Spring Arrives... Bringing... Lumiere!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) و ✨

After the Ithaca Saga, I believe that Odysseus thought he and Athena were officially done forever and would only occasionally see each other because she was mentoring Telemachus now. He really thinks there's no way they can reconnect anymore and attempt at a friendship this time, but he's fine with it, he can accept it.

That is until Telemachus goes up to him one day like:

"Hey father, can I ask you something?"

"Yes son, of course."

"You mentored under Athena before right? Do you happen to know a friend of hers?"

"Oh I... I wasn't aware Athena had friends before. She was very adamant about that "No Friends" rule back then... kind of stings."

"Oh really? She talks about him a lot."

"Does she now? *mumbling* must be so special about this fRieNd of Athena..."

"Yeah she told me about this one time he wanted to impress someone, so he climbed on all the way to the tree branch next to the balcony of their room and leaned against the trunk to look cool, but he kept talking to Athena in her owl appearance so he didn't notice the other person going to the balcony and he got so spooked when they called out to him, he turned too fast and lost balance, slipped, smacked his ass on the tree branch and broke his arm when he fell, so he had to wear a sling for 3 months and couldn't sit down for 2 weeks."

"....call Athena right now."

"Why-"

"ATHENA!!!"

The second Athena appeared, Odysseus threw himself at her, on one hand going "YOU CONSIDER ME YOUR FRIEND WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO!?!?!?!" and on the other going "WHY ARE YOU TELLING MY SON ALL MY EMBARRASSING STORIES!?!?! THAT WAS BETWEEN ME, PENELOPE AND YOU!!"

He was actually crying. Athena has absolutely no idea what is happening or what she should do. Telemachus just discovered a whole new side of his dad and might know where he gets it from now....

This has a lot of little details, including: Polites' microphone has a Winion, Poseidon's trident is behind him, and Ody and Penny have their rings.

Pedí ayuda para los personajes a mis seguidores en IG y muchos coincidieron en que Poseidón era el derrotado JAJDJAJAA

LADS men and their green flags

Rafayel

Reassurance

He never lets you wonder if he still loves you, if he still finds you attractive. You don’t even have the chance to finish the horrible thought before he’s complimenting you, telling you how much he adores you. He’s not afraid to bare his heart to you, in fact, he does it quite often with sweet nothings and tiny notes left in your purse. Though he may never be able to express the depth of his love for you, he’s sure as hell going to try.

Xavier

Communication

While he may seem reserved, Xavier has no problem talking through an issue with you. He doesn’t fight - he refuses to. He’s calm, collected. He never wants you to feel unheard, so he listens, even when you feel like you’re talking in circles. You’re not going to bed upset on his watch. He’ll sit with you for as long as you need. He wants you to feel at ease with him, always, even when your thoughts are going a million miles an hour.

Zayne

Support

He doesn’t offer guidance in the way a parent would, but rather, in a way that ensures you’re always feeling your best. Too tired to cook dinner? He’s got it. Don’t feel like washing your hair? Sit down, he’ll handle it. He encourages you to take breaks when you feel like the weight of the world is crushing you. When you feel like your to-do list is simply too long, he shortens it, taking care of as many things as he can so that you can relax. He’d rather die than let you be stressed.

Sylus

Protection

One thing’s for sure, you’ll never feel unsafe around him - physically or emotionally. The strange man that’s been following you? Taken care of. The guy sending lewd texts to your DMs? Vanished. And while your physical safety is of the utmost important to him, your emotional wellbeing doesn’t go uncared for. Pour out your soul to him, he’s listening. And when you can’t, lean on him, cry on his shoulder. He won’t move.

Caleb

Attentive

If you think you can hide anything from him, you’re sorely mistaken. He notices every micro expression, every slight change in your tone, the way your hands fidget when you’re anxious. He knows exactly what to do to bring your smile back. He picks up on the tiny hints you give him when you want something, and he’s eager to provide it. You’ll never lack anything as long as he’s around, he’ll make sure of it.

since Xavier girlies on x is talking about Xavier's ability to go back in time, do you think that he's already past his last spring on earth but he just keeps going back in time just before it ends?

I Exist to Nobody (but you.) – Part 1

Summary: You meet your soulmate on a serendipitous afternoon in your grandparents' backyard.

And on all levels except physical, Xavier is a normal boy.

Word Count: 4.2k

Tags: fem!reader x xavier, you x xavier (no use of Y/N), imaginary friend AU, imaginaryfriend!xavier, childhood friends (to lovers, but not in this chapter!), themes of codependency?, lil sprinkle of family issues lol, growing up, time skips as a plot device, again– pretty self-indulgent 

A/N: I understand that AUs aren’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay! Xavier’s always been a comfort character to me and I wanted to write something different for him, which led to this baby <3 

(art + banners are made by urs truly x)

Part I

You stand a little over three feet, and your hair is in braids. 

You’re wearing your Sunday special; a pretty purple dress with a frilly skirt and your favorite pair of stripe-print leggings. Your sparkly jelly ballerinas have been long since discarded somewhere in the grass as you run barefoot in your grandparents’ backyard. 

You’re playing hopscotch by yourself, with the family Shiba for company. The sky is starting to turn into a pretty orange hue and you hear your mom calling from inside the house when you see something white move from the corner of your eye. 

With all the curiosity befitting a four-year-old, your tiny feet carry you in the direction where you saw it; near the mossy undergrowth, beneath the canopy shade of the old Kousa dogwood tree that stood for more than four generations behind the residential building you’d spent some days hiding in when you didn’t want to go back inside for dinner. 

It’s as safe a spot to you as it is familiar, so it takes you by surprise when you find something unexpected; in the form of a small, pale boy with hair the color of rain clouds in the summer, sitting with his legs up to his chin, looking like one of those little elves in your fairytale books. 

A pair of blue eyes meet yours, alight in childlike wonder.

_____

Xavier doesn’t know how he came to be; just that he’s now present in this plane of existence, in the phantom body of a four-year-old boy, in a place he knows human beings call a back-yard. 

He knows this—just as he knows things on an objective level; like what a house is, what the creature covered in fur is called (a small wolf), or what a human girl looks like. 

What he doesn’t understand is the knee-jerk reaction to hide when his sudden appearance catches your attention, which brings him to his current attempt at concealing himself amidst a thicket; beneath the tree with star-like blooms. 

