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mrsjellymunson · 1 year ago

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The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills

Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

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kinzis-writing · 1 year ago

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Better than Revenge | M.R [5]

With the upcoming holidays, Y/N feels the pressure as she constantly gets letters from her parents and finds it hard to escape the burden of the job the death eaters have given her. It's safe to say, hiding may be her best bet, unless she can distract herself.. just for the holidays though, right?

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby

Warning(s):

v. "i, i loved you in secret."

Chapter Five

I apologize because this chapter is sucky, I had it ready to publish days ago and when I came back to tag everyone half of it was gone so i had to rewrite it and I had no clue where it left off so I just re-wrote it and I honestly hate it, but...

Note: While I will be referencing the movies, it is not going to exactly the same. There is going to be very mild similarities between the them. Umbridge probably won't happen in my little mini series, I probably will not go into detail about the wizard war, and a lot of stuff that probably would not happen will happen.

Word Count: 2.28k

*Not proofread or edited*

*Gif not mine*

“Are you positive you don’t want to come to the burrow with us?” Hermione asked as she packed her last item in the duffle bag. Hogwarts was officially on Winter break and most everyone would be heading home to spend the holidays with their family. Hermione and Harry were going to be spending the holidays with the Weasley’s and even though Y/N had been invited she had been trying to distance herself from her friends.

Y/N shook her head, “Pansy and I planned to stay here.” She lied. She hadn’t talked to Harry or the Weasley’s much since the death eaters meeting. This led Harry to know that something had happened that she did not want to talk about it, so none of them pushed her, knowing she’ll talk when she gets ready.

The Granger girl gave her friend a sad smile, “Mrs. Weasley has a place for you if you change your mind.” She assured, earning a nod from the Nettleby girl. “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened. But, if you need anyone to talk too, We’re here for you.” She added picking up her bag and leaving with her last comment.

After she was sure that the carriages had left Hogwarts, Y/N gathered her things and set off to find Dumbledore. She knew that he would more than likely be in his office, waiting for someone to come and bother him. Maybe even taking care of the whole situation that her family had going on. That still did not stop her from being nervous when she knocked on the door and walked into his office.

“Miss Nettleby, I didn’t expect you to be stopping by.” Albus spoke in his calm and content voice as the girl stepped further into his office with the door closing behind her.

“I have a couple requests, but they may seem odd.” Y/n spoke honestly as she slipped her bag off her shoulder and held it in her grip.

Albus shook his head, the look in his eyes never leaving. “When you get to be my age nothing is odd.”

Y/N carefully laid her bag on the ground before pulling out three stacks of letters, ones that were meant for her eyes only. “I have heard about there being an extra dorm, one that no one wants to use… and I was thinking maybe I can move into it?” Dumbledore gave the girl a slightly surprised look before grabbing the letters that she was handing him. “It’s my understanding that not many people know about it because it’s charmed, and I feel as though it may be a way for me to hide.” She concluded.

Dumbledore moved his gaze down to the letters stacked in front of him, and carefully started opening each one. He had read every letter that had been sent to the girl since returning to Hogwarts after that dreaded weekend. “I see.” He spoke as he noticed the girl taking the letters back and placing them in her bag. If her parents ever found out that she confided in Dumbledore, then it would be over for you. “May I ask why they expect this out of you, but your brother has yet to have an assignment.”

“Well, you see professor, they consider me a disappointment because I was sorted into Gryffindor, and they overheard Sean and I talking about not wanting to become a follower of you know who.” Y/N explained. “I think they have had this planned since they found out about my house and that Harry was here.”

Albus nodded, understanding the girl’s predicament. “I will allow you to use the charmed dormitory, remember that Tom Riddle did not know about the existence of this when he was here. Be sure that those you let in are the ones that you can trust.” He reminded. Knowing that Snape had reported many things to him, including what the girl had wanted to talk about and how a certain Riddle boy had been trying to figure out the plans to help her as well.

“Of course.” Y/N nodded before thanking him and leaving his office to head back towards her now-former dorm.

Y/N sat on the bed in the boy’s dormitory in the Slytherin house. Sean had decided to go to his girlfriend’s family for Christmas, Draco was going home for the holidays because his family always threw a Christmas Party, Enzo had gone home, and Theo was either at home or with his girlfriend.

“What makes you stay at Hogwarts anyway?” Y/N asked as she swung her legs up on the bed and scooted back against the headboard of the Riddle boy’s bed. “You don’t want the inside scoop about what they’re planning.”

Mattheo shook his head, finishing up what he was doing. “I try to stay away as long as I can, but I know the life that I am destined to live.” He shrugged acting as if he didn’t care, but Y/n knew that he cared more than anything.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teo.” Y/N promised softly. “We were friends for two years before the whole thing went down.” She added and watched him carefully as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

The boy thought for a moment, how did they end up in this situation? It was easy, he thought she deserved better, and she ended up with Theo before he talked himself into telling her how he felt. “I don’t want to be like my father” He finally spoke up. It was the only way that he could express his worry without physically admitting that he was scared.

Y/N sat up further and scooted herself closer to him, “Why would you be your father? You’re far from it.” she asked, her hand resting on his back as she scooted herself up to be more even with him.

Mattheo shrugged, “My father expects me to be, and my mother will carry out anything that my father says.” He muttered knowing exactly how his family works, within the next year he would be walking around with the dark mark and there was nothing he could do about it.

Y/N thought for a moment. Everyone knew that his father was the way he was because of love potions. Anyone conceived during a love potion was unable to love, one of the bad side-effects of using a love potion on anyone. “You are far from your father.” Y/N started hoping to get his spirits up. “Your father is unable to love and care about people, and I know deep down, whether you show it or not, that you care about people.”

“I care about you.” He muttered as he carefully met Y/N’s gaze.

‘Well,” Y/n started completely startled by his open statement. “I am a person, and I care about you too, Teo.”

Mattheo’s lips quirked upward for a split second before leaning forward a bit. “Why did you go out with Theo?” he asked quietly, not breaking the tension between them.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion about why it mattered. “I don’t see why that matters.” She replied not sure what Mattheo was wanting to hear from her. She had originally dated Theo to forget about Mattheo and to get her parents off her back. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he cheated on her, because at the time she would have told you that she loved him, now she realizes that it wasn’t love. It was far from love.

“Why do you have to make this harder than it has to be.” Mattheo mumbled before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Their bodies turned to face each other as he deepened the kiss and Y/N’s hand moved to the back of his neck, her hand in his hair. They kissed until they had to break apart for air. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you walked into the great hall with him.” He whispered carefully, bringing his hand up to her face so she wouldn’t pull away.

Instead of replying, Y/N just molded their lips back together, because if the truth was known, she had been craving Mattheo’s affection for two years.

Waking up on Christmas morning was different than any other holiday morning. Mainly because the snow would line the ground and the pretty decorations would be hung up. This year was different, because Y/N had woken up in Mattheo’s bed. Nothing sexual had happened between them recently, but it was safe to say that the “fake dating” was becoming more real with each day.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Mattheo’s raspy morning voice spoke as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck to get her to wake up.

Y/N woke up with a bright smile, the warmth of the boy next to her surrounding her. “Merry Christmas.” She replied, turning over to face Mattheo. Both of their hair was messed up, due to sleep and they had probably slept through breakfast since they had both felt well rested, but neither of them cared.

“You want breakfast?” he asked softly as he pushed some of her hair out of her face. He was shocked at how easy it was to be himself around her. It was something that he had never expected or experienced. True, they were close previously, but he never let himself show much emotion. “I may be able to get a snack until lunch.”

Y/N shrugged, “s’up to you.” She mumbled, closing her eyes again for a split second. Mattheo took that as his chance to casual steal a kiss. It was short and sweet and nothing drastic. Y/N peeled her eyes back open a smile on her face, “You’re getting comfortable kissing me, teo.” She teased, placing her hand on his cheek.

A cheeky grin graced Mattheos, usually emotionless, face. “You’re finally letting me.”

She shook her head at his statement, “I told you when we started this that you could do anything you wanted.” She recalled noticing his eyes narrow at the mention of the plan that started this.

“I wanted it to be real, I’ve always wanted it to be real.” He quietly admitted, feeling shy for even telling the truth about it. It showed how he was scared to tell you how he felt, especially with you having dated his best friend.

“You,” Y/N started as she leaned up a bit to meet his gaze face-to-face. “Are turning into a sap.” She teased and let out a laugh when she noticed Mattheo’s cheeks turn dark pink. “Lucky for you, I love those types.” She finished crashing her lips to his and feeling the similar rush that she had two years ago.

The make-out session had gone on for a bit, until they were interrupted by Mattheo’s stomach. With that the two officially parted and agreed to meet back in Y/N’s new dorm after they had gotten ready, and he had gone to get food since they had missed the first meal of the day. Lunch would be rolling around soon, so their hunger was not a huge issue now. Mattheo had returned to Y/n’s new dorm with her favorite snack and the two had just spent Christmas in the presence of each other.

The winter break had flown by for the duo and soon it was New year’s, and the train and carriages would be returning to Hogwarts the next day. Somewhere between the jokes, conversations, and bookathons, Mattheo had asked Y/N to officially be his girlfriend and not just around his friends. Given, anyone who was left at Hogwarts could tell that something had shifted between them. What little group of students were left often had their eyes focused on the two worse than they usually did. Maybe it was because they were showing more pda, or maybe their relationship looked more real after they had a full two, almost three weeks to bond.

“Why did this break go so fast?” Y/N complained as her head rested on Mattheo’s lap. The couple sat in the Slytherin common room, on the couch that their friend group always occupied. The green hues showing as the flame moved was interesting to Y/N, especially because it was starting to become her favorite color. “I enjoyed the break from Veronica trying to ruin my life.” She muttered, her boyfriend playing with her hair making her more relaxed.

“She can’t ruin your life even if she tried.” Mattheo remarked back as he sat the book in his hands down. “You coming with me out to the lawn?”

Y/N shook her head, knowing that mattheo had hardly smoked since the break. Maybe it was a habit that affected him worse when he was worried or stressed or maybe it had been what she had said during their game of truth or dare. Whatever the reason, she had noticed how Mattheo relaxed more easily when it was just the two of them. It didn’t matter what they did because he was laid back and never seemed like he worried about anything. Sometimes, Y/N wondered if he could feel the dread or the bad vibes like she did. She knew she was feeling them due to what was about to happen, but she didn’t know if it was the letters from her parents or what was brewing and fixing to start. Either way she knew that it was going to be bad.

One thing she knew for sure was that she would protect her friends and everyone she loved at all costs. Regardless of what would happen to her and not caring about what her family will do.

again, I apologize because I hate how this chapter ended and how it went. I promise to try my hardest to make the last few chapters better. With that being said, i will now be saying my drafts on word, even after writing them here to prevent further deleting any part of the story!

Tag List: @yoichiislovie @hedwigprewett12 @justhavingsomefun1 @lafrone @julesandro @prongsprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @kiwi475 @frogtape @blueeweeb @wildlyobserving @harrysnovia @devotedlycrookeddonut @oi-itse @dear-fifi @grandtheoristpeach @dory-98 @jetblackpayne @b4b3tte @xmadigurlx @thecraziestcrayon @whoknowsbut @lovesanimals0000 @cmervns @urrsa @starkeylover @taylors--version @snow-onthebeach-13 @supernatural-lover @ivy-34 @jasmine2105 @yazzy1004 @itsamusical4lifee @rainy-darling @topguncultleader @primscat

I am sorry if it didn't tag you, I tagged the wrong person, or you no longer wish to be tagged. Just let me know and i will fix it!

#mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x gryffindor #mattheo riddle x oc #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagines #harry potter series #mattheo riddle better than revenge series #better than revenge series

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bloodycyrano · 1 year ago

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I want to lore dump about my BG3 storyline and OCs so bad, but at the same time I don't want to release any information before it would come out in the future chapters of my fanfic, so to stave off the dark urge, here's.... 🥁🥁🥁

Team Tadpole doing sweet things for each other part 2!

Sometimes, when Astarion has trouble resting at night, Gale will stay up with him and play chess- They started with card games, but Astarion cheats like a fox. He still cheats at chess, but not as often.

Karlach probably notices when her comrades are in pain after battle, and will hug a sack of rocks until they heat up to make a sort of makeshift heating pad for sore muscles.- Bonus points, She'll borrow some scented oils from Halsin to add an element of aromatherapy.

Gale has 100% done talis card readings for Team tadpole when they deal with heavy emotional stuff, if only to help them find their path forward. Maybe he isn't the best at verbal comfort, but magic is one thing he knows he can use for at least some benefit.

I feel like Gale also notices when people aren't dealing well with things, and will purposefully annoy Durge so they have someone to pick on and hopefully feel a little better afterwards. They're definitely the sort of friends that pretend to hate each other, but are there when you need them. Durge definitely brings out his petty side, but its all in good fun. Usually.

While maybe they have a bit of a rocky relationship, I also believe Durge would indulge Gales special interests and let him ramble about things, because they know what it's like to have to shut up to make other people happy. I also feel like Gale would return the favor and deliberately ask about weird, macabre things so that Durge actually has an excuse to bring up topics that interest them.

Wyll has a knitting hobby. You probably wouldn't expect it, but he definitely does. And he's really really good at it, too. He uses every holiday as an excuse to gift people things like socks, scarves, mittens, etc. And I mean EVERY holiday. Earth day, valentines day, national owlbear day (Which is totally not something he made up as an excuse to give people their presents early), etc. The thing is, he notices when people complain about their socks getting worn from traveling, and gets random ideas for gifts at 3 AM, and then spends the rest of the night knitting. He has also been known to make cute little knitted outfits for the group pets in the winter, because he thought Scratch was getting cold.

Adding onto this, Lae'zel is the only person Wyll is willing to go to for a blunt and honest opinion on the gifts he makes before he gives them. Lae'zel doesn't take this lightly, either. While maybe she doesn't show it, she takes this very seriously and is somewhat honored that Wyll came to her instead of anyone else.

Shadowheart tends to replenish Wylls yarn reserve without telling him as well. She asks Lae’zel what colours he's run out of, and then sneak some extra spools into his pack. Wyll still doesn't know who's been doing it, but he's thankful nonetheless. And it's one thing the cleric and the gith can actually be somewhat peaceful about.

Durge doesn't take all of their kills lightly. When it comes to someone they actually respected, there's a ritual they perform afterward that they read about in Withers old temple. They'll grind bone and ash into ink and take time to write out the names of those they respected, and bury it with the bodies. As well as little offerings as well. It isn't a short process either.. Durge will spend the entire night locked in their caravan burning incense, praying their name to Jergal in hopes that the spirit will find rest, and doing little things in honor of the dead.- It isn't hard for team tadpole to figure out when Durge has taken the life of someone they held a genuine respect for, and will be careful not to disturb them, or leave bones or herbs/flowers on the steps of their caravan. Karlach and Astarion will occasionally come to check on them. While maybe it doesn't happen often, it does happen. Withers was particularly surprise to begin receiving prayers after all this time, but it strengthened a sort of bond between the two.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge #gale dekarios #baldurs gate tav #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #karlach #scenarios #writing prompt #bg3 scenarios #bg3 withers #jergal

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not-a-space-alien · 1 year ago

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K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 7

Part seven of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings for this chapter: None

In this chapter:

***

Valen thinks about it over the next couple of days. He doesn't like making rush decisions.

