#stuff made to sample hey

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: BOSTON'S ENGAGEMENT PROPOSAL * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where, at the Boston show of the Surprise Party Tour, Matt finally reveals his first solo surprise of the tour: proposing to Y/N.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt felt like a complete idiot.

Which was honestly fine.

Normal, even.

Because what else are you supposed to feel when you walk into Tiffany & Co alone, camera in one hand, jacket half-zipped, and the literal knowledge in your brain that today’s the day you buy your engagement ring?

The second the glass doors swished shut behind him, he instantly felt underdressed. The place was too clean. Too bright. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet where even your footsteps sound loud, and you’re 90% sure the floor costs more than your car.

"Okay." He muttered, clicking on the small camera in his hand, flipping the screen so he could see himself, waving with his free hand. His messy strands were doing their own thing, and his voice cracked a little. "Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

The Tiffany logo glimmered in the reflection behind him, all silver and serious. He turned the lens toward the inside of the store, slowly panning across the display cases that sparkled so hard it hurt to look at them.

Everything was white and silver and pale blue. Velvet chairs. Smooth marble counters. Employees moving around like they were floating, all super polished and weirdly calm, which was the opposite of how he felt.

He found a small table in the center of the room with a modern glass vase on it and propped his camera there using the tiny tripod suction he’d brought.

"I sent an entire email explaining this to the brand and asking for permission to record it. They gave me it. I even brought it printed." He laughed breathlessly, angling the lens to frame the table and the chairs across from it.

Matt sat down and let out a quiet breath, tapping his fingers anxiously on the edge of the table.

He didn’t really know what he was expecting walking in here. Like maybe it would hit him differently, feel more real. But all he felt was this warm weight in his chest and the nonstop loop in his head.

Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.

A woman appeared after a few moments, dressed in sleek black with a small Tiffany-blue badge on her chest. Her heels clicked quietly as she walked toward him, her smile calm and super professional but not cold.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She said warmly.

"Yeah, hey." He stood up awkwardly, then realized she didn’t expect that and just kind of hovered in a weird half-stand before sitting back down.

She smiled kindly.

"I’m Elena. Thank you for coming in today. I've been informed of your plans."

He nodded.

"That's great! Thank you."

Elena let out a soft laugh at how stiff he looked and pulled up a chair across from him.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The words still made his brain stutter. But he nodded.

"Okay, then let's start." She said, already opening a small black folder in front of her.

Matt sat back and rubbed his beard covered jaw. The room felt big. And small. And too real.

"Alright." Elena said, flipping open a tray of sample bands, all lined in rows with tiny cards that probably had words like platinum and cushion cut on them. "Let’s talk about her. What does she like?"

Matt blinked at the rings for a second, overwhelmed by sparkle. Then he focused.

"She actually wears a lot of jewelry." He started, voice calmer now that they were actually talking logistics. "She wears gold more than silver, but like both. And she hates anything super chunky or loud. She's more into the delicate, kinda simple stuff. Like she has these tiny gold hoops she wears almost every day and these little rings that look like... minimalist or whatever."

Elena nodded, already pulling a few bands from the tray and setting them aside.

"This gives us a lot to play with, actually."

"Good." Matt said, nodding. "She also... okay, I don’t know if this helps, but she likes stuff that’s classic but not boring, y’know? She’s not trendy. That sounds kinda corny, but..."

"No, that’s perfect." Elena said, already unlocking another small drawer in the case nearby.

Matt glanced down at all the million options, fingers drumming a quiet beat against the edge as his brain tried to concentrate.

Fuck, he wished his brothers were there.

Chris would’ve made him laugh to calm him down while Nick would’ve asked twenty questions about resale value and the clarity of the stone or whatever.

It was weird doing something this big without them next to him. Like losing your phone and realizing how much you depended on it. He was so used to them being right there in every step.

But not this time.

This was just him.

"Here." Elena said gently, breaking the spiral as she placed a new tray in front of him. "I think we’re getting close."

Matt leaned in, eyes scanning the rings. One stood out immediately.

It was delicate, so thin he almost missed the band entirely. A single oval-cut diamond sat in the middle with six claws holding it in place, no extra flash, no weird shapes, just clean and clear and... her.

He pointed to it, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"That one’s really nice."

Elena smiled like she’d been waiting for him to say that.

"That’s one of our most classic solitaire styles. Platinum band. Oval diamond."

He tilted his head.

"Yeah... she’d actually wear that. Like she’d live in that."

"Exactly." Elena said. "You want something she’ll love now and thirty years from now."

They added a curved matching band that hugged the engagement ring perfectly. It looked like the two rings were designed to never be apart.

Matt stared at them for a second too long.

"Can I- uh... get a second to record this?" He asked, already reaching for his camera and bringing it closer.

He lifted the box gently, showing the rings to the lens and whispering.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

The big screen flicked for a millisecond before showing the banner with 'SURPRISE' written in big white letters.

The noise was immediate, and it only seemed to increase when the countdown appeared seconds after, huge and bold across the giant screen. The numbers started ticking down from 5, all in that signature grainy style.

The theater echoed with voices. People clutched their phones tighter. Someone behind Y/N whispered a breathless "Oh my god, it has to be Matt", but she didn’t even register it at first, her eyes glued to the screen.

And then, there he was.

Matt.

Standing in front of a camera, looking directly into it while adjusting his tie.

The crowd lost it.

They weren’t even at fault for their reaction. Six shows had passed through, and Matt wasn't the one bringing a solo surprise in none of them.

Matt smiled at the screams. He stood up from the orange couch on the left, where he’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Chris, and grabbed his mic.

The crowd didn’t calm down. If anything, they screamed harder, but there was something about his nervous little laugh that softened everything around it.

He walked to the side of the stage, shoes scuffing the dark wood, and turned toward one of the wooden shelves that were part of the set.

"Okay, okay." Matt said into the mic, voice shaking slightly but still him. "I’m gonna need you guys to chill a little, like, just enough for me to hear myself, alright?"

The crowd laughed but actually obeyed. Kind of.

"I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time." He admitted, glancing out at the audience like they were all his best friends and not strangers in a dark room. "And I’ve honestly never been this nervous before."

He paused.

Looked down.

And without needing to search, his eyes dropped straight to the middle seat in the front row.

Y/N.

There she was, sitting all cute and clueless, smiling so big it almost hurt him. She had that gentle sparkle in her eyes that only came out when she was happy in quiet ways.

She had no idea. Not even close. And God, she was going to freak out.

Matt felt his heart full-on trip over itself.

She was wearing the red and black Ralph Lauren jacket he had used on Philadelphia, and her hands were folded over her legs. She was watching him like she was proud just to see him standing there. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And that made it worse.

And better.

And way harder not to cry.

Chris and Nick were now on the left couch, explaining the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint Matt was going to show to the public.

"Matt." Chris called, adjusting his mic. "We’re gonna be here all night if you don’t open that damn shelf."

The crowd cracked up.

Matt rolled his eyes dramatically to the audience, grinning as he turned back toward the cabinet door.

"Okay." He said, laughing through his nose. He reached out, fingers gripping the cool handle. "Let’s see what the hint is."

He pulled it open.

A ring.

Not the ring.

Just a ring.

It was chunky and bold and totally not bridal. Something from Paula, their stylist. Gold with a flat top, engraved with something random that didn’t matter.

Matt grabbed it and shut the cabinet again, turning around. He made his way back to the couch, but instead of sitting down, he stood in front of his brothers and held up the ring for them to see.

Nick leaned forward.

"What is that? A mafia ring?"

Chris squinted.

"Wait, wait- is your surprise a jewelry line? Are you releasing jewelry for Yesterday's Problem now?"

The mention of Matt's mystery brand made a crazy effect over the crowd, who screamed and begged for it to be about Yesterday's Problem.

Matt raised his eyebrows at the youngest.

"No, of course not." He pressed his lips together in a smug kind of way, then looked over his shoulder to the crowd. "Y’all are so off." He laughed under his breath.

Nick sat back with his arms crossed.

"This is too vague."

Matt ignored him. He tucked the fake ring in his jacket right pocket, feeling it clinking against the hidden velvet box, and finally walked over to the opposite couch.

He sat down slowly, smoothing his jeans and adjusting his mic. And for the first time, he looked up, not at the crowd, not at his brothers, but to the grandstand section near the side stage.

He found them instantly.

His parents. Nate. Mikayla. Sam.

All there. All watching.

Their expressions were... hard to read. Focused. Neutral, but expectant. His mom had her hands clasped near her chin, her brows slightly knit. His dad was still.

Matt swallowed. Looked back to the screen.

"Well, let's see what I did."

And then the video started.

It didn’t come with any fanfare or intro, which already made it so different from the slow builds Chris and Nick did for theirs.

"Okay."

Video-Matt’s voice crackled through the speakers, low and kind of nervous. On screen, the camera shook slightly as he clicked on it and flipped the screen to face him. He waved awkwardly with his free hand, his expression caught between a smile and full-on panic.

"Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

A wave of laughter rippled across the theater at how awkwardly he opened the video.

On stage, Chris squinted at the screen, tilting his head.

"Wait, where even is he?"

Matt hadn’t said it, but the massive, gleaming Tiffany & Co. logo was reflected behind him in the video - polished silver letters on a blue-tinted wall.

The moment the logo came into focus, Nick let out a confused noise beside Chris, practically leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Is that-"

"Bro, is he in Tiffany’s?" Chris finished, brows furrowed.

Even Y/N blinked in quiet surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she watched Matt on the screen set the camera down on a sleek little table inside the boutique. She’d never seen him even mention Tiffany jewelry. Vivienne Westwood was his thing, silver chains, edgy rings.

But she still smiled wide because he looked nervous as hell.

Matt, onscreen, muttered something about having emailed the brand beforehand to ask for permission to film, even flashing a crumpled printout of the email at the camera.

"I even brought it printed." He chuckled under his breath, clearly trying not to combust from stress as he fixed the frame.

Back on stage, Chris snorted.

"Why does he look like he’s about to commit a crime?"

Nick leaned toward the mic.

"Your surprise is that you stole some expensive jewelry, Matt?"

The crowd laughed again, some people clapping, some just wheezing into their hands.

Y/N was frowning now, eyes glued to the screen. Matt hadn’t looked that nervous since- well, since he asked her to move in with him from Boston to LA years ago.

On screen, Matt sat down at the table, his fingers tapping a beat on the edge like he couldn’t stop moving.

Moments later, a woman walked into frame - sleek black outfit, small Tiffany-blue name tag pinned to her chest.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She asked with a kind smile.

Matt stood up too fast and then kind of froze mid-stand like he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. He hovered awkwardly for a moment before sitting back down with a stiff, nervous nod.

Y/N laughed quietly, leaning forward in her seat.

"Oh, baby..." She mumbled, her heart just full.

"I’m Elena." The woman said, settling into the chair across from him. "Thanks for coming in today. I’ve been informed of your plans."

On the couch, Nick let out a quiet, "What plans?"

Chris nudged him but was just as confused.

"That’s great! Thank you." Matt said in the video, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Elena smiled, clearly used to this kind of energy.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The theater went silent.

Chris blinked.

Nick sat all the way back into the couch like the air had been punched out of him.

The crowd gasped.

And Y/N... Y/N froze entirely.

Her jaw went slack. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, twitched.

Did she hear that right?

Chris was the first to react.

"Wait- WHAT?" He half-shouted into his mic.

Nick was still staring at the screen, eyebrows drawn so hard together that they were practically touching.

"She just said- she said engagement- he- what?"

The audience exploded in a mix of laughter, shocked screams, and collective gasping.

Y/N covered her mouth, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding in her chest so loud it drowned everything else out.

She didn’t blink.

She didn’t breathe.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the boy on the screen, the boy she’d loved quietly, gently, patiently, for what felt like forever, who was sitting inside Tiffany & Co., looking like he was going to throw up from nerves, and apparently about to buy a ring.

For her.

Matt had been planning this.

He had planned this entire thing.

"Oh my god." She whispered behind her hand, her voice shaking with shock and joy and every emotion crashing together in her chest.

Chris turned slowly to look at her from the stage, his mouth slightly open like he was seeing the twist in a movie.

"You knew about this?" He asked, pointing to the screen.

Y/N shook her head so fast it almost made her dizzy.

"How could I know this, Chris?!" She squeaked, the words barely coming out.

Nick blinked rapidly, rubbing his forehead.

"Chris, a wedding propose is supposed to be a secret to the one being proposed."

But Chris still hadn’t recovered.

"A ring, dude. Like... for real. We’re on stage, and he’s proposing?"

Y/N sat back slowly, staring up at the screen like it was made of stars. Her lips trembled, not from sadness or fear or anything close to hesitation, but just from the way her entire soul felt like it was floating.

This wasn’t just a surprise.

This was Matt.

Her Matt.

And somehow, he’d managed to turn an ordinary night into the most extraordinary moment of her life.

The video continued playing, but no one really moved.

The entire theater was still.

Hearts pounding.

Eyes wide.

Waiting for the big moment.

The last frame of the surprise video froze on the big screen, the tiny velvet box open in Matt’s hand, his voice low and trembling, whispering like a private secret.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

And then... nothing. The screen went black.

For a second - two, maybe three - the entire venue was suspended in absolute silence. No screams, no gasps, no whispers. Just air. Thick and vibrating with a kind of collective disbelief that made everything feel just a little unreal, like the world had glitched and was still buffering.

Then someone - probably a fan in the front row - gasped out loud.

And the silence cracked.

A mix of choked sobs, happy cries, shocked laughter, and chaotic squeals broke like a wave through the audience.

Mary Lou covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide and glossy. Mikayla had literal tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching the side of Nate's hoodie. Even the tour crew was caught off guard, one of the lighting guys had his jaw dropped like he was about to cry.

Nick blinked rapidly and turned toward Chris, totally stunned.

And then there was Y/N.

She was still seated, her mouth parted just slightly, her eyes wide and blinking slow, like she was trying to make sense of gravity again. Her entire body felt... floaty. Like she wasn’t quite in the room anymore. Like she was watching someone else live her life and was just now realizing that someone else was... her.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her hands felt cold and sweaty at the same time. She couldn’t move. She didn’t even breathe.

And then Matt stood up.

Still on stage, in front of the giant screen, with tears in his eyes and his heart practically written all over his face.

He looked at her.

Just her.

And the noise around them blurred into something distant and unimportant. He brought the mic up to his lips, eyes momentarily running from hers.

"Can- uh, can one of you help her up here?" He asked, nodding toward the security guard on the right side of the stage, voice trembling through the speakers.

The crowd seemed to become louder.

Screams. Cries. People clapping and jumping. Y/N could barely process the guard gently approaching her, a soft smile on his face, as he reached out a hand.

She blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

"Come on, sweetheart." Matt said into the mic, his voice cracking. His smile was soft and a little wobbly. "It’s okay."

That’s when her legs finally moved. Barely. But they moved.

The crowd cheered louder as she slowly stood up, holding her shaky hands to her chest, fingers scratching against the glitter of her shirt - the same one that Nick was using.

She followed the security guard to the edge of the stage, the warm lights making everything feel more surreal, more floaty. Like a fever dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

And then, she was there.

Up on stage.

Everything around her was blurry except for him.

Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt.

Standing there, eyes glassy, hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. He looked like he was holding back a loud cry.

"Come here, angel." He said again, softer this time. Just for her.

She walked toward him slowly. Feet barely touching the stage, everything trembling. The lights, the crowd, the sound, it all disappeared as she reached him and stopped a foot away.

His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. But when he looked at her, it was solid. Sure. Like there was nothing else he believed in more than her.

"Okay." Matt started, laughing nervously and brushing his fingers under his eye. "Uhm... wow. Okay. So... I had this whole thing in my head. Like, how I was gonna say it. But now I’m just... losing it."

She let out a teary laugh. So did the crowd.

Matt looked down for a second, then back up, voice steadier this time.

"I love you." He said first, like he had to just get that out before anything else. "I love you so much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath. Her hands came up to her mouth, eyes already overflowing.

"You’ve been with me through everything. Everything, Y/N. When I was nobody. When we were filming in our parents' kitchen and only getting a hundred views. When I had zero dollars to my name. When I moved to LA with my brothers and literally lived on hope. You were there."

He sniffled.

"You’ve always been there."

Her whole body was trembling now. She could barely stand straight.

Matt stepped a little closer, reaching out with one shaky hand to hold hers, gripping tight like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I’m not good with words. You know that." He said, voice wobbling but warm. "But you- you’re everything to me. You’re the reason I’m even here. Not just like, here here." He gestured around at the stage. "But like- here."

Her lips quivered as she sobbed softly, squeezing his hand.

"I wake up every day, and I can’t believe I get to love you. That you love me back. That I get to see you reading on the couch or ranting about your series or dancing while you brush your teeth. You’re the best part of my day, every day." Another laugh cracked in his throat, wet and breathless. "I brought your perfume with me to Vegas so my shirts smelled like you. That’s where I’m at. That’s how far gone I am."

Y/N let out a choked laugh through her tears, wiping at her eyes, her fingertips coming out black with mascara. Matt laughed too, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

And then he reached into the right pocket of his jacket.

The room seemed to still again.

He pulled out the small velvet box. Hands trembling.

She bit her lip. A hand flew to her chest.

And then Matt was getting down.

On one knee.

His knee hit the stage softly. He opened the box again, showing two beautiful rings sparkling under the lights, and tried to hold it up while still holding the mic. But his hands were too full.

Chris was already moving before Matt could even think of asking for help. He ran up to them, gently taking Matt’s mic right out of his hand, and held it up close to Matt’s mouth for him.

Matt looked up at his brother, breathless and laughing softly through the emotion.

"Thanks." He whispered, voice cracking.

Chris just smiled his widest smile, his eyes shining with tears, and nodded.

Matt turned back to Y/N, holding up the box in his shaking hands.

"Y/N." He said. "Please, allow me to spend the rest of my life by your side. Will you marry me?"

And it was like the world held its breath.

All she could do was nod at first, crying and covering her face. Then she laughed through her tears and choked out.

"Yes. Yes. Oh my god- yes!"

The crowd exploded. Screams. Cries. Phones held high. Some people literally jumped. Nick tackled Chris in a hug. Their mom sobbed against Jimmy.

Matt stood up and pulled her into his arms so fast the empty box slipped, and they both stumbled a bit, laughing and crying and shaking.

And when he kissed her, right there in front of everyone, it wasn’t polished or pretty. It was messy. And emotional. And real.

"I love you so much." He whispered in her ear.

And she whispered back.

"I can’t believe you’re mine."

They stood there for a long time, just holding each other.

Two people on a stage. In front of thousands.

"The 'getting down on one knee' thing was successfully approved, Matt." Nick's voice echoed around the room from the speakers before two more bodies collapsed around them, holding them close.

They were the only ones in the world.

© vanteguccir

[miniimight]

ur dad!sukuna has me on a chokehold and i don't even like that man

lol same, it really came outta nowhere. woke up one day and decided to make him a soft girl dad :(

loosely inspired by this

sukuna had never understood the need to celebrate holidays with family, much less getting together for no reason. and yet, here he was at your grandparents' house in the middle of the school year.

there were a bunch of kids, from toddlers like your daughter to the teenagers of family friends. sukuna made sure you handled all the pleasantries, save the occasional polite nod. he was convinced the only kid worth entertaining was his baby girl, who clung to him as she tried to adjust to the new environment.

she was quieter than usual, and he observed her as she pulled at her lip, turning her head into his neck when unknown relatives crowded you to congratulate you on your little family.

you and sukuna found a corner to hole up in, talking to each other while you sampled all the drinks and food at the party. soon, your daughter grew restless, wanting to go play with other kids.

sukuna watched her with deadly precision as she and the other kids brought out toy cars and dolls, driving them around on the city rug below their feet.

he had crossed his arms, only for you to wiggle your hand into the crease of his elbow seconds later. eyes still on his daughter, he leaned his head down a bit to show he was listening.

"i thought you'd enjoy the free drinks." you said.

he snorted. "i'd enjoy my bed right about now."

you swat his bicep with your free hand before hugging into his side. "at least baby's having fun."

he just hummed in response. "she's gonna want one of those stupid rugs."

you roll your eyes. "you know she'll forget about it by tomorrow morning."

his lips pulled up. she would. and he'd still get it for her.

soon, gifts for the kids were being exchanged. why? just for existing, apparently. you left sukuna's side to capture your daughter's reaction on camera.

your baby glanced at you as she was presented with the gift bag.

"go 'head, baby." you nod, and she ripped the tissue paper to shreds before reaching her whole arm into the bag. she pulled out a tiara, studded with gems and painted gold, along with a fluffy dress.

an immediate chorus of awwws echoed around the room as she held up her loot. she raised the tiara over her head, but didn't manage to get it to sit right.

