#arctic syndicate

[geek-leak]

eepy ranboo in the arctic

[lilborealis]

Why is this man so arctic-monkey’s coded

[sapphos-ruwumate]

They were gonna do Christmas decorations.

[time-is-restored]

i think that a lot of the overworld is simply gone in the aftermath. miles and miles of bedrock, exposed lava veins, hundreds of unprocessed chunks that leave veins of ore hanging unmoving in the sky

but not everything. kristin was quite clearly very familiar with the parts of c!phil's life that were the most important to him, even if her knowledge abt the server as a whole was limited ('niki! im a big fan!' vs 'is the portal near here?') - knew to guide phil's friends + family to safety before c!phil even had a moment to ask.

and phil promised he'd take care of the wolves. the wolves, the polar bears, the foxes, the cows...

so i don't think all of the overworld gets wiped away in the calamity. she's been growing her forest around phil's home for over a year, letting her magic steep in its soil. so it doesn't take much to let the foliage grow up and across, joining hands with itself and covering the arctic sky in a goddesses' silent, loving embrace.

the fungi spore and the flowers bloom - the wolves pile into their shelter together, steve curls up by the fire, the foxes lie down on phil's bed. their heart rates slow, and the noise from the outside world fades as through a dream. the arctic sleeps, and it survives.

niki's city is trickier - kristin had never wanted to impose on what was clearly a such a personal shrine to life, and all of one woman's reasons to keep living. but just like phil's presence is felt there in every block he lent, every enchantment he helped inscribe, every recipe he passed on, so too is kristin's magic felt through phil. it is not the perfect coverage of the arctic, but its something. the city will change, but it will survive.

after all, its not like nothing's happened. the fallout from the nuke will leave scars on the earth for a long, long time, and it will be longer still before the life that used to thrive on its surface will be able to breath its air once more without consequence. the arctic and the city and all of their stories will have to hibernate for a long, long time.

but one day, it will be safe to return. it's not goodbye. it's 'till we meet again.'

[forgingtheblade]

“RE”BUILD?

yes! i have created multiple different iterations of this cosplay in the past, all the way back in 2020! my design has changed wildly in those four years, but i’d still like to share them so you guys can get a sense of where i’m starting with this!

ITERATION 1: OCTOBER 2020

this is the cosplay i made when I very very first got into technoblade, very shortly after he joined the DSMP. I used a lot of pieces out of my closet, which is the case with a ton of my dsmp cosplays! the cloak was a tablecloth, i had the wig for a different cosplay, and I think the only things I bought were the fur, chains, and the sword, which I got from spirit halloween. I wore this one to school and there’s definitely pictures of it in my yearbook

ITERATION 2: DECEMBER 2020

inspired majorly by technoblade and philza’s blue “retirement arc” skins, I started this project in the weeks leading up to december 16, when techno changed his skin back and never wore it again. I love the light blue as a sort of visual language for the arctic commune and later the syndicate, though it’s not something that’s stayed around in my new design. I made a lot more pieces for this one—thermoplastic tusks (which broke very quickly, lol), the blue vest, a new capelet, and of course, the antarctic empire inspired armor! just pauldrons and bracers for now, but I’m still so proud of how they came out for one of my first forays into foam armor making.

I hope you’ll stick around to see iteration 3 in the future! Thank you!

[anarchy-and-piglins]

More DSMP Techno thoughts.

Technoblade is literally one of the most generous people on the server. Like, in fic, Niki is always the one most characterized as generous (which is still accurate), but Technoblade is GENUINELY the most generous. From Netherite Armor, to helping Connor even though he had no reason to. To going to see Dream, even knowing it was a trap because he needed to make sure he wasn't dead. His whole rational behind his Anarchism is that People over Government. Helping others until they can stand on their own. Literally the most generous on the server.

Techno's generosity is such an endearing trait of his not to mention very important in analysing him as a character since it actually ties into a lot of other aspects about him I really adore.

Firstly, there's his planning and how he never wants to be caught off guard (sometimes to the point of paranoia). Technoblade is a great fighter and some of that is his impressive raw skill - as demonstrated when fighting Quackity in the tunnel post failed execution with low gear - but he's also an amazing tactician and strategist and he knows coming prepared is half the battle (as Sun Tzu's teachings also invoke). cc!Techno found this important enough to highlight when he went over dsmp lore, how he hated it when people boiled down c!Techno to being a good fighter because he's just 'that cracked' and not because he spends so much time and effort on preparation. Techno gives very freely to his allies during Pogtopia and to those he considers on his side, because it's the smart thing to do. Being generous there is simply clever battle tactics.

Then later on we see his generosity become extremely relevant as Techno digs more into the theoretics of anarchism and how to effectively spread it on the server (cc!Techno did the research and by extension c!Techno shows the growth and changing perspective). Mutual aid is one of the main pillars of most anarchistic beliefs, with the idea that goods should be shared among people so everybody can be self-sufficient and there's no dependency on government. This also means no hoarding of resources and giving without expecting anything in return. We see this come to fruition in the Arctic commune and among the syndicate too, where people definitely own things but there's little care for going into other people's chests and taking stuff when needed. Sometimes even without asking (though often with asking because it's the polite thing to do). Techno does not seem to view his own actions as generosity but rather as self-evident.

Lastly, there's of course the fact that Gift Giving very much seems to be Techno's main love language. He clearly values gifts he gets from others, including those that have no practicality or 'worth' (ie the blue from Ghostbur he refuses to throw away). Getting the ax from Ranboo was one of the more significant shows of care and consideration anybody on the dsmp had ever given Techno and he was clearly touched by it, plus it's a turning point in their relationship. And he's prone to giving his loved ones gifts too. Tying in with the first point and with the fact that Techno is very protective of his friends, a lot of his gifts do serve a very practical use of being the kind of things that will keep them safe (armor, weapons, supplies,...). I think that's very telling for who Techno is as a person.

A last thing I want to touch on is that Techno's generosity is nicely contrasted with his disdain for people taking advantage of him (falls in the category of betrayal and 'using him' that Techno is particularly wary of). When Tommy took his gapples without asking repeatedly even while Techno told him to stop, Techno was clearly very annoyed. It was not the taking itself that bothered him as much, but the fact that Tommy refused to respect a clear boundary.

Funnily enough, he also got annoyed that one time somebody yoinked his foxes, though he was not annoyed somebody took them or even that they took them without asking.... he was annoyed because the person that took his foxes took the ones he could use to breed more. He even remarked that if they had yoinked a baby and an adult - leaving Techno with two breedable adults himself - he would not have cared. He specifically got upset because they took the foxes from him in a way that created a scarcity of resources. This is also very mutual aid/anarchy aligned and that amuses me.

