#the black priest thing also had me dead

[lostgirl1428]

Ik we all big mad rn but can we just appreciate how amusing this dynamic between Strange and Wyn is?

[vidavalor]

Hmmm...I feel like I asked you this before,but why do you think Crowley doesn't like the 14th century??

I don't think you have actually, Rouge. Aww, the grumpy Crowley picture, my heart! I had missed him so. 😁 I can answer that, yeah, especially if you help me consume the holiday treats I'm lucky enough to have from some lovelies?

Why does Crowley hate the 14th century?

The short answer is also the only answer here and that's really just that the 14th century was, by all accounts, godawful. Especially if you lived in Europe, as Crowley and Aziraphale did then.

Yes, there is always hope and lovely people and somebody making art somewhere no matter what else is happening but heed this warning now: when we all start time-traveling, there will be these dirt cheap options to go to the 14th century and you should remember this post and definitely not do that. 😂

Here are some reasons why (and nowhere near all, as Tumblr only has so much space...):

Early in the century, The Great Famine of 1315-1317 hits Europe. Several years in a row of terrible weather ruins crops and, compounding the problem, a terrible disease rips through the cattle and sheep population at the same time as the crops fail, decimating the cattle and sheep population by an estimated 80%. Millions starve to death and millions more go half-mad from the lack of food, causing crime to also increase. The foundations of society start to shake as so many are sickly or dead that the ability to keep everything going begins to come close to collapsing. This is just the warm-up for the century...

This is already an era that is very hard to live in. We couldn't hack it then with our modern comforts and expectations. There's no indoor plumbing or heating or electricity. Medical and scientific knowledge was more limited so there were no vaccines and no understanding of germ theory. Diseases that we have eradicated today entirely or can treat and make no longer life-threatening would rip through populations in waves on the regular. Life expectancy was much shorter because of the inability to inoculate against viruses-- and, really, from a lack of understanding of germs and disease in the first place. No one understands enough about disease to even think about societal efforts to stop the spread because they don't yet know what a virus is.

These are the conditions when The Black Death-- bubonic plague-- shows up in 1346. It kills tens of millions. By the end of the 14th century, as a result of Black Death and wars, Europe's population has halved compared to what it was at the start of the century. Life expectancy was never great but now, with bubonic plague atop all of the other diseases already in existence, it becomes wild for someone to live past the age of 30. The average lifespan drops to 26 and families are having so many children because the diseases we've eradicated today through vaccines still exist and kill them in huge numbers, with 20-30% of all kids dying before they reach the age of 5.

In the midst of this? The average person was illiterate. Gutenberg's printing press wouldn't be invented until the 15th century and the ability to mass-produce written works with it is what helped it become the norm in Western societies for the average person to know how to read. Aziraphale and Crowley, in the 14th century, would have been able to get access to written works mostly by associating with priests and high-ranking members of royal courts, as these men were the main people who were able to read and write and were responsible for keeping records and transcribing materials.

There were still playwrights and artists and scientists and everything but the 14th century is also an age of rampant anti-intellectualism and all the insanity that comes with people being against knowledge and science and art. While there are always people making art and learning new things in every era, there's kind of a reason why when you think about great advancements in humanity, the 14th century is not really the time period of which you think. Technically, the Italian Renaissance began during the 14th century but basically every major work in it was made well after it and it's more like the foundations for it were put into place during this era-- probably by Crowley and Aziraphale having had enough lol.

It's an era of persecuting scientists, condemning art, being suspicious of people with knowledge in basically any field... there's a lot of calling people trying to do anything other than pray, starve or die sorcerers and witches and demonic and all that nonsense. There's hate everywhere, especially rampant antisemitism, with pogroms in the later part of the century where countless Jews were rounded up and murdered in the streets.

Atop all of this, Italy suffers an enormous earthquake that is also felt across parts of Europe that, when coupled with all the death and suffering, does what things like that have always done throughout history... increase the number of people who now think the End Times are upon them and usher in all sorts of extra doomsday-prep weirdness.

This is all egged on by the fact that societies across Europe are basically on the verge of collapse as a result of The Black Death killing so many people and everyone is grieving and afraid and on edge. It's also helpful to know that, in between all this famine and death? There's also wars on all over the planet. Basically every established country on Earth is at war with another one for the majority of the 14th century (to be fair, this is true of most of history) and the one happening in Crowley and Aziraphale's backyard of England was no picnic.

The Hundred Years War started in 1337. Historians consider its end date, uh... 1453. It was a war between England and France, who also had a whole civil war in there in the middle of it. There were some attempts at truces and some 'sorry, too many people are dying from the plague for us to keep trying to kill one another right now-- revisit this next year?' periods but the conflict continued for over a century. It was largely triggered by... what else?... the English king at the time-- Edward III-- trying to say that he should also be king of France. Surprisingly lol, no one in France was really into that idea... England and France both also see these massive revolts of working class people in response to the high taxes of the war, the limited resources, the plague, etc..

This is just a handful of the likely top reasons why the 14th century was not Crowley's favorite. I don't think Aziraphale was very fond of it, either. They're two curious, literate, food-loving, peaceful, warm-hearted people, and they would have spent that century drowning in the worst of the human experience.

I'm sure they think about all that misery sometimes when they're warm and comfortable without miracles and enjoying seeing greatly reduced child mortality and many people living past a century. They probably often think about it when they're eating food sourced from around the world that exists in plenty, especially in places like The Ritz, that would have been unimaginable for most during the 14th century.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Black Wedding

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: FEET (sorry Fen!), complete worship, mind control, the incubus. Tummy bluge since apparently this is contensious now???

3.2k words

A/N: Some pov shifts.

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Priest are you there? Can you hear my voice? Do you hear my prayers? Are you out there? Forgive me priest For I have sinned (I know not what I do)" ~Black Wedding, In this Moment.

Sweating, tossing, turning. 

The demon, the manifestation of your inadequacy tormented you so often you’d come to be complacent in it, the ravaging of your body nearly a nightly part of your bedtime routine. You just wanted to feel safe in your own bed again. You wanted your husbands to stay the night, to protect you from the terrors, but how could you confess what was happening? 

When you wake up in a cold sweat, fear shivers down your spine as you dry heave and gasp for air, red daylight seeping in your curtains and bathing your clothed body in the image of blood, you are determined to change something. You can’t go on like this. You had Francisco now, you just needed to win back Pope. You were ovulating, now was your chance, all you needed was to have all their hearts.

*

Ben was a lot of fun. You and him did the most activities.

Before he became angry with you, Pope and you mostly spent time outside of sex in your studio. He liked to watch you paint, sipping wine with his eyes over the glass observing the strokes. It was quiet, peaceful, and calming.

Francisco, since your trip to the field was taking you more and more. He liked to take you out to the meadow, fucking on the blankets and putting flowers in each others hair. He let you put a flower crown on him, looking so pretty you had to reward him.

Will treated you like a princess. Will promised that first day that he’d help work out those pains in your back, and he was. He liked to massage you with his healing oils, making your body feel good and comfortable before he filled you up, stating that your comfort and health was important for conceiving.

But Ben, Ben was fun. Ben’s time was filled with laughter, adventure, and lots of sex. Today he took you out on a horse ride, much like Frankie, but there wasn’t a picnic. That wasn’t Ben’s style. What was Ben’s style was making the horse go ‘really fuck’n fast’. 

You felt like a princess, your handsome prince whisking you away to some far off land. Benny made you giddy, he made you feel wanted. When Pope and Francisco both wanted nothing to do with you, it was Ben and Will who made you feel seen, feel beautiful, feel desired for.

You watched Ben climb a tree, begging him to be careful but he swore up and down he was going to find you the best peach there was. Ben loved food.

“Please just watch your step!!” You shout after him, but then turn your attention to the open field. From the top of the hill, you could see the fields of gold you used to labour at. Watching the others work, all but tiny dots on the horizon, sometimes you felt bad, like you weren’t contributing to Delta… Will had reminded you that you were called to a higher purpose, for something more. The DNA of gods was constantly inside you, and you wondered if it was changing you in more ways than just the hopeful pregnancy. Maybe you were more than a saint. Maybe their seed was creating a goddess, a new mother- nonononononono that was heresy! You shove the idea out of your head like an intrusive thought, determined to keep your thoughts clear.

THIS was why the incubus was tormenting you! Your thoughts were impure, vile, evil, and so were you. Tears began to burn behind your eyes.

“Here!” Ben drops upside down, hanging by his knees on the tree branch, making you gasp. He’s holding a peach, which you happily take.

“Thank you.” You smile. He always knew how to make you smile. Ben himself was shining as bright as the sun today, a reflection of his good mood. He said he’d make sure there’d be perfect weather for your outing, and he delivered, not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Will made you put on a straw sunhat to protect your skin from its reys. He treated you so well. 

Ben makes a kissy face, and you oblige, rewarding him for finding you your snack. His mouth tasted sweet, only then do you realize he took a bite already and you can’t help but laugh adoringly. You take a bite of the peach as Ben still hung from the tree, swinging as he gripped the branch, and come to him again, sliding the bite into his mouth for him to eat. You can feel him smile, chewing the peach and you pepper his face with kisses. 

It wasn’t long before he was pulling you up onto the tree, helping you climb up and up. Everything was so beautiful where you sat. Ben kisses you deeper here.

“Fish ain’t the only one that can be romantic as shit.” He mutters against your mouth and you get the feeling he was jealous. Francisco must have told him what you did the last couple days with him, making love in the meadow and yes, it was romantic, but you didn’t expect Ben to be Francisco. All of them loved you in their own ways, with their own expressions.

“He certainly isn’t, my handsome husband.” You kiss back, sighing as he touches your thigh. There was no way to fuck up here, but Ben still brought you to orgasm with his fingers. He had told you not to wear panties.

He picks another peach, pulling his hard cock out as you kick your legs, smiling, your dress rustling in a breeze. You’d noticed the breeze picked up as Ben got turned on. You watch in aw as he fingers the peach open, eyes intently on you. He’s obscene, groaning as if he’s pleasuring himself until he creates a hole, and then…

“Eyes on my cock, peach.”

And god, are your eyes on his cock. Benny has the prettiest dick in your humble opinion. It was long and thick like they all were. Ben was cut, his manhood always throbbing and the prettiest golden color and a vein on the underside. You loved looking at it. Ben fucked himself with the peach, up and down on the shaft with the most levacious squelches coming out only to the harmonized by Ben’s moans and whimpers. His eyes closed, lost in pleasure and he jerked off.

“F-fuck…” Ben mumble, chest heaving as he rests against the trunk. “Fuck man, feels so fucking good.” His hip bucked, makin the branch you were on shake and you had to grab one above for stability but fuck, you couldn’t stop watching him. He was incredible, sculped body creating a divine figure in your midst and you were so blessed to be filled by him. His blue eyes flashed open only to roll back into his head, spurting cum all over his hand and the peach. You nearly came again from the sight and sound alone. You loved how he looked in orgasmic bliss, it didn’t matter who caused it, you, Francisco or Pope, you just wanted to see him when it happened.

You ate the cum stained peach directly from his hand.

*

You got the idea from Iris, really. Sitting on the counter of the kitchen, you were busy with some cross stitching you wanted to give to Francisco. It was a simple scene, nothing complex as your dormitory focused of useful skills like fieldwork, cooking, animal care. Still, you knew how to sew and although you’d asked, sometimes even begged Iris to let you help with housework, she didn’t trust you with much outside of cooking, which you were good at. You wished she didn’t treat you like a child. Still, you happily worked on the nature scenary for you husband, god of nature. How lucky you were. You noticed how much he liked smoking marijuana.

Reyansh was inside for a refreshment while working outside. He was creating a flower bed for you at Francisco’s request, and his neck was hurting so Iris rubbed his neck. Reynash sighed contently, his soft face smiling at the touch of who very clearly, you see now, was his lover.

 Iris was gentle for no one. She brushed off every attempt Jonah made to talk about anything none work related, and it hadn’t endeared her to you much. You didn’t think that bothered her, it didn’t seem she was too fond of you either. It wasn’t a rivalry and you didn’t have a problem with her. In fact, you liked her. She was beautiful, she made good food and she had been there when it was necessary, like having a panic attack. Even in the small things, she fed you well and had your safety in mind. Today, for example, she told you to put on sunscreen before you went outside to sunbathe while Rey built the flowerbed and doubled with babysitting you. That’s what you called it. Still, she didn’t talk to you, and didn’t seem like she wanted to be your friend.

You liked Reyansh a lot, he was kind, gentle, and thoughtful. Iris took care of Reyansh, and that made you happy. You liked seeing Reyansh smile, he had a nice smile. Iris never smiled unless it was at Reyansh and even then it seemed subdued. Jonah smirked at best, and that was usually mixed with an eye roll.

Pope had bad knees. He called it his stigmata, the physical manifestation of the sufering he bared for the people of Delta. He took the brunt of your sins and wasn’t that so good of him? You wondered if you could alleviate some of that pain, seeing as much of it was probably caused by the sins of your father.

“Rey?” You ask from your chair, watching him plant seeds for marigolds. You loved marigolds; they reminded you of Ben, all sunshine and gold.

He turns around over his should, a bright smile on his face. He seemed happier with plant or animals. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Will keeps his healing oils?”

Reyansh laughs and its brighter than the midday sun. He turns around, sitting his ass on the dirt and props himself up on his hands. “What are you planning?”

*

“SHHHHHHH” Reyansh shushes you, but he’s giggling himself.

You and him were breaking into Will’s room while he was out. Well, not so much breaking as Rey got the master key but still, naughty. You loved Will’s room, you wanted to stay here all the time. It was simple, but not uncomfortable. You both had to be careful, not digging too much into his things as to not get in trouble… but then you found them.

You took lavender, rose, peppermint and oregano. You knew a little about healing oils, but Will’s were special having been blessed by his hands. This had to help Pope’s aches… now, you must get an audience with Pope, and he was not pleased with you.

*

“I’m busy.” Pope called from his office, ignoring your plea’s to spend time with you. You missed him so, so much. You missed his intensity, the warmth in the gaze, the fire and passion in his eyes. You feel his love for you, his husbands, his community. Who else was to bare the pain he did for his people? He was good, so good.

“Pope, please?” Your voice cracks, leaning against the wood of his door. “Please just ten minutes?”

“I’ll be with you tonight with Francisco.” To breed you, but you didn’t just want to be fucked by him, you wanted to be loved.

“I want to spend time with you, please? I have a surprise. I just… I miss you.”

Silence… then the door unlocking. He stood in front of you, brown eyes ablaze with irritation but also curiosity.

Once securing his attention, you were able to get Pope to follow you to the room you had set up. In it, a chair and a bucket of steaming, sudsy water.

“Sit! Sit!” You beckon him to the chair, and although hesitant he sits down. You take your place where you belong, at the feet of your God.

Knelt before him and gazing up into his eyes, you untie his shoes and slide off his socks, pleasantly surprised by the lack of smell. He’d been inside all day. After rolling up his pants, you take his feet, one by one and lower them into the steaming water and watch in delight ashe closes his eyes, moaning and hanging his head back. He looked relaxed, actually, something you only see in post orgasmic bliss.

You don’t take your eyes off him, massaging into the arch of his foot and enjoying the look of pleasure on his face. You’d doused the water preemptively with lavender and rose oils and you were happy to see it working in calming him.

“Mmmmm” Pope moans, a hardening bulge between his spread legs and you smile at the effect you have on him, the evidence of the love he still held for you. You hoped this act of washing his feet and massaging the joints would prove your subservience to him, your devotion.

Leaning in, you kiss the ball of his foot first as he opens his eyes, firey and alight with lust and love for you, his Madonna, his wife, his goddess. Pope’s mouth pops open, slightly agape as his chest begins to heave, eroticism  clouding his face. Pope angls his foot, pressing his toes to your lips and you don’t hesitate to open, completely and fully in his control. You would debase yourself however he asked, just for him. He was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. You’d adored him your whole life, worshiping him in prayer halls for as long as you could remember. He’d been the light of your life, your God, and although you were 11 when Divine Mother announced Pope was not the savior, it didn’t matter to you. He was your savior, he was your everything, and oh, how blessed you were to be here.

You make your jaw slack, allowing him access of as much of your mouth as possible, laving your tongue out against the calloused skin. Reaching to the side, you grab the peppermint-oregano mix of healing oils and poured some on his leg. As you gagged on him, sucking on his toes, you rubbed down his legs. Pope groans in pleasure, taking out his erection to stroke himself to the wet sounds of  your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him, so desperate try to please him, to regain his favor so you can be impregnated by his seed, the seeds of his brothers. You wanted so desperately to be his Madonna again, his holy mother, his little flower, it didn’t matter what it took.

He could cut open your chest and carve your heart out if it meant he held the dying pulse in his hands.

“Get over here” He grunts, pulling his feet out of you mouth with a pop. You chase after him, worried you’d done something wrong, but Pope grabs your dress, yanking you  forward harshly and into a crash of a kiss. The action knocks over the warm bucket of water, but he didn’t care. Pushing you down and into the spilt water, Pope turns you over and climbs on top of you, rucking your wet skirt over your ass. He didn’t bother taking off your underwear simply pulling it aside in order to thrust directly into you.

You were wet, you were always so, so wet with him. Being in his presence had always left you soaked and needy when he didn’t give you what you wanted. Sometimes you found yourself going to Will for his mouth to give you what Pope wouldn’t. 

“My beautiful, sweet Madonna” He mutters, his bearded cheek scratching against yours. “Always so ready for me, such a good fucking girl.” His thrusts are harsh, your face sliding against the floor with the spilt water, your dripping hair splattered all about the tile. The smell was overwhelming and you realize Will’s oils were spilled, mixing into the water and stirred with the movement of your connected bodies.

Everything was so, so much from the smells of the oils to the stretch of his cock, the pounding, pounding, pounding in your womb.

It was the same pounding you felt that night when, for the first time in a long time, you were fucked and pleasured and devoured and worshipped by all four of your husbands.

You were raw, aching, sweating and throbbing; 3 men’s cum had flooded your womb and Will’s was soon to follow. It was good, so, so good. Your body, despite the exhaustion was floating on your soft bed. The group sex had happened in your room, which was a rarity but something that in this moment made you feel like home. This was special, this was different. Will’s grunts were loud, powerful, his strong and naked body forbaring before you where he knelt. Muscles flexing and shifting and moving, his sweaty form and dripping hair complimenting his presence, the size reflected in the bulge of your stomach in every inward thrust. He had to be this stunning if he were to distract you from the scene beside you.

Ben, Francisco and Santiago and spent and drained, were entangled next to you in a sweat and lust-fill affair of their own. Francisco was the center focus, his body worshiped and adored by Pope and Ben. It seemed like a tug of war, like Francisco was the rope in a tug of war. It was clear that Francisco was precious to both of them, but there was another air about it all. The fight for Francisco’s sweet kisses was just the battle ground. Francisco himself had gotten hard all over again, Ben’s hands jerking him of from where he lay, their two body’s and coloring a contrast of dark and light, hard and soft, and electric energy so, so close to Pope’s explosives. 

Pope would not be out done by the younger man. This was his community, he was the leader, he was son of the Divine Mother and he would not relinquish his most favored lover to a boy 8 years his junior. Ben had ambition, he had wants and visions of a future that Santiago would not acquiesce to and although Benjamin’s loyalty was strong, so was his jealousy.

Two could play at jealousy, and Francisco was his. Playing with Frankie’s balls, heavy but starting to tighten as his perfect body writhed to the sounds of the Madonna’s pleasure, Santiago gripped Ben’s locks and yanked him down. He took control of Frankie’s mouth, lips still swollen from their previous encounter evidence of who his lips belonged too. He sucked on him until the healing lip cracked open again. If Francisco bled, his blood was Pope’s. 

