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#traffic life ficlets
a-sky-of-diamonds · 1 year
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Does it seem familiar?
Waking up in a world with 13 other players, thinking nothing of them, at first. Running around alone, untied, unfettered, until a single choice binds you to a single person. but you now run around knowing how it ends, knowing of the inevitable red that will spread and then spill, knowing that now and more because of the ticking clock within your chest. but you now wake knowing that one of the players, the very one you would think of, is missing; and now you bind yourself because of an offer, rather than a debt. 
Taking up the role of protector. Bodyguard. Hand. Different words acting as shells around an essence of the same meaning; a meaning you never thought you’d apply to yourself, now worn with pride twice. but now you’re the one with less time on the the clock. but now the person you protect is in danger because of how much life he has, not how little.
Does it seem familiar? 
In just a few hours, chaos unfolding. Lives being lost; friends being hunted; and, when everything reaches its lowest point, the person you pledged your life to protect asking you to do the impossible. but this time it’s a resort, not a request. but this time it’s to give to you, not than to take from others. but this time it’s to bring peace rather than wage war.
...Does it seem familiar?
(And it’s the sea, not the land. A resort rather than a fortress, a duo rather than an army, a show from the 90s rather than a medieval war. But these are just different guises acting as shells around an essence of the same meaning; of the same actions, repeating over and over again.
And yet-
To offer, not to pay. To protect purely from compassion, not with necessity. To give, not take. For peace. 
...These events, you think, are like a shard of glass tossed into the sea. The essence is there and will always be, but the sharp edges are dulled by time and saltwater. They become softer. Smoother. Their core remains, and yet the harshness is lost to days the gone by.)
(Except there’s something else. Time may dull rough edges, but time is not the only force acting here. Just as sharp shards can be smoothed, smooth stones can be sharpened. 
After every winter, there comes a spring.
The thrill to kill the fleeting gill.
Always remember: the world is not kind. And if it is, it’s not very interesting to Watch.)
--
Or, in other words:
A single day/And then it’s gone
Doomed to repeat/Our will be done.
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peppered-moths · 1 year
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i think that the majorwood dynamic this season is going to be about fate. subverting fate, specifically.
think about it: they’re both known for breaking the rules of the series. a green killing reds, a boogeyman refusing to kill at all. they break the rules, but only one of them has ever succeeded.
martyn doesn’t understand it. they’ve played the same games, walked the same invisible lines, but scott always comes out on top. he gets a happy afterlife, a sacrifice that means something. he gets to win.
why do martyn’s sacrifices never mean anything? he dies at the feet of the king he couldn’t save, fights to the end and dies anyways. he gets broken up with! he doesn’t understand.
so it must be fate. martyn should just let go, let the tides of destiny take him where they will. and yet. and yet.
he partners with scott out of curiosity, he tells himself. he wants to know what makes fate (and the Ones that pull the strings) so fond of him. he learns very quickly they aren’t.
the truth is this: scott doesn’t give a damn about destiny. he does whatever he wants to, lives in the moment because, really, what else is there? martyn aches. he thinks it might be jealousy. he knows it’s not.
he thinks scott is moonlight; ephemeral, beautiful, doomed. he grins at martyn and tells him cheerfully that fate shouldn’t dictate his choices. martyn thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t follow fate. martyn thinks a lot of things about scott.
martyn comes trudging back to the coral isles one day and sees two familiar heads. scott and pearl. they have their feet in the water, heads leaned close together, like they’re sharing a private joke, like they weren't at each others' throats last season. a moment later, pearl snickers, and their peals of laughter ring across the ocean.
scott’s laugh sounds like sunlight. his eyes are beautiful.
this could be… a problem.
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antevault · 7 months
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joel sees martyn standing frozen at the edge of the battlefield. a wither and a warden have rampaged the land and the threat is very much still alive, but it’s so much. too much to process all at once. the sounds and screams and blood and wither rose petals scattered across the rubble— it’s a cacophony, and martyn is trapped Watching.
but joel sees him. joel cries out.
“Martyn— stay away, Martyn! We can’t lose another person!”
martyn can’t listen. joel maneuvers himself between martyn and the wither until the death blow is dealt and the danger passes.
grian and etho recount the tale. they laugh. they laugh. all of them, while martyn stands numb with shock and thinks of a chest with three bones inside and nothing more. nothing ever again.
all that remains of his fellow reds are grayed out names on a tab list.
martyn closes his eyes and makes a silent promise.
+
joel is no fool. he loves lizzy but her decision to ostracize herself and make enemies spelled doom long ago. meanwhile, joel has done what he rarely ever succeeds in: making allies that last longer than a few days in this wretched place. scar turned on him the moment he fell from grace in last life. etho’s attachment was artificial from the beginning in double life. the bad boys were a true bond, though he knew better, even then, than to ever trust grian completely. and jimmy—
—he can’t think about jimmy.
now, he has the mounders. pearl, and bdubs, and… mumbo. right. someone should go back to his base, collect his things before the scavengers come sniffing about. make a memorial, maybe. sideways. he’d like that.
but that just leaves pearl and bdubs, and joel can feel their eyes prickling the back of his neck. waiting. watching. an opportunity is all it will take for them to turn; pearl made her preferences clear, and joel can’t grudge her for it. he was a late addition to the mounders, after all. but that still leaves him cast out and alone in a server full of paranoid lunatics armed to the teeth.
he couldn’t let martyn join the ranks of the dead. it was too much. one more roll of thunder may have split joel’s mind like overripe watermelon and left him dripping and scattered all over the server.
maybe— maybe there’s room, up in that doghouse, for an ally. maybe martyn will take him in and let him rest somewhere he won’t have to keep one eye open. martyn could surely use the extra protection as he adjusts to being the only red for the first time in his existence.
joel has felt that sting before.
and stray dogs stick together.
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solsearchingnights · 1 year
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“You have to say it back.”
Jimmy hated the feeling of his hand on his sword hilt. “Thirty seconds.”
Scott’s face went from playful to confused. “Say ‘love you’ back.”
I am. “Thirty seconds.” His heart broke as he could read the thoughts crossing his husband’s face. Scott was trying to figure out if this was betrayal. So was Jimmy.
