#but hey I got back into my tumble account!

[softer-sunny]

A Visit

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Word Count: 3,303

Summary: Echo is stewing in his head. Rex is going to fix that.

Ao3 link: A Visit

This is a tickle fic

After taking in Echo the batch hadn’t quite been allowed to leave base yet and, while Rex wasn’t complaining, he knew they were tired of being cooped up there. It wasn’t surprising that the batch were getting grumbly but Echo was starting to lose his patience too. The poking and prodding from medics wearing on his already frazzled nerves.

Rex was trying to soften the blow, walking back with Echo to the Marauder to try and draw some conversation out of him. He was giving one word answers, grunts, hums, anything except for actually talking. By the time they boarded the Marauder Echo was irritably fidgeting, removing his armor and stuffing it into one of the storage bins. The rest of the batch hadn’t even bothered to try getting him to talk, their eyes following him while they stuck to their respective tasks. He never came back from medbay happy and they must’ve learned to give him some space until he could sort out his mood again.

Rex was at a loss. He watched Echo sulk, stew in his own head, and grumble at every inconvenience. Rex wanted to help. He wanted nothing more than to pull Echo out of his head and get him to lighten up a little bit. Talking wasn’t working, and he didn’t want to spend his limited free time with Echo in a space where they couldn’t talk. Still, he hadn’t flexed those older brother muscles in a while and he was coming up short each and every time. It always used to be easy to get Echo to settle back into his usual self - wise cracking, mischievous - but he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t exactly doing something right.

There weren’t many methods he hadn’t tried yet. He waited, cracked jokes, and talked but was coming up empty. Nothing had worked and he was running out of options.

Well… there was one method he hadn’t tried yet but he wasn’t exactly sure how well it would be received. Still, Rex hadn’t become a captain through second guessing himself. This would be a little different, something he was going to have to feel out as he tested, but it was definitely worth a shot. With all the bravery he could muster he cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back, and regarded Echo with something akin to boredom.

“Do you need a visit?” Once it left Rex’s mouth Echo’s body froze, like he’d been paused, and Rex grinned, dropping the mask. Bingo. Echo turned to him, his face placid despite the wide eyes filled to the brim with apprehension. “Because it seems like you might need a visit.” There was a tense silence that followed it but the reaction was exactly as it used to be. That hadn’t changed. He was hoping a few other things hadn’t either.

“A visit? From who?” Hunter asked from his space by the Marauder’s computer, his head tilted to the side. The batch had clearly noticed Echo’s change in demeanor and had started to pivot their attention to them. Wrecker spun around in the gunner’s mount to listen in on their conversation, interested in the change in tone on the ship.

Rex’s grin turned wicked. “Excellent question, Hunter.” He let his head tilt towards Echo who was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep his expression even. Crosshair looked up from the bunk to study them, eyes narrowing at how Echo hadn’t taken his eyes off of Rex. He looked half a second from grabbing Echo and putting himself between the two of them - unnecessary, but an endearing instinct. Tech seemed to catch on too, rolling over in one of the bunks to watch Echo’s face carefully. “How about we show them?”

“Rex.” There was a silent plea in Echo’s voice but Rex ignored it, stepping forward. Times like these were the only times Echo ever backed away from a fight instead of running straight into one. He held his hand and scomp up at Rex to try and keep him at bay, that calm expression wobbling into something halfway in the direction of a smile. “We can talk about this.” The rest of the batch was now looking between them with interest. They would intervene if it seemed like they needed to but for the moment they were content to let Rex and Echo sort this one out on their own. Perfect.

Rex continued his lazy stroll forward, relishing in the way that apprehension dissipated into anticipation. He smiled sweetly at his former trooper. “Absolutely we can. But not right now.” He was close enough to grab Echo’s wrist now, yanking him forward to get him to let out a yelp. He knew from experience how slippery Echo could be so he didn’t give him any chances to control the situation, knocking his feet out from under him and controlling his descent to the floor. He pinned Echo’s legs to the ground with his own body but he still had his arms to worry about. He grappled with those arms with accuracy he only picked up from doing this time and time again when Echo was 501st.

It was comical to watch the batch work out what they were supposed to be doing while this went on. It looked like Hunter and Tech had caught on, both of them settling, but the other two were still wondering if they should help their new squadmate or not. Crosshair at least looked minorly amused by Echo’s predicament. Wrecker, on the other hand, still appeared concerned. They didn’t quite realize what Rex was up to.

They had never seen this side of Rex so he gave them a pass for now.

He battled with Echo’s arms until he could get them pinned to the floor next to his head. It was a shock that Echo hadn’t broken into a grin already. He was notorious for reacting before he was even touched but he was keeping himself in check enough that the smile was still fighting to work itself free. He was going to have to fix that.

He was going to have a lot of fun fixing that.

Now that his arms were pinned he was wriggling to find an out. “Rex! Please!” Rex considered taking some pity on him but he couldn’t resist the playful tug in his chest while he grinned down at Echo. The longer they sat there staring at each other the harder it was for Echo to control his expression. There was even some pink already spreading over his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. Anticipation always drove Echo up a wall. It seemed to set up shop right in his nerves and camp out to make him buzz.

Rex leaned closer, watching the preemptive smile grow the closer he got. “I told you. You need a visit.”

He didn’t let Echo protest before he let go of Echo and dove his fingers directly under his arms, getting trapped when Echo slammed his arms down to protect himself. The way Echo jolted would’ve been cause for alarm if it wasn’t for the immediate bark of laughter that tumbled out of him as Rex gently dug his fingers into the area. The sound brought something bright and light to his chest that he hadn’t felt in a really long time. Hearing Echo laugh was all it took to make years of war fall off of his shoulders, especially when he laughed like this.

“How could you hide this from your new squad, Echo?” Rex tsked playfully. “Not very team player of you, now is it?” He tried to be tentative about his touch, exploring spots that he knew about from experience while trying to be cognizant of if Echo had new boundaries now. So far there weren’t any cues that told him he wasn’t welcome, or that this wasn’t okay. He knew Echo like the back of his hand and his eyes diligently watched for any worry or discomfort, listening for pleas for it to end, ready to pull away the second he needed to, but none of that came. Echo just melted into the floor and laughed, twitching against the gentle attack.

Echo shook, flailing underneath Rex to try to get some sort of control over the touch. “They-” He broke off into a round of chuckles when Rex got enough leverage to scribble at the sensitive spot. “They didn’t need to know!”

Rex took a moment to look at the rest of the 99, absolutely tickled at what he saw. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the batch hadn’t done this with Echo yet as each of them turned towards the noise with interest, now in varying stages of amusement and fascination over what was going on on the floor of their ship. They hadn’t heard Echo laugh like this yet, that much he was sure of. They maybe weren’t even sure he was ticklish, not yet venturing into playful touch since they were all still getting to know one another. Maybe they’d even attempted but Echo kept the reaction underwraps. Rex wasn’t going to let that slide any longer. If he was going to entrust the 99s with one of his own then they were going to have to learn what made Echo tick.

“Now, now Echo.” Rex let his voice dip into ‘evil brother’ territory. “They have a right to know. I think it’s only fair if I show them all the ways they can chase the bad moods away.” He wormed his hands free from under Echo’s arms and started to pinch down his sides, his smile growing at how Echo wiggled away, head shaking from side to side, smile stretched so wide he was practically beaming. Sides were still a good spot, easy to latch onto and reach, perfect to squeeze - which he did.

“Wait!” Echo’s eyes got wide for a second, hand scrabbling to grab at Rex’s. He did exactly as he was told, waited, watched how Echo had to try to catch his breath. The waiting just made Echo more squirmy, twitching fingers at his sides waiting to dive back in the moment he got his breathing more under control. Rex slowly curled his fingers to watch how he reacted. He squirmed but stayed put otherwise, a broken giggle escaping. Rex narrowed his eyes, putting more pressure into the touch to test the waters. He was verging on more sensitive areas and Echo was catching on now.

“What’s the matter?” Rex asked, dipping his voice so it was clear he was teasing. His thumbs found the bones at Echo’s hips and prodded over the area. Echo writhed while he wrapped his arms around his body, which only made it look like he was trying not to fight back too much.

“You knohohow wh-ah!” Echo twisted when Rex snuck his fingers under the hem of his shirt to tease at the softness of his stomach. Still a sweet spot. The melodic laughter softened into giggles as Rex traced along his abdomen, swirling over the muscles and feeling them jump underneath his fingers. He still wasn’t trying to push Rex away, stuck in the spot he was in and not ready to escape. Echo feet scrambled behind him, metal against the tough steal of the ship while his body tried to decide what to do next. It was like he was fighting his own reactions, caught between wanting to sink into the floor and wanting to run.

Turns out his decision was to melt. He threw one arm over his eyes to cover his face, while the other still wrapped tightly around himself, tossing and turning as Rex raced his fingertips over the hills of his stomach and the ridges of his ribs. He rubbed his knuckles into the spaces between, causing those tittering laughs to turn into a bright bark of a noise, bouncing off of the walls of the ship and filling it with the sound.

“What’s so funny?” Rex asked, pure instinct the only thing that drove his movements. He’d spent a long time learning how to tickle his brothers, reduce them to little puddles of giggles with just a few well aimed touches and some teasing, and he was putting that training to good use.

“Cahahan’t be you!” Echo shook his head back and forth, succumbing to the sensation with a hiccuping chuckle. He turned onto his side when Rex aimed for his stomach again, this time letting his fingers dance and circle around his navel. The blush that had started to form was already spreading, framing his face the more he fell victim to Rex’s ‘torture’. Echo looked tempted to push Rex away but he wasn’t ready to give up yet, despite how flustered he looked. “You’re nohohot funny!” Oh, you’re gonna get it now.

Rex huffed at the insult. “If I’m not funny then why’re you laughing so much?” He switched to using his nails to scratch at Echo’s lower belly, finally getting the reaction he was looking for. Echo flopped onto his back again and threw his head back with a yelp before melting into the floor again and letting panicked, giggly, babbling fall out of his mouth.

“Please! Rex! Please please please!” What Echo was pleading for exactly was always a mystery. Most of the time Echo didn’t know either - it was just something to say, something to do to stay a part of the game they were playing. Rex’s playful touch turned more devious as he moved to scritch his nails over Echo’s hips, the younger man arching before flopping down again. “WAIHAHAT!” He was definitely reaching his need for an out, feet kicking behind them.

Rex couldn’t help how amused he must look, eyes lit up and beaming as he sunk back into the familiarity of it all. He halted his attack on Echo’s midsection and dove forward to shove his face into the crook of Echo’s neck, a surprised jolt accompanying the absolute shriek he let out when Rex got to work.

It was a tried and true trick that he’d picked up from Fives who used to evilly rub his stubble against Echo’s neck to get him to scream. Rex didn’t have quite as much facial hair as Fives did and, hell, his stubble wasn’t very grown out, but he could huff into the sensitive skin under Echo’s ear. Rex could never tell if it was just the position that made Echo so squirmy or if he was actually succeeding in tickling Echo into a pile of mush, but the way Echo squeaked and pushed at him was enough for Rex. With one last slow puff of air and the deliberate rub of his cheek on Echo’s neck he relented, pulling away and dropping next to Echo on the floor.

He looked thoroughly tickled pink, his body going slack against the floor while he sucked in air. It took him a minute but he rolled up and away from Rex, pulling his knees to his chest while letting out residual giggles. That smile was now plastered onto his face and, really, that’s all Rex had wanted.

“There’s that smile.” Rex couldn’t resist planting a playful boop on Echo’s nose to get it to scrunch up. Rex reached out to pat Echo on the back, rubbing comfortingly to help him calm down. “Got you to laugh.”

Echo grumbled - embarrassed. “It’s not fair. A visit from the tickle monster always makes me laugh.” He looked like he was trying to glare at Rex but it never actually reached his eyes, too much amusement on his face to draw such a grumpy expression into the open. Rex couldn’t help but feel endeared.

“You needed a visit.” Rex squeezed his shoulder, fondness spreading through his chest.

Crosshair dropped down from his place on his bunk to stand nearby, folding his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know Echo was ticklish.” There was a lot of mischief tied up in that sentence, eyes glinting dangerously as he studied Echo’s reaction to it being pointed out - which was to shrink a bit more into his folded arms. A well placed poke in Echo’s side got him to reemerge, now more successful in his attempt to glare at Rex who simply grinned wider.

“Very.” Rex addressed Crosshair that time, letting his own expression mirror the rascally one Crosshair held. “Ya know. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more tickle monsters lurking around here.” The way Crosshair’s eyes lit up meant danger and Rex was more than happy to poke that rancor.

Echo’s head perked up, looking between the two. “You can’t be serious.” He tightened himself into a smaller ball but it was no use. Crosshair was already crouching to get down on his level, evil grin displaying exactly what monster he was planning on becoming.

“I’ve heard of several just circling, waiting for their chance.” Rex pulled his hand away to let Echo start scooting backwards, Crosshair deciding to crawl forward after him.

Echo’s back hit the wall, a poorly suppressed wobbly smile making its way onto his face. He always did crack right before someone struck. “I haven’t heard of any others around here.” He knew he wasn’t getting away so he wrapped his arms around himself again, hiding most of his face in his knees to at least keep Crosshair’s expression out of his sight.

“Well then you haven’t been paying enough attention to your surroundings.” Crosshair teased, sidling up to him and hovering without actually touching yet. The anticipation of it all was making Echo squirm again, all of his nerves on display and he was doing practically nothing to keep it hidden.

“Echo!” Hunter scolded, drawing all of their attention as he took up Echo’s other side. Rex could sense the expression he aimed at Echo from a mile away by the way he shrunk away from his sergeant. “Didn’t you know that not paying attention could get you into trouble? I thought you were better than that.” They were practically circling him like sharks, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Please.” Poor Echo. Already giggling and shaking his head as they descended onto him with playful antics that could rival Rex’s own. A fond smile made its way onto his face, knowing those phantom sensations were driving Echo up a wall - they always had.

“Well, since you asked nicely.” Crosshair teased right before he reached out for Echo’s neck, fluttering his fingers there to get him to scrunch up. His other hand prodded around Echo’s side so the dual sensation could force him to uncurl from his protective little ball, dissolving into frantic giggles already. Echo flailed a little when quick fingers found their way to scribble gently at Echo’s midsection, tickling over the spot that he’d observed could get a bigger reaction. Without thinking too much about it Echo melted into Hunter for some kind of protection but all it did was get Hunter to wrap his arms around Echo, a fond, content smile resting on his face, holding him in place for Crosshair to test out any tickle spots he wanted. Hunter let himself trace over Echo’s neck to join the fun, Echo yelping at the multiple hands trying to pull a reaction out of him.

Rex sat back and watched them. Echo was in good hands, he decided. If they were willing to play like this then he didn’t have to worry about if Echo would fit in, if he’d heal well. He had the 99 around him, ready to pull him out of his bad moods and harsh mindsets. He was going to leave him to the mercy of four brand new monsters and maybe that’s exactly what Echo needed.