[rocksslide]

To get into the festive spirits, Technoblade thought it would be fitting to call a Syndicate meeting and have all of them eat cake, have some fun.

Problem? He has never made a cake.

A propper one. Not just the rushed kind you bake just to prove your student's power.

It took him so long. And several comments from chat swearing he mistook sugar for salt.

Finally it was done. It was glorious. First try perfect cake (it was, in fact, the second try). It took an hour, if not more.

When everyone arrived to the Arctic Anarchist Commune he invited them to his humble so that he could show them the treat he made.

Steve was eating the cake. The cake was knocked onto the floor. Steve was eating the cake that was knocked onto the floor.

Steve was kicked out of the Syndicate. So long, Harpocrates. You were a fine member.

This is my gift for @oakworthyt4t in the @technoblade-gift-exchange! Hope you like it <3

[cgogs]

dsmp /rp

i think a lot about like, nextgen or future dsmp ideas a lot because i find so many things about it fascinating. like, nuke reset nonexistant, how would the server progress provided some form of deescalation irt tommy wanting to go full project manhattan (and XD was content with letting time march on). what factions would form, how the economy would progress, etc. all possibilities are so so fun but the main variables are like. las nevadas as a growing commercial empire, the egg as a sleeping ticking time bomb, and the arctic syndicate's reaction to how all the states shift around (and the counter reactions to them and their direct action)

i have like, one million headcanons about this and could go on and on but all that being said i started writing this post bc i was thinking about how fascinating an idea i find schlatt being revived and joining up with Q in las nevadas. dream giving up the book isnt necessarily a part of this, but it could be, i havent given it TOO much thought. but schlatt being q's first lady (the c!quackity humiliation ritualisms) is sooo. so to me

[v01d-l1ng]

some ghost!dream au art

so in this au, c!dream breaks out of the prison but sam hunts him down in the arctic. the server can't tell if he's dying of shock of going from a boiling hot cell to an arctic wasteland or from sam killing him, so the notification alerting to his death is glitched. ghost!dream doesn't remember how he died either, so it becomes this big mystery. sam also conveniently decides to lay low after this (which is the least guilty move to pull... definitely). i don't have much concrete lore for it after that yet but i think that dream would live with techno and the syndicate would try to solve his death

[swordfright]

oh god uh okay. jesus christ here we go. sigrid is c!dream's daughter from one of the alternate (i.e. bad) endings of ouroboros. sam thinks he's her father but neither of them is quite sure because, well. she doesn't look like sam. she looks like this...

there's no deep dark biome on the server, so nobody has ever seen a warden before. they literally do not know what the fuck she is or how to care for her. luckily, dream manages to escape the torment labyrinth when sigrid is a toddler. he takes her directly to phil because phil is like, old as balls. surely this old man knows something about this species, right? wrong.

raising her is challenging. she's completely blind, so she needs help to get around (good thing techno has not one, not two, but two-dozen dogs that can be trained as service animals.) they also discover, when she's around nine or so, that her screams can inflict serious damage on anyone within hearing distance. doomsday trio do their best, and she gets...some semblance of a normal childhood. normal by dsmp standards, anyway.

after their escape, when sigrid's still little, dream meets up with punz again and they continue to pursue their research together. dream leaves for days at a time, then weeks, then months, returning to the arctic less and less frequently. in his defense, it's not his fault he never wanted a kid. he's also got a pretty intense complex around not being seen with her, since he knows any association with him puts sigrid in danger. what ends up happening is that she basically gets raised by c!emeralds. her personality is much closer to techno's than dream's.

needless to say, she and dream have a complicated relationship. i've got about 15k words of him teaching her necromancy collecting dust in my drafts lmao

one of her Big Things is that she gets lonelier as she grows up and realizes there isn't anyone her age around to play with. the closest she's got to a friend is michael, who's a couple years older and has been inducted as a Real Syndicate Member (this is the ouroboros timeline, so sam never killed ranboo.) this leads to her rebellious phase, which involves a lot of exploring outside the perimeter of the arctic with her dogs. she eventually befriends another little girl who's in a similar boat (there are hardly any kids on the server! just boring grown-ups! it's not fair!) and the two of them meet up in secret to go on stupid dangerous adventures. phil and techno never see this other kid and are fully convinced that sigrid made up an imaginary friend to play with. in reality, the other kid is quackity's daughter. so uh. yes, this situation does eventually blow up in everyone's faces.

i'm gonna cut this off here sdfghgfd thanks for taking an interest tho!! i have a backlog of sigrid drawings, maybe i'll be brave and post more of them someday...

[anachronistic-falsehood]

WDYM PPL THINK CELLBIT IS FROM DSMP HELP?

my very long qcellbit post briefly broke containment a long while ago and one person commented this

i thought it was hilarious. cellbit from the dsmp. do u guys think he’d be part of pogtopia. would they set him loose on the battlefield to rip people apart with his teeth. would he help quackity eat schlatt’s heart. do u think he would retire to the arctic commune. do u think he’d join the syndicate. would people regularly mistake wilbur for him and vice versa. guys let’s talk about cellbit dsmp

[bubble-popping]

day #2, continuation of yesterday

Since then, they'd all gained somewhat of a routine. Certain things were tougher than others, days where Dream wouldn't even get out of bed. Those days, Punz crawled under the covers beside him while Techno made soup and just sat it on the nightstand in case he changed his mind. As time went on, those days got fewer and far between, but Techno knew they'd never go away. Trauma never just went away. Lucky for Dream, neither would Punz or Techno.

On the other hand, the rest of the Syndicate was much less receptive to the idea of Dream staying than they had been for Punz. Techno expected a reaction along those lines. Dream was a controversial figure to most people, especially when he personally had a hand in destroying their homes and killing their loved ones. But, exactly as they had done for Techno, the others came to forgive and accept him as part of their community. (His membership in the Syndicate was still up in the air, but Techno was working on that, believe him.)

Techno only realized he'd somehow stayed awake all night thinking about his partners when he noticed a change in the room's lighting.

Rays of sun filtered into the room, striking the tops of blonde heads in a dazzling display of golden hues. It simultaneously created and satisfied an urge at the back of his piglin brain to see such resemblance to his DNA's coded favorite metal and to know, in a way, they were his.

