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The Trouble with Bread and Neighbors

Summary:

After accidentally offending his new neighbor by offering bread, Charlie was certain of two facts in his life. He, Charlie, had become a target. And neighbor Xavier might be the death of him.

A/N: Hello Love and Deepspace Friends!!! This is a little (Crack) fic for those of us who felt bad for Charlie getting Xavier's pouty wrath. Please enjoy!

Charlie had decided to move to Linkon City for the good of his business and for the good of his overall health. After years of “messing up” his life, he had finally saved enough to open his own bakery in town.

It was meant to be a fresh start.

His friends even encouraged the move, praising the area for its friendly citizens and for being well-protected by hunters.

Yet somehow, poor Charlie had blundered his chance for that experience on his first day.

To be fair, he didn’t recall saying anything particularly insulting to the scarily tall white-haired hunter. Was offering free bread to neighbors crossing a line in Linkon? It was advertising.

And the hunter refused his own batch too!

Not to mention, the frosty rejection when Charlie invited MC to tour bakeries in the area.

From that moment forth, the memory of Xavier’s tone always sent chills down Charlie’s neck, his tacit threat veiled by a polite smile and courteous words. The baker contemplated making amends more than once--though he wasn’t sure for what. Ultimately, he decided not to further entangle their complicated start.

That was until the fated day when his doorbell rang…

With his apartment still half unpacked, Charlie hadn’t received any visitors at home yet, and his packages were directed to the building’s mailroom. He knew it had to be a neighbor. The thought was enough to lift his spirits…until he viewed the new company through the doorbell camera.

The familiar wide eyes of the hunter stared back at him through the screen. Unlike the last few encounters, there was no darkness swirling behind the ocean of blue. Instead, his eyes crinkled at the edges, following the upward curve of his lips. The expression appeared far too strained to indicate friendliness.

Still, Charlie didn’t want to be a coward so he answered the door.

“Charlie, right?” Xavier asked when the baker said nothing.

He hadn’t meant to gape, but even in a plain hoodie and jeans, the hunter couldn’t hide his profession with his towering posture and ominous grin.

I’m a dead man…

“Xavier,” Charlie managed to say after warding off the millions of scenarios his mind conjured of how he could perish by this man’s large hands. “H-how are you?”

“I’m well,” Xavier replied with an amiability that was foreign in their previous interactions. He shifted on his feet, his said large hands lifting up a small rectangular package wrapped in cloth. “I realized I hadn’t given you a proper welcome--even after you gifted us that bread.”

Charlie didn’t miss the biting emphasis on us. While MC had introduced herself as his colleague, he suspected they must've been somewhat of an item, even if they didn’t explicitly say.

The hunter extended the bag. “I made some egg tarts today,” he said. “I thought to bring you some.”

Charlie glanced at the knapsack warily, though his hand reached out to take it before his hesitation could be misconstrued as rudeness.

“O-oh,” he stammered out. “That’s very kind. Thank you!”

“It’s not the best,” Xavier added, shoving his hands into his pockets and having the audacity to appear timid. Had Charlie imagined the churlish remarks the other day? Or maybe he’d been having a bad week at the time?

“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Charlie appeased. He jutted a thumb to the open door behind him. “Did you want to come in?”

Xavier shook his head and took a step back. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I was just trying to be more neighborly. Hope you enjoy the tarts.”

And with that, the man turned on his heel and retreated down the hall—to MC’s apartment no less. They could at least be subtle…

Charlie returned to his own apartment, setting the tarts on the counter as he replayed the bewildering conversation in his mind. Shoving his suspicions aside, he unfolded the cloth and opened the small container.

It was an abomination to all baked goods.

There was far too much char on a crust that should have been golden. Not to mention, the shape of the tarts was oblong instead of circular with each one of varying size.

Still…It was the thought that counted, right?

With that charitable idea, he procured one of the pastries and took a generous bite.

His tongue rejected it immediately. In panic, he spit the half-chewed piece into the trash, running to the sink to cleanse his mouth. The taste of burnt flour lingered on his tongue still, turning more acrid with every passing second.

He eyed the bitten tart with disgust. The bottom was most certainly black and inedible, a complete contrast to the golden-ish center. With a pause, he considered the custard middle that seemed decent, albeit amateur.

In the name of neighborliness, he risked his life again and swiped out a dollop of the center to taste. As expected, the custard wasn’t great—a little lumpy—but it wasn't bad either. Besides, he hadn’t eaten much today and didn’t feel like cooking after a whole day of unpacking.