He doesn’t account for the beating of his heart when your searching gaze lands on him, nor the unfamiliar excitement of being seen feels like. 

“Hi!” You finally exclaim after a few seconds of consideration, squatting down in front of him. Xavier notices that you’re missing a front tooth when you give him a big smile. He also notices how his heartbeat quickens at the sight. “Are you an elf?!” 

“No,” he responds quietly. “I’m human. I think.” 

His voice sounds odd to his ears. 

“Oh,” you say with an undercurrent of disappointment. “Well, that’s okay! I’m human too!”

You say it with such enthusiasm that Xavier’s lips pull up in a hesitant smile.

Bouncing back up to your feet, you pat away the nonexistent dirt from your dress and extend a hand towards him. “D’you wanna play with me? Oh, oh—we can play hide-and-seek! You seek, I hide!” 

You're off to run somewhere before he could answer. He doesn't know what hide-and-seek entails, nor what it means to be amongst the living.

He doesn’t know that many things, but he thinks he’d like to know more about you.  

___

You head inside the house after your mom calls you for a fourth time, her voice straining in (rising) agitation. Towing behind you is your new (best!) friend, who you decide is joining you for dinner.

“This is Xavier!” You point at the boy sitting on the chair you dragged near yours, eyes wide as he takes in the spread on the table in front of him. “I saw him outside and we played hide-and-seek!”

Your mom exchanges a look with your grandmother. She glances at the chair beside you, then at you. 

She sees your wide grin. Resigned, she sighs and smiles indulgently. 

“Hello, Xavier.” 

The boy perks up at that. She could also–?

…No. 

It’s not obvious at first glance. But when he studies the expression of the woman who shares the same nose and chin as his new friend, he notices that her eyes look past him. Not at him. 

Xavier falters upon realizing the… facade. He is aware that his form isn’t as corporeal compared to yours. His skin has a certain translucent quality to it, more obvious under the stark, fluorescent lighting. The manner in which he moves isn’t unlike the minute particles floating in the air; more buoyant, less solid. Less tangible. Less aliv–

You squeal in excitement, and he’s distracted. He watches as you turn in your seat to face him– to look straight into his eyes and tell him—

“I’m your bestest friend now, okay?” 

You say it as a statement; like a promise. And for a second, he feels more present in the world.

So you are. His bestest friend. 

Xavier’s chest feels warm; he likes the sound of that. 

___

“Grandpa, Xavier says your beard looks funny!”

“Huh? Who’zat??” 

_____

You learn the concept of an imaginary friend after introducing Xavier to person number six, who happens to be your preschool teacher. 

You overhear her discussing boring adult stuff with your mom when the latter comes to pick you up after school. You and Xavier are in a corner, playing princess and knight. It’s just the two of you, away from the other kids, since your friends refused to join when you’d asked them if they wanted to play too. 

Or rather— they don’t think it’s fair that you just made someone up to be the knight, and have them play the villains. 

That confused you. You also notice how it made your best friend sad. So in the end, you decided that you don’t need anyone else! Xavier is already the best knight who is now also an evil dragon.

“Honey, don’t you want to play with your other classmates?” Your teacher, Miss Dahlia, asks you as she and your mom amble closer to where you and Xavier are; her tone gentle, yet careful. 

You shake your head, a ‘harrumph!’ leaving your mouth. “They didn’t wanna play villains with us. But ‘sokay, Xavier is an evil knight dragon now.” 

Miss Dahlia smiles the same smile your mother gave you at dinner last night. “Oh, of course, sweetie. But maybe you and… Xavier can find someone else to join you?” 

Your brows furrow, starting to feel irritated about the whole thing. “I told you, they don’t wanna! They said they dun’ wanna have someone made up play the knight!” 

Your mom sighs and the two share a look. 

After a moment of hesitation, your teacher begins to explain how your friends “may not be able to see” Xavier since he’s special and only appears to you. That “It’s good you’re being very independent, sweetie, as long as you don’t let Xavier prevent you from hanging out with your actual friends.”

Because, according to Miss Dahlia, he’s just an imaginary friend. 

You blink, not understanding. Xavier is silent beside you. “Huh?” 

You’re looking at the boy in question, trying to make sense of how the other kids—and apparently, everyone else—can’t see him when he’s sitting right there. You don’t understand, and it’s making you more annoyed. 

So the moment Miss Dahlia finishes talking, you tell her that you’re happy playing with just Xavier, and that you’re gonna continue to play princess and evil knight dragon now, please and thank you. 

___

Back home, you and your imaginary friend lie starfish on the floor of your bedroom. You stay quiet while you count the barely visible water spots on your ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

He doesn’t. 

Feeling fidgety, you break the silence. “They don’t see you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” 

“But I see you.” You stress the word, turning on your left to look at Xavier when you say it. 

“Yes,” He agrees, twisting his head to the right so that he’s facing you too. You try to figure out how he’s feeling about the situation—with all the naivety of a child your age—but his expression doesn’t give much away. 

You’re about to ask him directly when, finally, his lips curve into a small smile. A knot loosens in your chest.

“Don’t worry,” Xavier assures you. “That’s enough for me.” 

_____

You lost another round of hide-and-seek.

“‘S not fair,” you grouse, stomping a foot in frustration. “You always find me so fast!”

“We could always play tag instead,” Xavier offers. 

“As if you don’t win at tag too!” 

_____

It’s another bright, sunny Tuesday and your mom leaves you with her usual instruction to behave well for Mrs Dela Peña, a kind—albeit a little strict—lady in her mid-seventies who lives a block away from your house, and your babysitter since you were in diapers. You’re eight now, and starting to make heads with your multiplication tables, but your mom still thinks you’re a big baby that needs looking after. 

You think you’re old enough to be left alone during your summer break when she has to go to work, but she refuses to leave you by your lonesome no matter how much you insist. 

“I have Xavier with me anyway!” 

Your mom just shakes her head whenever you use that as an argument, not bothering with a response. 

So with the usual pout on your face, you stand at the front door with your arms crossed as you grudgingly bid your mother goodbye. 

“–and don’t forget to eat all your greens later for lunch, okay?” She reminds you one last time before giving you a wet kiss on the forehead. You scrunch your nose as you wipe it off. “Love you, honey. I’ll be home by six.” 