Dream's hair, once it recovered from neglect in the prison, sat in fluffy curls all about his head. Barring the strands of white, Techno saw no difference between it and the plentiful Nether ore. In comparison, Punz's hair was a little more unique. They also had those silvery strands, but they were less obvious in his sandy blond hair. However, as it grew longer towards their shoulders, some chunks turned a cocoa brown color, creating stripes to match the kind of wolf they were a hybrid of. (Yes, Techno researched which wolf variant he was and how they differed from the Arctic wolves that Techno was used to. No, he would never tell Punz that.)

And speaking of the striped wolf hybrid, they were the first to wake up.

Punz shifted, arms and legs unfurling in a big stretch as they yawned--and Techno's stare definitely didn't linger on his sharp teeth, no sir, no way. They exhaled heavily, then sniffed and cuddled back into his previous position.

"How long ya been up?" He asked, morning voice a warm, pleasant rumble.

"Oh only a few minutes. Not too long."

"Liar."

"Wha-and how would ya know??"

"You're really bad at lyin'."

"Everyone's a bad liar to ya, man."

"Yeah. But, you're prolly the worst."

"I. I dunno whether to be offended or..."

"What kept you awake?" They questioned.

"Jus' thinkin'."

"About?"

"About... about that crazy shot ya landed on Sam back then."

Punz snorted and nuzzled closer. Techno was sure he didn't believe him, but thankfully they went with it anyway. "Couldn't just let him kill Ranboo, revive book or not. That guy's fuckin' crazy, dude."

[charismatic-writer]

Because of my lack of motivation, but desire to share my writings, i will be posting some of my WIPs that i never got to finish, and will probably never finish.

Here is one of them.

TITLE: Her

FANDOM: Dream SMP

CHARACTERS: Ranboo, Mumza, Technoblade (mentioned), Philza (mentioned)

WARNINGS: Description of death/afterlife, in deoth description of panic attacks, Wilbur Soot is mentioned once, NOT PROOFREAD

WORD COUNT: 748

Ranboo Died. Ranboo was dead. They stood face to face with a Goddess. She called herself Kristin, the goddess of life and death. Ranboo was confused; they thought that when you die you were sent to some type of limbo. At least, that’s what Wilbur said when he came back from the dead. Limbo. Not whatever this place is. He was supposed to be in some type of hell. With fire! And demons? Is that what being in hell is like?

“Now what happened to you, love?” Kristin asks them, taking their hand and the two of them walk down a long narrow path.

“I'm not entirely sure... Last thing I remember, I was with Techno and Dream. We were leaving... the prison? I think it was the prison. It’s a bit fuzzy after that, but then I remember Sam holding me hostage... and I remember Techno-” Ranboo’s voice breaks, but they aren’t crying. “Techno was trying to get Sam to let me go- but- Sam killed me with his sword.”

Kristin stops and pulls Ranboo into her chest. “Oh my, I’m so sorry that happened to you dear. I promise that here, all that pain will go away.” But then she pauses. “Techno...? As in Technoblade?”

This gets a nod from Ranboo.

“Ah, Techno, he’s lovely, isn’t he?” Kristin smiles. “Now... we should probably find you a place to stay.”

“Ms. Death, I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back to Earth. I-I mean, I have a son, and a husband! I mean... I think I have a husband...? I need to go back and see my son! And I never helped Phil build the potato farm for Techno... I need to go back. I have to.”

Hearing her husband’s name catches Kristin off guard. “You know my Phil...?” Kristin asks the teen. “How do you know him?”

Ranboo looks confused. "You're 'Her'?" Ranboo asks. "I thought your name was Her, not Kristin.”

Kristin laughs softly. "No, Ranboo. My name is Kristin. I'll make sure to teach you about pronouns at some point."

“ Ms. Death. I really think I should go back to Earth. I need to see Phil and Techno again- I mean-He and Techno took me in after the war in L’Manburg. They let me stay with them in the Arctic, I even joined the Syndicate. I have so much with them back on Earth Ms. Death. I’m so scared; I just want to go home.” The teen’s face contorts as tears well in their eyes, trailing down their black and white cheeks

“Is that really what you want Ranboo?” Kristin asks with a sense of sincerity in her voice.

The teen nods. “I want to see them all again.”

“Okay, it’s settled then. I’ll take you back to Earth tomorrow morning. Until then, let’s get you settled.” Kristin led them back towards a humble cottage that sits in the center of a circle of trees, smoke flowing from the chimney, and a path of flowers leading to the front door. It was beautiful, and it fit perfectly with the gorgeous landscape of this place. Tall green trees, bright green grass and a big blue sky full of fluffy clouds.

“This is where you will stay for the night, and I’ll come get you in the afternoon to take you back home.” Kristin tells them, opening the door to the cottage.

“Thanks.” Ranboo states simply, walking into the foyer.

“Of course, love. I’ll let you get settled, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Ranboo lets out a sigh as Kristin closes the door to cottage leaving them alone in the large house. Reality hits Ranboo like a semi-truck. They were dead. And they were in some sort of.. Limbo? Or is this heaven. But either way they are dead. Sam killed them at the prison in front of Dream, and Techno. Michael is god knows where and probably in danger. It was so much to take in at once. Before they knew it, they were hyperventilating. Their breaths labored an uneven as he gasps for any amount of air he could get. He was dead- murdered in cold blood all because of Dream, and Sam, and the whole situation!

Their lungs ache as they continue to gasp desperately for oxygen. Their mouth was dry, and vision spotty. They felt like they were dying. Which- they were already dead so that couldn’t be possible, but it sure as hell felt like it.

[box-architecture]

Some dsmp fics I would write if it was my full-time job:

----A Sapnap/Techno fic, that explores Sapnap's feelings about BBH as his father becomes distant with him and becomes the head of the Egg cult, being invited to its banquet even. Sapnap angst where he gets to express how awful he feels about being constantly abandoned by the people he loves, over and over. Insecurity where he thinks something might be wrong with him, struggling to maintain a relationship with Karl when Karl doesn't even remember who he is half the time and calls him by a different name.

I think it should have Sapnap end up needing to take arms against the Eggpire and try to get his father back, and he ends up joining with Techno instead of the Techno/Quackity team-up. Techno and Sapnap should have a lot of moments that explore what it means to be a person, to have friends, and how much it hurts to be abandoned when you're a naturally devoted person. If apologies for any past lore between them need to happen, they happen. I think there should be a lot of parallels between Philza/Techno and Sapnap/Dream, but Dream isn't treated negatively in this scenario or shown to have Secretly Been A Bad Friend All Along, and there's actually potential for a reconciliation as Sapnap realizes that he and Dream stopped communicating the way they should have been, and a resolution to go back to the prison after he finishes with the Eggpire.

