#harvest home wild hunt

[profetizamos]

the autumn equinox isn't a religious observation for me coming from syncretic folk christianity and irish polytheism, but it remains a powerful day for getting some work done. in particular, i managed to do some work with my beloved Convallaria before their folliage dies back and they sleep in the earth for winter. I'm greatful to rattlesnake for lending me power for this year's work and of course, as always, opossum. offerings for these spirits and others who helped me were a seasonal curried butternut squash soup and some Lalande-de-Pomerol.

thank you as always to @graveyarddirt for this and your harvest home hexennacht for letting me find community in my seasonal practice--i love feeling how everyone shares in the solemnity and revelry of this season.

bonus Coprinellus sp. from my equinox nature walk because i loved seeing everyone else's equinox nature shots!

[elvthron]

Preparing for the Autumnal Equinox 🍂

Tw: animal bones below

Went on a hike yesterday, to both feel better aaand see if I could find anything interesting to add to my temporary-outside-altar for Saturday night.

Beautiful leaves becoming orange 🍊

This was the sight of the Corno Piccolo (literally translated into Little Horn, there’s also the Corno Grande, big horn lol) I loved it there but the wind was wild.

(Little black heart is there to prevent any heart attack due to my ugly face)

While getting out of the trail I’ve found lots and lots of animal bones (mixed sizes, so I guessed they used to be some sheep and bovines), probably some rests from a wolf pack hunt (yep we have wolves here in the Appennines).

Brought home this big-probably-bovine vertebra, it was the only thing I gathered even if there were lots and lots of juicy red rosehips too, but I already had those and didn’t want to over-gather something

At the end of the day, I’m probably going to offer things I could easily harvest right outside of my house’s gates: juicy figs, the rosehip previously washed and cleaned. And I’m guessing a full cup of wine could be a fitting offering as well 🍷

[passifloramoonlight]

Cacao to warm your Heart prior to getting witchfaced 🍁✨🫖

[elvthron]

If I may add my fave of the moment 🤎

Blood Ceremony - Widdershins

«Light - it's not season

Night - when you come around

Bright as the dazzling sun

Who's to say? What will you come upon?

While walking widdershins»

Harvest Home Hexennacht: Playlist

Mark your calendars, saddle up your familiars'n'brooms, and get those bonfires prepped - we’re welcoming wild hunt season here on Tumblr sabbat-style and everyone’s invited! 🍃

Joining our hellbound hootenanny? Comment with a fall / harvest / wild hunt themed song you’d like to add to our #Harvest Home Wild Hunt playlist.

🎶 https://youtube.com/playlist/Harvest Home Hexennacht 🎶

[bpdbeehive]

I made a list of every single Greek god ever

Keep in mind some of these may be different from what you know because they have multiple different stories

Eros- god of love, passion, and fertility

Tartarus- god of darkest part in the underworld

Thalassa- goddess of the sea

Phanes- god of creation, new life, procreation, fertility, and light

Caligine- goddess of creation

Gaia- goddess of earth

Erebus- god of darkness and shadows

Nyx- goddess of night and darkness

Pontus- god of the seas

Hydros- god of water

Uranas- god of the heavens and sky

Achlys- goddess of the death-mist, misery, sadness, and deadly poisons

Aether- god of light and the upper sky

Ananke- goddess of inevitability, compulsion, and necessity

Chaos- god of the void

Cronus- god of time, fate, justice, and harvest

Caelus- god of the sky

Coeus- god of the North, intelligence, and resolve

Hemera- goddess of daylight

Hypnos- god of sleep

Nemesis- goddess of vengeance, retribution, and rightful fate

Thalassa- goddess of sea

Rhea- goddess of motherhood, fertility, childbirth, comfort, and good living

Oceanus- god of freshwater

Tethys- goddess of fresh water and nursing mothers

Hyperion- god of heavenly light and watchfulness

Theia- goddess of sight and vision

Lapetus- god of mortal life

Crius- god of constellations, stars, and the south

Phoebe- goddess of intellect, prophecy, and the moon

Themis- goddess of justice, law, order, and divine will

Iris- goddess of rainbows

Mnemosyne- goddess of memory

Zues- god of sky, weather, thunder, lightning, and law and order

Demeter- goddess of the harvest, agriculture, and fertility of the earth

Poseidon- god of sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses

Hades- god of the underworld and the dead

Hera- goddess of women, marriage, family, and childbirth

Apollo- god of sun and light, poetry, healing and disease, justice, archery, music and dance, prophecy and truth

Artemis- goddess of hunting, wild animals, and the wilderness

Aphrodite- goddess of beauty and passion

Ares- god of war and courage

Hephaestus- fire, volcanoes, blacksmithing, metalworking, craftsmanship, sculpture, forges, and metallurgy

Hermes- God of wealth, trade, thieves, and travelers

Athena- goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare

Dionysus- god of wine, festivity, and theater

Hestia- goddess of domestic life, home, and hearth

Hecate- goddess of magic and necromancy

Aeolus- god of the wind

Asclepius- god of medicine and healing

Eris- god of discord, jealousy, and strife

Pan- god of the wild, shepherds, flocks, rustic music, fertility, spring, and theatrical criticism

Eileithyia- goddess of childbirth, birth pains, and midwifery

Enyos- goddess of war, violence, and bloodshed

Evrynomi- water meadows, fertility, and pasturelands

Psyche- goddess of the soul

Hedone- goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Dolos- god of trickery, cunning deception, craftiness, guile, and treachery

Senectus- god of old age

Oizys- goddess of misery, grief, anxiety, and depression

Moros- god of doom

Momus- god of satire and mockery

Tmolus- god of Mount Tmolus

Nereus- god of the sea

Phorcys- god of the sea and the hidden dangers that lurk beneath the waves

Ceto- goddess of sea monsters and other marine life

Eurybia- goddess of power over, and mastery of, the sea

Eurus- god of the east or southeast wind, fall, and storms

Aergia- goddess of laziness, idleness, sloth, and indolence

Eos- goddess of dawn

Astraea- goddess of justice, innocence, purity, precision

Boreas- god of the north wind, winter, storms, ice, snow, and cold

Chione- goddess of snow

Orithyia- goddess of cold mountain winds

Zephyrus- god of West wind

Notos- god of South wind

Euros- god of East wind

Hesperos- god of the evening and the evening star

Morpheus- god of dreams and nightmares

Pasithea- goddess of relaxation and rest

Icelus- god of nightmares

Phantasus- god of dreams that feature inanimate objects

Aigaion- god of violent sea storms

Achelous- god of fresh water

Alpheus- god of the Peloponnese

Clymene- goddess of fame and renown

Eurynome- goddess of water meadows, fertility, and pasturelands

Idyia- goddess of knowledge

Metis- goddess of wisdom and cunning strategies

Styx- goddess of oaths and the River Styx

Helios- god of the sun

Selene- goddess of the moon

Atlas- god of strength, endurance, astronomy, and navigation

Prometheus- god of fire, forethought, and crafty counsel

Astraeus- god of astrology and stars

Pallas- god of witchcraft

Zelus- god of dedication, emulation, eager rivalry, envy, jealousy, and zeal

Nike- goddess of victory

Via- goddess of force and power

Perses- god of destruction

Asteria- goddess of falling stars, nocturnal divination, and the connection between the heavens and the earth

Leto- goddess of motherhood, childbirth, modesty, and fertility

Eirene- goddess of peace

Dike- goddess of fair judgment and law

Persephone- goddess of grain and agriculture

Alatheia- goddess of truth

Asopos- god of the river Asopos

Ate- goddess of blind folly and ruin

Britomartis- goddess of hunting and fishing

Elieithyia- goddess of childbirth

Eirene- goddess of peace

Ersa- goddess of the dew

Eunomia- goddess of good governance

Harmonia- goddess of harmony

Hebe- goddess of youth

Hephaistos- god of smiths

Eunomia- goddess of law, governance, and good order

Kairos- god of opportunity

Aglaia- goddess of beauty, splendor, glory, magnificence, adornment, good health, and the glow of good health

Lakhesis- goddess of life and fate

Phasis- god of the river Phasis

Despoine- goddess of certain Arkadian Mysteries

Macaria- goddess of a "blessed" death

Melinoe- goddess of ghosts, nightmares, and propitiation

Zagreus- god of rebirth

Ploutos- god of wealth, riches, and abundance

Albion- god of the sea

Tilphousia- goddess of vengeance and justice

Phobos- god of fear, panic, flight, and rout

Pothos- god of sexual longing, desire, and yearning

Anteros- god of reciprocal love

Himeros- god of sexual desire and unrequited love

Hermaphroditus- god of effeminacy, androgeny, and hermaphroditism

Rhodos- goddess and personification of the island of Rhodes

Priapus- god of fertility

Erichthonius- goddess of earth

Tyche- goddess of fortune, luck, prosperity, chance, and fate

Horkos- god of oaths and the curse that befalls those who break them

Epione- goddess of soothing pain

Hygieia- goddess of hygiene and cleanliness

Panacea- goddess of universal remedy

Aceso- goddess of healing and wounds

Iaso- goddess of recuperation from sickness

Machaon- god of surgeons

Pandia- goddess of the full moon, dew, and youth

Telesphoros- god of recuperation

Enyalius- god of soldiers and warriors

Phosphorus- god of the planet Venus when it appears as the morning star

Triton- god of the sea

Carpus- god of fruit

Bia- goddess of force, power, might, bodily strength, and compulsion

Narcissus- god of vanity

Cephissus- god of the Cephissus river

Ismenus- god of the river of the same name

Eucleia- goddess of good repute, glory, and honor

Eupheme- goddess of good omen, praise, and acclamation

Euthenia- goddess of prosperity, abundance, and plenty

Philophrosyne- goddess of friendliness, welcome, and kindness

Euphrosyne- goddess of joy, good cheer, mirth, and merriment

Hephaestus- god of artisans, blacksmiths, carpenters, craftsmen, fire, metallurgy, metalworking, sculpture and volcanoes

Delphin- god of Dolphins

Aristaeus- god of beekeeping, cheesemaking, olive growing, and hunting

Electryone- goddess of the sun and morning

Circe- goddess of magic

Silenus- god of forests, wine-making, and drunkenness

Triptolemus- god of agriculture

Lyssa- goddess of rage, fury, and rabies

Soteria- goddess of safety, salvation, deliverance, and protection from harm

Leucothea- goddess of hope

Palaemon- god of harbors and sharks

Pasiphae- goddess of witchcraft and sorcery

Perses- god of destruction and peace

Phaunos- god of the forest

Maron- god of Maroneia

Astraeus- god of stars and planets

Limos- goddess of famine, starvation, and hunger

Benthesikyme- goddess of ocean waves

Amphitrite- goddess of the sea

Kymopoleia- goddess of violent sea storms and storm waves

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 1. Captive of your desires

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: choking and death threats

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— A/N: I couldn't resist. I had to write more for him. Reader, I love him. This fic might go a little wild, because I want to play into this naughty boy's love for pain. Expect some subby Feyd, some inkpies, generally a messed up dynamic with an equally messed up reader. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies! 🖤

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty. — Bene Gesserit Coda

House Harkonnen fell upon Arrakis like a hammer — with a deafening crash and destructive reverberation. After the palace was ransacked and the most important figures murdered, their bodies piled high and set alight, the stragglers were hunted through the streets and homes of Arrakeen. There was a week of slaughter. By the end, nothing moved. All spice production had ceased. Then the violence left the city and spread out into the desert, and the whole hemisphere of the planet was captured.

Arrakeen sat near the northern pole, on thick bedrock surrounded by natural fortifications that protected it from worm attacks. It was a difficult place to escape from. Those who remained were understood to be loyal to the Harkonnens, or at least indifferent to who held the power. The Atreides rule had been brief enough to not have garnered that many supporters. Only the rumour of their goodness and grace had been planted, and the Harkonnens returned before those could take root.

There can be said to have been a second Harkonnen takeover once Feyd-Rautha arrived. The Baron’s youngest nephew. Word was spread — or rather, been carefully planted — that he was the kinder, gentler of the Harkonnen brothers. The people greeted him like a saviour. Inside the palace, the atmosphere was more subdued.

It was a stark contrast to the transition from when Rabban came to power. No mass killings, no ransacking of rooms, just an orderly takeover through which the cold and calculating presence of Feyd-Rautha flowed. Furniture was rearranged. Staff was brought in from Giedi Prime. Brand new equipment arrived, especially for the spice harvesters.

The message was clear. The new planetary governor was thorough and exacting. Most of those in the palace breathed a sigh of relief, but there was at least one breath that stuttered.

She was there at his arrival, watching from a distance together with the throng of Arrakeen locals, Fremen and others, who gathered to see the procession. It was early in the morning, just before sunrise. He walked differently than other Harkonnen she’d seen. Rabban stomped through like a bull. The servants grovelled. The Baron was so fat he had to be suspended in the air. But this one, this one strolled through with confidence. Sleek and slender, he was beautiful in an inhuman way. That much she could make out from a distance.

He struck out at Fremen sietches on his very first day, using artillery fire and on-the-ground troops. An old way of doing things, but effective. It painted the new governor as precise, determined, and strangely honourable, and then word spread around the palace that he’d struck his own brother to the ground and made him kiss his feet. The word ‘humiliation’ was uttered. The news sewed a sliver of hope in the hearts of the longsuffering palace staff.

She had evaded close contact with the Harkonnens until then. It only made sense, as she was in hiding, slipping through the cracks of their negligence until she could procure safe passage off-planet, but that was getting more difficult by the day. What they lacked in caution, they made up for in paranoia, and all comings and goings were kept behind esoteric layers of bureaucracy. She was in the process of making contact with a smuggler when Feyd-Rautha gained governorship of the planet, and all her hopes were dashed.

It was the evening of his second day on the planet when she was called. The servant that summoned her looked at her like she was an apparition — which, in a way, she was. She had managed to remain undetected, keeping herself busy, staying out of sight, acting like she was meant to be there. She’d become part of the scenery and could dispel suspicion if anyone got too close. Her Bene Gesserit training was good for that if nothing else. But there was no escaping this. Somebody had finally found her and knew exactly where she was.

She followed the servant — a heavily armed pasty-white figure, crooked and willowy — to the chamber door of what she knew to be the largest office of the governor. He opened it for her, pushed her in, and locked the door behind her.

Like a tiny sun, a glowglobe floated through the room, its light falling on the smooth black surfaces of the furniture and the pale stone of the walls. She folded her hands before her, hidden by the long sleeves of her dress, and followed what the light revealed. The room was large and windowless, stripped bare of any useless item. The table was empty, the chairs were in their place, and upon the plinths set in the corners, no potted plants or works of art stood. Only one thing moved there, together with the light. Feyd-Rautha paced slowly, quietly, on the other side of the room.

“My lord na-Baron,” she said in a smooth and submissive voice. Her knees bent in a slight curtsy — respectful, but not too much. “You summoned me.”

She wore a garb that didn’t belong to any particular function. The long black dress would have fit just as well in the kitchens as in the cleaning staff, and the head covering was suited for the Arrakis weather, worn by any female. All of those with hair, anyway. The light material bent around her, giving her a slightly oval shape, soft and harmless. But when she looked up and caught the na-Baron’s gaze, he would have seen a sharper look there than that of any servant.

His eyes were cunning too. They looked upon her knowingly and with amusement, a strange manner for a Harkonnen.

“Who are you?” he asked with a playful squint.

His voice scratched across her skin like kitten claws. He didn’t sound the way he looked, and she admitted it surprised her. His tone, nevertheless, was gentle. Deceitfully kind. He could kill me in an instant, she thought, and take pleasure from it.

“My lord, I —”

“You were not on Rabban’s stafflist. I know that, because he didn’t have one. And you’re not on mine, because I didn’t ask for you. We have as of today an account of all the palace workers, but the list comes up with one extra room unaccounted for.”

Nights in Arrakeen were cold, but her skin just turned colder. What rotten luck, to be in the palace right when they decided to actually investigate who worked there and did what. It’s my own fault, she said to herself. I relied on their incompetence for far too long. Now I pay the price. So be it.

“I have been a servant in this palace for many years, my lord na-Baron,” she said with a slow bow of her head. “And I wish to serve you as well.”

“Is that so?” he purred, coming closer. His steps were lazy, but the pace was measured. He had more control over his body than his playful swagger let on. “Many years, you say? You worked for the Atreides, then?”

“And for Count Fenring before them.”

He stopped. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes and smiled in quiet satisfaction. Lady Fenring was a skilled Bene Gesserit sister and had lived in Arrakeen with her husband for many years before the Atreides decided on it for their capital. She was the most logical choice as a secret envoy to the Harkonnen heir. And if Feyd-Rautha met her, it could only mean one thing.

Uroshnor, she thought. He’s likely been imprinted with the usual prana-bindu phrase. It would stun him, if only for a moment. But long enough… It didn’t provide her a means of escape, but it gave her hope. It gave her room for manoeuvre.

“I am not a spy,” she said, straightening her back.

“Of course, a spy would say that.”

“You may test me in any way you wish,” she said with a playful chuckle.

Feyd’s eyes darkened at her proposition, a smile bending his full lips as he stepped closer. Oh, he could think of many ways to test her…

“What are you, then?” he asked, his voice scratching low and close as he stopped close enough to touch.

She could see now that his eyes were a clear blue. Not the sort of blue brought on by long-term spice exposure, that dark electric shade, but blue like water, like the sky, like a shard of ice. His jawline was firm — that of a biter. But his lips were pillow-soft and curled around the edges in a smile that wouldn’t go away. Lips made for laughing, made for kissing, made for love. He’s such a delicate boy. The thought ran through her mind before she realised.

“I served the Lady Fenring as a housekeeper,” she said.

“Lies.”

“My lord?”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? A damn witch.”

She remained completely still, her eyes locked on his. He was trying to dominate her with a hard incessant glare, but she held his gaze merely for the pleasure of it. What a comforting colour they were on such a harsh planet… No matter the malice behind them.

“You’re a Bene Gesserit. I’ve met your kind before,” he continued, looking down her body in a cruel, suggestive way. “You hold yourselves the way no other women do.”

“Perpans not like Harkonnen women.”

He chuckled, the sound scraping up his slender neck. “All women in the known universe are the same, given the right circumstances.”

“But not the Bene Gesserit.”

“Yes, not you,” he sighed, head tilting as if his mind was trying to escape a painful memory.

His eyes stayed upon her figure, trailing down the contours of her dress. Then he reached out a hand and touched it, his fingers tracing a silky pleat so lightly that it barely moved. She felt it still, the slight disturbance his caresses caused, but willed her body to stay motionless. There was no trace of aggression in him now.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“You have not dismissed me, my lord na-Baron.”

He chuckled faintly. “I mean on Arrakis.”

“I wish to remain in the palace.”

“Why?”

“The deserts are harsh.”

“Many prefer that to serving a Harkonnen.”

“One master is as good as another.”

“I’m sure it must’ve felt like that to you,” he said, looking her in the eye again. His fingers left her dress and went to rest upon the hilt of a dagger at his belt. “So I take it you were one of Lady Fenring’s servants. A… fellow sister, would you call it?”

“I was part of her staff, yes.”

“And you didn’t leave with her and the Count when the Atreides came?”

“I remained behind to assist with training their staff,” she said with a bow of her head. Even now she retained a certain respect for that dead House.

“And Lady Fenring,” he hissed, the name dripping from his mouth like poison, “she never wanted to retrieve you?”

“I believe they think me dead.”

“Yes, she is not the sentimental sort,” he chuckled, and his cold gaze caught hers.

