#also for anyone worried/concerned: all tags for Pieces are now all the tags that are relevant.

[wetcatspellcaster]

WIP Wednesday!

Working on the fallout of Chapter Seven of Pieces has been super fun :))) we're now onto the first encounter since Power Word Kill.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[twig-tea]

I haven't been posting about it week to week but I have been keeping up with My Love Mix-up (the Thai adaptation) and I'm still sitting with how badly this latest episode (ep7) is sitting with me. I just have to purge this so I can move on. Criticism of the adaptation below [including spoilers through to the end of episode 7 and very vague spoilers for the source material].

I wish these show writers would not try to shoehorn an adapted work into the bubble, because this line they are trying to walk is disturbing. By having an older gay character tell Atom that he shouldn't characterize his relationship as different, it's suggesting that societal norms and social expectations are not real, but are something Atom invented. His fear is treated as a joke and an overreaction, something to overcome, and everything I've heard from Thai people in the real world tell me that is very much not the case. This is such a different message from the original manga and Japanese live action, which were both about having the strength to defend your relationship in front of obstacles and trust the people in your lives who have earned it. There's a huge difference between learning not to live in fear even though there are realistic things to be concerned about, and learning your fear was misguided/not based in reality after all so you can just let it go. Queer kids should not be taught to not trust their instincts about who to trust with their truths.

This is the same mistake GMMTV made with the changes they made to 23.5, and it tells me their writers fundamentally don't understand internalized homophobia. You don't develop internalized homophobia in a homophobia-free bubble--kids are not born with it, it has to be learned. We are taught to hate ourselves by parents, by media, by teachers, by strangers...to set a show in a world where that is not a reality, and then to have characters have those fears anyway, is insulting and dismissive of where those fears come from and how they are based on realistic fears about potential outcomes. Gay kids do lose their families and have their lives blown up over the people they love--that is not a joke or an overdramatic statement.

I am really upset by this. It feels like these shows are saying queer people are foolish and delusional for being afraid. I've had people in real life tell me that my concerns were overdramatic before, and I've also seen people badly hurt because they didn't take the threat of homophobia seriously enough. I just...it's not that I worry this will be a model for anyone's behaviour. But this adaptation took a story about characters I could relate to, and changed them so that the show instead instead is invalidating my experience. It feels dehumanizing. In trying to be an escapist piece of media, this show instead became painful for me to watch. I sincerely hope I'm an outlier and other queer folks watching this didn't feel it in the same way, because I don't want other people to be feeling how I'm feeling right now.

I'll be walking away from this one.

@bengiyo I think you mentioned feeling similarly disturbed by this approach in your stray thoughts, so I'm tagging you in case you wanted to add on.

[34saveme34]

IT'S FINALLY HERE !!!!

I recommend reading Sever the Ties before reading this one! As it does have references to it so reading this fic without context might make this fic more non sensical.

warnings: Gore although not explored to an uncomfortable amount, trauma upon trauma, Axol gets brought up in an awful way, I know that Mercy is from Overwatch

It turned out a bit gayer than I thought it would. If you end up having any questions after reading this, don't be afraid to ask :3 I'll try my best to answer you

obligatory @birrdify tag so you can find this beast easy !!

word count:16451

It had been a while since 3 and 4 had their rather emotional adventure. Since then, things have been better. 3 finally let 4 help him more seriously with the café while 4 let 3 help him with his videos. 3 still didn't want to just take help without anything so this was the compromise they reached. The others were peaceful too, 1 and 2 calmly doing their meme research, Meggy, Melony and Tari training together, mainly Tari since Clench appeared. Although he wasn't very fond of that. They had to give him duck pictures every few minutes to comply. He's like a toddler. Saiko was there too, although more passively, just making sure everything was okay. Everything that had been happening lately just had her really worried. Although she didn't show that, she didn't want to worry her friends. And usually when she would show concern, people many times thought she was overreacting.

Luigi was tending to his flower shop like usual, just… Very Peaceful.

Everything was just. A bit too peaceful, very little chaos present, almost worryingly.

4 started thinking about it. It was weird. He searched for Mario and, interestingly, found him in one of the unfinished rooms, watching TV. 

He only managed to find him because a set of extension cords plugged into each other were leading to a room there.

“Mario?” 4 peaked in the room to see only the TV’s light and Mario, anything else that could’ve been there was obscured by the darkness.

“... Yeah?” Mario replied a bit slowly.

“What… What are you doing up here?”

“Watching Tee Vee” Mario said cheerfully. TV made Mario very happy.

“Why here?”

“Nothing distracts me here” 

“Huh, um… alright. I was just worried because you haven't been bothering anyone for a while”

“Awww, SMG4, you miss it?”

“Um-”

“Oh my god, you miss when I mess with you guys! That's so funny” 

“Mario… I guess. I guess I did miss it”

Mario chuckled.

“Sometimes even Mario has to rest you know”

“Yeah, I get that… what are you watching anyways?”

4 asked as he walked beside Mario to see what he was so occupied with. It turned out to be what 4 would guess is a spaghetti themed soap opera, considering the vibes of the scene he saw with pasta in shape of a man and also some in shape of a woman arguing then making out and then arguing again-

“It's very entertaining”

“I… sure see that…”

4 wasn't exactly that big of a fan of such dramatic television. 4 went to leave the room but stopped for a bit.