(which would eventually lead to him discovering the torture and abuse which would lead to him freeing Dream and-)

And this should end with Sapnap defeating the Egg with Techno, and freeing Bad, who's obviously not doing too great, and they hug, and Sapnap gets to say I missed you and Bad gets to say I'm sorry with something like reconciliation that could become more secure in the future (if the Dream stuff doesn't end up destroying it). Sapnap and Techno get to be close and protect each other in battle and Techno invites Sapnap to the arctic sometime, and Maybe Even. Feelings. Mayhaps. Maybe even the future promise of Sapnap joining the Syndicate when he goes to get Dream and realizes he can only go to one person he trusts more than anyone to have his back.

----A Wilbur/Michael McChill fic that explores Revivebur not entirely knowing what to do with himself post-revival, hearing the radio talking about Serenity, an interesting metaphor and concept for a man like Wilbur who has never known that kind of peace a day in his fucking life, and deciding that Yes He Would Definitely Go To This Country. And then he shows up the the Radio Station That Is,,,, Not A Country, or particularly serene. He's positively miffed but he's here now, and he is going to make himself McChill's problem now.

So now Wilbur is crashing on McChill's couch and no matter how much McChill tries to explain that Serenity Was A Metaphor, Wilbur isn't hearing it. And really, McChill did want to know about the true history of the DSMP and its stories, and look! He's got the original artifact in the form of a dead man who started it all. Yeah, he's pretty sure that every other word out of Wilbur's mouth is bullshit or a very deeply twisted truth, but this is his first real visitor, the only real answers to things he has. If the fanfic is from his POV, its an interesting, mysterious thing, the idea of Wilbur Soot.

But also I think that they could be a really interesting dynamic in the form of McChill being able to call bullshit on Wilbur's stories the way his CC called bullshit on the disc finale before it was revealed it was staged. I think that McChill would set some ground rules and force Wilbur to take a shower. Wilbur can play his guitar and McChill can snark that somethings out of key, and Wilbur can snark back, but their relationship will never explode or set anything on fire. Wilbur wants everything to be about him, needs to be the center focus, and he gets that to some degree by controlling the narrative of his past! But also McChill is someone who is unaffected by that past and has nothing to do with it. Wilbur can't pull on the past as a way to maneuver this relationship, so he's forced to just... be whatever he is in the present.

And I think Wilbur struggles a lot to figure out what he is in the present, but even if he bullshits and backslides, McChill is never going to enable his past behavior or be too traumatized to push back. If Wilbur is going to come all this way and steal his couch, McChill is going to tell him he needs to eat something other than sand. This isn't therapy, but it is Wilbur coming home to Philza with his very exasperated boyfriend and insisting that He Is So Good At Healing And Being Normal.

---- A Tina/Hannah fic that Explores their developing relationship and Hannah falling to the Egg. I want this Slow Burn from when they first meet on the SMP to maybe-possibly being very close to being romantically involved, that sort of deep tethering pull and dates-that-are-not-dates that could also have the fun background effect of letting us see how other characters we don't normally get a lot of focus on are doing in their day to day lives. It feels very light-hearted at first, almost slice of life-esque, tooth rotting fluff.

But as time goes on, clearly something is wrong on Hannah's end. The reds in her outfit have always been a lovely rosy shade, but lately they've become more dappled with crimson and mahogany. Its not something most people would notice, but Tina does. Tina notices every little shift in her behavior, the way her dearest friend withdraws more and more.

And Tina wants to help, of course, as she always does, but Hannah has realized both that she's being taken over by the Egg, and that the Egg wants to take Tina too, coaxing Hannah to try and infect her as well. Not acceptable. Hannah's goal is to attempt to keep Tina safe from whats happening at all costs. She'd leave a trail of blood behind her if it meant that she'd see Tina, whole and happy, on the other side.

Tina isn't really happy to be told "I'm doing this for you!" as the love of her life starts going a little ax-murder-y in a sacrificial cult. She thinks that taking away a bit of her agency, low-key. She doesn't want Hannah to destroy the world for her, she just wants Hannah, safe and happy and in her arms.

I want Tina to put on very cute, purple/pink armor and pick up a sword and maybe even join the Syndicate in taking down the Egg. I think Tina should go up against Hannah and the vines and the sacrificial cult and win after nearly losing, because Hannah has her hanging by a vine and insists that they could be Happy Like This, that Tina could be her beloved treasure, safe from the wars and conflicts of the SMP that she's seen through her hivemind connection- only for Tina to cut herself free and insist that she doesn't want to be safe. Not like this. If being safe means never being free, then she'd rather live a life full of danger. And she wants to live that life with Hannah as herself, not the facade the Egg insists she is.

I think, after the Egg is defeated, Tina is cradling her love very gently in her arms. I think they should kiss, blood still on their lips.

(I think they should get married, but its probably too soon for that.)

[faebriel]

and you caused it: chapter 5

In which Niki has a terrible secret, Puffy just wants to move on, Tommy sneaks into casino parties and Wilbur learns to deal with anger being justified. Or - the one thing they don’t warn you of, when dropping nuclear warheads on old friends, is fallout.

in chapter 5: resolutions are made on phil's verandah, wilbur finally understands how horrible it would be to die in a ravine underground, and once-old friends are made new again. niki, again, finds herself baking a cake.

welcome to the final entry! thank you so much for reading <3

wc: 5.6k

(cw: this chapter includes discussion of suicidal ideation.)

so life in the arctic settles back into relative normality.

there are still some patches of it that are painfully awkward - tubbo and techno are still trying to find their footing as they trawl the compound’s outskirts for sight of ranboo, and tommy still has his moments where he can’t stand to be near any of them without shouting his voice out, and wilbur and niki try very hard to pretend that the other doesn’t exist whenever they cross paths at breakfast and dinner. it feels like pulling on an old coat, one that’s too tight at the shoulders and too short at the sleeves. not quite familiar, not quite right.

at some point tubbo does curtly inform niki that tommy has forgiven her, and that he appreciates what she did for them in the underground city. niki is able to see the gap between those two sentences, but even if she doesn’t have tubbo’s forgiveness yet, she recognises and appreciates the olive branch.

they’re not quite friends anymore. she and techno and phil are still close, of course - but everyone else. the hurt was a long time ago, long enough that she thought it might have healed on its own, but the explosion and the mess dream made of her city have ripped the scabs wide open and she’s not entirely sure if they’re going to heal the same way again. that they won’t heal ragged.

but she’s getting used to it.

