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redwinterroses · 8 months

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There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day.

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though.

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes.

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem.

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall.

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye.

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back.

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead.

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.”

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!”

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes.

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there.

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault.

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light.

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

#falsesymmetry #geminitay #red said eldritch gem rights #let her be cheerful and scary too she deserves it #also there needs to be more Vault Hunter fic in the world. and more False content.#this was inspired by a post of some enormous redwood trees I saw the other day with teeny tiny people at the base of them #along with Gem's tree building -- the cherry trees in her hardcore and s9 builds #and the headcanon from hc8 and empires that she's a worldhopper #anyway this is the first thing I've really written in (over?) a year so... I'm quite happy about it.#might polish and put it on AO3 later but for now it's just for the hellsite <3 #redwinterwrites #oh also excuse for creeper/minecraft worldbuilding yaaay XD

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch.

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch.

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream.

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.”

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet.

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave.

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now.

Remembering the words.

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does.

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is.

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse.

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin.

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside.

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up.

Everything. You're everything.

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin.

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise.

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody.

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is.

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second.

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers.

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too."

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror.

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love.

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie.

I love you.

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days.

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie.

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now.

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs.

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient.

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other.

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie.

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord.

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it."

And so they do.

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means."

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them.

You know, I always figured it would be you.

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be.

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too."

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys."

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his.

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!"

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time.

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile.

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you.

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression.

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?"

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you."

"Hmm. I love you more."

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?"

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers.

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask.

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future.

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #i feel like this one's a bit disjointed but i kinda like that about it?? little snippets that make a happy ending you know??#idk i hope you like it too (i always get anxious about endings tbh catch me vibrating out of my skin)#dio words #i cannot believe it is done. i cannot believe what a ride it's been. i'll find the words for it later i think. first we read. and we bask 🤍#morcantinon i am ENDLESSLY sorry i forgot to tag you even after you sent that wonderful ask please forgive me 😭🤍#i also forget a bunch of people who asked in the reblogs but dear god i hope you find this anyway i am all over the place #i will edit this and work in more chrissy/robin when i post it to ao3. but this is steddie week. and these are 15k words of an au #that happened spontaneously and within 2h each night of me flying by the seat of my pants. xD

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giddyfenix · 9 months

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Canines

Thing is, Etho had never been a dog person.

Dogs tended to be too loud, too clingy, too excitable—the tinier the worse. He didn't dislike them per se, except he kind of did.

He liked cats better. They were smarter, they knew themselves better, they had a level of spatial awareness even he couldn't comprehend. They were vigilant, but not obnoxious about it.

Where a dog would uselessly bark and go wild, a cat would sit and stare at the offender until it pissed itself. A dog would try hard, too hard, until its energy became useless in its overabundance. A cat would chase down a possible threat for fun, and it'd succeed.

Etho could appreciate cats and their values. The same could not be said for dogs.

Until Joel, that is.

He wasn’t trying to imply that Joel was a dog. Not necessarily. But the descriptors fitted and, for the first time, Etho found it all infuriatingly endearing.

Maybe he was a bit more like a wolf, with sharper canines and predator instincts. Either that or a poodle. He just couldn’t seem to stay quiet. Or calm. Or content. At all.

“You suck,” Joel yelled at Bdubs.

Maybe closer to a poodle, Etho thought.

Joel turned to him. “Let’s go kill him,” he said.

Wolf. Maybe.

“We’re yellow, we can’t.”

“You’re no fun,” Joel whined.

Poodle. Definitely poodle.

He watched Joel huff and turn to leave and idly wondered if this was what dog owners felt, the thing that drove them to dogs in the first place.

He had never understood them, except he was starting to believe maybe he could, and that was both an interesting and concerning realization.

“Well, don't stay behind,” Joel said impatiently. He had stopped walking the second he realized Etho hadn't fallen into step behind him, almost like having him out of sight was an unfathomable problem rather than a minor inconvenience.

And look, he still wasn't trying to say Joel was a dog, but…

“Come on,” he said, tapping his foot. “Someone will touch you and I won't be around to bite them. Hurry up.”

