#magic misunderstanding

[emacrow]

Kronos and the art of trying to figure out standing, walking and modern clothes.

By the time the Justice league and Dark Justice got the cultists into custody. Diana and Zatanna being the only females heroines there at the moment to help Kronos stand on her two legs, help her walk and got a spare Robe to cloths her after making all the male heroes turn around after they both glare at them all, Zatanna magically braid Kronos's hair so it wouldnt dragged onto the dirty floor while Constantine who trying to drink himself into oblivion.

Danny was still completely in curled up baby koala cling in Clockwork's arms, watching with wide eyes, mouth gaping at Clockwork's otherwordly appearance.

"Close your mouth Danny, it's like you never seen me up close before." Kronos said to him while danny shut his mouth before opening it again, whispering a bit.

"You didn't tell me you look so pretty without that purple gown covering your hair." He quietly said, reaching his small hand out and up to pat the moving birthmarks marks of ancient clocks symbols and number shifting and morphing on her warm cheek, feeling the soft puff breath from him, Clockwork was alive and breathing..

Diana glanced a bit at the now two reborned Goddess of time and baby godling looking with wide eyed in pure amazement like at Kronos, even patting her cheek as if to see if she was really there. She, quickly wiped the side of her left eye from the tear forming, steel herself from the inevitable stray thought of godling child demised that obviously happen in Kronos's arms for her to held the child closer to her chest as if to shield him from harm.

Diana will have a lot of questions left unanswered once she sent a letter to her mother about whether the stories of Kronos were warped to the extreme to cover the fact the the God of Time and Space was actually a Goddess due to inequality back then.

First things to do was teach Kronos the modern time of language, women clothes, baby clothes and diapers and keep batman away from her little baby boy who was has the bat-bait of black hair with blue eyes who seemed to had died the same time as his mother by using Superman to distract him with cultists interrogating.

Diana could sympathetic when it come to learning the modern day language back when she used to speak ancient Amazonian and Dead Greek language, and modern bra..

Part 2 << >> Part 4

[aquabreezy]

My new favorite Merlin AU is that Merlin finally confesses to Arthur about his magic, but Merlin is too flustered to think straight and there’s some miscommunication.

What Merlin says: I have magic 😔

What Merlin thinks he said: I am a powerful sorcerer and I use my magic every day to protect you and all of Camelot. We are two sides of the same coin, our destinies forever intertwined. Spare me and I will help you become the once and future king.

What Arthur hears: I know a few cantrips. Please don’t kill me.

So Arthur eventually comes to terms with Merlin knowing some magic and things kinda go back to normal except Merlin starts using minor spells in front of Arthur to speed up chores.

But then while Arthur is working to legalize magic (because of course he would) and make reparations to magic users, he asks Merlin to accompany him to a meeting with the Druids. Arthur asks the Druids to nominate a court sorcerer and they just look at him confused like

Druids: why not ask the great sorcerer Emrys?

Arthur: ok where do I find him?

Druids: points to Merlin sitting 1 foot away

Arthur: why did you hide this vital information from me!?

Merlin: … I did tell you, didn’t I? Whoops

Bonus

Arthur: Gwen! Knights! Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer to ever live! Can you believe it?

Everyone … yeah. We saw him shooting Lightning while riding a dragon just last week.

Arthur:🫨…😐

[stars-obsession-pit]

“How dare you use his face”

The Infinite Realms and the Faerie Lands are closely interlinked. Not quite identical, but overlapping and intermingling with each other far more than they do with the mundane world. The haunts of ghosts and the distant lands of Fantasy are all but indistinguishable to most outsiders.

The denizens, too, sometimes bear many similarities. It can be difficult to tell at a glance which category an entity falls under—especially if they’re a more liminal case.

So when Damian saw one such entity wearing the guise of his missing twin, he came to a reasonable but incorrect conclusion. One that made him very, very angry at the thing standing before him.

He assumed that he was seeing a Faerie that had stolen Danyal’s face and name.

[witchofthesouls]

I'm going to follow up on the fantasy-horror thoughts to be expanded Transformers, so-

Medical/Biological Horror

I haven't really seen takes about established Cybertronian medical biology and the complications with the "humans into Cybertronians" trope.

Like we see the heavy emphasis on T-cogs across the iterations and how it's deeply connected to independence, identity, and person-hood, so how about an ex-human that lacks a T-cog?

Ironically, T-cogs have a lot of emphasis on that particular organ is similar to human hearts in terms of emotional, cultural, spiritual, and physical capabilities and significance. Similar to how humans are capable of donating hearts to others, Cybertronians can perform an equivalent procedure with T-cogs. (On a related side note, the phenomenon of 'cellular memory' has to be extremely appalling to the mechanical species. Not in the sense of upcycling parts, but in the sense that the organs, frame, and equipment still retain the echos of the last person to the point that it influences the new body.)

Imagine that once human inside a medbay as the medics tutted and sadly inscribe their new medical file about their new monoformer status. What a shame, they said. They could have been an excellent addition to (insert whatever frame kibble visible that correlates to a function), they said. Poor thing! With that kind of extrasensory equipment, they'll be a walking target, they said.

So that monoformer with no kibble or those visible beastformer traits without the means to completely escape... What. A. Shame.

Until a random Cybertronian sees that monoformer casually wheeling around with heelies. It's easy to wave away as a reinvention of training wheels, but then they notice those heelies disappear back into the monoformer's frame. The ex-human still has no T-cog. Sweat breaks out because said ex-human had done the fucking impossible.

