’s back as securely as possible. Phantom was boneless and no help as they tried to hike him further up on Swiss’s broad back. It wasn’t sturdy, but it would have to work for them. They started up the slope, the ever-progressing storm beating down upon them.

It was a slow-going ascent. Every few meters, the group would slide back at least a meter in return. It was tiring and it felt like they were not getting any closer to the road. The group was getting exhausted. They’d already been starting to get tired when they had reached where Phantom’s scent changed direction, but the trek down the hill had drained them.

They had to keep going though.

Phantom’s life depended on it.

It was slow going but eventually, they made it up to the roadside where they had left Cumulus waiting for Papa. She had moved to sit down in the grass while she waited, the harsh rain saturating her white curls. At the sound of the other ghouls stumbling through the overgrowth, Cumulus spun around to face them a look of concern flitting across her face. She shot up from the grass and rushed to help them up the final bit of incline.

“Oh gosh, did you guys find Phantom like this?” she nervously questioned as she flitted behind Swiss to help relieve him of the deadweight that was the younger ghoul.

“He was buried in the mud by an overflowing river. Has Papa and Mountain passed by yet?” Cirrus answered her as she moved to take the other side of Phantom’s weight.

A few hours had to have passed since they first set off from the abbey, and they were sure they hadn’t cleared that much land for it to take that long for Papa to catch up with them, but they would have to wait until they arrived. There was no way that they would be able to get Phantom back home with the torrential storm without someone getting hurt or the quintessence ghoul dying.

They would have to hunker down and try and keep him as warm and sheltered as possible. They settled down where they would still be visible from the road but had some shelter from the trees and formed a ghoul pile around the small ghoul with the warmest of the pack closest to him.

And then the waiting game started.

[copias-girl]

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter IV

Song recommendation for this fic!

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter V

A/N: I don’t need to use google translate for Italian but I can’t say the same about Latin sooo don’t mind the google translate Latin lol

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

The sun shone high in the pale blue sky, gently beaming down on you as you knelt in the grass outside the ministry. You were on laundry duty today, so you and a handful of other sisters were out doing the wash and hanging it up to dry on the line. With your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you scrubbed yet another garment up and down on the washboard; sparkling soapy water sloshing over the sides of the basin. You rung it out before standing to hang it on the line, securing it with a couple clothes pins so that it wouldn’t blow away. You grinned in amusement, recalling that particularly windy incident where Papa Nihil’s white chasuble ended up getting blown right into a puddle of mud because it wasn’t pinned to the line.

As you and the other sisters silently scrubbed the clothes, your angelic voice rang out in the open air, singing He Is.

“He is, he’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see,” Your voice was graceful and melodic as you mindlessly sang, grateful to Satan for this beautiful day.

“And he is, insurrection, he is spite, he’s the force that made me be.” You continued, smiling when the other sisters began joining you; a soft chorus of voices singing praises to your Dark Lord.

You stood once more, hanging another garment on the line as you continued to sing, “He is, nostro dis pater, nostr- Aaaah!” Your dulcet chorus was interrupted by someone tightly grabbing you around the waist, causing you to let out a surprised, high pitched scream.

“Are you singing that about me, Sorellina?” It was Terzo who purred into your ear, his voice dripping with a smirk.

You playfully struggled in his grasp, screaming again- this time in laughter- when he picked you up.

The other sisters looked on in jealousy, always wishing Terzo would pay them as much attention as he paid you. He was constantly fawning over you, always wanting to touch you in some way, always giving you some sort of special treatment.

“Papa!” You kicked into the air a few times before the two of you toppled to the ground, rolling around together in the plush grass as you both struggled against one another.

“Hm? Are you, Sorella? Are you singing for your Papa?” He teased, now on top of you and trying to pin you down.

Sister Emily huffed at the scene, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. She was especially envious, as she had a huge crush on Terzo.

You grasped for a fistful of little wild flowers, ripping them out of the ground and playfully smacking Terzo with them, shoving them in his face.