[neil-gaiman]

hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

A gnawing sense of foreboding creeps up on Steve as they head to Eddie’s trailer, armed with weapons.

He tries to outrun it through action: ensuring he’s the first one to go through the Gate; jumping back and forth between The Upside Down and their world whenever someone forgets something, “It’s okay, I’ve got it!”; triple checking that the cables for Eddie’s amps are long enough; searching for the slightest thing than seizing upon it with an enthusiasm bordering on desperate, “Hey, we could use this, right? Better take it, just in case.”

But that only works for so long, and then Steve’s just standing in Eddie’s kitchen, the real one, staring blankly at the cupboards, all out of distractions.

Out of time.

He hears a grunt of exertion behind him, then an unsteady landing, a muffled curse. Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Wanted to fit your aerobics routine in?”

He’s teasing, so light-hearted despite it all; Steve can’t stand it.

Keeps his back turned, gut twisting, opening the cupboards then slamming them shut, thump, thump. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He never has.

“Uh, so I was thinking,” Eddie continues, like Steve’s not doing anything weird, “that I could stretch out the, um, the song? My playing? Could buy you some more time, anyway.”

“Sure, great,” Steve says shortly.

He thinks—with a numb kind of calm—that he’s going to be sick.

He gets to the bathroom, tries to shut the door, but his grip slips on the handle.

Turns on the faucet, scoops cold water from his hands into his mouth, and it helps until it doesn’t, until he’s almost choking on it, and he’s been here before, the feeling familiar: a shadow looming over him, just waiting, waiting, and he knows it’ll pass, it always does, but he can’t stop thinking of Robin, it might not work out for us this time, and what if, what if—

He can hear Eddie knocking on the doorframe, just out of view—as if he’d seen Steve’s failed attempt at shutting the door and wanted to respect it.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Then Eddie mutters to himself, “Obviously not, get a fucking clue.”

Steve’s laugh is strangled but real. He wipes his mouth dry and shuts off the water.

“You don’t need to talk to a wall, dude,” he says.

And Eddie steps into view, leans against the open door. His eyes flicker across Steve’s face, and Steve doesn’t want to know what he’s noticed, so when Eddie opens his mouth hesitantly, he speaks first.

“We should—they’re gonna wonder where we are.”

Eddie pauses on the verge of speech; Steve watches him reevaluate whatever he was going to say.

“Well,” Eddie says, gesturing to the bathroom, matter-of-fact, “we could be peeing.”

Steve manages a chuckle. “You’re an idiot.”

Eddie grins like he’s saying yup, that’s me, like he’s won a prize.

Steve has seen him wear something close to that expression not even an hour ago: when the kids had started a line to use the bathroom in the RV, and Eddie had snorted, giggled with a childish kind of delight, “You—ha! You all look like you’re on a field trip,” before joining the line himself—calling out that he hoped their plan accounted for bathroom breaks because, “There’s no way I’m pissing in the alternate dimension,” and that had made Nancy break, laughing in a way Steve was certain he hadn’t heard since ‘83.

Eddie steps into the room and shuts the door quietly. Steve gets why: his breathing’s still all wrong, and if Dustin happened to see him, he doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

“Sorry.” Steve sucks in a breath, tries to hold it. Loses it in an exhale that shudders at the edges. He speaks through the tail end of it, hoping that’s enough to conceal the sound, “Gimme, like, two minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Eddie says.

The way he says it makes it seem like it’s already a done deal; he must’ve spoken to Robin and Nancy before he tumbled through the Gate.

Despite himself, Steve feels a wave of relief: just for a little while, he has time; it overpowers the shame, leaves him sinking down to sit on the closed toilet seat.

He closes his eyes, just breathes. In… out… in…

He doesn’t realise that Eddie’s sitting down, too, until he hears the clunk of his boots, the rustle of clothing as he moves.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, and it annoyingly still comes out a little shaky, like he’s in the pool and he’s left it too long to snatch a breath. “You can go back, man, I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

He opens his eyes to see Eddie shaking his head, sat with his back against the bathtub.

“Stop apologising,” Eddie says, and then it’s as if the seriousness of it is too much for him, because he adds, with a self-deprecating smile that Steve hates, “I get it. You’re walking into the dragon’s lair, I’m just putting on a concert.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, and he doesn’t intend for the word to come out as sharp as it does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he means it. He means it.

Eddie’s smile fades.

“Don’t,” Steve repeats, quieter. Not quite an apology.

Slowly, he moves off the toilet seat, until he’s sat next to Eddie. There’s just enough space that they don’t need to touch, but Steve presses his shoulder against Eddie’s anyway, like he can somehow pass on everything he means through that alone.

Eddie sighs, presses back for just a second. “Don’t what?” he asks. He sounds tired all of a sudden.

“Don’t—don’t joke like that,” Steve says. “Like you’re not—” He swallows. “Like it’s not dangerous.”

There’s a pause. Eddie reaches across and puts a hand on Steve’s knee. Squeezes briefly and pulls back; already Steve finds that he misses the warmth of him.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Eddie says. There’s no joke in this, not a trace. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to Dustin.” Another smile. Gentle. “Swear on his mother.”

I’m not worried about that, Steve wants to say, but of course that’s not true; he’s tried hard not to look at Dustin directly ever since they arrived at the trailer, because his throat would start to close up alarmingly whenever his gaze lingered, and he knows the kid’s doing that whole semi-aloof teenager thing lately, but a part of him still wants to hold him tight and never let go.

It’s more that the shape of Steve’s worry is different to what he thinks Eddie’s imagining, covers more than Dustin’s safety alone—that the cold dread in his stomach brings him back to the tunnels in ‘84; to clutching Dustin, who was so small, Steve desperately trying to shield him with his own body, thinking the kid’s thirteen, only thirteen, this isn’t fucking fair; and that if this had to end one way, all he could do was pray that he’d be the only one to…

And Steve hadn’t wanted to die, but he was suddenly facing it anyway, and Christ, looking back at it, that was crazy, the whole damn thing was crazy, but it all made a twisted kind of sense at the time.

Eddie must spot that his train of thought’s gone down a dark alley because he knocks their knees together, but he doesn’t say anything. Just breathes, slumped against the bathtub; it’s probably the first time he’s been still—truly still—in a long while.

He must be exhausted, Steve thinks.

The gnawing feeling digs in, grips his heart.

“I can hear you thinking,” Eddie says quietly. “Listen, Steve, I know I’m new to, uh… all of this shit, but I’m on it, okay? Got it all up in here,” he taps the side of his head, “trust me—”

That’s not what—I trust you, of fucking course I do, but—

“—no deviations, and—”

“Plans change,” Steve says, and he hears himself, the calm decisiveness, just get ready; Dustin’s scream carrying across the junkyard, Steve, abort, abort! “Just… just promise me.”

“Promise you?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve feels the words on his tongue, the weight of them. Don’t do anything stupid. 

He swallows them down—afraid suddenly that if he really puts a name to it, it’s going to happen.

Fuck it, he’s exhausted too, and for a long moment he evades speaking: gingerly rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Feels his body heat, the swell of his breathing.

Eddie doesn’t tense up, just lets him rest there. 

If I kissed you, Steve thinks, drained, would you stay?

He doesn’t say it. Instead he lifts his head and asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Eddie chuckles. They’re still so close, Steve can feel his amused sigh.

“Tomorrow? I’ve not really… like, hopefully I’m not in jail. Anything else is a bonus.”

“We’ll fix it,” Steve says fiercely. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Eddie says, grinning fondly, but he sounds genuine. “Shit, man, I think you could do anything.” He gestures outside. “Got the fucking dream team out there.”

“We solved a secret Russian code last summer.”

Eddie laughs. “Did you?” His eyes sparkle with mirth.

You’re beautiful.

“Gospel truth, I swear,” Steve says. He tries to stay light, but he makes the vow anyway. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I have so much to tell you.

They stand up, and Steve doesn’t know who’s the first one to move—just that they both probably sensed the time dwindling.

And maybe it’s that, the inescapable thought that something’s coming to an end that does it. Steve doesn’t know for sure, just knows that his eyes are burning suddenly—mortifyingly—with tears. He looks up at the ceiling, hurriedly trying to push them back, but Eddie notices anyway.

“Steve, what is it?” he whispers, with a look of utter devastation.

Steve shakes his head. “Just being stupid,” he says, voice brittle, cutting himself off before he can say something ridiculous.

God, Eddie, let’s just stay here and grow old.

“You’re not stupid,” Eddie says, heartfelt—he stops just short of touching Steve; he clearly wants to help so badly, but he doesn’t know how.

Steve wants to tell him it’s fine. He doesn’t know either.

Maybe nothing can help this.

They leave for the Gate in unspoken agreement; at first Steve finds comfort in the sight of Eddie dangling on the rope, not quite in either world. Like every possibility is laid out before him.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

But there’s a near imperceptible shift as Eddie keeps climbing, and Steve needs to look away, anything to avoid the pit in his stomach: the suspicion that the path’s already been chosen.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Close to You 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you have a crush on your roommates boyfriend but getting over it isn't easy.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Author’s Note:  Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“I got it!” Nick snarls as he stomps out of the bedroom. You flinch and sit up. You didn’t even know he was there.  

Of course, it isn’t his bedroom that he’s strutting nearly naked out of. No, it’s your roommate’s. Lindsay cackles after him. 

“Don’t be such a grump,” her words barely carry through as her television blares loudly from the other side. You should’ve known why she cranked the volume so high. 

It's strange how she's always snappy with him, and he barks back at her just the same. You always imagined relationships to be more peaceful. Well, you wouldn't know, would you?

Before you can catch it, your book tumbles to the floor and you gulp. Nick stops short and grins crookedly as he fixes the elastic on his boxers. They hang so low you can see the perfect vee of his pelvis. You try not to look even as your eyes disobey your embarrassment. 

“Hey,” he drawls. “When’d you get home?” 

You rub your lips together and bend to grab your book. You don’t think he really cares but he’s just that type. He always says what he should. He always knows just what to say. And he’s so dreamy. 

Ahem. No. 

“Just... an hour ago,” you stand up and fold the throw blanket. “Sorry, I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t hear you come in. You’re always so quiet.” 

“Am I?” You clutch the book to your chest and avoid looking directly at him. 

“Well, compared to Linz...” he snickers. 

“Get me a cooler!” Your roommate shouts as if she heard her name. He rolls his eyes and strides into the kitchen. He grumbles but you can’t make out the words. 

His praise sticks with you as you watch his broad back disappear. He has muscles where you didn’t know muscles could exist. And his eyes. Beautiful and blue. His arms... 

Stop. 

You scurry for the hall but before you can pass the doorway to the kitchen, he comes back out. You stumble back and pick at the corner of the book cover. You look him in the eye, afraid your gaze might stray a bit too far. 

“Oh, woah, sorry,” he brushes his hand over your hip. “We’ll try not to keep you up.” 

“Uh, sure,” you step back and sway nervously. “I never... I can’t hear...” 

“She’s loud,” he scoffs and turns, two bottles hanging from one hand, necks squeezed between his thick knuckles, “have a good night.” 

“Er, you too,” you squeak after him. 

The door shuts and you cringe. Uh, you always sound so stupid. You barrel forward, forgetting the whim for a snack before bed, and close yourself in your room 

You’re so pathetic. Lindsay knows it and Nick does too. It’s obvious. That tension between you is nothing more than pity. They’re always together and you’re always alone. 

You put your book on the shelf and shuffle to your bed. You open your laptop and turn on the period piece that always makes you feel a little better. It doesn’t work tonight. You just feel lonely as you watch the pining between the straight-laced lord and lady. 

You turn it off and put on an endless lo-fi track instead. You can her Lindsay’s television. You change into your pajamas and shut off the lamp. You lay down but you’re wide awake. 

You try not to think of them. Not to think of him. 

You close your eyes and let the soft tones ease you. Still, you’re uneasy. It takes an hour to drift off and even then, it’s shallow.  

When you wake up again, the low music plays from your laptop but all else is quiet. You sit up, groggy to the point of dizziness, and amble around your room. You go out into the hall and click the door shut behind you.  

You head down to the bathroom. You should have gone before you laid down. 

You pull your bottoms down and sit on the toilet as you’re about to burst. You sigh and bend over your lap. That bottle of diet coke was a bad choice for more than the aspartame. 

You sit up, your muscles stiff from sleep, but before you can stand, the door opens. You cry out and cover yourself. Oh no! It had to be him. 

Nick puts his hand up and apologises as he backs out. Your body is set alight with humiliation. You quickly get up and pull your pants to your waist.  

You take your time washing your hands and stare down at the sink. You can’t even look at yourself. Why didn’t you lock the door? Stupid. Stupid. 

How much did he see? You try not to think of it as you near the door. You open it slowly and peek out through the tine slit between the frame. You poke your head out completely and step into the hallway. 

You set each foot down lightly, not wanting to give yourself away. As you approach your bedroom door, it’s open. You can’t remember if you shut it. 

You stop just before your door and raise your nose. You smell his cologne. You know it’s him. The scent clings to the couch and often trails after him.  

Ugh. You hate yourself for even thinking that. Even your inner monologue can’t help but be the most embarrassing narrative. 

You flit behind your door and lean into it until it’s closed. You drop your head and sigh. Well, you will be hiding until you’re sure he’s gone. You’ve dug this hole deep enough. 

[amhrosina]

frank with reader who’s really touchy and loves to touch frank and after a bad mission he snaps at her and she knows it’s because of what happened that night not her but she still feels really bad and distances herself

A/N: hey bestie i got this ask and felt so inspired that i wrote 90% of it in my free time at work today. fastest turn around time ever??? don't get used to it lol i hope you enjoy!!

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Frank knew he had fucked up the second the words left his mouth. He watched the words hit you, watched you process the rage induced slip-up that had forced its way out of his mouth – the way you recoiled your hand from his skin and stumbled over yourself to move away from him. It made him sick. Guilt coiled in his stomach, and before he could apologize, or say anything at all, you turned and left the room, mumbling an apology under your breath.  

Frank couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. He’d never snapped at you before tonight and was almost as shocked as you were when the words tumbled out of his mouth.  

“Stop fucking touching me. I said I’m fucking fine.”

Regret gnawed at his stomach, and if he wasn’t bleeding so hard out of the wound on his arm, he would’ve followed you out of the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and begged your forgiveness. But blood was hard to get out of carpet, and he didn’t want you upset about two things tonight. 

So he stitched himself up, and wondered where you were in the apartment, and hoped to God you weren’t somewhere crying. The tears, your tears, he realized, were his least favorite thing in the world, especially if he was the cause of them. He’d rip any fucker who made you cry in half, a promise he’d made good on multiple times, but he hadn’t accounted for the tears he, himself would cause. The guilt overwhelming his senses were doing the job for him anyways – the longer he waited to confront you, the more he felt like an absolute asshole.  

