#but that sort of stuff would just end up being a bittersweet memory of what could’ve been huh? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewordswewrite · 2 years ago

Text

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 15 - His Future

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | Embarking on their honeymoon, Finnick and his girl bond without the pressures of the outside world.

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide, character death, SMUT 18+

W/C | 4.8k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog @mrsjna @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cecepop15 @pavard-leto-girl

A/N | The end!!!!! or not????? ;) Thank you everyone for keeping up with this story and being so committed to Finnick haha -Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

The sun had already long since set by the time they were nearing their destination and Finnick, while not seeming to necessarily be angry, had had very little to say on the ride thus far. It had undeniably been a bit awkward, from loading their stuff into the train car to sitting across from each other in silence. She got the feeling that he wanted to say something but didn’t know what and, unsurprisingly, she felt the same. There had been a lot of rethinking that had to be done on her part, backtracking through her memories to regret how she had acted when she was defending the truth she thought was reality. There was anger to be had both at Snow for painting an incongruous picture of Finnick and at herself for believing it.

Her plans for escape were abandoned now that she had finally accepted the consequences that would come from it. She had been naive, not understanding the full extent of the power that Snow held over them. Finnick’s life had been torn apart even after doing everything he could to appease the President. After all he had done for her, had saved her from, he at least deserved a fair shot at the life they were given. If there was any true testament to Finnick’s, her husband’s character, it would be the countless chances he had given her and the goodwill he held toward her even now. It had broken her heart to see the look on his face that morning when he thought she would leave him especially after having seen the glimmer of hope that their wedding had sparked within Finnick.

The silhouette of palm trees that had pervaded their view for the last hour or so slowed to a standstill which caused both of them to turn their heads, making eye contact that was averted immediately after. If it were any other time, she would make a comment about Finnick gathering both of their luggage, saying something along the lines of ‘I can take care of myself’ but she was ultimately just grateful that he was still an active participant in their lives, given she had experienced the opposite. There was a certain irrational fear that hung inside just being in the train where not only had so many things gone wrong between them, but where she had once traveled towards her imminent death. Now, stepping off the train with Finnick extending a hand to help her down, it was a bittersweet sort of realization that she held even a modicum of safety. The more she opened herself up to feeling for him though, the more she felt anxious about the status of their relationship that had thus far been turbulent.

Together they walked down a dark path, lit dimly by the moon and a sparse arrangement of streetlamps. Finnick was dutifully on alert, both of them being unfamiliar with where they were sent and given how things had been going lately with his interactions with Snow, she couldn’t blame him for thinking it all might be too good to be true.

“I guess this is it,” Finnick concluded as they stepped onto the porch of their seaside bungalow. They had seen similar housing on their way down the waterfront and while they had all been in good shape, they were very clearly uninhabited. “According to the pamphlet, this was some sort of resort back before the war…when people could afford that sort of thing,” Finnick had informed her.

“Moment of truth,” She sighed, slipping one of the keys out of the small package they had been given. Finnick held their bags, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as she fit the key into the lock. The knob turned with ease, opening into an unlit foyer which Finnick stepped into first with a ready stance. After a few moments, she followed him in, reaching blindly around the wall for a light switch.

Once the room was lit, the place felt a bit less unsettling and more like a genuine luxury. It was decorated tackily, the forced atmosphere of being both beachside and on vacation pervaded every corner. The style wasn’t quite the in-your-face staple of the Capitol, in fact on closer inspection, it was clear that the decor and the house itself predated whatever current stylistic era they were in and likely by decades.

“I guess it's just us, huh?” She bit her lip, struck by the awkwardness not only of the silence but her attempt to break it. “Looks like this place has been abandoned, up until now…I guess.”

“Yep. Lucky us.”

Finnick surveyed the rest of the rooms, sparing scrutiny from no corner of the place. By now, neither of them were strangers to Snow’s invasiveness and it was hard to believe that he would draw the line for the sake of a vacation. When the house was cleared, Finnick immediately took to the master bedroom, only bothering to unpack whatever he needed for the night. She sat on the edge of the king sized bed, kicking her feet idly as he brushed his teeth.

“Do you want to go see the rest of the resort?” She called out to him, grasping for straws. It was hard to tell exactly where they stood, if he was angry or sad or just fine, any mixture of those things. There were plenty of things on a long list that they had to be concerned about, that had gone wrong for them lately and any of them could be troubling him.

There was another moment before he stepped out of the bathroom.

“No,” Finnick simply stated, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just go to bed too then.” She felt like a child in his presence, trying too hard to please him. A couple weeks ago she couldn’t have cared less about what Finnick Odair thought of her or anything else but now he was a constant in her mind. As he started to get into bed, she gathered up a spare blanket and a pillow from the opposite side.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just–” She gestured loosely to the doorway. They’d shared a bed for many nights before but given their conversation the previous night, she didn’t want to assume that she was welcome, even if it had seemed like they had made up. She would miss the feeling of safety that he provided and her sleep would likely suffer but it was better safe than sorry.

Before she made it to the door, Finnick spoke, “Stop. I’m too tired to do this right now. Come to bed.” She turned to him, the circles under his eyes deeply shadowed as he sat up, lifting up the opposite corner of the covers.

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Come to bed,” Finnick repeated and though he said it tenderly, he left no room for discussion. She followed the order and climbed onto her side, replacing the pillow and blanket until everything was as it should be.

“Goodnight, Finnick.”

“Goodnight.”

・・・Ψ・・・

She awoke to the rays of the early morning sun peaking through the windows, her limbs stretching out into the unoccupied space around her. At some point during the night, she had managed to travel from the leftmost side of the bed to the center of it with no sign of Finnick left save for the indentation of his body in the mattress. Upon reaching out to his side of the bed, it was clear from the lack of leftover body heat that he had not been there for a while. Her first instinct traveled towards fear but she knew that Finnick knew better–knew better than her–to try anything.

She slid her feet down to the floor, stretching her arms overhead as she made her way to the kitchen. A plate of food, wrapped delicately so as not to spoil, greeted her as she entered. She slipped it all back into the oven and set the timer, idly sitting on the granite countertop as she waited. Other than her breakfast, there was no sign of Finnick in the house and as the oven timer slowly ticked away, she was getting more and more anxious to locate him.

Throwing on a more respectable pair of shorts and her sandals, she made her way to the previously uncharted back porch. The sliding glass door gave way to a breathtaking view, the sun hanging just above the horizon as waves rolled onto a silvery shore. It was similar to the beaches of their district but it held such a pristine condition that it was like looking at a painting. Indeed, it was practically uncanny the way the horizon line was uncut by fishing boats or city skylines. There was all but a single silhouette that disrupted or maybe added to the picture: Finnick out on the shoreline, casting his fishing rod out to sea.

“You’re up early,” She called out to him, making her way down the beach. The corner of his lips upturned as she reached his side but his eyes stayed trained on the water.

“Had to be,” Finnick replied, “I was losing space by the minute. You sleep like you belong in one of these tidepools.”

"Excuse me?" She laughed incredulously, kicking a splash of water at him.

Finnick ducked out of the way, the fishing line shifting with him as he explained, "like a Starfish.” She shook her head before burying her face in her hands, still laughing. “I thought maybe with the bigger bed we’d be past this but–” He was unable to finish as he received a well-deserved but playful smack on the arm.

There were a few moments where the only sounds surrounding them were the lap of the waves on the shore and a cluster of seabirds out to catch their next meal. She watched as Finnick started to reel in the line and scoffed.

“What?” He countered.

“You have no patience,” She smirked, pushing him just for the fun of it.

“Listen, I’m fishing for your lunch and if you don’t want to starve, I have to recast,” Finnick huffed in response. She spared him another word, choosing instead to raise her eyebrows in a knowing glance. Watching him in action however, it was nearly impossible not to comment.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” She knew she could just let it go for his technique wasn’t that offensive but the childish scowl that already sat on his face was too good to resist.

“That cast!”

“What was wrong with my cast?” The way he naturally stood taller at the accusation was hard not to laugh at but she needed to keep a more serious tone if she really wanted to tease.

“What wasn’t wrong with it?” She scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Rich boy forgot he’s from District 4.” Finnick glared at her a moment before reeling in his line, grumbling to himself all the while.

As he steadied the line in his head he added, “You know, I was having a nice time before you got here.”

She shoved him lightly as she pursed her lips,“Ha, ha, you know you like it better when I’m around.”

Finnick hummed, clearly fighting a grin.

“Here,” She circled around Finnick, her arms ghosting over his own for a moment of hesitation before she took hold of them. Her arms barely fit around Finnick’s torso but she made do, practically bear-hugging him from behind.

“I think I know how to-”

She cut him off with a shush and, in a single practiced movement, threw their arms out in an arch, a perfect cast hitting the water just beyond the waves. “That’s how it’s done.”

They sat there together waiting to go in until they had a sizable catch to show for their efforts as they continued to do morning after morning, though with two rods rather than one. It was like that for a good part of their trip: finding a routine and sticking to it. It was easy enough to fall into friendly conversation knowing where they would be when and what they were going to do. What tensions there had been between them gradually faded away as they distanced themselves from all they had been through in less than a year. It was nearly impossible to fathom how she was spending her days lazing around the beach when she had already received what she thought would be her death sentence.

Besides fishing, they spent a lot of their days reading from the small collection of books they could find around the house or rather she spent a lot of time reading, after Finnick fell asleep following the first couple chapters she would read aloud. As the heat died off in the evening, they would share dinners before heading out to the beach to take a swim. Neither of them had suffered their usual nightmares as they were too sundrunk to do more than pass out as they hit the bed each night.

・・・Ψ・・・

One night a storm passed through, nothing that would cause them to have to worry about the house but still strong enough to disturb the waves, thunder rumbling through the darkness. They were in bed early and, having spent a majority of the day inside, Finnick was especially restless as he laid listening to the sound of rainfall. He had his back turned to his girl knowing that if she knew he was awake, she would stay up no matter how tired she was just for his sake. It seemed this made little difference as he could hear her tossing and turning behind him. They’d been laying there for what he’d guess to be about an hour when she spoke.

“Finnick,” She whispered, “Finnick, are you still up?”

He rubbed his eyes quickly before rolling over, “Yeah, what is it?” In the dim light it was hard to distinguish her expression but there was clearly some sort of hesitance and Finnick wondered if she already regretted grabbing his attention. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just,” She paused briefly, catching her breath, “I was just thinking and I realized…well, I never really thanked you for everything you did for me.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, I-, I do.” There was another moment before she seemed to make up her mind and leaned forward, running tentative fingers along the curve of his cheek, “Thank you for everything, for taking care of me.” Finnick was grateful for the darkness for he couldn’t have stood to let her seem him blush. It was unusual for him, given all that he had experienced, and it was a very tame gesture after all.

“I just hope you know that, when it’s all said and done, I tried my best…for you…for both of us,” He sighed, wishing he had the words to express what he felt, to make up for all the harsh ones he had used in anger.

“I know,” She affirmed, “It couldn’t have been easy…what you went through.”

“I never meant to choose for you, to take away your freedom. All I wanted was to keep you from what I had to do, had to be. I would’ve done anything to keep you from that. This–” Finnick gestured vaguely between them, “this was Snow’s way.”

“I know,” She echoed with a sad smile. There was silence once more and Finnick felt vulnerable laying face to face with her like an open wound ready to be cut deeper. “What was it like?” She asked after a moment. His stomach dropped.

“What?” Finnick knew what she was referring to but she wanted to hear her say it again, to make sure he had really heard her. Never had anyone asked him how he felt about what Snow made him do because those who knew didn’t care about him and those who cared about him didn’t know. He could never bring himself to tell his mother what he had been put up to for he couldn’t stand to tarnish the image she held of her son.

“What Snow had you do, I mean, I can’t even imagine.”

Finnick hesitated, words echoing through his mind. Dirty, filthy, disgusting. He could stop the conversation there, say he was tired and turn over to go back to pretending to sleep, preserving his dignity. But the way she looked at him so earnestly, like she was prepared to hear whatever he had to say, what had for so long gone unknown by anybody but him, he was left with no choice. So, he told her everything, every thought that crossed his mind as he thought back on years of his life that he had tried his very best to forget. He told her about the money, the gifts, the secrets. He told her about the shame and the pain both physical and emotional. While it was terrifying, it was equally liberating, every word another weight off his shoulders and, above all, the way she looked at him never changed.

When he was finished, she told him about herself, about her childhood growing up in the orphanage after losing her mother, about how she had felt in the games. All together it was like meeting someone brand new even though they had been by each others’ sides for months. Problem after problem after problem kept them from really ever getting to know each other and while Finnick regretted not doing it sooner, he felt privileged to get to know her at all

“My mother never would’ve let me get away with that,” Finnick laughed, sitting propped up against the headboard as she told a story about a rogue boating incident.

“It’s easy when you don’t have one looking after you,” She laughed but her eyes quickly widened and shone with regret. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”

Finnick shook his head, though the memory of what had happened left a gaping hole in his chest, “It’s fine, I…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. His mind raced with the memories, “I guess I just feel like it was my fault. If I would’ve just listened-” Finnick’s throat was closing up as he tried to blink away tears.

“No, Finnick,” She grabbed the sides of his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “It could never be your fault. It was Snow who did that, Snow who forced us to do what we’ve done.” He could do nothing but nod, his voice swallowed by sobs he was struggling to contain. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Finnick was doing all he could to ground himself, holding onto her arms as if it was all that was tethering him to the earth. “I did it for you. The flint.”

“What?”

“I slept with a client without Snow’s permission to get you the sponsor. Its my fault she’s dead but I couldn’t let you die, I did everything I could-”

She hushed him and pulled him into a hug, running her fingers through his hair. He could feel her heartbeat racing, short bursts of breath exiting her lungs as she grappled with what he’d told her.

She pulled away, looking him in the eyes. “Why, Finnick? Why would you do that?” She was crying in earnest now too.

As he stared at his girl, he realized that she was all he had left, Mags growing sicker by the year and his family dead at Snow’s hands, she was his future. The moment of clarity knocked all breath from his lungs and he could do nothing but stare at the woman who sat across from him, holding his cracked heart together with nothing but her gentle hands.

“Finnick,” She cried for him, “Say something please I-”

“I love you.” The words rushed out, almost drowned out by the noise of thunder and rain from outside, but he knew she heard them. He saw the way her face shifted, from shock, to confusion until finally melting into something he could only categorize as affection. His wife let out a watery gasp and surged forward, her lips meeting his own, the salt on their faces mingling as they allowed themselves to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

Her face wasn’t like that of his clients back in the Capitol when she said it, covered in lust and repeating those three words over and over to get him to do as they wanted. No, her face was an open book, every emotion laid bare to him in that moment, despair, sincerity, love. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known, and he loved her.

Slow and hesitant he leaned back in, meeting her lips with his own, waiting for her to return the kiss. Finnick’s hands slid around her waist then, as she kissed him back in confidence, her own hands sliding their way along his back. As the storm raged on outside, their gasps were mute to the world, hands and ragged breathes no one’s but their own. At nineteen, Finnick had gotten used to the meaninglessness of sex but now, laying here in the dark with his wife, he felt a fire ignite within him.

WIth ease, Finnick laid her onto her back, straddling her as they kissed, only breaking apart to breathe. He trailed kisses down her neck, biting and sucking his way down, drawing soft mewls from her lips as he went. Her fingers were gripping his hair, flexing every time he moved to a new spot. He went to pull off his shirt when she stopped him.

“Finnick, Finnick wait…stop.” As soon as he heard the word he halted all his actions.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I-”

“No listen,” She looked up at him, concern drawing her eyebrows together. “Are you sure you want this?” She was looking anywhere but his face as she asked. “This isn’t about what Snow said is it?”

“No, no,” He assured, trying to get her to look at him. “I want this, I want you.” He smiled down at her.

She returned his smile with her own. “Good. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to ever again.”