And off she goes. You turn to face Xavier—whose hair is a little longer now, almost past his chin, but with eyes the same shade of marble blue—and complain, “She always treats me like a little kid!” 

“But you are a kid,” he tells you, sounding a little confused by your ire. “And it’s normal for parents to care for their children, no matter how old they are.” 

You grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “I know, but you’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am on your side,” Xavier says, blinking innocently. “I tell you when Mrs Dela Peña isn’t looking so you could hide your broccoli before she sees.” 

He does make for a good lookout. You divert the subject. 

“Okay, whatever. But we’re still on Project: Veggie Throw, right?” You ask him, excitement replacing the crabbiness from a moment ago.

Xavier hums in assent, both him and you sharing the same aversion for all things leafy and (barely) edible, despite the other one’s inability to eat. 

Apparently, just explaining to him the yuckiness of a watercress salad is enough for him to take your side of things. 

Xavier sneaks into the kitchen—quiet as a mouse, as usual—to observe the old woman who’s starting to prepare for lunch. He notes the celery stalks being chopped on a wooden board and makes a sound of disgust.

The little phantom boy waits until the woman finishes the rest of the vegetables to put on a corner before calling out to you:

“The veggies are contained in one spot, agent. Over.” 

Your head pops out to peek from behind the wall that connects to the kitchen. Xavier, who’s now sitting cross-legged on the countertop close to the awning window, waves you towards the sink while Mrs Dela Peña’s busy taking something out of the fridge. 

Trying your best to move swiftly before she could catch you in the act, you zip straight to where the sliced vegetables are, bath towel ready to snatch them away when—

“There’s that tuxedo cat again from yesterday,” Xavier casually comments, peering through the open blinds. “I think he’s brought a friend this time.”

Like second nature, you respond without thinking, “You mean Mr Snuffles?”

“...”

“...”

“Oh, I didn't see you there, sweetie!” Mrs Dela Peña exclaims, eyes crinkling from the smile that graces her face as she sees your frozen form over by the aromatics. “Would you like to help with the cooking? Oh-ho! Be a dear now and soak those mung beans in water, will you?” 

“... Sorry,” Xavier sheepishly offers, then shrinks down from your betrayed look. 

You end up on stir duty. The large pot filled with beans and green produce seems to bubble ominously as you’re forced to listen to the same story about Mrs Dela Peña’s neighbor for the nth time. 

An apologetic Xavier dutifully recites to you the play-by-play on how Mr Snuffles and his racoon friend are rummaging through the trash bins as penance, and you swear to be more conscious of your audience next time you’re speaking to your invisible friend. 

_____

You’re in fourth grade, and exam week is coming up.

You look at the textbooks that are laid neatly on the living room table, untouched. Then at the TV. Maybe you could sneak in one episode before—

“No screen time before you finish studying, dearie!” An older Mrs Dela Peña calls out from the kitchen, apparently having a sixth sense for children and their sneaky ways. “Your mother wants you to complete the set of exercises she’s left for you there before you watch your an-e-mays.” 

Groaning in response, you let your head fall down onto the table with a thunk. “But it’s booooring!”

Xavier hums sympathetically, patting your head with a spectral hand. “I can read beside you. Do you want me to ask you the questions?” 

“I want to watch Killua beat those guys at dodgeball,” you sulk, voice coming out a little muffled against the oakwood surface. “Not memorize dates from, like, a hundred years ago.” 

“Killua isn’t here to help you with The Revolution, I am.” You’re caught off-guard by the shortness in Xavier’s tone, enough to raise your head to stare at your friend curiously. He keeps his gaze fixed on the questionnaire in front of him. 

Wait. That gives you an idea.

“I think I know how you could help me, Xavi,” You say slowly, excitement creeping in your voice. Why haven’t you thought of this before??

The pouting boy tilts his head in confusion. You start explaining what you have in store for him for the next couple of days, and before you even finish your spiel, the pout is gone and Xavier’s nodding along with your plan, seeming to be fully on board. 

The idea that his… nonphysicality could finally be of use to you has him feeling oddly giddy. You, on the other hand, look identical to a cat that ate the canary as you reach for the remote. 

Seems like you’ll be able to watch your second favorite pale-haired boy after all. 

___

You’ve been asked to stay after class, two days before the end of midterms. 

Your history teacher has been on it with your adviser for a while now, in a heated argument about your test results. Well, yours and another student in your class. 

“How is that even possible? He’s sitting three rows behind her!” 

“I don’t know how she did it, but they even got the same answer to the third essay down to the last sentence!” 

You and your partner-in-crime share a look of alarm. Uh-oh.

Any attempts at making you fess up led to nowhere. You keep denying all claims of cheating, and your adviser recalls nothing that could warrant suspicion on the day of your World History exam. 

Without enough conclusive evidence of your dishonesty for them to be able to pin the blame on you and call it a day, their resolution to this ‘conundrum’ is to have you take another test in the faculty office tomorrow after school, under the watchful eyes of two (wary) teachers. 

-

-

-

You let Xavier help you one last time—by relaying to you the answers from the paper tucked between two books on your teacher’s desk—before deciding that it’s probably for the best if you refrain from using your invisible friend for anything that could cause you more trouble in the long run; especially on the remaining days left of midterm week. 

Xavier looks deflated, but agrees. (The pout is back, though.) 

_____

“Where’d you get the name Xavier anyway?”

“It came to me in a dream,” he says cryptically. His face betrays nothing, so you can't figure out whether he’s telling the truth or just messing with you. 

“... Right.”

Xavier hides a smile. 

_____

“Hey, what are they talking about?” You ask Xavier from your perch on top of the staircase. You’ve been eavesdropping on the conversation downstairs for a while now, but you could barely make sense of the words being thrown around except for a couple of bad ones. 

Xavier cocks his head to the side, trying to listen in as well, before deciding to just transport himself closer to the source. 

Your dad, a man that you’ve spent considerably less time with compared to your grandfather (or basically everybody else, for that matter), came to visit today for reasons that aren’t really clear to you. But judging from the hushed whispers and periodic bouts of angry shouting down the living room, it isn’t for anything good. 

Your mom frequently uses the term “deadbeat”, and sometimes when she’s really in a mood, “a good-for-nothing waste of a man” when describing your father. You don’t have much of a relationship with him to feel offended on his behalf so you just nod along and agree when your mom goes off in a tirade.