The sisters were always so taken aback by your attitude towards Terzo. You didn’t even act starstruck that Papa was interacting with you. Here he was, straddling your hips and holding you down, the skirt of your casual habit having ridden up up up to reveal your panties to everyone. But instead of keening into his touch, you were laughing and fighting for your life, even whacking him with a handful of flowers. But what the sisters didn’t understand is that’s exactly what Terzo absolutely loved about you. He was used to every sister of sin swooning over him, but you… You were feisty, a breath of fresh air.

You erupted in giggles when he sputtered, spitting out some of the flowers that had gotten stuck in his mouth.

“Flowers? For me, Sorella? How romantic!” He gasped exaggeratedly, draping a hand across his forehead dramatically, his other hand trying to pin your wrists down while you screamed and wriggled under him.

“Noooo!” You protested, shaking your head.

“No? Well.. how about some of this, then, eh?!” He cackled out an evil laugh as his gloved fingers found your sides, tickling you ruthlessly.

You shrieked, thrashing under him. “Papa have mercy! I-I’ll get in trouble for not doing my chores!” You cried out between giggles, desperately trying to shove him off you.

You sighed in relief as he let up, leaning down closer to you. “You know, Sorella… As Papa, I can always just relieve you of your duties.” Terzo hummed. “That way I can sit here and tickle you all day long!” He growled suddenly, making you squeal one last time before he huffed out a laugh himself, rolling off you to lay beside you in the long grass, gazing at you fondly.

The two of you were a mess; your veil had been pulled off at some point during the struggle, and there were pieces of grass and flower petals stuck in both his and your tousled hair.

You both stared at each other for a few moments while you caught your respective breaths, but Terzo suddenly turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Allora, I did not come here just to bother you.” He spoke. “Although, it is one of my greatest passions.” Terzo added with a smirk and a wink that had you swatting at him and laughing.

“I have come to remind you of your Latin lesson!” He beamed with a little flourish, or as much of a flourish as he could do while laying on the ground.

“Huh? Oh! Shoot, I’m gonna be late!” You stood up, shaking yourself off and trying to locate your veil. Offering Terzo your hand, you pulled him up to his feet.

“Come on, Em, it’s time for Latin!” You called, waving her over.

She caught up with you and Terzo, eagerly trying to walk next to him and maybe strike up a conversation.

But then you were turning to your Papa, smirking and challenging him. “Last one to the ministry drinks curdled goat milk!” You yelled before taking off running.

“Cazzo!” He swore, chasing after you. He was right behind you, but his foot caught on something, tripping and falling but managing to grab your ankle and causing you to tumble to the ground too. Terzo laughed maniacally, jumping to his feet and dragging you backwards by your ankles as you screamed and clawed at the earth, grabbing fistfuls of grass. You had to admit, for an old man he was pretty damn spry.

“Papa you’re crazy!” You laughed.

“If you don’t hurry up, we’re all going to be drinking curdled goat milk for keeping Papa Secondo waiting…” Emily grumbled.

“She’s right, you know.” You looked back over your shoulder at your Papa, who conceded, nodding in agreement and releasing your ankles.

But suddenly you were squealing in surprise again as Terzo lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way back to the ministry.

“Look at the sweet little lamb I have caught out in the field!” He declared triumphantly once he burst through the doors, making you giggle and swat at his back while kicking your feet.

Some siblings of sin laughed at their Papa’s antics, while others only stared enviously, a few grumbling to each other. Emily was one of the latter, huffing in annoyance and waiting for Terzo to be done. He didn’t have to make it so obvious that you were everyone’s favourite.

Setting you down, Terzo gave you a playful smack on the ass to push you in the direction of Secondo, who was striding down the corridor.

“Crazy old man.” You huffed with a grin. You turned and stuck your tongue out at Terzo, who returned the favour, before you greeted Secondo.

“Hi, Papa Secondo! I’ll be ready for Latin soon, I was just doing the laundry and-”

“Ciao, Sorella. Don’t worry, I am not doing Latin class today.” He explained.