So, he gratefully feasted on Xavier’s peace offering, wondering if this would be a start to a new friendship.

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As it turned out, the peace offering was actually a murder attempt.

One that took effect in the middle of the night in the form of severe stomach pains and a mess coming from either end of Charlie’s person.

Food poisoning.

The hunter had tried to poison him.

Charlie should’ve been less naive to accept the sudden gentle disposition presented to him. It was a Trojan Horse, designated to end him.

As he scraped himself off the bathroom floor after hours of dispelling his insides, he was certain of two facts.

He, Charlie, was a target. And neighbor Xavier might be the death of him.

Time only proved him right in this matter.

Later in the week, when Charlie had finally recovered enough strength to return to work, he nearly stumbled into Xavier asleep in the hallway, donning his hunter uniform and sword at his side.

Normal people didn’t fall asleep fully clothed in the hallway. There was no smell of alcohol.

No, this was a camp-out.

Xavier was patiently waiting for the baker to emerge from his home so he could discreetly assassinate him.

Although the hunter did seem to have some scratches and bruises from what appeared to be a fight, Charlie knew they were probably fake—to create a believable alibi.

He would allocate Charlie’s death as collateral damage from a Wanderer skirmish. No one would question it!

But the baker refused to be fooled. He avoided death that day by extending his sick time and shutting himself back into his apartment.

The next assassination attempt occurred weeks later and was less subtle. Xavier had appeared at Charlie’s doorstep again, this time with a package.

“There must've been a mix-up in address,” the hunter explained, offering a sealed brown box that no doubt held a glitter bomb at best and noxious gas at worst. Besides, the smile on his lips was too friendly to be genuine.

Mix up? Impossible!

Charlie meticulously tracked all his orders, and no one sent surprise packages…except maybe his mother. But it couldn't be that!

So, he thanked Xavier and promptly dumped the package into the trash by the door without reading the label. He was sure to maintain eye contact to assert his dominance.

Death wouldn't have him that day either.

The worst offense was on none other than his birthday. He wasn’t sure how Xavier had discovered the date. Charlie had mentioned it to MC in passing, but surely the hunter would have given a respite on that special day in the name of humanity.

So he thought until he returned home from his birthday dinner and found a small pot on his doormat. Inside was a small plant with red tendrils spiking from its center.

A note peeked out from the side.

“Happy Birthday! I hope this year is as lovely as this Sundew Plant. It needs lots of sun, so place it on your balcony! ^^ - your neighbor Xavier”

It was obviously a threat. After an extensive internet search, Charlie uncovered that the plant was carnivorous, luring its prey into its hold with its deceptively cute appearance before it sucked the life from the victim.

Deceptively cute…Just like Xavier…

From that point on, Charlie avoided the hunter at all costs, determined not to soften at his friendly smiles and greetings.

Despite having to defend his own life within the apartment building, life outside of Xavier’s assassination attempts continued to flourish.

The bakery was doing exquisitely, and as the months passed, Charlie thought it might be best to extend the shop’s hours. But it would make the commute to and from work a nightmare.

So, with his new funds, he decided to rent a more spacious apartment closer to his business. He wasn’t particularly attached to the small studio, and most of his friends lived further in town.

Once he’d chosen a place, he began packing immediately. He didn’t see Xavier for quite a while either, making the transition even more peaceful.

The hunter only appeared again on moving day, and there were enough witnesses present that Charlie felt safe.

“You’re moving?” the white-haired man questioned in awe as he watched the movers carry out a set of boxes.

“Yup,” Charlie answered cheerily. Xavier was probably feeling defeated that his insidious plots never prevailed. In the end, the lowly baker won!

Xavier patted Charlie on the shoulder, his blue eyes locking onto his face. In a moment of weakness, that old fear crept down the latter’s spine, but he steeled himself.

“I’m happy for you,” Xavier said. His lips unfurled in a chilling smile. “Though I’m sure we’ll meet again.Good luck!”

Charlie gulped as the hunter returned to his own apartment, his pursed lips producing a haunting tune.

Was Xavier threatening to find him again…to continue this torment? Despite the niggling uneasiness, Charlie forced himself to cling to hope.

The hunter didn’t know his new address, and he never had interest in his bread.

So maybe, if Charlie played his cards right…he’d never have to look at those cold blue eyes again. Then he’d have his true new beginning.

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Fate wasn’t so kind. Charlie did see those blue eyes again only weeks later, ever a harbinger of his near demise.

