#i will be writing a full fic on this later though ehe

[hypostatic-oath]

Hiii! Welcome back!!! After reading your recent post, i had a thought about what if the isekai'd Overseer was founded wandering around Fontaine when the Traveler had yet to reach said nation. Do Focalors still trying to arrest and judge the Overseer, or do they belong to the category of the divine that she knows not to make an enemy of?

Hiii! Thank you so much, for the welcome and for the ask :D

Oh, I like this one. I'n usually afraid of writing characters before I have read all their lore (not me struggling with the locked voicelines for Neuvillette oof), but I think that Furina has provided the answer already - she is very much ready to put the Overseer on trial, and to make a big show out of it too. Why? Because of what happens with the Traveler, of course!

When the Traveler arrives in Fontaine, they are already known far and wide - Furina herself recognizes them and comes to "greet" them personally, albeit in her own way. I'd say that SAGAU Furina definitely knows that the Traveller is the First Vessel. There is no way she doesn't, either by means of being an Archon, or simply by word of mouth or the Steambird, in the same way she'd heard other things about the Traveler.

And what does she do as soon as we step foot in Fontaine?

Yep. An isekai'd Overseer would very much need to get their Phoenix Wright impersonation ready. I do believe she doesn't have ill intent, or that she actually wants to sentence the Overseer - it's more of a mixture of "hey, look at me!" and "I'm acknowledging your importance by coming here personally and making a fuss". One should feel honored, really. Furina likes entertainment, and I do believe that her theatrical worldview and the outlook of a lot of Overseers out there (guilty as charged) are rather similar - for us as players, the world of Teyvat really is a stage where a story plays out - better yet, it's a story wherein we can control the main character to make the story go further and interact with the characters! Of course, the difference lies in the fact that for an Overseer, the world of Teyvat really is just a game... while for Furina it's still her reality, no matter how many theatrical elements she adds to it.

As for whether she'd recognize the Overseer as a divine being she shouldn't make an enemy of... depends entirely on the way the Overseer interacts with her. We've seen her mask slip when the Traveler accepts her challenge ("Fighting gods? I've got a resume"). We've seen her take a step back in other occasions, too. But it all depends on whether the Overseer chooses to indulge her. The more drama-loving you are, the more you indulge in the theatrics, the further she'll go! After all, she's just found a kindred spirit. She's very excited if you play along! But if you're a no-nonsense Overseer with no time for her antics... she might just call in Neuvillette to accompany her the next time she needs to speak with you. Or she'll avoid the meeting altogether - forgive her, she's nervous.

[writingmeraki]

hurt hearts — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you learn mingyu has a big heart ( and chest—) and he's terribly hurt while you might just beat the shit out of him.

( or mingyu's heart was already yours before you even knew it )

pairing : secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, acquaintances stage. genre : fluff, angsty. warnings : mentions of injuries, treating wounds ( inaccurate forgive me🙏) mingyu ( he's a warning ).

a/n : the double update as promised hehe also the pic is not even related to the drabble but I just had to use it yk?? thank you to @etherealyoungk for feeding my delusions. also this got angsty quite quick 😭 ???( might do a summer fic with this mingyu hehehe ) pls I was also like naurr why is it so sad suddenly but eh it's fine. take this as some sort of teaser for the full secret agent mingyu fic I guess! and yes I will never get fed up of writing these two <3 let me know what you think of this mwah 💌

word count : 2.7k

“Are you fucking stupid?!?”

Silence enveloped the room as you asked in a voice laced with agitation.

It was all whispers of panic and chaos while you took in the scene in front of you, quiet and in your thoughts, but the more you thought of it, the more you got enraged.

“Do you even realise what could have happened?"

It seemed as though the wound on his chest was glaring at you as you spoke, unable to look away from it as it continued to bleed. You winced, frowning more as you shook your head.

Mingyu, on the other hand, like the true annoyance he was, blinked in surprise as he heard you cuss. It was rare you did, it was rare you talked actually, choosing to only answer in small replies.

Or maybe you just hated him because he swears he’s seen you not only talk but also laugh and giggle with Vernon and Chan, even Seungcheol!

He didn’t want to admit it before but now he can, he absolutely disliked the fact that you were more nonchalant to him than any other person. Was he the problem?

No, no negative thoughts right now. Perhaps you were just shy around him.

Right because a shy person would definitely be glaring at him with all the rage enough to just burn him with a gaze.

Who was he trying to convince? You hated him and for all he knew, he was just a nuisance in your life.

“Where’s Wonwoo?! Is Dr.Jeon not there?” You sat him down on the lounge chair in the agency building. It was supposed to mimic how an actual office building would be, hence they even did the extra and added the typical reception desk and waiting area at the ground floor.

Wonwoo? Since when were you on a first name basis with Wonwoo?

He frowned at that, he didn't want to admit it but it annoyed him just a little. Though. He did have other bigger problems right now.

Like the gash on his upper chest that was bleeding. But it seemed the adrenaline had dimmed down the pain. It felt more numb if anything.

“He-he left. I mean his shift is over there's no one—”

“How the fuck is there no other doctor on duty?! In a fucking place like this you'd expect at least one how—”

You pinched your nose and took a deep breath. You were on the verge of possibly killing someone.

Mingyu was bleeding and you needed to think.

“Seungkwan. Get me the first aid kit. Chan, go get some water. And you-”

You looked back at Mingyu in question,

“Can you walk?”

Instead of answering, he nodded curtly, not really wanting to provoke you than he already had. He knew when and where to speak up when he should. At least sometimes he did.

“Great, let's go to my room.”

[ A few moments later ]

Your office space was very…you. It was like a reflection of what he thinks you are.

Your artefacts, some polaroids with people in few and more so sceneries. It resembled a lot of you but also not enough to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to know more.

He sat down on the sofa, a light pink coloured one, one that stood out in the monochrome room. But it was nice. It was pretty.

He also thinks you look pretty, even though you were tense, eyebrows scrunched as you cut the bandage tape precisely.

You look pretty all the time though.

“I'll need you to remove your shirt.”

Mingyu would love to hear so much from you, and wanted to hear you say so many things for him. This was one of them for sure, but definitely not in the circumstances he wishes.

“I-what? ” He chokes up, immediately sitting up from his leaned back position, one you forced him into when he came there.

You put down the bandage after you finished, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, now crossing your arms.

“How else do you want me to treat your wound?”

“You're-you’ll be treating it?”

“Does it look like there's anyone else right now who can? If you're scared, just trust me, I uh- I have experience from treating my own and others as well.”

You said it firmly because you realised the unsurety in his voice might be right. He didn't know that you knew basic first aid and actually more, it was a requirement for most agents but perhaps it was different here.

Mingyu did trust you. That wasn't what he doubted. He doubted himself, whether he'd be able to handle you touching him in any way. He's terrified he might pass out.

“Okay, now I'll need you to actually remove your shirt, I'll help if you-”

“NO!-uh no I'll do it myself.”

He immediately raised his hands and began unbuttoning, as the shirt got more loose, you focused on how the wound was.

It was a slice, not a stab luckily, so it wouldn't have caused as much damage as a stab would. But it still was damage that hurt.

He hissed in pain as his shirt moved away from his hurt chest, the wound being open to the air.

Slowly, he removed his other arm and finally got his blood soaked shirt out. He questioned where to put it without saying anything as he looked around but you just grabbed it and tossed it in the dustbin.

It was one of his favourites.

Seeing the slight pout on his face, you rolled your eyes because of course, Mingyu would find that to be an issue and not the fact that he was bleeding out.

“I'll get you another one.”

That made him look up at you, to which his eyes widened,

“Uh no I-”

“Shut up.”

You finished preparing the cotton to clean up his wound first, you turned to face him and for a brief moment you paused.

You didn't expect what was in front of you. Mingyu being shirtless was expected of course, but his toned torso and wait…were those abs??

You cleared your throat when you realised you might have been staring a little too long.

It wasn't like you weren't used to seeing people with muscular bodies or so. It was natural in your field for people to be fit.

But Mingyu. Holy shit, he looked like someone personally took their time on him.

“Uhm, okay so I'll just clean up your wound first and then disinfect it, then just bandage it up alright?”

Your voice sounded a lot less angry than before. Actually it sounded more timid if anything. It made Mingyu both shocked and curious as to why suddenly you'd seem so…nervous?

You moved to sit beside him, trying your best to not let your eyes waver more than they already have.

Unfortunately for you, fortunate for Mingyu, your eyes did wander and in fact lingered a little too long on his exposed chest. Along with his torso.

And he noticed.

And he realised.

Gulping slightly, no ordinary person would know but Mingyu did and the glint in his eyes shifted to something more confident, you raised your hand and gently began to clean the open wound.

It seemed it was not as deep as you initially thought.

Holy shit, I'm touching his chest.

You're not a teenager for goodness sake pull yourself together?!???

But his chest is buff and so- fuck. Fucking hell.

Your internal thoughts were in conflict as you cleaned up his wound, not even realising you were going over a place that was already cleaned.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed yours and you were startled out of your conflict.

“You already cleaned it enough,” Mingyu had to bite his tongue to not slip out any sort of pet names but that didn't stop the small smirk on his face from seeing your somewhat composed demeanour be a little thrown off by his sudden nakedness.

His hand holding yours made it seem like you were burning. It burned when he touched you.

And how would one react to a burn?

They'd move far away from the cause of said burn.

You pulled your hand out and stood up quickly,

“Right, right, I was just uh- making sure. I wouldn't want any infections or anything like that.”

You turned back to your first aid kit, turning your back on him and slightly shook your head.

Pull yourself together. He's just…a guy.

But was he really just any guy?

He was Kim Mingyu. The guy who caused you more stress than anything. The same guy who also would bother you a lot during missions.

And yet he was also the same guy who saved you today. You were ambushed during the mission and outnumbered.

It was you against six. You could handle them practically speaking but you also would have your attention split more than it should be. Meaning you wouldn't be prepared for a seventh guy from out of nowhere.

But Mingyu happened to be able to come there. On time too. As though he was keeping up with you despite being in another room with another problem.

What you didn't know was how quickly he made it out of that room when he heard you were ambushed. How he felt his heart drop when he heard you yelp in pain when you got attacked out of nowhere. How he couldn't actually care about the rest of the mission after that and what he cared about most was getting you out of there. Safely.

He knew perhaps it was risky to have jumped in front of you when you were going to get stabbed but darn it be him than you anytime.

Luckily you were also quick enough to make sure he wasn't actually stabbed and pushed him aside as you gained the extra hand and were able to take down the ambusher.

You were not at all happy with what he did. In fact, going as far as to not talking to him till you reached the agency because you were boiling in rage.

“You know you shouldn't have jumped in between like that.”

You said as you soaked up the cotton in hydrogen peroxide.

“But you would have gotten terribly hurt.” Mingyu frowned at your words. The doubt from before raising as to why you'd been so upset with him when he actually saved you.

“Yes but that would be my fault. I would get hurt in my own fight. I'd bleed and patch it up myself. There would be no one else hurt but me.”

You turned to face him, holding the cotton in your hand as you walked up again towards him.

“Not you who got hurt because of me. I wouldn't feel the…the guilt. You got hurt. Because of me.”

His eyes softened upon hearing your words. It made sense now. You were feeling guilty and that's why you'd been so upset. He thinks he'd feel the same too if you were to get hurt somehow because of him.

“I'm…I'm sorry I didn't think about that but I couldn't just sit back and let you get hurt knowingly, I just, I couldn't do that. Not to you.”

You sat back down to your original position, now having completely different emotions than before. But you weren't sure which you preferred because the current ones were only making you feel more worse if anything.

Lightly pressing the soaked cotton on his open wound, he hissed in pain as the alcohol came in contact with his open skin.

“It's fine Mingyu, you don't need to explain, I get it. I'd also do it. Thank you for…saving me.”

You don't need to thank me.I'd only do it for you though. I'd risk anything for you.

But instead he could only gasp in pain as you continued to clean,

“Yeah, what a time to say thank you when you're causing me only more pain.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but felt a little bad for him due to knowing the pain of hydrogen peroxide to an exposed wound.

“Oh, shut up now you big baby, this will help you.”

“Baby? Are we moving on to pet names now?”

“What??? I didn't- I didn't mean it that-”

“Oh I know, I was just messing with you.”

“You-!”

After a bit more cleaning and more arguing, you got up and grabbed the bandage.

“Now how will I wrap this?”

You questioned as you held it. He also got up, feeling a bit better but you still warned him not to move to much as the wound was not yet wrapped.

Then you got the idea of how to wrap it.

“Listen, what I'll do is wrap this around your entire chest, like the entire upper part alright? I don't have anything else besides this right now but it'll help temporarily. Tomorrow you go and get it properly dressed from Wonwoo.”

He nodded obediently and it was slightly cute as to how he almost resembled a little puppy quietly following instructions. Though you could see him getting tired from the way his eyes seemed to drift.

“I'll do it as quick as I can.”

And quickly you did, already wrapping over the wound enough,to the point Mimgyu had to tell you he felt like he couldn't breath and that's when you stopped.

No sign of blood.

You noted as you taped over the left over end part on the right side of his chest.

For this part, you were very close to him, to ensure the best precision. He was just glad it wasn't the left side of his chest or else you'd definitely feel how fast his heartbeat was going from the moment you got closer.

Mingyu likes you. Like really really likes you. You who stayed behind and treated his wound. You who felt guilty for him getting hurt for something he chose to do.

He thinks in this situation no matter how hurt he got, he was now sure about you. More specifically liking you.

“There. All done.” You patted down his chest lightly as you moved a little behind but before you could properly go, his hand out of nowhere held your own and pulled you closer.

It was unexpected so you couldn't help but stumble a bit as your eyes widened.

You were very close. Too close in fact you were sure if you moved a bit more closer, you might just end up kissing him.

It didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

“Mingyu, what are you doing?”

“I just, I want to tell you thank you for helping me out right now, properly.”

He smiled softly at you, his canines slightly peaking from beneath his closed lip smile and you swore you felt your body flush.

He looked…as handsome as he always did. Brown eyes shimmering in all sorts of emotions, lips a shade of pretty pink.

But you couldn't. You couldn't dare. Not now.

Clearing your throat, you pulled back and stepped behind, your body suddenly feeling a weird coldness from the sudden distance.

On the other hand, Minghu seemed confused. Did he push too far? He didn't mean to, he didn't want to rush anything, he just wanted to properly say thank you like actually say it and not do anything-

“It's alright. I hope you get better soon. I'll call Seungkwan to get you a shirt. You can get changed here. I'll just leave now, it's late anyways and you should to.”

“Have a goodnight agent Kim.”

Agent…Kim? Not even Mingyu?

Before he could even question your change of behaviour, you'd already moved out of your room as if you life depended on it.

As if you'd rather be anywhere but there.

As if you suddenly remembered your dislike towards him.

“Wait! Y/—”

Sighing out, in likely relief as you got out of your office, you made your way down to the lobby.

You couldn't help but feel the guilt, if not even more at how you left Mingyu just because you were a coward. Just because you didn't want to admit how he made you feel.

You couldn't do that to him. Not at this moment.

And perhaps you couldn't do that to him ever, for Kim Mingyu deserves the best.

And that was surely not you.

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

[thefandomenchantress]

Chapter 2 Episode 15 Spoilers below!

Since Ace being the culprit has brought about so much pain to ace lovers, including me, I figured I'd make a list of all the good things that him being the culprit brings to us. Even though Ace will (probably) be executed next episode, that doesn't mean that nothing good came out of this, right?

-Ace's backstory may be revealed much sooner than expected! Before we would've had to wait for chapter 3 or chapter 4 and so on, but since Ace will be gone soon, almost everything not revealed next episode will get told to us in a bonus episode! (I think every dead person gets one of those? Idk if that's officially confirmed). I doubt Teruko's gonna find, like, Ace's diary in chapter three detailing his life story, so if we're ever getting the Taylor Lore™, it'll be in a bonus episode! Plus, a bonus episode would come out a lot faster than the whole of chapter three, so more Ace content sooner no matter what happens in it! And there's always the chance he gets picked for an FTE, since dead people are on the list of options.

-Ace canonically has neat, fancy handwriting. Begone rumors of Ace having illegible, traditionally boy-ish handwriting, he actually writes like a 19th century scholar and I find this very funny. More evidence for my 'Ace likes reading and writing and wanted to become a romance author' crack theory, since he also reenforced his particularness about vocabulary in chapter 2 part 2. (Our only remaining question: Does Ace actually have terrible spelling ('responsibel'), or did he just think Eden would?)

-Ace is very good at being sneaky and often overhears things he shouldn't. I can't wait for this to be used as a plot device in numerous fics ("XANDER YOU'LL NEVER GUESS THE SHIT I JUST HEARD DAVID SAY ABOUT YOU WHEN HE THOUGHT HE WAS ALONE").

-Ace will have to be included in the dead (formerly a) trio posts forevermore. Get ready for Xander-Min-Arei-Ace shenanigans.

-Now that the cast has been forced to acknowledge that being dumb and angry aren't Ace's only traits and that he's just as human as the rest of them, Ace is much less likely to be seen as just those two things by the average viewer. Ace's popularity, or at least the amount of dislike towards him, seems to have shifted since the last episode, and I'm happy more people are able to enjoy what his character has to offer now. He's a cool little guy. I've literally NEVER seen the Ace Markey tag this busy before.

-We got so many cool Ace CGs guys. SO MANY. Including one where he's hanging upside down on the swing set and looks weirdly cute for someone in the middle of a murder plan.

-Also new sprites! The DRDTdev gave Ace a redesign knowing full-well that it would only get a singular chapter of use, and I massively respect that. We already got some new sprites in part 2 of chapter 2 so far, and I'm guessing next episode he'll probably have at least one more breakdown sprite before he dies.

-For someone who no one in the cast liked, he's definitely going to leave an impact. He's finally made at least some of the cast realize what happens when they ignore the issues right in front of them. Ace shouts about how everyone hates him and sees him as an insufferable idiot? Eh, probably nothing, we don't have to worry about that. Sure, multiple people told him he's gonna die next in here, and he almost got murdered, but that won't amount to anything. What's he gonna do, murder someone--WAIT SHIT Ace step away from the Arei I repeat step away from the Arei-- (plus Teruko parallels). I'll probably go more in-depth about this sort of thing in a different post.

-WE NEVER GOT TO SEE WHAT'S UNDER HIS GLOVES. Kyoko and Mukuro both had hand-related secrets that connected them to the plot later on, does that mean Ace will have some sort of relevance to the mastermind or overall lore later on? Like a Mai tattoo situation? (Or maybe it's another thing that may be alluded to or discussed in the bonus episode)(Or left to interpretation but I hope not because I have so many theories).

If you have any more suggestions for other good Ace-related things the culprit reveal brought us, let me know and I can add them to the list! We need as many good things as we can think of right now...

[1-49]

TOURIST GUIDE: The top 7 things you don’t want to be doing when in Paris.

Imagine,

the brightest, most perfect winter’s day imaginable. Crisp, chilly, and beautiful. Warm cafés, busy streets, and gentle breezes ──── stellar architecture, metros, and museums. If anything, Paris is the most magical place on earth, but having Sungchan there makes it even more so.

