#so i have to Be somewhere else to use it. so i have to remember to do it. so i dont remember. or if i do i forget my other meds.

[jqnehr]

❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.

boothill x fem!reader.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).

𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.

"You look like you should be in a saloon."

The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.

He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."

"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."

"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."

"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"

"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."

"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"

"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."

"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."

"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"

"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"

"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."

"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"

You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."

"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."

"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"

He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"

You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."

He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."

"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."

"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."

"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.

"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."

"You can't swear?"

"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."

You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."

"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."

"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."

He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."

"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.

"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."

"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."

Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"

"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."

He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"

You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."

"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."

You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."

"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."

You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."

He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."

"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"

He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."

So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."

With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.

you forgot to pay the bill for your drink

so I covered it for you.

you owe me one, cowboy

His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.

Oopsies 🤭

How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?

His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.

Alright then

I want steak

Can you even eat?

You liked how he always replied fast.

Nah

But that's fine

Your company's better

Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.

Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.

Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.

© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works.

[nadvs]

both sinners (part three) (end)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You stagger backwards, hitting the table behind you, as you watch what’s happening in front of you in disbelief.

Rafe is crazed, punching the man who touched you over and over and over again.

“What now, bitch?” he shouts over the music. “Try and touch her now!”

One of the bouncers comes rushing towards the booth and holds Rafe back. It’s a struggle, with Rafe overpowering him and getting one more punch in, before a second bouncer helps to constrain him.

You watch them push him away. Rafe looks to meet your eyes, his chest heaving and his mouth ajar, as he gets pushed out of the club.

You blink in incredulity, unsure of what to do, until you finally go backstage into the dressing room to regain your composure.

You’ve never seen someone so angry over something someone else did to you.

You know what happens to guys that get thrown out. Rafe won’t be let back in for at least the night. It’s possible he doesn’t get let in ever again.

You pull your phone out of your locker and text him: i’m off at 11. we can meet somewhere?

You go back out onto the stage, looking for another customer to make your money and try to shake off what just happened, at least for the rest of your shift.

After work, you meet Rafe at the address he texted you after he was kicked out. He booked a room at a five-star hotel.

“You know, you didn’t have to start swinging,” you tell him when he meets you in the lobby, a coy smile on your face. “We have bouncers for that.”

“They’re obviously doing a great fucking job,” he snips sarcastically. “He grabbed you twice.”

“And I slapped him twice,” you reply. He shakes his head in irritation, taking your hand to lead you to the elevators. Thinking about watching you get touched like that makes the anger swirl in him all over again.

“Not hard enough.”

“So protective,” you tease.

Rafe pushes the top button. You smirk. Of course he got the penthouse suite.

“You realize if they remember what you look like, they might never let you back in, right?” you say as the elevator doors close, leaving you completely alone in the enclosed space.

“Strip at another club, then,” he rasps, leaning down and dragging his hand off of yours to squeeze your ass.

“You think it’s that easy?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What place wouldn’t want you?” Rafe asks, gripping harder as he pulls you against him, his lips an inch away from yours.

The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s utterly obsessed with you. It’s addictive.

The elevator doors open and he slaps your ass to usher you out.

The suite he booked is massive, covered in marble surfaces and gold decor. Rafe leads you through the foyer to the bedroom, where the city lights glimmer behind floor-to-ceiling windows. The place is exquisite.

“Couldn’t you have found something nicer, baby?” you joke, turning to look at him.

He scoffs a chuckle as he closes the distance, hands already up your skirt. He’s been turned on since you stepped on stage hours ago, imagining how hard he’s going to fuck you.

Rafe kneads your ass before roughly pulling the skirt up to your waist. He thinks back to the way the sheer fabric of the dress you wore on stage hugged your body under the club’s lights.

“You know what?” he says.

“What?” Your breath hitches as his hand presses up against your middle.

“I’m gonna buy you more of those slutty little outfits.” His voice is low. “So while you’re dancing up there, you think about who bought you what you’re wearing and who fucks you.”

By the way his cock is hardening against you and the way his breath is spreading on your skin in shallow pants, you can tell he gets off on spoiling you.

You lick your lips and tilt your head, nudging your nose against his.

“I’m the only one fucking you, right?” he mutters, his fingers pressing harder. You love how frequently he likes confirming it.

“Why would I need anyone else?” you reply, loving how you can rile him up.

When his fingers spread your lips apart, you exhale shakily.

“Only I can play with this pussy, yeah?” He rubs over your wetness and finds your clit, making your knees weak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Yes.”

“You gonna dance for me, baby?” Rafe rasps. “I’ll give you more tonight than your customers make in a year.”

You nod, words escaping you. You feel him unzip your skirt, the fabric dropping around your feet. You pull your top over your head, left in just a bra and panties, and his eyes take you in as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“Damn,” he huffs. It’s unbelievable how much you turn him on. The fact that you know how sexy you are, dancing every night for men who you don’t let touch you. Only he can touch you. “How are you real?”

You giggle, regaining some composure.

“Sit down,” you say, looking at the big bed.

“Over there,” Rafe tells you, pulling you to follow him. He takes you to the bathroom, where you spot a baggie of coke beside the jacuzzi.

Once you strip down between hard, wet kisses, you sink into the hot, bubbling water. You straddle him and he gazes at you through heavy lids.

“You want a bump?” Rafe asks, tilting his head towards the coke. He already took a hit before you arrived.

You nod, craving the feeling of elation the coke gives you. He grips your waist with one hand while he reaches for the baggie with the other.

After he makes a line on the edge of the tub for you, you lean over and inhale the powder, giving him an opportunity to palm your tits.

He loves the way your skin glistens from the water as you settle back on his lap. Your head is swimming with euphoria as you kiss him, his fingers rubbing over your nipples. You start to writhe, rolling your hips and giving him a lap dance.

You dip your hand under the water’s surface, gripping his firm length, prompting him to angle his head back with a groan over the sound of the tub’s jets, his voice echoing through the room.

You can’t wait any longer. You perch up to slowly sink onto him, his tip dipping into your entrance.

“Fuck,” Rafe huffs. Your hands are on his shoulders as you take your time, breathing through the pressure of his cock stretching you.

“Good girl,” he groans. “You can take it all. I know you can.”

You bite your lip as you finally reach his base, dizzy from how deep he hits you, enveloped by hot water.

You start to rock on him and his mouth locks around the peak of your breast. He loves the feeling of pure sin while he fucks you, both of you high and rolling.

You rake his hair back, leaning so your chest presses against his forehead as you start to bounce on him, panting in his ear.

Rafe’s hands curve around your ass as you roll on top of him, the water splashing as you quicken your pace. You start moaning and he squeezes you harder, his face contorting in pleasure.

You moan in his ear as you come to a fast orgasm, clenching around him in flutters. He hardens inside of you soon after, cumming in rhythmic throbs.

“Goddamn,” he groans, thinking back to all the parties he noticed you at. “I can’t believe this is what I was missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were this much fun.”

You giggle and the sight of your smile makes him smile back.

“Now you know,” you say with a shrug.

You’re absolutely spent when you lie on the plush bed, body bare and wet, not bothering to cover up with a towel. Rafe loves the sight of you like this and he leans down, smoothing over your cheek with his hand as he kisses you.