His concern melted away and he felt his chest warm. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Finnick couldn’t stop himself from grinning if he tried, instead opting to take off his shirt, his girl’s eyes taking him in as he did. Since they’d been ready for bed, there had been few clothes to remove before they were bare before one another, and Finnick drank in the sight.

“You’re beautiful.” Finnick kissed his way from her neck to the insides of her thighs, stopping to pepper in compliments along the way.

Finnick held himself in his hand, lining his way up with her entrance and slowly he pressed in, savoring the feeling as they moaned in harmony. It wasn’t long until he was fully sheathed inside and panting in her ear. Her nails scratched his back as he began to move in time with their breaths, slowly picking up speed as he went.

He wanted this, the woman he loved beneath him with no expectations from the outside world involved. His hands grasped for anything he could find, each and every soft surface of her. Finnick rolled his hips, following the pleasure she was squeezing out of him. He brought his hand down between them, his fingers looking for her clit in order to help her along and when his fingers finally met their target she moaned.

“Yes, Finnick!” She cried and clung to his neck.

Spurred on by her words Finnick sped up both his fingers and thrusts, the noise of it all echoing through the room. Their tongues swirled together as they kissed, swallowing the words each of them babbled as they came closer and closer to their undoing. It was only a few more seconds before she was screaming his name, Finnick following close after. It took all his strength not to collapse atop of her in exhaustion and instead rolled off of her.

With his remaining consciousness, Finnick pulled his girl to his side, tucking her to his body and using his hand to massage up and down her back. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder in response, using her own fingers to glide trails down his chest until her breath evened out.

Yeah, Finnick thought, I love her.

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick laid on the front porch, soaking in the last rays of the sun as it set, the ocean cool breeze lulling him into a gentle doze. His eyes were nearly shut when the scrappy mutt who had finally followed him home from one of his morning runs, hopped onto his chest covering him with sand as he licked the sweat from his face.

It had been a couple weeks since they had returned home from their honeymoon, the first part having been spent doing president-mandated interviews about the experience. While they kept most of the details to themselves, it was far easier to play up the happily married couple act now that it wasn’t so much of an act at all. When they were fully off the hook, they began their next project: making their house a home.

They had repainted the walls of every room from dull sleek grays and beiges to vibrant cool colors. It was a shared effort that took longer than it might take one person as more paint typically ended up on their person than on the walls but the whole ordeal ended with laughs and a kiss. They went out to the market looking for handmade decor or second hand pieces to fix up and bring home. As a surprise, his girl even commissioned a local artist to make a portrait of his mother from an old photo she had found. While there was still more to be done, their house already looked less like a museum exhibit and more like an inhabited residence.

Finnick was suddenly jolted from his daze as his name was called from inside the house, the dog running into the house at the noise. He cursed to himself as he stepped inside wishing he’d had a chance to wipe down the mutt before it tracked sand in the house.

“Finnick!” His wife called again with more urgency. He picked up his pace, rushing into their bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. Finnick crouched on his knees by her side, gently tugging her arms from her face.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I’m-” a sob broke through her lips again, “pregnant.” His stomach dropped at her words and he knew that if he wasn’t already on his knees, they would’ve buckled. There were a million thoughts immediately surging through his mind but the one most prevalent was the importance of comforting his wife.

“That-, that’s-”

“Finnick, I can’t raise a family in a world like this,” She cried. He silently agreed but there was no point in making her feel worse than he knew she was already feeling.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Finnick took her face in his hands, trying to keep his breath steady in a way that she could mirror. “It’ll be okay, I’m here for you.” She grasped his wrists tightly, shaking her head.

“I won’t see them go into the games. Finnick,” Her fear and exasperation steeled to determination as she met his gaze unflinchingly, “I won’t.”

“That might never happen–”

“You know it’s rigged and with not one but two victors as parents…” She broke down into another sob, slinking out of his grip to cover her eyes again. Finnick searched for something, anything that would not only be worth saying but would hold some semblance of truth, of actual hope. He rose to her level, sitting beside her on the bed and took a long sigh praying to whatever higher power there might be that this conversation would remain private.

“I’ve heard…talk amongst the districts, the other victors.”

She lifted her head, her arms slowly coming down to her sides and Finnick took one of her hands in his own as he looked at that connection rather than in her eyes. He had heard things from other victors as they made their rounds in the Capitol just like him. At first, he wrote it off as the same propaganda that anyone who suffered the Games would’ve been willing to believe. That was until it became so common, it couldn’t be ignored and legitimate plans of action were beginning to spread. It was nothing he could guarantee to her and if anyone found out that he had told her, they would both likely be killed but if he could ensure even a glimmer of hope for their future he would do it.

“Something called…the mockingjay.”

335 notes · View notes

the--highlanders · 2 years ago

Note

good luck with moving! heres a question for you. 2 actually. firstly tardis team 2 movie night whos choosing what? secondly do you think polly/ben and victoria and zoe would get on? (btw your fics are insane. ben jamie freindship my beloved)

ahhh thank you so much!! ben jamie friendship my beloved also, I really really need to write something longer about them. also relisten to the selachian gambit because it's so good for ben-jamie brotp content

I'm SO sorry this has taken so long also!! but I have been thinking very hard about what their movie picks will be. ngl I don't think I'm enough of a movie person to like, pick specific movies but I've been thinking about Vibes

jamie is just like, impressed by movies in general, especially in s4. so he'll go for basically anything that the rest of the gang put on. especially since a modern/futuristic real-world setting is likely to be just as unfamiliar to him as scifi/fantasy setting! he probably doesn't always distinguish them super clearly because some of the scifi stuff is closer to his actual experiences ghfdkj. I feel like he'd quite like comedies/more light-hearted stuff though? & some action stuff/jumpscare-y horror is just a no-go because he's not super used to non-live media making noises on its own, and sudden loud noises/being suddenly scared doesn't always play nice with his trauma. he'd just rather avoid it. also I feel like he'd really like documentaries!! he's super curious about everything and it's a nice way for him to absorb information through auditory processing which he's good with/used to and without the issue of learning to read. sometimes he'll disappear for a bit and the others will end up finding him curled up on a sofa watching a documentary on the most random stuff

two also has super eclectic taste but in a more out there/esoteric way. he claims he just has super refined taste when the others won't watch some artsy 12-hour martian epic with him (and then falls asleep or wanders off like, half an hour in because he doesn't actually have that sort of ability to sit still). he will put on the weirdest alien stuff that's totally incomprehensible to everyone else though. but he's also into like, silent comedies. he's such a chaplin-esque character, how could he not be (though he denies any similarity to himself!). and he's more into fantasy than hard scifi - it's impossible to watch any sort of serious scifi with him unless you want to hear a constant commentary on the inaccuracies in it. (by series 6 jamie has picked up on this habit, albeit with his much more limited knowledge. zoe finds this super disconcerting).

ben is absolutely the instigator of two and jamie's comedy enjoyment. he's Also a silent comedy guy. but I think he'd like action/adventure films as well? he's got like, a whole host of them that he really loves and is always trying to get the others to watch. I feel like he's the biggest movie watcher of the tardis team honestly, like going to the cinema was something he did a fair bit pre-canon? maybe it's something he did with his father while he was still alive, so he has fond but kind of bittersweet memories of it. & tbh I feel like being interested in the heroes as well as the love interests was part of his bi awakening. so he'd be the one pushing for the movie nights to happen, and maybe also more inclined to pick out alien/futuristic stuff than polly is, because he wants to see what else is out there.

polly is probably the one who comes the closest to appreciating two's more esoteric movie picks?? like they're not necessarily her favourite thing but she'll sit down and watch them with him. it's bonding time for them. they paint each other's nails and hang out. I think she'd also like kinda film noir/darker stuff. juuust enough that two and jamie like to tease ben about how many films she watches where the wife kills her husband. (ben takes it in pretty good humour. he's a wife guy like that he would support polly for this). also she's a bad romcom watcher in the sense that she likes to yell at the screen about all the dumb decisions the characters make, why the main couple wouldn't work out, that sort of thing. it's stress relief for her. she gets the others into it and the four of them sit there shouting like they're watching a sports game

#replies #anonymous #this got kinda long hjkfd #anyway!! will be flying tomorrow night so #tis all happening

11 notes · View notes

amyisherenowitsokay · 2 years ago

Note

claps hands together. hi hope you've been well, sorry i haven't asked much. buuuut. I forgot you wrote a thing until lately. :}

War On Love. How would it have continued/ended, what plot beats where there supposed to be if you remember any, etc?

also this'll sound weird, mainly because I can't really explain it and I'm still working thru it, but I wanted to say thanks for writing it? Finding it again and reading through it reminded me of things I had forgotten about myself for a while. Which has really helped from then to now. So, yeah, as silly as it sounds, thank you. :}

Lmao you're never obligated to interact with me homie, dw. Feel free to send me whatever when you're vibing, but don't also feel pressured to engage. You're too kind.

Long answer under the cut

I go back and forth on whether I'll ever update WoL. It just has so many bad connotations and memories for me about the headspace I was in while writing it, and where I was at emotionally, etc. On the other hand, I'm also incredibly proud of some of the insights I wrote about Gaz's perspective, and the overall plot twists and where it was going. I also still have a TON of writing for it still in bits and pieces, both important chunks and unimportant, AND like 4 chapters of the sequel written.

Sometimes I'm like, well, I could sort of finish it in the same style that like That Thing on Your Wrist and What We Become, which are more written in sort of continuous blurbs with gentle transitions and takes occasions to focus on really important scenes. I think with what I have written, it'd be feasible, but that'd also mean taking time away from my more important projects like Dead Weight and Re:MHNY2, so I hesitate to really commit to anything. You are not the first person to ask though, so that may be something I end up doing in the long term. A quick add up of the chunks of the story I have written says I have roughly 53k words of unpublished story for WoL. On the one hand, a shame to go to waste, on the other hand, I'm not really sure how I'd feel emotionally about trying to dig it back. Like I said, I go back and forth. Just for bonus trivia, since I gave the unpublished word count for WoL, it's sequel, which had a pending title of War on Finality, has 25k words written, and about a 2k words worth of ideas that I wrote, but wasn't sold on including.

I super appreciate btw your note about "things I had forgotten about myself for awhile." That really resonated with me. WoL has is a bittersweet for me because while it was my attempt to push through the gross stuff happening during that time period that I hadn't processed yet, I'm still also really proud of the messages I was going to include, some of the plot points I'd come up with, plot parallels, the OC's character development and direction, and how incredibly different it was going to be from anything I'd written at that point. I think it'd probably have ended up being one of my most emotive fics, and definitely with the (initial) darkest ending.

That being said, the plot of WoL definitely is it's own whole ass post, so apologies for not being able to answer immediately, but I genuinely think I'd break the character limit of tumblr if I tried to go into it all here lmao. Also, since it comes up sometimes from other dm's I've gotten, I think the better idea for me to do is make a masterpost about WoL and where it was going, include some screenshot blurbs for context, etc. That might take a few days, but when that posts, I'll reblog this with the link to the masterpost.

#amyisherenowansweringyou #war on love #ravenfollower13 #WoL #to be continued #tldr for skimmers is I'm gonna make a masterpost for War on Love for people who were just curious to see how it was gonna end #will reblog this when it's up #zim #fanfiction #invader zim #gaz #zagr #iz

7 notes · View notes

zerohallows · 1 year ago

Text

Quiet Places || Zero

Synopsis: Not the usual ghost story.

Zero meets someone among the gravestones.

Sometimes what we want, truly, is to be haunted.

CW: ghosts, mentions of death and mourning practices, child ghosts, reference to animal death, insects

He wasn't, contrary to what people who didn't know him very well assumed, automatically drawn to hollow places, to resting spots, little corners hidden away where people went to, hopefully, not be misplaced.

He'd always mindfully sought them out rather than only being pulled along.

And of all of the places that he had learned people built their monuments and wrapped up their loss in flowers and silent moments, graveyards felt very much like the rest. Special, but only equally as much as the other ceremonies, practices and places the living found comfort over the dead.

Different forms of course, he had learned; there had been months where he had spent hours and hours tucked away in libraries, searching through pages about all the sorts of different ways that people mourned.

Not because he felt he needed to cultivate some familiar kinship with death, truth be told he'd felt more frustration with it in those days than anything else, but because he had a friend, once.

Illness had declared that the world, and himself, wouldn't be allowed to keep her very long. And it was unfathomable to leave her trying to make decisions that seemed incredibly cruel at sixteen, because there was no one else who would help make them for her. Immortality was not, he discovered, the right of youth, even though he still sometimes felt it should have been.

So Zero had learned a great deal about mourning before even experiencing his own for the first time, as an overwhelming effort to help her feel just a little bit better about the things after, the things left behind.

Although searching for a way to convince your best friend the ideas that fell to funerals and ceremonies would somehow be the sort of close to a chapter she wasn't finished writing for herself was awfully hard at sixteen yourself.

So he visited places, still, because he couldn't visit the one where Cece rested anymore since she didn't rest anywhere. She had wanted to be free, wanted to be part of everything, and thankfully humans had customs for that as well and he supposed, even if the notion was for his own comfort, her ashes were still out somewhere chasing sunsets in new places life had never granted her time to see.

It's where fairies go, he'd told her once, to everything, in the end. She wanted the same, to meet again, although he's still not sure if he told some lie, even a kind one, in agreeing perhaps they would.

He doesn't know, really, if humans are made of the sort of stuff that allows for it.

But he hoped then, still did.

It wasn't why he had come to the graveyard that evening though, he'd come because the month was special to him and nearly spent, he liked the quiet, he liked the names on stones he would never know them stories of.

Zero liked feeling connected to what was, sometimes more than he wanted to know what lay ahead. He coveted the somber stone crumbling with time and the mossy burst of life that carpeted them in a silent cry of victory.

Zero found a certain lovely awe in that, a bittersweet poetry.

A wordless shout, the most patient cry he liked to think he could hear, without hearing; I rest here but look, just look at how life grows from my very memory.

See how important my place in this world is while from my very self the leaves curl and the grasses grow and I, truly, am eternal.

If he could only ever learn once he wanted to learn enough.

If being everything is where it ends I would like, he'd thought often, to be just myself for now and look at those names as who they once were too.

Zero rarely felt alone, even drifting amid the stones, the bending branches above and the ground below that he could feel in the core of his being alive with the toss and turn of change in endless motion.

But he was surprised not to have been truly alone that evening as he wandered the graveyard, watching the creeping growth of vines and greenery merge with the headstones, and a flicker of motion among them as his fingertips brushed a few headstones in passing.

It was quite small, no more than a dart, a notion, something barely out of the corner of his eye because for all his connection to the way the world fell apart in time Zero couldn't see human ghosts. At least not the ones who didn't want to make themselves seen.

It that hardly mattered, didn't keep him from pausing and trying to decipher what he finally made out to be the faintest outline of a child standing watchful, as he guessed she may have stood for far longer than any restless soul should have.

"Hello," he had called out carefully, satisfied that the hint of a person didn't suddenly flicker away. Perhaps she, he wasn't certain why the sense of it was there when he could not see her but he felt it clearly enough, was lonely, or curious. He didn't always understand how he knew the things he knew.

Which led him to a comfortable spot to sink down to the welcoming earth where he felt the twisting, curling, timeless growth and fade of infinite tiny lives most never knew of; scurrying, tunneling insects and burrowing creatures who lived and then did not, giving birth to the soil that held tight the roots of the giant above them with its branches turned skyward. He always felt it, always welcomed it, a familiar comfort as he studied the evening's dying light for another glimpse.

Zero continued speaking as though she could answer, knowing she could not.

"I can't see you," and his tone was laced with a bit of regret over that, "but I know you're there. And if you don't mind me staying for a while I was going to spend some time here too."

The breeze was all that met his words but he thought, perhaps, he heard a tiny giggle hidden away in it.

