#but when the parts came in they're made of heavy wood

[54prowl]

going into adulthood, I made a list of things I will not buy for cheap solely for quality of life. something as simple as the quality of paper towels or the softness of your sheets can make or break you.

go get yourself that expensive AND better quality thing.

#re:previous reblogs #ooc #like?? I recently bought wooden dining stools #much more expensive than if i bought ikea #but when the parts came in they're made of heavy wood #and they look so nice with our wooden table #it's worth it #i also gamified my house like #QOL task: general chores #side quests: small diy thing or a trinket i wanna buy #main quest: big purchases #etc #mix and match as needed #i do this too for career stuff like main quest: personal works and irl job; side quest: comms; qol: fun doodles and studies

[rottweiler1]

❝𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝.❞

pairing: 141 x male!reader and maybe some los vaqueros + others

summary: the 141 needed a helping hand to protect the world, only 4 wasn't enough. they decided for a interesting 5th member. and seemingly, the 141's other allies were also intrigued.

word count: 962 (i told u so!!)

cw: violence, normal cod gore, angst, poorly translated scottish from google,

update: enemy dynamics (ghost and dino), some flustered soap + gaz + ghost

A/N: more information is that i might just pose 1 time a day or 2 times a day or none at all, really. i have a lot of drafts saved for this series but its only up to part 1 part 2 and part 3, enjoy though! -rottweiler

2/?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The boys stared up at the man with adornment, amazement, and.. annoyed. Simon was the one annoyed at this point, who was this man taking away his title of the Cold, Dark stoned man who could crack your skull in a bliss? Well a man who encountered Dino before and beated him in almost a bunch of combat when still in selection with Dino. Gaz and soap looked at each other and ran to the tall man, shouting out questions and.. some curious touching. 2 men were childish enough to do this.  Price stared and sighed heavily, watching them do so.

"HOW THA' FUCK YOU GETTING THEM SO VEINY, BONNIE? Please tell me your protein shake recipe." Soap said as he was touching your arms, you were veiny and bulky.. it only made him more motivated but who knows he's gonna slouch down on the couch later on eating the cafeteria sandwich. Gaz then stared over at your dinosaur spikes from behind, admiringly touching them. "How'd you get the higher ups customize sharp looking spikes, Dino?"

The spikes were a pretty yellow, it shined down from the light. Dino stood there like some kinda statue, some kinda toy for 2 men to play with. He'd glanced over at Simon, feeling cold ice eyes staring at him. LT. Simon 'ghost' Riley. The man he fought before in selection. Price then yelled. "STOP TOUCHIN' HIM LIKE THAT SOAP." Soap then rolled his eyes at price. Soap then took out his hand for dino to shake before spatting out: "Let's fight off them fucke's ye Dino?" Soap said with a grin. Dino looks down at the Scott, shaking his hand with his big veiny hands.

Gaz then stared before saying. "Gaz, pleasure to meet you Dino." Gaz reached out his hand as well. Dino pulled away from Soap and into the palm of Kyle. Dino then spat out in a voice they never thought he had. (If you don't have one, ignore.) He had an accent and his gruff voice, it was deep.. just like Simons. Dino then spat out. "You too, new teammates." Soap and Gaz were jaw dropped.

Gaz and Soap got a bit flustered.. I mean the tone of the voice was hella attractive, no? Ghost stared deeply at Dino. If not, under his balaclava, slight tone of his cheeks were rosy pink. Price then stepped up before saying. "Alright everyone, sit your asses down on the chair." Ghost grunted when he sat down, Soap was a bit energetic when sitting down. Gaz just sat down normally. But for Dino..

The chair came on to a big creak heard in the room. The noise came from Dinos chair with some slight scratching due to his spikes on the back, scratching the wood of the back chair. Price then cleared his throat loudly.. He can admit, Dino must be pretty heavy. "As you all know we go' those terrorists on our asses. Now we failed to capture and turn in Tha' fucker." Price said, holding a map before spreading it out on the table. Glaring up at his teammates.

"Laswell found some Intel that they moved up to Toronto America." He said before pinning down a knife on the map on the table. "And this is the warehouse where they stash their guns, and maybe planning to shoot up america if they want to." Price said gruffily, staring at his teammates before Ghost spoke up. "So what do you think they're planning." Soap then said. "Probably wanting to snap off our necks after we turned off Tha' time bomb." Gaz spoke up. "I got some phone that was ringing over one of the soldiers they were talking about wanting to set chemicals into the sea and maybe shot up Toronto after one of Saudi arabia's city was raided."

All of them looked at each other then glanced at Dino. Ghost frowned, he was probably thinking that dino would say some wolfhunt (that one term for dogpiss) idea. Dino then said. "Your all fucking missing the key." Dino took out the knife that was stabbed through the map and wood. Stabbing towards Mexico. "Laswell gave me information on the mission through the phone the key is to get towards Mexico first. If America was wanting them in, they would get suspicious. Big crates and crates unknown to the USA would get them ratted out when investigated."

Price, Gaz and Soap were amazed at Dinos explanation, Ghost grunted and crossed his arms. Sending daggers towards Dino. He didn't trust dino, and dino thought it was funny for The Simon Riley to get jealous over him. Dino smirked at Ghost underneath his sharp teeth designed mask. "It would make sense to get to Mexico first before going over to the US. As far as we know USA has extra security over the docks."

"Meaning they are slowly filling out the stash in America without anyone knowing. Possibly underground, no signal since the police can track internet." Dino briefly said. "What? It's a fucking guess." Dino grinned at Ghost.. better then fuckin' Everything. Gaz and Soap showered him with compliments, Ghost himself growled.. fucking asshole. Enemies from first glance, already enemies through selection.

Price stood their with a smile, patting on Dinos shoulder. "you are great, soldier." Dino glanced towards John with a slight nod, side eyeing Simon. Simon kept glaring like it meant he was intimidating but You just shrugged with daggers back at Simon underneath the eyes of yours. Soap whispered to price. "Cap', you see that? Seems like Ghost and Dino go' a bit of riva'ry." Gaz then crossed his arms.. wondering if Dino was paying attention. Gaz looked to where Dino was staring.. and boy was he surprised. A rivalry through first meet, they thought.

Price nodded with Soap, agreeing. But they need Simon to cooperate if he wanted to save the world. Simon then spoke out. "Very Einstein, aren't you." He spoke with a growl. Dino then shrugged again, turning around to leave with a grin underneath the mask, he himself had sharp teeth. Born with it. Simon looked away with annoyance.

Soap and Price were talking down the hall, Gaz was instructed to show Dino his room and Ghost was busy eating lunch, swinging by the cafeteria. At least he got some tea when swinging by. Gaz spoke. "Here's your room, it isn't much but it is a room. You could decorate in here."

Dino dropped his bags like a piece of paper, it was heavy as fuck but lightweight towards the large man. Dino then nodded. "Thank you, Gaz." Dino glanced at Gaz before pulling down his mask, grinning at Gaz with sharp teeth. Gaz felt knocked out.. your teeth were sharp.. and even so clean? Gaz awkwardly smiled back and leaving, he couldn't help but get flustered by the man's charm.

Dino was enthralled with this show, stealing the 141s attention from Simon like taking candy from a baby. Dino does not like his enemies. When they roar at him, he roars back but this is the teasing type of roar towards Simon. Enemies.. could turn into more, who knows?

Dino hung up some posters on his wall, only like.. 2. Dino then took his towel and walked down the hall to get over to the shower room. By the time he got there the 141 was showering. It was normal anyways. Dino then slowly took off his shirt. Soap peeked a glance at Dino and holy fuck was he in heaven. The man had a slutty waist like Simons, and abs that were worked out and trained through with scars. Battle scars.

Simon gave a side eye towards Dino before glancing at his body, peeking through since he didn't have a balaclava. Soap and Simon went back to washing to respect each others privacy, but fully well enough of how sharp eyed the Dinosaur is, He knew they peeked at him. Dino got into the shower cubicle, showering himself before Price then said in his usual gruff tone.

"Right, stand by for deployment. We're gonna meet some old pals of ours by Mexico in Las Almas, Dino." Soap then perked up before grinning.. Gaz then smiled as he brushed back his hair to continue showering, Ghost had a balaclava on and a towel around his waist, knowing full well who those old pals were. Dino glanced at price with a eyebrow raise.. Who was the cap talking about?

Dino was going to meet the Los Vaqueros.

#cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw2 #las almas #mexico #los vaqueros #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #gaz kyle garrick #john price #call of duty x reader #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #male reader #dinosaur #dino

[overtaken-stream]

This whole part is just King going, "My favorite color is dark, like my soul." also, this gif is so hot omfg I can't with him, I have a smut idea for him, and if I do, somehow wrap my head around it, I'll post it here and on ao3.

Yandere!King The Wildfire x reader Pt2.

It was a hasty decision, done in reaction he is unsure what to call, hardy he could handle himself when in your vicinity, it was a feeling of something intruding someplace it had no business being.

Similar to you in this situation.

His room was devoid of human touch, obviously because he barely used it, postponing his sleep until the flames on his back would collapse in on themselves, and he felt the consequences every time. It complemented his suit and the general aura he tries to surround himself with when dealing with Kaidou's henchmen, dark and containing no distractions. One specially made bed with dark covers, straightened against the wooden walls, on the other side was a wardrobe that seemed giant to a normal-sized human; unlike others, it was decorated and carefully carved, leaves, waves, ships, eyes, and unseen mysterious symbols were embedded into the burnt wood.

``It's an interesting texture.`` He remembers thinking, though he can no longer put his finger on how he got it in the first place.

And yet, in the grim surroundings, there was a light his flames could never compare to; warmth, no matter how hard he tries, will never radiate from him. It was similar to that dark house where he first laid his eyes upon you. You who have not changed nor moved on from that moment, you who trembles and shakes, cry and call out for help, insult him, and corner yourself in a place where you feel defended.

He has been in your shoes before, a long time ago, he can't be sure.

Perhaps the understanding is the cause of his heavy heart, taken away from home in such a way... He can feel his throat close up as your hunched figure shines in his view. Grime stuck itself onto your limbs, knees, and hands decorated with splinters of all sizes, hair matted and filthy from ash and smoke, and its smell follows him in his showers as he allows himself to let free of his suit. It's so recognizable.

And if his heart clenched everytime he saw you in this horrible position, nobody had to know. Not even him, it was a can of worms King won't dare to touch.

He remembers bits of information about his race, long lost to time and humanity, the whispers that came in the form of dreams speckled across his mind and reflections; the delusions and validity are mixed within his remembrances, the real and fake are smelting into and out of each other, his past is forgotten even by him, the lineage of mighty warriors feared by all is smeared across the walls with mud and blood mixed with heartfelt feelings.

In a memory long before the laboratory, his tiny ears picked up information, a word that defines and tames a feeling of awe he is experiencing—a SoulMate.

Lost words from his Ma that he was too young to understand finally make sense, a connection of minds, unconditional love, and a total understanding of each other. It's about being oneself and knowing others, a SoulMate is following and understanding One's thoughts, but They're right there with the One, side by side. Completing the soul and tying the Lunarian instincts of animals into a pretty bowtie. A Soul and a Mate.

Love at first sight doesn't exist because even if King has not experienced it before, he is not fooled by others' thinking, Love dependent on sight is lust.

But he didn't see you first, did he? He felt you.

Kaidou is not obligated to put up with a civilian within his chambers, under his roof, where the empire buzzes with insignificant life, but it has been hours after they departed from your home island, now a kingdom of ash and debris, a few hours he has spent watching you with motionless crimson eyes.

The monster gets up from the throne, the squicking of leather alerting you of his movement, forcing you to turn towards him; the last time he made any move was when he sat down on the chair you can't quite make out in the dim moonlighting, your quivers, and sniffles fade out as he gets further away from you, his broad back is turned.

It's time he explained himself.

The cold yet quiet air is disturbed when he lights up the flames on his back, coloring this room in warm shades.

Your swollen eyes and snot-filled nose could only gasp for air as he slowly turned his face back to you.

``I'll come back.`` he slams the heavy door shut.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, the disgusting dirt of your suffering sticks onto your skin, seeps through the crack, and marks the invisible scars into your psyche.

You wished, for the first time, that a promise would be broken.

``tsk...`` the angry and tear-stained eyes turn away from the door.

Left unchecked, fear turns into irritation, irritation into anger.

Balled fists shake, out of fear, out of anger.

#.my writing. #anime #one piece #king one piece #king the wildfire #one piece x reader #king the wildfire x reader #yandere character #yandere x reader #king the conflagration #Yandere!King AU #yandere x you #yandere x y/n

[soggyriceee]

Uhm— I'm new around here so hello!!

Can I request for König? Can't get enough of him really—

Anyway, straight to the point.

So, basically. König and Reader had a mission together yada yada, then it's done— they go back but König realizes that Reader, uh sadly, was left behind and noone saw them—curse the shortness ong—and yaeh.

This can be either oneshot or HCS! You an also adjust this request to your liking jsjss

Thank you and have a good morning/afternoon/evening!

lost and found | Konig

hi anon, thank you for your request! I wasn't too sure if you wanted to go nsfw with this or kinda like a fluff/angst so I can def do a part two nsfw if you'd like hehehe. not proof read!

"Konig.. its kinda hot. im tired." you mumbled behind him, dragging your feet through the mud and dirt of the forrest. "keep up maus.. were almost to the safe house." he said softly, turning his head back slightly to give you a small smile. you sighed, nodding your head slowly.

you and your team had just come back from one of the most physically challenging missions you've had yet. some of the enemies men had planted multiple bombs scattered throughout the forrest, some close to civilization, some not. you all had spent the day finding them and defusing them. hopefully all of them. it was surely a scary mission, not knowing exactly how many bombs there were planted. but given the round area of where they were, it definetly did help.

but that didnt mean you weren't any less tired. being the shortest one there, your legs got tired and gave out easily. so much so, people often realized when you were present or missing. Konig had loved that though, how small you were. its one of the reasons you've become one of the best operators on this task force. your insecurity became a strong suit. but this insecurity often got in the way of your ability to keep up.

your ankles and legs were cramping bad, and you couldnt take another steep muddy hill. without realizing you began to slow down. you tried to call out to the team, but they were already much more ahead. "eh, I know what safe house they're going to." you said to yourself. finding a tree stump, with as little moss as possible, you sat down, grabbing your ankle in hand. you threw your boot off, sighing at the release. "god this feels so much better" you sighed, closing your eyes.

your hands worked on your ankles, relieving as much stress and tension as you could before getting back up. of course you thought Konig would be mad knowing you didnt stick with the group, but your safety and well being comes first. he was the one who told you so anyways.

standing from the stump, you stretched your back out, grabbed your gun that you had rested behind you and made your way back towards where they were walking. Konig was right in it wasn't taking too long to get to the safe house. maybe another 5 or so minuets walking.

there it was, the dark green brick house. no lights came from the inside, the door was closed. as you got closer you actually began to realize nobody was inside. tilting your head, you walked over to the heavy wood door, pushing it open. as expected, you were greeted with nothing. " what the fuck.." where could they have gone? this was the closest safe house, the one you all went to for each mission.

grabbing your walkie from your back pocket, you began to radio the team. "konig do you copy?" static from the other side. "konig do you copy?" you asked again, voice more firm. but again, radio static. thats when the panic began to kick in. where could they have gone? there wasn't many safe houses you knew of in this forrest, maybe it was new? you mentally cursed yourself for this, but began to relax. Konig would come looking for you. you knew he would. but how long will you be alone before he comes? what if you get attacked?

you grabbed your gun, opening up the mags. 2 left. it wasn't horrible, it was unlikely even if you were to get attacked. but there was nothing such as impossible, at least thats what you believed.

looking around the safe house, you quickly began to realize there wasn't a lot in here for survival. walking over to the sink, you pulled on the lever. brownish water came out. so that was no longer an option. food was limited but available. what were you expecting? just by the look on the outside of the house you could tell this house was old, probably way before even Konig became apart of this team.

you grabbed one of the bags of chips and made your way to the surprisingly not moldy couch, grabbing one of the magazines from the glass table. " Hot Topics of 1999".

yea, this was an old ass house.

~~

Konig searched high and low for you in the large house. he hadn't realized her loss in presence until they all grouped up in the large living room. of course he didnt panic at first, believing you had just fallen asleep in one of the rooms since you were complaining about your body hurting earlier. but when 3 hours had passed and everyone else was up, eating dinner, he grew more than worried. he grew anxious.

he jogged up the stairs of the house, searching every single room twice, then three times. you simply were not there. Konig was not one for showing emotions, but this time he couldn't stop his chest from rising and falling fast, his breath catching in his throat each time.

grabbing the dresser, he bent over it, trying his hardest to calm down. "she's not dead, she's not dead." he said to himself. but how could he prove that. you'd been alone for hours at this point, and as the leader of this team, he felt like he failed you. he felt like he failed your relationship.

of course, he knew you'd disagree with him immediately, but he wouldn't allow it. his job as a leader and boyfriend was to keep you safe and protected. he had promised you the night he pulled you into his room, kissing you without giving you the moment to think. " im never gonna let anything happen to you.. ever." he said softly. and now, look.

that anxiety turned into a mix of anger as well. he lifted his head, wiping his teary eyes and making his way back downstairs. " im going to look for our Lieutenant. stay put dont leave this house unless the rescue team comes. am I understood?" he spoke into the room, cutting off everyones conversations. they all nodded, watching Konig grab his night vision goggles, weapons and some food, shoving it into his backpack. " do you need help sir?" one of the men asked. but Konig just walked out the house, ignoring anyones offer for help. he wanted to save you, keep you protected. that was his job.

~~

night fell and you slowly began to loose hope. rescue teams always come the morning after and it was sun down at this point. sleep was something you did not get, your own anxiety keeping you up. you kept calling on the radio but got no response from anyone. how far could they even be? its impossible they've already left without you, right?

for the first time in a while, you began to cry. you were a touch person, inside and out. emotion was something you didnt show too often, another reason you were such a good member of this team. but the thought of being left alone in a forrest, a country you aren't the most familiar with. it worried you. it worried you more that you'd never see Konig again.

thats when you decided to get off you ass and stop waiting to be saved. you'd find your way to them, one way or another. you began to search the house for real now, hoping to find any ammo possible. you found more shotgun ammo than assault rifle. figures. but you lucked out in finding one mag in the bathroom.

suiting up, grabbing the rest of what snacks were left, you made your way out into the forrest. you looked around, trying to figure out which direction they could be in. but honestly you had no idea. it was dark, the flashlight clipped to your gear was a tiny one, only able to light up a small path. who knows what you could run into? or who?

but you were determined to find your people and get home. get home to Konig and never let him go. you began to walk, looking behind you, clutching your gun to your chest. the grenades and smoke bombs would only bring more attention to you, but you brought them anyways. just in case.

