Slow Burn - Blog Posts

Outertale Blue Spring is named Ether Waltz

🎨 @erineas my beloved 🧡

Eng lyrics : Kingsleigh

" I had no doubt in my mind we would make it far. Now I fear a change, want time to stop. "

🎨 @crim0137 ty so much again, sweetie !! Check their blog, arts and commissions ! ✨

His Absence - One-Shot Fanfiction

Alright, here we go, I’m finally doing it ! A simple and lighthearted one-shot between Sans and Esha to go along with this PERFECT commission by @woolpen 🤎 (themes : loneliness, brotherhood, comfort, change, belonging) 💙 Here ! 💚 Thank you @unnamedcrane, for the proofreading and help ! ✨

I’m testing out my English writing, so sorry in advance if it’s not perfect (I write in French first, then translate, then tweak a bit). But hey, hope you’ll enjoy it ~

Depends on the reviews, I can write a sequel or more one-shots ! Full art ↓

Just a"friendly" hug, don't mind them...

🎨: @mblue-art 🤎

hello!! I was wondering: how does Sans view Esha's physical and/or spiritual beauty?? (i.e the way she carries herself)

Hey there ! 🤎

Physically, Sans adores her curvy and soft figure, perfect for cuddling (whether romantic or platonic). He’s also fascinated by the contrast between their hands (and honestly, so is she). But what captivates him the most are her brown "puppy" eyes : he finds them incredibly expressive and often uses them to decode what she’s hiding or to understand the messages she silently sends him.

(And more secretly… he’s absolutely obsessed with her lips.)

Spiritually, it’s one of the key things she shares with Papyrus : Sans deeply appreciates her authenticity and the way she enjoys life. The smallest things amaze her, almost like she’s constantly rediscovering the beauty of their environment, even though she’s always lived on the surface.

It’s calming and inspiring, someone like her or Papyrus, who genuinely appreciates the little things of life and highlights their uniqueness... A nice counterbalance to his pessimism.

Esha also has that reassuring aura : her gentleness, kindness, and patience are a huge comfort to him when he struggles with anxiety (mostly because of his new life on the surface), traumatic flashes, or nightmares (we know about who and what).

And because she avoid pressuring him to explain exactly what’s wrong (see here), it makes her presence even more soothing.

However, he’s well aware that her mind isn’t all rainbows and glitter. He knows Esha carries the weight of many things (he don't know what yet, but he can tell) and that she fully understands the cruelty of life.

And yet, here she is, smiling, filled with ideas for tomorrow...

I could say more but that answer would be too long hehe ~ !

Oh my, i forgot to ask this

What makes sans fall for her? 👀

Falling for a friend is a headache... Good luck, Sans !

💙 Blue Spring 💚

In Japanese culture, "blue spring" is a poetic metaphor for youth. The word "aoi" means "blue," but it also conveys a sense of immaturity, inexperience, or being unripe. "Haru" means "spring," a season often associated with renewal, growth, and beginnings.

Sans's new life on the surface. New sceneries, new sensations, new people, like Esha. A fresh start.

Together, "blue spring" symbolizes youth as a vibrant yet uncertain time of life. It reflects the intensity, awkwardness, and emotional highs and lows, self-discovery, and facing challenges, but also one filled with limitless possibilities.

This is their ship name !

Thank you so much @erineas for the idea !

Art by @gamgam_glass ♥

💙 Blue Spring 💚

In Japanese culture, "blue spring" is a poetic metaphor for youth. The word "aoi" means "blue," but it also conveys a sense of immaturity, inexperience, or being unripe. "Haru" means "spring," a season often associated with renewal, growth, and beginnings.

Sans's new life on the surface. New sceneries, new sensations, new people, like Esha. A fresh start.

Together, "blue spring" symbolizes youth as a vibrant yet uncertain time of life. It reflects the intensity, awkwardness, and emotional highs and lows, self-discovery, and facing challenges, but also one filled with limitless possibilities.

This is their ship name !

Thank you so much @erineas for the idea !

Art by @gamgam_glass ♥

✨ @sansxyouweek

which ao3 tag are you?

Spiders and Spirits

Chapter 2

Pairing: Chrollo x Fem OC Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Light Angst Chapter Wordcount: 5,267

Aamu journeys to the Continent of Yorbia to study humans, she runs into none other than Chrollo Lucilfer. Is she the Nen exorcist he's been looking for? Is he the monster she's been raised to believe all humans are? Aamu is determined to unravel the mysteries of humanity, but she quickly learns that'll be no easy feat!

Click here for chapter one!

Author's Note: Hihi lovely reader! If you've made it this far holy moly thank you so much. This story starts during greed island arc, while Chrollo is without his Nen. I'm trying to write as accurate of a portrayal of Chrollo as I can, and I'm planning on trying to keep it at least somewhat faithful to the storyline that already exists. As always I hope you enjoy! o7

Alone in the woods at a dingy little camp he had time to think. Time to comb over just how everything went so wrong. Had he grown too confident in his abilities? If he had made sure they killed all of the Kurta clan, Uvogin would still be alive. If he hadn't been so focused on stealing Neon's ability, they would've been able to find the chain user sooner. Before he got captured, before he lost his Nen. Chrollo cursed himself for believing that everybody in the Phantom Troupe would be willing to sacrifice him for the greater cause. He knew how Pakunoda felt, and even that some of the others were less than caring of his rules. Now all he could do was wait and hope that he would stumble upon a Nen exorcist. It was all such a mess. He kept asking himself how exactly it all fell apart so quickly. On the outside he was fronting the same stoic nature, but underneath he felt as though his entire being was beginning to rip apart at the seams.

His thoughts were loud, so loud that he almost missed it. The hair raising on the back of his neck and the paranoid feeling that called him to look over his shoulder. He was being watched. As quickly as the onslaught of anxieties had come, they vanished in an instant as he started to deduce who was watching him. He could tell they were hiding behind the trees to his rear. It was clear whoever was watching him was an amateur. They hadn't even tried to hide their presence in the slightest bit. He made no move to indicate that he knew they were watching him. One wrong move and he could find himself facing a Nen user with his bare fists. That's why he had chosen to hide so far out in the woods in the first place. His list of enemies was rather long and if the chain user spread the word that he couldn't use his Nen anymore, people would surely come looking. Very angry people who wanted him dead. This made the task of finding a Nen exorcist that much harder. He couldn't openly parade around looking for one and let the whole world know that Chrollo Lucilfer leader of the Phantom Troupe was defenseless.

He resolved his worries once more, whoever was behind him was making no move to engage. For all he knew it could be a curious child that wandered too far into the woods. He looked around cautiously, and brought his gaze back to the book he forgot he was holding. It was a comic book: The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners; definitely meant for somebody younger but it held a special place in his heart. Memories of when he was a child dubbing over the animated show of the comic always came back to him when he read it. Some days he found himself wishing he could go back to those times. Before Sarasa disappeared. Before it all really began to go downhill. Deciding it was pointless to sit here and let his stalker watch him fall apart, he stood from the fallen log he had been sitting on. Making his way over to the small tent and grabbing a bandage, he wrapped it around his forehead underneath his black bangs. The tent was more of a tarp suspended on a rope and staked down at the corners so it formed a small triangular shelter for him to sleep under. He couldn't risk somebody recognizing the cross tattooed on his forehead, he stood out enough in the colorful little town with his black long sleeved shirt, black pants, and black shoes. Several miles south was a road that would lead him to a small seaside town. It was full of fishermen and farmers, so it was unlikely he'd find a Nen exorcist among the people. When he passed through there the first time, the villagers talked of their fear of the woods north. It was why he chose to make his camp so far out in them. Thinking maybe his stalker had something to do with those fears, he made he way to the town. Regardless it was something other than his countless mistakes to focus on .

As he walked down the dirt road to the city he thought about the fortune he had received from Neon, the daughter of Nostrade:

The calendar loses a precious component. The remaining months gather to mourn. The mourners play a melody, While the eleventh moon quietly rises.

The chrysanthemum withers and falls, To lie on the ground beside bloody Scarlet Eyes. But you will remain supreme. Even after losing half your limbs.

East is the direction to go. You will find one who awaits you. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow.

It crossed his mind that whoever was watching him earlier in the day could be 'his shadow' that the poem was referring to. The mysterious person followed him up to the road, but stayed out of sight behind the tree line and disappeared as he made his way towards town. It was around noon when he reached the town square, a small market was being held with farmers filling temporary stalls with fresh produce, fishermen with beds of ice displaying their biggest catches, and even jewelers with rings laid out that dazzled in the sunlight. There were a plethora of other stalls set up selling trinkets and whatnot. It was a busy little town, but still a peaceful one. Nearly a complete opposite of Meteor City. He needed dinner but knew any meat would spoil on the walk back to his camp, so he approached a farmer with a slew of vegetables on display. Bright red tomatoes, the longest carrots he'd ever seen, bushy heads of cabbage, anything you would need to make a delicious stew.

“What can I do for ya' son.” Chrollo hid a small smile, even their accents sounded like they belonged in a quaint little town.

“Two carrots, two potatoes, and a tomato, please.” As he had made his way east from York New he was grateful for all the wealth he had accrued over the years. It kept him afloat while he was trying to figure out how he'd get his Nen back.

“There ya' are, have a good one.”

“Say I'm just passing through town, but I heard you guys stay clear of the woods just north. Why is that?”

“Well ya' see those are the lost woods, it's mostly just old folk tales but people have said they've seen strange lights and what not up there,” the older farmer had a drawl to his voice “if you're just passin' by em' don't fret, nothing bigger than a fox is gonna come creeping on ya'.”

“Thank you sir.” People were starting to line up behind him so he paid, grabbed his paper bag of vegetables, and went off to the next stall in search of more information. He spotted a small butcher's stand that was selling broth. As he was cutting across the busy walkway he felt it again. He was being watched. He looked around slowly to his left then right, they must've been behind him again. He decided it was unlikely anybody looking to attack him would follow him to a busy town square, and even if they wanted to they'd be a fool to do so in such a crowded area. He turned around quickly to see who was watching him, but he only caught a glimpse of a brown streak ducking behind a corner. It was now or never to confront this mysterious shadow, so he turned the corner to where they ducked away but there was no sign of them anywhere. Clearly they weren't interested in a confrontation. It relieved him a small bit as this meant they probably weren't here to kill him, but it left him more confused. If not a fight, then what did they want? There was a small chance it could be an admirer of some sorts. It was uncommon but he had heard of people who supported and wished to take after the Phantom Troupe, he'd even heard of some that worshipped them. The thought of that possibility made him wish that they were here to kill him instead. He returned to the butcher's stand selling broth.

“What'll it be for ya',” the butcher had the same quaint accent, but his voice was rougher than the farmers.

“Chicken broth, please.” Chrollo watched as the butcher reached below the counter and brought up a small container of broth.

