#we put that thing back where it came from or so help me

[prettydaisygirl]

boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who thinks he's cheating ✿ 1.8k words

cw: fem reader, reader thinks James is cheating (he isn't), James is a professional athlete and kind of a himbo, reader is jealous/a bit possessive of James, Sirius and Remus back reader up, angst with a happy ending

james potter masterlist

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James Potter. Your beautiful, wonderful, oh so sweet boyfriend. He is the best man in the world. Except he has one flaw. 

He is way, way too trusting. 

You believe it’s because of his heart, too big for his body. He carries his emotions like a badge of honor, wanting to be good and see the good in others. And because of this, your boyfriend can be a little naive. 

“Jamie, I just don’t think it’s a good idea-“ You’re trying to reason with him, but as lovely as James is, he is also stubborn. 

“I just don’t see why you are making such a big deal out of this, angel.” James is wiping down plates, setting them aside for the team dinner tonight. “Olivia is a part of the team, she asked if she could come!” “She’s not a part of the team, she’s your social media manager.” You argue, rolling your eyes, but James doesn’t let up.

“She told me she thinks you have something against her.” You stop for a moment at James’ words, placing the towel you just finished folding aside. You raise your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

“And her words are so much more important than mine?” 

James seems to know he struck the wrong cord when his shoulders sink a bit. “That’s not what I said. But you did ignore her the entire dinner last week.”

“I told you when you came home from that meet in Florida, James. She was all over you, I watched it on tv.” You hate the way you sound, you know James doesn’t see Olivia’s actions the way you do. 

“You haven’t really met her, my love. I promise once you do, you’ll see that she is just our social media manager, and she wants us to look good so we get more sponsors!” James makes his way in front of you where you sit on the couch, kneeling down to meet your level. “Just give her a chance.”

You really rather wouldn’t. You’d rather James listen to you when you tell him about your concerns. But you know tomorrow’s meet is important to your boyfriend, so you decide to swallow your pride and nod.

“Fine.”

You regret agreeing almost immediately. 

Your house swarms with tall, athletic men. You don’t know when your home became the pre-meet dinner spot, but you don’t mind. You find great pride in helping James and his team do well. 

Olivia shows up after the rest of the team has arrived. When you open the door, her grin falters for a second before she reaches out a hand to greet you, squeezing too tight. She eyes you up and down and you decide to attach yourself to James for the evening. 

You latch yourself onto his side, arm around his waist. His own settles around your shoulders and for most of the dinner you can keep the green jealousy monster at bay. Especially when surrounded by his teammates, laughing and joking at the dinner table.

The best part about James’ team is that the others have seemingly adopted you. Remus and Sirius especially, given their lifelong friendship with your boyfriend. You’re always with them, and you consider them very close friends.

You’re chatting with Remus about his new favorite novel when you realize James has been in the bathroom for a long time. Remus sees the moment he loses your attention, your brow furrowing as your eyes scan over the room, looking for James in the small crowd of his teammates. He isn’t there.

“Are you looking for James?” Remus asks, eyes darting around, and your expression changes, mouth pursing a bit.

“And she’s gone too…” You whisper, under your breath but loud enough for Remus to hear. He seems to put the pieces together right as you stalk off toward the staircase.

Your heart pounds as you make your way upstairs, toward the bathroom. You feel your head spin when the door is open and the light is off. 

Things get worse when you hear James’ voice. You can’t make out what he’s saying but it comes from the bedroom. You step closer, and the next words you are able to make out definitely come from Olivia’s mouth. 

“Why does she even need to know?” The words sound sultry, spoken slow and sweet in a way that makes every hair on your body raise up.

The door is cracked open just enough for you to see the two of them. She is sitting on your bed, her perfectly manicured hand wrapped tightly around your boyfriend’s wrist. You can’t see James’ face and you’re glad for it.

“Olivia-“ His warm, rich tone reaches your ears but you’re gone before you can hear anything else. You try to flee silently down the hall, down the stairs, and past the team. You’re two feet away from the door when Sirius steps into your path and you bump into him.

“Hey-“ He starts to greet you with a smile but it drops the moment he sees your face. You don’t know what you look like. Frantic, maybe? Are you flushed? Crying? You aren’t sure, all you feel is the need to get out of here. “Woah, are you alright?”

“I just-“ You take a heavy breath and move to step around him. You can definitely feel tears pooling in your eyes now and you shake your head. “I have to go.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you is Remus approaching Sirius with a questioning look on his face, looking toward the door where you left. 

You walk for a while, nervous to go too far. You turn off your phone, just wanting some space and to be left alone for a while. You stay in familiar areas, especially given how the sun has fully set now. Eventually you reach the park near your house and take a seat on a bench. 

Your mind races. You didn’t see or hear anything that explicitly suggested your boyfriend was considering having an affair with the team’s social media manager. But her voice, the way she was holding his wrist. It’s obvious that’s what she was asking him. 

There are two different possibilities here. You couldn’t see James’ face, only his back and the way he stood in front of her. Either he was going along with it, or he wasn’t.

You know James. James loves you, and he is not a man who is afraid of showing it. He’s always getting you flowers and little gifts, leaving you small love notes. Before he leaves for every practice he gives you an extra long kiss to your lips, then your forehead, and he whispers, “I love you, angel.” You know James.

So, why hadn’t he pulled away from her? 

It was that thought that kept you on the bench. You sit there longer than you should. Any other night, any other circumstance, if you were out this late and James couldn’t reach you, you know he’d be worried sick. Your legs are stiff and your lower back aches when you finally stand. The walk back to your house is miserable, your soul heavy with anticipation. You don’t know what you will do if this somehow ends with you losing James. 

The lights are still on when you approach the house. The only car left in the driveway is James’ so you know all of his teammates have gone home. That means Olivia is gone too. 

Your feet drag as you move up the steps to the front door. You know it’s unlocked but you get your key out and move to unlock it anyway, just to delay this for just a moment. Every second is heavy with possibility, your heart aching. 

The door creaks open and you step inside. James sits up on the living room couch and the two of you lock eyes immediately. The first thing you notice is that his eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, they probably ache as much as yours do. You hate the thought that he has been crying here by himself. 

James stands, and he’s in front of you before you can blink. He gathers you into his arms like you’re something precious and you feel the warm heat of his breath on your neck as he exhales shakily. You wrap your arms around him too, grasping gently at the fabric of his shirt.

“Angel,” He breathes into your skin, and you find your eyes closing. His scent is warm, familiar and comforting. For a moment, just a moment, you let yourself go, focusing only on how wonderful it is to be in his arms. 

His voice pulls you out of it, rough and scratchy from crying. “I’m sorry I really didn’t think-“

You open your eyes to blink up at him when he pulls back. This is the worst conversation the two of you have ever had and it hasn’t even really started yet. You hate fighting with him. 

“Jamie-“ You start to say something. To tell him that you just need him to tell you he loves you. But you don’t get the chance, he’s already speaking.

“No, listen. I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you,” The look on his face breaks your heart, and when his eyes turn glassy, you can’t help but find your own burning again. “I thought she was just being nice, that she wanted to do a project for the team. I didn’t- when she said ‘we’, I didn’t think she meant her and I, I thought she meant the team, you know?” 

“Jamie-“ Your quiet, shaky voice barely breaks through his rambling explanation. His hands move to cup your face. 

“Sirius and Remus already chewed me out, and I know I messed up.” He says, his voice cracking a bit. His expression is raw and a tear slips down his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words are barely out of your mouth when he kisses you. You don’t know if it is the intensity of the situation or the buildup of emotions but you find your knees weak and your grip on him tightening. 

“Jamie-“ You whisper against his lips, a silent plea.

“We fired her.” He whispers back, lips disconnecting from yours as he leans back just enough to look in your eyes. “As soon as I realized what she was asking me, I shut her down.”

“I know.” You tell him. And you do. You know James loves you, and you believe him when he tells you nothing happened with Olivia. “I shouldn’t have… run off. I just needed some time to think. And now you have your meet tomorrow and-“

“Don’t worry about me. I just need you.” James brushes his lips against your forehead before placing another lingering kiss to your lips.

“I love you, angel.” 

“I love you too, Jamie.” 

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© prettydaisygirl

[hedwig221b]

Do you know any fics that are in an alternative universe, like university, and doesn’t have the pack-world?

Let's see if you like these ones,

Maybe We Could Dance by In_Over_My_Head

"Stiles, get over here!” Flailing, he spun on his heel, searching for Lydia. He knew it was her who yelled, would know that voice anywhere. Seeing her standing in the center of the quad with a bunch of other cheerleaders, he took a deep breath before heading her way. High school had been a series of embarrassing boners and stuttered words when it came to her. College wasn’t much better, minus the boner issue that he’d gotten under control…mostly. Around halfway through his junior year of high school, he’d realized that the random boners that he attributed to just being a teenager were actually because of the hot guys in his classes. Like in high school, Lydia was still surrounded by pretty people, both male and female, so whatever it was that was about to happen would have a very attractive audience. Hopefully, he could get away quickly before he made too much of an ass of himself.

Unknown Number by demonicfaerie2009

Stiles has been texting his mother's number for years. He never expected someone to one day reply. Or The one where Derek has Claudia's recycled phone number.

all fucked up by endversed

You awake? Stiles sends. Yeah, comes Derek’s reply within seconds. See you in 20. Cocky fucking bastard. Stiles’ ex-boyfriend is a cocky fucking bastard. He bristles as his eyes scan the words, all too palpably smug, even in text. There is no good goddamn reason that it should have heat pooling in his stomach, his dick twitching with instant interest inside of his boxer shorts, his heart already doing stupid little somersaults at the mere thought of getting to see Derek, of getting to be near him. Regardless. He’s still out of the apartment and huddled into the backseat of a cab within minutes. Booty calling your ex-boyfriend might be a bad idea, but it's not like Stiles' heart can break any more than it has already, anyway.

in flux by endversed

"Fuck that,” Stiles says, dangerously low. “I already did the closeted jock thing in high school. Like fucking hell I’d put myself through that again.” Derek’s breath catches in his chest. Stiles is – he’s incandescent, entirely lit up with rage. He pushes back from the table swiftly, a horrible screeching noise as the legs drag against the floor. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he looks down at Derek with intense, narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry,” Derek begins to say. “Just – don’t bother, all right? I’m not interested in being your first fuck over the rainbow. You wanna hook-up with a guy, see what all the fuss is about? Go to a gay bar and pick up the first twink you see. You won’t find it hard.” “I’m not –” “Just leave me the fuck out of it.” Derek Hale is a straight college basketball star. He may need to reevaluate that first part when he meets Stiles Stilinski.

With One Touch, Everything Illuminates by EvanesDust

At the first touch of skin on skin, his world explodes with color. Stiles’s breath catches in his throat. Everything is so bright and distracting that he has no idea what to focus on first. His eyes strain with the visual assault, and he leans back against a warm, hard body while he squints up at the sunny sky. It’s so blue and pretty. He wonders if it’s the same shade of blue as his Jeep—like so many people have told him. Overwhelming is an understatement, and he wants to cry from the intensity. All his senses are in overdrive, each one vying for dominance as the bold brilliance of the world floods his vision. Cool wind caresses his face, drawing his attention to the trees dancing in the November breeze. Red, orange, and yellow leaves gracefully float toward the green grass, as if a friendly hand was gently lowering them to the ground. They make up such a beautiful carpet of vibrancy and texture, and each footfall brings a crunch that helps focus him. Once his mind calms from the onslaught, Stiles gasps softly, because if he’s seeing colors that means his knight in shining armor, the owner of those hands holding him so carefully, is his soulmate.

5 Times Stiles & Derek's Classmates Noticed They Were in a Committed Relationship and 1 Time Stiles Noticed by Survivah

In which Derek and Stiles are college roommates, and everyone saw this coming before they did. “How do you even get up there?” Scott asks skeptically. Loft beds are tricky enough on their own, he doesn’t know what possessed Derek and Stiles to push theirs together. Why would anybody try to create a king-sized loft bed in a teensy tiny dorm room?

Like Notes by hazelNuts

anonymous asked, "i always see you in the library and i think you’re really cute so i leave you little post it notes on your work whenever you go and get a book just to see you blush au" Stiles got the first note the night before his mid-term. A post-it note was attached to his laptop screen. Go to bed. You’ll do fine.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive

"He invited you to his apartment.” “To do a lesson plan.” “Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows. “That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

It's Always Been You by charlesdk

Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so. He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless. Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

Open Up My Mouth and Sound Stupid by Made_Of_Stardust

"Did you see the gorgeous stenographer we got today?” “Yeah. He’s beautiful.” Derek didn’t notice the slight echo or the fact that the reporters had all frozen in their spots. When Isaac bumped him in the side with his elbow, Derek heard the telltale feedback screech of the microphone in front of him. “Dude,” Isaac said. “The mics are working now.” In the unnerving silence that followed, Isaac unnecessarily added, “Also, I was talking about the girl next to him.” Or Derek blurts out his attraction to the male stenographer at a NCAA press conference.

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

"Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.” “I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning. “This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it. * When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard. Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

The Company I Keep by secondstar

Stiles has a favorite table at the library. Then some asshole comes along and steals it from him.

'Linski's Late Night Antidote To Lame by WhoNatural

Where Stiles has his own college radio show, and the mysterious, faceless Derek is his number one fan. Also there's this really hot guy he keeps meeting in the library who totally hates his guts.

Anything to make you smile by Oywiththepoodlesalready

In which Derek gets a new roommate whose best friend takes to practically living on their couch pretty quickly. Which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that said best friend is the same guy who's been holding Derek's table at the library hostage for the better part of a month. And, oh yeah, there's also this thing where Derek might maybe be the tiniest bit in love with him. Easy peasy.

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | feral Stiles | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles | somnophiIia | secret relationship | childhood friends |

[slasherslittlesimp]

BNHA/MHA- Siblings

Everything is complete chaos.

The building shakes as explosions go off, people yelling orders to each other. Apparently the pros have arrived and are fighting their way inside which puts everyone in panic mode, including yourself.

Eri was separated from you hours ago for another treatment so now you have no idea where she is. You can only hope she's safe as you run, your bare feet carrying you as fast as possible. This is your one chance to escape but you need to find your little sister first. You need to make sure she's safe.

You try it avoid places where it sounds like people are fighting- the last thing you need right now is to get injured in the crossfire. Though, in the maze of the place it's hard to figure out where you're going which makes it even harder to avoid fights.

Skidding around a corner you come face to face with a guy with blonde hair wearing a hero costume with the number 1,000,000 across the chest. It's the hero Eri mentioned meeting when she managed to get away from Chisaki. He stops in the middle of the hallway once he sees you, his eyes quickly scanning over your form to see if you're a threat. It's obvious you're not with the bandages covering most of your body, much like the ones he saw on Eri.

"Who are you?" He questions warily, his brows furrowed slightly. "I didn't see you in any of the files I was given."

"I'm Eri's older sibling. Have you guys found her yet?" You waste no time in telling him the truth. He seems to believe you as he physically relaxes, moving to stand directly in front of you. In all honesty you do share some features with your younger sister- red eyes, bandages covering your limbs, but instead of one horn you have two and they fold backwards over the top of your head.