“I gave you a Pufferish of Peace, Jimmy. You have to say–”
This place wasn’t safe for that fish, and it wasn’t safe for Scott. “Someone took it. I lost it.” Even then, Scott’s eyes were hopeful. Jimmy drew his sword. “Thirty seconds, Scott.” He didn’t want to do this. He was supposed to want the bloodshed. It should be easy to lunge forward, bury his blade in the chest of the man with so much time just in front of him. But his arm felt leaden, and he was nauseated at the thought. He hoped that Scott could see the desperation in his eyes, before he remembered the sunglasses.
Scott stumbled back, scales glittering in the sun. “Yeah, okay.” And he ran.
Jimmy could feel the trust between them snap as Scott fled. He pinched the bridge of his nose, surprised to find tears on his skin. We’ll fix it later. We always do. And maybe that would be true later.
But right now? Jimmy was alone on a bridge in the sky, and he was protecting someone he loved by threatening his life. They might fix it later, but right now, it hurt.
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sharffffff · 7 months
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"Wait, what?" Joel had to double back and check the player list after seeing the most recent message in chat talking about holding a funeral for Jimmy. He was afraid he had somehow missed the loud explosion noise that happens whenever someone dies, that Jimmy had somehow managed to be the first one out again - and don't start on that whole curse thing, curses don't exist, they're not real and believing in them is only setting yourself up for failure - and he somehow managed to miss it.
But no, Jimmy was still there, a beautiful red name allowing him the freedom to do anything he wanted. The temptation to just die and turn into the red name to kill Scott was very present right now, and after he was done with Scott, he could move onto someone else- but that was not the point right now. The point was - there was a funeral being held for a man who was still alive, a man who was his best friend.
If this was about that blumming curse again, he was afraid he was going to lose it. The curse didn't exist, and if everyone else on this server was burying Jimmy alive just because they had already proclaimed him dead - he wasn't going to let this happen. If Jim can't stand up for himself, Joel was sure he would have to do that instead.
As Joel arrived at spawn, everyone was gathered around Jimmy surrounded by a bunch of dirt blocks and acting as if he was already dead.
"Why are we having a funeral?" Joel already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear someone say it, so he could go on at them that believing in curses was stupid.
Instead, however, his question was answered by only two people - Jimmy, who also didn't know the reason for this, and Scott, who claimed that it was because they wanted to give Jimmy a chance what it was like to attend a funeral, as he never had a chance to before.
Curse wasn't mentioned once, so Joel couldn't say what he wanted to say - well, he would disrupt this entire thing either way.
"That's not very nice" was his quiet reply, not noticed by almost anyone except Jimmy, who it was directed at, as some type of consolation of having to go through this, and right after saying this Joel turned away from everyone but his boy, his best friend, his brother, Jimmy, and dug him out of the ground, helping him rise from the symbolic ashes:
"Arise!" Joel hoped that at least this little gesture, this showcase that there was someone on this server who actually cared about Jim would help him get over his whole obsession with this curse and actually believe in himself. That was the only way he could survive longer, because Joel was certain that only reason Jim kept dying first was due to giving up, due to thinking the curse would still take him over.
Well, screw that, if the rest of the server is to be believed Jim has already died and is now alive anew, so he was already first to die in their eyes - and therefore free from this "curse", therefore able to live out his life just fine without that weight of doubt over his shoulders.
"Thank you, Lord Joel! Thank you! Now, let's kill everybody, starting with Scott!" Jimmy has finally sprung into action, back to his old cheerful self, no longer being buried alive out of his own will, even if protesting it the entire way.
Joel laughed, partly because he wished to join him in the slaughter, but mostly because he was happy with Jim finally being free from his self-imposed "curse". He was so ready to lose himself, to give up, that he willfully walked into his open grave, and Joel was afraid that if he hadn't stepped in, he would've stayed there forever.
Now, though, Jim was free to go, free from his "curse", and hopefully confident enough in himself to survive for a little longer. Joel knew that he wasn't ready to lose him. Not yet. Not again. So if his little act of kindness helped him survive just a little bit longer, Joel was happy.
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theinfinitemoo · 8 months
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could i get some platonic ranchers fluff? im so obsessed with them theyre so Silly
The following was written by Moo 🐮
Jimmy looked up as the last rays of sunlight began to dip below the mountainous skyline.
He’d spent the morning building a new barn for their new animals and the afternoon was spent painstakingly moving the disobedient creatures inside. 
Now looking up and stretching properly for the first time in hours Jimmy noticed how cold and tired he was. He’d only really had a break at midday after finishing the barn and it was at least 7pm now. 
He stretched again and after making sure there weren’t any holes in the new barn by which anything could escape he wandered back towards the ranch.
As he approached he could hear Tango humming and clattering around inside. He smiled softly and opened the door.
Tango was in the process of making dinner when he heard Jimmy come in. 
“Hey Rancher” Jimmy rubs his boots on the mat before entering. “Hello” Tango replies walking over and placing a kiss on Jimmys cheek “I haven’t seen you all day, what have you been doing?”.
Jimmy flushes slightly at the kiss and goes to sit down on the worn sofa. “I’ve replaced the old barn” Tango moved over to the avian, handing him a bowl of pasta as he sat down.
“Well done, you must be exhausted” The blaze smiled softly at his soulmate, whose nose and hands were pink from the sudden warmth of the Ranch. 
Jimmy nodded too hungry to answer as he ate his pasta, Tango was possibly one of the best cooks he'd ever met. 
In no time at all they’d finished their pasta and Tango collected up the bowls and began washing up despite Jimmy's protests.
“You’ve been working hard all day and I enjoy the washing up” 
The avian sat back down on the sofa and shivered “Are you cold, songbird?” 
Jimmy blushed again at the nickname “A bit, it's alright though I'll warm up soon” he answered as he began rubbing his hands on his jeans to try and get some feeling in them.
Tango wandered over, leant down and picked Jimmy up, an impressive feat as he was a good deal shorter than the brown eyed male, Jimmy squealed and wiggled “What are you doing!?” and then he stopped as he felt warmth spread through his body.
