#andrew is determined here

[itsagutthing]

top ten theater performances of 2024

eden espinosa in lempicka

audra mcdonald in gypsy

brandon uranowitz in ragtime

kelli o'hara in the south pacific reunion

sarah pidgeon in stereophonic

zoe winters in walden

allison russell in hadestown

grace mclean in suffs

jennifer simard in death becomes her

shoshana bean singing pawn it all in hell's kitchen

[odoraful]

𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒

even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene

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ZAYNE ⟡

Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.

The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.

Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.

Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.

Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.

“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”

Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.

“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.

You nodded. “Of course.”

As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.

Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”

Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.

“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”

At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.

“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”

“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.

He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”

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“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.

You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”

That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.

In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.

“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”

Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.

“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.

“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.

Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.

“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.

Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.

“Yes, everything is perfect now.”

SYLUS ⟡

There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.

“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”

Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.

“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.

“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.

Luke resignedly sighed.

“They wanted someone to–”

“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.

He turned and gave a pointed glare to his twin brother. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.

Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”

“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”

“So, they invited us instead!”

Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.

“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”

The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,

“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”

They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.

“And–”

Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.

“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”

“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.

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Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.

Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.

He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.

Sylus sat up in his bed. 

He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.

Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.

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Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.

He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”  

“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.

Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.

“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”

You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.

“I just bought this today.”

The door swung open, and you stepped outside.

“How do I look?”

Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.

Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.

“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.

Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.

“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”

You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”

XAVIER ⟡

It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.

There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.

“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”

“Green tea, please,” you replied.

“Warm or cold?”

“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”

Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.

“Morning Y/N!”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.

He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.

To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.

“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”

Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.

“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.

Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.

“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”

The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.

Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.

“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.

You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.

“No, no. It’s right here.”

He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.

The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.

“Xavier?” you called in surprise.

Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.

“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.

With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”

The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”

Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.

“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”

He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.

“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”

It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.

What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.

“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.

Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”

Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.

“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.

“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”

He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish. 

“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.

You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.

“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”

In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.

The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.

“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.

“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”

“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.

From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.

The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.

The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.

He cleared his throat loudly.

You spun around at the familiar voice.

“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”

He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.

“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”

You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,

“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”

As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.

Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?

Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”

“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.

Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.

“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”

Rafayel’s pout disappeared.

“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”

Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.

His lack of reaction made you flush.

“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”

The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.

Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”

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[dorothylarouge]

US Presidents as Dril Tweets

George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it

John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.

Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts

James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"

John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit

Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!

Martin Van Buren: Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Candles $3,600

Utility $150

someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying

William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good

John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this

James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom

Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying

Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...

Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin

James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...

Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"

Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,

James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now

Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark

Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site

Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc

William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!

Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*

Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer

Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me

Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals

Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud

Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me

Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume

Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed

John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"

Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups

Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right

Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again

Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT

Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,

George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,

Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line

Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.

ME: I agree

Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm

[bullet-prooflove]

Do Over Day: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fadeinsol

Companion piece to:

Crazy (NSFW) - Pope's always been crazy but now he's also a man in love.

Tomorrow - Pope's family always fuck up the good in his life.

Do Over Day starts with oral sex, with Pope’s face buried between your thighs because he’s determined to make up for the sins of the previous day. There has never been a man as dedicated to your pleasure as him, his pursuit of your ecstasy is relentless, a pathological need to ruin you for any other man.

His tongue traces delicate circles over your clit as his fingers press against that sweet spot, the one that makes you say his name in that pretty way of yours.

You don’t call him Pope, you call him Andy. It makes him feel normal, like he’s a man worthy of your time, your affection.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, grasping his dark curls and that sensation, it has him grinding his dick against the mattress. He chases your hitched breathes, those loud moans all the way to nirvana, until you’re coming all over his face and then he laps up that honey like it’s his birthday all over again, savouring every drop of your rapture.

He kisses a trail back up your body, through that khaki t-shirt of his you wore to bed last night until he settles between you thighs. Your hands smooth down his back, caressing the scars etched into his skin before delving underneath the elastic of his boxers.

“No.” He mumbles against your collarbone and you still your exploration because it’s too much sometimes, especially after everything he’s been through with prison. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh Andy.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his temple. “Are you still punishing yourself for yesterday?”

He doesn’t speak, instead he huffs as he buries his face into the curve of your throat, his body draped over you like a weighted blanket.

“You don’t have to do that with me.” You murmur into his ear, your teeth grazing over his ear lobe, tugging lightly and he arches against you as a wildfire erupts through his nerve endings. “You don’t have to pay penance or make up for anything, you just have to be you, the man I love.”

“Say it again.” He groans, his cock leaking at the sound of those words.

“I love you Andy.” You murmur as he shoves down his boxers, his dick springing free. “I love how fierce you are, how passionate, how you love with your whole heart…”

He enters you then and the noise you make, it’s like a goddamn symphony in his ears as he fills you with every inch of him. Your thighs lock around his waist, drawing him deeper and his mouth captures yours, swallowing down your moans as he begins to thrust. Every single stroke feels like heaven, every second inside you a peaceful bliss. Your hand seeks out his, fingers entwining and it’s that moment of connection that tips him over the edge, that thread of intimacy.

He comes with you, his release spilling inside you in white hot spurts as you climax all over his cock. You’re beautiful, in that moment you always are. All flushed skin and bright eyes, like he’s staring into paradise itself.

“You know I can’t say I love you.” He whispers, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. Those words, they’re too loaded to leave his mouth, they’re the ones he’s forced to say to his mother, unwillingly torn from his lips despite the damage she’s done to him, the monster she’s turned him into. “But I will tell you that you complete me, that there has never been a person on this earth that I have cared for more than you.”

“I know.” You promise him, his head comes to rest on your chest, his ear pressed against your heart. Your fingers comb lightly through his curls and he sighs contently, listening to the reassuring thud. “Trust me Andy I know.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[foxesscramble]

in honor of the holidays here's some foxes and co going home for the holidays (set sometime in the future)

Somewhere in Wisconsin:

Matt Boyd just won his last game before their winter break officially started.

Dan and Matt make their rounds to say goodbye to everyone as the team dispersed to various cities.

They head out and grab a taxi, making a quick stop by their house to grab their luggage.

They’re headed home for the holidays.

Back to where their family was gathering.

Back to South Carolina.

They were unbelievably excited to see everyone.

They had a secret that they were finally telling the foxes when they got them all together.

Dan cradled her growing belly and smiled as she looked out of the window.

Somewhere in Colorado:

Renee compiled a list of care advice for her neighbor who is petsitting for her while she’s in South Carolina.

It’s a hefty list and Renee is once again grateful for her kind, elderly neighbor who had volunteered herself immediately after hearing Renee was going to be traveling.

She made her rounds saying goodbye to all her pets before grabbing her suitcase and keys and heading to the door.

She sent a text to Allison to let her know she was about to hit the road.

Text sent she said one last goodbye at the door before locking up behind her.

South Carolina, here we come.

Somewhere in New York:

Allison carefully packed her clothes into her bag.

Had she possibly packed too much for her two-week trip? Probably, but she hasn’t seen anyone in a while, and she likes to look good.

Allison checked her phone for the time before grabbing her suitcases and putting them by the door.

She did one last walk-through to make sure she didn’t forget anything before turning all her lights off and grabbing her luggage.

She closed the door and locked it before making her way out of her apartment. 

She sent a text to Renee to let her know she was leaving and got in her car.

Somewhere in Germany:

“Nicky, Liebling, if you don’t get your ass down here we’re going to miss our flight!” 

Nicky swears as he collects his bags in a hurry, his feet pounding down the stairs of his and Erik’s apartment.

Germany had done Nicky a lot of good but he was undeniably excited to head back to the States.

Back to his family.

“I’m ready! I swear!” 

Erik laughed and herded him out the door.

They made it through the security check with 15 minutes to get to their boarding area.

They laughed as they ran through the airport, their luggage flipping and bumping into the back of their legs.

They were the last people on the plane, but they made it.

Nicky was going home.

Somewhere in California:

Kevin lugs both suitcases into the trunk of his car before he helps Amalia into the back seat and gets her buckled into her car seat.

They were driving all the way to South Carolina because Amalia had recently become deathly afraid of planes.

Settling in for the two-day drive, they'd barely made it 30 minutes into the trip before Amalia determined it had been a long time and it was time for snacks.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer to all things holy, Kevin pulled into a gas station to get snacks and have a bathroom break.

He knew the drive would be rough but 'Grandpa Coach' and 'Gran Abby', as Amalia had taken to calling her grandparents (maybe Kevin should have stopped calling them by name), would be more than willing to take Amalia when they got home.

Amalia spent the rest of the 36 hour drive rotating between excitably talking about seeing her aunts and uncles, singing the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of her little 4 year old lungs, and sleeping.

Somewhere between Kansas and South Carolina:

"If you touch the stereo one more time, Josten, you're losing your hand."

Hands held over the console.

Hand kisses.

Smoke breaks.

Lots of snack breaks.

Neil gets fruit cups and Andrew gets candy.

Their cats joined them for the trip.

Sir sits in Neil's lap the entire ride but King gets the zoomies every 30 miles.

Andrew has to repeatedly remove him from his feet so he stops getting close to the pedals.

They call Bee halfway through the drive to make sure she’ll be there when they get there. She and Andrew chat while Neil takes a bathroom break.

When Neil comes back Andrew’s frame has relaxed a bit further. 

They were both excited to see everyone but that didn’t take away the anxiety of having that big of a group together again.

But the foxes were family and they couldn’t wait to see their family.

Somewhere in North Carolina:

"Okay, and you packed the girls' blankets?"

Katelyn and Aaron may resemble headless chickens trying to get their 13 month old twins together and ready.

Katelyn has been tasked with the girls' things and Aaron has been tasked with actually getting the girls in the car.

One of the twins is passed out in their car seat and the other is sobbing and throwing a fit.

Aaron is trying to calm her down and Katelyn is driving.

It took about an hour to get her to stop crying and when she did Aaron took a deep breath and fell back in his seat.

He rested his head back and closed his eyes, letting the quiet sounds of the road soothe him.

That calmness lasts for a good minute before Katelyn lets out a loud, FUCK!

"I forgot our suitcase!"

Somewhere in South Carolina:

Abby fluffs the decorative pillow for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. 

She’s already vacuumed and swept every room in their house. She’s gotten all the spare bedrooms ready and taken out all of the blowup mattresses. Most of the kids were staying with them with the exception of those that had kids.

They hadn’t all been together in so long and it felt imperative that the house looked good for everyone.

Wymack came up behind her and gently took the pillow from her hands before setting it back on the couch.

“The place looks amazing, Abby.” 

Abby turned around and shot him a doubtful look.

Wymack laughed roughly and leaned forward to place a careful kiss to her forehead. 

“They’re just going to be happy to be here. I don’t think they’d care if it looked like a pigsty in here. Everything is okay, and you know why?” 

Abby leaned her weight against Wymack’s chest. “Why?”

Wymack pulled back slightly so he could send her a fond smile.

“Our kids are coming home."

[miscellaneousbullshit]

The thing about being a drug addict is, you never forget the feeling.

Even though he's been clean for years Aaron remembers the bliss of heroine like it was singing through his veins yesterday. The sizzle of cracker dust on his tongue only ever makes him long for something stronger, something that would really hype him up. 

And so, when he sluggishly pulls himself into consciousness, the first thing he notices is the pleasant heaviness of the opioids running through his bloodstream.

God he’d fucking missed opiates. For all he likes to party, most of the time his drugs were about escaping, and his favourite escape has always been sleep. When real sleep first became a pipe dream, around the time mom met her piece of shit boyfriend Jared, the false twilight he found from a handful of oxycodone or the needle of a syringe were a decent enough substitute, a heavy blanket muffling everything and anything, but especially pain. And in the time after mom found Jared and before he found Andrew, pain was something that was never in short supply for Aaron. 

He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to take opiates anymore though. At least, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken them willingly since he nearly died coming off of them and everything else on the floor of his childhood bathroom. Which begs the question- why are they thrumming through his veins right now? 

With a herculean effort he manages to lift his eyelids open, something the depressants in his bloodstream really don’t want him to do. He’s half tempted to ride out the high while he can, enjoy this little trip and deal with the inevitable fallout later, but if this really is some kind of relapse he has to drag himself somewhere with a lock so Andrew doesn’t actually murder him when he finds out. 

The sterile white sheets and dozens of monitors surrounding him however, make it pretty obvious that a relapse is probably not why he’s currently high as a kite. The bandages wrapped around his torso seal the deal. 

So he hasn’t relapsed- at least not by choice. Perfect. And he’s still high anyway. Awesome. 

(In a faraway corner of his mind he wonders how bad his injuries must be for them to risk giving him such serious pain meds, especially considering Andrew is his emergency contact and most definitely would have told the doctors everything he’s ever taken and the risk, risk, riskiness of giving it to him again. The rest of him is still too blissed out and heavy to care.)

Speaking of Andrew, shouldn’t he be here? If there’s one thing Andrew doesn’t trust it’s doctors, and no matter how complicated things are between them and as much as Aaron despises admitting it, Andrew does spend an exorbitant amount of time trying in his weird, fucked up, therapy-may-never-fully-cure-this way to look after him. Also, as previously established, he’s Aaron’s emergency contact. Whatever happened to him- hit by a bus? Skydiving accident? Accidentally startling Neil? Aaron’s still kind of fuzzy on the details- Andrew should probably be here, at the very least to sign some paperwork. 

Right?

Should, being the key word, because even through his half blurry vision and drug addled mind, Aaron quickly establishes that Andrew is not here. 

It shouldn’t feel as bad as it does. 

Aaron has been let down by Andrew before, dozens of times. It’s not like this is anything new, even if it does feel a lot bigger than Andrew bailing on lunch plans or choosing Neil over him even in the stupid arguments. But as much as he’s tried to keep his distance, much as he tried not to care, the undeniable truth about Andrew Minyard is that he’d crawled into a corner of Aaron’s heart the second Aaron found out he existed, and he’d lived there ever since, even if sometimes it felt like the tiny Andrew that lived there seemed determined to tear that corner of Aaron’s heart apart again and again and again, for no reason other than he could, because he was trapped there forever and no matter how hard he tried or how hard Andrew fought, he couldn’t ever get him out.

So it hurts, waking up alone, or it would if the drugs didn’t numb his emotional pains almost as well as his physical ones. 

Fuck he loves drugs. Why did he ever stop taking them?

