#happy trails caravan

[kuzmich-isterich]

The path we're following are slow going, so you might as well keep your ears open and listen to what old Jed has to say...

music: Heilung - Traust

[korivv]

you come back, another day

and do no wrong

[rocket-69]

Ramshackle: 02 - Delivery

Vincent Taylor-Chryslus leaned over the paddock as he watched his sister Sabine walking a very pregnant mare in circles. She stood tall and dark, holding her lead while the chestnut mare plodded on the sand. The Taylor-Chryslus Ranch bred for speed and endurance over looks- their star mares produced primarily blacks, bays, and chestnuts almost exclusively, but they were always strong and healthy. Vincent adjusted his lean, shifting his weight off of his forearm. A ranch hand passed him holding a bucket with their own lead coiled around their arm.

“Oilrag is out, Vince.”

He stood straight and pulled a folded rag stained with black smears, and quickly slid it into an inner pocket on his leather jacket.

“Th-thanks.” He looked from side to side, then turned back. “What time is it?”

The ranch hand squinted at the sky. “Guess it’s about two. You picking up a new shipment?”

Vincent nodded, checking his windup pocket watch to confirm. It was about ten til two-thirty.

He approached his Cherry Bomb’s stall, and whistled a tune to her. A chestnut herself with a small star, her only unique features were a pair of long white stockings past the knee on her back legs. She pressed her forehead into his chest and huffed.

“Hi there, girl. Let’s go into town.” He held her head as he brought the bridle up, pressing the bit into her mouth. Cherry Bomb kept her teeth shut, as he pressed in more. “Don’t make me stick my thumb in your mouth, girl.” Vincent was exactly as gentle as he had to be with her, which meant he only elbowed her gut once in the whole tacking process. Cherry Bomb was also gentle with him and let him hitch the cart to her with a similar patience, only nipping at him without making contact. He lightly punched her shoulder for it.

He walked back to the paddock and yelled to Sabine. “Need anything? I’m going out.”

Sabine turned to look at him, standing with a regal posture while her ponytailed braids swung against her shoulder in one motion. “Where’re you going?”

“Receiving.”

Whatever curiosity was in Sabine’s eyes faded. “Eh.”

“No complaining then when I get home. I asked.”

“Mmh.” Sabine turned back to the mare.

Vincent vaulted onto the mini wagon, a one-seater with a salvaged plywood flatbed for the crates he was picking up. Ramshackle’s largest business had multiple wagons, of different sizes for different reasons. Normally, getting the mail wasn’t a wagon job, but it just happened there was a shipment of new halters waiting in the post office for the Taylor-Chryslus Ranch. And a package for Vincent himself. Probably.

Cherry Bomb trotted along the route, energetic as she headed out of the Ranch. Vincent nudged her along, though she knew the route well; Vincent picked up lots of shipments.

The Happy Trails Caravan Company knew Vincent by name. He rode up on his flat wagon as the caravaners unloaded- bulk goods for the general store, mainly. Some specialist goods for a “Theo Katz” and a Scribe Dufort, who was late. But specialist goods for a Vincent Taylor as well.

A tall man in overalls saluted Vincent, and went behind the wagons. He secured Cherry Bomb and followed along.

“I’ve seen you ‘round when we come through here. Vince, right?”

Vincent nodded. “Vince works”

The tall man pushed his outer lip out in thought. “Got your order here- corn ethanol. Sourced out the Central Valley west of Shady Sands. Fee due on arrival.”

“As always.” Vincent counted the canisters. Everything from his last shipment was here. He felt his nerves prickle as they matched his order. He nodded and excused himself, just a second.

Vincent felt his joints turn to jelly. He stepped up to Cherry Bomb, leaning on her for a quick second to catch his breath. As much as they have a back and forth like theirs, she could tell when he was antsy. She let him press into her for a few breaths, then dug with her front hoof impatiently. Vincent came back to the present, still floating on the clouds as he dug into his saddlebag and pulled cords out. Ten, twenty, thirty- one, two, three cords of ten. He slung more cords and full loops* over his shoulder as he walked back to his order.

Vincent rubbed the key in his pocket like a talisman. The caravaneer asked if that was everything, and he was so distant he almost said yes.

“Y-no. The Taylor-Chryslus Ranch also has a shipment. Halters I think.”

“Taylor-Chryslus, Taylor-Chryslus…”

Vincent’s expression flattened. “Should be the next one, right? I’m gonna need help with these.”

“Yeah we can get one of our boys to help you with that.” The caravaneer waved one of his cohorts over; they curled around the packages like a river carving a boxy canyon, picking up shipments and leaving them on the shore. They stood tall and broad when they weren’t squeezing between boxes.

They nodded down to Vincent as he took a finger down the first caravaneer’s clipboard, to show them the order. “Taylor-Chryslus Ranch. Should be a big box of halters.”

“Oh, I know that one. Where d’you want ‘em?”

“My girl Cherry Bomb has the cart.” Vincent pointed behind him. The caravaneer’s gaze followed his hand to her, and nodded once. They turned away to find the boxes, giving Vincent a moment to start loading the cart himself.

Ethanol. Ethanol.

His hands trembled. He put down the canister, then shook his hands out like a bird fluffing his wings.

-----

*A cord is ten caps, strung on a string. A loop is one hundred caps, a longer string with the ends tied together to facilitate easy carrying.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

NIGHTS AT THE WRANGLER — A DRABBLE

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Courier!Fem!Reader

WC: 1.4k words

Summary: A little fluffy ficlet/drabble of Courier!Reader and Cooper after he started working as an escort at the Atomic Wrangler <33

Warnings: fluff!!!, flirty cooper, some lovey dovey smut, escort!cooper, based on my inability to understand and play Caravan lmao, budding romance

————-

Nights in the Mojave desert were sweltering and long, but you were able to find some reprieve in one of the small, sparingly decorated rooms at the Atomic Wrangler.

Good company and some drinks certainly helped alleviate your mood as well, despite the additional heat generated. The room was in disarray in the aftermath, but that had been inevitable all along.

The bed sheets had been kicked away and were now bunched up beneath your bare figure. A window was open, though no breeze blew in. A dingy old radio was playing a country song that you found yourself humming along to. Cooper’s hat was perched sideways on your head, lest the wide brim slide down over your eyes.

You and him lay parallel on the bed, facing each other. He was trying to teach you how to play Caravan, but you were still not entirely getting the hang of it. There were a few caps tossed between you to make things interesting, but he’d been the only one collecting the past few rounds.

“This is impossible,” you muttered, staring at your piles of cards.

He laughed. “Darlin’, I’m really startin’ to think you’re hopeless.”

“There’s just so much to take into consideration! And I have so many fucking cards…”

“Don’t get all worked up now,” he said, adding a card to one of his stacks. “At least, not like that.”

You shared a brief look with him before you rolled your eyes, a little smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I thought you said you didn’t do seconds,” you said casually, pretending to look through your own cards.

“I can make an exception here and there,” he said. “After all, you did say I get to choose my clientele. Means I can also choose what I give or don’t give ‘em.”

“I’m sensing some subliminal messaging here.”

He let out an amused grunt. “Oh, you and I both know I don’t need to persuade you into anythin’.”

You hummed noncommittally, not wanting to outright admit he was right. You propped your chin on your hand and observed him for a moment.

“How has it been, by the way?” You asked. “You adapting to this line of work well?”

“It’s been just peachy, the Garretts are real happy with our arrangement,” he said. “Nothin’ to complain about, really, and it ain’t like I’m tied to this place anyway. Nights like this one are always a plus, too.”

“Aw shucks.” You grinned, adjusting his hat on your head. “I am pretty fun, aren’t I?”

“Well, beating you at Caravan sure is fun,” he teased, making you playfully punch his arm.

He grasped your arm and pulled you closer, your torso sliding over the cards and effectively ruining the match. You didn’t mind, especially not as he dipped down to kiss you. His hat slid off your head unceremoniously, falling off the side of the bed.

His tongue dragging against yours brought your earlier activities back to the forefront of your mind and a small, pleasured hum escaped your throat.

He pulled back to look at you, and by the glazed look in his eyes, you could tell he was just as affected. You hummed thoughtfully, reaching up to cup his face gently.

“You’re going sweet on me, aren’t you?” You teased, your fingertips lightly tracing his skin.

“That’s what you think, huh?” He said, one of his calloused hands slowly trailing up your abdomen.

“Far as I can tell,” you countered. “And I’ve been told I’m very perceptive.”

“Hmm…”

His hand passed over your sternum, moving to caress one of your breasts in an intimately casual way. As if he’d been familiar with your body longer than just a handful of nights.

And of course, it responded to his touch, like he knew it would. His grin was lopsided, a slightly smug yet mischievous edge to it.

“Well, as it turns out, I’m pretty perceptive myself,” he rasped, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

Your back arched, a small spasm jolting through you as an edge of pain mingled with pleasure. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re just trying to empty my pockets, aren’t you?” You said, breath hitching as you watched him lick his fingers before they resumed their teasing. “Getting me all worked up like this.”

“What makes you say that, sweetheart?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to one side. “I think you just can’t seem to resist me, is all… Why else would you be mewlin’ like that?”

“Oh, I think y-you know why,” you breathed as he leaned down once more, his lips enticingly ghosting over yours. “But I’d argue you can’t resist me either.”

He chuckled a little, moving to your jaw and then your neck, nearly giving you away and making you shudder against him.

“I do like this pussy of yours, I’ll give ya that,” he husked, his hot breath in your ear as he nipped the lobe with his teeth.

As if to emphasize his point, his hand trailed down to where you were aching once more. Palm cupping your already sensitive cunt, which was undeniably wet once again. You couldn’t help a little gasp — perhaps a wordless plea for mercy he wouldn’t heed. Any resolve you had crumbled underneath his nearly expert ministrations, the teasing becoming unbearable.

“Fuck. I-I want you, Cooper. I just…please?” You panted wantonly, the slight humiliation that came with your begging only getting you wetter. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Maybe so.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “C’mere, I wanna see how pretty you look on top of me.”

He shifted to lie on his back, your mind spinning for a moment as his warmth left you nearly shaking with barely contained desire. Damn he was good. He knew your tells quite well, which buttons to push, where to pinch or prod or caress to elicit different noises. And you were like a bonfire that he set aflame.

You crawled atop him, panther-like, your chest sliding over his. His hips bucked as you reached down to grip his erection, lightly stroking the sensitive head as you kept eye contact with him. You bent down and kissed the corner of his mouth, lightly swiping your tongue over his bottom lip.

His mouth slackened as you lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it, the movement made easy by your wetness. His hands grasped your hips tightly as you rested your palms on his chest. You let out a breathy moan as you readjusted the position of your legs. Your hips began gyrating slowly, teasingly, gauging more of his reactions in turn.

“Pretty as a picture,” he rasped as you pulled back, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher in his eyes as he looked over you.

You grinned. “Not so bad yourself, cowboy. How’s it feel being ridden for once?”

He chuckled. “Don’t get too smug now, or I’ll have to break ya like a wild bronco.”

You hummed, taking those words as a challenge. His hands aided you as you went faster, finding a rhythm that had you both groaning. One of his hands came to rest on your sternum, wanting to feel your rapid heartbeat. For a moment, you held onto his wrist, head tilting back as you lost yourself to the feeling of him deep inside you.

You heard him murmuring your name, as well as praises of you good you felt. You found an angle where your clit dragged against his pubic mound with each thrust, and soon you were nearing the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed, focusing on all other sensations. Sensing your mounting pleasure, he helped you along. He pulled your hips down to grind against him, his hips canting up.

“O-oh…” was all you could breathe, shuddering piteously, brows furrowed.

And suddenly, without warning, your orgasm spiraled upwards and spread through you. Your legs pressed against his sides as your body tensed. He held you aloft through it, a low groan in his throat as he felt you clench down on him repeatedly. You fell against him once more with a dopey little giggle, his arms encircling you.

“Damn… I’ll never get tired of this,” you said, feeling him chuckle against you.

“All it took to get you going was beating you at Caravan,” he said teasingly, one of his hands trailing up and down your back. “I can work with that.”

You pulled back to frown at him. “You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

“It’s ‘cus you like it, sweetheart.”

————

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 43: Into the Unknown

you know that genre of like mildly spooky and sad and ethereal music with birds chirping in the background?

that's what I imagine playing in Ace's head throughout this scene. our poor gal has really just been through it.

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 43: Into the Unknown

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 43/? WC: 115,752 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, canon-typical violence Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

It's a half-day's drive to the airfield. Cap says rendezvous time is sunrise. 

You check your watch -- less than two hours out. 

You're operating yet another vehicle. This one is old. A Jeep, of course. A giant, scrappy hunk of metal nobody else wanted to drive. You, though, were more than happy to oblige. That is, until you remembered the last time you were behind the wheel of one of these fucking things. 

