#hes literally drinking divine essence

[blushouyo]

kind of wish there was a special reaction from astarion when he drinks durges blood like there is for gale and karlachs blood

[calmcoldevening]

♡ Slashers as drinks ♡

Michael Myers — Water

• Firstly, it is good for the body (Michael can also be useful, yes)

• Secondly, if you replace many harmful drinks with water, your life will become much better. Well, if you spend more time with Michael, your life will get a little better (hey, he will kill all the people who somehow offend you, he will save your life from "bad drinks")

• Water is so delicious when you don't drink for several hours in a row. Seriously. Especially after some training. And so you come home after a long day, and you are greeted by this miracle (yeah, very friendly, especially with his emotionality) and you spend the whole evening together. Cute.

• Just, if you love Michael (I do), drink more water. And you will support Michael, and your body will thank you :)

Jason Voorhees — Morse

• It's sweet.

• It's delicious.

• This is useful, especially if it is at home.

• Well, just look at this adorable bun, it's impossible not to love it! It is so sweet and refreshing, like a delicious fruit drink made from fresh summer berries! It's like I'm back at camp again.

Bubba Sawyer — Cocoa with marshmallow

• Brighten up any of your cold evening with his warm, pleasant company.

• You, him and a warm blanket on the sofa in front of the fireplace, what could be better?

• This man has the most tremulous and loving hugs. His big plush body is literally created for pleasant, gentle hugs. And take another ginger cookie for both of you, and it will be the best evening of your lives.

• Cocoa will help you relax after a long chase after victims and dragging a heavy chainsaw. Bubba's tense body begs for such a pleasant rest.

Thomas Hewitt — Hot chocolate

• Like hot chocolate, it is very sweet and pleasant. Warms the throat and soul and all that.

• God, have you seen this divine man? I'm ready to kiss it all, it's the sweetest chocolate in the world.

• Lyude-Mae, thank you for raising such an incredible boy.

• Chocolate improves brain function and increases dopamine levels in the brain, isn't that a sign? In addition, the touch of another person produces dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin, which lift the mood and increase resistance to stress. Hugs?

Stu Matcher/Billy Loomis — Vodka

• Can I not comment on this..?

Vincent Sinclair — Milkshake (your favorite flavor)

• Oh, yes.

• Milkshake is especially good in the heat. A little cream, your favorite ice cream and some fresh berries (you can do without them) and voila, it turns out such a yummy.

• You can freeze and get ice cream. Multifunctional boy.

• If you start drinking, the cocktail ends in an instant, and then you want more and more... This boy is addictive.

• But he's so sweet...

Bo Sinclair — Pomegranate juice

• I just don't like pomegranate juice. But it's useful. Bo, what's the use of you? (Sorry if you like him)

Lester Sinclair — Mineral water

• Simple and tasteful.

• Lester is really like a mineral water. In a difficult moment, he will always offer his friendly shoulder so that you can lean on or cry.

• The best thing you'll find with a hangover...

• Quenches thirst better than sweet soda.

• If you add syrup to it, you will get a sweet fruit lemonade. This boy will help in all cases of life.

Pyramid head - Green tea

• Many people don't like it (for example, my dad), but if you try this divine drink, you won't be able to drink something else.

• Pyra is truly a gift to the universe!

• Improves well-being, skin condition, accelerates metabolism, improves mood and the name system... I can go on for a long time.

• Delicious both hot and cold (But the Pyramid head one is always hot as Hell...)

• This man is addictive.

John Kramer — Lemonade

• Simple and tasteful.

• You won't find a better alternative for the holidays.

• It's delicious. It's beautiful. This is always relevant. Eternal classics.

• With what other drink do you get to know the essence of this life?

• Chilled lemonade with ice cubes and mint...

Amanda Young — Red wine

• Oh, this baby is the best.

• Improves sleep. Any time spent with this goddess is fine, but sleep is especially good. Next to Amanda, you will only have sweet, pleasant dreams! Maybe even smut... I assure you, sleeping with her is a pleasure.

• Useful for pressure. If Amanda is around, your heart starts beating wildly in a chaotic dance, and the blood rises to your pale cheeks until this moment. Now you don't look so tired, right?

• Hugs and kisses with this gorgeous woman are like Paradise, so it's quite possible to say that she herself tastes like good wine.

Mark Hoffman — Black coffee

• He took my heart.

• No sugar is needed to taste this man.

• At first it seems bitter and nasty, but... Hey, pour me another cup, please?

• It's fucking addictive, and after a while you just won't be able to drink coffee with sugar.

• Where to sign to sell your soul to the Devil? I just want to drink this coffee forever (and have Hoffman forever, ahem)

• As black as his soul.

• Bitter, but delicious in its own way and damn sweet.

• For connoisseurs of true art and something truly beautiful.

Brahms Heelshire — Milk

• Baby Brahmsey.

• Helps you fall asleep. This man will ask for a bedtime story and a kiss before going to bed... And then he will throw you on the bed and ask you to fall asleep with him.

• You know, it's good for the throat if you're sick.

• Milk reminds of childhood ...

• Sometimes milk is nasty and Brahms too. If your mood is more towards tea than coffee, drink tea. Brahms will get mad and calm down. And after that there will be time for hugs.

Hannibal Lecter — Cognac

• This man is good.

• After his appearance in my life, I decided to connect my life with psychology and helping others (and after Kramer's appearance, of course).

• Always good. Especially if you are some kind of boss or a serious person, you should have cognac. In the movies, it looks like a success.

• This man understands exquisite things and looks so great all the time... Really cognac, there is no other way.

• Will support you on a lonely night and cheer you up when you meet some of your friend.

Will Graham — Black tea with milk/cream

• This is... Cute?

• My cousin had a grandmother, she always made me such tea. It evokes a feeling of nostalgia and comfort, as if I am back in childhood.

• This is the most comfortable character for me! So warm, sweet, sweet and pleasant ...

• It's unusual, especially if you try it for the first time, but it's delicious, I assure you.

• A combination of classic harsh tea and something soft and kind from childhood, Will is really the best.

• I want to get to know Will by sight. I want to hug him. I want to be him, okay?

[squiddyposts]

Thinking about Nerevarine x Serana yuri. Just two immortal gal pals who reminisce about the First Era together. Jaded veteran Nerevarine who's just so tired and has seen it all already x bright-eyed vampire noble who's seeing the world for the first time beyond her castle and books. That awkward moment when they realize that the reason Harkon feared death enough to turn his whole family into vampires was because Nerevar kicked his (and the other Nords') ass so hard in 1E416 that all he could do was watch, powerless, as the Nord Empire crumbled around him. Finding out that "dragon-born and far-star-marked" was meant all too literally when the two of them first take down a dragon together using techniques the Nerevarine learned during her stay in Akavir. Another awkward moment when the Nerevarine discovers that the Greybeards exist because Nerevar kicked Jurgen Windcaller's ass that hard at Red Mountain. Just general adventuring around Skyrim together. The two of them retrieving Auriel's Bow, and "what in Oblivion is it doing in the Forgotten Vale," and "I gave that thing to Mistress Therana back on Vvardenfell in the Third Era," and "why does it still smell like ash yams?" Defeating Harkon, Serana taking his katana for her own, and the Nerevarine tutoring her in Akaviri combat styles (she, of course, uses the Ebony Blade and/or Goldbrand as her katana of choice because she honors the True Tribunal). Traveling to Solstheim, and it's changed enough since the Third Era that it's a new experience for both of them. Crashing at Tel Mithryn, because Neloth owes the Nerevarine some favors and the Telvanni are cool with vampires anyways. Kicking Miraak's ass because the Nerevarine has a lot of experience dealing with up-jumped mortals with delusions of divinity by now. The Nerevarine bringing Serana along to go kick Alduin's ass, because the two are inseparable at this point, and besides, when else is the immortal vampire gonna get the chance to see what Sovngarde looks like? Finally, the two of them setting off to go adventuring to explore every corner of Tamriel for the rest of their immortal lives.

Also lots of hot blood-drinking action, because this is yuri we're talking about here. Corprus means no risk of Sanguinare Vampiris infection, and I'd imagine that the lingering traces of Lorkhan's essence in blood afflicted with the Divine Disease would make for an exquisite flavor.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading; Wednesday, April 10, 2024

march 27_april 10

VENERABLE HESYCHIUS OF JERUSALEM (C.408)

He was a priest-monk renowned in the Eastern Church as a theologian, biblical commentator, and preacher. He played a prominent role in the 5th-century controversy on the nature of Christ and was acclaimed as having annotated the whole of sacred Scripture.

Serving as a priest in the church in Jerusalem c. 412, Hesychius gained repute as a theologian and catechist so that by 429, he was recognized by chroniclers and the Orthodox Mēnologion (lives of the saints liturgically arranged by month) as the pre-eminent biblical interpreter and teacher of the church in Jerusalem and Palestine.

Most of Hesychius’ writings have been lost, although scholarship in the second half of the 20th century continues to identify more of his works hidden among Greek manuscripts and Latin translations. His biblical commentaries include interpretations of the Old Testament books of Leviticus, Job, Isaiah, and Ezekiel. A celebrated moralistic annotation on the Psalms that had long been attributed to the 4th-century spokesman for orthodoxy, Athanasius of Alexandria, is now acknowledged as Hesychius’. Some earlier commentaries of probable authenticity contain germinal terminology of the heterodox Nestorians.

As a biblical exegete, Hesychius generally followed the allegorical method of the 3rd-century Christian theologian Origen of Alexandria. Hesychius’ preoccupation with symbolism led him to deny that a literal meaning could be found for every sentence in the Scriptures. In order to avoid heretical interpretations of Scripture, he rejected such philosophical terms as person, essence, or substance to express doctrine on the nature of Christ. On this point, he allowed only the term logos sarkotheis (“the word made flesh”), a biblical concept. Against the diminution of Christ’s divinity by Arius and his Antiochene followers, he veered toward the view of the Monophysites.

Credited with the earliest known liturgical addresses on the Virgin Mary, Hesychius also wrote a church history after 428 that controverted Nestorianism and other heretical beliefs. This text was incorporated into the second Council of Constantinople proceedings in 553. The works of Hesychius were published in the series Patrologia Graeca, J.-P. Migne (ed.), vol. 27, 55, and 93 (1866).

Source: Encyclopedia Britannica

THE MONKMARTYR EUSTRATIUS OF THE KIEV NEAR CAVE (1096)

Martyr Eustratius of the Caves was born in the eleventh century at Kiev into a wealthy family. As an adult, he received monastic tonsure at the Kiev Caves monastery, after giving away all his possesions to the poor. Saint Eustratius humbly underwent obediences at the monastery, strictly fulfilling the rule of prayer and passing his days in fasting and vigilance.

In 1096 the Polovetsians captured Kiev and ravaged the monastery of the Caves, doing away with many of the monks. Saint Eustratius was taken into captivity, and was sold into slavery with thirty monastic laborers and twenty inhabitants of Kiev to a certain Jew living in Korsun.

The impious Jew tried to make the captives deny Christ, threatening to kill those who refused by starving them. Saint Eustratius encouraged and exhorted his brother Christians, “Brothers! Let none of us who are baptized and believe in Christ betray the vows made at Baptism. Christ has regenerated us through water and the Spirit. He has freed us from the curse of the Law by His Blood, and He has made us heirs of His Kingdom. If we live, we shall live for the Lord. If we die, we shall die in the Lord and inherit eternal life.”