“Is that better, songbird?” the shorter smirked down at Jimmy who had closed his eyes. 
“Mhm, how are you doing that?” Jimmy asked softly, eyes still closed. 
Tango laughed “I’m a blaze hybrid, it's one of my many talents” he began to carry Jimmy upstairs.
Before long Jimmy was being gently lowered into their shared bed, his eyes flickered open as Tango's arms moved away. 
Sleepily he reached out for his soulmate who chuckled “In a minute songbird, I’m getting our pajamas”.
Tango returned in a few minutes with both of their pajamas as well as a toothbrush and glass of water. After changing and brushing his teeth, Jimmy grabbed Tango's hand and pulled him down onto the bed. 
Tango smiled and flushed as Jimmy wrapped his hands around his waist and buried his head beneath his neck. 
“G’night Rancher” Jimmy muttered sleepily. “Night Night Songbird”. And they both fell into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's arms. 
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They are never leaving the desert.
It isn’t just because they once lived there. It isn’t just because they once died there.
The desert holds memories, and no matter what, the two of them always seem to remember it, falling back into old habits. It’s the way Scar willingly offers him his own lifeforce, a reversal of the past without the stakes. It’s the way Grian tries to warn him of danger, despite the fact they are no longer allies. It’s the way they’re stuck together, tied by fate and shared wounds. It’s the way Grian mistakenly shouts Scar’s name to the wrong person, as if he’s about to lose him again, only to take it back as a force of habit. It’s the way Scar sings songs to him and apologizes for the blood on his hands, echoes of a past long gone. It’s the way they become traitors to each other, with hesitancy or with none. It’s the way Grian repeats the phrase “I’m sorry, Scar” over three lives. It’s the way Scar falls to Grian’s hands. It’s the way Grian comes crashing down. It’s echoes of the past, a friendship molded in desert sand.
Echoes, because history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes. They find themselves locked in a cycle where they meet, they have their little dance, and then they fall. There is no way to return to the past, and yet it still grips them both. Why does it do so?
They couldn’t escape each other even if they wanted to. Despite everything, a string of fate still connects them both. They are soulbound, whether they like it or not, and thus, perpetually stuck in the desert, even if surrounded by the most green trees.
If the songbirds sing for them, (perhaps the ravens, too,) then over the course of four separate lives, they sing the same tune. Scar welcomes it, as if it's a fond memory, and Grian refuses it, screaming into the void. It could've been anyone else— in one life, he’d prefer someone like BigB, but in a worst case scenario, it could've been even the likes of Martyn he was stuck with, who wanted him dead the most. He doesn’t understand why he does, but he sees the hints of violet hues in his eyes when they whisper. He can only assume why.
It just had to be Scar, instead. The Watchers must be laughing, gazing upon their fallen protégé.
If the Watchers were gods, they should have been divine. Instead, they play tricks. In a past long gone, they make Grian’s wings striped browns, like that of the burrowing owl. They tease him with the knowledge of the birds and the desert, they tie the string of fate between him and Scar. They tease him again, wings black as the night, an omen of death. He always manages to kill those he cares for. Over and over again, he apologizes.
Being tied to the cacti means guilt, always pricking at him when he least expects it. The cycle continues to repeat, and Grian’s light falters. In truth, Grian belongs to the stars and the void. Once upon a time, a fallen Watcher and a human meet. The god kills the mortal. The god owes the mortal.
The ravens sing. They fortell a curse. Grian doesn't listen. He goes on with sword in hand (he goes on with bare fists), and he kills for Scar (he kills Scar). A fallen god, synonymous with destruction. A mortal, wrapped in flowers. Suddenly, the mortals seem more divine.
In more recent lives, it remains the same. Always, the same song and dance. All that changes is how much they let it affect them. Regardless, the string remains tied.
The poppies and lilacs await unattended. The desert sands remain a memory, too close and too far. They are doomed to repeat this, over and over again, chasing what's lost.
Or did it ever really leave?
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ilexdiapason · 1 year
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The sun is rising, and Ren overlooks the sea.
He doesn't come up here often, but today felt like a good day for it. Spruce trees surround him, cocoon him - it's quiet and lonely and comfortable. The perfect place to do some introspection.
Rustling sounds behind him.
His ear flicks, then his head - Martyn. Martyn, who is red, and Ren is yellow, but who won't kill him. Wouldn't kill anyone like this, but especially not Ren. "Martyn?"
"Good morning," Martyn says, grabs his head with both hands, and kisses him breathless.
It's a brand new feeling. They've been... close, before, they've had entanglements, they've had times where they were close enough to make it happen, but they've never actually made the leap and closed the gap. But at the same time - it's familiar. Too familiar, achingly familiar. He falls into Martyn's kiss like he's done it a thousand times before, tilts into it, relaxes into the palms that cup his cheeks instead of tensing in surprise. He feels like he should be surprised. He isn't.
Martyn exhales, something exhausted but happy. "I'm in a time loop."
Oh.
What?
"What?"
"I've lived this day... thirty-nine times now? The last day. Everyone dies tonight."
Ren pauses. Considers it. He doesn't spare a second to wonder whether Martyn's telling the truth. "How many times have you done this?"
He doesn't know if he's expecting to hear a number or what, but Martyn just shakes his head slowly. Every time, then. Or at least as many as he can manage.
"Oh, I'm so lucky."
Martyn frowns.
"To get to have this for the first time, over and over again. That this is the first thing you do."
"Well - of course it is, Ren, I -"
"I hope that next time, nothing changes."
"There's not going to be a next time," he says, and even now he knows that neither of them believe it. "I'm going to get us out of here."
"What haven't you tried yet?"
He smiles, and that exhaustion surfaces again, and this time Ren knows why. "Killing you."
"Give it a go some time. Red Spring's long overdue."
"I can't -"
"As long as you kiss me first, I won't mind it."
Martyn blinks. He's pushing back tears. Most people don't know this look, but Ren knows him better than anybody. "C'mon, Ren. Let's go. Everyone dies tonight."
And so they do.
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m0ther-of-p3arl · 11 months
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spiderverse mcyt au, anyone???