And that was how it had gone, every few nights he returned, because he always felt a bit nostalgic in October and the small motions that gradually became echoing little footsteps and playful rolling of his pencils just out of reach while he drew reminded him of something he couldn't quite place but enjoyed immensely.

"You want to see?" He'd asked once, looking up from the sketchbook in his lap as a tiny twinge of cool air graced his arm and just at the very corner of his eye a figure hinted that someone was there.

She might have been peering over his shoulder, but he knew if he turned his gaze to her she'd disappear into that not quite a place where human ghosts lingered.

The edges of the paper fluttered up, he had come to understand was a gesture of her approval over his work. The image of one of the older gravestones and the flowers that had begun to grow up through the cracks and worn places to decorate its surface in a flourish lay scrawled in sketchy lines there; another marker the peaceful place held.

He wished he knew where she had been meant to rest, where she came from, where she was going.

But he didn't know those things. He didn't know who had remembered her, or if any were left to do so.

That was the only troubling part of mortality to Zero; in its fragile cradle it held so much memory.

He had always entertained a very certain opinion on that, a mantra of let me outlive all those I know.

Not because he was afraid of his own end.

Let me outlast them so I'm not the sadness they feel one day.

No goodbye, no matter how long or how short a time it took to arrive, ever felt as if it came exactly on time and always showed up too swiftly.

"My birthday is very soon," he had mentioned as much before during those one-sided conversations, each time he did the grass stirred and he saw the shift and sway of that almost-shadow of a very small person.

"I'm sorry I don't know when yours is, but you can share mine. I have a present to bring you next time I visit."

The rustle and sway of grass caught his attention, a quiet laugh reaching his lips with it and the excitement he could tell marked the flurry of unseen motion around him.

Children were children, after all, no matter what world they were a part of.

It was a few days more before he returned, the chill in the night air pleasant and his footsteps nearly soundless on the stones, knowing she would find him far sooner than he might have her. With the bending of tall grasses and a gentle sound that might have been a sing-song whisper.

Ghosts did not often forget things, he supposed.

The month had dipped late, drawing closer and closer to its end and that lovely, magical time when the restless souls could reach just a little further into the places they had once dwelt. Zero enjoyed it, the graveyards were inviting when he could feel that subtle hint of energy in the air.

He waited for the impatient little brush of cool air past himself, the stir of echo excitement that blurred around him.

What was it like to have a birthday again after having others forgotten? He wondered, he hoped it hadn't been too many. He wished there was a stone she could have led him to among the others, but she never had. She didn't seem to know herself, if he had to guess by the way the wind wove restlessly through the stones each evening.

So he made due with what he could.

"I promised you a present, didn't I?" He uttered, unclasping his bag to reach into it and remove an unassuming object, small enough to tuck into the palm of his hand as he made his way over to the place he often sat in the nestled spot at the base of the weathered old tree that stood guard over soft, lost souls.

Zero could not see human ghosts, but that didn't mean he was fully detached from the spectral side of things. The ghosts he saw were the lingering presence of other creatures, those bound to places by their remains, far too easily forgotten, too often cut short and unwilling to move on simply because they thought it made no difference if they carried on in flesh and blood or wisps of awareness.

He had a resounding sympathy for them, the Geist, the creatures who flew or crawled or roamed wild places and existed as nature did without connection anymore to the physical; the misplaced animal souls. Because he certainly couldn't imagine what had ever led people to believe that just because they lacked human souls meant any other being had no soul at all.

Fairies did not have human souls either, but he'd always assumed that a soul was only the tie one had to how they reached whatever lay next.

It didn't trouble him.

The breeze drifted, somewhere the not-being and the gray between a little girl lost watched him reach just high enough to work the fragment of bone into the trunk, his fingers urging a crack wider, then soothing it over again with a faint scar in heavy bark.

Watched the firefly flicker of what Zero could see for himself as that anchor settled itself.

The same way many others had when he'd come across them in lonely places they had met unfair or ends they didn't understand; he always searched for better places, more welcoming spots. An empty road was no place to spend your time, especially after the end; he knew this was better.

The curl of motion, thin as a breath of air on a foggy day, stretched and uncoiled itself, a tumble of silvery-gray light fashioned back into four legs and what once might have been the softest fur, when it had been something a person might be able to touch to tell. A pouncing roll and a swat at swaying grasses that dipped in play; but he only saw one side of the game, he could only see the kitten as it delighted in having a playmate again.

Nobody liked to be alone or forgotten.

"I'll still come to visit," he reassured before stepping back to sit on an upturned stone large enough to make a fitful perch. "But I can't always be here, and you both need some company."

He would be back many times, he supposed until the day she found one reason or another to move on, or his time ended; whichever happened to come first.

"Oh, there you are," he added softly, a sort of subtle and pleased reverence at being granted it when, for an instant, there in the overcast evening light from a lethargic moon above he saw a shimmer of a form. A small girl adorned with ribbons in her hair, teddy bear in hand and eyes wide upon him before she flickered away, a spectral kitten weaving against her leg with a soundless purr that made its faint light from within pulse brighter.

He might have missed if he had blinked, was glad he hadn't, although even if he had he would have smiled regardless.

Zero turned to retrieve his sketchbook, to rest his shoulders against the towering trunk of an ancient tree, and let the pencil scratch across the paper in make-believe images of a little girl he couldn't see with her new friend playing among the headstones on a particularly crisp October night.

And the wind still whispered as it filled the space but sounded, to him, a little more like laughter.

#zero inspo #para #swynlake task #mentions: cece #cw death #cw ghosts #cw child ghosts #cw: insects #featuring: the little girl #swynlake ghosts #tbh I really need to just have more paras with Zero hanging out with the local ghosts

2 notes · View notes

your13threasonwhy · 1 year ago

Text

holy shit im so mad.

!!!SPOILERS FOR SEE YOU IN MY 19TH LIFE KDRAMA AND WEBTOON!!!

(disclaimer-sorry if any of the characters names are spelt wrong or need a hyphen, i get things confused between the kdrama and webtoon)

i read the webtoon way before the kdrama came out and i am still, to this day, so emotionally attached to it like, its one of the most amazing things ive read and i still cry when i think about it too much.

so, imagine my excitement when i find out its getting a kdrama and my absolute dissapointment when i find out that they changed literally everything (this is an exaragation) that made the webtoon so amazing.

when the show came out i was basically begging my sister to watch it with me (since she hasnt read the webtoon) and we are currently seven episodes in because we had to go on holidays however, we will continue watching it (even though i spent a good hour and a half contemplating whether or not i would actually be able to watch it without combusting after i read what they changed) until the end.

so, like the the overly anxious person i am, i searched up the ending just to make sure they hadnt changed anything else apart from min-gi's character and adding han-na (who we will discuss later) and proceeded to rip my hair out after reading that they made the female lead LOSE ALL OF HER MEMORIES ABOUT EVERYONE SHE LOVED.

but before we get into that i want to talk about the things they actually did well, for example, the cinematography, casting and scenery were actually so amazing and its definitely so much better than the webtoon (however the webtoon does still have a special place in my heart) and i think possibly the only good plot change they did was make han-na the reincarnation of seo-ha's mother. as someone who despises sad/bittersweet stuff i love that they made his mother reincarnate and keep her memories even if he doesnt meet her (which i dont know if he does because im only on episode seven) because its so sweet to think that she got a chance to see her son all (sort of) happy and grown up. i also love the fact that they added more depth to her past lives and showed up more scenes of them as, in the webtoon, im pretty sure the only things we got that related to her past lives were- her and min-gi's friendship, her and doyun's 'relationship' in her first life and her being ae-kyung's uncle.

now, onto the things im sad they didnt keep in but that i could deal with, which is mostly min-gi's character as a whole and the convinience store scene with ji-eum and min-gi where they recognise each other from their past lives (which im assuming they dont do since they changed his whole character). apparently, in the kdrama, min-gi and ji-eum used to be rivals/enemies in their past life or whatever so he decides to like hunt her down and basically stalk her😭😭 and then proceed to tell her that she needs to stop speaking and being around people from her past life because it hurts them (something i will talk-type?-about in a bit).

the reason why im so mad at this is because they straight just basically made him antagonistic instead of HAVING HIM AND JI-EUM BE FRIENDS IN THEIR PAST LIVES AND HAVING HIM SAY THEIR LITTLE SECRET MESSAGE AND HER BEING LIKE 'omg someone actually remembers their past life other than me?' AND THEN HIM JUST TRYING TO HELP HER NOT REMEMBER HER PAST LIVES ANYMORE BUT BEING A LITTLE BIT MISGUIDED BUT THEN THEIR STILL FRIENDS AND THEY TALK ABOUT IT 😖😖😖. like, they just ruined his character potential so much my changing that and adding the stupid motherfucking thing about how interacting with people from your past lifes hurts them.

finally, the things i hate, buckle up folks because this is going to be as long as my dick/j. first of all, the ending and THE STUPID 'YOU CANT INTERACT WITH YOUR PAST LIVES' BULLSHIT. i think the ending and the knowing about past lives hurts people is just absolute boiling garbage because 1-it just doesnt make sense 2-it doesnt make ANY fucking sense and 3-why the fuck does she need to forget but the people from her past lives dont forget who she was as ji-eum and as her past lives??? like i would rather they all forget but they're still happy and her and seo-ha are still dating/married and they're all still close but whatever. second, the whole fucking plot change like they apparently made this whole thing that made ji-eum think seo-ha murdered her sister for some fucking angst instead of the perfectly reasonable (and just as dramatic) thing with doyun where she thinks they were married so she distances herself from seo-ha but it turns out they were sisters and her and seo-ha still get to be happy AND THE WHOLE THING ABOUT THE DEAL WITH GOD (which also relates to the ending) BECAUSE IN THE END SHE ASKS GOD TO MAKE HER STOP REMEMBERING HER PAST LIVES AND SHE GRADUALLY STARTS TO FORGET THEM BUT SHE STILL KNEW SHE HAD HAD PAST LIVES AND SHE STILL REMEMBERED EVERYONE SHE CARED OUT AND THEN (if i remember correctly) SEO-HA REFUSES GOD'S OFFER TO REMEBER HIS PAST LIVES BECAUSE HE DOESNT WANNA HAVE ANY OTHER LOVE APART FROM HIS AND JI-EUM'S😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭(not sure if thats what he actually says but you get the gist) AND THEN THEY GET MARRIED AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER INSTEAD OF HER FORGETTING LITERALLY EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE SHE EVER CARED ABOUT AND HAVING TO REBUILD HER RELATIONSHIPS WAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME.

in conclusion, the see you in my 19th life kdrama was absolute trash and i think they should remake it. In this essay i will

#see you in my 19th life #crying screaming throwing up #i love them so much they are my life source you dont get it #petition to remake the kdrama RN‼️‼️‼️#rip my sister after listening to me rant about this for the 18462754th time #but im seriously gonna make her read the webtoon #and if she likes the kdrama more i will gut her/j #kdrama #rant #rambles

2 notes · View notes

everything-i-couldnt-tell-u · 2 years ago

Text

the thing i said on the playlist i made for you "you really feel like a nice dream i woke up to on a summer day" , i think that's the greatest thing i could honestly say to express my appreciation for you. actually explaining it in full detail just to feel satisfaction in being able to tell you exactly how i felt when i was with wouldn't be enough but i'll try. so i don't really know how to describe it, but waking up to this one specific kind of dreams on a summer afternoon, leaving me with this very fascinating feeling all the time as i look on the ceiling, taking a while to process the dream somehow and really take my time (sometimes even cry over it because of how beautiful the feeling is) but i dont know exactly what this is.

i just love the way it leaves me with a nostalgic bittersweet feeling, similar to "meeting someone you feel like you knew your whole life while having a beach vacation, but you never met them again anymore and they just remain as a memory you always love coming back to" type of vibes. it's so fucking amazing because i would love to see more of the dream and feel more of it, but you know it's like im already satisfied with everything and it didn't really leave me empty. yes waking up to the dream left me with this heavy feeling on my whole chest and body, but my heart feels so excited at the same time. and those dreams are always so comforting honestly.

most of the dreams i wake up to the same feeling are ALWAYS the same story. i get lost in some really dark place, but then i meet this really great boy who i became really great friends with for a while and it was so fucking great all the time. but then after a while you know, i gotta wake up and then i part with that boy from my dreams. it's really sad because i wanna be with them for a bit longer atleast, but im happy at the same time that i got to feel what it's like to be with someone like them.

i cannot explain really and i cant wrap my mind around this idea either that you might really have been the boy from my dreams (sorry if i sound obsessed over it, but i really have this very very deep longing for that boy from my dreams and the way you felt so fucking familiar to me is like you've been that boy all along and im happy about this stupid theory of mine)

so back on explaining a bit more, so like my dreams are like metaphor to me with my friendship with you and it's so weird. so first the very very familiar and nostalgic feeling you gave me whenever i talked to you, it's so oddly similar to the feeling that boy from my dreams gave me. and then the heavy bittersweet feeling i get whenever i wake up from my dreams about him, it's the same damn feeling i got when i cut ties with you for the third time.

okay so like from my dream its - i need to wake up and get back to living in my real life so goodbye now boy from my dreams. and with you it felt so similar, as if it's a metaphor of those dreams ending - so i got an emotional outburst and episode as if it's waking me up to confront my personal unresolved problems that's why i need to leave you for now, and let's just meet again when time lets it happen. the exact same with my dreams. i feel kinda sad but also happy, but i have already accepted that i need to say goodbye to him and just wait til i manage to dream of him again and feel his company once more.

okay so enough of maybe being the boy from my dreams, the feelings you really gave me feel so fucking amazing and it always leaves me wanting to find the words and scenarios to somehow describe how it feels because of how nice it genuinely is. and anyways im really sorry about me randomly ending things again, i don't think explaining it would fix anything and honestly i feel kinda nice being alone here right now because my social battery is really dead. i just think i really need time alone with my thoughts and sorting my feelings out because im the type of person who takes alot of time processing and learning stuff (idfk why this brain of mine works like that) but it feels nice taking things slow here at my own pace.

cutting ties with you for now really left me with the same feeling as waking up from those dreams during a summer afternoon and i can't explain it any better (this is a /pos) it didnt really leave me empty, it left me with this bittersweet feelings that i really adore and this slight longing for you, but i need to go now. i'll come back, i don't really know when, but im sure it will happen. i like overanalyzing and overappreciating these kind of feelings and memories i get left with whenever i lose someone, and honestly im enjoying it. NOT ENJOYING THAT I FUCKED UP THE FRIENDSHIP THO IM JUST SAYING THAT ITS REALLY VERY NICE when i take my time appreciating them a bit more and being alone with those thoughts.

so enough ranting, i love you so much and thank you for leaving me all those feelings. they really mean a lot to me and i think about those constantly. no one has ever made me feel the same level of closeness and familiarity like you did. your company was so different from my previous best friend and it still fascinates me. my previous best friend made me experience company that felt like cozy rainy nights and getting lost enjoying really fun stuff, and this time with you i got to experience the familiar warmth of summer and the bittersweet feeling i get when it ends. (stfu if i sound cringe rn dont laugh at me im writing this at 12 am and i always end up saying the cringiest shit at this hour) wait actually maybe on summer (idk if ill either get better or things might even get a thousand times worse because i can feel it coming and i have to start facing my issues and heal even if the thought of it really makes me tremble and feel like throwing up. i dont know when i'll heal lmfao and im scared of going through the process) so maybe let's be friends again on another summer once i finally get capable of getting a grip on my feelings and controlling what i do whenever i get emotional outbursts. love you and thanks for really being a great listener and a friend <3 bye bye ill crawl into my safe space again so see you when i get better AND ALSO PLS DONT KYS TIL I GET TO MEET YOU AGAIN okay bye

0 notes

asgardwinter · 3 years ago

Note

steve harrington and keep driving by harry styles (my two greatest loves)

here we go... thank you for the request!!

occasional

summary | It all happened so naturally, you knew it would hurt when it eventually reached the end of the road.

pairing | Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

warnings | fluff and angst, suggestive themes, allusions to semi-public sex (yeah, idk how we got here), sort of hopeful/bittersweet ending, this sort of delays season 4 for a year so no spoilers :)

word count | 1,3k (blurbs? i don’t know them anymore)

author’s note | idk, i listened to this song in an insane loop and sort of went with a summer love vibe because no one could stop me, but now i’m sad and i want these two to have a very happy ending… anyways, see it for yourselves :)

song: keep driving by harry styles

Steve Harrington Masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

After moving out for college life in Hawkins felt weird.