Until you saw the way your left hand clutched said wheel, knuckles stark against the rest of your hand. 

You went back in time. Back to Simon barking orders. To a searing pain near your wrist. The stench of undead, unwashed, unreal bodies throwing themselves at you, all mindlessly desperate for a taste. 

You steal glances at your forearm every now and again -- the smooth, slightly paler shade of your scars all that's left. It doesn't hurt. Doesn't so much as twinge. But the skin there is slightly cooler. Softer. Newer. 

Marked. 

Soap joins you in the front seat, Simon in the back. 

You could cut the tension with a knife if you had one, but they're all packed. 

You cracked the windows a little early on, just to get some air circulating. 

It's cold. Biting. You've no idea the actual date, but you'd guess it's close to the end of November. 

Winter is knocking.

The three of you haven't really had a chance to revisit your conversation from the other day, and Soap hasn't indicated that his thinking about it has amounted to any sort of decision. 

Not that you've had much time to process or think about it yourself. Between hauling boxes of supplies to and from the caravan, paring down your belongings to the barest and easiest to carry essentials, and tearfully saying goodbye to the most sentimental corners of the estate -- it's been a busy few days. 

Cap, Gary, and Gaz are in the truck ahead of you, navigating. Farah, Alex, and the Los Vaqueros boys trail behind you in a Jeep twin to yours. 

The cars are loud. Cutting through the early morning silence with guttural, cacophonous growls. The noise irritates you. The stench of gasoline irritates you. 

Everything irritates you. 

You're tired. Exhausted, really. Devastated. Melancholic. Anxious. 

And still fucking bleeding. 

As if on cue, your abdomen seizes in a tight, sharp jolt of pain, spreading slowly as the cramp works its way through your muscles, bearing down on your lower body. 

You only managed to procure a pitiful supply of rags before your departure. At this rate, you'll bleed through them before you even get to Boston. 

You glance to your right to find Soap watching you. 

You chalk a brow. "What?" you mouth. 

He gives you a pointed once-over with his eyes and raises a brow of his own. A silent appraisal. And question. 

"I'm fine."

He pushes his lips out, pursing them as if to say, "I don't believe you."

You roll your eyes and turn back to face the road. It's an old highway. You can't tell if you've driven it before -- they all sort of look the same. Cracked asphalt splitting grassy, overgrown hills. Abandoned cars flanking either end. 

Bones littered about. 

Not a lot -- most bodies turn into monsters, after all. But, some. 

Enough. 

Enough to chill your own bones. Enough to haunt you.

Aine's face floats through your mind, mangled and terrified. Missing eye. Missing teeth. Scalp half gone.  

Brains on the floor. Gaz's pained, angry face. 

Sometimes in your dreams, it's his eye that's missing. His brains on the floor. Or Simon's. Soap's. Farah's. Even the Captain's. 

"Ace," Simon's voice cuts through the roar of the engines, the roar of your thoughts. 

You blink and lock eyes with him in the rearview mirror. They're soft. Warm and open. Concerned.

"What?"

"We're stopping."

You see the lights then -- bright and crimson. Hear the squeal of long-disused brakes. 

"Oh."

You slow down, shifting into first and then neutral, parking right behind Cap's truck. 

You grimace as you disembark, the feeling of the blood leaving your body finally succumbing to gravity sending a shiver of disgust through you. You slam the door shut with a dull thud.

The immediate warmth of Soap at your side draws your gaze to his. 

"I'm fine, Soap," you insist, voice low. Your breath clouds in front of you. 

His fingers brush yours. "Y'sure?"

"I'm sure," you murmur, the intimacy of the question -- the gesture -- momentarily stunning you. 

Simon's head appears above Soap's, scanning the area behind you, his face illuminated faintly by headlights. You turn to see what he sees. 

A giant field. Massive. Easily the size of a few football stadiums. And flatter than most places you've seen in your limited experience in the Scottish countryside. 

"We're in England," Simon observes. 

"Where?"

"Dunno for sure. South of Manchester at least."

"How do you figure?"

He shrugs. "'Cause we've been driving since yesterday."

"Oh."

"Alright, lads," Cap says, walking over to the group, squinting against the beams of light, Gary and Gaz at his back. "Ladies. We've got about an hour or so before the boys from America birdie in. We'll lift off from here and take a plane out of Dublin."

"How long is the flight to Boston?" you find yourself asking quietly. Almost shy. You don't know where that's coming from. The shyness. But it seems to be infiltrating you. Like you're reverting. Like the separation from what you've grown attached to has ripped away the last eight months. Like the memories you've made are stored there rather than in your own head. 

Soap's fingers brush yours again, but this time he hooks your index finger with his. A gentle anchor. 

Cap's answering look is sharp. Penetrating. All business. "Seven hours give or take," he answers gruffly. 

The team begins to unload the supplies as a soft, frigid mist descends, coating the ground in a layer of moisture.

You help as best you can, though with so many doers around, you wind up mostly supervising. Boxes and bags of clothing and food and artillery -- even Doc's viral sample -- all stacked in towers against the wheels of each truck, until they're taller than the vehicles themselves. 

It makes you sad that you'll just abandon them here. 

Like all the cars along the highway. 

Like you left the house. A woebegone prison, of sorts. A container for your memories. A solitary film projector. Cursed to replay your spools of Super 8 over and over and over, infinitely, for an audience of none. 

You stare at the Jeep. At the space where its tires meet the grass. You absently run a finger along its scuffed metal surface.

Discarded carcasses. Relics of the past. Victims to time and circumstance, as much as any of the rest of you.

How sad it must be to have no ability to move oneself. How lonely to be trapped where you're left. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #15 - Achieve

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #15 - You Pick - Achieve

Note: Part 2 of this story. Basically, what Briar does with the sheep his pup brought home!

When Briar woke up, he had almost forgotten the five strange sheep Jack had brought home the night before, literally into his kitchen. It had taken quite a bit of time to clean up. Tired, muddy sheep made quite a bit of mess, especially when they took to shoving their cute little snouts into everything. And Briar still had no idea where they even came from! Sheep weren't exactly overly common in the Black Shroud.

The morning chores were done fairly quickly at this time of year. The half-Elezen let the chickens out to forage, gathering the few eggs without surprise. This late in the year, the hens were mostly not laying. The sheep were next with each ewe checked and a bit of grain given before they were allowed to waddle out into the pasture. Ajax, the little ram, bounced after them, happy to stand guard over his little herd. The garden was checked and a few vegetables were gathered before Briar confronted the problem of the 'stranger sheep'.

So an hour after waking up, Briar was standing with his hands on his hips outside the fence. Beside him, Jack was sitting in the grass, short tail thumping against the ground as he grinned up at his master.

"So what were you trying to achieve?" Briar grumbled a little to Jack, reaching down to scratch the pup's ears. He wasn't actually upset with the dog. Jack knew that he was supposed to bring loose sheep home. Briar didn't expect the sheepdog to understand the difference between his sheep and other sheep, at least not at the moment.

With a sigh, Briar went to the shed to gather some hay to toss to the five yearling lambs who were wandering toward the fence, bleating at the half-Elezen. They were more skittish than his own sheep, but eventually, he managed a few gentle pets. There was one ram and four ewes, which made Briar wonder if someone's new herd of sheep had been stolen by his eager little sheepdog pup.

"I really do need to work on your training," he murmured to Jack, shaking his head. "But for now, I need to find out who these belong to…"

So Briar ate a quick, cold breakfast of bread and fruit before getting dressed properly for travel. Whistling for Jack, he sighed and headed toward the path, assuming Jack had taken the sheep along it. The hoofprints made it likely and he started to follow it back. Sheep weren't exactly subtle creatures so their trail was quite obvious. "You couldn't have come too far, right?" he asked Jack, who answered with a woof and a doggy smile.

Shaking his head, Briar continued, finding the main road that wove its way from Buscarron's Druthers toward Quarrymill. He ended up heading south, ears working cautiously. The roads were patrolled by Wood Wailers, but in Briar's mind, they were little better than the worst of bandits. So he occasionally squeezed his staff nervously, green eyes darting to look for signs of trouble or where the sheep had come from.

Near midday, Briar found a caravan that looked Ul'dahn in design. It was busy with several Highlanders, Hyur, and Lalafell working. One standing to the side with crossed arms seemed to be directing the others and happened to glance up the road to see the slim half-Elezen with the dog at his heels.

"You!" the Lalafell bellowed, surprisingly loud as he marched directly at Briar.

Briar halted, eyes wide as he stared for a moment. "S-sir? I don't--"

"Where are my sheep, you mangy cur?" the Lalafell demanded, pointing a finger at Jack as if he expected the dog to answer. "Thief!"

Briar flinched and looked at the sheepdog hiding behind his legs. "Sir? S-sir!" he managed louder, finally getting the fuming Lalafell's attention. "I'm s-sorry, but he brought them to me. They're f-fine and fed. No harm came to them."

"Then where are they?!" the Lalafell demanded, hands on his hips as he glared up at Briar. "Why didn't you bring them back?!"

Briar blinked, realizing that perhaps he should have brought the herd with him, but he'd been more focused on the mystery than anything else. "I w-was not sure what had happened so I was trying to--"

The Lalafell scoffed loudly. "They were clearly stolen! You want to keep them for yourself! Probably trained that dog to do it!"

Briar blinked, brow furrowing in confusion and perhaps a little offence. "I am n-not a thief," he said with a frown. "If I w-was, I would not have told you I had them."

The Lalafell bristled, pointing angrily at Briar. "You need to pay for them!"

"Pay for your sheep?" Briar echoed. "W-why? I can just go get them…"

The caravan master shook his head, hands on his hips. "No time! We have to get moving and we're already late! Plus, you might never come back."

"I would come back," Briar said, stiffening. "If I say I w-will do something, I do it."

"Even if that were true," the Lalafell said, clearly not believing Briar, but more worried about his schedule than a handful of sheep. "I don't have the time for such nonsense. I demand you pay or I'll inform the Wood Wailers."

Briar grimaced and flinched a little at the idea. The Wood Wailers had little use for those not born in the city, and even less for a half-breed. He did not wish to deal with them because most would just assume he was, in fact, a thief without even hearing him. A helpless frustration filled him and he sighed. "How much?"

When the Lalafell named a price that was far too high, Briar stared at him for a few moments and then shook his head. "No." While he was not very good at haggling, he knew what his sheep sold for and it was not even half of what the man was demanding.

"…No?" the Lalafell sputtered, clearly not expecting the quiet, firm refusal.

"N-no," Briar repeated. "That is not a f-fair price."

"How dare--"

"No," Briar said stubbornly again, in contrast with white-gripped knuckles. "If that is the price, I will return them. I w-will not pay that."

The Lalafell sputtered angrily but shut up as Briar lifted his chin. "I will go now and b-bring them to the Wood Wailers. You can talk to them to return if you wish," the half-Elezen said quietly.

The caravan master clenched his jaw and stomped his foot in annoyance. "I have no time for that! You--" He glared at Briar, who quivered a bit with nerves but stood his ground otherwise. The Lalafell glanced at the nearly packed caravan and muttered a curse. "Fine!" he half-shouted, naming a price that was less than half. "That's what I paid. That's what I want."

Briar stared at the Lalafell for a few moments before nodding. "V-very well," he said quietly, digging into the pouch at his waist. He was glad he often kept some coin with him when he travelled, just in case. The half-Elezen passed the Lalafell the demanded coin, who seemed irritated Briar had it at hand.

"Likely you meant to keep them the whole time," the Lalafell grumbled in frustration, but a quick count showed the coins were there. "Feh! Better to not have to deal with the stupid creatures anyway. Now, go away. And take that mutt with you."

Briar watched as the Lalafell stomped back to his caravan, breathing out a shaky breath as he turned and headed back home. He had only gotten a few steps when he froze and then glared down at Jack. "….Did you just somehow get me to buy more sheep?!"

Jack just grinned, tongue out and backside wagging as he pranced beside Briar. If Briar didn't know any better, he would say the dog was quite pleased with the outcome and the new sheep.

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 19

Happy valentine's day, nerds.

Beca

All in all it hadn’t been the worst first meeting of the parents. At least. She didn't think it went that badly. Beca didn't really have anything to compare it to since there had never been anyone in her life to warrant a meeting of the folks before now.

She had learned a few things from them, however. Important things that had eased her mind being in the heart of a vampire stronghold.

The first being that every vampire there had defied the council in some way to protect or hide werefolk, humans, and fae to escape the Blood Guard. That counted for a lot in her book and forced her to change the way she was viewing vampires in general. Not that she truly trusted any of them besides Chloe and Aubrey but they had a stake in this fight for their own freedom.

All of them were as good as dead if the Council were to find them now. The necromancer pondered this as she turned on the shower to a deliciously warm spray and stepped under it. She sighed as she considered everything else she had heard too.