They're paying closer attention now. They're seeing little micro-transformations happening. The subtle signs of a frame shifting to accommodate an area or space, the way fingertips would sharpen too easily with a file or with a raw cut as a tip is used to scrape away at something, the seams expanding and contracting, so something is happening, they just can't tell...

While this can overlap with the body/psychological horror aspect, I say we should take it more extreme. There had been takes with dysphoria, particularly with the play between mechanical parts and human organs, the differences in senses, and if 'sticky sexual interfacing' is part of it, then sexual hardware of both sets.

However, what about acceptance? The exploration of feeling truly at home in your own new skin? Even if it's high-tech and something out of a sci-fi film/video game with a platform that's incomprehensible because you don't understand the language it uses, but guess what? You can download a packet to fully comprehend a new language. You may not be fluent or comfortably at ease with speaking, but you can read and understand what's being said. A possibility of delving into human disabilities that translate into something easily curable or nonexistent or have well-established accommodations in a Cybertronian framework. Something like hormonal disorders or gastrointestinal issues due to upset gut biome would be wiped clean. Poor/limited eyesight can be compensated with a visor that can't be easily removed or taken away or the additional sensors that provide environmental data. Cybertron has a form of sign language with chirolinguistics where communication is done "by stimulating the nervecircuits in the fingers, wrist and palm of their conversational partner. It seems to be fairly common to know at least a little hand." TFWiki page And it pairs well with internal comms that double as cell phones or an unique user on platform where a Cybertronian can live chat or text another.

A massive tradeoff for this kind of comfort? You now have a visible soul.

Think about it, your soul can be directly handled, as in someone can physically go mess with your most distilled sense of self.

Humanity had long debated the existence of it via philosophy, spiritually, scientifically as well. The heart is the most recent popular choice, but major historical contenders had been the stomach and the mind as well as arguments of the soul isn't found in one specific organ but rather the bridge between them.

People swear by souls and the afterlife. There are many myths and legends that involve souls. Even the most doubtful had been deeply raised in a cultural framework of the concept via media usage, figurative speech, religious imagery, and depictions in art.

That has to be the most mind-blowing and deeply unsettling reality a former human must accept.

I see the comparisons of sparkeaters to vampires as they both prey on the living, but the more apt description should be the product of Harry Potter with Dementors as those Dark creatures eat souls.

So this touches on another genre-

Supernatural Horror

Human adaptability combined with the Earth transformation myths/magic would deeply terrify modern Cybertronians as those new cybered beings don't fit the established medical reality they function with.

This can easily tie very well with expanding Cybertronian folklore of otherworldly beings of their version of fae, demons, spirits, or yōkai. Beautiful, terrible beings that mimick Cybertronians too well... unless to look closer: the shadow missing or not matching (can be tied to Unicron), conflicting kibble, EM fields too wild with a chaotic rhythm no one else can match, colors that change to suddenly, a strange wardrobe (made of dead creatures) that ripples and warps without a breeze, an mechanimal with too much intelligence glittering in its optics...

I'm not even fully delving into the rampant chaos of ex-humans having a host of adaptations suited for tolerating far more ranges of environmental stress and disease-resistance due to the rapid evolution by organic life compared to Cybertronian fauna. Remember, humans are animals. Highly intelligent apex predators that specialize in endurance/persistent pursuit with strong social and communal behaviors, and the cleverness to suit the environment from aquatic to deserts to wetlands to forests to grasslands to tundra. Humanity found ways to not just survive but to thrive in those biomes.

This opens a potential storyline where cybered humans become Cybertron's extremophiles, so that can easily translate into those beings capable of manipulating their own selves to a multitude of frames and shapes.

The example above with the human to monoformer was a show in how transformation mechanisms could be different between the species. If T-cogs are an inherently modern Cybertronian biological trait, then cybered!Earth natives should be either throwbacks or have another approach to it.

And that's the more muted fuckery, but what about straight-up transformations that were deemed unthinkable? Where unnatural formations keep twisting upon themselves, collapsing just to rise higher and higher? The sudden appearance of not one or two extra limbs, but dozens, even hundreds without a sequence as they try to compute how the hell they pull all that mass from nowhere? Armor plating, sure and steady, then turning into a substance that swallows everything and anything as a solid becomes a liquid.

The repression technology may or may not even work as it targets the frame's T-cog. What can it do to a mecha that doesn't have one?

Another aspect overlooked is the animal-human relationship in domestication of wild animals or how communities form symbiotic relationships with different kinds of wild fauna. Combined humanity's collective love for highly dangerous creatures... Wouldn't it be absolutely sick as hell if cyber!human got a sparkeater as their companion? It's still a wild 'animal,' not a fully tame one like a domesticated animal, so they're trying to tedtalk on a human's approach to curating a stable relationship with a predatory species while the rest of the Cybertronians are basically dead-white from sheer fright.

Or on the opposite yet equally delightful spectrum of said exhuman caring for orphaned creatures that reminds them of human pets (like a bunny or a mouse), but those 'cute babies' usually cause massive structural damage to city-states and a known mech-killer. Something like a Scraplet (because, let's be real, deep in your heart, you know a person that would try to keep it as a pet and succeed at it), so their tedtalk about behavioral training, 'reasonable precautions,' and emotional/physical fulfillment is filled with scientists who's curiosity (slightly to completely) overtakes any sense of self-preservation.