He calls Jim every day, and every day he hears about how scared Jim gets at night. Jim tries to downplay it, and it still sounds horrible. He can hear the tiredness in both his and Liz's voices.

He barely knows Jim. He doesn't have to babysit Jim. He can't focus on the work that had seemed so important last week.

He starts getting mail from Priscus. A picture of a cat, saying it's his if he comes back to the estate. Sent directly to Valen's supposedly secret address. The wording in his communications is getting more insistent.

He calls Jim and says he'd like to move in with him and Liz, if such a thing is still agreeable to them.

Jim jumps on the offer ecstatically. "Of course it's still agreeable! We'd love to have you! Come on over!"

Valen regretfully tells his landlord he's breaking the lease. He's not attached to any of the furniture. He packs up his books, his lab equipment, his clothes, the blood he has on hand. His stash of valuables he'd taken from the Kithrara estate. Priscus will surely demand those back as soon as he's no longer in denial that Valen isn't coming back, and wasn't just "borrowing" them. Which will likely happen when he finds out Valen is now living in human territory, at which point he'll be out of reach even to the Kithrara family's manipulation tactics. He needs his ill-gotten goods to save himself from having to work a job. He’s capable of it, he simply doesn't want to and tells himself his research project is more important.

His things aren't too heavy to carry, but they are a little bulky. He buys a cheap car. It's even harder to drive. He's already shunted his previous car off onto Jim to be rid of it. There are no rentals that will allow him to return it in human territory. He may just abandon it on the side of the road when he's done with it. Having money has let him turn to being wasteful as a coping method for his anxiety.

He loads up all his things and stops at the store to get a generous supply of blood packs. He puts them in a cooler and drives straight to Liz and Jim's house.

Jim runs out to give him a tackle-hug as soon as Valen arrives. It's the first time he's been outside at night since Valen took him to the store. "I missed you."

Valen lets himself be pummeled by the hug. Why had he ever left this? What could be more important than this? "I missed you too."

Liz follows. "Welcome back, roomie. Lemme help you with your stuff."

When Liz starts to carry his things, he untangles himself from Jim. "Please, please allow me. It's much easier for me, don't trouble yourself. Where shall I put them?"

Liz waves him off. "I can carry shit no problem."

"We cleared out the extra room. We can still share a bed and stuff, but that way you've got your own space to put all your stuff," Jim says. "Hey, you wanna see something fucked up?"

"Stop showing it to everyone who comes over," Liz admonishes.

Valen's eyes widen. "Oh dear. What is it?"

Jim strips his shirt and turns around. His back is covered in bullseye rashes, like someone stained his skin with red watercolor. "I got Lyme disease."

Liz rolls her eyes. "Put your shirt back on."

"I feel like crap, but it looks kinda cool!" Jim insists. "'Fore you ask, already saw the doctor, already on meds for it."

"Oh dear!" Valen cries, "I hope it clears up quickly." Jim has been showing his bare back to "everyone who comes over"...? For some reason, the thought of more humans coming over to the house where he now lives hadn't really occurred to him. It's really scary, for some reason, to be surrounded by humans. "Who, um, who have you been showing this to?"

"Laken. Friends who I haven't seen since before. Plus a reporter. They wanna put me on TV," Jim brags.

Jim is going to be on TV. What is Valen going to do when more humans keep showing up here? He starts to second guess his decision. Can he really live here, in human territory? Everyone here except a small group of Jim's connections will see him as a dangerous and hateful animal, or a curiosity at best. "Ah," he says nervously. "Just, just give me ample warning before that happens so, so I don't also get on TV."

Jim puts his shirt back on. "Oh hey, yeah, of course. It'd be during the day, and not here. And you know, they were asking about the story of how I escaped, and that's all you. You're like a hero. But if you don't want me to go on, I won't. You feeling comfortable here's more important."

"Well, you can–I don't want to limit you. You deserve to tell everyone your story. I'm just nervous as to what it could bring if, if the spotlight comes on me at all." He rubs his arm. "Thank you for calling me a hero, but there are probably people out there who would think that doesn't matter."

"Well, I think it matters," Jim protests.

"I made sure all the hunters in this district know you're with us. You won't run into any trouble here," Liz assures him.

"I'll make sure to keep you out of the spotlight," Jim says.

Liz pats the trunk. "Hey, open it up so I can start helping."

They unload Valen's stuff, and he shyly asks if there's somewhere he can have space to set up his lab equipment so he can continue working on his project.

"Wherever there's room, go for it," Liz says, gesturing around the house. "Kitchen, living room, Mom and D–your room. Wherever you wanna set up.”

He catches the slip up in what Liz calls the room, and figures that given all the clues, Liz and Jim's parents must have passed away. "Was that your parent's bedroom?" Valen asks. "I'm sorry. Thank you for sharing it with me. Are you quite comfortable with me using it?" Part of him is afraid they're about to tell him their parents were killed by vampires.

"Yeah. Better that someone's using it." Jim says. "It's been... almost ten years, now. Time kinda gets away from you, huh."

"Mm-hm." Liz looks away. She doesn't like talking about it.

"My condolences. Well, I'm glad the two of you have each other now, at least."

"Yeah. And now we got you, too." Jim smiles at him.

Valen eventually decides to set up his lab in the living room, liking the idea of being out in the open where anyone can come ask about what he's doing, to give him an opportunity to gush. He does make note that he'll have to carefully label anything that comes in contact with the mushrooms, since they're dangerous to humans.

Things are alright for a while. Jim is a lot less paranoid than he was when Valen was hundreds of miles away, and the hunter that shot at Valen comes over briefly to apologize and thank him for bringing Liz's brother back.

Valen is touched that all the vampire hunters and miscellaneous humans around accept him so easily. Despite his good deed, he'd expected much more pushback and more suspicion. But everyone is just being nice to him. It's refreshing, and not at all what he expected.

Jim has trouble re-meshing with his old friend group: they've grown into different people in their time apart. But he has Liz and Valen, so he's okay. Laken takes a liking to Valen. Valen likes Laken a lot; they're bold and curious and don't take themselves too seriously.

Valen encourages Jim to get in touch with his old friends, but he himself has lost most of his old friends and he knows how difficult that can be when things have just changed. He encourages Jim not to let it get him down, and reminds him he'll have plenty of opportunities to make new friends down the road.

The hunters in the area know to leave Valen alone. Valen goes back to vampire territory every once in a while to get more blood, and occasionally other supplies he can't seem to get on this side of the border. He generally dislikes being in vampire territory, though, because of his own paranoia about being found. He avoids anyone who might have even tangential connections to his husband's family, not even telling his own family where he went. He misses them, a little, but he can't bring himself to be too sad about cutting them off. Talking to them usually only earned him misgendering and scolding.

Jim and Liz argue about her returning to work. Jim doesn't want her to, he's terrified for her safety, but Liz insists that this is her calling and she needs to protect people, and that Laken will get themself killed without her. Jim does end up conceding, begrudgingly, since he can't actually stop her.

Valen agrees with Jim that vampire hunting is dangerous, but he reminds Jim it's a noble profession that needs to be done to protect humans. He offers to start escorting Liz on hunts to help ensure her safety, but he sees the look on Jim's face at the thought of the consequences of that possibility: either he will be alone at night, or he'll have to come as well. Valen retracts the offer in front of Jim, but then later privately reoffers to Liz.

Liz declines Valen's offer for now, but thanks him and says maybe they can try that when Jim's more stable. Honestly, she's worried about Jim being alone at night, too. She already lost him once.

Jim sleeps in Valen's room. He's loathe to be apart from him for very long: not just because he likes being around Valen, but also because of a creeping feeling of danger he gets whenever they're apart. He's not coping as well as he'd like to think he is.

Valen gets more comfortable around Jim and the idea of another relationship, in whatever form that will be. They are both dealing with different kinds of trauma, and unfortunately they are creeping into territory where it's very easy to trigger Valen, sleeping next to each other and being affectionate. Jim has Valen to get him through his bad episodes, but for Valen, Jim is usually the cause of those episodes, which Valen tries to hide to spare his feelings. He knows logically that Jim can't overpower him, but the wounds of being overpowered are deep, and it's all he can do not to slide into learned helplessness rather than speak up about his feelings. He's less afraid of being physically dominated and more of the emotional side: Priscus had been kind early on in their marriage, and then had gradually lost patience and gotten more and more condescending and pushy. What if the same thing happened with Jim? Jim could start being less considerate, less respectful, and whatever positive emotions he'd been experiencing would be gone and their memories tainted. It felt fragile, just as safety did for Jim, the shared fear of being treated as an object manifesting in different ways for both of them.

He thinks that if Jim one day started telling him how to cut his hair or dictating what he could wear, he would never recover enough to trust anyone with his heart again.

Valen occasionally makes comments to Jim along the lines of "Thank you for allowing me to wear trousers," which probably strikes Jim just as weirdly as the occasional relapse Jim has where he begs and promises to be good strikes Valen and Liz.

It feels good. No one is too pushy. Everyone is just concerned about keeping each other happy and safe.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

#whump #K+J #angst #whumpblr #hurt/comfort

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fanficmom94 · 2 months ago

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One Night Chapter 13

Glen's POV

I walk through the store checking the grocery list I reach the meat aisle I grab the steaks, hot dogs, the burgers then I stop and think for a moment this was a big occasion so why not get more? I grab several racks of ribs, packs of chicken breasts, three briskets, then some shrimp to also do skewers on the grill. I glance down at the list before making my to the dough and grab the crescent rolls to wrap the pigs in a blanket in, the baby shower for Jake was one week away so there was still a lot to do Lesley had said to wait until the day before to get the fruit trays so the fruit would stay fresh so I hold off on that. Once I have everything on the list I make a detour the chip aisle and grab several bags and a variety of dips so there would be something for everyone I swipe my card as I pay not even glancing at the road this was for my first child for my son and it was worth every penny. I knew my mom would kill me for getting things not on the list

Beth's POV

I step outside to help Glen unload when he parks, he lowers the tail gate and I stop when I see how many extra bags there are had he invited the entire longhorn football team without me even knowing? I look over at him "Is this all for the baby shower?" I ask curiously He looks at me with a huge smile on his face and chuckles before rubbing his neck. "I might have got some more stuff and added a few extra things to the menu." I smile then laugh before kissing him slowly I rub his cheek then rest my head against his. "Thank you for the extra items I'm so glad that you and your family have been willing to do something this big for our baby and it really means a lot to me." Glen wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer he starts rubbing my back lightly and I close my eyes when he kisses my head softly. "You're having my son you're part of this family now this is the way the Powells do things." He says softly I hug him and realize how lucky I am that his family accepted me.

Cyndy's POV

The next day Lauren, Lesley and I go shopping for our baby shower gifts we were all excited to be shopping for a new baby especially since this was Glen's first child we reach the store and begin walking through the baby department. First the three of us grab two boxes of diapers each giving them six boxes to start off with surely other guests would get more for them but at least Jake would have something to start off with in case he did happen to come early then we begin picking out other items. Lauren picks out some blankets, burp cloths and a set out bibs, Lesley chooses a bath set, a little blue grooming kit, and a few packs of pacifiers, To go with my box of diapers I get onesies, bottles, and a blue blanket that had little airplanes on it. The three of us also pick out a baby sing that would be one big gift to Jake from his grandma and his aunts I couldn't wait for everyone to get together at the baby shower celebrating Beth and Glen.

Glen's POV

While my mom and sisters were out shopping Beth was upstairs taking a nap my dad and I were in the kitchen coming up with different sauces for the steaks, ribs and shrimp skewers for the baby shower. As I chop up some onion and fresh garlic before mixing them into a bowl my dad looks at me "You know I"m really proud of you for how you've handled everything for moving them here, keeping her privacy important, getting the best doctor getting the news out of nowhere about a baby would have made most people panic but you took it and made the best out of it." I was glad my mom and dad were proud of me. I wasn't expecting to be a dad this soon in my career but life had other plans plus with Beth and Jake I had my own family something I always wanted and I couldn't wait to take things further and go the next step with her. My dad tries some of the barbecue sauce "This is good son if acting doesn't work out you could sell sauces." I pause and begin to think maybe my dad was onto something about selling our own sauces.

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @echoingbirdsofprey @rootedinrevisions @crossskylinesandcontrails

#multi chapter #glen powell #real person fiction

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exdynamischaos · 3 months ago

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Announcing: the Dreamscape Dilemma (and our Patreon)

Today, I have an exciting new double announcement! Behind the scenes, I have been working with artist PhasmaGORE on a new story titled the Dreamscape Dilemma. Unlike our previous stories on the website, this will be a premium [paid] comic you will be able to purchase upon completion. It will be made available digital-first as a PDF here (through a direct purchase PayPal link) and several other places that conveniently sell digital comics, such as our GlobalComix profile. We will also do a print run for the first volume (about ten chapters) upon completion, but we will consider setting each chapter up for print-on-demand if there is enough of a demand for it.

This first chapter will be a thirty-page introduction and feature black and white interior art. The story is aimed at people aged ten and up (primarily due to the level of language complexity at times) and is for anyone who enjoys sincere adventure stories with strange settings. The tale follows several kids who fell into a deep slumber and are now wandering the land where dreams come from while they solve the mystery as to why they were pulled down there in the first place. We start things off with the perspective of Kenji Tanaka from Japan, who collapses one day during an after-school baseball game and comes to in his nightmare. Below will be the first five pages of the first chapter as a preview. But first, we have our second announcement.

I understand that it’s always been a little awkward to support Ex Dynamis Chaos financially, and we want to give you a way to not only help fund the book before it is finished, but also get to read the individual pages as they are completed. With that in mind, I finally caved in and set up a Patreon for Ex Dynamis Chaos. You will still be able to donate directly to the site, but this is an option that many people prefer and it allows for recurring perks for subscribers. And yes, all funds collected through Patreon will be added to the leaderboard like normal.

As of now, there are only three subscription tiers. The first tier is for EDK in general, meaning all the free stuff I put up on this website and mirror everywhere else. Because that one is centered around content that is otherwise free, I will be adding tons of random exclusive perks such as behind-the-scenes content and works-in-progress, as well as old art and content that existed before I made the website and is no longer canon or accurate. Also, if I personally release any premium comics or works (where I do every role by myself) during a month you are subscribed, you will receive a PDF of it.

The second tier is dedicated to funding the Dreamscape Dilemma, and as such, I will be splitting half of the funds from those subscriptions specifically with the PhasmaGORE. This tier will give you access to the pages as they are completed, behind-the-scenes content, any digital extras we create, and a PDF copy of the finished chapter (as long as you subscribed any month during the making of that specific chapter). The final tier is just a combo pack for both previous tiers in case you are that awesome individual who wants to support everything (PhasmaGORE will get the same amount from this tier as the Dreamscape Dilemma subscription). All of these tiers will also grant access to supporter-only zones across any of our spaces, such as here on the website or in our Discord server. If you are someone who doesn’t jive with Patreon, that is fine. Message me directly anywhere and I’ll set up a direct subscription through PayPal and get you the perks through an acceptable method (probably email).