You wonder sometimes, how things would be if you had a dad. A better one, perhaps. The kind of dad that picks you up after school in an SUV, just like how the dads from your class do for their kids. Or someone that’d take longer “shifts” at work to bring home enough to take care of the family, like how your mom does.

You wonder what it would be like to spend the holidays with another parent – the three of you welcoming New Years at home with a bunch of round fruits and maybe some sparklers, instead of having to sleep early at your grandparents’ house. 

Xavier floats back to your side after a few minutes, face set in a frown. “They’re saying something along the lines of moving somewhere nearer the city and finalizing the papers for the divorce. Your father’s talking about remarrying, as well.” 

It’s relayed to you in monotone, like someone reading off a script—or reciting exactly what they’ve heard sans the curse words—that it takes you a moment to process the information. 

After a beat, the only thing that comes out of you is a small, “oh.”

“Are you… okay?” 

It doesn't take much time for you to shake your head, along with the passing pipe dream you’ve entertained, if only for a few short minutes. 

You stand up from your crouched position near the top banister, leaving your little hiding spot to go back to your room. Xavier follows. 

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a shrug. “Do you wanna read Nightwing with me?” 

He agrees, of course. If he curls up closer to you when you stay up later that night to stare quietly at the glowing stars on your bedroom walls, neither of you brings it up in the morning.

_____

You had a fight with your mother earlier today. Xavier’s with you while you sit quietly on the tire swing behind your house. 

“Would you come with me if I go someplace far away from ‘ere?” 

“How far do you want to go?” 

“I dunno,” you shrug half-heartedly. “It’d be cool if we could go live on a planet of our own, don’cha think?” 

“Just the two of us?”

“Yeah. Somewhere I can just…” You struggle to find the words, but you settle on– “Breathe, I guess.” 

A flock of birds fly eastward. Envy colors you green as you think about the fact that they could call any place home without being tied down to a single location. 

“I’d like that,” Xavier smiles. “Maybe we could, one day. Once mankind improves the means for intergalactic travel.” 

“...Whatever you say, Xavi.” 

_____

It's your twelfth birthday.

You’re sitting at the head of the table surrounded by friends and family as they sing you a happy birthday. In front of you is a sunflower yellow buttercream cake with rainbow sprinkles and two lit candles in the shape of a large ONE and TWO. 

“Happy birthday to you,”

You watch your friends; girls in school that you grew up with since kindergarten, and some boys that you’ve climbed trees with during lunch breaks. Almost all of them have already gone through one or two phases over the course of years you’ve known them, and some you consider your closer friends are even acting a little distant as of late, already outgrowing old interests that you’d once shared. 

Even the general consensus on shows like Adventure Time and Spongebob has changed drastically ever since they all started watching Disney Channel. Flashy cell phones and handheld consoles are traded in place of old Barbie dolls and LeapFrog books; the latter are now kept hidden inside a dusty box underneath the bed, like forgotten relics of a simpler time.

“Happy birthday to youuu,”

They look different now, too. Some shot up in height, others gained a measly few inches. Some ditched the braids in exchange for a shag cut. The cooler kids even started wearing makeup. 

(You think you’d like to try putting on eyeliner if your mom wasn’t so strict.)

“Happy birthday, dear– ouch!” A yelp. “Jeremy, you dumdum, stop moving the cake too much!” 

Your gaze then shifts to your right, almost instinctively, to a space that all your other guests would find empty.

There, always by your side, your best friend remains the same as ever. Not the same in the sense that he looked the way he did when you first saw him eight years ago in your grandparents’ backyard, no. You’re not blind to the changes he’s gone through, in stages similar to your own. 

He’s grown taller, for one; almost as tall as you are now. The chub in his cheeks lost some of its roundness, and his limbs are lankier. His hair went through phases of being short, long, and the awkward in-between. When you had asked a couple years back how he’s able to change the length of it without going to a salon, he simply said he does it “to match yours when you do.” 

All-in-all, his physical appearance passes as a regular twelve-year-old boy, if not for the slight ‘otherworldly’ aspect one could probably… overlook. So ‘the same’ isn’t really how you’d describe him. 

“–happy biiirthday to youuu!” 

Xavier mouths the song along with the people in your life, his gaze trained on you the entire time. You look into the same galaxy-blue that you’ve associated with home, comfort, and just Xavier in every way—and you understand.

Constant. The word you're looking for is constant. 

You blow out your candles, wishing it could last forever. 

_____

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too old for an imaginary friend, dear?” 

_____

Xavier finds you up the roof one rainy afternoon. You look like you’ve been crying. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach from the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. He sidles beside you, close enough that his right side almost merges with your left. 

(He’d like to imagine that you could feel him—as a source of warmth, of comfort to you while you shiver from both the cold and the heavy emotions weighing you down. He wishes he could be more than just a presence.)

“M-mom said that,” you sniff, angrily rubbing away the wetness in your eyes with the back of your hand. “–tha’ when I grow older, you won’t show up anymore.

That—that you’d be gone, ‘cos imaginary friends don’t stay with you when you’re all grown up.” Your bottom lip wobbles by the end of your sentence. 

A dark rain cloud looms overhead, signaling the coming of a storm stronger than the current downpour that’s drenching you to the bone. 

“You won’t leave me, would you, Xavi?” You whisper, turning to gaze at your dearest friend with greedy eyes, committing his form to memory, just in case he– “You won’t disappear on me, right?” 

There’s a crackle of energy in the air; a drop in temperature that causes the fine hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

“I don’t want you to ever go away.” 

(Neither does he.)

Something builds up inside Xavier. A desire, a need stronger than the limitations of the circumstance he’s dealt with since the beginning of his existence. It’s as vast and tumultuous as the birth of a star, and equally as brilliant. 

(He wants, he needs, he wishes–)

An answer from the high heavens comes in the form of a lightning strike, illuminating the world in a blinding veil of white for less than a second. The resounding “crack!” feels like a blessing. Like an affirmation from the court of gods listening in on the boy’s plea. 

A boon is granted, born from an ambition so great. And for a moment, Xavier burns brighter than any of the billion pinpricks of light in the night sky. 

-

-

-

On a roof, two children sit facing each other under a raging tempest, threads of fate tying them together in an unbreakable bond. 

Snip.

Something falls into place. 