"help." she chirped, waddling over and holding the tiara to you in her outstretched hand. "mama."

sukuna's heart squeezed at the sight, gaze following you as you retreated to the bathroom to help her change into her costume.

a few minutes later, you emerged, setting her next to your grandparents.

another wave of awws made sukuna's head lift from his phone. always watching, he noticed how his kid's wide eyes darted from unknown face to unfamiliar face. her chin tucked down, her chubby neck doubling up as her bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

he'd know that look from a mile away. he stood a little straighter, frowning.

at that point, your mommy senses tingled, pulling yourself from the conversation you were wrapped up in. "aw, honey, no..." you cooed, stooping to her level and trying to catch her eye.

she whined, pushing off the couch and shrinking under the crowd of people, wringing the hem of her dress as she walked through the crowd.

her eyes were scanning the room, looking up at every adult and getting closer to tears when she saw they weren't the one she was looking for.

eventually she broke into the kitchen area, locking eyes with her father and barreling towards him. sukuna crouched down, his arms spread to catch her.

as soon as she gripped him, he lifted off. "hey, kid. rough night, huh?"

she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her arms hugging the expanse of his shoulders. he nodded and rubbed her back. "me too."

she raised her head abruptly and touched her tiara. her eyes so serious, as if she'd base her own feelings about her new stuff on how much her father liked it.

"yes, i see it. very pretty." he placed her onto the kitchen counter, smoothing the crinkled mess of her dress. his tone could be perceived as dry or near-monotonous, but his intention was the complete opposite. "my, my, were you ever going to tell us we were living with a princess?"

a toothy grin spread on her face, and sukuna was blown away yet again by the way he was able to make someone so genuinely happy.

"look." she started twirling around.

sukuna shook his head with a low chuckle. her spin was anything but graceful. he applauded her showcase, his back shielding them both from the noise surrounding them. a little bubble just for them <3

your hand rested on his back, signaling your approach. sukuna lifted his arm, resting it on your waist when you stood at his side.

you frowned as you studied your little girl. "you feeling okay, baby?"

she poked her tongue out.

"i'll take that as a yes." you kissed her cheek. "wanna get outta here?" you ask your husband.

"fuck yes." he grumbled, immediately slinging the baby bag over his shoulder and grabbing your daughter. you three were out the door in the next minute.

your toddler started screaming at the burger king y'all were passing on the way home. you gave sukuna a look, silently warning him not to do anything illegal in order to appease her request. as usual, he soothed you with a squeeze of the hand, pulling a jerky, very illegal u-turn across oncoming traffic into the burger king lot.

you sighed, your daughter giggling happily as the car came to a stop.

after you got your food, she placed the crown she got on her father's head. "princess." she said.

"oh?" you side glanced your husband, his glare unsuccessful in deterring you from snickering. you encourage your daughter, "yes, baby, isn't he the prettiest?"

"no." she looked at her father in disgust. "me."

"oh, my apologies. you are so right."

sukuna scoffed. "where'd you think you got your looks from, silly girl?" he crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth. he made no move to take off the cardboard crown, though.

you gave him a look. "i helped too??"

he grinned deviously and pulled you into his side, squeezing your hips. "don't kid yourself, doll. you didn't even try."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[1d1195]

Most I

Read Most here | ~3.9k words

From me: I've been watching sad Instagram reels to feel something so I wanted to just write those feelings out.

Warnings: angsty af. Like you're gonna be sad in this part. It's only some fluff and a lot of love, but it's a lot of angst. Just like an absolute ton of it. Also you're supposed to envision Harry as a firefighter so you have to deal with that at the same time.

Summary: She was his soulmate when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life–the one she planned to write about. But was soulmates going to be enough?

“Hi baby,” her giggle was infectious. The kind of laugh that sounded like music and felt like sunshine. He didn’t even need to see her to know there was a smile on her face. The very same smile that had been his favorite one to see since they were young. Only recently did it turn into the one that he loved so much. Well, at least he could admit how much he loved it openly. It made his own smile appear; just knowing when he turned around, he was going to see those pretty lips, her straight teeth (although when he envisioned it, he still remembered it before she had braces; teeth just slightly crooked at the cutest angle—but he would never tell her that). The word baby was for him. She was in his heart. So completely, so wholly. He loved the way the word baby sounded in her voice. How it left her smiling lips. He had dreamed about it for ages. Since he was old enough to name that she really was his crush.

But in the end, he didn’t even have to tell her he liked the name baby. It was just the one she chose.

Like she knew that’s what he wanted.

“Hey kitten,” he chuckled, smiling over his shoulder as she approached. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She nuzzled her face against his back. His shirt smelled so intoxicatingly good—like him. He was warm, perfect. He continued his conversation with Niall. Resting his hand on top of hers, settled on the front of his stomach, right above his belt. She stayed glued to him. Niall hardly paid any attention to her. Not in a mean way, of course; no, she was simply there because she was supposed to be. She was a permanent fixture—no, an extension of Harry’s body. When she wasn’t around, it was the first thing anyone asked. Where was she? Was she okay? She liked to be thought of as a package deal. Even her mom, for all her faults, always wondered where Harry was when he wasn’t there. It was like he was the oxygen in the air and when he wasn’t around it was hard for her to breathe.

She loved Harry. She was so in love with him, she thought you could take a sample of her blood and find love for him in the cells at a molecular level. Loved him beyond description. She didn’t think it was possible to love someone that much until she did. It was the stuff of dreams and romance novels. Every time he looked at her, she was overcome with the feeling like he never wanted to stop looking at her.

Harry truly was in love with her. Astronomically in love with her. He thought he would need to create a new unit of measurement just to explain how vast and deeply he loved her. But there wasn’t any justice for it. He simply loved her. Like his life depended on it. He loved her more than he could describe. More than anyone could ever really witness.

He encouraged all her dreams and ambitions throughout the years. When she wanted to be an astronaut he stayed up until three in the morning researching workout routines for them to practice in his backyard so he could help train her for a life on the space station. The week she wanted to be a baker was spent experimenting with flour and sugar. Failing miserably when they set the smoke alarm off so many times that his mum insisted that they take a break.

But it was her writing that he encouraged more than anything else.

He didn’t care what she chose to write. He read it all. Essays, articles, love stories, a grocery list turned into poetry when it came from her pen. He bought her notebooks upon notebooks for birthdays and Christmases. When she was feeling upset, he never brought her flowers; a new pen and notebook, that was all she needed.

People who didn’t know them well, said they were crazy. Falling in love at a young age like that. It wasn’t a good idea. Harry was going to leave for college a year before her and it seemed doomed before it started. But to her it didn’t matter. Because each of those notebooks that Harry never opened without her permission, never strayed from the page she let him read, all were inscribed on the inside front cover with a heart she had drawn and written their two names inside. Like she was going to write their very future into existence.

Yes, Harry loved her, but it was more than that. There wasn’t anyone sweeter. No one was prettier—inside or out. Her kindness was so touching he couldn’t believe someone like her was in love with him some days. It seemed unfair. If there was a perfect person, it was Harry. She was sure.

Harry didn’t believe in soulmates. But whatever she was and how she fit into his life, he was certain it was as close to a soulmate as he would ever get.

So finally, when Harry was finally exhausted from waiting, the day before his last year of school started—before he would be going off and applying to universities, he needed her to know. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” He asked, point-blank.

She smiled.

That gorgeous, perfect smile that melted him right to his core.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she opened one of the notebooks that were stacked beside her bed, all the ones from over the years that she had hidden exactly what she wanted on the inside front cover. “I know.”

Harry saw the hearts, their names.

She was his soulmate. Whether he liked it or not.

So, when they held hands in the school hallways, went to astronomy class together, and sat so close to one another at lunch and in study hall, no one really paid any mind to them. It seemed like most everyone already thought they were a couple, so their adorableness didn’t change how anyone perceived one another. No one noticed how in love Harry was with her because it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

No one cared that she loved Harry with every piece of her heart. Every part of her mind and soul because it seemed like she always had.

Well. 

Almost everyone.

*

Their love wasn’t without fault. Harry worried about the future, if she would grow tired of him because he wanted nothing more than to live in this town of theirs, the place where he met the love of his life and take care of it in thanks for bringing her to him.

“I can write from anywhere, Harry,” she reminded him. “Actually, I would go nowhere to be with you,” she smiled. It was corny. A poem she would probably jot down later before she fell asleep.

“Y’would go nowhere,” he repeated. That dimpled smile of his made her heartbeat twice as fast. His hands slid around her waist. It nearly made her shiver even though it wasn’t the first time he touched her, and it wouldn’t be the last.

She nodded; her hands linked behind his neck. His forehead pressed to hers and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. His mouth felt like a magnet, and he was going to draw her in whether she wanted to be drawn in or not (but she did—oh, did she want). “Nowhere with you seems like heaven.”

“When y’write your first poetry book, are y’gonna dedicate it to me?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Yeah? Y’really gonna dedicate it t’nobody?”

“You’re not a nobody,” she rolled her eyes.

“M’not going anywhere. M’jus’ a nobody from nowhere.”

“Harry,” she giggled. “You’re not a nobody... this isn’t nowhere. You’re... everywhere. And you’ll always be my somebody,” she promised. 

Her lips were touching his. Not quite kissing, but as she nodded, they brushed in a half-kiss that she didn’t have enough words to adequately describe the feeling and how it would put any full kiss written by any other author to shame. “Think I want t’have your body all t’myself,” he pulled her closer, somehow. His body was so warm and when he smiled, his mouth curved upwards made her lips follow his. She couldn’t take it a moment longer. She sank into the kiss, feeling like the oxygen was almost too pure for her. Leaving her breathless but wanting more of it all the same.

He was her first kiss, her first poem, her first love, and her first everything. There wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been touched by him. So really, the poems, the stories, the writing came naturally. Harry was her muse. There was nothing else to do but write.

*

But her own insecurities in her writing abilities and her appearance made her nervous that she would hold Harry back. 

Harry wanted to be a firefighter for their sweet little town; and she wasn’t oblivious, he had the body for it. She joked with him that he was going to sell thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars when the time came. “Are y’going t’be the one buying thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars?” He chuckled.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. He kissed every inch of her face until she giggled more and more.

“Kitten?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“M’gonna buy thousands of dollars’ worth of y’books.”

“With my calendar money?”

He tickled her until she squealed.

Harry was beautiful. More beautiful than she felt on most days, and it pained her sometimes to look in the mirror. But it always seemed like Harry knew when those days hit her hardest. “Do y’know you are the most beautiful person I know?” He whispered to her, as if it were a secret. But he would have shouted it from the rooftops. He showed all their friends the pictures he had taken of her and put them in their group chat and reminded them to tell her how pretty she looked. It made her giggle and shy from the attention. He would brush his fingers along her cheek, “So, so pretty,” he reminded her. “Should be illegal t’look at you for this long. Hogging all your beauty t’myself.”

But they always reassured one another that this was it. She was his soulmate—even when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life—the one she planned to write about until she couldn’t physically write anymore.

It helped that people like Eleanor, Louis, Niall, Sarah, and Mitch, all assured her too that no one loved anyone as much as Harry loved her. Everyone loved them together. It wasn’t close to the amount they loved each other, but it was a good amount—one that suggested everyone knew they were meant for each other.

Almost everyone.

*

Lauren was the same year as she was. She was popular, smart, insanely beautiful. In another dimension, she was sure Harry was meant to be with Lauren. But they were a good pair. Lauren was kind and almost always worked with her on school projects. Arguably one of her closest friends outside her main group of friends she shared with Harry.

When they were out and about, Harry watched out for the girls in the group nearly as much as he watched out for the girl that made his heart stutter. He kept spare hair ties around his wrist for when drinking at parties got to be too much and he worried their hair would fall into the toilet. “Harry, can you come get Lo and I?” She asked once Harry picked up at the other end. It was Harry’s least favorite kind of call. The kind he knew Lauren had dragged her to a party that was too much. It made his heartbeat faster, worried beyond belief until he saw that sweet smile holding her friend’s hair back as she threw up in the bushes. “Can you help me get her into bed?” Of course he would. He would do anything she asked.

Harry noticed the way Lauren’s grip tightened around his neck as he held her and carefully placed her into bed. Out of the kindness of his heart, he ignored it. For Lauren’s sake, for his sake, and of course the sake of the pretty girl whose concern for her friend grew as she gathered items needed to cure a hangover. 

*

Lauren was in love with Harry. Had been for years. But it couldn’t even come close to her and her love for Harry. Not in any way, shape, or form. Lauren adored her friend, because how could she not? She was too sweet for words. But there was a part of her, a gnawing, growing part of her that wanted her friend out of the picture. She told herself all she needed was a chance, but it didn’t seem doable. They were inseparable. There was no way she could tear them apart. It was impossible.

Or was it?

*

“Harry?” Lauren asked. She was smiling at her phone again. The way she always did when Harry texted her. During the week, it was a little hard to see one another—even though Harry was commuting to the local university just a half hour drive away and they were still in town. So, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays were meant for dates and kisses and being so obsessed with one another, it would probably make anyone want to throw up.

Especially if they were jealous.

“Yeah, he’s out early. Wanted to know if we needed anything for our study session.”

Lauren felt a crack in her plan. They were really too sweet. Both of them.

“Do you ever… worry about Harry?” Lauren asked. 

She frowned. “Yeah, like every day.”

“No,” Lauren felt a stab of hatred for herself as she pressed. Of course, her friend would say something sickeningly kind like that. Of course, she worried about Harry. “No like… him at university.”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently. The innocence in her voice was sincere. Genuinely asking her friend what she meant. Worry coated her face. Was there something she missed? Should she have been worrying about Harry more?

“Uh… just… forget it,” Lauren shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

That was going to be the end of it. If it was, maybe Harry would have fared better. Maybe it wouldn’t have led to this horrible moment. Left wondering and aching and wishing.

But she was nothing if not the best and most fantastic friend of all.

“Lo, are you sure? You seem… nervous.”

So, she continued. Planted the tiny seed of doubt. “It’s just… Harry’s been with you his whole life and he’s made it well known he won’t be leaving. So, do you ever feel like you should… let him be free to experience more? I don’t know… I just… I think I would worry if it were me.”

That was all it took.

The self-doubt was so easy. It made so much sense coming from her mouth. Harry did deserve more. She thought that on a regular normal day.

Staying close to home wasn’t going to make Harry’s life any richer. He wasn’t staying in a dorm. He wasn’t going to be studying abroad or anything like that. A degree in psychology to help as much as he humanly could. Training to be a firefighter the moment he finished his degree. He would love his life and living here. 

But what if he deserved more?

*

Harry’s house was like her second home. She rarely knocked—only if she was unsure if anyone was home. If the car was in the driveway, she made her way in.

Except today. Because today, Anne’s porch didn’t feel like home. The steps that made her trip and fall on Halloween when Harry tended to her like he planned on being a doctor. It solidified   the picture that he would be a fireman, an amazing one at that. But he would have been great at anything he set his mind to. The flower garden where she and Harry found a bird’s nest after a bad storm. The study sessions and poems that she scribbled on the porch where Anne would bring them lemonade and cookies.

It was one of her favorite places on earth.

But it wasn’t today.

She knocked.

Harry pulled the door out of the way. “Hey baby,” he pecked her cheek, oblivious to everything she felt and how she sounded. He was in his own happy world. Nothing was wrong. He wasn’t told that she was less when Harry needed more. He didn’t notice she knocked. That she hadn’t toed over the threshold. “How was school and work? Are y’tired?”

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I was thinking we could order in and watch a movie.”

It’s not fair.

“Harry,” she repeated.

“I think pizza—oh we had pizza two days ago. Maybe Chinese?”

It’s. Not. Fair.

“Harry.”

Finally, he noticed she hadn’t moved much beyond the doorway while he was rushing about. He turned to her finally. Noting her crestfallen face, the way her eyes were bloodshot, and she refused to look him in the eye.

“Hey, kitten,” he frowned and moved toward her. “S’matter, love?” He asked. “Did y’have a bad day? See a sad video?”

It pained her to no end that he knew her so well that a sad video could have been the culprit for her sadness on a normal day. But this wasn’t a normal day. This was the day she was going to break her own heart.

“I uh…” she swiped at her eye.

“Kitten, baby,” he cooed and reached for her arm gently, but she pulled away. “Hey, what—”

“I think I’m gonna…” her throat hurt. Like the words were burning her esophagus like they weren’t supposed to come out. “I want to go away,” she whispered. That was at least in part true. She did want to go away. Far, far away so she wouldn’t feel the hurt like she was in that moment. “For school.”

There was a pang of frustration that went through him. Not because he was mad at her. No, he was going to miss her, that was it. But her success, her happiness, all of it was more important than a few hundred miles. Or even thousands. Harry sighed, wiped a hand over his face, and nodded. It would be hard. Long distance would be really hard. “Alright, yeah. Course, baby. Whatever’s best for y’education.”

She shook her head trying to talk herself out of saying it. Or maybe into saying it. It seemed so wrong. So awful. It wasn’t worth it. All this hurt. She hadn’t even started really. She could stop right then. But she looked at him. Looked at his kind, worried face. The way he looked at her when she had a stomachache or a headache. When she smacked her head on the corner of a table she was cleaning under or when she fell off her bike when she was young. “It’s… it’s really far away, Harry,” she reminded him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say it. Wouldn’t have to do the hard part. He would just know, he would agree.

“Yeah… yeah, it is. But s’okay,” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Just a minor hiccup. “I’ll come t’you every weekend. And there will be holidays. M’sure your mum will want y’home and—”

His poor heart. He’s got no idea I’m about to ruin everything.

“Harry,” she swallowed. “It’s… it’s too far,” it wasn’t even a whisper.

Harry frowning was her least favorite thing. It made it all so much harder. “Too far for what, kitten?” He asked almost rhetorically.

Her inhale of breath was shaky. Like it was hurting her to breathe. Everything hurt. Every inch of her body. Like she had been hit by a car or had fallen from a tree. It wasn’t fair. Harry was oxygen. He always had been for as long as she had known him. Now it was hurting her to be in the same room as him. “For us,” she croaked.

It felt like the whole world had shifted. Flipped on its axis. He remembered hearing about it in their astronomy class. She was sitting right beside him. He wanted to ask her if she remembered because it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to happen gradually, in hundreds of thousands of years. No one was supposed to notice. But Harry did. He noticed immediately.

He scoffed and looked at her like she was insane. Like it was a mean joke. She wasn’t mean so where had this come from? The tears were a nice touch. Realistic even. It felt terrible to look at her in such a way, but surely it was only the natural reaction when someone he loved just caused the magnetic field to flip the entire globe. “Baby, what are y’saying?” He asked. It didn’t really make sense and so his only option was to question her. She covered her mouth releasing a sob that he hadn’t ever heard come from her mouth. Not when her childhood dog died. Not when her mom got in a scary car accident and started losing her mind just enough to make her anxious and worried. Not when she got a terrible grade on her math test or hurt her ankle in soccer. There wasn’t a moment he could compare it to. There was no grief she had ever felt that elicited such a sound. Harry reached for her again, instinctively, his hand touching her upper arm. She flinched. Like it stung.

Like it hurt.

In hindsight, it was the last time he touched her, and she flinched away.

“Baby,” his throat felt tight. Nothing in his brain was connecting—the pattern wasn’t something he had encountered before. She didn’t flinch at his touch. The words didn’t make sense. Not from her mouth. What did any of that mean? “Kitten…”

“I’m sorry Harry. It’s too much. We’re too young and…” she took a heaving breath. One that shook her whole body. The only thing Harry could think about was holding her. It didn’t matter that his heart was splintering into pieces. She was in pain, and he wanted to cure it and he wanted to hold her to do it. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry,” she left the doorway without another word. Not a single touch, nor kiss. When was the last time he kissed her? Oh, he was so lucky his class finished early, and it was the night before. A goodnight kiss when everything was happy and wonderful. He had an early day. So, he told her he loved her and went to bed. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Like the world had tipped and opened a blackhole to this terrible dimension.

“Harry?” Anne asked, coming from the kitchen. He was staring at the door. Where the love of his life had previously stood. Harry was only 19, but he was never surer of how she fit in his life. “Are you alright?”

“No, not at all,” he croaked, and the tears flooded his vision and down his face. There was nothing else to be said.

--

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hey, could I request a fic for ena dream bbq? Ena x reader who's a slightly funky version of a mars rover.

They look like the spirit/opportunity rovers for the most part, with the whole robot head and solar panel wing thing going on. But, their wheels are floating just a little off the ends of their leg thingies, and they can separate into individual pieces making up hands/feet, and their body and legs are a bit more articulated, so the reader can stand up in a more humanoid shape if they so choose.

And on their head, they have a small screen near their cameras, which they use to show emotion using emoticons, because it's a low resolution screen that pretty much only displays a few characters of text. So they just kinda go :] <:D >:/ :P BJ X0 ;3 ':2 c: D8 ',:) :7 (individually not all at once) when they are talking to people. Sometimes they display a word or a few symbols instead tho, like "there's a 37 percent chance of that happening" and their screen says 37%, or they go ??? When confused or something.

