#what is void scar au about?

[aresonist]

void scar void scar void scar

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[frostbitebakery]

If I may request for gooey wan:

After reading the snippet about Rex' reaction, I'm just curious how different groups of people react to the craziness of Obi-Wan's powers and how unfazed the 212th is.

How does his powers act when they're on shore leave and he and Cody go to Dex's for lunch.

Anyway keep up the amazing writing, can't wait for the next part of the loud!au it's so good ❤️

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a child-like voice sings and Fives tries to become one with the wall immediately.

“You cannot run! You cannot hide!” The following giggling turns up the goosebumps on his arms to the max, and he indulges in a shiver.

“I hate horror holos,” he whispers to himself before switching on internal comms. “Weren’t we supposed to be inconspicuous about this?”

“Change of plans,” Rex tells him from somewhere on the northern side of the command center. “He’s stopping them from calling reinforcements.”

The child-voice suddenly shrieks in glee and Fives’ goosebumps reach new heights. “Found you!”

“Squad Esk, change position to point 5-7-Krenth,” Commander Cody orders over comms, and, naturally, they haul ass.

Squatting down on the gangway opens up quite the view in the bubble of disturbing silence that apparently surrounds General Kenobi when he does his thing.

It’s a void of nothingness. Not actually harmful to living beings, though the sparking droids let Fives theorize that some electronics don’t have much to buffer against whatever the General… exudes. Pardon his Coruscanti.

The enemy commander scrambles against the wall, trying to get away from Kenobi who’s standing still in front of them. The black smoke is thick, covering the entire floor and crawling up the corners nearby.

The enemy is caught up in the General’s look, the Galaxy black holes that are rumored to hide behind the pleasant smile.

Fives clicks his knee guard against the gangway just to break the suffocating silence but no sound rises up.

The enemy collapses to their knees and Kenobi steps back. Not physically but his sheer presence seems to decrease in intensity. Fives clicks his kneeguard again and this time, the sound is allowed to reach his ears.

“Cody,” Kenobi says quietly, “the hostages are about to be transported off planet. I don’t know from which port.”

“On it,” Commander Cody answers and immediately barks orders over comms to shut down all spaceports.

“Do you surrender,” Kenobi asks, still quiet. Tired.

Fives feels his brow furrow involuntarily.

“Yes,” the enemy replies, pale and shaking under the General’s gaze. “Please…”

And that’s how Fives’ first joint mission ends. Not with a bang but goosebumps that fail to disappear for a few good hours afterwards.

.

“It’s been rough for him,” Cody admits, absently swirling the straw through the milkshake Dex put in front of him the moment he fell into a seat at the counter like all his strings had been cut. “He’s overcompensating for the time he hid from me— us who he is.”

Dex mulls over that for a moment. Long enough the Commander glances up at him. “He’s a dumbass,” he settles on, the diplomatic route. “Always has been.”

Cody snorts, takes a sip. “I talked to him, of course,” he says, flaps his hand before scratching at the prominent scar on his forehead. “He competently ignored me to the point I benched him.” Cody shakes his head, wide eyes on the milkshake. “That was incredibly stressful.”

The diner is empty at this time of night. Quiet and reserved for all types of encounters; from distressed clone commanders to their smokey nightmare Jedi.

Dex studies Cody for a moment, weighing the possibilities what a man like that could need the most at the moment. “Grab the mop. We’re cleaning the kitchen.”

.

“—and then he looks at you with those big eyes and you’re supposed to say no? How?” Cody hauls the bucket out of the sink, black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “While he tells you once again about boundaries and all the important aspects of choice, and due diligence of command.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Dex says drily, scrubbing at a medium stubborn stain on the durasteel work counter.

“I am aware, thanks,” Cody sneers and Dex hides his laugh in the spritz of grease remover. “I want to be unaware of that but that stage has passed right to anger.” He wrings out the mop with what Dex would describe as thirst for vengeance. “Maybe I can un-love him,” he murmurs to himself like on the verge of epiphany. “What stage is that?”

“Bargaining,” Dex replies, crosses two of his arms while another still scrubs at the stain. “Those are the five stages of grief by the way. You’re falling in love.”

“Isn’t that the same in the end?” Cody mutters which is certainly food for thought.

“The first time I met Obi-Wan,” Dex starts and the Commander’s incredible attention is focused on him like a laser. It’s intimidating even for someone like Dex. “He got stuck in the darkness in the back alley.”

“Sounds just like him.”

It had been right out of a horror holo.

:

The alley behind the diner had always been a quiet place on Coruscant.

Dex let the trash bag fall into the dumpster but no sound came forward.

It had never been this quiet and dark.

He tapped on the ground with a foot. Nothing. Flicked his fingers against a drainpipe.

Nothing.

“I’m sorry,” a young voice said from the dark, right behind his shoulder, and Dex jumped. “I don’t know how to stop it.”

He spun around, squinted into the unnatural dark.

A soft sniffle from above and he looked up and into blue glowing eyes. “I’m sorry.”

.

Smoke rushed past him, howling and shrieking in the distance. Two of his hands were clamped around a small waist while the child and he tried their best to separate smoke from the darkness.

“I really am trying to corporeal my sense of self,” the child defended himself and Dex could only imagine the kinds of accusations thrown his way.

“Don’t worry about.” They’d been trying to untangle the child from the side of the building for close to twenty minutes with no progress at all. “You’re like a sticky womp rat,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

The offense taken was a bit too hilarious. Dex grinned up at the kid. “You don’t know what a sticky womp rat is? The slime toy? You throw it to the ceiling and it sticks.”

“A slime—!”

And just like that they both fell to the ground. Dex’s back would never forgive him.

.

“I trapped someone in their nightmares,” the young Jedi confessed, shoulders hunched up.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Dex asked, whisking hot milk into the custard.

“At first,” was the murmured reply, and Dex was surprised. The child didn’t seem the type. “I was so angry with Bruck.”

“You let them go?”

“As soon as I could.”

Dex turned around, watched Obi-Wan wipe at his eyes with the smoky sleeves. “Which wasn’t fast enough, I’m guessing,” he said, placed with custard bowl in front of the child.

“There’s no one like me at the Order,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I want to help, not be the cause for pain.”

:

“He took it to the extreme,” Dex says, remembers the instances too close in time where Obi-Wan visited him, looking more and more human and less and less like himself. “He put his nature into a box and forgot about it.”

“His compartmentalization is top tier,” Cody murmurs, close to awe.

Dex facepalms. “Not the point.”

Cody takes another dozen plates to the designated cupboard. “After the incident,” and Dex can hear the suppressed capitalization of the word, “he was like a newborn. Stumbling and helpless.”

“Must’ve been a nightmare.” He remembers the chill, the feeling of being hunted.

“No one slept a wink the first week,” Cody laughs, sobers. “It was like the ship was haunted by ourselves. He apologized so much. Wasn’t easy.”

Dex can only imagine.

Cody looks up, makes sure of the eye contact, and Dex doesn’t do him the disservice of looking away. “He had helped us so much. So we stepped up and helped him.”

Obi-Wan is one unlucky son of a blaster but he earns the loyalty given to him.

.

“Thank you, Dex,” Obi-Wan said, eyes glowing blue. Small claws clinked against the empty bowl.

Dex nodded, ruffled ginger hair. “Anytime, young Jedi. Your ride is here.”

I know, was whispered into his ear and he shivered.

Obi-Wan blushed. “Sorry.” Hopped down from the seat and into the care of the Jedi, visibly sagging with relief, coming through the diner door.

There was a small black blob on the floor. Dex wiped it away without second thought.

Cold, cold, alone. Strangling suffocating he knows—

“I know what you did and your victims will be more forgiving that I am.”

Cold. He runs. Runs runs runs—

.

“You two should come in together next time,” Dex suggests, shakes off the memory.

Cody smiles at him.

:

“I am the hungry.” Obi-Wan’s eyes rush into black. He takes a step forward, flickers. “I am the anyone. I am the everywhere.” The void spreads, consumes. “I hunt your nightmares until I become them.”

“See,” a voice whispers into Cody’s head, “deep down, deep down, they’re all like that.”

Cody nods, stands up straight. “Blast him.”

The 212th turns as one, fires. Fires and fires until the smoke screams.

“Good soldier,” the voice says.

Cody wakes.

.

The next day ARC trooper Fives is declared a traitor.

[fanficimagery]

Girl in the Painting

After taking a closer look at Xavier's paintings, Wednesday realizes he wasn't having dreams of her at all. But she does know the girl in the paintings and she's decided that this one good deed shouldn't kill her.

Words: 6.6K Author's Note: Wednesday AU. I'm well aware Xavier never had dreams of Wednesday; he just painted her because he'd seen her and "instantly fell in love". For this, however, I'm saying he's dreamt of her, possibly even before she showed up to Nevermore, and she realizes later on she was never actually the center of his dreams. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of past attempted sexual assault. It's brief.

As the students of Nevermore are packing up and readying themselves for their trips home, a group of girls are sitting around the charred fountain in the courtyard.

"So what are your plans for summer?" Bianca asks, fingers skimming the water. The dark skinned siren smiles when Enid blushes prettily, her gaze immediately darting to the ever stoic Wednesday. She's been wondering, as of late, if Enid's feelings towards Wednesday were leaning towards romantic rather than platonic.

"Going to Wednesday's home," Enid finally says. "Gonna spend a couple of weeks with the Addams' family."

"Yeah? I didn't think our resident living dead girl was into slumber parties."

"It's going to be a blast," Wednesday deadpans. Yoko chuckles, sipping on whatever concoction she's mixed up that satiates her bloodlust. "You two are more than welcome. Apparently the more, the merrier."

"Sorry," Yoko muses, "but the coven's gonna travel all summer. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Mmm. And as much as I'm loving the new attitude, I got some things to take care of before we come back to Nevermore," Bianca says, her silver eyes glowing just the faintest. She really couldn't wait until she finished this favor for her mother and her new creep of a husband. "Besides, I can't be seen painting the nails of the girl responsible for my break-up with Xavier so soon. I at least gotta make it seem like I've made you sweat."

Wednesday just blinks at Bianca's reasoning, but Enid frowns. "Wait, what? I thought you broke up because Xavier was being his emo artistic self?"

Yoko grins around the straw of her drink. "She wishes."

"I actually found a sketch of Wednesday in his journal before I even knew who Wednesday was," Bianca confesses. "Here. Look." She takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her pictures. "I snapped a pic to see what I could find out online, but shockingly nothing was solved until Wednesday showed up here."

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation."

"Yep. Sounds like you," Bianca says. "Look. See? He drew this before you even stepped foot behind Nevermore's gates."

Wednesday takes the phone and Enid leans closer to take a look. Both girls scrutinize the sketch, both equally baffled to see who everyone has assumed was Wednesday herself smiling. But just as Wednesday is about to hand the phone back, something catches her eye and she brings the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it.

"I can see why you thought this was me," Wednesday says, "but I assure you, it is not me who's apparently caught Xavier's fancy."

"No?" Bianca huffs. "Sure as hell looks like you."

Yoko nods. "Could have fooled me."

"I thought it was me as well, but this sketch proves me wrong. Look here." Wednesday zooms in on the picture, focusing on the right eyebrow. "You see that scar? I don't have it."

Bianca stares before rolling her eyes and reclaiming her phone. "So Xavier gives you a flaw and you immediately don't think it's you?"

"It is not a flaw. It's a sign of strength." Bianca, and the ever-smiling Enid and Yoko frown at the tone Wednesday has now taken on and the steely glint in her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"A couple of years ago, me and my siblings decided to walk into town after a tiring day at school. A group of older teenage boys cornered us down an alley, and they held me and Pugsley back while making us watch as they tore at the clothes on my sister's back. They mocked her tears and promised that whatever they did to her, no one would believe her since even our sheriff hated outcasts like us. They wanted to break her because we were different. But in a bout of bravery that I will forever be proud of her for, she took the small blade our uncle Fester gifted her and stabbed one of her attackers. In return, they hit her in the face with half a brick and fled with their friend."

"Shit." Bianca blinks in surprise. "Is your sister okay?"

"She's fine. They only left her with a scar and a fear of normies. She used to have the social personality that Enid possesses, but now she haunts the halls of our home rather than leaving it. I tried to get her to attend Nevermore, but even I failed in doing so. Xavier's sketch though, it shows her smiling. That tells me she will be okay."

"So… Xavier only thinks he's infatuated with you?" Yoko wonders.

"It appears so. But if I can manage to get him to my home, maybe he'll see for himself it wasn't me he was having dreams of."

Bianca huffs a laugh. "Sounds fun. Now I'm really glad I can't make it to your slumber party. The breakup is still too fresh to see him fawning over someone else. Maybe the time away will do me some good."

"This sounds like my kind of drama." Yoko sighs wistfully. "Too bad I'll have to miss it."

"Yes, well, Xavier did gift me this phone." Wednesday pulls out a sleek iPhone. "Perhaps if I had your number, I could text you updates. Or death threats."

"Done and done. Gimme." Yoko happily takes Wednesday's phone, typing her information into it. Then taking a selfie, she hands the phone to Bianca who does the same, but makes sure Wednesday understands that she doesn't want any updates.

"We're going to have so much fun!" Enid happily bounces in place, accepting Wednesday's phone to type in her own information. "I can't wait to meet your family."

At 001 Cemetery Lane, a gothic looking manor stands tall and proud behind a sentient gate.

With your fingers running through the dust along the wall, you quietly walk down the hallway as your sister's friend can be heard babbling on and on. Enid Sinclair had shown up only a couple of days ago, her bubbly personality breathing life into your usually dark home. You'd have kept your distance had you not learned she was from Nevermore, but upon learning she was a werewolf, you found yourself leaving your room while there was a guest in your home.

Halfway down the staircase, the doorbell ominously tolls and Lurch appears from the next room over to answer it. You freeze, wondering who would dare walk up to your house.

Lurch opens the door and your breathing ceases for a moment at the sight of a teenage boy standing there. He's around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, and he sheepishly runs a hand through his chin length hair.

"Hey, uh, is Wednesday home?" He's staring up at Lurch who's towering over him, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his coat which seem to be torn on one arm. Lurch turns and looks up at you, and you startle when the boy's gaze lands on you. His brow furrows before he smiles. "Hi. I, uh, I think your gate tried to eat me."

Your lips faintly twitch and your heart rate starts to slow. If he knows Wednesday and isn't freaking out too much about Gate, there's a good chance he's from Nevermore as well. "He's temperamental. You need to be quick to avoid his swing." Then without waiting for a response, you turn around and call out, "Wednesday! There's a boy at the door for you."

A small weight lands on your shoulder and you grin at the sight of Thing. He trembles excitedly, tapping and pointing and making gestures as you giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey Thing! Long time no see." When you glance back at the door, the boy is now inside your home with the door shut behind him and Lurch nowhere to be found. Thing scrambles off your shoulder and rushes towards the boy, and it's not until the boy squats down to fist bump Thing that you catch yourself admiring how cute the boy is. Immediately you shut that thought down and wipe any form of amusement from your expression. Then when the boy glances back at you, he stands tall and smiles yet again. "I'm Xavier Thorpe," he then introduces himself.

"YN," you deadpan. You hear Wednesday's nearly silent footfalls behind you and nod at him before you take a step back up the staircase. "Enjoy your stay here. Don't touch Mother's plants. They bite."

As you turn around, you're unsurprised to find Wednesday looking right at you. Her eyebrow twitches, your eyes narrow, and you clasp your hands behind your back before marching back up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, Enid is practically beaming at you. "He's cute. Right?"

"Ask my sister. He's her guest."

"What? They're not-"

But you pay her no mind and trace your steps back to your room.

At the bottom of the staircase, Xavier watches as Wednesday's sister disappears. "How long have you known?" He asks.

"That it was my sister you've been having dreams of and not me?" He gives her a deadpan stare and Wednesday nearly smiles. "Only since our last day at Nevermore. Bianca showed me the first picture you ever drew and the scar in her eyebrow tipped me off. You're welcome."

Enid skips down the stairs, sighing as she approaches her friends. "Well you're going to have your work cut out for you, Xavier. She thinks you're here for Wednesday."

"Technically, I am." He shrugs.

"And now you're here for her," Wednesday says. "Protect her heart. You so much as bruise it and I'll dissect yours."

Xavier blinks in shock and Enid giggles, skipping to his side and hooking her arm with his. "Let the wooing begin."

Over the past couple of days, you keep your distance from Wednesday's friends. You've heard them around the house, sure, but only managed to really be in the same room as them when you all had dinner as a family. You always sat between Wednesday and Pugsley, across from Enid and Xavier, but your eyes never strayed too far from your plate.

One morning, you have the urge to visit what used to be your favorite part of the manor.

The sunroom towards the back of the manor used to be your space- filled with vibrant flowers, plants, and vines and even a small fountain in the corner. But ever since the incident, you've tried to find solace in the one place you loved, only to have everything you touch wilt right before your very eyes. And now- now the sunroom is filled with black and gray and brown plants.

Finding what used to be a rose, your mother's favorite flower, you pick it up and gently cradle it in the palms of your hands. One of its petals crumbles beneath the pad of your thumb and it takes everything in you to not cry.

"I was wondering where you've been sneaking off to." The voice startles you and you turn to see Xavier standing under the archway of the entrance. His hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head, a few strands left loose, and you quickly squash down the thought that he looks really cute like this. "Sorry," he then apologizes. "I thought you would have heard my footsteps."

"...no worries."

You turn back around, gently laying the dead flower back down. Exhaling softly, you then move towards the door leading outside, unsurprised when you hear footsteps following you. "So this place is… awesome."

You huff a laugh, stopping just inside the door and only peering outside towards the family cemetery. "Believe it or not, it wasn't always like this. I used to be able to breathe life into this room."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Now everything I touch seems to die."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Take a look around, Mr. Thorpe. I did this." Xavier takes a look around, frowning and trying to understand you. Exhaling softly again, you paste on a friendly grin and turn to face him. "If you're looking for my sister, she and Enid have Uncle Fester in the electric chair up in the attic."

He barks out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"He loves it." You shrug. Then as you're walking away, you say, "Fair warning; if Uncle Fester tells you to pull his finger, don't."

"Why? Because his farts are killer?"

"No. Because he'll electrocute you."

You leave Xavier chuckling in your wake, finding it a little easier to be in your sister's friends presence.

Then two days later, it's your turn to find Xavier in the sunroom. His hair is back in the little knot that you couldn't stop staring at, dressed in paint splattered clothes as he stands in front of an easel.

When he catches sight of you, he offers you a smile before he focuses on his canvas once more. You continue walking closer and when he doesn't say anything, you walk around to see what he was inspired to paint. Surprisingly, it's a black and white portrait of your sister sitting behind her cello mid-stroke.

"Oh wow," you breathe in awe. "Xavier, this is amazing."

"You think so?"

When you chance a glance at him and notice the faint pink surrounding his cheek bones, you smile genuinely at him. "Of course. You're really talented."

"Glad you think so." Xavier steps back, looking at his work as he stands side by side with you. "Wednesday, uh, she played the cello one night and it was amazing. No one thought her capable of it."

"Why? Because she's death incarnate?"

Xavier chuckles, bashfully averting his gaze. "Something like that." Then looking at the painting once more, he says, "Your mother saw one of my pieces at Nevermore and asked if I could recreate it so she could hang it here."

You nod in understanding, unable to tear your eyes away from the way Xavier has captured your sister. Then right before your eyes, the painting slowly comes to life- Wednesday's bangs blowing in the wind, one hand pushing and drawing the bow across the cello strings as the other holds down certain strings in a muted song.

You quietly gasp, eyes widening in surprise. You watch in awe before turning towards your companion, only to find him holding his hand out towards the painting with his eyes closed. "Oh." You utter in realization. "You're gifted and then you're literally gifted."

Xavier's eyes open and he nods, eyes sparkling. "I have the gift of animation."

"Marvelous."

You continue staring at the painting, finding the foundation of your walls quaking and feeling a bit more comfortable in the presence of the boy who has decided to share his power with you.

You're so used to sitting between your siblings at dinner that you're thrown for a loop when you find Enid in your usual place. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, but Enid and Pugsley merely smile while Wednesday arches an eyebrow at you.

Xavier fidgets nervously in his chair, smiling sheepishly at you. "Come on. I don't bite," he muses as he gestures to the empty seat.

Against your will, you blush.

"Pity," Wednesday drawls. "I think my sister would have quite liked that."

"Wednesday!" Your mortification makes Enid giggle. You nervously take your seat before your father takes your mother's hand, pressing kisses to the back of her hand and all the way up her arm where he then proceeds to mockingly bite her. "Oh my god. You're all so embarrassing."

"They're cute." Enid beams at your parents' affectionate behavior.

"Someone drown me," you mumble.

"Only after dinner," your mother says.

Xavier snorts and you briefly flash him a grin before fiddling with your utensils.

Lurch brings the food out, everyone having a pasta dish with the exception of Enid who'd been brought out a medium-rare steak. You quietly dig in, gaze darting from person to person as the conversation flows around you.

Eventually, when the dessert is brought out, Enid addresses the younger crowd.

"So the cinema is playing a werewolf movie and I really want to go see it and make fun of it. Is anyone else interested in going?"

"Sure." Xavier shrugs. "Sounds fun."

Wednesday sighs. "If I must."