“We’re getting room service,” he murmurs. “What do you want?”

“The most expensive thing on the menu,” you joke. He’s unfazed, pacing to the phone surely to order exactly that.

“Wait,” you laugh. “Let me see the menu.”

Half-naked and high, you and Rafe sit on top of the bed, the television on in the background, eating at midnight.

It must be the coke and the sex and the delicious five-star food, but you get the impulse to ask what you’ve been wondering all night.

“We both know you’re the only guy I’m seeing,” you say, “but am I the only girl?”

“Obviously,” he says simply.

“It’s not so obvious,” you say with a laugh.

“Now it is,” Rafe says. You appreciate his direct approach.

“Why do you deal?” you ask. Seeing his house just once would tell anyone he comes from a wealthy family. He doesn’t exactly need to be selling drugs.

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” he quips.

“I think I make enough dating you,” you respond with a laugh. Rafe likes how exclusive it sounds. Dating. Meaning you’re his only.

“I like making my own money,” he says honestly. “And I like having coke around when I want it.”

“You’re a no bullshit type of guy.” Rafe appreciates the compliment.

“Why do you strip?” he asks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” you echo.

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs, nudging you. You decide you’ve eaten enough, letting the gentle push shift you to lie on your back again.

“You’re hot. You’d do great as a stripper,” you tease, raising your arms above your head and sighing. He takes in the vision of you lying like this, relaxed and joking around with him, and he realizes he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rafe says.

“It’s great money,” you reply. “Especially if you have a rich drug dealer obsessed with you. It’s funny because you’re the only customer I’d dance for for free.”

He laughs again and you look over at him, sitting up shirtless, and smile. It feels like something out of a movie. A drug dealer and his stripper girlfriend laughing together in an extravagant hotel room.

Rafe moves the paper containers off the bed and sinks between your legs, laying his head on your chest.

You run your hands over his firm, warm shoulders and sigh at the sensation he gives you. He seems to live for the next 24 hours only, and so do you, and this is why this works so well.

He gives you a wad of cash before you part ways.

Your next shift is a few nights after your time in the hotel and Rafe is relieved the bouncers don’t recognize him. He settles in a cushioned chair in the dark club, knowing if they denied him entry, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and it would get ugly.

His heart skips when you walk out in stage wearing a black lacy set he bought you. You drift around the pole like a goddess, slowly undressing, making him hard in seconds.

Rafe looks away when you approach a man sitting in a booth. He might break someone’s jaw if he watches you dance on them, especially if they touch you.

He knows your interest in these guys isn’t genuine, remembering how you told him he’s the only one you’d dance for for free. This will just be a shitty part of dating you, and compared to the good parts, he can take this.

A few minutes later, you walk over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say over the throbbing music. “Thought I should tell you that guy just asked for a private room. Don’t freak out.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he takes a pull of his drink. You notice his irritation immediately, leaning over to speak into his ear.

“This is just work,” you say. “I can’t wait to clock out so we can fuck like we did in that hotel room.” His lips quirk up in a smile.

“I’ll break his hands if he tries anything,” he warns. You believe him.

After your shift, you and Rafe head to a party at one of the mansions sitting on the north side of the island.

But instead of leading you to the front door, he pulls you to the dark, empty shoreline, and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s turned on.

“On the beach?” you say, amused.

“You said we’d fuck, didn’t you?”

When you find a place on the sand, the night sky nearly starless, the waves crashing, you pull each other’s bottoms off with fervor.

Rafe’s on top of you, breaths shallow as he nips at your shoulder, guiding himself into you with a hunger deep inside him. It seems the more he has you, the more desperate he gets.

“I was hard all fucking night watching you dance,” he mutters, sinking into you, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you whisper, tilting your hips, sinking into the sand. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Who else can do this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answer. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Yeah, you fucking are,” he says, pulling back and thrusting into you. His hand grips around your neck as he pounds you, claiming you with every slam.

You mean it. You’re his, happily.

After you make your way up to the house party, Rafe pulls you onto his lap the second he finds a seat on the massive balcony facing the darkened beach where you just fucked.

A man comes by asking for a gram and Rafe pulls out his bagged coke, trading it for bills. After the deal, he places a few twenties in your pocket, kissing the side of your neck.

You still feel the sand on your skin as he skims your leg with rough fingertips.

Maybe you’d be ashamed doing this with another man, being paid for sex and getting spoiled and doing drugs and fucking every chance you get.

But with Rafe, the sin is so sweet that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. You’ll happily live in the next 24 hours with him, over and over and over again.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[reilemon]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, “Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.���

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks.  And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm!  you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.  

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half.  You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front. 

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

[elsa-fogen]

what do you think about the fact that al likes doodling?

i have a head canon that he has some sort of scrapbook or sketchbook full of little doodles of things going on at the hotel and just in his life, I feel like he would draw really stick-figureish (is that a word?) but I read a fic that depicted it as the same art style as an Invader-Zim obsessed scene girl and I could not stop cackling.

I also feel like he would either guard it with his life from everyone (exception to Rosie, of course) or just not bother to tell anyone and one day they just find him doodling schoolgirl style, kicking his legs in the air, LMAO NEW THOUGHT WHAT IF CHARLIE OR LUCIFER FOUND IT

OH! OH! Now that you mentioned it - i LOVE that about him! I just absolutely ADORE little thing he made for the add in the first episode. And i love this fact because 1) he's the first character i like that likes to draw canonically (okay maybe also toothless from httyd?) 2) Me and Alastor share so many similarities, and even drawing???? This just makes me love him even more (i'm sure we would hate each other irl tho AHAHHAHAHA or maybe not, idk)

SO, SINCE ME AND AL ARE SO SIMILAR, I'M GONNA PROJECT ON HIM MY DRAWING HABITS >:3c Forgive me this one, i usualy don't do that, i usualy project characters on myself haha

He DOES have sketchbooks just to draw, and they are ORGANISED. He's numbers every sketchbook and counts every drawing in them since the first one. He also has two numbers for each page - through one sketchbook and through them all. He has over 300 of sketchbooks by now (I have less, only 56). They are stashed somewhere in a very safe place.