"We haven't." He shakes his head. "The walls started closing in on everyone so I split off to find her. Do you have any idea where she is?"

"Probably with Chisaki- he took her for more treatments a couple hours ago and never brought her back. If I had to guess he'd be trying to get her out of here, and I'm sure his little minions are searching for me as well."

"I'm going to keep looking for her but I have to make sure you're safe first. I need you to run the way I came from and look for the group of heroes I was with. They'll keep you safe, I promise." He gives you a reassuring smile which does its job of comforting you. Eri was right when she said he was kind and bright.

"Please find my little sister and help her." With that, you take off running once again.

It feels like it's been hours since the attack first started, the heroes successfully making it further into the compound. You find Eraserhead by himself, Kurono's unconscious body next to his feet. The hero looks at you as he lowers himself into a fighting stance, his scarf being tightly gripped in his hands.

You slowly hold up your hands to show you're not a threat, allowing the man to get a good look at you. "Are you Eraserhead?" You question, your body shaking slightly from fear.

"Who's asking?" His voice is deep and it feels as if his eyes are glaring into your soul.

"I'm (Y/N), Eri's sibling. A guy named Lemillion told me to find you." Your explanation lets him relax slightly, though he keeps his scarf at the ready just in case.

"We weren't told about a sibling." He's confused as he takes in your appearance. "They did a good job of hiding your existence, that's for sure."

"My quirk is valuable to him so only a few people were told of my existence. He was afraid that if more people knew the more likely it would be that someone would try to take me." He nods in understanding.

"What is your quirk?"

"The same as Eri's only stronger and more stable. Though, I can't erase quirks like she can. I can make quirks stronger, heal, and even create quirks. Chisaki hates that I can create quirks, so he tried to erase my own but it didn't work for some reason. He experiments on me to figure out a way to destroy my quirk- he knows that if my quirk is out there that his entire plan of removing quirks is ruined."

"Why doesn't he just kill you then?" The question makes your heart skip a beat.

You frown as you think about it, not really coming up with a real answer. "I'm not sure. Maybe it would be more satisfying for him to remove my quirk and leave me powerless. Or, maybe he keeps me alive for Eri's sake. There's numerous possibilities for keeping me alive and I don't think I'll ever know the answer."

The conversation ends there as you both make your way out of the building. He leaves you with a few police officers before heading back inside to help retrieve your sister. The cops allow you to sit in the backseat of the car, one of them even being kind enough to give you a bottle of water.

It doesn't take long before you're reunited with Eri, both of you crying as you hold onto each other. Multiple heroes were hurt in the fight, one even on the brink of death. They risked their lives to save you both and you will forever be in their debt.

Months pass by, your sister and you living under the care of Aizawa and a few others. The pro hero is like a father to you both now, and Mirio is like an older brother. You had heard he lost his quirk and offered to create a new version for him but he refused. He didn't think he should have a quirk that isn't his own.

Now, it's Christmas and you're heading to the dorms with Aizawa and Eri to spend time with the students. You met them briefly before their concert so this is only your second time seeing them.

Aizawa opens the door a crack as he pokes his head in, announcing to the students that they have visitors. The door swings open to reveal you both in festive outfits which makes everyone light up in excitement. Eri is still confused about holidays though as she says trick or treat and then gives Uraraka some decorated eggs.

"(Y/N)!" Midoriya smiles brightly as he greets you. When you first met him you found out that he's the other hero Eri had run into that day, and the two of you had gotten closer since then. Eri absolutely adores him so he's around quite a bit.

"Hello Midoriya," you greet him with a small smile. "How have you been?"

"Great! I was really excited when I heard you would be joining our party."

"Aizawa said I shouldn't miss out since it's my first Christmas. He explained that holidays are very popular and often spent with family and friends." You recall the conversation from earlier that day.

"Your first Christmas?!" Kaminari and Mina exclaim with disbelief.

"How old are you anyways?" Sero questions as he moves to stand next to Midoriya. "I mean, you don't look that old. If I had to guess I'd say thirteen or fourteen."

You purse your lips as you try to think. "Well, I think I'm sixteen but I could be wrong. I was never told my real birthday so I just picked a random day for it." They all seem a little surprised at your answer.

"Wait!" Hagakure jumps up excitedly. "If you're our age then that means you could totally come to UA as a student!"

"I've never been to school before. It sounds kind of fun... maybe I can talk to dad about it later."

"Dad?" Kaminari raises a brow.

"Aizawa has been raising Eri and I for a while now so we've taken to calling him dad. Is that weird?" You panic slightly. The hero never seemed to mind you calling him dad so you figured it was okay.

"I think it's adorable!" Mina cheers as she pinches your cheeks. Soon enough everyone is talking about random things as they eat and relax. You sit next to Eri as everyone begins passing out presents, which you watch everyone open with a wide smile. A lot of the presents are really cool too.

Kaminari got a basketball. Uraraka got an All Might plush. Mineta got a picture of Aoyama which was pretty hilarious. Iida got gold bars, the most expensive gift. And sweet little Eri got a gigantic sword which made you slightly nervous.

You look down at your own gift that rests unopened in your lap. Slowly, you tear open the wrapping paper and hold up the gift to get a good look at it. It's a black shirt with a skull on the front of it, much like the one you've seen Bakugo wear. It's obvious the gift is from him from the way he blushes and looks away from you. You hold it to your chest as you smile gently. It'll be a gift you cherish forever- it is your first ever gift after all.

Hopefully Eri and you can experience many holidays with your new friends.

[domesticatedstew]

part 2 to my Mel and Breadhead bonding fic! This time they find old ass pictures from the early days of the Whale Belly Butcher shop :D!! Lovely idea came from @noodletime

it features some of my personal headcanons so if you're confused feel free to ask :>

"AUGH COME ON! Breadhead you said his stash was under here but all I'm seeing is dust from a century ago!!" Mel snapped as she crawled out from under the floor boards.

"It was down there last time though! Maybe Mud moved it after he caught me with his... whatd he call it? Moon shine?" Breadhead helped dust off his sister in an attempt to calm her down, clearly though it didn't work. "HE HAD MOON SHINE??? And you got CAUGHT with it?!? No wonder why he moved it, that shits more rare than a dentist here."

She thought about where else Mud could have possibly hid his goodies, but then something clicked. "Maybe we're looking for the wrong persons booze," She giggled mischievously, knowing all the places Ken would try to hide his stuff from them. If he didn't want his stuff eaten or drunk then maybe he shouldn't have shown Mel all the hiding places when she was a baby.

Breadhead knew it was a horrible idea, but he wasnt about to turn down the offer of ransacking through his dad's stuff. He just hoped everyone else would be gone for an extra couple of hours.

Mel began looking in every single crevice and crack in the resturant, with each empty hidey hole lowering the hopes that they'd find the good booze to drink and have to settle with the liquor they sell to the customers. It wasn't bad but it's just not the same.

They had searched all potential booze hiding spots and found absolutely nothing. "There's one spot we haven't checked yet," Mel said, determined to make this day off interesting. She stomped her way towards the back of the resturant, the rooms getting more narrow and tight as they got closer to the end of the whale. "Stay here Breadhead, I dont wanna get stuck back here when Dad and Mud come back home."

She squeezed her was passed some old broken chairs and tables, hoping that what she was looking for was actually back here. Breadhead waited for his sister to pop back out holding bottles of liquor, and dreaded the sound of the bell on the front door jingling when it opens. They'd be in deep shit if Ken found out they were trying to steal his personal stash.

The back room seemed to go on forever, Mel was desperately trying to shimmy forward but all the hope she had for a fun time had basically flew out the window.

That was until she seen a box, "I FOUND IT!! Breadhead, pull my legs cuz I dont think I'm gonna be able to crawl backwards with this thing." The loaf snapped out of his thoughts and reached into the darkness, trying to find his sisters legs. Part of him worried about not being able to reach her and Mel getting stuck back there for all eternity. That worry quickly went away when he felt a pair of boots attached to a pair of legs and yanked his sister out of the tiny back corner of the resturant.

"Wait wait wait wait don't hold me upside down!!" It was too late, Mel was now hanging upside down by her feet with the box spilling all it's contents across the floor. Instead of bottles shattering on the hard wood floors, papers and photos were strewn out randomly in front of them, a large photo album nearly landed on Breadhead's foot. "Uhhhh Mel? I thought you said you found the booze," He said while still holding his sister by her feet, completely forgetting he should have let go by now.

"I thought it was booze too but I guess it's just a bunch of random junk, also can you put me down now?" Mel started feeling woozy from thr blood rushing to her head and she really hoped Breadhead would just put her down already. Without warning, Breadhead flipped her right side up and placed her back on her feet like normal. It was difficult to not immediately fall over while her blood went back to flowing normally.

Breadhead didn't notice his sister's stumbling as he kneeled down to flip over one of the photos on the floor. It was clearly old and weathered, having turned slightly yellow, and seemed to show the Whale Belly Butcher Shop when the whale was much fresher. There seemed to be writing underneath it but it was so faded he couldn't read it. Mel kneeled down beside him and picked up a different photograph, then immediately busted out laughing.

Mel had to grab onto her brother's shoulder to not fall on the floor laughing. "What is it Mel?" Breadhead asked, dropping the other picture and reaching for the one Mel was holding. "ITS DAD WITH A WIG," She could barely keep herself contained as she handed it over. Mel's laughter was contagious, since Breadhead began laughing his head off too. He wasn't able to stay upright, and went tumbling down on the floor with a loud thud.

The picture showed Ken, still rotten and decayed but clearly in better condition than he is now, standing in front of the brand new resturant. All while wearing a long, brown, glistening wig. Neither of them could see where the wig actually ended since it was cut off by the bottom of the photo, that only made them laugh harder. "This stuff is hilarious!!! We gotta see whatever stupid crap dad wore back then," She leaned forward to grab a new picture.

Flipping it over revealed a picture of Mud and Ken standing over some poor rotling with cement boots. Ken had gotten rid of the wig (or maybe this was before the wig) and Mud was significantly less gloopy. Both of them looked a millennia younger then they did now, it was impressive how much could change over the course of a few thousand years. There was more writing on the bottom but not only was it faded, it looked vastly different to the written language Breadhead and Mel knew. "Wow, they've been doin' this stuff for ages haven't they?" It was obvious Breadhead was admiring how dedicated they were to the whole crime family thing.

"I guess so, you have any clue what this says down here though?" She handed the picture to her brother who squinted at it for a few seconds, but only shook his head no.

She picked up a new picture in hopes it'd be something funny again. "Dad had a girlfriend?!?!" Breadhead loudly exclaimed, practically in Mel's ear. It was a picture of Ken with his arm wrapped around a woman rotling, who was giving him a big smooch on the side of his face. He still didn't have the butcher knife in his head and he was clearly wearing something other than his apron, but it was impossible to tell what since half of the picture looked water damaged. "Damn, it looks like they had a completely different life before us. I'm surprised anyone would wanna date that guy though," Mel joked as she reached for a piece of paper this time.

Unfortunately it was all written in the same language as the one on the pictures. It looked like the glyphs everyone else knew and yet they couldn't make out a single word. "Ugh, how old is this stuff?? Let's just look in the photo album, maybe that one's more recent," She groaned as she placed all the pictures she was holding back on the ground. The album looked to be in a much better condition than the random pictures, it only had a thin layer of dust on it!

Cracking open the book revealed picture after picture of Breadhead as a tiny loaf, still in his first proofing. "Awwww it's your baby pictures! Look, it says 'Miracle Buns'," Mel knew she was never gonna let Breadhead live down that he was called miracle buns when he was little. They turned the page and saw more photos of Breadhead, a few with Mud holding him (Ken was presumably behind the camera). All of them were captioned with some lovey dovey message.

One picture really stood out, baby Breadhead being held by the same women what was kissing Ken in the other picture. The loaf turned to look at Mel, "Do you think she could be...?" Mel knew exactly what he was asking, "I mean she could be but unless she shows up out of the blue one day, we're never gonna know."

Breadhead looked disappointed, but it was quickly replaced with excitement when he turned to the next page. "Look!! It's your baby pictures!" There she was, a tiny infant sitting next to the much larger loaf of bread that is her brother. She snatched the picture book from Breadhead's hands and studied the picture intently. A mild panic set in as she realized what other pictures could be in here, she didn't want Breadhead to figure her out like this. Mel flipped through a few more pages with pictures of her and Breadhead, stopping on one specific picture.

It was of her first time helping Ken butcher someone for the resturant. She was standing on a dining room chair with the large butcher knife Ken always used, about ready to slam it down on some carcass. She looked so focused on doing a good job, of making her dad proud. There was more writing on the bottom of the photo, saying 'Baby's first butchering'.

Mel could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She handed the book back to Breadhead and tried to desperately make it look like she just got dust in her eyes. Her brother knew better though, but he also knew better than to bring it up.

"Awe, it's my first cementing!" Before Mel could look at what Breadhead was trying to show her, they heard the jingle of the bell on the front door.

In a panic they shoved every paper and picture back into the box, making sure the picture book was on the bottom like it originally was. They scrambled to place the box back behind the old chairs and tables while trying to not alert everyone else of what they were doing. Mel made sure to keep that picture of Ken in a wig, in case she needed something to hold over her dad's head. You never know when you need to blackmail your own father.

"KIDS!! Where the hell are you guys? Come help us, we need to freeze these things ASAP." Ken's yelling was getting closer, they had to get the hell out of the back room without making it obvious they were snooping.

"Breadhead! You go help them while I finish putting this stuff away," Mel yell whispered to the loaf, who quickly nodded and sped walked out into the kicthen like nothing was going on. She could hear some chit chat going on, but she was too far away to actually understand what they were saying.

She slunk into the kitchen, making sure to avoid all the extra creaky floor boards. She'd just pretend she was drinking or something, yeah that'd work.

"There you are Mel! Go help Ken with putting away stuff in the case, you know how grouchy he can get when he's the only one putting away stuff," Mud made her nearly jump from her skin, she hated how he could just appear out of no where like that. "Yeah don't worry I'm gonna go help, someone's gotta be out in the front to make sure you don't steal anymore scarab," She teased, knowing he probably would steal from the register if no one was watching.

When Mel finally saw Ken, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her from busting out laughing. That picture of Ken in a wig was never gonna leave her mind.

[soggyriceee]

Hallo, just wanted to send this request! I recently saw some of your König fics! (I absolutely ADORE them.)

And just wanted to know if you had the motivation to make another where it starts off as he's with his friend at a festival/carnival, and he meets Y/n and their best friend when they try to win a prize and they can't, so König and his friend decide to help the poor girls by getting them a prize and in return getting their numbers. <3

(P.S. You can end it in smut like if König gets to know her at the fair and eventually takes her home, or just end it in fluff! <3 I'd eat it up either way.)

—🌸

festival | konig | 18+

| summary; request , public sex, one night stand, oral(konig!recieving), protected sex(wrap it up guys we can’t have anymore scorpios in the world), konig has this weird thing about fucking you with his boxers on |

“okay let go to that one, they have big stuffed animals as prizes.” you exclaimed, pointing to the water gun tent. you were already dragging your friend to it before she could say much.