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wren-kitchens · 2 years
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soulmates
finally I have completed this! honestly this has taken me about a week of on-and-off writing/editing, not including the break I had, so i’m very glad to have this finished lmao
the end may be a bit iffy but I just wanna post this and not edit the shit out of 4 paragraphs again lol
grian honestly can’t believe scar hasn’t figured out that they’re soulm- soulbound by now. he’s been running after him the whole day, making sure he wasn’t going to kill the both of them by jumping off a cliff.
apparently, after third life, he’s accustomed to grian scrambling to assist him that he doesn’t notice it anymore. grian is starting to remember what it was like.
“scar!” he yells for what feels like the fiftieth time as scar falls down a cave entrance. “oh my-“ he hastily pulls out his steak and eats it, seeing how much damage it did. “oh my goodness- scar!”
“i’m fine!” scar’s voice calls, and grian leans over the edge. “i’m fine! ah, could you drop some water for me please?”
grian sighs to himself. “will do!” he shouts down, getting the bucket out of his inventory and pouring it over the side.
“oh, thank you.” scar says when he reaches the top. grian grabs his hand and pulls him over onto the grass. “i’ve probably terrified my soulmate with that.” he laughs. “sorry soulmate!” he calls to the sky.
I forgive you.
“so, what’re we gonna do?” scar looks back at grian. “are we gonna base, or get resources, or..?”
“we should probably make a base.” grian stands up. “here looks pretty good.”
scar surveys the area, then gasps. “oh!” with no explanation, he jumps up and starts to run towards the border.
“what- scar!” grian scoops the water up and runs after him. “scar where are you going?!“
“the jellies!” scar shouts over his shoulder, which doesn’t help at all.
grian opts not to ask, speeding up to try and catch up with scar. luckily, he starts to slow down once he reaches the border, and grian sees what he was running to.
“you- how did you get these cats so big?” grian frowns.
“they’re my jellies!” scar exclaims, laughing as one nudges his hand. “oh hello there!” he coos, stroking the giant jellie cat.
grian doesn’t notice the smile creeping onto his face until scar looks up at him. “what?” scar asks.
“oh, um, nothing.” grian says hastily, feeling his face flush. “how are these here?”
“well, I don’t like pandas, so I got mumbo to help me code it so all the pandas are giant jellies!” scar grins at him. “aren’t they cute?”
one of the giant cats curls around gran’s legs, almost knocking him over in the process. it startles a laugh out of him, and he begrudgingly pats its head.
“aw, you guys are adorable.” scar smiles.
“who, me or the jellies?” grian jokes.
“who says it’s just one of you?” scar gives him a wink before turning back to the cats surrounding him.
grian freezes, face flushing and one hand stuck midair, just above the jellie’s head he was about to stroke. of course scar would find a way to make giant cats into an opportunity to fluster him. well, it’s working.
“um, so, scar-“ he starts. his voice is a little too quiet to be heard, so really he can’t blame scar when he speaks over him.
“alright, i’m gonna go see if I can trade bamboo for anything.” scar decides. “oh! I can try to find sugarcane before anyone else.”
grian watches as scar jogs off, waving over his shoulder. he raises his hand and waves weakly back.
“I had something to tell you..” he says, dropping his arm once scar is out of sight. “I had something to tell you!” he shouts, scrunching up his face.
“oh, of course he runs off, just when I finally think I can say it.” grian says to no one in particular, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes. “honestly, he’s gonna get himself killed chasing.. allays, or something. his ‘true’ soulmates.” he says bitterly. “honestly, does he not care?” grian looks down at the jellie he’s been stroking. it meows sympathetically at him.
“yeah, well. I don’t care either.” grian folds his arms. “he can go and be soulmates with his allay. if he doesn’t want to know his soulmate- ah, soulbound is, then he doesn’t have to.”
the jellie nudges his hip, purring.
“how am I even supposed to tell him?” grian sits down, throwing his arms out exasperatedly. “I mean, i’m not good at this — i’m talking to giant cats about my issues for crying out loud.”
the jellie curls around him and flops down, like a furry beanbag.
“not to say that you aren’t helping.” grian adds, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “you’re being very understanding.”
he smiles as it meows and puts its head on his lap. “ah, screw that soulmate junk. if he doesn’t want me, I don’t want him.”
the cat looks up. grian swears it’s raising nonexistent eyebrows at him.
“don’t look at me like that.” grian frowns. “I don’t.”
mrowl. who knew a cat could look critical?
“alright, maybe I do. only a little, though.” grian admits. “I shouldn’t. he doesn’t-it’s just not the same as it was. I don’t think he knows, but i’ve never stopped caring for him. not since the desert. I don’t think he cares about me though, not like i care about him. he’s never said anything like it.”
the jellie’s purring gets louder.
he pauses. “or, maybe he just hasn’t told me because he doesn’t know if I care for him.” grian realises. “oh, god, does that mean i have to say it?” he buries his face in his hands. “i don’t know how to do that.”
grian jumps as he feels a stabbing pain in his arm. then, an idea forms.
“I could tell him we’re soulbound! then he might say it for me?” grian says. “how do I tell him though? I could hit him but- no. nope, not an option.” he drops his hands on top of the jellie’s head, faint images of bloodstained hands filling his mind. “sorry.” he says when it makes a small startled noise.
the jellie lifts its head up and nibbles gently on grian’s watch, clicking the button that opens his inventory.
“I said sorr- oh.” grian is looking directly at pointed dripstone. “I see.” he looks down at the cat, which looks oddly pleased with itself. “did mumbo give you bigger brains or something?”
the jellie meows, then puts its head back onto grian’s lap. he strokes it, and they sit there in silence, punctuated only by meows and purrs from the cat, until scar gets back.
“grian, no one wanted my bamboo.” scar says, showing him the bundle he still has in his hands. “and I couldn’t find any sugarcane.”
grian gently pushes the jellie off of him and stands up. “scar I need to show you something.”
“alright, what is it?” scar asks, smiling as the jellies walk up to him lazily, sniffing the bamboo.
“come over here.” grian walks over to a large oak tree. he takes the dripstone out of his inventory and places it on one of the branches. “now can you- scar!”
“they didn’t breed, grian!” scar is standing in a huddle of pandas, feeding them the last of the bamboo.
