#this was supposed to be shorter chapter - oops

[b0xerdancer-writes]

It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 3

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that hes already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander (I love Mor but it’s a plot point for later on I promise!), cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,941

Notes: Part 3 is here, bit of a shorter chapter but im happy with where I left it off at, lots of Lucien and Eris bonding this chapter. Enjoy sweet affectionate drunk Eris. Not proofread at all. I posted this on my break. Posted on wrong account earlier oops!

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“You promised me we could go dance when I got back.” Happily intoxicated and finally relaxed, he wrapped his arms around me surrounding me with his scent of firewood and cinnamon. 

Lucien gave me an apologetic look from over Eris’s shoulder, as Eris nuzzled into my neck and hummed sweetly. A blush crept to my face at the overly affectionate display from the eldest Vanserra brother. His breath fanned across my collarbone as purred against me and I couldn’t help but feel an ache in my chest wishing for this to be a regular thing that I got to experience, but I was drawn from my spot as the forms of Azriel and Rhys talking with the other reentered Rita’s. I tapped Eris lightly on the shoulder and he made a hum of acknowledgement, his honey amber eyes seeking out my own  as he moved to pull me towards the floor. 

Just as I moved to stand myself I felt a squeeze of my hand from Mor, who was giving me a look that was a mix of sympathetic and apologetic.

 “I..,” she looked down into her lap where her other hand rested. “I never meant to lie, and I never meant for it to get so out of control like it is now. I, just, I’m sorry. I mean it. For what happened.”

I gave her a soft smile and squeezed back, biting back any bitter remarks that echoed in my brain after all these years of holding contempt against her. “Hey, no worries. We all have to do and say things to get by.”

She smiled softly back at me and moved her hand from mine into her lap as she let Eris pull me to the dance floor. She took a sip of wine and her shoulders deflated as Azriel and Rhys slid into the booth with her. Lucien had moved to the bar talking with the bartender there, though I couldn't see if he was ordering another drink or not. 

Eris pulled me close to him away from the prying eyes of the inner circle as he put his hands around my waist and tucked me into his chest, a slight rumble echoing there that I could only feel through the music.  The music was a slower one then what normally came from the live bands that rotated through, and Eris used it to his advantage as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, a small tilt of curiosity in his voice.

He brought my wrist up to his lips and pressed them to the small tattoo barely bigger than a fingernail. “What kinda deal did you make with her, hmm?” 

I moved to cup his face with the same hand he kissed. “You're too far gone to understand the significance of what it means right now if I told you.” I smiled softly, moving to pull him with the music as it began picking up into a faster beat, a new song.

He raised a brow at me with a cocky, sarcastic, yet relaxed look on his face. Mischief danced in his eyes, I’d never get used to how good that looked on him.

“I’m sure even in my haze I’ll understand.” He smirked as he pulled me tight against him, a move that was influenced by a mix of the music and trying to lure me into giving him what he wants; A move I knew all too well, that managed to bring me to my knees everytime.

I sighed as I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down so he could hear me over the pounding music. “It was a deal to get her to stop slandering you so much, I didn;t even think it was going to be a deal. Think she made it so I would understand how much she was sorry for everything she did.”

His eyes twinkled, as a smile bloomed on his face that made him practically glow. He cupped my face with both hands, eyes locking with mine. “You stood up for me again? Made a whole bargain just so I wouldn’t be slandered?”

I nodded and he purred loud enough I could hear it even with the blaring music. My heart skipped a beat as he dropped my face and pressed my body into his, leaning down to whisper into my ear.

“Darling,” he mused “I will never be able to repay you for all the favors you do for me. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to my temple before he spun me around and pressed my back against his chest with a smirk.

“Plus, when you defended me against Azriel’s words earlier it was pretty hot little fox~.” He purred into my ear, blush crept into my cheeks and I spun out of his hold. 

He’s just drunk. There was no meaning behind his words really, just trying to get a rise out of me. “Get it together Eris, quit playing these games of yours.” I rolled my eyes and he let out a childish giggle.

“Okay, Okay fine. You win.” He surrendered but the mischief in his eyes wasn't gone.

He took my hand in his and spun me into him grabbing at my hands to lift me into his arms, my legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. He smiled wickedly at me, cheers erupted around us as the song came to a dramatic close. My eyes scanned the crowd behind Eris, everyone must have been watching us dance, he had managed to pull me into the center of the floor without me realizing. 

He smirked at me and I leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Sly fox.”  

His hand that supported my weight on my ass was a searing heat against me though he wasnt using any of his power. I jumped from his grasp to pull him into a quick bow. I was going to need several more drinks if this was how the night was going to proceed, sly remarks and lingering touches all masked under the influence of alcohol. 

Song after song played and we let eachother lose ourselves in the others' touches and remarks. Fuck it, if this was temporary I was bound and fucking determined to enjoy what attention like this I could get from my mate, even if he didn’t know that little fact he seemed to be enjoying it just as much as I was. Eventually as the night grew later I felt Rhys’s claws against my shields and I greeted him with a grumble for interrupting.

“Heading home, Feyre is starting to miss Nyx. Have fun, but not too much fun. Sorry for earlier I should have stepped in, I know you wouldn’t have let anyone talk about Feyre like that in my absence.” I felt his power rub against my conscience apologetically, it felt sad and remorseful.

“Have a goodnight Rhys, tell Feyre night for me too.” I laughed softly. “Don’t worry Rhys, I'll be good. I wont say it’s okay cause its not and your right but I’ll forgive you brother. I love you, have a goodnight.”

“I will, love you too.” He slipped out of my thoughts with an affectionate caress and my shields slid back into place.

As I returned my attention to Eris he was pouting, brows furrowed as he looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong Eris?” 

He let out a huff like a child throwing a tantrum. “Tell Rhys to leave you alone, it's us time.” 

I smiled and wanted to laugh at his childish behavior but bit it back as I smoothed out his hair. “Don’t worry you poor thing, he's gone now, he was just apologizing and saying good night.”

He pouted further when I called him a poor thing and it made me smile softly, a warmth blooming in my chest, but once he noticed my full attention was back on him he perked up. We danced for a while longer till the alcohol seemed to lessen from his system and he deflated as he held me close. 

“I have to go back to Autumn soon.” He sighed, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. 

I couldn’t stand seeing him upset. “Welcome back to the land of the coherent.” I joked trying to cheer him up and I felt him smile against me.

“Thank you, I mean it. You always put me first and I’ll never be able to repay you for all of it.” He mumbled into my shoulder.

I rubbed at his shoulders as he leaned against me for a moment before I began pulling him off the dance floor. “I gotta close out our tab but then we can go relax for a bit before you have to leave, okay?”

He nodded, eyes not glimmering nearly as much as they had been and my heart ached for him. I pulled him with me to the bar, the tender busy making drinks told us it would be a minute before he could get to us. Eris bid his time wrapping his arms around my waist and buried his face in between my shoulders. I held his hands that were firmly clasped around me with one of mine as I finally closed our tab out. He growled under his breath when I made him release me so we could leave the bar and I swatted his hand softly with a giggle. 

“You big teddy bear, we do have to leave the bar you know? You wanna go to the house of the wind? Or I actually share an apartment with Lucien in the city we can go there?” I crooned at him and felt him giggle into my shoulder.

“-partment” He cut himself off as he mumbled into my back.

“Wanna winnow or walk?” I rubbed at his forearm softly connecting the freckles that littered his skin.

“Walk, I don't know if I can winnow without getting sick.” He looked up from my shoulder, only his eyes showing over my shoulder. The gold and orange flecks in his amber eyes illuminated by the faelight signs behind the bar advertising the different brands they carried.

My breath caught in my throat as I entwined my hand with his and led him from the bar. He grumbled under his breath as I stepped out of his grasp. “I was comfy.”

I had to fight a giggle. “And I promise you, you can be comfy again when we get to the apartment.” 

He mumbled a fine and moved to step in front of me so he could hold the door open for me to pass through. “Fine. I guess that's an acceptable promise then.”

I smiled up at him as I passed and turned around to offer my hand out to him again. A smile crept onto his face but exhaustion was present in his eyes as he entangled his hand in mine. 

The walk to the apartment was slow, purposely though, so Eris could postpone having to put that mask back on and return to his court. It would probably be a week till I saw him again, a week for him that would be full of having to strategically put on a mask around his fathers court till he could replace them and build it the way he wanted to.

I felt a tug on my hand as Eris stopped to look out at the mountaintops, where a single shooting star fell and disappeared behind them. 

He looked over at me and a soft barely there smile graced his features. “You make a wish?” 

I would only ever wish for one thing, felt like  if I asked for more then it would be too greedy of me, especially when the mother and the cauldron couldn't even grant me my single wish. 

I nodded in response and the softest smile graced his features and his entire body seemed to relax. “So did I.”

I wanted to ask what he wished for but knew there was the superstition about if you told what your wish was that it wouldn’t come true, so I left the question unasked. He took a step back to my side and motioned to the sidewalk ahead of us.

“Ready whenever you are.” He looked down on me and the shop lights caught his eyes making them flicker like fire.

Fuck I wanted to kiss him here and now, but if I did I put everything on the table. I couldn’t lose this so I opted to push the feeling down and it felt like I was going to suffocate as I pulled him towards the apartment again. The rest of the walk was quiet Eris falling into line beside me. Once we made it to the apartment I led him up the stairs to see no lights on, Lucien must still be out then I reasoned. 

I pushed the door open, the wards clicking to life and unlocking at my presence. Inside was decorated in a mix of autumn and night colors, mine and Lucien’s safe haven here. The couch was large enough to fit both me, Lucien and one other person, the wood frame was a dark almost black color and the fabric that lined it a deep reddish orange that had reminded me of eris’s hair when we picked it out. A large blanket made of fur was thrown across the back of it, in case me or Lucien passed out there, on one of the 2 throw pillows it came with. Lucien had picked out a reading chair that was a deep emerald green that he’d tucked into a corner by a bookshelf, I knew he picked the color because it reminded him of Tamlin and the Spring Court but said nothing to him. He had a similar blanket to the one on the couch folded on the ottoman that matched the chair, the novel Lucien had been reading before he left for his mission sat bookmarked on top of the blanket. 

Plants and candles littered the space, nicknacks reminiscent of Spring and autumn sat on nearly every shelf.  A small coffee table separated the couch from the fireplace, on it my own books sat, one a precursor to the one Lucien had been reading and the other a gift from my father when I was younger that talked about constellations and astronomy. As I led Eris inside I could see his eyes sparkle and watched his shoulders completely deflate as he stepped over the boundary, I closed the door behind him and the wards locked into place again. 

Eris looked around a second before he found himself standing in front of the fireplace. He squatted down and sparked the fire to life before he stood back up and spotted a small wooden carved figure of a fox sitting regally, it had scratches and tiny dents in the soft wood but it was after all over 500 years old. Eris picked it up and turned it over, his eyes found mine and he looked like he was going to start crying.

“You still have this?” His voice cracked. Fuck.

I nodded. “Of course I do, it was the first gift you ever gave me.”

He had carved that fox for me by the edge of the pond the next time we had visited, it had become our regular spot to go when our fathers were meeting.

He set it back into its spot and wiped his eyes where tears had begun to bubble. I moved to sit on the couch and he took a few shaky steps forward before he dropped to his knees and buried his face in my lap, tears spilling from his eyes. Fuck this was so similar to the day he had been told he was to be engaged to Mor. 

I entwined my fingers in his hair, trying to sooth him softly but my own tears were beginning to line my eyes. We sat and he cried in my lap for an hour before he began falling asleep where he sat on the floor with his head on my knees. I couldn’t begin to comprehend why me still having that fox caused him to break like that, I wanted to ask but knew if I pried it would probably cause more pain. Somewhere the voice in my head answered me with the thought “because it shows you actually care. That you've always been there and always will be.”

I noticed his breathing had slowed, only catching here or there and I moved a stray hair behind his ear and he looked up at me, his sorrow filled eyes finding mine.

“You aren’t going back tonight, are you? It's awfully late and I wouldn’t want you to get sick from winnowing.” My voice was barely audible but he shook his head and sniffled softly.

“Then let's go get you into some comfy clothes, yeah?” He nodded and leaned back onto his knees to let me stand.

As I stood I ran my fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes to lean into my touch. Mother save me, even after crying for so long he still managed to look so pretty. I extended my hand out to him and he placed his in mine gently, as he stood his knees popped and he cringed; he had spared them no mercy with the force he collapsed onto them with earlier.

I led him to Lucien’s room, the two had to be a similar size I gathered based on what it looked like when they stood beside each other earlier. An old wooden dresser was tucked into the corner of the younger male’s room and I led eris to sit on the bed as I scrounged through the drawers till I found a pair of sleep pants. I pulled a loose white sleep shirt from the closet and passed them to Eris. 

“Go ahead and change, I’m going to slip into some comfy clothes of my own. My rooms right across the hall, when you are done just head to the living room. I’ll make us some tea and we can relax. Okay?” he just nodded as he looked at the clothes and I slipped out of the room, closing the door and stepping into my own room. 

I pulled a wine, almost maroon color set of satin pajama set, a tank top and pair of shorts, from my own dresser; quick to change into them I wrapped a matching sleep robe over my shoulders and slipped back out into the hallway. I could see Eris’s shadow on the wall of the hallway, the events of the day catching up to me as I processed everything now that I finally had a moment to breathe softly. I stepped into the kitchen, making us a pot of chamomile tea, drizzling the slightest bit of honey into our cups. 

Eris looked at me with the saddest smile as I handed him the cup and he took a sip of it. I put my own cup on the coffee table Eris following suit as he swallowed; he scooted a few inches down before he laid down on the couch, his head on my lap. My fingers found his hair as I watched the fire flicker in the hearth, he had one hand resting right above my knee which he clung to me with as if I would be ripped from his grasp. 

After a few minutes his breathing became shallow and I looked down at his sleeping face. He finally looked relaxed, I reached above him to pull the fur blanket onto his frame, and began humming a soft lullaby my father would sing to me when I was upset. 

I must have fallen asleep myself, because next thing I know I was woken up by the wards unlocking. As the door was pushed open Lucien stilled in the doorway, eyes wide like he had walked in on something he shouldn’t have. He settled after a second and shut the door behind him softly, wards clicking locked.

“I thought he was going back tonight?” Lucien raised a brow in question.

“He was originally. I offered to bring him back here to relax before he had to go back…” I trailed off

“But?” Lucien brought our cups to the kitchen, sitting them softly in the sink with a clink.

“When we got back, he spotted the little fox he carved me and broke down crying. I mean he was fully on his knees crying into my lap Luci.” I sighed and tucked a stray hair away from Eris’s face.

Lucien hummed in acknowledgement, quickly washing the cups and putting them away. “You know why?”

“No. He didn't say anything once he stopped crying.” I mumbled softly watching the way Eris’s features softened as I stroked his hair back.

Lucien stalked across the living room barely making a sound, besides a creak of a floor board. Leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the ottoman, he threw the blanket over his legs and sat the book on his lap.

“Its because he has realized that after all this time, you still genuinely care about him. That you have never once had a thing against him, never once thought him the terrible male everyone else does. That you still care, always have and always will.” Lucien sighed before he continued. “After all they said tonight, I think it got to him. When we went to the bathroom, he said something that got to me even. It didn’t make sense to me till now.”

I looked up at Lucien who had his head leaned back and was staring at the ceiling. “What did he say?”

His amber eye found mine, something serious in them. “I barely caught it under his breath, probably shouldn’t have even heard it. But he said ‘she's why i’m doing this, she’s why I’ve got to be better, she’s why.’ He was practically chanting it under his breath. I think Azriel’s words got in his head, I know he struggled with feeling he was enough of a good male to still call you his friend. Our father’s abuse broke how he views himself, so under that mask he wears opinions to get to him when it's. It’s a lot for him, it gets to him.”

I nodded, felt the tears line my eyes again but Lucien caught me off before I could say anything. “So when he saw that one little figure, it might be silly to you to see him cry over it but it was proof that even to one person, one person he cares for more than the Prythian itself, that he is none of those things and that someone actually cares, shattered him. Trust me when I say this hun, but he would raze all the courts to the ground if something happened to you, so yeah your opinion of him matters more than anything to him.”