However, he learned that Xavier’s “attempts” at killing him weren't as terrifying as actually facing death itself. When Wanderers attacked his street on his way home from work, Charlie would’ve welcomed the chilly stares and threats over the twisted monstrosities and flying debris.

It was the latter that nearly ended him, a chunk of cement hurtling through the contrastingly serene sky. Charlie had felt his feet turn to lead as the rock plummeted towards him. All he could manage was to shut his eyes and await the impact.

Only it never came. Instead a blinding light flashed above his head, and the baker would’ve mistaken it for death itself had he not been tackled to the ground moments later.

Recovering quickly, he scrambled to his feet, ready to flee when a gloved hand caught his arm.

“It’s okay. The attack is over now,” came a familiar deep voice.

Slowly, Charlie faced his savior—who he had once believed to be his executioner.

“Xavier?” he stammered out, not quite comprehending what just happened.

The hunter shifted his gaze away from the wreckage to the baker, a flicker of recognition softening his grim expression. “Charlie,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

There it was. Despite being a knight of light seconds ago, it seemed his ex-neighbor’s thirst for vengeance had returned. A deep frown marred the man’s features, confirming the long-held animosity.

But Charlie had enough of running.

“I get it,” he bit out, his experience both heightening his frustrations and emboldening him to spill them. “If you knew it was me, you’d have let it hit me right?”

Xavier’s expression crinkled into confusion. “What? Why would I do that? You would’ve died.”

“Isn't that your goal?” Charlie returned with a mirthless chuckle. “All this time—I’ve dodged your attempts to end me. The poisoned tarts, the package, the threat in plant form! If that rock hit me, it would’ve made your job a lot easier. You wouldn't even have gotten your hands dirty.”

The white-haired man gaped, as if he really didn’t understand where this tirade originated. To be fair Charlie didn’t either, but his emotions were high strung and he dreaded his newfound peace would be shattered after this reunion.

Instead, the hunter snickered. Laughed. It was brief, his humor dashed away upon seeing Charlie’s rage.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Xavier hedged, his regal aura dwindling to shyness as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I seemed cold when we first met…and I was just trying to make amends for it. I’m told I don’t express my feelings very well. Guess I should’ve just talked to you instead of the subtle gestures. I’m sorry—I must've frightened you.”

Charlie’s world collapsed. He wasn’t a target? Neighbor Xavier wasn’t an assassin?

He wasn’t sure if the hunter was lying or not, but he couldn’t argue with the genuine remorse on the other man’s face.

Suddenly, the incidents he mistook as murder attempts seemed silly in hindsight. The custard did seem curdled, so he shouldn’t have eaten it. Xavier was a hunter, so maybe he did pass out in the hallway from exhaustion. His mother had asked if he’d gotten her surprise package months ago—the one he trashed. And…the Sundew plant was helpful in the end, eating any flies that drifted into the house.

“Oh…” Charlie said, a chuckle of his own edging up his throat. “I guess, I might’ve been a little dramatic. Sorry…and I guess I should thank you for saving me.”

Xavier’s smile no longer felt frigid when he extended his hand, and Charlie wondered how he saw anything threatening behind it before.

“No hard feelings?” he said.

Charlie clasped it firmly, a relieved grin unfolding across his lips. “None.”

His eyes drifted to behind Xavier where a familiar girl in a burgundy and black hunter uniform was navigating over the debris. Her eyes met his and lit up as she rushed forward.

“Charlie!” she greeted, skidding to a stop next to her hunter colleague. “Long time no see! Xavier mentioned you moved, and I thought we’d chased you off.”

Despite some truth in that statement, Charlie shook his head. “Not at all,” he demurred. “I moved closer to the bakery, that's all. It’s just down the block from here.”

MC’s countenance brightened. “So you did open one!” she said. “Xavier and I will make sure to visit soon. I still think about that bread you gave us, you know. We’ll be regulars, so be prepared!”

The praise went straight to the baker’s head, elation swelling in his chest at her enthusiasm. But as the old saying went, pride came before the fall.

In his overflowing excitement, Charlie blurted, “Please do! It’ll be nice to see your pretty face around again!”

Just like that, he felt it. The chill skittering down his neck, the dark shadow hanging over his head…

He gulped as he dared glance over at the hunter. Those blue eyes, previously wide and contrite, turned narrow and hostile.

“Faces!” he corrected but he was sure that made it worse. “Pretty faces!”

Shut up, Charlie…

Even if Xavier had no intention of harming him at the old apartment, he certainly had that resolve now.