He hears you cry out in the way you only do when you’re coming, and Ben latches onto Francisco’s nipple, determined to make him cum again. Pope loved his brothers, loved them all, they were the center of his world, his everything, his rocks. He’d had all of them in every way imaginable, fucked into every hole at every angle but god, nothing compared to Frankie. Ben must’ve felt that too, the way he took care of him. Together, as a team, they gave Francisco his second orgasm.

Something was different today. Something changed.

They all slept in her bed that night.

WHAT DO WE THINK For The Wrong Way readers, did you catch the reference? it was small.

also last chapter i asked whose the worst and someone said jonah i just wanna talk LMFAOOOO but i laughed bc its OVERWHELMINGLY santi. like 80%

Poll of the day

who knocks up madonna? not who you WANT that'll be a new poll, but who you think does it. listing all potential options.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS and whyyyyy

If you are into c.ai, check out the Jonah ai on the masterlist

Also, hope you check out the playlist! if you like old music like me especially. lots of 60's-80's

apoligies to everyone whose been tagging me in tag games. i appiciate the tags a lot, im just like....... ahhhhhhh you know? life. i love yall for including me though! If you have discourd and wantto join a server for my works, dm me! as long as you are an active particpant in the fics you're welcome!

IF YOU LIKE CULT FICS READ THIS ONE BY @noxturnalpascal with cult leader joel!!!!! I havnt had the chance to read a full chapter by i read most of the first chapter and its soooo good.

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[xdaddysprincessxx]

Pieces of Him

Cult leader Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Dead Dove! Horror! 18+ only! Ritualistic cannibalism, angst, death, blood, cameo from Ezra, made up religion, betrayal, infidelity, p in v, non/dub con (heavier on the non but added dub just to cover my bases), oral (f receiving), squirting, pregnancy/breeding (they literally just had sex so no actual fetus, Joel is just delulu) reader can be picked up, and oh yea Joel is out of his damn mind, pretty sure that’s it. Not beta’d, lightly edited, all mistakes are my own! Moodboard made by me(:

Joel was a young man when he married the love of his life. High school sweethearts. They were only twenty one when Laura got pregnant. Joel immediately got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. The two had a cozy little house on a few acres, about an hour outside of town. When Laura went into labor, Joel about fainted. He was terrified of becoming a dad, he wanted his girl to have better than he ever did. Unfortunately right after Laura pushed little Sarah out into the world, things took a turn for the worst. She lost a lot of blood and kept losing blood. The doctors took Sarah and pushed Joel out of the room trying to save her. He’ll never forget how cold that hospital waiting room was when the drs finally came out and told him Laura had passed. The loss of his wife took a toll on Joel. Not only did he lose his best friend and wife, he had to raise a newborn on his own. Thankfully he had his brother, Tommy, who helped out a ton with Sarah. But life was not kind to Joel Miller. Twelve years. He got twelve years with his Sarah before the day his sweet girl got struck by a drunk driver and killed. He became a shell of a man, void of all emotion and life. That was until he met a very charming man one day.

Ezra was a gypsy of sorts. Never staying in one place, always on the move. And spreading this gospel about this amazing creator and all the good things he does and can do for you if you please him. Joel met him when Ezra was walking past his house. He happened to be outside when Ezra spotted him. Joel didn’t even notice him until he was already standing next to him as Joel looked out over his big yard, depressed because there should be kids out there playing. Sarah should be out there, running around, while him and Laura cook dinner on the grill. When Joel did notice the stranger standing next to him, he tried telling him he didn’t want whatever he was trying to sell. Joels efforts to shake the man went unnoticed as Ezra rambled on and on. Not too long into the conversation, Ezra told Joel about The Children of Ares. Not like any religion Joel’s ever heard of, he was intrigued. Ezra promised eternal life, salvation. A guarantee Joel will be reunited with Sarah and Laura. There was a small group in town who also followed the same practice. Not long after meeting Ezra, Joel went to a meeting in town and soon found himself deeply immersed in this religion.

Fast forward ten years, Joel is now a high priest in The Children of Ares. It’s grown a lot since he’s joined. And even more so since he’s taken this position of power.

💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️

Strolling down the main street on a Friday night, you, your boyfriend and your three friends are all laughing and joking enjoying the brisk fall night. Halloween decorations line the store shop windows, there’s orange and black fairy lights strung up along the sidewalk, going from post to post. On the corner in front of you is the towns crack head spewing his usual nonsense about “the masked freaks who eat people out in the woods”. You’ve never paid him any mind but for some reason his words have you on edge.

“Hey Steve why don’t you go hit the crack pipe again and shut the fuck up!” Your boyfriend, Liam, yells to the man.

Steve narrows his beady eyes at your group, “You’ll regret that boy. The big man is coming. He’s gonna get you and there wont be a lick of you remaining.”

The unease of his words pours over your body and you don’t notice the man standing there, waiting to cross the street when you bump into him.

“Oh oh I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?” You quickly say as you bounce off of the man you bumped into. Not only is he tall, he’s practically a human wall. The man turns and looks at you, at first with a scowl on his face. But once he gets an eye full of who bumped into him, he quickly replaces the scowl with a smile.

“Oh it’s no problem honey, shit happens,” he says with a chuckle, “I bump into things all the time. Joel. Joel Miller” He says to you with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he reaches out his hand for you to shake.

Smiling, you shake his hand and tell him your name. You can’t help but notice how handsome he is. The salt and pepper hair, scruffy facial hair, that smile and those eyes! Not to mention his body! For an older man, he is jacked. You can just tell through his jacket he’s got thick biceps and these meaty thighs. You envision a soft tummy under those clothes. You can’t help but get lost in thought as you stare at the older man.

Joel notices you just staring and let’s out a little chuckle, “Well hey I’m apart of this little group. We’re having a bonfire tonight if you and your friends wanna swing by. There’ll be drinks, food, the works. Here have my card, I can text you the address if you want.”

“Oh yea for sure! That sounds fun!” You say over enthusiastically as you take the card from him and pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to type his number in and send a text. Right after you hit send, his phone dings

“That’s me! Just text the address and we’ll be there!” You give him a big smile as he smiles back at you before nodding his head and giving you a little wave.

Your friends were a little ahead of you, waiting for you to catch up.

“Ooohh someone’s gotta crush!” Your friend Aaliyah said in a singsong voice. The twins, Salem and Violet, standing next to her giggling, covering their laughs behind their hands.

“Oh shut up I bumped into him and he invited us to a bonfire. Besides I already have my handsome, wonderful boyfriend right here.” You say as you look at Liam, sliding your arm around him, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. Liam snuggles up to your side but keeps his eyes trained on Aaliyah with a shit eating grin on his face.

Scrunching your face up in confusion you look where he’s looking and the unease gets worse. You stand there watching the two have this little flirty stare off.

“Come on guys let’s go check this thing out. It’ll be fun.” You say to break up the tension you now feel between your boyfriend and friend.

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You, Liam, Aaliyah, and the twins all piled into Liam’s truck as you made your way to the bonfire. Joel lives out in the middle of nowhere. After driving for awhile with nothing but corn fields and woods as far as the eye can see, you notice a bright orange flame off in the distance. That must be the bonfire.

Soon you pulled up and turned onto crunchy gravel driveway after traveling on a dirt road for a good portion of the trip. Joel has a nice one story house with a huge yard. The bonfire is behind the house, off a good distance, closer to the tree line but not close enough to accidentally set the woods on fire. There are several cars in the driveway, Liam parked his truck in the grass beside the driveway. As you and your friends got out of the truck, you stood there looking up at the night sky. You could see all the stars and the moon. It was very peaceful, a nice reprieve from the horrible gut feeling you’ve had.

“Hey! You guys just get here?” Some guy yells at you as he walks towards you from the bonfire.

“Yea! We were invited by Joel!” You yelled back

“Well come on back new friends of Joel’s.” He says back with a smile.

You smile back as you walk around the truck to join your boyfriend and go to grab his hand. Except he pulls his hand away without looking at you and follows the guy to the bonfire. Your group walks in silence, music fills the air. You end up in the back of the group, following in silence, feeling left out like everyone is in on this inside joke and they’re all laughing at you but you don’t know why.

Just as your passing the deck attached to the back of the house, you feel a hand grab your arm making you jump, forcing you from your thoughts.

“Hey darlin. It’s good to see ya came.” Joel says in a low baritone voice. Seeing the older man’s face and hearing his voice is already lifting your spirits. And awakening something else within you, between your thighs.

“I’m glad I came too. It’s good to see you again.” You get out breathlessly with a giggle. You literally sound like a love stricken school girl. You have got to get a grip on yourself.

“If ya want something to drink or anything, my door is open darlin. Help yourself to whatever alright?”

Nodding your head yes, a comfortable silence between you two as you share a smile before heading towards the fire.

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Sitting around the bonfire, you laughed and joked with all the others that are there. Joel almost hardly ever left your side, even going as far as putting his arm around you. In a friendly way of course, but your pussy didn’t see it that way. Whenever his big, meaty hands touched you, your body would heat up almost as if he lit a fire on whatever part of your body he touched. Your friends keeping more to themselves, acting stuck up almost. It makes you feel bad you dragged them out there. You didn’t want them to ruin your newly made friends’ night. At one point you looked over and saw Liam and Aaliyah sneak off toward the trees. That bad gut feeling rearing it’s ugly head, as strong as ever. Joel had gone somewhere, so you got up from your seat and followed them as unsuspiciously as you could. Just before you reached the tree line you could see your boyfriend and friend standing there, kissing. Nausea hit you like a truck, the world around you spinning. Your heart dropped out of your ass. You couldn’t believe what your seeing. How could they? But also this is making everything make sense. No wonder Aaliyah always seemed jealous of your relationship. No wonder Liam’s been acting more distant lately. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you turn around and walk all the way back to Joel’s house.

Walking in through his back door, your head hanging down you don’t notice the scowling old man standing on the other side of the sliding door until your shoulder bumps into him.

“Oh! Oh Joel I-I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t m-me. . “

“Darlin don’t you say sorry again. You ain’t do nothing wrong,” he says as his hand reaches out to cup your face, “I saw what happened honey. If anyone’s sorry it’s those two. You don’t deserve that. Not one bit.” His thumb slowly caressing your check as he swipes away a stray tear. You reach up and grab onto his wrist of the hand holding your face. Joel moves closer to you as you look deep into his eyes. Slowly you inch closer to his face, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes before bridging the gap and bringing your lips to his. His lips press back against yours, feeling plush and warm. Lighting up every nerve in your body. You feel him breathe in deep through his nose as he begins to kiss you back harder. You break the kiss just to press your lips back against his, repeating the action several times. The two of you just kissing each other before you pull back and stare up at him with wide eyes,

“J-Joel I- I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry, you don’t want me I-“

“What did I tell you, darlin? Stop saying sorry. And don’t you dare say I don’t want you. I’ve been dying to have a taste of those pretty lips since we first ran into each other.” Joel’s hand that’s still cupping your face slides down to your chin as he grips your face between his thumb and fore finger and brings your face back to his. His lips bruise yours as he kisses you deeply, parting your lips with his tongue as he begins to slowly lick into your mouth. You gladly open up and let him in, softly moaning into the kiss, and you enter your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues twirling around each other before you suck his tongue, causing him to growl. His other hand grabs the back of your head, smashing your face even more into his. His aquiline nose smashed into the side of your nose as you continued to passionately kiss Joel. Your hands wrapped around his thick torso, holding him tightly to you, your hands gripping his flannel. Joel bends at the knee as his hands grip the backs of your thighs and hoists you up. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you further into his home. You bury your face in his neck and start to lightly suck on his neck causing him to let out this deep growl as his grip tightens. Soon he’s tossing you like a rag doll and your back hits a soft bed. Wasting no time Joel leans over you and begins to take your pants off. You lift your hips to help him and begin to pull your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Now only clad in your bra and panties, Joel just stares at you with dark eyes as he looks you up and down. Devouring every curve of you with his eyes alone.

“Tell me you want this darlin. I gotta hear those words. I gotta hear you say you want this before we go any further.” Joel says as he goes to grab your chin and pull you towards him.

“I want this. I want you Joel. Please.” You beg. Eyes blown wide open as you drink in the sight of this beautiful man in front of you.

Joel wastes no more time and begins to pull his shirt up over his head before unbuckling his pants and quickly getting rid of them. He crawls up the bed, hovering over you before lowering himself. His plush lips meet yours as he kisses you deeply. Your hands raise up to cup his face as he wraps an arm around your shoulders as his other arm reaches down and pulls your leg up on his hip. The two of slowly grinding your bodies into each other, tongues conversing with one another. The heat from his body lighting your body up like the Fourth of July. The hand on your leg moves in between your bodies as Joel finds your sweet wet haven and rubs your slit up and down causing your slick to leave an even bigger damp spot on your panties. Every touch, kiss, grind has you so wound tight. He pushes your panties aside and dips a finger in, gathering your wetness before trailing up to your clit, going in soft circles.

His light touch has you gasping into his mouth. Joel just smiles as he kisses you one more time before moving down to your neck. Wet, open mouthed kisses leaving a trail down your neck, to your collarbone, in between your breasts. He makes his way slowly kissing down your stomach, Joel looks up and sees you staring back at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes staring back at you, you swear he can see your soul. His hands tug on your panties and begin to peel them off of you. Once removed, Joel’s big hands land on your inner thighs as he spreads you even wider as he admires your body.

“So fucking pretty baby. This for me?” He asked as he dips a thick finger in your entrance. Moaning and shaking your head yes, just barely hanging on.

Chuckling, “This sweet little slice of heaven belongs to me now honey,” he says before dipping his head down and giving your clit a couple kitten licks. His hand travels up your body and cups your breast, squeezing, before he pinch’s your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“It’s yours Joel. I’m yours oh god I’m yours” your head thrown back as you babble incoherently. Joel smiles into your pussy before his tongue is back, licking wide stripes up your cunt before finding your clit and giving her a few sweet kisses before he closes his lips around the button and sucks. His hand still on your breast rotating between squeezing and rolling your nipple while his other hand has snaked its way to your cunt. Two thick fingers curled up in you have you gasping for air. His mouth and hands alone have already brought you close to the brink of tears. Never feeling ecstasy as good as this before. His fingers find rhythm curling up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you. His sweet mouth never letting up on its assault on your clit.

“R-rrright there!! Oh god right there don’t stop oh fuck please don’t stop j-Joel oh Joel!!!” You start to scream his name as he brings you to the ultimate euphoria. Your cunt spasming as you squirt all over his beautiful face. You grab onto his curls and try to move his head as he continues to lick and suck on you. Barely able to even catch your breath, your cunt starting to hurt from the overstimulation from his mouth. Unable to move his head, you just grip his curls and hang on for dear life already on the brink of a second orgasm. His tongue and fingers are relentless never once letting up. Before you can even register what’s happening, your coming again. Squirt just dribbling out this time rather than shooting out at Joel. Your whole body shaking, boneless as he looks up at you. His face wet as he gives you this shit eating smile,

“That’s it baby give me every drop of your sweet essence.” He says as he admires your sore cunt before running his tongue through your folds one more time.

Joel sits back on his haunches as he grabs your hips and flips you over on your stomach, pulling your butt up slightly as he notched himself at your entrance.

“I think your sweet little pussy is ready for me now darlin. Whatcha think baby? Think she can handle me?” He says with a dark chuckle as he starts to feed you his cock inch by inch. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate his girthy length. Every little bit of his cock sliding along your walls has you quivering. The pace he’s going feels like forever before he hits home and buried his entire length inside you. His cock punches all the air from your lungs, all you can do is fist the sheets beneath you as your mouth drops opens in a quiet scream.

“Fuck she’s squeezing me so tight already honey. Poor baby hasn’t been fucked right, has she? Awe I don’t think she has. Needs daddy’s big cock to stretch her out how she likes huh? Yea she does.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. Your face smashed into the bed, all you can do is nod your head. His filthy mouth has you ready to beg for more. Ready to beg him to fuck you hard. Too see you so pliant and ready to take whatever he gives you has Joel’s eyes rolling back as he pulls out until the tip is left before pushing back in with a quick thrust. He finds his pace with ease, giving you hard, unrelenting thrusts that push you up on the bed as you try your hardest to push back, wanting to fuck yourself back on his cock. But all you can do is lay there and take him. Joel leans down, his chest covering your back as he bites down on your shoulder. You moan loudly as your head lifts off the bed, tilting back. His hands find yours, his fingers interlocking with yours as you continue to grip the sheets. His pace slowed ever so slightly so you feel every thrust, every vein, every inch go in and back out. You swear you might black out from how delicious his cock feels deep inside you. Feeling fuller than you ever have,

“Jj- joooeeeeelllll nngh I-I’m gonna - oh. I-I’m gonna cum daddy fuuuckk oh please don’t stop!” You manage to get out as you move your head to the side, managing a whisper in his ear. Joel moves his face from your shoulder to your face and does his best to kiss you. It’s rather sloppy as you both go to lick into each others mouth, only to barely make it in, getting the sides of each others mouths more.

“Oh good baby good. Give daddy what he wants. Let me feel this sweet fuckin cunt cum all over me. That’s it, that’s fucking it sweet girl oh fuck I can feel her baby I can feel her coming nngh oh.” He moans into your ear as you hit your third orgasm of the night. Your whole body seizes up and you begin to come, your cunt milking his cock for all its worth. Judging by the grunts coming from Joel he’s close too. His thrusts become sloppy before you feel him thrust all the way in and begin pulsing. His thick load coating your walls, you swear you feel him in your womb. He stays inside you for awhile after, resting his head on your back as you both catch your breath and come down from your highs.

He pulls out and moves to lay next to you, helping you to roll on your side. He wraps you up in his blanket before holding you tight to his chest. You bury your face in his chest, taking a deep breath in. His woodsy, musk scent filling your nostrils. Your so spent, sleep finds it’s way to you with ease. The both of you holding onto each other, you eyes finally shut as you drift off to sleep.

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You roll over, trying to find warmth as you start to open your eyes. All too soon it hits you, you slept with the older man you had just met. Joel. You’re still in his bed but he’s gone. Your friends!! The bonfire! You sit up quickly before the memories of what you saw flood back into your consciousness. Fuck Liam and Aaliyah. How dare they betray you like that? You climb out of Joel’s bed and grab a red flannel off the ground and pull it on. The shirt covering what you need it to cover as you button it up a little bit, leaving the top four buttons undone. You decide to go out and find Joel, bring him back to bed. As you walk into the kitchen, you look out the window above the sink and make out the bonfire is still going strong. The clock on the wall reads 3am on the dot. Curious you open the sliding patio door and step outside, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. You keep on walking towards the bonfire. As you get closer, it seems like everyone’s gone. Suddenly you notice a robe swishing behind a tree, you decide to follow. Walking into the woods, it doesn’t take long before you find everyone. The sight makes you stop in your tracks. Everyone’s backs are to you, all dressed in white robes with these masks covering the top half of their faces. The bonfire still close enough to give you enough light to notice red. The sleeves and bottoms of the white robes are covered in red and they’re all eating? What looks like red, raw meat in their hands, feasting as if they were animals. You move to go back to the house when your foot hits something and you look down and notice a severed arm. You gasp loudly, putting your hand over your mouth. Jumping back in fright, you hit a solid wall. Turning around, you find Joel.

“What are you doing out here darlin? You aren’t meant to see this. Not right now. Not good for the baby.”

Terrified and absolutely confused by what he meant by that you start to back up.