~~

you felt like you'd been walking for hours in a straight line, no turning, no going back. and you had yet to encounter any weird sounds, movements or figures. until of course you saw a mini fire, no tent or person. just a fire.

at first you thought it was a good idea to go and see if there was any food, water or even just a person to help you. but then you remembered your safety training. ' never, I mean NEVER, approach a random fire in the woods if lost. you dont know if it could be us, a trap from the enemy or a crazy person. its better to play it safe and seek shelter elsewhere." you'd remember Konig telling you, only you in fact. it was wrong, but he would tell the others to take the more dangerous route in situations like this. but with you, he didnt. he always 'played it safe' with you. and at first you didnt take offense. but, when he pulled you onto his lap, he smiled, saying ' I give you the safest route because id rather pick up your living body than your dead one, meine liebe." he whispered, eyes darting across your face.

and so you made the choice to keep walking, not looking back to see who it could possibly be, hoping to soon find your team and the warehouse they were in.

~~

Konig hadn't heard the footsteps at first, his head pressed against the tree stump. he was dozing off, so tired from his hours or looking for you. but just when the footsteps began to disappear, he woke up. he rubbed his eyes quickly, scanning the dark forrest. the fire helped illuminate the space around him just enough to get to see a small figure and a dim light walking away from his little camp. he knew it was a dangerous move making a fire, but he did anything he could to help you find him.

and so, without even thinking, he took the fire out, grabbed his gun and gear, following after the figure and hoping his night vision goggled would help him. he hadn't the perfect eyesight, but he was able to see exactly where the figure was going with the help of the slowly dying night light. that had to be you, who else could it be. and he knew yelling your name would not only draw attention to him, but it could scare you. you could run off in the opposite direction, once again loosing him.

so, as quickly and quietly as he could, he began to jog. he pressed his gun to his chest to stop the rustling of it, trying his hardest to jump over any tree branches large or small. he was so determined to see you. he had no clock on him, but he could assume it was late late in the night, maybe even early morning. you'd been alone for hours and hours on end and he couldnt help but tear up when he thought about pulling you into his arms, holding you and never letting you go.

but he was so caught up in the fantasy, he hadn't realized this figure had stopped. when he did realize it, he stopped immediately, freezing on the spot. he didnt want to charge the person, mainly because he didnt want to get shot. so he watched as they turned around and he realized it was you.

~~

you heard shuffling behind you, only getting closer and faster. your heart began to pump in your chest and you immediately felt sick. you were a trained military lieutenant for crying out loud. but, forrest was rarely something you needed to deal with. never a situation where you got lost alone in the dark forrest either.

so you stopped, the shuffling stopping soon after. gripping the muzzle of your gun, as well as the trigger, you turn, holding it up. you tried to put on a brave face, but the tears of fear did not hesitate to make their presence known. your chest was rapidly moving up and down, your heart going 100 miles per hour. you had no intention of shooting anyone or anything, but in order to keep yourself safe you had to.

"w-who is there" you whispered out, hoping to get a persons voice rather than an animals voice. " liebe.." a voice whispered back. you swallowed, shaking your head. that wasnt Konig. you were truly going crazy now. he'd been at the new safe house, not even realizing you were gone yet. he wouldn't come back just to look for you.. right?

but when a gun was thrown in front of your feet, accompanied by a knife and pistol, you looked up into the dark. " its me.. please tell me your okay" it was Konig. his accent was hard to miss, let alone the nickname. it was him, and for the first time in the last 12 or so hours you've been alone, you'd felt the safest you'd ever felt.

~~ he tossed his gun over, along with a pistol and knife. he'd do anything for you to know it was him. and he'd do anything to get you in his arms again. " its me.. please tell me your okay." it was silent for a bit before hushed cried came from in front of him. he pushed his night vision goggled off of his head before running over to you, pulling you into his chest.

your arms immediately wrapped around his figure, your sobs muffled into his chest. " im here now liebe.. im here. ill never let you out of my sight again." he whispered, his arms hugging around your head, pressing you deeper into his chest.

~~ Konig and you never separated the following morning. you both decided to keep pushing forward as the safe house was only another mile and a half straight. " I shouldn't have stopped. im so sorry" you said into his neck, still wiping away the tears of happiness and just worry. Konig had refused to let you walk anymore, saying ' you've done enough walking. let me take care of you."

" no liebe. i should've listened to you and stopped. im so sorry we lost you. the old safe house was one we'd been directed not to use since there wasn't much in there. thats why I brought you those." he said nodding down to your hands. in them, was a sandwich he took from the house. and he refused to let you share any with him. " there will be more for me at the house. I hope. you need to eat more than anything." he said, turning his head away from the sandwich anytime you offered.

" please.. it'll make up for loosing me in the forrest." you smiled, batting your lashes up at him. this earned a chuckle from him, a slight head shake following. " how about I make it up to you some other way, hm? for now, enjoy that for yourself." he said, winking down at you.

a blush covered your face, your head hiding in his neck once more. he chuckled at your reaction, pressing a kiss to your forehead. " I love you, liebe. so much. ill never loose you again." he said, looking forward. the warehouse was coming into view now, the large plot of land lit up by the house lights. it was kinda a dangerous, risky place to have a safe house, you began to think. but then again, you all were miles and miles into a random forrest, who would really find you?

the sky turned a dark blue, birds chirping in the trees. you assumed it was maybe 4 in the morning now, yawning at the thought of it being so early. " we're almost there maus. then we can sleep together." he smiled, another kiss pressing to your temple.

and he kept to his word. when you both got inside, your team was all waiting anxiously in the living room. " captain! we were so fucking worried, we were all about to go and look for you both." one said, running up to greet you both, the others following. you smiled at them all, loving how attentive they were of you both. " are you hurt? or hungry? we can make you both some food." another called out, handing you both two water bottles.

" thank you guys but we're fine. we all need to sleep, the team will be here in about 3 hours." Konig said, patting the back of one of the men. you hadn't realized it, but your shoes were covered in mud, and you could only assume how dirty your body was. groaning, you looked up into Konig. " I feel gross so im gonna go shower first." you said, handing him the cold water bottle. he nodded, smiling down at you. "okay maus. ill be up shortly."

that shower was one of the best you'd had. the feeling of safeness and warmth from the water. knowing Konig was right downstairs. knowing your team was downstairs. you felt like you were being dramatic, and a bit cliche, but you hadn't felt more grateful for a group of people in your life. not more than this moment right now.

you were so caught up in thought, you completely missed Konig slipping into the shower behind you. "oh you scared me!" you gasped, slapping his chest. but he just looked down at you, his eyes staring deep into yours. it sort of scared you, considering it was a look he'd never really given you unless you were in trouble. " k-koni?" you whispered, waving your hand in front of his face. but he only moved closer to you, trapping your body against the wall. his hand rested beside your head, the other beside your waist. " i.. cant stop thinking about losing you." he said, his eyes drifting down.

"Koni it was an accident. what matters is im here now and safe. we can all-" "no. I failed, as a leader. as your boyfriend as your guard as- as.. I just failed you." he said, shaking his head angrily. and it was kinda cute, seeing him so worried about you. so protective over you. " Koni you also just saved me.." you said, your hand reaching up to his face. but he shook his head, looking back into your eyes. " maus please.. let me show you how sorry I am."

| agh so slay, I hope this was good! like I said if you doo want another part with smut lmk bc I will write that for sure. but this was cute and I liked it a lot, THANK YOU ANON FOR YOUR REQUEST <33

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader

[oneforthemunny]

Omg that cowboy!eddie angst!! Now we need a makeup blurb (only if you feel inclined)

I've let you suffer long enough (24 hours) I will be merciful just this once (I can not stand that they're sad either so this is mainly for me lmao) this is the og blurb that is angsty

The knock on your door came two days later. Long enough that your tears had dried, but eyes still puffy. You didn't expect to see him there; band tee tucked into his wranglers loosely, under his buckle. He wore his nice boots, you noted. The ones he wore when he took you out, not his work ones.

Eddie was leaning against the door, his own dark bags under his eyes that even in his shaded profile from his hat, you could see clearly. He hadn't slept much either.

"Can we talk?" Eddie rasped, eyes rounding softly when they met yours. "Please?"

You relented letting him in to your tiny town house. It felt weird staying here for the last few nights. You'd nearly moved to the ranch after the first month of dating. Eddie had begged you to not renew your lease next month, come stay with him instead, you were there so much anyways.

You sat across from him, your dining room table that he'd helped you fix when the leg got loose. Eddie's knee bounced, nervous and overwhelmed. You looked at him, arms crossed over your chest. You were angry, of course you were. Hurt and angry and overwhelmed still.

"I'm sorry." Eddie said, fingers tracing the pattern of the wood, but his eyes stayed on you. "I-I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" You raised a brow, swallowing back the familiar burn of tears. "For what part?"

Eddie flinched at your tone. He knew he deserved it but it still hurt. "All of it, baby." Eddie sighed lowly, defeated and a little sad. It made your heart lurch. "I just... I didn't think that you'd be jeal- mad about Lola."

"Why wouldn't I be?" You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. "Seriously, Ed, she was all over you!"

Eddie took a deep breath, regulating and calming. "Because," He sighed, knee bouncing a little harder. "I don't like Lola like that. I don't give a shit about her or-or really anyone else for that matter, honey. They're not you, and I only care about you."

Your lip wobbled, tears pricking the back of your eyes. You thought you'd ran out of tears, surely, after crying yourself to sleep the night you left and most of the day yesterday. "She was all over you, Ed." You pouted, voice wobbling around the words. "She was in my seat when I got back, and she was all over you, and you were letting her."

"I know." Eddie sighed slowly. "And I'm sorry, baby, I really am. I just... My mind wasn't on her like that, and-and I shouldn't have gotten mad that you were upset, because honestly? If that was some guy talkin' to you like that and sittin' in my seat... I'd be pretty pissed off too."

Your lips curled lightly, trying to hide your warm, smug grin. Eddie caught it anyways, moving to make his way around the table, crouching next to your chair. "'m sorry, honey." He muttered, hands rubbing up and down the soft fabric of your pajama pants. "I'm real sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Your lip wobbled. "For being so... jealous." You muttered, blushing at the admission. You felt silly, really. A little juvenile for getting so worked up.

Eddie shook his head, a small smile that had his dimples creasing gently. "Don't be sorry." He muttered, cupping your cheek. "Didn't do nothing wrong, baby."

"But I did." You whimpered, lip wobbling. "I shouldn't have been so mean, and-and I'm not like that usually. I don't want you to think I'm like a controlling bitch, I just-"

"Hey, easy, darlin'." Eddie cooed, thumb gliding over your cheek bone. "I know, alright? Let's just put it to rest. I don't wanna fight anymore."

"Me either." You sighed, heavy but relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. "I missed you."

"I missed you." Eddie muttered, pulling you closer to him. "Sleep like shit when you're not with me, you know that?" He hummed.

You nodded, your lips barely brushing his before his mouth enveloped yours fully, kissing you hard and slow. Hands roaming each others, feet shuffling and scuffing the floor all the way back to your bedroom. Eddie collapsed on top of you gently, the bed groaning with the squeak of the springs, his hands under your shirt, his boots back under your bed.

#vivisblurbgame #oneforthemunny #munnytalks #cowboy!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie

[jacesbeloved]

amidst the waves

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn’t a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings/notes: light mentions of blood, head injury, luke being a sweet boi, wrote this on a whim

part: I, II, III

The sea had been much nicer.

You had finished your daily arrangements, just getting back to your small hut after traveling to the market with your brother to sell the fish you caught just earlier to the vendors. Dropping the pouch with small amount of silver coins on the wooden table.

The smell of fish reeked inside of the small hut, your siblings planting themselves on the floor while your mother scolded you three. Telling you to shower and get rid of the fishy smell.

You chuckled lightly at her furious look when your younger siblings ignored her. You kiss her on the cheek before leaving the hut, and she complains about your odor once more.

The skies were clearer than usual, with no frightening or thundering grey clouds over the shore. It was one of those occurrences where the gods blessed you with pleasant weather for fishing and enjoying the sun at the bay. Because of it, showering was easier since the covers weren't flying and being blown away by the wind.

"Did mother and father just leave?" You inquire as you enter your hut. Alaine, your younger sister, shrugged. Continuing on sharpening a random stick of wood for spearing. "It's been quite some time, I think-" When Arrel, the youngest, speaks to answer, the sounds of horses neighing cut him off.

"Stay here." You pull them away from the open windows and into a room near the small kitchen.

You slowly peered out the window; horses and men in armor were standing outside of the hut. A harsh knock on the door startles you. "Is there someone here?"

The force of the knock somehow scares you that the man might break down your door, so you open it. A tall man covered in silver armor with various illustrations on his chest plate stood outside, a number of knights behind him.

Your eyebrows furrowed. What could have been their business here?

"Is there something wrong?" You ask politely.

The man in front of you cranes his neck to look behind you; your two siblings can be seen peering through the doorway of the room they were hiding in.

"May we come in?" Before you even get to reply, the guards have already welcomed themselves in. Five guards were going inside of your house as you looked at them with confusion. Your family has been an upright family, not disobeying your lords, not being selfish about your daily gains in the market. There couldn't have possibly been a law that your family broke that made the guards raid your house.

They looked around your house, touching things they shouldn't even be touching. Your questions were left unanswered as they ignored you.

"That- That's my siblings. They're children. What is the issue!? You cannot just barge into our home and not tell us why!" You say it loudly when they start pulling your siblings out of the room and to the open area. The guards looked at you with their eyebrows raised. Surprised, you actually got the balls to raise your voice at them.

"Has there been a young man that came from the shore? Perhaps, swam to here?" The head of the guards asks. "Not that tall, brown hair, porcelain skin." He further elaborates.

You swiftly shake your head, telling them that you're more than positive that there hasn't been a man from the shore. Your family didn't even have neighbors. How could a man swim to the shoreline without you knowing?

He nods at you, re-gripping the butt of his sword. "Very well." One jerk of his head and the guards inside of your home leave your hut. You ran after them to ask questions about what exactly was happening and what they wanted.

The guard laughs at your demand, handing you a heavy pouch. "For your troubles."

Your forehead creased even further. You wanted answers, they gave you gold. "Sister, what's in it?" Your siblings asked enthusiastically, running to your hand.

You sighed heavily, handing them the heavy pouch before closing the door, checking to make sure that the guards had already left. They squealed loudly upon pouring the content of the pouch out. Numerous golden coins spilled out of it. Their small hands held as many gold coins as they could while you rubbed your temple.

The coin shone between your fingers, the familiar embossed image of King Jahaerys on the front of the coin.

"Y/N!" You shot up. The voice was familiar. It's your father.

You immediately snapped to your siblings, grabbing the coins and placing them in the pouch before handing them to them. "Stay in the room, will you? Take the coins."

The worst possible situation was in your mind, your father rowing in your injured mother, or even the other way around. Or could it be possible that both of them are injured? All of these thoughts were far from what was incoming.

Both your mother and father were rowing in as fast as they could, a small body seemingly also inside the small wooden boat.

"Gods be good, we saw him swimming in the middle of the sea!" Your mother exclaims, her brow furrowed in concern, as you assist them in removing a man your age from the boat. Your father grunted heavily as he desperately tried to check the man's body, doing what he does whenever one of you almost drowns while swimming. Hands expertly pumping his chest.

As you watch your parents grow worried at the man's blue tone, an image suddenly flashes in your mind.

"Not that tall, brown hair, porcelain skin,"

His body jerks up. You three jumped a bit at him. He coughs, water coming out of his mouth as he couldn't even raise his body. Your father helped him by turning his head to the right to stop him from choking on the water in his mouth.

You turn the man's body to the side, grunting loudly because of the heavy leather he wore. You hit his back firmly to help him cough out the water.

"Boy, can you hear us? Hello?" Your mother's hand waves in front of his face before cupping the stranger's face.

His eyes slowly flutter open, revealing the purest brown orbs you have ever seen. His body jerks suddenly upon seeing you and your parents, desperately trying to get away. All three of you rush to calm the man down.

"Calm down... calm down, okay? Nothing will hurt you.. We're helping you here." Your mother said, nodding softly as she tried to approach him. His bewildered eyes switched from you to your mother, to your father.

"Where am I?" He asks quietly, your father explaining to him that he's in the stormlands. They found him swimming desperately in the middle of the sea before his eyes fell closed and he started descending into the water.

His breathing eventually stabilizes and his skin returns to its normal porcelain color while you approach him cautiously. After your father explained to him what happened, you offered your hand to help him stand up. He looks at you suspiciously before grabbing your hand and pulling himself up. The man's body weight pulls you downwards. You would've fallen on him if it weren't for your mother helping you pull him up.

An awfully familiar red liquid drops onto your fingers when you hold the man by the back of his neck, trying to help him up.

"M-mother..." Your voice was shaking, your eyes widening at what it was. They turned to you in confusion. "His.. his head, it's bleeding." You gulped, showing them your finger before the man reached behind his head. The same liquid coated his fingers.

Your parents had rushed him inside, hurrying to grab a piece of scrap fabric to wrap around his head. None of you knew what to do at the moment, and with the man being awfully familiar with the description of the guards earlier, you knew better than to bring him to the city. At least not immediately.

You roasted some fish outside, giving the man named Luke food and a new set of clothes from your father. His clothes were much thinner than the leather ensemble he wore prior.

"Wait, so you fell from the sky? Like, from the sky, then to the waters, then you tried to swim?" You tried to understand the words of the man eating freshly roasted fish in front of you.

"Yes, but I think it's because I fell from my dragon. Wait, then where's my dragon?"

"Pardon? What do you mean dragon-"

"Only Targaryens have dragons!" Arrel cuts you off, shrieking loudly. He always loved those creatures.

You glared at your sibling before turning back to the man named Luke, as he said his name was, the man smiling at your brother.

His smile drops when he sees your glare, awkwardly looking back at his food. You groan loudly, massaging your face with your hands.

"Look, I honestly do not know where my mother and father found you, but you're left here with me, and I need confirmation that you aren't just a mad man waiting for us to sleep before you kill us." You rant, the words just coming out of your mind without even a second to think about what you want to say.

