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[mcytrecursive]

how to show your heart on your sleeve

After the events of how to growl and bare your teeth by Odaigahara, Pearl begins to learn, with the unintentional help of Scar and Grian, that she is not unloveable.

Part of @mcytrecursive made for @destinys-dragon

Words: 1131

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Pearl curled around her hand, glaring at it like that would make the burn any less painful. She hardly felt it was fair that she was burned. How was she supposed to remember that she couldn’t just grab the kettle off the fire without a rag, it’s not like she’s used one in over two years; probably longer since she’s heated it over an open fire instead of a furnace. 

She had just wanted to get the tea ready for the three of them before Scar and Grian came back from the nearby town. She had stayed to cook and hunt, happy to once again traverse the forest.

She even found a few of her wolves again. It was clear that the pack had thinned, and she mourned the loss of some of her girls, but she had found Tilly again. The silver wolf was thinner than she remember, and the eyes had aged from their light green to a swampy yellow, but it was her Tilly alright. 

Grian had been wary of the newest addition to their travel party, but Scar had fallen in love in an instant, cooing over the wolf like she was a little puppy and not the terrifying hunter she was. Pearl had to agree though, Tilly was about as adorable as a puppy. Sweet like one too, when she wasn’t mid-hunt. 

Her head poked up as she heard rustling in the woods and the now familiar tones of Grian and Scar. They were once again arguing and she couldn’t help smile as she picked out a few words. Not even two weeks after their grand escape, just a two towns over, and Scar was already starting a scam. They weren’t even out of the Lonely Kingdoms yet, for goodness sakes! She’d have to hear what this was about. 

“Ah! There she is,” Scar exclaimed as they came out the bush into their little clearing of a campsite. “Pearlo, you just have to settle this debate we’re having.”

“It’s not a debate, Scar. You want us to do something stupid, and I’m telling you not to,” Grian replied with a heavy sigh. 

Scar tutted, setting down his bag by the fallen log they had dragged over before setting himself down on top of it. “See, Pearlo, I want to– What happened to your hand?” he asked mid sentence, brows furrowing.

“Oh this?” Pearl asked and waved her hand out, much to fast for either soulmate to see, before tucking it back under her crossed arm. She grimaced as the burn brushed against the fabric of her shirt, “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a burn. Scott will– Or… no. Huh, I guess it’ll just heal on it’s own eventually then. Unrelated question, how long do burns heal without potions?”

Grian sighed then, setting his own bag and beginning to dig through it. “Okay, crazy lady, let’s see it.” 

“See what? I’m fine ,” She insisted, drawing out the ‘i’. She stood, Tilly sitting up to watch her, and used her uninjured hand to grab the potholder off to the side. She grabbed the kettle off the fire properly this time, “See! I boiled water. For tea! You guys like tea, right?” 

Grian didn’t even look up from his bag, just continuing to pull out medical supplies. Scar gave her a soft look, walking over and setting a gentle hand on her arm. He moved her arm to set the kettle back down. “Let’s have tea after. We don’t need to be soulbound to know that you’re hurting.” 

She blinked up at him in quiet surprise, something warm exploding in her chest. There was no shame or anger in Scar’s gaze, just his usual kind smile. She left a growing lump in her throat as she glanced over to Grian. She expected annoyance from him, he was annoyed with everything the two of them did if he wasn’t actively participating in it himself, buy instead he was contently organizing their meager supplies. He was going to waste bandages and medicine on her . 

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She muttered softly, “You– You guys don’t need to help me, y’know. I’m not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me, really. Probably.” 

She would follow these two fellas wherever they wanted to go, for as long as they tolerated her. She half thought they would have gotten tired of her by now, but they hadn’t shooed her off like a dog that begged for too many scraps just yet. Instead, they acted like they actually wanted her around. Like she wasn’t a nuisance they kept around for the sake of convenience. Though, she couldn’t figure out what would ever be convenient about keeping around a broken soulbound and her feral wolf would be. 

“You’re our friend Pearl, we’re fixing you up cause we want to,” Scar answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” She said, dumbfounded. She doesn’t think she’s had someone just want to do something for her, just cause, since– since even before she ran from Scott. 

Ah, and there were the waterworks. 

Scar’s eyes widened in surprise and he immediately squished her face between his hands, “OH no. No. No. Why tears? Why crying? Grian, why is our Pearlypop crying?” 