Enjoy the preview!

BONUS BACK COVER

#EDK #ex dynamis chaos #dreamscape dilemma #Kenji Tanaka #Momotaro #yokai #Abby the Nightmare #old hag #dreams #nightmares #baseball #comic #sample #preview

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sleepless-in-southlands · 1 year ago

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written in my blood

Ao3

Summary: Turns out? Talking about Inscryption still isn't easy, not that Luke isn't trying. If Luke had known what trying would cost him, though, he probably wouldn't have even bothered. Content: Hurt/comfort (heavy on the hurt for this chap though...); talking about the past, trauma, disassociation, delusions, eye trauma, fear, promise it isn't As bad as it sounds but it isn't Great, inscryption exposition-ing Pairings: Lucky Jumbo (Luke Carder/Mumbo Jumbo), Luke Carder & Rendog & Docm77 Notes: Part eight of Lucky Jumbo. Chapter one of Love Letter to a Bullet

“Won’t you answer at least one question?”

“We’re talking about you right now.”

“And we will! But you can’t just drop that on me and move on without an explanation.”

“I think you’re trying to deflect.”

“I think if I had suddenly revealed the existence of my robot son to you, you’d want to change topics too.”

“We can talk about Grumbot later.” Mumbo lightly bumped his shoulder against Luke’s, as if trying to push him back on track. “You were saying Inscryption was a card game and a computer game?”

Luke sighed. Admittedly, there was a small part of him that was happy to find any excuse to abandon the current conversation (a conversation he had started, nonetheless), but his curiosity was genuine. He had been prepared to give Mumbo a very long, very in-depth explanation of what exactly a computer was, not for him to know exactly what one was due to having built one with Grian as a mayoral-election-helper slash accidental-son.

But the two dozen questions he had (such as, ‘where is Grumbot now?’ and ‘does this make me a stepfather?’) would have to wait, apparently. “Officially, it was only a card game. The computer version never got released to the public, but I- er- stumbled onto a copy of it.”

“How’d that happen?”

I followed the coordinates written in a dead woman’s card pack to a spot in the woods, dug it out of the ground, and immediately found a way to play it. Smart move, right? “I got it from someone who worked for the game company that developed both.”

“A friend?”

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, tight enough he could almost see the newspaper article against the back of his eyelids- tragically, young video game developer Kaycee Hobbs died from fire related complications. Fellow victims were a type of friend, probably. “Kinda. We had similar interests.”

Mumbo squeezed his hand lightly, and Luke reopened his eyes to find Mumbo looking at him with a small moustache frown. Considering Luke hadn’t said anything awful at that point, he wasn’t really sure what the frown was for.

“The sigils come from the game.” Luke said before Mumbo could do something sweet like remind him again that he didn’t have to talk about Inscryption if he didn’t want to, because Luke wasn’t strong enough to reject that offer another time within the same night. “They give the cards they’re on special effects in battles. But they’re not actually supposed to do anything.”

“What’s the point of sigils that don’t do anything?”

“I mean- in the game, sigils make your cards stronger or improve their attack or give you extra buffs. But the card itself is still a card. It doesn’t change because it has a sigil on it. The wing symbol doesn’t mean the card starts flying.”

Mumbo’s frown shifted into a different kind of concern. “You said sigils were similar to enchantments.”

Luke made an aimless gesture with his hands. “In the computer game Inscryption, you were sometimes able to put sigils on your cards yourself, and to do that you’d have to, you know, make sacrifices and stuff. And once you’ve added the sigils, the cards do gain the given effects, just not literally.”

“Sacrifices?!”

“Er, you guys use that blue stuff to make enchantments work, right? Same idea.”

“I don’t think you can… sacrifice lapis lazuli.” Mumbo said haltingly. “I know you said that you can’t get the activation materials here, but what did you have to use for the sigils? In the game?”

Well sometimes you buy them with virtual currency from a robot who doesn’t care about storytelling that much. Sometimes you find an old woman wandering around who'll give you a totem that will imbue certain cards with the power of certain sigils for free. Sometimes you stumble upon a bloodied altar in the heart of the darkened words where a voice echoes through the trees and tells you that to make one stronger, one must be offered as-

“It depends on the type of card.” Luke said, a bit hastily, as if he might be able to discombobulate Mumbo- and his own thoughts- if he spoke fast enough. “And most of the time, the sigils come already on them. You don’t add that many yourself.”

He didn’t fully achieve the intended outcome, but he did manage to briefly divert Mumbo’s attention. “There are different types of cards?”

“More like different battle styles, but yeah. Inscryption has four of them.” Luke raised his free hand, putting out a finger for each group as he went through. “There are Magick cards, which are played in tandem with Mox gem cards that allow them to exist. And then there are Technology cards, which cost a kind of battery energy that charges up between turns.”

Luke hesitated. Magick and Technology cards had complicated game mechanics, but the concepts behind them were simple and (in a literal sense) painless. But the Beast cards, which required blood sacrifices, and Undead cards, which were paid for in bones?

Hermits didn’t bleed, but it was a common enough ‘mod’ that Luke knew Mumbo knew what blood was, as evidenced by the time he had panicked over not having any and Mumbo had understood the issue with minimal explanation. And he definitely knew what bones were. Luke couldn’t just casually use the words and hope Mumbo wouldn’t ask any further questions.

“And the other two?” Mumbo prompted gently, and Luke forced himself to take a breath. He was overthinking card game rules. The computer game had been cursed, yes, but sacrifice had always been part of Inscryption. Surely killing fake animals was nothing compared to hermits (playfully) killing each other over the most trivial pursuits.

“Undead cards, which cost bones to play. You get bones whenever your cards die, either because an enemy card killed them, or because you- you sacrificed them.” Luke's hand, still outstretched with three fingers up, twitched for a moment, involuntarily curling around an unseen handle. That word was coming up a bit too much for his liking. “That’s how you play the fourth set. Beast cards require blood to be played, taken from your own cards as sacrifice.”

“That seems… harsh.”

“It’s just how the game is played.” Luke dropped his hand back into his lap, no longer necessary as a visual counter. He could expand the point, explain how other strategy card games had similar mechanics with different names, or how ‘sacrificed’ cards were only temporarily out of play, not gone forever (Luke thought of the Bone Lord, of crimson eyes peering out of a skull with twisted horns, of trading boons for blood that remained spilt even as he moved to the next event, and corrected to most weren’t gone forever), but he had a feeling that would confuse Mumbo more than it would help anything. “Which brings us to the point I was trying to make- the sigils are part of Inscryption, they’re not something that exist or happen outside of the game. Is that… normal? For carry-overs?”

Mumbo looked as though he wasn’t quite ready to switch topics, hesitating before he did so. “It can depend. Was Inscryption a big part of your old server, or crucial to life in some way?”

“Not… really. The game wasn’t that big, and I certainly wouldn’t call it crucial to life.” Luke said, not technically lying in any regard. Inscryption had never been a smash hit of a card game, important to interested collectors and not many else, and his final experiences with it had left an impression more akin to a poison than someone’s lifeblood. It wouldn’t be right, however, to give Mumbo the idea that the game was entirely impactless to Luke, so he tacked on, “Near the end of my li- my time in my old world, though, I was doing a lot with it.”

“Doing what with it?”

Being driven mad, mostly. “It’s a game, Mumbo, I was playing it.”

Mumbo chuckled, although the sound was a bit strained. “It’s just- no, I don’t think carry-overs from games are normal. But neither are potion carry-overs written in unreadable code.”

Luke wanted to argue false equivalence, but he caught himself before he did. Mumbo didn’t know that there was more to Inscryption, that Luke having carry-overs from it might not be limited to sigils. Luke had brought up Inscryption to Mumbo for a reason, and he had never planned to keep the entire game a secret from him forever, but there were some things he had no intention of mentioning, and for good reason. Most were simply insignificant, not worth bothering Mumbo with, but there were a few things Luke knew better than to mess with, even if the lesson had taken some teaching to stick.

There isn't much left. Inscryption is mostly gone. All that remains is the [NONONONO]. It is recommended that you do not access it. You will not heed the advice.

Luke ignored the slight headache that kept popping up whenever he thought about the Woodcarver. He hadn't listened to her warning, and what had that gotten him? Personally acquainted with something so vile he didn't dare think its name, that’s what. He wasn't going to make the mistake of trying to describe it, or any of its consequential ilk, to Mumbo.

“Yeah, I guess- I guess the unusual is kinda usual for me, huh?” Luke said after what was probably a little too lengthy a stretch for a reasonable pause. “With my code, at least.”

“A bit,” Mumbo repeated in agreement, tilting his head to catch Luke's gaze from where it had gotten stuck staring somewhat aimlessly at the floor, “but that’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not a good thing either.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s ok if your code’s doing some unusual things. The Hermitcraft server has seen a lot, weird code included.” Mumbo pressed closer to Luke’s side, and Luke resisted the urge to lean into him and do something foolish like spill everything he had thus far been keeping successfully bottled up. “Nothing terrible is going to happen to Hermitcraft because of you, Luke.”

In his lap, Luke curled his free hand into a fist. “I… I know.”

“Do you?” Mumbo asked, words too soft to mistake the question for cruelty. “I know fear when I see it, and when you realized why the sigils were working… you’re afraid of Inscryption, and I don’t know why.”

Mumbo paused, short enough Luke didn’t have to say anything but long enough he could if he wanted to. The only thing Luke wanted to do was remove his mouth and pretend he didn’t know what Inscryption was.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Mumbo’s voice, somehow, got even softer. “But I want you to know you can tell me. And that, no matter what it is, no matter what other carry-overs or code oddities you have, we’ll figure it out, and it’ll be ok. You don’t have to be afraid of tearing the server apart just by being here.”

Luke let out a shaky breath. Squeezed Mumbo’s hand. Continued, with herculean levels of strength, to restrain himself from slumping against Mumbo’s side and uncontrollably mumble things like I love you and I’m sorry and I’m afraid that evil has followed me here and there is nothing I can do to escape it.

“...Thank you.” Luke said lamely instead, trying to convince himself he truly believed that Hermitcraft was safe from the infection that had taken over Inscryption. It was dark, and powerful, but Luke had- quite literally- left it worlds behind him. While he was certain it could have followed him, that didn't mean it had. “I think- I think I'm ready for bed now.”

“Alright.” Mumbo said easily, making no attempt to push him into saying more, which only made Luke feel worse about swerving the relatively short and uninformative conversation into a dead stop. The less Mumbo knew about Inscryption and Luke’s final days before arriving in Hermitcraft, the better, but it felt wrong for Luke to be keeping so much from him. “I’ll get the lights.”

Mumbo kissed Luke’s cheek and squeezed his hand again, reassuringly, before he got up to turn off the lights. Luke flopped down on the bed while he did so, using the growing darkness to shove the heels of his hands against his eyes. Truthfully, he wasn’t that tired, especially not after dredging up so many Inscryption memories, but it had already been too long of a day. He wanted to sleep for the sake of then waking up to a new day, one that had nothing to do with Inscryption.

Luke managed to go from lying lifelessly on top of the covers to lying underneath them by the time Mumbo returned to the bed, levers presumably flipped on all the redstone lamps in the bedroom. Mumbo slipped beneath the blankets with him, wrapping his arms around Luke and tucking him close to his chest.

Guilt wriggled in the back of Luke’s mind for accepting the comfort of having Mumbo close, aware that he didn’t fully deserve it with how he was keeping Mumbo at a distance from the truth about Inscryption. The thought of trying to push Mumbo off was more unbearable than not, however, so Luke did his best to ignore the feeling.

“Goodnight.” Mumbo murmured, kissing Luke’s head. Luke returned the gesture by craning his head backwards, pressing a somewhat lopsided kiss to Mumbo’s chin. Somehow, doing so both soothed and increased his sliver of guilt.

“Goodnight.” Luke echoed back, settling in for what he already knew would be a restless night. As much as he wasn’t looking forward to the sleeping part, Luke was more than willing to deal with it in exchange for a fresh start in the morning.

Luke closed his eyes, blocking out what little light the stars had been contributing to the room, and resolutely dreamed only of things with no connection to Inscryption.

As predicted, Luke slept poorly, waking up early after he managed to toss and turn himself out of bed. His shoulder smarted from the fall, and it took him a few minutes to get himself free of the sheets tangled around his legs. How Mumbo was still asleep was beyond him, but Luke took the opportunity to begin the day with some time to himself, to collect his thoughts and decide what he wanted to do after Mumbo got up.

Luke slipped out of the bedroom as quietly as he could, enough light from the partially-risen sun coming in through the windows for him to successfully avoid running into any walls as he went. He headed towards the kitchen out of habit- it was too early for breakfast, but having some water sounded appealing.

And that’s when Luke got stabbed in the eye.

Luke stumbled at the sudden burst of pain, hitting the ground hard. He tried to focus, determine who- or what- was attacking him, only to have his eye stabbed again, and again, and again. No one was around him, he was completely alone, what was happening?!

A squelching sound interrupted what few thoughts Luke had managed to cobble together, and one of Luke’s hands flew to cover the right side of his face a moment too late. There was no blood on his face, but the pain had tripled, and there was an oddly familiar hollowness that told him exactly what had happened.

The realization that the phantom attacker had taken out his eyeball came mere seconds before Luke heard a distinctive metallic clanking, one he could have identified missing both eyes and trapped in a windstorm. In an instant, everything slotted into place.

It was the special dagger, obviously. He didn’t know why he had used it as his opening move, usually it was a last resort item- had Leshy brought out the bears? But, no, Luke couldn’t see any cards out of his good eye, he must have used the dagger to end the round. But that didn’t make sense either; if the round was over, where was the box of eyes? Leshy wouldn’t make him keep playing half-blind.

Luke forced himself to move his gaze off the ground, trying to find the game table, the box, Leshy, anything to recenter himself with. But there was too much light in Leshy’s cabin, meant for the darkness, and everything was a blur around him. The one thing Luke could focus on was the person right in front of him, confusion growing when he saw it wasn’t Leshy.

It was Mumbo.

His moustache was moving, presumably saying something, but Luke couldn’t hear any of it over the rush of panic at seeing him. What was Mumbo doing in Inscryption? He shouldn’t be there, couldn’t be there- had Luke said something? Had he left the game out, unhidden and unmarked, and Mumbo made the mistake of booting it up?

It didn’t matter. How Mumbo had ended up there wasn’t important, getting him out was. Luke couldn’t leave, not until the game was up, but Mumbo-

Five minutes too late (in his defense, he was a bit preoccupied), Luke remembered that- regardless of how many of the in-game characters were alive and sentient- Inscryption was a one-player horror. Mumbo couldn’t be in the game if Luke already was. Which, in theory, meant neither of them were; a theory that held up nicely so long as one looked past the fact Luke was missing an eye.

“-ke? Luke, can you hear me?” Mumbo sounded like he was talking a mile away through a staticky radio, but at least Luke could hear him again. His attempt to tune back into his surroundings failed, the world around still too bright, burning his eye, and Luke opted to focus on the grounding weight of Mumbo’s hands on his shoulders instead.