They usually stay in regular rover form while traveling, driving on their wheels, and go humanoid when they need to carry something, talk to people, or generally are in a situation where hands are useful. They do have one arm that isn't one of their wheels, but it has somewhat delicate scientific equipment in it, so they don't use it as much for everyday stuff. They also turn off their screen when they aren't actively trying to convey emotions, so usually only when alone or around people they know well and trust.

theyre working together with ena, and on the side just casually taking soil samples and pictures of interesting things. Write whatever you feel like, one shot, hc, anything, whatever you feel inspired to write. Preferably platonic, but if you wanna write a romance I won't stop you. (If you wanna add any other characters like coral glasses or Kane or something that could also be fun, even someone from the series like classic ena or shepherd, but that makes things more complicated so you very much don't have to)

Have a nice day! :D

(sorry this ask is so long and probably goes into unnecessary detail, im a rambler and decided to give a whole character description for some reason ':∆. You don't need to write this if you don't wanna)

This is a cool concept! I don't mind the extra details! Hope hcs are alright

..........

While you don't recall when or where you were built, you do know your purpose: take pictures of intriguing subjects, steal soil and rock samples, etc. etc. Everything you've once done in space, you do here on this world.

But it felt less like a job and more like a hobby. Something that stimulated your circuitry and allowed you to experience "joy" (which you once thought was strictly reserved for living organisms) in everything you found.

Your creators have long since forgotten you...or maybe they all died and didn't think you'd outlive them. You had no orders to follow. No signals to relay. No real mission to accomplish.

So you took it upon yourself to join Ena and Froggy's group, wanting to have some sort of directive, even if it meant helping them accomplish whatever business called for them to do.

Some days, you'd be in the Hub, assisting Coral Glasses with her work regarding the Horse Door, faxing her blood samples and other interesting specimen you've picked up, or she might print a picture of something bizarre she found and ask for your input.

You weren't programmed with a voice (which she doesn't mind since she's not a fan of social interactions and lengthy chats). Instead, you communicate through a screen next to your cameras, which display a variety of emoticons, emojis, and symbols. It's not the greatest resolution, but it gets your point across.

Some icons are indicative of approval, some of disdain, and others...would be confusing for the average person to understand.

For Froggy? He tends to mistranslate what you're trying to say and has the nerve to ask why you made a >:( face.

For Kane? He gets it half the time.....but he's more worried about getting his coins stuck in your wheels again.

For Ena? It's no problem. She knows exactly what you mean every time, acting like she's been there since your construction, while also respecting your autonomy.

When your new and current directive became "eliminate the smoke", you thought the tasks leading to its completion would be simple.

But with Ena, it turns out to be anything but that.

In the Lonely Door, you noticed that the Uncanny Streets had a dry deserted terrain. You had a phobia of dust storms and your wheels getting stuck in sand traps, but thankfully the conditions here don't permit such occurrences. And your solar panels are always keeping your batteries charged, as it never gets dark, either--so in short, travelling around would be the least of your concerns.

While your screen initially displays nothing as you scan the environment, Ena somehow knows what you're thinking and pats the top of your head.

"This will be a great opportunity to gather vital intel and ask invasive questions!" Salesperson grins. "I can smell the opportunities from up here, my friend. Don't you?"

":U....<:)"

"That's the spirit! I couldn't have said it better myself! I vow to get to the bottom of this mysterious Gen--bAthR00M."

"🚽?"

"Ew! I didn't need to see THAT!!!" Meanie pretends to retch. "Go take 300 pictures of that cloud for me, you hunk of metal!!"

Funny enough, you don't take her demands as an insult. Your storage is like a bottomless pit, so you could hypothetically take 300 pics of one singular cloud if its shape and placement in the sky intrigued you enough.

But you'd rather stick with her and assist her with the different jobs she's been given.

You can shift between your primary vehicle mode and your more humanoid one for easy interactions with folks--although you being taller than Ena in that latter form leads to Meanie pouting and grumbling under her breath when she thinks you can't see her.

Too bad for her, as your camera/eyes can see 360.

While she talks to people (which is really them messing with her and claiming to be the boss, insulting her species, and eventually giving her something to do), you're just taking pictures of things like the giant melded into the building, the black tree without leaves that's wandering about the outskirts, or the alienlike Wanderers in the sky.

Rescuing Shoryo's pets/babies is easy, as you're able to maneuver around tight spaces and let them rest on your platform, driving them back to the horselike entity.

He felt flattered that you "delivered them to [him] on a silver platter"...which left you wondering if he intended to eat them.

Before you can question it, there's an explosion and you see Ena and the Shaman outside of the now-destroyed Seal House.

After she's given the humanboard, you discover fertile soil deposits around the streets, learning that the head can grow into a full body and help her reach higher places.

The ribcages buried within the dirt intrigued you, but oddly enough...she didn't want you to take any bone samples.

All you wanted to do was perform a light brush, a gentle abrasion on the surface. Just enough to get a microscopic calcium extract so you could determine how old it is.

You had no idea what overcame Ena when her clawed hand latches onto your delicate arm unexpectedly, threatening to damage your analyzers, drills bits, and other scientific equipment embedded into it.

It sets off internal alarms, red lights flashing across your vision, but you silence those in favor of staring at her. "🦴❌?"

"I just....don't want you to do that. It might hurt him.." Meanie's voice drops into a low whisper, something extremely uncharacteristic of her, as her mitten hand trembles and cradles the humanboard closer to her chest. Like some maternal instinct had overtaken her. "Please.."

Your screen goes dark, but you comply and leave the soil alone.

Perhaps not everything needs exploration.

[empressdede]

Never Ending - 2

This was originally supposed to be a two shot, but then I kept writing so…😭 maybe a four part mini series 🤣🫶🏾

Previous Next

Ciera was halfway through taking her notes in Chemistry when the words group project came out of Mr. Langston’s mouth. She didn’t flinch, didn’t groan like the rest of the class. She simply clicked her pen, already bracing for whatever random partner fate would assign her.

She wasn’t prepared for him.

“Jonathan Fatu and Ciera Monroe,” Mr. Langston read off.

Her head snapped up.

Jon looked back over his shoulder at her, eyes narrowing like he was trying not to grin. “Hey, partner.”

Ciera blinked slowly. “I’m switching seats.”

“Nope,” Mr. Langston said without looking up. “No trades. Sit next to your partner, Fatu.”

Jon slung his backpack over one shoulder and strolled over like he owned the world. His hair had gotten longer since middle school, always tied back in a loose bun, and he wore that same cocky smirk like it was stitched into his DNA.

He flopped down beside her. “Miss me?”

“Like I miss extra homework.”

He chuckled. “Still quick with the comebacks.”

Ciera angled her body away just slightly. “Still allergic to taking anything seriously?”

“Only things that don’t involve you.”

She shot him a look. “Do you even know what the project is?”

“Something about acids and bases,” he said, waving vaguely toward the board. “I figured you’d do the smart stuff and I’d carry the supplies.”

“That’s not how this is gonna work.”

He leaned closer, voice dipping into that teasing tone that always made her ears heat. “You sure? ’Cause I remember you used to love bossing me around.”

Ciera stiffened.

It had been almost two years since they’d really talked. Since that slow dance in eighth grade, interrupted too soon. Since Sadé pulled her away, and Jon just grinned like he didn’t care. And then high school happened. Jon joined the football team, got louder, funnier, became everybody’s favorite. Ciera drifted into AP classes, study groups, a quiet lane of her own making.

They’d passed each other in halls—shared a few classes. The teasing never stopped. But the closeness? That had faded.

Until now.

“You gonna write anything down?” she asked, opening her notebook.

He pulled out a pencil from behind his ear. “Depends. You gonna yell at me if I mess it up?”

“Depends. You planning to try?”

He grinned. “There she is.”

They started working—sort of. Ciera outlined the hypothesis, while Jon fiddled with the pH strips like they were toy swords.

“Jon,” she warned, “you’re gonna contaminate the samples.”

“Relax, Doc Monroe. I know what I’m doing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since always. I just let you think you were the brains.”

She smirked. “You let me?”

“Mmhmm.”

She shook her head and focused on the worksheet. For a moment, the silence settled—but not comfortably. Not yet.

Then Jon said, casually, “Remember that science fair in sixth grade?”

Ciera blinked. “The one where you tried to make a volcano and it exploded on the principal?”

He laughed, head thrown back. “Hey, I maintain that was a successful reaction.”

“You nearly blinded Ms. Carter.”

“She shouldn’t have been that close.”

“You put vinegar in the wrong chamber.”

“You still remember all that?” he asked, tone softer.

Ciera looked at him. “I remember a lot of things.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Yeah… me too.”

The words lingered, heavier than she expected.

She cleared her throat, going back to the paper. “So we need three acids and three bases to test with litmus. You wanna grab the materials?”

“You asking me to do actual work?”

“I’m asking you to do your share.”

Jon stood, mock saluting. “Yes, ma’am.”

As he walked away, Ciera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He hadn’t changed much—not really. Still charming, still annoying. Still able to make her smile when she didn’t want to.

He returned with the samples, sliding back into his seat like he hadn’t just made her heart beat too fast.

“All right, scientist,” he said. “Let’s make some color magic.”

Ciera dipped the first strip. “You ever think about that dance?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Eighth grade. Middle school dance. You asked me to come.”

Jon leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “You came.”

“You asked.”

“Barely.”

“You asked,” she said again, watching his face carefully.

He grinned. “Okay, maybe I did. But you were the one staring at me the whole night.”

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You were about to kiss me.”

“You leaned in first!”

“I was being polite!”

“Oh my God, polite?” she laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Didn’t want to catch a slap if I misread.”

Ciera smiled despite herself. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jon sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Real talk… you think we would’ve worked?”

Ciera blinked. The question came out of nowhere. “Back then?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “We were kids.”

He shrugged. “Yeah… but we had something. Didn’t we?”

Her eyes searched his face. “Maybe. Maybe we still do.”

Jon leaned a little closer. “You saying you still like me, Monroe?”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks burned. “I’m saying… I remember what it felt like when we danced.”

His grin softened. “I remember too.”

They sat in the stillness of that moment, the rest of the classroom fading into background noise.

Then she spoke again, quieter this time. “What happened to us?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Life. You went one way. I went another.”

“You got popular.”

“You got serious.”

“We drifted,” she said.

“But we didn’t forget.”

Their eyes met again—this time, with something older and deeper between them.

Then, of course, Jon broke the tension.

“So you gonna admit you liked me first or what?”

Ciera scoffed. “Me? Please. You were obsessed with me in seventh grade.”

“Says the girl who used to write my name in her notebook.”

She gasped. “Lies!”

“I saw it. Big heart around it and everything.”

“Jon!”

He laughed, full and unbothered. “You really used to blush every time I sat near you.”

“And you used to throw spitballs at me in homeroom.”

“Because I liked you!”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, covering her face.

Jon reached out and gently tugged her hand away. “I still like you, you know.”

She froze.

He said it so easily, so confidently. No joke behind it. Just words, plain and simple.

“I don’t know if you still like me,” he added, “but if you do… I’d want to find out what that looks like. For real.”

Ciera stared at him, heart pounding.

This wasn’t middle school anymore. They weren’t dancing in a decorated gym with streamers and slow songs. They were older, messier, still figuring it out.

But maybe, just maybe, they still had that spark.

“You’re not just saying that because you don’t wanna fail Chemistry, right?” she teased, voice trembling slightly.

He laughed, shaking his head. “I mean… that’s a bonus.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed hers again.

“Wanna finish this project first,” she said, “before we plan our wedding?”

Jon grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

She didn’t answer—not directly. Just dipped the next strip in the solution and smiled when it turned a bright blue.

“Looks like a strong base,” she said.

Jon looked at her, amused. “Like your flirting game?”

“Like your chances if you keep running your mouth.”

He leaned back, satisfied. “God, I missed this.”

Ciera finally looked at him, soft and open. “Yeah. Me too.”

⸻⸻

The final bell echoed through the school like a sigh of relief.

Ciera was one of the few students who didn’t rush the hallways like a prison break. Instead, she moved with quiet precision, slipping down the corridor past the main exit, toward her locker. Her backpack was heavier than usual—Mr. Langston’s chemistry project meant hauling a textbook the size of a microwave, and there was no way she was lugging that home.

She rounded the corner and reached her locker, the metal cool beneath her fingertips. Twisting the combination, she popped it open and began sorting through her books.

A small part of her—okay, maybe a medium part—kept replaying the project period with Jon.

The way he looked at her. How his voice had gone soft when he said, “I still like you.”

She hadn’t expected that. Not from Jonathan Fatu—the boy who used to dunk paper balls in her hair and laugh when she got detention for talking back. The boy who danced with her in eighth grade and almost kissed her under the glow of cafeteria fairy lights.

Now here he was again. Same mischief in his eyes, but older. Bolder. And, apparently, still interested.

She shook her head. Don’t read into it. He’s always joking.

Just as she placed her Chemistry book on the top shelf, a voice slid into her ear like silk.

“So… did you miss me already?”

She flinched, spinning around. Jon leaned against the neighboring locker like a scene out of some teenage rom-com—arms folded, hair pulled back, grin in place.

“Do you practice being this annoying or does it just come naturally?” she asked, hand over her chest.

“I’ve been gifted since birth.”

Ciera rolled her eyes, stuffing a notebook into the locker. “What do you want, Jon?”

He raised his eyebrows, playful. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

“Because I have a life outside of entertaining you.”

“Ouch.” He clutched his heart. “That one actually hurt.”

She gave him a smirk and shut her locker. “Then I’m doing it right.”

But Jon didn’t flinch. Didn’t take the bait and leave like he usually did after a round of back-and-forth.

Instead, he stayed.

Leaned in just a bit.

“Actually,” he said, his voice a little quieter, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Ciera tilted her head. “Oh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was thinking about what I said earlier… maybe it’s time I finally take you out.”

She blinked.

“On a real date,” he added. “Like dinner or something. Not just projects and playful insults.”

For a second, she didn’t say anything. Her fingers curled around her bag strap, mind racing. Part of her had waited for this. The other part? Terrified to ruin the rhythm they had—this teasing, electric pull that always hovered between friendship and something more.

“Wow,” she said slowly. “You’re actually asking me out?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Ciera raised an eyebrow. “No jokes? No double-dare from your friends? You sure this isn’t some kind of bet?”

He chuckled. “You think I need a dare to ask you out?”

“Considering the last time you tried, we were thirteen and you ran off before Sadé could roast you—yes.”

Jon laughed, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m serious this time.”

Ciera leaned back against the row of lockers, arms crossing loosely. “That’s new.”

“I figured if I kept waiting, someone else might get to you first.”

“Now that’s more like you—territorial and late.”

“But honest,” he said, stepping closer.

She looked up at him, the teasing slowly slipping from her features, replaced with something gentler. “I’ll think about it.”

Jon blinked. “You’ll think about it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Monroe.”

“Good. Builds character.”

He exhaled, leaning in until they were barely a foot apart. “Okay, fine. I’ll make you a deal.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh God.”

“Relax,” he laughed. “Just this: I’ll call you tonight. You answer me then.”

Ciera tilted her head. “Call me?”

“You do still have a phone, right? Or did you evolve into one of those people who only communicates through passive-aggressive glances?”

“You’re one to talk,” she muttered.

“So is that a yes?” he asked, smiling. “You’ll pick up?”

She paused, lips tugging upward. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Depends on how annoying your voicemail is.”

He laughed again, louder this time. “So that’s a yes. You’ll answer.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, Fatu.”

Jon stood straighter, brushing imaginary dust off his hoodie. “Too late. I’ve already planned our wedding.”

Ciera rolled her eyes so hard it might’ve given her a headache. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway.”

She started to walk off, throwing over her shoulder, “I’ll deny it in court.”

He called after her, “I’ll have witnesses!”

And just like that, they slipped back into their rhythm. But underneath it—woven between every joke and jab—was something undeniable.

A pull.

She was halfway down the hall, smiling despite herself, when a familiar voice called out.

“Ciera!”

She turned to see Sadé jogging toward her, her braids bouncing as she waved. “Girl, wait up!”

Ciera slowed her pace as her best friend caught up, slightly out of breath.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Sadé said. “What took you so long?”

“Locker run,” Ciera replied. “Had to ditch Langston’s chemistry brick.”

Sadé wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. That man needs to stop assigning group projects like we don’t already have lives.”

Ciera smirked. “Mine got interesting.”

Sadé side-eyed her. “Why do you sound smug?”

“No reason.”

“Don’t lie to me, Monroe. Spill.”

Ciera glanced behind her—Jon was still by the lockers, pretending not to watch, but failing miserably.

Sadé followed her gaze, and her mouth dropped open.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“He finally asked?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And??”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

Sadé gasped, grabbing Ciera’s arm. “Girl, what?! You’ve had a thing for him since like—forever!”

“Yeah, well, forever is complicated.”

“Not if he’s asking you out.”

Ciera smiled, a little breathless herself. “He said he’s gonna call me tonight.”

Sadé squealed, practically vibrating. “You better answer that phone.”

“I might.”

“No. No ‘might.’ You will.”

Ciera laughed. “We’ll see.”

They walked side by side, Sadé still talking a mile a minute, but Ciera’s mind drifted again. Back to Jon’s voice, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the hallway. Like maybe—just maybe—this thing between them was real. Always had been.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight?

Tonight, she’d answer.

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the AC and the soft buzz of crickets outside the window.

Ciera stood in the middle of her room, arms folded, glaring at the phone on her nightstand like it had personally offended her.

It was 7:57 p.m.

Three minutes until the imaginary deadline she’d given Jonathan to call.

You don’t care, she told herself, marching over to her desk. She picked up her chemistry notebook, flipped to a random page, and tried to focus. Something about ions. Something about valence electrons. Something that wasn’t Jon’s voice in her head saying, I want to take you out.

She bit her lip and underlined the same sentence twice without realizing it.

At 8:01, her phone vibrated.

She jumped.

Unknown Number.

She stared at it for a half second too long.

“Girl, answer the damn phone,” she muttered, snatching it up.

“Hello?”

There was a pause—only a breath—before that familiar voice slipped through.

“Hey.”

Ciera swallowed, hoping her voice didn’t crack. “Hey.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why’d you hesitate?”

“I was busy.”

Jon laughed. “Doing what? Watching the phone from across the room?”

She could hear the grin in his voice, and somehow that made her entire chest flutter.

“Please. I forgot you were even supposed to call.”

“Oh, so now I’m forgettable?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“I imply a lot of things,” she replied coolly, walking to sit on the edge of her bed. “Doesn’t mean I mean them.”

Jon whistled low. “Damn. Still sharp, huh?”

“Did you call just to get roasted or was there a point?”

“Can’t I miss you a little first?”

Ciera’s heart thumped a little too hard.

She cleared her throat. “Miss me? You saw me like five hours ago.”

“Yeah, but that’s like thirty in Jonathan Fatu hours.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “You’re so corny.”

“And yet… here you are. Still on the line.”

“I was raised to be polite.”

“I’ll make a note. Politeness is the new flirting.”

Ciera smiled down at her lap. “Is that what this is? You flirting?”

Jon paused for just a second. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just what I’ve always done with you.”

Something in his voice shifted—less playful, more honest. Ciera’s teasing tone faded too.

“You always did have a way of getting on my nerves,” she murmured.

“And under your skin.”

She exhaled through her nose, the air in her room suddenly warmer. “Is this why you called?”

“No,” he said. “I called because I meant what I said earlier.”

Ciera lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “About wanting to take me out?”

“Yeah.”

She let the silence stretch for a beat. “Why now, Jon?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “I guess… I got tired of pretending I didn’t care. Like, we joke around, we talk trash, but you and I both know there’s always been more to it than that.”

Her chest tightened.

“Maybe,” she said softly. “But you never really said anything before.”

“I was stupid.”

“No argument here.”

He chuckled. “Fair. I just… you know how it was after middle school. I got caught up. Football, friends, all the attention. I didn’t know how to be real with someone back then.”

“And you think you do now?”

“I’m trying,” he said. “With you, I wanna try.”

Ciera’s throat felt a little tight. She sat up again, suddenly restless, the ceiling too heavy to stare at.

“I noticed you pulling away,” she admitted. “Like, the more popular you got, the less we talked. But I never said anything. I figured it was just… what happens.”

“Yeah,” Jon murmured. “I noticed it too. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”

“You could’ve started with a text.”

“Scary stuff,” he joked. “But you’re right. I should’ve.”

Ciera hugged one knee to her chest, the phone pressed close to her ear.

“I always wondered if I made that night up, you know?” she said quietly.

“What night?”

“The dance. Eighth grade.”

“Oh, I think about that night all the time.”

Her breath caught.

“You do?”

Jon’s voice dipped, softer now. “Of course. You were the only thing I could think about after. We almost kissed, remember?”

“I remember,” she whispered. “And then Sadé came outta nowhere.”

“I was this close,” he said with a smirk in his voice. “And she just—”

“Ruined everything.”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

Ciera bit her lip. “If she hadn’t interrupted, would you have actually done it?”

“Kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

There was no hesitation this time. “Absolutely.”

Her stomach flipped.

They were quiet for a few seconds, the weight of their unspoken history stretching out between them. Every memory—every laugh, tease, and almost-kiss—suddenly felt brand new.