Tears ran down my face slowly. “But why?”

“Why what?”Lucien half smiled.

“Why do I matter so much” I sniffled

“Honestly, I don't know, just do. If I had to guess it's because you have been there since the beginning, since before his life went to shit.” Lucien hummed. “Now stop crying or you’ll wake him up, wipe your cheeks off.”

I wiped my face and nodded quickly. “Can I ask something?” Lucien mused.

I nodded. “Yeah?”

“You emphasized the fact that he was on his knees. Like you had seen it before, what happened last time that made you realize how important the reason for crying was to him, whatever it was?” He returned his gaze to the ceiling.

“It was the woods after he was informed about his engagement to Mor…” I mumbled and looked down to watch how Eris’s fingers clung to my leg. 

“Oh.” Lucien hissed.

“He snuck out a bottle of alcohol and we ran off to our spot in the woods. He broke down in my arms, we broke down and cried together.” I sighed “He begged me to not leave him alone in the world.” 

Lucien sat up fairly quickly. “He.. He begged you?” Lucien’s eyes both found purchase on me. “He thought you would leave him and he begged you to stay?”

I nodded. “He begged and apologized and we both cried harder than I thought was possible. He asked if I hated him Lucien.” The younger male sucked in the sharp breath.

“What did you say to him?” The redhead murmured to me like it was almost forbidden to say it out loud.

“I promised him that I never have, never could, and never will.” I brushed Eris’s hair out of his face again and he smiled in his sleep and purred against my thigh.

Lucien’s eyes widened as if he realized something that had eluded him for years. “You made a deal with him that you would never be able to hate him… You wouldn't have made that deal unless you knew it couldn’t be broken no matter what. Your mates aren’t you?” 

I nodded and Lucien wiped his face with your hands. “He doesn't know does he?” 

I shook my head again. “No he doesn't” 

Lucien hissed under his breath. “Oh now you two have most definitely worked yourselves into a mess.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“He loves you, I know that much. For you to matter that much to him he has too. He chose you for this whole fake dating thing for a reason then” Lucien mumbled. 

I stilled and cut him off. “He said he chose me because I was the first female that came to mind that he trusted enough to ask to do this.” I hissed.

“The first female,” Lucien hissed back, “Because he is in love with you.”

We both sighed loudly and Lucien turned to me with a soft look in his eyes. “Just don’t let him burn himself out is all I ask. He’s the only other good member of my family, snuck me out to Spring Court, warned me about what they were going to do to Jes.”

I nodded and he stood. “I'm going to go take a bath, have a good night, I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Jesminda came up, after all these years it was still a sore spot for him. Especially after he had seen Elain hanging on Azriel, I was just surprised he brought it up himself. Showed how much Eris truly meant to him, made sense why he cared so much but his wording confused me. 

“What do you mean by ‘Don’t let him burn himself out?’ Lucien?” I furrowed my brows in confusion. 

Lucien stilled in the archway of the hall, his back still to me as he looked over his shoulder. “I mean he is willing to play with as much fire as it takes to stay close to you even if he burns out in the process. Don’t let him burn out, keep his spark ignited, fan it into a raging forest fire. We both know the capability he has to become one of the best males there is, we both know the only reason he has to do that now is you. He is reforming Autumn for you it seems like. Keep that spark fanned, strike out whoever wants to snuff it. The only thing keeping him burning is you.” Lucien’s mind was racing as he spoke but mine was equally so. 

He turned and looked me dead in the eyes, a fire raged deep within them. “Promise me, make a deal with me here and now.”

“What?” I was taken off guard by his tone of voice.

He strode over to me with his hand extended. “Let's make a deal here and now that you will protect him, that you won't let him burn out or let anything bad ever happen to him again. That you’ll chase his terrible thoughts away, just like you did tonight, whenever they become unbearable for him.” 

I looked back down at his hand, then back up into his amber and metal eyes. I placed my hand firmly in his. “It's a deal.”

I didn’t want anything from Lucien in exchange, knew we both wanted the same thing here, for Eris to be happy. I knew what my purpose was the second I felt the sting of a new bargain tattoo on my upper right arm. As I pulled back from Lucien and looked to the spot i had felt the sting, I knew that no matter how long it was going to take even if we got into a terrible argument after this arrangement, that I would wait for Eris and be there to chase his fears away, knew the second my eyes locked on the tattoo that perfectly mirrored the wooden fox Eris carved for me all those years ago.  In the same spot on Lucien’s shoulder was a constellation in deep red ink.  

Lucien smiled at me and returned to the archway calling over his shoulder before he disappeared with a smirk. “Goodnight Sister.”

It felt like my body absorbed all the heat it could from Eris and pushed it right into my face, my heart racing and an ache settled in my chest that was only soothed by Eris’s fingers clinging slightly tighter to me. I settled taking the second throw pillow and putting it behind my head, the least Lucien could have done was give me his blanket before he left, Fuck. 

Taglist:

@stained-glass-eyes0708

@acourtofbatboydreams

@abysshaven

@wallacewillow0773638

[willowthegrey2]

First

Larissa Weems x Original Female Character

Note:

So it's been *checks notes* two years and a bit since I last posted a fic. That's about right for me. Anyway, quick disclaimer, Serena Talon is my OC for Larissa fics so far. This story isn't canonically related to Hope in a New World, but Serena looks the same and has pretty much the same personality. I'm just much too lazy to create a new one right now (oops). I was inspired to write a slightly more angsty hurt/comfort fic for Larissa so let's see how good I am at that. Enjoy!

I don't own anything except for the characters.

Chapter 1

She met Morticia when she first moved into her dorm. She had 3 suitcases of just clothing and the rest were boxes of books, study supplies, and magazines. Morticia snorted with amusement as Larissa carefully unpacked her clothes first and everything that followed suit was elegant, beautiful, and ornate, right down to her bedsheets. Morticia introduced herself with a quiet confidence. The type teenagers longed to master without really trying. Despite it all, Larissa stuck to her like glue, signing up for the same classes Morticia would take, sitting at her table in the cafeteria, putting her name on the signup sheet for clubs with her. Morticia was always there when everyone else’s company was fleeting. 

Larissa Weems went through so many emotions in her teenage years at Nevermore, especially in regards to Morticia Addams.

She admired her when Morticia seemed to know the answers to every question in class. When she would fence better than those boys who wouldn’t give the girls a second glance in phys-ed. When her assignments were used as examples in class. How she got her eyeliner straight on the first swipe and identical on the other eye. How she always knew what to wear that day and never seemed to run out of clothing or ways to style it.

She hated her when Morticia would say something in passing to her that was supposed to help. ‘Oh Larissa, you know we’re just going to the mall with the girls. You don’t need all that on.’ When Larissa would overthink every single item of clothing on her body in hopes that Morticia would approve of her outfit and still, Morticia would always have something to point out that would make Larissa’s fragile self-esteem deflate further. When she asked Morticia to study with her, Morticia would be able to focus and understand everything while Larissa was fiddling with her pen and re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. It didn’t matter that she got A’s because Morticia got the same grade with her own flair.

She envied her when Morticia effortlessly captured the attention of everyone around her. They would laugh at her jokes, compliment her looks, ask her to hang out. When Morticia didn’t seem to second-guess every sentence out of her own mouth, every expression shown on her face. No overthinking, no anxiety about who she was. Morticia was just… Morticia.

She loved her when Morticia told her that she wanted her as her fencing partner, to be her co-pilot for the Poe cup, to go shopping with her for a Rave’n dress.

She’d shiver with humiliation when she thought of it now but Larissa tried shapeshifting to look more like her when she was younger. The school was massive and nobody seemed to notice whether or not Larissa was there anyway, so she’d become a different person and look just slightly like Morticia to see if anyone treated her like that. Like she was divine.

Black hair. Brown hair. Hair down. Hair straight. Hair curly. Black dress. Shorter height. Longer legs. Longer torso. Larger breasts. Smaller breasts. Long nails. Short nails. More makeup. Less makeup.

Well, it wasn’t Morticia’s looks or clothes or voice that made her the school’s version of God’s gift to earth. She was charismatic. She was confident. She was unique and individual but in just the right way so that most people loved her and those who didn’t were looked down on.

The only ‘benefit’ – if one could call it that – that Larissa got while shapeshifted was hearing what people really thought about her.

‘You know, the tall chick? Always dresses like she’s trying too hard.”

‘That’s half the girls in the school.’

‘Girls hit puberty first, right? Whatever. I mean the girl who’s always with Morticia.’

Oh, the blonde? Yeah. You think that’s her real hair colour?’

‘Who cares? She’s a shapeshifter, every hair colour is natural for her.’

‘True.’

‘But if I told her to shapeshift into like… Marilyn Monroe or something, would she?’

‘Why Marilyn Monroe? Can’t think of a more modern reference?’

‘I could but I don’t think she’d understand it the way she talks about those black and white movies as if they’re not incredibly boring. Plus, Marilyn Monroe is hot. I bet I could even get her to do the voice. At least that way she’d be interesting or something. I can’t believe she thinks anyone cares about fashion or learning about the art history of paintings in the Louvre or whatever. Like, what are we? 70?’

‘She’ll probably have a cat to tell it to in the future.’

‘I give her 25 years.’

‘I give her 10.’

‘The tall chick.’ ‘The blonde.’ ‘The girl who’s always with Morticia.’ ‘The shapeshifter.’

Being principal didn’t really change that. It was the closest she got to someone acknowledging her, but it was within a professional capacity.

What she wouldn’t give for somebody to use her name, just once. To think of her. To see her, to notice her. To call for her. For her to be their first choice.

-

‘Good morning, Principal Weems.’ ‘Larissa, do you mind looking this over?’ ‘Hey, boss, when’s that report due again?’

They never asked her how she was, if she was all right. They didn’t care about her day or her weekend or even what she liked to drink. Did she radiate some sort of insecurity? Insincerity? Arrogance? Were they just intimidated because she was their boss?

For 25 years she worked at Nevermore. Almost 30 had she lived in its halls. She spent less time in a house of her own than she did at the school. Her social life consisted of her colleagues, people in town she was more or less forced to associate with, and the occasional outing she would get from a moment of weakness on dating apps. They rarely went well. The longest relationship she had lasted three months in university before she swiftly broke it off.

She could count the number of times she had sex on her hands. She didn’t even know what constituted sex anymore. Penetration? Once or twice. Heavy petting? A few times. Having an orgasm with a partner? Never.

It was easier to just not think about such things. She loved her job, as difficult as it was. She almost died and when she woke up in the hospital, the only people there to greet her were nurses, a doctor, and a couple of cops. She’d never felt so alone, so scared at the idea that she would have to heal alone, leave the hospital alone, go home alone. She cried when they left, so much so that she got a headache from the dehydration that felt comparable to a hangover.

In Jericho, barely anything had changed. Normie-outcast relationships continued as normal, strained and shrouded in distrust. Colleagues came and went, students graduated or dropped out. Hardly anyone died anymore though, thank goodness. Wednesday seemed to have calmed her morbid curiosity for the time being.

The librarian has retired. Larissa is hardly surprised, the only person who has been there longer than her is Ms. Bennett. A sonokinetic, rather good at keeping the library quiet. None of the students enter anyway, but the few who do practically have their voice ripped from them. It sounds more violent than it is, but Ms. Bennett always reasoned that until one checked the book out, they had no reason to make noise.

Still, nobody said her name.

-

Larissa is quick to hire a new librarian. Serena Talon. Pronounced ‘Tay-lon’, so the young woman has informed her. Telekinetic. Good for stocking books back on shelves, she supposes.

Twenty-six years teaching at Nevermore and for the first time, one of her colleagues walks up to her at the end of the first week of school and says; “Good evening, Principal Weems. I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat with me.”

Larissa accepts in the same quiet, polite way she always speaks but her heart does a gymnastics routine in her ribcage. She doesn’t know what this is for. To discuss business? To suck up to her? To ask for a raise? As presumptuous as it may be, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Or maybe, perhaps, possibly, someone perchance wants her company.

----------

Note:

High school is freaking rough, okay? Except for Morticia. She did fine. Wait... she did kill a guy... yeah, never mind. Thanks for reading!😊

[winwintea]

so i have pneumonia actually and i feel a bit okay rn... which is why i've basically been dead apart from posting stuff that i've already finished lol 😭 (pretty sure i've had it for at least a week bruh i only went to the doctor yesterday and got antibiotics)

i've been in the endless cycle of lurking, sleeping dying, and working on the written part which i should've finished sooner except its like already nearing 2k words ?????????????? like i didn't mean to do that um oops? it was supposed to be shorter but i love writing angst i guess.

i've seen all the lovely asks sent in my inbox just havent had the motivation to type out responses atm 💀 if i could voice-to-text them i would but i've been coughing way too much.

chapter should be done either tmr or the day after? i'm gonna grind super hard over the weekend to try and post daily next week bc im also going on a cruise on the 27th and will also be awol for 3ish days

[iamthatonefangirl]

hii this is kinda coming from 🎮's post oops but do you have any tips for starting writing? like the process? i wanna start too but i have zero idea how to actually go about it

- 🌕

okay moon anon I really wish that I had a better answer for you, but I'll tell you what thoughts I do have for you. (you can skip to the end for my recommendations rather than read my long ass ramble on how I do things if you like)

I don't write novels or longer, chaptered fics, and I think those longer projects require more of a planned-out process than the way I write, but let me tell you what my process is anyways:

typically, when I come up with an idea, there's a quote I've come up with, or a sex position, or an emotion, or something of the like that I intend to base the fic on. (it's usually a quote, something dirty.)

for example: when I wrote now, I had a realization when I was sitting in the nail salon getting my nails done that I didn't have any fics with reader initiating. the idea was slightly different than what I ended up writing. I literally just wrote in my drafts something like "reader initiating with tws" and then two weeks later, I had the sudden inspiration hit to write it, and of course the scene morphed from the original thought.

but anyways, the quote/idea/whatever finds its way to my drafts. I have a lot of projects, so I prioritize based on a lot of factors - how long something has been sitting in my drafts, how long something has been sitting in my inbox, and what I'm truly in the mood to write at the time.

for example: I'll be posting an Uncle Bucky fic tonight, and the idea has been sitting in my drafts since May 6. I knew I hadn't written for him in a while, and I really wanted to, so that's the project I decided to work on today.

obviously, I don't write very long fics, most of what I write is 2k or shorter. I typically write, proof, and post in the same day because my posts are short.

for example, my recent han solo fic (thank you again for reaching out about it, I hope you enjoyed) (SPOILERS AHEAD THO) was the longest project I've ever undertaken. the entire fic developed from the introductory sentence: "being a senator's daughter wasn't easy." and from there, the basics of the fic formed: of her oppressive parents, her running away, her being saved, her wanting to learn about how to shoot, pilot, etc, the explosion of Alderaan, and the eventual confession of their mutual attraction to one another.

that was the basic outline I had in my head. I didn't write it down or anything, but I would write down quotes that would come to me throughout the day or while writing that could work in a future part of the story. like I said, the outline was only in my head, which can either be good or bad. I am a planner (which is ironic since I don't plan my writing) but also I think that by just having the ideas in my head, it lets the fic write itself. that’s what’s most important to me, is that the fic flows naturally, and that way I’m not forcing myself to try and write everything a certain way even though that’s not how the story is “supposed” to go.

for example: I’m working on another very long john walker project right now (currently at 5.6k) where the idea stemmed my repeat listening of “fill the void” by the weeknd, and so the idea came from the depression I was feeling in those moments. so of course, I began to write it with a specific plot in mind, and as I write it, the story is morphing right before my eyes. so I just go with it, and I let it happen as the universe wills it to.

in terms of my series/same universe fics including tws and uncle Bucky, sometimes I’ll go back and reread other fics I’ve written just to cross-reference and to get into the right mindset for the characterization.

but the most important part of writing the way I do, by letting the fic just unfold as I go, is PROOFREADING!!! I step away from the fic, distract myself for a while, and come back to proof. most of the time a fic takes a few sittings throughout the day and I kind of proof lightly each time I come back to it. I proof all the way through usually 2-3 times across my laptop and phone (I always catch things on my phone better than my laptop.) I take time in between each proof to get my mind off it for a bit to come back with a fresh mind.

so… that was a lot of me rambling. and a LOT of information.

here’s the best advice I can give to you: literally just start writing. find an idea, something that inspires you that you want to build on, and go for it. from there, keep doing that, and your personal writing style will build. maybe you find that certain things inspire you more than others, but no matter what inspires you, keep working at it. keep forcing yourself to just write even when the idea doesn’t seem like your best. you have to train yourself to develop ideas regularly, and the more you write, you’ll get into the hang of it more.

but yeah sorry this was so long, I love you anon 🤍 if this was unhelpful you can yell at me and you’re always welcome to ask more specific questions

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 20

A shorter chapter today. Written for ectober 2023 day 26: cult.

