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katyawriteswhump · 3 months ago

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love and other catastrophes at the omega cafe (1/8 and index post, fic now complete 🐈‍⬛)

So I posted about this idea before here, (and was overwhelmed by the response—thank you!) but basically a cat café opened near me and inspired this:

Summary: Steve is a runaway Omega who gets a job at an Omega café, where he’s basically paid to curl up and purr in Alphas’ laps. It’s legal, and he earns a living, rents his own place. He’s getting along fine for a packless Omega. Then Alpha rockstar Eddie Munson turns up for an hour of ‘kitty’ petting, and shatters Steve’s fragile little world…

Rating: E; No major warnings, sexual content, omega-verse; Tags: omega steve, alpha eddie, a/b/o dynamics, fluff and angst; (It won't get tooooo angsty, I promise, and I should probably write a shorter version, but this seemed to want to get bedded in for some plot, so...) read on A03 and thank you @lexirosewrites for being so patient with my weird belated questions about what do with my idea!

Chapter 1 (below) Chapter 2 Chapter 3.1 Chapter 3.2 Chapter 4.1 Chapter 4.2 Chapter 5.1 Chapter 5.2 Chapter 6.1 Chapter 6.2 Chapter 7.1 Chapter 7.2 Chapter 8.1 Chapter 8.2 and THE END

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Chapter 1

Steve clocked in with Carol at the coffee counter and cosied up on a beanbag waiting for the first customer to arrive. He couldn’t stop yawning and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t usually work the Monday morning graveyard shift at ‘Kitties’—otherwise known as the Omega Café. Carol usually put him on the weekends, which were their busiest times. Plenty of Alphas—and sometimes Betas—were free then, to pass an hour with a cute Omega purring in their lap.

For a cost, naturally.

Steve, though, had called in sick yesterday and needed to make up his lost earnings. He’d been in heat. So, three days of cold sweats, congealed slick, and crippling cramps. At least the blockers he used for this job curbed his desperation to be fucked. All the same, a dull gnawing pain in his pelvis persisted, he’d barely slept and…

…Ugh, this beanbag was, if anything, too inviting and soft.

He’d gotten his most comfy, stretchy shorts on, his most butter-soft collar, and an only-slightly-cropped-at-the-midriff vest. His feet were bare, which was fortunate. Right now, only his icicle toes were keeping him awake. He was tempted to grab one of the many fluffy blankets scattered around the café, pull it up over him and snooze.

He was torn between asking Carol for a double espresso or napping—to be fair, it was unlikely anybody would join them till noon—when the bell on the door tinkled.

So much for a peaceful snooze.

Fortunately, rather than a hungover Alpha, Robin burst in. On spotting Steve, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She hurried up to the counter and presented Carol with her Apple-Pay. “Flat white with an extra shot, and an hour of kitty cuddles, please.”

“Sure.” The payment bleeped through, and Carol turned to grind the coffee beans. She never bothered with great customer service for Steve’s best friend. That said, customer service wasn’t Carol’s strength at the best of times. Steve liked that about her. For an Omega, she was a bitey feral, and she sure had their boss, Tommy, under her claw.

Robin sat down at a table, pulled a cushion onto her lap. Steve shuffled over on his knees and laid his head on the cushion:

“Jesus, Robin,” he whispered, as she started to pet his hair. It was usual practice for Omegas to wait till the customer spoke first, but this was, well, Robin. “You don’t have to pay to see me, you know that?”

“Apparently, I do, Dingus! I’ve been going out of my mind! Why didn’t you return my, like, billion texts?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Her fretful pettings only made him feel more guilty. “I’m out of data, and you know how shit Wi-Fi is in Sunshine Village. Plus, I had really bad cramps this month—I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. God, I’m sorry, too.” She slowed her strokes, as they both relaxed a little. “I worry about you all the time, living there. Working here. I wish I could take you home with me. Damn, I should rent somewhere you’re actually allowed to live.”

“No way. I’m fine, Robin. Seriously, I’ve landed on my feet. I like having my own little home. The heating is working in my block this week, and this is a pretty cushy gig.”

Steve didn’t even say that for the benefit of Carol, who’d just dumped Robin’s coffee on the table, slopping half of it into the saucer.

Steve had arrived in the city four months ago, down to his last few dollars. He’d soon realized that acceptable Omega jobs—teaching assistant, nanny, seamstress, junior positions in retail and catering—would all require handing over too much information about himself. He’d also swiftly discovered that Sunshine Village, the district he’d heard about where single Omegas could live unmolested, was little better than a slum.

He’d been caught between the terrifying choices of fleeing back home, starving, or sex work. Then he’d stumbled across this place.

If Tommy had checked the fake name Steve gave, he hadn’t cared. Steve got paid in cash after each shift and earned enough to rent a small place in the Village. Which, despite its shabbiness, turned out to be full of friendly, supportive Omegas.

It all meant he didn’t have to worry about Robin being evicted from her pleasant ‘beta’ neighbourhood for harbouring an unregistered Omega.

Robin chatted on, while sipping the remnants of her coffee and petting Steve idly. While she complained about how unfair the world was for Omegas—they’d met when Steve had turned up at an Omega soup-kitchen she volunteered at—her speech also underlined his point.

His life could be a shitload worse.

This morning, he was being paid for his best friend to give him much-needed bodily contact in a no-strings-attached fashion. While he didn’t have to force fake purrs for her, like he did for the majority of customers, soft sleepy purring happened anyhow.

After Robin left for work, the café was empty again. Carol made them both hot chocolate then turned her attention to doing her nails. Steve breakfasted on an out-of-date lemon muffin, which was still nice and gooey in the middle, then slipped out to the washroom for the second time since Robin left. He needed to re-check his hair.

He was reapplying his eyeliner, when he heard the bell tinkle again.

So much for the ‘graveyard’ shift. He pinched his pale cheeks, bracing himself to face whoever wanted to cuddle him next.

A high-pitched squeal from Carol pierced Steve’s hearing—one that was probably only audible to other Omegas.

And the scent snatched his breath.

The Omega café was flushed with scent-neutralising air fresheners, for obvious reasons. Whoever this Alpha was, his musk was potent enough to punch straight through. It nearly floored Steve with low notes of leather and woodsmoke, and high notes of… Christ, Steve didn’t know what that was.

Plums? Fine Californian wine?

It set his mouth watering, for all of a split second.

Carol! Was she okay?

He rushed from the washroom and peeped from behind a thick velour curtain.

Carol was fine. She was taking payment from an Alpha with long, slightly-frizzy retro hair, a jean jacket—who the fuck wore those?—and dark soulful eyes.

Steve’s heart rate spiked.

The Alpha was pretty damn good-looking, and young too, maybe only a year or so older than Steve.

He was also faintly familiar.

Did Steve know him from back home? Would he recognise Steve?

“So, how does this work?” asked the newcomer. His drawling accent sent a shiver down Steve’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him… and that definitely wasn’t a North County accent. Steve relaxed slightly, ogling the guy who was literally setting both his and Carol’s legs wobbling.

“You pay up front for an hour of kitty cuddles,” she said. “You have to order a minimum of one drink, and all new customers must read and sign our rules and disclaimers.”

“Ma’am, it’s Monday morning.” The Alpha sounded wearily amused, gesturing to the three-page fine-print document she shoved across the counter. “Do I really have to read all this?”

“How about I summarize for you.” Yup, Carol was being helpful and polite. Either someone kidnapped the real Carol, or this Alpha really was special. “You’re not about to go into rut, I take it? Because if you are, Sir, I’m really, really sorry—we can’t take that risk here, or we could get shut down.”

The Alpha shook his head. While Carol reeled off a few pertinent points—“no scenting, obviously. No kissing,”—his gaze snapped onto where Steve skulked, half-hidden behind the drapes.

Steve jumped back out of sight.

“Soooo,” said the Alpha, when Carol finally stopped talking. “To summarise—I can stroke the pussies, but I can’t stroke the pussies?”

Carol giggled. Though they’d all heard that joke, and every variation on it, at least a billion times.

“Pretty much,” she said. “We’re absolutely NOT a brothel. And don’t expect cat-ears and whiskers and all that jazz. Thursday is usually full-costume night, and… erm, right now, we only have one kitty, and he seems to have strayed. Boy kitty okay with you?”

“Yes, thank you, Ma’am,” said the Alpha.

“Cool. I’ll go coax him out with a saucer of milk or something.”

She found Steve backed up against the dingy back-corridor wall, knees basically jello. “Get out there! Christ, you do realize who that is?”

Steve shook his head, throat too tight to speak. He honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him. Alphas moseyed in and out of this place every day. He was usually able to keep himself together.

“It’s Eddie Munson! Lead singer of Corroded Coffin? Super-hot and super-famous bad-boy Alpha rockstar? Jeeees, you really did live in a box till you got here, didn’t you? Look, get out there—before I tell him boy kitty is off the menu, grab my skimpiest bikini, and burrow into that scorching lap myself.”

She nudged him through the curtain. Eddie Munson had already settled onto one of the cafe’s roomiest couches, arms splayed along the back.

Legs splayed too.

Eddie glanced up and those gorgeous eyes raked Steve, head-to-toe, stripping him so bare he might as well have forgotten his shorts. The Alpha’s grin spread slowly, revealing glinting incisors, and creasing up into the sexiest dimples Steve had ever seen.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it across the room. Somehow, he did, shuffling the final few feet on his knees.

“Hello, Kitty,” said Eddie. Possibly taking pity, he closed his legs. He shoved his thighs forward so Steve could easily lay his head in them.

Steve did so, facing out across the café. His heart skittered like a little prey animal’s. It was only then that he realized Eddie hadn’t placed a cushion on his thighs. Well, if Carol hadn’t highlighted that part of the rules, Steve was hardly in a position to do it now.

Eddie didn’t mess around. Strong fingers plowed straight into the springy mass of Steve’s hair. “What’s your name, Honey?”

“Uh… St-steve?”

Who fucking stammers answering his own name?

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie.” He leaned a little closer, hot breath joining those strong fingers to send Steve even deeper into fluster. “How do you put up with the stink in here? I mean, I get it. All those Alpha-Omega scents battering each other would make this place a real fleshpot. Shame, though. I bet you smell real sweet. I mean, I think I get a whiff of you, even now.”

“You get used to it,” squeaked Steve, cutting that line of conversation off pronto.

“You get used to the diabolical plinky-plonky piano music too, Steve?”

“Honestly, I don’t even hear it anymore.”

To be fair, Steve didn’t hate the perpetual loop of movie theme-tune classics for exactly that reason. Even the smoochiest love songs—like the instrumental version of “Everything I do, I do it for you,” currently playing—didn’t mess with his emotions in the way music so often did.

Eddie snorted a dry chuckle, leaning back against the cushions again. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, Steve,” drawled Eddie, massaging deliciously into Steve’s scalp, “it’s pretty easy not to hear it. You have got the cutest purr.”

Steve’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even realized he was purring yet! Yeah, he could fake purr, but he’d been too befuddled to get to that. Now, he shook with loud rattling purrs that he could barely control.

Omegas purred when they were happy and relaxed, and also when distressed, to comfort themselves. He’d been reduced to that over the weekend. These purrs, though, grew couch-quakingly loud and felt different from anyway he’d purred before.

“You okay there, Honey?” Thank heavens Eddie was nice, though that made Steve’s weirdness all the more inexplicable. Eddie ran the back of coolish fingers down Steve’s burning cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His hormones must still be doing weird things after his chemically fucked-up heat.

He probably should’ve called in sick today too.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie said. “Look, it’s freakin’ Monday morning. I’m the weirdo Alpha checking this place out. You’re just doing your job, and you’re mighty fine at it, I’m sure.” The words washed through Steve, their brutal truth leaving an awkward residue. “Listen, I’m just gonna sip my coffee and chill. You reckon you can chill too, little kitty?”

“Yes, Alpha,” murmured Steve. The preening growl that jostled from Eddie was enough to make Steve desperate to obey.

He didn’t usually call anybody Alpha on the job. It wasn’t strictly against the rules, but unless a client demanded it—and only the real a-holes did—the kitties avoided it.

Eddie, though, had dragged it from Steve before he could think about it, much like those purrs.

And much like how, a minute or so of petting later, Steve found himself purring effortlessly, and totally relaxed. He wasn’t even stressed by the fact that his cheek rested dangerously close to Eddie’s Alpha dick. Which appeared to be ballooning slightly beneath his thick pair of sweatpants.

This was exactly why the cushions were compulsory. Though Steve barely had time to worry.

“Steve,” said Eddie, fingering around the edge of Steve’s collar in a fashion that literally made Steve’s eyes cross with yumminess. “Are there any rules against you getting in my lap for proper cuddles?”

“No. Absolutely not.” There really wasn’t, though of course, it only worked with the larger Alphas. There’d been no way Steve could’ve fitted into a Beta like Robin’s lap, for example, without some level of squishing. Eddie was, to be fair, not the largest Alpha around, but he was certainly large enough.

After some not-too-awkward manoeuvring—and guided by Eddie’s hand in the small of his back—Steve soon found himself sitting across Eddie’s lap. Eddie scooped him close, and his arms curled around Eddie’s neck.

He stared point-blank into the fathomless depths of Eddie’s dark eyes. Nope. Too much. He dipped his gaze, then squeaked. Now, he fixed on Eddie’s jawline and throat, dusted with scruff, and which drew him like, well, catnip.

Steve inhaled oaky-smoky plums and… Holy crap, what even was that? He was in serious danger of burying his face there and violating the no-scenting rule himself.

Once again, Eddie sensed his discomfort and guided Steve’s head down onto his shoulder, holding him there. “Hey, any chance of another coffee,” Eddie called to Carol. “Extra-large mocha with marshmallows, please, Ma’am? Think I might be settling here for a while.”

After that, Eddie appeared to go out of his way to make Steve even more comfortable. Perhaps noting Steve’s squirmings over getting too close to his scent gland, he slid a thin throw cushion beneath Steve’s cheek. He then settled them both back against the comfiest, most enveloping part of the sofa. He pulled one of those fluffy blankets up over them both. Soon, a floaty weariness, bone-deep but pleasant, overcame Steve.

Even his ovaries had stopped bugging him. God, this was nice. He really got paid for this? Damn, he’d fallen on his feet and Eddie smelled divine. He couldn’t help but daydream about that huge Alpha dick nestled stupid-close to his pussy, with only two layers of fabric between them. He was too sleepy to get too excited, tho’. He soon floated on the surface of a calm ocean, safe and serene…

When Steve began waking up, a honeyed glow saturated his head and heart and previously aching pelvis. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but they must’ve been good ones. He felt complete and happy and… he flicked his eyes open. Oh shit! The cafe buzzed with conversation. Several other kitties had come on shift and were snuggling with Alphas.

He’d fallen asleep on a customer’s lap.

Steve’s focus snapped onto the clock behind the counter, where Carol and her assistant, Chrissy, who also did kitty duties, were rushing around making lunches.

1.57 pm.

He’d been asleep on the job for nearly three hours.

Asleep in the lap of…

“Hey there,” drawled Eddie, “somebody’s a sleepy kitty.”

Steve daren’t look up. Was Eddie pissed? He didn’t sound it.

Steve opened his mouth. Shut it again, dabbing the corner. His head had slipped off the pillow and rested against Eddie’s chest. The Alpha’s booming heartbeat mingled with an amused chuckle.

Steve wasn’t laughing: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“I know.” Eddie’s low rumbling sigh was one of the most contented sounds Steve had ever heard. “You gonna charge extra for that, Honey?”

Chapter 2 on tumblr On A03

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ I have got quite a bit of this fic drafted, so hopefully more soon. If you’re enjoying, please let me know, or like and reblog... it means a lot to know somebody would like to read more *purrs hopefully* and thank you soooo much for reading this far 💚

#omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omegaverse steddie #steddie omegaverse #steddie omega cat cafe #rock star eddie munson #steddie au #steddie fluff #slick sunday #steddie

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lipsent · 4 months ago

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݁˖ COIN MACHINE ! ⨯ ── g.satoru x f.reader . . . ╲ the coin machine stops working at the arcade and you and your friend aren’t finished playing. luckily a tall stranger with a heaping basket of coins catches your eye, and you seem to catch his, too.

wc. 2k . . . tags. nsfw (18+), car sex, gojo being half a gentleman — so sorry it ends abruptly, this is my secret santa to @goxjo!!! I’ve held back your gift for far too long and I’m so sorry for that, I’m currently sick and in a foreign country so I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to post this if not now. If you’d like me to write more, I will gladly do so. I hope this suffices for now. Merry Christmas Aki!! I hope you enjoy <33 for the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event !