Inspired by the saint’s words, the captives resolved to die of starvation, rather than renounce Christ, Who is the food and drink of Eternal Life. Exhausted by hunger and thirst, some captives perished after three days, some after four days, and some after seven days. Saint Eustratius remained alive for fourteen days, since he was accustomed to fasting from his youth. Suffering from hunger, he still did not touch food nor water. The impious Jew, seeing that he had lost the money he had paid for the captives, decided to take revenge on the holy monk.

The radiant Feast of the Resurrection of Christ drew near, and the Jewish slave owner was celebrating the Jewish Passover with his companions. He decided to crucify Saint Eustratius. The cruel tormentors mocked the saint, offering to let him share their Passover meal. The Martyr replied, “The Lord has now bestown a great grace upon me. He has permitted me to suffer on a cross for His Name just as He suffered.” The saint also predicted a horrible death for the Jew.

Hearing this, the enraged Jew grabbed a spear and stabbed Saint Eustratius on the cross. The martyr’s body was taken down from the cross and thrown into the sea. Christian believers long searched for the holy relics of the martyr, but were not able to find them. But through the Providence of God the incorrupt relics were found in a cave and worked many miracles. Later, they were transferred to the Near Caves of the Kiev Caves monastery.

The prediction of the holy Martyr Eustratius that his blood would be avenged was fulfilled soon after his death. The Byzantine Emperor issued a decree expelling all Jews from Korsun, depriving them of their property, and putting their elders to death for torturing Christians. The Jew who crucified Saint Eustratius was hanged on a tree, receiving just punishment for his wickedness.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_OCA

ISAIAH 26:21-27:9

21 For behold, the Lord comes out of His place To punish the earth's inhabitants for their iniquity; The earth will also disclose her blood, And will no longer cover her slain.

1 In that day the Lord with His severe sword, great and strong, Will punish Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan that twisted serpent; And He will slay the reptile that is in the sea. 2 In that day sing to her, “A vineyard of red wine! 3 I, the Lord, keep it, I water it every moment; Lest any hurt it, I keep it night and day. 4 Fury is not in Me. Who would set briers and thorns Against Me in battle? I would go through them, I would burn them together. 5 Or let him take hold of My strength, That he may make peace with Me; And he shall make peace with Me.” 6 Those who come He shall cause to take root in Jacob; Israel shall blossom and bud, And fill the face of the world with fruit. 7 Has He struck Israel as He struck those who struck him? Or has He been slain according to the slaughter of those who were slain by Him? 8 In measure, by sending it away, You contended with it. He removes it with His rough wind on the day of the east wind. 9

Therefore, by this, Jacob's iniquity will be covered; and this is all the fruit of taking away his sin: When he makes all the stones of the altar like chalkstones that are beaten to dust, wooden images and incense altars shall not stand.

GENESIS 9:18-10:1

18 Now the sons of Noah who went out of the ark were Shem, Ham, and Japheth. And Ham was the father of Canaan. 19 These three were the sons of Noah, and from these the whole earth was populated. 20 And Noah began to be a farmer, and he planted a vineyard. 21 Then he drank of the wine and was drunk, and became uncovered in his tent. 22 And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brothers outside. 23 But Shem and Japheth took a garment, laid it on both their shoulders, and went backward and covered the nakedness of their father. Their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father’s nakedness. 24 So Noah awoke from his wine and knew what his younger son had done to him. 25 Then he said: “Cursed be Canaan; A servant of servants He shall be to his brethren.” 26 And he said: “Blessed be the Lord, The God of Shem, And may Canaan be his servant. 27 May God enlarge Japheth, And may he dwell in the tents of Shem; And may Canaan be his servant.” 28 And Noah lived after the flood three hundred and fifty years. 29 So all the days of Noah were nine hundred and fifty years; and he died.

1 Now this is the genealogy of the sons of Noah: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. And sons were born to them after the flood.

[spiritualsoul1969]

Mythology of the Yoruba: Gods, Legends, and Rituals

The Yoruba people of southwestern Nigeria and Benin are the custodians of one of the most vibrant and rich mythologies in the world. Their spiritual beliefs, deities, and legends weave a tapestry of profound wisdom and cultural heritage that transcends mere folklore. The Yoruba mythology is not just a collection of stories but a living, breathing guide to life that offers insights into the human condition, the nature of the divine, and the interconnectedness of all existence.

The Spiritual Essence of Yoruba Mythology

At the heart of Yoruba spirituality is the belief in a supreme being, Olodumare, who created the universe and all within it. Olodumare is omnipotent and omnipresent but does not directly interact with the world. Instead, the divine essence manifests through a pantheon of gods known as Orishas, each governing different aspects of life and nature. These Orishas are not distant deities but intimate spiritual entities that engage with humanity, offering guidance, protection, and support.

Major Orishas and Their Domains

Obatala: The Orisha of purity, wisdom, and creation. Obatala is believed to have shaped the first humans from clay and embodies the principles of justice, compassion, and peace.

Shango: The powerful Orisha of thunder, lightning, and fire. Shango represents strength, courage, and virility, and is often invoked for protection and success in battles and challenges.

Oshun: The Orisha of love, beauty, fertility, and rivers. Oshun is a nurturing mother figure, associated with sensuality, joy, and prosperity. She is often sought for matters of the heart and personal fulfillment.

Yemoja: The mother of all Orishas and the goddess of the sea. Yemoja symbolizes motherhood, nurturing, and the vastness of the ocean. She is revered for her protective and caring nature.

Orunmila: The Orisha of wisdom, divination, and destiny. Orunmila possesses the knowledge of the past, present, and future and guides humanity through Ifá divination.

Eshu: The trickster Orisha of communication, choices, and crossroads. Eshu is a mediator between humans and the divine, known for his cunning and wisdom. He ensures that sacrifices and prayers reach the Orishas.

Legends and Their Spiritual Significance

Yoruba legends are more than just stories; they are moral and spiritual lessons that provide guidance for living a righteous and harmonious life. These tales often illustrate the virtues and flaws of the Orishas, offering profound insights into human nature and the divine.

One of the most famous legends is that of Shango and his rise to power. Shango, originally a mortal king, ascended to become an Orisha after demonstrating unparalleled courage and strength. His story teaches the values of resilience, leadership, and the transformative power of fire—both literally and metaphorically.

Another powerful legend is that of Oshun, who, according to myth, brought prosperity to the earth by appealing to Olodumare with her beauty and charm. When the world was barren and devoid of life, Oshun's dance and offerings to Olodumare restored fertility and abundance, highlighting the significance of joy, beauty, and femininity in creation and sustenance.

Rituals and Practices

Rituals are an integral part of Yoruba spirituality, serving as a means to connect with the Orishas and seek their blessings. These rituals range from daily offerings to elaborate ceremonies involving dance, music, and drumming.

Daily Offerings: Yoruba practitioners often make daily offerings to their chosen Orishas. These offerings can include food, drink, and other items associated with the specific Orisha. For example, honey and fresh water are commonly offered to Oshun, while palm wine and kola nuts are offered to Shango.

Divination: The practice of Ifá divination, guided by Orunmila, is essential for seeking insight and guidance. Diviners, known as Babalawos or Iyanifas, use sacred palm nuts and interpret the patterns they form to convey the wisdom of the Orishas.

Drumming and Dance: Music and dance are vital components of Yoruba rituals. The rhythms of the drums and the movements of the dance are believed to invoke the presence of the Orishas, creating a sacred space for communion and celebration.

Sacrifice: Offerings and sacrifices, ranging from simple items to animal offerings, are made to appease and honor the Orishas. These acts of devotion are performed to seek blessings, protection, and favor.

A Divergent and Inspirational Perspective

Yoruba mythology offers a divergent perspective on spirituality that emphasizes the intimate relationship between humans and the divine. Unlike many other belief systems where deities are distant and untouchable, the Orishas are accessible and relatable, embodying both human virtues and flaws. This approach fosters a sense of closeness and personal connection with the divine, making spirituality a living and dynamic aspect of daily life.

The legends and rituals of the Yoruba people inspire us to recognize the sacred in the everyday, to see the divine in ourselves and our surroundings. This perspective encourages us to live in harmony with nature, to honor our ancestors, and to seek wisdom and guidance from the spiritual realm.

Practical Toolkit for Daily Incorporation

For those inspired by Yoruba mythology and seeking to incorporate its practices into their daily routine, this practical toolkit provides respectful and meaningful ways to do so.

Creating a Sacred Space

Altar Setup: Designate a space in your home as an altar to the Orishas. Include symbols, images, or statues of the Orishas, along with candles, incense, and offerings.

Offerings: Make daily offerings to your chosen Orishas. These can be simple items like fresh water, fruits, or flowers, presented with gratitude and reverence.

Daily Rituals

Morning Invocation: Begin your day with a prayer or invocation to Olodumare and the Orishas, asking for their guidance and blessings.

Evening Gratitude: End your day by expressing gratitude to the Orishas for their presence and support, reflecting on the blessings received.

Connecting with Nature

Nature Walks: Spend time in nature, acknowledging the presence of the Orishas in the natural world. Offer prayers or small offerings to rivers, trees, and other natural elements.

Water Rituals: Perform simple water rituals to honor Oshun and Yemoja. Pour fresh water into a bowl, speak your intentions or prayers, and gently pour the water onto the earth.

Learning and Reflection

Study Legends: Read and reflect on Yoruba legends, seeking the moral and spiritual lessons they convey. Consider how these lessons can be applied in your own life.

Meditation: Practice meditation to connect with the energy of the Orishas. Visualize their presence and seek their wisdom and guidance during your meditation sessions.

Engaging in Community

Participate in Cultural Events: Engage with local Yoruba cultural events or spiritual gatherings. This fosters a deeper connection to the community and the living tradition of Yoruba spirituality.

Share Stories: Share Yoruba myths and legends with friends and family, keeping the oral tradition alive and fostering a sense of communal learning and connection.

Creative Expression

Art and Craft: Create art or crafts inspired by the Orishas and their symbols. This can be a meditative and devotional practice, connecting you more deeply to the spiritual essence of Yoruba mythology.

Music and Dance: Incorporate traditional Yoruba music and dance into your routine. Use these expressive forms to celebrate and honor the Orishas.

Looking Ahead

The mythology of the Yoruba people is a profound and vibrant tapestry that offers unparalleled insights into the nature of the divine and the interconnectedness of all life. Through the stories of the Orishas, their rituals, and the wisdom they impart, we are invited to see the sacred in every aspect of existence. By incorporating these practices into our daily lives, we can foster a deeper spiritual connection, honor our ancestors, and live in harmony with the world around us. This practical toolkit provides a foundation for engaging with Yoruba mythology in a respectful and meaningful way, ensuring that its timeless wisdom continues to inspire and guide us on our spiritual journeys.