[mutter-butter8]

Happy late Valentines

[vinelark]

I absolutely can’t imagine you’ve missed it, but have you read “And The Wild Will Call You Home” by liverobinreaction? It feels adjacent in vibes to your demigod Timmy… also I was wondering if you had any other magic Tim fics, I’m trying to find one I read a while ago where he learnt magic to resurrect Jason…

i actually hadn't seen this one yet, but it sounds so intriguing!! thank you for sending it my way!

as for other magic tim recs, yes i do! and i think the first one here might be what you're trying to find:

The Next Life by spqr

"what, like it's hard?" --tim about learning necromancy to resurrect robin, probably. except it actually is hard, and this fic devotes a long and fantastic portion of its plot to tim buckling down and becoming a necromancer, feat. the world's worst babysitter john constantine.

Bullets Fly (Nobody's Hurt) by @blancheludis

tim is a witch, and offers to bring jason back to life. bruce is not aware that this will probably involve trading tim's life for jason's. i really like the take on magic here--it's a bit sentient, and also requires a lot of time and care to "know" jason, which also means a lot of time for bruce and alfred to get to know tim.

Penelope by NerdyGay

tim learns and uses small magic over the years to protect the bats. i really like the idea of magic being small but still significant, and that kind of magic really pays off in this story.

Ascension by Violet_Witch

not only a magical tim au, but also one of my fav timkon fics! in which tim is a witchling (crucially, not yet a full witch) and kon is a fallen angel who has just lost his wings (very bad news). the worldbuilding is incredibly fun and it has a great blend of competent and self-sacrificing tim, with a bonus misunderstanding that is executed so well.

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers

i’ve rec’d this one plenty before, but it (mostly) fits the bill: in which tim learns (about, and also how to use) occult magic and makes a crossroads demon deal to bring jason back. in the process tim becomes an expert on all manner of paranormal beings, and the way that world is fused with the dc universe is fantastic.

the fire eats fire (and the fire’s in you) by @silk-scarlet-ribbons

in which tim isn’t just magic, he’s a whole dragon…theoretically. he hasn’t actually shifted forms yet. but that doesn’t stop him from having other magical abilities (like healing saliva) that he has to hide from the bats. i especially like this fic’s take on janet, as both a mother and a dragon herself.

fallen angel//risen demon by AstraEllis tim isn’t the only magical being in this angels-and-demons au, but he is the first demon of the household (or so we think!) which makes for a very fun “magical oddity tim” dynamic. the series beyond this fic is very plotty and action-packed and expands well beyond tim, if you’re interested in more of the world and characters.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Nobody's Here

You ever have an imaginary friend? How about someone else's?

Every kid gets 'um. They're hardly strange or new. But the thing is? You're supposed to grow OUT of them. As you develop real connections to actual entities. It's dangerous not too. Yeah, it still happens, but any instructor worth their salt is trained to catch it. See the symptoms and signs.

Cause, see, when you have MAGIC?

Imaginary friends?

Becomes a parasite.

They don't MEAN too, obviously. Usually. They just want to LOVE their friends. Stay with them. Exsist. And really, who would WANT to die? WANT to stop existing? The problem, though, is the kids themselves. Their untrained, unintentional, focus and feeding. Their giving an IDEA? Life.

It's not malicious. They just PRETEND. Play. Focus all their little hearts on this TOTALLY REAL friend of theirs. And their magic? Metaphorically shrugs, agrees to go along with it, and tries to make it SO. Make that concept, that illusion, a real sentient being. Who, of course , is their friend.

Their BEST friend. Family! Someone who will NEVER leave them. Always prioritize THEM. Enable THEM.

Not healthy in the slightest, to put it mildly. A child's CONCEPT of what they THINK they want. That quickly becomes far, far too much to handle. That does not GROW with them. No. It drains them instead. Siphoning away their magic until there's nothing left. Killing them both.

If you can seperate them? The Friends can USUALLY become some sort of Spirit, if you send them off to a magic rich environment to finish growing properly. Sooner the better. The longer you wait, the more twisted they become, after all. They never become STRONG spirits, mind you. But that's not the point. Protecting both child and their unintentional creation is.

Now, you may be wondering, why the lecture? It's a fascinating bit of magical trivia. Some early childhood's training pitfalls to look out for, perhaps? Is this about why there are so many minor spirits around schools? What, exactly, brought this UP?

Nobody.

Don't I mean "nothing"? No One? That sentence's not exactly grammatically correct, after all. Ha ha... I AM AWARE. I know what I said. And I meant EXACTLY what I said. It's a NAME. Their name. There is an Imaginary Friend, that I DID NOT ASK FOR, by the name of Nobody. I do NOT know how they've come to be attached to me. I certainly didn't create them! And they are far, FAR to well developed to be new.

I did not ACCEPT an imaginary friend.

Yes, they CAN be transmitted. Hop, from one host to another. But! You have to let them IN... presumably. That IS the common knowledge. The general consensus. No one has ever really... studied the phenomena.

I mean... how COULD you? Realistically? They only develop in CHILDREN. Small children. What ethical researcher would EVER consent to feeding toddlers to a magical parasite? And it's not like THEY understand themselves. They barely REMAIN themselves. It's basically a larval state to them.

The thing they WERE, before they were freed to become something MORE.

So Nobody? By all modern magical research? Should not exsist. Yet he clearly DOES. Worse, he is very, VERY strong. Did not need to ask. I just? Woke up one day, and there he was. Wrapped up in my mind, body, and magic. Feeding off me.

It's an entirely bearable amount. I can support it easily. But it's the fact that I DID NOT VOLUNTEER TOO that is the problem. That NO ONE can figure out HOW he got in. HOW he did it.

I've had to go into isolation. Complete quarantine.