“I-I Joel please. I-I’m sorry I didn’t know I-“ swinging your head around, everyone has now stopped and are looking your way. An endless sea of blank white masks staring at you. You can see the pile of bodies they were circled around. You make out Liam’s head laying next to a pile of intestines. Human flesh hanging in their hands as they’ve all come to a stop. Your eyes wide in horror as you realize those were your friends. Their bodies laying on the cold hard ground, filleted wide open. Severed body parts scattered about. They were eating them. Actually eating their lifeless bodies.

You turn back to Joel before you trip and fall on your ass. You start to slowly crawl backwards, away from him.

Slowly getting down on his knees before getting into a crawl position, “Now don’t do something stupid honey. It’s okay. I built this community for us. For you. I’ve been waiting for the day my queen came home to me. This is our kingdom to rule.” He says in a low, gravelly voice as he begins to crawl towards you. A terrifying predator coming for his prey. You do your best to crawl backwards while still facing him but he reaches out and grabs your ankle, pulling you toward him.

Thrashing your leg, trying to get out of his hold, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Joel please! Let me go! I won’t tell anyone just let me go!” You try to beg, hoping he’ll take mercy on you as you grab onto the leg he has a hold off and try your hardest to yank back out of his grasp.

Joel just smirks at you as he climbs on top of you. His hands grab both of yours and holds them together, pinned to the ground.

“Don’t you see? I did all of this for you baby. I gave you a beautiful home, a community of people who love you. Why can’t you see that? Those others only hurt you, betrayed you. I love you darlin. Always have. I need ya to calm down now honey this is for your own good.” He tells you as you continue to struggle to get out of his grip. He manages to grip both of your hands in one of his as he brings his hand to his mouth. He bites into the fatty part of his hand, drawling blood. He shoves the bleeding hand into your open mouth. The metallic taste hitting your tongue, making you gag.

“Stop it! Stop moving dammit! This is for your own good! You need me! You need my life essence baby! The baby needs it! Take it!” He shouts at you as he continues to shove his hand into your mouth. Unable to get out of his grip or close your mouth, you finally give in and stop moving, letting his blood flood your mouth. Tears stream down your face as you realize you aren’t getting away from this. From him. He’s convinced you’re with child even though it’s only been hours since you’ve had sex. It’s literally impossible for that. Yet he sure thinks so. And on top of that, he’s convinced you belong to him and you need his blood and then there’s the fucking human eating monsters behind you. You aren’t getting out of this alive. Playing along is the only option you have.

“That’s it baby there’s my good girl. I love you darlin. Don’t you love me?” He asks as he removes his hand.

“I love you Joel. I’m so sorry.” You whimper out, only audible enough for him to hear. Joel leans down and captures your bloody lips with his. Kissing you deeply, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. You kiss back, not really having any other choice but to kiss him back.

Joel’s free hand moves down to your cunt, dipping a bloody finger in between your folds, giving you a couple quick rubs on your clit before removing his hand to pull himself out of his pants. His leg nudges your leg to open more as he swipes his cock through your used pussy. After a few swipes, Joel starts to push into you. You’re just wet enough for it to not hurt too bad but it feels so much more intense than last time. The stretch really burns as he continues to push into you. Pinned down on the ground, all you can do is take him. Having been completely occupied by Joel, you had temporarily forgotten about your audience. That’s when you notice a low hum of voices surrounding you. You break the kiss and look to the side and see masked people surrounding you two chanting something in a language you’ve never heard before. Next thing you know, they all get down on their knees, arms extended in front of them, bowing towards you and Joel.

“Eyes on me darlin. It’s okay, you’ll know soon enough what’s happening. It’s a good thing baby. Ffuck oh honey I love you so much. My sweet girl. M-my beautiful Queen, that’s it, take daddy’s cock nngh” Joel tells you as he grunts, bottoming out inside of you again and again.

You can’t help but to grunt as he continues to thrust deep in you. You’re barely able to comprehend anything that’s happened nor the fact you have an audience who also happen to be bowing down and chanting. You are well and throughly screwed.

~Fin~

A/n: I’ve had this idea for awhile, wrote some of it, had a creative slump and had a visit from the horny monster today and wa- la! I hope y’all enjoy this! I love you all and appreciate all the feedback!♥️♥️

Tagging some moots(: - @bonezone44 @multiversed-daydreamer @toxicanonymity @lumoverheaven @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beefrobeefcal @josephquinnswhore @juletheghoul let me know if you want me to untag you!

[captainjacklyn]

@Silverbard22 Special Birthday Occasion !

A/N : Happy birthday my friend ! Congratulations on being today years old, as my (late late late late LATE! really sorry about that) gift for you I'll be writing this headcanon with every character from Mondstadt to Sumeru celebrating your birthday ! And fun fact, you were born on the same day as my old cat ! (his name was 'little steps' and he passed away four years ago because he was old but now I have two new troublemakers to destroy my sleep)

Warning(s) : some bombs from klee, a lot of cake but idk if that's even some kind of warning, mostly fluff, it's kind of Sagau if you squint a little.

MONDSTADT

The moment Jean was informed she got a multitude of knights just getting the entire city ready for a huge celebration, at this point, it's a national holiday. She patrols around to check if everything is in it's rightful place, if anyone dares to sabotage or disrupt such an occasion they will get beheaded. Amber and Eula follow after their senior, wishing you the best when they see you, since the beautiful Lawrence maiden understands how important this day is for you she'll perform a wonderful dance for you.

The church also prepared a wonderful original song for you, and it was all thanks to Barbara and Venti (who was also the one that announced your date of birth) even if it doesn't match their usual tunes they will gladly change their genre just for you to enjoy their singing. It's kind of hard to imagine priests singing black metal but they'll do their best in doing it for you.

Diluc pretended not to care but the Dawn Winery had also been cleaned and decorated to the brim. Everything on the menu is just foods you enjoy, all that you dislike is BANNED from this place, they take your approval seriously and I mean it. When you come in, he has everything ready and perhaps even a huge gift. Though much to his dismay, Kaeya will tease him for it (not like he didn't plan grandiose things just to see your smile). Speaking of teasing, he starts to poke a multitude of pickup lines at you.

There is music, there is presents and decoration..what else are we missing? Oh wait who's the clown for this party-

I'm kidding I'm kidding Lisa is the magician, I know that her stans are out there to get me rn. Besides, the lady has a friendly, albeit a little explosive, assistant named Klee...And Albedo because we need a sane being around these two chaos inducing people. And don't think I forgot about the gifts- those are everywhere, they offer you presents all the time but they've out done themselves just for your special day.

All thanks to Sucrose who was more than overjoyed to be the one to get the honor of creating your main bestowal. Let's not forget Benny's Adventure team who crashed in halfway to celebrate alongside you. Bennett, Razor and Fischl ran like tornadoes to offer their own blessings, Rosaria pretended that she wasn't looking forward to give her own birthday wishes. But we can all see how happy your smile makes her the moment you thank her for coming.

LIYUE

Oh you are so spoiled for this one. Ningguang quite literally built a new jade chamber just for your birthday celebration and Ganyu worked faster than the speed of light just to get to spend some quality time with you, Keqing is no different with so much dedication nothing is stopping her now (her pen broke as she practically printed down files of tasks). No one has seen them more desperate than scaramouche wanting to become a god BUT that's just because she wants to spend as much time with you during these special hours, it's not everyday that your favorite person turns [age] years old !

Beidou doesn't seem like the type to throw a fuss during these occasions. And she isn't, you're absolutely correct, however she will bring you to any place around the ocean to go sight seeing and have her crew throw a party all evening. In addition to this wonderful proposal we got Hu Tao willing to unbury sixty dead people COUGH COUGH I MEANT INVITE I SWEAR GUYS DON'T ARREST ME-

Zhongli was also at the funeral parlor when his boss made preparations for your visit. He wanted to offer you a gift but with what money? so Childe had to take care of the presents instead. (Though he will go through the effort of offering you a dried glaze lily, accompanied with the marvelous yet oh so tragic meaning behind it, have fun falling asleep) Poof goes the northland bank money to the mountains of donations, his wallet is crying so many tears to the point where you'll need to name an entirely new river.

I swear if the river's name goes something like : 'spring valley view nice face' I say fuck that and call it 'broke stream' then we can get along. I just hope Xiao actually participates in your ceremony physically rather than alternatively placing a gift at your window and disappearing right after. It becomes a game for a while, just spend the whole day trying to find him to say thank you. He finds your tenacity so impressive but so confusing, why are you ripping both time and space HE'S HERE GOOD HEAVENS-

This goes for Shenhe too, be nice to her okay? it may not seem like it, but the young woman is trying very hard to please you, although it is evident that you truly enjoy her presence. Chongyun tagged along with his aunty, whilst Cloud Retainer would've been there, her bad habit of spilling the embarrassing memories of her beloved students made the graceful lady refuse the bird's company.

Have you ever seen Xiangling cook the worth of three buffets ? Well, now you have, she felt so ashamed for forgetting what you liked ! So she panicked and made every food known to their world, even those that didn't necessarily originate from Liyue.. I salute you, that much nutrition will probably be the end of it all. Xingqiu is no more after helping his good companion, winded and absolutely exhausted, I mean who cooks 149 recipes in FIVE HOURS?!

Honestly, I really jealous about the fact that YaoYao made you a custom plushy that resembled a mini you, she even added a small yellow bunny attached on the side as well as your birthday day sewed on it. Qiqi was the one with the responsibility to deliver it for her friend, of course Baizhu needed to remind her of doing so too. Speaking of that shady doctor, he hangs around you to make sure you stay healthy. Tho his coughing isn't really helping the process, he's trying to be of use. Let's not forget that Yelan most likely stole another fatui jacket just because she kinda...Forgot? I mean, she got the gift and she stylized it just to match your style...If only she knew it was Childe's present on its way to you.

INAZUMA

Boob sword, boob sword, boob sword- If that's what you want she'll whip out that weapon faster than lightning. get it? I'm such a loser. Ei turned your birthday into the new year festival, fireworks bigger than ever were organized thanks to Yoimiya. Look closely and you'll notice that the sparkling firecrackers spell out your name and create visuals of your favorite animal/food!

Itto is gonna bring you around town with his gang, if you want he can even carry you on his shoulders during the entire time he's showing you off with Shinobu by his side, his (unpaid) nanny who is continuously begging him to be careful. She smiles under her mask when she sees you laugh at their antics, but please don't encourage them too much, keeping them out of trouble is already hard enough.

Subsequently, you met up with Gorou and Kokomi who offered their heartfelt wishes, including an all out party with the army. Everyone was dancing, drinking and losing all of their remaining braincells..Thank goodness our gorgeous mermaid stopped you from consuming anything too strong..would've been as bad as taco bell- RING RING ! I have a delivery for the Birthday Star! Soft paws and double tails, it's none other than the speedy Nekomata, Kirara! Right on time as always for bringing a packet to the rightful owner.

The nice surprise ended up being a very cute gift box of many different delicacies along with...a birthday card from Yae Miko? Well, ain't that a new one. Seems like she gives you her sweet wishes and an opportunity to write a book with her. Gracious.

Smoke weed with the samurai Jk- Kazuha sends you a gush of wind with a bunch of leaves that end up spelling 'happy birthday' when they fall to the floor.

can he do that? It'd be fun if he could do that. He can do that.

Then you have the...Rich ones, I'll say it right off the bat, Ayaka and Ayato have prepared exactly everything from schedule to how many confetti will be thrown in your direction every minute of the day. Thomas is right behind them and he's cleaning up after said confetti, Poor guy. Someone help him...Yeah, definitely...Someone should.

... :)

Oh my archons is that? No way, La Signora's ashes flying all the way from Snezhnaya Kujou Sara what do we have here? A tiny figure of the raiden shogun, as a birthday gift? How adorable. Surely it'll be more eternal than a certain crimson witch HAHAHA- please don't kill me. This came from Sara's precious collectible collection so don't drop it. Ever.

SUMERU

Oh Nahida, she did say that your celebration shall be at least as grand as the Subzeruz Festival. So, don't be shy, let her pull you through and help you enjoy the sights! You wouldn't want to miss Nilou's pretty performance would you? Tighnari, Collei and most of the other forest rangers came along too! Now there's a table's worth of present for you, with very pretty mushrooms, some crafted trinkets, a flower bouquet that sprayed water in your face- CYNO! "What did one plate say to the other plate on their birthday?" "Cyno please-" "Lunch is on me."

"..."

"..."

"Good job, buddy. Good job."

If anyone makes me right down a joke like that again, I will kill myself. Luckily for you, Sethos swoops in to save you, maybe? All I know if that he's up for a new hairdo desert dweller style! But give him a second to catch his breath. He did drag hat guy all this way for a reason, surely it isn't because mister Wanderer thinks himself above wishing you a small happy birthday? No, he ain't that's why he's here, darling. Albeit a little against his will. His little auntie would've pushed him towards you anyways, he's a little shy, give him some time. *Cue the boss music.*

When Kaveh and Al Haitham finally arrive, they were willing to put their arguments to a pause and give you a well deserved happy birthday wish, including a long rant about how Al Haitham doesn't know shit about aesthetics and how Kaveh keeps losing his mother fucking keys- EHO WAIT A MINUTE! This isn't about you, *spray bottle* this is about [Name] so you better treat the birthday majesty, treat them well!

Oh! Dehya just arrived! Your very own bodyguard for the trip! She grants you protection as you make your way to Aaru village where Candace awaits. Birthday cake on a plate, and candles ready to place. You spend most of your time having fun with the people. And when the time for you to leave comes, Dehya thanks you as she brings you right back to Sumeru city. Where you encounter Dori at the entrance and she- Uh? Free gift? No there must be a catch, Dori doesn't give gifts! Ah right she wants to grant you a wish, which is technically a gift for as long as it isn't a lifetime of Mora...Cause that wouldn't work, no, no. Dori isn't a doner. "Happy birthday, [Name]-" "Could I have the Palace of Alcazarzaray?"

"...The what now?"

Well, guess that's everybody- Wait a damn minute where is Layla? Surely she isn't sleeping through your celebrations, the music is far too loud! Oh, never mind, there she is. Somehow awake and...She's with a gift, you now have your very own pocket astrolabe, I have no fucking clue how this thing works but you'll figure it out. I'm sure. And if not, well Miss faruzan is here to help, she'll also offer her own small toy for you. It's an assembly of a number of miniature puzzle mechanisms — you can find a button and lever here, as well as a roller to the side. I still have no clue on what and how, but it's the intention that counts.

Not me using her voice line to explain shit.

FLOWER CONFETTI ATTAAAACK-

FONTAINE

I do believe it was supposed to rain today, but monsieur Neuvillette did say that he would do something about it. Strange. Who could've thought he actually would- Wait no why is it starting, why do I feel sad, WHO DID THIS?!

It's okay now, Furina arrived just in time to distract him from the sadness. And! To remind him that a special someone was celebrating their special day today! Here's your ticket to 'Happy Day'! Don't make me spoil the surprise, there's a reason why it's called a surprise, don't you ask me what'll happen, don't you dare do it, don't-

She'll make sure you show up though since her dutiful Clorinde is never far away from you or Furina herself. She'll pop out of the blue, remind you of the time and disappear again, not before leaving a small birthday card at your feet. There is a letter along with...Mhm? Is that- a coupon for Furina's favorite bakery?!

You get to buy your own birthday cake! That sounds so sad but so good at the same time. And surprise, surprise! There's a surprise! From Sigewinne, Navia, Chiori, Chevreuse, Freminet, Emilie and Charlotte too! Even the whole of spina de rosula came along to celebrate before your attendance to 'Happy Day'! You receive a gorgeous outfit from Chiori, she insists that it was just an excuse to better your wardrobe but we all know she's looked forward to sewing something up for you, for a long time. Chevreuse's gift is a pile of the best selling Fontaine books, many of which are her personal favorite, but perhaps you'll take a liking to them too!

Charlotte got everyone to fit into the group picture, and with a snap! Collects the memory. She also gifts you your very own Kamera! Now even you can match her as a frenzied journalist! Just make sure you show her your future pictures, she'd love to collaborate on her next journal page! ft. [Name]'s photography.

Freminet was a little shy at first, but after a little encouragement from his siblings to face you without his helmet, you just had to gush over the Pers he gave you. He's more than glad you like it, though the way you seem so happy gets him a little embarrassed- And the helmet goes back on! Uh...

There's something tapping your leg, wait! The Melusines are all here! And they have lots of nice stickers! One here, and there, and everywhere! Sigewinne wanted you to spend time with as many friends as possible, though she regrets to say that Wriothesley couldn't come along, but he took the time to gift you an assortment of luxurious tea as well as a...Pair of...Boxing gloves? Oh well, better get to some sporty activities then. Fortunately for you, Emilie just created a new perfume made of your favorite scents that gets rid of any foul odor, and it's a limited edition [Name]-reserved product too!

Cue Lyney and his little magic trick, watch as he gives you a feather, observe how it pops and turns out to be a party popper. He grabs one of the floating paper streamers, drops it in the hat, imagine your gift, reach down and- Tada! Your very own mini Lyney the cat! And- What is this? His assistant, Lynette, takes the lead! She hands you a blank card, on it, write your wish before she places it in her own hat, gesturing you to reach within and- Tada! You now have a mini kitty Lynette! Wooo! Keep smiling, they don't have to know you imagined as well as wrote a thousand mora.

❤️🧡💛Happy Birthday💚🩵💙

[doing-something-unholy]

Ok, um. I might have gotten a little carried away and forgot to record audio, but if I tell you all about what I did does that make up for it?

I saw some Very Inspiring fanart about john from faith the unholy trinity, so I was imagining being a priest corrupted by an orgy of demons, forced to enjoy it and getting broken down by overstim.

Maybe a cult leader orchestrating the whole thing, forcing that priest to cum on his cock whether he likes it or not. Making him admit he's not so innocent, asking if he's ever touched himself before. Being able to tell I'm- he's lying when he says no, asking the priest to "just admit it, you've stuck your fingers in your cunt before, haven't you Father? Curled them to reach forbidden pleasure? Just admit that you're a slut. Maybe that's why you haven't cum yet, do you want more? How about I fuck your ass next, ever touched here? You want all your holes filled?"

Keeping up the degrading dirty talk and letting more demons fuck him until his mind and body breaks and he's helplessly cumming around all the cocks inside him, mind blank and making a mess of drool and cum <3

Feeling a bit shy about it so I'm putting it under a cut but also heres some details about what exactly I was doing <3

For starters, my vibe was almost dead 🙃 I wanted to use the remote controlled one to get warmed up but it died after 30 seconds. I still used it a bit longer, cause it's curved to hit my g-spot, just holding the part that's supposed to rest on my clit like a handle to fuck myself with it. But I wanted to get something bigger. So I just got straight to trying to work my favorite toy inside me <3 I was trying to get away with just using my own arousal but had to use lube cause its kinda too big lol. I used the suction vibe too, and laid down on my stomach cause I can grind on it like that.

Then I kept adding stuff as i got worked up, a plug in my ass and another toy in my mouth. I tried to keep it in my throat when I came but I was choking too much. I swear I drooled so much it was like someone came in my mouth.

Orgasm hit me so hard I think I blacked out for a second. One of those ones where I can feel it coming like a warm wave. So fucking good, just what I needed after walking around all day <3

[farahtissaiamyloves]

Arrange marriage, yknow the lady leonora lesso one can u do a part two of that. If not then could u do a lady lesso x female reader in the tub, playing around splashing each other cause it's be a boring sad day.

Arranged Marriage - part 2

Hi Anon, thanks a lot for the request, and I hope your days get better. So, in order to achieve that, you can have both.

Also, thanks for submitting a request with an idea and not just " write smth for Lady Lesso, please "

Part 1 Part 3

Everybody knew that Leonora was behind it. Yet, nobody could prove that the dean was even near the crime scene.

