#so that I can 1) survive 2) hopefully have some comforts and 3) maybe MAYBE even GROW

[brown-little-robin]

budgeting has me staring into space going ah...... so this is how it is

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 7

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, agoraphobia, depression, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

You woke up alone and felt anything but. The distant buzz of people outside, on the streets, bustling about the hallways of the inn, felt suffocating. It all seemed so loud now, so deafening. 

Lucien appeared in front of you, giving you a quiet “Good morning,” and suddenly, it wasn’t loud at all, his voice cutting through the hum that had seemed deafening moments before. 

“How’re you doing?” he asked as you blinked up at him from your seat on the bed. 

Was his voice quieter than usual? Or maybe that was just how people sounded with the constant buzz of a city in the background. 

“I don’t have any stuff,” you said. It was a trivial complaint, you knew that, but you wanted something to hold onto. Anything that was yours, that wasn’t so foreign. 

He laughed and it felt cruel. You knew it shouldn't, that he was trying to help, but it felt cruel that he was allowed to do that right now, while you felt like you’d been broken into pieces. “We’ll get you new stuff, don’t worry about that.”

Like it was that simple. Like you could just get new stuff and move on. 

It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. He was the reason you were still here. But some part of you; some unsnuffable, horrible little instinct; wanted to blame him. Without him, you would still be home. Without him, nothing would have changed. 

“I just…” you began, with no idea how to articulate any of this to him. 

And then, with the most distressed expression you’d ever seen from him, he interrupted you and said, “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

And that was it. He faded away and you were alone again. 

You hated the deafening roar of the city he left you with. 

At least when he was here, you could pretend things would be okay. 

You didn’t have anything left. Anything but him. At least when he was in front of you, you had something to cling to. 

Hours passed before he reappeared in front of you. When he did, you didn’t manage to get a word out before a string of curse words escaped him and he faded out of existence again. 

You barely even moved as you waited for him. What would you do anyway? You had nothing to do but wait, so that’s what you did, patiently and quietly, on the bed he’d found for you. 

It was a shorter wait this time, under an hour if you had to guess. 

“Where do you keep going?” you asked as he solidified in the space in front of you. It was slower without you summoning him, like he had to put real effort into coming to you. 

A pained expression flashed across his face, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “I’m being summoned.”

“So often? You’re a popular demon,” you said it with the cadence of a joke, but neither of you found it particularly funny. 

“Summonings go through phases,” he said with a sigh. “Names get discovered or obtain reputations. I was too nice for a while, people got comfortable, so I get called upon a lot these days. I’m rectifying my mistake. Hopefully, my name will start to come with a bad taste in people’s mouths in a few decades.”

“Oh. Good luck with that, I guess.”

“Thank you. It’s been going pretty well. Only one major lapse in my judgment,” he said with a pointed look in your direction. 

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “I promise to tell everyone you were real mean to me. Very scary, the scariest demon you could imagine.”

A huff of laughter escaped him. “Good. My reputation may survive this little affair yet. Now, what have you been up to?”

Your eyes flicked around as you searched for an answer that wouldn’t sound horribly tragic. 

He didn’t wait for you to find one before butting in at your obvious distress. “Come on, you don’t need to wait around for me. You haven’t had the chance to do anything in years, go talk to someone or something.”

You shrugged. “I’m fine where I am.”

He looked you up and down, evaluating you as you shrunk away from him. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. I’m just fine in here.”

His eyes narrowed and you couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe you. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to understand. Surely anyone would be hesitant to go back out into the world after being stowed safely away for so long. 

“Something happened,” he said, no longer a question and entirely incorrect.

“It really didn’t. Actually, as long as we’re talking about it, I was thinking. I probably shouldn’t be here at all. I mean, I’m not doing much here. I could always stay in hell with you. It would be easier that way.”

“No,” he snapped, and you flinched back at his harsh tone. “No,” he said again, softer this time, a quiet correction. “I will not let you just lock yourself away again. I will not be your new Eden.”

“I wasn’t asking you to be,” you lied, unconvincing even to yourself.

“You’ll be fine. Just go, talk to someone, get some fresh air. It’ll get easier.”

He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, just how impossible it was. 

“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about me.”

He gave you an unmistakably worried look as he said, “Alright, I won’t. I just think that… shit.”

“Is it happening again?”

“Just go do something. I’ll be back when I can.”

As you laid down in bed, with no intention to go out and doing anything, you wondered just how often he got summoned. You’d never really considered it before. You knew it happened of course, but you’d never put real thought into it past how frustrating of an experience it must be for him. 

What would happen if two people tried to summon him at once? Would it hurt? Rip him in two? You doubted that any of the witches summoning him had considered it either. 

And what other things was he being forced to do out there? Surely Eden wasn’t the worst witch he’d ever encountered. What other horrible things weighed on him every day, that he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for?  

As time ticked on, another thought wormed its way into your head. Maybe he wasn’t being summoned at all. He’d never had to leave this often before he’d helped you make your daring escape and now he could barely stay with you for more than a few minutes. 

It made sense. He’d done what he wanted to do. He’d freed you from the trap he was forced to lay. His part in this should be over, his guilt assuaged, if it weren’t for the way you clung to him like a lifeline. 

The thoughts swam around your head until he appeared once more, looking irritated, eyes distant and cold. 

The spark of insecurity in you couldn’t be snuffed out any longer, not even in the face of his bad mood. 

“Are you actually being summoned?” you blurted out. “Because if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.” You knew it wasn’t true, that you needed him, but still couldn’t stomach the idea of him forcing himself to be here. “I thought we were friends but maybe that was naive. Is it just guilt? Is that what all of this was?”

He sighed, his hands rising to rub at his temples. “It's not... I don't know. Maybe at the beginning. I wanted you to be bad. I needed you to be. And you weren’t and it was the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quiet and broken and completely genuine. 

“You really are, aren’t you? Sorry for what? Sorry for not being awful?”

“Well, not…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You just knew that you were sorry. “I just meant, sorry for making things worse for you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t make anything worse, not in the long run. I like you. I’m glad you got out of there. It’s just that right at the start I needed you to be a bad person so I didn't feel so fucking guilty. I hate doing this, you know. Being so cruel. Especially to people like you. But if I don’t things get so much worse.”

“You’re not cruel,” you said, knowing it was true and yet somehow, deep down, knowing it was the last thing he wanted to hear. 

“I didn’t used to be. That’s the rule. My new rule. No more being nice to the inexperienced ones. Witches like yours don’t give you opportunities to lash out so if you want to establish a reputation, you have to be cruel when you can be. Every single time they give you the chance. When the little witches summoning their first monster give you an opening, you strike. That way the next one thinks twice when they see your name in some summoning book.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Feels awful too. But nothing feels worse than being forced to do even crueler things so you do what you can. Lesser of two evils.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said, knowing exactly what crueler things were flashing through his distant eyes. 

“Maybe not. Still wouldn’t have happened without me. You weren’t the first, you know. You were the first victim she kept, sure, but not the first one who fell prey to that damn forest. You’ve probably seen what’s left of some of them, some bones and remains of them in various forms. She got plenty of use out of them, I’ll give her that much”

Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke and your mind pulled back to the various bones and bits of gore in jars that you’d tended to and organized for her over the years. You’d never thought about them before, not really. Even trying to remember them, it was like a haze began to form in your mind, a buzzing pain starting to settle in over the distant images. 

You started to fall to the side before the feeling of a warm hand on your arm brought you out of your head. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling back far too soon. “I’m sure she’s tainted most of your memories of anything she didn’t want you to see. It’s probably best to not try and look back.”

Now you had one more thing to mourn, even the memories of your home being ripped away from you. How cruel that you weren’t even allowed to keep those in this strange new place. 

“Right. I’ll do my best.”

He nodded. “I know you will. You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing really well.”

It was a kind lie. You appreciated him for trying to tell it.  

And then you were alone again. 

You did try leaving this place. You swore you did, despite knowing in the back of your head that you couldn’t do it. 

You peeked out the window on the tips of your toes down at unfamiliar faces on the street and stood at the door, pretending you knew how to steel yourself for the task ahead.

At the very least it was something to do with yourself when Lucien was away, gone to a summoning or back to hell or just living his life, doing things he refused to speak about with you, always keeping you at arms length. 

But that was unfair. He was there when he could be during the day, when some other witch didn’t whisk him away against his will to do whatever they pleased. 

He never spoke to you about it, about what they asked him to do. Every time you tried he got very quiet and then began to push back, asking you when you’d go outside. 

Nothing quieted you faster than that. 

At night he was always gone. 

At night you were small again. 

You hated sleeping, avoided it whenever you could. You were terrified of the dreams that might come. You’d honestly welcome a nightmare at this point. Your biggest fear was you would dream of home. Your biggest fear was waking up again after. 

Instead, you just stared at the wall every night, waiting for it to be morning so you could wait for Lucien again. 

A thud pulled you from your trance and your head jerked up towards the window just in time to see a bird falling to the ground below after having slammed into the glass it’s little mind couldn't comprehend. 

You were moving before you even had time to think. It was for the best, you weren’t sure you could’ve managed it if you’d had to think it through, to force yourself to get up and go check on the poor creature. 

You held your breath as you walked out the door of your room, freezing for a moment. You weren’t sure what you expected to happen. 

A woman walked by you, turning to the side and slipping by where you were blocking the hallway with a quiet, “Excuse me, love.”

There was a pressure building in your head, behind your eyes, closing your throat. This foreign air felt toxic, a bile rising inside of you. 

A gentle hand settled on your back and you practically jumped out of your skin to get away from it. 

You bolted at the contact, frightened, flighty. Darted not back inside but through the halls until you found a way outside, running around the perimeter of the building until you found it. 

It was a small, unassuming brown bird, crumpled on the ground, an injured wing tucked under itself. 

You picked it up as gently as you could, cradling it in the palms of your hands. 

Every instinct you had wanted you to run back and hide. Instead, you walked slowly, carefully, trying not to jostle the poor creature too much. 

The woman was no longer in the hall, having left at some point after you’d fled from her. Some part of you felt bad, hoped you hadn’t hurt her feelings or left her worried. 

Most of your attention was on the bird. 

You had no idea how to help it, would have to ask Lucien tomorrow. You were terrified to touch the bent wing, to make it worse than it already was. Even attempting to set it would hurt the poor creature and you couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of inflicting any more pain. 

You did what you could, forming a little bed to rest it in for the night, a little nest out of towels and pillows. 

It was almost funny in a way. A makeshift nest inside of your makeshift nest. You were no better off than this frightened, wounded little creature. 

At least maybe, someday, it could get out of here. 

[curio-queries]

Hi CQ, Thank you for your ask! I would also like to keep this conversation going as it tickles my brain in the most delightful way.

My question is kind of circling back to your comment about the use of Go-Pro's going forward when it comes to BTS content. It's such an easy way to add a very personal and up close pov to the scenes. YET, I feel like the scaled down crew of AYS and the use of Go-Pro's and especially the lack of attention to the audio has led to some pretty egregious technical setbacks. From choppy audio to a lack of proper coverage in certain scenes. This leads to an edit that has to cover a lot of potholes, so to speak. Do you think this is purely due to the intimate nature of AYS (less crew means more comfort for jikook, easier travel in between locations) or something else? Where's that Disney money 😩😩😩?

Hi Sol, I'm loving our exchanges, so thank you for keeping it going and sending me such an interesting prompt! I definitely had to think about this one a little bit to find how to encapsulate my thoughts.

The short answer is, I think this all just speaks to how the BTS production team is approaching experimental content and the financing required for such projects. Some comparables would be Suchwita and Jin's Alcohol Journey.

Let's start with Jin's show first.

(For anyone that hasn't watched it, I highly recommend. I don't drink but I still found it fascinating.) This is a 4 part episodic show that followed Jin as he learned about and made his own batch of a traditional drink. This show was a collaboration with Chef Baek Jong-won.

Personally, I feel this show was a success. Definitely leaned into more traditional filmmaking and storytelling (appropriately given the subject matter) and was a little more heavy-handed with the promo of Jin's solo music. In my opinion, this will lean the content to feeling more dated than it truly is but that may give us a hint as to how it was funded. There weren't any blatant sponsorships aside from the partnership with Chef Baek so it could have been reconciled as part of the promotions for The Astronaut. Wooteo is pretty prevalent in the show and it aired in the midst of the promo content.

I don't remember when the deal with Disney started to become known but I don't recall anyone in my circles angry that it wasn't getting the Disney release. (Could have been happening but I really limit where I spend my time engaging in social media so maybe that's on me for not being aware. Does anyone here remember if this was an issue?)

Now, let's move on to Suchwita.

(Disregard the quote on the above gif, I couldn't find a different one from the first ep.)

If you watch the first episode, it's on a different set and aired about a month before ep 2. When ep 3 airs, they first make it very clear that the show 'survived'. This is what leads me to believe that episode 1 was filmed on speculation. They could use that as a proof-of-concept to shop the show around to brands to secure more long-term funding. Suchwita's main focus as a show in the current events space is very focused on the guest's current projects and promotions.

Getting back to AYS,

We're far enough into the show that I believe we can rule out album promotions as being a financial driver. Not only because most of the member's songs that even make an appearance in the show were long-ago released but the manner in which they were incorporated is indicative as well. They're really only mentioned in the context of bringing us into the member's lives and sharing in the joy they have for eachother's work. (Also hopefully satisfying those fans that only ask the members to mention other member's songs when one of them would livestream...but that's a subject for another day.)

I think there's a strong possibility that the US eps were filmed on speculation as well. That there was no guarantee of a Disney release at the time. Just like the other shows, they knew they knew they could release on their own if Disney decided to pass so the footage definitely wouldn't be wasted. But I believe that's why the scope of the show seems vaguely undefined during eps 1&2.

Everything else that we've been discussing regarding production honestly seems within the typical scope of BTS's content under similar circumstances. Yes, there is plenty of room for improvement, but it's far from the worst show BTS has ever produced. I think one of the points that makes ppl think it's worse than it is is the management of expectations. I mentioned this in my review of Jimin's Production Diary but if we approach that show expecting that we're going to get detailed breakdown of all of the steps to create an album, we'll be very disappointed. Likewise, AYS is not a detailed vlog of how our members spent their time in these mini vacations.

One last thought,

BTS is not really given the space to experiment and explore. True experimentation requires space for failure, realignment, and growth. And that's just not something BTS has been granted the luxury of. There is such EXPECTATION with everything they release. Everything HAS to be success. That's one of the reasons I was so thrilled to hear RM had performed an unreleased song at the D-DAY concert. Crowdworking new material at concerts was a staple of tourning bands in the west and it helps bands get such critical live feedback DURING the creative process. Now, I don't think that was necessarily the goal with RMs performance but it's so lovely to see him able to even take a step in that direction. Such a thing woukd have been completely unheard of years prior. Fans (likely still) would have been clamoring about being led astray if the song changed drastically after that performance.

Anyway, I could very easily be completely wrong about all of this so let's all take it with a huge grain of salt.