“Never,” he vows. “I’ll always be with you. Forever.” 

Jacked and Kind

Their reaction after you ask them to do the TikTok trend "Slim Pickins" where they had to lift you on their shoulder.

content: soft, fluff, teasing, playful love

you can request, just comment! ( I'm still

trying to get the hang of tumblr)

now playing: Out Of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums

—SYLUS—

“You already know I’m the only one who can handle you.”

The moment you even mention the trend to Sylus, he doesn't just smirk—he practically grins. The look on his face is the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst—and best—ways.

“Oh, this?” he says, waving his hand dismissively, already sizing you up. “I could do this with my eyes closed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you think you can lift me?”

“I know I can,” he replies, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Without another word, he steps toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before he pulls you into his arms. You have no time to protest or even think—he just does it.

His grip is firm, like a confident god of strength who knows exactly what he’s doing. When he lifts you, it’s with a fluid, almost lazy motion that has you gasping. The way he spins you, though? Pure grace—a showman, a professional. He moves like a man who’s done this a thousand times, completely in control.

And then—he looks at you. Really looks at you, his eyes narrowing in a playful challenge as he spins you once more.

“Told you,” he says with a cocky smirk. “I’m built different.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him. And when he sets you down, he doesn’t release you immediately. No, he holds you a moment longer, as if savoring the power he has over you—he knows how you feel. He knows you’re already slipping deeper.

When the video’s over, Sylus doesn’t bother to check it for perfection. He already knows it’s flawless. Instead, he watches it back, not for the usual reasons, but to admire the way his jawline looks when he lifts you, and the way you’re gazing up at him. The look on your face? It drives him crazy.

“I might let you try again,” he says casually, tossing the phone aside, “but you’ll have to earn it.”

—XAVIER—

“I’ll always catch you.”

When you mention the “Slim Pickins” trend to Xavier, there’s a long pause. He tilts his head, evaluating you like you just gave him an equation to solve, but with a flicker of curiosity behind his eyes. It’s not so much about whether he can do it—it’s about how effortlessly he can dominate the moment.

“Lift you?” he says, voice almost amused, “If I’m going to do this, it’ll be right. You’re not going to just spin around like some amusement park ride.”

You grin, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not playing. He’s calculating. There’s a certain type of precision Xavier brings to everything, and this won’t be any different.

Without asking for further instruction, he strides toward you, grabbing your waist in a way that makes it feel like it’s both deliberate and instinctive. No warnings. No dramatic buildup. Just his firm, steady grip on you as he effortlessly lifts you off the floor, bringing you flush against his shoulder.

Your breath hitches, but you can’t even be surprised. The man doesn’t do things halfway. When he spins you, it’s smooth. Measured. You can tell by the way he moves, the way he holds you, that this isn’t about performing for an audience—it’s about you.

He keeps his eyes locked on you the entire time, his gaze softening just slightly—because this moment is just for the two of you. You can feel it in the way his hands don’t falter, even as he twirls you once, slow, savoring the moment.

“I’ll always catch you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, his lips almost brushing your ear.

The spin ends. You’re dizzy, breathless, caught in the gravity of Xavier’s touch, but it’s the quiet look he gives you after that leaves your heart hammering. You swear you see something soft in his eyes, just for a second, before he’s back to his usual cool composure.

“Perfect,” he says, straightening himself up. “That’s how it’s done.”

Later, when he watches the video, Xavier doesn’t act overly impressed—of course not. But he does run his fingers through his hair, catching a glimpse of the way his jawline looks in the frame, and then you catch him replaying it, just once more. His eyes linger on the way you looked at him, his lips twisting into a small, satisfied smile.

“I told you,” he mutters quietly to himself, “I’ve got this.”

But when he turns to you, there’s no smugness, no cocky grin. Just a quiet confidence, the kind that only Xavier knows how to wear.

—RAFAYEL—

“Don’t tempt me if you’re not ready for the consequences.”

When you mention the trend to Rafayel, he just grins. That grin. You know it’s coming—the one that means he’s already making a plan in his head. A plan where he’s the center of attention. He’s the star, the drama, the flair, the whole damn show.

“You want me to lift you? Spin you? Sweetheart, you’re gonna need to be ready for me to make this unforgettable.”

You laugh at his cockiness, but it’s clear—he’s all in.

Without another word, he takes your hand and pulls you toward the center of the room. His eyes shine with mischief as he shuffles his feet, getting into position, and you can’t help but notice the way he’s casually flexing—like he’s preparing for a performance.

“Stand still. Let me show you how it’s done.”

You barely have time to blink before his arms are around you. His grip is secure, but there’s still a fluidity to his movements, like he’s done this a hundred times in his head—but now, it’s for real.

He spins you with the smoothness of a dancer, his laugh melodic as your feet leave the ground. The camera shakes slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the way your heart beats as you look up at him. That look he gives you? Pure mischief and challenge, like he knows you’re already falling harder. And you are.

“I told you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he spins you again, just a little too fast. “No one can lift you like I can.”

And then, with one final dramatic flourish, he dips you low—so low you’re sure he’s about to kiss you. Instead, he pulls away just as quickly and gives you a teasing smile.

“You’re welcome, babe.”

The video is pure art, and when it’s posted, it gets way more attention than you anticipated. Rafayel doesn’t care, though. He adores it. Every comment, every heart. But more than that, he loves the way you look at him, like you’re seeing him for the masterpiece he truly is.

Later that night, he’s already planning the next “performance.” He looks at you with that grin.

“You’re doing it with me next, right? You wouldn’t want to miss out on the magic, would you?”

—ZAYNE—

“Don’t fall for me. Too late.”

You bring up the "Slim Pickins" trend, and Zayne doesn't immediately react. Instead, he raises an eyebrow like he's trying to figure out if this is a joke or a test of some kind.

“You want me to spin you?” he asks, voice flat. “I don’t know... sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

But his eyes are already scanning the room, sizing up where he’ll stand, making sure the space is clear. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, but it’s clear that he’s not going to let this go untested.

“Fine. But don’t expect me to do some over-the-top move. This isn’t one of those ‘show-off’ TikTok trends.”

You grab your phone, get into position, and wait for him to come closer. He studies you for a second, then steps into the right stance—his usual controlled precision showing as he holds out his hand. You take it, feeling the strength there, but there’s no teasing smile, no playful taunt. Just a simple, low key statement from him:

“I don’t need to be flashy. Just trust me.”