"I have plans with Thing," Pugsley says, smiling apologetically at Enid.

All eyes turn towards you and you fight the urge to shrink in your seat. You gulp, but before you can come up with an excuse to not have to leave your house, your mother is urging you to go. "It sounds like fun, sweetheart. Surely you'd love to go with your sister and friends."

"I-"

It's been years, darling," your father says. "I think it's time to get back out there. You're not that naive little girl anymore, mija."

You let your mouth close, everyone ignoring Xavier's, "Am I missing something?"

Wednesday's giving you her usual deadpan stare whereas Enid is smiling and nodding, encouraging you to go. Both your parents are smiling, anticipating your answer, but what makes you cave is the fact that a part of you actually wants to go. You want to be somewhat of a normal teenager, being out and about with your sister, Enid, and a cute boy.

Reluctantly, your shoulders sag and you give a nod. "Fine. I'll make an attempt."

"I'll take it!" Enid blurts.

Wednesday looks pleased with your answer and you finish the rest of dinner without uttering another word.

Then the next evening, you're being picky about what outfit you should wear. You'd taken to wearing different shades of black and gray, but tonight you want to look good. All your dresses and skirts are out of the question, and eventually you settle on a pair of burgundy plaid leggings and a black sweater crop top. You fix your hair to your liking and then slip your feet into a pair of black combat boots before lacing them up tightly. Then deeming yourself ready, you shove your phone, cash, and ID into a miniature backpack that is adorned with skulls and crossbones.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally make your way downstairs.

Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are waiting for you, and when Wednesday sees you… a smile slowly blossoms as she takes you in.

"What are you-" Enid turns around and her jaw drops. Then she beams and practically hops in place in her excitement. "You're wearing something other than black!"

Xavier turns, his gulp very obvious. "Wow." You think he must've wanted to keep that to himself because he blushes and nervously runs a hand through his loose hair. "You, uh, you look nice."

You arch an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Thanks."

Walking past them, you walk outside to where Lurch is waiting by the car to drive you into town. He hums when he sees you and you wrinkle your nose at him as he opens the back door for you. You climb in to sit on the bench seat directly behind the driver's seat, holding in your surprise when Wednesday and Enid shove Xavier in right behind you. He practically falls into his seat, righting himself as smoothly as he can, and Wednesday and Enid take their seats across from you.

Enid and Xavier keep the conversation flowing with you and Wednesday occasionally humming in response.

After several long minutes of driving, Wednesday is instructing Lurch where to drop you all off. It's a couple blocks away from the cinema, but your sister apparently wants to go for a brief walk. Though the second your feet are on the pavement and Lurch drives away, you freeze.

"Hey. You okay?" Xavier asks.

Your hands are gripping the straps to your backpack and you gulp, subconsciously stepping closer to him when he gently touches your elbow. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on. Wednesday will leave us behind if we linger."

"Mhm."

Gently pulling on your arm, you stiffly follow Xavier. Your eyes are peeled for anyone staring, hands tightening on the straps of your bag. The only time you feel yourself exhaling with relief is when Xavier puts himself between you and the street, letting you take the part of the sidewalk that's closest to the buildings.

Enid and Wednesday are walking in front of you, elbows linked, and occasionally Enid giggles over her shoulder when she glances back at you. But you're too paranoid to pay her any mind and try to focus on the silent strength that Xavier is unknowingly offering up.

At the cinema, Enid asks for four tickets to the latest werewolf thriller, and she happily claps when Xavier pays for everyone. At the snack counter it takes everything in you to not bolt or hide out in the bathroom, but you shakily manage to retrieve your own cash to pay for some nachos and a drink.

So far no one's stared or shouted and you find yourself relaxing, especially when you take a seat in the movie room and everyone is paying attention to their people that they showed up with.

Sitting between Xavier and Wednesday, you find yourself breathing a little easier.

Enid has several hot dogs balancing on her lap, Wednesday is chewing on black licorice, and you and Xavier had the same idea to get nachos. He, however, also nabbed several boxes of candy and a bucket of popcorn.

"I hope you choke on a kernel," Wednesday says as she watches him stuff handful after handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You giggle, licking the cheesy goodness from your fingertips and sipping on your drink.

And halfway through the movie, you hear Xavier actually choke. A laugh slips out of your sister before her lips are pressed closed once more, and you offer Xavier your drink. Sharing a straw doesn't bother you, so you nod in reassurance as he stares at it.

For the rest of the movie, you and Xavier share your drink. And when you run out, he quickly leaves the darkness of the room to get you a refill.

After the movie, you're standing outside in front of the cinema as Enid talks about the horrible cosmetics they used to portray a werewolf. Wednesday is tapping away on her phone before she puts it away, cutting Enid off mid rant and giving her a nod. She squeals and happily claps her hand, and you stare at them in confusion.

"There's a fair going on," Wednesday says. "Enid wants to go."

You slowly tense up. "Oh."

The bubbly werewolf's smile falls. "But if that's too much for you, we don't-"

"No. It's fine," you assure her. Your hands are back to gripping the straps of your backpack. "We can- we can go."

Enid is back to happily clapping, but Wednesday curiously studies your demeanor. And when she sees you're not about to have a meltdown, she turns and follows after her friend.

"We can always hang out front of the fair if you really don't want to go in," Xavier says. You startle, somehow having forgotten he was there. "I don't mind waiting with you."

"It's okay. Really." Your smile is shaky as you look up at him. "Just, uh, maybe don't leave me alone in there?"

"Stick by your side. Got it." Xavier grins as he offers you his elbow and you're quick to latch on. "I'll even win you the ugliest prize we can find if you're up for it."

You chuckle and let him lead the way, occasionally glancing up at him. "Christ, I forget how tall you are sometimes."

"I'm not tall, you're just really small."

"Ha. Ha."

When you eventually make it to the fair, Xavier hesitates with you as you warily glance around. Then taking a deep breath, you press on and practically make yourself flush against his side. You walk around for a bit, smiling when you see Wednesday and Enid pass you by, Enid already holding tightly to a stuffed unicorn.

As you're walking around, your eyes are drawn back to a green and black dragon that's about half your size. Xavier must notice because he decides to try his hand at basketball in order to win the prize and it takes him four tries to win it.

You don't know what it is about Xavier that makes your guard start to drop, but you find yourself smiling and laughing a bit more easier. He tries winning a panda next, but in between his dart throwing, he notices as you keep your back to the game and are staring from side to side.

You're too distracted to notice he's watching you, your arms wrapped around your dragon as you nervously chew on the bottom corner of your lip. He sighs a little dejectedly, turning around so he can see where you're staring off to. "So who's the lucky guy… or girl?"

"Excuse me?" You look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You keep glancing around." He faintly grins. "Are you waiting for someone?"

You study his features, eyes subtly widening when you notice something. Was that- was that jealousy clouding his expression? "Wednesday didn't tell you," you then mumble in awe. You for sure thought he knew why you never left your home. After all, Enid did.

"Tell me what?"

You gulp, glancing at the carnie listening in to your conversation. "Let's go for a walk. I'll fill you in." Shakily exhaling, you gesture for Xavier to follow. Side by side, he walks with you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat. "A few years ago, Wednesday, Pugsley, and I were attacked by a group of normies. It… wasn't a pleasant experience for me and it's actually how I got this," you say while gesturing to the scar on your eyebrow. "They were ripping- uh, they were ripping off my clothes, so I stabbed one of them." Your breath hitches and when you chance a glance up at Xavier, you find that his jaw is clenched. "I stopped them from doing that to me, but they managed to hit me with a brick before they ran away."

You make it a few more steps before you're being tugged to a stop and then Xavier is walking to stand in front of you. Gently cupping one side of your face, you manage to hold back a flinch when his thumb brushes over your scar. "You're safe with me. You know that right?"

"I'm starting to realize that."

"That was a shit thing those normies did and I'll be damned if they do anything on my watch." When you meet his gaze, he offers you a small smile. "Now let's go win Wednesday the brightest stuffed animal we can find and make her take a picture with it."

Slowly smiling, you chuckle. "Okay."

And by the end of the night, you and Xavier have won the most terribly bright and fluffy stuffed animals, shoved them near Wednesday's face, and had Enid hurriedly snap a picture of your glaring sister.

You're smiling and skipping alongside Enid towards a waiting Lurch, laughing with all the stuffed animals crammed between your arms and bodies before crawling into the idling car.

For once, in a very long time, you've had fun and didn't worry about any normies looking in your direction.

Xavier's just got off the phone with his father when a familiar song being played on the cello draws him towards Wednesday's room. The door is open, the room is empty, but there's another door that leads out to a balcony.

Following the music, he's not surprised to find Wednesday playing Paint It Black while Thing turns the sheet music for her. Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Enid are also on the balcony, staring at something down below.

"What's going on?" He asks, stepping closer to the railing.

Enid glances at him, beaming. "Take a look for yourself."

Xavier glances down, gaze falling to the gazebo that's been strung up with white fairy lights. But what draws his attention is the twirling figure inside the gazebo, adorned in a black leotard and a multicolored tutu. His jaw subtly drops. "She dances?"

"She dances." He looks over at Morticia Addams, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's been years since she's put on her slippers though."

"This week and a half with you and Enid have brought our daughter back," Gomez says. "Thank you."

Paint It Black fades into Nothing Else Matters and a majority of the white lights darken into purple. Xavier is entranced by the way you twirl on the tips of your toes, the stretch of your neck whenever your head is thrown back, and the long stretch of your leg when you twirl on the tips of your toes only on one foot.

As the music fades out, Enid breaks out into applause.

Your head snaps up at the sound of clapping, chest heaving, and your face burns when you see everyone watching you. Your little brother whistles as he claps too, but it's your parents' beaming and tearful expressions that keeps you from fleeing. Well them and Xavier who looks more than a little awed.

So before you do take your leave, you give them a little bow and then rush back inside the house.

Sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunroom, you're staring at the lockscreen on your phone. You never saw when the picture was taken, but apparently Enid had been keeping tabs on you and Xavier when you were at the fair, and now it was one of your favorite pictures.

In the picture, you and Xavier are walking side by side, one of your arms wrapped around your stuffed dragon with the other arm looped through his. You're looking up at him and he down at you, both of you smiling. But what made you grin at the picture the most was the height difference between you and Xavier. Enid was spot on when she described you two as tall and smol.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you block out your screen and climb to your feet… and speak of the devil.

Xavier walks in, smiling. "Knew I'd find you here."

"Did you now?" Walking over to a bench seat, you gesture to the space beside you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were up to going into town. The cinema is showing this new cheesy horror flick and I thought you might be interested in going before my time here is up."

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Your heart starts to hammer in your rib cage. Could this be a- "Just us or are Enid and Wednesday waiting for us out front?"

"Just us?" His answer is more of a question, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you stare.

Eventually you grace him with a bashful smile. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Are- are we leaving now?"

"Yeah. We can, uh, window shop and all that fun stuff before the movie."

Warmth surges through you, at the thought that Xavier wants to spend time with just you. You're not sure if this is actually a date, but you're looking forward to one on one time without a family member lurking around the corner. "Alright. Let me just go get a bag." As you stand up to leave the room, a vine falls over the entrance. But not just any vine- a vibrant green vine that hadn't been there moments before.

"Huh." Xavier huffs. "That's the first colorful plant life I've seen in this room."

Your eyes widen and you glance all around the room, taking notice how the dead plant life isn't looking quite so dull anymore. "No way," you breathe in awe. Turning towards where the fountain sits, you rush over and pick up one of the dead water lilies. Cradling it in the palms of your hand, you notice a couple of changes in the once dead flower. Feeling Xavier walk up beside you, you ask, "Remember how I said I used to be able to breathe life into this place?"

"Yeah."

"Watch." Bringing the water lily closer to your face, you let your eyes fall shut as you inhale deeply. Then slightly pursing your lips, you blow out slowly and you can feel the water lily coming back to life right there in the palm of your hands.

"Wow." Your eyes open upon Xavier's exclamation. "And here I was thinking you had a green thumb or something. Not that you actually breathe life into them."

Huffing a laugh, you blink your tears away and gently lay the water lily back in the fountain. "I haven't been able to do this for years. I guess I had a mental block and then you- you and Enid show up and I feel more at peace than I have in a while." You step up on the side of the fountain then, turning towards Xavier as you smile. "Thank you." Then leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek.

He suddenly turns bashful, angling his face downward so his hair shields his blushing cheeks. "I never realized how small you were."

"Shut up. You're just freakishly tall."

As Xavier glances at you through his curtain of hair, you wrinkle your nose at him and then hop off the fountain siding less you do something to ruin the moment.

Like kiss him on the lips rather than the cheek.

Spending the day with Xavier alone goes so much better than you had expected, so much so that you find yourself incredibly sad the day he is set to leave. It was clear to your entire family that something had shifted between the two of you when you'd come back home, hand in hand with a never-ending blush staining both your cheeks.

Enid was more than ecstatic and Wednesday took to sharpening her short swords whenever possible.

You're in the sunroom, clipping roses with your mother when Xavier walks in. In hand, he has a covered canvas.

"I have something for you," he tells you. "But I'm sure your mom is going to take ownership of it after she sees what it is."

You smirk at him, setting down your clippers and walking over to him. Your mother isn't far behind. "Did you paint me something?"

"I did." His hands dig into his pockets after his hands are free when you take the gift from him. You stare at the covered canvas, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. "You inspired me the other night and I just had to capture the moment."

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing though you continue to smile, and pull the cover off your painting. Your mother's delighted gasp is what makes you glance down and you're struck speechless.

The painting… is of you.

Specifically you dancing in the gazebo with the only color in the painting being that of your tutu.

"Xavier, this is…" You trail off, staring in awe. A moment passes and he brings the painting to life. Your mother starts to clap, even more delighted now as the miniature version of you dances away. "This is amazing. Thank you."

"I must show your father. This is just splendid." Your mother takes the painting, but not before gently grazing her nails along Xavier's jaw and smiling at him. "Thank you, young Mr. Thorpe."

"Y-You're welcome, Mrs. Addams."

Your mother sighs wistfully before glancing at the painting and then leaves the two of you alone. As soon as she's out of your sight, your hands are reaching for the lapels of Xavier's coat, his hands are clinging to your waist, and he's leaning down to meet you in a kiss.

You giggle when his hair falls forward to tickle your face and it makes Xavier smile.

"We really should have started this sooner," he says as he hesitantly straightens himself out. "I'm gonna miss you while I'm at Nevermore."

"What if… what if you didn't have to miss me?" You ask, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles you'd made on his coat.

"What?"

"What if I came to Nevermore?" He's quiet a little too long for your liking and you start to feel like maybe you read too much into whatever you two were. "Or not. I just thought-"

"Are you kidding me?" You barely manage to hold back a wince and Xavier's sudden laugh has you wanting to crawl into a hole. But when you chance a glance up at him, his expression is not what you were expecting. He's actually excited! "You're going to Nevermore?!"

You shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Mom's been talking to Principal Weems. I have a meeting with her in a couple of days to see whether or not I'll be a good fit."

"Hell yes." His smile is boyish and you can't help but giggle. "You'll make it in. I know it."

"I hope so. I love my parents, but they're not the greatest of teachers."

"You're gonna love it. I can introduce you to my friends and show you all the cool hang out spots. We can-"

"Xavier. Xavier!" You laugh, trying to talk over his excitement. "We don't even know if I'll get in."

"I'm telling you, you will. And if Principal Weems denies you, I'm pretty sure Wednesday will bug her until she grants you a place at the school."

"Oh. I forgot what going to school with a sibling was like." This time, you do wince. "People are going to dread another Addams roaming the halls, aren't they?"

"Some will." He grins. "But once they get to know you, they'll grow to like you."

You sigh but end up shaking your head in amusement. "If I do get in, how shocked do you think everyone will be if Wednesday's sister shows up dressed like Enid?"

"You'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Do it."

"I will. Now come on. We got away with one kiss. I have a feeling if another happens, a dagger will whiz by out of thin air."

"Xavier." The boy in question flinches as your sister pops up out of nowhere. "Your ride's here. Stop sucking my sister's face and go home. You'll see her soon enough."

He rolls his eyes, even as you laugh in the face of your sister's glare. "Always a pleasant encounter, Wednesday."

"Not really."

He huffs and glances back down at you, his gaze falling to your lips. But before he can get carried away, Wednesday's grunting and dragging him away. "Okay. Okay!" He laughs.

"You're gross. I never should have introduced you two."

You follow after them, trailing behind until you're standing under the archway of your front door. Wednesday pushes him down the steps and he walks to the car that Lurch is putting his suitcases in. He offers you one last look, one last smile, and one last wave before climbing into the vehicle his father had sent for him.

Once the car drives out of the gate, Wednesday turns towards you. "Are you happy?"

"Uh, yes?"

She quietly groans. "And here I was preparing Enid to hide a body in the family cemetery. She'll be let down that all that studying was for naught."

You bark out a laugh. "Stop corrupting Enid, Wednesday."

"Never." Her lips twitch in amusement. "Now come on. Let's go visit Principal Weems."

"But my interview is still a couple days away."

"So? She needs to be kept on her toes. She'll have to grow used to having two Addams' in her school."

"If you say so."

"I do."

[hopepetal]

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Boatem Knights AU fic masterlist

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Reblogs and comments are much appreciated :)

@applestruda

“Impulse!”

“Scar!”

Cub scrambled forward, falling to his knees next to Scar's limp form. He wrapped his arms around Scar and pulled the other close. He carefully brushed a hand over Scar's face. “Scar? Scar, man, can you hear me? Scar?” His movements became more frantic with each passing moment, and he gently shook his friend. “Scar, c'mon. C'mon. Wake up.”

Pearl, still in her Watcher form, knelt by Impulse. Her hands ghosted over his body, finding his neck (he had a pulse, good), his forehead (no fever, though she wasn't sure what she was expecting), before she finally searched for magic. 

There was so much. 

It surrounded his body and wrapped around like chains. It stretched up toward his neck and wrapped around him like a collar, with another strand of magic connecting him to Grian. A quick glance told her Scar had similar magical bonds. If she looked more closely, she could see several more magic strands connecting to Grian, stretching out into the distance before fading away. 

Oh, void. 

Stay calm. Don't panic. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. In, out, in, out inoutinoutinoutin–

“Pearl? Pearl? Oh goodness, oh, I don't– Cub–!”

Warm hands took her own, Cub shifting out of his vex form as he knelt in front of her. “Hey, Pearl. Can you look at me?” Void black eyes met his. Cub smiled softly, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “Okay, good. Can we match our breathing? In… and out. In… and out. You're doing so well, Pearl. You're doing so well.”

Pearl slowly got her breathing under control. She felt her watcher form fall away, tears making tracks down her cheeks as she gazed at Cub. He was crying, too, though he made an effort to smile. “...I'm so sorry,” she sniffled, “I couldn't– I tried, I couldn't protect them…”

Cub nodded. His hands trembled slightly as he glanced over at Scar. “They're alive,” he whispered, as though speaking too loud would cause their sleeping friends to shatter. “They're alive.” It was a desperate mantra, a chant, a reminder to keep calm, don't break down, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay. 

Pearl swallowed thickly, blinking away tears that clumped her eyelashes together. “I know. I– I saw magic. It was like chains and they all connected to Grian. I…” 

Cub’s eyes widened. Pearl paused, leaning forward slightly. “Do you know what's happening?” she asked. 

Cub pressed his mouth into a thin line, nodding. “I think so. One moment…” He shifted into his vex form. His eyes glowed softly as he scanned Impulse and Scar's bodies. “...oh, no. Ohhhh, no.” He pushed his glasses up, sighing heavily. “I was right. They're in a shared dreamscape.”

Mumbo paled. “A what?” he asked, wringing his hands together. “Are they okay?”

Cub gave a helpless shrug. “I don't know, man. I don't know. But shared dreamscapes– basically, Grian's magic pulled them into his own dreams. Judging by the violent nature and everything that's been happening, I doubt it was his doing.”

Pearl nodded, trying to think. “Could I override Grian's magic with my own, then?” she suggested, wings fluttering softly behind her. “Do you think that would work?”

Cub shook his head. “Dreamscapes are tied to the soul, something we don’t really want to damage. It’s probably best not to attempt that.”

“Then what do we do?” Mumbo asked. “Just wait for them to wake up? It can't be that simple. Can it?” 

Cub shook his head. “Unfortunately, unless we find another way to wake them up, they'll remain in the dreamscape until…” He trailed off. The implication was clear. 

“We can't let that happen,” Pearl decided, the others nodding. “Cub, do you know anything else about the dreamscapes? Anything at all?”

Cub hummed thoughtfully, shifting back into his mortal form. “Long ago, there was a civilization that boasted superior knowledge of the dreamscapes and souls. It's where I've gotten all my information from– but given how remote and run down their temples are, not many people have tried to venture in.” 

Mumbo tilted his head. “I think I’ve heard of those before. Aren’t they… well, cursed?”

Cub sighed. “There are quite a few rumors of a curse surrounding these places. I’ve never been to one myself, but I have reason to believe these rumors are due to the incredible amount of ambient magic there. Stay in the area for too long and you’ll probably start hallucinating.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “The connection to the void in these places is strong. We don’t know enough about this civilization to be certain, but I have a few theories that the civilization worshiped the void.”