They would be safe there but only for a time. The blood guard would track them down eventually and all those vampires were now just sitting targets. Einar promised that every last one would fight for their lives but would they fight for hers?

Beca didn't think so. It wasn’t anything against them really. They didn't know her, and they were scared of what she could do to them. What she had done to them already. It weighed heavily on her as she lathered her hair and worked out the grit, sweat, and dried blood.

It didn't hurt. The necromancer frowned and gingerly touched all over her scalp but she couldn’t find any wounds that had occurred during her struggle with Billy Bob Pimp. Or the blast in the crypt. Her fingers trailed down her neck to brush over the delicate marks where Chloe had sunk fangs into her. There was no scabbing, only the smooth, slightly raised skin of scar tissue.

The brush of her fingertips over the bite marks caused a rush of heat to burn its way from her neck to parts decidedly lower and she had to inhale quickly to stifle the moan before it could slip past her lips.

Beca leaned against the cool tiled wall and focused on breathing. That was new. Not exactly unpleasant newness, but definitely unexpected. When she was sure her knees wouldn't buckle under her, she pushed off the wall and hurried through the rest of her shower looking for wounds that had already healed to unmarred flesh.

Finally wrapped in a luxuriously plush robe courtesy of Chloe, she leaned forward and looked into the mirror. No cuts, no bruises, no marks. Except for Chloe’s bite she was back to her usual resting bitch face with none the wiser about what she had just been through. Nothing had changed but she knew she was a different creature entirely than the woman who had been abducted from her caravan days..or weeks before. Honestly she wasn't even sure how much time had passed. It felt like a lifetime.

“Beca? Are you okay in there?”

She pulled back from the mirror at the knock and tightened her grip on the soft white terry cloth at her neck like the literal robe clutching prude that she was. Beca shuffled to the door and opened it a crack to peek out. Aubrey hovered just outside the door full of concern and holding a folded stack of clothes.

“What’s all that?”

“Chloe’s wardrobe is a little more…colorful than your usual style but I did find some things you might v-vibe with?”

God, did she have to be so fucking adorable all the time? Beca smiled and opened the door wider. “Still figuring out what the cool kids say, huh?”

“I feel as though I’m speaking a new language comprised of words I already know but no longer understand the meaning of.”

Aubrey handed over the folded stack of clothes with a soft frustrated sigh. It was hard to reconcile this gentle and confused woman with the crazed ax wielding demon vampire she knew the blonde could be.

“Well you're doing great. And you look like you feel better.”

The blonde gave a slight nod and self consciously brought her hand up to the side of her face that had been burned. There wasn't even a hint of redness now.

“Thanks to you. You seem to have healed as well.”

Aubrey reached out a tentative hand and grazed a fingertip along her jaw, tipping her head to the light. A cool hand cupped her cheek and Beca leaned into it. It was an almost perfect feeling standing there together. The air around them shifted as Chloe’s body filled the space beside them. Her pale arms slid around Beca and Aubrey, closing the circuit between them. Now it was perfect.

Power hummed up around them without the intensity they had called up in the van. This was something much softer and it swirled and eddied around them as though they were caught in a current. Their connection wasn't just magic that flowed between them, it was a part of each of them bound together in a way mere bodies could never achieve.

And the Council would never let them have this. Not without a fight.

Beca sighed and pulled back only enough to look at the two vampires. Now that she had whatever this was she intended to keep it. And as much as she wanted to sink into Chloe’s bed with them and do things that absolutely would get them arrested in several states and totally murdered by the Blood Guard, she knew they needed to plan.

“Can we talk?”

Chloe’s arms dropped from around them in resignation and Beca felt a tiny stab of rejection through their connection. The redhead mastered her tone and smiled just as airily and bright as always and it made Beca wonder how many times Chloe had done that before for her. Always accepting the rejection and only offering a teasing smile in return.

“Of course Bec. I'm sure you'd like to set up some ground rules for us…”

Confusion furrowed her brow at that. Rules? Beca opened her mouth but closed it with a click as she eyed them carefully.

“Wait…rules?”

“For our behavior.” Came Aubrey’s prompt reply.

“For your behavior?”

She felt like a parrot just repeating back what she was being told but her brain couldn't seem to wrap itself around what was being suggested. Chloe took pity on her and gestured vaguely around the apartment.

“So you'll feel safe here with us. We won't bite. We promise.”

Beca couldn't explain the way that made her feel. It was in their nature to bite. To feed. To take because they could. And yet for her, they would resist. Had resisted for days even with her leaking blood like a sieve after every injury.

“Oh Chlo…” How did she even begin to explain to them that biting wasn't even on her list of concerns? Beca reached out and took Chloe’s hand in her own, drawing her in closer. “I don't need you, either of you, to follow rules to make me feel safe. I trust you. Safe words for kink on the other hand…well we can get to that later.”

Chloe’s smile was slow and wide and Beca definitely felt her heart do flip flop things she hadn’t felt before. The redhead gave her a quick peck on the cheek and nudged her back into the bathroom.

“Put some pants on, Necromancer, or that talk is going to happen sooner than you think.”

Beca grinned and shut the door on them so she could dress. Not that she needed the privacy but she also didn't want to tempt Chloe into mounting her. Yet.

When she came out Aubrey was predictably hovering with nervous tension by the door.

“If not our behavior then what do you wish to speak to us about?”

Beca took in Aubrey’s small frown of confusion and reached out her free hand to the blonde and led her to bed where Chloe was patiently waiting. It felt better touching them both and she settled in between them, content to just be held.

“Our plan. Which seems like a stupid topic when we're all canoodled up like this. How are you warm right now?”

Chloe giggled at Aubrey’s obvious discomfort at the question and Beca was surprised to see a faint blush rise to the otherwise porcelain skin.

“We fed while you were showering. Aubrey is just a little embarrassed about breaking the fridge.”

“It was an accident.”

“You were drunk.”

Beca's eyes went wide. “Do I want to know?”

“She thought the stainless steel fridge was a can of sardines.”

“It has no handle! I didn’t know how to open it! What kind of contraption has a sealed door with no discernible handle?”

It started as a Muttley snicker that turned into a full on belly laugh that she couldn't seem to stop. Every overwrought nerve she had released its tension and she laughed until she could barely breathe and her sides hurt.

And they let her. Without her needing to explain why her hysterical laughter had turned to uncontrollable sobs. They simply held her between them and weathered the storm of Beca’s emotions with gentle kisses and soothing caresses.

“I'm sorry.”

“For having emotions? Bec, you're totes allowed to have all of the feels right now. You've been through a lot, we all have.”

Beca rubbed her face with both hands and sat up a little bit straighter. Having a break down was a luxury they couldn't really afford. After a second she was able to pull her wits together and face Chloe and Aubrey who were sitting there looking at her like…

The necromancer lifted her head prepared to see at the very least the shadow of cringe in their eyes. But she only found compassionate understanding from beings she never before thought capable of any such thing. It almost started another round of inexplicable crying and she had to look away quickly and clear her throat.

“Thanks. For you know, whatever.”

Aubrey’s head tipped to the side as she considered Beca carefully. She was sure the blonde ws secretly reading her mind with that assessing gaze.

“What? Is…is there something on my face or?”

“I would like to kiss you now.”

It started a sputtering laugh out of her and Beca found herself subconsciously stroking a thumb over spot on her arm that Aubrey fed from. Chloe's gaze tracked the movement and her lips pulled into a slow smile.

“I think we both would like to kiss you now.”

Beca opened her mouth to argue that they needed to plan their next steps, to prepare for the war they would bring to the Council but Aubrey’s warm hand cupped her jaw and gently guided her forward into a gentle kiss. The connection between them swelled at the first brush of lips against her own and it stole her breath away.

She pulled back and blinked owlishly at the blonde as she tried to order her thoughts and regain her focus. The necromancer cleared her throat and opened her mouth again. This time it was Chloe that guided her into a kiss and once again she was swallowed by a wave of magic and emotion so intense she could only make a helpless needy sound until the vampire pulled away.

“Okay rude.”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was clearly not the reaction she had expected. Beca could feel another laugh starting to bubble up and tugged Aubrey forward into a smiling kiss.

“I didn't tell you to stop, Horny.”

They could wait to plan. Right? The Bloodguard couldn't be that close to finding them that they couldn't take some time for them….right? Chloe’s hand slid over her thigh and flicked her tongue teasingly over the scar she had left on Beca's neck. Fire shot down her spine and settled between her legs. Well. She was probably totally going to die anyway so why not go out with a bang?

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

DF Posting: KingChannels - Year 3

Here we are again. Much belated on account of me having an awful head cold for most of the past two weeks.

The beginning of the defensive layer, which, as time has gone on, has only gotten less solid. Regardless I think having room to retreat behind corners when archers come a knocking will be helpful.

We left last year with the trade depot Almost complete, and the defensive layer, starting up. Happy to say we made a lot of progress on both, but a lot happened so we'll start from the top.

Early on the elven caravan arrived; I personally have no abnormal distaste for the elves (even if selecting everything in a bin except the bin is obnoxious), but we didn't have any trade goods because I'd not decided to, you know, make any, on account of sheets being wanted next year. So we didn't really get anything, not that they brought much. Not even very many animals. Very dissapointing honestly. Didn't even get a screenshot.

Our starter library. We probably won't need it anymore after we start getting the tower constructed but that could be a while. I set a scholar to work here after I made it as well, and installed a table later on.

In the meantime we made a starter library for our scholarly pursuits to begin in earnest, rather then waiting for the tower to start construction. It's small, but it'll work. We assigned Ingish Arzesidan as scholar, our old woodcutter. She honestly loves it and is constantly getting good thoughts from debating and pondering, though these are somewhat offset by her bad thoughts from not practicing a craft. Thems the breaks. Around this time I also started making clothes from our pig tail fiber, to ensure our in fort child would have clothing. Also so anyone whose clothes rot off can get a new set.

Our first scholar.

After all that hubbub we almost immediately got a migrant wave; 9 dwarves, 2 melee dwarves for the military, and a High Master Surgeon, very nice. This reminded me we needed to make a hospital. My idea is to build it on the ground floor, likely near the cistern, hopefully out of the way of any trouble in the event anyone needs to be brought to it during combat. It'll also make getting the water from the cistern to the nearly required hospital well less of a pain in the butt.

The first two are our melee dwarves and the last is the surgeon.

Around the time of the migrant wave we got another Child Strange Mood; it finished around the time we finished sorting otu the migrant wave as Ablel Regezar only grabbed two apple wood logs. He made, adorably, a toy axe, Desiszisang. During the course of this year I caught several dwarf children playing with it so at least it's getting use!

The fort's most popular toy. And... only toy, now that I'm thinking about it.

Of note; all this happened in Early Spring. This was a very rapid fire series of events, but things slow down a bit henceforth. Not before finding a mysterious vomit trail from the trade depot to the first floor of the fortress entrance. Probably a dwarf that'd been underground long enough to get cave adapted. I didn't see any sign of combat, anyway, so it's not an injury at least. Regardless the fort now has its first streak of green mess. There will be many more.

Every fort, by the end of the run, is usually just covered in blood and puke. This is small potatoes.

Taking up the next large swathe of time was mostly me digging to find ores, rather then for fortress construction, with the completion of a stockpile I was digging near the metal processing area to store ore and coal. During this time I'd noticed unhappy dwarves were looking pretty intimidating, I think it hit a high of 16 which is more then a third of our fort. You've gotta nip this in the bud so in a mostly ineffectual attempt to do that I made some meals. Mostly quarry bush leaves, but higher food quality = happier dwarf. Unfortunately we don't really have a lot of edible wildlife, I've only seen ravens and they're too small to butcher and a pain to catch besides. Maybe one day we'll be eating raven eggs, but it seems like a bit too much trouble for now.

all of my mining floors start like this. I want people to be able to move through them well in the event I use them for something more important then burial site.

We hit Lignite and Iron shortly below where I started digging exploratorily. Very good sign; if we can find flux we've got steel, which is fantastic. That'll handily take care of most of our fortress defense needs, at least as far as we can hope for. We also found kaolinite which will make us some high quality ceramic stuff when I set it up. I also intend to use the exploratory digging tunnels for most of our burial slabs; it just feels appropriate to me.

During all this, the work on the defensive layer was moving along. The windows on the left are Gem windows, and we'll be layering some fortifications over hte front of them to ensure noone just breaks in through those windows. Eventually patrols or watch animals will keep an eye out through there to let us know when goblins or kobolds are skulking around. Hopefully, anyway.

It was around this time I realized my military squads had Never Stopped Training. I looked into a bit of stuff regarding the new UI and it turns out they've been on manual training, never stop mode, for like a year now. That's probably why everyone's so pissed off. I fix that and indeed the bad moods at the fort start dropping, thankfully. THe summer migrant wave also hit, 8 dwarves. A high master metalcrafter, a high master furnace operator, and a middling papermaker. Normally the papermaker would be on hauling duty, but given we're making a library... hmm. Two randos from the wave got drafted into our military squad making an even 10. Training can Really start now. Especially now that they're doing advanced training and teaching and sparring and such. They don't do that on manual evidently.