Going back to your old home for Summer Break brough not only all the memories from your high school year but all related to The Upside Down events and it was… well, it felt even more weird.

You went to Family Video first, a way to get back to the Hawkins atmosphere after a good while you were gone — your mom would certainly kill you if you spent the break anywhere else that wasn’t her home again. There was no way to contain your surprise as you walked inside and saw Steve Harrington on the front of a shelf organizing movies, all that while involved in a playful conversation with Robin Buckley, one of your old friends.

With the Mind Flayer incident being distant by almost a year you ignored the last occurrences of your last month in Hawkins — that included the unexpected friendship between Steve and Robin and how he somehow knew who you were after surviving together in a Russian Military Base.

“I can’t believe it!” Robin said in the middle of whatever Steve was trying to reason with her. “It’s been months since I’ve heard from you.”

She came from behind the counter to give a hug, one that was very much welcomed by you. You truly missed her, distance made things harder and you feared the day one of your only friends in that small town would move on completely from you.

But at least you were still safe from that, it seemed.

“I didn’t mean to take so long to come back here and the phones… they don’t collaborate with a poor girl with too much gossip to tell.” You started to justify your every action before she just smiled and interrupted you.

“I get it, but I’m happy to see that you’re still alive.” Robin was still Robin, you grinned.

“Hi.” Steve finally came from behind the shelf, running his hand through his hair and smiling at you — why was he smiling at you like that? “Long time no see, Y/n.”

“Oh, hi Steve. I’ve been a little bit distant.” You heard Robin scoff the moment “little bit” left your mouth.

“So, now that you’re here, how can I help you?” He gestured around him, making you remember what your intentions were at first.

“Right! I came here to look for a… movie.” You told him the obvious, only five minutes inside the store and robin had enough material to tease you. “Don’t even say anything, Robin! Would you have any suggestions for an indecisive person?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t have one now would I?”

Robin told you later he would.

…

If you told any past version of you that you’d be one of those girls in Steve’s car you’d laugh in your own face. But there you were, during a summer break and very much occupied laying in the backseat. It seemed to be one of your favourite pastimes along with finding an excuse to go to the video store and talk with Robin, both of you teaming up against Steve.

Of course, she didn’t know about the other stuff that kept filling your daily schedule, but no one knew about that and it was better like that.

The “secret” rendezvous didn’t start as something intentionally hidden. Going to your house or his house when parents weren’t there was just easier after two casual encounters at a diner. It wasn’t hard to figure out you told no one about it and he neither, so that became a silent agreement.

Yes, the boy you considered a complete douchebag through all your High School years and avoided any possible conversation was now quite busy with the buttons of your blouse and not taking his lips away from yours. Things were different then a year ago.

There was no need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

But in those moments when you were so lost in each other you allowed yourself to think what would be like if it could last, just to hide the question in the darkest corner of your mind.

No need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

…

It was comfortable, that’s why you allowed it to happen.

Talking with Steve was good. He knew about the Upside Down even before you did and there were no lies about how you’d spent the last summer fighting a monster from another dimension. Steve was fun and charming, you felt safe with him even as the shadow of your departure came looming above you two.

And that was something you avoided talking till the last minute, you wouldn’t say you forgot because it was completely intentional.

That was the problem with things that flowed way too easily at the start, between wine glasses and late night drives the important stuff kept left out to create a new problem in the future, the type of problem you only stop ignoring until it’s too late.

“I got back to Washington tomorrow.” You suddenly announced.

Steve hit the breaks almost as fast as it, making you gasp with surprise since you were in the middle of the road.

“What?” That was the only thing he could think of asking. What on Earth were you saying?

“I’m going back to college tomorrow.” You repeated it, the nonchalant tone made his heart clench playfully and he had no idea yours was hurting in the exact same way.

“And you just tell me now? Less than 24 hours earlier?”

Your silence only seemed to make things worse, but there was nothing you could do. “You never asked me when I was going back.”

“It is because I was pretty sure you were going to tell me eventually!”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Now I know.”

The quiet and uncomfortable atmosphere was a stranger in that car, but helped the tension to rise more every second you both spent with months shut.

“You should pull out the road.” You suggested in a whisper voice.

Steve took your suggestion in silence and all you wanted was to get out of his car and disappear.

“I guess this is it.” Steve said, pulling on your driveway and parking right in front of your house.

“Steve…”

“No.”

“Hey! I’m sorry, okay? I liked every moment we spent here. A lot. Probably more than I should.” You confessed to him even if Steve avoided looking in your eyes. “But we always knew this wouldn’t work.”

“Just say you don’t want it, assume you think it’s better this way but don’t say ‘this couldn’t work’ like me thinking it could work is the craziest idea you ever heard.” Steve said bitterly and you had no reaction to it besides the tears pooling in your eyes. “If you really wanted…”

“Now this is bullshit, Steve!” You exploded and his face fell.

“What did you say?”

“It makes no sense! It doesn’t mean I like you less, it just means there’s so many things that aren't in our favour right now and… God! I’ll miss you like hell, but I can’t even keep in touch with my friend, Steve.”

“You… like me?”

You frowned at his question. “I like you, I really do. Like, so much I know young me would slap me if she found out.”

“Wow, now that’s a pretty huge risk.” Steve joked and relief washed over you seeing his attempts at going back to your usual behavior.

“I know.” You smiled sadly at him.

The silence was back, the tension had dissipated but the weight of the words that were said was impossible to ignore.

“Well see how it goes. I…” Your rambling was cut off by a soft kiss, also a melancholic one. You wouldn’t dare to say it was a goodbye kiss, it was more of a don’t-wait-another-year-to-come-back-or-I’m-going-to-find-you-myself type of kiss.

“How many days till Winter Break?” Steve asked you when your eyes were still closed.

You didn’t even bother to answer the question, just pulled his lips back to yours by the collar of his uniform.

Taglists:

Everything Stranger Things: @emiscrying @wheresantarctica

#asgardwinter writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert

211 notes · View notes

goldensunset · 2 years ago

Text

Xehanort is still the Player (In a Way)

So…playernort deconfirmed. Aka, player reincarnated into that blue-robed figure that apparently raised xehanort from when he was a baby…not xehanort himself. And we’re all torn up about that because I think we can all agree that the concept of the main antagonist having these strange confusing flashbacks to a life that belonged to someone else, and not being sure what to make of it other than that he dearly loves these mysterious people that he sees in his dreams, just kinda hits you in the heart in an indescribably poetic way. And we’re missing that now. Now it turns out he just…absorbed those memories from someone else? They were never even remotely the same person at all? You’re telling me he’s just some sort of hardcore empath?

Well, I don’t buy that. It would be one thing if player just recounted the stories of their childhood to xehanort who was enthralled by the tales so much that he remembered them his whole life. Or that xehanort was so close to player growing up that their emotional state influenced his (it’s just called empathy.) but no; young xehanort has dreams of these very specific memories. even after player has already passed away. I don’t think xehanort could have vividly accurate visual dreams based purely off of second-hand knowledge (aka any stories the player might have simply told him growing up).

Somehow, a copy of the player’s memories have legitimately transferred over into xehanort’s heart. (Which is kind of an absolutely insane implication cuz this is out on some lonely island in the middle of nowhere and far before the time of heart experimentation research in radiant garden anyway. But hey whatever maybe it really is because xehanort was the magical ‘child of destiny.’ Everything else player said about xehanort’s nature was true but xehanort just ended up screwing up the destiny he was supposed to have followed.) Player themself remained intact as their own person- they were never xehanort. But xehanort has, in a way, become part player. Because those memories are an integral part of him now. They belong to him, don’t they?

Xehanort cherishes the people he met only in his dreams as if he really had met them. He grew up alone on the island aside from his parental figure. He dreamed of a bunch of other children like him who all loved each other. They were a comfort to him. He loved them, and in his point of view, these dream friends loved him back. He was in player’s shoes in all these dreams because these are player’s memories, but these scenes played in his mind like they belonged to him. Identity crisis much? Honestly even if it’s not the case, if I were in his situation, I might even start to ask myself if this was a past life of mine. That’s probably how he personally felt about it emotionally speaking, even if logically he knew it wasn’t true.

TL; DR: keep making the bittersweet fanart and comics and stuff. It’s basically still canon compliant. (An identical copy of) part of the player lives on inside xehanort. The only thing that would be different from our fanmade hypothetical reunion theories is that if he ever met these dream friends, they’d never recognize him as a familiar person- they’d just think he heard the story second-hand somewhere somehow.. Which is in itself angsty. He knows them, but they don’t know him.

#kingdom hearts #mine: kh #khdr spoilers

69 notes · View notes

mew-ya · 6 months ago

Text

UGGH Maren maren I'm so excited to read this let me tell you. Going to give my play-by-play commentary.

So first off, I know I already gave some feedback on this cus I saw it in its early stages, but I just love this whole setup/vibe for young Maren. It feels very in-character for him to be the giant pokey dude with no one around him.

PUTTING OUT YOUR CIGARETTE ON HIM IS SO FUNNY OMFG and you know he'd be kinda in to that anyway from someone he's attracted to. also very fitting for him to be excited about a terrible pretzel, then get three of them.

"slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through" oh my god why is this so hot Maren I hate you. Also him insulting a band but also having a patch of it on his vest HES LITERALLY SO RELATABLE.

The lighter scene made me go OOHHH the SIZE DIFFERENCE I'm hooting and hollering. I hate/love how much I can relate to this reader lmao, I was the same way when I was in college--unable to do anything even if my mom couldn't even see it but desperately wishing I could just be myself. I wasn't as rebellious as them though, but god I wish I could've been.

The visual of sitting on Maren's flexed arm during a concert is truly adorable. Absolutely some shit he'd pull--if was sweatin he would never admit it haha. I enjoyed the bits of them enjoying the concert together, time spent together at a concert really feels like a different breed. Wish I'd been able to go to more when I was younger! The mosh scene was great too, reader kind of half trying to impress Maren but also just being genuinely curious and wanting to do it!!

Loved the detail of Maren finding perfect holes in reader's argument and them just being like WAIT. HES RIGHT? FUCK. Very Maren lmao, like I'd want to talk to him about my problems but I also think he'd make me cry (in a good way)

Him spreading the information about the band is so DGKHDFG tiny lil Maren and then the entire crowd rioting cus reader set them off is such a fun idea!! I can't help but go into panic mode in my own brain because I know how often this sort of thing leads to deaths by trample but I liek to think that the bigger guys here were very conscious of where they were walking. And LMAO of course Maren would've stolen a guitar, what a story it'd have now. I haven't really come up with any stories for where he got his banjo or guitar, this is makin me wanna cook up some ideas. Just like "Where'd you get that black guitar?" "Stole it" what." "From a pedo" "…what" "Stole it from a pedo" "…ok"

Oh good lord getting taught to play guitar IN HIS LAP IM SCREAMING thats so good…

I ended up reading the next bits really fast because they're super hot lol the kiss…the thigh…the dry humping size difference stuff <3 My shit!! I love the "just let me sit on you and you can get smaller and we can figure out the size" and then the riding him and him being like "ok my turn" DFKGHDFG RARRGH you got him so good!! I loved every moment of this fic, genuinely thank you so much for taking your valuable time and spending it writing my boy. This was such a fun and hot read!

i also loved the final bits -- i think the bittersweetness of it is awfully fitting for him, and the obvious loneliness hes experiencing. hes someone who spent most of his life not really being a consistent part of others lives aside from his pirate crew. kata was such a change for him. i'm interested to think of how this reader might react to seeing his wanted poster...and probably how amused they'd be many years later to find that he ends up marrying Katakuri, a man who is similar to reader but Worse(tm)

it makes me want to make more work of young maren & his interactions with the world since his life didn't really revolve around Katakuri/WCI shenaningans until later. (he did technically meet Kata when he was 28 but his memory gets wiped so not counting it)

"The Fall of Ideals"

Character: Maren (young adult version)

Reader: AFAB

Word Count: 11.3k

CW: recreational drug use, explicit N.SFW content, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size difference/size kink

Summary: Going to the Riptide Rock Festival instead of studying for your exam was one bad decision. A chance encounter with a stranger leads you to making several more.

Ao3 Link

[Happy Birthday @mewiyev! I swear I'm normal about Maren (hides word count) >.> In all seriousness, I truly adore this amazing character that you've created and I hope that shines through in this gift! Thank you for sharing him with the world!]

“This next song has never been heard before!” The lead singer of Violincense announces into the mic, prompting screams of excitement from the crowd. “We’re debuting it here at Riptide, the single for our next album–we present to you, Smokescream!”

The sound drifts from afar as you hurry back toward the crowd, having left to throw away your empty cup between songs. A rookie mistake, you soon realized, as the crowd closed up behind you, and now you were having trouble penetrating the throng of bodies. Had you any experience with these things, you would have just held onto the damn cup. Now you’re going to miss getting a good view of the band for what is possibly history in the making. You know Violincense was on the cusp of making it big, and here was your chance to watch it happen, front and center.

The crowd had formed itself into groups roughly based on size, with the tallest people closer to the back and sides. Some people of average height opted to stay close to their big friends, often sitting on their shoulders. One especially big man even wore some kind of shoulder-mounted table, carrying six of his friends. You can't help but feel a little jealous as you squeeze past them. You’re here alone, after all.

“S’cuse me…” you mumble, feeling out of place. Everyone else was dressed in band shirts and worn jackets, spiked bracelets and collars and chokers. In comparison, you look plain, but even if the trip to this venue hadn’t been last minute, you would’ve had nothing to wear anyway. It wasn’t your wisest choice to abandon studying for your big upcoming exam and blow all your food money on tickets, travel, and board for a rock festival. But now that you're here, that all seems like minor worries, a drop in the bucket of life. Who knows when you would get to do something like this again?

The Riptide Rock Fest was one of the biggest rock festivals on the Grand Line. Sporting multiple stages across the grounds and a myriad of different tents, it was a three-day haven to all fans of rock music genres. Each day had one big headliner show in the evening, with lesser-known bands filling the side stages throughout the day. It was currently the second day of the festival, and Violincense was one of the small bands you had been especially excited for, so you were eager to get back to a good spot before they started.

Alas, you were still stuck behind a wall of taller folk, unable to see the stage. The sound of drumsticks striking each other sounded as the band counted off, before a heavy guitar riff started the song. You paused to take it in, then shook your head and kept anxiously making your way along the perimeter of bodies, unable to find your way in and too polite to push through.

Finally, you spot an opening: closer to the middle and slightly off to the side, there's a little bit of space. The only person there is one of the big people, some guy that has to be at least fifteen feet tall. For some reason, he's being given a wide berth by those around him, but you don’t give it any thought as you dart for that spot before it gets taken.

As you get closer, you see the potential reason people are leaving him be: rows of large, menacing spines stick out of his back through his clothes. However, those spines are far too high up to be a danger to you, so you step into place next to him and are at last able to get a decent view of the stage. Up close, the man is even more massive–not just tall, but thick-bodied and muscular, his burly arms alone bigger than you are. You decide to just avoid eye contact and return your focus to the show.