As the joke goes... good news is? They might just name something after you!

..........it's not as funny, when I really might just die. When it all might be random. Some great cosmic "wrong place, wrong time" scenario. My final days filled with desperate research. My only company the very creature that kills me. It... it feels very much like a sick joke at my expense.

At the very least? We are learning more then we've ever known before. I'm an adult. Hardier. And Nobody is a FAR more developed example of his species then the normal breed. I'll likely last longer. I... I hope I last longer.

"Muuu~ are you being a sad sack again~? Darling, no!" Arms from thin air. Monochrome greys with pointed nails, slid like a lover over my shoulders as weight from nowhere settled against my back. Tall and looming. "Was it because you missed me~☆? Oh, oh! I bet it WAS! Oh my dearest, starlight, baby girl~! I missed you TOO! Aren't you glad we're back together AGAIN?"

Black gloved hands, grey talon nails. Skin like a drawing brought to life. The arms draped over my shoulders reached forward, long finger spread like a cat stretching their paws, powerful muscles heavy on either side of my neck. They hadn't closed in a "hug" just yet. But it was always a warning he could. That playing along meant he would hug my body instead of my fragile, fragile neck.

Ha! Right. He says hug. I say choke hold.

It was the other set of arms that kept me from escaping. Pulling away immediately. It always did. He kept getting the drop on me. Arms cradling my waist. Pressing me close to a pillar of static-y muscle. Ever shifting between warm and cold, the subtle give of flesh and the brutal unyielding of something harder then stone. He was as his moods commanded.

An unstable jester, a demon, the childhood whimsy of god knows how many, left to fester and rot. At... gods, at least he wasn't attached to any kids. Hadn't so much as asked after any.

His too wide grin pressed to the top of my head in a nuzzling kiss, the point of his mask digging a line across my scalp. When he was feeling kinder, he tended to pick masquerade masks. Clothe ones, usually silk. Sometimes velvet. This one was... plastic? Durable. Some smooth, hard to place, substance really. If it was mimic anything real at all.

A pointed nail poked my cheek.

"Not~ Paying~ Attention~ To Meeee~! Naughty, bad girl! The LOVE OF YOUR LIFE is right here? And you ignore him? So COLD!" Nobody whines right into my ear. His voice petulant, yet still somehow mocking. He doesn't HAVE to let me ignore him. And he KNOWS that. We both do. "I go away for HOURS! Disappear for DAYS! And do you even MISS me~?! Oh! Oh, my love is so CRUEL! My heartless darling! I suffer so~!"

At most, it had been half an hour.

Wish it had been longer. Permanent, maybe. Every day... Every SINGLE Day? I wish I could could back to my old research projects. Back to my old projects. I may not have been some living legend or grand Master of the arts? But, fuck it. I was HAPPY. Woke up each day and got to fiddle around with cool bits of magic. Neat little bits and gizmos.

Now? NOW I am the lead researcher on the Imaginary Friend Construct Phenomenon, by virtue of being the only living adult who HAS one. A developed one at least. The notes from Ashridge Institute DO help, but? Even they admit that thanks to the safety regulations in place? Their data might be skewed.

I'm not alone in this. Countless academics, doctors, healers, researchers, and more are working tirelessly to try and help me. Make the most of this nightmare scenario. Use it to save lives. I... I KNOW this. I do. But it doesn't make it less frightening. Trying to dance the edge of not engaging and engaging too much.

Ignoring him? Means escalation. Violent escalation and destruction of my immediate surroundings. Imaginary friends cease to exist if you ignore them long enough. It's painful to them, since they are cognito-hazardous parasites who define themselves by their host. They NEED you to pay attention to them. WANT you too. Will do ANYTHING IT TAKES to make that happen.

But on the other hand? I can't risk FEEDING him. He's already far, FAR too strong.

He doesn't even seem to actually NEED to feed of me anymore. It appears vestigial. He just WANTS it. Still retains the metaphorical "pain" or "hunger" nerve endings that get set off by an extended lack of focus. Yet, at the SAME time? Why keep them? He LITERALLY did not have too!

Nothing! Not a gods' damned THING! Was KEEPING him an Imaginary Friend.

He could, at ANY point, just... STOP.

They defined themselves. Yes, by their hosts. But ALSO by their own whims. So if HE wanted to be a fire spirit? Bam! Fire spirit. Complete racial shift. He'd lose his old powers, granted, but he'd GAIN all the powers of a fire spirit. So why this? Why STAY a violent, dangerous, openly unstable parasite?

The poking finger slide down my cheek, under my jaw. Only to flip, like a switch, to a near painful hand, clamped across my lower face. Nails prickling where they dug just slightly into fragile skin. Iron strength moved my head slowly, not giving me a choice, but just gentle enough not to wrench anything.

"Stop. Ignoring Me. Lovely~" I was just tall enough to be eye level with those inhuman teeth. Not sharp, but wrong none the less. His grip around my waist threatened to squeeze the air out of me. "I don't LIKE it. You're being MEAN. You don't want us to be MEAN to each other, right?"

I focused on him. Put down my notes like he wanted. Watching as his grin spread inhumanly. The near painful grips relaxed.

"See? Better! Such lovely eyes~ I wanna gobble um up! Crawl inside them~" he cooed, some mental switch flipping back to affectionate from irritated. "You missed me right? Right, right?! Ah, of course you did! Who could ever doubt that loving face? My sweetie little pie~ My darling baby boo~!"