“Where- where are we?”

The worry already present in Mumbo’s expression deepened. “This is Hermitcraft, we’re inside your house.”

Luke blinked a few times as he tried to parse the given information. Hermitcraft… right, he had been heading to the kitchen, hadn’t he? But the special dagger got played- Luke couldn’t use items outside of battles, Leshy didn’t let him, so somewhere in between the two events Luke must have started a round. Not that he remembered doing so. Not that it should even be possible, not in Hermitcraft, not after everything Luke had done to keep the two worlds separate.

“Luke, what happened?” Luke’s contemplative silence had, apparently, dragged on too long. “I woke up to you screaming, and you were completely unresponsive for- for a long time. I thought I was going to have to call someone.”

More details to mull over- screaming? unresponsive?- that Luke chose to mentally tuck away for later, when Mumbo didn’t look like he wanted to build Hermitcraft a hospital solely for Luke. “It’s- it’s nothing, just my eye.”

“You hurt your eye?”

“It… sorta… fell out?” Oh, that was- that was a lot of panic in Mumbo’s expression all of a sudden; Luke was running damage control not five seconds after the words had left his mouth. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, I can… do you have a spider eye on you? I can fix it.”

“A spid- ah, ok. I- ok.” Mumbo’s grip briefly tightened on Luke’s shoulders, and Luke briefly compiled a mental list of which hermits would be best to call if both he and Mumbo needed help. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

“It should be on the scales, but-” Luke cut himself off, shaking his head. The round was over, Leshy would have cleared the scales. “No, I think- I think it's gone.”

“...Can I look at the injured side of your face, then?”

Unconsciously, Luke dug the tips of his fingers into the side of his head, applying more pressure to a wound that technically didn’t need any. “It might not- uh- won’t it be hard? To look at?”

“I need to see exactly what we’re dealing with.” When Luke didn’t say anything, Mumbo added on, gentler, “Just a quick peek, okay?”

Another long moment passed before Luke eventually nodded, his extremely rational desire to say yes to Mumbo winning out against the arguably illogical one of leaving his hand glued to his face until his eye grew back on its own. It took even longer for him to actually move said hand, as though he was pulling a tooth out instead (pulling a tooth out was easier), but Mumbo waited patiently until Luke managed it.

Luke dropped his hand onto his lap, ignoring how cold his eye socket felt uncovered. A small part of him had expected his sight to clear up without the blockage, but it didn’t, the right edge of his vision remaining dark and blurred.

Mumbo cupped Luke’s cheek, an action he more felt than saw, slightly tilting Luke’s head as he examined the injury. Whatever was there didn’t seem to startle or disgust him, which Luke belatedly realized made sense. There wouldn’t be any blood or gore, after all, and skeletons walked around missing both eyes all the time. His old life’s severe medical emergency was Hermitcraft’s- and, really, Inscryption’s- mild annoyance.

“Luke?” Mumbo focused back on Luke’s good (only) eye, voice still soft. “When you said you hurt your eye, what happened? Did you trip and hit your face, or…?”

“I won.” Luke said without thinking, rushing to cover for it. “I mean- I don’t- does it matter?”

“Considering your eye’s not missing, it might.” Mumbo held Luke’s shoulder tighter as he spoke, as though worried Luke might try to bolt. “I can see it, it looks fine. What do you mean, you won?”

Luke only heard the first five words. Not missing? That didn’t make any sense- what else could have tilted the scales? A tooth was just worth one point, and Luke didn’t remember making a masterful play right before Mumbo had arrived. Plus, there was the pain, the messed up vision, the cold empty feeling in his eye socket- no, his eye had to be missing. It had to be. It was.

Careful not to push Mumbo’s hand off his cheek, Luke replaced his own over the right side of his face. Infection wasn’t really a thing in Hermitcraft- at least, not in any of the ways Luke had known it to be- but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of leaving his wound exposed to the open air. “It’s- it’s not there, Mumbo, I don’t know what you mean.”

An odd look passed over Mumbo’s face, some impossible mix of both confusion and understanding. “You’re sure?”

Luke closed his eye, tight enough it almost hurt. The sound of the scales tipping was ringing in his ears. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s my eye.”

Mumbo didn’t immediately respond, conversation lapsing into silence as he considered Luke’s words and Luke considered the possible ramifications of replacing his old eye with a spider’s. He would have his vision back, sure, but he also might have to see spiders with sparkling eyes and maid dresses, and the mental toll that would take on him probably wasn’t worth the eye.

“I think…” Mumbo started slowly, Luke opening his good eye to find his face bunched up with concern, “I think you need to talk to Ren and Doc.”

“Our competitors? Why?”

“They’re only competitors during business hours.” Mumbo said with a weak laugh, apparently choosing to ignore that Boatem’s business hours were twenty-four-seven. “Doc’s the expert when it comes to missing eyes, and Ren… will be able to help too.”

An extremely vague (and slightly worrying) way of referring to someone’s helpfulness, Luke decided, but he put it down to Mumbo not knowing how to kindly say that the eye business would be entirely in Doc’s wheelhouse and not at all in Ren’s. If one could consider ‘missing eyes’ to be a wheelhouse, anyways. “I- I don’t want to bother them.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Mumbo reassured him, tacking on a moment after, “It seems… it seems your old server might have handled eye injuries differently then we do, is all.”

Luke looked to the side, trying to determine how sensical the idea was.

(Hermitcraft worked differently than Inscryption did. What did Hermitcraft have to do with any of it, when he was in Inscryption? He couldn’t be in Inscryption, Mumbo was there. Mumbo couldn’t be there, he was in Inscryption. Where was Leshy? Where was his eye?)

Luke shook his head, pulling himself out of the circular thought process. It couldn’t hurt to talk to Doc and Ren. At the very least, he could hopefully get one of them to lend him a spider eye, since Mumbo’s earlier reaction to the concept suggested he wouldn’t be doing so. It wouldn’t be ideal if all the spiders turned into maids, but hey, worst comes to worst he could always replace the eye again. “Yeah- yeah, you’re right. Should I- do you think they’re busy? Will they be at the Octagon?”

“I’ll message them to see if they’re free, and then we’ll see where works best for them to meet. It probably will be the Octagon, but they won’t mind coming over here either, if that would be easier for you.”

“No; no, uh, that’s alright. I’ll go to them.” Luke’s house (Leshy’s cabin) was still too bright around him, and the idea of bringing anyone else to him (the table) was unappealing enough on its own.

“They really won’t mind.” Mumbo reiterated, clearly preferring that plan to Luke’s. Not that Luke could blame him. His navigation skills in Hermitcraft were bad, at best, and that was when he had both eyes.

But Luke would much rather get lost and run into a few trees than so much as entertain the possibility of letting anyone else get anywhere close to Inscryption. “It’s ok, I want to make the trip. The fresh air will be good for me.”

Mumbo hesitated, looking as though he wanted to protest further. In the end, he did reach for his communicator, removing his hand from Luke’s cheek to do so. Luke did his best not to think about how cold his face felt without that warmth. “Okay. I’ll see what they’re doing.”

The slow tap-tap-tap of Mumbo one-handedly typing out his message to Ren and Doc filled the quiet left behind as Luke and Mumbo stopped talking, Mumbo’s other hand having moved to reassuringly run up and down Luke’s arm. Luke focused on the motion and the comfort it offered, drowning out the thoughts still twisting and thrashing in his mind as the various facts he had at his disposal fought over the correct answer to the question of where the hell he was.

(Hermitcraft? No, his eye. Inscryption? No, the hermits. Home? There was someone at the door.)

“Ren says he’s in the woods near Octatown, happy to chat whenever you want to pop by.” Mumbo’s words helpfully derailed Luke’s train of thought, startling it off its tracks. “Doc’s out material gathering, but he’ll be done soon.”

Mentally, Luke did his best to picture the distance between Boatem and Octatown. It was a long walk, but not unreasonably so, and it wasn’t as though Luke had that many other options available to him- flying was out of the question, and while Luke could technically take a boat, it would require the use of both his hands, one of which was still busy covering his lack of a right eye.

“Alright.” Luke stabilized his free hand on the floor, attempting to get up for the first time since he had fallen. “I’ll start heading over now.”

Mumbo followed him in standing up, his grip on Luke’s arm doing more for getting Luke on his feet than Luke was managing on his own. “Now?

“No better time than the present, right?” Luke left out the part where he was avoiding the possibility of Doc deciding it would be easier to swing by Boatem for a visit rather then head all the way back to Octatown, depending on where his material gathering took him. Plus, with how much time the walk would take, Doc would probably be back with Ren by the time Luke reached either of them anyways.

“I suppose.” Mumbo allowed, warily letting go of Luke as if testing if he would fall over the instance he did. Initially, Luke did wobble a bit, but he was much more stable standing then he had been getting off the ground. “I’ll grab a boat.”

“I, uh, I’m going to walk, actually.” Luke hastily told Mumbo before he had a chance to go searching for the marine vehicle. He waved his right arm slightly, an awkward jutting motion with his bent elbow. “Pretty sure I’d row myself in a circle like this.”

Mumbo, fortunately, didn’t point out that Luke could take his hand off his face. Unfortunately, he did have to make a point about what a good boyfriend he was. “Oh, no- I wasn’t going to ask you to row, Luke, I can do that. It’ll get us there faster than walking.”

Luke glanced away from Mumbo. “I don’t want to mess up your plans for the day. I’ll be fine walking.”

“My plans can wait, I’m more worried about you than any of my builds.”

“I don’t- it looks worse than it is, really. Nothing to get too worried about.” The false reassurances tasted bitter on Luke’s tongue, but he swallowed his self-distaste down. Separate, separate, separate. “I’ll go over to Octatown, have Doc take a look at my eye, and be back and better before you’ve had time to finish a redstone circuit.”

No immediate response. Luke refused to meet Mumbo’s gaze, even as he felt it boring into the side of his head. “...You’ll message me if anything changes? Or if you need help?”

“Of course.” Luke managed to kiss Mumbo’s cheek, despite having his hand over his face and despite him being the absolute worst boyfriend to ever boyfriend. “I’ll be back soon.”

Mumbo didn’t respond verbally, instead offering Luke a tight moustache smile as a send-off. It was clear he was attempting to look unworried but was coming up short of the goal by a mile. If Luke didn’t know it would undoubtedly worry Mumbo more, he would have abandoned the plan to meet up with Ren in favour of finding another special dagger to take out his left eye with.

Luke made it out of Boatem without running into any of its other members, which was for the best- he didn’t want to answer any of the questions they would obviously have about his eye. He kept close to the shoreline as he walked, knowing that if he followed the curve between the land and sea he would (theoretically) end up where he needed to be.

By the time Luke had reached the outskirts of Boatem, his thoughts had started wandering again, no possible coworker interactions holding them back. Much as Luke would have preferred to ignore them for a while longer (or, perhaps, forever), they had piled up too high, blocking off any other thoughts for Luke to feed his attention to.

For one, it had finally registered for Luke that the brightness in Leshy’s cabin his house had been coming from the sun, much higher in the sky than he had remembered it being. Time moved differently in Hermitcraft than Luke had been used to, but he had adapted to it, and he was certain they couldn’t have gone from early morning to nearing midday as quickly as it seemed. A single round of cards only took a few minutes, and Leshy would forfeit if it got too drawn out, so where had the time gone? Mumbo had mentioned him being a little unresponsive; had he been that badly caught up in the round (a round he couldn’t even remember) that he hadn’t noticed half of the morning passing outside of his house Leshy’s cabin?

Which prompted another question- why had Luke started a game in the first place? He hadn’t played once since landing in Hermitcraft, the unnatural pull of the game having been severed along with his- his- his what? The word slipped out of Luke’s mental grasp, almost taunting as he glared at his moving feet.

Luke shook his head, dislodging the thought. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had broken his streak of avoiding Inscryption for no apparent reason. Before Hermitcraft, he had played Inscryption for his Youtube channel, and- as he got further into the game and the secrecy that surrounded it- his own need to get to the bottom of the supposedly nonexistent disk. That self-driven interest had eventually corrupted into something darker, evil incarnate latching onto Luke and drawing him in, but if that darkness had creeped into Hermitcraft, Luke would have noticed and fled the server long before he would have willingly opened a cursed save file in the heart of his new world.

And yet he had, eye missing and memory on the fritz for it.

Thinking about Inscryption was most likely what had gotten him into this mess, but Luke risked doing so again in an attempt to think of any other time the game had left him with a hole in his memories. There were plenty of instances of it leaving him with weird memories, but never the absence of them.

(Granted, if it had, it was perfectly reasonable to assume Luke wouldn’t remember not remembering.)

Luke couldn’t recall a time he had booted up Inscryption for no reason either. Be it a good or a bad one (usually bad), Luke had always gone into Inscryption with some sort of goal or purpose. It wasn’t a video game he threw on for fun. Not when the gameplay involved pulling teeth and plucking eyes. Except… Luke had never had to do that himself, had he?

Without realizing, Luke began to drift from the coastline he had been following, wandering more into the wooded area away from the water. He was distracted by flashes of the past, of sitting at his computer and picking up pliers and daggers that had existed solely on the opposite side of the screen, nothing but ones and zeros, never real. He had never lost an eye, his character had. He had never been in Leshy’s cabin, his character had.

Luke (not his character) ran into a tree, having completely stopped paying attention to where he was walking. The collision shook him, but not his thought process, and Luke glanced wildly around the forest suddenly surrounding him. The sun was still high in the sky, bright and warm, but it felt dark and cold, linear, a single path leading to a poorly lit cabin- Leshy’s forest, except it couldn’t be, because Luke had just reestablished for himself that he had never been in that forest, that it didn’t really exist. So he wasn’t at Leshy’s house (virtual, pixelated, he could feel the wood digging into his fingers), so he wasn’t at his house (green screen, computer setup, someone’s at the door), so he wasn’t at his house (green wool, poppy potion, Mumbo’s in the kitchen)- where was he?!

“Luke?”

At the sound of his name, Luke turned his head in the direction it had come from. Standing only a few blocks from him was Ren, axe in one hand and part of a tree trunk on the other. Despite his complete lack of a sense of direction and… whatever was going on in his head, Luke had managed to stumble his way into the Octagon’s forest.

“Ren.” Luke copied Ren’s name greeting, a beat passing in silence before he added, “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes, dude.” Ren informed him, tone a touch incredulous but not harsh. “I know something’s up with your eye, but your hearing hasn’t gone bad too, right?”

The question might have been a joke, but Luke still reached up to check that neither of his ears had managed to fall off without his noticing. “I don’t… think so?”

“I was mostly teasing you.” Ren moved to put his tree-chopping supplies in his pockets, mumbling more to himself than Luke, “Mumbo did say you were a bit out of it…”

Luke considered protesting the statement, deciding against it after he reminded himself how high in the sky the sun was. “Yeah, uh- how much, exactly, has Mumbo told you?”

“That you hurt your eye this morning, and you seemed a bit… confused… but you wouldn’t tell him what happened. Oh, and that he’s worried.” Ren tilted his head slightly. “You wanna move somewhere else before we keep talking? You seem a bit wary of the trees.”