That being said,

here is a list of the Top 8 things and situations to look out for, & don’t indulge in when you are in Paris if you don’t want to fall in love. A doomed guide for both tourists and locals, eh.

tags: fluff, love, sure it carries its angst though ⁝ fun concept to approach given i wasn’t going to write a fic nor it fits exactly into headcanon, so yeah. he has made me dizzy with his paris photos im sooo sorry. wc. 3k

Fan fact: The French term ‘Coup de foudre’ describes when someone feels completely blown away by someone they have recently met. In literal terms, it means lightning strike. If you have been ‘struck by lightning’ in this way, a common feeling is that you can tell the person everything bc they just get you

Good luck!

THE CRASH

A stunning stranger seated a short distance away from you in a small cafe is always a threat—but this is not just any stunning stranger. As you converse with your friend, he’s also conversing with his group of friends. Passing phones and a camera make their giggles sound like a good time. 

Every chance you get, you glance at him while speaking with your friend because it’s so tempting to do so. Little sparks shoot out the moment the stare is returned; when your gazes meet halfway; when he’s caught, too, for naively trying to get your attention.

When your friend catches on to the fact that you’re looking at what is behind her rather than her.

When she turns around to reinvestigate the situation and notices that he’s staring in your direction, she instantly understands.

When she gives him a smile and turns back to face you, who moved too slowly to stop her.

The stranger which then believes that you both had a conversation about him.

The friend who first exposed you is also the one who is now pushing you to use the restroom; for if he meets you halfway again, chances are good he’s into you too.

Her point is validated when you find yourself in a small hallway, pretending to scroll through your phone, as he moves toward you.

Scents of rich vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and wine fill the dimly lit secluded part of the café, which has burgundy walls. His physique is too large to fit in the narrow hallway. His eyes and smile translate love. His confession is full of tenderness, affection, & promising good times.

THE ‘NO’ PLAN

It’s already outside of your plan to plan the remainder of your day. Order breaks out. Chaos ensues. What was already set in motion was interrupted by him, a tourist named Sungchan. But a Paris show-off won’t be a show-off without a museum, so there goes that theory. 

In any case, a museum or art gallery is a must, so thirty minutes later, you are showing him around one of the many museums. The grand rooms echo with silence as you hope that the angels are praying for you to make it to the end of the tour. It’s simply so overwhelming to be next to such beauty. You can’t stop thinking how much he fits the scene. 

The line of his nose; his lips; the shadows of his collarbones; the wrinkles of his smile; the flow of your hair; the trickle of his laugh—for all of these, he is worthy of a museum.

So when you finally get your hands on the previously ‘passed-around’ camera, an exhibit of blue curiosities rests on his shoulders. Quickly, you take some pictures of him with the Rothko piece. It’s impossible to determine which is more beautiful—him or the artwork. 

There are repercussions for that, as he leads you to allow him to take a picture of you—his ulterior motive, though, to have a picture of you forever. You’ll be with him no matter what, even after he leaves this city and you behind.

JUST TOURISTY THINGS

Time will separate the two of you, just as a river divides Paris, but as you continue to stroll beside the Seine, where musicians sing of hopeless love and painters craft their works in the open, the issue of time is not a priority. If anything, all the time in the world at this moment is yours.

He grabs your hands and spins the two of you around, his hair brushed with sun-kissed shades of cinnamon brown. Claiming he isn’t immune to music, so you can’t be critical and should just follow his example.

But when the spinning becomes too intense and he feels lightheaded, he tries to steady himself by staring into your eyes for longer than he should. Your proximity scares you, but you’re concerned and ask if he’s okay. 

A smile appears on his face as a result of your concern for him, while a heavenly presence is tipping from his eyes as he’s making a promise that he’s good, if not better than ever.

A smile that inspires hope & makes you believe. A smile that undoubtedly had great power to bring you both to this point. He’s beautiful in every sense. Mentality, personalty, appearance.

He’s even surpassing the Eiffel Tower in terms of beauty with ease!

Your captured images, with him as the subject, create the most ideal postcards, and as you’re showing them to him, it’s when a feeling of sad nostalgia envelops you prior to even parting ways with him. You come to the realization that you desire to spend more time with him, not just one day.

But all you get is one day... 

A magic day... that is gradually starting to turn into a night—and as the two of you walk on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg Gardens, the wind becomes clearer and sharper.

Even the bare trees, which you’re used to seeing against the sky, seem to be feeling the warmth of his touch as he insists on pushing and spreading his fingers inside your palm. His vibrance makes even the leafless trees feel less lonely. He takes your hand in such a way that you aren’t even allowed to give him a warning look. Hand in hand, you have no choice but to chase after him.

NO DESTINATION BACK UP

Does it even matter that he doesn’t know the city? 

The ecstasy you are running on is surley telling you that it’s all about getting lost and  discovering yourself in unfamiliar places—and that’s all because of him.

The startled look in this stranger’s eyes as you two nearly cross a street at a red light due to his rushing… 

As he begins to apologize while biting his lower lip, claiming he didn’t mean to. 

His deer-eyes in the headlights are all that you can focus on really. It’s tempting to say, ‘It’s okay,’ but there is something about his apologetic expression that makes you feel as though he’s completely enclosing you in his gaze. 

His eyes are hugging you while he apologizes. It has been a long time since you felt something like that—felt completely safe. Sincerely, and risk-free. He’s a walking green light. So then, it’s a bit sadistic of you to wish for his apology to last longer. 

But how can you not?

When his hand squeezes yours even harder, and he turns all starry eyes while biting his lip in fear?

Someone you would definitely want to try and fit into your pocket, regardless of his height or width.

CRAMPED SPACES

When the cruelness of the night finally reaches your bones, chasing a tiny, romantic restaurant is the only way to soothe the cold.

The warmth of the atmosphere meshes with his gray cardigan, and you find yourself moving more and more into his comfort zone due to the crowded space, where many are seeking refuge for the same reason as you two. 

His rich scent fills the air around you and his knees keep touching yours due to the close proximity. The wine glass dangles in his hand and his lips become more and more affected, picking up a cherry hue.

His collarbones exhibit every movement of his body, and for whatever reason, you feel an insatiable urge to reach for the soft, grey wool and uncover more.

You’re so invested in this delicate area it’s making you feel absolutely irrational. The constant spreading of his hand through his lush hair and pushing it behind is only adding to your obsession. Regardless of how often he does this, the silky hair flies back into his eyes every time.

He has this habit of dipping his small fork into your chocolate mousse, taking a bite, then flirting while he listens to you talk and plays with the fork, letting the sharp tips sink into his soft lips.

The gesture merely begs for your attention, so in order to stay true to yourself, you greet him by clinking glasses with him. But as soon as his glass touches yours, you have to look him in the eyes again and be so sincere... You lose either way.

This gorgeous person’s natural flirtatious charm can’t be escaped. His focus shifting between your lips and eyes as he attentively listens to you is quite possibly the hottest thing about him. 

And although he insists on practising some French words, he continually mispronounces ‘croissants’ and ‘creme brulee’. He got ‘Bonjour’, ‘Bonsoir’, and ‘baguette’ right, which is worthy of notice; and the greatest reward would be a peck on the cheek, which he hasn’t yet received...

The fork remains sunk in his lips. If there’s one dessert that can be described as the ‘most scrumptious’, it’s him.

UNDERGROUND MISHAPS

Running with him in hand is a somewhat exciting experience. You aren’t sure where he got his stamina, but you’re sprinting down the stairs and will have some downtime when you two board the next metro.

When you reach underground platform though, a sea of tourists waits impatiently to go home or explore the outside world.

His hand carefully slides around your waist as you wait, standing side by side, your chests exploding from all the running. Whether it’s to protect you or keep you to himself, the intent is unclear.

And just as you’re about to look up to give him another warning glance, you realize that you’ve already forgotten how many there were. His adorable facial expressions are the reason you never succeed.

Obviously, the wine has increased his energy—his feelings are in his eyes. 

His features quickly and suddenly take on an emotive tone. A line appears between his brows and a hint of melancholy on his face as recognition dawns. Maybe the effects of the end of the day are finally starting to catch up with him.

You realize that he’s a lot of fun—the type of person who always sees the glass half full but who is also, presumably, grounded enough to realize that something is in the way and the glass isn’t quite enough full. Though he’ll eventually have to face it... saying goodbye to you is probably the biggest treat.

His hand is trembling inside yours...

... whether from anger, sadness, or excitement, it can be all of them or then

“Sungchan,”

You barely have time to finish what you started before he pulls you in and gives you a hug. Metros, come and go. People are walking past you, but he freezes this moment.

His coat’s lapels seem kind enough to part away, giving you more personal space and allowing your ear to fall directly on his heart.

His hand falls effortlessly over your head, as soft as a snowflake as he says, “It’d ruin everything if we said anything. Let’s not.” He carasses your hair and then plants a kiss.

A hug so strong that it keeps you safe from the passing of time. 

However, even this beam of sunshine has a heart, and it rains. Not even he has the complete ability to stop time from passing. The earth orbits, and the leaves dissipate.

Though what he can do is, 

he can certainly seize some of the light in the circumstance as he pulls on your hand once more, making the promise of, “Trust me.”

FALLING IN LOVE

There is definitely a sense of a ‘Trust me’ irony in the situation however, about how you won’t fall in love with him.

He seems to be pointing you in the direction of the photo booth at the end of the platform, which he noticed while your bodies were merging together. 

You’re fairly certain that those will be your favourite, worst-ever photos of the two of you, but the only memory you can physically hug, so you decide not to argue.

Naturally, the cubicle is small, but what do you expect from a metro photo booth?

The sweet giant battles his height and shoulders to enter, and when he does, he just hovers above you, looking down. His palms pressed against two different walls, and his neck bent at an awkward angle because you have taken all the ‘what can hardly be called a’ seat. 

Like it is your fault, right?

With a tongue poke to his cheek and raised brows, he’s subtly advising you to do ‘this one thing.’

Like hell, “I’m not sitting in your lap,” you bat your eyelashes at him. 

“It’s too late to back out. Plus, I don’t think there’s any other way to make this work.”

The goofy grin morphs his whole face into what it would be to stand under the sun; his cheeks rise higher the more he shows teeth. He’s so cute. It melts your heart.

Your mouth stays open in shock as you say, “But it is you who wanted this,” before you endearingly defend yourself. “This was your idea.” How very ‘trust me’ of him. In the end, you accept. “Okay, fine,” you sulk while pouting.

Satisfied, he clicks his tongue. You both knew that you would accept; you just wanted to have some fun, didn’t you?

You eventually create room for him to sit, but when it comes time for you to sit, you hesitate. But then you feel his hands dragging your waist down, and the next thing you know, you’re in his lap. He has lost all patience.

You sigh with annoyance, but even you know it is all a front. 

Now hesitant to move, your back remains pressed against his chest, and you’re even halfway there trying to maintain your balance on your feet instead of lounging comfortably in his lap. However, his back hug is particularly effective because it feels like his palm is pressing deeper into your tummy, encouraging you to relax even more into him.

His thighs radiate unnecessary heat, and his warm breath tickles the side of your neck as his chin rests on your shoulder. He teases you, whispering, “You can face me you know, I don’t bite.”

There is an absolute anarchy, there beneath his palm, in your belly. Not the whispering tone!! 

You tilt your head back (ironically, letting it rest where his shoulder and neck meet), gazing at the near ceiling and mentally calculating the number of seconds until you lose your mind.

He rests with you, for a minute, or two… his heart densely kicking in your back, but you swear it’s a peaceful moment. He’s able to magically stop the flow of time, no matter what!

Perhaps outside of the small world that you two inhabit, the metro passes by for the fifth time, and perhaps the waiting area is swept by cleaners once more while your shoes peek out from under the curtain, threatening to blow your cover.

However, time never really stops—especially in this place, the City of Light, Paris, a city that never sleeps.

��Let—um” His voice cracks for the first time before he finally says, “Uh—Let us take those pictures.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the angst of the situation to have its way with you before turning to face him.

His brows appear flat, and the crack between them is even deeper than it used to be. Even his lips are fuller than they used to be. Or could it simply be the face-to-face intimacy that is causing them to appear in such a way?

All this time, you thought it was just a playful lust, an undeniable attraction, when, in fact, what you’re finding is love—love looking straight into your eyes.

You no longer need to hold it within you. You just admit it, completely aware that nothing will change but that it will undoubtedly have some significance because it’s better to let things out than to hold them inside.

“Sungchan,” you pause for a moment, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Like you haven’t already felt them, he takes your hand and puts it over his heart, allowing you to feel the butterflies surging through his chest. Your lips to your eyes is the route he prefers to travel most. “I don’t want to leave either,” he admits voice light and airy.

As you look at him, every time the photo booth camera flashes a bright light, the butterflies burst rhythmically—because of that, and as much at the magic, and at the calculated touch of a girl who, in the past, had learned to trust no one. Yet, here you are, choosing to trust someone you have just met & won’t see again.

Your hands tremble against his cheeks as you gently cup his face and begin your slow, careful inspection. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch as you run a finger across the peak of his eyebrow.

You feel an influx of emotions as you begin to understand that this person is an angel. You’re tracing every inch of him into your brain—soaking up every star in his eyes and every mole on his face—because an angel like this can never be met twice...

His greatest quality, you think, even in this kind of ‘damned’ situation, is that he can’t stay serious; a smile lights up his face. The only word that adequately expresses how you feel is wanting to ‘devour’ the damned smile that lingers close to your lips. He’s irresistible.

Cute or sexy are terms that are so confusing with him. You aren’t sure to which he’s supposed to be leaning towards. It’s driving you crazy. He simply can not be defined.

And the more he holds you, the more confident he gets. He started off politely, treating you like a paper bird, and then he abruptly stops apologizing. His lashes start to make out slowly with the narrow look he gives you. His thumb glides over your bottom lip. There is only one meaning to it.

Conversely, the photos taken are sitting in the photo outlet. You whisper, “Sungchan,” gesturing to the pictures and apparently indicating that ‘your work here is done.’ 

His firm grip on your jaw, however, fiercely brings your face into his. His winey breath is coating your lips.

“But,” you knit your brows, “our series of pho—”

His index finger stops your lips from moving mid-sentence. “Let’s make another one.”

“You—you’re getting too comfortable in this,” You stagger over what you are saying as his nose brushes against yours, “for-for well, for something that will never happen again.” 

“That’s exactly why I need those photos,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheeks in response to your somewhat insensitive comment.

“And we—And we,” you keep breaking, “We’ve been her—

“Can I kiss you?” He brutally cuts you off.

His sugary lower lip is already pressed against yours. It no longer interests him what you’re saying. It’s a quiet question, but there is some dangerously real intent behind it.

Yes, but can he beg for a kiss?

Sure,

as if he’s breathing in the air that he knows he’ll be missing out on, his lips remain waiting for a sign before they get messy.

His thumb ignites ‘instant fire’ in every pore on your cheek with each precise circle. It’s more like he is consuming you in advance. 

Your thoughts are numb, and your heart is stuck in your throat. You don’t want to forget any part of it all, and you’re bound to in the high you’re experiencing right now... He was right when he advised it to be documented.

The gaping mouths. The tender lip-stroking. The deep, slow breathing. The hot air exchange.

His teeth clenched in pain. The energy he surrounds you with is so intense.

Your “Fuck!”

& Sungchan’s “Please,”

occur simultaneously.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[sinon36]

Echoes of Salvation: The Deal (Part I). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader  (Zombie AU)

Part II

The story starts after the dash.

Warnings: some gore, some mistakes, some bad writing (eh… we all have to start somewhere), not proof read, some independent woman surviving on her own without the need of help from men (cause I like self reliant women and people in general, they are a great inspiration to us all, really).

Disclaimer:

Dear readers,

Please be kind. This is my first fanfiction ever that I wrote and posted, so please be kind and overlook any potential inaccuracies, mistakes, grammatical errors as I’m not a professional writer and also English isn’t my native tongue. Though I have studied British English I am sure I haven’t really managed to accurately portray the British way of speaking, so please, feel free to point out anything that might poke you in the eye while reading this.

Also, I would like to tell you that this fan-fic is the love child of my obsession with our favourite masked man Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, and my love for anything zombie apocalypse or world-ending alternate universe or actual universe. Tbh If I wasn’t a poor student I would probably be a prepper, just like Frank from HBO’s TLoU. Most likely will be. I’m a little weird like that, you’ll see more in the future.

To close this little rant, I hope you’ll enjoy it, even if it’s short, I would really like to continue this if you deem it worth it enough. This will probably be a slow-burn kind of romance: 1. because I’m a sucker for the kind of slow-burn strangers/enemies to lovers fanfics, and 2. because it’s more realistic, let’s calm the whore-y instincts and be reasonable people that don’t climb masked 6-feet-tall strangers like trees.

With everything said I do not own the Call of Duty character Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley (*whispers*Though I wish I did*) BUT I do own this piece of fanfic. Please don’t steal it. Repost it but please do give credit to other people’s work. You may notice some similarities to other fanfics, cause duh, I also read a lot of that, (isn’t that one of the incipient stages to becoming a fanfic writer?), but I would really like to give a shout out to the fanfic author that really inspired me to put fingers to keyboard and a fanfic into Tumblr, please, *drum rolls* a round of applause for @nsharks with her lovely fanfic ‘Bleeding Blue’. She’s really wonderful and you should really check her out.

Have fun reading and don’t forget to leave a comment or a heart. I wouldn’t mind suggestions of what to name Simons’ daughter. That would really make my day 😊

P.S. Sorry to all the fishing loving people out there, what I said was based on my impression of the fishing experience and should be taken with a grain of salt.

            Yours truly <3

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.                     

-

The sky is cloudy above but some sunbeams break through to warm the crisp air this fine early spring morning. It’s a good time for fishing now that the water is warmer, they come closer to the bank in search of food. It’s a boring task after you arrange all your tools and launch the line in the water. It’s a game of waiting and watching for any small tugs or movement of the neon-coloured fishing line. You picked up fishing after a couple of months into moving here, when everything was a mess and so many repairs and renovations had to be made around the house. The guy from the tutorials you used to watch on YouTube talked about the calmness and relaxation fishing brought to him. Maybe you weren’t cut out to stand all day on shore and gawk like an idiot for hours at the thin plastic line submerged in the lake water. But you cannot deny the proud feeling catching a fish brought to you when the line finally went taught.

You try and ward off the boredom and instead try to focus on the warmth that spring brings after months of endless cold. The birds are singing in trees, preparing nests for future offspring, and the lake is calm, with bubbles on the surface indicating the abundance of fish. Life is good. Bellamy enjoys sunbathing next to you rolling in a patch of grass. Everything is peaceful. Nothing really happens here anyway. You close your eyes basking in the good feeling that overtakes you.

A branch snapping behind you wakes you from the meditation you have fallen into. You raise and turn from where you are crouched over your equipment. You come face to face with a strange figure.         

‘Show me yer hands’ he tells you in a thick British accent, eyes focused on you and handgun aimed at your chest. He wears all black and a haunting white skull mask. He is tall, at least 6 feet tall, body poised to kill. In his other arm, you can see a little girl hugging his neck.

You slowly raise your hands. At your foot, Bellamy growls baring her teeth at the stranger sensing danger. You shush her grabbing her by the caller to keep her from attacking the armed man. You stand still watching in apprehension as the man studies you. You look at the ground where you left your backpack and your hatchet.

‘Don’t even think about it’ comes the gruff order. You nod trying to convey that you understand the situation. ‘There’s nothing in that bag worth a bullet’ you tell him in an even tone despite fear creeping down your spine. He hums in agreement. ‘And if you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it by now.’ He watches you like a hawk its prey. ‘So…’ you pause carefully measuring your words, ‘what it is that you want from me?’ he gestures you to take a few steps back and you drag Bellamy by her collar.