It was probably a joke, but his voice sounded just annoyed enough that Etho thought he should maybe believe him.

Etho just stared at Joel for a few seconds longer. He could perfectly picture Joel's bloodied teeth closed around someone's throat, and the sadistic grin that'd follow. So perhaps, and just perhaps, there was merit to the earlier wolf theory.

Joel walked back to Etho, scowling. “Come on,” he repeated, then proceeded to grab his wrist and pull him along.

He was a poodle that believed itself to be a wolf, Etho decided.

He let himself be pulled forward, and it was only when he saw Tango scurry away upon seeing them that it clicked.

No, he realized with dawning horror. Joel was a wolf with poodle tendencies.

And Etho—proud cat person, proud of himself in general up to that very point in life—found that endearing.

#smalletho #smallethoweek #trafficshipping #giddy words #lol #plotless ficlets my beloved <3 #BTW I PROMISE ILL POST SOMETHING AO3 WORTHY FOR SMALLETHO WEEK. I PROMMY.#i have 2 done and ready to go but theyre for day 5 and 7 respectively XD

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mikariin · 9 months

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To be Reminded of Her

Chapter 01 Summary: After Sabo’s death, Ace felt like they relied heavily on one another, Luffy for his last brother and Ace for the last thing keeping him from just removing his cursed existence. Luffy still didn’t understand everything that was going on with him, but he knew that he was one of the last things tethering him to this world and made it his personal goal to let Ace know he adored and cared for him.

He thinks he once heard Dadan call it an unhealthy coping mechanism, but what did that old hag know? Nothing, that’s right.

This piece of work that is coming to the papers after waiting almost three whole months of being done couldn't have happened without some key components and major help in the production part of it!

The Idea was given by @arielxlazarus, Beta read by @lerya-fanfic and Art by @madbunsy! Thank you all for the help in this behemoth of a story!

#ao3 writer #fanfic writer #one piece #writer thoughts #writer things #writerscommunity #writerscorner #ace one piece #marace #whitebeard pirates one piece #collaboration #art collab #someone else's art in my story xD #writer and artist collab #asl trio #sabo one piece #monkey d luffy

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cuubism · 1 year

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i dare to venture 1 degree out of my usual ao3 circle and

#not tagging or calling out the actual person or fic this is not a call out blog #this does kinda make me want to die tho actually #ao3 #i've learnt my lesson. i won't go in broad fandom tags anymore XD they taught me

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gazkamurocho · 11 months

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Prison buddies

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aca-4 · 3 months

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alternate / close-up version:

Read this really cool fanfic called It Usually Takes a Trowel to Dig Up the Dirt, But Your Bare Hands Work Just Fine by honeynpeaches on AO3.

It's been a while now but this story (and their others, they're all so good!) still stuck with me. So I drew fanart of it!

----

UNDERTALE and its characters belong to Toby Fox

Though this scene in particular is from a story by honeynpeaches ( @peachpitss ), as I mentioned before

#undertale art #frisk #chara #fanfiction based fanart #never done that before #my immaculate timing of posting this on the day AO3 is doing maintenance XD #swear i didn't know that lmao

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ao3-shenanigans · 4 months

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Quick tags I found browsing the rather meager tag of my favorite ship

A story that tells itself

#whaaaaa #that’s amazing #thanks for sharing XD #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #fanfic #fandom #ao3 shenanigans ask #ao3 tags

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skyward-floored · 1 year

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Whumptober Day 1: Swooning, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Welcome back to whumptober yet again >:D I’m going to try and do all 31 days again, we’ll see if I can manage it!

Anyways, this got longer then I meant it to, but I had to corral the ending into something that made sense XD Enjoy!

Read it on ao3

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“You find that key yet, Rancher?” a voice called from way off in the distance.

Twilight barked back a negative, and continued to sniff around for the key to the exit of the room the others were in. There’d been a spot only his wolf form could easily get to, and so he’d climbed up to it and crawled through, moving soft dirt with his paws until he’d entered into the more spacious area he was in now.