“Oh, no, it’s not- I’m not- the trees are fine, I’m fine. We don’t have to move.” Luke stumbled his way through a very good impression of someone who was absolutely not fine and was, in fact, extremely suspicious of the trees. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to sound any kind of normal as he continued, “Very fine trees, actually- can I ask, uh, whose they are?”

Based on the look Ren was giving him, Luke had missed normality by a mile. “They're closest to Octatown, so I guess me and Doc could claim them, but I think it’s more fitting to say most of our trees belong to Hermitcraft.”

“Most?”

“Treesa belongs solely to Mumbo and Grian.”

The finality with which Ren spoke startled a laugh out of Luke, caught off guard by the levity. “That’s- yeah, that’s true.”

One side of Ren’s moustache ticked up, mimicking a half-smile as he chose to lean against one of the Hermitcraft- not Leshy’s, Hermitcraft’s- trees next to him. “Any other non-technical questions I can answer for you? Doc’s making his way back, but until then it’s just the two of us.”

Right. Luke’s main reason for visiting Octagon- talking to Doc about his supposedly missing eye. “Actually, ah- there is one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

Luke took a step closer to Ren, hesitating before he slowly pulled his hand away from his face, exposing whatever was-or-wasn’t beneath it. “Complete honesty, can you- what do you see?”

Ren’s brow furrowed slightly at Luke’s request. Actually seeing whether or not Luke still had a right eye couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but it took Ren longer than that to reply, looking as though he was carefully weighing his options before he spoke. “I see an eye. No visible signs of injury.”

“Okay. Okay.” Subconsciously, Luke covered his apparently-still-present eye again. “That… that makes sense.”

“Did you expect something else?” Ren asked, and Luke would have taken it as a joke if it weren’t for how serious Ren sounded.

Luke mentally oscillated between a reassuring lie (which Ren would likely see through immediately) and the truth (which he didn’t actually want to share) before settling on an uninformative, “Why would I?”

Much to Luke’s chagrin, the vague rhetorical seemed to only increase Ren’s concern. Standing as he was, slanted against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, Luke got the distinct impression he was being sized up. “Luke, mind if I ask you a question of my own?”

“Technically you already have.” Luke pointed out, as if humour could save him if he believed in it hard enough. “But, uh, yeah, go ahead.”

“What state do you think your eye is in?” Ren’s tone remained serious, an admittedly odd thing to hear from the usually laidback hermit. “Not what makes sense for it, not what me or Mumbo have said about it; what does it feel like to you?”

Luke moved his gaze to the side of Ren, avoiding his eyes. Once again, the option to lie was available, and tempting, but Ren asking the question alone suggested he already knew there was something Luke wasn’t saying. He likely wouldn’t press if Luke did lie, or otherwise refused to answer, but he would still know Luke had purposefully left something unsaid.

Underneath his palm, Luke’s eye socket pulsed with a familiar foreign pain.

“It feels like it isn’t there.” Luke admitted, quietly, neither looking at or away from Ren. “Not just that it’s injured, or not working- it feels like it’s completely gone.”

Out of his limited peripheral, Luke watched Ren's expression change, although he couldn't quite tell what it had become. “Can you tell me what you think happened to it?”

Luke bit back on what he was fairly certain would only sound like a bitter laugh. “What else? It got taken out.”

Ren didn't push for what Luke meant by that, which Luke appreciated. He didn't particularly feel like recounting the exacts of how a phantom dagger gouged out his eye. “Have you ever lost your eye before? In your previous server?”

“I have both my eyes usually, don't I?”

“Most injuries heal.”

Luke shuffled his feet. Right, Hermitcraft, where eyes regenerating was completely normal. “Aren't we a little past you asking one question?”

Arms still crossed, Ren raised one of his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I don't mean to interrogate you, dude, I'm just… trying to see if this is what I think it is.”

“...What do you think this is?” Luke asked, feeling both hesitant and hopeful. If he had any say in the matter, he'd prefer that there would be nothing going on with him; that, with enough time, his eye- which was extremely present and functional- would stop hurting and his thoughts would settle and he would be able to write off the whole situation as the result of stress and exhaustion from the day before. But if that didn't happen, if there was a distinct thing occurring with him… he'd prefer it be something a hermit could name, rather than be something only Inscryption could explain.

Ren didn't reply right away. “Do you know what code confusion is?”

“Please tell me the name is completely unrelated to the condition and it has nothing to do with code.”

Again, Ren took a moment to respond, though Luke doubted thinking had anything to do with the second pause. “Well, it's not technically a condition-”

Luke groaned, aware the non-answer was as good as a direct confirmation. “I have the worst code on the server.”

“I haven't decided if you have it or not!” Ren said with a laugh. Luke was glad to know his suffering was amusing. “And that's not really how code works.”

“My code doesn't work.” Luke snarked despairingly. He'd be lying if he said he fully understood what code was in Hermitcraft, or how it worked, but he knew enough about it to know his was weird and possibly hated him. Was it his fault for coming from a world without it? Probably, but that was hardly his choice, he didn't deserve to deal with the consequences of it. “Let's just- what does it mean to have ‘code confusion?’ Run me through the checklist.”

Ren deliberated Luke’s request for a moment. “Alright man, let’s try this. I’ll name some of the most common symptoms for code confusion, and you can tell me how many of them currently sound like something you’re experiencing.”

“Okay.” Luke nodded once. “Ready.”

“Your perception of the world around you and certain events doesn’t match up with how other players are perceiving things. Some of what you’re perceiving goes against logic and doesn't make sense when you think about it. You’re experiencing things that shouldn’t happen here, but you’ve gone through before on different servers. You don’t feel entirely connected to the world around you, meaning you miss stretches of time or struggle to identify where you are- in general, your memory isn’t as solid as it usually is.” Ren listed out, oddly concise. When Luke didn’t immediately speak, he added, “Any of that seem familiar?”

Luke shot a glance at the trees around them. “Uh. Might be ringing some bells.”

“Which ones?”

“Oh, well, you know. It’s the- they’re all sorta-” Luke made a useless gesture with his free hand. “How many did you- it was a couple of them, like tw- three? Yeah, like three of them. Three bells. Or so.”

Unsurprisingly, Ren didn’t look convinced by Luke’s indirect, barely decipherable response. Luke was barely won over by it himself, and he was more than happy to try and convince himself that he hadn’t hit every item on Ren’s list.

Mimicking how the conversation had been going, however, Ren didn’t try to press Luke for any more helpful information. His expression was caught somewhere between concern and something Luke still couldn’t quite place, watching Luke with it for a moment more before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds like code confusion.”

Luke sighed, feeling simultaneously like a winner and a loser. “Do you guys have awards for having the most messed up code in a server? Because I think I deserve to at least get a trophy for my troubles.”

Ren chuckled. “Code confusion’s not as weird as you’re making it out to be. Most players deal with it at least once, even the low-risk ones.”

“It has risk levels?!” Luke exclaimed before waving his hand, dismissing his own question. “No, nevermind, I probably don’t want to know.”

“Code stuff really throws you, huh?” Ren asked rhetorically, presumably more so to make fun of Luke than to make any notable observation. Luke, who had accepted his place as being the perpetual ‘new hermit on the cube,’ huffed but didn’t try to defend himself (it was not a defense he could hold). “Certain player traits can make code confusion more likely to occur, that's all. They also affect what type of confusion it is.”

“Stop describing it like it’s a Catch Monster’s move.” Luke ground the palm of his hand against the spot where his eye was-and-wasn’t, ignoring Ren’s baffled expression at the reference Luke knew he wouldn’t understand. The playing field was even now. They were both confused. “What exactly is code confusion?”

“Shouldn't that have been your first question?”

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to learn anything about it other than the name.”

Amused, Ren shook his head. “It's exactly what it sounds like. Confusion caused when a player's code conflicts with external code, like server code.”

“...And you said everyone experiences this at least once?” Luke asked, vaguely horrified, trying to reconcile his understanding of code (the minecraft molecules that made up everything) with the concept of them ‘conflicting.’ Was it like blood poisoning? Like getting stabbed (his eye) by pure lifeforce energy? Like the universe was screaming directly at you? None of the options Luke’s imagination offered came off as casual, blasé experiences, even for the unflappable hermits.

“Most occurrences are mild and don’t last very long.” Ren said with a shrug, as if to spite Luke for daring to think the coolheadedness of hermits had a limit. “They’re things like thinking a moment happened twice, or a hybrid’s mob traits coming through when they shouldn’t, or-”

“Are you talking about me?”

Turning his head around fast enough to have broken his neck in his old world, Luke found the source of the sudden voice to be Doc, emerging from the trees behind him. His mechanical wings whirred quietly from where they were settled against his back, suggesting he had flown in and landed somewhere outside the trees before making his way through them to Ren and Luke.

“Not directly.” Ren answered as he pushed off the tree he had been leaning on, the three of them forming a poorly shaped triangle with how they all stood across from each other. “I was explaining code confusion to Luke.”

“Ah.” Doc tucked his hands into the pocket of his lab coat, nodding. “It’s a good thing I’m here, then. Ren is not a trustworthy source on these things.”

“Hey!” Ren protested, faux offended. “I know what I'm talking about.”

“Which is precisely the problem.” Doc replied, giving Ren a look that had him glancing away, suddenly sheepish. Doc sighed before turning to Luke. “What has he told you so far?”

“Nothing comforting.”

Ren had his hands up in surrender before Doc could fully materialize a glare against him. “Not my fault, man. He hates everything to do with code.”

“He’s right, I do.” Luke confirmed. “Actually, Doc, if you could tell me that code confusion isn’t even a real thing and this is all an elaborate prank, that would be great.”

“Code confusion is very real.”

“I will also accept being lied to, if that’s what it takes.”

Doc huffed a laugh. “No lying. Code confusion is helped by talking about it, not,” Doc looked back towards Ren as he stressed the word, tone suddenly very pointed, “by keeping secrets.”

“Iiiin general, yes, but if you have enough experience-”

“You spent a week convinced we had all been taken over by a mysterious virus that was going to crash the entire server.” Doc interrupted bluntly. “We only found out when you collapsed from exhaustion trying to build an anti-doomsday device.”

Again, Ren looked away, abashed. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Mission unsuccessful.” Doc said flatly, staring at Ren a moment longer before shaking his head and returning to Luke. “Code confusion can technically go away on its own, but it takes a very long time. Talking to other players about it helps. Do not make secrets out of it.”

“...And what happens if I… do make secrets out of it?”

Doc looked disappointed that Luke was even asking the question, which Luke regrettably couldn’t hold against him. “Nothing good.”

Luke looked to Ren, as if the man who had just been repeatedly proven to be untrustworthy when it came to handling code confusion would provide him with a different, more helpful option. He didn't. “Doc's right. Ignoring code confusion only makes it worse in the long run. Something I was going to mention, for the record.”

“Sure, Ren.” Doc said placatingly in reply, prompting Ren to pull an expression that was more fitting for a Shakespearean tragedy than Hermitcraft jabbing. Doc simply refocused his attention on Luke. “Why did you two start talking about code confusion anyway? Mumbo said you were coming over to get your eye checked out.”

Ren, busy with recreating the moment Brutus stabbed Caesar, was unhelpful in providing Luke with a segway between the two semi-connected topics. “Uh, well… I mean, I am still here because of my eye.”

Doc's mechanical eye whirled quietly as he squinted at Luke, slightly confused, before he shrugged. “Mind if I look at it, then?”

Skillfully, Luke had backed himself into a different corner, one where he actually had to show Doc his technically-present eye. It would have come up eventually, no matter what he said, and the whole point of his visit was to let Doc check out his eye, but that didn't magically make Luke want to do it. Honestly, the spider eye plan was looking better every second.

But Doc was still waiting, looking more confused by Luke's lack of an answer with each passing second, and Luke decided showing off his not-missing missing eye would be a lot less effort than producing a reasonable excuse for why he didn't want to do that.

Feeling more like he was offering up his eye to Leshy than Doc, Luke slowly pulled his hand away from his face, once more revealing the area of interest. Doc took a step closer to Luke when he did so, mechanical eye once more humming with redstone as it- presumably- zoomed in on Luke's face.

“My scans aren’t picking up on any physical issues with the eye.” Doc said after a moment, blinking and returning to focusing on Luke’s face instead of only his eye. “What problems have you been experiencing?”

“Just that I can’t see out of it right now,” Luke answered, adding in a mumble, “because it doesn’t feel like it’s there…”

“What was that?”

Before Luke had the chance to dodge the question, Ren answered it for him, having dropped his dramatics while Doc was performing his scan. “He thinks his eye is missing. That it was… removed.”

“Ah.” Doc said, the single syllable sounding much more knowing than Luke liked. “That's why you were talking about code confusion.”

With a sigh, Luke replaced his hand over his face. “And that's why I'm trying to pretend it's not real, yeah.”

Doc crossed his arms, suddenly much more grim than he had been. “Is this something that happened on your old server?”

“My eyes were and have been fine since I arrived.” Luke reminded, uncomfortably aware that wasn't really the question Doc was asking. “Ren already asked about it.”

“We know you don't have a perma-injury.” Ren confirmed, his mood having come to match Doc's. “But code confusion usually sources from actual code, including that generated on past servers.”

Though neither Doc nor Ren had technically asked it, the question clearly on both of their minds hung in the air between them and Luke, with tension you'd need a diamond sword to cut through: what happened on your last server that took out your eye?

Luke just turned his head away from them, silent. What was he supposed to tell them?

It happened on my old ‘server’ to a character I was playing in a cursed game.

My eyes are fine, my eyes have always been fine, except in the game that owned me more than I owned it.

It doesn't matter, it was my choice anyways.

It doesn't matter, I had to win.

Picking up on his not-at-all-hidden discomfort, Luke watched from the corner of his eye as Ren and Doc had a quick, silent discussion. Luke was sure he would have found their ability to do so more impressive were it not for the fact they were currently using it to talk about him in front of his back.

“You don't have to talk to us about it.” Ren said when he and Doc had finished, genuine despite it being obvious they wished he would. “But… you need to tell someone.”

“To help with the code confusion.” Doc expanded on when it remained clear Luke was still very not interested in the idea of doing so. He added, softer, “And to help in general.”

Luke, instinctively, wanted to protest. Talking about Inscryption the video game had not once, in his life or after it, done him or anyone around him any good. Even if it would theoretically help with his eye, that only made it- at best- a necessary evil. Not something good. Not something helpful.

But Ren and Doc didn’t look like they’d accept any of the arguments he’d have to offer- not that he even could offer any, since he wasn’t going to try and convince them that the reason he couldn’t do anything was because of ‘evil’- and along with that, there was a look in both their faces that Luke couldn’t quite place, something like a knowing worry. It made something twist in his gut, in the empty not-empty space of his eye socket, with self-directed sympathy, forcing him to consider that maybe their advice was sound.

“Who you talk to about it is up to you, it doesn’t have to be someone in Boatem.” Ren continued when Luke, contemplating, remained silent. “But you probably should tell Boatem whoever it ends up being. Past-specific code confusion can’t always be helped without its… context.”

Luke very much did not like how Ren said ‘context.’ “Okay, yeah, I’ll… I’ll do that.”

