#even more so giving me a holler over at ao3

[sundogsandrainbows]

STORY SUMMARY: Trust is a delicate flower that needs to get nurtured and time to grow. Even more so love. A tale of two disparate Wardens forced together, of finding a way to overcome the distrust, and their own painful past in the time of the Blight. Very in-depth, character-focused exploration of the Dalish origin/warden, of all DA:O companions, and their relationship dynamics during the Fifth Blight. Follows and expands on canon events; AU in some ways. Multiple POV's, origins, and pairings. Slow burn af.

CHAPTER 52 SUMMARY -- SOUNDS OF YESTERDAY, PART I: In order to find the key for the chest left behind by Cailan in Ostagar, the Wardens and companions make a very reluctant detour to Lothering. Or rather what little is left of it, with it being now a destroyed, corrupted husk of a village.

CHAPTER EXCERPT:

[...] Smoke billows cloyed the firmament, obscuring what little daylight was left. Alistair had the infinite wisdom to take a torch with him, lest he’d stumble blindly through the torn down ruins of this village. What made it hard to breathe and watered his eyes wasn’t just the plumes of smoke from the fires still burning. It was the corruption here, like a leaden cobweb it wrapped itself all around them, stealing all life and oxygen. No wonder the man they’d met had contracted the taint sickness for entering here, for it was absolutely and entirely darkspawn territory now. Dead land, rotten and destroyed to what seemed its core. Unthinkable that it could ever recover from it, not with how thick the stench of death permeated the air.

“Ugh, lovely.” Lenya kicked at a stone in frustration. He illuminated the ground for a closer look at it, which was a baaaad idea in hindsight. Since it wasn’t a stone after all… but a small skull, long since picked clean. Maker, if that wasn’t belonging to an animal then… no. Nope. Nope . Refusal to complete this thought was the best course of action here, and the only valid one. “It is even worse than I expected it to be here.”

“Yeah.” Hard to imagine now that they were walking through this then-intact village almost half a year ago. Fresh-faced and thrown together after the tragedy that was Ostagar and their near death experience, in the search for information and equipment for their larger than life quest. It always had held the air of despair, filled to the brim with refugees as it were, but this here… was a completely disparate world. Theirs , to be exact. And every place would look like this, whole cities turned graveyards, should they fail. So many more people would die, futures and hopes crushed underfoot by incessant floods of darkspawn hordes. It was all the pressure, all the burden now visualized in this forsaken place; of what was at stake and expected of them both –just the two of them– that robbed him of all oxygen. How could he ever— The ground began to spin around him and with the torch still in hand, Alistair stumbled to a house's ruin at the side, to empty out his stomach into the snow-covered, decayed soil in front of it. The torch cluttered to the ground as he doubled over to heave. [...]

[CONTINUE READING] ||[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 14

part 1 | part 13 | ao3

fuckin' finally some FLUFF

Dinner is awkward.

It’s awkward, Steve thinks as he spears a Brussels sprout with more force than strictly necessary, because Dustin promised that it was just going to be the three of them tonight, and now he’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his leather-clad metalhead neighbor.

It went like this: Steve showed up at the Henderson’s front door with a pie plate and a two-liter of Grapico under his arm, looking like a dork on picture day in his best jeans and a nice polo with his hair actually combed for once, and he lifted his hand to knock only to be greeted by Eddie throwing the door open and hollering, “Be right back, Henderson! Gotta grab— oh, shit.” 

And then, more eloquently, “Uh…” 

Uh. Like Steve was the one unexpectedly crashing the party.

Steve stabs another sprout. 

They’ve been bumbling through stilted small talk about work and school and weekend plans for what feels like a painfully long time, and Eddie has his elbows on the table — didn’t even bother to take his jacket off because he was apparently raised in a barn — and it’s basically dinner with Barb’s parents all over again. 

This is finger-lickin’ good.  

God. Get him out of here.

“Okay,” Dustin cuts through the stalled-out silence in the room. He jabs an accusatory fork into the air, pointing between the two of them and narrowing his eyes. “You two are being weird.” 

Eddie startles dumbly, and Steve just says, “Hmm?”

“You.” He aims the fork at Steve. “Are being.” It moves to Eddie; back to Steve. “Weird. What’s going on? I thought you two were getting along now.” 

Steve dabs his mouth with his napkin. Wow. Okay. So they’re doing this now.

Eddie either doesn’t get the memo or just decides to rip it up, because instead of being honest he throws on a theatrical smile and flings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, proclaiming, “Of course we are! C’monnn. Me and this guy?” He reaches up to give Steve a gentle noogie. Steve wonders if you can get a more lenient sentence if the guy you murdered really, really deserved it. “Thick as thieves.” 

Claudia smiles fondly.

Dustin’s not buying it. “You’re so full of shit, you know that?”

“Dusty!” Claudia gasps. She gives him a stern look as she tops off her wine glass, then leans over to do the same for Steve and Eddie’s glasses, too. “Stevie, honey, don’t listen to him,” she soothes. “I think it’s sweet. It’s good to see you with some boyfriends your own age.”

Dustin chokes at her word choice, and Steve blushes to his ears. 

Eddie’s arm tightens around his shoulders. “Yeah, Stevie,” he smirks, leaning in a little closer. “We’re great boyfriends, aren’t we?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dustin joins in, “best boyfriends I’ve ever seen.” 

Surely murder’s just murder, right? Like, from a sentencing perspective? Does it matter how many people you off, or do you just get thirty-to-life regardless?

“Steve, tell mom more about your boyfriend.”

Steve chugs his glass of wine.

—

The conversation turns to less embarrassing topics after that, the words flowing more easily now that everyone’s warmed up with wine and making fun of Steve. Claudia asks what everyone’s doing for Halloween, and Dustin tells her that Eddie and Steve are taking the boys trick-or-treating in the neighborhood with the good candy bars (which was news to Steve, goddammit), and that leads to a discussion of costume plans. 

Dustin and Mike are going as a pair again, Marty and Doc from Back to the Future. Lucas is doing his own thing, but he's "totally delusional if he thinks a costume is gonna win Max back." Steve doesn’t really have a costume this year, so he’ll probably just pull some sweats out of the closet, throw a whistle around his neck and go as a basketball coach, and Eddie, surprisingly, has the lowest effort costume of them all. 

“Oh, I’m going as a vampire,” he says when Claudia asks. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out some cheap plastic teeth and pops them into his mouth. “Ta-daaa.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “You just carry those around?” 

“Isn’t it awesome?” Dustin asks.

“Not really, no. It’s not.” 

“But S’theeeve,” Eddie lisps around the fangs. The wine’s made him weirder, playful and too-friendly and berry pink in the cheeks. He holds his sleeve in front of his face like a vampire hiding behind a cape and drawls, “I vant to s’thuck your bloood.”

Steve vants to jump out the window. “I’m gonna go serve the pie.” 

—

part 15

tags below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow 🩷

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @steddieas-shegoes @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @teatimeeverybody @thealwithnoname @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve

[acapelladitty]

take a drink from an empty cup

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: Pursued by the infamous ghoul who is hunting you across the wastelands, you find that he has a very creative plan in place to punish you for your continued disobedience. (3.1k words).

(warnings for: cnc play, forced deepthroat, orgasm control, rope restriants, physical violence, oral sex, blood, threats of violence, unprotected sex, fingering, mild aftercare, dark humour, subspace, predator/prey)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Rapid feet kicking up soft plumes of red dirt as they pound across the dusty ground, the heat of the sun on your exposed skin bears down like a sheepskin blanket - your slickened skin feeling hot and uncomfortable despite the chill of anxiety which powers your frantic movements.

Panting as you duck behind the corner of a building, your ears strain for any sound, any whisper of your attackers whereabouts. Wearing only a tattered shirt and light-coloured panties, you're too consumed by fear to have any shame about your state of undress.

A low whistle forces your spine to straighten, eyes peeking around the corner as you watch him appear from the depths of a side street.

"Running ain't gonna save you, sweetie. Best give up before you really piss me off."

The Ghoul.

Cooper Howard.

The man hunting you with the casualness of a cat preying on an injured bird, certain of the victory to come.

You could hear it in his voice, in the way that his low tones carry with ease across the abandoned town as they swept across you with the breeze.

"If you're unlucky enough, you might catch the attention of the gang in the next town over. I hear they use their finds to entertain the dogs or sometimes the odd deathclaw if it's behaved well enough." Cooper paused, his head visibly scanning the ground as he sought out your messy tracks. "Hell, might even do that myself if you keep playin' so hard to get."

His footfalls are steady as they approach the corner you're hiding behind, the polar opposite of your own trembling limbs, and a surge of strength forces you to push off from your hiding spot and make a break for it. You don't dare turn around and look at him but you hear his speed increase as he zeroes in on his hunted prey.

He's faster, he always is, and his hands lock around your shoulders as the solid heat of him pulls you flush to his chest.

"Caught you, sweetheart. Now let's see about taking what's mine."

Body thrashing as the hard bulge of his cock presses against the lower end of your back, a feral howl - half fear and half rage - claws free of your throat and you slam your elbow back. It connects with his groin, and his hands drop from your shoulders like they had burned him as his face twists into a violent scowl.

"Motherfucker!" Cupping his cock through his slacks with a tender motion, you take the momentay distraction to run once more and refuse to look back at him as he recovers and continues to hollers his threats after you. "You'll pay for that, darling. Eye for an eye and I take mine with teeth."

You run on adrenaline, the frayed shirt whipping around your upper thighs with every quick turn as you seek out an escape route. Eyeing up a set of wooden stairs which lead to the upper level of a nearby building, you bolt for them with a sudden swing of your hips.

You don't feel the rope of the lasso closing around your foot until it's too late.

One moment, you're running, and the next you find yourself slamming into the wooden boards with a pained yelp - your knees and tits catching on the edge of the stairs as your mouth glances off the banister, bursting your lower lip in a sharp flash of pain as the taste of copper immediately fills your mouth.

Stunned as hell, you can't even catch a breath as you flip to your back, staring up at the unforgiving sun.

Cooper, his hand coiled around the other end of the rope, is just as unforgiving and he tugs the length with a vicious heave - the pressure enough to snatch you closer and pull you down a few stairs. The strong wood clatters against the back of your head with a horrid intensity, the bump of two stairs causing stars to flash in your vision as they leave a dull ache in their wake.

He's on you like a pack of wild dogs, his body dropping atop your own to pin you to the stairs by the sheer weight of him. Bruised and battered, you can't muster the strength to fight him off and instead the pathetic writhe of your body only seems to excite him more as his face swims before your own.

"Seems to me like you owe me an apology, little lady. Now," Cooper pauses and his hand wraps around your chin to force you to meet his eye, "I could be a bad man and treat you nasty, beating that lovely hide til it bleeds and glows even redder than mine, but that's not what's gonna happen here."

Whimpering, his knee drops to press roughly against your lower stomach, emphasising just how utterly trapped you were as his smug, leathered face blocks the sun from your gaze.

"Where I'm from, we kiss and make up, and since it wasn't my mouth you chose to smack up, I think you'll be better suited putting those pretty lips elsewhere."

"N-no." You stutter out, a low whine increasing in pitch as his other hand pulls at your hair, his grip igniting fire in your scalp. "Please, no."

His hand scores across your face, the blow not enough to cause any real pain outside of disturbing your busted lip, but definitely enough to put an end to your refusals as you gaze up at him with watery eyes.

"Bite and I'll take those teeth, mind." Cooper warns, his brow furrowing in warning as the hole of his nose flares. "One by one. I'm sure you've taken ghoul cock before, sweetheart. What's one more, huh?"

As he speaks, he frees his cock with an excited grunt and his grip on your hair grows even more rough while he yanks at the strands to encourage your lips to part, uncaring of the split lip which is still gently bleeding.

"Nice and slow."

Incapable of doing much more, you open your mouth and accept his cock with a low whimper. He's already excited and as the tip of his cock glances off your tongue, you can taste his pre-cum, the pearly liquid more acrid than anything you'd tasted before. His cock is thick, the girth of it already threateneing to make your jaw ache as he slides himself across your mouth a few times - testing out your limits with a tight control.

"Oh yeah." Cooper rumbles. "This'll do. Time to work on your breathing, sweetheart."

Canting his hips forward, the tip of his cock buries itself down your throat and the suddenness of the movement makes your body startle - reawakening the various aches of your earlier fall as you choke around his cock and desperately claw at his clothed thighs with your fingers.

He ignores your distress, instead focusing on his own pleasure as he alternates between using his hand to guide your head along his cock and thrusting his own groin forward; both actions merciless in their treatment as an obscenely wet noise fills the space.

Head bobbing along his cock forcefully, nausea rises in your chest as his textured skin rams into the back of your throat - sparking your gag relax as you swallow around his cock in open panic.

"Keep massaging my cock like that, darlin', and I won't make it to the main event."

Cooper growls the words, smirking down at your misery as your vision swims, and he snatches his cock free with one swift pull.

Coughing and spluttering, you inhale big gulps of air and they burn your lungs like fresh hell - a light-headedness making your skull pound as you desperately try to fix yourself.

Lying like a broken marionette doll, your strings well and truly cut, you can't do anything but whimper anew as his rough hands grip their way up your thighs to cup at your cunt though your panties.

"You'll not be needing these any time soon." Cooper grunts, ripping the panties from you with a wicked strength; the fabric tearing like paper as you shudder and attempt to close your thighs around his hand. A move which quickly draws a low cry from your lips as he responds by pinching at your clit roughly with two fingers.

"Play nice, sweetheart, or I'll play rough. And you won't like that as much. In fact-"

The world spins as he flips you from your back, strong hands easily maneuvering you to ensure that your body is positioned on the stairs to allow him easy access to your holes - your head pressing into a higher stair as you tilt your face to allocate the pressure on your busted up lip.

Something like a sob slips free of your lips as one of his hands presses down heavily on your lower back, forcing your ass to arch up higher, as his other hands cups at your sex once more.

"Hmm, but which hole to use? I'm sure that hole has seen enough action to make any ride as smooth as a whisky sour." His fingers tease along your slit, refusing to push any deeper as they trail up to your skin and brush along the rim of your ass. "But then, if I want a tighter ride then maybe this fine ass would be better, might even learn you a lesson about showing respect too. I ain't afraid of a bucking bronco and I'm sure you'd take it like a champ."

"Not there." You mutter out, voice defeated. "Please."

"Hmm, then you better be good and I'll see about giving the little whore what she wants." You can hear the smirk in his tone as he gropes your body like a butcher measuring up a fresh hunk of meat. "Say it, sweetheart, ask me to fuck you and I'll let you choose."

"Plea-please fuck me?" The words taste sour against your tongue, the heat from his body making your head feel fuzzy. That, or the multiple knocks on the stairs were finally getting to you. Regardless, tears threaten the corners of your eyes once more as you are forced to play his little game. "I want you to- to fuck me."

"Well now," giving a low whistle as he lines the blunted head of his cock up with your cunt, Cooper has the gall to sound smug at the ask, "what kind of gentleman would I be to ignore such a request from a pretty little thing?"

With a single thrust of his hips, he buries his cock to the hilt within your cunt and the sudden burn of your flesh as it's forced to stretch and give way to his cock draws a strangled yelp of pain from your lips. His earlier actions having sparked some arousal in your traitorous frame, you weren't fully dry and Cooper chuckled lowly as his felt the moisture surrounding his cock as he stilled his hips.

"Well, well, well." He growls, his groin hot against your own as his balls hang heavy against your cunt. "Looks like this little hellcat isn't as unwilling as she wants me to think. You're soaked, sweetie."

Hot shame making you slam your eyes shut as you adjust to the pressure of his cock, you feel the heat of your walls being pulled roughly as he starts to lazily thrust. Every stroke is awful in how determined it is to make you feel every textured inch of his cock, Cooper pulling free until only the head is breaching your hole before slamming deep once more - his cock glancing off your cervix painfully.

Worse than that, is just how good it feels.

The ridged and slightly rough texture of his cock stimulates every nerve in your heated hole and the betraying arousal only serves to make the growing band of arousal in your gut even more cruel in its intensity.

It's uncomfortable, it's hot, and it's so fucking good.

Body aching despite the distraction of his cock, you try to focus on the building pleasure as a means to escape the other more shitty feelings which afflict you. In spite of it all, the tight band of pleasure across your groin is undeniable and his cock seems to brush the sensitive spot inside you with pinpoint precision, every thrust making your toes curl while you whimper and whine.

You come with a startled gasp, waves of pleasure crashing through your body as your cunt spasms around his cock - pulling him deeper as your walls milk him for what he's worth. He seems to appreciate it though, as his pace - if possible - grows even sloppier and his groin makes a obscene slapping noise while it bounces off your ass.

Overly sensitive, you squeak in discomfort as he continues to fuck himself into you without mercy; dragging your orgasm out until you're cunt feels heated and your limbs ache from the constant flex of the muscles. He's vocal too - grunts and low growls of pleasure marking his movements as his thick hands pin you into place to give his cock unfettered access to your hole.

Eventually, you feel his cock give a very definite twitch within your cunt and you gasp anew as a fresh heat floods your walls; his release pumping itself as deeply within your hole as it can while he remains flush against your ass.

"Goddamn, sweetie. Ain't nothing like it."

He pulls his cock free, the hardened length only just beginning to wilt and you feel the mess that coats every inch as it slips free. Body feeling well used and deliciously uncomfortable, you stay in place, unsure of what he plans for you next and in no fit state to escape without further injury.

"Smooth as a whisky sour." Cooper repeats his earlier words, his voice sated and low with his satisfactory use of your hole. "But i'm sure you got another good one in you."

His hand is harsh against your back again until the pressure forces your ass up higher - the combined mess in your cunt dripping free to the wooden stair below.

Panic reignites in your chest as a sinking feeling alerts you to his plans.

"I can't- please, don't! Please!"

He ignores you and you feel his rough fingers pressing along your slit until he finds the target of his little game - your clit already swollen and making itself an easier target. His forefinger grazes the nub and the intensity of the touch makes you howl as fresh lightning scores across your spine.

It only takes him a few deliberate movements, rough strokes giving way to a more gentle circling motion and your cunt clenches around nothing as he easily pulls a second orgasm from you; your legs painfully tense as you bury your cries in the skin of your forearm and hump your cunt in the warm air, wordlessly encouraging his fingers to push you even further.

"Greedy little thing." Cooper chastises, enjoying how pathetic your movements are as the shame of being forced to come around his fingers only serves to make the pleasure all the sweeter. "Look at how shameless you are, darling', pretending that you aren't desperate to be wrapped around my cock again."

Denying it with a frantic shake of your head, you ride his fingers regardless until he takes pity and pulls his hand away from your overstimulated and aching cunt - your legs trembling and fists clenching against the hard grain of the wooden stair.

Cooper exhales deeply, his body rolling from your own as he lays flat out on the stair by your side. The scent of sex and sweat hands heavy in the heated air, a pungent aroma that speaks to just how roughly he had treated you and your fingers are quick to sink into the lapels of his leather duster as you inch closer to him.

Sensing your movements, Cooper extends his arm overhead and allows you to burrow in close to his side, your legs hooking within his own while a pained gasp slips free of your lips as the motion causes the ache in your sex to sting anew. The gasp forces a soft coughing fit, your abused throat really forcing its attention as you shiver in place.

Wordlessly, Cooper sinks his hand deep within his side pocket and pulls free his flask, handing it off to you with a pointed look.

"Thanks." You croak out. Taking a deep swig, the warm water may as well have been taken from the most pristine, crystal blue spring as the relief it pours through your gritty throat and aching, heated limbs is like pure heaven.

Thoroughly fucked and satisfied, the comedown of your activities draws a fresh shudder from your spine as you hand Cooper back his flask - his blazing eyes watching your every move with pinpoint precision.

"Need anything else, sweetheart?" His voice is low and raspy, saturated with the same satisfaction as your own and his features are loose as his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you close.

Shaking your head, you blurt out the first thing that springs to mind. "Didn't mean to hit you in the dick."

At that, Cooper chuckles; a genuine laugh that rumbles through his chest as his head tilts back ever so slightly. Like this, in the post-fuck haze, he's at his most muted and content - his expression open and relaxed as he enjoys the feel of you against him.