A dangerous thought was taking root behind those eyes, she could see it germinating. She waited, reading his body, scanning the minute changes in his expression, and tried to determine what went on behind that pallid mask.

There was envy there, and regret, and longing. The Harkonnens never kept Bene Gesserit truthsayers, nor were there any among the Baron’s concubines — all of them were young boys anyway. They were unique among the Great Houses in that way, and although she knew that Feyd’s mother had been a Bene Gesserit herself, he probably didn’t know what it was like to be raised by one. Why else would he be looking at her now as if he wanted to peel her clothes away, and then her skin, and reach toward her heart and grab it?

“How can I help my na-Baron?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her gaze a caress.

“By not getting above yourself,” he rasped with the air of slapping her offer away.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she bowed her head to hide her terror. Did I read him wrongly? she thought to herself. I must not fear.

“House Harkonnen has no use for witches,” said Feyd.

She felt his strong hand grip her shoulder, slipping past the veil to curl around her neck. He stayed there, holding her in a half-choke just firm enough to feel her heartbeat in the palm of his hand.

“I ought to kill you,” he said sweetly, “and feed you to my darlings.”

Her lips parted, swelling slightly, and she felt her face go pale. The little death takes on a whole new meaning, she thought with grim amusement.

“But I do want to know one thing…”

“Yes, my na-Baron?” she asked in a shaky voice.

He breathed in sharply at the sound of it. He liked it. When she looked up into his eyes again, the grip around her throat felt not so much murderous anymore as it did greedy, possessive.

“I want to know… Do you have one of those pain boxes too?”

[the-mortuary-witch]

WAYS TO CELEBRATE THE SABBATS

IMBOLC (CANDLEMAS)

Clean your home and space to welcome the coming of spring.

Bake a traditional Imbolc loaf of bread or other seasonal foods.

Use the colours white and yellow in your decorations and outfits.

Light a bonfire or light candles to represent the returning light.

Plant seeds or bulbs to symbolize the rebirth of nature.

Perform a ritual to honour the coming of spring and ask for protection and blessings.

Make a Brigid's cross or other handcrafted decorations with herbs and other natural materials.

Perform a blessing of your home and surroundings with holy water or smoke cleansing.

Set up an altar or sacred space to honour the Celtic goddess Brigid, associated with Imbolc.

Make Brigid's bed, a traditional ritual of placing straw under your bed to bring fertility and growth into your life.

Connect with nature and spend time outside to honour the changing season.

OSTARA (SPRING EQUINOX)

Participate in fertility rites and rituals to celebrate the coming of spring and the planting season.

Decorate your altar or sacred space with symbols of Ostara, such as eggs, bunnies, daffodils, and pastel colours.

Perform a spring cleaning of your home and life, releasing old habits and welcoming new beginnings.

Light a fire or light candles to honour the return of lighter, longer days.

Bake a traditional honey cake or other seasonal sweets to celebrate the sweetness of spring. 

Plant seeds or herbs for new growth and prosperity.

Go for a nature walk or hike to connect with the natural world.

Participate in an egg hunt or egg rolling, traditional Ostara games 

Perform a protection spell or ritual to honour the increasing light and longer days.

Practice self-care rituals to nourish and rejuvenate your mind and body.

BELTANE (MAY EVE)

Celebrate the fertility of the earth with bonfires and rituals honouring the fire god, Belenos.

Make a maypole and decorate it with colourful ribbons.

Participate in a maypole dance, a traditional celebration of fertility and joy.

Make a wish list and tie it to a tree on Beltane eve.

Collect flowers, especially May blossom or hawthorne flowers, and make a garland or crown to wear.

Create a flower crown or wear one made of wildflowers to honour the faery folk and fertility spirits.

Perform a ritual to bless your home and land for prosperity and protection.

Jump over the Beltane bonfires, symbolizing jumping over obstacles and embracing new beginnings.

Have a picnic or gathering with friends and family to celebrate the abundance and growth of the season.

Create a sacred space or altar for Beltane, decorat with flowers, herbs, and other nature-related objects.

Perform a cleansing ritual to rid yourself of negative energy and welcome the energy of new beginnings.

Make a bouquet of wildflowers or herbs, and hang it on your front door to welcome the spirits of Beltane.

Go for a walk in the woods or a natural setting and connect with the beauty and energy of the season.

LITHA (SUMMER SOLSTICE/MIDSUMMER)

Participate in a bonfires or lighting a sacred fire, celebrating the arrival of the longest day of the year.

Collect herbs and flowers, especially ones associated with the sun, such as calendula, yarrow, and St. John's wort, and make a solstice garland.

Perform a ritual to honour the sun and ask for protection and blessings.

Dance around the bonfire or engage in other traditions associated with the Summer Solstice, such as singing and drumming.

Have a solstice feast, filled with summer bounty, seasonal foods, and family.

Celebrate in the natural world, go for a walk, or have a picnic during the longest day.

Honour the Celtic goddess Litha, associated with the Summer Solstice. 

Start summer resolutions. 

Get your hands dirty and embrace the earth. Consider planting a vegetable garden for fall harvest or add to your flower garden to mark the occasion. 

LAMMAS (LUGHNASADH)

Baking bread. 

Crafting corn dolls. 

Pick wild flowers. 

Honour the earth and the cycles of nature. 

Perform Sun magick. 

Give thanks to the spirits and/or deities for the beginning of the harvest season. 

Collect and honour the first fruits of the harvest, such as grains, corn, and apples.

Perform a ritual to honour Lugh and thank the gods and goddesses for the harvest.

Hold a harvest festival or feast, sharing the bounty of the land with family and friends.

Make a Lughnasadh altar or shrine with symbols of the harvest, such as corn, grains, and apples.

Participate in a traditional Lughnasadh celebration, such as a harvest dance or ritual.

Collect herbs and plants for healing and protection, as Lughnasadh is traditionally a time for preparing for the winter months.

MABON (AUTUMN EQUINOX/FALL HARVEST)

Celebrate the balance between light and dark, and the onset of the harvest season.

Honour the Celtic god Mabon, associated with the Autumn Equinox.

Participate in a harvest celebration, collecting and honouring the fruits of the land.

Make a corn dolly or a straw figure as a reminder of the abundance of the harvest.

Perform a ritual to honour the balance of the seasons and thank the gods and goddesses for their blessings.

Spend time writing in your journal. You could reminisce about your summer experiences, reflect on the shifts you feel with the changing season, contemplate what you're ready to release, or express gratitude for the blessings in your life.

Participate in a nature walk or ceremony, taking time to connect with the natural world and the turning of the seasons.

Enjoy your favourite fall beverages. 

Make a gratitude list or write a gratitude letter, expressing your appreciation for the abundance and beauty of the harvest season.

Connect with nature. 

Bring the beauty of fall indoors by decorating your home with seasonal touches. 

Performing a gratitude or release ritual. 

SAMHAIN (ALL HALLOWS/FINAL HARVEST)

Carving pumpkins with friends. 

Relax and watch some horror movies. 

Treat yourself to sweets. 

Participate in a haunted house, hayride, or corn maze event.

Declutter/organize your home. 

Focus on letting go to make space for the new year. 

Collecting leaves. 

Bake treats that contain pumpkin. 

Creating a spooky, atmospheric decor for your home or workspace, such as cobwebs, faux spiders, and other creepy décor items.

Gathering friends and loved ones for a Samhain feast, feasting on symbolic foods like apples, pumpkin, or corn.

Visit a local pumpkin patch. 

Making personalized altar items and decorative pieces for your sacred space, such as witch jars, mandalas, sigils, symbols of the harvest, items associated with death, etc. 

Participating in a divination practice like tarot reading, scrying, or rune casting to gain insight and connect with the energy of the night.

Go to a harvest festival or carnival.

Hold a Samhain seance or mediumship session to contact the spirits of loved ones who have passed on.

Participate in a potluck dinner with witches and pagans, dressing in traditional Samhain garb.

RESPECTFULLY visit a graveyard. 

YULE (WINTER SOLSTICE/MIDWINTER)

Burn a Yule log. 

Make an evergreen Yule wreath.

Decorate a Yule tree. 

Make a Yule wish list or a Yule resolution, as Yule is a time of reflection and intention setting.

Practice Yule carol singing, participating in a community sing-along or carolling event.

Celebrate in candle light. 

Give back to nature. 

Exchange nature-based gifts. 

Host a feast for those you love with foods associated with Yule, such as: roast goose, Yule ham, nuts, berries, spices, squash, and potatoes. 

Eat or make/bake Yule ham, gingerbread, mulled wine, roast goose, spiced cakes, shortbread, snowball, caraway, ginger snaps, honey cakes or pastries, and biscuits. 

Eat or give sweets flavoured with nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, or peppermint. 

Participate in the longest night of the year and prepare for the return of the light.

Honour deities associated with Yule, such as Odin, Baldur, Hel, Loki, Sol, Freyr, Njörðr with lights, candles, and bonfires.

Participate in a Yule spell or ritual, asking for blessings and protection for the coming year.

Decorate your home with evergreen boughs and wreaths, representing the evergreen nature of the sun and eternal life.

Host a Yule log ceremony. 

Participate in an outdoor activity, like sledding or ice skating, to honour the winter season.

[la-bruja]

to the fairest

i saw the other poll and thought we should have some more options

ATHENA: goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and military victory

APHRODITE: goddess of love, and fertility

HERA: goddess of marriage, family childbirth and women

HESTIA: goddess of hearth and home, and the sacrificial flame

PERSEPHONE: goddess of spring

DEMETER: goddess of harvest and agriculture

ARTEMIS: goddess of the hunt, the wild, and the moon

NIKE: goddess of victory

HECATE: goddess of witchcraft, and crossrkads

CIRCE: goddess of sorcery and illusion

MELINOE: goddess of ghosts and nightmares

MESPERYIAN: goddess of torture and punishment

[kitsuneregin]

Blood Crown 3 (Yandere!King!San x Servant!Reader)

Warning:// Threats of child death

Morning would come quickly as you made the bed neatly and put back on your clothes, you walked downstairs with the used silks and placed them in the washing room. You quietly walked out the room and towards the kitchen to write a thank you letter to the nice gentlemen who aided you. You're startled by the presences of the two already awake, Seonghwa was cooking breakfast as Hongjoong sat at the dining table and drank his coffee. "Ah good morning Y/n" Hongjoong happily greeted. You nod to Hongjoong and Seonghwa who nods back to you.

"I'm taking my leave now, I thank you both for allowing the night here" You say, Hongjoong worriedly looks to Seonghwa who looks just as concerned. "What about Wooyoung's kingdom?" Hongjoong asked getting up from his seat and walking to you, he knew he had to keep you with him and Seonghwa, for both of their sakes. "I'll travel by foot, I need to head north is all" you say, Hongjoong could see the hesitant in your eyes, you had no idea where you're going.

"Nonsense, a young woman like you shouldn't be traveling alone, we're heading towards King Wooyoung's kingdom to get back home, join us" you felt relief in your heart at Hongjoong's offer. Seonghwa looked back to the food as he started forming a plan in his head. The three of you would enjoy breakfast together and soon you were standing near the carriage of the two as they brought their bags out. You reached to take the bags but Seonghwa pulled away "A woman shouldn't be carrying heavy bags, get in the carriage and rest" he said.

You hesitate for a moment before subcumming to the older male and getting into the back of the carriage, Hongjoong pulled one his men over "Take a horse and ride to King San's kingdom, tell him we're heading towards King Wooyoung's kingdom, we'll be just outside the territory by the time the message reaches him" the man nodded as he took a spare horse and rode away, you noticed and question why one of Hongjoong and Seonghwa's helper would be riding opposite of them.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa climbed into carriage as the driver whipped the reigns and began moving north, the ride was mostly silent with the occasional quiet small talk coming from the couple. You felt awkward almost invasive to them, they were kind enough to let you rest for the night and now they're driving you towards Wooyoung's kingdom. You wanted to repay them somehow.

.

.

.

Back in the Kingdom Light chaos was spreading like wild fire, with you on the lamb civilans suffered, no one was to leave the kingdom, traders who traveled for work were running low on funds, harvesters coudln't scrounge the forest for berries, nor could hunters go on camps to hunt for wild boars and larger animals. Knights would barge into civilians home and ransack the place in search of you. Though many civilians didn't know of your existence many began to despise you, some even wished death on you.

In the castle San sat angrily in his office, he was accompanied by his fellow kings, Jongho, Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho. "Where is Wooyoung" San asked wanting his closest friend with him at this moment. "His wife is due to give birth to his first born soon, he doesn't want to take travel if the issue is not urgent" Jongho explained. San scoffed "The issue is urgent" San said, Yunho was the first to ask "What might it be" San took a deep breath "A betrothed of mine has ran away, I want her back" the room was silent for a moment as the king's pondered on their next words.

Mingi opened his mouth first "Who exactly is your betrothed? Can't be any of princess available, they're either too young or already set to be married...San, tell you haven't fallen for a peasant girl" San clenched his jaw never looking Mingi in the eye. This was all the kings needed to know, Yunho sighed, Yeosang rubbed his aching head, Jongho ran his hands down his face, and Mingi stared at San disappointed "She was my servant...she's very beautiful, I want her" San queitly explained. "Are you out of your mind?" Yeosang hissed, the other kings looked to the quiet king. "San you know you can't marry a servant, the council will riot, this can open doors to so many other things, what if other low life's begin to think they can just marry into Royalty? Chaos will spread faster than we can stop it"

Yeosang's words weighed heavy on the angry King, he hated how right Yeosang was, San knows that if he openly marrys you he could opening the doors hell. The thought of you getting married to someone else though, made San boil with anger. "By the way where is Hongjoong and Seonghwa?" Jongho asked noting the eldest couple missing. "They're on honeymoon" San answered, the quintet sat in silence once more, "San, does this servant mean so much to you? Are you willing to deal with everything Yeosang said for this servant" Yunho asked. "Yunho you can't be serious" Jongho sighed. San pondered for a moment, "Yes she means everything to me" San answered.

Yunho nodded "I’ll send a small number of my men to help find her" the other kings tried not to groan in annoyance, “thank you” San said softly. Yunho looked to the others as they all slowly mumbled to help San. The meeting was adjourned as the kings went for a stroll in the garden, Johnny was out on watch, his mind wondered to you hoping you were safe out in the wilderness.

“Have you heard the horrors going on in the village” Mark his friend whispered. “Rumors have it the foot knights are destroying homes and businesses for this missing girl, villagers are getting angry by the day, some have even gone out to search for her themselves to end this madness” Mark said, Johnny didn’t respond as he didn’t want to get too involved in the hunt. “There’s even a Barron who’s giving out cash reward for retrieving her 1,000 gold…man if I had money like that” Johnny cut him off, “you’ll still be working for the king, don’t let riches blind you they’re only temporary, besides let the girl be she obviously had a reason to leave” Johnny stated bluntly.

“Reason to leave? How would you know” Mark questioned. “Who would flee a castle where your roomed, fed, clothed, and taken care of 24 hours 7 days, and all in return you do some chores around the castle…unless you’re being abused by tyrant king” Johnny mumbled the last part but was heard by mark who looked surprised. “Johnny do you know something?” Mark asked now curious what his friend is hiding, Johnny bit his lip not wanting to speak anymore. “Come on, if you know something let me in on it, I’ll stay quiet” Mark begged.

Johnny shook his head “leave it be Mark” Johnny sighed, “Johnny please! What do you know about the missing girl…did you know about her escape” Mark gasped. “What’s this about an escape” the voice of San startled the two knights as they turned to see the 5 kings staring at them. “Your majesty” the two bowed to San, Johnny began to feel nervous. “What is this about you knowing the whereabouts of the missing servant” San walked up to Johnny, the knight gulped as he stammered “was nothing but idle gossip sir” Johnny explained shaken, San smirked “why are you shaking? If it was just simple gossip there’s nothing to fear” San patted the armored knight’s shoulder. Johnny nodded trying to control his feelings.

“Johnny you have a wife correct, and a 2 year old son?” Johnny paled at the information. “Yes sir” he whispered. San chuckled “Then you understand, not wanting to lose something so precious correct?” Johnny nodded weakly. “Good! Then you’ll understand the heartbreak I feel everyday the women I love isn’t beside me…” Johnny eyes widened as San turned to one of the other knights in the garden “Go to his family house and kill all of them inside, even the child” Johnny felt tears well in his eyes.

Johnny dropped to his knees “Please don’t, sir, I beg spare my family, torture me, demote me, kill me even, please don’t hurt my wife and child they’re innocent” Johnny begged. San scoffed “That desperate? Fine…take him to the chambers” San ordered. Johnny was shackled and dragged away from his post. Yunho, Jongho, Mingi, and Yeosang all looked at each other all wearing a face of concern or horror. “Gentlemen, I apologize for the sudden departure but I have some serious business to attend to” San smiled wickedly leaving his friends behind.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 36: The End **

I am glad you are here with me, here at the end of all things, Sam. Frodo Baggins - The Return of the King

Series Master List

Epilogue Warnings have their own post - Word count: 17.5k (I saved the longest for last 😊)

Having electricity wasn’t a new thing to you both, the QZ’s had electricity, albeit black outs where common. But electricity in Jackson, in a community where everyone worked towards a common goal of making things better, it was like a return to a more normal life. Supplies were still scarce, daily hunting trips a necessity, but suddenly you could cook food, freeze it, preserve it and lay away stores for the winter. A large cold storage had already been built and as the summer drew to an end and the trees started to shift in color, it was being filled with the harvest of the community garden and the berries collected in the wild during hunting trips. And all the projects picked up speed when power tools could be maintained and used. Although Frankie cursed the raw blisters on his hands after he and a few other of the strongest men had worked at felling trees by hand, fuel was still a rarity so axes had to be used for that.

But it was also the simple act of coming home and the house, yours and Frankie’s house, being lit up by lamps, the warmth hitting you as you opened the door and the smell of cooking drifted out along with music, actual vinyl record music.

You poke your head around the corner, into the living room, and find Frankie hunched over, holding on to Jack’s chubby hands, as the baby’s unsteady legs wobble with each step.

“C’mon, Jack, look at you go!” Frankie smiles, “You’ll be walking in no time, gordito!”

Jack gurgled, grinning widely, proudly showing his two tiny teeth, the sources of many sleepless nights lately. Frankie looks up as you step into the room, turning Jack around to face you.

“C’mon, Jackie, walk to your mamá, show her how good you are,” he gives you a wide grin, “He’s been standing up all afternoon, holding onto the couch.”

“You’re growing so fast, Jack,” you smile, crouching down as he wobbles towards you, holding onto Frankie’s hands. The baby stumbles into your chest and grabs onto your hair as you pick him up, holding him tight and kissing his chubby cheek. Being Jack’s mamá had become second nature, the little boy inserting himself into your life just as easily as Frankie and you had settled in Jackson.

You’d worried briefly over how Frankie would fare with sleepless nights, his nightmares and troubled sleep hadn’t gone away. But it was as if his body clicked into another gear, remembering sleepless nights with his own daughter. He’d be wide awake as soon as Jack whimpered, out of the bed and picking him up before you’d barely opened your eyes. Half asleep you’d listen as Frankie padded around the room across the hall, soothing Jack, singing endless renditions of Arroz con Leche until even you knew it by heart. On the nights when Jack just wouldn’t settle, Frankie would take him downstairs, heat up some baby food, usually berries with some sweet honey, and wander through the house with Jack in his arms until he fell asleep again. And then he’d tuck Jack back in and you’d briefly wake up as he slipped under the covers, reaching out and curling himself around you. You’d grumble as his cold skin met your bed warm body but he’d just bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as your hair tickled his nose. It would put you right back to sleep, his body slowly warming up, his arms around you and his hand in yours as you felt his hot breath over your neck.

