#all the nice ones went to Blue Sky and Threads

[ellinights]

XAVIER: LET LOOSE (M)

Now, the way one of the sleeves of Xavier’s robe is slightly drooped down, it reveals his very muscular arm and the soft pale supple skin you adore. Your eyes shamelessly rakes through the sight, his ribbon is tied loosely so his chest would be on display. Xavier is already slightly flushed, soft crimsons of red slightly daint throughout his skin.

Or, Xavier and you are seeing who tugs the string first, after the night of sensory test. 

fandom: Love and deepspace.

pairing: you (afab) & shen xinghui/xavier.

tags: nsfw, smut, rated explicit, 6k words, mdni.

additional tags: kissing, making out, penetrative, unprotected sex (wear ur condoms pls), hickies, teasing, creampie. honestly this is full on porn and smut no plot so enjoy the filth.

disclaimer: The content below is purely fictional, All content is also 100% my work, DO NOT copy/plagiarize my writings.

AO3: link

“What are you doing?” 

The familiar soft ring of his voice drums through your ears, sending slight shivers down your spine. However, within the gentle whisper rupturing from the other male’s throat, there is something swirling in his words, something suggestive. 

Your head turns slightly to his direction, eyes gazing towards him intently. Something else is definitely in the air, because holy.

The days after the mission you and Xavier shared to investigate on protocore fragments were in high rise, tension fills the air between you both the day after the sensory ‘test’. A loose thread hanging by slim, ready to snap any moment but it is still holding strong. You know yourself, and Xavier too, that night was not enough. The desire to go again, to take each other in bed, and to be devoted to each other without hiding it under a lame excuse such as a ‘sensory test’, is so potent. 

Mind flashing back to that night, it plays in your mind like a broken record. Each time you remembered how your delicate fingertips gently traced along his hot skin, down to his neck. Hearing Xavier’s soft hitches of his breaths, the way his pretty sky-blue eyes rolled over the back of his head each time your warm breath fanned over his skin when you marked over his collarbone. Oh you want to see him in that state again. 

But also a state where he was going wild, showing no mercy as he rammed into your insides while sending you on edge, a sight to die for. The restraints that were holding him all these times you knew him, were not seen once he took you in the cold bed of that hotel. It was a hot view to behold, his ragged breaths with hushed whispers how he was going to ruin you sent shivers down your spine. 

You are greedy, for more.

And now, Xavier is still here. The usual, composed demeanor set across as he is sitting beside you, hands place nicely over his lap as he perches over your shoulder trying to look at what you are browsing on your phone on the living room couch. 

What you were not expecting to see though, is what choice of clothing he decided to pick, again. 

The view right beside you is Xavier wearing a bathrobe, nothing out of abnormality but the way he is wearing is alluring. You knew he was doing this on purpose, wanting you to break the string of patience instead of him. 

Someone with a lot of pride in their patience huh? 

Another observation you realized after the ‘test’ was how Xavier was wearing bathrobes more often now when he is home. Sometimes, he would wear it over his pajamas during nippy weather, and at other times, like this. He would wear it without anything underneath, allowing the outline shape of his cock to protrude over the silky fabric. Ribbons tie very loose, so loose that sometimes ‘accidents’ where his cock would slip over the middle slit of his robe, a little ‘surprise’ for you. 

Oh the sneaky man you are, Xavier. 

You were in disbelief, it went on for days, leading on till today. And it only elevates from there. Now, the way one of the sleeves of Xavier’s robe is slightly drooped down, it reveals his very muscular arm and the soft pale supple skin you adore. Your eyes shamelessly rakes through the sight, his ribbon is tied loosely so his chest would be on display. Xavier is already slightly flushed, soft crimsons of red slightly daint throughout his skin. 

And behold, his cock slips out again, this time it is hard, red and leaky. Xavier is already needy, you chuckled inwardly at that. One thing never fails to surprise you on Xavier, he gets hard so easily, could get turned on within moments. 

Your eyes flick back up to now see his oh so pretty face. The same flush over his body brushes over his face, accentuating the beauty of Xavier’s visage. The red compliments the little faint freckles over his cheeks, the red makes the blue of his eyes gleam brighter under the soft lightning in the room, the red mostly matches with the color of his red, rosy lips that you want to smooch it over and over. Your imagination takes afloat, imagining a pair of fluffy bunny ears on top of his head with the sight of this. Cute. 

He is so beautiful, Xavier is so beautiful. 

The lack of response coming from your part made Xavier scoot closer again, his breath fanning over your neck as he asks again. “What are you searching for?” Xavier asks nicely, like a good boy, sounding so obedient. You shiver again. 

“Some sheet masks.” You answer, with a slight stutter as you feel his breath again, goosebumps spreading over your skin. Xavier hums as a response, and what he did next is not what you expected. 

Before you know it, Xavier’s strong pair of arms holds your waist and swoops you over to have you sit on his lap. You hear yourself let out a soft yelp, eyes widen slightly in surprise. Now, you snug over him, you could feel the tip of his cock perching your behind as he rest his chin over your shoulder. 

“Hm? Again? You still have some left in my fridge.” Xavier mutters softly, nuzzling himself over as he gently closes his eyes. Your brain feels fuzzy for a bit, malfunctioning even at the bare minimum of what the other man is doing. You were wrapped around his finger a little more tightly than you thought. 

Adjusting yourself on Xavier’s lap as you shift against his strong, muscular thighs, a deep breath is drawn within the confinements of your chest. Your mouth is not cooperating with your thoughts, wanting to tell him that stocking them up would not be a bad idea since he is using it as well. But nothing is coming out. 

Xavier does not wait, instead he dives in. Diving into the crook of your neck, his lips ghost over the side. It hovers there, tiers brushing at every little shift you do on his lap. Goosebumps again form all over your skin, shivering at the soft intimacy shared. 

“Xav..? What-" 

Sentence goes unsaid, Xavier���s lips attach against your hot skin. His sweet, soft pairs gently roam around a small patch of your neck, spreading soft kisses over. As if he is writing pretty love notes in the form of hickies, he takes a small nibble on the centre, earning a soft groan erupting within the depths of your throat. Your pretty lips part, panting heavily over the ministrations done, encouraging the male to mark more. 

“X-Xav What are you doing?” you finally ask, in between your soft huffs. Xavier on the other hand, just hums. 

“Shh, nothing.” Xavier only replies with that, mouth busy. Despite the short reply, he sounded breathless, desperate, and needy. 

Squirming against Xavier’s lap, your hands clutch onto his larger hands around your waist, back fully lean against his chest. With his position, he rubs himself against. Vibrations spread through your skin, hearing his groan muffling at the release of pleasure done puts Xavier on edge. 

The moment you have been waiting for, the string finally snaps. In a swift move, your body turns and quickly places yourself over his lap, thighs straddling on each side of Xavier’s legs. The other male could look at you dumbfoundedly, however from the looks of it he is already spent. Lips parted, eyes hazy, body yearning to dive back in and indulge into you again. This causes you to emit a small chuckle to flow through your lips, before your arms find its way to settle right around his broad shoulders. 

“Finally, someone snapped.” you let out a teasing remark while you move closer to Xavier. Mouth millimeters apart, lips brushing ever so slightly if anyone moves. Xavier could only grumble, eyes shifting away from yours to look at your tiers. 

“Do not tease me now-” 

“I didn’t know someone as composed as you would snap the strings first in a situation like this. You thought I would break in first.”

“Enough-” 

“Oh what happened to the cool and composed Xavier hu-” 

Words did not reap out of your throat anymore, as something plush and soft pressing upon. Little to your surprise Xavier’s lips find a way to yours, a way to keep your mouth shut. His lips did not move as gently as he is used to, the sweet princely-like man you know is gone. Chasing for a taste of your sweet ones, his lips trapping your lower lip between to give a good suck before pulling away. Continuing, his mouth maps along your lips as his self control slips. 

Xavier’s hands move from his sides to cup over your cheeks. Holding them still, his control is dominating, relishing you while his hands slip down further to explore every expanse of you. Contrary to before, Xavier has a sense of familiarity now. The night in the hotel, his hands were still timid and shy at times. Now, not an ounce of fear shows. The male’s palms move freely, with no shame. The way his dainty fingers brush against the wide of your back as it slowly trails down in a tranquilizing manner. Trailing back up to touch the height of your neck, fingers brushing teasingly there earning a soft shiver from you. 

Not wanting to back down, your hands also move boldly. Taking the advantage of his loose robe to gently caress the exposed part of his shoulder to which caused a response from the other male. A soft, sweet gasp shared between you and his lips as his skin shivers. You push away the fabric, letting Xavier’s robe slip down to gather around his waist, so as the both of you, lips slipping away while heavy, breathless pants filling the room.

“How could you restrain yourself like this?” Xavier is the first one to break the silence, words mix in between his irregular breaths. You could not find the words to reply, still catching your breath but also your mind is occupied with wanting to see the man in front of you wrecked and done for tonight. 

All thoughts poof away when Xavier’s head thumps against the front of your shoulder, nuzzling there like a little kitty. The imagery in front of you, as if he is screaming for your attention. Seconds after, his head turns up slightly to look at you. Nothing else reflects within the irises of his pretty blue orbs other than need.  

“I am mad at you.” the words lays heavy upon the silvered hair male’s tongue, but he does not let you ask why before he continues. “Day after day, tried to gain your attention. Didn’t even notice what I have been wearing for you, wanting to look good for you, didn’t even acknowledge it.” Xavier says, grumbling his way out. Despite the sexual air still standing in between you two, the sight beneath you is too endearing to ignore

Until his lips find his way to your neck again, he presses his lips at the centre firmly. Once more, a soft yelp escapes past your mouth, hairs standing everywhere. Tongue dipping out, he licks a small part, his possessive tendencies shining through to claim you. As if Xavier’s mind reads the endearment you have for him, he wants it gone. He parts away after, brows furrowed in disbelief. 

“Still think it's funny?” Xavier breathes in sharply through his nose and before you know it his arms hook under your arms and knees, standing up while carrying you away to the shared bedroom. He is not discreet with his annoyance, throwing you on the bed with no care before he climbs on top of you. His bigger figure hovers over yours, his expression still agitated before he speaks. 

The room is quiet again, as yours and his breaths become one. Knowing from the judgments of your observations, Xavier is thinking of what to say. How to break his silence. Clearly his plan backfired, and it seems to be a bigger deal than what you thought it would be. It is when you try to make the first move he cuts it away. 

“Xav I did notice you were wearing that and I-” 

“After that day, my mind could only repeat one thing. The way I took you under me, to please you. Need that so much, I want you again." This time, there are no hints of aggravation lacing through Xavier’s voice. Only desperation, as his face contours with want. 

“Yeah, I broke my composure once more. But trying to seduce you over and over backfired. So let me ask you directly then.” Xavier then leans closer, faces so close just like how they were on the couch. 

“Please, let me have you again. Please.” He begs, eyes gazing right through you like a lost puppy wanting its owner’s approval.

How could you say no? 

In response, you give a soft peck his lips with the distance, giggling in between before pulling away. Xavier in return, hums softly at the shared kisses, lips puckering to return each and every one of them to you. 

“You didn’t need to seduce me in any way just to get what you want. I’ll always say yes, for you.” Your heart blooms with the way Xavier’s face lights up. Soft flicks of light particles glide through the air, you already know how his heart is feeling. 

“But.” You then slowly sit up, causing Xavier to back away a bit. Confused, his head tilts to the side before your hands find its way to his so you could guide them to touch your waist. Leaning in closer to whisper against his ear, just like how you did in the hotel to call his name but this time you give an order. 

“Help me take off my clothes. It is not fair that you are the only one naked. Right?” Your soft snicker rings past his ear, something stirs within him. Without wasting time, his hand starts working quickly. Fingers holding onto the hem of your shirt he pulls it over your head. Next, hooking onto the waistband of your pants, he tugs it down along with your underwear leaving you bare from waist down. Lastly, Xavier’s hand behind your back unclasps the garment holding your bosoms, letting it fall against the bed. 

With the both of you on the same page, while you can only focus on how the air strikes, coldness gently grazes against your skin creating an uncomfortable feeling, Xavier’s mind is elsewhere. His eyes follow through your figure attentively. The soft curves, small details of your skin from moles to freckles. The height of your breast, nipples perked up from the chilly air, Xavier thinks you presenting yourself bare and naked, is the most majestic sight he has ever seen. No art, no expensive painting could replicate such beauty you embody. 

Finally, the core in between your legs. Xavier’s eyes flutter down, seeing the pink plushed sweetness that he wants to devour so much. If he could spend his time there endlessly, in suffocation he would. On the other hand, with you noticing his long stare, your legs squeeze shut in response out of sheepishness. 

“No-” Xavier shakes his head in disapproval, his hand reaches over to your knees to hold them in place. He stops there for awhile, eyes flicking back to yours before he moves your knees apart to spread your legs away. 

“Let me see your pretty princess parts, spread your legs and keep it open for me.” He gently instructs, hand caressing through your leg up and down. You could not help but to burn the moment his skin touches yours, let alone what he is about to do next. 

It is something about the way Xavier looks at you wherever, butterflies fluttering against the pit of your stomach. You could almost feel wetness pooling around your hole the moment he looks at you as he lowers himself down. That tantalizing look of his, a rare sight to see from a composed man, and knowing you are the only one who gets to see this state of hunger from him is arousing to say the least. 

Once Xavier’s face is out of sight, he is facing directly against your crotch area. Staring intently in between the core nestling between, hunger takes over as he sees the view, the outer lips wet and slicked from your own sweetness. Satisfaction washed over as he hums, the thought of having all of this to himself appeals to Xavier so well. Without warning, he gives a small blow towards the centre of your cunt, causing you to shiver and involuntarily narrow the gap of your legs.

“Keep them apart, my love.” Xavier’s firm hands hold onto your thighs and keep them apart again. His eyes meet with yours once more, with a look of warning plastering all over his face. Adding the endearment at the end did not take away his authoritative tone, but it turns you on slightly with his duality. Nodding your head, you oblige. 

Diving back in, he does not waste time. He indulges, lips placing soft kisses over the expanse of your wet lips. Sucking every sweet nectar dripping out of you, he takes it in willingly. Almost drowning in his own pleasure of your taste, he lets out a soft moan against your hole causing a vibration. A moan erupts within your throat, responding to his administration. 

“Fuck Xa-” Words leave hanging, once Xavier’s lips attach against your clit to give a gentle good suck. The small bundle of nerves, sparks signals of pleasure all over your body. Your head throws to the back of the bed, eyes rolling back slightly as your hands grab onto the rumpled sheets beneath you. You moan wantonly, feeling too good from the continuous stimulation there. 

Xavier keeps his palms busy, roaming along the soft supple skin of your thighs. Lips leaving your clit to press kisses over said skin, his slender digits ghost softly over your wet core. Your breath hitches, feeling its presence coming close. However, he never touches, only hovering the spot. Only soft grazes between the pad of his fingers and your cunt. A whine escapes within you, hips moving forward to try and take him in. 

“Mhm- Patience, baby.” Xavier warns again, halting his movements as he pulls away again. Taking over control, his arms hook under each side of your knees to manhandle you close so your hips elevate slightly from the bed. His face on par with your cunt again, this time his tongue does the action. Lapping all over every part he could touch, dipping into the entrance in short intervals as a tease before he repeats everything again and again. 

Seemingly a scheme to punish from so called disobeying him, his teases are relentless. Xavier goes on and on, poking but not completely devouring you just yet. Your patience is running thin, whines getting desperate and loud. While Xavier takes it as entertainment, it is hell for you. Whatever teasing he did back in the hotel room nights ago, is nothing compared to this. 

“Ah- Xav don’t play with me right now-” 

“You couldn’t keep yourself still for me when I told you to, baby.” the name of endearment again, sparks flushes against your skin. Remembering how it affected you when he first called you that, almost coming to his sweet, sultry seduction wrapped in the word “baby”. You know he is using it to his advantage, as if he is trying to rile you up, to set the levels fair as his. 