He tested the durability of the dressing on the wound, winding his arm around until he winced. A sharp pain clanged through the left side of his body, and though it made him grimace, he sat with the pain for a moment – let it ground him so that the stress of the evening could leave him. Pain usually sharpened his senses and made him feel more at home in his body. Tonight, it only unsettled him more. 

He wondered if he screwed it up with you for good. You’d worked through a lot of things with Frank, but never this, and the idea of you leaving before he could even try to make things right targeted the urgency in him. He stalked to the door and began his search. 

-  

The hard brick dug into your back as you sat down, and for the third time in half a minute, you questioned your decision to clamber out the window and climb to the roof. You didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but the idea of pacing around the apartment listening to Frank grunt his way through stitches made it hard to breathe, so you did the next best thing – aka the roof.  

You didn’t even need time to think the encounter with Frank over. You knew why he’d said it and what he’d been through tonight, but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest from blooming. It also didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. You had tried to blink them away, but the more you tried to ignore them, the more your vision blurred. 

You’d always been a touchy person, though it had never been quite as present as it was when you were near Frank. When you first met him, you’d been so drawn to his charming aura that you hadn’t realized you’d been shaking his hand for at least 45 seconds. He hadn’t said anything – just kept watching you watch him with a soft smile on his face.  

And the rest was history. You spent the entire first weekend after you met wrapped in each other’s arms, fucking on every available surface in your apartment. You didn’t quite understand why you felt the desire to be constantly touching him, but he didn’t complain and allowed you to give in to your desires as often as you wanted to. You had mentioned to him early on in your relationship that he could tell you to stop if he needed his space, but he’d never asked you to stop.  

Until tonight. 

And you respected it. You did what he asked. You “stopped fucking touching” him as soon as the words had left his mouth, and maybe it hurt your feelings, but you weren’t going to push that on him. If he wanted you to stop touching him, you would, even if it carved a deep, cavernous hole in your heart.  

“Sweetheart?” 

Your heart seized, and you jumped at Frank’s sudden appearance.  

“Hey.” You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “How’d you find me?” 

“I worry about you too much not to be able to find you.” You quirked an eyebrow at him, unable to resist looking at him any longer, and he shrugged. “You left the window to the fire escape open. Can I sit?”  

You shuffled to the side, allowing him the space to sit down, though you were careful not to let your skin brush against his. Frank let out a choked scoff and pressed his leg against yours. You turned to him, brows furrowed. 

“I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”  

And yeah, maybe you threw the words in his face to make him feel a little worse, but he was cracking jokes after snapping at you, and you couldn’t help the bite in your tone - didn’t want to help the bite in your tone. 

He shook his head, expression turning grave.  

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”  

“You said it, though.” 

“I know.” He nodded. “I know.”  

You watched him take in your features – the swollen cheeks from the few tears that slipped earlier, the wildness of your hair after one too many run-throughs with your fingers, the way you could barely look at him before turning away again. 

“I was just trying to help you.” Your eyes crinkled at the thought of him snapping at you again.  

He nodded, cradling your face in his palms. 

“I’m an asshole, baby.” His voice cracked, “I never want you to stop touching me. I love it – I love you – and I’m sorry.” 

You gaped up at him, at the desperate expression on his face. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure what to say. 

“Don’t cry, baby.” He shook his head, wiping your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs, “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

You sniffled, nodding. He’d groveled enough, and you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to stay upset with him for longer than 10 minutes.

“Did you tie the stitch off correctly?” you asked, nodding to the injury that was now covered with gauze. 

“Of course.” Frank nodded. You narrowed your eyes at his nonchalant tone. 

“Are you sure?”  

“No.” He huffed a laugh and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.  

“Why not?” You giggled, swatting him away. 

“Because if this didn’t work, I was going to complain about my awful stitches later and hope my muscles would entice you to forgive me.”  

He smirked, and laughter bubbled out of you from deep in your chest. You climbed to your feet, holding your hands out toward him. 

“Okay, Mr. Muscles, let me fix it before it really does get uncomfortable.” 

He rose to his feet, using the leverage from your hold on his hands to pull you against his chest.  

“I’m sorry,” he paused, “again.”  

“I know, Frankie.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“I love you.” he added, smiling. 

“Shut up and kiss me, muscles.”  

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[3-2-whump]

Purpose Lost, Then Re-gained

Hey everyone,

If you need a timely distraction from spiraling into despair (like me), here is a backstory I've been holding onto for ages. Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for beta-reading this!

PS, there is a reference to a previous chapter that you'd might want to brush up on, if you're unfamiliar with it

TW/CW: blood, aftermath of murder, whump aftermath (I guess?), aftermath of (sports) injury, emotional whump (depression), feelings realization (bi panic)

Out, damned spot; out, I say. One, two, —why, then ’tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Nico scrubbed his hands once, twice, until they were pinkish-red from the effort of cleansing rather than from the blood. Yet he could still feel his boss’ warm blood sticking his palms to the dead man’s body and staining him to his bones. Outside the thin doors of the dock’s restrooms, he could hear Julio instructing Juicio Divino on where to hang up Tom’s body.

Thomas Costa’s body.

Nico thought he was going to be sick.

The door swung open and Julio leisurely sauntered up beside him, taking the sink next to him to wash the blood off his hands. They stood there in silence with nothing but the water running between them and a tension that could be cut with a knife.

Julio glanced over at Nico’s scrubbed-raw hands, frowning a little as he turned off the water to his sink. “You good there, vato?” he asked quietly.

“You know, it’s just kinda fucked, isn’t it?” Nico began, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could make sense of them. “I literally just helped you murder a rapist, an enslaver, and an abuser, among other things. Yet, all I can think about is how that same rapist, enslaver, and abuser cured my depression and gave me a purpose to life again, and we literally just took his-”

Julio cut off his nervous babbling by placing a damp, clean hand on Nico’s. The other hand reached to turn off the sink, and then to turn Nico towards him. Forest green eyes looked down into hazel. Julio frowned, reaching gently to touch one of Nico’s many scrapes he got on his face. The guard flinched under the assassin’s tender touch. Julio withdrew his hand right away, and Nico surprised himself when he found he missed its absence already.

“We need to clean those too so they don’t get infected,” Julio murmured. He gently led Nico into a bathroom stall and prompted him to sit down on the toilet. He then exited for a bit, only to come back with a paper towel he was blotting with alcohol from his jacket flask.

“Um, actually, I don’t think booze is the best thing to sterilize wounds,” Nico tried to say.

Julio hushed him as he began gently dabbing Nico’s split brow with the paper towel. Nico gritted his teeth; that stuff stung. He inhaled a comforting scent on the next painful hiss. Julio smelled…nice… a bit like marijuana and gunpowder and musk, but nice all the same.

Julio worked his way down to the cut below Nico’s left eye, staring intensely at his face in the meantime. Nico bristled under the man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t used to being touched so tenderly, not since-

2014

He was told that the torn ligament would need surgery. That he would need to go to rehab for weeks, if not months, after the fact. That he would miss the rest of the football season.

But that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nico Clemenza was supposed to lead St. Drogo’s to victory this season, attract the attention of university recruiters, and be offered a full-ride to Syracuse or something like that. But here he was, at the hospital, sitting between his parents, as the doctor told him his whole future had gone up in smoke.

His father had hugged him. His mother had gently wiped his tears away. That was the first (and last) time they had touched him so tenderly in a while.

-

2015

It was the second semester of his senior year, and Nico was already so sick of people asking him what his future plans were. Even his therapist asked –well, she didn’t ask, but he could sense her concern when he couldn’t come up with an answer. Half the time he just wanted to scream that he had no plan, no future, nothing, and that everything he had pinned his hopes on since he was ten years old was gone. But the most he did was noncommittally shrug and murmur a despondent “I don’t know.”

After graduation, life became a bit of a dull gray monotony. Wake up, sulk, play video games and sulk, eat when his mother insisted he come downstairs for lunch, go to therapy, come home, sulk some more until dinnertime, and then take an hour-long shower before staying up late to sulk until he fell asleep.

Nico stared vacantly at his ceiling, letting the rotation of the fan’s blade lull him into a kind of trance. On the shelves of his bedroom were pictures of his old football team, awards from the debate club, trophies from past athletic competitions–all of them remnants of a boy he used to be. He really thought he should pack them all into a box and stuff them into his closet already, but he hadn’t even had the energy for something as simple as that.

A long-haired brunette leaned over his field of vision, waving her manicured fingernails in his face to get his attention. Her eyes, which looked much like his own, stared down at him in concern. She kept waving her hand in his face. Nico finally acknowledged his sister with a grunt. She stopped waving her hand. “Jeez, you are depressed,” she said with a frown.

“Leave me alone, Jessica,” he moaned.

He was about to turn onto his side, back facing her, when a pair of firm hands with manicured nails pinned him down onto the mattress. “It’s been a whole year now,” she stressed. Nico rolled his eyes; as if he weren’t painfully aware. “Mom and dad are worried about you,” she told him. Then, a little quieter, she admitted, “I’m worried about you.”

He pushed himself up from the Nico-sized divot he made in his bed, getting into a sitting position as he stared up at his older sister. “Yeah, well, maybe once you’ve missed your shot to do the only thing you were ever good for, then you’d be depressed too,” he sniped, though his words had no heat behind them.

Jessica sat on the bed next to her brother, bringing their gazes to the same level. “Come on, you don’t mean that, do you?” she asked. When Nico didn’t answer, she continued. “I mean, you were so much more than just football captain of St. Drogo’s, Nic-Nac! Did ‘president of the debate club’ and ‘honor roll student’ mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, you don’t really get full-ride scholarships for being the smartest smart-ass in the room, do you?” he mumbled.

“But, you do get degrees,” Jessica argued.

And Nico knew she was right, and that with his grades, he could’ve applied to any university he’d like without a hitch. But, without any true sense of what he wanted to do with his life now, let alone what he’d want to study for four years, he figured it would’ve been a waste of everyone’s time and money for him to go to college without a plan. Surely his sister would’ve remember this; she tried to get him to apply to her college several months ago.

Speaking of which… “What are you even doing home this weekend?” he asked her, changing the subject. “It’s not a holiday, is it?” He was only vaguely aware that it was even October, thanks to the Halloween decorations at his therapist’s office.

Jessica shook her head. “Uncle Mike and the new boss are visiting, so Dad wanted me to come home to sell the whole ‘happy family’ image,” she explained.

“’Happy family’ image?” Nico echoed, cocking his head in confusion. As far as he was aware, their family was perfectly normal, and the only unhappy one was him.

“And you, Mr. Nic-Nac, are the unhappiest of us all and are dragging us down!” she jokingly scolded him, as if she could read his mind. She pulled him by the arm off the bed and out of his room. “Take a shower, shave your face, fix your hair, and please change into something nice,” she instructed him. She shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. “They’ll be here in half an hour!”

-

The new boss, Mr. Thomas J. Costa, was nothing like Nico had expected. He was young, like, mid-thirties, with a polite demeanor that slipped into something more personal and friendly when his Uncle Mike was around. He was crass, talking frankly about every minor inconvenience of his day while sprinkling in enough expletives to fill the Clemenza swear jar thrice over. He was relatable; he and Nico shared the same music tastes, and Nico’s jaw dropped in awe as the Boss relayed a tale of meeting Kurt Cobain in person.

And, most of all, he gave Nico’s life direction again.

It was a couple hours after dinner, as his mom and Jessica cleaned up in the kitchen and the men smoked in the back yard. Nico had been allowed to join the men outside, but all he did was stand awkwardly around the periphery as Don Costa regaled his dad and his uncle with the antics of a new puppy he was training (if he overheard that right).

“Yeah, he’s a dense little fucker, but he’ll get it, eventually,” Thomas sighed.

“Not like my Nico over here,” his dad had boasted proudly. Nico fought against the instinct to shrink in on himself as his father waved towards his direction and all three pairs of eyes fell onto him. “Honor roll student, president of the debate club, and former captain of the St. Drogo’s Direwolves.”

Former. He’d hoped that a year later, the word wouldn’t hurt so much. Too bad, it still did.

“That so?” The Boss took a puff of his cigarette, then redirected his attention to Nico. “Hey, kid, what are you doing? You in school, studying anything?”

“Oh, n-no, um, no, I’m not. I’m not, sir,” Nico stuttered, throwing in the honorific at the last minute as he subconsciously straightened his posture.

“Well, do you want to be studying?” Thomas bore down on him, steely gray eyes sharp with ambition and gleaming with promises. “What would you study, if you were in school right now?”

Nico’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled his way through an answer, eventually landing on a painfully-exhaled “eh…”

Thankfully, the new Boss didn’t laugh, or even sigh disappointedly like his uncle just now. Instead, he looked the young man over carefully, silently appraising him for a worth that Nico could hardly find in himself. ��Our company could do with a legal consultant,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Frank himself said he wants to retire by the time he’s sixty-five, which would give you about seven years or so to get a law degree and complete an internship at Costa Insurance, if that’s something you’d want to do.”

Uncle Mike glanced at Don Costa. “Tom, isn’t he a little young to bring into the-”

“No younger than you were when Grandpa Tony brought you into the fold,” Thomas answered. He stuck his palm out to Nico, inviting him to shake on it. “Well, Nico?” he asked.

-

“And after a year of not having any sense of direction or purpose, to finally be thrown that line, to be shown a future I could attain…” Nico continued rambling on, “…I just went for it!”

Julio hummed to let him know he was listening as he applied the Band-Aids to his face.

“I put my whole ass into law school, and the gym, and guard duty, and for what?” Nico asked, hopping from his seat and marching out the bathroom stall as soon as Julio stopped leaning over him. “To find out it was a lie,” he grumbled, “that the man who got me out of my depression was a hopeless, selfish, sexually and physically abusive, manipulative piece of-”

“I get it, I get it,” Julio answered, opening the door of the restroom onto the snowy night. He sighed, closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts before looking up at Nico through his lashes, which were quickly collecting snow. “I looked up to someone who later came to disappoint me, too,” he whispered. “But look, Nico –Nico!”

Nico blinked back the furious stinging in his eyes. Julio was standing close to him, squinting up at him through snow-flake jeweled eyelashes as he enunciated his next words clearly. “He didn’t get you out of your depression. You put in the work, you studied those long hours, you saw your future and you ran at it with everything you had to get it. You did all that, not him. He was just the spark, if you will, but the rest?” His tattooed hand thumped his sternum with every word he uttered next. “That. Was. All. You.”

And, for the first time since he found out the truth about Khaled, Nico felt something warm and fulfilling –pride? –swell in his chest. Julio smiled up at him. “You don’t owe anybody anything, and you should take pride in what you’ve accomplished on your own,” he told him.

Julio’s smile was wide, comforting, even. Nico’s heart pounded. It was unlike any smile he’d received from Khaled. No shy smiles that barely reached his eyes on this one; Julio’s smile was all teeth, fierce, feral, and free in its unabashed expressions. The closest Khaled ever came to smiling that sincerely around Nico was when his favorite team scored a goal, and even then, never this brightly.