“What–  How?  How could you possibly do that?” asked Danny.  “How could you even be sure it’d show up on a– In a ghost’s clothing?”

“What?” asked Matthew.  “The Key?”

“Yes, the Key,” said Danny.  “It’s supposed to do that?”

“Yes,” said Gwensyvyr.  “I helped create the enchantment myself.  It isn’t the only one on the key.”

“The compass part?” guessed Danny.  

Gwensyvyr nodded.  “There is already a construct of magic in it, and that makes it so that it stays with the one who carries it, if they should become a ghost, until it is touched by a syvyr of our line.”  She shrugged.  “I could show you the schematic, but I fear it would not mean much to you.”

“I mean…”  Danny trailed off.  “Probably not.  I guess.  But… why?  And is it a new key, or–?”

“Oh, we could have done that.  In some ways it would have been easier.  But, no.  This is the same key, brought from a distance.”

“But… why?”

“Because it is in the nature of those who fight to die, and sometimes far from home,” said Gwensyvyr.  It would be… ill advised to leave any Key in the hands of the enemy.”

“Danny,” said Jazz.  “What are they saying?”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Oops.”  He quickly summarized the conversation from the point where he’d stopped acting as a go-between.  

“What did they mean by the ‘last Key?’” asked Jazz.  She seemed to be the only one put together enough to really ask questions.  “Vivian, do you know?”

Vivian shrugged and shook her head.  “That’s just what they said.”

“I don’t like that,” said Matthew.  “There are other Great Gate Keys, but they should be… they aren’t out and about where anyone could get them.”  He bit down on his lip then started typing on his phone.  

“So,” said Eugene.  “Who were they?  The people who…”

“I don’t know,” said Vivian.  “Evil bastards.”  She blinked tears from her eyes that vanished as they fell.  

“I have a thought of who they might be,” said Gwensyvyr.  “Or who they might originally have been.  It is suspicion, only, mind, and to understand you must learn a history that has been forgotten.”

Everyone leaned in again, as if that would make them hear better, faster.  Danny saw hands on knife hilts and fists bunched in clothing.  

“You remember, Dannyl, Yazmyn, what I have said before: all kinds of people leave ghosts.  The House of Dyrys has old enemies.  Enemies as old as I am.”

“The viking kings,” said Lewis.  “The ones who killed your husband.”

Gwensyvyr raised a finger.  “A little too fast, grandson, but, yes.”  She let her finger fall back to the surface of the table with a tap.  One that, by the flinches, everyone heard, not just Danny.  “It is difficult to speak of even now, and there are rites older even than myself which I have tried to follow, though the years flow like sand in a glass.  Needs must.

“You know some of my story.  I was born on Myz, near what is now Sy Roch.  Then I was called only Gwenn, for my hair was as white then as it is now.”  She touched one of her braids, pulling it back behind her ear.  “We were not one country, then.  Nor were we even nine countries.  There were few raiders in those days, and no one desired to be beholden to another.  Yet even so, there were things we had in common.  Language, names, rites, knowledge, and the knowledge that is beyond knowledge.  So when a priestess of the sacred pool came from Myrgyn to seek a successor for one who had passed, it was considered a blessing and an honor.

“There were nine of us.  Three for the pool itself.  Three for the spring that fed it.  Three for the apple tree that grew on its banks.  They were wondrous things.  Their magic was apparent by sight alone.  They glowed with it.  Some days, when the stars were right and the correct sacrifices were made, the surface of the pool would glow green, and become a door to the beyond.  A drop of the water of the spring in the mouth of the living might cause one to see spirits.  A drop in the mouth of a dead body might cause it to seem to live again for a time.  A drop in the mouth of a spirit - or mere proximity - might cause them to be seen and heard and other things besides.”

Definitely a portal, then.  

“The tree bore red apples and green, as you might see on any tree, but it also grew apples of gold and silver.  The silver apples could heal any ailment.  The gold granted power.”  

Gwensyvyr paused.  “It was a matter of great importance that the pool and its gifts be guarded.  Some few could be granted to any who asked.  But even something as small a bird or a fly that fell into the pool, or a worm that ate of an apple, could become a horror.  Evil, vile things would come from the pool as often as the good, or they traveled from elsewhere to seek it out for their own ends.”

“You were doing what I do in Amity,” said Danny, before he could stop himself.  “You were guarding a portal.”

“I’m not altogether sure what you are doing in Amity,” said Gwensyvyr, “but it would not surprise me if it were so.”  

Danny ducked his head, feeling eyes on the back of it.  Everyone was looking at him.  He knew it. He was going to have to explain that in more depth before too long.  

“But when I was not much older than you, the vikings came.  They came with great ships, with weapons, and with their own magic-weavers.  And, of course, we fought back.  We had our own weapons, we had our magic, and the sacred pool at our backs.  For some years, this was enough.  And yet even these things could not stall our enemy forever.  Not when he had been eying the riches of Myrgyn and the bounty of the sacred pool.  One by one, my sister-priestesses were killed, and I ran to the only escape I had available.”

“The portal,” said Danny, starting to see where this was going.  He swallowed back nausea.

“Yes.  The pool.  I was not fast enough.  With one foot in the pool and one on the shore, I was felled by an ax.  But I fell forward, and that was sacrifice enough.  The pool granted me its gifts, and by extension, life.  But I was so very weak, and when I crawled from the pool, the raiders were still there.

“They did not recognize me as one they had slain - who would?  They had not even truly seen my face.  Instead, they took me as a slave for themselves, and took me to the one who had led them.  The one who, in those days, thought to make himself a king.”

“He called himself Erik the Dark in those days, though I learned enough of him later to know that had not always been his name.  But Erik was a name for kings, and so he took it.  In this age, you might know him by another.

“Pariah Dark.”

[fandomfablesunleashed]

I'm not sure anyone wants to read my rambling, but in case you're curious, here's an update on my writing plans:

After finishing And They Were Roommates, I planned to release a one-shot about roommate Law (inspired by the penultimate chapter of Ace’s story). It was supposed to be angsty and unresolved, but me being myself, I started adding more and more while editing and came up with even more ideas. Once it hit 14K words, I decided to scrap the one-shot idea and turn it into a longer work, even though I had planned to focus on another longer fic for now (also about Law, but set in the canon One Piece world). Oops 🤷‍♀️.

I prefer to start posting once I have the whole story figured out—so far, I have eight chapters kinda done, and then things get complicated. As someone who mostly writes fluff, it's harder to tackle this. Also, It's turning out to have more plot than I originally thought, so I need to figure out how to make it work the way I want 😅 .

Besides, for this story, I wrote my first smut scene🔥, but then decided to cut it out and make it fade to black instead, as not everyone may want to read that. I don't want people to opt out of my story because of one sex scene, but I might be persuaded to release it as bonus content later🤭.

So, Law lovers, modern AU fans, hang in there, Tangled Lives is coming! Some day, hopefully soon🤞.

But before that happens, I’ll also have a Valentine's special for you (A Heartfelt Deception), featuring him. It's a modern AU with fake dating, and it's currently sitting at 7K words.

I also have a shorter one-shot about Ace coming soon (Sugar, Spice, and a Little Too Much Flirting)—it's about the reader baking while Ace is being a nuisance and flirting too much. I was grinning like crazy while writing it. It's written, but needs to be edited.

Besides that, I'm working on something for Genshin Impact for Valentine's featuring Xiao, and I recently started playing Love and Deep Space, which totally hooked me (especially Zayne and Sylus). So, there might be something related to that here soon too🫠

[mamamittens]

A Lone Melody (Pt. 7)

soft Platonic Yandere Arlong & OC (Melody)

Previous|Main|First

Warnings: Canonical mentions of slavery and racism. As well as mentions of branding but, to be honest, I'm pretty damn sure re-branding an ex-slave isn't the most... sensitive way to address trauma. So uh... I'm not doing that. Maybe Koala gets a tattoo over it later but like... no.

Anyway! Howdy! Been a bit, yeah? Well, there's no going back now, I suppose. I wanted to get at least a chapter out before tomorrow since I'll absolutely be playing Pikmin 4 this weekend lol

Thank you all for your patience as things start to get heated soon~!

Word Count: 1,489

Koala… didn’t know how to handle this.

It’d been three years since she was ‘freed’ by Fisher Tiger’s unexpected rampage and fleeing to this island. Sure, she was free now. No longer a slave. She understood that.

In her head.

But even three years later she flinched at loud voices. Messes made her anxious until she cleaned them up herself. Any mistake had her heart pounding. What was once a desperate hope to cope with her cruel reality became a hazy daydream.

Home.

Her mother, sweet and loving in the kitchen making breakfast. Her quant village full of faces she couldn’t remember. It was all fading away under the brutality of her memories of slavery. The name branded into her mind out of desperation, hotter than the brand that sealed her fate. She would go home but… she was just a kid. And the seas were a big place.

And then, shockingly, a vaguely familiar face came into port. Fishmen, which brought back memories of screams and smoke, lead by Fisher Tiger. Bright red skin and dark eyes staring out as he looked around.

His crew, the Sun Pirates, were in port. And possibly the only crew willing (maybe) and able (definitely) to take her home.

The townspeople asked on her behalf, nervous but hopeful to send her back home finally.

Fisher Tiger had a strange look on his face at that. A twisting expression that seemed to be an awful mix of emotions as he looked down at her. ‘Happy slave’ smile still etched onto her face—had been since she was beaten unconscious for frowning so long ago the edges of the pain blurred.

His eyes held sympathy and heartache as he smiled.

“Of course I will take her home.” He promised, elation rising in her chest.

Though, uhm, he didn’t appear to clear that with his crew. Several looked like they swallowed lemons.

A fishman with blue skin and a jagged nose looked like he wanted to beat her to a pulp before a small body darted between his legs.

“Hi! I’m Melody!” The little girl giggled, a bit shorter than herself. Light gray skin flush with a warm blush as red peeked out from under thick, white, black-tipped bangs. Her teeth were sharp and impressive as she bounced in excitement. “Are you human?!” she asked.

Koala… was incredibly lost.

“…Yes?” She flinched at the questioning tone, expecting someone to lash out at her—which may well have been the blue fishman if it wasn’t for a taller, broader fishman shoving his crewmate’s head down.

Melody gasped in elation.

“Cool! I’m half!” She crowed reaching out to grasp her hands. Her skin was smooth with a strange texture. Stronger than herself but aware of it.

Half? Half?

Somehow, this was the most shocking piece of information Koala had heard in a long time.

Melody grasped Koala’s hand and rubbed the back against her cheek with a giggle.

“You’re so soft! Wanna play?” She asked, still bouncing in elation. “Pah banned Dah from hosting tea parties cause he keeps going on and on about how cool fishmen are and ruins the fun.”

“… A tea party?” Koala asked.

Melody nodded.

“Yeah! Auntie Shar and her friends taught me! It’s easy, you just gotta drink tea and talk.” Melody informed her seriously. “And if we’re quiet we get to have cookies too—oops. I wasn’t supposed to let Pah hear that part.” Melody grimaced.

The taller fishman sighed, shaking his head.

“I already knew, pup. Arlong isn’t half as slick as he thinks he is.” He huffed, settling his hand on the other fishman’s shoulder with a stern look.

‘Arlong’ looked like he wanted to scream and rip her to pieces.

“Oh… does this mean I don’t gotta sneak cookies anymore?” Melody asked innocently, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere.

Tiger Fisher snorted.

“You go play tea party, pup. Jinbe will bring you two some snacks while I… talk to Arlong.”

Judging by the sour look on Arlong’s face, he already knew what kind of lecture he was in for.

“And let some filth—” Jinbe slammed his hand onto Arlong’s head with a hiss, Melody already dragging Koala away. An octopus fishman waved his many arms around and smiled nervously.

“W-Well! How about that tea party!”

“Okay! Wait… do you need six cups or is one fine, Hah-chan?” Melody asked curiously as quickly ushered them away.

“J-Just one, Melody~” He laughed with a look over his soulder.

She just heard Jinbe’s voice as she rounded a corner.

“Do. Not. Ruin this for her. Let her have a friend or I’ll—"

--*--

Fisher Tiger scowled at the maps, not really reading any of them. He already knew that he had never sailed to Foolshout before. But a little girl had been away from home long enough.

He had never really considered where the slaves he freed only a few years prior would go when he acted as he did. Just that they all deserved to be free. It was luck that Koala ended up on such a kind island, though she was human so it wasn’t much of a worry to begin with. He didn’t remember her, not really, but there was no mistaking that look in her eyes.

The look of someone made a slave too young. Emotions masked behind a fixed, unnatural smile. Hair a mess from lack of basic care. She was about ten or maybe eleven, old enough to know how to care for it. But just like him, she was still haunted from her time as a slave. It was a miracle she even remembered where she came from.

It was difficult to look at her, sometimes. But Fisher Tiger had grown a lot from that sad man in chains. It helped that he had such a supportive crew and, though he wasn’t sure how, the childlike wonder of his niece. Without that, he would have taken on this task with bitterness in his heart. Seen the marks of slavery still on her soul and done something drastic to try and wipe it away as he had tried with himself.

But Melody was taken with Koala. Always wanting to play with her hair and have Koala braid hers.

Arlong hadn’t stopped scowling since Koala boarded, pissed off that his daughter was close to a human. The first human she’d actually met, in fact. His amusement at Arlong’s plight helped temper that desperation in his soul. Jinbe certainly had his hands full keeping his friend in check around the little girl.

“Uncle Fishy!” Melody bounded into the room, her small hand grasping Koala’s thin wrist as the human’s fake smile faltered with nerves. Melody beamed, ruby eyes glittering behind her hair.

“Yes, Melody?” He asked with a fond smile.

“It’s food time! Food! Eat!” Melody bounced, reaching out for his hand. Fisher Tiger reached back and allowed Melody’s painfully small hand to pull on his fingers. He glanced at Koala with a soft smile.

“We’ll find your home soon, Koala. I promise.” He reassured her, “You’ve been free for three years… it’s time you went home.”

Melody paused, tilting her head as she glanced between the two of them. Letting go of his hand, she reached out and rubbed her thumb over Koala’s cheek, the human flinching at the motion.

“…It’s okay to cry, you know. Dah cried last week when Pah measured my height and found out I gained another half inch.” Melody informed her gravely.

That false smile wavered like a mirage and Fisher Tiger sighed.

“She’s right you know.” He whispered solemnly. “It’s okay to cry.”

He’d wept for hours in the comforting embrace of the sea when he finally found freedom. His brand burning in his flesh as he sobbed and wailed so deep only the sea beasts heard him.

Koala’s eyes watered, wavering smile falling to pieces as Fisher Tiger instinctively scooped up the two children.

He never would have done this a few years ago.

He still felt weak and pathetic from his time in chains, but he was undeniably a stronger man now. Shame no longer dogging his steps so heavily.

Koala would find her way to true freedom. The kind that cleanses the heart and soul that even he had yet to find. She just needed support and kindness she never had while in chains.

It wasn’t, after all, piracy or his flag that brought light to his heart after so long in the dark.

Fisher Tiger looked at Melody who reached out to Koala with gentle hands to pet her hair and shoulders soothingly. Not truly understanding the cause of Koala’s sadness but reaching out anyway.

