#but it's never going to go forward because blizzard is shit

[definitelynotstable]

Eyes On Me [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: Ok hello girlies and gays it’s (slight)angst time!!!!! Not sure how long this energy will last but knowing people have read and enjoyed your shit is addictive <3

Synopsis: You're stuck downloading intel with a load of hostiles banging at the door – what could go wrong? Word count: 1.7k Warnings: Blood, guns, wounds, crying? Ghost x fem!Reader (callsign “Rags” because it was the first thing that came to mind): once again not explicitly romantic but our boy Ghost doesn’t leap straight into the lovey-dovey shit - dude is traumatised to the max.

Once again, not proof-read. I don't have the attention span.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

“Easy” and “in and out” were Laswell’s words. Well you had a few choice words lined up for her when you got back.

If you got back.

It was a shit show. Comms were down, it was snowing - no - blizzarding, and the supposedly “near-empty” compound was full of hostiles.

“God fucking dammit,” you swore as you fiddled with your comms, fingers frozen and stiff. “Rags to overwatch, how copy?”

Static hissed back. You resisted the urge to throw the piece of junk across the frozen concrete.

You were in too deep to back out - the way forwards was more clear than the way you had come. Alarms blared and the hallways filled with hostiles. M4 raised and ready, you made your way towards the room holding whatever intel you had been sent to retrieve.

You made it there with little pushback, locking the door behind you and pushing a table over to wedge under the handle. Flexing your thawing fingers, you pulled the hard drive from the front pocket of your vest, plugging it in to the main computer. It was blank for a moment and you felt your heart lurch.

Suddenly the drive blinked to life and code filled the screen.

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 25%

Fuck. You didn’t have much time. You pressed your finger to your comms again, opening all channels.

“This is Rags, currently downloading intel. Anyone copy?”

Static buzzed for a second before a raspy Manchester accent cut through like a knife.

“Good to hear from you, Rags, this is Ghost. Comms are back, copy.”

You sighed heavily, leaning over the desk as the loading bar blinked up at you.

█████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

“It’s at 50%, how long do I have LT?”

“Not long. Get out of there as soon as it’s at 100%. No time to mess around, copy?”

Chewing your lip and glancing over at the door pressed your comms again. “Copy, LT.”

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

The bar progressed slowly under your anxious gaze. A watched loading bar never loads, you thought tiredly. The gunshots in the background were steadily growing louder, you felt like a coiled spring about to be let loose.

“Rags, this is Price, Bravo have been held up, they can’t cover you. You need to get out of there now. Copy?”

████████▒▒ 80%

“Copy, Capt. It’s almost there, I’ll be out soon.”

“Not soon, now.” Ghost barked in your ear, “That is an order, sergeant.”

Gritting your teeth, you glanced back at the screen. It was so close. “Copy, LT.”

You weren’t leaving. Not yet. Slowly but surely it inched closer.

█████████▒ 90%

Someone or something bashed into the door. The lock broke, the table you had shoved under the handle held.

██████████ 100%

Breathing quickly and with shaking hands, you ejected the drive and ripped it out - shoving it back into your pocket.

“Exit point compromised, requesting support, copy.”

“Copy,” Price yelled over gunshots, “Bravo is almost there, hold the fort sergeant.”

Something rammed into the door again. You swore loudly. You didn’t have time. Looking around quickly you shoved the computer from the table, yanking it out of the way before pushing the table up against the wall. There was a window just out of reach you could use the table to get to. Praying it wasn’t bullet proof, you fired a single round. It shattered around you like confetti. Using the butt of your riffle to clear the jagged edge, you heaved yourself up.

A crack sounded from across the room. You turned back in surprise. The table against the door slid back. Something was lobbed into the room. A grenade. Glass crunched under your feet, you didn’t have the time to find cover. It exploded in front of you.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Faintly you registered a voice in your ear. Someone was shaking you. Your body had turned to lead.

Pain seared, fast and sharp against your cheek. Someone had slapped you. Blood dripped from your hairline into your left eye as you blinked up. A skull was floating in front of you.

Ghost?

“Ghost!” Price yelled over the comms, “How copy?”

You couldn’t move your arm to answer. The man in front of you raised his hand to reply. You were jealous. Why couldn’t you move your arm?

“Copy. Need immediate EXFIL.” The Lieutenant rasped, eyes locked onto yours.

“Can you make it to the extraction point?”

Ghost swept his across over you

“We can try.”

You startled as he grasped the front of your vest, pulling you firmly to your feet.

“Can you stand sergeant?”

The world tilted. His words were clear but didn’t register. He swore. They didn’t have the time for this. Looping an arm behind your back, Ghost pulled you along, noting how you sagged against him. You needed a medic but it would have to wait.

“Gaz!”

The sergeant guarding the door turned quickly, eyes widening as he noticed you slumped against their lieutenant.

“Yeah LT?”

“Heading to evac now, cover us?”

The man nodded, lips set in a firm line. “On it LT.”

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

The heli came into view, Ghost was practically carrying you now. Your head lolled against him, pulse slow but steady - he had discarded his glove a while back and his fingers were tucked just under your jawline.

“Clear the floor!” Ghost roared over the beat of the chopper, “get a med-kit, now!”

Eyes wide, Soap heaved the gear cluttering the floor out of the way as Price set out a spine-board. Someone pulled the door shut behind them as he lay you onto the board.

Gaz pulled various items out of the med-kit as Ghost helped remove your vest.

“Fuck,” He whispered under his breath, Gaz looked up and followed his gaze.

“Shit.”

A shard of glass was wedged just under your rib.

Gaz turned to Price who crouched at his shoulder, “How long till RTB?”

The captains face was grim, “A few hours at least.”

Nodding Gaz turned to meet the lieutenants gaze, Ghost had a feeling he knew what the sergeant was about to say.

“We gotta take it out here.”

“Take what out?” You stirred where you lay, blinking blearily up at the four men surrounding you.

Sensing everyone’s hesitance, Soap spoke up with a small smile. “You roll around in a bit of glass, lass?”

You craned your neck to have a look but a strong hand pushed you back down. Stern blue eyes behind a skeleton mask hovered, again, in front of you.

“Remember what happened?” Price asked as Gaz got to work cleaning the more minor wounds littering your body.

You nodded, head nudging Ghost’s knee beside you. “Grenade. Fuckers lobbed one into the room just as I was leaving.”

Soap whistled from where he sat on the side opposite Ghost. “No wonder yer so torn up.”

“Soap.” The lieutenant growled, “not helpful.”

You grinned weakly up at Soap who was looking reproachful. “I appreciate the honesty, Soap.”

“Alright,” Gaz interrupted, he had shed his vest and rolled back his sleeves, latex gloves covered his hands. The smell of antiseptic filled the dusty air. “In the spirit of honesty, this’ll hurt. I’ll need you boys to hold her down.”

Price, headset still on, bent over your legs, pinning them down as Soap reached over your chest. You shivered as cool hands curled themselves either side of your head. Ghost. His thumbs came to rest behind your ears and fingers against the nape of your neck.

“Alright, Rags? You ready?”

“Don’t fuck it up, Gaz,” you say, lips quirking as he huffs.

The first piece of glass came out easily but the next hurt like a motherfucker. You sniffed holding back tears. The military wasn’t particularly the safest environment to cry, especially as a woman.

“You can cry if you need.” Ghost’s soft voice catches you off guard.

“What?” You blink up at the blue eyes above you.

“Cry. It’s good for you.”

You laugh, wincing at the movement. “Y-yeah?”

The stern lieutenant nods, blinking back at you. “I’ve done it myself a few times.”

Soap nods his head from where he is stretched across you, “I’ve seen it m’self.”

Ghost looks up and though his eyes are out of your view you can tell he is glaring at his friend.

You let out a breathy laugh again, lip wobbling. “Alright, if you say so LT.”

“I do.” The gruff voice replies, eyes returning to you.

Glass clinks as Gaz pulls out another shard. “These next few are going to suck.”

Tears leak faster than you can hold them back. Guess it really is time to cry.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” The lieutenant spoke as his thumb swiped under your eye, holding your gaze as another piece of glass is dislodged. You’ve started shaking. Probably shock.

Price grips your legs tighter, and whispers something to Gaz. He nods, holding the tweezers just out of your sight.

“Almost there,” Price grunts, “you’re not broken yet, soldier.”

“No, sir,” you smile, focusing on the way Ghost’s fingers brush your cheek and tickle at the nape of your neck.

Gaz swears. A wave of pain swamps you and your vision fades.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

When you come to, the hands are still there, holding your head. It’s softer than the spinal-board though. And warmer. You shift slightly and the hands softly but firmly hold you still. You blink up and he’s still there.

You’re in his lap, you realise.

He looks at you carefully, like he is asking if everything is ok.

You give him a small smile. “Alright, LT?”

He lets out a surprised huff, chest rumbling. You feel your smile widening as his eyes crinkle slightly.

“Yeah, you?” His voice is husky and quiet, warm breath fanning over your face.

You are the only ones awake you realise. Soap and Gaz snore softly in seats to your left and Price likely in the cockpit.

“Am now.” You reply, closing your eyes, sighing as the lieutenant’s thumb strokes your jaw.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Masterlist

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

"Better late than never" Part 12

Ghost gets a cold <3

Ghost got sent on a mission to Russia, it was supposed to be a quick job for Ghost and in theory, it was. He entered the hostile base situated on the northern side of the country, retrieved the documents Laswell needed and escaped unnoticed. The problem was that after he got to the safe “house” which most people would rather call a glorified shed in the middle of a forest, a goddamn blizzard began. 

So the chopper that was supposed to take him back to the base couldn’t land. Even Nikolai didn’t want to risk flying in that weather, so Ghost ended up stranded, freezing his ass off in that forsaken shack for three days until the storm passed and the chopper could land safely.

Not one day after he got back to base he was already feeling under the weather. The first thing Price asked him after he came back was if he wants to take a few free days. Of course, Ghost declined thinking he can power through it. Yet, he was feeling worse and worse with every passing hour and now he was miserable. He woke up with a stuffed nose, and a splitting headache while also sweating like he run a freaking marathon.

But did he go to Price to request a free day? Still no, he instead proceeded to get ready for training with Soap, ignoring the fact that he almost lost balance while putting his sweatpants on. He missed Soap even if he was gone only for a few days, especially since something shifted between them recently. He looked forward to that training and no flu was going to stop him.

He walked his way to the gym. Soap waited for him in the changing room already stretching, bending over and making his t-shirt ride up a bit. Ghost told himself that his heart beat fast only because he wasn’t feeling well.

“Lt! Ready for our workout?” Soap perked up when he noticed Ghost’s looming presence. “Although I must say, working with Gaz, Alex and Farah for those couple of days was a pleasant change.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ghost cringed at how rough his voice was, there is no way Soap didn’t hear how stuffed his nose was.

Soap’s smirk disappeared and he looked at Ghost unimpressed.