Why was he only now realizing how different they were? Khaled and Julio were like the sun and the moon! Where one would quietly slink into a room and blend in with the wall, the other would kick the door open and saunter in with the calm confidence of an alley cat to take the seat at the head of the table, assuming it was not already occupied. Where one would omit information, and divert the subject to avoid talking about the things that mattered, the other would not shut up, especially about the things that mattered (justice, judgment, obligations, etc.). Where one would have to be continuously pressured into giving a half-truth after boldly lying to his face for years, the other was nothing but honest with him from the beginning. He told Nico he’d kill Thomas Costa for what he did to Khaled, and by god, he meant every word. Nico found himself falling in love with him that honesty.

But it’s not like Khaled was in any position to tell me the truth, Nico remembered, not without endangering himself or me. Still, though, it was refreshing to have someone like Julio be their true, authentic selves around him. Dare he say, Julio’s sincerity was even attractive.

But Nico liked women, okay? (Right?) At least, he thought he did. Being raised in a conservative, Italian-American, nominally Catholic organized crime family taught him that liking women was the only acceptable answer. His entire sexual history constituted women. However, Nico knew what he felt in the public restroom of that bar. Temptation. Nobody who exclusively liked women would feel temptation as Khaled stood on his tiptoes and attempted to kiss him. Yet it took everything in his power not to kiss him that night. And he found himself fantasizing about the ‘what-ifs’ ever since.

Nico first fell for Khaled, how he looked up at him with deep, dark brown eyes that a man could easily get lost in. But now, he was losing himself in Julio’s light hazel eyes, glittering a dim golden glow in the darkness of the night. His eyes panned down to Julio’s cheekbones, red from the cold (surely) and dusted lightly with stubbly facial hair. His eyes settled onto Julio’s full, smiling lips. They looked soft. Nico had no idea why he wanted to test that theory.

Is there just something about a murder that brings people together? Nico wondered. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks the longer he stared at Julio’s lips, imagining what those lips would feel like.

“You good, Nico?” Julio waved a hand over Nico’s fixed gaze, jiggling the padlock chain necklace he wore and making the links clink softly against each other. Nico unfroze, remembering why kissing Julio would be a bad idea, among all the other questionable ideas they had that night.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he lied. “I just zoned out for a minute.”

Julio –Khaled’s boyfriend –opened his mouth halfway, as if he were about to call Nico out on his lie, but whatever thought flashed between those hazel eyes compelled him to shut it again. He trudged away from the restroom and towards Nico’s Jeep.

Nico exhaled a frosty sigh. Of all the times to have a bi awakening, why did it have to be with a compulsive liar and a gun-for-hire? Why couldn’t he have this realization in high school, when the options were much lower stakes? He shook his head and followed.

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[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Finn's R P.E. Vignette, in which he falls from his broom and gets a concussion. 1k+

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Falling

There were a number of things on land Finn had never experienced before. Fire, walking, spices, fruit flying, et cetera. They were odd, alien, but not exactly uninjoyable.

One sensation Finn had never experienced, apart when he tripped, but that didn't really count, was falling.

Well, he was falling now, and, quite frankly, he was not fond of the experience. In fact, it was quite terrifying.

Finn silently cursed himself for being so overconfident in his own abilities. Really, if he had thought to account for turbulence, he wouldn't have wind striking past his face and bringing tears to his eyes as the ground grew startlingly close startlingly fast.

It wasn't long until the bright blue of the sky was obscured by a great expanse of green, and he covered his face and braced for impact.

Finn collided with the ground with a resonant 'crack', tumbling until he came to a stop on his back. Pain spiked through every part of his body, and his mouth tasted like iron. He blinked up at the sky, stars completely blurring his vision. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of something sticky and warm at the back of his head.

He could hear someone shouting, but the loud ringing in hus ears drowned out the words. A gaggle of students began to crowd around him, faces blurry and words incomprehensible.

...Oh. Someone was... calling his name. Was that Jade? He was pretty sure it was. But they weren't in the same class, so wh- oh, right, joint period.

Jade sounded worried. Azul did, too. ...Azul was here? Of course he was. They were in the same class.

Groaning, Finn propped himself up on his elbows and tried to squint through the stars dancing along his vision. Azul and Jade sort of came into focus, blurry as they were.

"Finn," Jade's voice worked its way through the incessant ringing, though it was muffled and distant. "Finn, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"...Huh?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Finn squinted at Jade's hand, wondering why he would ask such an odd question.

"T-Three?" He slurred. It was difficult to focus. His head hurt. It hurt so badly...

"Finn, try following my finger for me, okay?"

Finn was pretty sure Jade was still holding up three fingers, but he obeyed nonetheless. It was hard... his head felt like it was being crushed...

"He's concussed." Jade declared, and Azul made a very displeased noise.

"Hey, hey, hey, back on your brooms! This isn't a holiday!" Vargas boomed, striding up to squint at Finn. "Especially you two, Leech and Ashengrotto. Your flying is atrocious. Leave Clearcove. He'll be fine."

Azul frowned. "But sir, he's concu-"

"I'll get somebody to take to the infirmary. Get moving, sprout!"

Azul sighed and muttered an annoyed "yes sir," then nodded at Finn.

"I'll see you later." He said, even though Finn couldn't really process his words, and wandered over to Jade and the brooms.

"Rosehearts!" Vargas called, gazing up at the sky. "Take Clearcove to the infirmary!"

Riddle, still in the air, nodded his head and lowered himself to the ground, and got off his broom.

"Yes, sir." The redhead said, looking Finn over with an arched brow. "Alright, Finn, I'm going to pull you up so you can stand. Can you handle that?"

Finn nodded his head. "Mm... yeah."

Riddle leaned down and took hold of Finn's hands, gripping them tightly. Then he pulled, wincing at the effort. Finn was smaller than him, but he was far from light, and the lack of resistance as Riddle pulled him upright nearly made the redhead fall over.

Finn wobbled, leaning against Riddle for balance as stars continued to dance in his eyes.

"Wow." He blurted. He moved his hand to touch the back of his head, biting his lip when he pulled away to see blood coating his fingertips. "Oh dear."

Riddle's eyes widened at the sight of the sticky red substance, and he tugged at Finn's hand in alarm.

"Finn, come. It's quite a walk to the infirmary, and you need to see the nurse now."

Finn nodded his head. His legs shook, but he managed to let go of Riddle and keep himself upright. "Okay."

They made their way across the warm grass of the field, Riddle speedwalking and Finn stumbling, then across the main grounds and into the building. When they got to the stairs that would take them to the hall in which the infirmary resided, Riddle stopped to evaluate if Finn was in alright to ascend them.

To his surprise, Finn simply continued forward, marching up the stairs like a shark on a mission. Riddle hurried after him, looking him over to ensure he didn't suddenly fall over backwards, but Finn remained mostly steady.

"Isn't that painful?" Riddle asked after a moment. Falling from a broom caused pain everywhere, after all.

"Incredibly... sssso," Finn responded, an uncharacteristic chuckle leaving his lips. His voice was slow and groggy, his words slurring. "It's... ex...cruciating.."

And yet, aside from his wobbly gait, he didn't look like he was in any pain at all. Riddle wondered if the fall knocked something loose.

It was only when they arrived at the infirmary, much sooner than Riddle expected, too, that Finn stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face.

"Dizzy." The shark hissed, grabbing onto the doorframe to right himself.

Riddle sighed and took him by the arms to lead him down one of the beds. Once Finn was seated, he leaned down to look him in the eyes.

"How dizzy do you feel?" He asked, speaking slowly and clearly so Finn could understand him.

Finn opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again and blinked at Riddle. "Sssorry, I.. I forgot what you just... asked me."

"It's fine. How dizzy do you feel?"

"...Spinning." Finn slurred after a brief pause. "Feels like I'm gonna... faint."

"Alright, hold still." Riddle took his pen in hand and gently tapped it against Finn's head, murmuring something Finn couldn't hear.

Suddenly , the cloud of dizziness blanketing Finn's mind lifted. He stared at Riddle, eyes wide with surprise.

"What... sort of spell is -"

"My mother is a doctor." Riddle explained, tucking his pen away. "A specialised mage, to be specific. I was prone to dizzy spells as a child, so she taught me this to alleviate them so I could continue my studies without issue."

Riddle faltered, his slate grey eyes peering into Finn's amtheyst ones intensely for a moment. "I... could teach you if you want. I've noticed you get dizzy during the summer."

Finn blinked at Riddle, astounded. The suggestion filled him with an unexpected warmth, but beyond the ringing in his ears was a distant echo of 'debt'.

"Only.. if I... teach you something in return." Finn mumbled, wincing at a sudden spike of pain in his skull. "I know a lot of things... you don't... Rosehearts."

Riddle couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Typical Octavinelle student." He wanted to say, but he held his tongue in fear of Finn rescinding his offer.

Finn knows a lot of things that he, Riddle Rosehearts, doesn't know? What a bold claim. Even if Riddle had not yet mastered them all, he knew of all known kinds of magic on record. Perhaps Finn's concussion was even worse than he originally thought. Where was the nurse?

However, even if there was a possibility that Finn was babbling nonsense due to falling from the sky, Riddle was endlessly curious and hoped Finn was serious. There was no such thing as learning too much, after all.

"I'll hold you to that when you're better." Riddle warned. "You better not disappoint me."

"I won't." Finn mumbled. Then he furrowed his brows. "Can... you bring Jade... 'n Zul up here?"

Riddle blinked. "Why..?" Damn it, where the hell was the nurse?

"I want to... to see them." Finn mumbled. "Want them here."

Riddle sighed. "Finn, they have P.E. now and more classes after that. I cannot interrupt their schooling."

Finn's brows scrunched, and his mouth dipped downwards. Amthyst eyes seemed to lose their shine. "...Ok."

Was he... was he pouting? Riddle could hardly believe his eyes. Finn Clearcove was pouting at him because he wouldn't bring his dorm leader and vice dorm leader away from class to see him.

Before Riddle could tell him to just be patient, the door opened, and the nurse stepped in, doughnut in hand, and stared at them in surpise.

"Oh... hello."

***

Riddle's steps were hurried as he made his way back to the field so he could continue with his lesson. To his annoyance, the period had already ended, and students were packing up their brooms and returning to the main building to get changed.

Riddle bit back a curse and trudged over to where he had left his things. As he gathered them, he glanced to his left and tried not to laugh when he saw Jade and Azul nearby.

Truly, it was a sorry sight. Jade was leaning against the tree, flushed red, and chugging down water by the gallon as if he were dying of thirst. Azul lay sprawled on the ground under said tree, staring up at the sky as if he wished for it to strike him down.

When they noticed Riddle, though, both of them were up and in front of him in a flash, staring at him expectantly.

Riddle huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Finn's fine, for the most part." He said. "He has a bad concussion, but it won't have any long-lasting effects. He needs rest and no more physical activities for the next few days. And please, keep him off his phone and from socialising too much until he's better. I doubt he'll mind that, though."

"Oh..." Jade let out a breath. "That's good, I suppose. He doesn't like being cooped up, though..."

"Well, he'll have to suck it up so he can recover as soon as possible." Azul said matter-of-factly. "My main source of information... out of commission! Oh, how terrible..."

Riddle raised an eyebrow but avoided making any comments. "He wants to see you two, but he'll have to wait until classes are over for the day. I'm sure the nurse won't mind letting his friends see him."

There was a brief pause. Azul put his hands on his hips and frowned at Riddle.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Riddle-san." He said sternly. "We are not friends. We're business partners. We mutually benefit from one another."

Riddle sent him a disbelieving stare. "Sure." He said, internally wondering who would be asking to see his "business partners" while delirious from a concussion.

"Anyway, you need to ensure your student is cared for, Azul. Oh, and be sure to remind him of our agreement.

"Agreement?" Azul questioned, perplexed.

Riddle nodded, smirking. "I'm teaching him a spell. He insisted he teach me something in return and told me he knew something I won't know. I do hope that's true, I'm excited to learn something new. I-"

He hesitated when he saw Azul's expression. The octopus was seemingly frozen in shock.

"Azul..?"

"Oh." Jade grinned. "Here we go."

"Why is he teaching Riddle abyss spells when he won't even consider teaching me?!'

-End

...........................................

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic! I had a lot of fun writing it, though it didn't quite come out the way I wanted it to.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @boopshoops @cyanide-latte @theleechyskrunkly @officialdaydreamer00 @kitwasnothere @the-banana-0verlord @oya-oya-okay @skrimpyskimpy @ramshacklerumble @casp1an-sea

[spandexinspace]

Hey remember how I said I thought it'd be kinda interesting to have a future (future future?) where Cham and Querl are in charge of the Legion?

________________________

Cham wraps one too long arm around his back, leaning so heavily against him one wrong footfall might send him tumbling to the ground. He’s currently more than a full head shorter than Querl, but it seems to do little to deter him.

"Come on, it'll be grand," he says, squeezing Querl’s arm. "I still own the lot, we'll fix it up and then we'll… we'll arrange a try out!" Cham extends his leg to step over a dark puddle, body contouring cartoonishly to follow suit.

"Why should I want to participate in this scheme of yours? We both know the outcome—the danger associated with it. Do you want to be responsible for putting another group of children through what we had to endure?" Querl tries to wriggle out of the Durlan’s grip, to little success, passing through a crowd as oblivious to their struggle as to the conversation they’re having.

"Bah! We never saw it like that back then. Brain-"

"Don't." He jabs his elbow into the facsimile of Cham's ribs. 

"-Querl. Did you ever even care? 'Cause I remember you not caring a whole lot at all as long as you got to do your science stuff, blow up a few labs and flirt around a little." Cham grins and Querl can only roll his eyes in response.

"A gross misrepresentation of events, on both counts," he retorts.

"Come on now, don’t be so sour, you know what I mean. It'll be great fun, it'll mean a lot to the galaxy." 

"Or it'll be rased to the ground on a whim again because the UP decides it's superfluous." Cham pats his arm, though he’s not sure if it’s meant to be a mocking or comforting gesture.

"Nah, we'll do it differently this time around, make sure it's not too dependent on the UP. My accountants have crunched the numbers and it'll be no issue at all as long as people keep travelling. We’ll fund the entire thing." 

"That's a mercenary corps, genius." 

"Only if people don't think otherwise! And isn't that your family business anyway?" 

"It most definitely is not. And this is a dreadful idea, Daggle." 

"Grief, you worry too much. It'll be a grand time." 

He's not sure how—or why—they end up in Cham's condo. One minute they're walking down the crowded streets of Metropolis, the next they're in an ornate, neo-modern elevator ascending to an apartment so far above the ground it's hard to see anything but clouds, their feet sinking deep into the thick, crimson carpet. Another moment, and he's seated in a ridiculously large armchair, bottle in hand. The room is lavishly furnished, all rounded post-war curves in bright, expensive colours and furniture so opulent it makes even him feel small. He takes a long drink from the bottle, the liquid stinging as it runs down his throat. He never did get used to Terran alcohol. 

"It seems rather derivative to return to the Legion after all this time, does it not?" he eventually says, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of white-streaked hair out of his face.

