#swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

We Are the Universe

Prompt: Soulmate AU

Summary: “They say magic is something that flows through everyone’s veins. Contrary to what some may believe, channelling it is not as simple as drinking a potion or partaking in rigorous training. It requires a search that could take a single week, or it could last a lifetime. No, you do not seek out some legendary treasure, nor do you have to find an ancient structure weathered by time. You must find your lifelong partner. Your soulmate.”

Scott has spent years searching for his soulmate, to no avail. The ever-present power of fate shows up to help him out.

Relationships: Scott/Milo

Warnings: None

Characters: Scott, Milo

Notes: Written for @mcytficfight! This is a gift for Callalore, known on AO3 as PermanentlyExhaustedVoid.

[AO3 link]

They say magic is something that flows through everyone’s veins. Contrary to what some may believe, channelling it is not as simple as drinking a potion or partaking in rigorous training. It requires a search that could take a single week, or it could last a lifetime. No, you do not seek out some legendary treasure, nor do you have to find an ancient structure weathered by time. You must find your lifelong partner. Your soulmate.

Older documentations of the phenomenon state that a soulmate must be romantic. However, in recent years, it has been discovered that soulmates can in fact range from romantic partners to lifelong friends. Any and all forms of this bond are capable of unlocking a person’s hidden magic. Many of those people go on to become witches, learning the ins and outs of sorcery under the strict instruction of Bertha; a mysterious individual who hides their face beneath a large cloak.

Scott, a young man in the Smajor family, has wanted to be a witch since he was very young. Based on his observations over the years, his family’s magic seems to be very closely linked to the lifelines of the world. He’s been told that when his parents met, his mother almost had a heart attack when the plants around his father suddenly started wilting and dying. Turns out it was just his magic being freed from its confinement. Apparently, his mother had thought it was some sort of curse at first, before she knew better. But now she can revive the plants her husband kills.

When Scott is almost eighteen, he meets a young man at a small town market. “Name’s Milo,” he says, his smile bright. The two of them wander for a while, engaging in idle chatter about topics that aren’t all that interesting, but make for good small talk as they get to know each-other. By the time the two part ways, Scott has learned that Milo has an adorable pet named Maxwell, and that he dabbles in baking from time to time.

Scott and Milo continue to spend time together after that day. They meet up a few times each week, travelling to whichever place suits their fancy at that current moment. They chat about nothing in particular and everything at the same time. It’s a welcome distraction to calm Scott’s racing mind, but partway through, he notices his arms have begun itching, and the tightness in his chest has come back with a vengeance. Thinking the itchy sensation could be some sort of reaction, he scours his skin for any insect bites or rashes. He finds nothing.

“Everything okay?” Milo lays a hand on Scott’s arm and the itching seems to get worse. There is a burning sensation beneath his fingernails that brings tears to the corners of his eyes.

Then Milo moves away, and everything settles. The severing of physical contact takes away every agonising feeling, as if it were never there in the first place. Could this be… Milo’s magic?

“Did you…” Scott swallows. “Did you do that?”

Milo raises an eyebrow, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Do what?”

Ah. Well, there goes that theory. “Nevermind.”

Neither of them bring it up again. Scott returns home some time later, having awkwardly excused himself with the excuse that he wasn’t feeling well. It’s a half truth; his face is abnormally warm and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. It’s not the same sensation as what he experienced before, and he feels oddly… euphoric?

…Oh.

Oh, he’s in love.

They meet up again the following day. Scott doesn’t expect the outing to be too eventful — most days, they just sit and talk — but then Milo interrupts their conversation with a statement which catches him completely off guard.

“Okay, this is going to sound a little crazy, but… I think we might be soulmates.”

Ah, there goes his heart again, beating faster than what should be physically possible. “Really?”

“It’s just a hunch,” Milo says, rising from where they have been sitting on the grass, “but I’m pretty confident.” He extends a hand down towards Scott, who takes it with little hesitation and allows himself to be hauled onto his feet. He moves to pull his hand away, but Milo holds it tightly.

“H-Hey—“

His arms are itching again.

“You feel it, right?” Milo murmurs. The itching gets worse. All words die in Scott’s throat. Milo takes his other hand. A fire ignites beneath his nails, dancing between his fingers.

“It’s magic, Scott.” Milo’s eyes are shining. “Fresh magic, only just set free.” Looking down at their intertwined hands, Scott notices a similar phenomenon occurring around Milo’s fingers. When he looks up again, he finds himself meeting Milo’s gaze.

All at once, he remembers. Prolonged physical contact with your soulmate is the only way for the newly released magic to thrive and adapt, becoming a force able to be comfortably controlled by its user. How did he forget such an important detail; this explains so much.

“…How did I not realise this sooner.”

“I only started suspecting it after you acted weirdly yesterday.” Milo releases Scott’s hands, but unlike before, he can still feel the raw magic flowing throughout his body. “I could feel it too, but it wasn’t as severe; I guess because I was the one initiating touch? But you could feel it even before all the physical contact, so your magic must be something really special.” He and Scott both laugh.

“Probably should’ve expected that, being a Smajor and everything.” Scott scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Our magic has a history of being unpredictable.”

“And that makes it all the more entertaining.” Milo grins. “Our magic is going to be linked, you know. I wonder what sort of spells we’ll get…”

“You know we’ll have to learn the spells before we can cast them, right?”

“Shush, don’t ruin the mood.”

Giggling, Scott watches Milo put on a very dramatic show of pouting and looking away, his arms crossed. The act doesn’t last long, mainly because he’s unable to keep a straight face, but Scott will give him points for effort.

The world around them falls silent. Milo’s expression settles into a gentle gaze, and he gets just a little closer to Scott. Scott closes the remainder of the gap, and the two of them effortlessly entangle themselves in a warm, gentle embrace. A soft teal glow engulfs them, as if shielding the two new soulmates from the outside world.

“You know…” Milo gazes into Scott’s eyes. “This feels like one of those really cliché happy endings. Like the ones you find in storybooks.”

“Would you have preferred us bonding over a near-death experience or something?” Scott raises an eyebrow, his lips curling up into a playful smile.

“Hey, I never said I had a problem with it; I was just pointing it out.”

“Right.”

Scott will be honest, this isn’t at all how he expected finding his soulmate would go. He had always thought locating his lifelong partner would require a bit more effort. Instead, they sort of just… bumped into each-other. By complete chance. You could almost say it was underwhelming — anticlimactic, if you will. But as Milo leans in closer, eyes soft and a loving smile on his face, Scott realises he doesn’t mind at all.

He closes the gap.

The wisps of magic dancing in the air receive the high honour of bearing witness to the first kiss shared by the power of an eternal bond.

#witchcraft smp #scott smajor #witchcraft smp milo #soulmate au #mcyt fic fight #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

I’m Pale as the Loose-Leaf Paper They Grow (From Hollowing Out All My Lungs in the Snow)

Summary: Tom Simons, Prince of Endlantis, is sick. His father, King Philza, must venture to the neighbouring kingdom for medicine. In his absence, Tommy and his brother Wilbur are left in the care of Technoblade, a mysterious individual who Phil claims to trust more than anyone else in the entire world. Relationships: Tommy & Wilbur & Phil & Techno Warnings: Minor descriptions of illness Characters: Tommy, Wilbur, Phil, Techno Notes: A gift fic for @florasicsfr! Title comes from Nurse's Office by Melanie Martinez. [AO3 link]

To be frank, Tommy feels like shit. His nose is running, his eyes are itchy, and he’s sweating bullets despite the goosebumps lining his arms and legs. He groans, letting his head flop back onto the pillow behind him. He retrieves a tissue from his bedside table, taking care not to accidentally bump the crown sitting nearby before proceeding to bury himself within his blanket. He holds the tissue to his nose, an incoherent grumble escaping him.

Tommy blames Phil. He only got sick after he was forced to accompany his father to the tundra for what he said was ‘urgent business’. Urgent business my ass. Now he’s here, having been bedridden for two days now, wallowing in isolation and sorrow. Sure, he gets the occasional visitor, but he’d much rather be among the people, socialising and just— being himself. Instead, it feels as if he’s a completely different person, deprived of energy, all because of some stupid virus.

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” Tommy calls, his nasally voice muffled by the blanket currently thrown over his head. He assumes it’s just a maid, here to bring him a fresh box of tissues and possibly clean his room, depending on if he actually managed to stomach his food this time — which he did, thank you very much.

The blanket is abruptly tossed off of Tommy, the sudden exposure to the cool air sending a shiver down his spine. “Shit!” he shrieks, sitting up and lunging for the culprit of this heinous theft. Uncontrollable laughter stops him in his tracks, and his arms drop down onto his knees, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. “Wilbur!”

Wilbur wraps an arm around his stomach, wiping a tear from his eye. When he eventually calms down, he grabs at the glamorous robe draped around him, tossing it aside and flopping onto the bed beside his brother. “Sorry, sorry, Tom.” Wilbur grins. “I couldn’t resist.”

Tommy crosses his arms, turning his head away and pointing his chin upwards. “Well, I don’t accept your apology.”

“Aww, don’t be like that. Why not?”

“Because you’re a dick.”

Wilbur gasps, prompting Tommy to drop his over-dramatic facade. “Tommy. Now, is that any way a prince should speak?”

“Oh, shut up, man, you do it too!”

“In moderation,” Wilbur clarifies, smirking. “You, on the other hand, have the mouth of a sailor.”

Tommy opens his mouth to retort, but ends up spiralling into a coughing fit. Wilbur rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and Tommy waves a hand as he hacks and wheezes.

“I’m fine, I’m—“

There’s another knock on the door, and before Tommy can react, Wilbur is patting his shoulder and standing. “I’ll get it, Tom. You sit tight and get comfy again, yeah?”

Tommy nods, watching as Wilbur approaches the door. He can’t see who’s on the other side, but based on Wilbur’s joyful exclamation, he can make a pretty good guess.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Tommy.”

“Hello to you too,” Tommy grumbles as his father approaches the bed, the smile on his face contradicting his scolding words. He takes a seat roughly where Wilbur was just moments before, reaching over to ruffle Tommy’s dishevelled hair.

“Wil and I have been talking,” Phil starts, running a hand through his hair. He’s not wearing his crown, which isn’t something Tommy sees every day. “You only seem to be getting sicker, and we hate seeing you looking… well, like shit. So, I’m gonna head over to Flowerfell and grab some medicine. Word is their stuff is super effective against colds and such.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “Why not just get stuff from here? It’d save you the long-ass trip.”

“Endlantis’ medicine is crap, Tommy, why do you think Phil gets so many complaints every day from sick people?” Wilbur plants his hands on his hips and Phil throws him a look, clearly not impressed by his interjection.

“Yes, like Wilbur just said, our medicine isn’t the best at the moment. I am working on improving that, but for now, it’d be best to outsource for better results. Plus, the royals over there owe me a favour anyway.”

“So,” Tommy bites his lip, “you’re leaving?”

“Only for a little while.” Phil stands, turning and gently pushing Tommy until he’s laying down again. “You’ll be fine, I’ve left you two alone before.”

“Yeah, but—“ Tommy swallows. “You’ve got someone to stand in for you, yeah? By the sounds of it, this all seems to be on really short notice…”

Phil chuckles, crossing his arms. “It was a little difficult to find someone, but I did manage to sort that out in advance.”

Tommy turns onto his side, hugging his pillow and tucking his knees up towards his chest. “It’s not Jack Manifold again, is it? Hate that guy.”

“You only don’t like him because he lectured you about ‘princely behaviour’,” Wilbur throws up air quotes, “one time! He’s actually a great guy once you get to know him.”

Tommy flips Wilbur the bird. Phil sighs, running a hand down his face as he shakes his head. “No, Tom, it isn’t Jack. You two haven’t met this one before.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tommy says, at the same time Wilbur’s eyebrows raise.

“Okay, now I’m curious.” Mischievous twinkle in his eye, Wilbur grabs Phil’s arm. “Who is it, Phil, tell us.”

“Bruh, I’m getting to it,” Phil says, gently prying Wilbur off of him. Tommy throws the blanket back over himself, sniffling. “He’s been a friend of mine for a really long time, even before the two of you were born. His name is Technoblade.”

“Technoblade?” Wilbur’s eyes grow big, and Tommy pokes his head out from his bundle. “That’s such a badass name, what the hell?”

Tommy wishes to express similar excitement, but winds up in another fit of dry, wheezing coughs. Fuck’s sake, he thinks, huffing when Wilbur’s fingers tangle themselves into his hair.

Phil sees himself out a few minutes later, promising he’ll try his best to be back within forty-eight hours; possibly less depending on the Flowerfell royals’ attitude. Tommy and Wilbur share quiet snickers at that, knowing better than anyone how hard it can be to communicate with them, especially on their bad days.

“Techno should be here in an hour,” is the last thing the boys’ father says to them before they’re left to their own devices. At least until Techno arrives.

Tommy immediately begins whining.

The main door of the castle swings open, a gust of cold air rushing inside. Attention falls on the stranger who steps inside, the castle staff momentarily abandoning their work to stare at him with gazes of varying scepticism.

“Relex, everyone, quit lookin’ at me like that.” The stranger places his hands on his hips. “Your king sent me to keep an eye on things while he’s gone. Don’t tell me he didn’t say anything?”

He’s met with deafening silence. He sighs. “Figures. He’s an old man; of course he forgot.” He reaches his arms out on either side of himself, grinning. “Bow down before me, peasants, for I am the mighty Technoblade.”

More silence. Techno’s face falls, and his arms flop back down to his sides. “Bruh.”

“Technoblade?”

Techno’s gaze moves towards a nearby staircase, where a young man with a faint white streak in his hair has descended, coming to a stop at the bottom as his left hand slides off the rail. His clothing is much more regal than that of the staff, and a shiny, golden crown sits atop his head.

“Ah.” Techno takes a step forward, bowing his head slightly. “Prince Wilbur, I presume?”

Prince Wilbur smiles, nodding once. “My father told me you would be coming. On his behalf, allow me to extend a warm welcome to Endlantis.”

Techno chuckles, quietly enough that only he is able to hear it. He can’t help it; the kid just sounds so polite, too much so for his age, in Techno’s humble opinion. However, if being friends with Phil has taught him anything, this isn’t the prince’s true personality. Far from it, in fact.

“If you’d like, I can show you to your room. I imagine you’ll want to get your bearings and make yourself at home before you begin your duties.”

Techno grins. “Sounds great. Lead the way.”

The moment Techno and Wilbur reach the top of the stairs, Wilbur leans against the nearby wall, breaking into fits of giggles. The laughter is delightfully contagious, and Techno quickly finds himself joining in.

“Oh–” Wilbur snorts, wheezing at the pitch of an old tea kettle. “Oh my god, I almost couldn’t keep myself together, holy shit–” He starts fanning his face with a hand, taking a breath. “Sorry, sorry, I just– I’ve not had to do that for a while.”

“‘S alright,” Techno says, lifting his arms above his head and stretching. “Now, I know you mentioned showin’ me my room, but I hear there’s a sick child I wanna check up on first.”

Wilbur blinks. “Ah– of course!” He approaches the nearby hall, motioning for Techno to follow. “C’mon, I’ll bring you to him.”

Tommy can hear voices out in the hall. Though he recognises one, belonging to Wilbur, the other is strange and unfamiliar. His best guess is that it belongs to the aforementioned Technoblade.

The voices are just outside his room now. Someone knocks, and the door swings open. Tommy reaches for the tissue box, blowing his congested nose as Wilbur enters, Technoblade – or whoever it may be – trailing behind.

“Tommy! My best brother in the whole wide world,” Wilbur exclaims, flopping down onto the bed as Tommy sits up, despite knowing he really should just keep himself comfortable so he can rest. Wilbur extends an arm towards his company. “Meet Technoblade.”

Technoblade performs a half-hearted salute with two fingers, smiling softly. “Hey there, Tommy. Oh, and you guys can call me Techno if you want. Less of a mouthful, plus it’s what your dad calls me, so…”

“Is that your real name?” Tommy asks, completely out of the blue. Techno blinks, visibly taken aback by the question. “I mean— don’t get me wrong, Technoblade is a badass name, but it just doesn’t seem like something a parent would name their kid, y’know?”

Techno laughs. “Alright, alright, you caught me. The name ‘Technoblade’ is just an alias.”

Tommy’s eyes light up. Wilbur sighs quietly, shaking his head and smiling fondly. “So what’s your actual name?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.” Tommy pouts, and Wilbur giggles. “Names and aliases aside, I think the first order of business before I begin my royal duties is to make sure you don’t starve to death.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Phil would actually kill me if one of his kids died on my watch.”

Tommy immediately retreats back underneath the blanket, and muffled sneezes can be heard moments later. Wilbur places his hand on the lump and pushes. Tommy yelps, but doesn’t emerge from his cocoon.

“C’mon, Tom, let Techno feed you.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Tommy responds, and Wilbur can imagine he’s being flipped the bird from within. “I can feed myself.”

“Yeah, but in that condition, I doubt you’ll be getting up to even make the food,” Techno interjects. “I’ll make you some soup, yeah?” Wilbur stands up, stretching, and Tommy huffs, defeated.

“…Mushroom?”

Techno nods, despite Tommy not being able to see him. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Technoblade sticks around for roughly two days. Tommy doesn’t find himself recovering at all, but the frequent visits from his brother and stand-in king at least make things bearable.

Wilbur slips in whenever he can between his tasks, when the castle staff’s gazes aren’t fixed on him. They chat, mostly about the annoying people Wilbur has to deal with. He claims that Tommy would handle them better. Tommy agrees.

Techno’s visits are less frequent, but Tommy doesn’t complain. Most of the time, he brings food, and even manages to smuggle a few desserts Phil had specifically informed the kitchen not to let Tommy get his hands on. When Tommy isn’t dying of a coughing fit or constantly sneezing, Techno lets him roam around the room for a time, as opposed to being confined to his bed like Phil instructed. They agree to keep quiet about it.

When Phil returns, the medicine he brings is a blessing. If he were able, Tommy would guzzle the entire contents. By the end of the day, he feels like a whole new prince. A whole new Tommy.

Techno is gone by the time Tommy ventures beyond his room. When he eventually finds Wilbur within the big, empty halls, he’s led to the study, where, tucked away in a hidden space, are some more sweet treats, a folded note placed carefully on top of them. Tommy doesn’t recognise the handwriting, but when he looks to Wilbur for an answer, his brother simply smiles.