“What?? You’re getting sick of me already?” You pouted.

Secondo’s stern expression softened as he gazed at you, the corners of his lips quirking up in what you could possibly call a smile.

“Of course not, ragazzina.” He pinched your cheek playfully. “I am only taking the day off. Then I will be back, si?”

You smiled up at him, nodding understandingly. “Who’s teaching the class today?” You enquired.

“Oh, Copia. The Cardinale. He is very good at Latin, si? You will be in good hands.”

Your eyes widened, a cute little smirk forming on your face at that information.

“Alright, that sounds good.” You bit your lip. “I’ll miss you dearly but I won’t miss your stupid pop quizzes.” You teased, batting your eyelashes at the man.

“Enjoy today with no pop quiz, but pay attention. I will be testing you on what the Cardinale has taught.” He spoke sternly, but winked at you playfully, causing you to giggle. Secondo picked a few flower petals out of your hair, giving your cheek one last endearing pinch before sending you on your way.

What had started as private Latin lessons between you and Secondo soon turned into the man teaching a small class of you and a few siblings at the behest of Sister Imperator. He was intimidating and scary when he asked you a question and waited for your answer while glaring at you with those haunting mismatched eyes. However, Secondo really was delightful; he taught you well. And you were the teacher’s pet, always pleasing him with being the first one to eagerly raise your hand and giving correct answers. However, even you weren’t exempt from getting chastised, albeit much gentler than the scoldings he gave to his other pupils. It was mostly for you snickering in class and passing notes.

You ran down the corridor and up the stairs, noting that you had some time to clean yourself up before class started. You freshened up, successfully getting all of the foliage out of your hair and changing into a different habit. This time, you opted for one that was almost like your casual habit except it had a shorter skirt which rose above the knee, and a frilly white rounded collar. The top of the dress was tight to show off the silhouette of your breasts and it pinched in deliciously on your waist before the little skirt gently flared out in an A-line. You wore it with a pair of black thigh-high stockings and your high heeled Mary Janes, looking studious, but still sinfully naughty; smirking as you applied some lipgloss and affixed your veil to your head, always preferring to wear it so that it still showed off your hair. Taking one last look in the mirror and grabbing your book bag, you hurried out the door.

•𖤐•

Your heels clicked on the marble floors as you jogged down the hall, actually making it to the classroom early, but upon opening the door, you found that it was empty. You set your bag down at your desk in the front row, and suddenly a horribly naughty idea was blooming in your head. Casting a glance around, you casually walked behind Secondo’s desk and pulled the drawer open, taking out the huge black book that he taught from, the one with the ornately embossed pentagram on it; worn and old from decades of use.

Deft fingers flipped to the place Secondo had bookmarked, which was the unholy sacraments and praying to Satan in Latin. That was all quite good and fine, but you had a different idea in mind.

You flipped to the table of contents, fingertips skimming over each topic before settling on the one you wanted. With a devious smirk on your lips, you plucked the black velvet and gold bookmark out and placed it a little further into the book. You put it back in the desk and hurried to sit down in your seat, hands folded neatly on your desk like a good little girl.

No more than two minutes later, Emily, Mable, Lilith, and Ava entered, followed by a couple more siblings that you didn’t really hang out with aside from class.

One of them was Rob, who everyone thought was particularly dreamy. He had the hots for you, of course he did, but he was sooo not your type. Far too young. Never stuttered. Not rat-like in the very slightest.

You had a much different definition of the word ‘dreamy’ than your friends; while they were all scribbling in their diaries about Rob at night, you found yourself writing Copia’s name in swirly cursive with hearts all around it.

You all greeted one another, chatting for a bit while you reached into your bag, grabbing your notebook and unwrapping a red heart-shaped lollipop.

Suddenly, you saw the doorknob twisting and jiggling around, hearing shuffling on the other end. Then a pause, before the door began rattling on its hinges.

You all looked on in confusion, concern growing as you heard quiet muffled Italian curses on the other side as the ornate wood rattled.