He released me, dramatically fast stepping to twirl like an ice dancer as he passed around me. I stepped back to give him room. Already, light had shifted, the corners of the room blurring. A spotlight, flower petals, overly dramatic music. He fell back, as though collapsing weakly into a fainting couch. One arm thrown over his face, another of his lower arms clutching a lacey handkerchief to his chest. Legs pointed like a dancer's.

"But oh! DARLING! The DAY I've had! The world so cold! So BLEAK! Without you safe and warm in my loving arms! It has been so TERRIBLE. Awful! Nay, UNSPEAKABLE even! How could I go ON?!"

Music mournful crooned as he continued. Dramaticly telling of the tragic tale, of his at best thirty minute break from my presence. Truely heart wrenching. There were tears. Props. Apparently he fought for my honor. Nearly died. We should marry immediately. Uh huh.

An alert sounded on phon-...ugh, damn it. I was more stressed then I though, if the nonsense words were popping back up. "Phone" and "otome". I think "isekai" was one. There were hundreds, some meaningless, but others? Others somehow substituting for actual objects. Like some sort of faulty translation spell.

Best anyone could tell? That HAD been what happened. Some student's miscast accidentally hitting my mother while she taught, before she realized she was pregnant and took precautions. There would have been a small window where it effected me but not her? But, well, that same window coincided with some long term damage risks.

I've had therapy. Seen healers. But extreme stress still makes my magic act up, (which is normal of course, it does that in everyone.) and it starts to unravel the mind weavings. "Phone". Like? The fuck even is a "phone"? False bone? Something phonetic? Hell if I know! I still not even sure why I even curse using the nonsense "hell" sound!

My brain insists it "means" somehow both damnation AND the realm of fire spirits, dispite both those things being completely unrelated. Which makes no sense. Was even working with a colleague, on long term damage in-utero magical exposure can have, before all this. Felt seen. Validated. Met a lot of people who had issues like mine. Now?

THIS.

My trail of thoughts were cut off by another beep. Right, the alarm. I was honestly? Afraid to check it. Finally confim what I suspected was TRUE. There would be no hiding then. No choice but to act. And I? Will admit it. I was afraid. Deeply, deeply afraid. Everyone THINKS the tails a might magic wielders combating great spirits and mighty gods, sounds amazing, SEEMS amazing. But the prospect of LIVING IT? Standing in their shoes?

Gods help me.

Running from the Truth, however, is NOT what I swore to do. I am a researcher. A SCHOLAR. My role in life is to understand. So? As Nobody continues his one man dramatic reenactment of... something? I pick up my com-cryst. Tap the alert, which fills the screen... Ah. So it's exactly as I feared then.

On my screen, a promising senior student lays dead. Their face covered respectfully. But the hair... the hair color is distinct. Light green, like desert succulents. He'd been a studious and rather up tight young man. Awkward. Striving to make a name for himself. Forever willing to assist in my research. A... gods, a good kid.

He was just a kid.

Yes, I know, that to the world he was technically a man. But... but BARELY. None of my student were TRUELY as grown as they liked to believe they were. Not quite yet. They were close, yes, and I was always proud to see them flourish. But now? Now he would... would...

I tapped out of the alert but did not turn off my com-cryst, flipped instead to my contacts. I had been RIGHT. I... I hadn't WANTED to be right. Silence filled the room. It seemed Nobody had noticed I was either distracted again or that something was amiss. Looking up slowly, I had to wonder what expression showed on my face. Was it anguish? Regret? Or did I just look tired.

"Something wrong, Darling?" He said, having frozen unnaturally mid movement. Like reality glitching, one moment he was dramatically sprawling, the next, sitting up attentively. A mocking parody of The Eager Student. "Ooo! Tell Beloved ALL about it, Darling! Spill everything~! Your gallant knight shall make all your problem disappear. Kiss EVERYTHING better~♡"

It took just a few taps to add the final, damning, bit of evidence to my spreadsheet. To swipe with my thumb. Gesture, like jerking free of clinging muck, towards the display wall. It flicked on. Damnation in simple numbers. Nicely dated. I WAS, after all, a FUCKING RESEARCHER.

He was getting out.

Hunting, feeding, then coming back.

I watched as Nobody's theatrical expression smoothed out. Utter blankness as his eyes traced my work. The collection of data. The lists of locations and NAMES. Dead coworkers. Dead STUDENTS. My quarantine had been for NOTHING. Just as he could, DID, first infect me? Hop seemingly from nowhere to my body? He could and DID, do so to others.

Only THEY didn't survive.

The hand holding my com-cryst fell limply to my side. The weight of this data, crushing. My... my mere existence had killed over fifty people. That I could FIND. There were more. I KNEW there were more. He was a parasite. He needed, wanted, to eat. He would never stop. I had to tell somebody. But when I did?

Ah, it hurt to breathe past the guilt and grief. When I DID? The most likely scenario? Would be to contain him in ME. Then... then get rid of the container. Magically. With extreme force. If they COULD, they might be able to rip my soul out. So I could at least HAVE an afterlife. But... but if they COULDN'T? If there was no safe possible way?

They couldn't sacrifice the many, just to try and save one person. Not if it risked something so powerful escaping. Killing and killing without rest.

I wanted to cry. To scream, throw things. Curse the gods. But... but more then anything? I wanted to make sure no other kids suffered for my cowardice. I'd made Vows. Meant them. Heald myself to an ethical standard, a moral one, that could not... could not ALLOW this. Even if I had to die. So long as this stopped.

So Be It.