“Make sure to do something other than watch TV though. Dark rooms…. have their effects…” 

“Okay, mom” Mario dismissed 4.

4 rolled his eyes then finally actually left. Besides, he had a lot of videos to work on with 3. It was kind of interesting working with him like this. Especially that things are really looking up now.

Although Mario wasn’t exactly respectful towards 4, he still took his word. But not to touch grass. He found a show that reminded him of Two Piece.

“Ooooh, Melony would love this!” Mario picked up the TV and ran with it in the direction of Melony. Actually, he wasn’t even running, he was flying like a torpedo. Must be all his pent up energy bursting out of him or something.

He found Melony sleeping. He repeatedly tapped her until she woke up.

“Hmm..? Mario?” she looked at him tired “Do you need something?”

“Mario found a show you might like!!” he slammed down the TV with excitement. The giddiness was kind of rubbing off on Melony. 

“I’ll take a look at it then” she smiled, clapping her hands together. 

Mario took off incredibly fast, which surprised Melony a bit. She thought cardio wasn’t his thing but guess that isn’t always the case after all.

The show was really fun for Melony, truly exploring the depths of fruit romance, in ways that resonated with her so deeply. She wished she could just… absorb it into her. She never saw romance between fruits shown so intimately. With the way they’d hold each other, holding onto each other until the end. Though she was especially sad about a pairing where one of them lost their life to an evil chef. Oh, she awfully hated that chef. She actually kind of resonated with the character that got left lonely. She wished… she could just grab her, pull her out of the screen… Tell her, it won’t be easy but… it’ll pass one day. Everything will be okay. And she also loved the way fruits rotting were depicted. She usually wasn’t quite comfortable with the topic but there was just… something so well done about it here. Slowly seeing your loved one succumb to a different, much more deteriorated life.

The deep excitement she felt about the show slowly put her to sleep. It was odd for her to sleep like that but hey! Sleep is always good.

She found herself in a black void. Though she could feel ground underneath. She breathed in. Breathed out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.

She tried to make out anything in her surroundings. As she walked around, her steps echoed, although it didn’t sound right. The way how even just the sound of her breath would bounce off the walls, then the sound ringing in her ears. She wasn’t exactly the cowardly type but this was starting to freak her out.

Regardless, she marched on, trying to find a way out of whatever she was in. She found a doorway that was blocked by debris. She sighed then thought for a bit… She had her deity powers. She tried to pick up the debris bit by bit but for some reason, even the smallest bits felt infinitely heavy. Even just a dust particle made her sink into the floor, no matter how much she tried. She sat down on the ground. It had been a while since she felt so powerless.  She didn’t think she would find herself digging out such feelings she held. She thought she got rid of them at this point. Though there will always be inevitable things she won’t be able to escape.

She just sat there. Her breath. Echoing. Yet it was so deeply quiet. Way too quiet. Ringing in her ear, the depths of this nothingness she was trapped in. It had been a while since something was threatening to drive her mad this badly. She finally got up, walking in a different direction. Maybe she’ll find the way out that way. Or at least a purpose so she could stop feeling so worthless again. She knew her friends cared but she still couldn’t quite shake off everything she was feeling. Especially after missing out on so much. She was wondering if she felt that way because she had been avoiding new adventures so much. Sleeping away another day or 2, in hopes that tomorrow would be a new day she could finally do something more. 

As she walked, she found a doorway with a beaten up door barely in its place. As she looked at it closer, she noticed blood splatter on it. Some of it looked old… some of it new. She was starting to feel rather anxious. Although she should be strong, the sight of blood always did something to her head. As if reminding her of times she would rather forget about.

She barely thought much more as she opened the door. Hell, to her it almost felt like she was being controlled. As she looked around, a horrific sight filled her view. It was Axol. He tried to speak but…that wouldn’t have been possible, looking at his state. She couldn’t speak either. She couldn’t call out. She didn't want this. She JUST had this image slowly fading from her mind. The time when she had to kill him for the good of everyone. He wanted her to kill him at that point. They both knew there was nothing else they could do. Yet, she would still be often haunted by this scene. A scene only she had to witness. Only she had the burden of having to see the light leave his eyes, to see him go limp, lifeless. And now, it was so clearly in front of her, so deeply visceral. Just as visceral as it was in the moment. She cried, she couldn’t help it. She slowly managed to make herself look away. It was hard to do from everything that was boiling within her then. 

Wait… She couldn’t really be back there. This must just be a nightmare! A really bad one but still, it wasn’t real. She began to walk away from Axol, slowly breathing in and out. After that awful scene, the awful music of the void like rooms were almost welcoming, even if it felt like they wanted to swallow her whole. As she walked, another familiar sound filled her ears. Sounds of drawing with a pencil on paper. As she walked closer to the source, she saw herself, drawing for the manga, Two Piece, which Axol wasn’t able to finish. There were so many crumpled papers scattered around her, her expression tired, focused but emitting a sort of hopelessness. She remembered this… Starting off really wasn’t easy. So many times she just… She just wanted to give up. But with her friends around it was better. She stared at herself for a bit. She wanted to say something.

She placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey… You’ll be fine”

Her tired self stopped, then slowly looked at her. No words escaping her mouth. Yet those eyes showed so much. All the ways she suffered with everything. The amount of work she put into it. 

“I” she started again “...We… We might not make it perfect. But that’s okay. Axol wouldn’t expect that anyways, you know? We… still carried his legacy. That’s what only matters in the end” 

Her tired self teared up and pushed her away, going back to hopelessly scribbling.

“Do you even hear me?? We’ll be fine! I promise! A mediocre manga isn’t the end of the world!”

Her tired self slowly raised her hands, bruised from holding the pencil so tightly and for so long. She stared at her. Her eyes were screaming thousands of words. She knew all of it. All the pain. All the doubt. The tears, the needless bruises she bore through it all. She knew it wasn’t for nothing. But it would be too much for anybody on their own. Maybe even with help. 

With being so invested in her feelings, she only noticed an unfamiliar hand on her forehead when she heard a crack.

She woke up, sweating. She looked around. Just where she was before, with the TV still playing the fruit show. She slowly calmed down. It was finally over. Although the images that the dream left in her brain… She couldn’t bear them alone so… best thing to do is to go outside and tell someone about it. That would usually help her. She got up, fixing her hoodie.

She looked out of the room, seeing Meggy and Tari both resting and Saiko beside the 2, calmly strumming on her guitar. They must’ve been training even after she left. She admired how resilient they both were. Even Tari. After everything she had also been through with everyone, she changed a bit too. To her it felt like inspiration. 

“Hi, girls!” she cheered at the 3. 

All 3 looked her way saying hi back but stopping, all of them looking at her horrified. She felt a bit confused.

“Why are you looking at me so weird? Is… my hair looking weird or-”

“Your… face” Saiko was the only one speaking up.

“My face?” Melony slowly felt her face, from her chin to her forehead, her fingers brushing over her usual features until she felt something weird by her forehead. As she trailed along lines she could feel were like valleys on her face. She rushed to the bathroom, the other 3 running after her, with Saiko at the front of it. 

Melony looked in the mirror, her face was cracked like a mask. Wait… The nightmare… the crack before she woke up. It was starting to make sense. Too bad she wasn’t too happy about that. 

The other 3 finally caught up to her, finally being able to be by her side.

“Melony…” Tari looked like she could cry for Melony. Melony could cry too. She couldn’t take it, so she hugged Tari. Meggy patted her on the back and she got pulled in the hug too. Saiko stood there before Melony locked eyes with her and oops, she was in the hug now too. 

“I- I.. I can use all the comfort right now” she spoke quietly. Saiko understood.

They stood there like that for a while. 

“So…” Saiko started “What… happened?”

“Uh… I… I had a nightmare”

“About?”

“Well… Axol”

All 3 looked at her concerned.

“It’s been a while since he showed up like that in your dreams”

“I know! I don’t know… I don’t know why… Oh and… I heard a crack in my nightmare… so…”

Saiko already looked angry.

“I’ll look around in your room” she left.

The 3 looked after her sadly.

“I didn’t know it was still that bad…” Meggy commented again, feeling kind of guilty, as if it was her fault that Melony had such an awful nightmare.

“I thought it wasn’t either” Melony sounded sad.

Tari leaned on her more, trying to comfort her better.

“I know you were getting better! There must be an explanation for this… I think… This is unusual for you?”

Meggy and Melony shared a look, as they both realised Tari is right.

“We must get to the bottom of this” Meggy piped up, as she left the bathroom, going after Saiko. Tari followed, though stopped in the doorway.

“Are you coming too?”

Melony calmed herself a little, lightly clenching her fists, preparing herself to face whatever may come her way. Then she gave a small nod and followed after Tari. 

They all got to where Melony slept before, the TV still in there, undisturbed for the most part. As there was nothing wrong with it, except for the fact that it was turned off. As Melony was looking at it, it was as if the screen itself was crawling deep into her soul. She wasn’t sure if she felt uncomfortable by it or not. But it was a strong feeling either way.

“What is this TV?” Saiko asked Melony.

“Well, Mario showed me a cool show on it. I actually watched it until I fell asleep”

Saiko looked back and forth between the TV and Melony. Seemingly, Tari was slowly catching on.

“Do you think… the show has something to do with it?” Tari looked at Saiko, lightly cocking her head to the side.

“I would say yeah”

“But the show was so good! I’ve never watched something so nice! It’s probably just the show that made me think of the past but that’s- that’s understandable! It was genuinely nice”

“What kinda show was it?” Tari asked.

“It kind of reminded me of Two Piece actually” she cheered.

“Oh, I love Two Piece! Could we watch it together sometime?” Meggy joined.