He was a better man now… but deep in his heart, he knew he was still that pathetic wretch who could never quite let go of his hatred.

Maybe given time they’d both put the past behind them.

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

Bamboo for a Bashful Captain - (Gepard x Reader) - Chapter 2

Summary: You’re making your daily delivery rounds and become acquainted with Gepard’s sister. Things sure do happen!

▸ Genre(s): Fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 15k in total, 4.2k for this Chapter

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: Food mention, possible ooc, reader is shorter than Gepard but otherwise not much else is mentioned

A/N: I’ll have you know all of this was written on a Google Doc named “I am Sorry”.

MASTERLIST (also link to series)

A few days later, you were pleased to see that your new guard friend decided to show up again. 

He sure took his sweet while staring at the flowers this time. You couldn't blame him for his indecisiveness though, because choosing something as special as flowers could be a challenge.

Gepard eventually gave up and walked over to the counter. You gave him a friendly wave.

“Hey there again! How’s the new plant doing?” You inquired, shifting your weight onto your toes with a happy grin.

“Fairly well, surprisingly. I'm very happy with it,” he said with a relaxed expression.

“I’m glad! That’s the first time I've ever recommended somethin’ to someone!” You exclaimed. He blinked in surprise. 

“So, what are you in here for this time?” You asked.

“I'd like to buy some flowers for my older sister. She could use something to liven up her workshop. I'm not sure which ones to get for her though.” He paused, looking off to the side at the plants hanging by the windows. 

“Aww, that’s really sweet! What’s her favorite color?” You said.

“Purple,” he replied.

You glanced at the rows of purple flowers on the shelves and bit your lip. “Um, well, What's she like?” 

“She’s definitely something,” Gepard murmured to himself. “Between running the workshop and her rock gigs, she practically has an infinite amount of energy.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Rock gigs?” You questioned. “What’s that?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Rock is a genre of music she’s fascinated by. She does concerts sometimes… Although she’s somehow coerced one of my co-workers into performing with her,”

“No way… She’s a musician AND she runs a workshop? She sounds incredible!” Your eyes went wide with awe. 

Gepard stifled a chuckle.

“She can be, sometimes,” He sighed, tapping the desk with an armored finger. “If we ignore the numerous crazy things she’s done in the past,” 

“Sisters, am I right?” You chirped. “Anyways, what about you? What’s being a guard like?” 

“I suppose—,” 

He cut off as your boss shoved past you with some large boxes in hand, almost tipping you onto the desk, but your fall was stopped by his hands, which caught your shoulders and helped steady you. 

“Sorry about that! (Y/N),” she called, not bothering to look back as she rushed into the storeroom. “A new shipment came in today. We could use your help sorting it out if you could hurry it up a bit!” 

“Oops,” You turned back to him. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” you said sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind small talk,” Gepard responded, fiddling with one of the clasps on his uniform.

“Really? Phew.” You wiped fake sweat from your brow. “Anyways, I think she would enjoy a pot of Indigos.” You pointed to a flowerpot on the leftmost side of the shop. “They’re a nice bold color, and pretty hardy too!”

You swore Gepard’s eyes lit up as he picked up the pot of purple flowers. 

“These are perfect. Your recommendations truly are the best,” Gepard said when he returned to the counter. You thought you heard a bit more warmth beginning to creepinto his voice.

You smiled at him, and for a split second, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. And with that, you checked him out and handed him a blank thank-you card to write on, bowing politely.

“Thank you, come again!” You called, and squeaked in surprise as you were promptly yanked by the collar into the storage room. Gepard could only blink in confusion as he watched you disappear into the back. 

———

A few weeks passed, and Gepard had become a regular at the flower shop. You started to look forward to when he came in so you could chat about how his new bamboo plant was faring. 

I wonder if he has a name for it, you mused to yourself. Probably not,

It was kind of unusual how much he stopped by, though. 

You were in the middle of putting a case full of seed packets on the shelf when you heard the door creak open, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Be right there!” You shouted. You peeked your head out from behind the door frame, only to spot Gepard’s familiar blond hair once more. He was looking very intently at a dresser filled with a variety of multicolored plants. The soldier caught your gaze, but quickly broke eye contact with you, much to your confusion.

“Isn’t this the third time he’s come in this week?” You whispered to your boss, Meg, who was writing labels for the different jars on the shelves. She shrugged.

Meg put her hands on her hips. “I've got no problem with it. It’s good for business, after all. He always seems to be looking for something or someone in particular… He gets awfully sad when you aren't there, y’know,” 

You squinted at her, confused, and then shook your head in disbelief. You headed back to the counter where Gepard was waiting with a small sack in his hands. 

“Good afternoon, Gepard. What can I do for ya this time?” You stared at his face harder than normal, analyzing his expression. It didn't change much.

“Just the usual, please.” He placed the bag of plant fertilizer on the desk while he dug in his pockets for the change. He was dead serious, like usual.

Ugh. Why was he so impossible to read?? 

“You do know we sell these in larger sizes, right?” You questioned while pointing at the bag. Gepard nodded, shuffling his feet a little. 

“Yes, I am aware, but I have a very inquisitive little sister. I'm afraid one of her pets might get into it while I'm not there and get sick,” he answered. “It's easier if there's less of it for them to get into,” 

Gepard ran his gloved hand through his hair while you stood nodding thoughtfully.

“Ohhh, I see!” You let out a gasp of realization. “Phew! I was worried you were coming in here just to see me!” 

“No, of… course not,” he said, mouth agape. The soldier closed his eyes in embarrassment as he felt his face heat up. “Although, seeing you does improve my day greatly,” 

Your face morphed into a scowl, much to his surprise. “You oughta be spending your time better, you know. Guard duty sounds very demanding.” You folded your arms with a huff. “You know, delivery IS an option if you want to save some effort,”

“O-oh? Could you elucidate to me how it works?” He stuttered, expression changing to one of nervous curiosity. 

“Yeah! Delivery works with almost anything. We understand how hard it is to drag an entire plant or package to your residence,”

You shook your finger matter-of-factly as you went off on your sales pitch. “You can place an order in-store and we can bring it to you, even on the same day you place it!” 

“AND, we can do regularly scheduled deliveries, that way, you don't have to come in every two days. Instead, one of our very capable workers will get it to you!” 

He merely stared at you quizzically. You huffed. 

“Believe me, we’re stronger than we look.” You raised your arm, curling it into a fist. “I used to work in the mines, so I'm used to heavy lifting,” you said, putting your hands back on your hips proudly. 

Gepard exhaled through his nose. He knew you weren’t going to let this one go.

“So… Would you be interested? I’d hate for you to have to go on a wild Mole chase every time you want to buy fertilizer,” you said slyly. 

“Well—” He raised his hand to protest. “It’s really not an issue—,”

“Nonsense! I'm sure your schedule is super busy, so let me help you out!” You slid a purple notecard and a pen with a floral print across the counter to him. 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” The guard sighed in defeat.

Gepard waited until he got a safe distance away from the shop, and facepalmed with a weak groan. As he drew his hand away, a new look of determination flickered across his face. 

He was going to need new excuses to keep seeing you. 

———

Is this really the place?? You thought, boxes in hand. The sun was setting on the fancy buildings in the modern district of the city, painting them a brilliant orange. You adjusted your beret, determined not to let it fall off, and prepared yourself to venture up the stairs to the massive mansion located on the uppermost level of the city. 

When you reached the entrance at the top, you realized that the unfamiliar building made the shop you called home seem almost microscopic. Two guards were standing at the sides of the heavy-looking wooden door, complete with ornately carved bronze handles. 

The doors opened, and out walked a group of housekeepers. You gave them a feeble wave hello and trotted over to them.

“Hi there! I have a delivery for the—,” You narrowed your eyes at the card on top of the boxes—, “Landau Estate?” 

You hoped you didn’t just butcher the name. One of the guards and a maid sauntered over to you. 

“That’s unusual,” the maid said, taking the card and inspecting it closely. “We weren't expecting a package. This is for fertilizer, you say?” You nodded in agreement. 

“Do you know if anyone here ordered fertilizer?” She turned back to the group of servants, who all murmured among themselves. “Hmm… doesn’t look like it,”

“Oh jeez. I'm sorry, a man named Gepard ordered it. Maybe he put down the wrong address by mistake?” You shrugged. 

Who on Jarilo-VI would live in a house this big, anyways? You wondered. 

“Oh! The young master!” A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head. “I wasn't aware he had ordered something. I'm sorry, but we aren't allowed to accept packages on his behalf unless he clears it with us first.” She clasped her hands together. “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” 

You shook your head reassuringly. “That’s all right, I can just find him myself. Does anyone know where he might be?” 

That earned you a few quizzical looks. One of the aides, a woman with chestnut hair, piped up. 

“I heard he was heading to Serval’s workshop today. Maybe if you're lucky, you could catch him on his way out!” 

“Great! Thanks!” 

You adjusted the boxes under your arm once again and flew down the stairs two at a time. 

They called him “Young Master”? You furrowed your brow.

This was getting weirder and weirder.

———

Rapidly flipping through your map of Belobog, you pinpointed an eccentric looking building on the easternmost side of the plaza. When you reached the workshop indicated on your map, you stood still in amazement.

It was covered in the coolest metal fixtures and gave off a mature aura you couldn’t quite put your finger on. If something like this had existed in the Underworld, you wouldn't have been able to see it in full detail anyways.

Not right now! I have a delivery to make! You snapped at yourself. You pried the door open with your hand and used the weight of your back to push your way inside. 

The inside of the building was just as interesting as the outside. Metal cogs spun with no aim in particular, more tools than you had ever seen in your lifetime adorned the walls, and old manuscripts were sprawled out all over the various surfaces. You wanted to explore it all already.

You spotted Gepard talking to a boldly dressed woman at the front desk. Another blue-haired woman was working on a blueprint off to the side, too absorbed in her work to notice the commotion at the door. 

“Aha! There you are!” You exclaimed. “I've got your delivery for this week. Some housekeepers told me I could find you here.” You bounded up to him with the boxes curled under your arm, smiling as he thanked you. 

“I apologize you had to go through all that trouble to find me.” He rubbed his temples. “I should have cleared the whole thing with them first. Here, let me take that for you,” 

The tall woman stepped out from behind the counter, looking you up and down with great interest. She had stunning lip gloss and blond hair with a lone blue streak on her right side. You wondered where she got her style from, as everyone on the surface dressed the same, for the most part.

“And who might you be?” She inquired. 

“I’m (Y/N), from the flower shop across the street.” You curtsied with a smile.

“What a cute little doll!” The woman tilted her head at you, her eyes sparkling with adoration. “Gepard, where on Jarilo-VI did you find them? I know everyone’s face, and I've never seen theirs,” 

You saw Gepard shift from side to side in the corner of your eye. 

“I started working there just a few weeks ago, actually! I’m from the Underworld,” you chirped. 

“No way! Well then, it’s a pleasure to be meeting you!” She offered her hand for you to shake, which you took graciously. She was so easygoing, it was easy to be drawn to her. 

“I'm Serval, this clumsy oaf’s sister.” She wrapped her arm around Gepard and poked him in the side. “The one over there is Molly, my assistant!” She pointed at the worker with blue hair in the corner, who gave you a quick thumbs-up. “It seems you know my brother?”

“Well—,” you started. 

“We don't need to go into detail now, I'm sure you have places to be,” Gepard interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder. He hoped you couldn’t feel his palms sweating.

“No, no, no!” Serval pouted, “I'm invested now, can't you see?” She said, circling around you like a carnivore would. 

“Um. It’s fine, actually! That was the last of the deliveries scheduled for today,” you chimed in.

“Perfect! Molly, could you get our guest some tea?” Serval called. She led you to a small table with an oil lamp resting on it, pulling out your chair before she sat in her own. She rested her arm on the tabletop while leaning forward with a thrilled expression. 

Gepard stayed where he was, rubbing his forehead. The poor man’s cheeks were bright red. 

“So! How are you liking the city so far?” Molly set down two cups of steaming hot tea. You thanked her, then took a sip as you paused to think. It was fragrant and had just the right amount of sweetness.

“It’s honestly gorgeous. The air up here is so clean compared to the mines!” You replied energetically. 

“My thoughts exactly!” The woman across from you nodded. “There’s nothing like the cold Belobog air to wake you up in the mornings too. Have you visited the Everwinter Monument yet?” 

You took in a sharp breath. “No, I haven’t! Not for real, at least. I see it through the window of my apartment sometimes. Since I live and work in the same building, I haven’t really felt the need to explore the city yet,” you murmured. “Although, I'm being put on delivery more often, so I guess there’s that,” 

You gazed around the room curiously, taking another sip of your tea. 

“I've never been in a workshop this fancy before. What kind of work do you do here?” You asked.

“Well, we do a lot of mechanical repairs and research. Although, my brother might have mentioned that we hold Rock gigs here sometimes,” she responded. 

Said brother was looking at the delivery card with incredible concentration. 

I still don't know what a gig is, you sighed inwardly. 

“That's incredible! What instrument do you play?” You said, voice dripping with enthusiasm to make up for the confusion.

“Electric guitar,” Serval said. “I can go grab it for you if you'd like to see it,”

“Would I EVER???” You practically bounced out of your seat. She got up from the table and opened the door to a side room, snapping her fingers and humming to herself. 

Noticing a pot of purple flowers, your rose from your seat to inspect them. They were healthy and had enough sunlight. You gave a happy bounce of approval, then sauntered over to Gepard, who was still standing stiffly. 

“So that’s the sister you told me about, huh?” You smiled cheerfully. 

“Indeed. That’s her,” Gepard nodded in agreement. 

“I can't believe you have a MUSICIAN for a sister. She's so energetic!”

“I guess the only thing we have in common are our looks,” he mused. His eyes locked onto yours and you giggled.

“Pfft. You got that right,” 

“Miss Serval really is the epitome of exciting!” Molly called from her desk. You pumped a fist in silent agreement. 

“I guess you could say that. Although she can be a little overbearing sometimes.” Gepard sighed and looked off into the distance. “I'm really sorry to be dragging you out here on a work night,” 

“It’s okay, really. I could use a bit more excitement. My life doesn't need to revolve around the flower shop, after all,” you reassured him. 

———

When Serval came out of the side room with her guitar, everything clicked into place. 

No wonder her adorable little brother was being so sheepish! (Albeit, only a little more than usual.)

It’s because he was feeling shy, Serval deduced. Every time you looked him in the eyes, he looked away and his ears turned pink. She almost cooed out loud, giving him a pitying glance. This was TOO CUTE. 

A raucous grin spread across her face, which she quickly squashed before deciding her next move.

You turned to face the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor. 

“And here—,” she announced with a grand gesture—, “Is my magnum opus!” She laid her guitar on the table proudly.

You could not, for the life of you, see how the machine in front of you resembled a guitar in any way. It was large and avant garde, with a long black handle and tubes sticking off the side of the body.

It was still the coolest thing you had ever seen, though. 

“Wow. wow wow wow WOW!!” You gasped in amazement. “Can I-- can I touch it?!”

“Go ahead! Who am I to stop someone from admiring fine craftsmanship?” Serval chuckled lightly. You inspected the guitar with so much excitement, she could have sworn your head was about to explode.

“Anyhow, I need to check something in the back just for a quiiick second,” she said offhandedly, fishing through her pockets and pulling out a key made of brass. “C’mon Molly!”

Serval yanked the startled girl by the hand unceremoniously causing her pen to drop on the floor. She turned backwards for a split second and gave Gepard a wink.

Gepard gulped. He’s seen that look before. 

His rebellious sister was DEFINITELY planning something. 

When she returned, the smile on her face was even brighter. Blinding, even. Molly was nowhere to be seen.

“The mechanics are really well done!” You said excitedly. “I've never seen anything like it. Repairing minecarts and robots wasn’t anywhere near this level of intricacy,”

“Whoa! You really know what you're talking about, new friend! You know, if you're ever interested in working with us, we could always use an extra pair of hands in the workshop,” 

“I would LOVE that,” you replied. “I’ll have to adjust my work schedule first, though. I took on a few too many hours this week and tomorrow is my only free day. I was planning on using it to see the city,”

“It's no sweat! Come in anytime it strikes your fancy. Actually, the workshop happens to be closed that day too, would you be up to touring the city together?” 