Luke wasn’t sure how convincing he sounded, given he was still only half-looking at them and hardly sounded thrilled about the situation he was apparently trapped in, but he was briefly saved from any further scrutiny by Doc grimacing. “Speaking of Boatem… you may want to go back soon, Luke.”

“Why? Is something happening?” Luke dug his free hand into his pocket, pulling out his communicator and checking for messages. It didn’t have any new ones, which made sense given he hadn’t felt it buzz, but Luke didn’t entirely trust in its ability to always reach him from his ‘inventory.’ “I didn’t think we had any group plans today.”

“It’s not…” Doc hesitated, clearly trying to decide the best way to phrase whatever he was about to say. A small bit of Luke’s Inscryption-centric worry graciously broke free to independently devote itself to worrying about whatever it was Doc was about to say. “It’s about Mumbo.”

“What?!”

“He’s fine, just stressed.” Doc reassured, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder to prevent him from doing something like sprinting back to Boatem or falling over. “Which is having an amplified effect on all of Boatem, since he won’t tell them why, but they’re fine too.”

As fast as it had shot through him, Luke’s panic soured and curdled into guilt, pressing heavy against his chest. “But the sooner I get back, the better.”

Doc nodded in confirmation. Ren shifted in place. “Do you want help with a flight back? It’d be fastest.”

Luke made a helpless gesture with the elbow of his occupied arm. “I’m a bit limited in my travel options right now.” He said, feeling foolish but not able to help it. He knew it’d be fine if he uncovered his eye, that even if his eye was missing (it was, it wasn’t, it didn’t matter) his hand wouldn’t be achieving much anyways, but he couldn’t imagine trying to make a flight with it uncovered, wobbly and unbalanced as the wind rushed directly at his face-

Doc removed his hand from Luke’s shoulder, taking a moment to search through his lab coat pockets before holding something out to Luke. It took Luke a moment to actually process what it was, distracted by his thoughts, but when he did, he found it was a black eyepatch, different from ones Luke had seen in his old world only because of its square shape and blocky corners.

“I use these when I take my mechanical eye out for repair work.” Doc explained, extending his hand a bit further when Luke didn’t immediately take it. “It might help.”

Brain having caught up to what was happening, Luke quickly accepted the offered solution. He slipped the patch under his hand and over his eye before pulling its band around his head, making it so there wasn’t so much as a second where the painful non-injury was uncovered.

Miraculously, the code confusion attempting to ruin Luke’s life accepted the eyepatch covering over his hand. Luke dropped his arm to his side for the first time since the attack that hadn’t happened, the stiffness gained from holding the same position for so long only barely registering to Luke as he focused on exchanging his communicator in hand for his elytra and rockets instead.

“I think I’ll be fine to fly back on my own,” Luke started as he tugged on his elytra, trusting in the politeness of the group to not point out that his definition of ‘fine’ when it came to flying was equivalent to aiming for a successful crash-landing, “but thank you both for reminding me how awful code is, and the associated advice.”

“Any time.” Ren said lightly, both him and Doc stepping back while Luke prepared to take off. Luke appreciated the rare display of Hermits practicing safety. “Stop by again later, alright, dude? I promise we won’t talk about code at all.”

“Sounds great.” Luke replied, honest if a bit preoccupied as he readied his incendiary devices. He waited an extra few seconds, making sure neither of the Octagon leaders had anything else to add, taking off as soon as it was clear they didn’t. He went airborne with what was more luck than ease, not yet breaking his streak of not accidentally blowing himself up with fireworks, though the semantics of such things couldn’t be further from Luke’s mind in the moment.

Instead, his focus was entirely taken up with getting back to Boatem and getting back to Mumbo.

#lucky jumbo #luke carder #mumbo jumbo #rendog #docm77 #hermitcraft #inscryption #m.y funky words #mfw: lltab #everyone say sorry to luke for me . i am putting him through several wringers #if u are someone who doesnt know inscryption and have any questions about it after reading this PLEASE #feel free to reach out to me i love talking inscryption i will answer all questions happily

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omegasmileyface · 2 years ago

Text

The Forest, the Trees, the Fire I: CATALYST

Chapter 7

chapter 6 was also posted earlier, so go check that one out if you missed it! Authors: @attackradish, @ectolemonades, me. Artist: @/crunchysart

For the full characters list, word count, content warning, and a directory to all the currently available chapters and related content, see the Table of Contents!

full summary: The world outside of Amity Park has learned about the existence of ghosts, and the time for first impressions has arrived. The delicate public consciousness could be disrupted by the slightest ripple. Danny Fenton is being ripped apart from all sides, and when he finally breaks, the ripples will be very big indeed.

warnings: references to racism and classism

words: 2467

AO3 link

first chapter

previous chapter

next chapter

===

January 16, 2007

Jazz was trying very hard to focus on her dinner and not the growing anxiety around her new syllabi when her phone chimed. She had tried to set a boundary that she would never check her phone during meals and take that important rest period away from herself, but it was the first time it had gone off since Christmas. She couldn't resist!

Tucker Foley: (17:20) dannys missing. havent heard frm him since th 5th

Well. That certainly ruined the mood.

You: (17:20) Crap. R we sure that he's not just busy? 11 days is a lot but he's weird like that from time 2 time

Tucker Foley: (17:22) c thats the thing. hes been MIA a lot recently. several days at a time. but im more worried this time bcuz the portals gone

Oh. Oh, shit, that was new.

You: (17:22) The portal is GONE? How do u kno? What happened?

Tucker Foley: (17:23) whole ectomap is diff. not sure. phone call? i can get us some better communication

Jazz was shaking in her dining hall seat. Danny was gone, with no reliable way of getting between realms? Mom and Dad were alone, in the middle of an anti-ghost government incursion, and with their life's work inactive for whatever reason?

Maybe everything added together in the ways she feared, maybe it didn't. Either way, something terrible was either happening or about to happen. She could already feel the guilt weighing on her for not thinking to go back home before now.

You: (17:25) Maybe. I'm coming over tho.

Jazz managed to clean up her dinner and start heading back to her dorm before Tucker called.

"You're coming, for real?"

"Yeah. Clearly stuff's going on in Amity, and I need to be there for it."

"Yeah, but, like, don't you have classes that you can't miss?"

Jazz double-checked that her roommate wasn't in before continuing. "Tucker, my baby brother is missing, while my parents are working with the group that's getting his existence criminalized across the whole country. Why would that not be worth pushing my degree back a bit?"

"Just feels like a waste of loan money, is all."

Jazz shrugged. "I'll just loot Vlad's house and sell all his Packers merch."

"I imagine the feds already beat you to that. Good luck, though."

At least five outfits and two pairs of pajamas, check. Toiletries, check. "What'd they do with all his money, anyway? Maybe it's still out there and you could wire me some of it."

"Why do you think I can do that? I'm not a comic book character, Jazz, I'm a teen with a piracy hobby."

Jazz hesitated for a moment before packing Bearbert Einstein. "Worth a shot. So, what's been up with you?"

"What's been up with me? Oh, you're chatting. We're chatting. You really must not have any friends of your own."

"Tucker!"

"Sorry, just an observation. I'm sorry. Well. I made a little system people in town can use to plan pro-ghost protests and stuff, but otherwise I've been trying to stay out of it, even though it's been a little lonely."

Jazz hummed. She'd better pack a towel. For all she knew, the extras back home had been sewn into some kind of ectophobic parachute.

"Lola got in trouble at school for defending Phantom in front of the vice principal. Like, she had to stay after school while he checked with the GIW to make sure they didn't have to write her up or anything. Fuck that guy, honestly. So my parents have been on edge, and they don't want me drawing any attention. Lola's eight years old, and pretty fuckin' cute too! If she gets in that kinda trouble, imagine what'll happen if they think me or my parents are pro-ghost."

Jazz cringed. "That really sucks."

"Yeah. I know."

She gave the room another quick once-over to be sure she didn’t miss anything she'd need for the next month or two. "How's Sam?"

"Couldn't tell ya. Her parents were pissed when they found out she was leading all those protests, and they moved away."

"Oh. Haven't you been talking?"

"Not really. What would we talk about, anyway? She's still mad because I wouldn't join her on the front lines. She doesn't get it. If she gets arrested protesting, she gets an embarrassing picture in the newspaper and her parents pay a fine and life goes on. If the same thing happened to me, my future would be ruined, forget that I'm not eighteen yet. Nobody employs a Black kid who has a criminal record before graduating."

"I'm really sorry that's something you have to worry about."

"Whatever. It's Sam! I'm sure she'll figure it out in a couple months and immediately pivot to doing the exact opposite. She never turns down self-sacrifice when it makes her look good."

Jazz gathered up her backpack and duffel by the door. "Wow, sounds like you really haven't been getting along at all lately."

Tucker sighed on the other end of the phone. "Honestly, we never would have been friends if Danny wasn't there. He made it make sense somehow. Not that I don't like hanging out with Sam! She manages to keep up with our humor and stuff. But it's hard when there's nobody there to buffer her. …Or me. Probably shocking to hear this from Too Fine himself, but I know I can be kind of a hassle when I lose my impulse control."

"That's a really intelligent thought, Tucker. Maybe it'll help you build new friendships, if you want."

He scoffed. "You really therapy-talking me at seven PM? You must miss Danny bad."

"Could you give me a sec? I need to write something."

"She's deflecting now!" The line went quiet.

Jazz gathered up her roommate's sticky notes and pen. Sorry, Lin. I'm gonna be gone for a while, at least a week. Family emergency. Not sure when I'll be back, but if you see a ghost who looks like me and she asks for my stuff, let her take it. Thanks!

"'Kay. Anything else to say?"

"Not really. I honestly wasn't expecting a conversation. I guess, um… how have you been?"

"Eh. College. Hey, I'll be back in Amity by… midnight. Make sure it's not up in flames by the time I get there?"

"You're driving now? I knew you got your dad's bad road habits! Please don't fall asleep at the wheel, okay? I'll do my best to keep everything un-up-flamed until you get here."

Jazz clipped the seatbelts over her bags, just to be extra sure they wouldn't fly around. "Of course! I've got my soundtrack. Later, Tucker." She shut off her phone and stuck in her favorite hip-hop CD she kept hidden under the passenger seat. Time for a very reasonable amount of speeding.

===

"Huntress!"

Valerie looked down from her latest capture to see the Doctors Fenton, waving their hands like little kids to get her attention. She went down to meet them.

"Yes?"

"We've always been really impressed with your efficiency at dealing with ghosts," said Maddie.

Val thought back to all the times the Fentons had shown up to a ghost sighting already yelling, plotting their every move out loud. Sure, she had better tech nowadays, but she was pretty sure her greatest weapon against ghosts was common sense. "Thank you." Still, not bad to kiss up when it came to making connections. "That means a lot, from professional hunters such as yourselves."

"You may know that we've been working with the Garrison Irving Walker Commission recently," said Jack.

She didn't, but it didn't particularly surprise her.

"Well, we've been wanting to have you come in so we can talk business!"

"And by we," chimed in Maddie, "he means the Commission."

Mentally, Valerie prepped a fake signal to go off on her suit so she had an excuse to leave if she needed. She knew the GIW weren't after her, but she had been sort of avoiding them recently. Just in case. "Business?"

"We're all wondering how you make it look so easy!"

"And how you made that flashy suit!"

"It's not an interrogation or anything, we just want you to share some tricks of the trade if you've got time."

Valerie wasn't sold, so she used a technique she'd picked up when applying for jobs. "I'll have to make some time. Could I contact you later with a schedule?"

"Sure! The FentonWorks phone number—"

"Maybe a GIW number would work better? Since it's set up with them."

"For sure!" Maddie grabbed a business card from her utility belt. "If you just press 0 a bunch, you'll get to the receptionist eventually."

"We look forward to hearing from you!"

===

"What would they do if you said no?" Damon Gray asked. He handed Valerie another soapy plate.

She let the water finish running over the plate before she spoke. "I almost don't want to think about it. I mean, I want to think that they'll just respect my privacy as a fellow ghost fighter, but they didn't really have a lot of reason to look into Mr. Masters, did they? If they're that paranoid, won't they look into me too?"

"Well, let's think about it this way." Damon hung the dishcloth back on the faucet. Nice, sub-ten-minutes dishes! "What's the worst outcome if they do look into you?"

"Well, they find my secret identity."

"And then?"

"And then… they get mad at me for doing vigilante stuff. They arrest me for the property damage I've done in fights, and take my suit away because I'm a kid."

"Is that it? Could be worse. I'm sure the people will be on your side because of how much you've helped the cities before. Will they look into your suit at all?"

"Ooh, yeah, if they can. It's sort of bonded to me right now."

Damon frowned but didn't interrupt.

"They might find out that I'm using tech that came from ghosts. I bet they wouldn't like that."

"They all use ecto-technology stuff too, right? I'm sure they wouldn't mind too much, since you're human."

Valerie didn't respond.

"…Well," said Damon, "I'm gonna go get the mail. Let me kn—"

"What if I wasn't?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean— not that I'm not human! And I'm definitely not a ghost. But what if there were some ghostly things about me?"

"Sweetie, what aren't you telling me?"

Valerie turned away. "…Weird ghostly stuff has been happening to me for a few months and I think it's because of my suit."

"Valerie Gloria Gray!"

"It's not that bad! Like, y'know, sometimes when I'm embarrassed I'll get kinda see-through for a sec. O-or when I want my suit to do something, it does it before I tell it to."

"No, as a matter of fact, I do not know!" Damon sighed. "But I'm glad you're okay."

Valerie nodded.

"I'm going to want to talk about this later, but right now I'm getting the mail. I'll just say this before I go; the GIW is supposed to be protecting humans, right? If they're any good at their job, they won't do anything drastic because you're so human."

"Okay. Yeah."

"Love you."

"Thanks, Dad."

Still… better safe than sorry. Valerie was going to find a phone booth tomorrow and schedule the meeting for Saturday.

===

Danny hated the basement of the Keep. He hated it, even more than he hated the rest of the place. Even when it was updated with shiny black and white stone and glass like the rest of the building, it still felt old and foreboding.

When people called the building a "keep", they usually meant it more metaphorically, or they just didn't know that keeps were short-term military hideouts. Most of the structure was more like a palace, enduring and luxe. The basement, though, was the site of a permanent last stand. It had morphed out of the old throne room and kept all the miasma from before, without most of the deathtraps. It was the heart of the palace, in the way that a fear response starts in the heart and radiates outward.

And here Danny was, trying to open up old wounds.

The Fright Knight's resting place was exactly where it had been before, dutifully beside his old king, even if they were both cursed to sleep forever. It was sort of romantic, almost. Like poetry. If you squinted.

But when Danny took the sword out of the pumpkin, the Fright Knight only had to look around for a few seconds before he kneeled, seemingly having figured out the whole… situation. Not that he had expected any serious loyalty out of the knight after his previous escapades, but that was sort of sad.

It didn't seem like the knight was going to stand up unless Danny said something.

"Um… hey. Hi. You can stand."

He stood.

"You have a lot of military leadership experience, right?"

"Yes, my King."