She had the perfect alibi, as she was enjoying the perfect taste of her tea alongside her wive at the time of the incident.

Nobody needed to know that you actually drank your tea alone that day.

Even so, you couldn't not go at Philip's funeral.

After what happened at the ball last year, Leonora never once did she forget about the man who must have been infatuated with you.

After all, nobody - except her - could now see her pregnant wife sexually.

You were five months pregnant already, and the never thought that the prince's death could no longer be postponed. He needed to go for you to focus totally on your baby and the family you would build together.

It was quick. She told you it would.

Just one slice.

Down his throat.

Leonora's coat didn't even get dirty as she avoided efficiently the river of blood, which followed the huge cut.

You didn't try to stop her, like she thought you would. Fact, which angered her even more.

What could have done that bastard to you for your ever-always willing to save everyone ass to say nothing ?

However, she came to the conclusion that that didn't matter anymore.

You were married now and waiting for your pretty daughter to come to this world.

Philip was playing with the fire and led himself to this.

So, that's how you ended up wearing a black dress and leaning against your wive's arm while she was wearing her usual coat, smiling at the dead body inside the coffin.

You waited patiently for the funeral to come to end suddenly wishing to eat pizza with chocolate.

You brought Leonora's hand to your growing tummy as you pressed your head against her arm.

The dean immediately understood that you were once again hungry.

Leonora kissed the top of your head and whispered to you that you would leave the moment this was to end.

Soon enough, the priest finished, and you were the first to give your condolences to his family.

Of course, Leonora chose to honor her evil side and tease his parents and sister instead.

" I'm curious. How does it feel to be an only child ? " She inquired to Philip's sister.

The girl shook her head, ignoring the evil dean as she turned her attention to you. " I'm so sorry for your unfortunate marriage. Unlike her, my brother had at least manners. "

You froze. One hand on top of your belly and the other snaked around Leonora's.

Leonora raised an eyebrow at the girl. " You know that I'm over here, and I can hear you, right ? "

She continued purposely ignoring her, focusing on you. " Philip could have provided you with everything you wish... We both know that a never and their insensitivity will never be capable of that. "

You couldn't believe what you were listening. Someone talking shit about Leonora in front of her. You would have felt so bad if you were in her shoes.

" I guess we will never know. Anyway, we need to go now, even the slightest of things tire me with my whole pregnancy ordeal. " You excuse yourself.

The girl couldn't say anything against that and watched as Lesso dragged you outside of the church. But she didn't leave before sending to Philip's family her signature smirk.

When you returned to your quarters, you were starving. You didn't bother undressing before eating.

Leonora, after helping you to the kitchen table and making sure you had everything you needed, went to the bathroom to prepare the bath.

It was a pity you were unable to drink wine while laying in the bath together, but Leonora did not mind.

She was willing to sacrifice everything for the health of her baby.

When you were finished, you were pleasantly surprised with Leonora.

" You deserve a kiss. " You said with your most serious face, stepping on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek.

Leonora chuckled at your antics and led you to the bathroom.

The woman helped you undress and step into the tub.

After disregarding her own clothes and, of course, folding your dress, she joined you in the tub.

You sighed happily when your head rested against Leonora's shoulder. The woman wrapped her hands around you, pulling you closer to her.

You stayed like that for several moments until a crazy idea came to you.

You looked up at Leonora, who had her eyes closed and head resting on top of yours.

Perfect.

She wouldn't even see it coming.

With a quick move, you slightly pull away from her grasp. Leonora's eyes opened, not realizing what was happening until some water fell on her face.

The evil dean raised an eyebrow at you. " What was that for ? "

You shrugged. " Nothing. But I always wanted to do that. "

Lady Lesso hummed at your reply, faking deep thought. You returned to your previous position, thinking that she probably won't do it back due to your pregnancy.

She proved you wrong, though.

You turned your head to look at her, offended. " Hey ! "

She smirked at you. " What ? I thought that this was what the princess wanted. "

You shook your head. " You splashed more water to my face than I did to yours. "

Leonora chuckled. " Is that so ? "

" Yes. " Was your response alongside a splash aiming for her face.

" I see. The princess chose war. " She said said splashing water back at you.

And War it was.

The walls around the tub were wet from the water missing your faces, and whatever had remained from your makeup was long gone.

After what felt like hours, you grew tired.

However, Leonora didn't seem ever near to it.

You closed your eyes, covering them with your hands. " Okay, Okay. That's enough, Leo. I wanna go to bed. "

Leonora gave a triumpant hum before standing up to get the towel and help you dry.

As the Dean of Evil was drying your belly, she couldn't resist kissing it.

" Goodnight, baby. Hope you gonna avenge your mother's loss one day. "

[meowmeowriley]

Don’t mind me while I scream incoherently about the latest chapter of WsDB because holy shit was it good!!!

Ghost is the biggest shit ever and I love that for him (he deserves those strawberry’s).

all the gifts from his family the skull jumper were really well thought out (Soaps gonna lose his shit when he finds out Ghost’s part Scottish) The Akubra!!!! and the Skull omfg the sweet and twisted fluffy feelings 😭 They’re both in love and neither of the dumb arses realise it yet (I bet everyone else does though)

Poor price though he’s so worried for is anti social son. Ghost: *going out of his way to show affection and share things about himself with the team* Price: *sweating* wondering if he needs to call an ambulance or a priest first

Were Prices photos an 09 reference? How old is that hat?! I forgot you mentioned that Gaz’s girlfriend would be a spider! She must cop so much shit all the time (good on Kyle for not letting anyone add to it) I have a couple questions about her but all ask them later. Soap is so excited about his big family and ghost is about to go “hold my beer”. THE SPIRAL holy shit, like yes Ghost you do need therapy but that’s besides the point, your fucked up feelings are both weirdly sweet and reciprocated. Soap would 100% honour and respect every part of Ghost dead or alive they match each others freak. So your telling me that at the family show and tell Roach brought a photo of him with the rest of the 141 acting like idiots because they’re his family (your paying my physic bills because my heart just broke)

I love how Gaz and Roach are initially shocked by Ghost being trans but after it wears off they don’t actually care (meanwhile soap is in the background trying to do math) it’s just a thing like the sky is blue, the earth is round and Ghost is trans. The bigger shock is the whole rabbit situation, I can’t wait till soap finds out exactly what type of rabbit Ghost is. (Especially after what he just said lol) and Ghost’s last words for the chapter amounting to “I wouldn’t betray your trust but I have and will continue to fuck with you.

Sorry it's taken me a while to get back to this, but I wanted to give people a change to read it since this is a bit spoilery for chapter 3. ❤ Hopefully its been enough time, let's dive in!

Ghost being a little shit is one of my favorite parts of this fic, he deserves to be a menace.

Soap and his Akubra have been rotting my brain since it was first mentioned, and it will come up again. The man looks damn good in that hat.

Soap giving Ghost a fucking rabbit skull of all things, he's trying so hard to get into Ghost's good graces, and had no clue at the time how fucked up that action was 😂 next chapter will have our first taste of Soap's POV and his realization of the implications of his actions.

Price watching Ghost come out of his shell like 😰 lol the poor guy, he's never seen Ghost act like this and he's worried the man is losing it.

So Price's photos were a bit of a personal headcanon of mine, because Modern Warfare's Price isn't the first, only Price in the Call of Duty games. There was a Captain Price in Call of Duty and Call of Duty 2, who looks similar but his accent is way thicker and the timeline is set in WW2. There's also mention of a Johnathan Price in COD Black Ops. It's never explicitly stated (to my knowledge) that that man is one and the same as our Captain from MW. Anyway, I like to believe that the Price family has been sending their boys off to be Captains for generations.

Please ask about Gaz's spider GF, I love her, and want to talk about her!

Roach's family photos was fun and sad to write. Basically, by joining the military he severed ties with his old gang, who were all he had. So the 141 means everything to him. This will be important later. 😈

Ghost: I'm trans

Everyone: huh, okay, didn't know that. Woulda never guessed.

Ghost: also I'm a rabbit

Everyone: minds blown, chaos, worldview shattered

And lastly, as much as Ghost is fucking with and going to continue fucking with Soap, trust that I have all kinds of mental and emotional fuckery planned for you lot, my lovely readers. 😘

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Life Cycles

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

*banging pots and pans together* WAKE UP ASSHOLES ETHAN WINTERS IS BACK IN ALL HIS MOLDED GLORY AND YES WE ARE HERE FOR IT TO BE OUR PROBLEMS (special shout out to @justanormiewhoreads and @gigi-the-bear because yes this is sort of for you two specifically ^-^)

Eveline is back because i love her and she deserves to be

Chris Leon Rose and Ethan are about to become the world's most awkward family of BOWs and anti-BOW operatives and I'm about to make that your problem

(mia's not in this one sorry but she'll have her time too i promise)

((also for further down the pipeline i need you all to start getting excited about the Winters roasting the absolute SHIT out of Resident Edgelord Albert Wesker bc I had this image of Rose calling him a Matrix reject to his face and couldn't stop laughing for about an hour so i need you guys to laugh with me))

Warnings: disarming (hah) bc it's ethan but also bc it's ethan he's fine 2 seconds later

Pairings: implied/hinted winterfield

Word Count: 10,170

The first time he talks to Eveline, really actually talks, is right after he 'dies' from his 'injuries' from the battle with Miranda. Yes, the quotes are necessary, because if he doesn't put them there, he does dangerous things like thinking he's alive and has a body that can get up and go find his daughter and give her a big, huge, actual hug because he's sad, goddammit, that he can't do that because he's not alive.

Anyway. Miranda. 'Dying.' Rose being the best thing in the whole world and a fucking badass and then still being his baby girl, holding his hand to her cheek as the world turned to glowing white motes of light around them.

He remembers being in pain, drained in the way that came from trying to do too much on too little that he's gotten used to after Dulvey. He remembers being happy that he got to see his daughter, even if only for a little bit, and that he could tell her how sorry he was, how much he loved her, how proud she makes him every single day. He remembers watching her fade away, feeling the warmth of her touch grow cold, and closing his eyes. Who knew, if Miranda could die some final death in here, maybe he could too.

Alas, if there was one thing he could count on when the world went to shit, it was that the universe was determined that he wouldn't stay dead. He has a vague memory of some priest telling him that being able to wake up after an awful night was God's way of telling you He loved you and a much less vague memory of thinking that if God really did love him, he'd better not pull that shit anymore. But Ethan's religious days were behind him—quite a long way behind him—and the only God he believes in now doesn't exist.

He drags himself up off the cold, flat plains, grimacing at the slime congealing on his palms. There are not enough towels in this hellscape to make it leave completely, or any towels at all, so he wipes them on his pants as best he can and looks around. He's actually managed to stay manifested, which is not something he'd expected, so maybe there's something worth exploring down here. He picks a direction and starts to walk. Fog roils around him and he suppresses a shudder. Black mold runs along the ground in rivulets like some great beast bleeding out over the plains and he does his best to stick to the drier parts, picking his way along the ground until he comes to a wider river. A quick glance up and down shows not much in the way of a bridge or even a drier spot, and testing his luck with the depth doesn't sound like the smartest idea.

He's about to turn around and try the other direction when he hears a quiet sound coming from just out of sight to his left. He pauses, tilting his head. No, that's—that's definitely someone crying.

His first thought is that Rose got stuck. Maybe she was on her way back to the real world and something went wrong. Maybe he fucked up by giving her his power and tied her here somehow. But even as he starts toward her—fatherly instincts have his body moving before he registers it—he knows that's not true. Rose doesn't sound like that when she cries. He knows it.

But then who else could it be?

The answer comes to him too slowly and too quickly all at once. Eveline. That's Eveline crying. It's the same he heard from up in that recreation of the Beneviento House, after she'd thrown her tantrum at Rose and worn herself out, collapsing on her knees and sobbing that no one loved her. Something in his chest tugs at that—no child, no matter who they were, should ever feel uncertain about being loved.

Granted, this child was a genetically engineered bioweapon that ruined innocent lives and made his life a living hell, but still. Ethan likes to think that he's retained enough of his own sense of self to know that he still believes in silly little things like compassion.

He keeps walking along the riverbank, trying to follow the sound, but it keeps being thrown about in the fog. One second it sounds like it's coming from vaguely in front of him, the next it's behind him, then across the river, then right behind him, then in front of him again. Still, there's a tug in his gut as he keeps moving forward, some invisible tether leading him right to Eveline. He pushes the fear about that particular revelation aside in favor of crying child, find the crying child.

Bleeding heart, get him killed, too soft, too sensitive, blah, blah, blah. He died in 2017, that isn't exactly sticking. He'll take his bleeding heart, thanks.

It's almost anticlimactic when he finds her. Sure enough, she's huddled in a ball on the edge of the river, her waders pulled high up her legs, her hands tangled in her filthy skirts. He stops a good distance away—just because he cares doesn't mean he's not wary, after all—and crouches slightly.

"Eveline?"

Her head whips around. She stares at him with wide eyes, mouth open slightly. He holds out a hand.

"I'm not going to—'

"Back off!"

He winces when a wave of her telekenetic power slams into him, but it's weaker than he remembers. He holds his ground, hand still raised. "I'm not here to hurt you, Eveline."

"Leave me alone! Get away from me!" She grabs a handful of the mold and throws it at him, her power making it splatter across his face. "I hate you!"

Now, the smart thing to do would be to leave. Eveline is telling him in no uncertain terms that she wants to be left alone. He should not be confronting a bioweapon this powerful like this. Everyone he knows, he's sure, Chris, Mia, the rest of Chris's soldiers, hell, even Rose, they would tell him to leave.

But the smart thing to do would also not be to go get his wife in a tiny town in Louisiana off one email after she'd been presumed dead for three years, and that ship sailed years ago. Literally.

So, Ethan Winters does what he does best, and sets his jaw. "I'm not gonna leave you, Eveline."

To his—and her—surprise, she hesitates before she throws the next bit of mold. He stays there, crouched on the ground, just watching her. Her eyes narrow.

"Why? What do you want?"

"You were crying."

"Shut up!" She throws it again, but it's even weaker. "That doesn't matter! You're so dumb, can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why were you crying?"

"Stupid Rose ruined everything! She came in here and made everything worse and now it's all ruined!"

He bites back the instinctive don't call my daughter stupid. "What did she ruin?"

"Everything!"

"The house? The mold? Miranda? I don't understand."

"You're so dumb. You didn't know you were dead, or that you were made of mold. Of course you don't understand."

"Then help me understand." He takes a seat on the cold, damp ground as Eveline eyes him trepidatiously. "What did she ruin, Eveline?"

She glares at him for another few seconds before looking away, eyes on the river of black mold. "She wasn't supposed to come here. I was supposed to go out there."

Cold chills shoot down Ethan's spine. "You…you want to go back?"

"Obviously. It sucks here. I don't want to be trapped here for the rest of my life. I want to go back out there. Miranda always thought she was so smart, that she could just use the mold to make her stupid daughter come back but she was stupid too. That's not how it works. She's not mold, she can't make it do anything."

"And you can?"

Eveline glares at him again. "I'm the smart one. I'm the strong one. I can do anything! My powers are so much better than Rose's. All she can do is shoot and dodge. I can make things just by thinking about them, I can control the mold more than Miranda and Rose ever could. Obviously I can do it better."

Okay. This was fine. This was totally fine. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, there was no reason for him to panic, this is fine.

"…so what did Rose ruin?"

Eveline doesn't say anything. Instead, she stands up and disappears into the ground. Ethan sighs, burying his face in his hands. Great. He's trapped here with the remnant of the child bioweapon responsible for his death and the rest of his misery. And he's just learned she wants to go back.

This is fine.

***

"We don't know what we're going to find," Chris barks as the rest of the team lines up next to the already whirring chopper, "so be prepared for anything. We start at the north end of the village, then work our way—"

"Chris," Leon interrupts, nodding to something over his shoulder. He turns.

Rosemary Winters is striding towards them across the runway. Several agents are staring at her and Chris swallows heavily. She looks pissed. He can't really blame her.

"Rose—"

"I'll fucking break your nose, Redfield." She doesn't even break stride as she marches right past him and onto the chopper. The rest of the squad just moves out of her way.

He doesn't blame them either.

Leon slaps him on the shoulder as they follow her in, strapping in for takeoff. With only a moment's hesitation, he sits right next to her, Leon on her other side. She's staring straight ahead, still glaring, but her fingers are trembling ever so slightly. As soon as they're in the air and he's pretty sure no one except Leon will notice, he takes her hand in his and holds it tight.

If she notices his fingers trembling too, she doesn't say anything.

***

Eveline isn't too fond of it when he figures out he can talk to Rose the same way he could when she was in the upper stratum. It takes a lot of focus. So much so that when he comes out of talking to Rose about her new room decorations—really, he's half convinced if he could harness the outrage at the thought of his daughter being in basically a cell for most of her life, he'd be out of here in no time—he actually has to take a second to register that his hand is missing again.

Then he realizes that his hand is missing again and screams.

"Oh, shut up," comes a grumble to his right and his severed hand hits him in the face, "don't be such a big baby."

He puts his hand back on quickly—and doesn't think about the fact that he can just do that—and glares at Eveline, who doesn't look the least bit repentant. She crosses her arms, tapping her foot. "Why did you do that?"

"You weren't listening to me. I had to get your attention."

"So you cut off my hand?"

She shrugs. "You didn't even feel it and it's not like it matters here. You're fine, see?"

"That's not the point! Don't just cut my hand off!"

"How else am I supposed to get your attention when you're doing your stupid glassy-eyed staring thing?"

"Wait for me to be done? Does that sound reasonable to you?" Eveline just scowls and he sighs. "What did you want?"

She scuffs the toe of her boot along the moldy ground. "You promised to go on a walk with me."

That's right—they'd started going on walks together. Once they established that trying to kill each other wouldn't do anything—they were already both dead and any damage Eveline did to Ethan he'd just heal anyway—they'd started just…walking around. No talking necessary, no actual sense of companionship, but there was only so much to do in the mold flatlands, so…walking it was.

"And you couldn't wait until I was done?"

Eveline's face darkens. "You promised we'd go soon. Then you started doing the dumb staring thing—"

"That 'dumb staring thing' is me talking to my daughter."

"—exactly, the dumb staring thing, and when you do that, you go away for a long time and you promised we'd go soon." She nods her head like she's won a great debate. "So. Now we can go."

He sighs, looking down at his hand. It still moves as good as it ever did, and it's not like he can die of blood loss in here, so he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Next time, just tug on my sleeve or something? Unless that didn't work?"

"I tried that. I tried shouting at you too. You didn't react to anything until I cut off your hand, but I don't think that really worked either. Maybe I should try—"

"Maybe we should figure out a way for you to get my attention without hurting me," he interrupts as they start walking along the river. She scoffs.

"Nothing hurts in here. They're not real bodies. They're just mold."

"I was 'just mold' for years and let me tell you, things definitely still hurt."

"But you were out there—" Eveline waves a hand at the sky— "that's different. That doesn't count."

He ignores that for now. "Things still hurt in here too, Eveline."

"No, they don't." He frowns, before reaching out a hand. She glares at it as it moves closer. "What are you doing?"

"Can I touch you?"

"No. Gross. Why?"

"I want to know if you can feel things."

"Don't be an idiot, of course I can feel things." He stops walking. Eveline huffs and stamps her foot again. "Why are you being extra stupid today?"

"Humor me. Sometimes I have days where I need to be extra stupid. If you help me, I'll stop needing to be extra stupid faster."

"Fine." She stomps back over to him. "What do you want to do, just touch me?"

"Close your eyes."

"Why, so you can stab me?"