“I meant that they know their limits and don’t force themselves to do shit when they don’t feel well.” Soap crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what are you getting at, Sergeant.” He walked past Soap to the lifting bench, to avoid Johnny’s judging glare.

“You are sick, Ghost.” 

“I am fine.” He said, sniffling.

“You are already wet and you didn’t even move a muscle.”

“It’s hot here.”

“Ghost-”

“Will you spot me or do I have to ask someone else?” Completely ignoring Soap, he grabbed the bar.

The sergeant looked at the ceiling, asking whatever looked over them what did he do to deserve falling for someone as stubborn as Ghost. He went to stand behind the bench either way.

“Lik' talking tae a wall…” He muttered while focusing on Ghost’s weight lifting.

After a few lifts Ghost started to realise that it might have been a dumb decision. He had trouble breathing not only thanks to his runny nose but due to the fact that he had to breathe through his mouth, his balaclava got damp and clung to his face.

A cold shiver went through his body and he was ready to give up, and maybe go on a treadmill when he started coughing in a fit. His arms buckled under the weight and it would fall on his throat if Soap didn’t grab it in time.

When his hands were free he sat up straight still coughing.

“For fuck sake, Simon…” Soap patted Ghost’s back. 

“I am fine-” He coughs again.

“Ah kin see how fine ye are.” The Scot touched Ghost's hand, and was swatted right away. “Ye are boiling hot and nae in a good sense at the moment, ye are going to bed.”

“Johnny-”

“It’s not an argument. Ye either go to bed now or ah’m telling Price and he will put you on leave. Tae yer room- now.”

Ghost was a little taken aback at how commanding Soap got, but he also realized that he didn’t mind it at all, maybe he even liked it. Maybe. 

But Soap didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever, I have paper work to do either way.” He huffed and got up to go to his room.

“Sleep- not work, Ghost.”

Ghost only waved his hand and left.

But Soap wan now on a mission.

****

“Hi, maw! I have a wee question…” Soap called his mom, right after he left the gym.

He knew what he could do to get Simon back on his feet at a record speed. “Ah need yer soup recipe, my… friend is not feeling too good.”

“A friend huh? A special friend?.” His mother asked softly.

“A friend.”

“Och, yer something tae ca' me efter sic a lang time, ask fur hings 'n' nae even tell yer mither yer mukkers name!” 

“Mah, I called ye a week ago.”

“....”

He sighed resigned. “His name is Simon and he needs the soup, can ah get the recipe now? Please?”

“Ahh.. that’s a lovely name… Is he Scottish?”

“No…?”

“Well that's a shame… bit a'm sure he is a crakin' lad.”

“Mah.. he is not my boyfriend, don’t get any ideas.” No matter how Soap wished for it, they still were figuring out their… relationship.

“Och, bullshit ye wouldn’t cook juist fur ‘a friend’” 

“MAH!” Soap grabbed the bridge of his nose. “The soup, PLEASE.”

His mother chuckled.

“Ok, ok… let me think.”

****

Of course, the communal kitchen didn’t have all the ingredients his mother listed but he managed to make a good chicken soup non the less.

Making it took him some time, so when he entered Ghost’s room he expected the man to be asleep. It turned out to be wishful thinking, Ghost was sitting slouched at his desk, sniffling over his paperwork. His mask was nowhere to be seen as he had a handful of tissues pressed to his nose.

“First of all you were supposed to be resting, Two- aren’t you putting your balaclava on?”

“Do you want me to put it on?” He looked up at Soap.

Soap smiled softly when he saw Simon- very snooty and wet Simon, but Simon non the less.

“No.”

“Great, because it’s suffocating me.” He said relieved. “What is that?” Ghost pointed at the bowl Soap was carrying, reminding the sergeant how hot the thing is.”

“Ah, shit!” He placed it quickly on the desk, shaking his hand frantically. 

Ghost snickered at that, but it resulted in some coughing.

“Yer medicine.”

“You made that?” Ghost stirred it with the spoon.

Soap nodded.

Ghost tasted the soup and he sunk further into his chair as the stew warmed his body. It was pleasing and rich in flavour. 

“Thank you, Johnny… It’s nice.”

Soap beamed at the prize. “Ah asked my mah for help, she would make it way better. We don’t have everything on base, but I tried.”

Frow the way Ghost was devouring the soup, he didn’t mind at all.

Soap leaned on the desk.

“Will you please lie down after you eat?” Soap asked.

Ghost ran his hands over his face. “Soap, I am fine. I have been through way worse and I have work to do.” 

“Ye are a bambot! Bullets won’t kill ye, you will work yerself to death with that cold!”

“No one would care either way, Johnny.” He signed.

And that made Soap’s blood boil very quickly.

He grabbed his Simon by his shoulders and spun him in the chair so they were face to face.

“Wha-”

“Don’t ye fucking dare tae blether shit like that. Ah would care ‘n’ ah care aboot ye very much every bloody second. Not only me but our whole team, Simon.  We a' care, sae let yersel' be cared for.” Soap’s voice wasn’t leaving any room for argument, accent thickened, his eyes were set on Ghost’s- making sure that the man will understand how much he means to him. “You got it, Si?”

 Ghost looked at Johnny in awe, not able to break eye contact. He blushed not being able to understand what did he to deserve someone like Johnny in his life.

“Yes, sir.” Ghost finally whispered.

Both of them were surprised, by Ghost’s wording. Both blushing, not being able to hide behind a fake bravado or a mask. The eye contact broke.

Soap cleared his throat and stepped away.

“Then please go to bed already. Ah promise ye will feel better.”

Ghost did as he was told. He snuggled under the warm but rough military blankets. He left some space on the bed.

“Stay?” The question was hesitant- like the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Always.”

So Soap lied on top of the blankets, not yet sure how much touching Ghost wants.

He seemed content with that arrangement.

“When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to get sick.” The confession was unexpected, even by Simon. It just slipped out, his mind wanting to share with Johnny, explain why he acts the way he does.

Soap turned to look at Ghost. 

“What does that even mean, Si?”

Ghost fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.

“You don’t have to explain-”

“I want to.” He cut in. “Just need to collect my thoughts… When I would get sick as a kid, my father would get furious. Call me useless or weak… He would get… aggressive whenever I would say I wasn’t feeling well.” He could feel Soap shifting beside him. “So I started to just pretend I am fine whenever I felt bad, but mom would always know something was wrong. My old man wouldn’t let her take care of me, saying she is going to make me even more useless. So… yeah.”

There was a silence and Simon began to worry that maybe he had overshared, made Soap uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t the case.

“Can I hug you?” 

Ghost didn't know that he needed it, but now that Soap asked he really wanted that hug.

“Yhm” That was enough for Soap to give him a bone-crushing hug. Ghost grabbed Soap’s shirt and hold on to it, hiding his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck. He took a deep breath of Soap’s cologne and the smell of gunpowder. This was nice.

“I would love to skin your father alive.” Soap squeezed him harder.

It made Ghost giggle.

“Get in line.”

I had SO much fun writing Soap's mom! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Have a great day/night!

[pastafossa]

🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

 “Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

  “Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

  “You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

[enkvyu]

the world cries snow.

gojo lifts his foot out from the ground once more. the effort it takes is minimal but piled up repeatedly, the sorcerer only becomes more and more aware of how time consuming it really was.

this was no time to play around in the snow, he needed to find elsa.

“elsa!” he screams, but the fierce winds sweep away his desperate cries. he doubts she could even hear him, if he himself struggled to pick out his voice against the howls of winter.

but hope is a cruel thing, and his voice is torn and repaired over and over with his technique as he searches for elsa with her name.

he contemplates soaring the skies in search of her but erases it quickly from his mind. whilst it would be easier, his six eyes could distinguish her against the backdrop of a blizzard without difficulty, he worries if the sight of him might scare her away.

he had to be careful, he couldn't risk losing another friend due to his ignorance.

gojo trudges onwards, eyes seeking a familiar figure. he pushes aside a cluster of branches and comes face-to-face with a clearing in the forest.

as if fate had relented and granted his wish, his heart leaps with relief then drops in worry at what lay before him.

elsa kneels in the centre, hunched over the edge of a crystal-clear lake.

the beauty of the lake is lost on gojo as his eyes trains on her fragile body, trembling softly.

because the cold never really bothers her anyway, gojo doubts it was the chilly winds that shook her shoulders so.

"elsa." gojo says again, closing in. he watches as her body freezes at his voice, looking over her shoulder to meet his eye.

an electric current runs between them before elsa picks herself up hastily. "gojo! what are you doing here?"

a jolt of pain stabs through gojo's heart as he watches her wipe away half-frozen tears. "i came after you."

"you shouldn't be here." elsa laughs, but there isn't a trace of humour in the otherwise beautiful sound. "i bring danger wherever i go, you won't be safe with me. please, if you care about yourself or even me at all, please just leave me alone."

"wait, you have to listen to me, elsa."

"no! you listen to me, gojo. can't you see what i've done? haven't you seen how many people are in pain because of me? everyone looks at me like i'm a witch." then, quietly. "maybe i am one. but even then, my biggest fear is that you'll come to fear me."

"we can fix this." gojo persists, taking another step after the other. he doesn't miss the last part of her mumbling and hope warms the tip of his ears. "come back with me and we can show them that you aren't a threat."

"i can't."

"you can. it wasn't your fault."

"only you think that."

"and together we can make them all change their mind."

elsa hugs her arms closer. "it's hopeless. they won't believe me."

"i believe you."

"you aren't enough!" she snaps, whipping her head around to glare at him. "the look in their eyes told me enough, gojo. they don't want me there because i'm a hazard. and it's fine, really! i belong here anyway, in the snowy forest."

gojo balls his fists at his side. it pained him to think she didn't understand that she belonged with him. didn’t she feel their connection, the ignition when he draws too close, a sign that they were two kindled flames? together, they were destined to walk side-to-side.

so he tells her. "you belong with me."

elsa's eyes widen, and warmth colours her face. she opens her mouth to deny his words when she finally realises how close he had gotten. a rush of unidentifiable emotions encases her heart and the snowstorm rushing around them picks up in velocity.

"stop it, gojo! don't come any closer."

shit, gojo thinks. he should have been more subtle. still, he wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste.

his hair dances furiously in the wild wind, and ice pelts his uniform over and over, pushing him back. his blindfold is taken by the gales, but he lets it happen. he gives up on coaxing, and takes big, demanding steps forward.

elsa tries to take a step back but the lake stops her.

"please, gojo." she cries and it really is such a beautiful sound, even when shaking with grief. perhaps he really was in danger, and elsa was a siren luring him in for a feast. even then, gojo believes he would walk right towards her as he was doing now, eyes and heart wide open for whatever she wishes.

he had long been enthralled into her trap.

elsa buries her head into her arms, palms pressed against her ears in an attempt to deafen her rebellious thoughts. "i can't hurt you too!" she pleads, withdrawing into herself.

if she hurt even the person who she held most dear, then what was she good for? though their separation would be a wound that never heals, a scab picked at time and time again, she thinks it might be better than this.

a hand grasps her arm and it's warm.

she looks up, eyes wet with unshed tears and finds herself staring into gojo's blue eyes. the shade of blue is startling and for a second, elsa relishes in the calm.