The room appeared to be circular, but there were several high walls he couldn’t see over so he couldn’t tell for sure. They were somewhat maze-like, and confusing in their layout, so Twilight was forced to rely on scent, searching for the metallic, and no-doubt rusty-smelling key.

He turned several corners, following a faint metallic smell he hoped was his objective. There wasn’t much in the maze apart from a few rats and the concerning remains of a skeleton, and Twilight padded cautiously on, perking up the moment the glint of a treasure chest finally caught his eye. He ran up to it, and transformed back into a Hylian, eagerly opening the chest.

A dark, shining key sat inside, just what he’d been looking for.

Twilight reached inside with a warm feeling of satisfaction, then heard a faint click as he lifted the key. A cloud of dark particles shot up from the chest, blowing right in Twilight’s face, and he gasped involuntarily, inhaling a good portion of it.

He began coughing as the dust coated his throat, the dust making him choke as he stumbled backwards. The cloud settled after a moment, but Twilight kept coughing out whatever he could, blinking tears from his eyes and wiping dust off his face.

He patted himself down, and looked around for any threat or danger to his person, but the room was as silent as it had been, and apart from the dryness of his throat, Twilight felt no ill effects.

Must have been an old boobytrap, he thought to himself, coughing a bit more as he pocketed the key and headed back the way he came. Arrows or something were probably supposed to fly out at my face... Whatever it was probably disintegrated because they were so old.

Twilight coughed again, and shook more dust out of his hair.

It’s a good thing I wasn’t here a few decades sooner.

Twilight made it back out of the maze and into the other room without further incident, though the skeleton tried to grab him as he walked by. He easily fought it off, and told the others about it with a laugh as they continued through the dungeon, and the strange black dust entirely fled his mind.

The dungeon was large, obviously some kind of fort once upon a time, but it had been long abandoned apart from the monsters who’d taken up residence inside. The heroes ran into a large group of them shortly, and they set to work, room echoing with shouts and screeches alike.

Twilight went for a troublesome-looking gibdo (one of Legend’s fortunately, apparently his didn’t scream), and began attacking, slicing at the strangely thick bandages.

Sky was fighting another one nearby, and a little further away Legend was yelling something as Wild shot several fire arrows. A group of the gibdos burst into flames, but Twilight tried to focus on his own battle, even as Legend yelled at Wild again.

The gibdo wasn’t fast, but it was sturdy, and it took a lot of time for Twilight to make any headway in hurting it. He jumped around to the back of it more than once, slicing in the same spot, and the gibdo finally seemed like it was flagging after several of the attacks.

It made a move for him, swiping at his middle, but Twilight took the opportunity to roll around and run it through with his sword, the monster letting out an odd moan before collapsing into dust.

Twilight glanced at where the gibdo had swiped at him, but his tunic wasn’t even ripped. Satisfied that he was fine, he jumped back into the fray, avoiding a stalfos that jumped at him and nearly sliced off his arm. Twilight immediately went on the attack, blocking another swipe with his shield, and lunging forward to swipe at the monster.

But the moment he stepped forward, a strange wave of something swept over him, making him stumble. He blinked dizzily, head lightly spinning, and looked around in confusion.

His head felt light, the battle around him fading at the edges, and he put a hand to his head, wondering what on earth was going on.

He felt almost as if he was suffering the effects of an injury, a knock to the head, blood loss or something similar, but that gibdo had barely touched him, why was he..?

Twilight stumbled as he avoided a swipe from the stalfos’s blade, clumsily blocking it with his shield. The crash of the weapon hitting it made him wince, and he desperately tried to gather his wits about him so he could fight back.

What was going on here?

Twilight tried to go on the offensive, swinging his sword, but somehow he missed the stalfos entirely. The lack of resistance made him stumble, and the stalfos let out a strange clattering cackle as it swung at him again, red eyes blurring in Twilight’s vision.

A glowing blade suddenly entered his sight, and Twilight watched as Sky swiped straight through the stalfos that had been hedging him, the bones falling to pieces. The room was suddenly a lot quieter, and Twilight distantly realized that that must have been the last monster.