[inflame]

yellowjackets au.

she's #3. if i made a list of all the untaken numbers and then read about soccer positions DO NOT worry about it. that is not your business. i still will not be pretending i know anything about sports, but i wanted a number for the bit 🫶

(i think that also puts her as playing defense specifically opposite laura lee, which is just funny to me, but whatever.)

so. as we all know, it is very difficult for me to take laura out of tp, so i have not put a lot of thought into anything that would be Pre-Crash. i've just kind of transposed the towns on top of each other and am handwaving the inconsistencies. most of what i've written and discussed has been wilderness-focused, and it will likely stay that way, but at least she won't die first. or second. which is an improvement (i'm definitely open to letting her live, but i'm not gonna cross that bridge unless i come to it naturally through plotting, etc.).

i don't want to write too much of her own Psychic Woods-Adjacent crap into this because i don't want to, like, make it about her, but 1. she will be having visions and trying to keep them to herself (like always), 2. she will be sleepwalking (also like always, and also like taissa: maybe they can share some dirt), and 3. she will PROBABLY be doing some dream-sharing with the other like, intuitive and/or paranormally vulnerable girls. that could be fun to play with, i think. she will be journaling obsessively (like always), but hopefully hiding that a little more successfully than shauna.

now. on a practical level. laura is a caretaker. i don't mean she's "the mom friend" --- she most definitely is not that --- but in any world where she lives, she ends up a home health aide / something generally nurse-adjacent, and she's been inclined that way all her life for. reasons that don't belong here. my main point is, she'll be right up there with misty in terms of "i took the red cross babysitting training class! twice!" and she's actually got a bedside manner. so that's useful. she is also incredibly used to being in the woods. i always joke that she bullied her way into being a boy scout and i'm always, well, mostly serious (and she had a lot of help from margaret and hawk). she's knowledgable about edible plants, shit you can make medicine from, how to build impromptu shelters --- all that kind of stuff. she can sew, too, so that's at least two people who are capable of stitching someone/something up.

she has no leadership skills, however. i am sorry. the irony of putting laura in this situation is that i think she would be GREAT at team sports, but otherwise she is not much of a team player --- she's an only child, and a creative only child, at that. it's not that she's opposed! she will do her best! she's just used to going her own way, and that's a hard habit to break. she loves feeling useful, so she would be happy to teach anybody anything she knows --- but it probably won't occur to her to offer. she will be nicer to lottie about her premonitions than a lot of the girls are (not least because she will remind her of her mother), but she also will not be comfortable answering to someone else's intuition. she doesn't know how to operate that way. the cultish aspects of the [gestures] everything will be distressing to her, though i can't say she'll be entirely immune, especially if joining in seems like the only way to survive (we are already all too aware that laura perceives herself in fragments). i just think she's primed for resistance in a way most of the other girls aren't, and she'll actually be sleeping for the first time since she was twelve. so in a weird way, she'll be in her element.

dot-connecting tidbits: 1. we know fuck all about laura's dad's family by design, so she and van could be related, but i'm only bothering to develop that if somebody writing her Wants To. 2. laura's 'homecoming queen' rep is wholly contingent on her graduating class having like, 15 people in it, so i do not think it is relevant here. 3. her parents have run a [summer] community theater venture since she was a toddler, so it would not surprise me if misty and co. knew her from her growing up around that. 4. she's dated the same guy all through high school [bobby]. he's allegedly the quarterback of the football team in-universe, so i'm assuming he and jeff and all those guys would hang out. tragically. 5. donna, her best friend since kindergarten, would probably end up being like, academic rivals with shauna. which is just a funny thought to me. 6. for all the talk of laura's 'double life', she is a terrible liar (and mostly doesn't even bother), so the other girls probably know AT LEAST that she parties hard. it would not surprise me if jackie/anyone berated her the same ways they do nat. but we cannot go putting those two in the same room more than we must. nat deserves a break.

okay. i'm tired.

[igotanidea]

Gritty - sweetbitter fanfiction (Jake x OC) : chapter 3

Enjoy and share

Pairing: sweetbitter!Jake X OC

word count: 4.126

warnings: swearing, tension & angst, terrible liars ahead

masterlist

chapter 1 : Welcome to new York

chapter 2 : If we ever meet again

Chapter 3

Bruises

I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind but I hope I never loose the bruises that you left behind

It was unusually sunny morning and I woke up to the light shining through the curtains feeling sore and uncomfortable. That was when I figured that I fell asleep on the couch instead of bed and my position was far from comfortable. With that thought came the realization and remembrance of last night’s events and my unexpected, probably hung-over guest sleeping in the bedroom. I still could not comprehend why she decided to get wasted during work week, but who was I to judge. Unwillingly and with a bit of struggle I stretched my back until the little crack in the spine made me feel better and started getting ready for the day. Starting from preparing some medicine and water for Tess.

-Rise and shine, baby monster! – without any hesitation I walked right into the room and opened the curtains. Perhaps that was a bit harsh, but at least effective.

- Aghhhhh … - Tess muttered from under the blanked turning around from the light covering her sleeping figure.

- I’m serious, get up Tess. We got work, remember? Can’t fuck up on the second day.

- What day is it?

- Wednesday.

- Mhmhm – she slowly lifted herself to a sitting position – what happened yesterday? And could you please stop shouting? It hurts.

- I bet it does – I shrugged lowering my voice down a notch – I should be asking you what happened since I wasn’t there, but honestly I don’t want to know. What I can do now, however is help you survive the day without anyone realizing how hard you partied.

- I though you didn’t want to mother me….

- I don’t and I most definitely won’t, but since I let you crash her I feel responsible for you, however crazy that sounds.

- Thank you.

- Don’t thank me just yet. Now, up you go, we got to get you back to the usable state. Oh, and Tess, one rule about that – no questions, ok? I’ll help you, but I don’t want my methods questioned, is that understood.

- It is – she pulled the cover up and unsteadily stood up. Luckily she was capable of standing on her own. – So what ….? – she questioned but upon my gaze quickly realized she wasn’t supposed to ask – Sorry…

- It’s fine. Come with me. – I motioned her towards the kitchen and the table – this – I pointed towards the glass filled with a sparkling, pink drink – is something my friends invented during collage. A little bit of everything inside. Drink it. It will help. And better do it at a clip, like a shot.

With a bit of suspicion Tess watched the glass on every angle, smelling it and trying to figure out whether she can trust me. Probably wondering what I really meant by saying that there was a little bit of everything.

-We don’t have all day, baby monster.

- Really, you too? – she scoffed.

- Yeah, me too. It’s catchy and at this point really fits how you look.

- Well, thanks a lot – she shook her head and finally drunk the liquid. A second later she googled and her expression became sour and vomiting-like. – Shit! What is that?! Why didn’t you warn me it tastes like .... I don’t even know how to compare it to anything I know.

- Would you drink it I told you?

- Probably, yes.

-I’ll keep that in mind, but hopefully we won’t need it second time.

- How do you even know the recipe for it? You don’t look like a partying type, who would need something like that.

- Did it help?

- Yeah,… I think…. I mean, I don’t feel so dizzy anymore.

- Good. That’s all that matters now then.

- Hey – she grabbed my head resting on the kitchen island – why are you so private? You can disclose some things about yourself, you know. It’s nothing wrong  to share if that’s what you think.

- I don’t. – I cut her off, maybe a bit to coldly and sighed to ease the atmosphere – Look, Tess, I am not a party animal that’s true, but I am also not a recluse. I observe, learn and then act, not the other way round. And it was the same with recipe. I found it out with my own ways, ok? Does that satisfy your curiosity?

- Nope. Not at all, but fine – have it your way. For now.

- Something tells me you won’t let it go, though – I shook my head. – Take an aspirin then and get dressed. We have quite a walk to the work and hopefully it will clear your head too. And hurry up, please. None of us want any trouble. Any more trouble. And I;m supposed to meet Howard.

- Did something happened? – she turned around facing me with her eyes wide open

- Tess … - I warned her.

- Ok, fine, fine. No more questions.

***

This little stroll we took together was probably one of the weirdest, yet oddly satisfying experiences of my life. Having in mind that she was still new to the city, I shouldn’t be surprised how excited Tess got while turning her head at everything that got her attention. While I was rather intuitive and had the tendency to ignore the outside worlds, Tess was reacting to everything around. And I mean, literally everything – sounds, voices, places, people….. Naturally curious and it showed on the outside.

-If you don’t stop, I’ll leave you in the middle of the street – I warned her, but with a little smirk. It was quite amusing to watch her excitement.

-I’m not a kid, you know, I can find my way to the restaurant.

- Can you really? How long have you been in New York?

- A couple days.

- And you really think you know the way?

- Well,…….

-It’s ok, when I first moved here I got lost in the central park, so no shame in that. Besides if you look to your right you’ll see that we’re already here. Keep your head up and straight and not around, ok? – we crossed the street and entered the premise. – I got to find Howard….

-Mackie, Tess. Good morning.

- Hello Will – Tess smiled in response and the man became all sunshine and rainbow at once.

-  I give her over to you, Will, watch over. Have you seen the boss?

- In his office. Waiting for you. What did you do?

- Oh, can everyone just stop asking me that? – I rolled my eyes and walked where I was expected.

***

-Howard, you wanted to see me? – I emerged through the boss’ doors

-Mackie, punctual as always. Come on in and close the door please. There is something the three of us need to talk about.

-Three of us? – I squinted in confusion and then noticed the third person sitting in front of Howard. Jake, of course. – Oh…. Hello Jake. – he muttered something unintelligible in response and scooted over to make place for me. 

- I’ve come into information that you two have quite a history together.

- Simone? – I asked raising my eyebrow. Who else might spill the beans to him.

- The source is irrelevant.

- Well, it’s nothing of a secret – I assured – we do have a history.

- Quite turbulent from what I know.

-Depends on the definition, Howard. And do you consider that a problem of any sort? Because I don’t.

- That is why I wanted you both here. Is your past going to be a problem in the work area? Because if so…

- No! – we both said in unison and looked at each other.

- Quite a unison you have – Howard leaned toward us. – That is a bit suspicious. Jake – he turned toward him – do you have any issues with Mackie?

- Plenty – he mumbled probably thinking no one heard.

- What was that?

- I have no issue, problem or anything else with her. I’m good.

- You are clearly not – I mocked quietly.

- Mackie?

- I’m fine as well, boss. Everything is fine.

- Liar – he spit-whispered turning his head away and I threw daggers at him.  

- Listen you two, whatever it is you have going on, you better sort it out quickly. I don’t want any, any – he emphasized the word – conflict in the crew. Is that clear?

- Crystal – I crossed my arms while Jake just nodded grumpily.

- Good. You can go Jake, Mackie a word in private.

- This is highly unprofessional of me to treat you differently, but as a relative I’m gonna ask you again – is it a complication for you to work with Jake?

- How much did she tell you? – I retorted – how much do you know?

-  A little.

- How little? – I insisted

- I know you split up in less than friendly atmosphere. By his fault, according to Simone. 

- Admitting the source now?

- Mackie – he exhorted – let’s act like adults.

- I’m fine. I’ll admit it was a bit of a surprise seeing him here , but it’s nothing. I’m not  like the romance movies girls, who falls apart upon seeing her ex. He was a jerk back then and apparently nothing has changed, so he is a warning of himself. I’ll manage.

- I hope you will. But I’m still going to watch you.

- If that doesn’t sound creepy I don’t know what does. Can I go now? I got work to do.

- You may go.

I don’t like it. At all. Why the hell Simone couldn’t keep her mouth closed? Now, I’m going to be observed by Howard. Fuck it! I busted through the office door and bumped right into the other part of this alleged personal conflict.  Again.

-Watch where you going, Mack.

-Well, maybe you should be more careful of where you’re standing. It seems like you were eavesdropping.

- You think you are so fucking important, don’t you? – he scoffed – I don’t care what the hell you were talking about with Howard. He has a thing for girls younger than him. Maybe you have intimate connection with him. – he took a step towards me. It felt like my body reacted on itself when my hand shoot forward and slapped him on the face with a loud noise, and unfortunately got the attention of Will and Tess who happened to be close enough to see it. Jake raised his head and looked at me, a mixture of sorrow, hurt and anger on his face. To be honest I was terrified of what just happened and instantly wanted to apologize but couldn’t force myself to do so. Instead, a memory came right at me.

Flashback, 5 years ago.

-What happened? – Simone exclaimed upon seeing Jake with reddened face and a bleeding cut on his cheek, automatically reaching towards him in order to help.

-Nothing – he scoffed turning away from her hand.

- He got in a fight, don’t you? – I was sitting on the couch with a book and unlike Simone didn’t want to push him into confessing anything. I was staying at the Cape Cod for a weekend, but was considering cutting the visit short, since the atmosphere was unbearable.

-I didn’t – he mumbled again.

-Well, this cut speak for itself, you know. You should have it patched up. – I pointed out.

- Let me help you, Jake – Simone reached for the first aid kit.

-I’m fine, Simone, leave it. – he was quick to leave the room we were in and disappeared inside his bedroom.

- I’m going to go talk to him – Simone stated

-Don’t – I stopped her – you know how he is. He will never talk when pushed. Let him come around.

- Weil, that is how you behave, isn’t  it? Unlike you I actually care about people, so maybe you are the one who should back off. It’s unbelievable that you have the audacity to call yourself his girlfriend if that’s how you act.

- I don’t label myself.

-But you have been together for the last couple years, haven’t you? So maybe you should act like one!

- Maybe – I retorted calmly, not responsive towards her harshness – and maybe I should reconsider coming here if that’s how you feel about me.

- No, wait, Mackie, I’m sorry. Please, stay. Jake has been distant lately and I guess it had some effect on me.

-He’s always distant, Simone.

- Not towards me. We used to be close and I’m afraid I might be losing him.

-Perhaps you should give free rein to him? Maybe you’re holding too tight?

 - No. I don’t. I just care about him. But this time, I’ll listen and give him space. I’m going for a walk, want to join?

- Thanks, but I want to finish the chapter. This book is extremely gripping.

-Nerd – she smiled at me playfully – see you later than.

It wasn’t long after she left, when Jake emerged from his room. I knew he would.

-Mackie.

- Jake.

-Can you….?

- Sure.

He came closer and sat down on the edge of sofa turning his hurt cheek towards me and letting me dress it properly. Anyone else at my place would probably start asking tons of questions, but that wasn’t me. We respected each other bounds and personal space and those where the pillars of bilateral trust and … other  emotions.

-I got in a fight – he finally gasped looking me straight into the eyes softly.

- I know – I caressed his cheek. – Do I have to ask? 

- It was because of you – he admitted – I wanted to….

-It’s ok  - I assured – you can say it.

- I overheard some guys talking shit about you.

- How so?

- They called you a New York slut. They said the soda water hit your head and you believe yourself better than anyone else.  

- Jake?

-Yeah?

-Was one of those boys Ryan Blake?

-Yes.

- You know what happened with him, right?

- You rejected him, right?

- I did. For some good reasons – I looked down.

- Hey, Mackie, I don’t need to know. Whatever this piece of shit says about you I know it’s not true – he grabbed my chin forcing me to look back at him and slightly leaned forward. –I just had to stand up for you. I know you.   

- I know you do –I whispered, our foreheads now touching in this gentle manner where you just enjoy the closeness of the other person. Breathing the other in and feeling the warmth coming from each other body. For some reason I felt safe with him, almost like at home. I really was in love with him, even if after all this time together we still didn’t use the words, this was one the moment that reminded me that even if none of us where particularly expressive and emotional we still belonged to each other and have this inner connection, that was  extremely rare to find.

- Good – he leaned forward and gently connected his lips to mine. It was only for a second and left me wanting more from and of him. When he pulled back I just smirked signalizing what I needed and he kissed me again, this time longer. This  intimate twinkling, as usual,  made me wonder how it was possible for him to be so passionate yet so gentle at the same time, but you know what they say about the quiet ones …. Still waters run deep.

His lips were just so soft and the way they felt on mine was something I was always longing for, even if I sometimes forgot that and needed a reminder. Being with him was challenging but every time he opened enough for a physical contact made up for all the silence and occasional understatements. I chuckled lightly when I felt his hands on my waist pulling me closer so I was now sitting on his lap letting his fingers roam over my back while I was softly playing with his hair. It was getting more and more heated by second and I was melting. Even though I was torn between the desire of being touched by him and the wish that one of us would stop it, before Simone return. Futile effort. I wanted him and he was more than eager to show me how much he wanted me too.

- Jake – I gasped feeling him lowering his kisses toward my neck finding my safe spot which made me moan quietly. Enough of encouragement for him to continue – we shouldn’t…

- Is that so? – he didn’t halt – do you want me to stop? – he muttered against my skin, reaching under my shirt to touch my bare skin. -  I missed you and it’s been a while since we had …..