Mumbo frowned. “So this is the best shot we have for finding something to help our friends wake up?”

Cub nodded. “Like I said earlier, the amount of information we’ve retrieved from these places is minimal. There’s a good chance that you’ll be able to find something in one of these temples– anything would help. From there, we can try our best to work out a solution, but if we’re lucky we might just find one.”

“So we find one of these temples and look for answers, then. Do we know where they are?” Pearl asked. 

Cub chewed on his lower lip, thinking for a moment. “If I had a map of the realm, I could probably give you a rough estimate of where one is. They were pretty secretive about where their temples were, but I got my hands on some books that helped me piece together where the main ones were. I believe the closest one would be about a week's journey from here.” 

“That’s wonderful and all, but, uh, we should probably–” Mumbo gestured at their fallen friends– “probably get them somewhere more… comfortable? Before we continue, I mean. It can't be too nice sleeping on the ground. Or healthy. I mean… yeah,” he finished awkwardly. 

Pearl and Cub stood, the former nodding along to Mumbo's words. “Good idea. Should we move them all into Grian's tent, do you think? It has the most space.” She turned to Cub, wordlessly asking for his opinion. 

Cub nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. We'll move some bedding in there first, and from what I've seen there will still be enough room for us to sorta move around, y'know?” 

Mumbo and Pearl nodded in sync, and the three began to move. It was a quiet task as they worked through the numbness that had settled within them as the panic slowly left. Every now and again, Pearl would sniffle softly, Cub would choke back tears, and Mumbo would mumble something under his breath. They felt hollow. Just this morning, things had been fine– as fine as they could've been, at least– and now they were down three knights, and void knows who else was affected by Grian's magic. 

Once they finished setting up the bedding, it was time to move Impulse and Scar. “I got him,” was all Cub said before he went vex and hoisted Scar up in a bridal carry. 

Mumbo glanced up at Pearl from where he stood next to Impulse. “I, uh– I don't. Got him, that is. If you couldn't tell.”

Pearl gave him a weary smile. “You got his legs, then?” She knelt by Impulse, sliding her arms under his back and shoulders. It was nice to see how much he had improved since the incident several months ago– when they'd first rescued him and brought him back, he'd been starved and fatigued, and had lost quite a bit of weight. He'd slowly regained his strength as he healed, and trained himself back up to where he'd been before. Pearl was proud of him for this. Even if it meant he was a little more difficult to pick up and maneuver. 

“Alright.” Mumbo got himself situated. “We lift on three. One, two, three!” With a soft grunt, he carefully helped Pearl lift up Impulse. Slowly, they brought him into Grian's tent and lowered him down onto the bedding they'd placed.

Cub looked up from where he had knelt by Scar, brushing the other's hair out of his face with a gentle hand. “All good?” he asked, humming softly when he received confirmation. “Okay. Do you have a map of the realm?” 

Pearl thought for a moment. “Mm, I think I should have one in my tent. I'll be right back.” She ducked out of Grian's tent, jogging over to her own and quickly digging through her storage. She easily found what she was looking for– pros of an organized storage system– and hurried back to Grian's tent with the map in hand. “Here.” She handed it to Cub, who unfurled it on the ground. 

“Oh! And!” Mumbo handed him a pen. “So you can mark it down,” he explained. 

Cub tapped the pen twice against a point on the map. “This is where we are right now, you see?” He traced the pen over the map. “And this is where I live. So you're going to start your journey as if you're heading to my place, and then…” He carefully drew the pen across the paper. “You'll be traveling through a forest, then a plains area, before running into a village. I recommend leaving your horses there– you'll be heading almost immediately into a thick jungle. I imagine it'll be about a day's travel before you reach the temple, but it could be more if you get caught up in something.”

Pearl exchanged glances with Mumbo. She reached up to nervously fiddle with the red crystal that hung on a string around her neck– it had become a bit of a nervous fidget for her over the past few months. “And this is the only lead we have. To fixing this whole thing,” she confirmed, frowning slightly at Cub's nod. “I hate to put all our diamonds in one chest, but if it's all we have, then we have to try.”

Mumbo nodded as well. “Yeah. I don't– we can't just sit around and do nothing. That would be absolutely bonkers.”

Cub nodded. “I feel like it could go unsaid, but I'll be staying here to watch over these three. If anything happens, I'll do what I can to help. And of course, I'll be protecting them and keeping them as physically healthy as I can.”

Pearl let out a shaky sigh. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. Cub, mate, I don't know what we'd do without you.”

“Scar's my friend too, Pearl,” Cub gently reminded her. “I know him better than anyone else. I have to look out for him.”

“Of course,” Pearl quickly responded, “I just– still. Thank you.”

Mumbo nodded. “Yeah, mate. You've really done so much, without you we wouldn't have our only lead.”

Cub frowned, anxiety shining in his eyes. “It may not lead you to anything of value,” he admitted, “but it's the only thing I know of that could possibly be of help. Other than traveling into the dreamscape itself, which would be a last resort if anything. Outside interference tends to change the dreamscape, and that could end up damaging not only their souls, but yours as well.”

Pearl hummed softly. “It makes me feel a little better, knowing we have a last resort at all. Two options are better than one.”

“Right on,” Mumbo agreed. “Though, it's still quite nerve-wracking, isn't it?”

Pearl let out a breathy laugh. “Just a bit.”

Cub smiled gently. “It's going to be alright, you two. Now…” He turned back to the map. “Where was I… the jungle. I've traveled this far, went right up to the village. The only reason I'm really giving any credit to this option at all is because I sensed a strong source of magic in the jungle. I wasn't able to make it there, but I know…” He tapped the pen against the map before circling an area. “The temple should be around here. Pearl, you'll be able to see the magic as a Watcher, I'd imagine, so I'm not too worried about you two getting lost. It'll still be quite the long journey, and you may run into danger along the way.” Mercenaries went unsaid. 

“I won't let anyone hurt you,” Pearl promised Mumbo. “We'll be alright. Even if we're down three knights, we're still strong. We're still– we're still knights.”

Cub handed the map to Pearl, giving her a weary smile. “I recommend you start packing for the journey. It's going to be a long one, and you'll need to be well prepared.”

Pearl and Mumbo nodded, both standing up. Pearl carefully pocketed the map as Mumbo ducked out of the tent. She glanced back at their sleeping friends before exiting the tent. 

It was quiet in camp, quieter than it had been in quite some time. As the adrenaline from earlier began to wear off, the weight of their situation truly began to settle on the three still awake. 

Pearl's hands shook as she carefully packed medical supplies. What if they never wake up? 

Cub hesitated as he carefully wrote notes about the sleeping knights' health. What if he made a mistake that he couldn't fix?

Mumbo tried to stay calm as he worked on sorting items to take for the journey. What if his lack of strength caused them to fail?

It took the two knights about an hour to finish gathering everything they'd need for the journey, and by then the sun was beginning to set. Mumbo took Pearl's hand and led her to where they always sat and watched the day give way to night. The two stood, silent and grieving, and Pearl wished she could wrap a wing around Mumbo and hold him close. She settled for giving his hand a slight squeeze, returning the teary-eyed smile he gave with one of her own. 

“It'll be okay,” she whispered. “It has to be, eventually.”

Mumbo nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I certainly hope so.”

The two slept in Pearl's tent that night, desperate for the comfort of each other's presence, clinging to the familiarity that they had come so close to losing altogether. Their sleep was dreamless, and they woke up with the sun the next day. 

“Good luck,” Cub wished them, pressing a potion of health into Pearl's hands and one of regeneration into Mumbo's. “Be safe.”

“You, too,” they responded in sync, unable to hold back smiles at that. 

Pearl quickly ducked into Grian's tent to check on her brother (his fever had gone down, at least) and say goodbye. Then it was time to leave, and the two knights mounted up. 

“I don't know if it's just me,” Mumbo pointed out as they rode out from their home, “but we seem to be a magnet for trouble.”

Pearl let out a weary chuckle. “Nah, it's not just you. Never a dull moment around here, is there?”

“You could say that again,” Mumbo muttered. 

Silence fell over the two, the only sound being the horses' hooves against the ground and the soft chirping of the early morning birds. Pearl couldn't help but be reminded of Grian, with how he would sometimes instinctively respond to the birds with little chirps and trills. 

Mumbo seemed to notice how the mood sombered. He delicately cleared his throat. “Weather's been nice, lately,” he said quite awkwardly, and Pearl started giggling. “What? I was just– I was trying to lighten the mood, is all! It's good to try and keep our spirits up!” 

Pearl shook her head, blinking away tears as she laughed. “No, no, thank you, I just wasn't expecting that. Consider the mood successfully lightened.” 

Refusing to just wait around and hope for the best, the two knights began their journey. 

“The king has collapsed!” 

Doc strode through the palace halls, following the harried footsteps of the servant. “Tell me more,” he instructed briskly. “What happened?”

“The king, his advisor, and the head of the royal guard have all collapsed after an extreme magic surge that broke past all warding sigils. The royal medic and magical specialist are on their way,” the servant explained quickly, panting slightly. 

“And who else is aware of this?” Doc pressed, rounding the corner with the servant. Up ahead was the door that led to the main meeting room, and the servant paused before entering. 

“Only those I listed, sir. As well as you and I.” Their eyes flicked nervously up to Doc's before they quickly looked away. “I'm magically sensitive, sir. I was nearby when I felt the surge.” 

Doc nodded curtly. “Listen here. You will tell no one about this,” he instructed. “If word got out that three high ranking officials– including the king himself– had collapsed after a possible terrorist attack, there would be chaos. You will be compensated as necessary.”

The servant's eyes widened as they shook their head. “Oh, no sir. I don't need compensation. Just… is his majesty… will he be alright?”

“Only one way to find out.” Doc pushed the door to the meeting room open. 

Just as the servant had told him, the three had collapsed. Martyn's nose was bleeding slightly, likely from the extreme amount of magic that had been involved in the attack. Ren had slumped over in his chair, and BigB had fallen to the floor beside Ren's chair. 

Doc strode over to Ren. He gripped the king’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. “Hey. Hey, man. Wake up.” He heard a soft, shocked inhale come from the servant, likely at the casual form of address he used with Ren. They had dropped the formalities with each other a long time ago, becoming close friends as Doc advised him and helped work on inventions together. 

“Sir, I don't think…” the servant began hesitantly, “I don't think they're going to wake up. Whatever magic that caused this is strong. I can't tell any more than that.”

Just in time, the magic specialist burst in through the door, followed closely by the royal medic. From there on out things became a blur. Ren, Martyn, and BigB were moved to the private infirmary, and Doc eventually found himself standing in front of the council. 

“As of right now, the king is incapacitated. As your acting regent, I will take his majesty's place.” Murmurs of assent and concern rose from the council, but Doc quieted them with a raised hand. “All you need to know is that the king is alive and healthy. I’m sure you’re all aware that the public must not know of this. There would be chaos, and we cannot afford for the kingdom to be in disarray at a time like this.”

The meeting concluded shortly after, and Doc left to go check in with the royal medic and magic specialist. “How are they?” he asked quietly, glancing over at his friends' sleeping forms. 

The magic specialist pursed their lips, before sighing. “I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. The magic used is more powerful than anything I've ever seen. As of right now, they are unharmed, but have effectively been put into eternal slumber.”

Doc frowned. “And is there anything we can do to help them?”

“Keep them under close watch. I'll continue to carefully study the magic affecting them, and call in those from the guild who specialize in these kinds of spells. Other than that…” The magic specialist shook their head, shrugging slightly. “All we can do is wait.”

The forest was unusually quiet as the queen of the fae stepped out from the shadows. She had been drawn to her husband by a sudden surge of foreign magic. Looking around, Lizzie was quick to find Joel. He lay on the ground, limp, surrounded by his dogs. 

Geraldine, who was pressed up against Joel's side whimpering and nudging him gently with her nose, looked up at Lizzie. She wagged her tail once, twice, before nuzzling against Joel's side with a whine. 

Lizzie quickly made her way to Geraldine, flowers blooming at her feet as she walked. “Oh, Joel…” She knelt by him and gently felt his forehead, then glanced over at Geraldine. “What happened?” she asked, and brought her hands up to rest against Geraldine's soft fur. “Tell me, my darling.”

Geraldine closed her eyes, and Lizzie saw. 

She saw Joel walking through the forest. She saw magic, surrounding him and binding him, pulling him to the ground. Her heart ached at his fear, at the expression of terror on his face right before he collapsed. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered. Tears made warm tracks down her face as she pulled herself from the memory, “I couldn't protect you.”

Geraldine whimpered, placing her head in Lizzie's lap. Lizzie gently stroked her soft fur as she took deep breaths. “Good girl,” she murmured. “Thank you for staying by him.” She carefully picked her husband up, closing her eyes and bowing her head. 

In a flash of light and shower of flower petals, Lizzie and Joel, as well as his animals, disappeared. Whisked away to the fae realm, where Lizzie could keep them safe, and wait out whatever curse had taken her beloved. 

Iskall had been cleaning the counters when three of his patrons– one of his best friends included– collapsed after a rather terrifying explosion of magic. Dropping the rag they had been using, Iskall ran to where they had fallen. “Etho!” He grabbed his friend's shoulder and roughly shook him. “Etho, are you–?” They cut themselves off. Carefully, they turned Etho over and checked for a pulse. 

Okay, good. He had one. Now for the other two– Cleo and Bdubs, Etho had introduced them to him earlier. They had pulses too. That… was good. Okay. 

What now?

“I should move them somewhere more private,” Iskall muttered to themselves. “Yeah. Good idea.” 

It certainly took more than a little effort to move all three to a room– thankfully, there was an open one on the first floor, and Iskall heaved a sigh of relief when they had gotten everyone settled in a bed. “Now… what do I do?” they asked no one in particular, before sighing. “Probably call a doctor. I'm not qualified for this.” 

In the end, all Iskall could do was wait. 

Zedaph was having… a day.

He would've called it a good day on any other occasion. Skizz had found him! Somehow, the mountain guide had managed to track him down and bust into his super secret science spot, which Zed swore he'd hidden quite well. No matter. Skizz was a friend!

A very angry friend, who, given what he was ranting about, had a very good cause to be upset. 

Something had happened with Impulse– a demon had possessed him, apparently, and had come very close to dying. When Pearl (one of Impulse's new friends, Skizz had explained) sent out letters contacting the rest of Team Z.I.T.S, Zedaph had never gotten his. Most likely because he practically lived in a cave, hidden away from the world. 

(Tango had lived in a cave, too, but he had recently moved in with a friend after a creeper incident.)

“And look, man,” Skizz was saying, talking more with his hands than anything, “I'm all for living out in nature. But c'mon. We needed you!”

“I'm sorry,” Zedaph apologized, “but everything's fine now, right? Impulse is alive and safe?”

Skizz hesitated. “Yeah, he is. But I'm still mad at you, because that was a real jerk move of you. Y'know, the rest of us kept in contact! Somewhat! You just dropped off the map to do your crazy… experiments!”

“It's not crazy, it's science.”

“Oh, you–”

And then there was magic, purple and screaming and swirling around Skizz. Zedaph felt something tug at his core, but it slipped away before it took hold. Skizz wasn't as lucky, and collapsed. 

Then there was silence.

Zedaph blinked. “Oh, that's fascinating.” And slightly concerning. Actually, mostly concerning, if he thought about it.

He should get Skizz some blankets. He didn’t want one of his friends sleeping on the floor, after all!

“Alright, you two, follow me…”

Jimmy and Tango did as Scott instructed, walking down a carefully manicured path to the large structure in Scott's yard. They'd come to buy flowers for their place in the city– it would liven the place up, Jimmy had promised, so Tango had reluctantly agreed to come along. Scott grew flowers as a hobby, so they'd made the trip to his cottage. 

They stepped into the greenhouse, Scott closing the door behind them. “Come right this way. Did you have any preference on the type of flower, colour, size…?” 

Jimmy shook his head. “Probably shouldn't be too big, though. I'm not trying to grow a whole tree here.”

Scott laughed. “Shame. Trees are quite lovely this time of year.”

“With how often Sparky over here starts, well, sparking, I don't think trees would be a good idea.” Jimmy nudged Tango, who groaned. 

“I don't spark that much! And things don't catch fire, Jimmy!” he protested. 

Jimmy was about to respond when he felt a sudden surge of… was that Grian's magic? “Hold on, what–”

Pain flared in his head, and Jimmy cried out. Tango called his name, but Jimmy couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. He felt blood trickle from his nose, and then…

Magic.

He barely had time to cry out Tango's name before something tugged on his core, and Jimmy collapsed. The other two soon followed. 

Three fell asleep in a flowerbed, untouched and unseen, with only the flowers as witness.

[ween-kitchens]

I believe you (i'm not wrong)

2042 words

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

this will make no sense if you don't know this au, and it is so self indulgent, but it's easier to format fics on tumblr than on discord GKFHD

anyway this is an au that me and stiff came up with and then made increasingly more angsty. this is the happiest part of the whole plotline if you can believe it

cw: panic attack, hurt/comfort

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

she could bother joel. hypothetically speaking, gem could go up the mountain and knock on his door and awkwardly explain at three in the morning why she can’t sleep and that she needs his help, but- void, there is nothing she wants to do less right now. she loves joel- really, and it's more than likely that he'd be pretty helpful actually. it's- it's just too much right now. gem would rather build her problems away.

it takes longer than it probably should have done for gem to realise that her hand is bleeding, but she can’t be bothered to do anything about it; it doesn’t hurt much. besides, it's just another scar to add to the list of silly accidents she's had while building—like that time she almost took her finger off because she wasn't paying attention when she was dismantling some iron bars with less care than she should have been.

wiping sweat off her forehead, gem steps back for a second, taking in her work. her very wonky work. void, gem really needs to sleep soon, but there's no way that's happening without at least four nightmares, regardless of how much she tries to keep her mind occupied by something else. it's all she can think about- she's barely even done anything, despite 'building' for at least six hours now. the wood is unevenly cut, the moss is slowly dropping chunks into the sand from the roof, and the whole house looks like it's about to collapse on itself. that's- okay, that's the look she was going for, but it was meant to be structurally sound in actuality.

this was a bad idea- building a town that reminds her so damn much of where she grew up. it wasn't- it's not like gem really thought it through until it was too late to change her theme, and now she's kind of stuck. how in- anyone's name did she not even realise what she was building until after the nightmares started again?

.. don't answer that, actually. she doesn’t want to know.

maybe if gem sits down here, she'll fall asleep before she can start thinking about.. anything she doesn’t want to be thinking about. it feels like her limbs are made of lead, and gem has begun to debate on which sleep deprivation is worse: the exhausted building or the nightmares. maybe she'll flip a coi- what the fuck was that.

a figure- there's something- it's coming-

she hasn't- why the fuck didn’t she sleep- she knows what happens if she doesn’t sleep. can it reach her? can it make it onto the sand- can it outrun her? what if- what if it can walk, and she just never- gem never knew because she only encountered it whilst sailing but- she's endangered the whole server because of her stupid mistake-

stealing a glance behind her, gem's heart drops into the abyss- it's gaining on her. she's dead, she's going to die, she's doomed everyone, there's no escape-

something grabs her arm.

a strangled scream forces itself out of her tattered lungs, and she swings- desperation flooding her mind. she's gone- she's going to die- she's going to die-

"gem! please- it's me! it's me."

she opens her eyes, breaths still tearing their way through her throat, and- when did she get on the floor? her vision swims, body shaking too violently to steady herself and she thinks she must be drowning. there's a figure above her- there's- there's something above her.

her hands are numb and she's shaking and she's on the floor and she's not drowning, but she may as well be because she can’t fucking breathe. she's going to die and she's going to deserve it- she's- it's all- there's nothing left-

someone is holding her hands. she is having a panic attack and someone is holding her hands. she's not dying- she wishes she was dead. why would- who is- where is she? who is talking?

there's- there's her name. she feels like she's falling, but someone is talking and holding her hands and she's not drowning. did she- did she break something? was it her fault? she didn’t mean to.

a hand- a thumb against her face. gem was- she is crying. her vision is clearing but nothing will process and she just- she just wants to go home. she doesn't have a home anymore. she broke her home.

she didn't mean to. she's sorry- she just wanted to fix it. she's sorry. she is breathing, and she's not drowning, and she's not dying. right? is- is she right?

"right." there's a voice, and it sounds like home. she is crying again. "you’re okay."

no that's- she's not- she can’t be okay, ever again- she ruined it. there's nothing- she can’t- there's nothing left. she broke it- she ruined it. she's sorry.

her hands are warm. someone is holding her hands, and she's breathing and she's not drowning. there's a figure in front of her- there's scar in front of her.