“So,” Jon said eventually, his voice teasing again, “are you ready to stop pretending you don’t like me?”

Ciera groaned, burying her face in her pillow. “God, you’re annoying.”

“But cute.”

She muffled her laugh. “Debatable.”

“Please. You used to write my name in your notebook.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Sadé told me.”

“She’s dead to me.”

Jon’s laugh filled her ear again. “So… you gonna go out with me or not?”

Ciera exhaled, heart fluttering like a damn hummingbird. “You’re really not gonna drop this, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, debating. She’d spent years watching him from a distance, wondering if he still thought about her. And now, here he was, asking for her time—her attention—like he finally saw what they could’ve been all along.

“Alright,” she said at last. “One date.”

“One?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Can I pick you up Friday?”

She blinked. “You already had a day in mind?”

“Girl, I’ve had this planned since eighth grade.”

Ciera laughed, leaning back again, letting herself sink into the moment.

“Friday’s fine,” she said.

There was a pause on his end—like even he couldn’t believe she said yes.

“I’m holding you to that.”

“You better.”

They talked a while longer, about stupid things—teachers they couldn’t stand, Sadé’s loud laugh, how Joshua always tried to outshine him. But underneath every word was that same electricity, that same easy connection that never really left.

Eventually, her mom knocked and told her to get ready for bed. They said goodnight reluctantly.

“Sleep good,” he said.

“You too, Fatu.”

He hesitated before hanging up. “Hey, Ciera?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you picked up.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

And when she finally lay down to sleep, her phone still warm in her hand, she knew something had changed.

For real this time.

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[kimbapisnotsushi]

hey all, it's sou. a lot of you usually follow me for my haikyuu!! content since i started posting in 2021, and i really appreciate that! (especially since i shitpost about several other series, ha.) it's been great having you guys here, and i've felt so much support and love from so many of you. i love the space that i've cultivated for myself and the people who love my work, and it's one of the hobbies that's made me happiest over the past four years. but i know i haven't been keeping up with that part for the last year or so—and for good reason, as i'm sure many of you are aware.

i know a lot of us are doing what we can to help gaza, but sometimes donating, sharing, calling and emailing reps, and other actions don't feel like enough—especially when israel's just broken the ceasefire that had made so many hopeful it would end. it's absolutely devastating and i know it feels like there's very little we can do at this point. i'm not willing to give up just yet, though, so here's the deal:

Donation Rules ● Donate to any Palestinian's fundraiser directly or to any credible relief organization (<- some active ones provided, if you don't have ones you already have in mind) and DM me a screenshot of the receipt to request a fic! The donations are as follows: ● $5: Fic of 1500 words minimum ($.0033 per word) ● $10: Fic of 5000 words minimum ($.0020 per word) ● $15: Fic of 8000 words minimum ($.0019 per word) ● (I'm using USD because that's where I'm from—if you're willing from anywhere else in the world, then please partake! I know the exchange can be a bitch, so donating to organizations that your country has for the cause or ones that take all currencies in similar amounts work as well) ● If you only have the means to donate less than $5 or are only capable of reblogging fundraisers, info, educating yourself, emailing/calling, and other such actions to help, then you can still join! DM me the receipt screenshot (in the case of a donation) or send me a 🍉 to let me know that you're supporting in other ways (even reblogging this post counts!), and you can request a drabble or headcanons list of any sort!

Fic Request Rules ● List of series/fandoms I can write for is in the tags ● If you'd like a comprehensive list of things I've read/are reading, check here to see if they match anything you like! I'm also willing to write for anything on that list, i just figured a lot of them aren't series that people would read fics for ● Customizable means you can choose any prompt/au, ship (reader inserts as well), NSFW (only if you're 18+) or SFW, etc. within my comfort zone. I'll write for any and every character, no matter how small they are :) ● I'm NOT comfortable writing things like incest, underage sex scenes, inappropriate/illegal relationships between a character considered a minor and an adult, or excessive violence and gore. If you're ever unsure of what would cross my lines, we can absolutely talk about it!

I understand that I don't have much of a rep in other fandoms aside from Haikyuu!!, so here are some samples of WIPs on this doc. you can also look through my tag #sou writes stuff or my ao3 (of which please only pay attention to the most recent works, as that's how i write like the most right now)! If you like what you read, I'll write just like that for any request :)

PSA I am ONE SINGLE PERSON on top of all this. It may take a while, especially with the longer fics, but I do promise to get through every request I get. I'm aware I'm asking for a lot of trust and patience, and I appreciate all of it.

if you've read this through to the end, thank you, seriously. We're not alone in this. Let's aim for a better world.

[seoltzuki]

Delivery!

momo x fem reader

fluff

Weekly Momo deliveries and you just want a little sweet treat!

a/n: based from a true story (I didn’t kiss the delivery person though, but we are very good friends now) wait kiss? oops spoiler! also this used to be on my ao3

hbd momo ily!

Every Monday, you wait for the knock on your door, signaling the arrival of your weekly supply of fresh fruits and vegetables from the local farmers market. You’d heard about the service from Tzuyu, who swore by the convenience and quality.

Before your first delivery, you had already made a little request in the online order form: “send a sweet treat, surprise me.” It was a tiny change to break up your predictable and mundane schedule.

Just a little something new!

Your first meeting with Momo, the delivery person, was something. You opened the door, eyes still crusty from sleep, and there she was: rolled-up sleeves, a half-up hairdo, and cute glasses framing her face.

“Oh, hey! Didn’t expect—uh, someone like y-”

She flashed a smile that could rival the sun. “Hi! I’m Momo! Hope the surprise is a good one!” she said, raising the bag higher to your face, her muscles working and showing.

You caught a glimpse in the bag: a pack of gummies poking out the top. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much!”

Momo chuckled and shrugged. “Glad you like it! I’ll be sure to keep them coming. Have a nice day!”

With that, she left, but you couldn’t stop smiling. From that Monday on, your exchanges became something you looked forward to. Momo started adding a different treat each time, a little touch of sweet mixed into your groceries.

Mondays slowly turned into mini-breaks from life’s usual grind, and Momo would show up each week with her easygoing charm. You’d chat about the weather, exchange stories from your week, and laugh over the oddities that ended up in the produce bag. Once, Momo brought you an alien-looking fruit neither of you could identify, sparking a lively debate over how one might even begin to eat it.

One Monday, Momo didn’t show up. Instead, her replacement named Jihyo knocked on your door. And of course you asked,

“Momo doing okay?”

“She’s fine, just a bit under the weather,” Jihyo replied with a smile. “But she wanted to make sure I didn’t skip your sweet.” She handed over your bag, complete with a box of chocolates and a handwritten note: “Caught a cold. I’m fine—don’t worry. And here’s the weekly treat ;)”

In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just about the fruits and sweets anymore—it was more. The connection Momo had brought to each delivery, her attention, her care...

Her, her, her.

Each Monday after that was a little brighter. One week, Momo handed you a box of caramels, a playful gleam in her eye. “Going for extra sugar today. Hope you’re up for it.”

You giggled, “I trust your judgment. You're somehow always right.”

Momo grinned. “Hey, maybe I have a hidden talent for matching snacks to people’s moods. Or just giving the right treat to the prettiest person I know.”

Your small talk gradually gave way to deeper conversations. She’d share stories from the market—the quirky customers, the hectic mornings, the occasional disasters with fresh produce. You found yourself opening up too, laughing about the oddest things in your week, discussing favorite candies and ridiculous fruit facts.

One rainy Monday, she handed over the bag with a selection of comfort sweets: chocolates, marshmallows, the works. “Rainy days call for the good stuff,” she said simply, and you couldn’t help but feel seen.

Loved, maybe?

Another Monday, Momo told you about a local festival coming up. “They’ve got some amazing desserts there. Maybe you’d want to check it out?”

It sounded like a nice change of pace. So of course you agreed.

And of course you'd say yes to the cutest girl you've ever met.

When the day of the festival came, you ended up meeting Momo there, navigating the crowded stalls and sampling all the treats. At one point, she turned to you. “You know, it feels like I’ve known you forever, and it’s only been, what, a few months?”

You nodded. “Honestly, Mondays have started feeling like a whole separate world. All because of you Momo, thank you.” you whispered, linking your pinky with hers.

You didn't miss the way she blushed.

In the weeks that followed, you found yourself waiting eagerly for those Monday and the possibility of other shared moments beyond the doorstep. Then, one sunny Monday, Momo brought you a small potted plant.

“I thought your place could use a touch of green. Plus, plants are like natural mood boosters, right?”

Touched, you accepted the gift, realizing it was more than just a plant—it symbolized something more.

One day, as you sat together on your cozy couch, Momo turned to you with a soft smile. “You know, you’ve made my Mondays something to look forward to. It’s not just about the deliveries—it’s about you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest and met Momo's gaze. She looked so sickeningly cute, her glasses slightly crooked, her cheeks flushed red and puffed up.

The words hung in the air with hearts beating faster and butterflies flying harder.

Before you could respond, Momo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, her warm fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. She leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours—soft, warm, tentative at first, then pressing with a little more certainty. The gentle pressure of her mouth against yours deepened as you both leaned closer, letting the moment linger.

When she pulled back, Momo gave you a small, shy smile, her nose scrunching up in that familiar way. “I really like you, Y/N.”

Her other hand slipped to the back of your neck, her fingertips tracing lightly along your skin, pulling you closer as her lips found yours again. This kiss was warm, unhurried.

“I like you so much.”

Another kiss.

Mondays would then never be the same, they’d be even better.

[nihilnovisubsole]

hello! i'm asking on hehalf of a friend who wants to get into narrative design (specifically a position at IOI) but has no clue where to start, how to apply, what to include in his portfolio and CV (as he hasn't worked for someone before in that field) and i was wondering if you had any advice? pointers or what he could include to get potentially under their radar. thank you in advance!

hey! thanks for writing in!

it brings me no pleasure to say this, but if your friend has never had a gamedev job before, i'd tell him not to apply to that IOI opening. spare himself the heartache and save the effort for getting experience elsewhere. believe me, i used to hear the kind of advice i'm relaying now, and it made me furious. i hoped i'd never have to be the one giving it.

it may help to have context. any big-deal studio who posts a narrative job is going to get a minimum of several hundred applicants. if they have a reputation for being good at narrative, it could be as high as a thousand. larian (the bg3 people) probably did numbers like that with their recent opening. they tend to ask for three to five years of relevant gamedev experience, unless it's for a senior job. then it could be seven or more. wherever your friend applies, he'll be competing with hungry aspirants like him, veterans whose game got canceled, veterans who want a change of pace, devs who already live in that country and don't need a work visa, devs who are friends with the team because they worked together eight years ago, and, unfortunately, the way the industry's been these days, people who worked on Mega Unicorn All The Awards and got laid off. gross.

should studios take more chances on promising juniors? yeah, they should, but they often don't, and the reasons can be more complicated than "we're evil for the sake of it." sometimes they ask for a lot of experience because a project has hit the skids, so they need someone who can run in and put out fires with no training. sometimes they would love to promote someone internally, but some corporate who-knows-what is preventing them from doing it. (standard disclaimer that i'm not subtweeting anything. these are stories i've heard tons of times from many different devs.) the court intrigue matters, but it doesn't feel like it on the other side, where a rejection is a rejection and no job is no job. it's a shame.

i'm not saying any of that because i want your friend to give up. i'm saying it because i want him to succeed eventually. if he's really starting from nothing, punching in IOI's weight class could take a while, so i encourage him to dig in and get comfortable. he could start by looking into a narrative mentorship or groups that run workshops. i did a pixelles portfolio workshop, and it was great. it couldn't hurt to learn some tools. twine is the standard rec, though i've heard unreal looks great on a resume because many studios use it and writers who can wrestle with it are rare. but in the end, even if your friend snags a rec on the inside, it'll hinge on that portfolio. that means projects, projects, and more projects, and smaller gigs until something clicks.

i applied to obsidian in 2021, so i can't promise any of my portfolio advice is still relevant. the goalposts move from year to year and studio to studio. samples that are crucial for call of duty would be irrelevant to a dating sim. this is why i'm pointing your friend toward workshops and mentorship: they stay up-to-date on this stuff and can give more tailored help. in the meantime, a good friend of mine made a video about how to make a game writing portfolio if he'd like to check it out.

as a parting shot, i'll also link this bluesky thread where my other friend addresses a lot of the anxieties i've brought up here. she's not afraid to be frank, but remains optimistic that your friend should keep his options open and keep trying. i hope he smashes through that ceiling one day!

[five-rivers]

Dreams of Time 2

[Written with prompts from @ventisettestars and @bubblegumbeech!]

Danny might have been reckless, but he wasn’t actively suicidal.  Or passively suicidal.  Or suicidal at all, actually.  He liked being alive.  Just as a general thing.  Not that he hated being dead.  A ghost.  He meant he didn’t hate being a ghost.  Which… was a type of being dead.  

Existing.  He didn’t hate existing.  He liked existing.  

Yeah.

He might be dumb, too.  

The point was, he knew Nocturn could overpower him.  Especially now that he’d overpowered him once, and stuck that thing in his throat.  Luckily, he was used to playing along when in a room with an enemy and someone clueless.  Vlad was good for that, at least.  He rubbed his neck and grimaced at the stickiness under his fingers.  

“Are you feeling alright, Daniel?” asked Clockwork, turning from his work.  While he wasn’t looking, the spring in his tweezers turned into a miniature cherry branch with blooming flowers.  Danny’s attention was pulled away when Clockwork touched his forehead.  “Hmm.”

Danny would have liked to tell Clockwork exactly what was bothering him, but heavy midnight black ooze drooled from between his lips instead.  Clockwork didn’t seem to notice.  

“Would you like to lie down?” asked Clockwork.  “If you are feeling unwell, you can always rest in your room.”

Danny shook his head and eyed Nocturn apprehensively.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Truly, there is no point in lying,” said Nocturn.

“Now, now,” said Clockwork, twisting to pat Nocturn on the arm.  “There is no need to make accusations.  You may always change your mind, Daniel.”

Clockwork picked the tweezers back up.  “Ah, this happens sometimes,” he said, indicating the cherry branch.  Then, he went back to describing the mechanisms of the clock he was assembling.  None of them made sense, but Danny wasn’t sure if that was because they were inherently nonsensical, due to being in a dream, or because Danny wasn’t paying close enough attention, due to Nocturn looming over them.  

Okay.  So.  Shocking Clockwork.  With Nocturne there.  Okay.  Danny could do this.  

What would be shocking?

For him, the first time he’d encountered Nocturn, it was Sam kissing him (which shouldn’t have been that shocking, they’d done a lot of fake-out make-outs), for Sam, it was ‘Dash Phantom,’ for Tucker, it was just…  Danny showing up… Which was kind of mean…  And, for Jazz, it was being married to Dash.  

Lots of relationship drama type stuff.  Not that four people was a big enough sample size to be statistically relevant.  

(Hey, Danny paid attention in science!  That’s where he learned about space!)

So, Danny should probably try to generate some relationship drama.  His eyes slid over to Nocturn.  Nocturn gave him a thin, dangerous, smile.  

Danny pulled his lips back in a sort of instinctive half-snarl.  More goo leaked out past his teeth.  

Maybe– Maybe Danny should kiss them.  That would startle Clockwork, right?  And show Nocturn exactly how gross their weird dream goo was.  

And then Nocturn would kill him.  

(Plus, Nocturn was, like, a million years old.  Kissing him, even for shock value was just–  Yeah.)

Danny looked away.  Clockwork absently patted his knee, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.  That was going to be hard to get used to.  

So, relationship drama between Clockwork and Nocturn was…  Not out, exactly, but shelved for the moment.  Until he failed to come up with a better idea.  

What else?  Well, if Clockwork thought Danny was his kid in this dream, maybe he could run away from home?  Except Nocturn was very capable of dragging him back, or making a fake dream-Danny.  Well, it’d be safer to try.  He’d put that on his list.  

Faking a seizure or something?  Clockwork would be able to see through that, though, wouldn’t he?  Maybe if Danny added in some judicious use of powers, like duplication–

Duplication.  Would the thing in his throat duplicate?  It wasn’t part of him, but then, neither were his clothes– Or were they?  His suit warped with him, healed, dissolved if it was separated from him for too long…

“Daniel?”  Clockwork was checking his temperature again, and this was absolutely not the right time to have an existential crisis.  On any subject.  

He bit his lower lip, and then wrenched at his core to duplicate.  

Duplication was a difficult power even in ideal circumstances.  Danny’s present circumstances were far from ideal.  He was dream-hopping, and there was a foreign ghostly presence (however weak) lodged in his throat.  

He encountered the problems caused by the compressed sleepwalker first.  While he was separating, peeling apart from himself, it wasn’t, and when he started to slide away from himself, particle moving from particle, it caught.  The effect was like his throat being grabbed, twice over, but he had experience with that, so he pulled. 

Which is when he encountered the next problem.  

In the real world, the waking world, duplication was somewhere between mitosis and intangibly splitting himself.  Which wasn’t an explanation that satisfied Sam, Jazz, or even Tucker, but Danny didn’t have a better one.  Especially since he was probably doing it wrong in the first place.  

But this wasn’t the real world.  This was inside Clockwork's dream, inside his mind, inside his body.  So instead of stepping away from each other and into clear air, the duplicates stepped back into the net-maze of Clockwork's will.  

Danny was slammed back into his body, his throat aching as if he'd been screaming for hours.  His fingers felt numb.  He had also fallen off the stool. 

Huh.  He didn't have to fake a seizure after all.  He could just have one.  

A blurry mass of purple and blue entered his vision.  “You are back with us,” said Clockwork.  “How do you feel?”

“Bad,” said Danny.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Danny.”  

“Do you know where you are?”

Briefly, Danny hoped that the reason he was on the floor was that he'd managed to wake Clockwork up, but, no, there was Nocturn.  Smug bastard.  

“Workshop,” said Danny, when it became clear he wouldn't be able to say anything at all unless he lied.  He tried to sit up, not wanting to lay in the puddle of goo he had produced. 

Clockwork pushed him back down.  “Wait.  Are you injured?”

“I– No.” 

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “I’m fine.  Really.”

Clockwork frowned.  “Nocturne, love, will you watch him for a moment?  I will fetch his medicine.”

Nocturn hummed.  “Of course,” they said.  

“Thank you,” said Clockwork.  He leaned close to Danny again and pressed another kiss to his forehead.  “I know this is difficult, but it will be alright.”

Danny didn’t want to be left alone with Nocturn, but he wasn’t able to say that, because Nocturn was a jerk.  

“That was quite a performance,” said Nocturn.  “Very dramatic.”

Danny scowled and rolled over to push himself to his knees.  “It wasn’t a performance.”

“Everything is a performance.  Just because it is genuine doesn’t make it less so.”

“Whatever,” said Danny.  He looked around the workshop and all its detail… Although some of those details were warping in Clockwork’s absence.  If it was like this in a dream, how much did it matter to him?

The seed of an idea took root.  It wasn’t an idea he liked.  It also wasn’t something he wanted to try with Nocturn right there.

“Oh, dear me.  It seems you have managed to have a thought,” said Nocturn.  A lounge chair materialized for them to sit in.  “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

“Like you could,” said Danny, before he could think better of it.  

“You are in a dream I control.  Of course I could.  I already did.  But I’m curious.  And I would very much like to disillusion Clockwork as to your… virtue.”

Danny scowled, but shut his mouth before he could say anything else.  “You really aren’t going to stop me?”

Nocturn smiled. Black liquid came up out of Danny’s throat with enough force that it started to pour out of his nose.  Danny’s hands flew to his face in an instinctive attempt to clear his airway.  

“Remember.  I could if I wanted to.  Easily.”

Danny gagged again, then sucked in a wet-sounding breath.  

“You’re already beaten,” said Nocturn.  “The only reason I haven’t squashed you is because that would upset Clockwork.  As soon as he no longer cares.”  Nocturn mimed squishing a bug.  

Danny reached out and grasped the edge of a workbench, pulling himself up.  He made eye contact with Nocturn.  Then, he grabbed the clock Clockwork had been working on and smashed it to the floor.  

Nocturn looked bored.  

Danny put his other hand on the edge of the workbench and heaved it upward, overturning it.  He looked back at Nocturn, who looked even more bored.  

So, they really weren’t going to do anything.  

Fine.  Great.  That probably meant that this wouldn’t work, if Nocturn was so unconcerned, but now that he'd started, he couldn't stop. 

He overturned all of the tables and swept his hands over the shelves on the walls, knocking everything off, then hit the shelves themselves with a few ectoblasts for good measure.  When that didn't destroy the more robust mechanisms, he  manifested an ectoplasmic construct in the rough shape of a hammer and started hitting things.  

“Daniel?”

Clockwork’s tone was so confused that Danny felt his heart plummet even though that was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.  He wanted Clockwork to be shocked.  That way, he’d wake up.  And rescue Danny from Nocturn.  Hopefully.  

(Danny really didn’t like how Nocturn had gotten the best of Clockwork, to put him to sleep, but he hoped that Nocturn had just taken Clockwork by surprise.  Despite Clockwork being able to see the future.)