It is almost ridiculous.

“You still can’t let go of that huh? Need to tease me right haah- now? I told you I didn’t mind-” the next thing Xavier does, almost sends you to the edge. Without any notice, his tongue dips further into the canal. Almost imitating the feeling of filling you up, your moans peek up into a high pitch. Back arching away from the mattress, your lips could not contain the soft chants of his name from slipping away. 

“Oh- yes please. Don’t stop Xav please- Need more.” You beg like a mantra, more moans filling in the air. With how your words act as a trance for Xavier to obey, he gives in and dips his warm muscle further. He gives a soft flick, tickling the inside of your walls. This causes you to squirm, the continuous attention given now feels too much, a familiar pool rippling against your lower abdomen. 

“A-Ah I’m- Fuck Xavier I’m gonna..” The pool gets even more intense, the peak is getting there.

And suddenly, everything stops. 

You knew even after your explanation, the man in front of you can get sulky, especially when things do not go his way. You knew Xavier was slightly bumped on his wasted efforts. Which you have guessed why earlier he was edging you out. 

But it backfired him again, as he came while he does so. 

The walls within you constrict, trying to search for something to suck and squeeze on but alas, nothing it could find to replicate the feeling. As a result, Xavier pulls away and before you could get mad over him trying to tease your waters today, all thoughts vanish away from the sight of the male in front of you. Eyes droopy, face flushed with embarrassment, his soft strands sticking against his sweaty forehead. His lips cover with a small sheen of you as it trails down to his chin, his soft breaths kills the eerie silence of the space. But what shocks you the most is as your eyes rake down further, is the sight of his cock. 

The sheets beneath stains with his release, his cock spent as remains of his come smears along the underside. The tip, a mix of his precum and his seed settles atop. It is such a messy sight to behold, gaining amusement from how hard he still is. 

Suddenly, the male grunts, head drooping down as if he is in shame. Your head tilts, slightly confused before you hear him speak. 

“Can’t believe I just cummed at eating you out.” Xavier says in disbelief, groaning softly while he covers his face with his hand. This earns a loud laugh from you, before closing the gap between you and him as you pull him into an embrace. 

“You silly, don’t be embarrassed about it.” Soft reassurance comes out from your tiers, your hand comes up to smooth down the back of his head. You further add on. “Besides, it is quite hot to know you get turned on easily like this, Xavier.” The way you said his name, exactly the way you said it in the same low whisper at the cramped bed of that night. Something ignites in Xavier, as the way his body tenses after that while his cock twitching did not go unnoticed. 

Chuckling softly, you pull away from the embrace, and slowly lower yourself. You did it in a way that is painful, agonizing as you put on a show for him to see. The way the curve of your back promenades even more in this position, the perk of your ass showing through the back but most importantly, you keeping an eye on him without breaking contact. 

In his mind, Xavier thinks he could come again with this sight of you.

Without much thought, only mind full of him, your hand reaches out to take ahold of his cock. Helping it to direct to your mouth, your lips gently circle around his tip. Eyelashes batting bashfully, you maintain contact with him as you part your lips away. 

“Sorry, I’ll focus on my boy from now on. Your advances, whether it's to seduce me or just to gain my attention. I’ll focus on you, yeah?” You ‘apologise’. Xavier on the other hand, shivers. His hips move forward spontaneously, still sensitive from his high earlier on. 

“As a way to make it up, let me help you clean you up.” You offer, darting your tongue out to gently clean the underside of his cock. Your motions cause Xaiver to huff heavily, breath fanning softly as his chest rises up and down erratically. 

“I forgive you. Ah..!”

At that moment, your lips take his tip again but also slowly swallow his cock wholly. Only using the reason for cleaning up as an excuse, your motive lies bare right in front of him. The sounds you want to hear the most, the same old but beautiful moans of the male. Soft, light, airy. The sounds bless your ears, as your head starts to bob up and down to extract more of your blessing. 

“S-Shit. Not too fast, please..” Xavier warns, eyes closing to immerse himself into the pleasure. One of your hands starts to caress the front of his body, from his strong thighs that are earned from centuries of wielding a sword, to his prominent abdominal muscles that reflect the same strength of his endurance to be the best of the best. 

You choose to hear him, plopping away from his cock but replacing it with your hand from his abs earlier. Wrapping around them, you give a soft stroke for starters. Thumb pressing against the slit, beads of precum ooze out from him making your strokes less frictious. The pleasure intensifies, his soft moans start to irregulate. Turning into short grunts, he whispers hushed pleads due to his greed. 

“B-baby.. Yeah, just like that. Go faster.” He requests, his own hips moving as if it has its own mind, forward and thrusting into your hand. Obeying his words, your wrist flicks and the speed increases. Pacing the strokes short and fast, your eyes keep glue onto every shift of his expression of reaching his ecstasy. 

“A-Ah.. Doing so good, baby. Keep going.” Xavier encourages, while one of his hands reaches to gently comb away your long strands covering your face. The praises send through your pussy, juices dripping out down to your thigh. Keeping the pace, your tongue peeks out to give kittish licks over and over through the slit. And there, you hear a sharp cry, Xavier’s hips jerk forward from the stimulation of his cock. 

You keep it steady there, ready to capture his precious seed anytime he is about to burst- 

His hand then stops your motions, holding onto your wrist tightly. You on the other hand, despite following and stopping for him, your face has a look of confusion. Swiftly, he moves you down to lay you back again on the bed and he crawls on top of you. The familiar position from earlier on again, this time his cock poking at your entrance. 

“Can’t take it anymore.” Xavier says shakily, his cock spreading along your folds, flicking against your clit. You choke out a moan, the sudden pleasure running through you visits again after the denial of orgasm earlier, heightening your sensitivity. 

“Need to fuck you now. Can I, baby? Please?” He asks, almost sounding like he is going to cry if he is given a rejection to his plea. 

There is no absolute way ‘no’ is an answer, the moment you have wanted for so long after that night lays upon you. And so you nod eagerly, hand reaching down to grab onto his cock to angle it properly against your hole. 

“Yes, please do. Fuck me like you mean it, Xav. Need you to fuck me harder than that night.” As blunt as those words you speak, your actions mirror the same. Tugging onto him without a care in the world, needing to have Xavier again, filling you up and completing each other as one. 

The way your words transcend to him, his orbs darken. With one push, he thrust in slowly fulfilling your orders. Slowly, he begins to accommodate your velvety walls, stretching them apart, ends of Xavier’s hip meets with yours. Once he is fully seated, the both of you moan in unison. Calling each other’s name in bliss, deluge into each other as a call to ending the long awaited tension. 

With that, Xavier’s hips move. 

The first thrust is impactful, pulling out only leaving the tip inside of you, before he slams back down. The push is intense, as Xavier has no room for mercy to be gentle anymore. Not that you mind, the need for the man right in front of you to take you like how he did back in the hotel, hot and steamy, taking you apart till there are no pieces for you to pick up for yourself. 

You broke into soft sobs, as Xavier repeats the motion over and over again each time increasing the impact. You let yourself fall into his hands, your fingers reaching to thread over his soft silver strands before tugging them softly. As a response, Xavier groans at the soft sting against his scalp. 

“Fuck- Fuck Xavier, harder. Faster, ruin me. Don’t hold back.” You coax him out of his shell further, although he is fucking you harder than before you know he still is holding back at the fear of hurting. 

You want him to push your limits, to see how much you can handle him. Whatever Xavier gives, you want it all. To tell him it is okay to let go of his stoic facade at times, with you. And so he did. 

The way he starts pounding mercilessly into your pussy, elicits a scream out from you. The sight you have been looking for now lays upon your eyes. Disheveled, uncontrollable Xavier is in sight. He does not waste time to snuggle his face against the centre of your chests, lips against your plush breast and starts sucking a hickey. 

“God- Mm- You’re pretty like this.. Can’t resist you, baby.” Xavier’s gentle rumble vibrates through your chest. The feathery tone of his voice flutters your heart, the way he is so soft spoken to you despite being in a lewd situation like this reflects on his gentleness which you adore. 

“Your pretty cunt, all for me to ruin hm? Have them wide open for me baby, love seeing you like this.” Air almost knocked out from your lungs, the sudden switch up from gentle to rough piques your senses. There is something you still have a hard time to get used to, behind Xavier's calm appearance, he is a freak. It is not that you are not accustomed to this, in fact, you love it so much from him it riles you up easily. Xavier knows where to use this to his advantage, to mould you into whatever version of you he wants to see

“It’s been awhile since I fucked you haven’t I? You’re so tight, sucking my cock like that.” Another string of obscene words coming out from that man’s filthy mouth, your eyes roll as you can feel soft rushes of pleasure run through your veins just by his words. 

“Then pound into me harder, Xav.” You manage to say, not submitting down. “Tear me apart, or you can’t anymore?” Deciding to test out the waters, your lips curl up into a smirk as you tease him for a bit. Perhaps it was the way he edged you moments before, that you wanted to take revenge. 

Or the fact that as much as you want him to test your limits, you have your own mind to test his. How much could you get away with? Or how much he can suppress, despite seeing him lose his tranquility earlier on, you wonder if he still has barriers to push.  

And you were absolutely right. There were more layers to him. 

Xavier does not miss a beat or give you the chance to retort further the moment his hips plunges into you further, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly without stopping. The intensity causes the shared bed to creak, bed frame hitting the back of the walls echoing the room. The way his cock opens you apart, sending a satisfying stretch. Knowing tomorrow you would be sore but you couldn't care less, your legs circling around his waist to pull him closer and deeper. 

His walls crumble down even further, his careful nature thrown out of the window.

“Ah ah ah.. Yes right there Xavier that feels so good..” You mutter, more moans coming out of you. Words are starting to go incoherent, not being able to make sentences with your mind full of him and the pleasure building up. 

“Right here?” Xavier asks, almost too innocent, and you know he is mocking you. His tip pressing against your sweet spot accurately, whilst his big eyes stare at you with a hint of playfulness. Your eyes for the nth time, roll to the back at the stimulation. 

Yet, Xavier is not satisfied. With a shift of his hips, his hard on misses your spot on purpose, causing you to lose all senses of pleasure. A loud whimper in protest, your eyes regaining back to his. 

“No- Fuck Xav.. Why-” You are about to lose it, almost peaking but then got denied for the second time is driving you insane. 

“Answer me. Is. it. Here.” Xavier does not sound like he is asking, rather than a command for you to answer him as he repeatedly pounds after each emphasis of the word, missing your spot again. Crying in dissatisfaction, you shake your head.

“No.. It’s not there..” You say quietly, lips softly quivering. 

Xavier plasters almost like a sinister smile, before he moves against his spot. Angling his hips upwards, he rams into you, almost certain he is hitting the spot of nerves you need. The same rush travels through your body again, this time stronger. 

“Then, is it here hm?”

“Fuck..! Yes yes yes there.. That’s the spot.. Don’t stop please..” Not making the same mistake earlier you blabber out words to him, hazy eyes of yours looking as direct to his. Xavier’s smile grows wider. 

“That’s right, my good girl.” Xavier’s voice deepens within the praises, letting out a soft giggle at the state of you. Diligently, he leans away to hold onto each side of your hips, hovering it up so it is lifted slightly. You could feel his cock slip in a greater distance, sending you shock. 

The last straw, he goes all out. Starting off strong, he fucks into you with no mercy. Skin slapping onto one another from how harsh xavier is going, in harmony with the shared moans resounding along the confinements of the shared space. There is no space for you to breathe, as he keeps going, chasing for the peak you two want badly. Xavier’s fingers lay across your clit, placing a little pressure before moving it in circular motions enough for you to jolt at the sensation. Tightness coiling at your stomach, you already know that you are close.

“Gonna cum, baby?” He questions, quickening his motions around your clit. Xavier sees through you, knowing that you are close. A scream breaks through, your eyes close shut while you nod. 

“Mhm yeah shit- Xav.. so close I wanna cum. Let me cum, please..” Your voice breaks, your own hips move forward to press yourself into his fingers while pushing his cock more, brushing onto your g-spot nonstop. 

“Yeah? That bad huh?” The other male asks again, pulling his hand away and focuses back on slamming his cock. His breaths are raggy, a sign that he is also near. 

Xavier leans back down, connecting his lips with yours once more. The kiss did not have any sense of direction, irregular and messy as the focus is somewhere else. Nonetheless, to feel your softness, your taste is still needed, in such a way that he feels like dying if he does not in any moment. 

“Let it go, cum for me baby. Cream on my cock, you can do that right?” Xavier rambles through his words, grunts against your lips. His encouragements guides you easy, the tug on your stomach gets even more intense, it goes on and on until 

“That’s my baby, right there. Let go for me. My precious, sweet girl.” 

Strong waves of your orgasm washes over you, screaming Xavier’s name at the top of your chest that could break windows. Your release rushes through your blood, your back lifting away from the bed as your eyes close shut. He continues to ride your high by pounding into you, the pace does not make any sense, slow to fast or vice versa. He is close. 

“Mhm sorry.. Stay there baby, I’m gonna..” Xavier did not finish his sentence, releasing into you as he fills your pussy up with his hot seed to the brim. He lets out a quiet cry, almost like a whine while moaning your name sweetly against your bruised lips. 

After a few more thrusts, he surrenders. Xavier’s huge frame plops on top of yours. The both of you keep quiet for a while, trying to catch your breaths after your highs. Both bodies, sweaty and warm but you and Xavier could not bother to move as you both grow limp. 

Minutes go by, Xavier uses his remaining strength to lift his head up to look at you. 

The same, usual big eyed gaze comes back into life, as Xavier looks at you with such innocence and a hint of shyness. No matter how many times you both do it, it seems Xavier would always get flustered by the end of it. The image of him back in the hotel after you both were done matches with him now, which leads to you letting out a small laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Xavier asks, red traveling down to his neck as he brows crease deeper. In return, you shake your head. 

“No, it is just how you are always the same. Getting shy after sex.” You point, causing him to groan and hide in between your chest due to embarrassment. But it does not take long, his head lifts up again, chin propping at the centre in between your breasts. 

“Was that..okay?” The question itself causes you to frown, you never understand why Xavier has doubts about himself, when he is the perfect version in her eyes. 

“Perfect, better than the last even.” You comment, earnestly. Xavier, consequently smiles softly at the praise. Assurance is the core of the essence, everything you both do always greets with an affirmation after. It’s the way you both need each other, being each other’s support and uplift on another, instant gratitude washes over you. 

But soon, the softness in his eyes got replaced with a hint of hunger again. Unexpectedly, he pulls out from you, causing you to moan softly at the emptiness, a mix of your juices and his come drips out and pools beneath you. 

Xavier then lays beside you, arms propping behind his head as he looks at you with a smug on his face. 

“How about we ‘test’ it out if we can beat that score of yours. Let’s see if we can do better than this round.” Xavier says without missing a beat, and not to your surprise, your gaze lands on his cock, already hardening at the sight. 

Shrugging, you move to straddle over his lap, come dripping down your thighs. Your pussy sits on top of his erecting cock, sandwiching in between your folds, you both moan together at the touch. “Deal, but this time let me do the work. You’ve worked hard, baby.” The slip of that nickname causes Xavier’s orbs to widen slightly. 

You both are in for a long night.

a/n: this is just pure smut ngl, and yes i still can't get over this card. No restraints, you will always be famous. idk if this is slightly ooc but i wanted xavier to be a mix of a tease, slightly out of his mind but also a loser boy because he is my loser 🙂‍↕️

also, really wanted to write it as ambiguous for the gender of "you" but i am not that great at it so sorry for not being inclusive i will learn further so i could make more inclusive ones next time

thank u for reading

[tiredeg]

People everywhere sense imminent danger all around. They sense that whatever just happened is the beginning of the savagery, not the end. People abandon their vehicles and begin to flee on foot. They exit buildings, run down stairs and out doors. People in subway trains and on busses, in halted elevator cars, work to pry open emergency exits and doors. They crawl, walk, and run for their lives. The most basic human instinct is to survive.—Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario

They’re going to die, probably.  