Once more, oru new Local Celebrities. I also assigned another dwarf to scholarship around this time I believe; Kadol Usenvabok. We'll probably worry more about the scholars when the tower goes up because if I keep posting dwarf thoughts we're gonna hit the image cap.

Seconds after this migrant wave the high master metalcrafter enters a secretive mood. Looks like we're getting a legendary metalcrafter. Honestly sort've stinks; he was allmost there anyway. Regardless, he goes to work. After some livestock butchery, he makes an Artifact Silver Chain out of Horse Leather, Chert Blocks, a Silver Bar, and cut bloodstones. Pretty nice sounding, and we can definitely find a use for it somewhere. Probably put it in a well, but maybe we can find some sort've novel use for it in the tower. It Is silver after all.

Pretty Good.

As we moved into autumn, I realized we were running out of food for some reason. Had the realization we weren't growing any plump helmets in autumn for some reason, so I fixed that. Also set about to making another still, as the population was getting quite hefty and a single still probably wouldn't be cutting it for much longer. As time went on it stabilized, and later in the year restocked itself so we're good again. Crisis Averted.

Shortly before the caravan arrived there were officially enough farmers in the fort to qualify for a farmer's guild. I immediately set about making one of the rooms I Dug out for specifically this purpose into a farmer's guild, and everyone was happy about it. Farmer dwarves will talk about farming in there, along with just generally socializing. It'll slowly increase their skills in various farming aptitudes. It's great.

The Dwarven caravan arrives annnnnd I forgot to make trade goods. God damn. I quickly hammer out some rock rings and buy some iron bars, using them to make a weapon for the militia. Need stuff sooner then later, and we're not exactly short on iron. The liason requested Amulets, which is great for us and I Immediately set on that to avoid this problem next year. I make our standard selection of military grade metals and silver.

Around this time enough work on the cistern got done for me to be comfortable draining the pond, finally. I wanted to get constructed stuff in there sooner rather then later because... I like constructed stuff. No dirty hole water here.

the top floor hadn't been walled in yet but I did take care of that over the rest of the year.

I love a bit of fluid mechanics in DF so this excited me. I've actually not done a lot of it, but I love the concept. We'll probably need another pool or two before it'll have enough loaded in to make its way to the hospital well, but it rains all the time here, so it shouldn't be too long. Since we've got enough standing water in the cistern too (about a full z level), we can just dump in whatever we can get and it'll be stored too, so that's nice.

Anyway the autumn migrant wave hits annnnnnd we got two dwarves. I forgot I had the migrant cap lowered to a pitiful 50 due to a previous fort I ran, so that's my bad, Yet Again. I raise it to 100. The two dwarves were not notable in any way. I also assign a scribe to our library to copy the books we do have.

As we trundle on towards winter, a child is posessed, which has become a commonplace enough occurrence that I honestly wasn't particularly interested. More livestock died to feed the leather requirement, and he got wood, bones and leather.

Before he finished his artifact, however, a werehare broke into the depot. He immediately bites down on Logem Urvaddatan, our freshly recruited high master surgeon, and shakes him to bits.

So much for that hospital. KingChannelses first fatality. Brutal.

There were two militadwarves nearby at the time so they immediately set to attacking the werehare (with picks?? why do you people have picks equipped you're not miners), and he goes down pretty unceremoniously, being an unarmored, roughly human size, enemy.

During the scuffle however, a militadwarf was bitten. This means they are now a werehare, and they Will be hostile to their fellow dwarves when they turn.

The bitten militiadwarf on the left, Iden Eshtanmubun and more competent combat on the right.

Me, not willing to create isolation chambers for bitten dwarves, and not wanting to have to deal with this guy popping off every quarter of a year, elect to banish him. Iden Eshtanmubun has no family in the fort, so nobody is going with him. He's upset, but what's he gonna do, come back as a werehare to take revenge? Hopefully not. He was actually also a aprt of the wave the surgeon came in on, so I guess the wave was just cursed. We'll have to keep an eye on Ablel Dumatdeleth, I Suppose.

After all of the drama and our first death, the child finishes his artifact, a horse bone pick. Maybe someone will actually use it. I kind've don't care right now kid I'm sorry.

I am normally quite happy about equippable artifacts, even if they're shit, but a pick is pretty hard to equip on purpose and they all behave the same regardless of material.

After processing all this I realized our defensive layer is pretty much done, our wall is done, our trade depot is done, it's time to build that overhang. I don't think the werehare climbed in over the wall but better safe then sorry. Unfortunaetly, while trying to do this, I realize my wall is too close to the edge of the map to build an overhang. So we have to rebuild half of it. Ugh.

In the shadow of death we find.... more menial labor. As usual, I guess.

I immediately stat making another layer of the wall on the relevant sides inside the fort. We'll worry about tearing down the outside layer later. I'd rather have a wall people can climb over then no wall at all. This in and of itself takes about til the end of the season, so we'll carry on with other stuff, though the death was the last major event of the year.

Other then some boring logistical stuff (we ran out of chert I can't color coordinate until I mine more rarrrr), the rest of the year was pretty quiet. We found some Green Jade, a 20 value gem, which is Very nice, we found more iron on the living floor, while expanding it for future waves, which I mined out, and our scribe made a copy of our one book, The Way of the Path of the Moon. Or whatever. It was something like that.

As the year drew to a close, the baby born in fort grew to a child and learned to walk on his own. He is no longer at risk of being used as a shield by his mother, and they ran out into the snow and immediately got pissed off about being snowed on. Thanks kid. She can now harvest and haul stuff, so she'll be a minor help for the next.... 15 years. Frankly if we see her grow to be an adult that alone is a fantastic run.

Baby Lolor Rimtarilir, like all dwarves, immediately knows where the clothes are upon gaining locomotion. She's also pissed off because of the snow. Get in line Lolor.

Along with the baby becoming independent, our initial Scholar, Ingish, became an astronomor. He's officially studied the book about the moon's path enough to gain a title. Our mental pursuits are looking up.

A monumentous occasion given the goal of our fort. We need more eggheads. They're chopping a tree right now but rest assured they are very intelligent.

And that's that. A death, a lot of construction and a working cistern; that will continue, but we are pulling up on the end of Surface construction not involving the tower, at least, maybe another couple of years? Hopefully we'll have sterling silver production in hand by then.

Next years goals are finally get that cistern loaded up with water and giving our dwarves an indoor well, Finish The Damn Wall, and hopefully find flux and start steel production. Also hopefully we find silver. I guess if we can't find any silver on site a ceramic tower might be good. And very silly. Same color anyway. We'll see.

Until Next Year. Our fortunes rise and fall together.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Well, this was to be expected, hehe! Good morning, Clanmom! ^^

So, remember me and another anon's requests about Forneus with a Kitten!Reader? Well, this time I had an idea... What would happen when Aym and Baal reunite with their mother - and find out they have a younger kit as a sibling now? Would it be a sweet ending for all four of them, as a big family?

If headcannons are easier, then go ahead! I just found this to be a perfect opportunity for a "sort of ending" to the small Kitten!Reader storyline with Forneus! ^^

-👻🐝 admits he cried, fr fr

Aw yeah this was indeed expected!! Imma give them the best ending <333

.....

"Mama! The Sacred Lamb is here again!!"

"'tis alright, dear. Allow them a moment of rest. See if they're interested in any of our wares." You heard Forneus' voice call out from inside the caravan.

While she was busy putting together more trinkets to sell, you sat outside the little shop, having learned the ways of business thanks to her. You ensured the stack of gold nuggets were in a neat pile, and the gift box's red bow was perfectly placed.

Everything had to look perfect for your customers!

Today, you wondered what the Lamb was going to pick, as they were only permitted to choose one item for free.

However, when you saw them emerge from the clearing, your eyes wandered to the two floating brown-furred demons flanking either side of them. They were surrounded in a white glow, their yellow gazes sharp and piercing.

You were a bit familiar with many of the lesser demons they brought on their crusades. They took many forms: bows, hearts, blades, bombs...

But never the heads of felines.

Curious, you stood up and approached them respectfully. "B-Blessed Lamb...what demons are those?" You meekly asked, hands clasped together. "What do they do?"

The bearer of the Red Crown was about to respond to your inquiry, but then they saw Forneus emerge from the caravan and stopped. Instead, they whispered to you that they were "gifts" that your mother so dearly yearned for.

Although a little confused, you stepped aside so she could see them. You noted the demons' harsh stares softened significantly upon locking eyes with her--

And became a bit startled when she suddenly fell to her knees, as though knocked over by a strong gust of wind.

But there was not a breeze to be felt.

"A heart remembers..a mother shan't forget.." She muttered in astonishment, trails of tears already staining her face. Yet her smile was brighter than the sun. "O, generous fortune! Should I be dreaming, never allow me to wake!" She cried, holding her paws out. "Kit, fraction of my beating heart!"

One of the demons floated over to her, and in a puff of smoke it turned into a black cat adorned in white clothing. He wore a camelia flower upon his breast, and the warmest of smiles on his face.

'That...must be Baal..' You realized, watching as he hugged his mom, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

"Ah, Lamb! Praised Lamb! Blessed Lamb! My son returned, soul almost whole!" Forneus beamed in joy, looking to the other demon that remained beside Lamb, beckoning it over to her side.

And it did exactly that, turning into another black cat who wore red and black. He had some nicks in his ear, a scar running across one eye. Yet despite his scary appearance, he completely crumbled in the loving embrace of his mother, crying several tears of joy.

'And that's Aym.' You smiled sweetly, seeing that both of her biological sons have been returned to her.

This was a happy day, indeed. You had hoped to meet them sometime in your life..and here they were now.

After Forneus thanked Lamb by bestowing them with new relics to use on their journeys, they went on their way, wishing all of you the best. Although they never explained how exactly he managed to bring them back, it didn't matter.

She offered Aym a cookie to cheer him up, but just as he was about to take a bite...he noticed you standing there and blinked. "Mother, who is this?"

"Yes, who are they? Are they a kit you've taken in?" Baal questioned.

The air suddenly felt very heavy and tense as you just stared back at them, offering a nervous smile. Yet your heart was beating even faster than before.

Up until this very moment, you didn't even consider the fact that you were a complete stranger to them.

What did they think of you?

Did they see you as some random cat who tried taking their place in their mother's life?

If so, what was going to happen now?

"Fear not, my darling kits." Forneus soothed, hugging her sons close. "This is [y/n], whom I have fostered when I found them all alone in these harsh lands. My heart forever bled for you two when you hadn't returned...but they mended much of those wounds, keeping me company."

"...it's true." You spoke up, relieved that she defended you as you wrung your paws together anxiously. "She told me a lot about you guys. I know it seems strange, but please understand...I-I never tried to replace-"

"We understand." The brothers spoke in unison, smiling as they detached themselves from their mom and approached you.

"That blasted--erm...sacred Lamb.." Aym corrected himself. "..they brought us back, reminding us of many good virtues in the short time we've been in their cult. Understanding..forgiveness...charity...such foreign ideals I used to scorn. Yet here I feel...I can embrace them wholly again."

"I feel it, too." Baal chimed in, his smile never fading as he offered his paw to you. "How could we resent the one who helped our dear mother in our absence? We'd love to get to know you better....um.."

"[Y/n]." You felt your shoulders relax as you shook hands with him and Aym, grateful at their kindness.

Then, out of nowhere, Forneus swept all three of you into a loving embrace, squishing you against each other and her.

"What a blessed day this is! Such a blessed day! May we never part in this life nor the next!!" She cooed, with Aym groaning in embarrassment, Baal smiling bashfully, and you simply taking in this precious moment with your newfound brothers.

At last, this once severed family was made whole again.

[senpiecakes]

Do you accept a request or not? Can i get scaramouche, childe, kazuha and zhongli asking s/o out only for the reader to just explain that they have a dead lover and even after their lover dies. They still love them and don't want to "cheat" on them. And suprise! The dead lover didn't actually die! They just goes missing but it's all good. The reader is happy and the lover is happy everything is good! But for them? Perhaps they'll get lucky next time full of angsty!!!!

IM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

Notes: My nose bleeds everytime I wake up now. Is that concerning?

Summary: ‘The Other Woman’ by Lana del Rey 

Warning/s: Implied murder + Graphic depictions of death on Childe’s part, Some lore spoilers? Hints of Yandere Childe, Attempted Murder (Childe/Wanderer), Implied Death on all parts, GN! Reader + GN! Lover

Theme/s: GN!Reader and Lover, Angst to comfort (for Y/N only), Angst, Moving on, Unrequited love, One-sided love

Featured: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Zhongli, Kazuha, Childe, Bonus!Albedo

@harukisakisblog

Wanderer

The Wanderer is an unusual individual. You first met him traveling alone in the scorching deserts without proper gear nor equipment, and even food for that matter. Worried he’s going to drop dead at any moment, you took it upon yourself to try and help him. Instead of showing you gratitude, like most weary travelers do, he instead responds with a scowl and a gesture meant to run you off. 