“500 Jenny.”

Reaching into his pocket for the money, he asked the butcher, “Say I'm from out of town, are the woods up north really haunted?” The butcher chuckled.

“Ain't nothing but foxes and squirrels up there, don't let the wives tales get to your head, boy.” Even though he was nearing his thirties, Chrollo had a boyish face. People often mistook him for being much younger than he really was.

“Thank you sir.” Unfortunately, his search for answers didn't bring up much. On his way out of the town square he noticed a small book store on the corner of the street. One more try for answers couldn't hurt, he needed a new book anyway. The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners was sentimental, but he could only read it so many times and it was getting rather depressing. Perusing the cramped book shelves, he didn't see anything that caught his eye. The store was old and the selection of literature looked even older.

“It was that damn strange woman that's been lurking around town for days! The one that couldn't speak! She took off with at least four books and left me 100 Jenny!” It was hard for Chrollo not to eavesdrop on such a loud conversation in a quiet bookstore.

“You said she couldn't speak? What did she look like?”

“She didn't say a word, and when I asked her for the money she looked at me like I was crazy! I couldn't tell what she looked like because she was hiding under a hooded robe. It was brown and she had glasses with ginger hair but that's all I could see!” The book store owner cried out to the small town cop. Taking note of the brown hooded robe mentioned, it was possible that's what he saw when turned around to see his stalker.

“And when did all this happen?”

“Barely even thirty minutes ago! If you weren't standing here asking me all these questions you might be able to catch that damn thief!” Chrollo decided he'd come back another time to question the bookstore worker. He didn't want to mingle with the police, even if it was just a small town cop there was a chance he would recognize him. It was more than likely his stalker was also the book thief, which meant it was a woman tailing him. Unfortunately, the possibility of his shadow being an admirer was becoming more and more likely. He tried to reason with himself that somebody who wanted to kill him would be worse than a stalker that was looking for a chance. However he was unsuccessful in doing so.

By the time he made it back to his camp the sun was setting. He started a fire and dug a small pot from his tent when he noticed it. The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners was gone. He was going to give this stalker a reason to hate him if he was ever able to confront her. Maybe once he got his Nen back. He wouldn't kill her, he'd just give her a good reason not go through strangers belongings and certainly not steal their copies of The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners. He tried to let it go, but unfortunately he was once again unsuccessful in doing so. Night had fallen and his stew was almost done, when his shadow came to watch him again. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow. The more he thought about his fortune and what he knew of his stalker, the more a picture of just who was watching him formed in his head. Whoever this was probably wasn't literate, if the book store worker was right in her being unable to speak. It made sense she'd take the comic book filled with more pictures than words. Did she live out here in the woods? Probably not. Anybody who spent their life surviving in the woods would know how to hide themselves better. Could she be a victim? Maybe she had escaped human trafficking, but if that were the case why wouldn't she seek out refuge in the town. Was she afraid to? The thought struck a chord somewhere in him, as kidnappings and human trafficking had been a serious issue growing up in Meteor City.

He was lost in thought again when he felt it. She was back. He continued preparing his dinner, deciding she wasn't a threat he needed to worry himself over as she again made no moves to approach. He threw in a potato, two of the carrots, and the tomato. A less keen ear would've missed it, but just as the stew came to finishing simmer the sound of a stomach growl just beyond the light of the fire rang out. He didn't have any extra bowls, only enough for himself. Looking around he saw a cup sitting in his tent. As he was filling it up with stew he proposed a trade with his shadow.

“If you give me my book back you can have some.” He would've offered it regardless, knowing all to well the feeling of famine. But why not try and get his comic book back in the process. He waited a few minutes, and when there was no answer he stood up to put the cup by the edge of the fire light near the direction of where the stomach growl came from. As soon as he got close he heard her scamper further back out of sight. Shortly after returning to his fallen log, he saw a slender hand reach out to grab the cup. A moment later and the same hand put an empty cup back. The ingredients had made more than enough for himself so he went and refilled the cup, but this time he placed it closer to the fire. Again after returning to his seat on the log, she inched out behind a tree. A brown hooded robe, ginger hair, and glasses. In the fire light her face looked thin, and he realized her hand wasn't just slender. It was malnourished. It reminded him of Feitan's frame when he was little. He rested his chin in his hand and watched her down another cup of stew. Instead of retreating to the shadows she stayed on the outer most edge of the fire light where it barely reached her.

“Can you understand what I'm saying?” Chrollo spoke calmly, he didn't want to accidentally scare her off. Whoever she was, she needed help. Although he knew her situation must've been unfortunate, he was rather relieved it wasn't an admirer. She looked at him but gave no indication of understanding what he had said. She got up and walked back into the darkness. He walked over to see where she had gone but stopped when he saw the ground. Paw prints. Big ones too. Was she not human? He knew of mythical beasts that lived in the woods, but again she didn't seem like she had any survival skills that a wood dwelling creature would have. He decided not to follow her, he had a feeling she wouldn't be gone long, and he didn't want to chance threatening her.

It had been a couple hours, and he was about to put the fire out for the night when she returned. She stood at the edge of the fire light holding the copy of The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners out to him. He slowly got up, trying his best to be as non-threatening as possible as he walked over to take it. Up close he could see the left lense of her glasses had a crack in it. Her eyes were a vibrant blue that almost seemed to glow in the low light. Everything else was covered by the hood and the robe.

“What's your name?” He spoke slowly, maybe she could pick out a word or two. She looked frustrated, like she wanted to speak but she couldn't. After a few stuttered noises, she pointed to herself.

“Aamu.”

“Aamu?” He pointed at her and repeated it. She nodded in agreement. “Chrollo.” He said pointing at himself.

“Ku ro ro.” She repeated. Having only said his name, he could tell she wasn't from anywhere around here. It sounded like her tongue wasn't even accustomed to forming those vowels. There wasn't much else he could do for her at the moment. The fire was dying and the moon was high.

“Goodnight, Aamu.” He turned to his tent and replaced his comic book. He looked behind where she had been standing, and she was gone again.

The next morning she appeared as he was making breakfast. He had set a handful of small basic traps around to catch squirrels, rabbits, and other small critters. Being raised near the forest in Meteor City he knew enough basic survival skills, on top of what he had picked up from books, to be able to survive in a harsh environment. The forest was no harsh environment by any means, the people in town were right. Nothing bigger than a fox lived in these woods. Which was strange considering how large and abundant they were. Aamu stood by the tree line again, not hiding but also not approaching. She was apprehensive. He looked down and realized he had forgotten his hands were still covered in blood from skinning the rabbit he had caught. The animal was already chunks of meat floating in the pot of stew he was making. Just a couple hundred feet away was a small river, so he left the pot to boil and washed his hands off. When he came back she had a thick leather bound book in her hands, and she was a few feet closer to the campfire.

“Ku ro ro,” he looked up at her curiously from his seat on the fallen log. She inched over to him from the other side of the campfire. Keeping herself as concealed as possible with her robe still, she held out her book to show him a map spread across two pages. Immediately he recognized Yorbia, Jappon, Azia, and all the other continents he was familiar with, but there were more. She had drawn the map as though the countries he knew sat in the middle of a lake, with more land surrounding it. She pointed to the ground, and then pointed to the center of the map, and tilted her head as if she were asking a question. He interpreted this as asking where they were on the map, so he took the pencil and made a small dot on the middle of the east coast of Yorbia. She motioned for the pencil back, but before giving it up Chrollo pointed at her, and then pointed to the center of the map while mimicking her same head tilt. She turned the book around and made a small mark on it, flipping it back around to show him. She had marked the west coast of the land he didn't recognize.

“Ixtal.” She said while pointing to the mark she had just made.

“Ixtal?” All he could do was repeat what he assumed was the name of her home back to him. He had never heard of any place named Ixtal before, let alone the land on the map she had designated as her home. He rested his hand in his chin, trying to rationalize the entire situation. For the first time he noticed her robe was imprinted with a design of leaves on its seam. This wasn't just any old dirty robe, it looked to be finely made. Wherever she had come from, wherever Ixtal was, it must've been at least a some what developed civilization. That would explain why she was unable to survive in the woods. He was fully convinced now she also wasn't human. That would explain hiding underneath the robe. Why had she come here? All the way to the east coast of Yorbia, it had to be a difficult journey alone for somebody lacking in survival skills. She would've had to cross two oceans and a continent to end up here. She crouched down and began scribbling on a new page in her book. After a minute or two she turned it around to show an incredibly rough sketch of him. Had Chrollo not been himself, he'd have no idea who it was.

“Ku ro ro” She was pointing at a space left above the rough sketch, and motioning for him to take the pencil. Taking the book from her he could only assume she wanted him to write his name above the portrait.

“Chrollo” He tried to correct her pronunciation. He was unsuccessful.

“Ku roro” Close enough. After taking her book back, Aamu reached into her robe and handed him a tomato. Puzzled once more Chrollo could only squint his eyes in confusion as he looked at her. She was staring at him, and when he gave no other reaction to the tomato she scribbled something in her book. Closing it and placing it back inside her robe, she got up to leave. After a few steps she turned around, and raised her hand without moving it. With that Aamu walked off back into the wilderness. He went over to check the tracks she had left behind, and he confirmed once more that they definitely weren't human.

Unsure of how to spend his day, he knew he needed to be searching for a Nen exorcist. However he thought back to his fortune: East is the direction to go. You will find one who awaits you. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow. There was a chance Aamu could be the Nen exorcist he was looking for. It was just a hunch as he hadn't been given any evidence that she even knew what Nen was, but the entire situation surrounding her was so bizarre that if she was a Nen exorcist it would be the most normal thing about it all. He decided he wanted to see how things would unfold with this strange shadow of his, but she didn't show again for the rest of the day.

The next morning, she showed up again at the same time. Just as he was making breakfast. This time she wasn't as hesitant to step towards him, he had remembered to wash his hands promptly after skinning his meal. Still hiding underneath the robe she walked up to where he sat on the log. Book in hand as she offered him a flower. It wasn't anything spectacular, just a small white flower. They littered the forest floor. He took it, once again not understanding what she was trying to communicate. If anything at all. Just as she had done after handing him the tomato, she stared as if expecting a reaction, and when he gave none she began to scribble in her book. She closed the book, crouching down by the log. Fidgeting with the grass she pointed at the campfire where his breakfast was beginning to boil. Chrollo wasn't one to turn away the hungry, but he was curious as to what she had been scribbling in her book. So he filled his only bowl, and offered it to her. As she went to take it he held it back, and pretended like he was writing in the air. It got the message across as Aamu handed her book over without hesitation. He was flipping through the pages as she downed the bowl of squirrel and tomato stew.