Every sketchbook has a date of first and last drawing. Also amount of drawings. It looks like: NOTEBOOK 253 (number of sketchbook, also he doesn't call them sketchbooks) 03.06.1978-05.07.1978 (dates while it was active) 119 (amount of drawings) 29961-30080 (which numbers of drawings are in this sketchbook) He would cound something else, but he's just too busy to spend time on it. He can remember something thinking about what he was drawing in that period and vice versa

He used to draw at overlords meetings, pissing off Carmila and everyone else, because it looked like he hadn't listened to them, so Carmila banned drawing at overlords meetings (Alastor is still angry about it)

But he doesn't progress too much - most of his progress was made through first 10-20 sketchbooks, now he only has slight style changes sometimes when he feels like it

Tho he's really proud of his current skill and used to think that he's literally the best (used to get angry when reminded that it's not true) (now he kinda knows, but still likes his own drawings, doesn't accept criticism and doesn't try to purposely improve)

He likes showing his drawings to people, he knows and if he does, you have to say that it's literally So Cool, show enthusiasm turning pages and say that everything is just amazing. If you don't, he'll be OFFENDED. He also can leave a sketchbook opened on a page with a drawing he likes the most, and it's like a sign "NOTICE THAT I'M DRAWING AND SAY THAT YOU LIKE IT"

If he considers you a friend (well not like Rosie, but at least like Charlie), he'll be showing you his drawings regularly (and you have to be enthusiastic about it!!!!!!) He has showed it to Charlie, but somehow her enthusiasm is... too much. She's too patronising about it. He also shows his things to Husk, he knows that Husk is annoyed and doesn't give a shit, and he just enjoys his annoyance. He also shows his drawings to Niffty and she gives him Just Right amount and vibe of enthusiasm. (He sometimes draws something for her fanfiction if he likes something enough and enjoys Niffty's reaction (she explodes from happiness)). BUT!!!!! He never shows anything to Mimzy. Because she's like, person from the real life, and he feels like she would laugh at it. To Rosie he shows only things he considers his best and her opinion is the most important to him. He can even forgive her criticism (wouldn't take it tho) (she never critisizes him and absolutely ADORES his drawings). Angel kinda likes his drawings, but isn't enthusiastic about them enough

He doesn't take requests (Angel tried "draw me like one of your french girls" shit, Alastor never did (also his ass did not get the reference and he was like "i dont??? have??? any french girls????")) (Vox also tried to make Alastor draw something for him, Alastor was just "that's interesting, i'll think about it" and never thought of it again)

SOME OF HIS DRWINGS TURNED OUT TO BE PROPHECIES but he notices that only when something happens and then he goes back to his old sketchbooks and accidentally finds it. They are just coincidenses tho, but it's fun and Alastor makes a big deal from it and screams to Rosie like "I PREDICTED THAT SHIT 27 YEARS AGO" when finds out. (it's how i predicted many plot points from SU and literally TOH hunter's possession before the show even was a thing JHJDFJHFGJFDHKH i wonder if i predicted something from Hazbin, i need to look through my sketchbooks now)

If you dare to mess with his drawings and vandalise them... oh... you better pray to whatever god you belive in to make your sufferings be enough to redeem your sins and go to heven.

[ros3ybabe]

🎀 Overcoming Gym Anxiety 🎀

I got asked about this through my inbox by @sxfiaaa so I figured I'd make a post about it and hopefully help a lot of people with something I too used to struggle with!

🩷 Wear Comfortable Clothing

We've all seen the beautifully dressed people on Tiktok, Pinterest, etc in their matching sets and cutr gym clothes. If that is what you're comfortable wearing to the gym, do it! Wear it, and be confident in it! If you're more of a loose clothes/sweatpants/baggy shirts or hoodie type of person, do that! Wear whatever you feel comfortable (and cute) in, because the better you feel going into a workout, the more you'll be able to focus on your workout!

🩷 Know What You're Doing When You're There

This just means go in with a plan! You don't need to know how to use every single machine or do every single exercise known to mankind. Scroll tiktok or pinterest for some workout videos for inspo (please make sure the video you get inspo from shows proper form!!! Proper form is so important for being safe!!)

If you know you can go certain days of the week, make a workout split to follow that! EX 3 day split: Monday - Leg Day, Wednesday - Upper Body, Friday - Full Body

OR, if you just want to go do cardio, then plan for that! I didn't know how to use a treadmill, but I went to the gym at my university and stood on the treadmill til I figured it out!

🩷 Remember This

No one is going to look at you and judge you or think mean things about you. Everyone is at the gym for the purpose of bettering themselves and their health. If you find people giving you occasional glances, maybe it's because they don't recognize you from the gym (or they do recognize you from somewhere else), maybe their admiring your outfit/physique, maybe their avid gym goers who are watching your form and technique, or maybe their just zoned out and you happen to be in the line of sight.

When I'm at the gym, I look around between sets and take note on other people's form to see if maybe I should tweak the way I do a certain exercise, or I'm admiring another girls outfit or physique because there are a lot of beautiful women at the gym. Sometimes, I'm thinking "dang, they're lifting so heavy, how cool!" or "wow, their form is amazing, they really know what they're doing." I've never thought bad abut someone at the gym because why would I?

🩷 Don't Be Scared To Ask For Help

if there an exercise you really want to do but don't know how and videos aren't helping, ask someone around you who isn't in the middle of an exercise and looks like they may know. The guy at the gym doing upper body who has good biceps may be the right guy to ask about upper body exercises. The girl doing impeccable Bulgarian Split Squats might be the right person to ask for help with those types of movements. Just make sure they aren't in the middle of an exercise, because that can cause some unwanted issues, especially if they're mid-rep, that can turn into a safety issue.

People love to help people, especially at the gym. If you politely ask for help from someone, they may take it as a compliment that you think they look like a person who is knowledgeable on working out. I'd definitely be so flattered if someone asked me for help or advice at the gym!

🩷 Random Advice:

remember your why! no matter how anxious you are, remember why you're going! what are your goals, what do you hope to achieve, how proud will you feel after?

start small if you have to! if it's really anxiety inducing to start working out, make it your first goal to at least step into the gym. then 2nd goal, walk around the gym to get a feel for it. 3rd goal, maybe 5-10 minutes on a treadmill, and then keep building momentum each day.

be careful with the hours you go! there is such a thing as peak gym hours. It varies by place, but a lot of gyms are busy between 2pm and 6pm I've seen. I personally love going to the gym super early morning, it's a little less busy and I'm a morning person so it works out for me! If you can only go during peak hours, bring a friend or keep your headphones on and do your thing!

Bring a friend! If you're really anxious about going alone, bring a friend with similar goals! Sometimes it can be a lot nicer to learn something new with a friend then try and learn it on your own! Plus, it's like extra motivation and accountability!

Have a motivating pre workout routine. Play some music while getting ready, prep your bags, prep your playlist, get your workout itself figured out, and just keep yourself excited to go! I love blasting high-energy music that makes me feel like a baddie on my way to the gym.

I hope this was helpful!! My thoughts were everywhere but I tried to convey them as best as possible! I'm happy to answer any questions or offer more tips and advice, don't feel scared to ask! <3

til next time lovelies 🩷

[redrobin-detective]

So I've been listening to my two favorite songs from Hadestown, Wait For Me (Reprise) and Road to Hell (Reprise), on loop for a few days. And on my 400th listen something occurred to me.

Orpheus was writing his song to "make spring come again". He wanted to "fix what's wrong, take what's broken and make it whole." His entire purpose was to write "a song so beautiful it brings the whole world back into tune." (From Come Home with Me).

And he did. Using his love for Eurydice, he was able to finish his song, his masterpiece. But the cost of his dedication to his music meant his love went hungry and went to Hadestown for food and shelter.

He hoped his love and his music would be strong enough to save her, a task we know was ultimately futile but we still sing about it because maybe one day it will be different but also... He did make spring come again. He helped Hades be more secure in his love for Persephone so she could stay on Earth long enough for their to BE a spring. He did take a broken, strained marriage and help them communicate, make them whole. He did bring the whole world back into tune when he sang their song and another pair of distanced lovers began to dance after so long of arguing.