“Leave me alone.” He snaps at you, lowering his hat to avoid your prying stare. The Wanderer was surprised to say the least when you didn’t take his words to heart.

“That’s what the heat does to people!” You retort, throwing a jug of water at him. “Drink. Wherever you’re headed, It’s probably far so you need all the resources you can get.” The Wanderer was a little taken aback by your response. Usually, strangers were wise enough to leave him be, obvious that he didn’t want any companionship. But your naivete didn’t prompt him to try and drive you away. It was getting lonely in the desert anyways.

The Wanderer had no set place to be, just like you were, and the two of you found common ground in that. You traveled together as a caravan of sorts; two strangers just following wherever the road will take them. You tried to get close with whoever you’re traveling with but the most he’s told you was that The Wanderer carries no name; he was secretive with his exploits but told you enough about himself to not see him as a threat unless needed. 

“So you could be kind of my bodyguard.” You tell him enthusiastically. The Wanderer scoffs at your proposal.

“I won’t even try to ward off a cicin for you.” You only laugh lightly at his remarks and he can’t help but be perplexed, time and time again. Day by day, The Wanderer wonders about you and your endurance to such treatment. He thought that maybe he would have driven you away by now, that you’d heatedly trudge off into nowhere and he’d be alone again. That or the heat really was getting into your head and you enjoyed torturing yourself. But you persisted and The Wanderer was shocked at the fact that you didn’t seem to mind him at all.

Soon, The Wanderer found himself not only tolerating your presence, but also looking forward to it. When the two of you stop to gather supplies at a shop somewhere, he finds himself discussing whether the Harra Fruit or Henna Berries would be better for your next journey. He pushes himself to make conversations with you whenever trails grow empty and boring. The Wanderer even opts to carry some of your materials sometimes- begrudgingly of course- saying how if you pass out, he’ll have to carry you all the way back and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

“I thought you won’t even swat off a cicin for me?” 

“Shut up.”

At some point in your endless journey, the two of you became comfortable enough around each other to open up about things you’d never tell a stranger. The most the Wanderer told you was about his memory loss, how he gained it back and now he’s just wandering the world without anything or anyone to keep him from seeing it. 

“Why are you out here in the world?” He asks you next. You hum and stare down at your feet. It was the saddest he’s ever seen your cheery face.

“I… lost someone very important to me.” You say. “They were just like you, you know.” You explain to him the tragedy that befell your said person. They loved to adventure, free as a bird and unconfined by any responsibility. One day, they packed one too little supplies and ended up disappearing for so long that they were eventually pronounced dead from starvation, dehydration, or whatever the wild had to give. That’s why you worry about The Wanderer too much, not wanting him to have the same fate as your lover. You were devastated to say the least but found the strength to pick up where they left off as a means to carry on their legacy. And now you’re here with The Wanderer, living out old dreams as a means to run away from the past. 

Truth be told, The Wanderer was fascinated by your resilience. He couldn’t understand why you of all people in the world- so kind, caring, hopeful- would be able to be with someone like him. The Wanderer watches you look at him like he was the only one you’ll turn to when things go for the worst: if you fall, when you’re tired, when the memories seem too heavy to carry. He feels you hold his hands as you walk through dangerous terrain- his hands that have wrought unthinkable crimes against the world, like he was meant to be held like a gentle feather. Like he was deserving of love just as anyone else.

“You remind me of them,” you told him once. “They were stubborn too.” His heart flutters at the sincerity of your tone, the softness and endearment in your eyes when you look at him as if you are reminded of the one who you had loved before. He hopes that maybe you see past that- that when you look at The Wanderer, new love springs from the ashes and it is only meant for him. You see him as your present and future.

“I could care less.” He’d reply, refusing again and again to perceive you as another person who he could give a chance to. He sees what he used to be in your mannerisms; the curiosity you have towards the world, friendliness and trust for others, willingness to see past the worst in people. The Wanderer thinks that you could be the one he can start over with. Once in a while, he’d imagine such incredulous thoughts- to live most of his days adventuring by your side. You’ve moved on in his mind, your heart now set for him and the past would be gone and it’ll be just the both of you in your shared present. He’d be happier maybe, letting his guard down after years and years of strengthening his own heart for the sake of holding onto the last few remnants of his innocence. The Wanderer would finally be content and he would have to thank you for that.

But all happy things must come to an end in his life. 

One morning, as he is preparing himself for another excursion with you, The Wanderer had hope for the day. He felt as though something good was about to happen. He felt the need to maybe give you a hint of what could be your future together- with him by your side for as long as he could want. He won’t be outright about it, but he’d tell you enough to know how he really cares. Putting his feelings in order, The Wanderer steps out to look for you, and when he does, he feels as though his chest might cave in with the anger that swirled inside it.

The Wanderer watches as you joyfully throw yourself in the arms of someone else, smile wider than he has ever seen, happier than when you are with him. He can overhear your conversation. The person explaining how they were found by an adventuring team who brought them back to safety. They were in recovery for a while and spent their days looking for you. You’re relieved, never wanting to be separated from the one who you thought had been gone from this world. In that moment, you forgot about your traveling companion and it was clear how much you loved the person that wasn’t The Wanderer. His lips press into a thin line, brows furrowed above his wide eyes. His fists form into a tight ball and wind surges through his fists. The Wanderer’s old wounds reopen as he feels the familiar ache of betrayal worming its way through his ‘heart.’ His jaw tightens as he watches you lovingly hold your lover in your hands- your very hands that he found himself feeling safe in, the same he’s held when he feels the world is forgiving enough to let him meet you. The Wanderer’s skin burns with anger as he sees you smile, seemingly forgetting your grief, forgetting how he had been there with you to witness it. Your lover doesn’t deserve your joy. They left you. You’ve moved on with him. Only he gets to have what he wants.

Slowly, The Wanderer trudges over to the both of you, the wind in his palms forming into gusts resembling storms. He was ready to fight, seeing nothing but red as the creeping sensation of deception crawled up his sides. His fury was insatiable and he was ready to discard the lessons he was taught by the gentle wisdom of the Dendro Archon. Fists raised, he was silent and ready; ready to unleash the might of an Archon betrayed. For a split second, he gets a glimpse of your face in his sight, and for a split second, the turbulent winds cease into a breeze.

The Wanderer catches your gaze steadily searching- for him. Your voice rings in his ears- calling his name as your attention from your lover wavers. Your expression displays worry when you can’t find him. Slowly, The Wanderer emerges from the shadows as his wide-eyed stare is transfixed onto you. You see him, and he is caught off guard by your smile; so welcoming, so warm and sincere. Your gentle hands break free from your lover's grasp and you hold them out to him, calling him to draw near and be with you. The Wanderer’s gaze never left your eyes- full of kindness and innocence- reminding him of his own when he was still new to the world devoid of suffering. But you, you had suffered just as he did, and even then when you were at the peak of your grief, you chose to be kind to the world. Kind to him.

“Come,” You tell him, holding out your hand. “I want you to meet someone.” The Wanderer reaches for you and once his fingertips graze through the surface of yours, he is brought back down into the life he lived with you; moments he now holds dear. You introduce The Wanderer to your lover, the one you always spoke of to him, and they greet him with the excitement you had- thanking The Wanderer for being there for you when they weren’t. He breathes hard and forces his emotions back for your sake. Even your lover was kind enough to hold no malice against him. He knows he’s done nothing wrong, but a sense of guilt wrings deep within The Wanderer’s pit.

You’re too kind, too forgiving. If he kills you, you’d forgive him. If he kills the one you love most, you won’t forgive him. The Wanderer would never be able to live with himself carrying the knowledge that you, a person who swore to love him at his worst, would come to hate him after all. He will never forgive himself. Who was he to deserve such love anyways?

That very night, he waits until you sleep and quietly drifts off into the welcoming confines of loneliness. He doesn’t yet know the pain of one's heart being broken by someone he loves. To feel it with you, the person he least expected would hurt him, was earth-shattering. What The Wanderer does know was that he loved you. He’s given himself the chance to understand the intimacy and closeness that you had to share with someone, and even that, he cannot have. He understands that you already had it in your heart to love him, and for a while, you did. Fate had other plans and The Wanderer wishes he could alter it in a way that would favor him. But you’re happier, and that's all that matters. He’ll love you from a distance, and for now, the world is his to find peace in someone else.

Kazuha

You were a different character compared to the rest of the Crux. While they were loud, boisterous and full of energy, you were withdrawn, silent and observant- much like Kazuha. When the Crux noticed your similar personalities, they were quick to tease you both into a sort of friendship for your shared calmness. 

‘Why not.’ Kazuha thought. ‘It’s always nice to meet a new friend.’

You on the other hand felt a little awkward about the whole situation. Even when Kazuha introduced himself to you formally, you only nodded in response, looking like you didn’t want an interaction in the first place. Kazuha was confused by this. He thought that maybe he gave off a bad first impression (thanks to the crew), so he opted to find out what he did wrong.

“Nothing wrong with what you did, kid,” Captain Beidou explained. “Y/N’s been dealt a rough card. Someone they loved disappeared at sea. I don’t really think they like being out here right now.” Kazuha looks over to you, staring out into the waters, an uncertain look on your face as you try to search for something that wasn’t there. At every chance you get, Kazuha always sees you by the docks, hopeful and solemn. He thought that it was his obligation to keep you company. After all, he was grieving himself.

“I’m sorry about what happened.” Kazuha says. “It must be hard for you.” You don’t even look at him, your expression pained and distant. 

“It is.” You say. Kazuha stands with you, staring out into the horizon as you both watch the sun set out into the waves. 

“I know what it’s like. To lose someone you love.” Only then did you decide to spare a glance at the samurai. He had a small smile on his face, remembering the days when his friend was still at his side. “Won’t you tell me about them?”

You two shared stories about those who’ve gone too soon; how they made you happy, the memories you shared good and bad, and how terrible it feels to relieve yourself of the grief when it’s the only thing that made you feel close to them. At least to Kazuha, he still had his friends’ Vision. And you had nothing but shared joy and laughter with the person you still loved. It became a sort of ritual for you both to meet at the docks and reminisce about the past. Soon, your topics broadened into past adventures, families, and the lives you’ve lived before boarding the Alcor. And sooner, you found yourself smiling.

The Crux was shocked to see the entire thing unfold. They’d never seen you smile so wide before, nor laugh for that matter. But as soon as you saw Kazuha already waiting for you with a haiku in hand to recite, it seemed that happiness found itself in you. You felt unbelievably tranquil around Kazuha. His laid-back nature temporarily subdued the pain in your heart and his welcoming presence drew away your loneliness. You were genuinely happy to be around him and he made you forget your grief in those sunsets you spent with the samurai. 

Kazuha on the other hand felt himself harboring stronger feelings for you the more and more you were around. He watched you grow from this withdrawn individual into someone that cracked jokes with the crew during dinners and situated yourself as everyone told stories. His heart raced each time you ran up to him with a smile, asking him to recite a poem as you listened, eyes closed, a small smile on your lips. Before he knew it, Kazuha was in love. He wasn’t quick to try and woo you when he realized his feelings for you were stronger than he thought. He wasn’t obvious about it as you said so yourself that you only saw him as a friend Kazuha was more than understanding, albeit a little disappointed. You confide to him that you simply cannot let go of the love you had for another- another that’s gone away- and Kazuha recognized the longing in your voice mirroring his own; chasing the euphoria of the past that’s already slipped away.

In a while, you noticed that you always looked forward to the sun setting- impatiently waiting for the day to end so you could meet up with Kazuha. You felt shy around him for some reason, nervous even and Kazuha was quick to pick up on the signs. You found yourself to be more open to the idea of moving forward and brought it up to Kazuha who, in turn, was happy for you and told you not to rush about it. How long that’ll be, he’ll wait. But deep down he was excited; to finally be the one to create new memories with.

Kazuha should’ve let his hopes die down. That day, he planned to profess his love for you, to let go of the weight in his heart and finally, finally be true to himself. He waited and waited until the day would finally end. You knew for a while that his question was coming. You saw the way his smile gleamed with joy every time you came around, how his sonnets and poems dropped with passion, hinting at a romance starting to bloom. You looked forward to it, and Kazuha was more than elated to notice your enthusiasm.

However, Kazuha’s excitement was dashed when Captain Beidou introduced a new crew member. She found them floating on a raft in the middle of the sea, exhausted, worn and barely having enough energy to speak. The introduction quickly became a heartfelt reunion when you instantly recognized the new member as your lover who had supposedly died back in Inazuma. In a flash, you ran in their arms, and they found the strength to say their first word since stepping aboard.