"You know what the Terrans say, don't you?" Cham asks from where he’s sitting on the couch across from him, one arm splayed over the back and legs crossed neatly at the ankles. Somehow, despite everything, it reminds him of sitting across from his father. If not in shape, then in the sense of carefreeness he seems to radiate these days.

"Terrans say a great many things." 

"The charm's in the third try, they say." Cham points his own bottle at him, hands a little hazy, like the concept of fingers has started to elude him. "That's why it'll work." 

"Third?" Querl says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, you see, I finally went through all of dad's old records, and I found the remains of a... Diary? Just a few loose leaves, on real paper, that sentimental old fool. They were ancient, but he talked about a first Legion in there. And you know what else?"

Querl takes another slow, deliberate swig from the bottle, looking at Cham with half-lidded eyes. He has chosen to not change a lot, his social form only looking slightly older than it did so many years ago, but he moves slower, more intently. Yet he still talks too much, as if the universe might run out of words one day.

"Come on," he urges. 

"Fine. What, Cham?" 

"He writes about a Vril Dox." Oh. Querl blinks.

"I see. That Legion." Querl rotates the bottle, intently watching the amber liquid splash back and forth, his mind racing. "That doesn't make sense though, my great-grandfather was dead by the end of the 21st century. Your father was admittedly a strange figure, but he couldn't have been nearly that old. He frequently spoke of making his fortune in the late twentieth millenia, did he not?" 

"Beats me. Maybe he was just a really hardcore fan. Old man always did have a penchant for strange folks. Nevertheless, that's your first Legion." 

"So that's why I'm here?" Cham chuckles.

"Every other reason, old friend. I need someone with their head on damn straight to launch this and from what I've heard you might need a bit of a new direction. Your lineage couldn't matter less." Cham drains his bottle, disposing of it on the large wooden table between them. Real wood, by the looks of it. "Besides, there aren't many other options, are there?"

Almost without thinking Querl’s hand raises to the thin chain around his neck, touching it in lieu of the ring that hangs slightly below his collarbone, covered by his thick pullover. No, there aren't that many options, he thinks. Not anymore.

"That’s supposing we can even undertake a task like this without them," he says, surprised by how low his voice comes out. Cham scotches forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his knees. 

"That is up in the air, but that’s why I say we give it a try. For them, if nothing else." 

"It seems grossly presumptive to assume that they'd all approve of this. I'd wager at least a few of them would rather children remain safely at home. Which they will not, should we fail. And, in a likelihood, should we succeed.”

"And most of them knew that there are children like us out there, who won’t stay safe no matter how much old men don’t meddle in their lives." 

"So, start a day centre for lost would-be superheros, then."

"I seem to recall your husband complaining endlessly about all the sneaking out the academy kids did, so we both know how that'd work out in the end." 

"... That he did." Querl lowers his head. The venture is reckless, idiotic even. But were they not all idiots, once.

"Another one?" Cham says, motioning to his mostly empty bottle. 

"That would seem unwise." 

"Well, it's not like we're being wise tonight." Before Querl has time to protest, Cham swoops out of the room, leaving him alone in that oversized armchair, head spinning. He pulls the ring out of its resting place, holding it up between his fingers to study. As if he doesn't have it fully committed to memory. It's a simple gold band, a little dented and dulled, the inside still worn to a shine. These days it's noticeably thicker than its twin. 

Would he have approved, had it had been him sitting here? Probably. He never stopped looking for danger, for things he shouldn’t but could involve himself in. For wrongs that needed rightening. Impulsive and reckless and braver than anyone could have asked him to be.

Eventually Cham returns, handing him a new bottle without another word. Querl’s own ring clinks against it, the chill of the bottle leaving it just as cool even from that brief of a touch. He tucks the necklace back into place with his free hand and if Cham sees it he’s mercifully silent about it.

"Fine," Querl eventually says, when the silence has stretched out into an ocean. "I'll advise you as best as I can. But I'm not getting into any physical altercations." 

"I wouldn't dare ask for that much." Cham leans across the table and seemingly without any tool in hand pops the cap off his bottle, leaning in so close Querl can smell the bite of alcohol on him. It's a terrible idea, he thinks. But what has he got to lose. “But remember that my office door is always open, especially when my more stature-challenged suppliers drop by.”

As he leans back Cham raises his own bottle into the air, grinning. 

"To the third Legion," he says. 

"To a third Legion," Querl replies.

[theflippedpages]

The Chiseled Catastrophe - 0 (EtN + MCYT)

(This is the start of my new hyperfixation fanfiction. Blocky YouTubers are stuffed into a death-game escape room and have to try and escape while their friends die around them. How fun. :D)

(Also, if there's any other old fics ya'll want me to update, let me know! I got nothing else to do but write this summer break, so I might as well!)

-----------

Episode 0 - The Wax Seal

-----------

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tim," Grian's familiar voice crackled on the other side of the line, "I know you're busy with real-life duties, but I thought I should mention…" 

"Yeah?"

"...Tumble Town blew up.” And quickly added, “It’s not a joke, I swear on my life." 

Jimmy had been planning to take a couple of days off from Empires, but never once had he opened up Minecraft so fast. 

Before he could click onto the world, he spotted his web camera clutching the edge of his monitor, and he was instantly reminded of his duty as a content creator. Running a hand through his slightly damp hair and ruffling it to partially dampen his bedhead, he pulled up his recording software and sighed. 

"I was honestly planning to take a couple of days off of Minecraft to get creativity again, but," he raised his phone, "one of my friends just gave me quite a call… telling me that Tumble Town… blew up." He forced a chuckle as he began to record his screen. "Now, this could all be another bad prank to get me back into Empires… or all my months of work are actually gone."

Jimmy didn't force an emotion for a camera this time as his eyes shifted to the small sheriff plushie sitting on his desk. His heart was racing much more than usual, and he couldn't stop his eyes from blurring. He bit down on his cheek. It's just a game, Jimmy. It's just a game. He told himself, his mouse once again hovering over the 'Empires SMP' slot. It's not life or death. It's just something you do for fun. It's not actually life-threatening. In fact, this would be a great thumbnail and title. 

Blowing out his held-up breath, he clicked in and logged on. The world spawned in little sections as the white sky –wait, white?– filled his screen. Loading in doesn't usually take long… there must've been a ton to update. While he waited for it to load, he paused his recording and casually checked who was online. Some of the Empires' creators were there; himself, Joey, Scott, Marytn, Lizzie, and Joel; as well as some of the Hermitcraft players from the concluded crossover; Grian, Mumbo, Tango, and Ren. Though they had stopped recording about the ‘rift between the two servers’, the players were still interested and intrigued by the buildings and often came to visit off-camera. That's why he hadn't found it strange that Grian had been the one to call him, as he and Scar usually helped tidy and terraform the place when Jimmy was off recording 'lore' with the members of Empires. 

The name tags were less of his worry as he saw a new one join. 'Time_Is_Up joined the game.' He glanced over at his recording software, making sure it was paused. The worst thing I could do is ruin the magic of someone else's lore by showing a camera account. He looked back at the game, noticing the chat light up. 

SmallishBeans: who's that? Smajor1995: I thought it was a camera acc. InTheLittleWood: same here!

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. Was this also part of the story? No.. Someone usually mentions if they're adding an account in our group chat…

SolidarityGaming: you mean this isn't any of ours? LDShadowLady: nope, not mine Mumbo: I thought it belonged to one of the Empires members. Grian: I don't have an account named like that SolidarityGaming: Surely this isn't another ‘Xornoth’ thing, is it, Scott Smajor1995: it's not me this time, I swear!

Either someone is playing a strange prank or… wait, my empire!  He dragged his mouse down to check on the progress of his chunks loading in, reaching over to continue the recording and slipping in his headphones. Once he saw Tumble Town fully come into view Jimmy's heart nearly stopped. 

The once-thriving Wild West town now lay in ruins, its wooden structures engulfed in roaring flames that billowed smoke into the air, and deep craters dug into the red sand below. This town, which had once epitomized the rugged spirit of the frontier, was now a ghostly landscape of destruction. And to his surprise, the sky was still white…

Jimmy, the ‘Sheriff’ who had dedicated months to building up the town and establishing law and order, walked through the chaos with heavy steps. His heart weighed as heavily as the town's buildings, now reduced to smoldering piles of debris. The saloon, wagon, and jail that had once echoed with lively chatter and the jokes of his friends were reduced to ash and charred wood.

Jimmy remembered the countless evenings he'd spent on the top of the sandy crater, looking out over Tumble Town with a sense of pride. He recalled the laughter of Scott as he flirted with him, Joel playing by the TNT wagon, and the harmony that had thrived in this rustic settlement. As he walked, he stumbled upon the charred remains of the large train Scar had built, the ornate timepiece forever frozen in time at the very moment when chaos erupted. The destruction was surreal and heart-wrenching.

“Jimmy!” He instantly recognized the voice as it loudened with each yell. “Jim!” A pair of wings were flying above him, pulling back to land. “Jimmy, what happened here?” It was Scott. “Did your stash of TNT go off? Did someone…” His head moved in a circle as he took in the immense amount of damage. “...Spawn 10 Withers here? Why is Tumble Town so destroyed?” 

“I… I don’t know.” Jimmy admitted, turning to face him. “Grian called me, saying Tumble Town blew up. So I logged in… and…” He looked back into the mesa. “It’s all… gone.” The tragedy left Jimmy with a profound sense of loss. His duties as sheriff had been rendered powerless against the unstoppable flames that devoured the wooden structures. He couldn't help but feel responsible, wondering if there was more he could have done to prevent this disaster.

Smajor1995: Grian, could you come to Tumble Town pls Grian: sure

Jimmy heard the yelling of his fellow Britishman as the brunette landed beside him and Scott. “Grian, how did you know Tumble Town was destroyed?” Scott began asking before Jimmy could even say hello. “Did you see anyone or anything that blew up?” 

“No, no,” Grian shook his head, “I was actually here to steal some gunpowder for fireworks. But when I came by… your TNT wagon was lit up, and it caused a bit of a large crater. I thought it was just a silly mistake, and I turned to leave with my two stacks, but I heard more explosions…” He sighed. “And when I looked back again… there was TNT everywhere, and it was flying, and there was just… so much smoke.” 

“Could you catch any name tag?” 

“Yeah, actually, I think I saw-” Grian’s voice withered as he checked the chat. The messages flew quickly in succession.

Tango: Guys, I got a letter Grian: What letter?  Mumbo: I got one too Smajor1995: you mean, your internet bill?  Tango: no, no, like an invitation Tango: It’s like Minecraft themed RenDog: as I as well

“If you’d like, Sheriff, you could stay in my Inn back in Chromia for now,” Scott flirted, hoping to lighten the mood. Jimmy would usually push the woo away with a laugh and an assurance he’d do it on his own, but now, accepted it with a kind nod. 

“That would actually be very nice, Scott. The more I look at this, the more I feel absolutely enraged.” Jimmy tried to keep his eyes away from the destruction and toward the chat, but the flames and smoke distracted him quickly. “I’m just going to diffuse the fire… I don’t want it to expand and destroy more than it already has.” The blonde slowly trudged toward the fire as Grian monitored the lines on the screen, curious about the conversation.

Mumbo: I thought it was something from Mojang Tango: That’s what I’m thinking Grian: ooh, if it's from Mojang, have fun Mumbo: Grian, check if you got one too, the letter says 10 members Tango: 10 members from ALL over Minecraft, i don’t think they’d invite all from hermitcraft  RenDog: the letter doesn’t say ‘all’ though Mumbo: Wait, it says we shouldn’t talk about this… Tango: oh RenDog: pretend this never happened, guys. there was no letter.

Grian laughed. 

Grian: Letter? What letter? 

And the chat fell silent again as a few people began to sign off. 

Smajor1995: Btw, Jimmy’s place has been blown up, does anyone know who did it? LDShadowLady: like, in roleplay, or actuality?  Grian: Tumble Town was absolutely destroyed  JoeyGraceffa: no way

Grian frowned. 

LDShadowLady: oh my, Jimmy do you need resources to rebuild? SmallishBeans: we’d love to help, Jim Smajor1995: I’m gonna get him to stay in Chromia for now InTheLittleWood: who would do such a thing?

〰〰〰〰〰

Grian's room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the glow of his computer screen. The sounds of the faraway flicker of fire from the destroyed Tumble Town was an eerie, yet peaceful sound to listen to, paired with the quiet hum of the Minecraft soundtrack. But then, amidst the digital noise, he heard it – a gentle chime, like a distant doorbell. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Nobody ever rang his doorbell while he was gaming, and he wasn't expecting any visitors.

Pushing himself away from the desk, he rose from his gaming chair and padded softly across the room. The brunette reached the door, hand on the knob, ready to fling it open with a playful grin. However, when he swung the door wide, he found no one there. Instead, a simple envelope lay on the welcome mat, just inches from the threshold. He bent down, plucking it from the ground.

Is this the letter they were all talking about? The Minecraft one?

Examining the envelope, he noticed that it was old-fashioned, sealed with a wax stamp that bore an intricate design. His curiosity piqued, he carefully broke the seal and withdrew the letter from within. Grian's eyes scanned the handwritten words on the paper, and his brows furrowed with surprise as he read the unexpected message.

Dear Charles (Grian),

You are cordially invited to a Minecraft-themed party that promises to be an unforgettable experience. As you know very well through your years of continuous playing, Minecraft is a world of endless possibilities, and this event aims to bring that pixelated adventure to life. We've prepared a world full of surprises.

The location of the event is a remote area, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the city, surrounded by dense woods. Don't worry; it's far from the distractions of everyday life. You will also not be allowed to vlog through any other means, as this is meant for you and the 9 other invitees. 

This also means that this invitation cannot be talked about to anyone, whether they be of relevance to Minecraft or not. If we find out that this has been discussed, your offer will be rescinded and all your Minecraft accounts erased. I'm sure you wouldn't want that… and neither would your other invitees.

The environment may challenge your understanding of the real world and the digital realm. But remember, it's all in the spirit of fun and adventure.

Don't let the absence of exits concern you; the event will run through the night and into the early morning, with all food and hospitalities cared for and on the house. 

We understand this invitation might seem strange, but rest assured, it's all about transporting you into the Minecraft universe and creating lasting memories. We kindly request that you bring a sense of adventure and a willingness to embrace the unexpected.

Please be prepared for a night filled with enigmatic challenges, engaging experiences, and the thrill of the unknown. It would be recommended you dress up as your player skin to be recognizable to others. 

We look forward to your presence at the Minecraft-themed adventure. The date will be revealed shortly, and your transportation will also be taken care of.

 It will be an event to remember, and we hope you will leave with stories to share.

"Grian?? Oh, is he AFK?" He could hear Jimmy from his computer back in his room. He slipped the letter back into its casing and walked back upstairs. 

"Sorry, sorry, I'm back now," he blurted out, dropping the envelope beside his desk. "What's going on?" 

"Jimmy's 'bout to continue recording, we were hoping you could hide?" Scott asked, looking back at the still nametag of Jimmy's that had disappeared into the wooden ruins. 