[dluxs8nt]

im hi laying in bed waiting for popeyes to arrive so might as well just bust out pt 2 for u while im all riled up and ready to go ehehe

~~~

u sit there in shock for a second. u scan his face, his features could slice u open. his eyes cut straight to ur heart. his smile melted ur knees. he sits there, making sweet sweet eye contact w u until u finally muster up, "i,, im danie.." "*!*NO NO NO NO. U ARE D TONIGHT. u can be lil d, u can be big D" fae nudges the person next to faer, "but u are D tonight. none of that necromancy bullshit, its time to be the phoenix fagguette u deserve to be!!"

u look in surprise and confusion at the pink haired femme in front of u who is looking at u visibly waiting for ur response.

"dont mind faer," Danny lightly grabs ur chin and turns ur head. "i can beat faer up if u want me to" everyone shrieks and chuckles. u giggle slowly as the tension melts away and u notice it was all a joke, but also, not really ur choice to say what the punchline was. u are who fae says u are tonight. or maybe daddy, i mean danny could take control of that. ud let him take control lf u any day. the sock in ur briefs is rubbing against ur boyclit as its gotten wetter and wetter the longer uve been smelling, looking at, engaging with, admiring Mxr D Lux. u suddenly, but slowly, awake from what felt likr a slumber and u notice that ur still standing but ur knees are bent and weak, ur right hand is holding into a makeup table and ur left hand is being tenderly held by Daddy. hes been slowly running the tip of his pointer finger along ur arm, making shapes, drinking in ur skin, ur essence, ur energy to know what fantasy ur looking for tonight.

"u wanna be someones lil bitch boy tonight huh?"

u just noticed that Danny stopped running his finger on u but u were still leaning with ur eyes closed in absolute euphoria. "uh, well, no, im not really like, interested in being a boy bu..." Danny springs up from his seat with a grace and control that sends him slowly floating towards u. his palm lands next to ur cheek and cups ur face and the other graces ur lips with the tips of his fingernails.

"baby, u can be whatever u want to be tonight. all of this is just drag, nothing more nothing less. take what u want from it, but its time to release ur inhibitions, babyboy. let go and submit to my manhood." he grabs ur hand and places it on his chest which u just noticed had KT tape binding down two mounds. "let me get inside u baby, and see what there is to explore in that mind." hes literally whispering in ur ear in the softest tone that u can barely even make out what hes saying so u KNOW no one else in the room heard what he had the gall and audacity to say to u.

"i dont want to do it, Daddy. pls do it for me." ur shaking, u can barely mutter these words.

"thats all i needed to hear baby. thank u for communicating ur consent. now, ur mine until it gets too much. just tell me when u wanna tap out, but i reeeeally, really hope u hold out as long as u can til daddy can really show u how good it feels to be a bitchboy to a nice soft dom femdaddy."

the amount of shivers going down ur neck, ur thighs, ur throbbing hole are enough to shake u up to almost exploding. u feel his hand go down ur spine. u realize u havent been cognizant of anYTHING going on around u since Daddy D Lux started whispering in ur ear. the room is almost empty and performers are running back n forth to find their things.

"ive got a reserved seat every night for a cutie, an egg, or a slvt to get an extra good spot to watch me. ull find it by the glittery red star. feel free to take that spot tonight baby, but dont expect it every night okay?"

"y-yes sir." sir?! u hadnt said sir since u were 13 talking to ur dad. what the fuck?!

"good boy, i like when u call me sir. keep it up, champ. now go out, im opening the show so i gotta hop up there. but knowing fae, Divinity is gonna be blabbing for at least another 8 minutes to "warm the crowd" which is code for fae trying new material and seeing who laughs at it. go, go! hurry." and he blows a kiss at u.

u immediately feel the blood rush thru ur body and especially ur face and hole and rush out of the room down the dark hall and out the curtain. u just need, NEED to sit down for a second cos ur knees could buckle at any moment. u find the seat w the red star and anxiously pound the heel of ur shoe into the ground as u bounce ur knee. ur therapist at that one group told u u needed to stop doing that to be polite n proper but something stopped u from letting that training takeover and u just felt like letting urself cope how u wanted to.

"DANIELA!!" WHO TF IS CALLING U THAT WHAT THE FUCK IS FOING ON OH NO U HOPE THAT DADDY DIDNT HEAR

theres feedback from the mic suddenly and ur eyes are pulled to the stage where the fae with the pink hair has been talking on the mic. "HOLD THE FUCK ON. U DID NOT JUST CALL MY LIL FAIRY FAJJUETTE A NAME WE SHALL NOT SPEAK TONIGHT. U THERE, WHATS UR NAME?"

u look around and suddenly a bright and bubbly girl with like green curly hair wearing low wasted jeans that hug her hips perfectly with a sequin thong popping out runs up to the stage, but doesnt get on.

she screams, "hhhiiiiiIiiIiIiiiIiIIIIII, my names Puk, like Phuket, iykyk"

"well Puk, sorry is it like pook or like puck"

"so its kinda like saying book but with a deep p, puk"

"perfect, well Puk, tonight that lovely lil gayboy is D and he is using he/him pronouns so pls do not disrespect the space and what we say goes. and if u have a problem, meet me outside, im from east side. u can find a seat now. thank u." hootering and hollering erupt out of the crowd. "AANYWAYS, this seems like a good segue into our OPENER!" everyone screams and cheers.

"this man, this animal, this daddy is unlike any other. he once was dead but rose up again into a master of masculine n feminine dominance. give it up for, the, Danny D Lux!!!!" u swear u feel the concrete floors shake as the crowd explodes with anticipation.

a low grumbling bass rings thru the venues hard walls and stiff floor. the lights cut, and a singular deep orange spotlight shines at the stage. what i can only describe as a swirling tent drifted ever so slowly into the center of the stage. a piercing guitar riff starts shortly joined by heavy hitting drums and then the bass starts back up. the tent begins to spin and slowly it unravels, how is it unraveling. it looks like its transforming into individual strands of red yellow orange white grey gold brown maroon, its a tunnel of fiery silks unraveling at the seems. until finally Daddy is standing, playing the bass inside this cone wire cage. he plays his heart out, digging deep into his core and letting his shoulders flow into each stroke of a chord. and then, he puts the bass on a stand, walks down the steps onto the concrete floor ans proclaims.

"we all come from ash. we all have been burnt. weve all felt the flames, of inner rage. well im here to say, let it out." i didnt even notice he grabbed a lighter but suddenly the entire cage was on fire and Danny was huddled under his cape as flames broke the frame of the thin cage. it fell around him in light flames onto the concrete, burning marks on the floor. then the full track started. electric guitars, orchestral pieces, heavy piano, dirty synth and heavy bass. there were few words in his entire performance, but the one that especially sticks with u is when he said, "i dont need to speak my body tells my story, its time to give in, its time to get whorey."

and then u remember. ur in his chair. and the whole time its felt like hes taken extra long eye fucking u while he danced, crawled, and did splits across the floor and stage. and if it wasnt clear enough, he even came up at the decrescendo of the song, sat in ur lap, and said "ur mine for the night, right?" and u desperately, hornily, hypnotically said, "yes sir."

and now here u are. its been 3 hours since the show and ur at the punkhouse most of the performers live in. and ur waiting for Dadd, no Danny to cum back with some wine, nothing fancy, just a boxed merlot. and u cant help thinking, is this the right thing to do?? is it bad if u want to do wrong things?? all u know is ur probably gonna like it.

but is that worth it??

pt 3 cumming

i need more aesthetics of forcemasc that isnt just rowdy rough stoner boy i need new wave forcemasc, goth forcemasc, cowboy forcemasc, punk forcemasc, jock forcemasc etc etc etc like where is the nun to priest forcemasc like seriously yall

[ellitx]

💚 said: My nsfw alphabet for a modern Au college Himmel I tried to make it the best I could I hope you like it 💚

submission

warning: NSFW under the cut

Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

• He’s usually pretty worn out after an intimate session so he keeps whatever you may need somewhere nearby, be it on a nightstand or in a drawer, mostly very clean during the act but will happily clean you up and message you after since he can get a lost in the moment and end up being a bit rough. 

• Also would love to take a bath or shower with you and hold you against him while you bask in the warmth 

• Gonna definitely want to just cuddle and nap afterward though, it’s his favorite to feel you close to him~

Body part (fav part on their s/o and themselves)

• Partners favorite body parts: Thighs, Butt, especially where your thighs and butt meet, hands, face but really loves your eyes

• Loves to just rub his hands all the way down your thighs, squeezing in all the right places, big bonus if you’re wearing tight stockings that accentuate the softness of them, also loves running his fingers underneath your butt and let his fingers get lost in the crease maybe slipping a finger underneath your panties.

• Loves to press his forehead against yours while making love and just look into your eyes, he wants that soul connection and wants to see your reactions to see how he’s making you feel, he very nervous and doesn’t want anything that could hurt you, he loves to intertwine his fingers with yours if they’re not gripping your hips~

Fav body part on themselves: Tongue, fingers

• Can tie a cherry stem with his mouth very skilled with his tongue and will use it to please and worship every inch of you, loves to drink in all the essence you spill onto his face, literally can’t get enough, loves feeling you squirm and wrap your legs around his head as he dives deep into you

• Got a few pointers from his brother on how to use his hands, the perfect way to curl them inside you, finding that precious bud that brings electricity flowing through you, to massage you till your spilling all over him will definitely lick the slick off of his hands afterward. Your divine essence is too addicting 

• “You’re so sweet my song bird… I want more…”

Cum (self explainatory~)

• Is very careful and clean with it, really doesn’t want any to happen, it’s either in a rubber or he pulls out into a cloth or tissue

• Is a bit melancholy on releasing in you, he really wants to but due to his frail body he’d feel awful if something were to happen to him while you lay barren with a child, he just wants the time to be right, but he does like to daydream of having a family, he wants you to focus on your career and life goals first as well as his but definitely wants to tie the knot and start a family later down the line.

• Feels so embarrassed by how much he loves it when you give him oral, your pretty little mouth feels so good around him, and when you swallow it makes his heart swell, and it’s even more erotic to see the bit of his seed dripping out of your mouth, it really feels like he’s been blessed by an angel, to have you so wholeheartedly take him in.

Dirty secret

• Thigh fucking and cockwarming in the bathtub very shy about asking though, it’s just something about your wet body against his, the nice smell of you and your soaps, its something so intimate and sensual he really feels like you really opened up to him, and him to you when he daydreams about this. Just feeling all up and down your wet slippery thighs and folds, skin glistening, and your scent? A perfect dream he hopes comes true~

Experience (how experienced are they)

• Not much, he’s a lot more innocent than his brother so anything he learned he got from him even though he’s the older one, probably snuck a few books outta his room when he was gone just to get the idea of what would make you feel the best~~ 

• Service top 1000%

Fav position

• Anything where he can see your face a grip your hips~ Sitting in his lap is a favorite though, having your head next to his to hear all of your moans and pants, feeling your thighs against his, your breast pressed against him, and if you wrap your legs around him?? Ethereal litterally everything he wants

• But this man can and will get lost in the moment and throw your legs on his shoulders and rut into pouring out every bit he has into you and with each thrust kissing you so deeply with his hands holding yours down not once letting go, hitting all the way to the to your cervix. Will apologize relentlessly after thought please comfort him

• “I-I’m so sorry my sweet. You’re just too much for me..”

Goofy (Are they teasing or more sentimental?)

• Mostly a quick laugh at any awkwardness that may happen but not much else won’t really tease much either really just wants to please and do right by you… it hurts him to see you cry.

• He really sees this as an intimate act between the two of you, both of you letting your walls down to fully commit to one another’s pleasure, vulnerability, and love doesn’t want to ruin the moment with too much teasing and joking.

Hair

• Again keeps himself as clean as possible, the carpet matches the drapes.

Intimacy (How intimate are they?)

• This man is extremely sensual and intimate.. he doesn’t want to have sex with you nono, he wants to make love to you~ sweetly softly deeply.

• Kissing and licking all over your body. Have any tension? He’ll massage you with nice scented oils. Stressed out? Let him eat it out from deep inside you then let him sit you on his shaft and let you rant about it, big fan of fucking the pain away~

Jack off

• Feels very timid about it, but if he’s really needy and you happened to not be there and he missed you, he’ll pull out that picture of you in that bikini, the one you thought you lost but the wind just happens to blow it to his little secret back drawer with a few pictures of you and a promise ring. 

• All in all only really does it when he’s been missing you and heard some lewd song lyrics on the radio.

Kink

• Cockwarming, praise, your moans, soft/lacey/bridal lingerie, shower /bath sex, Thigh fucking, and Library sex

• For cockwarming Really just likes feeling both of your bodies pressed together as one with him fully sheathed in you, just to take the moment in and holding you close, listening and feeling your heart beat deep within your womb

• The sound of your moans drive this man wild, will almost make himself release just by pleasing you, and gets a little sad if you cover your mouth or keep quiet 

• “Baby.. don’t stifle yourself please I wanna hear how good I make you feel..”

• Also ties into praise~ not only worshipping your body, kissing, licking, and softly bitting all the right spots, whispering how good you make him feel and how much he loves you, but he’s a bit insecure so it means the world when you moan out and tell him he’s making you feel so good big plus if you chant his name over and over with increasing volume~ 