"i’m sorry." gem's voice is sore, and comes out quieter than she expected it to. she's not drowning. "I never- i’m so sorry."

scar is crying, and gem is holding his hands. "I know." he says, and he’s quiet too. "I didn’t- void. I don't think i’ve- ever been on the receiving end of that."

it takes gem a moment to understand what he means, and her chest fills with emotion. she tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

"what-" scar's voice breaks, and gem wants to hug him. she doesn’t know if she's allowed. "what did you think I was?"

gem takes a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I never- I never knew what they actually were." she whispers. "they'd- if you didn't sleep, they'd appear."

scar is silent, and gem almost apologises, but her voice seems to have abandoned her. maybe this is all she can ever have- was she asking too much of him just now? void- the whole plan was to avoid pestering scar, and now she's had a panic attack because she mistook him for- that- okay, it doesn’t matter what, but now he’s dealing with her and she doesn't know if he even wants to, or if he just feels obligated-

"can you stand?" scar asks suddenly, and gem takes a second to recalibrate. can- what? can she stand? of course but- why is she standing? gem doesn’t actually ask any of this, of course, but the questions arise nonetheless.

gem lets go of scar's hands and pushes herself upwards on weak legs, but she doesn’t let it show. she wipes her face and takes a breath, bolstering herself for whatever it is she has to do next.

but scar just holds his hand out. "can you come sleep?"

gem is so surprised, she takes half a step backwards before she realises how rude that looks, and steps forward again, hoping she can play it off as rocking. "I don't- what?"

scar looks almost embarrassed, and gem finds herself getting even more confused. "well- if you-" he clears his throat awkwardly. "if- I can’t, um. I can’t be mad if you're.. not sleeping."

is scar being deliberately vague, or is gem's brain just too tired to understand what is going on? she shakes her head, still trying to process what scar could possibly mean. "I don’t- I don’t know what you-"

"I don't want you to stay up so late." scar says, and his voice is soft like gem hasn't heard it in months, and she might cry. again. "I just- I know you can’t sleep unless you have a distraction. I was trying to ask- can I be the distraction?"

gem takes a shaky breath. "oh." it's all she can manage- it's all she can think right now. gem is tearing up again and she wipes her eyes hurriedly. "I- are you sure?"

scar nods, smiling tearfully. "I miss you. I never- I didn’t expect how much." he holds out his hand again. "will- will you come with me?"

there's a moment of hesitation, of is she allowed, before gem slips her hand into scar's and squeezes. "i'd be happy to."

-

the conversation between her and scar on the way to his base was awkward and best, and plain old silence at worst, so gem was a little nervous for what it'd be like when they tried to go to sleep. what if scar changed his mind- or if one of them had another nightmare and suddenly both of them couldn't sleep? what if scar was just- lying, or something, and he was just expecting gem to say she was fine on her own?

gem has never been happier to be so wrong about something in her life.

in all the time she's known scar, gem has never seen scar transfer into bed so fast—and he practically pulled her after him before she'd even got her shoes off. once gem crawled under the duvet, she and scar may as well have just become one body. it's so bizarre, how easily they can pick up where they left off, even after so much time, and when gem rests her head against scar's chest, it feels like home.

and- void, gem missed this so much. the way they fit against each other like they were made for each other, the feeling of scar's hand in her hair, the warmth in her stomach as she burrows under the duvet- it's the closest to perfect that gem thinks can exist. it feels as if she could close her eyes and drift off in an instant, she feels so safe.

scar buries his face in gem's hair. "I love you." he mumbles, and gem almost starts to cry again.

"I love you too." she holds scar tighter, voice wavering embarrassingly. "i’m sorry- i’m so sorry. it- for everything."

"i’m sorry too." scar whispers, sounding close to tears. "I shouldn't have- i’m so sorry gem." he presses a kiss to the top of gem's head.

gem's throat is tight, and she swallows a sob. "it- it's okay. I didn't- you didn’t mean it."

"neither did you." scar's voice is painfully soft, and gem blinks back tears. "it wasn't- I have to-" scar gives a little huff—the one he does when he's tripping over his words. "I- gem, I forgive you."

it hits her a moment later, like something melting in her chest, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over come clawing back up her throat. I forgive you.

gem is sobbing into scar's shoulder, and scar is holding her tight and he’s crying too, and she knows that if she asked why, he'd say that if she's crying then he's gonna cry too, and she's missed him so much. her chest aches with each breath, and she doesn’t care because he forgives her, and she doesn't deserve it, but scar thinks she does, and there's nothing in the world more important than that.

"you’re- you’re so important to me, gem." scar says, voice thick with tears, but gem can hear his smile—which only wants to make her cry more. "I couldn't- there was nothing that would have kept me from you. not even myself."

"I love you." gem is still crying, and she's smiling, and she's hugging scar, and there's nothing that could ruin this moment. "i’m- I could never-" she chokes on her words and dissolves into another sob, holding scar like a lifeline.

"if- if you keep crying, i’m not gonna be able to stop." scar says, hiccuping a weak laugh.

"that's- that's your fault." gem manages through sobs, half laughing. "I blame you."

scar pulls her closer, and gem melts into him, tension she didn't even know she was holding leaving her. "you're so wonderful." he says, and gem almost sobs.

"you’re not- i’m gonna keep crying if you say stuff like that." gem says, and scar is laughing, and she's a mess but she doesn’t care.

scar forgives her.

[ahllohehn]

Hi ive just found this blog and i cant say ive ever thought of a percy jackson hermitcraft au but im love it and would love to let you info dumpanything you havent got to yet!

honestly I've been holding off a lot of things because I'm afraid to be met with "That's not plausible because that's not in the books!" when I've never really liked stricting myself to the books.

But thank you for stopping by :] (although I can't fully claim this AU is the first of its kind) And the opportunity? (Apologies for I'll use your ask for this INFODUMP )

about au au tag discord

The HaTO Discord obviously knows this, but Scar's parent is..... Gaea. I honestly didn't plan to go down this route at first, but when I considered Qrow's idea on it I decided to borrow it (I'm so sorry dad) because, it would actually..... seem cool?

Getting the "Gaea has been asleep in the void of Chaos for such a long time, how can Scar exist?!" out of the way, I'm copy pasting what I first wrote for it here since it's about time I let it leave the discord anyway;

Since Gaia is the earth itself. Just because she's asleep, doesn't mean she's completely incapable of interactions (from what I saw in the books anyway with the Leo stuff). Paired with the fact that Athena is capable of making children simply from thoughts, I thought maybe; what if Gaia could do that same?|

Imagine a mortal nature lover that spent most of their days advocating for the better well-being of the earth. How maybe they've always lived for the earth and with the earth? Maybe they were a farmer, a gardener. If the earth could feel the love its received, wouldn't it basically count as Gaia accepting some type of worship?

The same way how some gods would… gift children as a compliment or a blessing for their mortal partners, I thought maybe Gaia could basically will a baby out of a plant with the *cough* bodily.. fluids... (blood or.. whatever) that seeped into the earth. So I guess it's kinda like a 'babies come from a stork' story. So Scar's mortal parent would've basically been fine another day but would suddenly have their life turned upside down the next day as soon as they see a child in their garden they don't remember having.

Other than that, I thought it'd be cool to see a story following a child of Gaea that has to choose the destruction of their friends or the freedom of their mother.

Scar would've grown up to be a papa's boy ofc, but his dad has taught him to love nature and the earth so much that he honestly wouldn't mind the possiblity of being able to interact with the mom he's been taught to worship his entire life.

I'll stop there ugh I'm so noisy. If you want almost in-character stuff, there's a fake scanned letter of Satyr Doc talking about Scar.

[juliusxxxxxx]

How to start your own cult

*this is more or less a crack fic

*au where Scar is trying to use Grian’s watcher power to start a cult

*2000+ words

*probably not a one-shot

Knock knock.

No one’s answering.

Knock knock.

This time Scar banged on the door.

No one’s answering.

“Excuse me?” Said Xelqua. Their face was obscured under the shadow of their ominous purple robe, appearing as a pitch-black void. “What—are you doing?”

“What are WE doing!” Scar corrected the being, then reached forward to pull on their hood. “Take it off. You’re going to make ‘em scared.”

“No! How dare you—” Xelqua clasped tightly onto the inexplicable fabric. It felt cold to the touch and almost weightless in Scar’s hand. “There’s a sacred ritual that needs to be done before we can reveal our faces to mortals—you can't do it right after you just manifested me!”

“You’re here to fulfill my wish, right?”

“Yes…unfortunately! Stop it, mortal!”

But the deed had already been done. After the shadow was lifted, there was a face.

It's just a typical face, belonging to a person who appeared to be male, with blonde hair, black eyes, and some light freckles. Their eyes didn't seem to have pupils. Just black as ink.

“Oh…that’s what you look like.” Scar rested his hand. “I thought you were going to look way cooler. Like a cyclone or something.”

Xelqua rolled their eyes. Two eyes, how disappointing. Scar couldn't help himself but sighed.

“Now, can you tell me why we are here, mortal?” They surveyed the dreadfully dull middle-class neighborhood, under the bright midday sun. All nice houses, with neatly manicured front yards. “You dragged me here without even telling me what your wish was. It is extremely rude, in case you don't know it already.”

“My wish?” Scar puffed out his chest, wearing a bright smile on his face. “I want to start a cult.”

“…What?”

They looked at Scar with clear disgust on their normal-looking face.

“Yeah. Since I had a desire strong enough to summon a literal god, I did my research and…volià, here you are!”

He put his arm around the being's shoulders. There were many things he chose not to mention in the explanation he gave, including the graphic description of too many fresh eyeballs and organs that grossed him out. But it was all worth it in the end, right at the moment this Watcher emerged in the center of the wired rectangle he had made. It was drawn with blood, of course.

Xelqua gave him an unimpressed look.

“You seem to have some doubts,” Scar gave them a tight squeeze. “Alright, picture this: a bright, luxurious convention hall with thousands and thousands of people gathering. I am the super duper charismatic orator, preaching about fighting evil and injustice in the world with the power of true happiness. Someone shouted in the crowd, ‘Scar, how are you going to convince me, a stubborn moron who’s never been scammed in my entire life because I’m so lame and boring?’”

“And?”

“That’s when you come in, and strike ‘em with the power of thunder! Everyone trembles and kneels, offering me their life savings out of their pure, heartfelt faith.”

Xelqua stuck their tongue out.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” They brushed off his arm. “Have fun with your scam. I don't want to be a part of it.”

“No, Xelqua—but my wish!”

“I don't even want your soul anymore. It’s too…morbid for my liking.”

“Please! You haven't even heard of the amazing books I’ve been planning—”

Before he could finish his wailing, the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

“Uh…hello?”

A woman held the door, looking bewildered at the pair.

“Why, hello!”

Scar pulled the being back to the porch and put on his best expression, whether they liked it or not.

“We don't need anything—”

“No, no. We’re not salesmen. Far from them, actually.” He rummaged through his blazer and found a name card, which he handed to the housewife. He was fully prepared for this moment. He had been preparing this day for quite some time, and he was determined not to let it end in vain. “Here, take my card. The first one is for free.”

“Uh…Church of the True Happyness…of the Third Watcher?” She frowned, trying to read the wordy name. “Is this a new religion or something? Why is the ‘happiness’ spelled wrong? And why are there two ‘of’? ”

“I’m not with this lunatic—”

“Yes! A new religion. For true happiness. Just ignore my spelling mistake, please.”

Scar cut them off.

“The two ‘of’ thing is trendy. Just look around the other popular cul—churches, like the one started with an M.” He then reached both of his hands toward the housewife and shook with her eagerly. “Me and this—this—” He quickly lowered his voice and whispered to this extraterrestrial being, “what’s your pronouns?”

“I—I—he him?” The being stuttered.

“This handsome young man,” Scar patted on his back and declared, “are here to help.”

“Help?”

“Uh-huh. The lady who lives down the street mentioned that you have a faulty vacuum cleaner you got from your MLM just weeks ago. How unfortunate.”

“My MLM? Excuse you! What are you talking about? My business is legit—”

“Can I take a look at it?”

He pulled Xelqua toward the doorway and squeezed past the woman.

“This is private property! You can't just come in like this!” She frantically followed them into her own house. “Get out before I call the police!”

Scar began opening each closet in the house, ignoring her warning. It didn't take him long to find the broken house appliance in question, lying lifelessly in the dust.

“Here it is! You are a big beauty.” He pulled it out from the closet and wiped it clean haphazardly. “Xelqua?”

“Wha—you are out of your mind!” Xelqua turned towards the approaching woman and then turned back to face him. “We have to leave! I don't want to deal with your mortals’ cops—they’re notorious, even in my dimension!”

“Come on—” Scar nagged. “You’re here to fulfill my wish, right? Then consider this to be it. Fix this vacuum cleaner then consider we even.”

“…Are you serious right now?” Xelqua dropped his jaw. “You’re going to waste your one and only wish…on this?”

“I don't see any reason why not, since you’re going to leave me anyways.” He said with arms crossed. “Just do it for me.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

The being widened his pupil-less eyes. It was even more eerie than usual.

“Yeah. You are one vacuum cleaner away from freedom.”

“Get out of my house! This is the final warning!”

The woman yelled in fury, rightfully so.

“You came at the right time, ma’am.” Scar turned toward her, putting on his smile again. “We just fixed it. Can you plug it in for me?”

“…Heh?”

She halted.

“Try it out. If it doesn't work right away then we’ll leave immediately, am I right?” He gave the being a nudge.

“…Yes.”

Xelqua answered unwillingly.

The housewife knelt down to plug in the vacuum cleaner, grumbling about how absurd everything was. The moment it was turned on, a spark of purple light emitted from its indicator.

It worked.

“Phew—that was close.” Scar wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He should have just lost his soul a second ago, yet he didn't feel anything. Well, maybe he really was the chosen one who didn't have a soul to begin with.

“It…it worked?” She kept pressing different buttons on the vacuum cleaner, and they all certainly performed their functions. “How—how did you do that? My hubby can't do anything about it!”

“By the power of true happiness and the third Watcher, of course. By the way, the ‘happyness’ is actually spelled with an ‘y’, I just decided it. It’s better for trademark legalization anyway.”

Then, he grabbed Xelqua’s robe as the being tried to dematerialize and slip away from reality. A small part of his body had gone transparent already.

“What more do you want?” Xelqua protested, trying to get rid of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Give me a second,” Scar whispered to him and called the woman, still in awe, admiring her newly reborned cleaner. “Could you please help me with something? As a repayment for our service?”

“Uh…I really don't want to pay you. You seem like a scammer.”

“No—not money, yet.” He shook his head. He was rather frustrated that she would think so lowly of him, but he decided to let it pass. “Do you have the business card I just gave you?”

“…Yes?”

She began searching for it as she was instructed.

“There’s a line in the back. Can you read it out loud?”

She turned it around and started laughing immediately. “How am I supposed to read this? This is gibberish.”

“Well—I should know it beforehand…” Scar took a deep sigh and scratched his neck. Guess normal people without any knowledge would definitely not be able to read it, but he had no one to test it out for him yet. “Just repeat after me, then.”

He cleared his throat and started reciting.

“Mggoka ya orr'e.”

“Mgg…oka…ya orr’e.”

The being called Xelqua let out a short gasp as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What are you doing, mortal?”

“Ng ya bthnk.”

Scar ignored him but continued the chant.

“Ng ya b…thnk.”

She was trying her best to speak the obscure language that had been long lost in this mortal land. As each forbidden word was spoken, defying all laws of nature, the being trembled by the power of a divine offering.

“—Xelqua.”

“Xelqua…?”

Right after she finished the chant, the entire room was momentarily illuminated by a cold, purple glow. It happened so quickly, too quick for her to even realize it was emanating from herself.

“Thank you.”

Scar bowed to her, then walked decisively towards the doorway without looking back.

A few moments later, he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.

“How do you know these words?” The being known as Xelqua called as soon as they stepped out of the house.

“I did my research,” he simply said. “I know you’d follow me.”

“Of course I will…you are despicable.”

Xelqua uttered, catching up to him and walking alongside him.

“You sacrificed her soul to me for a…vacuum cleaner?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

Scar raised his shoulders.

“One more soul for you to chew on in the Void. I bet mine tastes awful so—I did you a favor?”

“I don't chew on souls! What do you think I am?”

“But that’s what all you want, am I right?”

Xelqua’s gaze locked on him for a while.

He couldn't read the emotions behind those eyes; it was as if he was staring into the Void itself. They reminded him of the legends he had learned from those ancient books about how the Watcher’s eyes can see through a person's very true self. A self. He often wondered if he even possessed one of his own.

But then, the Watcher laughed.

“What are you trying to do, mortal?”

Perhaps he actually had one after all.

“I want to start a cult!” Said Scar. “I said it from the very beginning. I'm true to my words—well, sometimes.”

“So that is your plan.” Xelqua shook his head. “I get some free souls so that you can start your dream cult.”

“You’re a smart god.” He reached out a hand toward the being. “How’s the deal?

“Sounds fine to me.” Xelqua shook it. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know. Doing the world a favor.” Scar released the being’s hand immediately. “Man, I can't wait!”

He didn't appreciate the being's lack of body temperature. He preferred interacting with real humans, especially someone who is willing to accompany him to a vibrant and dramatic apocalypse. Hopefully, cats and trees will be part of the experience.

“I’m thinking—I’m thinking we should go to a college campus next. Those students are so young and impressionable…and stupid.” He started marching down the street in victory, while the being followed him close behind. “Everyone is so anxious about their futures and—whatever the kids are worrying about nowadays. It’s perfect! You can give them some good grades or the body type of an Instagram model—or drugs, I don't care, then they will be your good little lambs.”

“Why do you hate the mortals so much, then?” After listening to his rambling in silence, the being asked.

“I don't?” Scar stopped sharply, turning toward him. “I love humanity! They are so great. So bright. So wishful and always so creative. I love them. Oh, how can I ever hate them!”

“Then why are you doing this, willing to condemn their souls for all of eternity?”

“For the money, I guess.”

“You can simply wish for it,” Xelqua said, slightly confused. “Many mortals wished for money and I granted them more than their wildest dreams.”

“Nah. That’s boring.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be bored to death, and nothing is more scary than that.”

Xelqua looked at him with a tilted head.

“You’re funny.”

“No, tell me I'm charismatic.” Scar continued his walk. “I need to be a cult leader after all.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tear You Apart Part 2: Don’t Run From Me, Stay✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I love this series so much and can’t believe this is the end to their beautiful story 🥹 Thank you to @alltheirdamn for beta reading and @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me scream about this with them 🥰 I love this story more than words can express 🥹

Summary: Joel’s scared to lose you, but he’s more afraid that he’ll hurt you. So he runs far from you, until you follow after him into the dark forest.

Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Jackson era, outbreak au, Little Red Riding Hood references, lots of angst, feelings, mild choking scene, confessions, switching povs, dark au, angst with a happy ending, unprotected piv, oral (fem receiving)

“Show me the love you've always wanted. All the love is gone, driven apart by what we all have seen. We're falling over ourselves. How do we mourn what's lost, what never will be? Remember me, remember me as you loved me. Carry the weight of selfless scars we silently crave. Show me your hands and touch the stars with me.”

- “Remember Me” by Currents

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Seven days. It’s been seven miserable days since Joel has come to you in the night. Seven days since he last touched you. Seven days since he caressed your face for the first time, affection etched all over his calloused fingers. Seven days since he let down his brick walls just a little. Seven whole fucking days since he held you in his arms, releasing that caged up wolf as he let you in. 

   He let you in. He let you in. For just those few moments, but it was all you needed to see he wasn’t just sharp teeth and fangs. He was more. He was so much more. He was good, even if he didn’t believe it. 

   You toss and turn in the cool sheets, listening to the repeated ticking noise of the clock on the faded walls. It seems to taunt you as its repetitive ticks fill the void of the room. Tick tick tick. It’s too much to bear, so you throw a cotton pillow over your ears to try to drown out the insufferable noise, but it doesn’t work. It never works. 

   Your body drowns in the sheets, a thin sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you toss and turn again and again and again. You feel as if you’re losing your mind waiting in this vacant room as if Joel will walk in at any second. You groan to yourself, call out his name as if he can hear you calling to him, begging him to come back. Joel, Joel, Joel. Come back. Come back.

   You need him. You need him. Just like you need air to breathe, you’ll surely suffocate without his warm breath blowing in your face. You fucking need him. 

   It’s like the ghosts in the forest hear your cries, their shrouded warnings filled in the night air as their sharp nails drag down your window. They tell you to run, stay away, but you don’t listen. You never listen. 

   After five more agonizing minutes groveling in the silky sheets, you push yourself out of bed and head for the closet. You have to find him, you can’t wait another second not knowing if he’s okay. But you already know. You know he’s not okay. 

   You pull on a pair of tight jeans and slip a black sweater over your head, trying your hardest to clear the voices of the forest in your mind. Stay here, he doesn’t want you to find him, he’ll ruin you. You cover your ears and scream into the cotton of your shirt, telling the voices to just stop shouting. Enough. You can’t take it anymore, take them. You need to see him, you need to know he’s alive and not dead like the voices are screaming. 

   You throw on a pair of brown hiking boots and lace the strings up tight before making your way out of your bedroom door. You have to find him, and if that means going out into the cold, black forest then so be it. You need to get to him, wherever he might be. 

   You descend the stairs, scuffing your boots against the creaky wooden steps as you stomp down. Have to find him, have to find him. Just as you make your way off the last step, the brass doorknob of your front door turns and then the rusting door is slammed open. You jump back in surprise until you see just who stands right in the doorway. 

   Joel. 

   “Joel?” you gasp as you take in his weathered features. His eyes are wild, dark and burdened as his eyebrows knit together tightly. His jaw is clenched, mouth pressed together in a scowl as his blood runs cold. His tousled curls are so messy, the lines on his forehead thick as his stance weakens. His broad shoulders are hunched, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon out in the cold. But what really stands out is how lost he looks. Cloudy eyes burdened with something that looks a lot like sadness, like he’s been crying out for help. 