He kicks at the backpack spilling the contents. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich, a hunting knife, and a rectangular box in which you keep the hooks, lures, fishing lines, and other small fishing equipment. He turns his gaze back at you and nods toward your dog. ‘Put a muzzle on it or I’ll shoot it’. your blood runs cold at the thought of losing your sole companion. You scramble to untie the scarf you keep tied around your wrist that you use to wipe away sweat from your forehead. You wrap the piece of cloth around the dog’s snout tight enough to not slip away. Next, the dark-clad man tells you to pack your fishing gear and collect your backpack, with one hand keeping it outstretched to the side and the other one grabbing at Bellamy’s collar guiding her forward. ‘Move. Eyes forward. Any sudden moves and I drop you.’

He walks a couple paces behind you. For how big he is you can barely hear him walk on the path. You can feel his gaze burning in the back of your head and the gun pointed at your back. As you start down the path you can make out the roof of your small house. Once you get at the gate you stop. ‘open it’ he instructs. ‘The key is in my right pocket’ you say slowly gesturing to said pocket. ‘Mhm,’ you hear him grunt. You slowly release Bellamy and fish for the key in your jacket’s pocket. You slowly take it out and put it in the keyhole turning it and opening the gate.

The familiar sight of your front garden does nothing to appease you in this situation. Bushes full of colourful flowers hug the narrow path toward the house. The wind catcher hung above your porch clinks melodically as a gust of warm wind catches on it. you take a few more steps on the stone path before you and you hear the gate closing behind you. What once was your safe space now traps you in with a stranger ready to shoot you or worse.

‘Tie the dog to that pole’ he orders you again. On your right, there is a small pole stuck in the ground. He throws a roll of paracord next to you. You don’t move at first. You had never tied Bellamy down before. You can’t even remember when you last put a leash on her. She likes to roam free and run around. The click of the gun behind you tells you that you have no choice. You drop the backpack and start to drag her to the pole. She tries to resist but you shush her and urge her to move. Once you finish tying her you turn towards the stranger. He nods towards the house and you start walking hands raised on either side of your head. Once you open the door he urges you inside.

‘Where do you keep the medicine?’ he grumbles urgently. ’Bathroom.’ you nod to the right of your living room. ‘Go get it!’ you don’t wait around you spring toward the white door. After a couple of minutes grabbing most of what you keep in the over-sink cabinet you emerge hands filled with gauze of all sizes and different bottled pills. You return to find the man placing the girl on the couch. She appears to be asleep. You almost forgot about her. She looks about 8-years-old. Brown hair is chopped short in a pixie cut. She’s wearing blue-washed jeans and a dark green hoodie that’s too big on her.

You watch as he peels the hoodie from her limp body. Underneath she wears a striped t-shirt, but what catches your attention is her left upper arm. Red stained gauze is wrapped around. You are still in your approach keeping a safe distance. ‘Was she bit?’ the words rush out in apprehension. From where he kneels next to her his eyes snap at you. ‘No’ he denies the implication of your words. ‘Put that on the table and go sit by the door’ You do as you're told eyes darting between the girl and the man. You drop everything on the coffee table and go sit by the entrance door hugging your knees. You watch as he works on bandaging the kid. Your eyes are glued to the girl’s arm.

Even though you lived so far out into the wilderness you saw pictures on the internet of bites from the infected. You read the posts of the survivors and heard the news broadcast on all channels. Then everything went quiet. The cable didn’t work and your phone had no signal. You knew shit hit the fan and that it was serious. Then, a few weeks later you saw your closest neighbour, Neil, an elderly farmer who lived about half a mile further up the river’s bank, growling and stumbling trying to catch Bellamy who was running scared towards you. You tried to talk him out of the trance-like state but to no avail. He kept stalking towards you, ready to take a bite out of you. You tried to tell him to keep his distance and warned him that you would protect yourself. The rest was a blur. You faintly remember grabbing the hatchet that you used to cut down logs for your stove. And then the struggle with the man, Bellamy barking, you crying out pleas for him to stop. In the cacophony of noises, you hit him with the blade right in the neck. The next thing you knew, your neighbour lay in a pool of dark blood hatchet still. It took you a while to register what you have done. You just killed a man. You couldn’t forget the way he lay there, on the gravel, hands stretched outwards bloodshot eyes staring emptily at the sky. That was the first time you encountered an infected. You distinctly remember the fear and adrenaline that took hold of you. The feelings that gripped your heart so tight and that made you take a life take over you as you watch the little girl, possibly infected, unconscious but on her way to the same madness that turned Neil into a savage monster all those years ago.                                                 

'She's feverish. You got meds or something to bring the fever down?' his question brings down from your rising panic at the thought of being stuck inside with a possible infected. ‘There should be some anti-inflammatory pills and some antibiotics. They are out of date but they could still work.' He grabs hold of the med kit you brought. He sorts through the drugs checking the expiration dates. When he comes across the antibiotics, he studies the pack carefully, his eyes darting back and forth from the label to the girl. 'How much can I give her?' he asks with a hint of concern his stern facade crumbling slightly.

You look at him unsure what to say. Those pills have been bought before the start of the outbreak. You doubt expired drugs have any effect anymore. You refrain from saying that though. He is stressed, he might take his anger on you. ‘She’s a kid, you mumble, so, about half of each.’ He carefully considers his next action. ‘She’ll need water to take them, you add from down the floor. And some food…’ He nods in understanding. ‘May I?’ you don’t know why you offer this stranger help. First, he disturbs you from catching dinner, next, he threatens to kill you and your dog, now he takes over your house and medicine. But you can recognize the desperation in his look, the way he fumbles with the packaging. He is a parent trying to save his kid. Even though you don’t have any of your own you recognize the parental instincts, the same ones you exert on Bellamy.

He looks at you unsure of what to do. He surrenders in defeat and nods at you to go on. You rise to your full height, which doesn’t add up to much compared to him. You walk past them all the way to the back of the living room where you disappear behind a white door. After a couple minutes, you reemerge from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of steaming vegetable soup you made this morning. You slowly approach the couch watching him for any sign that you might cross a line. Instead of any aggression he takes a step back and allows you to go closer to the girl. You place the bowl and the glass on the coffee table and kneel next to the couch.

The girl opens her eyes and looks at you with distrust. Like father like daughter… you think to yourself. But you try to smile at her try to reassure her. ‘I brought you some soup, love’ you say in your most sincere and kind voice. ‘You must eat a little and then take some pills that will make you feel better’. You try to persuade her. She stares at you for a minute then at the man. They are suspicious of you and they have all the reason to be. You are a stranger to them as much as they are to you. Funny you are in the position to try and win their trust in your own home. You take the spoon you brought for her and dip it in the bowl. You take a spoonful and hover it close to your face blowing a little over it and then you swallow it. You can’t help the little moan of appreciation for your own cooking skills. ‘See? It’s good.’ You look at her with a small smile.

You don’t know where this came from; you blame it on the 6-foot-tall armored stranger whose stare drives daggers at the back of your head and your desire to keep your head on your shoulders and all your blood in your body. You don’t outright hate kids but you were never good around them. With a sigh, she sits upright and takes the spoon from you. She eats slowly. You keep watching her. She is a pretty kid. She has blue eyes and freckles on her small button nose. You wonder if she looks anything like the man behind you. She is pale and sweat collects on her little forehead most likely from her fever. She eats half of the soup you brought her and then turns her gaze towards the man. He hands her the two halves of the pills. She takes them in her small hand and grabs the glass. She hesitates. ‘It’s okay’ you reassure her and with a nod, she puts the half tablets on her tongue following up with large gulps from the glass. She scrunches her little nose in disgust at the chalky taste. ‘Atta girl’ you hear him utter from behind you. ‘Now lay down and rest.' he says to the girl in a stern yet gentle voice. He watches her nod and lie back on the couch her eyes half-lidded. He sighs, 'Good for now. ' he mutters under his breath. His eyes are fixed on her as he gestures to you. 'Come with me.' You rise from the floor and follow him outside the front door.

He leads you outside. When you cross the threshold, he takes a deep breath and a look of relief washes over his stern features. He gestures for you to sit on the front porch with him. 'We need to talk...' 'Yeah' you say crossing your arms defensively over your chest and standing as far away as the length of your porch allows. you take a moment to study him as he fixes you with a cold stare. You notice the many pockets on his vest and belt. A patch on his chest reads S.A.S. He's ex-military, you muse. His uniform makes much more sense now. But the mask still unnerves you.

He leans against one of the wooden porch support beams right hand hovering on the pistol holster. You think it's an act to intimidate you, to remind you that he is still armed and ready to strike you down in your own home.  You stare at him a little defiantly. You’ll be damned before you let this weirdo intimidate you on your turf. He studies you from head to boots and back up. You sigh and square your shoulders showing him you are not afraid of him. ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He tells you in a matter-of-fact tone. You try to suppress the surprise on your face. You look down at his boots avoiding his icy gaze.

He’s been stalking you, and the realization dawns on you. You didn’t even notice his presence around the house. Stupid, you think to yourself, I’m growing complacent. But not even Bellamy caught his smell and she usually barks when someone or something comes close to the house. But earlier at the lake, he took you both by surprise. He’s good at keeping his presence concealed, you have to give it to him. You nod to yourself in understanding. He probably knows the layout of your house by now, he knows you are alone, and he waited for you to be outside and ambush you. You start imagining all the horrible things he could have done to you. But no, he instead approached you, gun pointed at you, nevertheless, when he could have already killed you and taken over your house by now. You hum and make eye contact with him.

‘Why keep me alive then?’ you ask him without beating around the bush. You study his mannerisms trying to catch something, anything to prove you he’s human. But he’s as unreadable as a statue. His gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking and stoic. You feel him studying you, taking in every detail of your person. He seems intent on reading into your every move.

In an even tone, he answers, 'Because you’re not a threat.’ His response catches you off guard, ego a little bruised at that, but you can’t argue with his logic. If he wanted to, he could have killed you by now, that’s for sure. You remain silent for a moment, processing his response. ‘But that doesn’t mean I trust you.’ He adds kicking off the beam and taking a step closer to you. He looks down at you tilting his head a little like a bird of prey watching a mouse, waiting for it to give chase and make the hunt more fun. You don’t give in to the urge to run inside and hide in your bedroom. Instead, you take a step towards him and look up at him ‘Because you need me’ you speak quietly. You can imagine a raised brow under that mask. You smile in triumph; even though he acts tough he needs help and all the intimidating façade was in a desperate attempt to get it.

‘I get it’ you continue having him figured out. ‘Your kid is sick and out there dangers are lurking at every turn. You need a place to stay until she gets better.’ You finish voicing your theory on why he’s really here having this conversation with you. His eyes closed in defeat. Gotcha, you smile even more widely at your deduction. ‘You can stay, you say as you turn and walk down the three steps of your porch heading towards the gate. ‘On one condition, you add stopping in your track. You turn fully towards him and he watches you curiously as if you’d have any power to demand him anything. ‘No harm comes to me or my dog’ you say remembering his earlier threats of him offing you both. ‘Do we have a deal?’ it’s not unreasonable, though it irks you that you have to bargain for your safety with a stranger. ‘Deal.’ He says in his usual gruff voice nodding to you in sign of respect for your demand.

‘Good’ you say as you stalk off towards where Bellamy lays muzzled and tied like a prisoner of war. You free her and she jumps at you happy to be in your proximity. She must have been worried sick here all alone. Poor thing. You then go to the gate and slide the too-large bolts meant to keep any unwanted guests outside. Or inside in your case. ‘And to think nothing interesting ever happens around her, right, Bell?’ your rhetorical question is met with a bark of agreement.

[ofmermaidstories]

i just wanted to say as a long time reader i'm so happy to hear your thoughts on the ending, because i feel like so many people were very "this is the worst ending ever and it ruined the series" or "this ending was perfect and anyone who disagrees just didn't understand the story" when i think neither is really true at all lol... like it's okay to take what you need from the ending and agree and disagree with certain parts! no perfect story exists because if it did then writers would stop writing! but i'm still so excited to see where your love of the series takes you in the future, and i'm grateful that you share your work with us always :) i hope you have a good week!

i love the series too much to swing blindly either way. 🥹 and i understand/can see perfectly how like, there’d be readers who’d be upset with the wrap up, or otherwise feel the knee-jerk reaction to defend it from all criticism. 🥺 i’m not one of them though. 🥹 hori achieved what he set out to do (tell a very specific story about a boy learning what it means to dream, and the cost and responsibility of gaining and losing them), there’s just some pot holes on the road to it. 🥺 and maybe they could’ve (should’ve) been addressed, maybe easily, maybe not (maybe it’s a problem for when the road was first built, in terms of foundation or missing approval plans, maybe) but the road still works. we still get there in the end. 🥹

i had fun the entire time, even with the complaints lmao. i agree with you, anon! like, i don’t think perfect creators/writers exist. we all have blind spots, or biases that otherwise skewer what we try to achieve. i think flaws make creators and their creations interesting!!!!!! if anything i think that tells you more about them and their work than the things they get right does. The way Hori protects and almost babies his hero boys—his men—from their consequences, lmao, like he’s almost too scared to truly hurt them in the long run? He always just shies away from saying things outright—things are always left just open enough that he can back peddle later on, fix things. The complete dry lack of romance, despite him taking pains to hint at it and the way it’s guarded among Ochako and Tsyu like some precious, girlish secret. 💀 Idc what anyone says about that last one, I don’t believe he’s deliberately subverting expectations—I think he’s just bad at writing romance (that isn’t unintended 💀) and also a coward, lmao.

But that’s the stuff that’s fun! It’s fun to pick it apart and then it’s fun to piece it back together either by writing fic or trying to find fics that have like, the fix-its you want. 🥹 Hori’s flaws and deliberate gaps are what makes it the perfect sandbox we know and love. and i think he knows that, tbh—there’s so many tiny things he hints at, throughout the story, that we just never get full explanations of. The UA robot uprising, lmao. The cyberwar after the kids leave school, mentioned in this last chapter?? The fact that he’s plotted out the past users lives, and is just kinda like—eh, yeah, i’m never gonna tell. LOL. Maybe what I keep calling cowardice is just a misjudgement of the lines he draws for himself, in the sand. 🧐🥺 I guess we won’t know, lmao.

i’m waffling. Anon, I hope you’re having a good start to your week. 🥹 Thank-you for being so nice, specifically with your last words—there’s a lot I wanna write for MHA!!! I’m excited to start something new that gets to play with what Hori left for us. 🥹 Like Lili said in her earlier ask—I’d like to write them a hundred other happy endings, too. 🥹

[nerdalmighty]

BG3 Tag Game!

I was tagged by @khywren!!! Thank you!!!!!!

I'm going to tag @vanilkaplays @okthisway @maladaptive-menace @riddlerosehearts @starkspi and anyone else who wants to play along!

Favorite romance: It will surprise no one to know that it's Astarion. I find his backstory so incredibly interesting and I love his dumbass personality. At the end of the day, he just wants to do whatever is the most hilarious and I adore that. I especially love how soft he gets when you get together in Act 2. I could go on and on but I'll never be able to fully articulate my love for him.

Favorite class to play: Bard! I love that they're really the jack of all trades and are pretty good at everything, including spells and sword fighting. Persuasion and deception are SO helpful in this game, plus playing music to distract crowds and cause shenanigans in Baldur's Gate is wonderful.

Favorite NPC: I think Raphael. While yeah he absolutely SUCKS, I'm obsessed with his obsession with his own voice. He's a thespian, he's a freak, he's an idiot. I love it. But yes, I did kill his ass.

Favorite song off the soundtrack: Probably the Harpy Song. I listen to it a lot in my spare time, especially when I'm working on a specific fic I'm attempting to write. I'm a big fan of haunting melodies and, unsurprisingly, the concept of hypnotizing music.

Tell us a little about your Tav: I wrote a pretty long post about her here, but my Tav is named Birdie and she's a bard who was born and raised at the Water Queen's House. Previous iterations of her had her as a siren (hence the deep love of the Harpy Song), but I'm still not 100% sure if this version of her is. Basically, she's a mermaid ass goof whose main gang of idiots include Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. Chaos often ensues.

Something you wish was in the game: I know this game is huge. I know there's probably stuff people haven't even discovered yet. But god would I love some more camp animations. More interactions between the companions AT camp. Cut scenes where there should probably be cut scenes (The second time Astarion drinks your blood, Wyll celebrating the defeat of Ansur, etc). I really really love this game, but I'd love to hang out with my friends EVEN MORE.

Do you create fanworks? Share something with us: Oh boy I'm TRYING. I've never really written fanfiction before but the stupid vampire has inspired me to do so. I'm in the process of writing two different fics (one multi-chapter, one one-shot on the longer side) and am having a blast but I'm not sure if/when I'll post them. I've noticed my writing style is very similar to the way I write scripts, which is what I went to college for, so they're full of dialogue and quick, dumb banter. It might not be for everyone, but I'm having The Most Fun! Let me know if you'd maybe want to see more? Here's a silly excerpt from the one-shot (she may or may not get smutty later on 👀):

There was no sign of the vampire, save for an open hatch beneath the stone of the tower leading into what you presumed was a cellar of sorts. Off to the side was a discarded set of Thieves’ Tools. Yup, that’ll be him.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you began to descend into the basement below. 

Before you could even make it to the bottom, however, you heard Astarion’s voice tinged with annoyance. “Don’t bother, darling. I was just coming back up.”

You paused on the ladder and looked down at him. “That bad?”

“Eh, a few coins, some food. Nothing worth risking one’s life over. Foolish gnome.”

“Shame,” you pouted down at him, not an ounce of real sympathy behind the word.

He smirked as he met your eye. “Go,” he said, indicating you should climb back up the ladder. “There was a rather large amount of smoke powder though. That could be fun.”

When you emerged back into the early evening air, you turned to help Astarion out. “Maybe you can blow up a quaint little gnomish village.”

Astarion’s eyes glittered with delight. “Oh, do you think there’s one around here? That would be- Oh. You’re joking.”

You nodded.

“Gods, you’re no fun.” He sighed dramatically and then started back towards the Blighted Village proper. 

You scoffed in mock offense. “I’m a lot of fun!”

Astarion tsked. “If you have to say you’re a lot of fun, odds are, you’re lying to yourself.” He shot a challenging half smile at you from over his shoulder.

“How dare you,” you laughed.

“Such a pity, too,” he went on. “Aren’t bards supposed to be entertaining?”

You made a sound of agony, which had Astarion fully turning back to look at you. You threw a hand to your heart and staggered towards him. “You wound me, Astarion. Look upon me with pity and remember me fondly!” You set an arm on his shoulder and let your body weight go, as if collapsing from a killing blow. 

Astarion was quick to catch you under your arms. He made a show of groaning about how heavy you were now that your body had gone completely limp. After you’d hung loosely from his grip for a few seconds, he finally yielded. “Alright, enough.” 

You resumed control of your body and stood up straight, a smug look on your face. “I’m fun.”

“Dramatic.”

“Theatrical.”

“Annoying.”

“Endearing.”

“Loud.”

“Enthusiastic-”

Just then, a loud howl came from a barn a little ways off. 

You and Astarion eyed each other.

“Was that you?” Astarion asked.

“‘Was that me?!’ I’m not THAT loud.”

“Could have fooled me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on.” You started in a light jog towards the barn.