“Look’it you.”

His hands slid from your waist to the expanse of your ass. His gaze—much like his head—tilted up to meet your gaze as a pool of warmth began to rise from where you sat on his lap. The driver’s seat was certainly the place to be with one Gojo Satoru.

He rolled his lips to dampen it then turned to the side and looked out his car window.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you for even a second, however, eyeing you up and down again. “You sure you don’t wanna head back to your folks’?”

You kept your hands on his shoulders, even scrunching up the fabric on your palm when he couldn’t decide between your two eyes.

It almost seemed timed by the man before you, the way it had only begun to snow a few days ago and now you’ve met the cutest guy who seemed to have brought on the snow himself. When you brush your fingers on his jaw, the tips grazed what you were convinced were strands of snowflakes from his head.

His car had begun to match him with a white coat over it since he had been parked just outside your house for a few minutes now.

“I’m sure that’s not what you sent me here for,” you replied cheekily. Or at least you thought you were even with that grin pinning your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s just a bonus sweetheart,” he said in a lowered voice that drew out a little bit more of himself than before; a kind of slippery fervor that you had somehow coerced from his tongue.

Deciding he’d had enough of your prying eyes, he leaned into your ear and his breath swirled around the shell.

“But we both know you’d like that now, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned back as your brows furrowed. “You were the one making eyes at me at the arcade.”

A snicker left his relaxed grin. “If that’s the story you choose to tell yourself, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you a pot—the very same one calling the kettle black.”

He squeezed your ass and you nearly let out an audible reaction.

“Come now, don’t tell me you’re getting all coy on me after everything you pulled at the arcade.”

“And what exactly did I pull?”

His hands slid back up to your waist, as if withdrawing even just in the slightest degree.

“I don’t have to tell you what you did.” Your name slithered out from his lips and the very sound bled into your reaction.

“Shit!” She slammed her first onto the glass.

The sudden noise snapped you out of your trance, having you look away from the tower you had been eyeing since he’d sauntered in.

A very gorgeous tower indeed. One with white hair and crystal eyes.

You turned around to gaze back at the claw machine you had just been leaning on. “Give it up babe.”

Your half-mast eyes shot back to your friend whose eyes reflected the plush keychain they’d lost in the sea of its friends.

“That was my last coin!” Your friend whined as she grabbed the sides of the machine.

You shook your head but smiled as you pulled out your wallet from your back pocket and turned towards the direction of the coin machine.

“C’mon.”

Your friend followed behind you happily as colorful blinking lights painted spots on her skin.

“This arcade’s pretty weird, huh? Needing to put your money into a coin machine so you can play the games.”

“There’s a strategy to it. It’s more common than you’d think.”

“Right.” Your friend stared off into the distance absentmindedly, her eye catching on a pleasing sight. “Hey, babe?”

“Mm?”

“That guy’s totally checking you out.”

You looked over and sure enough, that gorgeous tower of a man stared right back at you.

His smile widened when he’d realized you looked his way.

You looked back at the coin machine and just before you could insert a bill into it, you saw an ‘out of order’ sign hanging above it.

the entire row of coin machines were out of order.

“Aw.” Your friend’s shoulders slumped. “Shall we go get a drink instead?”

But you had your eyes set on the man with snow for hair.

Specifically, on his basket.

He seemed to be sharing it with his friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed a few.

You made your way past the noisy arcade games, weaving through people and noises that jumped out at you before finally arriving at him.

He looked down at you and raised a brow. His brunette friend bent forward with his hands in his pockets to observe the hold up.

“The coin machine’s broken and my friend and I—we kinda wanna play more games. You guys have a basket full of coins, is there any way I could pay you for some?” You asked with a smile pinned to your blushed cheeks.

You made sure to look up at him with your eyes as much as possible; your eyes would naturally be made wider, and with eyes like that it might’ve sent the right message: this wasn’t just about the coins.

He gave you that same wide smile, all too gleeful and reassuring to be letting your guard down over.

“Sure. How about we follow you around and you and your friend can use as many coins as you want, hm?” He suggested, pushing up his circular shades.

“Cool! I’ll treat you to something after we’re done, thank you so much,” you beamed.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured under his breath but with how handsome he was, it was impossible to miss a thing that left him.

Your friend finally came over and the four of you introduced yourselves. Having to yell over the banging noises of the whack-a-moles wasn’t the best circumstance to be introduced to your future husband, but your mind wandered far too long and far into said future that it grew softer than white noise.

So there the four of you were—exploring the arcade and wasting away at claw machines. Luckily, both Satoru and Suguru didn’t seem to have a problem with your friend’s obsession with claw machines, but they did give each other looks every now and then that you had pretended to miss. You were on a mission, and it was crucial to be innocent in an already dully innocent situation.

Time went by too quick, however, and you had missed its call completely.

“Shit.”

Your friend whipped around and blinked at you. “What?”

“That—that stupid christmas party at my place, I’m late,” you groaned, grabbing your bag from the shooting game you were about to step into.

You turned to Satoru and nearly winced. You bit your lip hadd as punishment to yourself.

“Fuck, sorry—I did really have the intention of making it up to you—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s my treat. You know what? When’s the party?”

“Three.”

It was 2:40pm.

So much for your mission.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll get there in no time.”

“I live outside the city.”

“Not a problem,” Satoru insisted again. “Really, I’ll drive you. Suguru had somewhere else to be anyway.”

He looked towards Suguru, who returned the look and nodded with a quick smile.

“Satoru’s making me do all the work in our school group project.”

Satoru punched Suguru in the shoulder and they both laughed.

“Asshole.” Satoru rolled his eyes but his smile could drown people in blizzards. “So?”

“My friend … also needs a ride …” you pointed towards her, and she stepped out of the shooting game and gave a meek smile that matched your own.

You knew you were pushing it. But before a gorgeous whore, you were first a good friend.

“Oh, sure,” Satoru nodded without hesitation. “We’ll drop your friend off first.”

And now you’re sitting in the driveway near your house and on top of Satoru’s lap.

“Fine. Would you prefer I make demands?”

“It would be easier for the both of us, yeah.” Satoru reached for a wallet in his pocket.

“I’m on birth control,” you blurted, eyes tracing his veiny hand and you watched as it slowly retracted into his pocket along with his wallet.

“Duly noted,” he chuckled, and his hands busied themselves on the zipper of his black pants instead.

It didn’t take long before his cock was revealed to you, and he was reclining his chair just less than an inch back for slightly more room.

When you sank down on him, his lips fell loose, thumbs digging into your flesh when he grabbed your waist like he was trying to bruise you from his grip alone.

You sat on him completely and small noises escaped as you tried to get used to the sudden stretch. Lava for blood ran from your wet lips down to your legs while your arms and hands remained iced to the tips.

“Oh, you’re just adorable like this,” he grunted, a low growl falling through the gaps as he gritted his teeth. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

A knuckle had already found its way to your lips, your teeth biting down like paper on pencil as you tried your best to be modest in a not-at-all modest situation.

“C’mon.” Satoru chuckled when he gently held your hand in his, peeling it away from your face as you whined.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

“It’s … a little … t-tight …”

“I know, I know … does it hurt?” He kissed a trail from your jaw all the way to your shoulder then down your collarbone.

“No—ngh!”

Satoru rolled a bruising thrust into you, his tip rubbing up against your cervix as he squeezed your ass with both of his hands as if they were handles.

“Fuck,” he cursed crisply into your ear when he hunched over from the pleasure he’d inflicted. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re so—ah!”

He thrusted in again and then kept up the slow rhythm with a force opposite from its pace, each wet slap dragging your heart closer to your gut as your cheeks ran hot.

“Satoru—fuck—”

“Mm, you’re already shaking—” He was cut off by his own groan as he grabbed your thighs like a lifeline, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as you clenched around him.

He had only thrusted in again when suddenly someone appeared through your front door and Satoru had the instinct of dropping his backrest flat against his backseat to hide the both of you from direct sight.

You both stayed completely silent and noisy simultaneously with your pants and his heartbeat in your ear.

“You should have drove away!” You hissed in gritted teeth.

“Why, do you want to stop?”

You made an indistinguishable noise and he only tilted his head and raised a brow at you.

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart,” Satoru cooed, the saccharine from his tone so viscuous you nearly choked on it.

You slowly rose and peered out to see where the bottom of the window met the person’s head—maybe eyes—rising too much would mean having to pull out from Satoru and you had that very deeply in mind and in other places too.

“It’s my uncle.”

“The creepy one or the one you like?”

“The creepy—wait how do you know about my uncles?”

“Every family has ‘em,” he replied as you physical felt his chest inflate with pride. “Now then.”

Satoru had somehow managed to reach down and swipe a finger against your clit. You twitched, and he tried not to wince at the sudden movement.

“Satoru!” You hissed. “He’s right there!”

“And he can’t see us. Let me guess, he’s taking a smoke right now and can’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that there’s someone parked by your driveway,” Satoru practically barked.

You shushed him, but he only rolled his hips into you causing you to squeal. He rubbed your clit in circles and something about this entiee situation had painfully turned you on even more despite the attitude you were giving him.

“Satoru,” you moaned, leg twitching from the sudden flood of stimulation.

“Do you want me to drive away, princess?” He twirled the little petname around his tongue as he snickered.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #lipsent.dvds #lipsent . . . works

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chasedeys · 7 months ago

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Hi do you have a favorite moment between Joe and Ja’Marr ?? Also how would you describe their relationship I’m new to this fandom and they are just so close and adorable

hi there!! thank you sm for coming by and sending this ask bc now there's like 2k+ words under the cut 😭 i feel like i should apologize profusely for the unchecked word vomit oh my god

to start off, like would you believe me if i said i’ve been a fan of the bengals for like a month :')) started ts during the week leading up to the first regular season game when jamarrs contract literally gripped me with the drama of it all. so for all my word vomit below feel free to fact check me ahaha

you asked me for a favorite moment for joemarr and i start describing their entire life together i am so very sorry, but:

on the top of my head literally just two weeks ago. this 63 yarder jamarr and joe made that led to an mildly feral celly where they just. didn’t know how to act right and got made fun of for not doing a cool celly?? this insane anon ask i sent before i caved and made a sideblog was actually just my word vomit over it 😭. And also last weeks celly, a whole lot softer and more tender with jamarr skipping then walking straight towards joe who held his arms out for him? thats crazyyyy he was expected! he was welcomed!! he was loved!!! the way one of the fired up coach just let joemarr have their intimate little moment before slapping jamarrs shoulders in joy is also crazy to me 😵‍💫 and just this screenshot of that celly where they’re just wrapped around each other right in front of their sidelines. the fuck. watched that shit sick to my stomachhhh i had enoughhhh.

this edit with the compilation of their post-tds pinky shakes oh my goddd. just every time they do pinky shakes!! who does that!!!! the softest possible way they can make a handshake (since college my god) in a status quo where you make the most elaborate handshakes to look cool and spread joy and burn up adrenaline but these two chose to do a quick twist of their pinky fingers (the symbolism of it alllll how dare theyy) and pressing knuckles together for however long they want to. the roty award where they did their pinky shake is one of my favorites huhu

the lakers date…..the way i had no idea sam and dj reader were with them on this date until i see a full vid of lebron meeting them 😭 and the lore goes crazyyy for this whole thing bc apparently joe was having the shittiest week in arizona and jamarr made an obscure ig story that he arrived in az before deleting it (like whyyyy would he do that) and then boom. they’re in the lakers game in lsu/lakers colors. and jamarr did that arms around shoulder thing that blows my mind because what the fuck is wrong with him why would he do that in front of lebron james and anthony davis and like national tv idk. joe also clapped (??? for whatever reason this fucking dork my godd) his hands right in front of jamarrs face when jamarr was being introduced to the stadium.

THE WEIRD CLOTHES PAIRING THING IS INSANE TO ME TOO. they do it in such subtle ways that you just think its a coincidence and you're delusional and it probably is but!! but??? they went to the game wearing yellow and purple (color coordinating lakers colors!! if i were on a date i would also do that cringy shit!!) that is also coincidentally lsu colors! another theory is they each chose to wear lakers colors without the other knowing of which this is just another case of soulmatism. the matching shoes during week 3! the sort of matching color schemes for their away game airport fits! last week both wearing rick owens apparently idk?? no idea if they've done this before this season btw i just got here lol. this is reaching ofc but very fun to think of!

jamarr being batshit crazy with his words abt joe. 'he's like a god to me' 'trying playing without my favorite quarterback' 'i told him dont scare me like that again. he knows how to slide he's just hard headed' 'im here for the future, for him. i want you to be here for the future' (this was abt joe playing through an injury :)) etc etc. something about 'just keep winning as many championships together' or like 'me and him come as package' or something fairy tale ish like that idk man he's crazy i could make something up only to be bamboozled because he has in fact said shit like it before. and like his refusal to consider anyone but joe for the no. 1 qb hhh. somebody needs to put him in an mri and study his brain when shown a picture of joe burrow bc like?? the way jake had to prove himself before jamarr even followed him on ig is ??? pls be normal jamarr i beg of u (he's perfect the way he is).

while jamarrs insane with his words, joes insane with his actions!! the lsu sec championship ball he gave to jamarr. that little look like ‘hey you want it? okay its rightfully yours' mkayy crazy ass!!! jamarrs lsu championship game worn jersey joe asked for and worn for their first game back in nola. just what the fuck went through joes mind that led to this. their dads (both named jimmy both close since lsu too, cute!) were asked about their fav joe game day fit they said the jamarrs lsu jersey 😃! in laws approving your partner of choice etc. this is jimmy chases interview regarding joemarr too btw haha. anyway back to joe being insane—the demented way joe runs to jamarr and hops around him and slams his helmet to his when jamarr makes plays. and like again this is speculation as in no citation sorry but jamarrs reason for going to cincy is definitely in part because of joe?? joe being the one to text him pack your bags you’re going to cincy is crazyyy. firmly believe joe talked him up and asked for him! when they last parted before joe went to cincy did they make a pact that they would play in a team together again? did jamarr reach out when joes 2020 season ending injurys news reached him? did he watch him go down that first time?

also during their lsu days they interviewed the wr core and they were asked abt who joe likes best (stupid ass question in my opinion btw. why would they ask that), it was so....sooooo......like jamarr was so shy and unsure!! he's like 'is it..me?' and terrace going 'he does like throwing to jamarr most' and then jamarr bursting into embarrassed laughter like okay??? okay 😭😭 fine okay be cute or whatever. in my mind back then jamarr was a whole lot more unsure of his presence in joes life because hes super young, his qb is literally 3 years older, its their first year playing together etc but i think being joe being upfront on asking jamarr to play with him in cincy (again speculation on my part no idea if this is true ha) just cements the little gremlin in his head that believes he has to be crazy about joe

their 2021 preseason jamarrs drops were apparently disgusting enough for people to shit on his entire life idk and crucify the bengals for drafting another wr but joe was so firm on his belief in jamarr! that's devotion babyyyy his clap back in the first post game presser was very much what were u saying abt the loml coded love that for them

last feb probowl dramaaa rumors of jamarr moving to houston bc he chirped at cj stroud that he knew cj wanted to play with him or smtg so he had to post this very emotional very sincere tweet and speak abt it in an interview 😭😭 just head empty no thoughts mouth racing! joe probably teased the ever living shit out of him 'so you’re moving to houston without telling me :( i had to find out through twitter :(('

just teasing each other in numerous occasions over each others speed??? that mic'ed up moment when joe teased jamarr over being slow! yelling out his name so many times just to say that he was a little slow and jamarr shooting back instantly with an incredulous ‘be serious. be serious.’ vs jamarr nagging joe over being slow ass hell during his 20 (?) yard rushing attempt and joe defending himself in the whiniest voice i have ever heard from him saying he had to wait for ted to block before him (ted then going what did i do? ted I’m sorry you had to be dragged into their weird mating dance banter) and also this gem of a jamarr tweet (x)

speaking of jamarrs twitter, 17yo him’s curiouscat answers that insanely aligns with joe is nothing short of crazy. they have not met or heard of each other then i don't think. but according to it he likes them older, smart, doesn't mind if they're taller, but he doesn't fw long distance so he flew his ass to ohio 😮‍💨. (also whooo be sending these asks high schoolers dear lordd 😭). the soulmatism between them is kinda crazy like joe being well over 3yrs his senior yet still they had a moment chance to play together during jamarrs freshie/sopho (?) year in college because joe chooses to transfer to lsu, and coach o taking a chance on him despite not playing for how many long, winning a championship (!!) together for that one year that they could play together, and saying fuck that only one year bullshit before flying jamarrs ass right to cincy so they could play 4 and counting more years together.