“you could never hurt me.” he promises and his voice is the only thing she can hear in the snow. with her heart beating in her ear, heat rushing to her cheeks, the blizzard around them seems to quieten.

a single tear rolls down her cheek. "how?"

gojo lifts his other hand and gently takes a hold of her’s. slowly, as if afraid she'll run away, gojo brings their interlocked hands up between them. then, he lets go.

panic surges through elsa. she had delusioned herself into thinking that without gojo, she would be okay. this selfless decision of hers was for the greater good, even though her heart throbbed in protest, she had pushed through regardless.

but when push comes to shove, elsa feels the empty hole that gojo's absence would leave, and realises she simply could not be without him.

she reaches forward with a start, then pauses.

her fingers stop centimetres away from his.

"see?" gojo says, a small smile blessing his face. "you can't hurt me because i'm the strongest."

"this is..."

"infinity. a convergence of infinite series so that anything that approaches is slowed down and never reaches." he turns off his technique and closes the gap, interlocking their fingers once more. "basically it means you could never hurt me, elsa. not in this lifetime and not even in the next."

hope is a cruel thing. it overwhelms elsa in seconds and she presses into the hold. the cruel emotion makes her gaze slow as she looks up at him. "then, that means, you're safe around me?"

"even if you did hurt me, did you think i would run away? i couldn't be away from you even if i tried."

“but i pushed you away! do you… do you still even want to be with me?”

the whistling snow picks up again, but it's a slow, dreamy pace that the ice takes on as it encircles the two.

“my place is with you.” he confesses.

"what are you saying? you better not be saying this just to calm me down."

"i'm not." gojo takes their connected hand to his lips and place a kiss to the back of her hand. "i love you elsa. always and forever."

that day, arendellian citizens would witness a sudden clearing of the sky and a lifting of the snow, clouds drifting apart and fading away to reveal the blue skies, a shade as blue as gojo's eyes.

tiktok has done numbers to my brain. dedicating this one to alice my biggest hater bc she has yet to see the vision :3 word dump + not proofread LOL

[astrofiree]

Somethings Need to Change

I wasn't going to get my hands involved in this. I initially skilled through harkre's post yesterday and thought nothing of it. Until someone brought it to my attention because there was fighting in the comments. Now while I would like to slug it out in the replies. However...that gets messy. So instead I'm going to put everyone's replies into a reblog and credit them. Cause that's what you're supposed to do when there's drama on tumblr. Make it easier on people to read and know what the fuck is going on. Which will be below the cut.

@dutifullylamps: Summary: A bunch of things that hurt my feelings and I didn’t like so now I’m trying to cause other people to not like this person because I still have a middle school mentality and I’m bitter.

So for those who aren't aware, Harkre's whole post was about how he was signaled out and believed to be a godmodder. I've gone through similar things myself all because for whatever stupid reason people do not know how to communicate on WoW when it comes to rp. Despite it being a major unspoken rule in roleplay in general. Something that's followed on forums, on tumblr, and other mediums. Why it's not enforced on WoW is stupid.

Now when you bring it up, you're treated like shit who have never gotten out of that Mean Girl high school mentality like dutifullylamps has demonstrated. So here let me be helpful and show at least some guides to roleplay since the community seems to neglect that part. These will emphasize on communication.

I would like to point out that ironically one of the ways we learn how to communicate effectively is by pretending we're doing a role and we can talk out what we're going to do, which is different from rp. So why rpers can't communicate is kind of ironic when you think about it in adult type scenarios. Something I was skimming over trying to find the sites above.

Except people will try to say "but it ruins the story. It makes it seem too ooc." My brother in christ you do not work for Blizzard. Who the fuck cares? I don't want you to hit my character without my permission. Though to argue I feel bad for Harkre cause Residiuum events are always clusterfucks. I try not to get involved because they are. Usually someone pre-determines what my character is doing. Sometimes people whisper me what I want to do when I'm the middle of writing my response.

Another thing I don't get with Moon Guard is the need for someone coming forward with clear issues with someone else. The communication line has been dropped or there is none because again...for whatever fucking reason, people on Moon Guard or well....WoW in general never learned how to properly communicate or even roleplay. Which is honestly mind boggling to me as someone who has rped on forums, and tumblr for many many years. I learned how to roleplay. I learned how to communicate. I come to Moon Guard and what I knew about rp was eviscerated. But anyway the thing that ultimately annoys me aside from the lack of proper communication is that people will attack the clear victim, gang up on them, and then support the abuser. And it's always the enablers of narcissists. Why is that?

Then again I that's also a tumblr issue as well. It's happened in other fandoms on tumblr so I shouldn't be surprised. Our reaction shouldn't be "oh I'm sorry that happened." We should be angrier about it and demand more action. We are all in a community and it's up to us to make this community better. One where victims are properly heard and the narcissists gets kicked out and running for the hills and not the other way around.

@onetimeblog: Instead of sending every single residuum member screenshots and claiming how I "stole" your idea for a minecraft server (really?) and thrashing and kicking and just making yourself look even worse?

And now for the moment we've been waiting for. I'm going to break this section by section because oddly, Niklos decided to put this in the replies one at a time and not a reblog. But even then I'd still break it down.

Anyway, the thing is Harkre probably couldn't hold it in any longer because he kept seeing you get away with shit constantly. Usually what happens when you're abused by a narcissist so long. You hold it in, think you're the problem. You try to do things one way, which is the right way. However, that doesn't work. And trying to ignore the problem doesn't work.

You constantly see your abuser handling things normally. While you have to duck out of places because they somehow manipulated everyone around you to make it seem like you're the problem. I wonder if this sounds familiar Niklos cause it's something that you have been doing for years. There's evidence of it. You can only sweet talk your way out of a paper bag for so long. And DARVO only goes for so long. After awhile you finally have the courage to speak up about it.

Problem is you got caught again. Though this time you don't get to talk your way out of it.

When you know damn well Agonyn doesn't listen to anyone. He kicks who he pleases and nobody can say persuade him to, or not to, otherwise. You were kicked out of Midnight Repose because according to THEM, you ran into their voice chat and started yelling loudly and when told to stop, you didn't. I know now, the one that I thought was your friend, was actually you on a second account. And I also know that you have been the one -

I'm going to point out I don't know what point leads to where since reading through the replies is a pain in the ass. So forgive me if this looks wonky.

I honestly doubt that. I seem to remember Brady saying that he was blacklisted from every other guild because of your shit. Honestly another deflection. "Oh they can do what they want." That and the "you have no friends, it's just on another account." Is some serious bullshit. You don't know anything. You're just trying to make someone be your scapegoat.

Find some new material. You suck at this.

when I was AFKing in the cemetery and I got your PM bomb and a link out of nowhere about Tyragonfal and I had to pan my camera around to see Tyragonfal walk by, so far away I couldn't even cast on her. WTF? And now I know - you were stealthing after her, on your lv20 trial, while on your paid account you were PMing everyone she walked by as far as your camera can see, in the same way you did to me for weeks. To a point where you pissed enough randoms off you got -

Tyragonfal doesn't have many people who like her. For all you know it could have been some random that has the same information.

This information that your buddy is a notorious sex pest. Yeah. I too have the dark knowledge of knowing that and I received it from someone else. I can't remember who linked me it. I know for a fact it wasn't Harkre. But Tyragonfal has other people that don't like her and would try to track her down and do the one thing most trials do in Stormwind...and no it's not look for erp.

Inform the public that there is a piece of crap in our midst and maybe they will stop playing the game. But sure let's turn Harkre into the scapegoat cause he's the ONLY person outside of Brady to actually say something against you.

So like… don't blame me. Nobody pushed you out, you pushed yourself out. The people reporting to Agonyn? Not me - it's all the people that fought your toon while your wore the Residuum tag only to see you log out after hours of emote combat - of which I wasn't even involved in. I just was told. And when a player told you that they don't want to RP with you anymore? You told him "You are involved whether you like it or not." And now you are hyper fixating on me.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. You're one of the principal people organizing the Residuum events and you're always the stare of every single show. There is NEVER a Residuum event where you're not there. Either as the main star or the supporting actor. Never the extra.

Residuum has to do things exactly as you planned it. For example after the week long attack you had Residuum people at the funeral vigil thing as candles. I thought it was weird when a guildie at the time had to take part in it. Even weirder that they were there again as floating candles. I thought nothing of it.

But it's plainly obvious that you control everything. Much like how you control the Cathedral. Ever thought it's odd on how there's no one else that does their own thing in the Cathedral. Everyone has to tow your line. Gee....I wonder why that is? Maybe because you're a control freak.

I wouldn't put it past you to whisper to Agonyn and tell him to kick Harkre or even complain. You did it with Brady. You did it with the Divine Inquisition. That's your thing and even Irwin said it best. You act as thought the Cathedral is yours. Except it's not yours. It never was.

reported and suspended. So like.. harkre? Find a better hobby at this point. Everything you claim, I have receipts on. And now you just openly outed yourself as the level 1 troll that's been harassing me on two accounts - and I know you have a third account you are happily RPing on as well. Because you just don't hide yourself that well. Why don't you focus on that third, unblemished, untouched character and just enjoy RP -

Oh, bullshit. You have jackshit. You have ZERO receipts. If you did you would have posted them already. That's the thing with narcissists like yourself, Niklos, you talk a lot of hot fucking air. A lot. You bullshit more than a politician. But when it comes down to it, you won't produce shit.

And the best part of it is....there's evidence of you constantly bullshitting.

Even your so called post about Brady's accusations, you came up with no screenshots. No fucking evidence. Give it up, Niklos. You should be the one who should play a different game. You should be the one making a new unblemished character. Maybe start anew on Wyrmrest. You'd be great at it. Best part about it is...

There's no one there that you can abuse. Hell you can move your whole guild there.

Let This Be a Message To ALL Community Leaders:

Your role in a community is to not treat everyone like they're your Barbie.

Your role is to facilitate roleplay in a concise manner that makes it fun for everyone. It is not meant for narcissists.

If you cannot fulfill this role, then maybe it's High fucking time for you to step the fuck down.

I'm sick and fucking tired of narcissists getting away with shit. Getting away with treating people like shit for simply saying no. For standing up for themselves after being doormats.

Moon Guard needs to fucking change and for the better.

Edit: Thanks to @certifiedooc for pulling up the related posts. I added it for clarity.

[homesweetgoodneighbor]

Ignore my last post.

I found out that Larian did not crunch their people which is amazing, and I'm glad for that. So, good on them.

But, I also just found out that Blizzard, CDPR, Obsidian, Bethesda, etc. are throwing fucking hissy fits because gamers are looking at them and saying, "YOU HAVE NO FUCKING EXCUSE TO PULL THE SHIT YOU PULL. PAY YOUR PEOPLE, TREAT THEM LIKE HUMANS, PUT EMPHASIS ON QUALITY, AND PUT OUT FINISHED GAMES, GODSDAMMIT!" The Triple A industry is literally sitting there telling us those are unreal expectations. Like, there are quotes from them saying this is an unreal standard.

