#grabbed Kristen by the hand and got her back out to the world

[thedragonsfate]

ok but helioc followers being doomed inherently if they have any tragic or untimely death because they're taught that "Helio wouldn't let that happen" and similar principles

Being taught to live for the afterlife but also to expect worldly challenges like murder/tragedy/etc are something you are like. Immune to somehow? In living?

You are devoted to Helio and in so you will have a peaceful death, one that is fair and just and I'm befitting circumstances. Or at least that if you are subject to a tragic death, Helio will be there to hold you with open arms and some kind of REASON. Something to bring a wholeness to the upset of not getting what you've been taught to expect.

This idea that you are helioc and so your death is Helioc. Helio must have a plan for you, and your death will not be untimely, and if it seems so it serves a greater purpose that is theologically rewarding. Because of course it does.

You are helioc and so you don't just die for no reason. Death is a moment of respite and a crossing into everlasting life and it will ALWAYS be for a greater reason if not simply your salvation.

Helioc followers (and followers of sol) learning that sense of disdain for their non or "wrongly" faithful peers due to that sense of superiority. That sense of superiority extending past your feelings about others and into your expectations for how you will pass into the afterlife.

That superiority creating a fellowship that EXPECTS Helio to save them in the living world - because you've been good, it's not your time yet, Helio wouldn't let that happen to you, his faithful servant. You are faithful and he would not punish you with a an unjustified death.

You are ENTITLED to a befitting death into afterlife because you are Good where the world is Bad and you do everything you can to remind those who do not follow your god, to relentlessly try to convert them, to fall into the trap you fell in so long ago shaped by fear, by a victim complex, by isolation from other groups that makes you hostile toward them, even if behind a smile.

A world that is Fundamentally and Observably polytheistic, where the Helioc unfortunate enough to befall a tragic, untimely, or unexplainable death are -doomed- to the faith upon meeting their Deity. Because unlike those of the faith who have passed peacefully or for their own martyrdom or whatever else, you show up to the corny gates and something is Wrong. Your god comes to you with love but he did not protect you in the way you're certain he was supposed to. In the way you were taught you DESERVED.

This is not a reward for your devotion and it cannot be justified. Your god is a Fratboy of Corn who is unable to answer your questions because to answer your questions truthfully would be to unravel the principles fundamental to your religion. To acknowledge that "bad things happen [to good people] because Things Happen" is to admit that being Helioc does not Save You from the wrath of the cosmos. That being Helioc does not make you uniquely and automatically good, and therefore safe from the happenstance of the world. That the good people you watched suffer did not Earn it in some way, they were just dealt that hand. The hard times befallen upon your worldly siblings is not something that happens because they weren't "devout enough."

to admit Helio is not inherently more holy than any other deity, is the kind of truth that can destroy this type of faith, and Helio needs to stay alive. Gods are not of the material, but they're dependent on their followers to survive. To bend to what their followers preach and create as their religion in this SPECIFIC way means that you can no longer be truthful about these matters when (if) they ask. In the right hands it could destroy him. He needs the unwavering faith the church has built to stay as strong as he has been, because that it how he's maintained the power he's had until now. He no longer knows another way. And that's excluding whatever influence Sol/the church of Sol has on him and his domain.

Helio not only cannot answer truthfully, but is DESTINED to get himself out of dodge quick upon being asked. Because as above so below, and the church is not known for its ability or willingness to take responsibility.

And if youre disillusioned enough, or angry enough, or sharp enough to put that together from an interaction in any way similar to Kristen's in freshman year, then the betrayal of your own God is GOING to take over.

Maybe you're like Kristen and you start asking questions, maybe you're like Buddy and take the rageful hand that offers to ressurect you the way your own God "should have".

But to die in the way they died automatically puts them in a position that if they are to get to heaven and ask questions, or have conflicting feelings strong enough to get you thinking, then they're DOOMED either to be disappointed with Helio or to dig deeper into deluding themselves. This of course will not always trigger a loss of faith, ans plenty of people leave the church in living for a myriad of reasons - we saw this with the summer of endless night. But there's something so interesting in the way the nature of your death could be further reinforcement of your ideals or completely shatter them in one fell swoop, even upon reaching the place of blessed afterlife.

because the Church of Helio seems different from the other religions we've seen in game in that over time the modern faith has been been BUILT on expectation and a sense of deserving more than others. And to die in a manner directly opposed to your own sense of entitlement is all that the latent anger may need to break that follower-deity relationship

Of course Kristen met Helio and was immediately unsure about her direction in life. On the other side of that coin, of course Buddy let his faith go to come back to life to serve a corrupt god of rage. They're children killed young and devout, who's deaths are orchestrated by powers out of their hands, and not in line with the ideals taught by your god.

The difference being how entrenched you are when that happens, and who's there to pull you out.

[cookies-over-yonder]

claw at the world as it claws out your eyes

Riz takes a moment to try and recover from a frightening encounter in Leviathan.

title from Hawk In The Night by Madds Buckley

ao3

Riz sits on the counter of an excessively extravagant bathroom late into the night, feeling the sting of tattoos he doesn't remember getting, and the sting of tears at his eyes he continues to wipe away.

He doesn't feel safe.

It's expected as an adventurer, of course. Riz is used to that kind of danger.

But he doesn't feel safe as a goblin, either.

If people keep grabbing him and shoving guns in his mouth then that's bound to draw too much attention for the quest they're on.

He pulls the photo out and covers Kalina with one hand, just looking at his dad.

Riz blinks, and a tear falls onto the picture. One he's quick to wipe away, because it's not just a picture of his dad, it's evidence, it's a clue.

He wants to call his mom.

Had she ever been threatened like that? Riz wonders. He wants to call her and ask. But there's no service.

He wonders if it's ever happened to his dad, too.

But there's not a way to ask.

Not anymore.

Riz stifles a sob, puts the picture down and brings his hands to his eyes. It's been so many years. He grieved, he recovered, it's fine! It's fine.

It's fine, showing this piece of him—no, this piece of a puzzle—to strangers, because it's for the adventure. It's for a grade. It's fine.

A knock on the bathroom door causes him to flinch and yelp, before slapping his hands over his mouth.

"Riz? It's just me, Adaine. Can I come in?"

Riz reaches over from where he's seated on the counter and unlocks the door, wiping his tears away with his other hand.

She opens the door. "Hey."

"Hey," Riz says, mentally cursing the weakness in his voice.

She closes the door behind her, studying him with her gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—uh, sorry, did you need the bathroom?" Riz asks, and then he clears his throat to try and rid himself of the wobbles in his voice. "I can—I can go—"

"No, I just wanted to check on you," Adaine says, her sympathetic eyes locking with his, and they're so piercing he can't help but avert his gaze.

"I'm fine, I don't need checking in on," Riz says, still not looking up at her, and covering the photo with his palm. He doesn't know why.

Frankly, Riz doesn't know if he's fine. He should be, but his heartbeat is so fast and loud he can feel it throughout his entire body, and her words sound garbled and far away.

"It's just... well, there was that pirate who singled you out earlier, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, Fig and Kristen handled it, remember?" Riz says, looking up at her with a forced smile. 

"Well, yeah, but I mean like, mentally. I don't know, with everything going on I just got a little worried," Adaine says, hopping up onto the counter to sit beside him.

Adaine summons her familiar, Boggy the Froggy, Riz remembers, and passes it to him.

He squeezes Boggy, and something about the comforting smile on Boggy's face and just how spherical Boggy is makes him start crying again, not bothering to cover it up.

Adaine hops off the counter and picks something up off the ground.

Ah, the photo.

She joins Riz on the counter again, still holding the photo in her hand. "Your dad does look a lot like you," she says.

And with that, Riz starts bawling.

And soon enough, he feels a hand on his back, rubbing circles in a soothing motion.

"I—I wish we had service," is the first thing Riz says, between gasps and sobs. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be."

Riz takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out in an attempt to... get away from whatever is happening right now. "I'm fine. It's nothing. God. Fuck," Riz says, burying his head in Boggy's body.

"We don't have to talk about it. I just want you to know I'm here, okay?"

Riz nods, and Adaine wraps him in a hug that he accepts but doesn't return, and eventually the tears subside, leaving only exhaustion.

"You feeling any better?"

"Mm," Riz nods. "Tha—thanks. Let's go to sleep."

[noxspost]

a violin dreams and nightmares

A Violin the color of black night with golden roses painted on. Oh, a violin how can such a simple tool make so many tears and days of melancholy. But Philza was back in the room where his brother would play for him and Lily the room was big since his mother loved to flaunt her wealth but the room was a ghost of what it once was, but the siren song continued to call so he ran after the sound and finally pushing back a curtain to reveal a young ghost maybe in his 20s and was holding a violin black a night with the pegs being skulls.

              The clothing was trousers, white formal with a black-grey vest with rose details. His hair was a milky brown hair with curls that bounce as he played the violin, he wore glasses the frames being thin, eyes now open staring blankly at the room, then at Philza. Tears pricked his eyes he had the strong urge to run to the man and hugged him for all of time, but his feet were frozen in place and the melody change to a powerful sad and tears flowed down the man face.

With that illusions of creatures from piglings to endermen and this cause so much pain as Philza remembers the stories that his brother would talk about women with pig or boar features in the nether that could tear through the strongest of man and men with wings that would hunt with hunters in the new world when it wasn’t turned into a country or own by the brits. He heard the music pick up in pace and emotions and then he stops the music echoing in the empty room and he turned to where Philza walked to sit to watched and listen better “what do you want?” he spoke in a soft firm tone “hello I Philza.” Phil shot back kindly as he got up to shake hand with the man

“I am William Riceshrie.” Both starred at each other, and William put down his violin and picks up Philza and spinning and crying with tears of joy. Phil’s wings puff out as he is also crying tears of relief “you have your wing little brother.” Was all he said with Philza not speaking but weeping in his late brother arms which were tinted black like frost bite had touch him.

The violin safe on the table as both brothers embrace each other once again “William I did I got my wings and kept your stories alive.” Philza said with tears rounding down his face like rivers and his wings were wrapped around the older brother “I can see you have so many feathers.”

 He just cried more as they felt the room break around them leaving a old burn down house ruins of what once stood the snow falling on the ground didn’t feel cold but was here “how did you get the wings?” William asked voice sounded like a worried father “I got them by messing with fate tapestries and wax and feathers.” William just held his brother’s face as he just looked at Philza’s wings and nodded not speaking “hey you got them I hope learn not mess with fate.” He nodded and both went back to just holding on to each other out of fear of losing one another “now what happened with you because I haven’t since you since you recover from the plague you had?” Philza began to ramble off about his life after he almost died to tuberculosis. He had 3 sons, married to lady death or Kristen, he named his first-born Wilbur soot after his late brother and how he had the curse of empathy and immortally. William looked so proud and happy “my little brother has a family.”

Philza smiled holding the earing of a crow skull “yeah I am the right-hand man of lady death the sister to black feather and Soleks.”  As he notices the signs that it was almost time to wake up “see you later brother….”

He woke up jolting up with a cold sweat as he lay in bed, he looked at his windows and sighed “why must memories haunt me so much?” he got up and went to the box holding the violin and grab a letter and removing the wax seal and putting into a jar that hold wax seal for reuse. Finally reading what was in the letter after so many years of fear and grief  

                                         Dear brother,

If you are reading this letter, I am surely dead. I have written some things down for you and lily. One I love you dearly and thanks for listening to our history. Philip, I wish you the best of luck and if you read this go to the cave with red vines and lava if you want to know where my stuff is that I want to save from mother’s hands.

                        I will miss you two greatly but with a heavy heart I will be in limbo and maybe more when suntail cut the silk for me. But Phillip you will get some of my things like my papers, earrings and rings and hat but also my violin since I trust you with it and my favorite pocket watch.

I am deep sorry I couldn’t see you take your first steps to the door after you got better if you got better and if you are dead Phil, I will wait at the gates till I can see you.

                                                  Sincerely, William  

The cold wet tears come back his skin around his eyes becoming wet and tight from the tears that fall on the paper knowing his brother is forever waiting for him maybe even with Lilly. He couldn’t let out all the screams of pain and sorrow out of fear of technoblade knowing.    

[imthesilentwriter]

Chapter 9: Excuse me?

Lizzie's POV

I slowly drifted awake, after having a rough night. I woke up in a strange place. Confused where I was, I turned over in the bed. Then I realised I fell asleep in Kristen and Phil's bed. I quickly shot up from the bed, and there sat Kristen in the navy blue armchair in the corner of the room. "Good morning Lizzie. Didi you sleep ok?" she asked, I nodded. I took a deep breath in and then realized the sudden pain in my lower abdomen. Oh no. It couldn’t have happened already? I moved a little, then I realized… I got my period. UGH! And I can't even leave without getting the attention of Kristen. So I turned over to Kristen and said, "I accidentally bleed through your sheets…" She placed her 'world greatest mum' mug down and came over to me. I stiffened but she simply got me a towel out her closet and handed it to me. "No need to worry, it happens to the best of us." then she started to move around to the other side of the bed, and started taking the sheets off. "Would you like to use my shower, I'm pretty sure Techno is in the other bathroom," Kristen said, really calmly. I nodded and stood up from the bed, and wrapped the towel around my waist. I headed over to the bathroom and Kristen said, "there are products in the bottom draw, I'll get new clothes for you." I nodded, and went into the bathroom and locked the door.

I turned on the nice warm shower and hoped in. I must have been standing there for a really long time, because I heard a knock on the bathroom door. "Yes!" I called out, "Would you like me to leave your fresh clothes on the floor?" Kristen asked, "Yes, please!" I said back. I turned off the shower and waited till I could hear a door closing. Soon enough the door to the bedroom was closed, and I was swiftly able to get my fresh clothes from the door. I got my clothes out in order and went to the bottom draw to grab a pad. I got dressed and left the bathroom. I have to remember to thank Kristen later. I headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. That when I saw, all 3 boys, giving me the death stare…

I froze. I was freaking out. I hate when people stare me down. What have I down wrong? Was there anything that I have down wrong? And if so, what was it? Has this anything to do with the fact that I have a criminal record? Do they think I am a criminal and deserved to belong behind bars? Or is it to do with the fact that I went to see my biological family because I needed answers? Do they think, that I think, I don’t believe that there my family? Well I'm not there family, I've just gotten to this home, so they couldn’t think that already. Could they? Or is it because my parents are serial killers? Like what else do they want me to do???