“Twilight, are you okay? That thing nearly got you!” Sky said with a smile, his voice only mildly worried as he sheathed his sword.

Twilight gave him a nod, blinking as he tried to make the room quit swimming around him. It refused to stop though, and Sky’s expression turned more truly concerned.

“Twilight? Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m... I’m fine,” he said a little shakily, resting a hand on his head. “Think I... just...”

He coughed, black flecks falling on his hand, and his mind abruptly flashed back to the dust in the treasure chest.

...perhaps the boobytrap hadn’t been as ruined as he’d thought.

Sky’s eyes went wide, and the room suddenly lurched, shaking and wavering all around. Twilight heard a shout, but it was muffled and strange, and didn’t make any sense to his ears.

He couldn’t hold his weight any longer, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head as his legs gave out.

(...)

Something shook him, a bit frantically, and Twilight sluggishly came back to awareness.

He blinked his eyes open, and bit back a groan as he closed them again, his vision swirling and rolling around. Something was shaking him again, but Twilight didn’t reopen his eyes, afraid he would throw up if he did.

“Rancher, open your eyes, come on.”

Twilight reluctantly cracked them open, several things moving above him in dizzying color.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” the same voice asked him, and Twilight blinked, trying to focus on the things in his vision that kept blurring in and out of focus.

“Quit movin’ th’m,” he mumbled, and more voices echoed above him, making him only feel more dizzy as he tried to listen to them.

“Concussion you think?”

“He didn’t hit his head, there’s no injuries there I can find.”

“Well what’s wrong with him then?!”

“Has he had anything to eat today?”

“Probably needs a bath, he’s filthy.”

“Don’t be stupid, that wouldn’t make him faint!”

Twilight’s breath caught funny in his chest, and he coughed again, a sharp wave of vertigo hitting as someone sat him up. A groan escaped his lips, and a hand gently turned his head.

“Twilight, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Twilight blinked hazily, trying to focus on whoever was talking to him, but his vision refused to do what he wanted it to, and his dizziness grew to an excruciating degree.

He let out a whimper, uncertain of what was going on, and felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest, intense and painful. It spread through his body like liquid fire, and he cried out, moving suddenly agonizing.

“Twilight!”

The hand was back and frantically patting his cheek, and something moved in front of him again, but all Twilight could do was focus on the dizziness and pain that was demanding all of his attention.

“Twilight, please, focus, do you know what happened?”

Twilight breathed in shakily, tensing as another wave of pain ripped through him. He had to tell them what was wrong, he had to warn them in case there was more of the dust, in case it hurt one of them— but all he could do was try not to scream.

“Twilight?”

Twilight squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them, trying to meet whoever was in front of him’s eyes.

“Th... dust...” he moaned, voice barely more then a whisper, “brea... thed...”

His breath caught with pain, and Twilight heard someone shout as the dizziness overcame him again, darkness washing over his vision.

(...)

When Twilight woke back up, he was being held between two people, arms over their shoulders.

He blinked dizzily, and saw stone under his feet, moving slowly as he was carried forward. We must still be in the dungeon.

Another wave of that strange fiery pain ripped through him, and Twilight gasped, making whoever was holding him startle.

“He’s awake!”

Footsteps clattered on the stone, and hands poked at him, lightly holding up his chin.

“Rancher? How are you feeling?”

Twilight couldn’t manage anything more then a groan, and something gently ran through his hair.

“Okay, that’s alright, you’re going to be fine. Can you drink something for us? Warriors thinks a potion will help.”

Twilight mumbled something he hoped was a good enough reply, and something cool was pressed to his lips. Sweetness hit his tongue as it was tilted back, and Twilight drank, waiting for the potion to kick in.

The very beginnings of warmth began to settle in his chest, but then his stomach lurched, and he jerked forward, coughing up the healing draught and gagging at the taste of it coming back up. It felt weirdly dry as well, nearly making him choke, and Twilight felt the arms come up to prop him into a slightly different position.

“Easy Rancher...”

“Should we give him another?”

“He won’t be able to keep it down, not with the way he’s acting.”

“Well now what?!”

“...Guys? He’s... not just throwing up potion.”