Notice we're talking about companies that USED TO HAVE THIS AS STANDARD PRACTICE.

No more, because shareholders now run the gaming industry, and those fuckers want high turn around with high profit. They've never gamed. They want games on a conveyor belt with microtransactions, and consumers are fucking tired of it.

Welp.

All forgiven for the $60 when it was still EA.

I now have to spite buy it.

This is voting with my wallet. I don't buy shit for FOMO, but I absolutely do throw my money to support the good people in the industry. Usually that means smaller dev teams. And, if that means buying something out of pure fucking contempt for assholes giving them shit, I absolutely will do it.

.

.

----------------------- When Bethesda had standards, we got Fallout 3, Fallout NV, Skyrim. When they got bought out by Zenimax and ruled by shareholders, we got an unfinished Fallout 4 and that shitstain of Fallout 76. I ain't EVEN looking forward to what they're going to do with Elder Scrolls moving forward. So, yeah, I vote with my dollars, and Larian just got them because I can't punch Todd Howard in the dick.

[lcnelyghost]

DECEMBER NIGHTS - dandy mott x fem!reader

CW: killing & blood references, slight harsh language

SUMMARY: it’s christmas eve, and our beloved dandy’s attitude takes a turn for the worst when both him and dora start an argument with one another. he storms out of the house in his fit of rage, causing you to go out after him and show you’re lover how we should all be treating each other at this happy, festive, and loving time.

“Oo! It’s a cold one out there tonight!” Dora exclaimed, returning back into the house after previously shovelling some snow in the garden.

You took a look out the window, noticing that Dora wasn’t lying whatsoever. You smiled as you watched little snowflakes fall from the sky, landing softly onto the ground.

Dandy lay on the sofa nearby, grumbling at how he couldn’t open his presents just yet. He hated Christmas Eve. Getting to sleep was impossible. The excitement of all the surprises he’d soon be getting kept kicking in, practically making the poor dear totally desperate at this point.

He glanced towards where you were standing, also noticing the cold weather outside. Dandy barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the sight of snow. Just last week, he’d adored how frequently it was snowing this month. That was until he’d caught a horrific cold and found himself stuck in bed for the next few days. Sneezing, sniffling, and constantly coughing viciously throughout his time being ill. He recovered quickly, of course. With Dora’s homemade soup and you’re running around after him, he was better in no time.

He then moved his eyes to take a good look under the Christmas tree, scowling at the unopened presents laying underneath. Both you and his mother, Gloria, knew better than to put all his presents in the playroom. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how quickly they’d be torn open. They were for Christmas, and Christmas only.

“Miss, would you care for a quick snack? I’d be more than happy to fetch you some candy canes and s’mores?” Dora smiled at you.

“Oh that would be lovely! Yes, thank you.” You told her politely. She rushed off to the kitchen, preparing you’re batch of sweet treats.

Dandy only scoffed, slightly offended that Dora hadn’t even offered him anything. Not that it was that big of a deal. If he wanted something THAT much, he could easily kick up a fuss and his mother would insist that Dora get him what he wanted right that second.

Dora soon returned with you’re snacks, setting them down on the glass table.

“Enjoy!” She said, just getting ready to leave the room.

“You never asked if I wanted anything.”

Both Dora and yourself stared at Dandy who was now sat with a massive frown on his face.

“Dandy, you know i’ll share with you!” You told him happily, holding out the plate of candy canes.

He pushed them away, looking back to Dora.

“Boy, you know damn well if you want anything you’re just meant to ask. I made enough for the both of you, so stop you’re complaining.” Dora scolded him.

Dandy quickly leaned forward closer to Dora, his temper slowly starting to break.

“You’re the maid. If you offer one person, then you will offer the rest. It’s simply just having manners, Dora.”

“Hah!” She laughed. “Manners? Oh, you ain’t seriously gonna talk to me about manners.. are you? And I don’t need to offer you! Because everyone in this house knows you’ll demand for it anyway!”

“Guys..” You warned.

Dandy furiously stood up from his spot on the sofa, marching towards the exit of the room. “Shut up, Dora! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!”

You heard him stomp his way downstairs, heading straight for the front entrance. You ran to go get him, but the door had already been slammed shut.

Dora watched you leave after him. “That boy is one rude little shit..” She grumbled under her breath.

***

You tried to see through the snowy blizzard, roaming around the street just a tad bit away from the Mott household. Before you left, Dandy’s car hadn’t moved an inch. So you knew he was just out in this cold weather, alone.

A car passed by, the headlights shining brightly. As it drove off, you saw the shape of a man standing close by.

“Dandy?” You called out.

The man was quick to whip his head around, shivering pitifully. “Darling? Is that you?”

Well, that one was voice you certainly recognised..

You felt a wave of relief pass over you, approaching you’re cold beloved and beginning to feel unsatisfied with his lack of warm clothing.

“Oh Dandy.. you must be freezing! We need to go back home, love.”

“No!” He snapped. “I don’t want to go back and see her. She’ll hold this against me like she does with every other little thing I do wrong!”

You reached out for him, pulling you’re lover closer. “Sweetheart, please. It’s Christmas Eve. We don’t want to miss tomorrow, hmm? All those lovely presents under the tree.. just waiting for you to tear them open.”

You noticed the now intrigued look on his face. His eyes darted from one place to another as he shivered. The vision of a perfect Christmas with the two of you sneaking it’s way into his mind.

“Dandy, this is a time where we should all be happy together. Not arguing nor holding grudges. Come now, we’ll leave and get into more comfortable clothing. I doubt you want to catch another cold.”

He cringed at the thought of becoming ill again and took you’re hand, happily walking back to the mansion.

You heard him giggle softly. “Y/n, when we arrive back home, can I open one of my presents?”

“Dandy, Dandy, Dandy.. what am I going to do with you?” You smiled.

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Update 228 Review: Horse-Trading

Introduction

HUZZAH! The Psychic Sisters Arc is over at last! It started well, it ended well, but there's only so long I can give a shit about Tatsumaki throwing a tantrum and throwing Saitama through things.

Story

Eh, let's make it short and sweet. The chapter deals with the immediate aftermath of Tatsumaki's tantrum through to the next day or two as the fallout looks set to begin in earnest. Along the way, a few sharp deals are struck.

Meta: Ho ho ho

Blackmailers Anonymous

Something I was very glad to see changed for the Blizzard Group in this arc was them being largely hapless. Earlier, we saw Eyelashes, Mountain Ape, Lily, and a few others valiantly try fighting to prevent Apollo from leaving with Fubuki and Tatsumaki. Amidst the air of general discouragement, Eyelashes leads the surviving group to follow Fubuki with purpose, and they don't back down even faced with Tatsumaki. This chapter, we see yet another Blizzard Group member, an as-yet unnamed guy with a distinctive mohawk, show another talent: hacking. Neither he nor Fubuki are slow on the uptake as to what

Thanks to a little negotiating, Fubuki is able to persuade McCoy to concoct a monster attack to explain away the damage to the Hero Association building, Tatsumaki obliges by scattering the monster parts outside -- and coincidentally smuggles Psykos out in the process.

Tatsumaki brazenly insists on being the one to apprehend the escaped Psykos, leveraging her knowledge that the executives didn't want their cover up blown.

However...

If McCoy is smiling, that's because as far as he's concerned, what Tatsumaki and Fubuki have been up to are amateur hours in the damaging information game. He's happy for them to run their hustle for now.

If the Psychic sisters were more astute, they'd be worrying about the operations chief being more amused than annoyed, but they're amateurs.

Speaking of amateurs, let's spare a moment to look at Gearsper. Lots of people have been giving him the side eye for insisting that Tsukoyomi couldn't possibly be real. We do think the gentleman protests too strenously, but what his angle is remains to be seen.

Enlightented Self-Interest Is Next To Altruism

It's official -- I am never getting over how bottle-blonde baby Forte is. No wonder he goes around with hat and sunglasses: he looks too young to be out unsupervised.

He wisely apologises to Saitama and tells the others that it's in their best interests to ensure that they stay on Saitama's good side. Oh, and feed his pets already. Good -- that's the third day of no food, water, or shelter that Rover and Black Sperm were looking forward to.

That said, there is a very strange translation choice in what Forte says, at least as translated by the fan group. Google Translate and individuals insist that what Forte offers to Saitama (other than his old clothes) is a visit to a restaurant that does delicious food and Saitama crying off sick. It has been translated as Forte offering to go clothes shopping with Saitama and Saitama being creeped out.

I'm waiting for Viz to translate, and if it doesn't agree, believe me, I'm asking questions.

Also acting with enlightened self-interest is Saitama, who asks Genos not to report Tatsumaki on the basis that she deserves her time in the limelight. Of course, we're aware that behind his apparent generosity of spirit is the awareness that shared credit means shared blame.

And a billion yen's worth of blame is really too much for one poor-ass hero.

The Chickenheads Come Home to Roost

Despite everything, the good ship Titanic (um, I mean the Hero Association) seems to have weathered the storm. The public, and their rich donors, are back onside having been reassured that the disturbance was just terrible monsters and all is well.

Well.

With that terrible security of the Hero Association's, it's not been hard for Child Emperor to find out the truth of what was actually going on. To say that he's not impressed is an understatement. All is forgiven, Phoenixman!

The only questions are: 1) How far has he dug? 2) How much damage will he cause?

Speaking of callbacks, remember way back when an inoffensive monster pangolin was systematically skinned alive for its scales until it bloomed into a highly-dangerous demon-level monster? Metal Knight looked cynically on the whole affair.

It looks like selling monsters on the black market is much more widespread than we initially thought. Fubuki having evidence of McCoy personally looking to enrich himself was very unedifying. And he's not the only one. However, that's not the worst of it.

Never mind the personal profit motive -- if they're lucky, the monsters are just going to wealthy individuals keen to have the most exotic pets ever.

If they're unlucky, there's outfits who have plans to use monsters to make weapons. I don't need the webcomic to point that out:

Maybe Drive Knight is ethical and above board (cynical laugh), but some of the outfits developing those weapons could be intending to use them against the Hero Association.

[zipndots]

Saw the tags.