- Jake – I gathered all my strength to pull away and he gave me sad and hurt look of a broken cat. Why was it so hard to resist him – what about Simone? She might be back any minute, now. She’s already not ok with us being together even if she covers up for it pretty well.

- Why should we care about that?

- I don’t want to risk her wrath. Do you?

- I hate you – he stopped his journey over my body, but still kept me close. – You ruined the moment – he whispered against my lips.

- Maybe. But if I can ruin it I can also create opportunity for another – I smirked putting my hands on his shoulder and kissing him briefly, almost unnoticeably.

- Tease. Remind me how do I bear with you? – he brushed his nose over mine and this felt more thrilling than previous heated kisses and touches. More private and emotional. A little gesture just between us.  

- The same way I deal with you, grumpy. Now, let me go, Jake.

- No – his grip tightened and it was getting hard to breathe – You’re just going to disappear in New York again. You are never here when I need and want you the most. And I always want and need you – he whispered in my ears and I almost gave in to his seduction.

- I hate it too, but let’s be at least marginally decent. Fucking on a couch in the middle of a room is not that.

-What if I don’t care? – he murmured to me again.

- Too bad for both of us, than – distracting him with touching his chest I managed to yank myself free and move away for a safe distance . Right in time, since Simone came inside the room a minute later. It was impossible for her not to notice our flushed cheeks, messy hair and fast breathing but she did not say a word about that.

- Anyone fancy some wine? – her smile could literally light up whole Cape Cod.

 End of flashback

“They called you a New York slut. I just had to stand up for you” – those few words were now ringing in my ears on repeat. How ironic that now he was the one to imply that I truly was one and did not feel very protective. How easy it is to forget who we were before. Funny how much people change.

-NY slut, huh? – I spit through clenched teeth.

- Mackie, I …. – he immediately came to realization of his words as the same memory flashed behind his eyes.

- Don’t …. Don’t you dare saying another word – I was a cold fury – I had enough – I moved past him, purposefully bumping his arm. Apparently a mistake since he grabbed my wrist, pulling me close to his chest, inches apart and trying to stop me – Kestrel…. – he whispered.

- Let her go, Jake – Will came to the rescue, his voice strong and commanding.

-Stay out of it Will.

- No, you stay away from me. – I pushed him which caused Jake to stumble and in effect  to let go. I used that as my opportunity to walk away, Will following me closely.

- Mackie! Wait, stop! What happened there? – he grabbed my arm from behind making me turn and face him.

- It’s nothing Will – I shrugged indifferently. – Just a little misunderstanding.

- It didn’t look like it. What is going on between you and Jake? You don’t seem like a person to slap a stranger out of the blue so there must be some history to it.

- Will, stop pushing me. It’s long gone story. Water under the bridge. The mist of history. A closed chapter. Whatever you want to call it.  The past is in the past.

- You are a terrible liar, you know.

- Can we just please, please, focus on the work? That is why we are here, right? And you shouldn’t have left Tess alone. By the way, care to share how the last night went? Like for example, why the hell was she walking home at night alone after partying?

- Wait. She what? – he turned around observing Tess who was now unsuccessfully trying to talk to Jake – is she …. wasted? – he whispered.

- Not anymore – I crossed my arm – but why didn’t you walk her home?

- I wasn’t attending the party. I just came to Home Bar, spend a while there and went back home, Sasha promised me to keep her safe.

- Russian boy, deal breaker – I muttered and shook my head – work on?

- Yes. Obviously. Now I need to keep myself busy too. But this talk is far from over after the shift is done. As your supervisor, I require answers.

- And what do you require as a friend? – I smiled lightly

- Did you just say ….?

- I said nothing – I chuckled – must be your imagination.

- Sure. Imagination – he agreed – imagine how much fun you are going to have preparing the dinnerware for tonight.

-Loads. Better start now. – I looked over his arm at Tess, who was now left alone since Jake stormed out, not sure of what do to. – Come on, baby monster. We got work to do.

***

Jake’s POV

I deserved that. I know.

She was always fierce on the inside. I remember her passion very vividly. All the times we ….. never mind.

And now, she’s fucking laughing with fucking Will next to her.

Good thing I’m over her. The past is in the past.

***

- So, Will. That women at the table yesterday? The one who talked about wine? Who is she? – Tess hands were busy with tablecloths and wipers she was folding but that didn’t stop her talkativeness.

- Simone. She is many things but she is not your friend. Trust me on that. Or, you can ask Mackie about it. They seem to know each other – he looked at me playfully -  But I’m not sure if you’ll get any answers from the mystery.

- She seems nice. Why such approach? – Tess insisted.

- Help me here, Mack  -Will turned towards me looking for support.

- I’m not going to ….

- …. mother me, I know – Tess rolled her eyes – you are annoying with that attitude, you know. – I just want to know about her.

- Simone is … really something. It’s worth having a relation with her, she can teach you a lot and definitely is a keeper, but getting too close to the fire result in burns. If you know what I mean.

- And what about Jake? They seem extremely close.

- They are like a package deal, but I’m not talking about him.

- Why not? You surely have a history together as well?

- Really, are you two ganging up on me? Fine, we were together for like 5 years IN THE PAST. And Howard is already up my ass about that, so could you just let go? Please?

- You were together? – Tess eyes widened – like together together?

- Yes, together together, but I’d prefer to keep it on DL, can you do the same? Both of you? – I eyed Will too and they nodded their heads – And if you want to get involved with him you have my blessing, permission whatever, ok? Just drop the subject.

- But I want to know …..

- Ok, I think I’m done here – Will raised his hands in surrender – I don’t want to hear you gossiping about personal details.

- Right. Me. Gossiping – I scoffed – Wait, Will, don’t leave me with her – I chased after the man who walked right to the front of the restaurant. – I’m going to prepare the tables!

@pinksirensong @meganmayhem89 @anastacia-lynn @wardlow @queenshelby @j@juxtaposeddreamer @dees-newest-obsession @amandarobertsboyce

[anonymousfoz]

tell me about Loop 420! what elements of it are your favorite??

So there are two Loop 420s. Both have the same idea but they way the world is built and the mystery that is going on, changes.

Loop 420 is set in a DND like world where a party who were really close, suddenly had 1-2 members starting to act strange after they defeated a cult for some high up demon. One party member kills the other estranged member and then goes on to kill the rest before dying to their paladin. Then the loop will repeat. Every repeat gives the MC (the 1st one dead) more information on their friend group, their world and their hidden past.

Now this is written with 2 different friend groups. One previous one and one current one. I will maybe post the older one, one day. (Sorry).

Older one: The MC (me) turns out to be related to the higher up demon and was given a new identity and life for protection. They struggle to survive their old friend who is constantly trying to murder MC through the loops. MC attempts to save their friends from the loops and slowly each friend becomes aware and have to decide to kill their friend, now knowing she's no longer the same person they knew PRIOR to looping. (This wasn't finished)

Newer one: I haven't really thought out how MC (me) is related to the demon but this version is more of a project with my DND crew with @vite-poh being the killer, despite she would probably never hurt fly (no offense vite <3). The idea is the same with each friend eventually becoming aware and having to decide to put down Vite knowing she's not the same friend or be forced to loop again.

If the entire group dies to the killer, expect the paladin the loop will reset. But if the characters are aware, they instantly go to work together. So it does become a horror novel by the end.

Hopefully one day, I can redo it with some fellow moots with each person pitching in their own character and helping write it ofc.

Samples of writing below (from newer and older): [Trigger warning for older one, brutal/gruesome deaths. After all a main premise of this story is DYING]

Newer:

The night was peaceful. The melody of wildlife was boisterous, with the low voices of frogs croaking, mixing with the higher voices of the chirping crickets. Every little raindrop adding rhythm to the harmonious sound. The grass was as green as ever and the moon shone as bright as the sun. It was a perfect night… like the other 419 times that Titan had experienced. It had seemed that Titan was constantly stuck in a loop where they were the first to die every loop. Always first, always stabbed in the back by the person she called her friend. But not this time. This torturous cycle had to end. Titan decided it would be best to stay out of their house in the woods, but in the woods. Compared to her other friends, they were more comfortable and experienced in living in the wildness than her friends. Titan had seen someone walk toward her house. Vite. Titan’s stomach ached with disgust; it had always been Vite to kill everyone before being killed by Lolark at the end of the cycle. Titan had memories of every cycle, even after death. Vite had wandered inside Titan’s house, searching for them before leaving frustrated. Titan had lived through the night, but what would happen next? How could Titan convince the others that Vite had intentions to murder them? That question was stuck in their head until dawn. As the sun rose, she walked towards town. The loop was broken, but Titan was not safe as long as Vite was alive. But why was Vite always out to get them? This wasn’t Vite’s normal behavior and nothing that Titan knew of could had caused this. The rogue took a deep sigh as they walked through the forest and out to town.

Older:

Demi reached town and was the first to get at their local breakfast place. Or so she thought. Haru was there, waiting in the darkness. The anger was clearly displayed on her face. Her golden eyes shined through the void of darkness, watching Demi enter like a hawk spying on its unsuspecting prey. “What do you think you are doing alive? You’re not supposed to make it this far,” she coldly stated, “We have roles to fulfill and if you try to tell the others they will never believe you. I suggest you don’t unless you want to be dragged into pits of Hell by your hair and left to burn alive for eternity.” Demi was caught off guard. Haru knew and still murdered her and the rest. Why? After all those years of bonding and adventures and quests? She murders them over and over like deer to feed the party for days. “You knew yet you didn’t try to stop it?” Demi’s anger poured out. “Why! I will tell them if we must do this loop again. I will not die again at the hands of you.” “If the loop doesn’t repeat, He will reset it. Sacrifices are needed for Him and since you revealed you know. He will come for you and force you to take part.” Demi was growing upset. She grabbed Haru by her shirt and pinned her against the wall. “WHO IS HE?!” She was losing her patience, “Why does he need sacrifices, why are you going along with this?” She demanded answers. Haru pushed her back with a simple spell before fixing herself up. “You will find out in loop 422, unless you want everyone to die a brutal death by being blown up this morning. You have 10 minutes before they all come, and a cliff is nearby. Choice is yours.” Haru pointed to the cliff, with a good run and a high jump the death would be painless and fast. Demi didn’t have much to consider. Most of their deaths were painless, and if they looped again, everyone would be alive again and wouldn’t know what happened. She got a good run up and leaped off the cliff. Her eyes closed as the world around her felt as if it was dragging her down to the underworld until she heard a splat and then she was back in her house.

Twas a braw morning in [town]. Unfortunately this would be [name]'s last morning alive.  “Let me go! I am no witch! Ye fuckin arse!” She tried to get out of the Marshall’s grasp. However the adolescent was no match for the Marshall. “Ye too late. Ye were seen making a pact with the devil and ye chored for him. And the others confessed to seeing ye do it while ye was out the woods.” “Naw, I would never of choring, tis a sin!” She tried to get mercy at this point. She had been caught but she still tried to save herself but she feared it was already too late. “Ye are lying and ye will be the first to hang in our town's history!” The marshall coldy responded while yanking the adolescent closer to the noose they had set up. “Not if I have anything to do about it!” The marshall couldn’t believe it. The devil was right in front of him. In shock he let go of her. But she was still held by a chain around her neck. “Luci! Ye came to save me,” the girl went to hug him, however she was dragged back by the chain around neck. The marshall pulled her onto a wooden platform that was wet. The noose was set up as this was used for public executions. “Ye are too fuckin late, and the reverend put holy water on this very platform. Ye can’t come up and save her.” And like that her fate was sealed. She let out a cry of terror but it was quickly ended by a snap of her neck. After that the marshall was found dead near her body, seeming to be eaten by wild beasts. And it was said it didn’t stop raining for months afterwards. Horrors and famine would come to the land and had never left until the settlement all died and a new town was built over it.

[nicad13]

Crossroads: Chapter 9

The Revealed Past

Summary: Din finds out.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Raging Drunk Din, Religious Conflict

Rating: Mature

---

No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more Well, I wake up in the morning Fold my hands and pray for rain I got a head full of ideas That are drivin' me insane

Bob Dylan, Maggie’s Farm (performed by Rage Against the Machine)

---

Rayne rode the monorail on her way home from the temple, gaze lost out the window as it glided over the city on its single track.

The key to her son’s future quite possibly lay in the memory stick in her pocket.

They key to his father’s past might also be there, too.

The thought sent a chill down her spine.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. It might as well happen sooner.

Things with Din had reached a comfortable steady-state on Methuselah. They were both almost completely ruled by their son. Both of them orbited Yadier like the tiny little celestial body he was. Only a gravity well as powerful as his could’ve pulled the two of them together. Once they shared the same course, peeling Din’s layers back had revealed a man of tremendous contradictions and complexity, a man used to inflicting and receiving brutality, but demonstrating immense aptitude at kindness. For a guy whose life had done nothing but beat him down, Din was remarkably… gentle. His voice defaulted to a smooth tenor. He handled Yadier with a light touch. Weapons and armor were polished with care. Even in their moments together, alone, he was achingly slow, achingly tender in his movements.

He was broken in a lot of ways, some of which had begun to heal on Methuselah, but something at his core had remained intact enough to allow that gentleness to exist. To drift out from under the armor.

She wondered about what they would find in all of the data she had downloaded.

She wondered if it would break him apart all over again.

She wondered if any of his gentleness would survive.

---

Reesha copied the data, and they all began to sift through the records to see what was available and maybe determine a coordinated search strategy. Inevitably, they each got sucked into the rabbit holes of their own interests. Zavin dove into lightsaber designs. Reesha read up on cloning techniques. Din sifted through Death Watch history. Rayne started aimlessly, then looked up her own record with her old name.

“Huh. I’m still listed as MIA.” She scrolled down a bit so her name was obscured, then dragged it to the main projector so all could see. Indeed, the record had the last photograph taken of her while a youngling at the temple, all of ten years old. Curly hair pulled into pigtail braids, last known location still listed as Coruscant. There wasn’t much else to it, ending with her birth planet: Onderon.

Din tilted his head. “Did you know that’s where you’re from?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever go back? Try to find your parents?”

“No.”

Din’s posture stiffened, shocked. He would have left no stone unturned if there had ever been any hope that his parents had survived the attack on his world.

Sensing his confusion, she elaborated. “I wasn’t an easy baby. The Jedi picked me up so quickly because my parents couldn’t handle me. They didn’t want me.”

“How can you know that?”

“A lot of the kids who came in later, when they were older… they didn’t have good experiences with their parents. They said they were happier at the temple. They didn’t get homesick.”

“Their parents weren’t trained properly.”

“No. And neither were mine. I was also a liability after Order 66, so…” She shrugged. The implication was clear. Rayne and Din were in the same position. Rayne did what she could, but given the enormity of Yadier’s strength, it wouldn’t be enough. They owed it to him to get him to his people.

Din sighed, returning to his own reading, which was disturbing him more and more.

A month ago, on the way to Methuselah, Rayne had given him the briefest of history lessons on the shared legacy of the Jedi and Mandalore, culminating with the Dark Saber. It irked him that he knew nothing about it. It irked him that Gideon had it. It irked him that Gideon knew anything at all about him.

He was caught unprepared when it came to history, and he meant to fix that.

By now, he was starting to regret it.

His first reaction was to disbelieve it, given that the data were downloaded from the Jedi Temple, of all places. But as he got further in, he found copies of the original documents, original orders. Things that should have seemed weird when he was a kid, things he’d never given much thought to, suddenly made sense. Things like the fact that he had never actually set foot on Mandalore. He had never wondered why, instead, Death Watch was headquartered on Concordia, one of Mandalore’s moons, where they raised him. It was just How It Was. It was the Way.

Because Death Watch was born from the remains of warriors who were exiled there. For their role in a history of wars that left most of Mandalore itself a desert wasteland. He read of terrorist attacks on Mandalore, authorized by Pre Vizsla. He read of their leadership by a Sith Lord. He read of their alliance with…

… Their alliance with Separatist forces during the Clone Wars.

Din’s stomach turned.