“Why would you do this?” asked Clockwork.  He was standing in the doorway, holding a small, antique medicine bottle and a silver spoon.  

“Because–” Danny couldn’t just say ‘you’re in a dream and you need to wake up,’ so… “I hate you and you aren’t my real dad!”

Clockwork’s face cleared instantly.  “I see!” he said.  “You are testing my limits to see how I treat you when I am angry with you.  Rest assured, that I have no intention of harming you, kicking you out, or restricting your food access, as others have.”  He paused, thoughtful.  “Go to your room.  After you take your medicine, that is.”

“Medicine?” asked Danny, eying the bottle.  Knowing Nocturn - and dreams in general - whatever was in there would do something unpleasant to him.  

Clockwork flew up to him.  “For your illness,” he said.  “To help with the seizures, memory loss, and… other symptoms.”  He looked around the destroyed room.  “Of which this may be part.  No matter.”  He made a sweeping gesture and with a wave of blue sparkles the workshop jumped back to the way it was before Danny decided to wreck it.  

Right.  Master of Time.  Master of Time in a dream, even.

While Danny stared at the room, Clockwork had opened the medicine bottle and carefully poured something milky into the spoon.  “There,” he said, when the spoon was full to its brim.  “Take this, please.”

“Um,” said Danny, leaning away.  He took a step backward.  Clockwork took a step forward, raising the spoon to the level of Danny’s lips.  “No, I think I’m fine.”  

The milky substance smelled sweet and floral.  Not like medicine at all.  

“Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “You have had this before.  It is unpleasant, but it isn’t poisonous.  I must insist that you take it.  When you don’t, you have more seizures.”

Danny shot a look at Nocturn.  “It’s true,” said Nocturn, with mock concern.  “You will have more seizures if you don’t take that.”

That was a threat.  Judging by his expression, Clockwork hadn’t noticed.  

So… the choice was to have Nocturn giving him ‘seizures,’ or drink the mystery liquid.  Which was… Well, Nocturn could probably make him drink it, if he wanted to.  He was forcing him, basically, just with the force of Clockwork’s concern and various threats.  

It was effective.  Danny would say that.  

Very reluctantly, he opened his mouth.  The ‘medicine’ tasted like grass.  

“There we are,” said Clockwork.  “Now, I will walk you to your room.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Danny, because he’d been hoping to escape into the depths of Long Now to plan his next attempts to escape.  From the dream, that is, not from Long Now.  Or dream Long Now.  

“Daniel, you just had a seizure.  I don’t want you to have another one while you’re walking down the hall.”  He paused.  “I could carry you.”

“No,” said Danny, quickly.  “That’s weird.”

“Then we’ll go together.”  Clockwork put his hand on the small of Danny’s back and steered him out of the workshop.  

For a second, Danny thought that Nocturn might stay behind.  He was disappointed.  

The hallway wasn’t as clearly and sharply defined as the workshop was.  It was almost generic, an average of all the hallways in the lair.  Walking down it took both longer and shorter than it should have, the walls, floor, and ceiling sliding by at different rates.  It was both ruler straight and twisty enough that he couldn't see more than a meter ahead. 

By the time they appeared in front of the door (or the door appeared in front of them), Danny was thoroughly dizzy and leaning on Clockwork for support. 

“There we are,” said Clockwork, opening the door and leading Danny in.  He patted Danny's back.  “Clean yourself up and take a rest.  I will come get you when it is time to eat.  Unless you would prefer me to stay?”

Danny glanced at Nocturne, then shook his head. 

“Would you like Nocturn to stay?  Pajamas he can put you to sleep–”

Danny shook his head harder. 

“Very well,” said Clockwork.  He flew back out into the hallway.  “Call us if you need us, please.”  He shut the door, the latch making a faint clicking noise as it fell into place.  

Danny was alone.  In a dream that wasn't his.  Briefly, he wondered if the room he was in was going to fall apart or dissolve. 

When that didn't happen, Danny looked around the room.  It was kind of amazing, actually.  Just… not in the way that Danny usually expected from Long Now and Clockwork.  

It was detailed, just like the workshop, although the edges were soft, comfortable, rather than sharp.  The bed was covered in a blue quilt with pale gold stitching.  It hadn’t been made quite right - actually, it looked a lot like how he made his bed when he was in a hurry - and the sheets underneath were peeking out.  The pillows were slightly askew, but they looked soft and fluffy.  The rugs on the floor continued that theme.  There were shelves along the walls that contained books, model rockets, and other knick-knacks.  The walls had posters for bands and space shuttles.  A desk in the corner had both drawing tools and a sleek computer on it.  A window looked out on what appeared to be outer space itself.

In short, it was the kind of room Danny would design for himself, if he didn’t have a budget, complete with the contents of the bedside table.  Actually, some of the things in the room - posters, models, and books - were stuff Danny had in his room.  His real room.  

He didn’t know whether to be creeped out or touched.  

Danny wanted to look at those books.  He wanted to turn on the computer, and flip through the sketchbook.  He wanted to know what Clockwork thought he would like, what he thought he’d draw, or play.  

The palms of his hands itched and he licked his lips.  

He shook his head and looked away. 

Just in time for Nocturn to appear.

“Did you truly expect to surprise or shock someone who can see the future?” they asked, mockingly.  

Danny was pretty sure that he had surprised Clockwork.  It just hadn’t been enough.  He had other questions. 

“Shouldn’t he be able to tell what’s happening now if he can still see the future and the past and everything?”

Nocturn waved a lazy hand.  “Clockwork is Master of Time, I am Master of Dreams.  He does not read minds.  I can.  Everything that is happening is happening inside his head.”

“But then I should be able to surprise him,” said Danny, holding on to his point.  “Since he can’t see what I’m going to do.”

Nocturn’s eyes were solid red, but Danny knew the body language that went into an eyeroll.  “He may not be able to see what you are going to do now.  But he has seen every possible action you could take, over and over, in his waking life.  What he has not seen, he has imagined.  There is nothing you could do to surprise him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” said Nocturn.  “Just as I know that you would be doomed to fail even if you could surprise Clockwork.  You picked a fight with me in a dream.”

Danny felt himself flush.  “Well, I wasn’t going to let you do whatever you wanted to Clockwork!  And I’m still not!  I’m not giving up just because you’re stronger than I am.”  He hadn’t done that with Dash, and he wasn’t going to now.  

For some reason, this made Nocturn pause.  They swept their gaze over Danny, from his head to his toes.  It made his body feel tingly, and he crossed his arms.  

“I see,” said Nocturn, tone significantly more subdued than before.  It didn’t make Danny feel better.  “But your plan, if it can even be called that, failed.”

“My next one won’t.”

[flightyalrighty]

Hey you got an advices for a newbie who thinks about doing commissions? :>

And did you have any bad experiences? (You don't have to answer if it is too private)

I won't go into detail for any bad commission experiences, but I can at least tell you what I learned from em in the form of the advice you asked for:

PRICING! When figuring out pricing, ask yourself the following:

What is an hour of my work worth? This question helps you avoid underselling yourself aka selling under minimum wage. You're definitely worth more than that. $20 is a pretty good starting point for folks who aren't too confident in their own stuff.

How long does it take to complete an art piece? Create one sample of every type of commission you want to sell. Time yourself when you make them. Whatever amount of time it takes to create each piece multiplied by the hourly wage you've set for yourself is going to be your base price for each thing ($20 x 2 hours for a full body sketch = $40). You can also use the samples you've made to help advertise in your commission post and show your potential clients what it is they can expect from you!

How should I charge for add-ons? Once again, figure how long something takes, and shoot for something that seems both fair for you and the client. For extra characters or something like a background, for example, I charge an extra 50% of the base price.

PROBLEMATIC CLIENTS! Got a client that doesn't know what they actually want? Too wishy washy? Too nitpicky? There's a solution! Offer a limited amount of revisions. I offer two free ones, personally. Once the client is out of revisions, I charge them 20% for each additional revision, and I MAKE SURE THEY CAN SEE THAT ON THE FORM THEY FILL OUT. That way, clients are encouraged to get their WHOLE idea in order before going to you. No one wants to be charged extra for a mistake they made, after all -- And it's definitely their mistake if they leave out any details they later deem important and want you to fix.

THE AFOREMENTIONED FORM TO BE FILLED! I used Google Forms, personally. It makes your little business look a bit more professional AND it helps you keep track of multiple projects at once, while prompting the clients to give you the info you specifically need (like reference images). It's good!

BE PROFESSIONAL! You're more likely to get repeat customers if you maintain a professional customer service attitude while handling clients, and deliver your work as promptly as you can. Delivering work PROMPTLY is definitely something you need to imagine me circling and underlining. Please do your best to not take, like, a year? To complete a commission? It's a really bad look. Treat it like homework. Give yourself your own little due date to work with.

While we're on that! DEFINITELY send your clients WIPs while you work! Showing that you're making progress is a great way to get feedback from the client before it's too late to change anything, PLUS it keeps their mind at ease about the possibility of you potentially taking their money and running.

KEEP YOURSELF SAFE! Speaking of taking money and running, set up a system that works when it comes to charging clients and delivering the goods. I have been burned in the past and have learned from this. Some artists charge their clients upfront before delivering anything at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of this, because then it leaves the client open to feeling uneasy about possibly getting scammed. Obviously I'm not a scammer, but to lift the weight of that possibility on the minds of my clients, I charge half upfront and half upon completion. This way, I already have SOME money so the client isn't gonna "dine-and-dash" me, and the client, likewise, is holding the other half of the pay in a friendly self-imposed hostage situation. I do recommend this!

I also use Paypal to INVOICE my clients. This way, I have full control over the nature of what I'm charging and can avoid the client accidentally (or maliciously) sending a payment with something in there meant to get my Paypal account shut down. DO NOT WRITE JOKES ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE CHARGING YOUR CLIENT FOR. DO NOT GET YOURSELF IN TROUBLE FOR SOMETHING STUPID.

And this is all the advice I currently have on me! I hope it helps!

[millenianthemums]

Chapter 6 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is up!!

Writing this one took me a while, and then the art also took a while… everything took a while. i always enjoy writing this once i get to it, though! hope you enjoy this one too.

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It was hard for Mabel to really relax, knowing that Bill was lurking just below the floorboards. But by the time the sun was low and her family was gathered around the dinner table, she’d mostly put it out of her mind. It was hard to be miserable with them around.

“You think Soos will bring more empanadas when he’s here tomorrow?” Dipper asked, picking at the strangely opalescent casserole on his plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something about my cooking,” Ford said wryly.

“Whaaat? No! No, don’t be– that’s ridiculous,” Dipper said. “This is great! I mean, it’s a million times better than last time, this one didn’t even come to life and attack us–”

“Don’t jinx it,” Stan said.

“Hey, c’mon, guys,” Mabel piped up. “It’s the thought that counts, right? It’s really sweet that he tried. Besides, even Grunkle Ford can’t be perfect at everything.”

Ford chuckled. “Thank you, Mabel. As far as backhanded compliments go, that’s quite nice.”

“It’s true!” she said. “So what if you’re not a chef? You invent, like, six magical contraptions a week!”

“That’s a wild exaggeration,” Ford said with a grin. “It’s been at least a month since the last one. Although Fiddleford and I have made some real progress on our current project…”

“New project?” Dipper perked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know if the details will interest you that much–”

“Shaaare!” Mabel demanded. Dipper immediately joined in, both of them pumping their fists and shouting “Share! Share! Share!” until Ford laughed and gave in. They all knew he didn’t really need that much encouragement, but it was fun anyway.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you.” Ford waved his hands to set the scene, the way he always did when he started talking about science stuff. “So, we all know that unicorn tears have remarkable healing properties, right? But we also know that unicorns aren’t generous creatures, and trying to obtain some tears by force often creates more injuries than they could ever heal.”

Stan snorted. “And how many tries did it take for that lesson to set in?”

“Not the topic, Stanley. Anyway, our goal was to synthetically recreate the healing properties of the tears, eliminating the need to seek out the real thing. This has been in the works for a long time; in fact, our biggest breakthroughs came from studying the sample Mabel and her friends obtained last year…”

Dipper extended a fist to Mabel, and she proudly bumped it.

“...And I must say, we’ve had some very promising results with the latest prototypes! There have been some hiccups here and there– we really should have fireproofed the lab sooner– but I think in the next few weeks, we might even end up with something that could surpass the healing properties of unicorn tears!”

“Nice!” Mabel held out a fist to Ford. “Take that, you overrated horses!”

Ford laughed, accepting the fist bump. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s hoping you get it workin’ before we set out again. It’d make things way less stressful on the boat. Heck, the coast guard medics might even have time to forget our names!”

“Wait, you’re setting out again?” Dipper asked. “When?”

“End of the summer, same as you kids!” Stan said proudly. “First thing in September, we’re headed right back out there.”

Ford nodded. “We still have a lot more to investigate. I expect we’ll be very busy once Fall comes around, which is why I’m under strict orders to ‘take it easy’ while we’re here. Otherwise, the elixir would probably be finished by now–” Stan crossed his arms, and Ford quickly added “--but I completely understand the point of it. Rest is important, kids.”

“Darn right,” Stan grunted. “Far as I’m concerned, we’re both on vacation for the summer.”

Dipper tapped his fork on his chin. “So you won’t be studying Gravity Falls for a while?”

“C’mon, brobro,” Mabel chided. “Grunkle Ford’s willingly taking a break for once, let’s not remind him of all the extra stuff he could be doing!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dipper protested. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s a fair question,” Ford said. “There certainly are plenty of mysteries left unsolved around here. But I think Stanley and I have broadened our focus a bit too much to give special attention to Gravity Falls anymore. Just our brief stay in the Arctic Circle alone has raised so many fascinating questions, and we still have so many more places to investigate… there’s just not enough time to solve all the world’s mysteries, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, relax, Poindexter,” Stan cut in, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones working on this stuff. Something tells me Gravity Falls’ll be in good hands, even without us.” He gave Dipper a meaningful wink. Mabel couldn’t help but smile at the way her brother’s face lit up.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to seem subtle. “Can we talk after dinner? I was hoping to get some feedback on this project I’m working on…”

Mabel’s smile faded. “Is it about that dumb thesis contest?” She turned to the Grunkles and pointed accusingly at Dipper. “He won’t let me help with it! He wouldn’t shut up about how cool it would be to win and get a big smarty-pants paper published, and now that he’s allowed to start working on it he won’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about! I could have done like fifty illustrations by now if—”

“I told you, there’s nothing to share yet!” Dipper protested. “I’ve… kinda been putting it off. I’ve still got a week until the topic proposal’s due…”

“Then what do you need Stan and Ford’s ‘feedback’ on?”

Dipper tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh… it’s…”

“I could help,” she said, voice a little louder than she’d wanted. “Even if it’s something I’m bad at, I could help make it look cool. If you just told me a little bit about it…”

Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel, I promise I’ll share it with you soon, okay? I just… I want it to be a surprise.”

Mabel looked at him doubtfully over the rim of her water glass. She wanted to keep prying, but it was clear she was just making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want her help, he just didn’t know how to say it. She could tell.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt. It was fine, really. She had high-speed bike riding; Dipper was allowed to have things just for himself too. It was normal for twins to grow apart. She drained the rest of her glass and stared down at the tablecloth.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Stan spoke up. “Speaking of surprises. Hey Sixer, remember that thing we ran into off the coast of Greenland in March?”

Ford laughed. “How could I possibly forget? Now, kids, I don’t know about you, but nothing in my paleontology education gave me the impression that wooly mammoths were aquatic…”

Soon Mabel was too wrapped up in seafaring stories to be sad about anything.

——-

Bill must have fallen asleep at some point. He’d been lying there, in the basement, in the dark, with the Pines’ infernal voices ringing above him, but then something had happened. The voices changed. And suddenly he wasn’t in a basement anymore. He was lying on an exam table, and his arms were strapped down, and his eye wouldn’t close, and the air was thick with antiseptic. And there were voices all around him, moving around him, but he knew he couldn’t look, he just had to keep his eye focused on the stars overhead, just don’t look, just don’t look at them, just pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re among the stars and nothing’s happening, nothing hurts. So he didn’t look away, not even when the quiet voices he could hear through the pain changed again, became painfully familiar, he still didn’t look, even when they started screaming, even when their cries and pleading were drowned out by the sounds of flames, even when the heat waves twisted the air and the crunching, sizzling, tearing sounds and the smell of burning meat drowned out all his other senses he still didn’t look, he didn’t look down, he wouldn’t–

And then he was back in the basement. It was dark and still. The only sound was his own ragged breathing.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face with the blanket he’d been wrapped in. Dreams. He hadn’t been ready to deal with dreams. Other people’s dreams were a riot. Not his own.

He’d been distracted too quickly to dwell on the last one. He’d foolishly hoped that would be the last one for a while. But no, of course not. This world couldn’t allow him even a moment of peace. Every sleep was going to be like this.

In the dark, he staggered to the small bathroom in the back of the room. He ran the cold water in the sink and rinsed his mouth until he forgot the taste of the smoke. It was so vivid. So convincing. Even though none of it had made any sense, it felt real.

He stared numbly at the mirror. Their voices. He’d remembered them, of course. Despite all the worlds that had sprouted and withered between then and now, despite everything he’d tried, he’d never been able to stop remembering them. But he never thought he’d have to hear those voices again.

Someone knocked at the door.

His first thought was “thank god”. He’d been desperately hoping for anything else to think about. His second thought, as he heard the door unlock, was “that could be anybody”. So he stood just at the edge of the room and prepared to run for cover, until a small, high-pitched voice said “It’s me.”

Bill relaxed a little. Not a lot, but more than zero. He scrubbed his face dry and straightened his bowtie before she entered, trying to look as stoic as possible. She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she rushed in and slumped against the door to shut it. Both her hands were busy carrying an overloaded paper plate.

Trying her best to not let it fold under the weight of the food piled onto it, she glanced around for a surface to place it on. The curved lid of the wooden chest was considered, then quickly rejected when the plate started sliding. She winced before resorting to setting it down on the floor beside the beanbag. Finally, she retrieved a packet of plastic utensils from a takeout place and laid it beside the plate, trying to make it look presentable.

“We need to get a table or something in here,” she muttered as Bill drew closer to inspect the offering.

“YEAH, SOME APPLIANCES WOULD BE NICE TOO,” he joked. “I’M THINKIN’ A STUDIO APARTMENT KIND OF SETUP. WASHER AND DRYER OVER THERE, THAT CORNER’S THE KITCHEN… FULL-SIZE JACUZZI ON THAT SIDE, OBVIOUSLY…”

“I have six dollars,” Mabel piped up.

Bill laughed before he could stop himself. Encouraged, she went on: “I mean, there’s an empty fish tank and a car battery in the garage. We could make a hole in the side and stick a blowdryer in there for a jet. That’d be fine, right?”

He laughed again. “I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT, KID. IF WE SHUT OFF THE SPRINKLERS, WE COULD SET UP A FIRE PIT IN THE KITCHEN CORNER!”

“Perfect plan!” Mabel laughed along with him, but then seemed to think better of it. “But okay, hold on, we can start with the home renovations later. For now, you should eat.” She pointed to the plate. “It’s just some leftovers from tonight. Figured taking more snacks would look suspicious. But if it, uh… disagrees with you… then just let me know tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a glowing review. Looking dubiously at the alleged “food” on the plate, he didn’t see much reason to doubt it. Still, he tried to look grateful as he picked up a plastic fork. “WILL DO,” he said, trying not to look down.

“I’ll come back down tomorrow, before the others wake up,” she said, crossing back over to the door. “Including Grunkle Ford… ugh, that’s gonna suck. But once I’m back, we’ll figure out a plan, okay?”

Bill glanced around the room. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PLAN,” he said.

“C’mon, you can’t just stay in one tiny dark room all summer! This isn’t Guacamole or something.”

Bill snorted. “GUANTANAMO?”

“Whatever,” she said, flushing. “The point is we need to get you outside once in a while. You have scales, things with scales need sunlight or they get sick. And what’s the point of all this work if you get sick and die??”

She had a point there. Bill shifted uncomfortably, realizing he wasn’t totally sure if the sun thing would apply to him or not. “YEAH, FAIR ENOUGH. KEEP FORGETTING THIS…” he gestured to the body, “…THING NEEDS ‘VITAMINS’ AND SUCHLIKE.”

“Relatable, honestly. But there’s a bunch more stuff to plan out, too! We need to be able to contact each other in emergencies. And, like, a secret knock so you know when it’s me, and a code to communicate…” as she spoke, her hands started flapping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s like one of those spy games Dipper likes. We could make a guidebook with all this stuff! Like a, what, codex? For the code? We could make our own code! You can handle that part— I know that’s your thing, it’s literally your name… I get to do all the art, though. It can have a scrapbook vibe— I gotta find my craft scissors with the zig-zags—”

“KID.” Bill cut her off. “I KNOW IT’S IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO TAKE STUFF SERIOUSLY. IT’S A GOOD TRAIT! MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE BEARABLE. BUT THIS ISN’T SOME SILLY SUMMER CRAFT PROJECT. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH, GOT IT? CAN WE TRY TO ACT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT?”