“get over here.” grian grabs his hand and pulls him over to the tree.
“but could you explain why they didn’t breed?” scar says, completely oblivious.
“stop messing with the jellies.” grian says, frustrated. “now, stand there, okay? look at me.”
“alright.” scar says cheerily.
grian pulls out his pickaxes and breaks the base of the dripstone. just as it hits scar’s head, scar looks away, laughing at a jellie that’s followed him and is now nudging his hand.
“look at them.” scar giggles, giving it more bamboo.
“scar.” grian says, head throbbing.
“oh, right, sorry.” scar turns back to him. “what am I looking for?”
afterwards, grian was never entirely sure why he did it. maybe it was frustration at how little scar seemed to be paying attention to him. maybe it was because he really didn’t want to get skewered by dripstone again. but maybe it was because he was tired of pretending not to feel what he felt, because he was no longer too scared to say anything.
for whatever reason it is, grian grabs the collar of scar’s shirt, pulls him down and kisses him. for one heartstopping moment, he thinks he’s completely misjudged the situation, but then scar’s kissing him back and, oh, grian is absolutely in love with this man.
after a moment, they break apart, and they both stare at each other, registering. grian is about to apologise for not asking when-
“oh my god.”
grian is so nervous he bursts out laughing.
“this whole time?!” scar exclaims.
“this whole time.” grian nods, still laughing.
“this whole t- you mean we’ve been parading around and you-“ scar cuts himself off, disbelieving. “why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I just did!” grian protests.
“yeah, after three days!” scar says. “and you didn’t even tell me, you kissed me!”
grian shoots him a grin. he feels jittery, but not in a bad way. “are you opposed to my methods?”
scar huffs, rolling his eyes fondly. “well i didn’t say that.” grian laughs again at his pink face. “oh, you can’t talk, you’re the one who kissed me in the first place!”
“yeah, but- just- well, look at you!” grian exclaims. “you’ve spent the past three days lamenting about not finding your soulmate. I was frustrated!”
“I didn’t realise it was you!” scar says.
“that’s what was frustrating!” grian exclaims, starting to laugh again. “you had no idea, even when I told you.”
“you told me?” scar frowns. “when?”
grian nods. “in the ravine! when you were chasing after that allay.”
“you- what?!” scar says. “that did not happen!”
“it did!” grian grins. “i thought you were just ignoring me, until you started complaining about not knowing who your soulmate was.”
“I can’t believe this.” scar says. “so, you knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me until now?”
“it was never a good time!” grian defends. “how do you tell the person, who you still have feelings for, that you’re bound together by the universe after you already tried once and failed?”
scar’s expression turns a little shy. “‘still have feelings for’?”
“you’re focusing on the wrong part.” grian says. “but I just kissed you, and you’re asking if I like you? of course I do.” he can’t help the fondness of his voice when he says it. it’s embarrassing.
“that wasn’t the question.” scar is still uncharacteristically shy. it’s endearing. “you ‘still’ have feelings for me?”
grian feels his face flush. “well. 3rd life was a wild time.”
scar blinks. “wait, do you mean-“
“I mean i’ve loved you since 3rd life.” grian blurts out. his eyes widen as he realises what he just said. scar’s face turns pink.
“I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I tried to get rid of it by avoiding you for last life.” grian explains. “which didn’t work. and now we’re soulmates, which is.. pretty cool.”
“pretty cool?” scar teases. good to know he’s not so flustered he can’t mess with grian.
“oh shut up, what do you want me to say?” grian says, blushing.
“‘which is amazing, glorious, wonderful, everything i ever dreamed of’ would be getting there.” scar grins, laughing when grian hits him.
“how about I just kiss you instead?” grian says. he’s not entirely sure if it’s a threat or not.
scar smiles. “I wouldn’t be against it.”
grian leans up, their lips meeting again, and honestly why haven’t they been doing this the whole time? because as scar cups his face and runs a hand through his hair, grian wishes he could stop time and stay like this forever.
when they pull apart, they’re both grinning like idiots, faces pink with pleasure.
“it’s so cute how you have to stand on tiptoe to reach me.”
“oh shut up!”
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a-sky-of-diamonds · 2 years
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Scott remembers a world where he played by the rules.
Well, not... played by them, exactly. But he let them be. Lived a life in a hidden valley, the sweet scents blanketing the fog of bloodlust, and the bright colours of the flowers drowning out the red of Jimmy’s name.
He remembers a world where he was content to rest, to build, to trust, to love and to laugh, and to simply be.
But the rules came knocking on his doorstep.
One by one, his friends fell to the whims of the world. Joel, burnt to cinders along with his roof, his sanity left behind as he rose once more. Ren, once so hopeful and trusting, growing a cold will of iron, a will that coalesced into a diamond axe that stripped his head from his body in a bid to allow him to kill. Martyn, still on green, severing ties with their flower valley; all for a higher power, all obeying the rules given by the Red King’s voice. Jimmy – sweet, loyal, silly Jimmy – still so innocent and naive even on his final life, still living, but with no guarantee on how long that final life would last.
The red of the flames and his once-friends’ crimson souls burnt away their peaceful valley. The scent of the flowers withered and turned to that of sickening ash, cloaking Scott’s world in a haze of loss and longing, worse even then the bloodlust that he feared.
And suddenly, all too soon, the stark red of Jimmy’s name had faded to a grey ash with it.
...Scott learned a lesson, in that world.
If you’re passive, if you’re complacent, if you try to simply live in this place with rules so twisted and fates so forced, you’ll lose and lose and lose. Not just the game – though he lost that too – but your soul and your strength, and everything that makes you meaningful.
He learned a lesson, and he made a vow. Never again, never again, would he be complacent to the whims of that world. Not the second time round.
****
Scott remembers a world where the air was sharp and cold, and the people sharper still. A world blanketed by a shadow of spruce, and cleaved apart by the bitter, ragged peaks of snowswept mountaintops. A world where a hunger crept through the shades of autumn, through the falling lives and falling leaves, crawling and stalking, seeking and gnawing, clouding minds and twisting souls, ever-vicious, ever-present, always wanting more. 