And when he lifts you, it’s effortless. His grip is firm but not overbearing, his stance calculated as he holds you easily. You don’t feel a single ounce of uncertainty, only the surprising softness in his expression that he rarely lets anyone see.

As he spins you, slow and steady, you realize this isn’t just a casual lift—this is his version of intimacy. No fanfare, no public displays—just you, him, and the soft whisper of his breath in your ear as he keeps his gaze focused on you the entire time.

“You alright?” he asks, voice quiet.

You nod, breathless. The TikTok ends, and he sets you down with a gentle ease that feels almost too gentle for the Zayne you know.

Afterward, he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal—no smug smile, no victory dance. But later, when you're going over the video together, you catch him rewinding the clip, watching it closely. His lips twitch upward slightly, the faintest hint of pride, before he looks away quickly, as if trying to hide it.

“Next time, warn me when you’re going to ask for something ridiculous.”

But you see it. The way he looks at you in the video, like he’s ready to fight anyone who dares challenge his place beside you.

—CALEB—

“This is the best day of my LIFE!”

When you mention doing the “Slim Pickins” trend, Caleb practically jumps off the couch. No hesitation. No questions. Just excitement.

“Wait, really? YES! I’ve been waiting for something like this!” His voice is so full of energy it makes you laugh.

He’s already in motion, practically dragging you to the center of the room before you can even explain what you need. The excitement is infectious, and you can feel your own heart start to race as he pulls you closer.

“Okay, okay, okay—here we go! Hold on tight!” he says, his voice just a little too over-the-top as he lifts you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

There’s no fear, no hesitation, just sheer joy as he spins you—fast, maybe a little too fast—but it’s all in good fun. His laugh is contagious, and when you both stop, slightly dizzy from the spinning, you realize he’s absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you see that? Was that good? I swear, I could lift you forever.”

The video is a mess—you're both laughing too hard, the camera shaking, but that doesn’t stop Caleb from loving it. He insists on redoing it because, as he puts it:

“I didn’t get my hair right. Let me try again.”

Every time he spins you, he gives you the biggest grin, his eyes practically glowing. This isn’t just about the trend—this is Caleb, enjoying the moment, living in it with you. And when the final video is done, he posts it, captioning it with:

If you think this is fun, just wait until I pick her up for real.

You can’t help but laugh. He’s so genuine, so infectious in his energy. And when you watch the video together, you notice how incredibly proud he is—like he’s just won a trophy, and you’re the prize.

Wazzup, thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions, comment down bellow:) (been experimenting with them banners, lmao) byeee - Zane 𖹭

Xavier is as fast as light

he may appear laid back, harmless and “tired” most of the time—but u have to understand he’s very attentive and quick on his feet, particularly when it comes to defending or protecting MC

so imagine Jeremiah getting too comfortable with you, and playfully says “fuck off..”

before you can respond, Xavier’s much quicker to bark back “watch it”, now fully awake.

In which Jeremiah would raise his hands in defeat “sorry, forgot he’s here—don’t fuck off then”

≡;-꒰ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : established relationship, general teasing and banter, kisses, cuddles, lots and lots of fluff, xavier glows when he's happy <3

wc : 2k

an : I MISS HIM. I MISS HIM I MISS HIM I MISS HIM I MISS HIM I MISS HIM AHUHUHUHU i needed to get this out of my system omg,,, this is the happiest i've been with writing for a while tysm @bunbunnies for the request AND HAPPY WHITE DAYYY !! (p.s. please listen to the song i swear it adds to the vibes) (p.p.s. additional tag @ourlittleuluru for also inspiring this hehe)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

Everyday is enough of a special day as long as it's with you.

Your eyes blinked open.

The advantage of sleeping in Xavier's room was that the blinds were drawn—it was the perfect environment to be conducive for sleep, so much so that the peaked, late-afternoon sun, did little to stir you awake. The sheets were warm, and cozy, and soft… You could sink into the mattress, so cloud-like and weightless.

It was dangerous, in a sense. Staying here made you forget what other things you had on your to-do list for the day. But turning your head to the side to rest your eyes upon the soundly sleeping figure next to you made everything worth it. Warm sunlight peeked in slightly through the blinds, illuminating the room in a soft, dim glow, but you didn't really need it. If anything, the only light you felt that you needed was right here, right next to you.

You noticed faint, barely-noticeable particles of light floating around the crown of his head, and you smiled.

Those weren't from the sunlight.

He must be having a good dream…

You shifted slightly. The movement pulled you away from his embrace just a little bit, but it was enough to get him to stir.

"Mmmnh…"

He didn't open his eyes, but his arms tugged you closer by the waist. An instinctive reaction, you could only assume, and a soft laugh fell from your lips in response. Something about the way he held you made him feel akin to a weighted blanket; despite being clearly asleep, his grip on you was firm enough that you could barely wiggle free from him this time.

You felt sleepy nuzzles into your shoulder, and you smiled and pat his arm.

Pats wouldn't work, of course.

Gently, you shook him, trying to nudge him off of you.

Bleary eyes opened, vision unfocused.

"What… time is it?"

A playful scoff on your end. "Gee, I dunno, Xavier. I'm kinda stuck here."

He blinked, for a moment. Once, twice. It took a while, and you patiently waited, eyebrow raised as your words—and the way he was hugging you so firmly—finally registered in his head. A hint of sheepishness was present on his gaze as he allowed you free from his grasp. You were quick to soothe with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

He sat up with you as you moved to reach for your phone, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see him rubbing his eyes as if it would do anything to help the sleepiness subside.

12:30 in the afternoon.

This was new—you never got to sleep in this much when you were alone, but sleeping with Xavier seemed to bring out newer, sleepier, admittedly lazier sides to you that you didn't know you could have. It was a good thing, of course; at least this time, you could actually rest. There was something freeing about it. Xavier never judged you for sleeping in with him; in fact, he'd much rather have you do just that than wake up without him.

And then your eyes drifted towards the date.

February 14th.

A moment of realization dawned.

You'd gotten so caught up in this just being another simple, restful day off, that you'd completely forgotten…

Slowly, sheepishly, you set your phone down and turned to Xavier.