She looked hurt. “Silly things are still important,” she muttered. “We could hide it in here. And even if someone finds it, it could be any goofy old thing I made! Dipper showed me how to do that invisible ink thing; I could act like the empty space is just unfinished parts! I dunno, I just… I thought it’d make this whole thing a little more fun.”

Bill squinted at her as she stared at the floor, arms crossed tight over her chest. Then he rolled his eye. Maybe he was being a choosing beggar here. This was Mabel Pines; of course she’d want to make some stupid game out of this. And the whole plan was to humor her. If this was what it took to keep her invested, he should probably just play along.

“OKAY, FINE. I’M IN,” he sighed. “WE CAN MAKE A BOOK OR WHATEVER.”

She lit up again. “Really?? Yes! Awesome! It’ll be so fun, I promise.” She paused and glanced at the dark window. “But we can start that later. I gotta go get at least a tiny bit of sleep first.”

Bill shrugged. “SURE. CAN’T KEEP THIS BODY ALIVE IF YOURS GIVES OUT.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she snorted. “And see you in the morning.” She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her.

Watching the door, he heard the heavy “clunk” of the lock clicking shut, then rapid footsteps bounding up the staircase. He sighed and pinched his forehead. That much youthful energy couldn’t be sustainable. She probably wouldn’t live past 20.

As he waited for the various noises and occupants of the house to settle, he wolfed down the food as fast as he could. The kid was right to be apologetic, but if he ate quickly, he didn’t taste it much. It was just fuel anyway.

When the plate was finally empty, he dropped it back to the floor and picked up the plastic fork. He rinsed it in the sink as well as he could, wiped it dry with the paper napkin that came with the set, then bent one of the tines away from the others. He leaned one side against the crack in the door, listening intently to the silence from above. There wasn’t a whisper of movement.

He stuck the tine of the fork into the lock.

It was more stubborn than your typical household lock, but Bill had bested much worse with much less. It only took a little finagling before he heard the “clunk” he was listening for. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. He stashed his impromptu lockpick in his hat, locked the door behind him, and crept up into the house.

—-

The place was as quiet and dark as he’d hoped for. He’d been right to judge by the footsteps above him that they’d all gone to bed. And thankfully, even without his usual glow, the stars outside were bright enough to see by. He crept along with his back against the wall, testing each floorboard before he stepped, scanning his surroundings.

The decor was about the same as he remembered, with a few notable changes. A lot of the ceiling and walls had been replaced; probably necessary after they turned it into a big stupid robot last year. And it seemed like someone else might have moved in. There were some new decorations that weren't anything close to the “style” he’d come to expect from the place. Lace doilies hung from the tops of chairs and sofas like dusty cobwebs, and handmade blankets and wall hangings were scattered all around. Shooting Star was crafty, sure, but these didn’t look like her handiwork. The colors were way too easy on the eye, and there wasn’t a crumb of glitter to be seen. If they were her doing, they were a big step down in quality.

But if they weren’t, it meant an extra person to deal with. Better keep his eye out.

He turned a corner and a massive shape blotted out the hallway ahead. He scrambled back, clenching his teeth tight beneath his eyelids to stop a yell from escaping.

Then his eye adjusted, and he had to stifle an irritated growl. It was just that stupid pig. He’d forgotten how huge it was now, and it looked a lot less pathetic from a low angle. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, directly in his path, staring down at him. Its eyes glittered in the moonlight like two tiny black teeth.

Bill glared up at it defiantly. Just let it try and make a move. He might not have magic, but he still had claws and teeth. A ripped throat wasn’t as flashy as immolation, but it was still perfectly fatal.

The pig returned his stare with no discernable expression. A few silent seconds crept by.

Then the pig gave a grumbly snort and laid its head on the ground. It flopped onto one side and closed its eyes with an indifferent sigh.

Bill hurried on, telling himself to thank his lucky stars instead of feeling indignant. Still, his ego stung a little. Not even livestock saw him as a threat anymore.

To his relief, he had no more surprise encounters as he cased the second floor. The layout of the rooms was about the same as before, which meant the sounds of walking from above his little home base would still be a reliable method of tracking the inhabitants. He steered well clear of all the bedrooms and kept his back to the wall, and the floorboards beneath him kept silent. He was out of practice with walking, sure, but nobody who grew up causing problems ever forgets how to sneak through a hallway.

Once he’d made mental notes of all the storage spaces that might have supplies he could use, he headed for the portal. On the way through the gift shop he snagged a small notepad and pen from behind the desk. Scanning over the portal wreckage, he made a list of the missing components and tools he’d need. In code, obviously; secret codes were literally his name, after all.

Once the darkness outside started to lift away, he cut his work short and headed back. He tore the used page from the notebook and placed it and the pen back where he’d found them, exchanging them for a single paperclip that he stashed in his hat with the paper. That was all he felt comfortable taking for now. It was much too early to start gathering supplies. Anything left out of place would definitely make the kid suspicious. For now, he’d just plan. Make sure everything went as smoothly as it possibly could. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get all the power tools and steel he’d need down to the basement without being noticed, but there was no point freaking out about it now. He’d figure out logistics later. He could pull this off. He was going to pull this off. He had no other choice.

By the time the first pink rays of light had breached the horizon, he was back in the cell. The paperclip made a perfectly serviceable lockpick to latch the door behind him. Like nothing ever happened.

He curled up in his nest of blankets, trying to hold his eye open. Hoping to ward off the dreams a little longer. But eventually his exhaustion won the battle. His eye slid shut.

Maybe the next dream would at least be over quick.

—-

Bill’s wish came true. As soon as he jolted awake, he regretted making it. It felt like he’d been yanked out of a tar pit by his eyelashes, but his brain stayed behind. His head, chest and eye socket all felt like they were stuffed with wet cotton, and his bones were shaking with this sudden painful chill. His thoughts were so slow and muffled that it took a second for him to even realize that someone was staring him right in the face. He lurched away and fell backwards off the beanbag.

Mabel poked her head over the beanbag and beamed down at where he lay on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “Morning!” she said in a bright half-whisper. “How’d you sleep?”

Bill glared up at her with silent disdain. After a moment, she seemed to take that as an answer. “Yeah, me too. Had a lot of stress dreams. Anyway, time to figure some stuff out.”

She disappeared from view for a moment, then reappeared at his side with a fuzzy pink notebook and a chunky pink pen with a glittery pom-pom topper. She leafed through the book for a minute, then looked up at Bill. “You ok?”

“I’M DYING,” Bill croaked. It was barely hyperbole. That freezing, sinking pain just kept getting worse. Every second he kept his eye open, it felt like gravity increased tenfold.

Mabel hissed through her teeth. “Hold on a second.” She vanished from view again, then popped back in with a mason jar full of what looked like the fluid from inside a neon pink glowstick. She propped him upright and shoved it into his hands. “Drink this.”

Bill ought to have been at least a little suspicious of a drink presented so vaguely. But a billion years of drinking cocktails made from substances meant to power quantum reactions, combined with the weight of sheer exhaustion muffling all his thoughts, meant that he barely hesitated before lifting the jar to his eyelids and taking a gulp.

A second later, his eye shot wide open. “WHOA!” he shouted, blinking rapidly.

“Ooh, I might’ve put too many pop rocks in that batch,” Mabel said. She grabbed the jar and shook it, sending frozen fruit shapes and plastic dinosaurs clattering around in a glittery whirlpool. “Mixing it usually helps. Dipper keeps telling me to warn people before I give them this stuff—”

Bill grabbed the jar back. He took an approving glance at the crazy-looking drink— now that his brain was working, he could fully appreciate the vibe— and then knocked back another mouthful. A rush of energy buzzed through his brain, setting his neurons alight like christmas lights hooked up to a nuclear reactor. The dangerously sugary concoction stung the inside of his mouth like acid, but this was a fun kind of pain. “OH, THIS IS PHENOMENAL.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “You like it??”

“DO I?!” One more swig and the jar was empty, and Bill was actually bouncing in place a little. “I FEEL LIKE A WHOLE NEW TRIANGLE! WHAT IS THAT?!”

“It’s Mabel Juice!” she beamed. “My own personal secret recipe! It’s so secret, not even I know what the secret is! Seriously, I hardly ever write the ingredients down.”

Bill laughed. “WELL, COLOR ME IMPRESSED, KID! I HAVEN’T HAD A DRINK THAT GOOD SINCE THAT BATTERY ACID DAQUIRI I MIXED BACK IN THE ‘30s. AND THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN DISSOLVE MY STOMACH!”

Mabel’s smile dropped for a second, then returned. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said proudly. “I’ll bring more down later. I’ve got a million different brews you can try! The others don’t drink much of it, they always complain about how there’s ‘so much sugar’ and it ‘burns their mouths’ or whatever…”

“HEY, THEIR LOSS! I’LL TAKE IT OFF YOUR HANDS! EXTRA BURNING ON THE SIDE, IF YOU’VE GOT IT,” Bill offered. He had to hand it to the kid; she made pouring on the charm pretty easy. In a better world, he would’ve hired her as a barista in the Fearamid.

Mabel grinned, but then her face froze. From somewhere upstairs, the familiar sound of heavy, clomping footsteps rang through the ceiling.

Bill froze in place too, his eye locked on the ceiling. His teeth clenched tight behind his eye socket as he tried to repress his anger. Like a favorite song after you set it as your morning alarm, that sound made his blood boil on contact.

“Grunkle Ford’s up,” Mabel whispered. Bill glanced over to see her watching the ceiling too. “I thought he’d at least sleep ‘til five…”

“RISKY GAMBLE THERE,” Bill muttered. “FORD DOESN’T HAVE A SLEEP SCHEDULE, HE JUST WORKS ‘TIL HE KEELS OVER.”

“He’s working on it,” Mabel said defensively. Maybe Bill hadn’t kept all the derision out of his voice. He kept his mouth shut, just to be safe.

“Okay. Alright. This is fine.” The kid was clearly reassuring herself more than him. “He shouldn’t hear us down here. Nobody heard you screaming your head off the other day, they shouldn’t hear us just talking… we should be fine for now. As long as he doesn’t wander down here and happen to just randomly get close to this room. Or wander upstairs to his office and pass our bedroom and happen to look in and notice I’m not there. So as long as he stays on the exact floor he’s on now, we’ll be okay…”

“KID, RELAX. YOU SOUND LIKE PINETREE,” Bill laughed. “WITH HOW LOUD THOSE STEPS ARE, WE’LL HAVE A TON OF WARNING IF HE HEADS FOR ANY STAIRS. JUST CUT TO THE CHASE SO YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP FOR NOTHING.”

She shot another worried glance at the ceiling, then nodded. “Okay. Sure. The chase… hold on.” She grabbed her notepad and pen again, then started rooting around for something else in the backpack she’d brought. “The Chase, part one. Secret messages. Ooh, that’s good.” She opened the book and labeled the first page with that title. Bill bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that huge pink bubble letters weren’t the best choice for subtlety.

“Now,” she said, throwing the notebook down like a frazzled detective presenting her notes. “I would’ve loved to, like, build a two-way radio out of soda cans, or find a way to send smoke signals through the A/C system or something. But I think we should wait on that ‘til later. Right now, simplicity’s the name of the game.” With a victorious flourish, she revealed the thing she’d fished out of the bag. It took a second for Bill to parse what the battered old thing even was. A cell phone. An ancient, blocky brick of a flip-screen cell phone.

“YEESH!” he exclaimed as she shoved it into his hands. “WHAT ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND DIDJA DIG THIS THING OUT OF? IT’S OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAD!”

Mabel snorted. “Give me a break! It was the best one I could find in the closet where Grunkle Stan keeps all his burner phones.”

“WELL, I’D HATE TO SEE THE COMPETITION!” Bill remarked. “WHAT WAS THE WORST ONE, A CLAY TABLET? A BONE CARVED FLUTE TO CALL THE NEANDERTHAL TRIBE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN?”

Mabel hid a giggle behind the turtleneck of her sweater. All according to plan. Jokes were a great way of lowering a mark’s defenses, even if they didn’t land. And despite her best efforts, Shooting Star was a good audience.

He held down the power button and marvelled as the dusty, scuffed screen actually lit up. “WHAAAT! LOOK AT THIS LOGO! THIS COMPANY WENT UNDER IN 2002! THE CEO BURNED DOWN THE OFFICE TO HIDE TAX FRAUD AND MELTED HIS EYELIDS OFF!”

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh!! Why would you tell me that?”

“BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS! THE GUY WAS A TOTAL LOSER ANYWAY, HE WAS TOO UPTIGHT TO TAKE MY DEAL AND COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE A WEEK OF NIGHT TERRORS BEFORE HE CRACKED—”

“Anyway!” She cut him off. “This was the only phone I found in the closet that could send texts. We need to be able to keep in touch, so you can let me know if you’re hurt or need more supplies, and I can warn you if people upstairs can hear you practicing your evil laugh or something.”

“WHA— HEY! WHO EVEN— NOBODY NEEDS TO PRACTICE THEIR LAUGH, THAT’S JUST STUPID.” Bill hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. There was no way she actually knew about that, right?

She just rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Point is, that phone is yours. Nobody’ll recognize that number. My number’s in there already, you can text me in morse code if you need something.”

Bill looked up from the phone screen to squint at her. “MORSE? C’MON, KID.”

“What’s wrong with morse?”

“THAT’S THE MOST BASIC CODE IN EXISTENCE! YOU REALLY THINK ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE MORSE WHEN THEY SAW IT?” he said. “YOU THINK THEY’LL SEE YOU ANSWERING TEXTS IN MORSE FROM SOME RANDOM NUMBER AND HAVE ANY OTHER THOUGHT BESIDES ‘SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING’?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine, Mr. Code Snob. What should we use?”

“WE SHOULDN’T ‘USE’ ANYTHING. WE JUST KEEP THINGS VAGUE AND SIMPLE,” he said. “ANYTHING THAT EVEN LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE CODE WILL JUST GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. BESIDES, IN A HOUSE FULL OF CON ARTISTS AND MYSTERY DORKS, I DOUBT THERE’S ANY CODE WE COULD USE ON THIS THING THAT NONE OF THEM WILL RECOGNIZE. THESE TEXTS NEED TO BE AS BORING AND UN-MYSTERIOUS AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY BE. SO BORING THAT NOT EVEN PINETREE IN HIS SNOOPIEST MOOD WOULD GLANCE AT ‘EM TWICE.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “Spam!” she said after a minute. “Dipper and I get spam texts from random numbers all the time. We can make up a system where I know what you’re saying based on what you’re trying to sell me. Like a scam alphabet!”

Bill’s eye crinkled with his version of a grin. “NOW YOU’RE TALKING!”

Mabel grabbed her pen and started rattling off scams to list in her notebook. Stan had clearly taught her well, and between the both of them they soon had a massive list to work from. On the opposite page, they listed phrases to match with each scam. “NEED FOOD”, “NEED SUPPLIES”, “INJURY”, “FIRE”, “RACCOON GOT IN”, and so on. As soon as they had a workable “alphabet”, the kid insisted they start deciding on secret knocks. They’d just started to argue about whether “shave-and-a-haircut” was too uncreative, when suddenly Mabel stopped short and held out a hand. Before Bill could ask what was up, he realized what she’d heard. A voice from upstairs. A voice that was much too prepubescent to be Ford’s.

“Dipper’s up,” Mabel hissed. “Why is Dipper up? He never gets up this early on his own… Did he notice I was gone? Is he looking for me?? How am I gonna get back up without—”

“GEEZ, RELAX,” Bill said. “LOOK, THE STAIRCASE TO THE ATTIC IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM THIS ONE. JUST WAIT UNTIL HE’S IN THE KITCHEN…” he pointed to that corner of the house, from where Ford’s voice was now ringing through the ceiling, “AND YOU CAN SNEAK BACK UP WITHOUT BUMPING INTO HIM. JUST DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU LEAVING THE BASEMENT, AND WE’LL BE FINE.”

“I don’t like how much you know about our house.”

Bill pointed to his eye. “REMEMBER HOW HALF THE DECOR IN HERE USED TO BE MY EYES?”

“Yeah, duh. Doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.” She shuddered, and Bill tried not to laugh. At least the memory of his powers still inspired fear… but he didn’t want her knowing how happy that made him.

Mabel gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “I gotta go before he notices I’m not sleeping. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll sneak back down and we’ll sort out the other stuff on my checklist.”

“FAIR ENOUGH. BE SEEING YOU, KID.” He couldn’t resist putting a little extra emphasis on that word, pointing to his eye again with a smug, half-lidded smile. Shooting Star was his ally for now, sure. But she shouldn’t forget where things really stood. He was the one who was really in control here.

“And I’ll use the We Will Rock You knock.”

“UGH, COME ON!” Bill protested. “I’M TELLING YOU, SHAVE-AND-A-HAIRCUT IS THE GO-TO FOR A REASON, IT’S PRACTICAL—“

“See ya later!” She winked and vanished through the door. The lock clicked heavily into place.

Bill glared daggers at the door until the sound of footsteps had faded away. Then he took off his hat and rifled through the lining, taking a reassuring glance at his folded-up notes. And the paper clip fastening them in place. That dumb kid put way too much trust in that lock. Did she really not realize the danger she’d let into her house? Did she really not know what she was dealing with?

His eye was drawn in by a soft gleam from deep within the hat. He brushed some fabric aside and stared at the fragment of his dimension. It caught the dim light in the room and threw it back much brighter, twisted into colors that didn’t exist anymore. It hurt to look at it with this new eye. He let his gaze rest on it longer than he should have.

Then he tore his eye away and shoved the hat back on. No, she definitely didn’t know. The fact he was still here— still alive— was proof enough of that.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Medical blood draw, allusions to abortion, poorly written smut

A/N: Even after figuring out where I wanted to go with it, this chapter feels weak to me. I’m sorry.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You looked over Daryl’s shoulder and squinted at the light before the man moved, wrapping a curiously gentle hand around your bicep to urge you into the building. 

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered quietly. 

The lobby was eerily quiet, no immediate answer to Rick’s calls. You looked around for a moment and then tracked Daryl while he kept a keen eye out for walkers. A small hand squeezed your shoulder, startling you. When you turned, Carol was already pulling you closer to herself and her daughter. They were keeping the women and children in the middle, protecting them. 

You wanted to balk at the idea. You could very well handle yourself if they would give you a weapon but apparently that was still out of the question. 

There was the echo of a gun cocking, all eyes falling on the lone man at the end of the corridor, a rifle in his hands. “Anybody infected?” He asked, warily eyeing each member of the group. 

“One of our group was.” Rick answered solemnly. You could sense the collective shift in the atmosphere, now heavy with grief. “He didn’t make it.”

The stranger didn't hesitate. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“A chance.” Rick countered immediately. 

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.”

“I know.”

There was a moment of contemplation, the gentleman once again scanning over each and every individual. “You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.”

Rick’s relief was evident in the tone of his reply. “We can do that.”

Weapons were lowered, the stranger nodding toward the doors. “You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.” 

There was a sudden burst of movement, bags and people shuffling about. Your own bag was pushed into your hands, Daryl’s eyes meeting yours for a moment before he jerked his chin to indicate you should follow the others into a rather large elevator. It was a squeeze but everyone managed to fit. Even if it did mean you were pressed tightly against the redneck. 

“VI, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here.” 

There were beeps and rattles as the elevator closed. Introductions were being made, information shared but you could only focus on the heat radiating from the man nearly pressed flush against your back. With a careful step, you shifted closer to Carol. 

Everyone filed out once the doors opened but remained behind Dr. Jenner, listening to him explain the facility and what had been happening within the government sectors since the turn. Your thoughts, however, were running circles around the blood test he would be doing. Maybe you could manage to be the last draw and ask him in private to run the extra test if it wasn’t already on his agenda to do so. You could only assume that his priority was to ensure no one was infected. 

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up to find Daryl watching you with a narrowed, cautious gaze. 

“Keep up.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You mock saluted, hurrying by him. He muttered something as you passed that you figured was probably nothing you cared to hear. 

Straight to business, Jenner began drawing blood samples. Chewing on your lip, you began to creep back toward the wall, ensuring everyone was in front of you until—

“The hell ya doin’?” Daryl drawled right beside your ear. You hadn’t realized he was still behind you. Snatching your arm from his grasp, you glared up at him. 

“Just getting in line.” You sneered, side-stepping around him just as Jenner announced he was ready for the next person. Only you and Daryl remained. For the briefest moment, you pondered if his thoughts were aligning with your own, his blue eyes locked on you even as his blood was pulled into the tube. 

You glanced around to find everyone else chattering about the facility and the things they had been informed of, not really concerned with the testing going on. 

Except Rick and Daryl. 

Fuck. 

You plopped down on the chair and presented your arm, wracking your brain for a way of asking for him to run a pregnancy test without alerting Rick to your plight. As you glanced up, you found the man in question saying something to Daryl but the redneck wasn’t listening, his eyes burning into your own. You felt your stomach churn, an uncomfortable tingling sensation prickling at your hands and feet. Your ears began to ring just as Dr. Jenner announced he was done. With a minute nod, you stood, albeit slowly but it wasn’t enough. The world tilted, littered with black dots. The wavering image of the floor was coming up to meet you. 