Then another beat of silence.

“Ah, shit..” Copia murmured, finally realizing that he had to push the door open, not pull it. He cracked the door open, peeking inside to make sure he was in the right place.

“Ta da..!” The Cardinal gave an awkward little flourish, finally entering into the room.

You heard Emily leaning closer to Rob and Mable, snickering out a “Loser.” and earning cruel chuckles from them.

“Hi, hello, ehh.. How do you do?” He greeted you all, gloved hands clasped in front of him while he looked around the class, his painted eyes settling on you, swallowing nervously.

You smiled sweetly at the man, licking and sucking on your lollipop, tongue swirling around it as you waited for him to begin the lesson.

Copia pulled open the drawer, taking the heavy book out.

“Ehm.. Class, today we are going to learn the Latin, si?” He looked at you all with a little nod.

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock, it’s literally Latin class.” Rob pointed out, all the girls giggling at his stupid joke. All of them except you, who shot a dirty look back at him.

“Ah, si, o-of course. Ehh… Well let us see where you left off with Papa Secondo, okie dokie?” He was quick to recover, trying not to let the rude comments or snickering get to him.

Copia opened the book, flipping to the page that you had secretly selected.

“Ah, here we are. Today’s topic will be-” The Cardinal’s already pale complexion paled even further, his cheeks immediately flushing red hot as he stared down at the book.

“Ehm.. t-today’s.. eh, today’s topic will be, ehhm…” The man shook his head, making sure that’s really where the bookmark was.

“Is something wrong, Cardinal?” You spoke up, feigning concern with that sweet voice of yours.

“No..!” He replied a little too quickly. “Eh, no, no..” He cleared his throat. “Today’s topic will be… Fornicationis Rituali Magicae ad Honorem Satanae.”

Fornication Ritual Magic for the Honour of Satan.

Your lips curled up into a little smirk, eyes fixed on Copia while you sucked on your lollipop.

He began doing his best to teach the lesson, his cute accented voice wavering and stammering every time his mismatched gaze swept over you.

You knew what you were doing with that lollipop too, ruthlessly distracting him from reading with a few wet slurping noises, no doubt forcing the poor man to think dirty thoughts as you laved your sinful little tongue over it while staring right at him. He probably felt like a sick pervert for those thoughts, clueless at the fact that you were deviously orchestrating it all.

The Cardinal was currently stumbling through a sentence about how important sex rituals were, when you raised your hand.

“Eh- Yes, Sorella?” Copia nodded to you.

“Have you ever done a sex ritual, Cardinal?” You enquired with a curious tilt of your head.

“Ehm. No…” He replied, embarrassment apparent on his face.

“Thank Satan..” Emily scoffed quietly, but still loud enough for everyone including Copia to hear. “I’d feel sorry for the girl who had to get fucked by rat man.”

Stifled giggles sounded from everyone in the class, some murmuring in agreement.

Copia visibly flinched at that comment, clearly already very insecure about being undesirable. With shoulders slumped, his eyes met the floor before turning around quickly and writing on the board, surely because he didn’t want to face the jeering class anymore.

“Would.. would anyone like to come up here and write the translation to this?” The Cardinal spoke up, and you raised your hand eagerly while everyone else slacked off.

The chalkboard read ‘Pro nomine domini nostri obscuritatis, hoc sacramentum libidinis tenebrosum accipio’ in Copia’s nice handwriting.

He nodded at you, and you stood from your desk, sauntering over to him. Considering him for a moment, you pulled the lollipop from your mouth with an audible pop, the Cardinal’s eyes immediately flicking to your lips, which were stained red from the candy.

“Here, hold this.” You said, shoving the lollipop into Copia’s mouth, his eyes widening and cheeks burning red hot at the thought of having something in his mouth that had previously been in yours. You swiped the piece of chalk out of his hand, writing the translation on the board underneath Copia’s writing.

For the name of our Dark Lord, I accept this dark sacrament of lust.