“oh come on we’ve lost literally all the other ones. how do you have so much hope left.” she whined, dragging her feet behind you. but you ignored her negative attitude, pushing forward. "if we lose this one, we can go back to our tent. seriously." you said, gripping her hand as you approached the line.

it was very short, only two other people in front of you. they were tall, pretty loud too. obviously drunk but it was a music festival so it was only fair. two days you guys will be out in the desert, listening to different musical acts, drunk all 48 hours, and meeting new people! it was you and your friends favorite part of spring/summer era.

"next!" the man called, pushing the two tall men up the line. you watched as they aced the game easily, hitting the center of the wooden dummies perfectly. "they're really good.. maybe we should ask them to win the bears for us!" you told your friend, already making your way to the two tall men.

"excuse me." you called out, tugging on the end of one of the guys shirts. they'd both turn, looking down at you. wow they were hot. facial scars littered their faces, hands too. they wore all black, despite the heat wave attacking you all. "you guys are really good, do you think you could win that bear for me and my friend over there?" you asked, pointing to the big pink and white bear hanging from the top of the tent.

they both exchanged a look, before one of them spoke. a thick, German accent, almost impossible to understand, came from the guy. "what's the catch?" he asked, almost as if he believed he was being set up. you laughed, quickly realizing however that he was serious. "t-there's no catch.. we just really want the bear." you chuckled awkwardly, rubbing your hand up and down your arm.

their vibe was very off. but you couldn’t put your hand on it. they weren’t mean necessarily they just seemed like they’d been caught up in some sort of prank or something. “alright.” he nodded.

you and your friend stepped back, watching as they again hit the targets perfectly. it was hot honestly, especially watching their arms flex through their tank tops. when they had finished, the taller one handing you the bear. “thank youu!” you smiled, turning to your friend and paying no mind to them now.

you were so focused on convincing her to do just one more game, you hadn’t noticed the two men still standing behind you. “excuse me?” one of them spoke, tapping your shoulder.

you turned, smiling up at him. “we would like to help you get more prizes if youd like.. m-my names Konig this is Simon.” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“wanna come back to my tent?” the drunk man would whisper down to you, looking up through his lashes to see his friend already making a move on yours from another booth.

you’d giggle into his chest, the faint smell of his cologne and cigarettes covering him. he took your cute reaction as a yes, dragging you away from the crown and towards the camp setups. it was a thrill, fucking next to so many people. but it was a music festival, what did people expect?

“after you.” he smiled, pulling his tent door open. inside rested one inflatable bed, a portable shower in one corner and a make shift kitchen in the other. a small trash bin and a few decorations to make the tent more homely littered the sides. “it’s cute in here.” you said, turning to the tall man.

maybe it was the fact there was more light, but you found him really handsome, despite the scars that littered his face. he smiled down at you, walking towards you slowly. "you're cute" he said, as if he too was finally getting a good look at your face.

he stood still in front of you, leaning down to slowly press his lips against yours. his hands found your waist, pulling you into him as your arms wrapped around his neck. his tongue slid effortlessly into your mouth, almost embarrassingly easy. “wanna lay down?” he asked, breaking the kiss and ushering you to the inflated bed.

you laid down on your back, Konig resting hills ed between your legs. “sure you wanna do this?” he asked, almost as if he was trying to warm you or something. but you didn’t read to much into his tone, nodding your head eagerly. “yes of course.”

his hands pulled your pants off your legs, tossing them to some corner of the tent. his shirt followed, more scars of his exposed. you tried not to stare, knowing it’s better to not ask questions like that, especially for some festival boo.

his lips met yours again, his large hands pushing your legs into a butterfly position. his thumb found your covered clit, pressing against it gently. it threw you offguard, most of your hookups taking a bit to even find it. “you like that?” he asked in your ear, not missing the small gasp that left your lips.

you gave him a nod, body tending under him just a bit. his thumb moved slow against your clit, pressing kissed behind your ear, down to your collar bone. “relax baby.. not g’nna hurt you too much..” he winked.

you didn’t have time to really question what he could’ve met by that, before your panties were being flung across the tent. he grunted at your shiny wet cunt, your clit so swollen and so exposed. it was embarrassing a bit, but only because he wouldn’t look away!

you went to close your legs, maybe thinking it was a bad idea. but his hands quickly pressed down on your knees, forcing you back into that butterfly position. “what? cant imagine how good this is gonna feel?… you’re so fucking wet how can i look away?”

your cheeks grew bright red, hands covering your face as the compliment hit your ears. “d-don’t say things like that.” you said into your palms, the smile in your voice so clear.

he pulled your hands away from your face, meeting your eyes with a smile as well. “it’s true.. mind if i have a taste?” he asked, already moving to lay flat on his stomach.

you hadn’t noticed it at first, but he was huge. like. huge. half his body rested off the bed as he laid between your legs, arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you in closer. soft kisses were pressed to your inner thighs, maybe a soft bite following after.

you walked into this tent with pretty low expectations, most of your hookups being complete let downs. youve had a few good encounters though of course, it wasn’t like you only chose bad sex partners. but konig began to do things that your other partners never really did.

he pressed soft kisses from your hole, up to your clit, before spreading you lips and sucking your clit into his mouth gently. your mouth feel open, a shaky breath leaving your lips. your eyes fell closed, feeling his tongue move in small circles against your pulsing nerve.

usually oral with other partners doesn’t last long. they get too excited or you end it early, not feeling much pleasure from it. but konig knew what he was doing. he wasn’t too rough at all, continuing the same pattern and the same pace that you gave the most reaction too.

“d-damn youre.. so good at this.” you whined, hands finding his hair, tugging it gently. he’s grunt into your pussy, trying to nuzzle his head deeper into you. his nose would press right against your clit as his tongue slid in and out slowly.

“never had your pussy ate like this before hm?” he asked, looking back at the mess he’s made on your pussy. his drool mixed with your own juices made your lips so shiny. his lips were just as wet, the tip of his nose coated in your juice.

you’d give him a meek “no”, resting on your elbows to look down at him. you pushed your hips up to his lips, whining as he just watched you. “please keep going.” you’d whine, his head avoiding your aching pussy.

“you cute… never had a girl beg for me to eat her pussy.” he smirked, taking one of his hands to rub his thumb through your wet folds. he could feel your clit pulsing when his thumb got to it, pressing just a bit more pressure against it. your head fell back, accepting the small amount of stimulation he gave you. “wanna hear you beg more.”

he pushed himself off the floor, resting on his knees. his hands worked to pull his pants down, his boxers staying on. his cock would already be hanging out of the flimsy hole in the front of the boxers, tip red. your eyes wandered around the tent again, looking back to see him already slipping the condom on.

shuffling over, he’d plop his fat cock on your pussy, slapping it a few times as your juices connected to his tip. “so wet.. bet i’m gonna slide right in.” hed whisper, already drooling for a feel.

while he was excited you were nervous. again, youve chosen okay sex partners, never caring much about length. but you always took a mental note of the lengths that were gonna be inside you. Konig was the biggest hands down.

his cock was not only long, but thick. his tip was fat, leaking pre cum as a long thick vein ran on the side of it. of course it curved just a bit to the left, hanging low despite him being rock hard. it was heavy, that’s for sure.

“j-just .. go slow.” you said, watching as he aligned himself with you. he smiled down at you, locing the nervous look on your face. “think i’m that big huh.. think i’m g’nna hurt you?” he asked, already pushing himself in slow.

you’d his at the stretch of your pussy around him, hands quickly pressing against his chest as a sign to stop. and he did, stopping just as his tip made its way fully inside you. your hands remained flat on his chest, eyes squeezed shut as you let the pain simmer down.

but konig didn’t wanna wait long. before you knew it, he was pushing back into you. “j-jeez konig wait a sec.. s-still hurts.” you whined, your eyes shooting open.

he was looking down, watching how his cock disappeared into your pussy slowly. pulling his hips back slightly, he’d push them back in, looking up to meet your eyes. “s’okay.. see it’s starting to f-feel good.” hed assure you, trying his best to ignore how your pussy was clenching down on him.

he was so close to coming just from that one actually thrust he gave you, and the look on your face wasn’t helping. your pussy was warming up to his length and girth, whimpers of pain turning into ones of pleasure. your hands remained on his chest, as your head relax into the pillow below you.

his eyes would trail back down to where you both met, his boxers slowly getting wet with your juices. he loved it. having some random chicks pussy juice on his boxers. he never knew why, but fucking through his boxers made him cum so fast.

“look… look how good this pussy is taking me.. she’s doing s’good..” hed grunt, gripping your chin to pull your head down. your eyes opened to meet the sight, the sounds of your pussy only adding to how filthy the whole sight was.

his thumb hooked around your bottom row of teeth, forcing you to watch and listen to his good you were taking him. “s’big huh? s’ a big dick..” hed pant, already knowing your answer. when you gave him a rapid nod of the head, he’d tsk, letting your jaw go only to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. you’d notice how blown his pupils were, how wet and red his lips were. “use your words baby..”

“y-yes it’s.. it’s so good” you babbled, feeling how his tip abused right at your poor cervix. your legs were hooked arouns his hips, hands now gripping the thin sheet beneath you. it was such a painfully good feeling, your mind was completely blank.

konig watched you from above, your tits bouncing in the right shirt he let you keep on. your nipples were erect through the thin layer, making the big man let out a small whimper, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “shit m’close..”

the sounds of music and other festival goers were muffled from inside the tent, the noises coming from you both surely covered. your head pressed firmly into the pillow below you as your body put all its focus and attention to the giy splitting you in half. you felt so full of the stranger, you were beginning to consider getting his number after.

his tip continued its abuse on your poor cervix, his cock getting painted in your creamy juices. his eyes were fixated on his cock pushing it’s way into those tight wet walls, mouth hung ajar as spit dribbled from him. “w..wanna cum.. so close~” you whined, hands scrambling to his his chest again.

what you liked about this man, was that instead of changing that pace he kept it the same, only pushing your leg up to your chest to allow him to fuck deeper into you. “lemme see it baby.. lemme see you cream all over this cock..” he groaned, taking his other hand to cup your warm cheek.

his words and movements allowed you to come undone for him, legs pulling his waist in closer to you, deeper. the cute little whines you let escape from you only made his cock twitch inside you, coming as his head plopped into your chest, biting your clothes nipple throufh the shirt.

your chests rose and fell in synch, silence filling the room as you both relaxed. you felt him soften inside you, the condom still holding on. his hands found your waist, snaking up them as to hold you.

he’d pull out of you with a small whimper, resting his softened, condom covered cock on your cunt. his teeth let your nipple go, his lips leaving a small kiss on them before resting his chin on your chest. “how was it?”

you smiled softly, letting out a breathy chuckle. “it was great.. really great.” he smiled proudly, before pushing himself up and off you, peeling the condom off and tossing it in a random plastic bag. you began to rise, stretching a bit as your eyes made contact with your clothes.

“you should stay.. it’s already pretty late..” he said, tucking his still softening cock into his boxers, pants kicked off from when he tossed the condom. you weren’t opposed at all, legs sore anyways to look for your setup.

he’d lay beside you, pulling you into his chest as if you both had done this before. it was weird, his presence and character didn’t feel like he was a stranger, but maybe that was simply because he was just deep inside you.

aghh i’m so sorry this took forever, finals are coming up and my job is like.. scheduling me??? and i’m TIREDDD

[coffeeghoulie]

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 4: i will never believe in anything again

so it's been a while, huh? I spent the last month or so working on another project, and that's finished and earned approval from the people I wanted it from, so it's finally time to give you all this. since it's been a hot minute, I am linking chapters one, two, and three if you need to get caught up or refresh your memory. Thanks for sticking with me!

Contains reconciliation and what it means to forgive. The bittersweet thought of making peace with where you came from. Bonding moments and coming home. Walking the lines between dreams and religious visions. A return to faith. Becoming someone you were always meant to be. 15.2k.

I hate to put this on hold again, but I will be working on Chapter 5 after Mushy May. To tide you over until then, I do recommend reading (or rereading, if it's been a while) Eternal Heatstroke. It'll make some things in chapter 5 make a little more sense ;)

Much thanks again to @mintea-in-space for all of the Cardinal Consulting <3

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

All things considered, Aurum knows what it’s like to walk on eggshells. He falls back into old, painfully familiar patterns after the fight and the Cardinal’s too-gentle scolding. He makes himself as small as he can in the already cramped bus and backstage.

Thankfully, the vitriol lessens with time, as slowly as it may come. The Cardinal had told them all to apologize, but so far, everyone’s been avoiding the behemoth in the room, and it’s not affecting the shows. At least, as far as Aurum can tell from up on his platform.

It hurts, a little bit, to be so alone up there while he watches the rest of them interact and fool around. But he knows what he’s done. He does not blame them one bit.

He slips into old habits, makes himself quiet and as still as he can manage until the lights go on and the Rituals begin. The moment he walks backstage after bows, he tucks all of himself back into that little shell, minds his own business as he changes and cleans up and helps tear down. It makes him sick to think about how comfortable it is to confine himself again.

But he does it, because he does not want to risk going back. That will kill him, and he will take the half life over that.

He hops off of his platform and follows the Cardinal out of sight of this gathered crowd as Miasma starts. It is dark and warm with body heat backstage, despite being away from the blinding spotlights. It is a reprieve, gets most of the eyes off of him. Aurum knows he has no real room to complain about the attention, knows that it is his duty, the reason he is Up Top.

But it doesn’t mean the quiet doesn’t go unappreciated.

He moves quickly, helping the Cardinal change from one tight suit to another. The Cardinal looks back to the stage entrance, and there’s a look that Aurum recognizes in those two toned eyes.

“I imagine-” he says, words catching in his throat. The Cardinal head whips back to him. The Eye burns the crown of his head even through the balaclava and chrome mask. “Forgive me, Cardinal.”

“Bah, enough of that,” he says, waving a gloved hand in Aurum’s direction. He helps him step back into his shining leather shoes. “No more of the formalities, my ghoul. I think we are past that point, no? Call me Copia.”

This change has gone much faster than normal, still a few minutes left before Miasma ends. Nihil’s corpse hasn’t even been hauled on stage yet to be resuscitated.

Aurum’s brow furrows as he takes in the Cardinal’s words. “Thought I was in your service,” he says, waiting for the Cardinal to gesture and wave him back to his feet from where he’s crouched. “Thought it was respect or something.”

“I think, out here, I am not your superior. We all are part of the show. We are a team, no?”

Aurum nods and straightens his suspenders from where they’re slipping off of one of his shoulders. “I suppose so.”

The Cardinal- no, Copia takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders. They wait together in the dark. “Have you spoken to the others yet? About the, eh, disagreement?”

That’s sure putting it lightly. “Not yet, Copia,” Aurum breaks eye contact. “I, uh, a little too nervous yet.”

“But you’re so cool and composed out there,” Copia knocks a fist loosely against Aurum’s shoulder. Teasing, or at least, trying to.