   Your mouth parts open as you start to raise your voice. Not in an angry shout, but more of a plea to answer why he’d been gone so long. “Where have you been, Joel? Seven days. It’s been seven fucking days since…”

   He cuts off your words as he storms up to you and pushes you hard against the peeling wall, his large arms caging you in on both sides of your shoulders as his eyes light up with nothing but anger. “I’ve been out,” he growls as he scowls your way, one hand pinning you to the wall as his muscular thighs pin your legs in place. 

   “Out? I thought you were dead!” you scream, tears licking at the corners of your eyes as he just stands there, caging you to him. He just looks at you with dark eyes as they fade to a charcoal black color, no more honeysuckle colored flecks left in those dark pits. 

   He chuckles, a wicked sound pulling from his throat as he scowls at you. “Might as well be,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear that. All you can do is lock your jaw and pout your bottom lip out to him. 

   “You can’t do that to me. You can’t leave me without telling me where you’re…”

   He interrupts yet again as he screams into your face, his words like knives to your chest. “I can do whatever the hell I want! I don’t owe you a goddamn thing! You don’t fuckin’ need to know where I’m at because you’re not mine,” he growls as he rips into your face, his deep voice carving a long blade into your heart as he splits you in half. 

   Not mine? “Not mine? But you said…”

   He rips the words from your vocal cords as he wraps a hand tightly around your throat and squeezes. You see his eyes turn to black pits, see the tinge of glowing orange as his temper takes hold of him. His grip is so tight that he’s choking you, robbing you of oxygen as he presses your head firmly against the wall. You try to kick your feet, try to bang your hands against his broad chest, but he has you trapped underneath his towering body. You can’t move, can’t think so you use the only thing you have. Your voice. 

   “Joel, stop. You’re hurting me,” you rasp out as you cough and feel your face turn bright red. You see his eyes. Cold, lost, unalive as he squeezes harder and bares his sharp teeth, his soul lost just like his own sanity. It’s like he’s taken his dark form, letting the lonely wolf feed on his mind as he lets it destroy him, devour him alive. And now the Joel you know is gone.

   “Joel, please,” you beg as you take one last breath, eyes hounding into his as you plead for him to let you go. Just when you think he won’t let up, his eyes grow wide, his furrowed eyebrows relaxing as he comes back to himself and realizes what he’s done. 

   He drops his hands from your neck abruptly and shoots back as you gasp for breath, coughing your lungs out as he watches in fear, his eyes as wide as the night sky as his hands shake, his body stiff as he looks on in pure horror. When you’re able to breathe freely again, you stand up and walk slowly toward him, your body buzzing from confusion and shock. 

   You reach for him, call out his name, but he steps out of your space and presses himself against the still, open door. He looks terrified, his eyes wild as he realizes what he did. He hurt you. He hurt you. 

   You step closer, one foot forward and then another until he slips once again from your grasp. You reach out one more time, begging him to stay, needing him to stay, but he doesn’t, he won’t. 

   “Please, don’t,” you beg as you feel your body start to shut down, your heart hammering in your chest as you just stare at him, at his sad, hurting dark eyes. Please stay. Please. 

   Your eyes water, fingers twisting against the faded material of your jeans as you silently pray that he’ll stay. He’s hurt, so hurt. You see it in his hazy eyes, flecks of darkness shining like fresh teardrops. He just stares at you stunned, hands flexed into tight fists as he curses himself for what he did to you. 

   “I… I…” He’s speechless, nothing but slurring sounds as he stands tongue tied in front of you. But you wish he’d say something, anything. You just need to know he’s okay. But he doesn’t say anything, nothing at all. And it hurts. It fucking hurts.

   His eyes cloud over, the anger simmering inside his empty body as he backs out of the house slowly, his eyes wide and daunting as he sees you standing there, tears starting to stream down your beautiful face. He did that. He did that.

   Fragile. You’re so fragile, so fucking special. He can’t bear to break you anymore than you already are. He doesn’t want to drag you into the pit of despair, so he runs. He runs into the thick trees, far away from you, away from something that might just be his saving grace. He runs as fast as his tired legs can carry him, bones crushing against the weight of his heavy heart as he fades away, letting the forest swallow him whole till he’s far away from you. 

   He can’t fucking ruin you, too. You’re too… precious. Little lambs don’t deserve to be slaughtered by big bad, bleeding wolves. That’s what he is… broken. That’s all he’ll ever be. 

   He runs feral through the dark forest, jumping over broken vines, dodging tangled tree limbs, and dragging his worn out leather boots through the thick mud. He ignores the distant screech of infected, could care less if a clicker came and tore his skin to shreds. What would it matter? He’s lost everything, but most importantly he lost you. Gave you up so he wouldn’t drag you down to the darkness with him. He’d rather take a gun to his head than see himself hurt you again. 

   You were his little lamb, but he laid you out to be slaughtered with the blood of the monster that was inside himself. A vicious wolf that deserved to be put to sleep. 

   He howls to the full moon, runs till he has nowhere else to go, stopping at the edge of a shimmering, dark lake under the moonlight that casts shadows over the murky water. He drops to his knees, sinks his nails deep into the dirt, burying his head in his chest as he mourns the loss of you, of Sarah, of Ellie. 

   He doesn’t deserve Ellie’s forgiveness, will never forgive himself for letting Sarah get shot instead of him, won’t ever forget how wrecked you looked watching him walk out of your house. That picture will forever burn through his mind, the sad glistening tears that pricked your beautiful eyes, the way you tried to stop him from leaving, the way you said you were his. You weren’t his. Not anymore. No. He saved you from that doomed fate, even though it shattered him completely. 

   He was a mere man in scattered pieces, his heart completely torn to shreds. He has nothing left to live for, so why doesn’t he just end it? It’d sure as hell be better than living without you in his arms. 

   He claws his nails into the dirt, sinking his head further into his chest until he becomes a part of the earth. Hollow, dirt encased, a mere existence that only coexists with the dark depths of the lake. 

   Forever doomed to be a lone wolf.

   You stand there frozen in place, your hand on your throat, wide eyes staring at the open door as darkness seeps inside. Joel. He left, he left without a goodbye, without anything. Just left you alone in this house, without him.

   He said you weren’t his with his claws wrapped around your throat, looked like a wounded puppy after he realized what he did. He looked so… lost. And that’s how you feel, standing in the chill of the room without a speck of comfort to keep you warm, without his arms, his eyes, his touch. 

   You open your mouth but no words come out, only static noise that sounds a lot like a plea to make him come back. He’s not a monster, he’s not bad like he thinks he is. He was angry, scared, pained when he pounced through your front door, and you saw that same pleading look in his eyes that reflected off yours all those long, insufferable nights he left you alone in this house.

   The clock ticks and ticks and ticks until you crack. You have to go after him, you can’t let him slip from your fingers again. So you throw on your best brave face, grab the large flashlight, and run after him into the unknown territory of the pitch black forest.

   The temperature change from the warm home turns to near frigid temperatures as the wind whips through your hair violently. You turn your face back to the light of your house, but quickly avert your gaze back to the frightening shadows that stalk the forest.

   You don’t know what’s in there, what’s stalking in the quiet of the night, but you throw the frightening thoughts out of your scattered mind. There could be bears, infected, or even deadly clickers that could rip your throat out with one bite, but you don’t fucking care. All you care is that Joel is in there somewhere, and you have to find him. If it’s the last thing you do, you won’t let him run away again. No. You’d rather die than watch him slip away from your grasp.

   You take off into the thick forest, your flashlight guiding the way as you run like the wind, following Joel’s footsteps that he’d left behind. You’re not keen on sense, not sharp enough to trace him, but you smell him. The brush of his flannel shirt on a fallen tree limb, the woodsy aroma that marks him colliding with your scent, the fear that was in his dark eyes the moment he touched you. You still feel it burning your throat like charred liquid, as hot as his skin was a week ago in your bed. And you… need him.

   You have to find him.

   You feel the sharp tree branches claw across your arms, your windblown hair getting pulled by the wisps of haunted ghosts that warn you to turn back. Get out, leave, run far away from the beast of the forest. But you shut them out and only focus on your ragged breaths as you follow the left behind footsteps that’ll lead you to him.

   You run as fast as your tired feet can carry you, letting the sting of your soles dig into your heels as if shards of glass cut straight through the bottom of your boots. Your lungs feel as if they’re on fire, the cold wind almost suffocating you as if you’ll pass out at any second.

   Keep moving. You have to find him.

   Against your better judgment, you keep running, keep trekking through the damp, dark forest as the ghosts curse you for striving after a man they call a monster. But he’s no monster to you; you belong to him. Or at least you thought you did. You’re not so sure anymore. But you won’t give up. 

   “Have to find him,” you whimper to yourself as you lose sight of his footsteps in the dirt path. Fuck. But you keep running forward, praying you’re moving in the right direction.

   You can’t bear to think he’s alone out here mourning in the night under the full moon, can’t stand to think of him out in the bitter cold as he torments himself for placing his strong hands on you. It was an accident, only an accident. Because whatever was hurting him, whatever was haunting those beautiful, teary dark eyes was pure pain. And you wonder what caused all that torment behind such a beautiful, anguished face.

   You need to get to him. Before it’s too late. Before… he’s gone again.

   Joel, Joel, Joel. The name itself makes you run faster than the wind as it tears through your messy hair.

   You take one, two more racing steps, but then something catches your ankle, like claws tethering and holding you back from where you need to be. 

   “Joel,” you whisper before you go colliding into the dirt covered ground while your flashlight slips out of your hand and nearly cracks on impact.

   The pain scorches through your body, your lungs fill with burning fire, and the breath is ripped from your body as a shattering ache runs straight through your bones. You look back and find a root entangled around your foot, and when you try to move it it ignites with blinding pain.

   You try to scream, but your voice is nothing in the howl of the wind as your lungs bleed with the sting of sharp, stabbing pain. Tears spill over in your glassy eyes as they fight to stay open, the radiating pain taking over every single limb in your body.

   You feel defeated, hear the humiliation of taunting ghosts that whisper words that make your skin crawl with rage. He’s nobody, he doesn’t deserve you, he’ll only hurt you. But again, you silence the hateful words and decide to shut them out.

   “I’m not…” you grind your teeth together in a painful scowl as you drag your body forward, “giving him up. I’m not losing him again.” You dig your nails into the dirt and grit your teeth together as you slowly lift yourself off the ground and cry out at the burning sensation that threatens to take you back to your knees, but you won’t let it. You’ll drag yourself through the thick forest until you find those large brown eyes again. You won’t give up, you’ll never give up until you’re right where you belong. Back in his arms.

   You’re not losing him. Not again, not ever. 

   You drag yourself deeper into the forest, tripping over protruding vines, carrying the weight of your scratched up legs, tears brimming to the surface as you whisper his name over and over and over again. 

   Please, come back, Joel. Where are you?

   You search for over an hour until you finally get close to the edge of the shining lake, and then you see him. Joel sits with his knees encased in the dirt and his body sagged, head down low as tousled curls fall into his beautiful, anguish filled golden brown eyes.

   You topple to the ground and whisper out his name, your body giving up as tiredness and pain take their course through your lungs. “Joel.”

   He slowly turns his head in your direction, and he looks completely defeated. “Go away.” It’s barely a breath off his lips, but a demand just the same.

   “No.” You shake your head and hold your ground, feeling like the ground might open up and swallow you whole.

   “I said go away,” he tries again, this time with a bite to his words as his jaw clenches on the last syllable.

   “Joel, no.” You push yourself out of the dirt, scuffing your boots forward until you’re almost right behind him. “Why did you run from me? Why did you…”

   He turns his head and grits his teeth together, and you see pure anger in those flash of onyx eyes. “I said LEAVE!” 

   He uses all his strength to shove you back, and you topple to the ground, your flashlight shattering against the trunk of a tree, and you land hard on your right side. You look up with tears streaming down your eyes, and his eyes go wide, fear lacing inside those pools of dark brown irises. Again, he curses himself for putting his hands on you not once, but twice tonight. And you see how beaten and torn apart that makes his shaking body.

   The air is so still, the wind barely moving as you sit there in the hollow dirt with your hands reaching for life. Cold. You're so cold, the intolerable temperature barely noticeable as your heart shatters in two.

   "Jus’ please, listen to me for once," he whispers, his defeated voice barely audible above the faint wind.

   You shift your worn out body, crawling on your hands and knees to the man that's torn apart. You inch closer, crawling and crawling until he barks back at you.

   "Go away!" His voice is demanding, final as he lashes out at you, sharp canines biting back as he snarls your way.

   Your teary eyes peel down his body, watching as he's hunched over and clawing the earth to get a hold of himself. You see the way he carries himself, jaw clenched and head down to his chest. One hand covers his eyes, the other sinks into the dirt as you watch a hot tear fall down his face and land in the shimmering lake.

   He's so broken, just like the black military watch that sits latched around his left wrist. Shattered glass, no ticking hands, no life to be found in the clear reflection.

He's broken, so very broken. Bruised, hollowed out, defeated. 

   Your heart breaks in that moment; you can barely pick yourself up. Cold, you're so cold, but it's not because of the wind. It's because you feel just how torn apart he really is, and it kills you. You want to take the pain away, want to make it all just stop. Only if he'd let you, but he won't.

   Let me in. Let me in!

   Your eyes shoot to his broken watch as the lake glitters against the glass. He sees you staring, but he has no more strength to lash out. “Joel, please. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what’s hurting you,” you plead, your voice cracking against the wind.

   “What’s hurting me? Everything is hurting me,” he murmurs, and you feel the pain that carries through his gravelly voice.

   “Tell me, Joel. Tell me what’s hurting you. Please, I can make it stop,” you reply heavily as you fumble over your words.

   “You can’t make it stop, little lamb. No one can,” he sighs as his face drops to his chest.

   “I can try,” you whisper out.

   His bottom lip twitches, and his fingers curl deeper into the cold dirt. His jaw ticks, and you see he’s fighting a battle within himself, but that battle breaks seconds later. “This watch, the reason I still wear it is because my daughter gave it to me before the outbreak happened.”

   You gasp, but you let him continue.

   “Her name was Sarah. And she… she died in my arms when we were tryin’ to escape Austin.” The wind dies down, and the two of you just sit in silence until he starts up again.

   “A soldier thought she was infected, and he didn’t give us the time to even try to explain ourselves. And so he shot her, right by the heart. And my little girl was gone seconds after.” Tears start streaming down his face, and his head falls down even lower as he fights to keep himself up. 

   Oh, Joel.

   His fingers push harder into the dirt, and his body starts to shake uncontrollably as his grief slips away, carrying over the silvery lake and crashing right into your heart. You feel just how broken Joel really is.

   “It should’ve been me! Sarah was jus’ twelve years old. She was too young, she was my only child, my only baby girl. And she…” His words cut off as tears start falling against the backs of his rough hands.

   “Joel…” you whisper, your words being silenced by his gravelly voice.

   “And then I got another chance with Ellie. Ellie was the one reason, the closest thing I had to a daughter again. And now… now she fuckin’ hates me after what I did. After I lied to her about the fireflies. She can’t even stand the sight of me…” 

   You shift your weight on the ground, your eyes glossy from tears that fill your eyes. You try to reach your hand out, but he cringes and backs away. You feel a cold teardrop streak across your cheek, and you just feel completely hopeless knowing he’s in this much pain, and he won’t let you even try to comfort him.

   “Give her some time, maybe she’ll…”

   “She won’t even fuckin’ look at me when I’m in the same room as her!” His voice comes out strong, but it’s still cracked with flecks of sadness and remorse. “She’ll never forgive me…”

   You swallow a whine in the back of your throat, and you stay staring at the man you’ve come to care for so deeply. You hate seeing him in this much pain, you fucking hate it.

   “And then there’s Tommy. Most days he can’t even stand the sight of me. And then you…” His voice cracks, and you see a silent tear fall to the ground. “I… hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’m a… a bad man. I should’ve never put my hands on you…” His face falls into his hands as he lets the tears rain down, and that shatters you completely.

   His words are so sad, so very defeated. And you feel as if you’ve been hit with a truck by how unbearably awful you feel in this moment. He’s not a bad man. He was never a bad man.

   You crawl on your hands and knees, carefully watching yourself so you don’t scare him off, and freeze when you hear him whispering to himself. "Make it stop, please. Make the pain stop. I'm not good... I'm not good for anyone. I’m not good for you. But you’re the only thing I want…" he whispers like it’s only meant for his own ears, and it crushes you to pieces.

   Oh, Joel.

   You feel a tear slide down your cheek, feel your eyesight become blurry with the stained tears in your eyes. He thinks he's not good, but that's not true. He's good. You think he's good.

   Without wasting another moment, you rush over to him and crash your body into the back of him, wrapping your arms so tight around his broad chest as you drop to the ground and put your entire weight into him.

   "I told you to go away..." Joel whispers, a tortured plea that sounds a lot like a cry for help low in his voice. It comes off raspy, choking the words out as you feel another tear fall from his eyes.

   He needs you. He needs you.

   "I know, but l'm not leaving you, Joel. You need me just as I need you. Let me stay, please. Let me stay. I... I want to stay," you choke out, stuttering the words as your teeth chatter together. It's so cold, so very cold. But he's warm, and this is where you choose to stay.

   "You... want to stay..." he breathes out, barely above a whisper as you feel his eyes go wide, a somber look feeding his broken mind.

   Broken. He's so completely broken.

   "Yes, let me stay with you. Please, don't run from me again. I... I can't lose you. I thought you weren't coming back. I thought you…”

   You feel a warm palm flatten against the back of your hand hesitantly. He stays like that for a few seconds as you listen to his deep breaths and muted cries. And then calloused fingers entwine with yours slowly, a clear response he's not running off again.

   He stays. He stays.

   He’s so fucking broken, just like the shattered watch that sits clasped around his wrist, just like the broken skin of his knees that drag against the dirt. He’s so broken that it makes you hold on to him tighter, makes you want to never ever let go, makes you want to scream to the sky that he deserves love, deserves someone that’ll show him he’s not alone. And you suddenly realize that someone is you. You care about him so deeply, and you love… you love him.

   “I love you…” you whisper into the shell of his ear, afraid of what he’ll do when he hears.

   “You… what?” he asks as he turns slowly, his eyes as wide as the bright full moon that hangs in the dark night sky.

   “I love you,” you repeat, eyes flicking to his as he stares you down with unbelieving eyes.

   “Why?” His voice is pained like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, that you’re the one saying it to him. 

   “Why? Because… because I see you. The real you. Through all the gnashing teeth, through all the pain, all the brokenness, the loneliness. I see you, Joel. You’re not all sharp bites and harsh words. I see a light in you. You’re… gentle underneath it all. You’re warm. You’re worth fighting for. You’re worth loving. You don’t deserve to be alone, Joel. You never did…” 

   You hold a little tighter to him, let your fingers meld to the sides of his face, let your hands softly graze against his silvery scruff until he’s looking at you so intensely and wide-eyed that you can see how bright his glossy chocolate eyes are.

   He freezes, just sits there blinking down at you, like he still can’t believe his ears. He seems conflicted, wide eyes just staring and staring as the words don’t quite touch his lips. He can’t believe it, doesn’t want to believe someone could actually love him. But then his eyes soften when he looks at you again, his eyes so clear, misty pools of honey staring back at you, and he finally moves, finally does something.

   He removes your hands slowly from his face and places them back in your lap as gentle as a lamb. And then he strokes your face so softly, almost like a feather glides over the surface of your skin. His thumb traces along the edge of your lower lip, slowly slipping a strand of hair behind your ear. And he just stares, searching your eyes for any response that you could’ve been lying, but he finds no lie, only finds soft love, something deep down that he’s always wanted. Someone like you. 

   He dips his head and places it against your forehead, blowing his cinnamon breath along your skin, your lips, and his fingertips linger like fire against your jawline as he sets your heart ablaze.

   “Fuck. I love you, little lamb. I love you with every fiber of my beating chest,” he whispers before he collides his lips with yours.

   He pulls you against his broad chest and brushes his fingers through your hair as you melt into his touch, his coffee flavored taste, and you part your lips to allow him access to your tongue. He takes long strokes, licking inside your mouth as you moan at the taste of him on your tongue.

   You push your fingers through his tousled curls and hear him groan against your mouth, and then you feel him dragging both of you to the ground.

   You’re both naked in seconds as he rips through the clothes and lays you on your back as he splays you open as he takes in the view of you, and it’s like he’s fallen in love all over again as his eyes burn vibrant amber.

   “Christ. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You’re so… mine,” he claims, making your heart jolt as the words rip from his lips.

   He takes his time with you, brushing his calloused fingers over your delicate skin, slowly licking up the heat of your core until you’re nothing but liquid beneath his touch. He’s so soft, so slow as he laps up your sticky slick, colliding his tongue with your puffy clit, curling his fingers up inside you until he reaches your spongy spot, and then you lose it, releasing all over his thick fingers, his tongue until you’re panting his name in a chorus of ecstasy under the lit full moon.

   He flips you over, straddles you against his hips, and then you ride him slowly as his large hands grasp your hips, assisting you as you take every inch of his large cock inside your dripping core, squeezing him with every rut and stroke he gives you of his large length. 