Here's an invitation to scream about the way people treat having a car/driver's license.

oh look at you, enabler you <33 (i literally moved to my pc so i can type this out just a smidge faster and more effectively. pardon any mistakes)

when my sibling was around my age, even a little younger, it got its permit. cool, right? soon enough my big sibling would be able to take me to school and get us food, i thought. its total driving time in its life is around. 4 hours? and thats me being generous.

fast forward ~8 years and im here with 4 hours of driving time under my own belt, hell, even my own car, because my sibling is physically disabled and i wanted to be able to help. thing is, i get so sick and dizzy behind the wheel out of anxiety that i literally cant go on an actual road without crying my eyes out and having a panic attack.

turns out my sibling was like that too, and thats why it had to stop trying.

my own reasoning to justify this anxiety and this sheer dread is because nobody can actually drive on the road here. i probably know the rules and laws of driving in my state (usamerican, sorry) than the majority of people licensed to drive here. you see people with bald tires flying down the highway at 80mph in blizzard conditions, half the time without their headlights, and no turn signal (either out of sheer laziness or because it is broken). do you know how many people on the road are willingly operating a 2 ton hunk of metal so irresponsibly? too many. too fuckin many. i, as a pedestrian, have accepted the fact that despite having right of way across a street that isnt even busy, will more than likely be run over on a normal day because nobody pays attention to their surroundings.

im constantly hounded by my own mother, who says she understands my feelings and anxieties around driving, on when im going to finally start driving and why i keep avoiding it etc etc etc. she doesnt want to teach me because it scares her. my dad doesnt want to teach me because he doesnt have the time (fair, hes a really busy man). my sibling literally cant walk half the time let alone drive. anyone else i dont trust to be in a car with without holding the "oh shit" handle because theyre impatient, irresponsible, and dont even know how to drive safely themselves.

i cant get a job where im living right now. i just recently learned i have some really bad asthma and that paired with dry air, intense weather (below zero temps in winter, above 100 in summer), and going uphill prevents me from commuting to anywhere close. there was a bus stop once upon a time, but they apparently got rid of it in the route, but never bothered to actually get rid of the stop, so the closest bus stops in either direction are uphill and over a mile away, and i genuinely just dont have the right metabolism to endure that.

every time i mention that to somebody, they always, without fail, say "why dont you just drive?" oh, gee, i dont know, probably the fact that i dont feel safe in something that can easily crush me, next to people operating the same machines unsafely and irresponsibly, and have seen first-hand how bad user error can destroy many peoples lives? combined with the fact that i simply prefer being a pedestrian?

the US is so abysmal when it comes to road safety and accessible sidewalks that its almost so funny it makes me want to cry. i feel disgusting having to use a ride share app or call a taxi and waste 40 bucks on a 20 minute ride because either there isnt a safe bus route/walkway or the route that takes me there via bus takes over three hours, taking up the majority of my day. efficient and safe transport here is so fucking awful and of course they wont fund any improvement on it because they dont see a profit to it. because of cars.

i dont even know how to end this rant. im just pissed off more and want to burn down my local government buildings.

[wack-ashimself]

I am pretty sure Blizzard is lying about overwatch 2...

Head hancho said it was a massive DDOS attack.

Never heard of it. Looked into it. Basically, it overloads the servers by a hacker hacking multiple computers and using them as drones to cause the attack.

Pretty straight forward. Really interesting to read shit, honestly.

I'll attach the link of the thing I read.

Anyways, the entire time I reading, a thought formed clearer and clearer: unless you were a coding/hack genius AND have insider access, no one on average from the outside world would ever know the difference between a Ddos attack and just the servers not being ready/enough/overloaded cuz YOU MADE A CROSS PLATFORM GAME FREE AND DID NOT PREPARE!

Seriously, I think they were unprepared, and the only thing they could prepare was 'it was someone else's fault.'

Whose? Right now, your competition is doing fine. Nobody sees overwatch 2 as a threat because it's more like a big update than a new game. You are threatening the free game market, but, this has been known for a while. They can't forever stop you, and fucking up your launch doesn't seem...beneficial in the long run. Not to mention, EVERY major game company fucks up their launch in SOME way. OWN UP COWARDS!

Blizzard fucked up, and could basically make up a red herring, and no one could disprove it unless they allowed them access (or someone spoke out). Which they would never allow either to happen.

Update: fucking one of the only articles written about it (they just announced it) from a tech site said this <VALIDATION!!!>>>

'It's surprising that Blizzard's servers are being affected this much, as modern multiplayer services are built with protective and mitigative measures in place to help them withstand these kinds of attacks.'

SEE-At MINIMUM they were too stupid AND cheap to prepare OR IT NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED!!!

[changeling-of-the-fae]

One Week Post-Op (and change)

Has it really been that long already?

1 down, 5 to go before I get to ditch the brace (in theory), and not much longer after that before I get tropical recovery time. <3

Tuesday (boxing day!) was my one week appointment. They scheduled my appointments for me (I would never have chosen a 7:45 PT time), followed by an x-ray and the Uncovering.

I'm starting off at around 15 degrees flexion, and my quad is kinda sorta still firing (this gives me hope - I would only wish quad atrophy on my worst enemies.) The target is -4 to 140 to match my right leg.

The incisions look good, no signs of ooziness or anything else. I do have a little calf pain, which I mentioned, but it's more what's expected of an abused muscle than a blood clot.

More than anything, I was looking forward to showering. I've done long backpacking trips before, but there's something different about having dirt and dust all over and feeling accomplished than after you've spent sitting in your pj's, eating Christmas cookies and feeling like a proper potato.

Objectively speaking, it was the most stressful shower of my entire life. I didn't expect to feel so vulnerable without my brace, but I was.

I have a built in shower seat. I was able to prop my crutches just outside the door and get situated before taking off the brace, but I was genuinely afraid. Taking off my exoskeleton, the only thing holding my leg together, seemed like a terrible idea. But damn, did I want that shower.

It was jump scare level timing - I had just undone the first buckle when someone slammed a door in the next room, the crutches tipped over, fell into the shower, and landed on my knee.

It didn't hurt, but this is what I mean about the vulnerability of it - I don't think I've ever been so scared. Ever. And that includes the time I got caught in a blizzard in a strange city, ended up in waist deep snow in whiteout conditions and wondered if I was going to die.

After those crutches landed?

I had to remind myself there's no crying in the shower (...), and I clutched the washcloth bar like the 'oh shit' handle in a car accident and tried to pull myself back together.

I've never had a panic attack, but I can't imagine I was far off. I wanted to curl up in a ball and never come out. It's good that no one else was in line for the shower. It took me a good while to recover.

Eventually I got the brace off and managed to get clean, but that was more than enough excitement for one day.

I've been mostly self-sufficient, but after my shower I called my mom in to pass me my brace, crawled into bed, and slept for a few hours.

After that...things have been better. I can put full weight on my leg (still with the crutches, so I move carefully.)

My PT schedule is unfortunate because of the holidays, and I can't go back in for two weeks, but I've been doing extra credit exercises and I'm up to 30 degrees of bend.

I get to leave the brace unlocked when I sleep - I still can't sleep on my side, but having a little bend feels SO GOOD.

It is frustrating to be at this phase, trying to focus on making it through each day and not looking where I might be headed (I don't want to end up in MPFL hall of failed recoveries, but it's always a possibility.) Next year I want to be conquering whatever slopeside anxiety I've developed, someplace snowy and brisk.

I'll have more on this later, but I'm very aware that I need to (am in the process of?) making a mentality shift (I hate those.) PT seriously needs to become a lifestyle for me, and not just a bandaid. That's...not the world I come from, but I also come from a world where oil changes and other vehicle maintenance is optional.

If I can learn proper car maintenance, I can learn proper me maintenance, too. Just in time for the new year!

(New year new knee!)

[australia-is-the-greatest]

its sad that i now hate playing overwatch because of the overall repetitiveness and negligence its been given by a trash million dollar corp that blizzard is and now im playin a game that is an offbrand version of league but with gods...........insane.......is this what rock bottom is?

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Twinkle, Twinkle

Summary: Emmet was just confused. What had that Pokemon been? And why was he in the middle of a blizzard now?

Is Ingo here?

Word count: ~2100

blankshippers dni, that shit's gross. Seriously. Get ahold of yourselves

How had he gotten into this mess?

One minute, Emmet had been staring out the window of the Gear Station, closing up for the night, and the next he was in the middle of a blizzard. He’d been minding his business! Checking security footage, ushering stragglers out of the Battle Subway, making sure things ran smoothly at the station. It had to have been-

Oh, yeah. He’d been lamenting about…

He had been gone for three years. Up and vanished one night, without a trace. He had just needed to check the subway for Onix. And then he was gone. Emmet had, of course, left no stone unturned and no car unchecked. Ingo had simply disappeared, as if he hadn’t even existed. All that was found was his Pokemon. Not even a body.

Emmet usually did his best to not think about it too much. The search had been called off over a year ago and while he still struggled to do things like eat and shower, he’d learned to mask it well with a brilliant smile and encouraging words. But there were these few teeny tiny times that he would let himself think of In-

Nope! Not right now! Emmet hugged his uniform tighter around him, extremely thankful for the thik coat and gloves. He held onto his hat with one hand, the other holding his coat securely around him as it whipped wildly in the wind. The snow blew directly into his eyes, his ears, his nose. He could see nothing through the sheer white.

He’d been thinking of him again. And out of nowhere, a small, cute Pokemon he’d never seen had shown up and it chirped at him and what did he say to it? He remembers it somehow asked him what he wanted most, though it never spoke. He’d just known.

What is it you wish for?

The Pokemon had been star-shaped, gold, white, and blue, with small tassels hanging from its pointed crown.

“I wish to find my brother and bring him home. He’s still gone. But he can’t be dead, he just can’t-”

Emmet hadn’t even gotten to finish his sentence before he was suddenly falling - no, suspended? - and with a thump, there was nothing but snow everywhere.

So here he was.

He trekked his way slowly through the snow, shivering violently. No shadows, no noise, nothing stood out against the roar of the storm. Emmet would love to even find a single wall to hole up against until the storm passed.

Had that Pokemon sent him here? Why here? Was it because In- he was here? Could Emmet find him? Was he okay?

The thought of Emmet’s dear twin frozen and dying in this horrible storm pushed him forward. He strode forward with more purpose, picking a single direction and sticking with it. It had to end eventually, right? “Full speed ahead,” he murmured under his breath. He would do his signature pose but he was more concerned with living at the moment.

His mind stayed on that track for what felt like hours. Find him. Find Ingo. Bring him home. It became a mantra, alongside his normal subway speech.

Emmet hadn’t noticed his legs were giving out until his face was suddenly buried in several inches of snow, his hat displaced from his head and his dress shirt soaking in the ice. The Conductor lay in the snow stunned for a good minute before he got the willpower to lift his head. It was just pure white everywhere. Nothing was nearby, nothing could be nearby. He was alone.

Emmet lay in the snow, his eyelids growing heavy and his body shaking violently. He curled in on himself, using his body to dig out a small hole in the snow and burrow a few inches down. At least the wind wasn’t buffeting him.

I’m sorry, Ingo. I wasn’t strong enough. I’ve reached my final destination.

Emmet was starting to feel warm, and that’s when he knew that he wasn’t going to be here much longer. He closed his eyes, occasionally allowing them to flutter open.

A crunch somewhere nearby.

Emmet whipped his head around sluggishly, sitting up as best he could. His fingers were frozen solid, unable to feel most of his appendages by now. He held onto his hat as he saw something other than an endless expanse of white.

A gray figure loomed a few feet away from Emmet. He couldn’t make anything out through the blur of the snow except that the shape was relatively humanoid in shape. It came closer to him, and Emmet thought he could hear a voice. It was hard to say, though. Emmet wanted to shout but had no energy left.