Smokescream, like all of Violincense’s music, sucks you right in from the start. Hearing the band live is a completely different experience. Sure, a studio recording could let a band trim off the imperfections in the sound, but it isn’t the same. This was how music was meant to be heard, you think. The fast-paced, harmonic chords strike you personally, heavy drums feeling like they’re replacing your heartbeat. Swept up in the music, you’re so invested you don’t notice that the huge man is staring at you until halfway through the song, when you glance and accidentally meet his eye.

You stare back for a moment, stunned. He’s astonishingly handsome, if not a bit intimidating; a broad jaw and strong nose that balanced his features well, long, reddish brown hair that matches the color of his spines, a simple goatee, and gauged ears. He's wearing a black leather vest covered in various patches, but no shirt, showing off his husky build, a pair of faded green cargo shorts, and platform boots adorned in belts. His light skin sports a fair share of bruises and he's a bit scuffed up, likely from a mosh pit. Unlike you, he looks entirely in his element.

The man watched you with a sour, unimpressed look, eyes slightly narrowed. Suddenly self-conscious, you look away, distracting yourself by pulling out one of the spliffs you had rolled earlier from your pocket and lighting it. After a few hits, you’re able to relax a little more, turning your focus back to the stage. You don’t think about the man until the next song comes to a close, the crowd cheering on the tail end of the final notes, when he leans over slightly in your direction.

“Do you need something?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

It wasn’t just his spines that kept others away. You’re abruptly aware of the prickly energy he’s giving off, his tone as guarded as his body language. Still, you have no idea what he’s talking about, so you just give him a look of confusion in response.

“What are you doing here?” he presses.

You look over at the band, then back up at him. “...Is that a trick question?”

“I mean here, in this spot.” He points at the ground. “Do you normally make a habit of approaching strange men?”

“You talked to me first,” you point out, pulling the cig from your mouth.

“Everyone else got the damn hint,” he says gruffly.

“I’m too short to care about the spines,” you say, wondering what his problem is. “And anyway, I wasn’t aware you owned this section.”

He leans forward a bit more, towering over your space. “It ain’t the spines you gotta worry about, small fry.”

“What are you gonna do? Bite me?”

“That’s right.” He smiles, showing off pointed teeth. It's not a friendly smile, but it looks good on him anyway, though it makes you uncertain–he really is enormous, easily a threat to someone your size.

Maybe it’s because you’re in a new place, already out of your comfort zone. Maybe it’s the few beers already in you at that point. But instead of giving him space like a sane person would, you instead respond, “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

That makes him smile even wider, leaning forward just a bit more. “I’m part Fish-man, you know. My teeth are razor sharp.”

“Even better.”

He laughs, his face lighting up in his amusement. You feel your face get warm and quickly stick the cig back in your mouth before you say something else embarrassing. He has a nice laugh.

The band announces that they are playing their last song of the set. Neither you nor your neighbor speak for the entirety of it. Either he likes the music too much to bother you, or he decided you were alright after all; regardless, he leaves you alone until the song is over. After the cheering of the crowd dies down, he turns back to you.

“I gotta say, I didn’t expect that coming from you.”

You rub the back of your neck, distinctly aware how plain you look. “I know I’m not dressed for a concert. I don’t really own any band shirts.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“Not allowed?” He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Are you a teenager?”

“Nope. Just a college student with a ruthlessly strict mother.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch,” you snap, all playfulness gone.

He isn’t thwarted even slightly, lip curling into a sneer. Reaching out with one giant hand, he pokes you in the chest, easily making you stumble back and imposing the difference in your strength. “What are you gonna do about it, small fry?”

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you could have sworn he had gotten bigger. You falter for a second, shocked that he would get physical and a bit intimidated. Then you get mad. If he’s going to be a cunt, you would be a cunt right back.

You stub out your spliff on his finger, hearing it sizzle. The man jerks his hand back with a yelp. “Ow! Fuck!”

“I'm not gonna let you push me around,” you bluff, pretending to be braver than you are. Jerks usually prefer easy targets, but there's still a chance he might get aggressive. You bare your teeth and pray he's all talk. “We're surrounded by people. Try me.”

“Are you stupid?” he growls, cradling his burned hand. “You could get seriously hurt, messing with guys like me. Sheesh…and you still haven’t taken the hint.” He grumbles, sticking his finger into his mouth, but he does not do anything else, and you deflate a little in relief.

Violincense announces that they're playing an encore, and the crowd roars as they launch into a familiar track–one of their most popular songs, Nightingales.

Attempting to ignore your surly neighbor, you close your eyes to really take in your favorite part of the song. Then you stare at the stage intensely, trying to burn the image of the band playing it into your memory. As it comes to a close, you glance at the huge man again. He’s closed his eyes, too, a serene look on his face as he listens. Right then, you feel bad for him–he just wants to enjoy the music in peace, like you. Maybe you overreacted.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him once the music stops.

“Whatever,” he spits, then mumbles, “you must be lonely, talking to me.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug. “But I’d bet you are, too. I mean, have you heard these lyrics?”

He looks surprised that you’d admit it so casually. Then he huffs, looking away. “I know em’ by heart.”

The crowd starts to move around you as the band packs up their things. You stick your hands in your pockets, feeling awkward. “Hey, uh, look… I’m sorry I did that. Really. I’ll make it up to you,” you said. “Want a pretzel or something? I’ll buy.”

The man visibly perks up, giving you another look of surprise. He’s kind of cute like this…

“They’re stale and oversalted,” you say enticingly, offering a hesitant smile. “But the cheese dip is…well, it also sucks, but at least it’s hot.”

“Fuck yeah,” the man grins from ear to ear. “I won’t say no to free food.”

You both head to the food tents, introducing yourselves on the way. You learned his name was Maren–“just Maren,” as he said after you gave him your last name. A lot of the patches on his vest were of bands you liked, so you were able to find some common ground despite the rough start.

You ended up buying Maren three soft pretzel sticks, just because he was so much larger–it only seemed fair. His attitude did a complete 360 at that, thrilled at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he says, and you nod, pulling out a program flier to see where the next band you wanted to watch would play. Maren peers over your shoulder as he shoves a cheese-slathered pretzel stick into his mouth. “Where ya headed next?”

“South stage,” you replied. “Shitty Kitties is playing soon.”

“Hm,” his voice is slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through, “Shitty Kitties? Kinda gimmicky, don’t ya think?”

“They're cool! The lead singer is a puma zoan. He transforms his vocal chords to do these crazy growls.”

“Exactly. A gimmick, not real skill.”

“Who cares how he does it, so long as it sounds good?”

“He leans on it too much. He can’t sing for shit, small fry.”

“Small fry,” you echoe, “is that a Fish-man thing?”

“Because of your shirt,” Maren points. You’re wearing a graphic tee that has cartoon french fries and tater tots, engaged in a shootout and bleeding ketchup.

“This my favorite shirt,” you say defensively.

“You have dorky taste.”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

Maren grins. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat you yet.” Despite his words, he’s less intimidating with a bit of cheese sauce smeared on his mouth.

“There you go again, threatening me with a good time,” you joke.

He smiles back, and your stomach does a weird little flip. For being kind of a jerk, he really is good-looking. Still, it’s probably in your best interests to wish him well and part ways here.

“Wanna go to the south stage together?” Maren asks.

“Yes,” you immediately reply.

You only made it to the Riptide Rock Fest by doing what you weren’t supposed to–what was one more bad decision?

Maren stuffs the rest of the food into his face, finishing it in two huge bites, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. You stare as he licks the sauce off his hand, following the trailing of his tongue. He meets your eyes as he does, grinning to himself when you break eye contact to look away and clear your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart? See something you like?” he teases.

“No–I wasn’t–you’re just messy,” you stammer, failing to save face. Trying to distract him, you point up at his vest. “Hey, isn’t that a Shitty Kitties patch? What gives?”

Maren looks a bit embarrassed. “That was from years ago. I’ve had this jacket for a long time–hey, don’t change the subject, now.”

Caught red-handed and losing your buzz, you start to walk away, feeling your usual shyness resurfacing now that the intoxication is wearing off. Maren follows you, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and chatting as you walk. He has no trouble making conversation, and picks up the slack where you falter. You find it easy to talk to him, and the more you talk, the more you want to know more about him. However, he dodges questions relating to himself, either outright ignoring them or just deflecting with more questions. By the time you make it to the south stage, you feel like you're talking about yourself too much, but he seems to prefer it that way.

“So where are your friends at?” Maren asks, as if it would be unthinkable for you to have come by yourself.

“Where are yours?” you try.

“Came alone.” It was the only direct answer from him in the last twenty minutes.

“Me too.”

“What, your friends don’t like rock?”

You shift from foot to foot, unsure how to respond in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a complete loser. “I don’t, uh… I don’t have any friends,” you admit. “Not where I live, anyway. After I graduated high school, mom moved us halfway around the world. Relocated to the best college she could find. I haven’t made any new friends since. Most students at that university are the entitled, wealthy type.”

“And you’re not?” Maren teases lightly.

You wrinkle your nose. “I got a full ride through scholarships.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins when you make a face at him, enjoying riling you up, “so you’re the nerdy type of smart! I knew it.”

You doubt he really knew it, and are starting to wonder if he’s flirting with you. He seems to like your company, anyway. Oh, shit, is he flirting with you?

Suddenly uncertain, you went for the only distraction you could think of, digging into your pocket for another pre-rolled spliff. “If I was actually smart,” you say, “I wouldn’t be here. I should be studying for this huge exam, but…” you trail off.

“But…?” Maren prompts.

“I felt like if I looked at one more book, I’d completely lose it.” You pat your pocket to search for your lighter. “All I ever do is study. I’m sick of it! I had to do something else or I’d snap. And I’ve always wanted to go to a concert–ugh, where the fuck is my lighter?”

Maren pulls a lighter from one of the many pockets on his shorts. “Here,” he says, crouching down low in front of you. You reach to accept the lighter from him, but he gently bats your hand away and instead holds the lighter up to your mouth. His hands are so large compared to the tiny spliff that he has to lean in close and focus, his tongue sticking out slightly. Carefully, he lights the spliff, his face filling your vision, and you find yourself staring again. The warmth from the lighter’s flame almost doesn’t register over your own heated cheeks.

“There we go,” he says, eyes darting up from the lighter to meet your own gaze. You glance away, the eye contact a bit much for you sober, and when you look back, he’s still leaning close, now smiling big. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly. “You, uh, want a drag?”

“Depends. What’s in it?”

“Just weed and tobacco.”

“Hell yeah, hand it over.”

You hand him the spliff, and he takes a deep drag, nodding to himself in approval. “This is good shit. You’re not as straight-laced as you seem, huh? Guess momma doesn’t know about this.”

“I have special hiding places for it,” you say. “No matter how much she digs through my shit, she won’t find it.”

“Sounds like you need to live on campus.” Maren passes the spliff back.

“I do,” you say bluntly, taking a drag and exhaling in a sigh. “She searches my things when she visits.”

“Yeesh. Why do you defend her?”

It’s not as simple as Maren makes it sound, and you aren’t sure how to put that into words. Luckily, before you can think of an answer, a familiar, high-pitched snarl echoes over the speakers. You look to the stage as the crowd cheers, but the view is completely obscured by other concert goers closer to Maren’s size. If you want to actually see Shitty Kitties, you’ll have to part ways and head up further to the “smalls” section of the crowd.

“Aw, hell. I guess I gotta go,” you say reluctantly.

“Wait!” Maren shouts to be heard over the lead singer’s introduction. “You can sit on my shoulder!”

“You’re full of spikes!” you shout back.

Maren pauses, thinking for a second. “No big deal! Here, sit on my arm!” He flexes one burly arm, patting it. “No spines and a perfect view of the stage! Deluxe seating, compliments of Maren. Whaddaya say?”

You blink, flattered at the offer but not wanting to impose. “But…won’t you get tired?”

“Nope!” Maren flexes his arm further, showing off his impressive muscles and grinning proudly.

He doesn't want you to leave, you realize. The thought gives you butterflies in your stomach that the spliff doesn't help to calm. Maren is roguishly attractive and good company, and he wants you around–why not accept?

“Alright,” you nod. “How do I get up theRE–!”

The moment you consent, Maren picks you up, wrapping his hands around your hips and hoisting you onto his upper arm as your words turn into a cry of surprise. Suddenly fourteen feet off the ground, you grip the fabric of his vest tightly, tucking your legs under his arm to hold on.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” Maren says cheerfully, patting your shoulder with his upheld hand.

You giggle nervously. From up here, you can see above the heads of the taller people and have an excellent view of the stage. Just in time, too, as the lead singer of Shitty Kitties finishes hyping up the crowd and begins counting down to their first song of the set.

“One, two, three!” The lead singer yells, then snarls into the mic.

“Oh! Oh!!” you exclaim. “This is Blightmare!”

Maren grins at your excitement. He nods along to the music, careful not to move you too much, and you pass the spliff back and forth as you enjoy the song. Blightmare was an old cult classic, one of your favorites. Once it hits the main verse, you're far too enthralled to not scream out the lyrics–hell, everyone else is.

“ROWR! I’m the wrong kinda crowd / I’m the devil in the day / and I’m no good for you / but you like it that way!”

You glance at Maren to see that he’s singing along, too. You can’t hear him, much less yourself, but you both grin at each other as you sing. The high of the spliff compounds the intoxicating feeling of the music, until you wrap one arm around Maren’s upheld one so you can steady yourself while headbanging.

“Fuck yeah!” Maren shouts, throwing devil horns up with his free hand. The both of you get swallowed up by the energy of your surroundings, screaming along song lyrics and pumping your fists for every song that plays. The set concludes what feels like far too early, and people begin to move around the two of you as they make their way to other stages.

“That was amazing!” you laugh, exhilarated.

“It was pretty cute, hearing you try to growl like the lead singer,” Maren says.

Your chest tightens in a good way, and you giggle nervously, shaking your head. “My vocal chords will regret that tomorrow. But fuck it, right?”

“That’s right!”

“I didn’t know this would be so much fun! I’m so glad I came!”

“Is this your first time?” Maren asks, crouching down so he can let you off him.

“Yep. First concert ever.” You land and get your bearings, patting down your jeans. “There are lots of things I’ve missed out on because all my time was spent studying. Morning drills before class, prep school after, then homework in the evening.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” Maren asks like it’s obvious, and you balk at him.

“What? I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. It sucks, you clearly don’t like it. So quit.”

“You don’t understand,” you explain. “Mom gave up everything to get me here. We were dirt poor. She would even skip meals to make sure I was fed. She worked hard to give me this opportunity! I can’t just throw that away.”

Maren doesn't look convinced, but he doesn’t argue, either, merely shrugging. “Well, alright. Where ya wanna go next?”

You look down to hide your smile, thrilled that he wants to keep hanging out with you. Pulling out the flier, you squint at it. “A band called ‘M-K’ is going to play on this stage. What’s ‘M-K?’”

“Monochrome Kaleidoscope.”

“Oh. Well, they’re up next. And on the east stage, there’s Taka Tora Batta… and BB Thunder on the north. They should all finish around the same time, right before the headliner plays on the center stage.”

The headliner for the second day was Preyer, a band with a self-described “carnivore gothic” theme that was rapidly growing in popularity. Maren hadn’t brought them up at all yet, which was surprising–they seemed to be right up his alley, considering his taste in other bands.

“I don’t have a preference either way–I’m good with whatever,” he says.

“Me too. Why don’t we stay here, then?” you suggest. “We can move up closer and get a better spot in the crowd. If we go stand right at the border between the large and small section, you won’t have to hold me up the whole time.”

“I don’t mind,” Maren winks, making you flush warm, “but alright. Sounds like a plan.”

You feel far more at ease walking through the crowds with Maren at your side. Concerts are supposed to be a group event in the first place, and with such an open venue, you had some concerns about being by yourself. But even other big people would think twice before starting a fight with Maren, which was all the more reason you should have never gambled on ticking him off earlier. A stupid risk, but in a weird way, the action seemed to gain his respect–and now that you had each other to hang out with, you’d never been happier in making such a string of poor decisions.