It was the most domestic it had ever felt since the outbreak, sometimes you woke up forgetting it had even happened. You’d blink your eyes open to sunlight filtering in through the curtains, a soft pillow under you, Frankie’s arm around you and clean sheets and blankets on top. If Frankie had snuck up and left the bed before you woke up, you’d smell breakfast from downstairs, frying eggs, warm bread, even jam. The crackle of the fireplace would drift up to you as you pulled your robe on and walked on bare feet down the stairs. You’d stop at the entrance to the kitchen, just like you did when you came home, and just take in the sight of Frankie, your husband, making breakfast for Jack, your son, like it was the most normal thing to do and the outbreak had never happened. It made your heart warm and you could watch the scene for hours. But it also made you realize how much you had to lose, now more than ever, and it scared you. You knew both you and Frankie would fight tooth and nail to protect this life that Jackson offered its small, but growing, population, because this was worth fighting for, more than just fighting for Frankie and yourself.

…

The first time Pat took you and Frankie up to the radio tower it was a beautiful morning. You’d left baby Jack with Maria before heading out. The first snow had fallen over Jackson and the surrounding mountains overnight and the weather had turned properly cold. It had taken longer than planned to get out to the radio tower, many things needed to be prepared before the winter in order for the community to survive. With the electricity up and running, alot projects took priority. Houses were mended and isolated, two women with medical training needed help setting up a small clinic, the stable had to be completed and isolated. On top of that were the necessary and constant patrols and guard shifts almost everyone had to participate in as well as going hunting with Pat.

But now, finally, you were on your way up to the radio tower to see if the radio could be made to work. If not, Pat thought it would be good to have a safe house on one of the patrol routes where patrols could seek shelter if they needed too. With you was another Jackson resident, an older man called Eugene. He was a former electrical engineer and to be honest, you thought your participation on this mission might be pointless, if Eugene couldn’t fix the radio, you didn’t think you’d be able to either.

The entire radio tower compound had at some point been surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire on top. It looked in pretty bad disrepair by now and was pulled down in places.

“It’d be good if we could get that fixed,” Pat says, looking at the fence, “get a gate in place and make this place a bit more secure.”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded, “we still have plenty of fence and barbed wire down in the Jackson HomeDepot, pretty sure we could build a gate too.”

You were on Winston together with Frankie for this ride. You were slowly learning to be a better rider and had been practicing whenever you had time, but you preferred riding with Frankie when you had to go outside Jackson. You felt safe sitting in front of him, he had one steady arm around your waist, the other holding the reins. Now you feel him move his hips and nudge Winston onwards, through the main gates and into the small yard in front of the entrance.

“Has anyone been into the radio tower recently?” Frankie asks, looking at the door that’s hanging off its frame and half open.

“No, not since we first came up here,” Pat says as he swings himself off his horse after stopping by the fence, “We’re going to need to clear it out carefully.”

Frankie keeps an eye on the door as Eugene gets off his horse but makes no move to let you get off, “Was the door always open?” he asks, pulling the rifle from its holster and Pat turns around, furrowing his forehead as he looks at the door.

“We had to break it open when we first came up here, but I’m sure we closed it when we left.”

You can feel Frankie tense up behind you as Pat carefully approaches the door, gun raised. He bends and picks up a brick from the ground and tosses it in through the door. A shriek cuts through the air, making the horses skittish, and then the tell tale sound of a clicker.

“Fuck…” Frankie breathes behind you and Pat hastily retreats and swings himself up on his horse. You’ve got your gun raised too now and when the door slams open, the clicker is hit with several rounds, two shots exploding through its head, making it drop on the ground.

All four of you sit in silence, waiting to hear if something else stirs on the inside. After a few minutes Pat gets off his horse again and approaches the door, you can’t help but wonder if he’s really brave or really stupid, but he nudges the dead clicker out of the way and shines his torch into the darkness.

Behind you, you feel Frankie press a kiss to the side of your neck, “Stay here, cariño,” he whispers before he slides off and quietly walks up behind Pat, joined by Eugene, who’s also gotten off his horse again.

“If I remember correctly, there’s a light switch just inside here,” Pat says, and feels around just inside the door. It clicks and the room fills with light and nothing stirs. Frankie waves you towards him and you tie up Winston and join them.

“Eugene, no offense,” Pat says, “but you’re the oldest and least nimble here, could you stay and watch our backs?”

“No offense taken,” Eugene chuckles and takes up post at the door, looking out at the horses and the front yard while Frankie, you and Pat move towards the inner door. It’s a wide double door and it’s undisturbed.

“We did close this one too, hopefully nothing else got in,” Pat says in a low voice as he reaches for it. It opens without issue and nothing moves on the other side. Silently and carefully the three of you go through the building, clearing out rooms and gathering any supplies you come across until you reach the main radio room on the second floor.

“This seems to be the way we left it too,” Pat says and you walk over to the radio. It’s not a military radio but it’s different from the one you worked on in Boston but it doesn’t take you and Frankie long to start it up. The electricity cables from the Jackson Dam run up here too and the console hums to life, but when you flip the switches to receive or broadcast, all you hear is silence, not even static.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, “but if you could check all the wires Frankie, and I’ll check that equipment does what it should.”

“Sure, cariño,” Frankie says and while Pat scans the top floor for any supplies, you and Frankie work through the radio.

“I’m gonna go get Eugene,” you finally sigh, on your back underneath the console, “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong if all the wires are connected and all the equipment works, something else is up.”

“Ok, I’m just gonna double check the connection from the outside, up on the radio tower,” Frankie says as he gives you a hand up from the floor. You jog down the stairs and back towards the front door. Perplexed, you stop by it and look around, Eugene isn’t there but you can’t see any other footsteps in the snow so you turn and look into the building, his snow covered footprints are moving off towards one of the rooms you cleared coming in.

“Eugene?” you call, walking towards the back. You’ve cleared this area so you’re not too worried, but there’s always a risk of the crumbling building deciding to collapse a floor or a ceiling on any explorer. There’s a door you haven’t seen before, half open at the back of a hallway and you carefully poke your head through it. You can see a set of stairs going down and a flashlight moving around in the dark.

“Eugene, you ok?” you call and to your relief you hear Eugene’s voice come back up to you.

“Yeah, yeah, just checking this basement, the door was locked but I got through it. It’s pretty empty down here though.”

“Ok, just come up when you can, we need you to check the radio,” you call back down to him.

“Right, I'll be there in a jiffy.”

You hear it as you turn, the fast, uneven scrambling of feet behind you making your adrenaline spike. The infected runner bolts through the open front door and immediately sees you, launching itself at you with a shriek. Your hand goes for your gun and… you grasp at nothing, panic shoots through you as you realize it’s on the table upstairs where you left it before you crawled under the table.

“Frankie!” you scream as the infected runs down the hallway and you back up, through the basement door, barely slamming it shut in time. But the broken lock won’t let the door close and the runner's hands are scratching through the opening, pushing it back. With a cry you stumble back as it throws itself against the door and get it open. You lose your balance and tumble down the stairs, a sharp pain shoots through your head as you slam down against the first landing. You fight to keep your eyes open, a haze overtaking you, but the infected screeches and runs down the stairs. It’s on top of you in an instance and you just manage to get your arms up, avoiding its snapping mouth as black dots dance around your vision. As you slip under you hear Frankie roar your name.

Frankie hears you scream, the desperation in your voice cuts through his heart like ice and he almost falls off the ladder as he slides down, dropping everything to get to you. He hears the infected shriek and he roars your name, taking the stairs three steps at a time. He sees the runner shove the door open as he reaches the first floor and hears your scream as you tumble backwards and the loud crack as you hit something on your way down.

He slams through the door and almost falls down the stairs as he tackles the infected, “Get off her,” he roars, wrenching it to the side and shoving his gun point blank to its head, pulling the trigger. The ragged body drops immediately but Frankie doesn’t even register, he’s turned to you, hands roaming over your still body, searching every inch of skin he can reach.

“Did she get bit?” he hears Pat pant from behind but he can’t respond, he’s pulling off your shirt, trying to lift you up without jostling your limp body.

“C’mon cariño, please, please, don’t do this to me, not like this, not like this,” his voice breaks and he grabs your cheek in his hand, the other around your back, carefully sitting you up, cradling you in his arms.

“Put that away, she’s not fucking bit!” he snaps at Pat as he sees the man come around the side, aiming his gun at you. Pat lowers it, your eyes are still closed.

“Please, hermosa, mi vida, I’m here, please don’t leave me,” he caresses your cheek, lightly tapping it to make you wake up, “Don’t go, I can’t…” he whispers, “I can’t lose you,” he bites back the panic that threatens to rise up. “Please, you know I need you more than you need me, that’s how it’s always been. I’m a fucking mess without you, I can’t keep my shit together without you, I need you with me, always, cariño. Fuck, please, just wake up!” He’s rambling as fear fills his chest, making breathing hard. In desperation he gives your shoulder a little shake and suddenly your eyes blink open, with a groan you squeeze them shut again against the bright light of Eugene’s flashlight.

“Frankie…” you mumble and he shushes you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you hermosa, I’ve got you, just don’t scare me like that again.

One of his hands is still feeling as much of your body as he can, lifting your arms and hands, inspecting them while Pat waits, his eyes searching your skin too.

“Cariño, I need to open your shirt,” Frankie says, leaning closer to your ear, “I’m sorry, I have to make sure you…” he trails off, his jaw tightening as he exhales through his nose, “I have to check you for bites,” he grits out, looking into your eyes as you carefully open them again.

“Ok,” you breath out, your voice small and scared and Frankie cups your cheek.

“It’s ok cariño, I won’t let you be alone if that happens, I won't leave you.” Gently he unbuttons your flannel shirt, pushing it off you while trying to not hurt your head, a large bump is already forming at the back. His hands roam across your bare skin, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he finds nothing. Cupping both cheeks with his hands he presses his lips hard against yours, kissing you deeply before pulling back again.

“You’re fine, nothing on you,” he says, releasing your cheek to push a strand of hair behind your ear, “let me check that bump on your head though.”

“The dog will have to check her when we get back, Frankie, you know that,” Pat says, putting his gun back in his holster and Frankie nods while gently probing your head.

“I know, but she’s fine, you can see for yourself.”

Pat takes Eugene upstairs to the radio and Frankie carefully makes you stand up on unsteady legs. You pull your shirt back on and button it as you tell him what happens, Frankie curses Eugene for leaving his post under his breath.

“What the fuck was he gonna do in the basement anyway?” he growls, putting his arm around your waist and leading you back upstairs. On the way past the front door, he stops and closes it, dragging a heavy desk in front of it, “Should’ve just fucking done that from the beginning,” he grumbles.

When you get back upstairs, Frankie insists on you sitting down on the floor, leaning against the wall, while he helps Eugene with the radio. It doesn’t take the old man long to figure out what’s wrong, quickly replacing some sort of mechanism in the back and tweaking it. When Frankie flicks the switch, statics fills the room.

“Let me hail Sean back in Boston,” you say, pushing yourself up from the floor, making Frankie rush over to hook his arm around your waist. You want to tell him to not fuss, but you’re still woozy and your head hurts so you gratefully accept his support.

After a bit of experimentation you find Sean’s frequency, praying he’s still working the radio, that FEDRA hasn’t shut it down, and hail him. After you say ‘Over’ the airwaves go silent and you wait, everyone in the room holding their breath.

“Boston QZ here,” Sean’s distinct voice comes through tinny and shrill but it’s definitely him and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Sean!” you cry out, “It’s so good to hear your voice!”

“What…is…is that really you?” Sean sounds amazed and relieved on the other end. “I thought you were dead, and your Frankie too, you just disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth! Where are you?”

“It’s a long story Sean, and I can’t tell you where we are, in case you know who is listening. But we’re safe, we’re fine, both of us.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, and how’s Frankie, is he doing well?”

“I’m here Sean,” Frankie leans forward and grins into the microphone, “I’m doing good, really great.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that, my dear boy! The last time I saw you, I’m sorry, but you didn’t look well,” You can hear Sean’s smile through the speakers and you give Frankie’s hand a little squeeze.

“I know, Sean, but it’s all good now. And we’ve met some good people here too, so we’re doing good.”

“Listen, Sean,” you say, before Sean can say something else about Frankie’s health, “Can you pass a message to Will and Benny? Let them know we’re alive and well and that we want to schedule a time to talk to them on the radio?”

“Absolutely, of course! I’ll leave the radio station early and go past their place before the curfew tonight.” Sean replies and you hear him scrabble around for something in the background before he comes back on, “I’ll have to leave straight away, it’s almost five thirty here, and the curfew is still at six pm.”

“Thank you, Sean, you’re the best,” you say, “Be careful, and give them hugs from us!”

“I won’t even reach up to give them hugs,” Sean chuckles, “but I’ll try. I’ll radio at two pm tomorrow, does that work for you?”

“We’ll be here, Sean,” Frankie says, “talk soon, over and out.”

“Over and out.”

…

You feel giddy on the way back to Jackson, despite the dull throb in your head. The feeling lasts right until Pat stops you just outside the Jackson gates.

“Sorry, I need to get Maria and the dog, you know the rules,” he says and you just nod to him and he disappears inside the gate. Frankie helps you out of the saddle, gently setting you down on your feet.

“It’ll be fine, cariño, he just has to be cautious,” he says, running his hand over your cheek before he wraps it around your shoulders, holding you close.

It doesn’t take long for Pat to return with Maria, she’s got a worried look on her face but stops a few feet from you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I really hope you’re not infected but you know the drill,” she kneels to release the dog and looks up at Frankie. “I’m sorry, Frankie, but I need you to step away from here, and I’ll let the dog sniff you too, just to be safe.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, letting his hand fall from your shoulder as he steps back.

You hold your breath as the German Shepherd approaches, you blacked out, you don’t know you didn’t get bit but Frankie insists you’re fine, but what if he missed something? The dog sniffs your legs and jumps up, bumping its snout into your belly with a happy wag of its tail and you exhale deeply. Maria whistles and directs the dog towards Frankie and he trots over, Frankie reaches down and holds out his hand, the dog takes one sniff and then lifts his head and licks Frankie’s face, its long tongue lapping across his nose.

“Jeez, Scout,” Frankie chuckles, holding the dog off with his hands, “you’re not meant to eat me if I’m not infected, you know.”

“Thank god you’re both fine, I nearly had a heart attack when Pat told me what happened, I’m going to have to have a talk with Eugene about abandoning his post,” Maria shakes her head and clips the leash back on Scout’s collar. “But I heard the radio works and you got in touch with someone in Boston?”

“Yeah, Sean, who I used to work with on the radio there,” you reply as the four of you start walking back through the gates, Winston trailing behind Frankie who’s got his arm back around your waist, making sure you’re still steady on your feet. “And actually, we wanted to talk to you and Pat about that, about Boston, but in private first I think.”

“Ok,” Maria looks curious but nods, “I’ll put Scout back in his kennel and you can meet me at my house when you’ve stabled Winston.”

“Cariño, I need to check your head too,” Frankie says, lightly running his hand over your hair, “we’ll meet you there Maria, as soon as I’m sure she didn’t get a concussion.”

Maria nods again and Frankie leads you over to the stable along with Winston. You feel ok though, a bit battered and you know you’ll have bruises all over your back soon, but you let Frankie check you after he hands Winston over to Ned.

“Just follow my finger with your eyes, cariño,” he instructs and you do as he says. He lets his finger trail back and forth in front of your eyes until you sigh and wave it away.

“Frankie, I’m fine but if you keep waving that finger I really will get nauseous.”

“I’m just making sure,” he says, “you scared the shit out of me, I hear the crack when you hit the floor you know.”

“I feel fine, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my gun behind, that was a rookie mistake,” you say as Frankie gently cups your cheeks with his hands.

“You should’ve had it on you, but Eugene really shouldn’t have left the front door unguarded, we were lucky it was just one runner.” he tilts his head forward so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck…I hate when things like that happen to you, it’s like I a get a glimpse of what like would be without you and I don’t think I could fucking cope.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask in a small voice, “That you wouldn’t leave me if it did happen?”

“If you’d been infected?” he asks, “I wouldn’t leave you, I could never leave you, especially like that,” his thumbs stroke across your cheeks, he’s trying to keep his voice and eyes calm but you see the anguish in his face as he touches upon that thought. It fills you to, the very idea of Frankie being infected, of seeing the mycelium under his skin, losing him to that, it makes you shiver and he tightens his hold on you.

“Would you kill me? If I asked you to?” you whisper and you see his jaw tighten.

“If you wanted me too,” he says after a long pause, “I would, but I think…I might…” he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to say it, not even think it, but he knows he’d be hard pressed to not turn the gun on himself afterwards if it came to that.

“You can’t, Frankie,” you say, reaching up and tangling your fingers in the curls around his neck, “we can’t. Not while Jack needs us.” You pull back a little and look at him, his hands still around your face. “You have to promise me, that if the worst happens, you stay, for him. Don’t leave him.”

Frankie’s face flashes with pain and you feel it too, the idea of trying to go on without him, in this world, is just so very hard, but for the first time you feel responsible for someone else apart from Frankie and yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you, Frankie, not ever. But if I have to, for Jack, I’ll have figure out how to. And you need to do the same.”

He nods, it’s the smallest of gestures, but he’s looking at you and you see the intention in his eyes and you bring him close again, forehead to forehead.

“I promise, cariño,” he whispers, “I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out too. But I’m not letting that happen, I’m keeping you and Jack safe.”

“You can’t promise that, Frankie,” you whisper back, coming back to the same objection as always.

“Just fucking watch me,” he growls, but he’s smiling, challenging you to contradict him in his conviction.

It’s only a little bit later that you make your way over to Maria’s house, the plan for what you’re going to ask her ready. She calls for you to come on in when Frankie raps his knuckles on the front door.

Pat is already in the living room, on the couch with a cup of herbal tea in his hand, the only warm drink the community is able to produce, yet at least.

“How’s the head?” he asks as you sit down.

“Not too bad, there’s an egg sized lump on the back of my head that’s throbbing, but nurse Frankie says no concussion.

Pat chuckles as Frankie rolls his eyes at you, “Good to hear, you gave us one hell of a scare there, sorry if I was a bit rough with you afterwards.”

“There’s no need, Pat, it is what it is,” you shrug, trying to feign a casual response you don’t feel.

“I made some tea for you two too, thought you might need some warming up,” Maria says as she comes into the living room, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie accepts the tea from Maria and clears his throat, “We wanted to ask you if we can invite four friends of ours, to Jackson, if they can make it from Boston.”

Maria has raised her eyebrows in question, you know how protective she is, how protective you all are, of the community, who you let in, and how crucial it is to keep the circle of people who know about it small.

“Before the outbreak, as you know, I was in Delta Force,” Frankie says, rubbing his thumb over the tea mug, “two of my best friends from those days, Will and Benny Miller, are still in Boston with their girlfriends. Will and Benny are two of the best people I know, my brothers, and very competent soldiers. For selfish reasons we’d both like to have them here, but I also think they’d be a great asset to Jackson.”

Maria nods slowly and looks over at Pat who’s rubbing his hand over his chin, “Frankie, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I trust you with my life when we’re out on patrol, and if they’re anything like you, and you vouch for them, I’d be more than happy to welcome them here.”