With an awkward titter, MC placed a hand on Xavier’s arm, and Charlie didn’t miss how her fingers dug into his sleeve like a warning. “Well, we should make sure everything is clear after this attack. Be careful going home, Charlie!”

Her hand lifted in a friendly wave before she hurried back into the rubble. Meanwhile, Xavier lingered though his back was now turned towards him.

“Like she said,” the hunter muttered darkly. “Be careful, Charlie.”

Before the fear-stricken baker could reply, the man launched himself after MC with inhuman speed.

Charlie deflated as he turned on his heel to return home. It seemed his tendency for getting himself into trouble continued.

So after surviving multiple moves, a business opening, and now a Wanderer attack, he was now certain of two new facts.

He, Charlie, was an idiot. And, ex-neighbor Xavier might still be the death of him.

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With the Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 43

Had some time for editing, so here's some plot!

Read it here on Ao3!

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Sweet Wishes

Summary: When MC presents him with the first birthday cake he’s had in decades, Xavier finds his emotional defenses wrecked.

A slight AU to the cake scene for Xavier’s bday event. Fluff and sugar ahead. 

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A/N: Xavier’s bday week isn’t over yet!! So please enjoy this quick little Love and Deepspace AU fic because I wanted him to cry at some point during the event. 

Dedicating this little fic to my twin and bestie @my-soul-sings as a thank you for resurrecting me out of the writer’s block grave <3 

Also available to read here on Ao3! 

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It’s the cake that destroys him. 

Out of the countless Wanderers and battles he’d faced, out of all the failed attempts to find her, the pain he’d felt then had only fueled him to press forward. To what?

He hadn’t known. 

Even when this girl appeared in the no hunt zone like an angel from his dreams, he knew it wasn’t her. So he refused to allow himself to feel anything more than a quiet fondness.

For decades, he’d kept distant from most people. They were temporary factors in his existence, doomed to disappear or fall away with the turn of a new generation.

But MC…

There was no magnanimous event that caused the shift within him. Rather, her little gestures gradually whittled away at his centuries-old shield without his knowing.

It was the mundane afternoon calls, asking what he ate or wondering if he’d like to join her for a walk. The glimmer in her eyes when they played cards was another contributor, a tell-tale sign of her good-hand. When Xavier felt especially generous, he’d let her win just to hear her laugh, even at his expense. 

Maybe worst of all were the random encounters—at the store, on the bus, while hunting. Her face would visibly brighten to the point Xavier often debated if he’d subconsciously manipulated his own Evol just to emphasize her wonder. It was as if seeing him were the highlight of her entire life.

All of it deconstructed his defenses, culminating to this single point in time. The final blow. 

“Wh-what’s this?” he stammers out when she retrieves a lighter from her pocket. 

She stares at him with feign disbelief. “You’re not so old that you don’t know what a candle on cake is, right?” 

He never disclosed his age, and he is old, so he could certainly play into that. 

But he can’t manage it, even as a joke. His chest is tightening too quickly as she lowers the flame onto the wick. The last time he’d had a cake in front of him…a candle…she was there too. Well, not her, but…

“Happy Birthday to you,” she begins to sing slightly off key with a synchronized tap of her fingers. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Xav…” 

His unfinished name drifts into the air as she catches a glimpse of his face in the moonlight. Her eyes widen in panic. He’s confused until he finally gets a grip on his present reality and notices the purple and white fondant blurring together in his vision. 

“Are you—are you crying?” she says before hurriedly grappling at some nearby napkins. 

As if the acknowledgment breaks an internal dam, tears begin to spill freely onto his cheeks. He makes no effort to stop them, mostly because he’s stupefied by their existence. A breathy laugh catches in his throat when MC dabs a napkin against his now damp face.

“It’s not that…” he tries before his voice wavers. His face heats with MC’s concern anchored upon him, the soaked cloth clenched in her fists. “I’m sorry—you can finish singing.” 

Her eyes search his in an agonizing stretch of vulnerable silence. She’s young, and unlike him, memories of years past…lives past…don’t dim the sparkle in them. 

“I hear a lot of people get the birthday blues,” she says quietly, her hand lifting to gently rest atop his head. “It’s normal to feel like time is going too fast or that you’re behind.”

The irony of the statement slams into him, and more moisture accumulates at the edges of his lashes. Time was often the source of his loneliness, but not in the way she was thinking. 

Alarm flashes across her features again as she swipes another tissue against his face. “Ah! Sorry, I’m so bad at this,” she says, stepping closer. 