You and Maren find the good spot you had mentioned earlier, the people behind you all larger like him, and the people in front of you average-sized. Maren opts to sit down, as he’s still tall enough from there to see over the “shorties,” as he calls them. You, on the other hand, can't sit without losing sight of the stage, so you lean against him instead, mindful of the spikes.

Monochrome Kaleidoscope was a band that seems to be a mix of electronic and jam rock subgenres. They switch off between playing songs from their newest album, Shatterstatic, and having jam sessions right there on stage, improvising for five minute segments. The drums and synth players decide on a beat and background, and the rest of the musicians jump in with their instruments one at a time. You've never seen anything like it before, and let Maren know as much in between songs.

“Oh, yeah, M-K’s great.” He gives you a lazy grin. “I need to see if their merch table is selling patches later. Don’t have theirs yet.”

“If you hold our spot, I’ll go look for you,” you offer.

“Alright! Thanks, sweetheart.”

You flush warm and quickly excuse yourself before your flustering becomes obvious. As you weave through the “smalls” section, you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself. Maren is the last person you’d ever expect yourself to crush on. A small voice in the back of your mind tells you not to get too smitten, to keep your wits about you. You have only known Maren for a few hours, and he didn’t want to talk about himself. Maybe there was a reason for that, and that reason could have been a dangerous one. But he liked your company. And you craved the attention, truth be told. You never realized how starved you’d been for it.

The merch table was an assortment of stickers, buttons, patches, guitar picks, vinyls, and even some pricey tone dials. All of them had black-and-white designs around the band’s logo. Your hand hovered above the patches. For a moment, you considered getting two. But you didn’t have anything to put it on, and if your mother found it, she would likely throw a fit. The thought brought you out of your high somewhat After tomorrow, you’d go back to your regular life. Back to the mundane rigors of academia and arithmetic.

There was no doubt this was the only time you’d get to hang with Maren. He’d eventually go back to whatever island he was from–hell, he might have even been a pirate (a scary thought,) in which case there was a slim chance you would ever see him again. You clenched your fists as you decided, right then and there: this weekend was your only chance to try something new. So what if he was literally rough around the edges? So what if you’d regret it later? You were far more afraid of the regret you’d feel if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity.

Maren might only be your friend for a day, but that was one day more than you had in years. With that in mind, you went ahead and purchased a patch for him, and a guitar pick for yourself. You didn’t know how to play guitar, but the pick would be an easy-to-hide memento.

When you returned, two songs had passed, and Maren was standing, looking far more scuffed up than when you’d left him, his hair all messy and a new rip in his pants.

“Woah, are you okay?” you ask, reaching up to touch his forearm, where a fresh bruise is forming.

“Yep. A mosh pit formed behind me, so I joined in,” he replies, letting you examine his arm. “So did they sell patches over there?”

“Yeah! Here,” you take the patch out of your bag and hold it out to him.

Maren’s eyes go wide. “You–you didn’t have to buy me one.”

You shrug. “I, uh…I wanted to. No big deal.”

He looks genuinely taken aback, a faint dusting of pink contrasting with his freckles. Then he smiles big. “Aw, thanks, babe. That’s real sweet of you.”

You’re already flustered from the pet name, so when he reaches up to brush your cheek affectionately, your brain nearly short-circuits. Face burning, you deftly avoid his gaze, staring at his arm and changing the subject.

“That looks painful,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise.

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was fun. You should try it!”

“Moshing?” you blink at him, incredulous. “No way. I mean, me?”

“Why not? You can start one up in the ‘smalls’ section. I know you shrimps need to get out your terrier energy.”

“Wha–hey!” you laugh, making Maren grin.

“I’m serious. You said this is your first concert, right? Trying new things is good for you.”

You’re not sure what part of knocking into other people is good for you, but for some reason, you feel yourself drawn to the idea. You shouldn’t be, but what if this was the only concert you’d ever get to attend? And what is it about Maren that makes him so convincing? He’s not even pressuring you, not really. You just want to look cool in front of him, despite the fact he probably thinks you're a total dork. You want him to like you so bad, but clearly he already does, so why are you considering this?

Maren sees you looking out over the crowd hesitantly, and raises a thick finger to point. “See those people down by the southwest row? The ones jumping up and down? They look primed for it. All you have to do is scurry over there and give them a little push.”

You bite your lip. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he nods. “Don’t shove people who look like they don’t want to be involved, and don’t use brute force on anyone smaller than you. Help up anyone you see on the ground. Other than that, go nuts.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay…”

Maren salutes you as you head forth. You walk a little quicker, gradually picking up your pace. When you reach the aforementioned group, you're at a brisk jog, and, feeling a bit nuts, you shove into the most energetic looking guy there.

He stumbles slightly, looking surprised. You freeze.

Suddenly you're shoved from the side by a random girl. She shouts something at the group as you recover, and then the man you shoved comes back and pushes into her. There's more yelling from the group, and then four of them start throwing themselves into the crowd around them. Pulse racing, you collect yourself and join in, running at the nearest person.

The lead singer shouts and points at your section of the crowd. The guitarist jumps in, shredding an improvised solo like a crazy man. Suddenly the area around you seems to erupt, your small group becoming a massive, frenzied pit of at least 30 people. You get jabbed with elbows and shoved into bodies, never knowing where the next impact is going to come from, but your adrenaline is pumping like crazy and you don't want to stop.

A particularly hard shove sends you off your feet. You hit the ground and tense, expecting to get trampled, but multiple hands come out of nowhere, lifting you back onto your feet. You pause, get bumped into, and resume throwing yourself into the swarm.

You get knocked down several more times, but every time, hands reach out from the crowd like magic and pull you back up. It's only after you're out of breath and hurting that you decide to call it quits, making your way to the edge of the mosh pit, through the crowd, and back to Maren.

“Ahh!” you inform him, overcome with adrenaline. It feels like you just got off a roller coaster. “I–I did it!”

“You were like a little tornado,” Maren chuckles. “How was it?”

“Fun!” you shout. Your body hurts in various places, and you're banged up and bruised, but grinning like a maniac.

“Attagirl!” He holds out his fist to you, and you punch it.

It takes you a bit to catch your breath. You lean against Maren in the meantime, trying not to smile when he loops his arm around your hips.

“It looks like they have so much fun playing,” you say after MK finishes their last song. “I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar.”

“Why don’t you–wait, let me guess: you’re not allowed?” Maren raises both brows pityingly, and you lightly punch his arm.

“I just haven’t had the free time.”

“I could teach you, if I had a guitar,” he says, then pretends like he’s thinking hard, rubbing his goatee. “Tell you what. You sneak backstage and steal a guitar, and I’ll teach you to play a song.”

For a moment, you find yourself seriously considering it. Then you laugh at yourself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A straight-laced person like me, committing theft.”

Maren laughs too. “I think breaking the rules would do you some good.”

“That’s not the kind of person I am.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not, and I’m okay with that.”

“Boooring.” Maren sticks out his tongue.

“That’s okay, too.”

He regards you for a moment. “You seem to have it all figured out.”

“I have to,” you say simply. “I mean, my own mother doesn’t know me. If I don’t know who I am, then no one does.”

“…”

“Anyway, if I get caught and jailed. I’d be kicked out of college, and then I’d lose everything. So no theft for me.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Maren says suddenly.

“Wha–of course. Everything my mom did…”

“Okay, but it doesn’t make sense to me.” Maren looks at you seriously. “What’s the point of all that sacrifice if you aren’t happy?”

You open your mouth, but can’t find a response. The words sink in slowly, slowly, and you try and wrap your mind around them. He…He's right. This punk you've known all of several hours is completely and totally right, and you have no idea what to say.

“Uh,” you say. “Um. Wow. Okay. I mean, yeah. Yeah, you have a point there.”

“Don’t sweat it too much, sweetheart.”

Easier said than done–you’re mulling over what he said for the rest of the set, only breaking out of the trance when it finishes and the crowd starts to move. You and Maren get up and follow the flow of the crowd. Everyone’s headed in the same direction–the side shows are all done, and it’s time for the headliner at the center stage.

The excitement at seeing Preyer live cheers you up a bit. You like several of their songs, and you’ve heard they have a great stage presence. Some of the people around you even have signs, though they don’t look nearly as happy to be there as you would think someone who went to the trouble of making signs would be.

Come to think of it, Maren doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic, either. His grin is entirely absent, like it was when you first met him earlier in the day. After you both find a good spot to stand at the center stage, you decide to bring it up.

“I guess you don’t like Preyer?” you ask.

“They sound alright, but the bandmates themselves are douchebags,” is his reply. “I’m not about to hold up a sign over it, but I’m not going to cheer them on, either.”

The comment strikes you as weird, and you follow Maren’s gaze to get a proper look at one of the signs someone’s holding. Rather than a message of endearment, like you expected, there is bold, bright red letters reading out:

‘PREYER OF CHILDREN!!!’

The other signs read similarly, and you frown. “What's with those signs?”

“You haven't heard?” Maren says.

“No… Did something happen?”

“You could say that.” He narrows his eyes. “The lead singer of Preyer likes to hook up with underage fans.”

“What?!”

“Yep. Several teenagers have come forward about it. Apparently drugs were involved. But there wasn't any hard evidence, so nothing’s been done.”

“Oh! That’s awful!”

“Sorry you had to find out like this.” He pats your shoulder, resting his giant hand there. “I know it kinda ruins the vibes of the festival.”

“It's not ruined,” you say quickly. “I mean, maybe this particular concert is, but I'd rather have known.”

Maren nods. “That bastard let down every single person who came out here. Everyone who looked up to him.” His grip on your shoulder tightens, his smile tense. “He doesn't deserve to be the headlining show. He doesn't deserve to play at all.”

You shake your head in agreement. When you next glance up at Maren, he has a sly gleam in his eye, his grin stretching like he just thought of something funny.

“Maren?”

“I'm gonna head to the restroom. Wait for me, sweetheart.”

You both already made pit stops before coming to the center stage. He might just need to go again, but even having only known him a few hours, you get the distinct feeling that he's up to something. Before you can say anything, though, he pushes through the crowd behind you and disappears.

You wait for him. The time passes, and several minutes turn to half an hour with no sign of Maren. Just as you really start to get concerned, you realize that the crowd has grown unusually tense. It's not the excited kind of tension, either, not an eagerness for the show to start. Rather, every few minutes you look around for Maren and see more and more people looking restless, even angry. People are starting to turn to their neighbors and talk.

Something is definitely going on. You focus, trying to pick out individual conversations.

“... serious! He slept with a minor, and…”

“...gave alcohol to a kid…”

“... can't be true! He's a good guy...”

“...she was my daughter's age…”

The rumors of what the lead singer did are spreading like wildfire, it seems. You've never seen anything like it. You're not sure how it's happening–there are some protesters, but not enough to cause this–until you see a shock of familiar, burnt-orange hair a ways down the crowd.

But, wait. That can't be Maren. He’s 15 feet tall, and those guys over there are only about 7. You squint, confused to see that yes, it's definitely Maren, albeit shorter somehow. He's got his hand cupped to someone's ear, their face changing from neutral to shocked to angry in quick succession. Maren pulls away and works his way to another section of the crowd, and you suddenly know exactly what's going on.

Maren’s making sure not a single concert-goer hasn't heard about what's happened! You're in shock. He didn’t strike you as the type to care that much. That, or he just wants to start trouble. You're reminded again that you really don't know him that well, but you can't bring yourself to look down on what he's doing, either.

You lose sight of him as he disappears into the crowd again, and don't see him until the band has finished setting up, when he seemingly materializes next to you.

“Those pretzel sticks didn't agree with you, huh?” you joke. “Looks like the crowd does, though.”

“Imagine that,” he grins.

The lead singer starts speaking into the mic, only for the crowd to erupt into a cacophony of boos. You glance at Maren, who’s joined them in full force, then at the crowd. You can't help it– you join in too.

The lead singer tries to pacify the crowd to no avail. He can't get a single word in. He grows more frustrated with each attempt, until he finally screams, “Fuck you! We are Preyer, and we're going to rock your world! Five, six, seven, eight!”

The band launches into their first song. It's a shame–the music itself is good, but you can't enjoy it the same, especially not with the undercurrent of jeering. You figure the best option at this point would be to just leave, but Maren has other ideas.

“Charge! The! Stage!” he starts chanting, and your eyes get huge. Before you know it, the people around you pick up the chant. It's barely audible over the music, but steadily, more and more people start joining in, and it grows louder, and louder.

Maren notices your alarm and crouches down next to you, shouting so you can hear him over all the noise. “All good, babe?”

“All good? You're starting a riot!”

“Fuck yeah, I am!” He holds his hand out to you. “Are you with me?”

You stare at his hand for a moment, wondering how you got to this point. You knew, you just knew hanging out with him was a bad idea. He was everything you weren't! Everything you were taught not to be, brash and opportunistic and self-concerned. He would only make you worse, you were sure. But…god help you, you wanted to be like him. You wanted just a piece of that energetic confidence, to feel the warmth of the fire that burned within him.

Even if you would get burned.

You swing your arm and clasp Maren's hand tightly. “Yeah!”

The crowd festers, the chant spreading like a plague, madder and louder until even avid fans are screaming it. The dissent is close to bursting, but it isn't quite enough. It needs something to push it over that edge. You look around. The larger fans toward the back seem eager to go, but people your size at the front, while angered, are still in place. Those at the back can't move forward until the ones up front do, not without trampling the smaller concert-goers.

You suddenly have a really, really bad idea. It's so, so unlike you, but, hell. If you want to be different… Maybe not at home, but here, maybe you can be…

What's the point of all that sacrifice if you aren't happy?

Fine, then. You'll make the change for yourself, if you have to.

Without warning, you start pushing through the crowd. Maren shouts after you, but you don't stop, and his voice is swallowed up by the chorus of rage. Heart pounding, you elbow and shoulder your way past the throng of people, row after screaming row, the stage getting closer and closer, the music so loud it's deafening. You can't hear the crowd anymore, nor your own crazed, panicky breathing. Only adrenaline keeps you going. Up at the front now, you can see a line of several security guards dotting the space before the stage. You break through the last line of people, charge forward, vault over the divider, and leap for the stage.

Somehow you make it. You scrabble up and on. A security guard grabs you by the foot, but you yank your leg, your shoe coming off in his hand. The band keeps playing, but the lead singer stops. You charge him, and he scrambles back. But you're not going for him, much as he deserves it.

You grab the mic and scream one word with all your lungs:

“RIOT!”

All hell breaks loose.

The crowd roars, surging forward like a busted dam. The band stops playing. The security guards who followed you onstage are swiftly overwhelmed. One grabs you, but is pulled off you by three other people. The stage is quickly overrun, shouting and chaos all around. You get pushed and jostled by the rush of bodies. Equipment is being thrown, instruments trashed, wires torn. You can't see anything past the bodies and can't gain enough footing to move in any direction of your own choosing. When the larger people from the back reach the stage, you start to worry about getting trampled. Your fear is quickly realized as you're knocked hard onto the ground.

Out of nowhere, a large hand grabs you and pulls you high up–Maren, lifting you into one burly arm.

“You alright?” he shouts.

“Yes!” you half shout, half laugh.

He grins wide. “Cops are coming. Hold on!”

Maren runs away from the stage. You cling to his vest, but his hold on you is secure. The people around you are going every which direction, some still charging for the stage, some making a break for it like you are. Policemen start cutting into the crowd, rushing to protect the band.

“Where are you going?” you ask him once you've gained some distance from the crowd.

“No clue,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let’s go to the Saltwater Inn! I have a room there.”

“Where's that?”

“Head south.”

After you're a safe distance from the chaos, Maren slows to a stop and sets you down, catching his breath. You're panting, too, mostly from adrenaline.