   The world slips into nothingness, both of your bodies become the shimmering water of the lake, your ragged breaths transforming into the whimsical howls of the wind, your love confessions tangling to every single root in the ground, claiming the entire forest as your own as Joel continues the soft strokes of his thick fingers up your delicate skin. 

   You and Joel tumble to the ground until he’s claiming every single part of you again and again and again until every single soul in the forest knows you’re his.

   He laces his fingers through yours, holding your hands  high above your head as your legs wrap around his strong hips, and then you’re lost to the night as he slowly makes love to you time and time again, an endless tumble of ecstasy, lust, hungry need, and love spilling through every nerve in your body.

   “Say you’re mine, little lamb,” he murmurs softly as his lips trace over yours.

   “I’m yours, Joel. I’ve always been yours,” you whisper as his lips fall down to yours, laying claim to every inch of your needy mouth.

   “Mine,” he repeats, his tongue dancing against yours as he takes the kiss deeper, his hands clinging to the back of your head as his fingers thread through your hair. 

   He kisses you like no one has ever done before, licking and stroking his tongue over every single crevice of your mouth, acting as if he’ll die if he doesn’t get his lips on yours right this very moment.

   It’s like nothing you’ve experienced before. His sharp demands that he usually barks are replaced with gentle kisses, sweet words, and sensations that make you fall apart over and over again beneath his body. It’s like you’re floating over water as your bodies entwine, his arms never letting you fall as he rocks against your hips and whispers how much he loves you against the shell of your ear.

   He tips his head back and howls into the moonlight every single time you arch your back and feel the white hot heat take control of your body, spilling over him, giving him everything you have as “I love you” tumbles out of each of your mouths over and over again. 

   You’ll never get enough of him, will never be able to let him go now because you’re his, just as much as he is yours.

   You swear you fall more and more in love with him with  every touch he slides over your skin, every stroke of his hard length inside of you, every breathtaking kiss he sets to your lips, every single breath he breathes out of his beautiful body, and every soft word he traces off his lips for you. He’s it for you, your future, your love of your life, your everything. And he feels the exact same way about you.

   Your back arches one last time as you spill everything for him, letting him take you to the edge as he gives you one last thrust to your spongy walls. You fade into ecstasy, your body burning like fire as his forehead falls against yours while he falls apart right after you.

   It’s all quiet, the forest silent. The only sounds are you and Joel’s ragged breaths as they collide against one another. 

   He strokes your jawline, looks at you with bright syrupy eyes, and you swear you see forever in those magnificent sets of gorgeous eyes. He kisses you softly, setting you ablaze once more as the ground burns hot against your tangled bodies. 

   “You stayed,” he says with swimming eyes, his calloused palm caressing you softly as if he can’t believe you’re still here with him.

   “I’ll always stay, Joel. Yours,” you confirm as you place your hand against his.

   “Mine,” he whispers as he smothers you in an earth shattering kiss that collides your hearts together. 

   He lifts you up minutes later and wraps you in his warm flannel, his jeans and boots the only thing on his skin as he cradles you flush against his chest and carries you back home where he chooses to stay with you, forever.

   And when his lips press against your forehead and he hugs you tight against his body that night in bed, you know he’s yours. That little lamb inside of you never found the big bad wolf scary like everyone else did. You only found home in his big, loving eyes. 

[whosthere54]

Hi chat! I’m on vacation but here’s some food!

I wanted to do a Royal AU fable SMP thing that was Brothers Centric, so I have that planned out a lil bit in my notes and that’s what inspired this little one shot!

Hope you enjoy reading about prison duo :3

———

Icarus was finally able to escape the incessant crowd. They don’t think they’ve ever talked to that many people in their life.

They sigh, leaning back against the wall with their arms crossed over their chest. They scan the ballroom, watching the people of their kingdom celebrate an agreement of peace between the Overworld and the End. If only they knew how much arguing and force it took to get there.

They run a shaky gloved hand through their hair and just breathe for a moment. Their jewelry seemed to have changed from bronze to gold- not that they were complaining- and the seems on their gloves changed from a matching black stitching to a gold thread.

Interesting choice by Quixis, but not an unwelcome one.

Their eyes fall on their brother, all bright purples and greens, and his partner hard not to spot in the crowd for being as tall as he was. He and Fenris seemed so happy together. They couldn’t help but be happy for them.

Fenris surprisingly wasn’t wearing any armor, only dressier black attire. His muscular build was different yet so similar to Centross’s. He was wearing a different mask than usual, this one made of black lace with gold and purple details, his hair pulled into a bun with purple ribbons hanging from it as a marking of his allegiance to the End Kingdom.

It was still Wolf though, that much stayed consistent.

Rae looked… nice.

He’s changed since they’ve last seen him. End markings now with deep lines of dark blue scarring similar almost to Athena’s scars from the wither sickness. An aftermath of the Skulk Sickness they assume. He seemed taller, which was odd. And he had an antler growing out of only one side of his head, decorated with gold chains and purple and green ribbons.

He was wearing a black dress, but it shimmered bright purples and greens when the light hit it. His hair was braided with blue orchids, all his jewelry having a matching orchid theme to them. His crown sat slightly askew atop his head, having been displaced since he’d gotten here. The purple and green jewels in it shined in the sunlight. He seemed so happy. Icarus couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen him that way.

It was nice to see him smile again.

Soon, Fenris traded Rae off for Centross. The two men laughing as Fenris spun them around. Centross wasn’t wearing his armor either, at request of fable, to make him more “non-threatening”. If you look around the citizens seem to be intimidated by him anyways, though the look dies down as time passes.

They all heard the stories. Some were true, some were not. The reputable assassin hired by Enderian herself to assassinate the prince, too much of a coward to finish the job. Some say he’s gotten soft, some say he’s a cold hearted killer, some say he’s just a man. The kingdom grew to respect him regardless. David Centross Mistvale. Their enemy turned best friend. Their assigned bodyguard. The person that is on their side no matter what.

Their idiot best friend.

He dressed nice, dark overworld greens contrasting with his purple scars. He looked like the end and the overworld mixed, black tinted hands and a tail only a bit different from the people of the end. And his wings. They had a structure similar to Rae’s dragon wings, though his were made of bone and whisps of purple the color of the void that faded out in a way so alike to ender particles. They were torn and burnt at the edges, but he was able to fly unaffected.

He had a mask shaped like the skull of a crow, black base with gold thread and green ribbon tying it to his head. They remember having to help him pick, him being so indecisive of what mask to have. Them picking out his earrings, dark metal feathers on gold chains, and giving him some other spare chains they had lying around to put on his mask.

They glanced around the room again, making eye contact for a moment with Rae. They gave him a soft smile and he nodded back, turning back to his partner as he switched off to dance with Rae again. They laughed, shaking their head slightly before turning their attention to their gloves.

They rubbed their eyes, trying to wake themselves up even slightly. Jumping when they feel a steady hand on their shoulder, looking up to find dark purple eyes looking back at them.

“Sorry, just me.” He offered them a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” They laugh softly, leaning back against the wall.

“Hm that’s alright.” He leans with his side against the wall, almost creating a barrier between them and the crowd.

They just talk, just existing for a while. Centross settled to lean his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. They watched the crowd for a bit, Icarus pointing out any important figures that they’d had to talk to- or hadn’t yet but were of note. After a bit of silence, Icarus rested their head against his shoulder. It was where their eyes were just hidden, pressed tightly at the curve of his neck.

He leaned his head just slightly against the top of their head, not saying anything but not moving them.

“You’re exhausted, when’s the last time you’ve slept?”

“Uhh… maybe Three days ago?”

“Gods Icarus”

“Look I’ve been busy”

“Not busy enough to not sleep, what were you doing with all that time birdie?”

They shrug.

“Just… paperwork or somethin’ I dunno.”

He hums softly. “We have to be here for five more hours and you can barely keep your head up, I can sneak you out if you want?”

They laugh lightly, ”If my father wouldn’t kill me id say yes.”

He laughs softly and nods in understanding.

”You can at-least rest your eyes for a bit hm?”

They shrug. After a little bit of silence, Centross runs his fingers gently through to mess with their perfect hair just enough so it’s lightly disheveled. They tense a moment, before relaxing and leaning into the contact with a contented hum.

He murmurs some soft reassurances, just continuing to mess with their hair, eyes continuing to scan the crowd for any type of threat.

After a bit of silence, Centross had honestly thought they’d fallen asleep. Though they mumbled softly, barely able to be heard over the other noise.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

-=+=-

Rae missed this.

He missed dancing with his partner for hours, he missed laughing with him.

He missed the freedom peace gave them.

And they have it now, and it’s wonderful, and it’s scary, and it’s… he couldn’t really describe what he felt if he was asked.

He’d try for Fenris though.

His partner, his partner. He got to call him that now. His partner. His best friend. His wolf.

They had stopped dancing a little while ago, leaning against the wall with drinks instead. It’s been so long since they were able to talk freely like this. It was nice.

He laughed at something Fenris had said, before Fenris stops.

“Wait, Rae look” He says, pointing at the opposite wall, towards the corner of the ballroom. There, Rae saw Centross leaning back against the wall. When he looked closer he also saw his brother… his brother?

He saw his brother, perfect prince Icarus Morningstar, face hidden where it was resting against Centross’s shoulder, crown slightly uneven on his head where Centross’s hand combed through their hair. Their wings were still pressed tightly to their back, tail resting lightly over their leg, but they weren’t stood up straight and their crown wasn’t perfectly placed over their stupidly perfect hair.

“Oh”

“Yeah! Aw look at them!” Fenris leaned his head on top of Rae’s, looking at the pair.

”Are they..?” Rae asks, tilting his head to the side just slightly. He hasn’t talked to his brother in so long, but he would’ve told him that right? Or Centross or Fenris would’ve…

“No- not yet. They should don’t you think?” Fenris’s voice brings him back, eyes finding Icarus again.

“Yeah… yeah I think so.” He murmurs after a moment.

“Look at them. Little losers.”

“They’re our losers.” Fenris hums softly leaning more against his partner.

“Yeah.” Rae leans back, Fenris nuzzling against his hair.

My brother.

Our losers.

[happy-hermit]

HELLO HELLO EVERYONE :D

This is a fic for an AU where young teenager TCD Scar comes through Grian's rift :) It's a trauma reveal folks <33

Enjoy!!

===================================

Grian was beginning to believe that the rift had some form of sentience, given that at times it appeared to become quite… temperamental. Some days it would be almost eerily still and slow. Others it would— Well, it would do what it was currently doing. 

The rift was swirling with more shades of purple than usual, dark patches appearing and disappearing with alarming frequency. There was an electricity in the air that made the hair on his arms stick up, and Grian had the strange feeling in his stomach that the thing was emitting some sort of sound that was too low or high for human ears. It felt a bit like a thunderstorm. 

Grian had set up shop immediately upon noticing something was different, resorting to sitting in a chair staring at the Rift waiting on it to do something. It was horrifically tedious. Grumbot — in true Grumbot fashion — was refusing to give him a straight answer. Grian was beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t have one. 

So he waited. With several cups of coffee and messy notes strewn around him on the ground, he waited. 

He was sleeping when the whole thing really started —  because the Universe hated him personally, he was sure. 

He was already sitting up by the time he regained consciousness, heart beating in his chest, eyes wide and darting around in confusion, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was too bright, and his vision was too blurry from sleep, and where in void’s name was that wind coming from?

The rift chose that moment to start spitting lightning at him, and Grian let out a strangled yell as he dove behind Grumbot’s messaging system, abandoning his empty coffee cups to an uncertain fate. He ducked down and shut his eyes tightly as the glow of the Rift got brighter and brighter, as the high pitched noise emitting from it got higher and higher, until finally something in the fabric of reality snapped under the strain. 

From across the room, there was a short, terrified yell, cut short by the impact of something hitting the ground, and a clatter, like the person had dropped something. There was sudden and complete silence, until it was broken by a quiet groan. Heart in his throat, Grian opened his eyes and shifted, peeking over his makeshift shield to check things out. 

The Rift was back to what he considered to be normal, glowing a serene purple, calm as anything. His notes were strewn about the room and burned at the edges. His coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen. 

On the ground was a person. They were curled up on their side, clutching at their head with gloved hands. Their clothes were ragged and torn, bandages peeking out from under them as the figure shifted slowly. And then they sat up, and their face drifted into view. 

Grian’s breath hitched, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the blocks he was hiding behind. It was a kid. He had messy brown hair, jagged and uneven, like he’d cut it himself, and a bandage creeping up the side of his face from under his chin. He had a bandana tied around his neck, mostly a faded green, except for the faint splatters of dull red. His face was gaunt and his eyes were wide and scared as he patted himself down frantically, muttering to himself. The kid couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. He did not look like someone who believed he would live for much longer. 

Grian let himself poke his head just a bit higher over the barrier, frozen in shock and confusion as his unplanned visitor started whirling around and looking at the floor. His gaze finally landed on something that Grian couldn’t quite see, and his shoulders dropped in what seemed like relief as he went to pick it up. 

Grian… didn’t know what he was expecting. A sword, maybe? No. 

The raggedy little teenager had popped through an interdimensional rift in Grian’s basement, looking like absolute hell, and he picked up a gun. 

The kid checked that it was loaded in practiced movements, almost with the grace of a soldier. It contrasted sharply with the youth of his face, and the way his shoelaces were untied and tucked into his shoes. It painted a very concerning picture. 

His visitor was just beginning to gather his bearings, hauling himself to his feet with suppressed sounds of pain. He was favoring one leg. The gun was poised at the ready in his arms. 

Never let it be said that Grian was a smart man, given what he did next. 

“You can’t have those here.”

The kid made a strangled noise of alarm as he whipped around to face where Grian now stood apart from his makeshift cover, his hands raised in what he hoped was the universal gesture for ‘I mean no harm’. And then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t the usual kind of chaos that happened around here, but he was going to try his best to take it in stride. What was the worst that could happen? He’d get shot? 

He’d respawn. But the kid was staring at him like he wasn’t aware of that. Like maybe he was counting on the opposite to be true. 

Grian forced himself to look past the very threatening weapon pointed at him to get a better look at the person's face, and he met his eyes. They were a striking shade of green, trained on him with pinpoint accuracy and refusing to waver. At first glance, he looked almost angry. Grian knew, though, that it was only a thinly veiled cover for the heart-stopping panic crowding in behind it. For the confusion and pain and fear. (And why could he read a stranger so well?)

“I won’t hurt you,” Grian said, calm as he could manage, wings tense behind him. “But you’ve got to put the gun down.”

“You can talk,” the kid said, quiet and shaky. Like it was surprising. Something about it made Grian’s chest squeeze. 

“Yeah, I can,” Grian said, gentler now. “So can you. Can you tell me your name?”

The gun trembled for a moment, just slightly, and then went eerily steady once more. The kid swallowed hard and glanced around for a second before locking back on to Grian. 

“You’re not… infected?” The kid asked finally. 

Grian frowned a bit in confusion, his brow furrowing and wings rustling in unease. Infected. It sounded like a word with more weight than was really warranted. Like it came with a history. 

“I’m— No, I’m healthy as a horse,” Grian said, cracking an awkward grin. “Eat my vegetables and everything.”

The kid tilted his head, just slightly, and the gun dipped just a bit more towards the ground. Or, well. Towards Grian’s stomach. 

“A horse?” The kid repeated slowly, still in that carefully quiet tone, and if Grian didn’t know any better he’d think that he didn’t know what a horse was. Maybe he didn’t. 

“Yeah, you know— sort of like cows,” Grian said, now feeling absolutely insane. He was explaining the concept of horses while held at gunpoint. “But they’ve got longer faces, I think. And you can ride them.”

The kid, if anything, seemed more confused by that, and Grian gave up on the agriculture lesson for now. 

“You don’t need that here,” Grian redirected, gesturing carefully at the gun. The kid flinched a little at his movement, and Grian softened his voice as much as he could. “You’re safe, here. It’s safe.”

It was the wrong thing to say. 

The kid's shoulders tensed even further, the gun recentering itself firmly on Grian’s forehead and those oddly familiar green eyes shuttering back into a mask of calm. Only the slight tremble of his mouth gave away his fear. He was scared. A tangle of frustration and heartbreak and helplessness coiled in Grian’s chest. 

“It’s not,” the kid said, firmly. “It’s not safe anywhere.”

Where had he come from, that he believed that?

“Look, you— You see that behind you? It’s a portal,” Grian explained, motioning to it in jerky movements. “Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re somewhere new.”

The kid shook his head, desperate eyes flickering from Grian to the Rift and quickly back again. They were shining with unshed tears, his mouth wobbling almost imperceptibly, and for a moment he looked terribly, horrifically young. Too young to be holding a gun. Too young to be scared of the world. Too young to be so convinced that it couldn’t change. That there was no more hope for things to get better. 

“But I— No. I didn’t go into any portal,” the kid said, voice raising a little, accusing. “Then how did I get here? Did— You did something.”

“No no no,” Grian said, hands raised again. “That thing has a mind of its own, I didn’t do anything. I just sat here.”

“Well I didn’t do anything, either!” The kid said, sounding slightly hysterical. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Grian said, as gentle as he could manage. His protective instincts were going haywire; he didn’t really know why. “Look, just— Weird things just happen sometimes. Trust me, I’d know.”

“Then where am I?” The kid asked, voice shaking horribly. 

“It’s called Hermitcraft,” Grian said, voice still carefully calm. “We’re in my house. Well— Under it.” He paused, hesitating, and his next question came out hushed. “Where did you come from?”

The stranger let out a shaky breath, gun unwavering and silence hanging in the still air around them. He didn’t answer. Grian could guess that it was nowhere good. 

They had run out of ways to stall the inevitable, in which the kid had two options. Shoot him or don’t. They were at a standstill. Something had to give. 

A soft noise from across the cavern interrupted Grian’s racing thoughts, and it took him a moment to place it as a muffled baa from one of the sheep in his sheep farm. It was barely anything, and yet the kid reacted as if it were a creeper beginning to explode, whirling to face the noise with wild eyes, swinging his gun in that direction. Namely, away from Grian.

Before he could think better of it, Grian rushed forwards, using his wings to propel him, and he disarmed the other before he even had the time to yell. A stray bullet shot somewhere into the ceiling in the brief struggle, loud enough that Grian knew someone would be coming round to check on it soon, and when the dust settled he was holding a gun, looking into the pale face of a terrified stranger.

“No!” The kid shouted, the loudest he’d been since he’d arrived, pushing at Grian with shaky shoves as he grappled for the gun. Grian deflected his attacks, heart sinking into his stomach as he watched the other grow increasingly frantic, breaths coming fast. “It’s mine! Give it back, it’s mine! You can’t have it, it— it’s mine. Please, please, it’s—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grian said, out of his depth, practically pleading. “Nothing is going to hurt you, okay? But you— you can’t hurt anyone else, either.”

The kid just shook his head, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes as he backed away, hands in trembling fists at his sides. He glared at Grian with all the fire of a hardened soldier and all the fear of a child, green eyes flashing dangerously. Something prickled at the back of Grian’s neck. Some feeling he couldn’t identify. Déjà vu, maybe.

“It’s mine,” the kid repeated, firmer and quieter. “It has my name on it.”

Grian looked down, mildly curious among the adrenaline and confusion. 

He stopped breathing. Froze completely, hands white-knuckled on the gun. His skin went cold, heart tripping over itself in his chest. 

On the gun, in capital letters, was a name. 

[ SCAR ]

A name that he knew. 

Slowly, Grian looked up, breath hitching in his throat when he met the eyes of the stranger(?), now looking a little confused himself. There was a bandage on the side of his face. Judging by the size of it, it was covering a pretty nasty wound. Likely to leave a scar.

Grian knew exactly what it would look like, when it healed.

“Scar,” Grian said, his voice sounding odd in his own ears, blank and emotionless. “Your name is Scar.”

“I named myself,” the kid — Scar — said, still shaking a little, glancing around near-constantly. 

Grian swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, mind void of any clear thoughts.  “It’s a good name,” he said, chest aching.

“Do you have one?” Scar asked. His hands were fisted in the front of his jacket, twisting anxiously.

“A gun?” Grian asked faintly.

Scar shook his head. “A name.”

“I’m… Grian. My name is Grian.”

“Grian,” Scar repeated, nose wrinkling a little, like he thought it was odd. Scar — his Scar — had made the exact same face last week when he’d come across a problem at his park. Grian felt sick. “You’re—”

The rapidly approaching sound of fireworks cut off whatever the kid had been about to say, and he flinched like he’d been struck, turning wide eyes to the sky as he stumbled a few steps back, towards Grian’s content generator. Grian looked up as well, torn between relief and frustration. The kid had finally seemed to be calming down. 

“It’s okay,” Grian said, rushed and panicked as he held out a placating hand towards Scar. “It’s just one of my friends. They won’t hurt you.”

“Friends?” Tiny scared Scar hissed, like the very idea was ludicrous, and Grian was mildly offended.

Before he could come up with a reply, there was a call of his name from above, and Grian snapped his gaze back skyward, heartrate accelerating. 

Of course, Grian thought, watching as Scar crashed unceremoniously into the ground a few yards away. Of course it was him. Grian took a steadying breath and prepared himself. This was either the best possible option, or the worst. There was no telling where luck would have him fall, this time.