His hands catch her wrists, stopping her frantic ministrations midway. “MC,” he says, another breath of laughter escaping him at the sight of her distress on his account. “I’m not sad, I promise.” 

The pang in his chest is painful, but it’s tenderness, not melancholy, that causes the sensation. 

“But— “ she begins before her shoulders deflate. “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

It’s almost said as an apology—an unnecessary one. Xavier had grown more indifferent about his birthday with every passing year. It wasn’t until MC insisted they did something other than read a book did he realize how her strains of affection had wriggled their way into his head. 

For the first time in years, he was enjoying this day. Not that he wanted to celebrate himself…rather, he wanted to celebrate with her. 

The chair creaks against the cement as he stands, his hands still clutching hers. With a light tug, she loses her balance and staggers forward into his chest. He envelops her in his arms, savoring her touch when she relaxes into his embrace. 

“I’m grateful,” he says after a long moment, her hair soft against his face. “That was all.”

It’s insufficient for what he’s actually feeling. A memory tugs at the back of his mind, and even if it’s far off, he remembers it vividly. 

It invokes the smell of vanilla and flowers, the comfortable heat of the mellow sun on his cheeks, and an inexplicable warmth that blossoms from his chest. 

His gaze sweeps over his current surroundings, littered with the little details she’d prepared these last few days, and he’s aware of the direct contrasts. 

Chocolate instead of vanilla. Paper lantern stars among the potted flowers. The moon instead of the sun beaming down on them. 

However, that warmth is very much the same. 

Thank you for letting me relive it, he thinks, unable to articulate his gratitude aloud.

She loosens herself from his hold just enough to look up at him. Her focus flickers to his lips, and his usually slow heartbeat quickens in response. 

She presses onto her tiptoes to brush her nose against his. “Happy Birthday, Xavier,” she finishes, barely above a whisper.

Allowing his eyelids to flutter shut, he relishes in the splendor of the next few seconds. Her closeness and the brush of her fingers against the nape of his neck leave him chasing his next breath. 

But before Xavier can close the meer centimeters left, the saccharine scent around them turns acrid. 

His eyes snap open to meet MC’s own stunned expression.

“The candle!” she gasps as they both whirl towards the forgotten cake. A pool of wax bubbles at the center and only a small stub of wick remains lit. 

MC shoves him haphazardly back into his seat, tapping his shoulder wildly. “Just hurry and make a wish!”

Xavier’s mind draws a blank as he finds himself facing the cake once more. With all the years he’d lived, he should have a long list of desires, and yet in this very moment, his heart is full. 

Still, he squeezes his eyes shut and blows out sharply. The weak flame vanishes into a thin trail of smoke. 

MC softly claps her hands together before coming around the table. Xavier leans forward to observe the details of the cake now that tears weren’t obscuring his vision. Purple streaks swirl through the white cream, and the delicate gold dust scattered throughout reflects the glittering constellations overhead. 

“Did you make it yourself?” he asks, though the answer is obvious by the half-squished fondant star in the corner. 

MC nods proudly. Her confidence only wanes when her eyes fall on the puddle of half-dried wax cratering the icing in the center. A defeated sigh drifts from her lips. “Xavier, I think baked goods tremble when they see you—and you didn’t even make this one.” 

“Maybe I’m a legendary monster in their world,” he says seriously, pleased by the soft chuckle he elicits from the girl. His attention flicks to her briefly before returning to her diligent fingers extracting the wax. “It’s pretty either way.” 

MC hums in disagreement. “The icing on top made it prettier.”

With a small spoon, she swipes a lump of sugary fluff from one of the corners and pops it in her mouth. “It still tastes good though—so that’s all that matters.”

A remnant of the white icing is smudged against the edge of her mouth, but Xavier says nothing, electing to commit the image to memory instead. 

Still oblivious to her appearance, she collects another scoop from a different side and extends it out to him. “Want to taste it?” 

Xavier’s lips lift in a small smile as his gaze trails from her hand up to her face. Those tendrils of affection are winding inside of his chest again, only tightening their hold at the brilliant luster reflected in her eyes. 

She was looking at him like that again, her entire countenance brightening as she waited expectantly. He was accustomed to being a loner—a shadow passing through the crowd before disappearing into a flash of light. 

But now, she was aware of him. More than that, she was anticipating his reaction, his thoughts, his feelings—and not just because it was his birthday. 

It was…overwhelming. 