• Another thing that will make this man malfunction is seeing you in white or pastel lacey lingerie, how befitting of his future angelic bride he thinks but he’s daydreaming again you both are still in college, but how it dips and curves into all the right places, digging into your soft form is ethereal, genuinely a goddess lay before him. Really wants to keep it on you as you fuck, it just looks so damn good on you…

• As stated earlier, you’re both still in college but when he noticed it’s just you and him in the library it takes everything in him to not bring you to a secluded corner to study your anatomy~~ especially if it’s been a stressful week.

• But when you two get home or when he’s staying over at your place he really wants to take a shower with you and have you both relax, but your wet naked form against his, with his hands covered in shower gel smoothing it all over your breast you can’t help but let out a moan and lean into his touch 

• “Aaah… Himmel this is.. what I needed…” 

• And from there how could he resist you?

Location (fav place to do the lewd)

• Would legit faint if he got caught being intimate with you, he’s not ashamed to have you as his lover no don’t get the wrong idea, he just doesn’t want anyone else to see him but especially you in such a vulnerable position… 

• Baby be a little possessive, thinks that he’s the only one that can see you that way, so 99% of the time wants to be behind a locked door in you or his home knowing no interruptions can be had

• But if that 1% happens when he’s really stressed and really needy he’ll take you into one of the secluded empty class rooms and bends you over a desk for a quickie~ and I’ve already went into his shower/bath kink.

Motivation (Turn ons)

• Again this mans a daydreamer, see some nice lingerie in a shop window? He thinks of you in it and gets flustered. Hears some suggestive song lyrics on the radio? Thinks of making love to you to it~

• If you bend over and can see the magical stripe of exposed skin where your thigh highs end and your skirt begins, bonus if he can see your panties too~ until you turn around and notice 

• “Himmel! Your nose is bleeding are you okay..?” Get this poor man a tissue

• Whenever you sit and your thighs squish and spread a little on the seat, yeah the thing you were self-conscious of? Drives this man up a wall, really wishes he could be that seat at that moment. 

• Will just gently place his hand on your thigh maybe a little squeeze if no ones around and if he’s feeling bold he’ll jiggle them, he loves the way they move and just wants to stick his face in them.. -w- 

• “M-may I lay my head here just for a moment please…”

No (turn offs things they hate)

• Degrading, spanking, pain, forced sex, BDSM anything that could hurt you really similar to his brother on this

• This is an act of pleasure and love and really doesn’t want to hurt you… He loves you way too much even if you begged for it would be really hard for him to deliver on something like that

Oral (giving or receiving)

• All he wants is to please you. Literally one of his turn on is face sitting (forgot to mention in kinks oops) sit on his face and grind against him whilst he drinks in all of you and rubs your sweet bud, he may climax from that alone, but if you were to bend down and place your mouth over his shaft whilst he’s devouring you? He will ascend might even come too fast but will be red faced after for sure. 

• “Don’t worry my love~ I want to bring you ecstasy while drinking up all your seed.. you please me so much let me give back to you”

Pace (fast or slow?)

• Really depends on if he can control himself, really loves slow deep sensual sex but can quickly turn into desperate-

• If he can control himself he’s gonna take his time to really feel you and make sure you’re feeling the best you possibly can, filling up your walls and sliding fully in and out with your fingers linked together or maybe holding you pressed against his chest with his head buried in the crook of your neck to hear those sweet moans of yours whipering I love you’s and how good you make him feel whilst sucking and giving soft love bites to your neck and breast 

• “Ahhh… my songbird you fill me with such pleasure… nnng… More..!”

• But if he can’t, oh boy you’re in for a ride~ His breathing gets raspy and erratic and his volume increases 

• “Haa..! I don’t think I..- y/n..! Can resist anymore..!” 

• He pulls your hips down harder as he ruts into with desperation his mind is only focused on how tight and warm your walls are and how they’re clamping shut on him. He wants to feel it even more so he throws your legs up over his head and hilts himself completely in you, hitting your sweet spot and cervix with such force it makes you see stars causing your tight coil to quickly snap and spill all over him causing him to quickly release feeling your walls squeeze around him 

• “Ahh… Ahh… I’m sorry… I couldn’t help it…" 

• Very shy and very worn out after

Quickie (do they like quickys or nah?)

• Only really when you really want to do it right then, right now but would rather take you home first so he can take his time pleasing you.

• Again maybe if he’s really stressed and it just the two of you, will fuck you in the back of an empty classroom

Risk (how willing they are to take risk)

• Not really gonna take a risk too much. You’re gonna have to bring it up to him but is willing to try new things as long as it’s not too messy and it doesn’t hurt you or him. He’s all about your pleasure after all~

Stamina (How long do they last)

• Going slow he can last a few hours with lots of foreplay, loves exploring your body and what feels the best for you, but he has a bit of a weaker body so mostly going to only last one round, but will do anything to make sure you come first. You name it you got it. he’ll slowly kiss the shell of your ear and whisper "Shhh.. now just tell me what you need… no shame here, I’ll pull the moon from the sky if my beloved so desires~”

• Going fast though, he’s not going to last too long but will force himself to keep going if you haven’t finished yet. Will be exhausted after and will fall asleep quickly 

• “I hope It was to your liking… my darling… I love you so much… y/n”

Toys (do they like or have toys?)

• Not really into toys but won’t be upset if you use one when he’s not around. Kinda makes his heart skip a beat when he finds out your masturbating to him and that you miss him when he can’t be there

• But will be heartbroken if you get more pleasure from it.. but will ask you what he could do better, how he can make you hit the sweet spot again and make you hit the peak like never before, might have to go through his brothers stash to gain more insight, he never thought he’d have a rivalry with a piece of plastic…

Unfair (How much they like to tease)

• Nuhuh nope not this man, only “teasing” he’s doing is light and I mean very light, slap on your butt to make it jiggle

• But if he spots other men talking to you or purposely looking up your skirt gets possessive that’s when he’ll mark you all over and you can’t hide it the next day, biggest “She’s mine” sign plastered in pretty blue and purple marks all over your chest and neck

• Mostly you’re the one doing the teasing. How? Existing. With the way your hips sway when you walk, the way the light shines in your crystalline e/c orbs the way your chest rises and falls with each breath has him completely whipped, he’ll just admire you for now until you two get home, or will he~?

Volume (how loud are they?)

• Mostly low moans and whispers right by your ear when he’s controlled with lots of I love you’s and praise 

• “You’re so beautiful y/n.. and you make me feel so complete… please don’t let me go…”

• But gradually gets louder as he loses his grip, breathing and moans becoming more shaky and ragged. 

• “Nnng..!! Please..! I love you so damn much.!! Haa!! Y/n..! Come with me I don’t know if I can hold it..!!”

Wildcard (random HC)

• Loves to do it outside on a nice blanket under the stars, thinks it’d be nice to stargaze and cuddle after if he’s still awake.

X-ray

• Hes a bit below average but is self-conscious about it, as mentioned before he loves to pleasure you with his toungue and fingers as well even better if you 69 and come together

Yearning ( how high is their drive)

• As stated earlier, it’s mostly his mind from outside sources that going to make him crave you and if you’ve been gone for a bit and not able to visit him due to work or studies. So about in the middle but can be up there if the situation arises

Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after?)

• Will try his best to stay awake for any aftercare you may need, but he’s a bit more weak and will fall asleep quickly almost clinging to you, your heart beat as a lullaby~

(whatever no anon fuck it -💚) hope it turned out okay not proof read

ANON!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS AN ENTIRE BANQUET FOR US HIMMEL SIMPS!

Hhhhh so delicious and they share some similar traits with his younger twin <333

Both love intimate sex and are very sweet after 🥺

And that toy part? THE TWINS HATE USING TOYS YES AND IT’S THEIR NUMBER ONE ENEMY IN SEX AISJSKSK it’s really cute and funny wwwww i can see him easily getting jealous if he discovers you have a dildo or vibrator kept in your room aksksk

Himmel bb i love you ughhh thank you 💚 anon for writing this i really love it so much 💕💕

[charmandhex]

“SooooOOOOOoooooOOOOoooo...” Taako draws out the word, interminably long, but Kravitz has to admit, it’s easier than the awkward silence that had followed as soon as they’d been seated in an out-of-the-way corner booth in the busy restaurant. “The, uh, the dead do eat after all, huh? I woulda thought the skin and bones thing was a bit more, uhhhhhhh, literal.”

It cracks both the tension and Kravitz’s facade. He drops the politely polished expression in favor of a snorting laugh. “Yeah, uh, yes, I can eat. I just don’t... hm. Okay, it’s like this. My essence, my soul, is sustained by my connection to the Raven Queen- that’s what allows me to do the whole spooky Grim Reaper thing as well as, well, look like my old self.”

“So you do really look like this then! If it weren’t for, ah, the ability to look in the mirror,” Taako waves a hand at his own face, “I would have thought a face that pretty had to have a little divine intervention behind it.”

Kravitz preens at that. And he could blame it on millennia of the Raven Queen’s influence, except he knows that it’s also satisfying his own vanity. Let a man live. Or, let a man exist. “Yes, oh, this is, this is all me. Or was. Now it’s- anyway. Because of my... let’s simplify and call it a job, so because of my job, I don’t need to eat or drink or even sleep or breathe. I haven’t even got a pulse, as you, as you kind of found out last time with the whole hands thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Taako nods, the bells and baubles on his midnight blue hat jingling and catching the light, for all the world making him look like a nebula in the night sky. And for a moment, Kravitz is appropriately starstruck. “Bit of a clammy one.”

“Just a bit,” Kravitz agrees. “But I can actually eat and drink and all that. But because I don’t need to, and because I, uh, what with work and all, I don’t spend a lot of time this side of the veil, it’s... been a while.” Kravitz looks down at the menu and the long list of items before him. “Food has changed a lot since then. What exactly is a lemongrass and clam foam anyway?” He asks, bewildered.

Taako perks up at that. “Hoo boy, then are you in for a treat, bones. Because I, Taako Taaco, in addition to being a, uh, pardoned death criminal, am an absolutely baller chef. You need suggestions, explanations? I got ‘em.” Now Taako’s eyes are sparkling even more than his hat, and Kravitz leans in.

“By all means then, lead the way. I’ll trust you with that. Not like I’d know the difference anyway. You could, you could put a rock on a plate and call it risotto, and I’d ask what wine to pair it with,” Kravitz jokes.

At that, Taako’s eyes crinkle up at the corners, and he lets out a laugh. Immediately, he covers his mouth, only half stifling the laughter and ignoring the heads turning in their direction. Kravitz, for his part, is thoroughly enchanted. “You weren’t- listen, you weren’t... there during the fight with Legion, right? So you didn’t see what happened with the Philosopher’s Stone, did you now?”

Kravitz tilts his head to the side, considering. “No, I suppose I wasn’t. What even happened to it anyway?”

And with that, Taako can’t hold back his laughter, breaking into renewed peals and earning dirty looks galore. At least until they make eye contact with Kravitz and his suddenly and mysteriously glowing red eyes. Then they turn around pretty fast.

It’s good to be the Grim Reaper.

“Right, right... right. That is. That is definitely a story, but, uh, probably not one for dinner or for date night.” Taako pauses, and Kravitz watches as his ears flick, the movement causing a few strands of hair to escape, falling into Taako’s face. “Um. We, we kinda talked about last time being a little, little bit of both, but uhhhhhhhhhh... this is, this is 100% absolutely a date, right, Krav? Can I call you Krav? Did I just make this weird?”

Kravitz nearly drops his water glass, and if he needed to breathe, he’d likely be attracting dirty looks of his own for sending water spewing out of his nose. “Oh. Um. Yes? Yes. Yes, this is 100% absolutely a date. Yes. Date. That we are on. Right now.”

Taako breaks into a wide grin, and if he’d been the night sky before, now he is the sunrise, light and brilliance dawning across his face. “Great! So, uh, in that case, how do you feel about fish? Cause, uh, this one right here-“

Taako talks food right up until the server comes by to take their order, with Kravitz hanging onto every word in rapt attention. And the meal, Kravitz’s first in quite a long time, is exquisite, but the company is even better.

Yeah, this was a date. A second date. A very, very good second date.

And Kravitz is looking forward to the third.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Exiled States the Obvious Pt. 1

Warning: May contain spoilers, may not be 100% accurate, sick ramblings, may break your heart upon debunking common theories

Some canon notes I've noticed and analyzed, this will be placed here not just for safekeeping but for other writers to be known of them too :DD

From Venti's story I; it is said that as a loophole to being refused to be served alcohol because of his appearance, he 'drinks on the job', performing while drinking alcohol the audience gives him instead of Mora (his own suggestion)

Story IV offers some interesting details from Venti's story quest: First, Decarabian truly loved his people and believed that he had done good for them. Second is that Venti was supposed to gift his friend an eagle's feather but wasn't able to do so because he died.

Venti knows how to forge Rex Lapis' signature. Venti knows how to FORGE REX LAPIS' SIGNATURE.

It confuses me how Venti and Diluc doesn't have some kind of estranged relationship knowing how aristocracy/monarchy damaged freedom in Mondstadt.

Venti has been to Celestia and it apparently fucking sucks. That or Venessa told him about it, but it still SUCKS.