A hunger that started as a seedling. A little weed of a thought sprouting in your mind; irritating, yes, but easy to ignore. But then that weed grew black shoots and tendrils and clusters of rotten fruit, wrapping around your head until you couldn’t see clearly, and it grew roots that caged your heart, and it grew and grew and grew until it was a noxious vine that bound your body so tightly you couldn’t breathe. And, half in madness and half in desperation, you’d slash, shoot, hack, laugh in the deep dark haze in the off chance that the blood of a victim would lure the vine instead – and then you’d force a laugh again as the fog cleared and the broken body of a friend instead took its shape around you.
It was a vine which, through the selfish thoughts of humans and their cowardly will to live, had only been nurtured. Scott, too, had once stood before a half-finished pit, soul unbinding, the shattered form of Impulse far below.
And so the hunger was quite familiar, when he awoke another day with blood before his eyes.
He remembers laughing out at the sky, cold and biting, because of course the hunger would persist even with only eight souls at play, and of course it would persist after him a second time. He remembers snorting at the cruel whims of this world, because of course they’d persist if no-one dared confront them.
-But then he remembers another world, a flower field. Eyes so bright as they beamed at him, a multitude of colours reflected within, and eyes glazed over as they stared out, bare, across the sand.
And he remembers this world, too. Pearl, cheeky and joyful, baring her soul to him every session and not letting the circumstances keep her from smiling; Cleo, snarky and wry, hard and pragmatic and yet so, so loyal; a cottage in a clearing, a sanctuary built with his own two hands, surrounded by walls of lava because he would not let a home fall yet again. They burned in his heart, bright and warm and searing, white flame blazing across the blackened roots that tried to cage that heart away.
He remembers steeling himself, staring fate in the eye, and saying no.
Even if he withered away, even if that vine took his air and soul and life, he’d keep that promise. For Cleo, for Pearl, for Jimmy. For the knowledge that, in a world where so many were so content to follow, to twist and be twisted and be played with as the toys of some perverted god... that there was someone out there, who’d defy them. 
And because there was no way, in any world, that he’d let that flame go dark.
****
Scott remembers all this as he looks out over a third world. It sprawls out before him, warm and green, sun just over the horizon. There’s hope in the air, a hope of love and camaraderie, because this time, it seems, the world has decided to be kind. 
But Scott has known the whims of fate, and he will not bend to them. For Cleo and Pearl, for Jimmy, for all the people who lost their lives in a cruel game that world played, once upon a time. A game which, for all he knows, the world’s still playing. 
He won’t tie himself to another player, solely because that world decides it.
So he takes one look at the string on his wrist, has one glance as it’s brought to life and tingles, trying to lead him to his fated partner in this new life. Someone who’s bound to him by destiny, someone who shares their life with his own; someone who’ll be there, always, even when the entire world is against them. He takes one look, and then looks away.
If someone wants to come, they’ll come. If they want to be allies, to be friends... let them earn his trust on their own merits. Let the world play its game with its own cards. 
Scott’s done with playing by its rules.
–––––––––––
[Based on this post of mine]
Also, reblogs are appreciated more than likes :) sorry, I don't say this very often, but yeah... likes don’t really do anything. But if you just want to do that, that’s still appreciated. 
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peppered-moths · 1 year
Text
here is a lesson that scott learns often: the love is never worth it.
here is a lesson that scott forgets often: that doesn't mean it was never there.
so no. he does not care about jimmy. they've been enemies longer than they were lovers. jimmy dies, and scott survives. such is the path of fate.
scott has never been much for fate, even if it's not his own. so he vows; i will let you kill me. i will not let time take you away (from me) so soon. he spreads his hands, makes a mockery of golden wings. do it. there is coal dust in his throat.
smajor1995 hit the ground too hard.
it's not love; maybe it never was. it's holding on, instead, to the one person who at least thought they cared about you. scott dances on a beaten path, forever chasing after what used to be. poppies and promises, red blood on the sand.
it is memory. rote, unchanging, to run to each other. that doesn't make it anything. that doesn't make it love.
(but maybe it's love when scott sends an arrow through jimmy's chest, a fierce grin on his face. maybe it's love when jimmy screams for him, begging save my life, save my life, please. maybe it's love, watching him die only a few minutes later.)
(maybe it's love to be breathing at all.)
(the canary stops singing. the world stops spinning.)
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briarlovesclara · 2 years
Text
When you win a life game, you get to remember. 
Grian couldn’t believe what he was hearing when the other Hermits denied having what they insisted must be his dreams. Hadn’t they seen it? Hadn’t they felt it? He sent letters off to everyone he could think of, pestering Xisuma constantly, even knowing how hard some of the deliveries were. ‘MCC, Grian?’ He’d asked. ‘You know how hard it is to contact them.’ And in the end Grian had shut up, closed his mouth, and kept going, through Hermitcraft, through Last Life, through, through, through.
Scott felt it in his bones that no one would remember when he went to Empires. He gave Jimmy the flower, and something almost seemed to click, but it was just taken as a friendly sign and nothing else. He brought him on hollow dates, equally needing Jimmy in his life and wanting to throw up every time he saw him. He didn’t send letters. 
Scott and Grian run into each other one night during the first session, still looking for their soulmates. It’s dark, and they quickly make a campfire and some temporary walls. They both cringe at the aesthetic, but it will have to do. On opposite sides of the flame, they look at each other. ‘You remember.’ Grian says. ‘I do.’ ‘But not the first one.’ ‘No.’ They look into each other’s eyes, searching, thinking, each bringing their conclusion that they had formed a long time ago. ‘We move on.’ Scott says. ‘Alright, then.’ Says Grian. 
They move on.
(I’m adding this after, because I just thought about it-- Scott was always afraid during third life that his memory would fail him in the future. When Jimmy died, he told the ground all of his memories and cried them into the flowers he planted. When he won Last Life, he remembered that too. That love and loss. But nothing else. The memories were the last gift, the last curse, that Scott gave him.)
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solsearchingnights · 1 year
Text
The sun was too bright at spawn.
Scott flexed his hands, the aches almost as overwhelming as the light. Impulse was talking and Scott knew he was replying, but it didn’t matter, did it? They were all so close to the end, who cared who stood last?