“Yeah,” Aurum tries to flash a smile. The mask hides just how unconvincing it feels. The two of them settle back into near silence, the speakers making dust spill from the ceiling as the bass rattles the entire building.

He’s struck by a burst of curiosity. Guilt and shame come up with it like acid at the back of his throat. “Copia?” he tests, shifting a little on his feet.

“My ghoul?”

“I think you know I’m not exactly religious,” Aurum says, carefully watching his own tone, trying to keep it neutral. “I’m doing my best to keep up with the rest of you doing all of this. But do you think He makes mistakes?”

Copia laughs. It sounds relieved, Aurum thinks. “I think He does. I deeply believe that He is fallible. But I believe, just like His children, He does His best. We are made in His image, after all, and He has never once claimed to be perfect. We cannot expect perfection from ourselves.”

Aurum takes a deep breath. His head spins. He convinces himself that it’s just too hot back here. “That, that’s not exactly what I was led to believe,” he mutters, rolling up his sleeves to counteract the heat. Aurum crosses his arms over his chest, scuffs his shoe against the concrete like a petulant kit. “Not really reassuring, either.”

“We all make mistakes, Multi,” Copia says, setting a gloved hand on his shoulder. “But the difference between the Olde One and His Forsaker is that one mistake will never bring about the end times. I don’t know who taught you that He demands perfection, but the Prince knows we are flawed and accepts that of us. He knows we cannot be perfect.”

“One mistake won’t,” he breathes. Aurum slips somewhere in his mind he doesn’t want to be. Imagines voices he hasn’t heard in centuries. “But if we keep making mistakes? Or we know we’re doing bad things and keep doing them anyways?”

“Then there are consequences,” Copia shrugs. “Real, earthly consequences. My predecessors made mistakes. And the Clergy… removed them from power, so to say. But that’s not exactly a fair example. I don’t know how much the Serpent Deceiver tipped those scales. But if we know we’re doing bad things, we cannot be surprised when they come to bite us.”

“And if they kept happening, over and over again, and the consequences never came? If they got away with it?”

The Eye stares right into his very core.

“Oh. I see.”

Aurum’s not exactly sure what Copia’s seen. Something deeply vulnerable that Aurum’s never said aloud, no doubt. Nihil’s saxophone blares, and both men startle, starting to head back to places.

Copia leans in, and just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, he whispers. “For what it’s worth, Multi, I pray that consequences will come. For whoever made those mistakes. I pray that He sees.”

Aurum takes a shaky breath. Shakes out his hands. “Thank you, Copia.”

The Cardinal flashes him a smile and the show goes on.

The days pass in the buzz of a busy routine, travel during the days, put on a show at night, pile back on the bus to do it again in a brand new city. Aurum’s reminded of walking the Circles, seeing all these new places, even if this time it’s through the blur of motion on endless stretches of highways.

It takes a toll on all of them, and Aurum even more so, still walking on eggshells as to not provoke another blowout fight. There’s a little voice that itches to poke the bear, the same one that’s always whispered to him, but he’s so exhausted that it’s easy to ignore it.

Aurum is quick to learn and appreciate the reprieve of a hotel night, rooms randomly assigned but outfitted with actual, full beds that blow the size of the bus bunks out of the water. It’s been a little dicey since the fight, but everyone is equally ready to just pass out on a comfortable mattress that there hasn’t been any room sharing incidents.

Copia hands out keycards in the lobby of a hotel in some city that Aurum can’t remember the name of and can’t be bothered to try. Distantly, he sees Copia hand the matching card to Dew and winces.

Inconsiderate son of a bitch rings through his mind, a phrase yelled in several different voices, and he shakes his head to rid himself of the intrusive memory.

Dew pays him no mind. The fire ghoul rolls his shoulders, careful not to disturb the duffle bag bigger than his torso slung over one of them. Aurum watches him glance to Mountain, and then to Aether.

He must feel Aurum staring, because he turns to meet his eyes, blue and burning through the human glamour he’s wearing. Aether follows his mate’s gaze, and there’s no mistaking the anger there. Aurum looks away as the pack breaks for the elevators. Copia’d been saying something, but it’s lost to him.

Aurum reshoulders his own bag and follows the pack.

To very little surprise, Dew doesn’t go to the room number they’ve been assigned. Instead, he follows Aether into his and Mountain’s room. “I’ll be back after a while,” he says nonchalantly as he passes Aurum. He nods, lowers his head and unlocks the door.

Two queen beds. A nightstand. A dresser. The door to the adjoining bathroom. Nothing new here. Aurum sets his bag down on the bed furthest from the door. He's not worried about waiting up for the smaller ghoul. Dew's got his own keycard. It'll be fine.

The hotel room is identical to the dozen others Aurum's been in since he and the others left on this tour. He tosses his bag onto the far bed, grabbing his toiletries and ducking into the bathroom. Dew's not here to bitch at him about hogging the shower, he might as well take advantage of it.

The heat of the spray makes Aurum groan, eyes fluttering shut as long tense muscles start to relax. He's been wound up for so long, his back protests as the water hits it. The tile warms under his feet. He can feel every drop trail down his body, the pressure and heat blissful.

If he were feeling particularly sacrilegious, he’d call it heavenly.

He doesn't know how much time he spends in the shower. He washes his locs thoroughly, fills the bathroom with the scent of the hotel-supplied soap on the steam, scrubs the grime of touring from his body. Aurum even lets go of his glamour, carefully washing his horns and claws.

He goes to wash his face and winces at the sharp scrape of stubble against his palms. He doesn’t mind the stubble normally, but for some reason, right now, the sensation is driving him up the wall. There’s a razor in his bag, figures now is as good a time as any to shave.

Aurum turns off the shower, the pipes creaking as the water stops. He squeezes water from his locs, dries off perfunctorily before wrapping the towel around his waist. The steam billows out after him as he steps into the main room. He shivers against the air conditioning as he grabs his razor and shaving cream, stepping into a pair of boxers, because of course he forgot to grab his clothes.

Dew hasn’t come back yet, the second bed on the far side of the room still made pristinely, almost military. No trace of him or his belongings. Aurum just shrugs and steps back into the bathroom. No reason to be worried quite yet. He takes his time shaving, making sure he catches every last bit of stubble.

It’d been starting to itch, drive him a little crazy. But the feeling of smooth skin lifts a little bit of weight from his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, floods his lungs with sandalwood and steam, and rinses his face clear.

The mirror’s been steadily clearing, a rush of cooler air from the main hotel room fighting against the steam from the shower.

When Aurum lifts his head from the sink, water droplets rolling down his cheeks, he meets someone else’s eyes in the mirror.

The razor clatters in the basin of the sink. All Aurum can hear is ragged breathing. He grips the porcelain so tightly he fears his strength will leak through his glamour and shatter it. But that’s all an afterthought.

None of it matters.

Because Ignis is staring right back back at him.

His baby sister’s all grown up from the very last time Aurum had seen her. Her eyes are wide, lips parted. Damp locs falling loose down her bare shoulders.

The shred of logic left in Aurum’s brain reminds him that of fucking course he sees her in his own reflection, they’re siblings, they looked alike once upon a time, they share the same features. But Aurum can’t look away.

The barrage of every single emotion he’s pushed away for centuries hits him. Pins him in place like an insect on a corkboard. All of the guilt and anger and fear. He’d betrayed her and Tilly when he’d left home. Willed himself not to think of them and his ultimate, unforgivable sin.

He doesn’t know what happened to his sisters after he wasn’t there to take the brunt of Pyra’s anger for them, and the thought makes his stomach churn violently. Had they been able to hold up perfection like a shield the way he never could? What had he doomed them to? What had happened to his sisters?

Iggy keeps staring at him in the mirror. His eyes are going dry but he can’t blink. He thought he’d never see her again and here she is and she hates him, panic and fear bright in her eyes.

Aurum shakes his head hard.

Iggy shakes her head at him and then she’s gone, and he’s just left with his own reflection. He pushes back from the sink before he sees anyone else in his own features, stumbling back into the main room. There’s a pair of scissors in his bag. He’s not quite sure where he picked them up from, but that doesn’t matter.

He needs to cut off his locs and he needs to do it right this fucking second.

It’s how Iggy’d worn her hair their entire lives until he’d left her behind in that hell. He doesn’t want the reminder of what he’s done any more. He can’t bear it. He doesn’t know if he’s going to vomit or just straight up shatter into a trillion tiny shards for the ghouls to sweep up when they find him.

He finds the scissors shoved into his bag, the metal sharp and silver and shining in the lamp light, and rushes back into the bathroom. The door creaks, but Aurum can’t hear it over the sound of blood moving with his hammering pulse.

Aurum gathers up all of his locs, opens the scissors with a squeak from the hinge. He takes a deep breath and goes to close the scissors just above his shoulders.

Someone clears their throat behind him.

He freezes. Muscles tense almost to the point of pain. Aurum blinks back into his body. Feels eyes on the back of his neck. He does not look away from the mirror, but sees someone standing in the threshold to the bathroom in the reflection.

“Whoever it is you see in there, doing that isn’t going to make them go away. Believe me.”

Dew’s voice is rough, and so, so tired. His thin lips quirk up in a sad smile. He gestures halfheartedly to his own hair, where the copper strands rest choppily against his shoulders. Dew smiles sadly.

Aurum looks back to his own reflection. Tries to find Iggy in there again.

She’s gone.

All that’s there is his own face staring back at him. And that hurts worse.

Aurum hears the clatter of metal on ceramic, too loud and rattling in his brain, knees buckling so hard he has to grip the edges of the sink for any chance of staying standing.

Distantly, he sees Dew’s eyes go wide in the mirror, pushing up off of the doorframe and approaching him.

“Multi,” he says, quieter than Aurum’s ever heard him. “Multi, can you hear me?”

Aurum can’t look away from his own eyes. Dew moves even closer in his peripherals. He’d growl in warning but his voice is gone, Iggy’s taken all of his words from him.

A shaking hand touches his shoulder, burning warm. Aurum’s breath hitches violently at a touch too gentle for him to deserve. “I- I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, Dew. I’m so sorry for this, don’t touch me, I can’t- don’t-”

Aurum’s voice chokes into sobs, and he hates himself for it. He collapses in on himself, shoulders curling in. His knuckles ache but he doesn’t ease up his grip on the edges of the sink.

Over his shoulder, Dew gawks. It makes the shame ignite in his chest, burning and painful and just makes him sob harder. His head hangs, vision growing blurry and fast.

“Hey, Multi,” Dew tries again, pulls himself together, stoic like the ghoul he’s been watching on stage for weeks. The warm hand never leaves his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He can’t bring himself to protest as Dew leads him out of the bathroom. Barely registers sitting down at the foot of one of the beds, scratchy covers under his thighs. Dew’s hand shifts down from his shoulder to between his shoulderblades.

Aurum tries to pull himself together. Cuts himself on broken pieces as he holds them tight to keep them from shattering across the room more so than they already have. Dew doesn’t- Dew should be- He slumps forwards, shoving his face in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t be nice to me,” he hisses through hitched breaths. Every muscle in his body tenses nearly to the point of pain when Dew’s hand leaves him for the slightest moment. It returns just as fast as it’s left and he cannot stop himself from melting into it.

He can’t even deny himself that tiniest point of comfort even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. At the very least, not from Dew. Anybody but Dew.

But, somehow, Dew doesn’t share this sentiment. He doesn’t pull his hand away, watches with horrified concern as Aurum digs the heels of his hands into his eyes in some futile attempt to staunch the tears. ‘We are meant to share our burdens,” Dew says, not accusatory. “We were not meant to do this alone.”

Dew stays, and Aurum is greedily grateful, a tiny bright spark in the sea of disgust and shame crashing inside of his body. Even as he cries himself out, his fire evaporating each tear before it can drip from his chin, Dew stays.

“I’m- I’m supposed to be fire, this isn’t right,” Aurum chokes out. “I shouldn’t be this.”

He can feel Dew’s eyes burrowing into the side of his head. He curls even further on himself in a way that would be comical for a ghoul of his size in any other situation.

“What do you mean?” Dew whispers. It’s softer than he’s ever spoken to Aurum in the few months they’ve known each other. “Multi?”

“I’m fire. My mother and father are both fire. I shouldn’t be this,” he practically spits. His hands fall from his face, furiously picking at the dry skin around the base of his claws until it stings. “I’m wrong, this is wrong, I’m just a bad fire ghoul. He made me fucking wrong. I shouldn’t be here, you’re right.”

Dew stays silent for a painfully long moment, and Aurum feels the shame and fear rising. His body tenses, ready to lunge or run or do something.

But then Dew sighs, and the hand leaves his back and he flinches hard. The sound of fingers raking through fine hair and something like beads running against each other. Dew presses something warm and smooth into his hands, and his eyes fly open to find a familiar mother of pearl rosary resting in the palm of his hand. Aurum startles.

“I can’t take this, I’m not- He doesn’t-”

Dew sighs again. His thin lips quirk up in a half hearted smile as he presses the rosary firmer into Aurum’s grip. “It helps to have something to hold onto, at least when I feel like this.”

Aurum swallows hard, shame turning to guilt. The pearls on their strand pool through his fingers, Dew’s warmth baked into them. “Sorry-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, copper hair brushing over his shoulders. Another deep breath as Aurum struggles with his own. “You were right, you know?”

Aurum whips his head to face Dew, all pretenses of hiding his tearsoaked face gone. “What?”

Dew glances up to meet his eyes. He doesn’t seem to care how bloodshot and puffy they are. “You said you saw a water ghoul when you were summoned. You were right.”

“Oh- I’m-” Aurum flounders.

“My dam was fire,” Dew says slowly, not quite making eye contact. “But my father is water, and I was raised with my aunt’s school, out in the Fifth. I barely had any fire. Just had to struggle a little with my magic and no one who wasn’t important knew that I was anything but water.”

“What happened?” Aurum whispers, unable to temper his curiosity. He scrubs moisture from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Dew shrugs. His smile turns sadder and he stares at the wall. “I was summoned, served dutifully as the water ghoul in the Project. And then, when things got… shaken up, before you came. We needed a new fire ghoul.”

Dew’s voice hitches, but he does not call attention to it, so Aurum just watches and listens, fidgets with the rosary in his hands. Tries to remember what each bead was for and fails.

“And we got you when the Cardinal tried summoning his first ghoul. I don’t know why they started him with fire. Fire ghouls are difficult to summon, even for the most skilled summoners. But you were his very first ghoul, and the Clergy thought you weren’t going to pull through and they still needed a fire ghoul, so I volunteered. And now I’m this.”

“’M sorry-” Aurum tries again.

Dew whips around to face him. There’s something burning in his eyes and Aurum holds his ground. “Don’t be. I chose this. Even if I have no fucking clue what I’m doing and most everything I know is gone. And I think, I think we’re in the exact same boat.”

Aurum blinks. Takes a shaking breath as deep as he can. He nods.