Even still, there’s a sharp sting of betrayal fighting it’s way under the blanket of apathy, and behind it a wave of loneliness and self loathing that Aaron knows will crash over him the second the drugs start to wear off. He is and has only ever been the kind of bitter, lonely creature everyone eventually leaves behind. His dad did. His childhood friends did. 

His mom did.

He thinks of the last time he was in the hospital, a true hospital, for aches and pains that weren’t caused by chemistry and his fucked up brain, back when he was ten. He’d been alone in the hospital then too, had held one of the nurses hands and looked away while the doctors reset his broken arm because mom had grown bored after she half assed filling out his intake paperwork and had wandered away to the tiny hospital gift shop half an hour before he’d been called back. 

This kind of feels like that moment all over again, except this time he’s hurt far worse than a broken arm and Andrew hasn’t bothered to show up at all. 

Stupid, he chides himself. He and Andrew don’t cook each other breakfast when they’re in the the same room. Why did he honestly believe he’d show up for him at the hospital?

The knowledge of it hurts so much it shoots through the numbing of the drugs, the little Andrew in his heart tearing gleefully at Aaron’s muscle fibres like he’s trying to tear him apart from the inside out.  

If it hurts this badly now, it’s going to hurt so much more when the drugs wear off.

Maybe he shouldn’t let them. They’ll keep him on a prescription for the first few weeks after he gets out of here, if the bandages and what he can glean from the monitors are anything to judge by. And after that…well, he can try hitting up some of his old high school contacts. If Andrew doesn’t care enough to be here then Aaron no longer cares about their deal and he certainly doesn’t care to face the heartbreak that comes with loving someone who can’t show him that he loves him back, even if he somehow does. Better to choke it, strangle it, drown it out, to stuff that pain and the ever present loneliness deep and bury it under the false comfort of chemical oblivion, than feel it and feel it and feel it again. 

“-telling you his fingers moved, I’m not fucking lying.”

A familiar voice carries through the door and Aaron has just enough time to think, ‘oh’ and experience a muffled wave of regret mixed with something he’ll forever deny is gratitude, before Andrew is bursting in, practically shoving some poor nurse ahead of him.

“See?” Andrew gestures sharply, only the tiniest bit rattled out of usual unflappable demeanour, evident from his slightly raised voice and the way he kept folding and unfolding a piece of notebook paper obsessively. 

“Oh,” the nurses eye’s widen in disbelief, despite the fact that Andrew is no liar, “Mr.Minyard, how are you feeling?”

Aaron thinks for a second.

“High.”

“I meant more how are you feeling physically? Any pain?”

“Nah,” he manages a slight shake of his head, but can’t manage to look her in the eye when Andrew’s gaze is boring into him, icy and furoious, “th’ drugs are too good. ‘M feelin ’like twelfth grade again.”

“Shut up.” Andrew’s voice lashes like a whip and Aaron decides to shut up. He doesn’t want Andrew to leave again, and he also doesn’t want Andrew to kill him, and both of those seem like very real possibilities at the moment. 

So he ignores the rest of the nurses questions until she gives up with an eye roll, and tolerates her adjusting his IV and oxygen monitor. He winces as she helps him into a semi sitting position, the movement finally jostling  his injuries enough to send a sharp stab of pain through the haziness of the drugs, and his pained groan seems to be Andrew’s breaking point, because he orders her out with a sharp ‘get out’ and she doesn’t bother protesting, just lets them know the doctor will be by soon and closes the door behind her with an annoyed snap.

Then it’s just him and Andrew alone in a hospital room, and Andrew’s eyes are so cold Aaron genuinely thinks for a moment that he might try and smother him with a pillow.

They stare at each other for a while, Andrew furious and Aaron so stupidly comforted and happy to see him it’s actually embarrassing. But he’s not alone at the moment, doesn’t have to worry about saying or doing anything stupid while on the drugs because Andrew is here and he’d never let that happen. 

Finally, Andrew drops into the chair at his bedside with a sharp exhale. 

“You fucking idiot.”

“Wha’ happened?”

The question causes a fresh wave of anger to flit across Andrew’s face before he schools his expression once again. 

“Car accident.”

Oh. That made sense. Too much sense really. No wonder Andrew was so worked up.

Serves him right though. At least know he knows how Aaron felt.

Andrew’s still fidgeting, folding and unfolding that piece of paper, an uncharacteristic tick. The creases are so worn it’s a miracle it hasn’t fallen apart yet. 

He’s opening his mouth to ask how long he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, when Andrew’s gip slips the tiniest bit and Aaron gets his first real look at the paper in his hands. 

It pulls him up short. 

“You kept it.”

Andrew follows his gaze to the folded up paper in his hands and scowls, quickly stuffing it back in his pocket as if by doing so fast enough he could pretend Aaron hadn’t seen it. 

“Shut up.”

“You kept it,” Aaron repeats, and even in his drugged addled mind the fact that all these years Andrew  still has the first and only letter he’d ever written him, feels significant, “why?”

Andrew is quiet for a moment. 

“Because you gave it to me.” 

He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't have to.

When Aaron falls asleep a few minutes later, not a single piece of him feels alone.

[padfootagain]

Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Pairing : Hozier x fem!reader

Professor! AU

Warnings: hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, no smut but suggestive scenes so 18+ only

Chapter 1 : 'And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately'

Chapter 2 : 'Through me the way to the City of Woe'

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Chapter 6 : ‘I’ll lie here and learn how, over their ground, trees make a long shadow and a light sound’

Chapter 7 : 'And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.'

Chapter 8 : 'I hope she never learns how to peel oranges'

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Chapter 10 : '[I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea'

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Chapter 12 : 'Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again'

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Chapter 14: ‘Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery’

Chapter 15: ‘He’s bored- I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets in water?’

Chapter 16 : ‘Only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies’

Chapter 17 : ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Chapter 20 : 'My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you'

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Chapter 22 : ‘And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere’

Chapter 23 : 'Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest'

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Chapter 34 : ‘One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.’

Chapter 35 : ‘Love comes quietly, finally’

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Chapter 37 : ‘I found the other half above the pillow where you lay’

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Chapter 47: ‘To whom I owe the leaping delight that quickens my senses in our wakingtime and the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime’

Chapter 48 : ‘It’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee nuzzling like that into the blouse of the rose’

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

Chapter 50 : ‘And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.’

Chapter 51 : ‘Here begins a new life’

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

[three--rings]

What we need is a new social movement. Not a political one. An artistic one.

We need people to make rebellion cool again. To idealize free thinking, free loving, free choices about our bodies.

We need influencers on the opposite side from the Andrew Tates and Manosphere.

We need music and fashion and film glorifying freedoms that oppose right wing authoritarian ideals. That embrace feminism and queerness and being a freak.

And we need a unifying identity for all these things. We need an identity like hippies, punk rock. The right is so good at coming together and the left is far too good at fracturing.

Modern media and social media companies have divided us all up into smaller and smaller social circles. Micro-identities. "Youth" used to be a social group. "Voice of a generation" was a thing. Now everyone is expected to be the voice of like...30 people.

What I'm saying here is just what I keep thinking about. What is the alternative to the tradwives and the Alpha Male podcasters? A bunch of intellectual politics nerds? Yeah, I mean thanks and all, but we need excitement. We need art.

Things are going to get worse and worse. The right is going to be selling limitations and restrictions and we need to be selling the alternative.

So if you're an artist, a writer, a musician, a filmmaker, an internet personality...get together with everyone you know who is also creative. Start talking with each other about how you create rebellious art, and how you create community in that art.

There's so much emotion floating around, so much fear and dread and exhaustion and we need to channel all that into art. It's the only way we win. Art is always how we make progress. But if you're making it alone, it doesn't build steam, it doesn't become a movement. You have to gather together. You don't all have to make the same thing. But you do need to have the same spirit. One determined to uplift what is good and fight what is evil.

Make art, people. Create an identity from it. Welcome everyone who is lost and scared. Lonely, sad, scared people get sucked into right wing circles because there's no alternative. Be the alternative.

[growthhyp]

An accidental muscle theft here, hi 🫣.

Now, im a 50 years old stepdad i wanted to buy a gift for my stepson maybe those black boxers can work.

The Black Boxers

The warm, early autumn sun shone down on the cluttered garage sale, casting a golden glow on the assortment of forgotten treasures and knick-knacks. You, a 50-year-old man with a heart that had learned the meaning of true love and loss, meandered through the labyrinth of tables, each one groaning under the weight of discarded memories. The air was filled with the aroma of dust and the distant chuckles of neighbors swapping stories and bartering deals. The leaves whispered a soft lullaby as they danced in the gentle breeze, a poignant reminder of how life's seasons change.

Growing up, you had been the shy, unassuming boy, the one who often went unnoticed by the fairer sex. Yet, in your 30s, the universe had thrown you a lifeline in the form of the most enchanting woman you had ever laid eyes on—your future wife and Andrew's mother. The moment you saw her, something inside you had ignited. With trembling hands and a racing heart, you had mustered the courage to approach her, and to your astonishment, she had looked at you with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Her acceptance of your feelings had been like a breath of fresh air, a new beginning you hadn't dared to dream of.

And now, with her gone, Andrew had become the very essence of your existence, the reason you woke up every morning and worked tirelessly at your job as a restaurant server. The bond between the two of you had grown stronger over the years, despite the stark contrast in your physical appearances. You had never been one to boast about your physique, but Andrew—his mother's son—was a towering testament to athleticism, a force to be reckoned with on the football field. He was a young man you were incredibly proud of, even though his interests had taken him on a path far removed from your own.

The muscular frame that Andrew now flaunted was a stark reminder of his biological father, a man you had never met but had heard tales of. His mother had spoken fondly of his athletic prowess, how he could command the attention of any room with his sheer presence. Yet, as you watched Andrew from the sidelines of his games, you felt a strange kinship with the man you had never known. It was as if the genetic legacy of strength and power had skipped a generation, landing squarely in the hands—or rather, the muscular embrace—of your stepson.

You approached the garage sale with a sense of purpose, knowing that Andrew's birthday was fast approaching. Despite the meager wages from your job as a server, you were determined to find something that would bring a smile to his face. You rummaged through piles of t-shirts and shorts, hoping for something that screamed 'football' without being too cliché. And there, amidst the sea of discarded goods, the muscular man emerged, a beacon of hope with his table of sporting goods.

His biceps bulged as he folded a faded jersey, drawing your eyes to his sculpted physique. "What would you like to purchase?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant. You felt a twinge of nostalgia for your youthful aspirations, the days when you had dreamed of muscles like his. "Actually, I'm looking for something for my son," you replied, trying not to betray the hint of longing in your voice. "He's on the college football varsity team, so I'm not sure what to pick."

The muscular man's eyes lit up with understanding, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He reached beneath the table, producing a black boxer with a subtle silver trim. "This," he said, holding it up with a flourish, "is perfect for someone in his position." The fabric looked durable, the kind that could withstand the rigors of athletic activity. "I guarantee he'll love it," he added with a wink. You nodded, hopeful that this simple piece of clothing could somehow bridge the gap between you and Andrew, remind him that you knew what it was like to be a man, to strive for something greater.

With the exchange of a few crumpled bills, the black boxer became yours to give. You tucked it away safely in your bag, feeling a sense of triumph. It wasn't just any old gift; it was something that screamed 'I support you' in a way that only a fellow sports enthusiast could understand. As you walked away from the table, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for the life this stranger led—his body a canvas for power and dominance. But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the excitement of giving Andrew something that might just make his day.

The sun had set by the time you got home, your mind buzzing with anticipation for tomorrow. You wrapped the black boxer in simple, yet elegant, paper, careful not to crease or damage the fabric that now held such promise. You placed it on Andrew's bed, a silent sentinel of the transformation that awaited him. When the morning light streamed through the blinds, he found it, his eyes lighting up like a child's on Christmas day. "Thanks, Dad," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. You felt a swell of pride, knowing that despite the challenges of your past, you had managed to make a real connection with the young man you had vowed to raise as your own.

That night, the garage sale's mysterious magic began to unfold. As Andrew donned the black boxers, a strange sensation washed over him. His muscles, already formidable, began to swell and pulse with newfound power. He felt a surge of strength and vitality that seemed to emanate from the very fabric that clung to his growing physique. He flexed his biceps in amazement, watching them balloon before his very eyes. His chest broadened, the crevice of his six-pack deepening with each grunt of exertion. His legs thickened, the veins becoming more pronounced as if they were trying to escape the confines of his skin. His cock grew too, standing tall and proud, demanding his attention.

Andrew couldn't believe the transformation. He had always been athletic, but this was something else entirely. The black boxers had unlocked a potential within him that was both thrilling and slightly disconcerting. He tried to contain his excitement, not wanting to alert you to the sudden changes. But as he jerked off, his mind racing with thoughts of unbridled power and virility, he couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria. His moans and grunts of pleasure filled the quiet house, echoing down the hall to your own room, though you remained oblivious to the cause, attributing the sounds to his natural development.

As the weeks passed, Andrew's football performance soared to new heights. Coaches and teammates alike took notice of the burgeoning beast on the field, his aggression and dominance becoming the talk of the town. Yet, off the field, his personality had begun to shift, mirroring the changes in his physique. The once shy and gentle giant was now a cocky, arrogant presence that seemed to command attention wherever he went. You couldn't help but worry, though you brushed it off, chalking it up to the pressures of college life and the natural progression of a young man's hormones.

One fateful day, while doing his laundry, you stumbled upon the torn black boxer in the trash. The fabric looked as if it had been stretched to its limits, the seams strained by the sheer power of the muscles beneath. You picked it up, examining the damage with a furrowed brow. "I don't need it anymore," Andrew had casually said when you asked him about it. "It doesn't fit anymore because of my muscles." You nodded, understanding his need for new clothes but feeling a twinge of disappointment that your thoughtful gift had been discarded so quickly.

But your thrifty nature wouldn't let you throw away something that could still be used. You took the boxer in your hands, turning it over to assess the damage. The tear was small, but it had clearly been under immense pressure. You decided to fix it, pulling out your sewing kit from the drawer and carefully threading the needle. With meticulous precision, you stitched the fabric back together, making sure that it would hold against the relentless growth of Andrew's body. After all, the boxer had cost you a pretty penny, and it was only right that it served its purpose for as long as possible.

The following morning, you stepped out of the shower, feeling the cool tiles against your bare feet. You grabbed the repaired black boxer, noticing how baggy it had become. It was almost comical, but you shrugged it off, sliding it on. You were about to leave for your shift at the restaurant when you felt a strange warmth envelop you, a heat that grew more intense with each passing second. The tremor started in your fingers, a gentle vibration that grew to a quake, rushing through your body. You stumbled backward, the world around you a blur, and fell onto your bed with a thud. Your body convulsed as if you were being electrified, muscles contracting and expanding without your consent.