niki has a strange relationship with mourning. fungi, wilbur, l’manberg, the untimely disappearances of jack and fundy and puffy and so many more people from her life - she’s never quite managed to get it right. it’s always too much, enough for it to feel like it’s burning her alive. this, though… she knows she’s burnt those bridges, but she’s managing. they’re managing. they’re civil, and sometimes tommy offers to help her bake still, and techno spars with her out in the snow, and even though everything fell apart she’s not lonely. she’s not on her own anymore. fucked up and distant and hurtful as they all can be, they can exist in each other’s spaces now.

and the thing about the syndicate - and by extension, the arctic - is that they’re always busy. phil, niki and techno have their duties, of course (mostly book club. especially after niki returned from the city. but there’s still dream out on the server somewhere, and even if the syndicate technically has no quarrel with him, neither of them ever argue with the bitter scowl that settles on her face whenever she’s reminded of what he did to her city). tommy tends to stick to the compound, but he still feeds the animals and mends the fences and follows phil and techno like a duckling to the occasional abandoned mansion or village. wilbur goes for… walks. tubbo gets all thin-mouthed if he stays in the arctic for too long and ends up making off for a day in snowchester, no matter the hissed arguments he and tommy keep having on the front porch of the stables about it (techno’s guest room overlooks the paddock, and she doesn’t think they know she can hear them every time).

there’s always something to do. this is good for niki - she likes to keep her hands busy, she likes to feel like she’s helping. she fixes fences and feeds the turtles and babysits michael and yes, she bakes. she’s doing pretty well with feeling content these days, she’s not often sad - and at least when she is, she has something to devote her time towards instead.

(it stings that wilbur barely even talk to her anymore. she’d rather that than have either of them get into a spat and say something they would regret, though.

even this, still, doesn’t last forever.)

—

there are some days where tubbo wants to go look for ranboo (still missing - that is something that still troubles niki, something they can all agree on) and that means techno wants to go out as well, and then tommy insists on acting as escort whenever tubbo and techno are left alone together, and phil tags along under the excuse of making sure everyone comes back with their heads intact (untrue - niki thinks he’s scouting for another build site). so, of course, someone has to look after michael.

tubbo deposits him like a small sandbag in niki’s arms.

(there’s a secret hierarchy to who gets to babysit michael, one that niki only noticed about the sixth time tubbo asked her to babysit immediately after tommy said no - phil first, then tommy, then niki, and then… tubbo still doesn’t seem to like leaving michael with wilbur or techno without some kind of supervision.)

he’s a fairly lax parent, when it comes to babysitting - and it helps that michael is apparently used to staying inside, moving from house to ravine to cabin. he has colouring books and paints and a few hardcover picture books phil donated when tubbo moved up north and even a wooden toy sword, not that he uses it often. tubbo rattles off something about how he’s starting michael on some piston miniatures - tubbo has been putting them together this week, when he found the time (niki looks at the dark violet bags beneath his eyes…) - and that michael can keep playing with those if he wants, but nothing more than a finger-scrape of redstone yet please, because he’s not entirely sure what will happen if michael decides to try eating it. niki nods, and silently resolves to keep the pistons in their chest until tubbo returns.

michael is perfectly behaved, as he tends to be, and after an evening tiring himself out explaining his puzzles to niki he’s all curled up under blankets and sleeping softly on the worn, old couch. (there is a child’s bed in the spare room now, but tubbo is remarkably hot and cold on whether he likes it actually being used.) niki keeps an eye on him while she floats through the kitchen, brewing another batch of radiation sickness treatment. it’s another large one, with all three of them living in the arctic most of the time.

it’s almost peaceful, until wilbur makes his way down the stairs.

it would seem easy for them to keep ignoring each other. they have been ignoring each other, to some degree. but that’s only when wrapped in the buffers of other people. neither of them can last long in a quiet room, and after a few awkward minutes, wilbur makes his way outside.

after a few more - just long enough to take the potions off the boil, stack them in the kitchen chests and tidy up the spilt sugar - niki follows.

He’s smoking again, she realises. The cigarette winks like a tiny amber star in his hand, fallen from the night that blankets the arctic around them. “You shouldn’t be smoking again,” she duly informs his back. If she’s startled him, if he didn’t expect her presence, he doesn’t show it. “Are they out?” he asks instead. “They are.” No point wishing for pleasantries. “Looking for Ranboo again.” “Ah.” Wilbur’s chin tips towards at that, a weight upon his shoulders – he leans heavy against the railing, as if it props up most of his weight. She creeps forward, letting her fingers find the railing beside him. The wood is cold underneath her hands, laced with frost. “You were close, weren’t you?” He doesn’t answer. Niki bites her lip. “I’m sorry, Wil.” He barks out a humourless laugh. “It’s not like I was any good for him, in the end. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went down in flames with the casino.” “The comms would have notified us if that happened. I didn’t see a message.” Is that what Wilbur’s thinking to himself now, wondering if he had somehow missed it? It wouldn’t be the first time he let himself believe something entirely untrue. “And that doesn’t mean that you didn’t care for him. That it doesn’t hurt you.” Wilbur doesn’t look at her anymore. Not since that night over the crater, when she refused to tell him where Tommy was (does he wonder about that night? Does he ask himself how he didn’t know? Would he have ever known, if it weren’t for Dream?) - no more glances exchanged in the middle of one of Tubbo’s rambling or Tommy’s rants, no cheeky smiles and inside jokes, nothing. She still can’t tell whether she prefers it or not - whether she would rather see his expression twist into dismissive disgust when he lays eyes on her, or not at all. He still doesn’t look at her now, staring into the pearl-white plain stretching before them, as far as the eye can see from left to right before nestling itself into throngs of pine - but there’s a shift in his shoulders, the slightest incline of his head. He’s listening. “Tommy told me that you two were working together,” she continues. “Briefly.” He pauses, takes another drag. Niki resists the urge to crinkle her nose up. She’s never liked the smell of cigarette smoke. “Tommy didn’t say he’d been talking to you.” “We’ve been talking quite a bit, recently.” “Apparently.” His tone is not what she expected it to be - not that, really, she knew what to expect at all. Perhaps jealous. Instead, he sounds almost impressed, if humourlessly. “You did a good thing with the ravine, Niki. They needed to be somewhere safe. It was a good thing for you to do. Selfless, really.”