“None of us have eaten in days. She’s new so she could have gone longer than us without.” 

Consciousness was prodding at the edges of your mind, sounds and voices coming back all at once. As you peeled your eyes open, you waited for the pain from hitting the floor but it never came. In fact, you weren’t on the floor at all. No one was looking down at you. 

“There she is.” Jacqui smiled, patting your hand that was carefully held between her own. You offered the smallest of smiles back, your eyes flickering over to where your knees dangled off of something. 

A hand. 

You turned your head to find none other than Daryl looking down at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Um, thanks.” You mumbled, pressing your hand to your stomach. You still felt nauseous but the dizziness was ebbing away. “You can put me down now.”

“I gotcha.” He replied. His voice was low, almost soft. 

“No, really. I’m good.” You looked around, now extremely uncomfortable with all the concerned stares and hushed voices. “Please.” You added, just low enough for only him to hear. Daryl didn’t say anything but carefully lowered your feet to the floor, his arm remaining across the small of your back while you gathered your bearings. “Thank you.”

He merely hummed. While he was no longer touching you, you couldn’t help but notice that his hand was still hovering. 

“I think some food would be the next logical course of action.” Dr. Jenner gave a tight smile and led the way from the room. 

You followed on unsteady legs, but Daryl stayed close. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

You decided to forego the table, standing at the small counter in the kitchen area to pick at your pasta dish while everyone laughed and celebrated at the table. Even Daryl seemed to be in good spirits, choosing Glenn as the subject of his pestering. Everyone seemed so carefree in that moment, your thoughts wandered to your own family. How your father would have looked smiling brightly at that table and enjoying a good, hot meal in relative safety. 

You brushed away the tear that had escaped and began to poke at your food with your fork. Feeling eyes on you, a glance showed Daryl watching you with a bottle just in front of his lips. Heat began to burn in your cheeks and you looked away, forcing yourself to take a bite that you didn’t even really want, hungry as you were. When you dared to look again, he was smiling and partaking in the toasts to Jenner. 

“Here’s to you, doc. Booyah!” He shouted before taking a generous swig straight from the bottle. Glasses clinked and similar praises were given. You raised your water glass when the quiet doctor’s eyes drifted over to you. 

You could only hope that from where you stood, no one noticed you weren’t drinking. You could always blame it on the nausea but that might only fuel more suspicion. Lucky for you, Shane decided to steer the mood into the opposite direction and all celebrations died down quickly. 

The meal was finished in relative silence. Even Daryl was leaned back against the counter with the bottle still in his hand, his expression grim. 

Jenner showed everyone to the rest of the living area. Some rooms had beds while others had couches. There were two words, though, that seemed to halt everyone in their tracks: hot water. It was almost comical to watch the bodies scatter but you remained still, letting them go until only you remained in the hall. You could shower later. You needed a moment alone with the doctor. 

You found him at one of the control panels, a centrifuge with tubes of blood sitting inside. You were wringing your hands as you approached, steps so quiet that he didn’t seem to notice you. Now that you had the opportunity to speak with him, you were petrified. He could say one word that would change your life forever. 

“Hi, Dr. Jenner.”

The man was obviously startled, spinning in the chair to regard you with wide eyes. “Oh! Y/N, right?” You nodded, feeling your legs begin to tremble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. A little. I guess.” You stumbled over words, twisting one hand within the other until it hurt. “That’s why—why I’m here, actually.”

“I thought as much.” He sighed, laying down his pen on a notepad with more care than necessary. 

You felt your stomach sink. “You—did?” He nodded, expression almost sympathetic. “If you know why I’m here, then that means—” Your knees all but buckled, hands steadying yourself against the console before the doctor stood and offered his chair. 

“I take it this wasn’t planned.” You shook your head, gaze as vacant as your mind felt in that moment. Dr. Jenner pulled up another chair and sat down in front of you. “May I ask, the father, is he alive?” You nodded absently. “Will you tell him?”

That gave you pause, cogs and wheels turning in overdrive  to make your brain function. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s my opinion,” Jenner tapped on the desk as if just trying to do anything other than focus too hard on the conversation, “these are the end times. It goes without saying that there are no blessings anymore. Nothing real to hope for anymore.” Words were failing you as you struggled to entertain his thoughts. “I can help you.”

You stopped breathing. Was he suggesting—No. No, you couldn’t possibly make a decision of that magnitude without Daryl. Regardless of how it came to be, the baby was just as much his as it was yours. He had to know. “I, um—thank you, Dr. Jenner. Really.” You stood, tripping over the chair when you stepped back. Jenner did rise from his seat to ensure you didn’t fall but promptly returned once you were able to remain upright. “I just—he has to know. I have to tell him.” You blurted another ‘thank you’ as you jogged from the room, miraculously making it to the final empty room before you allowed yourself to break down. 

Sliding down the wall, you let one hand rest on your stomach, now certain there was a little life there. The halls were quiet; anyone could hear. Your other hand covered your mouth, stifling your harsh sobs. 

You were pregnant. 

You were scared. 

You wanted your father. His advice, his embrace. You would have even taken his scolding just to have him there. What a cruel twist of fate, losing your family only to be gifted with a new one. 

And then there was Daryl. Rude, angry, impulsive. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking of babies, that was for sure. 

You needed to get yourself together, figure out what to do next. Deep breath through the nose, count to five. Out through the mouth, count to five. You continued, pushing yourself to your feet so you could start pacing the room. 

You knew you had to tell Daryl. But when? If you waited, anything could happen. You could be injured or you could lose the baby. Fuck, or both. If he didn’t know and found out that way, he’d be furious. You hadn’t experienced the full scope of his anger and truly hoped not to, especially when it came to anything regarding the baby. 

You couldn’t wait. You had to tell him. 

“Like a bandaid. Just rip it off.” You told yourself when you opened the door and stepped into the hall. Quickly, you realized that you didn’t know what room he was in. “Fuck.”

“Wha’re ya doin’?” 

Of course. You looked over your shoulder first, finding him leaning against the wall outside an open door. “Looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

“Can we talk?” The smell of alcohol wafted into your nostrils within several feet of him. Distantly, you wondered if it was too early for your pregnancy to be responsible. His eyes drifted down your body and back up before he flattened against the wall to let you by. 

Daryl had chosen one of the rooms with a couch, leaving you instantly feeling guilty for having a bed in your own. You didn’t choose the room, it just happened to be the only one open when you came back from meeting with Jenner. Maybe you could offer it to him to smooth things over after you had talked. 

“Look, Daryl—” You spun to find him standing mere inches away, that unreadable expression firmly in place. “First of all, are you drunk?” You rubbed your lips together before pulling the bottom one between your teeth. You weren’t doing this if he was drunk.

“Nah. Take more than wine for that.”

Your eyes flitted over to the bottle of whiskey on the end table. “You mean, like that?” You pointed, raising an eyebrow when he actually turned to look. 

“Ain’t had any.” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “Yet. Whaddaya need?”

“Daryl, I went to—well, when I—” The food from earlier began threatening to make a reappearance, worsening as his eyes continued to narrow. “I need to sit down.” The hard look faded and gave way to concern, something you hadn’t seen him openly convey. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his hand on your back, urging you toward the couch. “I’m sorry.” Like a bandaid. Like a bandaid. Your brain chanted at you, even as you doubled over to put your head on your knees. 

“Jesus, woman. It ain’t that big’a deal.” His flippant tone made you yearn to smack him upside the head with one of the couch’s cushions until you sat up with something particularly snarky on the tip of your tongue, only to be met with him unbuckling his belt. Your mouth agape, you did little more than blink at him. “Finally,” he drawled, leaning down to cage you against the back of the couch with an arm on either side, “didn’t think ya’d ever shut up.”

You should have stopped him. You knew that. But the moment his mouth was on yours, you were a lost cause. All you could focus on was the warmth beneath your hands. Daryl ran hot, never failing to leave your blood boiling beneath your skin. In a world gone cold with death, it was a relief to feel something so alive. 

“Saw ya in the truck.” He all but purred, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw. “Would’a handled it for ya if ya’d asked.” He used his knee to force your legs apart, leaving it pressed into the couch just in front of your center. 

“Didn’t—wanna do this again.” You breathed, arching up with your head back to grant him access to the full expanse of your throat. 

“Yeah, ya did.” Daryl grinned against your flesh, his warm breath causing you to shiver. “S’a itch ya need scratched, same as me.”

Goddamnit, he was right. At first, it was all about the pleasure. The man excelled at making you feel good. Soon enough, it had gone beyond that. It was a connection with another person. You’d begun to crave being touched, being wanted. You lusted for the rush of making him feel good. You could die at any given moment and had wanted to live while you could. 

You needed to tell him about the baby—and you would—but first, you needed this. You could revel in the feel of him without the looming dangers of being vulnerable in the outside world. 

Your hand splayed open against his chest, pushing him back enough to enable you to pull your shirt over your head. Your slender fingers began undoing the button of your jeans while his mouth danced across the newly exposed skin. Lifting your hips, you slid down your pants and used your feet to rid yourself of them completely before you desperately pushed his trousers down his legs. 

It was the first time you’d seen so much of his bare skin, wondering if he’d finally allow you to touch him without the barrier of clothing. “I want you.” The admission left your mouth in a breathless plea. Daryl kicked his pants away from his feet, never ceasing his onslaught against the swell of your breasts above your bra. 

“Yeah?” He teased while a large hand slid across your ribs and around to your back, skilled fingers snapping open the clasp of your bra. You shed the article without care and tossed it. His mouth and hands were on you instantly. Lips and tongue taunted one nipple while he palmed your other breast. The calloused skin over your sensitive peak had you arching into him, breathy moans escaping your parted lips with abandon. “Thought I’s a asshole?”

You whimpered when you felt the light graze of his teeth. “You’re still an asshole.” Knowledgeable fingers slid your panties aside to massage your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “But I still want you to fuck me. Like now.” Pushing him away, you rose to your feet and shed your last article of clothing, nearly groaning when he allowed you to push his underwear down his legs. He was kicking them aside when you pulled up on the bottom of his shirt. 

“No!” He barked, batting your hand away. You reeled back, caught off guard in the moment, eyes wide. While his expression was tense, shame and sadness overflowed from that beautiful blue. 

“Okay.” You whispered, stepping hesitantly back into his space. He flinched when you placed your hands on his sides, on top of his shirt. There was a story there, a deep wound that he wasn’t going to reveal anytime soon. It wasn’t a subject to be pushed right then. Your mouth hovered in front of his, the wine on his breath tempting you to slowly dip your tongue between his lips. It passed across his own and withdrew, enough to spur him onward. 

He kissed you hard, a dance of tongues and teeth. He was stepping backward while you walked him until the backs of his legs hit the couch. He fell onto it almost clumsily but his hands found your hips with ease as you climbed onto his lap. 

Your slick coated his cock with a drag of your hips, pulling a moan from him that you eagerly swallowed. “I fucking hate this.” You growled, repeating the action. 

“Think your pussy says somethin’ diff’rent.” He nipped at your bottom lip, his large hands roaming your torso, up up up to squeeze your breasts. You hissed at the hint of pain, grinding your hips down harder. “Grab a rubber from my bag.”

“Pull out.” You dismissed him quickly. If he objected, he didn’t voice it. What he did do was slide a hand down to your mound to circle your swollen clit with his thumb. “Damn you.” You tugged on his hair, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. Sliding your hips forward while lifting yourself slightly, the tip of him caught your entrance. Embarrassingly aroused, you were able to slide right down until your ass met his thighs. “Fuck, why does that have to feel so good?” The perfect stretch of accommodation had your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Cause s’mine, remember?” Daryl growled, pushing his hips up with a satisfied hiss. You did remember. That tight feeling in your chest stirred to life, but you shoved it down, rolling your body over him to allow pleasure to swallow you. You couldn’t think about his words, the deeper meaning that you subconsciously wished they held. You couldn’t think of the baby inside you that he didn’t know about yet. 

You shook your head and threw it back, riding him in earnest. Each bounce resulted in a slap of slick skin on skin, his cock hitting every nerve inside of you that had your toes curling within moments. When you looked at him, he was watching you with dark eyes, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet beyond the occasional grunt. His hands had traveled back to your hips to help lift and lower you, successfully spearing you onto him. 

Your own hands slid down his clothed chest before you leaned back and braced yourself on his thighs. The new feel of his skin had the pleasure knot twisting hard in your belly. 

“Goddamn.” You heard him growl, one hand abandoning your waist to splay open between your breasts. “Slow down, woman.” 

But you didn’t. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the good you were feeling. Your chest was growing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. With strangled moans and gasps that felt futile, you leaned forward and fisted your hands in his shirt. Your eager bounces melted into a desperate grind against him. 

You just wanted to feel good. 

“Y/N, stop!”

And you did. You fell forward and all but wailed against his chest, any pleasurable sensation dissipating entirely. Everything came crashing down all at once, leaving you cold and scared and alone, even with Daryl still very much inside of you. Your sobs continued, any thought of moving quickly dismissed. 

“I’m—sorry.” You finally managed through the tears, your voice small to even your own ears. Daryl had yet to move and now, you were terrified to, fearing the look he was sure to be sporting. Still, there was only so long you could remain that way. When your sobs quieted to hiccups, you began to pull away from him only for his arm to encircle your back. 

Daryl was careful and quiet when he slipped out of you, keeping you pressed against him even as he rose slightly. He caught you beneath your legs to keep you from falling when he twisted to lay you across the couch. You stayed as he had placed you, watching him grab up his pack and head into the bathroom without a word. The shower turned on a moment later. 

You waited a moment more and then sat up, testing your legs before starting to gather up your clothing. You had really fucked this up, once again letting carnal desires outweigh any form of logic. How could you even face him after that, let alone tell him you were pregnant? 

“Damnit.” You whispered, finishing up getting dressed before you reached for the doorknob. You hesitated, taking a step toward the bathroom before ultimately turning around and leaving the room. 

[bobacupcake]

Can you do one about the Sea of Thieves water?

OK

so . there was a biiig long talk about this at siggraph one year!! you can watch that here if you'd like . in the time between me getting this ask and me fully recreating the water, acerola also released a great video about it . the biiig underlying thing they do and the reason why it looks so good is they are making a Really Detailed Ocean Mesh in realtime using something called an FFT (fast fourier transform) to simulate hundreds of thousands of waves, based on a paper by TESSENDORF

WHAT IS AN FFT - we'll get to that. first we have to talk about the DFT - the discreet fourier transform. let's say you have a SOUND. it is a c chord - a C, an E, and a G, being played at the same time. all sounds are waves!!! so when you play multiple sounds at the same time, those waves combine!!! like here: the top is all 3 notes playing together, so they form the waveform at the bottom!!

now if someone handed you the bottom wave, could you figure out each individual note that was being played? how about if someone handed you a wave of One Hundred Notes. you would think it would be very hard. and well, it would be, if not for the Discreet Fourier Transform.

essentially, there is a way to take a bunch of points on a waveform comprised of a bunch of different waves, add them all together, do some messed up stuff with imaginary numbers, that will spit back out at you what individual waves are present. i made a little test program at the start of all this: the left are the waves i am putting into my Big Waveform, the top right is what that ends up looking like, and all the little rainbow points on it are being sampled to spit out the graph at the bottom right: it shows which frequency bands the DFT is finding (here it is animated)

this has enormous use cases in anything that deals with audio and image processing, and also,

THE OCEAN

tessendorf is basically like, hey, People Who Are Good At The Ocean say that a buuuunch of sine waves do a pretty good job of approximating what it looks like. and by a bunch they mean like, hundreds of thousands to millions. oh no.... if only there was a way we could easily deal with millions of sine waves..........

well GREAT news. not only can you do the DFT in one direction, but you can also do it in REVERSE. if you were to be given the frequency graph of a noise for example, you could use an INVERSE DFT to calculate what the combined wave graph looks like at any given time. so if you were to have say, the frequency graph of an oceaaaan, for example, you could calculate what the Ocean wave looks like at any given time. and lucky for us, it works in two dimensions. and thats the foundation of the simulation !!!!!

BUT WAIT

as incredible as the DFT is, it doesn't scale very well. the more times you have to do it, the slower it gets, exponentially, and we are working with potentially millions of sine waves here

THE FAST FOURIER TRANSFORM here we are . the fast fourier transform is a way of doing the discreet fourier transform, except, well, fast. i am Not going to explain the intricacies of it because its very complex, but if you want to learn more there are a ton of good 30 minute long videos on youtube about it . but essentially, due to the nature of sine waves repeating, you can borrow values as you go, and make the calculation Much faster (from exponential growth to logarithmic growth which is much much slower, and scales very well at higher numbers). it's, complicated, but the important part is it's so much faster and the diagram kind of looks like the shadow the hedgehog story plot

so if we use the inverse FFT on a graph of a rough estimate of what frequency of waves in the ocean (called a spectrum, basically tells us things like how many small waves, how many big waves, how different waves follow the wind direction. sea of thieves uses one called the phillips spectrum but there are better ones out there!!) now we have our waves !!!!!!! we can also use another inverse FFT to get the normals of the waves, and horizontal displacement of the waves (sharpening peaks and broadening valleys) through some derivatives . yayy calculus

OK MATH IS OVER. WE HAVE OUR WAVES!!! they are solid pink and look like pepto bismol. WHAT NOW

i cheated a bit here they look better than not being shaded because i am using the normals to reflect a CUBEMAP to make it look shiny. i think sea of thieves does this too but they didnt mention it in their talk. they did mention a FEW THINGS THEY DID THOUGH

FIRST OFF - SUBSURFACE SCATTERING. this is where the sun pokes through since water is translucent. SSS IS REALLY EXPENSIVE !!!!!! so they just faked it. do you remember the wave sharpening displacement i mentioned earlier? they just take the value where the waves are being sharpened and this will pretty naturally show off the areas that should have subsurface scattering (the sides of waves). they make it shine through any time you are looking towards the sun. they also add a bit of specular ! sss here is that nice blue color, and specular is the shiny bits coming off the sun. the rest of the lighting is the cubemap i mentioned earlier, i dont know if thats what they use but it looks nice !!!!!

then the other big thing that they do is the FOAM !! sorry i lied. there's more math. last one. you remember the wave sharpening displacement i Just mentioned. well they used that to find something called the JACOBIAN and well im not even going to begin to try and explain what it means but functionally what it does, is when the jacobian is NEGATIVE it means waves are clipping into eachother. and that means we should draw some foam!!! we can also blur and fade out the foam texture over time and continuously write to it to give it some movement, and bias this value a bit to make more or less foam. they do both of these!!!

YAYYYYY !! OK !! THAT'S SEA OF THIEVES WATER!!!!! THANKS FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME. you can see my journey here if you would like to i have tagged it all oceanquest2023

thank you everyone for joining me :) i had fun

[vaspider]

Hey Spider, hope you're doing well! I've got kind of a weird question but I was hoping you and your followers might be able to offer some insight. I have encountered a relatively high number of transmascs who are converting or have converted to Judaism. As in, half of the converts I've met (and all of the ones who are currently under 60) are transmasc. Now, my sample is probably not representative, but it did make me wonder: is there a particular reason why transmasc people would be more drawn to Judaism? Or is this just sampling bias due to my being a transmasc Jew myself?

I know a lot of trans Jews full stop. I think a lot of us are attracted initially to Judaism bc most of the American movements - Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative - are explicitly trans-affirming and have been for a long time. (Reform has been trans-affirming for so long that at the time the responsa was issued about it, the phrasing used was "transsexual and transgender" because at the time, transsexual meant what we would now refer to as a binary trans person* and transgender was used for what we would now call "everybody except for binary trans people.")

I also think that trans people are used to wrestling with difficult concepts - I mean, figuring out your gender is hard stuff - and honestly after spending decades shaking my gender until it made sense, Torah study felt like second nature.

But really, I think it's probably more than a little bit confirmation bias and that trans Jews find trans Jews.

[cyrenescreams]

One thing fannon Batfam fanfics don’t include enough in my opinion is Tim absolutely milking the shit out of the titans tower incident, I mean he’s not as traumatized about it as fandom likes to pretend sometimes so let him get the younger sibling experience out of it. Like one time several years ago when I was much younger and learning to ride a bike my brother who is only slightly older and slightly better at biking than me ran into me and made me fall off said bike and sprain my wrist and I still use that to get out of stuff to this day. Like they should just be siblings about it. Imagine

Bruce, getting an alert in the Batcave: Condiment King is attacking the financial district. Whose turn is it?

assorted Batkids minus Tim, looking at a clearly homemade chart hung on the cave wall with each of their names listed in glitter pen and a magnet stuck on Tim’s name: Tim’s!