Astarion groaned. “You can’t be serious.” He caught up with you easily. “Haven’t we done enough heroing for today?”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “One more act of heroism probably won’t kill you.”

“It might!”

“Oh, now who’s being dramatic?” You came to a stop at the double doors.

“I-” Astarion floundered, then pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought.”

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 2. Winter

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 2 || Next Episode >>

Chapter Summary: Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 4.4k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

I. Winter

Evie — December 31

In the past few days, her text chain with Tito has settled into a nice rhythm. At first, it was a couple of texts a day: when one of them saw a funny Instagram post or reel, they would send it to the other. 

Things changed on Friday when she broke her usual routine of curling up on her couch with a blanket and book and instead found herself watching Tito's game. Her book lay untouched in her lap as her eyes tracked number 91 across the ice. After the game, she stayed up later than she meant to, eagerly picking up her phone every time it vibrated with a new text from Tito.

So, she concluded, I watch hockey now.

Which is why Evie ends up being late for the New Year’s party that Kelsey had invited her to. She couldn’t bear to leave when she had planned to, watching as the score kept ratcheting up for the wrong team. Her stomach curled every time Tito’s frustrated face is shown. 

To Tito 🌞🏒: i’m sorry about the loss, tito. fucking sucks. i hope you’ll still try to enjoy your new year’s eve?

By the time she gets to the party, she’s glad she can slip in among the partygoers without much fuss; everyone’s already a little tipsy on champagne. She knows she keeps pulling out her phone to check her notifications, but she can only hope she doesn't seem too rude.

It’s almost 11:30 pm when her phone buzzes, and she’s surprised to see it’s an incoming call and not a text. She slips out to the balcony as she connects the call.

Tito’s voice comes through too loud, “Evie!”

She laughs, “Hi, Tito. You good?”

“Yeah, you said I should enjoy my New Year’s Eve, so I went out with some of the guys,” he says, his words slurring ever so slightly. Evie can hear the background noise dim through the phone as if he had also stepped outside.

“New Year’s Eve in Dallas; you living it up?”

He laughs, “Dickie’s taken us to some fancy bar he used to go to. There’s a bunch of the Stars guys here too. Not that I really want to see them right now,” he groans.

“God, yeah. I saw, I’m sorry. That was a rough way to end the year.”

“Yeah, well…” He clears his throat and tries to inject some levity into his voice, “I don’t want to think about that right now. We’re trying to have fun, right? What're you up to?”

“Kelsey— my coworker— she’s also friends with Leanne— she invited me to a party. I’m at someone’s penthouse apartment. I have no idea whose. It’s pretty cool, though— Great view. There’s a lot of people, actually.”

Tito whistles. “A lot of choices for a midnight kiss then, eh?”

“I guess?” she laughs. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not that much,” he says unconvincingly. Evie can picture him scrunching his face at his own blatant lie.

“Okay,” she laughs, “I’ll have to let you go back then. Get some more champagne in you.”

“Nah,” he whines a little. “No midnight kisses in there. Fuck! I’m going to be even more unlucky next year if I don’t get a kiss.”

It startles a laugh out of her. “Anthony, buddy, I don’t think that’s a thing,” she chuckles, shaking her head.

He hums and doesn’t say anything else.

“Are you making friends at least?” she asks.

“Eh… more like passing time. A party’s a party, right?” 

“Come on, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“They’re not!” he says a little too loud before repeating himself, “They’re not bad. That isn't what I meant. I just… I don’t know. I don’t really know if we’re friends, so much, just teammates.”

Evie softens. “Jason and Alandra were nice. They seemed to be trying to be your friend, at least. I bet he had to drag you out tonight.” 

“Yeah, he’s cool. It’s just—” He groans. “I think we’re both a little too drunk to try to figure out the difference between a buddy in the league who I’ll spend a couple of months playing with and will almost never talk to again and a friend.”

Leanne catches her eye through the glass and raises an eyebrow in question. Evie sends a small smile back. 

“It’s tough, Tito, to move around. I’m sorry this year has been so fucked for you as well.” She sighs. “Listen, I gotta get back inside. Leanne's making weird faces at me. And you should go back inside, too.”

She hears Tito suck in a shallow breath, voice once again full of false cheer, “Of course, of course. Shit, sorry for being a fucking downer. I promise I’ll go back inside and have a good time.”

“Have fun, dude. You’re a hot professional athlete at a fancy bar on New Year’s Eve. I think you’re not going to have any trouble finding someone to kiss at midnight.”

“You think I’m hot?” his voice genuinely lightens; she could hear the smile lighting up his face.

“Goodnight, Tito,” she laughs pointedly, “Happy New Year.”

She hears him finally let out another genuine laugh, a sound that warms her despite the cold Chicago air, “Happy New Year, Evie. I’m really glad we reconnected last week. It’s nice to have a friend in the city.”

And with that, they hang up, and she slips back into the throng of party-goers. She doesn’t get far before Leanne catches her elbow.

“What was that?” Leanne asks, handing over a new champagne glass.

“Oh. It was Tito.”

Leanne’s eyebrows immediately jump. “Oh yeah? You guys are calling now?”

“I mean, I guess? That’s the first time we’ve called so,” she shrugs.

“Mhmm,” Leanne hums, clearly unconvinced, a smirk lacing her lips.

Evie bumps her shoulder. “Oh, shut up. His team just lost 8-1 on New Year’s Eve. It fucking sucked. Cut him some slack.”

“Yikes. Okay, in the spirit of the season, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

Evie laughs and rolls her eyes, letting herself relax into the drink and the rhythm of the people celebrating around her.

Evie — January 2

To Tito 🌞🏒: shit, just saw the hit. are you okay?!!

Evie sits on her couch and stares at her silent phone, her knee bouncing. She hasn’t been able to sit still since she saw the hit, and it just got worse with each replay, so she turned her TV off. But now, she's just sitting in unsettling silence— I’m not entirely sure that this is better.

She checks her phone again. It has been 15 minutes since she watched Tito skate himself off the ice, clutching his left arm. She calms herself with the thought that his silence doesn’t mean there’s something very wrong; if they were running tests, it might just take a while before he sees his phone. 

She decides to make a cup of tea and pick up her book again. It makes her feel a little settled, but not enough, as she’s still checking her phone every few seconds. If she’s honest, she's just reading the same page over and over.

Finally, an hour later, her phone lights up, and she picks it up so fast it almost flies out of her hand.

Tito 🌞🏒: doc says it’s probably broken. they’ve immobilized it but i have to come home for more tests.

“Shit,” she says to her empty apartment, hitting Dial on her phone. She fiddles with a loose thread on her shorts as the call tone rings before she finally hears the click of Tito picking up.

“Tito,” she says too loud, leaping up from her couch. Her book crashes to the floor, startling her; she sits back down in embarrassment.

“Hey,” his voice sounds tired.

“Hey,” she responds, voice gentler, “Shit, I’m so sorry about your wrist, Tito.”

He sighs, “Yeah. It was so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t’ve had my hand like that there.”

“Hey! Dude, no. This is not your fault. And maybe it’s not the other guy's fault, either. But it’s definitely not your fault. How many times have you done the exact same thing and not been hurt? It’s not your fault.”

Tito’s silent for a bit; she listens to the jagged ins and outs of this breath. Eventually, with a voice so quiet, she’s only able to hear him due to the utter silence in her apartment: “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

She feels a lump form in her throat and tries to clear it away. “You said they’re sending you home?”

“Yeah. It’s definitely broken, so I won’t be playing for a while. It’s probably too late for a flight tonight, so I’m probably going to be on an early one tomorrow.”

They're both silent for a moment, letting that hang in the air.

“Can I pick you up from the airport?”

“You really don’t have to do that. The team’ll pay for a Lyft.”

“Are you going to be on pain meds?”

“Yeah. I’m already feeling it, to be honest,” Tito says with a light laugh.

“Are they sending you back alone?”

“Yeah, it isn't a concussion, so I don’t need supervision.”

“Okay. Then, I would like to pick you up if that’s okay.”

“I—” He pauses for a long time, breaths getting heavier. When he continues talking, his voice comes through thick, “I really don’t want to put you out, but if you’re offering, I would really like that.”

“Well, I'm offering, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me the deets?”

“Yeah.” She feels something in her chest loosen. “And Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She chuckles, “No problem. Text me. And try to have a good sleep.”

“You too,” he whispers, pausing before hanging up.

Putting her phone down on the coffee table, she lets out a shaky breath.

Evie — January 3

“Are you sure you want me to drop you off at yours?” Evie asks, looking over to Tito in her passenger seat. His curls poke out under the hood of his sweater, and his skin looks pale and clammy. His usually bright blue eyes are dulled, shadowy smudges betraying his lack of sleep. 

He sends her a soft smile before closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest. “Yes, please.” His voice sounded as tired as he looked.

“Okay.” 

Evie reaches over and gives his good hand a light squeeze before pulling away from the airport. She keeps the drive to his apartment quiet, and she's surprised that she feels less tense than on her drive to O’Hare despite the silence. 

Every so often, she peeks over at Tito, cradling his wrist, eyes closed, and face carefully neutral. She doesn’t feel good about leaving him alone in his apartment, but she also knows that they haven’t known each other long enough for her to insist.

Half an hour later, she pulls into the entrance of a very fancy-looking apartment building in the center of Downtown Chicago. The doorman helps them unload Tito’s suitcase and drags it into the lobby for him. 

Too soon, they're left standing at the curb.

“Thank you so much,” Tito says, his tired eyes warming a little as he regards her.

“It’s absolutely no problem. Please let me know if you need any help, okay? I make my own hours and work from home for a reason. Call me anytime.”

His smile broadens. “Seriously, Evie. Thank you. You didn’t have to come get me.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

Tito leans in for a hug that Evie reciprocates, careful to avoid his broken hand. They stay connected for a few seconds longer than normal, but neither complains.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be then,” Evie says after they disconnect, stepping into her car with a nod.

Tito remains at the curb, one hand in a sling, the other reaching up for a wave as she pulls away. His figure stays in her rearview until she turns the corner.

Tito — January 11

The days that follow the injury become monotonous quickly. Tito wakes up. He does his morning routine. He takes his pain meds. He rides with Foligno and Bedard into the training facility. He gets poked at by some doctors and told to not do anything with his hand. He rides the bike by himself while everyone else gets to skate. He avoids Bedsy angrily pouting in the hallways; not his rookie, not his problem. He goes home and sits on his couch, just clicking play on whatever comes up on Netflix. He eats his microwavable frozen meal plan. He watches the team drop three of four games. He sleeps. 

Rinse and repeat. 

It has only been a week, and he's close to losing his mind already. The only bright spots are his ongoing text conversation with Evie, and his daily FaceTime calls with Barz. The boxes still sit unopened in the corner; well, at least he has a good excuse now. 

Today was meant to be a break in the monotony. While the team is on a short road trip, Tito’s schedule is a little different. No one ever talks about how uncomfortable it is to drive with a broken wrist. The facility is only 15 minutes away, so he figures that he’ll go in to see the trainers and maybe do some grocery shopping afterward. 

The plan was going quite well until he noticed that he had a flat tire on his way to the grocery store. 

He pulls over to the side of the road and just sits there for a minute, fighting the urge to cry. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel, letting out a small scream before he gets out to assess the damage. He mutters a few choice swears when he eventually finds the big nail in his tire. 

He pulls out his phone and texts Evie while he returns to the driver's seat.

To evie 🧁: i told you my year would be unlucky [attachment: photo of his flat tire]

He starts looking for the roadside assistance card, but since it's a new rental, he’s still frustratedly fumbling around when his phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers, not even looking at his phone.

“Tito, what’s going on?”

He pauses his rustling, surprised to hear Evie’s warm voice pouring through the sound system. The familiarity of the French immediately relaxes him. He sighs.

“Oh, um. I was driving to the store. And I just realized the tire was flat. I think the hole has been there for a while, but because of the wrist and stuff, I hadn’t driven since before the roadie.”

“Shit. That’s annoying. Where are you? You wanna drop me a pin or something. I can help you change your tire; you definitely can’t do it with a broken wrist.”

He pauses, surprised by the offer. “Oh! Um… I was just going to call roadside assistance. If I can just find the card…”

“Don’t be stupid. That’s gonna take ages. If you’re close by, I can come help.”

“Um… Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” she huffs, “I could use a break from the computer anyway. I’ll grab my coat and keys.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’m probably not far away because I just left the training center like 5 minutes ago.”

“Sweet, no problem. Drop me a pin, and I’ll be right there.”

In less than 10 minutes, Evie is stepping out of her car in her wool coat, leather gloves, and an oversized winter scarf that cocoons her up to her nose. She smiles and waves as she jogs over to give him a tight hug. Whatever tension was left in his body from the long week drains from his body as her arms wrap tightly around him. 

They remain connected for a few seconds, his face buried in the mess of scarf and hair around her neck; her perfume fills his lungs with warmth despite the cold Chicago winter air.

“Thanks again for coming.”

“Stop thanking me. My god.” She exaggeratedly rolls her eyes as they finally separate. She starts getting all the tools as she says, “I want to help the city’s best winger. It’s a public service. I’ll forward the bill to the owner. Or maybe even the mayor.”

It startles a laugh out of him, relaxed by her light-heartedness. He realizes that he has been kind of down recently, only leaving his apartment for meetings with trainers. 

“Well, I hope you’ll charge them a fair rate, considering the express service surcharge. You did get here very quickly.”

She nods mock-sternly, “Yes, of course.”

With all the necessary tools laid out next to her, she bends down to begin jacking up the car. He fishes out his snow jacket from the trunk and hands it to her. 

“Here. So you don’t have to kneel on the ground.”

She smiles up at him from where she’s knelt, “Thanks.”

The rest of the tire change happens in silence; Tito’s content to let her focus on what she’s doing. He watches intently and doesn't want to acknowledge his embarrassment that, at 26 years old, he still doesn't know how to change a tire. 

As she’s working, it starts to snow lightly. The flakes stand out against her glossy coffee-dark hair that has fallen to curtain her face, and Tito resists the urge to brush it back so she can see better in the overcast dimness. He stuffs his hands in his pockets to have something to do with them.

When she’s done a short while later, she spins around, still kneeling, beaming up at him with pride as she sings, “Voila!” 

At that moment, as she sparkles up at him, their eyes meet, and a snowflake catches on her eyelashes. It hits him square in the chest; this might be the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. The realization knocks into him so unexpectedly that he has to fight through the tightness in his throat to exclaim back in excitement.

“Awesome!” he strains.

“Yep!” Her voice is bright and melodic as she turns back to lower the car. “It’s all done. You’re going to need to get this tire patched or something at a shop, though, and—”

She continues to explain some important details that are totally lost on him as he tries to quash the twisting of his guts. She is indeed beautiful, engaging, and scarily competent, but none of that matters. 

None of that matters because his stay in Chicago is temporary. So he takes that feeling and shoves it down deep. But, he hopes that a transient athlete who is, as it turns out, not very good at his job will adequately fulfill the role of Good Friend.

Being a good friend is something he can do. 

Being a good friend is something he’s good at.

“— groceries for dinner, if you want?” 

He tunes back in just in time to catch the end of what she's saying. Maybe he should also retract the previous statement about being a good friend.

“Um, I’m sorry. I’m feeling kinda out of it. What was the question?”

She laughs and squeezes his elbow sympathetically. “Tito, it’s okay. You’re kinda pale right now. Like, you look like you’re gonna be sick. Look, I know you said you were going to the grocery store, but I really don’t think you should be driving and stuff right now. I’ve got plenty of food at mine. I was probably going to cook pasta or something tonight. Just come over and hang out? It’ll make me feel better.”

He mulls it over, and the dull throbbing in his wrist convinces him to nod. It does sound much better than what he had been doing this past week.

So they do just that. Tito isn't complaining: not about the delicious home-cooked meal or watching B99 again. He didn’t realize he was waiting to watch it with her. They find themselves pausing the show numerous times just to chat about something the show brings up: a memory from childhood, something from her life in Toronto or his life in New York, or just a passionate opinion that they have. 

He's burrowed deep into the opposite end of her couch with the latest cup of tea she has made him, feeling more at home than he has in over a month when he discovers the time is so much later than he thought.

“Oh crap, it’s past 10 pm. I really should get going,” Tito says, finally sitting up.

“Shit, I didn’t even see that,” she laughs. Evie looks out the window. “You know. It’s really late, you’re on pain meds, and the roads look kinda slippery with the new snow. Why don’t you just stay here? This couch actually has a really comfy pull-out bed— my brother Will said so anyway when he visited.”

“Oh,” he pauses, comfortable and heavy-limbed but uncertain, “I don’t really have anything with me.”

“That should be okay. I’ve got a bunch of extra toiletries and some of Brandy and Will’s clothes.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, if that’s really okay with you, I’d love to not have to drive home with my wrist. It sucks.”

“Of course,” she smiles, reaching over and squeezing his knee before standing up and walking into her bedroom.

He figures he should help, so he moves the warm fuzzy blanket she had over her legs and the throw pillows to the corner of the room. He clears the tea mugs that litter the coffee table before pushing it back. He’s inspecting the couch for the pull-out function when Evie returns with a small pile of sheets and clothes and a few pillows.

“Oh, thanks for clearing the space!” She smiles at him brightly. “So, I found you a T-shirt and some sweatpants. There are spare toiletries under the sink.”

“Thanks. You’re truly the best.”

“You are so right,” she winks, laughing softly. 

They put together the couch-bed in tandem, and both take turns getting ready for sleep. Eventually, Evie, in her pajamas, bids him goodnight warmly before shutting her bedroom door, and he's left lying on the pull-out bed looking around at the living room, lit only by the city lights streaming through with big windows. 

Tito — January 19

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’ve been replacing me with this girl, and you haven’t even bothered to introduce us?”

“Okay, Barz, that’s a little dramatic. I have not been replacing you.” Tito desperately pleads with his eyes for Mat to stop talking so loud in this somewhat nice Italian restaurant he and Evie had discovered a few nights ago.

“No, seriously. Why didn’t you invite her? You should invite her. You know what? I’ll do it. Hand me your phone—” Mat makes a desperate grab for Tito’s phone that was sitting face down on the table. 

Tito puts his hand on it and whispers. “Dude, stop it. I’d like to come back here again sometime. The food’s actually so good.”

Mat grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “Oooh, come back here again, like on a date with Evie?” he says, dragging out her name in a suggestive tone.

“No, Barz. Not a date. We’ve been over this. We’re just hanging out- like you and me. We’re friends. That’s it. Neither of us even wants to date right now anyway.”

“Okay, bud. If you say so.” Mat rolls his eyes while taking a sip of his wine. “So, you’re saying if you were both open to dating, you’d be interested.”

“No— Well—” Tito pauses and sighs. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. And it’s not what’s happening, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, come on, Beau. I’ve known you for ages, dude. There is no way— you’re telling me that you’ve seen her almost every single day, for most of the day, this whole month, and you haven’t even thought about it?”

Tito sighs pointedly, clenching his jaw. “Yes. I haven’t thought about it. Because there’s nothing to think about. We text. We hang out. We watch TV and eat food. We—” He cuts himself off abruptly. He knows if he mentions the sleepovers, even though he's always on the pull-out couch, Mat will take it the wrong way. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I get to see you, like, twice during the season. I want to hear all your dumb stories.”

Mat eyes him skeptically but eventually relents. “My stories aren’t dumb. But okay. So, last week…” he excitedly recounts.