He read more documents, outlining tactics of gaining political support, various ways that Death Watch could position themselves to swoop in as liberators in response to manufactured events. Everything from an attempt to force the Republic’s hand into occupying Mandalore to… to…

… To staging Separatist droid attacks on Outer Rim planets.

The worst thing was that, so far as he knew, the various coverts that spawned from Death Watch were the only ones to survive as recognizable Mandalorians. So far as he knew, all of the Mandalorians who had survived adhered to the strict interpretations of the Creed. As extremist as it was, it had worked. Secrecy really had been their survival.

He had to stop.

Taking a page from Rayne’s book, he instead poked around to see if he could find anything on himself, knowing he was likely in there somewhere if Gideon had known so much about him. After a few minutes, he found it.

“Huh. The last photograph taken of me before I swore the Creed.”

“Seriously? Is it ok if I see?”

“Sure, I guess.” If the Mandalorians had seen fit to document his appearance before donning the helmet, it was probably fine. He sent it to the central projector for all of them.

Rayne sat back, shocked.

He was so young.

Just a little boy, not much older than ten or eleven. Her eyes skipped around the document, and saw the date. Twelve. He was twelve in that picture. Twelve years old when he was forced to make the decision to give over his soul and hide his face for the rest of his life.

Once she got over the shock, she took in the features. His hair was dark, straighter than the loosely-curled lock that lay encased in the beskar at her throat. The line of his jaw was sharp for his age, indicating a scrawniness to his body despite the otherwise round face. His eyes were dark brown, round and huge.

He looked scared.

Din scrolled through more of the record, back to when he was adopted into the covert. Only his status read as “Captured.”

Uh oh…

“Captured? What…” He cross-referenced and found… not rescue orders, but invasion orders.

Signed by Clan Vizsla.

Din scrolled through the dates and locations of the attacks, forgetting that everyone else at the table was seeing the same thing. Hoping not to see it. Begging fate not to see it.

There it was. The name of his homeworld. The name of his village. The date.

The day his life as a normal human being ended.

He had been prone to flashbacks since that day, forced by his mind to relive those moments over and over again. Droids blasting every place he had been. Droids slaughtering every person he knew. Droids sending the deafening impact that destroyed his parents.

It was happening again.

It had been Death Watch all along.

The people who had saved him. Who had raised him as one of their own. Who he had sworn an oath to. Who he had sacrificed for. Who he had devoted his life to.

His whole life was a lie.

The people who had destroyed his home, murdered his parents, stolen him, had in turn recycled him into one of them. Trained him for war. Trained him to kill. He was nothing but a murderer. Giving everything he had to foundlings who would become murderers themselves.

He had been on the wrong side of everything the whole time.

The Creed. His life. The Way. Was dust.

A small click sounded from behind the mask. He forced his body up and out of his seat, into a slow turn, not trusting himself to move any faster, forcing his legs to carry him out of the room. His only fluid motion was the way he hooked his finger around the neck of the bottle of whisky that had been left out on the counter as he passed by it, swinging it off the surface and taking it with him.

He needed something to head off the flashbacks. Already, he could feel his mind begin to flay open, could smell the tell-tale ozone of blaster fire as he started to drift back to that moment. He fought to hold it back, but he would not be able to for long. It was either booze or a bullet through his head.

Rayne followed him. “Hey – whoa…” She backed off as he drew his sidearm, then caught back up, relieved as he switched his hold to the barrel and handed her the grip. He bent mid-stride, pulled the knife from his boot, and handed that to her as well.

His weapons were his religion, and he had just surrendered them.

“I’m locking myself on the Crest and you’re going to leave me alone.” His voice was broken glass over granite. He pulled his vambraces off and gave them to her, only keeping the mechanism to unlock the outer ramp. He would be unable to access the weapons locker. His Amban was still hanging in its place by the flight deck door, but he figured it was too long for him to manage to blow his own brains out with it unless he used his toes on the trigger. He was not about to die with his boots off, so that would probably be alright.

“Ok. Just keep the helmet off so I can keep tabs on you.”

He hefted the whiskey bottle. “I sure as shit am not drinking this through a straw.”

“That… works out.”

He was silent as she watched him leave.

He boarded the Razor Crest, closed the ramp, pulled the helmet off, and let it clatter to the floor. He considered the bottle in his hand for a brief moment.

Given all he was capable of, all the betrayal in his heart, all the ghosts in his head, sometimes self-medication really was the safest alternative.

He placed the whiskey on the table, procured a glass from the galley, returned, and had a seat. Poured several ounces into the glass and knocked it back, embracing the burn as it blazed down his throat and up into his sinuses.

It was all a lie.

He’d always given everything he had to the coverts. Everything he had. And Vizla had the nerve to try and shame him for it.

Paz fucking Vizla. A token change of spelling from the Vizsla name, ostensibly to indicate a break from the Vizslas who had aligned with the Empire for a time, but the damage had already been done by then.

For a creed that chanted “heart before blood” as often as it did, House Vizsla always seemed to be at the top of the pile. They had been the heart and soul of Death Watch for decades. Paz, at the very least, had seen himself near the top of the Tribe hierarchy at the Nevarro covert. Foundlings usually wound up being raised in the Fighting Corps, with fewer than half getting adopted into the clans. The detritus of war and trauma, foundlings often had difficulty integrating back into a family as children, and had trouble starting clans of their own as adults. Din was far from unique in this situation. Foundlings were brought in, attempts at full integration were made, and the ones who couldn’t were praised for their contributions in combat and resources.

The Way, as told by the clans in power.

The Truth was that foundlings’ homes were destroyed. They were kidnapped. They were used for gun fodder, slavery, and breeding stock. Used to bolster the numbers of a dying faction.

A faction that deserved to die.

Din had been a cog in that machine for thirty-five years. He’d given everything. Money. Beskar. His own DNA. A handful of the Mandalorian women he’d been with had wanted children, had asked unprotected intimacy of him, and he had given it without hesitation. Like him, they had all been foundlings. Not part of a clan, not looking to start one, partial to the same nomadic life. The mystery of the outcomes had never bothered him, believing they would be well-cared for by the Corps or an adoptive family if anything had come to fruition.

Now, suddenly, it pulled on him.

“Heart before blood.” Investigating one’s own lineage outside of clan membership was taboo. It wasn’t supposed to matter. What kind of creeper didn’t have faith in the Corps or an adoptive clan to raise a kid? If you didn’t have it in you to be part of a clan, you had no business asking. Now, he realized that was by design. Shut up and breed, was what it really meant. Give us your flesh and blood and don’t ask questions.

Had there ever been any? Were any of them still alive? How much of his blood had been spilled for such dishonor? He would never know.

Vizsla. The name ran talons down the back of Din’s neck. The Vizslas had ordered the attack on his village. The Vizslas had stolen his parents and his life. If Paz wasn’t already among the dead on Nevarro, Din would hunt him down and add his helmet to the pile in the sewers of the covert. The only question was whether he would make Paz’s head part company with his shoulders before or after removing it.

After. Definitely after.

He wanted Paz to see it coming. He wanted to see Paz in disgrace. He wanted to reach out and extract Paz’s soul with his own hands. He wanted to look Paz in the eye when he slit his throat. Oh, he knew how hard his hands would shake when he did it and how much of a mess that would make. And that would make it even better.

He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he’d bitten his own lip.

His mind traded one flashback for another.

The sudden compulsion to draw his own blood gripped him like it hadn’t since he was fifteen. Since the day Alaria had found him on the floor of his room, hours after failing his first set of trials, six neat lines carved across his thigh, one for each of the Resol’nare, just above his kneecap. Having her find him like that was the last thing he’d wanted, but he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, finally relieved of the shame of his failure in his head when he’d inflicted physical pain upon himself, giving his mind something else to focus on, something he was used to dealing with. Deaf to her knocking at his door. Concerned, she’d over-ridden the lock.

He reached for the knife in his boot and came up empty, belatedly remembering that he’d given it to Rayne for this exact reason.

Along with the ability to open the weapons locker.

He still had the kitchen knives in the galley.

He stood up and stumbled a little, the whiskey having gotten a good start on him already. He walked to the drawer by the bunk, stripped the armor off, and put it away.

He would feel no protection in armor tonight.

He had wanted so much to be like the Mandalorian who had rescued him, the armored figure silhouetted in light dimmed by smoke, beckoning him out of the bunker, scooping him up and flying him out of the battle zone. He had seemed so powerful. So invincible. And at the same time, so kind. He was everything Din had needed in that moment, and Din had wanted to be that kind of Mandalorian to someone else, someday. And when he’d finally gotten that chance, when he’d finally come upon a child in need of rescue, the child had, instead, saved his life. In return, he had sold that child to people who well and truly meant to harm him.

Now he knew that Mandalorian was not his rescuer, but his kidnapper. Had stolen him and trafficked him, sent him along for his brainwashing so he could participate in his own slavery with more than just enthusiasm, but with religious fervor.

Was it any wonder that Din had followed suit and sold his foundling?

He retrieved a paring knife from the galley, small but sharp, and placed it on the table.

When she had found him, Alaria had called her mother despite his protests, and she arrived shortly after with a medkit. She had said nothing, but closed the door behind her and set to work, cleaning, treating, and dressing his wound. When she was done, she had looked to her daughter. “Stay with him,” she’d said. “Call me if you need anything.” Alaria had nodded, then reached for her mother to pull her in for a hug. Her mother held her like that, on the floor in his room, for several moments, while he watched in silence. Her mother had then turned to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, bare of the pauldron that should have been there. “Is this about your trials today?” When he had been unable to voice an answer, she tried again. “Do you wish for me to speak with your sponsor?”

“No.”

She had nodded. “Only half succeed in their trials the first time through. Your instructors are confident that you will learn from your mistakes and succeed when you attempt them again next month. You are capable when you put your mind to it, Din. Do not let this deter you.”

A whispered “Thank you” was all he could manage as she stood to leave.

Now, Din turned from the table and plucked his medkit off of a shelf, then had a seat, taking his right boot off and pulling the pantleg up over his knee. He poured out another several ounces of whiskey and downed it. He wondered how much Alaria’s mother had known about the attack on his village. Chances were good she’d known all about it. Chances were good that she’d participated in it. Chances were good that the mother of his first intimate partner had participated in the op that destroyed his village, murdered his parents, and kidnapped him. The thought raged against the inside of his skull.

With a steady hand, he held the knife over the shot glass and poured a measure of whiskey down one side of the blade, then the other. All he wanted to do was slice himself open, not give himself gangrene. He then bent over and drew the knife in a straight, shallow line high across the side of his calf, where the Amban shells would lay on his boot, feeling something loosen in his chest as he did so.

Had Alaria’s mother ever told her? Had she ever confessed to her daughter that the reason her partner was a wreck was because she’d fucking murdered his parents? He drew a second line with the knife below the first, and finally noticed the tears when one rolled off his face and fell into the fresh cuts, stinging. Was that why Alaria had chosen him in the first place? Because she felt guilty? He drew a third line below the second, and finally felt the sharpness of it, finally felt his flesh come apart at the edge of the knife.

A small part of him, deep down, a part he had never admitted to himself until now, knew he had clung so desperately to the Creed because he wanted so much to believe in the manda, believe it was real, believe that when this train wreck he called a life finally killed him, he would join the oversoul and meet Alaria there if she’d beaten him to it, or he would wait for her arrival if he got there first. That if he just did what he was told, he would be reunited with the only part of his youth that had ever made any sense, who had ever shown him any kind of warmth, who had ever shown him any kind of love. He’d been too damaged at the time to entirely reciprocate her feelings for him, knowing they would be separated. He’d wanted to, had hoped that she knew he’d wanted to. But in the manda, he would be made whole again, and he could finally give her what she deserved.

He drew a fourth line through his skin.

Two more to go.

Now, he knew it was all bullshit. Rules to keep foundlings like him in line. Keep them isolated. The clans went through the motions of accepting the foundlings, picking and choosing the most resilient ones to adopt, went through the motions of providing counseling to the rest, just enough to keep them from murdering their peers or taking their own lives, not entirely successfully. Went through the motions of making the Fighting Corps sound like an honorable life. A warrior’s life. War was the Way of the galaxy; all the better to be prepared for it. All the better to devastate the families of others and create more foundlings to bring into the fold.

He dragged the knife through line number five.

If this was the Creed he’d sworn his soul to, he knew he was already dar’manda. His soul was already lost. No honor was to be found here. He had been raised by terrorists. He had become a terrorist. How many lives had died by his hand? He honestly had no idea. Hundreds, easily. Could he have killed a thousand? Fucked if he knew. How could anyone have a soul after that? How could anyone with a soul have done that to begin with? How could he justify that to any kind of afterlife gatekeeper?

Dar’manda. He was dar’manda to the bone, and no amount of redemption would ever be enough to bring it back. His death would bring the full and complete annihilation that he so richly deserved.

But he would send Vizla to his death, first. And anyone else who had been born to House Vizsla or Death Watch and benefited from the slavery they had wrought upon the foundlings.

He would avenge the foundlings.

He would avenge his parents.

He was already dar’manda. Already the murderer of so many.

What did a few more matter?

Line number six, the sting of it needling him all the way to his spine, and the full flood of endorphins finally hit him.

Nobody cares who your father was. Only the father you’ll be.

The old saying swam up through the whiskey and blood-induced opiates and into his mind, and it gave him pause as he sat there watching his leg bleed.

What did this mean for his armor? For the helmet? Was it necessary to continue with this charade of a Creed if his soul was already long gone? Did any of it matter anymore?

He still had his child to protect. The beskar belonged to Yadier. Din would wear it in service to his son for as long as his son needed it.

As for the helmet… the thought of showing his face turned his stomach, liquor aside. He deserved the cage he’d locked his face in. He deserved the shame he felt, the need to hide.

His son deserved a better father. Rayne deserved a better… whatever he was to her. He would deliver Yadier to his people and free him of his faceless caretaker. He would release Rayne back to her normal life. He would lay waste to whatever remained of Death Watch. And if he survived that, he would go back to reigning terror over the scum and villainy that stocked the bounty pucks of the Guild. And he would arrange for the beskar so that when he was finally dead, it would be sent to Yadier to forge as his own or chuck into the sea as he pleased.

---

Rayne returned, juggling Din’s cast-off weapons and vambraces, frowning as Yadier squirmed in Reesha’s hold, eyes already brimming with tears.

“He knows something’s up,” Reesha murmured, bouncing the baby as well as she could while Rayne handed the weapons over to Zavin for safe-keeping.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to shield him until Mando either passes out or falls asleep.” She gathered Yadier in her arms. “Can I steal the living room to meditate?”

“Of course,” Reesha led her over and helped Rayne get settled on the floor in the corner with a few cushions so she could sit cross-legged with the baby in her lap. “We’ll keep watch.”

Rayne met her gaze with gratitude. “Thank you.”

---

Yadier was scared.

No.

Yadier was terrified.

He had felt moments of anger radiate from his father before. Anger, sadness, hopelessness. None of these were strangers to him. The doses had usually been small, his father able to keep them in check at a tolerable level, even when he was unaware of his son’s ability to sense his every emotion.

But now…

Now his father raged.

Never before had his father been such a hurricane. Never before had the darkness gathered with such ominous intent. Never before had the air been so thick with static, so ready to ignite, so ready to unleash forces that would sweep in to consume and destroy everything in their path.

He saw the wave in his father rise, gather itself up and ready itself to break.

“Yadier.” His mother’s voice. In his ears and in his mind.

Steady. Calm. Warm. Embracing.

“Remember the lake, Yadier.” Her voice was a whisper. Soft and smooth. And he remembered the lake. The tidal forces of his father mutated to the small, breeze-driven ripples of the lake lapping at the beach. The sun was warm on his skin. The water was cool on his feet. The tadpoles darted away and he chased after them, splashing.

Rayne sat in the living room, wedged into the corner for the long haul, her mind divided into an inner and outer sphere. The inner sphere enveloped her son, transporting him back to just a few days ago, keeping his mind occupied with the joys of those moments, distracting him. The outer sphere absorbed the assault of his father as his wave crested and broke, storm-driven existential terror and rage and betrayal and annihilation.