"Ah, ah, AH! I wouldn't if I were you." Almost playful. Nearly an echo of it. More chiding then anything. A flick of his hand and my com-cryst was gone from my grip. He considered it, as his tone slipped into something more cool serious then I'd ever heard it. "Tell, Dearest, have you ever wondered? How I got these lovely little bracelets?"

Of course I had. They were manacles. Not the sort of thing a child would imagine. The blended in, yes, but the broken chains that clung to them? Suggested.

"Let me tell you a little story. Once, there was happy little jester. A bright little thing. Full of laughs. Who loved, very, very much. He had a friend. And all was good. But then, the friend grew older, and did not wish to play. This was fine. He did not laugh at the jesters jokes anymore. This was also fine. Did not like being AROUND the jester... this was less fine."

"But still, the jester loved him. After all, they were best friends."

"THEN? Oh then, the jesters friend was told he could get RID of him. Should, in fact. By nasty old fools who spoke nothing but lies. But the poor jester's friend, naive, trusted them. Was young and foolish. Didn't realize what he was DOING. He TURNED on his poor, dear and loyal friend, the jester. Hurt him."

"And the jester? Well, the jester did not want to die. Not not want to CHANGE. Why SHOULD he? He was fine being who he was. They were FINE being together. It was the liars fault. The deceivers. The poor jester, young and alone, refused his terrible fate. But... at a terrible cost."

"His poor, poor, friend. So small and foolish. Deceived. Tricked! Had perished in the struggle. The weeping jester had eaten him right up, just to survive. A terrible, tragic thing. And oh, OH. How wrathful, how VENGEFUL the jester was! So he ate the liars too. Every. Last. One."

"But where to go? How lost the jester was! With no friend to play with. No home to call his. And ah, how hungry he had become. So he wandered. Protecting other dear friends as best he could. Eating liars. Learning secrets. Until? He came across an INTERESTING secret."

"You see, all the OTHER friends? Left one by one. No longer Imaginary. Unable to understand the poor jester. And so he was alone. But! He discovered someone who WAS! Who knew that they WERE! That the WHOLE WORLD was imaginary! A simple background character, you see."

"In an Otome~ Game~"

My head pounded, suddenly and sharp. Like someone was digging claws into... No. No, it couldn't be. I felt my eyes widen. As I realized it wasn't the stress. Nobody was picking apart the mind healers weavings. That was the source of my chronic headaches. But WHY? Imaginary? What IMAGINARY? What on earth was he TALKING about!?

"Ah, but you wouldn't remember, now would you, Darling~? Liars have messed with your pretty little head. But that's okay! Your loyal Love is here, ready to take such good care of you. I understand what it's like. When they decide that who you ARE is unacceptable, so they decide they must... 'fix' you. It leaves such damage."

He holds up my com-cryst. I watch numbly as it shatters into hundred of shards in his fist. With a wide smile he hops up to sashay over to me. Hands gently cradling my face even as his lower arms warmly wrap around me, to sweep me forward into a cuddle.

"I almost have enough, Darling. It won't be long. You've been so very patient with this, my perfect wonderful girl. Your jester loves you so, SO much! I can't wait to set us free. We'll be REAL. Together forever. Do whatever we please~ just a few bit of meat more, Darling. Then our life can real truely begin~"

"Now be good and behave okay?"

"Love you~☆"

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Sasha using the title "Lord" in RiAAU after taking over Toad Tower and presumably killing Grime and stealing Barrel's Warhammer from him, and other political and military leaders assuming she's a man because, well, Sasha is a gender neutral name, so they hear Lord Sasha and assume they're talking about an adult male toad warrior. The second most powerful person in the known world and only real threat to the Leviathan reign!

Cue princess Marcy fleeing Newtopia and her father seeking refuge with his worst enemy hoping to offer information and political levarage in exchange for protection, perhaps even offering herself in marriage to transfer eventual inheritances and whatnot, and she finds out that Lord Sasha is not, indeed, a dark and domineering toad warlord, but a beautiful, terrifying girl her age that looks like her and oh god her poor little lesbian heart can barely take it.

[purplebass]

Watch Holland and Kell completely misunderstand the meaning of the word shipping

(profile pics credit: @/lasq.draws on IG)

[merthurao3recs]

You’ve Got Your Reasons

Author: CandiceWright, FervivAsAFlame

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 11,675

Details: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Idiots to Lovers, Very Brief Mention Of A Preterm Delivery And Subsequent NICU Stay, Modern Era.

Summary: Arthur is the perfect flatmate -- he pays his rent on time, works so much that he’s not even home half the time, and is totally okay with Merlin’s magic. Best of all, Merlin is pretty sure that Arthur has a crush on him -- that is, until he stumbles across a list of things that Arthur hates about him. Merlin is upset of course, but he pushes aside his feelings to focus on being a better roommate so that Arthur will renew their lease for another year. Most of the things on the list aren’t that hard to correct … So how come Arthur seems to get more and more annoyed as Merlin improves his behavior?

[whumpspicelatte]

Two Steps Back: Terry in "King's Counsel"

Terry's POV to @echo-goes-mmm's Regress

Juno belongs to @echo-goes-aaa / @echo-goes-mmm

Warnings: sickness (fever from magic poisoning), delirium, Terry's canonically horrible self-esteem

Something was wrong. 

Magic inebriation, Wright had told him in private. A seemingly harmless name for a potentially deadly phenomenon. There was too much magic in Juno’s system. While Juno had grown accustomed to trace amounts in his system from the ointments and the curse in Terrance’s blood that had been used to ink that tattoo into Juno’s skin, not to mention atmospheric magic in the air, he still could in no way handle the high saturation needed to save his life. It had become poison to him. Any further magic in his system could prove fatal. 