I finally started to notice that everything in my body was extremely tenson. So I loosened up by shaking my body out. That must of triggered someone - I can't remember who - but then they started backing way. Then Techno got up and yelled, "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING??" I jumped and looked at him strangely, what was he talking about? "What are you talking about Techno?" I asked confused, with fear lacing my voice. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING, JUST STANDING THERE AND GETTING READY TO PUNCH TOMMY???? YOU KNOW HE GETS TRIGGERED BY SHAKING OF THE BODY!" Techno yelled back, I jumped harder. Was Tommy really triggered by me shaking my body out? If so then I should apologies. "Well, I didn’t know that, and I am sorry Tommy. I won't do it again." I said softly and calmly, this situation was getting out of control, when it shouldn’t. "YOU DON’T GET TO APOLOGIES AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE! YOU CRIMINAL!" Wilbur yelled back, I froze, what?  What is he talking about? I'm so confused.

Kristen entered the room after hearing the continuous yelling and asked, "boys why are you yelling?" Wilbur then yelled, "WELL YOU ARE ALLOWING A CRIMINAL LIVE IN THIS HOUSE! AND FOR WHAT CASUE? SO YOU CAN HAVE ANOTHER KID? SHE DANGEROUS MUM, AND YOU KNOW THAT! HAVEN'T YOU READ HER FILE YET?" She looked at Wilbur then back at me, "how do you what's on Lizzie's criminal record?" She questioned, you could hear the anger laced in her voice. "THAT'S NOT THE POINT MUM! SHE'S DANGEROUS!" Techno yelled back, just then the front door opened and Phil walked through.

"What is with all this yelling boys?" Phil asked, "BECAUSE WE FUCKING HATE LIZZIE AND SHE DESEVERS TO GO TO JAIL! SHE'S DANGEROUS DAD!" Tommy chimed in with his own voice of opinion. I felt hurt. Did they really hate me? Was that how they really feel about me? What did I ever do to them? Well I mean, I did just know waltzed into their lives without any clear warning. Well I mean they were told that I was coming… weren't they?

"That's no excuse to be yelling. And that is definitely no excuse to treat your sister like that." My brain froze. What did he just say? 'sister'? Did Phil just say that I am these boys SISTER? FUCK NO! I CAN’T BE THEIR SISTER! THEY FUCKING HATE ME! "SHE'S NOT OUR SISTER!" they yelled in unison, and sat back down in their seats. I stepped back, and slowly walked back over to the stairs. Then I looked at the front door, and had an idea…

I left. I just walked out. I couldn’t handle being in that house for any longer than I had to… look they all seem like nice people, but I just need a little space. Y'know to go over my thoughts. The usual…

---

Kristen's POV

I was putting the blooded sheets in the washing machine. Until I heard screaming, I was confused. Nobody in this house is allowed to scream. And they now that. I finished putting the washing in the washing machine and headed out of the laundry and into the hallway. Where I find, Lizzie trying to calm down everybody. But that’s when I noticed, she rolled her shoulders, uh oh. Bad move on her part. More yelling and fighting came from the boys, but not a single yell or scream came from Lizzie. Wow she must be a pro at this or something, cause she managed to keep her cool..

I made myself present and asked, "boys why are you yelling?" Wilbur then yelled, "WELL YOU ARE ALLOWING A CRIMINAL LIVE IN THIS HOUSE! AND FOR WHAT CASUE? SO YOU CAN HAVE ANOTHER KID? SHE DANGEROUS MUM, AND YOU KNOW THAT! HAVEN'T YOU READ HER FILE YET?" I looked at Wilbur then at Lizzie, "how do you what's on Lizzie's criminal record?" I questioned, you could hear the anger that laced my voice. "THAT'S NOT THE POINT MUM! SHE'S DANGEROUS!" Techno yelled back, just then the front door opened and Phil walked through.

"What is with all this yelling boys?" Phil asked, "BECAUSE WE FUCKING HATE LIZZIE AND SHE DESEVERS TO GO TO JAIL! SHE'S DANGEROUS DAD!" Tommy chimed in with his own voice of opinion. I looked at Lizzie, with pitifulled eyes, she looked hurt. Like really hurt, to the point of breaking. Phil then chimed in and said, "that's no excuse to be yelling. And that is definitely no excuse to treat your sister like that." Oh no, Phil just accidentally called Lizzie their sister, that’s not going to end well. "SHE'S NOT OUR SISTER!" they yelled in unison, and sat back down in their seats. I watched Lizzie step backwards, and she darted her head to the door, then I realised what she was about to do… So, I looked at Phil, and nodded, I ran out the front door and after Lizzie…

---

Phil's POV

I just got home from work, it was about 1pm in the afternoon. I am absolutely super excited to go to sleep. That’s when I heard, yelling? I quickly opened the door, forgetting to close it again, and quickly headed over to the yelling.

"What is with all this yelling boys?" I asked, "BECAUSE WE FUCKING HATE LIZZIE AND SHE DESEVERS TO GO TO JAIL! SHE'S DANGEROUS DAD!" Tommy chimed in with his own voice of opinion. I looked at Kristen and noticed she was looking at Lizzie. I noticed how hurt she looked after what Tommy said. I then chimed in and said, "that's no excuse to be yelling. And that is definitely no excuse to treat your sister like that." whoops, I just accidentally called Lizzie the boys sister. "SHE'S NOT OUR SISTER!" they yelled in unison, and sat back down in their seats. I watched Lizzie step backwards, and she darted her head to the door, then I realised what she was about to do… I looked at Kristen and nodded, I was able to handle the situation, she needed to go get Lizzie back.

After Kristen was gone, I turned to the boys and said, "Boys, you have 5 seconds to explain yourself, before I ground all of you." I said, quite angrily. I was never angry at the boys before, but this just feels different. Tommy started to speak up, after neither of the oldest where going to, "well, Techno started to yell at Lizzie for being basically coming down the stairs, then she accidentally rolled her shoulders, wasn’t her fault though, then Techno started screaming again, about her going to punch me, which I know was false. Anyways, then she apologised when she didn’t have to, then Wilbur started screaming at her for apologising to me, then that’s when you came in…" Tommy took deep breaths in and out, after having said all that.

"Well thank you Tommy for telling me this, I appreciate it-" Tommy nodded, and I looked between the boys and continued, "but however,  all of you are grounded for a month." Wilbur, Techno and Tommy, nodded and understood, the started to turn to leave but then I asked, "uh… where do you think you boys are going?" "To our rooms, because we are grounded." Wilbur said, I shook my head and then said, "no we are going into the living room and we will be waiting for Mum and Lizzie to come back, so you three can apologise, understand?" they nodded in agreement, with no hesitation.

---

Lizzie's POV

I ran, and ran, I only started to slow down, when I got closer to a park. I noticed there was swings, and I decided I wanted to swing on them to get away from reality. I walked slowly over to an empty swing, that clearly nobody was using, so I sat down, and started to swing. That's when I noticed Kristen, walking over to me. She sat down next to me on the other swing. We sat in silence for a while, until she spoke up and said, "well, what the boys said, was completely out of line. But I'm proud that you did not raise your voice once." I looked at her, she had this warm and comforting smile on her face. I slowly smiled back, looking towards the trees. I have always found comfort within nature, it is just so calming, and beautiful. I think Kristen wanted me to say something, but I decided not to, so she continued, "I know things won't be the same, as the boys know what you’ve done,  but it doesn’t change who you are to us, ok?" I nodded, and she continued, "so, I was hoping, after you sit here for a little longer we could go back home?" I looked at her, then towards the trees again. I nodded, and started the swing up again. We might've sat there for maybe half an hour, and I think I was ok to be able to go back. So off Kristen and I went, we walked down the path, and headed… home?

It took us a while to be able to walk ho- back, and when we entered, I noticed everyone else was sitting in the living room. It looked like they were going to apologise. Losers. Honestly, if they wanted to apologise, then they shouldn’t of started yelling at me. They do know that I don’t like yelling right? Wait, of course they know, they've read my fucking file already. Honestly these people are fucking---- UGH!

"So Lizzie, the boys are going to apologise for calling you a criminal, ok?" Phil said, I nodded, and the boys looked at me, they all mumbled, something, but I really didn’t notice. "So Wilbur, I hope that you will be grounded for an extra month than your brothers. After y'know, what you've read…" Kristen said, Phil looked at her, then towards Wilbur, and he nodded. "What did Wilbur do?" Phil asked in disbelief, honestly mate, do you really think your kid is a fucking saint? Like what are people's problem nowadays. Undoubtably I can't stand people anymore. Like how hard is it just to believe someone. I kinda wish I didn’t exist. "Is this true Wilbur?" Phil asked in confirmation, hoping it wasn’t true. All Wil did was nod, and that’s all the confirmation Phil needed. Phil honestly looked kind of pissed. Like yes, I get that someone has made a bad decision, but do you need to punish them for invading someone's privacy? "You all know the rules about privacy, don’t you? Or do I have to go over them again?" Phil said, he sounded mad, but I couldn’t tell if he was being funny on that last part of that conversation. Everyone shook their heads, then Kristen dismissed the boys, and told them not to come back down, unless they absolutely needed help.

Then they turned to me, they looked at me. It almost felt like pity. LIKE I SAID, I DON’T LIKE PITY! "Lizzie, are you ok? Do you need anything?" Phil asked, I shook my head. I knew I could move, but I just couldn’t feel my legs. Like what is wrong with me? Why am I so screwed up? Before I could stop myself, I noticed that I had tears rolling down my face. Without a word, Kristen and Phil, stepped closer to me, and embraced me into a hug. I flinched at the movement, but they just kept like this for about… I actually don’t know how long, I was in a hug for, but I liked it. It felt comforting, and nice. It felt like they actually cared for me. It felt like they… loved me?

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

harry and his wife going to a birthing class would be so precious !!

imagine him asking all the questions wanting to be informed as much as possible !! + him bragging to the other new parents about how proud he is of you for carrying his baby!! and him rubbing your belly throughout the class(!!) he’d be so nervous after watching a birth video knowing that you’ll have to go through that soon but he’d be so happy knowing at the end of it all you’ll have your baby (i re watched the snl skit and i couldn’t resist 🥺🥺)

soon to be dad!harry is my favorite thing ever :)

birthing class

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

"Are you almost ready, love?" Harry called from the living room. "I'm coming!" you replied, struggling to lean down. You had finally reached the point in your pregnancy where you couldn't get your shoes on by yourself. Huffing, you kicked the tennis shoes back to your closet and grabbed a pair of crocs from the shelf. Not the most fashionable, sure, but they fit and they were comfortable. Good enough.

"I'm ready," you said, grabbing your water bottle from the table. "Couldn't get my shoes on." "Oh, I could have helped you!" He cooed, looking guilty. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was sweet that he was so attentive, but it was also getting really annoying.  He acted like you were made of glass. He didn't let you do anything anymore. At first you had been fine with it- after all, you weren't about to complain that he was suddenly jumping to do the chores around the house. But sometimes you missed your independence. "It's fine, Harry," you sighed. "I figured it out. I am a very resourceful woman." "You are," he grinned, grabbing the keys from the bowl by the door. "My incredible wife." "Oh yes, I'm so incredible for putting on a pair of crocs," you said, this time not stopping yourself from rolling your eyes. His happy expression didn't change as he ushered you out the door. That was one other thing- he had been incredible throughout this whole thing. He didn't get annoyed when you snapped at him or cried at random things or woke him up in the middle of the night because you were hungry. He just kept that happy smile on his face, or rubbed your back, or went to find something to satisfy your cravings. You were more thankful than you could ever explain. "So, are you excited?" You asked him, already in a better mood as you buckled your seatbelt. He didn't mention your mood swings, another thing you were very thankful for. "I am," he admitted as he backed out of the driveway. "I'm gonna ask all the questions. I'm gonna learn how to be the best birthing partner you've ever seen." "Please don't refer to yourself as my birthing partner," you shook your head. "It's super weird." "Alright, uh... baby... delivery... support?" "Baby delivery support? Really?" You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, is it better than birthing partner?" He grinned. "Not much," you said, unable to hold back your laugh. "Why are you taking this so seriously?" "Of course I'm taking this seriously. It's learning how to bring our baby girl into the world. Very important stuff," he said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. "Yeah, but I'm just gonna get an epidural. I honestly don't know if we need this class." "Too late, we're already here," he said, flashing a cheeky smile as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Let’s go learn how to have a baby!”

-----

"Hello everyone!" The instructor chirped. She was way too cheery. "Please, choose a yoga mat. Partner sits behind mom." "See?" Harry nudged you, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. "Partner. Birthing partner. I was right." "Shut up," you huffed, elbowing him lightly. "You know I'm right," he grinned, pressing a light kiss to your ear. You did know he was right, but you would never admit it to him. So you just shook your head, leading him over to the closest yoga mat. He helped you get comfortable before he settled himself behind you, putting his legs on either side of yours and resting his hands on your belly. He put his chin on your shoulder, looking down at his hands on you. "Did you feel that?" He asked excitedly. You smiled at the fluttering feeling inside you, putting your hands over his and guiding them to where the movement was strongest. "She does that every time you talk," you informed him, tilting your head to look at him. "Really?" He grinned, looking so boyishly happy that you couldn't help but smile with him. You nodded. "She already loves you." "Well that's good, because I already love her too." You smiled at this, tilting your head more to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Before you could get too carried away, you were pulled from your sweet moment by the instructor clapping loudly. "Alright everyone, it's time to get started!" She announced, taking her place at the front of the room. "First we'll go around the room and introduce ourselves. Then I want you to say the thing you're looking forward to most in this class. I'll start: I'm Sandy, and I'm most excited to answer all of your questions, and hopefully ease any fears or anxiety you may be having." She gestured toward you and Harry next. You smiled, waving to the other couples in the room. "Hello, I'm Y/N. I'm most excited to learn about epidurals and how to go about getting one." This got a small chuckle from the others in the room, and several knowing looks and nods from the other moms. "I'm Harry," he said, lifting his hand from under yours to give a small wave. "And I'm most excited to learn about how to support my wife during the rest of her pregnancy and the delivery." Sandy nodded. "Both excellent things to learn about. Who would like to go next?" "Aw, you're sweet," you whispered, leaning back against him. "What a good husband you're being." "Please, I'm always a good husband," he grinned, turning his head to kiss your cheek. "I'm just better than everyone else here, so I look really good by comparison." You reached back to smack his shoulder playfully. "Be nice, we haven't even heard from any of the other dads yet. For all you know, one of them could totally blow your answer out of the water." "I seriously doubt it," he scoffed, speaking in a low voice so he wouldn't interrupt anyone. "Look at them. That one looks ready to bolt. Keeps eyeing the door. That one over there looks like he's gonna be sick just looking at the diagrams of the female body. And that last one- well, he actually looks fine." Just as Harry finished analyzing everyone in the room, the last man spoke. "I'm Lucas, and I'm most excited for Kristen here to have some questions answered. She's been so freaked out the whole time, it's getting ridiculous. It's like, babe, I don't know either! Why are you asking me?" Harry leaned closer to speak in your ear again. "Nevermind, maybe he's not fine." You tried very hard to keep your laughter to yourself, mostly because you felt bad for Kristen.   Sandy seemed a bit stunned by his blunt answer, pausing slightly before she regained her chirpy tone. "Um... yes! All very good goals. Let's get into it then!" Harry stretched his arms out in front of you, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, get ready for me to be the best baby delivery support you've ever seen," he said into your ear. "Lucas wishes he could be as good as me." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. You felt very lucky to have such an attentive husband, one who was even more excited for birthing classes than you