Saiko was a bit stupefied as the 3 went on to talk about the show as if there was nothing wrong. She still couldn’t shake off the fact that Melony’s face looked like that. She had to go look for answers. And… She might have had just the right idea…

It had been a few days then, Melony’s face still cracked but it seemed she cared less and less. Everybody else around just- seemed to care less. Especially as everyone seemed to be occupied with shows of their dreams. Meggy with a show with so much action and fighting she only could dream of. With wonderful character development, she was mesmerized. Not only that, the female lead absolutely had her from first sight, perfect role for someone so interesting. Playing the whole part perfectly, trying to survive in a world that tried to get rid of her and turning up victorious against all odds. Tari was watching a cutesy show, it was peaceful but still kind of mature with the way the characters talked. She related to the very real issues the characters had while adoring their adorable designs. They seemed to lead much more normal, relaxed lives than what they’ve been having in SMG4. It almost felt idyllic to her. She was close to just… jumping into the TV to escape everything else. 3 and 4 were too busy with their work to even notice at this point. It seemed, even together they can get a bit carried away. Or maybe flirting during work did them in a bit. And nobody even noticed that Saiko was still gone.

This continued. And only got worse. 3 and 4 only realised when barely any customers were coming in.

“You think we messed up? Do they think this place is bad again?” 3 sounded worried.

“No way, we’ve been doing so well! There must be an explanation” 4 wrapped his arm around 3 to comfort him. As usual, it did sort of work. 

“I say we close up and look around”

“Just what I was thinking!”

They closed the café for the day.They first approached the castle, maybe the crew could know something about what was going on. 

They both entered the castle. It was way too quiet. 

“This is creepy” 3 quietly commented.

4 looked at him, that teasing look in his eyes.

“What’s the whispering for? Are you scared someone else will hear you and know you’re a coward?” he laughed.

3 grabbed 4’s face.

“As if you’re not scared!”

“A bit maybe” 4 laughed. 3 pressed a soft kiss on 4’s lips before moving ahead.

4 was left like a smiling idiot before moving along with 3.

They looked around everywhere, not seeing anybody.

Except… Mario. Mario was watching TV, just like how last time 4 really managed to talk to him. Because of work he didn’t manage to hang out with him as much as he wanted to. 

“Mario! Are you at fault for people disappearing??” 3 barged into the room Mario was watching TV in. It was the same room 4 found him in before.

“Shhh!!” Mario shushes 3.

“Dude! This is serious!” 4 chimed in.

They both got slapped out of the room.

“Mario’s watching TV!! Go away!!”

They both got up, it was quite the landing as Mario slapped them pretty hard. 3 had a devious smile on. 4 looked concerned.

“Hey… 4… I have an idea. But you might not like it”

“Say it anyways”

“We could… unplug the electricity! He can’t watch TV then!”

4 thought about it.

“Well- Damn it, what else can we do anyways, let’s go”

“Heh… didn’t even need to convince you this time”

“I just don’t have a better idea”

3 chuckled. They went down to the basement to turn the electricity off. As they came up, they quickly met with a very distraught Mario. And quickly he also went past them. Screaming something about spaghetti. They followed him to see that he devoured the whole fridge.

“M… Mario?” 4 asked him carefully, he was kinda scared.

Mario saw him and ran out. 3 and 4 ran after him to see him yanking the extension cords with might and devouring the TV whole. 

“Much better” he cooed as he sat on the ground, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“What… What was that Mario?” 4 was in disbelief.

Mario raised one finger then lowered it as he thought.

“I remembered I was very hungry! I couldn’t think! TV tasted kind of weird but it’s fine”

“Sure, man” 3 wasn’t even surprised anymore. Mario just pulls stuff like this.

“So… Mario…. Where are the others?” 4 asked, trying not to freak out as he remembered their original goal when they came into the castle.

“Hmmmm…. Mario doesn’t know…. Let’s look together?”

“Sure, come with” 4 said as he now led the way outside.

Walking around, everywhere was kind of quiet. 

“Oh, sure hope this isn’t like that one time Mario stopped time…” Mario sounded scared.

“We’re still moving, idiot, you didn’t accidentally stop time” 3 replied.

“Yeah, 3’s right”

“You’re only saying that because you’re gay for him….” Mario pouted, looking away, crossing his arms.

“Just because I love him I’m not gonna spare him from the truth”

“You heard him!”

“Hmmmm…” Mario wasn’t convinced.

“Besides, what have you been doing all this time?” 4 questioned Mario.

“Watching TV. Only that really”

“Damn, shut in” 3 laughed.

“I… I felt glued to the screen. So… yeah…” Mario looked away from the 2. 3 felt bad almost immediately.

“Okay dude… I guess it’s not your fault- at least you’re outside now” 3 attempted to apologise.

“You tried” 4 didn’t spare 3 of the truth.

3 rolled his eyes.

Mario suddenly stopped by a window. 3 and 4 stopped too, to see him looking at a TV.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to watch TV again-” 4 was about to freak out on Mario. 

“No no- look” Mario said, pointing at the TV “This is just like the one I had at home!”

The 2 looked at it closely, and recognised it. Not only that, they saw familiar faces on TV. Acting nothing like themselves. Their friends were stuck in shows. 

“That looks like the TV guy’s head who manipulated you” 4 almost shouted with how angry he was at just the sight of the TV.

3 was more calm, at least on the outside. He was more scared if anything. He really didn’t want to see that guy again. 

“That means… that abandoned studio! We… we need to go back there” 4 said.

3 looked uncomfortable.