A second, much taller human-shaped figure appeared behind the first. Emmet wasn’t sure if they were here to rescue or kill him, but he didn’t really have much of a say anymore anyway. The first figure stepped ever closer. It much have been a ghost or ghost-type Pokemon, judging by the silhouette. It had two human legs, but its long clothing was absolutely shredded and destroyed, the head covering it wore was showing rips and chunks taken out of it. It came closer and closer, and Emmet could hear a voice for sure now. But he had to be hallucinating. This wasn’t real. He was already dead and this was his punishment.

The figure came forward enough that he could make out its face. Two piercing silver eyes seemed to glow in the storm, a frown permanently chiseled into his face. He sported a goatee, silver sideburns, and was missing his gloves. His ripped coat whipped in the wind, but he did not seem fazed. One hand was fixed to the brim of his tattered cap, almost as if he would tip it at the freezing man. He stared down at Emmet, unblinking.

“...unsafe! Dear passenger, join us to safety! All aboard, we must disembark or be behind on schedule!” A large Pokemon appeared behind the man. It looked like a Sneasel, if Sneasel came in Grepa berry flavor and was stretched vertically. It had massive purple claws, a long feather sprouting from its head, and a large basket slung across its back.

But Emmet was transfixed on the apparition in front of him. “Ingo.” The word was stolen by the storm. His eyelids, despite the surprise, closed lazily and reopened. The man - Ingo, it was Ingo - was bent over Emmet, his face very close. His eyebrows were knitted the slightest amount, which may as well have meant his eyes were popping out of his head. “Ingo,” Emmet managed. “I finally found you.”

He closed his eyes again and when he opened them he was being moved, in a lithe set of arms. Then he roused again and he was set on hard stone. The third time, he blacked out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emmet woke softly, which is not something that has happened in literal years. It felt more like he was being coaxed out of sleep, slowly unpeeling the layers of his unconsciousness rather than simply leaving it. He was aware of something soft draping him, something warm to his right. As he slowly came to, he became aware of a voice somewhere in the echoing room he must be residing in.

The voice is what finally made his eyes flutter open. Above him was pure gray stone, the walls the same shade of rock. He must be in a cave. His body shivered aggressively. A covering was draped over his body, the warm glow of what must have been a fire lit mere feet away from him. From what he could see, there wasn’t much else in the cave. A single large wicker basket sat along the wall, a pouch strewn next to it.

The voice floated over to him again. There was only one voice, no responses. Emmet peeled himself off the floor slowly, making sure to keep the blanket over as much of his person as possible. His normal coat was gone, which unnerved him much more than waking up in a strange place with new people did. His hair was wet, his sideburns sticking to his face. He sat up and faced the fire, getting closer to its tantalizing warmth. As his eyes adjusted, he assessed the new platform.

Other than the aforementioned man-made items, there was a large pile of thick foliage piled in a ring far from the fire. Was that a nest? There were claw marks along the walls, illuminated by the dancing firelight. Long ones. The main area of the cave had a large tunnel leading away at an incline, which was likely the exit. Near the wall on the opposite side of the bags sat that large Sneasel-like Pokemon and-

“Ingo.” Both individuals snapped their heads up to look at him, previously having been focused on something in the Pokemon’s claws. He shivered violently. Emmet wanted nothing more than to run to his twin, hold him in his arms and never let him go. But he hardly had the strength to sit up. Ingo stood from his position, coming to the fire. His gait was uneven, his back hunched over. He held his hands behind his back as he walked, like a soldier. His eyes were glazed over. “Ingo, I…” Emmet sneezed. His eyes watered.

Ingo watched him intently. “I know you,” was all he said.

Emmet paused. “Well of course you do! I’m your brother!” Emmet summoned a smile to his face. He searched Ingo’s face.

He had large bags under his eyes. His frown had lines that were not there last time Emmet saw him. His eyes seemed slightly sunken into his face, his goatee unkempt. He just looked tired. Ingo was watching him just as intently. His haunted white eyes took in all the features that were mirrored on his own face. He said nothing.

“Ingo?” Emmet’s smile faltered. There was nothing in Ingo’s eyes. What had happened to him? How had he ended up out here? “Don’t you remember me?” There was a scary lack of recognition being shown by his brother. Was this really Ingo? Maybe it was a Zoroark playing tricks…

Emmet’s vision narrowed. He was too cold, but too hot, how racing heart sending tremors through his frail body. “This has to be a dream,” he murmured, “I’m going to wake up alone. With my Pokemon. And no brother in my apartment again.” Emmet began rambling to himself, rocking back and forth, still shivering. “I will go to work again. I will battle solo again. I will eat dinner again. But alone…” His breath was coming in fast gasps. So he did the best thing he could to calm him down, murmuring under his breath, “I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I like Double Battles. I like combinations of two Pokémon. And I like winning more than anything else. I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I like Double Battles. I like combinations of two Pokemon. And I-”

“And you like winning more than anything else.” Ingo’s voice cut through the haze of Emmet’s mind. Emmet looked up at him, his eyes wet. Ingo wasn’t looking at him, but somewhere on the wall. His eyes were alight. “You are Emmet. My twin brother.” At that, Emmet flung himself at Ingo. He hugged his legs tight as that’s all he could reach from the floor. Ingo’s arms came down and enveloped him. Emmet wailed loudly into Ingo’s shoulder, thick sobs racking his body. Ingo was shaking.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Each twin simply clung to the other as if his life depended on it, because for all they knew, it did. Emmet was dimly aware of his body becoming warmer and warmer in Ingo’s hold and wet soaking into his shoulder, but he didn’t care. He smelled of outside, of rock salt and dirt and earth. It was almost like being home, except for the tinge of metal that usually clung to his brother.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Ingo was here, he was alive. Emmet had been right all along. Ingo was alive and well. He could work with that. Things could get better now, they had to. He didn’t have to run the Battle Subway alone now, things would be better again. Nothing mattered because he had his other half clinging to him just as tightly. Ingo was murmuring something but Emmet couldn’t catch what it was over the roar of his thoughts.

“I missed you, Ingo. I looked everywhere for you. Please don’t leave again.” Ingo pulled away enough that he could look at Emmet’s face. He was sure he had his signature smile plastered on, as he always did (even without his control). Ingo was frowning, as he always did (even without his control), but Emmet could read his brother still. His eyes held not only tears in them but some emotion Emmet didn’t dare to decipher for fear that he may be wrong.

“I’m not switching tracks again without you.”

[ghosts-u]

[Celestia’s Apostate]

CW:Fatui Au, cursing Gore and blood.

Summry: 500 years ago there was a nation that was the pride of all humanity. It’s name was Khaenri'ah.

With the help of a traveler from an unknown world, they were able to prosper in a world that was ruled by gods.

Celestia, however, did not like this.

Celestia was above all other gods and ruled over humanity. They didn’t like humanity stepping over their bounds. So Celestia ordered the Seven Archons of Teyvat to come together in order to destroy the Khaenri'ah, so arrogant, they thought they could defy them.

Despite their reservations, the Archons could not defy Celestia. So 500 years ago, the nation of Khaenri'ah was destroyed and slowly was forgotten.

To make sure another nation like Khaenri'ah could never exist again, Celestia made a prophecy that if anyone from another world is ever born in Tyevat, they will bring nothing but destruction. So they must be killed as soon as they are discovered.

Now you might be wondering what any of this lovely story has to do with me. Well, 500 years after that decree was made, no one has ever been reincarnated.

Well, no one…Until I was killed and got reincarnated into this messed up world. They call me Celestia’s Apostate because I refuse to die by the hands of the gods.

After risking my life traveling all Seven Nations looking for a place I could go, The Cryo Archon saved my life and took me in.

Now with the help of the Fatui I’m collecting all seven gnosis to destroy Celestia.

Who the hell did I piss off in a past life to make me go through this kind of hell?

If I was going to be isekied, I would have much preferred to be just be born as a slime or some shit to not have to deal with all of this bullshit.

Next chapter-

Snow gently falls from the sky, dancing in the air as it slowly falls to the ground. With an icy breath, I stab into the nameless assassin sent by gods to kill me. The body falls to the ground as blood clings to my skin, freezing into icy crystals. The carnage is evident as body after body lay in piles. Bloody gore taints the once white snow that lay beneath. My fingers tightly grip the polearm, turning blue as they freeze to the iron in a frosty grip. For a brief moment, I admire the snow that slowly falls from above. With heavy feet, I slowly move forward, heading towards an unknown destination.

The gale of snow grows harsher on the seemingly endless icy planes. The wind grows more frantic and a harsh flurry of ice whips against my face as a harsh blizzard starts to form desperately trying to prevent further progress as if to say: Stay away, unwelcomed one. But I slowly win inches as I brave the harsh weather of the storm. In the distance of the angry storm, a shadow appears amid the storm; slowly approaching. The snow slows as the figure approaches. It parts as if welcoming the stranger.

The snow ceases, only to reveal the esteemed cryo archon standing in all her glory, looking down her nose at me, her cold gaze judging as if weighing my worth. My gaze is unflinchingly focused on the archon’s eyes. I know I don’t look very intimidating, My clothes are torn to ribbons and my body is covered in deep gashes while my eyes appear sunken and tired from endless battles. But, standing tall, my spear is held confidently and the bloody blade points up at the archon.

"If you've come to finish me off, I'm sorry to say I fully intend on making it out of here alive," I say, glaring up at her cold, dead eyes. "If you think I won't kill you because you’re an Archon you’re sorely mistaken. I no longer care about that deal after what the so-called god, Justice, did to me!"

Blade at the ready, I prepare an attack, yet it never comes as all the Cryo Archon does is stare me down. "I'm sure you are already well aware that the Celestia are fools. They are not fit to rule over the mortal realm."

I dig my polearm into the ground, leaning upon it when she makes no moves to attack. “Is that so? I wonder what you're really planning? Do you want a scapegoat or perhaps bait?"

"No, not at all. I believe that our goals align with each other. My success inevitably means your success. I want Celestia to fall just as much as you do."

I let out a puff of air that is cold against my lips. "Sure that sounds nice and all but how can you be trusted? You could stab me in the back or pull something like the hydro archon did.”

Slowly she brings her hand out. The polearm in my hand is quickly pulled from the ground and I get into a defensive stance as her hand starts to glow. Something materializes within that light. It looks like a chess piece. It is the cryo Archon’s gnosis, being willingly handed over to me. "I don't-why are you-" Hesitation has been long since been trained out of me, but…like glass, the years of self-confidence and my unwavering commitment shatters as for the first time in a long while, I feel uncertain. Is this a trick? It cant be. Not when she was offering me something so important. Should I accept it? It would help immensely and give me leverage over the Cryo Archon. So why am I so hesitant?