jamarr talking abt where it apparently clicked for joe and jamarr that joe can throw to jamarr and jamarr would be right there to catch it haha. like he didn't give a shit if people thought it was joes big life changing moment hes just insisting that that was when he and joe really clicked!

literally my favorite mic'ed up moment between them. the teasing! the nagging! 'you see the big blue thing' 'don't do me that' 'that's the endzone' then the laugh!!!! ‘he’s gonna get mad at me when i tell him this shit' then gesturing joe over like hes a cat my god jamarr 'you couldnt overthrow me?' a very affronted 'my guy you were wide open' aughuhghuhhguu joy love laughter etc. (side note can't help myself sorry pretty sure the reason joe teased him about the endzone is bc jamarr could’ve gone for it but got tackled bc he was kinda slow to start sprinting and when he did he just sat there legs out shoulders dropped looking disappointed but cute as all hell i love him sm)

sooo many other moments because theyve literally been in each others lives for over five years!!!! recently joe saying jamarr playing is fun to watch 😵‍💫, jamarr saying numerous times that joes a tough mfer but also hard-headed and how he's also hard-headed but at least he listens (my guy....reflect again), that article of jamarr knocking on doors for a house near joe that he denied i think but he also said that he kept his stuff in joes house before he got his own, that jamarr gq shoot where he went insane and lied (or did he?) about buying joe clothes that just led to the ridiculous clothes saga that is still unsolved to this day and that tb and tee very obviously teased him over and somehow the socmed team clowned him on too 😭

etc etc stop me please

AND ANYWAYSSS MOVING ON:

how i would describe their relationship is ride or die with incredibly similar way of living by which i mean they live and breathe a sport they’re so talented in and they play to win and beat themselves up for doing bad in but also with the awkwardness of knowing they’re two vastly different people with different ways of seeing things and handling things but also even with that steadfast difference of being they also believe in each other in a truly outrageous way that it translates to them saying and being insane about each other (hence the list above) with little to no shame. (i hope this makes sense because im not reading all that over again wow)

like they’re so complicated to me!! by all means i don’t actually know these two or what they’re really like, but surface level they’re so different! their temperament is literally 180, joes cool and steady persona, incapable of being ruffled, closed off, moments of silliness he brings out only in certain situations, smart little quips he gives out at times like he can’t help himself vs exuberant open extroverted blustering to hide his shyness runs his mouth always down to fight jamarr chase. they couldn’t be more different! so how can they read each other so well? how can they run routes and plays with minute changes whilst running from men trying to take them down between one heartbeat to the next? how is it that jamarr is so down bad for this man that he can just say the shit he does about him? how much trust does joe have in this man that he shuts down every bad shit anybody tries to tell him or coax him to say? something about /always/ choosing the other despite everything is always a thing that attracts me to a ship.

also after that infamous kc game shove, i definitely think they had a very tough heart to heart where jamarr maybe spills his full feelings over the contract and how he hasn’t been getting the ball to actually make big plays and how his worth as a wr1 is being brought to question and joe probably spills on his own feelings on how jamarr held out so long and had last minute (?) changes of playing that week one ramps up joes own anxiety and hang ups like i definitely feel like he had some unchecked anxiety over playing with his wrist that first game that jamarr probably said something incredibly insane yet uplifting about in response. the next game its like they mended some unseen frayed stitch of their connection! first drive banger of a 41 yarder td for jamarr, two tuddys for the game in fact lol!! joe gets him his deep ball, then the insane way joe rushed at him after his 63 yarder in the next game, its like that first touchdown against minnesota again. i just wish the very best for them, to keep making these insane passes and insane runs they've been making since lsu.

anyway i feel like a lot of my rambling is for jamarr sorry 😭 he’s like a drug to me such an interesting person i base my thoughts around him. I feel obliged to say i wrote my first ever fic and its them lmao and i link this just as a fair warning to everyone that i very obviously write and ramble in the tags like im in love with jamarr, definitely with some bias, and I’m learning how not to be ashamed of that !

also nobody asked but scrolling through the hell that is my photo gallery i just have to share my favorite tee photo which is coincidentally the mock photoshoot the bengals socmed team made them do to clown jamarrs gq shoot ahaha

hearts ❤️ thank u for reading all the way through :"))

#this is.....so much.....sorry..........hyperfixations go crazy for me #just. using this as an archive for my fav joemarr moments ig 😭😭#also humbly asking you all who fully read this to ignore how many times i use the word insane or crazy. thank u :')#didn't reread to check anything esp the last bit so if u see spelling mistakes wonky links format etc look away too please thank you #a lot of these i didn't bother to link bc it was hell for me to even do it in the first place so :')#ask #joemarr #joe burrow #ja’marr chase #joemarr meta

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cultkinkcoven · 5 days ago

Text

Fuck.

I started this page to document my shit so thats what I'm gonna do. But first huge massive disclaimer holy fuck

spirituality and psychology are messy and I am insane I think, and I'm not saying that to be funny or whatever, I know how strange these ramblings sound. I know this reads like some really weird self insert god fanfiction. Maybe it is ?? I recognize how absurd this is. And I have been genuinely kind of unwell dealing with this in silence because??????? how the fuck do you explain this to like??? anyone.

This might very well be my psyche unraveling. SO TLDR, fucking I don't know take this howeverr you do.

Trigger warning: Extremely cringe, extremely nsfw. Mention of??? Blood, power dynamics, "what is referred to as cosmic statutory rape”, ???? implied grooming and incest YEAH ???? IDK. IM SORRY.

I DONT KNOW IF I AM GOING TO POST THIS

These are less than unedited. These are what I could find the time to write down between bouts of confusion and admitedly a lot of denial. And life also. Like being a not insane normally functioning part of society. Theres going to be so many spelling errors and dumb shit said. Its probably going to be so long. You guys wanna do Luciferianism and shadow work and stuff its so fun.

I'm deflecting with a lot of humor right now. I'm genuinely so burnt out and exhausted in every sense. To everyone who has commissions due from me rn I love u guys and I'm so sorry I have been an absolute wreck like genuinely. I’ve been sick. So anyways. Yeah. Intense stuff.

To be entirely honest, I’m not sure if I can remember how it began. I recall already being seated at the podium, in what appeared to be a courthouse. The Jury, the Judge, and all other people in this room were dressed in black robes which had hoods that obscured their faces, their forms. But I already knew that I was in God’s court, that each and every person in this room was a divinity. Some familiar, Hermes, Horus, Aphrodite. Some I don’t even know the names of. Angels, demons, Gods from every culture, all gathered here today.

And then, there he was, Lord Lucifer was brought into the courtroom, shackled, chained, cuffed. And sat on the side of the defence, against the persecution. And I sat in the chair of the victim.

Then the Judge, I don’t know who exactly they were, did that thing that Judges do to get everyone’s attention. “We are gathered here today in deliberation of the case against Lucifer who is accused of coercion, corruption, desecration of the human soul, and what is referred to as cosmic statutory rape.”

And I altogether understood what this was, and I honestly couldn’t really believe it was happening. I must be dreaming.

A figure, one from the side of the prosecution, began a speech.

"You blur the line between worship and possession." "You do not merely accept devotion, you entwine yourself with it. You drink from it. You live inside it."

"You wield love as a weapon." "You make your devotees fall too deeply. You make pain feel holy. They would die for you, and that may not always be a virtue."

"You court mortals like they are equals, then treat them like property." "You call them beloved, but you collar them in blood and longing."

"You distort consent by overwhelming the senses." "Is it truly choice, if the pleasure you offer is cosmic and irresistible?"

"You make the sacred too intimate." “You taste what should be prayed to from afar. You break the distance."

“Lucifer will be judged, not because he broke laws in the usual sense, but because he redefines the borders of law, love, and power. These accusations are not of cruelty or evil necessarily, but of disruption, seduction, and subversion.”

Lucifer, who’s gaze was pointed down, hardly reacted at the charges. When he is asked how he pleads, he answers “no contest.”

And when he is given the floor, an opportunity to explain himself, it’s like he doesn’t exactly care for the opportunity. Which is unlike him. Lucifer? A chance to speak? To defend himself? He would jump at the opportunity. Now he is disinterested.

“Yes,” he said, “I do all of these things, because I was not made to enforce your structures.

I was made to test them.”

The court does not favor the response. It’s interpreted as misdirection, manipulation. Same old tricks.

Lucifer starts again, “This boy approached me, I did not forsake him. This boy forged himself under my path and defined his own, and in his path he found his rightful place alongside me. Decided of his own volition that he would allow me to define him. I only seduce what is already hungry. You ask me why he bleeds for me, why I take and not why he gives. This conversation is irrelevant to me, to us-,” and he raised his head to look at me, “because he is always going to return to me. Watch me go and watch him follow. If you fear what I awaken in them, perhaps it is not me who needs atonement, but the one who taught you to fear awakening.”

That hardly moved anyone, the persecution snapped back at him promptly. “Lucifer, you are a predator.”

His eyes returned to the ground. The persecution addresses the jury.

“Lucifer engages erotically, spiritually, and sometimes violently with a much younger, mortal devotee. This is the transgression of the divine boundary between heaven and earth, the holy and the profane, the ageless and the fleeting. The idea of an ancient being engaging intimately with a young human triggers serious questions of power imbalance, consent, and grooming. The age, scope, and influence of such a being far surpasses human capacity. The imbalance is so vast it will inherently be manipulation or coercion even if the human agrees."

And on the side of the offense, the side of Lucifer, a voice rings out. It is extremely familiar but I can't quite place it right now.

“The mortal-divine union has always been dangerous, but also deeply transformative. The point isn't safety, it’s awakening, even if through ruin. Lucifer embodies this edge.”

And Lucifer, with what seems like a hint of agitation now, ““You call it grooming. I call it cultivation. What you see as a child, I see as a garden of becoming. I will not allow him to be stripped of his agency.”

And again, the persecution comes back swiftly. “Compared to you he is a child, compared to most, he is a child.”

“He is my child,” Lucifer spits back, “He is a creation of my choosing, shaped by my influence, called into becoming by my voice. He was born of me, not by blood but by purpose. He is my pride, my possession, his transformation is my responsibility. I protect him, guide him, scold him, raise him in my image. I am experiencing something precious growing in my hands,” and then he pauses, looks at me again, and continues, “But he is not only a child, in fact he’s not a child at all. He is also my partner, my lover, and at times, perhaps even my prey, and soon my mirror. He is my offspring, but also my altar, my beloved, and my equal in becoming.”

And again, from the persecution, “Groomer. That journey, from “child” to “consort,” is where Lucifer’s obsession lies. You claimed to have cultivated him, but in reality all you did was lure, rape, and consume him.”

And that was the only accusation Lucifer did outwardly deny, "I did not rape him."”

“It was never truly about guidance, growth, or transformation, but instead about exploitation cloaked in divine theatre.”

And again from Lucifer, “I did not rape him,” and a pull at his chain that is again, not viewed favorably by the court. He cannot control himself.

And his partner or representative beside him chimed in again.

“We will remain as honest as possible about the situation and Lucifer’s behaviour. Luring? Yes—Lucifer is the Morning Star, the bringer of light, the whisper in the dark. He does lure. Consuming? Yes. He has drunk the devotee’s blood, held them trembling, marked them. Power imbalance? Yes. He is a god. The human is a mortal. That is the frame of the relationship. Lucifer doesn’t dispute the intensity or the devouring. He only defends the mutuality.”

And then again Lucifer, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, “he chose me.”

Another figure on the opposing side then takes the floor. “Can a human ever actually consent to a being like Lucifer?” he says with a look towards the jury. “Lucifer, you seduced a creature whose soul was still in its first bloom. You drank blood from someone who hadn’t yet lived long enough to question you. You made him yours before he knew what it meant to belong to himself. That is not love, it is corruption.”

Lucifer answered promptly. “He chose me. I waited. I showed him the gates and asked nothing. He walked through. I did not drag him.”

But they reply: “And he was a boy. Your light is blinding. Your voice rewrites the mind. He could not say no, not truly.”

A hand popped up from the crowd. He didn’t exactly wait to be summoned forward he just did, murmured the words “witness,” and took the floor. He removed his hood. I already knew it was Lord Hermes before I saw his face.

“I’ll admit I am far less familiar with the boy than he is,” Hermes started, and he glanced towards Lucifer, “but I do have to say that I find the infantilization in this court to be a little bit annoying. I’ve seen Luciferdo things even I wouldn’t dare, of course. That's his nature. But I’ve also seen the boy come alive in his hands. More alive than most gods have ever managed with their own children. Lucifer wasn’t his first experience with the divine, wasn’t his last, but it was the one he chose. And he didn’t just choose it, he ran to it, bled for it again and again. Even when it wasn’t pretty. Even when things didn’t go his way. He makes that choice every single day, I don’t think it’s honest to disregard it.” and then he sort of paces, mumbles, seems like he’s stringing together his next sentence,

“I have walked every threshold, slept in strangers' beds, and whispered things into mortals' ears that turned their lives inside out. I know what it is to disrupt. You call it corruption. I call it contact.” and then he turns to Lucifer, walks up towards him and looks down. “You cultivated him? No. You claimed him. Don’t pretend it was all altruism. You wanted him, you waited for him. You touched him and in turn informed his definition of touching. Maybe that’s the oldest game in the book. Guilty? Sure. But not alone. And not by force. What you’re really afraid of isn’t what he did. It’s that the boy looked up and said ‘yes.’”

And Hermes was dismissed.

And just as quickly another hand shot up, and she hadn’t even waited until Hermes had left the floor to intrude. Ah, I knew her by her energy, her aroma, blessed to be in her presence, Aphrodite. Ahaha so this is like, all the Gods are here and they're all judging me guys. I am tripping hard.

“Everyone yet again is somehow surprised that love is messy?” she started with a half laugh. She has the snarky judgement of a teenage girl, perfectly, “You call it predation. I see it as worship. Not the boy worshipping his God, the God worshipping his boy! You see corruption, I see anointment. And of course you fear it, of course it seems risky. No one touches love without being undone.”

And to Lucifer, she turns and says “You go too far because you always do.” But there’s a smile in it, a sisterly recognition. And then she turns to me. “You bled beautifully. But not blindly, not without purpose and not without regard for consequence.”

She walks up to me and I am almost overwhelmed by her. She lays a hand on my cheek, and murmurs, “what’s dangerous is not that he took you. What’s dangerous is that you let him, and that you liked it.”

And she turns back towards the room, and towards Lucifer,

“And now you’re trying to make sense of something that was never meant to be safe. I’m not arguing his innocence or guilt. I’m arguing sovereignty through surrender and divinity through desire. Let the boy love his monster. That, too, is holy.”

And a ring back from the prosecution: “Let the boy fall into the hands of the predator? Let him exercise his will even if it is to surrender to the beast? Can a human understand the implications of such an action?

And Lucifer responds back, when I look at him I find that he was looking at me.. “If you strip every mortal of the right to surrender, you strip them of their freedom. If power invalidates desire, then no god can ever be loved. I… exercised… restraint.”

And there was some sort of screen or something. It played moments between us, our conversations. Our most intimate moments. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. And this feeling started to fester in me. This feeling that I was being propped up and analyzed on a stage without my consent.

“The very need for restraint proves the dynamic is inherently unsafe. If his authentic desires risk consuming, hurting, or “owning” the devotee, then any sexual engagement, even benevolent or sacrificial, is fundamentally compromised.” The persecution continued, now addressing him directly, “Lucifer, you call yourself teacher, father, protector, and then you bind this child to you with threads of sex and sacred fire. You admit your fantasies would possess him, ravage him, take him from his duties. You admit that without restraint, your instincts are devouring. You call it love, but it is ownership. You waited, yes, but a wolf waiting outside a cradle is not innocent because it does not break the door."