“Do we… really have to? I mean uh, it’s not like I’m scared but-”

“It’s okay, 3… I believe in us. This is… for all of our friends”

“Our friends… you’re- you’re right but-”

“You’re scared he could take advantage of you again, aren’t you?” Mario pointed at 3.

Both were a bit shocked.

“I… I am” 3 looked at him “How… How did you know?”

Mario twirled around once before finally giving a reply.

“Mario cares about his friends”

3 was a bit flustered by that.

“Aww, you’re still not used to being called a friend! 3 !!!” 4 teased him while hugging him.

“Awww, SMG3!!” Mario joined in on the hugging as well.

“C- Can- Can we just go, please??” 3 cried out. The other 2 laughed as they now got going to that very dreaded place. At least they felt a bit better now.

Just as they were about to go in, even if they likely just. Weren’t allowed to, they got grabbed from behind. 

And, my god… All 3 screamed.

“What- quiet, oh my god” the very mysterious TV man said as he stepped back from the 3.

“What are you doing to our friends? Let them GO??!” 4 was ready to throw hands. He was so furious.

“Hold your horses, SMG4, we didn’t even have a formal introduction yet!”

“Hell if I care, I just want you dead” 4 didn’t look like he was kidding. 

The TV headed man looked unamused. 

“I should’ve expected that…” he reached a finger towards 4, stopping him in his place.

“Now! Might I introduce myself! I’m Mr Puzzles, the head of Puzzlevision, a studio that is on its way to be THE best one. You’re walking on historic grounds”

“This place was a dump not too long ago”

“Oh, you must’ve dreamed that!! And what an awful dream that sounds” Puzzles grinned, a menacing aura emanating from his gaze.

“Wh… What but… you… we… we…”  3 felt scared again. 4  wanted to move so badly to comfort him but couldn’t.

Mario wasn’t sure what to do. He realised, he needed to stop thinking. And so he stopped his needless thoughts and rammed right into Puzzles like a bull. It was so sudden, Puzzles had no way to react.

“Oh why YOU-” 

It was then that Mario realised he got himself into a bit of a pickle. He didn’t have time to think, he launched himself right into the studio.

“YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE” Puzzles ran after Mario, looking so angry he was tearing up from it. 

3 sighed, looking at the still frozen 4. He couldn’t hide it, he felt a bit hopeless. He grabbed 4’s frozen hand with which he was trying to reach for Puzzles. His hand still had the warmth he was very familiar with. At least something to comfort him amongst everything.He only stopped feeling so pensive when he could feel 4 move a finger. He got so excited, he squeezed 4’s hand as he then fell over with him. 3 chuckled, feeling a little stupid, a little embarrassed. 

“Sorry, man” 4 chuckled back as he tried to get up.

“A little more?” 3 held 4 back.

“I appreciate that but- on the ground?”

“Okay okay, fine” 3 looked away as he got up. 

“No need to be embarrassed! I do love your hugs” 

3 sighed as he pulled 4 in for a quick peck on his lips.

“Yea yea but we have bigger things to worry about right now! That TV guy is still definitely chasing Mario”

“Mario! Right! Oh god, I hope he’s okay” 4 ran in, 3 followed after.

“Probably-” as they walked in, the place was in chaos. They looked around, finally finding the 2 with Mario being about to be caught.

“Mario!” 4 cried out when he saw him. Puzzles got distracted, which gave Mario the chance to fight back as he punched Puzzles’s screen. And not lightly at that. The sound of it shattering. It was as if the whole building went silent. Puzzles seemed to stop. It was so quiet, you could hear their breathing.

Puzzles slowly looked back to Mario, holding his own face. His gaze rained on Mario like an avalanche. He wasn’t exactly one to feel intimidated but here he was. It was as if the TV was bleeding pure technicolour. The TV itself still somehow worked, although glitchy. His head twitched. 

3 had enough of watching as he kicked Puzzles in his shin. It distracted him long enough that the 3 of them could escape Puzzles’s grasp. For now.

They ran and hid in a room. It was dark. Not pitch black but pretty dark. As their eyes adjusted, they noticed 3 chairs by each other. It was a bit weird. Mario took a seat without thinking much about it. 

“Mario, you can’t do that!” 4 tried to warn Mario who really didn’t give a single damn. 

“Why can’t I? It’s just a chair!”

3 and 4 were staring at Mario for a bit, nothing seemed to happen.

“Eh, might as well” 3 took another seat.

4 gave into peer pressure, sitting down himself.

“Okay, but we still need to figure out what to do about this guy… But more importantly, how to save our friends.”

“Yeah… I don’t get it. I thought we got rid of him then!” 3 grumbled.

“If anything, he acted as your wingman with how long you took to get together” Mario said rather nonchalantly. 

The 2 stared at him.

“I bet we would’ve realised without him!” 4 felt upset, 3 patted him on the back.

“Yeah! And our confession to each other would’ve been so much better if he didn’t step in!” 3 was upset at the idea that Mario proposed as well.

“Not to my knowledge”

“What do you know anyways?” 3 was agitated.

Mario just grinned so wide, even in the dark it was annoying.

Just as 3 was considering hitting Mario, light appeared in the room, in the form of a TV.