Fear grips me, but why? I’ve been through so much worse before, yet taking such a small item inspires terror. The Tsaritsas's eyes don't seem so cold anymore. The sincerity in her eyes shines. For the first time, trusting someone is a necessity. Of course, I’ve trusted people in the past, but it was never anyone who couldn't be stricken down in a single strike. To put so much faith in a person who could betray me without batting an eye was scary, but for this deal to work, trusting her was not optional.

Her hand slowly reaches out to me and I flinch back. Her hand pauses to hover in the air for a brief moment before coming to rest on my head. I tremble, telling myself it's from the cold as her hand slides down to my face. She gently holds my cheek lifting it to meet her gentle gaze. "Relax, child. I will not hurt you. No one will hurt you anymore." Her arms slowly wrap around me holding no warmth, but for some reason, I feel warm. Tears fall from my eyes as I wrap my own arms around her. For some odd reason, the heavy burdens I had been forced to carry for so long feel like they’re being lifted off my shoulders. The Tsaritsa's hold grows tighter as she gently pets my head and like a dam that’s been broken, I bury my face into her as I start to cry for the first time in years; letting out the years of pain left in my heart.

[Four years later]

"Ugh! What am I going to do? This was supposed to be the easy part! How do I not have a single dress fit for such an important event!" I yell in frustration, my entire wardrobe practically spread out all over my room. I turn to Nigredo who has been sitting quietly in the corner reading a book the entire time. "Would you stop reading and help me! The party's in two hours so come over here and help me pick a dress!"

The Homunculus hums looking up from his book brushing a long piece of hair from out his face. “And out of all the preparations you made, you didn't prepare an outfit?" he questions and I glare at him.

“Forgive me for trying to be resourceful when I have a room full of dresses and thinking I would at least have one that would work. Now less sass and more helping, mister."

"Well as someone who is going to be representing the church, perhaps you should wear your ceremonial clothes,” Nigredo suggests and I frown dramatically throwing myself on the bed. "But I wanna dress up! The whole cute nun aesthetic is fun and all but not when you have to dress like that every day," I complain rolling over to look at him on the bed.

Ruebedo finally decides to help and pops up from one of the piles of dresses. "I think you would look cute in anything, but how about this one?" he asks holding up a pink dress and I throw my head back down onto the bed. "That looks way too childish for something as important as being named 12th harbinger. I need something more elegant and pristine. Something that commands respect!"

Nigredo stares at me incredulously. "I don't know how much respect a ten-year-old can command."

I don't bother to comment, I just turn towards him sticking my tongue out before going back to trying to find something to wear. There’s a knock at the door and I shout a quick, “come in!" expecting it to be a maid with last-minute preparations.

The person opens the door and I hear a chuckle at the door. "It seems I've come at the right time." I gasp rolling off the bed and rushing over to the Tsaritsa wrapping my arms around her waist.

"Oh, what are you doing here, I thought I wouldn't be seeing you until after the ceremony?"

She pets my head being careful of my horns as she brings out a light blue box wrapped in white lace. “When I was going over the preparations you made I noticed you didn't make any requests for new clothing so I had something prepared."

I take the box in my hands, opening the neatly wrapped box. Inside I find a tailored dress that was everything I wanted and more.

“I have picked it out myself, but if it is not to your liking, I have several others prepared-"

I cut her off hugging her with one arm while holding the box in the other. "You’re such a lifesaver. Thank you so much. You're the best!"

I kiss her on the cheek before running off into the other room to get changed.

“You spoil her,” Nigredo grumbles, clearly jealous. The Tsaritsa turns to him with a knowing smile on her face.

"I suppose I do...though I went through so much trouble making matching pins for you and Ruebedo it was would be a shame if you didn’t match."

Ruebedo happily jumps up and takes the pin, excited to match his sister. Nigredo glares, but hesitantly takes the pin attaching it to his suit.

I come out twirling in my new dress. “It’s perfect this party’s going to be so much fun! I bet no one is expecting me to be appointed as the 12th harbinger. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”

Nigredo shakes his head disapprovingly but I see his smirk knowing he’s looking forward to the chaos as well.

The Tsaritsa gently placed her hand on my shoulders and I look up at her confused. “If you don’t wish to do this you can still back out. The plan will still work even if you don’t join the fatui. There’s no need to draw unnecessary attention to yourself.”

I sigh turning away from her and walking towards the frost-covered windows staring at the night sky.

“It’s fine. I’ve already made my fair share of enemies who want me dead. Joining the fatui won't change much and I’m prepared for any backlash the Church will face.” I place my hand on the cool glass staring at the floating city in the sky. “Besides it’s almost time for our plan to fall into action. We only get one shot at this so we can’t fail.” I ball my hand into a fist, pressing it up against the glass. “I’ve sacrificed far too much to fail now. I won’t have anyone ruin my plans now; not even those idiot harbingers.” I slam my fist on the glass covering my view of Celestia as if to crush it. I turn around and smile, dispelling the heavy atmosphere in the room. “Besides I can’t in good conscience just sit around and do nothing when my future is at stake. I’m going to do my best!”

For a moment the Tsaritsa's face falls before she closes her eyes and nods. I walk back over to her and place a hand on my chin. “I’m also curious as to what my harbinger name will be. This is the first time anyone will give me a name in this world…well, one that’s not offensive.” She smiles and pats me on the head careful of the ornament there.

“You’ll have to wait and see now, won’t you?”

She placed a hand on my cheek her thumb gently rubbing it. “Sometimes I wish I could take away the pain of your past, but I know that I cannot change the past. The only thing I can do is promise that you will have Vengeance.” I reach my hand up and hold her hand that’s on my cheek as I watch her glare.

“Celestia will fall to the hands they forsook.”

[elias-code]

The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

-

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

-

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

-

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

-

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

-

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Chapter 1

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Chapter One: UN Village

June, Incheon Airport

Along the curves of the hill

Rolling, rolling, rolling hills

As we climb there’s a broken streetlight

When I see one, I turn off the lights under it

Baekhyun was nothing but ready for the excavation.

You were more than ready for the session.

Both of you, were nothing but two leaders who hated each other equally.

You were eyeing each other with saying no words since your teams came together in the airport. Before this particular moment of departure, you refused to meet with Byun Baekhyun, putting aside meeting with him, you refused even dropping an e-mail in order to let Sunkyungwan Team about Sejong Team. You were clear and strict as fuck, even though two teams had to work together for three months, you had zero intention to get accustomed with the other team leader.

The weather was sunny, nice and warm, however because of you and Baekhyun, your team members were feeling like they were trapped in a fucking blizzard during the coldest winter.

You were aware of your team members had positive opinions of that scoundrel, especially the girls, as you had your first-handed experiences because of your stupid classmates, Byun Baekhyun was very famous of his abilities to cast a spell on women. The problem was he was also famous as a serial dater, serial killer type of men.

A bastard, nothing more nothing less.

“Indy,” one of your team members, Minseok, called you. Although, calling you as Indy was also a habit of Minseok, it was also an obligation for the others, you insisted on calling you by your nickname or your name, instead of calling you as sunbae. You did not like the hierarchical titles. “Should we move into the control point?”

“Yeah, if you are ready.” you replied, grabbing your luggage and the rest.

“I guess we have to alert Sunkyungwan people since we will fly together.” Hyesun pointed out, your eyebrows knitted.

“I guess,” you recall her words. “They also have this information, so we do not have to alert anyone, we are not their babysitters.”

Hyesun’s cheeks were blushing after you kindly scolded her, but she was clever enough to hold her tongue. Your dislike towards Sunkyungwan was not a secret as you used every opportunity to show it. You led your team to the kiosks, counting the heads automatically. You had six here, you were going to have ten more when you arrive to Chios whose coming from all around European universities. With thirteen Sunkyungwan students, the excavation was going to shelter almost forty members. It was going to be massive, you had to admit. You never had more than twenty students in the field till now, but you were going to lead an extraordinary team as Junmyeon craved into your brain’s folds with his hammer of words.

You wished to be with Junmyeon right now, you were more tense than usual. Junmyeon could put you in more stable mood, however you even did not think to name him while the executives were asking your possible candidates. He would kill you merciless, you knew it very well.

Eh, at least you got Sehun, Junmyeon’s brother in your team, he had a lot of similarities with Junmyeon even though he could be noisier than anyone you know, however you accepted him as your dongsaeng, as his precious noona and role model, you also knew how to put him in an order. Then you had Minseok, the eternal field-partner of yours. He was older than you, although he was engaged in a Ph.D. programme in abroad, he willingly accepted your invitation. You had four seniors, Shinhye, Yixing, Jongdae and Hyesun.

To your dismay, two of the seniors who you really could want in your team, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were in that bastard’s team. You were of the fact that they were immensely close to each other, but you wished to have them in your team as their abilities were precious.

Especially Doh Kyungsoo.

You missed that fucking bastard who preferred to be with Baekhyun.

Life, you inhaled. It was not going exactly in the way you could ask.

“On your foot, soldiers.” you called your team around you. “Do you collect all the materials you will be in need of?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae cutely pointed to his tiniest bag. “I am ready to excavate.”

“Exactly you will need every tool you have.” Shinhye smacked her husband’s shoulder. Yeah, you had a married couple in your team, although you were a year younger them, you always regarded yourself as their big sister, if not a mother. “You are going to work too much, Dae. I have sleepless nights because of the burden on your shoulders.”

You could not help but burst into laughs after the look Jongdae gave to his wife. Those idiots, they were so lovely and instead of their endless scolding sessions, they were incredibly fond of each other.

Sometimes you wonder, how having your significant other by your side would be?

You slightly shook your head, quickly climbing out of this deep cliff.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, jumping to the air. “Sejong is ready for the session!”

Baekhyun was watching you with a disgusted expression.

“Move on, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol pushed his body to forward. “We will miss the flight, Goddamnit.”

“Give him couple of minutes.” Kyungsoo chuckled. “He is fucking the girl with his eyes, frankly, he is doing it unapologetically.”

“Which girl?” Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “Do you mean, that girl? You c-

“Of course, I am not.” Baekhyun interrupted Chanyeol, staring at Kyungsoo. “She can go and fuck herself.”

“Well,” Kyungsoo stood up, placing his book into the bag. “I guess, you are going to be one to fuck her, but maybe I am wrong.”

“In her dreams.” Baekhyun laughed. “If she can manage to dream something like this, but I do not think so. That little freak can put even the nuns into a shame.”

“She is beautiful to be honest.” Chanyeol said with no different intention but observing your features carefully. “Okey maybe not the hottest girl in the town, but she is pretty, and I heard she is very clever.”

“She is.” Kyungsoo approved. “But she kicked Baekhyun’s ass twice, so he cannot endure her presence.”

“She never,” Baekhyun grunted lowly. “Kick me or my proverbial parts!”

“Did someone talk about kicking some asses?” Jongin appeared out of nowhere. “I am in.”

“Shut up, Jongin.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “Let’s pick the team.”

The smile on Kyungsoo’s face irritated Baekhyun, he wanted to erase that fucking grin so bad, punching his face but Baekhyun had to hold his manners as the team leader. If they would be in their flat, he could already beat the shit out of Kyungsoo, at least he would try.