"Alright. Have you ever dealt with passive defense? Like, not going out and fighting so much as preparing to only defend if necessary?"

"Of course. While it is not a responsibility I've had particularly often, it is something I've studied and practiced."

"Okay. I think the entirety of the Infinite Realms are going to be attacked soon."

The Fright Knight valiantly concealed a look of skepticism.

"Honestly! There are humans with a lot of technology, a lot of brainpower, and an unthinkable amount of hatred. I'm going to be doing all I can to prevent things from getting that bad on the diplomatic side, but... I don't want to ignore any possibilities."

"That's very intelligent, my King. Would you like me to suggest strategies on defense?"

"Yeah! I'd like to talk through any thoughts you have on defense and anything else, if that's okay. You have way more experience than me."

"Understood. Would it be possible to bring me something on which to write? I believe it would make the explanation easier."

"Of course. We can do whatever makes you most comfortable. I'm not planning on putting you back in there any time soon— I mean, unless you do something terrible— so you may as well get cozy."

The pair moved into the library and before too long, talk of a general ghost defense movement turned into full lectures on the possible ways to handle the humans' anti-ghost shift. Tactic after tactic came back to one thing.

"We will only have negotiating power if you tell the humans that you are prepared to destroy them and mean it."

Danny weighed that thought in his mind for a bit. He turned the idea around, considering its taste. He didn't like it.

"And will you mean it, Phantom?"

"Mm… I think I will."

#my writing #danny phantom #invisobang 2023 #ftf catalyst #the forest the trees the fire

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 2 years ago

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 16

Hello! I managed to figure out what I was gonna write, and I'm pretty happy with how the story's slowly unfolding as the girls settle into the Shire. I promise some more weird stuff is gonna happen next chapter. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1814

Warnings: Nothing really, this chapter's pretty chill.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 >

Part 2: Chapter 16 -

'Let's go on a shopping spree!' They said, unemployed.

Rúnda (Definition): Magical, mysterious, secret, confidential (Adjective / Origin: Old Irish / Ron·dah)

“You mean to tell me that the glowing ghost of a dragon popped over for a visit to give you your stuff whilst I recovered from a near-death experience?”

I had explained to Kay the events of last night, sparing no details as I recited the story from when I went to blow out the candle, to waking up and finding my trunk and bag in the wardrobe.

“More like lunged at me and gave me a new fear of wardrobes.” I said as I folded the final top into one of the empty drawers. “It’s like Middle Earth wants us to think we’re going to die before letting us have anything nice.”

“Tell me about it.” Kay agreed as she touched the gash on her forehead that was now scabbed over.

I strained my ears to listen for Bilbo, and hearing the clanging of pots, I figured he was still in the kitchen. Making my way across the room, I whispered to Kay.

“We need to leave the dragon part out of the story when we tell Bilbo though. Can’t have him scared shitless about something that happened in his own home. And if it even was a dragon, they aren’t well received here.”

Kay nodded, returning to emptying my trunk that was unsurprisingly still overflowing with stuff I had unnecessarily packed. Almost elbow deep she pulled out a black mass, and I gasped excitedly as she threw me my Toothless teddy. I walked to the head of the bed, tucking the soft dragon into the covers, amused at the apparent dragon theme that was repeatedly appearing. Turning around, my eyes landed on Kay pulling out a small wooden chest, it’s length the about the size of a medium sized book. She side-eyed me with a stare.

“I didn’t pack that.” I stated, pointing at it.

“Sure you didn’t.”

“You think I’m gonna pack my whole witch box???”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to pack the kitchen table.” She retorted.

I dead-panned at the remark, then let out a frustrated grunt, flopping onto the bed.

“Ok you got me, but I’m serious when I said I didn’t pack the box.” I explained.

“I know, I remember watching you unpack at the hostel. Which means there could be some other things in here from our actual homes.”

I sat up as a thought came to mind. “Doesn’t that mean you’ll have extra stuff in your suitcase?”

Kay remained in thought for a moment. “It could!”

“Well then, why don’t you go and see?” I suggested.

She nodded, placing the chest down next to me before she was out the door. I reached over, picking up the maroon-stained wooden box and placing it on my lap. It looked just like how I left it, sigils and runes gently carved into the lid and sides. Sliding the two metal clasps out of their locks, I lifted the lid, peering inside.

The contents were your run-of-the-mill witch supplies, coloured candles, oils, a set of tarot cards, jars and bottles – some empty, some full – and a box containing a few of my favourite types of incense. I figured my box of herbs was hidden somewhere else among my stuff. It wasn’t anything special, considering I was in the very early stage of learning witchcraft, barely on the brink of becoming intermediate, and being an atheist your whole life brought its difficulties, because of how much my sub-consciousness would doubt any of it was real or not. But I was determined to learn, even if it was for the rest of my life.

Setting the chest down on the duvet beside me, I stood up and walked over to the trunk sitting open on the floor. I then spent the next half-hour or so rummaging through and organising everything that was left. During that time, I had discovered the small box of herbs, filled with corked jars and miniature bags of every herb and plant I could find. Alongside it had been my Grimoire and Book of Shadows, now relieved that I could continue my journey of learning and be able to document it. I flicked through the pages, glancing at my loopy handwriting smudged with ink splotches until I landed on the ones that were yet to be filled. Snapping them shut, I locked the clasp on one and tied the band around the other, hiding them away in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. Though I knew that Bilbo would find them eventually – probably whilst he was putting washing away or dusting.

Admiring the now empty floor, I let out a satisfied hum and exited the bedroom. Arriving at the kitchen, I saw Bilbo in the same setting I had found him last night – his hands protected by a tea towel as he poured steaming tea into cups – but this time he was surrounded by plates loaded with an English Breakfast (or whatever the people of Middle Earth called it here).

Breakfast flew by, and we both told Bilbo about how my things had appeared overnight, purposely leaving out the ghost creature. I wasn’t officially sure whether or not it was a dragon, but its features closely resembled one, so I automatically went with calling it one.

We cleared up, and Bilbo announced that we were heading over to Gladiola Greenfoot’s place, whom he had mentioned during our first morning here.

“We’re going to see if Mrs Greenfoot is willing to measure you both up and sew you a couple outfits.” He explained. “And you can offer some kind if service in return.”

“Are you sure?” Kay asked. “Because our clothes should do us fine.”

“They’ll do you good until Mrs Greenfoot’s finished, because then you’ll both fit in easier.”

I nodded in agreement, remembering how easily tarnished our Earth clothes became after only one day of hiking in the rain. As we walked into the entrance hall, I looked for our shoes, only to find them missing.

“Uh, Bilbo?” He hummed in response. “Where are our shoes?”

His mouth made an o shape as he recalled what he had done earlier. “Ah, I uhh, put them away. You won’t be needing those things around here, barefoot should be just fine.”

We blinked in surprise.

“But our feet –” I lifted my foot up, showing the smooth sole underneath. “They’re not as tough as yours, and they’re way more sensitive so it’ll hurt if we step on anything sharp.”

Bilbo stared as if he had never seen a human foot in his life, before replying. “Well you should be fine, it’s mostly grass and you should get used to the dirt and stones in no time. Saves you both even more strange looks if you were to wear those shoe-things anyway.”

Kay and I looked at each other incredulously, wondering what had gotten into the hobbit. I let out a sigh and relented, Kay following not soon after. With a grin Bilbo strode towards the door, swinging it open and marched out into the warm early autumn sun. Not bothering to put on any more layers – due to the warm temperature – we both trailed after Bilbo, preparing ourselves for any sharp object that would eventually find its way underfoot.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“Bilbo Baggins! What in Yavanna’s name have you done now?!”

Bilbo cringed at the taut voice of Gladiola as he neared her hobbit hole, the hobbit calling out to him through the open front window. Disappearing out of sight, she quickly appeared again as she swung the yellow circular door open and marched out into the front garden until she reached the fence.

She was the embodiment of your stereotypical female hobbit. A short but full and curvy body, along with a round face framed by light brown curls that were half-tied up – though not too round to where it complimented her sharper, light brown eyes and brows. But despite the scowl on her face, her smile lines were still prominent along with the fresh wrinkles that had begun to show her aging. She was adorned in a simpler outfit compared to the frills and pleats of the upper class lady-hobbits that lived near Bilbo. A dusky maroon underskirt was half-hidden by a floral patterned gown that reminded Kate of marigolds and straw, ending about six inches above the underskirt. The top layer was a comfortable looking, tan-brown bodice, laced up with ribbon, along with a shawl tied loosely around her shoulders, the maroon colour matching the underskirt.

“I haven’t done anything!” Bilbo cried in protest.

“You call that ‘not doing anything?’” She jabbed a short finger in our direction. “Look at the two of them! The poor girls are barely clothed!”

The girls heads raised from where Kate was trying to pry a stone that had embedded itself in her foot, then looked back down at their clothes confusedly, wondering why a simple pair of loose, baggy joggers and oversized T-shirts were considered barely clothed. That was, until they remembered where they were.

“And why are they covered in cuts and bruises?!” Gladiola scolded, gesturing at the two again. “Honestly Bilbo, I can’t leave you for a minute otherwise you’d end up wandering off to marry some orc or dwarf or whatever those adventures bring!”

“Mrs Greenfoot!” Poor Bilbo protested, his ears and face flushing a rosy pink. “Dr Noakesburrow has already seen to them, and they’re healing just fine! I brought them here to see if you would help with them settling in. They’ll be staying for a while with me, you see – shelter in exchange for work and chores.”

“I see.” Gladiola raised an eyebrow. “I can only guess you’re here to get them clothes?”

Bilbo nodded whilst letting out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, please.” He breathed, relieved that the conversation had veered to what he wanted in the first place. “Though they haven’t got any money to give you, so they’re willing to repay you in work hours.”

Mrs Greenfoot stood silent for a moment as she pondered the possibilities. Turning to the girls, she spoke.

“Are you two any good at looking after kids?” She asked, the demanding tone in her voice causing the girls to stand at full attention. They both nodded. “And how long are you staying to do it?”

“As long as you need.” Kay replied, a polite smile on her face.

The hobbit turned back towards Bilbo and gave him a pointed look. “And are you willing to let them stay for as long as I need them?” He also nodded.

“Alright then!” Mrs Greenfoot clapped her hands together, causing the other three to jump slightly. “It’s settled! Bilbo, go fetch us some of that tea leaves from Bree at the market.” She beckoned the girls towards her with a warm smile that contrasted the stern expression she had earlier.

“Let’s get you both measured up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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< Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 >

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Can't wait to see you soon for Chapter 17! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

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#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #kili x reader #fili #kili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #fili x oc #kili x oc #thorins company x reader #thorins company #To the Shadows that Cry Witch #big soup #kili durin

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changelingwrites · 4 months ago

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Writing Journal 3/6/25

Alright, I have mostly recovered from midterms and am officially back to working on the fic for this week. This is gonna be a long one so everything's gonna be under the cut. I'll do the stuff for who are you willing to lose first and the crows fic second.

The new chapter for who are you willing to lose is literally done except for One Scene that is literally killing me. Sil and I have Matching Frustration levels about it at this point /j.

Its looking like the crows fic for this week is gonna be the backstory for the omegaverse fics I've been writing which is fun! I just have to finish it! Which is less fun!

The good news is that I have made a lot of progress in the Mapping Out of both the new crows fic and who are you willing to lose so we've got some updates~~

Who are you willing to lose: Is officially (hopefully) going to be ten chapters that will be grouped into arcs based on age and the age is chosen based on the big things that happen around that time.

Chapters 1-3: Ages of our crew range from 15-17

Chapters 4-6: Ages will start 17-19 and end around 21-23 (this is the one that is most likely to turn into a whole separate arc thus adding a few more chapters to the end result)

Chapters 7-9: Ages will be 28-30

Chapter 10: Bonus Felicia and Silco sibling scene(s) for the epilogue

Obviously, considering how short my chapters already are not everything is going to be covered over the course of their lives. I am already planning to have some extras as stand alone fics once who are you willing to lose is over. I just dont want to over extend an already very long fic with every job and fight they ever got into.

The Backstory Fic: This one is a little less "planned out" updates wise because its already written for the most part, I just have a few notes

Its going to be multiple chapters. I will try to get all of them done before posting it so there doesn't have to be a multi-week wait for them all to come out, but that might not be possible.

It is not going to cover the actual getting together of the pack in much depth. Most of it is going to be focused on the inciting incident on why all of the crows started working together as a unit.

Which means! Yes! It is a little bit of a first book re-write. Due to the world building of the omegaverse aspects of the universe I created I needed a different event to force the six of them together or the inconsistencies would have Killed Me.

Speaking of inconsistencies: Everyone's getting aged up a year! In order for certain things that I have planned for the future to make sense (a specific silly pretty girl's baby being a Specific Age perhaps) everyone needed to be one year older! Happy birthday!

I think that's all for me! I am still working on the heat fic I mentioned in my last post about what you aren't allowed to want we just haven't been on speaking terms for a minute (nothing I write feels Good and I'm being a perfectionist.)

#char's writing journal

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noco7 · 3 years ago

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people might be wondering about the state of ch.12 and uhh it’s going. I got a late start on it because my internet was being wonky this past week. But now I’m working on it, so here’s the update

#NCi7 #i write way too much #like i have an outline #but then i add random shit #the chapter was packed BEFORE i started adding extra stuff #but like im too attached to the random things #to want to delete them #so we'll see #i'm going to guess that im a third of a way through the chapter #so in two more days the first draft will be done #and then maybe i'll take another two days to revise it #and rounding up #might come out in a week #sorry i know it's taking a while #but uhh #my last few chapters were really good so i hope that makes up for it #nervous laughter #also in case u were wondering #most of those 21 pages is NOT them cooking

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hollandorks · 3 years ago

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middle of the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter two

summary: y/n’s life changes immensely, starting with the Batman falling out of the sky right in front of her and ending with a promising new job at Wayne Manor. As her life intertwines with that of both Batman and Bruce Wayne, she begins to figure out that there’s more to both than meets the eye. No spoilers for the Batman movie.

a/n: thanks everyone for loving this fic so much after just one chapter! This chapter is just filler/ foundational stuff. The next two chapters after this will be a lot more interesting I promise. I thrive off reader feedback so please feel free to drop a comment, ask, or even yell in the tags if you reblog! I’m also creating a taglist I’ll update with every chapter so let me know if you want to be added to that.

Series Masterlist

word count: 3572

But he was gone. Armor and all. The front door was still locked and–there, at the window, a shadow.

Batman was gone.

Y/n spent the next week going over every single detail of that night. For two nights, she stared up at the signal against the clouds and hoped for a glimpse of him. She told no one of their encounter and went along with life as usual. But she couldn’t stop thinking about how Gotham’s protector had been in her apartment. How real he had been. The flesh and blood beneath the suit. She’d always known there was a man under there, but now she’d gotten a glimpse of him. The real man. The real Batman.

A week after her encounter with Batman, there was a new job posting.

For Wayne Manor.

It was just for a housekeeping position, but still sent a little thrill up her spine when she saw it. There were going to be scheduled interviews–by appointment only–for the next week at the Wayne Enterprises offices. No pay information was available, but she didn’t care. Anything was better than what she had.