Pat’s glowing review of Frankie’s character makes pride swell in your chest and you see Frankie’s ears turn pink at the praise.

“Thanks, man, I…I don’t know what to say,” Frankie stutters, failing to hide his grin, “I…We’ve just really tried to do our best for the community, and I know Will and Ben would do the same. And their girlfriends are great people too, Diana, Will’s partner, is a nurse and Eve was training under her, it’d be great to have them here too.”

“It’s a long and dangerous journey, you two know that very well,” Maria says, “but if they’re willing to risk it, and as Pat says, you vouch for them, I don’t see why not. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another two ex-soldiers to deter any raiders.”

“We’re hoping to talk to them tomorrow at two pm, Boston time,” you say, “Sean was going to try to set it up for us.”

“Ok, but make sure you don’t tell them exactly where Jackson is, in case FEDRA listens in. Guide them to the radio tower, we’ll do patrols there regularly,” Maria says and Frankie can’t help but chuckle.

“Trust me, if we tell them to go to the radio tower, they’ll find Jackson the same afternoon, Benny will smell the food and Will’s going to read the map and figure out exactly where we are in under a minute.”

…

Pat and Ned come up to the radio tower with you and Frankie the next day. The front door had been properly secured before you left yesterday but you still carefully clear the building before heading up to the radio.

You start it up and find the right frequency, hailing Sean as Pat’s old wind up watch hits noon. Wyoming is still two hours behind the east coast, time zones strangely still being a thing, at least over the radio.

But it’s not Sean’s voice that comes back at you over the radio.

“Fuck you both for taking off like that,” Benny roars over the air waves, filling the small room in the radio tower, making Pat raise his eye brows and look at Frankie with alarm.

“We thought you were fucking dead! And not a word, not even fucking note, first Pope and then you two just disappear, what the fuck was that about? And now you just suddenly fucking turn up out of nowhere and you’re safe and you’re somewhere out west and I don’t know fucking what? Fish! You are so dead the next time I see you!”

“Benny, shut the fuck up for a second and let them respond,” Will’s voice comes through, interrupting Benny’s angry tirade, “Ironhead, over.”

The radio goes silent as someone on the other end lets go of the broadcast switch and you press yours down to reply, not quite sure what to say after Benny’s outburst. Sure, it was probably justified, but it wasn’t exactly the way you thought your first communication with them would go. Pat is looking very surprised and a little bit hesitant next to Frankie.

Frankie leans forward over your shoulder and puts his hand over yours on the switch, “Catfish here. Good to hear your voices, and I guess we had that coming Benny. We owe you guys an explanation.”

He pauses, his hand still on the switch as he collects his thoughts, “I had to leave, you guys know why, and she made me see that it was the only way. We didn’t want to leave without saying anything but…we couldn’t let you risk everything too. I know you both would’ve come anyway, even if I told you not to, so we had to leave without saying anything. But I’m sorry, really, Benny, I’m really sorry we didn’t say anything. Over.” He takes his hand off yours and you let the switch flip back up into the receiving position.

“Are you good now, Fish? Over.” Will’s voice comes over the radio almost instantly and Frankie hits reply.

“Yeah, I’m good now, been good for a while. But I’ll tell you all about it later, because we’ve found something really good here and we want you to come out too, if you can. It’s a long journey, but it’ll be worth it. I don’t wanna say too much in case FEDRA or someone else is listening in, but remember that job we did in Iraq? And the name of that fucking C.O. that kept calling Pope and me spics? There’s a place in Wyoming that matches, that’s where we are, come find us there. Over.” Frankie lets go of the switch.

“You’re in Wyoming? How the fuck did you end up there?” Benny’s voice is incredulous and he still sounds a bit pissed off but Will interrupts him.

“So you want us to travel halfway across the country but you can’t tell us why?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know it’s dodgy as fuck, but I know you trust me, it’s good, it’ll be worth it, we’ve got something really good going here. And you know the names right?”

“Yeah, sure, I still have a fucking five inch scar from that job and I know exactly what asshole you mean,” Will responds.

“Will,” you lean forward, “it’s a dangerous journey, we know that. But if you can get a car, you’ll find abandoned cars almost the whole way so that you can fill up on gas as you go, that’s what we did. Only thing is, the last two days, once we got to Wyoming, there were no more cars so we had to walk the rest of the way.”

“But why the fuck did you go as far as Wyoming?” Benny asks again and you can’t help but smile, you can see his face in front of you, his forehead bunched up as he tries to wrap his head around it.

“We didn’t plan it,” Frankie says, “we were just trying to get away from populated areas as much as possible. And then…something happened in Nebraska, and we had to head further west.”

“Yeah, be careful of people, we ran into some really nasty types in Nebraska, just about got away,” you fill in.

“But you’re saying it’ll be worth the journey, if we make it out to you guys?” Will asks and Frankie nods as he flicks the switch.

“Yeah, absolutely, I’m sorry I can’t say more over the radio, but yeah, one hundred percent worth it.”

“Well, anything is better than fucking Boston QZ at the moment,” Benny grumbles as Will flicks the switch again. “FEDRA has turned it into a fascist state, it’s even worse than when you left.”

“Fish, we’ll talk to Diana and Eve and let you know, but…I mean, I trust you with my life, you’re my brother,” Will says, “If you say it’s worth risking our lives for, then I believe you.”

“Ok, can you be back on the air at the same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Will says, “We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Over and out.”

The radio goes silent and you sit back, you can hardly believe you just talked to Will and Benny again. You just hope they want to come, and that they make it. Frankie wraps his arms around you from behind and gives you a big hug, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“So fucking great to talk to them again,” he grins, “I hope they want to come but I hope we did the right thing to ask them, it’s a long journey.”

You nod as you go through the motions of switching off the radio, you hope so too and a little ball of anxiety is settling in your stomach.

…

That ball grows as you don’t hear from them the next day. Not even Sean is on the radio and you can’t get in touch with Boston at all. You fiddle with the dials, trying everything Sean’s taught you, but there’s nothing, just statics. Frankie stands behind your shoulder, looking anxious. It was always a risk, contacting them inside the QZ, if FEDRA listened in they might’ve tried getting to Will and Benny straight away.

“Fuck, I really hope we didn’t put them in danger just by contacting them,” you say with a sigh, looking up at Frankie, he’s rubbing his hand over his jaw, deep in thought.

“I don’t know, cariño, I really hope not. I guess all we can do is come by here every day at noon and see if we get a response.”

You and Frankie take the patrol route that goes past the radio tower every day and make sure to be there at noon. The first couple of weeks you remain hopeful, maybe something broke, maybe there’s a curfew preventing anyone from getting to the radio, life is so unpredictable now, you know this. But as the weeks turn into a month, and then two, and the radio remains silent, both you and Frankie start losing hope. It’s like the Boston radio station has ceased to exist and all you can do is wait. And hope.

It’s not until you’re deep into winter that you come back to the radio station on one of your patrol routes, Frankie and you don’t even go on that patrol regularly anymore, and you find a message from one of the other Jackson residents.

Message from Sean in Boston: FEDRA shut down radio. W & B left approx. three months ago. Hope they have arrived. Will send new messages when possible.

“Three months ago?” you say, looking at Frankie, “they should be here by now if they managed to drive.”

“They should be here even if they walked the whole way,” Frankie says, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown, “something must’ve happened.”

You feel the lump in your stomach, anxious nerves twisting your insides, and Frankie sees the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms.

“Don’t give up hope yet, cariño,” he mumbles into your hair, “you know that if there’s anyone that can do that journey, it’s Will and Benny.”

“I almost wish we hadn’t told them,” you say into his chest, “I’m scared we’ll never hear from them again and never know what happened.”

He caresses your hair, trailing his fingers along the back of your neck, “You know, Benny will say it’s payback for what we did when we left without saying anything, I can just see his smirk as he says it, ‘Fuckin’ payback Fish!’ “

You smile through your tears, looking up at Frankie who’s doing his best to imitate Ben’s smug grin.

“There you go,” he smiles back at you, wiping your cheek clean, “don’t grieve for them yet, there’s still plenty of hope.”

…

Winter in Boston is a piece of cake compared to winter in Wyoming, as you find out, especially this close to the Rockies. The snow covers everything both inside and outside of Jackson in a thick layer. Almost every morning Frankie shovels the snow off your front porch and clears the path to the street. Then he shovels the section of the street the two of you are assigned to, everyone helping out to keep Jackson passable as the winter continues. Patrols become increasingly difficult, the snow becomes too deep even for the horses to pass through and the only upside is that if the Jackson guards can’t patrol, then no one else can either, all of Wyoming is snowed in.

But there’s plenty to do in the town and you go back to working in the kitchen, bringing Jack with you most days. He’s the only baby in the community and to say he’s spoiled rotten would be an understatement. He’s walking now, waddling around as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, but when he’s in the kitchen he spends most of his time on the hip of one of the residents who work there with you, happily watching everything that goes on around him.

Frankie takes Jack some days but he’s often outside, helping to build or fix things, slowly putting Jackson together into a working town. The stable has been joined by two chicken coops, the old medical clinic has been cleaned out and repaired as much as possible, there’s even a communal ‘shop’ of sorts where any useful clothes and shoes are stored and organized. An election has been held and Maria is now head of the community board, Jackson is slowly turning into a proper town.

As the weeks pass, the winter deepens and Maria and the board decide that it’s time for the town to have its very first holiday celebration. To be honest, no one is completely sure what day it is anymore. You lost track back in Denny’s cabin when you were trying to keep Frankie alive. In the QZ some people had made calendars to track the days but more often than not they disagreed on exactly what day it was. FEDRA in Boston claimed they had an exact calendar, but Will, who’d spent most of his life tracking everything, said it was incorrect by twenty six days, almost a month off, and you trusted Will. But in Boston, even to Will, it didn’t really matter what date it was, you were too busy just surviving.

So as the days are still growing shorter, a day is picked, a Saturday in two weeks, for the first Jackson Holiday Season celebration. The community hall is decorated with evergreens and the big room smells of juniper and pine every time you come inside. A thread bare red blanket has been cut into strips and turned into bows that are now nestled in the evergreen branches. And it seems every red item that can be found in Jackson has been brought to the hall to decorate tables, windows and every available surface.

As the day draws nearer Frankie becomes more and more secretive about what he’s up to, giving you sly grins whenever you ask where he’s off to as he tries to sneak out the door. You know he’s planning something, but you can’t figure out what. But his absence from the house gives you time to work on your own gifts for him.

There’s not much in the way of available holiday gifts though. Although Jack’s turns out to be pretty easy, the toy shop in the non-enclosed part of Jackson has an array of toys left on its shelves, not much use to anyone in the apocalypse. Frankie and you go over there one afternoon on a patrol route and pick out a colorful set of wood blocks and, of course, a toy helicopter, still in its box.

“You’ll have to explain what a helicopter is,” you say to Frankie as you watch him carefully scan the shelves to find the biggest and, in Frankie’s professional opinion, best helicopter model.

“Yeah, kinda weird knowing he’s gonna grow up never seeing a helicopter or airplane actually fly,” he replies, discarding yet another helicopter, “This model is alright, but the Viper really is better, even if most people thought the Apache Guardian was the best one. I always preferred the Viper, better maneuverability at low altitudes.”

“I think he’ll like this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red and yellow helicopter, clearly from a children's tv-show. Frankie glances at it and shakes his head immediately.

“No, I’m not giving our son a fake helicopter, he’s getting a real one.” He goes back to scanning the shelves, crouching down and moving the boxes aside. “Maybe they have some more out back,” he mutters, discarding yet another perfectly fine looking military helicopter.

“Well, when you find a ‘real’ helicopter in here, let me know. I’m going to see if I can find some crayons and drawing books for him,” you can’t help teasing him as you turn away and head towards the craft section.

You have to stop yourself from filling your bag to the brim with crayons, drawing books, beads, paint, brushes and other crafting materials, but you still stuff it pretty full. Just as you close it Frankie finally comes over, two boxes in his hands.

“I found a Viper out back, last one they had,” he says with a grin, showing you a military helicopter that, to you, looks identical to the one he discarded, “but I also got him this really cool rescue services helicopter, they use it for water bombing, it’s a S-64 Skycrane, it can hold up to three thousand gallons of water! In the army we call it the CH-54 Tarhe, but the Skycrane is the civilian name. It’s a twin engine, heavy lifting helicopter, one of the best in the world. You really need a pilot and a co-pilot to fly it but I had special training and could fly it solo in an emergency. But the really cool thing is that it could lift up to forty two thousand pounds and still do a hundred and nine knots! Isn’t that awesome, cariño?”

You’ve walked out of the shop and turned back down towards the Jackson gate while Frankie enthusiastically gushes about the toy helicopters still in his hands and when he pauses for your opinion, you just nod and smile at him. Most of what he said has just floated through your head, but Frankie tirade of facts reminds you of the first time he took you up flying, how he’d rattled off technical facts about the helicopter you were about to fly in and then apologized for boring you with all the details. As you wave to the guards and the gate slides open to let you in, you bump his shoulder with yours.

“That’s pretty cool, Frankie. Jack’s going to be very impressed too.”

“I can’t wait to show him on Christmas morning,” Frankie grins, smiling lovingly down at the two helicopters in his hands.

…

The night before what Jackson has communally decided is Christmas, or whatever holiday you want to celebrate, Frankie turns up at the door with a Christmas tree and you can’t believe your eyes. It’s not huge, a modest one, but he’s somehow found a foot for it, and now it’s standing in the living room and Jack’s eyes have never been bigger as he gazes at it. He’s almost one and you’re set on making his first Christmas as magical as possible.

“Pat, Ned and I found loads of decorations at HomeDepot, even the lights work,” Frankie says, showing you the box. “We’ve got enough decorations there to fill all of Jackson I think, I even got candy canes!”.

“You’ve got everything here,” you can’t help but giggle as you look into the box of decorations he’s dragged in after the tree, “baubles, tinsel, streamers, this is going to look amazing.” You haven’t wanted to celebrate anything for years, but now you’re filled with an urge to make the tree, and the house, look perfect for your first family Christmas. You’ve already made a wreath for the front door out of evergreen and colorful scraps of fabric but now you can add more decorations to the house. As Frankie organizes the tree decorations, you go through the house, placing tinsel and baubles wherever you can find a suitable spot.

“Should we decorate the tree now or wait until Jack’s asleep?” Frankie asks you as you come back into the living room, “My mom would always do it while we slept and then it’d be all perfect and ready on Christmas morning.”

“He’s too small for that, and I wanna sit in front of the fire with you tonight and look at our tree,” you reply, sliding your arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

“Anything for you, cariño,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

…

Christmas Day morning you wake up as Frankie slips from the bed and you mumble after him. He comes back and tucks you back in, placing a feather soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Go back to sleep, cariño, I won’t be long.”

You doze off, the light in the room still dim and there’s no noise from Jack’s room, it must be early.

Frankie gently places a tray on the bedside table a little bit later and runs his hand over your shoulder, making you blink awake.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he whispers, before he disappears again and you slowly open your eyes, confused. But then you hear Jack’s gurgling as Frankie comes back in with the baby in his arms and you wake up properly.

“First family Christmas for baby Jack,” Frankie smiles and gives you the little boy after you’ve scooted yourself up to lean against the headboard.

“First family Christmas,” you smile back, snuggling a still sleepy Jack close while Frankie picks up the tray and sets it down on the bed before crawling back in next to you. On it are two steaming mugs and you can’t believe your nose.

“Is that hot chocolate, Frankie?!” you ask, eyes wide and he nods, giving you a big grin.

“Pat and I found a big bag of cocoa powder a while back, we’ve been keeping it a secret for Christmas, he’s making brownies for everyone tonight.”

“Oh my god, I can’t wait…” you sigh, accepting the mug as Frankie passes it to you, keeping it out of reach from Jack’s grabby hands.

“Don’t worry, gordito, I’ve made you some too,” Frankie chuckles, giving Jack a sippy cup. The baby’s face transforms as he tastes the sweet drink, tilting the cup back so fast you have to grab it to stop him from drowning himself in the drink.

“I hope there’s plenty of cocoa powder because we may have found Jack’s new favorite thing,” you laugh. Frankie scoots closer and puts his arm behind your back, pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, your present is under the tree,” you say and you can feel him chuckle under you.

“So that’s what you did when you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night,” he laughs, “I was wondering what you were up to.”

“No, that was Santa Claus,” you say with a serious face, “you must’ve heard of him coming down the chimney.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Frankie chuckles again, “Santa Claus.” He puts his mug down and tilts your head up towards him, brushing his nose against your cheek, running it along the bridge of your nose until his lips find yours and he nudges them apart with his tongue. He tastes of chocolate and honey and himself as he deepens the kiss. Jack coos happily on your lap, you can feel him tugging at the t-shirt you’ve slept in while Frankie’s warm body wraps around you and Jack. He pulls back a little, leaving your lips, and smiles down at you, and then Jack, his eyes warm and soft, crinkling at the corners.

“Merry Christmas,” he says in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment and you reach up and cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scruffy beard, stroking the small patch that never fills in and you kiss him again.

The rest of the morning, after breakfast has been cleared away, is spent in the living room. The fire is going, warming the house and keeping the blistering cold Wyoming winter at bay, and the Jackson board has given everyone leave to light the Christmas lights as the dam is running like clockwork, producing much more electricity than the small community needs.

Jack happily tears into the bright paper around his presents, banging the wooden blocks against each other with glee as Frankie shows him how the helicopter flies. Frankie’s wearing your presents to him, your very first knitting projects, a woolly hat that turned out much better than you anticipated, and a pair of pretty knobbly socks that Frankie swears are the comfiest socks ever, but you’re pretty sure he only says that to make you happy.

Your own present from Frankie is already neatly placed in the book shelf next to the window, a wide selection of best selling books from the Jackson Bookshop. You hadn’t even known there was a bookshop but Frankie had lugged back over twenty heavy books, and promised to take you there to get more books when you wanted.

“I also have another present, but you’ll get that one tonight,” he smiles, giving you a mischievous wink that doesn’t fail to get you a little bit turned on. You’ve almost lost count of the years you’ve been with him now, but he still knows exactly what look to give you to make heat shoot through your body, making your thighs clench together.

As darkness falls over Jackson, almost everyone heads for the community hall. There’d been a draw and a few unlucky people were on guard duty, but they’ve been giving generous hampers of the best food and extra days off from guard duty as compensation. But you’re still very happy that neither your or Frankie’s names got pulled for duty tonight. Instead you’d wrapped Jack in warm clothes and walked down to the community hall that’s blazing with light and warmth. Now you’re leaning back in your chair, Jack on Frankie’s lap, full of food you didn’t think you’d ever eat again. Turkey and cranberries, roast potatoes, even Pat’s brownies, it had all been delicious and you think it may have been the best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had. Jack had happily tried everything that had been placed in front of him, except the brussel sprouts, but you couldn’t blame him for that. The brownie had been his favorite, smeared across most of his face to the delight of the whole Jackson community. It was as if Jack’s presence, still the only child in town, gave even more of a holiday feel to the celebration and he’d been passed around almost every lap during the evening before slumping in Frankie’s now, almost asleep.

“Do you want me to take him now, Frankie?” Maria asks as she comes over and you look up surprised but Frankie just smiles.

“That’d be great, I think it should be ready now,” he gives Jack a peck on the top of his fuzzy head and carefully hands him over to Maria, “We’ll come pick him up tomorrow morning, but not too early.”

“Don’t worry about it, take all the time you want,” Maria says and winks as Frankie stands, holding out his hand to you.