She could hear Grian groan loudly from the other side of the campsite, “I don’t know, Scar! What did you say to her?” 

“I just said we wanted to fix her up and she started crying!” Scar exclaimed, letting go of Pearl’s face so he could push her towards his soulmate. “G, fix it! Fix her!” 

Pearl couldn’t help it, beginning to giggle through the tears. Something in her was tearing apart: a wadded up ball of stress she hadn’t realized was sitting in her chest was being torn apart bit by bit with every sob and laugh she had while listening to the two squabble.

This. This is what she wanted when she left. She had thought she had wanted carefreeness of the woods. She thought she wanted the biting winters over palace walls. 

Scar sat her down on the log and Grian began the careful administration of salve onto her burns and bandages around her hand. He made cutting remarks about how weak she was for a weird little witch as he did so. Tilly slipped beside her, nosing at Grian’s arm and he let her, only stiffening up a bit. Scar held her free hand and cooed over her, wiping her tears and promising her first dips of all the fresh fruits and vegetables they had brought back with them. 

She wanted this. She wanted company and friendship and, most of all, she wanted people who cared for her. She wanted love, and she finally had it.

[mcytrecursive]

(obsession) why can't i leave

on: quackity and schlatt and a home that mauls you

created for @marrow-and-bone as part of @mcytrecursive

inspired by When the Sunlight Dies

@wormbus-art (x) | "Inferiority complex" - @tapeworrmart | @screenshotsofdespair (x) | "vengeful" - Richie Guzmán (@99centmenu) | "Do Not Bring Him Water" - Caitlin Scarano | “The Night There” - Mahmoud Darwish | "always together" - Franco Anselmi | "tension" - @glaciallis | "love is not always song, but the swelling" - Athena Nassar | New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001 - Czeslaw Miłosz

[mcytrecursive]

cracks in a golden mirror

He blinked down at his robes, there was a growing wine-dark splotch, a matching one on his thigh. He couldn’t feel it. He was bleeding. He was bleeding black, and it was growing, and he could only feel the freezing cold of it. Cleo gasped, “That’s not–” He was withering. Pearl was withering.

Part of @mcytrecursive! This is inspired by Odaigahara's how to growl and bare your teeth, it takes place during Pearl's withering scene and you'll likely need to read the original to understand the context.

Words: 1514

Content Warnings: Blood and gore, Near death experience

He stood before be could think better of it. The chill hitting against his thigh and shoulder were stronger than any winter wind. Something was wrong with Pearl. This wasn’t the constant hunger pains he tried quelling with too many banquets for the last year. This wasn’t the familiar freeze of snow or the pinches of thorns and wild scratches he had endured the year before that. This was something deeper. This was something slipping under his skin like thick, black oil. 

“Scott?” Cleo questioned, slowly standing up beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, the one that was still warm, “You okay?” 

“Something–” He started, his hand moved to touch his shoulder, to point to where the sudden chill was creeping along his skin. The fabric was wet. 

He blinked down at his robes, there was a growing wine-dark splotch, a matching one on his thigh. He couldn’t feel it. He was bleeding. He was bleeding black , and it was growing, and he could only feel the freezing cold of it.

Cleo gasped, “That’s not–” 

He was withering. Pearl was withering. 

Cleo shoved his shoulder forward, his leg slamming into the edge of his throne, the ache dulled in comparison of the horror seeping through him as he used Cleo’s momentum to start the sprint towards the medic wing. Cleo on his tail. 

He couldn’t feel the pain, the effect moving too quickly (it was so fast, how was it so fast) for his nerves to process, but he could see it, in just the corner of his eye. The shorts sleeves of his robe, for the warm summer air, did nothing to hide the magic now dipping past his elbow. 

Scott had seen a wither skull before, if only once, the blackened bone flaked to the touch in papery ashes. Something in him had assumed the same would happen to a person when hit with withering, that everything would flake off bit by bit, like petals in the wind. He had thought withering would look rather pretty in its destruction. 

This was not pretty. It was sludge, blood and muscles were blackening and congealing in rapid clumps. A chunk of his shoulder slipped down his arm, it splattered on the palace tile with a wet sound. His boot was filling with blood, his sock soaking in it. 

He turned the corner, clipping it with his shoulder. His foot slipped out from under him, hitting the ground hard. He could feel the muscles of his leg jostle loose, slipping down the skin. Disgust hit him like a brick and he retched as he pulled himself to his knees. 