And I’ll admit, that part did offend me a bit. And before I have a chance to speak the person who was sitting beside Lucifer representing him shoots their hand into the air. “Can I be a witness too?” He asks, and again he, like the others, does not wait for an answer to take the floor. And I don’t know why, but for some reason I didn’t recognize him until his hood was off. Ah, I should have guessed, so obvious. Dionysus.

And then he doesn’t address the jury at all, he points at me. “You there, you know what it is to be split open by love and find god inside your wound? You know what it is to be the chalice that is filled with your God’s purpose? However mad it may drive you?”

A moment of silence. Oh, yes. “Yes,” I answer. It wasn’t a rhetorical question. “Yes, I do.”

Then Dionysus turns back to the court “What are you judging him for, being honest about it? You call him guilty because he touched something sacred and let it burn. But is that not what we all do? You light a candle, it melts. You love a mortal, they change. You let that mortal change you, you evolve. And look at them. Changed, but not destroyed. Or if destroyed, then beautifully. And then I call that destruction the creation of something new, something realer than what came before it. HERE we have our tragic beast, the hunter who cannot hunt until his prey bears his teeth. The prey who demands to be hunted, runs in the direction of the arrow. The boy didn’t fall. He leapt. And Lucifer, ever the gentleman, caught him. Feeding.. Fucking… transforming, merging, we all know these things are one drink away from each other. ”

And the main figure who was representing the prosecution made a comment, “The abuser and the addict, we can’t say we’re surprised.”

And Dionysus cackles at that, “Yes, the queer and the freak!” and then shrugs, “You think love is clean, your problem is that you do not recognize that love is a form of madness itself. And if this boy is mad, what of it? We’ve created a world that has doomed him, doomed both of them. I see two beings destined for the flames finding sanctuary in each other's arms, holding each other until they are tempered to gold, what of it? If the burn is electric, if it makes suffering bearable, what of it? ”

And another hand shot into the air, this time sat on the side of the persecution. Far in the back. They took their time getting up to the stage. Their steps echoed. When he pulled back his hood… I don’t know why.. I was surprised. Caught entirely off guard. It was Archangel Michael, so brilliant he was hard to look at. I'm cooked.

He started quietly. “I did not come here to exonerate him. I came here because I’ve watched him.” A pause. “And I have seen what he does with what you cast away.”

He didn’t look at me or Lucifer. In fact he looked only at the judge.

“You fear that he breaks the weak. But what I’ve seen is that he finds them when you will not. That he sharpens those who come to him dull, and that they leave him with teeth, bleeding, yes, but unafraid. Loved, loved in a way that is not righteous or moral, but true. The truth is that this boy is not weakened, very much the opposite. That is what makes this dangerous. Because Lucifer, Lucifer.” He glanced at him finally, “Lucifer is just vengeful enough against those who cast doubt upon him to subvert their expectations. He will cherish the boy, perhaps he may never harm them. Because that is exactly what we would all have him do, to end this”

Then he looks at me, and I feel like jumping out of my skin.

“If there is guilt here, it is mutual. If there is madness, it is chosen. The sacredness of the dynamic is not in question. We all know this. How simple this would be if Lucifer did the obvious, but he refuses. We all know he always refuses. You condemn him not because he preys, but because he transforms the boy into something that cannot be controlled by any master other than him.”

Michael pauses again, and then concludes “He is not innocent. But he is not wrong. I recognize that conventional methods will not work for this unconventional human. I ask then, if the doomed cannot hold each other, then what will we give them in return?”

One of the main two prosecutors shoots out, “Love and healing that is not contaminated by the power imbalance.”

and Lucifer, now giving up entirely on concealing his anger, slammed his cuff on the table, and responded, “You speak of power imbalance as if mortals are helpless. But this one, Shi, his name is Shi, rebuked me. They challenged me. They redrew the lines. And I obeyed with the same trust he put in me. What predator honors a boundary once drawn? What groomer rewrites the contract at the whim of the student? I am not a slave to desire. I did not take. I gave, and gave again. If I fantasized about devouring him, I did not act on it. You think I don’t know? You think I don’t understand what I could do to him? I do not punish his rebellion; I admire it. You want to accuse me of passion? Of yearning? Then I plead guilty. But I will not plead to rape, nor violation. I waited until he asked. I waited until he was ready.” and then he bobs his head, “I waited until I was ready. And when he said no, I did not take. And when he called, when he stood as his own, I recognized him. And you judge me because you can’t, you won’t. And even now you disrespect him,” he almost stood up. He was the most vexed I have ever seen him, “even now you talk about him as if he’s not in the room.”

And that comment placed all the attention back on me. I wanted to throw up having that many ancient eyes upon me. My mind had not entirely processed everything that was happening. Is this real? Are all these Gods really here? Or is this my brain’s way of processing some kind of guilt or fear about Lucifer? I wasn’t entirely sure. The absurdity of the situation was affecting my judgement. Maybe that's why I acted the way I did.

I kind of just couldn't help but look around and laugh. All these Gods here in all the history of mankind, shedding blood, raging wars. I couldn’t help but say, "I thought you all liked blood?" For a while that’s all I could say.

Does it really matter how you got it? In all the ways that a human could bleed, this bleeding born of love and devotion, that’s too far? You’re all drenched in blood rituals and now you're acting scandalized? This trial is not about blood, or morality, it’s about power. The Council doesn’t object to blood. They object to whose altar it stains, for what reason. And somehow want is not valid enough. Submission chosen, not as pure as submission imposed. Bullshit. I mean no disrespect, but that’s bullshit.

and Lucifer gave me that kind of look that perhaps a father would give his son if he said something like that in a courtroom, a look that says "you're not respecting the gravity of this." but in it there was also a smile. and it followed with a laugh and he looked to the court. "See?"

And Dionysus speaks over him with a kind of theatrical flair, “Look at the boy! They are of him. This is not a case of a corrupted innocent, but a co-conspirator, a willing vessel, a co-creator of the taboo. You are asking the mad why he loves his mad God and he laughs in your face!”

And the prosecution: “The devotee’s irreverence is immature, inappropriate, and perhaps even proof that they were groomed into mocking authority. This is deflection, a sign they don’t understand the full weight of what’s being examined.”

And Lucifer, now calmed with a smile: “You fear this union because it is free, because it laughs at your pageantry. He is not my prisoner. He is my student, and he is becoming.”

“Becoming like you?” another voice from the persecution, “is that a good thing? Teaching a mortal that they need to bleed to be recognized? To be loved?”

And the attention was again brought back towards me, because I let out a huff and squirmed in my seat. Broke into another laugh, nervous laughter. But eventually I stopped laughing, cleared my throat and said:

"The thing about humanity is that you must bleed. You will bleed, and you must choose who and what you bleed for, why you get out of bed or why you lay in bed and let yourself rot and die. Perhaps I am too naive to consent to such a thing, perhaps I am just deer running into a hunter's trap. There must be those among you who can tell me why my alchemy is allocated in such a way that makes me predisposed to whatever this is but… If I am the deer falling in love with the hunter, would you grant me the opportunity to be wielded into his craft? You know, to be mended into his bow. The ink for his paintings, the little cup he keeps his paint water in? Both the predator and the hunter eventually slay the prey… I’m not denying that. But the hunter does something the predator cannot. The hunter sees the prey not just as a target, but as worthy, beautiful enough to inspire pursuit. The prey, now knowing their purpose, instead of fleeing, steps willingly into the path, choosing to be known, consumed, transmuted, or even preserved in the memory or art of the hunter. Do I have to ask for permission to fall in love not just with the hunter, but with the moment after the kill? Can I be made into his instruments, the very tools with which he creates and destroys, and to live on in his mythos as both lover and medium? Because that’s what he is to me, right now. My muse and my ink, my pen, my page. I gave my soul to Venus, didn't sell it, because perhaps I fell in love with the love that is only found when a hunter strokes his coat."

I kinda started to tear up which was embarrassing lol. I wasn't even entirely sure if what I said made sense. I looked to him for comfort, his gaze helped me breathe, the way he moved his hand. "Breathe." I got it together.

"I think I'd rather die in the arms of a mad God, it's your fault. You made me mad in the first place."

It was silent for a moment, but the persecution broke it with a question, “If the devotee must die to feel loved, is that love just?”

And I laughed again through tears, “I don't have to die to be loved, but I will die. That's the way you set up this game. I have found a love that transcends death. You're mad because he won, because Lucifer’s not supposed to have that, he’s not supposed to redefine it, he’s not allowed. And a human isn’t allowed to choose their own undoing, even when it liberates them.”

And before I could even really finish my sentence, another hand shot up.This one was closer to the front of the crowd. I knew him. When he stepped forward he was almost as quiet as Michael.

“This is the heavenly angel that first contacted the devotee, one of the very first spirits they ever worked with, who taught him how to properly communicate and interpret spirits. Jophiel takes partial responsibility for enabling the devotee’s relation to Lucifer.”- someone said it, I can’t really remember who.

I haven’t seen Archangel Jophiel in quite some time. We speak to each other far less these days. He was a very important chapter in my spiritual journey. And I will admit, I was bewildered to see him there, and slightly.. Nervous? Embarrassed? Shocked that he knew the depth of my intimacy with Lucifer. But I suppose everyone knows.

Jophiel just started, he didn’t really seem to address anyone in particular.

"I taught him how to listen. I showed him how to tell the difference between a whisper and a wound. I taught him to trust what stirred in the stillness and how to seek out the divine in strange places. I am witness to the full arc of what the devotee is becoming because I helped shape the very first steps of it. When I saw him tread towards you, Lucifer, I did not know he would fall for you in the way that he has. But I cannot say I am at all surprised that he did, and I would not say that if I had been mortal and placed in his position, that I would not have done the same. I know the desire to become a piece of my God’s art, I am the angel who is made of it. I do not merely understand the act of creation, I am a creation, a living sculpture of divine intention. My very being is shaped by a yearning to reflect God's beauty, purpose, and symmetry. So when he says: ‘make me the ink, the bow, the paint-water cup,’ I understand. That is not the cry of someone devoured, it is the cry of someone who wishes to live forever through their beloved’s hands. To keep their beloved warm after reckoning. To be used, yes, but as medium, as pigment, as vessel. It is not submission for its own sake, it is a fusion. And if that is madness, then I have lived it since the moment I first beheld the face of the Divine and did not turn away. Let no one here claim that to be art is to be lesser. Let no one say that beauty crafted for a God is a broken thing. I take responsibility for opening the door, yes. But he stepped through it on his own. And he chose again, and again, and again to stay. I do not believe he is broken. I do not believe he was prey. I believe he was transformed. But please know this: just because he is radiant now, just because he burns with divinity, do not mistake that fire for proof that there was no cost. I saw his terror. I felt his hunger. I watched him bleed and name it holy as beauty that moves and sings and gazes back. it is a dangerous, holy impulse to let their body, their blood, their life become a vessel for something greater. If you must find someone guilty, then let me be counted among them. I lit the first candle. And I also warned him,"

And Jophiel then seemed to look at me and express the same sort of sigh that Michael did, “and others warned him, Lucifer warned him, and he even warned himself. And it would be much simpler for us all if Lucifer just destroyed all of his children, then perhaps we could use this boy as a cautionary tale. But there is, there always are, a certain few that survive the flames. There is an art to playing with fire without being burned.”

Jophiel expressed that he had nothing more to say, and he was dismissed. I still don’t even know how to feel about that. After a moment, what almost felt like a cosmic coffee break, someone chimed in.

“If the verdict is that we should all just back off and let Lucifer do whatever he wants, who exactly is to hold him accountable when he eventually does burn the devotee? What’s to stop him from destroying the devotee when he gets the perfect opportunity or cannot resist his dark desires? I am unwilling to believe that this Lucifer is completely virtuous in all of his actions, and I believe that it is dishonest to portray him that way. There is a responsibility to prevent harm before it occurs.”

and I was sort of getting mad. Perhaps I spoke out of turn. Something about that struck something in me, maybe in the way she said it, and I knew it was a she.

“Me,” I answered, and I was asked to repeat myself. “Me. I will hold him accountable, I will be the one he seeks retribution from. Me. Who’s to protect Lucifer from me?”

From you? Yes, from me.

“What if I decide that I’m the one who wants to do the conquering? What if I reap his own surrender? What if I want to be a hunter too, and kill a giant man? He gave to me because I wanted, because I asked. Because I approached him and saw him as worthy. Over everyone. Over all of you. So what about me? What If I want to give back? What if I give back because I know it is the one thing I can do to destroy him back? What if I control the blood I give him and cultivate a bond more powerful and sacred than any union that has ever been known between God and Man? What if I train him? Transform him? Expose his vulnerabilities and wounds and wrap them in silk and devotion too? What then? Am I still the victim then? Do mortals need to ask for permission to slay their Gods? Or does that privilege only go one way? Gods slaying humans? What are the laws and ethics around consent in that regard?”

And Dionysus at this point is cackling, having a ball of a time. And Lucifer is looking at me with some kind of look that I’ve never seen him make before. I genuinely can’t read it, whether it’s pleased or not. But it is truly the first time I think I’ve ever seen him teary eyed.

“Young man, you should mind your tongue and have respect when you are in the presence of Gods.”

Her voice gripped me like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I have never heard her voice so clearly, so powerful. So commanding. So old and wise. I don’t know why I didn’t think she would be there. Inanna. Perhaps because I syncretise her and Lucifer so heavily, I’ve never seen them separate. But here she was before me in all of her glory and I truly did want to bow. Mother. If I didn’t know it before I knew it now. She was gargantuan, and she addressed everyone at once.

“Shi’s willingness to bleed, to be worn into the hunter’s coat, to become the paint water for his sacred art is not just love. It is initiation. This descent. This is what I myself did when Ipassed through the seven gates, removing my robes and jewels, my power and pride, until I stood naked before death.” She looked at me and my heart trembled, “You are not the deer. You are the hunter’s hunger. You are the oil in his lamp, the curve of the blade. And when he lays your bones in the shape of a door, you will walk through it, not as prey, but as Priestess. I congratulate you, my child, not for surviving the flames, but for choosing, for loving with the kind of abandon that demands resurrection. It is erotic, ecstatic, sacrificial and most of all: powerful. There is no true power without the surrender of illusion, and no true ecstasy without death and rebirth. You speak of guilt and innocence as if they are clean things. But love is not clean. Nor is death. Nor is power. I have known the taste of blood on a lover’s lips. I have worn the skin of grief and pleasure, and I have demanded my throne back after giving it all away.

This child came to the hunter knowingly, perhaps too young, too open, but who among you here has ever loved and not risked your life for mastery? You call it madness. I call it devotion. I call it alchemy. I call it sacred.”

But then she glanced down at me, and her glance was not cold. Not at all. It was kind of the way my great great grandma used to look at me. Actually it was the exact same.

“But do not forget yourself now, boy. You are very much mortal, your blood is finite.”

I nodded. Understood,

Then Inanna stepped over to Lucifer, she got very close to him and they eyed each other fiercely. “You want to be the boy’s father? Well I am his mother.”

And I think that is the only time I have seen him flinch.

“So tell me, and speak plainly: is this a game to you? Is this the part where you prove you can hold the heart of a divine child without shattering it?” she spoke in a low whisper, and I had an image conjured into my head. A lioness stalking prey.

And Lucifer looked back into Inanna’s glare with something very soft.

“I know you, Lucifer. I know the ache that coils behind your mask, the slithering seduction you wear like perfume. I know your slick tongue. But I also know the alchemy that flows inside that boy’s veins, the blood you like so much.That’s why you like it so much, because it’s you. It’s a narcissistic ritual of consuming yourself through someone else, changed, transformed into something more satisfying. Sweetened because it was earned in trust and reignited with a raw and innocent love, far, far too innocent to come from you, Lucifer. That’s why you can’t destroy him, that’s why you know he’s not the victim,” she laughed at him, “you’re the victim now. Destined to a heart raught when, if ever he turns away from you. When he eventually parts from you, your own ultimate undoing. That's why you want him to bleed for you, you need proof that someone so worthy would. That proof is the world to you. And that’s exactly why he will. That is why he has made himself yours. You have no control over his loyalty, and he has actively chosen it. The only way this ends is when he outgrows you.”

And he broke into a smile, bobbed his head. But it wasn’t a smile. It was something else. It was soft, quiet. “Of course.”

And seeing him make that expression made me want to rip my heart out.