"Liar." He accuses without fire. "Suited me fine though, darlin', cause it made it easier to smack you down those stairs."

Your little games were an idea of your own making, his enthusiasm taking some time to come around until he was convinced that you were eager and willing despite your actions.

"Great." Tired and slightly nauseous, you can't help but smile at him as the ragged edge of his nose hole flares with his suppressed amusement. "You banged me up good. My lip is fucked."

"Fucked more than just that, sweetie. You almost got away this time."

"Liar." You parrot his earlier words.

"Gotta say though, you're getting much better at swallowing my cock down-"

Interjecting quickly, you roll your eyes at him. "Didn't have much of a choice."

"-getting a bit too good mind. Might have to start making some scratch from those skills. Put you to good use. What do you think?"

The sun beating down on your skin as the uncomfortably sticky mess from between your thighs continues to drip free of your abused cunt, a weariness sets into your bones as you cling to him with desperate fingers - a strong desire to drift off into a short nap clawing at your senses.

"You're too much of a jealous son of a bitch." You sigh out, closing your eyes as you focus on the beat of his heart as it thrums beneath your ears. "You'd kill the first man to look at me funny."

Sensing your fatigue, Cooper matches your exhale with one of his own as he fixes his hat across his forehead.

"Sleep, sweetheart. We'll pick this dumbass conversation up when you're not dripping like an old faucet."

Eyes slipping close, the nasty comparison draws a smirk from you regardless as you wrap your leg around his own with a tighter grip and settle in for a recovery nap.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

just to add more fuel to the fire.. I want to let you know how happy I am that you are working on giving us more of the masterpiece autumn embers is.

i jumped, screamed, hollered, rolled in my bed, jumped up and down in excitement when I saw the slightest mention of autumn embers, MY BODY HAD AN AUTOMATIC REACTION IM SORRY😭 your writing is just so beautiful and it never fails to make me feel giddy.

you’re free to ignore this of course and I apologize in advance for ranting but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you babes. please stay safe and healthy!! <3

Kinkvember 13 - Biting/Marking

Autumn Embers - Alpha Price x Alpha Gaz featuring Ghost and Soap

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Biting, implied permanent marking, blood and bodily fluids, frottage, omegaverse dynamics, dominance and submission

Notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING MORE FUEL ON THIS FIRE. I've missed Autumn Embers so much. Have another pre-Wildfire piece.

Rut with a pack is always a workout. And Kyle? Has more than a little bite to him. John doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh as he shoves his bracered arm between the other man’s teeth and feels an almost concerning amount of pressure.

“There y’ go,” John snarls into the side of his neck as Kyle drools around soft leather. “That’s what you needed, eh? Set your teeth into your alpha? D’you think because Simon goes all sweet for a knot that I’d roll for you?”

The younger alpha bucks beneath him. He smells like sex, like rut, musky and spicy and potent. If he wasn’t under John, if he hadn’t already had a go on top of Simon, where would he be now? Probably mounting some sweet smelling little O, pumping them full of pups. Certainly, the week leading up to his rut had seen him picking too many fights for him to roll with other alphas.

Except, of course, for his pack.

Off to the side, Johnny is panting and whining for his own turn to slam around with Kyle on the living room floor. John swipes half-heartedly at him so he’ll go back to cuddling Simon, a distraction that Kyle twists to take advantage of. He’s clever in ways John keeps failing to remember, so instead of slipping away, he sets his teeth higher on the bracer and heaves John up over his shoulder.

Even with the padded mat set up, the breath whooshes from John’s lungs as he lands on his back. He has no time to recover before Kyle is on him, pupils blown. He slams his arms down on one of John’s biceps and ducks down with a snarl.

“Ow, fuck!”

Kyle growls around his mouthful of thick pectoral muscle and doesn’t let go when John grabs at the back of his neck and yanks. Sharp teeth break skin. The taste must be something nice, because Kyle moans and starts grinding his hips into John’s thigh through his joggers like he’s locked.

John barks a laugh at the feel of a solid knot against the inside of his thigh. He digs his nails into the glands on the side of Kyle’s neck with intent and bucks his own hips as he bends his restrained arm to grab at the man’s hair.

One thrust, two, and Kyle keens as his whole body shudders. His muscles stay engaged for a few seconds, and then he collapses. Even his jaw goes slack, which is Johns cue to roll him, none to gently, onto his back.

He goes, docile, before his rutting brain remembers that there’s another alpha on top of him, but his body is too slow to react in time. He can only keen and wriggle as John crushes him with his own body weight and sets his teeth into curve of Kyle’s shoulder. The first burst of blood on his tongue has him blowing his knot. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to reach between them and free himself from his pants.

He doesn’t let go until Kyle submits, body going pliant as he whimpers, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

John has to work his jaw for a moment before he can speak. “I’ve got ya, good boy, Kyle.” He swipes a wide palm over Kyle’s face, smearing blood and spit up into his hairline.

Johnny makes a more than interested sound and belly crawls toward them, chin tucked down to his shoulder. Price hums and pushes red finger tips between his other sergeant’s lips as Kyle purrs and chews idly at the stretched collar of his shirt.

Later, bandaged and bundled up in Simon’s arms, Kyle rasps. “There’s an omega on base. Smells like woodsmoke ‘n oranges.”

“Was wonderin’ why ye went off like a rocket,” Johnny laughs from Simon’s other side. “Bonnie thing in Intelligence? Smells like an alpha might be courting her, but if they’ve left nae marks by noo, we should snatch her up.”

John lets himself make an interested noise as he runs his fingers through Simon’s hair from Johnny’s other side. Kyle’s not really shown much interest in anyone outside of the 141, crush on Farah notwithstanding. Over the past year, they’ve all settled into their dynamics, a volatile but beloved push-pull that marks an all alpha pack. An omega’s softness, though? Especially under any one of them in rut…

“No poaching,” John grumbles. He presses his lips against the bristly side of Johnny’s head at his disappointed grumble. He chuckles and concedes. “We can introduce ourselves. See if she might be able to handle us.”

[theclaravoyant]

for bucktommy prompt: tommy's sibling/s

AN ~ ooh, I had fun with this one. and by fun i mean have some mild angst ft tommy past and protective buck. unfortunately no actual tommy in this one, but he's very present.

tw for implied (off screen & non graphic) fdv

Read on AO3

~1300wd, Rated T.

title is extremely loosely inspired by some of the press for upcoming eps, so one could consider this spec?, but def no spoilers

baggage

“Can I help you?” Bobby asks, and the visitor – who, like most visitors, is trying not to let on how awed she is by the enormous engines that stretch out before her – adjusts her grip on her handbag and smiles.

“Thank you, yes. I'm looking for my brother. I understand he used to work here – Thomas Kinard?”

“Tommy? Not for a long time, I'm sorry,” Bobby replies.

The woman's chest falls in obvious disappointment, but she battles through it. “Is there anyone here who could get a message to him? It's really important, but... he's been ignoring my calls.”

Something tells him, she means more than for just a day or two. Bobby presses his lips together in contemplation. He doesn't know Tommy all that well, but he does know estrangement. He knows Buck – and exactly how the man's hackles of protectiveness go up at any mention of Tommy's rather enigmatic family. But he knows remorse, too. And grief, and complicated love. Buck does too. So he prays for the Good Lord to bless the hotshot with some sense, and hollers for him.

It's not long before Buck clamours down the stairs, already protesting - “I swear, I didn't say it!” - but the words die on his lips. He'd recognise that jawline anywhere. Plus, Tommy's been tense lately; the missed calls, the weirdness about his mail... Pieces fall together, and his shoulders stiffen as the visitor holds out a hand for him to shake.

“Charlotte Kinard,” she offers. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”

-

Buck has heard of Charlotte once or twice – in the sense that, he's heard she exists, and that she and Tommy have hardly spoken since he moved out west a decade ago. He'd always kind of imagined her as a female Tommy; as if she'd walk in here in a tank top smeared with engine grease, going by 'Charlie', all deadpan humour and a cocky smile to be drawn out by the people that get her. The preppy soccer mum look she's got going on instead is something of a surprise, but weirdly, she still is kind of a female Tommy. They've got the same chin, the upright carriage, even the same colour hair, although hers has been straightened to within an inch of its life. Irony. Buck reminds himself they also share the same father, and so some of the same baggage, so he fights a scowl and tries to remind himself to be nice.

“So,” she asks once they're settled upstairs. “How do you know my brother? Did you work together?”

“...Something like that.”

Charlotte gives him a strange, scrutinising look – one that Buck is still getting used to – and he braces himself, unsure of where this conversation is going to go. In his head he rehearses so many other anwers. Biblically, he wishes he'd said, just to spite her,as springs to mind a particularly steamy moment from the morning's shower. Intimately. He knows how the man likes his eggs. That he has a soft spot for rom coms. That his ankles are more ticklish than his feet – and that exploiting that fact is liable to get one kicked with the strength of a horse. Better than you do, is what it comes down to.

“It's okay,” she promises uncertainly. “I know, about him.”

A bitter laugh escapes his attempt. “You don't know him.”

“He's my brother.”

“He's my boyfriend.”

For a moment, they reach an impasse. Buck readies himself for more pushback, but all he gets is another very Tommy moment where he watches an argument flicker over her face and she clenches her jaw ever so slightly and refuses to voice it.

“Regardless,” she says, even though it's very much the entire reason they're the ones having this conversation, “I wondered if you might pass on some news for me.”

Don't be an ass, Evan, Tommy's voice reminds him. He holds those gentle, quiet eyes in his mind. This is for Tommy, not for him.

“Sure.”

Charlotte puts a navy blue, modestly glossed flier down on the table and slides it across to him. The top line reads:

In Loving Memory of Colonel Thomas James Kinard

Buck feels his heart clench. He can still hear the way Tommy says his father's name, full of contempt. He's only ever heard it insincerely trotted out in a put-on voice or under a mock salute, Colonel Thomas James Kinard. For all the pain the man has caused Tommy, Buck has tried a time or two to prod something darker, more honest out of him. Catharsis and all that, right? He almost smiles down at the flier. Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

But he notices Charlotte is crying.

Not crying-crying. Kinard crying. The kind of crying where it's mostly an internal waterfall. Where you don't offer a tissue; the highest form of comfort is that you pretend you haven't noticed. Buck really wasn't built for stoicism, but he's getting the hang of speaking its language. He clears his throat of all the snarky shit, and his shoulders drop a little. It's hard to stay defensive, in the face of Kinard-crying.

“Yeah,” he manages. “I'll pass it on.”

“We're having a service next week.”

“I … don't think he'll come.”

“We'll pay to fly him out,” Charlotte promises. “He just has to answer the phone.”

“That's not the issue.”

You remember, right? Buck wants to prod her. You remember what that man did to you guys?

She seems, if anything, surprised that he knows. Not that he knows every deep dark moment of it all, but he's been let in on some things, and a bit of her own defensiveness seems to fall away as if assured that maybe he does know her brother after all. Still, she squirms a little, under the naked unexpected sympathy.

“Our father had his flaws,” Charlotte objects. “But he was only doing what he thought was right. Our father loved us.”

Buck shakes his head. “That's not love, Charlotte.”

His heart breaks for her a little, not unlike it did for Maddie remembering all the times she'd brushed off Doug's red flags; in denial, at least at first, of how he was eating her up inside and out. There's an echo in it too, of his own relationship with his parents. They've reached a sort of a truce these days, with time and communication and them trying to be in Jee's life and all, but he still remembers it all too well: that raw, scalding feeling like nothing he ever did was good enough. He's spent many a night contemplating how it must have gone for Tommy.

I'm terrible at football. Love me anyway.

I cried when Artax died. Love me anyway.

Dad, I'm gay. Love me anyway.

Love me anyway.

Love me anyway.

“Tell him anyway?” Charlotte insists. She takes something from her bag – a little blue butterfly keychain? - and leaves it on top of the memorial flier. “Tell him... Lottie says please.”

Then, brooking no further argument, nor pity, she gathers herself up, shakes her hair out smooth again over her shoulders, and heads downstairs. Questions swirl through Buck's brain; about the butterfly, and Lottie, and how she'd said it like Tommy will know what it means. He wonders, not for the first time, about Tommy's other lives and how much he has still to learn about the man.

Behind him, Eddie knocks on the bannister to break his concentration.

“Everything okay?”

Buck looks at the memorial flier; into the dark eyes and the trademark Kinard jawline of the man who had raised Tommy – who had scarred Tommy – and he wonders what he's just agreed to put his boyfriend through. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he says. “I've just got to make a call.”

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (7)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: It's the motherfucking finale! 🤘

AO3 Link

Chapter 7: (Re)prise

It was just like any other night. The moon hung low, and clusters of stars littered the sky—some bright and pulsating, others muted with a faint glow. You leaned your back against the front door of the shop, taking in the damp, cool air. It smelled of earth and dew. A light mist pervaded the horizon as you gave yourself a few more minutes to admire the quiet dark before heading inside.

It did not take long for him to show up. Like a creature of habit, he returned to this special place seeking shelter, comfort, a warm drink, and good company.

“Congratulations, Leon!” It tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He froze, his feet rooted to the ground as he did a double take. “Did you just—”

“I, um… it was uh…” you struggled to find the right words for an excuse, but somehow your brain refused to function at that moment.

“Another hunch?” he suggested, winking at you.

You laughed nervously, “I-I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

Wandering over to you, he stated modestly, “Anyway, I’ve only passed the screening test. There’s still the basic training that all new S.T.A.R.S. recruits have to go through.”

Before he could continue, you reached out, throwing your arms around him as you hugged him tightly. He gasped in surprise at first, then chuckled as he returned the embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Leon. You’ve come so far,” you pointed out. “I’m sure your parents must be proud too.”

His body relaxed into yours and you could feel his smile against the crook of your neck. “They don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Actually, no one knows about it, except you.”

Meeting your gaze, he added, “When I got the news, all I could think about was how I wanted you to be the first person to share it with.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. Brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, his touch lingered on your skin before he let you go. “I’ll make us drinks to celebrate.”

“That’s my job,” you protested, but his sheer persistence won you over and you gave in. However, one thing was non-negotiable—if he wanted to work at your shop, he had to wear an apron too.

And so, the tables were turned as you sat in the customer’s seat, experiencing what it was like for once to be served.

“You look great,” you hollered through your cupped hands from the opposite side of the counter before giving him a thumbs up. “Very professional.”

He flashed you a middle finger before rummaging through the ingredients that were stacked on the shelves. Despite that, you did not have a clue what to expect as he was deliberately being secretive about it.

Finally, Leon emerged with two drinks of the same kind, meticulously decorated like something you had seen out of a fancy magazine. Even from afar, you could recognize that heavenly smell anywhere.

No way he could’ve found out, could he? you wondered.

“Ma’am.” Setting the drink before you, he bowed melodramatically as you rolled your eyes, and laughed in response.

You savored it slowly, allowing the taste to envelope your mouth as you enjoyed it to the very last drop. Leon looked at you expectantly while he sipped at his portion.

“My favorite…” you whispered in awe. “How did you know?”

The smile on his face grew. “I’m a good listener.”

You recalled all the long conversations you had late into the night, the way he wanted to learn more about you, and his interest in even the most mundane things in your life. He had gathered everything and guessed your favorite drink.

“By the way, I believe this is long overdue.” 

Taking you into his arms, he placed his lips over yours without hesitation, kissing you tenderly for the first time. His mouth moved in sync with your own, spelling out his intention of prolonging the kiss, as soft sighs and moans slipped between breaths. You felt his body press up heatedly against yours. His fingers ran through your hair before coming to rest at the back of your head, tilting it at angle so that he could deepen the kiss. Your grip on his collar tightened as he licked across the seam of your lips, gently coaxing them apart. His tongue caressed yours endlessly and you lost yourself in his kisses, his touch, like a bottomless pit of the ocean. It was exhilarating.

When you came up for air, time had stopped. Holding his face between your hands, you saw him for who he truly was—Leon, the brave, caring, and intelligent man you knew, radiant in all his glory. You would never tire of this moment, and you could always rewind back to it, reliving the same scene again and again if you wished to.

But you did not.

Maybe it was time to let go of the uncanny ability you had. Maybe it was time to appreciate each moment as it was. Fleeting, beautiful, and one of a kind.

As the distant strains of piano notes played in the background, things slowly came back to life. You read his swollen lips as they shifted, his vibrant blue eyes glittering under the ceiling lights.

“What’s on my mind right now?” Leon challenged playfully, stroking the side of your cheek with affection.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, though there was something melancholic about drawing this chapter of your life to a close.

“I want you,” he murmured, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them delicately. “As my girlfriend.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you teased, unable to contain your smile any longer. “Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Mmm, I could get used to that.” He nuzzled your nose fondly. “Say it again.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

Thank you for reading! 

In case you’re wondering what uncanny ability Reader had, she was a time traveler, which is a part of what is revealed with the barista in Coffee Talk. One example of this was how Reader knew Leon had passed the screening test before he even told her. 

I purposely kept it vague whether she had time traveled or relied on her natural skills to talk with people, as I believe she was also a very empathetic and perceptive person. It was more a little of boost she used here and there, seeing as she very much wanted to be a source of comfort for others when they needed it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[fierymiasma]

𐂴 Firewhiskey and Apple Tarts 𐂴 // Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Sebastian is tasked to take a drunk hero of Hogwarts back to her dorm after a wild party in the Slytherin Common Room.

Easier said than done.

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Pining, Drunk Shenanigans, Sebastian being a gentleman, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drunk Piggy Back rides

Word Count: 3.4k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

The music from the self-playing ghost instruments was enchanted so loud Sebastian could barely hear his own thoughts.  The Slytherin common room floor was sticking to his shoes from all the spilled butterbeer and firewhiskey.  Sebastian wasn't a stranger to Slytherin House parties.  Staring across the common room, he couldn't take his eyes off of the hero of Hogwarts.  The moonlight reflecting off the Black Lake illuminated her, shining an ethereal spotlight on the only person who mattered at the party.  Jumping, laughing, and swiveling her hips in a poor imitation of a dance, she looked so carefree.  It was rare to see such an expression on the Hufflepuff, especially after the horrible events of their 5th year. 

Sebastian's expression softened.  It was a shame that the party was drawing to its end.  She brought a natural light to the dreary common room.  He wished he had a couple more hours to memorize every tiny detail of her form.  What he wouldn't give to break through the crowd and sweep her off her feet.  Show her how a real Slytherin parties.

"Sebastian!  Sebastian!"  Natty hollered as loudly as possible over the blaring music.  She waved Sebastian down, and Sebastian grinned back.  Now there was a friend who would always have his back in a fight.  "Are you able to escort our friend back home?"  Natty asked, knowing full well that Sebastian knew who she was referring to. "I would do it myself but the Gryffindor tower is the complete opposite end of the castle and-"

"And no one can sneak around at night like Sebastian Sallow."  Sebastian finished for her.  "Of course, I'll make sure she gets tucked into bed."

Natty hovered, a bit nervous.  "She's ah, how you say, not very sober right now."  She giggled before schooling her expression to a more serious one.  "Can I trust you to make sure she can make it back home safe?"

There was a pregnant pause.  The quickly developing relationship between Sebastian and his newly acquired friend had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the school.   It was obvious to anyone with eyes (or without good eyes Ominis would say) how much that Slytherin boy pined for her. 

In light of all this, Sebastian felt somewhat humbled that Natty trusted him enough to entrust him with the task of walking his very inebriated crush home without any foul play.  Though Sebastian might not have been as close with Natty as he was with Ominis, he still considered her a good friend.  And, the only good Gryffindor worth knowing. 

"You needn't worry.  She'll be unharmed, except for a pretty wicked hangover.  Trust me.  You Gryffindors aren't the only ones with chivalry around these parts." 

Natty laughed.  "Good!  Thank you for doing this for me.  I truly appreciate it."  Natty turned around and waved back to the crowd.  "I found Sebastian!  He's right here!"

Natty turned to Sebastian, hiccupping a bit before giggling madly. "Well, all I can say is, nkwagaliza emikisa, good luck!  She is quite the handful."

Before Sebastian could ask Natty what exactly she meant by that, a very loud presence announced herself. 