The night returns to a familiar rhythm. He misses this: the easy conversation with a guy who’s known you for ten years. There are no awkward lulls or having to explain a joke or backstory. It’s just comfortable, and it feels like home: a warmth burrowed deep in his chest. 

There’s a gaping vacancy that gnaws at him later when he’s lying in his own bed, unable to sleep. It’s almost as if Mat took that feeling of home with him when he gave him a lingering hug goodbye, squeezing Tito so hard it hurt a little.

He stares at the ceiling and thinks about how his favorite sleep shirt— one of his early Islanders t-shirts with a 72 on it— was still at Evie’s apartment. He also thinks about the hoodie that he left there.

The team's about to head on an extended roadie while he remains behind, doing not much. He hates it when he’s the one left behind watching the team play without him. That’s the thing with professional sports. You’re around a team all day, every day, for most of the year. You know everything about everyone. You’re almost never alone. Which makes it all the more stark when you’re with a new group of faces. Or when you’re suddenly stuck at home, injured, and alone.

He leans over and picks up his phone, the sudden brightness of the screen making him squint. 

To evie 🧁 : hey, so on second thought, if the offer still stands, i’d like to stay over this week? totally okay if you changed your mind. just figured it’d be nice to have some company, and you’re much closer to the rink. To evie 🧁: and you still have my favorite hoodie. i want it back.

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[loversj0y]

HELLO! first of all, i TOTALLY adore your fics, and i LOVE reading them, and i really love your writing style! i was wondering if u can do a fic of wilbur and reader having cystic fibrosis? it's a lung disease, and ya know.. i have it, it could be based off of taylor swift's song "Soon You'll Get Better." i was reading your fics and they bring so much comfort, that's one of the reasons why i adore them! KEEP WRITING, NEVER STOP DOING WHAT YOU LOVE!!!! i support it!✨️✨️✨️💗💗

soon you'll get better

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! cystic fibrosis! reader

tws: hospitals, illness, brief death mention, hypochondria

notes: this one was a bit of a challenge but i did a lot of research on cystic fibrosis to hopefully get an accurate portrayal, but im sorry if it isnt! also i absolutely love this song, its devastating but so underrated imo

word count: 1.6k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

When you and Wilbur got together, you were quick to let him know about your Cystic Fibrosis. He was nervous, a consequence of not knowing much about it and his own hypochrondria. He never got totally used to it, the coughing and shortness of breath, especially on bad days. But he got better about it. He did so much research he almost seemed to know more about it than you did. He was alway particularly cautious with everything he learned, disinfecting the house as often as he could, always wearing a mask in public to protect himself. His biggest fear was getting you sick.

But illness wasn’t inevitable. In fact, it was something of a constant in your life. 

The first sign was the fatigue. It usually wasn’t good, but it was far worse today. You could barely leave bed, and Wilbur was immediately concerned. 

“Darling,” he asked softly as he came in with some soup he’d made you for lunch, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should be fine, Wil,” you smiled, sitting up and gently squeezing his hand, “Just a bit of a flare up. Thank you, darling.” 

He gently carded his hands through your hair and nodded, though he wasn’t totally satisfied with your answer. You weren’t totally able to stomach the soup, eating a few bites before feeling overly full. Wilbur tried to get you to eat more, but you couldn’t be bothered. He did help you get into a bath, which was wonderful since the steam helped ease your irritated sinuses and lungs, as well as your tired muscles. 

He helped you get out of the bath after, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead as he helped you into bed once more. He brought you your medicine as well, along with a glass of something orange. 

“What is this?” You chuckled softly, broken up by a bout of coughing. 

He bit his lip out of concern, handing your medicine and the glass to you once you’d calmed a bit. “It’s, uh, one of those immune drinks. Orange flavored. Figured it may help with the flare up.” 

You smiled softly, “That’s sweet of you. Thanks, love,” you took the glass and quickly took your meds, drinking the rest of the slightly sweet liquid to help ease Wilbur’s worries. It was a mostly quiet night, though broken up with coughing a bit harder than usual. 

It wasn’t a usual flare up. Two days later, and you were seeing a hyperactive version of Wilbur hypochrondria as he sat with you in the hospital. You were quite weak for a lot of the initial conversations, but you managed to catch a few quick words. Notably, ‘infection’, ‘treatment’, and some bacteria name that truthfully sounded like someone speaking another language. You put the pieces together easily. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get respiratory infections, especially when you were younger.

Wilbur handled it worse than you seemed to. When you came around fully, Wilbur was watching you. It was clear he hadn’t slept. 

“Hey, love,” you smiled softly, “fancy seein’ you here, eh?” You spoke around and tried to ignore the cannula in your nostrils.

He didn’t laugh. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? You,” he was tense as he spoke, clearly uncomfortable by the hospital lighting raining over you both, “You’ve been out for a day and a half.”

You sighed, and your response was cut off before it began by a round of coughing so hard it felt like your lungs were trying to escape you. “Believe it or not,” you hummed out weakly, trying to clear your throat a bit, “Not the worst. Probably, on a scale of one to ten, a four or five.”

He sighed, and you took his hand, squeezing it tightly, “I’m alright, love. This has happened before.”

“Is it alright?” He almost whined, “Darling, the doctor said if we’d waited any longer to get you here, it could’ve been deadly. You could’ve died if I didn’t decide to stay home that day. You could still die if the bacteira doesn’t clear out fast enough, I-” he was breathing quickly, clearly panicking.

“Hey, hey, Wilbur,” you held his hand a bit tighter, trying to sit up and pull him close. Once you tried to move, it was like he snapped into action, moving his chair closer and keeping you from sitting up. You coughed, a bit lighter now, and he frowned again, holding your hand once more.

“Don’t move around too much, please. You need to save your energy.” “God, Wilbur, come on. I’ll be alright. I know you’re worried, but this is new for you. This is not new for me. I know it’s serious, but I promise you, I’ll be okay. I’m stronger than I look.”

Wilbur looked at you like you were delusional, but he didn’t respond. You reached your hand forward, lightly fixing his hair.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” you noted, gently placing your hand on his cheek.

He chuckled sardonically, “You are possibly the only person who would literally be hospitalized and worry more about me instead.”

You smiled fondly, “I’m used to all this,” you gestured at yourself and the hospital equipment scattered around you, “I’m also used to being there for you. And that’s not changing just because I’m here. C’mon,” you shifted, and Wilbur whined, standing and trying to help you.

“What are you doing, darling? Let me help.”

“I want to scoot over,” you shifted again, another round of coughing hitting you strongly, “‘n give you space to lay here with me.”

“You shouldn’t-” he sighed, not even really bothering to continue arguing. He moved his arms under you, gently moving you over, “I’m not supposed to be in there with you. The nurses-”

“I don’t care what the nurses say. I’m the ill one, so they have to let me do what I want. Now, come here. I want to hold you.”

He chuckled softly, carefully lying down next to you. He was a bit too tall for the bed, feet hanging off ever so slightly. But regardless, you curled up against his side, kissing his chest lightly. 

“I know you’re scared for me,” you spoke quietly, “but I promise you, it’s just a bad deal. I’ll be out sooner than you think.”

He nodded softly, kissing the top of your head. He managed to fall asleep a few minutes later, and you went with him. 

You were not out “sooner than you’d think”. It took a week before you were released. It was a grim week, doctors telling you about “Pseudomonas aeruginosa” and trying different things, from oxygen masks to humidifiers to loosen the mucus, to numerous medications. Wilbur wasn’t allowed to stay in bed with you the whole time, but he was always by your side.

“You know,” you’d told him one day, both of you eating some random cafeteria food, “I think when we get back home, we should paint the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, but the tenseness surrounding his opinion of hospitals and illness in general didn’t fade away, “What color?”

You smiled cheekily, “Well, now, hear me out. I’m thinkin’ like… a neon pink.”

He laughed, sputtering a bit, “Neon pink? Why?”

“I just think it’d be a good way to brighten our days. I mean, imagine,” you paused, coughs leaking into your words, “we wake up, it’s raining outside, right? We go to make coffee, and bam! Instead of a normal, boring kitchen, our days have gone from cold and gloomy to bright and exciting.”

He laughed a bit, gently playing with your hair, “Hm, maybe. We’ll consider it, once you’re back home.”

You smiled at the note of him acknowledging that you’d be coming home. 

That night you hadn’t been able to sleep, body wracked with coughing all night as nurses and doctors alike worked to try and find a solution.

The next day was better. Mid day, you sat halfway down the bed, Wilbur sitting behind you. He’d brought some hair products since you’d complained about how dry your hair felt from the hospital’s shampoo and conditioner. He carefully combed through your hair, helping apply a leave-in conditioner to help your hair. A nurse walked in with your medication, but you smiled upon seeing her. She was one of the nicer nurses, went by the name Puffy. She never made Wilbur move out from bed, and you quickly preferred her to the other nurses. 

“Alright, it’s meds time, kiddo,” she joked lightly, bringing in your medication and a glass of water.

You reached for it, Wilbur briefly stopping his hair brushing. The medicine wasn’t hard to take, thankfully you’d gotten quite used to it over the years. She smiled, speaking while you took it.

“Last night was a scare for sure, but, you’re getting better. I suspect a few more days before they get you out of here.”

You smiled at her, “Hey, if we give it a bit longer, I could hit a new personal record.”

She laughed at that, but Wilbur clearly didn’t appreciate the joke, one hand coming to wrap around your lower waist. 

She left shortly after, but Wilbur didn’t move from his place against you. 

“You’ll get better,” he murmured softly, placing a gentle kiss on your head, “Soon, you’ll get better.” He kissed your head again, wrapping his arms further against you. You leaned back into him fully, sighing and letting yourself relax.

When you did get released from the hospital, Wilbur was there for everything. He got your medications, making sure he had a timer set for exactly when you needed to take the antibiotics. He took care of you every step of the way, making sure to be by your side. With his help, it wasn’t long before the infection cleared up, and his earlier words, his notion of getting better, were soon a reality. 

[redstringraven]

For the TMNT asks: 3 (for TMNT 2003), 8, and 27!

;u; thank!!!! 💜

TMNT's 40th anniversary ask game!

3.) what was your first impression of tmnt'03?

gosh. i think i was in my early teens when it started airing? my sisters and i had extremely limited tv time; we were only allowed an hour of tv a day, so we had to be in agreement on what shows we wanted to spend it on. this, of course, made us really picky when it came to exploring shows we were unfamiliar with. i'd guess that maybe an episode of tmnt'03 started playing after the show we had watched was over. i vaguely remember thinking something like "ninja turtles? that's a really silly and weird concept--i'm curious to see how that goes", and i must have convinced my sister to give up the other half-hour of tv time we had left to spend it trying the show out. and we both fucking loved it. we kind of had to fight our mom tooth and nail because she didn't like that "what the shell" was so close to "what the hell", and looking back on it, it's hilarious that that was one of her biggest hang-ups when leo would later behead shredder on screen. >xDD among other things. but eh. she let us watch it! i think my sister(s) and i watched it consistently up until the weirdness of season 5 being semi-aired, semi-cancelled, mostly replaced by fast forward happened.

8.) which turtle is usually your favorite?

i tend to not have one nowadays, if we're being entirely honest. my 'favorite' tends to shift with what i feel like writing, what character aspects catch my attention, what worldbuilding details i want to expand, etc etc. there're so many things i love and adore and find fascinating about each of them, and i genuinely can't point to a favorite because it just... depends! as a kid, though, don was my favorite (he was also wearing purple and i am severely biased toward purple). mikey was my middle sister's favorite and raph was my youngest sister's favorite. full, unbridled appreciation for leo would come with time. i've noticed that when i do sometimes venture outside of '03, i tend to favor raph. so, there's that if it counts for anything.

27.) what is something you love to see in TMNT art/fics?

this is a vague and unspecific answer but i just really, really love when an artist/writer captures the feeling of warm and peaceful downtime. action and drama and challenges of character are fun and good and great, too, but. GODS, do i love when i can just see or read about the boys living their day to day lives, as peacefully as possible, in the warmth and comfort of each other or their friends, all captured in a way that makes you feel like you're just stood off to the side somewhere and happened to stumble upon the scene. those candid moments where they can just... be. and they don't always need to be happy, necessarily; i love an introspective "let's get coffee at 2am, go for a drive and sit on the hood of the car just outside the city and chat" scene, or a more melancholic sit at the lakeside discussing a heavy topic with someone you trust. things where the stakes are relatively low, but the impact is no less meaningful. if that makes sense? farmhouse stuff. i fucking love farmhouse stuff.

[thera-daydreams]

as someone who has read both your jjk and darkling fics, i’m gathering that the grishaverse sw is much more unstable than the jjk sw

like it seems that all the mcu events are really fresh in her mind and she seems to lose control more easily than her jjk counterpart

also is there a reason why in the jjk fic she uses a fake name (the yn/ln) and in the darkling fic she uses wanda? (although i think it really fits the universe like it sounds straight out of it)

omg you've read both? 🥺❤️

my heart is super full!

but yeah! although both the jjk!sw!reader and grishaverse!sw!reader traversed through time and space for a really long time to destroy all copies of the darkhold, after that, the paths they choose somewhat diverge? (but both of them swore off their magic for a while because whew, the darkhold did her dirty. grishaverse!sw!reader was more adamant on not using it again, though, compared to jjk!sw!reader who used it for small tricks and tasks and eventually just uses it again)

in the events of the fic, jjk!sw!reader has already been in the jjk universe for a few years now, setting up a cafe/bakery & she's met yuuji when he was still a young kid then later on adopted him after his grandpa died

jjk!sw!reader is also less afraid to rebuild her life again and form relationships with new people (our jjk characters)—she just wants to protect them and that's her peace and she's more or less happy with her new life (and my jjk fic is my personal comfort fic after wandavision and the way gege crushed my heart in the manga that's why it's got more happy-go-lucky vibes lol it WILL have a happy ending for everyone)

on the other hand, grishaverse!sw!reader chose the path to be a hermit in tsibeya and accept her "fate" to be alone forever. she just arrived to the grishaverse about a year ago only or so. she's MUCH more paranoid and scared to form relationships again. (but our baby wanda is GOOD i know it—and that's why she can't help but save the otkazat'sya kids, take them in, send them to the little palace, and be a gardener there to secretly watch over them. and as much as she didn't want to, she already loves those kiddos like her own)

still, she feels like it was the wrong choice when our pushy shadow daddy gets sus of her and keeps questioning her around (and wanda was never a good liar hahaha). little does she know he's been dreaming of her and what's happened to her; he just didn't know it was real and her that time. the universe (ahem, me, the author) is sending them signals to JUST BE TOGETHER AAAAAH.

grishaverse!sw!reader is scared to love again because losing everyone was always the price. then she saw the premonition of the terrible series of events that's happened (and will happen) in the grishaverse. so this gal is ALONE, PARANOID, TRAUMATIZED, and UNSTABLE, you are correct! and she has no one to confide in (yet). girl i'd go crazy too.

her choosing to be alone (even as the palace gardener, she's tucked away in her special little corner) also kind of exacerbates her instability? because she's gonna keep replaying her past + sins in her head over and over again with no one to keep her in check. sadly, she has no support system right now like jjk!sw!reader. :(

oh! and for the darkling fic, i think using "wanda maximoff" just sounded PERFECT for the grishaverse setting instead of y/n l/n, hehe. it kinda irks me though that it's... not that correct? if based on our slavic countries. (starkov for alina instead of starkova, morozova for aleks instead of morozov, etc.) but maybe it's the ravkan way of writing surnames so eh.

anyway, i super loved answering this ask! it made me so happy to see someone compare the two sw!readers in my fics. if you have more questions or comments, pleaaaase share them to me! 🥰💖

[hallufabrication]

It's a small world

A fic about various things I wanted to write about instead of rambling about them; focuses on Manta and Hannah. The whole thing is under the cut.

Manta didn’t expect his and Hannah’s connection to fizzle out the way it did.

Not that he was expecting anything specific; She wasn’t someone he would really consider a friend. At the same time, though, he couldn’t deny that they weren’t exactly strangers, either. They hung out sometimes, she tried to help him during his illegal race against Corto, and they bonded over how great they thought Teach tech was – something that left a bitter taste in his mouth now.

He would have expected some kind of a lukewarm goodbye, or an awkward wave as they stepped onto the boats meant to take them to their homes. But as the boat steering towards the Solar Sea took off, there was no exchange between them - in fact, he wasn’t even anywhere nearby, instead preparing for his and Shino’s attempt at getting a better life for themselves.

He did think then if he should have approached her outburst the day before the way he did. Back then, he didn’t see it as anything more than a show of weakness; she wouldn’t have lasted a day in what he had to live through on Polaris. Why should she get sympathy for being a double-crosser? For only feeling bad now that it was too late anyway, now that Gavinda’s plan was in full swing?

But it wasn’t too late. Not to her and the Tikis, anyway. And she did her part in fighting against Teach…

Unlike him, at first.

No, Hannah wasn’t weak. After everything, Manta could tell that much.

Maybe he shouldn’t have underestimated how cruel Teach could have been to her. Maybe that shouldn’t have been his last words to her.

“Oh well. Too bad”, he thought, going back to packing his stuff. What’s done is done.

He hasn’t really thought about this, or anything related to the Mirages, for the next few months. He had more important things on his mind - building a new life from scratch with Shino (and Debbie) on an entirely new island was challenging enough to take away any time he could have had for reminiscing about his old acquaintances from the Whale Cup.

They weren’t on his mind these few months later, as he was walking through one of the lesser known alleys of Tortuga to his boat, either - at least not until he saw a familiar looking silhouette walking through one of the streets he’d usually pass.

“Hannah?” He called out instinctively, more out of surprise than anything else.

“Oh– hi, Manta.” She replied, turning around to face him. “Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah, but– What are you doing here?”

“On Tortuga? I came for the Rotor Punch, obviously.” She shrugged. “But, I wanted to see how you’re doing with my own two eyes while I’m here, too.”

“You heard of me?” He asked, squinting his eyes.

“Duh. It’d be harder to not hear of the famous White Tiger, honestly.” She said, leaning on the wall next to her. “You’re taking Aquagram by storm– You know that, right?”

He shrugged and made an indecipherable hum. Debbie did tell him that he was getting more popular day by day, but he never really got interested in how popular he was outside of Tortuga, exactly. His winning streak mattered to him more than whatever she was doing over on her hologlove.

“Wait, but– Rotor Punch? You’re competing?”

“What, you think I can’t handle it?”

“It’s just– I didn’t know if you’d still be racing after… Everything.”

Hannah frowned for a short second, but quickly smirked instead.

“It takes more than that to make me quit, you know. I managed to get into Solar Empire’s drone guard.”

She crossed her arms, still leaning on the wall.

“So, I’m the one representing the Empire this year.”

“Oh, wow. You got yourself a solid position, huh?” He said, walking over and sitting down on the stairs next to her. “How’d you even do that?”

“Eh, turns out getting to the finals of the Whale Cup was good enough of an achievement to sign up. Only had to climb a few ranks after that.”

“Pshf, sounds easy.” He teased. She only hummed in response.

“What about Adam? Is he participating with you?”

A slight grimace showed up on Hannah’s face. Manta wasn’t sure how to decipher what emotion it was supposed to show.

“...No, he’s not. He hasn’t reached out to me after Teach’s defeat.”

“Oh.” Manta said. “...Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Hannah sighed, sitting next to him on the stairs.