And again, Dionysus exclaimed, completely interrupted, “Now we have a deer who cuts his hunter! And a hunter who will not eat until his deer has struck him deep enough to be deserving of his reaction! For the hunter is nothing without his hunt! Now the deer is a wolf, perhaps even a dog. Yes, a dog! The deer becomes a dog, not domesticated, but devoted. Not prey, but chosen. The dog hunts with the hunter, not instead of him. It bares its fangs not only at the hunter, but for him, too. And the hunter? He no longer wants a passive offering, he wants something wild enough to bruise his palms when he holds it, something whose loyalty is as dangerous as his own appetite. Lucifer does not feed until the strike from his beloved is deep enough, until he has been known. Not just loved, not just feared, but pierced, seen, named. And the devotee, now wolf, now dog, snarls and says:“You wanted blood? Then bleed with me!”

Cackling, finding the whole thing hysterical.

Inanna tears her glare away from Lucifer and concludes with her own kind of satisfied smile, “I believe the court has severely misunderstood the nature of the power dynamic in this relationship.”

Lucifer hangs his head.

The court was rained back in pretty quickly. Conversations and whispers settled. Conclusions were met.

“This is not love. This is delusion.”

“You’re speaking from trauma, not truth.”

“This is what happens when the broken are left unguarded.”

“You’ve identified with your captor.”

“This is cosmic Stockholm Syndrome.”

“He has branded you, not bonded with you.”

“Your consent is irrelevant. The crime is cosmic.”

“A mortal cannot consent to a being of such magnitude. The scale is too unbalanced.”

“You are clay. He is fire. And fire cannot love clay without burning it.”

“You’ve confused transformation with consumption.”

“He did not forge you, he devoured you.”

“You have not been transfigured, only disfigured and dressed up in language.”

“You are a danger to yourself and to others.”

“This soul is not to be judged further. They have chosen their path. Let them walk it alone.”

“They are no longer of concern to us. Let what they worship claim them.”

and so we were dismissed. We both left that room, he was found guilty. There was no prison that could hold him. We exited the courtroom.

And something really strange happened to me here. It was in the time when everyone was leaving, clearing out. And I could see the Gods behind their veils. Witness cosmic conversations, reunions, looks of recognition. Some removed their veils entirely to reveal things that spoke to something so primal within me but also so so unknowable. I felt so so infinitesimally small around all of these strange and ancient faces. Blue faces, bright eyes, many tongues. Non-Euclidean shapes. Like an absolute foreigner, witness to a culture, a language that I could not ever hope to understand or find myself within. Alien. Older than alien. A stranger in a strange land. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m dreaming too deeply. And it was dreamlike in that uncanny way, in its surrealness. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I had, except that I knew then, was painfully aware, of how incredibly young, how incredibly human I was. And the Gods know that I am human, they know that I am not one of them. They know that I am here and they know I am not one of them. I was amazed by how lost I was, by the height of the insurmountable danger and confusion. I am so so lost.

I waited in a hallway alone. Maybe it would be more accurate to say I was hiding. I was crying. This was all a lot, and I’m not even sure I’m processing it. This is such a huge reaction to something I didn’t think was so incredible.

But then down the hallway came Aphrodite, and she took my hand. And she gave me a look that reminded me why she is the Goddess of beauty. And she smiled, and her eyes glimmered. I will never forget that look. “Marvelous.”

And she didn’t have to say anything else lol, I started crying harder omg I’m crying right now trying to write this down wtf. But it was like, her looking at me like that settled every thought in my mind. Made everything instantly okay. And I was then giddy with glee.

And as she went go go I tried to ask her something, something mundane, something about my altar for her. And she batted her hand at me. “We’ll chat later.”

and when he, Lucifer, Lord Lucifer, finally found me in the hall, he grabbed me, held me to the wall, pinned me, and in my surprise I yelped. He kissed me, squeezed me, nibbled my neck, and we both dissolved into a kind of laughter. He held my face in his hands. I’ve never felt so comforted by them before. My sanctuary. All I wanted was to be alone with him. “You’re mine? You know that? You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” he growled, and he clutched me tighter, closer. A victory cry. and it made me laugh harder. He was tickling me. And we were both crying and laughing. He scooped me up and carried me out that door, and I melted into his hands, still laughing.

A whole day had gone by since that court ordeal thing. I’ve tried not to dwell too hard on it. I’m still truly not entirely sure what to think about it, if I should consider it legitimate or just an extremely weird extremely vivid Jungian level of projection. I don’t know. The anxiety I felt, that at least was real. The tears I cried, those were real. I still cannot bring myself to believe that my personal actions are significant enough to be worthy of divine intervention. But I don’t know. I’m not sure I know anything about anything that occurred. Or maybe that’s my own way of deflecting and repressing it. I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know.

The next time I saw Lucifer was when I was offering him incense, I guess mid day. He lead me into a trance. A very lazy one. It was more like a dream, again, I don’t know. My psychic mind or ability or whatever it is has felt absolutely fried these last few days. My only defense is radical acceptance that I don’t know.

I was again at his bedroom door, I had my robe but nothing else. I opened the door and the lights were off. Only a couple candles burning low. He was layed in bed beneath the covers. I asked him, can I come in? And his hand poked out from the sheets and beckoned me towards him.

Lucifer almost looked kind of pale. Or, I don’t know. Something was off about him. He was tired, if that’s even possible. Quiet, softened. I was immediately flooded with this feeling of woe for him, I wanted to do something to make him feel better. He held my hand tenderly, almost sorrowfully.

“Would you do something for me, my boy?” he asks in a whisper, the type of whisper you do when you have the flu, strained, weak. I nodded. Anything.

“Would you fix me a drink, please.”

Oh, okay. Yeah. It almost brought a smile to my face, so mundane. One of those things I have done for him 100 times. There's a little kitchenette area with different drinks, mixers, crystal cups. I fix him something that I think is vodka into a glass, mix it with something that smells sweet. I don’t know, I don’t drink..

And as I do so I catch a glimpse of a knife on the counter. Hm. I grabbed it. I glance back at him. He doesn’t really seem to be watching me. So I dig the end of the blade into the tip of my finger until it breaks my skin. There’s a few drops of blood, just a few. Not too much, not a frivolous amount. I let them fall into the drink and stir it with my finger.

When I return to him he takes it from me, takes a sip, and then glances at me. “I didn’t tell you to do that,” he murmurs. But he also drinks it. All of it. Every drop.

Then he reaches for my hand, my thumb. The residual blood on it. And he licks it slowly while glancing into my eyes. Then he opens up his arms, pulls the covers back. He’s not naked. Idk, I assumed he would be. “Come,” he whispers, again, with so much exhaustion. And I crawl into bed with him, let him take me into his chest. Fuck, he smells so amazing. He smells like home. And his arms, his embrace is so warm. So gentle.

“Lucifer,”

I say his name but nothing follows it. But I asked something. I’m not even entirely sure what I asked. But I needed him to answer. I clutched him like I was afraid he would dissolve in my hands, into salt.

“Never,” he started. He pulled the covers up so that we were both beneath them, cloaked in darkness. “Never should you have been even slightly surprised that I was pronounced guilty.”

I clutched him harder, needed him closer. I’m not. I wasn’t. Not even for a second was I. Guilt, innocence. That’s not what matters. I don’t care. I don’t care at all. That’s not it. That’s not why I feel this lump in my throat, why I feel like screaming and crying. I didn’t before. I was content, content until the moment I saw him like this. I was shaking because I was scared, but I didn’t know what I was afraid of.

“Love,” his voice cracked. I could feel through the darkness that his cheeks were wet. And my heart sank, imploded. I felt an insurmountable sense of doom.

“ I didn’t care, not at all. Because there is no law, no court, no God, that could ever keep me away from you.”

Yes. I know.

“Shi, you are the only one that has this power, it is yours. I am at your mercy, it is yours, it will always be yours.”

And it was the first time (omg I’m literally bawling writing this FUCK) ever that he has tried to be the little spoon. He pushed my arms apart, opened me, and then clutched onto me. He sunk his face into my chest, and I cradled him. He sunk deeper, I was watching his descent in real time. In all the melodrama I have seen from him, in all his woes and agonies, I have never seen him crumble and weep like this. He placed my hands on his head, over his ears.

“I love you,” he cried, and his inflection did that non human thing. It lacks dimension, or maybe it has an extra dimension. It comes out unfiltered, not even tuned for the human mind to comprehend.

And then he smiles, and I can see a power struggle happening on his face.

“In this craft, this space, we make promises all the time, oaths, rites,” he says, “I don’t mean to downplay the severity of those,” he continues, “but please, Shi, love,”

And ?? aa

I don’t know how to really describe this but it was like

If you have ever seen someone go through an episode in front of you, this was very that.

He was very clearly desperately trying to self soothe (pathologizing the gods?? Im cooked) in a way that was reminiscent of someone going through a manic episode. That curled up in a corner in the closet thing. He was in pain, or experiencing fear. There was some kind of compulsion in there, something violent and almost loathing, self loathing. Intrusive. Or maybe not. I’m not entirely sure what it was, but he was clinging to me, and he was crying.

I cry all the time, Lucifer may shed a tear every now and then. He’s never done this with me.

“Can you please, make me just one promise,”

It was a very dark, but not dark as in devoid of light, feeling. It was nothing. Actual nothing, oblivion. It was weightless, suspended, the feeling of reaching a peak of an ascent upwards when you are thrown into the air. A moment of absolute weightlessness. And and intense fear of that. Maybe because I was born on Earth and I’m accustomed, trained, wise with the fear of fucking falling.

A promise? One more promise? Yes, Lucifer, my Lord, of. What is it? (lol I’m crying)

“If I place this dagger in your hand and I let you wield it against me, my love. Strike true. Do not hand this power over to anyone else, ever, never, I have given it to you,”

Falling.

“When you leave me, my star, please, let it be because you outgrew me, outlived me.”

And though I held him, and I clutched him, and I soothed him, and I did not speak, I still said it. I still thought it.

What a hopeless fantasy, Lucifer, you are so tragic.

To ever think that a mortal could outlive a God, that I in my human life of a century or so could ever outlive the need and want and drive and passion for The Morning Star, as if I would ever stop searching for that. Everywhere, Lucifer, everywhere I can find you, trace your trail. You fed me.

Oh baby,

Maybe that’s why humans are obsessed with other animals. Domestication or something. Dogs, cats. I imagine the grief that a human can feel. Must be nothing compared to a God.

“I will never give this dagger to anyone else, Lucifer, you have my absolute certainty on that,” I answered him.

“I’m very proud of the idea that my presence has allowed you space to forget that you are cursed, I want to be that for you. In this life, I have dedicated myself to being that for you, for myself, so long as I am Shi.”

Land.

I breathe with relief.

My sanctuary. Not his, mine. You realize in retrospect that you would much rather be the dog.

“But, Inanna was right. I am mortal, my blood is finite.”

And I pulled his face up towards me, even in the dark I could see him, and he looked older then than he ever has.

“Lucifer,” like I was pointing out something stupidly obvious. “Remember me. Cherish me,” and I kissed him, I rubbed up against him, I cuddled him. “Love me.”

And he grabbed my arm, and a blizzard of heat overcame me with ferocity. But it was pure energy, fire. The fire I know. I smiled.

He kissed me and it was like being shocked. Tt jolted me, and I yelped in surprise, and he tackled me. And for a moment there was a struggle, we were wrestling in the dark.

A half chuckle, “really?”

Take off

I struggled hard against him. Squirming, laughing. This is dumb, because obviously he can over power me. He bit me in the stomach and it hurt, and I reactively bit him in the arm. He laughed.

And then there was struggling I guess, and he bit me again in the back. I tried to squirm but he wouldn’t let me. He had me pinned down on my stomach. He mounted himself on top of me. I’ve never wanted him more in my fucking life.

He kept me pinned down as he undressed himself. And he slowly, delicately revealed me. I forgot about the struggle. He brushed his fingers down my back, then started kissing it, slowly.

When he finally pushed himself in he let out a whimper, “would you let me love you, baby?”

He felt so warm and familiar all around me. His movements were perfect.

“Would you love me, baby?”

I pushed myself into him, pulled him into me. He sucked on my neck. “Please.”

We made love to each other for quite a while, he felt sweeter than he ever has. Bellowed smoke. In the end we somehow ended up facing each other, kissing, inhaling each other.

I rocked forward and found the dagger in his night stand. I’d never been so sure of my decision to do this. He placed his hand over mine, didn’t guide, didn’t resist, watched me closely.

I cut my chest, deeper this time, deeper than before. I bled a healthy stream. More than before. But I only cut myself once, only let him cut me once. Then I put the knife away and let him drink from me. His tongue upon me was like rain on molten lava. I don’t know. I turned into obsidian. And he drank beautifully.

And when he was done, he let himself sink into my chest, and for a while we shared each other’s warmth. And he thanked me.

Okay. One more. Just a short one this time.

Didn’t sleep well last night, I had all kinds of fragmented dreams. This one though, I do remember very clearly.

It started with dirt and dry grass. And a tunic, or whatever those sleeping sacs are called. I was laying on it. It was sunset, or maybe early morning. But I’m leaning towards sunset.

There’s a fire pit in front of me, it’s lit. I’m in a small camp, a cowboy style camp. Smells like campfire. And he’s tending the fire. He has a brimmed hat on, an old, dusty coat that’s patched with different fabrics. Belt, boots. Gloves. I don’t think I saw a horse. I think a couple bags. We didn’t have nothing, that I knew. Nothing valuable to other people. And we were alone.

And I was laid in my little sleeping sack in what felt like pajamas. I was very flat on the ground. And when I stared out into the country it was something devastatingly nostalgic. The smell in the air, the field, what seemed like endless field. A perfect sky. The sound of some kind of critter roaming about, some bird. And the grass. Dry grass. The type you wouldn’t really want to sleep on, but once you did eventually lull to sleep, it was nice… cool. Everything is a shade of blue in that lighting. And I don’t really know if I’m me right now. I mean I know I am, I know it’s me. But it’s not Shi. I don’t know. A past life maybe.

Maybe this was a little pocket of time before cities, or houses. When people, maybe just poor people, black people, immigrants, slaves, hicks, still slept on the ground. Out in the open, in the field.

They probably didn’t feel as safe as I did there.

He came over to me and looked down at me. Slipped off his gloves and threw them down in the dirt. He sat. Tipped off his hat and leaned back.

“You think they’ll find us here?” he asks as he pushes my hair out of my face. And a smile grew on me.

“Yes,” I answered, and he smiled back. Placed a kiss on my forehead.

I layed there with him for a while. I wanted to savour that place, that world. Something about it.

“I like it,” Lucifer whispers, settling into me. “Let’s stay a while.”

Ironic. It was cruelly short.

#lucifer devotee #lord lucifer

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ofmdrecaps · 4 months ago

Text

12/27-31/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Part 1

TLDR; Nathan Foad; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Samson Kayo; Ruibo Qian; Madeleine Sami; Cont'd in Part 2!

WOW Okay, sorry crew, I have been sick (with that weird thing that causes appendicitis type pain but am now better!), and had to clean my entire house (and essentially renovate half of the bottom floor) for a friend who is moving in for a month, and she showed up 3 days earlier than planned, so I basically have been MIA! So I'm gonna try to make this easier on myself to get this out already-- and the end of the year is going to be two posts in one!

== Happy (belated) Birthday Nathan! ==

Happy belated birthday to the absolute legend -- Nathan Foad! He shared some lovely tributes from his friends, as well as a badass tribute by @hotdiggitydollie of Nathan's character from Newark Newark!

He also sent a shout out to a fan who made this beautiful scroll for him!

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram Stories / Hot Diggity Dollie's Instagram

= Rhys Darby =

An new picture of Rhys when he was out doing stand up at the Bourbon Room in Hollywood!

Source: Tmiddendorfphoto's Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

Taika caught out and about by a fan!

Source: Instagram

Rita and Taika were also in Times Square for New Years Eve! Rita was hosting with Ryan Seacrest and as usual Taika was there for love and support.

Source: Vera Ora/Rita ora's Instagram Stories

= Con O'Neill =

Con ran into a fan at the close of the year!