Everyone else got their happy ending but him and Eurydice.

He did not fail, he just not could not imagine that his song didn't have room for his own happiness. It's a reminder that for every triumph there is tragedy, every repaired relationship there is a breakup and that while it may be spring somewhere, somewhere else it is winter. I don't know, that idea of mixed blessing tragedies in the story intrigued me. Because someone's worst day may be someone's best. And that is why we must always sing these songs, to remember on the bright days and to get us through the darkness and to know, someday, spring will come again.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 31

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/infertility

(I meant for this to be funny/lighthearted but it turned slightly angsty? Don't worry though. It's sandwiched between fluff.)

Consequences

Killer woke up before you did. At some point in the night, the positions changed until you were now the little spoon and he was curled around your back, face pressed into your hair, inhaling the way you smelled. His hand rested on your stomach, having very innocently moved your shirt out of the way so he could feel the soft skin underneath. It slid down to gently knead at your love handle. He wanted to stay like that for longer; unfortunately a ship of hungry pirates was not pleasant to be aboard. "Y/N," he whispered. "You're gonna help with breakfast, aren't you?"

You groaned, pulling the sheets over your head. "Not now, boss. M'sleepy." Clearly, you were somewhere else in your head.

His fingers prodded your ribs until a soft giggle came from under the sheets. "Wake up, breadcrumb."

"Killerrrrrrrrrr." You turned to face him with half-lidded eyes, barely peeking out from the sheets. You were about to plant a kiss on him, but shrunk closer to him when you heard boots approaching the door to the bathroom. He was also turned on his side, facing you, so you were hidden behind him, still under the sheets.

The door opened and Killer half-turned to see Kid standing in the doorway. "Killer, why are there three toothbrushes?" Kid's eyes were narrowed. 

"You must have taken out another one when you were drunk." Killer didn't feel like dealing with Kid this early in the morning. 

"No. Mine is blue, yers is red, and now there's a purple."

Killer straightened slightly. "Mine is blue."

"Pretty sure mine is the blue one."

"Kid!" Killer knew all too well what Kid did with his mouth and frowned at the implication they had inadvertently been sharing. "Why the fuck would I use red when that's your color? I'm blue. You're red."

Kid shrugged. "I like blue." He shook his head. "Wait that's not what I'm here to argue about. Why is there a purple!?" Kid walked around Killer's bed to see who was in it. He had a suspicion that Killer hadn't invited him to your nighttime activities like he promised. Kid grabbed the covers and yanked at them, but they didn't budge, firmly in your grip. So he did the next best thing and snaked his hand underneath, finding a small foot. "Aha!" He dragged you out from the end of the bed.

You tried to grab something to hold onto to no avail. "Killer, help!" You reached for him and giggled. "Noooooo!" You yelled as you were rudely pulled out and left to plop onto the floor. "Ow, Kid." You sat at the foot of the bed on the floor, letting your head fall back against the mattress behind you. 

"I knew it! Ya fucked without me!"

"No, we didn't, Kid." Killer rolled his eyes and reached for his helmet on the side table. "Swear on your life."

Kid looked confused. "Why not? On yer period or somethin?" Why else would you be in the same bed as Killer and not fuck?

Killer scoffed. "What does that matter?" He got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was." You didn't think anything of it. Kid was, again, ruining your nice moments with Killer and it was annoying you. "Believe me. I tried." You added, "We just... cuddled. It was... nice." You felt yourself starting to flush and took that as your cue to leave before Kid could make fun of you. You moved in the shadows, trying to avoid being seen leaving Killer's room in pjs and simultaneously praying you didn't get a splinter in your bare feet. Somehow, you were successful on both fronts. Emma and Quincy noticed your absence all last evening, but they assumed you had been helping Killer in the galley and then stayed with Kid. You didn't correct them. It was weird. You could care less if people talked about you and Kid. Killer, though, you wanted to keep that to yourself. It felt wrong to talk about it, especially since it respected his privacy, too.

You met Killer in the galley to help with breakfast. Every time he put his hand against your back to push past you or grabbed something from you, brushing your hand, you felt hot. You kept feeling hot. Really hot. The feeling didn't go away and you were sweating. You leaned against the counter, feeling lightheaded.

Killer stopped his buzzing around the kitchen to put his hand on your forehead. "Are you ok?"

You shook your head. "I think I need to lay down." You felt fine when you woke up so why did you suddenly start feeling cruddy? 

"Do you want me to come check on you later?" Killer probably would have just done it, however he didn't want to overstep, afraid that you would feel suffocated if he gave you too much attention too soon.

"I'm okay." You didn't want Killer wasting his time looking after you. After all, you were the doctor.

You headed directly to the infirmary, rifling through the cabinets for a few things. Before you had the chance to take the rainbow of pills sitting on the counter, a wave of nausea overcame you. Sprinting into the bathroom without a second to spare, you were hung over the toilet, heaving your guts out. Mostly bile came up since you had digested the previous night's food already. When your stomach decided to calm down, you dragged yourself to lay on one of the gurneys, promptly passing out.

The captain was in his workshop, still miffed about being left out. So what if there was no fucking? Maybe he wanted to snuggle, too. So what if he was a brute? He liked soft things, too. The sound of you entering your side of the involuntarily shared space directed his thoughts elsewhere. Kid heard all the commotion through the massively huge hole in the wall, still not fixed. "If yer gonna puke, at least shut the door. Damn," Kid mumbled. He wondered what had you feeling like shit. Surely, it wasn't Killer's cooking. He couldn't think of a time when he had ever gotten sick from his first mate's food. But there was an itch in his brain. Something you said earlier. It sent him into a cold sweat. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was."  One by one, every time he fucked you played in his head, and by default, every time he came, some times on you, but mostly in you. "Shit." Kid, paler than ever, went to find Killer. 

Kid burst through the galley doors, trying to be cool, but the shifting of his eyes gave away that he was in his head. "Hey, Kil." He pretended to be interested in the food, which was hardly pretending except for the fact his stomach was doing flips. "Did ya, uh, notice anything about Y/N this morning?" 

That got Killer's attention. Kid had never referred to you by name before, always using 'Rotten' or his other nicknames. Killer continued to cook, "Yeah. She didn't feel good." Where is he going with this? 

"I heard her puking in the infirmary bathroom." Kid seemed anxious.

Killer was immediately concerned. "You think it was my spaghetti?" He sounded dejected. The pride he had in his food would be severely wounded if he had accidentally gave you food poisoning. He felt fine, though, and you had eaten the same thing. 

Kid rubbed his arm. "No. I think it possibly, may be, slightly my fault." He was sweating.

The first mate knew his captain well, and knew that he was struggling to say something. "Kid," he said lowly. "What did you do?" Killer didn't know what to think. Did Kid pull a prank that went wrong? Maybe he accidentally poisoned you. Killer knew Kid had been annoying you by moving stuff around in the infirmary. What if he switched the bottles of something and you took too much of the wrong thing? "You better go apologize for whatever it is if you're sweating this badly over it."

"I don't think an apology will do much." Kid took a deep breath. "Remember earlier this morning? When I said the thing about the period and then she said she couldn't remember the last one." 