3 and 4 felt rather scared, jumping into each other’s arms, maybe even considering leaving while Mario looked excited.

“Yay TV time!” Mario cheered, as if he wasn’t JUST chased by a TV headed man out to kill him.

3 and 4 sat back, trying to calm down. A film started playing.

As the credits rolled, they recognised some names. Their friends were playing in the movie.

3 and 4 shared a glance while Mario was almost glued to the screen. 

Then the title came up.

…

“The fragmented director”

The scene opened with a montage of a cheerful kid, drawing and getting older over time. Just as the time passed, his drawings were getting better too, more advanced, as if it could escape the screen and get you. Especially because they were animated. The film continued with the now teenager making more and more things. So much of it felt like a reference to something, especially from big movies and shows. 

3 and Mario didn’t quite see it, but 4 was starting to get uncomfortable with how alone the kid seemed to be. Nobody else appeared in the scenes so far, just this kid and his drawings. 4 could relate in his own way. Thinking about all the times he locked himself up to work on things, just as lonely as this character, chosen but still painful loneliness. He was starting to feel it maybe a little too much…

“Dude.. are you crying?” 3 whispered to him.

As 4 took his hand to his face, indeed, tears were streaming down his face. How did he not realise it?

Mario looked at him too, immediately feeling worried for 4 as he leaned on him, trying to give him at least some physical comfort.

“It’s okay… I’m okay… just… a little too relatable”

3 shook his head, holding 4 himself. 4 was trapped in the hold of the 2 people he cared about the most…It was reassuring as he managed to look back at the screen.

The next scene began as the adult version of the once teen entered an office. As the scene continued, it became obvious that he got a job in the animation industry. He was still rather painfully lonely, even if there were people in the background. They were never directly interacting with him.

As the scene went on, he seemed to have more and more workload on his desk. His hand was shaking, his eyes not focused, with eyebags. He was overworked. He couldn’t stand it. It was obvious. 

The scene ended with him finally clocking out and heading home. 

4 was starting to feel weird about the relation of the title to the actual contents of the movie. This guy was nowhere near to being at such a high position, neither did he seem fragmented. It gave him a bad feeling. 

It was late at night when the scene opened again. The man couldn’t sleep. He got up and went outside. The night looked peaceful, everything looked serene. The sky was just as pretty as ever.

The man looked up at the sky, as if wishing for something, then he went inside. 

He seemed to think for a bit, before getting out a box full of DVDs of movies he could watch. As he was searching, he didn’t hear it. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t know what was coming. It was loud, sudden. Fatal. It ripped his head right off, whatever it was. The scene was dark enough that you wouldn’t be able to see too much detail, just enough to make out what happened. It left 4 stunned, but 3 seemed to take it worse as he noticeably hugged him tighter when the scene happened.

The scene slowly closed with slowly zooming in on the TV, kind of damaged yet for some reason it still seemed to be on and flickering.

The scene went dark, then it opened in the studio the guy worked at. It seemed the workplace was more alive. With some people chatting on a break, others working on stuff together, helping each other. Although it wasn’t corporate grade efficient, people were definitely having more fun.

Slowly, as the scene panned from everyone working, it seemed to go to one door. A closed door. The door slowly opened. As if for a split second it looked bloody everywhere, the red mixing with a familiar technicolour mixed within, making the scene pretty yet still gruesome. However the scene went back to normal, as if nothing was ever out of the ordinary. 

The door revealed the all too familiar Mr Puzzles sitting behind the desk in a rather comfortable chair, directly looking at the camera. He was smiling, although it started to feel more threatening. 

The scene switched back to the dark, red scene. Puzzles was holding a guy, limp. His expression and the amount of blood on him seemed to indicate that he killed the man. There was just enough detail on there to see that the dead man was dressed in formal attire. It seemed similar to what Puzzles was wearing, as if to indicate the idea that he took his place. The screen suddenly went black. 

Then the outside of the studio was shown. Time seemed to have passed, as the text “A few years later” showed up on the screen. The studio was much bigger than what it seemed to be before. It looked like Puzzles brought the place to success. Just as someone with a gun just barely managed to appear on the side of the frame, the scene changed, being on the inside, full of very happy workers. Maybe too happy. Uncanny happy. But they were working.

The scene then switched to a smug Mr Puzzles, looking at something. The scene then switched to what he was looking at, which seemed to be a list on a computer with other studios’ names crossed out. It kind of looked like a hit list for competition in a way.

 But just then. Gunshot. Screaming. And bam, the atmosphere changed. The environment coated red, with bodies littered everywhere, mercilessly. The figure that showed up in the frame before walked by, just as mysterious as before. Walking till they reached an all too familiar office. Though this time, it wasn’t Puzzles’s doing that everywhere was covered in blood. Perhaps the movie was just foreshadowing this. Because it was hard to deny that the scenes when 3 and 4 thought about it - Mario was busy thinking about spaghetti at the sight of the colour red - were way too similar for it to be a coincidence. 

The door opens again. Puzzles looked terrified but not shocked. It was almost like he was expecting this to happen. 

“I’m doing this for everyone” the chilling text read on the screen, oddly enough it was centered. Behind it the gun was slowly raised at Puzzles, who didn’t seem to do anything about it. He was expecting it for sure. 