Enjoy, Theseus - T

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #technoblade #sleepy bois inc #sbi #royal au #sickfic #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Submerged

Summary: Logan's job at the aquarium comes with its fair share of benefits. A decent paycheck, a close-up view of the plethora of marine life the institution has on display, and a mer person for a boyfriend. Of course, that doesn't mean there are not also risks, most of which stem from the shenanigans of the brown-haired, tentacled man floating idly in a lone fish tank. Pairings: Logan/Remus Warnings: Drowning Characters: Logan, Remus Notes: Written for the TSS Fanworks Collective's January Remix Challenge! This is a remix of @the-princey-pie's fic, Entangled. [AO3 link]

There are many benefits to being a marine biologist. Unfortunately for Logan, he isn’t quite that privileged. Yet. Rather than having the opportunity to professionally examine a plethora of aquatic lifeforms, he is simply the equivalent of a janitor at the local aquarium, wiping the glass surfaces of the tanks clean of dirt and grubby fingerprints after closing.

Thankfully, this monotonous task is made ever so slightly more bearable by a certain person: Logan’s significant other. He goes by Remus, but contrary to what people may believe upon hearing that name, he’s far from human. Conveniently enough, he also happens to live in the very aquarium Logan works at, making it laughably easy for the two of them to meet. Most of the time, they simply engage in some idle conversation, allowing Logan to focus on his job while still giving his boyfriend the attention he demands. Some days, however, Remus gets… a little carried away. This, of course, leads to all sorts of trouble every single time, without fail.

Today is no different.

“Logan,” Remus whines, his nasally voice echoing throughout the large, empty room. Some of the water in his tank splashes over the edge as he fidgets eagerly, his tentacles wiggling. “Logan, my trout-ed love, I desire love and affection from my darling boyfriend.”

Logan’s expression is blank, devoid of any sort of visible emotion. He squints at the surface of a nearby tank and begins wiping away a smudge, watching Remus out of the corner of his eye. “I will give you as much attention as you want when I’m done. You know full well I cannot slack off under any circumstances.”

Remus pouts, leaning forward until he’s practically hanging out of his tank. “Not even for me?” he says, fluttering his lashes.

“Not even for you,” Logan confirms, running a hand through his dishevelled, sweaty hair. He removes his glasses and pulls a sleeve over his hand to wipe the lens before placing them back on his face, waiting a moment for his vision to readjust before turning to face his boyfriend. “Now, I need to get into your tank to clean the inside. No funny business, alright?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, coraling.” Remus winks, sinking back into the water, and Logan feels a faint buildup of dread. He gets the feeling he might as well accept his imminent fate; Remus isn’t exactly the type of person to simply take no for an answer and move on. Retrieving his wetsuit, he heads to the employee break room, emerging several minutes later with his work clothes in his arms. Tossing them onto a nearby bench, he returns to Remus’ tank, gesturing for him to move aside as he removes his glasses and gathers the items he requires for the operation: a waterlife safe synthetic sponge, goggles, and his submersible breathing apparatus. Remus sticks his tentacles to the glass to stabilise his centre of gravity, watching with loving eyes as Logan climbs into the tank, shuddering when he makes contact with the cold water.

Placing the breathing apparatus in his mouth, Logan ducks his head beneath the water, immediately getting to work wiping down the smudged, ink-stained glass. Meanwhile, Remus remains suspiciously still, staying out of Logan’s way as he works diligently. Five minutes pass, then ten… Eventually, Logan is finished, every surface of the inner tank practically sparkling. Satisfied with his work, he moves to exit the tank, though he can’t help but wonder why Remus was so compliant this time around. Honestly, he expected him to–

Slimy, wet tentacles wrap around Logan’s torso without any semblance of a warning whatsoever, startling him so badly he almost spits out his breathing apparatus. He’s pulled into Remus’ chest, and though he’s embarrassed to admit it, he partially melts into the embrace, momentarily forgetting that he is still on the clock. Though they’re underwater, Logan can still feel Remus’ warm breath tickling his ear as he leans in close, moustache twitching.

“Y’know, sea shelly mine,” Remus murmurs, stroking Logan’s face with a tentacle and bumping their foreheads together, grinning. “You look pretty good in that wetsuit.”

Logan’s cheeks burn, and he curls in on himself, though Remus does not release him from the embrace. Making use of a tentacle once again, he tucks it under Logan’s chin and lifts his head. The two of them lock eyes, and Remus giggles.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”

The tentacle withdraws, and before Logan has a chance to react, his breathing apparatus has been practically ripped out of his mouth. While he’s still underwater. Which, as any normal person could easily figure out, is very bad. Having managed to hold his breath just before the apparatus was removed, Logan begins to squirm in Remus’ hold, the agonising urge to breathe quickly washing over him as the seconds pass. Remus leans in close, eyeballing Logan’s lips, but upon seeing his strained expression, he stops. His brow furrows, though his grip on his boyfriend only tightens.

“Logan?” Logan’s vision begins to warp and blur, and he can tell it isn’t because of the water. “Hey, what’s–”

The breathing reflex kicks in before Logan is consciously aware of it. A large mouthful of water rushes down his throat, and he starts coughing, tears building up in his eyes. Remus’ eyes widen as Logan begins fighting to escape his grasp, thrashing and kicking. The colour slowly drains from his face, and the situation finally clicks for Remus.

Remus is mer. Logan isn’t. Remus can breathe underwater. Logan can’t. At least not without the device Remus just pulled out of his mouth.

“Fuck.” Logan is visibly losing steam, his eyes dull. Eventually, he goes limp, and a lump lodges itself into Remus' throat. “Shit–” Wracking his brain for Logan’s advice regarding a drowning – that’s what this is, right? – he chooses to start with the most logical action: getting Logan out of the water. It takes some time, but he’s eventually able to safely get the two of them out of the tank, though he’s left with a few sore tentacles. In his defence, how was he supposed to know the fall from the tank would be so far? Alright, that’s off topic– off topic. He may have Logan back on land, but that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear.

A glint in the corner of Remus’ eye catches his attention, and he looks over at the bench where Logan left his work clothes. The shine appears to be coming from the sun reflecting on–

Logan's phone.

“It’s best to contact emergency services if possible. Paramedics are better equipped to handle those kinds of situations. If it comes to that, you just have to dial their number…”

Remus has Logan’s phone in his grasp before he can really think about it. Upon turning it on, he’s prompted to enter a passcode. Luckily, he’s seen Logan enter it a number of times, so unlocking the device poses no issue. Recalling his boyfriend’s description of the app that is required to make the call, he taps on the green box with a white image of a wired phone, opening the dial screen. Remus has the number memorised; just three simple digits.

911.

He presses call.

Logan wakes to a pressure on his chest and the lingering taste of bile on his tongue. He’s turned onto his side as he begins coughing, water spilling from his mouth and onto the tiled floor. His head spins, his vision swimming, though despite his dazed state, he recognises that he is still in the aquarium. A face peers down at him with concern, but it isn’t one he recognises. The stranger calls out to someone Logan cannot see before smiling back down at him and wrapping something around his upper arm.

“Hi there,” the stranger says, glancing at something beside them for a brief moment before shifting their attention back to Logan once again. “My name’s Thomas, I’m a paramedic.” Logan’s eyes widen, and the paramedic – clearly instinctively – places a hand firmly on his shoulder, likely expecting him to fight– or at least something to that effect. “Sorry– Hey, there’s no need to panic, alright? We’re just making sure you’re okay. We received a call for a drowning, and by the looks of things, you seem to have gotten pretty lucky. We’re probably gonna take you back to the hospital for a proper examination just so we can make absolutely sure you’re not still at risk.”

Logan nods, keeping as still as possible as the paramedics continue to bustle around him, the beeping of their machines ringing in his ears. Thomas stays by his side, the hand on Logan’s shoulder keeping him grounded. During this time, however, he has the lingering feeling that he’s forgetting something…

It doesn’t take him too long to figure it out.

“Remus,” Logan gasps, reaching up to grab Thomas’ sleeve. “Where– Where’s Remus?”

Thomas blinks, his brow furrowing in thought. “Uh… I don’t think any of us saw anyone else around when we got here.” His eyes suddenly light up with revelation. “Now that I think about it, I remember hearing something about this being an anonymous call. Could that have been him?”

Logan exhales shakily and nods again. “Yes, I… I believe that would have been him.”

Thomas begins gnawing on his lip, glancing around without really looking at anything in particular. “Okay… Well, if you give us his phone number, someone could–”

“No.” The response escapes before Logan can stop it. “No, that– That won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? It really wouldn’t be a problem–”

“I’m sure.” It would be all well and good if Remus were human, but Logan has an inkling the hospital staff wouldn’t exactly have an ordinary reaction to a man with tentacles walking in and asking to see his boyfriend who almost drowned in his own tank at an aquarium. Things wouldn’t end well, to say the least.

“Alright…” Thomas doesn’t press any further, though that gentle look of concern settles back onto his face. “Well, do you have any other family we could call? Parents? Siblings?”

Logan’s silence is enough of an answer. Thomas releases a slow breath before looking over his shoulder, calling another paramedic over as the others around them start packing up the machines and other equipment, making room for another to hurriedly walk inside, pushing a stretcher in with them.

“We’re gonna get you loaded into the ambulance now,” Thomas murmurs, smiling. “Like I said, this is just a precaution, so don’t worry. Chances are you’ll be fine, and you’ll be out of the hospital in just a few hours.”

Logan doesn’t doubt that. Cases similar to his are rarely ever kept longer than what is necessary for a simple observation. If he’s lucky, he’ll be home before nightfall. He says nothing as the paramedics load him onto a stretcher, refraining from commenting that it isn’t really necessary, even if it is ‘just a precaution’.

Getting Logan outside and into the ambulance takes several minutes, as the paramedics are forced to navigate the labyrinth-like structure of the aquarium. They don’t get lost though, and Logan is rather impressed. When he first started working here, it took him at least three weeks to get the hang of navigating the entire building. Images of Remus’ concerned expression back inside the tank flash in his mind’s eye, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Yes, what Remus did was incredibly stupid, but Logan knows he didn’t do it intentionally. He gets a bit too excitable for his own good at times, and to be honest, Logan can’t really blame him. They don’t see each other too often, so what little time they get to spend time together will always be treasured by the both of them.

Of course, with all this in mind, Logan still plans to have a conversation with his boyfriend the next time they see each other. Not later today, though; that’ll simply be him assuring Remus that he’s okay and that he isn’t going to die. After that, though, Logan intends to have very stern words with his partner. He will reiterate that he isn’t angry; he simply wants to make sure Remus is absolutely sure of the difference between humans and mer, if just for the sake of preventing a repeat of this incident.

He just hopes Remus will actually listen.

#sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #alternate universe #mer au #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

When I’m Graced by Your Presence (I Couldn’t Care)

Summary: Ranboo’s arrival on the SMP catches the attention of a mischievous Avian, who promptly drags him into a life of crime, pranks, and various other shenanigans.

Or: Five times Ranboo is ‘unwillingly’ dragged into Tommy’s mischief, and one time he embraces the chaos. Characters: Tommy, Ranboo, Phil, Techno, Wilbur, Jack Manifold, Sneeg, Tubbo Relationships: O!Alliumduo Warnings: None Notes: This fic was written for Fire on Ice (who’s AO3 can be found here) as part of The Writer’s Block Secret Santa! Credit for the title goes to AlexTwisted; their AO3 can be found here. [AO3 link]

In Ranboo’s humble opinion, based on what he’s seen, the stories he’s been told about the Overworld do very little justice to the realm and its unique beauty. The lush greens and soft blues are a stark yet welcome contrast to the deep purples of his home realm, and many things he finds are completely new discoveries, having never been allowed to venture beyond the End.

Then, of course, there’s the rain. The bane of any Enderian’s existence, as it’s basically their worst enemy falling from the sky. It doesn’t exist in the End, but there are many horror stories surrounding its deadly nature towards those who are not accustomed to it. Ranboo is grateful he doesn’t have to deal with it to the extent he would if he were out alone in the wild, and that’s thanks to one man: Philza Minecraft, who found him and brought him along to the SMP; a place where Origins live together without issue – for the most part.

The SMP is a big place. So, Phil proposes a tour.

“That floating island in the middle is the Pube,” Phil explains as he and Ranboo walk up to the edge of a large crater, a waterfall in the centre leading up to a building sat atop a floating rock of some sort. “The name was Wil’s idea. Tommy wasn’t too happy with it at first, but he warmed up to it pretty fast.”

Ranboo’s brow furrows, and his head tilts slightly to the side, like a wolf in the presence of a bone. Noticing his confusion, Phil smiles, chuckling quietly.

“Sorry— Wilbur and Tommy are my kids. Phantom and Avian. They’re little shits, just as a warning, but I’m sure you could just teleport away if they annoy you or something.”

“Uh huh.” Ranboo nods slowly, not really paying attention as his gaze drifts over to a nearby bush, which is rustling an awful lot despite there not being much wind. Then, a mop of dirty blond hair pops out, followed by a pair of piercing blue eyes staring into Ranboo’s soul. Goosebumps begin to prickle all over Ranboo’s skin, and he quickly glances away, taking in a steady, soothing breath before looking back over, pointedly directing his gaze off just slightly to the side.

The boy glances down at something Ranboo cannot see, and a moment later, his communicator buzzes.

TommyInnit whispers to you: You’re new

Ranboo blinks. Tommy. This must be one of the kids Phil mentioned, unless there’s somehow multiple people with the name Tommy running around. However, judging by the few feathers he can see through the leaves, he’s confident that this is indeed Phil’s child. Well, one of them, at least.

You whisper to TommyInnit: Yep. Name’s Ranboo

TommyInnit whispers to you: yes ik I can see your name on the comm dipshit

Ranboo huffs amusedly. If these messages are anything to go by, this kid has one hell of a sharp tongue, and he can’t quite determine whether that’s good or bad.

TommyInnit whispers to you: Anyway come over here will you??? And don’t let phil see you

Ranboo sighs quietly, pocketing his communicator and turning back to Phil, who is now looking at him expectantly.

“Uh…” Ranboo’s ears press against the sides of his head, and he glances far off to one side. “Could we, um… pick this back up a little later? If that’s okay? I… just remembered I have something I need to do, a-and it’s really urgent.”

For some reason, Ranboo has this nagging feeling that suggests he doesn’t expect Phil to believe him. But he does. Rather than express scepticism regarding his sudden departure, he instead smiles, assuring Ranboo that he can contact him whenever he wants to resume the tour. He waits for Phil to turn and begin walking away before he teleports over to the bush, appearing right beside Tommy, who leaps out of the foliage with a shriek. His wings puff out, and his eyes grow to the size of saucers. Ranboo isn’t entirely sure what the expression means, but he feels it’s appropriate, as Tommy’s eyes are indeed very wide.

“Fuck, I forgot you guys can do that,” Tommy mutters, exhaling sharply. “Why the hell do Enderians get all the cool abilities—”

Ranboo crosses his arms, and his ears twitch. It takes several seconds, but Tommy eventually notices and clears his throat awkwardly before planting his hands on his hips, jutting out his chin. In response to this, Ranboo simply raises an eyebrow, but Tommy doesn’t waver.

“Anyway, you, my newcomer friend—”

“We aren’t friends—”

“—seem like the perfect person to help me with some of my devious plans.”

Ranboo’s brow furrows. “And by ‘devious plans’, you’re referring to…?”

Tommy throws his hands up into the air, holding his head high. “Pranks, of course!”

There’s a beat of silence, and Ranboo swears he hears the faint sound of crickets chirping somewhere off in the distance. After a moment, Tommy drops his arms and they flop down to his sides, while his head lowers to an acceptable angle. Evidently taken aback by Ranboo’s lack of a response, he steps forward, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Sooo, you’re gonna help me, right?”

Ranboo rolls his eyes, though he’s somewhat relieved this kid doesn’t seem to want to murder anyone, and instead just wants to play harmless jokes. Murderous tendencies are very common in the End, though he personally has never seen the appeal of killing others simply for your own amusement.

“Absolutely not.”

Tommy’s expectant expression almost immediately shifts into one of confusion and very subtle anger. “Ay?!”

“We literally just met,” Ranboo explains, as if that’s not already painfully obvious. “I haven’t even been properly shown around yet, and yet there’s this tiny chicken wanting me to be his partner in crime.”

Much like a fish, Tommy’s mouth opens and closes several times without a single sound escaping. His hands fall back down to his sides again, curling up into fists which tightly grasp handfuls of his shirt.

“Right, first off, fuck you.” Ranboo raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Second, I’ve just decided you don’t get a choice in this situation.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, dickhead.” Before Ranboo can protest, Tommy lunges forward and grabs one of his arms. The tactile contact with his skin means he’s unable to teleport away, and so he’s forced to allow this child to drag him in the vague direction Phil went when the two of them parted ways just minutes ago.

Ranboo will be honest; this isn’t how he expected his first day here to play out at all.

“Alright, now if I know Philza Minecraft – which I do – he’s definitely fucked off to some random-ass cave to get diamonds.” Tommy’s grip on Ranboo’s arm loosens for a brief moment, and Ranboo takes the opportunity to free himself from his grasp, scowling.

“Well, if that’s the case, then how do you expect to find him?”

Tommy smirks, pulling out his communicator and tapping something out. A few seconds later, it buzzes, and Tommy grins.

“Very easily, my Enderian comrade,” Tommy says, pocketing the device. “Phil just sent me his coordinates.”

Right, Ranboo forgot that’s a thing. “Ah.”

Tommy hops forward, frantically beckoning Ranboo to follow. “C’mon, we gotta find him!”

Reluctantly, Ranboo trails behind Tommy as they start walking again, his ears hanging low. “What’s your plan once we find him, exactly…?”

Tommy giggles, glancing over his shoulder. “Wanna know a secret?”

Ranboo raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Sure…?”

Tommy looks back in front of him, and Ranboo focuses his gaze on the white and red feathers protruding from the kid’s back. They’re rather dishevelled, but not in such a way which indicates a lack of preening. Rather, it seems as if the wings have grown out in a very awkward manner. It’s unlikely they’re suited for prolonged flight.

“Phil’s biggest weakness…” Tommy pauses, presumably for dramatic effect, “is baby zombies.”

Zombies. Ranboo has heard of those; mobs which resemble deceased persons walking. He has yet to encounter one, but the stories he’s heard assure him that defeating it will be a rather easy feat. He’s heard very little about their baby counterparts, but he knows better than to underestimate anything in this world.

“Because I like him,” Tommy continues, “we aren’t going to do anything too extreme. We’re just gonna sneak in and pretend some of those little fuckers are coming to kill him.”

I doubt he’d believe you. “And how exactly are you planning on pulling that off?”

“Oh, I’ve done shit like this a lot. You just imitate the mob where they can’t see you and they freak the hell out.”

Okay, that… kind of makes sense, Ranboo has to admit. However…

“This seems like it’d just be a one-man job, though. Why am I getting dragged into this?”

“Because pulling pranks alone is boring, and nobody wants to help me anymore. You get sick of the isolation after a while, trust me.” Tommy then comes to an abrupt stop, causing Ranboo to almost bump into him. In front of them is a small cave, lined with stone. Ranboo can hear the faint sound of running water echoing within, and a shiver runs down his spine.