were. There was no one else you would rather have by your side. "First, we're going to go over some breathing exercises. Now, you may be thinking "I don't need to learn how to breathe, I do it every day!" but you may be surprised how much regulating your air can help with relaxation and pain relief. So, get comfortable. Moms, rest on your partner behind you. Let them support you. Partner, your job here is to hold them up and keep your breathing even. You can place your hands wherever feels comfortable. This may be on their belly, or legs, or even holding their hands." "I'm keeping my hands right here," Harry whispered, placing his hands in their previous position, right over where your baby was kicking. "Now, everyone follow me as I take a deep breath in..." She inhaled exaggeratedly, raising her arms up in the air, before she spoke again. "Then exhale," she lowered her arms. "Repeat this a few times. Inhale... and exhale." You could feel Harry's chest moving at her prompts, and you matched with him. You wouldn't tell him (his ego was already big enough) but his presence was extremely soothing. He made you feel so safe, and you were much less worried than you had been before. You usually played it off with jokes and sarcasm, but you had been pretty anxious about the delivery process. But with Harry behind you, holding you and staying so calm, you felt like everything would be just fine. After a few minutes of this, Sandy brought her arms down one final time. "Excellent! How are we feeling after this? Hopefully more relaxed." "I feel very relaxed," you said quietly, tipping your head back against Harry's shoulder. "You're good at this." "I told you," he smirked. "I have a very soothing personality." "Very soothing," you agreed. "Alright, for our next activity, we're going to go through some birthing positions. In fact, you are already sitting in an ideal position, but there are others that can be more comfortable. So partners, help mom stand up, and we'll get the birthing balls." She gestured over to the corner, where there were large exercise balls lined up. Harry helped you up slowly, making sure you were steady before he went to retrieve one. He set the ball down behind you, helping you settle yourself on it. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking up to the front for the next set of instructions. "All you have to do for this one is bounce slightly. This can help decrease back pain, and relieve pressure in your pelvis and abdomen. It can even shorten the process of labor." You did as she said, bouncing a little. "Having fun there?" Harry smiled, looking down at you. "So much fun," you quipped. "I could do this all day." After a few more minutes on the ball, and then learning several other positions, you were ready for a break. Thankfully, the other expectant mothers seemed to feel the same, and Sandy noticed. "Why don't we take a few minutes, just talk with your partner or some other couples, and then we'll regroup after that." She said, leaving you to your own devices for the time being. You sighed, leaning against Harry again. You were in the same position as you had been while doing the breathing exercises, and so were the other couples. You turned to the couple to your left, deciding to start a conversation. "How has the whole pregnancy thing been for you?" You asked. "Honestly, not too bad," the woman, whose name you had learned was Chloe, informed you. "I think William has been more stressed than I have." She patted his shoulder with a small smile. He grinned sheepishly behind her. He was the one Harry had said looked ready to bolt, but he looked much more relaxed now. "Hey, don't blame me, I'm just trying to stay informed. It's not my fault I keep stumbling upon all these horrible things." You laughed at this. "Harry's the same way. Aren't you, baby?" He smiled, blushing lightly. "He's right, there's a lot of horrible things. It's a bit scary, if I'm being honest." "Right!" William said, eyes going wide. "But it's not like I'm going to say anything about it, I'm not the

one giving birth." "Exactly!" Harry nodded. His hands were absentmindedly rubbing over your belly, so light that you weren't even sure he was aware of it. "We should have met up sooner, mate. We have a lot in common. But someone didn't want to come to the birthing class." You smiled, hitting his arm playfully. "I didn't think it was worth it, but I'm kind of glad you convinced me. This has been pretty helpful." "Chloe didn't want to come either," William laughed. "I think she just gave in because I was so stressed." "Yeah, I was sick of you freaking out every five minutes," she joked, leaning back against him. "Not every five minutes," he rolled his eyes. "Maybe every other day. Maybe." "Mhm," she narrowed her eyes at him, before they both broke into smiles. Harry kissed your cheek again, nuzzling his nose against you. "What are you doing?" You giggled, turning your head away from his tickling touch. "I just love you so much," He said quietly. "You're amazing." He spoke a little louder then, directing it toward Chloe and William. "She really is amazing, though. She had the worst morning sickness. But you got through it, didn't you?" He smiled, kissing your cheek again. "My amazing wife." Chloe nodded. "Mine was terrible in the first trimester. We almost had to go in to the hospital once, I was so dehydrated. Couldn't keep anything down." "That's how mine was, too. The only thing I could stand to eat was pickles." "Which is odd, since you used to hate pickles," Harry reminded you. "I did," you laughed. "But then one night I woke up and just had to have them. We didn't even have any in the house, Harry had to go out at three in the morning to get me some." William smiled. "I did quite a bit of that, too. Babies have weird cravings, don't they?" You and Chloe both nodded. "But I'm very thankful for my lovely husband, who is willing to get up and go to the store in the middle of the night for me," you smiled. This time it was you who kissed Harry's cheek. "Anything for my love," he said, blushing again. "Are we ready to get started again?" Sandy asked, raising her voice over the chatter in the room. "We just have a few more activities. Next, we'll go over how to put a diaper on a baby." "Oh, I'm so ready for this," Harry said quietly. He wasn't lying. He had been practicing for at least five months. When he first found out you were pregnant, he had gone to the store and bought a baby doll and a pack of diapers. He had carried the doll all over the house with him, figuring out the best way to hold it and rock it and burp it and- most importantly- diaper it. He was basically an expert at this point. Two baskets were passed around- one full of dolls, and one with diapers. Harry had the diaper on your baby before Sandy even gave any instructions. He looked up at you, incredibly proud of himself. "Good job," you smiled. "You're an expert." "Pretty much," he nodded. "I'm basically ready to be a father, I think." "Definitely," you agreed. Once everyone had figured out this step, Sandy informed it was time to move on to the last activity. "Lastly, we will be watching the miracle of life video. You might have seen this in your high school health class, but it's never a bad idea to revisit this, just for an idea of what to expect." Harry, who had been very calm and collected during this class, suddenly seemed nervous. He shifted around, tightening his arms around you and laying his chin on your shoulder again. "You alright?" You whispered, putting your hands on his forearms. He nodded, his eyes glued to the screen as the video started. You could practically feel his eyes going wide as you watched the baby being born. Each time you glanced back at him, he had the same look of mild horror on his face. Once it was over, and the woman onscreen was holding her baby, he seemed calm again. "If there are no questions, I think we'll wrap up for today," Sandy said as she turned off the TV. "Thank you all for coming! I hope you learned a lot and had some of your fears eased." "Um, I have a question,"

Harry said meekly. "How does... um... I can't help but notice... that baby's head seemed... much too large to come out of such a small place." Your face felt like it was on fire as he spoke. Your dropped your head, resting it in your hands as the instructor turned to look at him. "I just don't... what if the baby gets stuck?" "Oh my god," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Actually, that's a question many new parents have," Sandy assured him. You finally lifted your head, noticing many of the other dads were paying close attention. They seemed to have the same thought in their minds, but apparently only Harry was bold enough to actually say anything. "It can seem very scary, but the skin in that area is made to stretch in this way. Some women do have tearing, but this happens less often now that doctors know how to properly support the area. And as for the worry of the baby getting stuck, that's also something that happens very rarely. There are several methods doctors can use to deliver the baby in that case. But you really don't have to worry too much; your wife is in excellent hands. Our doctors here are first rate, and they are highly trained to handle any kind of complications." Harry nodded, looking much less worried as helped you stand up. You both waved at the couple you had made friends with, before thanking the instructor and making your way out the door. You shook your head as he opened your car door for you. "Really, Harry?" you sighed as he got in and buckled his seatbelt. "What if the baby gets stuck?" "Hey, it's a valid question!" He defended himself as he backed out of the parking spot. "You heard her. It's a question that many new parents have." You shook your head again, but didn't say anything back. You did feel a little bad for him. The video had been slightly disturbing, even for you. And you already knew exactly how it was going to go. "Well, thank you for making me go to that," you said. "I do feel more prepared now." "Me too," he smiled. "And I feel better knowing that I'm better than those other dads there." "It's not like it's a competition," you laughed. "No, not a competition, I just can't let them win." "Right, makes sense." He nodded. "But really, I'm so excited. I can't wait to meet our little baby." "I know, I can't either," you smiled, resting your hands on your belly again. "She hears you talking. She's kicking like earlier." "Is she? She's excited to meet me too." "She is," you agreed. "We're going to be the best parents. But first, we need to get McDonald's. She's telling me that's what she wants." "Oh, is she?" He smiled as he got into the turn lane for the restaurant. "Well, who am I to deny what my baby wants?"

[masculinepeacock]

figayda + 15?

Ayda hated seeing Fig this way, she was used to seeing her girlfriend energetic and fairly happy. Right now though, Fig just looked tired. When Ayda pointed this out she merely smiled. Fig and Ayda were hiding out in Ayda’s room on Leviathan, she may have shrunk her library but this was still her home, and she still had her rooms here so she could be close to Garthy.

“What’s wrong?” Ayda asked, curling into Fig slightly, trying to bring her a little bit of comfort.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Fig said and tried to hide the fact that she was crying. She quickly wiped under her eyes.

“I could try and help figure it out?” Ayda asked. Sometimes she really disliked how little she understood about how to bring comfort to Fig in times of need, even if her paramour never seemed to mind.

“It’s just-” Fig started and stopped, then wrinkled her brow. She seemed angry now, which was a quick shift, even for Fig. “It’s just. I know it’s stupid that I feel this way but I feel like I keep losing my home, y’know? And that’s not fair to anyone.”

Ayda paused, giving Fig a moment to speak more, but when she didn’t Ayda asked, “I’m not sure I know what you mean?”

“Okay well it’s like this, first Gilear moves out and home isn’t the same anymore. I follow to his shitty apartment where there’s only yogurt and while it’s not the best it’s home because it had me, Gilear, and Kristen. And it wasn’t like I didn’t know where my mom was, she never moved.”

Fig took a deep breath, like she was steadying herself, then kept going, despite the cracks in her voice, “Then she did, and I helped them move! Into Mordred Manor. Now I have so many siblings, Adaine, Tracker, Kristen, Ragh. And it’s fun! I like it! But it’s a lot sometimes y’know. But I’m a lot too so it’s okay. But now there’s no Gilear’s apartment to run to, because he lives with Hallariel and they’re weird.”

Ayda grabbed Fig’s hand as she gave a few gasping breaths, as she started to cry more in earnest. Fig wiped under her eyes again, and her knees pulled even closer to her chest. “For a little while my home was just my tour bus with Gorgug and Lola and I loved it. But that’s not gonna last forever, and I don’t necessarily want it to, I want to be able to see you whenever I want using the door!” Fig’s voice rose as she got more worked up.”But I don't know where my home is now! I feel like everything changed so fast.”

Fig let her head drop on Ayda’s shoulder, and as fast as she got loud she got quiet, “I just want it to make sense again.”

When it was clear Fig was done speaking, Ayda said, “One of the most interesting things about the world is that it’s always changing, but that doesn’t mean it always feels good when it does change.” Fig nodded into Ayda’s collarbone, where she had tucked her head at some point, and Ayda forgot what she was saying for a second. “But if you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. This will always be available to you.”

She was shocked when Fig laughed lightly and lifted her head to look Ayda in the eyes, “I love you.”

Ayda’s hair went bright as she responded, “I love you too.”

“You always know exactly what to say.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well it is to me,” Fig dropped her head back onto Ayda’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

[chandelier-s-notebook]

One afternoon five year old Tommy asks if his friends could have a watch party at Phil’s the next day. “Please please please! The Blade is going to be in a big tournament run by Lake!”

“The Blade,” Wilbur teases. “Some days it seems like you love him more than us some days.”

“Never!” Tommy shot a distraught look a Wilbur. “Please please please!”

Phil laughed. “How many friends?”

“The whole gang.”

“How many Tommy’s do I need to feed?”

“Just one!” He smiled. “And eight friends.”

“Well I’m not staying then. One Tommy is enough.”

“You love me!”

“Do not!”

“Do to!”

Wilbur stuck out his tongue at Tommy. “Minecraft Monday right?”

“Yeah!”

“I’m gonna go watch it at the Soots’ if you don’t mind. We’re going to cheer on Schlatt.”

“Schlatt’s in it?” Tommy wore the most adorable conflicted facial features.

“Awww. Tommy.” Wilbur brought Tommy in for a hug. “You watch your beloved Blade. Schlatt can tell you about it next time you come to MineVille.”

“Okay!” He batted Wilbur off of him. “I’m ready to go to Hypixel now!”

Phil laughed. He once again wondered if it was save to just let his five year old son run around Hypixel where there was nothing stopping from playing the same dangerous games as the Blade. He wondered if he should really be letting his ten year old son play with the type of kid to get invited to Minecraft Monday with the Blade. Oh well, too late to change. Besides, both of his sons have never come back home hurt.

Both MineVille and Hypixel were infinite life servers. None of that three important cannon death stuff. So they could always return to the server no matter what and they were never hurt.

After dropping his kids off, he reopened the book he had gotten in the mail. “Minecraft Monday.” He had declined the invitation but if both of his sons were excited about it, then maybe he’d have to reconsider.

Of course, it seemed that neither of his boys would be watching his perspective nor cheering him on, but they might get a kick out of seeing him in the background.

Other problem, should be really be leaving nine Tommy aged kids alone in his house? Absolutely; live life on the edge.

- - -

Wilbur ran off to meet up with Connor before stepping through the MineVille portal to prepare to watch the event with the Soots.