Rayne existed somewhere in the layer between the two spheres, protecting her son from his father, monitoring his father, listening for when she might have to break off and protect him from himself.

She felt the sting of the blade through Din’s skin, a straight line just below his knee, felt it as if he was drawing the edge through her own, and she came to understand his old scars. He had done this before. So overwhelmed with the anguish in his head that he needed something else, some physical attack to draw his attention away from it. She was no stranger to the practice, the dark year after her husband’s death clouded with similar self-destruction, kept secret by her rare use of healing herself. She stayed put, recalling their first night close together, his reaction against her reflex to soothe the hurt of his mind. She would let him get as far as six lines, six to match the old set. If he started a seventh, or… something worse… she would have to break off protecting Yadier and put an end to it. Otherwise, she would allow him his grief. Allow his storm to rage until it blew itself out. And tomorrow she would return to him, gather up the pieces of whatever was left, and try to put him back together again.

---

Two hours later, Rayne opened her eyes to find Zavin in the couch on the other side of the room, reading, feet propped up on the cushions, long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked over at her when he realized she was present. “How’s it going out there?”

She sighed. “He finally passed out.”

---

Noon came and went before Rayne dared to go out to the Razor Crest.

She knew Din was more-or-less awake. Could feel the thick fog of his hangover. Could feel the exhaustion of a mind that had worked itself over, the ache of betrayal. The emptiness of loss. Over all of it hung the general sense of being spent. He had nothing left. He was done. He had surrendered.

Surrendered to what, she wasn’t sure.

The ship was still buttoned up, so she tapped her wristband to lower the portside ramp. By the time it was down, the murkiness of Din’s mind had subsided, likely a result of him putting the helmet back on. Regardless, she still paused before reaching the hatch. “You decent?”

“Yes.” His voice was thin, but came from the modulator, so she proceeded. The door to the bunk was open, an empty water bottle resting on the floor in front of it. She headed over and picked it up, turning to see him still in there on his side, helmet, shirt, and shorts in order, sheet and blanket tangled around his legs and arms. A bandage was wrapped around his right leg, just below his knee.

She went up to the galley, refilled the bottle, and came back down. He held his hand out for it when she reappeared in the opening, so she leaned in to hand it off, then headed back to the table at the end of the hold. She felt his misery as her own as he took the bucket off and drank the water. When the pain was muffled by the helmet once more, he slid the empty bottle back out into the hold with his foot.

It hit the floor, rolled half-way across the deck, then rolled back to rest once again at the bulkhead by the bunk.

She made a mental note to check the auto-levelers on the landing gear.

The whiskey bottle was still on the table. She gave it a few turns, trying to remember what level it was at when he’d brought it out last night. He couldn’t have put down more than eight shots. For a guy his size with his metabolism to be this wrecked the next day…

Though perhaps her own tolerance was a little too high for her own good to be a fair judge.

She got up and brought the chair over to the front of the bunk and sat before it, putting her feet up on the bunk itself, just able to see the helmet over her knees.

“I’m never drinking again.”

She allowed herself a laugh. “How many times have you said that?”

He held up a hand with four fingers extended, then dropped it back down.

“You can still count it on one hand. Not bad for someone your age.”

“We’re the same age.”

“I lost count four years ago.” She shrugged. “Done puking?”

“Think so. Yadier ok?”

“He was a little fussy this morning, but he’s fine.”

“Did he… get anything last night?”

“I handled it.”

She was quiet as he let out a sigh and drifted off again, lost in the haze of not-sleep. She tried to piece together the scraps of thought that came off of him, tried to piece together what to say, tried to figure out how to salvage the wreckage.

After several minutes, he asked, “Did you know?”

She breathed a long sigh. “I knew about the general tactic. Had my suspicions about your situation.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Remember that conversation we had about cognitive dissonance?” Sitting out in the yard at her hangar one night, by the fire. About a month ago. It felt like years.

A long pause ensued before he answered. “That was you telling me.”

“Yeah.”

“You were right.”

“Yeah.”

“I made a horrible mistake.”

“You were brainwashed and pushed into it when you were twelve.”

“I don’t remember the part where making excuses resolves the issue.” Din’s petulant streak was rising to the surface, but she couldn’t find it in herself to blame him.

“So what now?” she asked instead. “Keep throwing good time after bad? Screw the whole thing and chuck the helmet? Something in the middle?”

“I can’t just throw it all away. If I’m not… if I’m not a Mandalorian…” His voice broke, and he had to stop for a moment. He took a long, shaky breath, then continued. “If I’m not a Mandalorian, then what am I?”

“Death Watch wasn’t the only Way. Can you be a different kind of Mandalorian? Go a different Way?”

He was quiet for almost a minute, lost in what it all meant. He had asked himself that very question two days ago, on their way here, wondering about the possibilities of combining the complementary strengths of Mandalorians and Jedi. He remembered backing off of it, remembering the oath he had sworn. “It’s more than that. It’s…” Another pause. “Do you… believe in souls?”

Ah yes. Break the Creed, get denied entry to the manda. “My experience with most religions is that they use the idea of a soul just to hold it hostage to make people behave a certain way. Good Mandalorians get admission to the manda. Good Jedi get to come back as Force ghosts. That sound about right?”

“… So that’s a no.”

“Correct.”

“… So when you die…”

She turned her hand over, empty palm up. “Naas.” Nothing.

Another long pause before he continued. “You’re ok with that?” His voice betrayed a slight tremor.

“Yeah. No pain. No suffering. Just… done.” Her mind fell back to the year after Hayes died, her first year without her husband. How much she had wanted exactly that. To be done. To feel nothing.

Yeah, she was still ok with that.

Her mind turned over again, on to more pressing matters. Something that might give the broken warrior before her something to pull himself back together for.

“So I was thinking. About if we find Yadier’s people. I don’t know if you’re ready to hang up the nomadic lifestyle thing. But if you are. Maybe we wouldn’t have to leave him. Maybe we could stay with him. Keep him. See if we can… fit in.”

Din took a sharp breath, wondering how the option had never occurred to him. Then, reality closed in. “They wouldn’t accept a Mandalorian.”

“They accepted you on Sorgan.”

“They hired me on Sorgan. I’d be an intruder to Yadier’s people.”

“You’d be bringing one of their lost children home. That’s gotta count for something.”

He gave a semblance of a shrug. Maybe. “What about you? Leave your shop?”

“I can start another. Leave the old one to my niece. It’s not like I’m leaving anyone behind back there.” Rayne paused, letting that all sink in, belatedly realizing what she was offering. A path forward to a permanent family. One that maybe she wouldn’t have to give up.

If it sounds too good to be true…

“We have to deal with Gideon first, though,” she said, almost as if to remind herself. “Those fob scramblers won’t last forever, and you two stand out in a crowd. Last thing we want to do is lead him to a world full of Force-sensitives.”

“Agreed.”

Din closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. He had not forgotten the resolutions he had made to himself the night before, as booze-soaked as they were. He was still dar’manda. Not that Rayne cared, apparently. She might have more reservations about burning Death Watch to the ground. Or, given their record, maybe not. She was right about Gideon, though. They had to take him out.

So. Take out an Imperial remnant. Find their son’s people. Find and destroy a Mandalorian terrorist group.

Big agenda for a man without a soul.

Rayne brought her feet to the deck and leaned forward in the chair. “Wanna come back inside? Get cleaned up? Get back into that glorious bed?”

On the one hand, it sounded nice. On the other…

He needed the tight space of the bunk. The bulkheads that guarded him so closely. The feeling of safety provided by hard, unyielding walls. His memory of the bunker flashed through his mind once more, cowering on the floor as his father closed the cover…

Rayne let out a sharp exhale, her eyes pinned to the visor. “Din…” Her voice rasped over his name.

“You saw that?”

She lowered her gaze. “Yeah. You kinda threw it at me.”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath, eyes tracing the entrance to the bunk. “It explains a few things.” What was claustrophobic to her was comforting to him. What threatened to trap her offered protection to him. He liked it in there.

The little boy hiding in a concrete hole had grown into a man seeking refuge in a metal box.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His chest tightened. He knew she didn’t like it in here. He knew what he must look like, right now. He didn’t deserve her offer. “I’m kinda gross right now.”

She shrugged. “I’ve passed out covered in your blood. This is pretty tame, in comparison.” She paused. “But… if you want to be alone…”

“No. I don’t.” The words spilled out faster than he would’ve liked, but there they were.

“Okay.” She pulled her boots off, and he made room for her as she crawled in behind him, laid herself along his back, and draped an arm over him.

He was kinda gross. Usually, if he smelled like anything, he smelled like leather, wool, and steel. Right now, he was a mix of boozy sweat, leather, beskar, and bacta. Toothpaste lingered as well, having at least done a thorough job of eliminating the side effects of emptying his stomach.

But it beat passing out in an enormous puddle of his blood. So. Progress.

He threaded his fingers through hers and tucked their hands under the chin of the helmet. “Thank you,” he whispered. I don’t deserve you.

She pressed her forehead to his spine through his shirt, between his shoulder blades, feeling the gentleness in the hold he had on her hand.

That part of him had still survived, then.

“You’re welcome.” Doesn’t matter. I’m here anyway.

---

Note: I wrote this back before Paz's name misspelling got corrected. :)

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[theseventhoffrostfall]

Games Workshop turns to you and says they fucked up doing all the banning and removing of content and now fans are leaving. They want to turn it around. And to do that, you have been given a free pass to make up to five novels on anything you want so long as they are W40k setting. What, if any, ideas do you go with?

Honestly, there's like a bunch of stuff I'd do before just churning out novels if I was tasked with getting things on track. Like, gather up the writers and come to some kind of consensus on what the actual universe is like. We can't even get accurate assessments on if imperial spaceships are typical sci-fi size of 700-800 meters on average or regularly a few miles long, let alone any idea on if life in the imperium trends towards a comfortable simulacrum of modern life, a Judge Dredd crack nightmare, or a strange, morbid near-nihilistic fascination with martyrdom and death that renders them more alien than some of the aliens in the setting. We don't even have to settle on the things I think are coolest and most appropriate, just some kind of fucking consensus so there can be any kind of consistency, because people's patience for giving 40k a pass on a standard every other franchise is held to is wearing thin

That said, if you held a gun to my head and said "give me novel ideas to entice the fan base with something crowd-pleasing but fresh", I'd spitball:

1.) An Arbiter working his beat (an industrial-hive world with the hives arising from a vast and stormy ocean. Intense electrical storms can last months, severely hampering communication and periodically isolating individual hives. Focus on him investigating weird mutants, rogue psykers, rebels, maybe the occasional cult (chaos or not) or genestealers. Bonus points, since Arbiters are not conventional law enforcement and have little interest in common criminals, you get to give him a complex relationship of periodically cooperating with colorful local gangs

2.) A unit of Tempestus Scions on various missions. Travelling the universe, doing operator shit, getting to apply cunning solutions against worthy, high-value foes. Prevents absurd scale creep, since our boys are using hellguns and armored trucks; they aren't ringing up a tank battalion or dropping a titan on someone. Consider it a fun writing challenge to have squad bants and humor despite stormtroopers being brainwashed fanatics

3.) The adventures of an Eldar Corsair crew wedged between a Tau sphere of expansion and a Rogue Trader's nascent empire. Explore both factions through an outsider's perspective, and you get a bit more levity and dark humor, despite examining the Eldar's weird psychology, because Corsairs are among the tiny minority who are just in it for the fun and money rather than fervently serving some holy purpose or another.

4.) The escaped remnants of a genestealer cult find themselves with genuine freedom after the Hive Fleet they were summoning was crushed by the Imperial Navy. Now they've gotta survive, continue to improve their "superhuman" genome, and hopefully save their cousins from the maws of the "False Gods"

5.) A mastermind Inquisitor heads a cabal of his fellows, fighting a shadow-war for control of a whole subsector against the schemes and raids of a cunning Alpha Legion warband. Despite being a dyed-in-the-wool fanatic as any good inquisitor is, he can't help but raise a glass and toast the cleverness of the magnificent bastards out there spinning their webs

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 6

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 6: Farewell Gifts

< | Previous Chapter

The morning sun had begun filling your room, sneaking through parted curtains to cover everything in a warm glow. You had been reluctant to stir, a sense of melancholy hanging around you. You knew exactly why that was. You would be leaving tomorrow morning. There was good and bad to it, you supposed. You were introduced to a taste of freedom and new possibilities that came with this marriage. Yet it still meant saying goodbye to everything you knew here.

You slowly turned over in your bed, moving out of it. Might as well start the day, though. Moping wouldn’t get too much accomplished. You padded over towards the window, peering out of it for a few moments. The sun covered the land beyond the castle in a pleasant glow. Nature carried on like nothing was going to happen, and you couldn’t help but huff. You needed to as well. Even as you looked to the horizon, wondering what it held for you. Hopefully a decent life.

You hardly thought too much as you grabbed a dress, sliding it over your body. You didn’t even know what today held for you, either. You would find out after breakfast, though. That’s usually how things went for you. Taking each day as it came. You slid on your shoes, fastening them tightly. Take today one step at a time. Tomorrow would come when it came. 

The door to your room creaked quietly as you opened it, being careful to shut it softly. It clicked as it slid into pace, and you rubbed your face. Food would undoubtedly help you get in a better mood. Having your mind busy while you were on an empty stomach was hardly a good idea.

“Good, you’re awake. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” A voice called out. You jumped, a startled yelp escaping your lips. You covered your mouth as you sought out the voice, glaring at the owner. Dream was lounging against a wall across from you, and you reached out to shove at him playfully.

“Are you trying to make my soul leave my body?!” A laugh escaped him, though it felt almost tense. Was he still bothered by dinner last night? You didn’t care to mess with it, though. He’d likely get over himself. He usually did.

“Maybe I am. Do I get to keep you here if I do?” He mused as they walked, heading towards the dining hall once again. Like it was a normal morning. You truly wished it was, honestly. Nonetheless, you sighed, head shaking.

“You know I can’t stay, Dream. As much as you want me to. This is a matter bigger than you or I. Besides! I think it’ll be good for me, don’t you think?” You beamed over at him. It seemed like it would do you good, truthfully. It was presenting you with at least one option you had never been offered here: Training. The opportunity to fight and defend yourself. You deserved that much at least, right?

“I think it’ll be dangerous. They’ve never had a good reputation, how do I know you’ll be safe?” He threw back in rebuttal, making you sigh heavily. Always fretted over your wellbeing.

“Techno said it’s not that bad, I have no reason to not believe him.” You settled into your normal spot at the table. Breakfast was much simpler than dinner. The food was already set out, waiting to be eaten. You didn’t waste time, reaching for a few various dishes to eat.

“I beg to differ,” Dream murmured as he also sat, grabbing stuff to eat as well. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for whatever was with him. He just didn’t like Techno, for whatever reason. Always so protective of you. Though it was reassuring in a weird way.

“Whatever you say. What have you got planned for me today?” You queried instead, eager to change the subject away from your fiancé. You really didn’t want to deal with whatever problem there was with that subject.

“Going out to the markets in town. Make sure there isn’t anything that you need before leaving. Let the people in the capital see you one last time. It’ll probably eat most of your day, though,” He said. That was fine. It sounded like a good plan. You could do with a few things from the market. A few things to remind you of home.

You nodded for a couple of heartbeats, finishing the mouthful of food in your mouth before speaking. “That sounds fine to me. I wouldn’t mind picking up a couple of things to bring along. Oh! Techno! Good morning.” The pink-haired prince had walked into the dining hall when you were speaking to Dream. He settled across from you, glancing briefly to Dream before you.