"Oh, yes, sure." Grian was quick to murmur. "I actually think I might just head off right now." 

"Okay, yeah, have a good rest of your day then," Scott spoke as he crafted new rockets with the help of the half-broken gunpowder farm. He had to make his entrance in style, after all. How else was he going to take the spotlight in Jimmy's video?

Once he saw the brunette's name tag flicker out, Scott muted his mic and flew himself a distance over. He still kept himself within earshot of Jimmy's mic so he wouldn't create dead space in his recording. 

Speaking of, I have to start my video soon, if I plan on benefiting from Jimmy's destroyed empire. After all, this is a huge event. I have to get the first scoop before everyone else knows about it. Scott turned on his recording software and tested his mic before waiting in silence. He knew that there would be dead space in his video, but he didn't mind, seeing as he'd have to record himself in Chromia first so it didn't seem suspicious... And then get a message from Jimmy. But he can work out the kinks later once Jimmy's done with his initial panic. 

Grian said he knew who it was… While he heard the Sheriff mumbling about all his hard work gone, Scott's mind couldn't help but wonder who could've done something like this or why someone would do it if it wasn't for any story-based arc. Surely someone would've let Jimmy know before destroying his entire empire… it wasn't even a prank that could be fixed easily. Scott focused on Jimmy's words as they grew farther and farther away. 

"Oh my gosh, Norman!" Scott's eyes widened. Norman? Oh god, is he okay?

"Thank god you're safe!"

And Scott breathed out a heavy sigh. Even if it's just a few pixels, a pet in Minecraft is still a pet. 

"I better tell someone about this… who could've done such a thing! I've been nothing but nice to everyone– even if they call me a toy." 

SolidarityGaming: Is anyone nearby? Please come to my empire.

Scott took this as his cue.

Smajor1995: Anything for you, sheriff. I'm on my way.

He could hear the blonde's flustered sigh, and he couldn't help but grin at that awaited reaction. He instantly shot a couple of rockets into the sky, pulling back from the mesa only to fly in the direction of it, landing close to where he last saw Jimmy. 

"Scott, I'm so glad you're here!" 

Scott made a long motion of looking around the destroyed empire. "Jimmy, I thought this was something sweet, what on earth happened to Tumble Town?!"

"I'm asking you the same thing! I took a couple of days off, and went back to see everything in ruins!" 

"Gosh… maybe it was a stray lightning strike on TNT?" The cyan-haired tried to reason. "Maybe someone brought flint and steel a bit too close to your saloon?"

"Scott, there is barely a half-stack of TNT in Tumble Town. All my stock for trading is all in the form of gunpowder!" Jimmy grew more and more upset with each sentence. "And last I played Minecraft, gunpowder doesn't explode unless it's in a creeper, in TNT or fireworks! And two out of three of those can't create a disaster this big!" 

"Listen… being here is only going to get you further upset. Let's get you to Chromia where you can spend the night. Next morning, I'll call up the other empires and we can discuss what just happened." 

Jimmy hesitated for a moment. Scott didn't know whether it was a show for the camera or not. "Yeah… yeah, okay. I'll just… gather a couple of my belongings." 

Scott nodded, turning to fly back to the top of the crater. "Good, and make sure you grab everything valuable to you."

"Tumble Town is valuable to me." 

At that, Scott nearly broke character. This wasn't the 'Sheriff Solidarity' speaking, it was Jimmy. There was actual emotion in that short sentence. "You'll be okay, Jim. We'll find out who did it." He assured gently, slipping back into his actor-self. 

The cyan-haired didn't have to wait for long as Jimmy came back holding an Enderchest and his sheriff badge in his offhand. "Let's go." 

[maxipad032]

homesick

synopsis: you’re staying in wakanda for research work with your girlfriend shuri, but it’s nearly christmas and you’re greatly missing your home in america, so she makes you feel better about it.

contains: fluff, shuri x american black reader, christmas, suggestive language, cuteness overload

usana - baby (someone requested this on the @maxipad031 account, i hope you see this x)

“hey y/n ?”

you’re snapped out of your thoughts and look to your left as shuri is standing at the doorway of her bedroom with a glass of milk placed on a tray, looking at you worryingly.

“you’ve been out of it the whole day, are you okay baby?” she asked, concerned about your abnormal behavior. you do admit you’ve been zoning out for the last hour after you woke up, but it’s because you can’t stop thinking about your family back home. it’s one week until christmas, and you’d never been away from home this long but your work with shuri was taking longer than you both expected so you had to be here to finish the research. obviously, you loved spending time with shuri as you normally didn’t get to since you lived all the way in america, but you couldn’t help but miss them. it didn’t help that your mum kept on sending you messages about how your siblings missed you greatly.

shuri slowly walked to you and sat on the bed, putting the tray on the drawer besides the bed and lifting your hand up to rub it gently as she lovingly looked at you. you nodded your head, “yeah i’m fine, just thinking about back home.” you give her a crooked smile and yawned, giving your legs their well deserved stretch.

“ah, of course it must be hard, you’ve been away for three months now.” shuri agreed, placing a soft kiss on your hand, “also i must inform you that we probably won’t be done till after christmas.”

“what? but i promised my ma i’ll be back by then.” with an upset expression, you looked at her, sulking greatly as you looked forward to being with your cohort back home. christmas in chicago, especially with all of your family was just amazing and you didn’t want to miss it this year. shuri nodded, “i know, i know, but don’t worry i’ll make it worthwhile.” shuri smiled brightly, stroking your face with her thumb. you couldn’t possibly be mad at her, so you looked away and grinned, “whatever ri.” suddenly, a cool breeze washed over your newly braided hair and you whipped your head around to see shuri flying off with your bonnet, “aye! come back here stupid!” you yelled jokingly as you reached out to her, nearly tripping and falling on the black duvet as you jumped off the bed and ran after shuri down the palace hall. you caught her obviously and grabbed her pyjama collar as you both went tumbling down onto the smooth wooden floor. with vengeance, you climbed on top of her and snatched your silky bonnet from her fingers, placing it back on your head where it rightfully belonged,

“bitch, you can’t run from me.” you said with a cocky grin, sticking your tongue out at shuri. shuri laughed loudly as she looked down and smirked at the position you both were in. she calmed down to stare at you, taking in your natural beauty that shined even more as you just woke up. her hands had minds of their own and shamelessly reached up your body, trying to make it up inside the hem of your navy blue crop top. surprised, you slapped them off, “excuse me, anyone could see us.” you anxiously looked around and tried to get off of her, but she didn’t let you and kept you stationary with both hands holding your waist. annoyed, you leaned down to get a closer look at her, her eyes were glued to your lips and you could see how whipped she was for you, “let go of me stink.” you whispered, smiling against her lips as you were about to kiss her beckoning lips, until you heard a quiet cough come from in front of you both. frozen, you looked at who it was and shuri, who was on the ground, looked back to see the feet of queen ramonda. you hurriedly got off of her, getting up on your feet and shuri did the same thing, avoiding eye contact with her mum in embarrassment and bowing a good 90 degree angle.

“mother, good morning, we’re sorry-” shuri started as she scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

“don’t apologise, it’s young love, i understand.” she flashed a friendly smile at the both of you and continued her journey past you two, who were still bowing as you were caught red handed, “oh and shuri, the house is ready.” she announced, waving goodbye at the both of you.

your face twisted in confusion, “what house?” you looked at shuri but she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. you weren’t buying it and you continued to pester shuri but she wouldn’t say so you just gave up.

“sh, let’s go get ready, we have stuff to do.” she said ambiguously, skipping back to the room you both just came from. sighing at your defeat, you followed behind but you were a bit excited to see what she had planned. shuri and surprises went hand in hand because she was always extra as hell when it came to doing things for you. to be honest you didn’t mind it at all, but felt bad because you were not able to grant the same attention back. she told you all the time to not worry, but it always lingered at the back of your mind.