“We’re both the first of our kind, Multi,” Dew sighs. He looks away. His spindly fingers twitch in his lap and Aurum is struck with the motion to hand his rosary back to him. Dew laughs softly and accepts, winding the strand of pearls between his knuckles. “You are the first multi-element ghoul to survive a filtered summons, and I’m the first ghoul to, all my gratitudes to the Olde One, successfully survive an elemental transition.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Aurum admits sheepishly, his tail curled around his calf. “I don’t- we’re not- those are different.”

“Not by much,” Dew shrugs. He glances to the smoke alarm above the door before summoning a shaky ball of flames, no bigger than a quarter, in his palm. “We both survived something thought unsurvivable. I’m learning to be something that I’ve hidden away all of my life. And from what you just told me, you’re doing the exact same.”

“Doesn’t give me the excuse to threaten you like that,” Aurum mumbles. The flames in Dew’s palm are whisked away, vanishing into air.

“Multi, you don’t scare me,” Dew shrugs. “And I don’t think I blame you. And I know I haven’t seen you at Mass or in the chapels back home-”

And isn’t that a novel concept, Aurum thinks. Home.

“-and I don’t know if I’m crossing a line. But I do truly believe that we were not created to handle our problems on our own. That the Prince meant for us to help each other. Despite everything, I want to make this pack work, Multi. Doing this, serving the Prince, playing His praise, is how I worship and make peace with everything that’s happened. I hope, maybe someday, that it’ll help you too.”

Aurum turns to look at Dew, takes in his profile as the fire ghoul stares straight ahead at the tackiest décor he’s ever seen in his life. They sit in silence for a moment. Aurum knows what he’s supposed to say, but those two words sit heavy in his throat and refuse to budge. Exhaustion wracks his body, the afterimage of his baby sister’s face seared into the backs of his eyelids.

“I want to do this job,” Aurum breathes. He watches Dew’s ear twitch, but there’s no other reaction. “I want this to work. I don’t want to go back.”

Dew huffs a laugh. “Megs put in too much effort on you. He’ll put up a fight before you’re sent back to the Pits, and he’s too valuable a ghoul for the Clergy to lose.”

Aurum doesn’t focus on what that particular statement means. “Thank you,” he whispers instead.

“I know the Cardinal wants us to apologize,” Dew says nonchalantly. “And I will. I’m sorry for getting in your face and pushing you for a reaction. I was trying to demand perfection against my own beliefs. Because I know what happened the last time people I cared about made too many mistakes.”

Aurum’s breath hitches, vision blurring with tears once again. Dew’s hand finds the small of his back and he cannot help himself but lean into it. He doesn’t trust his voice. Dew doesn’t seem to mind at all.

They sit like that for long enough for Aurum to cry himself out, silently barring a few hitched, wet breaths.

Dew stands, offers him a sad smile. “It’s late, we’re back on the road in Lucifer only knows how few hours.”

Aurum nods, wipes the last of the moisture from his freshly shaven cheeks before his body heat makes them steam away.

“And for what it’s worth, Multi?” Dew says as he turns away to rummage in his bag for a clean shirt. “He doesn’t make us wrong. He makes us like Him.”

He takes a deep breath, lets that sit in the very core of him, and starts to get ready for bed.

Aurum dreams, tossing and turning in the luxury of a full sized bed. She smiles at him, the exact same as his own, and then she’s gone.

When he wakes to the sound of Dew praying softly, he’s not upset at the sight of Ignis in his dream the way he might have, once. He holds her close to his heart and gets up to get ready. There’s no use trying to change where he came from. He has nowhere to go but forward.

They soundcheck He Is at the next Ritual. Aurum sings and plays and warms up with the rest of them.

But his eyes are locked on Dew, kitty corner on stage from his platform. They aren’t wearing their masks or balaclavas, the summer heat just on the wrong side of unbearable with the sun still in the sky, blinding and bright. Dew’s copper hair catches the light, choppy as it hangs loose over his shoulders. It glints like wrought metal, and almost reminds Aurum of the adornment he once wore.

He can’t help but think about that last conversation. About the undeserved gentleness he’s never seen from the fire ghoul.

Aurum is not a pious ghoul. Sworn up and down he’d never think of the Prince again. He knows the irony of that, standing here alongside the Prince’s very own Mouthpiece, singing songs of worship and praise disguised as a rock show.

He watches Dew as the chorus ends and Dew steps a little closer to the edge of the stage for his solo. It’s not complicated technically, far simpler and calmer than the guitar solos Dew plays during the rest of the setlist.

But Dew shuts his eyes, fingers flying gracefully over fretboards and strings and he almost seems to sink into it. His breathing is deep and steady and if Aurum didn’t know any better-

He remembers the other parts of that conversation. Music as worship and as prayer.

Aurum stares at Dew. At the ghoul who’d comforted him when he didn’t deserve it. Who’d been going through his own hardships and remained just as faithful as when he went into them. He remembers the feel of those pearls sliding through his fingers.

He shakes his head with a little smile, readjusts the weight of his own guitar over his shoulders, and carries on.

Aurum had learned quickly on the road that his and his fellow ghouls’ duties did not exist solely on stage; helping offstage after the Rituals is just as important, and Aurum takes the opportunity happily. He and Mountain and a human roadie load a bus with crates of electronics needed for the stageshow. It’s heavy and it’s physical and his body aches from weeks of hard work but it is satisfying in a way that feels content.

And the best part is, he’s not expected to talk. As long as the work is done properly and somewhat quickly, he can keep his mouth shut. Mountain seems to enjoy the quiet. Aurum isn’t going to step on any toes, remembering the way Mountain loomed over him. Tossed him back to an angry, vengeful quintessence ghoul like it had meant nothing.

Mountain huffs, hauling another crate of equipment onto the bus. Aurum startles a little at the noise. The earth ghoul’s already dripping sweat from the Ritual itself, and he watches bead after bead slide down from his glamoured hairline.

Aurum works in silence, taking a crate from the roadie and sending it Mountain’s way. He shuts his eyes for a second, lets the haze of adrenaline coming down dull his mind for a moment. Doesn’t have to think, just needs to haul crates. Can be useful in a way he knows for certain he can be.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did, Multi.” Mountain says, breaking the silence. Aurum freezes, looking up from the crate of electronics to try and meet the earth ghoul’s gaze. It doesn’t work, Mountain not even looking at it. “I know the Cardinal wants me to, but I cannot.”

His hackles raise a little, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back.

Mountain notices his pause, looks up. Emerald green eyes burn in the dark, just a little too bright to truly pass as human. He huffs, top lip quirking up in a tiny smile before he shakes his head. A sweaty strand of auburn hair slips out from where he’d tied it back and drapes over his forehead. “I’d be lying if I did,” he says, like that’s reassuring at all. “And I don’t regret it at all.”

Aurum stares for a moment longer. He can’t get a read on the older ghoul. The human tech behind him clears his throat, and he startles, handing the crate in his hands to Mountain before taking the next one.

The earth ghoul pauses once the crate is stowed, glancing once at Aurum. “That’s a little harsh, I understand-” and Aurum wants to scoff, a little harsh? But he’s never heard Mountain speak this much at once, and he wants to listen. He has to try.

“But I will do anything to protect Aether and Dewdrop, and you got in between me and them. They are the last pieces of the life that used to be mine. I didn’t fight hard enough for the rest of it. I- I didn’t fight for them. I ran. And I will never make that mistake again. And I will not apologize.”

Mountain turns, leaving that to sink in for a moment. “Wait- what do you-”

“Did Copia ever tell you how he got control of the Project?” There’s no malice in the older ghoul’s voice, just curiosity. “Why we needed so many new ghouls?”

He shakes his head. Mountain takes the last crate and stows it, closing the compartment on the bus. The human tech whose name Aurum can’t really remember disappears back into the venue, leaving the two of them somewhat alone in the cool night air. Mountain leans up against the bus, groaning as he stretches his back.

“He didn’t tell me,” Aurum says, rolling an ache out of his shoulders. “Just that he needed new ghouls.”

Mountain takes a deep breath. Takes his hair down and reties it, meticulously sweeping back the little auburn wisps that had escaped his hair tie with his effort. “I don’t blame Copia for what happened. I knew him briefly before, he seemed content to run the Treasury. I think he had very little to do with the change of management for the Project. But before him, I served Papa Emeritus the Third. He summoned me. And Aether. And Dewdrop. And-”

His voice hitches violently, and Aurum reaches out, stopping short of actually touching him. Mountain huffs softly, and to Aurum’s horror, those emerald eyes get even shinier.

“And when my Papa no longer was a satisfactory Mouthpiece for the Clergy, they- He was deposed and murdered. Along with his brothers. His own father-” Mountain growls, lip curling up in a snarl. “And then. With our summoner gone, my pack, and the packs of ghouls summoned by my Papa’s predecessors, started to go missing. One by one. Starting with the ghoul they intended for you to replace. Until only three of us remained. And frankly, I don’t even think I was meant to survive. I think I just got lucky. I miss them.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers, finding the courage to rest a hand on Mountain’s bicep.

“Don’t be,” he says lightly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, bright and gleaming in the dark. “You had nothing to do with it. This was before you came.”

“But I made things worse,” he shrugs. There’s no self deprecation in it, objective as he can. “Lashing out for stupid reasons, I think.”

Mountain raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think they were exactly stupid, Multi. You’ve had your life torn up and you almost died for it. I understand why you’ve been lashing out, even if I didn’t agree with your methods.”

“I wasn’t thinking. And besides. It feels like the rest of you have been through worse. I’ve got no excuses.”

Mountain laughs. “That’s subjective, Multi. You lost your old life, and we lost ours. Pretty even playing field, huh?”

Aurum stares off at the city skyline. Mountain’s hand on his shoulder startles him, and he tips his head back just enough to meet his eyes. “I am, and I will not speak for Dew and Aether, trying to make up for what I lost. Make this new pack mine. Multi, listen to me, okay?”

He nods, feeling the weight and warmth of Mountain’s hand even through a layer of fabric.

“I have been angry for a very long time. It is exhausting. It is killing me. I do not want Dew and Aether to watch me succumb to it and lose another piece of their old life.” Mountain growls, and even in his human glamour, it’s low enough to rattle through Aurum’s bones.

He’s not afraid of it anymore.

“And I see that anger in you, Multi. And I know well enough that you were looking for punishment, back there. Not for this, but for something else, I think. I think you’re tired. Like me.”

Aurum blinks, eyes going a little wide and out of focus before narrowing sharply. “I- I think so too,” he admits, though he knows that he’s far more certain than he’s trying to let on. He’s been angry for so long.

“We need to find somewhere to put it. Our anger is a gift from the Serpent Deceiver Himself. Without His anger at the Forsaker, we would not have been created. But ours needs to go somewhere and I will not let you direct yours at the pack anymore.”

Aurum swallows hard. It’s hard not to lean into Mountain’s touch, the bigger ghoul’s hand still on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Aurum breathes, and the weight on his chest feels a little lighter. It feels cliché but he swears his posture melts a little with relief. “I’m sorry, I will do better.”

“I don’t ask for that,” Mountain whispers. “Just that you try.”

“I promise I’ll try,” Aurum’s quick to reply.

The earth ghoul gifts him a smile, almost mischievous, and pulls away with one last pat to the shoulder. “Alright, good to hear. Bus is packed, we can probably get going.”

Aurum nods, and follows Mountain as he turns to leave.

Things start to get easier. He’s starting to find his place, not putting all of himself neatly away when they leave the stage. He’s still nervous and restless and exhausted, but he thinks the rest of his fellow ghouls feel pretty similarly.

He doesn’t know how many Rituals pass after that, but there’s a night the show goes so perfectly that Copia pats each of them on the shoulder, offering the ghoulettes each a kiss on the knuckles. Copia asks Dew, Mountain and Aether for a word, promising it will be quick, and the four of them disappear into a side room. “Don’t wait up for us,” Copia says. “Go ahead and change, we will be but a moment.”

The door shuts before they can even nod in agreement. They stand there in the hallway, stunned for a split moment.

Cumulus tucks herself into Cirrus’s side, and the taller ghoulette laughs, tiredly but playfully shoving her away. “Come on, wait until we get to the green room. Lemme shower, songbird,” she laughs.

Aurum can’t help himself but smile as he follows the girls and Rain to the green room. He itches to take his mask and balaclava off, change into clean, dry clothes.

They pile into the room, the door shutting behind them, and Cirrus vanishes into the showers with a small pile of clean clothes. She kisses Cumulus on the cheek, her mask removed and set aside. “Braid my hair when you’re done, my loon?” Cumulus asks, just loud enough that Aurum catches it.

Cirrus smiles and nods, and slips into the bathroom. The sound of pipes creaking grates at Aurum’s ears, and then rushing water takes it all away.

He settles at a mirror, putting his mask and balaclava away and grabbing the makeup wipes to start work on his chin and eyes. The greasepaint there always is such a struggle to remove, but the wipes are nice and cool on his sweaty, overheated skin.

Rain flops over on the couch, arm slung over his forehead and eyes shut. “Fuck, ‘m so tired,” he groans, stretching out his legs with a wince.

“You could say that again,” Cumulus agrees, grimacing as she starts to detangle her hair, even though she and her mate both wear their hair braided up under their masks, it always ends up a tangled, knotty mess. She hisses as her fingers catch on a particularly stubborn snarl. “I love my hair, but Lucifer fucking Below I should just cut it off.”

“It’s so pretty, though,” Rain says, reaching up to card his fingers through his own sweat-damp waves.

“So much effort, though,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “And I love my mate, but it’s going to be so long until she gets back. We usually do each other’s, but I just want it done.”

Rain shrugs. “I’d offer to braid it for you, but my joints are fucking killing me. My knuckles especially, Lucifer fuck. Gotta talk to Aeth when he gets back.”

“Aw, poor bambi,” Cumulus coos in sympathy. “It’s fine, I can take care of it.”

Aurum blinks, staring at himself in the dressing room mirror. He sets down the wipe, makeup half removed. “I could do it.” He recoils a little, the words leaving him before he could process the offer. He finds, in the silence that follows, that he doesn’t wish to retract it.

Both of the others whip over to face him, and he can see their eyes in the reflection. Aurum takes a breath, sets his shoulders and turns around to face them.

There’s a look of apprehension on Rain’s face, and something similar that furrows Cumulus’s brows. It stings a little, but the way Rain had stumbled back when he’d shoved Dew flashes behind his eyelids. Aurum shows them the palms of his hands, tries to make himself as non-threatening as he can, which as the biggest ghoul in the room is a little difficult.

“I- uh- I had, have? I had sisters, once. I don’t know if I still have them. But I know how to braid hair,” he offers.

The look on Cumulus’s face softens, and if Aurum didn’t know any better, Rain almost looks sad.

“I mean, I understand if you don’t want me near you, believe me, I get it,” he’s quick to backpedal, not sure where the line is and if he’s crossed it.

The silence is only broken by Cirrus still showering, muffled by the thick, cinderblock walls. Aurum waits, wills his breathing not to shake. Tries to summon all the confidence he’d had on stage not twenty minutes ago.

Cumulus shrugs, and the tension is broken like it had never been there to begin with. “I don’t see why not,” she says, smiling brightly and so wide her round cheeks dimple.