Unable to stop himself, Xavier rises to his feet, not quite sure what he wants to do or say. However, when he peers down at her again, his body acts before his mind can catch up. 

Swooping forward, he catches her mouth with his own. 

Immediately, he is bombarded with her intense sweetness. 

She tastes like sugar and stars and lavender—as if all the promises she’d adorned on him that day lingered on her lips, reaffirming her vows even as she melts into him. 

At her returned fervor, his smile unfurls the kiss, a result of his physical inability to contain his bliss any longer. 

“It’s very sweet,” he murmurs into the meager space  between them. His thumb traces the outline of her jaw and brushes away the little bit of icing he hadn’t caught. 

When he meets her gaze again, her countenance is radiating with fondness just as it had at the fountain. 

“Do you want to know what I wished before?” he says, suddenly feeling flustered by her rapt attention. 

Her expression contorts into stern frown. She steps back, though she can’t go far with his hands greedily holding their grip at her waist. “No! If you tell me, it won’t come true.”

Xavier hums thoughtfully, bumping her nose with his own. “Then can I tell you what I didn’t wish for?”

She falters a moment before pursing her lips. It’s obvious her curiosity is winning over her superstition. “I guess that’s alright.” 

A chuckle scrapes past Xavier’s throat, but he schools his giddiness, clasping his hands together over the small of her back. 

“I didn’t wish not to revisit the sea of flowers with you next year,” he says. “And I didnt wish not to watch a real meteor shower with you. And I desperately did not wish not to spend every birthday I have left in time with you.” 

A soft pink dusts her cheeks, growing deeper with every “not wish”. Her hands cup his face and she gives him several tight squishes—as she tends to do often. 

“Don’t tell me you wasted your wish on that,” she says, her voice noticeably strained. “I promised you those things, so I’ll make sure it happens.” 

“A wish on you is never wasted,” Xavier returns, pulling from her hold lest she assault him further. “Besides, those are my true feelings, and really…it’s all I want.” 

MC releases his face to wrap her arms around his neck once more. “That’s all you want?” She raises a brow. “Even more than those ugly pictures of me back?” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“They’re not ugly,” he insists, though he grows solemn at the smirk that pulls at her mouth. “But I do want those back.”

“It would be a shame if they got lost.”

“I won’t let you borrow anything again,” he threatens knowing full well he’d lend her his very life source if she asked. 

Her shoulders shake in a fit of giggles before she rests her head against his chest. Though there’s no music, they begin to sway to a melody only their tied souls seem to hear. 

“Fine. Think of it as your second to last birthday gift,” she murmurs after awhile. 

“I think you’ve showered me with enough today,” he says. “Though…why second to last?”

MC lifts her head as they slow to a stop, her expression more somber and sincere. “I’m cashing in my wish early,” she explains, her fingers fiddling with the lapel of his blazer. “For the meteor shower we’ll see in the future.”

“And what’s that?” Xavier pauses. “I mean…what’s your not-wish?”

Her lips quirk upwards at the joke before she lets out an unsteady breath. Her eyes lift to his, drenching him with her fierce conviction. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Xavier. And not just in this one. Every world out there…every planet, every universe—I wish you happiness in each one.”

His throat is constricting again, and maybe a few more tears leak from his barely dried eyes, but it’s okay. With all the smiling and laughter throughout the day, a few bouts of crying was justified. 

However, it seemed that MC’s wish would be granted early.

Because as they sit under the stars and eat sugary cake—and even as they pull pieces of wax from their mouths with heady laughter—Xavier feels his chest fill with the warmth of the sun. 

Whether this would be his last birthday or the first of many more celebrations, he would hold fast to this memory with everything inside of him.

Because in this exact moment in time and space, he was blissfully happy.

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With the Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 42

Oh, lookie, an update in less than 3 years. It's actually one of my favorite chapters--or fics--I've written. Hope you enjoy!

Read it here on Ao3!

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With the Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 40

Hello everyone! Just wanted to pop on here and say...Not dead? Not abandoned? Here’s a little update for WTIOH for nostalgia's sake.  

You can read it on Ao3.  

Hope you enjoy! and thank you for those who occasionally pop in or tag me on twitter. Love ya'll!

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Isn’t it everyone’s dream to follow Marius around all day? Go check out @thenxxfiles and you can! Place your order soon!

📆 PRE-ORDERS: 10 June - 10 July 2022

🛒 thenxxfiles.bigcartel.com

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*+:｡.｡Hello villagers from towns far and wide!｡.｡:+*

Isabelle here with a delightful update from us folks and Residential Services! From June 25 - July 2 we will be holding an Interest Check in the town square for a potential future event! Look forward to seeing you there!