"Sebastian!"  The Hufflepuff in question shouted, throwing her hands in the air.  She pushed quite roughly through the crowd, heading straight for the Slytherin in question.  "Sebastian!  Good evening!"

"It is a good evening now that you're here."  Sebastian agreed, wondering exactly how drunk she was.  "I believe it is my duty to escort a certain someone to their bed."

She deflated like a Shrivelfig. "Oh…okay, see you later then."

It turns out she was very inebriated.  "It's you.  You're the someone I'm escorting to bed."

"Oh!"  She smiled using all her teeth, then quickly hide them behind her hands, giggling madly.  "Why didn't you just say so, silly?  This will be great!"  She shouted over the music.  "It'll just be like our very first night together!"

Several heads turned to look at the pair of them.  Sebastian could hear voices whispering behind them.  The back of his neck turned red.  "Yes, just like our first night where we broke into the restricted section to study and did nothing else slightly interesting or nefarious."  The crowd behind them look disappointed.  "We need to be just as quiet and sneaky as we were back then.  Are you up for the challenge?"

"Yes!"  she shouted and jumped on the balls of her feet, only to catch herself on a side table, off kilter with the room spinning.

"Shhhh."  Sebastian reminded gently putting a finger to his lips.  "Quietly."  he whispered.

"ohhh ok….quietly."  she whispered back.

Sebastian gently guided her to the entranceway to the Slytherin common room.  Waving goodbye to the party patrons, he helped her clumsily climb past the threshold.  Sebastian had escorted the Hufflepuff back to her dorms many times, curfew or otherwise, despite her insistence that it was really not needed.  He waved his wand around himself as he crouched, casting the disillusionment charm.

She attempted to repeat the movement.  She wildly waved her wand before crudely tapping the tip to her forehead.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, attempting to do the charm multiple times, to no success.

Sebastian sighed.  Well, this was going to turn out to be a lot harder than it usually was.  But, he was a man of his word, and he was looking for a new type of challenge.

"Alright, it's okay just follow my lead."  He crept to the corner of the corridor, trying to peak out to watch for any prefects prowling the hallways.

Before giving the all clear, something brushed up against his hand clumsy.  He jumped in alarm, disillusionment charm disappearing quickly.  He looked down.   Oh, she was holding his hand.

"My hands are cold and lonely."  She pouted.  "Can I hold yours?"

Sebastian couldn't hold back the smirk if he could try.  Oh, this was great blackmail fuel when his Hufflepuff returned to her very sober self.  "Of course, whatever you need."

In a stroke of luck, they managed to avoid the snitching prefects for a while.  Her warm hand never left his as they snuck around the dark shadows of the castle.  It was going rather well for a bit before the pair hit yet another roadblock.  Her hand was getting heavier in his, almost dragging him down with dead weight. 

"Is everything alright?"  Sebastian asked, finally taking a look back at the other girl.

She sighed.  Her hair was a mess, plastered over her face like a heavy curtain.  She seemed unbothered to fix it.  Her head bobbed down, as if the weight of holding it up was too much for her.  "Nooooo, it's not alright.  My feet are tired and this castle is wayyy to big."

Sebastian chuckled.  He let go of her hand, much to her displeasure.  Bending down, he gestured for her to climb onto his back.  It was going to be far easier to carry her.

"Alright.  Upsie Daisy."  Sebastian said, lifting her into a piggy back ride.  Her soft chest was pressed firmly against his broad back.  Sebastian flushed, glad she wasn't able to see his facial expression.  His arms wrapped under her strong thighs.  Her kicking feet dangled against his sides.

She laid her heavy head on his shoulder.  Sebastian could feel her hot breath tickle the back on his neck.  Now, much closer to her, he could smell the spicy firewhiskey on her breath mingling with her usual honeysuckle perfume.  The walls of Hogwarts spun a little.  Sebastian could get drunk on that intoxicating scent alone.

His throat felt dry.  This might have been a mistake.

"Thanks for the piggy back ride.  You're a much better ride than Boffle Loft."

Sebastian frowned.  He didn't know any Hogwarts boys with such ridiculous names.

"Who?"

"My broom."  She mumbled sleepily into his hot skin.  He could feel her lips lightly brush against his skin.

He shivered.  This was definitely a mistake.  He proceeded to walk.  Part of him wanted to get her to her dorm as soon as possible, not knowing how much of this his poor heart could handle.

Another part of him never wanted this night to end. 

Situated very comfortably on his back, the Hufflepuff was subdued for a while before her boredom got the better of her.  Her face was as close as it has ever been to Sebastian's hair.   She had always wanted to touch it ever since they first met.  How she yearned to run her fingers through those soft curls.  How she wanted to tug at those roots seeing what fun noises she could pull from him.  Listening to her most baser thoughts, she boldly patted Sebastian's hair.  Wow, it was a lot softer than she anticipated.  Sebastian didn't seem to mind.  She continued petting his hair, marveling at it.

Sebastian's neck burned hotly.  His steps faltered.  He hitched her higher up on his back for the umpteenth time.  Sebastian's sweaty hands shifted to get a more stable grip on her thighs.

"Everything alright back there?"  He tried to ask in his most, 'I'm not affected by this', voice he could muster.

She hummed happily, now tangling her hands through his curls.  "My little Puffskein."

Sebastian halted in his tracks.  "Puffskein?"

He could feel her sigh, as if disappointed Sebastian wasn't thinking on her level.  "You know, your hair?  It's so fluffy and cute and curly.  Like a Puffskein.  I always wanted to play with your hair.  I bet it feels exactly like my new Puffskein, all fluffy and sweet."

Oh this was truly too good.  She would be mortified when she woke up in the morning. 

Sebastian continued his journey, trying not to drop her every time her wandering hands tugged on his hair just right.  He stopped walking occasionally to position her more securely since she seemed to take on the bone structure of a kneazle.

"Well, I believe this is your stop."  Sebastian stated, silently mourning as he put the drunk girl down.

She frowned, looking up at the wooden barrel that hide the Hufflepuff common room entranceway.  "I don't want to go in."

Sebastian blinked.  "Don't you want to sleep?"

"Yes, I'm exhausted."

Sebastian patiently explained to her as if she were a five year old.  "This is your dorm.  This is where your bed is."

She pouted, trying and fumbling to cross her arms before determining that motor skill far too difficult.  "I don't like sleeping here."

Sebastian was about to pull his hair out.  Why could she had not said that before all of this. "Why?"

She looked at her shoes.  "There are three girls to a dorm.  And Lenora, Adelaide and the others are nice but I just can't sleep when they're around.  I know it's so silly and so stupid.  When they're in the same room with me, my head's just a buzz.  There's just so much going on.  Constantly wondering what they need, if I'm doing anything to upset them, if they like me, or if they just downright just don't tolerate me."  She shook her head.  "Plus what if the nightmares come back, and I start screaming again?  I don't want them to see that.  I can't have them see that-"  She was starting to breathe a little too shallow and fast for Sebastian's liking.  "Oh Merlin, what if they already know?  What if they heard one of my nightmares and think I'm a freak and just haven't said anything about it.  Hufflepuffs are so nice and polite they probably just haven't bothered to mention it-"

"Stop."  Sebastian interrupted, rubbing the Hufflepuff's back, trying to soothe her.  "Enough of that nonsense.  Breathe."  She took a shaky breath.  "Be a good girl for me and breathe."  She exhaled then took a much deeper breath this time trying to steady herself.  "Good, that's it.  There is nothing to be ashamed of."  No longer annoyed, he straightened her hair, tucking the tangled strands behind her ears so she could finally see him.  "Where do you usually sleep?"

"The room of requirement."  She mumbled, not looking at Sebastian. "Right next to my plants, and my potions, and my creatures.  That's where it's safe."

Something in Sebastian's heart gave a little.  He wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly, but he didn't dwell on it.  "Well, let's get you there alright?"  He searched for her hands, lacing their fingers together.  "C'mon, follow me." 

Somehow, despite the much greater distance, the journey from the Hufflepuff dorm to the 8th floor of the Astronomy tower was much quicker.  Mostly due to the Hufflepuff's subdued behavior.

Opening the Room of Requirements door, he was just glad to see that Deek had already gone to bed.  He didn't want anyone but her to see how badly he was falling for her.

There was a dragon's hoard worth of pillows piled up on her four poster bed.  Merlin's beard, it nearly touched the top of the canopy.  Clumsily, she collapsed on the bed, attempting to undo the intricate laces of her high-heeled boots.  Without thinking, Sebastian knelt down on one knee in front of her.  He gently reaching for her shoe to untie it, just as he had so many times for Anne.  Placing her boot on his thigh, his rough hands started undoing the laces.

For the first time the whole night, her body stood at an absolute standstill.  She was quiet, patiently waiting for him to help her get to bed. 

Sebastian's hands were firm and so sure as he helped take off her tight uncomfortable shoes.  She didn't know why but she quite liked the sight of Sebastian on his knees in front of her.  Once her shoes were neatly put together at the bottom of her bed, Sebastian stood back up.  She quietly mourned the loss of his closeness.

He summoned the blanket that had been rudely thrown on the floor.  He covered her gently with it, making sure she was sufficiently comfortable.  Satisfied at a job well done, he turned, looking to find some random furniture of the Room of Requirement to pass out on.

A small hand grabbed the back of his jacket.

"You're not going to join me?" she asked.  Her voice soft and innocent.

Oh Merlin, the founders were really testing him tonight.  His vow to Natty rang in the back of his mind.  Despite every fiber of his being screaming yes, he turned around, gently removing her hippogriff-like talons on him.  "No, I'm afraid not.  There's a very nice couch that has Sebastian Sallow written all over it."

She frowned before mumbling to herself.  "I thought I got rid of that one."  She threw herself back onto her pillows, incredibly distraught.

Pulling up the covers so they met her chin, he took one last look at her.  Sebastian's eyes soften, as he moved to brush the hair away from her eyes.

"You're not going to kiss me goodnight?"  She asked sweetly.

This had to be punishment for all of Sebastian's wicked deeds.  He swallowed thickly.  Her usual well-groomed braided hair was a completely mess sticking to all the pillows.  Her make up had already left probably permanent stains on her pillows.  She looked like she took a wrestling match with a giant and somehow won.

She was gorgeous. 

"No, I'm afraid I'm pushing it enough as it is."

She looked completely devastated at the rejection.  "Is it 'cause you don't like me?"

Well, Sebastian couldn't have the love of his life thinking something as absurd as that.  Bending at the waist, Sebastian leaned over to give a light and very quick peck on her forehead.  Just like his mother used to do when Sebastian was little.

She erupted into giggles as she retreated under the confines of her blankets.  The heavy quilt did nothing to muffle her maniacal laughter.  As if she were a niffler who stole a noble's best earrings.

Fuck.  That one was probably too far.

Sebastian climbed onto a comfortable couch that the Room of Requirements managed to summon for him.  He curled around a pillow that smelled of her perfume, hugging it close to his chest.  In the furthest depths of his mind, he wondered if the hero of Hogwarts liked it when someone took care of her.  Goodness knows, the Hufflepuff was always doing favors and moving the very heavens for strangers.   Someone ought to be looking out for her as well.  As he drifted off to sleep, his tired and slightly tipsy mind, clung on to one last thought.

Sebastian Sallow wouldn't mind taking care of her for the rest of his life.

[Keep Reading Here]

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXIII

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Unlike the oracles of Day, the witches in Autumn have been known to prompt visions of the future using herbs easily found within the forest… 

Elain felt her heart thudding against her chest, almost painfully. She tracked the following lines with her fingers. The aged ink was rough on her skin. She had to hold back a grin, growing increasingly more pleased with the information she had found. 

Jewelweed. 

Primrose. 

Oak leaves. 

Elain whispered the name of each plant, committing them to memory. 

Her first instinct was to tell Lucien, to have him know as soon as she did that she had finally stumbled across information that seemed useful. 

They had been searching the library with Cora’s help, carefully going through each book case, reading the titles on every shelf. Elain could hardly remember how many chapters she had read, and how many pages she had flipped through. Words had begun to melt together, and she much preferred to spend her spare time learning a little bit more about her mate. 

Lucien was with his mother, though, and in the silence of their shared chambers, Elain remembered his warning. She needed to become more familiar with her abilities. The thought was enough of a push to get her started on one of the larger and more intimidating books she had thrown onto the coffee table. 

Aster.

Sugar maple. 

Hemlock. 

Elain skimmed over each word on the list one final time, deciding she would instead go and find Cora. She had last seen the other woman with the High Lord’s wife, going over floral arrangements for the wedding. Cora seemed to enjoy all of the planning, and while Elain had initially been resistant to giving her opinion on the reception, she could admit there was a part of her that was secretly looking forward to seeing it all come together. 

Elain had to remind herself she was not actually marrying Lucien, not in any real sense. 

She quickly wrote a note on a piece of paper Lucien had already used to jot information he planned to further look into. Placing the side with her looping scrawl onto his pillow, Elain took a moment to straighten her skirts and slip on her shoes. She had told Lucien that she would simply stay in their rooms, but her mind was whirling with thoughts. 

While those in Autumn refer to themselves as witches, they are more commonly referred to as seers across Prythian and in most of the regions on the continent…

Elain tucked the heavy book close to her chest as she walked into the corridor, slamming the carved door shut behind her using her foot. She blew a stray curl away from her eyes, hoping that Cora had returned to her room but had not yet gone to sleep. 

The Forest House was always a little more quiet in the evenings, and Elain liked walking the torchlit halls better when there were less people around. She had not been expecting to see anyone, especially since Cora’s room was not really too far from her own. 

As Elain spotted Callum slowly approaching, she inched ever so slightly closer to the stone wall, hiding the title of the book with her arms. She smiled but chose not to wave, maintaining her friendly expression as he came closer. 

Unlike Felix and Ronan, who tended to holler her name and flash her viper-like grins, Callum was usually content to ignore her presence. He seemed very serious on most occasions, and while Lucien insisted he cared very little for his brothers, her mate always seemed to have good things to say about this one. 

“Lady,” Callum said in greeting, his rough voice ringing in the empty hall. He bowed his head, the short strands of his hair looking like copper coins in the light of the flickering torches. 

Elain was a bit surprised that he had addressed her at all, but she had become very talented when it came to hiding her emotions. She mirrored him, tilting her chin down politely in a practiced gesture. “Good evening.” 

Instead of continuing on his way, Callum slowed down. Elain watched as he awkwardly adjusted his dark jacket, as he cleared his throat. “Looking for Eris?” 

Elain shook her head, not entirely certain why he was interested, but she saw no harm in telling him the truth. “I’m going to see Cora,” the book she was holding felt heavy in her hands and she adjusted her hold on the ancient object. “My lady’s maid,” she added to clarify, thinking that perhaps he would not recognise the name. 

Elain saw as Callum scrunched his nose, familiar. It was almost as though she was looking at Lucien whenever he heard something he did not particularly like. He quickly replaced the expression with a tight lipped smile. “Have a nice night.” 

“You as well,” Elain offered, but Callum had already turned his back on her. She had to fight a frown, trying her absolute best to convince herself that he was simply in a hurry. The torches in the corridor flared brightly, shocking Elain into releasing a little yelp. Before she continued walking towards Cora’s room, she cast a glance around her to ensure no one else had witnessed her small moment of embarrassment.

Elain decided that she would not dwell on the interaction with Lucien’s older brother, balancing the book in one hand as she reached for her skirts. She skipped steps as she went down a flight of stairs, turning a sharp corner and finding herself face to face with Lethe. 

If Elain had given it a moment’s thought, she would have assumed that the Autumn Court noble was blocking her path. She was not entirely fond of the other woman, but she smiled despite it, eager to maintain a level of peace between them. Elain remembered the way that Lethe had danced with Lucien during their first few nights at the Forest House, jealousy a wild beast within her, but she swallowed the feeling away. 

“Good evening, Lethe.” Elain said, keeping the slight annoyance from her tone, choosing to ignore her title. 

The smile she received in return was vicious, embers dancing in her eyes. Elain tried her best to just move past her, but Lethe blocked her path again in a flurry of black skirts. Elain noticed, for the first time, how pale the other woman was. It gave Lethe an eerie appearance, even if Elain could admit that she was lovely. 

“Lady Elain Archeron,” she responded, her brown hair styled in a braid that made it look as though she were wearing a crown. 

“Can I help you?” Elain asked, losing whatever patience she had for the creature in front of her. She remembered her manners, tilting her head to the side as if she were genuinely curious. 

Lethe shrugged, the movement elegant, like a dancer. She looked Elain up and down, her eyes falling to the book. With a small frown, she spoke. “How kind of you to ask, but no.” 

Elain attempted to move past Lethe one final time, but as she was blocked once more, her urge to groan grew significantly. Nose in the air and trying her best to imitate the Lady of Autumn, Elain’s tone was serious. “I’d like to get by,” she said, making it very clear that she was in no mood for courtly games. 

Lethe hummed, “I suppose you can pass.” She shifted out of the way, leaving a very small space for Elain to squeeze through. She looked at the nails of her hand in a gesture obviously meant as a slight. Dark brows raised, Lethe asked a final question, the words a seductive drawl. “Have I been distracting?” 

While Elain could detect the amusement in her tone, she had no idea what Lethe might be referring to. Ignoring the courtier, Elain moved around her, using all of her self control not to shoot her a frustrated glare. She could not help mumbling an annoyed “unfortunately” under her breath as soon as she was sure that Lethe would not be able to hear her. 

Elain quickened her steps, she had had enough interactions for the night and she really only wanted to speak with Cora. She held onto the book in her hands tightly, hoping that neither Callum or Lethe had seen the title or recognised the spine. 

As soon as she found herself in front of the thick door leading into Cora’s room, Elain felt as her shoulders dropped in relief. She had not even noticed that she was tense, but she was glad at the very least that Cora’s presence was always enough to ease her nerves. 

Elain raised her hand, fingers closed into a fist, ready to knock on the aged wood. Before Elain could do so, the door opened suddenly, Eris marching through the arch of stone in a blur of red hair and white shirtsleeves. 

Elain lost her breath as the heir to the Autumn Court crashed into her much smaller frame. She dropped the book as she collided into him, but Eris snapped out his hands, catching her before she could stumble. Her nose was pressed uncomfortably against his chest and she had loose curls of her own hair stuck between her teeth. 

Elain looked up, ready to make her displeasure clear, and to perhaps even bother Eris a little bit, but a wave of foreboding went over her. She felt unwell, like the stone floor had given way beneath her feet. 

Elain heard as Eris said her name, but it was a faraway sound, as though he were speaking underwater. She could still feel the grip he had on her arms, gentle. Golden eyes flashed brightly as Elain gasped, air pulled from her lungs. She was shocked at how easily her body went limp, at the feeling of her muscles losing their ability to keep her upright. 

Elain tried to ask Eris for help, but the world was a blur, and as everything snapped back into focus, she was no longer in the Forest House. 

There was a dagger made of gold in Elain’s hands. She held the weapon carefully, the blade flashing in the light of the setting sun. Elain let her finger drag along the edge. 

Rose petals, dark as blood, fell against a leaf strewn path. Elain took a small step, twigs snapping like fragile bones beneath her bare feet. 

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, and agony ripped through Elain’s chest. The sound echoed in her ears, sharp and loud. 

Over and over, again and again, the wolf howled. 

Elain dropped the dagger, put her hands over her ears, and clenched her eyes shut. 

All she could see was unending darkness. 

Elain woke up slowly, pins and needles traveling up her legs uncomfortably. She shifted, placing her fingers against her temple in an effort to steady herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the room stopped its spinning, everything returning back to normal. 

Elain wanted Lucien, but she instead found herself with Eris. 

He would have carried her, she decided. Eris had placed her carefully on a small bed, the skirts of her dress trailing off of the mattress and onto the carpeted floors. The room came into focus, the flames in the fireplace were stoked to brightness and shadows fell across the walls.  

Elain blinked just as Eris leaned over her. Worry lined his expression, a frown pulling at his lips, but his voice sounded angry as he spoke. “What was that?” 

Elain took a moment to respond, choosing instead to sit up. Eris helped her lean against the headboard, offering her his hand so she could scoot along the covers. She looked around Cora’s room, taking in the familiar and neat surroundings. 