The man looked at you weirdly. His eyebrow arched as he finished the food in front of him, tidying up his utensils and the plate.

"I do not know how to prove my innocence, my lady, but I assure you, I am not a mad man."

"You just said you fell from a dragon!" You interjected. "Because I did! I don't quite remember its name, but I am sure it was a dragon I fell from." Luke replies.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. "And then what, let me guess, you suddenly fell asleep and then fell down your dragon?"

He shrugs. Actually thinking about what happened next. His memories were mere fragments, not remembering much aside from just falling after someone he cannot quite remember, ordered him to fly to the storm's end. It must be an authoritative figure to order him to fly a dragon. At the thought, his head starts to hurt. He didn't remember much, or anything really. Only the fact that he fell. Even his own family, he couldn't remember anything. As much as he tried, his head only hurt even more. 

"I am actually not quite sure. The only thing I remember was me falling from my dragon." He says quietly, his face turning gloomy like the clouds on a normal day. You felt kind of bad at his reaction, not wanting him to feel like you were making fun of what happened to him. The man almost drowned.

"Wait for me here." You spoke, pursing your lips as you left the kitchen while he nodded.

"Thank you for letting me stay, and for the food. It's really good." You smiled a bit at his comment, happy whenever someone praises the food you cook. "Thank you. I roasted it."

You nod at him, gesturing at Alaine and Arrel to watch him before walking to your parents outside, seeing them going crazy over the pouch. Faces bright as they counted the gold coins.

"What are we going to do with him?" They scramble to hide the coins, placing them in their own pouches before dusting themselves. Your eyes staring blankly at them.

Your parents looked at each other, unsure of what to say. "We'll- uh, we'll set up a separate hut for him. He'll stay with us. Or he could be in a tent. It would be beside ours, so we could keep an eye on him."

You look at your father in confusion, "And who will build Luke a hut?" They look at each other once more.

"We will." Your father says with a smile, grabbing a hold of the gold coins in his pouch and jiggling them to hear the clanking of the metal. Rolling your eyes, you watched as the two of them went back to counting the coins, not even bothering to ask where the coins came from.

"And also, bring our catches to the market! I promised Grahar that we would sell him our next catch. Take Luke with you!" A sigh leaves your lips as you go back into the hut.

All the while, Luke was playing with Arrel and Alaine. They seemed to tell him stories about what your family did for a living, while the three of them sharpened wooden spears. They turn to you expectantly. You lick your lips, scratching your head in irritation, when you spot the freshly caught fish in the net by the kitchen.

You walked past the three of them as they went back to playing, grabbing the net full of fish and other sea creatures.

When you walked past Luke to get to the door, you touched his shoulder. The curly-haired brunette turned to you.

"Come on, we have to bring this to the market."

hearts, reblogs, reactions, and comments are highly appreaciated if you loved the fic ! ^w^

#hotd #lucerys velaryon #lucerys fics #lucerys imagines #lucerys x reader imagine #lucerys x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #hotd fics #lucerys targaryen

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 1 🦌

(Inspired by my post from last night)

Content: hunter whumper, captured whumpee in bear trap, rural setting, injuries, creepy whumper, environmental whump (kinda)

1,500 Words (so nice to write something short for once)

I plan to make this series progressively more and more creepy and paranormal as it goes on (introducing ghosts, demons, vampires, etc.) which even begin to freak whumper out. I came up with an entire plot while I was trying (and failing) to sleep last night. I told myself I was going to write something not fantasy and actually grounded in reality for once but noooo I just had to have my cryptids. And complex plots. I'm incapable of making something simple, I really tried, guys. But trust me, y'all have no idea how crazy things are gonna get.

I'll tag this series as #fawn and hunter so you can use that to search my profile for it (which will be their "names" going forward). Apologies if the writing isn't the best, I wrote this in like 2 hours. Btw they're both nonbinary because I've decided I hate gender. Fellow genderqueers rise up.

Anyways, enjoy!

       The woods were Whumpee's favorite place to be. The way the winds rustled through the leaves, and birds sang from their nests up high in the trees. They loved nature, they always had since they were a child. And today was a day just like any other.

       They were new to this area in particular, and were eager to take a walk through a brand new set of woodland. They were heavily geared and excited, taking their steps into a small, secluded nature trail early in the morning.

       They lost themself among the trees, the crunching autumnal leaves beneath their feet, the wind against their face. They hiked through the rocky paths, stomped down steep hills, and rested against the trees. They were an adventurer at heart. One who loved nature, and animals, and the outdoors. They respected it, thanked it, and appreciated it. 

       They hadn't even realized they had ventured off the path, far too amazed by the rushing river and fall scenery. They snapped so many photos on their camera, it was all so beautiful. They had been in the area for about a week now, and locals have called the woods haunted and dangerous. How ridiculous! Whumpee thought. They were really missing out.

       A few hours into their hike, they relaxed in the leaves against a tree near the river, kicking their bare feet in the cold water. It didn't bother them much. They took a drink from their cantine, feeling high and happy on these simple joys of life. This is what it was all about. This was living.

       Whumpee dried off their feet and continued their hike away from the rushing waters, where they spotted a white-tailed deer. A doe, to be exact. She was beautiful, and whumpee was careful to remain hidden and quiet as they peered from behind a tree. They took notice of a heart shape among her white spots, quietly snapping photos of the unique pattern. When she spotted the human, both looked like deer caught in headlights.

       Whumpee slowly, and carefully, pulled out a granola bar from their bag, kneeling down on the ground as they offered it to the cautious creature. The doe slowly approached them, as if she could sense something positive about the small human. She sniffed the oats and began to munch. When there was nothing left the two made eye contact before the doe galloped off into the woods, hoof steps disappearing off into the distance. Whumpee was stunned by the encounter. It felt magical.

       Whumpee continued on through the woods, where the peaceful tranquility was interrupted by a loud, metal clank, followed by a pained scream that echoed through the trees. Whumpee collapsed to their knees in the dirt in a state of shock. They looked to their legs and saw a massive, heavy bear trap clung to their right ankle. It dug straight through their thick boots, going all the way down to the bone.

       As the adrenaline and shock wore off, an unbearable agony coursed all throughout their leg, followed by an aching throb. Any slight movement they'd make with their leg would cause a spike of horrendous, sharp pain. They tried their best to fight through it and pry the contraption off of them, but it was no use, and just caused more turmoil to their vessel. Even if they could get it off, they weren't sure they'd even be able to walk.

       They pulled their phone out of their bag to call for help, but to their dismay they had no signal. How far out did they venture from the path? It couldn't have been that far… yet by the look of the sky, night was approaching. They had been walking all day. How could they have gotten so lost?

       They shut off their phone and their hand fell limp to the ground in defeat. Pure dread took a hold of them as their racing heart dropped to their stomach. All they could do was lie back in the dirt and leaves, control their breathing, and pray to god someone finds them. 

       When they calmed down enough, all that was left was that throbbing ache. They squeezed their eyes shut as tears leaked from them. They felt so stupid. How could they have gotten so lost? How could they have allowed themself to get caught in such a large trap?

       They packed plenty of snacks and water, but would it even be worth it to stay alive? Maybe they should just accept defeat and let the Earth reclaim their bones. They had made a foolish mistake, and this was how things shall end. Taken down by the very thing they love. Ironic, isn't it?

       Night approached quickly, and along with it came the autumnal chill. It was freezing, and there was nothing they could do. They tried their best to relax and rest, but it was difficult. They had been camping many times before, but never without a blanket, in the dirt, with a bear trap around their ankle.

       The cold wind blew the decaying leaves off the trees, rustling as they tumbled around the ground. At least whumpee had the comforting sound of the crickets and owls to keep them company. Even the distant howling of wolves and bats flying overhead helped put them at ease. At least they weren't alone.

       Somehow they managed to fall asleep. They were awoken by the morning sun shining down on them, greeted by the chirp of birds who still had yet to fly south. The sun didn't stay for long, quickly passing behind thick clouds, casting a grey darkness over the land. Whumpee sighed, and stared up at the sky, getting lost in their thoughts of death and decay, trying to accept their fate.

       They were snapped out of their macabre thoughts by the sound of crunching leaves. They firstly assumed it to be a deer, but quickly noticed— it was a person!

       "H— hey!" Whumpee called out, sitting up, "Help me, please, I need help!"

       The person was dressed in thick, layered clothing. They wore a trapper hat with a mask that covered everything but their eyes, gripping an old, dirty, wooden shotgun in both their hands. The hunter looked between them and the trap, surprise in their brown eyes. They walked over to them.

        "Help?" Whumper questions, pulling down their mask, and a slow smile begins to cross their face, "Oh, yes. So sorry about the trap."

       "This… is your trap?" Whumpee questioned in disgust, "I don't hate hunters, but these kinds of traps are cruel and illegal! I've been stuck here all night, and I'm in so much pain, and I'm cold, and— and— stop smiling, you sicko, you caught a person!"

       "I did." Whumper said, sounding almost proud, kneeling down in front of their capture. "But who's fault is that? What's a pretty fawn like you doing this deep into the woods? It's not like there's a trail anywhere around here. I would know. I've never run into another person out here before. Not until now."

       "Don't— don't blame me! You shouldn't even have these kinds of traps to begin with!"

       "Stop yelling, you'll ruin that pretty voice of yours." Whumper grabbed their chin and inspected their face. They had big, green eyes that were only made larger by their circular glasses. Their face was freckled and covered with dirt, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

        Whumpee roughly pushed their hand away, "Don't touch me! I'm fine except for my ankle, all thanks to you. Help me get it off, and I'll leave, and— and won't report you for possessing illegal traps. Is that so hard to do?"

       "Mm, it's not that it's hard..."

       "Then what is it?! Just— just take it off! It hurts! And I'm hungry, and tired, and getting sick, just— help me!" They cried.

      "If you want me to help then you can stop yelling at me. You can do that, can't you?"

       "Yeah, sure, whatever, just make it stop."

       "I don't appreciate your attitude, but I'll let it slide for now." Whumper stood back up.

       "For now?! What do you—!"

       "Shut it." Whumper cut them off, pointing their gun towards them. They then stuck out their hands, looking at whumpee with a blank yet firm expression, "Come. I'll fix you up."

      Whumpee stared at them and their outstretched hands. They didn't trust this person one bit.

       But it isn't like they had a choice.

       Reluctantly, whumpee took their hands, and was helped to their feet. Well, at least their good foot. They leaned against the hunter for support, letting out a groan and scream of pain. Their ankle was still throbbing as the sharp metal teeth cut through flesh and bone.

       Whumper picked them up and threw them over their shoulder, causing a surprised and pained yelp to escape their prey.

       As whumper carried them off through the forest, it was then where whumpee noticed the woodland chatter had fallen completely silent...

( If you want more of Fawn whumpee and Hunter whumper please let me know!! I will be writing more regardless though lol )

Edit: More can be found on my profile by searching Fawn and Hunter 👍 Thanks guys

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #whump things #whump writing #whump writer #rural whump #fawn and hunter

[jpitha]

Siobhan lead Zillig down the promenade, deeper into Little Earth. So many humans had come to the station in the past year that the K'laxi authorities has designated one arm of the spiral shaped station to be set to Earth gravity and pressure settings. The humans themselves had named it Little Earth and before anyone realized it, the humans had made their little part of the station into a home.

Zillig followed her date past rows of restaurants catering to Humans, cooking and serving their food with it's wondrous smells and appearance, even though most of it was toxic to the K'laxi and other sapients on the station. Humans always kept a few items on their menus that the others could eat if a human brought a friend to dinner, or if some brave sapients couldn't hide their curiosity any longer and came to eat. Most of the food was by humans, for humans though.

Siobhan turned off the main street into winding side streets, not part of the original layout. These streets were narrow and took sharp turns, back and forth behind buildings that faced the main promenade.

As they approached, Zillig could hear the music long before she could see the dance hall. One of the few things the K'laxi had on humans were sharper hearing. Their large, forward facing ears were evolved to listen in the woods of their homeworld for predators and their hearing kept them safe. Zillig heard the low, heavy, booming beat of the music.

As they got closer and the music got louder, the people around them began to change. People were dressed up in more elaborate fashions, all genders wearing the strange paint on their face called "makeup." They were all dressed to impress each other. Without knowing exactly why, Zillig felt underdressed and shabby around the humans.

Siobhan didn't seem to mind though. She was a human on a mission. "Oh nice!" she exclaimed. "It's a throwback night! They're playing some classic EDM!" She lined up to get into the club and Zillig stood nervously next to her.

As the line moved forward, the noise got louder and louder and Siobhan started moving in time with the beat unconsciously. Zillig closed her eyes, and turned her active hearing protection rig up so that the cacophony was dampened, but still clear. She was still psyching herself up for it when it was their turn.

"Oh hey Siobhan" the bouncer said. He scanned her and then turned to Zillig and scanned her. "And...Zillig? From over on Radial B? Works with Siobhan in data processing?"

"Y-yeah, confirmed" she stammered.

He glanced at the clearly nervous K'laxi and the beaming Siobhan. "You ever been to a human dance club before?" The bouncer said, giving her a worried, but understanding look.

"N-no, this is my first time. I have my ANC turned up though, so the noise shouldn't hurt me"

"It's not the noise I'm worried about friend, but that's smart thinking. If you're sure, then I'll let you in, but just be aware it's..." He searched for the words. "It's...a human thing. It's probably strange, but nobody here is going to hurt you." He stood up straighter "I'll personally guarantee it.

"She'll be fine Will! Come on Zillig! Let's go dance!" and she took Zillig's hand and started to lead her in. Zillig glanced back at Will, and he gave her a thumbs up, and then turned to the next person in line.

Will the bouncer was right, it wasn't the noise. It was...everything. It was loud, it was dark with lights flashing in time to the music, it was hot, and everyone was so close together. They were all doing a thing they knew and she didn't and she felt so, so small.

"Siobhan!" she yelled over the noise. "I don't think I can do this!"

Siobhan stopped immediately, and turned and bent down "Come on, let's go upstairs for a second."

Siobhan led them up some stairs to a balcony overlooking the dance floor. People here were sitting and drinking, or watching the dance floor. When they got there, Siobhan knelt down. "If you really are uncomfortable, then we'll leave right away. But, why don't we take a minute or two over by the balcony and watch. You can see what's up. A nice thing about EDM night is there are a lot of coordinated dances. I can show you how to Electric Slide!" She grinned.

Zillig could tell that Siobhan very much wanted to show her human dancing and for Zillig to dance with her. The thought of the two of them together on the floor moving in time and pressing close to each other did sound appealing. It's just that human dancing - like lots of human activities - was just...so much. "Okay" She said. "Let's watch for a bit, then go out."

#humans are deathworlders #humans go dancing #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space capybaras #writing #sci fi writing

[grampstaxidermy87]

You don't have to write this but... The Lost Boys helping GN!Reader joins them with their first kill but the reader gets too panicky and nervous so they run off to calm down. Up to you if it's poly or platonic between reader and one of the boys

Oooh up for some fluffy angst hm?

This is a bit short, but I decided to focus on Paul for this one since our poor boy doesn't have many Fics for him. This could be read as romantic or platonic! Now then I hope you enjoy!

Beating Hearts

Pairing: Implied Poly!Lost boys x reader/ Paul x reader

(Could be read as romantic or Platonic)

Summary: It's not until you are about to take your final breath that the gratitude for life hits you like a sack of bricks, but don't worry Paul's there to sooth your worries.

Warning: Panic attacks, blood, murder, mention of turning, angst, but a lot of tooth rotting fluff.

It was all just too much, your heart pounding against your chest so hard that for just a moment you were afraid it would break your ribs. It confused you as to why you finally were scared of what you were about to do, just an hour ago you were so ready to finally take the last step.

But now...Watching them tear into the group of humans that had been partying on a secluded part of the beach you felt that tinge of hesitancy. Fight or flight was kicking in and telling you to run as far as possible, even for just a moment to collect your thoughts and calm yourself before you had a heart attack.

It was easy to turn and run, the boys were distracted by their meals, laughing and jumping around as blood covered their faces. Before you could even rethink it, you were deep in the woods with the glow of the bonfire far in the distance as your heavy breaths echoed in the air.

Stopping once far enough to settle you leaned back against a tree trunk and sunk to the ground, hugging your knees to your chest as you shut your eyes and listened to your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Why did this have to happen now...or at all for that matter. Your poor boys made sure you only came out when you were sure you were ready and look at you now. God you were such a mess, they're probably so annoyed with you...maybe they think you aren't worth the trouble anymore?

"(Y/n/n)? Are you okay baby?" Oh Paul, despite your racing mind you felt his gentle voice fill your brain and bring a wave of comfort through your body. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked up and melted at the worried expression he had.

"I'm sorry...I-I.." He quickly knelt down to your height and placed a hand on your knee when he saw the tears in your bloodshot eyes, "Hey Hey! It's alright babe, you have nothing to apologize for! None of us are mad, we were just worried when we realized you were gone." He gave you an easy smile that helped in calming you down, not slightly hiccupping as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Y-You're not..? B-But I said I was ready..." He titled his head and shifted to sit on the dirt across from me, now rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on my knee.

"I panicked too when it was my turn, even though I thought I was ready." My brows raised as he continued, Though I made it a bit farther than you did heh, But Marko came and helped me back down to earth. They weren't mad at me...so I know for a fact that we're not mad at you."

It was hard to imagine Paul panicking, he was always so carefree and went with the flow. I greatly admired him for it, but to know he was just like me brought a new sense of comfort. The boys were ethereal to me, like bloodthirsty gods while I was just a lowly human...but maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe we were the same after all, I mean we only had each other in this messed up world.

"I think I'm ready to head back." His eyes lit up and he jumped up with a dopey smile, offering a hand to help me up. When I was standing he brought me in to a tight hug, pressing my head to his chest as he laid his cheek on the top of my head.

"Even if you don't end up turning, we'll still love you. You're one of us baby, full-fledged vampire or not." Tears filled my eyes for a new reason, I really loved my boys so much, and to feel such unconditional love back meant more to me than I think they will ever understand.

So with that I knew I had made my decision.

And this time I would stick with it.

#the lost boys x reader #gn!reader #the lost boys #the lost boys paul #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #tlb paul

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Gift-making

Part 1 of my WangXian Valentine's Drabbles <3

Wen Qing walked into the kitchen that morning, groggily dragging her feet onto the hard wood floor. It was barely 7 am and though she didn't have to go to work that day, there were still a million other things to do and she needed an early start.