Interest Check: forms(.)gle/Nw4nH7jU6pU1SmrT9 

(Please remove the brackets when you copy + paste this link into your browser.) 

For more updates, follow us on our social media! We’re @acscrapbookzine on Carrd, Twitter and Tumblr. 

@fandomzines @zineapps @zine-scene @zinesubmissions​ @zinefeed​ ​

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With the Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 39

Hello everyone! Here’s another update for WTIOH right on time for the twin’s bday! Altho, this one is probably more for the Vandy lovers ;) 

You can read it on Ao3 for now. It will be up on fanfiction. net when I can figure out what’s going on with their formatting... 

Hope you enjoy! 

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Hey y’all. I’m active on Twitter now if you would like to follow. Just fun stuff on there!

You can find me here!

Do you have another account we can follow you on? :)

Not yet! I have been thinking about opening a separate account for fun or for my other interests, but I’m not sure which platform yet. I’ll update here if I do <3 

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Reblogging Bc @my-soul-sings demanded and I cannot refuse.

And also I miss these ;) Feel free to send!!

send an ask: get to know your author

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

4) favorite character you’ve written

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

8) favorite genre to write

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

12) your weaknesses as an author

13) your strengths as an author

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

15) why did you start writing?

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

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Ayeee, thanks for the tag! I tag @mrsmaow @lilydally and @peppermint-jumin! Or anyone seeing this who wants to do this! Pic crews are fun:)

God I love picrew. Here’s me and Mink

[spacechip707]

How to Train A Fox

Summary: Can foxes be trained? Biho decides to find out.

***

If Biho had to describe Yooha’s general personality towards his housemates, he would choose any negative word in the dictionary. Even the most amiable interactions with the fox included at least one sarcastic remark—borderline caustic if Taehee was involved. 

However, Biho began to observe a pattern. In very specific situations, there was a constant digression from Yooha’s usual temperament. His sour moods would turn drastically sweet. His frowns would quickly morph into blindingly bright grins. And those tails would pop out, sending fur fluttering into the air and Taehee’s sanity with it.

What were those specific situations? Well, from Biho’s observations, these behavioral deviations occurred around a single person—MC. 

Just the other day Biho watched Yooha vehemently refuse to touch the porridge Taehee had made, muttering something about “all the wrong textures.” He wouldn’t even lift his spoon until MC coaxed him to eat one bite, patting his head when he took two instead. 

Since then, Yooha had eaten a full bowl of porridge three times. 

It worked with verbal praise as well. A “Good boy!” from MC was enough to get the fox to do acrobatics if she so asked. Had it been any one of the goblins, he would’ve continued to idle on the couch, wine glass in hand, as usual. 

Despite his passionate aversion to being compared to a dog, Yooha exhibited numerous puppy-like behaviors—even going so far as to stare out the window, pining every time MC left the house. Not to mention the tail-wagging… 

The behavior annoyed Hansol and Taehee, but it fascinated Biho. It reminded him of numerous books he had read about operant conditioning—using reinforcers to shape an animal’s behaviour. Like giving dog treats to train a dog to perform the right tricks.

A peculiar, curious thought occurred to him the next time he saw Yooha sit at MC’s command, and receive a gracious smile after:

Could he train Yooha to behave? 

Keep reading

[spacechip707]

With The Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 38

Hello Everyone! 

I am currently snowed in, so here’s another WTIOH update! Hope you enjoy!! <3 

You can read it here on Ao3 or fanfiction.net.

[spacechip707]

Biho Snooze, Hansol Lose

Summary: Hansol gets creative in his attempts to wake Biho up.

***

Every day, Hansol had a to-do list. Chores, if you will. Taehee did most of the household chores voluntarily (the man had explicitly said he didn’t trust any of them to clean or cook properly) but Hansol did have a job of his own in the house.

He glanced over at the sleeping redhead on the bed at the opposite end of their room, narrowing his eyes at the way the baby goblin’s chest rose and fell quietly, the way his innocent face looked so utterly peaceful and rested.

Hansol had the redhead’s sleep cycle memorised to a tee by now. He knew what time Biho should wake up, what time his work shift started, how many times he had overslept and how perilously close he was getting to being fired altogether. Hansol also always made sure that there was enough food for the redhead, and chased him out of the house when the next bus was arriving soon. 