The room went oddly quiet, apart from Twilight’s harsh breathing, his stomach and head now swirling with nausea. He’d finished throwing up, but now his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He coughed something out, and there was a hand on his cheek again, holding him steady.

“Four said he mentioned breathing in dust earlier... do you think that’s what he meant?”

“I don’t see what else he could have meant.”

“So the dust is making him like this... we just gotta get it out somehow!”

Twilight moaned as his head swirled, and something touched him, gently rubbing his shoulder as his awareness started to fade again.

“Don’t worry Twi, we’ll fix this. Just hold on.”

(...)

Twilight came to with a jolt the next time, something forcing his mouth open, air being pulled through his lips.

He heaved in a gasp, and hands moved to hold him down, voices talking far above his head and the ground rolling up and down under his back. He tried to struggle, but the hands were firm, and something brushed through his hair as he tried to drag in another gasp.

“I’m so sorry Twilight, but this’ll help, try and stay still.”

The wind increased in its intensity, and Twilight felt like every bit of air was being sucked from inside him, leaving him unable to breath, unable to fight, to get away they were holding him down—

A sob choked from his throat, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop them from doing whatever it was they were doing and it made him feel sick. What felt like sand fell down his cheeks, and he let out a breathless scream as the air continued to be pulled from him, the fire in his limbs blazing, his head swirling.

There was more talking but Twilight couldn’t focus on any of it, his world narrowed down to pain and wind and a scratchy feeling in his throat and lungs and all over inside of him.

It hurt.

He still couldn’t breathe, no matter how he thrashed or cried out and the pain was so intense and thick that the darkness soon dragged him under yet again.

(...)

A hand was brushing through his hair, teasing out knots, gentle in its motions.

Twilight didn’t do anything but focus on it for a minute, the touch soothing and calm. Then he realized just how dry his throat felt, his insides hollow, and he let out a breathy moan, trying to open his eyes.

“Whoa, easy,” someone said, and Twilight finally dragged his eyes open, pleasantly surprised when his vision didn’t smear. He was able to look to the side and meet who turned out to be Four’s eyes without any swirling spots or fire in his chest, and he felt a spark of equal relief and confusion.

“...’thy?” he rasped, and Four nodded, looking pleased.

“Hey, he’s awake!” another voice said, and Sky leaned over into Twilight’s vision. He looked tired, but there was a smile on his face. “Good to see you up, Rancher.”

“Oh thank Hylia,” another voice gasped, and Wild appeared in his vision as well, looking utterly relieved. “We weren’t sure if that was going to work or not.”

“If what w...work..?” Twilight croaked, and Sky, Four, and Wild all looked at each other.

“We had to get the dust out somehow,” Four said quietly, guilt thick in his voice. “I figured since you inhaled it... sucking it out would be our best bet.”

“Four has an item that worked rather well,” Sky said, though his smile had grown tight. “We weren’t sure at first if it had helped, but... well, we’re glad you’re all right, Rancher.”

Twilight blinked, and looked between the three. He was having some trouble following exactly what was being said, he felt sore and tired, and a bit like a paper straw someone had sucked air through a few too many times, but even he could tell that Four felt awful.

And sure, he didn’t quite know why, or remember exactly what had happened, but Four had helped him, and that was enough for Twilight.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and worked past the bit of dizziness still in his head to reach over and pat Four’s hand. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t manage anything further, but it seemed like it was enough. Four took his hand in his and gave it a squeeze, and Twilight dredged up a smile.

“Screw dungeons,” Wild muttered fiercely, and went back to playing with Twilight’s hair. “They’re stupid and they suck.”

Twilight barked out a laugh, wheezy and uncomfortable, but it was worth it seeing the relieved looks that were exchanged above him.

“Agree. Screw ‘em,” he croaked.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu Sky #lu four #lu Wild #whumptober 2023 #day 1 #swooning #how many fingers am i holding up?#writing from the floor #ask to tag #more specific warnings on ao3 if you need that #anyway WHEW #I stayed up late trying to finish this #I finally wrangled an ending that’s... well it’s okay I guess XD #at least it’s done

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