Now, that makes Niki turns to face him – his ember-lit profile, silhouetted against the snowdrift glow. She narrows her eyes, though, cautious. “I didn’t do it for your approval, Wilbur,” Niki says. He doesn’t even say anything to that one, just angles his face that slightest bit towards hers - just enough to catch his eye. His gaze is too assessing. She’s always been honest with Wilbur, anyway. “Not your approval specifically,” she amends. Wilbur hums. “Maybe it was too selfless,” he says - there’s that thoughtful note in his voice, musing. “You were always the good one, you know? Even in - even in Pogtopia, yeah? It was always, what would Niki think of this. That’s what Tommy would ask, all the fucking time.” He laughs. Niki does not want to ask what he thinks is so funny. “Drove me nuts.” “Is that why it didn’t work, in the end?” she asks. The question is clumsy, but it strikes Wilbur with all the clarity it needs - laughter immediately swallowed. “No,” he tells her. “No, Niki, that had nothing to do with you.” And isn’t it pathetic, that a sentence like that still stings? “People can always change, Wilbur. People do change.” Not that Wilbur has ever had it easy grasping that. This conversation, this argument - one they never even had - is almost two years old. Wilbur is dead and buried and pulled back again through the span of it. And still, it matters to her.  She sucks in a breath. The coldness stings her lungs, as if frostbite can gnaw at her from the inside out. “I think I changed.”

“Did I ever know you, at all?” Wilbur asks. The question is immediate, as if he’s been holding it on his tongue for some time longer than the last few minutes - days, weeks, maybe even years, like her. Keeping it close to his chest, keeping it warm and alive by nestling it in flesh and blood. “Of course you did,” she tells him. “You were one of my closest friends, Wilbur.” And I was yours, she doesn’t say, because Niki knows when she’s pushing it. He looks touched, even if it’s not what he meant by the question. “You knew me. In Pogtopia.” “Wil, I know that you were sorry - ” “I am,” he interrupts her. “I - I was. I know what you’re going to say, Niki,” his voice goes half-mocking, “that I was myself in L’Manberg, and then I changed. I changed, not that I knew exactly what I was - not that I knew it the whole time.” Niki’s mouth opens to retort - but Wilbur raises a hand to stop her, as if he’s expecting it. “That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?” Niki lets her mouth fall closed, sheepish. “I know it was wrong.” “Maybe. But I was listening, then and now - I don’t think it ever mattered how long we knew each other, Niki. There was too much you didn’t know. There was too much I couldn’t bear anyone else to know, I couldn’t bear anyone else to carry, that I couldn’t - ” he waves the cigarette in her direction. “Fuck, Niki, did you even know I smoked?” She looks down her nose at the small, glowing thing. “It’s not a very attractive trait.” Wilbur snorts out a laugh. “Right.” Doesn’t stop him from taking another drag. He’s not rude enough to blow smoke in her direction, or anything like that - but she catches him sending an expectant look her way after he exhales, like he’s waiting for her to tear him a new one over it. And seeming none too displeased about it, either. She doesn’t, for the record. All she does is roll her eyes slightly, and that seems to fulfil whatever Wilbur is looking for. “Y’know, I always thought - all that. I always thought, that’s me. This shitty, in-com-prehendable mess - I mean, you saw me, Niki, I was a mess. And I always thought that was just me. But… I don’t know. I’m starting to think there’s more than a few fucked up people on this server, honestly.” And everything seems less funny. Colder. “I don’t think I ever knew you,” Wilbur says, as conversationally as if they were discussing the weather. “How - how bad did it get? After I died?” “How bad did what get?” “You. Everything. I - everything. This server.” All Niki can do is shrug helplessly, swallowing the rabbit-hop kicking of her heart in her chest, in her throat. “I don’t know what to tell you. Things were bad, Wilbur. We were all mourning, we were grieving. Grief made it worse.” She leans against the railing, letting her weight sink into it. “It wasn’t all you, of course. There was - there was the Egg, and all of that. And so many other things, probably, I wouldn’t have known about it all.” Wilbur snorts again. Quietly, he echoes it wasn’t all about you under his breath. And Niki, her heart freezes over in her chest. A cold stone, sitting in the back of her throat - it sits there, with the last of her petty secrets. What else does she have to lose? Nothing. You know what they say, her mind reminds her, about a woman that has nothing to lose.

“I was thinking about killing myself.” The laughter stops. She’s not looking at him. She’s looking down at her hands again, fingers pale against the wooden rail, imagining them frostbitten. Imagining herself as a walking woman of ice, cold and clear and unaffected by the words she finally says aloud. She can see his hand too, next to hers - the other is holding the cigarette. His grip on the railing tightens. She told him this, she thought. He doesn't act like she had. He doesn't act like he understood fully until she spelled it out plainly. “Not - I didn’t make any plans for it,” she rushes to explain. “But I just assumed, I think… I just assumed that one day I would just get too hungry, or get too sick on my own in the city, and…” The ending of the sentence, that’s the difficult bit. She traces the grain of the wood with her thumb. “And it would all be over.” “You wouldn’t,” Wilbur chokes out. “I know, I know. There’s - there’s limbo. I didn’t believe in it for a long time, though. Did you know, Perfect is an endless life server? No - no death, really. I always thought that here must be the same, until…” She pauses. “L’Manberg wasn’t itself anymore, it was eating my friends alive - it ate you alive. I had nothing to care about, I had nothing to live for left. It was just… revenge. You don’t have to like it, but that was what kept me going. I was - I was so hungry, Wil. I was so hungry, but I couldn’t even bring myself to eat. I didn’t feel like I was living.” Finally, she lifts her head. Wilbur looks almost shellshocked. “...I didn’t want you to feel like that. I never want you to feel like that. Ever.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “Yes, yes, I know, but - you know I wouldn’t want you to be in that place, ever, don’t you?” A shadow casts over his expressed - half panicked, half soured. “Even after that stupid fucking casino - never, Niki. I didn’t mean for it to come to that. You have to believe me, I didn’t.”