On the other side of the house, Andrew stirred in his sleep, the tremor jolting him awake. "What the fuck is happening?" he whispered, his voice barely above a croak.

As you lay on the bed, the tremor grew stronger, your muscles stretching and swelling with an intensity that was both painful and exhilarating. You watched in awe as your biceps grew, the two heads bulging outwards to form the peak of power you had always envied in others. The veins on your forearms became more pronounced, the brachioradialis flexing with each involuntary contraction. Your triceps, once hidden beneath layers of flab, began to take shape, forming the horseshoe that signaled true upper body strength.

Your chest expanded, the pectoral muscles pushing against your skin, creating a broad, intimidating silhouette. The growth was not limited to your arms and torso; your back muscles, the lats, began to spread wider, pulling your shoulders back and giving you the illusion of a smaller waist. The deltoids grew round and firm, capping your shoulders and making them seem even broader from the side. Your traps, once unnoticed, started to thicken, lending a sense of power to your neck and upper back that you had never experienced before.

The tremor grew more intense as the muscles in your stomach contracted and expanded, sculpting your abs into a defined six-pack. The lines between each abdominal muscle grew deeper, your stomach becoming flatter, more chiseled. The transformation was not just in your upper body; your legs also began to bulk up. Your quads stretched the fabric of the black boxers, the muscles becoming more pronounced as they grew. The hamstrings on the back of your thighs started to take shape, balancing the powerful look of your legs and contributing to your newfound athletic appeal.

In stark contrast, Andrew's body began to experience the opposite transformation. As the night wore on, his muscles deflated, the power and definition that had once made him the envy of his peers slowly dissipating. His arms, once bulging with the promise of victory, grew leaner, the veins retreating beneath his skin. His chest, once a bastion of strength, flattened, the pectoral muscles shrinking back into obscurity. His back, which had once boasted an impressive 'wingspan', now appeared narrow, the lats retreating to leave a less defined silhouette. The cockiness in his stride was replaced with a tentative gait as the very essence of his athletic identity was siphoned away.

You watched the mirror, your newfound confidence surging through your veins like a potent drug. Each flex of your newly-honed biceps sent waves of pleasure through your body, a testament to your newfound power. The tremor had subsided, leaving you in the aftermath of your transformation. You felt alive in a way you hadn't since your youth, a fiery determination burning in your eyes as you surveyed the landscape of your new physique. Your mind raced with thoughts of dominance and conquest, a stark departure from the timidity that had once been your hallmark.

Andrew's transformation, however, was a mirror image of your own. The once towering pillar of strength was now a shell of his former self, his muscles retreating to reveal the soft, submissive boy you had met all those years ago. His shoulders slumped, his chest deflated, and his eyes held a quiet desperation that tugged at your heartstrings. The arrogance that had so recently consumed him was gone, replaced with a shyness that seemed to shrink him before your very eyes.

You felt the urge to reach out, to comfort him, but something held you back—something primal and unyielding. Your hand found its way to the bulge in your own black boxers, and you began to stroke yourself, the fabric now taut against your newfound size. It was as if the very essence of Andrew's vitality was being transferred to you, filling you with a power that was both intoxicating and slightly terrifying. Your cock grew harder, longer, and you couldn't resist the urge to take it in hand, to revel in the sensation of your newfound virility.

Hour after hour passed, your strokes becoming more vigorous as the transformation neared its peak. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you edged closer to climax. The room grew thick with the scent of musk and male power, a scent that seemed to fuel your desire. Your eyes remained locked on the mirror, watching as the last vestiges of your old self slipped away, replaced by the sculpted physique of a man in his prime. The tremors grew less frequent, your body now a finely-tuned instrument of power.

As you reached the precipice, you felt your cock pulse in your hand, swollen and heavy. With one final, desperate pull, you erupted, your cum shooting through the air in ropes of white-hot pleasure. The release was more intense than any you had experienced in your life, a testament to the changes the black boxers had wrought.

In the quiet that followed, the only sound was the slowing of your breath and the steady drip of cum onto the floor. Your body felt alive, charged with an energy that seemed to resonate through every fiber of your being. The tremors had ceased, and your transformation was complete. You looked down to see the once-baggy black boxers now stretched tightly over your massive thighs, the fabric clinging to your bulging muscles like a second skin.

Andrew's transformation had been swift and dramatic. His cock, once a symbol of his newfound virility, had shrunken back to a more modest size. The deflation was as sudden as the inflation had been, leaving him looking slightly lost amidst the sheets. His breath grew shallow and his eyes closed once more, his body succumbing to exhaustion from the ordeal. His sleep was deep, a stark contrast to the restlessness that had plagued him since the onset of his own transformation.

You, on the other hand, felt more alive than ever before. The tremors had subsided, leaving you with a body that was the embodiment of masculine power. You pushed yourself up from the bed, the mattress groaning under the weight of your newfound muscular frame. The black boxers that had once been baggy on you now clung to your body like a second skin, highlighting every bulging contour. You took a deep breath, feeling your newfound chest muscles expand, filling your lungs with confidence.

Walking over to the mirror, you couldn't help but admire the reflection staring back at you. The softness of your former body had been replaced with a sculpted physique that would make any bodybuilder proud. Each flex of your bicep sent a shiver of excitement down your spine, the peak of the muscle threatening to rip through the fabric. You turned to the side, admiring the 'V-taper' of your back, the lats spreading like wings that had been unfurled for the first time. Your shoulders looked broader, more defined, and your waist, once thick with age, had cinched in, giving you the appearance of a chiseled statue.

As you continued to flex, the reality of your new life as a professional bodybuilder sank in. The countless hours of training, the strict diet regimen, and the dedication to sculpting your body had paid off. You had always been proud of Andrew's academic achievements, his intelligence a stark contrast to your own physical prowess. The scholarship he had earned was a testament to his hard work and a relief to your wallet. Now, as you stood before the mirror, you felt a sense of pride in your own right, a pride that had been missing since you had last felt truly strong.

[herpsandbirds]

trick or treat! got any cool lizard facts?

Here are some facts about one of my favorite lizards! Happy Halloween!



Komodo Dragon (Varanus komodoensis), family Varanidae, found on Koomodo Island and other nearby islands in Indonesia

Venomous.

ENDANGERED.

It was once thought that Komodos subdue prey with a heavy and noxious array of mouth bacteria that infect bite wounds of prey after being bitten, but... it was never really determined scientifically if that's what was happening (conclusively, at least).

It turned out, they're venomous! Research was done in 2009 that found a primitive venom gland at the back of the mouth.

This is that largest species of lizard in the world, growing to a maximum total length of up to ~ 3 m (~10 ft.) long and a max. weight of up to 8~ 81 kg (180 lbs) (in the wild).

Photograph by Andrew Yates

[elliespectacular]

Do you still have that Jellicle name generator saved anywhere? Some friends and I used it for our OCs and it was an absolute blast!

The name I got was Callio the convivial cat, which is short for Calliope, who I played in Xanadu. She has a whole costume and everything now!

Even if you don't have it anymore, tysm for making it ;-;

Xanadu mention! Also I do still have it saved! This one is revised a little and I might make more changes later, but here it is in text form:

Jellicle Name Generator

This will give you a name that is relatively in-line with the naming conventions seen in Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot and later adapted into the musical Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber - and unlike those shitty "last name and your birth month" name generators, this one won't doxx you in the process.

Before we begin, a bit of terminology we'll be using: - Portmanteau: Turning multiple words into one word linked by a sound or letter. Compelling Television = Compellevision. Punk Squid = Squnk - Smoosh: Combine words by simply removing the space and (optionally) changing the word positions. Country Jester = countryjester - Prefix: Goes before the name, like Mr. or Captain - Suffix: Goes after the name, like Jr. or The Great - Cat-like term: Something associated with cats. Meow, Whisker, Bell, Claw, Scratch, etc.

FIRST: Roll a D20 to determine your base name

An uncommon person’s first name

First syllable of a common last name + a unit of measurement. Portmanteau 'em.

Short, dangerous noun + a non-dangerous profession. Smoosh 'em.

Two Latin words. Portmanteau 'em.

A simple present-tense verb + sophisticated person's first name. Smoosh 'em.

Cat-like term + sophisticated person's first name. Smoosh 'em.

Combine two short nouns, then add "-er" "-ie" or "-est" to the end.

Think of an actor you like. Shorten their first name to its shortest nickname.

A medical term spelled incorrectly.

A food you liked as a kid + a pretentious word. Smoosh 'em.

A figure of legend/myth. Remove one syllable and any spaces.

An older person's first name that isn't common today.

Last name of a historical figure + a silly word. Portmanteau 'em.

A kids' name with 2 or more syllables + that name again without the first syllable + an onomatopoeia. Portmanteau 'em if you can.

A silly word + the first name of a former coworker. Portmanteau 'em.

A kind of public event + a cat-like term. Smoosh 'em.

Something from ancient history. Shorten what you came up with into a single word.

Something you do when you're nervous. Take that verb and add "-er" to the end to make it a noun.

Silly word + hostile-sounding verb. Portmanteau 'em.

Two silly words with 2+ syllables each. Smoosh 'em.

SECOND: Roll another D20 for flavor

Before you roll, consider how your name sounds without any additional flavor. If it's fine on its own, feel free to leave it as-is. Otherwise, roll on!

Suffix - An upsettingly average last name

Suffix - Think of a hobby. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - A short adjective

Suffix - Think of an adjective. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - Choose Mr. Mrs. Ms. Mx. or something similar

Suffix - Think of a color. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Prefix - Any one-syllable word. Repeat the word a second time, adding or replacing the first consonant with that of your base name.

Suffix - Think of any non-proper noun. Your suffix is "The _____ Cat"

Suffix - it's the word Cat

Suffix - it's the word Kitty

Suffix - it's the word Kitten

Prefix - Choose "Sir" "Madam" "Captain" or something similar

Prefix - Choose "Lord" "Lady" "Noble" or something similar

Prefix - His/Her/Their Majesty (or any pronoun you prefer)

Prefix - His/Her/Their Grace (or any pronoun you prefer)

Prefix - Mc

Prefix - Van

Prefix - Von

Prefix - De

Suffix - Any cat-like term

And you're done!*

*This is as much a creative exercise as it is a "generator" so feel free to mess with the formula and/or let your result inspire something more original. Add multiple layers of flavor if you want. The rules are not rigid. I recommend generating a few names and picking your favorite!

[writerjayne]

Wymack owns apartments au

This was inspired by my friend and their wacky ass neighbors in their Apartment complex (including one who is apparently wanted by the police??) We were talking about said neighbors and I went: what if the Foxes lived in the same apartment? But Exy wasn't a thing because being a team gives them a common interest (using that word very loosely), and just being neighbors would not. So without further ado, have this AU that I'll probably never write a full fic of:

So, keeping Wymack in character: he owns an apartment complex focused on renting to people who would be rejected/denied housing by other companies. He inherited it from his parents who were awful to thier tennatns and borderline slumlords. Wymack poured everything he had into the apartments, renovating and modernizing them, determined to make something better than his parents could ever dream of. Wymack lives on the premises and every opportunity he has to do the opposite of what his parents would do, he does. 

Dan's a stripper and can only pay cash? She has an awful credit score, but hey, rent's getting paid, why would Wymack care? (Eventually, he rents some units to her stage sisters too) Matt eventually moves in with Dan, and Wymack doesn't bat an eye. 

Nicky showed up as a 19 year old with two 15 year olds who he has custody of? Wymack knocked a wall down between two units so they had 3 rooms (even if they stayed in each other's rooms half the time Wymack understood the twins may need space and privacy as they get older), and he gave them a discounted rate until Nicky got a solid job.

Kevin escapes his abusive adoptive family and runs to the only other person he knows outside of that circle. If he has no money/prospects? Wymack knew Kevin's mother, of course, he'll take the kid in, set him up with an assistant manager job, and get him enrolled in classes so he can get a certification while also helping Kevin with the legal side of things. Kevin sleeps on Wymack's couch for a month before he's comfortable having his own apartment.

Renee, needing to start over far away from her old gang? Her mother called Wymack and he had a unit free. She quickly befriends other tenants and suggests a community garden to Wymack who is happy to oblige. (Andrew often gardens with her and everyone thinks the friendship is weird) She and Andrew bond per canon and Renee becomes the heart of the complex and as much of a unifying force as she can be given the circumstances.

Allison, disowned and cut off from family money, with no job? Wymack sets her up with a unit and helps her apply for jobs, telling her she won't pay rent until she has a job, as long as she keeps applying. She finds a job within the month and Wymack holds off on charging her rent anyway.

Seth can't hold a job and has multiple evictions on his record? Wymack still gives him a chance. Second and third ones too when rent's not paid. Or when cops show up looking for him. Or when he starts fights with his neighbors. Wymack can see the scared kid who just needs someone to believe in him. 

So when Neil shows up, clearly trouble and too young to be on his own, desperately trying to come across as normal, Neil, who flinches when Wymack moves too fast, but offers enough cash to cover first and last months' rent plus double Wymack's normal deposit request? Wymack asks no questions and simply sets him up in the unit across from Nicky and the twins. 

It would be easy for them to be the kind of neighbors who never interact, but enough of our Foxes are friendly/nosey that I think they would all eventually become friends. So here's how I think some of that would happen:

Allison and Seth do date but it would be a lot more volatile than cannon (though never abusive) with lots of fighting that everyone else in the building just get used to. (Dan and Renee always check on Allison and Matt eventually becomes friends with and starts checking in with Seth too) 

Renee is everyone's friend and often bakes (just seems like her vibe) she unintentionally scares the crap out of Neil his first night by dropping off some chocolate chip cookies to welcome him to the building. (Much later, she's very apologetic about it, and Neil is able to acknowledge that it wasn't anyone's fault. Besides, he had never been upset with her over it, just cautious)

Nicky is the nosiest neighbor but not to the point of invading people's privacy. Anytime there's movement outside, he's peeking out the windows and has been known to crack the window open to listen to loud conversations/arguments outside. He does know everything about everyone even though he hasn't been here the longest.

Aaron is still going to med school, Andrew and Nicky are supporting him.

Andrew often goes up to the roof to smoke (boy likes to be tall) and this is how he and Neil actually meet face to face. (Andrew was aware that there was a new tenant but hadn't seen him) Neil sits up there to burn cigarettes and stargaze, kinda. Andrew immediately is like 'this kid is weird, let's figure out all his secrets,' and Neil is basically along for the ride.