Aurum lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and lets his feet carry himself until he stands behind her. She’s gotten the cloud of white blonde hair mostly untangled with her fingers, and it’s not quite the texture he’s used to, but he knows how to make it work. “Thank you,” he breathes just loud enough for her to hear.

She doesn’t stop smiling, reaching back until her pianist’s fingers rest on his forearm. “We got off to a rough start, Multi. Doesn’t mean we can’t make it better.”

He nods, sectioning out her hair. It’s soft and a little damp under his fingertips, and he can smell her fresh air scent. It almost reminds him of someone he’s vowed to forget, but different enough. New. Something he finds he likes.

“How do you want it?” he asks her. Aurum can still feel Rain’s curious eyes on him, but does nothing to dissuade the attention.

“Just a braid down the center, please, if you wouldn’t mind,” she says. Cumulus relaxes into Aurum’s hands, and he swallows hard at the display of trust, his hands, although claws are glamoured away, so close to her throat.

He nods. “’Course, I can do that,” he says quietly, fingers starting to weave, sectioning her hair and adding it to the strands of the braid. Her hair is soft under his fingers, and he’s so careful not to pull too hard.

Rain watches silently, and Cumulus starts to hum something soft and quiet. It takes a second, but he recognizes the tune as a call to prayer, something they’d used to play in the City. A familiar, easy melody. Peaceful, and so gentle in Cumulus’s voice that it hurts.

Aurum thought he’d never hear it again. He’s careful not to tighten his fingers in her hair, shuts his eyes and lets the muscle memory of his hands finish the plait. Slowly, cautiously, he starts to hum along.

He doesn’t see Cumulus’s smile, or Rain’s raised eyebrow, or the fond look on Cirrus’s face as she steps out from the showers. But he feels the energy in the room ease to something warm and comfortable, and he hasn’t felt so safe in such a long time.

Aurum realizes when he reaches the ends of Cumulus’s hair that he forgot to grab a hair tie for her. Before she can snatch one for him from her wrist, he reaches up and takes his locs out of their bun, quickly tying off the braid with his own tie as his hair falls around his shoulders. “There, that good?” he asks softly, careful not to break the warmth that’s growing.

Cumulus turns around to face him, her soft blue eyes finding his. “It’s perfect, Multi, thank you.”

The warmth that blooms in his chest at her approval has nothing to do with his element.

He talks to Copia again, at the next Ritual, alone in a quiet backstage as the rest of the band plays Miasma not twenty feet away.

Aurum kneels on the concrete as he helps the Cardinal step back into his leather shoes. This time, when the man extends a gloved hand down to help him back to his feet, Aurum brushes it away.

“I- uh, had a question for you, we still have a little time?” he asks. If he were unglamoured, his tail would be curled around his calf like a shy little kit.

Copia’s brow furrows a little, the concern rolling off of him in waves. Aurum’s quick to reach up to take his hand between his own.

“I’m okay, things are getting better with the rest, I just. Had a religious question. And figured you would be the one to ask.”

He relaxes visibly, hand curling around Aurum’s. “Ask away, my ghoul.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, gathering all of himself to meet the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes. The Mark of the Prince Himself stares back, the Eye looking right into his very being.

“How do I return to the Prince?” he whispers, almost quiet enough to be lost underneath the rest of the band. “I’m not saying I’m ready, I don’t know, I still feel- uh, well, deeply betrayed, and I have for a very long time. But I just- I want to know what I need to do if I am, Copia. I’m singing His praise and I feel like I have to mean it.”

Copia sinks down to his knees, lowering himself to Aurum’s level. He groans as his joints protest, and Aurum reaches to stop him but is waved off. “My ghoul, there is no fancy ritual or steps one needs to take to return to faith. We all, at one point or another, doubt or refuse the Prince’s love. Lucifer, I once turned my back on Him for close to a year before I attended seminary.”

Aurum’s brow furrows. “Is- Is it rude if I ask why?”

He smiles, a little nervous, but it soothes something raw and frayed in Aurum’s chest. “Not at all. When I was a boy, I was given up to my aunt and uncle. I do not know my mother. I was loved and cherished, do not get me wrong. But I could not stop myself from wondering what I had done that she did not want me. I thought, for a time, that the Prince had made me wrong.”

Aurum feels something sting through his chest, remembering the conversation with Dew, and before that, the countless prayers asking the exact same thing. His eyes widen behind the chrome of his mask “How- How did you change your opinion?”

Copia reaches out and cups the side of Aurum’s face, the leather surprisingly cool against his skin. “I learned that it was not my fault that my mother gave me up to my guardians. I am not responsible for her actions. All the Prince wanted from me was what I could control. And there are a great many things that I can control in my servitude to Him. The Prince may have made me flawed, but there is not a single human or ghoul who is without.”

Aurum swallows hard. The concrete bites into his knees through his pants, and he can’t imagine Copia’s faring much better. He offers Copia his hand and they both stand with a grunt. “And He won’t judge me if I’m not ready?”

Copia smiles, and the saxophone blares out on stage. He pats Aurum’s shoulder gently. “The Prince will wait. And I swear upon all of my studies and sermons that He will have open arms for you if and when you ever return. All you have to do is speak to Him, and He will listen.”

Aurum takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders. “Thank you, Copia.”

“Any time, my ghoul,” he says, and they break to take their places back on stage.

Even as things get easier, slowly trending upwards, there are still things that send Aurum crashing back to that base state of fear. Nights are frequently bad, his body exhausted and begging him for sleep, but dreams keep him restless enough that he wakes even more tired than when he’d turned in.

He can never remember them, but his body remembers the instinctual fear of fight or flight, muscles tense and ready for attack.

Aurum wakes one night in a panic, breath catching in his throat and his stomach churning, nearly smacking his forehead against the ceiling of his bunk as he jolts up. The rocking motion of the bus isn’t exactly helping either. He doesn’t remember the details of what woke him, remembers raised voices and sharp claws, but he couldn’t pick out who they belonged to. He’s, thankfully, a little grateful for it.

It takes a moment for him to fully take in his surroundings, and he nearly slams his forehead into the ceiling of the bunk again when he realizes the privacy curtain’s open and someone’s looking in.

A set of violet eyes glow in the darkness, and Aurum presses himself against the back wall, instinctively baring his fangs. They’re backlit, and Aurum’s mind races too quickly for him to put their identity together.

The ghoul sighs, and Aether extends a glamoured hand, blunt fingernails instead of claws. “You alright, Multi? Could feel you dreaming. It was- uh- loud.”

Aurum’s face heats, and he shrugs, desperately trying to pull up any semblance of a facade. “Sorry for wakin’ you, ’m fine,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off of Aether’s hand for an instant. Hates the idea of the bigger ghoul knowing.

“I was already up.” He gives a half hearted little smile, a huff of breath through his nose, and brings his hand back to his side. “Alright,” he says, and even rattled as he is, Aurum can tell he’s not convinced whatsoever. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m going up front instead of tossing and turning. Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

The older ghoul turns and leaves, and Aurum stays pressed up against the back wall for a full minute before even thinking about untensing. The rest of the bunks stay quiet, and Aurum breathes a long sigh of relief that he hadn’t woken anyone else.

A little voice in the back of his mind that doesn’t sound like his own asks if Aether was telling the truth that he had already been awake.

He tries to ignore it.

Aurum doesn’t know how long he lays there, the sound of breathing and the engine rumbling not enough to lull him back to sleep. He feels small and claustrophobic in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. He swallows, wincing at just how badly his throat hurts. He didn’t realize how thirsty he is.

He takes a deep breath and hops out of his bunk as quietly as he can. The lights up front are dim, though still a little brighter than the darkness of the bunks. He walks into the light.

Aether glances up from where he’s sitting at the booth, pencil tucked behind his ear and a thin paperback spread out on the table in front of him, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and catching the yellow overhead light. Aurum nods, keeps his head down as he opens the minifridge and grabs a bottle of water. He’s careful not to grab the special filtered ones set aside for Rain. Wants to avoid as much ire as he can even though things are getting better.

He pauses for a moment in front of the fridge, glancing over at Aether. “Water?” He asks, just loud enough for him to hear. “Or anything I could grab you?”

Aether looks over his shoulder. Aurum can’t read his expression, but at least it’s not outright vitriol. “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a water?”

Aurum swallows, nods, grabs a second bottle and shuts the fridge, padding over to the booth. He sets the bottle in front of Aether, getting a better look at the book open in front of the older ghoul; an empty crossword sits on the page.

“Thank you,” Aether says, and Aurum feels pinned by his gaze. He doesn’t look at him. Aether sighs loudly, gesturing to the other side of the booth.

He hesitates for a moment, the darkness leading back to the bunks ever alluring. A memory flashes in his mind: Aether with his fangs bared, fury in his eyes as he’d pinned Aurum to the wall. Frankly, he’d deserved it.

He takes a deep breath and turns back to Aether. He sits down.

Aether closes his crossword and sets it aside, taking a long drink from his water bottle. Aurum follows, not realizing just how thirsty he really is until he finishes half the bottle in one pull.

Aether just watches. When he sets his bottle down, he sighs, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him.

“I haven’t exactly been fair to you, Multi,” he says.

Aurum’s so taken aback he physically recoils. “You have been more than fair to me, I’ve been a bastard.”

Aether sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Just- Just listen to me?”

Aurum puts both of his hands up. “Sorry, yeah.”

The older ghoul takes a couple deep breaths, opens his mouth to start talking but can’t find the words. He tries again.

“I had no real reason to be angry with you before you and Dew fought the other night,” Aether says.

Aurum hangs his head, lip twitching as he grabs at his own wrist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I know,” Aether says. He sounds as tired as Aurum feels. “But I was angry with you from the moment you were summoned. For things that you had no fault in.”

Aurum looks up so fast his neck cricks. The look waiting for him in Aether’s eyes is centuries older than his vessel. Tired and angry and something distant that he recognizes seeing on Omega’s face.

“Mount told me that he’d told you about what happened,” Aether says, rolling his pencil in his fingers mindlessly. “About our old pack.”

Aurum nods wordlessly to confirm.

Aether turns, stares out the window into the dark of night. A flash of headlights passing in the opposite direction reflects in the round lenses of his glasses. “And Dew told me you’d found out about what happened to him?”

He takes a breath. “Only that he’d used to be a water ghoul, that- that I was right.”

Aether huffs a soft laugh, but it is nowhere near close to touching his eyes. “Nothing about how that had happened? Or why?”

“He said the Clergy needed a fire ghoul.” Aurum’s lip curls up in a half hearted smile. “I- uh- I was a bit of a mess that night when he told me. I- I didn’t, and still don’t, deserve his kindness. It wasn’t my place, and I was in no shape to press any further.”

The quintessence ghoul raises an eyebrow curiously. “Dew told me it was rough. You’re alright?”

What a loaded question.

Aurum takes a moment to try and process the weight of those two little words and isn’t happy with anything he comes up with. “I. I will be. Someday. Thought I was past all of this.” He gestures wildly behind him. “It just comes back when it wants to and puts me on my ass.”

Aether nods. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know,” he says. He sounds so much like Omega it almost makes Aurum’s head spin. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through the unkempt purple strands of his mohawk. “I know, and this is where I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Aurum shrugs. He takes another drink of his water. Tries not to remember the way he’d egged Aether on in that backstage fifteen states ago.

Aether laughs, a deep chuckle that makes his eyes crinkle a little. “I acted incredibly recklessly and meant to cause you serious harm, Multi. That warrants an apology. And I am sorry, it will not happen again. As much as I love Dew, and will protect him with everything I have, I am also meant to do no harm.”

Aurum blinks, the words settling somewhere in his chest. “I- I don’t know-” he cuts himself off, gold eyes glinting in the low light.

The quintessence ghoul laughs again, a little less warm. “Forgiveness is up to you. You are not obligated to forgive me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d forgive me for that.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Aether just shrugs. “I didn’t ever want you to be hurt, you know?” he breathes. “I recused myself from your care when you were recovering from the summons because I knew my emotions made me a danger. But even with how much I’d been angry and grieving, I knew it wasn’t your fault for any of it.”

“Not even picking a fight with Dew for no reason?” Aurum asks. He knows he’s toeing for the line.

“That came later, and I have been thoroughly dressed down by the Cardinal for my behavior,” Aether says. “I can promise you that no harm will come to you at my hand ever again.”

“Thanks,” Aurum says, looking down as he finds his flannel pajama pants incredibly interesting.

Aether rolls his pencil between his fingers, something to hold onto. “And I do not want to use any of this as an excuse, but I believe you are owed an explanation.”

Aurum blinks, opens his mouth to protest, but finds that he wants to listen instead.

“I blamed you for what happened to Dew and I’m sorry.” It’s choked out, and Aether squeezes his eyes shut behind his round glasses.

Aurum’s hand slides forward across the booth table, reaching out on instinct, eyes wide and listening intently. Aether’s lip quirks up in a sad little smile. It’s an expression he’s seen countless times on Omega’s face.

“We’d just mated before his element was changed, and watching him, feeling him go through that ritual through our bond nearly killed me. Not even mentioning that it came so fucking close to killing him. And that would have broken- that was my worst fear. I almost told him no when he asked me to be his.” Aether takes a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes open, and the bright violet there bores into Aurum with determination, pins him to his seat.

“But I have the same faith in my mate that I do in the Prince,” Aether says. He does not look away. “And while I believed in him, that he’d pull through. It was not easy to witness even if I didn’t feel it through our bond. And on top of everything else we’d lost, I was angry for what we’d had to risk. I doubted Him. I didn’t know why I’d dedicated such a large part of my life to Him if pain and suffering were all I’d receive.”

Aurum swallows, nods. “I- uh- I know,” he says, because that’s all he can say.

“I blamed you because it was easy; were you not a multighoul, he’d still be mostly water and wouldn’t have risked an experimental ritual to please the Clergy. But it wasn’t you who made the decision that he had to change and I never had any real right to be angry at you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers. “I’m sorry for lashing out, and egging you on and getting you in trouble with the Cardinal.”

Aether laughs softly, careful not to wake any of the rest of the pack sleeping not ten feet away. “I forgive you, Multi. And I hope you’ll forgive me, in your own time. No rush.” He chuckles deep in his chest, and Aurum can’t help himself but laugh along.

“I think I do,” he says, after the laughter trails off, leaving only the sound of the bus’s engine rumbling as they travel. “Forgive you, I mean. The summoning hurt,” he admits. “I’m not sure if it’s anything remotely close to what happened to Dew, but Lucifer fucking Below, I’d never hurt so much before.”

Aether nods, purses his lips. “You were in rough shape, I saw you when you came through.”

“I remember seeing you and Dew and Mount before I blacked out. Fuck, that really hurt. ‘Specially because I did genuinely think I was fire. Don’t really have control over my other elements.”

“Quint and earth, right?” Aether asks.

He nods, picking at the skin around one of his claws. “It hurt so bad, and I think I dream about it sometimes. Among other things. Feel like I haven’t slept in centuries.”

Aether takes a long, shaky breath through his nose. “You could say that again. Didn’t sleep for two weeks until Dew woke up from the transition.”