"What? No, why would I do that? I think between the two of us, you're the stabbier one."

"You already stabbed me! Then you killed me!"

Oh. Oh, yeah, he…he did do that, didn't he? Granted, it was with a toxin and not a knife, but stabbing most definitely did happen and he was the one that did it.

Eveline scoffs again. "What, don't tell me you forgot how you killed me."

"I…I'm not going to stab you. I want to see if you can tell when I'm touching you, that's all."

"Gross."

"Just hold your hand out, okay?" He holds his out to as a peace offering. "Hold my hand."

"This is stupid." But she does it. "There, I'm holding your hand. I can tell I'm holding your hand. Are you happy now? Can you stop being stupid?"

"Now leave your hand there and close your eyes." She grumbles under her breath as he lets go but keeps her hand there and closes her eyes. "Okay. You can open them again when you feel me grab your hand, okay?"

"I'm not an idiot, I get it."

"Okay, okay."

He waits for a few seconds, just to see if she'll actually listen to him or if she's just going to call him stupid and keep going on their walk. Granted, he's not exactly sure why he's doing this either. He never was the scientist between them, but he does have a bit too much curiosity for his own good. Slowly, he reaches out and takes Eveline's hand in his.

She doesn't move. Doesn't open her eyes.

Her hand is small. Too small. Her fingers are cold, a little sticky, but not from the mold. He has the impulse to rub his thumb along her knuckles to warm her up, so he does. Back and forth, back and forth. He keeps waiting for her eyes to open.

They don't.

Something terribly, terribly sad settles in his chest and for the first time since arriving here, he feels a little bit cold.

"Are you gonna get on with it already?" She shifts her weight. "I'm getting bored."

"Eveline," he says, far too gently.

"What?" She cracks one eye open and sees his hand in hers, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles. Her eyes go wide, her breath comes out in a big rush, and then she rips her hand away from him. "Don't do that again!"

His arm stays outstretched, even as she turns away from him, hunching her shoulders. She takes several deep breaths, each a little shakier than the last.

"I don't want to walk with you today," she declares, and disappears.

His hand tingles with the memory of her cold little fingers in his, aching tenderly.

***

They land on a cliff face high above the wreckage of the village. Leon winces at the bite of the cold air, tugging his jacket closer to himself as Chris barks orders to the rest of the squad. They fan out and start moving. Working with Chris is as seamless as ever, except that there's an unarmed teenager standing by the helicopter still.

"Rose, on me."

"Coming." She trots over and slips in behind them. He moves closer as Chris edges slightly in front. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"Stay focused. This isn't a drill."

"I know."

He sees Chris's hands tense slightly and glances at Rose. He drops back a little more to keep her in between them. She notices and her mouth twitches but she doesn't say anything. They move through the forest, down a snowy slope, into a thicker grove of trees.

"Any idea where we might need to look?"

"Sensors picked up something near the detonation site, not far off from where the Megamycete used to be. Chances are it's nothing, but if—"

"Look out!"

Leon's gun aims at the tree line as a massive cracking sound rips through the air. If Rose had yanked Chris back half a second later, he'd be at the bottom of the gorge that their cliff just collapsed into. They all stand there, panting heavily, until their comms start chirping. Everyone's alright, no one got caught or was injured.

"We'll need to head back. Further along the mountain there's a safer way down."

"No." Rose stares off into the trees for a second. "There's an old bridge over here that will take us to the outskirts of the castle."

"How do you know?"

"The mold's everywhere in the ground here. I can…I can feel it."

Well, that's a great start to anything if you ask Leon. Chris is clearly working through the same issue before he sighs, pats her gently on the shoulder, and motions for her to stay behind him. She does, but there's a furrow in her brow that wasn't there before.

"Hey," he calls quietly, and she turns to him, "stay focused, remember? Need you to help me haul Redfield back from anymore collapsing cliffs."

"I heard that."

***

Eveline doesn't talk to him for—well, he'd say for a few days but time's weird here. It bothers him more than it should. He tries to find her, but she wasn't lying when she said she understood the mold way better than he did, and he might as well be wandering around with a blindfold and earplugs for all the success he has.

Then he has a fight with Rose and he spends hours silently pleading for her to look and see how sorry he is. It takes everything in him to keep those words there, to keep himself aware enough to be there. Everything narrows down to the dusty floorboards, the sound of Rose sobbing, the thump-thump of her heartbeat. Nothing else in the world matters, could matter, nothing except for the part of him he's pushing through the mold to write out i'm sorry rose.

Rose forgives him. He forgives her. Of course he does, she's his daughter. She asks him to stay until she falls asleep and he does, glowing from the floor until her heart rate slows and he finally, finally sinks back into the mold flatlands.

And blinks, because Eveline is sitting there, holding his hand.

"He—"

"You were gone a long time," she says bluntly, "I thought you were really dead."

He swallows. His throat is dry. Is he lying down? "I'm back now."

Her mouth twists. She looks down at their hands. Her fingers are clumsily clutching his, hers too-white against his slimy, slightly moldy ones. The chill still surprises him but he swallows it—with difficultly.

"Thank you for not cutting my hand off."

"I didn't know it hurt you."

"Can—can you feel this?" He squeezes her fingers. "Does that hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt." Her mouth twists again. "I know I'm holding your hand, but it—it's like I remember it."

He pushes himself to an elbow, wincing at the strain in his body. He really overdid it this time, not that he's surprised. "You feel cold to me."

"I do?"

"Like a little ice cube."

"I remember being cold," she says, and now she actually sounds like a child, reminiscing about something, "the ship was really cold. The house—the house was nice and warm, though."

"The Baker House?"

"Yeah. D—Jack brought me upstairs and tucked me into bed. It was so soft."

He rubs his thumb over her knuckles before the thinks better of it. Her fingers twitch but she doesn't pull away. He pushes himself up until he's sitting next to her, still holding her hand. "Romania was cold. Really cold. I was worried I was gonna get frostbite."

"The mold wouldn't have let you. You would've just healed from it."

"Oh."

"It's really good at staying in shapes. That's why Miranda was so powerful here and why she could make copies of Rose and the Duke and the dolls."

"And why you and I are here?"

Eveline shifts, bringing her knees up to her chest. "We're—we're different. Rose is different too. They made me from the mold, just like she was made from the mold."

"Uh—" Is he going to have to explain to Eveline how babies are made?

"You were mold already when you made her, stupid."

"But then what does that make me? I wasn't made from the mold, not originally."

Eveline's face pinches, but she doesn't look mad. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back out of reflex. "You're…complicated."

He can't help but chuckle. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever called me complicated."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've always been pretty boring. I had a decent childhood, a boring job…I wasn't anything special, just a simple, boring person."

"You're not boring."

"Hey," he says, lightly bumping her shoulder with his elbow, "I think that was almost a compliment."

"Shut up. You're boring sometimes."

He laughs again. They're still holding hands. The black river gurgles next to them. After a while, Eveline looks up at him again. "What?"

"You weren't supposed to come back."

"In Dulvey?"

She nods. "Jack killed you and you were supposed to come back to life, but you weren't supposed to come back."

That's…not what he was expecting to hear. "I thought you brought me there so Mia and I could be your parents. Why do that just to have Jack kill me?"

Her face twists up again and before she can pull away, he grabs her other hand. She flinches a little but settles, refusing to look at him. Her jaw clenches.

"She wanted you," she spits out, "I thought—I thought—never mind. This is stupid."

"It's not stupid, Eveline. If it matters to you—"

"It doesn't!" She rips her hands away and stands up. "It doesn't matter anymore, all of them are gone. You shouldn't spend so much time staring like that, you'll get hurt and then I'll have no one to walk with me. We're walking soon."

She's gone before he can say another word. He sighs, wincing as he gets to his feet. Christ, he feels like he's gone ten rounds with Chris on a bad day, and then some. Maybe he did overdo it this time—okay, okay, he definitely did, but Rose was upset. What was he supposed to do, leave? Not likely.

Okay. So. Rose and Eveline, the same when it comes to the mold. Sort of. On some level. Him, not the same. Complicated. Not supposed to be him, whatever that meant. Something to do with Mia. Doesn't everything at this point come back to that? Not for the first time, he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn't married Mia, and then quickly decides not to pursue that train of thought. Wouldn't lead anywhere good.

Almost unconsciously, he turns to look at the black river, watching it ooze its way along the flat, icy, muddy, moldy ground. He kicks a clump of it over. It sticks to his boot. The faint smell of rotting plants meets his nose. He wonders if that's just a memory from Louisiana, or if it's actually here. If Eveline couldn't feel things, it made sense that maybe he didn't have all of his senses either.

Speaking of complicated…he has no clue when he started to care about Eveline, and he doesn't really know what to do with this knowledge now that he has it. Eveline is a child, yes, but still a bioweapon, still unrepentant about what she did, still would very much ruin his life if she had the chance, probably. But they're both stuck here, and from the looks of it, they're not really going anywhere anytime soon.

And she had…changed.

He looks down at his hand. How long had she been holding it before he came back here? Had she debated cutting it off instead? And if she did think he was really dead, like she said, why was she still sitting there, holding his hand?

The way she talked about the warmth of the Baker house, the way she almost called Jack 'Dad,' the way she talked about being tucked into bed…he has a sudden flash of memory of being tormented in the Beneviento House, chased by the giant baby monster, and nearly breaking down all over the Duke as soon as he was out of there. Because yeah, that thing had been absolutely terrifying, but the worst part was that it was so sad. It reached into some deep part of him, the part that was screaming over carrying his daughter around in flasks, the part the was mourning his wife—or so he thought—and he had the equally terrifying urge to try and comfort it. It was a near thing, not sobbing in front of the Duke, because it seemed so lonely and so scared and so, so sad, and Ethan knew what that felt like.

He looks off toward the river again and pats his pockets. When he goes to meet Eveline for their walk, he holds out a pair of gloves. She eyes them like they're a dead animal.

"What are those for?"

"Your hands. If you get cold."

"I can't feel it, dummy," even as she takes them. She pulls them on and grumbles: "they don't even fit right."

"You don't have to wear them."

She glares at him like he's an idiot and turns on her heel, beginning to walk along the river. He follows, easily catching up. They walk in silence for a while. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches her playing with the empty parts of the too-big fingers. He says nothing about it.

"I'm keeping these," she announces when they've walked far enough that day, "you aren't getting them back."

"You're welcome."

"Shut up," but it's said a little quieter than usual.

***

The ground feels like it's tingling under her boots. She's trying to focus, she really is, but it's hard when it feels like she's walking on a constantly vibrating…thing. Every now and then she has to give herself a shake before Chris or Leon can call her out on it, but she's pretty sure they're noticing anyway.

"Hey," Leon says quietly when Chris responds to someone over comms, "you doing okay?"

"I'm fine. Just…feels weird."

"What does?"

"The ground. It's like it's humming or something."

"Well, if it sounds like it's gonna bust out old show tunes, you give us a heads-up, deal?"

She huffs a laugh. "Not like that. Like it's—okay, you know how those old video game controllers would like, rumble when you got close to stuff in-game?"

"Jeez, kid, you're making me feel like I'm ancient over here."

"We are ancient," Chris grunts, "at least in this game. What about them, Rose?"

"It sort of feels like it's trying to…guide me somewhere."

Both of them stop, turning to look at her. She rolls her eyes.

"Not in a bad way, it doesn't feel like Miranda or anything is doing it on purpose. But it's a living thing, it's…living. It's reacting."

They exchange another one of those glances. "You let us know if it changes in any way, okay?"

"Sure."

"Come on. Umber Eyes says there's a building up ahead where we can rest for a minute."

***

Something weird is happening, and for Ethan, that's saying something. He's started…feeling things. Not like how he and Rose can share feelings if he's talking to her, but he's able to…feel things. It takes him less time than he'd care to admit to bring it up with Eveline.

"You're the main Host now, so it makes sense."

He blinks. And blinks again. "I'm the what?"

She rolls her eyes, looking up from where she's fiddling with the gloves—he tries not to be too proud at how much she likes them. "You're the mold's last body, or last hope of a body. Your thing is being able to heal yourself from pretty much anything, and you weren't actually super destroyed when you set the bomb off. So you're the main Host."

"But I'm…dead."

"Yeah, and? The Black God doesn't care."

"The black what?"

"God, you are stupid. Don't you pay attention?"

"I've had other things to worry about, okay?"

"Yeah, like Rose." She's caught on to the fact that he doesn't like it when she refers to Rose as his 'stupid daughter,' but that doesn't mean she suddenly likes her. "The Black God. The thing that's in charge. The fungal root that ate the bodies of the people in the village. It wants to live, obviously, but it's weak now because you and Rose killed Miranda so well, so now it's trying to get out."

"Through…me?" Eveline shrugs. "Wait, wait, but does that mean that it could steal my body? Is this what you meant by saying I wasn't supposed to come back?"

"I don't know everything," she snaps, "I just know more than you. I don't know what it wants, it's not like I can ask it. I can just feel it moving. Is that what you're feeling?"

"Not really. It's more—it's more like I can feel a bunch of things moving. Like there are bugs crawling on me but they don't feel like bugs."

Eveline goes quiet for a moment, staring off into space. One of the gloves falls into her lap with a low smacking sound.

"What is it?"

"Bugs," she says under her breath, "she liked the bugs."

Ah. Right. Marguerite Baker's 'gift' from Eveline, also known as why Ethan has a personal relationship with many pesticides now. He stays quiet, though, watching Eveline think. After a while, he gently prompts her: "did you choose what gifts to give them?"

Eveline shrugs. "They sort of…took it for themselves."

"How do you mean?"

"The mold is weird. It wants you but it wants you to want it too, so it…tries to give you want you want. Sort of. Jack got to be strong to protect his family."

"Why did Marguerite get bugs, then?"

"I don't know. I don't know what she wanted. Just like I don't know what Rose wants." She sneaks a glance up at him. "Or what you want."

Ethan falls quiet. He thinks about Louisiana, about finding Mia, about losing her all over again in Romania, about Rose, about dying again and again and again. He looks down at Eveline, still watching him expectantly.

"I wanted to live," he says, as quiet as the black river.

"…oh." After a moment, she shuffles close enough to press against his side. "That's not a stupid thing to want."

"I'm glad you think so."

She's cold, pressed up against him. She's still playing with the gloves. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, looking at the river. They're sitting on one of the less moldy parts of the bank, watching the flow of it through the fog. It's almost warm in the weird, grey, not-sunlight.

"What did you mean, when you said they felt like bugs but not bugs?"

"Bugs skitter. These sort of feel like they're…walking."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Like—like people walking?"

"Sometimes. Normally not, though. They're too small."

"But like—do you feel like the ground?"

"Huh?"

"The ground. Like if a bunch of things were walking on you at once, and you could feel all of them."

He thinks. Then he thinks some more. Then he nudges her shoulder with his. "Look at you, smarty-pants."

"I told you I was smart," she preens, and he laughs and she grins. Then he holds out his hand, palm up, and she stops smiling. "What?"

"Wanna help me figure out what's going on with me?"

"Really?"

He shrugs. "Unless you just wanna go on walks forever."

She looks at the river, then at his hand. She drops one of the gloves into her lap and reaches back. Her hand is still cold, but she squeezes. "What should we do first?"

"Well," he sighs as he looks around, "we should probably figure out a bit more about where exactly we are. I know we can get to different strata, and we can manifest stuff if we're strong enough, but how far does that go? Can we just…make anything? Is there anyone else here?"

"You have so many questions," she accuses, "how 'm I supposed to know?"

"Our questions now. We're in this together."

Eveline looks at him for a long second before she's yanking him up and away from the river. He gives a small shout of surprise when his arm is nearly torn out of his socket, but he follows her until they reach a flatter part of the plains and she drops it.

"Make something."

"What?"

"Make something." She folds her arms. "Go on. You need to get a better grasp of how the mold works? Make something with it."

You're as bad as Chris, he thinks but doesn't say, and closes his eyes. Concentrates. Pictures something in his hands and when he opens them, there's Rose's little stuffed monkey, right there in front of him. For a moment it's almost like he's in their house, in Romania, he's holding Rose in one arm and playing with the monkey in the other—

"Why'd you make that?"

Eveline's voice jolts him from his reverie. He sighs, cradling the little plush thing in his hands. "It's the thing I think about the most."

"The monkey? Or Rose?"

"Both, I guess. This was…" he has to pause to swallow, "this was the last moment where I thought everything was gonna be okay. Something was wrong with Mia, Rose was—she'd just read this creepy story, and all I wanted to do was hold onto Rose and—"

He sighs.

"No use thinking about that now, I suppose," he says quietly and the monkey fades from view right before his eyes. "Sorry. I'll, uh, I'll make something else."

Eveline's suspiciously quiet. She doesn't even call him stupid. She just kicks some of the frozen mud and waits. He pauses, brow furrowing, before deciding this is something he can ask her about later. He strays away from the guns, the first aid bottles, the white sage, trying for something else, something from him, something that might help him understand the mold better…

…and when he opens his eyes, he's holding a tiny notebook.

"What's that for?"

"When I was a kid, my mom used to get me little notebooks and drawing pads for me to keep in my pockets. Apparently, I had a problem with daydreaming and stuff, so she thought that if I had a place to put all of them, they wouldn't stay in my head so much and I could…I dunno, focus or whatever." He snorts. "I remember I used to write down stories or draw made-up creatures and refuse to show them to anyone."

"Like having a diary?"

"Sort of." He flips it over and to his surprise, there's his writing. His horrible, scratchy, imperfect writing, but this isn't a story he would've written when he was that young. No, this is…this is…

Eveline edges closer. "What's wrong? You look upset."

"It's…it's what I would've done," he mumbles, eyes still transfixed by the story on the too-small pages, "when I was upset, I'd write…I'd write how I wish it would've gone. This is—it's the story I would've told myself if this happened to me when I was a kid."

"I told you," she says, "it wants you to want it, so it tries to give you what it thinks you want. Do…do you want that story?"

There's a hesitance in her voice that makes him look up. She's not meeting his gaze anymore. He looks back at the pages. "I don't think so."

"Really? Isn't it better than what actually happened?"

"Yeah, but it's not—it's not me."

"What do you mean, it's not you? Aren't you the simple boring guy?"

"Hey," he says, lightly shoving her. She barely reacts. "It's—oh, god, how do I put this? That story would be nice, yeah, but it'd get…me. This version of me from my messed-up story. The version of me that had all the awful stuff happen to me."

"So?"

"So, I wouldn't know what to do. I need to—god, I didn't think I'd ever talk about my marriage problems with you of all people, but I needed to talk about Louisiana." Is he having second thoughts about spilling this information to Eveline? Maybe, but that's a problem for later him. "Mia wanted to pretend like it never happened, and I couldn't do that. So if I got—if I were in that story, where it didn't happen there, I might—I think it'd make me crazy."

He looks down at the notebook and concentrates. After a moment, the pages shimmer and go blank. He holds it up for her to see.

"There, that's better."

"I guess."

He frowns at her sudden lack of enthusiasm, putting the notebook in his pocket—it fits perfectly. "Your turn."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You make something."

"I'm not the one who needs to practice," she says mulishly.

"So show me how it's done."

She glares at the ground—at the ground, not even at him, they've made more progress than he thought—before she holds out her hand and a pencil appears. She thrusts it at him without looking up. "You forgot to make something to write with."

"Thank you."

"Shut up."

"Most people just say 'you're welcome,' but I get what you mean." He laughs when she glares at him. "What else should I be practicing?"

***

They reach the building and duck inside. Chris checks his tablet and the team reports in: nothing yet. Leon's doing the least subtle once-over of Rose he's ever seen the man do and Rose holds out her arms and turns around until he shakes his head with a huff. Chris glances outside and catches sight of what used to be a lycan's arm crushed under a mountain of rubble.