Phil went in with Tommy to pick up his friends. He’d met Tommy’s friends before, none of them lived in Hypixel and sometimes they’d run into each other in the Hall.

Phil followed Tommy around the Hub Server to the designated meeting spot: Hub 1 in the TNT Games Lobby. They played around in TNT run while waiting for Tommy’s friends to arrive. One by one they all arrived; Jack, Cyber and Badlinu, Tubbo, Rudy, Bitzel and Deo, and Luke.

“You’re parents are all chill with this right? I don’t think I’ve met all of them yet.”

“Yes Mr. Tommy’s Dad,” Tubbo said for the crowd. “My Homeworld is 2B2T so my parents don’t really care.”

Deo lightly jabbed the other boy in the side. “Bad example. We want to be reinvited.”

“What! I’m just being honest!”

“It’s fine,” Phil soothed the jokey tension. “Just making sure I’m not kidnapping anyone.”

“We are kidnapping someone. You!” Tommy grabbed Phil’s arm and started to run towards the portal.

“Tommy!” Phil tripped over himself a few steps but he was eventually running along with the kids. He must look crazy. It was fine. He loved his boy. Boys, but Wilbur wasn’t here right this very second.

- - -

Phil was impressed with the technology used. Lake had gotten some really good engineers working on his show. All of the competitors seemed to be outfitted with a camera on their person that’s connected to a live video feed, so anyone from any world could watch their favourte competitor.

Going in, the Blade seemed to be the favourite to win. That was a given given the audience on Phil’s couch, but some of the other competitors seemed to think that as well.

The ten of them watched the Blade’s perspective on the big screen TV. Phil kept Schlatt’s feed open on his handheld just to keep an eye on him, and gauge how Wilbur would be feeling when he got home the next day.

Over the course of four hours Phil got more and more invested in the Blade. He watched this guy tear down the competition all the while making jokes with his teammate. Like it was nothing. Like he was having fun. Like he was simply running around with his friend on the play ground.

Phil watched the Blade’s team intersect with Schlatt’s team near the end of one of the rounds. He looked to his handheld, and saw pink. This man, this killer, this winner, was a piglin. No wonder killing seemed second nature. He slashed through Schlatt in two hits.

Comm from Wilbur “This Blade guy is good.” and “No wonder Tommy likes him so much.”

- - -

Phil is in the roaster the second week of Minecraft Monday. He’s a little on the older side of the competitors at 27, but he’s put with Jerome, someone as old as he. The two mingle and bond. They get to know each other, they play off each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Well. Not yet. But they’ll get teamed together for weeks to come and they’ll learn.

He knows that his sons are watching; Wilbur over at the Soot’s in MineVille and Tommy with his buds in his kitchen.  He left his girlfriend Kristen to watch over the kids. He hopes that both she doesn’t strangle them and that they don’t send her running for the hills.

Phil spends a few minutes catching up with Schlatt, wishing him well.

He doesn’t get close to the Blade. Jerome doesn’t seem to care for him and Phil doesn’t want to make a bad first impression.

In his first encounter with the Blade he expects to know what’s going on. He’s heard plenty from Tommy and watched the first week, and he’s not a bad fighter himself. He doesn’t stand a chance against the piglin. He gives it his all, going down swinging.

He laughs as he gets teleported out of the game. He sends a comm to Tommy “Dishes for a week if I ever take him down.”

“Deal.”

Techno wins the whole show again.

Phil goes over to congratulate the piglin on his victory. The Blade tells him that he fought well.

 Tommy doesn’t shut up about that encounter all week.

- - -

Phil continues to compete week after week; getting a feel or Jerome’s play style. They become a solid team.

He also watches the Blade. He says it’s to stake out the competition. Really it’s to make sure that Tommy is picking a good role model to look up to. And maybe to learn a few things along the way.

The week that the Blade and Schlatt are teamed together and win is a very loud one for Phil.

- - -

Two weeks after that, Wilbur gets letter in the mail asking him to play in Minecraft Monday. His new friend Jack Sucks wanted to team.

He looks up at his father expectantly. Tommy is bouncing on his toes, excited for Wilbur. His older brother, in Minecraft Monday with the Blade!

“How old are you again?”

“Ten.”

“They really don’t have a minimum age on this event do they?” He puts his face in his hands. He can’t say no to his kids.

- - -

Two weeks later, Phil gets a letter in the mail regarding the next event. “You’ll be teamed with Technoblade.” He doesn’t tell Tommy.

 Phil arrives at the Lobby for the event. He gets is camera and his team placement. He, like many others, is here early and there’s still time before he needs to hook up the camera to the live feed.

“Hello Philza.”

He turns. “Technoblade.” He extends his hand for a shake.

“Techno please.”

“Phil then.”

“That works. I hope you don’t mind the teammate swap. They’ve been carting me around every week and they let me pick this time.”

“And you chose me?”

“You’re good. And cool. And I’ve heard of you before.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Phil found that hard to believe.

“Of course; you’re the hardcore guy. Working away on his world on one life for years.”

Phil blanched. “It’s nothing special.”

“As someone who neva dies and kills so very often, yes it is.”

“Oh. Well. I’ve heard about you as well.”

“Good things I hope.”

“The best things.”

 They decimate. They win by a landslide.

Phil decides that he likes this guy. They exchange comms information, and promise to stay in touch.

After the feeds turn off of course. Tommy would freak and die on the spot if he heard that interaction. Wilbur almost did, bounding up to Phil with his eleventh place ribbon in hand. He managed to keep his cool and give off a good first impression.

He teased Tommy about the conversation all week.

 Phil and Wilbur teamed the next week. They played a little game of hide and seek in the Lobby with Technoblade and Connor while they waited for the event to start.

 The week after that Wilbur got to team with Techno. Phil felt it was safe to leave his son with the piglin. He was capable, and he’d keep Wilbur out of too much trouble.

- - -

Tommy and his friends barraged Phil and Wilbur, begging to know what the Blade was like; some more than others. But once the boys were all gone, and Kristen had left back to her homeworld, and it was quiet.

Wilbur told Tommy was Technoblade was really like. How he looked out for his teammates, even when they were weaker and generally bringing down his efficiency. How he was actually just a chill dude.

Phil told Tommy about how cool it was to watch him fight up close. How you could see hoe effortlessly he used any weapon the games bestowed upon him.

They told that to little Tommy and little Tommy only. They told him how he was more than the legends said. How he was a person. How he told Phil he could call him Techno.

 As sat on the couch, his boys asleep beside him he wondered. How old was Techno? He had to be old enough to do all those things Tommy had told him about. But he still must have been pretty young if he was still as dexterous as he was. Twenty-three maybe, that sounded right. He had the build and voice for twenty-three. Maybe he’d ask one day.

The question never seemed to come to mind whenever Techno was around.

[helliontherapscallion]

⚠️⚠️⚠️!!!!SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 16 “PHANTASMAGORIA” OF ADRENALINE JUNKIE!!!!⚠️⚠️⚠️

You sat quietly at your desk. You hands traced over the worn oak wood. This was all wrong. It was too quiet. There weren’t as many papers everywhere, cute sticky notes, and no redstone handprints that were far too small to be yours.

There wasn’t nearly enough of anything.

It hurt.

God it hurt knowing that the one person you devoted so much time, and love and care into wasn’t fucking real. 

Your breathing was heavy and tears clouded your vision as you hunched over your desk, curling into yourself.

“I-I had a son-”

Your broken words make your body and lungs shudder with the force of them and your voice cracked. Your wing pressed against your back uncomfortably, a few feathers out of place, but you couldn’t care less. You had already lost a wing, what would it matter if you lost enough.

A chill filtered through the room and you shivered. The basement was not warm at all and you could barely will yourself to get out of bed and down here.

Turning around feeling something brush a few of your primary feathers gently you whipped your head around. Your eyes widened and your wing puffed up, and your mind that could barely stay awake and focus on a single of the buzzing thoughts in your mind quieted.

It became solem and disbelieving like the basement you were standing in. All you felt was cold. The cool feeling on the cement floor under your feet and the ghost- phantom?- of your son standing before you. 

“Arthur-“ 

"Hey (Y/N)!”

His cheery voice seemed to echo and you scrambled over to his translucent, misty form. It didn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. It’s not supposed to be this way. He’s fake! He’s not real!

You walk through Arthur. He’s not here…he’s dead. Or at least not here. Not alive. Arthur isn’t your prodigy anymore. He’s your son, your second half, your entire world. To find him here of all places. ’

He can’t be real. He was never real. No. No. No No No NoNoNoNoNoNo-‘ 

“Your feathers have grown since you gave me your last one! They look damaged though.”

Your tears seemed to burn into your cheeks not stopping for a second. Your hand kept phasing through the desaturated Arthur in front of you. His words imprinted themselves into your mind. After hearing his voice for so long, to hear a echo-y version of his voice.

His real voice…to see him here in front of you shiny copper hair a bit less bright, and milky white iris, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, and freckles splashed across his face, freckles all over him actually. An old jacket of your draped over his cream sweater, black pants with knick-knacks and drafts overflowing from the pockets.

A cool hand laid on your shoulder, only able to reach because of the levitation. Was Arthur taller? He looked more mature? Was he older…? What happened?

“Are you okay (Y/N)?” -Tall Soft Anon (Also sorry accidentally started this as a request >-> so ignore that also this was super fun to write, ur welcome for extra angst lolz)

You stared at his pale face in disbelief, how in the world was he here? Was this your Arthur? It had to be, he mentioned the feather you gave him. Ender, how is this even possible? An icy finger swept across your cheek, rapidly cooling the warm tear stains. 

“(Y/n)?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and screwed your eyes shut. A laugh echoed in the room, “(Y/n) you can’t hide from me, I’m finally here with you.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes and he was directly in front of you. After blinking rapidly and rubbing your eyes, he was still there. His smile was like it always was: wide, innocent, and cheerful. “H-how?”

Arthur winced slightly and glanced off to the side, “that- that doesn’t matter. I’m here (y/n), can you believe it?” A lively laugh bellowed from him, “I’m actually here!” He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a small dance. Granted he was merely moving your arms around and pulling you in circles, but despite the icy skin, he was here. He was actually here! 

A watery chuckle escaped you as you returned his grin and spun him around, some of the redstone that had found it’s way onto the floor getting blown upwards and glinting in the light, accentuating the air around you two in a flurry of red sparkles. 

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and your arms were yanked from the change in momentum. He didn’t look you in the eye, “I can’t be here forever, (y/n). Our time together is almost up, it’s almost time for you to wake up.”

You bent over slightly (he had really grown taller since the last time you saw him) and put your hands on his shoulders. “Artie, what do you mean? You just got here.” He said nothing, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small colorful magnet. It was somehow a picture of you and him when you had given him his first pair of goggles and gloves. You both were smiling cheekily at the camera with your cheeks pressed together, redstone smeared across Arthur’s face.

You looked at it before looking back at your son, “A-Arthur, what-”

He was smiling at you bittersweetly, “keep that to remember me. I… I really don’t want to be forgotten, (Y/n)… I don’t want to go yet,” his breathing picked up, “I don’t want to go!” He lunged at you and wrapped his lanky arms around your midsection, sending you to the ground in the process. You landed on your bottom with a small grunt before you made quick work of hugging him as close to you as possible. 

You placed a kiss in his bushy hair, “I’ll never forget you, my little fledgling. I promise, we’ll find a way to stay together. I won’t let anybody take you away from me again.” He clutched your jacket tighter and burrowed his head into your shoulder, sobbing loudly between multiple “I don’t wanna go”’s

“Arthur, your time here is up.” You whipped your head up to see the person you didn’t want to see: Kristin. She was looking at the scene with melancholy and a frown tugging at her lips. Arthur whimpered and hugged you tighter, his fingers pinching your skin. 

You glared at the goddess with an amount of hate you didn’t know you could harbor for someone. You picked Arthur up in your arms with slight difficulty and wrapped him in your wing, some loose feathers falling off in the process. 

“You will not take him from me. Not again.”

“(Y/n) you must understand, he doesn’t belong here.” Kristen stepped closer to you. Her intense aura was nearly suffocating. 

You turned your body away from her, “YES HE DOES. HIS PLACE IS WITH ME AND ME ONLY. I WON’T LET YOU TAKE HIM.” You ran a hand along his tied back hair soothingly. 

“Fledgling-”

“NO. YOU DON’T GET TO CALL ME THAT WHEN YOU’RE TRYING TO TAKE MY SON AWAY.”

She stood there silently for a moment before sighing wistfully, “I’m sorry for what I have to do.” Without a second word, her fingers snapped and your hand was stroking the air. You looked on in shock and anger as Arthur appeared by her side, his hand in hers. Endless tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to run at you, “(Y/N) DON’T LET HER TAKE ME!” You tried to run at them before she raised a hand up to snap once again. The last thing you heard was his terrified screaming.

“(Y/N)!” 

You shot up in your bed with your chest heaving. Eyes flickering frantically around the room, you realized that you were in your bedroom. You put your hands over your mouth in an attempt to cover up your choked sobs and let the dam break. 

Tears dribbled out of your eyes as you sobbed quietly into your hands. You just got him back, why did the universe keep ripping him away from you?! It wasn’t fair. None of this is. You just want to see his smile again.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, my little fledgling.”

You cried until the sunbeams peeked through your window and you heard the tired shuffling of Philza’s feet on the carpet and the content hums from Wilbur outside your door. They didn’t bother begging for you to come downstairs with them anymore, not after you locked yourself in your room in your grief.

A shuddering sigh escaped you as you rubbed at your stinging eyes. You reached over to grab your glass of water on your nightstand before freezing when your fingers wrapped around something that definitely wasn’t a glass of water. 

You furrowed your brows before looking down at it in confusion. When you recognized what you saw, your breath hitched in your throat and a shaky laugh escaped you.

There in your hand laid a magnet.

fuck man I’m cryin in da club rn. It was fun to write tho!

[bellylivesthepoguelife]

i need you. John B x Sarah

Request: “ Drabble request! Sort of got the idea from @alexandracheers house won’t fall story! How about Sarah is scared to talk to Ward about something, or they got into an argument and John B is there for her afterwards. Maybe a little spin on it and Sarah is still at school so John B can’t physically be there and he calls/FaceTimes with her? Thank you!! ☺️ “

Word Count: 2.5K

Author’s Note: Few things! 1) This is pure angst. Panic, fear, all of it. (I hurt my own feelings writing it so proceed w caution!) 2) I know that this does not follow the prompt exactly. I have talked with the anon that left this request, and we have decided to forego the talk with Ward, based on the direction I ended up taking this. That being said, I will be writing some other scenes with Ward because, I mean, c’mon, there’s just so much to work with there.