Still clearly a little out of it, he was sitting up, staring blankly in your general direction. It seemed as if his mind was still asleep, slow blinks not particularly focusing on even you, or anything else. His hair was a mess, a few strands sticking out. His pajama top looked a little skewed—no doubt, if he could still be under the covers at this very moment, he certainly would have been.

But he also looked so freaking cute.

A moment of silence passed like that, a silly smile on your face as you tilted your head—because how could you look away from that? Few others would have the privilege of seeing the Association's most formidable Hunter doing adorable little eye rubs and trying to stay awake in his own bed. In fact, no one else probably did aside from you. And it was a sight to appreciate.

It didn't take too long for his gaze to focus back on you, and, whether out of another instinctual pull or out of a slight sense of embarrassment for realizing you'd been staring at him this whole time, he pulled you back against his chest. Automatically you curled your figure into him, ear resting against his heart as you listened to its ever-steady thrum.

"…It's almost one in the afternoon," you huffed. Yet there was no resistance in your voice; your arms wrapped around him in a reciprocal manner.

"Mhm. But… I want to stay like this a while longer."

"This is unfair, you're just too comfy…"

He shifted, coaxing your head up to look at him. Upon meeting his gaze, you could see that most of the sleep had since melted away to give way to a certain sense of fondness. "We don't have plans today," he murmured. "Can't we stay in a little longer?"

It was so difficult to say no.

A smile peeked at the corners of your lips.

"Well… how about, what do you want to eat later? We've missed breakfast, so this might as well be…"

"Brunch… right?"

"Mhm!" Your eyes fluttered as he reached over to trace your cheek, light, gentle touches that lulled you into a sense of comfort. "We could… order some takeout, maybe? It's been a while…"

"Sure. We can order from that place you like."

You watched, your own gaze softening, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Xavier…"

"What do you want to do today?"

He tucked an awry strand of your hair away from your face this time, but the question made your eyes light up. Something in you knew what he wanted to hear—that he probably, likely wanted to just stay in and sleep.

Yet, you sat up, and you could have laughed at his expression. He blinked, taking another moment to process, and his brows furrowed ever so slightly. Unlike last time, he didn't sit up with you.

"I… I have an idea!" you nudged him. "Listen, you said so yourself. We don't have plans today… And, remember all those movies we said we'd watch together? Isn't this the perfect time for us to—"

He cut you off.

Another second had you practically yanked back down to him, and you let out a laugh.

"Five more minutes…"

—

You wondered if it was supposed to end up this way.

Messing around in the kitchen turned brunch into an odd combination of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, another reminder of just how easily things could flow into their own thing, when it was just the two of you. You could argue about how unhealthy your habits had been today, but one day was just one day, wasn't it? You had no real plans today—in the end, what it settled into was a mutual agreement to indulge in the day a little.

But what you hadn't expected was to walk into a living room that no longer… looked like the living room that you knew.

You didn't think you'd spent that much time fixing up the kitchen, but the stark change to the living room space proved otherwise.

Prepped for your little home theater date, the room had been dimmed, lights switched off—except, even with the lights on, you wouldn't have been able to pinpoint where exactly the television was, or where exactly the couch was, or where exactly Xavier was. Instead, what stood in front of you was a large amalgamation of blankets, and bedsheets, and pillows… Not quite organized in the least, nor matched in shade or size, but certainly very… big. You knew that these were all the extras that you had stored, and you couldn't quite describe what was in front of you.

A canopy?

A castle?

A… fort?

You stood there for a while, head tilted, noting a rummaging going around on the inside. It took a moment before you heard a little click, and the inside of the pillow fort glowed a warm, inviting orange.

Xavier poked his head out from under one of the blankets.

"Hi," he nodded at you.

The sparkle in his eyes told you that he was quite proud of yourself.

"…Hi," you laughed. "What's with the living room, Xav?"

"You… said you wanted to watch some movies. I figured I could turn it into something cozy."

"Except I'm always cozy with you."

"Then, extra cozy."

"Did you just want another place to fall asleep in?"

"…No…"

With a laugh, you waved your hand, and crawled under the fort with him.

The space was smaller inside than you'd expected it to be, all fluffy and warm and, true to his word—cozy. It certainly didn't look like much from the outside, but snuggling with him under a separate blanket of your own, leaning against the foot of the couch, the television settled in front of you… truly did make it feel like a personal little theater for the both of you.

Once again, perhaps instinctually, you curled sideways into him and lay your head on his chest. With one arm wrapped around you to keep you securely tucked into him, he used the other to point upwards.

Fairy lights.

Several strings of them, the very source of the little glow you'd been seeing from outside. The lights emitted from them weren't particularly strong, but all of it turned this whole thing into something that was—again—cozy.

A hand reached out, and you let out a soft laugh. "They look like stars."

He followed your motion, reaching out with you. His hand placed next to yours made yours incredibly small, but it made you smile. "Yeah," he agreed, "but they're also stars that don't feel too far away from us."

"Kinda like we're stargazing, huh? Without the cold…"

Your fingers intertwined with his, and he brought your hands down towards his mouth. A soft peck to your knuckles, before he nuzzled your hands against his cheek.

"Well… Anywhere with you feels like stargazing. Since the only star I really want to be looking at… is right here."

His words drew out the air from your lungs. Your eyes met—there was a certain shine in his, blue eyes glowing beneath the strings of light hanging above you. Even this alone, the way he looked at you, could have been enough to drown you. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks; such simple words had you floundering in an instant.

"You're so unfair," you murmured.

There was no bite to your words.

"Am I?"

He shifted to dim the fairy lights, and a flick of his hand had his evol playing around with the lighting. Barely a couple of tries were needed for him to secure a spot on the 'wall' of your little safety fort, where shadows danced along the lined sheets. Slowly, he brought his pinky over to draw your hand back to his, and the shadow of a rabbit formed on the wall.

A giggle fell from your lips. "Hey, that looks like Bunbun!"

"That you've gotten three of in a row just last week…"

You nudged him, pulling your hand to make another, smaller rabbit. "Weeelllll, it kind of looks like you, too~"

Sneaking a glance at him showed a little smile spreading on his own features, but you had little time to recognize the brief flash of mischief in his eyes before the rabbit he'd been projecting to the wall swiftly turned into the head of a wolf.

You gasped, drawing your own rabbit away. "Xavier!"

"I thought you were more sensitive to traps."

"But they're cute—!"