“This is it.” Tommy leaps towards the entrance, his wings slowly flapping to give himself some additional airtime. Ranboo lines himself up to follow, teleporting just beside Tommy’s landing zone. This is Ranboo’s last chance to back out, but he gets the feeling the kid wouldn’t allow it. He supposes he can tolerate Tommy for just a bit longer, and then he can get back to finishing the tour – assuming Phil doesn’t disown him after this – and establishing his place in the community.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ranboo mutters, and the two of them step into the cave. Immediately, Ranboo is overwhelmed by a plethora of sounds he doesn’t recognise, and he stares into the infinite darkness which greets them. Suddenly, light floods the area, and Ranboo turns to see Tommy holding a torch. Without a word, he bounds forward, and Ranboo continues to follow. An indeterminate amount of time later, they arrive at an area which appears to have been deliberately dug out, and as the two of them turn a corner, Phil comes into view, back facing them as he rummages through a chest haphazardly placed on the ground.

Tommy’s eyes are practically sparkling.

In Ranboo’s opinion, it’s absolutely for the wrong reasons.

“I suddenly regret letting you drag me into this.”

Tommy doesn’t respond, and Ranboo realises he’s moved forward, and is now slowly creeping towards Phil. Ranboo opens his mouth, either to stop Tommy or warn Phil – he isn’t too sure himself, but Tommy acts before he gets a chance to intervene. Faux groans and snarls echo through the cave system, though they’re not as deep as what Ranboo has been told zombies sound like. Well, Tommy did mention baby zombies specifically, so that isn’t too surprising. He’s simply imitating the youths of the species.

Phil flinches, almost dropping the armful of logs he’s retrieved from the chest. “Fucking— Christ, Tommy.” He tosses the logs aside, turning to face the boy. “Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that, you little shit—”

Tommy is in hysterics. Ranboo watches from afar, utterly perplexed. His confusion only grows when Phil starts laughing too. When the laughter eventually dies down, Phil ruffles Tommy’s hair, chuckling. “Alright, alright, you got me. I’ll admit, your impression is getting better, Tom.”

Ranboo hears a faint gasp. “Really?”

“Mhm, though I’m not sure whether I should be proud or scared.”

Tommy snorts, and there’s silence for a beat.

“Oh, by the way, you haven’t been bothering Ranboo, have you? I know how you get with new people…”

Tommy freezes, and Ranboo notices his body tense up. “Uh—”

“You did, didn't you.”

“…Yes.”

Treating the response as some sort of cue, Ranboo teleports into view. As if expecting his arrival, Phil simply smiles, while Tommy is visibly fighting to hold in another bout of laughter.

“For the record,” Ranboo starts, “I did absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah, because you’re a prick,” Tommy mutters, squawking indignantly when one of Phil’s wings smacks him upside the head.

“You’re such a dick to people, Tom,” Phil says, but the words lack any malice. He looks at Ranboo, though diverts his gaze slightly from his eyes, which he appreciates. “See what I meant when I said he’s a little shit?”

Ranboo huffs out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, I may have underestimated his, uh… determination.”

Phil wraps a wing around Tommy, pulling him close. “As expected, he takes after his big brother. Both of you are persistent as fuck.”

“Fuck off, it’s a talent.”

“Whatever you say.”

Ranboo suddenly feels very awkward. This… isn’t how he expected this prank to go. At all. Would this even count as a prank? It honestly felt more like some sort of troll. Clearly, Overworlders are much stranger than he initially assumed.

On a related note, he gets the feeling that, for the duration of his time here, he will be witnessing many more feats of TommyInnit, the Prank Master.

Tommy’s hypothetical words, not his.

“There appears to be a child skulking around my farm.”

Ranboo looks up from his inventory interface, just in time to catch the approach of a very grumpy looking Bunny. Over their shoulder, Ranboo can see the impromptu carrot farm set up on the outskirts of the SMP, and it doesn’t take him long to notice a familiar face hiding out in one of the trees.

“I take it this is typical Tommy behaviour?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Ranboo’s communicator buzzes, but he ignores it. “Good to know you’re quick to catch on.”

“I’ve been here a week; I’d like to think that’s enough time to get to know the people here, Techno. Plus, I had an encounter with him on my first day, so I’m well aware of his, uh… antics.”

“Ah, that’s right, Phil mentioned you got dragged into his mischief not long after you got here.” Techno chuckles. “Happens to the best of us.”

Ranboo’s communicator buzzes again.

“You should really answer that.”

It buzzes twice more.

“Yep, okay— Yeah, I should.”

He retrieves the device from his pocket, dismissing the interface in front of him as he pulls up the recent messages.

TommyInnit whispers to you: Ranboo TommyInnit whispers to you: answer me dickhead TommyInnit whispers to you: lure techno away TommyInnit whispers to you: I wanna mess with his shit

“Judgin’ by the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s Tommy.”

Ranboo nods. He isn’t surprised Techno can tell; he’s been told on numerous occasions that he has a very readable face. Whether that’s a compliment or an insult, however, he has no idea.

Techno sighs, but Ranboo catches a glimpse of a faint smile playing about his lips.

“Well, lucky for him, I have to go meet Scott. Said I’d help him with somethin’. Unfortunately, it involves leaving my precious carrot farm vulnerable to attack, but alas, this is how it must be.”

How subtle, Ranboo thinks, though he chooses not to comment. He simply watches Techno walk away, half expecting him to turn back and wink just to add the cherry on top of his very obvious scheme. Unfortunately for Techno and his noble sacrifice, Ranboo absolutely does not want to be dragged into any more of TommyInnit’s shenanigans.

He glances down at his communicator again.

TommyInnit whispers to you: wow that was fast TommyInnit whispers to you: idk what you did but it worked so I’m not complaining TommyInnit whispers to you: won’t force you to help out this time I just need you to pretend you never saw me TommyInnit whispers to you: I’ll kick your ass if I find out you snitched though

Ranboo’s been given an out. Unlike last time, he isn’t being forced to participate, and he gets the feeling Phil’s scolding — could it be considered that? — in the mine contributed to that. All he has to do is walk away and deny that he ever saw Tommy anywhere near Techno’s carrot farm.

However, the pull of curiosity is a powerful force.

You whisper to TommyInnit: what’re you planning on doing exactly??

A response comes through moments later.

TommyInnit whispers to you: replacing the carrot seeds with potato seeds TommyInnit whispers to you: had a stash lying around

Ah, Ranboo thinks, how convenient.

TommyInnit whispers to you: anyway run along now boob boy you don’t wanna be caught with the dirty crime boy while he’s on duty ;)

Ranboo’s nose scrunches up. Boob boy? What kind of nickname is that? He can’t possibly let this blatant slander slide, so, as Tommy floats down from his amateurish hiding spot, he teleports to the boy’s side. Tommy flinches, but doesn’t descend into a blathering mess of swears and other profanities, which… could be seen as some form of growth? Maybe? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

“What’re you doing?” are the first words out of Tommy’s mouth, his brow furrowing in what Ranboo recognises all too well as subtly masked scepticism. It’s a valid question; Ranboo isn’t too sure what he’s doing himself. Unlike last time, he’s been given the opportunity to walk away, and yet here he is, chasing this crime-obsessed child by choice.

He shrugs. “Keeping you company, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Dunno — Guess I’m just kinda curious about what stunt you’re gonna pull this time around.”

“Huh.” Tommy blinks. “After last time I almost thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong I still don’t; I’m literally only here to see what you do to Techno’s farm. Like I said, it’s pure curiosity, don’t read into it.”

Tommy snickers under his breath, biting his lip to hold back full-blown laughter. “Alright…”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever you say, boob boy.”

Choosing to ignore the nickname this time around, silently hoping it doesn’t stick, Ranboo follows Tommy over to the farm. He wrinkles his nose as the potent stench of damp dirt wafts up his nostrils, and he opts to watch from afar as Tommy gets to work, but not before being instructed to, “Keep an eye out for Techno, will ya?”

The operation only takes a few minutes, which comes as little surprise to Ranboo. It’s literally just replacing seeds in a field; it isn’t exactly anything glamorous. Per Tommy’s request, he keeps an eye out for Techno, though he doubts they’ll be caught.

“Ranboo!”

Ranboo squints against the midday sunlight, searching for Tommy who turns out to be a few paces away from the farm, looking as if he’s about to break out into a sprint.

“It’s done.” He grins, beckoning Ranboo towards him. “Let’s get outta here before anyone sees.”

Ranboo nods, teleporting to Tommy’s side. The two of them begin walking away from the scene, and then Ranboo’s communicator buzzes, because of course it does.

Technoblade whispers to you: yeah you two aren’t subtle at all

He can’t help but agree.

If Ranboo has learned anything since he arrived here, it’s that meetings at the Pube can get loud. Everyone gathered in one place creates a rowdy atmosphere by itself, but if you add unending idle chatter on top of that, the environment becomes borderline unbearable. Phil tries his hardest to reign in the chaos, but that normally takes up to ten minutes purely because everyone is caught up in their own personal conversations. This time, however, he seems to have given up on those feeble attempts. Ranboo can’t blame him.

“No, Tommy, listen— I know you’ve been through my shit. Don’t try to deny it; I know you’re the only one who’d have the balls to do it right under my nose.”

“Wilbur! I would never lay a finger on any of your precious belongings. I’m offended you’d accuse me of doing such a thing.”

“You are so full of shit—“

Ranboo glances over towards one of the far corners of the room, and, lo and behold, Tommy is there, arguing with a partially translucent man. Based on what he’s been told, he can safely assume this is Tommy’s brother, Wilbur.

“Uh–” Ranboo approaches the two, but shrinks back when both of them turn to look at him, their stares seemingly burning into his very soul. His ears press against the sides of his head, and he swallows the lump that has lodged itself into his throat. “Sorry, um– Am I interrupting something?”

What a stupid question; of course he’s interrupting something. For the love of Jean, the two of them were literally just arguing, or at the very least having a rather heated conversation.

Tommy waves a hand in his general direction, dismissive. “Just my beloved big brother accusing me of terrible crimes.”

“Yeah, except you absolutely committed them. Now hand over my stuff, muggle boy.”

Ranboo plants his hands on his hips, huffing out an exasperated sigh as the two of them continue to bicker. 

Brothers.

“I don’t have your shit, Wil! Look–” Tommy opens his inventory interface and shows it to Wilbur, who examines it closely. From Ranboo’s angle, he can’t see anything of substance; just some bread, a water bucket, a few stacks of cobblestone, and a set of tools.

“This is bullshit – I bet you’ve stashed it somewhere–”

“Okay, okay,” Ranboo interrupts, stepping between the two, “settle down, boys.”

To their credit, Tommy and Wilbur do step down, but not before throwing one last scathing glare at each-other.

“Now,” Ranboo pinches the bridge of his nose, “what’s got you two fighting like this? Phil’s already got enough on his plate as it is, so if the need arises, y’know, maybe I can help.”

Without uttering a word in response, Wilbur crosses his arms, closes his eyes, and drops through the floor. Tommy shrieks, and subsequently begins cursing up a storm when Wilbur rises up behind him and grabs him by the shoulders.

“This dirty crime boy,” Wilbur says, shaking Tommy from side to side, “stole from my stash of precious valuables right under my nose.”

“I did not!” Tommy shoves Wilbur off. “Don’t listen to him, Ranboo; I’d never do such a thing to my dear brother.”

“You can deny it all you want—“

Wilbur proceeds to rant on and on; Ranboo quickly stops listening. Glancing towards Tommy, he sees the kid staring at him with enlarged eyes, his lips quivering way too much for it to be genuine.

Is he seriously giving me the puppy-dog eyes right now?

This isn’t a court of law; Ranboo shouldn’t have to step in to defend Tommy on his behalf. The kid has proven he’s more than capable of handling himself in much worse situations than a petty fight with his brother, but he suspects this is yet another one of his schemes.

It’s another example of an opportunity to walk away he doesn’t take.

“Y’know, Wil,” Ranboo interrupts, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous smile plays on his lips, “I’m pretty sure you went rummaging through Tommy’s blocks the other day. Probably isn’t my place to say this, but…”

Wilbur’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“I dunno—“ Ranboo shrugs. Time to deliver the final blow. “Maybe this is karma for your crimes.”

Tommy loses his shit. Wilbur looks like he’s just taken psychic damage, and for the first time since Ranboo approached, the man seems genuinely lost for words. Tommy barks out a laugh, eliciting confused and mildly irritated stares.

“I— Wha—” Wilbur glances between Tommy and Ranboo, helpless. “You’re siding with him?”

“You’re damn right he is!” Ranboo flinches as Tommy claps him heartily on the back — likely because he’s too short to reach his shoulders. “That’s what you get for stealing my blocks, fucker.”

Wilbur is unimpressed.

“I actually hate you.” There is no malice behind his words, and Tommy simply sticks his tongue out at him. Wilbur rolls his eyes and fondly ruffles Tommy’s hair, confusing Ranboo greatly. Weren’t they literally just fighting?

Oh, right, he thinks. Brothers.

Wilbur flicks Tommy on the back of the head, dropping through the floor again when he yelps. Tommy scrambles to grab him, but has no luck. He and Ranboo fall silent, not making a sound for several seconds until Ranboo pipes up.

“Well.” Ranboo blinks. “That was… a thing.”

Tommy snorts. “Can’t believe you actually managed to shut him up. Pretty sure you just saved my ass, big man.”

“Yeah, sure— Okay, I have to know; did you seriously steal stuff from him?”

Tommy’s eyes twinkle. The expression is all too familiar.

“Technically, no.” He glances around, and his voice drops to a whisper. Ranboo has to lean in to hear him over the chatter. “I made Shelby do it.”

Ranboo’s eyes grow wide. “Shubble? How’d you manage that?”

“Bribed her with food for Nunubu,” Tommy responds.

“That’s all?”

“The fuck’s that mean?”

“I dunno.” Ranboo shrugs. “I guess I assumed she’d want something more valuable.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to fuck with Wilbur by asking for something I couldn’t deliver.”

“...Fair enough,” Ranboo responds.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the Pube, a floating Jack-o-Lantern sits in a corner, its gaze fixed on the Avian and Enderian. A feminine giggle emerges from it, the subtle reverberation bouncing off the wooden walls. A translucent body fades into view, and long, dark brown hair billows out from their headwear. They remove the Jack-o-Lantern, revealing bright yellow eyes which shine much like the sun. Upon pocketing the item, they begin toying with something else from their inventory; something that doesn’t necessarily belong to them.

Shubble has made the advancement [Diamonds!]

“Ranboo!”

Jack Manifold’s shout catches Ranboo off guard. The bucket of milk in his arms almost topples to the ground, but after fumbling for a brief moment, he manages to catch it before any of the liquid has the opportunity to spill out.

“Ah shit, sorry mate,” Jack says as he approaches. “Forgot you startle easily.”

Ranboo shakes his head, smiling. “Nah, don’t worry about it; you just surprised me. What’s up?”

Jack huffs, planting his hands on his hips. “Someone’s gone rummaging through my stuff and stole three whole stacks of blaze rods. I feel like I’ve interrogated half the server; nobody’s fessing up.”

Ranboo begins gnawing on the inside of his cheek, and his ears droop. “Oh man, that– That sucks, man.”

Jack’s brow suddenly furrows. Ranboo opens his mouth to inquire as to what has prompted the sudden change, but then the man leans in uncomfortably close, looking just off to the side of his eyes.

“It wasn’t you who stole my shit, was it?”

“Wha– no!” Ranboo takes a step back, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, of course not.”

Without breaking his gaze, Jack nods. “Okay.” He returns to an upright position, a comfortable distance away. “In that case, I want you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Well, interrogating people alone hasn’t exactly been working out for me; I feel I’ll need some backup.”

Oh, joy.

“Sure, I guess. Not sure I’m your best option though…”

“Don’t say that.” Jack grins. “You’re plenty good.”

Ranboo doesn’t respond, but he feels his cheeks warm instantaneously with the comment.

“Now, I’ve already talked to Shelby and Scott,” Jack mutters, seemingly to himself. “Phil’s been supervising Sneeg all day, and I’d like to think Tubbo and Wil know better than to touch stuff that isn’t theirs…” He throws his head back, groaning. “Shit.”

“Uh—“ Ranboo takes a step forward. “Isn’t it possible someone might’ve been lying? It’d probably be more effective if we, y’know, actually went through their stuff to make sure.”

Jack’s eyes light up. “You mad fucking genius; you’re right!” He rushes forward and grabs Ranboo’s forearm. “C’mon, let’s get going while nobody’s home.”

Albeit reluctantly, Ranboo allows himself to be dragged across the SMP by Jack, stumbling several times as he frantically attempts to get his own two feet beneath him.

Eventually, they end up at Tommy’s house. Jack finally releases his vice-like grip on Ranboo’s arm and proceeds to make a beeline for the building without saying a word. Ranboo hurriedly follows, silently praying Jack is right about nobody being home. Thankfully, when they enter, all is quiet.

“Alright,” Jack says, “here’s the plan. I’ll go have a peek in Tom’s chests while you keep a lookout and let me know if anyone’s coming.”

Ah, so he’s the surveillance guy. Typical. He steps into the main room, leaning up against a nearby wall just as his communicator buzzes and he spots a flash of blond hair in his peripherals.

TommyInnit whispers to you: sup bitch TommyInnit whispers to you: look up

Ranboo rolls his eyes at the messages, though he supposes he should’ve expected this. He looks up and immediately finds a face peering down at him from the rafters.

“Hi, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he urgently presses a finger to his lips, gesturing to the communicator strapped to his hip before reaching for it again.

TommyInnit whispers to you: dont tell jack im here TommyInnit whispers to you: lure him in

Ranboo decides not to question how the hell Tommy got up there. Honestly, he doesn’t really want to know.

“Right, so this child has literally nothing of value, good to know–”

Jack emerges from somewhere else in the house, coming to a stop in the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, Ranboo sees Tommy slink back into the shadows, unseen by those not specifically looking for him. “Think I can safely say Tommy didn’t take any of my shit. Unless he has some sort of secret stash…” Ranboo thinks he remembers Tommy mentioning something like that recently, but the uncharacteristic desire for chaos urges him to keep quiet. Instead, he says something else.

“Hey, Jack… can you c’mere a sec?”

Jack’s brow furrows. Yes, even Ranboo himself knows how blatantly suspicious this is, but he doesn’t exactly have a plethora of options for luring the guy over, especially considering he has no idea what Tommy plans on doing to him.

Several seconds pass, and Jack doesn’t move, his arms now crossed loosely over his chest. He raises an eyebrow, and Ranboo, slowly running out of cares to give, decides to take more of a direct approach; just to move things along. He teleports behind Jack, grabbing his shoulders, and as Jack begins shouting profanities and attempts to wriggle out of his hold, he, with great effort, pushes him into the room.