Baekhyun hated the fact that Kyungsoo had the exact past with you and him. Three of you entered the department together, instead Kyungsoo went to another university to pursue his master, in the end he testified every moment between you and Baekhyun.

That’s why he was smiling since he learned you were going to be the other team leader.

Baekhyun was aware of the close relationship between you and Kyungsoo, one of his best friends.

Quickly Baekhyun led his team to the control point, close to your team. He was avoiding from this step, however as the leader, presenting his fucking team to your team was his responsibility. When they arrived, he took a deep breath.

“Good morning to all.” his blood started to boil when you turned to him with a displeased face expression. Your eyebrows were knitted, your fucking lips formed as a thick line, your dislike was palpable and Baekhyun knew his own face was mirroring your feelings. “I hope you are fine, could you let me present my team to you?”

Baekhyun wanted nothing but cut the shit off.

“Good morning.” you answered between your teeth. Your voice sounded extremely creepy. “Yeah, go for it.”

You do not make a favour to me, bloody woman, Baekhyun thought but he put all his efforts to control his words.

“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I am going to lead Sunkyungwan Team this year.” he looked at your team members, quickly memorized their faces. “I really look forward to work with you, I wish a good session for us. They are my members, Park Chanyeol, Doh Kyungsoo, Kim Jongin, Kim Danbi, Lee Taemin, Lee Donghae, Kim Jonghyun, Kim Kibum, Lee Seungjo, Kang Seulgi, Im Yoona, Kim Taeyeon and Kwon Yuri.”

“You are like a troop, huh?” one of your girls smiled after Baekhyun finished his presentation.

“More or less.” Baekhyun smiled back to her. What a surprise to him was the transformation of your face. You warmly smiled to the members and bowed to each of them.

Baekhyun raised his left eyebrow, but he could not avert his eyes from your smiling face.

It was pleasant like a spring day and when you smile your eyes were shining.

“Thank you.” he heard your voice. “My team is not big as yours, Park Shinhye, Kim Jongdae, Zhang Yixing, Oh Sehun, Kim Minseok and Song Hyesun.”

“You forget yourself.” Minseok slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Indy is going to lead Sejong Team as she has been leading us for the last two years, you can put your faith on her, she is the greatest.”

“Indy?” Jongin repeated your nickname with a surprised face. “Are you foreigner?”

“Do I look like?” you laughed and prevented yourself from flinching his forehead. He was such a cute kid. “That’s how my team call me.”

“Ah.” Jongin blushed and you could not control yourself anymore.

“But if you want, you can also call me as Indy.” you grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Everything must be equal for the teams since we are going to live together during a whole summer.”

“I would like to.” Jongin bowed to you.

“So do we need to add sunbae when we call you?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Have you ever called me as a sunbae, Doh Kyungsoo?” you coldly replied. “Did Sunkyungwan change your behaviours?”

“Gardens of roses turn to garths of thorns in a second.” Kyungsoo murmured but he was smiling to you, then he opened his arms, catching you off guard because you knew that Kyungsoo was not a huge fan of hugs. “Will you salute me as a good friend, or will I start calling you as sunbae?”

“Shut the fuck up, Doh.” you inhaled, but actually you were happy to see your still-working-on friendship. You moved to hug him, he held you tightly and lifted you to the air, then turned around himself, made you laugh like a 5-year-old girl.

Baekhyun did not like what was happening before his eyes. Kyungsoo had to be with Baekhyun, not hugging you for his fucking dear life, or lifting and turning you around like you were very dear to him. He hated sharing his friends with you, he already lost Junmyeon, he wanted to keep Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to himself. You should be fucking away from them, they were Baekhyun’s and only Baekhyun’s friends.

And there was another fragile issue that Baekhyun had been keeping in the deepest point of his heart and mind, like the palace of Nyx in the darkest part of Tartarus. Extremely delicate, horrendous, and even atrocious.

Baekhyun was aware of a strange presence was lying down beneath his hatred, dislike and continuous loathe towards you, there was a layer of curiosity, something could feed different layers and causing an earthquake in his life. Baekhyun knew that you were his biggest rival, but you became his rival by your talents and intelligence. He knew this and this piece of realization doubled his hate towards you.

The funny part was the things he did not realize. Baekhyun was full of confidence, he was capable of performing even miracles, however he never perceive the fact that you were also a miracle.

“So, what we are going to do?” Chanyeol asked to everyone with a huge, happy smile. Baekhyun fended himself off moaning, happy virus Chanyeol already sensed the chance of levitating the mood between the teams and playing along with it. “Are we boarding?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” one of your boys, Sehun, came close to Chanyeol. Baekhyun and you immediately glared them, noticing the chemistry between these two. Both of you wished to keep the teams apart from each other in order to reduce the obliged interactions between the leaders, but it seemed not possible even from the beginning. Baekhyun was cursing between his lips, you were swearing at the executive board in your mind.

“Indy,” Shinhye whispered to you. “Are you okey? You look like wanting to kill one of us.”

“Not you.” you answered without thinking, then registered to your words. “Ignore me, Shinhye, I am a little bit tense right now.”

“We got your back.” she blinked at you and held Jongdae’s hand. “Let’s start the adventure!”

What an adventure, you thought but silently joined them. Kyungsoo also was walking next to you.

“Why the heck you went to Sunkyungwan?” you spilled the bean. “I always believed you would stay in Sejong.”

“Yeah, that was my intention.” Kyungsoo was plain as always. “However, Sunkyungwan gives me more opportunities to secure my career, Indy.”

“I know.” you had to admit. Sejong was not generous as Sunkyungwan. “Sorry for my selfish words.”

“No worries.” he beamed. “It happens all the time, but I am really happy to work with you again.”

“Old but gold days, huh?”

“Well, it was not purely gold,” Kyungsoo followed the flows and ebbs. “Do you remember when we were almost expelled from the university?”

“Is there a way to forget those days?” you immediately took a look on Baekhyun. It was his fault, obviously. “We were shitting in our pants instead of the one who put us in that situation.”

“Come on,” Kyungsoo chuckled. “It was not only his fault, Indy, our hands were also crimson red.”

“Let me recall the memory, Doh,” you pinched his hand, he playfully pushed your fingers. “Excuse me if I am wrong, however that scumbag was the one who challenged you to confiscate the coin, because of your involvement into the incident, I had no choice but dragging your ass out of shit.”

“They caught two of us in the crime field.” Kyungsoo burst into laughs. “Professor Lee went ballistic and scolded us like we just killed a person cold heartedly.”

“And you could not see the reason behind it?” You were cutting Kyungsoo’s body with your eyes. “If someone tries to steal a coin from the excavation house during the session, I will kill them for sure. We were so lucky, the one who caught us was Professor Lee.”

“I heard you are strictest when it comes to excavation.” Kyungsoo assured you. “But try to not kill us.”

“The only one I am going to take down,” you shivered with the memory, Kyungsoo was already regretful to remind it to you. Well, maybe not so much because he wanted you and Baekhyun to realize the potential relationship you could have, and the easiest way in order to put you two in touch was making you angry. “That bastard if he will behave like the old days. We are not children anymore.”

“Have you ever been a kid?”

“Fuck off, Kyungsoo.”

“You did not change even a bit, Indy.” Kyungsoo made his statement. Obviously, you were going to keep this to yourself, taking his silent approval made you were more than happy. “You are still a pain in the ass.”

“And you are still a good boy.” you grinned, watching his lips formed around silent laughs. “Such a cute puppy for me, let me see your wagging tail.”

“I am sorry to interrupt your flirting session,” Kyungsoo turned to Baekhyun’s deadpanned face. “However, we have to move.”

“When you come across to a pretty girl,” Kyungsoo did not miss the chance of returning the favour. “You have to flirt with her. Wasn’t it your advice?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun looked at you, then turned to Kyungsoo.

You knew what was going to happen.

“He said pretty girls,” you tucked the words in Baekhyun’s mouth before he could open his fucking damn mouth. “To my dismay, I have never been pretty to correspond the standards of Byun Baekhyun the Magnificent. I am crying for the lack of beauty almost every night, I mean living without Byun Baekhyun’s interests… Such a misery.”

Kyungsoo bit his lower lip in order to hold his laugh, Baekhyun’s fists were clenching but you did not stop there.

"Ah I almost forget to ask for the name of that little village, Baekhyun.” you directly looked at his eyes since ages. “Where the girl you desperately wanted to bless with your attention left you? UN Village?”

You immediately spin on your tiptoes, then slipped towards to Sehun, leaving two of them behind of you, refusing to look at back. In the meantime, Baekhyun was throwing daggers to your back, grinding his teeth, his jaw was extremely tensed. Before Kyungsoo could stop him, he swiftly came to your side, you felt his breath on your neck.

You shivered.

You fucking shivered and Baekhyun noticed that.

“You are playing with the fire, as always.” he whispered to your ear before someone could notice what he was doing. “Did you forget who was burning with fire, baby girl?”

He quickly disappeared and started to make such a fuss in order to gather his team members around himself. You were frozen, after years, you were frozen, you missed the little smile on the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth.

You were on the verge of screaming because of the frustration you had felt. You forced yourself to proceed, walked into the plane, helped your team in order to set their belongings and place into their seats, then you retreated your own seat. It was comfortable and you could easily snatch a blanket. Your wish became true, even quicker than you expected because Sehun, your wonderful Sehun, already brought a soft blanket for you. You smiled at him, actually forgiving him for building bonds with Chanyeol since they changed their seats in order to sit next to each other and weaved your legs around the fabric.

Your brain was in autopilot, you were lost in the horrible memories. You did not want to recall them, you buried them into the cemetery of your memory. You wished nothing but never remember that day.

The day in that village.

Baekhyun was mad at himself.

His face was clouded, for the first time he was silent and sitting on the farthest seat in the plane. He really wanted to be alone, and since being vocal about his feeling was so natural for him, he told his need to the team. They willingly let him to do what he wanted, as a result, he was looking out of window, hell if a person could see something out of a plane’s window, and he was cursing himself.

He knew it was going to be a chess play. Between you and him.

It has been always like the chess.

There was a bond between you and Baekhyun, even thought you two always refused it, you also were aware of that bond. You equally hated each other and if there was a thing which could make you happier than seeing each other’s downfalls, that was the opportunity of being the one who digs the other’s grave by their hands.

He was sure on he was going to be the one who sets your body on fire, then finishes you. He was sure on he was going to be the victor, the one and only champion.

When he kills you, erases your name for all eternity, when he condemns you with demnatio memoriae, he will calmly breathe again.

You were a pain in the ass, even when you were not around of Baekhyun, you had a place in his mind since that fucking day he met you. Your presence was like a tree, how much he could try, he could neither find your roots in his mind nor cut them all.

You were his enemy; he was going to treat you as you deserved.

There would be no turning back.

But…

He was mad at himself.

He made a wrong move while he was trying to disturb you, shake your cage in order to give you a lesson.

He also remembered.

The day in that fucking village.