Killer put 2 and 2 together. "Kid... We've talked about this." The world didn't need any more red-headed pirates in it.

"I know. I know! But in the moment... And she didn't stop me! So it's not all my fault!"

Killer wasn't all that worried. Sure. It was a very real possibility, but he doubted a woman so hellbent on revenge and being reckless would even allow it to be a remote one. "She's not stupid, Kid. If she wasn't worried, then either there's not a reason to be, OR she wanted to have your kid. And I HIGHLY doubt the second possibility. She can't stand even the one of you."

Kid looked a touch offended. "Killer, you aren't taking this seriously." Kid ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't put that much thought into thatpart of his future. 

Killer shrugged. "It's not my kid." He knew that would rile Kid up, but couldn't resist poking at him. If he was actually concerned, he would be more empathetic. 

Kid huffed. "Well the way the two of ya are getting on, yer gonna be the step-dad." He folded his arms, reminded of being left out.

"Oh my god, you're jealous." Killer chuckled. Kid was so cute when he was jealous. His pouty face and grumbling voice made Killer grin under his mask. Killer shook his head and sighed. "Why don't you leave her alone for now, and later I'll go with you to check up on her, unless you want to go by yours-"

"No. I need ya to come with me." Kid quickly interjected. It's not like he was scared or anything. It was for you, in case you needed Killer's support.

After an entire day of Kid pacing the ship, freaking out in his head, Killer had found him and the two went to check on you. At first Kid was freaking out about the presence of a child on a pirate ship, though none of them were raised in savory conditions in the first place, so maybe it would be fine. Then he was freaking out because the combined personalities of you and he would be an absolute demon of a child, and how would he make it listen. Kid didn't really love the idea of a kid, but he would be damned if he let it grow up like he, Killer, Wire, and Heat did. If you even stayed, or wanted it, or wanted to participate in raising it. There were a lot of uncertainties. Unwarranted, as he would soon find out.

Killer knocked and entered. 

"I told you not to check on me," your voice was strained. They didn't see you initially. You had opted to lay with Mini on the floor, instead of the gurney. Lay was a strong term, you were curled into a ball, shivering. "Don't come closer!" You held your hand out in a gesture to stop. 

"You look like shit." Killer saw how green and clammy you were. Sweating, yet shaking like you were freezing. He could plainly see that you were sick. 

Lifting your head to look at him, you didn't think Kid would be there as well. You assumed Killer would probably come check on you or send Heat even though you said not to. Kid, though, he wasn't the type to show concern for another person. You pulled yourself up to be sitting. He had a weird energy about him. "What's your problem?" You directed it at Kid.

"YER PREGNANT!" He blurted it right out. 

You stared at him blankly. How the fuck did he reach that conclusion? A bunch of things went through your head at once. It was something you didn't go telling everyone. But you realized you probably should have mentioned it to the guy who was shooting loads in you basically every day for weeks off and on. You didn't feel bad, however, because you were still mad at him for a variety of reasons and he deserved to sweat a little. "Well, fuck I would have stopped drinking if I knew that." You got serious and frowned at him. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Kid stammered. "I-I- uh." He didn't have to struggle for long. He thought you were crying before realizing you were laughing at him.

"Kid, relax. I'm not." You smirked. "Is that why you ran out of here like a scared animal this morning?" You shouldn't be laughing at his mental torment, but seeing Kid a little scared was interesting and you were a little delirious from whatever concoction you whipped up for yourself. 

"Told you." Killer stated, matter-of-factly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

"Shut up. I wasn't worried." Kid grumbled, though visibly relieved. "But explain anyways," Kid demanded. "You were puking and... you know all the times-"

"All the times you couldn't pull out because this pussy is too good? Yeah I recall." Mainly, you didn't want to go about your day dripping cum into your panties. You gave up on asking him to pull out however, because he simply couldn't. "I would have been a lot angrier with you if there was a risk of getting pregnant, dumbass. But now I can't help but wonder how many brats you have out there in the world with that shitty ass pull-out game." You were giggling. 

"I'm more careful with whores! Shut up!" Kid was fully red. 

Killer shot you a dubious look.

"Aw, does that mean I'm not a whore to you?" You decided to grace him with an answer. "It's physically impossible for me to have a kid. So you can continue to nut as you please, when I decide to fuck you again." '

"When?" Killer questioned, a cheeky look on his face.

You corrected yourself. "If. If I decide."

Normally Kid would have been focusing on the part about the nutting. However, he was stuck on the first thing you said. You weren't a whore to him, but what were you to him? Both you and Killer had assumed he was jealous of the time Killer spent with you instead of with him. Kid found himself strangely jealous of your attention. He wanted more of it. "Why can't ya?" Kid didn't mean to be rude, for once. He just wanted to know, to be sound of mind.

Killer hit the back of his head. "You can't ask that!" 

"It's fine." It didn't really bother you. You never wanted kids in the first place and in this life, it was a blessing in disguise. A really painful, terrible disguise. You pulled up your shirt, holding the hem in your teeth, and unbuttoned your pants, pulling the waistband down until it was at the edge of your pubes. "You probably never noticed it since you were preoccupied with... other things." There was a pale, silvery, jagged scar about 2/3 of the way from your belly button to your mons, just above your pubic ramus. "Katana got me." You shivered and put your pants back on. 

"Oh," was all Kid said. 

"You really don't look good. Do you need some soup? Water?" Killer saw how uncomfortable you were and also wanted to change the subject since he wasn't sure how much it bothered you. 

"M'fine." You let yourself slide back down on your side. Mini picked up her head and licked you.

Stubborn. "Ok. Will you have someone get me if it gets worse?"

"Probably not."

"It wasn't a question," Killer put on his first-mate voice. He continued, "Kid, why don't you keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not fuckin staying here ta get sick."

"Lucky for you, someone installed an observation window," Killer motioned to the big fucking hole in the wall, "so you can sit alllll the way at your workbench and still see." 

Kid grumbled, walking over to his side of the space and Killer left. 

You barely moved over the next day and Kid couldn't stand the sight of you shivering. So damn annoying. He tried to ignore it, ignore you. Every noise or sudden movement you made had his head snapping up to see what was wrong. He couldn't focus on anything he did. With a frustrated growl, he stomped over to look down on you. "Yer so damn irritating." Shrugging his coat off, he laid it over you. "If ya barf on this, I'm throwing ya into the sea, got it?" You didn't give any response, deep in sleep. His eyes flicked to your right ear. The top part of the helix was missing, damaged from the attack you had endured. He didn't know what came over him the other day, but as he fiddled with scraps, he had an idea. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small, crescent shaped piece of metal that he hid from Killer earlier in the week. It was cuffed and made from a nice silvery-colored metal. With a gentleness unbecoming of hands so rough and calloused, he moved your hair out of the way and slid the metal prosthetic, though it was more like jewelry, over your ear. It attached to the helix that was left to resemble the part that was missing, like the tip of your ear was dipped in silver. "Hmph." A small flicker of pride lit inside him. It looked good. Of course it does. I made it. He didn't know why, but he did.