“Oi, you cock! What’re you–”

Water abruptly trickles down from the rafters, suspiciously close to where Tommy has been hiding. A few droplets land on Jack’s head, and he shrieks. Ranboo leaps back to avoid the assault, watching the man’s scalp begin to literally steam with the amount of water it’s being exposed to. Some of the water runs down his face, and Ranboo has to bite his tongue to hold back a laugh as Jack starts squirming on the spot, feebly attempting to mask his pain.

“That’s what you get for trespassing, bitch!”

Jack’s nose screws up. “What do you mean?!” he squawks, wincing as he wrings the water out of his damp hair. “Ranboo’s here too, you dick; why are you targeting me?!”

“Ranboo’s got special clearance,” Tommy responds, jumping down from the rafters and planting his hands on his hips. “Unfortunately for you, Jack Manifold,” he says, retrieving his communicator and tapping at it idly, “I don’t seem to have you on the list.”

Jack’s jaw locks, and his eyes grow wide with raw, unbridled rage. “Since when was there a list–”

Ranboo half expects the man to erupt, much like a volcano, but Tommy steps forward before things can escalate any further, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulders. He’s biting his bottom lip, hard enough to the point that Ranboo can see the tiniest amount of blood trickling from a small wound. The quiet wheezes he can hear makes him suspect Tommy is making an attempt not to descend into hysterics, which is honestly very valiant of him considering one wrong move could cause Jack’s emotions to spill over.

“Don’t take it personally, big man.” Tommy pats Jack’s shoulder with his free hand, which Ranboo doesn’t really get considering Tommy’s other arm is already around his shoulders. “It was just a harmless prank. Needed some entertainment, y’know?” He sticks out his bottom lip. “You forgive me, right?”

Jack sighs, his simmering rage seeming to trickle out of him all at once. Ranboo, demoted to an idle observer, watches with his head cocked to the side. He’s a little worried Jack won’t forgive Tommy, considering how furious he looked just a moment ago, but he finds himself to be proven wrong when Jack’s expression softens. He places a hand on Tommy’s head and proceeds to ruffle his hair, grinning.

“Oh, I suppose. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t.”

Tommy barks out a laugh, eyes alight with joy. “Damn right you wouldn’t!” Then, he locks Jack into a loose headlock, and that is the catalyst for the playful fight which follows. Ranboo doesn’t get himself involved; there isn’t a need to. Instead, he continues to watch from afar, smiling.

He stays there until the ‘battle’ ends, several hours later.

Ranboo never thought he’d see the day he would be willingly spending time with TommyInnit, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything. No words are being exchanged; they’re simply sitting on the edge of the island which the Pube sits upon. Ranboo actually finds it oddly relaxing.

“Hey, Ranboo…”

Oh no.

Tommy looks over at Ranboo, eyes twinkling. “It’s been a while since we did something together.”

Ranboo cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed. “Aren’t we doing something right now…?”

Tommy hugs his knees to his chest, resting his head on his arms. “Yeah, I guess– but I meant something a little more exciting.”

Oh no.

“Tommy, no–”

“Tommy, yes.” Tommy grins. “C’mon, you’ve been my partner in crime for too long to back out now!”

Ranboo frowns. “I feel like I’m being manipulated.”

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Tommy says, stretching his legs out and lifting his arms above his head. Once he’s finished stretching, he snaps his fingers a few times, brow furrowed in thought. “Now who would be a viable target…”

Ranboo speaks up without thinking. “I don’t think Sneeg’s gonna be too busy today.”

Tommy beams, his eyes practically shining. Ranboo physically recoils, his ears pressing against the sides of his head. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“Perfect.”

Ranboo’s lips twitch. “You’ve already got a plan, haven’t you.”

Tommy leaps to his feet, puffing out his chest. “Indeed! A very simple one, in fact.”

“Oh?”

Tommy snickers, glancing around for a moment before whispering, “We’re gonna fill Sneeg’s secret tunnel system with lava.”

Ranboo blinks. “Sneeg has a secret tunnel system?”

“Yes, because he’s a little shit who has this weird obsession with living in people’s walls.”

Ah, that makes perfect sense.

It really doesn’t, but Ranboo doesn’t feel like questioning it any further, so he lets Tommy do his thing. The boy runs off, disappearing into the Pube for several seconds before returning with a bucket of lava in his possession, an evil grin growing on his face.

“Wha— Did you just have that lying around?!”

“…Yeah?” Tommy responds, as if that kind of thing is normal.

“...Understandable, have a nice day.”

Tommy barks out a laugh, yelping when the lava starts sloshing around in the bucket. He takes a moment to steady it, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when the liquid settles. Ranboo giggles to himself, but abruptly cuts himself off when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This is followed by a low, ominous voice ringing out, right in his ear.

“The fuck was that, chicken boy?”

Tommy screams. Out of the corner of his eye, Ranboo spots a tiny man sitting on his shoulder – how the hell did he not notice Sneeg was here sooner. Sneeg hops down and approaches Tommy, craning his neck upward to look him in the eyes.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

“I’m always watching,” is Sneeg’s response. Ranboo hauls himself to his feet as Tommy and Sneeg initiate some sort of scuffed staring contest for literally no reason, and Tommy makes absolutely no effort to hide the blatant evidence of his and Ranboo’s plan to basically commit arson on Sneeg’s tunnel system.

“That’s great and all, bud, but Ranboo and I are kinda busy. So, if you could kindly fuck off–”

Without warning, Sneeg rushes forward, attaching himself to Tommy’s ankle. Caught off guard, Tommy lifts his foot and begins hopping around, shaking it furiously in a feeble attempt to throw the tiny man off. Eventually, he stumbles, and Ranboo’s heart drops into his stomach when he topples over, falling off the island. For a very brief moment, he forgets Tommy is capable of negating the consequences that typically accompany a fall from an extreme height.

Ranboo teleports down to where Tommy fell, and finds himself a witness to Tommy, an Avian, somehow being overpowered by an Inchling. An Inchling.

“Ranboo–” Tommy yelps as Sneeg tugs on his hair, cackling, having climbed up onto his shoulders. “Ranboo, help–”

“Thought you’d be able to get away with pranking me, huh?!” Sneeg grins maniacally. “I know you, Tommy. I knew you’d target me eventually.” He tugs on Tommy’s hair again, hard.

“Ow– Hey, Sneeg, listen–” Another tug. “OW– C’mon, man, easy on the hair! I’m sorry, alright?!”

Sneeg cackles again, clearly enjoying this moment of power. “Say it like you mean it, Tommy–”

Ranboo rolls his eyes, supposing he has to intervene at some point. Careful to remain out of Sneeg’s sight, he teleports towards Tommy, gesturing for the boy to remain quiet as he reaches for the Inchling perched on his shoulder. He contemplates grabbing him, but decides he’d rather not have his fingers bitten. Instead, he simply holds his forefinger behind his thumb, flicking Sneeg away the moment the opportunity presents itself. Tommy releases a long breath, and his muscles visibly relax ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Ranboo,” Tommy breathes, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck. “Jesus, I thought he was gonna kill me–”

“Great idea – I might just do that!”

Tommy screams again, pointing. Brow furrowed, Ranboo follows his finger, spotting Sneeg rushing towards them.

“I think we should run,” Ranboo murmurs.

Tommy nods. “Yeah– Yeah, we should. If I’m going to die, I don’t want it to be at the hands of Sneegsnag.”

The two of them start running, and Sneeg immediately proceeds to chase them down. Ranboo realises they don’t have an end location in mind, but chooses not to waste his breath asking. They’ll figure it out on their feet. They run past several landmarks Ranboo doesn’t have the opportunity to admire, and it feels like Sneeg chases them across the entire SMP. Eventually, Ranboo looks over and notices Tommy is looking rather fatigued, sweat dripping from his brow and his face pale.

“Hey,” Ranboo says, slowing when he confirms the coast is clear – for now, at least. “You good?”

Tommy comes to a stop beside Ranboo, placing his hands on his knees as he wheezes, coughing to the point he gags. “Yep. Yeah, I’m– I am just peachy.”

Ranboo raises an eyebrow, and one of his ears twitches when a nearby bush rustles. With Sneeg right on their tail once again, Ranboo comes to an impulsive decision. He turns so his back is facing Tommy, crouching slightly.

“Hop on.”

Tommy straightens, blinking. “What?”

“C’mon, just trust me. Hop on, and we’ll go hide in Wilbur’s potion store.” His voice drops to a murmur at that last part, and he hopes Sneeg doesn’t somehow pick up on it.

Tommy doesn’t argue any further. He pulls himself up onto Ranboo’s back, and Ranboo hooks his arms under the boy’s legs to prevent him from falling.

“Hold on tight, okay?” Ranboo smiles, shifting his grip slightly. “I’m not coming back for you if you fall off.”

“For the record I’ll never forgive you if you drop me.”

“I’m not gonna drop you, Tom,” Ranboo says, laughing. “Not on purpose, anyway…”

As if on cue, Sneeg leaps out from the bush nearby, and Ranboo runs. Ironically, Tommy is light as a feather, making it remarkably easy to navigate the SMP in such a way that Sneeg struggles to keep up the pursuit. Tommy cheers, laughing as he wraps his arms loosely around Ranboo’s neck. Though he can’t see him from his angle, Ranboo can tell Tommy is smiling from ear to ear.

“Vamos, loyal steed!” Tommy shouts. “We’re almost there!”

At this point, Ranboo gets the feeling Sneeg has given up, but he makes a beeline for Potions and Just Potions regardless.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathes when they finally reach their destination, detaching himself from Ranboo and leaning against a nearby wall. “Holy fucking shit.”

The two of them are quiet for a moment, catching their breath while birds sing in the distance. Eventually, Tommy giggles. Then Ranboo giggles. Seconds later, the two of them descend into hysterics. It gets to the point where Tommy is wiping tears from his eyes and Ranboo is clutching his stomach, grinning to the point that his cheeks ache.

“Oh my god,” Tommy wheezes. “Shit, that was– That was fucking great.”

Ranboo nods, struggling somewhat to take in adequate oxygen. “Sneeg looked so mad.”

Tommy slides down the wall, stretching out his legs to the point that he’s almost laying on the floor. “He did.” He then takes several deep breaths – most likely to compose himself, his face flushed. “Probably gonna have to watch my ass for the next few days.”

Ranboo takes a seat next to Tommy, nodding. “Yeah, probably.”

“Might need a bodyguard or some shit.”

“I’m not being your bodyguard, Tommy.”

“Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

“...Oh well, at least I still have my lava bucket. Self defence, innit?”

Okay, note to self: Obtain a stockpile of water buckets, ASAP.

Tommy has been oddly quiet lately. He still involves himself with the day-to-day happenings of the SMP, but it feels… wrong, somehow. Ranboo knows he isn’t the first to notice, as he sees Tubbo’s knowing expression out of the corner of his eye as the boy wanders past, head hung low and eyes dull.

“Is he… okay?” Ranboo turns to Tubbo, who shrugs, frowning as he lowers himself to the ground where he’s been hovering.

“Not sure. This hasn’t happened for a while.” Tubbo crosses his arms loosely over his chest and begins chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Might just be a bad day, but I feel weird making assumptions.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Of course. He didn’t really have a whole lot to say, though. I guess he just wants some space.”

Ranboo doesn’t press any further. Tubbo has known Tommy much longer than he has; he trusts his judgement. However…

“I’m gonna check on him. Y’know, just in case.”

Tubbo releases a long, slow breath, nodding. “Yeah, that’s— That’s a good idea, big man. Honestly, he might even open up to you more, considering you two have been practically joined at the hip these past couple of months.”

…Yeah, Ranboo supposes he only has himself to blame for that. He isn’t complaining, though; Tommy’s company makes a lot of things rather entertaining.

He turns to walk away, watching as Tommy rounds a corner in the distance and removes himself from his view.

“Um—” He turns back to Tubbo, whose lips are slightly parted. They press into a tight line, and he inhales sharply through his nose. “I’ve already told him, but… let Tom know we’re worried about him, yeah? I’m worried about him.”

Oh, Tubbo is far too wholesome for this world.

“Yeah.” Ranboo nods, smiling. “Yeah, I will.”

Tubbo grins, and Ranboo sets off in the vague direction Tommy was walking. To make the trip just a bit quicker, he teleports forward every few steps, and eventually, he reaches the crater surrounding the Pube. Perched on the edge, swinging their legs idly into the abyss below, is–

“Tommy!”

Tommy visibly flinches, glancing over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. Ranboo approaches slowly, kneeling down to the boy’s level before carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Ranboo murmurs, “you alright?”

Tommy shakes his head, hugging his knees to his chest and looking back out towards the Pube.

“Tubbo’s worried about you.”

“He’s always worried. He’s a clingy bitch.”

“Don’t say that,” Ranboo scolds. “He’s your friend; he cares about you. He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“You’re my friend too.”

“Yeah, but— That isn’t the point. Not the point—“

Tommy snorts. Ranboo smiles.

“Anyway,” Ranboo continues, pulling away and standing. “What’s got you feeling so down today, Tom?”

Tommy shrugs. “Dunno. Just an off day, I guess.”

Ranboo nods, humming sympathetically. He places his hands on his hips. “I get you; those kinds of days suck. Anything any of us can do to help you feel a little better?”

Tommy shrugs again, and Ranboo begins gnawing on his lip. He doesn’t want to leave Tommy alone while he’s feeling like this, but he has no idea what he could do to possibly brighten the boy’s mood—

Wait.

Disregard that previous statement he has the perfect idea.

“Hey.” Ranboo kneels down again, nudging Tommy. “Come with me for a sec? I want your help with something.”

Tommy sighs, but it’s loud and very much exaggerated. He hauls himself to his feet, running a hand through his frizzy hair. “If I must,” he says, jutting out his bottom lip. Ranboo laughs, motioning for Tommy to follow him as he turns and begins walking away. Tommy jogs to his side, glancing up at him with curious eyes, which Ranboo is just now noticing are rather red.

“Where’re we going?”

“Tubbo’s house.”

Tommy almost chokes.

“If you don’t want to talk to him right now, I’m not gonna make you.” Tommy breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “I just thought doing this would make you feel a bit better.”

“Doing what? You need to be a little less cryptic, boob boy.”

Ranboo’s ears twitch, and he smirks.

“We’re gonna mess with Tubbo.”

The way Tommy’s face lights up upon hearing those words brings about a warmth in Ranboo’s chest; a sensation he welcomes with open arms. The boy then proceeds to attach himself to Ranboo’s arm, grinning up at him.

“That I can get behind.”

Ranboo smiles, glad that Tommy already seems to be doing better than he was when he found him. He gently pries Tommy off of him and ruffles his hair fondly, placing a hand on his hip and pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “C’mon then. If we’re lucky, he’ll still be home.”

There are no objections, so the two of them return to Tubbo’s home on stilts, pointedly ignoring the gaping hole in the adjacent mountain, which appears to have grown impossibly larger. Standing on the porch, no Tubbo in sight, Ranboo turns to Tommy. The boy simply blinks, confused, but Ranboo continues to stare expectantly. Tommy isn’t stupid; he’ll catch on.

“Wait— Don’t tell me I have to come up with the plan?”

There it is.

“You’re the boss,” Ranboo says, shrugging. “Guess I figured you’d have some better ideas than me.”

Tommy’s eyes are comically large. Ranboo almost laughs, but for the sake of the kid’s dignity, he refrains, waiting patiently as Tommy’s brain kicks into gear.

“…Yeah I’ve got nothing.”

“Seriously?”

“Being my best friend, Tubbo is my go-to for epic pranks. Unfortunately, this means he’ll probably be prepared for anything I throw at him – and I mean that both physically and metaphorically.”

Ranboo’s brow furrows in thought. “Right, okay–”

There’s the sound of a door opening nearby, and Ranboo is pulled into the shadows as Tubbo steps out of the house. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be having that conversation right outside the guy’s front door.

Ranboo and Tommy watch as Tubbo runs his hands through his tangled hair, not stopping until it has been adequately brushed. His wings start flapping rapidly, and with a loud, piercing buzz, he takes off, flying away from the house. Once the sound has faded into the distance, the duo emerges from their hiding place.

Wonder where he’s going.

Dismissing the thought, Ranboo looks over at Tommy, smiling. “I think that’s our cue.”

Tommy’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “Huh?”

Ranboo plants his hands on his hips, smirking. “I think I might have an idea, but we’ll need to head inside.” Noticing Tommy’s confused expression shift into one that is almost entirely blank, he frowns. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, y’know. You– You can let me know if you wanna back out–”

“No.”

Tommy’s response is abrupt. Afterwards, he has more to say. Ranboo doesn’t interrupt.

“N-No, I– I want to do this. I want to do it with you.”

“You get sick of the isolation after a while, trust me.”

Something finally clicks. Since Ranboo arrived on the SMP, he hasn’t seen Tommy pull a single prank by himself, nor has he been informed of this occurrence by others residing on the SMP. He’s always dragged him along.

Ranboo is vaguely aware of the concept of instincts, and the fact that they exist in both Mobs and Origins alike. He figures these things may be related. One can only handle isolation for so long, especially when they encounter someone with whom they find themselves to grow to trust deeply.

This explains so much.

“Okay,” Ranboo says. “Yeah, alright– We’ll do it together, yeah?” Tommy nods. “Cool. We shouldn’t take too long; I genuinely have no idea when Tubbo will be back.”

The two of them duck inside the house, Tommy making sure to close the door behind them. He sticks close to the door while Ranboo ventures further into the house, searching for something they could use to their advantage in order to catch Tubbo off guard. There isn’t a whole lot of note; just a few chests, a pile of barrels in a corner, and the starting foundation of some basic furniture. Not a whole lot they can work with.

Ranboo looks back over towards the door, where Tommy has begun browsing through his inventory. Squinting, Ranboo spots something interesting in the boy’s possession as he scrolls.

“Hey, Tom?”

Tommy hums.

“Mind if I steal that bucket of milk from your inventory?”

Tommy looks up from the interface, cocking his head to the side. “Sure…?” He retrieves the bucket from his inventory and hands it to Ranboo without a word, who gestures for Tommy to move away from the door before approaching it himself.

“What’re you–”

“Just trust me,” Ranboo says, glancing over his shoulder at Tommy and winking. “Tubbo won’t see this coming.”

With a bit of work – and some precise placement, Ranboo eventually manages to successfully craft a simple door trap, the bucket of milk he has ‘borrowed’ from Tommy poised to fall onto the next person to walk through the door to Tubbo’s house. This kind of trap has many flaws, of course, but it’s the first thing Ranboo came up with, and he’s confident Tubbo won’t expect it, just as he told Tommy.

Of course, there’s always the possibility that Tubbo won’t be the one who comes through the door…

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“Shoot Tubbo a message, will you? Give him a reason to come home fast; I don’t wanna risk someone else triggering this.”

Tommy has already pulled out his communicator, and throws a thumbs up in Ranboo’s general direction as he types. “Already on it, big man.”