Neil would still be on the run but maybe from just his dad, Mary did still die so Neil was desperate for a slice of normal and took a chance with Wymacks apartments. I haven't expanded this to much further than what I've shared here so I don't have all the answers or even a plot really but I think Neil would pull everyone together like canon.

Layout-wise (if you're curious), I'm picturing we have Building 1:

First floor- Dan and Matt in A1, Allison in A2, Renee in A3 and Seth in A4

Second floor- Nicky and the twins in unit A5 and A6. Across from them is Neil in A7 and Kevin in A8 

Basement has washers and dryers as well as storage units for each apartment. 

Building 2 has Wymack's double unit (B1 and B2), Kevin still crashes here sometimes but Wymacks door is always open to anyone who needs to talk. Abby also has a unit in building 2, B5, and she also helps out where she can. 

Building 3 has an assortment of different tenants, some of Dan's stage sisters, a couple small families and a couple single person units. 

[winningmymind]

Some twinyard angst for ya

Aaron gets a head injury during exy against a particularly rough team and he passes out briefly. When he wakes up, Aaron can't remember anyone but Nicky, and is diagnosed with temporary amnesia. Ofc the Foxes are concerned and try to jog his memory quicker, but the Monsters are the main ones viscerally affected that Aaron only remembers Nicky and can't remember his twin Andrew at all.

Andrew especially is determined to get Aaron to remember him, Betsy Dobson notes in their solo therapy sessions (the joint twin one is postponed due to Aaron's amnesia) how Andrew feels uncomfortable that Aaron can forget his existence and how he wants to kill the away team's striker for causing Aaron's head injury.

Aaron, on the other hand, is surprised and a bit heartened at this many people caring about his wellbeing. The Monsters find hope in Aaron instinctively reacting to things that piss him off like Kevin's annoying health diet he keeps pushing on everyone or Neil's uncontrolled lovey dovey eyes towards Andrew or Nicky's inappropriate flirting when a hot man is around. It's small signs that Aaron can come back to them and Andrew latches onto it because even though his brother is physically here with him, it's not the same emotionally, and it makes Andrew long for the letter Aaron originally sent him when his twin wanted to know everything about Andrew instead of looking at Andrew like a stranger that shares his face.

"You don't remember who I am?"

"No. Sorry."

"But you killed for me."

[bisexualchaosdemon]

Twins run in the family.

Aaron and Katelyn get married after graduating from Palmetto, before they go off to med school together. It takes them pretty far from Andrew, but they work to keep in touch.

In the last year of their four year MDs, Kate gets pregnant — A happy accident. Then, they find out they're having twins, just, holy fuck. Kate is determined to not let it slow her down, though, because she's a bad bitch. Then Andrew suggests that they move closer to him and Neil once they graduate.

This leads to a few long and difficult conversations. Andrew admits that he would like to see Aaron more and to have a relationship with his nieces. Aaron admits that he does miss Andrew being close by and that they could use the extra support. In the end, they agree after Andrew actually apologies to Katelyn for the way he treated her in the beginning.

No one regrets the decision. Aaron and Katelyn are beyond grateful for the support as they start their careers. Andrew absolutely adores his nieces, more so than he ever thought he could. Neil is happy because Andrew is happy.

But it isn't always easy. It's hard because they both see it; the girls are what Andrew and Aaron could have been if they were never separated. If Tilda had been capable of being a good mother to her twins. And it fucking hurts.

Somehow, this pain leads to Aaron planting a seed in Andrew's mind — What if Andrew and Neil were to start fostering? Andrew thinks his brother has finally lost it. It's ludicrous, insane, impossible, but– Is it? Helping foster kids could be nice, and it's not like they can't stop if it's too much.

Once Neil has his own separate crisis about it, they decide to go for it. Andrew and Neil sure as hell know how not to raise a kid and they have yet to completely traumatise any of the kids in their lives. So a fuck ton of paperwork and hoop-jumping later, they find themselves in a group home to see if there's a kid there they can help.

That's when they find not one kid, but two. Tucked away in a corner they find twin girls, maybe a year younger than Aaron's girls, who only speak Russian. They hadn't intended to jump in at the deep-end like that, but something about them puts Andrew on alert. So they take the girls home with them.

And it is so, so much harder than they had expected. They had only prepped for one kid, but that's easily fixed. It's not so easy to fix the fact that the girls absolutely do not trust them. But Andrew and Neil are persistent; they don't push for trust, but they make sure to prove to the girls that they are safe at every turn.

Slowly, achingly slowly, the girls start to relax. They start to open up. And Andrew realises something so much worse than the pain that got them here.

Andrew realises that his twins are like him and Aaron too, but if Tilda left them both in the system. They are the real life result of his own worst nightmare.

Pt.1 Pt.2>>

MASTERPOST

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: it'd been time to do something you'd known would have to be done. but you hadn't been sure you'd been ready. Wally hadn't been in support of it, though he'd understood. mostly, he hadn't wanted you to have to rely on Xavier...but questions had needed answering and it'd been the only way.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.8

You were snuggled against Wally, back to front, between his legs on the floor at the back of the library. It was still too early on a Monday morning to worry about being caught sitting at a strange angle with air at your back, though, frankly, you were too tired to care.

Charley sat against the opposite bookshelf, cross-legged with his back against the American History section. Ajay was sprawled across the windowsill. He listened as he gazed outside forlornly, Mina's ongoing absence starting to take a toll.

Beside you, Maddie leaned against Wally, her head on his shoulder, arms around her knees, clearly battling with too many thoughts. Claire, Xavier; Mr. South, and his possible connection to Amelia, the Something-Something, and tearing Maddie from her body.

The bloody crowbar nagged at her as much as it did you. Something about it didn't sit right. If Amelia had been behind everything, you didn't think she'd have been careless enough to forget the crowbar. Maddie's body would've been inert—no threat of it escaping.

Ignoring the alibi Xavier insisted was true, if Mr. South as himself was responsible, same question. Why hadn't he cleaned the crowbar and put it back where it belonged? No one had been looking at him; he'd have easily gotten away with it.

Currently, Xavier stood at the end of the aisle, wary and alert and watching the door for anyone who wasn't on Team Parabnormal, as he'd labeled it. A loyal guardian.

He'd been at your side during stilted suppers around the Baxter table; Aurora a shell of herself, avoiding Andrew. Andrew, grey and vacant-eyed as he nursed the wound of his best friend's comatose condition. Nanna absent to keep vigil at Ginny's bedside. And your mother, ever the saint, off to heal the bereaved between pitstops at Mr. Anderson's house to check in on his father and the full-time nurse Andrew was shelling out for.

The cops hadn't found Dave. Dave who might not have been innocent, but who you'd determined hadn't been present when his body had pushed Mr. Anderson off the roof. True, he'd still looked like himself, but his mannerisms had been off. The way he'd used his features, wore his face, it'd been...uncanny.

After sneaking back into your house under the noses of the deputies stationed across the street, Xavier in tow, Dead Grandpa John watching on in interest, you'd found a book on—

"Golems?" Charley asked, head cocked like a confused puppy, "Like the clay monster things?"

"Yes, but not in this case," You offered, "In myth it means the clay monster things, but connected Circles use the term to describe someone whose body is animated by energy that's not theirs."

Never in your life had you been more informed about the Craft as you were then. You'd even discovered your family's library was warded when Xavier had commented, "How have I never been in here?"

Crazy. Because he'd grown up with you, had been over more times in a week than you figured there were days in a year. And yet, it was true, you couldn't recall a single instance Xavier had been inside the library.

Like the ominous symbols around the school, you'd found runes (normal ones, ones you could read) etched into the thin seams of the doorframe. Wards were a thing. You'd found them on the back and front doors as well, and all the bedroom windows after you'd done a curious sweep to see what else you'd been ignorant to in your own house.

They were everywhere. It made you feel a little safer, but connectedness wasn't defensive magic like in the movies. It was subtle and innocuous and heavily influenced by intention.

Bringing you back to the moment, Charley raised an eyebrow, "So, a possession."

"Nooo?" You had to think about it. Using golems was difficult to describe. At least, from what you'd read. It made sense, but ultimately also didn't. Comparing the two states, you finally settled on, "Hard no. Not like a possession."

"It's like that shitty John Malkovich movie." Xavier put forward, and even you gave him a funny look. He shrugged, "What you told me sounded like it. You know, Mind Cage or whatever." You continued to stare at him. He rolled his eyes, "You made me watch it."

"The one about the artist who can enter people's bodies when he draws them?" Maddie asked, glancing between you and Xavier. "That was a shitty movie."

"Oooh, yeah. Yeah, something like that." You agreed. "But minus the drawing part. You would have to have some serious power, though. It's basically long-distance hypnosis. The golem doesn't have any memory of the time they spent being used." You explained. "And it only works on people who have latent or fully developed connectedness."

Xavier scoffed, "You mean to tell me Dave has magic powers?"

"Trust me, I know." You mumbled, unhappy with the thought that you and Dave, innocent or not, had anything in common.

Wally piped up behind you, "Why bother hypnotizing or...taking over someone's body if Amelia can literally just go into one?"

"Like she did my dad," Maddie stared ahead, tone despondent, her brows knitted as she thought about Christopher and everything he'd missed because he'd saved your life.

You felt the pressure of guilt behind your ribs, tried to tamp it down. She never suggested she was mad at you for what'd happened to her dad, but it was difficult to believe. She should be, you reasoned. He'd died because of you.

Forcing yourself back on topic, you said, "From what the book said, golems are extremely difficult to maneuver. It takes finesse. The golem could wake up at any moment if certain conditions change. Like they get hit in the face by a bird or something."

"Interesting," Charley chuckled. "So, Amelia or Anabelle or both can make magical people their puppets from anywhere. Sounds like a great time to be alive."

"It's definitely easier than setting up a body swap," Ajay said from the windowsill. "You don't have to worry about the person's ghost getting in the way."

Everyone went silent again, that uncomfortable heaviness sweeping back in. No one looked at Maddie.

"It's temporary, but effective," You said after a moment, when the atmosphere became too much to bear. You sank deeper into Wally's embrace, as if trying to escape it altogether. He snuck a hand under your shirt, just enough for skin-to-skin, his thumb stroking your hipbone. "I kinda feel bad that there won't be a way to prove it wasn't Dave who pushed Mr. Anderson..."

"Really?" Xavier asked from his post, "I still feel like the guy is hiding a whole secret life. He's not normal."

You snorted, "No, he's not. But he's also not a murderer."

"That you know of."

You seesawed your head, "I really don't wanna think that Rory's that blind. Her empathy should be better than that." You recalled how she'd roused from her stupor long enough to gawp at you about the change in your aura. How you no longer smelled like jasmine...

Simon was never allowed around her again, if only to keep the truth of who'd altered your cosmic chemistry hidden. And for the sake of his limbs.

Ginny would be fine with it, knew you were old enough to choose what you did with your body and who you did it with. Nanna would just tease you. Andrew, your mother, and Aurora? They had streaks. And a weird over-protective quality that'd cemented itself in all of them since the farmhouse and Aiden.

"Do we know if any other teenagers have gone missing?" Maddie asked, clearly wanting to stay focused.

You shook your head, "There were a couple, but they were found pretty quickly. Runaways who popped up in Milwaukee and Detroit. If Amelia stole your body for another ritual, it might be the only one so far."

"Why not just use it now? Why wait?" Wally asked before realizing what he'd said. He cringed and offered Maddie an apologetic look, "Sorry, Mads." Then turned to scan everyone else, "But seriously, if she's got it, why not?"

"Because she wouldn't be able to keep it," You said, and when everyone gave you their attention, you continued. "The ritual she did, it was complicated. It required a helluva lot of energy."

"Hence the sacrifices." Ajay inserted.

"Yep. She used all those people to glue her, Anabelle, and Alistair into the bodies. If she just swooped in and took Maddie's body, her ghost would be rejected pretty quickly. The chemistry would have to be identical if she even stood a chance of keeping it."

"I thought you said you couldn't find anything on that ritual," Charley said, head cocked and eyes intense, "Did you find something?"

Again, you had to shake your head, "Not that specific. But forbidden rituals that complex aren't actually easy to hide. They require and affect a lot of people. Lots of moving parts."

"Lots of sacrifices."

You nodded at Ajay, "Lots of sacrifices."

Another long silence before, "What about the farmhouse?" Xavier wondered, eyes hovering somewhere over your head as he avoided your gaze. "There might be something there to explain the ritual. A book or instructions or something..."

You'd been thinking about that since yesterday. Heaving a weary sigh, you agreed, "Yeah. There might still be clues there. If we can get into that cavern, we could get a better sense of what happened and how."

Wally's hold on you tightened, fingers digging into your hips, "You wanna go back there?"

"Not really, but we're out of options. Our library doesn't have anything on forbidden rituals, and I don't exactly know any evil practitioners in the area." You twisted slightly to look up at him, "It's the only choice we have."

He hated the idea, you could tell, his face dark and unhappy. But you also sensed that he understood. You gave him a soft smile, craned your neck to kiss his cheek.

"We'll be okay," You assured, "If anything tries to eat us, I'll throw Xavier at them."

Wally perked up. Xavier's expression flattened.

"Thanks, kiddo."

You beamed at Xavier, "Anytime."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Group was tense, a static hum closing in on Wally as he sat in his seat, leg bouncing, studying Mr. Martin carefully.

Ajay had opted to stay in the library, unable to bring himself to join Group when he had so many conflicting emotions swirling beneath the surface. Wally couldn't blame him, but God, he needed Ajay's steadfast presence to keep his mind from going haywire.

Things had turned sour almost immediately after Wally had vetoed Mr. Martin's scheduled activity for the day. The Mock Trial last year had been a snooze fest, and even your presence this year couldn't sway Wally's opinion.

Sure, he enjoyed that you were close, that he could keep an eye on you; something he'd felt more inclined to do after Friday night for many reasons. But it'd been thirty-nine years of lackluster scenarios because the school didn't want to subject the youth to violence and gore.

You were adorable, curled up with your notebook at the front, Eli trying to engage you in conversation as he externally processed what he'd seen on Friday. Wally could tell you were uncomfortable, and he wanted to put himself between you and Eli just to get the guy to change the subject, but he couldn't.

Mr. Martin was right there. And acting weirdly evasive while also being insistent that everyone keep to the itinerary he'd put together for the day. Usually, Mr. Martin was easygoing (to a degree) about what the Group wanted or didn't want to do, but today he seemed stressed.