The first couple pages looked like a table of contents, after that was the two page spread of the map, followed by a few pages of a language he couldn't read and didn't recognize. He found the portrait of himself and on the page adjacent a small drawing of a tomato with an X next to it and a few lines of the same language. Underneath the tomato was a small drawing of a flower which also had an X next to it again with a few lines of the unrecognizable language. It took him a second, but it began to click in his brain. She was recording his reactions. She was studying him. That's why she was so far away from home, she was more than likely trying to study humans. Putting Aamu's book down he got up and retrieved the comic book from his tent. If she had made the journey this far from home to study them, then she must be smart, and if she was smart then she could learn his language. If he could communicate with her then he wouldn't have to play a game a charades with every interaction. Instead of returning to the log, he crouched down next to her. She was eyeing him cautiously. He opened the comic to the first page and pointed at the words as he read them. He remembered teaching Uvogin how to read, it had been a challenge with him and he already spoke the language. She understood immediately what he was doing, intently watching his finger move across the page. After reading the entire comic book to her, she opened up her journal and began flipping through the pages. That's when he saw something that made him do a double take. It was the next page following his portrait, there was another very roughly drawn sketch of a person. They had a mane of hair, with bushy eyebrows accompanied by even bushier side burns framing a mean face, an incredibly muscular frame with a tank top, shorts, and what he could only imagine was fur on his hips and legs. Uvogin. Chrollo's head was spinning. How? Why? When? He was pouring through every detail in his head, but nothing made sense.

“Who is this?” He pointed at the rough sketch of who he assumed was Uvogin in her journal.

“Oo vo geen” Aamu replied with out any hesitation, confirming his suspicions She handed him the pencil, and pointed at the space above the drawing. He understood what she wanted, and his hand shook a little while he wrote it. Uvogin. All of the anxiety that had plagued Chrollo before Aamu found him came crashing back down on him. Did she have something to do with the chain user? He couldn't make sense of any of it.

“Ku roro,” She pointed towards the tree line as if there was something there, “Oo vo geen.” She stood up and walked over to where she had pointed. All he was could do was stare in a stun locked silence. Aamu looked up, as though she were looking at somebody much taller than her and pointed to where she was looking.

“Oo vo geen.”

Chrollo was now determined to teach her his language as fast as he possibly could. It was the only way he was going to be able to figure any of this out.

They spent the next couple days in the same routine. Aamu would show up when he was making breakfast, Chrollo would either go over the alphabet, the comic book, or general words and introductions. It was difficult to explain what scenarios required which words, so he ended up spending a lot of time drawing in the dirt in an attempt to teach her. Luckily he was right, she was smart and she caught on incredibly fast. Today however he needed to go into town for supplies, and he didn't want Aamu to follow him as there was a chance the police would recognize her. She still hadn't removed her hooded robe, although a few times he had seen soft looking paws stick out from underneath it.

“Kuroro! Hello!” She was excited whenever she greeted him.

“Hello Aamu. I need you to stay here today,” she clearly didn't quite understand what he was saying, “Aamu stay here.” He pointed at her, and then pointed at the ground.

“Staaay, here?” She pointed at herself and then at the ground and back again.

“Yes stay here. I'll come back.”

“Yes! Okay!” As he was leaving she sat on the log going over the comic book.

He was making his way back to the camp when he realized how bad he smelled. That was one of the things he had needed from the town, he forgot to get soap the last time he was there. He took a detour to the river near camp instead of heading straight back. It would be easier than having to tell her to wait again. He was pouring over everything that had happened as he made his way. The most logical explanation for Aamu knowing Uvogin's name and appearance was that it had to be Nen related. Maybe she could see past events? He thought of Neon's ability which allowed her to predict the future. An ability that allowed him to see the past of others could be incredibly useful for him and the Troupe. Did that mean his earlier hypothesis of Aamu being his Nen exorcist was wrong? Or did this mean it was right? Still lost in thought he reached the river and hugged the treeline as he walked, there was a shallow part farther up stream where it would be easier to bathe. The forest was rather dense in some areas, so he didn't see her until he turned to walk down the riverbank to the shallow area. He snapped out of his thoughts as soon as he saw somebody already occupying the place he intended to bathe. Quickly ducking back to the treeline, he was glad that he was a naturally soft stepper as he saw a brown hooded robe hanging from a tree closest to the river.

By no means was he a pervert, Chrollo had always respected the privacy of all the women in the Phantom Troupe. He was a murderer, a thief, a criminal, many things, but never a creep. However he was also an incredibly curious person, and he had the opportunity to see why Aamu had been hiding under the robe this whole time. How could he not take it? Moving with an amount of stealth he rarely ever used, his eyes followed the river bank, to the shallow part, to an undressed Aamu. She was kneeling down in the shallow water with her back to him. Bunny ears the same color as her shoulder length ginger hair. With pale blotches along her shoulders, back, and hips that almost looked like they formed a Rorschach test. Everything below her ginger puff ball tail was covered in the water. She was a rabbit. A human rabbit? Even being as far away as he was, he could still see she how skeletal she looked. He found himself wondering how long she had been starving out here. Fortunately, that was something he accounted for on his supply run and he made sure he got enough food to feed two.

Spiders and Spirits

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chrollo x Fem OC Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Light Angst Chapter Wordcount: 6,092

Aamu journeys to the Continent of Yorbia to study humans, she runs into none other than Chrollo Lucilfer. Is she the Nen exorcist he's been looking for? Is he the monster she's been raised to believe all humans are? Aamu is determined to unravel the mysteries of humanity, but she quickly learns that'll be no easy feat!

Author's Note: Ahhh hello! This is my first attempt at a fanfic but I've been loving every minute of writing it, I already have the second chapter finished. This first chapter is all context and integrating the main character Aamu into the hxh universe (if any of it sounds familiar it's because I borrowed a lot of it from the League of Legends universe). I hope you enjoy! o7

Tens of thousands of years ago in a time now forgotten by all but books, there were humans on the Dark Continent. They were a small population that chose to live under a World Tree where the roots dug into a mountain range. They were dust in the wind compared to the world around them, with short lives and frail bodies they possessed no inherent abilities unlike the other magical beasts. With minuscule lives the other creatures of the world payed them no mind unless they were looking for a snack. That was until the humans learned of Nen, the ability to harness ones life aura and turn it into a powerful tool. This would allow them to rise up on the food chain, becoming more than they were. But it would also be their downfall. The existence of humanity had not been long enough to know of the Titans and the dangers of living off the World Tree. Titans were ancient beings, if one didn't know any better they'd compare them to gods. Remnants of their existence lay scattered through out the land, the swords they wielded lay stuck in the Earth, towering next to mountains.

One day the Titans, larger than the mountains themselves, came to cut down the world tree that humanity resided under and as for what reason nobody could know or understand. Death and destruction lay in the Titan's wake for not even the strongest of Nen users stood a chance against them. Humanity knew that losing the protection of the World Tree would mean they'd go extinct, their population was small and even with Nen there were much stronger beasts out there. In a last ditch act of desperation, a group pooled the entirety of their life aura and exchanged their humanity for the power to defeat the Titans and thus the Vastayashai'rei were born into existence. No longer mortals but not quite gods, the Vastayashai'rei were powerful beings that brought down the Titans and saved humanity from extinction. Once all had settled and returned to normal, rather than rule humanity as its saviors the Vastayashai'rei chose to live among the humans. From their intermingling came the Vastaya, new magical creatures born from humans and the enlightened mortals. Each descendant of the Vastayashai'rei went on to form their own tribe of Vastayans as no two were exactly the same. For a time all was well, humanity thrived with it's newfound Nen abilities and an era of peace reigned. Unfortunately, as a condition of exchanging their humanity for the ability to defeat the Titans, the Vastayashai'rei slowly disappeared over the millenia until they became nothing more than a bedtime story. Where they went nobody knows and if they still exist is just as much a mystery.

Over time a rift grew between the Vastaya and the Humans. Their natures differed too greatly to co exist without their enlightened ancestors, where Humans wished to conquer and grow the Vastaya wanted only what they needed to live. War broke out between the two races. The Vastaya had the advantage, their Nen was different from the Human's, they were not only able to harness their own life force but the life force of the natural world around them. They were connected to the natural world in a way that Humans were not. This caused Humanity to lose the war against the Vastayan people. They were banished and sent to far away lands where their greed could be contained.

“... And so the Vastayans went on to populate the World Tree, with each tribe choosing their own part of the tree to inhabit. The tribes of the sky took to the branches far above, the land walkers stayed near the base on the mountain ranges, and Earth tribes dug into the roots of the tree below.”

“And what happened next?” a small Vastayan child, among a gathering of them, was enamored by the story.

“Well now we live peacefully with each other and the world around us. Taking only what we need to survive and giving back what we can.” A clock struck noon, and with that story time in the library came to an end.

“Bye Miss Aamu!” A handful of the small humanoid children with animal features said goodbyes as they dashed away to find something else that would hold their attentions until supper. Vastayans were only half human, the other half of them being from the Vastayashai'rei, which manifested in the form of animalistic qualities. The tribes of the sky took on the forms of anything with wings from birds to butterflies. The land walkers having it in their name take on any creature you'd find traversing the earth's surface. With the Earth tribes you'd see qualities of moles, rats, spiders, and anything else burrowing underground. Their animal characteristics weren't just for show either, which is why each tribe chose the best part of the tree to inhabit for their respective qualities.

“Miss Aamu?” the same child that asked what happened next was inquiring her again. Inching closer to where she was sitting

“Yes Ymir?”

“Were the humans really real?”

“Yes of course! These stories aren't fiction, our ancestors were really humans.” Ymir's fluffy ears perked up telling she had another question, she was a chatty one. Aamu imagined this is how Ornn, her father, must have felt raising her. An endless stream of questions to every piece of information given.

“Are they still alive?” Ymir was practically crawling onto her lap now.

“Well unfortunately they may have gone extinct by now. After the tribes came together to banish them, that was the last we ever knew of their existence.” She could tell another question was already en route, “Now run along, I have important studies to return to you can ask more questions at tomorrow's reading.” Ymir slumped off her lap and ran off the way the other children had gone.

Aamu spent most of her day in the Royal Library, she was a scholar, intelligent with a never ending desire for knowledge. The stories she read of extinct races, ancient wars, and the history of the world kept her entertained from dawn to dusk. She triple checked the research papers of other scholarly Vastayans, and on rare occasions even traveled to the other tribes in search of more to learn. The last trive she ventured out to was in the uppermost branches of the World Tree. There were tunnels and stair cases carved from the tree's trunk that allowed most to travel between tribes, although few ever did. She had met with the Strig tribe, a lovely group of humanoid butterfly people. They danced and floated in the air in a way that mimicked flower petals, using their wings that shimmered in the sunlight.