The Anemo Archon can and will strip you just to protect his identity/secrets/past. Ask Mona.

Albedo and Klee in his trailer, we can consider this canon: Babysitting Klee includes fucking battles. Best big brother.

The way Venti talks about Albedo speaks of [How Earth is a thing in Space] [Creation of Human Life through Earth] which are direct points to God's (biblical) creation of the universe and humans. With the dialogue, Venti recognizes Albedo has Godly powers that can create such miracles, take this line with a pinch of salt tho.

A connection: The real reason Zhongli does not carry nor care about prices is because of his trailer, THE FUNERAL PARLOR LITERALLY CARRIES ALL HIS EXPENSES

Hu Tao's existence proves that Xiao has a sense of humor and it is MORE THAN LIKELY that the adepti knows and can casually smile or laugh.

This piece of work exists: "Sigils of Permission were once created by Rex Lapis and infused with adeptal power. During the Archon War, such talismans were used by mortals to channel divine power. Now, most of its power has worn off, but adepti will still refrain from harming its holder."

Xiao is actually less hostile/asshole-y in the Chinese version than the English one and should be taken as canon since, well, Mihoyo is a Chinese company. Lots of dialogues or voiceline connotations are lost in translation.

Zhongli's retirement scenario does NOT mean that the adepti will not be needed or will also retire (looking at you Keqing) because as proven by the fight, the adepti are still in need of protecting mankind.

The Qixing and Adepti all know he is not dead, stating he gave hints that he hasn't really died to them.

A huge possibility that Zhongli recites this line whenever he finishes or fulfills a contract: "The contract is fulfilled. That which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone."

If his words from the cool trailer is to be taken into heart, then Zhongli had long since cared for and protected humans, during the archon war.

Zhongli is not a MORTAL FUNERAL man, he is an ADEPTI FUNERAL man.

This broke God has the AUDACITY to go to operas, and not just any operas no no, "operas by the most celebrated performers."

He does not know shit about poverty because he doesn't know what it's like to be poor. He doesn't need to eat.

Besides the usual, he has more titles, some which are pretty funny: God of History, God of Stove. Liyueans(?) call him Rex Lapis, outside of his nation everyone calls him Morax. And in operas and children, he's more known as the War God.

Zhongli is very likely to cause divine intervention or sightings because a lot of stories and tales in Liyue about him are actually first-hand experience of accounts seeing the God himself.

Wrath of the Rock does not only mean Zhongli smacking asses with a laddle: Qixing of Liyue are officially responsible of punishing contract breakers.

Ningguang's role holds the big bad book of laws, with a whooping page count of 279.

This infomation is mostly for me to clarify Rex Lapis standing in the Seven: He is the first to ascend into Archon-hood, the one out of two remaining of the original Seven (Barbatos is second longest) and that besides him and Venti, the original Seven would also gather for wine in Liyue until they all left Archon-hood.

Zhongli really fuckin did a pest termination arc.

I repeat, ZHONGLI DOES NOT HATE SEAFOOD. To clarify, he hates TENTACLED seafood/cuisines. He can eat seafood tofu, happily.

It's so funny how the concept of "equivalent exchange" exists and is exercised in contracts, but not in a more dangerous aspect such as a l c h e m y.

The reason Jean is working as an Acting Grand Master is because the actual Grand Master is out on an expedition.

It is not normal for the Harbingers to be like Childe.

While battles and sparring is one of Childe's most usual traits, a lot of his character lines point to the fact that he's not outright looking for beating people up 24/7 and that his thirst can also be quenched by thrill or excitement.

General ones:

The other five archons do not uphold/focus on the duty of leading humanity, which was the prior responsibility of the original Seven.

I just realized the Archon War was literally about fighting to get a seat on the Seven. The way Archons are chosen are a mystery, just look at how Venti got his Archon-hood smh.

A pattern that we should consider but may be debunked in the future: A playable character MUST posses a visible Vision. So bye Scaramouche banner :')) pls debunk this Mihoyo

With Morax being unable to make Mora, economy is gonna be wack in Teyvat. In essence, every piece of Mora is valuable and will need to be circulated. Nations may fight to hold the most Mora and the one leading and already found a work around on this is actually the Tsaritsa, who has long since focused on economic power. This may not be coincidence.

Characters who are CANONICALLY good with children, to an extent: Ningguang, Beidou, Xiangling, Baizhu, Albedo, Jean, Childe, Ganyu, Xiao, Lisa. Italicized ones are the to an extent ones.

The Fatui has connections with Mondstadt, mainly the Ordo Favonius.

200 years ago sure is an oddly specific duration in Lisa's story and this might be expanded in the Sumeru chapter.

A clarification to a subtly known fact : It is the combined power of all the adepti that revived Qiqi, not just Xiao.

WILD CARD

Almond Tofu is NOT made of tofu. And in original Chinese recipes, it's not even fuckin Almond, it's goddamn Apricot seeds. But in Genshin it is canon Almond.

Tag lists for my homies that I want to share this with. Tagging other authors or lore enthusiasts are also greatly appreciated:

@heiayen @dandelion-dreams @karemelle @jrnightingale @galassyalex @boxofteenageideas @chels-void @starconch @worldsfool

PS I'm sorry for suddenly tagging you guys, I just thought it would be nice to share these with some authors that I know or have seen me, please tell me if you want to be removed, s-sorry in advance 👉👈

[pumpkincentaur]

Unholy Holy Things Worldbuilding | History, Lore, & Magic - Godsblood

Godsblood. The driving force of governments all across the Continent, and the reason humanity won the war against the tyrannical Gods. A most glorious gift indeed.

When the first Occisoran Emperor, Tiberia I, slew Zenobiel, first of the Gods to fall in the Greatest War, something within her changed. She was told by Malusiel, the Bloodied Traitor, to defile the corpse of the freshly-slain Zenobiel and drink his divine blood, and she followed Malusiel’s instructions, as he had promised her untold power would be the result.

And, miraculously, it was. The Bloodied Traitor had not lied. With the power of the slain Radiant Knight flowing in heir veins, Tiberia I was able to fight back against the Gods and raise a human force against them--a human force of Godbearers, who had killed Gods and drank of their essence just like she had. The power that became known as Godsblood won the Greatest War for humanity. The Gods’ own power sealed their fates forever.

But with that power comes a price, as the Gods knew all too well.

Godsblood as it is now is hereditary. It quite literally runs in the blood, passing between parent and child, down the family lines of the original warriors that fought and killed the Gods themselves. There are two types of Godsblood--Channel Godsblood, which channels the power of the God it comes from, and Vessel Godsblood, which carries the very soul of the slain God, passed down through a family line.

That was the price--true Gods are not so easily killed. Though the Gods were greatly weakened, and their bodies forever destroyed, the fragments of their souls that survived continue living in the hearts and minds of the descendants of their killers.

Taglist and more information under the cut. If you would like to be added to the taglist for Unholy Holy Things, please let me know, either by responding to this post or sending me an ask!

The basic premise of Godsblood is this: hereditary power passed down through the family lines of the original killers of the tyrannical Gods. However, the premise being simple does not mean that Godsblood isn’t a little bit complicated. However... exactly how Godsblood works will be explained in the actual text of Unholy Holy Things, as this magic system is integral to the novel’s story, and I don’t reaaaally wanna dump my entire concept publicly for the whole world to see before the book is finished. Sorry!

Taglist: @elywritesbydarkness, @scaevolawrites, @sprigofbasil, @maskedlady, @metanoiamorii, @anomaly00, @error-404-error-not-found, @hekat-ie, @aurieeeeeenyx, @kaseylynnwriting, @unholieds, @jauntymushroom, @tae-mv, @veiliza

[noyin]

Oooh okay! So I chose this prompt to warm up, so I’m sorry if it’s lacking in quality. Anyway! This is sort of a mash up, coffee shop/mafia AU that I thought of in which Janus is a mob boss and Roman owns a cafe. Enjoy!

Pairings: Roceit

Rating: Gen

Word count: 1,108

--

The thing about being in a gang, though Janus took pride in the notoriety, was that it was utterly exhausting. The passed week had been particularly draining, what with Remus committing arson every other day and Virgil needing a bail for a failed unarmed robbery. All week, Janus had been threatened by an especially nasty headache with no medicine on hand and never enough time to sleep.

And that was usually when he decided to spend a calm evening at the cafe down a nearby alley, the one with overgrowing flowers and warm lighting, with the smell of coffee and biscuits which beckoned people in. Oh, and the barista who ran it was pretty cute, too. That was always a plus in Janus’ books. Self care.

Anyway, come the end of the day, Janus found his feet taking him to the cafe several alleys down, following the smell of something sweet and warm. As soon as he stepped into the place, it felt like all of the tension unwound from his shoulders and he could finally relax.

From the counter, he could hear soft humming, and a melodic voice greeted him, “Welcome!”

The barista has a smile that made his heart easily swoon. It wasn’t like he had a crush—no, no, no, but the barista held the essence of a literal prince. Honorable, kind, sweet. And strong, too, strong enough to sweep helpless damsels off their feet.

Of course, Janus knew he was no damsel, but one could dream.

Janus removed his hat and tucked it under his arm, and sauntered up to the counter. “Greetings, Roman. You’re looking lovely tonight.”

Roman’s flashed another heart-swooning smile. “Ah! You’re too kind, Janus. For it is I who am graced by your lovely presence!”

Janus ignored the yearning ache in his heart to just pull the princely man into a kiss.

“Now, then! What can I get for you?” Roman asked, “If I may be so bold to suggest some lavender chamomile and shortbread?”

“That sounds heavenly, darling,” Janus said.

“Alright,” Roman said, “Can I get you anything else?”

Janus hummed as he pressed a crisp fifty on the counter. “Why don’t you get something for yourself and join me for a while?”

Roman grew visibly flustered as a blush flushed over his beautiful face. “Oh, I would love that. Just give me a second.”

The barista then rushed into the kitchen with a bounce of excitement. Janus, smug, turned towards the table by the window and made himself a seat. The night seemed cold and lonely, but Janus felt anything but.

It was only a minute or two later that Roman appeared from the kitchen, a tray in hand with two mugs of steaming hot tea and a plate of cookies. Hell, he even looked like a dashing prince charming.

Roman placed the tray on the table and it was not lost on Janus that he was softly humming ‘Be Our Guest.’ He then sat on the chair opposite of Janus.

“Please, help yourself. I have plenty more where that came from.”

Janus nabbed two shortbreads and his teacup. The smell wafting from the two made for a divine combination—the strong and soothing scent of floral tea and sugar reminiscent of homemade baked goods during the holidays. Janus couldn’t think of the last time he felt as warm and relaxed and…

Taken care of.

“So,” Roman said as he took a sip from his drink—it looked like cocoa. “How was your day?”

“Ugh, it was a day,” Janus grumbled. He took a nibble of his cookie and downed it with a sip of tea. “It was the physical manifestation of a dumpster fire, that’s what. Actually, take that in a literal sense. I’ve never had to put out a fire from a dumpster before, but I guess today was the day!”

“Ah,” Roman said, “It seems to me you lead a life of adventure, then! You valiant...dumpster...fire...putter- outer- no, no, that sounds ridiculous, pardon me for my horrendous consolation.” Roman ducked his head as he blushed furiously.

Janus found it to be, in all ways, endearing.

“No, thank you, I appreciate your sympathy,” Janus said. He stirred his drink nonchalantly. “So, how was your day? Just another beast for a chivalrous knight like you to conquer easily?”

Roman chuckled at that. “No- no, not quite. It was...slow today.” Roman sighed. “If I’m being completely honest, business hasn’t been doing well as of late.”

“What do you mean?” Janus asked—and he could feel his heart lurch in a panic.

“Well, if I go on like this, I might have to close. I really don’t want to do that because I put so much time and money and energy into running this place, but...” Roman dropped his head. “Well, I don’t want to lose all that I’ve worked for.” He lifted his head with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, that’s awfully rude of me to dump all that onto a loyal patron.”

Janus leaned back in his seat, frowning. “Well, that’s not...good.”

No, it was worse than that. Janus loved the cafe and he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have a safe place to go to. He didn’t know what he would do without Roman to look forward to on the days he felt like ripping his hair out.

And that got him thinking—it would be so simple to help Roman out. After all, Janus had a gang. He could easily organize several armed robberies and muggings to gather the funds. It wouldn’t be skin off his back—hell, this was his mental health they were dealing with. And his crush.

“I can help you,” Janus said coolly.

“Hmm?”

“I can help you keep your cafe,” Janus said, “I would love to help you, especially since I adore this place. It means a lot to me.”

“You would?” Roman asked. He smiled, but his expression was sad. “No, I can’t ask that of you. That would be selfish of me to accept.”

He reached for Roman’s hand, holding it tight. “But I want to help you,” Janus insisted, “Please. Let me help you, Roman.”

Roman tittered. “I don’t know-”

“I promise you, I want to help you,” Janus said.

Roman beamed, his eyes swelling with tears, and he nodded. “Alright. As long as you want to.”

Janus nodded firmly, satisfied with his answer. He probably would have held Roman hostage—gently, as in a hug—until he got a yes.

“Thank you so much, Janus,” Roman said, with a smile on his face that was positively blinding and beautiful. “You’re my hero.”

[scrollofthoth]

I was recently asked via DM, "Can you help me communicate with Tehuti?" I thought that there may be some folks interested in the subject, so I'm sharing my advice on my feed.