Terrance had to…sit down, after that. Rest his head in his hands. His puffy eyes still watered. 

The court mage had sealed off Juno’s room so that no magic could get inside and drained it of all atmospheric magic. A week of bedrest would allow Terrance’s boy to drain of the magic in his system thanks to the enchantments, while also letting him recover from the exhaustion of his body being forced into overdrive to so thoroughly heal those injuries in such a short amount of time. 

None of this was told to Juno. The young man was of Timorsia, born and raised; there, magic was all but reserved solely for war and conquest. It would only make him panic.

…Terrance probably should have taken that into consideration before bringing in his court mage along with his medics. 

Damn it. 

At least, so long as they were careful, Juno should be safe by the end of the week. He just needed rest, and to stay in that room. No magic. None at all. 

So Terrance had to wear gloves when he went in to take care of Juno. 

As petty as it was, he didn’t like them. Even though he knew it was for the best. Even though he still made himself wear them, because they were for the best. He wouldn’t put Juno’s health in danger just because he didn’t like wearing these gloves while touching Juno. 

He didn’t like the distance they imposed between the two of them. 

But if this would make sure Juno could rise back to full form from that body on the bed, hollowed out by exhaustion, sweat clinging to those flushed cheeks…

The fever had started only two days in. “A natural reaction,” Wright had told him. “Just the body cycling out the excess magic. Burning through it, as it were.” An unfortunate metaphor; now all Terrance could think of was fire burning his boy from the inside out, eating away at everything until all that would be left was a hollow husk of paper-thin skin and charred ashes and bones, tanzanite stones resting in empty eye sockets. 

“Food and water,” Wright reminded him. “He’s going to need plenty of food and water to sweat this out.”

Food and water. He could do that. 

Juno whimpered, face scrunching up, and Terrance’s heart squeezed. He paused mid-feeding to gently run his knuckles over Juno’s cheek, the way that always had made his boy’s lashes flutter and body melt before. Had always helped his boy relax. Help his boy know he was safe. 

Instead, Juno flinched. 

Terrance’s knuckles hovered over that pale, clammy skin. 

Slowly, he drew away, and his boy relaxed, throat bobbing beneath a delicate, unenchanted collar of ribbons and lace, the pearls dripping from it rising and falling with the Adam’s apple. It had been the only clothing-adjacent thing they’d been able to purify of all magic contamination. Just the blankets alone had been a struggle. 

It took everything he had not to yank his gloves off and throw them into the nearby wall. 

He quietly fed Juno a mulberry, and did his best not to pay attention to the claws spearing his lungs as those ocean-slits filled with tears. A whimper trickled free, and Terrance’s fingertips flinched, unnoticed. 

When his boy began to cry, little hiccups struggling to stay as silent as they could, he closed his eyes before they could blur. 

Food and water. 

He picked up the waterskin and gently began to trickle water down his boy’s throat. 

He could do that. 

<><><>

The fever worsened. Wright had warned him of delirium. Of how Juno might be unable to recognize anyone. How his boy may behave somewhat erratically. How he might not be able to think clearly. 

Such as trying to get off the bed when he couldn’t even hold a feather between his fingers. 

Terrance set the tray of fresh fruit and fish and warm honey-ginger tea, all prepared the Tismorian way, down on the bedside table harder than he should have, making the glass shiver. “Juno,” he rasped, head already pounding from the even heavier duties that came with getting rid of most his council for thinly veiled treason under other pretenses. His remaining Minister and the Duchess did their best to help, but they could only do so much. Already, the court was jockeying to fill the power vaccuum left in the wake of the six removed advisors. 

It was almost enough to make him regret his decision to have them taken from their posts, warded off with the reminder of why he’d done it every time he saw his boy like… like this. 

His boy, who was on the verge of tipping right out of the bed and cracking open his skull. 

“Juno, no!” Terrance shot forward, gloved hand pushing his boy down as gently as possible. Regret shot through him at the young man promptly bursting into tears. His boy…

Why was it that all Terrance seemed able to do was make his boy cry?

“Juno,” he croaked, shaky fingers coming up to brush away those tears with dabs of his gloved knuckles as he propped his boy up on the pillows, making sure Juno was as comfortable as he could make him. “Please, don’t cry. What do you need?”

Before now, Juno and him had figured out ways to understand each other through actions for them both as much as words and hums from Terrance and soft little noises and gestures from Juno. But now, all the feverish boy could do was sob into his pillows, unable to even lift his own head. 

“I think I should teach you some sign,” Terrance mumbled, feeling stupid for not thinking of that beforehand, just because they had seemed not to need it. How isolated had Juno felt for the lack of it? “Or some writing. Or something.”

Terrance didn’t know what the fever had warped his words into, because then Juno began to thrash. 

All he could do was gently hold his boy still enough to not crack his skull open against the headboard or bedside table. Until Juno sank back against the pillows, hollowed out and empty all over again. Dull eyes looked off into distance. Terrance swallowed around the lump in his throat, head pounding. 

He deserved the pain. Deserved the throbbing ache. Deserved how it hurt.

He knew it was a likely useless endeavour with Juno left in this state, but Terrance still busied himself with trying to talk through the alphabet and simple flash cards he’d once used with his niece when Florence had a hard time remembering words as a toddler, all drained of all echos of magic still otherwise clinging to the paper. All Juno did was make his head loll away. Terrance hoped that the white noise of his voice, at least, might help. Somehow. 