Jaw tense. Eyes wild and pleading. His feathers ruffled in a way Wally had never seen before.

The catalyst had been Maddie's threat to leave Group to find clues to clear Mr. South's name. Even Rhonda, who never gave a flying fuck about itinerary's and Group activities—I'm not a joiner—spouted uncharacteristically passive bullshit that made Wally want to shake her back to herself.

It sounded so contrived, as if she'd been fed the lines. All of it reminded Wally of things Mr. Martin himself would say if he weren't being ignored in favor of everyone asking Maddie penetrating questions about the holes in her memory.

Wally hadn't said anything to anyone—not even you—but he'd noticed a strange distance in Rhonda recently. Since the theater. At first, he'd chalked it up to how she was coming to terms with what she'd seen, what their haunt now knew about their circumstances, how shitty everything really was.

Yet... Wally couldn't get past this feeling of doubt that crept in whenever he heard her rattle off something he'd never imagined she'd say. He eyed her warily, unsure how to feel when she tried to assuage Maddie with some meditative it is what it is crap.

What the hell was going on?

Wally was startled from his thoughts when Mr. Martin urged to Maddie, "Whether your memory returns or not, you're not in a position to help the accused, Maddie." At which Wally and Charley shared a nervous look. "We have no influence over what happens in that world."

Wally flicked his gaze to the back of your head, visible above the back of the first spectators' bench. When his eyes returned to Mr. Martin, a chill wracked through him. Mr. Martin was looking right at you. It was fleeting, so quick Wally nearly missed it, but unmistakable.

"Do we?" Mr. Martin then prodded, eyes boring into Maddie's. When Maddie didn't answer, he repeated, "Do we have any sway over a living person?" And the expression on Mr. Martin's face might've been docile, but there was something beneath it. Something that made Wally uneasy. "Is there something we're not sharing with the group?"

One more there-and-gone glance at you by Mr. Martin, and Wally interjected, "Uh, speaking of repressed memories..." He leaned down to grab the psychology textbook he'd boosted from the library.

"We're not," Mr. Martin insisted.

Wally ignored him, desperate to pull Mr. Martin's attention away from you. Coincidence or not, Wally didn't like it.

"Well, we can, so I will." Wally presented the textbook and assured Maddie that, "We're gonna help you get through this, Maddie, okay?" A hand on her back, his eyes sincere. "We're all going to figure it out."

In the library, he and the others had agreed at Ajay's suggestion that they should start helping Maddie get her memories back. It gave Wally something to focus on that wasn't you and the farmhouse and good guy Xavier Baxter.

"Thank you, Wally," Maddie said.

What remained of the Group session was rocky and, either defeated or unsettled, Mr. Martin dismissed everyone earlier than he usually did.

Before vacating the circle, Wally leaned in to ask Maddie, "Quick question," his voice low to avoid being overheard. She resettled in her seat and slanted toward him, "The day you ended up here...you didn't by any chance drink tea that probably tastes like soap, did you?"

A hundred questions passed over Maddie's expression as she thought about how to respond. It wasn't totally random, and Wally figured it couldn't have hurt to ask. If that tea had drugged you and possibly made fifty to sixty wealthy socialites attend to the whims of a crazy woman, it very well could've been what'd caused Maddie to forget why she'd been in the boiler room in the first place.

Eventually, "No," she said, and she sounded worried about Wally's mental health. "You think Amelia snuck in somehow and drugged me?"

"I just wanted to make sure," Wally defended. "If Amelia was using Mr. South, he would've had access to things. Like drinks."

"Yeah, but how would he know which one Maddie would actually drink?" Charley asked quietly as he came to stand in front of them.

Wally gave him a pointed look, "Amelia's got serious magic, man."

"Connectedness," Charley and Maddie corrected in unison.

Wally flapped a hand, "We don't even actually know what that means. What people with strong powers can really do. Maybe she secretly convinced Maddie to take a specific can of soda or something."

"Disguised as the lunch lady?" Maddie asked with uncertainty.

It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, which made Wally, Charley, and Maddie shiver.

"I can't remember much about lunch that day," Maddie admitted, chewed her lip as she tried to recall.

"We should start there, then," Wally suggested as he shoved the psychology textbook into his backpack and zipped it closed. Briefly, he let his eyes fall on you, your attention on the teacher leading the Mock Trial.

God, he didn't want you to go anywhere near that farmhouse.

"You're making that face again," Maddie chuckled, fondness in her tone.

Charley griped, "He always makes that face now. It's the only expression I see when I look at him."

"Hey!" Wally snapped his attention to Charley, "It's not my fault my girl's sexy."

Maddie snorted, "And you're not looking at her like that because she's going on a roadtrip with my ex who kissed her?"

"He what!?" Charley gaped, pulling up the empty chair beside Maddie and dropping into it, his body angled forward, totally invested in the story.

Wally groaned, "How'd you hear about that?"

"Xavier told Simon who told me." Maddie grinned.

Mr. Martin and the others were long gone, Wally noticed with relief, and he relaxed. Well, except Rhonda, but she seemed content to linger in her seat, watching you watch the trial. Not hostile or judgmental. Simply observing, which Wally couldn't decide if he found odd or not.

"And how do you feel about that?" Charley asked Maddie.

"Honestly?" Maddie shrugged, "I don't really care. I know it wasn't serious. At least, she says it wasn't, and I believe her. And, Xavier actually apologized to me for it, too."

"He did?" That was news to Wally.

"Yeah," Maddie nodded, "On Saturday when he and Ajay were...hanging out." She slanted a knowing look at Wally. "I realized I really didn't care." And then, teasing, "I'm still not sure how I feel about him, but... He's your problem now."

"Don't remind me," Wally said, dark and adamant. He cast you another look, felt his face melt into something soft and gooey. "At least she won't be alone. That's the best I could ask for..."

"Could ask Simon." Charley inserted.

"His parents are still watching him like a hawk," Maddie said, her expression turning forlorn. "I wish there was something I could do."

Wally reached out and placed his hand on her back, "Everything's gonna work out, Mads, don't worry. We're going to get your memory back, stop a creepy death cult from kidnapping teenagers, break the barrier, and then—"

"Go to the mall to get a new wardrobe," Charley sighed whimsically.

Wally laughed, "Yeah, or whatever else we want because we'll be free."

It was such a hopeful thought, Wally was scared to let it settle inside him. He glanced up, his eyes finding you again, drawn like magnets, and he smiled.

"Face." Maddie, Charley and, now, Rhonda chorused.

"Shut up," Wally pouted as he stood, beckoning the others to follow him.

He had a plan to put into action to help jog Maddie's memory. He could ponder all the things he was going to do to you when he was free from the school later.

Right now, it was game time.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was stunned when Wally willingly approached him after the last bell. He'd bobbed his head to indicate the necessity for privacy before leading Xavier into an empty classroom.

Wally didn't look too happy to be there, face set, eyes hard, hands fisted as his sides before he crossed his arms and leaned against the teacher's desk, one ankle over the other.

"I want you to keep her safe." He said at last.

Xavier stood there, dumbfounded, because duh. He'd never let anything happen to you. Ever. Whether Wally believed it or not, Xavier loved you and would destroy everything in his path to protect you from harm.

"I mean it," Wally continued. He exhaled sharply, glanced away, and Xavier realized, oh shit, the guy felt helpless and didn't know how to reconcile that. "If anything happens to her, Xavier, I'll find a way to kill you."

"Got it." Xavier nodded, held up a hand in scout's honor. And then, sincerely, "Look, nothing's going to happen. If there's even the smallest sign of trouble, I'm turning the truck around and bringing her back. She can kick and scream all she wants."

It was the first time he'd ever shared a sentiment with Wally that wasn't fear.

Wally seemed to relax. His jaw still ticked, but his shoulders lowered.

Finally, he nodded and looked Xavier in the eye. "Thanks."

And that was that. Moment over. Wally strutted out of the classroom to seek you out.

Now, Xavier drove in the direction of the old Meheive estate, the truck quiet except for the drone of the radio. He'd dropped Claire off at her house after the confrontation with his father in the 7-Eleven, and had picked you up outside his house.

He'd spent the first ten minutes of the journey filling you in on the lunchbreak escapade to the Sheriff's station; how he and Simon had found a clue that pointed to Nicole. As skeptical as Xavier was, you'd altogether refuted the idea that she could be involved with Maddie's abduction. However...it made a twisted sort of sense to Xavier.

Regardless of whether or not Nicole had been influenced by Amelia, Simon had described what he believed could be the root of Nicole's possible resentment toward Maddie. The pieces fit. Xavier could map out how one ill-timed remark led to an outburst that'd resulted in Maddie's out-of-body predicament.

"Not everything has to be connected to the cult," Xavier had said sagely.

"True," You'd agreed, yet, "But do you really think, after everything, it's not?"

Yeah, fine, maybe not, but Xavier knew people could be shitty all by themselves without magical intervention.

Twenty minutes later and Xavier turned onto a gated dirt road. The gate itself was dilapidated, yawned open, its iron panels slanted away from the frame as if trying to free themselves from their hinges.

He drove carefully down the dirt road, no lights to guide him apart from his high beams. The setting felt spooky, Xavier's blood curdling as he maneuvered around fallen branches and deep pits in the dirt. No lights. Just dark and trees and whatever hid within them.

One would think the town would've maintained the property. A heritage sight previously owned by the family of one of Split River's founders. Apparently, no one had had the incentive since, when Xavier drove to the apex of the horseshoe driveway, the house itself was completely run down.

It had the essence of grandeur in its woodwork and architecture, but he could tell it had long since been abandoned to the elements.

Unlike the school, where Xavier knew ghosts roamed, this place felt truly haunted. It emanated a profound melancholy that was almost physical, cresting into him and raising goosebumps on his skin. The air in the truck chilled considerably, and he felt as if a thousand eyes were watching him from every direction.

His whole body itched to turn around and go home, warnings to leave this place impressed between the squiggly folds of his brain. No voice, no distinct words, merely a loud creeping sensation. It was eerie, Xavier thought, the feeling like the one people got when they couldn't recall a word they knew. Dangling on the precipice of knowing.

He glanced at you, watched you for a moment as you stared through the passenger window at the front porch. After putting the truck in park, he reached over and took your hand to give it a firm squeeze.

"You ready?" He asked.

He couldn't imagine you were, but you were putting on one hell of a brave face. You inhaled a rattled breath and returned the squeeze before opening the truck door to climb out.

This couldn't have been easy. Back at the scene of your brother's murder. The last place you'd seen him and in the worst way possible. Xavier's stomach rolled as he got out of the truck, his heart leaden in his chest. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want you to be here.

He didn't have time to dwell on it because, quite suddenly, the world around him flickered. As soon as he joined you on the passenger side of the truck, the house had changed. Not drastically, but enough for Xavier to be alarmed. Its image was pristine. Turrets tall and proud, shingles restored, paintwork smooth.

"What the Jesus Christ is going on?" Xavier muttered in a mixture of awe and fright.

Without looking at him, "Even homes have ghosts if they had enough life made in them," you said, then smiled sadly, "This is how the house is perceived on the other side of the veil."

"Are you telling me we're in the land of the dead right now?"

"There's no life left here, so death moved in." You shrugged, simple as that.

Xavier gawped but went with it, not sure if he had the capacity for another magic lesson. Your voice in his head chided him that it's not magic, however, Xavier was having a harder and harder time believing it. A ghost house sounded like something a wizard would say. And wizards? Notorious for wielding magic.

"So, is this how I'm going to see every abandoned property from now on?"

"I think it depends on the property." You jerked your chin at the house and instructed, "Look closer."

Xavier peered at the house, but he didn't know what he was supposed to have been looking f—wait. There. Beneath the reminiscence was the decayed reality.

Two images overlayed to create a new composite. A house trapped between life and death. The holes in the roof were visible under the translucent image of perfectly intact shingles. The front steps were eaten away under clean, white planks.

"As cool as this is, I'm ready to hand back my magic powers now," Xavier mumbled.

He shadowed you as you proceeded up the front steps, minding the living-world gaps, before you carelessly trodded over the fallen screen door that was also in perfect condition on its hinges. Watching you pull it open while not pulling it open was a trip that made Xavier's head spin. The unnaturalness of it disagreed with his brain.

You hesitated with your hand on the main door's polished-tarnished handle. He saw the struggle on your face. After this, you'd know if Aiden's ghost had lingered or if mercy had been given and he'd crossed over.

Neither option brought peace, but, to Xavier at least, the former was worse. The little boy he'd thought of as his brother, trapped and alone, abandoned, neglected, hurt. Those things took a toll that Xavier had felt in fractions. He didn't want to believe Aiden had had to suffer them all at once.

The instant your breathing stuttered and your knuckles whitened on the handle, Xavier took over, wanting to absolve you of the burden.

As soon as his skin touched the brass, a chill zipped through his skeleton, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and, against his better judgment, he turned the knob.

When you and he stepped over the threshold, the interior flickered as it had outside. Stately and ruined; cozy and cold; marvelous and wasted. The air was thinner, the contrast darker. Xavier hated it on sight. While the mirage was the picture of wealth and classic luxury, the image beneath it spoke of endless horror and despair.

As he'd done at the place on 10th and Lasher, Xavier clasped your hand. For support. For safety. For comfort. For all of the above. He kept you close as you and he crept through the front of the house. Formal living room. Parlor. Games room. Study.

He thought he was going crazy when, moving closer to the kitchen, the light began to brighten. When he glanced around, he was mildly surprised to notice the epoch blend of candleflame and carbon arc light that had manifested.

The kitchen was empty when you and he entered.

"I don't even remember this," You said, casting Xavier a trepidatious look. "I don't remember walking out of here."

Xavier didn't say anything. What was there to say? Instead, he jerked his chin at a closed door across the room.

"Think that's it?"

You did. Together, you and he walked to the door. Opened it. The creak it released was ugly and sinister. Behind the door, it was pitch black, like all the shadows around the property had gathered there. Xavier took his phone from his pocket, switched on the flashlight, and took the first step down.

The stairs groaned under his weight, but they held. He kept your hand in his as you and he descended into the dark. At the bottom of the stairs was the shelf Christopher had toppled. There was the mattress, though it'd been burned; only the distorted wire remained.

Xavier caught you averting your eyes, quickly heading toward the back wall.

"This is where that lord entered the cavern," You said, dropping your backpack to the ground to pull out a pen. "Hopefully this'll work."