“It was stupid of us to take the elevator,” Oscar says. 

Carlos manages an eye roll back at him. Oscar’s surprised the motion of his eyeballs doesn’t unbalance him, perched as he is on the railing around the edge of the elevator car, calves straining, reaching his phone up towards the emergency lighting strips. As high as possible, as if he can will the texts out of his phone, force the words out of the frozen elevator, up the shaft and out into the sky, send them floating through the air towards the recipients, soaring past the bombs coming the opposite way. 

Oscar’s no expert but he knows enough Spanish to be able to decipher the glimpses he’s managed of the screen. I will be ok. I love you all. Incongruous against the previous message in the thread, a picture of a scrappy white dog asleep on a couch. Oscar had watched Carlos add a heart react to it not two hours ago when they got back to the hotel after FP2. 

God, two hours ago. One hour and fifty minutes before someone told them to check their phones, before the awful silence as they watched the video. A farmer somewhere in California had put it on Facebook, a mushroom cloud blooming over a power plant. It was shared everywhere, Oscar had watched it with Kim, hunched over Twitter, or X, or whatever. The farmer is probably dead now. Facebook certainly is, anyway.

The bomb hit hundreds of miles away from their hotels in Vegas. Not far enough.

Finally, Carlos hops down, collapsing beside Oscar on the floor of the cab. The wall opposite them is a mirror, floor to ceiling, so Oscar doesn’t have to turn his head. It’s easier this way. 

“I think they have gone through,” Carlos blurts out, like he’d wanted to keep quiet but the words forced their way up his throat. “It has the two grey ticks. I think that means it's gone from my phone but I will not get blue ticks without signal.” 

It takes Oscar a second to catch his drift. There’s no way the messages went through. The signal’s been gone for a few minutes, Oscar reckons, about the same time the elevator stopped. Carlos isn’t an idiot, he must know. Oscar knows. 

“I think that’s right,” Oscar says. “They’ll have signal in Spain still, so they’ll have got it.” 

He feels Carlos sag a little at his words. They’re touching from shoulder to knee, something they wouldn’t have risked this morning. Doesn’t matter now. Probably shouldn’t have mattered at the time. 

“How would you go, if you could choose?” Carlos asks.  

Oscar shrugs. “Dunno, never really thought about it.” 

“Don’t be boring, think about it now.” Carlos shoves into him, puts his body weight behind it, but Oscar’s expecting it, can see him decide in the mirror. He braces himself, doesn’t move. Now they’re tangled. Now he can think. 

“I guess I read this book in school. It was nuclear stuff but not bombs, just radiation, so it was really slow. This one girl took her boyfriend’s good car out for one last drive, then floored it off a cliff in the end. I think I’d like that.” 

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulder proper. If they stay like this too long Oscar won’t be able to feel his arm. Maybe that’s how he’d like to go, let Carlos lean on him limb by limb until he can’t feel anything anymore.  

“He was with her? The boyfriend?” Carlos mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“In the nice car. Was she with her boyfriend?” 

“Oh, well not exactly, he was in a submarine I think, I don’t remember it all. They might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend actually, or maybe they were, I don’t know. They definitely loved each other.” 

“Oh,” Carlos says, “that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. What about you, what way would you go?” 

Oscar watches in the mirror as Carlos looks up at him.  

“I had a different answer but I like yours better, I think.” 

“Copycat. I suppose you can come along.” Oscar shifts, rearranging Carlos’s arms around him. 

“Who would drive?” Carlos asks. 

Oscar wants to be the one who wants to drive. He could take that role, let Carlos hold on as their imaginary car gets closer to the point of no return, make the decision to keep the car pointing forward, his foot to the floor. He could take the wheel, if he had to. 

In the mirror he can see Carlos is still looking at him. He meets his own eyes in the reflection, then lets his head turn, lets himself look for real. 

“I don’t want to drive,” Oscar whispers.

“Okay,” Carlos shrugs, easy. “I’ll do it.” 

The emergency strips go dark. Oscar doesn’t know what that means, why they worked when the power went out or why they’ve stopped now. He’s annoyed at how he expects his eyes to adjust, blinking hard when they don’t as if he can force the nonexistent light into his pupils.  

He can still feel. He’s shaking, he thinks. Carlos’s arms tighten around him, unsteady too. Oscar revises his previous answer, overwhelmingly glad of the elevator; they can’t get lost in here, it’s too small. He doesn’t really know the timeline on these things, maybe it’ll take a day, maybe a few seconds. They’re here for now. 

[mmmerimari]

leading on!reader - "fuck, matt- louis- fuck! rafe!"

The sky bled orange and pink across the horizon, soft streaks of light folding into the darkening blue of the sea. Y/n stood barefoot in the cool sand, arms loosely crossed as the wind teased her hair, carrying the salt of the ocean to her lips. The waves whispered low and steady, each pull of the tide like a breath being held and released.

For once, it was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“Lose something?”

Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet like glass cracking under pressure. She didn’t even look at him at first. She already knew the kind of storm that was about to break.

It wasn’t until her phone dangled in front of her, unlocked and glowing in his hand, that she turned her head. A small, almost amused smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“How’d you do that?” Her voice was playful, like this was just another joke between them.

Rafe’s own smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Cut the bullshit,” he said smoothly, though his gaze flicked back toward the house, where shadows moved behind the wide glass windows. He had an audience to consider family, friends, and anyone who might catch a glimpse of the golden boy being anything but.

Y/n let her arms fall to her sides, her expression unreadable.

“So…” Rafe’s voice lowered, venom threading through the silk. “Who the fuck are Matt and Louis?”

Y/n sighed like someone tired of hearing the same bad joke. She didn’t answer, though, not yet. Instead, she stepped closer, slow and measured, her hands sliding up to rest around his shoulders like they always did when she was trying to settle him down or maybe just playing at affection.

He didn’t flinch, but the muscle in his jaw tightened.

“I went through everything,” Rafe muttered, smile still plastered to his face like a mask. “No Matt. No Louis. You delete their messages, huh? Keep it nice and clean for me?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t fade, even as his words sharpened. She leaned in, close enough that her breath touched his neck. “You’re paranoid,” she whispered, voice almost teasing.

His hand clenched around her phone. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” His tone was soft, but the fury underneath simmered hot. “You don’t accidentally say random guys’ names, one after another unless they matter.” His smile stretched wider, dangerous now. “What, am I just another trophy for you? Something to play with until you get bored and move on?”

Y/n shook her head slowly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “You’re exhausting,” she murmured like it was an inside joke. Her fingers traced lazy patterns at the base of his neck, casual and gentle as none of this mattered.

But it did. Rafe’s grip on her phone tightened.

“You’re a fucking liar,” he hissed through clenched teeth, voice low enough that the ocean nearly swallowed it. “You think I don’t see the way you look at other guys? You think I don’t notice when you’re just a little too friendly?”

Y/n’s laughter was soft, barely more than a breath against his skin. She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes calm, cool, and utterly unaffected.

“It’s none of your business,” she said sweetly like she was indulging him.

That was what pissed him off most. Not the words themselves but the ease with which she said them like none of this touched her. Like all his anger, all his jealousy barely scraped the surface of her indifference.

Rafe’s smile didn’t falter, not with the house in view. But his voice dropped, low and bitter. “I brought you here. Introduced you to my family. And you’re out here acting like none of it means shit.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked toward the house behind him, her smile curling just a little wider, just a little colder. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

His expression darkened, the mask slipping for half a second before he swallowed it back down.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered.

Y/n leaned in, voice soft as silk. “So are you.”

And just like that, the space between them vanished. They stood there, two perfect lies wrapped in each other’s arms, the sunset painting them in gold like they belonged together.

But every second was a loaded gun, and both of them were waiting to pull the trigger first.

[gazlocked]

Miss Me Under The Mistletoe — 1

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: GN! Reader / John 'Soap' MacTavish

𝐱: christmas fluff, banter, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, reader is part of task force 141, sprinkles of scots slang (3.2k words)

next: chapter 2

Day was rapidly falling to night as the winter sun lowered in the clear sky, turning the vast space to a dull blue as the first signs of the afternoon. 

You huddled into your loungewear—a hoodie that had seen better days—as you lowered onto your couch, facing your reflection on the black television screen. Your phone remained pressed to your ear, tuning into the overlapping conversations on the other line before a voice broke through, heavily accented and characteristically optimistic.

“Dinnae tell me you already have plans,” Soap slurred over the background chatter, his smirk audible through the speaker of your cell. “You’re breakin’ m’wee heart.”

It had been a long day of doing nothing; being on leave for the winter holiday meant too much time was granted, allowing you to miss the rush of action that you’d grown accustomed to.

While it was nice to relax your constantly tensed muscles and waste away in the warmth of your bedding, three days of it had proven to become repetitive. A week now, and it was just downright…boring.

Soap, on the other hand, was never one to sit still for too long if his life didn’t depend on it.

Since returning to that cosy flat, he spent each day filling his time with some sort of bonding activity. What started with decorating and gift shopping with cousins and aunts quickly progressed each day into extended relatives coming over to share a meal.

That is why when Soap called just minutes after you’d finished dinner, with an invitation to a last minute holiday kickback at his place, you nearly jumped at the prospect.

With his spare bedroom offered for you to rest for your travels and the promise of booze, it made it all the more enticing.

But again, it was last minute.

“I didn’t say I had plans,” you huffed, deflating against the back cushions of your couch. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

The sound of a boisterous laugh faded as Soap went deeper into his home, creating a mile of space between him and the gathering happening in his dining room.

“But you’ll show. Right?” 

You pondered silently as you twirled a loose thread on your garment, waiting for a dramatic amount of seconds to quell your own elation. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat obnoxiously that you answered. 

“Christ, MacTavish.” A closed smile reflected back at you. “I’ll be there.”

“Bonnie!” he exclaimed with a hearty chuckle. “Pack your best sweater.”

—

After verifying your ticket, Soap had confirmed that the others were for sure going to be of attendance.

Just earlier in the week, your feet dragged along like a zombie puppet on fraying strings. That was if you took the time to get out of bed at all. 

Now, there was a pep in your step knowing that you’d be in the company of people you trusted most. To be with your team in a way that didn’t involve violence, that granted time to sit and revel in each other’s company. 

To see Johnny.

Knowing that the miles between you would be squashed during your weekend stay caused a weight to linger on your chest. 

There would be more than enough time to come clean, you hoped, about the things you left unsaid the last time.

It was all you could think about the rest of the week.

You even braced the chilly air with renewed energy to one of the nearby stores, filing through aisles of seasonally appropriate tops in your hunt for the “best” sweater—and by “best”, Soap had meant “ugliest”—before leaving town. 

On the last day before your departure, you spent the afternoon tidying up your home before leaving it to still over the weekend, heart hammering with anticipation as the time ticked down for you all to be together in one space.

There was no doubt about your excitement in seeing them now, but within that sentiment was an overwhelming note of gratitude:

The holidays wouldn’t be spent alone this year.

—

Three stops, two power naps, and one jet-lagged evening later, you were riding into the sleepy village Soap called home when away from warfare.

Except with Christmas just days away, the village was more than lively as people reunited with loved ones after long travels and too much time apart. 

From your window seat, you could see the foot traffic of last minute shoppers and pub crawlers, couples swinging hands, and red and white pointed hats littering the crowd.

The sun was beginning to set in the early hours of Friday evening as your train pulled into the station. Warmly bulbed street lamps decorated with festive banners and tinsel came to life throughout the village. 

You stood from the thin cushion and grasped the handle of your luggage, carefully pulling it down from the overhead compartment as the wheels screeched to a halt. Wasting no time, you worked toward the nearest exit.

You all but shoved your way down the crowded aisle, sparing the families with children your bleeding excitement as you waited impatiently on bouncing feet to unboard.

The weather was nippier and wet here, where the village was nestled further up north in comparison to the dry cold you traveled from. You fumbled with your coat’s zipper, pulling it up to your chest as the doors slid open.

Through one of the wide, rain speckled windows of the car, you spotted your target bundled amongst the sea of coats and fast moving legs.

Soap stood out of the way of the crowd, remaining close to the station’s concourse like a sentinel. He was swaddled in a pebble grey jacket, a flash of reddening cheeks peeking over the wide fabric of a knitted scarf draped around his chin. His bobble hat was fit snug over his head, plain and actually bobble-less with its hem folded just above thick, dark brows and livid colored eyes.

“Och,” a man scolded as you brushed by, pulling your attention back into the train car. “Watch whar ye're gaein, ya div!" 

He glared over high cheekbones and creased skin; a crotchety old man that looked to be conjured up by Charles Dickens himself. You mumbled a quick apology as you squeezed past his scrutinizing gaze, reigning in your luggage.

The accents are thicker here, you noted as you descended the narrow steps.

Once your feet touched the platform, you were moving just as swiftly as the wind blowing through the passenger station, navigating the crowd with your suitcase rolling close against your side.

Soap leaned against one of the green metal structures, head on a swivel as he tracked the faces unboarding and rushing by, committing them each to a fading memory of not being yours.

“Johnny!” 

You called over the hiss of the train, keeping your eyes on him as you sidestepped a baby buggy. You watched his arms cross over his broad chest as it swelled with a huff, growing increasingly antsy. 

“Soap!”

He perked up then, locking eyes immediately as he turned in the direction of your voice. He slid through the crowd, muttering apologies as he gently patted the shoulders of those he passed until he was standing a foot away from you.

“There you are,” he sighed, catching his breath. After a half beat, he formed a tight embrace as he pulled you into his warmth. A low groan vibrated his chest, rocking back and forth as he gave you a bruising hug. 

“Thought I’d have to hunt the train down if I waited any longer,” he breathed against your ear.

“No need,” you wheezed as he pulled away, holding you at arm’s length with a smile that creased his eyes. You chuckled softly as you took in his appearance. The tip of his nose was pinched by the breeze, his cheeks a faint blush. “Jesus, it’s cold out here.”

“And you’re hardly prepared for it,” his eyes racked up and down as he moved a gloved hand to his neck. 

Soap unwrapped the scarf from his shoulders and replaced it around your own, shoving past your frantic hands as they attempted to stop him. 

“Och, cut it out,” he grumbled, tucking one end of the scarf into your coat before tugging the zipper up. “We’ve got a ten minute walk ahead of us. Can’t let you freeze in that time.”

“It’s not like it’s much warmer back home,” you countered gently, “but…thank you.”

You nuzzled into the warmth of his scarf despite yourself, breathing in the mandarin and cedar wood of his lingering scent with a deep, quiet sigh.

Soap took the handle of your suitcase from your grasp without room to fuss, leading the way through the station.

“Kyle arrives in the morning,” he said once inside the concourse, the train’s bellowing call for passengers now muffled by large wooden doors. “Price and Simon will be here before the party starts.”

You squeezed behind him through a revolving door situated at the front of the station. If not for the last second decision to lean into him, you were sure you’d get stuck between the panel and the threshold. 

“Is there anything you need before the party?” you asked as you steadied yourself.

Greeted again by the breeze licking at your skin, your shoulders tensed up to your ears to keep your face covered behind the scarf, using Soap’s figure in your periphery to guide as your eyes squinted against droplets in the wind.

“Aye,” he muttered as he turned to you. A strong arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his side before you could bump into a seller’s cart. 

“Need you to keep up! Otherwise, y’won’t make it to the damn party.”

The walk from the station to Soap’s tenement was brisk, dampening your garments as the sky started to part for a light rain.

All the while, he identified various points of interest.

There was a corner bar with “the best Rusty Nails he’s ever sipped on”, a stand-alone diner with “bacon rolls that are pure magic”, and a park, which was more of a small nook of trees, that was “perfect for a stroll in the warmer months.”