“Cool, thanks.”

After the message is sent, and Tubbo confirms he’s on his way, Tommy and Ranboo are left waiting for several minutes, which Tommy insists feel like hours. The two of them lounge around on impromptu chairs made from oak stairs, scrolling idly through message history and the depths of their inventories, until eventually, they hear the approach of a familiar buzzing. Acting quickly, Ranboo grabs Tommy, pulling him aside to hide behind the pile of blocks they’d placed down in advance, giving them a perfect view of the show while remaining concealed from view.

There’s a muffled, “Tom?” from outside, and Tommy begins snickering. Ranboo nudges him, shushing him quietly despite also being close to laughing himself. Tommy bites the inside of his cheek, wincing when he seems to bite down just a little too hard.

“Tom?” Tubbo calls again, and the door swings open. “Tom, are you–”

Right on cue, the bucket falls, landing exactly where it was intended to: Onto Tubbo’s head.

“Ah!” Tubbo stumbles backward, fumbling with the bucket as he moves to pry it off. He is eventually successful, and, after throwing the bucket aside, brushes his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. Beside Ranboo, Tommy rolls backwards, a laughing fit much like the one back in Potions and Just Potions quickly overtaking him. With Tommy incapacitated, Ranboo takes it upon himself to retrieve an axe and chop the blocks away which make up their hiding place. Meanwhile, Tubbo watches with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of both bewilderment and rage.

“Motherfuckers.”

Tommy’s laugh becomes impossibly louder; infectious to the point that Ranboo has to allow himself to have a little chuckle just to prevent a descent into hysterics.

“Fuck you guys, seriously,” Tubbo says, though there is no malice behind his words. “I’m gonna have to go shower now, you dicks. That’ll be the fourth time this week–”

Tubbo storms off into another room, muttering to himself the entire way, and Tommy cackles, his laughter slowly dying down after that. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “I forgot how great this feeling is.” He looks up at Ranboo, who has gotten to his feet and is currently brushing the stray dust off his clothing. The two of them lock eyes, and oddly enough, Ranboo doesn’t feel the irritation he and his fellow Endermen experience when faced with direct eye contact with those not of their kind.

Tommy grins. “Thanks, Ranboo.”

“For what?”

Tommy sits up, shrugging. “I dunno– lightening the mood, I guess. I’d probably still be wallowing in my own sadness if you hadn’t come along. Even if it was at Tubbo’s request.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I volunteered.”

Tommy laughs. “I know, I know, I’m just fucking with you.” He hauls himself to his feet, wrapping his arms around Ranboo from his side. “But seriously, thank you.”

Ranboo gets the feeling he’s thankful for more than just today.

He keeps quiet about that, though. He wouldn’t want to embarrass his friend.

#origins smp #osmp #origins smp oneshot #osmp oneshot #tommyinnit #ranboo #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #jack manifold #sneegsnag #tubbo #o!alliumduo #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Phantom Thief of Hearts (And a Grappling Hook)

Prompt: 41) Write the fic from a different character's POV. Summary: The notorious thief Joker has a run-in with the detective chasing him down. Shenanigans ensue. Relationships: Goro Akechi/Persona 5 Protagonist Warnings: None Characters: Goro Akechi, Persona 5 Protagonist Notes: Written for @twbmccevent! This is a remix of @ranbinary's fic, of stealing hearts (and atms). [AO3 link]

Joker flies over rooftops one by one, the wind making his hair fly in all sorts of crazy directions. With pinpoint precision, he fires his grappling hook towards the edge of each new building, allowing himself to swing across the gap for a brief moment before getting the device to pull him upwards.

Glancing down at the road below as he moves, Joker spots a familiar face shoving through the crowd of people gathered there. He smiles, pausing on the roof of the building at the very end of the road, watching as the young detective rapidly closes in on his position. Sure, he could easily just fly to the next set of buildings and lose his pursuer completely, but where’s the fun in that? He instead stashes his grappling hook away and jumps down, ducking around the corner. Footsteps fast approaching, Joker leans against the wall, staring at his gloves as he attempts to look as disinterested as possible.

“Looking for me, detective?” he says, lips curling up into a smirk as Akechi rounds the corner. Glancing up, he can see the detective have to fight to keep a calm, collected expression, almost rolling his eyes before stopping himself.

“You know I am. I’ve been assigned to your case for the past month.”

A whole month? Well damn, Joker must be better at evading capture than he thought. Either that or Akechi is just a shit detective. To be honest, it could very well be a combination of the two. “And yet it took me slowing down for you to catch me.” He’s well aware that his shit-eating grin is visible even beneath the mask, which makes this infinitely funnier. “Now tell me, detective, are you here to turn me in?”

“I should be.” Joker pulls his grappling hook back out, fiddling with it while Akechi continues to speak. Honestly, it’s rather impressive he’s managed to maintain his composure for this long. Joker can’t help but respect the effort. “That depends, though. What did you do this time?”

A coin sits snug in the palm Joker’s free hand. Where it came from, he’ll never tell. When he flicks it up to his fingertips to hold between two fingers, Akechi’s slightly bewildered expression is almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.

“Oh, not much. Not much at all.”

Akechi pauses, and Joker can practically see the cogs in his brain turning at mach speed. This happens a lot. It’s become a game at this point; guessing Joker’s crime of the day. Or week. Depends on what mood he’s in. Today, though, it wasn’t anything super glamorous, just breaking into a few more ATMs. He did consider orchestrating a bank robbery, but ultimately decided that was too much effort. A good choice, he thinks.

Akechi presses a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He does it right between the eyes, too, which can’t possibly be very comfortable. “I really should turn you in right here and now.”

Joker pushes himself off the wall, meeting Akechi’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a fire escape protruding from the wall above them, leading up to a balcony. “Should you, now? C’mon.”

“It’s literally my job, Joker.”

Yeah, Joker’s going to take that as his cue to get a move on. He fires the grappling hook at the fire escape, watching as it makes perfect contact with the railing and loops itself around the bars. It’s the perfect escape route. He raises an eyebrow in Akechi’s direction: your move.

“I do have you right here, for once.”

Without breaking eye contact with his adversary, Joker moves a dial on his device with one hand. Very, very slowly, he starts rising up towards the fire escape.

“I could still grab you, idiot. Has anyone told you you’re an idiot recently? They should do it more.”

Joker can’t help but smile at that. “You could say that, yeah, I’ve been told that a bit.” He slides the dial just a small bit further, raising the grappling hook’s speed a tiny amount. He’s still firmly within Akechi’s reach, but the young detective makes no move to apprehend him.

“Is that going to hurt eventually?” Akechi casually lifts a hand, pointing at Joker’s grappling hook. His head tilts up slightly, and Joker realises he’s starting to struggle with maintaining consistent eye contact. “You holding up your whole weight with one arm and all.”

Oh damn, he has a point. “Yeah, probably,” Joker says. “It’s definitely distracting you this way, though.” He can tell Akechi is really tempted to call him an idiot again. He can’t blame him.

“You’re like a foot off the ground. I could grab your hand, let alone your ankle.”

Joker smirks. “But you’re not.”

“Mostly because I wanted to talk to you first,” Akechi says, sounding exasperated, “but you won’t even stay still long enough to have a proper conversation.”

Ah, Joker’s missed this. He’d forgotten how entertaining it is to wind Akechi up like this. “I will stay long enough to ask how you’re going to tell your superiors you lost me, though.” He fiddles with the dial again, increasing the speed of the grappling hook one last time, and watches as Akechi raises an eyebrow.

“As far as they’re aware, this never happened. You turned the corner on a busy street and you were gone.”

“Good.” Joker breaks eye contact with Akechi, pulling the trigger on the grappling hook. He shoots up to the balcony in an instant, backflipping before landing on his feet. He leans over the railing, crossing his arms as he peers down at the poor detective stuck on the ground below. Well, not exactly stuck — the fire escape is right there — but it’s not like he’s making a move either way.

“Hey, I’ll see you around later, detective. Another time, maybe.”

Without waiting for a response, Joker leans back from the edge, concealing himself amongst the shadows. He watches Akechi leave, chuckling quietly to himself.

His job here is done.

The TV is on when Akira returns to his apartment, playing some random show he doesn’t recognise. He makes himself a fresh cup of coffee before flopping down on the couch in front of the screen, removing his glasses and running a hand through his hair. Several minutes later, he hears the latch of the door click. Looking up, he smiles when he spots his boyfriend entering.

“Hey. How was your day?”

“I think you know perfectly well how my day was.” Akira fights back the strong urge to laugh. Akechi strides over to where Akira is sitting, planting a kiss on his cheek. Akira loudly complains about Akechi blocking the view, but doesn’t actually care all that much. It was a dumb show anyway. The smile doesn’t leave his face the entire time.

“Business as usual, then?”

“You could say that.” Akechi slides into the other room for a brief moment, and when he returns, he’s no longer holding his briefcase. Akira assumes he put it on the table with all his paperwork, because the guy clearly doesn’t know how to keep a workspace organised. When Akechi returns, he takes a seat next to Akira, leaning back against the pillows. “Nearly caught a thief. Some random guy, very annoying, quite an idiot.”

Akira chuckles. Akechi really does have some strange obsession with calling people idiots. Or maybe he just reserves that especially for the elusive thief. How kind of him. “Oh? Annoying and an idiot? Quite a combination coming from you.”

“Did I forget handsome? Would you be happier then?”

“Definitely.” Akira can feel another laugh tickling the back of his throat, so he reaches for his coffee cup and takes a long, slow sip, which thankfully keeps it at bay.

“You’re going to have to show me that grappling hook later, by the way. I want to know how it works. I assume Sakura helped you with it?”

“She did, yeah.” Akira sets his cup back down on the table, thinking back to when he had approached Futaba with the idea for the device. She was ecstatic, and she’d barely left her room while she worked on it. It came out so much better than Akira had initially thought it would. “It was mostly her this time, but it was my idea. Thought it would be funny.”

“More like exasperating,” Akechi mutters, and Akira finds he can’t hold his laughter in any longer. It drowns out the sound of the TV almost completely.

Akira couldn't ask for a better life - or a better boyfriend.

#persona 5 #goro akechi #persona 5 protagonist #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #shuake #alternate universe #twb mcc event #twb mcc event green guardians #twb mcc event sands of time #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

I’ll Be the One to Keep You Warm and Safe

Prompt: “I will protect you if you stay, and I will love you if you don’t give up on me.” Summary: Tommy gets caught hiding in Techno’s house. What follows is some unexpected brotherly bonding. Pairing(s): Tommy & Techno Warning(s): None Character(s): Tommy, Techno Notes: Written for leafmoment as part of Fic Fight! Title comes from Brother by Kodaline. [AO3 link]

Tommy’s never been great at hiding. Okay, that’s a lie; he’s terrible at it. In his defence, he’s only ever hidden for fun, mostly when he was younger, kicking ass at hide-and-seek. Right now, however, there’s no game. This is serious, and if Tommy is found, he may face serious consequences.

Where is Tommy hiding, you may ask? Well, he just so happens to be hiding underneath the home of the Blade. As for why, well… let’s just say Tommy doesn’t want to return to exile, and he figures underneath someone’s house is one of the last places Dream will think to look. He hopes so, anyway.

Things are going well until Tommy drops his guard one day while Techno is away. Despite an attempt to hide by digging himself into a literal hole, he is quickly discovered, but just when he thinks all hell is about to break loose, Techno grabs him by the back of his tattered shirt, lifts him out of his hidey-hole and drags him inside, all while he squirms, kicks, and spews a string of very colourful profanities.

The moment Techno releases his grip on Tommy’s shirt, Tommy scrambles away, feigning indignation as his heart pounds.

“Tommy,” Techno starts, lifting a hand – is it a hand in Techno’s case? Tommy has no fucking clue – to rub just above his snout, closing his eyes, “what are you doin’ in my house?”

A lump lodges itself into Tommy’s throat, but the mask doesn’t crack. “I’m not in your house, dickhead.” He crosses his arms, biting his lip to hold back a pout. “I’m beneath it.”

Techno raises an eyebrow, unamused. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tommy’s hands begin to shake when they fall back to his sides, and he balls them into fists. He swallows, flinching when he realises just how much the sound sticks out in the uncomfortable silence. “I–” The words stick in his throat, refusing to escape, and he quickly runs a hand through his hair in a feeble attempt to appear at least somewhat composed.

Techno’s expression softens, and for a brief moment, the duo’s eyes meet, just before Tommy casts his gaze down towards his shoes.

“Tommy,” Techno murmurs, “you’re shaking.”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. Shit.

“What’s it to you, you fucking– prick,” Tommy snaps, because he’s unsure of how else to respond. He looks up just in time to see Techno step towards him, brow furrowed with what Tommy would almost think is concern if he didn’t know who he was talking to. He takes a step back, tears building in the corners of his eyes, and Techno frowns.

The mask shatters.

“Sorry,” Tommy chokes out, wincing when several rogue tears roll down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Techno, I–” He laughs half-heartedly, lifting an arm to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t know what I was thinking, honestly. Don’t worry; I’ll pack up and fuck off elsewhere as soon as possible. Dunno where, but–”

Techno coughs, pulling Tommy from his spiral. “Theseus, I– I didn’t say you have to leave.”

Theseus. Tommy hasn’t heard that name in a while. He blinks, and his brow furrows. “Wait, but… I thought–” Tommy bites his tongue, cutting himself off, and for a brief moment, he tastes iron. “You don’t want me here, do you?”

Techno’s eyes widen, and Tommy curls in on himself, hands gripping the fabric of his sleeves. “Heh? Theseus– Tommy, I didn’t say that. If you really don’t have anywhere else to go, you can stay here.”

“But you–”

“I would’ve appreciated a warnin’ before you decided to come make yourself at home, but I’m not just goin’ to kick you out and throw you to the wolves.”

“Yeah, but–” Tommy huffs. “You were mad,” he mutters.

Techno snorts. “I was messin’ with you.” After a brief pause, he follows up with, “...mostly.” Tommy doesn’t respond, and he watches Techno step forward and place a hand – seriously, what the fuck does Techno have? – on his shoulder.

“Listen to me.”

Tommy chooses to comply.

“I’m not goin’ to force you into anything,” Techno begins. “If you’re really willin’ to leave, I won’t stop you, but…” Techno looks Tommy in the eye. “I will protect you if you stay, and I will love you if you don’t give up on me.”

The room falls silent. After a moment, Tommy realises his mouth has gone dry, and he licks his chapped lips, unsure whether he should be the one to speak up first despite having no idea what to say. He hears a muffled explosion somewhere outside, and before his brain can entirely process what he’s doing, he launches himself forward.

Straight into Techno’s arms.

“Tommy–”

“Please,” Tommy whispers, burying his head into Techno’s chest. He reaches blindly for something tangible to hold, and ends up with handfuls of Techno’s clothes. “Please don’t let him find me.”

And Techno remembers. He remembers what Tommy’s been through, and out of nowhere, after being uncharacteristically silent for a stupidly long amount of time, the Voices pipe up.

PROTECC

Poor Tommy

He’s hiding from Dream you gotta protect him Techno

Techno moves to embrace Tommy, but pauses. He doesn’t like to brag about his strength – that’s a complete and total lie; he enjoys flexing how powerful he is in comparison to his fellow server members – but he worries he’ll accidentally hurt the kid. So, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and allows himself to shift. Moments later, Tommy feels arms snake around his back, and a very much human hand tangles itself in his hair.

Tommy wraps his arms around Techno’s torso, and he breathes.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #canon divergence #tommyinnit #technoblade #c!bedrock bros #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Alone and Forsaken (But Not Really)

Prompt: “You would succumb to the dark if you stare at the shadows for too long, remember that a light source co-exists with them, you’ll find your light eventually.” Summary: In a world where you are eternally linked with another, Scar cannot find his soulmate. Pairing(s): Grian & Scar Warning(s): Injury Character(s): Grian, Scar, Scott Notes: Written for ClystGlitch as part of Fic Fight! [AO3 link]

In a world where everyone is soulbound to another, Scar cannot find his soulmate. Every day, he watches Joel and Etho mess around with fishing rods, and Pearl and Scott battle mobs side-by-side. Everyone just… spends time with their soulmates, no strings attached.

Scar doesn’t get that luxury. So, when Pearl is away on a mining expedition, he goes to Scott.

“You’re still worried about your soulmate?”

Scott doesn’t sound annoyed, nor does it seem as if he’s mocking Scar. Instead, he almost sounds… sad, and Scar simply nods in response, toying with the string on his bow.

“You’ll find them eventually,” Scott says, smiling. “Everyone does.”

In the distance, the fanfare of a goat horn blares, and both Scott and Scar pull out their own to join the chorus which responds. It’s muscle memory at this point; one of the few languages the entire server seems to speak. The fanfare is short-lived, but it’s reassurance that everyone is still alive. Still Green. The duo lower their horns, and Scott glances over at Scar, who has opted to begin staring at his feet as they dangle from the half-built structure he’s sitting on.

“Y’know,” Scott starts, walking over and hoisting himself up to sit beside Scar, “a while back, Pearl taught me a saying.”

Scar raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Scott nods. “You’ll succumb to the darkness if you stare at the shadows for too long. Remember that a light source co-exists with them.” Scott places a hand on Scar’s arm. “You’ll find your light eventually.”

Scar smiles.

Grian, Scar has decided, is an idiot. He comes to this conclusion when the entire server is informed of Grian’s latest achievement via communicator.

Grian has made the advancement [We Need To Go Deeper]

Grian has gone to the Nether. Alone. However, Scar has yet to see a death message, so he supposes he has to give Grian some credit for surviving on his own for such a long period of time.

Without warning, an agonising, burning pain erupts in Scar���s chest. He cries out and stumbles back, clutching a handful of the tattered fabric near the top of his shirt. After a moment, the pain fades, and Scar breathes. Whoever his soulmate is, he can only imagine what they’ve managed to get themselves into.

His communicator buzzes several times, and he glances down.

Grian: ive made a mistake Grian: guys i need help Grian: please Grian: im being chased Grian: im gonna die

Scar very heroically resists the urge to respond with mockery, though he does allow himself to laugh at Grian’s misfortune. In a friendly, light-hearted way, y’know?

GoodTimeWithScar: coords?

Grian: SCAR Grian: will send coords in a sec Grian: am currently running for my life

Scar snorts as he slides his iron sword into its sheath, sitting comfortably on his hip. He receives Grian’s coordinates as he retrieves extra tools and Ender Pearls, as well as the rough location of the portal Grian used. He winces as another brief, sharp stab of pain cuts through his arm, and slings a backpack over his shoulders, ticking off a mental checklist of items before he sets out in search of the portal.

GoodTimeWithScar has made the advancement [We Need To Go Deeper]

By the time he reaches the Nether, Scar is down to three hearts. He’s rather offended that his soulmate has chosen now of all times to run into danger and get themselves hurt, but then again, Scar does that all the time. Reckless minds think alike, he supposes.