Cleo yanked him up by the arm, “No. No stopping now.” Her voice was panicked and high, like it was her that was dying instead of him. 

She helped him the rest of the way, swinging the door open at the end of the hall. The medic gasped at the sight of him but they were quick to grab a potion and shove it into his hands, immediately turning to grab another. He took the lip of the bottle into his mouth, drinking it down in one gulp. 

Nothing happened. 

He grappled for another potion. 

He could vaguely hear the medic asking Cleo what had happened as he took another and another. There was some half-explanation over his head about how it must of been his soulbound. No one was saying her name. Under the sick of the situation the embers of guilt he had flared to live once again. He would deal with that later. If they survived this that is. 

Another potion, and another. It wasn’t healing a thing, each red potion was just holding the withering for a second. A regen then another followed by another healing and what he thought was a strength and a healing and–

A single second without a potion and he realized there was the growing warmth of pure magic in his throat and stomach, it was prinkling like pins and needles before covering the still living muscles with a warm blanket. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a potion, it was wrong . But, it meant Pearl was healing. She wasn’t letting them die. This hadn’t be a suicide. If he ever saw her again he– well he really just hoped he would get the chance to see her again.

A potion dropped at his feet, slashing over his leg. It stinged for the first time. It was working, whatever Pearl was doing, it was working.

Then hot iron. His leg, his shoulder, his dilapidated muscles, they were touching hot iron. They were catching on fire. The nerves were piecing themselves back together by the centimeter. Blood vessels and muscles pulsing to a rhythm that couldn’t be his heartbeat on account that it was going too fast . 

A weakness potion was splashed on the ground, soaking his limbs. For just a moment he was blissfully numb. 

His legs give out from under him, knees hitting the stone tile with a crack. He thinks the withered one snapped out of place. Cleo’s hold on his arm went from comforting to a panicked grip, the flames of his muscles back in an instant. She hoisted him up and onto a cot.  

Another potion bottle was pushed into his mouth, this one sickening sweet and thick with melon. Finally. Finally everything started to knit back together properly .

More than just that, every little ache and pain, every sore and bruise he had recounted to Cleo, were fading away as well. The heart beats in his chest were fading to one. 

The medic fed him another potion and another, each one washing away every trace of Pearl from his body. He was suddenly too warm, too light. The angry gnawing of hunger and grit of dirt in joints and bruises along his jaw he had long since learned to just cover with make up– They were gone. She was gone . 

For a moment, just a split second, he wished she had just let them die. 

Then the relief hit, a mountain off his shoulders. For the first time in two years he felt truly full, felt truly clean, felt truly free. Tears pricked at his eyes and he waved the medic off, no longer in need of the potions.

He began pulling his robes off and sighing in relief at the unblemished skin. He used the already ruined fabric to wipe away the rest of the blood, tossing the soiled robes to the ground. He traced his fingers over light freckles, smiling softly. No scars, no bruises, not a spot. There was still blood though. 

“Scott, you alright?” Cleo asked, taking his hand. 

He nodded, squeezing her hand lightly, “Yes. We do need to talk. Privately. After I take a bath.”

“Do you think it’s best to leave the medic right now ?” Cleo replied, glancing at the soiled robes, “We don’t know if she–” 

Scott stood, neither leg creaking or twinging in pain, he felt… good. “That’s part of the reason I want to talk with you privately. I have just a feeling I’ll be alright.” 

Cleo didn’t look convinced, but they had been friends, allies, and chosen soulmates for far too long for her not to trust his words. 

He left the medic to head to his bed chambers, passing by maids that were already cleaning up the gore from the halls. Cleo walked by his side. Both kept their heads held high, not daring to show more weakness than they already had from this little display. There would be gossip they would have to quell and witnesses to silence, they’d have to work quickly to keep this under wraps. After he bathed of course; his boot squelched with each step. 

There was lightness in his limbs. The sores and aches he had been carrying were lifted off him, it was a blessing he never thought he’d have. There was no longer a need to worry of another person’s carelessness, of her crazy whims. He was free of a selfish soulbound. 

He felt he should feel some sort of guilt for this whole thing. A part of him did, he wasn’t so cruel. He felt guilt that this had been the outcome of years apart; that he was never truly able to reconnect with her. He couldn’t be the soulmate she stayed for and that he couldn’t be the one to follow her.