Xavier wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed when it did. He was certainly apprehensive, the dark that much darker. Again, he took the lead—not even a question, regardless of Wally's voice in Xavier's head—and stepped carefully down the narrow stone steps.

You stayed close, he could feel the heat of your body at his back, not giving more than a step of space as you and he kept hands on the wall to feel the way down. The staircase spiraled slightly and then, at the bottom, opened.

"Watch it," You warned, hand on Xavier's shoulder before he could move forward.

He glanced at the floor and almost shrieked. Thankfully, he had a second to process and was able to maintain his composure. A black sarcophagus lay battered on the ground, its face still horrifying, the ruby eyes glinting in the light of Xavier's phone. Scattered around it were masks with long noses and others without, as well as all kinds of trinkets Xavier could only call macabre.

Broken glass and tiny animal skulls and finger bones and whatever the hell else might belong on the set of The Blair Witch Project. Oh, Xavier hated this.

"Guess we're in the right place," He breathed, swallowing. He reached behind himself and found your hand again, pulling you around the mess and into the cavern proper.

It was huge, and the light from his phone wasn't enough to illuminate the kind of ground you and he needed to cover. Still, he was reluctant to release you so you and he could split up. Cautiously, you and he found the wall and felt about, doing a tour until, by complete luck, his fingers brushed a switch.

He flicked it and, instantly, the cavern lit up. Chandeliers burst to life from above, bringing the cavern to life. It was...not great, Xavier thought to himself, stomach lurching when his eyes fell on a large crescent of grey bones, all stacked and jumbled within clothes that had been eaten away by time.

The crescent seemed to shape outward from a raised platform that took up a good portion of the main wall. You were already on it, inspecting a table thickly layered in dust. Xavier's gaze temporarily returned to the crescent, more to the center of it where three raised altars sat.

He couldn't believe the whole thing was real. That you'd supposedly traveled back in time when Aiden had pulled everyone through the farmhouse door. Yet, here was the proof.

"You find anything?" He asked, stepping onto the platform as he pocketed his phone. Xavier glanced at the portraits on the wall, most of them no longer recognizable, but the few that were made his scalp tingly unpleasantly.

"Not really," You answered, fingers dancing over the few objects that sat on the table. "Nothing that means anything, anyway. All this stuff is gimmicky. Like the shit in mom's room." You turned to Xavier, "You know who we could really use right now?"

Xavier speculated, "Are you going to say your object-reading uncle who I now know can read objects?"

You gave him a small smirk, "I am."

"Too bad we can't ask him," Xavier sighed, spun about on his heel to take in more of the space. Across from the platform was a line of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Most of the were empty, but, right there, in the bottom-left corner, "Hey, I think I see something."

You followed Xavier to the bookshelf, "I don't remember seeing this."

"You were kinda busy watching a bunch of people die," Xavier reasoned, "I don't think I'd remember much either."

"Fair," You agreed as you crouched down. The second your hand touched one of the old, mangy books, you reeled back as if burned. "Holy fuck!"

Xavier jumped, got his head on straight, and then dropped to his knees to check you over, "You good? What happened?"

You shook your hand out, "It's like what I felt when I touched the tree," With the symbol on it, you didn't have to clarify. "It feels...evil." You said, giving Xavier a stressed look. "Blacker than black."

"That can't mean anything good."

You obviously agreed, leaning in again so slowly that Xavier was sure time had somehow overcranked itself. You plucked one of the books from the shelf and opened it carefully. Parts of the first page immediately crumbled under your touch, as gentle as it was.

"That can't mean anything good," Xavier wheezed. If it was all just going to turn to dust, there'd be nothing to find.

"No, wait..." You pulled a piece of paper from your backpack, slipped it between the pages of the book, and used it to turn the page. It wasn't foolproof, but it worked.

As you began to scan the pages, Xavier sat up and looked around, his eyes constantly falling back on the pile of bones. One in particular that sat just outside of the crescent. A silver revolver next to it.

Fuck.

"Here. Look." Your voice cut through his thoughts. Xavier leaned over your shoulder and looked at the page. As far as he could tell, it was all gibberish, swirly letters and pictograms that he couldn't make heads or tails of.

Except, "Those look like the symbols at school."

"Yep. And this is a guide on how to use them." You smiled for the first time since undertaking this journey, "Not so bad, after all, huh?"

"How about we just take this thing with us and get the hell out of here," Xavier suggested, feeling more and more like he was being watched.

You snapped a few pictures of the pages on your phone before very, very gently sliding the book into your backpack between your History notes and your copy of Frankenstein. You glanced at the other books on the shelf and fingered through them.

"This one looks like a grimoire," You said as if to yourself.

"Okay, that word I know, and it's associated to magic." Xavier said flatly, "Can we please just be honest with ourselves and refer to it as it is?"

You shot him a glare, maintained eye contact as you lifted the book from the shelf and placed it in your lap. "No."

Unlike the other book, that one was thinner, less fragile, and you were able to flip through it with more ease. Like the other book, however, it was also written in gibberish that Xavier couldn't translate. You either, apparently. Different gibberish, then, Xavier bemoaned.

"We'll take it anyway," You decided.

The last book was oddly mundane. A copy of Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management.

"Does it...mean something?"

"Aside from how to run a household?" You responded, "I have no idea..."

You opted not to take it. Apparently had a copy at home, just like Xavier did. His mom had left it behind when she'd moved out. Of the house. And his life.

Just in case you flipped through the pages. There was nothing there that shouldn't be.

"Okay, let's get going," Xavier said, already halfway back to the staircase with you in tow. Those bones really freaked him out, and the portraits that still had eyes made his skin crawl.

Up the winding stairs and into the cellar, around to the steps and back into the kitchen. Only this time, the kitchen wasn't empty.

He stared in shock at the face that angled up at him, his heart in his throat. Grabbing your hand, Xavier released a heavy breath. He felt you shake beneath his palm, could hear the rattle in your chest as you stared down at the same little person Xavier was staring at.

"A-Aiden," You gasped.

Aiden smiled when you said his name, "Hi, Sissy." Like he'd seen you that morning. Like everything was normal and he wasn't a ghost clutching his stuffed lion, solid but dead in a kitchen he should never have been in.

Xavier's eyes stung, a pressure in his sinuses, and he cleared his throat. "Hey buddy."

"Hi, Zav," Aiden grinned, "Are we gonna play now?"

It felt like a kick to the gut. Xavier heard more than felt you drop to your knees beside him, your breathing now ragged as you tried to hold back the tidal wave of emotion he could sense within you. Slowly lowering himself, Xavier moved his hand to wind his arm around your shoulders.

When he looked at you, your eyes were wide, glistening, horrified.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You didn't know how to process what you were seeing. Aiden, dressed in his Looney Tunes sweater and Spiderman boots, apple-cheeked and pink as if he were still alive. Totally unchanged.

In a blink, you went from stone to a flurry of motion, lurching forward and dragging Aiden into a hug that he complained was too tight.

"I can't breathe," He grumbled, and that hurt more, made your stomach roll, and the back of your throat sting.

"I'm sorry," You sniffled, trying so hard not to cry; you had to keep it together for him. You loosened your hold on Aiden, but didn't let him go. Couldn't let him go.

Aiden beamed up at you, dimples on display, "You're staying for dinner, right?"

"Wh-what?" You asked and then you noticed a flicker in the corner of your eye.

Aiden wasn't alone in the farmhouse. Other ghosts seemed to materialize out of the ether. Translucent and silvery at first before solidifying as they moved around the kitchen. A woman at the stove dressed in clothes reminiscent of the 1940s. A man with muttonchops and a bushy mustache in dirty overalls. Another man, this one shorter and more put together in a three-piece suit.

More and more entered the space, each taking a dish from a stack on the kitchen table and carrying it to the stove where the woman ladled out something from a cauldron pot. The ghosts chatted amongst each other, totally oblivious to you and Xavier. Or perhaps they didn't care. You couldn't be sure.

"Sissy?" Aiden asked, frowning as he repeated, "You're staying for dinner, right?"

"I-," Had no idea what to do.

Xavier stepped in when you couldn't finish.

"We can't, buddy," And, fuck, his voice was as thick with emotion as yours. "We have to go, but maybe we could come back, and we'll play then. When it's not already dark out." He sounded so sweet and sincere. Gentle in a way few people rarely got to see.

"Why can't you stay now?" Aiden pouted, whined, clutched Limon closer to his chest, and glared at a spot on Xavier's shirt.

"Because my dad wants us to be home soon." Xavier said, rational and adult and not at all what Aiden wanted to hear.

He relaxed, but his pout remained, "Fine."

Xavier glanced at you quickly to get your support. You couldn't move, couldn't answer, still staring at Aiden in a crippling combination of anguish and shock. Your little brother was still here, trapped in the place he'd died. And no one had ever visited.

"Hey, kiddo, come on," Xavier urged, and yet you could barely hear him. Didn't matter, because a second later, "Oh, fuck."

Your head whipped up, and you saw what Xavier saw. A man in military garb whose face resembled Maddie's so much it was impossible to miss who he was.

"They're trapped here, too." You choked out, falling back on your haunches. "Just like at the school."

"How can you be sure?" Xavier whispered, shuffling closer, as close as he could get, as Christopher approached.

"Aiden was six," You said in equally as hushed a tone, "Little kids don't linger. Not unless something keeps them tethered to the earth. The Awen always, always takes them back."

Xavier paled, nodded, "Okay. Okay, so they're trapped."

"Look at them all," You gasped, trying to count the ghosts, but they kept bobbing and weaving between each other as they got their food and returned to the table to eat it. Got up again, got more food, returned to the table. A revolving door of actions.

All the ghosts except Aiden. Your eyes narrowed as you studied him. He smiled back at you, squeezing Limon; round, green eyes sparkling as they always had when he'd looked at you. Pure adoration for his big sister.

And you let him die...

Xavier must've understood where you'd been going with your earlier statement, because, once again, he stepped in where you couldn't.

"Hey, Aid...do you know if there are any funny symbols on any trees or rocks around here?" He asked.

Aiden cocked his head as he seemed to think about it. Then, to your surprise, "There's one by the pond. And one on the gate by the road."

"Awesome, buddy, thanks."

"Can we play now?" Aiden wondered, and, Jesus Christ, your lungs stopped working.

Xavier shook his head solemnly, "I'm sorry, we can't stay. But we'll come back, okay?"

Like he had before, Aiden pouted and stared at the ground, "Fine."

Without waiting for the loop to reset, Xavier hauled you to your feet and quick-marched you out of the kitchen. You stumbled, kept glancing back at the image of your brother, vision blurring as tears began to spill.

"Zav, we can't just leave him here," You whimpered, tried to pull away from Xavier, but his grip was firm.

"We can't take him with us right now," Xavier reminded you. His voice was level, kind, and you hated him with everything in you because he was right. "We'll try breaking the barrier at the school first. If it works, we come back and free Aiden."

His conviction helped soothe something in you, though it didn't mitigate the pain. Xavier helped you into the truck, slammed the door shut, and hurried to the driver's side. When you peeked out the window, you saw Aiden standing alone on the porch.

His eyes weren't...right. Bright green, but vacant. Holding Limon, mouthing a question: Can we play now?

Xavier drove like you and he were being chased by an inferno.

Halfway back to town, Xavier's hand a vise on yours, his phone buzzed. Using his knee to manage the wheel so he didn't have to let you go, he shifted and pulled his phone out, handed it off to you for you to read the text he'd received.

"It's Simon," You said, hollow, interest not even piqued when you read the message. And, damn, was it something. "At least we can rule Nicole out."

"Why, what does it say?" Xavier asked, sparing you a quick glance.

You reread the message before relaying, "Nicole took the video that Mr. Anderson and Claire thought was from Maddie." Wow. Okay. You were more aware now, the despondency slipping from your mind the further you got from the farmhouse, "She wanted the hush money so she could go to Chicago with Maddie and Simon."

"I thought she submitted a portfolio?"

"I guess it was rejected," You said, not seeing anything about that in the message.

A few beats of silence and then, "I'm glad she isn't one of the bad guys," Xavier admitted.

You watched him for a moment, a small smile on your face, "You guys are getting kinda close, huh?"

"She's the only one apart from you who doesn't try to remind me how shitty I am whenever I see them."

"You're not shitty, Zav," You said with ferocity, "You made a shitty mistake. That doesn't define who you are. At least...not to me."

He squeezed your hand appreciatively. "Thanks, kiddo." Another moment. "Hey," Xavier coaxed your attention, "Are you okay?"

"Define 'okay'," You murmured.

He didn't have to. Rather, he just continued to hold your hand as he drove, allowed the silence to hold you as you battled with yourself; with your thoughts and feelings and the reality of Aiden's presence still being at the farmhouse.

Aiden, stuck there amongst dead strangers and your friend's father. Aiden, suspended in time, exactly the same as he was the last time you'd seen him.

Exactly... the... same.

"Jesus Christ." You gasped, head shooting up. You turned to Xavier, whose attention you'd caught. He glimpsed between you and the road in concern. "We need to stop at my house."

"What for?" He seemed nervous.

Rightfully so, because, "Zav, Aiden didn't have Limon when he died."

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[queer-ragnelle]

Best of Orkney Brothers

Seeking recommendations for media featuring the Orkney Brothers?

Here’s a curated collection of Retellings, Films, TV shows, and more arranged by character birth order and oldest to newest media. Each recommendation comes with a plot synopsis and review containing spoilers to help you decide what's right for you.

All PDFs link to my Google drive, videos to MEGA drive, and can be found on my blog. Each passage adopts the unique spelling of character names as used in the media.

🗡️ More Best of Masterposts 🗡️

Gawain

Books

Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

Gawaine supports Mordred’s claim to the throne & stands behind his attempt to ascend.

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Gawaine is one of the main characters in all four books. He cucks Pelleas with Ettard, charms his wife the Loathly Lady with his fat wallet & ass, goes adventuring with the other knights, & is at one point cursed to be a dwarf. His grief over the loss of his brothers & sons is especially poignant here I love it so much. Many iconic illustrations of him as well.

The Queen's Knight by Marvin Borowsky

Gawaine is described as “landless, not overly endowed with wits, but honest and proud.” He’s headstrong & determined. He’s often mentioned alongside his buddies Kay, Launcelot, or with Agravaine. Content warning for pederasty.

The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck

Gawain follows his beloved cousin Ewain into exile. He attempts to use his sun powers to cheat but fails & gets beat up. Then Gawain, Ewain, & Marhalt encounter a maiden, mother, & crone. Gawain takes the maiden for himself & she very quickly ditches him bc he sucks. From here he runs into Pelleas & from there woos Ettarde. Gawain isn't a good person but he's funny & compelling.