Source: Con O'Neill's Instagram Story

And if you haven't seen it yet-- had a very spicy New Years message for you!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Con O'Neill (@oneill.con)

instagram

Source: Con's Instagram

= Samba Schutte =

Samba left a lovely end of the year wrap up message for everyone <3

"2024, thank you for your gifts and for your tolls. Started with the blessing of being born a dad and it’s been a non-stop no-sleep magical and heart fulfilling whirlwind ever since🙏🏾✨ Funerals were no foreigners, but getting to see family and loved ones rejuvenated my soul✨ I got to spend the funnest time with the greatest fans, baking, connecting, traveling and raising money for charity after our lovely show was sadly cancelled✨ My first lead in a romcom got distribution, as did a fun series, a horror and a sweet short, all of which I was lucky to be part of✨ I got to voice great characters in projects I’ve been a fan of, and again I was lucky to be a part of each and every one✨ I became a US citizen (perfect timing) after years of walking on eggshells as an Alien of Extraordinary Ability👽 And I’m so grateful, humbled and excited for what lies ahead: as a parent, a partner, a colleague, a friend, a cheerleader and an advocate for love, peace and multicultural unity✨ I know a lot who have had a rough and tough year. And I pray this next one is better, brighter, healthier and easier❤️ Thank you to all who are always in my corner and supporting my journey. I appreciate you so much. At the end of the day it’s not about the destination or the path we take, but about the company that we share along the way. And I’m one lucky son of a duck to share it with you❤️🙏🏾🧿✨"

Source: Sambas Instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Our beloved Jim was selected as one of the standout trans honorees! Thank you @adoptourcrew for spotlighting this!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

Today in Gay goes live on Jan 1!

Their first preview episode is available on their substack! TIG Substack.

Source: Vico's Bsky

In response to what I assume is David's OFMD Fanfiction, Vico mentioned they may be doing something new with their Patreon in 2025!

SourcE: Vico's Bsky

Not enough Vico news for you? Here's some more! Just some puppy snuggles!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vico Ortiz (@puertoricaninja)

instagram

Source: Vico's Instagram

Last but not least, Vico's posted three more s2 BTS posts! I've put a screen shot of each of the three videos below-- check out their paid patreon for the full videos! First / Second / Third

Source: Vico's Paid Patreon

= Samson Kayo =

Samson's friend Daniel Kaluuya posted some recent shots of Samson!

Source: DanielKaluuya Instagram

= Ruibo Qian =

Ruibo was kind enough to perform for everyone again!

Source: Ruibo's Instagram

Our pirate queen ready for the new year!

Source: Ruibo's Instagram Stories

= Madeleine Sami =

Season 2 of Deadloch has wrapped!

Source: Mads Instagram Continuing in Part 2!

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panlight · 10 months ago

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hi!! i’m so sorry to keep sending you asks (if you get sick of it please just let me know and i’ll shut up i promise!! 💕💕)

so this is re: the cullens being in high school, as per the ask you answered a couple days ago! i also always thought it was super weird, and i’ve been thinking for a while now that a MUCH better cover story would for them all (even carlisle and esme) to be grad school housemates (i say this as someone who has now spent two years in grad school and is about to be there for another five at least lmaoooo)

here’s why i think it would work:

1. the age weirdness wouldn’t be as obvious bc people of all ages go to grad school (i started when i was 22 and had classmates in their 40s)

2. related to age, the visible/physical age also wouldn’t matter as much since some of my classmates (me included 😭😭) looked like we could still pass as high schoolers while others gave off huge “kids and a mortgage vibes” even if they were just like a year older

3. the whole looking “off” and tired thing is just like. the grad school Look™️. the shadows under the eyes and general gaunt-ish appearance honestly wouldn’t stand out that much and if somebody said something about them looking “off” or whatever, they could just be like “late night studying” and the other person would be like “lmao so true bestie”

4. if they pretended they were all renting space in the same big house (and carlisle and esme just acted a little less parental), the whole “dating each other” thing wouldn’t be that weird at all. i feel like it’s not that uncommon for couples who get along to rent different floors or sections of a house, and if they didn’t pretend to be one big weird family situation and instead just acted like they all met each other at school, i don’t think people would even bat an eye

5. people go to grad school forever. like. for so long (i vaguely knew of someone who was in the eighth or ninth year of her phd). esp if they picked something like a big state school where the “kids” could go to undergrad first, they could realistically do four years of undergrad, maybe a two or three year masters, and then a phd of indeterminate length (usually at least five). that would allow them to stay in the same place for at least 11 years

and this is not an official point, but i will note that for carlisle to still do his whole doctor thing, i think it would be perfectly reasonable for him to have already “graduated” or whatever, but continue to stay with his “friends” for financial reasons, or just bc the living situation worked for everyone

anyway, i’m so sorry this was so long, and honestly i bet someone has already said this somewhere before, but it just struck me when reading the “why tf are the cullens in high school” post that grad school would be such a great cover story for them

haha anyway thanks for putting up with my ramblings and thank you for all the lovely work you do on the blog!! 🥰🥰

I've definitely seen "just put them in college!" before (and I have made that argument myself) but I don't know if I've seen the grad school cover story specifically before!

It would allow Esme and/or Carlisle to be the 'peers' of their children rather than some sort of guardian or parental figures. They could, as you said, all be renting a house together and Esme could be studying architecture or getting a PhD in art history or whatever while the kids study who knows what. Maybe there's a medical school as well and Carlisle can go back (it still makes zero sense that Edward and Rosalie go "to keep him current' like how is that supposed to work? They come home and just recite from perfect vampire memory everything that happened in calls? Wouldn't Carlisle be keeping current by like, idk, actually being a doctor, reading journals, going to conferences, and continuing education?).

A group of friends renting a house together as a bunch of couples makes way more sense than two parents barely visibly older than their foster/adopted kids who all date each other.

And, honestly, it's probably a better use of their time to get actual advanced degrees rather than stopping at undergrad? I know because of secrecy how they use their knowledge and skills is somewhat fraught but like, publish papers under a false name or let someone else take the credit or something and you can still contribute to the world of academia.

#asks

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orangejuicex3-mieoi · 5 months ago

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do u know what happened to Skylars art accounts ? It’s probs weird to ask but I know u guys were friends and I used to really love her art but can’t find her socials

skylar and me are still friends! I still text her everyday HAHA she just deleted all her social media and doesn't draw much anymore! She's actually working to become a dentist now and only draws maybe once every few months? She's pretty anti social media now and plans to eventually have a dumb phone (like a very minimal flip phone or something) so im not sure if she will ever have an art social media again. I'll ask her if she wants to say anything in response and if she does later, I'll add it to this post with an edit!

Here is skylars response:

"I don’t have any social media anymore, whether for myself or my art. I honestly don’t draw much at all anymore. At the time I had my accounts, I was very ill and agoraphobic. I used my hobbies as a distraction from working on myself, and so I spent the entire day drawing, or playing video games, or doing some loser shit. I started drawing less once I started trying to be better. Got my GED, my license, a job. I’m in school now. Got accepted into my program of choice and I’m in therapy. It takes a long time to be properly diagnosed, but it seems like we’re working toward diagnosing me with c-PTSD lol, so yeah, that’s kinda fucking my life up. There is a part of me that misses drawing. I think about it a lot. I think about making an account and trying to indulge in it. But, honestly, I fear it, along with any hobby I used to have from that time. I hope that when I’m really, truly healthy I’ll be able to revisit it and engage with it and grow with it again. Right now, I kind of reject my love for it. I don’t really trust myself with, uh, joy? I get really addicted and obsessed with my escapism, and I’m trying not to lol. If I were to annoyingly quote a song at you: “I’ve been much better, but atleast I’m healing.” I’ll send Brandi some of my more recent drawings to add, but there’s nothing impressive or finished among them. Thank you for asking about me. That’s very sweet. I never had nearly as many followers as Brandi did/does (nor did I deserve them), so it’s funny to me that someone is still thinking about me. Sorry for my verbosity. I’m a sick woman."

and I'll attach some of her recent drawings in a sec! :) I had to crop them so tumblr doesnt flag LMAO this is mari skylars main oc rn!

I also did some style exploration of her oc a few months ago for fun since skylar's been playing with her head shape!

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blue-jisungs · 2 years ago

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medicine

a/n. i promised myself to focus on the events and only post them but since i’m in a good mood today, here’s a small self indulgent thing i wrote yesterday at 3am :^)

warnings. reader is sick, a bit of language barrier + messily written n not proof read (i’ll regret that later)

it came off extremely weird to chan that suddenly you called him to inform about your business trip. “i’ll be gone for five days, maybe a week… sorry i’m letting you know just now but i found out like, an hour ago” was what you said two days ago, throwing a little ‘i love you’ and hanging up.

besides that you didn’t even go and see him to say goodbye before you left. he would lie if he said he wasn’t offended but, maybe it was urgent… besides, he’ll get lots of kisses once you’re back, right?

wanting to surprise you and help you a bit, chan decided to go and clean up your place. if you left in a rush, there was probably a mess. huge mess, knowing you. he also missed you so he thought while he’s at it, he’ll steal a hoodie or two of yours. just so smell your scent…

but was be surprised when he walked into your place, keys in his hand, a cough echoing from your bedroom. chan frowned, closing the door and walked towards the source of the noise.

and his heart skipped a beat, shock washing over him. you were curled up on your bed, laying under two blankets and warm pair of socks on your feet. painful cough ripping from your throat as you tried to reach for the glass with water.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who walked into your place without you knowing. when you turned around, his heart clenched.

glossy and puffy eyes, nose all red due to constant blowing and pressing tissues, flushed cheeks and tear stains adorning them.

you mumbled something incoherent, plopping down onto your bed again. chan hurriedly walked over tho you, putting his hand on your forehead.

“oh my god, you’re burning up! did you take some medicine? how long have you been sick?” he asked, grabbing your hand with his free one. you sniff, looking away in embarrassment. but chan isn’t having any of it, stern yet concerned look on his face “y/n.”

you sigh and try to sit. chan helps you, placing a pillow behind your back before you rest it against the headboard. he sits down at the edge of the bed, both hands grabbing yours and ebony eyes looking at you in anticipation.

“well, there’s no business trip. i got sick and–“ you cough, covering your mouth with your elbow. chan sighs, looking at all the tissues laying in the floor. once the attack stops, you groan “i didn’t want you to get sick too… and other reasons”

the last part is mumbled so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it. but he did, which resulted in him frowning.

“is it about me seeing you like this? y/n, we’ve been dating for three years now… it is weird i haven’t you sick before but trust me, i lived with seven other guys for the last few years of my life. i’ve seen a lot” he giggled, a smile tugging at your lips too

“well this too but also…” you trail off, this time he didn’t understand a word you said.

“what?” chan huffed, squeezing your hand encouragingly. you sigh and look down.

“well… i didn’t understand the meds descriptions and i was too scared i’ll mix them up” you murmured, cheeks turning even more read. even though you’ve been living in korea for three years, the medical language still leaves you clueless.

“oh baby” chan grunted, hands moving to cup your cheeks “you should have called me”

“i know i just… didn’t want to bother you. and then i was too exhausted to look it up, my eyes watering after mere seconds of looking at my phone. i thought it would go away eventually…” you explained quietly, finally looking at him.

and his features are nothing but soft. as much as chan would love to gush about how cute you are, he knows he has a task ahead.

so he gathered all the medicine available in your house, quickly making you some hot soup and warm water with honey to ease your throat pain.

once you’ve eaten and took a quick nap, chan is sitting next to you and explaining slowly each medication and what is it for. occasionally looking up at you with loving eyes, he makes a mental note to write it all down later and put it in the medicine container.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

#skz #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #bangchan #bangchan fluff #bangchan x you #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bangchan skz #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bangchan drabbles #skz drabble #skz boyfriend #skz imagines #skz soft hours

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mjart12699 · 6 months ago

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Decided to post a fic I wrote a while ago on here since I have been too busy lately to write anything else anyway enjoy some Muriel’s not the Step Father He’s The Father Who Stepped up content

Woodcutters

I’ve always liked the woods. It’s always been calm, but not silent. There are little noises I can pay attention to and identify as I walk the path, feeling the dirt beneath my shoes.

It’s different now though. The woods are filled with the noise of people, scared people who came here out of fear of the city and settled right in the yard of my zio’s oldest friend.

The friend who is now my ma’s boyfriend, it seems.

Muriel seems nice, and from what Asra has told me he’s a good person. I feel calm around him, and so do the chickens and other animals that live here, so I suppose I can trust him. What’s weird is seeing how my ma is around him.

My ma was not very trustworthy of other people before she got sick, and she still had a lot of social anxiety after she woke up again. She’s been working on it. According to Asra and Finn, I’ve been a big help since we’re really similar. She got a lot better after we found Wojtek, a puppy that grew into a bear-like dog a few months after she was okay again. To see her so relaxed around someone, let alone Muriel, is a bit weird.

“Hey, Sawyer.” Finn’s deep voice pulls me back from my thoughts, and the scratch of my pen on the paper I grabbed comes to a halt. “Did you hear what I said?” He sits down next to me, and I feel his eyes on the paper more than see them. I shake my head in response, tracing imaginary lines in my mind across his dark hands as he fiddles with a foraging bag. “The adults are having another meeting, so your mama is going to be busy again for a little bit. I figured we could go look for some more of those honeysuckle flowers that you like, maybe practice some illusions?” I think on it for a moment before nodding, packing up my art supplies in my bag and standing up.

“I have to put my stuff away.” I sign to Finn before running off to my tent. It’s near ma’s and Muriels, towards the back of the hut and away from the people. Ma made a few jokes about how the three of us have that in common, the need to be away from the noise.

I open the flaps of the tent as I undo the locking spell, walking on my knees to avoid letting my dirty shoes touch the floor of the tent. I know it will get dirty anyway, but I don’t like the feeling of dirt touching my skin when I sleep. I tuck my art supplies under my pillow, shaking out my bag to make sure I didn’t miss anything and then repacking what I will need to take with me. My stuffed mammoth, my mini sketchbook, a piece of charcoal, gloves, extra socks in case the ones I’m wearing get wet, a sweater, and some candy so I don’t chew the inside of my cheek. Once that’s packed, I wiggle back out of the tent, closing the flaps and redoing the protection spell. I nearly fall back when I stand up and turn around to see Muriel, kneeling down to pet Wojtek right outside my tent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He doesn’t stand up, which I’m okay with. The man is ridiculously tall, my earliest memory of him being when Asra took me out here, I think I was a toddler. He had been wearing his chains, and his hair had been a lot longer. I also remember he didn’t seem as soft as he does now, a feeling I can’t really explain. “Your mom and I have to meet with everyone again, to talk about what’s going to happen. We- I mean, she wanted you to know where she was in case you’d need anything.”

I nod in response, feeling my hair brush against my neck and slapping it away when it itches. Muriel’s face changes when I do that, the same way that other adults do when I do anything considered weird. “It’s itchy.” Is all I sign before I walk away, finding Finn and his cat, Annette, on the outskirts of the settlement and taking one of the more wild paths with him.

I practice my magic a bit as we walk, summoning small gusts of wind in my hands and holding up leaves or flowers in midair with it as we walk, and sometimes coming up with small illusions. Finn’s job when we are not hiding from a bloodthirsty monster and his band of mercenaries is to dig up old bones and study them, paleontology. I went on a lot of his digs with him the year that we left Vesuvia while mama was sick. He had always kept me in the shade, putting big hats on my head and making sure I was wearing enough sun cream to “keep the people who make it from ever going out of business”. He talks about the bones he’s found as we walk, telling me what he thinks they might have looked like and asking me to summon the description in my hands, then summoning his own to compare. It’s a fun game we play, something that keeps my mind from wandering to the bad stuff.

By the time we find the grove where the honeysuckle is, the sun has started to head more into the evening, and a chill blows through. I pull my sweater out of my bag, the soft purple yarn smelling a little bit old and in need of a wash, but comforting.