There would be time, later, when he spoke softly to Cleo in their chambers, to be sad. There was remorse and guilt and grieve to feel, and it would crash around him in the later hours, when the foreign feeling of a missing heart beat was too light on his chest. There would be a quiet (and unrealistic) wish to find Pearl, and beg to understand, to know what had happened this day. 

For now, however, he smiled and strided. He would laugh in the bath as blood washed away and he would feel clean, perfectly clean for the first time in years. Clean of everything.

[mcytrecursive]

Dr. Blaze, like all good supervillains, has a nemesis. One that he hates, of course. The Canary is always meddling in his plans to be evil after all! Supervillains don't like their nemeses. Except, for some reason, no one believes him that he despies the guy! Sure the Canary takes him seriously when no one else does and laughs at his jokes and has these bright brown eyes that light up when he figures out how to escape Tango's traps and… and Tango might, just maybe, like the Canary more than he thought. Well, now he has a new problem: confessing those feelings.

Participated in @mcytrecursive event and wrote this for @aistandardcherry. It was lovingly inspired by @onawhimsicot's Tangotek Evil Incorporated, and so if you haven't read Tangotek Evil Incorporated yet it is an absolute must!

[mcytrecursive]

At least, be human / Don't Be.

your shining bodies by chrysalizzm | neon genesis evangelion | evangelion oppo ace2 x eva smartphone commercial | a cruel angel's thesis

a webweave for @chrysalizzm's truly excellent dsmp/nge fic your shining bodies, for @honeyblockm for @mcytrecursive! go give the original fic a read, it's brutal and beautiful and keeps me up at night

[mcytrecursive]

fools who run their mouths off...

...wind up dead?

Written for the @mcytrecursive exchange as a gift for @antimony-medusa & inspired by SilverWing15's Its Free Son!

synopsis: It's time for the young god of death, Philza, to meet his people. But his Nether greeting doesn't exactly go as planned. Can the god who controls death also be the god who saves a life? And, in the process... can he make a friend?

notable tags: technoblade & philza, first meetings, hurt/comfort, sacrifice, blood, aged-down characters

word count: 1,781

status: complete (for now)

This exchange was so much fun!!

[mcytrecursive]

summary doesn't matter it's an art post with no words. Anyway, my gift for menacingWitch for the @mcytrecursive exchange!

id in alt text

[mcytrecursive]

"Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand"

Work 3/3 for the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024, go to @mcytrecursive to see other recursed works :D

This is from @theminecraftbee 's fic, solving counting sheep (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48664648/chapters/122757739)

[mcytrecursive]

Karl laughs, then hiccups. He crawls over and molds himself into Quackity’s side. The cool weight of him is grounding. “I was lying when I said Tina was my only best friend,” Karl says. “It’s just that you’re special.” Quackity’s stomach flips. He tells himself it’s the wine, or the end of the world. “You’re special too.” “What are we going to do?” “We’re gonna tell Sapnap,” Quackity says. Alcohol emboldens him. His resolve steels. “I promised him I would. Then we’re gonna—fucking, save the world, I guess.”   (the host of a cosmic horror, the harbinger of the apocalypse, and a guy who's failing chemistry try to stop the end of the world. what's the punchline?)

[written for @honeyblockm, as part of @mcytrecursive, based on @rebelpeas's stellar fic shrimp colors! I adore cosmic horror and I adore karlnapity, so I truly had the best time writing this fic. thank you, yen, for giving me the chance to write it, and I hope you enjoyed!!]

[mcytrecursive]

we’ll meet again (1771 words) by ALiteral_Ghost, MossWizard Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP, Empires SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: GeminiTay/Lizzie | LDShadowLady (Video Blogging RPF), GeminiTay & Pearl | PearlescentMoon, GeminiTay & ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: GeminiTay (Video Blogging RPF), Lizzie | LDShadowLady (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents Summary: Gem drives home from the club and thinks about her relationship with Lizzie. Maybe a little too much. - If luck is in my favor, this will hopefully be a three chapter fic covering a post-somebody i can miss Glizzie. If not, well, bon appetite. This fanfiction was written as a part of the @mcytrecursive gift exchange, as a gift for @just-illegal-art

[mcytrecursive]

an anxious-avoidant asymptote || on wanting to be wanted, a body that's also a soul, and being broken open

a collage for rob_robin's sunk cost fallacy, made for @ollie-oxen-free for the @mcytrecursive exchange