"We need to keep moving."

They get back outside and down into the remnants of a street before Rose suddenly stops.

"Rose? You okay?"

"Rose," Leon calls, shaking her shoulder, "Rose!"

"There's someone over there," she whispers, and both of them immediately close ranks, guns at the ready.

"Where?"

"Up around the corner. I—I don't know what they're doing here."

"Stay behind me, stay quiet."

Out of all the things he was expecting, the truly massive man sitting in the back of a wagon was not one of them.

"Ah, there you are," he says, clapping his hands as though they're old friends coming to dinner, "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Please, call me the Duke."

***

"You're crying."

Ethan blinks. He's been with Rose and Chris again—god, he actually talked to Chris, and Rose, and he's overdone it, he's tired, so tired, but Eveline is sitting next to him—he's lying down, when did he lie down again?—and he's crying?

He swipes at his face with the hand that she's not holding and it comes away wet. "Oh. Huh. Look at that."

His voice is all shaky too. Eveline just keeps squeezing his hand every few seconds, the gesture unpracticed and uncertain, but terribly endearing. He lets out another shuddering breath and makes himself sit up. She grabs onto his shoulder with her other hand.

"Thanks."

"What happened? Is Rose—are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Rose is fine too. She, um…" He puts a hand to his head to try and dull the pain. "Something upsetting happened to her and it went…it went really badly."

"Was she hurt?"

"Sort of. There was this guy that was supposed to help train her and he just ended up making a huge mess…he made Rose really upset and then everyone overreacted—"

"'Cause Rose is a bioweapon."

"…yeah." He decides to leave out the part where the thing that made Rose really angry was the implication that it was Chris's fault he was dead. "I wanted to tell her that it was gonna be okay."

"But she is a bioweapon," Eveline says, and it says something that she's not spitting it or holding it smugly over his head, "she's not…no one's going to like her."

"Chris likes her. The rest of his team like her."

"Well, yeah, but they have to."

He frowns. "They don't have to. I mean—I think they have to 'cause I'm biased, but there's nothing that says they have to like her."

"But you gave Rose to Chris. That means he has to like her."

"I certainly hoped he would—he seemed to like her enough already whenever he came over, but there wasn't—Chris Redfield is a lot of things, but he's stubbornly loyal." He sighs. "I may have…taken advantage of that."

"So he does have to like her."

Thank god she didn't ask more about that, because he has no idea what the fuck he'd say to it. "He was obligated to take care of her, but I think he likes her outside of that too."

"But you don't know."

"I'm pretty sure. Like, 95% sure."

Eveline goes quiet while he focuses on getting himself back in this version of his body. It takes less time than he expects, mainly because he hasn't done this since that first night where he really overdid it, but also because he and Eveline have been practicing more. The pain fades almost immediately but the fatigue sticks around. Ah, well, can't win them all. He settles back more comfortably, bringing Eveline's hand down by his knee, watching the black river.

"Why were you crying?"

"Because I miss them."

"But they're—" she cuts herself off before she can finish. He frowns, squeezing her hand.

"But they're what?"

"They're happy without you. They're fine. They don't need you. Why would you miss them?"

He tilts his head. "She's—Rose is my daughter."

"You keep saying that like it means something."

"It does! She's my—she's my child. I love her, everything I did—I did it for her. I died for her, so many times, and I fought to keep her safe, to make sure she had the best chance at life she could. And yeah, I'm sad that I can't be there for her now when she does need me."

"But she doesn't need you," Eveline insists, the confusion in her voice the only thing keeping his heart from tearing out of his chest, "she has Chris."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right," he says, as much as it pains him, "she might not need me, but she—she wants me in her life still."

"Chris doesn't want you."

"Eveline," he croaks, and she looks away with something like guilt in her expression.

"He doesn't," and her voice is quieter now, "he…he told you that. Why…how can you miss him when he doesn't want or need you?"

He's quiet for a long time, playing the conversation he just had with Chris over and over in his head. Chris—Christopher fucking Redfield muffling his tears in a pillow as Ethan pushed words through it, if he hadn't literally just been there, he's not sure he would've believed it himself.

You should be here, Chris had mumbled, not me. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It should've been me, Ethan, you—god, you deserve so much fucking better.

And he thinks about what it was like after Louisiana, in Romania, and about how there were three things that hurt the most since his life went to hell. One was when Mia cut his hand off with a chainsaw. One was when he discovered he was holding his baby daughter's head in a flask. And one was when Christopher fucking Redfield punched him in the goddamn face.

"I needed him," he says eventually, "there was a time where I really…really needed him. And he wasn't—he didn't—what I needed him to be and what he was capable of being weren't the same thing."

He's crying again. Eveline shuffles closer after a pause, pressing against his side. She's squeezing his hand tightly now, not saying a word. He sniffles, wipes his nose and wipes his hand on his pants. He's not going to think about this now. Not while he's still a mess from talking with Rose and Chris, not when he's coming the closest to talking about whatever the fuck happened with that whole mess with Eveline, of all people. You don't dump that sort of shit on a kid, not if you're Ethan Winters.

"I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't be sorry for crying, that's stupid."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"I wish…" She trails off for a moment, then her head touches his shoulder. "I wish they could've been who you needed them to be and who you wanted them to be."

He thinks about it for a moment before letting his head rest on hers. "Yeah. I wish that were true too. Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No. I want to sit here."

The with you goes unsaid, but it warms his chest all the same. They sit in the quiet for a long while, watching the black river go by.

"Do you think I could do the same thing you can?"

"What's that?"

"Reach them. Up there."

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know. I still don't really know what part of my powers are letting me do that. I'm sure you could figure it out, smarty-pants—" here he feels her smile, just a little— "but I don't know. Are you—you're in the mold through you, right?"

She twists to look up at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well—Miranda was copied by the Black God, right? Then she made the Masked Duke and all that, the dude who lured Rose in to begin with. But you—are you here because of you?"

Eveline looks back down, frowning. She reaches out with her other hand and touches the frozen mold-mud. She slowly shakes her head back and forth. "It's…it's messy."

"How is it messy?"

"Feel it."

He reaches down to touch it too. It's slimy, yeah, but it feels the same way all the other mold feels. Just sort of gross. "I don't get it."

"I'm not connected here, not really. You pointed it out, I don't really feel things. I'm not—this isn't my mold."

Right. That's right. Eveline's mold was in Louisiana. This mold, Miranda's mold, is whatever the Connections based their stuff off of. Similar, but not the same. "Wait—then how are you here?"

Because if Eveline isn't here because of this mold, that means she's somehow here through her mold. But that wouldn't make sense, unless the mold from the Connections could reach all the way back to before they synthesized whatever made Eveline and her mold in Louisiana, which seemed…unlikely, even though they are talking about mold gods and not much seems unlikely when you start talking about mold gods. There has to be something, then, something else connecting the two molds, something allowing Eveline to manifest here…

…shit.

"Is it…me?"

"What?"

"Me," Ethan says quietly, "you—your mold brought me back first. Then when I came here, I connected with the Megamycete here, and…"

"…and then I showed up," Eveline finishes, "I'm here because of you."

It's not the revelation either of them wanted, but it is the one they needed.

"Does that mean that I could—that I could do the same thing you do? Could I talk to Rose?"

"I don't know, Eveline."

"…can I try?"

He looks down at her, at their hands wrapped around each other.

"Be careful," he says, and he's not too sure which one of them the caution's for.

He really shouldn't be thinking about stuff like this too hard, should he?

***

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ah, Agent Kennedy." The Duke clasps his hands. "Consider this an aspect of our first-class customer service."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I make it my business to know everything about my customers, but in your case, I believe you became quite well acquainted with a personal friend of mine in Spain."

Of fucking course they know each other. Of course they do. He shakes his head. "That doesn't answer my question: what the hell are you doing here?"

The Duke's smiling expression dims slightly and his gaze turns to Rose. He sees Chris shift in front of her ever so slightly as the Duke bows his head. "Ms. Winters. A pleasure and an honor to greet you face to face."

"I've seen you before."

"Yes, and I imagine not all of them were pleasant. You have my apologies for the actions undertaken my others carrying my visage."

He glances at Chris, who looks just as clueless as he is, and decides that's not something he's gonna worry about right now.

"Is he here?"

"Yes, and I can help you find him."

Rose is about to jump at the chance when Chris holds out his arm. "What's the catch?"

"Ethan Winters is a man who has suffered an inordinate amount of pain in his life. A great many powers have tried and failed to impede him." The Duke fixes both him and Chris with a stern look. "I would not see either of you join their ranks."

"You're—you're threatening us over being nice to him?"

"Both of you represent organizations with vested interests in destroying beings like him. I cannot in good conscience guide you to him were I not certain it would be to help, not to harm."

"I trust them," Rose says, stepping in front of Chris, "if you don't take their word, take mine."

The Duke's expression softens as he looks at Rose. "On that, Ms. Winters, I have never wavered. Far be it from me to keep you from your father."

He reaches behind him and places a small token in her hand. Both him and Chris crane their necks to see it, but it doesn't look like much of anything, just a small part of…a plant? A moment later, though, Rose's veins glow white and she gasps.

"Safe travels," the Duke says, back to the sunny man he was at the beginning, "and do give Mr. Winters my best."

***

Ethan finds Eveline on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and tears on her cheeks.

"Hey, hey," he calls softly, dropping to his knees next to her, "what's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Eveline sobs and all but throws herself at his chest, all knees and elbows freezing cold. He's knocked almost onto his back, catching himself at the last minute and wrapping his arms around her. She buries her ice cube of a nose in his neck and he hisses.

"Hey," he murmurs again, rubbing up and down her back, "talk to me, what's happened?"

She just shakes her head and sobs again. He scrambles for something to do—she likes being held, or at least she indicated that she wanted to be held, so he rubs firmly up and down her back even though he knows she can't feel it. Well, wait a minute. If she's here through him, and he's the one holding her, maybe he can do something about that.

He closes his eyes and concentrates. On the feeling of having a child in his arms, a crying child at that, of having them sitting in his lap, their head under his chin. On the warmth of his breath on their head, of the weight of his arms around them. The slow movement of his chest as he encourages them to take deep breaths, the pass of his hand up and down, up and down.

Eveline shudders so hard he thinks he might drop her, a gasp tearing itself from her throat as she starts to shiver terribly, whimpering as she tries to push herself into his chest. He holds her tightly, so tightly, murmuring reassurance in her ear.

"You're okay," he says gently, "you're safe, I've got you. You're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

He's glad the blanket is soft. To be honest, he's a little surprised Eveline was capable of making it, perhaps she pulled from the memory of the Baker house. Although, this one looks awfully familiar…

The realization slams into him. Rose has been having nightmares. Nightmares about Eveline. And this blanket looks like the one he used to wrap Rose in when he put her down on the couch.

Rose gave Eveline this blanket, he thinks with no small amount of glee, Rose was here. Rose gave Eveline something soft that she could feel.

"You're gonna be warm," he whispers next, rocking her back and forth, "you're gonna get to be all soft and warm and safe, Eveline, it's gonna be so nice. You're gonna be so warm."

God, and now it's slamming him in the face. Ethan was able to manifest here because of Rose, and with him came all their memories of family, of how much he wanted to be her dad. Ethan can still talk to Rose, and Chris, and Mia, because more than anything he wanted to live. And Eveline was alone, so alone, because no one who was supposed to love her did and she's been cold, so cold, and lonely, because she's just a kid.

She's still just a kid.

"Ethan," he hears her whimper, "Ethan, what's—what's going on?"

"I'm hugging you. You're in my lap, Eveline, I've got you. Rose gave you this nice, soft, warm blanket and I'm hugging you to help warm you up. You've been so cold, haven't you?" He runs his fingers through her hair—god, when was the last time someone touched Eveline softly?— "it's okay, I'm here now, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I'm—I'm scared, Ethan."

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

It's a long night—he assumes it's night, he always assumes it's night when he can feel Rose asleep. He holds Eveline as she cries herself out. Not to sleep, they don't really sleep, but she wears herself out enough that she just sort of goes limp in his arms, breathing softly. He keeps rocking her back and forth, smoothing his hand over her hair.

Fuck, he thinks idly, I think I'm attached to this kid.

In true Ethan Winters fashion, of course, he notices it when he's in way too deep to do anything about it, but he doesn't mind. Too much.

"Please don't leave me."

"Hm?"

"You want to go back," Eveline mumbles, the blanket still slung over her shoulders like a cape as she plays with the gloves, "you…you can go back. But I don't…I don't want to be alone again."

"Hey," he says, giving her a gentle shake, "you're here because of me, remember? Maybe you'll come with me when I leave."

"I'm gonna have a body again?"

"I don't know about that. Do you want to have a body again?"

"…not really. I don't…" She hunches in on herself. "People really hate me when I have a body. Maybe I should just be words and feelings like you are for Rose."

"Don't you leave me either, okay? I need someone to tell me when I'm being stupid."

"You're always being stupid."

"See?" He pulls her back in for another hug, making sure she can feel it. "I told you, I'm not leaving you. I promise."

"…okay."

***

She can feel him. She can feel him. She's going to vibrate out of her skin.

She can hear Chris and Leon calling for her to slow down, to be careful, to wait for them, but her heart is pounding and her powers are buzzing right under her fingertips and he's so close. She can feel him.

She gets to the top of a small hill and looks down into the valley below. Something is moving.

With a cry, she barrels toward it.

***

The sun feels weird after so long. That's the first thing he thinks. Granted, he did just dig himself out of the ground, but still. Ambient warmth is gonna take some getting used to again.

Eveline shifts just under his skin. She's not here here, just something he can feel if he focuses. He keeps his promises, after all, and he wasn't about to leave her in that flat hellscape alone. He manages to get himself all the way above ground, panting slightly as he looks around. Yep, this is very much a destroyed version of the village he spent a day and a half—was that how long it was?—roaming around, trying to get his daughter back. Fewer lycans than he remembers. Good.

Ethan Winters, very bad at staying dead.

He hears a cry from up above him. He looks up—

There she is.

There she is, in all her glory, blonde hair and baseball cap and his jacket, looking like an angel.

He almost can't believe it. Shaking, he holds out his arms.

With a cry, she bolts down the hill towards him and throws herself into his arms. She smells like gunpowder and that horrible industrial shampoo the bases and labs always used and she's crushing his leg and sobbing all over his shoulder and it's Rose, his Rosemary, he's got his daughter in his arms again.

"Rose," he sniffles, "oh, sweetie, oh, I missed you so much."

"Dad, you're alive, you're actually alive, I—" she pulls back just enough to scream back up the hill— "Chris! Leon! I found him! He's alive!"

He manages to tear his face out of her shoulder enough to blink up into the sun—yeah, definitely gonna take some getting used to—and sure enough, two more figures crest the hill.

"Oh, god," he hears, before Chris is skidding down the hill and wrapping his arms around both of them, choking on his words, "oh, god."

"Not God," he rasps, "just me."

"Ethan, holy fuck, you—Ethan."

"Well, shit, Winters," he hears Leon say, as he crouches down next to them, "guess your streak continues, huh?"

"Think this makes me three for three."

"Shut up," Rose mumbles and it's…perfect.

Yeah, he thinks as Leon gets dragged into the hug on the muddy, icy, snow-covered ground as the sun shines down on them, pretty fucking perfect.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Wolf Cub

Author’s note: First chapter of Thressl in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Summary: Waking up again is unpleasant and confusing.

Warnings: none? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Thressl groans a little, and opens his eyes- and wonders why is vision is so blurry. After all, he hadn't had mjod, and he also remembers that he didn't get hit in the head really hard.

But the memories of fighting that bastard chaos witch thousand son comes back to him. Oh- ow. Thinking really hurts. He had over done it using his powers, and the backlash is giving him a killer headache and blurry vision.

Which is. Not great. He's now more vulnerable than ever, due to the fact that his sight is absolutely terrible at the moment. While he can still hear, smell, taste and have most of his other senses just as strong.

Using his not-psyker powers to sense things is an exceptionally poor idea at the moment, he needs to heal from overusing his gifts and let his eyes and brain heal.

He is just barely able to see his vox device as he puts it almost on his eyes as he taps the signal for rescue. He hopes that someone will hear his call for rescue, and help him.

Rather than some opportunistic fuck-with wanting to pick at his corpse. Even though he isn't one and would give as good as he gets for such a situation.

So he just sits, and waits, and tries not to let his thoughts and doubts that he doesn't have consume him. Fuck he just wants to get up and move around- to try and find out where he is.

He's not on the same world as he was before. He's in too much pain for this to be a dream. Thressl knows that he's not recovered enough to try and break out of an illusion with powers of a rune priest.

He does try to Project His Will to break the illusion, all he does is redouble his headache and make his eyesight worse. Which is just fucking perfect.

Thressl's ears prick a little and hears some static, and a voice- says, "Apothecary Cedric of the Black Templars, I have picked up your call for aid. What assistance is needed."

"Ced?" Thressl says, "Thank the Allfather- where the fuck are we? I over did it using my powers as a Rune priest and I am damn near blind. My head hurts really bad and trying to move is like being drunk, dizzy, and on a ocean vessel in rocky waters at the moment."

"I have your coordinates," Cedric says, "Please don't try to move, Ramiel and I will get to your location and help you."

"Gotcha Ced," Thressl says. "Now- where the fuck are we?"

"... Ancient Terra." Cedric says.

"Grox-shite," Thressl retorts.

Cedric sighs and goes over ... the whole thing that he'd been fed in bits in pieces while he power walks with Ramiel to where Thressl is.

"... I can tell you believe this grox-shite," Thressl says. "But, forgive me if I don't."

Ramiel calls out, "It's not grox-shite, no matter how much it feels like it at the moment."

"Oh- so we are dead then," Thressl says, " 'cause you were murdered by your bastard of a mentor. Got it. That's why things sound insane."

"... That's not." Cedric says with a sigh. "We are within a mile of you."

"Thanks for the warning," Thressl says, "I can't believe that being dead means that you hurt and get blinded. Worst afterlife ever."

"We aren't dead, just displaced by the Warp. I think?" Ramiel offers.

"I don't think that's how the Warp works." Thressl says uncertainly.

He hears both of the Black Templars sigh and the red head turns to look, well his sharp hearing helping him hear their approach. Cedric and Ramiel are deliberate in their approach as Thressl squints at them.

Thressl has incredibly vivid long red hair that he keeps tied up in sensible braids. With a beard that's carefully groomed and braided with some metal beads that are carved with runes on them.

His skin is deeply tanned with hints of red, likely due to Thressl starting to overheat a little bit. His eyes are cycling through various colors. Sometimes settling on blue, sometimes green, other times red, black, purple, any other color that can be named.

Which denotes just how worried, he's feeling at the moment. "Thressl, I want you to meet Ramiel officially."

"It's nice to meet you," Thressl says cheerfully, as he tries to reach out and grasp Ramiel's hand to clasp in his.

Ramiel subtly moves forward and to the left to grasp onto Thressl's arm and gives him a small smile, "It's nice to meet you as well. Cedric's talked about you before."

"All good things I hope," Thressl says with great cheer and a teasing grin towards where he approximates where Cedric is.

He's off by several feet. But- neither of them are going to tell him that. Cedric is assessing his condition. While most of his battle wound are healing, he's got a nasty psy-wound that keeps bleeding, and the greatest concern are his eyes.

"We're going to have to wrap your eyes- and do some stitching and have one of the Librarian-Apothecaries tend to your psy-wound." Cedric says after his assessment and initial field patching.

Thressl make a face, "ugh, witches."

"Yes I know, you don't like witches." Cedric says.