You nodded vigorously. 

Serval grinned and clasped your hands with her own. You exchanged contacts, while Gepard pulled her aside to whisper something in her ear. She then promptly elbowed him in the gut, causing him to grunt in pain, Then out of the blue, your phone started dinging incessantly.

“Um, I don't think that's ME doing that—,” Serval said nervously. You furrowed your eyebrows, raising the screen closer to your face to get a better look. 

It was Vaska. They must have wanted you to come back to help close up shop. The sky outside had shifted from an orange to a deep blue, dotted sparsely with stars. You sighed and accepted the fact that you had to return to your ordinary flower-filled life.

Your disappointment was abruptly interrupted by a huge crash coming from the back room. Your phone almost flew into the air as everyone scrambled to check for the source of the noise. 

There Molly stood, covered head to toe in soot, coughing up a storm, with bits of machinery scattered everywhere. A few stray pieces rolled off the table the machine was sitting on. 

You made sure to watch your step as you clung to the walls to keep your balance.

“Oh, by Qlipoth,” Serval covered her face with her hand, closing her eyes. “I forgot we had an experiment running! Molly, are you all right?” She bent down, picking up some stray papers and rushed over to the girl. Serval dusted her assistant off worriedly.

You began to reach for some of the stray parts scattered on the floor, but Gepard held out a hand to stop you. 

“That's not a good idea. It's hard to see sharp edges with everything covered in soot right now. Let me take care of it,”

You blinked at him in surprise. 

“Well then, I guess it's a good thing I carry these around with me then!” You pulled out a pair of thick gloves from your apron triumphantly, and proceeded to carry on picking up the shrapnel. When Molly had been sufficiently cleaned up, Serval groaned. 

“The Department of Education wants these results in three days,” she spoke. “It'll take me all night to get this baby up and running again— I'm sorry, but I can't make it to our little outing tomorrow,”

You shook your head frantically. “I'm so sorry this happened!” You sighed. “If I hadn't distracted you—,”

“That's not it at all!” Serval interjected. “I can be a little scatterbrained sometimes. This kind of stuff happens all the time.” She gave a small laugh. “Geppie can attest to that,” 

He blanched, almost dropping an armful of tubes.

“I'm really, really sorry.” She bowed her head. “Gepard, could you take them instead? Please? I know you have this week off.” She placed her hands together in a praying motion and closed her eyes. He let out a small sound of surprise.

“It’s… not an issue,”

Serval’s eyes flew back open.

“Great! I’ll leave you two to it then!” Her old enthusiasm was back in the blink of an eye and she resumed sweeping up the room. Gepard led you back to the main entrance.

“Okay, I know I said I could use some excitement, but not THAT much excitement,” you said quietly.

“I suppose that makes two of us,” he replied. 

“Do things really blow up around here that often?”

“They sure do. She says it's all part of the process,” he spoke. “I hope that doesn't scare you too much,” 

“Not at all, actually. I've seen my fair share of explosions,” You chuckled. 

“That's a relief,”

Your phone rang again, and this time you answered it. You put it to your ear only to be deafened by Vaska’s screaming.

“The heck is taking you so long???” She barked. You could hear the clamor of your co-workers in the background.

“Gahh! Sorry, sorry! I’ll be right over,” you said hurriedly. 

“You better be,” she huffed impatiently. You hung up with a groan. As much as you hated it, she was right. Your duties for the night were far from over. 

“Oh! That reminds me,” you piped up. “Gepard, did I get your number? Wait… do you have a phone?”

“That would be a no and a yes.” He ran a hand across his hip, only to realize he didn't have it with him.

“That's fine.” You grabbed a marker from your pocket, and scanned the room for anything to write on.

You decided you'd rather not risk a catastrophe by grabbing a random piece of paper. Instead, this would work just as well. 

“Crud. Gepard, could I see your hand for a second?” He held out his right arm, the one with the gauntlet on it.

“The other one, silly!” You giggled. He complied.

The soldier flinched in surprise as you rolled back the sleeve on his left arm, holding his wrist with your other hand so you could press the ink onto his skin.

“You have my number now! Don't worry, it'll wash off pretty easily. Anyways, I'm looking forward to our outing tomorrow. I’ll see you then!” You said cheerfully.

“You as well," he called out to you as you rushed out the door. “Travel safely,” 

But then he froze. 

Wait just a minute. 

Isn’t Serval still banned from the Education Committee?

He pondered this thought for a moment, and then chuckled to himself. Well, now I know what that look was for,

2023 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

[azems-familiar]

well we're at 9.7k words on this chapter and i still have a couple scenes to go, although one of them is supposed to be short. uh...oops. at least chapter eleven should be shorter i think? unless i actually write the smut which i'm still not convinced about

[thewritegrump]

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with mhbv? / P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with mhbv?

Oh man, I have playlists for SO many fics. I pretty much always have one for whatever I'm working on at the moment, plus a general 'smut-writing jams' playlist that I go to for those kinds of scenes and fics. >v> I would share them, but my Spotify is linked to my actual irl name so... yeah, not gonna doxx myself publicly! ^^;;; I suppose I could just make a list of the songs in the playlists, but I don't think anyone really is interested enough to justify taking the time to do it.

I do still have the MHBV playlist. Well, there's two- one that has all the songs I took chapter titles from, and then the 'vibes' playlist I listened to while writing the chapters and songs that overall fit the themes and vibes. ovo I used to delete the playlists once I finished the fic, which I regret, but thankfully I stopped doing that. TTvTT

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"?

I don't know that I really identify with either, because the amount of planning I do in advance varies wildly based on the fic. Different projects demand different levels of forethought, honestly, so I'm not really an architect nor a gardener. Rather, I'm more of a chemist, perhaps veering toward something of a mad scientist about the writing process.

For a project like MHBV, Kaitra and I spent a week or two drumming up a 70-page outline. Granted, most of this is character interaction stuff, since the Karas in the fic all needed somewhat different personalities. Reading a fic about 15 carbon copies down to behaviors and personalities sounds confusing and boring as hell to me, so I sort of just made each one their own unique and easily identifiable variation. And so I needed to analyze these characters and figure shit out about them so I could write them properly. That's the bulk of the outline, with maybe 10 pages dedicated to the trials that actually further the plot. The slice-of-life things happening between murders is mostly off-the-cuff stuff I wrote on the spot once I tuned into the 'footage' (me playing the scenario in my mind as I'm writing it).

On My Mind had a completely different process. No outline, no notes document, no real planning aside from the loose concept a friend gave me. If you told me it would be a million words the day that I started it... I wouldn't believe you. o-o;;; God, what a wild 10 months that was. Anyway, OMM didn't have an outline until around Chapter 100, at which point I would write like... a sentence at most describing the main kink or event of the chapter. Stuff like 'chapter [x]: ichi and yana talk about what happened in june' or 'chapter [x]: choro and ichi yukata shopping'. Just real bare bones stuff to at least map out everything I wanted to include and find a definitive ending. Otherwise that fic would still probably be going, good lord.

In Another Life was a sort of middle ground. I write the outline like a continuous narrative summarizing the story, settling on stopping points once I arrive at the nearest one around 5k-7k words with each chapter. I delete the parts I've already written so I'm unsure how long the full outline would be, but at its longest it was about 10 pages, I think? It's rather short now, as I'm almost done with the fic. ^_^ I... need to get back to writing that. Oops. Anyway, if I had to estimate, I'd say about 22,000 (how fitting with the 22) since I write about 300 words of outline for each chapter and we're now in the early 70s with the chapter count.

With the collab I'm doing with Zils, I planned it similarly to IAL, though it was much shorter of an outline, since it's going to be 6 chapters. I also need to get back to this, because my brain has been bubbling with ideas for it. >v>;;;

Don't get me started on House Of Blue. o-o There's no so much an outline doc- well, there is a doc with all the chapters I plan to write, and Tira has her own separate document of the sort, I believe. But all the lore and the thought process and behind-the-scenes info is organized into channels on my Discord server since there is so goddamn much lore that hasn't even touched the fic on ao3 yet OOP. Me and my co-conspirators also have a lorekeepers group chat where we discuss stuff we want to keep between us four until it's time to unveil it in the fic. So it's all a bit scattered, but there is a great deal of brainstorming and planning.

So yeah, the amount of planning I do depends on the project, how intricate the plot is, how many details there are to remember...

[yoohoo-undead-unleashed]

Chapter Seven: Monster!

Roodee had been hard at work on his latest inventions.

He'd called everyone over once he'd finished them all, and this was sure to be the most efficient way to deal with the Undead.

"Whoa, I've never seen anything like this before," the bushbaby said as he handled the weapon.

"I'm not really sure what this thing is supposed to be, either, but I heard something in passing during our time on Earth about something called a 'gun'," the capuchin told him.

"Earth...?" The word sounded alien to her.

"Oh, we went through some other things before we met you, Orca," Pammee told her.

"Smells like dust," Chewoo mused, holding another weapon.

Lemmee sighed, not in exasperation, but admiration for his friend, even if he didn't want to admit it. "Oh, Chewoo... Never change."

"Would you want one, Orca?" YooHoo asked, offering her a crossbow.

"I'm good. I prefer fighting with more conventional means."

"O...okay..." That was a weird answer. "Hey, Roodee. Anything in that encyclopedia of yours that talks about the Soul Pots?"

"No, not really."

"So we really are gonna be going into this search for the Soul Pots blindly, and all we know for sure is that one of them is in the Death Forest," Lemmee said. "Unfortunately, I shouldn't complain since I assumed that from the start."

"How many of them should be there, anyway?" Chewoo asked.

"Not counting the Death Forest, probablyyy... about seven," Roodee guessed.

"Let's just get the closest one done first. Since we're close to the forest...not to be confused with the Death Forest, just so you know...let's get to its Soul Pot. Just to be safe," Pammee said.

Her friends nodded, and so they were off.

"Hoo boy... This is a game of concentration here," Lemmee huffed.

They were traveling through the trees, jumping from branch to branch in search of the Soul Pot from above.

"Hey, that tree looks a bit odd. It's like there's some sort of webbing on that branch." Roodee pointed at the tree in question.

Orca froze in place at the sight.

There was a bad feeling gnawing at her gut, and she knew they had to have done something with it.

"Let's take this one instead," she said, pointing at a different tree.

Nobody understood the sudden change of pace, but they all complied and took the jump.

Little did they know that this tree was also rigged by a trap.

Before they knew it, they were all hanging upside-down in a net, looking into the eyes of a pair of gators.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little twerp we tried to get rid of to sell her little forest for profit," the tall gator smirked.

"Too bad you two haven't learned to back off," she retorted.

"You let her run off with that dumb owl after you hit her, you know," the shorter one scolded him.

"It's your fault you didn't tell me to go after him!"

"How's it my fault?! I was telling you to, but you decided to waste your time telling me to shut up!"

As the group watched the gators bicker, YooHoo tapped Orca's shoulder.

"You know these two?"

They cut their argument short as they sharply turned their heads to see the other company they had.

"Why, who are these little potential customers for our wares?" asked the short one.

"I'm...sorry, what?" Lemmee deadpanned.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves!" the tall one said, striking a pose. "I'm Oops!"

"And I'm Koops!" the short one added, posing as well.

"And we serve the Big Boss in the search for the most valuable thing on this island: the Fountain of Youth!" they said together, choreographing an interjoined stance.

The air fell silent as they waited for a response.

Pammee cleared her throat.

"We shouldn't have done this," Koops muttered.

His brother nodded in agreement.

"'Most valuable thing on this island'? The Fountain of Youth?" Chewoo asked.

"Yeah, for money," Oops said.

"Sorry, but the fountain's not for sale!" Roodee cried, crossing his arms.

"Oh, really?" Koops questioned, a shady grin spreading across his face. "Who said it was, then?"

"Nobody, that's who!" Orca shouted, pointing accusingly at the two.

That was when YooHoo thought a thought. A mischievous thought. The kind of thought that would work in his favor for... let's just say toying with the gators.

"You know..." he said. "I might have an impression of you guys."

Oops raised a brow as the bushbaby cleared his throat.

What came out next was pure chaos.

"Hurr hurr, look at me, I'm an alligator, I wanna make money, so I'm gonna get the Fountain of Youth for myself!"

"Wh-what?" the gators sputtered in unison.

"YooHoo..." Orca warned.

Lemmee facepalmed.

"Oh! Oh! I wanna join!" Chewoo squealed, and chimed in. "I do this stupid little dance to advertise myself to customers with my brother, and I question everything about it!"

"Guys, stop."

"Aw, c'mon, Orca, it's fun, though! Look at them!" he said, pointing at the now-absolutely steaming duo, then resuming his plan. "My boss—"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Koops roared.

"You've messed with the wrong gators! Fortunately for us—and unfortunately for you—we've got just the thing to ensure we get our bank on the fountain!" Oops shouted. "Undead, attack!"

"Huh?!"

Almost as if on command, the creatures descended upon them, ripping them out of the net and taking hold of them.

"Damn it— Let go of me!" Orca shoved an Amoeba Zombie off of her, only to be placed in a chokehold by a Bandead.

"What a shame. we only wanted your help in our cause, yet you want to drag our values through the mud," Oops tsked. "Oh, well. With the Monsters on our side, we'll have this taken care of in no time. This island is going to be ours, and nobody else will be getting in our way."

"So you did this!" Lemmee cried as he struggled to break free.

Roodee had a plan, however.

He'd brought the hammer he used for making his inventions with him, along with his new weapon of choice, what he'd coined the Soul Shooter.

He raised it, intending to bring it down on an Amoeba Zombie's head—

"Hey! He's trying to escape!" Koops shouted. "MINOTAUR, KILL THEM!"

YooHoo's eyes widened as the ground shook with what appeared to be very heavy footsteps.

And they came quickly.

A blur slammed into the forest, shaking the earth even more as it made its landing in front of its summoners.

It looked like a large bull, with large, pitch-black horns that could skewer anything and anyone that got in its way, huge fists that could easily smash even the toughest of rocks, and ring piercings on both its ears and nose.

It growled as its brightly shining, crimson eyes focused on the much-smaller animals it was up against, building to a malicious, fearsome bellow as it raised its head skyward.

The gators laughed as the Minotaur ended its display of power.

"You see that? This is what a real Monster is like!" Oops boasted.

Orca growled as she continued to struggle herself out of the Bandead's grasp.

"Hey, maybe after we get the fountain, we could probably get to finishing what we started with her," Koops told his brother.

"Ooh, that's definitely a good idea!"

That set her over the edge.

Both the gators and her captor flinched as her body suddenly began to grow, transforming into a Monster in front of their eyes.

"Of course we had to forget about that," Oops whimpered.

The newly-transformed Orca snarled at the brothers, causing them to scamper off, but she wasn't going to let them get away easily, so she went after them in hot pursuit.

The Minotaur, now alone with its allies and prey, snorted as it lumbered closer to the captive animals.

They still had no way of getting out...

And already, they were to now prepare for the fight of their life.

[albertasunrise]

Day by Day - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (Shorter chapter but I hope you still enjoy! 🤣)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Frankie took things day by day. 

There was no other way. Here he was as a new father, having to navigate what should be the best time of his life without you. He was supposed to be doing this with you. The night feeds, the changes and the firsts were all supposed to happen with you beside him but instead, he had Will and Ben popping over on their free days just to give him a little extra support. 

No... This isn't how he'd expected this to go. 

After your funeral, he had found tooth and nail not to let himself spiral like he had when he'd left the army. You have been there to support him back then. Sat with him as he came down from his coke high and finally being the one to force him to choose between the drugs and those that he loved. Because of you, he had quit cold turkey with little or no help from anymore but you. 

He owed you his life.

Without you, he'd surely have been six feet under but now. So that's what made this all the harder to come to terms with. If anyone deserved to be dead for the choices they made it was him... Not you. 

Never you. 