Aurum tilts his head. Just watches the exhaustion settle on Aether’s face. “Did I wake you?” he asks again, offering a little half smile. “Tell me the truth.”

“Had my own dream,” Aether shrugs. “He didn’t wake up. Crumbled to ash in my arms. So once I checked on him- he’s sardined with Mountain right now- I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. So I came up here.”

“And then you heard me.”

“Then my quintessence picked up on your dream. Almost a little surprised it didn’t wake the others, because it was loud.” Aether winces, grimacing. “Someone was saying some awful things.”

Heat floods Aurum’s face, and he breaks eye contact. “Yeah. Don’t remember who it was, but yeah. I can imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” Aether whispers, genuine and sad, and Aurum can’t bear to think of what exactly the quintessence ghoul had witnessed in his dream. For once, he wishes he could remember the nightmare.

“Nothing to do with you,” he shrugs instead. He yawns, jaw popping with how wide it splits his face, baring his fangs. “Fuck, ‘m exhausted,” he laughs weakly. “How do you even keep doing this?”

Aether reaches out at that, puts his hand over where Aurum’s is resting on the table. “Day by day,” he says, and a little bit of magic eases between them and soothes the raw nerves left from the forgotten dream. “All we can do is one day at a time, and have faith we are on the right path.”

The magic is warm and almost carbonated, and Aurum struggles to keep his head upright. “Oh fuck, that feels good,” he slurs as the tension in his body starts to release. “Thanks.”

The quintessence ghoul smiles, his gold fang glinting in the light. “We should both at least try and get some sleep, huh?”

Aurum nods, struggling to keep his eyes open. They both stand from the booth and slink as quietly as they can back to their bunks. “Good night, Multi,” Aether whispers, holding his bicep for just a moment before checking on Mountain and Dew. Satisfied with what he finds in the darkness, he opens the curtain to his own bunk and climbs in, flashing him one more tired smile.

“Good night, Aether,” Aurum returns. He lays down, closing the curtain behind him. He’s just on the right side of too tall, snug in his bunk, but the exhaustion and quintessence ease him to sleep.

For once, he sleeps deeply and does not dream.

He falls into the rhythm, falling into step with the rest of his pack. (He’s not sure when he’s started thinking of the others as his pack, but it makes something in his chest feel so, so warm.) Days turn to weeks turn to months, and Aurum finally feels right.

Aurum realizes, singing Monstrance Clock at the end of a Ritual one night, that he thinks he’s ready. His fingers shake with nerves on the strings of his Hagström, wonders if what Copia told him was true. If the Prince will take him back despite his missteps.

He thinks it as he takes his packmates’ hands at bows, feels their energies flowing through him. The love and devotion they have for each other that’s starting to be turned in his direction too.

Tonight has to be the night. Before he loses the bravery to speak up.

The ride to the hotel is quiet, fatigue written deep across each ghoul’s face, and just as much, if not more, on Copia’s. Cumulus leans her head on Aurum’s shoulder, and he carefully rests his head on top of hers and lets himself nod off for a moment.

Keycards are distributed in the hotel lobby, Copia smiling fondly at him as he hands Aurum the card that matches Cirrus. He looks to the other ghoulette, where Cumulus has migrated to tuck herself against her mate’s side. Dew’s standing similarly close to Aether, swaying on his feet in an attempt to stay awake just a while longer, and Rain and Mountain are quietly talking, careful not to break the quiet peace.

Copia turns to the elevator, and the ghouls slowly start to follow. They cram into the elevators, giggling with exhaustion with how tight packed they are.

Aurum counts door numbers once he gets to his floor, looking for the matching number. But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he freezes in his tracks and turns around.

Cirrus smiles at him, and Cumulus matches it. Aurum fights himself not to lean into her touch too much. "I know my mate's been scheduled the single room, but I'm joining her tonight. Enjoy the quiet, Multi."

He offers her a smile. He tries to make it reach his eyes. He’s not sure if it works. "Thank you, Cirrus."

She returns it, dark hair falling out from the bun she'd thrown it up into after the Ritual. The shaved side's almost grown in. He wonders if, or when, she’ll shave it back down. "Don't mention it. Get some rest, okay?"

Aurum looks away, glancing back sheepishly as his face heats. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright," she says, reshouldering her bag. Cirrus leans in, presses her forehead to his so they share breath for a moment. "Good night, Multi."

For just a split moment, Aurum leans into the contact, gold eyes squeezing shut. "Good night, Cirrus. Good night, Cumulus."

The ghoulettes grant him one more smile as they walk away, slipping further down the hallway. Aurum waits, stands stock still until the door shuts and latches behind them. He turns and unlocks his own door.

Once he's alone, he moves with quiet purpose to where he set his own bag. The yellow light from the lamp casts his shadow large across the tacky wallpaper opposite him. Aurum rummages through his bag, pulling out the little velvet bag Omega had given him what feels like a lifetime ago.

He sits at the edge of one of the queen beds, the one furthest from the door, as he pulls open the drawstring. He pours out the contents, and Aurum turns the black candle and its shiny gold ceramic holder over in his palm. They haven't changed since the last time he pulled them out, but he examines them anyways.

The pit in his stomach that's been there every time he's thought about using them closes up. Like it had never existed in the first place.

Aurum swallows hard. He glances up to the smoke alarm above the door, cocking his head as he hems and haws for a moment. He sets the incense aside for later.

Making up his mind with a shrug, he slides off of the edge of the bed until the short pile of the cheap carpet presses into his knees through his pants. Aurum shuts his eyes, lets the coarseness ground him for a moment.

The nightstand between the two beds is just below eye level when he's like this, and Aurum thanks whoever's listening in for the convenience as he sets the candle holder onto the faux wood grain. The candle slides into place with ease.

Aurum stares at it, the untouched wick more intimidating than all three of the older ghouls had been after he'd put his hands on Dew. His breathing grows unsteady, and his hands shake in front of him.

He remembers the altar in the entryway of his family’s home, the five candles there in the gilded alcove. That last, desperate prayer in Saint Jezebel's Chapel before turning his back on everything he’d ever known.

Aurum takes a deep breath, laughing self-deprecatingly under his breath. After everything he's done, this is what gives him pause? A single little candle?

He reaches out and shuts off the lamp. The room is dark, and all he can hear is his own shaky breathing and the hum of the central air. Aurum shuts his eyes, willing magic to his fingers.

A spark jumps from them to the wick when he runs his fingertips over it, and the orange glow threatens to snuff before it properly lights. Aurum has just enough time to worry that it won't take before the glow swells into a proper flame.

It flickers, sending dancing shadows across the walls, the only light source in the room besides the light spilling in from the hall under the door. The wax starts to melt, pooling at the top, and Aurum takes a deep breath, watching the flame dance on the wick. He presses his palm to his sternum, feels his heart beat under his ribs as he stares into the flame.

"Infernal Majesty," he says, tongue feeling too big in his mouth. All of the prayers he remembers from his mother and father's lips have washed away like writing in sand at high tide. "Please forgive me, it has been a very long time since I have called upon You, my Prince and Lord. I don't know if I can do this properly anymore."

He laughs nervously, and the flame flickers. He hears the scattering of jewelry on marble and cringes. "I know I turned my back on You, Olde One, but I- I feared for my life and begged for safety and did not receive it until I took it with my own hands. I thought it was fair."

The flame flickers again, dimming for a moment, and he almost lunges forward, prepared to relight it. But Aurum's shoulders fall as the flame swells again, bright and gold and dancing. He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He presses his hand to his chest, feels the swell of breath, the rhythm of his heart working behind his sternum.

"But that was You, wasn't it?" Aurum says softly, feels his heart beating under his palm. Proof that despite everything, he is alive. "I was going to try and wait and just bear it until they let me go. But I needed the bravery to stand up to them and leave. I thank you, Lightbringer, for loaning me a fraction of Your strength, what allowed You to turn Your back on Your Forsaker, so I could do the same."

He wonders if He's really listening. Aurum lowers his eyes from the flame, just a moment, to gaze downward. "I beg Your forgiveness, Infernal Majesty," he breathes, head bowed. "I sing Your praises, now, aid Your mouthpiece on the Surface to preach electric-"

Aurum straightens, eyes going wide. Memories from centuries ago hit him with force, but for once, they don’t hurt. "Shit, is that what she meant when she'd tell me You said I'd follow in her footsteps? Is this the service You saw for me?"

There's no real answer. A candle cannot speak to reply. He doesn't hear a voice or words, but he knows the warmth blooming in his chest. Not unlike a candleflame. Warmth and comfort in his very core that he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Aurum holds his hand over his heart and knows he’s been heard.

“Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to serve You. I pray I please You as messenger. That I carry the strength and pride to spread Your Word. Nema.”

He stays there for a moment, watching the candleflame dance before snuffing it gently.

Aurum sleeps easy then, exhaustion and the humming of the air conditioning enough a lullaby. The mattress cradles him, and the scratchy sheets are ignorable for once. Darkness takes him but does not take that precious warmth from his chest.

Aurum’s not surprised then, when he finds himself standing before the man who’s been haunting his dreams for centuries. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. He does not call out for his attention.

The flames flicker around them, dancing shadows on the walls of this too familiar dreamscape. The man’s shadow leaps and sputters, little tongues of light catching on bits of gold woven into hair and wrapped around curving horns.

Aurum takes a step forward.

The man tenses, and for the very first time, turns around to face him completely. And as he begins to walk towards Aurum silently, he is no longer a towering, looming creature.

He is just a man.

It’s like staring into a mirror. Aurum stares into his own golden eyes, mouth falling open as he tries to find words and fails. He reaches, fingers shaking. It’s a struggle not to fall to his knees.

The man smiles, something otherworldly shining in his eyes as he takes another step, and another, until he stands within arms’ reach.

“Thank you,” Aurum breathes, chest heaving. “I was so scared I wouldn’t be forgiven. I’ve wronged You over and over and over.”

He shakes his head, that smile still on his face, the warmth of it crinkling his eyes. Aurum watches himself step even closer yet, so close he can feel the heat of his own breath. “It had nothing to do with Him. It was you.”

The man reaches up to cup the back of Aurum’s head in a big hand. Fingertips calloused in a pattern Aurum knows intimately. He lets himself be pulled even closer, until foreheads meet and horns click softly together. They breathe together.

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut so he does not cry. Lets himself be held.

He wakes up peacefully. Blinks slowly awake. The pillow under his head is damp. He laughs wetly, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and hauls himself out of bed to pack up.

He kneels at Copia’s feet that night during Miasma, half in supplication and half in a rush to get him out of that damn skin tight suit. “I think He came to me in my dream, last night. I prayed for the first time in Sisters only know how long. For forgiveness. And guidance. And then He was there.”

Copia’s eyes go wide. The Eye gleams in the darkness backstage. “He did? What did He say?”

“Not much,” Aurum shrugs, helping him step into the next pair of pants. “I think He forgave me? He looked like me. Or He was me.”

Copia hums as he shrugs on his tailcoat. “I think, perhaps, He wanted you to forgive yourself.”

Aurum lets himself sit with that for a moment. His body moves on autopilot to get Copia stage ready once again. “For the things I did to keep myself alive,” he whispers.

It’s not quiet enough for Copia not to hear it. He reaches a hand down to help Aurum haul himself back to his feet. “Exactly, my ghoul. For the things you have carried,” he presses a gloved hand to the center of his chest. “In here. I hope you know you have us to carry that load with you.”

He bites his lip, bowing his head and nodding. “Thank you, Cardinal,” he says. True reverence seeps into his voice and he doesn’t hate himself for it. “For everything.”

Copia opens his mouth to protest, but there’s a call for places, the sax solo blaring loud even through the walls. They both burst into startled laughter, and Aurum steals one more moment to pull Copia in by the back of the head. Presses the chrome covering his forehead to Copia’s carefully.

“I mean it,” he breathes, before parting and scrambling back to their places.

He sings louder than he ever has. He means every last word.

Dew’s guitar acts up towards the end of the Ritual, pickups failing and tuning going flat. Aurum winces as the line of Dew’s shoulders goes rigid with anger and frustration. He almost seems to shove it into the hands of his tech, normally treating the beloved instrument with a little more care. But that doesn’t seem to matter after it’s betrayed him.

He clings to Aether during bows, never more than two feet away. Aurum knows that while Aether’s visible attention is out towards the crowd, he’s already doing damage control. He’s a little too far to make out exact words, but he watches Aether’s lips move and Dew’s posture relax minutely.

Dew walks out of the green room in a huff, the faintest bit of steam curling from his nostrils as he holds back his glamour. “Need a cigarette,” he almost snaps. No one really reacts to this.

This is nothing new, Dew going out to smoke after shows before the rest of the band is ready to go. Aurum pays it no mind. He turns back to the mirror, scrubbing at the grease paint around his eyes.

It’s thick and sticky and if Copia hadn’t insisted on it, Aurum would have thrown the container away after the first show. He feels himself starting to crash, all the adrenaline from performing and the rush of the crowd leaving his body. His muscles are going to start to ache again soon, and the thought of cramming into his bunk later makes it worse.

He stops, takes a deep, sighing breath as he listens to the rest of the band chattering among themselves. Aether’s holding Rain’s hands, quintessence flowing into him to ease sore knuckles, a quiet word to Dew as he leaves. Mountain’s changing into a dry shirt, hair damp as he smiles and listens to Cirrus and Cumulus talking as they redo the braids they’d put into each other’s hair.

It’s in this quiet moment that Aurum realizes something that none of the others has picked up on. Dew’s cigarettes are still on the table, just barely obscured by a discarded chrome mask. He stands, throwing his locs up into a quick bun at the nape of his neck before grabbing the box.

The rest of the pack looks at him, Aether raising an eyebrow. Aurum swallows hard as he feels five pairs of eyes on him. He feels like a moth pinned to a board. “He forgot them,” Aurum weakly tries to explain. “Tryin’ to be nice.”

Aether nods, offers a warm smile and a flash of gold fang, and just like that, the five of them turn back to each other. Cumulus flashes him a bright, dimpled smile as she turns back to her mate and Mountain.

Aurum swallows again past the lump in his throat and leaves the room. He pulls his glamour up tight around himself, keeping his head down as he walks through the halls, stepping out of the way of the venue staff and the roadies.

At the end of the hall, there’s a door propped open by a large stone, a fluorescent red exit sign hanging from the ceiling above. Cool, fresh night air hits his nose long before he steps out of the threshold.

“Dew?” Aurum says cautiously as he steps out into the parking lot. It doesn’t take long to find the fire ghoul, leaning against the brick wall ten feet from the door. He’s rummaging through his pockets, muttering angrily to himself as he searches and comes up empty.

He whips around to glare at him, brow furrowed. Aurum can’t help himself but wince, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back. “I- uh- they were on the table, under your mask,” he says, taking a step towards the fire ghoul, trying to shrink in on himself. Make himself as small as he can. “I didn’t take them, I promise, sorry to bother you-”

“Quit apologizing,” Dew says. It’s harsh enough that Aurum flinches on instinct. Dew takes a deep breath, looks out into the dark parking lot, the lights of whatever city they’re in blocking out the sky. “I mean. I’m not going to accuse you of taking them. You’re fine. Thank you.”