“Y/N.” They croak, through tears and strain. “You’re okay.” Tears spilled from your eyes and your smile was the widest the Crux has ever seen.

“I could say the same for you.”

Kazuha watched the entire thing unfold- your once somber expression now comparable to the innocent giddiness of a child, your wonderful smile illuminated by the sun above, making you look more magnificent than Kazuha thought. But it wasn’t for him. It was for someone else. The crux was happy for the both of you- even Kazuha who pushed his feelings aside and met with your lover as you introduced them to him.

It was a joyous moment for the Crux that night filled with laughs and celebration- save Kazuha who only watched from a distance. You didn’t even notice him. When the cheers died down and the sun slept through the seas, Kazuha stayed down at the docks and did some thinking. That night, he stared out into the open sea and was silent. He couldn’t even try to think of anything else apart from you, how cruel coincidence could be to play with his heart that way.

It’s unfair. He thinks selfishly. It’s unfair.

He should have been the one for you, not them. You were moving on with him, you were happy- but not happier. Kazuha wanted to work that out with you. To have him be the one to shoulder your pain and soothe you through all your troubles. He’d gladly suffer over and over again if it meant he could be with you… if it meant you’d choose him.

Since then, Kazuha resorted to playing the avoidance card. Each time you tried to talk to him since that day, your conversations would be short, his answers curt and he seemed to try and have your time together end abruptly. You knew why he was acting this way, but felt it a little unfair since you had already mentioned your heart can never be swayed. Still, you felt guilt creep up your sides each time you saw him look so miserable all because you brought up the idea that you could move on. You couldn’t, you didn’t, and that shouldn’t have been your fault. Kazuha should be able to see it that way.

Late at night, you listen to the breeze whistle past the masts and there you see Kazuha, at your shared spot, staring out the somber horizon. His face was calm and unsure, a small frown on his lips. Truth be told, Kazuha was scolding himself for acting out. He hated the way he treated you, hated how his chest burned each time you walked up to him in hopes you rekindle your companionship, but he was too deep in his feelings and would snuff out any of your attempts. Kazuha wanted to be close with you still, but each time he watched you and your lover from a distance build upon your relationship as if it never ended, Kazuha couldn’t help but wish it were him instead of them.

“Hey,” you say, snapping Kazuha away from his thoughts. He looks back at you and you approach him timidly, placing yourself in the usual spot you took beside him. Kazuha only stares at you, a small, hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” Kazuha replies, his voice airy and withdrawn. He doesn’t want to talk, not with you, not right now. Not especially when his heart is threatening to cave out of his chest. You situate yourself beside him and breathe in the calm, salty air.

“Mind telling me why you’re up here so late?” You ask. Kazuha only grips at the ship and you purse your lips at his unwillingness to talk. He was never the type to be upfront about things anyway. You almost regret coming out here with him but you knew deep down you had to apologize for something that was never in your control. Kazuha knew that you didn’t want to let go, but he can’t help but still feel betrayed.

“I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting, Kazuha.” You started. “I know that you hoped it would be different for us.” Kazuha finally looks at you, holding tightly at the edges of the ship.

“I’m just glad they’re okay,” he says, something terrible caught in his throat. “And what matters to me most is that you’re happy.” You smile lightly, placing an assuring hand over his. Kazuha bites his tongue as he looks at you- gentle eyes soft and aglow against the moon.

“And I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.” He says finally, voice gentle and apologetic. You only nod in response

“Can we still be friends?” You ask, hopeful and nervous. Kazuha was taken aback by this, but nevertheless returns the gesture, holding your hand in his, an assuring squeeze around it.

“Yes.” He says, unsure, quiet, but hopeful. “We can still be friends.”

Zhongli 

Zhongli, more than anyone, would know how it feels to hold onto someone you know will never return. He knows the agony of perpetually living in the past in hopes that maybe fate will be kind enough to relieve him of the burden of yearning. Alas, time does not work the way fate does. Zhongli longs for the past when time was kinder, when he and his companions had nothing to worry about. You too knew that feeling all too well.

Odd twists of fate led you to become the shadow of the person you once were. Grief was something you were never prepared for but you knew you had to be ready for it. Your lover knew the seas like the back of their hand after all- you thought you had nothing to fear given their skill. But fate had other plans and now you find yourself alone, in a cycle of empty days stretching into somber nights. That was when you met Zhongli.

Liyue’s busy nightlife isn’t particularly kind to lonely souls who wander ‘round the streets. Usually, people would be socializing after busy hours in the Harbor and would gladly kick off their boots and spend that time with others. You on the other hand longed for companionship somewhere else; in the rolling tides where the sea stretched far beyond the horizon. You were hoping for something, someone, that wasn’t coming back. You held on because you knew the seas always returned what was lost- even though it’s been too long for your lover to be considered lost still.

“Enjoying the waters?” A voice asks you, a man. He was tall, handsome, kind in disposition with gold eyes that flowed against the flicker of streetlights. That was if you cared enough to look.

“Mhm.” You reply, distracted at your own sadness to even look at Zhongli who stood by you. He stares at you for a bit, recognizing the empty hollow in your eyes- the shine taken away by something that anchored your heart in your stomach. He situates himself beside you and follows the direction you’re staring at into the open seas; your eyes are glued onto the boats, ships and ferries that floated idly amongst the waves.

“I take it that they were fond of the open waters?” Zhongli chimes. The question grabbed your attention as you finally looked at the man standing beside you. It was his turn to not return the gesture.

“Mhm.” You say sadly, head hanging low.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to be so forward.” Zhongli says. You looked up and your eyes met- for a brief moment, Zhongli saw his years of torment in your eyes. Suffering, grief and heartache riddled your features. Then, you smile, small but genuine; Zhongli couldn’t help but grin himself.

“It’s alright, it’s nice to talk about things like this right?” You say with a small laugh. “You must be?”

“Zhongli,” The man says. “And you are?”

“Y/N.” 

Since then, you found yourself in the company of Zhongli. It was odd, what you two had; open but secretive at the same time. So called meetings with him were frequent. Always at night when the world seemed to be livelier. You either bumped into each other at the harbor or Zhongli simply invited you over to join him for a chat. Whatever it was, what you two had became a very peculiar friendship. You felt secure enough to tell Zhongli what troubled you; how days seemed to stretch on, how lonely most nights feel despite the company of others, how everything seemed to remind you of what once was. You told Zhongli you feared that you’ll live in this state of emptiness till the end of your own life, that you can never move past the strength of your love. How burdensome it was- to love like it was the only thing you had.

“Grief is a terrible thing to experience.” Zhongli says, peeking over at you from his teacup. “But the weight of your adoration for them carries far beyond your sorrow. I think that’s quite admirable.”

“I suppose.” You say. “How deep does your burden run, Zhongli? Only people in pain would know to talk about what it means to hold on.” Zhongli chuckled at your remark.

“How inquisitive.” Truth be told, Zhongli tried to find himself in you- the gravity of your emotions comparable to his. It was rare for him to see a mortal chest-deep in a memory that happened so long ago. He’s seen people move on after a few years- but not you. Even if it meant that your torment would be the only thing that came with your love, you took it wholeheartedly because atleast then, you had something of the past. Zhongli admired that about you. It reminded him of the past companions that carried the same sentiment. He’s known you through them so Zhongli only felt it fair that he began to open up about his own grief-  and you were more than willing to listen.

“The pain of loss will never falter. It comes as it pleases but it never leaves” Zhongli says. You listened to him talk so highly about the people who had gone away; the happier years when he never thought about what it would be like to lose against time. The way he spoke was captivating to you: the tremor of his baritone voice, smooth as silk and bordering on casual professionalism. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Tell me more.” You say with interest. “About what you know.” Zhongli looks to you with delight, seeing how your expression was filled with curiosity, so vastly different from the first time he met you.

“Oh? And what would you like to know?” He asks. You shrug, staring at the man with eager eyes.

“Tell me anything.”

Since then, your topics of conversation widened into Zhongli’s most favorite domain; history. Every time Zhongli was free or off from work, he’d come visit you at your home or your usual spot down at the docks to talk. From the Archon War to the development of Liyue, Zhongli was always elated to see the eager glimmer in your eyes everytime he shared his extensive knowledge with you. He answered your inquiries, took you to historical hotspots and areas no historian has ever cataloged before. Zhongli wanted to share his life with you, unknowingly letting you step into his past and see the gravity of his grief. You listened through all of it, almost always catching the subtle hint of sadness in Zhongli’s voice each time he shared something with you, as if it was something personal and close to his heart. As if he had been there to witness it all.

“I get what you mean now,” You told Zhongli as you two walked side by side along the meadows of Jueyun Karst. 

“How do you mean?” He asks

“What you told me about grief, how it comes and goes but never leaves.” You say. Zhongli looks at you, hopeful for something you haven’t said yet. “When I’m with you, it almost seems that my grief goes away for a while.” You’re smiling at him, small but wholeheartedly sincere. Zhongli felt his chest tighten and couldn’t stop the heat that spread throughout his body as he watched you laugh at his apparent facial expression. He hopes the red on his cheeks weren’t too noticeable.

“Let’s talk more about this over a cup of tea tomorrow.” He says, coughing behind a tightly closed fist. “And then I’ll show you the Huaguang Stone Forest.” You smile softly.

“I’d like that.”

You were looking forward to seeing Zhongli that day, excited to meet with him so he could show you around different spots around Liyue and their history. You felt especially giddy when you heard a knock at your house and expected your wandering companion to be there. When you opened the door, however, you were faced by someone else. Someone familiar, a face you’ve etched deep in your memories, disheveled and sunburnt, smelling of the sea and the familiarity of home. You’re frozen, your breath caught in your airways as if you’d just seen a ghost. This time, you hoped that wasn’t the case. Eyes wide and mouth agape, the person couldn’t help but smile at you.

“I’m home.” Your lover says. You spare no second jumping into their arms- saltwater smell and all. You’re laughing, smiling, and crying at the same time. Asking questions, welcoming them back, words tumbling messily as you try and gather yourself. Your lover only smiles softly and muses at your expressions.

“I missed you so much.” They say, stroking your cheek. Only then did you begin to cry- sobs wracking your body as you sink down onto the floor as your lover follows suit, mumbling comforts and apologies in hopes to soothe your whirlwind of emotions.

From a distance, people watch the reunion with smiles on their faces. Save for one. Among the crowd, Zhongli watched you both, a bouquet of flowers native to Liyue clutched tightly in his shaking hands. He had intended to show you where each flower grows in Liyue, giving you one for each place you two would have gone together. That wouldn’t be the case now. He decides to leave you two alone, it was clear your company was already filled long before he even came into the picture.

That night, Zhongli hoped to see you at the docks, waiting for something, someone. Someone that wasn’t them, but him. But you weren’t there, and Zhongli was a bit relieved to see it. He stood by the sea and listened to the gentle waves splashing underneath him. Zhongli thought to congratulate you both and give you his well wishes in hopes to give you support- more so than he already had. Still, he can’t shake off the feeling of scorn as he watched you hand in hand with the person you loved so dearly. He shouldn’t be feeling this, after all, you loved them first. You’ve always loved them… It felt unfair to him, however, that he spent so much time with you, got to know you on an intimate level, and had high hopes that you both can find comfort in each other, and your lover just comes in and throws it all away. His effort and yours.

Zhongli can never blame you though, you loved too much for your own good, and he loved that about you as long as it’s towards him. Not someone else. He can never think to take that away from you now that you look so unbelievably happy- happier than you’ve ever been. Zhongli wasn’t the decider of fate, he knew the consequences of trying to toy with it. Still, he learned to love you, dearly. Too bad he didn’t confess his feelings quick enough. Would you still take the past back? 

“Hey.” Your voice drags him away from his spiraling thoughts, gentle like the sea. Zhongli watches you situate yourself beside him, like how he’d done the first night you two met. “I’m sorry today didn’t go as planned.”

“It’s alright,” Zhongli says, forcing back the strain in his voice. “I’m happy for you two.” 

You’re silent and so was he. You two listened to the night and Zhongli wanted so badly to leave. It was uncharacteristic of him to do so, so he just bore through the silence and pretended it’s the same one you always shared with him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Zhongli whispers finally. You take his hand and he bites down at his tongue to keep himself from talking. He couldn’t stop. “I can’t help but love you still. Your hand tightens around him.

“I know you mean well, Zhongli.” You say. “And I’m sorry I can’t be the one to return it.”

Childe

‘I wish they’d just stayed dead.’ Childe thinks in the back of his mind, smiling through a false mask once you’ve introduced your lover to him- the same one you’ve told him about about- the one that should’ve been gone. Childe’s hatred only heightens when he sees your face- pure, unwavering joy as you introduced them to him, wishing that that same giddy smile as you said your lover's name would be about him.