The official company wasn’t hiring, but apparently Bruce Wayne himself was.

She immediately sent in her resume. Anything was better than working at the club. Well, almost anything. But she much preferred cleaning up after one spoiled rich man than a whole bunch of drunk and handsy ones. Plus the manor was huge. She could escape from one handsy rich man easily enough in a space that big.

Anything, anything to help pay off her debts. And if the hours worked out, she could still work at the club sometimes too. Two jobs would be much better than one. She doubted, too, that the Penguin would let her go so easily.

Plus she’d been in culinary school for a few months before her mother got sick. She hoped that made her application valuable enough for Bruce Wayne. She really doubted she would get the position. Applying and hoping was better than suffocating at the Iceberg Lounge most nights.

Within a day, her appointment for an interview was confirmed, much to her surprise.

The day of her interview, she dressed carefully in her best business attire, packed up an extra copy of her resume, and headed towards Wayne Enterprises.

The weather had finally dried enough for the subways to run again. She was glad, because it was starting to drizzle outside again, though the weathermen were confident it would only last into the afternoon. She had never missed the sun so much.

Wayne Enterprises was a huge, towering building. She wondered briefly why Bruce Wayne didn’t hold the interviews at Wayne Manor. He didn’t have much to do with Wayne Enterprises these days from what she heard on the news. But then again, he probably didn’t want a bunch of strangers traipsing through his empty home trying to steal a glimpse of his private life.

She gave her name to the receptionist on the ground floor to sign in. The receptionist guided her to a bank of elevators and to the third floor.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a hallway where at least another dozen people waited to be interviewed. As she took a seat in the only open space, a door at the end of the hallway opened and a girl quickly hurried out. She got into the elevator without a word and was gone.

Name after name was called. Even with appointments for interviews, y/n was surprised at the number of people here. Mostly women. She thought Bruce Wayne would have been a lot more selective off the cuff.

Some of the other women waiting whispered among themselves. Most craned their necks every time the doors opened and closed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive billionaire. Y/n listened to their idle gossip without participating. She didn’t care about Bruce Wayne. Just the job.

“Do you think he’s hiring based on looks?” one woman asked with a smirk as she tugged her low cut shirt even lower. Y/n hoped he wasn’t. Mostly because that was what guys like the Penguin did.

“I wonder how much I could get for a photo of him from TMZ,” another woman said. There was a chorus of nervous laughs. But they’d had to surrender their cell phones at the security checkpoint inside the front door, to be collected at the reception desk after their interviews.

When her name was finally called, y/n stood on shaky legs.

She entered the office to find an older man. He had salt and pepper hair, the beginnings of a beard, and was dressed immaculately. His clothes held no wrinkles or lint. He even had cufflinks at his wrists that glimmered as they caught the light.

“Have a seat,” he said in a pleasantly accented voice. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne’s butler, assistant, and longtime guardian. I’ll be conducting your interview today.”

Y/n wasn’t sure whether or not she was disappointed that Bruce Wayne wasn’t there. This guy seemed much more professional anyways, and she figured–if she got the job–she’d work with him more than Bruce Wayne. From what she understood of household staff from period dramas on TV, butlers were basically in charge of all staff. At least, she thought so. This butler was also apparently important enough to represent Bruce Wayne’s interests and conduct all interviews.

He started by telling her the job requirements, most of which required discretion, several NDA contracts, and regular hours during the week. Then he asked her all kinds of typical job interview questions, went over her resume, and asked what her expectations were for pay and benefits. He didn’t even stumble over her listed position at the Iceberg Lounge despite it’s bad reputation.

When she told him the pay she’d like to make–after having looked up several similar enough jobs online–Alfred Pennyworth smiled.

And then he countered with a much more generous offer.

“I have to say, I really think I’ve found the person for the position,” he continued, as if her heart rate wasn’t high enough already. “I’ll have to clear it with Mr. Wayne first of course, but your application seems very promising.” He smiled kindly.

“I–thank you–wow, thank you,” she stuttered. She stood and shook his hand eagerly. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Really.”

“I do have to finish the rest of the day’s interviews, but I really do think we’ve found what we need in you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow most likely, as long as Mr. Wayne is amenable.” Alfred stood and gestured to the door.

Y/n hesitated and then blurted, “Why me?” She immediately clamped her mouth shut. Heat settled in her cheeks. “I’m sorry–I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just…my resume doesn’t exactly scream prior experience.”

Alfred seemed to soften a bit. “My dear, you seem plenty qualified. And, most importantly, you’re the only one who didn’t ask after Mr. Wayne upon seeing myself. Privacy and discretion are very important to him, and so far everyone else has failed to uphold those values from the start. Or failed the background check.” He chuckled. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if the position is yours.”

She thanked him again, profusely, and walked to the elevators with her head in the clouds.

The job wasn’t hers yet, not for sure, but she couldn’t help the bubble of hope that grew in her chest. With the hours and the pay and the benefits…she would be doing so, so well. She could still work at the club one or two nights on the weekend, and her debts would be paid off in–she quickly tried to do the mental math. Two years, maybe. And that was if she found a nicer apartment to rent. If she continued living in her shitty apartment, she’d be paid up with the Penguin even sooner.

The next morning she received a call from an unknown number.

“Hello, y/n speaking,” she answered breathlessly.

“Good morning,” Alfred Pennyworth’s warm voice answered. “I’m calling to formally offer you a position working at Wayne Manor.”

Y/n clamped down a squeal of delight before it could escape. “Yes, I accept. Absolutely. I–you have no idea how much I need this job, thank you.”

“You haven’t even heard the full offer yet, dear,” Alfred said with a light laugh. “Mr. Wayne would like to not only offer you the pay we discussed yesterday, but also health benefits and…well, I understand it’s rather unusual, but he also offered one of our many guest rooms for your use. You would still work the same hours, but live on the property.”

Her jaw fell open with an audible pop. “I–That’s very generous of Mr. Wayne, but I couldn’t possibly afford–”

“Rent free, of course,” Alfred continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And it would not be deducted from your pay either. In Mr. Wayne’s words, he has too much unused space to let it go to waste. Besides, the rest of the staff live on the property as well, myself included.”

Something in the way he said it clicked in y/n’s brain. “You mean Mr. Wayne wants to keep an eye on everyone to better protect his privacy. Don’t you?” Hastily she added, “I don’t mean to be rude in saying that.”

“No, not rude at all, but perceptive. Yes, I do believe that that is Mr. Wayne’s thinking in his offer. That, and he is actually quite generous, once you get to know him. No need to accept the offer right away. You have my direct number. Please let us know by next Monday your decision, in case we need to fill the position elsewhere.”

Brain whirring a mile a minute, she said, “No. I mean, yes, I accept. When can I start?”

Rent free and not deducted from her pay. Health benefits. Regular hours. Weekends off. Living in a fucking mansion. It was almost too good to be true.

As long as Bruce Wayne didn’t turn out to be a creep, peeping Tom, or a rapist, it was exactly the life-changing thing she needed.

“I can pick you up Monday, give you time to pack and get your affairs in order. Unless you need to work out a two week notice with a previous employer?”

“No, I’m–Monday is perfect. Thank you so much.” She gave Alfred her address, then hung up.

Things were really, really starting to look up.

That weekend, she requested a meeting with the Penguin to explain her new job situation and that she wasn’t quitting, just cutting back her hours to pay her debt off more quickly.

If shit was going to hit the fan, it would be in this meeting. The Penguin wasn’t a nice guy. She knew that firsthand already. But surely, hopefully, he loved money enough to let her do this in exchange for paying him more quickly. She didn’t care if he raised her debts a little, either. Anything to get out from under his thumb more quickly.

But all the Penguin did was lean back on his plush leather couch and look her over with a smirk. “Sucked Bruce Wayne’s dick for a job, did ya? I thought you were too good for that sort of thing. Oh well, good for you. Remember that I charge three percent interest on my debts, though. And if you forget…” He glanced over at the thug who’d slapped her the night of the incident with the spilled drink and the handsy man.

Y/n clenched her teeth so tightly it hurt. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, she told herself, but she hated the idea that a rumor might spread about her working for Bruce Wayne just because the Penguin was a scumbag.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Three percent interest. Thank you for your generosity.” Because that’s what he wanted, what he liked. The ass-kissing. The gratitude. And it rang true this time, when it hadn’t so many other times they had spoken. Shit hadn’t hit the fan. He was letting her go. And, hell, three percent interest really wasn’t too bad. She could do three percent. And living at Wayne Manor, she wouldn’t have to worry about rent or subway fees or a car payment or gas prices.

Bruce Wayne definitely couldn’t be as much of a creep as the Penguin.

–

Monday morning dawned early. She had barely slept all night. Her nerves were wound tight. The rain had started up again in the early hours before dawn and showed no signs of letting up.

Y/n’s bags were packed. Her meager belongings waited patiently by the door for her move to Wayne Manor. It was a dream come true, in a lot of ways. She had resented her tiny, shitty apartment since she had been forced out of the one she had grown up in–just her and her mother, all those years. Now her mother was gone, and all that was left of their life together was packed in a small cardboard box. That box was really all that mattered. Y/n had only bothered to pack it, her clothes, and her quilt and pillow. Everything else was staying in the apartment.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

She opened it to reveal Alfred, who was startlingly dry for all of the rain roaring down from the sky outside.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning. Shall I help you with your belongings?”

She only had her backpack, two suitcases, the box of memories, and her pillow with her quilt shoved into the pillowcase.

For some reason, as Alfred helped her carry everything down the stairs and loaded it into the car outside, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by her surroundings. At her obvious lack. Had it been too desperate of her to leap at a chance to live in Bruce Wayne’s giant mansion without thinking it through? She had never been one to take handouts so readily, but in the past few years that had changed drastically. She would take whatever she could get–which was only underscored by the fact that all she’d been able to do was make a deal with a criminal to try and save her mother’s life.

Wayne Manor was just barely inside of city limits. It was close to everything while still just separate enough to scream wealthy. A huge brick wall stretched around the property. A wrought iron gate swung open to reveal a long driveway lined with trees.

As Alfred drove up the drive, he explained the security system to her. Cameras all along the walls, alarms, security guards patrolling and watching the gate. Security never came near the house except in an emergency. He also explained, gently, that she likely wouldn’t see much of the master of the house. He tended towards the nocturnal and often went out for most of the night and slept during the day. The way Alfred said it was almost affectionate, like he was used to Bruce Wayne’s antics.

The long driveway suddenly ended. A huge, Gothic manor was revealed. It sprawled across an equally massive lawn. Gargoyles sneered down at her from the edges of the roof and towers. She felt her mouth pop open in surprise. It was…well, enormous.

They pulled around to the back of the house towards what y/n guessed was the servants entrance.

“I’ve given security your information and identification. You’re free to come and go as you please, of course, but we ask that you simply alert the guards at the gate each time you leave and come back.” Alfred parked the car in a small spot near a door in the back. “Your rooms will be on the second floor. My rooms are right next to yours. Master Wayne’s are on the first floor. The kitchen, library, pool house, and stables are free for you to use whenever you would like. The basement, however, is completely off limits. There is a code to enter, but I figured I would warn you. It’s Master Wayne’s private study and he doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

They entered through the backdoor into a storage room. It led into a kitchen that was, by itself, larger than the shitty apartment she’d just left behind.

“We’ll pause here for some paperwork, if you don’t mind. Then I’ll take your things upstairs for you to get settled.” Waiting on the kitchen island was a stack of paperwork that included the typical employee and tax forms, health benefit contracts, and also a thick stack of contracts that included heavily binding NDAs. She tried to take a moment and look it all over like it didn’t overwhelm her. From what she gathered, she was allowed to say she worked at Wayne Manor, but not in what capacity. She wasn’t allowed to mention Bruce Wayne, his comings and goings, or anything else about the house to anyone other than Bruce Wayne himself and Alfred. Taking any kind of photographs of the house, grounds, or the occupants was entirely forbidden. If she broke the contract, she would be immediately fired and sued.

Head swimming, she signed all the forms. Alfred made tea while she signed paper after paper. She preferred coffee but she would take whatever caffeine she could get to help her through the huge stack of forms.

By the time she finished, the dregs in her cup had gone cold.

“Now that’s done, let’s get you settled,” Alfred said as if it were simply any other regular day. Y/n supposed that, working for a billionaire, it probably was.

As they made their way up a servant’s staircase, Alfred’s soft, accented voice kept up the narration from their drive. “I would also ask you not to disturb the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne’s rooms on the third floor. They have been…kept the same since their passing.”

“Of course,” she murmured. Obviously, her curiosity was piqued at the mention of forbidden rooms–including the basement–but she needed this job more than she needed to satisfy her curiosity.

The house itself was more of a Gothic castle or Gothic church than it was a house. Intricate stone and woodwork was everywhere, from the arched ceilings and moulding to the carved banisters on the servants stair. The stairs kept winding upwards, but they took the first landing and came out at the very end of a long hallway. There was a stained glass window that overlooked the estate below them.

“You’ll have the rest of the day to get settled and explore, if you’d like. You’ll officially start tomorrow morning. This first door here belongs to me. And…here you are.”

Alfred stopped at the next door on the hallway.

“I’ll leave you to get settled. Text me if there’s anything you need.” He set her stuff politely beside the closed door. “Oh–we all fend for ourselves with meals. The kitchen is fully stocked, so help yourself.” With that, Alfred disappeared back down the stairs to do…whatever it is he did as butler.

Pushing open the door to her room, y/n swallowed her apprehension.

She had to use the doorjamb to hold herself up when she saw what was before her.

When Alfred has used the plural of room, he hadn’t made a mistake. There was a small living room, a huge bathroom, a bedroom, and a walk-in closet. It was the size of at least two, if not three, of her apartments. It had been recently cleaned, though the furniture was a bit outdated. There was a thick comforter and set of pillows on the bed that looked to be the most updated things in the room. It was a muted gray with blue and green accents.

There was a small couch, a sitting chair, a desk, a fireplace….Her head spun. This alone was such luxury compared to what she had just come from. And she had the run of the house when she wasn’t working, save for a few off-limits areas. Kitchen, library, grounds, pool house…

Taking a deep breath, y/n began unpacking her things. Her clothes barely took up a quarter of the closet.

She set her photographs on the dresser and bedside table. One of her as a baby with her mother–still glowing with youth and young love. Another of them when she was a teenager, at one of Gotham’s music festivals. Another taken when her mother was sick, the last photograph of them together. Around the photos went other various sentimental items.

Already she could tell that the house was gloomy and barely lived in. There was a pervading smell of dust in the air. She flung open the heavy drapes in the bedroom and living room. With a satisfied nod, she resolved to open more curtains in the house. Maybe bring in some fresh flowers once in a while. Alfred had told her that the gardener and groundskeeper–a married couple–lived in a cottage farther into the property. Maybe she could ask one of them for permission to bring flowers inside sometimes so she didn’t have to buy them.

It would take some getting used to. But she would work hard. She would save money. She would pay off her debts. And then Wayne Manor would just be something in the rearview for her on the way to something better.

It wasn’t a Cinderella story, but it was a good stepping stone into the rest of her life.

Next Chapter

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