You were all light and sunshine. You had made his life worth living. Given him something to fight for and now he was left without you to help guide him through this new journey. A journey that really you should have been leading. 

"Esme's down for her nap." Said Ben as he walked into the Kitchen, noting how Frankie was staring off into space "Fish?"

"Hmm?" The older man hummed and turned his head so he was looking directly at the younger Miller. 

"You okay man?" 

"Mhmm." He hummed in response and Ben sighed. 

"It's okay not to be ya know?" Ben stated as he walked over to the coffee machine to pour himself a mug "We all miss Titch but-"

"I said I'm fine Ben." Frankie growled as he got to his feet "I have to be!" 

"Titchy is so lucky to have you as a dad... She couldn't ask for a better one but it's okay to need help." Ben said as he placed his mug down and walked over to wear Frank was leaning against the counter "We will do everything we can to help you brother but you need to let us in." 

Frankie couldn't fight back the tears that threatened to fall. His dam was breaking and he didn't have the strength to keep the waters at bay any longer. 

"I just..." Frankie trailed off as he felt one stray tear fall. 

"You didn't expect you'd have to do this alone?" Ben asked and Fish nodded his head "Look I get it... Titch and you were meant to be, everyone could see that, and I can't even begin to imagine how you much be feeling right now but I want to help man... I need to do right by Titch." Ben choked "I loved her too." 

Frankie nodded before his head dropped and he allowed himself to sob openly. Benny pulled him into a tight hug, holding him as he allowed his own tears to fall and then after a short while they pulled back and gave each other a small nod. 

"You're not alone in this Fish." Ben repeated, "Titchy is going to be the most loved and spoilt little princess that ever lived!" 

"You're telling me! Will already has a giant stuffed panda arriving tomorrow." Frankie chuckled "Apparently he just 'couldn't help himself'... For such a big guy... Huge softy." 

"I have a confession to make..." Ben trailed off and Frankie's eyes narrowed as he waited for the younger man to elaborate. 

"I bought her a Giant giraffe!" 

Frankie laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It made Ben smile to see his friend genuinely smile and it made his heart swell to see it. 

"She's going to have a zoo at this rate!" 

...

Scaling the isles and balancing keeping his now two-month-old entertained whilst searching for the items on his list was quite the feat. It transpired early on that Esme did not like the supermarket. She started to well up the moment he laid her in the baby seat attached to the trolly and he had had to come up with imaginative ways to keep her happy as well as grab what he needed to feed himself. 

And today was no different. 

He was walking around pulling faces at his grumpy daughter whilst glancing down at the list and grabbing items as and when he spotted them. 

"Frankie?" His name being called pulled his attention away from the task at hand and to the voice's owner. 

Mary stood there, giving him a sheepish look as her eyes flitted between him and Esme. 

"How are you?" She asked as she braved another step forward, her hands wringing as she waited for his reply.

"I'm getting there." Frankie replied as he gave her a weak smile "Hard grieving the woman you loved whilst trying to raise a newborn baby." 

Mary gave him a grim nod, her eyes drifting to Esme again and she looked at her longingly a while before she returned her attention to him. 

"I've missed you." She started and Frankie sighed. 

"Mary I-" 

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." She interrupted and he stopped in his tracks "It was wrong of me to try and replace her... I just, I wanted to have that with you. Be a family. But I realise now that it was her all along." She sighed "And I don't blame you for it. You loved her and you lost her and I cannot even begin to imagine how you must be feeling but I just need you to know that I am here if you need a friend." 

"Just friends?" Frankie scoffed and Mary's eyes widened. 

"I mean it." She defended "I know that you and I aren't on the cards but I want to be there to support you if you need it! Help with the baby or just-" 

"I have the Millers for that but thanks." He stopped her, knowing that this conversation needed to stop "It was nice seeing you, Mary." 

"Nice to see you too Frank." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper "And you too Esme." She finished before waving at the baby and turning to leave. 

Leaving Frankie to dwell on what had just happened. 

He finished his shop. Successfully managing to avoid any tears and grab everything on his list. Paying for the items he then left the market, chatting away to Esme who was grinning up at him from where she lay. He then looked up in an attempt to spot where he had parked his car and stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there, smiling at him from across the parking lot. He was frozen to the spot as he watched your hand raise up and lay flat, inviting him to hold it. 

"Come back to me." You uttered, as your smile widened and then a car horn sounded beside him and his attention was torn away from you and to the car that was waiting for him to move out of the road. 

He quickly jogged forward before looking up again, his heart sinking when he found you weren't there anymore and then he shook his head as he remembered that it couldn't have been you. 

You were dead.

Esme's cries soon pulled him back to the real work and he was quick to sprint back to the car so that he could scoop her into his arms and attempt to soothe her as his own heart ached. 

"I'm sorry baby girl." He said as he rocked her in his arms "I'm sorry I just thought I saw someone." He choked, supporting her head so he could lean her back to place a kiss on her brow "It was just Papi seeing things." He finished before placing her in the car when she finally settled. 

After packing his truck, his eyes drifted to the spot where he had seen you standing. You had seemed too real. Like he could just reach out and touch you. Then his mind wandered back to what you'd said to him. 

Come back to me...

What did that even mean? 

...

2 weeks later... 

"Stop hogging the baby man!" Ben grumbled as he tried to pry Esmerelda from his brother's arms. 

"How am I hogging the baby?" Will scoffed, grinning at Frankie who watched the two men fawn over his daughter with amusement. 

"You've been cuddling her for like... the whole evening!" Ben whined, "I want Titchy snuggled." 

"Titchy?" Will Scoffed "Surely bubbles would be a more appropriate nickname for her." He chuckled as he looked at Esme who was blowing raspberries at a child sitting in the chair behind her. 

"I think Titchy suits her." Frankie defended, winking at Ben before his eyes locked onto someone familiar standing at the bar. 

"Well, I guess she is pretty teeny." Will stated as he finally relented and handed over the infant to his brother, grinning at the smile that filled her features as he took her into his arms "You're definitely her favourite." 

"Damn right." Ben agreed as he lifted Esme enough to blow a raspberry on her round tummy. 

"Fish?" Called Will when he noted how Frankie was staring off towards the bar, his eyes then following the man's to see what it was that he was looking at "See someone you recognise?" 

Frankie didn't answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the figure at the bar, his heart thundering in his chest when they turned around and your face came into view. You were in different clothes from the last time he'd seen you. Dark blue jeans and a cream linen shirt that made you look effortlessly beautiful. 

"Titch..." He mumbled, his eyes widening as yours locked onto his and then he was standing. 

"Fish... what the?-"

"Can't you see her?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of you as he straightened his spine and smiled sweetly at you. 

"See who?" Ben asked, his eyes then drifting to where his friend was looking. 

"She's right there." Franky choked as he started to take small steps towards you. 

"Who is?" Will demanded again as he stood up to follow his friend, grabbing Frankie's arm to stop him.

"Titch." Frankie growled as he turned his head back to look at him "Can't you see her?" He growled as he motioned at you. his chest heaving as he glared at Will. 

"She's not there Catfish." Will sighed and Frankie practically growled.

"Yes, she is! She's right..." He trailed off as he turned his head to see that you weren't there anymore "She was right..." 

"Maybe we should head home brother." Will said as he tried to steer Frankie back to the table. 

"I'm telling you she was right there!" 

"No one is there Francisco!" Will growled, the use of his full name taking Frankie by surprise "Titch is dead!" 

"I know that!" Frank yelled, his eyes welling up as he shrugged his arm out of Will's grasp "I know that okay it's just... I swear she was there... I saw her as clearly as I can see you." 

"Frankie we all see people we miss from time to time." Will sighed, giving his friend's arm a friendly squeeze "Doesn't mean they're actually there. 

"It's not the first time!" He defended "I saw her a few weeks ago at the market." 

"Frankie-"

"Don't believe me!" Fish growled, stopping Will in his tracks "But I know what I saw." He sobbed "I saw her..." He trailed off before grabbing his daughter off of Ben and making his way back to the car. 

Will and Ben hung back a moment, sharing a look of concern before heading out to catch up with him. He was their ride after all. They knew grief could manifest itself in strange ways but seeing you around seemed a bit extreme. Even for Frankie. 

... 

"Frankie?" 

Fish woke with a start, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he looked around the room for the source of that voice. 

"Frankie, can you hear me?" 

"Where are you?" He asked, his eyes wide and wild as he continued to scan the room for the source of that voice. 

The voice he was sure belonged to you. 

"Come back to me." I said and his heart was racing so much he was sure it couldn't be good for it. 

"Titch?" 

Screaming pulled his attention away from the mystery voice and he turned on the bedside lamp before rolling over towards where Esme lay in her side sleeping cot. 

"What's the matter princessa?" He asked as he pulled her to his bare chest " Hungry maybe?" He asked her as he shuffled down the bed so he could get up, grinning when she started to suck on the skin of his peck "Take that as a yes." 

He couldn't help but scan the room one more time before leaving it to make Esme her bottle. He was sure it was you. Sure as he could be that that voice had belonged to you and as he perched at the breakfast bar feeding his daughter, he dwelled on those four words you said to him again. 

Come back to me...

What did you mean by that? 

He wasn't the one that left. You were. 

So how could he go back to you? Surely you didn't mean what it sounded like? You wouldn't want him to leave Esme. You would want him to keep living for her if not himself. So why did you keep asking him to go back to you? 

It didn't make any sense. 

So when Emse was finished at tucked back into bed he lay down and decided it was time. 

He had to visit your grave. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[spaceorphan18]

Changed For the Better 8 [Klaine Advent Day 8]

Rating: S for Shenanigans Word Count: 2792 Summary: AU - Kurt’s a struggling actor living in New York, and is currently working on a Made-for-TV movie starring Cooper Anderson.

A/N: Written for Klaine Advent Day 8: Health

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

//

Changed for the Better - Part 8/24: Just the Way You Are

The first few days after Kurt came home were pretty refreshing.  He never thought he’d miss Ohio, and he didn’t really, but there was something nice about the wide open spaces, the slower pace, and the less complicated life his family led that helped put his mind at ease.   His dad welcomed him home, as always, with open arms, while Carole had a home-cooked meal ready for him.   They were up until much later than Burt or Carole were used to listening to Kurt’s stories about filming the movie he had been - Carole telling him that she’ll definitely record the movie once it aired.  

Kurt had three days of relative peace, no planned schedule, nothing to do but catch up on movies and magazines, and browse the music store looking for a good piece to sing for his audition for Blaine’s show.  He put his phone on silent, and spent time with his dad and Carole.  He’d be down in Ohio for three weeks, might as well get the best out of it - and ignore his regular life for a while.  

And then Finn and Marley showed up for dinner on the fourth day he was home. And as happy as it was to be with his brother again, one thing was clear -- it was wedding planning time.   He was ready.  He had his clipboard and his headset and a long list of plans he’d been thinking about before Finn and Marley had showed up.  He told Finn that he’d get started bright and early on everything.  

After dinner, Finn took him aside.  

“Kurt, I know you’re in charge of everything, and I trust you, I--we just have a few requests,” Finn said.  He took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket.  “The budget isn’t huge - we’re having the ceremony in that field past maple street.  The city said they wouldn’t even charge us or anything.  There’s a barn near by incase it rains. Burt even said he’d officiate.”

“Did he?” Kurt smiled.  His dad hadn’t told him that.  

“Yeah,” Finn said.  “Marley said she didn’t need a fancy church wedding, and with her being pregnant and all...just we don’t need anything big.  We’d like to have food that we know the place it came from and maybe just some folding chairs - maybe with Christmas lights as decorations.  We’re not picky about that.”

“Not picky about the chairs, huh?”

“Chairs don’t really matter.  Marley said the guests could sit on haystacks as long as we still go married,” Finn said.  Oh, she was a sweet one, wasn’t she, Kurt thought fondly.  “Anyway, the one thing Marley really wanted was for the flowers to be peonies.  She really likes peonies.”

“That’s perfect,” Kurt said, his eyes lighting up.  “Based on the bridesmaids’ dresses, I was going to go with a cobalt and amaranth theme, maybe a more pastel version, and peonies would be lovely.”  

Finn game him a confused look.  

“That’s the color scheme, Finn...don’t worry about it.”  

“Also, no birds pooping glitter,” Finn game him his serious look.  

Kurt stifled a laugh.  “You know, we’re not sixsteen anymore.”  

“I’m not cleaning up bird poop at my own wedding.”  

“Ah, you are a simple soul, Finn.”  

“There’s one more thing,” this time, Finn rubbed the back of his neck, the way he did when he was apprehensive about what he wanted to say.  “You’re not bringing Rachel as your date, are you?”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said.  He hadn’t even thought about it.  “I’m going alone.  Besides, Rachel’s okay, Finn.  I promise.”

“Oh, good,” Fnn said. “I mean, I wish Rachel well and all, and I wasn’t really worried about her, but I don’t want her at my wedding.  She’d be very high drama, and I think I’m better without that level of stress in my life.”

“Understandable.”

“You know what’s weird?”  Finn continued.  “I didn’t even think about her until Marley brought it up.  I mean, I was engaged to her, she was my whole world.  And I didn’t even remember she was on the planet.  Is that a mean thing to say? I don’t know.”

“It makes sense,” Kurt said - giving him a pat on the shoulder.  “Just because someone meant something to you then doesn’t mean they have to mean that to you now.  Besides - you seem happy Finn.  Sometimes the universe can send you things when you least expect it.”  

Finn looked relieved, and happy.  “Yeah, sometimes they do.”  

Finn looked past him, and to the kitchen, where Marley was helping Carole with the dishes.  Kurt knew that stupidly-in-love look anywhere.  And even though a little twinge of jealousy ran through him, he was glad for his brother -- who seemed at peace for the first time in a long time.

//

[Texts between Kurt and Blaine, two weeks before the wedding.]

Blaine: Hey! Can I get your email so I can send you info about the show.  And the audition?

Blaine: Hope all is going well with your family.

Kurt: Oh thanks!  hummelk527@gmail.com  

Kurt: Does your family ever make you question your mental health?

Blaine: My family’s Cooper.  What do you think?

Kurt: There is way more wedding drama than should be.  Apparently, about 100 more people want to be invited than Finn and Marley can handle - the cousins are coming out of the woodwork.  Carole’s sister arrived yesterday and has been in a constant state of drunkenness since she’s been here.  Oh, and Marley’s 2nd cousin is doing the cake.  I tried the muffins she sent us.  They were horrible.  The cake’s gonna be a monstrosity.  

Blaine: Well, at least you’re family wants to be a part of it.  I can’t remember the last time even my immediate family was in the same room, let alone over a hundred of us.  

Kurt: Well, true.  They’re just all driving me crazy.

Blaine: lol

Kurt: Oh! And my grandmother -- my grandmother who isn’t related to my brother or my future SIL biologically is insisting that she come.  She told my dad she wants to be a part of her step-grandson’s wedding because she doesn’t think I’ll ever get married.  I just can’t…

Blaine: Do you even want that? The whole wedding and a marriage stuff?

Kurt: I always said I’d be married by 30.  I always wanted a lavish wedding.  I know exactly how it’s going to go.  Groom was always a little fuzzy though.

Blaine: Ah, yes.  I used to have dreams about meeting a prince charming who’s sweep me off his feet and we’d have this fairy tale romance, you know?  Now, I think I just want someone I can picture growing old with, you know?  

Kurt: Yeah, that’s a nice thought.  Same.

Kurt: So, Finn wants to hire a local Journey cover band for the music.  How do I talk him out of this…

//

“Hey, Kurt, have a second?” Marley peaked her head out of the guest room of his dad’s house, and waved her hand for him to come in.  

“Sure,” Kurt said.  Marley kept the door mostly closed as he slipped in.  He knew why.  Her gorgeous wedding dress hung on the closet door.  They were keeping it at his dad’s house so Finn wouldn’t see it.  Marley, he found, was surprisingly superstitious about certain things - not wanting Finn to see the dress was one of them.  “What’s up?”

“There hasn’t been a real good time to do this, so I thought I would now,” Marley said.  She fished a check out of her pocket.  “It’s not much, but it’s Finn and my’s way of saying thank you.”