“Never a dull moment,” he looked over with flashing eyes as he turned a corner. The streets became quieter as you entered the residential area. 

“Knowing you?” you quirked an eyebrow, bumping your elbow into his layer-padded flank. “I couldn’t imagine it.”

—

Inside of Soap’s foyer, your muscles loosened under the warmth pouring from the vents. 

You had followed his lead and stepped out of your boots, tucking them neatly by the front door along with the other shoes left there.

Soap spoke excitedly as he left you in the foyer, hauling your suitcase as if it weighed nothing along with him.

As you took in his home, your eyes followed the display of various decor. Garlands decorated with tiny silver ornaments lined the walls leading deeper into the home. Strings of lights shaped like snowflakes were tacked to the hallway’s ceiling in a cascading fashion, the lights twinkling in a rhythm to make them appear to be falling. Even a sleazy looking toy elf sat perched on an in-built shelf, tucked sneakily behind a picture frame.

The hallway opened up to the sitting room, where a vibrant, green tree covered in blue and silver ornaments stood tall in a corner by the front facing window. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you approached it, fingers brushing the artificial pines as you reached for a handmade ornament the shape of a candy cane. 

‘For: Uncle Foap’ was scrawled across the back of the clay in a thick, black penmanship. You chuckled under your breath, cheeks stinging as your smile widened. 

“You’re all situated in the guest bed,” Soap called out, making you jolt. 

You turned to find him entering the living room empty handed, stripped down from his outerwear to a pullover and jeans, the beanie still low on his head. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked carefully with a feline smile. You stepped back from the Christmas tree, clasping your hands behind your back with feigned innocence. 

You shrugged lazily. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all…Foap.”

“Christ alive,” he groaned, rubbing at the back of his neck. “My niecey made it for me last year. She’s called me ‘Foap’ her whole life. Don’t have the heart to correct her.”

“It’s cute,” you chuckled, looking back at the tree. He watched as you caressed another ornament, clay made as well but shaped like a gingerbread cookie.

Soap opened his mouth to speak, but catching that smile you threw over your shoulder melted the words before they took shape. He blew a defiant breath through his nose and smiled instead.

“Here,” he held out a hand, fingers curling jerkily into his palm with a gesture. “Lemme take your coat.”

You hummed, remembering that the heavy garment was still on you in the first place. The added warmth seeping through your bones was so comforting you had forgotten to hang it up after coming in. You gave him a wary look as you shrugged it off, watching as loose droplets of water fell to the carpet.

“Sorry for tracking in the rain,” you mumbled, looking down at the floor as you handed the coat over. Soap shook his head, folding the garment over his arm.

“Not a problem. I will be needin’ that scarf back sometime.” Instinctively, you reached up to brush your fingers over the knit, tracing a line of yarn as it weaved in and out of itself with delicate craftsmanship. “Looks good on you, though.”

His smile curved into a smirk as he turned to the foyer, leaving your face warming under the glow of Christmas lights.

—

“You’re not tired of having company?”

Your lips kissed the edge of a mug, testing the hot chocolate Soap brewed after a dinner of leftovers. Cousin Blair’s pot roast paired with a fresh veggie casserole had your body warmed and stomach full, but there would always be room for a sweet helping of hot cocoa.

All the talk of his family made you question just how much time Soap had to himself since being on holiday; you couldn’t imagine that it was a lot.

“Bored with me already?” he called out from the kitchen. A metal spoon bumped and clanged against the inside of his mug as he stirred the cream in his drink to perfection. 

You rolled your eyes, sure that they’d be stuck before you could make it back home. “No. You’ve just been hosting all week.”

“Ah,” he appeared under the archway connecting the living room and kitchen. Soap brought the mug to his lips, paused, then lowered it again. “The fun’s only gettin’ started.”

You watched him step in front of the couch you occupied and squat down with a low grunt. The cushions dipped with his weight, absorbing him in its thick, pillowy glory. Steam ghosted against his cheeks when he raised the mug, yet he didn’t flinch as he took sips of the scalding liquid.

“Excited for tomorrow, then?” he asked against the rim. 

“Very,” you grinned, shifting in your seat to face him. Soap leaned further into the couch, resting an arm over the back edge. “It’s nice for us to just have time, you know?”

Tensions began to run high as covert operations bled into one another, keeping you wound up like a springlock trap ready to engage. 

Everyone’s specialties were needed at different locations, causing the team to spread out across the globe. This only dragged the time between seeing each other.

Fall turned to winter in the blink of an eye, and before anyone knew, it had been months since the task force had last been whole. 

Soap nodded once with the faintest smile.

“I know. I’m…” he paused, thumb tapping against the cushion your shoulder dug into. He lowered his mug, resting it against a jean clad thigh as he looked off to the side thoughtfully.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he finished softly. His heart did a kick drum beat as he parted his lips to speak again. 

Being in such close proximity, having you in his safe space after what felt like too long, had him reeling. Words formed and tangled on his tongue, a quiet breath taking place for what he longed to say.

When he wandered back to you, the soft haze in your eyes as you stared into your hot chocolate only told him that now wasn’t the time. He cleared his throat, racking his fingers through his damply flattened hair.

“Tired?” he asked in a low hum. You lifted your head languidly, slowly blinking in his direction. You gave him a ghost of a smile in return, rubbing at the corner of your eye.

“Maybe a little. It’s been a long day. Time zones and all.”

“It is gettin’ late,” he mused, looking over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Above the stove, the time relayed that it was half past nine.

“I need you with me early in the mornin’. Gotta get Garrick from the station.”

“Hm,” you grunted, the sound echoing into your mug as you brought it closer to drink the last of your cocoa, now cooled to just below room temp. 

You licked a smudge of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Soap stared at the discreet flash of pink from your tongue, breaking away with a quick snort.

“C’mon,” he reached up with the hand closest to you, brushing his thumb against your cheek with a pinch so feathery light you thought your tired mind imagined it. “I’ll show you to your bed.”

—

Soap was completely restless.

He blamed the hot chocolate and its sweetness for the way he tossed and turned in his sheets, but internally he knew different. What didn’t help was the fact that you were only a wall away now, under his roof where he called home.

It was the night cousin Blair and his family came over, hauling in pans of food, his darling wife Ava, and a rosy-cheeked newborn in addition to the twins—who sprouted two feet since Soap last seen them—that the idea of a party was thought of at all.

The pot roast was just being cut into when a brief mention of missing the field was uttered from Soap’s lips. 

“Why not gan an’ have a gaff? Invite ‘em over?” 

Soap looked to Blair as if he discovered sunlight.

“Yer pure deid brilliant.”

Even then, Soap shuddered at the idea of inviting the team to this private slice of life, albeit one of many. He couldn’t imagine what could happen if he brought work so close to a home-adjacent, and each time he had in the past the thought would end in red. Sometimes just having extended relatives visit made him wary.

Then again, Soap prided himself in his ability to wield lasting connections with those around him. The proof of that shone greatly with the way he was around family, illuminated with his time in service, or even how he spoke to strangers.

The man possessed the heart of a lion, and as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, it roared longingly behind tight ribs. 

Beyond that, something buried itself deeper into the cavities of his chest when it came to you; the hilt pressing ominously against his heart.

It wasn’t anything new to him, as Soap was sure that his feelings for you have long crossed the lines of usual and expected camaraderie by now. 

It was just a matter of talking to you about it.

read along on ao3

next: chapter 2

© 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐆 || 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 / 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 / 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞.

[prettymeaninglessnonsense]

In my years

I have lived

Crawled

Walked and

Crawled again

Talked

Laughed

Cried, all the same

When I was young

When I was young, i remember asking my mum why the sky was blue

She told me the person who painted the rainbow had excess of it;

"He isn't a good painter; he left white spots. They were clouds, little me had no clue

"Then you, dearest become the greatest painter one day" kindly, she would say

That day we sowed a seed deep in the ground

"What will grow?" Curious I asked

"A fig tree"

"Will it bear fruits?!"

"Yes, delicious ones for me and you;

We will eat together, just us two"

"When will it grow?"

5year old me desperately wanted to know

Looking up at my mum, my eyes squinting from the sun

"Just as you do" My loving mum sung

For a week I checked and nothing emerged from the soil, it hurt my soul

"It takes time to grow" my beautiful mum would console

I was 5 at the time and it took a very little while

For me to forget everything about the seed and the soil

It was my mum who remembered,

One afternoon I was painting- making masterpieces of disco-dancing pokemons

when she shouted for me to come down

A little sapling had emerged from the ground

Every morning I would water it

Every Evening I would sing to it

Every night I would kiss it goodnight

Afternoons I skipped- my nap time was ritualistic

As time went by,

Goodnight kiss became a useless chore

And singing an artless burden

But upon my mother's will,

I did water it still.

When I was in middle school a boy from high school called my drawings uncool,

"What a waste of time" he'd sneered

"Waste of perfectly good writing paper

And please do not make art your future career"

I was eleven years old and took things to heart

He has hit the bullseye with those pointy remarks and sharp darts

Why couldn't I make art my career?

Who was he to sneer?

I scaled down corridors- towards the bathroom stalls,

to find myself a nice toilet seat to sit and cry myself out in.

Bang at the door,  hit the ceiling and scream at the bathroom walls,

I was thinking about this when I turned my head and looked into class of the seniors.

I squited my eyes, trying to figure about what they were doing

With needles and buttons, there was something all were sewing.

I stifled a cry when I understood the performing task

Upon some stitched eyes (with buttons on top!) they wore a mask?!

I ran back to my teacher immediately

She was worried and asked where I had been

"There are things you'll understand as you grow"

Maybe I don't want to ever ever ever

She handed me my test score, B+ was never bad never good

To improve was the only option, I left painting for a day or two

Mum also interested me into cultivating hobbies,

In summer camps i learnt more than school could ever teach me.

A tragedy transpired one day- a girl died

Was killed by a bear

"What if that was you?" My teary eyed mum questioned

"Like you would even care"

I shouldn't have said that but you see, I loved that camp

It helped me grow, that sapling now reached my hips

But the camp dissolved and isn't heard of since (it still makes me wince)

One day, before my bus i quickly watered Figgy (That's what we called it thereafter)

Same height as me it would have been difficult to kiss its leaves (if I bothered to)

We loved Figgy you see

For art we were graded that day,

I got an easy A- everyone did

Art is a scoring subject or so they say.

Also that day we received our physics grades, I got a C.

"If you actually study instead of doodling on your desk during lectures you'd do great"

My friend scolded, I was always told to behave.

To focus on the right path.

Right for who i'd question.

My friend's purple buttoned eye would gleam

Another lecture was awaiting

I was handed a needle and two buttons that day

Red and blue the options they gave, I was f

Damned either way

I took the needle and thread

Sew my lips shut ( I was wonderful at embroidery)

Before my eyes I burned my sketchbook

Scent of dreams and desires lingered in the smoke

I bottled it up and threw it in the infernal river, with the others

Today, I sat

Unable to see

Under the tall fig tree

Rotten figs all fallen all around me

[oliverreedmasterass]

Oakland SCWT Recap:

My cousin said the instrumental music they play at the start of the show made him feel like he was waiting in line to go on a Disneyland ride and he’s so right

After The Falling Sky Josh was like “I hope we passed the audition” (nice Beatles nod there dude)

Josh introduced Lover, Leaver by saying “We’re gonna do a harder one now, just pure sex” and then Jake tore into the opening notes

Sam and Josh had their dawgs OUT for basically the whole show

Sam kept trying to tune his bass while playing his solo on Lover, Leaver and Jake and Josh were off to the side of the stage, pointing and low key laughing at him

I think Josh might have been held up backstage when he left during the Lover, Leaver jam session because he was singing along while offstage

Danny was having a field day spinning his drum sticks around, standing up behind his kit, and sticking his tongue out

Jake for the most part stayed off the catwalk…I think he’s still scarred from the amp

Josh stopped mid-monologue to tell a fan in the pit that he loved them, and he grabbed a necklace from someone and put it on in the middle of a song

Jake did the Rockin Robin riff and we got Rhapsody in Blue from Sam and Danny before Light My Love!! They also did their finger wiggle thing at each other when Danny came back on stage for the encore

Jake also played a bit of Norwegian Wood before Meeting The Master and I almost died

Danny’s solo went HARD and everyone chanted “DANNY! DANNY! DANNY!” When he finished, he pretended to shoot an arrow over to the b stage where Sam and Josh were applauding him. Josh mentioned that was the first time they got the timing right on that one

Sam and Josh chugged tequila on the b stage

Josh introduced Jake as a rock n’ roll Sherpa again before The Archer

Jake was literally on fire playing the guitar. Oh, and the stage caught on fire again - a stage hand had to come out with a fire extinguisher

Also god with that long tail on his coat, he was leaning a little bit too close to those flames during The Archer…I was so stressed out

Josh needed someone to carry his train behind him when he re-entered the stage for Sacred the Thread

Jake got really into his solo during Farewell For Now and had to book it back to Josh at center stage to sing the harmonies

Danny was singing along and mimicking Josh for holding out the last line of Farewell For Now

Someone in the pit had a sign that said Resurrect Oliver Fucking Reed and I love them

I’m pretty sure Sam and Josh pretended to either fence or play badminton or something on stage after their last song, and Danny did a pretty impressive golf swing. Jake tried to chuck a pick into the stands on the right side, waved, and then took off

That’s all I can remember right now but GOD they put on a hell of a show!!!

[chronosh0t]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒱˚.*ೃ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: male skk x Lee, canon-divergence （ NO BETA ）

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: something went wrong and now Gray Raven had three feathers left.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

Finally, it was over.

What it felt it was going to last forever ended in the blink of an eye. The once raging Hetero-Creatures now lying on the dusty floor, scattered all over the place. The same could be said of the different Constructs and Commandants, their bodies resting full of scars and blood after such an intense and senseless fight caused by the Tower. But those who were still standing and didn't get affected didn't look in better condition either, one could see in their faces how tired they were, both mentally and physically which was understandable.

However, it was over. That crimson red that once decorated the sky, giving such an ominous feeling, was replaced by a warm blue light. Instead of making everyone feel as tiny as ants now, the Tower represented humanity's hope, taking away the uneasiness of the upcoming future and giving Earth more time.

The Gray Ravens, despite the state in which they were after giving their best, were now waiting for their missing teammate. Whilst Lucia and Liv were helping those conscious by giving proper treatment to their wound, the Commandant was patiently waiting.

Sitting on a rock, the human's body was clearly at his limit. His mind, after connecting with a considerable amount of Constructs to keep them safe from the previous thread, was a complete mess. He could feel the heaviness of his eyelid, trying to shut down and put his body to sleep but he refused to. Not yet, when the reason for that blue light didn't come back from the battlefield.

A few minutes more, that felt like years, and his com device rang a few times. Without thinking it twice he picked up the call, expecting to see his friend and having a nice conversation. However, the only thing he could see was the bare land and the Tower quite far but the boy couldn't be seen.

ㅤㅤㅤ Lee?— the Commandant asked, there was a hint of concern in his voice. Did something bad happen? thought to himself. — Where are you? We are waiting for you to come back.

ㅤㅤㅤ Zenas… — there was a pause, static filled the awkward silence but after a few seconds, he talked again. — I am sorry.

The call ended.

……

Heart beating rapidly, his body was falling into an abyss, completely dark and there was nothing he could do. Far away, he could see a familiar silhouette so he started running but instead of getting closer the distance was becoming considerably worse. Suddenly the Tower was red again, the world was engulfed in that crimson blood.

Zenas woke up. It was a nightmare, the same nightmare he had been having since they came back from Earth after the Tower incident. It has been two years since then and, even though they were still fighting the virus as usual, trying to retake the blue planet from the hands of the Red Tide and Ascendants, even when it seemed like nothing much changed, something actually did.