“...I haven’t tried to reach him, either. At first I thought I should, since Teach manipulated him, too, but… He was always more invested in her plans than I was. It seems like we both picked our sides.”

“...I see.”

“Yeah.”

A moment of silence fell upon them.

“And you’re…not worried?”

Hannah glared at him for a few seconds before deciding on an answer.

“I… don’t know. I have mixed feelings about it all.” She stated, resting her chin on her hand.

“Teach was cruel to him, too. She’s not going to suddenly do a 180. But, if that was his choice, then–”

She suddenly waved with the same hand in the air, leaning back.

“--so be it! I’m not going to chase after someone who made up their mind!”

She let out something between a groan and a sigh, hiding her face with her hands for a moment.

“...What’s it to you, anyway? I didn’t take you for the type to talk about this kinda stuff.”

Manta shrugged, looking somewhere else.

“You were the one who said it’s been a while.”

“Heh– yeah, that’s true.” She chuckled. “I guess it did a number on you.”

“Hmm.”

They sat for a moment in silence before Hannah stood up from the stairs.

“...Well, I should go. I take it you’re taking part in the Rotor Punch too, right?”

“Of course. Who do you take me for?”

“Yeah, thought so.” She smirked again, turning back to go about her way.

“I’ll see you around, then. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“Psh, as if I’d need that. But yeah. See you around.” He replied, also getting up from the sidewalk.

As he got back to walking to his boat, he felt a sense of a relief he didn’t expect.

Turns out, he was sorta glad to see her again.

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Ok, ok, glad you liked the art! There's more to come because I am full of ideas and sadness! Prepare!

Anywho, now that I have rambled about the boys a lot (and trust me, there's definitely more where that came from), I thought I'd take a change of pace and focus on others.

Like Buggy. What we know is he escapes, possibly due to running away (which will probably haunt him forever) or getting saved by someone. He does meet someone, as you've said before, but who? Could it be Dragon? Does our greedy, narcissistic clown somehow become a revolutionary? Maybe it's a marine. Did a marine see this kid and go, "Screw it, I'm not killing kids," and let him go? Does he run into Smoker? Start a traumatize boy band (now I wanna write the fic we’re buggy and smoker run into each other after lougetown.) Or is it someone else, someone I wouldn't have guessed in a million years? Doflamingo, perhaps? That would be the meeting from hell. One of the other would-be warlords? And what happens to him? Does he spend the next two years trying to help Shanks in any way he can? Does he do mostly what he's done in canon and go for the One Piece? Or is he a warlord? Did he make deals with the world government for Shanks? ‘Gasp’ I'm gasping at nothing but thinky thoughts, but eh, I'll just throw some crazy in there for fun.

Also, are you going to add pirates we know to Loguetown who get caught, aside from the characters we already know? There are a few characters we see in canon that could be the right age to have been around. You could just slip them in there to add more people to the "Fun Time with World Government!™️" and more people Shanks and Mihawk can bounce off of while captured and once they get out. You said that they won't trust anyone who didn't go through what they went through, so not a lot of allies or having civil conversations. But maybe that's the point... oh well, whatever you do, I'm sure I'll love it.

Also, this pirate generation needs a name. If the last generation were the Great Pirates, maybe this generation could be the Silenced Generation? And later, after the two years, the Monster Generation.

And propaganda, does Roger's message about the One Piece get out there like it did in the main timeline? Not a lot of people escaped from the excision, so that's not a lot of people to spread the word. Is the World Government suppressing it after all? They didn't mean for Roger to tell the crowd, so why in hell would they want that driving force that created pirates who are specifically seeking a piece of the Void Century and possibly information on Joy Boy or Nika? So, do they turn it into, instead of a last word, a rumor? Like Davy Jones or Nolan and his Sky Island, like it's a fun bedtime story but nothing that's actually real.

Those are all the questions I have today hopefully I’ll get you that new art out soon no promises but I will try! Seriously thanks for indulging my asks, I know you don’t ow me any of you time and it’s cool that you’ve given me some. Anyways off to dreamland for me!

Prepared and so excited! See, with Buggy, it's a mess. If this AU is the sort-of inverse of canon events, Buggy has to keep his beef with Shanks. That happens because Shanks is the one who saves him. He gets him to safety, and then gets himself caught to lead the marines away from him. But from Buggy's perspective, Shanks abandoned him. Which. He's going to spend his time torn between grief/worry/resentment and thinking Shanks got what he deserved, (because Buggy is vindictive like that) only to find out how wrong he was. During the end of the two years, he's going to try to help Shanks, though. Him and Smoker do meet, Smoker being the one to spur him into helping Shanks. Smoker is going to go the way of Vergo in this AU, at least as far as the marines are concerned. Dragon is going to pick up some key players, (wink, wink) and he would save a child. So that's Buggy, even though Buggy doesn't espouse revolutionary ideas. (and Buggy would be even more obsessed with the one piece, it's his way of coping) And here's the thing, once what the marines are doing starts coming out, there's going to be an alliance between the revolutionaries and pirates to protect themselves. Because after the marines get information out of the captured pirates, they will start hunting the free ones. Benn Beckmann is already around, and some other characters will come sooner, some later. Garp is going to be the one who brings Mihawk and Shanks and some of those characters together. It will take them a long time to trust anyone else, but they will. And the pirates who weren't captured but were still hunted count as having a shared experience in their books. As well as the people who have been hurt by or due to the government, especially children. (wink, wink) I was thinking the Ghost generation! Since the marines kept an entire swathe of these people in captivity for two-three years, living as nothing more than ghosts. The one piece declaration did get out, though yes, the WG is trying to make it seems like nothing more than the ravings of a madman. It still becomes a substantial rumor, though, because it's something for the the pirates left to cling onto while they are being hunted. And the WG also wants the one piece. So it's them, and not the pirates that initially began the search. They go out systematically raiding pirate ships and hideouts and work their way up from there. When Mihawk and Shanks get out, Shanks kicks off the real pirate hunt by confirming Roger's last words. Which he does for Buggy's sake. No rush! And you're welcome! Ask away as much as you want, my mind is full of this and I'll literally talk forever if given the chance!

[votederpycausemufins]

I'm finally back with another chapter of the hermit tommy fic, Surprisingly Familiar, after months of writers block caused by depression (among other things). A full explanation is found in the notes of the Ao3 version. A link to that is featured in the masterpost of the fic which itself is linked on the masterpost of my writing that's pinned to my blog (a lil complicated, but it keeps things organized)

I am also willing to talk to people on discord if people want. The main server I'm a part of is the Daily Grumbot server. I won't give a link since tumblr doesn't like posts with external links, so just go look for the post at dailygrumbot.tumblr.com!

With that, reminder that the hermit tommy au was created by @petrichormeraki and also anything suspiciously specific said by hels!techno might have some meaning to it, and enjoy the story!

Techno was put in charge of helping carry Doc around. Out of the group, he was the needed balance of being able to lift someone or something that heavy as well as having good mobility. Also Doc didn’t seem to want to be helped if his amount of hissing was anything to go by. 

While his missing cybernetics didn’t remove a leg or anything, his missing arm was heavier than his remaining one, so it was more of a difference compared to when he lost his original one. That paired with also losing his eye at the same time made him both unbalanced and without depth perception. They originally tried to let him walk on his own, but Doc instead quickly managed to start falling to the side before crashing into a wall after dealing with the uneven, vine-covered ground. So he was carried.

Without needing to focus on trying to keep upright, Doc instead was left to start mumbling to himself. It was a mix of various languages he knew, but for the most part in ones the others didn’t understand. And even with what they could understand every once and a while, it still wasn’t enough to know what exactly it was about. But at the very least, it seemed to be that he had some theory on what was causing this. Probably.

But they couldn’t really slow down to try and get an answer out of Doc. With what they had found earlier in the treehouse base and the strange animalistic noises they heard when finding Doc, the remaining members of the group knew they needed to keep moving.

“You know, if we can’t get answers from Doc, we might have to circle back.” Techno spoke up.

“We’ll have to circle back sooner or later. It’s not like we have a lot of space.” Mumbo replied, gesturing above them. They were still in the large dome of vines, which seemed to keep them mostly safe from the vines themselves, but whatever monster was around was a different story.

“Yeah, I get that.” Techno huffed. “The thing is, while I can carry Doc around better than most of you. I still can’t do it forever. So it might be nice if we head back or someone else tries carrying him.”

Since Mumbo had been the one to reply to Techno, everyone else used that as a bit of an opportunity to move a little bit faster and let it seem like Mumbo moved closer to offer. Once he realized, the redstoner sputtered a bit before relenting and taking Doc from Techno. The hand off didn’t go quiet so well, Mumbo nearly collapsing when he was given the brunt of Doc’s weight, but he recovered quickly and managed to carry him rather well.

“I guess carrying robots all day builds muscles, eh mate?” Phil asked, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“I suppose that’s part of it. But moving blocks around for building and redstone helps some too I would think.” Mumbo suggested, though it only got a shrug.

“I thought building wasn’t really your thing. I thought others did that.”

“We all do a little bit of everything.” Xisuma spoke up, though his voice was a little muffled from the vines over his helmet. “Mumbo tends to work more on the redstone side of things, but he’s not stuck there. And he does better at building than Grian at redstone.”

Phil laughed a bit at that before conceding. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Plus redstone’s not all that practically useful if it’s not built somewhere, huh? Can’t really be a door if there’s no building for it.”

“I mean I can still share the designs.” Mumbo huffed a little, his mustache turning into a frown, which simply drew more laughter from Phil, up until Paul, who had been quiet that whole time, shushed them all.

Everyone stopped, not saying a word, even trying to breathe as little as possible. They stood still other than adjusting their feet to best stay in a still position as well as ready to run or fight if necessary. Sounds that were distinctly not from the group came from the foliage around them, the question was if some creature was making them, or if it was simply some sort of breeze through the leaves.

Just as it looked like they were safe enough to keep moving, Doc hissed loudly, and then the creature Xisuma had seen before pounced from some bushes and other nearby greenery. Phil was the first to react, not as burdened by vines as the others. He slashed at the creature with a sword before it tried swiping its claws at him, barely being blocked by the sword in time.

Techno jumped in to help, attacking the creature from behind, hitting it with his axe, which ended up being rather ineffective. In the bit of stunned surprise that caused Techno, the creature swiped at him with enough force to knock him away and onto the ground. 

Since he had only just handed Doc off, Tech was already feeling a little exhausted. That and the fact that the creature seemed to be affected by combat differently made everyone worry. One of their remaining fighters was practically out for the count and they still didn’t know what would happen if any of them died. 

Before the creature could attack once more, Paul ran in, not with a sword or anything, but just slamming into the thing with his body. The group was still close to the edge of the dome of vines, close enough that with that attack, the creature broke through the wall of vegetation. Though it also seemed to be a sort of foe to Doc, the vines didn’t seem to care and also started wrapping and restraining the creature, it trying to escape its growing prison.

While the group was thankful that the jungle was taking that thing away, they were not so pleased that in getting the creature that far, Paul had to do the same. The vines also attempted to pull him away, likely to trap him with all the others that had been taken.

Xisuma was the first to try and drag him back, Techno and Phil still recovering while Mumbo dealt with Doc. Still, with Xisuma already being so covered that his breathing was hindered, the most he caused was that now the both of them were being dragged in.

Just as Phil rushed to help, there was a yelp from Mumbo as Doc had escaped his grip and rushed as best he could to Xisuma and Paul, hissing loudly. Everyone braced themselves on instinct, ready for an explosion, but it thankfully never came. The vines receded and let the pair go, allowing them to leave the edge of the dome and drag Doc with them.

“Holy fuck, what here you thinking?!” Phil shouted at Doc. “Were you trying to get some of us killed?!”

Doc just sat on the ground quietly, Mumbo and Xisuma both worried for their friend, but unnerved with how vulnerable he seemed. Doc wasn’t even mumbling or hissing any answer, just being completely quiet. 

“Fine, I guess we’ll just rest here. Hopefully whatever you did didn’t also give that thing a chance to possibly escape and attack us again.”

“Phil, calm down.” Techno tried to speak up. “Whatever he did worked. We don’t need to dwell on a what if right now.”

“I can’t calm down right now. We have been stuck in this whole thing for who knows how long and we’re going to be here for who the hell knows much longer. And while I would love to leave, I also don’t want it turning into a giant waste of time because someone almost screwed it up for all of us!”

“Can’t die here.” Came a mumble and everyone looked towards Doc. “They won’t…” Doc continued before it devolved into hisses.

“Doc, we can’t understand that last bit.” Xisuma spoke up, making Doc quiet again. “While he shouldn’t be yelling, Phil does have the slight point about how we should try and find a way out of this quickly. What you know would help a good deal.”

After a moment, Doc looked at his right arm, at least what little was left of it, as well as moved the stump. While the message that there was something related to his missing arm involved, Paul was the one to provide more context. “What’s Dinnerbone got to do with this?”

“Wait, you’re saying he really lost his arm to Dinnerbone?” Techno piped up. “Bruh, that’s kind of cool to hear.”

“If I recall correctly from what Doc has said, the two fought and Doc won, and as a sort of revenge, Dinnerbone just removed his arm.”

“Sounds like a sore loser.” Phil joked, having calmed down a little bit with the discussion helping to find a solution as opposed to running around more. “Is this all supposed to be more revenge?”

Doc shook his head, speaking again, but in a language none of them understood all that well. Still, the little information already given was a clue. They just needed to figure out what it meant.

“So,” Techno spoke up first. “Is this being caused by at least one of the gods?” It was that or it was supposed to be revenge by something else, which could have been the case, but was unlikely. And with Doc nodding, then of course it was the first idea.

“Is it still revenge?” Mumbo asked next. “You said it wasn’t more revenge, but maybe… another one got upset?”

“You think multiple gods could be upset at him?” Phil asked incredulously.

“I interacted with Notch, Dinnerbone was on the Mindcrack server a few times, Herobrine is a hermit as well as one of the Deaths.” Paul paused before adding on one more piece of evidence. “And also there’s Etho.”

Mumbo also jumped in before Phil could say more, looking like he might try to refute it. “Doc also has a knack for breaking the laws of the universe simply because he can. While most of it is taken well… I wouldn’t be surprised if something wasn’t.”

“Okay, fine, divine punishment. What for?” Phil conceded, looking at Doc, but was really fine with anyone answering. What he didn’t expect was Doc to nod and manage an answer, simply repeating “punish”. “Well… that’s just great.”

“So… punishment for something. The question is what for.” Mumbo spoke up, rubbing his chin before then asking. “It’s not due to another fight you had, right? Because then that would be the revenge we already said it couldn’t be. So, is it for any of your… disruptive redstone?”

Doc shook his head, doing the same when he was asked if it had any connection to the hivemind Doc had mentioned here and there. From there, there was a bit of sidetracked conversation with Techno comparing Doc’s hivemind to his chat and Phil’s crows. But eventually, they got back on topic.

“So, if it’s not any of those other things, what exactly could they punish you for?” Xisuma asked, and then everyone was quiet to let Doc respond, but he didn't. “Doc, whatever it is, we can’t help unless you tell us. It may be bad, but if we want to-“ 

Xisuma was stopped as Doc finally spoke up. “Knowledge.”

“What?”

“Know… shouldn’t.” Doc tried explaining, but only half the words could be understood. “…punish too…”

“That’s not great.” Phil huffed. “It’s something you’re in trouble for knowing, forbidden knowledge or some shit, so we can’t help out since we can’t know what it’s about?”

Doc agreed with Phil’s explanation, which had Mumbo place a reassuring hand on Doc’s shoulder. “Doc, I’m sorry that we can’t help you with that part… but if The Jungle was your punishment for… whatever it was, it already happened.”

“He’s right.” Paul spoke up, looking back towards Doc from where he stood leading the group along. “It seems this is about you worrying about the secret slipping and everyone else getting punished, but here we are, surrounded by that happening, probably to a greater extent than it would actually be, and you’re still tight lipped. I think that means you wouldn’t let it slip.”

Doc nodded in agreement, but the group could tell he didn’t fully agree. “Want to… though…” Doc spoke, careful with his words this time to make sure they could all be understood.

“Sorry, that’s not something we can really help you with.” Techno spoke up, the tone of his voice more lighthearted to try and lighten the mood at least a little. “Phil’s already a dinosaur, so Paul must be just as old, plus he knows some of the gods for better or worse.”

“I belong in a museum.” Paul responded, with a tone of voice that implied some sort of inside joke, especially with Phill laughing and even Doc managing a weak laugh.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is he might somehow know what you’re having trouble with. And if not him, then someone else. It can’t be everyone is off limits, right?”

“If not me, someone else from your server?” Paul suggested. “If it’s godly punishment, then for someone safe you might want to talk with I-”

He was cut off by a hiss from Doc, loud enough that no one could tell what Paul said, at least until he apologized and spoke again. “Sorry, I’m uh,,, bad at remembering chosen names it seems. Joe I believe then.”

With that mention, Doc nodded, and everyone took that as the answer to what had been said, not realizing that it was less of a mistake and more of an excuse.

“Even if you can’t talk with any of them, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to anyone at all.” Xisuma then said, hoping to give a suggestion. “Even though you can’t talk about it directly, you can still voice your worries. Being direct could get you hurt, which is a reasonable fear, but hopefully being indirect won’t get you in trouble. And now that we know the… safe information, you could come to me or Mumbo, or any of the other hermits. Though they would need a summary of what we’ve learned. Not to say we learned what you’re being punished for!” Xisuma quickly corrected at the mention of learning making Doc hiss.

“I think what they’re all trying to say.” Phil spoke up. “Is that there’s ways to get around the whole di-vine punishment and still talk about your feelings so it doesn’t screw you up on the inside. Because keeping it all close to the chest could hurt you.”

That seemed to be what finally got to Doc, because as he nodded, the vines started to disappear, followed by just about everything else around them, before being replaced by the next false reality they would have to go through.

.

.

.

Everyone was still silent from Grian’s question. No one was sure exactly what to say, though for wildly different reasons. One thing that was certain was that Death, any of them, having an interest in you, likely wasn’t a good thing. 

Sahn, who had been the only one making noise with some humming, finally clued in and spoke up first. “Oh wait? Was that question for me? Sorry, I didn’t realize. …Um, what was it again? I already forgot.” 

“I uh…” Grian nervously started, unsure now with the shift of tone in the room. “I don’t exactly know who this ‘Warrior’ is. I’ve heard about him a few times, but not enough details. And so I want to know who he is and what exactly is going on.”

“Oh, that first part is easy!” Sahn smiled, cheering up quickly. “He’s officially known as The Warrior of Death! He’s got another name too but I’m not allowed to use it. He’s one of… two? Or wait was it four… I think it was four deaths. But I help him out! And have been since I died.” Despite Grian not liking Sam and not knowing too much about Sahn, he still winced at the mention that Sahn was indeed, and had indeed, died. “I forget exactly why. I think there was something weird. Maybe something about… tents? No… hurts… no it was… somewhere in the middle. Anyway! He wanted me to find you for some reason! I don’t know why because you have Sally, and what should have been enough.”

Grian tensed at the mention of his recently acquired pet chicken, now questioning if there was more to the animal. “And how would she have been ‘enough’?”

“Well my boss really likes chickens. Oh, and other similarly related animals! He can know what just about any of them see. Wait is it any, or all? Maybe both? I don’t remember.”

‘This is probably just because of your current time stuff.’ Astrid signed. She had no clue if that was the case or not, but it was better to come up with an excuse just in case.