Grian whispers to you: scar pls help Grian whispers to you: i'm low Grian whispers to you: sending new coords asap

Scar pulls his sword from its sheath and deflects a fireball flying towards him in one fluid movement, scaring off the Ghast that dares to attack him while he’s preoccupied. Grian sends through the updated coordinates, and Scar moves immediately. His current location isn’t far, and Scar can faintly hear Wither Skeletons in the distance. His heart rate picks up, and he runs, dodging Blazes and Piglins with uncharacteristic agility. He stumbles when he’s met with another bolt of pain, but it seems his soulmate is making a valiant effort to keep the two of them alive. Scar has no idea how they do it, but he isn’t complaining.

Grian comes into view, battered and bruised. Behind him, several Wither Skeletons are in pursuit, weapons at the ready. Scar meets Grian’s eyes, and Grian’s eyes light up, his pinched expression relaxing in overwhelming relief.

“Scar—“

Grian cuts himself off with a pained cry, and at the same time, Scar feels the nauseating poison of Wither pulse through his veins.

…Oh.

Oh.

Grian stumbles, and Scar rushes forward, summoning his axe and swinging over, and over, and over, until the skeletons have been reduced to a pile of ashen bones. After banishing the weapon and retrieving the mobs’ loot, Scar realises Grian is on the ground. Not moving.

Scar glances down at his inner left wrist, and his eyes widen.

He and his soulmate — he and Grian — are on half a heart. Scar is confident he won’t be standing for very long once the adrenaline wears off if they don’t heal soon. Ignoring that for the time being, he scrambles to Grian’s side, kneeling down and carefully manoeuvring his unconscious form so he’s laying on his back.

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar mutters, reaching down to gently pat Grian’s cheek while using his free hand to lift an apple to his mouth. “Wakey wakey.”

A small sigh of relief slips past Scar’s lips as he watches their shared hearts slowly regenerate, and Grian’s eyelids flutter. Immediately, he moves to sit up, and Scar scrambles to help, tossing the half-eaten apple aside.

“Whoa, hey, easy.” Scar brushes stray hair away from Grian’s eyes, keeping a firm grip on his shoulder with his other hand to steady him. “You’re alright.”

Grian reaches up to run a hand through his hair as Scar helps him to his feet. “Wow,” he breathes, his eyes wide. “That was– Okay, yeah, that was stupid, why did I do that–” As Scar steps away, Grian shoots a grateful smile in his direction. “Thanks, Scar.” He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine my soulmate would’ve been too happy with us becoming the first Yellow Names on the server.”

Scar laughs. “I’m sure I’d find it in my heart to forgive you.” Grian’s sheepish expression fades, and he blinks, perplexed.

“What?”

Somewhere behind Scar, a Ghast cries. A fireball flies towards them, and Grian cries out, but Scar simply steps into its path, making no move to defend himself. The projectile hits its mark, and as Scar stumbles back, Grian winces, his stomach burning in the exact same place where Scar was struck. His eyes widen, and he stares at Scar, looking almost betrayed. Scar almost laughs, but he bites his tongue.

“How long have you known about this?”

In lieu of an answer, Scar shrugs, nonchalant.

“Scar!?”

Scar laughs, lifting a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound as Grian glares. “Listen, why don’t we head back to the portal and I’ll tell you the tragic tale of me; the man who didn’t think he had a soulmate, which was really stupid of him to be honest—“

“Oh my goodness, Scar—“

#double life #double life oneshot #canon divergence #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #desertduo #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

The Sky Colour’s Red

Prompt: “I need to tell you something.” Summary: Keeping secrets in the apocalypse never ends well, especially when you and your best friend end up in what could become a life-or-death situation. Pairing(s): Tommy & Tubbo Warning(s): Injury Character(s): Tommy, Tubbo Notes: The title of this comes from The Apocalypse by NIVIRO! [AO3 link]

There is no warning before blood-red vines burst in through the windows, but Tommy is quick to jump into action when they invade the building he and Tubbo are currently occupying. Knife in hand, he grabs Tubbo’s arm, pulling him away and down the nearby corridor as the vines snake towards them.

“Shit,” Tubbo gasps as they run. “How’d it find us so fast?”

“Who fucking knows, just run!”

That’s a lie. Tommy knows exactly how E66 — the pandemic plaguing the world — found them within mere hours of them entering the building. It tends to be drawn to those it has infected, and this one is no different.

A vine wraps itself around Tommy’s leg, and he flinches, grateful for the protective clothing Tubbo had found at an abandoned military checkpoint. He leans down and slices the end off with his knife, shakes off what’s still attached to his leg, and keeps running.

“Tommy?!”

“I’m right behind you, don’t slow down!”

Gunshots ring out, and a few paces ahead, Tommy sees Tubbo stop in his tracks – what did he just fucking say? – breathing heavily. He has a tight grip on his pistol, and a vine lies dead on the ground in front of him.

Tommy assumes the worst.

“Fuck, did it get you?” Tommy rushes to Tubbo’s side and places a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide. “Shit.”

“I’m–” Tubbo swallows. “I’m okay. It couldn’t reach the skin.”

Tommy releases a breath he doesn’t realise he’s been holding. “Oh, thank Prime.”

There’s a sound behind them, and Tommy ushers Tubbo further down the hall. “C’mon, we gotta–”

Without warning, a vine bursts from a ventilation hatch above their heads and grabs Tommy around the neck, where there is nothing protecting his skin. He claws at it, having dropped his knife when grabbed, but it doesn’t budge.

“Tommy!”

Three gunshots ring out close to Tommy’s ear, and the vine loosens its grip. Tommy takes the opportunity to wriggle out of its grasp, breaths shaking as his feet hit the ground. He retrieves his knife, and the vines seemingly retreat, giving the duo a moment to collect themselves.

“Holy fuck,” Tubbo whispers, staring at Tommy with wide eyes. “Holy fuck. Tommy, you—“ Tubbo’s eyes are shining with tears, and Tommy is unsure as to why until he notices the burning around his neck. He lifts a hand, and his breath catches when his fingers brush against–

Shit.

Hands shaking, Tubbo fumbles with his pistol, attempting to replace the magazine. It slides in with a satisfying click, and, in no surprise to Tommy, Tubbo lifts the weapon and points it right at him, tears rolling down his cheeks. Tommy knows he’s seen the ugly, red rash that is slowly invading the skin of his neck.

“You’re infected.”

Immediately, Tommy sees Tubbo’s finger move to the trigger. However, Tubbo hesitates, and Tommy snatches the opportunity that presents itself, moving to disarm him before he can react.

“Tubbo,” Tommy says, throwing the pistol aside, “I need to tell you something.”

Eyes wide, Tubbo blinks, gaze flicking between the discarded pistol and Tommy. “Wh– What–?”

Tommy hunches his shoulders, crossing his arms. “I’m… immune. To all this E66 shit. I have no fucking clue how, but I am. That’s, uh… that’s how it was able to find us so fast. Because I’ve been infected before.”

Tubbo blinks again, visibly trembling where he stands.

“What?” 

Tommy runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, trying to think of how best to explain his situation. “I seriously don’t know how, and— fuck, I don’t even know why, but— Look, if you don’t believe me, just—“

Tommy steps back, and as Tubbo watches, disbelieving, he pulls down the sleeve of his left arm, just enough to reveal a similar rash around his wrist. The colour is so faded you can barely see it, but it indeed resembles what’s on Tommy’s neck.

“You remember when we met, right? You saved me from some of those crazy fuckers who’d gone insane with the infection?”

Tubbo nods, seeming to relax a little as he processes the situation. “You— Shit, did they infect you?”

“Yeah.” Tommy pulls his sleeve back up and leans against a nearby wall. “I didn’t want to say anything because— Well, because I was fucking terrified of what would happen. I didn’t know if I was just gonna die, or become one of the fucking loonies roaming around, or—“ Tommy bites his tongue. “You get the idea.”

“…You do realise hiding the infection before you knew you were immune is, like, the worst possible thing you could have done,” Tubbo says, deadpan. Tommy barks out a laugh, surprised that his friend is handling this so unbelievably well.

“That’s a very reasonable and valid point, Tubs, but consider: I didn’t want to scare off the first person I’d met since the world went to shit.”

Tubbo crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk slowly growing on his face. “You could’ve killed me, Tom.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh no, yeah, you’re right. I would’ve beat your ass before you got anywhere near me.”

Tommy’s jaw drops. “Wha– Fuck you!”

Tubbo laughs as he walks off to retrieve the pistol, ensuring the safety is switched on before he approaches Tommy again.

“In all seriousness,” Tubbo starts, smiling. “I’m glad you’re not dying. Or dead. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tommy returns the smile. “The feeling’s mutual. Honestly, I don’t even know who I’d be without you.”

It’s subtle, but Tommy sees Tubbo’s brow furrow. “Uh… yourself?”

Tommy shrugs. “In this bitch of a world? Who the fuck knows?”

And the two of them laugh, momentarily allowing themselves to forget their terrible circumstances. In a world like this, you need all the help you can get, and Tommy and Tubbo are glad they can rely on each other, even when the odds seem stacked against them.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #apocalypse au #tommyinnit #tubbo #c!clingyduo #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Stop Thinking You’re a God

Prompt: Character injury comfort Summary: A trip to the Nether goes awry, Techno gets injured, and Phil refuses to let him deal with it alone. Pairing(s): Technoblade & Philza Warning(s): Injury, blood Character(s): Technoblade, Philza Notes: Written for myliloinkoink as part of Fic Fight! Title comes from @anarchist-title-thoughts​. [AO3 link]

In Techno’s defence, Piglins usually ignore him. He won’t say it’s because they adore him or anything, but rather because they seem to have the decency to respect a descendant of their species. Of course, their love of gold overrules everything else, so when they inevitably surround him during a routine trip to the Nether, oinking out a request that sounds much more like a threat, Techno finds his pockets are empty. No gold, though he swears he grabbed some before he left.

The group closes in, and Techno is forced to run. Looking over his shoulder, he notices that there is a much denser concentration of Piglins than usual; abnormal for such a small area of the realm. Realising he won’t make it to the portal alive if he’s pursued, Techno summons his shield in his off-hand, pulls out his axe, and turns around to face the horde, prepared to slow them down. Immediately, the Voices begin whispering to him.

Fight fight fight

You can take them Techno

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

A blood red hue overwhelms Techno’s vision, and a thick, heavy fog settles in his head. He feels his grip on his axe tighten, but beyond that, he barely remembers a thing. When the fog lifts, and the red fades, he finds himself surrounded by mangled Piglin corpses, the portal back to the Overworld visible in the distance.

The voices have quieted, Techno notes, simultaneously registering the agonising pain in his side. He feels warm liquid trickle down his leg and reaches for a healing potion, only to find he has neglected to bring some along, having assumed it would be a smooth journey.

It’s fine, there are potions aplenty back at his base. He’ll be fine.

…Hopefully.

It’s dark in the Overworld when Techno stumbles through the portal, one hand clamped over the gash in his side while the other reaches for a lantern. He can see the faint outline of his house in the distance, and though all the movement is definitely screwing with his injury, he starts walking.

When Techno arrives at his base, he half expects Phil to be standing on the platform connecting their houses, waiting. But he isn’t, so Techno assumes he’s asleep. It makes sense; he didn’t exactly tell anyone about his plans for a late-night adventure. Up on the hill, Ranboo’s house is dark, save for a few torches scattered around the perimeter. Techno is well aware Ranboo is prone to sleepwalking, so he makes a mental note to check on him after he’s dealt with his injury.

Footsteps light, he slips into his house, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. Edward vwoops in greeting, and just when Techno thinks he’s safe—

“And where have you been?”

Techno’s soul momentarily ascends from his body when Phil’s low voice fills the room. The space lights up, and Techno squints against the intensity, watching as Phil crosses his arms, an unamused expression on his face.

“Techno,” Phil says, “where have you been?”

Techno rolls his eyes, scooting past to get to the chests guarded diligently by Edward, who barely bats an eye as he begins to rummage, depositing unnecessary supplies from his inventory. “Hullo to you too.”

“Mate, it’s the middle of the night! A message on comms at the least would’ve been nice.”

Techno sighs, moving to stand. He winces when the motion pulls at his wound.

Phil notices.

“Techno.” Phil’s brow furrows. “Are you hurt?”

Techno huffs, and would almost be amused if not for his current circumstances. “You worry too much, Philza.”

“I think I worry just enough.” Reluctantly, Techno allows Phil to guide him away from the cramped chest area and back towards the door, where the lighting is significantly better. “Move your hand.”

Techno lifts the hand not currently occupied with preventing severe blood loss and wiggles his fingers. Phil doesn’t seem impressed.

“Your other hand, Techno. C’mon, don’t be difficult; you know I just want to help.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that,” Techno responds, sincere. “But it’s late, Phil. Just— Go back to sleep. I can deal with this.”

Techno expects Phil to put up more of a fight, so when Phil simply sighs, it catches him completely off-guard.

“Alright, just— Let me grab some healing and regen pots for you?”

Techno bites his lip, barely suppressing an amused snort. No matter how hard he tries, Phil can never really find it within himself to leave someone to their own devices. Techno supposes it’s the bird instincts, and considering how much pain he’s currently in, he doesn’t really blame his friend for being stubborn.

“Sure. I think there are some upstairs—“

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Phil interjects, approaching the door. “Give me a minute.”

And Phil leaves, supposedly to raid his own personal potion supply. Albeit hesitantly, Techno takes the opportunity to assess the wound. When he lifts his hand, it is caked in blood, though the injury itself no longer seems to be bleeding as much as it had been back in the Nether. For that, Techno allows himself a small sigh of relief, just as Phil bursts back in, arms full of health and regeneration potions. His eyes immediately land on Techno’s exposed wound, and he almost drops the glass bottles, liquid sloshing around dangerously as he pales.

“Shit,” Phil mutters, rushing to Techno’s side, kneeling to his level — wait, when did he sit down? Wasn’t he just standing? — and carefully putting the potions down beside him. “Techno, what the fuck—“

“Relax, Phil,” Techno says, noting the way Phil’s hands are trembling as they hover helplessly. “It—“ He winces as a bolt of pain runs through him. “It looks worse than it feels, trust me.” He goes for an easygoing grin, but judging by Phil’s expression, he isn’t convinced.

“Techno.” Phil looks Techno dead in the eyes, and Techno reluctantly holds his gaze. “What. Happened.”

It’s clear Phil no longer intends to leave Techno alone to deal with the situation, likely swayed by the realisation that things are just a tad worse than Techno made them out to be.

Techno gives in. “Piglins,” he mutters. “Jumped me in the Nether. Forgot to take gold. Had to fight my way through.”

Phil raises an eyebrow, retrieving a healing potion and pressing it into Techno’s hands. Techno immediately pulls out the cork and begins drinking. “You don’t normally take on that many Piglins solo, Techno.”

Techno throws the empty glass bottle aside, wiping his mouth. “Wasn’t exactly a willin’ participant in the battle.”

Realisation dawns on Phil’s face almost immediately. “The Voices.”

As if on cue, the Voices pipe up.

Are you okay?

We’re sorry Techno!

Phil’s brow furrows as he offers Techno a regeneration potion, which he gladly accepts. “Wait– What were you even doing in the Nether this late at night? Surely whatever you were doing could’ve waited until morning? You know I’d back you up.”

Techno exhales sharply through his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m an idiot.”

“I did not say that.”

Techno snickers. “The implication is very obvious, Philza.”

“You fucking–” Phil huffs out a laugh, and Techno lets him reach over and carefully peel his torn clothing away from his injury, which, thanks to the potions, is already beginning to heal. With some assistance from Phil, Techno hauls himself to his feet, shooting a grateful smile in his friend’s direction.

“Thank you, Phil.”

Phil grins. “It’s not a problem, mate. Just– Maybe don’t go running off in the middle of the night again without at least letting me know where you’re going?”

“Alright, fine,” Techno grumbles. “Oh, and about your potions–”

“We’re friends, Techno,” Phil says as he retrieves the leftover potions and heads towards the door, “you don’t have to repay me.”

Techno crosses his arms. “You sure?”

“Yes, Techno. Jesus– I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Try not to die in your sleep or anything.”

“Will do,” Techno responds, shooting Phil a mock salute just before the door closes. Behind him, Edward warbles happily, and Techno chuckles.

Glad you’re alright Techno

Philza on his friend arc

For the first time, the Voices fall silent without prompting, and Techno feels at peace. And, though he will never admit it aloud, he’s glad he has Phil as a friend.

The following morning, Phil wakes to find unread messages on his communicator.

Technoblade whispers to you: I appreciate you philza minecraft Technoblade whispers to you: But don’t tell anyone I said that Technoblade whispers to you: Please

Phil smiles.

You whisper to Technoblade: <3

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #technoblade #philza #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Royal Flush

Prompt: Royalty / Historical AU Summary: Tubbo discovers the truth behind his royal heritage. Pairing(s): Tubbo & Ranboo Warning(s): None Character(s): Tubbo, Ranboo [AO3 link]

The day he turns seventeen, Tubbo discovers the truth. Since childhood, the idea of upholding family traditions has been practically shoved down his throat, though back then, he never questioned it. Now, he knows he isn’t a prince, nor does he possess the blood of the royal family.

He’s a fake.

“I just don’t understand why they never told me.” Tubbo flops backwards onto his bed, legs flying into the air. “I probably would’ve been fine standing in for the real prince if they’d asked, but no, instead they decided to lie to me.”

Tubbo’s personal guard, who is standing by the door, frowns. “If I had to take a guess, they were probably worried you’d run off and make it public knowledge. The last thing the royal family would want is to get tied up in such a big scandal. It’d ruin them.”

Tubbo sits up and shoots a smirk in his personal guard’s direction. “You sure seem to know a lot about them to be saying that, Ranboo.”

Ranboo’s cheeks redden, and he averts his gaze. “I’m a guard; it’s kinda my job to know.”

Tubbo rolls his eyes, his expression softening into a playful smile. “Yeah, I know, I’m just fucking with you.”

Ranboo snorts. “You know Their Majesties would actually kill you if they heard you using that kind of language.” Tubbo simply shrugs, leaning back slightly.

“Considering I’m not their ‘real’ prince, I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

“You’re awfully confident I’m not just gonna go immediately inform Their Majesties of your conduct the moment we part ways.”

Tubbo quiets. “You– You’re not actually gonna do that though, right?” His eyes grow big; pleading, and Ranboo laughs.

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you. We’re friends.”

Friends.

Warmth blooms in Tubbo’s chest. Besides the Watson-Soot family, Tubbo doesn’t have many friends, which makes his bond with Ranboo all the more valuable.

“So… what’re you gonna do?”

Tubbo blinks. “What?”