There wasn't a book she hadn't at least skimmed through in that library. To her the castle, Ixtal, was home. Having been carved from the World Tree trunk by the humans, it was a gorgeous palace; the entrance was a wide open court yard embedded into the trunk, with decorative flowers hand carved into every pillar. The floors were lined with stone that fit together to form a large star in the center. From there vast hallways split off into different parts of the castle, one went to the library which was open to the public. Everything from floor to ceiling was decorated with a healthy amount of flora and fauna whether it be imprinted as a design or growing directly on it. The library contained most of the information that the land walker tribes had in their possession. Floor after floor of row after row of books, you could find anything you wanted to know in there. This is where Aamu had learned of humans and how Vastayans were descendants of them. Apart from the library there were upper and lower levels of the castle. The upper levels were where Aamu and Avarosa the Seer stayed, the lower levels were for Ornn the Forgemaster. Together the two of them ruled over the land walker tribes, the sky and earth tribes had their own respective leaders.

The leaders of tribes were more closely related to their Vastayashai'rei ancestors. They were stronger, lived longer, and had much less human in their blood lines. Aamu was by no means a leader of any sort, she didn't have more Vastayashai'rei blood than the average Vastayan. Some days she felt like she had more human blood in her than anything else. She had always had trouble getting along with the other kids growing up, that's why she chose to bury herself in her books.

“My child, Aamu...” She woke, a bit startled but awake. “it is late, you should return to your room.” She had fallen asleep in the library face down in a book. Again. The library was dark and quiet, a small gathering of fireflies had found their way in from the open courtyard. Aamu often felt more at peace here at night in the library than her own room.

“Ah Mother, I'm sorry it won't happen again” She gathered her things, a notebook, books, pencils, her glasses, and started for the hallway.

“Is something wrong Aamu?” She really couldn't hide anything from her, she had earned her title of Seer rightfully so. She turned around to face the leader. Avarosa was a sight to behold, she stood twice as tall as any other Vastayan. A long slender form covered in neatly groomed white fur that glittered as if it were covered in star dust, she looked much like a white doe. She was always wearing the same floor length dress that trailed behind her, nothing short of what a Queen would wear. It was white with small pale pastel accents and even smaller moonstone gems sown into the silky fabric. She wore a a veil at all times, it was made of the same white silky fabric. Atop her head was a crown of antlers just as pale and iridescent as her fur. Grand wouldn't even begin to explain her crown of antlers, no words could truly describe her beauty for that matter.

“Mother I'm not like you and father.” she paused as she tried to gather what she wanted to say, “I know I'm not your true heir, but I do wish to live up to your legacy, your name, you've raised me as your own and I want to be great like you one day. Father is unrivaled in his craftsmanship, you are capable of looking into the future, and I-” she paused once more trying to find the words again. “I sit around and read books all day, dreaming of being worth something to the world.”

“Oh my dear child come here,” Avarosa pulled her from the doorway and into her arms. Aamu couldn't help but tear up. “You are right, you aren't born from Ornn and I, but that doesn't mean you aren't capable of incredible things. Look to your books, the scholars who came before you, they will guide you. If you want to change the world do it in your own way. Don't despise what you love because you think it can't be worth something to the world.” Even her voice was queenly, it was soft and easy to listen to. No matter what room she was in, whatever she said echoed ever so slightly. Aamu sat quietly in the embrace for a moment, letting the words of comfort wash over her worries.

“Thank you mother, goodnight I love you.” Aamu pulled away and left for her room.

“I love you too, my little one.”

She had been turning her mothers words over and over again in her head. Avarosa always had a rather vague way of speaking, but it was comforting nonetheless.

---

“Care for some company?” that was an all too familiar voice.

“Why not.” she replied indifferently.

“You've been sulking around for a couple days now. Is everything alright?” If anybody were to notice her sulking of course it would be Wukong.

“I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to be great.”

“How you're going to be great?” He had a high pitched nasally voice, more than likely because of his squished monkey nose. He was quite literally a monkey. Covered head to toe in brown fur, round ears, and a prehensile tail. This of course wasn't anything of a disadvantage for him, he was a skilled fighter. A naturally nimble build and incredibly dangerous when he was using his Nen. Wukong came from the Shimon tribe, a curious group of monkey-faced people who perferred to live in the forest surrounding the World Tree. Known for their love of fruit and mischief, he and Aamu quickly became friends after she had been taken in by the leaders. Where one fibbed the other followed closely behind. A notorious duo that wreaked havoc on whatever poor adults had been left in charge of them.

“Exactly. Avarosa and Ornn both have titles, even you are a prodigy fighter I'm sure one day they'll call you something cool. Like the Monkey King.” Aamu stifled a laugh knowing that was the lamest title she could have possibly come up with and it made him giggle.

“I would be the best Monkey King in all the land!” He jumped up on the table they were sitting at, back flipping into the air and landing on one hand with grace. The bit of armor he was wearing clanged together.

“Quiet down won't you, we're in the library!” She scolded him knowing full well he was going to react the way he did tothe 'Monkey King' title.

“Oh my apologies you're highness.” He put on a posh accent, threw his red scarf back over his shoulder and bowed as he got off the table. They sat in silence for a moment, Aamu's focus had been stolen by a small spirit making its way across the table. They were tiny little things no bigger than half a foot tall that only Aamu could see. They were all white with little blue spirals on their bellies, although they did vary slightly in size and shape.

“You're capable of such fine tuned Nen control that you can slip past even the best of our guards. And all I can do is talk to little spirits nobody else can see.”

“It's cause' you're not a fighter Aamu.”

“But what if I could be then I could do something important, something worthwhile!” She knew it was wishful thinking, she had been considerably more brain than brawn her whole life. It was in her nature as a Vastayan, she was born delicate. With soft skin covered by patches of even softer thin fur, she had paws instead of feet and the legs of a rabbit. She was built to run away from danger, not fight it. Her two large ginger colored rabbit ears had aided her in mischief as a child, as she was capable of hearing the guards walking down the halls before they were of any real concern. But that was as much 'danger' as she had ever really gotten herself into.

“Avarosa isn't a fighter, and of all the leaders she's probably the weakest in Nen strength. But she makes up for it with her Nen being an incredible tool. You should look at your nen as a tool, not a weapon. I'm an enhancer of course I'm going to be a strong fighter.” Wukong made a good point, Aamu was a manipulator. When she learned of her Nen class she had been rather excited and knew immediately what she wanted to do with it. She developed her ability to control the little spirits around her, sometimes they'd even talk to her in just barely audible whispers. When she chose to make the spirits apart of her ability she hadn't really thought about how useful it would be. In all honesty it had never really been that useful at all, the spirits were small and meek. She knew they were made of life aura, being able to see them wasn't apart of her Nen ability but rather something she was born with as a Vastayan. She wasn't entirely sure what the spirits were, whether they were residuals of life aura that were left behind in death or perhaps they existed in the spirit realm unaffected by the material world. For whatever reason, unless she was manipulating them with Nen, she was the only one who could see them. This made it hard to talk about their existence, and to avoid being labeled a crazy person she would tell people she could conjure them. Aamu had tried manipulating the little white wisps in many different ways, she couldn't combine them to make a bigger one but she could manipulate their shape and to a degree their size. The quantity she could control at the same time depended on the amount of Nen she could use. She often recalled a fond memory of flooding Wukong's room with the tiny things, watching as they latched on to his feet making it a struggle to get to the door. Without Aamu's Nen being used on them they had the consistency of fog, but when she pulled them into the physical world they had the consistency of something goopy that solidified when force was applied. If too much force was applied then they would turn back into mist and they'd disappear from both the spirit realm and the material world.

“You like your books so much why don't you try studying something?” Wukong continued as she had been lost in thought again. He could tell she was thinking hard, all he got for a reply was a hum.

“What if I proved humans still existed?”

“I'm sorry what-”

“What if I went to the lands where they had been banished and proved they still existed?”

“Aamu that sounds like a terrible idea,” but he knew it was too late, he saw the spark in her eye and there was no stopping her now.

“And even if they've gone extinct surely they left behind ruins or records. I could find them and study them!” She was ecstatic, “Oh I hope they aren't extinct what if I got to bring one back home and-”

“Wait wait wait! Bring one home? Here? Where they were banished from? Aamu this is absurd.”

“But Wu, what if they've changed. What if they aren't the savage beasts that we depict them as in our history books?” Her heart was ablaze at the prospect of new information.

“Hold on for just a minute! First of all, I wouldn't go placing your bets on a savage beast not being a savage beast. I'm just saying whether our history is accurate or not, there's a reason they were banished. Forever.” He continued on but Aamu didn't hear any of it, she was already working on a plan in her head.

---

“Ornn,” Avarosa's voice rang through the forge with the sound of metal working, “I saw it last night, it is time.”

“It's too soon.” His voice wasn't just deep, it was nearly a growl that just barely escaped his lungs.

“I warned you this day would come and now it is upon us. We can't hold her back.” The only reply Avarosa received was the sound of a hammer continuing its battery of the metal that lay before it.

“Ornn, she is going to leave with or without your approval.”

“I am aware.”

“My love, let us send her out in goodwill. She wishes to find meaning in her life through her studies-”

“I should've never given her those books. They would've been more useful as embers.” Ornn felt guilt for having fed into his daughters craving for knowledge so much. If he had known those books would be the reason she left home, he would've burned the whole library down. But it was too late now.

“We can not keep her safe, but we can prepare her. Give her something to take on her journey, something that will aid her.” Avarosa stepped closer to the forgemaster placing a slender hand gently on his shoulder, the inferno had died down. It was as if the he was connected to the forge itself, the fire within him fueled it. Ornn gave no reply, but after a moment of silence the inferno began to blaze again. She had gotten through to him, now it was time to leave him to his craft.

---

“Mother!” Aamu went bounding down the hall to her mothers room. “Mother I've figured it out!” She burst into the room nearly bouncing off the walls with joy.

“Yes my dearest?” She was sitting on her bed, the room was spacious as she was twice the height of the tallest Vastayans.

“I'm going to study humans! The last we ever knew of them was when they were banished ages ago, nobody has ever kept any record of them since, that would mean I would be the first!” She was smiling ear to ear, a complete flip from the sulky mood she'd been in for the past several days. Avarosa loved seeing the fire in her, she wanted nothing more than to fan the flames.

“That's a wonderful idea, however I'm sure you must know it is terribly dangerous.” As much as she loved to see her daughter full of life, she knew this journey would more than likely be the reason she never saw her again. Her future telling had limits as any Nen ability does. She could only see the future of somebody if they were standing right in front of her, and it wasn't just one future. She saw an endless spectrum of possibilities. Each a little different from the last, some more likely than others.

“Well yes if they haven't gone extinct then it would be dangerous, but maybe-” she had no idea what she was trying to say, of course it would be dangerous. Even if she never made any contact with a human, she would be traveling alone to unknown lands with a worlds worth of sea between her and home.