She didn't know whether she was indeed fully awake when the sight that greeted her was Wei Ying propped up on one of the kitchen stools, dutifully browsing the Internet on his laptop and taking notes.

He appeared very much awake, seemed to be on his second cup of coffee of the morning and the fact that he was wearing his reading glasses meant he was doing some serious business.

"Why are you up so early on a Saturday?" she asked, looking over his shoulder into the laptop screen.

"I'm doing research, Qing-jie!"

"On... welding roses?"

"Yeah, I want to make a bouquet for Lan Zhan for Valentine's Day. I know some things but I need some help on the detailing, I want them to look realistic."

And he resumed taking notes, humming in agreement as the person in the video explained the steps of the process. Wen Qing pressed some buttons on the coffeemaker and picked up her favorite glass cup.

"What happened with regular, natural flowers? Too cliche or what?"

"No, it's just that those die so easily, you know? Every time I get Lan Zhan some, they still wither in a few days. He presses them and has an album of them, but they're still dead. So while I was thinking of what to get him for Valentine's, I came across a picture on Instagram of some guy who welded his wife a flower and decided to try it."

"Oh, I think I saw that too. But it wasn't so intricate, just some nuts and bolts glued together in a stereotypical five petal flower."

"Lan Zhan deserves a lot more than just that, Qing-jie." Wei Ying said, jokingly offended. "And since I can do it, why not? I want to make 7 roses and a special encasing for them. I really hope he'll like them, they're so much work!"

"Won't they be too heavy? It's still metal, right?"

"I'm not making them out of lead, Qing-jie." He replied, flatly, before his tone changed to a dreamy lilt. "And besides, Lan Zhan is so strong, I bet he could lift a ton with one hand and still not feel it."

Wen Qing sighed, sipped at her coffee and joined Wei Ying on an adjacent kitchen stool. "You could gift him an empty trash bag with a ribbon on top and he'll still think it's the best gift in the world and frame it in his office or something."

Wei Ying rolled his eyes. "That's not true, Lan Zhan has fine taste."

"Not if he chose you, he doesn't!"

Wei Ying drank half her coffee cup in retaliation.

--

He knocked three times on the door to Lan Zhan's house, feeling unexpectedly nervous. Why was he nervous? He had been to Lan Zhan's house many times before and they'd gone on a lot of dates together already. Not to mention, the gift he made Lan Zhan came out so well too - the roses looked so life-like, and the encasing made them look so much like a real bouquet! They weren't heavy either, and they would make a beautiful decorative piece.

But... what if Lan Zhan found it weird? Sure, he'd never be rude about it, but Wei Ying really wanted him to like them and -

The door opens, revealing Lan Zhan already dressed up to the nines for their date. He wore that white high neck sweater Wei Ying really liked and those tight black pants and -

"Wei Ying."

Oh, he was so pretty.

"Hi." came the short, breathless response. "You look... the same as always."

Lan Zhan rose an amused eyebrow. Wei Ying turned red and began speaking hurriedly. "I-I mean you always look amazing and you also look amazing right now! You dress really well and you're so pretty and today is no exception!"

Lan Zhan huffed fondly, taking two steps to cross the short distance between himself and his lover and planting a short kiss on his lips. "Wei Ying should not feel nervous."

"Is it that obvious?" A laugh. "I'm sorry, I've never spent Valentine's Day with someone before and I'm a little lost."

"I have not either. But it is fine, we will figure it out together. I will grab my coat."

Wei Ying became suddenly aware of the gift he was holding behind his back.

"Uh- wait!"

"Hm?"

"I... made these for you." Wei Ying said as he presented the skillfully made bouquet, "Regular flowers... don't last long, but these will. I hope we'll be together until the very last one withers."

Next thing Wei Ying registered was Lan Zhan kissing him fervently and being pulled inside his house by the collar.

They didn't make it in time for their reservation anymore.

(In fact, they didn't even make it out of the house until much later.)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #wangxian

[peninkwrites]

the dead don't dream - ch 37 of 37

Tommy gets to jump. Wilbur still smokes. Maybe there's a party too. And there's music. Of course there is music. They're going to be okay.

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 36

~

Some nights Tommy will wake up screaming, feeling so clearly, so certainly, that he is there again.  He never got out.  Dream is still waiting just around the corner and dying will never be an escape.

Those nights are not spent alone.

Maybe there was a time where Tommy would have awoken, alone in his home and found a corner to curl into until he could stop himself from shaking, and maybe Tommy still wakes up alone, but he doesn’t let himself stay that way.

It depends on the night, on the nightmare, but Tubbo and Ranboo will always wake up and open their door to him.  Someone will make hot cocoa.  Someone will put their arm around him.  And they will both listen.  Some nights Tommy stumbles to Wilbur’s rough equivalent of a house in the remake of the camarvan, and there will be a fair chance that Wilbur is already awake, sitting outside, as if waiting for him.

“Ayup,” Tommy announces himself, cane thudding against the wood as he emerges from the darkness, following only the orange glow of Wilbur’s cigarette.

“Ayup,” Wilbur replies.  He puts out the cigarette on Tommy’s approach.  Tommy appreciates it, even if the smell lingers and sours in his nose.

Tommy sits beside him on the narrow steps up to the door, shoulder to shoulder with him without invitation.  “So.  I sorta thought it was like, some cosmic shit that every time I came over here you were already awake, like you knew I was coming, but just occurred to me that’s fuckin’ nuts.  So.  Do you ever sleep?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says completely unconvincingly.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says scoldingly.

“Well, I must sleep some time,” Wilbur huffs.  “And I do, really.  Like.  I go to bed like an hour after sunset like an old man.  I just don’t… I don’t sleep heavy.  So.  I usually wake up a couple hours later and… sit around until it feels worth trying to go back to sleep,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That sounds bad for your health.”

Wilbur laughs.  “Yeah, because if I got a solid eight hours a night I’d be in fantastic shape.”

“I mean, not as strong as me,” Tommy says haughtily.  “But couldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Wilbur rolls his eyes, hands fidgeting restlessly without a cigarette.  He looks over at the lanterns over New L’Manberg.  “I remember making those.  When I was a ghost sure, but when I was younger.  I guess that’s why I did it.”

“Yeah.  Things were… things were looking better here.  When I was exiled– When I was… taken away,” Tommy says.  Tommy is still working on saying that properly.  There are so many frivolous little shifts in language that change so much.  Tommy was exiled, sure, but really he was kidnapped.  Just like when people got nervous about Wilbur and said that he left instead of saying the truth, that he killed himself.  It’s harsher, but Tommy thinks the more they call these things what they are, the less power they have to hurt them.  “Not like I did much to help, but Tubbo and Ghostbur, or, you I guess, made this place a lot better.  Last I saw there was a huge fucking wall around it, so.  Definitely improvement.”

“Right.  It’s strange, you know.  I mean, I’ve said it before, the double memories, sort of, but I remember being here and… and building that crane,” Wilbur nods over to the crane hanging over the water.  “And setting up the lanterns, but at the same time, I’m sort of… sort of in awe of it.  Whatever I did, whatever that isolated part of me did, I think… I think Tubbo is the real reason all this made it here, you know?”

“Yeah.  Tubbo was… he was real tough.  About all of it,” Tommy nods.  “I mean, he wasn’t alone.  At least at the start, he wasn’t alone.  Quackity and Fundy and even like, Phil and Ranboo.  I should’ve been there for him more.  I was…” Tommy glances to Wilbur.  “A bit caught up in my own head.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur understands immediately.

Tommy waves him off.  “We got through our shit in Limbo, no need to drag it back up now.  But Tubbo was mourning too.  And I was supposed to be his VP.”

“If I remember right, you were a pretty great VP.  Not your fault shit hit the fan on your second go of it,” Wilbur shrugs.

Tommy scoffs.  “Of course you’d fuckin’ say that… But you’re right.  I was a pretty great VP.  The best VP to ever fucking VP.” Tommy nods solemnly.  “I guess Big Q can be the best substitute VP.  Definitely not gonna give his Manberg days any credit.”

Wilbur laughs, “how generous.”

“Thank you.  I am very generous.”

“And humble too.”

“Obviously.”

A pause.  Wilbur still feels restless without a cigarette.  He knows he should stop, at least try to wean himself down to only smoking on rare bad days.  It just made things easier sometimes, it was a hard thing to let go of.  “So, nightmare?”  This is usually how nights like these go.

Tommy nods, but doesn’t reply.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it, man, but usually when it means you walking all the way over here it’s pretty bad,” Wilbur keeps his tone casual.

“Yeah.  Well, you know.”  It’s strange.  When Tommy has nightmares about Limbo, he’s more inclined to go knocking on Tubbo and Ranboo’s door even if they have no way of understanding.  It’s almost easier that way.  That he can talk things through with them without the knowledge that they know the suffering he refers to vividly.  Better than Wilbur knowing too well and getting pulled down with him.  When the nightmares more heavily feature Dream, Tommy goes to find Wilbur.  It’s easier than trying to describe it to Tubbo, who still feels weighted with the fact that he’s the one who let Dream take him away the first, and Wilbur had been his only beacon when Dream had him, so Tommy can’t help but feel a bit safer from Dream beside him now.

“It’s alright, man.  You don’t have to,” Wilbur repeats.

“Not much to say, really.  You know how it goes.  Dream comes back.  I try to run.  A-And he– I don’t–” Tommy pauses.  “It fails,” Tommy decides to stop there.  His subconscious has quite the repertoire of violence to draw upon in his memories.  Sometimes nightmares feel a little too real.

Wilbur nods.  “Yeah.  I don’t remember my dreams much.  But you know when it’s a nightmare and your feet get stuck to the floor?  I hate not being able to run in dreams.”

“Yeah, but they’re never like that.  Not these ones.  I can run as much as I want, as hard as I can, and it doesn’t matter because… Well, the real trouble is I don’t have anywhere to run to.  I’m always alone and… and lost.  And Dream never gets tired,” Tommy sighs.  “Aw, now you’ve done it.  I’m talking about it,” he groans.

“Hah, you wanna talk about your feelings, Tommy?” Wilbur puts on a patronizingly endeared tone.  “Aww, Tommy, you come to your big brother to talk about feelings?  What does your heart say?  Tell me.”

“Fuck off.”

Another pause, Wilbur unable to stop his worries from surfacing.  “But… the nightmares are getting better?  It’s been a while since you last had one.”

“Well, no.  I had one a couple nights ago, just went and bothered Ranboo and Tubbo instead,” Tommy says dryly.  “But… actually, before that, it’d been… I dunno.  At least a week since I’d had one.  That’s something, right?”

“Yeah!” Wilbur nudges him.  “Progress is progress, right?”

“What about you, then?  Shouldn't you work on sleeping?” Tommy gives him a look.

“Yeah, probably,” Wilbur shrugs.

“You should ask Ponk.  They offered to give me something to help me sleep.  It’s mellow something,” Tommy says.  “I dunno if it works.  Before we knew Dream was gone, I didn’t want to take anything that was gonna make me out of it if I had to run.  You know,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur ignores the unsettling nature of the latter half of that statement and focuses on the former.  “Mellow something?”

“That’s what it’s called.  ‘Cause it mellows you out I guess.”

“Melatonin, Tommy,” Wilbur smiles, unbelievably fond.  “They offered you melatonin.  It’s… It’s the thing our brain makes to make us sleep.”

“I fuckin’ know what melatonin is,” Tommy bursts out.  “I just didn’t– I didn’t connect it, what it was.”

Wilbur makes no effort to suppress his giggles.

“What’re you laughing about, bitch?!  You’re the dumbass who can’t sleep right,” Tommy snaps with little bite.

“Oh, then what’re you doing up in the middle of the night, hm?”

“Besides the point!  We’re talking about your bullshit,” Tommy pouts.  “I am trying to show concern,” Tommy says with dramatic patronization.  “You just get some of that melatonin shit so you sleep better.  I am telling you to.”

“Sure, for you Tommy, I will,” Wilbur is far too genuine in his endearment.  “You know, I’m really glad you come over.  That you feel like you can do that, like, after nightmares.  That you can talk to me about… about things, all this,” Wilbur gestures vaguely to the air.

“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to talk about this shit, remember?” Tommy almost doesn't know what to do with Wilbur’s thoughtfulness.

“Yeah, that,” Wilbur scoffs.  He raises the unlit cigarette out of habit before irritatedly putting it back down.

“D’you wanna play cards?” Tommy notices.  He always does.

“Bit late for cards,” Wilbur gives him a look.

“Yeah.  Bit late for a lot of things,” Tommy shrugs.

“Yeah.  I don’t want to…” Wilbur grimaces.  “I don’t want to fall back on the cards.  Like, for you the discs were something to you when you were alive as well.  I didn’t give a shit about cards until Limbo and I don’t want them to… it might sound weird, but I don’t want them to mean something to me.”

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“No, no, I like playing cards with you, Tommy,” Wilbur says quickly.  “But what I like about it is just doing something with you.  The cards aren’t the part that matters and that’s– that’s better, right?”

Tommy nods.  “Yeah.  I think I know what you mean.  I do think… I think I still need the discs in a way.  Not like I did before, but I need to know I can still get to them if I want them.  Dunno how healthy that is or whatever, but… I dunno,” Tommy mutters.  “Better than it was.”

“Yeah.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with using a crutch.  I mean, look at me,” Wilbur nods at his unlit cigarette.

“Hah,” Tommy says dryly, tapping his cane on the stone steps.  “A crutch.”

A pause, Tommy continuing more carefully, “sometimes I still don’t feel like this is real.”

To an onlooker the thoughts might’ve seem disconnected, games and vices and crutches and questions of reality, but Wilbur followed Tommy’s train of thought exactly.  They cling to these things because they need something grounding.  “Yeah?  Like what?”

“You know,” Tommy nods in the general direction of nothing.  “Most of it.  All of it.  Being here.  Being free.  Like, sometimes if I think about it too long, I get half convinced this is all a dream or Limbo or something.  And one of these days I’m gonna hear his stupid fucking voice say wake up and I’m back in a fucking cell.”

Wilbur nods, understanding.  “Oh, yeah, I get you there.  Like, I know logically Limbo never had dreams or hallucinations to escape into, unless the vague Ghostbur bits count for anything, but sometimes I think this must be some happy illusion.  I try to logic my way out of it, Limbo always being brutally honest was one of its key features, but it doesn’t always beat back the paranoia.”

“Fair.  I mean, Limbo not having illusions and shit, that doesn’t really cover my bases.  Wouldn’t put it past Dream to do some shady magic shit that makes me hallucinate,” Tommy says bitterly.

“Well, I’m quite sure that I’m real, so if that’s true, we’re in the same illusion together, right?” Wilbur says.

“How’re you so sure I’m real, then?”

“Not exactly a comforting thing to say to an undead, paranoid wreck, you know,” Wilbur gives him a look, amused and maybe a bit concerned.

“Ah, sorry, sorry.  I am real, by the way.  Sometimes I sort of drift and I’m not totally sure that’s true, but generally speaking,” Tommy knocks on his own head.  “Ow.  But see?  3D and everything.”  Tommy reaches out toward Wilbur’s face to prove his point.

“Oy, get your grubby hands off of me,” Wilbur bats him away.

Tommy nods, satisfied.  “Well, there you go.  We’re both real.  So if it turns out all this shit really is still with Dream or in Limbo, we’re not alone, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur humors him.

“And if somehow it turned out you were still in Limbo alone, I’d never stop until I got you back.  Or it would mean I was still with Dream so I’d see you sometimes, right?”

Wilbur nods, taking that one a bit more personally, he goes to reply, before stopping himself.  He doesn’t know how to cope with Tommy’s loyalty.  Maybe a bit more easily after everything, but it’s still strange.  Wilbur goes with the easiest reply.  “Thanks, Tommy.”

“For what?”

“Not giving up,” Wilbur is so tender.

Tommy feels as if the air had been pulled from his lungs.  “But I did give up,” he says with the intonation of someone whose ribs were being constricted.  “I was gonna bury you.  After I knew Dream was gone- I hinged all my fucking hope on what that evil, stupid dickhead could do for me.  I did give up, Wil.  Don’t put that kind of faith on me.”

Wilbur doesn’t take it back, he doesn’t even argue, he just looks at him with a quiet sort of pity.  “Say what you like, Tommy.  You never gave up.”

“But I did, I fucking told you I did-“

“You said you were gonna bury me.”

“I- What?”

“You were going to give me a grave.”

Tommy stares at him, like he doesn’t know what to make of him.  “Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course we were.”

“Not of course you were.  I didn’t get a grave last time, Tommy,” Wilbur says with this slow, intent certainty Tommy finds difficult to challenge.  “You were still gonna take care of me.  Only way left.  That’s what normally happens when someone dies.  When resurrection isn’t an option, because it shouldn’t be an option, that's how you take care of the dead.  That is not you giving up on me, Tommy.  I know you’d never do that.  You were going to keep living.”

Tommy laughs a little weakly, “was I?”

Wilbur shrugs, “that’s more your area of expertise, but in those last months of Limbo, I never felt you growing closer.  Not after that last time.”

“Oh.  Cool.”

“Cool?” Wilbur gives him a look, eyebrows raised.

“What d’you want me to say to your magic death sensing powers from beyond the grave?” Tommy says with sarcastic melodrama.

“Right, fair,” Wilbur laughs.  “You might want to turn in soon.  I’ll probably try to get some sleep too.  Promise.”

Tommy nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I also don’t mind staying up,” Wilbur continues.  “Pretty sure I’ve got insomnia at this point.”

Tommy gives him a reproachful look.  “You said you were sleeping sometimes.”

“Yeah.  Sometimes,” Wilbur teases.  “Go on, then.  What’s banging around that empty skull of yours?”

“Oy!” Tommy pouts.  “I’m a fucking genius and you know it!”

“Hmm I think genius might be a stretch,” Wilbur says with the air of a big brother who knows just the right buttons to press.

“Oh yeah, sure.  Mr. Big Brains over here doesn’t even know how to sleep.  Psh,” Tommy scoffs.

“I mean, I do know how to sleep.”

“Oh yeah, then why aren’t you?”

Wilbur grins, “I actually don’t have a counter point to that one.  Maybe you’re right.  I just don’t know how to sleep.”

“Of course I’m right.  I’m Tommyinnit, I’m always right.”

“And humble too.”

“We already did this bit.  Yeah, and humble too,” Tommy says patronizingly, like Wilbur is being stupid.