Ranboo steps forward. “Well, you know the truth now, so… surely you’ve got, like, a plan? Going forward?”

Tubbo’s brow furrows. “Uh… kinda?” He averts his gaze. “I must’ve been chosen as a stand-in for a reason, so I’m probably just gonna keep playing along; see how far that gets me. Besides, I’m willing to bet this was all done because whoever the Crown Prince is doesn’t want anything to do with all… this.”

Ranboo bows his head, his expression pinched. “You’d be right.”

Ranboo’s hands are trembling. It doesn’t take Tubbo very long to connect the dots.

“Wait…” Tubbo’s brow furrows. “Ranboo, are you— No, surely not…”

The moment Ranboo lifts his head, Tubbo looks him dead in the eyes. He’s always been complimented for how observant he can be, though before now, he’s never paid it much mind.

“You’re fucking kidding,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Reluctantly, he hops off the bed and plants his hands on his hips as Ranboo shoots him a sheepish grin. “Okay, when people talk about ‘hiding in plain sight,’ I never actually expected that method to work. What the hell?”

Ranboo shrugs, once again averting his gaze. “It’s a long story.”

“I can imagine,” Tubbo responds, raising an eyebrow before smiling. “Which is why I’m not gonna ask.”

Ranboo blinks. “Wha—“

“Look; you have your reasons, and I have mine. And clearly neither of us are happy here.” Tubbo allows himself a moment to flash a triumphant grin. “Y’know what, fuck what I just said; screw playing along, let’s pretend neither of us have ties to the literal royal family and run away together!”

Tubbo swears he hears crickets in the silence that follows.

“I mean absolutely no offence,” Ranboo starts, “but are you insane?! The royal family kinda needs an heir—“

“That may be true, but considering you, the literal Crown Prince, aren't willing to take on that responsibility, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say royal life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

Ranboo opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it. He’s known Tubbo for a long time; long enough to know when he’s lost an argument. “Okay, well, say we go through with this. Where would we go?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Y’know the village on the outskirts of the kingdom?”

Ranboo nods.

“I’ve got friends there; they’ll be more than happy to take us in.”

Ranboo bites his lip, feet shuffling awkwardly as his gaze drops to the ground. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t, um— Surely we’d be intruding?”

Tubbo rolls his eyes, affection and endearment clear in the action. “Ranboo, the Watson-Soot family practically raised me— Well, before I was dragged off to be a fake heir to the throne, that is. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

Ranboo looks up, eyes framed by his hair. Tubbo has expressed distaste for how long it is on occasion, but Ranboo simply refuses to cut it. “And if they figure out who I am…?”

“If they treat you any differently, I’ll kick their asses.” Tubbo holds his arms high over his head in a stretch. His back pops, and his arms flop back down to his sides. He plants one hand back on his hip, and reaches out to Ranboo with the other.

“So, are you in or what?”

Over the course of his life, Ranboo has made plenty of decisions he regrets.

Taking Tubbo’s hand isn’t one of them.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #tubbo #ranboo #c!beeduo #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Magical Mayhem

Prompt: Acquiring power at a young age Summary: Long before he’s supposed to, sixteen-year-old Tommy develops fantastical powers that he cannot control. Concerned for his safety, his family sends him to an esteemed sorcerer living in a distant city, known only as Ranboo. Pairing(s): Won’t list all of them but Alliumduo is supposed to be the main one. Warning(s): None Character(s): Tommy, Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil, Kristin, Wilbur Notes: This was written for CardCatCardboard as part of Fic Fight; a fic-writing event inspired by Art Fight! [AO3 link]

Tommy has heard many stories about the magic imbued within mortals. At the mere age of fifteen, he has practically memorised the fundamentals, alongside other, less important details. Everyone in his family — adoptive family, technically, but he doesn’t see much of a difference — has already unlocked their power, and though he’s desperate to join them, he’s been told time and time again that he will have to wait at least another three years, and, in a worst-case scenario, five years maximum.

“But why can’t I unlock my magic now? I wanna be like you, Phil!”

A chuckle, low and fond. A hand on his head, fingers tangled in his golden hair. “I know it sucks, but you have to be patient, Tom. You remember what we told you about magic’s development; it takes time.”

Then, Tommy’s sixteenth birthday rolls around, and he wakes up tangled in a mess of vines and flowers.

He screams, and Phil, Wilbur and Kristin all come running.

A loud exclamation of, “What the fuck?” is the first thing Tommy hears when the door to his bedroom bursts open. A lump lodges itself into his throat, and his eyes quickly fill with tears, a strangled sob escaping moments later.

“Help,” he chokes out, wincing as the vines tighten around him. He hears frantic shuffling, and, through the vines partially concealing his vision, sees Wilbur approach, hands bathed in a soft orange glow.

“Keep still for me, Tommy,” Wilbur murmurs, and reaches for the vines. Tommy tenses every muscle in his body, acutely aware of what’s coming next. Flames erupt from Wilbur’s palms, and Tommy just barely suppresses a flinch. It’s not that he hasn’t seen Wilbur use his magic before; it just always manages to take him by surprise.

It takes several minutes, but Wilbur manages to burn through enough vines for Tommy to scramble out of bed, a dull thud echoing around the room as he lands in a very uncomfortable position on the floor. Wilbur kneels down and grabs him under his shoulders, hoisting him to his feet. Kristin immediately rushes forward and starts fussing over him, demanding to know if he’s alright, while Phil hangs back and examines the room, hoping to find a source for the mysterious vines. His eyes land on one of the potted plants hanging from the ceiling, which, despite looking perfectly normal the previous day, is now severely overgrown. Coincidentally, the vines which have sprouted appear to be the same ones which trapped Tommy, which Phil determines by quickly following their path of growth.

Everything clicks. Phil’s eyes grow wide.

“Tommy.”

Their eyes meet.

“We need to have a talk. All of us.”

What starts out as an ordinary family meeting in the living room quickly descends into chaos when Phil drops the bombshell.

“I think Tommy’s powers are developing.”

Kristin gasps. Wilbur’s brow furrows, and his grip on the couch’s armrest tightens. Tommy sits there, unmoving, save for his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Wait, but— How’s that possible?” Wilbur pipes up. “Tommy’s only sixteen; he shouldn’t be unlocking his magic this early!”

Kristin hums in agreement. “It’s true; nobody’s ever gotten their powers this early. There’d be a record of it.”

Kristin stands, and she and Phil quickly lose themselves in a hushed conversation in the corner of the room. Tommy hasn’t moved.

A hand brushes against his arm, making him jump.

“Sorry,” Wilbur whispers, apologetic. “You alright?”

Tommy nods.

“It’s a lot, I know, especially because you’re so young. You’ll be alright, Tom. Promise.”

Tommy believes him.

A week later, following several mishaps involving Tommy’s chaotic magic, Phil and Kristin make a decision.

“We’re sending you to End City.”

Tommy’s jaw drops. Wilbur, who is standing next to him, takes in a sharp breath. Around them, the plants dotted around the room start to twitch.

“Before you say anything,” Kristin starts, before Tommy can protest, “we’re doing this out of concern for your wellbeing more than anything else. We know you don’t like the city, but your lack of control over your magic might get you hurt, and we don’t want to see that happen.”

Tommy scoffs. “But why the fuck are you sending me all the way to fucking End City? Why can’t I stay here?”

Phil steps forward. “Because that’s where Ranboo lives.”

Ranboo. Tommy has heard the name, albeit on only a few occasions. Stories say he was once a legendary sorcerer, who eventually decided to settle down with a good friend of his. His odd alias stems from a lack of knowledge regarding his true name, which he refuses to share, though his magic is an entirely different story. He possesses the power of Psychometry, which… Well, Tommy tends to forget what it means.

“Ranboo was one of the greatest sorcerers of our time,” Phil explains, gesturing to himself and Kristin, who nods in agreement, “it stands to reason that he’ll know what’s going on and how to deal with it.”

“Wait— Hold on,” Wilbur interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you saying Tommy’s going to have to travel all the way to End City? Alone? You realise he’s only a teenager, right?”

Phil sighs, exasperated. “Yes, Wil, I’m aware. Of course I’m not sending Tommy to the city by himself.” As if on cue, a crow flies in through the nearby window and perches itself onto Tommy’s shoulder, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Ah, there you are.” Phil smiles as Tommy laughs, the crow’s feathers tickling his skin. “That’s Chat. They’ll be keeping you company until you find Ranboo.”

Tommy blinks. “But I can’t talk to animals.”

“You won’t have to; turns out this little guy can write,” Phil responds, reaching out to gently stroke Chat’s head with his forefinger.

“Huh.”

Kristin walks up to Tommy and places a hand on his arm, using the other to brush stray hair out of his eyes. “Now, you know the way to the city, don’t you?” she asks, a playful grin growing on her face. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

Tommy looks her in the eyes, deadpan, before his gaze drifts over to Phil. “I have just decided I hate your wife, Philza. Get another one.”

Kristin snorts, and Phil, taken completely off guard, barks out a startled laugh. Kristin allows herself to be shooed into another room, and Tommy is ushered out the front door before any more chaos can ensue, Chat perched comfortably on his shoulder.

Tommy stares at the map of End City for the fifth time since arriving, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Y’know, they could’ve made this a bit easier by— Oh, I dunno, marking the location on the fucking map,” Tommy murmurs, to which Chat trills in response. “Don’t suppose you have any idea where we’re going?”

Chat hops down onto one of Tommy’s hands, and at the same time, he notices flowers blooming at his feet. He can feel the perplexed stares of passers-by on him, but rather than yell and make a scene, he instead opts to keep quiet, knowing there’s not much he can do about his magic until he finds Ranboo.

Chat taps a talon on the map, the location they indicate only appearing to be a short distance away.

“Are you fucking serious,” Tommy mutters, letting Chat hop back up onto his shoulder before rolling up the map and slipping it back into his bag. “Well, at least now I know where the hell I’m going.”

One short walk later, and Tommy finds himself standing in front of what, in his opinion, is an extremely conspicuous-looking building. It isn’t anything modest, either; it’s an honest-to-Prime mansion, of all things. Tommy considers turning around and pretending he never saw it — he’s sure Phil and the others would welcome him back with open arms if he just told them he’d gotten lost on the way — but that train of thought crashes and smashes into a billion pieces when Chat smacks him with a wing, letting out a shrill caw.

“Alright, alright, I’m going! Pushy bastard…”

Vines curl around the doorframe as Tommy approaches, as if framing it for his arrival. He steps up towards the door, lifts the rusted gold knocker, and taps it against the wood three times. Moments later, the hinges groan obnoxiously loudly, and the door swings open, revealing a man who, in comparison to Tommy, is very fucking tall.

“Can I help you?” the man asks in lieu of a greeting. Then, his eyes — which Tommy notices are two different colours; red and green — drift to Tommy’s crow companion, and his previously stoic expression softens in recognition. “Ah,” he murmurs. “My apologies, I didn’t recognise you. You’re Tommy, right?”

Tommy nods, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Philza sent me a letter informing me of your arrival in advance. My name is Ranboo, by the way, but you probably already know that.” Ranboo steps aside. “Please, come in.”

Tommy snorts as he steps inside. “I advise you to keep an eye on your plants while I’m around, Ranboob.”

Ranboo appears unamused upon hearing the nickname, but Tommy sees the ghost of a smile.

“You’ll be happy to know I don’t keep plants. Too much effort.”

As Tommy and Ranboo walk down the long hall from the door, a head peers out from behind the doorframe of the room on the far end.

“Who the hell is that?”

Ranboo pinches the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger and ushers Tommy into the room with the stranger. “I swear to Prime— I literally told you twenty minutes ago, Tubbo!”

The stranger — Tubbo? These names just keep getting weirder — casts his gaze towards the ceiling, as if in thought. After a moment, his eyes land back on Ranboo, and he smirks.

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to piss you off.”

Ranboo buries his face in his hands. Tommy, completely and utterly out of the loop, watches the exchange from the sidelines, completely silent. Chat seems to be doing the same, and looks equally as entertained.

“I hate you,” is the first thing Ranboo says when he lifts his head. “I actually hate you.”

“Love you too.”

Ranboo throws— something at Tubbo, but it is deflected by a glowing energy field that surrounds Tubbo faster than Tommy can blink. The two of them descend into fits of giggles, and though Tommy hates to ruin the moment — that’s absolutely a lie — he clears his throat loudly enough to capture their attention.

“Oh!” Ranboo’s eyes widen, and he scratches the back of his neck, almost sheepishly, as he turns around to face Tommy. “Sorry about that. This is Tubbo; he’s a good friend of mine.”

“Sup?”

Tommy crosses his arms loosely over his chest. “Nothing, unfortunately; bit of a shit day, if I’m honest. What about you, king?”

Tubbo lifts his arms over his head in a short stretch. “Same, honestly.”

“So… what seems to be the problem, Tommy?”

Tommy blinks at Ranboo. “Phil didn’t tell you?”

Ranboo shrugs. “He explained it briefly in his letter, but it was nothing super detailed. All he really said was that you’ve developed your powers super early and can’t control them properly.”

Tommy sucks in a breath through his teeth and averts his gaze. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Ranboo nudges his arm. “Weird question, but do you mind if I look in your bag for a sec?”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “Sure…?” He slips his bag off his shoulders and hands it to Ranboo, who begins rummaging through it. Eventually, he pulls out the music disc Tommy keeps on his person at all times. It’s a weird thing to be attached to, he knows, but it was a gift and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t guard it with his life.

“This’ll work,” Ranboo murmurs, before his eyes start glowing purple.

“Whoa.” Tommy takes a step back. “That’s– Okay–” He turns to Tubbo. “Is this– Does he do this often?”

Tubbo nods. “Yeah, it’s how his power works. He can see into people’s pasts and shit, but he’s gotta touch an object associated with them first. It’s weird, I know.”

So that’s what Psychometry means.

Ranboo blinks, and the purple fades from his eyes. “Right, I see the problem,” he says immediately, tossing the music disc and bag in Tommy’s direction. By some miracle, Tommy manages to catch both, and levels a glare in Ranboo’s direction as he continues talking. “So, you woke up on your sixteenth birthday basically getting attacked by plants. You got out, things escalated from there, and– Yeah, I see why Phil sent you here.”

Tommy slings his bag back over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Are you going to help me or not, dickhead?”

“Oh, I dunno; I don’t think I can work with such an unbearable child,” Ranboo says, but he’s grinning. Tubbo snorts, but quickly covers it up with a cough when both pairs of eyes turn to him.

“Wait, so…” Tommy bites his lip, and the two of them lock eyes. “Is that a yes?”

Ranboo rolls his eyes. “Yes, Tommy. I’ll help you get a grip on your magic. No doubt I’d face Phil’s wrath if I refused.”

Tommy laughs, and Ranboo and Tubbo are quick to join in.

He supposes he can live with this, however long it may last.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #fantasy au #tommyinnit #ranboo #tubbo #wilbur soot #philza #dsmp kristin #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Where Loyalties Lie

Prompt: “I have to go. My friends need me.” Summary: Pogtopia is in danger, and Eret wants to help. Things go awry when an old friend from L’Manberg times shows up. Pairing(s): Eret & Jack Manifold Warning(s): Murder mentions (via death messages) Character(s): Eret, Jack Manifold [AO3 link]

Eret first receives the news through a global message sent via the comms system.

jschlatt: An illegal underground settlement has just been discovered. All citizens of this ‘Pogtopia’ and those found to be associates are guilty of conspiracy against our great nation, and must be dealt with immediately.

Beneath President Schlatt’s message is a string of coordinates, which Eret can only assume marks the location of wherever Wilbur, Tommy, Niki and Fundy have been hiding since the election, accompanied by the legendary Technoblade. She did try to get in contact, not long after Schlatt took up his position, but all she received was radio silence, or, in Tommy’s case, a simple ‘Fuck off’ and nothing more.

Eret is a traitor. He knows this. But sitting idly by while Schlatt and his lackeys storm the cave systems with intent to spill blood just feels wrong.

They have to help.

Slipping out of the castle undetected is easy, as most of the SMP’s population seems to have been drawn away by Schlatt’s announcement. Coordinates crystal clear in her mind, Eret sets off, donning her armour and summoning her shield in her off-hand. She travels roughly one hundred blocks before her communicator dings.

JackManifoldTV whispers to you: I see you

Eret frowns at the message. He glances up and scans the terrain, only to catch a brief glimpse of a blue and black blob in the distance, perched atop a nearby ledge.

You whisper to JackManifoldTV: I see you too

There is a brief moment of pause as Eret assumes Jack is writing a response.

JackManifoldTV whispers to you: What are you up to?? Looking pretty sus

Eret’s brow furrows. They suppose they should’ve expected this; the scepticism. People are bound to hold a grudge when you betray them in favour of their enemy.

You whisper to JackManifoldTV: I’m not wasting my time explaining myself to you

Eret pockets her communicator and continues walking, only to stop again when an Ender Pearl collides with her arm. She shoves her shield between herself and her attacker as hands grab at her shoulders, sword materialising in her opposite hand. She thrusts the tip of the blade towards the attacker’s throat, and is met with a surprised yelp. The attacker stumbles back, headset clattering on the ground as it slips off their head.

“Interesting technique,” Eret remarks, banishing their sword and lowering their shield. “Did you seriously waste a pearl to ambush me? Without any gear?”

Jack retrieves his headset and slides it back over his ears. “It was intended to be a faster way of reaching you, but whatever floats your boat I guess.”

Eret plants her free hand on her hip. “What do you want? I already said I’m not explaining myself.”

“But why?” Jack throws his hands into the air. “You can’t go wandering around decked out in a full set of armour, holding a shield, and not expect someone to ask questions.”

Eret raises an eyebrow. “I… considering the server we’re on, it’s not really that odd.”

Jack falters, and his arms flop back down against his sides. “Ah— Wait, no, that’s besides the point.” He crosses his arms, an attempt to appear intimidating quickly becoming a weak glare. “Explain yourself.”

Eret shoves past Jack and continues walking, ignoring the latter’s indignant squawk. “I don’t have time for this,” he mutters.

A hand closes around his forearm.

“Eret, wait—“

“I have to go, Jack!” Eret rips her arm from Jack’s grip, ignoring his flinch. He reaches for her again, and she quickly pulls away, averting her gaze.

“My friends need me.”

Jack’s indifferent expression quickly morphs into one of utter bafflement. “‘Friends’? You— Oh, come on, you’re not seriously talking about them, are you?”

Eret doesn’t respond.

“You— You realise you fucked us over massively, right? You betrayed us!”

Eret bristles, rage slowly bubbling its way to the surface. “Pogtopia is in danger—“

“Yeah, and I doubt they want your help. Fuck– I’m honestly amazed you still consider them – consider us – friends after what you did. For the record, I doubt the feeling is mutual.”