Your question is pretty open ended. I’m not sure if you’re looking to communicate with Thoth for a specific purpose, just looking for someone to facilitate that communication for you, or are looking to develop a relationship with the deity. I’m going to assume the later. (BTW, in my experience he cares not if you call him Tehuity, Djhuty, Dhwty, or Thoth, they are all of him).

One of the cornerstones of Ancient Egyptian practice was the veneration of idols. In their belief, during rituals and festivals, the idol literally becomes the manifestation of the deity. One of the first things you should do is acquire such an idol. The size of it doesn’t matter, nor must the representation be one of the classical images of Thoth, but it should be something you spend significant resources to acquire, or even make it yourself. What that means to you may look different than others. If a $10 plastic figurine is a significant financial investment for you, that’s fine. You may wish to upgrade in the future but always keep the original idol you began with. It may be displayed openly, or in its own case or even its own room. Whatever best suits your means. It should be approached with reverence and respect, at least until you develop a firm relationship. You will find, despite how he is often portrayed, that Djhuty has a fine sense of humor, though it is often a dry wit. Feel free to speak with him openly and plainly. Though I have found that from time to time he appreciates the Ancient prayers. You may say them in English or your own native language. I have included some prayers that have been unearthed by archeologists and translated.

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1JshIx7udY3P0VuufaxkPYjUfTR9cQW8Q?usp=sharing

Another cornerstone of Egyptian practice is offerings. This can take the form of incense, foodstuffs, drinks, or even plain, clean water. Remember, in Ancient Egypt, any offerings of consumable items should not be wasted. Such is an offense to Ma’at, so if you do leave food items, make sure that they do not linger so long as to go bad, and are later eaten. The gods take the essence of such things and leave the rest behind for us. Leave offerings as often as you can, once again, as your means allow. Try to always do so on festival days. Festivals often coincide with times of astrological significance, which were tied to the flow of the Nile. The following is an excellent resource.

https://www.amazon.com/Egyptian-Religious-Calendar-CDXXI-CDXXII-2021CE/dp/B08QRZ7NXX/

As Thoth is a god of magick, he wants you to do magick. Make magick a regular part of your life. Many see Thoth as bookish, and assume the magick he seeks is of the more complex, high magick sort of thing. This vexed me for a long time, as I simply didn’t feel anything from Kabbalah and what we now consider higher forms of magick (though Kabbalah and Alchemy didn’t even exist in Ancient Egypt). Until I received a message from him that all magick belongs to Thoth. So, if your magick is more along the lines of shamanism or witchcraft, that’s fine. Just do magick. If you do it long enough your own style will develop anyway.

Most importantly, Thoth is a god of writing. To gain his favor, you must write. If your skills are more along the lines of graphic arts, then calligraphy or learning to make the hieroglyphs may be the thing for you. As for me, I’ve never been much of a graphic artist, so I focus on the craft of writing itself. In our society, most everyone can write, but that doesn’t make you a writer. There is a craft to it. A skill in using the language in the written form. And it doesn’t matter if you write about magick, history, or write stories. All writing belongs to Thoth. Your greatest devotion just may be learning to be a better writer. If you want resources on that, I’d be willing to point you in the right direction.

After that, all you have to do is listen. He will speak with you. His knowledge may come from the wind, the rains, and the birds in the sky. He may talk to you directly. If you need a clear line of communication, any form of magical divination will do. But keep in mind, it all depends on how interested he is in you. It’s a two-way street. He doesn’t bother to explain things unless he feels you worthy of his time, which is why you make the offerings and the prayers, and make things that please him.

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 91

Ghay­ra (En­deav­or)

Endeavor (ghayra) literally means making every effort of concern, and being alert in striving, for chastity, honor, and esteem. It signifies being on the alert in respect of religious prohibitions. God is limitless in His concern for the purity of His servants and is infinitely pleased with the care they show and the endeavors they make in preserving it. For this reason, He has made some things, including indecencies and evil acts in particular, unlawful. So His servants, at least, must respond to His concern by being as careful as possible not to commit such acts. This is endeavor (ghayra); in this lies a person’s honor.

In order to remind us of this point, God’s Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, said: “Do you wonder at the degree of Sa’d’s concern? I am more concerned than Sa’d, and God is more concerned than me.” Concern requires fulfilling with great zeal whatever God likes and orders and being as determined as possible not to commit whatever He dislikes and forbids. It also requires loving from the bottom of one’s heart the Essence, Attributes and Names of the Necessarily Existent Being, and doing one’s utmost so that He may be loved also by others, and preferring relationship with one’s Lord to everything in the world and the Hereafter. In expressing these last two points in particular, the following verse of a saint is highly significant:

I wish all the people of the world love Him Whom I love, And all that we speak about would be the Beloved.

If the endeavor required is the assumption of a determined attitude not to commit evil and therefore related to God’s absolute dislike of such acts, then this would mean that one must adopt a manner that belongs to God. He who was the voice of truth, upon him be peace and blessings, said: There is no one more concerned than God. It is because of His concern that He has prohibited all indecencies to be committed, whether in public or secretly.[1] This draws attention to the Divine source of concern and endeavor. By saying, God displays concern, and a believer also displays concern. God’s concern is for the prohibited acts that His servant may commit,[2] he reminds us of the mutuality of concern and the ardent endeavor that is required by it.

The scholars of truth have interpreted concern and endeavor in two ways:

Recognizing no alternative or rival to the Beloved. Fixing all of one’s attention on the Beloved and trying to outdo all else in loving Him. However we want to understand endeavor, whether it be resisting corporeal desires and trying to lead our lives on the horizon of the heart and the spirit, or waging war against evil morals and establishing a way of life formed of good morals or virtues, or feeling in our hearts that we belong to Him exclusively -all these are among the principal elements which will bring us up to the level of true humanity. They are a response to God Almighty’s infinite concern for His servants. God’s concern is that He does not leave His servants forever vulnerable to others’ sense of what is fair, just and right, and He honors them with exclusive loyalty and servanthood to Him, He does not throw them into the humiliation of subjection to false, imaginary deities. In response to this, the required concern of His servants is, in the words of Mawlana Jami’, the craving for One, the invoking of One, the seeking of One, the seeing and following of One, the knowing of One, and the mentioning of One.

Some view endeavor as the initiates’ making Him their unique concern, their sole hope of contentment, and excluding all else other than Him from the sphere of their efforts which must be directed toward Him alone and exclusively. It has been regarded as the manifestation of the state in which that some wander sighing for the Beloved from whom they are separated, are. The initial verses of the Mathnawi by Jalal al-Din al-Rumi sound like melodies of such endeavor and longing:

Listen to the flute, how it recounts; It complains of separation. ……………………………………………………………………… I seek a bosom split in parts by separation, So that I can explain to it my painful yearning! Whoever has fallen far from his origin, Longs for the day when he will be reunited with the Beloved.

Those who have made serious endeavor with utmost concern have treated the subject of endeavor in three degrees:

The first consists of the endeavor that is practiced and known by regular, profound worship of God, by those who embroider their lives with the threads of piety and righteous deeds. In order to become perfected, they exert such endeavor that even a single, slight error is enough for them to suffer pangs of conscience for a life-time.

The second degree of endeavor is practiced by those who have set their hearts on God, the Truth, exclusively, who go from state to state, who travel from love to pleasure and thereon into deeper and deeper yearning. They make every endeavor to please Him and, as stated in the verse, To whatever direction you turn, there is the “Face” of God (2:115), they always turn to Him with all their faculties and under all circumstances, and are on the alert against letting their eyes slide to another beloved. They always try to find Him in any corner of their hearts for special meetings, as mentioned in a hadith,I have a special time with God.[3] They regard it as the greatest disrespect for time to fail to spend even a moment in knowing and pleasing Him. They tremble with the threat, This is because you exulted on earth without right, and you behaved insolently! (40:75), and they hear with eagerness the Divine call, Eat and drink at ease as reward for your deprivations and sacrifices in past days! (69:24) resounding all the time at different pitches.

The endeavor of those endowed with true knowledge of God, which is the third degree, is always to pursue deeper and deeper knowledge of Him, saying, We have not been able to know You as Your knowledge requires. They glimpse unbelievable beauties and sometimes keep what they have witnessed concealed, even from their own eyes, in jealousy. Sometimes they bemoan this world as being a place where He cannot be seen and complain of their eyes, in that they are unable to see Him and belittle their own being as they cannot keep concealed their special relationship with the Beloved and His special favors to them. Like a compass, they are always sensitively poised and agitated until they reach the day of final, eternal reunion with the Beloved, a day when they will acquire steadiness.

O God, I want (Your) forgiveness and endeavor (to please You)! O God, lead me to what You love and are pleased with! And may Your blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad Mustafa.

[1] Al-Bukhari, “Nikah,” 107; Al-Muslim, “Tawba,” 32-34. [2] Al-Muslim, “Tawba,” 36. [3] al-Ajluni, Kashf al-Khafa’, 2:173.

[overclockedroulette]

I don’t think I’ve ever made a proper post about Vega, have I?  If I have, so sorry, I guess you’re getting it again because. Vega Mochizuki my beloved.

So, first things first, he was born and raised in what is essentially a cult commune going by the Church of the Yawning Star: a group of people who worship the sea and everything in it, but don’t believe it should be, or even can be, controlled by a singular deity.  He wasn’t exactly against the more religious side of things - it was more just a regular process for him - so nothing really seemed out of the ordinary (he didn’t really have anything to compare it to).

A few years into his life, his sister, Delta, is born.  Delta is - for all intents and purposes - literally a living god.  More precisely, a physical manifestation of everything they worshipped (she’s referred to in one in-lore text as ‘the essence of the roiling sea’), so, naturally, Delta is doted on and payed attention to and - essentially - worshipped.  And Vega is... kind of left behind.  His father, Antari, barely pays him any heed in favour of his sister, and he’s not allowed to talk to her unless he’s deemed ‘worthy’ and ‘safe’ for her to interact with.  

(It’s not actually much better for Delta - I’ll make another post about her at some point, probably - but he’s still insanely jealous.)

Now, this experience - being the big brother of the literal messiah - messes Vega up a little.  He ends up desperate to come across as unique, or special, or anything other than just second-best - to the point that he lets some of the more innovation-minded members of the Church kind of experiment on him (and even that’s mostly due to his relation to Delta, but he tries not to think about that), which is how he ends up with blue blood.  (His skin also turns a pale blue when it comes into contact with water, but that one’s natural.)

And eventually, he just... has enough.  He figures that nobody would even notice him gone, and if they did, this would get their attention enough to at least make them stop ignoring him, and tries to throw himself off a cliff-side and into the ocean.

He fails.  A winged elf named Iliad sees him falling and catches him, brings him in, and nurses him back to health with the rest of her little group (The Empyrian Sect - Sage, Manifold, Camilla, Michelle, and Soots.  Never talked about them on here since they’re barely developed, but those are the names).  

He doesn’t join, though. They offer, but at this point he so desperately wants to do something big that he feels he has to try something more.  So, he joins Polaris as a researcher, figuring he can make some big scientific or magical discovery and be remembered for that (plus, he likes insects - specifically butterflies - and being able to study them is a bonus).  And, eventually, that leads to him being hired by Fabrica Kiriatta alongside a certain, significantly more homicidal scientist to assist her with the... issue, in Redglass.  He doesn’t agree with the concept, obviously - much less the methods that Avarice insists on using - but the man has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair, so of course, he agrees nonetheless.  

He’s also deathly afraid of thunderstorms.  Ever since he left the Church, he’s felt that he’s betrayed his deity, and every thunderstorm he just can’t shake the feeling that this is divine punishment, and he’s going to be struck down for being a traitor.  For a similar reason, despite his... opinions on the deity that defined the large majority of his life, he never audibly speaks ill of it, and in fact often reflexively says a small prayer whenever drinking water (Avarice hates that, obviously), because he feels that letting himself think those thoughts - nevermind saying them out loud - is blasphemy, and he’s going to be punished for it.

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 6 (DabixReader)

Thank you all so so so so much for you continued support and appreciation. I don’t have words to express how much it encourages me to keep writing. I love each and every one of your comments and likes and just slfjkdfkjasdlfjksfj You’re all perfect. No arguments.

Part 4: X

Part 5: X

Part 7: X

~~

Tag List: @velvet-kissesss @marydragneell @littleblackpheonix @holytacocactuscollector