Instead of four, now three feathers were left. His name wasn't in the memorial wall but the absence of his peculiar presence was unbearable. After that call two years ago, none of the Gray Raven saw Lee again. They searched nonstop day after day, refusing to give up, refusing to let him go to no avail. It was as if he disappeared without leaving any trace. But that was something he was capable of doing, indeed.

The team was given a few weeks to properly recover, not only from the physical wear but also emotionally after missing such an important part of them. The three of them knew, however, that no matter how much time they were given, it would've taken forever to come in terms with such a fact.

In any case, Gray Raven even opted for more work.

He took as many missions as possible, he even took care of all the paperwork, and decided to give a hand to other teams as well. He was trying to keep his mind as busy as possible to avoid any intrusive thoughts. Regardless, when night fell, it was hard to keep a good mood. Again, the absence was killing him. The guilt of not being able to help Lee, of letting him go alone to climb up that Tower, the regrets of giving up on his search. He felt he didn't give the very best to search for Lee. So he would opt to sleep when he felt tears making its way. Crying wouldn't help.

Today wasn't diferente. Woken up by the same nightmare, buried himself with paperwork and took missions to keep themselves busy. This time it was just a scout mission, nothing too complicated, but served its purpose. And after getting ready they flew straight to Earth. Safely landing, they stepped out of the transport craft and quickly did a sum of what they were supposed to do. Again, nothing out of the ordinary and the idea was to finish it off in a few hours, go back, and repeat the process.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Commandant, I will check the surroundings just in case before starting.” — said Lucia, she looked as determined as ever.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Alright. Liv and I will talk with the people and see if we can get anything useful. Take care.” — replied, after what happened back then, he became even more worried about the two of them. The feeling was reciprocal, too.

After Lucia left, the two of them went straight to the scavengers resting. Apparently the Ascendants started to be more active in that specific zone or that's what they kept on saying, mentioning a peculiar “agent” that would wander around, just observing the surroundings. Once Liv did a full body scan and made sure their vital signs were good, with the help of some Constructs stationed in that area since a couple of weeks earlier, started to accommodate some supplies they had brought from Babylonia.

Everything seemed good. Once Lucia came and reported back the situation, they ought to make an early report and send it to Babylonia. Nevertheless, Zenas decided it was still better to check once again, and going even a bit further, he didn't want to miss anything. And so they started to walk away from the safe zone.

The sun was shining as bright as ever, there was a cold breeze that gently played with the dry leaves resting on the ground, birds could be heard not too far. At that specific moment it felt like a normal autumn day, as if the punishing virus didn't exist and Earth was as peaceful as ever. He stopped in his tracks, the Tower was still standing, the blue halo was brighter than ever.

He could feel how the guilt and sadness was taking over him. That was a novice mistake. Too absorbed in his mind, reviving some memories he didn't see the threat that was observing them, nor did he realise he was the target of a gun. The blood was rapidly leaving his body, soaking his exosuit. He remembers seeing Liv running to his aid, Lucia was fighting someone, but they were too far and the Red Tide was, somehow, getting close. He lost consciousness after that.

….

A loud bang woke him up from his slumber. A door had been closed, was he in a basement? How about Lucia and Liv? Were they fine? He tried to get up but the pain was actually pretty bad and every single movement made him dizzy.

He heavily breathed and, with the little strength he had, forced his body to a sitting position. The room was completely dark but there was a small window, letting some light in, however it was far from enough but at least he could see some pieces of clothes soaked in blood, a few blankets beside his bed and a rusty night table. That's all. Except him, there was no one else. It was obvious that he got separated from his teammates. Again. A rush of anxiety was building up in his chest and cold sweat was starting to form on his forehead.

He heard steps. Someone was coming. A door opened and a figure appeared. The person was wearing a big and worn out cloak, covering the face and part of the body. Whoever it was, it didn't want for their identity to be known. Either way, he still tried to ask and see if he could get some answers…

ㅤㅤㅤ “Where am I?” — his voice was hoarse. As expected, no answer. But considering how hard that person was trying to hide from them, it would've been stupid to actually answer. He tried again.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Who are you? and why did you save me?” No answer. That only confirmed the obvious: whoever that person was, he knew them.

He tried to move closer, trying to reach the hoodie of the cloak but a hand stopped him midway. It was a robotic arm, no synthetic skin, just the white metal could be seen. A construct? But.. who? He couldn't remember someone with that aspect. That simple movement put him in pain, was his injury that bad?

He winced but tried his best to not lose the attention to the one in front of him. At that time an alarm rang, his exosuit was telling him that the punishing virus was high enough. His eyes widened at that fact, it only made him more confused because whoever saved him, it was an Ascendant. Out of the blue, he remembered that last conversation he had with Lee. How he apologised and disappeared. But why was he thinking about that now? Anxiety was again filling every inch of his body; if it was indeed an ascendant then he wasn't sure that he was saved for good reasons.

While he was lost in thoughts, and even getting nostalgic over some memories, the person in front of him turned to face him, and unexpectedly, handed him a bowl of… food. It smelled good, he had to admit. Yet he refused to eat it.

ㅤㅤㅤ “What do you want?” Are you the Ascendant that has been observing those humans?” — he knew by now that the percentage of getting an answer was below zero. It was getting on his nerves. “I am not in the best mood so stop acting like a mighty being and answer me”

Silence filled the room but it was quickly broken by a chuckle. Did the bastard just laugh at me? Zenas was ready to ignore the risk of fighting off a corrupted, his anger was building up pretty fast at that point.

The Ascendant let out a sight. With a swift movement the hoodie wasn't hiding the face, and even if the light that entered from the window was the same as nothing, he could still see it.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Why do you always end up in such state?”

His heart was beating so fast, he felt like it was just a matter of seconds before his ribcage was broken into pieces. There was a faint feeling of dizziness, his mind was a complete chaos and it was hard to swallow. His throat was dry. Time stopped.

He inhaled and breathed out. Zenas repeated the process many times and after his mind finally became just a white page, he did answer.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Lee…”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

🎐 I hope you enjoyed this.

🎐if you have any questions, ask me.

[bright-tatters]

Tatters #16

“You go first.”

The half-collapsed warehouse was partially open to the orange-clouded night sky. Inside the air was cold and the glass and paper targets ranged along a distant wall presented a challenge.

Piper did as Fortune suggested. Fortune should like this, and it would keep Piper in one piece, he sensed. He exhaled, aimed, and fired. The glass bottle at the far left shattered and fell.

“Very nice,” and as Fortune said it, he flowed into a balanced stance and took the second.

“Too easy if it’s clear to one side.” Piper skipped the half-exposed third. He set his stance, he was aware of himself from planted feet to aligned head to steady, steady hands, and hit the fifth.

“Fair.” The eighth went away.

Eleventh.

“Running out,” said Fortune. “Let’s try something.” He set his stance and shot a tight diamond into a free expanse of paper target. “Thread that.”

Piper swallowed and aimed. This was like any other target, not special for the hands that had set it, just relax…he squeezed, and a hole erupted at the center of the figure. He grinned—and Fortune’s mouth turned up, ever so slightly, like an echo in a space only they could hear—and placed two shots of his own. He reloaded in silence and placed the other two. One went a couple of inches wide, leading to a flattened diamond.

“Ow, my ego,” he said.

“Relax,” said Fortune, and reloaded just one chamber, and placed a shot perfectly at the intersection of lines between opposite corners.

Piper squinted critically. “You’re very good, for a man who doesn’t own a gun.”

“You’re very professional, for a man who banks on your devil-may-care charm.” Fortune was never relaxed, Fortune was poised.

“What’s the safe direction here? Down okay?”

“Especially not down, here. I’m protecting people.”

He sounded perfectly serious. Did that mean a basement? Or did it mean something more extensive under Tatters, someplace only a boss would know? “You run a weird ship.”

“If only you knew.”

“I’m asking because I want to put this down.”

Fortune jerked his head toward the shelf beside them. “Point downrange. Let us assume for ease of movement that we trust one another.”

“And what were we doing this entire time?” Piper said lightly as he laid the revolver down.

Fortune set his down beside it. “I….”

He seemed genuinely baffled. Piper rushed to fill the silence. “I for one believe you wouldn’t have invited me here to hurt me.”

Fortune nodded, accepting.

“Are we alone?”

Fortune’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, actually.”

“Good. Because I’ve been thinking about you, and I was really hoping…just a tiny bit. Won’t take but a minute.”

Fortune studied him. Piper studied Fortune right back. A tiny lock of straight soft hair was sticking straight up from his temple, the only disarray in his controlled image. His dispassionate blue eyes said nothing, but when Piper grinned again his mouth twitched again. It never failed. Like a string Piper didn’t want to stop tugging.

“What were you hoping?” Fortune murmured.

Powder and distant electric light. Another vignette, another strange something carved out of the material of this city he called home. A very gorgeous person, an original in what had sometimes felt like a repetitive mire. Piper stepped in and Fortune didn’t stop him. Carefully he took Fortune’s hand and laid it on his cheek.

Fortune pushed up to kiss him. Maybe a minute. Maybe a little longer.

Piper took his lips from the side of Fortune’s heated throat and pulled Fortune in with a hand on either side. Fortune resisted, setting a warning hand on his chest and an inviting one on the side of his neck. “Why me?” he said quietly.

“You’re beautiful and I’ve seen what you do for Tatters. Does it have to be anything else?”

“At best only one of us gets the other killed.”

“You haven’t aimed at me all night.” Until maybe just that moment. “Can I tell you something?”

“Consider me sealed.”

“Mm, no, exactly the opposite. I happen to be carrying some very high-quality lubricant.”

Fortune cast a look toward the guns. “You'd never get it out of the mechanism.”

“What are—” Piper laughed. “Practical, but beside the point.”

Fortune seemed quieter after that moment, but when Piper moved he responded, when Piper paused he seemed to hold his breath; he was an active participant, just a very careful one. Until the moment his initiative kindled.

It was enough.

[curseshared]

Yeah instead of interacting with anyone I just decided to take the event info as a list of prompts and create a Rainbow of Hypothetical Liliths. Uhhh I'm not doing an rp ad, and the rules say you only get ONE double, so if any of these interest you, act fast to decide which one gets to be real. Also if you want an event thread in general please message me, especially if I still owe you a starter.

Original: sky blue; self-reflection. She embodies the feeling of being left alone with your thoughts, and realizing all the things you wish you'd done differently. She will be mopier than usual, stuck in a loop of regret.

Tint: ice blue; inaction. The best way to avoid making more mistakes is to do nothing at all, right? Right...?

Shade: midnight blue; despair. Regret becomes self-loathing, and without hope this becomes resignation to the fact she is simply a horrible person and nobody should ever associate with her.

Analogue 1: mint green; rehabilitation. This is a timeline where she made better choices a little bit earlier, so everything is just a little bit better for her. She is nice and understanding, even to her 'real' self's mistakes.

Analogue 2: violet; retribution. Something went horribly wrong in this timeline, and instead of dwelling on exactly how much of it is her fault, her mind is instead consumed with thoughts of vengeance...

Complement: earth orange; shamelessness. Instead of an 'evil twin', this is more like... a Lilith who is incapable of self-awareness, and therefore will behave in ways that are silly and uninhibited, a lot like Hooty, come to think of it. The worst threat she poses is oversharing.

[hslcat]

Saus-tember: Day 2 - Sails

--------------------------------

He sat on the deck with his back to the mast in the midday sun, listening to the sounds of the sea, birds, waves and in the distance he could hear his fellow kestrels celebrating a successful raid and he was probably going to join them later.

But right now he was focusing on repairing the sails of the ship.

Turns out that none of the others could do a decent patching. He had guessed that Oli couldn't , due to the state of that shirt of his, but he had assumed that someone else at least knew how to handel a needle and thread.

But alas, he was completely alone in his endeavour.

Not that he didn't enjoy sewing, it would just have been nice to not have to patch the whole sail all on his own.

But here he was.

As he was sewing he thought about his Ma, she was the one who taught him when he was a little boy even though his Pa did disagree with him learning it, though he did nothing other than just complain about it.

His Ma had insisted that if he was going to be an independent man one day that he learn to mend his own clothes, something he was very relieved of now days.

He had learnt all types of stitches, back stitches, ladder stitches, slip stitches, hemstitches and, of course, sailmaker's stitches, which he was currently using.

His Ma was a seamstress for nobels, so she got to work with the finest fabrics in the most vibrant colours and the most delicate stings.

He obviously never got to work with them, he was just the son of a lowly sailor and a simple seamstress.

He worked with the bland but sturdy fabrics that the common folk wore, with the strings that could last for months even years under hard work.

But he still got to learn the tecnices that was only used for nobility.

His Ma had once gotten a roll of golden string from one of her clients, that was the one time he got to sew with the golden strings of the rich.

Just a small embroidery on a small pice of fabric, but still.

When he was seventeen he, with the guidence of his Ma, was working on a vest that would be worn when he went out on the sea. His Ma had managed to get a beautiful light blue fabric, dureble enough to be worn while working hard at sea.

When he was finished with the vest, the one he was currently wearing, his Ma had given him the golden string "To make your vest truly yours" as she had said.

He in fact still had the thread, he hadn't used it yet.

Putting down the now fully mended sail he sat back and looked up at the fast darkening sky, then he heard howls of laughter coming from the camp.

He smiled as he rose from his position, body aching from sitting still for so long, and started walking towards the camp.

When he arrived at the camp he saw them all gatterd around the fire, laughing, drinking.

And Scar sitting and mending one of his many hats.

He wasn't really as suprised or offended as he probably should have been, but knowing Scar, this is exactly what he would do.

As he lets out a laugh all eyes turn to him some suprised, some not, Oli looking between him and the empty seat next to him as if he thought Sausage had been sitting there a moment ago. And of course Scar, with the look of a man who has been caught in a lie but did not regret a thing.

The silence brought by his arrival is broken by Kyle bursting into laughter and the others soon joining in.

As Sausage joins in he knows exactly what he wants to do with his golden thread.

--------------------------------

Second day done. This was a long one.

Was this supposed to be about mending a sail, yes. Did it end up being about Sausage learning to sew, yes,

So for this I had to look up different stitches and I picked five different ones from the list, but when I saw that there was a stitch called sailmaker's stitch it was perfect.

If anyone is wondering what Sausage is going to do with with his golden string, he was planning on embroidering the kestrels sigil on his vest.

[jessysapphireblue]

One Piece Advent Calender Door 5

Today awaits you some time with the simp and cook, Sanji!

Door 5: Tinsel or rather socks

Coming back from the Town with bags in arms, you went straight to the kitchen, to see Sanji occupying the table. “Perhaps I should evade the Kitchen. I´m back, Sanji” “Goddess~~~ welcome back! What did you got there?” “Ingredients for cooking. You know, Christmas cookies and stuff” “CAN I HELP YOU WITH IT~~~~”, Sanji began to swoon around you, as you heard the soft >Mellorine< around you. “Oh why yes, when you are there when I bake, certainly”

“Ah, my beloved Goddess! You warm this poor mans heart up like no tomorrow!!!” A short laughter passed your lips. “Oh why thank you...say, where can I store these up so-” “Oh why, certainly! I already prepared” You followed him into the cooking area to a little cabinet, where your name was written on. “Your own special little baking cabinet~” “Oh, Sanji. How kind of you”, hugging the blond cook, he melted in your embrace. “Thank you”, pressing a fleeting kiss on his cheek, you began to store your stuff away as you heard a thumb. Turning around, Sanji lay flat on the tiles, no emotions-whatsoever.