Wilbur laughs.  Tommy fucking loves it when he makes Wilbur laugh like that.

“So, you wanna tell me why you aren’t sleeping then, oh wise Tommyinnit, genius of all things?” Wilbur says teasingly.

Tommy frowns.  “Aw, why’d you have to ruin it and go back to the boring stuff?”  He whines.

“Does boring just mean something you don’t want to talk about?”

“Obviously.  Why would I wanna talk about something boring?” Tommy rolls his eyes.

Wilbur gives him another moment to continue on his own.  Then he pushes.  “Is it the nightmare?  Still haven’t quite gotten rid of the cobwebs?”

Tommy’s gloom grows more blatant, shoulders hunched inward.  “Yeah, cobwebs.  He is like a little fuckin’ spider, inne?  Just crawlin’ around in the corner so I can’t shake him out…”

Wilbur’s amusement fades.  “Still feels like that, does it?  That stuck?”

“Well,” Tommy grimaces, mulling it over.  “Kind of?  And also not?  Some days I don’t think about him at all.  But like.  Objectively, Dream still scares me and I know he’s never gonna hurt me again.  And those two things don’t somehow cancel out.  But… maybe that’s okay.  Because I do know Dream can’t hurt me, and me remembering the fear, I like that better to thinking Dream was my friend and shit.  And I like that I can like something better and have it go my way, yeah?”

Wilbur nods.  “I guess that makes sense.  I remember getting caught up in the details in Limbo in a sort of similar way.  Not the friend part, but the… the thinking it was something it wasn’t?  Just trying to figure out why I was like that.  Why being dead was like that.”

“Ever find any answers?”

Wilbur laughs bitterly. “No.”  A pause.  Wilbur has a question he doesn’t know if he should ask.  “Now, I know his logic means absolutely nothing.  It’s not justifiable or logical or anything near fucking human, but…”

“What?” Tommy pushes when Wilbur’s rambling trails off.

“Do you ever think about why he did it?”

Tommy goes quiet and Wilbur immediately regrets it.

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have, I dunno why I asked anyway–”

“No, it’s… it’s a fair question,” Tommy says maybe too mildly.  “I’ve thought about it, obviously.  Somewhat then, but not really.  Back then it was more of the same shit, ‘it’s probably my fault I should just keep my head down bla bla this is probably what’s best, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,’ you know,” Tommy waves it off dismissively.  “And now that I know that’s all bullshit, I guess…”  Tommy knows this isn’t the answer that will make Wilbur feel better, but Tommy doesn’t really care.  “Tubbo thinks– and, well.  He’s probably right.  Dream said he wanted to be immortal.  Tubbo thinks he…” Tommy stops and Wilbur notes he doesn’t actually looks upset, rather just disapproving.  “Must’ve done it for fun,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur yet again thinks he really shouldn’t have fucking asked.  “Fucking christ, man, I am–”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m gonna punt you into the sun.”

“S-so… uh.  Okay, I don’t have a smooth recovery from that one,” Wilbur’s shoulders hunch inward, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Tommy scoffs.  “Well, since you have asked.  I also think… it’s better, that there wasn’t some grand reason.  For Dream or cosmically or whatever the fuck.  I don’t think anything could’ve justified what he did, but… I’m glad there’s nothing to try, yeah?  Like, no one’s trying to put a bow around my trauma so it’s wrapped up all neat and other people can pretend that makes it manageable when I’m the one whose finger gets caught in the ribbon.”

“You– what?”

“You know,” Tommy gestures to his one good index finger.  “When you… when you tie a bow and shit and you accidentally tie your finger in it.”

“...Right,” Wilbur pretends he follows.

“And, I know this– Okay, this isn’t me justifying shit, so, don’t try to fucking therapize me,” Tommy says warningly.  “But if I have to ask myself what it was what for and shit, well.  I’m glad I got to keep you,” Tommy leaves no room for argument, eyebrows furrowed together, somehow looking so much older and also exactly his age.

“Tommy…”

“Don’t you try it, man.  I’m serious.  This isn’t me finding a fucking silver lining or some shit.  Nothing about it was good for me.  For either of us, but– but, if it weren’t for all of this horrible– horrible shit, you’d still be dead.  So.  Maybe by a fucking fluke, it cleaned up your…” Now Tommy falters, unsure of how to put it.  Your mess just seems cruel.

“My mistake,” Wilbur finishes for him, so sure and understanding it’s almost like another apology.  This one Tommy won’t protest.  Wilbur sighs, leaning back against the cool stone steps, not caring as it digs into his back.  “I’ll… I’ll let that all fall into place, okay?  It was a mistake.  And this somehow undid that mistake.  And that doesn’t justify what happened to you, but…”  Wilbur looks at Tommy, dark eyes with something like a storm stirring behind them, but it’s not the kind of storm that leaves Tommy fearing a lightning strike.  “If you want me here, I should be here.” 

Tommy smiles, calmed and maybe a little proud.  “Good.”

Wilbur hesitates, mulling something over in his head, he sits up again, elbows resting on his knees.  “Okay.  This is… probably not constructive, but I keep on getting caught up thinking… well, okay.  First off, me being here at all, getting the chance to live again feels like something lucky.  So it feels a bit shit to complain, and stop me if me roping you into this isn’t fair, but,” Wilbur pauses, still staring out at New L’Manberg.  “We’re never going to get properly all the way better.”

“Real genius, you are,” Tommy says dryly.

“I know, I know, stating the obvious,” Wilbur brushes him off.

“No, no, well, I mean, yeah, but really half-assing it is what you’re doing,” Tommy says scoldingly.  “You think I haven't had the same fucking stupid thought forever now?  Nah.  You’re right, we are never going to be properly all the way better.  Not gonna be who we were before.  Think that bit is pretty typical, though.  I mean, you’re not still a baby.”  Tommy points out.  He sighs, but without weight, rather put at ease.  “But as for us, I’d argue we’re never going to stop getting better, eh?  And when we slide backwards and shit gets rough, that’s just more getting better-ing that we’ve got to get doing.”

Not for the first time, nor will it be the last time, Tommy has stumped him with something so simply and genuinely profound.  Wilbur stares at him and Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his brother looking so amazed.

“What?” Tommy says defensively.

“When’d you get to be such an optimist?”

“Um, fucking always?” Tommy scoffs.  “You think I could’ve survived all this shit, any of it, if I weren’t an optimist?”

“Guess not,” Wilbur is still staring at him.  Maybe he should’ve known better.  Tommy has never given up before.  “You’ve grown.”

Tommy stares back, unwavering.  So much weight behind two simple words.  “That’s what happens when you keep living.”

Wilbur expects this, finally breaking away and looking back into the dark.  He’d been prepared for something painful; why else would he have said it again?

Tommy continues, “so have you.”

“What?” Wilbur looks back at him, his first thought being he's misunderstood, but of course he hasn't.  His expression softens and that instinctive bitterness Wilbur has fought so hard against is washed away by Tommy so easily.

"Come on, don’t look at me like I just asked you to the fucking ball, I mean it,” Tommy breaks the tension in that typical way of his.  “I mean it.  So have you.”  Unspoken, because you kept living.

“I can try not to be sappy, but…” Wilbur makes a decision.  Not an easy one, but it comes to him as naturally as breathing.  He decides to believe him.  “I’m glad I’ve grown.”

Tommy smiles, proud of them both.  “Yeah, me too.”

It’s cooler out the deeper the night has wore on.  It’s nice.  Helps Tommy clear his head a bit.  This close to New L’Manberg’s lanterns he can’t really make out many stars, but the view is pretty either way.

“You know, not gonna lie, New L’Manberg is probably prettier than the OG,” Tommy admits.

“Really?” Wilbur glances at him, surprised.  “Even with the crater?”

“Yeah, actually.  Maybe it’s prettier because we had to make more of it.  To make up for the,” Tommy gestures in the general direction of the crater, whose waters glisten in the light of the lanterns, but their depths remain dark.  In the day it will look far more alive, but for now it’s just a reflection of what they’ve built above it.

“I’m proud of you all.  For doing this.  I should tell Tubbo that too,” Wilbur says, looking back to the wooden houses, the city on stilts.  “You all made something new.  And… okay, I stand by what I said on the 16th.”

“What?” Tommy is puzzled, giving him a worried look.

“Bear with me here,” Wilbur knocks shoulders with him gently.  “I said L’Manberg could never be what it once was.  That I think is still true.  But in other ways, you and Tubbo and all the rest beautifully proved me wrong.  The world is not better off without L’Manberg.  In some form.”

Tommy feels a warmth growing brighter in his chest.  He hadn’t realized he needed to hear Wilbur say that until he said it.  “Just like the world isn’t better off without you.  Right?”

Wilbur laughs softly, eyes already shining.  He’d just barely kept it together so far, and here Tommy goes and makes it impossible for him to hate himself.  Not on a night like this.  I’ve grown.  The thought persists, not a fire burning in his chest, it’s a relief, the calm after the storm.  “Don’t say that, I’ll cry.”

“Then cry, bitch.  I won’t take it back,” Tommy teases him.  “And come on, it makes sense.  L’Manberg didn’t stay dead and neither did we.  Might be too good a metaphor, actually,” Tommy sighs, almost wistful.  “Never gonna be the same, but still here.  Just… on stilts,” Tommy taps his cane on the stairs again, both to emphasize his point and just something to do with that restlessness still ill contained inside of him.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Wilbur stands, stretching until his bones crack loud enough to make Tommy wince.

“Yeah,” Tommy stands as well.  He pauses, staring toward the prime path, but he doesn’t leave.

“You wanna crash here tonight?” Wilbur says before he can walk away.

“In your little shithole?  Where?” Tommy tries to stay aloof, but he hasn’t said no.

Wilbur shrugs.  “You take the bed.  I’m a big boy, I can sleep on the floor for one night.”

“Old man, more like it,” Tommy scoffs, but he follows Wilbur into the camarvan.  “I don’t think your bones can take it.  I can take the floor.  Not like it’s obsidian.”

“No, no you don’t do that, especially not saying ominous stuff like that.  You let me be the super generous and cool big brother and take the bed,” Wilbur tries to be stubborn.  He’s lost his touch.

Tommy gives him a look before dragging Wilbur’s mattress off the wooden frame and onto the floor.  Wilbur stares, far too tired for this and baffled.  “So.  Who’s sleeping on the floor now?”

“We both are, dipshit.  We’ll lay on it on the short side, so.  Our legs will be on the floor, I guess, but it’s fair,” Tommy is far too proud of himself.

“Right.  So neither of us sleep well.”

“We don’t sleep well already,” Tommy says pointedly.

“Fine.  Now shut up and go to sleep,” Wilbur doesn’t even bother taking off his coat or grabbing a blanket.

“You’re like a fucking animal.  Do you ever change out of that coat?” Tommy rolls his eyes, laying down across from him.

“Shush.  Sleep,” Wilbur mutters.

Tommy doesn’t sleep just yet, he finally gets settled, but a slow dawning thought takes up space instead of rest.  Tommy stares at the roof of the camarvan.  At the blue tinted skylight.  It really is a perfect copy.

“You… you remember this, yeah?” Tommy says a little hoarsely now.

“What’re you talking about, man?” Wilbur groans, burying his face in his pillow.

Tommy reaches out and hits Wilbur’s arm.  “You know.  But… we’d only sleep in here when it rained because it got too crowded.”

Wilbur rolls over, following his gaze to the skylight.  He understands.

“The table was in the middle then.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, me and Tubbo were squished between the table and the counters with the brewing stands on…” Tommy lifts his head up, “on that side, right?  And you always slept up front.  And… and…” Tommy sits up now.  “Eret slept by the back wall.  And Fundy took the other side.  And… I guess me and Tubbo didn’t need to sleep next to each other, one of us could’ve gone up on the other side of the table, but we… I dunno, we didn’t,” Tommy flops back down.  “By the time… after the war when we had Niki and Jack we also had more places to stay, so.  We didn’t get that with them so much.  But… you know.  You remember,” Tommy almost says it like a question.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do,” Wilbur says quietly.  He remembers sitting in the front seat, and that early he did sleep some, instead of staying awake wondering how they would all survive.  Before the war really began, when he was still radiant with hope.

“That was good,” Tommy says.  It’s so simple, those three words, but Wilbur feels the weight of them, a gentle ache in his chest.

“Yeah, it was.”

Tommy smiles softly, he knows he’s changed and so has everything else, but at least he can still look up at that skylight, and remember looking at those same stars.  Nostalgia is a kindness again, even if it cannot be untied fully from grief.  He knows Wilbur is still staring at him, understanding him even.

“Go to sleep, man,” Tommy rolls over away from him.

They sleep until after dawn.  Tommy doesn’t have another nightmare.

~

Tubbo and Ranboo go by Tommy’s house near noon, but he isn’t there.

“Huh,” Ranboo shrugs.  “Maybe he went on ahead?”

“Yeah, probably.”  Tubbo feels a quiet undercurrent of relief, barely a thing of note, that Tommy not being where he’s expected to be is no longer a thing of terror, and instead a wonderfully meaningless one.

They’re approaching New L’Manberg still without sign of Tommy, but Wilbur is awake, sitting outside the Camarvan.

“Hey, Wilbur– you seen Tommy?” Tubbo calls ahead.

“Yep,” Wilbur jabs his thumb over his shoulder back toward his home.  “That kid could sleep for a week, I swear.”

“He slept over here?” Ranboo asks.

“Nightmare?” Tubbo cuts in.

“Yeah, you know how it is.  Slept better once he got here, though.  Do you want me to grab him?” Wilbur stands, stretching, his knees cracking.

“Nah, we’ve got him,” Tubbo steps up, pushing past Wilbur and into his home like he owns the place, Ranboo following a bit more apologetically.  Tommy is barely on the mattress laid out on the floor, his head hanging off of it, mouth open as he sleeps.  He’s back to his old ways, Tubbo notes.  A blanket hog taking up as much room as possible.  Perfect.  “Tommy?” Tubbo announces himself first, before gently nudging Tommy’s shoulder.  He knows how this goes by now, he has to announce himself first, and Tommy might still jump and you do not under any circumstances say wake up.  A muffled noise of discontent comes from underneath the blankets, Tommy’s half visible face scowling, eyes shut tight.  “Come on, bossman, you’ve already slept half the day away.”

A hand emerges only to halfheartedly swat Tubbo away like an annoying fly.  Tubbo steps back before Tommy can accidentally slap him.

“It would be too mean to take him down to the docks and throw him in, yeah?” Tubbo whispers.

“Uh.  Yes.  Unless your goal is to actually terrorize him,” Ranboo replies dryly.

“Hm.  Maybe not terrorize.  Just annoy,” Tubbo says thoughtfully.  Tubbo thinks over the odds of Tommy swinging a knife at them if he’s startled.  They’re relatively high, but the odds of Tommy actually stabbing one of them are a bit lower.

Tubbo has a water bucket.

“You’re not gonna..?” Ranboo is more reluctant.

“No, I’m not gonna dump it on him,” Tubbo whispers back.  “Just…” Tubbo gets his hand wet, stepping up beside Tommy, flicking off the water onto his face.

Tommy makes a noise somewhere between confusion and outrage, sitting up sharply and almost smacking his head against Tubbo’s.

“Did you just spit on me?!” Tommy shouts.

“No!  No, I did not!” Tubbo is torn between defending himself and laughing.

“No– No you just spit on me!  My face is all wet– fucking gross, man!” Tommy whines.

“It’s water, Tommy!  It’s just water,” Tubbo’s efforts to bury a laugh grow weaker.

“You’re laughing?  You laughing at me?”  Tommy tackles Tubbo, the bucket of water flooding Wilbur’s home.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tubbo wheezes without an ounce of guilt.

“Come on, guys, just– oh no–” Ranboo jumps up onto the counter before the water can reach him.  This was supposed to be a relaxing day where he wouldn’t need armor.

“What the fuck are you all doing to my house?” Wilbur ducks back inside.  He stares forlornly at the now drenched mattress on the floor.  “Oh.  Oh this sucks.  Look– Look, you guys got the Enderman up on the counter like a fucking cat– you ruined my bed, so how about you all take this outside?”

Tommy and Tubbo stop, limbs tangled together, Tubbo with Tommy half in a headlock and Tommy definitely about to bite down on Tubbo’s arm.

“Actually, Tubs, could you– Not around my neck, don’t– don’t–” Tommy feels a flicker of panic, tapping against Tubbo’s arm rapidly, who immediately lets go.  “J-Just not trapped– I can’t–”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Tommy.”

Tommy calms easily enough, the two of them still falling over each other on Wilbur’s now soaked floors.

“Fucking christ– Just– Just–” Wilbur sighs.  “Drag this shit out into the sun so maybe I’ll get some actual sleep tonight, yeah?”

They exchange a look, staring from Ranboo crouched on the counter very much like a cat to each other and their soaked clothes.  They collapse into giggly hysterics for reasons somehow only known between the two of them.

Wilbur scowls.  “I’m never letting you stay over again.”

“Aw, you don’t mean it,” Tommy scrambles to his feet.  “Come on, Wilby–”

“Wilby!” Wilbur’s irritation sharply becomes vicious delight.  “You did it!”

“What?! What, no– No, I didn’t–”

“You called me Wilby again! You did!” Wilbur cackles.

“I did not!” Tommy chases him outside.

“It was a puddle, Ranboo.  You’re wearing flipflops.  You would’ve been fine,” Tubbo teases him.

“I would not, flipflops are barely shoes!” Ranboo pouts.

“Do you want me to carry you safely away from the terrible flood, Ranboo,” Tubbo says with mocking sympathy.

“As if you could,” Ranboo scoffs.

Tubbo gives a look of perfectly calm innocence.

“You…” Ranboo stares at him.  “Whoa– Hold on– waitwaitwait– put me down, oh my god, put me down!”

“Nope!  Not until you’re safe and far away from the water.  You’re not getting hurt on my watch!” Tubbo says smartly, Ranboo helplessly thrown over his shoulder and so tall it’s a miracle they haven’t both fallen over.

“Okay, okay, we’re outside, we’re away from the water, you can put me down–”

“But surely we should get to higher ground first!  The ground could be damp!”

“Oh, you are sooo gonna pay for this,” Ranboo grumbles.

“Am I really?”

“Yep,” and with that, Ranboo makes sure they both fall over, throwing his weight to the side and taking Tubbo down with him.

“Ow,” Tubbo lies flat on his back.  “You’re so mean.”