“Mi amor, time for your Christmas present,” he smiles and you take his hand.

“I want to ask where we’re going but I’m guessing you won’t tell me?” you ask and Frankie chuckles, waving goodbye to Maria and leading you out of the community center.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You walk through the quiet town, in the opposite direction from your own house and you’re thoroughly confused when Frankie leads you down a street no one lives on yet and to a house right at the end of the cul-de-sac. He pushes the gate open but instead of going up onto the porch, he leads you round the back, pushing open another gate in a tall fence, and stepping into the backyard.

You see it immediately, a large wooden hot tub, filled to the brim with steaming water, heated by a wood fired heater next to it. A big pile of firewood is next to it and by the way the snow is flattened you guess Frankie’s been here during the evening to feed the fire and heat up the water.

“Seriously?” you smile, turning to look at Frankie who’s grinning next to you, “A hot tub?”

“Yep, we knew it was here but with fire wood needed to heat the houses it was never put to use. Now that the dam is running so well, we can afford to waste a bit of wood on heating it. So, Merry Christmas, cariño.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans his head on your shoulder, the cold tip of his nose finding the warm skin of your neck and you reach up, cupping the back of his head.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, this is amazing…” you sigh, “And I guess Maria is in on this too, that’s why she took Jack?”

“She’s babysitting him tonight for us, so we have all the time that we want,” Frankie mumbles, his lips already wandering across your neck, pushing hair out of the way and reaching that spot just under your ear that he loves to nuzzle into, to nip at just a little, because he knows how you react when he does.

“C’mon, we’re skinny dipping,” he smiles into your neck, reaching for the zipper on your winter coat and sliding it down, “strip fast and get in, I’ll be right there.”

He gives your neck a final little nip, making you hum quietly under your breath, before he steps away and goes to retrieve something up on the back porch. There’s a bench next to the hot tub and you quickly take off your jacket and peel off the rest of your clothes. As you get to your bra and panties you quickly glance around and realize that the backyard has total privacy, even from the neighboring houses, so you strip down and climb into the tub. Frankie comes back just as you step into the water, the short stay in the frigid air has made you shiver and you moan as you slip into the hot water.

“Frankie, this feels amazing,” you sigh as Frankie places a couple of towels on the heater to keep them warm, and places two glasses and a bottle on the edge of the hot tub.

“You look very cozy there, cariño,” he smiles as he starts stripping down too. You can’t help but lean on the edge of the hot tub and watch him as he pulls his shirt off, followed by his pants. He’s well into his forties now but he’s still maintained his wide, muscular shoulders and broad chest that tapers down into a narrow waist and hips over strong thighs. The only thing betraying his age and the slightly softer lifestyle of Jackson is his soft little belly and more gray hairs in his patchy beard.

“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles as he spots you shamelessly scanning his body.

“Always, ever since our first date,” you smile, scooting to the side as he steps in. Your mouth waters as you take in his half hard cock hanging stiff between his legs, despite the cold air.

Frankie sinks down into the water with a groan, the warmth seeping into his muscles and bones and with a thump he drops his head back against the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes, letting a long breath escape him. You move closer to him again, pulling his arm around your shoulders as you sink into his side.

“Hmm…” he tilts his head towards yours, his hand coming up to hold your chin, moving it so that he can reach your lips, “you taste like Christmas, cariño.”

It makes you smile into his mouth, letting your tongue slip into his, tasting him, the burn of the whiskey he had before you left.

“What’s in the bottle, Frankie?” you ask, mumbling against him and now it’s his turn to smile.

“Something to make you lose your inhibitions and have sex in a hot tub in the middle of a Wyoming winter,” he chuckles.

“Sounds exactly like what we need,” you smile back at him and he pulls away far enough to grab the glasses and the bottle. The bottle is barely half full but it’s more than enough for a finger in each glass and when Frankie hands one to you, you smell the rich bourbon.

“This is the real stuff? Not Eugene’s moonshine?” you ask, your eyebrows raised but Frankie just grins and clinks his glass against yours.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he takes a sip, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief over the brim.

“Francisco Morales,” you say, trying to sound stern, and failing, “where did you get this?” You take a sip and groan. You were never a big whiskey drinker before the outbreak, and not even during the first few years of it. But while in Boston, when creature comforts became fewer and further between, real whiskey was one of the few things that could sometimes be traded for, the one indulgence that could make you all relax enough to forget the real world for a while. As the years passed it became harder to find the good stuff, mostly it was moonshine disguised as whiskey. But this was real bourbon, Jack Daniels, and not the cheap stuff.

Frankie takes another sip and leans forward, “I pulled a few strings, I am the hero of Jackson Dam after all,” he chuckles before he makes you open your mouth to his tongue again. The whiskey flavor is mellow this time, mingling with his own taste and you forget your question, moaning as he licks into your mouth. He takes the glass from you, placing it on the edge without letting his mouth leave yours and then his hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. The cold air hits your shoulders but Frankie sinks down further, water sloshing around you, and as he moves his lips from your mouth, trailing down your neck, you forget about the frigid temperature. His hands are pulling you down against his hard length as he sucks a mark into your smooth skin, making you whimper under him.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, his lips brushing down over your chest as he lifts you out of the water, watching the cold air make your nipples tighten before he wraps a hand around your breast, the warmth from his palm making you shudder, “Gonna make you come on my fingers right here, fuck you on my lap, then I’ll take you home, get you warmed up in front of the fire before I take care of you for the rest of the night, anything you want, hermosa, I’ll do to you.”

His words make you shiver more than the air, sending spasms down your spine, and Frankie moves you off his lap, setting you down next to him, the warm water coming up to your neck again.

“You can come inside me tonight, Frankie,” you say as his strong hands grip your legs, and you feel his response, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and he presses his mouth to yours, taking a long kiss, tongues slipping over each other, before he pulls back a little.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear now, as he pulls you into his side, his hand slipping up the inside of your thigh. You don’t need his words to spread open for him, but he knows you like to hear him ask for it, so he lets his breath skate across the damp skin while he tells you what to do. Hooking his leg over yours, he squeezes the soft flesh of your leg as he props you open for his hand to slip further up. You’re protesting at his slow pace, he’s just teasing you as he strokes the butter soft skin right at the top of your thigh, grazing against your core as he moves his hand to the other side. He chuckles into your ear as your hips buck, chasing his hand and he lets his other arm slip down to your hip, grabbing it tight and holding you still as he moves his hand up again.

“So impatient tonight, cariño,” he smiles before his teeth nip at your neck, his scruff tickling your skin as he moves further down. His hand is still kneading the plush flesh, pushing you open more as he slides his hand back up. When his fingertips catch at your entrance and drags upwards, you whimper, turning your head and chasing his lips with your mouth. He lets you kiss him, opening his mouth to your tongue as his fingers slide through your folds.

The slow drag makes you want to clench your thighs together but his leg is keeping them in place, keeping you open for his drawn out exploration.

“Frankie…” you moan against his lips, breathing heavily against him as he brushes around your clit yet again, “please…more…”

You can feel him smile against you as your pleading voice turns into a whine when he slowly pushes the tip of his finger inside you, only the one, much too little for what you need, and you keen in protest, grabbing his shoulder and trying to push your hips towards him.

“Sshh…hermosa, just stay still, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his voice low and promising, “gonna let you feel my fingers so deep inside this wet little pussy, just be patient…” the last words he mumbles into your ear as he leaves your lips, his hot breath making you shiver. His finger slips out and slips back in, pumping slowly as he lets his thumb touch your clit feather light, but even under those small touches, your breath catches, head thrown back against the edge of the hot tub.

Frankie’s teeth grazes your throat, just under your ear, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you shiver again and he slides his finger out, even the hot water feels cool against his skin after the heat of your pussy. When he adds a second finger and slides in, he’s rewarded by a loud moan as you turn your heads towards him again, desperately seeking him. He swallows down your noises, drowning in your pants as he starts curling his fingers back, dragging across a spot he knows makes you squeeze your eyes shut as you gasp. His thumb finds your clit again and now he lets his rough pad, made soft and wrinkled by the warm water, rub across the swollen pearl, circling, flicking, teasing until your gasps are replaced by panted whimpers into his mouth.

“Frankie…” you moan, “Frankiefrankiefrankie…”

Your cries send shock waves into his hard cock, resting heavily in the water between his spread thighs, one of his legs still hooked over yours. He feels your hand slide down over his front, wrapping around the solid length, and it’s his turn to gasp, your thumb finding the slit and caressing over it.

“Make me come, Frankie, I-I want you to fuck me h-here,” you pant, shaking under the way his fingers plunge in and out of your tight heat, “I want your cock inside me now, I don’t want to w-wait…oh fuck…”

He’s slipped out and added a third finger, pressing them deep inside you, moving his body to push you against the wall of the hot tub, your hand still gripping his hard, aching cock. His tongue invades your mouth, both of you moaning under the onslaught of pleasure rippling through your nerves. You’re further along, Frankie’s thumb teasing your clit in ever tightening circles while his fingers curl back. But it’s Frankie who breaks first, as his cock easily slips through your tight grip under the water, he curses in Spanish, pulling away from you.

“C’mere,” he growls and you gasp as his fingers slip out of you. He grabs your arms, turning you around easily and placing you on his lap, pushing your legs wide, hooking them over his knees, as you lean back against his chest. You feel the tip of his rigid cock at your entrance as he pulls you down, the slick heat of your core and the water making him slide in deep in one firm thrust. The impact, the way he hits a spot deep inside, makes you throw your head back, against his shoulder, and cry out his name. Frankie sees your hot breath steam into the cold air, mixing with the steam from the hot tub as you moan again. One hand on your hip to pull you down, he lets the other find your aching clit, teasing it with his fingers as he thrusts up into you. His cock his aching, every movement from you transplanting into every nerve ending along it, shooting up through his spine, his balls, his fucking finger tips, he swears he can feel you clenching tight around him even in his ear lobes.

His mouth is right next to your ear and he’s mumbling, slamming his hips up as much as the position lets him, “Such a tight fucking pussy, couldn’t wait another second, bebita, your hand…” he groans as another spams ripples through your body, he can feel how close you are, grinding your hips down against him with every thrust up, “fuck…you feel so fucking good,” he moans, “let me feel you come around my cock, just let me feel it, I’m so fu-fucking c-c-lose…”

You can feel his fingers dig into your hip, his mouth against your ear, his rough fingers caressing rough circles around your clit, building pressure.

“Frankie…” you whimper, your voice tight and strained, “I’m…”

Your orgasm hits you without warning, snapping every muscle in your body, Frankie feels you go rigid under his grip as you cry out his name again, it catches in your throat as he continues to grind up in to you, his fingers rubbing fast circles, pushing you forward, prolonging every waves that washes through you until you go limp. With a sob you slump back against him and he grabs your hips, pushing himself deep, once, twice, with a cry he thrusts in a third time and feels himself explode, pumping deep inside as your slowing spasms milk him dry.

You feel yourself relax in his arms, his grip tight, heart thrumming under your back as he pushes his face against the crook of your neck. You look up towards the night sky, trying to focus your eyes again, as every muscle in your body tingles with pleasure, coming down. Tendrils of steam are rising from the tub, your breath mingling with his, low pants and sloshing water the only sounds around you. You shiver as you realize most of your chest is out of the water, you’re still sitting on Frankie’s lap, but he notices and lifts you up, your body almost weightless in the water.

“C’mere, don’t get cold,” he mumbles, his voice soft and mellow, and he tucks you in under his arm, pulling you close into his side, kissing your cheek with his warm lips.

“Even before the outbreak, this would’ve been an absolutely perfect Christmas gift, Frankie,” you hum, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he draws another deep breath, his shoulders dropping, relaxing.

“Yeah, I would’ve gotten one of these for the house,” he says, lifting his hand and caressing the top of your head, his fingers trailing through your hair for a few minutes as you both let the warmth of the water soak through your muscles, relaxing you enough to slip even further down.

“I haven’t thought about life before the outbreak in a long time,” he mumbles after a while, a darker tone to his voice, “or where we would be if it hadn’t happened.”

“We’d still be together, Frankie, I know that. In our house, getting old, soaking in a hot tub.”

You see him give a small smile but his mind has turned to someone else.

“She’d be turning seventeen this spring…I wonder what she would look like,” Frankie’s fingers twitch in your hair as he tilts his head towards you, you feel the shift in his mood as clearly as if you were looking at his face.

“You know she’d be beautiful, Frankie, but more importantly, she’d be an incredible young woman with you as her dad,” you take his hand and stroke your thumb over the knuckles, a small soothing movement.

“It’s so unfair…I could've protected her, if only she’d been with me when the outbreak happened, I would’ve kept her safe,” he shifts so that he can turn himself more towards you, slipping down and leaning his head against your shoulder, his arm circling your waist to pull you even closer, “and none of all the shit I put you through would’ve happened, I would’ve been able to stay away from it with both of you alive.”

“You had to go through something no one should have to face, Frankie, you know I don’t blame you for any of it,” you whisper, letting your lips brush over his damp curls and you hear him let out a shaky breath.

“My first sponsor, back before Lucía was born, used to say that men like him and me need a focus in our lives, someone to protect or something to live for, to keep us straight. It might not be the best way, but it is what it is. And he told me I should let Lucía be my focus, and it worked.”

Frankie draws a deep breath and shrugs, “She was the reason, even before she was born, that I got clean. When I met you,” his hand wraps around yours under the water, “I knew that I didn’t need to put that burden on you, I could just be yours, be the man you deserve, and not let you deal with all my shit. She was going to keep my focus even if she didn’t even know it,” Frankie stops, and you hear the sob he tries to swallow back and you wrap your arms tighter around him as he digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer, pressing his face to your neck.

“When she…” he murmurs, and you can feel him shake his head, “I can’t…say it…”

“You don’t have to, Frankie, I know what you mean,” you press your lips against his head and he draws a deep breath, swallowing down another sob.

“After, at the cabin, I had to shift my focus to you…you were the only reason I didn’t walk into the lake. But I don’t want you to have to be the reason I stay clean, I should be able to do it anyway, it’s not your burden.”

“You know I’d do it all again, Frankie, I will happily help you carry your burden, as long as I get to have you alive and well with me, that’s all I ever want,” you sink down, cupping his face between your hands, finding his eyes with yours before you press your lips to his, “You’re my everything, Frankie,” you mumble, pulling back a little and looking at his tear filled eyes again, “You’re always my everything, you’re always going to be the most important person in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes, always,” you kiss him again, harder this time, pressing your love into him and you feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“Cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, “cariño, hermosa, eres todo para mí.” he brings his hands up to your face, his nose nudging yours as he kisses you again, “Siempre, siempre.”

He pulls you in, his mouth finding yours, soft lips pressed close, as he pulls you onto his lap again, “Always, I’m always yours.”

…

Winter seems to drag on forever, with no end in sight. You wish you had a weather channel on the useless tv that’s stored away in the garage. You’d love for a weatherman to explain to you why it’s mid-April and it’s still snowing, a thick layer on the ground.

“It’s the mountains, cariño,” Frankie explains for the fifth time as you grumble at the snow on yet another cold morning. “We’re so high up, even though we’re on the same latitude as Boston. And Boston has a coastal climate, Jackson has a continental climate, but we’re in a valley so I think, probably-”

“Frankie, I love you, but I don’t need another encyclopedic entry on why Jackson winters are so fucking long,” you sigh, shutting him up with a kiss that makes him grin at you as he tries to grab your butt.

“Fine, snow bad, sunshine good,” he chuckles, taking Jack from you. Jack’s grown a lot over the winter and totters around the house, forcing you to baby proof every low surface to prevent him from grabbing at anything within reach.

You long for warmer weather, for mild days where you can let Jack go outside without four layers of clothing, to be able to sit on the porch swing with Frankie and just rock back and forth. And, thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for your wish to come true. It’s like someone flicked a switch. Freezing nights are replaced with mild spring showers, the snow melts, turning all the unpaved streets to mud, only to dry up as the sun returns a few days later. Suddenly the white world has turned dirty yellow and gray, and then bright green breaks through. It’s like an Arctic spring, over in a week, the mountain’s are still snow capped but the meadows are coated in fresh green grass and a riot of spring flowers.

Daffodils shoot up through the sparse grass in your backyard, the originally neat rows have multiplied over the years and taken over the lawn. You realize that whoever lived here before the outbreak must’ve planted them and now they spread their bright yellow shine all over what is now your garden. You pick bunches and decorate the house, fill every container you have with them, give more to Maria and Pat, even Ned and the horses get bunches for the stable, and still you have daffodils all over your lawn.

With spring all of Jackson is busy preparing for the new season, the first two green houses have been built over the winter, glass from dilapidated houses used to create two impressive structures. Now they’re filled with neat rows of planters and almost everyone takes turns tending them, overseen by a young man called Alwin, a self taught gardener with very green thumbs.

You still work in the kitchen though, food is always needed for the growing community and together with Alwin, you and the other kitchen manager have made plans for what plants to cultivate for maximum harvest.

You leave the community center and the kitchen behind one afternoon when spring has almost moved into early summer, Jack wobbling next to you. He loves to run but his legs aren’t really stable enough so you keep your hands ready to catch him as you follow his unsteady gait towards the stable. Frankie has been working on putting up an extension to the storage building, three foals had been born this spring and next winter more feed would be needed to keep all the horses well fed.

Frankie spots you and Jack as he jumps down from the hay loft, “Hey Jack, look at you go!” he calls to the grinning boy, and Jack speeds up, trying to run to Frankie.

“Da! Da!” he gurgles excitedly as you stop him from toppling over.

“Yeah, that’s your Da,” you laugh as Jack sets off again, tilting at a precarious angle. ‘Da’ could mean dad but also ‘horse’, ‘there’, ‘food’ or any number of things that might catch Jack’s eyes. But right now there’s no mistaking who he means as Frankie catches him and sweeps him up over his head in a big swing. Jack shrieks with laughter and Frankie spins him around an extra time before setting him on his hip, one arm securely around the boy’s back, as the other catches your waist, pulling you in so that he can kiss you as you put your hand behind his neck.

“You’re early,” he mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip and demanding another kiss, before he pulls back to look at you. His sweaty curls are unruly and flopping around his ears and forehead, his cap nowhere to be seen, and the spring sunshine has given him a tan, the tip of his nose slightly pink, and you have to give it a peck.

“We were done with planning and dinner is already sorted, so I thought we’d come surprise you,” you smile at him, “You really need a haircut, remind me tonight and I’ll give you a trim.”

“Sure, and I think Jack needs a trim too, either that or a hair tie,” Jack’s blonde curls are blowing in the wind and threatening to fall into his eyes but they are so cute that you’ve been putting off cutting them. Just like with Frankie’s curls, they were irresistible for wrapping around your fingers as you caress his soft head while he falls asleep.

“How’s the new building going?” you ask and Frankie turns to point up towards the roof.

“We just finish-”

You suddenly hear running footsteps from the main street and Josie, one of the people on guard duty today, comes rushing into the stable yard. You feel Frankie stiffen next to you, cutting himself off and instinctively reaching for his rifle that’s leaned against the stable wall.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Josie pants, taking a deep breath and wiping her forehead, “You need to come quick, there’s people at the gate!”

“Are we under attack?” Frankie lets go of you and grabs the rifle but Josie shakes her head.

“No, but people,” she says, “asking for you! Come on!” She turns and starts heading back the way she came and you glance over at Frankie, hope suddenly burning in your chest and you see that he’s had the same thought. With Jack still on his arm you both hurry after Josie.