“oops”, you smiled wryly before “Sanji what is with all this stuff on the table?” “Oh, I deciaded to make some decorations!”, he smiled at you, jumping up. “Did you also-” “Not really. But I remember my Mom made me a Christmas stocking. For Reiju also. So I wanted to make one for all of us” “Aww, that is so sweet! Do you need some help`?” “Yeah”, he smiled and the both of you sat down. “Oh, would you like some hot tea?” “Uh, yes please” “Coming, my beloved~~~”, Sanji swooned back to the kitchen. You looked at the half-sewn orange sock. “You can sew?” “Oh why yes! My Mom taught it to me...well a little. The rest did the old Geezer. Here you go, Madmoiselle~”, he presented you the tea. “Thank you kindly, Sanji.” Taking a sip you looked at the different fabrics. “You already have each name pinned on the colors?” “Yes. Oh. What would you like? I wasn´t sure on either a pretty blue, an innocent white or gold for the goddess you are~~” “Well, my color is a gentle sky blue” “But while doing your magic you look so graceful and elegant like a white rose~” “Now don´t make this harder for me”, you looked at him with a soft pout. He smiled softly at you. “I take the blue one. but we could use the white to make a border around the sock” “Oh! A nice idea!” “Right?”

And so you began to draw the socks and cut them neatly out while Sanji sewed them together. “I wish I could help you with it but I´m too bad at sewing” “Oh, Don´t worry~ You did plenty by drawing and cutting it for me” A little sigh escaped you before you played with your finger as Needle and thread came together, moving your finger in the air as the needle began to stitch, making you smile and soon, it was done. “My Goddess, what did you do?” “Tadaa~ I gave it the last touch on giving each border a name”, smiling you held one out with Luffy´s name on it. “So neat and pretty” “Thank you”

“Why did this rubber idiot get you?! What did he do to deserve such a golden girlfriend?! Such a sweetheart!”, he began to sob. “Aww, Sanji, heads up. There is a woman in the world for you. And for you all alone! You will meet her. You deserve happiness” Big puppy eyes looked at you. “And if you really like one, please, just be yourself. She will love every side of you” “YOU ARE A GODDESS!!”, he shouted. “How can someone be so sweet and kind and gentle, yet so powerful and haaaa~~”, he began to swoon. “sanji, the socks” “Oh, sorry sorry”, he smiled and went back to sewing.

Soon, you had 11 stockings, each in their own color and with their names. “Uh! They look nice” “Thank you again for helping me, Madmoiselle~”, Sanji took your hand and kissed it softly, making you smile softly. “Sanji, it was my pleasure”, walking to the door, you just stepped a foot outside. “Oh, Sanji?” “Yes?” “Come here for a sec” he directly came over. “What is it?” You pointed to the misteltoe.

A huge blush came over the cook, swallowing. “W-Whoa h-hey ok, ok! Sanji, cool. Be cool”, he breathed out and you gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. “Keep it ”, you whispered, leaving the wide eyed cook back in the kitchen before you heard a lout thumb, again.

He fainted.

[ineffablelunatic]

earth angel (will you be mine?)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: GOmensEveryday Countdown Event (Good Omens), Fluff, Love Confessions, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Mild Time Travel, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), gabriel is not around, thank god, maybe Muriel is looking after him, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)

Language: English

@gomenseveryday Five days to go!

AO3 link if you want to read it there:

The Ritz, early evening. He hadn't been able to get time alone with Aziraphale since Gabriel showed up. The separation was starting to wear on him.

Aziraphale looked so beautiful, like a star plucked from the sky. There was a glow to him, untarnished even after so many years of being crushed down. That glow had always guided him, had been his lighthouse in the darkness.

His angel was fiddling with the gold ring on his finger, twirling it one way and then another. He wished he could have done this somewhere more private, but he couldn't carry this burden for another day. After everything, after six thousand years of treading on eggshells and glancing over their shoulders, he thought they were finally safe.

Then bloody Gabriel showed up and the precious, fragile life that he had built for himself caught aflame, and now he knew that if he waited any longer he might never get the chance.

He drained the last of his wine, warm and burning in his throat, his heartbeat sluggish, content in his chest. Aziraphale cleared his throat, half-rising from his seat, but Crowley caught his hand, stopping him dead. Palms facing, the angel's fingers soft, smooth, delicate. It felt good.

"Crowley?"

He sounded unsure. This was it, the moment. No going back now.

"Angel, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, and it's going to sound stupid and sappy, but you have to promise not to freak out."

He blinked, slow, elegant. "You know you can tell me anything, Crowley."

He could do this. He had practiced over and over again, in the mirror, alone in St James' Park, reciting it to his plants, a mantra, a spell that he cast to protect his heart. Then Aziraphale smiled at him, and his stomach flipped into his throat, and all of those carefully crafted words left his head.

"IloveyouAziraphale."

It came out as one long word, and he swore under his breath. Aziraphale's face went pale, eyes wide. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. He looked like a deer trapped in the headlights.

Damnit. Damnitdamnitdamnit. He had royally messed up this time. Nerves rose like a sea within him, roiling and crashing, salted with holy water. Undo it, undo it, undo it. Unravel the threads, try again, hope that he could do better next time.

The Ritz, early evening. Aziraphale's hand in his, but before. Before he had spoken.

"Crowley, dear - what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Nothing important, angel. I just wanted to know - y'know, it's a nice evening, I wondered if you wanted to go for a walk in the park or something. We could feed the ducks - and - and - get ice cream."

Aziraphale's brow furrowed, bright eyes concerned. "Are you sure that was all?"

"Yes, very sure. Totally, completely sure. Certain."

---

He leaned against the railing, breathing in the crisp night air. The night was pressing in on him, the stars sitting on his shoulders like a funeral shroud. The ice cream shop had been closed - of course it was, it was 7PM at night, what had he expected?

"Are you quite alright, Crowley? You seem out of sorts this evening."

Second time lucky. He had tried once. He knew what to expect now.

"Aziraphale, what I've been meaning to tell you is that -"

Wide blue eyes watching him, innocent and soft and lovely, nothing like his own. He released a shaking breath. This shouldn't be as hard as it was.

"I know you think I go too fast for you, but I wanted you to know that I wouldn't mind spending eternity with you. If you're alright with that, that is."

"Well, we've already spent an eternity together. Six thousand years, in fact."

"I mean - not as we have been. Not as friends. As - something else."

No, that wasn't quite right. He needed time to think. He needed to be more eloquent, to be something that Aziraphale could want, could respect, could love. A snap of his fingers and the world slowed to a halt, the wind ceasing its steady sway and rustle.

Hands through his hair, pacing up and down. He ran a finger over Aziraphale's frozen cheekbone, dropped his head into his hands, pressed on his eyes until it felt like they might burst. He would try again. Another shift, the stars moving backwards in the sky.

"I really like you, angel."

"I like you too, Crowley."

"I want to be with you all the time. I would always be there if you needed help. Like I always have been. And I would buy you books and bring you cake, and I could watch you eat -"

He shouldn't say that. That sounded creepy. For someone's sake, why was this so difficult?

"I'm here, angel. Why won't you see me?"

"Of course I see you."

"Not like I want you to."

Again, again, again, watching as words failed him time after time. Damn scripts and practiced words. Damn the park and the sky and the stars and the moon that watched him from above. Damn the Almighty and her Ineffable Plan. He was too tired for this.

He turned away, shoulders shaking, blood boiling. He needed a stiff drink. He needed to hibernate for a thousand years and forget that he had ever tried this. He needed to sleep somewhere other than the Bentley, needed Gabriel to be out of his life, needed Aziraphale to see that he was right here and he always had been.

A hand on his shoulder, fitting like it was made to rest there.

"Crowley?"

"We should go home, angel."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." His shaking voice betrayed him.

Aziraphale turned him around, reached up, pulled off his sunglasses. "Hey. Look at me."

Soft blue eyes met his, the last trace of magic in the world, holier than anything he had seen before. Beautiful. A thumb traced the delicate skin beneath his eye, and he shook at the slight touch.

"There you are. You've been so distant lately. I've missed you."

He couldn't speak. His bones were aching, fatigue dragging him down. He didn't have enough energy to reverse time again. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"And Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

That woke him up. "What? I didn't say - how did you - what?"

Aziraphale just smiled, leaning against him, a solid, comforting presence. "That little trick with reversing time doesn't work on me. If you'd given me more time to think before trying to reset everything, you would have gotten my answer without draining yourself."

He pulled back. "So why the Heaven did you let me?"

"I thought it was sweet. I wanted to know what other nice things you would say to me."

"What have I told you about calling me nice?"

"I wouldn't know. I was otherwise distracted."

His head was spinning. This didn't feel real. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, for the sweet release of darkness to take him in its hold.

"So you - you - really?"

"Really and truly. I think I always did, but it took me a long time to give the feeling a name. I just knew that you made me feel safe."

He regained a little of his composure. "Well, clearly I wasn't doing my job very well, then."

"When have we ever done our jobs well?"

He chuckled despite himself. "Does this mean I can stop sleeping in the Bentley?"

"Mr. Crowley, are you using me for my bookshop?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Fell. I would never do such a thing, but it's very cold out there. Since you love me, I thought -"

"Alright, you wily old serpent. You can sleep inside. On the floor."

He winced. "It's better than nothing."

One arm around his waist, Aziraphale began to pull him towards the gate. Maybe this was all some strange dream, but for now, all he knew was that he didn't want to wake up.

[thegirlwhosimpstoomuch]

Celestial Bonds

Part 1 - Nice moves

In the heart of Camp Half-Blood, where demigods trained and forged friendships, a unique connection blossomed under the watchful eyes of the gods. You, a child of a minor deity, had always felt a bit out of place among the more well-known godly offspring. However, that changed the day you met Jason Grace, the son of Jupiter.

It all started during a routine training session. You were diligently honing your skills with a celestial weapon bestowed upon you by your divine parent. The sunlight glinted off the polished metal, catching Jason's attention. He had been practicing with his own weapon nearby, and the rhythmic sound of clashing blades drew him closer to you.

"Nice moves," he complimented, a warm smile gracing his features.

Blushing slightly, you nodded your thanks. Little did you know, that simple exchange marked the beginning of a celestial bond that would grow stronger with each passing day.

As the weeks went by, you and Jason found yourselves drawn to each other. Whether it was sparring in the arena, strategizing during capture the flag, or simply sharing stories by the campfire, a connection deeper than friendship began to spark. It was as if the gods themselves were weaving a thread that tied your fates together.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars started to twinkle, you and Jason found yourselves alone on Half-Blood Hill. The air crackled with a sense of anticipation, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of electricity in the atmosphere.

"Y/N," Jason began, his blue eyes locking onto yours, "there's something about you. Something special."

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, feeling the truth in his words. Before you could respond, a celestial glow enveloped the two of you, and the presence of divine energy became palpable.

Above you, the night sky seemed to open up, revealing a tapestry of constellations that glittered in recognition of the bond forming between a child of a minor deity and a son of Jupiter. It was a celestial bond, woven by fate and strengthened by the shared experiences of demigod life.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a tale that would unfold with challenges, adventures, and a love that transcended mortal and divine boundaries. The celestial bonds between you and Jason Grace were destined to shape the course of your demigod journey in ways neither of you could have imagined.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Hello hoomans ‧₊˚ ⋅

New story ‧₊˚ ⋅

My first story ‧₊˚ ⋅

Hope u like eet ‧₊˚ ⋅

Btw part 2s here(and yes I figured out how to do that linky thingy)

[spaciousreasoning]

A Day of Resurrection

In addition to today it being Easter, it was also 420 Day, certainly an odd combination of celebrations. The weather was mostly cloudy, with some sun and blue sky during the middle of the day. It got down to 35 degrees last night and only reached 58 this afternoon.

My blood sugar this morning dropped to 182, which is under 200, at least. After having coffee and playing almost all the brain games, we made some cinnamon toast before heading off to church. On the way, Nancy and I discussed some of the ways in which we have experienced resurrections in our own lives. We can each claim several examples.

While the sanctuary at St. Thomas was more crowded than normal, it was not a surprise, given that it was Easter Sunday. But it was nowhere near full. The rector kicked off her homily with a story about a Sunday school teacher who asked her students what were the first words Jesus said when he stepped out of the tomb. One little girl answered, raising her hands and spreading them wide, “Tada!” The story got a good chuckle, and I used the word later as a response during the Eucharist. That got a chuckle from the rector.

On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up some Omega-3 capsules, a couple of bottles of cold brew, zucchini and broccoli for roasting, and another prepared chicken dinner for the future.

We had sandwiches and potato chips for lunch while we listened to the podcast of this week’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me.” The guest was comedian Lewis Black, well-known for his rage-filled act and his past regular appearances on “The Daily Show.”

After lunch, I did some social media scrolling, then joined Nancy for a nap. When I got up, I went out for a walk and put in 2.34 miles in just over 47 minutes. The 5,400 steps were the most for one walk since I took a break to let my foot heal.

Nancy’s grandkids were all getting together for dinner at Kathleen’s this evening, with their partners and the great-grandbaby, and we were invited. We went over around 4:30 p.m., and we talked with everyone about having pizza on Thursday at Roaring Rapids to mark Nancy’s birthday, a repeat of what we did the day after we arrived in Oregon last year on April 23.

I grabbed a quick hotdog before taking off about 5:15 for my Sunday recovery meeting. I had not been there for two weeks, so it was nice to check in again. Sabrina was celebrating 16 years, so she kicked off the sharing with insights from her personal experiences. There was also a couple of people who were returning from relapses, including one young man who had previously put together three years. He had just five days, and he shared the horror story that was his relapse. We were grateful he made it back alive, since that does not always happen.

By the time I got to Kathleen’s to pick up Nancy, everybody else was getting ready to take off. Once home, we began streaming with the penultimate episode of “Dark Winds.” There will be a lot to wrap up next week in the finale. Fortunately, a fourth season has already been ordered. Next we saw the third episode of the new series of “Hacks.” Deborah Vance took her writers to Las Vegas for some fun and brainstorming, and things wound up going a little bit sideways. We finished the evening with the sixth episode of the final series of “Bosch: Legacy.” Honey Chandler is now the DA and her first case involves trying to prosecute a man suspected of killing a police officer. As a result of his investigation, Bosch comes to the conclusion that the killing was a deliberate assassination. There are four more episodes to work out this case and the other threads.

Tomorrow looks like it will be another cloudy and cool day, starting around 43 degrees and warming to just 58 during a sunny period in the late afternoon. For now, it looks like Tuesday and Wednesday may be sunny again, with temperatures reaching into the 60s. The only thing on our agenda for tomorrow is Nancy’s haircut at 11 a.m. I might just get out and take another walk while she’s off at her appointment.

[azvolrien]

Flight Camp

A pleasant weekend giving flying lessons to a group of young gryphons goes somewhat awry.

---

“At least the weather’s good this time,” said Asta. “How many weekends have they had to postpone this, now?”

“Three,” said Redbolt with a deep sigh. “Now, I’ve flown in some pretty rough weather, but don’t suppose it’s fair to ask the little chickies to fly in a full-tilt thunderstorm.”

“It could be a useful skill for them,” said Asta, smiling. “We are in Stormhaven, after all.”

Redbolt gave a soft clicking laugh in his throat. “Likely save that for the advanced classes.”

However bad the summer storms had been, they had passed completely with no sign of returning just yet. The sky above Aberystrad Beach was a clear, pure blue, only interrupted by a few high white wisps flying in the wind coming off the sea, but despite that, the beach itself was almost deserted, other than a handful of beachcombers along the tideline and the gaggle of young gryphons – older than fledglings, but not by much – gathering on the white sand.

Redbolt leant over the edge of the huge gryphon sculpture’s head to glance down at them. “How many’s that now, d’you reckon?”

“Mmm, I think I see twelve,” said Asta. “Thirteen, if that one off to the side is with the group as well.” She flipped back the top of her satchel and took out her notebook to check the roster. “And there were… Fifteen on the signup sheet.”

Redbolt settled back with another sigh. The remaining half of his tail twitched slightly, suggesting that a phantom tail-tuft flicked to and fro in relaxation. “I’ll give them another few minutes to show up, then.” He glanced at the notebook in her hand. “Were you always this keen with notebooks and such, or did you catch it off Master Gwen?”