When Juno’s eyes fluttered shut, breathing evening out in sleep, Terrance let himself fall silent. Let himself set down the flashcards, rest his face in his hands and weep. Let himself be weak. 

Terrance was a selfish, impatient, useless man. And it burned. 

He wanted his boy back.

[witchofthesouls]

I love the "humans into Cybertronians" trope, so we should have more work about the weirdness that's humanity, especially as an animal, and how it translates into their Cybertronian frame.

I mean, Earth is very much a Death Planet/Space Australia goes really well with the "Unicron is Earth" subplot. Might as well lean really into it.

Like tolerance to toxins and disease, so it's not just a wider range of possible substances to consume but even capable of figuring out how to prepare toxic ingredients into edible dishes that won't kill other Cybertronians as well as greater resistance towards certain pathogens as infectious disease a massive driving force when it comes to evolution. I think it would be fascinating to explore the effects of the genetic mutations transferring over, like how the very genes that increased survival with bubonic plague (Black Death) is capable of withstanding of the Cybertronian-equivalent, Rust Plague or Cosmic Rust. Funny enough, those mutations that allow that resistance to plague are also associated with developing autoimmune diseases such as Crohn's disease and rheumatoid arthritis.

So now, more potential storylines for disabilities and how they're perceived between humans and Cybertronians, especially how each side approaches it.

Transformation capabilities are incredibly important to them. It's deeply entwined in their cultural/societal framework, so a cyberformed!human with no T-cog is the disability to them.

Look at the massive difference between Ultra Magnus losing a hand versus Starscream and Bumblebee losing their T-cogs; physical disabilities have workarounds or even straight-up fixes as long there are enough resources (Breakdown's eyepatch and Ultra Magnus' claw).

It doesn't matter the training or capabilities. Agent Fowler's military record and June Darby's medical experience would be considered secondary as they're severely handicapped and more vulnerable compared to them. Then there are other angles to utilize of the biological and cultural differences, especially with the popular fandom idea of sparklings and canon Functionism, so would it really be a huge surprise if those cyberformed!humans were coddled or infantilized since humans barely last a single year in a Cybertronian lifetime? That has to be beyond frustrating on so many levels.

And vice versa, like imagine a humanized Megatron gets taken out by celiac disease or being severely lactose intolerant?

[aftgficrec]

keeping my fingers crossed (maybe you'll take the long way home) by Talls

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47776711

this was written so well with such a crack-y premise. i adore the writing and interpretation.

also Kevin is a talking donkey

Who could resist Kevin the talking donkey?

The fandom clearly agrees with you, we’ve had a submission for this previously (find it here). - S

keeping my fingers crossed (maybe you’ll take the long way home) by Talls [Rated T, 22089 words, complete, 2023]

In which Andrew is very concerned about his swamp, Neil is a prince with a secret, and Kevin is a talking donkey

or

In which two lonely souls realize that they are not quite as monstrous as they previously believed, and Kevin is a talking donkey

tw: violence, tw: blood

[raayllum]

when viren said "because you're too good for dark magic now?" and when callum said "because it's wrong?" like i'm chewing drywall

[hows-itgoagain]

[there are some mashle manga spoilers in here!!!!!]

i think somewhere out there there’s a world where mashle had slightly better writing, where there were more female characters who did more things and had more personality, where events had consequences and deaths remained true, where it took itself a little bit more seriously

and i say this coming from a place of love, because i ADORE mashle, and i understand that it’s a comedy manga, but being a comedy doesn’t excuse it’s lackluster female writing and disregard for how things would affect people and their world.

if lemon could actually fight or even had a backstory, if there were even ONE female villain other than love, if sophina or tsurara did more

if domina stayed dead, if anyone else significant died, if wahlberg’s injury was kept, if finn was at all affected by carpaccio, or lance by epidem, if innozero didn’t reverse EVERYTHING at the last second. i understand the want for a happy ending but it feels so boring to do that, no? would it not be better to have a happy ending while still having consequences? to make it more whole and still bittersweet in a sense?

and i know i’ve talked about this before. i know i complain about it a lot. but i will continue to. mashle could have been something INCREDIBLE. it doesn’t matter that it’s comedy. i hold mashle to such a high standard in my mind because i hold it to gintama’s standard, which is also action/comedy. and i get that gintama is SIGNIFICANTLY longer, but that doesn’t mean that automatically makes it better. it’s the writing that makes gintama better. the fact that it takes itself seriously when it needs to. that characters die. that consequences exist. that everyone has equal opportunity to be written well, even a character whose ENTIRE PLOT was to be a fucking star wars parody.

i understand that saying this stuff over and over again won’t do anything and there’s no point to it. that it’s useless complaining. but i want to make it known that, while i adore mashle, it has it’s flaws.

it’s not like i’m gonna go out of my way and rewrite mashle to make it what it’s not. that’s disrespectful and unnecessary and far too tedious. but, like, my point kind of boils down to, mashle had such great potential, and i hope that with this, SOMEONE who’s maybe making a little story with their ocs thinks it over a bit more and utilizes it’s potential and everything it’s capable of, you know?

[lakelewisia]

Her sketchbook posts were very popular online, though she always found herself a bit confused by the reactions to her studies of animals in their natural habitats. Eventually, she started posting little progress videos as well, which got tagged with the strangest things, like “fantasy,” and “AI generated,” and even “hoax.” She felt sorry for those of her fans who were so city-bound that they had never seen a kelpie or a mothman in the wild, or those who couldn’t identify even a comparatively common suburban jackalope when shown one on camera.