“Maybe that's what you're looking for,” Avarosa had seen so many futures for her daughter, in every one where she stayed safe and protected in the castle, she was unhappy. “My little one I've known this day would come for years. If this is what you wish then I will aid you in your journey.”

“Thank you, mother” Aamu was tearing up again, “I have to go tell father.”

She knew her father wouldn't be as accepting of the idea of her leaving the castle as her mother had been. He wasn't known for being an open minded individual, he was a strong Vastayan rooted in his ways. She made her way down to the lower levels of the castle where the forge was. The wood became charred the lower she went and before long she stood before two towering iron doors. They were hot to the touch, the inferno in there could only be withstood by one person, Ornn himself. This is where he worked tirelessly, on anything from the powerful tools that boosted ones Nen to the most finely cut precious gems. He was capable of producing indestructible weapons with delicate craftsmanship, there was nothing he couldn't do with a hammer. She knocked on the door, it was about as loud as dropping a couple rocks on the ground. But she heard the metal working from within cease and after a few more moments the doors opened. She nervously hopped inside. She wasn't fearful of her father, he was a gentle man with a kind heart but even after being cooled the heat of his forge was intimidating.

“So father,” she paused asking herself how she was going to even being this conversation. Deciding that beating around the bush would do nothing. “I going to go study humans.”

There was a long pause as he looked up from his workbench where he was tanning leather. He was just as tall as Avarosa, but more than tripled her size in muscle. He was covered in sections of thick black fur, and the skin that wasn't covered was just as dark. He looked as though he himself were an ember in a forge responsible for hellfire. A large black bushy beard adorned his face with equally bushy eyebrows. The only hint that he could see through it all was the firey red glow from his eyes. Atop his head were a set of large black horns, they spiraled out to the sides like that of an overgrown ram. The tip of each horn was crackled with a firey red glow the same as his eyes. Ornn the Forgemaster was truly an intimidating sight to see. The stark contrast between Avarosa and Ornn's appearances made her wonder what the leaders of the other tribes looked like.

“Why is that.” His gruff voice had finally broke the silence.

“Well I want to do something great, something that will change the world,” she waited for a response but knew he was waiting for more of an explanation. “and I'm tired of sitting in these walls and reading books all day.”

“So you want an adventure.” He kept his replies short, he never was one for talking much.

“I want more from life father,” she began to lose her composure. “I see everybody around me doing incredible things and I know it's dangerous but I want to do something too! I can't just live my life complacently with knowing I never tried.”

The only reply she received was a low grumble as he went to continue his work. She knew the conversation was over. Quite frankly it had gone better than she expected, there wasn't an outright no just grumbles of disapporval.

---

“Aamu stop-” Wukong chased after her up the stairs to Ixtal's entrance, “Would you please just listen-” She would not. It had been a week since she told her father she wanted to journey to the human lands. Unknowingly fulfilling Avarosa's prophecy, she decided she was going to leave with or without his permission. Wukong had spent the past week tailing her, desperately trying to convince her this would only end horribly.

“Humans are foul beasts they'll skin you alive for your pelt! They'll hunt you down and eat the meat raw from your bones!” He continued his desperate attempts of dissuading her.

“You don't know that. Nobody knows anything about them.” Aamu only felt more steeled in her convictions. She could prove that humans weren't what the history books portrayed them as. After all Vastayans were partially human, surely they wouldn't be horrible savage beasts with nothing but greed and hate in their hearts. The two reached the top of the stairs and immediately noticed the courtyard was devoid of all life, except for Ornn standing in the center of it.

“Uh- I'm gonna let you uh- handle this.” Wukong disappeared in an instant. Ornn rarely left his forge, and when he did it was for an important reason. To see him standing idly in the middle of the courtyard was enough to intimidate even Aamu. Was he going to stop her? If anybody could it would be him. She tried to calm her nerves as she skittishly walked over to greet her him. Before she could get a word out he kneeled down, still towering over her, he held his hand out and opened it. It looked like he was holding a child's toy in his massive calloused hands. It was a thin wand made of pale wood with silver plating along its handle. It came to a fine tipped point and on the other end a beauitful ultramarine gemstone was embedded into the silver surrounding it. A Tear of the Goddess gemstone. These were incredibly rare gems, known to be protective talismans, it was believed that any who possessed one would be blessed with good fortune for as long as they had it. Along the silver handle was an inscription Aamu recognized to be Divine Script. It was a type of inscription that would boost a user's Nen ability considerably. There were a handful of people in the entire world that were capable of producing it as it required an unimaginable amount of Nen and precise attention to detail.

“You are my daughter. I'd give anything to protect you from the horrors of this world. This will help you in your studies. You won't be invincible, but should danger show this will help you escape.” Aamu was at a loss for words, and after a moment of silence took the wand from her father's hand.

“Thank you father, I-” She didn't know what to say, or if there even was anything to say.

“Promise me you'll come home one day.”

“I promise.” She jumped up to hug him, tears forming in her eyes.

---

She began to prepare for her journey and in less than a week she was ready to go. Aamu wanted to strike while the iron was hot, fearing that Wukong's tales of what humans were capable of would waver her confidence. Of all the survival guides she had read, traveling light seemed to be the best option. Being weighed down by unnecessary things could be a death sentence. Regardless of what the books said she would be unable to bring much with her save for the wand, her book, and the clothes on her back. All she had left to do was say her goodbyes. Making her way down the halls, she meandered through the castle. It would be a long while before she ever saw this place again. Upon reaching the courtyard her best friend sat cross legged waiting for her.

“So you're really leaving.” Wukong had never sounded this defeated before, Aamu wondered if he had ever failed to do anything. Maybe being unable to convince her not to go was the first time he was incapable of doing something.

“Don't be so sullen, you know I do plan on coming back. No point in my studies if I never come back to share what I've learned.”

“Aamu promise me you'll stay away from anything dangerous.” Wukong wasn't concerned on whether she had plans to come home or not, he was worried she would die out there. He knew she wasn't a fighter, in his eyes she was fragile and delicate like a flower in spring. There had been several times in their child hood he fought off anything looking to cause harm to her. A snake in the grass, a bully on the playground, even another mythical beast after they ventured a bit too far from the World Tree.

“I promise Wu, I'll stay safe out there,” she grabbed the wand that was tied to her hip. “Look at what father made for me! It has a Tear of the Goddess and Divine Script on it.” It was truly a testament to Ornn's craftsmanship, and it only took him a week to produce.

“Aamu I-” he paused, he knew what he wanted to say but was unsure if it was the right words, “If you don't come home, I'm gonna come find you.” This made her giggle, and a weight set in on his heart. Would this be the last time he heard that sound?

Aamu was in her room rereading as many wilderness survival guides as she could. There was one book in the entire library that had information about the nature of humans. Although the accuracy of said information was questionable, it was at least a start. It said that humans were fond of gifts, especially gifts of food or anything shiny. They were social creatures that lived in packs and relied heavily on hierarchy to maintain peace among themselves. Much like Vastayans strong humans lead the weaker ones, however the stronger humans were much more likely to be aggressive. She had quickly realized that there would be a language barrier, there was no record of any language the humans spoke. All Aamu could find was that they were capable of speaking many different languages. She decided the first step in her study would be to learn their language through observation. Not wanting to place her hope in a human wanting to teach her the language. A small knock on her doorway pulled her from her thoughts.

“My little one, the Waystone is ready,” The Waystone was how Aamu was going to be getting to the human lands, and the reason why she couldn't bring much. It was incredibly difficult to even send one person through, and the more she carried with her the more likely the Waystone would fail. They were originally built by humans to travel far distances quickly and safely. They were also what the Vastayans used to banish them. A select few warriors were sent through the Waystones to destroy the ones that would bring anybody back to Ixtal. Now all but one remained, it was used on special occasions when a Vastayan would commit a crime so vile, they would be banished to join their savage counter parts. It didn't happen often, but it wasn't unheard of in a lifetime.

Aamu gathered her things, really it was just the book and the wand. She was dressed in her best survival gear. It unfortunately wasn't much of survival gear at all, she had never been a fighter or a survivalist. But in the short amount of time she prepared, she was able to find leather guards that covered her ankles to her thighs. A thicker white fur coat, with a white sleeveless wool knit turtleneck underneath. The leather guards came to about her mid thigh, so she opted for a pair of pale blue shorts woven from a breathable fabric. She wasn't sure if the Waystone would drop her in a hot or cold climate so she needed to be dressed for both of them. She knew she would stick out like a sore thumb near humans, she needed a way to hide her rabbit features. She had long ginger colored ears, a puff ball tail the same color, and rabbit feet. Throwing a brown floor length hooded robe over her head, it wasn't perfect it would make due. Making her way to the door where her mother stood, she grabbed her glasses and walked out.

The Waystone resided in Ornn's forge, it had taken him a full day of work to get it running again. The technology was lost with the humans, but he knew how to operate it. On the floor was a stone circle with gems embedded into the outer ring. Three stone pillars came up to meet in the center of the circle creating an archway. Where the pillars met a large gem covered in Divine Script sat on top of it. Only somebody with an immense amount of life aura could activate the device, as the gems had to be overflowing with imbued Nen. Aamu stepped into the center of the stone circle and turned to face her parents. This was the last time she would see them, hopefully not forever.

“Aamu, take this with you,” Avarosa held out a ring, it was a polished silver band set with a shimmery opal surrounded by smaller white diamonds. It was stunning and looked priceless to say the least. “Humans take nicely to shiny gifts, save this one for a special human.”

“Thank you mother,” She looked to her parents, she could feel the tears beginning to swell. “I love you, both of you. I promise I'll come back one day.” She looked to her father who was waiting for her to give him the word to send her off. She nodded at him with tears streaming down her plump cheeks. With that the gems in the Waystone began to glow one by one as Nen flowed through them. The last thing she heard was her parents wishing her safe travels as a flash of blinding light filled her vision. By the time the two leaders eyes had readjusted, their daughter was long gone. Avarosa stood unwavering, staring at the now empty Waystone. A deep breath followed by a tear streaking her high cheek bone. Ornn turned to his workbench, and with the stature of a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he picked up his hammer to continue his work.

When I'm not thinking about slow burn shit between characters that should be together, I'm thinking about the slow burn between my ideal version of myself and a character that deserved better

tag your results!

it should be illegal to tag anything under 20k “slow burn” like no, that’s just a burn

Chapter One: Week One  Fandom: The Last of Us (TV), The Last of Us (Video Games) 

It’s Joel’s fourth year in Jackson. When Tommy asks if he can help out a new arrival in need of housing, he’s understandably reluctant to share his and Ellie’s space with a stranger. And then he meets Kate.

She’s funny. She’s smart. She’s beautiful.

And she’s about to be Joel’s problem for the entire summer.