"Sometimes… you should expect the unexpected."

You let out a squeal as the 'wolf' began to advance towards your rabbit, and you immediately draw your hand away and buried your face into his chest. "Silly!" Laughing, you made light punches at his arm. "Take your wolfie away from me!"

And it was silly, but something about it made you feel all fuzzy inside. He laughed in return; it was the sound of it that made you stop, pausing to cherish the warmth that spread through you as a result of it.

Yet the more you look at him, the more you realize that the glow within your little blanket fort, pillow fort, castle whatever it was—wasn't quite coming from much of an external source, but from… him. Specks of those same little sprinkles of light scattered around him, and you could have sworn the very outline of his figure felt like it was glowing.

Smiling, you shifted closer to him, fingers moving to thread through his hair. "Xavier…" you chuckled. "What's going on?"

"What… do you mean?"

You reached out to poke his cheek. "Xavier glows when he's happy."

It took a moment.

You watched as his expression shifted ever so slightly, the flash of surprise making itself visible for a moment before settling into a fondness you knew was reserved only for you. You could marvel at it, really. There were many things about Xavier that you've come to know all this time that you've been spending with him, the past couple years of your relationship. Things like the subtle movement of his gaze when he's caught off-guard, or the twitch of his lips when he tries to keep himself from smiling. He was more expressive than people realized—moreso with the little things, and a little less, sometimes, with his words.

"Because I am happy." He leaned in, closer. The tips of your noses touched, and he nuzzled against you gently. "Are you?"

His hand raised, a familiar bunny light bouncing around the both of you as he smiled softly. That bunny, the very same one from that campfire, the very same one where—as far as you could recall—you'd made one of your very first promises with him.

Tell me when you're overwhelmed next time.

Something in you told you this was a similar moment.

It was quiet for a while, your eyes staying locked. Bated breath formed a certain tension in the air that wasn't unbearable, but easily had your heart skipping a beat. If you leaned back down, listened to his heartbeat… you wondered if you would feel the same thing. Yet somehow, in this moment… it felt as if your hearts had never been this close.

It was Xavier who broke the silence.

"I didn't forget, you know."

You didn't pull away, but you blinked. "…Huh?"

"Today. It's Valentine's day… Isn't it?"

"Oh…"

"I didn't forget."

He nodded his head, once. The smile on his face never quite left, even as he assessed the traces of panic on your own.

"I— I did, though… Sorry. I don't have anything, I didn't really—"

"It's okay."

You blinked. Again. You noticed that Xavier had been catching you by surprise a fair amount this day. "Huh?"

"It's okay," he repeated, patiently. "Because the only gift that I want… is already right next to me. And she's the same star as the only star I wish to be looking at."

Once again, it was Xavier who broke the tension.

Before you could react, before you could fluster yourself over his words—

He leaned down, lips touching against yours.

One kiss. "I love you."

Another kiss. "I love you."

A third kiss. "I love you, still."

You were left dizzy at the quick succession of kisses, feather-light, barely there, and you could practically feel the way his lips turned up into a satisfied smile.

"They say three times' the charm… right?"

Cheeky.

And yet, looking back into his eyes pushed the mischief in them aside, and instead what you found in them was— love.

So, so, much love.

More than the three times he's said it today, and more than… whatever Valentine's Day was supposed to be.

Something swelled in your chest.

"Sometimes, I think that, from the far reaches of the night sky… A star has arrived on this planet." You spoke slowly, formulating your words, and then you bumped your nose against his with a smile. "And I also think that star happens to be laying right next to me."

Arms wrapped around his neck, and it was your turn to shower his face in a little flurry of kisses, relishing the soft laughs that fall from his own lips.

"So if I'm the only star you want to look at," you murmured, "then you're the only star I want to spend the rest of my days with. I hope… tonight won't be the last night we get to spend with each other. I want more nights with you. More like this."

And he chuckled.

"No, it won't be the last."

Slowly, his arms trailed to rest on your waist, gently guiding you to settle on top of him. Happily, you pressed your forehead against his. In this moment, you realized that you loved, all too much, to look into his eyes like this.

"…Your eyes look like stars," you laughed quietly.

"Yours hold all of them."

"No, that's wrong, Xavier. It holds one star. That's you."

He smiled.

"…Mn. It won't be the last, not tonight." He said again, brushing your hair from your face. "We've followed the pull of fate to this moment, so I'll make sure to stay by your side. Now, and always. Maybe, this night… holds the hope there is for us to always be together."

taglist : @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @oharasmommymilkers00 @pikachuzhc @fackeraccount @rafayelsgf @iloveboysinred @spotted-salamander @venussakura @love-and-deepstrays @evilgojo @keioxo @~Air_Heart~ @keymeadoww @strwbrychffoncke @nezuswritingdesk

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

At the Time of my Death

I've never fully understood why I feel so strongly in the manner of my death until very early this morning on a call with one of my good friends. I began to tell her how I wish to die, alone in the forest listening to the sound of wind blowing through the trees. Whatever age my death materializes makes no difference to me, as long as I have stayed true to myself, I will accept my end.

As I went on, I began to feel myself get excited at the idea of my body returning to the earth in a way in which the government would be most disappointed. I plan on disappearing, and every time I say it out loud, I'm met with uncomfortable stares and sometimes depending on who I say it to, I gain a lecture about how unfair that would be to my loved ones. Sure, whatever.

Why must people control every aspect of our lives in the name of loving us? I love you so you must... Even my own death wouldn't be mine if I allowed others to have a say in it. So much for final moments! The idea of dying in an institution meant for profit, then being placed in a plastic white bag to be brought down to a metal table, pumped full of chemicals, sounds exhausting.

Not to mention the viewing of my body in the morgue. Following with the wake, where everyone will show up in all black as if no other color exists, and cry as if losing me greatly affects how they wake up and make their coffee in the morning, ridiculous! Then there will be my subsequent burial or cremation, both are shit. Then a tombstone.

My tombstone would read something like Beloved Daughter and Mother. Is that all I amount to in this life, my titles? What about who I was? No, I'll gladly disappear into the woods and take my last moments away from prying eyes, medical supplies, and metal tables. Let my body break down into particles to enmesh with the earth the way it was intended to. Give me one final moment with the earth at the time of my death.

Source: At the Time of my Death

Vita Sackville-West, from Complete Works of Vita Sackville-West