Elain’s eyes fell to the small sketchbook on the nightstand, where a lovely drawing of a hound was on the open page. She breathed in deeply to ground herself and to gather her thoughts, keeping her gaze pointedly away from Eris. Mixed with Cora’s scent of mountain air and spruce trees lingered the smell of apple orchards and campfires, distinctly Autumn. If Elain were less worried about what Eris would have said about her visions, she might have asked him why the pillows smelled like his jacket. 

“Elain, what was that?” He repeated, dragging fingers through his hair. He said it softly, encouraging her to speak freely. 

Elain frowned, finally meeting his eyes. “I had a dizzy spell,” she blushed, hoping Eris would believe her lie. 

“That’s a human ailment.” He replied, waving her comment off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The worry was slowly leaving his features, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. Elain watched his eyes sharpen with a calculating edge, and could practically sense the way he was going over the events leading up to her vision. 

Even worse, Elain could feel as the level of trust carefully built between them began to crack, on the verge of shattering completely. 

Eris watched her, tracking each small movement with a predator’s precision. Elain sighed, knowing Lucien would not like the idea she was contemplating. Her resolve broke entirely as Eris raised an auburn eyebrow. 

“Eris,” she began, licking her lips and remembering who exactly Eris was. He was known for being awful and cruel, Lucien had accused him on multiple occasions of being selfish and manipulative, her entire family hated him with a passion. Elain placed a hand on his arm, overstepping perhaps in a way, but he did not flinch from the pleading look she cast him. “Eris, I need your word.” 

He held her stare, tilting his head. Flames flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “You have it.” 

Elain knew he could very well be lying, that Eris could simply turn around and share what he learned with his father, but she somehow knew that would not be the case. A memory flashed in her mind, one from years before, Cassian mentioning how Beron had tortured his own son, a frown on his usually smiling face. 

“You can’t tell a soul,” she said softly, but she tightened the hold she had on his arm. 

“You have my word, Elain Archeron,” Eris smiled, his promise cutting the tension in the room. Unlike his fleeting amusement, the genuine emotion transformed his sharp features until he became a softer male. The torches flared around them in response. “I do love a good secret.”  

And so Elain told Eris Vanserra, prince of Autumn, one of the Night Court’s most well kept ones. 

[laundrybiscuits]

(young man what do you wanna be tag | Ch1-2 on AO3)

“Hey, did you and Jonathan tell Will to ask me about—” Steve glances around like the world’s worst spy, and leans close even though they’re the only living souls in the trailer. “About gay things?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “No? Wait, Jonathan might’ve.”

Steve pushes both his hands through his hair. “Why would you do that! Shit!”

“Again, I did nothing in this scenario,” says Eddie. “I’m pretty sure this one specific thing is not my fault.”

“He asked me about our relationship,” says Steve. “He wanted gay advice.”

Eddie swallows down his first impulse, which is to demand to know whether Eddie’s advice isn’t good enough for Will all of a sudden. “Okay,” he says instead. “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I quit giving Dustin advice on girls, like, years ago! By the time I was Will’s age, I was pretty busy fucking up the only serious relationship I ever had.”

“Sure, maybe, but you can’t think about age that way. It’s like…” Eddie tilts his head. “For a lot of us, there’s a—a late start, right? It’s like a whole different time scale, because we gotta figure ourselves out first. We don’t get the manual to all this shit, so we either waste our time chasing some kind of picket fence life that we don’t actually want, or we just make it up from scratch.”

“Right, cool, okay,” says Steve. “I didn’t say anything like that. I told him to keep his chin up. I—think I called him slugger.”

Eddie pats him on the shoulder sympathetically, definitely not feeling at all vindicated about the fact that he’s clearly winning at gay mentorship. “Could be worse. What did the littlest Byers say?”

“He’s taller than Jonathan now,” says Steve.

“So not the point, sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, how’d it go?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Steve huffs out a breath and pushes his hand through his hair. “Not good, I don’t think. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with that kid. He just wanted to know how I figured stuff out, and like—why I wouldn’t just go with girls.”

“Yeah, uh, on that note,” says Eddie. “Is this a new development? Like.”

He pauses, trying to figure out the exact right arrangement of words.

“Like…” he says, slowly. “I’m just wondering, you know, why it hasn’t come up before. I mean, you already know about me, everybody knows about me. Is it—”

Did you not want me to think—

Did you not want—

“Pretty new, I guess,” says Steve. He lies back, arms folded behind his head, taking up more than his fair share of Eddie’s bed. Eddie climbs over him and takes his usual place tucked up against the wall, keeping a careful distance.

Steve’s parents are leaving again tomorrow, so this might be the last time for a while. It’s not like they won’t be seeing each other all the time; at this point, they’re so tangled up in each other’s lives that it’s not so unusual for them to hang out every day for weeks without even trying.

But it might be the last time for a while that they lie here like this, in a shadowy space where the line between thoughts and words gets slippery enough to cross. Eddie tries real hard not to think of it as anything special; it’s just his stupid fucking heart running away with him, the way it always does.

“Okay,” says Eddie.

After a while, he says, “Goodnight.” Steve doesn’t answer.

———

“Eddie!” Robin hollers from across the store. “We’re enemies now!”

“Okay!” he yells back. “Why?”

“Why do you think, asshole!”

This is getting unsustainable, so Eddie wanders over to the counter where Robin’s cashing out.

“Is it because I’m giving you a ride home out of the goodness of my heart? Unconventional, but I respect that.”

She chucks a balled-up receipt at his head. “Steve, dumbass.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, ducking out of the way and holding up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I dunno what he told you, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Exactly,” snaps Robin.

“Robin,” he whines, switching tactics. “C’mon, don’t be pissed at me. You know you’re my favorite lesbian in the whole wide world. You’re the cheese in my burger, the fries in my shake. My wretched soul cannot bear the weight of your scorn.”

He can tell she’s still trying to be mad, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, so he drapes himself over the counter and wails, “Milady Robin! Say only that you can forgive my dark and unworthy deeds, whatever they may be, or I shall perish right here in this fine establishment.”

“You really don’t know what you did, huh,” she sighs. “God, you’re the worst.”

Eddie peeks up at her through his hair. “Planning to enlighten me any time soon? Or are we going straight to pistols at dawn?”

“We are going to be driving me home,” says Robin. “And we’re going through Taco Bell on the way. We’re still gonna be enemies, but you can purchase a temporary peace treaty for the low, low price of two chalupas and a large Sprite.”

———

“Hey, Harrington, why’s Robin mad at me?”

“Mad at—? Oh. Uh, I think she misunderstood some stuff.”

Eddie groans. “Is this about the fake dating thing again?”

Steve looks a little pained. “Maybe?”

“Byers needs to go his own way! Call it another—lonely day, or—you know what I mean. Buckley can’t take in every wounded baby bunny that stumbles across her path.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

“Sure, okay. So, do I need to defend my honor by finding Will a boyfriend or something?” Eddie pauses. “I realize that sounds like an insane scheme, but consider this: it’s still better than Operation Happy Ending, so I’m standing by it.”

“Not cool, man,” calls Argyle from the floor. Eddie has a theory that Argyle likes lying down on the floor because he’s tall. It’s not a very well-developed theory.

“No, no, I’m fully on board with the name,” Eddie assures him. “Baller name. You hit it out of the park on that one, dude.”

“Righteous,” says Argyle. “Appreciate the support.”

“The idea still sucks,” says Eddie. “But that is one hundred percent the fault of Jonathan Byers, and you remain the utterly blameless light of my life.”

A sudden thought strikes him, and he sits up, dislodging Steve’s hand in his hair.

“Hang on, Steve—did you ever actually tell Will that we’re not dating?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” Steve frowns. “Uh, probably? Man, I don’t really remember.”

Eddie shoots him a squinty look, and Steve holds his hands up. “Dude, I don’t know! I wasn’t trying to lie to the kid, there was a lot going on. Don’t know why he didn’t go ask Argyle instead.”

“Oh, he totally did, my bro,” says Argyle. “I think he’s, like, doing the rounds. I just told him not to worry about a thing and let the Lady Fate lead the way. I dunno if he was ready to embrace the Lady, though. He didn't really seem to get it.”

“Fucking great.” Steve leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Between the three of us, maybe he’ll get some kind of actual goddamn life lesson or whatever.”

“Fuck you, I am an amazing Gandalf. I mean mentor,” says Eddie. "Wait, shit. Does that mean Byers has been getting most of his actual gay advice from me? Holy shit, we can't let that happen. I'm like—the worst possible future for that kid. Steve, you gotta go back and try again."

He smacks Steve's shoulder. "Go back and tell him some real stuff! And tell him we're not dating, or he'll think he has to settle for the first loser that threatens him with a broken bottle!"

"Wait, is that—you don't actually think that, do you?"

"I mean, I'd like to say nobody will ever threaten him with a broken bottle, but Lady Fate works in mysterious ways. And frankly, given his whole…" Eddie waves a diffident hand. "Penchant for sniffing out trouble like a bloodhound after a T-bone, he's definitely going to wind up on the wrong end of a bar fight at least once or twice."

He pauses. "Don't tell Jon I said that, he'll wig out."

"Okay, but like—you know you're not—a loser, right?"

Steve touches Eddie’s back, a warm brush of fingers, and Eddie shrugs uncomfortably. "Just a figure of speech, Harrington. Don't worry your pretty little head about my ego, I'm doing great."

"Hell yeah you are," says Argyle. "Great as Gandalf."

Eddie is like 90% sure Argyle doesn't actually know who Gandalf is, but he appreciates the gesture.

"Thanks, dude," he says, poking Argyle’s head with his foot affectionately. "You're a great Gandalf too. The most Gandalferous."

"Can everyone stop saying Gandalf please," says Steve, so obviously Eddie has to bellow "Gandalf Gandalf Gandalf" right in his ear until Steve puts him in a headlock.

It's a pretty good afternoon.

[bucktommyscones]

In the Name-Epilogue

Ao3 appears to be down at the moment, so I'll add the link when it's up, but here's the whole epilogue. Thanks for the support! Eventually, there's gonna be more. Almost certainly a honeymoon fic, but I have another idea I want to work on first.

Here we go!

Epilogue: Eddie

Eddie’s sipping a whiskey at the open bar when he spots Buck and Tommy holding court at their table, standing with their arms around each other, so damned happy that Eddie can practically feel it from across the room. He’s been keeping an eye out for trouble all night because you never know. There’s been too much his family has gone through in the last few years and Eddie will get Buck and Tommy through their wedding day if it kills him.

He’s gratified to see that the Buckley parents really have turned a corner, which he wouldn’t have believed had someone told him it would happen a year ago. Tommy had even danced with Margaret Buckley and he only looked a tiny bit uncomfortable so Eddie supposes he’ll count that as a win.

“Gross, right?”

Eddie looks to the side to see that Lucy Donato has sidled up next to him. She orders a beer and turns to him, looking at Buck and Tommy (who have shifted position just slightly, but somehow still have their arms around each other) a little wistfully.

“They’re so in love,” Lucy continues and Eddie snorts.

“Try being around them more,” Eddie says affectionately. “They really are like that all the time. Being married now will probably make it worse.”

Lucy laughs as she takes the beer the bartender just handed her.

“I’ve been around them enough to know in the last two years.”

“Fair enough. Doesn’t take much.”

“So, Diaz,” she says, taking a sip. “Wanna dance?”

He’s about to say ‘sure’ when he spots Maddie motioning to him from the entrance to the reception hall, giving him the hand signal that can only mean one thing.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters.

“What?” Lucy asks and he turns to her.

“Tommy’s dad’s here.”

Lucy’s face clears of confusion and Eddie thinks she must know enough because now she looks pissed. “Seriously? He’d actually show up?”

“Yeah, Maddie and I worked out a way to tell each other without letting on to Buck and Tommy.” Eddie looks towards them to see that they’re now talking with Hen and Sal. They’re facing the entrance hall and he looks at Lucy again.

“Hey, can you just make sure they stay distracted? I’m going to go take care of this.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Of course.”

Then she turns to where they’re standing and hollers, “Hey, Kinard!”

Eddie has the presence of mind to snort a laugh as both Buck and Tommy turn to her.

That works.

He walks calmly over to Maddie before following her out the door and to the entrance of the venue.

“He showed up about ten minutes ago,” Maddie says. “Amanda thought she could warn him off with the Persona Non-Grata, but that didn’t work and she sent another employee to find us.”

“God, what an asshole,” Eddie says. “Tommy says he made it very clear he wasn’t welcome.”

“I know.”

They get to the entrance and Eddie hears the smarmy, too polite, voice that reminds him nothing of the warm way Tommy tends to speak. Even if he’s shooting out one of his deadpan remarks, he never sounds like this, like the person he’s speaking to is so far beneath him, they’re not even work listening to.

“...my son’s wedding, and…”

“You’re not welcome here,” Eddie snaps, stepping in front of Amanda, who had glided back when she saw Eddie and Maddie.

George Kinard looks at him disdainfully. “And you are?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, not bothering to introduce himself. “I was there when you accosted Tommy at his former workplace.”

George scoffs. “Accosted, please. I simply went there to have a discussion with him.”

“In which you made it perfectly clear how you feel about him and his husband,” Eddie snaps. “You were told not to come and I’m here to enforce their wishes. Leave. Now.”

“And who do you think you are to talk to me like th-”

“Mr. Kinard,” a familiar voice says from behind Eddie and he turns to see Bobby and Athena rushing up, Athena holding up her badge. “I’m Sargent Athena Grant of the LAFD. You were warned not to come. If you don’t leave now, I will arrest you for trespassing.”

He sneers at her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh please, try me,” Athena says, planting her hands on her hips, looking authoritative and a little scary in her dark blue gown.

“Tommy and Evan don’t want you here. Go. Now.”

He looks at them all. “Well,” he says with another scoff. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Do you, though?” Eddie wonders and Maddie stifles a laugh next to him.

George gives them all one last disdainful look before spinning on his heel and stalking off to the town car waiting some distance away.

“Thanks, Athena,” Eddie says. “How did you know?”

“I spotted your little exchange in the doorway,” Athena says.

“When you didn’t come back right away, I figured there was trouble.”

“Come on.” Bobby wraps an arm around her. “Let’s head back inside. I think they’re going to cut the cake soon.”

They all troop back inside and Eddie knows he’s going to have to tell Buck and Tommy about this but when he spots them at a back table, Buck sitting on Tommy’s lap, an arm around his neck and kissing him sweetly, Eddie sighs.

He’ll tell them in a couple of days. He wants them to enjoy tonight.

For now, he’ll go find Lucy for that dance.

Tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin

[ryin-silverfish]

JTTW Discord Summer Contest Entry: South Seas Sojourn

AO3 Mirror

-In collaboration with the amazing @ejaysstuff, who did the art!

-I'd say "This is mostly me nerding out about folklore", except that sums up all my recent one-shots.

-An LMK fanfic about Wukong going on a vacation, set between S3 and S4. 

---

"I'm going on a vacation!"

Before anyone in the noodle shop could let out a groan or a cry of "Again?!", Sun Wukong immediately added, "And you are coming too, MK. I ain't leaving my disciple out of the fun, not after, well, everything."

"But it's okay to leave me out of the fun?" Mei sulked, as she tried to make the tea inside her cup rise up, yet only created a little ripple. 

"Hey, I'm not the one who signed you up for that internship at your uncle's place." Sun Wukong said. "But maybe we can drop by once we are done! Take a break from the heat in the cool air of the North Sea."

"Yeah, the nice, cool, sub-zero-degree air of the arctic zone..." Mei sighed. "Don't wanna beat on that dead horse, but I'm so, so sick of icy stuff."

"Aw, bummers. Guess you won't be a fan of my new tea recipe, then." Sandy poked his head out from inside the kitchen. MK could hear ice cubes clinking inside a glass, and so did Mei, since she perked up within seconds and looked like she was on the verge of backflipping over the counter.

"Sandy, Sandy my man, I'll never not be a fan of your tea recipe!" 

"Uh, where are we even going?" MK asked, in between the sound of icy lemon tea being slurped through a twisty straw. "Don't get me wrong, I'm super duper up to it! But Mr. Tang had been complaining non-stop on MeChat about Pigsy's decision to drag him to Chang'e's virtual concert during summer break, where every major tourist spot is packed with kids. I hope we are going somewhere...quieter, that's all."

"Oh, no worries. It won't be deserted, but it ain't gonna be nearly as crowded." Sun Wukong paused, striking a pose. "We are going to the South Seas, bud!"

"...Where?" MK and Mei asked in unison, drowning out Sandy's faint "Wait, like, Guanyin's place?".

"Out south. In the oceans. Duh." 

"That explains nothi——"

"And no, my big blue friend, I won't be knocking on her doors at Potaloka unless someone needs saving! She's gonna be real busy in the next few weeks anyways." Sun Wukong continued. "For you less geographically gifted kids: it's where Lion City and Betel City are. Ring any bells?"

Mei made an "Oooo" noise. "You mean the place with the mermaid lion? Man, I was so disappointed when I found out it wasn't a real critter working for the South Sea Dragons." 

"I still have no idea what you are talking about!" 

"Ah well, MK, you'll be finding out soon enough." Sun Wukong said. "So go give your Dadsy a holler, and start packing up! We'll be leaving next week or the week after that, depending on when Nezha gets off work." A pause. "Yeah, he's coming too."

...

"We aren't really going on a vacation, are we?" MK asked, as he dragged his luggage up the creaky wooden walkway near the Megapolis harbor beach. 

Dangit, who knew that mosquito repellent and sunscreen could weigh so much? (Tang and Pigsy were very adamant about the importance of taking enough of these, once they heard the news over MeChat.)

"What makes you think that?" Sun Wukong replied, swishing his tail at the daring seagulls who kept trying to peck it. 

"Well, last time you said you were going on a vacation, you weren't really telling the truth." MK let out a nervous chuckle. "And Nezha's coming too. I don't know him all that well, but he doesn't sound like the kind of guy who'll, uh, join in on the fun just because?"

"Yeah. Sorry again, MK," he sighed. "But you are half-right. It's not a complete vacation, and more of a vacation-slash-summer school, slash-free exposure therapy..."

"What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" Sun Wukong exclaimed cheerfully. "Basically, you are gonna learn how to be a god, MK."

"I——WHAT?!"

"Relax, bud! It's not as serious as you think." A pause. "How do I put it...hmm, it's like being a hero, but more down-to-earth. Where, instead of people asking you to save them from big bad demons, they are asking you to solve their personal problems."

"Like?"

"Win lottery tickets. And discipline their kids for them."

"Speak for yourself."  

A familiar voice echoed through the evening air. The next second, in a blaze of pink fire, the Third Lotus Prince was standing tall on his wheels, his sash flowing in the wind. 

"Oooh, what did I just hear? Good ol' Brother Nezha, Electro-Techno Third Prince, The Other God You Go To For Lottery Tickets, acting all uppity and serious!" Sun Wukong stuck his tongue out at the new arrival. "Nice entrance, by the way. Very flashy." 

"You know very well I don't answer every desperate addict who doesn't know when to quit, nor do I play games of chance for fun! I play them to win!" Nezha retorted. "Also, thanks for the compliment, Great Sage."

"You are welcome, Laodi."

"Are we really going on a vacation to...help people gamble?" MK nervously raised a hand. "Isn't that, like, against the law?"

"Goodness, what have you been telling your disciple before my arrival? No, what have you left out?" Nezha groaned. "Well, since your mentor clearly hasn't explained our goals properly, I suppose I'll have to substitute for him. Again."

"Hey! Professor Sun is getting to it, Teaching Assistant Nezha——"

"In the next week, we shall be visiting and staying in multiple cities of the South Seas. Now that my true body isn't guarding the Samadhi Fire, I can finally start answering the more tricky prayers," Nezha sighed, "Which will only continue to pile up, since the Seventh Month is imminent."

"Seventh Month?" MK asked, reaching into his pocket with one hand. "But it's August the third already! Lemme check the calendar again..."

"Lunar Seventh Month. Also known as the Ghost Month." Nezha shot a look at Sun Wukong, his expression a mix between annoyance and slight concern. "Someone has picked a great time and place to take his student on a trip."

"What could I say? It sure is less depressing than Qingming nowadays. And they won't fine you for burning paper effigies in the South Seas, or so I've heard!"