“I’m mean!” Ranboo laughs, clambering off the ground.

“Yeah.  So mean,” Tubbo lays an arm across his eyes, full of self pity.

“What’d you do to Tubbo?” Tommy stops his efforts, throwing Wilbur’s mattress onto the grass.

“Just on the ground?!” Wilbur blusters.

“Where the fuck do you want it, then?!” Tommy shouts back.

“On the– On the wood or something, not in the mud!” Wilbur snaps, grabbing the mattress, hauling it much more pathetically onto the wooden platforms.

“Quit your nagging old man, we’ve got important shit to do,” Tommy leaves him.  “Come on, Tubbo, you’re not tired already, are you?”  He grabs Tubbo’s arm and tugs him off the ground.  Now they head toward their original destination over the hill.

They take off shoes and socks and Tommy lays his still bloodstained green bandana beside Tubbo’s faded and frayed red one and Ranboo stays fully clothed, albeit not in armor, intending on getting some sun and reading or some other boring shit that Tommy has no interest in, if not he’ll go bother Wilbur or Phil or something.  Ranboo is definitely not suited for Tommy and Tubbo’s plans for the day.  The three of them stroll down the dock and Tubbo and Tommy both keep Ranboo between them so he isn’t anywhere near the edge of the water.

Tommy had agreed to this.  They were in the height of summer heat now and at the time it had sounded like a good idea.  The water in the crater underneath New L’Manberg was too still, it was more occupied by fish, but out in the cove around the docks the water is clear and cool, stirred by waves.

The thing is, in recent memory Tommy hasn’t had the best time swimming.  Especially not in salt water.  If he thinks about it too hard, he can already taste it, the burn, the weight of it filling his throat when all he wants is air.

He’s had happy memories swimming too.  One’s that he can recall untainted, because it hadn’t been salt water.  It had been rivers and lakes and easy days, their L’Manberg coats left to dry on a rock as Tommy and Tubbo tried to get Fundy to join them.

It all comes back to the salt.

“You know, we don’t have to jump in.  We can go around the pier, to the sand, you know,” Tubbo sees him staring over the edge, transfixed, and he tries.

“Okay, bitch, feel free.  Don’t forget a fuckin’ pool noodle too,” Tommy says haughtily.

“Oh yeah?  Jump in, then,” Tubbo teases him.

“From here?”  Tommy scoffs.  “Nah– I’m jumping off from the top and I’ll beat you there,” Tommy pushes him lightly, just enough to make Tubbo yelp as he teeters a bit closer to the edge, but by then Tommy is sprinting toward the wooden platforms built up over the water.  He doesn’t notice that his leg doesn’t hurt, and that is its own victory.  The absence of pain is no longer a surprise.  He still has his bad days, it requires constant maintenance with physical therapy or his progress just disappears, and long trips he keeps his cane close, but he no longer expects it to always hurt.  That’s more than enough.

He can hear Tubbo right behind him and now the sound of footsteps at his heels does not send sparks of terror through him.  He knows Tubbo’s footsteps as well as his own.  Tommy stops sharply, three storeys up, the sky is so big and so blue and it touches the water so easily there is only a thin line between above and below and it’s all so big, but Tommy isn’t scared of it.  He looks down.  The waves are gentle, still, it’s quite the drop.

“Look,” Tubbo pants, catching his breath.  “I’ll jump if you do.”

“Yeah?” Tommy doesn’t look at him, only straight down at the sea.

“Yeah.”

Tommy can’t bury a smirk, crooked delight overtaking him for reasons he can’t quite name.  “Countdown?”

“Ten,” Tubbo steps up beside him, their shoulders touching.  “Nine.”  Tommy steps up even closer to the edge, his toes over open air before he steps back again.  Not yet.  “Eight.”  Tubbo sounds a little nervous.  Tommy doesn’t tease him for it.  “Seven.”  Tommy feels like there’s just a spark of lightning inside of him, he is remembering when a touch of adrenaline meant fun.   “Six.”  He’s ready.  “Five.”  Tommy isn’t wearing his goggles, and the sun is still too bright, but he’ll manage knowing he can block it out if needed.  “Five– Wait, fuck–”  

Tommy laughs, barking and sharp.  “Four, Tubso.”

“Right,” Tubbo laughs, a giggle almost under his breath.  Tommy glances up from the water over at him.  Tubbo is young.  He is eighteen years old.  He looks it too, scars and all.  Tommy must look seventeen, scars and all.  Tommy is seventeen years old and the days will pass as days and nothing more until he will turn eighteen, and then he’ll keep going.  Time is no longer something that can be stolen or pulled apart or bottled.  He’s quite alright with that.  “Three, two, one.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate when he steps off this ledge, and maybe it was naive of him not to realize the parallels he was drawing, but the comparison feels so feeble now.  Falling doesn’t feel like dying anymore.  Tommy is in freefall, he shouts his joy into the wind tugging past and the water rushes up to meet him, catching him none too gently, the bottom of his feet sting and the taste of salt is overwhelming, he’s sinking through the water and this pace is familiar, this sluggish gravity hints at limbo but any comparison stops there.  Here there is still dappled sunlight pressing against his closed eyes and there’s water annoyingly in his nose and it’s not silent.  Not silent by a longshot with the easy current stirring against his skin, just like it isn’t empty.  Tommy is back in a beautifully mortal sea, but he doesn’t drown.  He breaks the surface and breathes.  

He’s with Tubbo again and it’s summer.  Tommy feels alive.

~

Wilbur still has a hard time knowing what to do with himself, especially when he can’t follow Tommy around.  And without Tommy around to tell him off, he does end up smoking more when he’s alone.

Although, he’s not always alone.

“Light?” Quackity, at least to Wilbur’s often distracted mind, seemed to almost appear beside him.

“W-What?” Wilbur stares at him.

Quackity raises an eyebrow, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, glancing to Wilbur’s own lit one.  “I uh, I was wondering if I could borrow a light?”

“A–? Oh!  Oh, yeah,” Wilbur fumbles in his coat pocket.

Quackity still looks curiously amused as Wilbur lights the cigarette.  “Still wearing that thing, are you?”  He says as Wilbur shoves the lighter back in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“That coat, man.  It was kinda gross before the… everything that happened after Pogtopia, and now…” Quackity grimaces sympathetically.  “Could use a wardrobe change,” he turns half away, looking over New L’Manberg.

Wilbur’s current favorite smoking spot is up on the hillside, in the shade perhaps too close to Ghostbur’s sewers.  Wilbur hasn’t gone back there– or, he supposes, in this state of being, in this living body, gone to the sewer for the first time.  But there’s something peaceful about being up here.  He can look out over New L’Manberg in its entirety.  Things have changed so much around here that Wilbur almost forgets not too far from here is where he first tried to end things.  Tried.  It no longer counts as a successful attempt, not really in the long run. Good.

This coat still has a hole in the back.  The exit wound of a sword outlined in tatters.

“Yeah.  I probably should,” Wilbur admits.  The coat is comforting, somehow.  It’s heavy, the material soft from being so heavily worn, but stiff and sturdy in ways that, if Wilbur really thinks about it, probably has to do with how disgusting the coat probably is from old blood and dirt.  “I like having all the pockets,” is the feeble excuse Wilbur settles on.

Quackity laughs in that dry, charming way of his.  “You can get another coat with pockets.”

“Touché.”

They haven’t really talked since Wilbur became alive again.  Wilbur knows he must have at least seen Quackity in all that time, the guy has hung around often enough, kept New L’Manberg together.  Although, New L’Manberg hardly needed a leader, or even a government, when everyone who had tried to destroy them was either gone or had grown up, Quackity and Sapnap being prime examples, but he still seemed to want to check in.

Wilbur attempts to catch up.  “How are Karl and Sapnap?”

“Good, you know, they’re good,” Quackity says with a temperamental level of authenticity, nodding.  Quackity gestures with his cigarette vaguely.  “Sapnap…” He takes a drag, exhaling too heavily, Wilbur waits while he clears his throat.  “He’s still kinda… trying to make sense of it all.  In a way, we all are.  But especially for him.  I mean, he was his best friend.  Feels like a lifetime ago, but I guess not for him.  And it’s not like he’s conflicted or some shit, it’s just, he thought he knew him and he turned out to be a fucking monster.  That takes some processing,” Quackity shrugs, Wilbur hums in agreement.  “And Karl is…” Quackity trails off, clearly lost in a deep thought that Wilbur is not necessarily privy to.  “He’s got us both a little worried, but we’re all trying to figure it out together.”  A weighted pause, Quackity returning to some old conviction kept close to his chest.  “We’re making it up as we go, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur follows his gaze back out to his former city-state.  From here, he can’t see them, but he knows Tommy and Tubbo are just over the hillside.  Ranboo has returned to the main platforms of New L’Manberg and is chatting with Phil.  “I think that’s all any of us are doing, really.”

“Yeah,” Quackity agrees, still musing.  “Just a couple of fuck ups doing our best, right?” He sighs, not bitterly, but almost content.

It’s been a long time.  For Wilbur, at least, it’s been a long time, but he hasn’t forgotten everything.  He and Quackity, they’d understood each other in a particularly ugly, vicious way.  And it looks like they’ve both pushed past that ugliness, but Wilbur knows, at least for himself, some parts of that stayed and will probably always stay.

“So, do you talk to them?  To Karl and Sapnap.”

“Talk to them?  I mean, obviously.  What’d you mean?” Quackity is cautious in an instant, sensing Wilbur’s shift to something a little past smalltalk, and Wilbur knows if he wants anything from the man he’ll have to show some weakness and offer up part of himself first.

“I mean, I’ve tried.  I’ve talked some.  With my own family, you know, Tommy, Phil, all them,” Wilbur talks like he’s pulling teeth, he would know.  “It’s hard.  You said it, we’re both fuck ups, and at least for me, that means the… the shitty things I’ve done, yeah?  And…” Wilbur doesn’t know how he’s doing this.  Being vulnerable in his first chat with former-friend, former-rival, former- something, Quackity HQ.  “Even dead, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tommy how fucked up I was.  Even when it was pretty clear Tommy already knew.  But I’m trying, yeah?  And… I think you might understand some of that.”

Quackity looks genuinely surprised, even startled.  “Y-Yeah, I… I think I know what you mean.”  This is different from miserably rubbing elbows with dry sarcasm about whatever is wrong with the two of them.  Quackity knew Wilbur came back different, but this was… well, Quackity had admired Wilbur a long time ago for reasons as far from this as they could get, but maybe for a moment, maybe for longer than a moment, Quackity admires Wilbur again, for something Quackity is only just learning to appreciate himself.  Wilbur is trying.  And yes, they’d just been over that, they’re fucked up and they’re making it up as they go, but it’s not just for their families.  Wilbur is trying for himself as well.

Maybe Quackity should elaborate, explain his own side of whatever this is, but instead he just stares over the hillside and says a soft, “huh,” of understanding.

Quackity is hard for Wilbur to read now.  He doesn’t remember him being this way, then again, maybe Wilbur had been younger and more inclined to make assumptions than actually try to figure out what Quackity was thinking.  Quackity has grown too, and is more inclined to tell him what he’s thinking, and to give Wilbur something kind enough to take his breath away again.  “You know, I think it’s really good you’re back.  That’s probably… a kinda redundant thing to say,” he laughs, half under his breath, still not looking at him, like he hasn’t just handed Wilbur something precious.  “And I dunno if they still need us, if you know what I mean, but I think they should still have us, you know?”

Maybe Wilbur shouldn’t be able to follow such a vague train of thought, but he does.  He isn’t sure how he’s going to manage Quackity being happy to have him back, so he’ll deal with what he can manage.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says.

Now Quackity looks at him, puzzled.  “For what?”

“For taking care of them,” Wilbur explains, soft and almost apologetic.  He doesn’t know if there are the words to properly tell Quackity how grateful he is.  “I was gone, and– and you took care of them.”

Quackity almost winces.  “Maybe don’t thank me, alright?  Did a pretty shit job of it, though, considering.”

“I don’t give a shit how good you were at it.  You were there, weren’t you?” Wilbur says more fiercely now, and with it, unspoken, and I wasn’t.

Yet again, Quackity knows exactly what’s unsaid, on whatever peculiar shared wavelength they’ve always had over the years, staring at Wilbur with wide eyes.  The pause extends, heavy between them.  Quackity breaks the stare.  He nods.  “Yeah.  Well, if that’s all it takes to make the grade nowadays, you’re here now.  Thanks for coming back,” he smirks, like they share an inside joke.

Wilbur laughs even if he doesn’t quite know why.  “Any time.”

They both know they shouldn’t, but they keep smoking, and maybe it’s a little less pathetic with company.

~

Tommy had forgotten that exhaustion could be peaceful.  Late afternoon, they’ve left the water behind, instead finding a place in the sun in New L’Manberg to sit wrapped up in towels.

“I’ve been thinking of some shit,” is how Tommy begins.

“Good for you, man.  That sounds hard,” Tubbo teases him.

“Fuck off,” Tommy’s retort is almost instinctive nowadays.  He continues, “I’ve been thinking about doing something.”

“Okay, that’s terrifyingly vague,” Ranboo raises an eyebrow.

Tommy looks at both of them.  A very old friend and a far newer one who had helped to save him.  He had told Tubbo and Ranboo that he didn’t know how to choose for himself anymore.  He didn’t know what to do with himself, because he’s not used to anything like free will.  Tommy knows what he wants to do.  Maybe it’s a foolish thing, a desperate ignorance, even something childish.  Tommy is stubbornly proud of his ability to want something that might be unreasonable.

It isn’t easy, Tommy trying to explain, but Ranboo and Tubbo listen all the same.  “I want to do something.  We’ve got… I’m here now.  And I want to… I dunno.  Have an event that doesn’t end bloody.  Kind of to… to thank everyone for all the shit they’ve done, but also for…” Tommy forces the words out, they feel like such a delicate thing.  “For L’Manberg.”

“Yeah?” Tubbo’s voice softens, but he understands.

“I want it to be all of us,” Tommy says.

“Who’s all?  That’s also a bit vague.”

“Well, at first I thought just the originals, but that felt unfair, you know?  Like, Niki and Jack are obvious.  But even then, there’s more to it, yeah?  No offense, Ranboo.”

“Nah, fair enough,” he shrugs.

“I get what you mean,” Tubbo considers this carefully.  “There are a lot of people who helped us, but who weren’t there.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I think them too.  Which… sot of defeats the purpose of a thing for L’Manberg, but even if they weren’t there there, they were still there, yeah?” Tommy offers as explanation.  “And it’s not a festival or some shit,” Tommy says quickly.  “I don’t think we should have another one of them.  It’s more just…”  Tommy doesn’t know how to describe what he wants.  What he really wants is a return to the old days, sitting around a campfire with people he trusted with his life, eating the same food, singing a new anthem.  He knows it won’t be that.  He just wants something, even if he can’t fully describe what.  “We just need a reason.”

~

Wilbur doesn’t know how he got here, but he feels incredibly lucky.

Tommy wanted everyone and they would have everyone, but he also wanted it to be them first.

That is how Wilbur found himself sitting on the floor of his Camarvan, Tommy and Tubbo chatting away, sitting on top of the counter right behind him, Tommy as always talking the loudest, and Fundy and Eret familiar with learning to have their own conversation around him.  Jack looks somewhat bored, sitting cross legged across from Niki, holding a mirror as she puts on makeup.

Wilbur wasn’t sure whose idea the dress code was, but it had been decided everyone would dress for a party.  Not fancy necessarily, the goal was more meant to be fun.

Wilbur has on a clean white button up on, faded to grey, striped with pale pink.  He’s also wearing a long brown coat.  A new long brown coat.  Quackity had turned up with it, it wasn’t a gift, wrapped up and offered with a card, it wasn’t even a favor.  Quackity had just shrugged and handed it to him and said “If you want to keep wearing that nasty old coat, fine.  But you can’t say I didn’t try.”

Wilbur still has that nasty old coat, buried in a chest somewhere.  He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.  The thought was like tearing off a limb.  The one Quackity had given him wasn’t identical, but it was close enough that Wilbur could find comfort in it.  Maybe it helps that there isn’t a hole in the back, a constant reminder of an old exit wound.  It’s summer, no one is wearing a coat.  Out of the sun, Wilbur finds a way to be cold no matter what.  The coat helps.

Maybe his attire isn’t as put together as Jack’s blazer, and definitely not as fancy as Eret in a gown, but it’s all clean, not a stain or hole in it, and that’s as fancy as Wilbur gets nowadays.  Even Tommy had cleaned up, in his own Tommy-ish way.  That being he’s wearing a white button up underneath his usual red and white shirt and has a green bowtie on as well, Tubbo following his lead with his usual green shirt buttoned up correctly and a red bowtie to match Tommy’s.

Wilbur only half attempts to tune into the conversations.  A decade ago, or a bit over a year ago maybe, he’d always had something to say.  He’s still not used to conversation being an option, but it’s okay to just listen.  He does notice the way they’ve fractured off.  Tubbo and Tommy together of course, always, but Eret and Fundy have chosen their corner even if they don’t seem especially at ease with one another, just like Niki has dragged Jack aside with far more certainty.  They’re all together, but Wilbur sees the lines in the sand of things still left changed.  Even this lot is a fracture of history.  Eret being here maybe should seem wrong, but Niki and Jack don’t really know to feel that wrongness, and if Eret wasn’t meant to be here, Wilbur most definitely wasn’t.  If the lines get any blurrier, they should get Quackity and Ranboo back here as well, maybe even Phil.  They’ll come eventually.  This feels like a good start.

“Good?” Niki sits up, looking at Jack.

“Yeah.  I like the colors,” Jack says with halfhearted interest.  “Can I put the mirror away now?”

“Yes–” Niki seems to reconsider.  “If you let me put eyeshadow on you.”

Jack stares at her, reproachful.  “Will this take another twenty minutes?”

“I will just use red and blue.  Like your glasses, okay?” Niki teases him, lightly punching his arm.  “And it did not take twenty minutes.”

Jack shrugs, “I don’t care, but dunno what’s the point if it’s behind my glasses.”

“The point is fun, Jack, if you might recall,” Eret joins in.

“Yeah!  It doesn’t have to be just regular makeup,” Niki sifts through her bag.  “Actually, I have a bunch of old facepaint– I could paint something on your face as well, if you want?”

“Could you draw a bee on my face, Niki?” Tubbo perks up.

Niki laughs, endeared, “sure, Tubbo.”