Ramiel makes a half incredulous expression on his face and battle signs a question at Cedric [He's a psyker, a primaris psyker- right?]

[The Space wolves call them Rune Priests and don't classify them as Psykers.] Cedric responds in battle sign.

[What the fuck.] Ramiel responds in sign shaking his head a little.

"Come on- lets get you to the base and patched up." Cedric says out loud.

"Sure thing." Thressl says as he leans into their body heat.

Fuck. He'd gotten super touch starved being drop-podded all alone to do his Rite of Passage hunt. Thressl hadn't realized that until after he had spoken with Cedric and Ramiel and is supporting his weight as they walk.

They guide him to the medbay on base- as the clinic would be a bit... overwhelming for Thressl. And- since there are patients who are Chaos, or are bringing patients that they are Bonded to and are Chaos.

Despite how injured he is, perhaps because of it, he'd try to attack them. Blinded and half dead as he is. Thressl is quite fierce and wild, but that's what he was made to be.

Zariel comes striding over- noticing the new person that Ramiel and Cedric are half carrying in. Noting the banged up armor- and the patched up wounds.

Thressl starts to growl- smelling the strange First Born approaching him, his hackles raised, and teeth bared. "Ah- Thres- it's okay, Apothecary Zariel is someone who will help you." Ramiel says.

"If you say so." The Primaris Space Wolf says still rather growly and grumbly.

Zariel wisely backs off and Cedric sends the older apothecary an explanation of what's wrong with Thressl and the older Apothecary heads off to get one of the on duty, but not busy at the moment psy-Apothecaries.

Fortunately, they are a Loyalist, unfortunately, they are a Thousand Son. Which. Well. At least the Thousand Son is from before the burning of Prospero. Zariel does warn him who is patient is.

So Amonhep Rhan nods- and is grateful for the warning from the Ultramarine Apothecary. He makes sure to verbally announce himself as he'd been told that the patient's eyes were covered.

Amonhep pauses in his step- he'd been told that the Primaris he's to tend to be a Space Wolf- but from the way he senses in the Warp, feels very baby brother thousand sons like.

The youngling starts to growl at him, and he shakes his head. Of course, this little idiot is a Space Wolf- what else could he be. How silly of him to think he might be anything else.

"Please stop growling at me," Amonhep says firmly, "I need to heal your psy-wound."

After some prodding from the Black Templars he stops growling with a sulky grumbling huff. Amonhep patches up the psy-wound that was inflicted and informs Cedric of the follow up care that would be needed.

[femalefemur]

An Introduction

warnings: none, please let me know if i missed anything!

Rumours follow them like ants to sugar, always milling about and floating in the air in hushed whispers as they pass, even from the most proper and uptight amongst them, almost as if one can’t help but mutter about the 141 and their work. 

The 141 are close, much closer than most people and definitely a lot closer than the other priests, bishops or cardinals that roam the halls of the Vatican. They spend all their time together whether they are fighting or not and rarely seem to let anyone in though they’re friendly and will gladly talk to others, they stick together and have an air of distance about them. One supposes this could be attributed to the amount of time they’ve spent together and the things they’ve seen and been through due to their job. 

And what is their job exactly you may ask, as many others have, especially the newly ordained who watch the group of four men make their way down the hallowed halls, talking amongst themselves as they pass by. Well they’re exorcists, exorcists of the highest calibre, exorcists who fight unholy evils that many could not conjure in their wildest imaginations, exorcists who are revered and talked about in hushed whispers in the dead of night when sleep should have taken those talking.

They’re led by the great John Price, Father Price to those who welcome him into their homes in their time of need, who reports directly to the Pope and grins at the other priests as they complain about him smoking a cigar indoors and tells them to take it up with his boss if they don’t like him, knowing they would never have the balls to. He dresses how one would imagine a priest to dress, all black cassock with a fascia, red socks of his own choosing, though he also wears a pellegrina, not many priests do and certainly none of the others in his group but he does. Perhaps it is a nod to the fact that if he so desired he could be a bishop or even cardinal but instead he chooses to stay as a priest, stating that he has more freedom as one when asked by Kyle, the newest of their group. John was never one to care much about the paperwork that followed as one rose in ranks within the clergy and he certainly didn’t want the responsibility of a whole diocese, he much rather preferred being able to travel around and help those in need, his diocese was the world and he was happy to serve. 

The group’s second in command as it were is a priest named Simon Riley, Father Riley or Ghost as many called him for the way he blended into the shadows and appeared out of seemingly thin air. A stoic man, dressed in an all black cassock, fascia and socks that somehow seemed to be a deeper shade of black than the standard cassock. He also donned a balaclava, no one except for John Price and the Pope knew why, though the other two of the group would soon find out what lurks beneath and perhaps the reason for the balaclava in the first place. 

Next is the newest member of their group, Father Kyle Garrick, a man with features so beautiful he looks like he belongs on a runway rather than being a member of the clergy. He prefers teal socks, a contrast to the otherwise black monotony of the priest’s uniform, something that made him smile whenever he caught a glimpse of them as he sat or kneeled, something that was still his when everything else had been stripped away so he could be moulded by the word of God. Kyle’s a good man, a valiant man who had stumbled into something out of his depth only to be swept up by the 141, a little to the envy of others and the surprise to many more. Taken in by John Price and taught the skills to survive and fight in this world he had only just discovered. 

Finally is their sunshine, Father John MacTavish, a Scottish priest and the youngest of them though no stranger to the things that go bump in the night. A priest who somehow has managed to keep his mohawk much to the disdain and confusion of others, a priest who likes to wear emerald green socks that stand out against his black cassock and somehow make his eyes seem even more bright. He’s talkative and full of laughter, a much needed presence in the 141 and their work. A priest who puts everyone at such ease they’ll forget why they even called for them in the first place. A priest who is exceptional at his job, who fights with everything in him and won’t back down until he’s won.

The 141 they’re called, a name given to them by John Price and approved by the Pope himself. The number one symbolising unity and god, the beginning, the number four symbolising order in the universe, the four elements, the four seasons and the four horsemen, the number one once again to bring balance and keep everything in order.

This is their beginning and perhaps their end.

[alexanderwales]

Review: The Case of the Sleeping Beauties

The Case of the Sleeping Beauties is a novella that I wrote back in 2015. Ambitiously subtitled "a Utah Sinclair mystery", it did not make any significant splash. It's got 67 lifetime sales, a 3.8 rating, and a single proper review. Some of this is simply a lack of marketing: back in 2015 I had written some fanfic and not much else, and was still working as a software engineer. I'm not sure why I wrote this novella, or decided to put it up for pay (unlike virtually everything else I've written, it's never once been up for free), but I consider it an abject failure, at least as far as writing for money goes. Also the cover sucks. The whole thing is 20,000 words, so short enough that I can easily blow through it in an afternoon. Also (still) available in EPUB, MOBI, and PDF for patrons, but I don't have firm numbers for how many people read it that way, nor if it did anything to encourage patronage.

But is it an artistic failure as well?

There is actually another Utah Sinclair mystery, it was intended as a trilogy of novellas that together would be long enough (and coherent enough) to stitch into a full book with the three cases being individual "acts". I don't know the last time I reread The Case of the Sleeping Beauties, but my guess is that it was while I was trying to complete The Case of the Slaughterhouse Prophet, and that would have been almost a decade ago.

The story was written at a time when I was playing Malifaux, a skirmish game, and is clearly heavily inspired by that, though with the serial numbers filed off. It follows Utah Sinclair, a private detective of the yonside as he wanders around a rambling city trying to figure out where undead prostitutes are coming from.

Mild spoilers follow.

Prose

The first thing I noticed is just how much noir it's channeling, and how much is being put into descriptive phrases. Stuff like this:

The first human through the portal from earthside had found himself on the outskirts of an empty city, one that seemed like it had been cobbled together by an orgy of deranged architects.

Or this:

There were a few maps of Cathopolis, but they only agreed on the areas that the Priz maintained control over. Everywhere else was a geographical bedlam.

Or this:

He was the sort of person who was waiting to disgorge his thoughts, like a mother bird ready to feed a starving chick.

Or this:

I had a revolver strapped to my ankle, one affectionately advertised in the back of the penny dreadfuls as the Silent Witness. It was supposed to be a subtle weapon, but it was still a gun, and if I’d paid chits for it instead of pulling it off a dead man I might have written a nasty letter to the manufacturer about its supposed silence.

Or this:

It took me a moment to realize it, but he was dressed up like a Catholic priest, all in black with a white collar. Even if he’d been standing in the middle of the Vatican with the Pope vouching for him, it wouldn’t have been convincing. Partly it was the scars on his face, but it was also the head that had been shaved with a secondhand blade. The snub-nosed shotgun at his side didn’t help matters either.

I assume that this is channeling Raymond Chandler, since I read a lot of detective fiction when I was a teenager (my dad had loads of the stuff) and Chandler was always a favorite. I think the density of these flourishes could be higher, and if you're going with this style, it's better that it's liberally peppered in. You don't want to sink into the rhythm "normal" prose only to have a tiny speck of flourish pop out at you.

There were a lot of things that I tightened up while reading, partly because this is the easiest thing in the world when reading in GDocs, but I don't know that I'll push a change to the ebook, partly because I would need to figure out how. Most of these changes are fairly minor. There's an overuse of semicolons, which I think I was in love with at the time, a romance that hasn't lasted. There are a few minor tweaks that are just on the order of "no, the phrase 'mechanical fingers' might be misread as poetic, it should reworded to be clear that these are prosthetic". A few of the tweaks are just to reduce down how much text there is, making it more punchy, so "the Priz didn't tax any property that a person might want to claim in this part of the city" becomes "the Priz didn't tax property in this part of the city", and this is essentially inarguably better, tighter, cleaner prose.

Also I fixed some typos, and those do make me feel like I need to figure out the reupload.

Character

I think I've gotten better at character voices through the years, but here I kind of doubt myself, since everything seems fine in that regard. Utah and his partner Ralph don't talk enough early on in my opinion, and there might be a few too many characters introduced in rapid succession, which is a problem when they're not advancing the plot. Cyanide Sally is a bartender who owns the House of Skulls, and she serves a bitter almond special that's (supposedly) fatally poisoned one time in every hundred, and this is very fun ... but it's irrelevant to the plot, it's just fun for the sake of fun.

I do think that Ralph gets speaking lines a bit too late, given that he's the second main character. My advice to my past self would be that he should be getting characterizing dialogue from the word go, and that this central relationship should be better understood by the reader much earlier. And they should be more distinct from each other: the orthogonality thesis is that every set of characters should only overlap where there's something interesting to say with that overlap. Cover up the names and see if you can tell who said what line! This does not work for Ralph and Utah, but I think it does work for most of the other characters. And I guess I wouldn't say this is fatal, since it's not like there's some grounding character arc between our detective and his sidekick.

Utah himself is ... fine. Some of his characterization comes through in the narration, and there were a few moments I particularly liked from him, but I'm not sure that I could sketch him out in a sentence. He's down on his luck, loves to break rules, lies through his teeth, scrambles around and gets back up from the hard punches. I'm not sure that this is enough. A job should be more than a job, I guess, and I do get the sense that he's skeeved out by the necromancy, but ... well, that brings us to the other thing.

Theme

This is, if you squint, or maybe even if you don't, a cop story about sex work. It also kind of doesn't have that much to say about either of those things.

Utah is a private detective, doling out justice for people who can pay him. In real life, private detectives come in a variety of flavors, but one of the most common is just the pursuit of things that are not actually criminal issues, like breach of contract, or adultery. This is a criminal issue within their world, but it's one that no one in power is pursuing. There's some clear contempt for the regular cops from Utah, and some further contempt for the law itself, since he breaks all kinds of laws in this lawless world, including murdering two men, which doesn't greatly affect him. This is self-defense, but still. I don't think there's some great thesis on criminality or justice here, and the novella overall is justice-neutral, seemingly unconcerned with what's right or wrong, only trying to work the problem. This is maybe fine?

And the sex work stuff is seen through the lens of Utah, and this is also seen as maybe being just morally neutral in a matter-of-fact way, something that people do in order to get by, no different from working in a coal mine or whatever. And there's exploitation, but that's no different from working in a coal mine. So I think this story has a viewpoint, but not a thesis.

Does a story need a thesis? Does a little novella like this need to have something to say about the world and the people in it? I don't know, I guess not, but I sure do prefer when there's something to grab onto. I am a sucker for story structure though, and a nice little character arc, and this piece ... does not really have that. Utah is challenged, but he's not challenged to his core, and does not grow and change, and this probably fine for a 20k word novella.

I think in the end it's more of a "wouldn't it be fucked up" kind of story, and in this case I don't particularly like that, since it's not fucked up enough.

Ideas

One of the other things that I look for in any story is cool ideas, and this is one of the things that I like most about reading long ago pieces, because sometimes I've forgotten those ideas.

The idea density is okay, but I would have liked to see more. A weird fiction setting is a playground for ideas, and I feel like especially in the back half, there's just not enough playing going on. It is only 20k words, but that feels like it's enough for easily twice as many little fucked up weird things. So that's what I would do, include more fucked up weird things. (The part where they go to the manor is the one that stands out clearly to me as needing more fucked up weird things, there should have been some kind of magic sculpture there or a steampunk maid or something.)

Of all the stuff that I had forgotten about, my favorite was the necromancy lobbyist, a guy who just really believed that necromancy should be legal, but was supposedly not a necromancer himself. So he's just talking about like regulatory schemes and social mores, and this is funny. I'm glad he wasn't a bad guy in the end, for some reason I thought he was going to be involved in the plot in a more critical way. Instead, he's just a happy little academic.

Conclusion

Fun to reread, and no, I would say not an artistic failure. Definitely feels like it wants a second mystery to follow after it. I believe The Case of the Slaughterhouse Prophet is approximately half written, which with editing work means only a quarter written, but again, the numbers mean that there's just no way that I can justify that as anything but a labor of love.

I wouldn't say that this is the best thing I've ever written, but I think it compares favorably to the other mid-length stuff. Definitely would have been stronger with a thematic core, and with more cohesion between protagonist and plot, but I also think that's fine.

I guess, having read it after nearly a decade, I'm feeling weirdly defensive about it for no particular reason. It might have been one thing if it had just not sold, that's partly just down to the lack of marketing and also the market for novellas being bad. But it also scored poorly in terms of ratings, and on top of that, never got enough reviews for me to get a picture of what was not hitting right, which leaves me grappling in the dark.

So I'd say that I learned approximately nothing from this, except that I had some more ideas for a Weird West kind of story, if I ever end up writing one of those.

[deimos-awaits]

INQUISITORIAL DUTIES

Seraph Seraphsdottior does not only investigate the FDEF

Inquisitor Seraph Seraphsdottior swirled the whiskey in her glass. She sat at a simple wooden table in a plainly furnished room. Some inquisitors use their power, wealth, and connections to sit themselves at the seat of luxury while they dispense the emperor's Justice and mercy. She does not. This is a simple room for meetings with her retinue, anytime it was not in use in such a fashion it frequently also served as the location that she took her meals while aboard her personal ship.

She took a small sip and the burning liquid passed down her throat. She's not alone this night. There is another individual  just sitting across the table from her. They are garbed in the black and red robes of ruined and dead forge world. They have a mixing of augments in disrepair and hastily done repairs. They appear to be as disarmed as they can be. A humble laz pistol sat in front of the inquisitor.

“You were incredibly difficult to track down. Almost impossible, but not quite impossible.”

After what seems like eons of silence the robbed figure is the first to speak. A grating static filled robotic voice barks through. “To what do I own this honor Inquisitor?”

“Fedumamil Ronrok, Reflexive Disciple of the Virtual Cloister of Gryphonne IV, you sit here charged with three counts of technoheresy, six counts of murder, and twenty seven false cases of unlawful servitization.”

The cables on the tech priest seemed to tighten. “I have never once engaged in technoheresy!”

“Do you not deny the other counts?”

“I was an archmagos back on Gryphonne IV. All acts I did there were under the preview of the laws of that forge world and of Mars! You have no authority over me, Inquisitor.”

“There are three main branches of technoheresy.” Seraph picks up the laz pistol and lets her flesh eye drift down so look at it. Her augmented eye does not stray. “You learned them as an adept, what are they?”

The Reflexive Disciple takes a moment. “Innovation, xenos tech, and warpcraft.”

A ghost of the thought of a smile graces Seraph’s lips. “Good. Which is the least dangerous advising to standard doctrine.”

“Innovations. When done within and with human holy technology it might be permissible.”

“The second?”

“Xenos tech. It leads to bewitchment and spiritless machines.”

At the mention of the xenarite creed Seraph pulled out a screwdriver. She put down the laz pistol and put the other hand in her lap. Her hand remained there. “And warpcraft?”

“I do not know Inquisitor, such a thing was always beyond my ken. Damnation and rust was what I was taught.”

Seraph nodded. “Back on Gryphonne IV before the hive fleet emerged, what was your specialty? Your dominion, what did you do?”

“No doubt you already know, Inquisitor.” There was a higher percentage of static in their voice. Disruption and decay of the vocal processors.

“Yes. I do.” Screwdriver in hand she gestured at the pistol. “You were in charge of the creation of these weren't you?”

“The Gryphonne IV Pattern Semiautomatic Laz Pistol, we made it for the Imperial Guard and any planetary defense forces that needed the supply.”

“You were in charge of that factorum,” she already knew the answer but she asked anyway. Seraph never pounced without all of the information she could acquire.“How many planets received the pistols and rifles that you were in charge of producing?”

The techpriest took a moment to answer, as if their cogitators had corroded with the rest of their appearance. “Seventeen Inquisitor, and in case you ask three units of the Astra Militarum.”

Seraph took another sip of her drink, the burning red of her augment shining against her black skin. She did not need the soldier's courage to do her job but it helped her keep from shouting in the furry that so often damned others of her job. “Seventeen planets and three units then that you damned. You never asked what you stood here charged with. I charge you with technoheresy or warpcaft.” 

As she was speaking she had used the flathead screwdriver to pry the laz pistol open. Instead of the usual machinery that would fill the interior of one of the most common weapons of the Imperium, there was puss and low pulsing of fetid fungal flesh fused with metal. 

The priest shot up and lunged at Seraph. It shocked the Inquisitor, she had been right and knew most of what was happening when she had invited the Heretic but followers of the plague father were not that fast. Cornered dogs were often the most dangerous.

It didn't matter.

Seraph was faster and more importantly prepared. Her hand shot up from under the table and as Fedumamil Ronrok tried to approach, a pistol in her own hand flared to life and in a wreath of blue fire engulfed the renegade tech priest and destroyed their head in mere seconds. Volkite was dangerous but useful. Fedumamil Ronrok died on that spot and burned the table they had lunged on. Luckily the laz pistol burst into the volkite flames too. No words of condemnation were needed. They both knew the adept’s crimes.

Seraph just sighed and pressed a button on her belt. “Magos Hierro-17, please come in”

After a few minutes a much cleaner tech priest of the same forgeworld had stepped into the room. “Yes Lady Inquisitor?” this priest had a more nervous disposition and was seemingly covered in purity seals.

“Please request a new table and enact proper disposal procedures. “

“Of course Lady Inquisitor.”

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

Seraph smiled. “Thank you for informing me of your brother's actions.”

[valiantstarlights]

Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) AU

I'm still feral over Kuroshitsuji so we're gonna have a Demon!Hob and Nobleman!Dream AU.

yes, I know I have already written demon!dream and priest!hob, but I wanna have demon butler!hob and monsterfucker nobleman!dream too 🥺

CW: dark! monsterfucking! slightly spicy

So. Okay. To start, the Endless and the Burgess families are business rivals. Randall Burgess wants to make his father proud, and decides that the way to do that is by attacking the Endless family in their own home by himself and some hired men.