"I…no matter." Nezha's look softened a bit, but not by much. "Back to what I was saying. Once the gates of the Underworld open, all the spirits will come out, go visit their families, enjoy the offerings as much as they can under the watch of Dashi Ye, Lady Guanyin's ghostly manifestation."

"We'll be assisting him, much like my brother and all the local gods. Keeping order, giving directions, and all that. In between these shifts, I’ll finally get to perform my duties in my actual physical body instead of the youthful manifestations mortals expect to see, and your mentor is free to monkey around with you and his worshippers at his own temples. All clear?"

"So we are gonna be, like, tour guides and security, but for dead people?" MK asked. "That doesn't…sound too bad, actually! Also, you have a brother, Nezha?"

"No, I pop out of a rock, just like your master." Nezha said flatly, then added, "Goodness, I wish. Muzha can be a bit much, but he's a lot more bearable while on the job, so no worries."

"Someone's getting jealous again, I see," Sun Wukong reached over to pat him on the head, and received an annoyed glare. "Oh, and don't let Nezha's sour attitude fool you, MK. We are still on a vacation, it ain't gonna be all work and no play! And the work won't start until several days later, so we'll have plenty of time."

…

This didn't seem like a great start for our vacation, MK thought. 

Okay, it did, for about three minutes, after they got off the somersault cloud. 

The palm trees were swaying in the wind, the two-story buildings with red-tiled roofs were glowing under the tropical sun, and Nezha reluctantly glamoured a lotus-patterned T-shirt and some baggy pants over his armor after rejecting Sun Wukong's more outlandish suggestions ("You should totally change your wheels into flaming flip-flops!"). Not a single dangerous, vacation-ruining, world-destroying threat in sight.

Then a giant rain cloud appeared out of nowhere, driving most of the crowd indoors and leaving the unfortunate ones seeking shelter under the nearest rooftops and bus stations. 

Not that it helped much——MK felt like he was standing behind the waterfall at Flower Fruit Mountain again, as raindrops slammed into the ground with a fury and created splashes of watery mists.

"Okay, Nezha, Did you anger the local dragons again?" Sun Wukong asked, holding the monkey-hair-turned-umbrella over MK's head.

"Nonsense! Not even the East Sea ones hold a grudge for this long, and I've never seen a South Sea dragon other than their king," Nezha said, then added, "and my brother's co-worker. Are you sure you have a temple nearby?"

"Eh, maybe. I saw a bunch of faith beacons up there, all clustered together." Sun Wukong shrugged. "Some of these have to be mine."

"Have to be yours? Oh, that's rich, coming from someone who hasn't visited the South Seas in person since the 19th century——"

"And they still love me, bud. Deal with it."

"Um, what's a faith beacon?" MK wiped the water droplets off his phone screen with one thumb, trying and failing to steer his luggage away from the puddles. "I'm not seeing any on CloudMap."

"Well, you won't, unless you are a patron god of IT workers or some other technology-related stuff!" Sun Wukong said. "How do I put it, hmmm…after people have prayed to you for a while, offered enough incense, you can just sense the places they are doing it at. Usually, it looks like a beam or a glowy aura, but some gods can smell or hear it too."

"Wow, that's so cool! It's like a mystical VR goggle. Is it something you can learn, though?"

"Look, I'm glad that you are doing your job as a mentor, but can we please get some actual directions?" Nezha sighed. "Temples here aren't always their own separate buildings. I've been summoned inside too many HDB flats to count, and you won't know that by looking at the beacons alone."

"We are heading in that direction right now. It'll get clearer once I get closer to the place. So be patient, will ya'?"

"Well, isn't that just the most reassuring answer I've ever heard. 'We'll get there when we get there'." Nezha muttered, as the group took a turn into a narrow side street, ducking below the swaying lanterns and multilingual shop signs. "Just so you know, if the rain doesn't stop and we don't get there in two hours, I'm dragging both of you onto a bus and to my temple instead."

"Why, you three sound like you are lost! Need a tour guide?"

Abruptly, a high-pitched, child-like voice resounded through the torrential rain, coming out of the alleyway to their left. MK turned to look at the speaker—

—and stared straight into the lifeless glowing eyes of a chalk-faced monstrosity, its red tongue hanging out of its mouth.

With a scream, his staff was out, and in a split second, connected with the thing's head and sent it flying into the nearest wall. It slid off the yellowed concrete, landed with a splash, then went completely still. 

A spiderweb crack was spreading across its porcelain mask——Oh goodness, it's a puppet, which was somehow even worse.

"Ah. The answer is 'No', it seems."

He nearly extended the staff and hit the puppet again when it spoke, had Sun Wukong not dashed forth and, in one swift motion, dragged a pale specter out of it by the robe collar.

"Glad to see you again, Xiao Xie!" He grinned in a rather dangerous way, like what Mr. Tang said non-intelligent monkeys really meant when they bore their teeth. "Is there any particular reason why you are jumpscaring my student in broad daylight, or do you just have nothing better to do?"

"Yes, because this one knows it will happen!" The specter, still in Sun Wukong's grip, said in a cheerfully oblivious voice. “The vision caught this one by surprise too. It's not every day that you see the Great Sage's golden staff approaching your face at lethal speed, especially when you have done nothing to offend him. Good thing this one did not come in his contractor's body!"

Behind them, Nezha let out a groan. "Oh joy, it's these two clowns again."

"W-W-What the heck just happened?! And what's THAT?" MK pointed at the specter. Outside of that creepy puppet, it just looked like a lanky, unnaturally pale youth in an oversized mandarin jacket and a tall hat.

Before Nezha could answer, another sullen voice cut him off.

"You knew you'd get smacked in the face if you came, so naturally, you possessed the creepiest vessel you could find and headed straight in this direction." The air suddenly got a lot colder. "I don't need precognition to know you deserve to be smacked at this point."

The water in a nearby puddle rippled. Okay, technically, it never stopped rippling because of the rain, but this one was a lot bigger, as if something was about to crawl out.

MK took a step back. Seconds later, the murky water turned inky black, rising up into the air and coalescing into the form of a short, stern-faced kid, wearing the same clothings as the pale specter, except they were all black-colored.

"Darn right, Lao—" Sun Wukong paused, as he turned and took a closer look at the newcomer. "Xiao Fan? Huh, didn't expect to see this you here. Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm absolutely complaining." The kid replied. "Our main souls have been attending one meeting after another at Fengdu since the Ivory Lady Incident, which is why I'm currently on," He shot a pointed look at his ghostly companion, "babysitting duty. You gonna smack him or not? Cause I won't mind if you do, Great Sage."

"Aww, really, Xiao Fan? You, of all people, should know that everything this one sees will happen, even if he doesn't know how or why. Since trying to avoid a future is the best way to unknowingly make it come true, this one can only try to soften the impacts and minimize the risks."

"By making sure you would, one-hundred-percent, get hit in the face by someone?" Fan snorted. "Way to go, brother."

"By making sure that staff wasn't slamming into this one's soul, or a flesh-and-blood vessel!" Xie replied. "And the mission is a success! Only a single puppet is harmed."

Nezha threw his hands up in the air. "How did you manage to be even more annoying and nonsensical than your main soul?"

"Welcome to my fucking un-life." Fan mumbled.

"Um, hello?" MK waved awkwardly. "Have you guys suddenly started speaking in some sort of secret code mid-conversation, cause I don't understand a single word you just said."

"Gosh! Sorry, bud," Sun Wukong finally let go of Xie's collars (now that MK thought about it, how did you even grab a ghost's collars? Mystic Monkey Magic at play again?) "Get a bit carried away there."

He pointed at the two specters. "Meet the Heibai Wuchang. The ghost cops, or rather, parts of them. Remember your hair clones? Xiao Xie and Xiao Fan here are kinda like that, but with their souls."

"T-The ghost cops?" MK squirmed. The downpour had become a light drizzle, but he still felt chilly, and it wasn't because his T-shirt sleeves and socks were now soaked. "Like…the ones you see when you are about to die?"

"Don't worry, bud! They aren't here to take any of us away. I think." Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes slightly, "and even if they were, I'd like to see them try."

"Nah. Not a chance. This one still values his un-life—"

"Yeah? Then apologizing to my student and stop wandering around in that thing will be a good start!"

"—so yes, he is very sorry for the distress he caused, young one. The 'wandering around in possessed objects' part, though, is perfectly legal, and this one still has to take the puppet back to his temple, so sorry, no can do."

"You have a temple now?" Sun Wukong let out a chuckle of disbelief. "You two?"

"You really haven't been around here in a while, have you, Great Sage?" Nezha said. "Yes, unfortunately. It's a new South Seas trend, and I hope it stays where it is."

"Our main altar here is still inside the City God's temple. But there are more temples dedicated to us alone, across the strait." Fan said. "And I'm obligated to inform you that all deities who visit the South Seas in their true bodies instead of using clones or astral projections must notify the local City God's temple beforehand, or submit the relevant paperwork immediately after arrival."

"Hmm, and if I don't?" Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do?"

"Other than following you around and staring at you judgmentally? Nothing substantial." Fan said, before sighing deeply. "But if you can at least pretend to respect us and not treat Underworld officials like the complete pushovers we are, we'd really appreciate it."

Sun Wukong hollered at that. "Y'know what? I think I'll do just that, since this you are a lot cuter and not a raging jerk!"

"You know my main soul can hear you, right?"

"Exactly." Sun Wukong grinned. Unlike a few minutes ago, it was a lot less tense. "So lead the way, Xiao Fan!"

…

When MK heard the whole…ghost temple thing, he was expecting skeletons, eerie lighting, spooky stuff.

Okay, some of the statues and puppets were still creepy. Same for the possessions. 

Sure, the ghost cops had explained that they had human "contractors" who'd let them possess their bodies willingly, after signing a lengthy form where all the risks and duties are spelled out clearly.

But when he thought of possessions, the only images that came to mind was LBD's host, shaking like she was in the middle of winter again despite sitting inside the safe, cozy confines of Pigsy's Noodles. And Sun Wukong's golden eyes glowing frost blue, devoid of all warmth and emotions.

Well, better get used to it now. Gonna see a lot more ghosts once the…summer school part of the vacation-slash-summer school starts.

MK took a deep breath and began to make his way back through the corridors, a small incense burner in hand. The exterior of the temple was dated and slightly out of place, sitting beneath towering skyscrapers and surrounded by neatly trimmed park lawn.

Past the main hall and the altar room behind it, however, the place could be mistaken for any modern office building. Or the background of a Monkey Cop episode, except the cops were all ghosts and the monkey was filling in the divine equivalent of a customs form.

"There, done." Sun Wukong said, putting the pen down, "Right in the nick of time! For real, though, couldn't you ghosts just burn the paperwork together with the rest of the effigies?"

"And get them stuck beneath a mountain of sports cars, or whatever insane vehicles people decide to send to their ancestors nowadays? No thanks." 

As he handed the incense burner over to Sun Wukong, who crumpled the form into a ball and tossed it inside, MK caught a glimpse of a dark blue aura, enveloping the handle of the back door before it opened on its own. Two more uniformed ghosts hovered in, telekinetically carrying multiple pitched paper objects.

"Speak of the devil…" Fan turned towards his partner, who was leaning leisurely against a wall. "This year's bunch are already coming in, and if you bothered working with a contractor today, you better put that physical body to good use and start helping!"

"Alright, alright, This one hears you." Xie yawned, then walked over and grabbed the floating effigies. "Hmmm, no helicopters or private jets this year? That's a bit disappointing."

"Well, Mr. Chow sent a pretty big table, boss. We don't think it's gonna fit through the backdoor, so we left it in the park pavilion."

"Excuse me?" MK perked up. At last, a chance to do something instead of just standing there and watching awkwardly. "Do you need something resized? Cause I have just the power for that!"

…

"Y'know, I was wondering what's so special about a table," Sun Wukong poked his head out from behind the door frame, trying very hard to suppress the giggles, "or why they'd make a live-sized one in the first place. Now I get it." 

"Kudos for dedication, I guess?" MK shrugged. "I'm sure their loved ones would, uh, appreciate the gift down there."

With a snap of his fingers, the paper Mahjong table returned to its original size, drastically reducing the remaining space inside the storage room. 

Yeah, the "craft" part of "Arts & Crafts" wasn't really his strong suit, but a piece this detailed and lovingly crafted? It probably took weeks to make. And cost more than an actual Mahjong table.

"Are you two done admiring the beauty of that absurd object? Can we please leave and go somewhere else now?" Nezha's muffled complaint came from the corridors. “It's raining outside again, and if we don't hurry——"

"Even if you do hurry, this one doubts you will be able to get any further than the bus stop, in the two minutes it shall take for the drizzle to become a downpour once more." Xie said, then tossed the last stack of golden joss paper into the storage room.

"Great! Wonderful! Yeah, I'm just looking forward to spending more time with you and your clowns-in-training." Nezha snarked. "How will we ever get anywhere in life without your nifty short-term prophecies?"

"Hey hey, Nezha, chill out. A dash of salt is good n' all, but you are getting spicy over there." Sun Wukong said. "But, speaking of ways to pass the time during a rainy day…"

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he turned to look at Xie. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Judging by what this one just saw? Yes."

"Great! Come here, bud, I have something that will make our stay a lot less boring."

Sun Wukong beckoned MK over, back into the big guest room, then pulled out a tuft of hair. Seconds later, an actual Mahjong table landed squarely on the floor with a thud, complete with chairs and Mahjong sets, followed by an "Ohoho, lovely!" and two simultaneous shouts.

"Seriously? Don't set a bad example for your student!"

"Don't you dare corrupt our guests, Xiao Xie!"

"Please, this one is just joining in on the fun. Our guests have no problem 'corrupting' themselves, so to speak!"

"Oh, c'mon, it's not gambling if you aren't betting actual money!” Sun Wukong exclaimed. "It's like poker, but…for old people. Right, MK?"

"Um, one problem: I don't know how to play Mahjong! Or poker!" MK said, scratching his head. "The only card game I know is Uno."

"Great! You can just learn it on the fly, then, under the watchful eyes of Professor Sun and Teaching Assistant Nezha!"

"No way, Great Sage. I'm not helping you lure your student astray into a potential lifetime of wasted hours and petty vices."

"Really?" Sun Wukong flashed a taunting smile. "I bet you only said that 'cause you don't wanna lose too badly to me. Again."

"Oh, you take that back right now, monkey!" Nezha jabbed a finger at him. "If we were back in the old days and in a gambling house, you'd be going home in nothing but your undershirt and breeches by the end of the day!"

MK did not miss the implication that, at some point in the past, these two had indeed been to an actual gambling house.

"A bold challenge if I've ever heard one!" Sun Wukong's grin widened. "Or is your bark worse than your bite? Brag all you like, but the only way to prove it is to get on the table yourself."

"I——Screw this, I'm in," Nezha took a deep breath, “But only because it will be quite satisfying, kicking the collective behinds of the two most annoying gods I've ever met." A glare at Sun Wukong, then, at Xie. "So. Get. Ready."

"That's the Third Prince I know!" Sun Wukong gave him a thumbs-up. "Bring it on, lad!"

MK gulped. "Yeah, sorry, I think I'm just gonna watch you guys play first. Get a feel of the game before jumping in. Is that alright?"

"No prob. Though this did put us in the most classic bind in the entire history of Mahjong…" Sun Wukong paused dramatically. "The 'Short of a Fourth' problem."

"That won't be me." Fan immediately said, before walking through the nearest wall. "Still have a job to do." He turned, poking his head out of the wall once more. "But by all means, teach Xiao Xie a lesson for me."

"Ah well." Sun Wukong shrugged, reaching towards his head. "Guess this calls for my clone——"

"No!" Nezha smacked his hand away. "That's just blatant cheating!"

"But literal future vision isn't?"

"Hey, it's not like this one can turn it off." Xie protested. He looked like he wanted to say something else, before Sun Wukong stood up, dashing out of the door and towards the altar room. 

"Guys! We are one person short of a Mahjong game here!" A pause. "Niang Niang? Ah Pek? Datuk? Hello? Anyone up to it?"

"...What's he doing?"

"The divine equivalent of spamming telephone calls." Nezha rolled his eyes. "Yelling into the ears of every deity's idol he can find, and hoping for a response."

"For your knowledge, we have a three-people variant of the game here," Xie added, unhelpfully.

…

Way after Sun Wukong had returned, sulking a little but soon jumped right into arguing with Nezha, MK heard a chime. 

Like someone had just dropped a bunch of coins onto a marble floor, but…louder. Okay, he wasn't too sure about that last part, because if the others heard it too, they did not react to the noise at all.

"It's still not gambling! Just a way to keep the score, yanno?" Sun Wukong continued, tossing a tangerine back and forth between his hands——one he probably pinched from a random altar table on his way back. "Also, the game will be pretty boring if you aren't winning something."

"That's the very definition of gambling." Nezha said, with a deadpan expression. "Wagering money or other stakes in a game of chance."

"It's only a stake if it's something of value, and outside of sentimental ones, these offerings have none." Sun Wukong turned to Xie. "Otherwise you won't give them away to folks for free before they spoil, right?"

"Indeed, for we've already eaten them." 

MK squinted at the fruit; not a single bite mark or patch of peeled skin was found on its exterior.

"Ewww." Sun Wukong grimaced. "Anyways, that just makes them even less valuable and further proves my point."

"Is that supposed to be convincing? Because I'm not taking home a bunch of ghost-eaten fruits even if you give them to me for free——"

"Greetings," someone cleared their throat, then said in a deep, magnetic voice, "Is it you who invited this Zhao to your humble temple for a game, friends?"

The door curtain jingled; in walked a dark-faced man with an impressively bushy beard, clad in gilded black armor and red-gold robes. The only thing that didn't make him as intimidating as he should was the black tiger cub, clinging onto his shoulder pauldron like an oversized housecat.

"Yep, Lao Zhao!" Sun Wukong cheered, "Didn't think you'd have the time, but here you are!" He winked at MK, "Now, ya' ever seen a God of Wealth statue in your Dadsy's store? If you did: this is your guy in the flesh, Zhao Gongming himself."

"Oh yeah! The statue," MK tried his best to recall something that looked like the man, yet the only thing that came to mind was the adorable and totally dissimilar one on the counter. "You mean he's..the cat?"

"Ha! I like your little disciple, Great Sage." Zhao Gongming laughed. "Sadly, no. The only feline here is my steed, Biandan Hua." He pointed to the tiger cub. "In her baby form, so I don't get animal control called on me again. Mortals these days are so easily startled, I swear."

"Aww, that's the cutest name I ever heard." Sun Wukong cooed, earning an unimpressed look from the tiger. "Anyways, since we have our fourth guy here, without further ado, let's begin——"

"A second. I'm here for business too. Serious business," he held up a hand. "Have any of you seen a golden scissor? It's about this size, but becomes a lot bigger when transformed," a gesture, "about the size of a city block. Ah, and it can turn into two flood dragons."

"Nope!"

"Hmm. This one doesn't think so."

"The Golden Dragon Shears?" Nezha’s eyes widened. "How did you lose *that*, Marshal Zhao?!"

"I didn't! It's probably my youngest sister again. Bixiao is still rummaging through our study, so I may as well check in the Lower Realms while she's at it." He said. "Make sure no one has 'borrowed' it without their permission."

"Why are y'all looking at me?" 

Awkward silence ensued, broken immediately by Sun Wukong's indignant huff.

"Okay, first, I'm insulted by your insinuations! You eat a few peaches, and suddenly you are THE suspect whenever something goes missing up there." He shook his head. "Second, you have sisters, Lao Zhao? Huh, never know that."

"Well, unless you are planning to have kids in the immediate future, Great Sage, your paths are unlikely to cross!" Zhao Gongming laughed, before resuming his frown. "Our scissors are far from the only missing treasure, though. Other palaces have also reported similar cases over the last hour. I'll just have to go shake down Spirit Official Ma again——wouldn't be the first time that little candlewick bugger tried to pin his thefts on someone else."

At the mention of Spirit Official Ma, Nezha mouthed something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word. Sun Wukong made a face. 

"Yeah, show that Huaguang brat who's boss! But before that, surely you still have time for a Mahjong game? It'll only be a minute up there." 