Childe knew you through a connection of sorts with his businesses as a Fatui. You were only one of the many unaware who they were working for, thinking of Childe as another one of your business dealings. You two saw each other semi-frequently with Childe dropping in for a few shipments or to just come by and visit one of his favorite partners. You looked forward to those surprise visits of his- finding his cheery companionship soothing you through your grief. 

One morning, Childe caught you in a bad time. Your shop curtains were drawn closed, the room was dark and silent, save for your muffled sobs coming from the storage closet.

“Y/N?” Childe calls out. You sat up from your spot and in your hands were a scarf, and a photograph of someone, presumably someone you loved dearly. “Are you okay?” 

“Childe! I didn’t know you were coming.” You say, hurriedly wiping away your tears. “I’m fine, Childe, thank you.” Promptly escorting him back outside.

After that day, Childe visited your shop more often and even went out of his way to bring you gifts to cheer you up. You saw his gestures were sweet but you didn’t want to have any other relationship with Childe other than being friendly or professional. You already made it clear to him that you don’t have the intention of pursuing anything more. Curious as he was, he respected your choice. One evening, as he treated you out to a meal, his intrigue got the best of him and asked why. You fell silent.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to-” 

“They were an adventurer.” You said solemnly, a small smile on your lips as you remember. “They… presumably disappeared on a trip to Sumeru.” Your nails dig into the surface of your palms and you feel tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. Suddenly, you feel Childe’s gloved hands above your own.

“It’s not easy to talk about it, I know.” He says. “You don’t have to say any more.

You were incredibly grateful to Childe. Not only did he somehow make your business grow, you found a genuine friendship in the Harbinger. He was patient, comforting and genuine. You felt close enough to Childe to let him see you cry on bad days when you couldn’t handle your heartache. You let him soothe you through your rants on nights when things get too stressful. Whatever it was, Childe would always be there for you. 

You thought that maybe it would be time to move on, to let your feelings from the past be something new. Something for Childe. You dropped hints at the idea, even though guilt pierces through your chest when you remember your lover. Childe never rushes you though. He wants you to be sure of your decision and you were more than grateful for his patience.

Internally, Childe counts down the days for when you finally realize your feelings for him. Even though he encourages you to take your time and allow yourself to heal of the past, he is aching for the day you would finally, finally tell him how much you love him. Until then, he waits and waits and waits. He’s determined to win over your love, whatever the case, he will get it.

That was until now.

Childe spotted you a mile away. He was happy to see you until he saw them. You were hand in hand with someone, someone he saw before. Childe stops and waits, waits for you both to approach him. When you do, he immediately recognizes the person to be the one from a photograph you had before, wearing the scarf you held onto when he saw you cry for the first time.

“Childe! I’m glad you’re here.” You say excitedly. “I have someone to introduce to you!” And indeed, it was your lover- alive and well. Childe listens to you tell stories about them. How they were found by a traveling merchant. How their recovery was a miracle and about how they took the first ship home to find you. Childe listened through it all, masking the pain and anger he felt under a warm, deceiving smile.

“We should all grab a meal together.” You suggested. Childe shakes his head and turns away, sparing a glance at you and your lover who backs away warily.

“No need, I’ll let you two catch up.”

Childe has his ways. He has connections around the world as well as Fatui. He’s quick to take action on most missions but this time, he let it happen slowly. Childe painfully watched you rekindle the flame of your past love. He watched you two kiss and hug and adore each other when it should have been him. He hated that he had to take that happiness away from you again, but he was excited about the notion that you’ll find your affections for him once more. Childe didn’t want your lover's disappearance to be suspicious after they’d just returned. He wanted it to be a tragedy, a coincidence. He didn’t want you to hate him after all. 

On one very fateful day, a surprise came to your lover when they’d been summoned for a conquest into Sumeru. You had your reservations to send your lover back out again into an adventure after what had occurred, but they were excited and you can’t take that away from them. Besides you knew in your heart that they’d return, always.

Days passed and so were you devastated once more to hear that your lover is confirmed to be dead; attacked by a Rishboland Tiger, mutilated beyond recognition and only identified by the scarf you’ve gifted them. You didn’t care how the reporter shook with anxiety as he delivered the news; you didn’t notice the word ‘ambush’ replaced with ‘attacked’ in their autopsy; you didn’t even realize that the very person who delivered the news was Fatui. You were too devastated and quick to accept pain you knew all too well. Blinded by the searing agony in your heart, you found yourself in another familiar situation in the grasp of no other than Childe. So too were you quick to throw yourself in his welcoming embrace once he got wind of what had happened. He comforted you through your reopened grief, eased you through your worries and pain and promised to be at your side for as long as it takes. He’s more patient now, he learned the best results were to wait for the right moment- and he was right. Soon, you’ll find yourself feeling the comfort of Childe’s warm meals and cheeky jokes to feel more than friendly and Childe can only smile to himself knowing that his reward was almost at his grasp.

Only almost.

Childe was too careless. He thought he already had you, but you can never betray your heart that quickly. Not again. Ever so curious and still at the grips of your hidden pain, you start skimming through some reports and information from those near the area your lover was killed, and things unknown to you make themselves clear. Locals saying how Rishboland Tigers didn’t live in that area, the wounds on your lovers’ body resembled cuts, not claw marks. The most damning thing too was that there were Fatui present in the area, long after their failed infiltration of the Akademiya. Dots began to connect and your heart only sank deeper and deeper into your stomach.

You didn’t want that to be the case. You didn’t want Childe to be the one to hurt you. It was only until you heard a creak of a floorboard and a reluctant call of your name did your blood run cold in your veins.

“So, you found out huh?” Was all Childe said. You turn to him slowly and shudder and the unforgiving cold of his stare. Uncaring, unrelenting. Just cold. 

You snapped. 

Your body shook with anger, breathing hard and fast and your eyes widening at the revelation. All you saw that moment was red. Charging at Childe, you throw the false reports at him and grab at his coat. He stares down at you, eyes dark and expression blank. Childe tries to reason with you but you strike him with the adrenaline to kill. It was only fair- he never had sympathy for you anyways.

“You’re not them,” you spit at him, once gentle demeanor now vicious and enraged. “You will NEVER be them!” With all you could muster, you shove Childe again and again, punches and kicks gradually weakening, doing nothing to the Harbinger that towered above you. Childe can only watch you berate and beat at him with worthless fury, and he can do nothing to quell the malice you had towards him. “I hate you! I HATE you!”

‘So close’ was all Childe could think of. He grabs at one of your wrists and you flinch; his jaw tightens at your quick show of fear.

“What? You’re gonna kill me too? Go ahead! Kill me!” You screech at him. Childe can never do that to you. He only wanted you for himself and now that his careless plan backfired, he’ll love the rest of his life with the guilt that he killed someone you loved and that you’ll hate him for as long as you’ll know.

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing Childe could say before releasing his grip and turning to leave. You’re seething in silence watching the man you used to trust turn away from you. You wanted to yell at him, call him a coward, tell him to face you and admit to what he has done. But you were too weak. Instead, you could only cave and cry, screaming your agony into the ground as you felt your heart shatter once more.

Bonus! Albedo

Everyone knew why you were somber. That day, as word came that the Knights of Favonius expedition team were ambushed by Treasure Hoarders colluding with Fatui, every Mondstadtian braced themselves for the worst. You with them. As days bled on and no other update came into the city, everyone had lost hope. Except for you.

You lost the love of your life on a mission where none of the knights returned; it’s only normal for you to grieve. Everyone just presumed they were dead and felt that they had no other choice but to accept that. However, you were one of few to be unable to move on. You spent your days in silence, reminiscing about the past and reliving the grief day and night for months on end. The people of Mondstadt knew not to pressure you into moving on. They knew how much your knight in shining armor meant to you. And so, they let you process your pain at your own pace, even if that meant they saw how bad it really was. 

It was on a particularly troublesome day that you met with Chief Alchemist Albedo in his Dragonspine lab, asking about some elixir to cure your madness. You felt as though you couldn’t handle the pain of your heartache any longer. It kept you up at night, you couldn’t control your tears, everything in your life seemed to remind you about your lover. You were shambles, clearly, and you wanted your pain to cease so you can move on with your life.

“Alchemy can do no such thing,” Albedo says, never looking up from his clipboard. “I suggest you seek a doctor for that.” You sigh in defeat.

“I know, it’s silly,” you mumble, sniffling at the cold. “I guess I was just trying to be hopeful.” Albedo finally looks at you, observing your shuddering form and weary face, curious as to why you would come all this way when you know you’ll just be disappointed. He motions you inside his lab and you nod, following to sit by the fire.

“Tell me about that,” Albedo says. “About how you’re feeling.” You were a little surprised. Nobody has ever asked about how you were since the incident. You least expected that from Albedo of all people. But your emotions were overwhelming and you felt more open to talk about it.

“Do you know what happened?” You ask. Albedo hums.

“I’ve heard about it. About the missing expedition team. Was… someone of importance to you involved?” You pause for a bit and nod solemnly.

“I’ve never felt this… terrible in my life.” You whisper, burying your face in your palms as you force your tears back. Albedo felt that it would be unprofessional of him to try and understand how deeply you feel on a hypothetical level, so he tries his best to comfort you. It’s the least he could do for not having what you came for.

“Has it always been this bad?” He asks.

“No, not always. Some days it’s manageable but most days. I don’t even want to get up anymore.” Your voice trembles as you speak. You feel Albedo’s curious eyes stare you down and you don’t look up, fearing judgment. But when you take a glance, Albedo only looks at you with patience- like every other Mondstadtian that’s witnessed your pain.

“I don’t know how to word this properly, Y/N but, the pain will be gone eventually.” Albedo says. You shake your head

“My pain is the only thing I have left of them. If I move on, what else would I have?”

Albedo didn’t understand it then; you had your memories, pictures, even memorabilia you two had collected together. Why burden yourself and hold onto the pain? He didn’t understand how deeply you truly loved. Maybe if you showed him how, he’ll know.

Albedo originally intended to study your feelings as a means to understand the complications of the emotional spectrum people had. You were his best candidate; you cried, you grieved and at the same time, you laughed and you smiled. It was fascinating to him watching this spectrum unfold in front of him in varying degrees, and before you knew it, you were acquainted with the Chief Alchemist.

He approached you first. After your first meeting, you found yourself with Timaeus and Sucrose a lot- even more so with Albedo. He told you he wanted to conduct a study of sorts- to figure out if there would be a cure for your ‘ailment’. You were a little hesitant at the idea but nevertheless enjoyed the company the Alchemists’ shared with you- it gave you a semblance of normalcy after locking yourself up for so long. 

You liked being around Albedo; his calming disposition made it difficult for you to even think about your sorrow when he’s around. Apart from his usual studies, Albedo let you in on his life when he wasn’t associated with Alchemy. He was incredibly talented when he drew, he was a great cook and an especially kind individual. You were fond of the memories you shared with the Alchemist and slowly saw that his company was enough to soothe you of your grief for a while. Besides, Klee made sure you were never down when she’s around you.

“Fascinating,” Albedo chimes, jotting things down into his clipboard. “It seems that your mood has elevated significantly. Maybe it’s the atmosphere.” The two of you ventured out into Windrise to collect Crystalfly Cores. Albedo thought that the activity would be fun and it was a step for you to ‘broaden your horizons’ as he put it.

“You think so?” You laugh, jumping down from a branch. “That’s good, right?” You land in front of Albedo, a Crystalfly Core in your palm. You’re looking down at it proudly, smiling at your little achievement with a faint glimmer in your eyes as you present Albedo your catch. As he stares at you, something leaps from his stomach; a spring or a jolt that makes his skin prickle with heat. His mouth dries at the sight of you looking so carefree in contrast to the day he first saw you. It was a massive improvement and Albedo couldn’t help but smile at your joy.

“It’s great.”

The next morning, Albedo felt especially giddy. He dropped by Flora’s shop and purchased a handful of Cecilia’s. He never made it clear what (or who) it was for but everyone knew the purpose of them. They were too late to tell him the news. Albedo planned to visit you and talk. He wanted to talk about his feelings, make it clear that the past few weeks were not of research, but he genuinely felt drawn to you. Albedo wanted to be closer to you, have your relationship progress to the next phase. Albedo hoped that maybe he could be the remedy to your grief.

As he braces himself to see you, he is instead greeted by immense disappointment.

“Albedo! I didn’t expect you to visit.” You say, standing up from your seat. Across from you was a Knight, disheveled, dressed in a worn down suit of armor. Your hands were in theirs and you had no intention of letting them go. He looks at you and back at the knight, understanding the situation once he sees the sparkle in your eyes, the small smile on your lips. Your gaze glowed with something he’s never seen before when you spent time together, your aura seeming lighter as soon as he entered, and the inflection of your tone indicating how truly excited you were. Not because he was there, but because of the person before him. Gripping the bouquet tightly, Albedo feels something terrible writhe in his stomach, something you’ve described to him before; something awful and guttural. He feels as though he might vomit from the sensation. Shakily, he tucks the Cecilia flowers away into his coat and forces himself to speak.