The Legend of King Arthur novelization by Andrew Davies

Amazing just like the show. Gawain doesn’t do much until the second half of the book where his involvement with Eleanor of Escalot starts. Extra introspection is always delicious. Full of awesome illustrations.

Guinevere by Sharan Newman

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Gawain of all time I fear. His sun powers have been reversed so it's physically impossible for him to remain awake during the night. His brothers exploit this for pranks, but also strive to help him by strapping him to his horse before dawn so he can ride out with the army. He is childhood besties with Guinevere. Risa, Guinevere's handmaid, says Gawain is the best lover she's ever had. IKTR!! Gawain is the second born son of Morgan here, a bastard, as his elder brother Agravaine is the only wedlock son of Lot. They are Cornish instead of Orcadian, living in Morgan's childhood castle. He's very sweet & fun.

Exiled From Camelot by Cherith Baldry

Gawain is Kay's husband. There's no other way to say it. Gawain & Gareth are eternally loyal to Kay & Arthur both, but do their best to aid Kay as he struggles through the conflict of distrust, & eventual murder, of Arthur's son Loholt. Baldry's writing is always a treat.

In Camelot's Shadow by Sarah Zettel

The first of a series which begins with a romance between Gawain/Ragnelle combined with the story of the Green Knight. He kisses her when she has tusks what more can I say? There's an interesting family dynamic happening as well when she makes an allusion to becoming the sister of Gawain's brothers & Agravain gets upset by it, unbeknownst to her their father Lot threw their sister off a cliff (like the historical Teneu) so sisters are a sensitive subject. I think the family bonds are strongly present here which I always love in Gawain stories.

Lancelot by Gwen Rowley

Gawain by Gwen Rowley

Gawain is so insanely perfect here. His love for Aislyn (Ragnelle) is so intense & his sense of honor is persistent. His relationship with his mother is compelling, his love for his brothers tender & complicated. He has an interesting rivalry with Lancelot & he’s besties with Dinadan? Good food.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Gawaine is a part of Lancelot’s retinue, along with his brother Gareth the bard. They continuously have silly banter & hijinx. Gawaine stays home with Elaine when Lancelot & Gareth go to war, helping her when her fainting sickness worsens. After Galahad is born, he joins his brother in delivering him to Arthur & Guinevere before he moves on to grandpa Ban.

Prince Valiant (1954)

Gawain is funny here. Valiant knocks him out, mistaking him for the Black Knight, so Gawain adopts him, brings him home to Arthur & takes Valiant’s training to heart. He calls him Val it’s so cute. Later he accidentally falls in love with Valiant’s girlfriend, Aleta, while Aleta’s sister, Ilene, is in love with Gawain. Goofy.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Gawain is introduced early in the film. He runs into the hall afraid that he saw Lancelot covered in stuff he thought he was sick but turns out it was bubbles from soap Merlin had given him. (So he was watching Lancelot bathe? Do with that what you will.) Gawain & Lancelot are besties right until Lancelot accidentally kills Gareth while fleeing the castle. He & Gawain have a heartbreaking conflict & most of the battle is cut but Gawain sliced Lancelot’s face, gets bled all over, & then Lancelot has that scar forever. I’m normal about it.

Perceval (1978)

A French adaptation of The Story of the Grail by Chrétien de Troyes set on a stage. Gauvain is so funny & sweet here. After Sagramor & Kay get beat up by Perceval, Gauvain retrieves him for Arthur/Guinevere through friendship & leads him to the king & queen by the hand. Later he chats up the Lady of Lys & when caught with her, uses the chessboard as a shield. It’s epic.

Morte d'Arthur (1984)

In this reading & reenactment of Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, Gawain fulfills his exact role as his medlit counterpart, vouching for Lancelot after he's caught in the bedchamber of the queen, & going mad following the deaths of his brothers. He reappears in a dream to Arthur surrounded by beautiful maidens. Classic.

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

Gawain is the fun-loving elder brother of Agravaine & Mordred. He's best friends with Lancelot & cordial with everyone at court from Guinevere to Kai to Ninian to Pellinore. Following Guinevere's kidnapping by a Pictish prince, Gawain & Lancelot enter the Hidden World to save her & part ways onto their own paths. After taking a boat to a mysterious island, Gawain is briefly held prisoner, before a pig-faced girl named Ragnelle agrees to aid his escape in exchange for her freedom, which he agrees to. Despite the concerns of his uncle Arthur & mockery of his brothers, Gawain asks for Ragnelle's hand in marriage.

Gawain and the Green Knight (1991)

The most faithful adaptation in English. It tells the story with a unique format of Gawain already set out in his journey to meet the Green Knight recounting the story in chunks while resting at inns. The costuming & sets are bright & colorful, Bertilak is jolly & full of life, Green Knight is camp but also has a fun detail that his voice is raspy after getting beheaded. They kept the script alliterative like the poem which was cool.

King Arthur (2004)

Gawain played by Joel Edgerton is so sexy here. The movie isn’t good but it’s fun. Did I mention Gawain was hot?

Sire Gauvain et le Chevalier Vert (2014)

Leave it to the French to make a super horny version of SGATGK. Beautiful short film with little guy Gawain making out with Lady Bertilak/Sir Bertilak. His pentacle heraldry is front & center here. Loved the Green Knight’s deep gravelly voice. Kinda sexy.

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-1957)

Gawain is introduced while mourning the death of his brother whom was killed in the battle that ended just before the start of the show. He has a fragment of a sword that was left in the wound, which he discovers, with Guinevere’s help, matches a chunk broken off Lancelot’s sword. Gawain challenges him to a duel to the death, but Lancelot spares him, & they reconcile. Later, Gawain is a friend to Lancelot, even lending him his sword.

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Gawain is the eldest Orkney brother, son of Morgause/Lot, nephew of Arthur. He rules. He’s first introduced backing Gareth up when he wants to joust Bors for fun but Bors is like, “Begone fetus.” Gawain also vehemently discouraged Agravain from confronting Arthur about Lancelot & then let his lil bro fumble & refused to talk to Arthur just dipped out with Gareth. So funny. Big bro behavior. He also recognizes incognito Lancelot by the way he fights, goes on grail quest, & fails miserably. His fight with Lancelot over the death of Gareth is the most heartbreaking it’s ever been in my opinion. They fight until Gawain is falling over from exhaustion & just groaning about his revenge. Mordred’s betrayal is the final nail in the coffin & Gawain dies of heartbreak.

Merlin (1998)

Gawain is introduced alongside his father Lot when everyone comes to meet the “boy king” who just pulled the sword from the stone. Gawain supports Arthur, Lot doesn’t. Gawain joins Arthur in what is developing into a war against the rebelling kings, including Lot. Arthur ends up riding up alone & challenging Lot to a one on one, & gives him Excalibur to hold, which convinces Lot that Arthur is legit, so Gawain rides across the field to embrace his father (cries). Gawain loses in a joust to Lancelot which leaves Lancelot as Guinevere’s knight. Gawain leaves with Arthur to do battle, & they return to Camelot falling apart. Gawain & Lot advocate for Guinevere, whom Mordred says should be burned at the stake, but Lancelot has to rescue her. At the final battle, Lot is mortally wounded & Gawain holds him as he dies (cries harder).

Kaamelott (2004-2009)

Gauvain is a silly goose. I haven’t watched very much of this show but I love that he’s besties with Yvain.

Starz Camelot (2011)

One of the first Gawains I ever loved. He’s introduced in episode 3 as a warrior Leontes tries to enlist for Arthur with the help of Kay. He can’t read & is convinced to accompany them back to Camelot after Kay promises to teach him to read. He has two swords & he’s a really compelling character.

Rising Impact (2024)

A cheesy sports anime that stars Gawain. He falls in love with golf and moves to Tokyo to practice where he meets the local champion, Lancelot. They become friends & get scouted by Merlin to enroll at Arthur's Camelot Academy where they are trained to be professional golfers. At a competition with the British school, they golf against Tristan & Percival.

Games

Sonic and The Black Knight

Gawain is "played" by the red echidna, Knuckles, and a boss fight encounter for Sonic. He dual wields two swords collectively called "Galatine."

Camelot Crush: A Round Table Dating Sim

Gawain is one of the romancable characters.

Agravaine

Books

Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

Agravaine is super important here, Mordred’s confidant, his big bro who supports him whole heartedly. Agravaine’s wife Laurel is also important here, but from the ladies side. He has super hard hitting lines throughout & plays off Mordred’s philosophies really well.

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Agravaine is among Guinevere’s knights! He’s one of many that attempted to defend her when Meleagant comes to kidnap her. He’s present throughout the books, popping in & out of stories & then a partial catalyst alongside his brother Mordred for the fall of Camelot.

Sir Agravaine by P. G. Wodehouse

Agravaine of all time. He’s short, he’s nervous, he’s average looking at best. A total sweetheart that volunteers his aid to a likewise average looking gal named Yvonne who comes to court seeking aid against a dragon. On the journey they fall in love & marry. Adorable illustrations throughout.

Modred, A Fragment by Edwin Arlington Robinson

A tiny story that essentially covers a single conversation between Modred, Agravaine, & Colgrevance. Agravaine seems more hesitant to utilize Colgrevance in their plans as he's an honorable knight worries the trap will backfire. I think it speaks to his character that he wants to see justice done but values the life of others.

The Queen's Knight by Marvin Borowsky

Agravaine is so insane here. There’s no heterosexual explanation for anything he does. He wants Lancelot so bad it makes him look stupid. From literally moment one he’s obsessed & enlists solely because Lancelot invites him personally. Agravaine's also skilled in dressage? What a guy. He’s mentioned by name in the newspaper article about the book published in 1955 which is so cool. My boy is famous! Content warning for Mordred pederasty.

The Legend of King Arthur novelization by Andrew Davies

A great book based on a great show! The author of the novel also wrote the show! Agravain gets extra depth here. His inner thoughts are really compelling, his aspirations to attain the level of recognition Lancelot takes for granted, his reluctance to kill people to reach his goals, & his remorse after he does anyway.

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Agravaine is the eldest son of Morgan le Fay/Lot, older brother to Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, & Mordred. He’s a well-meaning guy, if painfully awkward & a nervous wreck. He frequently calls family meetings with his younger brothers to discuss matters so they can stand as a united front. He helps Gawain manage his sun powers disability & remains fiercely loyal to Arthur, whom he consistently calls “uncle.” He’s also chill with Lancelot for a change. Once Agravaine realized Lancelot had been tricked/trapped by Elaine, he went to the tower they were in & brought Lancelot a horse to help him escape. Agravaine’s pro-adultery & made a pact with Gawain, Gaheris, & Gareth to protect Guinevere. After Morgan retires to live in the Lake Kingdom, he becomes king of Cornwall, where he eventually dies of old age.

The Book of Mordred by Peter Hanratty

Agravaine is a cousin of Mordred whom he meets at boarding school. After getting caught in bed with another boy, Agravaine was sent there to give his father time to smooth the scandal over. He mistakes Mordred's philosophical talk regarding otherness to mean he knows Agravaine's secret & he freaks him out as he desperately tries to remain closeted.

First Knight novelization by Elizabeth Chadwick

Hear me out. The 1995 movie is bad, but Chadwick’s book is pretty damn good. It obviously focuses mostly on Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot, but Agravaine’s semi-prominent role in the movie is expanded somewhat & we even get his pov! He’s honorable & interesting.

By Camelot's Blood by Sarah Zettel

Agravain is present in each book of the series, but this final installment is about his arranged marriage to Laurel. It's so delicious. Perfect characterization. He’s the type that’s actually extremely anxious all the time but it manifests to everyone else as cold & withdrawn. He doesn’t even know Laurel, they’re a “pair the spares” situation, but actually have a lot in common, particularly their devotion to their families & countries. Word comes that Lot is dying, he’s been mad for years after Morgause disappeared, so Laurel/Agravain head north to deal with that. Laurel has magic so she helps combat the supernatural forces at play. The couple fall in love during this whole time it’s very sweet I love them so much.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Agravaine first appears alongside Mordred & Morgan at the sword in the stone. He’s sent by Mordred to intervene as Arthur travels through the woods but runs into Lancelot/Elaine instead. After getting his ass kicked, he doesn’t do a lot aside from appear at Mordred’s side the whole movie. At the end he jumps Lancelot outside Guinevere’s chamber, gets his face burned off by a torch, then comes back for round two before Lancelot kills him which was pretty metal.

Morte d'Arthur (1984)

In this reading & reenactment of Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, Agravain fulfills his exact role as his medlit counterpart, scheming with Mordred & subsequently slain by Lancelot outside Guinevere's chamber door.

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

Agravaine gay as hell for Lancelot once again. Introduced by Merlin’s narration as a villain, Agravaine’s first order of business is to get drunk with Gawain then try to fight Lancelot for literally no reason. Agravaine tries to tackle Lancelot as he walks by but gets caught by Gawain, “Gently, gently, little brother!” After Guinevere’s kidnapped by Grak, Arthur leaves Agravaine behind to watch Camelot. Word comes of Arthur’s death, & Mordred crowns himself king, with Agravaine just hanging out vibing, though he’s aghast when Arthur turns up alive. Later he goes with Gawain to retrieve Lancelot/Guinevere from the Hidden World. At the end, he stations men outside the chamber to catch Lancelot/Guinevere, but when Mordred goes to “fetch” Arthur, he returns instead with Excalibur, having killed Arthur. Agravaine is horrified by the unjust death of his king, but succumbs to the sunk cost fallacy, proceeds with the plan, & dies in the battle.

TV Shows

The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Agravain comes to court with Aunt Morgan & younger brother Mordred. He’s immediately on Lancelot/Guinevere’s case, openly rejecting Courtly Love (for heterosexual reasons). After spying on the couple, he talks to Gawain & Gareth about it, though they yell at him & desperately try to get him to understand it’s none of his business. After Mordred pretends he doesn’t know anything, Agravain goes to Arthur & explains his position, concerned over Arthur’s honor. He’s scolded & sent away like a wounded puppy as none of the others side with him. Later Morgan comes up with a plan to feed Guinevere “truth teller” peaches to make her confess. Guinevere gives her peach to Guido who eats it instead, & dies, leaving Guinevere accused of murder. Agravain is horrified & starts to panic, saying, “The Queen is guilty of much but she is innocent in this. If she is condemned, we are damned!” Studying him in a lab. These events morally degrades him. Later he’s eager to frame Guinevere as if she’s slept with Lancelot, which she hadn’t, then deliver her to the stake, where Lancelot kills him.