The screen went dark as soon as the gun was fired. Then a familiar scene showed up. With 3 and 4 when they were in the ruins of the studio. There wasn’t any audio but it was obvious they were being gay. Mario teasingly pointed at the screen, making both 3 and 4 roll their eyes.

However, after they were out from the crumbling building, once they were gone, a hand reached out from the ruins. A very familiar hand at this point. And that was where it ended. Although an abrupt ending, they could sort of start to guess what happened after this.

4 wished he could beat everything that’s left alive in him at this point. He was really tired of this guy. Although the movie had him kind of confused. How did he come back to life? What was even the thing that killed him? And… How did he acquire anti meme energy?

He hated coming back to this same point that had his head in the clouds, clouds that compared to the worst storms. He did get headaches from thinking about it sometimes. He was too curious yet he couldn’t figure it out… The Godbox was no more. They destroyed it. Wasn’t that the only place where anti memes would occur? It didn’t make any sense. And yet he tried and struggled for an answer either way to no avail. But it felt like he was missing something. Like a missing fragment of a puzzle that just wouldn’t complete.

He looked to 3, seemingly with a similar reaction. 3 looked back at him. While first with confusion, his expression heavily changed when he realised.

“We brought this bitch back to life!!”

“What?” 4 was as confused as ever. Clueless idiot.

“Our meme energy? I think… I don’t know…” 3 looked down, not quite sure now himself either.

“Hmmm” Mario joined in the convo “Maybe SMG1 and 2 could help?” 

“Wow, smart!... From Mario. What a day” 3 laughed. 4 laughed too, maybe looking at 3 a bit too strongly.

Mario rolled his eyes at the gays, getting up from the chair.

“We don’t have all day… besides” Mario patted his tummy “Mario is about to crave some mad spaghetti”

3 and 4 exchanged glances, before they got up and walked to the door as well, cautiously opening it. Nothing seemed to be around. Nobody. Not a soul. So empty their tiny breaths could echo. 

They left the room, walking out in the chaos Mario left. This felt… too easy… Though, they still didn’t know what happened to their friends. Only thing 4 noticed was they sometimes showed up in the background of that peculiar movie. They weren’t exactly in the focus so it took him a bit to realise that they were appearing from time to time. 

Just as they were about to walk out of the door, Puzzles appeared again. His screen was fixed. It was quite fast for being so damaged.

“Mario can kick you again!!” Mario piped up “I’ll beat your ass”

Puzzles flicked his hand and stopped Mario in place.

He walked up to the other 2 as he shoved Mario out of the way.

“Enough of him, I wanted to offer you 2 something” his now well known menacing gaze came back.

“What?? No, I don’t want anything from you!!” 4 could care less.

“Really now? Not even your friends?” Puzzles laughed.

“Our… our friends”

“You’re a sick freak, I hope you know that” 3 tried to comfort 4 while staring daggers.

“I’ve been told, yes… but… my deal for you, SMG4”

4 stayed silent.

“You see… I’ve never seen SUCH a strong need for great content as yours. Your will to create… It’s rather marvelous. And I need it. If you joined me… We could make something perfect. I know… I know how long you have been chasing that, even if you don’t tell anybody. I know”

4  looked at him shocked. He couldn’t reply. Puzzles wasn’t wrong.

“Seems I gotcha, didn’t I?” he laughed “Regardless… I was hoping you could join me in this endless endeavor” 

“4…?” 3 looked at 4 worried.

3 didn’t take long getting angry.

“He- He’s not leaving this world behind! I know he enjoys it more when it’s authentic and fun, he doesn’t need you and your artificial concept of perfection”

“Well, just look at him! Don’t you see it in his eyes?” Puzzles leaned closer to 4 “I can see it… that utterly strong urge in him to always prove himself… to prove himself worthy of people’s attention. And I can give that to him, unlike you” 

“I helped him finish the perfect video though”

“And I got him there. I gave him the needed tool to make sure it could even happen in the first place. You 2 don’t even come close to what my tools can do on their own… Imagine how much greater… maybe even both of you would be? Wouldn’t it be great? Finally… achieving perfection, the height of creation… and, leaving behind the times when people didn’t even care about you, SMG3”

Puzzles grinned wide, seeing how he managed to get to the both of them until he got hit hard on his head.

“HUH??” he turned around to see Mario “HOW DID YOU UNFREEZE YOURSELF??”

“Kiss my ass” Mario threw it back before he started running around like crazy. Puzzles could feel something snap in him as he went to chase after him, even if that wasn’t the logical thing to do.

3 and 4 used that time to get away and find 1 and 2 to figure out what’s going on.

It took a while but at least they got away from Puzzles’s grasps.

“3…?”

“Yeah, 4?”

“You… You think Mario will be fine?”

“I… I’m sure. You know he’s strong”

“Yeah but-” 4 stopped “I feel guilty. We just left him there”

3 stopped beside 4, slightly annoyed.

“Maybe… we can lessen his suffering if we speed up and try to get to SMG1 and 2 as fast as possible!” 3 was rather snarky but it worked, as 4 shook his head then looked up to the sky, hope sparking within him.