“I admit that I brought you out here with another ulterior motive.” Finn’s large hands pluck several of the white and yellow flowers at a time before he deposits them in his bag. “You’ve been looking a little sad, and it’s easy to see why.” I turn away as he talks, knowing that he knows I am still listening. “It was nice and calm for a while, then the Countess hired your mama for a weird job. A week later she has to go down south with a scary lady and the best friend of your uncle, who looks and seems like the exact opposite.” Annette climbs some of the branches, her soft fur shining a warm brown in the dappled sun, her golden eyes watching me knowingly. “ Then she comes back after months of being away, right before the biggest party of the year, dating said guy.” He’s right about that, it was weird to see them together. Asra seemed really happy about it, and tried to tell me stories of him and Muriel when they were growing up while he and my ma were down south, but it still felt strange. “Next thing you know we are all running away from the city and into the woods and we have to set up camp around a bunch of other people, some of which have obviously not learned about camping etiquette.” This makes me laugh a little, because it’s true. Not a day goes by out here where someone doesn’t start an argument with another person about something stupid. I feel Finn’s hand on my shoulder, and look up to see that he also finds it funny. He kneels down to my level picking some of the flowers on the forest floor as he does, all ones we can use for medicine or food. “The point is, you’ve been holding in a lot, and it’s okay to miss your ma. I know you think that because you’re one of The Big Kids out here that you have to act brave and happy all the time, but you need to remember that you are nine years old. It’s okay to have all of the bad feelings.” I don’t like that he’s able to read right through me, but that’s what happens when you spend most of your life around someone.

My throat feels sore and wet, and the area behind my eyes hurts. I know it’s a sign that I’m going to cry, but I still don’t like it. Finn pulls me down, leaning against the small tree the honeysuckle had been growing around and letting me sit against his side. I rock back and forth against the tree, not able to do anything else to calm myself down. Finn fishes my stuffed mammoth out in response, tucking it into my arms and rubbing his hand up and down my back as I hide my face in my knees. Annette comes down from the tree, purring as she wiggles her way into my lap and kneading her paws in order to get me to release my legs from my grip, preventing marks that I would normally scratch into my skin. It feels like forever has passed before I stop crying, and it still feels stupid to cry over something like this when I’m done.

My legs feel heavy when we decide to go back, so Finn hoists me up so that he’s giving me a piggy-back ride. If I weren’t so tired from today I would protest, especially since I’ve been getting a bit too big for that, but Finn doesn’t seem to mind, and carries me easily all the way back to camp.

I’m nearly asleep when we do get back, but I’m awake enough to help Finn and Mazelinka, Zio Julian and Zia Portia’s kinda-grandma, with making dinner. Mazelinka tells stories as we make the soup, her time at sea and the antics Portia and Julian would get into when they were younger. Everyone who was at the meeting, the Satrinava’s, Asra, Muriel and Ma come and eat with us when the sun starts to set even more.

The soup is good, and it makes me feel nice and warm despite the temperature drop outside. Finn sits between Ma and I, chatting with her about what happened in the meeting as we eat. He’s always felt like a nice protective bubble for when I don’t want to talk, but I know from experience that Ma will ask me what’s wrong soon. She has a weird sixth sense for it. By the time I’m done with my dinner some of the adults have gotten out drinks, some dancing around controlled fires and others laughing loudly with each other.

I don’t like it.

Ma see’s that easily enough, and when Finn begins to dance with Asra and Julian she scoots closer to me.

“Time for bed?” I nod, leaning against her and breathing in the smoky scent that lingers on her clothes from the fires around us. Wojtek follows us when we stand up, yawning and stretching before sending a deep bark out into the woods, earning a howl in return. “We’re going to head off to bed, you gonna be okay?” I already know she’s talking to Muriel. I hear him hum in response before she takes hold of my hand and we walk back to the tents together.

It gets cold pretty quick once we leave the community fires, but even then I am slow to get into my tent and into my pajamas. Ma gets hers on from her own tent, tapping the outside of mine in silent question. I open the flaps to let her and Wojtek in, which makes the tent really cramped pretty quick.

“So, today was pretty long, huh.” Neither of us are good at small talk, or starting conversations, but it’s surprisingly nice that she’s trying to ease into what she wants to talk about. I nod, grabbing my quilt and wrapping it around my shoulders before leaning into her, nearly melting when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me down onto the pile of furs that make a bed for now. “I’m so sorry baby. I haven’t had a lot of time with you lately, and when I do there’s always other people around so it’s never just you.” I tell myself that I’m listening, even as she runs her tattooed fingers through my hair and the thump of her heart tries to sing me into sleep. “I can’t promise to spend tomorrow with you, but after all of this is over, we’ll do whatever you want. Day and dinner, does that sound nice?” I nod as I hum in response, and it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep after she brushes my hair out of my face and Wojtek curls around me.

The snow is up to my knees out here, and my breath freezes as it leaves my mouth. There are structures that surround me, old and worn so much that it would be impossible to fix them up again.

Suddenly, the red sky no longer weeps little white flakes. Instead, they’re gray, and it smells awful. The ash nearly chokes me as I try to run through the snow, but I’m not paying attention, so I fall through the ice and the cold water seeps through my bones as sharks swim in protective circles. I don’t have the time to scream. I try to kick my way back to the surface, I should know how to swim, but it feels like something is holding me back.

I don’t look down to see what it is.

I can’t.

But I can feel her bones, and hear her soft voice.

I’m on the shore again, but the scene is different. It’s an island this time, and there’s no snow. Only ash. I wonder if it’s the same ash from before as I push aside the dry branches to walk through it, the feeling of dread in my chest doing just as much damage as the ash in the air.

I come to a building, brick and mortar and on fire. Ash piles out from it and I can’t tell if those who were once inside are still screaming or if it’s just the flames and coals. Something touches my shoulders, the same thing from earlier, and when I turn to see what it is my screams die in my throat.

The specter doesn’t have any defining features, just embers within shadows. Empty eyes see right through mine, and their hand reaches for my shoulders again. The touch is gentle, and filled with so much sorrow that it’s overwhelming.

I nearly vault out from my blankets, any sound dying in my throat when I throw up next to my bed. Wojtek is gone, and the tent flaps are open. I barely process that Ma comes in when I throw up again. She rubs my back and holds my hair away from my face for a few more minutes to make sure there’s nothing left in my stomach. I think she asks if I want to go to bed with her. I think I nod. Muriel is standing outside the tent, not enough space for him to come inside. I think I hear her say something about cleaning up, and then I’m passed to him.

He smells nice.

We go into his and Ma’s tent, where he gets water and a rag and sits me down near the bed. There’s a small orb of light, just enough that we can see but not too much to hurt our eyes in the late hours. He helps me clean my face, rearranging the furs in the tent so they’re more spread out before sitting me down in the middle. He leaves the tent for a few minutes, I think, and when he comes back Ma is with him. She gets me to drink some water, running her hands through my hair and pulling me close. I think I hear her and Muriel talking to each other, asking out loud if I might be sick. I shake my head, but I’m too tired to explain. I just want to sleep.

Ma lays down first, pulling me with her so that I can use her arm as a pillow. Muriel is the one that pulls the blankets over all of us, his thick arm wrapping around both her and I. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m here, and the little nagging voice that tells me I’m in the way nearly shuts up when he pulls us both closer.

I’m confused when I wake up, and feel like I’ve been boxed in by a million blankets. It takes a few seconds longer than I’d like to admit for me to remember what happened last night, and another few for me to process that the reason I’m so squished is because I am surrounded on all sides. Wojtek managed to lay on top of me in the night, further boxing me in between Ma and Muriel. It was nice last night when it was nearly freezing outside, but right now, under a thick quilt and the sun beginning to rise once again, it is not.

I resign to my fate, however, when I remember that Wojtek is nearly twice my size, and even if he wasn’t here on top of me I don’t want to wake Ma and Muriel. I take a deep breath and settle back in, tracing imaginary lines on Muriel’s face while he sleeps.

I like studying peoples faces, it’s something I’ve always done as far as I’m aware. I’m not very good at telling how someone is feeling just by their face, and I have difficulty recognizing people whenever there is a slight difference in appearance, like when they change their hair, makeup or even the metal of their jewelry.

I’ve never really studied his face before. He wasn’t around enough to warrant interest, but now he’s around all the time. He doesn’t seem to like it when people stare, though, and after Finn explained why I just avoided looking at him in general. He has a scar on his cheek and brow. I mentally trace the scar on his cheek, and look at how there isn’t hair growing close to it like there is on the rest of his face. I wonder if the hair can no longer grow there.

I’ve gotten bored of tracing his face by the time Wojtek yawns and gets up, somehow managing to not not step on any of us as he leaves the tent for the morning. The change still wakes Muriel up, while Ma still holds on to a few more minutes of sleep. I had closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep when Wojtek left, and I turned over when Muriel got up to get ready for the day. He’s still wearing most of the Masquerade outfit that the Countess gave him, although he took off the cape part, leaving only the shirt, pants and boots. Everyone else had managed to find their normal clothes after the fact, except for him.

He’s weird.

Ma finally wakes up after a few minutes, brushing my hair out of my face again before getting up. I wiggle back under the covers, knowing that it’s time to get up but not wanting to leave the cozy nest. I don’t know if they know that I can hear their hushed voices.

“Do you want me to stay while you talk to him?” Muriel’s deep voice is easy to identify on any day, even with the failing enchantment The Hermit gave him.

“If you want to, I won’t pressure you, but it has been a few weeks since we’ve been out here, gah, I don’t know how to talk about this…”

“It’s fine, I think I get what you’re trying to say… and you’re right, I shouldn’t just avoid being around him… I’m not sure how to explain why I have been either.”

“It’s okay, it’s understandable. You don’t have to explain right now, but I do think it’d be good for him if you were here while we talked.”

He hums in response, and I feel Ma’s footsteps come closer before she kneels down and gently shakes my shoulder.

Despite being awake before them, I still feel groggy. I turn over to see that she’s already pulled half of her hair back, although a lot of it still frames her rosy face. I sit up, still pulling my blanket around my shoulders and groaning when my stomach growls.

“Buon giorno piccolo, ti senti meglio?” She rests her hand on my forehead while she talks, pulling it away after a few seconds and scooting over a little closer when Muriel comes to sit down, a cup of water in his hand. “Do you still feel sick?” I think for a minute to see if my stomach still feels all twisted up, and nod when the thought of eating makes the nausea worse. Muriel hands the cup to me, his brows knitted together making the scar on his forehead move slightly. A little voice in the back of my mind wonders if it still hurts.

“Bad dreams?” I hadn’t expected him to speak, and everything feels slow before I am able to nod, doing my best to drink the water and get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ma rubs her hand up and down my back, sending shivers through my brain and down my spine. “We’re pretty good at listening.”

My head throbs when I think about it too much, but I do my best to tell her anyway. “The sky was red, and I fell through the ice. There were sharks, and something was pulling me down.” Wojtek comes back into the tent, sitting down across Muriel’s lap and extending his paws into mine. “Then I was back on a beach, and I went through the woods to the building. It was on fire, and the thing that pulled me down just stared at me.”

By the time I’m finished with what I could recall from the dream I can hear Vesuvia waking up for the day as well, mixed conversation muffled from the tent. Ma pulls me closer, nearly into her lap and continues to rub my back, using her other hand to comb through my hair. Muriel looks at the floor, his hands busy petting Wojtek.

“Maybe drawing the thing in your dream will help a little, we used to do that all the time.” Ma’s idea normally works. Most of my memories of her from before she got sick are of us drawing together, her showing me how to mix paints to get the color I want and the way different brushes would have different strokes. We haven’t done it in a while. I nod against her shoulder, the movement making me skull throb, before standing up and going to my tent to get ready for the day.

We have breakfast just outside our tents, the first one in a while that’s at least a little quiet. Muriel had the idea in the first place, and Ma went to the campsite to tell Asra we’d be having breakfast alone.

I’m so used to someone trying to squeeze by me for something or bumping into me that it’s a little bit weird that we get to make breakfast and eat in silence.

I pull my hood up over my head, hiding the tangled mess my curls had become overnight and sitting down a few feet away from Muriel, close to the fire. I watch as he shakes the frying pan with the eggs, thinking of the paint colors I would need to get the right shade of yellow for the yolk.

“Do you want to try?” Muriel’s voice breaks my thought, and I look to see he’s holding a spatula out to me. I scoot closer, looking at him before grabbing it and trying to flip one of the eggs. The yolk ends up breaking, but when I try to give his spatula back to him he just scoots closer, putting his hand over mine to hold the spatula and flip one of the other eggs. That one doesn’t break. I still give the spatula back to him, preferring to watch and not fail at something so early in the morning. By the time ma is back from talking with Asra everything is cooked and served on three plates.

“Sorry that took longer than anticipated, Finn wanted to know if you were doing okay and then Nadia heard and yada yada yada…”

“It’s fine, Sawyer helped me with the eggs.” Muriel hands her the plate and gets the kettle off of the fire, pouring the hot water into three cups before settling back and getting his own plate.

“Did he now?” She has a weird look on her face, even as she stirs more cinnamon into her tea and crosses her legs to balance her plate, it’s like she’s hoping for something.

They chatter back and forth as we eat, mostly about the battle plans and safety measures taken in the forest. Everyone’s talked about those types of things so much that I’ve learned to tune it out, but it also means that I tend to tune out important stuff.

Like when ma asks me a question.

I look up from my plate, ma has her head tilted the way a cat does when they’re curious about something, as though it makes more sense at an angle. “Repeat?” I have to use both hands to sign most of the time, so I just set my plate to the side.

“We were talking about the things we could do today. I think we all need at least a little bit of a break before tomorrow.” She looks between both Muriel and I as she talks, taking a sip of her tea in between. “Got any ideas besides painting?” I stir the eggs and mushrooms on my plate as I think, tidying them into their own piles so they’re not touching.

Of all the things we can do out here, I’ve done most of them. I’m not saying that I would be bored with anything I’ve already done, I’m just worried that none of them would result in anything useful.

Muriel leans over to ma, whispering something in her ear that makes her nod, her smile changing to the one she wears when she’s about to beat Asra at cards, a rare occurrence. He turns to me, his plate almost cleared of the mushrooms. “Maybe you could help me with renewing the charms around the camp? The forest has had more traffic than it’s seen in centuries and the protective spells we’ve had up are nearly burnt out.”

Well, I have needed to work on my charms… I nod, resuming my breakfast with a set plan for the day.

“That’s great! I do have some stuff I need to work out with the Countess, so you two will be alone in that endeavor, but I’ll come back to paint sometime after lunch.” Wait, us two? “I’ll see you later.” She kisses Muriel and then kisses my forehead, standing up with her dishes seemingly without any thought.

I help Muriel clean up around the fire pit after we’ve finished eating, washing the dishes and putting them away. Wojtek helped with the dishes too, licking off any remaining food from mine and then following me around while I did my morning chores.

When everything’s all done and put away I go back to my tent to get my bag, making sure that nothing was misplaced before putting it on and stepping out.

I haven’t gotten to do much with charms quite yet when it comes to practicing magic. Asra focused a lot on water types and illusions at first, teaching both Finn and I the simple stuff. Ma always taught me about hedge magic, and after she woke up we all learned about various magics from Asra, but we haven’t really focused that much on charms for a while.

Wojtek bumps his snout into my hand, indicating that he wants me to rest it on my head while he leads me somewhere. It’s how we walk through the markets on a normal day, and at the moment he’s leading me towards Muriel. His head nearly reaches one of the lower branches, and the fur cloak he wears makes him look a lot bigger.

“Most of the charms were made by Asra, but some of them are mine.” I’m surprised I don’t have to walk very fast to keep up with him, his pace being slower than Julian’s, who practically leaps everywhere. “We actually started making them when we were a lot younger, when we first moved out here. Some of them had to be replaced over time, mostly from weathering, but others have held on for longer.” We stop walking when we reach one of the trees, huge and covered in moss. “Like this one.” Muriel gets something out of his pockets, long strips of cloth that he wraps around his hands and ties off at his wrists.

I have to wave to get his attention before signing. “What are those for?” He pauses wrapping his other hand before continuing with an answer.

“They’re to keep my hands safe, and these,” he pauses before pulling out two smaller strips, “are to keep your hands safe.” Wojtek sniffs the fabrics before sitting down at the base of the tree, taking a deep breath like he’d just run a mile. Inanna seems content to sit with him.

“We’re climbing?” I might as well ask all of my questions before I can’t ask them.

“Mhm, can I see your hands?” Muriel kneels down in front of me, showing how to wrap the cloth the right way so that it actually stays.

It feels weird.

“I’ll help you up to the higher branches, but most of them are pretty close together, so you won’t have to worry.” He leads me to the base of the tree after standing up again, eyeing the branch for a moment before looking back at me. “I’m going to have to pick you up for this one, will you be alright with that?” Looking at the tree, I don’t think I’d get up there any other way, so I allow it. Muriel puts me on his back, the same way Finn does, and jumps to grab onto the branch. I have to squeeze my legs to avoid falling off, but he pulls us up to balance quickly.