“She is a fearsomely organised woman,” said Asta, double-checking an earlier page for the weather forecast. “But no, in this case; I don’t think I’ve gone anywhere without a notebook since I was at school.” She paused. “Certain circumstances notwithstanding. Actually, while we’re talking about the College, I was wondering something, and it’s turned out to be surprisingly difficult to find in the library. Even Arianrhod – you remember her, I lived with her for a few weeks when I first came to Stormhaven – wasn’t sure if they had any books about it. I was hoping you might know more about it.”

“Hrm?”

“Do gryphons have magic?”

“Hrm.” Redbolt wiggled his ear back and forth a couple of times, something like a human making a wavering gesture with one hand. “Yes and no.”

Asta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well – we all have magic. All of us, every one of us. It’s worked into us, like… like threads in a tapestry. Runs through every feather, every drop of blood. I mean – look at me.” He unfolded both wings to their full, huge extent, more than thirty feet from one wingtip to the other. “Now, I’m lighter than I look, air sacs and all that, but still, you think a beast my size could get off the ground without at least a spark to help out? The wizards always look forward to our moults – our sheds can be useful ingredients for potions and whatnot.” He folded his wings again, shuffling them a little to settle them more comfortably along his back, and looked out to sea.

“So, yeah, gryphons do have magic,” he went on. “But if what you’re really asking is ‘can gryphons be mages’ – that’s rare. That’s very rare. It’s not unheard of, but every generation only hatches one or two, if that, who can really channel and control their magic like the wizards do. I think Owl and her little apprentice are the only ones around at the moment. They live a ways outside the city – Oakhollow, nice little place a bit east of here – but you might have seen her around now and then. White and pale grey feathers, sort of a ruff around her face, hence the name.”

“I think I have seen her once or twice. I’ve never seen one at the College, though. Not as a student, at least – Inkfoot and the messengers are always around, of course.”

Redbolt shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. It sort of – it goes along different lines to a human mage, I’m told. Not much point trying to teach a gryphon to wield magic the same way a human does, ’cause it just won’t work. I did hear that the little one wanted to sit in on a few theory classes, though, so she might turn up now and then after the summer.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” said Asta. She checked her watch. “That’s after ten o’clock now. I think anybody who hasn’t shown up by now is just going to have to deal with being late.”

“Hrm. Don’t suppose it’s fair to keep ’em waiting, the ones who got here on time.” Redbolt stood, stretched, and nodded for Asta to climb onto his back. He waited for her to buckle the safety strap around her waist before he unfurled his wings again, stepped off the side of the sculpture’s head, and glided down to the beach. The gathered youngsters looked up when his shadow passed over them, and had formed up into a wobbly line by the time his claws touched down on the sand. Asta undid the belt and slid off his back.

“We still waiting on anyone?” asked Redbolt once he was within earshot of the young gryphons. “One, two, three, four – yeah, fifteen of you here now. Right! Like as not you’ve seen me around the place – not like this face blends into a crowd easy – but we’ll do some intros anyway. The name’s Redbolt, lately Flight Captain in the Second Assault Wing. Retired the year before last after eighty-odd years in the Army. Saw action in the Battle of Second Eyrie, the Darkwald War, and more border skirmishes than I can even remember.”

“It shows,” said one female on the end of the row. Her neighbour gave her a scandalised look and made a desperate shushing sound.

Redbolt just looked at her for a few seconds until she began to stew. “Yeah, I’m missing a few bits,” he said mildly. “This one here is my pal Asta; mostly she just tagged along for something to do, but she can help you out if you need anything noted down. Any of you got more than a nest-name yet?”

A few of them did; the one who had commented on Redbolt’s scars went by Vinegar for reasons she declined to explain, while a small male halfway along the row was called Goldcrest for reasons that were entirely obvious. Most, however, were still nameless other than whatever their families shouted to get their attention.

“Well, maybe a few more of you’ll have proper names after the weekend,” said Redbolt. “Think I got my first one when I was about your age. So! Let’s make a start. I take it you’ve all been out at the practice trees? Got in some branch gliding, worked up your flight muscles?” Nods all around. “Good. Sky above knows why your families would’ve sent you out here if you hadn’t. So, since you know how to glide down from a high place, lesson one for today: getting off the ground. What do you already know?”

There were a few seconds of silence as the students all glanced at each other, before Goldcrest held up one fore-claw. It seemed such a human gesture that Asta smiled. “Uh… Flap?”

Redbolt laughed. “You’re not wrong, but there’s more to flight than flapping. Look at the shape of my wing.” He held one out to the side. “Not how it’s shaped from above, but from the side. See how the leading edge is rounded where all the bone and muscle is, then it trails to a sharp edge at the back where the feathers are. Then each big feather is like that too, but smaller, with the vane and the shorter barbs at the front and the longer barbs towards the back. You’ve all got the same. How you hold your wings, how the air flows over that shape – that’s just as important as flapping. More, I’d say. See the gulls up there? How they soar about, only moving their wings now and then? It’s the same for them.

“Now, me, I’ve got enough power in my chest and my back legs that taking off with one big downstroke-leap is easy enough for me, and I’ll try you out on that later, but for now let’s start you out with a wind take-off. Good weather for it today; nice strong breeze off the sea, not too many eddies to throw you around. Asta, you’d better go off to the side for a bit.”

“Yes, I think I better had,” said Asta, and sat down on the sand at the base of the statue. A couple of the students turned to watch her go, clearly still wondering why a human was sitting in on a flying class.

Redbolt cleared his throat to regain their attention. “All right! Step one! Spread out so you don’t all crash into each other.” He waited until they had done so, forming a straggling row along the tideline. “Step two!” he went on, raising his voice so they could all hear him. “Face into the wind. Step three! Wings out.” He waited until all of the young gryphons had their wings spread. Most of them were, in gryphon parlance, ‘eagles’ like Redbolt, with long, broad wings built for soaring, but a few had the shorter, rounder wings and longer tail-feathers of ‘hawks’. Redbolt nodded his approval and turned towards the sea, spreading his own wings. “Step four!” he shouted. “Make shallow flaps like this, and run!”

Two of the students almost immediately crashed into each other and fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs; one tripped on an inconvenient stone and planted his beak in the sand up to his nostrils. Three others managed to take off in a wavering glide for a few seconds before settling relatively gently in the surf and wading back to shore. The rest, however, successfully caught the wind at just the right angle and, and they picked up speed, lifted their claws from the sand and rose into the air. Redbolt nodded again and led them in a wide, gently rising spiral over the sea before coming back in for a long gliding descent to the beach. Asta couldn’t hear what Redbolt shouted back to them as they neared the sand, but presumably it was something to do with how to brake properly. Their landings were less graceful than their take-offs; only four of the students managed to copy how Redbolt dropped his hindquarters, fanning out his tail feathers and spreading out his wings to slow himself before he lowered his hind claws to the sand, took a couple of awkward little hops as his speed fell, and finally dropped to all fours and came to a halt. ‘Crash’ was probably too uncharitable a way of describing the others, but it wasn’t that far off the mark. One came close, but went to all fours too quickly and fell flat on her chest; another missed the mark with his hind legs and tumbled over in a rather spectacular forward roll.

“Everyone still in one piece?” asked Redbolt, to a chorus of pained but affirmative groans. “No broken bones or feathers? Good. Little ones like you should still be bendy enough to take a few knocks with no damage to more than your pride. Right, everyone back up to where we were first.” He waited until everyone had assembled once more and lay down on the sand, crossing his front claws over each other. “Now for the bit everyone loves,” he said, with something like a wicked grin in his voice, though his body language betrayed nothing. “Crrrriticism! Now, you two, and you,” he said, nodding towards the ones who hadn’t even left the ground. “Don’t think I need to say where you went wrong, eh?”

“We’ll stand further apart next time,” said one, glancing sheepishly to the side.

“And keep a better eye on where I’m putting my feet,” added the one who had tripped.

“Good. Now, you three, you had the right idea, but you needed more lift, which in this case means you needed more speed.”

“So, run faster,” said one of the trio who had landed in the sea.

“Run faster,” agreed Redbolt. “Like I said, I’ll try you on a leaping take-off later, but I want to see about getting you all off the ground this way first. Now, as for getting you back on the ground…”

Asta had, she privately admitted, been a little dubious when Redbolt had told her about the flying lessons. She didn’t have much contact with the other military gryphons, but those few she had spoken with who had trained under Redbolt remembered it with something approaching horror; one had told her with a haunted expression that they still dreaded the occasions when he came in as a guest instructor. However, he had clearly adjusted his teaching style for a non-military audience. ‘Gentle’ was probably still not the right word, for he made sure every one of his students knew exactly where they had gone wrong, even those who, such as Vinegar, seemed to Asta’s eyes to have performed perfectly, but he had tempered his criticism with enough coaching on how to improve that soon they were all raring to line back up for another attempt.

It was almost sunset when Redbolt finally called a halt. They had, finally, all managed to take off into the wind, circle around, and land without crashing at least three times.

“Bit trickier than a quick flutter up to the top of the statue, eh?” said Redbolt, pointing up to where they would all have been presented to Lady Starfeather after growing their first set of flight feathers. They murmured their agreement. “We’re gryphons, chickies. Flight’s in our blood. You’d get off the ground without my help, sooner or later. But instinct’s best when it’s paired with proper training.” His tail twitched from side to side in a ‘smile’. “Reckon you’re all starving now, though. C’mon, back to camp for some grub.”

A cheer went up and they followed him back through the coastal dunes in a ragged crocodile, to where a series of tents big enough to comfortably house gryphons had been set up around a huge firepit. Another cheer greeted this sight, for an entire ox had been roasting on a spit over the fire. The team of human cooks who had overseen it lifted the spit from its supports, carried it over to a wide, flat area of stone that had been carefully swept clear of sand, and stood back as the students descended upon the carcass like a flock of starving vultures.

“Gruesome sight, isn’t it?” said Redbolt, almost laughing.

“I think Goldcrest just put his entire head inside the ribcage,” said Asta faintly.

“Yeah, I didn’t think he had that in him, truth be told,” said Redbolt. “Struck me as more of the fussy type.” He glanced sideways to catch Asta’s mildly horrified expression. “Ah, it’s just a flight camp tradition to go a bit wild on the first night. Tomorrow’s dinner’ll be a bit more civilised. Might even have tables.”

“Tables!” said Asta. “How decadent.”

“No need for us to join the scrum, though,” said Redbolt. “C’mon, over – ah, hm. You do eat meat, yeah? Never thought to ask but I know some humans have a thing…”

Asta assured him this wasn’t a problem and followed him over to a second, smaller firepit where the cooks had roasted a pig for Redbolt. He must have warned them in advance that he had human company: they were prepared with a plate and cutlery and carved off a few slices for Asta before placing the rest down on another clean stone for Redbolt. He gave a grunt of approval – evidently high praise from the way the head cook smiled – and began to tear into it with his beak, pinning it in place with his great hooked talons. Long since used to Redbolt’s eating habits, slightly neater than the youngsters’, Asta watched quietly as she ate her own helping, noting how he used his other claw to compensate for the missing talon on his left. She frowned thoughtfully, her gaze drifting up from his claws to the great scar that cut through where his eye had once been.

“Redbolt?” she asked once he had mostly finished his pig.

“Ayah?”

“You’re missing part of your tail.”

“I am?!” said Redbolt, letting his jaw drop. A strip of pork fell from the corner of his mouth. “Why did nobody tell me?!”

“Very funny. I was just wondering, after watching you with the students today – does it affect how you fly?”

“Good question,” said Redbolt. He retrieved the fallen scrap and swallowed it before twisting his head around to look back at his tail. Intact, it would have been some six feet long, but whatever long-ago wound had taken it had left less than half of that. “It did throw off my balance at first,” he said after surveying it for a few seconds. “Had to re-learn a lot of that. But see these big feathers at the base?” He fanned them out in demonstration. “They’re what’s really important for steering in the air. You see it with birds too. Use ’em to shift the airflow over the wings.”

“I think I understand.” More hesitantly, Asta went on. “How did that happen? I know you lost your eye and your talon in the Darkwald War, but…”

“Hah, nah, the tail’s an older thing. Not even a war wound, really, if we’re strict about it.” He sighed. “Gang of slave raiders had climbed up into the Chainbreaker Hills, a good bit north of the Harbinger Pass. Started preying on a couple of the little tiny villages up there, chaining folk up and making ready to drag them back down the hill. And somehow – dunno where they got it – they had a bladehound with them.”

Asta gasped. The terrifying war-constructs had been designed for killing wizards, loaded with as much resistance to magic as their creators could manage, but their sheer bulk and steel claws as sharp and heavy as meat cleavers made them easily a match for a gryphon on the ground.

“Yeah. I was with a border patrol when we came across them. Killed some, chased the others back down the hill, and freed the people they’d grabbed. But I reckon whoever’d been giving the bladehound its orders was one of the dead, because the thing went berserrr – uh, ran wild. Started flailing around like nobody’s business. Well, we got pikes, started forcing it back towards a drop that might break it up enough for us to finish the job, when one of my mates got too close. It went for him, all claws, and I lunged to get him out of the way. He did. I didn’t quite, and, well…” He brought his own talons down in a decisive motion. “Chop.”

Asta drew her breath in through her teeth. “I suppose you were lucky to only lose that much. If you’d been any slower it could have severed your spine.”

“Strictly, it did,” Redbolt pointed out.

“Well, yes. But you know what I mean.”

“Heh. Yeah, I know.” Redbolt paused for a moment and continued, a hint of reluctance entering his voice for the first time. “Actually,” he said slowly, “if I’m honest… losing the eye was worse for flying. Made it harder to judge distances, you know? Crashed a few times when the ground came up faster than I’d thought, until I got used to it.” He stared into space for a few seconds, then gave himself a shake as if to dislodge a bad memory. “Still, I am used to it now. Barely remember what it was like to have two, really.”

Asta found that difficult to believe, considering that Redbolt was more than a hundred years old and had been missing an eye for less than twenty, but thought it best not to voice as much. “You’re very philosophical about all your scars,” she said quietly.

“Ah, well. Don’t see much point being otherwise. Not like pulling my feathers out will make my tail grow back, eh?”

“Hm.” Asta ran one hand back over her shoulder and beneath the collar of her blouse, finding the uppermost whipping-scar across her back with her fingertips. Only after a few more seconds of silence did she realise that Redbolt had turned his head and was watching her without speaking. She met his steady golden gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s different, I think, with all of mine,” he said, his raspy voice unusually gentle. “They weren’t fun – actually picked up a nasty infection with the eye, had to sit out the last few months of the war – but… I was on my feet and fighting, you know? Heat of battle sort of thing. Them or me. There wasn’t the same…” He paused, wiggling his ear again. Asta imagined he might have wrinkled his nose, had his beak been capable of such an expression. “Wasn’t the same kind of… of cold cruelty behind it that there was with that.” He nodded towards her back. “And I think maybe it’s that that haunts your dreams as much as the real pain of it.”

“…You might be right.”

Redbolt grunted and gave himself another shake. “You said your berserker killed the one who did that to you?” he said, his voice back to its usual deep, gruff tone.

“Yes. She did.”

“Good. Else I might’ve had to track him down.”

Asta smiled despite herself. “Oh, he wouldn’t stand a chance.” Another short, companionable silence passed by before she changed the subject. “So, you said you might try the students with one of your leaping takeoffs tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’ll see how many can manage it. They’re young still, and it takes a lot of muscle. They would’ve sort of done it for their presentations, but going into level flight from that is a different skill to a quick flap-flap-flap straight up.”

“You know, I can’t say it’s one I’ve ever had much cause to master.”