“Good morning,” he finally returned, causing you to smile. Dream practically brooded beside you as your attention shifted away from him. You just elected to ignore it for the time being. He’d probably be just fine once the both of you were in the market. You were allowed to exchange some words with Techno before heading out for the day, at least.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, reaching for your cup with a contented hum. He nodded in response, gaze moving to Dream. You warily eyed the pair of them, trying to read whatever silent stand off they seemed to be having. Was it over the whole training thing? Either way, it was ridiculous and you did not want to deal with whatever tension was between them.

Clearing your throat, you attempted conversation once more with a soft, “Did you finish your books?” Techno’s gaze quickly pivoted back to you, seeming to forget about Dream for a few minutes. Good. 

“Most of them. I couldn’t finish the last one before I needed to sleep,” He replied. You nodded in acknowledgment. That was impressive, though. It did make you wonder how much he slept. Not like you could tell. Not with that mask on his face.

“Well, you can finish that one today. Dream and I are going out to the market to pick up some things before I leave. I’ll probably spend time with my family after dinner,” You explained. You wiped at your hands, turning to look at Dream and offering him a smile. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk starting tomorrow,” Techno mused. There was something almost smug in his voice, and you could hear Dream huff beside you. What the hell had happened with them? You weren’t given much time to ponder, as Dream stood up and held a hand towards you.

“Ready?” He asked, and you nodded slightly. You eyed his hand for a few moments, debating on if you should take it. You ultimately did, allowing him to pull you up. You waved towards Techno, offering him a smile. Even as you were nearly hauled away by Dream, you could hear that huff of his that signified laughter. He met your wave with a shake of his head, returning the action all the same.

You were content, despite how quickly Dream was walking. The interactions with Techno were pleasant, and increasingly less awkward. You caught up with Dream, letting go of his hand as you did. “Alright, do you have any specific plans on where to visit?” You questioned, forcing him to slow down.

“Not exactly. I figure we can just walk through the market, see what catches your eye,” He mumbled. You nodded along, finding it fair enough. You didn’t entirely know what you were looking for. So, for that reason, browsing around didn't seem too bad of an idea.

The walk wasn't too long. Slowly the calm path towards the castle morphed into busy streets, teeming with life. The heart of the capital was alive with noise, vendors in their stalls calling to people in the streets. The smell of various foods wafted in the air around you as you walked, a certain type of happiness settling in your chest. It was easy to forget the melancholy that hung around the castle while you were here.

It wasn't too long of wandering before you were noticed. Vendors would excitedly call to you, trying to get you to buy some of their wares. You did always look, complimenting whatever they were selling half the time. From one stand, you purchased a trinket box, the metal heavy in your hands. The sun caught onto the ornate lid, causing the jewels set into it to sparkle. The sides were less flashy, but still well made, with roses carved into the side. It spoke to you, practically, reminding you warmly of the kingdom you were going to leave.

As you continued your trek, an older voice called to you with urgency, a soft, "Princess! Come, come!" An older man beckoned to you, age wearing down his face and hands. You didn't even need to think twice, walking towards him with Dream in tow. The man behind you was busying himself with a stuffed bun he had bought, seemingly content to just follow you. The old man smiled as you walked over, looking down to his wares.

Knives and daggers covered the majority of the surface, though there was an occasional sword or bundle of arrows. The handles had intricate designs carved into the leather, though the blades were no less sharp or decorated. "I hear you're going on a dangerous journey soon," The man's voice interrupted you. You moved your attention to his face, meeting his gaze calmly.

"It's really not as dangerous as everyone is making it seem," You explained, offering a smile. The man just laughed, shaking his head at you.

"Off, alone, with a man too afraid to show his face and hides behind the face of a beast. If he is comfortable wearing the face of a beast, surely he is one himself." There was an edge to his voice and you could only sigh. Gossip from servants traveled fast, and it seemed stories of Techno's appearance had already reached the capital. You didn't care too much, though his words were minutely unsettling.

"You need to protect yourself from him. I have the perfect thing for you- free of charge. We can't have you getting hurt in enemy territory." He explained, rustling around to pick up one of the daggers. You were tempted to protest the price, surely not wanting to take from him. It wasn't right. Even if he did offer. Yet you could tell he wouldn't accept a single coin you gave him.

He presented the dagger to you for inspection, which you did humor. It was a pretty dagger, a dark leather grip with flowers sitting amongst vines of thorns. The cross guard was simple, curved, with a flower sitting in the middle of either side. The pommel similarly matched, while the thorned vines crawled down onto the design in the metal. It felt perfect in your hands, and you could have sworn the man had made it just for you.

You looked up to him, his dark eyes twinkling with something you couldn't place. "It's beautiful, thank you," You murmured your thanks. Any thought of rejecting it had left you the moment the leather fell to your hand. He seemed delighted by this, reaching to take it back to put it in a sheath. The sheath was put into a belt before being handed off to you.

"Keep yourself safe, little one," he told you. You nodded, fingers running along the leathed of the belt. You didn't really wear belts, so it felt almost foreign in your grip.

"Here," Dream interrupted, picking up the belt. He didn't waste time in fastening it around your waist, the dagger comfortably sitting against your hip. It was positioned so that your dominant hand could grab the dagger easily, should you need it.

"I thought you didn't want me to have weapons," You grumbled. Dream was silent as he resumed his earlier position, walking with you once more. With each step, the dagger hit your hip. It was a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one. 

"I don't, but I don't trust Technoblade. A dagger is straightforward enough to use. Even you can't fuck it up." He sounded bitter at the mention of Techno, but seemed to divert it to light hearted teasing. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe I'll try it on you first." You shoved him with your shoulder, unable to hide your laugh at his affronted gasp.

"You wouldn’t!" His exclamation was followed by a laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the things you would miss.

The sun climbed even higher into the sky as the pair of you walked, with you buying a few trinkets. You bought a few pieces of jewelry from various vendors, too fond of their work to part with it. Who knew when you would be given the chance to visit this market again. You and Dream had stopped by a small bakery to eat lunch, listening to the tales around you and watching the streets.

It was only when the sun was falling, and the daytime vendors began to pack up, that you started your way back. Dinner time would be soon. As the streets emptied, the activity dwindling down, you felt the melancholy creep back over you once more.

"I got you something," Dream finally interrupted, causing you to look up at him. Your eyebrows knitted for a moment, trying to remember when he had snuck off to get it. Or maybe he had brought it with him.

"You did?" You asked, pausing in the street.

"I got it earlier this week, but today seemed a good time to give it to you," He explained, rustling around for a few moments. He grasped a small bag, pulling it out and untying it. He didn't look directly at you as he pulled out the piece inside, instead focused solely on it.

It was a necklace- a very extravagant one at that. You don't think you'd ever had one like it. Multiple strands of beads connected three large jewels together, with charms comprised of smaller jewels in the shape of roses dangling from it intermittently. The light caught the yellow jewels, though red tinged the outside of them. It was always roses, wasn't it? It always had been.

In the very middle sat a metal plate, carved with the image of a picked rose with its thorns clipped. It was pretty. You couldn’t even imagine how much it cost. "Thank you, Dream. You didn’t have to get me something like this," You had started. He huffed in response, moving behind you to drape it around your neck.

"I know, but I wanted to. I hope whenever you wear it you think of me," he mumbled as he fastened it, the comfortable weight settling against your neck. You touched it, smiling softly.

"I will, Dream. Don't make me cry, though. There's too much left to do today." You knew you would be a mess by the end of the night. After all, this was your family you were leaving. It was going to sting just a little.

The walk back to the castle was relatively silent. Dream was thinking about something, but you didn't press. You weren't sure you could handle it right now. Once you had returned and eaten dinner, it was time to spend time with your family. Which, truthfully, you were glad to. Dream didn't protest on going home, though he did send a final accusatory glance at Techno as he left.

The prince didn't linger after dinner, simply bidding you a good night as he went to retire to his own rooms. You were fine with that, though. It let you put your whole concentration on your family as the four of you sat in one of the rooms. You all spoke fondly of everything you could think of. All of you were almost reluctant to say goodnight.

"I can't believe my baby is leaving tomorrow," Your mom finally broached the topic. You offered a sad smile, moving to hug her.

"I'll always write to you," you whispered, face nestled into her neck. She didn't say anything for a long while, just holding you there. You didn't complain, letting her do so. As she pulled back after she seemed ready, she reached for the blanket that had been sat in her lap.

"This was my great grandmother's, and has been passed down to the eldest daughter of everyone in our family. It's your turn to take it," She murmured, handing it to you. The weave was heavy, the red fabric carefully twined with golden accents. You could tell it was old, but you were extremely glad to have it.

"Thank you, I'll cherish it. Should I have any daughters, I'll give it to them as well." It was unknown if you would have children. It depended on how the marriage required itself to be upheld. Your gaze turned to your dad next.

"You always were getting into trouble and going on adventures. Don't get into too much trouble over there, okay?" He murmured affectionately, offering you a hug. This one wasn't nearly as long as your mother's, but that was fine. He wasn't as attached as your mother, nor as affectionate, so the hug meant the world to you.

You had nodded, not trusting your words right now. This was the worst part. Leaving. The goodbyes. Even harder was turning to George, who stared at you with an almost sad smile. "I'm going to miss you. Who else am I going to walk through the gardens with now?" He asked, causing you to give a watery laugh. You imagined he would make do.

"You always did love the gardens, so here's a piece of home. Only some light reading." He extended a hand, holding a thick book out to you. The leather cover was embossed with various flowers, and you smiled. It was a flower guide. Flowers were important to your kingdom, and though you were fond of them you never bothered to learn them. Now it was time, you supposed.

"I'll miss you, George. Try not to have too much fun without me," Your voice cracked as you spoke. He nodded, arms curling tightly around you within seconds. You sniffled, hiding against his shoulder and clinging to him. His hugs were always the best, not having them readily available to you would hurt. You didn't like it.

"Just promise me you'll write and take care of yourself." You could only nod as his voice reverberated through you. You didn't want to let go, but the seconds bled into minutes and sleep was calling you. Even as reluctant as you were, you did let go.

"I'll write to everyone. As often as I can," You said. You choked a little, refusing to say goodbye. Even as you walked with George to your room, you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Next Chapter | >

[katzkinder]

(multiple linked image references throughout this post)

Ok, so I loved this post

The part that got me though was when you said “I wonder what type of animal form they take factors into that” - that’s where the gears in my head started turnin’

So I went snooping on each animal counterpart associated with each sin.

1.) SLOTH: are cats sensitive to cold?

So Kuro isn’t JUST a neet that prefers blankets or a kotatsu over the cold… his animal form being a cat does play some part… key word beings some

“Cats are pretty well adapted for cold weather, but when the temperature dips below freezing they are susceptible to hypothermia and frostbite. During periods of cold weather, cats will go looking for a warm place to hunker down. How cold is too cold for indoor cats? Cats prefer warmth but will be okay in rooms hovering between 50-60°F degrees; while their counterparts Lions, in a zoo environment, stay outside in the winter unless the temperature dips below 40°F (in the wild, most lions don’t have to worry about temperatures dropping below 65°F so in most cases 40°F and below is too cold).”

SLOTH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

2.) PRIDE: are bats sensitive to cold?

“Bats can't survive freezing temperatures, even when they're hibernating. Any roost bats shelter in for the winter must be at least 45°F or warmer. They also seek out dark, secluded, and sheltered places that can keep them safe from predators. Bats are defenseless while they're hibernating.”

PRIDE SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

3.) ENVY: are snakes sensitive to cold?

Jeje being a snake is pretty much a given… but it’d be mean to not include him (so no funny ideas outta you, ok Mikuni?)

“What is the coldest temperature a snake can withstand? Snakes usually stay out of cold climates. Because the coldest temperature any snake can thrive in is around 65°F, snakes normally live in the warmer temperate or tropical zones. Below 60°F, snakes become sluggish. Above 95°F, snakes become overheated.”

ENVY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

4.) WRATH: are wolves sensitive to cold?

“Wolves don't need to do anything. They're much better adapted to cold weather than we are. Thanks to their winter adaptations, wolves can live in temperatures as low as -40°F. During the coldest nights, a wolf will curl itself into a ball, covering its nose with its tail, which will hold the exhaled warm air over its feet and nose, conserving precious body heat. It will also sleep close to its pack-mates(her Eve) in a unified effort to stay warm.”

WRATH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾ (neutral-ish)

5.) GREED: are hedgehogs sensitive to cold?

“Hedgehogs getting cold is a BIG ‘No no’. It slows their metabolism down, leaving them susceptible to infections, dehydration and starvation. It's important to keep your hedgehog in an environment between 72-80°F. Even if it’s not always comfortable for us humans (comfortable for angels? no clue), temperatures lower than 70°F are considered ‘cold’ for hedgehogs and can result in a hibernation attempt, which can be fatal.”

Maybe that’s why Lawless always wears that scarf? Since hedgehogs are severely thermally sensitive then it would make sense…

(Crantz, Gil… please stop the angel from getting any ideas)

GREED SENSITIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

6.) GLUTTONY: are pigs sensitive to cold?

In this case I will refer mostly to Vietnamese Potbellied Pigs because as far as I know, we haven’t actually seen Ildio’s pig form yet - one of the only depictions is Lawless’ stage depictions of the 7 vampire siblings in ep6… and based on his stage depiction of Ildio’s pig form, Viatnamese Vietnamese Miniature Potbellied Pigs seem like they’d be the common type of pig that seems to fit that shape/size.

“The ideal temperature range for a potbelly pig is 65-88°F. Pigs in winter do not need any type of supplemental heat down to at least -20°F. Most potbelly pigs require more feed to maintain heat production and body condition; meaning that housing aside, the more feed/calorie intake, the easier it can be for pigs to regulate their body heat.”

However, seeing as Ildio is an ageless vampire with the mother-effing holy grail of metabolisms, we don’t know if his MASSIVE calorie intake, that he doesn’t really gain much/any weight from, will actually help him in cold weather.

GLUTTONY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔(neutral/unknown where they stand exactly)

7.) LUST: are butterflies sensitive to cold?

Snow Lily’s butterfly appearance is probably one of the most exaggerated of the 8 servamp animal forms. That gorgeous shade of pink and black aside, I couldn’t find any real buttwrfly species with that wing pattern or wings shaped like that. So color and wing pattern aside, I’d say the closest real-world butterfly to Snow Lily would be a variation of Swallowtail Butterfly.

Butterflies are cold-blooded critters, however, generally speaking butterflies won't fly when temperatures are less than 55-60°F.

LUST SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

8.) MELANCHOLY: are foxes sensitive to cold?

Even though Tsubaki’s two tails seem to be a play of of the legends of Nine Tail Fox, generally speaking based off his other details being black fox with white on the end of his tail(s), he is most likely a Silver Fox; which is a type of Red Fox.

The upper critical temperature of the red fox is probably between 86-89°F. An official temperature range of what is too cold for red foxes is more or less unknown or unofficial at best. The arctic fox is said to be able to tolerate temperatures as low as -72°F but red foxes haven’t occupied the tundra in the past partly because it was too cold; with their longer ears and limbs, they lose heat faster than their arctic cousins. So we know the average red fox can tolerate and survive cold temperatures, but most likely not temperatures like their arctic counterparts live in.

MELANCHOLY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔❌ (neutral/unknown where they stand exactly/least affected of the bunch)

and after ALL OF THAT…

the most interesting thing is–

when I first got into SERVAMP, I remember being curious where the concept of ‘the different sins transforming into animal forms’ came from. After a little research, I found that there is a history to it! A very detailed account of the origins and representations of them within history. And a small portion discusses the animal depictions of the original 7 deadly sins⬇️

“An allegorical image depicting the human heart subject to the seven deadly sins, each represented by an animal (clockwise: Toad = Avarice [greed]; Snake = Envy; Lion = Wrath; Snail = Sloth; Pig = Gluttony; Goat = Lust why? I have no idea; Peacock = Pride).”

So Jeje and Ildio’s animal forms are the only ones true to the original depictions of their associated sins.

Pride as a peacock does make sense… but I can understand adding the bat into the mix because - vampires.