“let’s see what she’s done this time.” you muttered under your breath, closing the bedroom door and heading to the bathroom as shuri rummaged bodily through the clothes in her messy closet.

~~~

the cold breeze hit your face mercilessly at all angles as you trudged through the crunchy snow beneath you. your teeth chattered as your body temperature was slowly dropping, “are we nearly there yet?” you asked impatiently, adjusting your wool scarf that was slipping off your neck.

“yep.” shuri replied, walking alongside you with both of your suitcases in each of her hand. you were both alone as shuri commanded the dora not to follow her as she wanted the trip to feel as authentic as possible. the mountains looked pretty but the chilly weather was almost unbearable and you couldn’t wait to just get the the house already. you huffed in annoyance, and continued to follow shuri as small snowflakes dropped from the sky. the mountains, with white crests, stood tall and surrounded the area. before long, you could see a cottage coming into view and that’s when it clicked; that’s the house queen ramonda was talking about,

“is that it shuri?” you asked excitedly as you pointed to the house in the distance.

“no.” she replied.

“what?” you were confused, where were you going then?

“i’m joking, of course it is.” shuri let out a small laugh at how gullible you were, and watched as you raced off excitedly towards the cottage, leaving her behind to carry all your stuff. she shook her head and followed you up ahead. you obviously reached the entrance before her and whilst you waited, you observed the house. it looked brand new, like it was just renovated. it was big but still quite small, a perfect home for two people. but most of all, it resembled your house back home apart from the fact yours was more modern but it gave off the same vibes. soon after, shuri climbed up the brown wooden steps behind you and dropped the stuff with a grunt as she stretched her back,

“sorry baby, just got a lil excited.” you admitted, feeling guilty that you made her carry all the stuff all the way from the royal palace to the mountains,

“it’s okay darling, anything for you.” she gave you that iconic eye smile and took the keys from her coat pockets to unlock the dark brown oak door. the latch unlocked and she opened the door to darkenss. she took the first step in and reached next to the door inside to the right and when she felt for light switch, she switched it on. at that moment, the whole place came lit and you looked over shuri’s shoulder, mouth agape at how picturesque it looked. many types of christmas decorations hung nearly everywhere, tinsel along the walls and colorful lights surrounded the area. little metal reindeer’s were lined up on top of the fire place along with those large black and red socks and snow globes.

shuri stepped away from the doorstep so you could walk in, and then she took your stuff inside and shut the door behind.

“shuri, this looks unreal.” you commented, as you examined the place; every corner was something new to look at and you knew shuri ordered it to be like this.

“you think?” shuri took her dark purple gloves and shoved them in her jacket pocket, taking it off and hanging it on a clothing rack next to the television. whilst you were still stuck in awe, shuri came up behind you and proceeded to pull down your coat zip and take it off for you so she could also put it on the clothing rack. a large white christmas tree sat in the corner by the tv and fireplace, the baubles hanging loosely as two presents sat below it in a fashionly order.

shuri stood proudly as she admired the product of what her idea was. you turned around to face her with a fat smile on your face and ran up to her, jumping up to hug her tightly. she caught you with her arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you both steady so you didn’t fall down. you wrapped your hands around her neck and leaned down to pull her into a passionate kiss. she eagerly reciprocated with equal excitement until you both needed air in which you pulled away and hugged her once again.

“you’re welcome.” she said as she dropped you back down onto the brown carpet. you slipped off your winter boots, exposing your santa socks and flung off your wooly scarf as you walked around to closely inspect each and every ornament, “wow, i wonder how much this all was.”

“don’t even worry.” shuri smirked and walked towards the kitchen, “are you hungry?”

“nah…” you replied, as you sat down in front of the fireplace, “how do you turn this on?” you asked as you looked for a solution to your question.

“hmm.” shuri came towards you and pressed an almost invisible button on the side of the fireplace, which caused a large uproar of flames to come out of nowhere. you jumped back but slowly smiled and watched how it crackled and popped. shuri walked towards the luggage and picked it up, “i’m going to put this upstairs babe.”

“mkay.” you replied, as you got up to go sit on the soft light brown sofa in the centre of the living room. the house was so cozy and the perfect cure to your homesickness. it perfectly copied how your house would look like on christmas when your family came to spend it with you. you had no idea how shuri had managed to do this, but she stays doing life changing things for wakanda so this was probably a walk in the park for her. you couldn’t ask for anything better and it made you fall even more deeply in love with her by the second. you pulled out your phone from your jean pocket and navigated to your mums contact where you called her. it rang a few times but she eventually picked up,

“my child, are you alright?” she asked, wondering as to why you called her out of the blue.

“yes mother, i’m fine i just wanted to call you to say i won’t be back ‘till after christmas.” you would still rather spend it with her but you really didn’t mind anymore, missing one year wouldn’t hurt.

“ohh, that’s a shame, we were really looking forward to you coming back.” you could hear the disappointment in her voice,

“i know ma, but i’ll be back right after don’t you worry.” you reassured her.

“okay y/n, take care of yourself and thank shuri for talking care of you also.”

“of course i will.” you smiled at the fact she mentioned shuri. you haven’t told her that you’re both dating, but she knows about your sexuality and you regularly talk about her, like all the time so i think she gets the hint. with that, you ended the call and held your phone to your chest, just over the moon that you heard your mothers nostalgic voice again. shuri came downstairs at the same time and sat down next to you on the sofa.

“who was that?” shuri inquired as she leant back into the sofa.

“my ma, i was just telling her that i’ll be back after christmas.” you replied, sighing as you set your phone down onto the arm of the coach and cozied up besides shuri. she wrapped her long arms around your frame and brought you closer into her embrace which simply made you melt. the living room was warming up gradually and felt much more comfortable and homely. you looked up at shuri and she looked back at you, smiling before she peppered your face with little pecks before kissing your plump lips once more. you giggled and buried your face in her neck; she smelt so nice, like all the flowers in the world as one single scent.

“let’s watch home alone.” shuri suggested, grabbing the remote from the small coffee table. you nodded profusely as that was your favorite christmas movie, you’ve watched it like 10 times. she switched on the television, and went on disney plus where the movie was located, then she hit play. you shifted into a more comfortable position and pulled the thick folded blanket from the back of the couch down onto the both of you.

“switch off the main lights.” shuri commanded to some ai in the house, and the yellow lights immediately switched off, leaving only the christmas lights glowing glamorously. some natural blue light shone in from the balcony windows, which added further to the holiday vibe.

“this is going to be an amazing christmas..” you thought, snuggling further into the blanket as shuri had a firm arm around you, and the opening credits of the movie started to roll.

~~ one week later ~~

“wake up!” excitedly, you shook shuri violently to wake her up from her deep slumber. she stirred and groaned as she tried to face away from you and pulled the cover over her face like that’ll stop you from bothering her. you simply pulled it down and turned her body to face you, “come on baby, it’s christmas!” you squealed, as you jumped out of the double bed and went to the window to look out of it. everything was calm and mundane outside, the palace of wakanda was in the far distance and the sunrise was a nice pink and blue gradient as dawn was setting.

shuri fumbled the sheets and rubbed her eyes with her arms, she wasn’t a morning person if you could tell. you left her to get up on her own and went downstairs to the kitchen, turning on all the lights you came across. you wrapped your fluffy robe around your body since it was a bit chilly, but you turned on the fireplace and some electric heaters.

shuri walked down the stairs sluggishly and wondered how you were so alert with so much energy at like 7am in the morning. you didn’t wait to switch on youtube on the tv and blast your favorite christmas song, all i want for christmas is you. if there were people living besides this house, they’d probably be complaining by now at how loud it was. you took shuri’s hand and tried to convince her to dance with you by moving her around;she was still sleepy but she made an effort.

“more than you could ever know, make my wish come true, all i want for chorus’s is you!” you sang as shuri twirled you and followed your steps. your hyper energy seemed to be absorbed by shuri and this moment between the both of you was so cute, and something you’d been dying to share with her. shuri started to get into it and boogie with you as the song progressed.

“damn, get it.” you laughed and held your stomach as shuri was busting it down, and you soon joined her with your own special moves. as the song came to an end, you pulled shuri’s hand which brought her closer and looped your hands around her neck as you both waddled side to side whilst chuckling at your silly behaviour.

“merry christmas usana.” shuri booped your nose with her finger and used it to bring your chin up before kissing you.

“oh, morning breath.” you said, turning your head away and scrunching your nose in a humorous manner, which made shuri scoff and push you playfully. you laughed whilst stumbling and held her hand, “i’m just joking, let’s go get ready.” she shook her head at you and followed you upstairs.

the rest of holiday consisted of you both doing many activities such as baking cookies, building gingerbread houses, watching more movies, following recipes, dancing to christmas music, snowball fights, and last but not least, visiting the wakandan city to celebrate christmas with the community. honestly, it was just unforgettable and you even considered coming back next year as well. it made you completely forget about your family back home, which made you feel guilty, but you made sure to facetime them at the end of the day to see what they’d been up to. the whole experience had strengthened your relationship with shuri and you just couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

eek im dying, so cute

[oonajaeadira]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @insomniamamma. For the record, I think you write beautiful smut. I appreciate it for its realness and connection.

How many works do you have on ao3? Aw man, you made me log into my AO3 account? I haven't been around there recently because I feel bad about leaving some messages unanswered. Tumbletown is my main fic home and I haven't really had the time to post here, much less on AO3. (Answer the question Adira.) It says I have 19. I don't post there until they're here and sometimes don't crosspost. Mainly I've been posting over there only if I have a complete series, although sorry LMR readers both there AND here.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 260,317. Seeing as how not even half of my fic is up over there, I cringe to think of what my actual wordcount is.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Pedro Pascal. Which is an umbrella for the actual fandoms contained therein.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos According to AO3? Losing My Religion, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop, A Rare Treat, The Sweets Series, Eyes Closed, Comm Open. According to Tumblr: Good. Things. Take. Time. (this one's a Tumble exclusive, dunno if I'll ever AO3 that one), Losing My Religion, Dulces Suenos, The Sweets Series, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do. Every one. I know I'm behind on some and I'm sorry about that. I let that bother me enough that it's getting in the way of my writing and I shouldn't do that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like to leave angst hanging and only use it as a trampoline for a happy ending, but I guess the closest thing I have would be A Kiss Before Dying and in Death We Combine. Even if it ends in "death," at least they get to be together.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them? LOL. Of the multi-chapters I've actually finished, probably A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only in passing. There were the mean girls that were kind of being catty over on a few other blogs about GTTT when it blew up much to my surprise (yes, of course I saw all of that, mean girls gonna mean). I remember some comment about not trivializing massage therapists just because I have a shitty back.... and all I could think was, hey. First of all, I can tell you didn't even read it, you're just mad about it blowing up. Not my fault. Next. Don't talk about my back. You wouldn't like being injured and having people talk smack about a piece of your body that gives you pain beyond comprehension, y'bigot. Also not my fault. Once I realized they were just mean girls meaning, I let it roll off and got my own satisfaction by writing a pretty bomb series based on some of their prompt lists that I never would have seen if I hadn't been clued into the smack. Turn that hate into something great!

9. Do you write smut? I do. Not exclusively and it's never the main dish of the story. If it does show up, it's usually the result of a long period of longing and/or feelings exchange.

10. Craziest crossover? I'm not a crossover gal. Every once in a while I'll write an easter egg into another fic (there are several in GTTT), but nothing heavy duty. There was the time The Mandalorian got something of a cameo in a Sweet's fic tho....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gods, I hope not. That would suck. I hate blocking people.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES! But not in the way you might think! @katareyoudrilling did an amazing job translating the first chapter of Good. Things. Take. Time. into a sexytime roleplay script!!!! I'M STILL SQUEEING ABOUT IT.

13. Have you co-written a fic before? In a way. For a while when RP accounts were in full swing, I was falling very much in love with the adventure I was creating with @morally-gray-prospector. That account was so amazing, run by one of the smartest writers I've ever known here, but they were TOO good and poured themselves generously into their responses, which got them quite a following...and they burned themselves out! While my story with Ezra didn't have an ending, I never expected it to. I meant it when I said it to the writer: I'm just so happy to have an adventure with Ezra and every minute working on it was a joy that I will love forever. I'm glad they had fun too and didn't keep pushing themselves when it was no longer sustainable. <3

All time favorite ship? It's Din and Little Bird. Now that I know how that story is going to soft-end, they're my favorite couple of all time.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will Oh, I'll finish them all. Right now, Branded is in the most danger of lingering, since I have to figure some stuff out with them. But if I could solve the puzzle of Losing My Religion, then I have no doubt that I'm eventually going to get on with that one too.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know what my strengths are, but I like the magic of showing without showing. I like pacing. I enjoy trying to get the characters' voices right and make the dialog real.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am slow. And I make a show of "not following the rules" as if I'm some kind of rebel, but really, I'm just bad at following rules!!!!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language I try to avoid it for the most part because I usually mess it up pretty badly. I generally don't write Din in Mando'a because I haven't really heard him speak it in the series and he seems to always default to Basic even if he understands it spoken to him, so I can't shake the feeling that it's out of character. But Little Bird is a Mandalorophile, so she'd definitely know it and use it. I do sometimes pull in Spanish for Sweets, but it's usually because it's two characters who actually would speak it when Sunday's not around, and even then I try to make sure it's basic enough for folks to follow. The one time I tried to put Italian in I messed it up pretty good, but a beautiful reader helped correct it for me and I'm so so so grateful. <3

First fandom you wrote for I know I have a Doctor Who piece in a notebook somewhere hidden away. And I most likely have a slew of Ranma pieces from my college days. Were there any before that? Possibly.

Favorite fic you've written I have too many. I write really slow, so if it's actually made it to Tumbles, that means I loved it enough to manifest it. Some of them I love because of the fandom, some because of the relationship, some because of the world building, some because of the interaction, and most because of the good time I had writing it. Right now I'm seeing people reading Losing My Religion, and I've had reason to dip into some of those chapters and re-read a little and it's reminded me how much I love writing for the Star Wars universe, how much confidence I have in it. That was the first fic I really wrote, and I put so much of myself into it... so if I choose a favorite, I'll point there first even if it's not really finished yet.

.

tagging: @blueeyesatnight @ezrasbirdie @missredherring @leslie-lyman @prolix-yuy

[talesfromaurea]

Tales from Aurea - Session 0 Now Posted!

Hello everyone! I'm happy to say that the first chapter (Session 0 - Visions of Fire and Ice) of Tales from Aurea is now up on Royal Road 🎉

You can read the full chapter at this link here. Under the cut is a preview of the first section. Enjoy!

Taglist (ask to be +/-): @drippingmoon, @kainablue, @splashinkling, @space-writes

Curious what this story is about? Check out the WIP Introduction here

Sakrattars hunched forward, chin in his hands, and watched the sun disappear beneath the rooftops of Barsicum. It was a boring end to a disappointing day. He pulled the string of his purse closed and tucked it into an inner pocket of his robes, noting its lack of weight with a miserable sigh. With the help of a plain walking stick, he hauled himself to his feet with a crack and a groan.

The woman who owned the nearby dye shop had begun her evening sweeping. Sakrattars felt her eyes on him and recognized the increasing vigor with which she swept the dust of the day off her patio. She was itching to say something rude to him. He tried gathering his things faster but it was no use. It would begin in three more sweeps, two sweeps, one—

“Why’re you always outside my shop?” she finally said with a huff. “Go sit outside Joseph’s place for a change. Better yet, why don’t you go to the Temple of Nargo? Help you find an honest job instead of whatever charlatanry you’ve got going on here.”

Sakrattars had heard it all countless times before. “Sorry ma’am,” he said impassively.

“You make my respectable business look bad!” she complained further. “Drives away the customers! Stop folding that rag of yours and look at me when I speak to you. Aegis in Arcadia, lend me your strength . . . Hey, get back here!” But Sakrattars was already turning into the darkness of the nearest alley. He was eager to be home and knew he would be treated to the rest of her grievances in the morning.

Navigating the narrow stone path between the tall plaster and brick buildings, Sakrattars pulled off a gray wig, releasing a cascade of short black hair that betrayed his youth. He rubbed his ears and winced—the wig concealed their long, pointy tips well enough but not without some pinching. Distracted by the pain, he didn’t see the elderly woman pulling laundry off the line in front of him.

“Watch where you’re going, why don’t ya?” she cried out as Sakrattars crashed into her.

“Apologies.” Sakrattars bowed sheepishly, rebundling his blanket and checking to make sure his purse, pitiful as it was, was still secure in his pocket.

The woman eyed him dubiously—a young elf dressed in tatters and smudged with grime, holding a wig and an old man’s cane. “What are you, some kind of actor?” she asked contemptuously.

Sakrattars scoffed and continued on. Were the moons in shadow tonight? The Abyss’s proximity would certainly account for the foul mood everyone seemed to be suffering from. Wiping his face off as he walked, he was careful to avoid slick puddles of dubious origin and the occasional stray dog nosing through refuse. The only thing that could make his evening worse would be taking a tumble into something unsavory.

He was thankful when he reached the end of the alley without further incident. Pausing to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail, he took a quick look around the corner. There was a group of workers heading home, laughing at some shared joke, and a street cleaner scooping horse manure into a cart, but nobody who might recognize him. The way clear, he scurried across the road to his apartment building.

The landlord was in his usual spot: snoring under an open window in the foyer with an empty bottle by his side. Sakrattars wrinkled his nose as he passed by to get to the stairs. The walls were stained and waxy and the sconces burned out. Fortunately, Sakrattars could see quite well in dim light. 

He disarmed the locking spell on the door to his unit, too relieved to finally be home to notice the rat that scampered into a hole in the baseboards. Collapsing back onto the bed with a heavy exhale, he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the familiar patterns of greasy soot. His room was simply furnished: there was a desk and a chair, a shelf of neatly arranged books and spell components, and a small fireplace. It was the beginning of summer so there was no need for a fire. Quite the opposite, in fact. The air was already stuffy and oppressive. 