Second chapter of Philinda stuffs out now!!

Philinda stuffs

PHILINDAISY TIME

Super slow burn because neither of them know about it until the second half.

Through Sea Mist and Shadows — Bucky Barnes x Reader — Masterlist

after many years away, you return back to the small family farm that was once considered your home. nestled above the cliff-sides of a remote Maine island, sea mist cresting at its edges, you find that things are far different now. your family bears you sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and you yourself have changed beyond your own recognition over the years.

a story about returning to your roots and finding yourself where you least expected it; in the arms of an old friend.

started: 5/2/23 rewrite: 5/22/25

status: ONGOING! IN THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN!

warnings: mature readers only! 18+, discussions of mental illness and emotional trauma, death of a loved-one, suggestive, no use of (Y/N), cursing but come on now, we're all adults, I do include vague descriptions and interactions with readers' parents for plot points

CHAPTERS

prologue

one

two

Through Sea Mist and Shadows — Bucky Barnes x Reader — Masterlist

after many years away, you return back to the small family farm that was once considered your home. nestled above the cliff-sides of a remote Maine island, sea mist cresting at its edges, you find that things are far different now. your family bears you sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and you yourself have changed beyond your own recognition over the years.

a story about returning to your roots and finding yourself where you least expected it; in the arms of an old friend.

started: 5/2/23 rewrite: 5/22/25

status: ONGOING! IN THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN!

warnings: mature readers only! 18+, discussions of mental illness and emotional trauma, death of a loved-one, suggestive, no use of (Y/N), cursing but come on now, we're all adults, I do include vague descriptions and interactions with readers' parents for plot points

CHAPTERS

prologue

one

two

Valentine Fehr Relationship Headcannons!

Parings: Valentine "Val" Fehr x Reader (A.K.A, you), Reader is gender-neutral!

Warnings: Nothing really! One mention of scars, and some cursing. Also a bit longer than I thought it would be. Notes: Reader is eccentric and a bit pushy, Val is a nervous wreck. Shitty and (probably) repetitive writing, Strangers to friends to crush to loverrrrsss! This is the first part, so this includes your first meeting and your friendship stage! (With a hint of growing romantic feelings towards the end...)

((Heyyy artist/writer here! Finally decided to do this because I've been wanting to for a while sooo.. I hope you enjoy! And there will be a seconded part!

This is also my first time writing something like this, so please excuse how shitty this might be.))

-For your first meeting, you would probably meet them through a mutual friend of theirs. (Also just a note, they would be wearing their mask when you first meet.)

-VERY nervous and quiet the first time you meet them.

-Like stuttering and freezing up nervous.

-Also, your friend probably does have to specify that Val's gender neutral/unlabled. They do look very confusing with their short hair.

-After a few hours of being around you though they start to loosen up a bit. (This does depend on how comfortable they are.)

-They become less nervous and more talkative.

-Although, they don't completely open up. They seem to just listen to you and your friend more than anything.

-Once you notice them just staring at you while you talk, you decide to ask them a question instead.

"Soooo.. Val.. You have any hobbies?" Val blinks at you, caught off guard at the sudden question. They sigh, shifting in their seat. "A-Ah.. Ja.. I-" They pause, thinking to themselves. "I-I like to draw."

-Most questions they got asked they would either ignore, or shift the focus away from them.

-They aren't trying to intentionally be or seem rude by doing this though.

-Since they have a strong accent, and since English isn't their first language, some things they say aren't exactly coherent or pronounced correctly.

-That's one reason why they stutter so much actually.

-So there's probably a few times where you would have to ask them to repeat themselves.

-Whatever you're doing, you notice the scars on their hands and arms, which keeps you wondering about them...

-Val would definitely have to leave early for some reason. Most likely because they're too tired, or surprisingly, have other things to do.

-So right as they start to leave, you decide to give them your number!

-This baffles Val. But in a good way.

"Hey, Val!" You call out to them as they start to pull their jacket back on. They turn to look over at you, an eyebrow raised. "Hmm?" They hum, rolling up their sleeves as you pull out their phone and hold it out in front of them suddenly, making them flinch slightly. "Wha-" "Do you mind putting your number in my phone? I wouldn't mind having a one-on-one hangout with you!" You smile at them, continuing to hold your phone in front of them. They stare at you for a moment before hesitantly taking your phone.

-It takes them a minute, but they eventually get their number and name in.

-Now you have them in your phone, which they put themselves as:

"Valentine Fehr"

-Butttt...

-You decide to change their name to something you liked more:

"Val🌌🪐"

-You had seen a lot of their tattoos, which had lots of stars, so you added some space emojis for a theme.

-Once you guys become better friends, which I would say would take a few months, Val started to open up bit by bit.

-Still very self conscious about what they would say or tell you though, still doesn't want to fuck up miss an opportunity to have a really good friend.

-Around this time you would finally get to know that they work in the military, which explains why sometimes they wouldn't be home for days, even weeks, at a time.

-They probably missed a few important things you might have planned out...

"I'm so so so so so sorry I missed it.. W-We can always g-go see another movie.. right? I mean I-I could even pay for everything!" They continue to apologize, even though you understood why they missed it. "It's alright, really-" "I wish I could have been here, damn it, I thought I was gonna be-" "Be quiet, you're fineee!"

-Apologizes for every little thing.

-You would have to explain to them that they're fine. multiple times.

-Here's something you had to figure out: Val's a paranoid, nervous, person. So them overthinking things and worrying is not uncommon for them.

-Plus they're a people pleaser..

-But once you do eventually get to have a hang out with them, you actually have really good time with them!

-Has a great since of humor!

-But is also very weak to jokes- (One's that they understand, at least.)

-You now have a lot of rocks/crystals and small vintage trinkets from them since that you're friends with them now. They enjoy seeing you so happy when you get small things like that.

-And YOU like seeing them get really excited when you give them little things they enjoy. Especially if they collect whatever you give them.

-Rants a LOT about things. Usually half way through whatever they're ranting about they'll stop so they don't bore you. even though you actually aren't bored at all, you like seeing them get so excited about things. since those REAL emotions, or any non-faked emotion at all, is almost rare coming from val.

-Also would teach you some German, ONLY if you wanted or asked.

-You would have to drag them to places sometimes if you wanted to to do something with them..

"There's gonna be to many people.. I don't wanna go.." "You promised me." "I-I know but-" "Come on Val, let's goooo!" "W-Wait-"

-Anti-Social. That's one way to explain them.

-At some point, you would ask about their mask, it's bound to come up one day anyway.

-Don't feel bad when you ask though, anyone would be intrigued when someone NEVER takes off a mask.

-They explain it very vaguely, something along the lines of 'it just makes me feel more comfortable.' Then it wasn't brought up again.

-That day you had planned to stay at their house and say for a while, play some games, watch a movie, ect ect.

-But while you were watching the movie you two had picked out together, you fell asleep on their shoulder.

-Once Val notices you fell asleep, which would be almost immediately once they noticed you stopped moving a lot, they try not to breath much or move.

-It's very sweet, they don't wanna wake you up.

-A while later they notice something...

-They liked being close to you.

It’s always nerve-wracking submitting writing for review, especially with the understanding that not every book is for everyone. Not to mention, some of my favorite books I didn’t finish the first time I picked them up. So yeah, reviews are very subjective.

So when I got my first critic review last week for Color of a Mirror from Kirkus Reviews, I was prepared for it to be some mixture of bad and good—and hoping for more of the latter. I’m so stoked to say that their final verdict was “Get It,” even going to on to call this unusual noir sci-fi story “Intricate, next-generation cyberpunk with a head-spinning finale.”

Just wow. Talk about head-spinning.

•

A little about the book for those of you who may be new to this project: it centers around a cybernetically-enhanced musician who just wants to be a rockstar—which is apparently too much to ask. When one of her songs is used as the soundtrack to a viral homicide, she’s catapulted into the spotlight, only not like she’d imagined. Instead of following an action-heavy plot, the story is more focused on the interior dilemmas and relationships of the characters, as they strive to make it in a world that will crush them without a second thought.

•

Check out the full Kirkus Review for a really good, spoiler-free write-up.

Sample the original soundtrack on Spotify and other major platforms.

And if all this makes you think you’d like to read the book, drop by my site here.

“The Lesser of Two Wars” Pt.1

Commander Fox x Senator Reader x Commander Thorn

Summary: The senator becomes the quiet obsession of two elite commanders, sparking a slow-burn love triangle beneath the surface of duty and politics.

If anyone ever asked, you’d tell them you became a Senator by accident.

You weren’t born with a silver tongue or bred in the soft halls of Coruscant. No. You earned your seat by scraping your way up through the mess of planetary diplomacy, one bitter compromise at a time. And somehow—against your better judgment—you’d gotten good at it.

Politics were war without blasters.

And most days, you’d rather take a shot to the chest than attend another committee meeting.

Still, here you were—draped in crimson silks, shoulders squared like armor, and face carved into the perfect expression of interest. The Senate roared with debate. Systems cried for resources. Sycophants whispered and bartered behind you. But your voice—when you chose to use it—cut through like a vibroblade. That’s what made you dangerous.

Padmé once told you that change was a quiet thing, made in corridors and council rooms, not just battlefields. You told her it felt more like drowning slowly in bureaucracy. She just smiled like she knew a secret you didn’t.

The Senate was a performance.

A stage lined with robes instead of armor, filled with actors who knew how to posture but not how to listen.

You hated it.

And yet, you were one of its stars—elected against the odds, sharp-tongued, unrelenting, and quietly feared by those who underestimated you. You never pretended to like the political game. You just played it better than most.

Still, days like this tested your patience. The emergency session dragged past the second hour, voices rising, layered with false concern and masked self-interest. You didn’t roll your eyes—but it was a near thing.

“Senator,” came the calm voice of a nearby aide. “Security detail has arrived to sweep the outer hall. Commander Fox, Commander Thorn.”

You turned your head slightly as the two men entered the chamber.

Fox came first.

Red armor, regulation-sharp posture, unreadable expression. His presence was quiet but absolute, a man built for control. He walked with measured steps, every movement efficient. You watched him briefly—no longer than anyone else in the room—and noted how his gaze swept the perimeter with military precision.

He didn’t look at you. Not directly. Not for more than a second.

But you noticed the exact moment he registered you.

His shoulders didn’t shift. His mouth didn’t twitch. Nothing gave him away.

But you were good at reading people. And Fox? He was good at not being read.

Thorn followed.

Equally sharp, but louder in presence. His armor bore the polished gleam of someone who took pride in every inch of presentation. He offered a crisp nod to the aides and exchanged a brief, professional word with Senator Organa.

His eyes passed over you once. No pause. No flicker. But the angle of his head adjusted half a degree your way when he moved to stand by the chamber doors. Like he’d marked your position—nothing more.