“Yeah, alright, then– I dunno what you’d draw on me,” Jack shrugs.  “Do what you like.  My handsome face will be your canvas.”

“Good,” Niki nods smartly, scooting closer and leaning against him.  “Now, close your eyes.  And can you can you sit still?”

“I can’t if you’re gonna knock me over,” Jack grumbles.

“You can sit up for a few more minutes, Jack, I’m already done with the eyes,” Niki teases him, digging out something else from her bag.

Tubbo hops off the counter, sitting behind them, watching her work over her shoulder.  “What’s that supposed to be?”

Niki’s right side is toward the back wall, so the rest of them can’t see what she’s painting on Jack’s cheek.  Tommy hops down as well, “I want to see.”

“Just wait a second, I just started,” Niki rolls her eyes with little actual irritation.

“You should draw a dick on his face,” Tommy offers wisely.

“Who says I’m not?”  Niki shrugs, much to Tommy’s delight and Jack’s chagrin.

“Niki, please,” Jack says with genuine desperation.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Niki says mildly.

“Oh, I see!” Tubbo says brightly.  “That’s lovely!  Could you do that on mine as well?”

“What, you want a dick drawn on your cheek, Tubso?” Tommy makes himself look scandalized.

“Sure, Tubbo.  And if you’re not careful, Tommy, don’t think I’m above painting that on your cheek,” Niki is all mischief now.

“No, no I want to match Tubbo,” Tommy says quickly.  “And Jack Manifold too, I guess.”

“What is it?  You’re making me curious now too,” Fundy hops past Jack to join the rest of them.

“It’s getting too crowded,” Niki gives them all a look, making the three boys scoot back.

Fundy winces.  “Oh, no, Jack…” He sighs.  “I can’t believe you let her paint that on your face.”

“What?!” Now Jack is panicked, scrambling for the mirror.

Fundy cackles.

“Oh my god, Jack, you’re fine,” Niki laughs.

“Oh,” Jack sounds pleasantly surprised.  “Well, that’s alright then.  Actually, that’s great!”

“I told you they were messing with you, Jack.”

“No, no you actually didn’t, what you did say was much more ambiguous,” Jack says pointedly.

“Okay, Jack, just turn around, will you?” Eret speaks up.  “You all have actually got me intrigued.”

Jack turns to face the rest of them, and on his left cheek is a L’Manberg flag.

“Oh, Niki, that is awesome, dude!  What if–” Eret’s excitement turns more hesitant. They’d been a bit unsure since coming here, an invitation extended to them for L’Manberg is something that feels like a delicate thing.  “I was thinking, what if we all…”

“What if we all matched?” Fundy says for them.  “I’d… Yeah, I’d be down with that.  That was a good idea, Niki.”

Niki looks so proud, cheeks just a bit pinker.  “I think that sounds like a really nice idea.  But I’m not doing all the work.  You all can paint, can’t you?”  She dumps out her bag, Tommy and Tubbo immediately fighting over a brush.

Fundy avoids the pair of them.  “Eret?  I promise I won’t paint a dick on your face.”

“I don’t!” Eret replies cheerfully, seeming more at ease at Fundy’s easy agreement; that this was something for all of them, together.

Wilbur has been in a sort of daze, almost.  He’s been perfectly content to watch them all moving around him, but it’s like he isn’t quite sure how to cross back over, to be with them properly and completely.

“Wil?”

That is definitely his name, but it takes Wilbur a few seconds too long to realize Niki is talking to him.  “What?”

She turns to face him, patting the ground in front of her.  Her eyes look almost surrounded by fire.  “Do you not want to?”

“N-No, I do, I definitely do,” Wilbur quickly joins her.  “I just–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain.  That Wilbur had felt like his job was to be a silent observer.  Maybe just a holdover from Limbo, even as Ghostbur, he’d never let himself engage fully.  He’s alive and better in so many ways, but not in every way.  “Yeah, I do,” is all he says, sitting cross legged in front of her, staring at his own hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Wil,” Niki laughs.  “I can’t paint your face if you’re not looking at me.”

“Right, right,” Wilbur looks up.

Niki goes to say something, before thinking better of it.  Wilbur doesn’t know why she’s holding back.  She’s more than within her rights to make fun of him for looking like a nervous tourist in his own home.

“Can I put stuff on your eyes too?  Like I did with Jack?”  Is what she says instead.

Wilbur manages a teasing tone, taking off his glasses.  “Er, well, maybe not on my eyes, but on my eye lids I might allow–”

Niki gives him a look, brushing her hand over his face, against his eyelashes, so he’ll close them.  “You know that’s what I meant.”

“Right then, okay,” Wilbur laughs softly.  He lets his eyes close.

“Bend closer.  You’re sitting down and you’re still too tall,” Niki’s hand on his shoulder makes him shift his posture to something probably not ideal for his spine.  Wilbur didn’t mind.  The brush against his eyelids almost made him jump, but Niki’s hand on his shoulder stays, it keeps him steady.

Tubbo and Tommy are not keeping still, each trying to paint the cheek of the other.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to do it one at a time–?”

“No, no we’re doing great,” Tommy dismisses it.  “Look, my hands are already gonna shake, this way yours do too so it’s even!”

Tubbo laughs, “yeah, alright, then.”

Tommy bites his tongue, trying to focus on the brush enough to make a straight line.  “Stop smiling!  It’s all crooked when you smile,” Tommy pouts.

“You’re not holding still either,” Tubbo’s brush taps him on the nose.

Tommy leans back, gasping in offense.  “How dare you!”

Tubbo sticks his tongue out at him.  “I told you we should’ve taken turns.”

"Fine, you sit still, I paint,” Tommy nods smartly.

“Don’t draw something weird.”

“Fine, fine, but I am gonna make a bee.  And I make no promises on how that will turn out,” Tommy could have easily chosen mischief, instead, on Tubbo’s left cheek, he tries.  His hands don’t look so badly scarred alongside Tubbo’s own scarred face.  They fit together so nicely, even if Tommy’s skills with a paintbrush could use some work.  It looks more like a fly than a bee, but it’s a yellow fly, so Tommy thinks that should count.

“Are you done?”

“No, no wait, I wanna make flowers to go with it,” Tommy says, searching for more paints.  “A blue one… and a white one.”

“Oh–“ Tubbo’s tone softens to something far more delicate.  “Oh,” a gentle ache resonates in his chest.

Tommy knows what he’s said.  He leans against Tubbo, who remains steady.  He knows exactly why Tubbo is looking at him like that.  Tommy exhales a laugh, teasing and gentle.  “Just thought I’d return the favor.”

“Tommy…”

“No.  Hush.  You’ll distract me,” Tommy says.

Tubbo relents, content to let Tommy have his way, Tommy close enough that he’s breathing in his face, but how could Tubbo ever mind?  Tommy is breathing.

“There we go!” Tommy leans back, satisfied.

Jack seems mildly bored, his part of the craft already done, he leans forward.  “That looks–”

“Amazing– why yes, thank you, Jack Manifold, you’re too kind!” Tommy cuts him off.

“Looks like just blobs on sticks.”

“Yeah, not sure if you’ve noticed but all flowers are are blobs on sticks,” Tommy pouts.

“Can I see?” Tubbo asks, fidgeting restlessly.

“Jack Manifold!” Tommy says like an announcement.

“What?” Jack replies wearily.

“Get the mirror!” Tommy commands him.

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll get it then,” Tommy clambers to his feet.

“Wait, no, you’re supposed to keep nagging me until I do it– sit back down, I’ve got it,” Jack waves him off.

Tommy settles, looking pleased.  “Aw, I’ve missed your charm, Jack.”

“Have you?” Jack says, teasing if not suspicious.  Tommy seems to mean it.

“Yeah, Jack Manifold, your charm.  No need to be so shocked,” Tommy rolls his eyes dramatically.  Since Tommy’s return, his snark had held less bite, but Jack almost felt relieved nowadays to find a Tommy that’s both snarky and joking again.

Niki remains focused only on Wilbur’s face as the rest of them chatter around her.  “Okay, done with the eyes!” She leans back, satisfied.

Wilbur opens them.  “What color did you put on them?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see, I still have to do the flag,” Niki searches for what’s left of the facepaint.  “Alright, tilt your head, pick a side,” she says.

Wilbur doesn’t need to shut his eyes for this part, but he’s glad he has to turn slightly away, so instead he can just watch the others rustling around the van.  Fundy has a flag on his cheek now, but Eret has also decided to add whiskers.  Fundy now painted Eret’s cheek with intent precision, the flag half finished.  Jack had joined Tommy and Tubbo, Tubbo whose right cheek had the flag, and his left a messy scene of flowers and bees that Wilbur could recognize as Tommy’s endearingly shoddy handiwork.  Wilbur hadn’t realized how much he had missed this.  He hadn’t even been sure if this was his to miss anymore, but somehow Wilbur feels like this makes sense.  All of it, including him being here.  Things had been unsure for so long, Wilbur can’t figure out when he lost this feeling, or if he ever had it.  Wilbur is nobody’s president nor hero nor villain nor martyr.  Instead, he just gets to sit and let Niki paint on his face.  It’s the only job Wilbur wants anymore.

Niki sits back, brushing her thumb gently across her handiwork, fixing up the edges.  “Good!  I think it’s done,” she smiles.

“What color is it, then?” Wilbur asks.

“Hold on, hold on– Jack, can I?” Niki leans away from him.

“Oh, Niki, I– I dunno,” Wilbur says hastily as she takes the mirror from Jack.

Niki stops, looking puzzled.  “Do you not want to see it?”

“No, I–”  Wilbur pauses, staring at her, glancing to the rest of them, none of whom pay him any mind.  He’s not a corpse anymore.  “Y-Yeah, yeah let me see.”

Wilbur says this, but he’s still looking at her, not at the mirror in front of her.  Wilbur had, with almost impressive conviction, avoided his own reflection devoutly for weeks.  He’s let himself remain trapped with nothing but a horrible distortion of his own dead face for a self image.  Wilbur has not seen his own face beyond a corpse in over a decade.  He’s scared that he will see his own face and find that nothing had changed.  If lucky enough not to see dead eyes, then maybe something worse; the cruel, dark expression of the man who had haunted Pogtopia until he could find a way to die bloody.  He doesn’t want that for himself anymore.  And he won’t get any better by looking away.

Wilbur looks at the mirror, at his own painted face.  And the first time he sees his reflection alive it is with Niki’s handiwork, her– maybe not her forgiveness, but her love, painted on his eyelids.

“It’s… It’s a sunrise,” Wilbur’s voice is hoarse and small and utterly in awe.

“Yeah!  You can’t really see all of it with your eyes open, of course, but I thought it suited you,” Niki beams.

Wilbur stares.  Blue that almost dusts his eyebrows, blended into a soft purple, to orange, to yellow.  Those colors resting on top of brown eyes.  Eyes not left glassy or out of focus or filmed over, eyes that have a soul behind them, eyes that crinkle up in the corner as he smiles.

“Thank you, Niki,” Wilbur’s hand brushes up to his own cheek, stopping himself before he could smudge the flag painted there.

“Wil!” Fundy breaks the spell, pulling Wilbur back into the room with them.  He has his guitar case.  “Where the hell did you find this, man?”

“Oh, uh, I-I mean I have it, yes, but I–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain.  Fundy has his guitar, he knows what sort of request happens next.

“I dug it up out of Pogtopia,” Tommy answers.  “I don’t think it’s in great shape, so.”  Yeah.  If it is the person who might play it, not the guitar itself.

Fundy takes the hint with surprising delicacy, putting it back. “It’s… It’s cool you have it again, Wil.”

Just from those words Wilbur knows no one here expects him to play.  Somehow that doesn’t make Wilbur feel relieved.  Tommy had defended him, because he knows as well as Wilbur does that this– all of it, it’s progress and that progress matters.  But things still aren’t what they once were and they never will be.  But there has to be a line, a delicate balance of finally moving forward and remembering, despite everything that’s changed from what was once their family, there was love there, and there is love here again, broken and repaired or maybe just changed, but love persevering.

~

Their plans for the evening are not a festival.  There will be no speeches or fireworks or decorations beyond the flags always hanging on the platforms of New L’Manberg.  Tommy had loosely described it as a party– and if he lets proximity be enough, a beach party.

Tommy’s only expectation had been a campfire like the ones they had back in the day, the invitations had been vague and unofficial, no set list merely word of mouth, the details hadn’t mattered, just something to push them all together.  They gather outside New L’Manberg, in the grass adjacent to the Camarvan, where it’s safe to have a fire.  Tommy puts down his jukebox just as the sun began to set.

He plays Cat.

The first to arrive make sense.  Phil and Ranboo merely cross the stream from New L’Manberg.  Then Quackity follows and where Quackity goes, Sapnap and Karl are never far behind.  Technoblade’s attendance is more of a surprise, him serving as a nervous shadow for Phil, the great Blood God felled by a social gathering.  Eret invited Foolish, Niki invited HBomb and Puffy.  Tommy had spur of the moment asked Sam and Ponk to come, it only felt right after what they’d done for him, and he couldn’t invite one without the other.  Tommy wasn’t sure how the Badlands found their way over, it could have been Sapnap or Sam or anyone else, but they come too.  And so on and on and so it goes.  It becomes such a messy web of friends and friends of friends but none of that really matters, because really Tommy is just triumphant in how utterly unalone they are.

Tommy stays close to Tubbo, and Wilbur close to Tommy, and Tommy finds himself drifting away from the Jukebox and Cat and that doesn’t scare him anymore.  Maybe he shouldn’t be so trusting, or maybe it’s not even a matter of trust.  Tommy is tired of being scared.  And whoever there’s left for him to mistrust is overshadowed in those who will protect him.

Wilbur used to always find himself at the center.  He talked well and he talked loud and people would listen.  He was charming and confident and he would let the world focus on him just a bit more sharply.  Wilbur doesn’t know anymore.  He likes to be there.  He likes to listen, and he likes it when other people look at him when he speaks, because he’s really there, but it’s been harder for him to find anything worth saying.

So eventually he both retreats and pushes himself a little further.  He goes back into the Camarvan and returns with a guitar case.  Now they gravitate in on him, Wilbur Soot with a guitar and all the magnetism of a black hole, people take notice.  Just like they used to and if that doesn’t fill Wilbur with the excited, terrified static of being alive, he doesn’t know what will.

Tommy looks away for a minute and Wilbur has his guitar again, startling sure, but for a moment Tommy feels both hopeful and almost hurt, but Wilbur isn’t playing it, Tommy hasn’t missed his brother's glorious return.  He’s sat by the fire, holding it just out of the case, but not nestled neatly against his chest like it usually would be.  He’s not getting ready to play.  He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it.  Already people are looking his way, curious.  Tommy is going to get there first.

Tommy taps Tubbo on the arm, nodding in Wilbur’s direction.  Tubbo follows his gaze and for a moment he lights up, but he sees as well as Tommy that Wilbur seems stuck.   Wordlessly an understanding is exchanged, Tubbo nods, and they join him by the fire.

Tommy is on Wilbur’s right side.  “Alright?”  He asks him.

Wilbur stares at those gathered around him.  And he cannot bring himself to move.  He wants this.  He wants to play again.  He just doesn’t think he can, so instead, he speaks.

“Quackity.”

“What?” Quackity stares at him from across the fire, looking startled.  “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

Wilbur stands, and offers him the guitar.  “I’m… a little rusty.  Would you do the honors?”

Quackity hesitates for another moment, brown eyes careful if not understanding as he accepts it.  He understands, maybe not personally, but he knows the weight of the thing as he takes the guitar from Wilbur’s hands.  “Yeah, yeah sure.  Uh.  What am I playing?”

“Come on, Big Q, you know what to play,” Tommy says.

The anthem.  If Tommy is singing too, this Wilbur can manage.  And it’s not just Tommy.  It’s not just L’Manberg, at least not just as Wilbur knows it.  Tommy and Wilbur meet each other’s gaze, each with the same startled contentment and pride.  Tommy hadn’t realized how many people knew the anthem either.

The rest of the night comes easily, a gentle thing.  Tommy is happy.  That had been the point of it all, surely.  This moment, late at night, old friends and friends of friends leaving after time spent willingly and wasted joyfully, it’s exactly what Tommy had wanted.  Tommy had gotten what he wanted.  It's almost more surprising that that doesn’t seem so strange to him anymore.

Their numbers dwindle.  Tubbo, Ranboo, Phil, and Techno are still in New L’Manberg, talking under the glow of the lanterns, but Tommy and Wilbur are the last to stay by the dying fire.

Tubbo isn’t far, neither are their other close friends, but they’re not here.  Not within this moment between two brothers who kept living; who kept living and wanted to keep living, even if they took the long way round to get to this point.  Quackity had returned the guitar, not to its case, but very deliberately to Wilbur’s unsure hands before he left.  Wilbur hasn’t set it down.  He’s no longer holding it like it’s a bomb, it’s resting in front of his torso.  All he needs to do is put his hands on the strings.

“Hey, Wil?” Tommy watches as Wilbur stares into the fire, unfocused.

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“Do you want to play?”

Wilbur glances over at him, not surprised by the question, not really.  He’s maybe more surprised by how sure he is in his own answer.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods.  “But you can’t.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and– and I don’t think it’s about deserve,” Wilbur is rambling and emphatic in an instant, like he’s just been waiting for the right push, talking more to the fire than to him.  “I don’t think– It’s not that I don’t deserve to play it, and in Limbo I couldn’t because… because there was no one to listen, so it just hurt, and now I just– I actually… I…”

“Hey, we’ll figure this out,” Tommy is so steady.

Wilbur takes a breath, the heat of the fire, the brightness of it, overwhelming and comforting at the same time.  “You don’t know how to play the guitar.”

“Yeah.  You do.”

Wilbur laughs, almost embarrassed.  “That’s the thing, isn’t it?”  A pause, Tommy just waits.  “It’s gonna sound different.  No matter how much I remember, a-and I know it’s because I’m out of practice, and not practicing isn’t going to help, but it’s not gonna sound right.”  It feels like such a ridiculous thing, yes, Wilbur playing the guitar for the first time in over a decade will not sound right.

Tommy doesn’t judge him, he doesn’t tease him or tell him to just try, but he doesn’t give up on him either.  Wilbur never gave up on him.

“Could you show me?” Tommy asks.

“What?”

“Show me,” Tommy nods to the guitar.  “I want you to show me how to play.  A demonstration.  Come on, I’ve wanted you to show me for ages now.”  A pause, Tommy giving Wilbur a moment to reply.  He still hesitates.  “Please?  Come on, I’m giving you my best puppy dog eyes, you have to say yes!”