The others had teased him, calling him “Mummy Hansol’’ before. The blond had frowned at the imposed title, telling them off because he was most definitely not Biho’s mother. Or a woman.

But deep down, he knew it was true to some extent. 

Somehow, he had become Biho’s unofficial babysitter, and one of his main jobs—and the most difficult one in this house at that—was the impossible task of waking Biho up every day (or night).

It wasn’t enough to call Biho a deep sleeper. No, that term didn’t even come close to describing just how ridiculously dead Biho was in his sleep. 

The most recent example? There had been a series of storms the past few days. Likely, the youngest goblin’s sleep had been interrupted by the lightning and the booming thunder. At least, that’s what Hansol had thought, being the kind, loving, caring person he was.  

However, after the third day in a row of having to wake the redhead from his slumber, he was sure not even the loudest storm would’ve woken him. Especially since his attempts at jabbing his shoulder with a blunt pen certainly wasn’t working. 

With a groan, Hansol tossed the pen onto the nearby desk. A small stack of papers went fluttering to the floor, but even that only extracted a soft hum from the sleeping stone in front of him. 

For the past few days, Hansol had to scream at the top of his lungs in order to get a small stir from the baby goblin. However, his throat was one tantrum away from being sore, and he needed to preserve it for his gig later.

“Biho,” he pleaded, hands gripping the younger goblin’s shirt. Though he knew it would be fruitless, he shook the cloth in his hands in another attempt to break this enchantment. “One night. Just one night, wake up when I ask.” 

By some miracle, the redhead’s lips parted, though his eyes remained closed. Hansol released a sigh as his knees buckled under the weight of relief. Usually, Biho would mutter a series of short, incoherent sentences before finally, albeit reluctantly, emerging from his slumber. 

Hansol’s voice had been saved… 

Or so he thought. Wrongly. 

Instead of uttering his usual ramblings, Biho rolled to one side and pulled his dolphin plushie into his arms. “Five more minutes.” 

Hansol could’ve forgiven the younger goblin had his voice been muddled, syllables slurred together from the remnants of sleep bogging his brain. However, he spoke with clarity—absolute lucidity. 

The audacity. 

Fuming from the blatant disrespect, Hansol clutched his arm once more and flipped him onto his back. Again, he was met with that familiar dopey face. All traces of awakeness were gone…and Hansol’s patience went right with it.  

“KANG BIHO!!” the shout slipped from his throat faster than he could catch it. He slapped his hand over his mouth, mentally apologizing to his poor vocal cords for the screw up. 

Still, the lack of response from the unconscious goblin intensified his exasperation. With a sharp huff, he glanced at the useless alarm clock by Biho’s bedside. If he didn’t manage to really wake the baby, both he and Biho would end up being late. 

He couldn’t use his voice. Physical force couldn’t wake him. Hansol needed to be more creative.

Keep reading

[spacechip707]

Hello. Are you doing well? Just checking on you.

Hello Anon! I’m doing really well thanks for asking <3

[spacechip707]

While I’ll still be writing WTIOH and maybe the occasional one-shot for mysme, I’ll be a little more active on this collab blog with @my-soul-sings for now!

If you have fallen into the Wannabe Challenge hole, come join us! And also let’s talk, cuz I wanna find more wannabe fans here!

If you haven’t played it, I HIGHLY recommend it!! The characters are loveable, The story is so good, and Zen and Seven’s VA are in it!! Also mysme Easter eggs 👀

Hello everyone! Welcome to Wannabetwins, where two writers go nuts with their ideas!! 

We’re Ailis and Sherms, and we set up this blog for our fic collabs on Wannabe Challenge because we thought it would be fun to write about shenanigans between the 5 house mates in this game 😎

Right now we‘re working on a prank war series, where (you guessed it!) the house mates prank each other/drive each other crazy. It’s going to be a mess, and we hope you’ll have fun reading our fics as much as we enjoy brainstorming ideas and writing together!

We’re also open to taking requests! See our request guidelines before submitting them to us (just drop us an ask). :) 

That’s all from us! We hope you enjoy your time here on this blog! ☕️✨

✨ Our socials ✨ + Ailis: @spacechip707  + Sherms: @my-soul-sings

P.S. We had a Mystic Messenger collab blog @mysmesomespacechips​ so if you’re an MM fan and love the choi twins as much as we do, go ahead and check out the crack fics and headcanons we posted there!

[spacechip707]

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much… before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. “Maybe it’s a lint mutation!” Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin…. The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Keep reading