~~~

TW: Blood, Swearing.

~~

 Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do. Not. Think. About. The. Kiss.

 Too late. You fail to catch your gaze as it slips to Dabi’s lips- one smooth and one burnt but the memory of both against your own surfaces with the rising blush. It shouldn’t matter. You’d only done it to save him.

 “I haven’t been entirely… Honest with you.” you frown and force your gaze back down to your plate. “Something like this has happened before.”

 “Oh?” he barely sounds interested.

 “When I was younger my quirk showed up later than it normally does for others.” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your courage. “I guess. Or I never really noticed it until my blood accidentally got ingested. But that’s not the point.”

 You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Remembering her lifeless face- Aysu’s face- is a memory that sends tendrils of fear into your heart. Seeds of doubt, of worry and guilt to ravage your mind. Tear apart your soul.

 “She was boosted with her quirk and kept growing,” you continued, “I freaked out, she freaked out. I tried to pull it back when the thread appeared but when I did it just took… everything. Everything. Her blood, her air, her… life. I watched her turn into an empty husk.”

 Tears blink their way down your face but you can’t feel the sting. Numbness washes over you as you remember trying to stop taking from Aysu. Trying to stop her growing panic and her literal growing as she grew and grew in size. The defenseless way she shrunk into the fetal position, crumbling before your very eyes as the thread spooled back into your body. Like it had done its job. Like the bastardly thing was satisfied.

 “It was covered up.” you whisper. “Her parents were paid off and mine moved me here. I got one session of quirk counseling before they thought it was best I hid it from the world. To forget.. About her. About my so called fucking ‘gift’. I pushed it down for so long that… I actually ended up forgetting. But I was so, so angry at you. I could feel my quirk awaken like some giant beast opening its eyes for the first time in a long, long time. I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to suffer. My quirk awoke and it was as if nothing had ever changed. It told me to tug the thread back to me. To rip it away.  To take it back.”

 Dabi doesn’t speak as you shudder. He’s silent as sin as you anxiously wring your hands. You can feel his gaze on you like wildfire, untamed blue fire devouring your body inch by inch. Laying your sins bare for him to ignite. For him to see.

 To understand.

 “I don’t think I can stop it when it starts.” you whimper, “I’m not that s-strong. I can’t fight it. But I can give again. I can pour it ba-ack. Return what it took.”

 More tears drop from your eyes, rivers ebbing their way onto your cheeks. It’s hardly recognizable when you can’t feel anything but guilt and the heat from your body turning up higher and higher.

 “I’m sorry.” you strain to speak, your voice a ghost of what it normally is. “I didn’t mean to drain you.”

 “Your quirk is dangerous left unchecked.” Dabi sighs and you flinch from the empty, uncaring words.

 Your eyes turn to his face as your vision blurs. Dabi doesn’t owe you anything after all you’ve done to him, let alone kind words. In fact, after draining him from the very fabric of existence, you owe him. But your sorrow disappears as you glance up to find the heat you felt rising wasn’t your body at all.

 It was his.

 Blue flame flickers in his eyes. Echoing his burning soul deep within as the flames dance on his skin. Between his fingers like a shooting star shimmering through the stratosphere. A comet hitting the orbit of his body as it bursts to life among his flesh.

 A breath you never knew you were holding releases as waves his hands through the air, spinning the flames into different shapes. They grow brighter and brighter until you see the tips of white start to overtake the blue. It’s almost unbearably hot before he douses the flames, the top of your ceiling only slightly scorched from the display.

 “I’d say we’re even, dollface.” Dabi says nonchalantly and you blink up at the scorch marks in disbelief.

 “When did…?” you ask and turn your wide eyes back to him.

 He chuckles softly and examines his hand thoughtfully.

 “When you brought me back.”

 The essence of his life fed back into him returned his quirk? Is that honestly how it was supposed to work?

 “Oh.” you say softly, your chest growing tight.

 This means he leaves, right? He no longer needs to be around you. He has his quirk back, like he demanded.

 There’s no reason for him to stay.

 “It’s a different power level than I’m used to.” Dabi says offhandedly. “It’ll take adjusting to but damn is it a rush.”

 His low whistle cuts through your numbness. Heart thumping unpleasantly fast in your chest while you can barely hold a breath, you shovel more food into your mouth. You don’t taste it. It’s as if you were eating air for all that you can taste. All you can feel is the growing strain in your heart as it flutters like a bird in a cage. What was this weird feeling? Why is it here now, of all the times to show?

 “Any threads?” Dabi asks and you swallow your mouthful of food before you check.

 It takes a bit but sure enough when you summon your quirk- even just a hair- the thread thrums to life. You can feel your own rapid heartbeat meet a steadier one, the thumping feeling in your body echoing in your skull. In your fingers and toes, your bones humming with delight at the sensation. Eyes widening, you look up at Dabi who raises a brow and squints at the empty space between the two of you.

 “Can you… can you see it?” you gasp as you realize what it is he’s staring at.

 “No.” he shakes his head and shrugs as his fingers glide across the table and sweep up some stray pieces of rice. “I see you’re a messy eater, though.”

 Your blood rises to your face in a flash of heat at getting carried away and your mess. Trying to cover your own embarrassment you clear your throat and stare back at your food.

 “Oh. I thought you might have- I don’t know? Seen it? Felt it?”

 “Doesn’t that only work on your end?” he rests his head on a fist and watches you.

 “N-normally.” you nod. “I just thought-.. Nevermind. It’s probably just over excitement.” you sigh and stand from your chair.

 “Thank you for letting me eat that.” you mumble and carry your empty plate to the sink.

 You’ll do the dishes tomorrow. For now you need to be alone. Locked in your room and away from Dabi.

 Away from the world.

 “Goodnight.” you call from over your shoulder as you walk down the hall.

 The scrape of a chair across the wooden floor and his footsteps to follow you let you know your conversation isn’t over.