[howlonomy]

in all the 'trauma siblings' stuff with Clover & Kanako, I keep coming back to thinking about how Flowey engages with this

Like, here's someone who went through an at least similar ordeal of getting a human soul mixed into a monster body, leading to a lethal, traumatic injury, into a rebirth into a new body whose physical and emotional state are all way the fuck out of wack

Except Flowey was shaped a lot by having to go through the traumatic aftermath alone, and lives in the weird space of having experienced unknown years of resets but also is still mentally kind of a child

So I have to think that Flowey sees these kids and that little Asriel part of him is screaming "don't let them wind up like us", but being Flowey he also has no idea how to really comfort anyone.

Leading to sweet moments like Clover collapsing somewhere and before anyone else in their family can even pick up on something being wrong, there's already vines springing up to catch them, because of course Flower would know how to spot weakness in people after years of doing that, but now there's a productive positive use for that instinct and it's nice

But also moments like "Gee how do I cheer up Kanako about that appointment with Alphys... I know! We'll torment her! What a wonderful idea!" Because hey, a little bit of sadism always cheered him up when he was suffering

And he'd probably settle toward a crass & hyperbolic style of comforting people with hit-or-miss moments, like a sort of "Wow clover you ate SHIT just now", trying to get them laughing at the misfortune instead of crying, but obviously sometimes It's Not The Time For That or he reverts a bit back to thinking something really fucked up like "Man, that person was really rude just now, we should kill them and everyone they love" and the kids look back at Flowey like "dude what the fuck"

And everybody's different ways of processing trauma are constantly both helping and clashing with each other as these kids help each other figure this shit out because as much as the adults want to help nobody but these 3 can really come close to understanding how it feels

this has been a big ramble for an ask and not really an ask but I wanted you to have this

THIS IS SOOOO GOOD BECAUSE YOURE 100% RIGHT

flowey struggles with knowing the concept of empathy and compassion but not really. KNOWING it. i imagine he can at least remember how it feels being asriel and during the final boss but. its easy to know what it is and harder to put it into practice when you dont actually feel it

i think youre right in that he would try his best to help but not really know HOW. like it takes him a bit to realize that oh, i can see the weaknesses in people, whatdo i do with this information now that i cant use it to exploit them? what can i do to help instead of harm? what is objectively the GOOD thing to do with this information?

hes still an asshole and a bitch but he cares. hes learning to anyways. even if he missteps a lot the people around him are forgiving and willing to help him on the right path and correct him. i love…. flowey :[

[sleepynegress]

On Challengers...

Okay.

So, here's the thing. It's decent.

It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.

....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow? And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant. Remember, the movie Closer? -I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.

Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen.... .....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean. This felt like it held back at moments... When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other. It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!) I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis. THAT did deliver. WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping. A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN. It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.

Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star. But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...' He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that. He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...

Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell. You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze. And resented regardless.

*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress. Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department. Mike Faist is a STAR. He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls. I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.

Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else. Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man. Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething. Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh* ...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé. Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.

....Anyway. It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.

P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster. P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...

Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?) Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.

This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not. Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit! Note they never even touch each other.

[kit-williams]

Hoof Care

Yes I was really thinking of Baldamort's voice for Drar (Watch his video on the Master of Executions and well you can probably figure out where I got Drar's voice from)

Husbandry tag list: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

thank you @squishyowl for the 40k themed dividers

It was that time of the month again where you'd get a call to go to them they paid you quiet a bit and of course you weren't the only person going... it was always a big big event. You head to the Iron Warrior's base near the city... most Chaos Space Marines' don't have bases but their loyalist counterparts do... though Iron Warriors are an exception not a norm. Though you weren't sure as the Iron Warriors didn't have too much friction with their "traitor" selves? You didn't understand nor really bother too.

The norm would be the fact that there is a Night Lord base being built somewhere given that there were now enough loyalist night lords demanding it. But you made sure your tools were sharp and everything was ready... you knew the only downside of the Iron Warriors was the fact that both loyalist and traitor elements kept pushing and vying for power within their own... faction?

As you backed your truck in and got out you could hear his crooning... he was old had that slightly withered lit to his voice as it croaked out of him as if he had ruined his vocal cords time and time again. "Missy so nice of you to join us." Drar the Warpcutter spoke and if you remembered he said he was the leader of a warband known as the Malefactors of Sin.

"Lord Drar... and hello Helios." You politely said as his Master of Executions followed. The big man behind him looked at you and you swallowed... you didn't get the feel good vibes everyone else got. Your eyes flicked to their weapons... to the skulls up their belt... and you had a feeling Drar enjoyed the fact you were afraid of them. "Where is Vasso..." You ask for the current "chapter master" and you watch Drar wave his hand.

"Busy. The child is going to work himself to death at this rate and I... took the liberty of playing host for him." He says with a grin, "But enough pleasantries... you're the final one to arrive." You flinch as his massive hand pushes against your back and you move into the hanger.

Chaos Space Marines of countless chapters and warbands were here all highly mutated. Heavy hooves clipped and clopped against the floor as centaurs made their way to the designated zone. You headed over to the other ferriers as Drar trilled his goodbye and Helios just gave a nod. You could see where other space marines were watching and learning how to take care of their mutated brothers and cousins as in the far corner you could see iron warriors guarding feral marines that took the offer for maintained care but do not want humans touching them. You could understand as it took you a long time to get over the wrongness of your clients.

At least they behaved better than horses, the massive hooves were clipped and trimmed even polished if they wanted too. The utterly massive Black Legionary stallion... Troc was his name, he would have been such a pretty black horse, brought his own shoes... shiny brass things. He liked his hooves painted a nice solid black.

You could hear Adamatar bellowing as the white minotaur had hurt one of his hooves and so trying to get him to behave enough to put a block on his hoof was feeling like an impossible task. You could spy long tails wagging as fur coats were being brushed... a canine centaur of a Night Lord was half asleep as he was getting his jet black fur coat groomed and nails trimmed on his paws. You trimmed the frog of Troc's hooves just shaping his hoof as he was currently gushing about his bonded... a little girl who had a habit of calling him "pony" or "horsey" when she got overly excited and also calling him "Truck".

The shiny iron horseshoes of a bulky draft of an Iron warrior caught your eye. They certainly liked to feel pretty.... you shiver as a heavily mutated space marine lumbers past... organized chaos of it all and you're getting paid enough that it makes you not have to worry about the slower times of the year.

You could see someone with their body leaning into a massive stomach maw just cleaning the teeth of the marine. You stop looking as you hammer in his shoe and work on cutting the nails and then applying the black hoof polish.... rinse and repeat.

Sure they cooperated more then an actual animal but it was still a lot of hard work. "Hey!" You snapped at someone's apprentice. "Don't just walk behind them!" You said pointing out the fact that they were just walking right behind the centaurs. Which if he was working with actual horses was bad practice.

"They won't kick." They countered back.

"Yeah but they still can't see you and when you work with an actual horse they will kick if you walk right behind you. Give them the same berth as you would an actual horse because if one of these boy's kicks you're going to die." You huff as you resume working on the hooves of the Iron Warrior as someone was working on his horns... it was sometimes easier to do multiple tasks on the same marine as they kept still.