“My apologies,” He starts, looking down as he closes your door. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Albedo hoped that by some miracle, you’d call him to come back. But it’s quiet, and Albedo walks alone with the wish still stuck in his mind.

He trudges back up into his lab completely silent. He doesn’t bother to savor his surroundings on such a beautiful day. To you, maybe it was, but to him, the world seemed to laugh at his face. Albedo felt humiliated. He thought that maybe he’d have a chance at being your significant other once you’ve moved on, that maybe he can experience the deep, unwavering passion you had when you loved. Now, he laughs at the idea that you’ll choose him over your lover when he had never been a choice in the first place.

Setting down the bouquet on his desk, Albedo picks up his notes and begins to drown himself in his work. It’s better to distract himself from the pain than to let it fester anyways. He won’t try to find a cure now; he knows through you that this feeling will be the only thing he would have of you. Good or bad, he didn’t care- as long as it meant it resembled something you made him feel.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Someone asks, their footsteps drawing closer. Albedo turns and meets with the gaze of the Knight from your house, your lover. He stops in his tracks and his stomach drops when he sees them. It would have been worse if it were you even if it meant his wish for you to chase him would come true.

“You must be Albedo. I heard about you from Y/N,” The knight says, shaking off the snow from their shoulders. They smile at Albedo kindly and he only returns with a curt nod. “I don’t think you’ve heard but the expedition team made it back and now we’ve reunited.” Albedo looks down and turns away, his grip on his notes tightening as he speaks.

“I see,” he mumbles. “I’m happy for you two.” The silence between them almost felt suffocating. Albedo was grateful for the eerie whisper of the snow but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the question the Knight asked next.

“Did you have feelings for Y/N?” They ask. Albedo flinches but nevertheless stays calm. His skin grows hot and his heart races in his chest, all the while he trembles from the horrible sensation that boils in his stomach.

“Insightful are we?” Albedo says matter-of-factly. Your lover sighs. 

“You can tell me if you liked them, Chief. I won’t be mad.” They say with a chuckle. “I won’t be surprised actually. They’re wonderful.” Albedo only hums in response, pretending to write something down on his notes. You really were wonderful, but he will never say that out loud, not especially in front of them. Your lover shifts awkwardly and Albedo expects them to go, but they move closer and place a hand on his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, thanks for taking care of them.” your lover says, smiling lightly before turning to leave. The corner of Albedo’s lips twitch into a frown. As he watches the knight fade off into the path, Albedo sets his notepad down, tracing the outline of a sketch with his delicate fingers. It was a drawing of you, under the oak tree in Windrise, the life in your eyes glowing as he remembers it. Albedo reminisces the days when your relationship with him grew into what it was and plateaued in the blink of an eye. He’d imagined what it would be like to be loved by you; so incredibly dedicated and genuine. You loved too much for your own good and Albedo admired that about you. He could only wish that that love were for him.

“I’ll do anything for Y/N.”

[ghostwise]

5 with zevran and hamal for the kiss prompts!

5. Where it hurts.

Zevran has spent the better part of the evening lounging attractively on his bedroll, daggers and rags laid out to maintain the illusion of productivity, while carefully listening for footsteps.

He never wants to give the impression that he is waiting for Hamal—nevermind that it’s true. It’s the principle of the matter.

So he’s come to expect the Warden’s visits. So they’ve become part of his routine. What would be the point of saying so? He’ll come or he won’t. And so what if he doesn’t?

Eyeing his daggers with a final disappointed look, Zevran leaves his tent and ventures out to Hamal’s.

The cold bites at his ankles as he walks. He hurries forward with no need for light besides what the moon provides, and when he gets there, he nearly bumps headfirst into the man.

“Oh,” Hamal says, and Zevran’s heart skips a beat. “I was just about to come find you.”

“Oh?” Zevran returns, trying not to seem surprised, or gratified, or dizzy with warm happiness at those words. He smoothly interjects with a laugh. “Then it seems my timing was perfect.”

Ducking into the tent, he slides his arms around Hamal’s shoulders and drops into his lap in one smooth motion. And he kisses him, because he’s been wanting to. And Hamal kisses him back. It’s nearly perfect, but Zevran has honed his instincts out of bitter necessity over the years. There is a barely perceptible slowness to Hamal’s hands.

Zevran pulls back after a moment, and regards him through half-lidded eyes. In the dim light, Hamal looks back at him steadily and smiles.

There is so much he has yet to learn of this man.

And yet, Zevran feels he knows him more than half-way already.

“What’s wrong?”

Hamal’s smile falters slightly. He flicks his gaze downward, and sets his hands at Zevran’s waist. Zevran can feel one of this thumbs squeeze at his hipbone in a very distracting way. Is he stalling? There is no need to. Zevran is hardly one to pry. They can just as easily get back to business.

He spreads his legs a little, grinding down, knees bunching up the blanket beneath them. Hamal’s breath comes out in a low rumble.

“Sore,” he says quietly, and gathers him up in his arms. “Mm, but it’s nothing.”

Zevran thinks.

They’d had a fairly uneventful day. The only trouble had been a brief encounter with a pack of wolves and a bear scavenging the remains of a caravan. The bodies had been half-eaten when they’d arrived—far too late to be any help. The wolves had been easily chased off. But the bear had proven more difficult, and was only brought down after some impressive bow shooting on Hamal’s part.

It occurs to Zevran that just because he makes it look effortless, does not mean it is.

He carefully extracts himself from Hamal’s embrace.

“Hey-” Hamal says, about to protest, but Zevran interrupts.

“Where is the pain?”

“It’s… just beneath my left shoulder blade. A pulled muscle. Nothing more.”

“May I have a look?”

“Going to kiss it better, are you?” Hamal chuckles, stretching out on his bedroll. He tugs his shirt over his head and rolls onto his stomach.

Zevran wastes no time, and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s a lovely sight, vallaslin trailing over his muscled back.

“Tell me where it hurts most,” he says. “Here?” He kisses his left shoulder blade. Hamal gives a soft hum. “Here?” He kisses another spot, closer to his diaphragm. “Here?” He kisses the soft angle of his lateral muscle, and Hamal tenses slightly.

“That’s it.”

“Good…” Zevran murmurs. He swings a leg over, and settles atop Hamal’s lower back. “Is this alright?” he asks before he begins.

The question earns a low laugh. “Better than alright.”

Zevran smiles. He’s snagged a bottle of lightly scented oil from Hamal’s pack, and is just about to begin working those sore muscles of his when Hamal sighs, “I’m glad to have met you.”

Zevran stops.

He does not ask, why?

He does not say, you’d be the first.

He looks at the trusting body beneath him, ignores the odd twist in his gut, and the butterflies in his stomach.

He puts his hands on the Warden’s skin.

“Funny that,” Zevran says. “Me, too.”

[thefalloutwiki]

❓ Question of the Week ❓

Check out more about Fallout universe Caravan Companies here!

[nerdasaurus1200]

A little snippet of Curses!-Journal Edition, a thread with @tangledbea inspired me to flesh out the idea a little bit. And @frozenwolftemplar and @twotangledsisters you guys might like this too.

~~~~

“There it is, everybody! Lombard’s Pass!” Rapunzel announced. She quickly stood up on the caravan seat and pulled her journal out to sketch it. “I gotta say, of all the passes we’ve been on so far, this has to be my favorite.”

“You said the same thing about Sparrow Pass, Blondie.” Eugene teased. He was starting to grow a little uneasy as the pass began to narrow out. Even poor Fidella was on edge, she didn’t make any protest when Pascal hid in her mane. To ease himself, Eugene wrapped an arm around Rapunzel’s waist. Just in case they stumbled, she’d have someone to keep her from falling off the caravan.

“Well yeah, but check this out! It’s like those really old marble games my Uncle Peter likes to play!” Rapunzel pointed out, “See those swaying rock stacks?”

“Those rock stacks are some of the most dangerous in the Seven Kingdoms.” Cassandra reminded, “Nobody’s ever crossed them with a caravan this size. Ugh, I knew I should’ve brought my lucky halberd head for this trip.”

“Okay, so the Pass is a bit, erm….” Rapunzel trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Horrifying?” Hook foot piped up, holding a lucky horseshoe in the direction of the pass.

“Stomach-churning?” Lance added.

“Most likely destination for an early grave?” Cass continued.

“I was actually gonna say risky.” Rapunzel finished, “But it’s gonna feel so rewarding when we finally cross it. And plus, if we wanna stay on the black rock trail, the pass is our best option.”

“Besides, we don’t need anything lucky to get through this, gang!” Eugene piped up, “We’ve faced way worse now than some shaky pile of rocks! We make our own luck!”

“That’s the spirit, Eugene!” Rapunzel cheered.

“Are…are you sure Cass’s maps don’t say otherwi-“ Hook Foot attempted, but Cass cut him off, “Lombard’s Pass. End of story.” which earned a loud exasperated groan from him and Lance.

“Man, this is just like my mom described it, Eugene.” Rapunzel marveled, “She said that the whole thing is naturally occurring, all made of sandstone!”

“That’s…really great, Sunshine.” Eugene faked a smile. Honestly, Eugene was happy that Rapunzel was excited, but sandstone was hardly the most trustworthy rock.

“Raps, would you sit down? You’re freaking me out, you’re gonna fall.” Cass fussed.

“Hey, don’t worry, Cass, i’ve got a hand on her.” Eugene reassured. As if on cue however, suddenly the caravan crashed into a rock. The impact was so great the entire caravan shook. Rapunzel tried to find her footing on the bench, but her heart stopped when she felt her hand was suddenly empty.

“My journal!!” She cried. She scrambled to grab it in time, but it was already flying down the cliff.

“Uh oh…” Cass cringed in sympathy.

“Oh man, Blondie, I’m so sorry.” Eugene held Rapunzel by her waist as the caravan stopped.

“That journal was a present from my mom on my coronation day!” Rapunzel bemoaned, “Okay…okay, if we split up we’ll find it faster. Hook, Eugene, you guys help me find it on the ground.”

“I’ll have Owl fly around for it, maybe it could’ve landed in a tree.” Cass volunteered.

“And I…will supervise!” Lance declared.

“We’ll search for that journal as long as it takes Princess!” Hook Foot declared, “Even if it means we never, EVER cross Lombard’s pass! Ever.” Eugene glared a little; Hook Foot seemed a little too content to stop.

“Sunshine, I hate to say this.” Eugene hopped off the bench and strode over to Rapunzel, “But we should probably move on. I mean don’t get me wrong, the journal was a nice gift. But the pass is gonna take us hours to-….she’s already down there isn’t she?”

“At least it was the journal and not the telescope that she dropped.” Cass pointed out, “A fall like that would’ve smashed it to pieces.” Then her eyes lit up in realization, “Oh! But with a journal it’s paper and leather! Way less likely to be broken or torn apart! Even though that was a really really long fall.”

“….yeah, leave the optimism to Rapunzel, Cass.” Eugene snarked, “I’m gonna need to borrow your climbing daggers.”

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: find in me your rhythm

find in me your rhythm

Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 9k words || complete

Alternate Universe - High Fantasy, dancer Dream, drummer Hob, top!Hob, bottom!Dream, shades of D/s (because they haven’t specifically negotiated such, but that is the flavor), getting together, first meetings, oral sex, face fucking, anal sex, anal fingering, impact play, spanking, light bloodplay, breathplay, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, aftercare

It is rare that caravans ever see each other when they attempt to cross the Southern Wastes. Each group of wagons has their own preferred trails and tricks through the endless, cratered, hostile landscape. Each group has carved out their own path to survival and each group is loathe to share their secrets lest they lose their livelihood. However, while information is more closely guarded than treasure, other things, like food, company, and laughter, are freely given.  So when two caravans do cross paths it is a time of revelry. They will all circle around the fire, passing wine and bread and cheese and fruits amongst them. They will tell stories and sing songs and dance until at least one person falls over. Each caravan will provide the best they can afford and the two sets of strangers will spend a night as friends. It is tradition.

The dancer!Dream/drummer!Hob AU no one asked for but it ate my brain and helped me through my recent Hellknight writer's block. So you should thank this fic just for that. ;)

Also, I am just really happy with my world-building here. So, go me.

[datura-tea]

If you kill any storyline essential character, you get this ending slide Already weakened by several seasons of bad trading, the Happy Trails Caravan Company was devastated by the failure of its expedition. The New Canaanites never reestablished ties with the caravan. Their experiences with outsiders near the Great Salt Lake and in Zion had been far too negative. Within six months, the Happy Trails Caravan Company was bankrupted and dissolved.

OOHHHH OKAY so if you kill joshua and/or daniel, the caravan company stops trading with the new canaanites and the sorrows and the dead horses are free from them? best case scenario tbh