One last thing! This drabble was initially inspired by @alexandracheers​ work The House Won’t Fall (When the Bones Are Good) If you have not read that story yet, YOU. ARE MISSING. OUT. (Do yourself a favor: go read it and then come talk to me so we can talk about it.) Okay, here’s the drabble:

Sarah's gasping for breath as she waits for John B to answer. The photo of him blurred by her tears so she can only see the colors on the screen.

He answers on the 5th ring. "Hey Val, how's it going?" His upbeat, and happy voice makes her breakdown all over again. He's happy, probably spending the morning with JJ, making plans for the day. And now she was going to call and break them.

She tries to get a hold on herself, but the sobs don't stop wracking her body.

"Hey," John B instantly adopts the soft, gentle tone he does when she's upset. Though, he's never heard her this distraught before. "Hey. Sarah. Baby, what's going on. Talk to me."

Her whole body convulses as she's trying to catch her breath, coughing and gagging at the failed attempt.

"Sarah." His voice is steady. Not angry, but firm; calm. "Sarah, listen to me. Listen to me, okay." She quiets enough to focus on his words. "It's okay. You're okay."

But she wasn't. He had to have known she wasn't.

"You're okay. Try to breathe, okay?"

She lets out another heavy sob, and brokenly whispers his name.

"I'm right here." He soothes. "I'm right here, Sarah. I'm not going anywhere, but you need to breathe, okay?"

She really does try to even her breathing. But every time she starts to get a handle on her emotions, her mind races and spirals her right back down, again.

"Is Kristen home?" He's trying to see if her roommate is there, probably to make sure she doesn't pass out or choke on her own vomit.

Getting the one syllable "no" out is harder than it needs to be.

"Okay," she can tell he's thinking, "okay, I'm on my way to come get you. Is that okay?"

The gesture causes her throat to close as more tears stream down her already wet cheeks.

He continues, "we can stay there, or come back to the Banks for the weekend, or I'll leave you be for the weekend. Whatever you need, I just need to make sure you're okay, and I don't want you to be alone when you're this upset." He sounds almost like he's trying to convince her, like she's the parent and he desperately wants to spend the night at his friends house.

"John B." she tries his name again, though this time it sounds a little stronger.

"Yeah, Sarah, I'm here."

She'd give anything to stop the sobs that have her chest heaving, to allow her to just speak to him normally. Or for him to be able to read her mind. At this point, either or would be beneficial. "I need you, John B." And the confession has her holding the phone above her head as she covers her face with her forearms. "I don't know what to do, and I just- I really need you, John B!" She sobs again.

"Okay." She hears the panic in his voice and the shuffling of objects as he no doubt is trying to get out of the house as fast as possible. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm on my way, Sarah. I'm on my way."

When the van pulls into the parking lot of Sarah's dorm, John B is already giving himself a mental pep talk. He had stayed on the phone with Sarah for the first half hour of his trip, soothing and calming her as much as he could through the phone. When she realized that he was, in fact, coming to get her, she did calm down a minuscule amount, but was still distraught enough for him to be concerned. He had toyed with calling Wheezie to see if she knew anything about what had happened, but decided against it as he didn't want to get the girl wound up until he had all of the pieces to the puzzle.

After the first 30 minutes of their trip, she had quieted enough to the point where he could hear her breathing even out as she cried herself to sleep. This fact had wrecked the man currently driving 15 over the speed limit to try and decrease the time it took for him to get there, but he allowed himself a bit of comfort knowing that she was comforted enough by him talking that she was able to relax enough to fall asleep.

In all honesty, that probably was the best thing for her at the moment.

Since it was only midday, he didn't have to worry about checking into building. And, given the fact that Sarah had given him her spare apartment key (though, no one could know since that most definitely was a breech in her housing contract) he was able to get right into the elevator and travel to the fourth floor.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a nervous wreck. Whatever had Sarah this upset had to be at least somewhat serious. He let his mind wander, wondering if she had heard something from Ward, or Rafe. He knew that she had petitioned to file a restraining order, barring them from contacting her in any way (even though they were currently behind bars in federal prison).

When the doors opened to the fourth floor, he forced himself to clear his mind. Ready to do whatever he had to, in order to make sure she was okay. The only people he saw on his way to Sarah's room was a girl at the opposite end from where Sarah's room was, locking her door, and another group of people walk past the intersection further down.

He knocked on the door before moving to insert the key. When no one responded, he assumed Kristen must've been out for the day, and Sarah was probably still asleep. He opened the door, and immediately moved to the door that led to Sarah's room, not bothering to give the main living area a second glance.

The first thing he noticed when he softly swung the door open was that her bed was empty. A quick scan of the room, and he saw her slumped over on the floor to his left, against the wall that the door was on. John B's heart swelled at the sight of her: hair on top of her head, she wore a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, and her cheeks were caked with dried tears. Her phone lay next to her head, just next to her right hand.

He quickly shut the door behind him, and moved her phone, before kneeling down in front of her unconscious body. He just looked at her for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of waking her up, or letting her sleep her heartache off. He decided to at least move her to the bed so she could be a little more comfortable than on the concrete floor. This also allowed him to hold her for awhile, which he didn't realize he needed until he picked her up.

It was like his world came back into alignment. He could see his north star, hold her close to his chest; he was really with her.

Sarah stirred as he placed her on the bed, pausing to grab a blanket before crawling into bed behind her. He rubbed her temple with his fingertips, running them gently through her hair a little ways before repeating the motion. It wasn't long before her eyes slowly slid open to look at him.

"You're here." His heart broke for the 4th time today as her voice cracked.

He smiled down at her. "I told you I was on my way." He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she moved to sit up. He followed her movements, holding onto her hand as she looked around her room, probably getting her bearings, and refusing to look back over at him. He waited patiently for her to speak, rubbing his thumb over her hand to help ground her. He sees her hand go up to her mouth, and hears the soft sob that escapes her mouth before hes pulling her into him, hugging the right side of her body to his chest and slowly running his hands down her left arm.

"John B..." he knows she wants to tell him, she just isn't able to get the words out.

"I've got you." He promises, not knowing if it's the right or wrong thing to say as she brings her hands to her eyes, squeezing them shut and wiping at her tears. She may also be using it as an excuse to block her face from his view, and he wishes more than anything that she would take her hands away so he can see her. "Sarah," he continues, ducking his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. He knows that she feels comforted by his presence, but you wouldn't know that by looking at her right now. Her body language says that she's absolutely terrified. And that terrifies him even more. "Sarah, talk to me. Please don't shut me out, Val. Let me help you, please."

The stay like this for a few more moments before Sarah scrambles off the bed, and kneels in front of the trash can next to her desk. John B is behind her before she begins gagging, rubbing circles on her back as her body heaves. He thought his heart was breaking when he answered the phone this morning to her sobs. He thought his heart was breaking when he saw her lying asleep on the floor. But now, as he all but held her body weight against him, gently rubbing her back, and murmuring against her shoulder how much he loved her, he could literally feel the strings of his heart snapping.

Her body is shaking, weak and spent as she heaves again and again. Strangely enough, this (combined with the fact that she can feel John B's deep breaths on her back) helps to regulate her breathing enough to where she is calming down. She sniffs, and he sneaks a glance at her face, and sees her eyes are closed, right hand in her hair, left holding his. Her mouth is open as she breathes, and the tension in the air only gets heavier.

John B kissed her shoulder, and though her eyes don't open, she gives a short laugh that isn't comical in the slightest, and in the softest voice he's heard yet today, she says, "I'm sorry."

He kisses her shoulder again, not wanting to move until she did, but wanting to reassure her. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

She sniffs again, and though there are still tears on her cheeks, the sobs the had her whole body convulsing are for the most part gone. Her head is still in her right hand, and her eyes are still closed. "I'm pregnant." She confesses, opening her eyes to stare at the wall in front of her before closing again as her bottom lip trembles sporadically as she tries to fight off another breakdown now that he knows.

His mind is tripping over itself at the speed it goes, trying to think through what this means. He looks back at her face, and her eyes are still closed, but he can tell she's close to losing it again. He has no idea how long she's known.

Probably just since this morning, given the state she called him in. She was terrified, which was why she called him, but he realized that a large majority of that fear (for the time being at least) had to be at telling him. "Sarah." he turns her body around to face him which isn't difficult given how weak she is. He pulls her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her, trying to shield her from the fear and pain that she is feeling. "It's okay." He says, and he can hear her crying again.

"I'm so scared." She admits, and he adjusting his arms trying to hold more of her in an attempt to hold her together. Because he knows if he can't focus on holding her together, then he's the one that's going to fall apart. And he's smart enough to know that he has to be strong for her right now, show her that he's supportive, and still loves her. He can, and most definitely will, break down later.

"I know." He's trying to think of what to say. As if there's something that can make the situation better, that can solve all of the pain in her heart. "I know, but Sarah," he's pulling back to try and look at her, because she has to know that he means every word. "Sarah, I promise you that I am not going anywhere, okay? We can- figure everything out, we can talk about everything, make a plan, we can do whatever we need to do, but I promise you I am not going anywhere. I love you." It's a phrase they've used so many times, so many ways, but this time he says it, he can hear the emotion that makes his voice thick and fragile. He knows she hears it, too, because her hands are on his face and bringing him back from his mental spiral. "I love you, Sarah. And I'm so sorry that this happened. I know you're scared, and I'm scared, and I don't know what we're going to do but I'm going to be here, okay. I'm going to protect you, and do whatever I can to keep you safe." She gives him a smile at his rambling. He tries to return it, but he can't think straight. He's thinking about how he's going to pay for a baby, and what is going to happen to them, and how are they going to make it work with her being at school? And do they move in together, or does he move here? Does she even want that, does she even want to have his kids? He can't help but feel guilty. He thinks of how hard she was crying earlier, how upset she was, and he definitely doesn't want to be the cause of that. Yet he is, because this was his doing, too. And all of a sudden he's apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I'm sorry. I know you didn't ask for this, and I know it hurts and-fuck-I'm just so sorry." He's crying, and she's been crying. Any other time and they would be laughing over the absurdity of them holding each other on the floor in the middle of her dorm room on a Thursday, and they probably will laugh about it. Maybe even sooner rather than later. But for right now, they let themselves be afraid. They allow themselves to grieve the plans, and futures they had in mind. Because even if they don't keep this baby (which John B thinks is highly unlikely, but he'll support her in whatever she decides) their relationship has changed. There will always be a before, and an after. This is the catalyst, the moment that it all changes. And for right now, they let themselves feel every part of it. 

[votederpycausemufins]

Alright, time to work on tying up loose ends ish. i think there’s like... 2 chapters left after this? idk, I’m still writing!

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

While most everyone wanted Grifter dead, the fact that he was the only way to free Xannes made them keep him alive. They did manage to get the Listener to let him out, but at the same time, he let his own family out as well before disappearing with them. Fortunately as they left, the world rolled back, undoing all the damage as well as leaving Grian rather grumpy that his hard work was gone.

Shortly after that, everyone had to keep Grian and Techno apart when the avian tried attacking him for being near Grum, who to Grian’s annoyance seemed perfectly fine around the warrior. He reluctantly accepted it, only to get piled on again as he tried to make a second nest. 

Xannes hacked them all out of the castle, at least those he could. Kristen and Joe followed on their own a few moments later, everyone soon at the quartz mansion. Grian was immediately after as many blankets as he could obtain, Tommy laughing, but quickly helped out. 

Kristen stayed for a bit, long enough to officially say hello to Grian once he was lucid enough, but stayed longer after Grum clung to her leg and refused to let go. Eventually she relented and got pulled into Grian’s blanket nest, Grum running off to drag Techno in next.

“So… how have you two been?” Kristen asked, before correcting herself. “Besides this whole mess that got me involved.”

“It’s been pretty pog since I found Grian. We didn’t even know we were related until, what? A week ago?”

“I’m sorry. I honestly had no clue.” Kristen apologized, but Grian shrugged.

“I don’t blame you. I ended up in a world that death didn’t seem to exist in, at least not really. People who died showed up as ghosts. So even if I did remember your job, I wouldn’t have blamed you there. Then there were the Watchers, and then apparently Zed’s been dealing with things in Hermitcraft. I- are you two related?”

“Yes, we’re siblings.” Kristen replied, shocking both Grian and Tommy.

Zedaph, who was nearby, stepped closer. “Why do you look so shocked? I thought you knew, or at the very least I thought Grian knew.”

“Is that why you acted so casual when you asked me to kill myself?!” Grian balked, making Kristen whip around to look at Zed.

“You asked him to what?!”

“It was for a game! I asked a number of hermits to see who could kill themselves the fastest for a prize! Honestly, I don’t see what the problem was since he started Demise a year later.”

“That was sort of my last shot to find anyone. I thought so much death would make Mum show up.”

“Well, as far as I know, she wasn’t even showing up for Phil after you left, so not like there was much hope there.” Tommy shrugged, though he said it in a joking manner. It still made Kristen frown before Tommy elbowed her. “Hey. It’s fine. I mean, we’re meeting you now and not before we found each other again, so that’s pretty pog too.”

As the two of them chatted, Grian managed to find some paper and ink and started putting together a quick family tree before handing it to Techno to fill in the blank of Fundy’s mom. “Alright, so Wil, Techno, Tommy and I are the kids of you and Phil. Wilbur’s got Fundy with someone named Sally?” Grian quickly looked to Techno who nodded. “Sally. Mumbo and I built Grum and Jrum, meanwhile Techno and Tommy don’t have any kids.”

“Yeah I’m still looking for the ladies.” Tommy jokingly boasted, getting some chuckles from those nearby.

“And I don’t see the point in relationships.”

“Aro, got it.”

“I prefer fireworks. I don’t need arrows.”

Grian stifled some chuckles before continuing. “You’re siblings with Zed, who’s currently with Impulse and Tango, which I’m not going to go further into for my own sanity. And then you and Dad are immortal or something, so who knows about your parents.”

Kristen nodded. “Good, but you’re forgetting your uncle.”

Grian showed off the chart. “What? No, I’ve got Zed there with Impulse and Tango. If you’re going with the misconception that Worm Man is related, I’ll have you know that Poultry Man has assured me that’s not the case. Plus Zedaph has an interview with Worm Man and they are definitely in the same place.”