Lunch was provided and it was nice... it felt normal to have that lull in working as you grabbed a coffee as you worked in shifts... went around inspecting other's techniques... watching how some of them were teaching their apprentices, in various fields, or how they were teaching the Astartes on how to take care of their own. Sometimes a feral marine would be brave and try to get taken care of by one of us "mortals" but you never volunteered you had plenty of Astartes asking for you to work on them personally.

But the day blurred on by till you were getting handed a stack of cash of a few thousand dollars with the hope that you would come back same time next month and as well as the cavate that if something changed they would inform you. Again you see Drar as you head back to your trunk and a cup of coffee, that looks so small in his hands, is given to you. "What's this for?"

"Job well done?" He croons.

"Ah yes the usual hush coffee so I don't tattle on Vasso of you playing chapter master huh?" You say ignoring the scowl on his face as you sip the coffee, "or... is it hush coffee to keep me from tattling again to Vasso because you enjoy scaring people?"

"Mouthy little mortal aren't you." He hisses as you cow slightly, far too tired to not be filled with dread as he moves far too smoothly for something so big. He spat to the side, "But something like that."

"And like usual I'm going to be the last one to leave because you like chatting." You say tiredly as you drink the hot brew that made you feel tired. You had enough for a hotel in the city for tonight though... beds were always available here at the fortress. "I have a feeling you're going to chat me up so long I might just have to spend the night."

Drar laughed, it was hardly a pleasant sounding thing... it was dark and ominous... it was downright an evil sounding thing that ended rolling in his chest till it quieted. "You look exhausted."

You just drank the coffee to prevent yourself from making a 'captain obvious' joke, "I might stay tonight or at least get a few hours of shut eye."

"Then let me play the good host once more." He crooned and you just locked your car after placing your tools inside... just a few hours of sleep then you'd make the drive home.

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 39/39: Closure

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

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

Ao3

Xxx

“I don’t know about this.”

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

“Do you like him, or no?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” Phoenix and Cyrus asked in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

“Could be. You don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s yours stand for, then?”

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

“Oh, a mystery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

“I’m leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say goodbye to your mom, too, okay?”

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

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

“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

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

“I’ll miss you.”

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

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

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

Jason stuck his tongue out.

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“Will do, ma’am.”

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

Xxx

“I can’t do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

“Hey! Over here!”

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

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

“So you were around a lot of people.”

Where was he going with this? “Yeeessss?”

“Do you know how to plan a party.”

Phoenix stared at him. “What.”

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

“A normal thing,” Phoenix echoed.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I planned social functions.”

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

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

“You, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

“Small party,” Darius commented.

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

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

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

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

“Reconnaissance. We can do that.”

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

Xxx

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think it’ll help long-term?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something normal.”

“What’s that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you tell Sam you were leaving?”

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

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

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

“That’s all I ask.”

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

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

“Hopefully.”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

“Careful, you sound like Dad.”

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’ll let you anyway.”

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

“Well, why do you want to leave?”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

“Awkward?”

“Yes.”

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

“They’re busy right now.”

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

“Not for long.”

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Achsah’s room?”

Caleb froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, he needs a second by himself.”

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

“Don’t get what?”

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

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

“Really? That’s it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charming?”

“…upbeat,” Phoenix finished.

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

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

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

“You seem… chipper,” Phoenix said cautiously.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

“I don’t think I ever could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy the spoils.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump.

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

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

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

This is bad.

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

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

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

“Who feels like a seed race?”

“What’s that?” someone called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caleb sighed, joining Evelyn and Steven.

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

“Wish it was less of one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Where are we going?”

“Answer-hunting.”

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

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

“Be my guest.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. I’ll try not to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you are.”

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

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We knew that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Mom, they need you here.”

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

“I won’t be gone for long. Promise.”

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Without hesitation.”

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

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

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

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

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

“They’ll be fine. Just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

“Oop—watch the root—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, open them,” Jason ordered.

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

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

“Is that… palistrom?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell us what?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you want one?” Jason asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’ll find a way to make it work.

Xxx

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?”

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

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

“Oh. Right.”

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

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

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

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

“Low and slow,” Hunter promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creak.

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

“Petro?” he called, just in case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I think I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

[sadcambion]

They'll be all you remember.

Raphaël x f!Tav (reader) x Haarlep

TW: Questionable consent (The reader is under substance), rough sex

You were in a large luxurious red four-poster bed. Your mind was fuzzy, you remembered nothing. Your pussy was hot, sore, a warm, creamy substance flowed between your legs.

The little mouse, wanting to outsmart the cat, went to the fox. But the fox was not what he claimed to be.

And whatever you wanted to do when you came here, you seemed to have failed miserably.

You were nothing but a sex-hungry thing, seeking to be defiled. Haarlep’s voice spoke triumphantly, a smirk on the face. He was lying on the bed next to your amorphous form on the bed.

"Well, I wonder what face Raphael will make when he sees his little mouse here, so desperate…"

You don’t know who you are. You don’t know what this place is. You don’t know anything. Haarlep has poisoned your mind, his saliva has a phenomenal effect on you. Your misty eyes faintly rise towards his. You’ve been used so much in the last few hours...

"Raphael? Who is he?"

The smile of the incubus grows. He seems to delight to see you in this pitiful state.

"You know him pretty well, little mouse."

This nickname awakens something in you, but your mind in limbo is not able to remember … A shiver runs through your spine.

"I do not remember…"

Your body, still trembly , is trying softly to get closer to the incubus. It seems that he was not dead-handed with his aphrodisiac… He stops you, his claws gently sticking into the soft skin of your wrist.

"He’ll be here any second, sweetie, you better keep some for him… he’s very possessive with you, you know."

Another chill runs through your body, you’re so exposed and vulnerable, oozing from Haarlep’s seed. Obviously, you are not aware of the danger, the risks. You’re just a cock-thirsty thing and your body is hot with desire despite your exhaustion. You don’t protest when Haarlep stops you.

Somewhere in your mind you try to remember your name, you also try to remember who Raphael is. But nothing, your head is like an empty shell.

A man arrives, his complexion is tanned, his eyes brown, brown hair, he is dressed richly. He looks at you raising an eyebrow, the rest of his expression was indecipherable when seeing you in this bed, naked with his incubus, completely ravaged. He approaches, his calm steps betrayed no emotions. He looks at Haarlep, his eyes fixed on you.

"What’s she doing here?"

He was looking at you, his eyes slightly surprised masked by his neutral expression. This thing… It wasn’t Tav, it wasn’t you.

Haarlep is smirking as you look at the two men, you are lost in the wave in your spirit.

"Our little thief seems to have failed..."

He frowns. Of course, what else would you do here? You had nothing to do here. He is both mad with rage when hearing that you had come to him to steal his hammer and also mad with rage that you fell into the claws of Haarlep. Nevertheless, he will use this to his advantage. He looks at you, you perceive a mad anger in his eyes but also regret. You do not understand. Who is this man? Why is he looking at you like this? Raphael speaks slowly, calmly, despite the rage that is boiling in him.

"I never thought you’d fall so low, Tav."

"I don’t understand, what have I done?"

You look up at the man, seemingly indifferent to being naked in front of him, full of incubus sperm. Haarlep observes in silence, contemplating your rather wide hips and your bouncy buttocks. 