“It wouldn’t have,” she assures him. “There was Tommy and Tubbo,” she nods towards the door leading back inside, “and Michael, as well. I couldn’t have.” A horribly morbid thought takes over her. “I wouldn’t have had the space, for one.” Wilbur does not laugh. In fact, he looks quite stern about the whole thing. “That’s not funny.” “I wasn’t joking!” she says - not quite defensively, but almost. She takes this seriously. “The three of them, they just take up so much space. And the mess…” Wilbur looks just about ready to harrumph at her - funny how the tables turn so quickly, now that the suicidal breakdown is on the other foot - but he comes up with nothing besides a few unhappy-looking expressions. “It was just hard,” she continues, eventually. “All I cared about was killing Tommy. I didn’t think about what that would have meant, what would happened if we pulled it off…” Wilbur is quiet. Niki breathes out another disappointed laugh. “I suppose I didn’t care about much of anything at all,” she says. “If we pulled it off?” Wilbur asks. She looks up at him, and - his gaze cuts right through her, steely and dark as anything. “Hm?” “There was always someone else, wasn’t there?” he asks - no, this is closer to a demand. Not in its ferocity - Wilbur is markedly gentle, and Niki gets the feeling she is going to have to get used to the feeling of kid gloves for a while - but in its intent. “It wasn’t just you.” Niki stiffens. “That isn’t my business to tell.” “Not my business,” Wilbur echoes, voice pitching up and down in all the wrong places - “isn’t it? Isn’t this how we got here?” “I got here because Techno half-dragged me back,” Niki shoots back at him, “and because Tommy was kind enough to ask him to. Does it matter if there was someone else? Really?” He pouts, the melodramatic thing. “I guess not.” She resists the urge to sigh. She might not have felt much kinship with Jack during their brief partnership - no, what they had was darker and emptier than kinship, barely even allies - but now, she can care for him in retrospect. She doesn’t want to bring the full storm of Wilbur’s frustration and confusion down on him, especially if he’s still in the same state Niki saw him in last. Her heart twinges, not for the first time. It keeps doing that when she thinks of Jack. If it weren’t for how empty those months were, how heartless and cold, Niki would almost think that she misses him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she glosses over it. “I still made those choices. I knew what I was doing. I wanted him dead, so badly… it was an ugly feeling.” Is that what it felt like to be Wilbur, back in that ravine? She guesses it’s the closest she’s ever felt. She hopes it’s the closest she’ll ever be to how Wilbur felt. “So now you know me,” she concludes, “properly. And I know you.” “I suppose I do.” He huffs out a sigh. Niki bites down on another definitely-unwanted comment about the smoking. “We can’t do this one over, can we.” “I don’t think we can.” “Flown too close to the sun,” Wilbur murmurs. “Are we ever going to go back to normal?”

Wilbur considers it. “...was normal ever any good? Did it ever do any good, for us?” he asks. Did it? Oh, Niki longs for normal. She longs for summer days in redwoods that never seemed to end; she longs for the smell of bread and wildflowers wrapping her in their embrace. She longs for feeling secure, for feeling comfortable and safe. She longs for the time when she knew who her friends were, and knew that list of friends was one she wouldn’t be able to count on two hands. She longs for when things were easy. Less complicated. Normal. Yes, part of her still longs for L’Manberg. The old L’Manberg, her home. But that place is long dead. She thinks of her bakery - now burned, and thinks of every second she felt unappreciated. Every time she felt hungry, every time that she let herself starve. She thinks of the safety that slipped through her fingers like sand the moment that the old day ticked over into the new. She thinks of being stolen from. She thinks of walking on glass, never knowing if her home and her things would be griefed for kicks. She thinks of how much she trusted Wilbur, and the cigarettes he must have hidden in his office - she would have known about them, otherwise. She thinks of the cracks that she couldn’t see, but were there nonetheless. “No,” she decides. She cannot tell if it feels more like a victory, or a defeat. Maybe both, maybe neither - maybe, just plain relief. “I don’t think it was.” The quiet reigns. "I'd like to get to know you," she adds, barely louder than a whisper. Being vulnerable with Wilbur has always been easy, to some degree. He thinks on it. She can tell, because he goes quiet for a moment - a long moment - and it takes him a few tries to answer, mustering up breath for nothing. The seconds drag their feet. Niki watches birds play in the distant treeline. "I think I would like that," Wilbur answers, and when Niki finally looks towards him, he looks almost content.

and that is almost peace.

they are interrupted by a flurry of shouts over the horizon, one that snaps them both to attention. a small set of figures (figurines, really) stagger through the snow - when niki squints she can see techno leading the pack, charging through the snowdrifts with purpose, tommy buzzing around him like a golden insect. tubbo trails behind both, utterly fixed on something, as phil follows with haste.

"oh, my god," niki says, a murmur trailing tall into a cry, as wilbur's hand comes to cover his mouth - 

ranboo, slung over techno's shoulder.

there is going to be a reckoning over ranboo, weeks trapped in enderwalk, exhausted and bruised - over books and puppeteers and stacks of dynamite, over why it took so long for anyone to see dream as a threat, over how he roams the hills of the server with netherite in hand and blood on his mind - the fight rolling in like bad weather as they all stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the rain.

that's later, though, and something niki has no desire to lose friends over anyway - for now she clears space on the dining table as wilbur ushers michael into a spare bedroom, sticking his head through the doorframe to watch as techno dumps the kid's worn and bloodied body on the table and tommy shoves himself forward with torn cloth in one hand and the first of many healing potions in the other. for now she hovers by the doorway, one hand on tubbo’s shoulder, and waits for the sun to rise.

—

ranboo’s recovery takes a long time. he’s not dead, thank the stars above, but when techno and tubbo dragged him back to the arctic he was worn and filthy and callused in places that niki didn’t even know could get calluses. and they’re terrified, literally terrified on their own shadow, and there are nights where ranboo traipses up the stairs and sleeps in that spare bed in techno’s house (curled up around themself, like a turtle in its shell - niki knows, she wandered in one morning while they were still asleep) and tubbo goes out to stay in the little shack he and tommy have built near her cabin and it’s nothing but tommy’s loud ramblings that breaks the silence for days. niki thinks back to the dinner they all had, descending into arguments, and thinks of tommy’s words afterwards - and for a while, she genuinely does think they’re going to divorce. love has been made a martyr for less.

but they don’t. or, if they did, it was amicable enough that niki hasn’t noticed.

she’s never seen michael happier now that both of his dads are around, and he has a way of practically forcing everyone to get along - if he wasn’t so little, niki would almost suspect him of weaponising how cute he is whenever it looks like someone is going to fall into a spat again. tubbo unwinds - some days, he even smiles like he did back in l’manberg. he and ranboo spend a lot of time with the turtles. the bags under tommy’s eyes stay stubbornly dark, but he stops holding himself like he’s constantly waiting for someone to throw a punch, and lo and behold, he starts to get - loud. he follows techno and wilbur around like a squabbling bird, a cuckoo making itself well and comfy in the nest. wilbur, for his part, tends to just roll his eyes while making some equally immature and snippy comment back at tommy, as he passes niki her mug of tea.

and finally, they can all breathe.

niki starts to feel like everything is going to be alright.