Eret and Jack’s communicators buzz. Eret doesn’t move, instead opting to wait for Jack to retrieve his own. As Jack reads the recent message, Eret approaches slowly, leaning forward to see it for himself when he sees the colour drain from Jack’s face.

Tubbo_ was slain by jschlatt.

Eret’s eyes grow wide, and their heart leaps into their throat. They can feel Jack’s gaze on them, but they step back without a word, nor so much as a glance in his direction. They retrieve an apple from their inventory and take several bites before casting the core aside, wiping the juice from their mouth using their sleeve. They sigh, and their breath shakes.

“Well, are you planning on helping?”

“What a stupid fucking question — ‘course I am. Doesn’t mean I’m letting you come along, though.”

Eret finally meets Jack’s gaze, sceptical. “You’re going to Pogtopia. By yourself. Without any gear.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Uh, newsflash, ‘Your Highness’; Ender Chests exist.”

Eret banishes her shield and crosses her arms over her chest, unconvinced. “If you have one on you, why not just get your gear out before you get there?”

Jack opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his lips, transitioning into incoherent spluttering.

“Wha— You— Shut the fuck up, I— That’s what I was planning to do, I just— Fuck you, Eret. Piss off.”

Eret rolls his eyes. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Jack glares daggers, his eyes filled with raw, unfiltered rage. Eret doesn’t budge. Jack’s hands curl into fists, and his jaw clenches. Eret braces herself.

“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?” Eret’s body tenses. “Shit— You haven’t even made the effort to atone for your fuck-ups! How can you expect any of us to forgive you when you can’t even apologise?!”

Jack moves to walk away.

“Stay the hell away from us.”

And Eret sees red.

Moments later, a new message pops up in the global feed, for the entire SMP to see.

JackManifoldTV was slain by The_Eret.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #eret #jack manifold #canon divergence #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Get Down if You’re Scared of Heights

Prompt: “Don’t look down.” Summary: Tommy has a fear of heights. He hasn’t told Wilbur. Pairing(s): Tommy & Wilbur Warning(s): Mentions of attempted suicide Character(s): Tommy, Wilbur [AO3 link]

Tommy’s scared of a lot of things. Small spaces, Dream, losing the people he loves. However, there’s one fear nobody knows about, because Tommy never brings it up.

He is absolutely fucking petrified of heights. He never was before, and he blames exile – blames Dream for the quivering, cowardly mess he’s become.

He’s never told anyone. Not even Tubbo. So, when he and Wilbur travel to Logstedshire, and they begin towering right next to the structure that could have been his grave, he has to fight to maintain his composure.

Wilbur notices. Of course he does.

“Tommy?” The small platform of dirt beneath Wilbur’s feet crunches as he shifts his weight. “You alright, man?”

Tommy swallows; forces a smile. “‘Course I am, big man.”

Wilbur crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Right.” His lips quirk up into the tiniest of smiles. It’s lighthearted; teasing, and Tommy knows that, but his heart still sinks. “Good to know your lying hasn’t gotten any better.”

Tommy keeps up the act; doesn’t let the mask slip. He scoffs. “Fuck off, Wil, I–”

Then, his gaze drops to the ground far below him, and everything flies out the window because oh fuck he’s really fucking high up holy shit that’s a long drop.

Wilbur follows his gaze, and his eyes widen in recognition. Without saying a word, he takes more dirt blocks from his inventory and begins connecting them to the side of his tower, creating a bridge which dips slightly to meet Tommy’s own. Careful not to accidentally knock either of them off, Wilbur takes Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy flinches, and Wilbur squeezes; a feeble attempt at comfort. He notices Tommy’s breathing has grown more erratic, and the colour has drained from his face.

“Tommy, look at me.”

Tommy’s gaze snaps up to meet Wilbur’s. His eyes are glazed over.

“Don’t look down, okay?” Wilbur’s hands move to Tommy’s arms, slowly rubbing up and down. “Keep your eyes on me. You’re alright, I promise you’ll be alright.”

Tommy doesn’t speak. Wilbur pulls him close, takes out a shovel, and gets to work digging the dirt out from beneath them, slowly lowering them to the ground. Even after their feet meet solid terrain, Tommy stays clung to Wilbur for several seconds before hesitantly pulling back.

“...Fuck,” he eventually breathes, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Shit, I’m sorry Wil, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Wilbur snaps, regretting it immediately when Tommy flinches. His voice drops to something lower; quieter. “You were scared, Tommy. It’s normal.”

Tommy averts his gaze. “Yeah, but– but not for me.”

Wilbur frowns. “What do you–”

“I’m scared of heights, Wilbur.” Yeah, as if that isn’t already painfully obvious. “And… I wasn’t before.”

Wilbur crosses his arms loosely over his chest. “People develop new fears all the time, Tommy, it’s–”

“Yeah, but I doubt those fears come from jumping off a big, fuck off tower and nearly ending it all.”

Wilbur freezes. “What?”

Tommy gestures to the tower in the distance. “You want to know what that is, Wilbur? That’s where I went to kill myself because of what Dream did. The bottom of that tower almost became my grave, and so whenever I’m too high up, I just– I think about this and the fact that I let Dream worm his ugly Teletubby ass into my brain and mess with my head. So… yeah, I fucking hate heights now. Are you happy?”

Wilbur isn’t listening anymore. A more accurate phrase would be he can no longer hear Tommy; can no longer hear anything. Tommy’s voice and the sounds echoing throughout the SMP have all faded into white noise, and Wilbur finds himself in a place he vaguely recognises, surrounded by obsidian walls on every side. Behind him, he can hear the bubbles and pops of lava; feels the heat on his back.

“Wilbur?”

And there, standing in front of him, trapped in the lone prison cell, is Dream.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #c!crimeboys #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Caeruleum

Prompt: Reunion Summary: The Goddess of Death grants Tommy the opportunity to reunite with the ghost of his brother. Pairing(s): Tommy & Ghostbur, Tommy & Phil Warning(s): None I can think of Character(s): Tommy, Ghostbur, Phil, Kristin Notes: This is the first of several oneshots I’ll be writing for a DSMP bingo challenge being hosted in The Writer’s Block! Sign-ups for this event are closed, but you can still join the server just to hang out and chat using the link here! [AO3 link]

Phil may be old, but he isn’t blind. He notices the shift in Tommy’s demeanour long before anyone else seems to, just days after the plot to kill Dream goes wrong.

Ghostbur’s death affected everyone, even Phil himself. Learning his son is alive is incredible news, but a horrible pit still lies in his stomach; likely a product of guilt. Phil is struggling, but he knows Tommy is too; much more so than anyone else on the server, he’s willing to wager.

So, after a long while of Tommy closing himself off, barely speaking to anyone without his mask of overconfidence and cockiness, Phil decides he can no longer sit idly by and let Tommy wallow in what he’s positive is self-blame.

After a short walk through the woods, he finds what he’s searching for: a shrine; one you wouldn’t see unless you were looking for it. He steps up to it, closes his eyes, and bows his head. He clasps his hands together and mutters something in a language only he and few others understand.

Without so much as a shift in the wind, a new presence materialises, and Phil opens his eyes. In front of him, the Goddess of Death smiles.

“Hello, Phil,” she says. She opens her arms, and Phil is quick to step into her embrace.

“Hey, Kristin,” Phil murmurs, before withdrawing himself from the hug. “It’s uh… been a long time, huh?”

Kristin nods, an amused expression on her face. “It has. I’m assuming you need something from me?”

Phil’s cheeks grow warm. “Wha— no. Can’t I just summon you to say hello every now and again?”

Kristin crosses her arms over her chest, lips curled up into a smug smile. “You can, but I know you, Phil. You’re not normally one to summon the Goddess of Death of all people just to engage in small talk. So, what’s going on?”

Phil opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it and instead lets out a defeated sigh. “Okay, to tell you the truth; I’m here to ask for a favour.”

Kristin’s eyebrows raise, and Phil explains his request. Though it’s nothing difficult, it isn’t until Phil mentions the boy, Tommy, that Kristin makes a definitive decision in her mind. Phil talks a lot about Tommy; says he’s a good kid, so Kristin sees no harm in helping him out however she can.

Phil finishes explaining, and Kristin grins. Phil notices a familiar mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tommy doesn’t feel like getting out of bed. It’s far beyond morning, but that detail seems irrelevant when he can’t even find the strength to get up. Tubbo and Ranboo have both checked in periodically, which he is grateful for (though he’d never say that to their faces). Unfortunately, he was unable to find it within himself to hold a conversation with either of them. It’s as if his throat has closed up, and though he can still breathe, he cannot speak.

Then, there’s a knock on his door. It’s gentle, but firm at the same time. It isn’t a Tubbo knock, nor is it a Ranboo knock. He hopes it isn’t Wilbur, so that would really only leave—

“Tommy?”

Phil.

The door slowly opens, and light spills into the room. Tommy doesn’t move.

“Hey, Tom,” Phil murmurs as he steps inside, carefully closing the door behind him. “You feeling alright?”

Physically or mentally?

“Actually— ignore that, that’s a stupid question.” Tommy’s bed dips, and he assumes Phil’s taken a seat. Tommy wants to say something; he really does, but he just can’t.

“Not up for talking, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head miserably, tears pricking his eyes.

“That’s okay.” Phil tangles a gentle hand in Tommy’s hair; the same way he did when Tommy was younger. “I just came around to check in, and see if you were maybe up for going on a little walk.”

Tommy opens his mouth, and a small noise escapes. He swallows and tries again.

“What?” His voice is hoarse, and he winces. Phil barely flinches.

“It’s okay if you’re not feeling up to it, but I thought of something that may cheer you up, even if it’s only a little bit.” Phil exhales shakily. “I just— I hate seeing you like this, Toms. We all do. I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

Tommy slowly meets Phil’s gaze, suddenly feeling so much younger and more vulnerable. In this moment, he feels like a kid; one who hasn’t been through countless wars and suffered severe bouts of trauma.

“…Yeah,” Tommy mutters, moving to sit up with Phil’s help. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way, Dadza.”

Phil smiles. “Grab your stuff; it’ll be a bit of a trek.”

Phil guides Tommy through the forest, where he knows Kristin is waiting. As they approach, he notices her hands are stained blue. Upon noticing the two, Kristin perks up.

“Ah, you’re back!” She steps forward, grinning from ear to ear. “And you must be Tommy! Phil’s told me an awful lot about you.”

Tommy’s expression is unreadable. “Phil,” he murmurs, “what the fuck.”

Phil laughs. “I’m getting to it, mate, don’t worry.” He gestures to Kristin. “This is Kristin. She’s the Goddess of Death, and… a friend of mine.”

Tommy nods, far too enthusiastically for it to be genuine. “Right, so my dad’s just casually making friends with goddesses now, this is completely normal.”

Kristin giggles. Phil rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, Kristin here is a friend of mine, and because you haven’t been feeling one-hundred percent since—” Tommy’s face falls, and Phil quickly changes course “—since what happened, I thought I’d come see if there was anything she could do to help.”

Tommy’s brow furrows, and his gaze drops to his feet. A zombie stumbles towards them, and Tommy takes the opportunity to draw his sword and engage in a battle which ends as quickly as it starts with a smooth and clean slice to the creature’s neck. Though it dies quickly, Tommy looks around, as if seeking more mobs to fight.

He’s stalling.

Phil bites his lip, steps forward, and slides a hand onto Tommy’s shoulder. Though he hesitates, Tommy turns his head, gaze drifting upwards to meet Phil’s eyes.

“You’ll like this, Tommy,” Phil murmurs, “I promise.”

Phil turns, and meets Kristin’s eyes. “Could you—“

“Yep, I’ve got it. C’mere, Tommy.”

Phil steps back, and Kristin beckons to Tommy. When it becomes clear Phil isn’t planning on accompanying him, Tommy approaches slowly, one hand still hovering over the handle of his sword, now sitting snug in its holster.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” Kristin whispers, extending a hand. “You can trust me.”

Tommy reaches out. Their fingers intertwine, and Tommy’s vision is suddenly filled with blue. Beautiful, soft lapis blue. Someone launches themself into his arms, and it’s then he realises Kristin is nowhere to be seen.

“Tommy! It’s been a long time, how are you? I’ve missed you!”

Wilbur’s– no, Ghostbur’s voice breaks through the silence, and Tommy cries.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp oneshot #dsmp oneshot #tommyinnit #philza #dsmp kristin #ghostbur #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

Whispers of Doubt

Summary: Virgil and Janus have been under a lot of stress as of late, and Virgil fears their relationship is at risk.

Relationship(s): Romantic Anxceit

Warning(s): None that I can think of.

Alternate Universe: Human

Notes: This was requested in the TSS Fanworks Collective by @fangirlwriting-stories! They requested, “Do you even still love me?” with Anxceit. The sentence came from a list of dialogue prompts, which can be found here!

[AO3 link]

It had been a rough few days for Virgil and Janus. Their responsibilities had slowly been piling up over time, and the stress was starting to get to them. Most nights, a conversation over dinner would result in a shouting match, and somebody would end up sleeping on the couch, not wanting to be near the other. However, most of the couple’s arguments were about pointless things, so neither of them would really ever hold it against the other. They were both under a lot of stress, and they were aware of that. They weren’t going to let a few minor arguments sever their relationship.

Janus found out the hard way, one late winter night, that all those arguments had indeed had an impact.

“Do you even still love me?”

The question came out of nowhere, Virgil’s quiet voice breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they cuddled in front of the crackling fire.

Janus began running a hand through Virgil’s disheveled hair. “Of course I do, sweetie. What’s brought this up?”

Virgil exhaled shakily, his warm breath tickling Janus’ ear. “You remember that argument we had?” he murmured. “The night after I went to that party with Roman?”

Janus sucked in a breath. He remembered that argument all too well, and in all honesty, he wished he could forget it.

“You said… well, you said if I liked spending time with him so much, I could date him instead, and I guess I just thought—“

Janus shushed Virgil quietly and pressed a kiss on the top of his head, just beside where his hand was still tangled in his hair. “Virgil, you could say you wanted to shove me down a flight of stairs and I would still love you.”

Virgil snorted. “That cannot be where the bar is, J.”

“Well, it is now.” Janus manoeuvred the two of them so he could capture Virgil in a warm embrace. “I love you so much, sweetie. Nothing either of us ever say or do will change that.”

Virgil slowly returned the embrace. “You’re sure?”

Janus chuckled and planted a kiss on Virgil’s nose.

“Just because I’m a master of deception doesn’t mean I can’t be honest. Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.”

And so, when the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, Virgil and Janus were sound asleep in front of the fire that had long since gone out, safe in each-other’s arms. For the first time in a while, the house was peaceful.

From then on, it was going to stay that way. Janus would make sure of it.

#sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #virgil sanders #janus sanders #anxceit #romantic anxceit #alternate universe #human au #swirlz scrawls

[c-swirlz]

A Boring Way to Die

Summary: Lumine and Childe spend an evening at Angel’s Share. There’s an attempted murder and lots of flirting.

Relationship(s): Lumine & Childe, Lumine/Childe (up for interpretation)

Warning(s): Murder attempt, attempted poisoning (I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds)

Notes: What’s this? I’m actually posting a fic after 6+ months of a whole lot of nothing? Never thought I’d see the day.

In all seriousness, apologies specifically to my followers for the radio silence in the fic department. Motivation just kinda died. Also, I should mention this oneshot is based on a dialogue prompt, credit for which goes to Vienna (@see-through-stars), a mod for @writing-ideas-inc, which is where the prompt appears.

AO3 link: Here!

“As soon as I saw you, I knew you would be the one to finally kill me.”

Childe’s cup hits the table with a thunk. He places an elbow on its surface and lays his head on his open palm, lips curling up into a sly smile. Sitting across from him is Lumine, who looks him dead in the eyes with a blank expression and a raised eyebrow. Her cup pulls back short of her lips, though it remains in her hand.

“Huh, and did I meet your expectations?”

Lumine rolls her eyes and places her cup on the table, pushing it away with her fingers. The pair’s eye contact is broken as Lumine glances away, lifting a hand to fidget with her hair. Childe bites back a grin as he notices her lips form a small smile.

“I just thought you would kill me with a bit more flair, poison seems like a boring way to die.”

Childe laughs and reaches across the table to retrieve Lumine’s drink, replacing it with his own. He places Lumine’s cup at the very edge of the table and ‘accidentally’ knocks it over, causing the contents to spill onto the wood floor of Angel’s Share. Lumine’s gaze drifts to the mess, but only for a brief moment as Childe leans back in his seat and catches her attention.

“Alright, alright.” Childe raises his hands in mock surrender. “You got me, girlie. Take me away to the Knights’ headquarters.”

Lumine snorts and picks up Childe’s former drink, lifting it to her nose before lowering it to her lips and taking a sip. “You wish. Jean would actually kill you."

Acting Grand Master Jean is very familiar with Childe’s… antics. He has the sneaking suspicion the only reason he hasn’t yet been thrown into the dungeons is because he’s friends with the Honorary Knight. Though ‘friend’ is a strong word, Childe isn’t about to give the Knights an easy opening to arrest him. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t that stupid.

“So,” Lumine starts, her voice dropping to something only the two of them can hear, “was there really poison in that drink?”

“I don’t think you need me to answer that.”

Lumine’s brow furrows, and Childe scrambles to explain himself as her expression darkens.

“Okay okay hear me out– it was a joke. I knew you’d sense the poison from a mile away.”

“And what if I hadn’t, Childe?”

A small vial appears in Childe’s hand and dances between his fingers. “Relax, I brought an antidote.”

Lumine slams her cup onto the table, drawing several eyes. When they eventually turn away, Lumine buries her face in her hands, muffled laughter rattling her body.

“Archons, Childe,” she says, throwing her hands down onto the table. “You actually had me worried.”

Childe presses a hand to his chest. “The audacity. To think I’d kill the Honorary Knight in such a blatant manner. For your information, if I actually wanted you dead, I would’ve run you through back at the Golden House.”

Lumine isn’t convinced.

“I’m serious!”

Lumine crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. Childe glares at her, though they both know it’s nothing malicious.

“Anyway.” Childe pushes himself back, and the mini-showdown ends. “We never did work out who’s settling the bill.”

“You’re seriously worried about the bill? You tried to kill me!”

“It was all in good fun!”

Lumine sighs and slumps back in her seat. “Only you would consider attempted murder ‘fun’, Childe.”

“All part of the charm, girlie,” Childe responds with a wink.

“That’s it, you’re paying.”

“Wha–”

Lumine stands and shoots Childe a triumphant smirk as she pushes her chair underneath the table.

Childe feels betrayed.

“Oh, and by the way, Diluc’s manning the bar. He switched out with Charles a while ago.”

Childe’s jaw drops. He barely hears Lumine -- the traitor -- leave the tavern through his shock, and as he frantically brainstorms means of escape, Diluc’s gaze lands on him, eyes ablaze.

Yeah, he’s screwed.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #genshin lumine #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chilumi #swirlz scrawls