All eyes in the class were on you; how confidently you wrote the answer, and how good you looked while doing it, the short skirt of your habit almost giving everyone an eyeful as you stood on your tippy toes and leaned against the blackboard. You finished by drawing a little heart at the end of your sentence, turning to Copia once more. He had the most pathetically dumb look on his face, still in shock with your lollipop in his mouth. You took one of his hands, placing the piece of chalk in it before taking your lollipop back and deliberately licking his saliva off it before shoving it back in your mouth.

Everyone’s eyes were as wide as pies as you took your seat once more, appalled whispers filtering all throughout the room. Copia was completely besides himself, looking as though he could pass out any second. His blush had spread to the tips of his ears, burning across the bridge of his nose, and surely on his chest under his cassock.

You rested your head in your hand, gazing dreamily at the man as he tried to regain his composure, painfully stammering on about the next paragraph in the book, when a hand swatted at your arm. You looked over, seeing everyone staring at you expectantly.

“What?” You whispered.

“What the fuck was that?” Mable whispered back.

“Yeah, like, ew.” Emily added disapprovingly.

You only shrugged, sticking your tongue out at them and continuing to mindlessly scribble down some notes. Satan, he was fucking delicious. You wanted Copia to be your lollipop instead; you wished you could beg for the Cardinal to spit in your mouth right then and there in front of the whole class. But you couldn’t, not yet. You weren’t… you weren’t done with him yet.

You folded a piece of paper into a neat little airplane, sending it floating through the air and gently crashing into the Cardinal’s back while he was turned around. He turned, afraid that the culprit would be one of the unkind siblings, but instead he saw you giggling at him, your eyes twinkling with mischief. You had been incredibly nice to him, so he knew you didn’t mean anything malicious by it. He picked it up off the ground, inspecting it and seemingly approving of your design before tucking it away into the pocket of his cassock.

You grinned, wondering if he was going to be a little fucking creep about it later. The image of poor Copia clutching that paper and furiously masturbating to the thought of you had you rubbing your thighs together under your desk. But no, he would never. You could tell he was far too shy and ashamed to do that sort of thing, no matter how much he wanted to.

Copia was reading from the book once more, saying something about Latin prayers that should be said before and during sex rituals, and how you can also commit the sin of lust and dedicate it to Satan as an offering. Suddenly, you were so curious, so interested, so you raised your hand to ask a question.

“S-si, yes, you?” The Cardinal pointed to you.

“So…” You tilted your head, playing dumb. “So any two people can commit any sin of lust and use it as an offering to Satanas?” You asked.

“Well, yes-” The man started but you cut him off.

“So, just take you and I for instance.” You continued, pretending to not quite understand, relishing in the way Copia stiffened at the mention of you and him together. “Like, if we committed the sin of lust together, not just through the actual act of sex, but through other lustful activities, then we could also dedicate those to Satan?”

“Y- ehm- w- i- eh- Si, I- I mean, yes, si. That would- that would be, eh, that would be completely, eh, valid.” The poor man struggled, nodding quickly with wide eyes and a tense jaw, his hands clasped in front of him.

You nodded slowly in understanding, pretending to soak in his answer. “So oral activities can be just as effective when making an offering?” You pushed.

“Y-yes, Sorella.” The Cardinal nodded, subconsciously reaching up to tug at his collar. Satan, that slutty high-neck collar of his, he was practically asking for it. Copia reached over to the pitcher of ice water on the desk, pouring himself a glass and downing a few gulps before refilling it and drinking some more, his throat suddenly dry.

“Oh, alright, thank you Cardinal. I wasn’t sure if our Dark Lord had a preference as to where the… you know, ejaculate goes.” You stated simply, punctuating your sentence with another wet pop from your lollipop.

Copia sputtered at that, coughing and choking on his water.

“Cardinal!” You stood, worriedly rushing to his side and patting him on the back. “Are you alright, Cardinal?”

“Si, si…” He cleared his throat, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, finding it difficult to meet your gaze.