“Grian, I heard explosions!” Scar said, elytra disappearing as he straightened up from his rough landing. “Are you blowing things up without me? You know how much I—”

The builder cut himself off with a strangled noise, face falling quickly into something haunted. Almost scared. Any doubt Grian might have had about who the kid was vanished. They had the same way of being afraid. 

The way Scar was looking at the gun Grian was still holding confirmed it. He was looking at it with wide eyes and tense shoulders, breathing quick and shallow. He was looking at it with recognition.

“Where did you get that?” Scar asked, in a voice that Grian had never heard from him before, dark and small and shaking. 

Wordlessly, Grian stepped out of the way. 

And he watched as Scar locked eyes with his younger self. Just another day on Hermitcraft.

[secretsandwriting]

Even the Destruction of the World Couldn't Keep Me From You

Xisumavoid x reader supervillain au

This is the longest thing I've written in years it feels like. A whole 4.2k words. Also I'm well aware some of their villain names are silly. I just didn't know what to do for them so this is what you got.

You weren’t sure why you of all people were kidnapped. You had of course ran into the Hermits. They were the most notorious group of villains in the area. That was as far as your relationship with any of them went. If you saw a Hermit, you ran, just like how you ran when you saw heroes. The damage from the fights was enough reason to run. 

Yet here you were, changed to a wall and locked in a room by so called heroes. To make matters worse, they weren’t even from your city. They were from the city 50 miles away that had the Villain group Empires and yet they kidnapped you to get answers about the Hermits. You didn’t know why they wanted the information or why they wanted it from you. If you had known anything you would have already reported it. But instead here you were chained to a wall and told to shut up when you asked any questions.

You were rethinking your stance on the heroes. This was ridiculous.

“Alright, let’s get started.” The heroes walked in, “What do you know about the Hermits?” He spun a knife around, a clear threat in the movements. “And don’t tell us ‘nothing’. We have proof you know the hermits.”

“But I don’t know the Hermits! I’ve seen them around, and I’ve run from the chaos they’ve caused but other then that all I know is what the heroes have told us!” The guy with the knife sneered. 

“You don’t know the Hermits? Then why do I have pictures of you making out with Void?”

What?

Apparently silence wasn’t an accepted thing because his knife sliced through part of your arm and stuck into the wall with a dull thud. 

“Do you think I’m stupid? I did my research! I have pictures of you kissing Void! I have videos of you bringing Ninja and Hotguy lunch, dragging G.O.A.T off the battlefield, guiding Zombie to the others and more! You know who they are, so tell me and I might just let you live!”

For what seemed like hours, you were asked questions he claimed you knew the answers to, and when you didn’t give them the right answer another cut was added. Finally something caused them to leave you and let the darkness finally take you. The darkness was kind to you this time and took your pain and replaced it with one of your favorite dreams.

“Come on!” You dragged the taller man behind you, “We have to hurry!” 

“I’m sure there will still be cats when we get there.” The male responded. You couldn’t see his fave and his voice was distorted but his hair was black and right across where his face would be was a scar in the shape of an X. You always figured the X met over his nose but there was no way to really know.

“I know, I just don’t want to risk you changing your mind again.” He scoffed. 

“I would never change my mind!”

“You’ve changed it 5 times about getting a cat already!” The rest of the way to the shelter was filled with teasing and laughter. The time at the shelter was pretty short however. A small black cat climbed into your lap purring and begging for scratches while a chunky orange cat started attacking the guy. You left the shelter with both.

“She’s waking up X.” A female voice ended your dream. “You can have a few minutes but then we need to check her out and make sure we didn’t miss anything.” Thankfully the room wasn’t too bright when you opened your eyes. Your left hand was gently picked  up and squeezed, what felt like a kiss was placed on your palm.

“I’ve missed you darling.” You turned to look at him. The first thing you noticed was the large X scar across his face, the next thing was the soft and gentle look of pure adoration, the third, was his armor. That was Void’s armor. Void the leader of the hermits. Jerking out of his grasp you tried to get away from him.

You can hear someone else trying to calm you down but all you could focus on was Void. The pain that crosses his face the more you try to get away confuses you but not enough to stop. Someone moves between you, blocking your view of him and replacing it with another Hermit. G.O.A.T. Glancing around the large room, you're met with the sight of every single hermit. You were screwed.

The youngest one, the one the new describes as the only non-powered Hermit who seems to be like their child, quickly moved up to you and attached some weird cuffs to your left wrist and his right.

“Anything that happens to you will happen to me while we have these cuffs on.” He then went on to demonstrate it by shocking his finger, when you felt the shock to your own finger you started calming down. Once deemed calm enough, Medic asked you a simple question. 

“Why did you panic when you saw X?” Today must be the day of stupid questions.

“Because He’s Void.” The entire room looked at you in confusion.

“He’s your fiance. You have your engagement ring around your neck.” You glanced down at the ring hanging from your necklace then back to the boy handcuffed to you. “Do you-Do you not remember?”

I woke up in the hospital 2 years ago with no memories. Thorn told me my name and where I worked and lived. At the mention of Thorn, X left the room, there was some murmuring from the other hermits before a few of them followed X out. G.O.A.T sent the rest of them out shortly after. 

“Even if you don’t remember us, we remember you. Therefore you have nothing to worry about. To us, you are a dear friend and out Brother’s fiance.” G.O.A.T Rested a hand on yours and squeezed softly. “No harm will come to you from us. My name is Doc, Stress and I will be taking care of your medical care. Mumbo is the one cuffed to you.”

You let Mumbo undo the cuffs shortly after and allowed them to treat anything that was left. When they were done, X came back in. Doc had told you his name was Xisuma but most people called him X or some rendition of Xisuma. He was quiet when he came back in, eyes red and cheeks wet from tears. You were perched on the edge of the bed, facing the chair he sat down in.

“Let me be selfish.” You looked up from the spot on the floor you were staring at to look at him. All you could see in his face was desperation and pain. “I know you don’t remember but please let me be selfish. Let me hold you at night and stay by your side through the day. I’ve been looking for you for 2 years and 4 months. Now that I have you back I want to keep you close. So please let me be selfish and allow me to stay with you.”

You weren’t really sure what to say. Void, one of the highest ranking villains in the world, was begging you for something. Not only was he begging, but he was sobbing. You really wanted to go home and forget this ever happened but that didn’t really seem like a choice. A part of you questioned if this was a trap. For what, you didn’t know. Another part of your brain reminds you of your dreams with the man and the X on his face. You weren’t really sure how this was going to go, but maybe saying yes would work out better for you.

“Ok.” You had never seen hope grow in a person so fast.

“Ok as in I can?” At your nod, you found yourself wrapped in strong arms and cradled to his chest. Unsure of what to do, you awkwardly wrapped your arms around him and softly rubbed his back through his armor, you weren’t even sure he could feel it. It seemed to be the right thing however because he held you tighter while he sobbed into your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you were there for, just that when he was done crying, he just stayed in your embrace. When he finally parted from you, he took ahold of your hand and guided you through the halls to a room.

“This is our room.” His voice was soft as he spoke. He guided you through it. Telling you were all of your things were and where his was too. You noticed a ring box on what he said was your side. Probably to hold the supposed engagement ring that was around your neck. After your toured the room, you were given a tour of the whole building. The kitchen, living rooms, dining rooms, bathrooms, otter Hermits rooms and so on. Once he was sure he showed you everything, you were guided back to the kitchen. 

Xisuma started cooking, as you watched him work you realized he was making your favorite dish. Not only was he making your favorite, but he was making it exactly how you liked it, with all the little changes and tweaks you preferred. 

Not much was said during dinner, but one of your hands was always intertwined with his. After dinner, you were given a tour of the gardens in the back. You made sure to ignore the wavering in his voice like you had earlier. Once that was finished, you went back to your room for the night. Xisuma handed you one of his shirts and some of your shorts before letting you go change in the bathroom. When the door was slightly open, 2 cats shot out and immediately wrapped around your ankles screaming for attention. One of them decided that wasn’t enough, and the orange one started trying to climb up your leg.

“Des and Ed calm down!” Xisuma scolded the cats before detaching the one that was climbing you and snatching the one still around your ankles before it could start climbing you too. “Sorry, they missed you too, and they won’t let me trim their claws.” They were the cats from your dreams. Xisuma clearly took your staring for something else. “You probably don’t remember their names,” He held out the orange cat. “This is Edgar Allen Paw,” next was the black cat. “This i-”

“Furious the Destroyer.” Xisuma lit up and nodded, “I don’t know how I remember that.” The cats were placed back on the floor and you were pulled into another hug. 

“Eventually you’ll remember everything, but for now, we’ll take it one day at a time.” He gave a small squeeze before letting you go change. The shorts fit perfectly, but Xisuma’s shirt was big on you. It ended shortly before your knees. The smell of it was familiar and comforting but you couldn’t place why exactly it felt like that. So you left the bathroom and found yourself tucked into bed with Xisuma curled up around you. 

“I’m always comfortable when I’m laying with you!” the faceless man with the scar exclaimed, you laughed and dodged a lazy hand swung at you, the force behind it was so weak his arm fell shortly after. 

“You say that, but if we stay like this you’ll be complaining your back hurts tomorrow and I’ll have to listen to it all day!” He sighed before burying his head in your neck and placing feather light kisses on any skin he could reach.

“Let's just stay for a little longer.” The request was murmured against your skin. “We’ll go to bed in a minute but for now I just want to stay here with you.” You sighed but let one of your hands wander to his dark hair. 

“If you fall asleep, I don’t want to hear a single word about your back hurting.” He hummed in agreement, and nuzzled his head closer to your neck. He fell asleep in seconds and you felt yourself shaking your head before joining him in sleep.

When you woke up, it was still dark and Xisuma was still curled into your side, sound asleep. You checked the clock on the nightstand, 12:46 am. Lovely. Xisuma must have noticed your sigh in his sleep and moved closer. 

The thought that Hypno’s dream manipulation powers was the cause for your dreams crossed your mind again. The dreams seemed so personal and intimate that the thought that they weren’t actually yours felt so wrong. 

You turned your gaze towards Xisuma. You couldn’t see much in the dark and his head was tucked into your neck, but the rest of him was somehow curled around you too. Everytime you twitched or moved, he immediately moved closer. 

Clingy.

The thought flew through your head and you had to fight the urge to laugh. It didn’t work. You found yourself giggling in the dark desperately trying to stop so you didn’t wake Xisuma. It was too late for that.

“Whats so funny?” Xisuma’s voice was groggy and he was clearly trying not to move from his spot. You weren’t sure you wanted to tell him but you were probably going to have to. If you could ever catch your breath between giggles. 

“The big bad Void who’s known for his ruthlessness and path of destruction is clingy.” You started giggling harder as he groaned. 

“You said that when you found out the first time. But you went with a clingy simp then.” The giggling got worse at the addition of simp. Something you could see with how the day had been. Xisuma just groaned again. “Is this going to last for an hour again?” 

As the days went on, you got used to the hermits and Xisuma’s constant need to touch you. No one ever told you anything that could explain how or why you lost your memory. Well, that was until you were kidnapped again. This time by someone who looked identical to Xisuma but with red armor and white hair. You found yourself seated in a comfortable chair with a mug of your favorite tea in your hands. 

“So, what did Xisuma do to make you leave for 2 years?” He asked as he settled into his chair and sipped his tea. Something about him seemed familiar, and not just his similar looks to Xisuma. He felt almost comfortable to be around.

“I lost my memory 2 years ago and they found me about a week ago when a hero kidnapped me and tortured me for information. He just stared at you for a second before putting his drink down.

“So you don’t remember anything from before 2 years ago?” You nodded. “Explains why you went radio silent for 2 years… Well in that case, I’m Xavier, Xisuma’s clone… Whats the first thing you remember?”

“Waking up in the hospital and Thorn explaining I had been caught in a hero villain fight. When I said I couldn’t remember anything he found where I lived and worked.”

“Of course it was Thorn.” He seemed to notice your interest. “They didn’t tell you about Thorn did they?” He sighed and picked up his drink, taking a sip while he gathered his thoughts. “Of course they didn’t.”

“Thorn didn’t start as a hero, he was originally a vigilante. Well, he caught the hermits' attention. Thorn was hoping they would ask him to join them, but they weren’t interested in him joining. They wanted him gone, not because he was trying to stop them or too heroic or something like that. They wanted him gone because he had gone off the deep end and while the hermits are villains, they have morals. Thorn does not.” He sipped his tea.

“When he realized they were after him for reasons he didn’t want. He told them he would make them regret it, especially Xisuma. He thought the same thing most people think, because Xisuma is called the leader. Most people think he makes all the decisions when in reality, it's a group vote. While it’s not confirmed, it is theorized that Thorns powers are memory related due to some past things.”

“So that’s why Xisuma left the room when I mentioned him.” Xavier nodded. Taking a sip of your own drink, you mulled over the information. “How do I get my memories back then?”

“No idea. No one’s said anything about it before. Have you gotten any back?” Your dreams popped into your head. 

“I’ve been having dreams… But I don’t know if they’re actually memories. I can’t see anyone specific, just a form with a recognizable feature I guess.” Xavier nodded. 

“If it’s dreams, maybe Hypno could help unlock more. I don’t really know how it works but it's worth a shot.” After that, the conversation just flowed through other much lighter topics until Xavier decided it was time to return you back to Xisuma. 

You didn’t bring it up to Hypno until a week later. You requested that Xisuma not know about it yet and while reluctant Hypno understood your reasoning. Better not to get his hopes up when no one knew if it would work. One night a week, Hypno would try to make your dreams become clearer without messing them up. It didn’t make a difference, but you both decided to continue trying. 

As the weeks dragged on, you found yourself becoming attached to the hermits, not minding it when Xisuma came to you and wrapped you into some sort of physical touch and anxiety and nervousness of being around them went away. 

Weeks turned into months and nothing new had come back in the terms of memories. You could tell it was bothering Xisuma and the other hermits as much as it did you. Hypno continued trying to help you in your dreams, but it wasn’t doing anything. 

So you did the only thing you could think of. Think back on that hospital visit with Thorn to see if you could remember anything that he might have given away. You spent hours every day trying to think of something but it wasn’t until XB invited you to go swimming in the pool like you used to that something popped into your mind. 

“Make sure to avoid ocean water. We found you there and I would hate for you to have a PTSD episode.”

That’s how you found yourself at the beach, starting at the ocean waves in front of you. You were far enough away that the water didn’t even touch you. Just taking a moment to prepare yourself for the cold water. Thankfully, due to the late hour, no one else was there. Which also meant if anything happened, no one would be there to help.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forwards. Not stopping until your head was underwater.

“Your usual?” You asked Xisuma.

“Of course, are you going to spell my name completely wrong again?” You smiled.

“Of course!” He laughed and shook his head before moving down the line to wait at the counter that the finished drinks went too. 

While you were writing a horrible rendition of his name that was so far off it didn’t even sound similar, one of your coworkers gave you a wink and a look, clearly trying to convince you to go through with writing your number on his cup. Sighing, you finally committed to it, writing the digits down while your coworkers silently celebrated behind you. 

Two hours later, you got a text from him.

—

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Xisuma stared at you from his spot on the bench next to you. 

“What’s stopping you?” Xisuma hesitated for a second before taking it as the invitation it was. He was so gentle and careful and he pulled you closer, one of his hands resting against your waist the other at the back of your neck. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

—

“Why do you want me to let you into Xisuma’s room?” You asked Grian and Scar who stood in the doorway. Xisuma had left for some sort of meeting and you were getting ready to go to work when Grian and Scar knocked on the door.

“We want to dye some of his clothes pink.” 

“Just make sure he still has one white button up and a pair of nice black pants when your done, we have a date Friday and if it gets postponed because you messed all his clothes up I will personally arrange your torture and death.” They both shivered and nodded. You made sure to ignore them while you finished getting ready.

—

“I have something I need to tell you.” Xisuma pulled you away from your project and to a nearby couch in your room. “I’m the villain Void.” You blinked at him.

“Did you really have to pull me from my project for a joke?” You sighed.

“No, I’m serious, I’m Void.” He opened a small rift next to you, hoping that this wouldn’t be the end of the relationship. He struggled to read anything off of you as you stared at the rift. 

“But you're just a clingy simp who can barely remember where you leave things.” Xisuma snorted. Of course you would say that. “Is that why you always have so many bruises, why your gone so late sometimes and why you always give such bad excuses for not being able to do things?” Xisuma nodded, holding his breath.

“I understand it's a lot to process but I need you to know this doesn’t change anything. I love you and always have loved you and will always continue to love you.” 

“I just need some time to think about this.”

Later that night, you woke him up with your giggling. 

—

“They’re so lucky I like all of them.” You sighed as you tried calling Xisuma again. He didn’t answer. Neither did Tango, Etho, Impulse or Doc. There was one other person you could call who could find them easily. 

“Hey Iskall, sorry to bother you. Do you know where Xisuma, Etho, Tango, Impulse and Doc are? They didn’t eat breakfast or take lunch so I’m trying to bring them some but no one will answer their phone.” Within seconds, Iskall had hacked their phones and gave you a location. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away. 

When you showed up. All five were huddled over some contraption they were making, not paying much attention to their surroundings. 

“It’s a good thing I’m not a hero or you all would have been captured in seconds.” The entire group turned to look at you like deer in the headlights. “I brought you lunch since none of you have eaten today, but considering how none of you answered my texts or calls I’m not sure you really want it.”

Immediately there were apologies and protests. You just laughed at them as they tried to defend themselves. Eventually you decided to accept whatever they were saying as good enough and handed out the lunches to the five. Xisuma was kind enough to give you a kiss before he dug in like the rest of the group. 

“More of the hermits need to get into relationships if this is the treatment we get from it!” You laughed at Etho’s statement before saying goodbye and heading to work. 

—

“This way!” Xisuma tugged you over to the Gazebo in the middle of the gardens you were visiting. “It has the best view of all the flowers.”

Xisuma wasn’t lying when he claimed it was the best view. Fields of flowers of all types were laid out in front of you. The sunlight made the bright colors pop out of the green, the smell of the flowers was strong and sweet, making it so you never wanted to leave.

You turned to Xisuma to see his reaction, only to find him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. You didn’t even let him give the little speech he had clearly practiced before saying yes and letting yourself drop into his arms. There in his arms, he whispered something in your ear.

“Even the destruction of the earth couldn’t keep me away from you.”

The ring was slid onto your fingers and when you got back to the main building, the other hermits swarmed the two of you.

You were pulled out of the water, gasping for breath. You hadn’t realized you had been under for that long. Glancing up, you were met with Xisuma’s terrified face. Xisuma, your fiance, the love of your life. You didn’t even know how you could have forgotten. 

Xisuma clearly wasn’t expecting to be pulled into a kiss after pulling you up from the bottom of the ocean but he melted into it either way. His arms tightened around your waist and one of your hands found it’s way to the back of Xisuma’s head. 

“Even the destruction of the earth couldn’t keep me away from you.” Xisuma teared up, desperately searching your eyes. “I remember Xisuma. I remember everything!” You found yourself being pulled back down into another kiss. 

“We should head back to shore.” Xisuma’s voice was thick and shaking against your lips, you wiped his tears from his face before stealing another kiss.

“Let's go home Xisuma.”

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

Ticking Time Bomb 1/?

Sweet Home Mini Series [1.37K Words]

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work to other sites or claim as your own, this is purely written from my imagination and from the help of the series. All rights of the main storyline goes to the writers and producers of Sweet Home.

Summary: The world has been overrun by monsters due to our own selfish desires. Pride. Greed. Wrath. Envy. Lust. Gluttony. Sloth.

WARNINGS: SWEET HOME AU // GORE // BLOOD // HORROR THEMES // APOCALYPTIC // HEARTBREAK // MONSTERS // MENTIONS OF DEATH // MENTIONS OF SUICIDE // MENTIONS OF SELF HARM // USE OF Y/N // SHE/HER PRONOUNS // FEMALE READER // UNEDITED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

It had started with a simple nose bleed. Blood cascading down the lower half of her face, caking her skin in a thick crimson layer. No amount of tissue could plug the stream gushing out of her nose, it was never ending.

Soon came the voices and hallucinations. It was different from the usual times she would hear herself talk, this time it sounded disparate - distorted in a sense. Degrading and belittling her, telling her to give in to her sins and to let it cleanse her of all the negative thoughts and feelings swimming in the deep, dark pit of her chest.

Then there was quiet. Peace. Not a single breath could be heard. But it seemed a switch had been flipped, the painful screams ripping from her throat as a burning sensation overcame her body. It was like her body was set alight, fire coursing just below her skin and deep within her bones. It was like no other feeling she had ever experienced.

Soon followed darkness. Just an empty void. Her consciousness was locked away deep inside her mind, like her brain had put her on pause until further notice. Floating weightlessly within the depths of her mind, free from the thoughts and torment her own subconscious inflicted upon her.

Y/n shot up with a gasp, her skin was clammy with cold sweat. Her clothes clinging to her body as she pushed the damp locks away from her face. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Or so she kept telling herself. Her eyes were still clouded with sleep, blinking a few times as they slowly focused. The young girl looked around, breathing a sigh of relief once she took in the surroundings around her.