A flash of white and red caught his attention.
Pain throbbed through his head at the reminder. He cared who stood last. He needed it to be Martyn.
He knew the Watchers were already mad at him, so who cared if he broke their rules one more time? He didn’t need to fall on his sword for Martyn to be the victor. He only needed to fall on Impulse’s. 
His chest ached with layered scars. His legs were hardly working; they were so weak. Scott had died so many times, and he’d respawned too fast to heal properly from any of them. The spinning in his skull was just as much from the bloodlust as it was from pain. There was one person left to kill, then he could be done. Then he could rest. 
So why were they discussing it so civilly? Why had he given up all that time, just to give Impulse a chance? He turned to Martyn. His partner looked angry.
Scott knew how tired they all were of this. His eyes flicked to Martyn’s hand, wrapping white-knuckled around the shaft of his axe. Maybe it would be okay. The sun was too bright and he missed the water and he was covered in the ghosts of killing blows; but they were almost done here.
He leaned into  Martyn’s shoulder, not missing the way his partner tensed at the contact. Thank you, for everything. He brushed a kiss over Martyn’s cheek, then took a step forward.
His knees burned with the movement and his vision went dark for a tick. He smiled at Impulse, ready to see what came next.
The axe blade was cool, nearly a comfort as it buried itself in his back. Martyn’s voice was a song, loud and hoarse but music all the same. 
Scott fell and the sunlight faded. Martyn was all he saw, so bright and burning against the encroaching darkness. Red and white and gold, flashing through his sky like a meteor. Scott knew it had been a sure death to stand in his path but it was worth the warmth.
He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
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amethystfairy1 · 6 months
Text
✨Hello hello!✨
I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!
The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles
And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story! #amethyst updates
Right now, I have two WIP AUs!
Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️
My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!
TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!
Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!
Tags for the AU are:
#through the sky blue cracks
#ttsbc au
#ttsbc ficlets
Traveling Thieves 🪽
My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.
Tags for the AU are:
#traveling thieves au
#traveling thieves ficlets
Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝
A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!
My prompt requests are always open! I do not promise to fulfill anything, nor do I promise to fulfill anything within a reasonable time frame, BUT if you have any sort of thoughts/requests/recommendations I absolutely love to hear them and engage with them!
They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences!
Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place, too! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU...or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them!
Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓
As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!
When I need some inspiration I dip into the request bin, and I keep all the requests I receive stored for future reference!
Tags for the series are:
#amethysts scribbling corner
I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!
My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!
Thanks for coming by! 💖
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highhhfiveee · 7 months
Note
okay, this has been my literal roman empire. what if gf!y/n and abby are having a little karaoke moment to a song and mike walks in and sees both of them together, and you can write the rest.
i don’t know why but i can’t stop thinking about it.
remember to take care of yourself 🫶🫶
this is so very cute (,: but alas, for "to crumble" mike and reader, this is but a thing of the past.
tags: "to crumble" mike and reader, foreshadowy fluff (: pretty cute stuff that hurts in retrospect 💔
karaoke therapy
a "to crumble" ficlet.
original fic: 🩹 / additional ficlet, facetime: 🤳🏽
you come over to watch abby on a friday night so you're able to stay with her and mike for the entirety of saturday. your weekends are usually occupied by grading since you're nearing the end of the fall semester, but you're forcing time with abby and mike into your schedule because it's what you really want. life wasn't all about work and bills and adulting; you could do the things you enjoyed if you planned for it and so you did.
you'd driven over with enough haste to get you pulled over, toting enough stuff to last you a day and your excitement, large and beaming brightly in your demeanor. you were jittery walking up the drive, shaking out the anxiety in your body as you knock on the door.
abby answers the door, causing you to shift your gaze downward. she's already in her pajamas, the cute, pink bunny slippers you got her for her birthday donned on her feet. she smiles at you, opening the door further so you can step inside. "hi, y/n. you're just in time, mike made lasagna."
"yeah, it's on the stove. it's slightly burnt," mike calls from down the hall, walking into the living room as he slips his arms through the holes of his security vest. "but we'll say crispy on top instead. hi, baby." he grabs your face, pulling you into a couple small pecks, ones he backs away from with a lazy smile. you twist your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. you and mike hadn't been dating for long, a short but serious four months, and you always felt so dizzy when you saw him, bewildered at the fact that he was your boyfriend. he was so sweet, so caring, hard-working, and unlike anyone you'd dated before. he worked so hard to provide for abby and change his future, and it made your attraction to him greater. he wanted you in that future, and it excited you for what was to come.
"gotta leave so soon?" you pout. mike's eyes soften as you caress his cheek, sighing as he reaches down for his bag.
"unfortunately. traffic's bad tonight, there was a huge crash and i gotta take backroads, howeverrrrr," mike ruffles abby's hair, causing her to grumble and gives you one last kiss, the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes accompanied with a lip bite, "i will see you both tomorrow morning, bright and early. have fun, and goodnight."
mike gives abby a kiss on the top of her head before he exits to his car, and you close the door behind you, dropping your duffle onto the floor. "okay," you announce, placing your hands on your bent knees as you turn to abby. "lasagna while we play board games or do karaoke?"
karaoke wins by a landslide. abby's been loving to sing recently, starting to get more comfortable with her growing vocals. she really only shows it to you, and ever since you've showed her karaoke, you've encouraged her to have fun and try different things; different inflections, tones, anything else she feels like she could do to make it her own. you loved to see her blossom singing in front of the brightly colored, ever-changing lyrics, using her hairbrush as a microphone.
you use your own too, setting it down on the coffee table to take a bite of lasagna and garlic bread while you watch abby sing along to call me maybe. she rocks on her heels in front of the tv, eyes tracking alongside the moving text.
you encourage her between forkfuls, providing her with background vocals and hype, giving her an "okay!" once she gets to the prechorus. she begins to dance, bouncing around the space between the coffee table and the tv. she gives her all to the chorus, making a good attempt at belting the notes.