The Devil - Mintaii | Obelisk & Metronome | Heaven Will Be Mine (Rift in the earth, Cradle's Graces route) | asoftersea -27 | Heaven Will Be Mine (day 3 chat logs, Saturn POV) | Eansi | Heaven Will Be Mine (Intro, Saturn POV) | Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Pilotpriest - album cover by Kilian Eng | Heaven Will Be Mine (PLASTIC VS. METAL, Celestial Mechanics route) | Heaven Will Be Mine (JOYRIDE KILLJOY) | cola gotouryouta 830 | Heaven Will Be Mine (day 3 chat logs, Saturn POV) | Judgement - The Jessica Hayworth Tarot | Dead Space - Hayden Sherman | Heaven Will Be Mine (Deep dive, Celestial Mechanics route) | Obelisk & Metronome

[mcytrecursive]

like a dead thing, like a promise || wilbur and the bomb that doesn't kill him

a collage for liza forever minelli by @irrealisms, made for @vhstapeworm for the @mcytrecursive exchange

spontaneous combustion - amy meissner | skull of a skeleton with burning cigarette - van gogh | a sign - mark gleason | crush me - quezify | ss suppression - caroline bird | the endless summer - hossein zare | plaques - jenny holzer | burn your house down - nathaniel russell | shitty horoscopes book xi: illuminate - amrit brar | a partial study of cinematic warfare - anthony discenza | how medieval people tried to dance away the plague - angelica alzona | diary of a dissembler 090 | anthropogenic sun - artem chebokha | please see right through all of me - tangerineseed | wall - jakub geltner | nineteen ways of looking at wang wei - eliot weinberger | looking toward home - natalie niblack | snailspng | kate jarvik birch | weeping (lamentacia) - dezider tóth | asoftersea -239 | arcane episode 9: the monster you created | cryptiddart | the basilica of war, from english war work - joseph pennell

[mcytrecursive]

The Tide That Came After

Doc had finally reached the end of his battle. The trial was over, Martyn was safe, and they had finally moved in a house far away from all their problems. Things were good. The past couldn't hurt the mermaid anymore. The first time Doc was faced with memories of the lab, his mind drowned every though. By the time he came out, it was midnight.

I wrote this fic for the @mcytrecursive exchange! It's a gift for Royal_Willow on Ao3, based on @martynsimp69 "there are many downsides to being a marine biologist" (if you haven't read it yet uh, wtf are you doing? Go do that now, go go. You did it? You liked it? What am I asking, of course you did. Now read this.)

[mcytrecursive]

there is a lion in my living room || eret as a hunger games victor; on aftermaths, legacies, and crowns

based on would you walk the green mile and made for @fitmc, for the @mcytrecursive exchange

anatomia humani corporis - gerard de lairesse | bodyscapes - visual scientist | the lion - clementine von radics | screenshotsofdespair | night fireworks - jinta hirayama | starline | le gilet vert - anne-christine roda | asoftersea -76 | purple kisses - scott fraser | nest 05 - jakub geltner | dappermouth | wedding ring concepts - silda | no (2) - louise bourgeois | the trash tarot: strength - 306saint | journal stars - csms-jpg | arthurianum zine marginalia

[mcytrecursive]

Hello :-) I made this for @mcytrecursive The A03 post is here with more information on my thought process while creating.

This is inspired by the fic: in the lost age where the jewels hide by Odaigahara

This was a very unique exchange and I had a lot of fun creating things for it :-)

[mcytrecursive]

Hello :-) I made this for @mcytrecursive The A03 post is here with more information on my thought process while creating.

This is inspired by the fic: in the lost age where the jewels hide by Odaigahara

This was a very unique exchange and I had a lot of fun creating things for it :-)

[mcytrecursive]

the art of assembling and exercising power || on quackity and ladders to the top

made for @marrow-and-bone for the @mcytrecursive exchange

cyani07 | shitty horoscopes book vi: after the fall - amrit brar | the acolytes preparing the altar of the war god, from english war work - joseph pennell | argumate | amrit brar | headaches - sam beck | words 9 - jette clover | under our new data transparency policy - cemeterything | anatomia humani corporis - gerard de lairesse | can you explain the ouroboros - cemeterything | collected studies on the pathology of war gas poisoning - milton c. winternitz | shitty horoscopes book vii: magick - amrit brar | and ten minutes into our journey they asked me do you get angry when you're scared - cemeterything | astrono77153462 | judith larzelere | asoftersea -78 | carroña - javier pérez