Wilbur stares at him, putting on an exasperated front, even as Tommy makes all of this easier for him.  He knows Tommy won’t quit and no matter how unsure he is, he’s grateful.  Wilbur looks down.  It’s almost like watching someone else at first, hands still so naturally finding their proper place.  He plays.

Wilbur knows hes not playing it well, that he’s all but forgotten how, but the look on Tommy’s face when he watches him, radiant and joyful and so amazed by whatever Wilbur manages, it makes him want to try again.

It’s bad and messy and hesitant and it’s the most amazing thing Tommy has ever heard.  He never thought he’d hear this again, his brother fumbling with the strings, but playing nonetheless.  Fuck symphonies.  His brother is alive.  He’s home.  Tommy has known for a long time now he deserves a kinder world, they deserve a kinder world, but what they deserve doesn’t matter, deserve is a feeble game, a set of rules for dead men.  Tommy is tired of cruel games and stupid rules.  He wanted his brother, he wanted to feel okay again.  And here he is, resting easy just outside the Camarvan, not in the L’Manberg, but a L’Manberg that has stood up out of the ashes and breathed again right alongside them, just as scarred and changed and just as alive.  He got what he wanted.

The notes fade, almost as unsteady as when they began, and they’re left with the dim crackle of the fire, crickets and cicadas like an endless applause, and just faintly, the gentle hum of voices of other people they love just across the water.

Wilbur looks at his brother and can't help but feel honored to be worth whatever look Tommy is giving him right now.  “So, uh, not too bad?”

“Nah,” Tommy says, his efforts at being blasé are weakened by the way he’s looking at Wilbur, the kind of awe that only a little brother can have.  “Not too bad at all.”  Tommy sounds so proud.   “Play it–”  The light has not faded from behind his eyes, blue standing out against the darkness.  “Play it again?”

Wilbur does as Tommy asks.  He keeps going.

#ha. took me over a month. but here we are. 13k words of nothing but sappy peace #thank you all so much for this experience #hope you like the ending <3 #my writing #tddd

[ryttu3k]

BG3 progress! Last couple of sessions - getting a new addition for the camp library in a herbalist's cellar, and having a nice explore of some perfectly benign Sunlit Wetlands!

Had an interesting moment when they were in the apothecary, about to head into the cellar. Gale got hit by the Arcane Hunger bane, doubled over, and immediately ran outside (followed by Lae'zel). Still grouped up, it was just Gale specifically who removed himself from the rest of the group??

I mean if he was going to like... blow up, just going outside wouldn't do it, but it's like. He didn't want the others to see. And that growing relationship between Gale and Lae'zel came into play, too.

Went on down, fought the zombies. Made the discovery that the armour I gave Wyll didn't allow for spellcasting because it was too heavy, so... well...

Hey, needs must!

Got the book. It's kind of interesting how suitable it is that Astarion is the one to pick it up, given that he'd usually be the one disarming the trap on it. I actually did try having Tae pick it up instead, and Astarion immediately offered to take it instead, then got pissed off when they tried to destroy it (I reloaded the save), so yeah, I think it's his now. Plus he was the one doing the sneaking to get the amethyst, so I may just have to do a lot of save scumming to pass those checks XD;;

Relatedly:

Down south and into the swamps. Honestly I think this is the first time Astarion looks genuinely, truly scared, and I think the others notice too, and I think he notices that they notice. Yeah, it's not the hunter himself, but Cazador? That shit is haunting him. It's only been days away from him, compared to two hundred years.

Yeah, he throws in a joke. He's still genuinely afraid ;_;

A mild diversion for some attempted murder! Always fun to spice up camp life. And, later:

I love them.

Baa'd at Redcap. Got approval from Astarion and Karlach <3 Aside from feeding the baby owlbear, are there any other points where they both approve of something?

Please don't.

You know what, I bet.

Mirror conversation my beloved <3 Amused that Tae 2.0 got options for every companion - Tae 1.0 only got Karlach and Shadowheart. Don't think it was linked to approval, either, since their highest relationships were still with Gale and Wyll, and Karlach was in the single digits? Either way, did exactly the same this run, picking Karlach, getting approval and all.

Anyway. Already dumped all my thoughts/feelings/general yelling on the mirror scene in the link above, so in conclusion, centuries-old vampire said 🥺

The baby has returned <3

Just to cap it off, returned to the Selunite Outpost marker, venturing out just long enough to grab Phalar Aluve. Gotta respec Tae to give them proficiency in longswords, I think, the sword is literally dedicated to Eilistraee. Do druids generally use longswords? No not really. Does my Eilistraee-worshipping drow druid use a longsword? Well shit they do now. How different can it be to a big stick, right? :D;;

(Slowly been researching all I can about Drow and the like. Idea I have so far is 3/4 of Tae's grandparents were part of a group of Eilistraee followers who made it up to the surface. One ended up marrying and starting a family with a Wood Elf, which is where Tae got their eye colour from. Was raised Church of Eilistraee, also started following the Church of Silvanus when they started studying as a druid. Anyway. Point is. I want Tae to have that sword.)

Current approvals: Lae'zel 32, Astarion 35, Shadowheart 53, Karlach 70, Wyll 92, Gale 94. Next up: exploring the Underdark, and Tae being So Uncomfy because this is their people doing Deeply Shitty Things even if they're surface and have never been involved personally!

#ry plays bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

[scarletooyoroi]

Y'know..

The Raiden family really just seem to have an attachment with wood out here.

Looking at this proper with more reflection (as I often do in lore bits.) That age old question of what kind of youkai could the Makoto and Ei be I feel like it's been answered. I don't believe that they are despite being divine beings.

I believe this piece of lore from the Sumeru Wind Glider wound up locking in on the angle that they're beings fashioned divine figures from Irminsul's wood. Not an Irminsul avatar like the overall in Nahida's case, but beings that still came from the same construct. This includes the Wanderer too!

Since this story here tells of a tale about three of the seven archons at the time! Of Venti, Zhongli and Makoto respectively. (Seeing how Ei became a shut in post cataclysm. Not exactly time for any connecting to be made then.)

So I wanna dive deeper in seeing some credence in this aspect. This will be talking about Makoto, Ei and the Wanderer in general. It'll be tacked under the read more since it'll be picture filled.

I want to begin with trying to piece together how this can be. Exactly where would you catch glimpses of this? I'd like to pose Makoto at the forefront first and the bits of history reflected

How it looks like she showed hints of being made from the Irminsul altogether with this ending scene.

Her will penultimately took the form of this very seed that comes to make the Sacred Sakura we see in the modern days. (Through some time hops but I digress.) It's within this we can see that throughout Ei's archon quest, it also holds the similar functions as the Irminsul itself in being part of the grand network of the Ley Lines, even down to that informational extent that we've seen.

Except in the case of the Sacred Sakura, it's not an intel network of all the Teyvat's knowledge and history. What Makoto created was simply a stopgap measure to ensure that filth grated from the fallen in Inazuma wouldn't cause horrific damage. Still, it retained the ability to store the memories within the branches and roots for safekeeping.

HOWEVER! It did succeed in doing a similar act to the Irminsul.

It rewrote the history of Teyvat for everyone but Ei in their minds (She was in chaotic space at the time, so out of the flow); that the Sacred Sakura was an entity that always existed within Inazuma's long running history.

So it captures interest in my viewpoint on how Makoto's death succeeded in creating this. She didn't die within Teyvat, as Ei took her dying consciousness and got it settled within the chaotic space via the torii gate portal, a technique learned courtesy of Yae Miko that opened the grounds to a lot what we see in the story. So there's a natural connection between the Raidens and the wood element itself.

That said! This also helps shed light upon another aspect. Out of the many cases we've seen in Teyvat, death is often final, yet. The Raidens share a unique story with each other, I'd like to introduce this aspect from this excerpt from the 'Treasured Tales' book you can get from Yae's light novel shelves.

This is even further corroborated on by Ei's own accounts of the matter.

From these excerpts, I'd like to take how this becomes part of the origin point for when we excel time to the Post-Cataclysm instance. Where Ei's grief has taken her extremely heavy and led her not only to dark corners, but to hidden bouts of wisdom too. What I believe she discovered in this dark period was the same means Makoto utilized in order to reforge her body once again.

Even if we know that god corpses are usually a very final instance of them being removed from the plane altogether (outside of malicious divine rot.) So let's introduce some pieces of what happened in Ei's process of experimenting with this reforging process.

I believe this very technique that she discovered was from Makoto's own belongings. As we've learned in the Archon quest, there was a lot that Makoto didn't share with Ei, out of both concern, and truly wanting to take her time instilling the life lessons of transience to her. The Cataclysm however had put an abrupt stop to long term plans, and in return, led to what we see today within the said quest.

Inevitably, a lot of what Makoto learned throughout her life outside of combat was passed on to Ei. That even includes the ability to draw around the consciousness of a being and placing them within objects, bodies. It was no coincidence that Yae Miko managed to learn this particular ability over time.

For she was personally attached to Makoto by the hip from the looks of these olden days. Unlike Makoto however, Ei didn't find herself at a point of mastering it as effectively as her sister seemingly did.

And to add further fuel, her experiments were to make a puppet and not a being given a genuine breathe of life, only an robotic being that could execute orders similar to how she viewed Eternity. (She no longer had to worry in her mind by being a spirit without Musou Isshin with meditation in terms of Erosion.) However, within both times we see with the puppet Shogun and the Wanderer, she failed in that pursuit. That spirit of humanity/life still breathes strong within them.

But now! This is where things get a little interesting. Speaking of the Wanderer, we've learned a VERY interesting detail to help tether this all together when it comes the 3.3 Archon Quest involving him.

In many ways, it just add to that irony that the Wanderer went back to his source to rid of himself.

Within Genshin, whenever a white or silver tree is ever talked about from our current knowledge. It only points towards the Irminsul itself.

Drawing onto the discussion about his existence. I believe his lack of knowing where his roots stemmed from outside of Raiden Ei creating him is what led to a lot of his strife. Through the lens of humanity, through the lens of divinity, the Wanderer was on a hunt for heart and in many ways, I believe to just know exactly what he is . The way he talks about humanity and the divine always gave me the impression that he feels alienated from them.. as if by some root deep instinct, he understood that he wasn't neither one of these things one for one.

While holding divine origins and power befitting of his creation, that never stopped the emptiness of never having these answers.

This guides me to the idea that he doesn't know the full details when it comes to the basis of his birth, something that only guidance by Ei could've provided to begin with.

So in the end. I believe it was Makoto's understanding of their roots that led to quite the complicated tale following what transpired in what we witness in Genshin's storyline. Annd that's it!

If you made it down this far, holy fuck you're the GOAT. I just wanted to get this angle out of my mind after reading up on this.

#| OOC Musings #| Genshin Meta #man my head went on a RIDE lol

[teafairywithabook]

Missing Magic - Part 1 of an Avior WIP

I have more written, but after this it goes 2 ways and I haven't decided yet which way I'm going. I've mostly written both, and they're very different.

Summary: Set after Taking The Time To Consider Your Demon’s Words. Starlight is doing just that, and decides they have and need to talk to Avior again.

Red dust scuffed up around Starlight’s feet. They had been wandering a while. Mindless and directionless, they had been walking for hours. Starlight had a lot to think about and had been going through a huge range of emotions, ranging from sadness, to pity, to rage and everything in between. Part of them hoped Avior remained unaware of them, and a small part hoped he knew what he had put them through. 

The nature of the trap had prevented them from becoming tired. At some point they had found themselves back at the room where they sat for a while, on the bed. Starlight refused to look up at the sky of stars, not wanting to see that reminder of Avior right now. It was enough that he had conjured it for them when they had been injured, but now remembering that wasn’t even the first time they had seen it Starlight felt bereft of all the things they didn’t know. Feeling heavy inside, they decided it was time to talk. 

 Starlight took the long way back round to the campfire. It gave them time to consider what to say exactly and they definitely weren’t procrastinating - maybe. They knew they could call Avior’s name and he would come to them, and gladly, but they didn’t like the way the thought of summoning him made them feel. A little superior. The thought of a campfire sounded nice anyway, soothing. Starlight wondered what the circumstances were that led to them showing Avior that particular part of their life. It certainly sounded like something they would do, a fire always relaxed them. Making patterns out of the flames, the warmth on their skin and roasting marshmallows or making S’mores. The smell that would be on their hair, a smokey reminder for later. 

As Starlight rounded the rocky outcropping and the campfire came into view, they could see the popping wood, the reassuring flames and the smoke as if they were in Elegy. Starlight swallowed back a lump in their throat as the memory of evenings camping with friends manifested themselves in their memory.

END PART 1

Now the question I have to answer is whether Starlight finds Avior at the campfire or not. I've sort of got both ends mostly written and they have very different outcomes. So, does this get a part 2?

#redactedverse #redacted fanfic #redacted asmr #Redacted Avior #redacted starlight #avior x starlight

[museguided]

[ INVITE ] receiver walks into sender’s room hoping to crawl in bed with them. (To Mika. Orphanage days? :3)

SOFT ACTION PROMPTS

[ INVITE ] receiver walks into sender’s room hoping to crawl in bed with them.

As attached as they were, it came as no surprise that the children would seek each other out when they're feeling troubled, bored, or lonely. Their family was all they had in the world and they did everything together. The younger ones relied on and looked up to the older kids more often than the staff that looked after them. Of course, it wasn't only limited to daytime hours. More often than not, Mika woke up to someone curled at his side or jostling him awake for an important matter. He didn't mind it. It was all part of being their ideal family and he would do anything for any of them.

However, Mika had never been the one looking to be comforted. Not until this night, when the heavy rain, howling winds, and rolling thunder did all they could to keep him restless. Hours of tossing and turning wouldn't help him find sleep. When he slipped from his bed to traverse across the hall, he intended to get himself a glass of water. So when his feet brought him to a stop outside a closed door, he merely blinked at the wood in mild confusion.

It gave him pause for thought; being the same age as him, Yuu was always posturing in front of him, unwilling to cry or show vulnerability where he thought Mika would see him. While Mika usually had an idea or heard about it from someone else, he wondered if Yuu would appreciate the company or slam the door in his face if Mika was the one to seek him out.

That was his reason to open the door and peek his head inside, curious eyes adjusted to the dark just well enough to make out a blanket-covered lump on the bed. A cool draft made him shiver, ushering him through to the bedside, where he placed his hands against the sheets to lean over in attempt to see Yuu's face. "Pssst, Yuu-chan," he whispered, prodding at the lump, "are you sleeping?"

#secondtrumphet #(ic. mikaela hyakuya) #(ask. games) #(mika: this is for yuu's sake not my own) #(I wasn't sure how to wrap it up without Yuu's input tbh #(he's gonna be accepted without issue or he's going to bully yuu until he is; either way he's sleeping here T^T) #(queued. offline)

[the-firebird69]

Part 1 - It begins! Harley Street 500 to 750 Upgrade

The reason Harley-Davidson makes them so big is because they provide some beef to the mechanism which actually makes it work longer and better and they Outlast most of the Japanese bikes even the ones with high performance steel but the ones that make a little bit bigger work better than these two and they're still way too big they're too heavy. You can see this transmission is gigantic it's just a clutch and it's huge it's about one half the size of a car and people are amazed when they see it this will fit into the HK one but it will not fit into the toy or a child's Enduro and it won't because it's way too big but they're looking forward to the next size up and his son says you have to at least have the go-kart for Christmas and he's going to try and do it it's only days away and people are chomping at the bit to get this go-kart and it's a single cedar but it's a little wider and you can lighten it and and put a drop on on and you'll have a mini and the mini Lamborghini works on it no there are several cars that do one of them is the raser Tesla and it's made for the street it's a prototype and Tesla wants to put it out there as a drop on. We are proving this idea and we're getting him assistance and people to help work with him on this thing and I'm signing my people and he's assigning his and he says we have to have people do it and so they're getting people together and she is too and asking from the other side of the family and they're moving out right now this is for children and we need it now this would be a great dirt bike it's going to be like an old fashioned one on the fairings and fenders won't be that big but they're going to be like a radio flyer and not a metal it's not really that safe but it does deflect rocks better and it is going to be smaller but it's going to be really cool looking the old fashioned bikes look cool and they're fun and it has power and for a child it's going to have gears to be for 8 to 12 and that's how you all the child will be and a lot of 5 year olds and others will ride it but and it's probably going to make it into the racing circuit people love this kind of bike they adore it and Harley-Davidson will start making it it's going to be cool you're going to be amazed how cool this is and it's RTA it's exactly what father's want to do for Christmas and we're going to go ahead and help our son here

Thor Freya

Olympus

You can make just about anything and your kids are amazed later and they say there's so much care and joy putting it together that you ask me for help make sure you doing it right and I'm helping and watching and you're catching on and starting to work a lot better and you make like four of them and they're one more to make and you got real tired and there are two girls and two boys and the last one was a girl so I started putting it together and you're watching me you found out you do similar stuff and we went out to sleep and we both fell asleep and slept all night and we almost didn't get the stockings done now we had them ready so we put them out and they were asleep already and we woke up we went in and they were decimated they ripped everything apart and it's so much joy and so much fun and you talk well at Christmas it was great they're saying it I'm saying it too this is going to be great I can't wait they went down and the bikes were under the tree. They couldn't believe it and opened them up no I took the bow off and asked if they could ride it inside and you're saying I don't see why not and they were not electric so I said no they're not electric you have to write them outside and you let out this big roar of a laugh and they're almost afraid and said she never lets me get away with stuff and the guys are like yeah that's right so out there riding around and he said I wonder where the other counterparts are and they came out of the woods with their bikes it was intense I've never seen anything like this they have little BMX bikes so they know how to ride and they came up and they're looking at them and riding around just unbelievable fun

We have little minis and we got on them but we're still huge so like how are you going to ride around with us and why are you so huge said your babies and said we're not babies anymore and they're like 8 ft but they're still young now it's when they're young and but we're huge so it's a little confusing to them not too confusing and they're going to grow up and they think they're just babies but they're special and they start to feel it

On this very day Christmas Day

Hera

Zues

We thank you both very much and we're looking forward to this and we can't believe what's happening here there's too much going on and it's crazy but this is happening now too and we're going to help and he wants us on the assignment and ask us and then ask her he's usually asking her a Hera first and really this is great

Savage opress

We approve the idea Olympus

#Youtube