"you sound so good, abs," you praise, wiping your mouth off on a napkin before grabbing the remote to change the karaoke video. "here, let's try some other ones. eat some food while i find them, 'kay?"
meanwhile, mike is sat in his car, idling behind others on the backroad he decided to take. traffic on these roads had increased because of the crash on the freeway, and there was no way he was getting to work any time soon. he'd been sitting bumper to bumper with these cars for about ten minutes, and he feels irritation creeping up into him, tapping his fingers against the wheel and leaning his head into the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the window. not even listening to the radio helps him, and eventually he just turns it off, succumbing to the sound of bad brakes and purring engines.
his mind floats away with thoughts of you, and how happy you looked he saw you at the house, all giddy and excited to be there. he loved you, loved when you were around. abby did too. you'd both agreed that your presence made the house feel complete, and that's all mike could think about, wondering how to bring up the question he'd been dwelling on for the past few weeks.
he should be home, on the couch watching tv with you and abby, or eating dinner, sat at the table and talking about your days and what hopes you had for the future. what things you found interesting. interacting like humans, having real moments; being present. mike had trouble with that, sleeping so much to keep up with the demand of working overnight. he tried to be there for abby as much as he could, helping her with her homework and making sure she was fed and feeling okay after her school days, but sometimes he felt like it was just an autonomous thing he did, moving on autopilot. the days blended together until you entered the equation, completely breaking up the monotony in his life with your being.
he should be home, not sitting in between all these aluminum machines, breathing in the acrid smells of oil and gasoline.
"fuck it," mike mutters, checking his blinds before pulling a turn off the main road and making his way around all the traffic, heading back towards the house.
freddy's was locked. no one would be around to do anything, no one ever was, and he was sure that it would be fine if he missed one night. he speeds back home, gripping the steering wheel with intent. he has people to get to, time to spend with the ones he loves. life's too short, he ruminates, and there's never enough time for moments of happiness like the ones he gets from you and abby.
he pulls into the driveway, exiting the car with the same jaunty energy you had earlier and unlocking the door with zeal. "decided to come back home. traffic wa---"
"my loneliness...is killing me,"
"and i...."
"i must confess, i still believe..."
"still believe!" you point your index finger to the sky as you hit the note, giggling along with abby as she attempts it too. "when i'm not with you, i lose my mind...give me a signnnnnnnnn," you're spinning around with your brush clutched in both hands, eyes closed and body fully invested in the music. mike doesn't think he's heard you sing before, not so solemnly like this. your voice is beautiful.
"hit me baby---oh jeez, mike!" you squeal in time to the music as abby finishes out the chorus, turning to face her brother as well. he's just staring at you two, jovially twisted lips and crossed arms and this twinkling look in his eye that makes you squirm. no one's ever looked at you like that, and you replace your hairbrush with the remote, stopping the video.
"sorry, i'm just...helping abby expand her iconic pop song repertoire. gotta start with one of the classics." abby nods as mike waves off your apology, setting his bag next to yours on the floor. "yeah, y/n is introducing me to such great songs. i'm really enjoying britney spears. what was that other song we did?"
"toxic," you reply, tucking your hair behind your ear. "that was a really fun one."
"uh huh, it was! it was all---" abby mimics the whiny synth strings, causing mike to laugh, coming around to the front of the couch. he wraps his arm around your waist, twirling you to face him. you place both of your hands on his shoulders, gazing deeply into his content eyes. "let me hear more of your singing, abs," he asks, and she starts the video up again, pretending the small sliver of space where she stands is a professional stage.
mike begins to sway your bodies, slowly waltzing you around as abby's untrained voice soundtracks your dance. "don't know why you were apologizing. hearing and watching you two have fun is the greatest thing ever, baby. love seeing you spend time together."
you blush, ducking your head into his collarbone. "it's just a silly thing i do by myself at home. guess i kinda got abby super interested in it...lots of fun though. lots of fun."
mike is quiet for a while, spinning you around gently. you can feel his heartbeat through his clothes, speed up-ticking with every second. he's looking down on you, watching your eyelash flutter with each serene blink you take, then looking at abby, who's searching through other karaoke videos and humming the melody of baby one more time with a bob of her head.
all mike can feel right now is this moment. he feels every second pass, overly-conscious to the fact that he's living and breathing in this instant. this was the present he'd always wanted to be in, and he doesn't want to let go of it. he wants this forever. his question gnaws at him, chewing away at his stomach, and he finally just blurts it out.
you're about to pull away from him to ask him if he's okay when he whispers, "move in with us." you're taken aback, raising from his chest and staring at him, eyebrows furrowed and lips wrinkled.
"mike.."
"you don't have to answer right now," he clarifies, sighing as he shakes his head. "i meant to ask it as a question, i'm sorry." you chuckle, reaching your fingers up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "just...let me know if you want to. i love having you here, abby loves having you here. i know it's still pretty early for us but...we could be a bona fide family, the three of us."
you squeeze mike a little tighter, a sort of answer to his question. there wasn't anything stopping you, truly. his house was closer to the school you worked at, and you could drop abby off at her school in the mornings so mike could get enough rest to pick her up in the afternoons. you could have home-cooked dinners, and spend the weekends together, taking abby to art museums and libraries, theme parks and other attractions.
you really could be a family. you were still young, your relationship with mike moderately fresh, but...the idea sounded nice.
"think about it," mike instructs, pulling away from you and ducking down to look at your obscured face. "no rush, okay?" he steps away from you after giving you a kiss to the forehead, grabbing for your hairbrush. a video for i'm like a bird by nelly furtado has started playing, and mike saddles up to abby, hip bumping her as he prepares to sing. "gonna be your backup singer, that okay?"
"yeah, yeah, just do it well! c'mon, c'mon it's starting! you're beautiful, that's for sure..." you take a seat on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch and listen, giggling along to mike's off-pitch ad-libs and timing mistakes. abby squeals at him, bursting into a fit of laughter and incorrect lyrics as he tickles at her torso.
you could get used to this, you think. maybe moving wouldn't be so bad.
how cute for it to all just go ka-blammy (,: going to write a part 2 for "to crumble" and i know y'all said y'all wanted it sweet but hmmmm...i think we need some angst. just stay tuned 🤞🏽
faire's seedlings ✿
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