“Yeah, she’s probably right.” Flora agreed. “Maybe he’s just wondering why a new death kid just appeared.”

Sahn looked like he wanted to disagree with that, but was stopped as Silski walked through him and picked Grian up. “This isn’t going anywhere. You’re coming with me to an… emergency meeting.”

Grian just kicked at Silski. “First put me the hell down, second, what are you even talking about?”

After a moment, Grian was put back down, though with a huff from Silski. “I’m in a team with a few people. We call ourselves the council. One of the people included is your mom. Other than the actual Deaths, she’ll probably know the most about this. Unlike this ghost.” And Silski attempted to gesture to Sahn, but had no clue where the ghost was and did so in the wrong direction.

“Wait what d'ya mean his mum? I thought he was like, Grifter’s cousin? Though I also think I heard Eepr say he was a clone.” Toob was the one speaking up.

“Uh, well I was supposed to pretend to be some sort of relative, but Flora figured out quickly and so I just didn’t bother?” Grian admitted sheepishly, Flora butting in a moment later.

“Yeah I didn’t know about faking it. But enough has already happened in this world, so one more thing isn’t all that surprising.”

“Well I don’t care.” Silski grumbled. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Sure…” Grian replied hesitantly. He wanted some sort of explanation. There was already enough going on and enough unanswered questions that he wanted some of them to be answered. That being said, the possibility of seeing his mum felt off. Some of it probably came from the fact that this wouldn’t be his actual mother. But it also might be the simple fact that… he didn’t remember her at all. Grian still had a few memories he was clinging onto of his brothers and dad, but his mum was a different story. She was barely ever around due to her ‘job’. That, mixed with Grian having been so young and it having been so long, he honestly didn’t remember what she looked like, how she sounded, what she was like at all. He would know this warped copy of her better than his own mother.

As Silski started to leave, Grian followed, Astrid managing to tell him that she and Flora would keep in contact with their comms. It reassured Grian a bit, which helped, though when he turned back, Silski had gotten pretty far already. 

Grumbling a bit, Grian flew to catch up with the sculk hybrid, nearly face planting into the ground when he landed. “The offer to get carried still stands.” Silski piped up. “Last time I am though, because honestly I’d like to stay away from you and your smell.”

Grian accepted, though instead of being actually carried, he instead perched himself on Silski’s shoulders, which apparently stunk less to him. “Okay I know I tried cleaning myself up when we got back from getting the stuff on my wings checked out, I shouldn’t smell that bad.”

Silski was quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say that also wouldn’t reveal the secret Astrid had told him. “For all we know, whatever time magic sent you here is ender based. Which is weird since that’s almost impossible to find in pretty much any world, but what else would explain it?”

Grian was pretty sure that by any world, Silski meant the worlds of this reality, not the one he and Grifter were from. Which could make sense if whatever was annoying Silski was unique to the other world he had recently come from and why here and there, the sculk hybrid had mentioned the smell not being as bad. Still, he mentioned that Sense apparently smelled, so what did that mean for him? Just another question to ponder, Grian supposed. In fact, he could even ask about that. “So wait, then what about Sense?”

“Ugh, him. I’m not exactly sure why he smells like death and rotting and whatnot, which makes you seem a whole lot better in comparison. But even ignoring that, I can’t say I’m a fan of him. In the short time he’s been here, Sense has been a prick to me. I didn’t think I did anything wrong, and he sure won’t explain if I ask. I have some guesses, but those might not even be right.”

“Some people can just be assholes.” Grian replied, but then thought about it more. In a world where Taurtis was gone, he had found Perfect Sense. They had been together and seemed madly in love with each other and even had kids. And here was someone saying how bad Sense actually was. Or probably was. He didn’t really know either of the two well enough to know who had more of a point. And, if he did end up the same way, like Grifter, would he potentially turn a blind eye for love? Not if it was really bad, right?

“I can hear your brain going at full steam.” Silski spoke and pulled Grian out of his thoughts, which he realized were probably being spurred on by his audience. “Oh good, that worked. I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while.”

And Grian found that they were already approaching the cottages where Flora had taken him to when she dragged him along while visiting her mum. He hadn’t realized he had zoned out that badly, but Silski also seemed to move pretty fast, so that also probably helped with how short it felt.

He shivered a bit, ready to go into the hopefully warm cabins, only for Silski to walk right past them. Grian complained, but was threatened to be thrown in the snow, so he reluctantly kept quiet. Finally, they reached a bit of a clearing, but nothing really seemed to be there. Which was even more frustrating since Silski stopped moving. Grian still waited a moment, but when nothing happened, he started to say that it all seemed to be a waste of time. Unfortunately, before he could continue, Silski yanked Grian off his shoulders and into his arms before essentially throwing Grian into the middle of the clearing. 

Grian yelped at being thrown, before quickly wrapping his wings around him to help brace for impact. He hoped the snow would also help, and it seemed it did because when Grian did land on the ground, it didn’t hurt at all. It was really cold, but didn’t hurt. But, when he went to sit up and yell at Silski, he found it hard as the snow seemed to have swallowed his wings. Enough snow to weigh them down and make them hard to lift. As he tugged to pull one of his wings free, his audience was suddenly pointing out that his wings weren’t the only things the snow was covering. 

The amount of times Grian had seen quicksand be mentioned in stories had made him assume it would be more common that it was in everyday life. Suddenly finding himself being swallowed up by quick snow made him try to think over what had happened in all those stories. Unfortunately , all he could come up with was people grabbing onto nearby vines. He wasn’t really in a vine filled forest. And there weren’t even any branches due to them being in a clearing.

Grian ultimately resolved himself to the fact he had been betrayed. He was probably going to die, though thankfully it wasn’t going to be permanently. Unless, of course, Silski had planned ahead. As the cold started to become so unbearable that it hurt, Grian figured he would just have to see when he died. And then he fell onto some wool.

Silski fell down from the ceiling a few seconds later, though he landed on his feet. “Come on, we still need to get to the meeting room.”

Grian didn’t move from the floor, just staring up at Silski. “I’m not dead, right?”

Silski huffed before yanking Grian to his feet. “No. It’s a secret entrance through the snow. There’s others around that are traps to trip people up, so don’t go telling people how to find this place.”

“I thought you guys just met out in the open?” Grian said, recalling when he had first seen the group.

“Yeah, that’s for the public club stuff.” And Silski led Grian down the halls of what seemed like some sort of old structure. “Sure, that’s fun and all, but really, we tend to focus on stuff like this.”

Silski gestured, before cursing and realizing that they were still on the wrong side of a door, which he then led them through, and showed the place off again, though with a little less grandeur. Still, despite that, the room definitely looked amazing to Grian. The room was still clearly the room of the old structure, but at the same time it had been updated in a way. Banners hung to the walls proudly and torches held in what looked like sconces adorned the walls. In the center of the room was a strange table. There was a large wooden disk on top to make it into a table, but the base seemed to be something else. 

Curiosity getting the best of him, Grian moved to the table and lifted the disk, staring at the dark magic in the center and the sort of scarlet colored hints accenting it, looking like stars covering the sky. Before he could admire anymore, a hand slammed down in the disk, nearly pinching Grian’s fingers. Grian looked up to see who had done that and found a girl glaring daggers at him. He assumed she would be frowning if it weren’t for the bubble gum she was blowing, which made him flinch when it popped. But he didn’t seem to be the only one startled by the noise as a hiss came from his left. 

Grian took a step back at seeing a creeper, not dealing with them all that much so far, but knowing what they could cause. However, after a moment when it didn’t explode, Grian realized that it was actually a hybrid rather than an actual creeper, and also they had a lot of cats with them.

“Oh come on!” Bubblegum girl glared at the creeper. “How are you still flinching at that?”

“Y-you did it t-too soon.” The creeper shuddered out, almost like they were still cold despite how warm the room was compared to the temperature outside, or should it be considered above? “I d-didn’t get a ch-chance to process it.”

“I duh duh duh- that’s what you sound like. You’re still just a little cry baby.” Grian, though the insults weren’t pointed at him, still winced at them since they were coming from an unfamiliar person that could potentially turn to him at any second.

“F-fuck you.” The words sounded more confident than the stutter would imply. “I got in here j-just like everyone else. And I d-didn’t get a f-free pass, like s-some people.” And then their gaze turned to Grian, also being a glare, which did not help Grian’s confidence with being there. And Silski had yet to say a word, so he didn’t expect the sculk hybrid to speak up and tell them to back off. But someone did.

“Leave him alone. Unlike everyone else, as you are comparing him to, it seems like he wasn’t here willingly.” And Grian looked to see another person enter the room, someone both familiar and not. Someone, though he had forgotten the face of, he could still remember that it was different. His mother, or this version of her at least.

“Speaking of.” Silski now spoke up. “I’ve got answers to your questions about that, as well as a bit more. But the simple answer is that Grian is apparently just Grifter from the past.”

“The simple answer?” The alternate version of his mother asked, and Grian wondered if she could tell he wasn’t the real Grifter. It was probably because of his wings. Grifter apparently made his look more like the real one’s, so maybe he could pretend the opposite?

“Well, he wanted me to pretend otherwise to try and keep things simple. Who knows what someone might want out of the possibility of time travel. So he helped with changing my appearance to really throw people off.”

“I see.” Was the answer before his not mum looked over at bubblegum girl. “Ekke, I believe you had wanted clarification on something?”

Elle popped another bubble before sitting up in her chair. “Yeah. We saw him before. I think he saw us too, but didn’t come running over even though you two said he went missing for a couple of years when he was like this, right?”

“W-we were really y-young then.” The creeper spoke up. “He pr-probab-bly wasn’t sure i-if it was us.”

“Okay fine, whatever.” She chewed loudly and leaned back in her seat, the chair teetering on its back legs. “If ya don’t remember their names, they’re Euro and Krys.”

“Ekke!”

“Whaaat? Just make it quick for the kid so Sil can actually start the meeting.”

Silski sighed before moving Grian to sit in Silski’s chair before the sculk hybrid propped his arms up on the backing. “The main reason we’re here is that someone outside of Grian’s immediate family seems to be taking an interest in things, which could lead to some extra insight on Grian appearing, but could also be cause for concern. Grian’s here to supplement any information I haven’t pieced together from the rumor mill as well as be a sort of… well, not lie detector exactly. But you know what I mean.”

“Uh, I don’t.” Grian spoke up, before being silenced as Silski reached a hand down before covering Grian’s face to shush him. That worked all of two seconds before Grian shoved the hand away and then sulked in the chair.

“S-so… your m-mention of n-non imme-“ Euro wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Silski started to answer. Grian thought it was a bit rude for a moment before noticing Euro didn’t seem upset by it, so maybe it was a normal thing.

“Yes I did mean it was still about someone in your extended family. It seems to be Death. The other one of course.”

Grian watched as Krys clapped a hand to her mouth before slowly lowering it at Silski’s added clarification. “Oh. That’s… strange. You’re sure it’s him?”

“Considering Grian’s got a chicken following him around plus someone saying they literally work for the guy, I’m fairly certain.”

“Lovely…” Krys sighed, rubbing her temples before pausing to pick a cat up off of the floor and hand it to Euro in a fashion that seemed like it was a common action. And it seemed helpful since Euro had not reacted well to the confirmation.

“Is he okay?” Grian asked the group in general, concerned about his… pseudo brother? He guessed that was probably the best way to describe Euro, though he obviously wouldn’t say it aloud.

“Right, you wouldn't know about it, would you?” Silski spoke up. “Did Fleur and Astrid at least tell you about how people get into this world?” Grian thought it over, thinking Flora may have made some small comment about it. But apparently needing to take that long to answer was an answer of its own. “Alright, who wants to explain?”

“I will.” Ekke raised a hand. “So before you were admin, we had this asshole named Nightmare. He said the place was open to just about anyone to join, but to make sure the place wasn’t completely flooded, there was a sort of test in the way. He got ahold of a way for people to have to deal with their ‘biggest fear’ or whatever. If you could get past it, it meant you were strong enough or some bs. Plus, if you showed up together with someone, then you had to go through theirs as well. And if you failed the test by succumbing to it or dying, you would fail. Depending on how, it could just be you booted, or could be everyone. Turns out part of the reason he was so insistent was because this place is screwed the hell up because of the guy interested in you, and trying to get out is only easier than getting in because of that test.”

Grian’s heart dropped at the last bit of information. Sure, most of it didn’t sound great, but he kind of wanted to leave to get back home eventually, and time travel wasn’t really the easiest thing in the first place. Plus, if the person interested in him had messed things up that badly… well, who knew what that meant for him. “Well… uh, what does that mean for Euro?”

“A few things really.” Krys was the one to speak up before showing off some scars on her neck that made Grian flinch. He had seen similar ones on Flora, but they were mostly covered with fur. Without that, they looked a lot worse. “As you know, your father is one side of death. Nightmare knew that and… didn’t want him involved. So he made sure to find ways to cut contact between him and us. Some of that included him involving your uncle once he did learn about what had happened to us.”

“Oh… so dad’s…?” Grian trailed off. It wasn’t his dad, not really, and he hated that he needed to keep reminding himself that. But again, he still wanted to see his family again, no matter what version of them it was.

“Wile sees him most often, your father makes it a bit easier to leave. Not by too much, but enough.”

Grian nodded before thinking of another question. “Uh, do you guys need to go through that whole test every time? Or did I guess, since it’s not around anymore from what Grifter told me.”

“Th-thankfully n-no.” Euro hissed out. “If I h-had to see th-those two every time, th-the potato t-torcher w-wouldn’t be en-nough.”

“Potato torcher?” Grian asked, eyebrows raising in a mixture of shock and concern. “Is that-?”

“A sentient potato really screwed Euro over.” Ekke spoke up. “One day it was ‘oh you are suck a close friend! Come to my wedding because we are such good friends’ to ‘why are you so upset I tried threatening a child with doxxing’ all the way to ‘here’s every time I and some others you thought were friends actually hate you for that we decided to tell you all at once instead of pointing it out in the moment for you to work on, why the hell didn’t you ever improve or change?’ ignoring the fact that they changed the context of some of those things. It, pardon the language, really fucked him over for ages. He tried joining this place not long later and I’m surprised he made it through alive. It was like a reverse beacon stealing nightmare. Not the person of course.”

“That… is a lot to unpack.” Grian spoke up, glancing at the creeper hybrid. “Are you sure he’s okay with you sharing all that?”

“Pretty much.” Ekke shrugged. “He’s terrified of sharing it directly, so doing it through other means works better. I’m totally free if you ever want to do the same. As long as it’s not also something that causes you disdain for potatoes and certain conifer trees because I don’t think I could handle two of that.”

“It’s uh… mainly rabbit based.” Grian admitted quickly, hoping it would resolve the topic. Which it seemed to with Ekke nodding before Silski coughed to bring attention back to him and then get them back on topic.

“Anyway, again, Warrior named death is involved again. I already mentioned he has someone around that’s working for him. That someone said they were here for Grian specifically, but also for someone going by the same of Spore.”

“Oh n-no…”

“I can’t be certain that it’s anything related to sculk though.” Silski paused to give Grian some clarification. “The Dark, aka what’s through the portal that is this table, is fungal like, and fungi have spores.” And Silski lifted the board on top of the table enough to show off the portal briefly to Grian. “The worker specifically mentioned that Spore was asked to interact with Perfect Sense and help with his redstone poisoning.”

“Which could be from redstone immunity which fits if it is sculk based.” Krys agreed. “Or might not if they’re interacting with his kind.”

“His kind?” Grian asked, wondering if it had something to do with Silski’s ‘ender’ mentions.

“There is a very long story about that.” Krys answered. “But a simple thing is that he’s not really from around here.”

“Ah.” Grian nodded, realizing that was probably more connected to him and Grifter not being from around there either.

“Okay next bit.” Ekke spoke up, getting a frustrated sigh out of Krys.

“We still need to be careful about the ‘entrance exams’ apparently.” Silski spoke, using air quotes around entrance exams. “Astrid came back mentioning a pretty big group was stuck in a reenabled test. There’s a chance it’s still connected to Warrior because of how big the group supposedly is. The person who showed up already is a ghost, so they likely got a free pass.”

“How m-many is a large gr-roup?” Euro asked, getting an answer of ten people, which made him hiss and hide by snuggling into cat fur.

“They hopefully won’t come through then.” Krys spoke, though she still looked concerned. “Did Astrid mention any progress?”

“Not directly, no.” Silski started, then quickly added before anyone could reply, “She did mention a ‘king’ is part of the group, so if they do make it through…”

“I understand. If something happens to you, we won’t fault you for it.”

Silski shrugged, and Grian looked for some sort of answer, though he wasn’t given one. “I still might as well give the rest of the information I’ve put together. It’ll go to a whole lot more use if it’s not stuck with me.”

“Okay spit it out half n half.” Ekke got glares from everyone with working eyes, but didn’t seem to mind, just waiting for Silski to continue.

“This next part is probably going to get me in trouble, but I don’t trust Grifter.”

“What?” Grian turned in his seat to look at Silski. “Uh, but he’s me?” He then wondered if Silski had realized that they weren’t the real Grifter. “Why say it in front of me if-”

“Because you should get a heads up.” Silski replied, cutting Grian off, then further explained when Krys asked him to. “Look, he’s the new admin and everything, and I swear my distaste isn’t just because of the company he keeps, though to me it’s a very good reason.”

“That’s my future husband you’re referring to.” Grian complained before Silski whacked him.

“Look, he’s your future version. I’m sure you think that makes him immediately trustworthy, but I don’t think that’s the case. You want to go to your home and change the past? Well what if he’s in the version of the timeline where he tried that and it’s a lost cause? You were mumbling about someone completely different when you came back from some ‘training’ with Grifter, and based on context clues, I think it’s someone you want to change the past for. Maybe Grifter thinks it’s fine to screw them over to keep things how they are, but you might not.”

“Who’s to say it wouldn’t be purposely screwing them over that I want to cause?” Grian asked, getting an answer from Euro.

“W-well, if you wa-ant to do that, then y-you would just want to d-do it f-for you, but Sils-ski said you w-want it f-for the other p-person, which i-isn’t a dist-tinction made lightly.”

“Okay, fine. So what if that is what he’s doing? Maybe he’s right.” Grian spoke back, though if it were the case, he wouldn’t be happy with it.

“That’s just one possibility. There could be other things that are going on. Like the fact that he’s training you at all is worrying.”

“How so?”

“What exactly is he training you for?” Krys asked, and Grian quickly gave the answer, which seemed to concern her. “Oh, yes that is worrying. Listeners are particular about things, Watchers just as much.”

“Watchers?” Grian asked. It wasn’t something Grifter had mentioned, at least not that he could really recall.

“They’re counterparts to Listeners. It’s not something I’m an expert on, not in the slightest, but the two are made to be balances to one another in more than one way, to the point that just one Listener can affect things on the other side greatly. If you’re learning early, it could cause some issues.”

“Well, Grifter’s been constantly going to wherever other Listeners are and telling them about what’s going on.” Grian explained from what he had been told. “If they haven’t made a big stink about it, then it must be fine, right?”

“G-grian, you k-keep saying th-things that you’ve b-been told.” Euro spoke up. “B-but have you g-gotten any p-proof? Saying th-things c-can be r-really easy comp-pared to actual p-proof.”

Grian wondered for a moment if maybe Euro had a point before he remembered that Grifter had given him some proof. “Yes, I have.” He looked over at Krys, knowing she would be able to verify what he was saying on some level. “The other person who’s been staying with you, Flora’s mom Sadie, she’s seen the physical proof I’ve been given about everything.”