—

they don’t do proper surprises anymore - it’s not safe to walk around with a blindfold, and niki gets uneasy when one of them is wandering off on their own for too long - but tommy insists that the four of them have a surprise for niki and then immediately slams his hand over tubbo’s mouth and starts filling the air with his and wilbur’s latest adventures (tommy claims to have found shroud a wife, who chased wilbur from the pine forest to the fences around the compound for a solid half hour) before tubbo can spoil anything.

they don’t tell her where they’re going, but niki knows the pathway to her city better than anyone.

a hush falls over the five of them (god, they move in packs these days, don't they) as they descend the staircase - not quite hand in hand, with the exception of ranboo and tubbo, but certainly shoulder to shoulder. niki, tommy, tubbo and michael are almost hyperaware of the damage that's been done to this place already, and ranboo is having one of his healthy degree of suspicion, or anxiety days. it's a slow descent. halfway down the steps tommy is possessed with a sudden, jerky shudder, and niki thinks for a moment that he's going to turn back - but he steels himself, chewing ferociously on his bottom lip, and soldiers on regardless.

she still isn't sure how to feel about her city anymore. it was supposed to be a safe refuge - but sometime it had stopped being her refuge from anything, and dream has certainly proven that it wasn't safe. she stays at the arctic these days, because she's come to realise that being around people is better for her at the moment. but that doesn't mean she doesn't miss it.

until she reaches the bottom step.

the place is still chaos, mostly. the dirt is still in piles on the ground, even if it has been swept to the walls. the stone is still pockmarked with the unmistakable imprints of TNT. iron beams, bent and broken, stick out of her ceiling like the ribs of a rotting creature. but - 

there is a small patch of grass tucked into a crevice, spotted with azalea bushes and wildflowers, surrounded with a short stack of beehives. a jukebox sits on the corner, spinning to itself - she doesn't recognise the melody, something quiet and stringy and sweet. the sound is almost lost under the hum of the bees clustered around tallest flowers, watching the newcomers with dark, curious eyes.

she cries.

(niki remembers, back when they all lived under the ground together - and what a nightmare that was - tubbo never spontaneously renovated her farms or walkways or bedrooms sitting unused without asking permission first.)

they made an exception for the beehive nook, but they still do ask: would she mind, terribly, if they spent some time fixing up the place? nothing too obtrusive. just fixing up the walls, mending the shattered beacon, rebuilding the high-speed rail network tubbo constructed from her kitchens to the apartments - tubbo's been nursing some thoughts on the place ever since their impromptu stay, and ranboo's been awfully curious about the city since their return, and frankly michael's missed the novelty of the underground - 

it’s not all right. they don’t wear caution well, never have. but part of her still sings, they asked. they know how important niki’s city is to her, watched her heart be ripped out and strewn across the floor, like every handful of dirt - and they asked.

so the syndicate (and associates) find themselves a new hobby. 

techno hauls debris up the staircase, dragging out broken chunks of walkways and rails as the others carry stacks of wooden planks down them. tommy throws himself into the thick of it, helping out wherever an extra hand is needed - the two of them almost trip each other up a few times, but they make it work. tubbo is in charge of the redstoning, setting up some complex kind of security system of tripwires and lights and pistons, so that next time niki needs to lock someone out, she can. iron is embedded in the walls of the city, along with long threads of redstone, like a shield built into every cave and cavern.

he also makes a valiant effort to supercharge a furnace for niki’s bakery. it doesn’t work like that, which she politely explains to him after he and tommy almost set the place on fire with their attempt at korova cookies - but michael does snack on a few of them that least resemble chunks of charcoal, and he seems quite pleased with their efforts. she appreciates the gesture, anyway, and then very kindly and very definitively sends them out of the kitchen until it is absolutely done being rebuilt.

ranboo takes it upon themself to piece the library back together. restoring books comes strangely easily to them, as wilbur hovers over their shoulder offering both unsolicited approval and advice and as they gossip with shy in a mixture of warbles and clicks. altogether, they’ve only missed a couple - and not that niki minds, not when she sees the lovely decorations and lamps that he and phil have carved from shroomlights.

tommy's supposedly in charge of the animals, balancing bowls of water and birdseed through the newly-planted pines for meowth and stubbornly hacking at the stone until he can make a nice little slope for wobbuffet to walk down, leading right into a stable cosy with the smell of hay and sugarcubes. michael fingerpaints a mural across the side of the stable as they all work, a beautiful scene in the brightest colours of a farm and a forest and turtles sitting on a snowy shoreline. that earns him a big cuddle from niki, and when she looks over at tubbo - acting first, thinking second, like she's coming to accept that she just does - he looks almost at ease in a way she hasn't seen in a long time.

phil presses another totem of undying into her hand when the others aren’t looking. he wants to give her the chance to stretch her wings again, but he wants her to stay safe.

wilbur, doing a poor job of hiding his contribution behind his back as they loiter in phil’s cabin,  swears up and down it's not a flag (as techno, sitting at the kitchen table, loudly questions what he thinks a flag is, then) and presents a banner in pale shades of white and purple - spotted with the shaky outlines of wildflowers and ender particles for shy. he says it's a mock-up, something niki can sew up properly later if she likes. she hangs it, with all of its messy, dropped stitches, above the doorway of her bakery.

it isn't safe, not anymore. and in the state she's recovering from, niki doesn't know if she can call the city home either.

but finally, she feels like it's more than just hers.

—

and after all this happens, niki knows exactly what she has to do next. it takes a while to find him, but she manages it.

this time, she has to take an entire picnic basket with her - and it's a damn far way to lug the thing, especially when she hasn't quite gotten the hang of using a trident with finesse and speed. a veritable stack's worth of radiation treatment potions weigh her down, along with a marbled coffee-and-cinnamon cake wrapped in wax paper.

jack does not look pleased to see her. he looks like hell, to be honest – dark circles beneath his eyes, too-thin, skin pale and sallow like he hasn’t been outdoors enough in too long. but he doesn’t turn her away, either. and in a world like this, that means just as much.

he lets her in, and this time, niki does not intend to leave without him.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

things i’d be writing about if s2 was happening

- everyone keeps their scars.  everyone keeps their scars and their chronic pains and the physical remnants of their past lives are easily grasped and present while the mental remnants are quiet.  the UTTER MYSTERY of having a missing eye and not knowing how or why it happened.  the heartbreak when it starts to ache in the winter and you feel angry and you don’t know who to blame.

- we have a whole group of characters who hid away and didn’t lose their memories (the syndicate) !!! i’d be interested in seeing these characters return to the overworld eventually and re-meet everyone and have the dilemma of sating their curiosities vs letting them live their new lives in peace.  if this didn’t happen in canon, i’d be writing an au about it.

- nightmares and (seemingly) random phobias.  obviously, right?

- i like the idea of the new server being directly on top of the old one, with some ruins still in place.  a big, obsidian foundation in the ocean, partly engulfed by waves.  a crater, overrun by plantlife and usually written off as a weird cavern.  a few spruce boards standing alone in the arctic.