"Hmm, I suppose it won't hurt." Zhao Gongming replied, twirling his beard. "But with one condition: no one uses their godly powers."

"Define 'godly powers'?" 

"Anything that requires intent to activate." Zhao Gongming said. "Your golden vision, active divination instead of passive, uncontrollable foresights, my power over fortune..."

A sigh. "I've played enough games where that is allowed. With my disciples it always turns into a teaching session, and playing against my fellow gods of wealth feels more like a power-measuring contest than a true match of skills, especially when Bi Gan was involved." He shook his head. "For a scholarly god of wealth, the old man can be more competitive than us martial ones."

"I feel ya', Lao Zhao. It's always the old geezers who play dirty."

"Hello? Excuse me?" Nezha asked. "Am I the only one who's more concerned about the missing treasure of mass destruction than the silly Mahjong game?!"

"Yes, yes you are." Sun Wukong smirked. "It's just a tiny scissor! What mass destruction can it cause, other than to Art & Crafts materials?"

"Says the blissfully ignorant monkey who has never seen it in action," Nezha retorted, then lowered his head with a defeated look. "Whatever. I don't care anymore. Just don't mention me when the Celestial Host starts pointing fingers and your sisters come knocking, Marshal Zhao."

"You have my words, Third Prince." Zhao Gongming made a fist-and-palm salute, almost jokingly. "For I'm not one to tattle, even if it means enduring Yunxiao's scolding alone. Now, what are the stakes for this game?"

…

After a brief discussion, the four had settled on using some unopened and unoffered snacks as their stakes. Which still didn't beat the gambling allegations, according to Nezha. 

Well, it was better than betting all your belongings on a rigged game and losing them all, at least. And after watching a few rounds of their play, MK's only thought was Dang, if that goldfish demon chose this game back then, he wouldn't even need to cheat to wipe the floor with me.

"You know, if someone tells me I'll be watching the Great Sage, two celestial gods, and a ghost play Mahjong like old people at a community center during the first day of our vacation..." MK mumbled to himself, "I'll probably believe it, actually."

Despite having only the vaguest idea of the rules——whoever completed a set of certain tiles first won the game——and not getting any closer to understanding them, he was determined to keep watching. 

If only because Sun Wukong winked at him right before tossing the dice and starting the round, and he was pretty sure it meant "Watch and learn, bud!" in a way that suggested the message went beyond a simple Mahjong game.

"What you are seeing now is not a typical day for most of us, if that makes you feel less disillusioned." Fan said, without looking up from the documents he was flipping through. 

A while ago, the ghost had returned with a stack of them, and the papers were now floating around him in a ring, suspended by the dark blue glow of telekinesis. If that wasn't the most stylish way of doing paperworks, MK didn’t know what was.

"Uh, but I'm not?" MK said. "It's just…a lot less serious than I thought, this whole 'gods' business, and honestly, I'm not complaining! The Great Sage looks like he’s having a good time too."

Back on the table, Sun Wukong and Nezha yelled "Pong!" at the same time, then immediately glared at each other.

"Hey, I said that first!"

"That doesn’t matter, because you are cheating!" Nezha huffed. "It is impossible for two players to Pong at the same time unless someone has sneaked an extra tile in there while shuffling them, and we all know who that is."

"Well yeah, but I'm just evening the odds in a rigged game, Laodi." Sun Wukong said, eyeing Xie sharply. "For the sake of fairness, I'll allow you to cheat back too. How 'bout that?"

"Good grief, and I thought Master Taiyi was the most unabashed cheater I ever met on the table." Nezha took a deep breath and announced, "New battle objective: show the two cheaters who's boss, without lowering myself to their level."

"Well, this one can't blame the Great Sage for it. Two more turns, and he’ll claim the first win."

"Keep your visions to yourself, ghost!"

"Thanks a lot, Xiao Xie." Sun Wukong grinned. "That gives me even more reason to do it."

A few more turns, a few more clacks, and the monkey was left staring wordlessly at the table.

"Hey, what the heck! Your vision isn't right."

"This one's vision is always right. That, however, isn't one." Xie gave them an innocent look. "It's just the time-honored tactic of 'lying', friend."

"Serve you right for trusting him and cheating." Nezha snorted, before reaching out to claim the discarded tile.

"Why, ya' little——!"

"Credit where credit's due, that sure is a more entertaining use of precognition than the average Dipper Mansion chess game." Zhao Gongming commented, amidst the chaos. "I look forward to what you will bring to the table next, budding little wealth god."

"More bullshit, that's what he'll bring." Fan crossed his arms. "And he wonders why I don't play chess with him anymore."

"Well, I guess it could be worse." MK said. "They could be playing Monopoly."

"What's a Mono-poly?"

"A game that ruins friendships and turns family members against each other. Mei tried introducing her cousins to that during a New Year gathering." MK shuddered. "Some of them still won't talk to her."

"Sounds like it needs to be exorcized." Fan said, without a single hint that he was joking. 

"Please don't."

MK kind of got the impression that he was the "by-the-book" cop of their buddy cop pair, who sounded serious whether he meant it or not, but maybe the kiddy soul would take things just that literally.

Sadly, his clarification ended up killing the conversation. For the next few moments, they just sat side-by-side, listening to the clacking of Mahjong tiles.

And the clacking had intensified, as the game picked up speed. Sun Wukong in particular was speeding up into a blur, fidgeting in his chair, using only one hand to move the tiles while juggling the same poor tangerine with the other.

Now, he was always in motion, gesturing as he talked, grabbing something or the other wherever they went. But the fidgeting had intensified to a point well beyond what MK was used to, which was making him fidgety too.

After a loud "Would you please stop that?" from Nezha, MK finally mustered enough courage to half-prod at Fan——and immediately drew his hand back! Wow, ghosts are freezing to the touch. 

(Okay, he wasn't really touching anything solid, but it felt like reaching into a pocket of sub-zero-degree air, made even more jarring by the heat of summer.)

"Sorry sir, one question." MK asked. "I don't really have a good grip on the rules yet, but is the Great Sage in trouble now? Like, is he losing?"

"No idea. I'm not bored enough to watch and guess their sets." Fan said. "But if you are talking about his hyperactivity, that's not a result of panic."

"Then what’s he doing?"

"He's teaching you how to fight someone with precognition."

"By…acting like a wind-up toy?"

"On the surface level, yes." He answered. "How much do you know about divination?"

To pain. 

No, not that one. MK shook his head wildly. "Next to nothing, I guess."

"Good. You aren't losing out on much." Fan said, before frowning. "I'd rather know less about it, but Xiao Xie just has to be an insufferable prick, so here we are. Essentially, think of Fate like a game of cards, or Mahjong, or whatever game of chance of your liking."

MK chuckled. The idea of Fate being a Uno game was quite a funny one, not gonna lie, if only because he'd get to figuratively shout "Reverse!" at someone.

"The Way is the ruleset, what is allowed and not allowed to happen. The winning and losing conditions. The cards and tiles are the individual events and outcomes, happening to a being as they draw them, one by one."

"To the Dipper Mansion celestials in charge of Fate, divination is like having your master's golden eyes and fiery vision. They can see through the cards and tiles, know what's on them instinctively, and are thus banned from playing, only able to shuffle and deal them out on the Celestial Host's orders."

Zhao Gongming's tiger, having jumped off its master's shoulder long ago, pawed at Sun Wukong's twitching tail. This only egged the monkey on, as they promptly began a game of 'catch my tail if you can' off the table.

"For some," he looked at Nezha, his face a mask of intense concentration, "it isn't so much divination as making snap-second, highly accurate guesses, aided by superb memorization skills. To the more unfortunate mortals, however, it's like seeing recordings of multiple games playing side-by-side, with no way of knowing which one is theirs."

"Lucky for my sworn brother and almost no one else, he can see snippets of a single recording, which just happens to be ours." Fan said. "It's also random, very short-reaching, and makes the part of his soul that bears the brunt of it into a kooky brat with no self-preservation instincts. But I've complained enough. Now that you know how his precognition works, what will you do to counter it?"

"Does not playing the game count?"

"A wise choice. But suppose you don't get to choose."

"I, uh." Think, smartie kid, think! What is the relationship between ultra-hyperactive monkey behavior and beating a ghost with future vision on the Mahjong table? (Oh geez, it's like that one question about ravens and writing desks in that foreign children's book again…)

"I guess I'll make myself, well, unpredictable and even more random?" He finally said, hesitantly.

"Not very specific, but you get the gist of it." Fan nodded. "Going back to my analogy, your master knows his opponent is making a random draw too, except each card he draws allows him to see others claiming or discarding a certain tile."

"So he decides to add more useless cards into the pool. False maneuvers, feints," Fan pointed to the tiger, still pawing at Sun Wukong’s tail, "Artificially creating another game on the side to divert the visions. Nothing can be a hundred percent predictable, not even literal future vision, and if only my partner realized that, he'd be a lot less annoying and not on the way to getting absolutely destroyed in this game."

"Wow. That's very clever and all, but should you really be telling me this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know much about the Underworld, outside of how Monkey King wrecked the place and scribbled him and his monkeys' name off the Book of Life and Death——" MK waved nervously, "No hard feelings 'bout that, ey? But if the Great Sage is teaching me how to counter you guys, does that mean you'll be going after us at some point in the future?"

"Technically, we'll be going after everyone who isn't an immortal or formally ranked celestial, sooner or later." Fan said. "Your master is firmly in the first category, and for you, that won't be in a long, long time, if it eases your worries."

"Yeah, no. Not at all. Thanks."

"You don't like ghosts very much, do you." He said, then, before MK could reply, added, "Which is fine. We don't like ourselves either."

"Uhhhh, don't be?" Oh gosh, was there really a way to word this without offending ghosts more? "It's not like I dislike you guys! Like, you and the other ghost cops seem pretty chill. It's just, y'know, a bit freaky, seeing the walking reminder of my inevitable mortality and all, ahahaha…"

"It is. And I won't tell you what to feel about that." Fan held up a finger, and the documents he had been reading were instantly sorted into neat little stacks in midair. "But if there is one thing you remember from our conversation, let it be this: no game lasts forever."

"One has to end in order for another to begin, and a game where no one wins or loses is gonna be a very boring one. We, officials of the Ten Courts, are but the keepers of scores, and you don't have to win in order to have fun while it lasts."

"Hu le." Zhao Gongming's calm voice cut through the chit-chat, followed by a light thud of him pushing the tiles over. "Four Kongs."

All eyes were immediately on him.

"By Buddha, Lao Zhao! No wonder you've been so quiet."

"Ugh!" Nezha facepalmed. "I was so close!" He shot a half-hearted glare at Sun Wukong. "This is all your fault, by the way. Without the extra tiles you snuck in there, he'd have never gotten such a rare combination."

"C'mon, maybe he's just that lucky?"

"Very enlightening." Xie hummed, handing over the bag of peach-flavored chips to Zhao. "This one knows he won't be winning the first round, but its certainly a great start!"

"And this is why you don't gamble with a literal, formally ranked, celestial god of wealth." Fan said, after a long, stunned silence. "Even when he isn't actively using his influence, for fairness's sake."

"He's not?"

"If he did, he'd just win every round, and there wouldn't be a game to speak of."

…

They stopped playing when the rain stopped, at which point the sun had already disappeared below the horizon. Zhao Gongming left halfway after getting an astral call from his sisters, shaking his head, giving MK the chance to finally join in. 

Sun Wukong had stopped cheating after that——at least not as blatantly, if Nezha's words were to be believed. To MK, he just settled back into his old laid back attitude, which, in turn, made his own palms less sweaty as he faced off against the other two.

He still lost, badly, only barely managing a win at the very end. Not that it mattered, since Nezha had soundly kicked everyone's butts like he wanted, coming out at the top by a wide margin of three bags of chips and a single Tau Sar Piah.

"Let this be your lesson, Monkie Kid," he said, with a hint of childish glee, "That hard work, knowledge of statistics, and memorization skills will always triumph over luck and a bunch of cheating clowns."

"Ah well. I'll let you have your moment, Laodi, since it's pretty much the only fight you can win against me." Sun Wukong responded with a cheeky smile, then tore open his bag of chips and started munching loudly on them. 

"Yes, keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll actually start believing in it." Nezha smirked, before standing up from his chair. "I'll just be over here, basking in the glow of victory and trying to not run into my brother on the way back——"

As if on cue, a shout came from outside.

"GREETINGS! This Hui An pays his respect to the City God and his attendants!"

"Annnnnd there goes my good mood." Nezha muttered. A formation started glowing under his feet. "Goodbye. If anyone asks, I've never been here."

Almost immediately after he disappeared in a blaze of pink fire, the speaker outside with the loud, booming, megaphone-against-your-ears voice marched through the doorway.

"Oh. Hi there, Muzha."

"HI THERE, as the younger generation says these days!" The tall man replied cheerfully. The dangling green ties on his hair bun were swaying back and forth, as he made a bow. 

"Heard you yelling into Lady Guanyin's statue a while ago, Great Sage, so I decided to pay a visit. Is my brother here too? Longnü said she saw you two flying together, while weaving the storm clouds with her kins."

"Well, in Nezha's exact words, 'If anyone asks, I've never been here'." Sun Wukong shrugged.  "So no, he is not here." 

"Ah. Embarrassed, I see!" He exclaimed, making his way to the Mahjong table and staring down at the tiles. "He really shouldn't be, though. By my religious vows, I'm supposed to refrain from such worldly pass-times, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be preachy about it!"

Now MK was starting to have an idea of what "Too much" meant. Namely, his complete lack of volume control.

"Well, looks like I've dropped by at a rather inopportune time, so I won't keep you fellows any longer, Great Sage. Thanks for keeping my little brother company, though——"

His sight met MK's, and only then did Muzha seem to notice his presence. "And DEAR ME! Is that your new disciple I've heard so much about? A pleasure to meet you too, young one!"

He reached out for a handshake. MK made the mistake of taking it, and immediately winced. 

"Oww, owww——Nice to meet you too?!"

"Please stop crashing my disciple's hand, Muzha."

"Sorry, sorry!" He laughed, releasing his iron grip at last. "It's just so wonderful to see the juniors coming into their own, I get a bit carried away. Still, this acolyte looks forward to working with you in the days to come!"

"Man, we are busy here today, aren't we?" Xie commented, just as the overly cheerful and loud immortal made a turn and headed for the backdoor. "So many visitors. Not that this one is complaining."

"...Yeah." MK agreed, after awkwardly waving Muzha goodbye.

Well, one thing was certain: godhood internship or not, he'd sure have one hell of a story to tell once he got back home.

[murfpersonalblog]

I had to pause reading this to scream laugh holler rolling in my grave at @siahatha's new fic & Louis's arm-burning scene--it's SO good! 👏 This is just me fangirling & thinking out loud; it was way too long to put in the comments at AO3.

Four little bars have been burned (and must have burned for a while, Jesus, he sleeps like the dead) into Louis’ forearm, hand, and fingers from where they smoldered in the little bit of light. Lestat must have moved Louis’ hand when he realized. Impulsively (premeditated), Louis slides his hand back into the light, eyes on Lestat. “Absolument pas!/ Absolutely not,” Lestat snarls, wrenching Louis’ hand back into the shadow. It hurts a little, but maybe only because of the burn on his arm.  “Joues avec moi/ play with me,” Louis whines, and he means it. Lestat is overreacting (typical, Louis can only be harmed on Lestat’s terms apparently) and Armand would have gotten it, would have let him burn just a little, and allowed him the grace of repentance.  “I will not,” Lestat works his jaw.... "....What’s wrong with some sexual processing? What’s the difference between a spanking and a little sun?” “....The difference, mon amour, is that I am not Armand. I get what I want, and what I want is my darling safe and sated."

I LOVE the contrast b/t Armand vs Lestat, and the diametrically opposed ways they handle Louis' mental illness--enabling vs enforcing. There's good & bad on both unhealthily toxic sides ofc; pampering & spoiling vs protecting & domineering; and there's a time & a place for both/either--but what really matters most is what LOUIS wants in a husband:

Lestat’s nostrils flare. “Impossible! I wake up to the smell of you burning your arm off, and now I’m being punished with century-old pettiness, for what? Declining to indulge your suicidality through the thin veneer of sado-masochism? Why would I pleasure you with pain when I am so very skilled at pleasuring you with pleasure? No, Louis, I will not burn you with the sun when I can take you into my mouth instead. Now, please, let’s go to coffin so that I may do just that and we can get some fucking sleep.” So there it was. Lestat was the best lay of his life and he wouldn’t let him hurt himself. And brother, Louis does feel warm here in the shadows with Lestat and all his loving firmness. Louis continues to be pleasantly surprised by New Lestat’s patience. He’ll return the blow job. He feels his honey deserves it.  “I think antidepressants would be a more apt metaphor,” Louis says, because he’s not about to just roll over.... Lestat rolls his eyes, actor expressive. “Regardless. A—what is the English?—a pushover! I am not. I will not allow you to hurt yourself and I do not give up. I will always be there to steady your hand.” Lestat tightens his grip on Louis’ arm. “And I will play no more of these games,” Lestat says, ending the discussion, scooping Louis up and carrying him to coffin, where he enjoys feeling weightless as Lestat steps over the coffin room’s threshold.  Later, Louis is being held in the true dark of the coffin, where it smells like Lestat and everything that means to Louis. He smiles, ignoring the sinking feeling. He’s gotten what he wanted. “I love you,” he whispers into the dark.

As pridefully independent & stubborn as Louis is, he still WANTS someone to snatch his hand away and tell him NO and bodily carry him out of the room and put him in a safe cocoon/coffin and hold him close & make everything better.

I'm just reminded of our very first scene with Lou demonstrating to Daniel what vampirism looks like in the sun; and Armand's reaction.

Like, it was wild that Lou even went that far, burning his arm just to prove to Daniel that he's really a vampire; when back in SanFran all he needed to do was flash his fangs & move at super speed.

Lou's chronically suicidal, but burning in the sun isn't the only way to self-destruct; he's BEEN slowly killing himself EVERY DANG DAY.

Armand erroneously thought Lou reading Claudia's diaries & being interviewed was what was gonna send him off the deep end again; but Daniel's proving that Louis NEEDS to face the past & confront his trauma so it can be processed & he can truly start healing--not bury it under the rug & force himself to forget.

Sure, Armand pulled him out of the sun in SanFran, but he had/has been doing LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE to pull Louis out of his continuing spiral; often contributing to Louis' bad practices; or standing back and watching Louis "act out"--these are CRIES FOR HELP; but Armand can't see it; he just judges Louis & resents him in silence. The 100+ drunken/drugged blackout sexcapades eff-off-and-find-me-laters; asking Armand to lobotomize him 3 days after he'd had a terrible mental breakdown; taking on the Dom role when Lou's not even good at it & doesn't enjoy it; squirelling himself away in Dubai eating human food that tastes like glue--it's ALL self-mortification; it's ALL suicide. Louis wants to get OUT, but he needs help that Armand just can't give him.

Sadly, Lestat, for all his flaws & faults, is the one Louis REALLY wants; and (giving the devil his props) he's much better equipped to handle Lou, cuz he's not afraid to bully Louis go head-to-head with him. Fighting is NOT the right way ofc; and Loustat aren't inherently predisposed to fighting at all--they're both actually incredibly sensitive & soft--but the struggles in Loustat's life hardened them & conditioned them to become fighters--nurture versus nature.

Loustat's problem is that they needed to learn how to communicate WITHOUT the crutch of telepathy (which clearly hadn't helped Loumand anyway ); and realize that as companions/husbands, every conversation/connection doesn't actually NEED to be borne of violence--seeing each other as obstacles to be crossed or fights/battles to be won.

One of my favorite lines in a fic is from BlueBloodBruise's Go Fetch God:

He could hear Lestat pacing downstairs, playing music that galloped nowhere, raging at the world with two fists up. If he closed his eyes, Louis could still hear him weep, howling sobs so freighted with grief they reminded Louis of the screams of mating herons.... "What, Louis?! What in God’s rotten hell do you want? You know I can't read your mind!" "You." This is the definition of madness, Louis thinks dimly...trying to convince his murderer to let himself be loved. "I want you to let me in. I want to let you in without being afraid you’ll tear me to pieces, like God would have if he'd peered into my soul when I was mortal. If I fear you, I can’t love you, Lestat. You have to share yourself with me—" "I did! I shared my blood, my home with you, my—" "No. I need you to put your fists down and look at me. Not like some object you created, but like an equal, your hus—" .