He dies in the attempt.

The thing is, the Endless didn't even lay a hand on him. The people who killed him are the very same men he hired to help him attack the Endless mansion unprompted.

In the thugs' defense, they'd rather be alive with only half the payment that Randall gave them than fuck with the Endless. Most sensible folk don't, and unfortunately for Randall, the men he hired wanted to live more than they wanted to be rich.

They tell Roderick Burgess that it was the Endless who did it, though, because why damn themselves when reliable forensics doesn't exist, and Old Man Roderick already has confirmation bias?

Naturally, Roderick immediately believes them, and gets his revenge on the Endless by setting their mansion on fire, killing everyone in it except for Dream, who he had arranged to be kidnapped earlier in the night. Dream is the closest to Randall in age, and Roderick plans to sacrifice Dream to a demon to get his son back. A life for a life and all that.

And so Dream is gagged, then chained to a sacrificial altar in the basement while Roderick and the rest of his followers do a demon summoning ritual.

Except the demon they summoned is Hob, who finds Roderick's wish tedious. A life for a life? They summoned him all the way from Hell just for that? Please.

If Roderick had asked for his son back, as well as riches and fame, then Hob might consider negotiating with him. He has always loved greedy humans. They're more reckless, and they usually get killed within a year or two after the contract is sealed, leaving Hob free to take up another contract.

He has already hit quota in the 16th century actually, and is just doing this for fun, in case there are some humans with interesting enough deals willing to make a deal with him.

But a grieving father with no need for anything else but his stupid son back? Hob doesn't have time for that.

Just as Hob is about to leave, Dream manages to get free of his gag and calls attention to himself.

Hob sees him, feels the murderous aura coming from him, and thinks he'd rather make a deal with this one, actually. He's prettier than any human Hob has ever met, and he looks like he has a more interesting deal to offer him than bringing someone back from the dead.

"What about you, pretty thing?" Hob says to the beautiful being in chains on the altar. "You got a better deal for me?"

And listen. Dream is smart, so he knows not to ask to get his family and pet raven back after seeing how disinterested the demon looked after Roderick said his wish. But he's also very much not in the right state of mind to be making a deal with a demon. He needs a therapist.

Unfortunately, actual proper therapists do not exist back in the Victorian era, and Dream is in the anger stage of the five stages of grief.

He saw how the demon looked at him with lust. And the demon isn't bad-looking at all. Quite the opposite, actually. And so he thinks, fuck it.

If he's gonna be damned for eternity for wanting the entire Burgess family dead, then he better do a good job and actually wipe them off the face of the earth. From Roderick to his cult followers to the servants, all of whom did nothing when he begged them for help.

Everyone who has ever wronged him is going to pay, and he is going to stand over their corpses and laugh. And if he has a handsome demon by his side with his hands red with blood doing Dream's bidding? Then all the better.

Dream sends Roderick Burgess his most hateful look, then turns back to the demon patiently waiting for him to speak. "Help me get revenge on everyone who has wronged me and my family," Dream says, "and I will be yours forever."

And, well.

Hob can't say no to that.

Vengeance is his favorite kind of contract, and the prospect of having this beautiful man forever in exchange for doing a job he loves?

Hob gets to work.

After, when there's no one else left alive, Hob walks over the corpses in order to unchain Dream from the sacrificial altar. The nobleman is still mostly clean, with only a few blood splatters here and there marring his pale skin and white dressing gown. They must have kidnapped him while he was sleeping.

Hob makes sure to be gentle with him. The poor thing looks like he's already been through so much over the past day alone.

"You okay, lovely thing?"

Dream nods and allows the demon to remove his chains. He is not at all alright, but the sight of viscera and blood covering the entire basement apart from the sacrificial altar where Dream is, as well as the feeling of the demon's gentle hands upon him made him feel a sense of peace.

"I want to reward you for a job well done," he tells the demon, who laughs as the final set of chains is removed from Dream's ankles. His fangs look so very sharp in the candlelight.

"No offense, darling," the handsome demon says, "but what can you possibly reward me with?"

In response, Dream wordlessly opens his legs.

After, when Hob has Dream in his arms, both of them still lying on the stone altar, Hob thinks that he could get used to this. He has always longed to have someone who only belongs to him, and Dream's deal--and how he worded it, allows Hob to have him like this.

Even if Dream were to die, Lucifer Morningstar themself wouldn't own his soul, because Hob already has it, and it has been given to him fair and square and very enthusiastically.

Dream shifts in his hold so he is looking up at Hob while his head rested on Hob's hairy chest. His pale fingers feel lovely caressing his chest hair. "Something on your mind, Hob?"

"Nothing much, my lord," he replies. "Just thinking how this might be the best deal I've struck in ages."

The best deal period, but they've only just met, and Hob doesn't want to frighten Dream with how possessive he can get.

Dream ducks his head in shyness, which Hob thinks is adorable considering how barely five minutes ago, the man was on his cock, riding him like an experienced equestrian, and begging him to fill his belly with demon cum.

So yeah. Hob really lucked out.

What he doesn't know is that Dream ducked his head so he could smile a secret smile against Hob's chest, sated and victorious, his hole filled with a copious amount of demon cum, his nipples puffy and swollen, and his entire body still shaking intermittently with the pleasure of his last orgasm.

Hob made sure he had a really good time, and Dream is keen to ride him again as soon as his legs cooperate with him.

Were his very religious parents still alive, they would be scandalized to know that Dream gave his virginity to a demon. So in a way, it's good that they're already dead.

When he rebuilds the Endless mansion, he is going to have Hob fuck him in each and every room. As a reward for his continued service, of course, and not because he's already addicted to him.

The demon doesn't know yet how many enemies the Endless family has made throughout the years. He's going to be Dream's for life, and Dream is going to be his in death.

Like a true Endless, Dream has managed to strike a very good deal, and made the other party believe that it was them who struck a better deal.

Hob might get very angry with him once he finds out about the neverending vengeance plots he'll be helping Dream with, but Dream is determined to make it worth his while.

"What's on your mind, sweet Dream?" Hob asks, one hand grazing over the contract seal in the middle of Dream's chest, which was glowing as red as a ruby. The light will fade in time, he had been told, but for now, he would have to wear thicker upper garments to hide the glow.

"Nothing much," Dream says, echoing the demon's words from earlier. "Just how much I'm looking forward to our partnership."

[crguang]

Cabernet anon again 👋🏾 🍷

I was rereading your post on when I asked for your thoughts about her and saw your list of your favorite ladies so far. I noticed that you have Adela and Oak Casket (they’re also on my top favorites list too) and I was wondering if you could give us some thoughts or even thirsts about them. Honestly anything you give us great so I have no complaints whether you lean more into one more than the other.

Can I be this emoji 🍷? I definitely be coming back to ask for more ptn stuff so think of me as the ptn girl lol?

HIIII yes you can!! wine emoji for my cabernet anon fits so well, welcome to the circus🙂‍↕️ i have so many thoughts about oak and adela, i’ll try to condense them so this isn’t a lengthy answer.

let’s start with oak!! my attachment to her is very personal and kind of heavy so i won’t say too much but i really resonate with her. she’s experienced death even if it wasn’t in the literal sense and is constantly around the dead since; she’s alive but she’s not. she despises the living for the suffering they cause and forgets that she’s living too. she spends all her time tending to the dead, comforting them, listening to them, making it so that their last regrets are put to rest along with their consciousness. in a weird way, she’s super comforting to me because she understands how ugly living can be. i realize that it’s a sort of twisted line of thinking to believe that death is true salvation but as someone who is scared of it, it makes the whole thing less daunting and in general easier to accept. she had to hold an official funeral for herself to put her past to rest and i felt that so bad😭 i looove how twisted she’s become by being a bridge between the dead and the living world, all she hears are regrets and all she feels is the powerlessness that comes with dying, so she’s obsessed with the idea of experiencing a more “satisfying” death through Chief and that’s so… delicious. and despite how comforting i find her, she’s kinda evil lmfao, she’s the reason for so many conflicts in syndicate from selling information and trafficking goods, and she’s not afraid to use those guns like damn. i always forget about that part because she looks so nice until she whips them out in battle

oak’s design is also one of my personal favorites in the whole game. i’m a sucker for religious themes in darker stories and the priest robes made sexy is insaneee. the cross over her chest, the stole, the gloves ughhh she looks so good. the color green symbolizing immortality when she deals with death all the time because the souls she’s let rest will forever live on with her. her eyes being different color (green and pink, opposites) because she’s at once dead and alive, the only link between these two realms… the black strands in her otherwise ashen hair as if she’s been tainted in some way and carries death with her forever— the cardinal directions on the altar because she’s essentially a guide ohh its so good. plus that ENG voice does a lot of things to meee it’s so soothing and deep, she sounds exactly as she should and it tickles my brain really nicely. paired with her playful yet scary allure it fits her soooo well.

needless to say that oak is insanely gorgeous and i need to feel those hands on my hair while i go down on her and she’s praising my enthusiasm like ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh she has the same effect on me as black swan from HSR where every time i see her i have to stop and stare for a while because i can’t believe how sexy she is. how do her boobs stay in that dress. they have to be so perky for her to not need a bra. need them in my mouth until they glisten as i pull away i want her so bad. i feel like she’s a reallll moaner, her voice gets deep and slurred and raspy mm… i’ll show her pleasure she can only get while alive, trust!

on to my BABYYYYYYY. ADELA. oh my goodness i love her so much it’s incredible. i love love love charming women and she’s the epitome of that!!! my first thought about her was, “omg she’s so charming” and she’s only proven that throughout her event. she’s so cute, so kind, so selfless and holds a genuine desire to help others. she’s not manipulating chief and after they broke her shears, she even looks out for them the whole time. bringing them back to her home, changing them, making breakfast, washing their clothes?!$(!?(!?! she just wants to do some good and escape her own troubles i love and understand her so much. i have an avoidant personality so i will run from my issues, if i could erase my own memories of past suffering i would do that in a heartbeat 😭 i really understand the need to eradicate all traces of your pain and sadness, even if some of it is necessary for growth. the analogy of troubles manifesting as long, long hair until it’s all that she sees is incredibly creative and it makes the audience sympathize with her desire to cut it all off despite it causing others pain. she’s such a soothing soul that people have no issue confiding in her, her presence is reassuring and she’s always so calm… i wanna give her a hug and stay like that for half an hour, she could cure me. her voice!!!! i was not expecting the british accent but it’s so soft and sweet. i could listen to her talk for ages, it’s a shame she never has much to talk about because she forgets everything.

i love the “character wants to help others but only hurts them and themselves” trope and that’s literally her. erasing people’s memories unprompted is insane, especially when they include people who mean a lot to them, but she doesn’t see the wrong in it because in her mind she’s solving all of their worries. it’s really cute but she lacks so much nuance that it affects her as well, she wants a peaceful life yet she cuts off her own memories whenever something goes wrong which causes her to forget about the places she’s lived in and the people in it too. she’s not living any sort of life, she doesn’t know where she’s from and has no friends, she isn’t truly remembered by anybody— she’s an empty shell with a smile on her face. it’s sad how someone who so readily helps others must feel so empty inside. she says she has no worries but that’s because she has nothing she cares about enough to worry over, otherwise she’ll snip snip it off just like she did her memories of Chief. she’s learning to feel her feelings and let them pass tho, i’m proud of her <3

what happened with her mother destroyed me because i relate a lot and would have done exactly what she did in that situation, she believed that she was a burden and failed to understand that she was loved (though that’s her mother’s fault) so she ran. my hearttt.

her design is also one of my favs like look at her!!! her hair is what drew me in first and it’s so fitting considering that it’s her whole thing. it looks so good, i love the colors and the stray strands that give it a messy look, and how it gets longer as she’s controlled by the shears like it has a mind of its own. i have no idea what that contraption is on her chest but the scissors are great, and the ones from her earrings too. the leather straps/harness of her coat are my favorite part they remind me of a (sexy) straight jacket and it ties into the whole “she creates her own constraints” thing about her that i love. all in all adela is sooo pretty, just stunning. blue and black were my favorite colors for over a decade so im really biased towards her color palette hehe.

omg i really love how scary she is with the shears it’s such a harsh contrast with her personality. her ult voice line is lowkey terrifying, no wonder she’s an urban legend; “shhh… i… found… you…” in a quiet, sing-song voice is crazy

since she’s more comforting to me than anything else slow, loving sex would be soooo nice. she feels like a service top (my kindred spirit) and she’d want to “ease your worries” that way once the shears are off limits, so she’d learn your body inside and out to make you feel so so good until you forget all about what had you stressed in the first place. she can’t use her blades but we can always scissor! i’m just like her so i wanna fuck her brains out until she can’t remember anything but the words “yes” and “please” <3 she deserves to be so overstimulated her worrying brain turns to mush. wearing a coat with nothing underneath is a choice but like oak, there’s no way her tits just stay in place unless they’re perky enough which kinda drives me nuts mmhhhhh i wanna suckle them like a pacifier😞

this ended up long anyway im sorry about that hhjhgdd but in my defense they’re my favorite characters…

[illarian-rambling]

Can you tell me about Anarac Fifth-Blood ?

Feel free to info dump :)

Oh boy, you've just opened pandora's box, my friend! My other characters have lore, but Anarac has lore. As in, he's part of Illarian Holy Canon. But let's get to that in a bit >:)

Putting this under a cut because it got hella long lmao

Anarac was born 3500 years before the present day in the city of Dualn, capital of the Araunian Empire. (Fun fact: his surname is Fifth-Blood because his family had lived there for five generations, making his kids' surnames Sixth-Blood). Now, in the current day, Araun is a wasteland of poisonous desert, their empire and people wiped off the map until all that was left is their ruins. However, back in the day, it was the center of Illari civilization. Magic was basically invented there, along with things like written language and agriculture. See, it wasn't a desert back in the day, but we'll get to that.

For all his civilization's greatness, Anarac was kind of just a guy. He married his childhood sweetheart, had two kids basically right out of high school, and then divorced his childhood sweetheart a few years later when she up and left after deciding that she wanted more in life. Anarac was left as the sole guardian of his sons: Finian and Baerdyn. Despite his heartbreak, Anarac did his best to give his sons a happy childhood. He gave up on opening a resteraunt and took a job as a market guard, selling sandwiches out of a cart at night to make a little extra money on the side. Things might’ve been rough sometimes, but he and his sons were happy. Anarac always took the time, no matter how exhausted, to run around the park with Baerdyn or to help Finian study for his school's gifted program.

But all would not stay well. See, the Araunians knew of the dark force that curled around the Illari solar wheel. They built their cities as giant compounds to avoid going outside into the starlight. But your average Araunian wasn't too concerned with this. Anarac went outside at night often to ply his food cart wares to overnight travelers. This never had any impact for decades, but it was only when he got too close an elven caravan that he felt a certain curious pressure. Anarac followed this sensation until he came across a ring of dancing figures, one wild dancer at their center. The pressure in his skull grew until he blacked out. When he came to, his hands were wrapped around the dead dancer's neck, the rest of her companions having fled.

Anarac, though he didn't know these words, was End-Made-Flesh. One of those cursed folk the godkiller End could channel itself through. The elf he killed was a priest of the elven gods. Again though, Anarac didn't know this. All he knew was that he was terrified. He hid the body, knowing that if he was arrested, no one would be there to take care of his sons. He tried to live life as normal, except that pressure wouldn't leave. Not knowing what to do, after several weeks, Anarac went to a priest.

In the chamber of the temple, as the confused priest read out manuscripts describing End, Anarac felt that pressure again as he stepped under a skylight. The Araunians revered the sun, so most of their temples had skylights, but in this case, it only served to let in the stars. In that moment, Anarac was transformed into a true avatar of End. His form grew huge and monstrous, his consciousness locked into the back of his mind as End took control and tore through the temple before the priest could reveal the truth to Anarac.

For the next few years, Anarac lived as a prisoner in a body that was no longer his own. End ripped through temple after temple, hoping to weaken the worship of the gods. Anarac grew desperate for a way out. When they fought at a Skysheerian temple near the shore, he managed to trick End into entering the deep water. The only thing Anarac could control was his body's breathing and he very nearly managed to kill both himself and End. However, End was wilier than that. It also realized that its flesh needed to be punished and broken.

End returned to Dualn. It sought out Anarac's home where his sons still lived, Finian doing his best to take care of Baerdyn so they didn't end up in an orphanage. Wearing the face of their father, End entered even as Anarac screamed internally. It then ripped apart Anarac's sons with his own hands.

After that, Anarac stopped resisting. He couldn't do anything but scream without lungs as End refused to wash off his precious sons' blood. Soon after that, the Chosen were created by the Illarian gods to stop this avatar of End, which is an important moment in Illarian history. They killed Anarac by beheading and both Anarac's soul and the piece of End that inhabited his body were sent back up beyond the sun's light.

End is sort of like a colonial organism. It is made up of many minds, and after he died, Anarac became one of these minds. For thousands of years, he existed within this being. His identity was all but scraped away, the only thing left being his scream for his sons.

It was only when another avatar was created that Anarac was sent down to Illaros again, along with other minds of End, to inhabit her body. "Her" being Izjik of Honor's Outcasts. Through the power of proper socializing, Izjik managed to bring Anarac slightly back into awareness as they were both locked away while End committed atrocities once more. I'm not going to spoil the end of Honor's Outcasts, but suffice to say, Anarac's soul was eventually freed and entrusted to the Illarian god of loyalty, as not even the gods knew where the souls of the rest of the Araunians were. (Some time after Anarac died, the Araunian species went extinct in the same event that destroyed their empire, but we're not gonna get into that).

He stayed for a while in the god of loyalty's heaven, despite it not really being where he belong and despite him still being too terrified to speak to any other dead souls. For the first time in millenia, Anarac wasn't under End's control. He hardly knew what to do with himself.

The Starbreaker gets involved when some scientists and a Chosen decide to send a ship crewed by ghosts through space to break through End's blockade on the solar wheel. They picked several souls they thought might be important: a star sailor, an astronomer, a cartographer, and a smooth talker. But one thing was missing - someone who actually knew anything about End. Anarac was the only soul who could fulfill such a requirement, so he was sent along on his voyage through space, too. That's where the story of Starbreaker picks up, which I haven't written yet.

As he is in Starbreaker, Anarac barely remembers what it's like to be a person. Pretty much any sensation terrifies him. He forgets he can move and talk under his own power. Despite not knowing his role, the rest of the crew of the Starbreaker do their best to take care of him. And although he's deeply scarred, Anarac does try to help his crew in any small way he can. He's prone to silent gestures of kindness, and though he's usually too frightened to leave the hold, he will do so if he thinks his friends are in danger, though usually with a hand over his eyes. Pash especially, he seeks to protect, as the young fae can be exceptionally reckless. One thing that does draw Anarac out of his shell is music and cooking. He has no need to cook on a ship full of dead people, but on music nights, he will nod along to the beat, remembering a distant time when he used to love to dance. Out of all of the crew, he is the only one who know the true danger of their mission. He's terrified, yes, but also determined to finally get one up on the demon that tormented him for so long.

As for his appearance, look no further than my profile pic! He has red skin, blond hair, and orange eyes, and as a ghost, is still dressed in the archaic clothes he died in, with a gash around his neck indicating he was beheaded. I also have this picrew :)

So yeah, that's my most fucked up of fucked up little guys. Starbreaker will see him come out of his shell a bit now that he's around other people who can activate his protective parent instincts with their sheer dumbassery. Sorry for the super long post, but I can't say I didn't warn you lol

Anyways, thanks so much for the ask! I hope you have a bitchin day in return for making mine all the better for letting me info dump <3