Kurt took the check, stunned.  “You guys really didn’t have to.  I had planned on doing it for free.”

He tried to give it back to her, but she pushed hand away.  “No, really.  These past few weeks have been--absolutely crazy.  But also wonderful.  And I wasn’t one of those people who needed a huge wedding, just someone that I wanted to be married to was fine enough.  But you’ve made it magical.  And please, take it.  Because there’s no amount of money can pay you back for what you’re giving me.”  She rubbed her belly a little, and smiled.   “The three of us really thank you.”

Kurt was utterly flattered.  “Well, you’re welcome.  It’s been a pleasure.  And weddings are always magical.”

Marley looked him over curiously.  “You know I had no idea that you were a romantic, Kurt Hummel.  I’ll admit, when Finn first said you’d help with the wedding, I thought he was joking.”

“Well, there’s a silly romantic underneath the hard, cynical shell,” Kurt said.  “It just doesn’t come out much.”

“Well, it should,” Marley said.  “I like it.  There’s something else, too.”  She went to the dresser, and pulled a piece of sheet music from the top drawer.  “I wrote a song, for Finn, for us.  And I was wondering if you were open to singing it for our dance.”

“Oh, Marley,” Kurt said, astounded.  “I’d be honored.”  

“Thanks! I’d sing it myself, but I don’t know if I could get through it.”  

“Are you nervous?” Kurt asked.  “About all of this, I mean.”

“No, not really,” she replied.  “Maybe about ripping my veil or not showing up on time.  But about marrying Finn? We’re already married.  It just feels like it’s making it official.  And having a big party to celebrate.”  She took a seat on the bed.  “You know, I remember when we first met.  It was at school and one of the other teachers thought it would be a great idea to give the kids sparklers -- while we were inside.  And I was in the process of trying to round the kids up when Finn showed up -- having dropped something off to the principal.  And he stepped in to help -- just as the sprinkler system went off.  The sparklers went out, and we had two dozen screaming, wet children, and he just -- handled it.  Our lives don’t get much more dangerous than that -- sparklers inside.  But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  He’s going to make an excellent father.  And that’s more important to me than the actual wedding.”

Kurt’s heart twinged.  The old romantic that had tried very hard to bury kept rising to the surface.  “Yeah, I think you guys will be okay.”

//

[Texts between Kurt and Blaine, one week before the wedding.]

Blaine: This show is becoming a disaster.  

Kurt: Oh?

Blaine: Yeah.  Cooper insists on having a role.  I just spent an hour listening to a debate on colors for blazers - blue with red piping or red with blue piping.  An hour! And June is insisting we change half the script.  We can’t change half the script - it would completely delude the meaning of the story.  Help!

Kurt: Okay.  Tell Cooper he can play a statue that’s intensely pointing - he’ll be good at that.  

Kurt: Blue with red piping - it’s classier, and will go better with my skin tone.  

Kurt: And give June a fake script and keep her out of rehearsals.  Once the show opens, there won’t be anything she can do about it.

Blaine: You are amazing.

Kurt: I know.

Kurt: The show’s going to be great!  

Blaine: Sometimes I wish I was just a performer.  Someone else can make all the decisions.  

Kurt: That’s why you put all this hard work in now.  Then someday, you’ll have all the people working under you make the decisions and you can do as you please.  

Blaine: Well, then I look forward to some day having you under me.

Blaine: I meant professionally.

Kurt: You couldn’t afford me.  

Kurt: Besides, who’s to say that someday I won’t have you under me?

Kurt: I mean, I do plan to have all of you working for me some day.

Kurt: ;)

Blaine: You’re diabolical.  

Kurt: Some would call that cleverness.

//

The day of the wedding came all too quickly.  And for all their planning, it was crazed and chaotic as any wedding could be.  Still, with the exception of a few minor things, there were always a few minor things, the wedding went off relatively seamlessly.  It helped that the weather cooperated, and it was sunny and warm with a slight breeze.  The ceremony was lovely, Marley was beautiful and glowed as she walked down the aisle, and Finn was the most composed and adult-like Kurt had ever seen him.  

Afterwards was pictures, and then everyone making their way to the reception.  Kurt sang the opening song, the one Marley had written as a surprise for their first dance.  Finn was so touched he began to cry as they had their first dance.  Kurt felt the song in his bones, a song about deep love, and companionship, and imperfectly perfect.  

A good while into the reception, Kurt took a seat at one of the back tables.  There were scatter plates of half eaten cake on them, half drunk champagne glasses, and the tablecloth had been marked up by blue crayon.  At least it matched the peonies, he thought with a laugh.  

His dad was sipping a beer, leaning back in his chair, watching the chaos out in the room.  Kurt had his wine glass, and sipped from it quietly.  It was nice to be on the outside of the madness for a few minutes.  

“You did a lovely job, Kurt,” his dad said.  Burt didn’t turn his head, but Kurt could hear the pride in his voice.  

“Well, I try,” Kurt said.  Another sip of wine, and he was becoming relaxed.  It was nice.  

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” Burt said.  He gave Kurt a long look.  “Something on your mind?”  

“No, no,” Kurt assured him.  “I’m just taking it all in.”  

“Thinking about your own wedding, huh?” His dad gave him a wink.  

Kurt wasn’t as sure as he once was.  “I don’t think that’s going to happen -- not unless I decide to marry myself.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Burt said.  His dad was cheerier than usual - probably the beer taking over.  “You’re still so young.”

“You were younger than me when you met mom.”

“And twice your age when I met Carole.”

Huh.  He had never thought about it that.  

“Age doesn’t mean anything, Kurt.  Just a number.”

Kurt swirled his wine.  He’d be going home soon, and a lot of things to confront when he got back.  “Sometimes I wonder if I’d have been happy if I had married Adam.”

Burt gave him an odd look.  “Would you have been?”

“You didn’t like Adam?”

Burt considered his words carefully before he spoke.   “Adam was perfectly fine.  But more importantly, I’m happy with however you’re happy.  But you know, kiddo, you’re the only one who can do that.  No one’s gonna make you happy if you’re not happy with yourself.”  

“Adam wants to get back together,” Kurt said.  It was the first time he brought it up with anyone -- anyone other than Blaine all those weeks ago.  It felt nice to say it out loud - and he knew his dad was a good choice to turn to.  

“Ah,” Burt said, nodding, as if expecting it.  “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted.  His mind wandered not to Adam but to Blaine.  Blaine, who he had spent the last three weeks texting.  Blaine, who he felt like he had known so long and it had only been a month.  Blaine who he was wishing was there with him now.   And for a second he thought of when he and Blaine met, Blaine looking so handsome in that tux.  “I thought maybe I did.  But then, life sometimes throws you unexpected sparklers inside.”

“How many glasses of wine have you had?”

“I’m fine dad,” he said.   Maybe his heart knew what it wanted, but his head was just slow.   “I’m just -- thinking about what I have to face when I go back to reality.  I just have some choices to make.”

“Well,” Burt said.  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have my reservations about the whole thing.  But you’re your own man, an adult now, and I encourage you to make your own decisions.  And I’ll support you.  If Adam is what makes you happy -- then fine.  If it’s some other guy, then that’s fine, too.  And if you really want to marry yourself? Well, I’ll be honest, that one is a little weird.  But I’ll be right there at your wedding if that’s what you want.”

Kurt burst out laughing, then placed his head on his dad’s shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh.  His dad always had a way of making him feel better.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too kiddo.”

[inkwell-intrigues]

TSTS Annoucement

I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Like, I always knew it could happen -I remember seeing this happen to a bunch of fanfiction writers when I was a kid- but it really sucks.

So, I'm crazy burnt out from writing AND Cuphead has stopped being my current hyperfixation. (I'm also on different medications now- which probably doesn't help.)

Even the thought of Cuphead right now gives me pretty bad stress, because of how far behind I've fallen in writing The Strength and The Sight.

I know I made a post literally a few weeks ago saying that I was back and all that stuff, but... After I sat down and started trying to write I began to realize that not only was I badly burnt out, but also The Strength and The Sight's plot/focus/etc has changed multiple times during the process of me writing it. This has led to a LOT of inconsistencies in terms of the plot, character arcs, and in general, the pacing ended up being all over the place because of it. 

For instance, Chalice is supposed to be one of the main characters, but her role in the story has changed a bunch AND I ended up focusing on her a lot less than characters who were supposed to be side characters- like Ginette. (I love Gin, I swear, but she wasn't supposed to be as big of a focus as she ended up being. -That mainly came about from me getting super obsessed with her character and forgetting my other characters- In multiple chapters, she even overshadows the brothers. Oops. xD)

This all has led me to realize: Even if I wasn't burnt out- I simply cannot continue writing a story that I know has inconsistencies. 

So, does this mean that The Strength and The Sight is over? No. No, it does not.

This post is me announcing that I will NOT be taking a break or canceling the story in the traditional "burnt-out fanfic writer" sense. Instead, I will be REWRITING the entire story- starting with outlining the plot from the beginning in lots of detail and sticking to the plot I set.

This rewritten version will be filled with full-color illustrations, more focused, and A LOT shorter. While mulling over the idea of a rewrite, I realized just how needlessly long TSTS has become. Like, the book which I use as a reference and inspiration, Scythe by Neal Shusterman, is only 102k words, while mine- which is not even halfway done- is 114K. (There are a lot more examples of my word count v.s. other books, but I won't bore you all with those numbers.)

BUT, I don't want to leave you guys in the dark while I begin this intense process of rewriting TSTS. So, instead, I want to continue posting on this current fic as a sort of "journal" of my progress. I know a lot of you guys are writers yourselves, so this could be a super cool opportunity for you guys to see my process and learn some tips and tricks along the way.

My long-term goal is to post a probably 100% finished redone version of The Strength and The Sight when The Cuphead Show is renewed and the new season releases on Netflix. (I'm manifesting so hard, IT WILL BE RENEWED I KNOW IT) Or I'll try and release it if/when Studio MDHR releases another Cuphead thing/game. Whatever comes first.

Until then, I'll be using this as my progress journal. I'll be posting rough sketches (because I'll also be doing updated illustrations!), rough outlines (with redacted spoilers, lol), and more! 

I know this is probably really disappointing. I'm kicking myself quite a bit here and wishing I'd been able to finish TSTS before I got burnt out, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. My hope is that TSTS will be a much better and higher-quality novel because of this rewrite.

Thank you for your patience and I'm truly sorry for all the delays. I promise that I'll do everything I can to make The Strength and The Sight worth the wait.

-- Your Friend, Inkwell Intrigues

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter four

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: God, I love this fic. I’ve already written almost 60k words for it. The bad news is that those words are all in the middle, and technically there’s a huge gap between this chapter and most of what I’ve written...oops? But don’t worry, the hyperfixation is still going strong! 

Series Masterlist

word count: 4304

But Matt had no idea that, a handful of hours later, Grace would come face to face with Daredevil.

Grace was having a good day despite the phone call with her mother, so of course it was only a matter of time before things came crashing down. 

It was her fault, she supposed in a brief moment of clarity, for not taking the taxi all the way back to Ryan and Jess’s. She hadn’t wanted anything to lead back to Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that Dean’s influence reached far, and she wouldn’t put it past him to have someone monitoring taxi companies. So even though she had paid in cash, she’d had the cab driver stop just outside of the neighborhood so she could walk the rest of the way. 

But she’d also stayed too late in the bookstore, her bag now weighed down with five battered paperbacks, and night had thoroughly fallen in the city by the time she had decided to head back. 

That was her fault too–she already was trying to spend as little bit of time as possible in her car at night. So she’d stayed out later than she should have and, well…

Well, now she was being cornered by three men. 

The first man had catcalled her from the stoop of a building. She’d casually crossed to the other side of the street, just in case. Then the second man appeared from the shadows. One followed her on each side of the road, hemming her in, cutting off escape. 

She cursed quietly to herself and took the next turn. She’d go around if she had to, take the long way home. 

That was when the third man had stepped out, right in front of her, pretending to bump into her while the other two caught up. 

As soon as she realized what was happening, she darted into an alley. And of course her luck had continued to worsen–it was a dead end. Her heart kicked into high gear as she realized she was thoroughly trapped. She still had the knife, but it was buried at the bottom of her bag along with her keys and anything else that could be used as a weapon. She didn’t have time to dig it out, though she shoved her hand inside her bag anyways and started to feel around. 

Grace was accustomed to fear, but only when it came to Dean. She’d never known when the violence was coming with him. It had always come unexpectedly. 

Knowing it was coming was so much worse, she decided. 

Especially because she had a feeling that they weren’t just going to hit her. 

“Think you can just ignore me?” the first man, the one who had catcalled her, said as he prowled closer. He was shorter than the others but much more muscular. She saw a thick scar on one side of his neck. 

“I don’t have any cash,” she said softly, proud of how steady her voice was. 

“She thinks we want her money,” the man said over his shoulder to the two others. They all laughed. 

Grace thought she was about to be sick. Maybe that’d be a good distraction, she thought distantly. Throwing up on their feet. Maybe it’d even put them off enough to stop them from getting what they wanted. 

She refused to think the word. 

She gripped her bag more tightly and watched as they slowly got closer and closer. Her heart was in her throat. 

“Come on, baby, let’s have a little fun,” said a second man, taller and thinner than the one closest to her. His eyes were half-closed. He licked his lips. Grace shuddered at the sight. 

“I don’t really feel like having fun,” she said but the words came out strangled. 

The first man lunged. Her head cracked back against the bricks. Pain exploded behind her eyes. 

Fight, she told herself, making herself remember all of the classes she’d taken for a situation like this. Fight back! 

Because she was used to pain. Used to maneuvering with fuzzy vision. Used to working around what hurt. 

The man popped a couple of buttons on her work shirt. Finally, her mind caught up and she swung her fist. It connected with the man’s jaw with a sharp, satisfying crack. She hit him again before he could recover. Her knuckles split and pain lanced up her arm, but it was worth it. 

It felt good to be the one throwing punches for once. It felt good to fight back. 

The man cursed and swung clumsily. Grace ducked under his arm and tried to run, but the other two men grabbed her and hauled her back. 

She screamed, long and loud. It tore out of her throat and burned on the way out but there was no way anyone passing by couldn’t have heard it. 

“Shut up,” one of the men snapped. He slapped her across the face so hard she tasted blood. Two of them held her by her upper arms. She struggled with all of her might, vision darkening at the edges, her feet lifting off the ground as she fought against them. 

There was a muffled thump, so quiet she barely heard it, but it was enough to change the entire atmosphere in the alley. Everything went still and quiet. 

“Oh fuck,” one of the men breathed. They released her so suddenly that she fell right on her ass on the concrete. 

Grace scrambled to her feet.

There, at the end of the alley and wreathed in yellow light from the streetlights beyond, was a man. 

Not a man. 

A devil. 

The three men who had seconds before been trying to hurt her were now backing away. All three of them had their hands raised as if in surrender. 

They were scared shitless of whoever or whatever was at the end of the alley. 

He was dressed in dark red. As he tilted his head, Grace saw the two small horns adoring the mask that covered most of his face. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the men said. They were still backing up, putting Grace between them and the devil. But there was no way out–not for them, and not for her, either. 

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” the devil said. His voice was a low growl, all gravel and smoke and rough edges that screamed danger. Grace shuffled back a step, twice as afraid as she had been minutes before. At least she had known what to expect with the three men. They had wanted violence and she had understood that perfectly. This man or creature or whatever he was was utterly unknown, foreign and all the more fearsome because of it. 

“We’re just–having some fun,” said another of her attackers. His voice was pitched high with pure fear. 

The devil started stalking slowly towards them, a predator toying with its prey. 

Run! Grace’s instincts screamed. But there was nowhere to run. The alley was a dead end. The only way out was past this dangerous man with the devil’s countenance. Every line of him was dangerous. 

They were all trapped. 

The devil struck. 

Grace couldn’t help the scream of terror that erupted. She threw herself down, arms over her head, cowering away from this man who looked like he could and would kill her. 