“That…that was…” you pant.

“That was insane! You're amazing!” Maren yells.

“I don't know why I did that!” you yell back. “I–I hope no one saw my face! Oh my god…”

He laughs, one hand on his hip. “I was wrong about you, sweetheart. That was pretty ballsy.”

Right then, you notice that Maren has a guitar in his other hand. “Where did you get that?”

“I stole it from backstage while everyone was distracted.”

“Maren!”

“What? You did far crazier back there.”

You should feel guilty, and normally you would, but his toothy grin just makes you break out into a matching smile.

“Okay, good point. But let's not stick around.” You tug on his free hand, and Maren lets you lead him toward the inn.“I saw something weird while you were in the ‘bathroom’,” you say while you walk. “I could have sworn I saw another, smaller you in the crowd.” You give him an accusatory look.

“Heh. Yeah, that was me. I can change my size, cuz I'm a porcupinefish type Fish-man.”

“This isn't your normal size?”

“Nah, but I prefer it.”

The two of you chat as you make it back to the nearby Saltwater Inn. You were lucky enough to reserve one of the last rooms available back when you impulsively decided to attend the festival. The bed was made for someone Maren's size, so you overpaid, but it was worth it to be within walking distance from the festival. You ask Maren where he was sleeping that night while you both remove your shoes, only for him to reply that he had been camping out. At that point you weren't surprised by his answer.

“Wellll…” you flopped back onto the oversized bed. “If you wanted to…you could, you know…stay here? With me?”

Maren flops back next to you, making you bounce and giggle.

“Wellll…” he mimics your tone. “If you're gonna twist my arm about it….” He flashes you his signature grin.

Faces inches from each other, looking into his sparkling eyes, you're suddenly and totally overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. But you haven't kissed anyone in years, and he's so attractive, you don't even know how to begin to process that urge. Cheeks warming, you sit up abruptly and clear your throat.

“You said you could teach me to play if you had a guitar,” you say.

“That I did.” Maren sits up and picks the guitar up off the floor. It's huge, jet black and crimson and covered in stickers. He gently sets it in your arms. “It's a bit big for you, but you should still manage.”

Maren goes over the basics, then spends a few minutes trying to position your fingers. When you still struggle to mimic him, he changes strategies.

“Here,” he says, and picks you up by the hips, making you yelp in surprise. His large arms coming to rest over yours. Like this, it's easier for him to reposition your fingers on the frets. Your face quickly gets hot, but Maren is entirely focused on teaching, his grin more relaxed than it has been all day.

Despite everything you've gone through since meeting him, you don't think he's ever been as attractive as he is when he's guiding you through a song. The intent focus on his face, the warmth of his skin against yours, his low voice praising you as you do well–it all makes your head spin. He goes at a slow, steady pace, teaching you one section at a time, until it’s an hour later and you’re playing your very first song.

You’re brimming with excitement as you finish. It’s your first time playing music, and you think you’re in love. You look up at Maren with a sense of awe and wonder. You created music, almost by yourself. He seems genuinely thrilled to have shown you, too.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says. “Did you like it?”

“Maren, I loved it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says.

You set the guitar aside and lean back against him, and he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you.

“I’m glad I met you, Maren,” you say.

“Me too.”

You crane your neck back to look up at him. He grins, but it’s not as intense as usual. It’s soft, in a weird way. That feeling of wanting to kiss him washes over you, and Maren acts like he can sense it, because he cups your cheek.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?” he almost whispers.

“I–I. Um, I.” You giggle nervously. “I think you’re really hot, and I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” He leans closer. “What’s stopping you?”

“Nerves, mostly.”

He chuckles. “Alright, then. How ‘bout I kiss you first?”

You nod, heart racing so fast you think it’ll bruise your sternum. Maren’s thumb strokes your cheek as he takes in your flustered expression. Then he leans in. You shut your eyes, and a moment later, feel the smoothness of his lips pressing to yours.

Tingling, burning warmth courses through your veins at the contact, a taste of his fire. You open your eyes just as he pulls away, his face flushed like yours.

“Fuck,” you say, surprising him into laughter.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Again?”

“Please, yes–”

He leans in again, and you shift in his lap to straddle one of his giant thighs, lips slightly parted as he kisses you a second time. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck, and you stretch up to meet him so he doesn’t have to bend so much. The second kiss is longer, lighting up your entire body with its passion. He’s not as intense as you expected, almost hesitant in his kissing. You’re not sure you’re doing well, either, but he stays put, so you gain confidence, parting your lips slightly and humming in approval. His tongue probes out to trace your lips, and you gasp before sliding out your own to meet his.

At the touch, you feel the blood rush between your legs. It’s a bit ticklish and wet and so warm, and as Maren closes his mouth to suck on your lower lip, a soft moan trickles out of you before you can help it.

You want him badly, you want all of him. You can feel the desire pouring out of him, too, that inner flame blazing bright and consuming you. He seemed confident throughout the day, but you can’t help but sense that you’re both seeking a kind of solace in the other. It’s been so long since you’ve been close to someone, especially like this, and he’s working up a need in you that’s impossible to ignore.

Maren moves his hands down your back and to your ass, squeezing before tilting you back slightly so he can deepen the kiss, tongue filling your mouth. His kisses turn messy and you do your best to keep up with his heated, dizzying pace, a second moan breaking free when he moves to kiss your neck. You tilt your head to give him easier access, his head filling the space between as he starts to suck on the skin, making a jolt rush straight to your center. You can barely feel the scrape of his sharp teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Maybe it would be dangerous, but you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Ah…Maren,” you breathe, “Bite me, I–I want you to bite me.”

“Huh? Wait,” he pulls away, giving you both a chance to get your bearings. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my teeth are sharp.”

“Just a nibble?” you plead. “Small and shallow?”

“What are you, a masochist?” Your face burns, but he’s grinning. “Hah! Alright, but hold still, sweetheart. I’ll try not to make you bleed.”

“What are you, afraid of a little blood?” you challenge.

Instantly one of his hands is in your hair, gripping tight by the roots to keep your head still. You moan at the roughness, feeling his grin against the base of your neck before the razor points of his teeth rake your skin. You squirm, and his other hand comes up to grab your shoulder to keep you from moving. The anticipation rockets your arousal from a spark to a burning need, but thankfully he doesn’t make you wait.

There’s a slight, sweet blossoming of pain as his teeth barely sink in. You gasp, legs squeezing his thigh, your breath hitching again when his tongue follows, soothing the sting. He licks back and forth along the spot before slicking his way back to your neck to suck another bruise there, and you can’t help it, you start grinding on his thigh to grant yourself some much-needed relief.

“Fuck,” Maren curses in surprise, pulling back to watch you. The sight must make him impatient, though, because a moment later he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on his crotch. There’s a very large, very hard bulge there, far bigger than your hand. You don’t hesitate to stroke him–you have to work your whole arm to do so–and are rewarded with the beautiful sound of his first moan. His hips cant forward, pushing into your hand, and he’s panting slightly.

“Lie back,” you instruct, and Maren complies, lying back onto the bed. You reposition yourself between his legs so you can grind your crotch directly onto his bulge. He throws his head back and gasps at the same time as you do, his hands coming to grab your hips and pull you onto him harder.

Before you risked buying a small, discreet vibrator, you used to get off by grinding on stacked pillows. The sensation of grinding on Maren, however, was so much better that you found yourself whimpering. His bulge was large enough to provide a firm pressure against your entire vulva, and his breathy, restrained moans only fueled your need. After all the teasing of his kisses, you were already worked up, and it didn’t take you much longer before you were rapidly climbing up and over the peak, a soft cry as you cum.

The orgasm wracks your body, and you hump him desperately throughout it until it finally subsides. You go still, leaning against his belly and catching your breath.

“Why’d you stop?” Maren raises his head to look at you. His brows rise in realization. “Did you cum?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant. His toothy smirk makes you feel tingly all over again, and you crawl up his body to kiss him some more.

You make out feverishly, all earlier hesitation gone, replaced by hot, needy kisses and nibbles. You pull away just long enough to take off your shirt, throwing it to the side before your bra follows. Maren’s hands are on your breasts in an instant, kneading the soft flesh and making you moan into his mouth. It turns to a sharp cry as his thumbs find your nipples.

“Ya like that?” he husks, and you nod quickly, going to kiss him again and whimpering against his lips when he continues to rub the sensitive nubs. He grants you a brief reprieve as his hands slide down your sides and hips, fingers hooking under the band of your pants, and you break away to remove them and your underwear.

Maren slides a finger between your lower lips, eyes widening at the amount of slick he feels. “Shit, you are so wet.”

“Maren, please–”

You don’t need to say anything more. He slides his middle finger through your folds, up and down, up and down, building up an anticipation that shatters as his finger sinks inside you.

“Ahh!” you cry out as he pushes it deeper, grabbing his forearm to stabilize yourself. His hands are so large, fingers so thick that he can reach all the way to your cervix without stretching. You clench down on the thick digit, dizzy at how easily just one fills you up.

Maren starts to pump his finger slowly, and pleasure shoots through you. The muscles of his forearm flex beneath your hand as he soon fingers you into a mess, your legs shaking as you grind into his palm. He’s biting his lip at the sight of you coming undone on just his hand.

“Kuh, keep going!” you pant desperately. “More, more!”

“More?” he pushes his ring finger at your entrance. “Like this?”

“Yes! Nnnh–!” Your back arches as he pushes the second finger inside you along with the first, the stretch persistent and pleasant and filling. The slick, wet squelch rings in your ears. You rub your clit desperately with one finger, eyes rolling back.

“Shit,” he curses. “Look at you, so needy. Who woulda thought under all that, you’re just a needy little slut?”

Maren slides his other hand up your side to flick at your nipple with his thumb, and his fingers curl abruptly inside you, making you cry out in surprise and delight, the mounting pleasure spiking in intensity. He rubs insistently at your g-spot, and this time, when your orgasm slams into you, he can feel it fluttering around his fingers.

“Ah, ahh–!” You curl forward, almost weak from the intensity, shivers going through you along with the throbbing of your clit. “Coming!”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “It’s cute how easily you cum.”

“I want my third one to be from you fucking me,” you state intently. His eyes go wide a moment before he laughs.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“That’s right. I want you to make me regret ever having run into you. I want to think about tonight for the rest of my life.”

Maren’s blush deepens, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he grins. “You keep catching me off guard, you know that? Alright, then. You think you can take it, then I’ll give it to you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and uses the slicked digits to tease your nipples. The stimulation is different with the new lubrication, but in a good way, a sigh falling from your lips as he works heat into your body anew. You take his hand, pulling it up to your mouth, and lick the sticky fluid from his fingers. His breath hitches as you surprise him once more, a tender moan coming out when you start to suck on his fingers, one at a time.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Maren groans, his other hand reaching down to undo his zipper. He hastily shoves his boxers down to pull out his cock, jerking himself to the sight and sensation of your little mouth on his fingers. “How–how do you want to do this? I don’t have a condom.”

You take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “I have the implant.” You glance over your shoulder and flush hot all over at the sight of his massive cock in his hand. Naturally he’s proportional, and there’s no way it’s going to fit as he is. “Um…you’re huge, Maren. I don’t think it’s gonna–wait, you can make yourself smaller, right?”

He looks conflicted at the idea. “How small are we talking?”

You weren’t sure what his aversion to being smaller was, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Thinking for a moment, you offer, “what if I mount you, and you just shrink until it goes in? If you get to a point where you don’t want to keep going, you can stop and we’ll do something else.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Maren nods, seemingly put at ease.

You tug at his vest. He chuckles and removes it, then his pants and boxers. As soon as he’s naked, you throw your arms around his neck and start making out with him again.

“You know,” you say between kisses, “perk of you–being smaller–can kiss and fuck me–at the same time.”

He hums in response, not outright rejecting the idea. At his current height, riding him meant he couldn’t kiss you without breaking his spine. But at his current height, nothing was going to happen anyway.

Maren’s heated kisses work you back into a frenzy of need until you’re breaking away, licking the large scar on his left pectoral before kissing down his chest and belly, until your ass is pressed against his cock. It’s so big it touches your lower back, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

“Okay,” you say, taking hold of his cock and positioning yourself over it. Maren sucks in a breath at the touch, and you follow suit as you press the blunt head against your vulva. It’s like trying to fuck an eggplant, it’s just not gonna happen, though the wet, smooth skin does feel good against you. “I’m ready.”

Maren nods and lets out a sigh. You feel a slight shift, not immediately realizing he’s changing, until a second later when you realize his head no longer reaches the pillow. He shrinks slowly, losing inch by inch, and you wiggle your hips a little to feel if he’s small enough yet.

You both gasp as he starts to penetrate you, but he can’t get further than the head.

“A-Almost,” you stammer. Another inch of height off, and you’re able to sink down onto him slowly. “There! Yes!”

Overall, Maren’s only lost about four feet of height. At 11 feet tall he’s still huge in comparison to you, and you’re a bit surprised at yourself.

He must be, too, because he asks, “It’s not too much?”

“I think–I can handle–nnng…” You lose focus as he bottoms out. His cock is still huge, bigger than anyone you’ve been with or any toy you’ve used, and the stretch hurts just a little bit. But he seemed so reluctant to get smaller, you don’t want to push him any more than he has. You just need some time to adjust, and you tell him as much.

“Ya sure, babe?”

“Yeah…It’s, it’s kind of good like this…” you hang your head down, looking at the point where your bodies are connected. There’s still several inches of him left out. He’s so thick that the broad head of him pushes firmly against your g-spot and doesn’t let you forget it’s there. You lift your hips experimentally, and the movement makes you both gasp again, a jolt of intertwined heat.

“Fuck, how are you taking so much? Little thing like you,” Maren’s hands rest on your hips as you start moving up and down. “You like big dick, huh, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, yes,” you pant as you start riding him in earnest. “Oh–oh, fuck, Maren…”

“You’re more wild than you let on. I think you’ve been waiting for something like this, huh? Waiting for someone like me.” His breath is heavy, his husky words encouraging. “So wound up when we first met–turns out all you needed was to let loose, hmm?”

He’s not even dirty talking, not really, but the way he speaks to you just makes you wetter. You’re able to keep going thanks to it, keeping the friction from getting uncomfortable. Panting, you roll your hips as you ride him, grinding him where you need him most.

“Tell me how it feels, tell me how that big dick feels,” Maren says.

“Good! Feels so good!”

He rewards you with a sudden, hard spank, and you gasp.

“You got tighter! You are a masochist.”

He smacks you again, making you cry out. “Maren!”

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name!”

Smack!

“Maren-!”

Your pace slows as you tire–the festival has you drained–but Maren doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips, bracing his legs against the bed to thrust up into you. His tongue pokes out slightly as he pants, bouncing you on his cock, and you’re able to rub your clit now that he’s picked up the slack.

He moans, grip tightening on your hips as his pace picks up. Each thrust shoves you closer and closer to the edge until you crash over it with a strangled cry of his name, orgasm ripping through you.

“I got ya,” he pants, his hurried thrusts work you through your orgasm, head spinning at the feel of your walls spasming around him. “Gonna…ah, shit, I’m gonna cum…!”

He stops abruptly, pulling you down onto him so hard it hurts a little, head thrown back and moaning from deep in his gut. His cock throbs as he empties inside you, and then there’s no sound left but the both of you catching your breath.

He softens inside you, but is still so large he doesn’t fall out until you get off of him. You collapse next to his side, resting your head against him, a thick haze of relief and sated pleasure fogging up your brain.

Maren’s arm slings over your body, pulling you closer. You look up at him. He smiles when your gazes meet, that charming, devilish grin that got you here.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Never been better.” You match his grin. “Next round, can you fuck me against the wall?”

“On the wall, on the table, on the floor…” he trails off, and you both giggle. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“One more day of the festival left.”

You cuddle into his side. “Will you spend it with me?”

Maren’s gaze softens. “Of course, sweetheart.”