“Is there anything this guy is good at? Where’d they even find him?” Rob laughed, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Trash can, maybe? ‘Cause he’s a rat.” Emily suggested, causing several siblings to cover their mouths and stifle laughter.

You rubbed soothing circles on Copia’s back, and once you were sure he was okay, you sat back down at your desk once more so he could finish up the lesson. The rest of it was pretty straight forward, mostly just certain prayers for sex rituals which he tested the class on. You got every question correct, the other students did mediocre, and both Emily and Rob got everything wrong because they were stupid fucking dumbasses who didn’t pay attention in class.

You couldn’t help but turn to them, holding your hand up in the shape of an L on your forehead. Yeah yeah, like in the Smash Mouth song. You just had to rub it in, especially when they were so ruthless to Copia, calling him a loser every chance they got, even though he was fluent in Latin and they sucked ass.

Emily only averted her gaze and crossed her arms, cheeks burning with embarrassment, while Rob pouted at you and passed Emily a note to pass to you.

You rolled your eyes, opening the note and scoffing as you read it.

Hang out after class, hottie?

You scratched a quick ‘no thx!’ onto the paper before crumpling it and throwing it back to him with a little smile that verged on passive aggressive. Rob opened the note and grinned, shrugging it off and not taking it to heart. You were just so pretty and adorable, so you never came off as bitchy when you did things like this.

Facing forward again, you caught Copia watching you and you gave him a little reassuring wink that had his cheeks heating up as he scratched the back of his neck.

A small endearing smile pulled at the Cardinal’s lips. You were such a little firecracker, not caring what anyone else thought. You were so confident, unlike him, and it gave him a sort of satisfaction- one that he wasn’t even sure he deserved- seeing you give your friends a little taste of their own medicine; avenging him in a sense. It was nice knowing he had someone in his corner. Hell, not just anyone, but the most gorgeous sister in the whole ministry.

After class was dismissed, everyone filtered out, immediately clumping into groups and gossiping about Copia. His name could be heard amongst overlapping conversations and sneers as the siblings exited the classroom. You hung back, strolling over to the Cardinal as he sat at the large black wooden desk, deep in thought as he slouched into the chair with eyes closed.

You took a seat right on the desk, getting his attention by gentle brushing your foot over his knee. The poor thing jumped, startled, his wide gaze meeting yours. You noticed the way his odd eyes flicked down to your thighs as you were perched on the desk, the way your little skirt rode up just enough to tease.

Still licking your lollipop, you studied him for a moment, considering him carefully, making him sweat under your silent inspection.

“You know, you’d make a good one.” You remarked, gesturing at him with your candy.

“A.. eh.. a lollipop?” He asked timidly, tilting his head in confusion.

“No, silly, a teacher.” You giggled. “But maybe that too.” You added nonchalantly, causing the man to stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. You bit into the hard candy, then, breaking the heart in two, before holding the stick out to Copia so he could have the other half. With reddened cheeks and a shaky exhale, he took it into his mouth, and you made sure to accidentally brush your finger against his chin as you pulled your hand away. The air was thick between the two of you, but without another word, you were hopping off the desk, grabbing your book bag, and leaving.

Copia leaned back in the ornate black wooden chair, sighing deeply and staring up at the ceiling. You truly confused him; you were so kind yet you made him so incredibly nervous. As he sucked on the rest of your lollipop, the thought of sucking your saliva off it had him letting out a little stifled groan, the realization dawning on him that this is how you would taste: like a sweet cherry candy. He shook his head, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling like a disgusting perverted weirdo as he felt his pants tightening. He abruptly stood, opting to straighten up the classroom and head back to his office.

You, on the other hand, were sauntering down the hall with a skip in your step, waving to people you knew as you passed them. Satan, you were in such a good mood. Apparently, tormenting shy little rat men was one of your new favourite pastimes. You crunched the rest of your lollipop, teeth shattering the candy into sharp shards. Your tongue swiped over your red stained lips, longing to share sticky cherry kisses with your Cardinal. And you would; all in due time.

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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