Professional. Respectful. Untouched.

You exhaled slowly and turned back to your datapad.

Two Commanders. Two versions of unshakable.

You’d been warned of their reputations, of course. Fox, the stoic hammer of Coruscant. Thorn, the bold shield. Both deeply loyal to the Guard. Both rarely assigned together. Their presence meant the Senate was bracing for tension—possibly violence.

You liked them already.

Not because they were charming. Not because they were handsome—though they were, infuriatingly so.

But because they didn’t stare. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t approach with the practiced familiarity of most men who wanted something from a Senator.

No, they were disciplined. Detached.

And that, somehow, made them more dangerous than the rest.

⸻

Later, as the session adjourned and conversation bled into the marble corridors, you passed by them on your way to the lift.

Fox gave a slight incline of his head. Barely a greeting.

Thorn stood perfectly still, gaze straight ahead.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t speak.

But as the lift doors closed behind you, you felt it in your chest—that faint, inexplicable tightness. The kind that warned you of a fight you hadn’t seen coming.

And would never be able to vote your way out of.

⸻

The reception was loud.

Not in volume—but in elegance. Every glass clink, every diplomatic smile, every strategically placed compliment. That was how politicians shouted: with opulence, posture, and carefully crafted subtext.

You stood among it all, still in your robes from earlier, the deep crimson of your sleeves catching the soft amber light of the chandeliers. Surrounding you were names that made the galaxy shiver: Organa, Amidala, Mothma, Chuchi. Allies. Friends. Survivors.

You sipped something you didn’t like and watched the room, bored.

“Twice in one day?” Mon Mothma leaned in gently. “You deserve a medal.”

“Or a decent drink,” you muttered.

Padmé snorted into her glass.

You gave them a smile—small, real—and let your eyes drift.

And there they were. Again.

Commander Fox stood posted by the far archway.

Commander Thorn lingered near the entry steps. Both in armor. Both on duty. Both immaculately indifferent to the golden reception unfolding around them.

You could’ve ignored them.

You should’ve.

But after a half-hour of polite conversation and nothing to sink your teeth into, the idea of a genuine challenge was too appealing to resist.

You slipped away from your group, threading through gowns and murmurs. Your steps were casual but deliberate.

Thorn noticed first. You caught the faint movement of his helmet tilting. Then, quickly and without announcement, you redirected toward Fox.

He didn’t flinch. Not when you stopped a polite distance from him. Not when you met his visor directly. Not even when you tilted your head and offered the first word.

“You know,” you said mildly, “you’re very good at pretending I’m not standing here.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “I’m on duty, Senator.”

You gave him a slow nod. “So you are. Must be terribly dull work, watching senators pretend they aren’t scheming.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Really?” You leaned in slightly. “What’s worse than watching politicians drink for four hours straight?”

He didn’t answer. But there was a pause—a longer one than regulation probably allowed.

Then finally: “This isn’t the place for conversation.”

“Neither was the Senate floor,” you replied, tone still light. “But you seemed comfortable enough ignoring me there, too.”

At that, something shifted. Barely.

His stance remained rigid. But there was a tightness in his voice now. Controlled tension.

“I don’t make it a habit to engage senators unnecessarily.”

You smiled. Not smug—genuinely amused.

“Don’t worry, Commander. I’m not here to engage you unnecessarily. I just wanted to see if you had a voice beneath all that silence.”

Another pause.

Then, quietly, like it had to be pried loose from steel:

“You’ve heard it now.”

And with that, he returned his gaze forward, unreadable once again.

You lingered a second longer than appropriate. Then turned, walking back to the crowd without looking over your shoulder.

Across the room, Thorn watched the entire exchange.

Didn’t move. Didn’t comment. But his gaze followed you as you rejoined your peers.

Unlike Fox, Thorn had no need for stillness. His restraint was a choice.

And he’d just decided not to intervene.

Not yet.

⸻

You hated how the armor caught the light.

Crimson and white, clean-cut, unblemished—too perfect. Commander Thorn didn’t just wear his armor; he carried it like a statement. Like confidence forged in durasteel.

He stood near one of the tall reception windows now, half-shadowed by draping silk and flickering light. Unlike Fox, who radiated stillness, Thorn watched everything in motion. His gaze tracked movement like a soldier born for the battlefield—alert, calculating, assessing.

But not unkind.

You’d caught his eye earlier during your exchange with Fox. He hadn’t interfered. Hadn’t so much as shifted his weight. But you saw the way he watched you walk away.

And now, with your patience for schmoozing officially dead, you veered toward him with no hesitation.

He acknowledged you before you spoke. A small nod. That alone told you he was already more accommodating than his brother-in-arms.

“Senator,” he said. Not cold. Not warm. Polite. Neutral.

“Commander Thorn,” you echoed, coming to a stop beside him. “You look like you’ve spent the last hour resisting the urge to roll your eyes.”

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Discipline.”

“Right,” you said dryly. “That thing I’m told I lack.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure. You made it through three conversations with Senator Ask Aak without drawing a weapon.”

“That is discipline,” you murmured, half to yourself.

Thorn’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was something in the tilt of his head, the faint ease in his shoulders. He wasn’t as closed-off as Fox, but still impossibly hard to read. He didn’t lean in. Didn’t flirt. But he listened. Sharply.

“You don’t like these events,” he said plainly.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m shocked it’s that obvious.”

“You’ve looked at the clock seven times.”

You smirked. “Maybe I was counting the seconds until someone interesting finally spoke to me.”

He said nothing to that—no flustered denial, no cocky retort. Just the same steady, unreadable look. But his fingers tapped once—just once—against the side of his thigh.

Interesting.

“I take it you don’t like politicians,” you added.

“I’m a Coruscant Guard, Senator. I don’t get the luxury of liking or disliking.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He turned his head slightly, visor reflecting soft gold.

“It’s the only one I’m giving you. For now.”

You were about to press that—to tease it open, to see if there was a warmer man behind the armor—but fate, cruel and punctual, had other plans.

“Senator!” came a voice from behind you. Shrill. Forced.

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Senator Orn Free Taa. Slime.

Thorn’s posture straightened by the inch. You fought the urge to groan.

“Senator,” you greeted coolly, turning.

“I must speak with you about your position on the Sevarcos embargo. It’s urgent.” He smiled like a Hutt—greasy and too wide. “We can’t keep putting blind faith in the neutrality of mining guilds.”

You glanced at Thorn once more. He didn’t move. But the angle of his helmet, ever so subtle, told you he was still watching.

You gave him a single step back. The silent kind of goodbye.

He didn’t stop you. But his voice, soft and unhurried, followed you as you turned.

“Be careful, Senator. You look like you’re about to say what you really think.”

You smirked.

“Don’t worry, Commander. I’ve survived worse than honesty.”

⸻

“By the stars,” you hissed as the door closed behind you, muffling the tail end of the diplomatic reception, “I’m going to strangle Taa with his own headtails.”

Mon Mothma, lounging with practiced poise on your office settee, didn’t even flinch. “That’s the third time you’ve threatened to kill a fellow senator this month.”

“It’s not a threat if I have plans.” You flung your datapad onto the desk and tore off your formal sash like it personally offended you. “He cornered me twice. Once about mining guilds, and once about ‘strengthening our bipartisan bond,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Mon hummed, sipping something chilled. “You’re too good at your job. That’s the problem.”

You collapsed beside her, robe twisted at the collar and hair loosening from its earlier neatness. “I swear, if I get one more leering invitation to a strategy meeting over dinner—”

“You’ll start accepting them and sabotaging their food.”

You sighed deeply. “Tempting.”

The soft clink of glass was the only reply for a moment. It was late now. The reception had dwindled, but your irritation hadn’t. The pressure. The performance. The underhanded proposals thinly veiled behind political niceties. You hated it. Hated the hypocrisy. Hated that you had to smile while enduring it.

“I just—” you started again, quieter now. “I didn’t sign up for this to climb power ladders. I wanted to help. Not play diplomat dress-up while watching bills get butchered by people who care more about their name than the outcome.”

Mon glanced sideways at you, ever the picture of composed empathy. “And yet, you still manage to do good.”

You scoffed but said nothing more. Your throat felt tight in that old, familiar way. Not tears. Just frustration. A weight you couldn’t always name.

A polite knock cut the quiet.

You blinked, sat straighter. Mon rose, brushing down her dress with a grace you could never quite copy.

“Enter,” you called, standing as the door slid open.

Commander Fox stepped in.

Of course.

His armor gleamed despite the late hour. Hands clasped behind his back, posture impeccable, expression unreadable as always. A faint shimmer of exhaustion touched the edges of his movements, but it never cracked the facade.

“Apologies for the interruption, Senator,” he said, voice even, “but I’m required to confirm your quarters have been secured following the reception.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re personally doing room checks now, Commander?”

“Protocol,” he said simply. “A precaution. There’s been increased chatter about potential targeting of senators affiliated with the Trade Route Oversight.”

You and Mon exchanged a look.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” she said lightly, already stepping out. “Try not to threaten him with silverware.”

The door hissed shut behind her.

You turned to Fox, arms crossing loosely over your chest. “You weren’t stationed here earlier. Thorn had this wing.”

“He was reassigned.”

“How convenient,” you murmured, studying him.

Fox didn’t blink.

You sighed. “Well? Do you need me to stand still while you sweep for bombs? Or is this the part where you sternly lecture me about walking away from my escort earlier?”

To your surprise, there was the slightest pause. A fraction of a beat too long.

“…You’re not as unreadable as you think,” you added, gaze narrowing. “You listen like you’re memorizing every word.”

“I am.”

That surprised you. Just a little.

“But not,” he continued, “because I intend to use any of it. Only because I’ve learned the most dangerous people in the galaxy are the ones everyone else stops listening to.”

Your arms dropped to your sides.

For once, you didn’t have a clever reply. Just a pulse that thudded too loud in the quiet.

Fox stepped past you, eyes scanning the perimeter of the room. His tone was quieter when he spoke again.

“You don’t need to pretend you’re unaffected. Not with me. But you do need to be careful, Senator. You’re surrounded by predators—”

You turned slightly. “And what are you?”

He looked at you then. Finally. Even through the helmet, it felt like impact.

“Trained,” he said.

Then he stepped back toward the door.

“Your quarters are secure. Good night, Senator.”

And just like that, he was gone.

You stood in the silence, heart still. Breath caught somewhere too deep in your chest.

Too good to show interest.

But stars, did he listen.

⸻

Next Chapter

Chapter 1 and 2 are available to read on my A03 account

Page Bawlers [COD Writer & Boxing AU] Chapter 1

》AO3《 | 》SquidgeWorld《 | 》Tumblr (you're here)《

➵Sticky note: you need to sign in to AO3 to read the fic due to preventing AI bots & AI scalpers stealing/Using my fanfics with permission for unlocked version go to SquidgeWorld

The sound of clacking metal weights and equipment wasn’t something that he expect from his personal trainer and father-figure as an ideal place for him to train. Gyms aren’t really his strong suit especially when he have to charge into his workout clothes within the locker rooms. making sure that his black surgical face mask was intact to his face still fearing it might slip off from it’s resting place.