The day-care, on the ground level of Green Home, was packed tightly with the residents from the upper floors, all spread out on the floor sleeping somewhat peacefully. Y/n pushed herself up off the floor, carefully stepping over stretched out limbs as she trudged out of the room. The air was cold, something she wouldn't usually welcome but it was a big contrast to her burning skin. The young girl had sat on the floor of the lobby, staring out of the main doors enshrouded by the shutters as she took in the destruction outside the complex. Monsters roaming around carelessly, cars tipped over on their sides, buildings barely standing. It was the complete opposite of how the city looked a couple days ago.

Shuffling could be heard beside the girl, it was quiet but she still heard it. Y/n turned her head slowly to look at what, or who, was making the noise, only to see the brooding Pyeon Sang-Wook leaning against the wall beside her; a cigarette perched between his lips. Burn scars littered the side of his face, travelling down his neck tucking itself away into the collar of his leaf print shirt. No one knew much about Sang-Wook, he looked like a force to be reckoned with and that was enough for the other residents to steer clear of him, though not the younger Lee sibling. Eun-Yu could be seen trailing behind the man every chance she had, it was endearing in an odd sort of way.

Y/n turned back around, ignoring him like she did with everyone else. She was an antisocial little thing, keeping to herself even while the world ended in front of her very eyes. The only person she seemed to tolerate was Cha Hyun-Su and still, it was to a bare minimum. The pair never really talked, instead she would sit outside the door to the room he had been locked away in, staring at him like he was some kind of science experiment. She didn't care he was part monster, no, she was intrigued by it.

Sang-Wook eyed the young girl, deep brown irises taking in the side of her face that was on view for him to see. Deep purple bags kissing below her eyes, making them look sunken. Her skin looked pale, but maybe that was just down to being locked inside the complex with near to no sunlight. The older man was quiet, observing her like she was nothing he had ever seen before.

"Even if the world has ended, you could still have some manners and not stare." Y/n spoke up, her voice a little gravely. She didn't need to look at him to know the exact look on his face. Eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, his jaw ticked faintly that even someone with 20/20 vision wouldn't be able to pick it up. Sang-Wook scoffed, taking a long drag of his cigarette though he didn't speak, he never did. It was something Y/n loathed. The young girl huffed, turning her whole body to face Sang-Wook as she stared up at him.

"The scars. How did you get them?" She spoke up once more, this was the first time she had spoken more than one sentence to anyone in Green Home. Her eye's were trained on the older man, almost taunting him as she leaned forward on her elbows. Sang-Wook still didn't answer, just looking at her with a blank expression. The pair were interrupted from their mini staring contest by Lee Eun-Hyuk, the appointed leader of Green Home.

His glasses sat snuggly on the bridge of his nose as he looked between the two with a knowing gaze, his honey brown eyes locking onto Y/n's face for a moment before he looked away. "Why are you awake?" And there it was, the tone of pure annoyance. Y/n looked up at Eun-Hyuk quizzically, her head tilted to the side as if she didn't know what he was talking about. Though she didn't utter a single word, opting for staying quiet as she turn back around to peer out between the shutters once more.

It had been approximately four days since the outbreak. The residents of Green Home all crowding around together in the lobby as Eun-Hyuk explained the buddy system to everyone, telling them they always had to have their counterpart with them at all times in case a monster somehow got into the building. Y/n had the unfortunate pleasure of being paired up with Eun-Hyuk himself, saying something along the lines of "I don't trust you can take care of yourself." Which had earned an irritated grumble from the girl, muttering insults under her breath as she slumped back against the steps leading up to the now blocked stairwell.

It wasn't that she hated Eun-Hyuk, she just didn't believe in his views or entirely like how he lead the group of survivors but like she could do any better. The young girl trailed behind Eun-Hyuk, her hands shoved into the pockets of the dirtied hoodie that barely fit her. She followed the older Lee sibling everywhere, from the security office all the way to the bathroom where she stood outside tapping her foot impatiently, and yet she still didn't talk. That was until she saw fit.

Everyone was chilling in the day-care, opening the packages they had gotten before the lockdown had happened. Chatting away about what they would do once everything was back to normal. Just outside the room though, Eun-Hyuk was talking with Hyun-Su, Sang-Wook and Yi-Kyeong about going down into the garage to see if there was a way out. Y/n was leaning against one of the walls, listening in on the conversation.

"I want to go. I know where they keep the keys to the cars down there." She spoke up, her voice just loud enough for the group to turn around and look at her in shock. "Not happening." Eun-Hyuk was the first to say anything, his eyebrows knitted together as he scowled at the girl. "If you're going down there then I have to too, buddy." Sarcasm laced her tone as she spoke, her eyes glaring at Eun-Hyuk slightly. And just like that, she had been accepted as part of their little group of monster hunters.

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[hopepetal]

Hi!

So @applestruda and I have been working on a little thing for the boatem knights au. I hope you enjoy this next arc of the story as much as we do.

You can find the masterlist of the previous bkau fic here, and I will be posting this on ao3 as well.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated :)

Impulse was painfully, bitterly, human. Just a normal guy, with normal hair and normal eyes and friends that were anything but. Even Mumbo, who he'd thought to be his one human companion, turned out to be something different. Something special.

When it had finally been revealed to the knights that Mumbo was, in fact, a shapeshifter, no one was really surprised. With the amount of non-humans in the group, and magically gifted ones besides, it was only a matter of time before Mumbo revealed that he was obviously, not human.

While they were all joking around and laughing over Mumbo's newly revealed ability, Scar had turned to Impulse with that friendly smile of his and asked, “So, when are you gonna reveal your super secret backstory to us, Impulse?”

Impulse had laughed off the pang of bitterness and guilt combined (and how stupid was that, feeling guilty over the fact that he didn't have a special ability or secret backstory to reveal?) and shook his head. “Nah,” he had responded with a shrug, “I'm just a guy. Just Impulse.”

Just a guy. Just Impulse. 

Simple words that had become a mantra over the past few days, lingering in the back of Impulse's mind. A whispered chant, just audible enough to catch his attention but hardly loud enough to deserve a shushing. They were an apt description of what he was– of who he was, of course, and Impulse knew that. He had known that all his life, and, up until this point, had convinced himself that he was fine with that.

(He never had been ‘fine’ with it in the first place. It’s why he trained from dawn till dusk for years, honing his strength and skills. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t breathe underwater, couldn’t withstand a fiery blaze, and most certainly couldn’t teleport. But he was smart, and he was strong, and that was enough. Wasn’t it?)

Mumbo was good with redstone, too. He was a genius, even. What with his constant inventions and how he thought outside of the traditional redstone conventions, and the way he brushed off any compliments with a wave and a soft, “It’s quite simple, really.” 

Impulse’s mother had told him that everyone was special. That they were all made up of stardust and the love of the universe. It was an old wive’s tale, but it had been comforting. 

Now, surrounded by shapeshifters and avians and magical beings, Impulse was wondering if the universe forgot to give him a little stardust.

The sun had just begun to rise, bathing the world in its golden light, as Impulse got dressed and headed out to the makeshift training area to work on his swordplay. It wasn’t long before he was hacking away at one of the many training dummies the knights had made together in an effort to “work on their arts and crafts skills”, going through the familiar motions of a swordfight. 

Just a guy. Just Impulse. 

He’d always wondered what it was like to fly. To dive deep into the ocean, without fear of drowning. To never feel the terrible pain of burns, or to get to where you wanted to be instantly.

Just a guy. Just Impulse. 

It wasn’t like being a human was bad. Not at all! Being human was great! He didn’t have to worry about getting hurt by the rain, or his wings being targeted in battle, or, void forbid, being hunted for sport. He could do so much as a human! 

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

Just a guy.

Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he continued fighting, his breaths coming in short pants. In his mind’s eye, the training dummy was an enemy, and it was his job to defeat it. Slicing and stabbing and slashing, Impulse went back and forth in a dance all his own, in a battle that held no weight on the future. 

Just–

“Impulse?”

Pulled from his reverie, Impulse stumbled to a rather clumsy halt, his sword arm falling to his side as he looked over for who called his name. Standing at the edge of the arena was Pearl, leaning against the little wooden fence that surrounded it. She wore a bright smile as always, but something akin to concern shone in her eyes, barely hidden.

“Huh?” Impulse got out, before blinking and shaking his head. “Sorry, Pearl, I uh– I didn’t see you there. Were you calling me?” His muscles were aching, and he was absolutely drenched in sweat. Just how long had he been training for?

Pearl nodded. “Yeah, mate. You were fighting that dummy with the intention to kill, huh?” she joked, gesturing to the very much falling apart training dummy. She continued, “You were training for a while. Lost in your own world, were ya?”

Impulse glanced up at the sky, internally wincing at how high the sun had climbed without him noticing. “Yeahhh…” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Kinda got caught up in my own thoughts, y’know.” He looked over at the training dummy. “Uh… sorry, mister dummy,” he apologized awkwardly, which Pearl found hilarious judging by her soft laughter. 

“You should come get some breakfast and wash up,” Pearl advised, “I’m heading to the village in a bit to pick up some stuff– do you wanna come with?”

Impulse shrugged, before walking over to where Pearl was and hopping the fence. “Sounds like fun, and I don’t have anything else planned.” 

Pearl grinned, and gave Impulse a fistbump. “Great! I’ll go get the horses ready, if you wanna go eat and change real quick?”

“Will do!” Impulse gave her an over the top salute. “Thanks, Pearl!” 

He began to head back to his tent at a slow jog, and decided that maybe it was best if he ignored that soft voice in his head. His friends were incredibly perceptive, and the last thing that he wanted was for them to get all worried about him and start asking questions. 

Would they judge you? Call you jealous? 

Maybe. And maybe Impulse was jealous, at least a little. Did that make him a bad person? For wishing he could be more than what he was? For hoping that he had some chance at standing on the same level as his friends?

Impulse tried to shake those thoughts out of his head as he quickly scarfed down some breakfast and changed out of his sweat-soaked training clothes. Pearl had just finished with getting the horses ready by the time Impulse returned, and greeted him with a smile. “Ready to go?”

Impulse returned her grin as he mounted his horse. “You know it. Road trip time!” 

The trip to the village was a short but pleasant ride through the forest, on a well-worn path the knights had traveled many times. Impulse and Pearl made idle conversation as they rode, Pearl mentioning that she wanted to stop by a couple of shops and the library. They arrived at the village after about thirty minutes and dismounted, tying their horses reins to the hitching post before grabbing their bags and walking into the village.

Impulse had been here before, of course, but visits had been rare recently with… well, everything that had happened. It was nice to get back out and just walk through the village, without any life-threatening or world-ending danger looming over their heads. And as a bonus, he got to hang out with Pearl, which he always enjoyed. 

They went through the shops one by one, Pearl picking up supplies and things they had run out of. Eventually, they were finished, and Pearl pulled Impulse rather excitedly toward the library. He didn’t blame her– he was the exact same way around candy shops. Everyone needed a place that they were excited to go to, in his opinion. 

The librarian– a woman with messy black hair– looked up from behind the counter and greeted them with a nod, before going back to reading her book. Impulse caught a glimpse of the name tag that was pinned to her shirt, the name ‘Evelyn’ written in neat cursive. 

Pearl led Impulse into a room full of bookshelves and, of course, books. “I’m going to go look for some books,” she whispered to him, “you can go off and see if there’s anything that catches your eye.”

Impulse nodded. “Alright. See you in a bit,” he whispered back, and watched Pearl disappear into the maze of bookshelves. 

Looking around, Impulse began to wander. The library was well stocked with literature on nearly every subject he could think of, with golden labels on the end of every bookshelf to indicate what the books in that particular section were about. He found himself walking past the shelves that normally would’ve had his attention– books about redstone and industry ignored as he gazed at the shelves. 

Finally, a particular bookshelf caught his eye. The label told him that the books here were about all things supernatural, and with a shrug, he began to walk through the aisle. Most books seemed to be rather thick, scholarly texts, which made sense given the topic. A couple books drew his attention– an old book with a faded purple cover and block letters that spelled out Evolution in all capitals, a book on curses, and a book that probably had been misplaced, given its title– The Legend of Theseus. The mythology shelf was right next to the supernatural one, so Impulse took the book and brought it back to where it was hopefully supposed to be. 

Once the book was back in the mythology section– next to a very old book with a cracked spine and strange symbols on the cover– Impulse headed back to the supernatural section, glancing over the titles with relative disinterest until a particular book caught his eye. He bent down and carefully took it from the shelf, instinctively brushing off the cover and flipping it open to the cover page. Skimming the summary of the book, Impulse found himself nodding along to the words.

He closed the book and glanced around. Pearl was nowhere to be seen, so he likely still had some time. Tucking the book under his arm, Impulse walked back to the main room of the library, placing the book on the counter. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and Evelyn looked up from her book. “I’d like to check this out, please.” 

Evelyn took the book, looking at the spine and writing down something on the sheet in front of her. “An’ what’s your name, sir?” she asked, not looking up from the sheet. 

Impulse blinked. “Ah– uh, Impulse.”

Evelyn wrote his name down, before setting her red feather pen down and handing him the book. “Alright, sir. If you’d please return this by the end of next month, and no writin’ or rippin’ any pages out unless you wanna pay for it.”

Impulse took the book and placed it in his bag with a thank you, just as Pearl returned with her collection of books. She gave him a smile, which Impulse returned– albeit a little nervously. 

As they were walking out of the library, Pearl asked Impulse if he had seen anything he liked. Impulse answered with a shrug and a shake of his head. “Nah. I’m not much of a reader.”

Something must’ve spooked the horses while they were gone, as Impulse’s horse was clearly nervous when they returned. He calmed the horse down with a bit of petting and a treat Pearl had bought for their horses before mounting up and beginning the journey back home.

It was a little past noon when they returned, and they were greeted by Scar and a barely awake Grian. Mumbo was busy working on something, but he soon ran over to say hi and help with the supplies and horses. 

The rest of the day went by as normally as it could– it was a calm day for the most part, the only “mishap” being Grian stealing Mumbo’s rocket launcher as revenge for drawing a mustache on him while he slept. They all ate dinner together as they usually did, and after, Impulse left to go to his tent.

Finally alone and in the quiet, Impulse took the book out from his bag, brushing his fingers over the title. 

The Art of Summoning - Demons. 

He opened the book.

Obviously, a book given out at a library wasn’t about to teach him how to summon a demon– void knows he didn’t want to do that, anyway– but Impulse had always been fascinated by demons. He had been told a lot of stories as a child, which probably was the reason for his interest, but there was also… something else. He had been drawn– pulled to this book, almost. As if by magic, or something. 

…some demons can grant their summoner a wish– whether it be super strength, speed, or even flight, there have been records of people making a contract with a demon for their own benefit. When asked why, many of their answers were similar. They wanted to be unique, or special, and had become desperate.

That… sounded familiar. Impulse pressed his lips together in a thin line as he continued to read. He obviously wasn’t desperate enough to summon a demon– he doubted he would even be able to if he wanted to! Which he didn’t. Because that would be crazy. 

As he went to turn the page, a sharp pain shot through the tip of his finger. Impulse sucked in air through his teeth as he yanked his hand away, examining the fresh papercut. “Oh, come on…” He shook out his hand, annoyed, before going to flip the page. 

As soon as he touched the book, Impulse found that his fingers were almost glued to the page. He couldn’t pull away, couldn’t pull the book off his hand, though he tried frantically to do so. It was then that he noticed a small bead of blood had welled up from the cut, and smeared on the page when he had gone to flip it again. 

That… was probably bad.

Just as he was considering calling for help, a soft voice spoke up in his mind. Not soft enough to be inaudible, but not loud enough to be quieted. 

Hello.

Impulse tensed up, looking around the tent. “...I didn’t mean to summon you,” he began, “assuming you’re…?”

A demon? The voice was… quite pleasant, actually. Not like anything Impulse had thought a demon would sound like. Yes, I am one. And you haven’t summoned me. Just drawn my attention. I’ve been trapped in this book for quite some time, you see. It’s been a long while since anyone has opened it.

“Why were you trapped inside the book?” Impulse asked, still on edge. “What did you do?”

Well, that’s rude. The demon sounded as if it were pouting, as if Impulse had offended it. I didn’t do anything. I just… It sighed, and its voice took on a tone of loneliness. I was young when I came to this world. I… wanted to be different, I guess, from the rest of the demons. Everyone had this cool thing going for them… one could curse multiple people at once, one could take human form, and everyone else… had something that made them special. I didn’t. I’m just your regular ol’ demon, residing in your thoughts.

Impulse frowned, settling the book carefully on his lap. “So… why did you get put in the book?”

I’m getting to that. I… got excited. I wanted to show everyone that I was special, too, by cursing someone. I didn’t really think things through. The demon paused. I don’t even want to curse someone, anymore. I just want to go home.

“I’m… sorry…” Impulse began, “that sounds really rough.” He sighed, leaning back slightly. “I get it, though, as crazy as that sounds.” He briefly debated on whether or not he should tell someone– a demon, no less– about what he’d been going through. “I’m… the only human in my friend group,” he started, hesitant, “and it’s just… I’ve always been just a guy. Just Impulse. And no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to change that.”

There was a moment of silence, and Impulse could almost feel the demon thinking. Well… maybe you could. Maybe, we could both help each other out.

Impulse’s brow furrowed. “What are you thinking of?” 

I know, you were against summoning demons earlier, but… hear me out, okay? I could tell you how to summon me, and not only would that free me from this book, but I could also maybe grant your wish! 

The demon sounded… genuinely so excited at the prospect of being freed. Being trapped, all alone, for however long it had been, must’ve been really difficult. Impulse didn’t blame the demon for wanting to be free. He would want the same thing, were he in the demon’s position. 

…and maybe, just maybe, a small, selfish part of him spoke up and influenced his reasoning. But Impulse closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed. “Alright. I’ll help you. Tell me how to summon you.”

Excellent choice! Alright, first things first, you’re going to…

Impulse was painfully, bitterly human.

He refused to be just Impulse forever. 

[jeonzaxs]

amidst chaos ⋟ jjk

SUMMARY; you shouldnt harbor these feelings not amidst chaos.

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

genre; love at first sight! zombie apocalypse!au

warnings; just two idiots in love. slight against. angst. mention of blood, bruises and death. just too much fluff i think or cliche. lower case intended.

word count; 700+

notes; another repost from my old account!! my second published baby. im pretty proud about this you could say. feedback and reblogs mean so much to me, please dont be shy to. enjoy <3

your eyes drift to the handsome looking man, a few scratches adorning his face and blood leaking from his nose, a gasp leaves your mouth as you turn back to the other who hit him, eyebrows furrowed in anger "fuck- jay, i know we cant trust him yet but you cannot give him a bleeding nose, idiot” you cuss, smacking the red head on his nape as he hisses and steps back without a word.

when your eyes meet the male again, you find yourself breathless. gold shadows the corner of your vision, and jungkook finds the surrounding mute, only your eyes and voice echoing throughout. you look away, clearing your throat, and speaking up "why are you here?” voice cautious as the man replies, "i'm Jungkook, and i was hoping you had some space for another person?" he asks, voice saccharine sweet, and you inspect him, eyes wandering over him as he rolls up his sleeves and bares his neck to show that he’s void of any bites and that he’s not infected. you nod and introduce yourself "i'm _____, i run this group". 

jungkook perks up at your name, he has seen you in class often, you were always within your book and the fact that you're running a group in this apocalypse amuses him, and he can't help but like you even more.

he lends his hand out, a boyish smile playing on his lips. You look up at him, hesitantly shaking his hands, and then your eyes glare at Jay, daring, and he clears his throat. "uh, i'm sorry" he mumbles before stepping backwards, his girlfriend tilting her head as she introduces herself "i'm lily, welcome" a small teasing smile plays on her lips as she looks at you, throwing a playful glance and to that you hiss like a cat.

jungkook wipes his bleeding nose and observes you, he likes the way you hiss, he likes the strands of hair falling to the sides of your face and wishes to push them behind. he repeats your name in his head and thinks that it definitely suits you. the small scratches and the worn out green uniform compliment your figure so much that he finds it hard to just look away. he clears his throat again, attempting conversation "well, uh do we have a schedule or something like that?" you nod to that question, but your eyes shying away from him "yes, we do. we take trips to the canteen to find food, and we also take rounds guarding at night".

he sits down by the chair beside him and asks again, curiosity brimming his head "have you guys had any attacks? any infected?" he hopes you answer again, just to hear your voice, but your friend beats it to him as she replies "yes. we’ve had around two attacks and any infected? none, yet." her face is absent of fear and he notices that all of you look calm in such a situation. 

it's been five days since the whole rupture occurred, so many died and many cried. you and your friends have survived by luck, is what you think. you're grateful that you have found this room to sleep and eat. scars litter all of your faces, most of them have dried up and you now take a look at jungkook and he seems courageous, his doe-eyes warming your heart and giving you some hope. you find some sort of safety in his being.

jeon jungkook is not unknown at all, he is the infamous heartthrob, known to be good at everything. he is disciplined and strong. He is athletic and sweet. jungkook is the one who receives endless letters on valentine's day and has a group of girls always cooing at him, but he is well mannered and does not swell with pride.

you would be lying if you said you hadn't noticed him, the first time you stepped onto campus. he turns heads everywhere he goes, and now, seeing him sitting by that chair. your heart beats faster, breathing labored. you should not be harboring such feelings in the middle of blood and screams. not when you could get bitten anytime. not amidst chaos.

all rights reserved © jeonzaxs. reposting, translating and modifying is not permitted.