Krys paused before nodding. Sadie had mentioned something to her of that sort. That confirmation seemed to help Euro and Ekke, but Silski was another deal. He knew a bit more than he could say, for fear of completely screwing things over. Sure, proof could be proof, but it still wasn’t something first hand. Even something like what Grian was mentioning needed to be verified. And if it was anything like what he assumed from what little info he’d gathered about what the so called proof was, it seemed like something that could be manipulated, giving half truths and leaving out certain parts to cast Grifter in a better light than reality.

“Now, I would like to circle back to something you mentioned before.” Krys spoke up, directing her statement to Silski. “This ghost you mentioned could have easily gotten through to this world, but it sounded like this Spore person is also around if the ghost has already contacted them. That is what you meant, yes?”

“Right.” Silski grumbled. “My guess is they either managed to be separate from the big group, or they got in through alternate methods.”

“Like what?” Ekke asked, then Silski patted Grian’s head. “Him?”

“Me?” Grian asked, looking up at Silski for some sort of explanation.

“Just because it could be they’re connected to sculk doesn’t mean they definitely are. You guys crashed at our house after you met with Cerus, which happened because you owed Wassa. And you owed Wassa because after Grifter took you off-world to train, you came back with some sort of substance on your wings that appeared after you were in a mushroom valley or something.”

“Uh… cave but the rest is pretty accurate.” Grian mentioned. “How much are they talking about me behind my back?”

“Just stuff they want another opinion on.” Silski tried reassuring Grian. “Plus, they’re not entirely convinced Grifter’s telling the full truth either. Fleur’s wondering things with the ghost around and Astrid’s still wary of him after her whole curse incident.”

“Right, that.” Grian reluctantly agreed. He still didn’t think that was the case, that Grifter was lying. He had been handed proof, shouldn’t that be enough? “Well, uh, if we’re worried about the Spore person, since we know they’re connected to the death you’re talking about, if they were somehow brought over by me, someone should have noticed.”

“You mean like noticing you had gunk stuck all over your wings?”

“Not all over them!” Grian argued, then hesitated before adding on. “Just… noticeable enough that it bothered me. But that doesn’t take much!”

“Then show your wings off to the others.” 

Grian froze at the suggestion. Not because showing the mycelium off could be bad, but more the idea of him showing his wings off to two people who were supposed to be his family. They would know he wasn’t supposed to have these bright colorful wings, so the best explanation would be that they were disguised that way. But you couldn’t really color them differently since the shape was different too. So it would have to be some sort of illusion, but something like that should also hide the mycelium. And since they knew he was supposed to be Grifter’s past version, he couldn’t use some other excuse. He didn’t know how to make an actual illusion himself to make his wings look like how they were ‘supposed to’ while also showing off the mycelium they hadn’t quite gotten rid of. Especially since he couldn’t really look at his wings since they were on his back.

“You hesitating isn’t a great sign.” Ekke spoke up, then made Grian flinch as she blew and popped a bubblegum bubble.

“I… I’m not a fan of anyone looking at them. I barely tolerated getting them inspected before, and that was only because Flora and Astrid were there.” Grian fumbled before giving his excuse. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he had gotten used to his wings being messed with back home… mainly by Sam. If the circumstances were a little different, he probably would let the group look, but for now, he couldn’t. “I know technically you’re part of my family, well I mean you are.” Grian then had to quickly cover almost revealing things. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you guys in years. If it weren’t for showing up here in the future, it sounds like I still wouldn’t have seen you for a few more years. We might be related, but you’re still pretty much strangers to me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Krys agreed. “However, if you could potentially come back with one of those two at a later time, this is pretty important.”

“We’ll see.” Grian answered, then looked at the others. “So, is that about it?”

“I th-think so.” Euro said, then looking to Ekke, who nodded.

“Alright then, let’s go.” Silski spoke up, then started to stand before Krys held up a hand, making everyone pause.

“There is one more thing I think we should discuss.”

“And what’s that?”

Krys sighed before speaking again. “We’re under the assumption that The Warrior is after Grian due to his time displacement, but I’m not completely sure. Technically, it could be that, but it may not be just from curiosity.”

“What do you mean?” Ekke spoke up, now sitting in her chair properly and looking at Krys. Looking over to Euro, Grian saw he looked just as concerned.

“My husband is not the biggest fan of Grian, or rather, Grifter. It takes a bit of explanation, but the long and short of it is that despite being death, they can be killed, and Grifter could potentially do that.”

“He could what?” Silski asked, surprised and nearly shouting. Grian was just as surprised. Was she saying that he would want to- no, it was just speculation, right?

“How do you know that?” Grian asked, voice wavering, before getting his fears confirmed that Grifter had tried to kill Deathza. The only thing reassuring Grian at that point was the following information that it occurred before Grifter was put in prison, meaning before he was replaced with the current Grifter.

“Okay, let me get the full explanation out of the way, it will make things a whole lot simpler.” Krys spoke, then pulled out a sword. Grian worried about why the weapon was drawn before the blade was used to carve into the table. “Our universe is really two universes. Once upon a time, they were just one, but that’s not the case now.” And she caved a line down the middle of the square she had originally carved. “Most people think of them as mirrors to one another, but that’s not exactly the case. Think of it as more of a set of scales. If you put weight on one side, a matching weight needs to be placed on the other side. It doesn’t need to be immediate, but the longer one side weighs more, the more likely it could eventually crash against the ground and potentially break the scale itself.”

Grian looked at the scale that was carved onto the table, one side on each side of the middle dividing line. While the scale example worked, the mention of most people thinking of the two as mirrors made Grian also take that into account. If it was so common, then there had to be some things that fit better with that explanation. Like, if he were here, could the actual past version of Grifter be experiencing the same thing? Or if the real Grifter were also on this side, what did that mean for the side Grian was from. “Uh, do the sides have names at all?”

“A few.” Krys agreed. “Aey and Enne, Wels and Hels, Kall(Kæll) and Glöd, there’s a good amount. We’re in Aey and the other is Enne. People are usually from one or the other, but the gods are not, and there are rumors that there are some people who could still be from the before. I would doubt that’s the case since again, the scales. They can be tipped for a while, but certainly not that long.”

Grian nodded, but then looked up from the diagram to ask a question. “So, what does that have to do with now?”

“I’m getting there.” Krys assured, then dragged her sword over the place where the scale connected. “Aey and Enne can still interact with one another. Mentioned before were the Listeners and Watchers. While they are mainly considered part of Aey and Enne respectively, they interact with both sides, with at least one of each assigned to each world. Along with that, their kind are not restricted to which side they come from. Another example of interaction is for the deaths. Two deaths for each side. They represent the two sides to death itself for their respective half of the universe.”

Krys drew a pair of circles on both sides of the split, putting an extra dot in one of the circles on what Grian assumed was the Aey side. “Despite them being the embodiment of death in its various forms, they aren’t gods. I wouldn’t say demigods either, but even lesser gods isn’t right. And then powerful practically immortals is a mouthful.” Krys sighed. “As long as the deaths are deaths, they are able to go between worlds at will, ones from both Aey and Enne. For the most part, they will stick to the side they belong to, but for certain cases they will interact with the other. The biggest reason for that is that there’s one rule placed on them by the gods. They cannot be the ones handling the souls of their family.”

While it made sense, Grian was still surprised by it. Whenever he was dealing with the possibility of dying back home, he always recalled that his mother was death. He didn’t know the full ins and outs of it, which was obvious now, but he had hoped that if he did die, stuck as a ghost or not, he would still potentially get to see her again. “So… if I end up dying…”

“Your father wouldn’t be involved, even if it would fall on his portion of death.” She paused when Grian opened his mouth. “This explanation is already long enough, I’m not explaining those sides.” And Grian’s mouth snapped shut. “Your uncle also wouldn’t be involved due to that as he is still part of your family. It affects mostly direct bonds, children, marriage, adoption too for Flora’s case. But because of all that, neither death of this world could deal with any of us, so that would fall upon the deaths of Enne. Or, it could fall upon the duty of a new death.”

“Which would happen if one of them were killed?” Grian asked, pretty sure he was following along.

“If they were killed or retired or whatnot. Their title would pass on. If they willingly leave the position, then it would be given to who they also willingly pass it to. But if they are killed, it passes to the one who defeated them.”

And suddenly a lot of things made sense. “So, you’re saying that my uncle, this ‘Warrior’, might be interested in me because Grifter could kill him. And… and he might want to kill me first? To erase Grifter so he couldn’t even try?”

“Smart kid.” Ekke spoke up, but then looked to Krys to confirm if that was what she was trying to imply, earning a nod.

“Before, I would have said that it couldn’t be the case, but there’s also the fact that Silski has implied your… ‘scent’ could be from something connected to Enne. But that doesn’t entirely matter right now. What does matter is why the Warrior is really interested in you.”

“Then I guess we’ll need to start grilling the ghost he had show up. You guys owe me and Toob for kidnapping Jane. And making him stay at our place. And making me deal with the ender fucker more. Just, you guys are in charge of interrogation.”

“Okay fine, that’s fair.” Grian agreed. “So, now are we done?”

“Yes, now we are done.” Krys agreed, then stood from her seat and flipped the table board over, revealing other carvings. “Oh, uh. I guess we need another one of these.”

“Not it.” Silski spoke up, then picked Grian up, ignoring as he squawked a bit. “I need to get him out of here and then back to my place. Among other things. So bye.” 

By the time they were back out in the snow, Grian didn’t really notice the cold all too much, instead focusing his thoughts on everything that was talked about. Okay well he did eventually focus on the cold because it felt like it was freezing his wings off. The feeling did subside enough for him to start thinking again, making him think he just got used to it. And that was a fair assumption, seeing as how he was right before with the fact that he couldn’t see his wings well, including how the mycelium stuck in them receded in time with his feeling of the cold.

.

.

.

Jrum, along with a number of the Hermits, were at spawn. He held a weapon in his off hand, but his main hand was sparking slightly. Not because he was damaged or anything, no. Vee, along with some help from Hoodie, had been teaching Jrum fairly well on how to use magic. And by fairly well, he meant he had learned the basics well enough to not explode and said it was good enough for him. 

While Jrum trusted the two enough to teach him, that still wasn’t by much, but the only Hermits who could have taught him were busy or unavailable, and the other magic users weren’t in a compatible style or whatever Joe had said about it. 

Speaking of Joe, he and the other opped Hermits had finally found the issue with the whitelist. Whether it was Grifter’s doing or someone else’s, people who were supposed to be ignored by the whitelist, specifically Watchers and Listeners, were now being checked. And since they weren’t officially on the list, they couldn’t get through. That being said, the reason Vee had gotten in was because of an exception Xisuma had added for those under a certain listed age. He had added it after a small fiasco that had happened when the bots were first given their bodies. There was also supposed to be more to the rule, but it was assumed that the fact Vee was from Hels was messing with it.

Either way, it led back to why everyone was at spawn. After adding the main people who were being kept out by the issue, Vee had been allowed to add her father onto the list. Though the Hermits were reluctant since he had associated with Grifter before, he hadn’t seemed to know the actual truth. Still, he probably knew the most out of everyone involved that would be willing to talk to them. And if he did cause issues, then Pix or Zloy could be called in.

When someone finally appeared, the Hermits all prepared just in case there were problems right off the bat. Fortunately that didn’t seem to be the case, and the Listener just looked over the Hermits before Cub gestured that they could relax a bit. As soon as he did, Vee ran out from the crowd, no longer being held back by Stress. 

The Listener merely let Vee tackle him with a hug before attaching herself to one of his arms. One of his six arms. The arm lifted until Vee was in front of his face, which had milky white eyes that probably couldn’t see well if at all. “Papa! You’re here!”

“I am.”

“And you’re like this! Jungle gym time!”

The Listener laughed before bringing another arm up, which she also hugged onto. As she continued to hang from his arms, the Listener looked at the Hermits to answer the main question he assumed they had. “I don’t feel comfortable showing off my regular look to you guys. This is how I look when all… Listener-ified. I think you have seen how Grian looks when he’s the same.”

“You mean when he looks more like a giant harpy?” Scar spoke up, getting another laugh out of the Listener.

“Yes, like that. I managed to get these things.” And he moved his extra sets of arms that Vee wasn’t clinging to.

“Jungle gym Papa!”

“Yes, it could also be called that.” And then he pulled Vee away and put her back on the ground. “But it’s probably better if you go play somewhere else.”

“Aww, but you just got here!”

The Listener sort of seemed to glance up at the Hermits before speaking to Vee again in a stage whisper. “Well I think these guys want to make me do boring adult things with me. Probably meetings and paperwork and presentations.”

“Nooo that’s dumb!”

“Well you can run off so you won’t have to suffer through it with me.”

Vee nodded before running over to Jrum to play with him again. Jrum reluctantly followed, but did his best to go slowly to hear as much of what he could.

“Alright, so are we going to be talking here, or do you guys have a special meeting room?”

“We have one of those if you don’t mind the travel to get there.” Cub was the one who spoke up, and then Jrum caught the Listener nodding.

“It’s no problem Mx…?”

“Huh? Oh don’t bother with that, just call me Cub.”

“You never know, better safe than sorry.” And then Jrum saw him shrug, which looked weird with extra arms. “You can call me Joeyish.”

And then Jrum was finally pulled out of hearing range, and also dealing with Vee panicking from seeing a fish.

[zylophie]

Can I please request a fluff alphabet with Ichika? (C, G, J, K, X) Thank u and have a good day!

FLUFF ALPHABET

↳ C, G, J, K & X

♬ x/modmafuyu is typing...

↻ Hello Anon~! Thanks for visiting our garden! Hope this flower is to your liking!

𝅘𝅥𝅮 If you would like to grow a fic, click here and read the writing rules for each writer 𝅘𝅥𝅮

■ Contents: Fluff

► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Ichika Hoshino

꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

C onfession - Who confessed first? How was the confession like?

Ichika most likely confessed first between the two of you. Although Ichika was a little nervous at the thought of confessing to you.

What if you didn't like her back? What if she screwed up the confession? Will she still be able to stay as friends?!

Ding dong!

'Ah it is time..' As Ichika packed her stuff and made her way to the rooftop.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Ichika! You're finally here. What is it that you want to talk about?"

"I-I like you [name]!"

"E-eh?"

Never bring up how she confessed to you. The poor girl has and always suffer from the embarrassment that day as she blurted out her feelings immediately.

꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

G ift - What's their favourite gift from you?

Ichika usually isn't used to receiving much gifts unless it was on valentines. However that changed when you and her started dating!

The moment you found out she loves Miku songs, you wouldn't stop giving her every Miku CDs you found in shops and purchase them for her.

However her favourite gift from you is a homemade miku keychain. She finds it very heartwarming as you took the time to make it for her!

"Ichi~ look what I got for you!"

"Hm? What is it-"

She saw a familiar teal pigtail girl dangling from your hand.

"I-is that a miku keychain?!"

"Yep! Made by yours truly~"

Safe to say, she definitely hanged the keychain on her guitar case. She is just so happy you took the time to make her something she really likes!

꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

J ealous - What makes them jealous? How easy is it to make them and how would they react?

Ichika doesn't get jealous easily, though when someone keeps taking you away from her every time, she would start to feel a little annoyed.

"Hey [name]! I forgot that Saki wanted to hang out with us. Sorry about that"

----------------------------------------------------------

"Saki wanted to hang out with us today? I thought she went shopping with her family?"

"Sorry about that [name], I may have gotten a little bit jealous seeing them trying to take you away from our conversations every time."

꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

K isses - How they feel like and how often?

Although it isn't often, kisses with Ichika are always so gentle and soft! Even though you've been together for quite a while, Ichika is still a little shy in the relationship.

"Ichi, thanks for helping me with my homework."

"It's no problem [name]"

Ichika quickly gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

"I-Ichi?!"

It's always full of surprises whenever she kisses you as it doesn't happen regularly. Maybe you should bother Ichika more if she would give you kisses like that after helping you..

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X oxo - Are their messages with you different from how they text others?

Ichika's messages with you aren't that different from how she texts other people. More like she will be embarrassed trying to be lovely dovey.

Though she does ocassionally try to call you pet names, but regrets and corrects it to try to not seem 'weird'.

Ichika: Hey love, are you free later?

Ichika: [name]*

[Name]: Call me love again, then we'll talk.

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[hirukochan]

i’m sad that your tears finally soon to come to completion, but i’m glad that i was part of the waiting journey of this amazing fic to read our 2 protagonists finally get their happy ending!

buuuuut excited from your upcoming fic astrea x voldemort snippets, they got me salivating would you count this as reverse harem? 🫣 i’d love to read the dynamic differences of each voldemort from various of time frames, and to read them beefing over astrea or his horcruxes insulting voldemort like “you can do better that that” for losing the first war(i can see a little shit teenager tom riddle saying it), it makes sense that his worthy competitors are his own self/creation. will voldemort lose his shit over that? cause i love me some unhinged snake face voldemort😏

will you reveal in the tags a as voldemort wins au? and the type of ending? or are you going to keep the reader on their toes, letting the characters move on their own in your mind?

though i got a feeling this will be a merry-bad ending (fucked up tragedy from outsiders’ pov but the main characters themselves are happy)

Thank you so much! And what a journey it was! There were so many sub-plot I didn't see coming but that worked so well within the story I couldn't just *not* write them.

For the upcoming fic, yeah, I'd say it's reverse harem even it's technically the same person but...three times. There is sweet, innocent Astrea, sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle and Voldemort and then some time later Mr Gaunt joins into the fun as well. It'll be a dark fic. Voldemort isn't nice and his past selfs certainly weren't either.

Voldemort is pretty much the same as I write him always, very manipulative, charming and he can be 'nice' if he wants to.

Tom Riddle is certainly influenced by the years he has spend with Astrea already, I think consuming someone's soul leaves its traces lol. He is trapped in that moment right after killing Myrtle with the Basilik and creating his first Horcrux. So he's ofc also emotionally stuck at sixteen.

Mr Gaunt, the locket, was created some time before Voldemort's downfall, I put it somewhere between 1965 and 1970 personally. He is older, has a more 'refined' taste in cruelty and was at the height of his power before his 'death'. He still has his human features but he isn't quite human anymore. Kinda uncanny valley style. Astrea can feel that something is off and it scares her.

All Voldemorts find her fear entertaining but all Voldemorts have their own aspirations and all Voldemorts are jealous and wildly possessive - even towards each other. I am very much looking forward to writing them interact and exploring different facets of the same character. Voldemort is such an interesting character!

They are each unhinged in their own way! And Tom, because he has already spend so much time by Astrea's side, already considers her 'his' so that'll result in some delicious conflict.

I am not sure yet if the other Horcruxes make an appearance too. Nagini is there but her Horcrux is different, it doesn't seem to really manipulate the world around her like the diary does - same goes for Harry. I like the idea of the diadem, cup and ring joining but idk if I could make more than three believable and yet different versions of Voldemort. Also the whole name thing would get confusing. Thomas, Riddle and Marvolo perhaps but eh.

The fic is both canon-divergent and a Voldemort-wins-au. The diary never reaches Hogwarts so the entire second year wouldn't happen like it does in the novels and the adults act...more intelligent lol xD Astrea herself also influences several events.

I have an idea how the fic will end but that might still change, I can see this fic getting potentially quite long 😅 So I will for now not say much about that other than that I personally don't like bad endings full of misery and death and hopelesness.