Gaheris

Books

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Gaheris starts out as Gawain’s wee squire & accompanies him on his adventures. Later he’s knighted himself & pops in & out of the story similarly to his role in Malory, although he is a morally good character here, never hurting his mother, & his death alongside Gareth is all the more tragic because of it.

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Gaheris is the middle-born Orkney bro but an important part of the family unit, working with Agravaine to help Gawain overcome his disability so he can participate in the battle. Later he becomes very austere & priest-like. A different Gaheris than we’re used to seeing, but interesting nonetheless.

The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf by Gerald Morris

This is BIG SPOILERS, but Gaheris was cursed to be a dwarf. While Lynette struggles with her unrequited love for Gareth, who only has eyes for her sister, the dwarf Roger that has been her companion ends up transforming back into his true form, a knight named Gaheris who wins her heart. It’s very romantic.

Gawain by Gwen Rowley

Gaheris shows up to help Ragnelle’s brother Gromer escape a sticky situation, then comes to court. He & Arthur are both grossed out by Ragnelle, but Ragnelle says she recalls (before she was cursed) Gaheris had been her favorite of Gawain’s little brothers. He’s so sweet & funny!

Movies

Morte d'Arthur (1984)

In this reading & reenactment of Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, Gaheris fulfills his exact role as his medlit counterpart, dying at the stake beside Gareth.

Gareth

Books

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Gareth is the favorite son of Margaise/Lot. He leaves home to make his own way and comes to Arthur's court without a name. He's not very deferential to Arthur, which Kay calls out, only for Gareth to be rude back. From here Kay takes him into the kitchens, names him Beaumains, & puts him to work. He grows up on his adventure with Lynette & marries Layonnesse.

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Gareth is the second youngest son of Morgan le Fay. He's described as unattractive & awkward. He immediately attaches himself to Lancelot & becomes fixated on him. He's so confident that Lancelot is perfect that he dislikes Guinevere for "corrupting" him but ultimately follows his older brothers' leads to protect her from the scrutiny of those who would expose the affair.

Under Camelot's Banner by Sarah Zettel

The third book in a series which follows Gareth's journey through knighthood & romance with Lynet. He starts out very cocky & unlikable despite apprenticing with Lancelot. Against his brothers' advisement, he challenges Uncle Kai to a duel & loses terribly.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Gareth is a harper in Lancelot's party & the brother of Gawaine. He has a gorgeous singing voice & often encourages Lancelot to join in to coax him out of his melancholy. He & Gawaine have a sweet playful rivalry throughout the movie. After Galahad is born, Gawaine & Gareth bring him south for Arthur/Guinevere to meet before he's sent to grandpa Ban.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Gareth is a minor character spoken to by Gawain a handful of times before he's ultimately slain by Lancelot. This is Gawain's motivation for challenging Lancelot to a duel.

Morte d'Arthur (1984)

In this reading & reenactment of Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, Gareth fulfills his exact role as his medlit counterpart, dying at the stake beside Gaheris.

TV Shows

The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Gareth is the second eldest son of Morgause/Lot. He comes to court with Gawain. He's a hot-headed youth who challenges Bors to a duel for the fun of it. Later when Agravain & Mordred broach the subject of Guinevere/Lancelot's relationship, Gareth says, "Their love is innocent! The king smiles on it!" Later, after Guinevere is accused of murder, Mador de le Porte is going to fight Lancelot, Gareth takes a boat ride with Bors to talk with him about faith & whether or not Lancelot will win in defense of Guinevere as it's a righteous cause. Later, after Guinevere/Lancelot are caught together, Gareth goes with Agravain to the stake where she's to be burned. When Lancelot & Bors come to rescue her, he's trampled to death by mistake.

Mordred

Books

Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

Possibly the best Mordred ever written. He learns he's Arthur's son right as the kingdom proves fraught with problems Arthur is either unable to or incapable of handling. Mordred first confides his true parentage in Agravaine. From there, their philosophical talk escalates, & they ultimately set the plan to usurp into motion. Mordred is uniquely grounded here with entirely valid concerns for the well-being & stability of the kingdom.

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Mordred is in all but the very first of Howard Pyle's books. Like Agravaine, he's mostly just hanging out before the fall of Camelot is initiated.

The Queen's Knight by Marvin Borowsky

Mordred is unrelated to Arthur in this book. He's an enemy warlord conquering the land. The story follows many perspectives but Mordred's is fascinating & compelling. Content warning for pederasty as Mordred is portrayed as a repressed gay man who eventually sleeps with a youth before embracing his sexuality afterward, even developing a relationship with Colgrevance during his time undercover "defeated" at Camelot.

Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Mordred is Karr's babygirl & it shows. The book is first person Kay's perspective, but Mordred is his worstie & they go traveling together in pursuit of Lancelot so he can defend Guinevere from the murder accusation after Patrise is poisoned. Mordred plainly knows more about himself (ie, Arthur is his father) than he's letting on, & he's descending into a kind of madness about it, which Kay is perplexed by.

The Book of Mordred by Peter Hanratty

The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty

Mordred is introduced as a neglected child of Arthur living with his witch mother Morgause in the woods. Sensing apparent danger, she abruptly leaves him, but he's found by Palomides & brought to Arthur, not knowing his mother has been burned at the stake. After arriving at court, Mordred struggles to find his place, befriending a young Galahad, then his cousin Agravaine, but not quite fitting in anywhere. He's well-read & nurtures his own philosophies about the world. He develops an eating disorder among other self-destructive behaviors. He goes on Grail Quest with Lancelot & Galahad. He advocates for the well-fare of monsters they find along the way, defending them from Galahad who would see them all murdered. In book 2, it's post-Camlann, & the protagonist is young Percival. He travels around Britain encountering many people displaced by Mordred's war with Arthur as well as meeting Mordred himself. The third book in the series in German & I haven't scanned it yet so I don't know how the trilogy ends. :^(

A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

Norris J. Lacy, beloved editor of the Vulgate, blesses us with his own retelling full of entirely good takes. He's a genius. The first part is told by Merlin, second part by Guinevere, & finally Mordred says his piece. It's a fascinating structure which allows for enough narrative openness to indicate the unreliable narrations of each protagonist. Mordred is painted in a starkly unflattering light before we hear his perspective. It's heartbreaking to see how the tragic events of his life shaped his belief. His rationale makes a surprising amount of sense. Despite the perception of his traitorous acts, he believes he's acting honorably by taking down the tyrant Arthur for the benefit of the country, going so far as to say it's not murder if he dies too. It's evident by the time the narrative reaches him, he's resigned to his fate, but considers it a worthy sacrifice.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Modred isn't Arthur's son but appears to be his nephew (Morgan, his mother (I think?) is the "step"-sister of Arthur). He's contesting Arthur for the right to rule, but fails to pull the sword from the stone. After Agravaine fails to assassinate Arthur thanks to an intervention by Lancelot, a war between the two factions breaks out, Modred, Morgan, Agravaine, & the other regional kings versus Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin, Gawain, Gareth, Percival, & the loyalists. After Modred loses, he, Morgan, & Agravaine join Arthur's court & lay low for many years, plotting. They repeatedly attempt to expose Guinevere/Lancelot's love, but fail until after Lancelot's wife Elaine passes away & he returns to court for good. That's when Agravaine exposes the affair & sets the battle of Camlann into motion. Modred doesn't die here, but mortally wounds Arthur. After Lancelot & Percival put Arthur to rest, Lancelot battles Modred to the death & kills him.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Mordred is introduced early as a knight of the Round Table & Arthur's bastard son. He has a tiny falcon Griselda he carries everywhere on his shoulder & talks to. (Agravaine got replaced ig.) Mordred has a romantic relationship with Vivian, a handmaiden of Guinevere's, whom he manipulates into spying for him. He's the butt of jokes from Dagonet for his obvious jealousy & desire to be recognized as Arthur's heir. After exposing Lancelot/Guinevere, he eggs Arthur on in the war against Lancelot. Ultimately, Lancelot & Lamorak are banished to Brittany, but Gawain comes to fetch them after Mordred killed Arthur. Lancelot returns to Britain to battle Mordred & kills him in a sword fight.

Camelot (1967)

Mordred is introduced late in the musical, but he's so cunty in his leather outfit. Tragically his song Seven Deadly Virtues is cut. He bamboozles Arthur & worms his way into the king's confidence, carefully approaching the subject of Guinevere/Lancelot. He eventually reveals the affair & brings in his brothers & friends to lend aid to his cause. The final battle at Camlann isn't shown.

Excalibur (1981)

Mordred is a product of Morgana transforming herself into Guinevere & becoming pregnant with him through Arthur. She raises him in isolation as the land around them withers & the remaining knights search for the Holy Grail. Young Mordred is played by director John Boorman's son. He wears golden armor which reminds me of Greek or Roman armor that has abs carved into it. His helmet has a face as well it's cool. He lures Percival to Morgana's lair where they attempt to trap & kill him, but he escapes. Much later, Mordred has reached adulthood & at last goes to Camelot to meet Arthur & challenge him. It's not until Arthur is restored by the Holy Grail that he's able to ride out, retrieve Excalibur from Guinevere, then go to battle with Mordred. Merlin's ghost shows up & tricks Morgana into using the last of her magic to cover the battlefield in fog & costs Mordred his advantage. He strangles her to death & then battles Arthur, but he's struck through the chest with a spear, hitting Arthur with his own sword before he dies. Iconic. Gorgeous film. 10/10.

Morte d'Arthur (1984)

In this reading & reenactment of Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, Mordred fulfills his exact role as his medlit counterpart, initiating the trap for Guinevere/Lancelot. The actor is very evocative with his movements & wears black eyeliner. He even hugs Arthur.

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

Mordred is Arthur's bastard son by Morgause. He's pretty lame & whimpy, weak & cowardly. He tries to impress Arthur but fails continuously, even with auntie Morgan's attempts to help. He's besties with Agravaine. He helps facilitate Guinevere's kidnapping by Grak. In the extended cut he has a yucky incest relationship with Morgan that we're going to ignore. He's present at Gawain & Ragnelle's wedding then the next we see him, he's working with Agravaine to expose Guinevere/Lancelot together in the chamber. Mordred goes to Arthur to try & get him to see that Lancelot has betrayed him with the queen. Arthur refuses, but they have a brief heart-to-heart & embrace. Mordred stabs Arthur in the back & steals Excalibur. Agravaine is shook but they push onward. Everyone dies except Mordred who flees Lancelot & returns to Morgan. She summons a dragon but Lancelot defeats that too & Merlin helps by killing Morgan. When Mordred sees he's beat, he tries to surrender, but Lancelot kills him immediately it's kinda funny how anti-climactic it was. Not Mordred's most courageous portrayal, but I like the movie as a whole.

Camelot (1998)

Listen, trust me. I know it's ugly. But hey, written by Peter S. Beagle, okay? Mordred is the son of Morgause/Arthur, arriving at Camelot from the Isle of Avalon where he was raised. Arthur embraces him immediately. Things go awry quickly as Mordred notices the love between Guinevere/Lancelot. When he brings it up to Arthur, Mordred sees for the first time there are limits to Arthur's love. He decides he has to prove it to his father to get him to understand, & sets a trap to catch the couple together. It works, except he didn't account for pro-adultery Arthur, who actually knocks Mordred out himself to allow Guinevere/Lancelot an escape. Later as the factions divide up, Gawain on Arthur's side, Palomides on Lancelot's, etc, they try to reconcile on the field, when a fight breaks out & the battle commences. Arthur is mortally wounded in the fray, which stops the fight immediately. Guinevere, Lancelot, & Mordred run to Arthur & tearfully fuss over him. Vivian & Merlin appear to take Arthur away to Avalon, where his spirit reunites with Morgause.

Arthur & Merlin: Knights of Camelot (2020)

This story follows the plot of Alliterative Morte Arthure. Arthur has seemingly abandoned Camelot in the interest of conquest of Rome. Modred, his bastard son, remained behind & has usurped the throne. He's destroyed the Round Table in favor of a rectangle one with himself at the head. Arthur's loyalists, Agravain, Bedivere, Lucan, & Guinevere try to resist him, but when Modred's magic lady Antigone kills Agravain, they know it's useless. Bedivere & Lucan depart to retrieve Arthur which leaves Guinevere at court to continue resisting Modred's attempts to rule & increasingly forward advances. Guinevere resists him she's the best it's lowkey funny he acts all tough but he's clearly intimidated by her, as she says herself, she's known him since he was a child & refuses to fear him. But eventually he bribes a priest to marry them & they're kneeling at the altar when Lucan shoots & kills the priest (lol) as Arthur's men descend into the hall & kill all of Mordred's men. Eventually Mordred's forces are overpowered & he surrenders at Arthur's feet. Arthur refuses to kill his son & banishes him instead.

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949)

Mordred is introduced alongside Bors as the favorites to win the joust, but they're both defeated by a Fair Unknown who reveals himself to be Galahad. Mordred appears in every episode as both Arthur's advisor as well as the antagonist trying to undermine Galahad's rise to knighthood. He's so funny to me, the way he wrestles Galahad to the pull the sword from the stone, tries to torture him, his cunty fits. Love it.

The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Mordred is the youngest son of Morgause/Lot. He comes to court with his aunt Morgan & brother Agravain, immediately gossiping about all the court's goings on. He nudges Agravain into his obsession with Lancelot/Guinevere, strategically abandoning the cause when they fly too close to the sun & rouse Arthur's ire. He's clever & obedient to his aunt Morgan. He's a smooth talker who hypes his brothers & sucks up to Guinevere/Arthur, fully convincing them he's a good & honest knight. After Arthur & Gawain head to Gaunes to challenge Lancelot, Mordred usurps the throne & allies with the Saxons, against Morgan's wishes. When Guinevere returns to court, she plots with Bedivere & Griflet to warn Arthur, who returns to fight Mordred. Mordred feigns surrender before stabbing Arthur, receiving a mortal sword blow in return.

Merlin (1998)

Mordred is the son of Morgan le Fay/Arthur. He's raised at Tintagel with his mother & some fay people. He grows to manhood faster than normal & shows up at court as Arthur returns war. Mordred fans the flames of animosity between Guinevere/Arthur by exposing the affair & turning the crowd against her. But she's rescued from the stake by Lancelot. Mordred ultimately goes to battle with Arthur. He's nearly defeated when he stabs Arthur & receives his death wound. So sassy. So sexy. Cunty. Fierce. Not here for a long time but here for a good time.