By the time you get to the gate it’s already open and you see a patrol returning, horses, men and women, coming through.

And then you both see them at the same time, two tall blonde men on horseback, and your heart leaps. Will spots you and his face splits into a wide grin, throwing his leg over the horse and jumping down.

“Fish!!” Benny yells, startling everyone around him, but he’s ignorant of it, throwing himself off his horse, sprinting towards you both. You laugh as you see Eve throw her hands in the air at being left on the horse as Benny takes off, behind him you see Will help Diana off her horse.

Benny stops short a few feet in front of Frankie, looking from him to Jack and back again, Jack’s big blue eyes are staring at Benny.

“Fish, I swore I’d fu-..” he bites his tongue, looking at Jack, “I swore I’d smack you, when we found you, but you’re holding a baby,” Benny blinks at Jack, looks over at you, and back at Frankie, “You have a baby?!”

“Come here, dumbass,” Frankie laughs, stepping over to Benny and giving him a one armed hug, “So fucking good seeing you, we were starting to get worried.”

Will grins as he reaches you and picks you up in a bear hug that makes you giggle, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

“Fuck, I missed you Will, missed you so much,” you smile, willing yourself to not start crying as he puts you back on your feet.

“Missed you too,” he grins and takes a step towards Frankie, smacking him on his shoulder, getting his attention away from Benny, who lets go of him. The two men hug, you see Frankie blink his eyes rapidly, clapping Will on the back, but then Benny grabs you, picking you up just as high as Will and shaking you back and forth in his iron grip.

“So fucking good to see you!” he laughs, squeezing you tight enough to make you tap his shoulder.

“Missed you too Benny, but jeez, let me breathe please,” you laugh, your feet a clear foot off the ground.

“Come one, give her a break,” Diana chuckles, and you find yourself being hugged by both women, your tears starting to drip, you don’t think you’ve felt this happy in a long time and Benny wraps his long arms around the three of you.

“Great place you’ve got her, but did you have to move to the other side of the fucking country?” he says, grinning down at you as you wipe at your eyes.

Will and Frankie join you and Will tucks his arm around your waist next to Diana as you all stand in a tight little group, grinning at each other, not quite believing that you’re all here.

“So who’s this little guy?” Benny asks, putting his finger out for Jack to grab.

“Long story,” Frankie says, “but we met his mother on the way here, she was dying unfortunately, so we took care of him. She told us her brother was out in Wyoming with a group of people, that’s how we met these guys,” he gestures at the patrol dispersing around them.

“And now he’s ours,” you smile down at the grinning baby, “His name’s Jack, named after his uncle, but unfortunately he died before we found him, so we felt kinda responsible for little baby Jack.”

“He’s adorable,” Diana says, smiling at Jack and getting a toothy grin back, “And being parents suits you,” she says, “you guys look happy.”

“Yeah, you do, happy and healthy,” Will says, looking at Frankie who dips his eyes to his boots, reaching out and taking hold of your hand before he looks back up.

“We are…I am, really happy, and healthy,” he smiles, glancing over at you, “I’ll tell you all about it later, but yeah, I’m doing really good, better than ever I think.”

“Good to hear, man,” Benny says with a grin, clapping Frankie on the shoulder.

Maria approaches the group with a smile, looking at the newcomers.

“I take it these are your friends from Boston?” she says, holding out her hand and introducing herself to them all.

“I’m going to guess you’ve had a pretty long and rough journey so I’ll let these two take care of you tonight,” she nods at Frankie and you with a smile, “I can imagine you have a lot of catching up to do too. I’ve assigned all of you to the house across the street from the Morales’ for now, but there’s another empty house if you’d rather live separately with your partners.”

“Thank you very much, “ Will says, “We really appreciate it, thanks for letting us come here, taking us in like this.”

“Oh, we’ll make you work for it, don’t worry,” Maria grins, giving you all a wave before she walks off.

“C’mon,” Frankie says, “Let us show you your house and then we’ll sort dinner at our house.”

“I cannot believe you have a fucking house, Fish,” Benny grins as the six of you, and baby Jack, set off down the street.

“Yeah, I’m getting used to it now but it was weird the first few months,” Frankie says, “and then we got electricity, we managed to fix the dam last year, and it started feeling like normal life again.”

“You’ve got hot water?” Eve asks, you can hear the hope in her voice and it makes you laugh, you remember the feeling of the first hot shower you had once the electricity was working again.

“We do indeed,” you say, smiling at her as she bounces on the balls of her feet, “and lots of it.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to drown myself in a hot shower….” she sighs and Benny hooks his arm around her shoulders.

“You n’ me both, babe,” he grins, “together and-”

“And maybe we really should look into that other house Maria mentioned,” Will interrupts, as you and Diana laugh, “I am not sharing a house with my baby bro again.”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, “I’ll ask Maria which one it is tomorrow. There are still plenty of empty houses around Jackson.”

“This is us,” Frankie says, as you all arrive on your street, and he points to the dark green house that’s now yours, “And you guys are in this one, for as long as you want.” He points across the street to a pale yellow wooden house with a porch similar to the one that wraps around your house.

“Nice, very nice, you guys!” Benny is already pulling Eve by the hand towards the yellow house and you all follow them inside. It’s sparsely decorated but clean, most of what the previous owner left behind is still here.

“There should be clean towels and sheets upstairs and I’ll get you soap and shampoo from the community center,” Frankie says, showing them all around as you get the fire going in the living room and turn on the heating.

“It’ll take a while for the water to heat up but the rooms should start getting warm straight away,” you say to Will as he wanders into the living room again. You stand up and put the fire guard in front of the fireplace and he comes over and puts his arm around your shoulder with a smile.

“It’s really good to see you two again,” he says, looking down at you, “seeing Frankie doing so well, he looks like a new man.”

“Will, I’m really sorry we took off without saying anything to any of you, especially right after Santi…”

“I know, I get it,” he interrupts, “If you’d come to me and told me what you planned, I would’ve stopped you, or probably gone with you. I know you did the only thing you could to save Frankie, he needed to get away from Boston, from Joel, he wasn’t strong enough to withstand it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to leave Diana behind, or bring her on a really risky venture,” you take his arm and lead him to the couch in front of the fireplace and you both sit down, “I know how loyal you and Benny are to Frankie, but I…I couldn’t risk your lives, or Diana and Eve’s, for Frankie’s problems.”

“Yeah…” Will sighs, “I understand, I would’ve done the same, if Benny had those problems, I’d do anything, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to risk their lives.” He nods, looking over at the fire that’s spreading warmth across the room, “He’s lucky to have you, what you did…” he looks over at you again and gives you a crooked smile, “you’ve saved his life more times than he even knows.”

“I know,” Frankie says and you both look up, he’s standing at the doorway, looking at you with a warm smile. “I know I owe her everything, even from before the outbreak, she was always way more than what someone like me deserves.” He comes over and sinks down onto the couch next to you and pulls you in under his arm, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

“Good, I’m glad you know it, or I would’ve had to let Benny knock some sense into you,” Will grins

“I keep telling you, you deserve a lot more than what you think, Frankie,” you say, leaning into him. His soft brown eyes look down at you and there’s a hint that maybe he’s starting to believe you, after all these years as he smiles. You can’t resist, even though Will is sitting right next to you, you reach up and press your lips to his, and you can feel him nip at your bottom lip. Will clears his throat, but chuckles as he shifts in his seat.

“Keep that shit in your own house, please.”

“Yeah, you’ve got an entire house to yourselves, please keep that out of my house,” Benny snorts as he walks into the room, baby Jack snuggled on his hip.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” you laugh as Jack happily tugs at Benny’s long hair.

“Yeah, he’s a cool little bean,” Benny grins as he carefully unfurls Jack's chubby little fingers, “and with a killer grip, ouch, little man, give me a break!”

“He used to tug at Frankie’s beard all the time,” you say, “he had to keep it short or Jack would rip all of it out.”

“And I know, I didn’t have much to start with,” Frankie says, “I’m just saying it before any of you point it out.”

His remark makes you all laugh and Jack happily joins in.

“I think the water is hot enough now, so I’m jumping in the shower,” Diana says from the doorway, “and there’s shampoo and soap and everything up stairs too.”

“I’ll come with you, honey,” Will says and pushes himself off the couch.

“We’ll let you guys get cleaned up, settle in,” Frankie looks over at you as Benny hands you Jack, “we’ll get dinner sorted so just come over whenever you’re ready, you know where we are.”

…

You glance out through your kitchen window as you chop some fresh buckram for the chicken, you can see Benny through the window of the other house, pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt as he talks to Eve. It feels surreal, but also like the most natural thing in the world, to have them here, in a normal world, finally. To have your best friends, and Frankie’s best friends, living across the street, cooking dinner for them, looking forward to a long evening of catching up.

Behind you Frankie comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, the tip of his nose pressed against your neck.

“Jack’s asleep, out like a light,” he murmurs, “too much excitement I think.”

“We should hire Benny as a nanny,” you smile, “they were great together.”

“Yeah, Benny was always great with kids, probably because he’s a big kid himself,” Frankie chuckles, “I’ll go let them in,” he says as you see the four of them leave their house, Eve gives you both a big wave as they spot you in the kitchen window.

You hear them tumble into the house, Benny is telling some story about deer and even though your back is against them you can sense Will’s exasperated eye roll at his brother.

You put the tray in the oven and clean your hands, grab the whiskey bottle Frankie has left on the kitchen table and follow the noise into the living room.

“So tell us, what took you so long to get here?” Frankie asks, pulling glasses from a cabinet, “and what happened to the radio, all we heard was that FEDRA shut it down.”

“FEDRA was listening in, like we suspected,” Will says, “They came in the next morning before Sean even got there and took everything, equipment, notes, spare parts, left nothing.” Will takes a glass of whiskey from Frankie and groans as he sips it.

“Good stuff, Fish…” he takes another sip, “And we had to run, we got a tip off from Sean’s grandkid that they were coming for us, were gonna take us for planning on leaving the QZ. We grabbed our bags and got out, didn’t plan anything, wasn’t time.”

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, “surprised you even got out of Boston like that.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy,” Will shakes his head, “we got caught just outside the wall, had to take down a couple of FEDRA soldiers and Benny was grazed by a bullet.”

“It was nothing,” Benny scoffs, “I’ve had much worse, and on the bright side, we got their guns and ammo, made things easier down the line.”

“Yeah, we ran into a bunch of raiders who tried to ambush us,” Will continues, “took them out and stole their truck, a FEDRA truck they must’ve stolen from a patrol. We made it pretty far in that but winter hit early in Nebraska, the roads were impassable and we couldn’t continue. So we decided to stay at an isolated farm we found, way off the main highway. It was untouched, full of supplies, the luckiest fucking find of my life, it saved us,” Will shakes his head, looking over at Diana, “it got pretty rough for a while there, before we found it.”

Diana nods, taking his hand in hers, “I don’t think we’d be here if Will hadn’t scouted ahead and found it. Eve and I were starving, didn’t have clothes for the cold, but Will got us through it, saved us.”

“Ironhead lived up to his nickname,” Benny grins, but he’s looking at his brother with a rare softness, “I was starting to give up on us just as he came back, middle of a fucking blizzard, barely any shelter, couldn’t light a fire in all the snow, we were all freezing. Di’s right, if Will hadn’t found that farm, we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Alright, tell us how you got here, Fish,” Will shrugs, changing the subject and taking a deeper sip of the whiskey.

Frankie gives Will a shrug in return, “It was rough, but we got here easier than you I think. We took that car we had stashed, and got pretty far in it. But we…I…” he looks over at you and you put your arm around his waist, giving him a small hug, “I had to stop, the withdrawals got too bad…she had to take care of me while I got it out of my system. After that we got half way through Nebraska, where we found Jack and his mom, and then almost all the way before we ran out of gas. Walked for two days before Maria and Pat found us.”

“I know I yelled at you over the radio,” Benny says, looking serious, “but I’m glad you guys left, even the way you did it, and I’m really fucking glad you got through it. I just wish you’d fucking told us how bad it got before it got that bad.”

Frankie nods, looking at the toes of his boots as he usually does, but then he draws a deep breath and lifts his eyes and meets Benny’s gaze, “Yeah, I should’ve told you all, right from the start, I knew you guys would have my back, but I was too ashamed, just too ashamed of admitting how bad it got,” he looks over at you, you’ve still got your arm around him and meets your eyes with a steady look, “I was afraid she’d think I was too much work, how fucked up I was, and finally give up on me,” Frankie leans forwards and presses his forehead against yours, “but now I know she’ll never give up on me.”

You smile and cup his cheek, letting your thumb stroke his scruffy beard, “Never Frankie.”

Frankie gives you a small smile before he sits up straight again and his eyes go dark, losing some of the softness they just had.

“One of us is missing,” he says, glancing around the room, “and it’s my fault. Pope should be here now too, but I failed him, I fucked up and he had to pay for it.” Frankie’s voice wavers before he draws a deep breath, you can see how he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “I think about him every day, how much I miss him, h-how good it would be to have him here.”

His voice breaks and you can feel tears filling up your eyes as you reach out and take his hand, unfurling his tight fist, smoothing it out under your fingertips.

“You know Pope would be proud of you for how far you’ve come,” Will says, “you were always his brother, and because of it, he was always the hardest on you when you fell back into it. But now, Frankie…he’d be so happy and proud of you, with your wife, and baby Jack.”

Benny suddenly stands up, pulling Eve with him, raising his glass.

“We need to make toast, to Pope,” he says, looking around at all of you as you get to your feet. Frankie puts his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, your arm around his waist, holding him tight.

“We should all say something to him,” Benny raises his glass higher, “we never got a chance to send him off back in Boston, but now we’re all here, together again, and safe, we should say something.”

“Go first then Benny,” Will says, motioning to his brother and Benny looks into the distance, gathering his thoughts before he begins.

“Pope, you could be the most annoying fucker ever, but the best wingman I’ve ever had, from the first day we met back in basic, to the very last. I miss you man, but I’ll see you again.” Benny fights to keep his voice steady and draws a deep breath before he looks over at Will.

He rubs his hand over his face before he slowly nods, “Santiago, you drove me fucking insane with your crazy plans, but somehow you always knew what you were doing and I learned to trust you and your instinct, it never failed us. My greatest failure is letting you down at the end, I hope we meet again so you can tell me how we should’ve gotten you out in time. I miss you brother,” Will looks up at the ceiling, raising his glass and you all do the same.

Frankie draws a deep breath, he doesn’t know how he’ll keep his shit together for this, but he needs to do it, with everyone here, it feels like Pope is listening.

“Hermano,” he begins, looking up at a vague spot on the wall, gathering his thoughts, before he feels tears well up in his eyes and he has to draw a deep breath, “hermano…I fucking miss you, miss you so fucking much. And…I…I have so many things I wish I’d done differently…but I did what you said the last time we talked. I got past it, with her help, and I did it for you, and for her. You said we’re family and I really wish Jack could meet his tio Santi. But I know you have a job to do, wherever you are, and I know you’re looking out for her until I’m there to see her again,” Frankie pauses, drawing a deep breath, his eyes overflowing as he looks down at his toes, “Tell her, her dad loves her. Te quiero, hermano.”

He raises his glass, taking your hand in his, holding it tight, and the others do the same, “For Santiago Garcia, the best brother anyone of us could ask for, for lost friends, for family, and for a better life.”

“For Santiago,” echoes around the room and you sip the sharp whiskey, letting it burn on the way down. You feel Frankie’s eyes on you and as you meet his eyes he leans closer, his lips finding yours, pressing warm and soft against your mouth.

“For family,” he whispers.

Epilogue

So here we are, at the end. As in most stories, the story continues, but outside the frame. There is an epilogue coming too, but this is where the story ends. I am pretty emotional about writing the very end of this, it's been with me since April and I never thought then that it would grow so much in scope, in length. I love these two fools so much and I love how much in love they are, how through it all it's what keeps the two of them together and fighting for the other one. It's very hard to say good bye to them and I'll miss them so much! But I think I'll have to update the intro to this story to help any new readers tackle it! I think I'm close to hitting 300k words… Thank you everyone for all your comments, your reblogs, your love, your encouragement and support! It's a cliche, but I never could've kept going if you all hadn't kept cheering me on, saying so many lovely things about the story and making me want to keep sharing the ideas in my head. Love you all!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: Longest Night

I imagine it's tricky for a family that's 3/4 vampires to celebrate the regular batch of holidays. But a kid deserves to be festive now and then and there is a handy time of year for nocturnal sorts to celebrate.

December 21st, the winter solstice, the Longest Night.

You can read under the cut or on Ao3 here.

There were three holidays in the castle.

One was St. George’s Day Eve, which neatly held hands with the boy’s birthnight. Father was always called away for the hunting of blue flames, but after the celebration of the night with Papa and Mum, Father would be waiting for him by his coffin at sunrise. He would have a coin harvested early from the earth and some gift of his own to give. It was good.

Another was New Year’s Eve. To the boy’s knowledge, this was considered the birthnight of Time itself. He would get to unwrap a fresh calendar to hang and do something called a ‘toast,’ though there was no hot crisp bread involved. Papa would down a glass of something that burned the boy’s nose to smell, then Father, Mum and the boy would take a single quick sip and welcome the New Year. Papa’s blood always tasted different after those drinks, a little singed, but somehow nice and swimmy on the tongue. It was good.  

But the best was Longest Night.

Longest Night was preceded by the crucial private magic of Shortest Day. No one was allowed to be up and awake during the Shortest Day, or else the joys of Longest Night would not happen. The Visitors that came by daylight were swift and skittish and would not stop to deliver their bounty if anyone was up to spy on their work. They might skip by regardless if they were not left the token of food before all were in bed by sunrise.

“What do they eat?”

“Whatever a home has to spare for a plate,” Papa told him. “Sweet things, usually.”

“Like the pep mints?”

“Peppermint, yes. Biscuits, cake, chocolate.”

This had worried the boy at first. Papa tasted sweeter in December from all the Longest Night things he and Mum put together in the kitchen. Once, Papa had been doing something with pieces of fruit, cloves, and spices, the result pouring perfume out of the bowl and through the air. And, perhaps not quite by accident, Papa allowed one of the hard little cloves to cut his thumb.

“Oh dear. Could you help me, Sweetheart?” Under his breath, smiling, “Quick!”

The boy rushed to put his mouth to the cut. Papa’s blood hit his tongue in a new way. He thought of the red-white candy that had shown up after Papa’s last errand—

“You had pep mint!”

“Peppermint. Yes, I did. Is it any good?”

“Have to check.” Another sip. Another. “Checked. Very good.”

“Good.”

Good, but sweet. What if..?

The Visitors will not come for Papa, Dearest.

Mum’s hand on his shoulder, her smile on her face and in her son’s mind.

He is for us alone. Besides, he would not fit on a plate. On that note…

The boy watched his mother’s gaze float to Papa, something of either mercy or conspiracy in her look.

…it need not be desserts alone. It is cold out for those who are not like us, and the Visitors would surely appreciate something with more heat in it. Supposing Papa is willing to part with some of his paprika.

“Absolutely.”

Something to keep in mind for the Eve before Shortest Day. But for now, we need to hunt for the tree.

The tree was very important for the Visitors. They were wild folk who were used to taking and receiving bounty in wilderness. Unless the boy wanted the gifts from them all left piled against some random trunk in the forest, the castle needed a tree of its own. One they could shelter and dress so that there was no mistaking it as the tree to stop for. The boy was scrupulous in seeking this particular quarry. It could not be too tall or too short, too spindly or too thick. There must be no animals living in it, not even the bats; though he knew already from Father that they had all taken off to their caves for the winter. It must be just right.