They needed to find a balance--as EQUALS. Passivity & cowardice isn't the right way either, and sometimes when you see your loved one doing dangerous stupid ish, you HAVE to step up and stop them; even if they get mad and it causes a fight and they yell & holler that they hate you.

ARMAND NEVER HAD THAT! Armand went from a sheltered childhood in poverty to parents who sold/threw him away; to sex slavery & captivity; to white-savior hero worship living with uber-hedonistic Marius who spoiled him rotten & taught him to mix pain w/ pleasure via BDSM; to 200+ years in a brainwashed Satanic cult of self-loathing & self-mortification (all pain & zero pleasure); to LEADING that Satanic coven & brainwashing others to follow the Great Laws & gaslighting humans to not notice that the calls are coming from inside the house. This is all Armand's ever had.

Louis was his first/only "real" relationship with a normal person (someone not his Maker & not a coven-member). Armand overcorrected all the harsh treatments he got & gave b4, to treat Lou with kid gloves--when really, Lou needed tough love--not someone to "chop his hands off" the way Armand treated Nicki, but someone to really HELP him cuz they UNDERSTAND & love him.

Lou was deeply traumatized by his formative years, too--his baby brother Paul in & out of mental asylums, cast off by Papa DPDL & coddled by their mother Florence; who babied Paul but HATED any signs of LOUIS being ANOTHER "fragile son." Anything "wrong" with Lou he'd need to figure TF out how to get rid of ASAP!

Louis couldn't afford to be mentally unstable, depressed--he needed to buck up & take care of this nasty AF family that hated/resented/didn't understand him. The only one he'd ever connected with was Paul--who committed suicide right in front of him after Louis told him he loved him; only for Lou's own mother to blame him for Paul's death like wtf.

The only one who understood even a fraction of what Lou'd gone through and how Lou operated & what he'd want/need IS LESTAT. Cuz he'd been there, too.

Les grew up dirt poor, but his family dynamic was uncannily similar to the DPDLs; only instead of Paul, Les had Gabrielle. Les saw his mom Gabrielle in Louis, (and Armand KNOWS this; which is why his whole backstory/account of Lesmand in Paris is SUS AF). Louis was SEEN by Lestat--they're kindred spirits; two sides of the same coin--for better and for worse; cuz when Loustat's in sync it's beautiful; but when they clash THEY CLASH. 💀

Loumand has never been in sync; they're only ever on the same page when they're performing/pretending/role-playing. Armand constantly says/does the WRONG thing--

--then victim-blames Louis afterwards; redirecting any and all culpability OFF himself and ONTO LOU (or Claudia, Daniel, Santiago, Tom, Dick and Harry....), as if it's all Louis' fault what happened to him, and not the result of Armand's contributing/mishandling of Louis' PTSD.

As opposed to the way Lestat talks to Louis--

--not focusing Lou's suicide attempt as the result of something Lou did to HIMSELF, but rather something done TO Louis--(mental) illness isn't HIS FAULT; it's something he can get HELP for; and Les loves him and is just waiting for him to be ready to talk to him.

But don't wait too long! At Rue Royale Lestat often sat silently letting all their messes simmer & boil over. What's amazing about fanfics like @siahatha's Alligator Tears (a sequel to Renaissance) is that it gives Loustat the chance to sit down and have those much-needed talks, hard as they are, so they can finally MAKE PEACE and HEAL as a better couple. Lestat also KNOWS Louis, and that's why he can get in Louis' face and ALSO tell him that he's not gonna sit back and let Louis hurt himself--and their relationship--anymore. Lou's anorexia's a symptom of a much more complicated issue (a vegan vampire still grappling with what it means to kill people in order to feed healthily), so that is a delicate matter that will take time for them to negotiate--one of my fave parts of Renaissance is when Loustat's in the blood donor truck--but any self-immolation will be nipped in the bud IMMEDIATELY. 😤👏

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 17: [DRAGON AU] twins, newspaper club / rescuers

ao3 link

note: requested by @innocent-beano! i got kind of sidetracked/carried away bc i was thinking recently about these other characters' stories in this au, so this might not be 100% what i was meant to do... hopefully i still got a bit of that big dog energy for beel you wanted?

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“Look at this guy! Doesn’t he look like you?”

Beel leans very, very far down and sniffs at the lizard perched over my knuckles. A strange look comes over his face, and I quickly snatch my hand away before he can attempt to swallow it.

Belphie wanders out of the bushes with a low grumble, then shakes himself and ducks down to face me. There’s a tail hanging out of his mouth that I can’t quite identify, but I’d rather not ask, or else he’ll drop it half-eaten at my feet.

“Anything good?” I ask him, helping him pick some spiky berries out of his crest. He snorts, then tips his head back and swallows whatever poor critter he’s caught. “At least you had a snack.”

He grinds his teeth, then turns and clomps off in search of something with a little more substance. I crouch down and gently tip the lizard back into the undergrowth - with a little persuasion, it soon scampers off.

Beel watches it leave with an air of clear gloom. I pat his snout apologetically.

“You’ll catch something better soon,” I tell him as he huffs. “You don’t even like lizard. Actually, do you think that’d be cannibalism?”

He gazes back at me. His big purple eyes are somehow both dizzyingly deep and completely devoid of thought. “...you don’t know what that is.”

“—OFF—”

“...do you hear something?” I ask after a moment, turning to the side. Something buzzes past my nose. “Whoa—”

“—ARGH!”

Beel jumps to his feet so quickly that his claws leave deep grooves in the dirt. A moment later, Belphie comes cannoning back out of the forest, and immediately starts nosing anxiously at my feet.

“Guys,” I say, a little exasperated. “That wasn’t me.”

Belphie blinks up at me, then exhales and quickly sits up straight again. Beel still looks anxious.

I listen hard for a moment. Sure enough…

“—DAMN DOG—!”

Same voice as before - it sounds like it’s coming from the overhang corridor. Lucifer keeps watch there sometimes, but even if he is there, I’m not entirely sure he’d bother trying to help.

“Let’s go check it out,” I announce, seizing one of Beel’s horns and hauling myself up onto his back. “It sounds like someone’s in trouble.”

“Oh, for— GET OUT OF HERE!” hollers a suit of armour - a knight? - as Beel grinds to a halt in the middle of the road. “We have got ENOUGH TO BE DEALING WITH! I am NOT FIGHTING DRAGONS TODAY!”

“Hey, hey, it's alright,” I call, and pause to give him a pat on the back before sliding down his side. “He’s not going to eat you.”

Belphie chooses that moment to drop out of the air and land directly behind me. I’d half expected him to go flapping off back home at the idea of having to get involved in an altercation. “...he won’t, either.”

The knight stares at me blankly. Somehow, despite having their entire face obscured by the helmet, they manage to look completely bewildered.

A split second later, the person beneath the helmet abruptly tears it off, and squints at me in disbelief. “You’re a baby!”

“I’m fifteen,” I say, stung, then pause and look around. Apart from the knight and the three friends they’re still determinedly shielding with their arm (don't knights usually have swords?), there’s nothing else here. “...was that you screaming?”

“Wasn’t screaming,” She says, suddenly evasive, and rubs a little self-consciously at a deep scar across her cheek. “Anyway, love to chat, but we don’t have time for this—”

Belphie - who’s been sniffing curiously at the air - growls softly and nudges my arm. I blink. “...someone’s bleeding.”

“Sorry,” says one of the knight's companions dryly - the one with pink hair and an easy smile, despite the substantial wound in his leg. “Would you like me to stop?”

It’s not an enormous injury, but it’s worrying nonetheless. It looks like something bit him, actually. “What happened?”

The group of four exchanges a look.

“...well, they’re dragons, so…”

“Still, you never know….”

“Oh, come on, as if—”

A woman in a cloak steps out from behind the knight. An odd shiver runs down my spine as I meet her brilliant green eyes. “I’ll keep it short. Mephisto here just got bit by a Huntsman hound, so we’re fairly sure the troops’ll be here any minute to execute us, or whatever it is the king pays them to do—”

“Huntsman?” I repeat. Last I checked, they didn’t go after innocent civilians. Have we walked into something dangerous? “What did—”

“Stolen valour,” She says, then points to the not-knight, apparently. “That’s not Alecto’s armour.”

“It’s not my fault,” Alecto grumbles. “I literally can’t take it off. They ought to have clearance for curses, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the first thing they haven’t thought of,” mutters the last man, adjusting his glasses. Something glints from just beneath his shirt collar as he shifts.

“We really don’t have time for explanations right now,” The cloaked lady interjects, shooting them both a rather testy look. “Best we all get out of here as fast as possible, or—”

She stops dead. Belphie lifts his head with a snarl. There are people coming from below the mountain - people with a lot of equipment. They’ll be here within ten minutes if we’re not careful. It's probably nothing the dragons can't handle, but under the circumstances....

“Get on Beel’s back,” I say suddenly.

“What?”

“Get on his back,” I say, more severely this time, and pat his side until he lowers himself to the ground. “We’ll get up in the sky and distract them. He’ll take you somewhere more hidden. It’s getting dark - you’ll have good cover.”

“That’s an awful idea,” says the lady, but Alecto is already ushering her over.

“We don’t have any other options, do we?” asks the pink-haired man, limping after her. “Hey - Astaroth. Don’t tell me you're staying behind.”

Astaroth - the one with glasses - purses his mouth, then clicks his tongue. I catch his eyes flickering analytically over the dragons, and feel myself tense a little.

After a moment, he starts, “My crutches…”

That’s what you’re worried about?? I sigh and give Beel another pat to get him to stay still. He’s starting to shift restlessly on his claws. “Just take them with you. Beel can handle it.”

“No guarantee this’ll work, you know,” says Alecto, despite the fact that she’s now helping shove Astaroth up Beel’s flank as well.

“I don’t have any other ideas." I watch as she snaps the helmet back over her head. “Besides - if they see a dragon, they have to go after it. It's basically what they do.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” She replies, then hauls herself up as well. “You sure your buddy here won’t eat us?”

“He doesn’t like the taste of metal— ahem, Beel.” I tap him on the nose, and he quickly turns around from sniffing hopefully at the lady’s cloak. “You’re lucky it’s him, ‘cause Mammon does.”

“There’s another one? You know more dragons?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about that right now—” I pause. “—um, what’s your name, miss?”

“Just call me Wiz,” She says with a twinkle. Despite (presumably) having never ridden a dragon before, she’s already made herself comfortable.

“I’m Mephisto,” adds the pink-haired man with a dramatic drawl. “If anyone cares. I hope you don’t mind, by the way, but I’m bleeding all over your friend here.”

I open my mouth to respond, then finally realise just how loud the pursuit is getting. “...and I think their hounds are leading them straight to it. Hold extra tight - Beel, let’s go!”

For the briefest of moments, I’m afraid he’ll just sit down again - but Beel snaps straight to action, and thunders up the overpass, digging his claws deep into the mountain to clamber up the sheer face. A shower of rocks tumbles down the pathway, and the sound of footsteps grows louder.

At the same time, without prompting, Belphie ducks down and uses his snout to smoothly flip me onto his back, then kicks off the ground and into the air. The huntsmen are visible as soon as he does, and all eyes turn to us as he climbs towards the clouds.

Their faces are about evenly split between the bewilderment of someone whose payslip doesn’t cover for targets of this degree, and the sharp focus of someone whose payslip most certainly does. Those are the ones move in with almost choreographed efficiency, pointing all manner of weapons up at us, and Belphie rears back in preparation.

But then the white-haired man at the forefront - the one in the captain's badge - throws out an arm, and gestures further up the overpass, holding tight onto the leash of a hound straining to sprint up the ridge that Beel just scaled. As he speaks, though, he meets my eyes, and it seems to stop him in his tracks.

Belphie doesn’t wait for an instruction. He falls upon the moment of weakness as instinct declares, and dives down before it can pass.

The sheer force of the air as he drops pushes me flat against his back. As I attempt to regain my bearings, his claws close around a man at the back of the group - snarling, Belphie swerves up again and throws him, struggling, down into the rocks again. He lands with a horrible thud, unmoving, and he trills as if in victory.

I duck into the fur at the base of his neck as a great roar rises from the men below. This time, they ignore the captain’s orders. There's a hail of darts - some kind of great flaming contraption - spears, a net weighed down by rocks - some of which Belphie only just evades. He guides them in almost a dance, always flying just a little bit more out of reach, forcing them to follow along with his game of tag.

He climbs higher, higher still into the sky, only to dip down again; closer each time, circling like a taunting vulture. He folds his wings in, a cold chill expanding and blossoming as if from his core - and as he makes another ascent, suddenly, I make eye contact with another of the hunters below.

I look into the pale face of a boy who can barely be any older than me - blue eyes narrowed in terrified concentration, drawing back the string of a bow. Before I can finish wondering what on earth he’s doing with the Huntsmen, something hits me in the chest, and the entire sky turns sideways.

Belphie screeches, and it’s only once I take in his silhouette above me that I realise I’m not on his back anymore. The entire rocky mountains and dark forest open up from below, as if to swallow me whole.

Two things happen in very quick succession. Belphie roars - properly, fully roars - and it feels like the atmosphere itself freezes solid, if only for a moment. Then I land on soft fur, and he shoots off into the horizon, leaving behind a vast expanse of white ice.

I don’t look back to see what became of the Huntsmen, or the boy who fired the arrow. Mostly, I’m focused on the arrow itself.

“Shit!” I hear someone exclaim nearly as soon as Belphie touches ground. “I knew there weren’t enough of ‘em after us!”

A cold hand catches me by the arms and attempts to pull me off his back. Belphie snaps at them. “Hey— easy. We’re trying to help.”

“Hello,” I mumble absently as Astaroth - balancing himself on a crutch with one arm, and supporting me with the other - peers into my face. “Where are we?”

“Hell if I know. Somewhere in the forest, I guess.”

That makes sense. There’s a tree over there. “You get here okay?”

He grimaces. “About as okay as we can be.”

I lift my head, then pause. There’s an arrow sticking out of the eye-slit in Alecto’s helmet.

“I know,” She says with a loud sigh. “I think it’s stupid, too.”

I was more worried about her potentially getting shot in the eye, but she seems in decent spirits. She darts forward to help Astaroth lower me to the ground. Isn’t she going to do anything about it?

Belphie lets out a low whine and puffs a blast of cold air into my face, as if to keep me awake. I give his snout an appreciative rub. “...I’m alright, Belphie.”

“So you really did give them names,” says Alecto with a small grin.

“Well, they already had names. They just told me.”

“...you can talk to them?”

“Sort of. Well, not really. But we get each other anyway.” Belphie chooses that moment to release a long, grumbling sigh. “...Belphie’s telling me off for getting shot.”

“We should really do something about that,” Astaroth says, eyeing the arrow.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, actually. If I just don’t look at it…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He replies. “That probably just means it’s got venom on the tip. Come on— Mephisto’s building a fire.”

‘Setting random bits of the undergrowth on fire’ seems to be a more apt description for whatever he’s doing when we push through to the little clearing ahead. Beel, watching him with rapt fascination, turns around quickly as Belphie pushes out of the bushes first, wearing the dragon equivalent of a toothy grin. Then he spots me and immediately deflates.

Belphie slinks over to the dark side and the clearing and firmly sits down, tucking his legs beneath himself and setting his head on the ground. His fur flops over his eyes, as if he’s sulking - he only responds with a quiet grumble when Beel attempts to nudge him for answers.

“Goodness,” says Wiz, though she doesn’t actually look that surprised. “I was hoping you’d gotten away. They must’ve split up…”

Beel is circling anxiously around me, and he keeps putting out Mephisto’s fires with each apprehensive sweep of his tail. He opens his mouth as if to snap at the arrow - attempting to get rid of it the only way he knows how - but ultimately can only sit down again, staring at me mournfully.

“It’s fine, Beel,” I assure him. “It doesn’t even hurt much.”

“Yes, the panic will do that to you,” Wiz says a little wryly, gently forces me to sit down, and forms a triangle around the arrow shaft with her hands. “Hold your breath.”

“What? Ow!” The arrow seems to come out cleanly of its own accord. I stare down at the hole in my clothes in bewilderment, then finally notice the odd shimmer at Wiz’s fingertips. “Oh.”

“Oh?” She repeats without looking up, making a motion as if stitching something up. The wound closes before my eyes. “There you are, sweetheart. You’re lucky it didn’t hit anything vital - whoever shot that arrow wasn’t very strong.”

Mephisto, evidently defeated by Beel's flame-quenching tail, finally gives up and sets about building an actual campfire in the middle of the clearing. I catch Belphie peeking at him from beneath his fur as he does. I'm a little jealous of how good Mephisto seems to be at coaxing sparks from rocks.

“You did check for venom, right?” Astaroth asks Wiz. “They use some real nasty mixes, you know.”

“Nothing I couldn’t dilute.” She pats me on the head with a smile and lets me lean back against Beel. “You might get a bit of a fever in a few days, but you should be right as rain after that.”

“...so you’re a witch?” I ask a little nervously. I feel like I should be more surprised, but I guess hanging out with dragons kind of numbs your reaction to these things. “That’s why you were…”

“You didn’t really believe the stolen valour thing, did you?” asks Alecto. “Nah, we're on the run for a lot of things - but not that. Best you don’t know any details, though…”

She seems to spot a question in my eyes. “...I wasn’t lying about the curse, though. I literally can’t take the armour off.”

“For now,” Wiz murmurs, a dark look on her face, then gestures for Alecto to come closer. “Come on, love. Need me to sort that out?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Alecto declares, and yanks the arrow out of the eye-slit, then sweeps off her helmet to reveal a grin. I flinch a little. The arrow did get her in the eye, and it looks just about as bad as I could've expected it to.

She catches the look on my face again and shoots me a thumbs up. “No worries, tiny. I don’t feel it. Literally.”

“You’re all working me overtime,” Wiz sighs, cradling Alecto’s face tenderly as the magic does its work. “Watch, Roth's going to have a secret scrape somewhere, too.”

I watch her work, unable to look away as the muscle and skin repairs itself before my eyes. If this is what the village people thought I was capable of… maybe I should’ve been a bit more flattered when they tried to burn me. I have so many more questions about what she can do. For something there’s so much fear mongering about, I really don’t know that much about witches.

Meanwhile, across the campfire, Astaroth snorts. “Don't have anything magic can heal, no.”

“You could’ve mended my pants while you were there,” Mephisto sniffs, lifting his leg and gesturing at the very conspicuous chunk missing. The ragged edges are coated in dried blood. “Look at the state of me!”

“We’ll get you new pants when we find a merchant who doesn't want to kill you,” Alecto says, then glances at me. “Where do you live, tiny?”

“Hm? Oh…” I gesture up at Beel, who’s still watching me worriedly. “With the dragons.”

“So the rumours did hold water after all,” Mephisto comments. “There really is a little girl communing with the sky-lizards.”

I look at him for a moment. There’s something almost calculating about his eyes; the sun is setting in earnest now, and in the dark they look more blue than purple. Briefly, his shadow seems to warp into otherworldly shapes on the grass behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” I say shortly. “And they’re not all sky-lizards. Beel doesn’t have wings.”

His eyebrows lift a little. After a moment, his expression softens. “...sorry. Well, we’ll be on our way after tonight. You could always go home now - you should really rest up.”

“No way. The forest’s dangerous,” I refute. “Beel and Belphie can protect us."

"...well, we'd better find something to do before bed." He digs around for a moment, then abruptly conjures a pack of cards from the front of his shirt. "Ever played old maid?"

It's only one night, I reason with myself as the dark creeps across the forest in earnest. They won't miss us too much. Unless Lucifer spots the ice sheet. Which he probably will, actually. But I think he'd actually explode if he realised what happened...

…this all feels weird. I feel like we’ve started something a lot bigger than this.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze?

Ok so I wanted to start posting my Soulmates AU for Raindrop month, but writing for my Medieval one is going waay better than planned and it's confusing me to have 2 separate backstories in my head at once, so while I still have *checks calendar* 5 DAYS, here's a little stand-alone ficlet!