Tim: hey Jason-

Jason: no fucking way

Tim, in the fakest sad voice ever: remember that time you tried to kill me in titans tower with the shittiest homemade robin costume. Well this is how you make up for it

Jason, visibly caving: do you know how hard it is to get mustard out of this leather jacket? Who’s gonna pay my dry cleaning bill? You?

or

Oracle: someone needs to go help Robin. He’s taking down a drug shipment but there are more guys than he can handle and he’s mad about it.

Jason, opening his mouth to say ‘not it’:

Tim, faster: hey Hood. Remember that time you tried to kill me? This is your chance to be better for Robin by making sure you or no one else kills him.

Jason: can you shut up about the murder thing! Oh my god fine I’ll go.

or

Alfred, visibly mad staring at the result of yet another family dinner that ended in a food fight: Master Tim you will be helping with the dishes

Tim, whose fault it definitely is: you know I think it’s kind of Jason’s fault. I mean family dinners have just been so hard since he slit my throat.

Jason: I wish I finished the job. Fine I’ll help but your still doing some fucking work

Tim: I’ll take it.

or

Jason, going down to the Batcave to check on a test sample, a grilled cheese he grilled himself in hand:

Tim, who suddenly remembered he forgot lunch and damn is that grilled cheese looking good: hey remember that time-

Jason, throwing the plate with the grilled cheese on it at Tim’s head hoping it will hit him and being very disappointed when Tim catches it: Fine! Fucking fine! Have my damn lunch! Is that what you what? Asshole.

Tim, watching Jason storm off while eating the sandwich: yeah kind of.

[r4inersslut]

Reiner x Reader x Porco

tw: mentions of losing a parent.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

It had been a long day in the nation of marley. running a fruit stand wasn’t even close to one of the hardest thing that you could ever do, obviously. but, I would admit that was tiring staying out in the heat for as long as I did, maybe it would cool down in a few days. I was packing my shop up, as it was near the end of the day, when I hear the familiar voice of a mischievous young girl call out to me.

“____, you really gonna leave already without giving us a free sample?!?” I could already tell who it was. I turn around with a smile on my face and there I saw my favorite group of kids, gaby, looking all excited whilst, falco, zophia and udo stood behind her, like it was all her idea and she was the mastermind. which, I knew she usually was.

“well, you see gaby, I could.. but you guys forget that the point of running a market is…. to make money..”

“can’t do that if you little weasels come and ask for free stuff all of the time.” I laugh, quickly making my way towards gaby, putting her in a headlock. I proceeded to give her a few hard sisterly nudges on her head. “plus, I thought samples were one time things only.. dork.” I add my sarcastic remark “hey!!!” she attempts to squirm out of my grasp, she was a strong little thing, but she just couldn’t find a way out. I was very close with all of them ever since reiner went all no contact on us.. well I’d like to believe it’s “us” and not just me, but id just be delusional. he had always been away for long periods at a time, but even then he would try to stop by and at least try to have lunch, my mom cooked for him whenever he got back, she was very upset that he just stopped coming over. I would hear gaby talking to everybody that she knew about him every so often, I would ask how he’s doing or what he was up to, she would just say he was doing fine. eventually I had stopped asking a long time ago and ended up keeping it that way, they were cousins.. they were supposed to talk, I really had no place to ask or say anything. but, It still just made no sense to me.. if he’d been around why hadn’t he at least stopped by to see me at least one time, could you possibly be that busy? once I had let go of gaby, I started to talk. “I’m just teasing you guys..! here, you little things need to eat anyway, and some good stuff at that.”

“___, you know you don’t have to, right?” falco adds, “falco, stop being such a baby.” gaby grumpily adds while giving him a somewhat gentle shove. falco was just nice and careful, but that didn’t mean he was a baby. “you guys, if I was really struggling I would have stood firm on my decision.” I headed back behind my stand and start chopping a pineapple. “besides, I bet you guys have never had this before, I just got an import from somewhere in the south, I haven’t had it in years. maybe you guys might like it.” zophia glances at it, she quietly starts to speak, “so.. spiky..” udo nods his head along with her statement. “what is it??” falco questions. “somewhere in the south??” gaby wondered. “a pineapple.” I replied

“pineapple?!? those look nothing like apples.” udo adds. I started to laugh a bit. “well, take it up with the person that named it.” I shrug “so lame.” gaby had to add her two cents into the conversation. as I finished up cutting the edges of the pineapple to give them, I couldn’t help but listen to them talk. “pineapple is so confusing, I would have named it spikefruit or something.” gaby shakes her head. “yeah sounds cooler.” udo nods, I end up laughing to myself a bit and hand them all their pieces. I calmly wait for their reactions. I already had one, plenty actually. I’ve had many fruits since being a vendor, but pineapple is by far one of my favorites, my mind starts to go blank for some reason.

- - - - -

“reiner, get back here!!!” I yell as I start chasing my friend reiner. we had been close for years, but he was always just so sneaky. “you’re gonna have to catch up to me.” he yells back with a smile, while carrying one of the fruits from my mother’s shop. I start to gain a little speed from being so frustrated that he decided to just take off like that. my mom left me to watch over the shop for awhile, but reiner decided that he wanted to run off and take something with him, this is why I told him to run back home, I was fine and didn’t need any help because he was no help at times. she would most likely get mad at me if she found out that someone was sneaking around and stealing her produce, especially if it was one that she rarely gets imported, even worse if all of her stuff was gone by the time I got back. I was thinking about it, we still needed the money, and reiner dipping off and taking things wouldn’t help that at all. reiner runs for as long as he could, until he stopped on a long stone staircase, plopping down on the ground with the fruit in his hands. I catch up to him up the stairs, but my breathing is rapid. I had to catch my breath before I spoke. “give.. that… back..” I tried to tell him, I had to say each word slowly. I try reaching out and grabbing it from his hands, but he dodged me swiftly every single time “come on… (your mom’s name) wouldn’t mind.. besides, she loves me..” He raises his eyebrows up and down in a cocky manner, trying to swoon me into letting have it, this bastard.. even if I wanted I still wouldn’t be able to get it from him anyway. I look at him, not pleased in the slightest maybe he was right.. my mom wouldn’t mind, she was always the nice lady that let people try her stuff for free, and she loved reiner. I start to become more at ease. “fine..”

“what is this thing anyway..??” he stares at me all confused. “It’s a pineapple..”

“pineapple? never heard of it before.. it’s very spiky though, how do you even eat it?” he adds, while looking all around at it. I just laugh, this idiot goes and steals something.. and he doesn’t even know what it is. I knew it wasn’t the most pleasing to look at. “you don’t eat it like that, you have to cut it open.. in the inside its yellow, and if you get a good one, they taste really really sweet” I pull out my pocket knife that my mom gave me. “but, in the middle it’s kind of hard, so you have to eat around it, unless you’re one of the people that like it.” I take it from him and attempt to slice it open.

“how would you know..?” he bluntly replies, but then catches himself, remembering that my mother literally owned a fruit shop. “oh.. never mind.” he laughs and I start to laugh along with him. I ended up cutting it open and giving him a slice, waiting for his reaction. his face lit up when he bit into it and tasted it for the first time. knowing that he liked it as much as I did made me happy, maybe it was worth it after all. “where does your mom even get these??!! you need to tell her to get more.” he said, chewing with his mouth open as he obviously liked it, maybe too much. “like, all the time..” he adds.

“I don’t know where, she said she gets them from somewhere in the south” I laughed at him, but noticed that he was being improper.

“and close your mouth, finish saying what you want when you’re done eating.” I shake my head as I look at him.

“sorry.” he says, but food was still in his mouth.

“you’re doing it again reiner!”. “sorry!!!” he laughs. I lightly hit him in the shoulder a couple of times in a playful manner. “ow..ow!!” he gets up and runs in circles away from me. “get over here!!” we both laugh as we chased each other around. later, reiner soon went on to devour the whole thing.

—————

“____, you okay? you’ve been staring over there with a strange face for awhile.” falco comes over and taps me lightly a few times. “yeah! I’m.. just fine!” I shake my head and exclaim really enthusiastically, almost too enthusiastic that it was kind of off. “I was just thinking about things I have to do later.” I laugh. falco looks at me and nods suspiciously, with a worried smile. I start to get annoyed that I even got reminded of him, maybe it would be best if I had just went on with life like I had never met him at all, but it was going to be hard. “well, ____! that was one of the most delicious things that I have ever had!! you should get more of those spikefruit things” gaby exclaims.

“thank you.” zophia calmly says.

“anytime guys..” I smiled. they ended up thanking me again and again, saying their goodbyes and then leaving. I had to continue packing up my shop..

for the next few days I continue what I always did, every day. sold fruit for hours, went about my life, thinking maybe I should just try to do something else. but.. I was stuck thinking about my mom, this was her shop and this is what she was passionate about, after all. she would have wanted me to keep it and continue. besides, I’ve been here ever since I could remember. I shake my head, and laugh to myself for thinking something so dumb.. why would I ever get rid of it? plus I barely have enough money to keep going about life anyway. I need it.

as I close down my shop, I put the remaining items in a cloth bag that my mom had made for me awhile back, and started walking back to my house. the walk took a few good long minutes, but I had ended up at my front door sooner than I expected. I attempted to get they house key out of my pocket, but ended up dropping a few things from out of the bag when I leaned over, I ignored it and continued to open my door, I sat the bag down inside near the door and turned back around to get on my knees trying to pick up the things that had fallen. “need some help?” I heard the deep voice of a man call out from a few feet away. I didn’t recognize who it was, nor did I ever bother looking up to see, there were plenty of nice people around where I lived, all willing to help with anything. I just continued picking the fruits up. “It’s okay don’t worry about it.. I’m fine, thank you sir.” the man laughed as he approached even closer. “sir?” he stopped. “that really does sound so weird coming from you..” as soon as he said that, I looked up and saw someone that I didn’t think I would ever see.

reiner, all professional.. looking down at me.. I was hesitant to even say anything, I just had this confused look on my face, almost as if I had seen a titan. “what..? did I do something?”. he asked, upon seeing me. It kind of made me angry seeing him all nonchalant and kiddish about everything like I hadn’t seen him for awhile.. over a year.. maybe even two, I started to think perhaps awhile would be an understatement itself. I start to speak up. “did you do something??” I scoff, I should’ve just went inside then and there, but it didn’t. “I… just wanted to see how you and (mom’s name) were doing.. it’s been a while, I thought maybe you’d be happy to see me.” his tone of voice started to change, he rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly.. I rolled my eyes, continuing what I was doing. treating him as if he were any other ordinary person stopping by, but I knew that he wasn’t. I opened my door and proceeded to put the remainder of the fruits in the bag that I sat near the door a few moments ago. then afterwards I turn my attention back to him. “did you need anything else?” I look at him with a blank expression, trying to be as calm as possible. he thinks about what to say for a bit, and then starts to talk “look, I get it. I’m sorry.. I am. I should have stopped by sooner.. but come on, you shouldn’t be so abrupt..”

“huh..? no, you don’t get it.. It’s been so long that I forgot what you even sounded like, is that normal to you reiner!?” my voice started to raise, I basically started to snap.

“___…” he tries to call out to me by my name but I just ignore it. my eyes started to water, but I just stood there and hoped that it wasn’t noticeable. “It’s been so long that I never even got to tell you that she got sick and passed away..” I said, my voice cracking as I tried to speak. “months ago..” I added

“now I just do things alone.” I shrugged.

reiner looked honestly appalled to hear what I had just said. almost like he was in disbelief that things had even happened like that, but he knew what he did. maybe he thought time flew by and it hadn’t actually been that long. maybe that’s why he approached me the way he did. I was so lonely after my mom had passed, I had nobody to talk to, and the only person that I wanted to talk to, well, the only person I was ever close to was never there.. “___, I.. just..” reiner tried to speak but i just wouldn’t let him “i appreciate you stopping by. but, it would’ve been best if you just.. didn’t...”, my voice was almost emotionless, I didn’t even feel like crying anymore.

“___.. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t ever stop by.. I really do feel horrible, I didn’t know.... I’m sorry!! and if i did i would have a long time ago-!” he sounded angry with himself, but I didn’t really pay any attention to it, that’s how he should feel. I cut him off. “of course you didn’t know.” I angrily reply, “because you never came..” I soon just sigh and laugh, because that’s honestly all I could do. “you know what.. just forget it reiner. forget you were even here, everything. just forget about it..” I shake my head and end up closing the door in his face, I saw him try to reach his hand out before I did it, but I didn’t care. I felt him linger in front of the door for a few long moments until he decided to accept whatever happened and walked away.. good, I didn’t ever want to see him again anyway. especially after what he did, it was so messed up. I went to sleep and tried to forget about what happened, I was trying to forget before, but now it would be even harder. I thought, maybe I was being too harsh… maybe it hadn’t been as long as I thought it was, he had nothing but good intentions or so he thought. but then I thought about it again... remembering what I had to go through, having to listen to my mom asking about what happened to reiner and why he never stopped by anymore, even when she was sick, telling her that I didn’t know, never did, and having to go on with life without anyone to at least talk to about things made regret ever thinking I was being too harsh. but he’s his own person after all. he had other things and people to worry about, he always did.

i get up from bed, and since it was morning I thought maybe I’d take a shower and put a dress on to take a stroll around before work. try and eat near the sea and get some fresh air, since that was where I went when it was time to pick up my fruits, I had always liked looking out there into the ocean. I started walking past the markets, and then to the dock, seeing everyone scattered around..working. I go to the very edge where I sat down and let my legs hang off of the small ledge, I brought myself something to eat in a little bag. I look out into the water, it was so pretty. I always thought we were extremely privileged to even be able to live next to something so beautiful, my mom would take me here sometimes. I start eating without a care in the world. “hey!” I hear someone shout out. I thought I already knew who it was, so I just start packing up, maybe it was one of the workers telling me to move for an oncoming ship. “yeah, I uh.. I’m really sorry, I just wanted to see it for a few minutes.. I’ll leave.” I had finished putting everything in my bag, getting up to make make my way towards the entrance of where I came from. “are you always this absent minded?.” the mystery guy laughs. “I don’t work here, just wanted to say I thought you looked lonely, plus it might be really dangerous if you fall in.” he smiled “well, i don’t mind, i guess its worth the risk. it’s peaceful..” I shrugged, looking at him.. what did he even want and who was he? “crazy one aren’t you? but i don’t think its peaceful if you’re always alone, or if you end up dying because you can’t swim..” he laughs at me yet again. I looked at him all confused. “great… I’m so pathetic that I make people I don’t even know feel bad for me, huh?” I start to mumble to myself, I guess it happened to be loud enough for him to hear me. I roll my eyes and then storm off. “ugh.” what was his deal? he looked like he got caught off guard “hey! what? that’s not-..” he tried to yell from behind me, I just shut everything out.

“wait, come back!” he tries to catch up with me, what is this guys deal? I don’t even know him, and I knew he was just inches away. “and how do you even know if I’m always alone or not?!? you weirdo!” I turn around as I swat my bag at him with all of my food still in there. I end up hitting him a couple of times, some of the food ended up falling out as well.. what a creep. “ow!” he tries to block wherever the bag landed with his arms and steps away. “look, this might sound weird but I’m not a stalker alright?!?” he tries to explain “I just see you around.. you run that one fruit shop right?” I soon remembered that I wasn’t invisible, and that people remembered my face. I calmed down, and soon started to feel empathetic, but still.. why was he watching me? “yeah.. I do run it.. but, what’s it to you? just leave me alone.” I continue walking, ever since everything happened with my life I’ve just been different. I didn’t even like talking to people anymore, let alone someone who was basically making fun of me. “look I apologize okay?! I didn’t mean to make you feel any sort of way, that was never my intention..” he exhaled as he continued talking afterwards “this was a bad first introduction, I know..” I end up stopping and looking back at him.

“and I do feel bad.. I really shouldn’t have made that assumption about you..” I just stare at him for a few seconds before giving a small nod.. “look, It’s fine.. have a good day sir, alright?” i reply, giving a little smile, before walking away and sighing to myself. If what I said before wasn’t indication that I just wanted to be left alone, that definitely was. I keep on my way, thinking maybe I should have cussed him out, and let people stop walking all over me for once, or if I should have just let him speak and say what he wanted to say.

whatever, at least he said sorry I guess.

I get back home, regretting that I ever went outside. no wonder I always stay in when I can. I end up taking another shower since I was out in the sun. soon I had to set up my shop, I just thought it would be a nice experience to eat and get some fresh air, but I don’t think I’ll ever do that again.

I sat at my shop and ended up selling to a decent amount of people. the man who owned the market, joseph came by. “___, you’re short on payments.. I’ll need that by the end of tomorrow.. got it?” he said in a disapproving tone, but he wasn’t too demanding. “really?? I.. I thought I was good for the next few days.” I couldn’t help but bury my face in my hands in sheer disappointment… “I’m sorry, I wish it said otherwise on my papers. you’re a good kid ___, and I’m really sorry about what happened, but I’m gonna need it by tomorrow when the market closes up.” he looks at me all sympathetically before eventually walking away while I was too caught up thinking about what to do. I just wanted to scream. I didn’t think I had enough to even cover what I owed, since I didn’t know how much I owed. I start to get frustrated that I didn’t think to ask. but, I was in public and didn’t want any attention on me if I just kicked something or yelled as loud as i could. I just sink down in my chair, waiting for the next person who wanted to buy anything. hours go by, soon I managed to rack up a good dozen gold coins or so maybe I’ll be on the right track if I sell more and more every day.. but I then realized that he said he needed it by tomorrow. I bang my head on the wooden pillar of my stand. I wanted to continue selling here, but I wouldn’t have any choice in the end if I can’t keep up with my payments, I can barely afford to keep my shop, how will I even be able to eat? or even import stuff to sell? “I wouldn’t recommend doing that, you’ll hurt yourself.” I hear someone call out. I jolt my head over to the voice and immediately sigh.. “you again?” I start to get annoyed. why did he decide to show up, I would have been fine without seeing him ever again.

“yeah, me. I.. just wanted to talk to you.”

“what could we possibly talk about?”

“I just wanted to say sorry again, I mean it.. I still feel bad for what I said, I was out of line.”

“I already said it was fine, I don’t need another apology from you, you’re just wasting your own time and energy.” I turn my back and start organizing my shop.

“I just didn’t know how to talk to you..” he stood there for a few long moments before he finally gained the courage to admit what he had been holding back. when he had said that, I ended up turning around and looking at him with a blank expression, “it’s easy, just don’t. I’m not anyone special.” I shrug. maybe it was me, I act so nonchalant about everything, no wonder I was always doing things by myself. “I wouldn’t speak about yourself like that either, it’s not good for you” I was expecting this guy to walk away, but he just didn’t.. why did he even care..?

“I realize I never told you my name..” he nervously chuckled. “it’s porco.. but sometimes people just call me by my last name, galliard..” he shrugs. I stare at him before nodding. “okay galliard, did you need anything?” I kept up with the whole uninterested thing.

“maybe your name too, would be nice.”

“___.” I bluntly said before I continued what i was doing.

“you’re so straightforward..” he shook his head. “that’s fine, I know someone that’s almost exactly like you, ___..” he carried on. “did you need any help?” he went on with trying to talk to me, almost like he saw right through me. “I’m fine, just go do your own thing.” I replied back to him.

“that’s kind of the thing.. I have some free time, and I don’t mind helping you if you need it.”

“besides, that’s the least I could do.” he looks down at you, doing whatever you were doing, attempting to be convincing. I stood there for awhile until I made up my mind. “look, do whatever you want.. just be quiet okay?” I finally say. “great, thank you! what do you want me to do?”

what a weird one...

“well I wanted you to leave me alone, but I guess you can organize these if you want.” I accidentally let out a small laugh as I hand him a basket of produce..

“ha! I guess you’re not so mean after all..” he smiles as he takes it from me, and it took everything for me not to grab a bag and swat it at him again.

“hey, that doesn’t mean i—!!”

—-

as porco finished up helping her with the stand, he said his goodbyes and made his way back to the marleyan base. he found his good friend reiner roaming about and decided that he had to tell him about what happened “so, you know that girl I was talking about, the one that ran that shop?” porco questioned. reiner nodded, porco was always blabbering on and on about random women every chance he found one that was his type, but none ever worked out, it was kind of no surprise that he had something to say. “did it go well?” reiner furrowed his eyebrows, wondering how things went last time, since the other one ended up being uninterested. “did it go well???” porco repeated reiner’s question.

“It went better than i thought it would, actually.. I thought I messed everything up at first.” porco then continued to tell him the rest of the story.. reiner started to hear something that gave him a very familiar feeling..

the teasing, the owning the fruit stand, the stubborn girl that refused any help, the way that she hit him a couple of times. reiner started to stare off into the distance for a few moments before looking back at porco.

“say, porco.. did you…ever get her name?” reiner asked. porco just gave him a very confused look in return.

“yeah. of course I did, but it’s not like you would know her anyway..” porco giggles. “yeah.. I guess you’re right.” reiner attempts to laugh along with him, but something seemed off. “anyways I’ll tell you if anything else happens, I gotta head down to train with pieck. see you later reiner!” porco runs off all happy, and child-like. reiner’s mind starts to wander.

hm…

fruit stand.. huh?