Eventually they came upon it, powdered in snow and sweet-stinging with its aroma.

This one?

“This one!”

Mum cleaved the trunk from its roots, hoisting it as airily as she might have carried the boy. They returned to the castle and set it within the stand that Papa had built for it. Then came the decoration. Threads of nutshells and dry berries hardened to beads were wound around the boughs, ready to turn to kindling once it came time to break the tree up into firewood. Give or take a few wooden ornaments the boy painted himself. He was still hanging them when Father appeared. Standing and staring and silent as the boy worked.

Father had allowed Longest Night to happen because of Papa. The boy knew so. Young as he was, there were some realities that one accepted without needing the Lesson laid out in words.

It was especially easy to accept as the boy had spoiled his own attempt at wheedling Father about holidays not so long ago. He had found one in a book on a high shelf in the library. The boy had clambered up to it for the sake of its pretty leather spine and flipped through it in awe of its illustrations. One in particular had arrested him. Even what little bits of the poem-story that went with it seemed somehow simpler to ingest than the rest of the dense writing about a king named Arthur and his many legendary knights. The image that held him was all holly greens and reds, with a wide-eyed young man gawking up at an emerald giant in knight’s armor, holding his own severed head as it rained blood. Beyond them, rows of knights and King Arthur himself stared over their banquet tables.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight had much the same bones as other fairy tales he was privy to, but the boy had caught on a word that had yet to show up anyplace else in his storybooks. A word that carried with it implications of revelry that was meant for adults as much as children, a thing of games and gifts and feasting and joy that nobody grew out of. A miserable fate that seemed to be the case with birthnights. The boy was alone in celebrating his, despite Father, Mum and Papa surely having birthnights of their own. It suggested to him that birthnights would go without celebration on some distant grownup year. But a holiday! Those stuck. And they were for everyone.

All this in mind, he had come to Father with the book under his arm and asked, “What’s Christmas?”

 Father declared that Christmas was two things. First, a dreamed-up fiction for the imaginary knights in the book to celebrate. Second, a topic the boy was not to mention again. Now give him the book, diavol. 

Foolishly, the boy had hugged the book to himself, citing the fact that it was in the library, and Father had said he could read whatever he liked in it, and—

“Boy,” Father had said, soft as a knife cutting snow, “you have a moment to consider whether you wish to disobey me.” Father’s eyes had flared. “There, it has passed. Now give me the book.”

The boy had given it. Father had given it to the fireplace.

Knowing he wasn’t to cry and waste blood, the boy had held his tears in. At least until he was outside, far from the courtyard and tucked up in a tree, weeping until he was the color of Papa’s hair. Mum had found him. They’d returned home only when they felt sunrise plodding toward them. The next nights had been odd. Different in the way they had been after Father had torn Hoppy to shreds.

That time before had ended with Father taking him aside for a lecture on the folly of pining for weak animals that would only break one’s heart with their frailty, capped with the gifting of a wolf crafted from downy fur and glass eyes. The boy had managed to tamp back joyous tears then, embracing his Father through an armful of plush.

The atmosphere of those preceding nights had settled thickly again. And it came, as it had before, from Papa. It was not so fiery as Father’s presence or as icy as Mum’s, but it was there. No one was more aware of it than Father. It might have been funny in a book: Father growing more and more agitated the more sedate Papa turned, until Father was left pacing and fuming while Papa went silent and almost frigid with patience. Until, finally, a week’s worth of nights passed and Papa and Mum came to the boy with talk of Longest Night. A thing left uncelebrated thus far because Father was not one for frivolity and Papa and Mum had left off holidays when they came to live in the castle.

Why?

“Your parents want for so little here, diavol,” Father had broken in, lupine smile back in its place. “It seemed unnecessary for us to bother with such rites. But you are here and young and new enough to want such things.” A clawed hand had flapped as Father dismissed them and himself. “Revel with it as you like.”

 And that had been that.

Now here was Father, scrutinizing the tree, curling his lip at the decoration.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

“Not for me. I am not the one expecting a tree wearing nothing but nuts and berries to stand out from every other in the forest. Even painted, it will hardly catch any Visitor’s eye.”

The boy sat up with a shiver, “It won’t?”

“I am afraid not. Your Papa and your mother, they hail from a choked and choking city with little in the way of nature. It is no wonder any meager flash of green caught attention there. But here, in our verdant mountains, there would need to be more applied. This?” He flicked one of the nutshell cords Mum had helped him with. “Will be as good as invisible.” He held up his hand before the boy could speak. “I have something that may be of use. Supposing you wish to bother with it.”

The boy was already adhered to his side. Off they went, up, up, up to Father’s own bedroom. There, piled in the corner…

“The coins will not hang, of course. But these?” Father hooked a dust-caked golden necklace. A ruby huge as a hen’s egg and bright as his own brooch dangled on it. The boy was already enamored with a chain of twinkling emeralds and a bracelet dewed with diamonds. “If these do not snare attention, the Visitors must be blind.” They were perfect and the boy told him so, pausing in his elation to embrace his Father’s leg tight enough to break an ordinary man’s bones. “Yes, yes. Take your bounty, magpie, and be off.” But Father lingered to watch as the boy loaded himself up with chains and cuffs enough to make him jingle all the way downstairs.

“Mum! Papa! Father had more decorations!”

They saw. Mum kept her expression even while Papa straightened with something like recognition. Yet this moment passed as the work of stringing the gold along the boughs began. The tree glittered and blazed as though it had been crafted by a giant’s jeweler. Given the chance, the boy might have sat up with the tree all day just to stare at it.

“You need to rest, Sweetheart. There’s more to do tomorrow.” Papa held out a sheet of paper and a sharpened crayon. “Remember?”

The boy squirreled himself away with the stationery, scribbling carefully in his coffin. Another important thing to remember about Longest Night was that the Visitors were not like himself or Mum or Father. They couldn’t just dip into someone’s mind and know what they wanted. If the boy did not write out what he wished for and have it sent out, the Visitors would be left to guess. Papa was entrusted with delivering his list in the post on his next errand in town. Father even let him seal the envelope with his own stamp, the wax writhing with a scarlet dragon.

With that done, now he had to consider what gifts he would bring to the tree. For the Visitors were not responsible for every present brought. Families wrapped and traded gifts among themselves too. But oh! What could he give that his parents, who wanted for nothing in the castle? Worse, how could he do what even the Visitors couldn’t, and guess the answers? He was not as smooth as Mum or Father when he peeked into a mind; even Papa caught him at it. There was simply no knowing without being found out. So…

“Mum?”

Yes?

“If…someone wanted to get you something for Longest Night, what would it be?”

 I need nothing and want little, Mum assured, her hand soft in his hair. But I suppose if I had to want something, it would be my loves, safe and happy.

That hardly narrowed it down, but the boy didn’t say so. He went to Papa.

“Papa, is there anything you want that you didn’t ask the Visitors for?”

“My family safe and happy.”

“No, I mean something that can go in a box.”

“Do you not still fit in the coffin?”

The boy huffed away, still puzzling. Surely Father would have something he wanted. Father was never satisfied. There had to be something he—

“The things I want are not delivered to me, diavol. If I want a thing, I take it. Besides,” Father’s teeth shined bright and sharp as icicles, “I have you and your mother and dear Papa. You are gifts that give every night in new and wonderful ways. As to anything I want beyond that?” A shrug. “Those will come to me in time. …Oh dear, such a look. Whatever is the matter, child?”

“I can’t wrap any of that! Mum and Papa didn’t say anything I could wrap either! Longest Night is only a few weeks away and I don’t know what to make or to find or—or anything!” He stared glumly out the frosted window as the moon stared glumly back. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t give anything.”

“Mm. So you shouldn’t. Folk such as the Visitors do take such a sour turn if they think they spy someone being selfish. Yes,” Father nodded with solemn weight, “you must have something to offer. I dread to think what would happen if the Visitors discovered you left your poor parents with nothing. Come.” Father rose and turned on his heel. The boy scrambled after him. “We shall find them something fitting.”

Again, the trip to Father’s chambers. The boy left it beaming, his new treasure hidden inside a blanket.

“But Father, this is all for Mum and Papa. What about yours?”

Father only grinned, insisting, “The Visitors know I am lord of this castle and Count of these lands. I would draw ire myself if I went bothering anyone for excess. No, diavol, that you would give these gifts from my hand and yours is fine enough.”

Time passed. Games were played. No titanic knights came around asking to have his head lopped off, thankfully. Although the boy did treat himself to one snowman he dappled all over with coniferous green before knocking its head off with a twig.

Other than that, he built up a whole snow family with Papa. Father took him flying to see the entire valley from above, mute and lovely in its winter white. Mum started a snowball battle with him that stretched for some nights off and on. It might have been shorter had Father not joined his side and made a war of things. And that too might have ended in a short victory if Father were not distracted by the boulder of a snowball that struck him from behind. Papa dashed away from his vantage point and into the trees. Father, being himself, gave snarling grinning chase. While they were off playing hunt, the boy pleaded a tired and happy truce to Mum. Towards dawn, Father tromped home with ice on his boots and Papa in his arms, drowsy and swaddled in Father’s cloak.

After that was the Eve before Shortest Day.

The boy could scarcely sit still all night. He would swear the clocks were going slower and that Father was somehow stretching the night out even further by covering up both moonrise and sunrise with extra helpings of cloud. It wasn’t until Mum and Papa sat by the fire for stories that he ceased fretting. This was Longest Night tradition as well.

“I thought grownups always did story time all quiet, reading to themselves.”

“Usually we do. But on this evening, and on through the last nights of the year, we like to tell stories to each other.”

Often frightening ones. We understand if you do not wish to listen.

But the boy was already in Mum’s lap, sharp ears up and mind alert. Mum told her stories. The boy shuddered through some and gasped over others.

Would you like to stop?

“No…” came from under the boy’s blanket.

…Would you like Papa to tell one?

“I’d be happy t—,” The boy popped his head out the blanket and twisted in his mother’s lap. Papa told his stories. They were not half so scary as Mum’s. A few even made him laugh. It was at the end of one of these that he heard the rooster outside begin to crow. The boy sat up as if pinched and went running to the nearest window. Too many clouds and a new swirling of snow and no hint of daylight yet, but the rooster always knew when the sun was coming. It was time.

“The plate! Mum, Papa, we need to set out the plate!” They set it out. A thing with biscuits and hendl and a helping of hot chocolate in a little cup. The boy pinned a note of thanks under fork for good measure. “I’m ready to sleep now.”

Dearest, the sun isn’t even up. Are you sure?

“Very sure. It’s time for everyone to sleep. Please.”

“Mm,” Papa nodded. “And you won’t be up running circles around the vault past sunrise?”

“No. I’m going right to sleep.”

Some hours and a sunrise later, the boy was up and pacing. Just to tire himself. That was all.

That doesn’t feel like sleeping.

The boy returned to his coffin. It was tricky to lay there with all the secret flotsam hidden inside with him. He managed to keep his eyes shut until roughly noon. Then he went slinking toward the stairs. Just to see if the Visitors had come. Nothing more. Nothing—

“Were you going somewhere, diavol?” This time the boy almost yelped aloud. Father almost never bothered to be awake during the day. But for Shortest Day, he had sat and lurked upon the stair. Waiting. “Were you?”

“No, Father.”

“You were just stretching your legs, perhaps?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I was stretching mine too. Now sleep.”

The boy dragged himself back to his coffin and flopped despondently into his covers. Shortest Day was a lie, he decided. It was actually the Longest Day. Perhaps even an eternal one. It would never ever end and he would be doomed to toss and turn in the coffin forever and ever and…

He woke to the tell-tale shift of day falling to dusk. It bristled in his bones. Carefully, carefully, the boy peeked from his coffin. Mum and Father were still in asleep. He gathered up his hoard of gifts and crept on half-mist feet up the stairs and away to the tree. Elation almost made him fumble the crookedly wrapped packages.

The Visitors had come and gone. Presents stood waiting under the twinkling branches. The plate and cup were empty. Scrawled on his own note in tiny block letters was a message of thanks in return from the Visitors; they looked forward to next year’s trip. The boy snatched the note up for his pocket, tucked his gifts behind the tree, and ran.

Up to the tower, dashing to Papa’s bed. How could he still be asleep!?

“Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa—,”

“Yes, yes, yes?” Papa asked into his pillow.

“They came! The Visitors came and it’s Longest Night! You have to get up, come look!”

Papa lurched upright, bloodshot but smiling.

“I’ll be down soon. I have to put my coffee on. Are we the only ones up?”

“I’ll get Mum and Father!”

And he raced away before Papa had gotten both feet on the floor. He paused only for another giddy glance at the tree, then onward again. Mum was already sitting up in her coffin, taking a moment to stretch and stand.

“Mum!”

Yes?

“It’s Longest Night!”

So it is. Did the Visitors come by?

“Yes! There’s so much and it’s so pretty and Papa is getting up but he has to do his coffee first and Mum you have to go look at the tree and is Father up yet?” He wasn’t. Mum watched the boy lunge toward the great black coffin. The boy pressed himself right up to the lid, whisper-shouting, “Father. Father, it’s Longest Night. Are you up, Father? Father, you have to get up, come see! Father, Father, Father, Father—,”

The lid opened a crack. A red eye gleamed.

“I will rise when it is time I rise. Go with your mother.”

The lid closed.

Mother and son went up. Papa was there, a steaming cup in hand.

Counting a missing head, Papa asked, “Did he want us to wait?”

“Wait for what?”

Papa and the boy jumped. Mum narrowed her eyes. Father was in the room and wearing a robe the boy had never seen before. A thing of deep arterial scarlet lined in ermine. He dragged the largest armchair up to sit and watch as the boy assailed the bounty around the tree. Toys and books and a new little fishing pole and a music box and a dozen other fun little oddments were waiting, some from the Visitors, others from his parents. The boy was so dazed by it all that he nearly forgot his own part. Nearly.

“Your turn!” the boy announced to Mum and Papa who had just taken their own seats after clearing the mess away as paper flew. The boy took his own offerings from behind the tree and placed them proudly in their laps. Father’s grin sharpened as Mum and Papa unwrapped two leatherbound journals with fine fountain pens to match. “Father helped me find them. He said you were both such good writers when you all first met, but lost your diaries when you came to live in the castle. And see!” He shuffled some of the gifts aside to dredge up his own new sketchpad. “We can all do writing and drawing together! I want to make a book, maybe.”

Mum and Papa continued to smile, but a flint of hardness passed in her eyes and a melting fatigue polished his.

You would make a wonderful author, Dearest. You could illustrate your own adventures.

The boy pretended not to notice how her claws pricked the cover as she set the journal aside. Papa put his own down gently. His hand now free, he laid it on the boy’s shoulder.

“Are you forgetting one, Sweetheart?”

“Oh!” He was. The boy ducked back around the tree and came up with the third gift; one Father did not know of. Father’s grin actually faltered as the boy rushed up with the little package in hand. A tiny box smothered in butcher paper. The boy bounced on his heels as Father opened it with agonizing slowness. The paper revealed box of weathered secondhand shop velvet. This had not come from the boy, but his Papa. The gift inside had his touch too. “Papa waded out to get them before the river iced up. They came out all clean from the water.” Father said nothing, casting a steady glance at the back of Papa’s head. Papa nursed his coffee from one hand and twined his other with Mum’s. Father switched the box from his right to his left hand and gingerly wedged it open with his thumb.

Inside, gold shined in the shape of two coins. Their already-rough images were smoothed from the river and the metal was brighter than any token Father had dug up from under his blue flames. He stared at one and the other, turning them in his fingers.

“…These are quite old,” he said at last. “My own father would know them only from memory.”

“Papa said they were special since the blue flames wouldn’t show up over anything but dry ground to tell where treasure was, so those,” the boy pointed to the coins, “would’ve been hidden forever if they stayed stuck in the riverbed. And he taught me how to do buying with them.”

“It was a bargain,” Papa hummed. “I bought such a fine piece of quartz off you with my two little coins. Practically a steal.” So saying, Papa cast a smiling glance at Mum. Mum cast her own back, turning her gift from Papa over and over in her free hand, the firelight filling its pale crystal like magic. It turned out that Papa had taken the lump of quartz into town to have a man chip it into the shape of an owl for Mum. Mum had written Papa a slim storybook all her own and it now sat tucked within Papa’s robe, flat against his heart.

“A steal you say,” Father huffed. “It might be, if my eyes do not deceive me. Or have I gone without a gift from my friend and the mother of our son?”

Your eyes deceive you, Mum intoned, her gaze still firmly nailed to the clear stone owl. The gift is from us both. In the tree.

Father and the boy looked up. A large envelope the color of ivory balanced in the branches, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I can get it!” The boy misted his way up for it, pondering the crinkling weight inside. He turned it over to find Mum’s own elegant swirling script penned along the flap.

For Future Consideration

—J, M

Father took the envelope from him with even gentler, almost tentative care. He even sniffed it. Mum and Papa gave him only an idle glance. The boy fidgeted again.

“I can open it if you want.” He reached for the ribbon. Father swatted at his knuckles.

“Shoo, thief. Go play with your own spoils.” The boy retracted his hand and even went to sit among his presents, but his eyes stayed with Father and his gift. After some endless seconds, the red ribbon fell away, the envelope was opened, and out came…paper. A thick sheet so large that it had to be folded twice to fit within its broad container. Father frowned at this until he opened the entire thing. For once, the smile on his face seemed actually to reach his eyes.

“Father, what is it?”

“Art,” Father beamed. “Of a very particular kind. Perhaps intended to lure me away to France.”

“What?”

Father turned the paper around. It was a poster done in reds and blacks, showing a smiling woman with a narrow sword on a stage. A man had dropped flat past her feet while beyond them an audience sat and watched. There was another man dangling by a rope around his neck, looking annoyed. Above it all were the words Le Grand Guignol on a banner. It looked scary, but the style of it made the boy think of the funny comics Papa let him clip out of his newspapers. Light, almost silly, like the fearful things were there for the crowd to enjoy. The lady with the blade certainly seemed happy.

“It is for a certain theatre recently founded in Paris,” Father went on, raising an eyebrow again at Mum’s writing on the envelope. “They put on the most amusing plays, I’ve heard.” His gaze leveled first at Mum, then at Papa. “This is a fine thing to consider. Perhaps as a family outing some night.”

The boy sprang up.

“When?”

“When you are old enough, diavol.”

“But how long until that?”

“Long enough that you need not fret about it for some time, Sweetheart. Now, would you be kind enough to hand me one of the ribbons from your pile?” The boy wondered at Papa, though not deep enough to spy in his head. There was a surprise pacing somewhere behind the clear eyes. Another red ribbon was fetched. Papa took it and bound it around his wrist in a bow. It covered half of the boy’s past kisses. “Longest Night comes with feasting. I must fill myself up before I can be decanted.”

Mum and Papa took themselves to the kitchen and the boy followed at their heels. In time, Papa found himself seated at the dining table, trying to both stuff and pace himself between different portions, some heady, some sweet, some rich. He sipped a creamy drink with a funny name—the boy would whisper nog nog nog to himself off and one for the next few days in his coffin, giggling over the sound—and a little of cider and of chocolate and, when Father set down a gleaming bottle of it, something called Tokay.

Eventually Papa pulled away from the table, sighing.

“No more. I will burst.” He unwrapped the ribbon from himself and tucked down the heavy robe’s collar. “I fear I might sleep until the New Year after this.”