They finished eating and, after briefly taking the students to wash up in the river, turned in for the night. Redbolt unbuckled his harness and left it in a heap at the edge of his tent. All he had with him for a bed was a huge rug made from a number of sheepskins sewn together, which he had brought from his eyrie in the city and laid out on the tarpaulin floor, but someone had thoughtfully provided a camp bed for Asta.

“They must’ve been worried I might roll over on you in the night if you just slept on the ground,” said Redbolt as Asta laid out her bedroll on top of it.

“As cosy as your feathers are, I would rather avoid that,” said Asta. “Though as a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept next to a gryphon.”

“Yeah?”

Asta nodded. “On the way south with Curlew, I was sharing Captain Steel’s cabin. That first night on the ship, I… was not in a very good place. Mentally speaking. I was trying to muffle it with the blankets they’d given me, but she must have heard me crying anyway, because she got up from her own bed across the room and lay down next to my pallet instead. She didn’t say anything, just folded a wing over me and went back to sleep.”

“Huh. She didn’t strike me as the cuddly sort.” Redbolt yawned enormously, arched his back, and turned around in a circle before he lay down on his front and rested his head on his forelegs. “Well, feel free to snuggle up if you have a bad dream, but otherwise – I’ll see you in the morning.”

They didn’t make it to the morning before both of them woke with a start. Screams echoed from down by the beach, not human voices but the earsplitting shrieks of terrified young gryphons. Somebody clawed frantically at the tent door, talons piercing the canvas. “Redbolt! Mr Redbolt! Sir!”

Goldcrest. Asta sat up and dragged her hair into an unbrushed ponytail as Redbolt lurched to his feet and wrenched the flap aside. “What’s wrong?”

The little gryphon cringed back from Redbolt looming over him. “I- We were- it’s-”

Asta went down on her knees, bringing their eyes to the same level, and took his face between her hands. “Look at me. Deep breaths. Now, what’s happening?”

Goldcrest drew in a long, slow breath, nervously fluffing his feathers out. “A few of us went back to the beach for a bit more practice after lights-out,” he said. He cast a cautious glance up at Redbolt, who just listened in silence. “One of the others, that hawk with the sort of falcon markings? She – I don’t know, she must’ve panicked or something, and, well, um…” He pointed back towards the beach.

Redbolt looked. “Ah.”

The other students had gathered in a frightened huddle, staring helplessly at the cyclone hovering above the beach. Although the sky was otherwise still clear, the funnel of howling winds had whipped sand and spray alike up into a veil around a lone figure in midair, lit up now and then by a flicker of sparks.

“She’s a mage?” said Asta.

“We didn’t know!” one of the students wailed. “She didn’t know!”

“Vinegar!” Redbolt bellowed over the wind. The gryphon in question sat up on her haunches to stand out from the pack. “Oakhollow’s a straight flight four miles east of here. Think you can find it in the dark?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Go. We need Owl, and we need her fast.”

Vinegar nodded, took a run-up, and disappeared into the night in a flurry of feathers.

Redbolt looked back at the miniature windstorm on the beach, ran his talons through the feathers on his chest, and sighed deeply.

“What are you thinking?” asked Asta.

“That next time I run one of these, I should enlist a couple more adults to keep an eye on the youngsters.”

“I’m an adult,” Asta pointed out.

“Adults who can fly.”

Asta’s eyes flicked down to the sand at the bottom of the funnel. “How close can you get me?”

Redbolt turned his entire head to stare at her. “What?”

She pointed, grabbing a handful of his feathers with her other hand. “Look – look at the base of it. It’s moving.”

“Of course it’s moving, it’s a storm!”

“I don’t just mean around in a circle, I mean it’s drifting towards the sea! However long it takes Vinegar to find this village and then for Owl to get back here – I don’t think we have that long until that thing turns into a waterspout. And then – well. I don’t want her to drown, do you?”

Redbolt continued to look at her doubtfully.

“I know I’m not a mage and I’m certainly not a gryphon, but I do work at the College. If there’s one thing I have done a few times by now, it’s calm down a panicking apprentice.”

Redbolt looked from her to the storm and back a couple of times, breathing slowly and deeply, before he nodded. “Get a good hold on my neck, then. No time to go back for my harness.”

He took off at a run the second Asta was on his back, leaping into flight above the dunes and hurtling towards the cyclone. Asta clung harder to his feathers as he half-folded his wings and plunged into the funnel, riding the gale in a tight circle until he burst through into a pocket of still air in the middle.

The young gryphon hung in the very centre, not as motionless as Asta had initially thought: her body spasmed as bright bluish-white light crackled over her feathers, pulsing along the stiff vanes of her primaries and glowing in her wide, staring eyes, while her talons raked at the air as she tried desperately to steady herself. Her beak gaped open as her chest fluttered with rapid, shallow breaths. Slowly, jerkily, she managed to turn her head to look at them, but if she cried out, the sound was instantly torn away by the wind.

“I can’t hover, Asta!” Redbolt shouted, circling in a small ring above the youngster. “Whatever you’ve got planned, do it quick!”

Asta steeled herself and, before Redbolt could object or she could second-guess herself, threw herself from his back. He gave one appalled squawk, shocked out of his coordination, and the wind tossed him head-over-heels out of the funnel. Asta flung her arms around the young mage’s neck, dragging them both a few feet downwards before the uncontrolled magic arrested their fall. Pinpricks of sparks crawled across her hands as they dug into the slate-grey feathers, but she kept her grip and brought her mouth as close to one pointed ear as she could.

“Can you hear me?” A nod, felt rather than seen. “Have you got a name?” Shake. “I think you might after tonight, but we need to get safely back on the ground first. For now, just close your eyes and focus on my voice. You’re going to be all right.”

The gryphon’s forelegs twitched upwards to wrap around her waist; Asta winced as the talons dug in through the thin fabric of her blouse, but kept it from her voice. “Now, close your beak. Breathe in through your nostrils for a count of one… two… three… four… five… and out through your mouth. Like this.”

Slowly, the gryphon’s breathing evened out. The sparks became fewer and further between, the glow fainter, but the funnel surrounding them did not let up.

“That’s it. You’re doing well.”

“The wind-”

“Don’t worry about the wind yet. It’s not the wind holding you up here. Have you ever seen a wizard levitate? For now, just think – down.”

The gryphon took another deep breath, and slowly they began to sink until finally their feet touched the sand. The gryphon’s rear talons dug in as if to cling to the ground, and she opened her eyes. The glow was gone, revealing them to be a shade somewhere between a chick’s brown and an adult’s gold, but the wind still spiralled around them both.

“There we go,” said Asta, holding eye contact. “That’s the worst part out of the way.”

Then, a flash of motion. A pale shape hurtled through the air outside the funnel, circling around and around opposite the direction of the wind. Bit by bit the storm slowed until they could see the newcomer clearly: a lone adult gryphon, her feathers a snowy white fading to a pale grey on her wing coverts, and a strange ruff around her face. She brought herself up short, golden light coursing along the vanes of her flight feathers, and thrust both wings forwards with a sound like a thunderclap. With one huge gust of wind towards the sea, the young mage’s storm disappeared. The waves settled, and the beach was peaceful once again.

The youngster let go of Asta’s waist and backed away, looking at the sand as Owl landed. Redbolt hurried forwards and swept Asta in under his wing, preening her hair with the tip of his beak. She pushed his beak away half-heartedly before she hugged him around the neck and buried her face in his feathers.

“You sure the berserker’s the mad one of the pair of you?” muttered Redbolt, bowing his head over her shoulder.

“Heh. Well, under certain circumstances…”

Redbolt lifted his head again to take in the scene. Now that the storm had ended, the rest of the students had crept down from the dunes, edging carefully towards the mage. At their head, Vinegar sat up and punched one clenched claw towards the sky. “Galewing! Galewing! Galewing!” Soon the others had taken up the chant, and didn’t stop until Redbolt let go of Asta and stepped forwards.

“Looks like you have another apprentice,” he said to Owl. She didn’t look terribly pleased by this development. “You know the law,” Redbolt told her, his tail twitching. “All those with magic must learn to control it.”

Owl tipped her head back until it almost rested between her shoulders and gave a long, drawn-out groan. “Fiiiine.” She eyed the newly-named Galewing for a second, and her bristling crest-feathers settled into a somewhat gentler expression. “Well, I guess Sunbeam’ll be happy to have a ‘study buddy’,” she said, the last two words a little stilted as if she was unfamiliar with the term. She lifted a front claw and jabbed one talon towards Galewing. “I’ll see you at Oakhollow first thing on Ravensday to get started. You’ve got until then to sort things out with your family.” Galewing nodded. Owl lowered her talon and turned away. “Good.” She groaned again. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You know,” said Asta once Owl had flown off, “when you mentioned her earlier, I think I imagined someone with more… gravitas.”

“People usually do,” said Redbolt with a sigh. “But she does know magic, and she’s softer than she likes to act. Galewing’ll do fine with Owl keeping an eye on her.” He looked back at the rest of the students, who were still bunched in a loose half-circle around Galewing, and unfolded his wings in a shooing gesture, herding them back towards the camp. “The rest of you, back to bed as well! And stay there until morning this time!”

“I’ll speak to Master Gwen when I get back to the college,” said Asta as they walked back through the dunes. “I’m sure she can set aside some time for a chat with you before the next time you run one of these weekend events.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Because,” said Asta, “I don’t think there is anyone in Stormhaven with more experience organising groups of magical children than her.” She poked him in the side of his neck, grinning. “You are going to learn all about risk assessment forms.”

---

What has two thumbs and spent more time than is probably necessary reading about bird anatomy and flight physics? 👍👍

Gryphons aren't real! They don't need to be 'scientifically accurate'! And indeed kind of can't be, considering the aforementioned 'not real' thing. But I've always felt that at least a few nods in that direction adds a certain verisimilitude to fantasy and helps to suspend disbelief about all the stuff that's just nonsense. This was also the rationale behind noting that yes, Redbolt does actually have trouble with his depth perception.

I'm not sure how old the young gryphons are chronologically, as their aging doesn't really map neatly into human terms, but developmentally I'd put them in sort of the 8-10 range.

[s4ge-manul]

Pretty sure no one on this app follows @/FennelMboro on twitter so have no idea what this post is about BUT.

That account is a CH&T roleplay account of Fennel, run by me, and I've been discussing one of my OCs on it recently. This post is about her! It will definitely be edited in the future, if I can find this post again LMAOO

Who is “Nala”?

Nala is one of my Camp Here & There original characters! I don't fully remember where the idea for her came from (she kinda just appeared one day I guess GOD that's so in character) but I do know that she's, in a way, Helen Distortion from The Magnus Archives but OC-ified.

She’s an entity with a constantly changing and morphing appearance, but her most common appearance is this: brown skin, pale white hair, bright, saturated blue eyes, wide, toothy smile, strange facial scars and SHES A FAT WOMAN FUCK YEAH I LOVE HER SEXY MF sorry what who said that

Where did she come from?

—

Currently, the only reference to her origins on the Fennel RP account (where you see most of her lore, as I AM the person who created her) is this picture below.

The post with the picture says “I don't know who the people in the background are, but that woman.. looks exactly like Her. But human. Much more human.”

This is an image of what Nala looked like before she became the entity that now haunts the woods and terrorises Fennel, and sometimes The Macaroni Penguins (yeah they have an RP account), Yvonne and Sydney.

—

What can she do?/How powerful is she?

Fennel already figured out how to “find” her. The way Nala can send people to her domain is normally by placing a certain object somewhere, and if you look close enough, you realise it looks.. off. Like, say you're walking through the woods, and you find a tree. But this tree looks like a large cardboard cutout, and when you shine your torch on it, the light goes around rather than on. Nala normally does this, places a random weird looking tree. And the way to travel to her domain is by approaching the object, and touching it. Simple!

In my first drawing of her, the background is of her domain.

White noise, or some sort of TV static, with a purple tint to it. The background noise is static, accompanied by some sort of feedback and far-off forest ambience.

Her abilities are strange, to say the least. You would think that this old (well, she usually presents as middle-aged which isn't OLD OLD) woman would be all nice and innocent but TRUST ME she's an ASSHOLE.

As I said earlier, she's inspired by Helen Distortion. If she was a TMA character, she'd obviously be an Avatar of The Spiral, spreading lies and deception about pretty much anything, and letting people perceive her as a good person before she strikes.

The way she injures/scares people hasn't exactly been explained yet, mainly that she gave Fennel some sort of visions and now they're scared of the camp, and the hidden entities that lurk in it.

On 25/3/24, there were a few threads from the Fennel, Yvonne and newly made Nala roleplay accounts discussing Nala's past and abilities.

Fennel: "To start it off, I did find a picture of (presumably) Nala when she was.. human? Alive? and a newspaper article from when Lucille went to this camp as a teenager. About three girls being on the lake when the sky, like.. *breaks.*"

Yvonne: "??? What happened?"

Fennel: "So, after the sky breaks, everything goes dark and quiet. Well, not quiet. All that is heard is white noise. After an hour of this, the sky goes back to normal and all three girls disappeared. Only one went back to camp the next year. That was Lucille. As for the other two, I only found their firstnames. Daisy and Samira. Maybe.. don't bring this up to Lucille."

The thread above was after Nala and Yvonne had had a questionable conversation too.

Nala: "I swear if Fennel makes me start liking the penguins I might just start terrorising people other than the counselors... Maybe not Lucille though. Not that I'm afraid of her, I'm not, but I think what I did before was a bit harsh.. eh, who knows. Maybe she's over it 🤷🏾‍♀️"

Yvonne: "…do I want to ask what you did to Lucille or no�� also why do you have a account…"

Nala: "I've been watching you guys and figured out how to use one of these things! Anyways.. yeah, you don't want to ask what happened. But trust me, if you asked her, she'd have a more violent reaction.

All I'll say is, back then, I didn't have a good perception of time and mistook one of her friends for somebody else, and I may have, uhh.. traumatized her and another friend to "get revenge" on the wrong person"

Yvonne: "NALA..."

Nala: "I think all three of them are crazy now! Or, horrible people. Or both!"

Yvonne: "Wow. *slow clap*"

Nala: "I'm.. not sure why I told you that. If anyone, Fennel is the sort of person I'd confess this stuff too. Hmm."

After this, Yvonne runs back to her cabin, and tells Fennel about it.

Now, as you can probably guess, these two events are linked. on a totally unrelated note here's some art of a random girl on a kayak

—

Holy fucking shit she has angst

“While Nala is a deceptive asshole, she has the ability and enough humanity to care about people. That being said, her way to show care is by hurting those who hurt the people she cares about. Also, she is not good at showing she cares about someone, either that or she doesn't realise she's hurting and scaring Fennel.” - sent by me in the ooc GC, shared with other CH&T roleplayers.

There is no public information on her life just yet, but all I can say is she used to be a kind person, when she was alive, but somebody hurt her. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was on purpose, but either way, her anger made her into a morally wrong “person”.

—

Fun facts!

Nala is a polyamorous lesbian

She "canonically" listens to Will Wood and Miracle Musical

She's VERY inspired by the Hawaii: Part II album

She's Indian

"Cervidae - a large family of ruminant mammals" not sure why I gave her that as a surname but fuck it we ball

In the first image shown on this post, there is a blonde woman. Nala was MADLY in love with her but the mf had a husband

She sees Fennel as a sort of grandchild

On an unrelated note, Nala and Fennel have very similar features

Nala has met Lucille before! Lucille hates her guts!

—

She's terrified of penguins. Yeah that's why she hates the macaroni penguins

in her whole entity form, she's over 7ft tall BUT in her human/disguise form, she's 5'1. yeah. Nala was that short when she was alive

“The Decepted who became The Deception”

—

Post created 20/3/24

Edit 21/3/24 : added another WIP of the art below, added a "fun facts" section

Edit 24/3/24 : added the finished version of the art above

Edit 25/3/24 : added more lore to the "how powerful is she?" section, added art to the same section, added more fun facts

Edit 14/4/24 : added another fun fact (I'm not gonna update that every time)