You don’t remember anything, but something in your mind, something far away screams to you that this situation is not normal, that you shouldn’t like it. Raphael look hardly Haarlep.

"Why did you drug her?"

Haarlep smiles, it’s a bit provocative considering the sharp look of Raphael. The incubus sigh before leaning towards you, his lips hovering over yours.

"Master... isn’t it better when she’s totally malleable? So eager..."

He speaks softly, his voice being lewd. He crushes his lips on yours, all in front of his master. It makes its tongue penetrate into your mouth, its saliva sending you again tingling in the lower abdomen. You kiss him greedily, lost in the throes of pleasure. He drugs you a little more every second of the kiss... His tongue plays with yours.

He finally retreats, before looking at Raphael.

"See? Isn’t that better? She wants more..."

Raphael looks at the contemptuous creature who has just kissed his little mouse while undressing gently. It is clear that his intentions are just as sinful as those of Haarlep. You feel like you’re going crazy wet when you see that man you can’t remember, naked. The devil smiles wickedly looking at your quivering body of desir. You have nothing of that woman he respected. You just looked like a whore.

It takes its shape of cambion before your misty eyes, empty of all emotion, except excitement. He climbs on the bed, his hands touching your throat and breasts. Your red nipples have been hard for so long. Raphael seems to think at something.

"Mh.. When she is fully conscious, she will face her actions. But while waiting..."

He smiled ominously, his two hands pressing your breasts as you begin to moan, they were sensitive and painful because of the many solicitations of Haarlep.

"While waiting why not enjoy what I have at hand... That’s the least you can do, isn’t it, little mouse?"

Again this nickname... But you are too in the mist to raise the threat of his words. You don’t remember him, but he seems less fun than Haarlep. He seems more sneaky, more sinister. More... Diabolical.

Once again, your mind is screaming that nothing like this is normal.

"I did nothing. No?"

He laughs insidiously before turning you on your stomach, your soft body can do nothing to prevent it, and anyway you don’t want it, you want it, you want to be soiled by his demonic sperm, you want to feel his cock spread yours walls to their limits. He raises your hips, your ass in the air, fully exposed. Your pussy drips on the sheets.

"Oh, trust me, when I’m done having fun with you, you’ll remember..."

At the same time Haarlep who obviously hasn’t had enough of you is kneeling in front of your face, his length again hard, proudly erect.

Raphael positions himself behind you, the tip of his sex against your hole already mistreated and degoulinant of your juice and that of the incubus. You moan weakly at the sensation, Words try to come out of your mouth but Haarlep does not wait and pushes his cock in, making you silent.

You tighten the sheets under you, on your knees. Raphael also seems to be tired of being patient and he enters you in a hard and deep push by seizing your hips. Most of your screams are muffled against the cock of the incubus and unlike Raphael’s sloppy and angry blows, Haarlep is sweeter, at least, as much as he can be.

You feel the hard length of the devil entering deep within you. Your walls already dirty and already irritated because of the previous assaults tighten as a protest but given your muffled moaning and your buttocks which rise even more to allow him to take you deeply, it is clear that you want that. Your empty, drugged mind wants this. 

It violently hits your cervix and you almost bite Haarlep, the sensation makes you crazy. You can hear the cambion giggling behind you as the incubus grabs your hair hard, pumping his cock further down your throat. Haarlep speaks softly, between some moaning.

"Don’t bite, keep being a good girl for me..."

At the same time, the devil whose wings cast a sinister shadow on your naked and mistreated body plunders you relentlessly, hitting your collar to hurt you. It’s too deep, too strong, and you can smell it despite Haarlep’s aphrodisiac saliva.

The incubus holds your hair firmly and a trickle of saliva flows down your chin.

In the midst of the two evil creatures, you look like a wreck.

Your body trembles and almost begins to convulse, you can no longer, your body is hot. You are overstimulated on all sides and struggling.. And yet you still want it. Your hand slips between your legs to start rubbing your clitoris. Raphael firmly grasps your wrist, stopping you as you feel his cock throbbing in your warm walls, it is still against your cervix...

"You are really insatiable..."

He forcefully tightens your wrist with one hand and you feel that it will leave you bruises. At the sight of Haarlep’s soft moaning he also seems close, the tip of her sex rubbing your throat. Your throat hurts you. Your pussy too. You hear Raphael panting from time to time.

You feel them filling you simultaneously. Raphael’s burning seed was landing directly in your womb already so full because of Haarlep. Your orgasm strikes at the same time, imprisoning his cock in you, tears of pleasure bead at the corner of your eyes and Haarlep firmly holds your head, forcing you to swallow his precious seed while he ends up grunting.

Haarlep retreats, his body still quivering slightly while Raphael remains anchored deep inside you. His clawed hand goes through your messy hair, almost affectionately despite the circumstances and his hoarse voice is full of dark promises, you will not get away with it.

"Enjoy my dear, the rest will not be as pleasant..."

No, you shouldn’t like it, it’s wrong, so wrong, and yet... you find yourself wanting to be the whore of the devil and Haarlep.

[puppyeared]

i like him

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[thatmintleaf]

I put this under a reply some time ago but I think it deserves a post of its own

Renheng apparently has matching ornaments but the thing doesn't stop there. An adventure mission exists, giving a little bit more of context and a very big teeny tiny hint on why Dan Heng could have the jade piece matching Blade's one. (The reason he HAS it. Not why he KEEPS it. Although they could be related)

Spoilers ahead for the adventure mission "Poetic Genius Ingenium" and mentions of ver 1.2 trailblazing mission

In the quest we end up helping a vidyadhara named Cong to conquere the heart of the girl he likes. During the quest we find out he kind of remembers her from his past lives (apparently they've been togheterh for at least three reincarnations) and every time he somehow feels for her the same as he did before the rebirth cycle.

At some point this text conversation happens

Assuming this guy is as old as Dan Heng, it would mean sometime in the past, when Dan Feng was assumingly still around, gifting a padlock/piece of interlocking jewellery to your loved one was common practice and also a quite romantic one.

BUT it does not end here, as later on we get this piece of dialogue

Sooo Dan Feng purposely kept his piece to remember [Redacted] after his rebirth

[inkybinkyboink]

sometimes, i'll knit something super ugly, and i mean like really ugly just to get rid of scrap yarn, yknow? and i kind of worry no one will find any use for it but then it's like, no, statistically, someone will make use of it. there's so many people with so many different tastes in style that it feels virtually impossible for this thing that im making not to fall into the right hands. my theatre prof gave me a bag full of yarn that she wasn't using anymore and in the bag there was the start of, what i found to be, the worst scarf i've ever seen, and i unraveled it and organized all the yarn and i thought it would be funny to knit all her yarn into one big giant long scarf. wouldn't you know, the scarf is ugly, and i started to get worried again that no one would like it, but then i remember that the yarn was going to be made into something not conventionally fashionable anyways, except it wasn't unconventional because my professor was using that yarn anyways before giving it to me. she liked it. my point is, you should be allowed to make stuff for the sake of making stuff and getting pride out of the thing that you made because you know that it has to be cool for someone else, and you made it. you can take pride in knowing you made this really cool thing for someone you might not even know.