Sakrattars stripped off his robes in favor of a light shirt and trousers and threw open his only window. He didn’t know why he bothered, the window was nearly flush with the neighbor’s wall, but maybe that day would be the one where the wind blew at just the right angle to make it inside.

It was then that Sakrattars noticed a letter on the floor. His heart clenched as he recognized the thin paper and delicate wax seal. Tearing it open, he was greeted by the flowing, cursive Elvish that his sister was so fond of.

Sakrattars,

Please consider giving up this foolish pursuit of yours. I know Father would welcome you back if you apologized to him and agreed to study a subject more fitting of an elf lord like yourself. Think of how he must feel: his son gifted in magic and choosing to study divination? Divination is utterly devoid of culture, lacking in any foundation, and associated with scammers and thieves—how could you possibly be interested in such a thing? 

If you agree to switch, Father might even be able to get you in at the Academia Arcana in Aurea. I can certainly mention the idea to him (casually of course) if you wish. You know how he tends to listen to me.

It has been years and we haven’t heard from you. I know everyone here shares my sentiment when I say that we want you to come home. 

Sakrattars snorted skeptically. He continued:

Please write me back. Your behavior is an embarrassment to the family.

Your loving sister,

Mira

Sakrattars had barely finished reading when he crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the ashy fireplace. How did she even find out where he lived? The school must have told her. He made a mental note to speak to an administrator the next time he was in.

He opened a cage on the desk and took out a fat toad with bulging yellow eyes. “So how was your day, Bartholomew?” he asked. The toad blinked in response, his eyelids slightly out of sync. “Not too eventful, I suppose.” Sakrattars laid down on the bed, absently stroking Bartholomew’s warty skin as his thoughts took him down the long road south, towards home.

*

*

The next morning, Sakrattars watched the crowds pass by without truly seeing them. Maybe his sister was right, in a way. He had been attending the University for a decade now and didn’t have much to show for it. A majority of his time was spent making enough coin to scrape by and not on his studies. But since when did his hardships ever matter to his family? He let out a frustrated groan and a passerby started, clutching her purse nervously as she hurried along.

“Pardon, old sir.”

Forgetting that he was currently dressed as an old man, Sakrattars ignored the deep voice at first. A throat cleared, then a large hand waved slowly in his line of sight.

“Old sir?”

This time, Sakrattars looked up to the giant form of a natiuhan. He used to see them on a regular basis in his hometown of Arvisian Bay but they were a far less common sight this far into the Empire. “Yes, ma’am?” he croaked in his false voice, mildly irritated at being distracted from his brooding. “Can I interest you in your future?”

The natiuhan fished through the purse on her belt. “Not mine,” she said. Waiting for an elaboration, Sakrattars noticed that other shoppers in the area were beginning to stare. As well as being an unusual visitor in Barsicum, this natiuhan in particular cut quite an impressive figure. She was tall and burly, with dark tiger stripes tattooed across her tawny skin and a wild mass of dark red curls swooped to one side. The gold jewelry adorning her body chimed softly with every movement. She either didn’t notice all the attention she was drawing or didn’t care.

The natiuhan finally threw some coins into Sakrattars’ sack. “Not my future. Hers.” She gestured to a young girl peeking timidly out from behind her back. Sakrattars hadn’t even noticed the girl at first. She was dressed in a long cloak that looked to be little more than a tattered wool blanket, the hood drawn up far over her head. He couldn’t be sure since her features were so well-hidden but, based on her diminutive size, she didn’t appear to be a natiuhan herself. Natiuhans were known for being a secretive bunch and, despite living and working among other peoples, they tended to stick with their own and it was rare to see one alone. But it wasn’t this fact that made Sakrattars think that there must be something odd about the pair before him. No, there was something more intangible to it. Something he might one day describe as “fate”.

[murderous-fanfiction]

Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Downfall

⚠️Trigger Warning: Bullying/Cyberbullying! ⚠️ It was a normal day, you woke up and got ready. You spent a few months here after randomly being transported here, you took a shower and brushed your teeth. “Grim! Wake up, it's time for school.” you said, shaking Grim awake. “15 minutes..” he said, whining and closing his eyes. You sighed, “Grim, I have loads of fresh canned tuna ready for you.” you said in a sing-songy tone. Grim immediately woke up and looked at you. Luckily just so you wouldn’t have to deal with his attitude, you gave him 3 cans of tuna and he ate them all. You ate breakfast and walked out with Grim walking by you. On your way to NRC, you noticed how people were looking at you, some growling or glaring at you or whispering while looking at you. You got nervous and a tad bit uncomfortable with people staring at you.

"What's up with them, why are they staring at you human?" Grim asked curiously. "I'm not sure why. I'm just as confused as you are." you said, walking inside of NRC. As you walked down, more people were staring at you. You were about to speak when you got a notification. You went on your phone and went through magicam, you felt your heart drop. Scrolling through magicam, you saw the most vicious, horrible things ever posted about you. It got millions of views, with a harsh swallow you opened the comments and read through them. "I never knew they did this type of stuff.." "Can't believe I was never friends with them.." "How could they do such a thing..?." You couldn't bear to read more. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and ran outside. You ran but ended up tripping. You heard laughter, you got up and ran out. You didn't realize you were at the door of Sam's Mystery Shop until you opened the door. "Hey little imp!" You heard his familiar voice, you looked up and looked at him. Tears stained your cheeks, and tears running down them. Leaving Grim behind, he shouted something but you didn't even hear it. Too upset too.

"My little imp, what's wrong?" He asked coming towards you, you hugged him and buried your face in his chest and sobbed. You felt his arms wrap around you and felt his hand rub your back in an attempt to calm you down. He got a box of tissues for you and you lifted your head off of his chest. He looked down at you, and started to wipe your tears off of your face. "Once you calm down, can you tell me what happened?" He asked, with a calm tone. You nodded your head, and blew your nose. You started telling him what happened after you calmed down, you told him the events that happened from walking to NRC, up until now. "I think I also scraped my knee.." you said looking down at your knee. Sam looked down at it, and indeed you scraped it. “You wanna sit down little imp, so I can clean it for you.” he said smiling. He grabbed you a chair and started cleaning your knee, while chatting with you. “There we go, good as new.” He said. “Thank you Sam!” you said, now happy. Just then, Ace and Deuce walked in with Grim. Your face lit up at the sight of them, “Hey guys! How are-” you were cut off mid sentence. "We need to talk to you." Ace said, with no expression on his face, but Deuce and Grim were full on glaring at you. 

"Uhm.. okay what is it?" You asked confused, "Not here. Outside." Deuce said with a cold tone. You waved Sam goodbye, walking out the shop with them. "Alright what is it that you need-" You were cut off with a shove. You tumbled back and landed on the ground harshly. You whimpered in pain. "Care to explain this, prefect?" He said shoving his phone into your face, on his phone was magicam, was an account pulled up that was posting things about things you never once said about your friends at NRC. And what did you see? Things written about them, nasty hateful words you never once said. You loved all of your friends with your whole heart. You started to read them, 'Ace is the most annoying worst person ever. He drags me into his mess along with his buddy Deuce, he has no sense of humanity whatsoever it's so annoying. I can't believe I was friends with him, especially Deuce. He's the stupidest, most annoying person ever. He's so loud and so dramatic, it’s really tiring. Why was I ever friends with any of them, especially with their house wardens and such. But don't even get me STARTED on Grim. They all give me a headache..', You were in disbelief, you never once said anything bad about them, let alone talk bad about them. It didn't stop at Ace, it even got to Riddle, to Leona to all your friends in NRC. You felt your heart break and tears well up in your eyes. "How could you say such things about us?! We trusted you!" Ace said angrily, "I never said anything about you all! We have been friends for nearly 7 months, how could you possibly believe this?!" You said, your voice cracking due to how sad you were. "Hench human.. I can't believe you right now!" Grim said. You felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You wanted to scream and shout, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. “I never realized how much of a crybaby you can be.” Ace said harshly, Deuce was just glaring at you alongside Grim. They just turned around and left you there, you got up with tears in your eyes and walked all the way there. You decided it would be nice to clear your head a bit, a calming walk wouldn’t hurt. You had dirt all over you, along with tear stained cheeks. You were so lost in thought, you didn’t realize you walked in the wrong direction.

You looked around you, and were in a forest. But you didn’t know which way to go, which way was to get out and to Ramshackle. “I’m lost..” You said to yourself. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and you let out a scream. You started sobbing harshly and you fell onto your knees. You tightly gripped the grass. Then you heard a voice, an unknown voice. “Uhm.. are you okay?” A male voice asked. You looked up and saw him. He had the prettiest blue and amber eyes and the fluffiest yet soft looking hair. His eyes somewhat reminded you of Floyd’s and Jade’s, but not really since they are all different people. His hair was white with black tips, and he had a helix ear piercing. “I-I’m okay.” You were mesmerized by his beauty. He reached his hand out to you, offering to help you off the ground. “I’m Clover. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said bending down and kissing the back of your hand.

Hi! Sorry it took so long to get the first chapter out, I was busy with school and was also writing and adding words from time to time, especially in class. Word Count: 5,125 (excluding spaces).

[sasster]

Starved

Uhm. I know I talk a lot about the shit Persep used to do. And also, I realized I've never written an Areios centric drabble in the eleven years that he's existed so. Can I fancy you in a blast from the past?

tws: torture, cannibalism, starvation (but nothing in too graphic a detail)

[doc]

--

“Hey big guy, you hungry?”

The snarl Persep received in return was all the confirmation he needed.

The mortician fully entered the room to find his friend exactly where he left him, shackled to the floor in the corner of his basement.

It was a long and arduous task, getting the poor guy to this point of depravity where he couldn’t even have a proper conversation because of the way the hunger stabbed at him, but Persep was a man of science.

Never a quitter.

Areios stood up as the man of science in question leaned against the doorframe to watch him, it seemed that the emaciated giant couldn’t quite find it in himself to get to his full height. He hunched over in a bid to keep his head from grazing the low ceiling and snarled once more.

“Have you noticed that none of your friends have to check on you?” Persep tutted softly, resting his head against the frame now. “I am the only one looking to care after you, Areios.”

Areios’s snarl died down into a low rumbling growl and, with hunger clouding his judgment, he lunged at his captor only to be yanked back by the chain and accompanying shackle affixed to his neck.

Persep only smiled back at him, having not even flinched for the effort.

“Oh, Areios. Don’t worry, I brought a meal.”

Dazed from his tumble, the giant did not respond to the mention of a meal save for eyeing the doorway with anticipation, ears pinned back.

He couldn’t tell the last time he’d eaten if a calendar was placed directly in front of him.

“Atta boy.”

Persep did not stay in the room to bask in the glory of having tamed his old friend, instead he stepped out to grab dinner as promised.

It was upsetting for him when he’d heard that he was making an effort to kick his cannibalistic tendencies. Inconvenient, really. Suddenly deciding that there are morals and ethics to take into account when looking for a meal.

What was he to do with morals and ethics? He would not just stand around and watch his muscle get all soft on him.

Not a chance in hell. Persep is a man of science after all.

And he’d never been quitter.

All of that to say, Areios was not expecting this meal to be anything other than some poor unsuspecting troll that meandered a little too close to the border of their shared forest. Even then, there was no way of guessing what Persep did end up coming back with.

When the door reopened Persep had a troll in tow by the hair and a grin on his face that was uncharacteristically giddy.

Areios watched the squirming troll wordlessly. The corners of his lips twitched when the scent of fresh blood washed over his senses.

“I keep my promises,” Persep explained as he shoved the blueblood within arms length of the starved behemoth. “I always do.”

Once again, Areios lunged and this time his prey had the misfortune of crumbling beneath him. He dragged them back to his corner before he could even get a good look at them.

Across the room Persep watched with morbid fascination.

Before he got the chance to bite into his meal a voice rang out above the clanging of his chains.

A very familiar voice, high pitched and frantic, as they thrashed uselessly in his grip.

“Areios! Wait. Please.”

The beast stopped, eyes wide as turned the troll to face him.

“Sarrca?” He managed to say, voice hoarse and dry from disuse. 

“Listen to me, I know you’re hungry. I know it. But you can’t let him win. He’ll hold it over your head for the rest of both of your lives.”

Having caught her moirails eyes, she ceased her twisting and turning to pet his arms. 

His stomach growled, ferociously, but the look on his face gave clear insight into the war between love and hunger that waged on violently within him.

“Areios, I –”

Before she could continue her pleading he snarled again, pushed her away, and retreated further into his corner.

“Areios –”

“Areios!”

This time she was cut off by Persep, with a voice louder than it’s ever been. Angrier than anyone expected. Impatience was never a good look on him.

The gazes of the pair followed the sound to make direct eye contact with the mortician just as his eyes lit up from his engaged voodoos.

Sarrca could only sit there, statue still with her mouth screwed shut, as her moirail crawled toward her on all fours.

Persep did not release his old on the two until the sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching, along with the heavy scent of blood, filled the air.

He was delighted to find that the sight unfolding in front of him, grisly affair that it was, did not stop when Areios was released from his control.

His grin only broadened.

“Atta boy.”

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

The farmboy AU continues! Read part one here. Warning for coarse language.

Prev | Next

Jimmy didn't have a clue about half of what Scott and his grandfather were talking about while they discussed the best care for the flowerbeds, but he settled against the porch steps to whittle and was happy to listen to Scott talk all the same. Scott's face seemed brighter while he chattered about the best soil pH and sun exposures for oxeye daisies and rosebushes, and Jimmy's knife slipped and almost nicked his fingers when Scott glanced over and gave him a soft smile.

Jimmy could feel the flush creep up his neck and turned his attention back to his carving. He was just trying to decide if he should shorten the llama's ears when three riders came up the path. "Hello, sheriff," said Jimmy's grandfather to the man in front, in a level voice with all of the caution and none of the warmth it had carried in his greeting to Scott a few days ago. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The big man looked down at him from the saddle, and the deputies behind him placed a hand casually over their guns. "Oh, just making the rounds, checking up on business," he said. "Records show you ain't paid any taxes lately, Jack."

"We're not part of the mesa," said Jimmy's grandfather. "Haven't you said plenty of times, that your territory extends everywhere the terracotta does? I left Tumble Town a long time ago."

"See, I've been doing some thinking about that," said the sheriff, "and I reckon, being this close and all, that if I were to kick up some of this sorry excuse for soil then there'd be terracotta not far underneath it." His eyes traveled over the three of them and lingered on Scott. "Seems you're not doing too bad on coin if you've got a new farmhand, anyway."

"He's not a farmhand," said Jack, "just a wanderer who's helping out a little in exchange for a roof and a meal."

"A wanderer, huh?" said the sheriff. "What's your name, kid? Where you from?"

"Nowhere in particular," said Scott. His voice was casual but his back was ramrod stiff. "Was up north for a while, visited the goblin caves, explored the old ruins."

"If you don't have any further business," said Jack, taking a step to the side and partially blocking Scott from the sheriff's view, "we've still got plenty of weeding and watering to get to today."

"Look, for old times' sake, I won't even take back taxes into account," said the sheriff. "Just the ones for this year. Tumble Town's really struggling lately, and everyone's gotta pitch in if it's to keep growing."

"He already said we aren't part of your stupid town!" exclaimed Jimmy. "We're out here minding our own business, so maybe you and your thugs should do the same!"

"Jimmy," said his grandfather warningly.

"Hah!" exclaimed the sheriff sharply. "Is that how you've raised your boy to talk to his betters, Jack?" He looked at Jimmy like he'd stepped in something behind the barn. "Well, can't be helped I suppose. You can't have expected much from a little bastard your whore daughter dropped in your lap."

Jimmy's face twisted in anger and he leaped to his feet, but his grandfather put a hand across his chest. "I apologize for my grandson's behavior, sir," he said to the sheriff. "I'll have a talk with him."

"A beating would be better suited," said the sheriff, "but I doubt it would do much good." He straightened in the saddle and picked up the reins. "I'll be back in six weeks to collect your taxes. And teach that boy some manners before he winds up in my jail, or dead." He gave Jimmy another glare and Scott another considering look before wheeling his horse around and leaving, his deputies right behind him.

"Hey. Take a breath and relax," said Scott against Jimmy's ear, and his cool hand touched Jimmy's clenched fist. He coaxed the whittling knife out of Jimmy's grip and replaced it with his own hand, entwining their fingers and giving a comforting squeeze.

Jimmy's grandfather was still staring after the retreating riders. "I... I'm sorry, Granddad," said Jimmy hesitantly to the broad back before him. "I didn't mean to - "

"It's all right," said Jack, cutting him off. "We'd best get that weeding done, and I think the beets are ready for harvest." He turned around finally, and Scott dropped Jimmy's hand. "Lots to do in the next few weeks."

"What? You're not seriously thinking about paying him, are you?" demanded Jimmy. "We're not part of the mesa! It's just extortion!"

"Go clear the weeds from the wheat field," said his grandfather instead of answering his question, picking up an empty basket from the porch. "And when you're done go teach our guest what's forageable in this area like you promised."

"But - !"

Jack was already on his way to the patch of beetroot, and Scott took Jimmy's hand again. "Come on," he said. "Some of those weeds are definitely dandelions, and they'll make a great salad." He tugged lightly, and Jimmy sighed but followed him to the field.

[yallemagne]

Brain is paralyzed with ideas.

So yeah. I got back into Homestuck. And an issue that was a minor fixation when I was first into it has come back full force (especially now that I'm better at art/writing/worldbuilding).

Beforus. What the fuck is going on there.

Why does this question rattle along in my brain? Because like. For example, we have three Vantases: Karkat, Kankri, and the Signless (Alternian Kankri). But there's a fourth, unexplored character there. Beforan Karkat. I have always found that strange. Where is my son.

Sooooo, I was unable to get to the part of the comic pertaining to Pre-Scratch my first run around, so I might have to... actually read the comic in full. Oh god. But what I've seen of the Beforus trolls? Most of them aren't really to be taken seriously because their personalities are based on tumbles discourse. They're parodies, which is a shame. I think the idea of a world that coddles the lower rungs into submission instead of culling its population is intriguing.

My MAIN fixation? What are the Alternian Trolls fuckin DOING in Beforus??? We know that Feferi is the ruler, and that is why Beforus is structured the way it is, but what is going on with the others?

It's especially hard to decide with the characters who idolize their ancestors and thus their personalities/fashion reflect them (Terezi, Vriska, Eridan, etc.). They are incredibly influenced by the culture on Alternia to behave the way they do, and with Beforus having a different culture, would they be completely different?? More akin to their Beforan descendants???

None of this makes sense.

Like, we have Dualscar (Alternian Cronus), who I am enamoured with, but what's Beforan Eridan doing???

I'm revealing my shame here, I just wanna know how hot my favourite gets. But to puzzle out his new personality and design, I would have to take into account the rest of the trolls. That is a lot of work. wahhhh whahwahhhhh and I can't draw or write or worldbuild!! Ignore my earlier claim that I've gotten better at it, that was LIESSS.

...hey what's going on with the limebloods on Beforus, were they still completely wiped out??