 “Nice try,” Dabi says and slides into the chair left by your bedside. “but we’re not done yet.”

 You cross your legs, leaning your back against the wall as you sit across from him. It should have been obvious he had more to say from the lack of commentary he had for your story. Even if you’re squirming with uncomfortable emotions he won’t let you go that easily. Despite the thoughts running through your mind like a cacophony of chaos. Too rapid, too disorganized.

 “What’s left to talk about?” you say quietly.

 You need him to direct the conversation. Need him to lead it away from your grasp, less you pilot it directly into the ground like a paraglider on fire.

 Dabi watches you, his unreadable turquoise eyes half lidded. You wish he would just tell you what he was thinking instead of you having to guess.

 “Look, Princess, there’s not much I’m gonna be able to do to keep the league away from you.”

 Him calling you a princess makes your heart stutter in your chest. Especially the way it rolls off his lips like silk. His silver tongue sickeningly sweet honeysuckle to your ears. It’s thick and warming, the desperate vibrating through your senses begging for more.

 His voice is a dangerous weapon. You’ve tasted him, sipped the wine of his lips and tongue. Taken part in the divine essence he oozes almost thoughtlessly. It’s seductive and beguiling, an enchantment of his soul on his skin to beckon you into his embrace. The combination of rough and soft, quiet and strong- it’s almost too much as you remember the feel of his hands. Pulling you closer to him as if he could drink you down to the last drop. A yearning that never fades but burns just as bright as his eyes do. You’re nauseous as you meet his eyes.

 But it’s not that he made you sick. Just his words.

 “It’s better for everyone if you stay as far away from them as possible.”

 “What?” you mumble and frown. “But you told them-”

 “I know what I said.” he interjects before you can finish and sighs. “I’ll tell them you lost your quirk or something. I’ll get them outta your hair but you’ll need to move.”

     Move?

 You blink once. Twice.

 He isn’t joking.

 “Why?”

 “They know where you live.” he shrugs and crosses his arms on the top of the back of the chair and rests his chin atop them. “Once I’m gone they’ll have no reason to track where you move to.”

 The sharp pain in your chest at the mention of him leaving washes away all of the good feelings he brought on earlier. Even if he’s saying it in that dreamy voice of his it still hurts like a burning knife in your gut. Twisting your organs until they’re shredding on the blade.

 Of course he’s going to leave. He has to. Isn’t that what you wanted? For him to leave and be out of your life for good?

 You debate on asking when he’s leaving but you can’t bring the words to your mouth. You can barely even think them without vomiting up your entire stomach. All that food you just ate will not be in vain. Shoving down any and all thoughts of barfing, you take a deep breath.

 As much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. You’ll need to move to remain hidden. That’s what you told him you wanted.

 It is what you want. You have to keep focused on your goals. Getting him out of your life is just step one.

 “Right.” you swallow and stare down at your hands.

 You can’t cry in front of him. Not again. Earlier you’d been sobbing in his arms and he’d held you. Hell, he kissed you. You haven’t forgotten that part. If you even could, that is. The memory is a phantom on your skin, a ghost along your ears as you can hear the hungry noise from the base of his throat. Of course, he’d only been starving for the energy you were giving him. Feeding him back what you took through your body and soul. With blood and spit and sweat you raised him back to where he had been before he’d even met you.

 It probably meant nothing to him. Just like it shouldn’t mean anything to you. But the fear of losing him, of having drained him down to nothing- that wasn’t a normal reaction. Sure if it were a stranger you’d still feel awful but something about him is wholly different. Is it because you’re attracted to him? Is it because the connection between you two is beyond what you’ve ever experienced?

 The thread is still there, humming with life between the two of you- although you know he can’t see or feel it. It would be nice if he could. Maybe he might understand why these emotions were surfacing for someone you barely even know. He might even feel them himself.

 But no. You know better than to dream of useless, silly things like that. They don’t exist outside of your mind. They can’t. It’s just not how it works. And at the end of the day reality is the only constant that remains true. It’s harsh and it’s unforgiving but you’ll be damned if it wasn’t one hundred percent truth.

 You dread his next words.

 “I’m leaving tomorrow. Our deal is done.” his words are too quiet. Or maybe you’ve stopped hearing him. They’re muddled and murky. Drowning in something that's stopping you from understanding.

 You don’t have to understand. You don’t need to. It just is.

 “So it is.” you whisper back and glance toward your door. “I need to sleep. Goodnight.”

 Dabi lets out a small sigh and stands from the chair, twirling it back toward your desk as he ambles toward your door. He stops in the doorway, his broad shoulders tensing for a moment as he glances over his shoulder.

 “Goodnight, angel.” he says softly and his lips quirk up to a smile as your face burns.

 The wink that follows doesn’t make it any better. His soft, almost inaudible, chuckle that he breathes out gives you goosebumps. Of course he knows how attractive he is. Why wouldn’t he? It’s a perfect opportunity to tease the ever living life out of you when you react to it.

 You sigh and slump down on your bed, staring up at the doorway as if you could make him reappear with just a thought.

 Tomorrow, then. At least you’d get to say goodbye.

 ++

 Dreams and nightmares evade you in slumber. Even though you can feel your body regenerate what it needs to, you don’t feel well rested when you wake. You’re groggy and sluggish. Worn out and aching to the bone.

 It’s gloomy outside your window, rain swelling in the large gray clouds above. It’s a brief misting that falls from the sky, though. No large drops of rain. No downpour. Only a mist that’s annoying enough to be an inconvenience.

 You yawn and make your way to the kitchen to cook something up. But as you reach the mouth of the hallway that lets into the kitchen and living area, you feel even worse.

 Dabi’s gone.

 He wasn’t in the bathroom when you passed by it. You recheck just to be sure.

 The living area with the couch and television is empty. No large body sprawled across it. No jacket hanging off the back of it. No boots laying by the front door.

 There isn’t even a note.

 Why would you let yourself believe he’d even leave one? He doesn’t care about you or these stupid feelings that are getting the best of you. Why should he? You killed him! Literally drained him right there on your living room floor. Like some kind of vicious and feral vampire.

 The tears at your eyes don’t feel right. Even as your heart is thudding sharply in your chest, painfully flopping like a depressed child. You should have known better than to get your hopes up with him. You weren’t even anything to him. You knew that.

 You know that.

 So why does it hurt so badly?

 The leftover dishes in the sink wait, their silence speaking legions of words of judgement as you pass by them and to the front door. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. A message? A note? For him to just be waiting outside it with that stupid cocky grin?

 But no. There’s nothing but misty rain aggravating your senses. The world is a shade of sickly brownish green. The discoloration of displeasure. Of rot and decay. Anger swells up in your nerves and you slam the door shut with more force than you should have.

 Of course he didn’t leave a goddamn note. You mean nothing to him. Nothing, nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. You were just means to an end. You brought him back and you housed him until he got what he wanted from you.

 The lack of company only makes the silence that much worse as you sit and eat cereal. The clock is ticking on the wall across from you, mist on the glass of your windows sputtering pathetically. It can’t even rain right on a day as awful as this one.

 You glance over at the couch where Dabi would have been had he not left without a single word. Are you imagining it as empty or has it always been that… lonely? Aloof and lacking?

 Has it always been just like you?

 How nice was the feeling of someone sprawled over every inch of your life that it made you feel so depressed without it? It hadn’t felt that great when he was here but with him now gone it only feels cold and sharp. Painful reminders that you’re a helpless, useless no one that nobody would miss. Even if he had killed you like he threatened when he was trying to intimidate you- he had a point. No one would find you for days because your silence in their lives is already so common. They wouldn’t think twice about it.

 Whatever. You don’t need people anyways. What do they do but cause pain and make more drama than you need in your life? Like Dabi. He was a threat to your nice, quiet lifestyle. Everything could have been ruined because of him and his stupidly beautiful eyes. And that annoyingly gorgeous cocky smirk he gives when he’s teasing you.

 The heat you feel is not from your anger but you only get angier from it. Feeling it in your body as it betrays the emotions you want to run freely. You don’t need Dabi. You don’t want Dabi.

 You’re better off without Dabi.

 Right?

 ++

 Work passes without anything interesting. Lively tries to talk about this new teacher she’s been seeing. Some kind of prohero that worked for UA, ‘Eraserhead’ or something dumb like that. You wish you could summon even an ounce of personality to engage in her one sided conversation but you can’t. You don’t have the energy to. It doesn’t matter how much you sleep. How much you eat. How much water you consume. Nothing is enough to take away the waves of exhaustion that push and pull through your soul and body.

 It’s starting to affect your work. As your boss temporarily suspends your schedule so you can ‘get yourself together’- as she put it- you find that you don’t even want to go home.

 There’s a battle a couple of blocks from your apartment. You don’t even think about going to help and heal. What’s the point? To make up for the wrongs you’ve done with Aysu and Dabi? Aysu’s dead. There’s nothing you can do to help her.

 Dabi said your deal was over with. You both got what you wanted. So that was more than made up for.

 Helping beyond what you already have is only asking for more trouble. You should know better than to use your quirk anymore. Look at what had happened when you lost your temper. Exposing anyone else to such a horror is a terribly selfish thing to do. It’s not that you even really helped to begin with, either. You played both sides in the hopes of seeming like you were an unbiased person.

 But you were really only doing it for you. To soothe your guilty conscience. You didn’t help out of any kindness. It isn’t a dream of yours. It was only ever to make yourself feel better about your existence.

 A bar sounds great right about now. You need a drink. Or four. Maybe not even alcohol.

 You tell yourself you’re getting drunk but you don’t. You just sit at the bar and sip on one drink. People buzz in and around you. That’s really why you’re here. Because you can’t stand to be alone. You can’t fathom the emptiness that opens the void in your soul at the silence of your house.

 This is the only way you know how to be around people without seeming absolutely pathetic. Like the real selfish, useless person you are. Here you can fake that you’re waiting for someone or whatever. That you’re not as sad and lonely as you really, really are.

 “Why the long face?” a voice drawls and you turn toward your left.

 Coming face to face with a man with a tattoo that covers his entire face. His skin is a sickly green but the tattoo only enhances this with lime lines swirling into the center. It’s a stranger pattern that makes you furrow your brows and he chuckles.

 “Let me guess,” he grins, “My face?” he motions towards his cheek and runs the back of his hand down it.

 “I don’t mean to stare.” you say plainly. “Sorry.”

 “No that’s why it’s there.” he chortles. “I wanted others to keep watching me. And looking at you with those magnificent eyes one me? Priceless. I’d do it all over again.”

 Oh god is he flirting with you? The cringe that seeps into your face is only slight as you scoot further away from the man, angling your body in the other direction as he leans forward.

 “You can call me Charlie.” he grins and extends a hand. “And you are…?”

 ‘Not interested?’ you think but sigh.

 “[Name].” you mutter and glance away from him.

 “A beautiful name!” he exclaims and places his hand over his heart. “May I buy you your next drink? See if I can brighten that sorrowful look of yours?”

 No. Nope. This man is too over the top and you’re done with it. Maybe you weren’t looking for any company. Just a specific someone's company. Not that you’re going to allow yourself to think of his name.

 Before you can deny the man he’s already signaled your refill. His grin is plastered across his face like a snake waiting in the grass. Poised, waiting. Striking is eventual and it’s only a matter of when.

 And if you can get out of the way in time.

 Ah well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, hm?

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow.  Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work. 

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.” 

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?���

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself. 

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o. 

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead. 

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.” 

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.” 

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.” 

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this. 

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.” 

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?” 

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care). 

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.” 

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.