Kristen half nodded. “Oh, I’m sure that’s very much the case. However, I’m talking about Phil’s brother.”

“Mum, I’m glad to meet you and everything, but could you have waited like another week to drop that on us too?” Tommy asked as Grian looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown.

“So, should I not mention he has-”

“Nope! Not now! And we’ll ask dad ourselves.”

“I was just a hermit a week ago. I was technically still an orphan. I had the hermits as a family. Now some of them are really my family. Why? Why? Why is this happening?”

“Okay G, time to go to bed.” Tommy said, pulling one of the blankets out of the nest and throwing it over Grian’s head, hoping the darkness would kick in Grian’s parrot brain and get him to calm down. 

It was just at the right time too, because the door opened with Phil coming into the building. “How’s everyon- Kristen?!”

From there, all of the family currently in that world - other than Zedaph - ended up in Grian’s blanket nest. They chatted a bit before Kristen eventually had to leave, though she made sure to let all of them know how to call her if there was an emergency. Zedaph finally joined to take her place, getting glared at by Grum of all people. “You doing alright there?”

“I’m upset I didn’t know you were my uh… great uncle?”

“Grunkle has a better ring to it.” Zedaph smiled, but Grum just pouted and crossed his arms before being pulled into a hug from Grian. “But yeah, I’m sorry Grian. I can’t believe I never noticed you didn’t know.”

“No, it’s fine. I had a crazy enough story with my family growing up, what’s five more.”

“Five?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Grian started counting on his fingers. “Finding out that Tommy was my brother, the whole situation Techno caused, finding our Zedaph is related to me, finding out you’ve got a brother, and then Mum mentioning there was more to that.”

Phil sighed. “Oh, she told you about that? Okay first off, we’re half brothers, so that’s normally why he’s left out of things. Plus, he’s been doing his own thing for a while. I haven’t really heard from him since his letters about Minecrack.”

Grian paused, processing that new information before grabbing one of the blankets and screaming into it, Grum patting his dad on the back.

“Is he okay?” Phil asked, making Zedaph shake his head.

“Some of the hermits used to live there, so one of them might have met your brother. Sorry, half brother.”

“Ah, good to know.”

Grian slowly put the blanket down. “Okay, obviously talking is just making things worse. How about we all shut up for like… ten minutes while we still have some peace? I’m scared if we try much else, something else will come out of the woodwork and make things worse again.”

“Ugh, normally I’d hate not talking,” Tommy piped up with an agreeing groan. “But for once, you’ve got a point.”

“For once?!”

Tommy didn’t say anything else, just mimed zipping his lips up, locking them, and throwing away the key.

.

.

.

Grian woke up, glad it wasn’t from a nightmare. He, Tommy and Grum were the only ones left in the nest from before, but he smiled upon seeing the empty space had been given to Tommy’s friends. Ranboo seemed to have been dragged in based on his awkward position, likely by Tubbo and Michael who seemed much more comfortable.

Looking around, it didn’t seem anyone else was in the room, voices coming from elsewhere in the building. Grian carefully moved Grum closer to Tommy, the bot happily clinging to the teen instead. He then pulled himself out of the nest, doing his best not to wake anyone in the process.

He was glad to see everyone looked calm and nothing immediately seemed concerning. The closest thing was what looked like a living diamond walking around, but the fact that no one else was concerned made it less worrying. “So, who’s the new… person I think.”

Phil looked over to where Grian was standing now. “His name’s Skeppy. When the world got repaired, the people that weren’t already revived showed up. It also fixed my wings.” And he let one of them open up so Grian could see.

“Good to know. Nothing bad’s happened yet?” Grian asked, and Phil shook his head. “That’s good. Once Grum and Tommy are away, I’m going to be taking them home. I mean, unless Tommy wants to stay, because he might want to see people again, but Grum still needs repairs. Plus I need to talk with Mumbo about something I found out.”

“Anything bad?”

Grian shook his head. “Not necessarily, just something we need to be aware of.” Then Grian was quiet for a while before speaking up again. “You know, ever since I found it again, I’ve been taking care of the castle.”

“You mean… back in-?”

“Yeah. The place I grew up in has way too many bad memories attached. Evo’s gone and my building world is lonely. Hermitcraft is the closest thing I have to a home, but being able to take a break and go back there helps.”

Phil smiled. “Well, you’ll have to show me what you’ve done with the place.”

“Yeah.” Grian smiled. “I’ll try to visit with Tommy plenty. I’m sure you want to stay here now that it looks like things are calmed down. I’m sure you’ll want to visit us, or at least someone will, so I’ll look into that.”

“Just don’t go silent for eighteen years.” Phil joked, making Grian whack him in the back of his head with a wing.

From there, the two of them chatted, catching up. Both of them avoided the more unfavorable topics, which was a bit tricky, but they managed. At least they did for a while. “Hey… I’m sorry. I know I screwed up with Tommy.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Grian said, ruffling his feathers. “Enough has happened. I don’t want to talk about serious stuff right now.”

“Well who knows when we’ll get another chance.”

Grian sighed. “Fine, but I’m making it quick. Since you’re not going to be around, I’m just trusting you’ll maybe do better. I can check in any time I want, so just know if you screw up, there’s a good chance I’ll see it. There’s a good chance I’ll break down your door if I heard more stories from Tommy, but for like the next week or so, you’re safe. Is that good enough?”

Phil hesitated for a moment before responding. “Alright, sure.”

As soon as he responded, Grian went back to the other room, glad to see Tommy was awake. When Grian replayed the options to Tommy, the teen thought it over before deciding he would stay behind for a little bit at the very least. He didn’t want to disappear while Ranboo and Tubbo were both asleep. Grian made sure Tommy still had NPG’s old comm so that he could call for Grian to pick him up again.

Grian carefully picked Grum up, the bot clinging to his chest, then he opened a portal to take them home. 

.

.

.

Grian was glad that the repairs ended up being mostly his job to fix. The redstone seemed unharmed, save for right near the trident wound and Grum’s buttons. Technically the buttons themselves were mainly aesthetic anyway, but some redstone was close by so they needed to be careful.

Once everything was fixed, they plugged Grum in to be safe and then Grian started explaining what he had learned. Mumbo was surprised and excused himself briefly to try contacting people for information. For the most part, he was able to get help, but in terms of whatever glitch the bots had, the information was too vague for anyone to get a good guess.

Grian got Xisuma to take a look, but unfortunately the admin couldn’t figure anything out. Neither could Xannes, but that was affected by NPG wanting to go home soon and check in his aerbunny.

With no other options, Grian was ready to use his Watcher magic, but he was quickly interrupted. Suddenly Grifter was there and threw himself into Grian’s arms, leaving the Watcher struggling to hold his double up before just dropping him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding?” Grifter answered innocently. “I kinda messed up, though Dad did too.”

“What did you do?” Grian growled as Grifter stood up and dusted himself off.

“Okay, so dad wanted me killing Nightmare. That’s cool, I did that. He just kinda let it slip his mind that he didn’t tell Punch. So now until Dad talks him down, I’m hiding here! Also watching for spies. Who knows where they could be hiding.”

Grian half groaned, half sighed. “How do I know you’re not going to destroy the place?”

“Uh, because that would make it obvious I’m here, duh. Look, just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I mean, if it’s something other than leaving. I’m sticking here because if I get seen here, he’ll assume it’s just you. Wait, I’m going to need to get out of my new look. That’s no fun, I really like th-”

“Okay shut up for like five seconds. I don’t have the patience for this today. You said there was something of a glitch with my kids. Tell me what it is or fix it or something and you can stay for a bit. If you cause any trouble, you’re out though.”

“Oh yes of course!” Grifter responded, hugging Grian. “Okay, so the problem is kinda pretty simple. They aren't completely connected to this world so other data is being used to check where they’re from. If everything’s just within this world, it’s fine, but it fucks up their respawn if it’s not.”

“That’s… that’s it?”

“Yup! Just tell your admin and I’m sure he can- OH FUCK! Gimmie your bowwwww!” Grian suddenly started doing his best to climb Grian, having little luck with them being the same height. Grian did his best to keep his balance before seeing what exactly was freaking his hels copy. Nearby, a chicken had walked into view, and apparently that was the problem.

Grian gave a deadpan look before killing the chicken, which immediately calmed Grifter down. “You were scared… of a chicken?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I said he could be sending spies!”

“And… those are chickens?”

“Yes! Of course!” Grifter exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Grian wanted to sigh in exasperation, but then he realized that this was good news. If for some reason Grifter acted up, well, a certain hero could help save the day.

“Alright, maybe this might not be the safest place for you here, but you can stay.”

“Why? Why isn’t it safe? Are there lots of spies?”

“Oh, we have the worst one yet. His name is Poultry Man. Have you ever heard of him.”

“I have! I thought Xannes was lying! He’s really real?!” Grifter asked, trembling, making Grian have to hold in laughter.

“Well, he hasn’t been around for a while, but who knows? If - you said Punch? - if he’s looking for you, Poultry Man might show up.”

“Oh no! Do you have anything to stop him?”

Grian couldn’t help the sly smile that got onto his face. “Well…”

.

.

.

Grum watched as Mumbo looked through a bunch of books. He had gotten fixed up, but his daddy said there was still something they needed to figure out, so Dad was out doing that. But he had left a while ago and sitting in one place for a long time was getting boring. “Daddy, how much longer do I have to wait here?”

Mumbo jumped slightly before looking up from his book, which just made Grum frown. Obviously he had been forgotten about. “Um, well, I suppose that depends on what your dad does.”

“But I’ve just been sitting here for ages.” Grum crossed his arms.

“I know, but apparently there’s a bug in your system and until we can identify it, we want to keep you safe. You’ve already been through a lot, I’m sure you don’t want anything more happening.”

“But Daddy I-”

“Grum, this isn’t up for discussion.” Mumbo cut the bot off, who flinched back at the harsh tone. “I know. I don’t like it either. But sometimes the harder options are the better ones.”

Grum was quiet again, just thinking. Mumbo started to look at his book again, but then the bot spoke up once more. “Is it about Console? Or my chat in general?”

“What?” Mumbo looked back up, confused.

“Well, Jrum’s not here, so it has to be something that’s just me, correct? That would likely involve when the admin was using me as a console or the fact that I have gained a chat like Techno, Phil and, based on conversation, Dad.”

“Oh, you mean MFDD? At least I’m still pretty sure that’s what we said it was. I’d have to go digging for my old books again. And Grian might have them at this point.”

“What’s MFDD?” Grum asked, tilting his head.

“It’s the abbreviation for the condition we’re pretty sure Grian has. But it’s a condition that last I checked, was still in a sort of odd state, and I’ve been in Hermitcraft since school, so I’m not updated on it.” Mumbo glanced over to Grum, who just looked confused. “Right. Well, the simple version is that’s what the real name of your Dad’s ‘chat’ is. MFDD. But based on what he told me, that’s not what you have.”

“Oh. Wait, I don’t?” Grum asked, sounding worried and slightly panicked.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s nothing bad. I’m sure we’ll need to get it properly diagnosed, but the fact that you seem to have what’s like… multiple people in your mind and they can sometimes be in control, along with the fact that it happened after… stressful events. That all likely means it’s DID. Which essentially means you have multiple personalities.”

“And is that good or bad?”

Mumbo rubbed his mustache. “Well, I don’t think it’s necessarily good or bad in and of itself. I wish I knew more about this… In short, it’s at the very least not bad. Or at least not bad if you don’t let it be bad.”

“I still don’t understand.” Grum frowned, leaving Mumbo to try and figure out some other way to explain.

“Hmm… It’s. Uh… Well let’s see. Well it… no that wouldn’t make sense. It’s… Oh! So, when you’re building, say you make a house. And the house has a bunch of rooms. It’s all one house, but there are different rooms and um… well each one has its own person.” Grum nodded along, mostly understanding. “And well, you own the house even though others live there. Because you own the house, you’re in charge.”

“But sometimes I’m not. Like Console and Eyes decide to be in charge or I let them.”

“Well, sometimes something… happens. Like maybe you’re busy… cooking? And so if you’re doing that, someone else gets to be in charge. Or maybe you just want to… sit on the couch?”

Grum’s digital mustache twitched in thought before he nodded. “Okay, I think that makes sense.”

Mumbo nodded, turning back to his books before sighing, glad that what he made up on the spot worked. 

“Mumbooooo! I’m back! I figured out what’s wrong! We need to take the boys to Xisuma!” Mumbo jumped from Grian arriving, then was confused to see two of him.

“Why is Grifter here?”

“Long story, it’s fine for now, we need Xisuma. Let’s go go go!”

Mumbo just stared for a moment before sighing and shrugging before going to get Jrum. It didn’t seem like anything bad was happening, so there was a fifty fifty shot it really was fine. Maybe less since there were two Grian’s involved, but it was something Mumbo came to expect with Grian in general.

[swarmkeepers]

Ooooh - 16, for Riz and any other character(s) you wish!

16. knows your schedule from the back of their heads (and gets shocked when there is a sudden change to your routine) + Riz & Fig (& Kristen)  (prompts linked here)

(set during the stretch of time in freshman year where Fig, Riz, and Kristen are all living in Strongtower together, because they’re good friends who make vending machine treks together and I for one always want to see more of that! Fig’s POV)

Leaving Gilear’s apartment in Strongtower instead of walking out the front door of her house (her mom’s house) over by the highway is—new. Fig can deal, but it’s new. She puts her bass on her back and walks down the hall and almost brains herself on a door that opens right into her path.

“Oh, hi Riz!” He’s wide-eyed and looks more awake than Fig feels at this hour.

“I didn’t know you lived here.”

“I’m staying with Gilear,” Fig says, and doesn’t elaborate. Riz just nods and hefts his briefcase and they fall into step down the hall. It’s new, for Fig, but Riz seems comfortable enough and she can be comfortable too. 

--

Almost every morning, Riz opens the door almost directly into her face (the hallways in Strongtower are narrow and probably a fire hazard, but it’s not like anyone checks) and Fig just dodges and then walks with him to school. Sometimes he talks her ear off about the latest thread he’s following in the rabbit hole that is the missing girls’ case; sometimes she talks his ear off about the lyrics she scribbled down right before bed. They’re both loud, but they don’t really clash.

Every afternoon, Riz disappears home to his apartment or to stake out some new lead or whatever smart person thing their detective does while Fig goes to Sig Figs band practice with Gorgug or to the diner to get a snack and talk to Gorthalax after he finishes up with the bloodrush team or to the hospital to try to catch a glimpse of Dr. Asha in the lobby. 