But the blow never came. Instead she heard muffled grunts, cracks of bone, the sounds of a fight happening right behind her. 

Grace used the distraction to make a run for it. One of her attackers went sailing past her. He thumped against the side of a dumpster and slid down, unconscious, maybe even dead. She couldn’t tell the difference. 

Another of the men–the short, muscular one who’d ripped her shirt–went running past. He shoved her out of the way as he went, knocking her to her knees. They barked with pain as she scraped them on the asphalt. 

There was a blur of red, Grace rolling out of the way at the last second, and then the devil was hauling the man backwards by his collar. 

Grace heaved herself up from the ground. She darted back the other way but tripped over something on the ground. She managed to catch herself in time before she went sprawling to the ground again. It was the tall, skinny one who had licked his lips. He was unconscious, splayed out on the ground, a trail of blood trickling across his face. 

Was he dead, too? 

The devil was holding the first man by the scruff of his neck when Grace turned around. 

“Did they hurt you?” he said in that low, rough voice. The sound of it was like sandpaper on her skin. She shivered at the sensation. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps. 

Her attacker was shaking his head but the devil’s grip was unrelenting. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” Grace whispered. Her whole body trembled with fear. She was starting to think that maybe she shouldn’t have ever come to Hell’s Kitchen. It seemed like there were much, much worse things on the streets than Dean Bennett. 

“I only hurt bad people,” the devil said. He sounded almost…offended. “Did these men hurt you?” 

Grace took a breath to steady herself but didn’t answer. She couldn’t. 

The devil tilted his head down to the man he was holding. “Did you hurt her?” He shook the man roughly. 

The man’s hands scrabbled for purchase, legs scratching against the asphalt as he tried to get free. “No, no I swear, we were just having some fun! That’s all!” 

“Lie,” the devil growled. “Try again and tell me the truth this time. Trust that I’ll know if you lie. Did you hurt her?” 

The man choked on a sob. Even from several feet away, Grace could see the devil’s gloved hand tighten on the back of the man’s neck. The man cried out, then relented. “Yes! Alright, yes, we were going to hurt her! She hit her head and Joel slapped her around but that’s it, I swear!” 

“What were you going to do to her?” the devil asked. That low growl sent another shiver down her spine. 

“We were just going to rob her, that’s all!” 

“Stop lying.” The devil’s free hand struck the man’s head. 

He cried out. “We were gonna share her!” 

Another animalistic growl from the devil that had Grace’s heart hitching. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. 

“You were going to rape her,” the devil said. He spat out the words like a curse. 

The man’s next words were choked off as the devil wrapped his other hand around his throat, hauled him up, and smashed him against the bricks. The man’s feet barely touched the ground as the devil snarled something into the man’s face, too low for Grace to hear. He was holding the man up with one hand fisted in his shirt and his other forearm braced against the man’s neck. Grace could see, even with the suit, that the devil was all powerful muscle. A predator, through and through. 

The man whimpered and then the devil was hitting him, over and over and over, even after the man’s body went limp. 

Finally, the devil let the man drop to the ground. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. 

“You’re safe now,” he said, the rough edges of his voice a little softer now. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” 

Grace was still trembling. “Who–who the fuck are you?” she finally managed to choke out. 

She thought maybe he frowned. He turned more fully towards her. “You don’t know who I am?” 

She couldn’t help her snort, though it was edged in hysteria. “Obviously not. I’m not–I’m not from Hell’s Kitchen. I just moved here.” 

The devil made a thoughtful noise in his throat. The sound humanized him, made her realize he was a guy in a suit, not an actual devil. “They call me Daredevil. I look out for people around here.” 

The name rang distant bells in her head. But the impact against the bricks, or maybe the adrenaline in her system, made it hard to pin down exactly why the name rang those bells, why it seemed familiar. 

“I–” She wasn’t yet convinced that he wasn’t going to hurt her. But he stayed still, several feet away from her. He’d taken out three grown men with ease. Men who’d been scared shitless of him. The men who had almost–she still didn’t think the word–they had known who this devil was, had been scared of him. He could have hurt her several times over already, but he hadn’t. “Thank you,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. The words were stilted on her tongue from her unease. 

Daredevil tilted his head to the side. “You’re bleeding,” he said softly. He stepped forward. It was pure instinct for her to stumble back a step in answer. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I swear.” The sound of ripping velcro. He slid one of his gloves off. “I’m just a guy,” he said as he stepped closer. Grace held herself utterly still even as her heart thrummed with fear and something else she couldn’t name. “Let me check. Please.” 

Slowly, so slowly she could have run if she’d wanted to, Daredevil eased forward until his bare fingers gently took her chin. He inspected her head, lightly probing where it had hit the wall and where her split lip was bleeding. Grace barely breathed. 

Up close, she could see the deep maroon color of the armor he was wearing. It looked almost like kevlar or leather or some combination of the two. His mask was, indeed, devilish, the eyes made of glinting red glass that seemed familiar, somehow. 

“How hard did you hit your head?” he murmured. Grace shivered again and was finally able to name that other emotion, tangled up tightly within the fear. 

Fascination. 

“I didn’t black out, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. His bare hand was gentle if a bit calloused. The longer he stood there, quietly inspecting her injuries, the more convinced her body became that he wasn’t actually going to hurt her. She could see, too, that he was holding himself very carefully away from her. Even though he was close, he had made sure to put space between their bodies, made sure not to crowd her. 

“Good,” he said. “You should probably ice it, to be sure. If you feel any nausea or–” 

Grace interrupted with a small smile. “I’ve been concussed before, don’t worry. And I have–have roommates.” It was a half-truth. She didn’t live with Ryan and Jess and Max, but they were close enough that it counted. “They can check on me.” 

“You should get home,” Daredevil said with a dip of his chin. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” 

A spike of fear at the words. “You’re–you’re going to follow me home?” She wasn’t sure if she was more nervous that a man dressed as the devil would know where she lived or that he would see that she lived in a car. 

This seemed to take him aback. “I…realize how that sounds now.” A soft laugh escaped him that eased her nerves even further. “No, I won’t follow you home. I promise. I’ll just…keep an ear out.” 

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” she said but her tone was light. The more the fear drained away, the stronger her fascination grew. Was that normal, she wondered, to immediately trust someone dressed as he was? Or was it some sort of trauma response, something broken within her brain? “How do I know you won’t follow me?” 

“You don’t,” he said. “But I swear I won’t.” He moved back a step and tugged his glove back on. “Ice that,” he said. 

“I will.” Grace stared at him a minute longer, then started down the alley. She paused just before she stepped out into the light of the street. “Thank you,” she said and turned to face the devil once more. 

But he was gone. 

– 

The next morning Grace woke with a splitting headache. The lack of decent sleep had only made it worse, she was sure. She’d first had to explain her injuries to a very concerned Jess, then had taken a long shower, then spent three hours laying in her car searching for everything there was to be found about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

All of that, her late night on top of the lingering imprint of the bricks in that alleyway, made her feel like she was having the worst hangover in existence. 

Somehow, she made it to work. She was slightly early again, mostly because her headache had woken her up before her alarm. 

Matt Murdock had beat her there again. 

“I thought I might see you in here early again,” he said after she announced herself. He held out the same black mug she’d used the day before, his own chipped mug in his other hand. He was already out of his suit jacket, tie already loosened. She tiredly thought that she liked when Matt Murrdock was a little rumpled.

“You’re my favorite,” she said with a sigh as she took the warm mug between her hands. 

“Me or the coffee?” Matt said, eyebrows raising above his red-tinted glasses. 

“Oh, the coffee, definitely,” she said with a laugh. “Thanks, by the way.” She quickly fixed it with cream and sugar and took a sip. 

“Long night?” Matt said as he took a sip of his own coffee. He seemed content to lean against the wall while she unpacked her bag for the day. 

“Yeah. When were you guys going to tell me about Hell’s Kitchen’s vigilante?” she said. Did she imagine it, or did Matt choke a little? He went almost unnaturally still. 

The door to the office burst open and Foggy came striding in. “Good morning, Grace St. James!” he said cheerfully. “Oh, and Matt.” 

Grace laughed even as she winced at how loud his voice was. “Am I in trouble?” she asked. 

Foggy was rooting around in the cabinets in the kitchenette. “Huh? Trouble?” 

“You said my full name. Made me think I was in trouble or something.” She shrugged and sipped more of her coffee. 

“Oh!” Foggy laughed. “No, I just like how it sounds, I guess.” 

Matt was shaking his head and smiling into his mug. 

“So, what’d I miss?” Foggy asked as he dumped coffee grounds into the coffee maker. “Why is everyone showing up early all of a sudden? What is this, a professional workplace?” 

“I was just asking Matt when you all were going to warn me about the vigilante running around,” Grace said as she set her laptop on her desk. She pressed the power button. The display was still dim from her late night searches. She turned the brightness back up to daytime levels. 

There was no mistaking it–Foggy did choke. He coughed to try and cover up the sound. 

“Uh–Well, I honestly thought you knew,” he finally said as the coffee maker started percolating. 

“I didn’t have any idea,” Grace said. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not from Hell’s Kitchen, remember? The vigilante definitely wasn’t in the welcome packet.” 

“Yeah, but–He’s kind of famous. Helped take down Fisk and all that. Twice. Saves people, helps the little guys, etcetera.” Foggy shrugged. He shot a look towards Matt, who still hadn’t moved from his position leaning against the wall. 

“Wasn’t that you guys? Fisk?” Grace had searched the law firm before applying and that was their most famous case–putting Fisk behind bars. His second arrest, the FBI had been involved, but they’d still helped from what the internet said. 

“Well,” Foggy said, his cheeks reddening. “The first time for sure. But Daredevil, you know, he helped us figure some stuff out and helped catch Fisk when he escaped…all that stuff.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Foggy hates to brag,” Matt said. “He doesn’t like showing off all the hard work he did with all of that.” Foggy shot Matt a grateful look. 

Grace studied the two of them. Foggy poured a cup of coffee before the machine finished then chugged it like his life depended on it. 

They were interrupted by Karen’s arrival. She seemed relatively cheerful, too, though much less loud than Foggy. 

“What’s going on?” Karen asked as she hung her jacket and purse up. She swept her tousled blonde hair over one shoulder. “Looks like I’m missing a meeting or something.” She smiled. It was so full of warmth that Grace returned it unconsciously. 

“Grace was asking us about Daredevil,” Matt said. His eyebrows went up, peeking over the lenses of his tinted glasses. 

Karen paused. “Daredevil? What about him?” 

Grace felt herself flush. The attention of all three of them was focused on her. “I didn’t know about him,” she said again. “Figured someone maybe could have warned me there was a vigilante running around.” 

“Why?” Karen said as her attention sharpened. “Did you…see him?” She and Foggy shared a glance. She wondered if they were all friends with the vigilante or something, since he’d apparently helped them get rid of Fisk. They seemed…protective, almost. 

“Yeah. I was…almost mugged last night. He saved me.” Grace chewed the inside corner of her lip. She didn’t want to say what had actually almost happened. She was still pushing that down and away to be examined at another time. 

“He saved my life, too,” Karen said. “Years ago. More than once.” 

“Really?” Grace perked up. She hadn’t encountered any of that in her digging the night before. There was a ton of information about him out there, though. Think pieces, police reports, headlines of lots of newspapers, some written by Karen. But none of them had mentioned him saving Karen. There had been a whole section on a fake Daredevil, a man named Ben Poindexter who had apparently dressed like him and killed a bunch of people. There was even a forum for people to report sightings of him where they also posted stories of being saved. 

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Karen lifted one shoulder in a shrug. But she was smiling. “We’re fans, to say the least. Are you okay, by the way?” 

“Did you get a good look at who attacked you?” Foggy added. Matt remained silent. 

“I’m fine, really. Like I said, Daredevil saved me. Got there just in time.” Grace snorted as she remembered her scream as the vigilante had charged. “He scared the shit out of me, though. Like I said–I had no idea someone like that was running around. Some guy dressed in red leather with devil horns showed up out of nowhere then ran at me. I thought I was going to die for a second.” 

Karen smothered a small laugh into her hands while Foggy sighed. 

“Yeah, he has that effect,” Foggy said. “I think the horns are meant to intimidate, or something.” 

“He was nice though,” Grace said. She thought of his gentle touch on her face. How he’d reassured her over and over, talked carefully to her so she wouldn’t be afraid. “Once I realized he wasn’t, you know, about to send me to Hell.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Matt said softly. 

They were saved from further conversation by two cell phones ringing in tandem. Karen and Foggy both stepped into their offices to answer the calls while Matt remained where he was. 

“You should get some pepper spray or something,” he said softly. 

“I took self defense classes. I actually punched one of the guys last night in the face a couple of times.” She didn’t know why she felt defensive. 

The line of Matt’s jaw went taught. His knuckles were white around his coffee mug. “You have to be careful,” he said after a minute. “Self defense classes are great and all, but what if Daredevil hadn’t shown up?” 

Grace swallowed and looked down, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. He was right, she knew, but it still stung. She didn’t want to be seen as weak and incapable anymore. She’d spent years of her life filling that role with Dean. It was one of the reasons she’d liked the self defense classes so much. And it had felt good to hit those men who were trying to hurt her, even though they had overpowered her easily. At least she’d fought back. 

Several defensive retorts passed over her tongue but she bit them all back. Matt meant well. And he probably knew, better than anyone, what it felt like to be defenseless, to have to be extra careful. “I’ll order something online,” she finally said. 

Matt nodded slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said again, more firmly. 

Thankfully, the firm had a busy day and there was no more talk of Grace’s adventures the night before. She wanted to pester Karen with questions about the vigilante, but never had a chance. 

By the time the work day was over, Grace’s head felt like it was splitting in two, and even four cups of coffee was doing nothing to help keep her awake. 

She half-stumbled back to Ryan and Jess’s, waving off the offers for someone to walk with her. It wasn’t that far from the firm, after all, and it wasn’t even dark yet. 

Ryan and Jess were both busy, Max with his grandparents, so Grace was able to languish in the shower for a little longer than normal. By the time she was done and ready for bed, it was dark out. She crawled into her car, bone-tired, and fell asleep much more quickly than usual, not even bothering with dinner. 

That night, she dreamt of red glass eyes and bruised knuckles and calloused fingertips.

Next Chapter

taglist: 

@zaminoo @yanna-banana @thetrinitytest​ @bellal1 @harry-bowie-mercury​ 

[loathemetc]

Deltarune Theory: Great Balls of Fire

An interesting note I just came across. In an interview for the release of Deltarune Chapter 1 on Nintendo Switch, Toby Fox says that, quote:

I was going to give a certain character a fire spell, but decided against it for the first chapter.

As much of the possibility of Susie breathing fire is a fun one, I feel like this is definitely about Ralsei. His resemblance to the fire-throwing boss monsters of Undertale is enough of a hint already, but...

Ralsei’s concept art seems to depict a fireball on his tunic, instead of the heart he currently bears. Looks like a fireball to me anyways. I mean it could be some unused version of a story important symbol I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s a fireball.

Toby specifically says here that he decided against this for the first chapter, not in general. So it seems like Ralsei may be learning a fire spell later on. 

The thought of him picking it up from Undertale’s known fire-throwing goat Toriel after her Chapter 3 Dark World adventure comes to mind, though I’m not exactly sure how or why that would happen. After all...

Why would our pacifistic white mage who hates violence pick up a purely offensive spell? Well, he already shows signs of folding if you push for a more violent path. 

Defeating Spamton NEO with violence earns you the Puppet Scarf, which massively nerfs Ralsei’s magic (and therefore healing) in return for higher attack. When equipped, Ralsei begrudgingly accepts that the path of violence is the one you’re leading the party down. 

It would be interesting if Ralsei only learned an offensive spell if you kept taking down major foes with violence, or possibly on the weird route but in that case (so far) Ralsei hasn’t actually been present for so much of the violence. Even if he knows about it. I do have a feeling that if Ralsei’s going to learn this spell, he’s going to learn it no matter what I’m not sure it’ll be a route through the game exclusive thing but. Could be interesting if it was.

This was supposed to be a lot shorter but I started spitballing again. Oops.