It turns out that Maren has far more stamina than you do. He puts you through your paces, and you’re exhausted and sore the next day, leading him to practically carry you around. The final show is incredible, and when the day comes to a close and it’s time to part ways, you tear up a little. Maren’s as cheerful as ever, but you can see past the front he puts out just a little, now–you know he’s bummed, too.

“Keep your chin up, sweetheart. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.” He says, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Promise me you won’t miss a guy like me too much?”

You smile and nod, even as you lie through your teeth. “I promise.”

#mdni #nsft #maren x reader #YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT. MAREN X READER #young maren #its so...aaaaaa #im so happy rn ZEN YOURE THE BEST

29 notes · View notes

royalty-subway · 3 years ago

Note

Plz,,, scenario where reader is sent to Hisui instead of Ingo. And then they come back (maybe missing some memories?)

Oof. Not gonna lie, but I kinda wanted to do something like this for a while-

Like, where the s/o just time-traveled to Hisui and came back. Just to see how the twins would react.

Now I have an excuse to do it. :D

I decided to write for all the twins. Since I couldn’t tell if you just wanted Ingo or all of them-

Also, this is angsty. Not the most angsty thing I wrote. It has at least a bittersweet ending, so nothing too serious to leave a warning.

Sordward

I mean, while you disappeared, he probably didn’t notice the first few days. But as soon as he tried to contact you, either by text or by visiting your house, he got more concerned. He desperately tried to find you, but you were nowhere to be found.

But he assumes that wherever you are, surely you can take care of yourself. More so if you're the champion of the Galar region. So no need to fear. I mean, he’s still scared shitless, but he tries not to show it much by failing and showing it by begging people to find you and crying himself to sleep.

His and your Pokemons are probably the only reason why he isn’t as panicky about it because they gave him comfort of some kind (or maybe it made him more panicky since you could be in the wild area with zero Pokemon on your side, but maybe you got help from someone or received some Pokeballs).

He just sort of waited until something happened, whether you or someone found you or you just came back around suddenly. While keeping himself a bit isolated without even realizing it. His worries just kept him busy.

That was until you showed up again, at complete random. At first, he probably took you as someone that’s… poverty-stricken; based on your appearance. But looking at your face confirms that it was actually you. You just look like you survived hell and came back. Which definitely struck something within him; maybe fear or relief that you were okay?

He’ll just semi-scream your name to get your attention and ask "WHAT IN THE BLOODY FRESH HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!" He tries his best to avoid physical contact, and yet, he needs to confirm if this was real or fake so he probably ends up grabbing both of your arms/shoulders for that confirmation (and perhaps to comfort you in a way).

But perhaps this action made you uncomfortable, since this peepee hairstyle motherfucker you just met was touching your arms/shoulders. Who wouldn’t freak out at that moment? So if you push him away, he’ll do the same thing out of instinct.

And now he’s confused. Are you… The same person he was thinking about? Or just a random bystander that looks like his s/o? That would be extremely awkward if that’s the case. But eh, you’re now stating that you have zero memory of anything, so that explains a lot.

Which, yes, it does surprise and pains him to hear. And he sort of blamed himself for everything. Maybe if he saved you sooner, perhaps you’d still have your memories. Eh, too late now. But he’ll just try to explain everything, that you were his friend/partner, and you both did a lot of things together. He’ll try his best to return your memories as time goes on, but at least you’re back now, which conceals his worries… With zero memory, which still makes him sad.

Shielbert

He probably noticed by day one that you've gone missing. And he desperately tries to find you, even getting his older brother involved, but nothing comes out. The only things he could find were your stuff; like your clothes and your Pokemons.

With that being said, he’ll probably end up wearing any of your jackets or hoodies, either in private or in public (even if they don’t typically have the red accent he used to wear, it’s a bit of a bizarre thought and sight, but it doesn’t matter to him, it's just to remember you).

He sort of cut nearly all human interaction as well, besides from his older brother and from his/your Pokemons (yes, he’s taking care of your Pokemons). Not complete isolation, he does go out in public, but he doesn’t talk much.

This probably goes to a point where he has nightmares about you dying. It makes him think that you actually died, or maybe you did? Who fucking knows, you’ve been gone for years. If you’ve been kidnapped, then surely you’re gone at this rate. He doesn’t even know what’s real or fake anymore and these thoughts upset him deeply.

Well, until you came back out of nowhere. The first thing he saw was either your face or your torn clothes. And he somewhat hesitates to get near you because of those dreams he’s been having. This could simply be another dream or another hallucination.

But shrugging that off, he’ll run up to you while screaming your name and crying, and hug you pretty tightly. Of course, you’re confused because this stranger somehow knew your name and is currently hugging you… Maybe he knows you? Perhaps he’s familiar to you.

And then he’ll probably drag you into his house to give you warm and proper clothes (since your clothes are very messy and you’re probably freezing cold). Until he sort of noticed your behavior… Aren’t you happy to see him? Why are you pretending like you don’t even know him? Are you okay?

That’s kinda when you explained to him that you have no memory of anything. Which genuinely made him flinch and have a very painful expression. And he nearly cried again. But he’ll apologize for his behavior (since surely you’d call the cops if this was an actual stranger to you) and he’ll try to explain himself, stating that he’s your friend/partner. That you’ve been gone for years and he did nothing but sorrow over your disappearance. And that he was just so overjoyed with you coming back.

He seems genuine when he says this. And knowing this, he’ll take everything slower now since that’s kinda what someone with amnesia needs. Yes, it hurts him knowing that you’ll perhaps never get your memory back. But at least you’re here again. And yes, he’ll give you all of your stuff back in hopes that’ll jog your memory- (he’ll give whatever he has to get your memories back)

Emmet

… I mean, you probably expect him to cry or be in extreme distress because you just suddenly disappeared (since that would’ve happened if Ingo disappeared). I suppose in a way, you’re kinda right. And yet, it’s not the full truth.

Like, here’s the thing, he doesn’t feel anything. Not applying that he doesn’t give a damn about you, more like, he’s feeling empty; emotionless… And yet, this feeling isn’t exactly new to him. As if he knew this feeling for his entire life, but wasn’t aware of it until it’s brought up.

This feeling… makes him sad and pissed at himself. And yet he’s not? He doesn’t know how to feel about the emptiness, but he doesn’t like it and he’s crying. Yes, he’s distraught about you disappearing, but maybe he’ll show more of his sad side if it was Ingo (look, Ingo is his brother and he means a lot to him, give him some slack, he’ll still feel empty if it was Ingo instead of you)

And despite the fact that he tries his best to live on with his life (making it seem like he can handle himself alone with no help). He needs moral support from literally anyone, either from Ingo or Sordward himself, anyone. Just as long as someone can support him and stop him from doing something… He’ll regret.

Oh, and it’s a bit difficult to determine whenever he noticed you being gone. It depends on how many times you visit him. He would try to find you, but he couldn’t find you anywhere and he hopes that you’ll come back at some point. The longer he waits, the more it damages him.

Even with you coming back doesn’t exactly make him feel anything (or at least the first few seconds, he’ll wince more than anything and continue with his day). Since this could simply be another hallucination or dream he’s been getting, you could be another fake like the rest of them. So unless someone says “IT’S REALLY THEM-” to him, he’s not exactly buying it at first glance.

His reaction would depend, he could either simply stand there and do nothing, walk up to you and apologize (he thinks it was his fault that you left), or walk up to you and hug you (just for confirmation that it’s actually you).

… And then you’ll probably ask who the fuck he is since you don’t even know this white man. Which is where you’ll probably see him actually reacting or showing a genuinely shocked expression of loss of hope again. But he still tries to put a brave face on and admit that he’s your friend/partner, until you just disappeared from existence.

He doesn’t really know what to do. He’ll probably cry a bit or something. Of course, he’ll try his best to give you your memories back. But he still doesn’t know how to do it. I assume the best he can do is stay around you to form some sort of friendship with you again. But hey, you being here is better than you not being here.

Ingo

So if we're talking about Ingo never appearing in the Hisui region. He’d never know of the existence of it. So you disappearing instead of him would be a concern to him, since he doesn’t even know where you are or would even know about Hisui.

He probably didn’t expect anything until a few days or weeks later. Depending how many times you visit him. He probably thought you were just busy, though. Until like, 1 month pass or something. He’ll probably become more worried about you.

He would try to find you, but there’s nothing much he can do. He’s not a detective or any of that sort. The best he can do is to look for clues about where you went. And he found fuck all besides your Pokemons. Which didn’t help him since even they didn’t know what happened to you.

So the most he can do is take care of your Pokemons while you're gone somewhere. Yes, he’s worried about you. But even he knows that he can’t do anything. He’s hopeless unless he finds something that will lead to your disappearance… Where were you?

… That was until you came back, just randomly appearing in the subway somewhere. He flinched at that. He couldn’t really believe it since he thought this was some sort of trap or prank set by someone. Or if it was a dream. Plus, you… Appeared in a worse state; like, you seem confused about your surroundings with messy clothes.

So it probably wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he thought you were someone else at first, until he had a good look at you. You looked… Exactly like them, even the same name, voice, height and all. Until he realizes that it is truly you, he’s pretty overjoyed about it (on the inside, he doesn’t express it as much as he wanted to).

However… You don’t seem to remember anything. Not even him. Which definitely caught his attention. It seems like you lost your memory (or some of it). You don’t even recall meeting him, ever. Which did hurt him to hear, made him cry a little.

But he’ll try his best to give you context in the most blunt way possible, he was either your friend/partner (he’ll most likely say “friend” because saying you're the partner of someone that has zero memory of you doesn’t seem like a good idea). And that you’ve been gone for a really long time. Whether you believe him or not would depend, but he’s telling the truth. And he doesn’t mind taking it slow if you’re willing to give him a chance.

He gives you back your Pokemons and tries his best to gain your memories back, whether it works or not. He at least tried his best. He’ll still be by your side, even if you guys were partners once but currently friends due to this circumstance. It doesn’t matter to him since you’re finally back now.

116 notes · View notes

rightpastnowhere · 2 years ago

Text

bayonetta 3 spoilers !!!!!!

okay before i go to bed i'm gonna make a quick post about my feelings because i'm tired of seeing all these shallow n one-sided arguments and stances in the fandom

spoilers for the plot and ending below the cut!!!!!

so i didn't like the ending. without going into the ship discourse (for now) like... i just didn't. it would have been a good ending in the context of any other series, i think, that WASN'T bayonetta. and i'm all for breaking the mold in a series, honest to god, but it just seemed so odd?? the bayonetta games have emotional moments, i won't say otherwise. the bit with jeanne rescuing bayonetta from the eye of jubileus in bayo 1??? that shit got me !!! and the games have themes of grief and accepting loss and all that whatnot.

but also, all of the games have triumphant endings full of action and chaos and punching gods into the sun!!! bayonetta is always shown as one of the strongest characters in the world, and seeing her broken down like this - over and over, with all of the variants, and then again in the end - it just felt disheartening. it kind of outweighed the bittersweet effect of it, and just made me depressed. it felt hopeless, and while that sort of ending works for a lot of series and i know that it's a wonderful tool of storytelling, it just... i don't know, came out of left field. but that's my personal opinion, not a writing critique!! i'm not saying that the ending was good or bad, should or should not have happened, so don't attack me for trying to make some absolute opinion, or say i think i know everything. i don't.

okay now onto the character drama.

i feel a need to preface this by saying that i LOVE luka as a character!! i love him so much!!! he's so silly and goofy and sweet, but genuinely smart!!! he's so caring to baby cereza in bayo 1, and he cares about bayo, and he's a sweetheart. i also have no problems with the bayo/luka ship. i have no issues with bayo being with a guy, i've headcanoned her as bi since the first game.

all that said: i don't like the way they handled it in this game. putting aside the fact that i'm a major bayojeanne shipper - and i am actively putting aside my bitterness, i acknowledge that it's there, but that's just me being a shipper and has no place in this analysis - i don't think it was handled well. to me, it just feels like it came out of nowhere. in the first game, they have some chemistry, sure, but it always kinda feels like just teasing. luka is obviously Down Horrendous for her, despite trying to hate her, and bayonetta kinda leads him along, but it seems to just stick around flirting/lust on both sides. they obviously care about each other - and i love that!! my heart clenched when luka was thrown out of the window, and bayo tried to reach for him - but it seemed to read more as platonic, to me. and in bayonetta 2, if my memory serves me, they don't interact as much? he doesn't seem to be as significant aside from expediting plot? again, it's been a couple years, so forgive me if i'm mistaken. it just seemed like their relationship fell to the wayside

because of that, it just feels so rushed. they go from friends who flirt with each other and may or may not be serious about that flirting to... multiversal soulmates???? what?????? (i don't fully understand that adam and eve stuff but. what.) and they try to hint at it through the game, but they're only on-screen together later in the game??? and the way they talk about each other feels like the beginning of something, instead of the culmination they were obviously going for. it just feels like they pulled this plot out of their asses without using any of the things that had been built up from previous games. i just... honestly it caught me off guard. i was surprised, and not in the normal plot twist way. instead of "oh wow i didn't see that coming!! but looking back i can see the setup!!!" it was "oh wow i didn't see that coming, also what game is this?" DON'T GET ME WRONG it's all cool concepts!!! i love cool star wolf luka's design, i love multiverse shenaniganery, and i love bittersweet endings - but it just feels so wildly different than the previous two games. i don't know.

to be honest, tho, bayonetta settling down with anyone within canon just feels weird. like i wasn’t going into this expecting a bayojeanne confession either. these games have always sort of felt... i don’t know, disconnected? from romance plots? very much “bayonetta doesn’t need a romance, she’s strong and independent, she has her friends and her guns” type vibes. like good for her!!! it just seems very, again, out of left field

and, now's my time to be just a bit petty - jeanne got seriously sidelined in this game. i love her little spy mission, it's so cute and silly and shows how nerdy she can be, but after that, she's just... there. she has some cute scenes with bayo with some banter, and they fight together, but then she gets... killed for a plot twist?? alone??? her last word is "cereza" and we hardly see bayonetta mourning her???? she comes back for a second to help fight and then they barely get to speak together before she's gone again??????? i just. she's one of the strongest witches out there, and got stabbed in the back in a cutscene???? and then she's basically forgotten. whether you ship bayojeanne or not, you have to admit that they're incredibly important to each other. they're the last of their clan, they continuously risk their lives for each other, and they even live together for fuck's sake!! bayo's closest and oldest friend got sidelined with a glossed-over plot-twist death. it feels like such a disservice. and i'm not gonna lie, i was a little upset with how in bayo 2 she hardly gets any screentime after being saved, but also she'd just gotten back from hell, she needed to rest. and she even comes back for the boss fight!!! home girl gets on a jet!!!!! and then we get her in a cut scene at the end!!!!!!! it just feels so unfair to her.

ALSO. ME NOT WANTING BAYO TO END UP WITH LUKA IS NOT BIPHOBIA. I REPEAT. IT'S NOT BIPHOBIA. I AM OKAY WITH BAYONETTA BEING WITH A MAN. I JUST WISH THE WRITING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER!!!!!!

anyway that was NOT short thoughts and i need to go to sleep

edit 11/4: someone pointed out that the arch eve and adam thing wasn’t just bayo and luka, thank you for telling me (i was very confused), but still… what was that?? also??? this whole thing is weird

#oh boy #i've never like............ put an opinion like this on tumblr before #i tried to be honest and fair and not let my knee jerk reactions and opinions about this all interfere #like yes i'm a fan of certain pairings but i can also understand when a pairing i DON'T like isn't given the writing and treatment it deser #***deserves #the gameplay looks fantastic and fun though #and i love bayo's design #anyway!! please don't start any toxic discourse :))#bayonetta #bayonetta 3

16 notes · View notes

quaranmine · 3 years ago

Text

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft season 8 #quara fanfic

199 notes · View notes