The mask server a purpose to hide and protective his identify to these who want to harm him and these closest to him. Along with hiding the scars on his face both old and new. Layers and layers of them spread all over their body long before their career as a boxer even. Simon better know as Ghost in the ring was no stranger to physical injuries and the instinct to fight for their life even if it meant stepping on death’s door step. He was extremely luckily that the locker room is empty at this hour, knowing that the gyms are quieter and less coward until 0700 hour mark.

He start to get himself ready, switching out his normal everyday clothes to his workout and training clothes. Placing them neatly in his duffel bag while taking out and setting his training gloves on the bench. After finishing getting dressed he places his bag in the locker locking the door with his own personal lock he bring from his flat. He doesn’t trust the gym’s handout locks due to their lack of strength. and wasn’t his idea to train in an public setting, but both Price and Gaz reassure him that there’s nothing to worry about since the gym is run by Alex, Hadir, and Farah who are old friends of his. That give them free range on their boxing area for exchange for some of his cash winnings to help keep the youth boxing program up and running for the children who come in distress from whatever life throw at them.

Ghost hold no objection or complains toward the deal, in fact he seen relieve that some of his earning go towards something positive. Giving a soft warm smile underneath his black-colored skull balaclava that hid it well. To prevent the others to see his facial expression, that give him a warm feeling that he can’t describe felt for very long time. It’s been almost a week since his last boxing match in the ring, and these past few days been nothing more than workouts and training to improvement and sharpened his skills. Thanks to Gaz who was insisted that he should be the one to handle his regimen inside and outside the gym with the help of Price of course.

Double checking he have everything he needed for this early morning training session, Ghost make his way out of the locker room and letting the door slam shut behind him. To make his way to the training area, seeing Price and Farah engaging in a deep conversation with each other like two high school students in the courtyard.

The coach was wearing his iconic hat and coaching clothes that were just his causal wear, that Simon thinks he have a stack of hats in his closet somewhere. Since the man was never seem without it during the time that Ghost known him. Then again the man treat him as a son when things are going down hill. He take a seat in nearby chair and waited patiently for them to finish. It wasn’t the first time he see them deep in conversion nor will it be their last. Farah the gym’s owner wearing her business entire.

“Look Farah, I know you and Hadir are having difficulties with the financial of the gym and the youth boxing program. Along with having Alex and your brother to keeping things under control when you aren’t around, but you need to have a bit more trust in them. You can’t keep worrying about the what ifs. I’m sure that these two boys will keep things running smoothly until you get back from your holiday.” Price say trying to reassure her.

Farah let out a sigh understanding her friend was looking out for her and their business. But she couldn’t help feeling a bit unease with what she’ll about to say next.

“I know Price, it’s just that the thought of having Alex and Hadir temporarily take care of the boxing youth program during my absence terrified me. The last time I was gone, Hadir think it was a good idea for the children to have a free for all brawl in the ring resulting in receiving anger phone calls from their parents. And a temporarily suspension on the program that I honestly wish he discussed this with me.”

Price give her a nod of understand. “I’m sure Alex will keep an eye on him this time around, beside the kid haven’t disappointed you yet. And proven himself multiple times that he can handle the responsibilities of the gym on his own. Along with the whole process of opening and closing shop, you’ll be in good hands.”

“I hope so, I honestly can’t handle another anger phone calls ambush. And thank you Price, I’ll see you in a few weeks. And please make sure the equipment don't get damages.” with that the conversation ended with Farah left the room leaving Price and Ghost alone.

Both of them didn’t say anything for an awhile now until Price break the silent.

“I’m sorry you have to listen to our conversation, while you wait Si. I hope you haven’t no problem with the locker room, since Alex and Hadir remodeled them before they reveal them to Farah as a surprise. Of course their wallets aren’t so luckily. anyway they’ll be in change while Farah is out for the day. Try not to give them a hard time alright? We want a repeat like last time.”

Ghost nodded in understatement not really impress with the temporarily change in management for the day. Plus he have a feeling that Hadir is still terrific of him about the whole Halloween skeleton event last year. That resulted in the poor man passing out in front of group of children when he saw Ghost fully dressed as the grim reaper with skull mask and all. Even scared some of the children as well, that Alex, Gaz, and Price have to comfort, calm them down, and reassured them all that it was just Ghost in a costume not the actual grim reaper himself. With Roach give the kiddos some candy and Farah take her brother to a spare room to get him to regain consciousness and not make the kids extremely worry.

Roach finishes giving out the treats towards the children signing a comment along the lines of them being brave. He walk up to Ghost and excuse themselves out of earshot and slight to have a private conversation. About him turning down the costume’s horror factor down for the kids sake’s for next year. Since some might have panic attacks or other medical condition that affect their breathing. Ghost take his friend’s concern to heart and promise him that he won’t accidentally scared the children and Hadir again.

Roach is a writer for a small publishing firm in UK that not many people know about along with being Ghost’s childhood friend and emotional supportive person. when things at home weren’t going “peaceful” to put it in simple terms. He visit Simon from time to time when the boxer was training at the gym, at home, or with Price and Gaz even doing causal civilian activities with the group. There are times that the writer even seen his friend’s boxing matches to show his support and write articles about them that his writing catch the readers’ attention on paper and online.

Simon wonder how’s his friend is holding up these days. They haven’t talk since the grand opening of the young program few months back. That given them an excuse to play a little catch up and share what they been doing in their life. It was honestly one of the ways they communicate with each other without having their profession in the way. He missed their conversations, jokes, and even tales of good childhood memories that they both share with each other. That he hold dear in his heart like a secret treasure that he doesn’t want to share with anyone. His bond with Roach is something that help him climb out of the darkness and the stepping stone to be the man he is now.

The deph of his thoughts isn’t always the safe places for him to wonder alone even though the memories of his youth are something that appearances and replay in his slumber when he lease expect it. Causing him to either wake up in terrific cold sweats and teary eyed, or somehow hurt himself in someway or form that result in him not remembering how it happened. or why he was even in unknown room with zero purpose at all. One day while Roach was staying over at his place him was having one of these night terrors that result of him obtained an knife from the kitchen. With the noises of him racking the cabinets and drawers that wake the tried man from his slumber, and look at him with immediate shock and realization that put him into high gear of alarm. Trying to do everything in his power to snap Simon out of his traces which in the end resulted in a close close that the outcome will result in attempted murdered on a legal stand point.

Simon drop the knife in between them shaking from the fear and realization what almost occur and had done right in front of him. Causing the 6’8 buff giant to knee on the floor and started to mentally breakdown with his face staring down on the floor too afraid to look up that his childhood friend. Roach feeling the effect of adrenaline rushing throughout his body still did the only thing he can do in that moment. He gently and carefully slide the knife out of the way and reached between them with the heel of his shoes. Gently and slowly around his arms around his friend’s neck bring his shaken body close to him and causing his face to be burying in his chest and sleep clothes. Along with giving his friend a safe temporarily place to hid his face. Roach holding Simon close against his small body tightly and protectively trying his best to comfort him, until the two of them fell asleep where they stay letting the night slip into day.

Now that event is just a memory that the boxer wants to forget about not from the embarrassment but for feeling self hatred towards himself. For letting it happened and making Roach seeing him at his worst and breaking point, which is something he doesn’t want either his close friends and acquaintance to see, even in public. And prefer to keep his personal issues to himself and don’t want to bother anyone with them especially Price and Roach.

Ghost dig himself out of his thoughts when both him and Price arrive at the training area of the gym. Both of them haven’t spoken to each other since earlier when Farah left to attend business elsewhere. Ghost spotted Gaz inspecting the equipment one final time before leaving it alone with Alex standing beside him bit annoyed.

“Gaz, for the last time the treadmill, drum-bells, stack weights, and the sandbag are fine without any signs of any damaged or worn from usages. You honestly need to chill.”

Gaz looked up at Alex abit annoy with the man’s behavior.

“Can’t Alex, you know that, plus Ghost need to be in tip-top shape with equipment that are in great or good condition to train for his matches, along with improve in areas that are lacking in strengths or skills. We can’t have him injuring himself and others on broken equipment that can result in anger phone calls by customers and parents. That will cause the gym to loss the community support and funding of the youth program. Plus we don’t want Farah to blow an kettle now do we?” responsive Gaz while getting off the ground and dust himself off with his hands.

Alex let out a loud sigh knowing full well that Farah put her heart and soul into this gym and the youth program. Even the community's help to remodel and expand the gym over the years is something he’s proud to be an part of even tho he’s an American, a foreigner in a foreign land with the same language but different dialect and tones. He sometime wishes he wasn’t American due to the stereotypes, history, and past relationships that the rest of the world had with the United States. And he isn’t proud with his own country’s actions and dark history either. Feeling Gaz’s glares staring at him still giving him a indicator that he spent bit too much time with his thoughts.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you inspect the darn equipment as much as you Gaz. Fucking hell man, you made valid points, and honestly I don’t want Farah to feel overwhelmed with other angry mob of parents and customers on the phone lines and in person.” Alex say rising his hands in defeat. “We already had to deal with that type of chaos during Halloween when Ghost accidentally scared the kids. And I don’t want her to deal with an injured gym member and potential lawsuit.”

“Funny for you to say that, while you two muppets were deep in your yapping, you didn’t notices Ghost and I walk in and listening to both of you auguring about gym equipment like some schoolboys. Now what go you two so work up that you can’t take this matter outside in privately that you want the whole gym to know?” Prince interrupt them before their conversation become too heated that will let to a scene. And one way ticket to Farah’s office to face her wrath of punishment and discipline.

Both Alex and Gaz look toward the coach and the boxer direction feel embarrass that both of them have to see them having an agurement about something so minor.

“Sorry sir, it won’t happened again, it’s just an old habit of mine that’s hard to kick in the bucket.” Gaz said sheepishly

“Sorry, you guys have to witness that, Gaz and my behavior isn’t appropriate in a public space like this one. Hope you accept our apology, and you have my word that this won’t ever happen again.” Alex say a shame and embarrass with his behavior.

Price give an nod of understanding and acceptation, while Ghost give them one of his rare intimidating but forgiving stares. The duo release an sigh of relief and join the other two to begin their workday. And the sounds of training equipment begin to appear marking the start of Ghost’s training routine for the day. With both Alex and Gaz are on the sidelines as spotters to make sure everything run smoothly, while Price’s coaching Ghost throughout the routine with words of encouragement and jabs. That make Simon wanting to push himself harder and give it his all for the rest of the day.