Whenever she gets home and walks down the hall to try to grab a snack from the vending machine, Riz happens to be there too, picking out his super salty super sour salt and vinegar chips or off-brand Monster Energy. Fig waves hi. Riz waves back. 

--

Fig keeps a wide berth so she doesn’t get smacked by the Gukgaks’ door but no one opens it. It’s only a minute later that Riz stumbles into the hallway, rubbing his eyes with one hand and flicking his tail irritably side to side as he looks hurriedly in both directions. He sees Fig and starts dashing to catch up. 

“I thought I was late,” Riz huffs.

“You’d still make it to school in time, it’s not eight yet,” Fig says, a little confused.

“No, I— never mind.”

He looks tired—Riz always looks a little tired, but he looks more tired than usual, his hair poking out in weird directions under his cap and one of the buckles on his briefcase not closed. Fig digs for something in the side pocket of her guitar case. “I got some of these chocolate covered coffee beans for Gilear, did you want some?”

Riz looks at her quizzically, but he takes some when she pours a few out of the bag into his hand. “I thought maybe the bean part would be familiar enough that he’d eat them, I’m trying to get him to try new foods,” Fig explains as Riz crunches down on one. 

“Thanks, Fig. I think Gilear would like these,” Riz says. “They’re pretty good. Not as good as real coffee, but.”

“Oh, like you ever drink ‘real coffee’ and not ice cold stuff from the night before.”

--

Fig’s leading Kristen down the hall after she’d shown up with only her wide eyes and her backpack and her copy of On the Subject of World Religions glowing in a clenched fist. They’d gotten Kristen settled as much as possible in Gilear’s apartment, her stuff all set up alongside Fig’s, and now Fig’s trotting down the hallway twenty minutes after she usually makes her vending machine trek. She rounds the weird corner that the hallway has and finds four feet of very intense looking goblin blocking her way. 

“Where were you?” Riz narrows his eyes at her. On anyone else, this would look accusatory: he’s talking fast and staring her down and occupying the hallway like a tiny one-man barricade. Well, staring her up, actually—Riz’s height doesn’t give his attempt at intimidation a lot of help. But his real tell is his tail, arcing from where he was nervously fidgeting with it wrapped around him up into a happy question mark over his head when she appeared around the corner. 

“Aw, were you worried about me?” Fig teases, and Riz pretends to roll his eyes. “I didn’t know you knew when we usually came through your hallway.”

“Of course I do,” Riz says, like memorizing your friends’ schedules is normal and not the kind of incredibly endearing thing Fig never expected from this ragtag band of Bad Kids. Like Riz, who’s probably one of the smartest people Fig will ever know, is going to use up space in that giant brain of his to do things like poke his head out of his door every day when she comes by and pretend like that’s nothing. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” Fig says, “Kristen just came over because her parents are being closed-minded dipshits and she’s staying with us now.” 

She points her finger down the hall, where Kristen loudly agrees, “Fear-based motherfuckers,” as she rounds the corner. Her backpack is still faintly glowing from the cantrip she cast on her copy of On the Subject of World Religions, and it’s helpfully lighting up the hallway here where one of the bulbs in the ceiling has burnt out. Fig watches Riz clock all of this and not ask any more questions. He’s always asking questions, but he does understand that some things you just take in stride. 

“Do you wanna go to the vending machine together?” Kristen asks, and Fig already knows Riz will say yes before the words come out of his mouth. Riz always comes along to the vending machine.

It’s their routine.

“If I get a string cheese and you get crackers, we can make cheese and crackers for dinner!” Kristen says, looping an arm around each of their shoulders. She has to reach down to get to Fig’s, and even further down for Riz’s. 

“Let’s definitely do it. And also Gilear has a ton of yogurt.”

“I’ll eat the expired stuff, I don’t care,” Riz says, and Kristen drags him along down the hall. Fig doesn’t listen—she knows he’s going to get his usual off-brand but surprisingly good super sour sour cream and super stinky onion chips, and she’s gonna look disgusted at him and get herself a far superior bag of barbeque, and today Kristen will join them as they sit on the floor of Gilear’s apartment and eat anything but yogurt for dinner.

It’s their routine, and Fig’s proud to know it. 

from the prompt list linked here! (i’m closing prompts from this particular list because i have so many ones to get through already, but thanks!)

[chitto]

Borrowed Time - 1

Based on this post

Life had a natural order. Those that died were dead, their matter going on to create new life. This was one of the base principles of living. Which is why managing Limbo was so difficult for the Goddess of Death. She wished she could bring back every soul there but she knew it was out of the question.

‘I would only save three, Phil. Just three. I’d bring them here and they could be happy.”

“Who are they, dear?”

The two were at dinner. It wasn’t often the Goddess of Death and her Angel were able to meet but they were still as deeply in love as when they first laid eyes upon each other. Phil had listened to her say this same thing many times before, but she seemed more committed to the idea this time.

“The first boy was killed in a war. He was protecting his younger siblings. He was the only one of his family that died. His name was an old family one. Technoblade. Hoglin for bravery.”

“He sounds like a fighter. Maybe I could apprentice him.” Phil knew he shouldn’t get attached. But he couldn’t help it. He needed something to liven up the house while The Goddess was out.

“The second was forgotten. He wandered into the woods and got lost. No one even bothered to search for the poor thing. He was only a mile away his house as well. His name was Wilbur, he didn’t have a last name. His name was written on the tag of his sweater.”

“How heartbreaking.”

“The third is the worst, Phil. He didn’t have a name. He was just a baby. He was left in an alleyway. He doesn’t even have a limbo, just blank space around him. I’ve taken to calling him Tommy.”

“You’re sold on this, aren’t you? Saving them.”

“Its the right thing. We should let them live again. We’ll raise them to be happy.”

“The gods won’t like it.”

“To hell with them. Between you and I we can keep them safe.”

The Goddess reached her hand out, grabbing Phil’s. A soft smile grew on his face as he looked at her.

“Okay. Okay. But I can’t do this all alone.”

“I never expected you to. I’ll be there. I promise.”

And so that night the Goddess of Death returned with three boys. The quiet Techno, a cautious Wilbur, and a loud Tommy.

The first morning was hard. Neither Phil nor Kristen took into account that they didn’t know how to take care of a baby. Phil made mushed bananas for Tommy but was at a loss when it came to Wilbur and Techno. He never normally ate breakfast. He decided to make pancakes.

They were...not the best. They were runny and slightly overcooked but Techno and Wilbur ate them with no complaints.

“You two were hungry, then? Suppose they’re not really feeding you in the-”

Kristen shot him a look. Phil stopped mid-sentence. They decided on one rule. The children weren’t to know about their previous life. It would be too painful.

“Oh nevermind. How about we go to the market over in town, ay boys? You two can pick out whatever you’d like.” Phil changed the subject quickly. Wilbur and Techno’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” Wilbur asked.

“‘Course. We’ll get you both some books as well.”

Techno and Wilbur looked at eachother, huge smiles plastered on their faces. The two quickly finished their breakfasts and ran to get changed.

Phil walked over to Kristen, who was holding Tommy in her arms. “Maybe we can do this.”

“I always knew we could.”

---------------------------------

The palace was cold. It was on of the things DreamXD liked about it. The absence of warmth, no way to get attached to anything. Attachments were fickle anyways, a thing for mortals. Gods had no attachments. They had no children, no lovers, no friends. The view from the peak of the world is a lonely one.

A sly fox creeped around the corner of a hallway, approaching the throne DreamXD sat on. The fox morphed quickly into an owl and landed on his shoulder.

“What’s this? The Goddess of Death has taken three children from Limbo?” A frown was cast upon his face.

“She believes she’s so high and mighty. The Goddess of Death. She got away with her marriage by making that man her Angel but this? I’d like to see her try.”

The owl looked at DreamXD, seemingly awaiting a new order.

“Keep your eyes on the situation, Harpocrates. Update me. We’ll choose a moment to strike. For now I need to discuss with the other Gods.”

Harpocrates shifted into a bat and flew off. DreamXD huffed.

“You will learn one day, Goddess of Death. There is a natural order. And you will follow it.”

[friendlylocalwhumper]

retirement

“Adrian, how smart phones were developed. Your expert is Mrs. Langley.”

The class murmurs with jealousy as Adrian is assigned a teacher - not only is she fun and friendly, but she works in this same building. An easy assignment. Someone mutters about how he got an easy one because he’s the teacher’s nephew.

“Kristen, the politics of the nineties. You have a retired senator to interview for this one, isn’t that fun?”

The goody-two-shoes students make impressed, interested sounds, while the rest shift in their seats waiting to hear who they’ll be assigned.

“Okay, this next one will be a group of three, because the source always talks too much for one student to catch all the details.” She opens her mouth to continue, but already, kids are groaning.

“Not the one from-”

“Not the old-”

“Come on, Mrs.-”

She speaks over them, used to the complaints by now. “Sheela, Maxim, and Zach, you three have Quinn Mae. You’ll be interviewing them about-”

“The history of the magic community,” Recite the three named students in unison, one rolling their eyes, one slouching in their seat, and one clenching their jaw.

“Yes. That one’s just down the street, so I don’t want any excuses. A late assignment isn’t acceptable at this level. I want an essay from each of you. Mx. Mae will give you plenty to work with, so no copying.”

~

The retirement home is nice enough, all neat and studded with simple, pleasantly neutral furniture. The generic art on the walls gives an aura of charming, if manufactured peace. The deep ticking of a grandfather clock warms the lobby. A smiling lady at the front desk offers caramel candies to all who drag their feet past her.

None of it quite makes up for the walkers left lying around, or the smell of old people, or the tired sass of the caretakers walking around briskly. To a couple of teenagers, it’s the worst place in the world to be. Boring beyond measure, and the old ladies will grab you by the wrist to say something about how your hair looks, or what you’re wearing, or whether they think you’re their grandkid.

The receptionist informs the kids that the senior citizen they’re looking for is on this floor, with all the residents who don’t need supervision. “Quinn Mae is a feisty one,” She says with a fond smile. “They’re all mild-mannered, know all the right things to say, until suddenly your name tag is missing, and they’ll only give it back if you catch them with it. Smug little smile. Watch your wallets and phones, kids.”

Maxim is the only one who doesn’t smile politely at the advice and very adult-like oversharing. The three proceed into the lobby, briefly arguing about which hallway the receptionist said to go down.

“You three lost?” Says some old bag of bones on the lobby couch, wrinkly fingers wrapped around the edges of a newspaper. Thin wire-framed glasses sit low on a flat nose, hanging on for dear life. Dull white hair lies in limp curls on slender shoulders, big faded freckles spread across cheeks that have seen more sun than any other retiree that ambles past.

“No, sir,” Sheela says with bare-minimum politeness.

“Not sir,” Sasses the old person gently, folding their newspaper.

“Uh. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Not that either. Were you asking about Quinn Mae at the front desk?”

“Yeah. You know ‘em? What room’re they in?” Asks Maxim, stepping forward. His bushy eyebrows are cocked with frustration and slight amusement, as if anything the retiree says will be made fun of later.

The senior citizen gives a bare smile, a hint of a quirk to thin lips. “Room one-seven-three, young man.”

The students talk amongst themselves, eager to agree that that was the number the receptionist gave them and get away from this old person who will surely trap them in boring conversation if they linger. Off they go, down a hallway they were gravitating toward anyway, searching for room 173.

Five minutes later, they’re back, looking disgruntled. “Unless Quinn Mae’s disguised as an old lesbian couple, wrong room, old guy,” Grumbles bushy-brows.

“Not a guy,” Reminds the lobby couch-warmer. “Forgive me, you said Quinn Mae? That’ll be room one-twenty-six.”

Off they go again, the grumpy boy nudging at the girl who glances back at the retiree paging through a newspaper and pointedly not watching them go down a different hallway this time.

It’s ten minutes later, this time, that the kids return. One of the boys goes over to the front desk while Maxim and Sheela return to the old person on the couch.

“Okay. Try again, grandpa. Not one-seventy-three, not one-twenty-six. Quinn Mae. Where is Quinn Mae? We’re here from the high school, doing a school project. Old geezer probably talked about us coming, all excited, since nothing else happens here. Where’s Quinn Mae?”

Sheela’s looking at this person with white curls, wise brown eyes, and a slowly spreading, sly smile. She doesn’t join in as Maxim grills them for answers. The retiree looks over the disgruntled boy, then finally meets the girl’s eyes.

“You’re Mae, aren’t you?” She accuses.

Finally, that newspaper is folded and lowered. Quinn nods.

Just in time for them all to hear from across the lobby as the receptionist sighs and nods to the couch, informing Zach, “That’s Quinn Mae right there. They gave you the runaround, didn’t they?”

Maxim looks flustered, but Sheela speaks first. “Mr. Mae-”

“Mx. Mae, if you please.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Mx. Mae, we’re supposed to ask you about the history of the magic community.”

Quinn gives a soft, wobbly hum. They flip over the paper in their hands and run an age-softened finger over a line of text. “Young Man Found Beaten, Rescued. That’s what this article is titled. That sound odd to you?”

Sheela shakes her head. Maxim frowns.

“The article goes on to mention that the young man has magic. Mentioned, not announced as the clear reason he deserved to be beaten. When I was forty, this headline would’ve been, Warlock Found Alive, Scaring Citizens.” Approaching to listen, the other boy, Zach, winces at the word warlock. That word hasn’t been okay to use for years. “When I was your age, there wouldn’t have been a story printed in the paper about it at all.”

“Yeah. They were killed in the streets back then. No statistics on it ‘cause no one cared. We know all this,” Complains Maxim. “Times changed.”

Brown eyes scan across the teens before settling on the one who spoke. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” Replies Mae, looking wistful for a moment before they add, “Someone unintelligent. Times haven’t changed much if a person with magic is still beaten for being warlock scum, have they?”

“Language, Quinn,” Reminds one of the caregivers, pushing a cart of sheets and towels over to the service elevator.

“Oh, heavens, did I do it again? I’m sorry, Julie!” They offer her a kind, harmless smile until she’s out of sight. The teenagers catch a glimpse of the retiree rolling their eyes. “The younger ones don’t understand. I’ll forgive them for it, it’s what I fought for. The luxury to be ignorant without it costing lives.”

None of this aged-revolutionary talk impresses the kids. One of them even looked incensed by it. Quinn’s eyes, having wandered off to ponder their memories, lock onto the one who stands out from the group.

“What’s your name?”

“Maxim,” Says the one who reminds them of Major. They miss him, the old idiot. He used to cause so much trouble.