“You will do no such thing, my friend,” Father murmured into his neck. “We shall roll you down the stairs if need be.” He slipped his teeth into the bend between Papa’s throat and shoulder. The boy thought he did so with a lighter kiss than usual, almost nipping in the way of a wolf nibbling at his kin in play. Blood welled just the same and Father lapped it clean. Mum went next, just as gentle, nursing in a steady stream. When she pulled away it was with a bloodless kiss to Papa’s jaw.

Thank you, Darling.

Last came the boy, fitting himself carefully on Papa’s wrist. He couldn’t say whether it was the bliss of the holiday or the seasoning of Papa’s meal or some dizzying blend of both, but the kiss tasted better even than his birthnight sip after Papa had sampled the cake. The boy sucked every droplet from his teeth and gums, savoring as best he could.

“That was a really really good kiss, Papa. Is that part of Longest Night too?”

“Perhaps,” Papa said sleepily. “Or else it was the nog.” The word set the boy snickering into his hands again. The Longest Night unspooled and the boy swore again the names must be tricks. How else to explain how infinite the Shortest Day felt and how brief the Longest Night was? Too soon he felt the sunrise coming to herd everyone away to bed. Mum walked with Papa up to the tower. Before the boy could follow up and give his good days, Father halted him with a long white hand at his shoulder.

“Leave them for now, child. There is something waiting for you below.” The boy fought against the urge to race down and ahead. He stayed dutifully parallel to his Father’s long strides, hustling in his own short steps to keep pace. Down in the vault they strolled up to Father’s coffin. “I had my own trouble sleeping during the day. Such was why I was up on the stairs. I believe there is some lump in there that bothered me. Can you see it?”

Father lifted the lid. The boy saw.

Here was the last gift, another tell-tale rectangle whose solid weight spoke to a book hidden in its skin of crimson paper. The boy unwrapped it delicately at first, then in an unstoppable gleeful rush.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was in his hands again, this time only a solitary volume in its immaculate cover of gold and green foil lettering. He saw it was still made thick with artwork in a spread of fantastical painted visions.

“I shall be glad to bring you all of King Arthur’s legends should you still wish them some night in the future. Such are an old and favorite collection of myths penned in your Papa’s distant England, but many tales are not quite suited for a child. I had thought I’d made the library safe for your eyes and burned my mistake to spare you. But this?” Father tapped the cover with his claw. “This I shall be happy to read and explain, should you desire its deeper meanings. But the lesson at its very top is something clear even to one so young.” Fangs flashed and eyes burned. “The weak live by the mercy of Powers greater than themselves.” The smile softened then, almost musing. “And I suppose the illustrations are to be commended if nothing else.”

The boy nodded at all of this but found his throat too tight to form words. He peered up at his Father’s face, high as the moon above him. His eyes asked. Father nodded and opened his arms. The boy leapt up and locked his small arms as far around Father’s shoulders as they could reach. Father held him close in turn. His throat stayed strangled with heat and his eyes threatened to betray him with the ruby twinkle of tears. He fought them back.

“Thank you, Father. I love it.” His face buried in the black fall of hair, his brow rasped against the trimmed wilderness of winter’s growing beard. “I love you.”

Father was quiet for a moment. His down-spotted hand stroked the small curve of the boy’s head.

“I love you too, diavol. Happy Longest Night.”

The boy wished him the same. He gave his love and his happy wishes to Mum on the way back up, racing against dawn.

Hurry, Dearest. He was half-asleep when I left him.

The boy all but flew. Papa was in bed, eyes still open for him. If only just.

“Did you enjoy your first Longest Night?”

“It was better than anything I thought it’d be, Papa. Why haven’t we done this before?”

“You were a babe,” Papa smiled, eyelids drooping, “and your parents had forgotten celebrations for quite some time. I cannot speak for Father, but your Mum and I did not have much celebration even when we were small. Our lives were very thin as children and stayed much the same as we grew up.”

“But then you met Father,” the boy beamed. “You came to the castle where everything is and he loved you like the princes in the books do.”

“…Yes. He did. And I loved your Mum. And now we live in the castle, where everything is, love and all. And where we forgot much of holidays, for there was no point to them. Not here.” Papa’s hand settled on him, light and cool as snow. His eyes shined like wet ice. Perhaps quartz. “Not until you. We might never have remembered the 21st of December without you, son. Thank you. Come here.” The boy came, folding himself into his Papa’s arms under the covers. His ear pressed to the faint drumming of the man’s heart. “I love you, Sweetheart. So much.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Mm.”

“Happy Longest Night.”

“Happy Longest Night…”

Soon Papa was asleep. His chest lifted and dropped with his breath, the boy clinging to him and the sound. He left a bloodless kiss on his Papa’s cheek as the first rays of sun arrived, lining the mountains in gold.

Down the steps.

Into the coffin.

The boy laid his head down and began to dream of the next Longest Night.

(This goes out to @ibrithir-was-here in particular. Happy Nearly Birthday, Merry Christmas, and a gothically grim-sweet Longest Night to you, friend.)

[ratiocowmilk]

I've been thinking of a Tokyo Ghoul AU. I know, kinda basic, but hear me out.

Just to preface: If you haven't seen/read Tokyo Ghoul before the basic setting is that people live alongside ghouls in fear. Ghouls are essentially super-human beings that feed on human flesh to survive. They can not eat regular people food no matter how hard they try. The good thing is that there are ghoul-friendly places that offer ethically sourced human meat. Other than that, the only way you would know if you're in the vicinity of one is if they reveal themselves, either by accident or on purpose. The weapons of the ghouls are called kagune.

More information and character stuff below!

There is a faction called Comission of Counter Ghoul (or CCG for short) that was created to solve Ghoul related crimes. And to detain them. The operatives are nicknamed Doves by the ghouls. Their weapons of choice are quinque, which are derived from the kagune. Most of this information is from season 1, so I'm aware that some things have changed, but this is the setting my AU is based on so I don't care.

Now that that's out of the way, I've been thinking of Ratio, Sparkle, and Ruan Mei as ghouls, while Aventurine, Topaz, and Robin work for and have family ties to the CCG respectively. Ratio and Ruan Mei are the careful types, while Sparkle is a little more wild with it. She will go out hunting for her own food, and if it's a bust, then she crashes at Ratio's place to lay low. Ratio, on the other hand, relies on the safer resources and will rarely go out to hunt. He will only do it if he's running low and is really desperate. Ruan Mei is similar, but she'd rather hire someone to do the dirty work.

Aventurine would be the type to use a defensive but brutal qinque, and at first, he doesn't see the ghouls as something worth mourning for. Whether it's a quick or painful death doesn't matter to him. The only missions he won't take are those involving kids. Topaz would opt for something quick, as she finds it a bit distasteful to make her opponents suffer more than they need to. If she kills a ghoul that was well loved by friends and family, then she'll buy a single flower to bring home to respect the dead. Her coworkers (cough Aventurine cough) think she's weird for applying humanity to them, but she's just doing what she believes in. Robin, on the other hand, simply has ties with the CCG. She finds it distasteful that the CCG treats the ghouls as weapons to be harvested. She can't voice her discontent, however, or she'll be punished by the Family.

On to the actual relationships:

Aventurine and Ratio first meet at a cafe. Real meet-cute vibes. Aventurine falls in love almost immediately. Ratio, however, is wary because Aventurine is a well-known Dove. And while he is flattered, he would rather not risk the chance of betrayal down the line. So, while they exchange numbers, Ratio himself rarely starts a conversation. It isn't until Sparkle steals his phone and texts Aventurine a time and place that things start rolling. They go on a few dates and have a fun time, but when the topic of Aventurine's work comes up, Ratio's words become slightly stilted. Aventurine, at first, thinks he's simply scared of ghouls. So he decides to bend a few rules here and there to show off his qinque! Unlucky for him, it makes it worse because Ratio recognizes whose kagune it came from. Aventurine is unaware of this, so he keeps trying to show off how he works in eliminating ghouls. It isn't until Aventurine walks in on Ratio having a snack while on patrol that he gets it. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't know if he'll be able to kill him. His hands start shaking, there's recognition in Ratio's eyes, and he doesn't know what to do. Ratio gets away in time just as back-up come crawling in. Topaz gets one good look at him and says, "You finally get it now, huh?" And walks away. As soon as he gets home, he's spam calling Ratio to get some answers, but he always gets sent straight to voicemail.

Robin and Sparkle first met while Robin was sneaking out of the house. Sparkle at the time was looking for a good hunt but decided to spare Robin for another day. They have a fun night on the town before Sparkle, the gentle soul she definitely is, escorts her back home. Honestly, who would she be if she let some nefarious ghoul take her away? They dont know who each other are, just that they had fun. So they keep meeting up, and sometimes Sparkle will just break in unannounced and scare poor Robin. Eventually, Sparkle slips up and accidentally reveals her status as a ghoul to Robin, but instead of scorn, she's met with compassion. She doesn't understand it, but she's learned not to take things for granted, so she moves on. They fall in love gradually, but they are both aware that things could end at any moment, so they decide not to make things official yet. Unfortunately, the Family takes notice, and they call the CCG on Sparkle. As she runs through the streets for her life, she runs into Aventurine. He recognizes her almost immediately and offers her safety in exchange for leading him to Ratio. She has no time to think things over, so she agrees. When they reach Ratio's residence, he has one second of looking betrayed before Aventurine starts spilling his guts. Sparkle walks away because if she stays long enough to see them reconcile, then she'll feel extra bitter. It's not fair that they get their happy ending while she gets to rot. (She'll be unaware that in the midst of the chaos, Robin ran too.)

[passifloramoonlight]

Old and New Freshly Baptized Treasures in my Heart.

Harvest Equinnox happenings:

- Road trip to visit my Living Ancestors

- Ecstatic contact with the local River and blessing of stones with my Aunt, The Witch

- Wine and cards

- Ayote adventures once again! Creamy soup from a gifted ayote

- Hexennatch 2023 - The day is young and here’s to a equally substantial night!

Cheers to all hags and witches 🍁🍷 shoutout to @graveyarddirt for holding this space. Its such a joy to join along 💟💟💟

Some pics and post coming tomorrow 🍁🍁🍁

[escapetheslaughters]

Nobody Escapes the Slaughter!

Please read this...

Bloodmoon Memes W/O context

Silly Shenanigans

[This is an RP blog of the Bloodmoon twins - ASKS are welcome. Just be respectful... They can be portrayed as an AU of the TSAMS since we all know what happened. They have reclaimed nanites to eat/consume blood/meat/food. They have their own bodies with the ability to merge but prefer to be separated because it's double the chaos now. They know magic. DNI if you're sensitive to blood, vulgar language, suggestive shenanigans/phrases. Most of what is said IS SFW if now mildly suggestive at best.]

I am Grim. I am Reaper.

We are       🩸🌒Bloodmoon.🩸🌘

They own...

A bunch of red stained weapons (swords, daggers...)

A 2 year old black cat named Murder.

A 5 month old kitten named Mayhem.

A 4 month old borzois puppy named Cleaver.

A small blue isopod the size of a water bottle named Basher.

A tiny snake named Gore.

The boys have nanites to consume regular food and thanks to a nice Eclipse, they are not driven mad by bloodthirst.They are also learning magic. They still love blood and chaos itself. But they're TRYING to make friends.

The Bloodmoon twins consists of two individuals who are part of a whole.

Grim wears the blue outfit with swirl optics in which he may use to confuse and hypnotize his prey before eviscerating them. He is the more wild of the two, unhinged in volume of his voice and his actions. He tends to give into their cravings for blood. He is easily amused by the strangest of things. Bloody is stronger than Harvest and shorter. 7 ft tall, stocky/thick.

Reaper  wears all red and dons the pentagrams in his optics and on his chest. He is the control and often likes to plan attacks. He loves the thrill of the hunt. His cravings for blood are not as strong as his brother's but they are still present. He is the more reasonable (and sometimes lazy) of the two. 7.5 ft, slender.

Bloodmoon is 9ft tall, a perfect blend of the two. Their new body has 4 arms. The blend was done by @bumble-the-sun-bee

They live in a cabin in the middle of the woods roughly 20 miles away from the Plex.

Their family:

@animatronic-assistant They live with her as they have kidnapped liberated her from her Sun and Moon. She is Their Own(gf).

@eclipsen-smiles The Eclipse who helped fixed their code so they wouldn't be a slave to their code. This here is Father.

@thekillermaretwinz They adopted these two as their children.

@liminal---nightmare-aliza This is their Mother figure.

@malwaresilly An ally they now trust and were the first hunt they ever failed for the sake of making a friend instead. His is now seen as their Big Brother.

@multifandomcutie13 Astraia is their first human friend and they admire her strength and her choice of weapon. A chainsaw. (Their friendship is currently strained as Bloodmoon frightened her during an argument. They still care about her.)

This is the schematic of their home/the cabin.

[knight-elkwarden]

Carpet Drakes are a group of mostly aquatic ambush hunting hexapods found throughout the rivers and lakes of Har Fang. They are believed to be physiologically very similar to the first hexapods of millions of years ago.

While more common and diverse to the west of the continent, some species are still found in modest numbers to the east.

Giant Carpet Drake

Giant Carpet Drakes are found exclusively in the Musonese river basin, where the wide, murky, slow moving water offers them the best environment for their ambush hunting lifestyle. Despite their size and rather clumsy looking body, these giants are capable of surprising bursts of speed and have been known to capsize boats.

They readily see humans as prey, though they tend to back off if they realize their cover has been blown. Sometimes hunted by dragons.

Stubby Carpet Drake

A relatively small species. These drakes live in fast flowing rivers and streams, where they can easily anchor themselves to the riverbed with their long hooked claws. They are most often seen at higher elevations and in colder water, though they are very hardy and can survive a wide range of temperatures.

Not particularly dangerous to humans, but they will bite and scratch if they feel threatened.

Common Carpet Drake

The most widespread of the carpet drake species, hence the name. It is believed that it has either multiple subspecies or is multiple closely related species. These animals are found in almost any freshwater habitat and are extremely hardy creatures.

Not domesticated, but certain riverside communities have managed to tame some individuals. Caution should still be exercised when handling them since their bite is strong enough to sever fingers.

Musonese Carpet Drake

Despite the name, these creatures can be found outside of the Musonese river basin, though they are most common within it. They have a narrower body to help them navigate their often flooded and dense with foliage homes. They live only in warm and wet habitats on the western side of the continent.

Naturally skittish, but can be tamed pretty easily with enough patience.

Nyrian Carpet Drake

These carpet drakes inhabit the dry savannas and deserts of Har Fang, particularly Nyr, but neighboring regions also have populations of these creatures. The only known carpet drake species to aestivate, cocooning themselves in clay and water to stave off desiccation until the rains return and fill the watering holes.

Aggressive and will attack careless humans.

Kelp Stalker

Found wherever kelp forests exist. These derived drakes are the only known carpet drakes that lives exclusively in salt water. These ambush predators hide in the kelp to catch passing fish and other small prey. Closely related to the River Stalker and other free swimming carpet drakes.

Curious about humans and will follow them around sometimes, but tends to avoid dragons.

River Stalker

Fast swimming drakes native to the eastern side of the continent. Only known carpet drake that isn't an ambush predator. Highly social creatures, they are known to hunt in bands consisting of a dozen individuals. They can tolerate brackish waters, but are most comfortable in fresh waters.

Tends to avoid humans and dragons whenever possible.

Dwarf Carpet Drake

Found almost anywhere with fresh water. Thought of as something of a pest in cities, where they infest wells and crawl along roads during heavy rains. In the wild they feed mostly on small fish, insects, insect larvae and generally anything else they can fit in their mouths.

City dwelling dwarf carpet drakes are somewhat bold and will bite if provoked, but in the wild they are extremely skittish. Sometimes harvested by humans and dragons for their magical properties and general abundance.

Jewel Drake

Small tree dwelling carpet drakes from the Musonese river basin. A large number of jewel drake species are known, but they all have a few things in common: Vividly colored and highly poisonous. Their toxins come from their diet, and so people have figured out how to keep them as pets without the high risk of poisoning.

The species pictured here is known as the Ultramarine Jewel Drake. All species posses a sharp claw on their front two pairs of limbs, which can easily puncture skin and cause the poison on their skin to seep into the body. Caution is heavily advised when handling these creatures.

Root Serpent

Originally thought to be a serpent due to it's elongated body, it was eventually figured out that it was instead a carpet drake, though the name stuck. These creatures are found mostly in Musonee, where they hide among the mangroves, looking like roots to fool their prey.

A relatively popular pet and familiar in Musonee due to their elongated shape and gentle temperament.

[greyskyflowers]

Listen, I fully support the whole idea of demon Zoro but I think a small part of me will always root for a more war god/goddess approach.

Hear me out because this goes in a few loops before tying together but my words wouldn't word right and my thoughts wouldn't thought right. So this is as good as it's gonna get and hopefully it kind of makes sense at the end. 🤷‍♀️

I listened to a podcast years ago that talked about how war goddesses always got portrayed as these terrible women, their stories warped until they were just bloodthirsty and vindictive.

But that's such a shallow, shitty take on them.

Yeah, war is bad. We all know that.

But war could be...

• defending your home

• fighting for the safety of your family and friends

• protecting yourself

• the only way to progress, justice, freedom, etc.

Point is, I love the concept of mother goddesses of war.

The ones that love their devotees with all their heart.

The ones that keep the fires going in the hearth and bring rain frequent enough to keep the soil wet

The ones that offer a full harvest and constant refuge

The ones that speak in gentle tones and vicious snarls

I love the ones that ride into battle beside their believers

The ones that wear blood like war paint and gently stroke your cheek with hands calloused from weapons

The ones that led the charge one steady feet and strong beliefs

The ones that howl like wolves, cry like ravens, and bring with them the wrath of a pissed off mother

The ones that stand in defense, tall and unmovable when someone has asked for safety, when called out for by those scared and desperate like all humans call out for their mothers when faced with death

The ones that say you will not die here because you are mine and I will come when you call

I love that.

I also think that type of role is very specific to the mother goddesses.

I also think that fits Zoro perfect.

The crew has not sailed without Zoro.

He's always been there, right next to Luffy.

He was the first, and that's important, meaningful.

He stands unwavering when they hide behind him, cling to his clothes or arms

He's safety when there's danger. Arguably, I'd even say more so than Luffy.

Luffy is kind of a wild card in a lot of situations and it's a guarantee he'll be dealing with the main big baddie, so it makes him a risky place to seek shelter.

It's a safe bet Zoro will be in the middle of the action too but he always seems more reachable than Luffy.

I also, personally, think Zoro knows absolutely everything that goes on in their crew and on their ship. He hears and sees it all.

I think the one of the worst situation someone could be in is having legitimately pissed of the strawhats.

Firstly, because they're all fucking crazy.

But more importantly, you're going to have Zoro and Robin looking for you.

Zoro carried the title of hunter. He regularly tracked people down for bounties before meeting Luffy.

Luffy strikes and strikes hard, but Zoro had to have patience, that relentless chase, hunting.

I think he lets himself be more loud and careless because of Luffy.

He settles under Luffy because he wants to. He has devoted himself to Luffy because Luffy is someone worth devoting himself to.

Zoro is fierce and strong but Luffy is a king, a god.

More importantly though, they balance each other, sometimes as opposites and sometimes as equals.

They provide something for each other that no one else quite can. They are the same breath in separate lungs.

Lightning and Thunder

Sun and Moon

Clouds and Stars

Sea and River

Blood and Bone

Skin and Steel