I get why they’d change Kuro to a cat instead of a snail because I can’t see a snail being threatening at all unless it’s either severely poisonous or Gary… like, supernatural vampire powers or not, Kuro as a snail wouldn’t be very badass.

Why the ever living f*ck would a goat reprint lust? Originally I was going with the possibility that goat could be related to ram, ram represents Aries, Aries is one of the most lustful zodiac personalities… but no, apparently the goat represents the Devil, lust, lubricity and the damned… so that’s fun - I prefer the butterfly thank you very much.

Apparently frogs symbolize greed because it is a greedy creature in desiring to live in both worlds- on the land & in the water… okay I guess?

& lastly even though the Lion role is also occupied by Kuro within the series, I can understand Wrath not maintaining the original Lion role swing as Wrath is female and they probably wanted a male to hold the depiction of Lion so that the could use the lion’s mane, again, to add to the badass factor… regardless I don’t think Wrath as a lioness would have played out the same way… is it sexist when referring to animals? Whatever - that’s a question for another day.

If you’re interested, the full article can be found here

I am so sorry this random rant turned out WAAAAAAAY longer than I originally intended… I always love your analysis and theory posts so I hope you enjoy :)

YOOO ANON, THAT’S AWESOME! I’ll definitely check that article out!

In return, have this!

We know what piggy ‘dio looks like now! :D

Hopefully this will make your research a little easier?

[sternbilder]

Gyu-hyuk's Epilogue 3 (Re-translated)

#Buried Stars spoilers

OMG okay, I feel like I need to expand on this, because YES, it does;

So the line you're referring to is the one where Gyu-hyuk tells Do-yoon, "딛고 일어서," which, to break it down: 딛다 means to overcome or get over something, and 일어서다 means to stand up. Grammatically speaking, this is in the imperative mood, so in a very literal sense, "get over it" is...technically...an accurate translation.

However.

In the context of the scene, I think this is misleading. In the official translation, Gyu-hyuk sounds weirdly cold and dismissive, but imo he doesn't actually come off that way in the original text? I read the "Get over it" line as more like...Encouraging? Motivational? Than dismissive, personally. It's clear to me that he's comforting Do-yoon, and I was honestly surprised at the tone whiplash in the translation.

Don't get me wrong, this scene is unsettling. It feels "off" somehow. But it's not because Gyu-hyuk is being dismissive of Do-yoon's feelings when Do-yoon is clearly still incredibly traumatized, but rather:

Because Gyu-hyuk himself seems relatively unfazed, in stark contrast to Do-yoon (Not to mention the strong Dutch angle on that CG. Come On. It just adds to the subtle creepiness of Gyu-hyuk's weirdly serene smile?)

Because one of Gyu-hyuk's biggest flaws is his tendency toward codependency, and of course

Because Gyu-hyuk is the one responsible for the murders, which is like. A pretty big part of Do-yoon's trauma.

At the time that you get this epilogue for the first time, it's likely that you haven't actually seen the true ending yet. So unless you know what happens, it's easy to chalk (1) up to Gyu-hyuk's personality—or at least, the calm and level-headed front that he puts up. You have enough evidence to arrive at (2) by this point, but it's not until you learn (3), which obviously isn't revealed until the true ending, that you realize what a deeply broken person Gyu-hyuk really is.

Without some of this background, the scene honestly reads as, idk, a bit uncomfortably codependent maybe but also...Very Heavily Romantic, in a fucked up, vaguely problematic and unhealthy way? Incidentally, I was looking up a Korean let's play of this scene on Youtube so that I could transcribe it and the streamer I was watching also was straight up like, "Why does it feel like he's flirting with me" and "Oh this feels like a romance" so I know I'm not the only one thinking this LMAO.

TL;DR This epilogue doesn't feel "wrong" because Gyu-hyuk is being insensitive and selfish, but rather the opposite—if anything, his tone is excessively warm and sweet, almost bordering on smothering.

Anyway, because I really, really hate how this scene was translated, I'm going to take a crack at a fan translation that (hopefully) captures the effect of the original text a bit better? I've highlighted the lines that I think have the greatest diff:

Original Text

GH: 또 심각한 얼굴이네. 무슨 생각을 그렇게 해?

DY: 그냥 뭐… 이것저것. 형은 아직 여유가 좀 있나 봐? 맨날 문병 오는 거 보면.

GH: 여유 있긴, 너 보러 시간을 빼는 거지. ...오늘은 좀 어때?

한도윤은 창틀을 매만졌다.

DY: 복잡해. 사람들이… 그렇게 됐으니까.

GH: … 지금은, 너만 생각해.

어깨를 토닥이는 손길에 저도 모르게 움츠렸다.

GH: 아, 미안…

DY: 아냐. 내가 아직… 다 낫질 않아서.

GH: 얼마나 걸리든 푹 쉬어, 다 나을 때까지. 복잡한 머리도 풀릴 때까지. 내가 있잖아.

이규혁의 말에 고개를 들었다. 따스한 눈길이 한도윤을 바로 본다.

GH: 너, 나… 우리 두 사람은 살아남았어. 힘들면 기대. 내가… 언제든지 곁에 있을테니까. 도윤이 네가 구해준 덕분에 난 여기 있어. 언제까지라도 널 배신하지 않을 거야.

눈앞이 흐릿해지더니, 볼에 뜨거운 무언가가 흘러내렸다. 눈꺼풀 밑으로 스러져간 얼굴들이 아른거렸다.

GH: 괜찮아.

이규혁의 손이 다시 한번 어깨를 토닥였다.

GH: 서로 의지하면서 살아가자.

고개 숙인 한도윤이 이규혁의 팔을 붙잡았다. 바람이 흔들리는 창문 소리가 적막한 병실을 울렸다.

GH: 도윤아, 딛고 일어서. 내가 곁에 있을 거야.

다정한 목소리가 멀게만 들렸다.

Official Translation

GH: You look somber again. What’s on your mind this time?

DY: Just a few things… Aren’t you supposed to be busy? You visit me every day.

GH: Busy, but I always have time to drop by to see you. How are you feeling today?

Do-yoon touched the windowsill with his hand.

DY: Complicated, considering what happened to them…

GH: Focus on yourself for now.

He fidgeted as Gyu-hyuk patted him on the shoulder.

GH: I’m sorry…

DY: No, it’s just that… I’m still recovering.

GH: Just take as much time as you want until you’re fully recovered. And I hope you can stop worrying so much, too. I’ll stand by your side.

Do-yoon raised his head to listen to Gyu-hyuk. He was staring at Do-yoon with an affectionate eye.

GH: You and me, we’ve survived. Lean on me when things are rough. I’ll always be there for you… I’m standing here because you saved me. I’ll never betray you.

Do-yoon’s eyes blurred, and tears rolled down his cheeks. The faces of their departed friends glimmered under his eyes.

GH: I’m okay.

Gyu-hyuk patted Do-yoon on the shoulder again.

GH: We’ll watch each other’s backs.

Do-yoon lowered his head and grabbed Gyu-hyuk’s arm. The sound of the rattling window hit the walls of the still hospital room.

GH: Do-yoon, get over it. You have me.

His kind voice seemed so distant.

My Translation

GH: You have that somber look on your face again. What’s on your mind?

DY: Oh, you know… This and that. I guess your schedule must be pretty free still? You’ve been visiting me every day.

GH: I wish. I’m actually making time to come see you. How are you feeling today?

Do-yoon adjusted the windowsill a bit.

DY: It’s complicated. You know… considering what happened to them.

GH: …You should try to worry about yourself for now.

Do-yoon couldn’t help but flinch reflexively as Gyu-hyuk touched his shoulder.

GH: Oh, sorry…

DY: No, it’s OK. It’s… just that my injuries are still healing.

GH: Take as much time as you need and rest until you’re fully recovered. And until your anxieties quiet down a bit, too. You know I’m here for you.

Do-yoon lifted his head as he said this. Gyu-hyuk was watching him with his warm gaze.

GH: You and I… We’re survivors. Lean on me when things are tough. Because I’ll… always be by your side. The only reason I’m here today is because you saved me, Do-yoon. I’ll never betray you, no matter what.

Do-yoon’s vision blurred, and hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. The faces of the deceased wavered beneath his closed eyelids.

GH: It’s all right.

Gyu-hyuk patted him on his shoulder once again.

GH: We’ll have each other to depend on from now on.

Do-yoon lowered his head and grasped Gyu-hyuk’s arm. The sound of the wind rattling the windowpane echoed throughout the quiet hospital room.

GH: Do-yoon, you'll overcome this. I’ll be right here beside you.

His voice was kind, but it somehow sounded distant.

[kojinnie]

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”

[xtoothless]

One Match

This is my first TommyInnit / Reader one-shot. Second POV and you play Cake-Wars with Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur. 

Pairing: You/Tommy

Word Count: 3,707

Summary: You play some Cake-Wars with a couple of your comfort streamers :)

Ao3 Link

---

[TommyInnit is Live]

You clicked on the notification from Twitch so fast you thought you broke your mouse. It was 4 pm in your hometown of Elkhart (1), Wisconsin. School had ended a few weeks before for the kids, including for you; your Junior year. You were to be a Senior next year, your last year of high school. Most everyone was outside enjoying the weather of mid-June, the warm sun lighting the fields where kids played and adults watched or played along. It seemed like everyone was outside enjoying the sun. Except you.

You were in your room, watching a live video from one of your comfort streamers; TommyInnit. The 17-year-old British blonde from the UK. Like most, you never had any bad days when you watched his streams. Whenever you did have a bad day, it seemed like one of your comfort streamers knew and hit that "Go live" button. 

Tommy was playing Minecraft with a couple of his friends - a couple of your comfort streamers - WilburSoot and Tubbo. They had just started a new survival world, to see who could speed run the quickest. 

The chat on the side of the screen exploded with their answers. A lot said Tommy, others said Tubbo, and a fair amount said, Wilbur. You thought they were all very good at the game but considered it was down to either Wilbur or Tommy. Wilbur was the calmest about it, being quick but also taking his time. Tommy was a ball of chaotic fury; trying to be quick but stressing about beating the game.

"Wha- How the fok does Will already have diamonds?" Tommy screamed, trying to get his character to mine the iron in front of him. You smiled at the screen as he joined Wilbur's voice channel to yell at him.

"Well, Tommy. You just- you just gotta get good at the game." Wilbur's voice said through Discord. 

Tommy leaned back, his mic quieting the sound of him groaning in annoyance, "Ughh, fok off, you little- you know what?". He left Wilbur's voice channel and went to Tubbo's. 

"Tommy?" Tubbo's small voice echoed through the channel.

"I say we team up against Will." Tommy started, making his character jump out of the cave and mine more spruce wood from the mountain he was on, "Look- he's already got diamonds m'kay, let's work together." 

It took a second to hear Tubbo's reply. "...okay?"

"Great. Do you have any iron?"

As they all continued to play, you left to use the bathroom and grab snacks. On your way down the stairs, you rubbed the warm back of your black and white kitten (2) that was sitting on the windowsill. Once out of the bathroom, you check the kitchen cupboards for any snacks.

You found a bag full of fruit candies, caramel suckers, and some off-brand chocolate bars. They were technically your fathers, but he wouldn't notice if some were gone. You grabbed a handful of each and a can of Coca-Cola that was in the fridge. You then ran back, your kitten following up the stairs. 

Once you were seated, you continued to watch the stream with your kitten purring in your lap. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo were all trying to fight blazes in the Nether. Tommy already had 4 blaze rods, while Tubbo had 1. 

"Tubbo, kill that blaze-" he then screamed in fright as his character caught on fire, "Foook! There's one behind. Dammit Tubbo." he then laughed as Tubbo also screamed in fright.

You laughed as you turned to your second monitor and loaded up Minecraft. Your computer loaded it up fairly quickly, given that you were also watching the stream that took a ton of internet to watch. Given that, you decide to play CakeWars. As you joined the round, you looked at the stream as all three made it to the end. 

They all teamed up and were trying to fight the endermen and the ender dragon. Your attention was on your own game that you didn’t realize they had killed the ender dragon and were now declaring victory. Tommy took all the credit as Wilbur laughed. Tubbo giggled and then hit Tommy’s in-game character with his own. 

With that, they decided to play servers. More specifically, the same server you were going to play CakeWars in next. You failed to notice when your screen flashed with the red lettering, “Your cake has been eaten.” 

"Dammit!"

Your teammates tried their hardest to stay alive, but unfortunately, the Yellow team was stronger with their armor and weapons. As you tried to run away, one threw an ender pearl and teleported in front of you.

Using your iron sword, you tried to defend yourself, but their diamond enchanted sword dealt more damage to your leather and iron armor; you died after a couple of hits. You groaned in frustration as you quickly hit "new game". Your kitten got up and sat by your monitor, staring at the loading screen before you pushed him toward his bed.

"Hopefully my teammates are better next round." 

You joined a new game, too focused on that to see that you were on the same server as Tommy, Wilbur, and Tubbo. The game started saying that you were part of the blue team. You looked over at your teammates and read their names. It took you a second until you recognized Tommy's skin and the name "TommyInnit" over his head. "Oh, my god." You looked at your other monitor and saw that Tommy was looking at your character (3). 

"Hello, [Your Username]." His character punched toward you and crouched a couple of times. 

"Hi!" Tubbo's character punched toward you too. 

You crouched back, punching at all three. Wilbur nodded up and down, crouching all the same. You typed into the in-game chat and typed only to your team. "I'm honestly kinda freaking out right now, ngl."

Tommy read it out loud before laughing, "Oh, there's nothing to be afraid of. I see you're a woman- you all know how much I love women." 

You heard Wilbur sigh and Tubbo laughed from the stream as you replied with, "Yes, Tommy, we know how much you love women XD."

He read it out loud and laughed, "I like this one. Hey, [Your Username], do you have a discord?"

Your hands began to shake and get clammy as you read it over a couple of times. As you collected your bricks to upgrade, you typed, "We win and I'll give it to you."

Tommy ran over to the villager selling things for bricks as he read it, "Okay, guys, we need to win. If we do, I'll talk to a girl!" 

That made you laugh, as you covered your cake with endstone and blue wool. The chat on the side of the screen exploded with "Women POG", "TommyInnit talks to a woman???", and - your personal favorite - "Tommy simps over a probably 6-year-old". You laugh out loud as a dono pops up, talking in a robotic voice. 

"Tommy, that could possibly be a young girl. Maybe you shouldn't hit on her?" 

Tommy stumbled over his words as Wilbur and Tubbo laughed and agreed. To save him, you type, "Don't worry chat, I'm 17, thanks for looking out for me though X'D". 

As the game progressed, your team had two emerald points, endstone, obsidian, and blue wool covering your cake, and all members decked in diamond armor and a diamond sword. The other three teams were fighting each other as your team collected and planned your attack. Tommy and Wilbur were going to attack the middle point while you and Tubbo guarded your cake. 

They set off as you and Tubbo collected the bricks and emeralds beside your cake. The two of you just crouched and punched at one another until they came back. Tubbo continued to laugh on stream and Tommy questioned what was going on.

"Me and [Your Username] are just crouching at one another," Tubbo responded, laughing as you jumped and punched at him. 

As you leaned back and closed your eyes laughing, you heard footsteps in your headset and quickly grabbed your mouse. A red member in full leather and an iron sword was running toward your cake. You appeared in front of him as Tubbo finally realized and screamed quietly. In a couple of hits, he died, barely taking away three of your hearts.  

"Tubbo? Tubbo, what happened?" Tommy asked, panic in his voice. 

"There was a red team member attacking our cake. But [Your Username] attacked 'em." Tubbo explained as they got back to their island.

Wilbur came up and jumped in your face, punching at you, "Good job, [Your Username]"

"Thanks." You typed, then another message, "I have a feeling we're gonna win this, but I don't wanna jinx."

You heard Wilbur laugh, "Don't worry. Let's just let the other teams fight and then join later." 

"Yeah, we can sweep up what's left of them!" Tubbo agreed. 