Dew takes the box when Aurum offers them to him. He flips the lid open, snatching one and putting it between his lips. To Aurum’s surprise, Dew then turns back to him, holding out the open pack. “One?”

“Thank you,” he says, taking a cigarette. Dew rummages through his pockets, assumingly for a lighter. “Wait, lemme-”

He snaps, a tiny, glowing flame appearing at the tip of his thumb, grinning teasingly. “Light?”

Dew turns, eyebrow quirking up as a slow smile curls his lips. “You shouldn’t be doing that out here,” he says, leaning in to accept anyways. “Someone could see.”

Aurum gestures out to the mostly empty parking lot. “It’s dark, don’t think anybody’s here.” He lights his own, taking a long drag. The smoke fills his lungs and he feels the tension leave him. Adrenaline starting to come down hard and fast. His hands shake as he holds his cigarette.

They stand and smoke together in silence for a little while. The summer heat leaching away, cool night air replacing it. Aurum watches the smoke curl away from Dew’s nostrils on an exhale.

“I- uh-” Aurum starts, wincing as he breaks the quiet. Dew turns to face him, copper eyes burning through the blue of his glamour.

“Hm?” he asks, ashing his cigarette. Aurum feels pinned, shrinks in on himself. Tries to make the broadness of his shoulders a little more palatable. Not so much a threat.

“I still owe you an apology,” he says. “More than one, really. A lot of them, for a lot of reasons. Starting with coming through that portal and being the reason all of this happened to you.”

Dew just shrugs. Aurum reaches out, hesitating before actually touching the little fire ghoul. “I’ve made my peace with you not being a fire ghoul and what that meant for me,” Dew says, like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. “It’s what His Infernal Majesty wanted for me. He sent you for a reason.”

He winces hard. Tries to school his expression. “You think He meant for you to burn?”

Dew shakes his head. Choppy strands of copper fall from where he’d tied them back for the Ritual, framing the sharp edges of his face. “He meant for me to serve,” Dew says, staring off into the lights of the city. “And I have been more than happy to obey Him for a very long time. It’s been the pride of my lifetime.”

Aurum stares at his hands. “You let yourself be hurt in His name?”

Dew takes a long, drawn out drag from his cigarette. The air smells of nicotine, almost acrid, but it’s a comfort. “There was about a week after you were summoned before I was changed. You were still touch and go. We didn’t know what was going to happen. I prayed on it. A lot. My mate had to drag me away to eat and sleep. Would have spent the entire time in the chapel between that and my grief had he not. I had a lot of things to ask of Him. Some questions were answered, and some I had to find my own answers for. And I came to the conclusion that the pain would be worth it. And so far, it has been.”

There’s silence for a moment. Aurum can feel Dew’s eyes digging into him. He speaks again. “Would it be fair to say that, whatever hurt happened to you, you didn’t think it was worth it?”

Aurum swallows hard. He coughs on the smoke. Dew just watches. “No, not at all,” he says eventually. “It wasn’t anything noble like what you had to- I was a kit. Ghouls I was supposed to be able to trust. I didn’t have much say in the, uh, hurt.”

“Oh,” Dew breathes, leaning back to blow smoke spiraling up into the air. Aurum copies. “I’m sorry.”

Aurum just looks at him. “Not your fault,” he says, turning back to his cigarette. He takes another drag and is grateful he’s not human. He knows he has to sing again tomorrow. “Turned my back on Him when He didn’t help me. Left the City over it. I couldn’t- It wasn’t hurt with a purpose. It just hurt. And now I’m doing this and I’m still not certain I believe in it. Feels wrong to. I’m trying. I dunno. It still feels kind of wrong.” He gestures back at the venue, over to the buses.

Dew just looks at him. He can’t read the look in his eye. “But you’re still doing it.”

“I didn’t want to go back,” Aurum says. “Copia said I could, when I first met him. Thought about it. The idea hurt too much. I was, uh, not in a good spot before I came through. Hurt too much.”

Dew lifts the corner of his lips in a knowing gesture. “Yeah, tracks. I know it’s something you carry with you. The pain,” He glances over, eyes glowing like candlelight, like the butt of his cigarette as he takes another drag. “I suppose I should ask. How are you doing with it?”

Even though he’s not looking, Aurum can almost feel the pity in Dew’s eyes. Something bitter swirls in his stomach when he thinks of that first real conversation with him, choked out through tears in some hotel room hundreds of miles from here. “I’m, uh, trying to make my peace with it.”

“How’s that going for you?” Dew laughs softly as his own words are said back to him, ashing his cigarette onto the pavement.

Aurum glances at him, opening his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. “I, uh, prayed for the first time since I was a kit last night.”

Dew’s eyes go wide. It’s not a surprised expression, rather, something that if Aurum didn’t know any better, would call impressed. “And how did that go, if that’s not pushing it?”

He takes a long drag off of the cigarette and tips his head back to let the smoke swirl out into the cool air. “Had a dream last night, afterwards. Or it was a vision. I dunno. I think He wants me to forgive myself. And that’s rich, saying that to you after what I did.”

Dew shakes his head. “We both did our own fair share of lashing out. I understand. I don’t hold any of it against you, Multi.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. “And thank you for helping me. I know I would have had a hard time helping me, if I were you.”

Dew just shrugs. “Was the right thing to do. Like I told you, we weren’t meant to carry our burdens alone.”

“I’m figuring that out,” Aurum laughs. “I did a damn good job of it until all of a sudden I couldn’t anymore. And that kind of blew up in your faces.”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Don’t apologize for that. You’re learning.”

Aurum opens his mouth to argue when he hears voices that he doesn’t recognize. Dew’s eyes go wide, and both ghouls fall suddenly silent.

“God, what a fucking show,” someone laughs. Three figures come into view, lit by the lights outside the venue, humans dressed in clothing that display the grucifix and the name of the Project. The Cardinal’s face is emblazoned on one of their shirts, and a face Aurum doesn’t recognize on another.

Dew winces at the sight of that face, and Aurum sidesteps closer, offers a hand on the fire ghoul’s shoulder. Dew leans into the touch.

“You could say that again,” a second voice laughs. It’s a young man, hair dyed bright purple, black lipstick and heavy eyeliner a little smudged with sweat. “Thank you for taking me out to see them.”

The third human laughs, a young woman with mousy brown hair and glasses. “Don’t mention it!”

“We hung out a little too late,” the first voice says. A taller woman with dark hair nudges shoulders with the other two. She’s grinning despite the chastising. “I swear, we should meet up more so we’re not hanging out so long that the roadies are done.”

Aurum and Dew share a glance, and Dew takes another drag from his cigarette. Aurum bites back a laugh.

“Sorry,” The man blushes as he laughs, evident even under the low light. The group keeps walking towards the exit of the parking lot. They haven’t seemed to notice the two of them where they’re pressed up against the wall.

“The ghouls were really cool,” the shorter woman says, glancing between her friends. “’Specially the guy in the back, I swear they’re putting on just as much a show as Copia is.”

The man laughs, and the taller woman shoves him playfully. “What were they calling him again?” she asks him. “You should know, you were fawning over him all night.”

“Shut up,” he complains, but there’s no heat in his voice. “They’re calling him Swiss online,” he replies, and Aurum’s eyes go wide. “Like a Swiss Army knife. ‘Cause he does a little bit of everything.”

The two women laugh. It carries on the summer air. “Swiss Army Ghoul, huh?” the taller says.

“Sounds about right.”

They disappear into the night, on their way home with the memory of this particular Ritual to keep, and Aurum blinks. He can feel Dew’s eyes staring at the side of his head. He swallows hard. Something that’s felt out of place for so long falls into order like the last piece of a puzzle.

He glances to Dew and almost recoils in surprise at the fond smile there.

Dew drops his cigarette and grinds the sole of his boot over it. “Swiss, huh?”

Aurum- no.

Not Aurum. Not Aurum, or Fire, or Multi. Not anymore. Never again.

Swiss laughs. It almost sounds like bells. “I- You know what, Dew? I think so.”

“Well then, Swiss,” Dew says, and he’s beaming. “I think we’ve left the others waiting for long enough. Don’t you think?”

He nods. Rolls his shoulders and snuffs out his own cigarette. He can’t stop smiling, his eyes crinkled and cheeks aching with how wide it is. Swiss doesn’t want to ever stop.

Dew kicks the rock propping the door open aside, holds it open. Swiss follows him inside.

The door shuts with a resounding thud behind them.

[casinorabbit]

Yuuna herself is aware of the people that glanced their way until they were sitting at the table, but it felt like the bunny girl herself was throwing glares their way so they would stop staring; her focus back to Sanae once she picked the menu and asked about the strongest drink.

"You may want whiskey or vodka." She's been here so many times, that it didn't take Yuuna long to point to the list where beverages that combined with whiskey or vodka were listed, at the same time that her eyes wandered to look at their surroundings.

"Mind if I order some yakitori for the two of us? So the alcohol doesn't fall on an empty stomach and all." Some self-control she had, because she really wanted to get wasted, and while she did know on an empty stomach the alcohol would hit her faster and harder, she honestly didn't want to end throwing up or getting sick.

Partially, she could almost feel the tension in the air, letting one of her own hands rub over her own throat, like if she was the one holding herself from exploding…but it was the woman in front of her.

"We only…live once." She repeated for herself, before she looked back at Sanae and let both of her arms cross to rest on the table.

"Ya know…I used to be the most popular girl at school." After starting, she let one of her hands rest on one of her hands as her elbow took her weight against the table.

"Popular at school. Top grades. Everyone was after my ass. My parents raised me well…I liked music, so I thought I could eventually become a musician…great! Isn't it? I had the control of my life at the palm of my hand! With my talent, I could get anywhere I wanted. I could have a future, make my parents proud, and probably find someone to fall in love with! I was a hopeless romantic then."

She made a pause, but for one reason or another, she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

"But even when it feels like life's already solved for you, it can turn around completely, and there's nothing you can do to keep it from falling apart…lovers that would cheat on me, or that would simply get with me to use me. Some that didn't put the same effort in the relationship as I did- and that was a child's game in comparison to what would happen next."

Even when she made a brief pause, Yuuna was still smiling. To a point, her expression softened further and she was almost grinning, as if her own bad experiences were amusing to look back to.

"My mother died when I was about to enter college…I got into the one I wanted, but she died on us from breast cancer before I could even tell her- it was, sudden." It was very subtle, hiding behind that attitude of not caring anymore about things that already passed. "Then, my father started to abuse me. Sexually. It made me wonder if I've had been living with a monster for all those years, or if the monster only appeared as soon as mama died."

It's then that she hummed softly, before smiling rather smugly and half-closing her eyes.

"Once I couldn't take it anymore I came to Tokyo to run away…finding a job…I knew from experience I could abuse my looks and my voice to get something, and well…here we are. Now all I'm good for is being a slut. I broke countless hearts, to the point that seeing you argue with Miku reminded me that I'm a fucking idiot, for thinking everyone has the same intentions.

There was a girl once that actually put effort in trying to have something with me, but I ruined it. I stomped on her heart like I did countless times before with others, because I didn't feel it was genuine. I thought they only had an idea of who I was in their mind, that they didn't know Yuuna, just the Lucky Bunny." While she took this as a chance to share a piece of herself, this also was used to lead her to a conclusion.

"The same way a 'perfect' life can fall apart from day to night, I feel some opportunities could have the opposite effect." She swallowed, and even if she wanted to break eye contact, she managed to keep looking at the bartender. "Maybe it's too late to take me out of this rabbit hole, but I feel things can still get better for you, Sanae-san."

Even as she charges in, the internal chain she keeps herself on tugs at her heart. As if she were some bad dog that was misbehaving, needing a good pull to the leash to get herself back in line.

It's because of this that she holds the door open for Yuuna, as much as she would rather pretend like it was her idea to come to this place alone. That Yuuna was just tagging along to annoy her.

But no, she's had enough of pointless acts for the night. What she needs is to forget she has a heart at all, even if it screams in her iron tight clutch. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, the dampness leaving a spot behind, but her expression is...

Blank. She's practiced this before. So much so that she'd have to force herself to cry, if she wanted catharsis from the constant, painful aches.

She doesn't meet the waiter's eyes, nor say a word. Simply follows Yuuna to the table, trying to mentally block out the noise from the other patrons. Some of whom kept staring at the new arrival.

She is too scared doesn't care the way she looks in their eyes. Just survive this, and you'll get to go home.

Picking up the menu, it takes every bit of strength to keep her voice monotone. Yet it remains low, and quiet, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than she already has.

"What's the strongest drink on this menu?"

[omg-snakes]

I was so, so lucky to meet a very special trio of snakes for a class I'm taking on methods in field ecology. One of my two professors is a specialist in garter snakes and was kind enough to bring three different species in for us to compare in person and observe up close. The first was the gorgeous common garter snake, Thamnophis sirtalis, pictures above. She was so calm and well-mannered!

Next was this tiny (by comparison) T. elegans dude, a western garter snake, who was wary of the camera but very patient about being passed around by a group of excited college students. He matched my classmate's sweater perfectly!

Finally, an endangered and incredibly precious T. gigas, the giant garter snake. She's about half of her maximum adult size, so a giant indeed! She musked and peed a bit but for the most part this gojira-faced beauty was pretty chill. We got to observe a full work-up for her including documenting records and microchipping.

She's one of the last of her species. Despite Herculean efforts by her protectors and conservation experts (mostly just one man and his dedicated team), this is a very difficult species to observe in the wild and their habitats are disappearing faster than their need for prioritization of protection in a given area can be assessed. These snakes rely on riparian habitat near rivers, which is also unfortunately a favorite for human development. At this time we don't know how exactly many giant garter snakes are left or whether their current populations are stable.

Today we got to visit their marshland habitat and watch these three go back to the place where they were caught. It was a huge honor and something I'll carry with me forever.

[andy-clutterbuck]

Andy behind the scenes of The Ones Who Live

[xaverie]

And you know what? I-

...what was that?

O-okay...

--James?!

Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. (ΔΣΘ) is a historically African American sorority. The organization was founded by college-educated women dedicated to public service with an emphasis on programs that assist the African American community. Delta Sigma Theta was founded on January 13, 1913 by twenty-two women at Howard University in Washington, D.C. Membership is open to any woman, regardless of religion, race, or nationality. Women may apply to join through undergraduate chapters at a college or university or through an alumnae chapter after earning a college degree.

[simiansmoke]

"What if King Boo licked you, would it be considered a bath... or like, smthin else. considering his tongue pretty big not gonna lie"

"...uhh-NO...?? Baths and grooming are from Kong to Kong only! And potentially other uh...species Kongs might...intermingle with-..."

"NOT THAT THEY DO OR ANYTHING-! Wait...whaddya mean 'SOMETHING ELSE'?!"

[justjwab]

Top 10 posts customer service workers hate reading

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[kurooscopy]

i was so confused by everyone's crash out re: the tumblr buttons bc everything looked the same to me on mobile but.. i just opened desktop 🤢🤢

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[epicwin64]

I had the misfortune to see this so now I have to curse you all with it :(