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze? A Midwest Emo Ghouls AU ficlet

Rating: T Content: fluff, literally that's it just fluff Words: 615

Lots of love to @alwaysjustmina for organizing this month again this year, I love any excuse to write about our soggy boys!! 🌦️🖤

hello @revengeghoulette, here is your summons as promised!! 🫡

Read below, or on AO3!

Haymaking season was coming to an end, and Swiss, Mountain and all the ghouls who pitched in to help were looking forward to a well-deserved break. To celebrate the end of the season, Swiss had built a maze out of hay bales for the children and kits of the town, as well as some of the more enthusiastic adults.

The whole community had come together to put on a party at the ghouls' farm. Mountain and his colleagues from the hardware store had built fairground games, Dew had dragged the church's speakers down on a trailer and was playing records Mist had brought from her shop. Aurora's cafe had a small pop-up, and Cirrus had brought a vat of apple cider, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, for the younger guests. Cumulus was in her element, her little face-painting stall attracting such a sizeable queue that Sunshine had jumped in to help out. Phantom was taking his new role as Youth Pastor – and more recently Sunday School teacher – very seriously, replacing her in supervising a very intense game of tag. While Mountain minded the hay maze, Swiss was giving rides on the haycart he had hitched to the back of his tractor, driving the children and kits up and down the field in the warm afternoon sunshine.

After closing time, once the families had gone home, the ghouls had the place to themselves without getting in the way of the fun of the younger members of the community. Rain and Dew were the last ones left inside the maze. Aurora and Mist had quickly disappeared somewhere together, Sunny, Cirrus and Cumulus were deep into their mission of finishing off the cider now that their responsibilities were over, the three of them covered in rainbow paint and body glitter.

Dewdrop and Rain walked hand in hand through the maze, quietly drinking in each other’s company in the balmy evening air. Making it to the centre of the maze they sat down on a bale, surrounded by golden walls on all sides as the amber glow of sunset spread across the sky. Dew leaned his head on Rain’s shoulder, utterly content in the moment.

“It’s beautiful.” Rain commented, as they watched the play of colours around them. “Just like you.”

Dew turned his face to bury it in Rain’s neck, bashful.

“You are, and I’m so proud of you, taking over from Aeth like you did. You’re doing such a great job, love! Look at how the town and harvest are flourishing. I’m honoured to call you my husband.”

Never one to take compliments well, Dew redirected Rain’s affections by capturing his lips in a searing kiss. The pair lost themselves in each other, the cooling temperatures went unnoticed past the warmth of their bodies, the slight prickliness of the hay nothing compared to the soft slide of their lips.

By the time they came up for air, Dew having squirmed his way into Rain’s lap, the sky was glowing a deep russet colour. From outside the maze, they could hear the sounds of the others packing up to leave.

“Alright lovebirds, time to come out or I’ll send the dogs in!” they heard Swiss call. The pair only giggled, Rain placing feather-light kisses across Dew’s cheekbones while he blushed the colour of the sky.

“You don’t have a dog!” Dew hollered back as he struggled to hold in his giggles.

“Hi Dewy.” deadpanned Mountain.

Eventually, Dew and Rain managed to find their way out of the maze, neither wanting to be found and carried out by the giant earth ghoul.

“Nice straw hat, Rain.” smirked Swiss, “although normally you weave it into itself, not directly into your hair!”

[areyoudreaminof]

Sleepover House Rules

I was chatting with some friends and were talking about Nesta as an awesome aunt, so I wrote something real quick, specifically for @velidewrites, @xtaketwox, @thesistersarcheron, @popjunkie42-blog, @itsthedoodle, @the-lonelybarricade, and @c-e-d-dreamer

Update: you can read this on AO3 now!

Nesta swept into the river house without knocking. She didn’t need to anyways, she knew where she needed to go. Waving absently to the twins, she hiked her skirt up as she went up the stairs, following the carpeted hall to the little room where her nephew was playing. Nyx had his back turned while he played. A large tower of blocks and connecting parts stood in front of him as his wings twitched and flapped absently. Cassian’s wings did the same thing when he was bored. Nesta was going to rectify that.

She softly tapped on the door before Nyx turned around. Bright recognition melted his surprise away as he flung himself into Nesta’s arms. His feet rose off the floor as he flew to her.

“Aunt Nessa!” he hollered as he latched onto her with his arms and legs. Nesta held him back just as tight, softly rocking him back and forth before planting a kiss on his cheek. She loved his small little lisp and the way he couldn't quite say her name right. She secretly hoped he’d always call her Nessa. “What are you doing inside on this nice day?” she asked, as she set him down. 

“I’m playing with my new building set. Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien sent it to me from the Day Court.” he said as he held the small toy brick in front of her. “Mama is at class and Papa’s meeting with someone in his office, so I’m playing up here for a little bit. We went to the park this morning.” Nesta sat down on the rug to join him as he slowly scooted his tower forward. Nyx began to add more bricks and poles to the tower, so she began to latch the bricks on, taking great care not to tip anything over. 

“Well, Uncle Cass had to go to Illyria tonight, and Uncle Az is going to be off doing whatever it is he does. So, I thought we could have a sleepover at the House.” she said, knowing his answer already. Nyx gasped as he shot to his feet, his tower wobbling dangerously. 

“Yes! Can we go now?” Nyx’s blue eyes were lit from within, as he began to bounce on his toes. Nesta laughed as she rose to her feet, “If you pack we can go when you’re ready.” she said as she crossed to Nyx’s closet. 

Nesta and Nyx descended down the stairs hand in hand while she carried his small overnight bag. As they stepped down into the foyer, Feyre entered through the front door with a surprised look on her face. Nyx rushed over, hugging his mother around her waist, “Mama! I’m gonna have a sleepover with Aunt Nessa at the House, she said it was okay.” Nyx was breathless with excitement as Feyre threw her head back and laughed. “Well then, if Aunt Nesta said it was alright. Is it alright?” Feyre asked. Nesta nodded, “Cass is in Illyria, Azriel has to pick up some things in the city before he leaves, but he’ll fly us up. I thought we’d have a sleepover. You and Rhys could have some alone time.” 

Feyre nodded as she wrangled her excited boy, guiding him towards the living room. “Do you have everything you need Nyx?” The boy nodded firmly. “Yep. I got my pajamas, and an extra coat.” 

“What about your toothbrush?” 

“I got that too!” he protested, looking at Nesta for confirmation. “He has it. Even so, the House would give him an extra one if he forgot.” 

“Who’s got a toothbrush? Oh, hello Nesta. We weren’t expecting you.” Rhys said as he entered the living room, crossing to kiss Feyre. Nyx wiggled with impatience as he tolerated a hug from his father. “I’m taking Nyx for a sleepover tonight.” Nesta said. 

“Taking?” Rhys said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“That’s what I said. I’m giving you two some alone time. Be grateful.” Nesta replied with a smirk. Rhys chuckled as he pointed to the door, where Azriel entered, “I take it you don’t need a flight up?” Nesta shook her head, as she watched Nyx pounce on Azriel. “We’ll be fine.” 

“Alright then, but please Nyx, don’t eat sugar all night and go to bed at a reasonable hour please,” Rhys said as Nyx rolled his eyes and grumbled, as if he was fourteen and not four. “We’ll have some cookies and cake before bed, and we’ll turn in at 10, I think.” Nesta exclaimed as she met Rhy’s eye. “We have different rules at the House.” Feyre doubled over laughing as Rhys threw his hands up in surrender. 

The flight up to the House was something of a success, as Nyx held tightly to Azriel’s arm as he practiced his flying. An entire flight up was too hard for him just yet, but with some supervision from his father and uncles, Nyx could practice at higher altitudes. The flight up stopped being an issue for Nesta years ago. After depositing their bags inside, they hugged and waved Azriel off, watching his form fly south out of the valley. Nesta spun, placing her hands on her hips in mock authority. “So, what is on the itinerary tonight?” Nyx scratched his head thoughtfully, as his wings absently flapped in thought behind him. 

“We’re gonna build a fort and sleep in it! Then we can go down to the library and see Gwyn and get a book to read. Then we can eat dinner and cake on the lawn for a picnic.” he said with finality. “Can we eat fried chicken and cheese noodles?” 

“We certainly can. What kind of book are you thinking of?” 

“A scary one! I want a scary one this time. I won’t have nightmares, I promise.” Nesta nodded as she asked the House to provide an age appropriate book. “Well then, Nyxie let’s get going. We’ve got a fort to build!” 

The room that the House provided was littered in pillows and blankets. Nesta layered the thickest and softest blankets and pillows down for their bed, while Nyx set the sheets and fleece blankets over the chairs that were strewn around them for coverage. The House added small little fae lights inside their cavern and had deep fried chicken shaped like bats and cheese noodles waiting for them on the lawn. Nesta and Nyx watched the late summer sun set behind the mountains, the sky melting pinks and purples across the city. “It looks like lightning bugs from up here.” Nyx said as he gobbled down his chicken bats that he slathered in a thick white dipping sauce. “They do, don’t they?” Nesta said as she pointed to the multicolored lights by the river, “Do you see that? I think that’s The Rainbow!” Nyx gasped with excitement as more lights began to flicker through the valley. He then showed Nesta all the constellations and planets he knew, explaining that it was summer and the most planets were out. The soft breeze dropped in temperature, making Nesta rise from her spot on the lawn, rubbing her sore bottom and stretching. “Why don’t we go down and see if Gwyn is working and say hi. Then we can grab a book.” Nyx shot up and ran inside. 

In the library, Nyx and Nesta greeted Clotho, who produced a small caramel candy in gold foil for Nyx. They found Gwyn a level down, Nyx slowly creeping behind her as he flapped his wings, mussing her hair and papers. “Boo!” 

“Ah! I thought you were a ghost!” Gwyn said as she gave Nyx a bear hug, “What are you doing here?” 

“Sleeping over at the House with Aunt Nessa. We’re getting a scary book to read in our fort! We built it, it’s really neat!” Nyx exclaimed. Gwyn giggled, “I’ll bet it is! You’re a master builder, Nyx.” 

 Nyx nodded with agreement before he turned to the shelves. “Is Em’rie here, too?” he asked. 

“No, she’s in Illyria with Uncle Cass.” Nesta said, “They’ll be back tomorrow.” As Nyx searched the shelves, Gwyn produced a small leatherbound book from her cart. “I take it this is what you’re looking for? It’s scary stories for children. Nothing too terrifying, just lots of ghosts” Nesta nodded as she flipped through the volume, assessing the strange illustrations that looked like water and smoke. “It’ll have to do. What time are you off? You should come up and join us.” Nesta said as she slipped the small book onto a nearby shelf within Nyx’s eyeline. 

“Thanks, but I’m working on a project for Az and I’ll be up too late.” Gwyn sighed as she motioned toward the cart piled high with papers and books. “Come up for breakfast then, if you’re up.” Nesta insisted as they watched Nyx snatch the carefully placed book from where Nesta had placed it. “Ooohhhh, I found a good one!” Nyx said triumphantly as he held the book up, “I want this one.” They said their goodbyes to Gwyn before they returned to the fort. Nestled into pajamas, Nesta read two ghost stories and one vampire story to Nyx, before she announced it was time for dessert. The stories weren't terribly scary, but the illustrations were a bit frightening. The House left two slices of chocolate cheesecake and milk on the small table in the fort room, and Nyx devoured his slice in what felt like a breath. The small clock in the hall chimed ten times, making Nesta realize how late it was. Crawling into their fort, Nyx insisted he wasn’t tired at all. But as Nesta rubbed his arms, the boy’s eyelids drooped. 

“Good night Nyx, I love you.” Nesta said, giving her nephew one last kiss. 

“Love you too, Aunt Nessa.” he slurred as sleep took him. With Nyx’s small hand in hers, Nesta drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. 

Nyx and Nesta met the morning over the table, as Nyx devoured scrambled eggs and pancakes swimming in syrup. Nesta sipped her tea absently. The fort had felt comfortable when she fell asleep, but the crick in her lower back confirmed that maybe sleeping on the floor wasn’t her best idea. 

The dining room door swung open, as Cassian, wind chapped and smiling, bounded over to Nyx. “I didn’t know we had a guest!” he said as he kissed Nyx’s head and ruffled his hair. “Yep! Me and Aunt Nessa had a picnic and made a fort and read some scary stories. Sorry you missed it, Uncle Cass.” Nyx exclaimed as he turned back to his food. Nesta rose and greeted her mate, who smelled like morning fog and cedar. “You made a fort? Where?” Cassian asked with excitement. “Upstairs. It’s actually quite nice. Though I think next time we’ll drag a mattress in there.” Nesta said as she rubbed her lower back. Cassian turned to Nyx, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Hey Nyx, what do you say about spending the night again tonight?

[syrcus]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Prompt 5: Stamp

Non-WoL OC. Set during Shadowbringers, spoilers for 5.0 story. Either the beginning or middle of the Thancred/Denh ship depending on how hard you squint at it. 1562 words ao3 link

The arrival of the Warrior of Light is rarely a quiet affair.      The Rising Stones' main door slams, their voice bounces seemingly without end off the stone walls, amplifying itself. Denh ignores them. After all, she has a job to do, though it may drain and vex her. Whatever business brings Quoye Mhoros to Mor Dhona can remain their own, as far as she's concerned.

     She retains her focus with intent, channelling aether from the environment around her, into the pit of her heart, turning it over and allowing it to flow down through her arms and to the hand she holds. Her fingers tingle with the warmth of it, and perhaps a little with inactivity, but over the past weeks this particular aetheric manipulation has become a speciality of hers. How many days has she spent, lately, sitting in this chair immobile, doing naught but preserving the empty husks of the people she loves?

     Her gaze glides over her current charge, a knot gathering in her core.  Thancred was once one of her closest friends, almost more, and yet.  And yet, in recent years she has avoided him, treated him with pointed indifference whenever their paths were forced to cross.  She has been cold, she has been immovable, and now that he's gone it shames her.

     "Denh!" Even through the thick wooden door of Dawn's Respite, Quoye's distinctive holler is barely muffled. "Anyone seen Denh? Somebody point me at- Oh, is she? Should've known." And with that, the door bursts open, and the Warrior of Light through it. Denh's breath leaves her in a weary sigh. She doesn't look at them, or even otherwise acknowledge them; she keeps her eyes on Thancred, committing his face carefully to memory. Even the most minor change could bode ill for him, in this state.      Were his eyes always so sunken? she wonders. Is this a worrying sign, or did I simply fail to notice? Gods, when is the last time I truly looked at him? Nobody had expected this, of course. She could never have been expected to know, all those years she spent angry and hurt, how easily the people she loved could be taken from her. She'd thought she had more time.

     Quoye's footsteps echo against the walls, quick and excited, far too upbeat for a room like this. The candle on the dresser by Thancred's cot sputters, flickering in the disturbed air as the Warrior of Light draws to a stop beside her.

     "Hi Denh," they chirp, sounding altogether too pleased with themself. Quoye's energy is infuriating at the best of times, even moreso now. She sets Thancred's hand down atop his chest and turns to them.

     "What do you want, Quoye." What are her odds, she wonders, of successfully setting them on fire? She'd never let it show, of course, but she's considered the question more and more often of late: Hydaelyn's Blessing may protect them from primal influence, they may have bested some of the world's strongest in combat, but surely a fireball to the face would take down even this vaunted hero? Some hero, anyway. What good have they done for Thancred and Shtola and the twins?      Quoye grins impishly back at her and laughs, bright and clear, blissfully unaware of the resentment Denh holds for them. Too bright for a room filled with such stagnant misery.

     "I've got something for you," they reply, in quite possibly the most aggravating singsong tone Denh has ever heard, brandishing a sheet of carefully folded paper and wiggling it above her head. "I think you'll like it." She considers snatching it, but Quoye is considerably taller than she is and could easily pull it from arms reach - which, she realises, is likely exactly what they're hoping for. She squares her shoulders and fixes Quoye with a level gaze. She will not embarrass herself for their amusement.  They can give her the note or not, it makes little difference.

     "Then hand it over and be on your way." She keeps her tone brusque, matter-of-fact, and for added effect extends an open hand. The intent is clear; put it in my hand and get lost. Quoye blinks a couple of times, perhaps surprised she didn't rise to their bait. Her tail flicks with irritation. "Now, Quoye. As you can see, I am busy and I am tired."      Hearing herself speak, she sounds tired. More than she'd expected. When is the last time she held a conversation that wasn't just a brief exchange, updating Krile on the vital signs of her closest friends? Quoye visibly deflates, apparently realising, at last, that this is neither the time nor the place for such gleeful behaviour. What thoughts exist in that empty skull? Denh finds herself thinking.

     Quoye sighs, looking vaguely ashamed, and places the note on a nearby table. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking, see… Everyone's fine, Denh. I was just talking to 'em all and they're fine, so I didn't…" They speak quickly, rubbing awkwardly at the back of their neck as they do. They look around at the lifeless Scions, their ears a little more lowered than usual. "Anyway. You'll want to read that soonish, I've gotta get back and he didn't say as much but I reckon he was mayhaps hoping for a reply- Not to rush you!" They wince. "Slightly to rush you, 'cause like I say I can't loiter long. I'll be out front. Sorry."      And they leave as quickly as they came.

     Alone again, or as alone as one can be in a room filled with empty bodies, Denh regrounds herself. She tries to ignore the note on the table, retrains her focus on Thancred; poor Thancred, sickly and grey in the candlelight. She breathes in deep, closes her eyes, drawing the aether back around her ready for use as she has done so many times.  It's delicate work, sustaining someone's corporeal form without them inside it, with little margin for error, but in recent weeks it has become as natural to her as breathing.      Today, though, when she reopens her eyes, they float unbidden back to that note on the table, and the aether she's so carefully collected fizzles and dissipates.  She tries to draw it back, but the unknown hangs in her mind like a bad omen.  Quoye hadn't mentioned the sender by name; had she imagined it, or had their gaze lingered on Thancred when they'd said 'he' was hoping for a response?  She quickly shakes that thought free.  Hope helps nobody, she learned that one young.  Hope leads to disappointment, hope lets one down.      That settles it.  I have to read that hells-damned letter.

     "Sorry, Thancred," she says quietly, almost a whisper.  "I shan't be away long."      She leaves the room in a few determined paces, grabbing the note and stuffing it into her shirt for safekeeping on her way out.  She passes Krile in the main foyer, hurriedly asks her to take over aether-sustaining duty for a little while without giving any excuse for her own abandonment of it, and skitters off up the stairs.      The dormitory hallway has never felt so long, nor had she ever realised before just how far down it her own room lies.  Try as she might to keep it away, by the time she reaches her door a small, irritating hope has settled in her chest.      She locks the door behind herself, and only once that's done does she pull the paper from her shirt and really look at it.

It's folded neatly, carefully, though now slightly crumpled.  A small drop of wax seals it closed, pressed flat with what looks, from the imprint, to be a one gil coin.  She flips it over, and sees her own name handwritten across the front in spindly, vigorous cursive.  Her breath catches.  That is, without a doubt, Thancred's handwriting.      She sinks to the floor, picking free the wax seal absentmindedly.  What could possibly be so important for Thancred to write to her from across the void, and send the hero of the realm to deliver it?        Perhaps he can offer some insight on his, and the others', condition.

     She unfolds the letter.

          Denh, Truth be told, I am not wholly sure you will welcome this correspondence.  You were, if I recall, not entirely pleased with me when last we spoke.  Would you believe me if I were to tell you that it feels like a lifetime ago? In some ways, I suppose it has been.  I have had more time to think since my... "collapse" than one may imagine, and it is my - perhaps vain - hope that you might wish to become acquainted with the man I have found myself to be. I am deeply sorry.  For all I've had you endure. If you are not averse, I should very much like to hear back!  How are things at the Rising Stones?           Sincerely,           Thancred. p.s.  You may wish to employ a wax seal of your own, should you choose to reply.  Quoye showed an unnerving degree of interest in the contents of this letter when I asked them to deliver it.

     A lone droplet of water lands upon the page as she reads the last line, smudging the ink.  Another quickly follows it.  She blinks, brings a hand to her eyes, and is almost surprised to find that she's begun to cry.