“Maxim. Do you have something you’d like to say?”

Glancing at his classmates, the young man shrugs one shoulder. “Nah. Just keep talking, we’ll get something we can use.”

“I’d love to help you all with your assignment. Your teacher informed me that you’ll fail this class if you don’t hand in an acceptable essay, each of you.” The newspaper has one corner folded back neatly that they play with slowly as they watch the three kids before them. “But I know someone who hates magic when I see them. If you want me to help someone like that to pass an advanced class, you’ll all have to do better than this. I don’t want to teach you about the history I lived through. I want each of you to study it on your own, come present what you learned to me, and show me that you have the base understanding to even believe what I’ll tell you.”

Maxim turns to leave, uninterested, ready to pay someone to write his essay for him. Zach looks anxious, mouth opening to make excuses and beg for Quinn to just tell them what they need to know to get their project done.

Sheela watches Quinn. Just stands there and waits, judging whether they’re being honest. Quinn leans back in the lobby’s couch and beams.

“You. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. The others, they have to hear it from you. I want you to retell my stories before you write anything down on paper.”

“I’d type it on my phone, no one uses paper for notes anymore,” She argues mildly.

“Fine. You’ll relay it by word of mouth, then take the notes on your phone. Do we have a deal, Miss…”

“Sheela. Yeah, that’s - we can do that. Right?”

Maxim sighs and turns back around, glaring but grumbling his agreement. Zach nods to show he accepts the terms as well.

“Wonderful,” Says Quinn, standing with all the aches of a senior citizen, but the glowing energy of someone about to do their favorite thing. “Let’s go out for a walk. We’ll start with the war and go from there.”

[supercantaloupe]

@dimension20alphabet prompt #11: kitten

title: Un/Welcome - campaign: Fantasy High: Sophomore year - 1114 words - set post-canon

The girls discuss what to do about the newest member of Mordred Manor.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Sol’s son, are you always going to be this much of a hardass about everything?”

“Some things, yes.” Aelwyn folds her arms and looks stern.

“You’re really going to say no to this?” Kristen coos, holding up the kitten to be eye level. Aelwyn makes a face and leans back.

“Yes.” 

“Aw, come on,” Kristen whines, pouting. “Even you have to admit she’s cute. Right, Fig?”

“It’s pretty damn cute,” Fig shrugs and smiles. “What do you have against it?”

“You all know damn well what I have against it,” Aelwyn says acidly, first scowling at Fig and then back at Kristen and the little cat in her hands. “I don’t know why you don’t feel the same,” Aelwyn adds suspiciously. 

“I dunno,” Kristen shrugs and sets the kitten down on the table. She can just about cradle the little thing in one hand, it’s so small and delicate. “Not nearly as scary as the last one.”

“Ugh. This is--” Aelwyn shakes her head again and huffs. From the table, the kitten looks up at her with its big green eyes, at once curious and indifferent (yet distinctly absent of malice). Its fur was so dark as to transcend black into shades of purple and blue, like the sky over the Celestine Sea at midnight, and shimmers as though flecked with just as many stars. Aelwyn looks away, in time to catch sight of her sister passing in the hall. “Adaine, you must tell them how ridiculous this all is.”

“What are you arguing about now?” Adaine asks, entering the room and looking among her sisters both biological and honorary. 

“Kristen wants to keep the cat, Aelwyn doesn’t,” Fig explains, gesturing to the kitten on the table before them. “I’m team ‘keep it.’ I think it’s cool.”

“Where did you even get a cat?” Adaine asks, coming over to the table and kneeling down. She rests her elbows and chin on the table and extends a finger to wave at the kitten, who watches it intently and occasionally bats at it with a paw.

“Cassandra sent it to me,” Kristen says. “I think.” The others look at her, confused and curious. Kristen sits forward in her chair and begins to gesture with her hands as she explains. “I woke up this morning and there was just this fucking cat in the chapel, right? So I went to the altar and asked them like, ‘Yo, Cass, what’s up with the cat? This yours?’ And Cass was like, ‘yeah Kris, that’s your familiar.’ And I’m like, ‘I don’t have a familiar,’ and they’re all, ‘you do now.’”

“So you just...have a cat now,” Adaine repeats slowly, making sure she’s got the story down.

“Yup.”

“So we’re keeping it?” Fig asks.

Adaine glances back up at Aelwyn, who still looks displeased. “Um, there’s a lot of people in this house. I don’t think it should be only up to us?”

“Perhaps you should consult the werewolves first,” Aelwyn adds.

Kristen frowns. “Tracker’s still in Fallinel,” she says sadly. 

“And Ragh’s with her, so they don’t get a vote,” Fig chimes in.

“Okay. What about Jawbone?” Aelwyn prompts.

“And Sandra Lynn?” Adaine continues. “I mean, it is their house. I think it’s only polite to ask them first.”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?” Kristen shrugs.

“I don’t happen to agree,” Aelwyn responds flatly. Fig laughs. 

“Okay, well…” Kristen says, reaching over and grabbing the kitten off the table. She cradles it in her hands on her lap. “If we really don’t want to keep her, we don’t have to.”

“Can’t you just tell Cassandra to…” Aelwyn waves a hand. She sounds a little bit softer. “Take it back?”

Kristen purses her lips and mulls it over, looking at the cat on her lap. “I dunno. I guess I could try...Cass made it seem like it was gonna be here whether I wanted it or not, though.” She scoops the kitten up in her hand again and holds it up to eye level again, looking at its bright, inquisitive face. “I could probably drop her off at the church and it could stay there. Like a temple guardian.”

“Keep the rats out,” Fig offers. She looks back at Aelwyn. “You sure you’re not cool with keeping it? It’s no big deal either way.”

Aelwyn frowns and looks pensive. After a beat, Kristen leans forward and holds the kitten out. “Would you like to…?” she offers gently.

Aelwyn stares at the cat, then darts her eyes up to study Kristen’s face. There’s a flash of something in her eyes, maybe fear or nerves, but also something else. After another beat, she takes and lets out a breath and hesitantly reaches forward. Kristen gently places the kitten into her hands and leans back, smiling.

“There you go. What’d’ya think?”

Aelwyn bites her lip and cradles the cat like it’s the most dangerous item in the world, and the most precious. She rubs her thumb along its dark, shimmery fur. “It’s quite soft,” she says. Kristen smiles.

“You like her?”

Aelwyn takes another breath and lets it out. She shrugs a little. It’s about as close to a ‘yes’ as any of them will get from her, and they’ll take it. 

“Hells yeah!” Fig says as Aelwyn leans forward to give the kitten back to Kristen. “Now she needs a name.”

“I was thinking ‘Cooler Kalina,’” Kristen says. Aelwyn makes a face and recoils sharply, prompting Kristen to laugh. 

“Absolutely not,” Aelwyn insists firmly. “If you name it that, I’m banishing it to whatever plane it belongs on.”

“Calm down, it was just a joke,” Kristen giggles. She holds the cat up again and regards it thoughtfully. “Hm. Little Tracker?”

“No.”

“Midnight.”

“That’s so boring,” Fig comments. 

“Metallico?”

Adainen squints. “That’s kind of a strange name, don’t you think?”

Kristen hums in thought. “Anilak?” she finally suggests.

The cat lets out a little mew. Fig and Adaine coo and aw in response. 

“‘Anilak,’ that’s cool. I like that,” Fig says, nodding her approval. Adaine nods in agreement. 

“I think she likes it too. Don’t you, Anilak?” Kristen says. The kitten mews again, and the girls giggle again. “Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me. Welcome to Mordred Manor, Anliak!”

Adaine pulls a pink collar out of her jacket and clips it onto Anilak’s neck, complete with nametag and tiny bell. Kristen bends down and sets her on the floor, letting her scamper off into the next room. Sitting up, she sighs happily and glances back to Aelwyn.

“What’s that look for?” she asks to Aelwyn’s grumpy face.

“‘Anilak?’ Really?” Aelwyn says. 

Kristen giggles. “Hey, no changing it now.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection. 

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging. 

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest. 

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors. 

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek. 

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance. 

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00. 

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.” 

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.” 

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso. 

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis. 

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.” 

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.” 

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house. 

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him. 

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie. 

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed. 

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.” 

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next. 

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.” 

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked. 

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?” 

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.” 

“Messy how?” Pierre asked. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend  — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly. 

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.” 

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked. 

“About what?” Pierre responded. 

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.” 

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.” 

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked. 

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.” 

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her. 

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.” 

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer. 

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.” 

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.” 

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion”  — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special. 

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag. 

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”  

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent. 

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

 November 28 (sun)

 Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews. 

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said. 

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling. 

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?” 

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished. 

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep. 

 December 18 (sat)

 Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table. 

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home. 

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard. 

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch. 

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done. 

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth. 

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

 January 26 (wed)

 Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted. 

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin. 

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet. 

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.” 

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor. 

“Coming.” 

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport. 

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked. 

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?” 

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough. 

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge. 

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching. 

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence. 

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex. 

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.” 

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice. 

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone. 

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured. 

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

 February 20 (mon)

 Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day  — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen. 

Are you free right now? I need to call you. 

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered.  I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text. 

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head. 

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?” 

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?” 

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense. 

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered. 

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise. 

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully. 

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it. 

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said. 

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

[thatonewrites]

Riddler × Gender Neutral Reader - 2

First I want to thank everyone who actually read the first part because I never thought someone would. I just did it for fun (I haven't even thought about a title! Ha) and I guess I will keep doing it as long as I am liking it. Again, sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language.

Here is a part 2. A little bit more intense...

Warnings: choking, a little angst, sexual language, mention to murder, violence.

02/?

But Edward never showed up for work. You started worrying, tried to find his address, to get any info about what would he be doing. You got nothing. After almost a month working alone in the lab, where you found silence wasn't the same without him, Harvey came in. He closed the door behind him and took his hat off. 

"Y/N... I need to tell you something"

He was serious, way more serious than he used to be. 

"That boy, Nygma, we... we have reason to think he killed Kristen Kringle. Jim doesn't want you to take part in the case. May be too hard, since you guys shared the lab for a long time."

You couldn't hear anything else. 

You fell in love with a murderer. It could have been you. That was the reason he was so weird in that day - Kristen must already have been killed. You started to notice your vision blurring so much you had to sit down for a while. Apparently they hired someone else to take care of the case and gave you a medical licence for the trauma. 

You spend the next weeks wondering. Where he would be. Why did he killed her. Why he not only didn't kill you, but showed you vulnerability. You couldn't do anything but wonder. After two weeks, you came back to the office. Lucius was really nice and gave you small amounts of work so you could get used to it again. You found out it was good to share the lab again, even though it was not the same. Of course he was extremely charming, but you couldn't even think about romance after everything.

Months have passed and you managed to suppress all the memories. Of course, Nygma's sweet smile still crossed your mind a few times a week, but you were even starting to pass a day or two without thinking about it. 

Then you heard about him. The Riddler. 

It was pretty obvious it was his new persona. You tried to avoid hearing about it but sometimes you could even feel a little curious. 

After a long day, you came home specially tired. All you wanted was kick your shoes off and get ready to sleep. Maybe asking for chinese food before bed.

But when you turned the lights on, there he was. Sitting in your couch, playing with his hat. He was even more beautiful than you remembered, tougher, more mature, more deadly.

"Still think I look great on green?"

You tried to swear. You had a murderer in your flat. The thought he could kill you anytime without breaking a sweat and would probably do it froze your hands. He looked different, with a self-confidence you never saw on him. And yes, the green suit made him a stunning vision. The Riddler probably knew it already.

"What are you doing here?"

"Explaining myself" he started to walk in your direction. You could smell him as he got closer and closer, a ocean-like scent. You were completely paralysed in fear. "I killed Kristen. And some other random guy. And her boyfriend and... Look, they had it coming, never treating us well. But you..."

You felt his hand in your chin, so dominating, making you stare him in the eyes. He said those words like they meant nothing, but you could feel his hands loosing strength. Edward looked nothing like the guy you met in the lab: there was a lost shine in his eyes. But then you could feel his touch getting more and more delicate as he started to look like himself again.

"You were always too good. A love I couldn't accept unless I destroyed it completely."

You wanted to react. To beat him up and run away but you couldn't do anything. It was still Ed, right? It looked like him. But the sensation only last for a few seconds. 

He stopped touching you, walking back to the couch and crossing his legs.  

"Ed tried to fight. He didn't want me to take over, you know? Such a coward."

As he started to talk again, you discretely grab a horse sculpture in your table and aimed to his head. It was a shot in the dark, but probably your only chance to run away. 

But you missed, maybe on purpose. Maybe you were afraid of actually hurting him. The horse sculpture fell behind Ed, breaking on the wall. You saw a dangerous smile on his face as he came closer. 

"Oh, honey. You need to learn a few tricks. But I think I can use a sidekick."

You felt a rush of adrenaline running into your veins. How dare him? 

"Why would I be your sidekick? You are just a loser in a fantasy, running around Gotham with your stupid riddles."

You thought those words would hurt him. He would be shocked and somehow let you go. But his only reaction was an even bigger smile.

"Oh, you wanna play dangerous? Let's do it. There is no Eddie to save you now." 

He choked you until you felt like your head was light as a balloon. You couldn't help noticing how sexy he looked, though. How the confidence suited him well. You wished The Riddler didn't noticed how you were looking at him. You mouth opened just a bit, trying to catch some air before you faint. And then he stopped holding so hard. You manage to breathe a little before he whispered:

"Can you not make this face? I can't kill you if I want to fuck you"

You wanted to laugh. But there wasnt enough air in your lungs to do so. You just looked at him, silent, feeling the volume on his pants. 

"Eddie would be scandalized. He has a crush on you, but refused to think about you in this way, even when we were alone. Unprofessional, he said."

You couldn't help yourself moaning really low but he heard you. You felt his lips touching yours, completely different from the kiss in front of the GCPD. The gentle and comfy heat wasn't there, only a fire that could burn the whole world. You knew you were not kissing Edward, but the Riddler. Not your cute co-worker but a cold-blooded psycho that would probably kill you after he was done. And you didn't knew how you felt about it. 

He stopped choking you and start to touch every part of your body. You were hypnotized, wanting that sensation forever. Then you remembered. This wasn't a sexy fantasy with a bad guy. It was the real deal. He wasn't Ed, the man you silently loved. He had murdered a girl a few months before. You grabbed the first thing you could reach - a small but heavy lamp you had near the door - and beat him on the head until he fell.