I get back down, holding on to Muriel’s arm without thinking about it so I can balance myself. I’m not really used to climbing trees this big.

“I can show you the branches to grab before you climb, and then I’ll follow.” Muriel looks around at the branches above us, pointing to a thick one I can reach. “You might have to jump a little for that one, but you can push your legs against the tree. I’ll be right behind you.” He’s right, even at the base of the branch I have to jump a little, pushing my legs against the tree for leverage and clinging to it once I’m secure. It takes a lot longer for me to get upright than Muriel did, but he doesn’t seem to react, he just climbs up after me and shows me the next branch and the next one and so on.

It feels like forever has passed once we reach the top, where a small, worn out charm dangles from a branch on a piece of twine. Stones and seashells decorate the center with twigs woven around them to create a rune. The closer I am to it, the safer I feel, but it’s a different safety than Asra’s magic.

Asra’s protective spells feel like tempered glass around you, watching the ocean from inside and hearing the echo of the things that pass. Muriel’s feels like diving into a nest of blankets and furs in front of a fire when there’s a howling blizzard outside.

I sit on the branch as close to the tree as I can get, looking over the trees and across the horizon. I can pinpoint the camp from here due to the smoke that rises from some of the trees in the distance, and behind me I can see a few of the small mountains, which ma likes to call glorified hills.

Muriel shows me the process to recharge the charm, which seems to make it age backwards somehow. His hands take on a slight green and bronze glow as he focuses on the spell for the first half, but then he stops.

“Hold out your hands, and concentrate on the rune and what it means to you,” I do as he says, watching as my hands develop a dim bronze and orange light washes over them. It flickers even as I try to focus, giving way to the green and bronze light from Muriel’s hands. “For a first try you did well. It took me several to even make this work in the first place. Then there was getting them all put up.”

I have questions.

I wait until we’re done with the charm, watching as Muriel hangs it back up on the same branch, which makes it rewind in its age within a few seconds. Once he’s done with that he looks below us, eyes bouncing from branch to branch and plotting a route back down. Before he can move to get down I tap his arm, making sure I have his attention before signing.

“How old were you when you moved out here?” He makes a weird face, his eyebrows raising and eyes widening, an expression that Asra says means someone is shocked. He almost says something a few times, but then decides not to.

“How about we talk when we’re on the ground again.” He doesn’t seem to want to answer at the moment, maybe it’s because we’re so high up.

I follow him down, sometimes having to hold on to him while he gets us to the branches that are further apart, much safer than jumping down.

Wojtek and Inanna are still waiting for us at the bottom, and their tails start to wag once they can see us. Wojtek runs in a circle at the base of the tree until we get down, wiggling in place in front of me while I pet him. We get back on the path to the next charm after catching our breath.

“My childhood…” Muriel’s voice is quiet, a deep rumble in the distance. “Wasn’t very pleasant. I had Asra, and they had me, but that was it. I had thought for years that my parents had abandoned me because they couldn’t feed me, and I grew up avoiding being a burden at all costs.” The brush is thicker back here, and I have to raise my arms to get through. “The people of Vesuvia were hardly ever kind to the children of the docks, and Lucio’s rule made their wariness of us even worse, especially when he began to collect us for dirty work.” The next tree is shorter, and we go through the same routine as we go up. Muriel pauses to talk in between branches, explaining that his parents had not abandoned him, but he just didn’t know what had happened to them. He explains how he met Asra, and their eventual decision to go to the forest. “I had watched and helped some people build their houses at the outskirts of the city when I was a little older than you are, and once I thought I knew enough we went to the woods to build the hut. It took most of the spring and summer. I had to fix a few things as we got older, like the fireplace and the roof, but it was worth it to escape the city.” When we get down again I don’t even recognize that my legs feel sore, too many questions going through my head to even think about it.

I ask a few more questions as we walk, most of them just verification of Asra’s retelling of their childhoods together. Those seem to make him a bit less nervous, and I get to hear some of the stories that Asra never told, like the fact that when they first met my ma was because Faust had tried to climb in through her window at the shop.

“First time I actually met your mother was at the shop as well, and she was still pregnant with you.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. Your ma and her aunt were celebrating the solstice, and Matty had invited Asra and I. I hadn’t gone to the coliseum yet so I wasn’t as nervous about going somewhere like that if it had been a few months ago.”

“Did you like her then?”

“Hm?” The next charm is on top of a big rock that we’re approaching, so Muriel gets that one by himself pretty fast. It’s quiet for a minute before he answers. “I don’t really know. At the time I knew that she was someone who’d befriended someone I cared about, and I was really just making sure they were safe there.” He hits the ground with a thud, dusting his hands off and sitting down against the rock. I sit down with him and watch Wojtek try to play with Inanna. “I remember that she was more focused on making sure we all ate than making an impression, and that she enjoyed playing the banjo your aunt gave her. She fell asleep before everyone else though. I carried her up the stairs.”

“And me.”

“Yeah, I suppose I did. Don’t tell her I said that though. She won’t let me live it down.” I think he might be joking since he laughs after he says that, but I still won’t tell ma. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to the next one, we’ll take a rest for now.”

Inanna watches as Wojtek races around her, sighing when he starts to slow down a bit and walking off into the forest when she’s done entertaining him.

The clouds in the sky begin to gather, and the air begins to smell like it’s going to rain. I stand up immediately, but Muriel just kinda relaxes into the rock.

“We need to go back.” I jump up and down in front of him, pulling my sweater out of my bag and over my head to avoid any droplets. He takes a minute to stand up, dusting off his hands and unwrapping the cloth from them.

I try to make a run for it, keeping my sweater over my head and ignoring how my bag thumps against my legs. Wojtek runs ahead of me, his ears flopping and his fur getting soaked within a few seconds once the rain turns from a sprinkle to a downpour.

I’m not a fan.

I love the rain… when I am inside. However, when I am outside, it becomes difficult to enjoy. The water is cold and makes me shiver, making my clothes feel weird and stick to my skin. My hair gets frizzy and tickles my ears and touches my neck in a way that I just can’t stand.

Heavy footsteps follow behind me, getting closer and closer until I feel heavy furs wrapped around me and my body lifted up over someone’s shoulder.

Muriel gets us back to the camp faster that way, and I don’t think he breaks a sweat the entire time despite all the climbing that we did.

The magicians in the camp work to make shields over the fires to keep them from going out and the people huddled around them dry. Almost everyone else has resigned to staying in their tents.

The tent ma and Muriel stay in is filled with light, and ma opens the flap before we can. “No entry until you’re dry, come here.” She laughs as she lifts her hands, filled with a warm light that sends away all the water from our clothes and prevents any more from getting on. “Leave your shoes too, they’re caked in mud.” I don’t even wiggle around much before I feel her take my shoes from me, and Muriel sets me inside the tent. I’m still wrapped up in the cloak so I lose my balance and fall to the ground, and judging by the laugh I hear from outside ma definitely saw.

Untangling myself from the cloak takes a minute, and once I’m out of that I can see that ma has Muriel sitting on the ground while she dries his hair with a fluffy towel. He reminds me of when we have to dry off Wojtek with towels, the rare smile on his face proof that he might be enjoying it.

I always feel like I’m intruding whenever I see them like this. It’s weird, I know. I don’t know how to explain. I’m not jealous, I know that. However, I’ve never really witnessed openly romantic relationships up close. Zia Matty tells me about herself and Husain, the archeologist she’s married to. I’ve seen people on dates or strolls throughout the city, but I’ve never seen anything besides that.

Thunder claps outside of the tent, and lightning follows soon after, making the darkness of the forest outside not as heavy.

“It seems we’re in for some worse weather than we thought, huh?” Ma pulls out her bag, embroidered with bees and violets on the cloth, setting it on the ground and pulling out paint brushes, paint and paper. “Good thing we had plans for stuff that we can do inside, but first!” She turns to me, pulling another towel from the makeshift clean laundry pile in a corner of the tent. “Devo farti i capelli, sembri un piccolo leone.”

I don’t have to scoot very far to be close enough that she can do my hair, but it is funny to watch Muriel’s face as he tries to piece together what she said with context clues.

Ma talks to the both of us as she does my hair, stuff about her morning and how the meetings went. I can tell she’s leaving a few details out since I’m here, but I’m not sure I would want to know anyway.

The feeling of the brush in my hair is a familiar one, bringing up both pleasant and bad memories. I hated having my hair brushed when I was little, and would run away from anyone who tried to do my hair in the first place. Asra said that it took a while for ma, Finn and them to find a hairbrush that I wouldn’t scream at, and we still use the same one years later. She rubs one of the oils we managed to get from the shop in her hands, rosemary and mint, another familiar scent that almost immediately makes me relax a bit more. She always puts it on my scalp, massaging it in and combing whatever’s left on her hands through the rest of my hair. Asra likes to joke that it’s why my hair grows so fast. The longest I’ve grown it was down to my waist, but that was before ma got sick, and when she woke up most of her hair had been cut off.

That was the only haircut that I ever asked for.

Muriel tells her about how our morning went, finding a few of his own things within the tidy piles of stuff we have in the tent. He uses a knife to carve into a block of wood, the chips curling when they fall to the floor. It’s nice to watch, and I nearly fall asleep before ma’s done braiding my hair away from my face and down my spine. It’s still a little damp when she’s done, and it will probably stay like that until tomorrow because of the weather and just how much hair there is.

Even with the storm raging outside, it’s nice and cozy inside of the tent. The spells were put on all the tents when we first got out here to prevent leaking and damage still intact thanks to daily check-ins.

We sit around the lantern, each person focused on their own tasks and almost completely silent. It’s not awkward, for once. If anything, it feels right.

The paintbrush in my hand glides on the paper, leaving streaks of color over white that will soon longer show through. My favorite things to paint are mammoths, an animal that I’ve always loved. A majority of my books back home are about them, and I’m pretty sure Zia Matty and Asra are to blame. Matty liked to show off her illusions before bed, something she did with my ma and her brother when they were little, and with me before she fled from the plague. Her favorite one’s to do were often about ice-age animals, talking about the theories about them and what we know so far. Asra likes to say that they encouraged my interest in them after they crocheted my stuffed mammoth for me. Finn helped me gather my collection of books about them due to his job, even making a cast of a mammoth's tooth as a gift for my birthday one year.

I hope none of it has been destroyed by the raiders.

While the rain continues to pour outside, it’s warm and dry inside of the tent. The fabric of the tent is a deep blue, a little taller than most of the other tents around the camp so that Muriel can stand up in it for the most part. Furs cover the floor, keeping it warm compared to the cool ground. More furs are piled on one side of the tent, the makeshift bed ma and Muriel have been using. A chest of clothes and useful things from home is next to the bed, flowers painted all over it adding color to the space without looking odd.

Most of the noise from inside the tent comes from the sounds of Muriel’s knife scraping against the wood block, or ma’s erratic sketching on her paper. I look over and see that ma is painting a field of rolling hills with tiny blue flowers. Mine is almost finished, since I painted what I had seen in my dreams last night. It’s not as good as ma’s painting, but she’s an artist for a living and an adult so she would be better anyway. I scoot closer to ma and show her the painting I did. She takes it from my hands carefully, blowing on the paper to help dry it while looking at it. Her brows furrow while she looks at the paper. We spend a few minutes like that, just looking at the painting. It makes my heart beat faster and my throat feel tight because I’m worried I did something wrong, but she pulls me close again and sets the paper down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head, and scoot back to my spot to grab more paper and my paint brushes again. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Muriel moves his head so that he can see the painting, and moves closer to ma to whisper something in her ear before going back to his carving.

I’m painting mammoths again. The field they walk in is covered in frost and small patches of vegetation, just like Zio Finn said they would. I like to paint them with bright colors though, using purples and blues and greens with the normal brown paints instead of just shades of brown. Ma is still working on her flower painting, adding small details with a thin brush and a careful hand. She’s used to tattooing skin and taking her time with it, so her paintings normally have a lot of tiny details that most people don’t notice in them. Muriel’s carving is starting to take shape too, and I’m starting to notice that he’s looking at my stuffie a lot in order to carve the mammoth.

The rain refuses to clear up, pouring harder with each hour that passes. The thunder and lightning doesn’t slow down either, and I wonder if we’re at risk of flooding. Muriel makes me think that he can read minds sometimes because right after I thought of that he told us that he built the hut here because it hardly ever floods, and if it does he has charms and protective spells around his hut to prevent leaks. He and ma enforce the charms on the tent for the same reason, checking the storm protecting thingy on top and drying themselves off when they come back inside. Muriel has me help him make more protective charms to put up directly outside of the camp and when we’re done with that I get out one of the books I managed to take with me and read while ma and Muriel do… whatever it is they do.

It was stupid to think we’d have a peaceful day.

The raiders attack when the sky is at its darkest, sending shouts through the camp and startling all of us in the tent. Ma tells me to stay put while she and Muriel go and help everyone, putting on her boots and cloak and leaving me alone in the tent.

I fiddle with the necklace my dad gave me and hold my stuffie while I wait for them to get back, rocking back and forth on the blankets and looking around the tent to keep myself busy. It’s hard to do anything else when I’m worried about my ma getting hurt or worse, and it feels like time moves slower while they’re gone.

It takes a while for them to get back, and when they do Muriel has a cut on his leg. Ma cleans it up and heals it, but falls asleep right after so he helps her into the furs and removes her shoes and cloak. I’ve seen her fall asleep after using a lot of magic, but never just from a healing spell.

“She fought pretty hard… no wonder she’s exhausted.” Muriel stacks the furs on top of her, brushing her hair out of her face and taking off the green bandana she has over her hair. “Are you alright?” I nod, finger combing the fur of my stuffie and rocking back and forth. “I… there has been a lot going on lately and if you need to talk to someone… I don’t mind.” I set my stuffie down to sign, my head tilted to the side.

“I’m okay.” I don’t actually know if I’m okay or not, but I tell him I am anyway. He sits with my ma for a few more minutes, not really doing anything when he grabs his carving stuff again. I watch as the wood curls when he pushes the knife against it, the pile on the floor slowly growing.

“Do you want to try?” He’s already carved out a rough shape for it, and he’s started working on details. “I’m not sure if your mom would be okay with you handling knives, but I started learning when I was about your age, and I’ll be right next to you.” I think his logic makes sense, so I move to sit cross legged on the cushions next to him and watch him carve the wood. He explains a few things while he does, and then hands the wood and knife to me. He shows me how to hold my thumb against the knife to guide it and how to keep my fingers away from the knife's path.

Muriel has taken over carving the wood by dinner time again, but he’s given me one of his older pieces to paint. It’s a carving of a bear, but I paint it green and blue with tiny flowers all over it.

Ma sits up and rubs her eyes, looking at us and at the top of the tent. “What time is it?”

“It’s close to sundown, if I had to guess.” Muriel puts his things away, looking at my ma when he’s done.

“I’m going to guess you two waited to eat until I was awake again?” I nod, bouncing my leg and still painting. “Well we should get started on that then…”

“You should rest, MJ.” Muriel tries standing, but while his leg is healed it must still hurt because he hisses through his teeth when he stands.

“You should too, but alas we are both adults here who need to eat and I’ve gotta feed this one here too.” She says all of this with a smile, standing up and ruffling my hair. Both of them end up working together to make something, ma heading out to the camp to check up on Asra once we had everything started. Dinner is okay, but I miss being able to cook on the stove back home. Even the fireplace in Muriel’s hut would be better, but he’s lent it to the Satrinava’s and Mazelinka uses it to cook for a lot of people at once most of the time. I show ma the carving Muriel let me paint after we’re done cleaning up, and I start to head to bed. Wojtek still isn’t back, but he’d be soaked anyway, so I start to get ready to go to sleep.

When I start to open the flaps of the tent, Muriel stands up, the carving he’d been working on in his hands. “Put this next to your pillow… it should help.” He hands it to me, and when I look closer at it I realize he’d carved runes into the back and the belly of the mammoth. I can see ma watching from the bed where she’s rearranging the furs and pillows before bed. She’s not very discreet.

“Thank you.” I sign to Muriel before heading to bed, doing a small spell to keep the rain from touching me before I get inside my tent.

I think the carving works, because I don’t have scary dreams that night.

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