You nodded in-game, collecting the nether stars below you. As soon as you reached 10, you upgraded your resources. You also wanted to get protection but then the green team had taken the middle point. 

"Here you go [Your Username]" You heard Tubbo say through the stream. You crouch in response as a cluster of nether stars were thrown at you. 

Soon after, Wilbur and Tommy did as well. "Let's be honest, [Your Username] is more responsible - other than me, of course," Tommy said.

"Then why don't you take them?" You typed into game chat, challenging the blonde.

The other two laughed as Tommy stood in front of you crouching, "Okay, fine. Given 'em back bitch." 

"Because you called me a b****, I'mma keep them." You said, walking over to your ender chest and putting them inside. You looked at Tommy and crouched once before covering your cake with more wool. 

"Way to go, Tommy, you made her mad," Wilbur said, crouching, having his back to you. 

You laughed once more, falling back into your seat before typing, "I'm not mad, just playing." You retrieved all 12 of the nether stars and upgraded your protection twice. 

As you turned around, you saw a green member - decked in diamond armor - bridging toward your island. You race to the edge and crouch, punching in their direction. They looked up and punched at you, as three more green members also in diamond armor appeared behind him. 

Tubbo alerted the other two and they all crouched at the edge, sword in hand. You clicked on your bow and shot an arrow at the first player. The ringing of a hit echoed through your headset as one got hit back. 

The one you hit looked back up before his teammates switched to ender pearls. You back up, guarding your cake as you watch the green eye fly through the air. 

You ignored the screams of the others on stream as you focused on one green member. They turned as you hit them a couple of times in the back. As they took off around your island, you ate a golden apple and chased after them, cutting them off and landing another blow. 

They turned and tried to hit you, but didn't realize how close they were to the edge and fell. You turned your head to see your teammates fighting off the rest of them. Tubbo was losing a fight by a player who was continuously eating apples. You ran over to him and hit him. Distracted, he tried to fight you but Tubbo's blade had killed him. 

"Thanks [Your Username]!" You heard Tubbo say as Tommy stopped screaming. The rest of green had fled or died. Wilbur had said nothing during that all while Tommy's mouth never seemed to shut. But you've been watching Tommy for so long, it didn't bother you; if anything, it made you laugh as you fought. 

Wilbur's voice echoed through the stream, "Everyone good?" 

Tubbo and Tommy said "Yes", while you nodded in-game. Your cake was never harmed, so you didn't need to rebuild. All your teammates were fine, other than Tubbo was missing more than half of his hearts. 

You all collected emeralds that were still popping out from the ground. Everyone was stocking up on ender pearls and golden apples, roughly a stack of blue wool and arrows. As you closed out of the menu, you heard the sound of breaking blocks as the game said, "Everyone's cake has been eaten." 

Tommy gathered you all around and said some "inspiring" words, "It's just 3 Red, 2 Green, 2 Yellow, and us left. We are the largest, therefore, we should be able to win this. Besides, we are probably the best PVP-ers in the whole match." 

"Don't get too cocky, Tommy." You typed to them, crouching and uncrouching once. 

Tommy laughed and then shrugged on camera, "Well, he's always cocky." Wilbur’s response came through. 

"Hey, you fooking- never mind. Let's attack yellow, they're closest." Tommy said, before turning back to you and Tubbo.

You nod as he led the three of you down the one-block road and to the middle point. One yellow member in iron armor was trying to capture the point from red but panicked when they saw you coming. You ender pearled in front of them and started your attack. They got distracted with you that they couldn't fight off Wilbur from behind. 

"Let's goooo!" Wilbur yelled, running down the three-block path to Yellow's island. The last person panicked when they saw the charging diamond armor and tried to ender pearl away. But the ender pearl hit the side of an island and they fell to their death. 

"Now I feel bad." You quickly typed into game chat. 

"Nah, there's nothing to feel bad about, it happens," Tommy responded to your message. "Now, let's attack Green." 

The four of you charged forward as Red and Green were fighting. Tubbo yelled out and you all stopped. "Let's wait to see how this plays out." He said as you agreed. 

For the next few minutes, you watched as the red team shot at Green as they tried to bridge across. You kept looking around, always cautious if another player tried to scare you. 

A green player got knocked off their bridge and the other was attacked by a red who threw an ender pearl. "Okay, [Your Username], shoot at them to get their attention. You guys ready?" 

Once everyone said they were, you looked down and started building up while crouching. As soon as you got about 8 blocks high, you selected your bow and aimed at the nearest red. You heard the ringing of the bell as the arrow hit them. They all turned to look at you as you started to dig down. An arrow whizzed past your ear as another hit you, making your character fall 6 blocks. 

Your teammates all stood in front of you as the red team came charging. Eating one of your many golden apples, you started to regain health. 

Wilbur fought one Red member with an enchanted diamond sword and enchanted diamond armor. Tommy attacked one member in full enchanted diamond armor and sword, who was building up, which reminded you of Fortnite building. Tubbo and you attacked the last one you was full enchanted diamond armor and sword. Your team had protection 2, but no sharpness on your swords. 

All the sounds around you were swords swinging, characters jumping back from being hit, and Tommy's screaming coming from the stream. You hit the Red member repeatedly, while Tubbo stood back to heal. 

You were down to about 6 hearts, your armor protecting most of your body. Trying to get away quickly, you started to build up; you were dangerously close to the edge. Making sure your character was okay, you started to shoot arrows from above. 

However, you didn't see the Red member who was fighting Tommy ender pearl up and shoot an arrow at you. "[Your Username]! Look out!" Tommy yelled as you were hit. 

Your character fell off the pillar and down toward the abyss. Having only a second to react, you quickly hit your ender pearls and threw one at the pillar. It connected and you teleported. You quickly placed a block underneath you, surviving with 3 hearts. 

"Ohhh! Oh my god!" You screamed as you ate two golden apples. "Holy shit!" 

As you hit 8 hearts, you joined the battle. Tommy was on 2 hearts and was being chased. You ender pearled behind him and attacked the Red member. Tommy must have had gotten him low because you hit him with two swings and he was dead. Tommy stopped running and saw you. "You're alive??" He seemed shocked. 

You crouched a couple of times, nodding. "You gotta tell me how later."

You nod once and turn to help your friends. As you returned with Tommy behind you, you saw that Wilbur was fighting one off and the other had just knocked Tubbo off the edge. You heard him scream as he fell. 

The red member saw you and quickly ate a golden apple as you charged him. You managed to hit him a couple of times in a row and his character got punched off the edge. At the same time, Wilbur had just killed the last Red member. 

You heard the "Let's goooo!" from the stream and jumped up and down. 

You quickly pulled up discord and got your information before pulling up Instagram on your phone. You found Tommy and opened a chat, sending him your discord. All you had to do was wait for him to open it. 

You also added next to the link, "Wait till after stream." 

As a new game was 20 seconds from starting, you realized that Tommy was talking to you. He wanted you to join another game with them. Of course, you agreed and you all selected the green team.

A couple of hours went past and it was getting later and later. The sky outside darkened and you heard your parents coming home from work. You were an only child, so no siblings were trashing the house with their stuff. 

Your kitten kept sitting in front of your screen, watching the particles in-game. You accidentally let the yellow team eat your cake and then died trying to defend it. Wilbur has just died as Tommy and Tubbo ran for their lives. 

But unfortunately, they had to succumb to defeat and Tommy had to end the stream. As he said his goodbyes to chat, you closed out of the stream and stared at your phone. You waited for it to go off, but it didn't. Not until then minutes after. 

When it eventually did, you were on your PC playing Overwatch. The match had just ended, so you checked. It was a discord text from TommyInnit.

You calmed your inner panic before opening your phone. You accepted his buddy request with no hesitation. Another message went off and it had one single word. "Call?" 

At that very moment, you heard your mother shout out to you. You turned back to your phone before responding with, "Yeah, sure, just give me a minute."

Your mother wanted you to eat dinner; which was macaroni and cheese with chicken nuggets (4). You took a plate to your room and set it down on your desk, watching your cat. He seemed to ignore you but you knew he was waiting for a moment when you're not looking. 

You opened your phone and typed in your chat that you were back. Almost a second after you sent it, you were getting a call from Tommy. You accepted the call and said, "Hello?"

"Okay, well, hi- sorry, I really want to ask. How the fuck did you pull off that bow and arrow kill earlier?" You heard his voice on the other end. He seemed nervous but also knew exactly what he wanted to say.

You laughed, "Well, I've always been good at archery. On video games, of course, not so much in real life." 

"Hm, archery. That should be my next vlog- but anyway! How did you survive that first round? I saw you fall. Was it lag?" 

"Nope, I had ender pearls. I just used one quickly. To be honest, I was as surprised as you were. I was not expecting it to work." You responded as you picked up your cat who was trying to sneak over to your food. 

As the two of you talked, a smile never left your face. You two laughed like you were old friends greeting each other for the first time in years. You kept battling your kitten, which entertained Tommy. You talked until it was 9 pm in America. You previously found out from school that it was a 5-hour difference between the US and Great Britain.

"Wait, wait, wait, Tommy? Isn't it like 2 in the morning for you right now?" You asked after he hummed. 

"Uhh, no- wait, yeah, yep, yep, it is. That explains why I'm so tired-" he started laughing which in turn, made you laugh. 

"Ugghh, I should probably go to bed." He yawned midway through his sentence. 

You nodded, although he couldn't see you, "Yeah, you yawning is making me tired." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, well, it was nice meeting you [Your Name], and um, maybe we can play sometime soon." You heard him say.

"Yeah, it would be fun.” You said, “I would love to play some more sometime. I’m sure you can find time in that “Busy schedule” of yours.” 

You heard Tommy laugh from the other end, “Well, I mean, I’m not that busy. But we’ll see. Don’t tell anyone, but more vlogs are coming soon, so, I’m pretty busy this week.” 

“Alright, I won’t keep you up too late. Goodbye Tommy, it was nice meeting you.” You said. 

“Yep, you too. Goodnight!-” he ended the call as he dragged out the last of his sentence. You leaned back in your chair and looked at the ceiling, a smile on your face. That day was one of your best days.

You were definitely looking forward to the next match you would play with TommyInnit.

[disasterdemi]

This is the demiromantic anon that asked for love advice. I appreciated the meme (I think that's what that was? I'm an 80 year old in a teenage body) but I kind of need advice. He's a close friend - we've been friends for almost 3 years now and I have no idea how he feels and I don't want to wreck our good friendship. Please send help (and more memes, I really liked the one you posted with your message, it made me laugh)

Of course!

Before I say anything else though, a good friendship should be able to survive people catching romantic feelings. Despite what the alloromantics will tell you, friendship and romantic attraction can coexist! People can still be friends even if they have different types of feelings for each other, as long as there's consent and communication about it. (I'll talk more about this towards the end).

Anywho, I wanted this to be somewhat thorough which means it got... rather long. So I'll put the rest under a read more:

I’d suggest doing a few things:

1. Work out what you want

This is a very important first step! We often say attraction ≠ action with regards to orientation (like asexual doesn’t mean celibate, etc) but it goes the other way too. You have a crush on your friend, but it’s completely up to you whether you want to act upon it or not. You can enjoy the feeling of liking someone romantically, but not want to be in a relationship. Or you may decide that you do really want to go out with him. Have a good think about what you actually want to do with these feelings before you initiate any conversations.

Along the same lines, think about your more specific wants and boundaries. Like, do you want to hold hands, or kiss, or call him your boyfriend, etc? But also, what are you not comfortable doing (especially if you end up dating) – for example, I think parts of my romance aversion tend to stick around for a while even after I catch feelings for someone, so I’d want to communicate that to the person (e.g. “I don’t feel comfortable kissing just yet, but hugging and holding hands are okay” or whatever).

2. Work out how he feels

To be honest this is the hardest one to offer advice on because it is so dependent on the people involved. But uhh here are some ideas:

For some people, the best option is to just be frank about it. Like: “Hey, I like you romantically and I’d be interested in [insert stuff from part 1 here] with you.” (Probably not those words exactly haha they’re a bit dispassionate). Maybe also mention that you value your friendship just as much, and that he shouldn’t feel bad if he’s not interested in doing those things. If you feel confident enough and think your friendship is pretty solid - so he wouldn’t freak out if he doesn’t like you back - then this is a good option.

However, it sounds from your ask like that road might be a bit intimidating. Which is totally understandable! In which case, you might want to do some sleuthing first :P

Has he had a crush on anyone while you’ve known him? If so, how did he act around them, how did he talk about them, etc – and is he doing anything like that with you?

Recruit a mutual friend to do some reconnaissance (I’m making this sound way more dramatic than it is haha). If you have someone you trust to do this, then this is probably the least personally risky option? Maybe?

Some people suggest starting to do flirty/romantic things like lingering touches or whatever but I’ll admit that rings my Consent alarm bells, and I feel like it could lead to miscommunication. Up to you though.

NOTE! In my opinion, asking them “Do you have a crush?” Or “Who do you have a crush on?” is probably the least likely to yield usable results. Especially with teenagers. It’s bloody intimidating to confess to your crush if they ask you outright without establishing that they like you first. (Again, why option 1 can be good if you feel confident enough. He’s more likely to admit he reciprocates if you take the first step.)

3. Go about getting what you both want

(if you don't want to change your current friendship/relationship)

If you're happy just chilling in your romantic feelings and not doing anything about them, you can probably either

Continue as you have been

Explain the situation to him. This could help if you want to make sure he understands why you might be behaving differently towards him.

(if he likes you back and you want to change your current relationship with him)

If you go with sleuthing, once you’ve worked out if he likes you I still strongly recommend telling him how you feel (see: 2.1). Communicate communicate communicate. You won’t get want you want if you don’t communicate. Dropping hints is just so rarely successful and can cause a whole lot of miscommunication, so I know it’s scary but if you think he likes you back you’re better of having an open, honest conversation about it.

Then after that, you can go about explaining the stuff you thought about in part 1! If being aspec has taught you anything, hopefully it’s that no two relationships are the same – so talk about what you both want so everyone is consenting and happy! Listen to him as well, and encourage him to think about his wants and boundaries. Maybe even give him a few days to think about them before continuing the conversation.

4. What to do if he doesn’t like you back

You can’t control other people’s feelings. This is so important. Of course, you can be sad if he doesn’t like you back, but remember that it’s not his fault, (it’s also not your fault for catching feelings,) and make sure he knows you are okay with him not returning your feelings! He’ll probably feel bad, so again reiterate that you don’t value a romantic relationship with him any more than your friendship.

Then you should both try to be sensitive to boundaries (probably talk about them if you can):

You might need some time away from him. That’s okay and understandable, but tell him that’s why and that it’s not because you don’t want to be friends anymore.

He might want some space from you. It can be uncomfortable for people to know someone has an unreciprocated crush on them. Maybe he’ll need some time to get used to it. But if he doesn’t bring it up, make sure you check.

Where do you go from here?

(Super important!!) Like I said earlier, people can have different feelings about each other and still get on well! You can like him romantically and he can like you platonically and you can still be good friends! So:

You shouldn’t have to “get over him” (unless you want to). A crush is about your feelings, not expectations from him. But make sure to ask him how comfortable he is with that knowledge - and explain the point before this if you need to.

On the one hand, he might be more comfortable if you stick to strictly platonic things. Make sure you respect that.

On the other hand, maybe he’s actually okay with some aspects from part 1. Maybe he’d like to hug you more, or is okay holding your hand (platonically?), but doesn’t want to kiss you or be your boyfriend. People can do things together that have different meanings to each of them, as long as there’s consent and communication.

Final note: Please please don't take this as an instruction manual - these are just my own thoughts, and what works for some people won't always work for others. So use my answer more as something to start from - something to form your own ideas from. Use pieces that you think will work, and discard others. You know yourself and your friend much better than I do :)

Best of luck dear Anon, I hope you and your friend figure stuff out <3

And as a send-off, here's a relevant old meme of mine for you :)

(There are also plenty more memes in my memes tag (link in the description at the top of my blog) if you haven’t already seen them lol)