“You’re right”

“Of course I am, now let’s get going, you lovable loser”

4 laughed at the name before he hurried along.

They got into the city. It was rather empty. No buses even going around. Cars left unattended. 3 already had his villainous look come up on his face.

“4, we gotta steal a car, dude”

“No… Not today, 3. We’ve gotta get to them without committing several crimes along the way.”

3 rolled his eyes.

They looked around more. Waited around. Genuinely, everywhere was empty.

“Okay… we’ll steal a car”

3 immediately chose one that he had been eying for a bit and got into the driver seat, speedrunning hacking it so it can be driven without a key. 4 just took the shotgun seat with a tired sigh.

“Got it!” 3 cheered.

“Alright, just start driving or who knows what will happen to Mario”

“Already ahead of you!”

And they sped off. No cops anyways so 3 wasn’t respecting any of the rules of the road. That much was expected though.

They got there pretty quickly considering there was nobody to chase them either for speeding.

They got out and knocked on 1 and 2’s door in their apartment which they had to sadly break into. There wasn’t anyone there to stop them anyways.

An exhausted 1 opened the door, who looked at them weird for a second before feeling relieved.

“Thank god you 2 are okay! Come in” he motioned for them to go inside.

Inside they saw 2 being greatly buried in research. It seemed they were looking for something. Saiko was there as well, doing her part in research as well. Though she looked more exhausted than the other 2.

“...Saiko? You’re okay?” 4 felt surprised.

She took a bit to look away from the book she was trying to get through.

“Okay is an overstatement”

“She’s been looking for a way to help Melony” 1 added context.

“What happened to her?” 4 asked.

“You didn’t see? Her face cracked, and from what I found… It might not be so great. But I… I’ve been looking either way. I wish I could help her”

“Geez… 4, maybe we’ve overdone the whole uh…” 3 turned to 4.

“We’ve been way too busy… we barely realised what was happening… How long have you been here?”

“About… a few days?”

“8 days and counting” 1 said before going back to searching himself. 

“Well… 3 and I figured something out… And it might not look so great”

“Oh? A new lead is probably what we need right now” 2 crawled out of the books then yawned. Although he seemed intent to listen either way.

“So… I’m pretty sure it’s our fault…”

“What?” 1 looked up surprised “What did you do?”

“You remember that big amount of energy we caused when we uh… mended our guardian bond?”

“...Oh”

“The TV that had been haunting us used it to come back to life”

“It seems that was his plan all along” 3 commented “What an insidious freak… kinda envious in a sense”

4 looked at him, unamused.

“Anyways” 4 continued “I don’t know if I mentioned it before but… I’m starting to feel more and more scared about the idea that he had access to anti meme energy”

“Yeah… that shouldn’t be possible. We destroyed the Godbox!” 2, although tired, was still very adamant about that.

“At least we thought it seems…” 1 said.

Everyone looked at him.

“But we saw it blow up!” 4 joined.

“But you said it yourself. And both of you felt anti meme energy so…. you would know, no?” 

4 wanted to combat it with something but he couldn’t.

“I just don’t… I don’t get it… I thought we destroyed it”

“Wait…” 3 thought for a bit “We didn’t destroy it… it was only blown up”

“Isn’t… that the same thing?”

“No! You see… explosions don’t destroy anything in a meaningful way… they tear things apart. If you exploded right now, we would still have the material you were made of!”

“... You want me to blow up?” 4 looked sad.

“No, you idiot” 3 chuckled “I just brought it up as an example. But if you continue that way…” 3 winked at 4 before getting back to the issue at hand. 4 understood the implications and became rather flustered.

“So you’re saying…” 1 seemed to catch on “fragments of the Godbox could be still out there?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying”

“Oh no…” 2 seemed to start panicking a little.

“Oh no indeed” 4 added on. He didn’t seem any better.

“We would… love to go right away but” 1 yawned “Well you know…”

Saiko already seemed to lean against the wall as a book slipped out from her grasp.

“Mhmm” she seemed to agree with the unspoken need to just pass out right about then.

“I don’t know… will Mario hold out until then?” 4 thought out loud, which made 1 and 2 go wide eyed despite their god awful sleepiness.

“What… What?” 1 questioned.

“We… only managed to get away because of Mario distracting the insane TV headed guy” 3 confessed, it felt heavy either way.

“Oh no..”

“Do we… Do we trust Mario? We… can’t go back alone” 4 proposed, although he didn’t feel good about it.

“I… I’m afraid yes” 1 felt just as bad about it. Everyone did. Mario didn’t deserve this.

They all decided to go rest up for today, they wouldn’t be quite as useful this tired anyways. 

Although the guest room was taken, there was still a measly couch for 3 and 4. Saiko offered to switch but the 2 declined, saying she needs the best rest possible. It was great to feel cared for. She would’ve felt bad if she declined at that point.

Although 1, 2 and Saiko were quickly all asleep in their respectful sleeping places, 3 and 4 had a harder time.

4 laid on top of 3, it was at least a nice feeling to be close like this. 3 was  petting 4’s head, which 4 laid on 3’s chest. 

“Are you able to sleep?” 3 asked him softly.

4 raised his head up.

“I’m trying to…”

“I’m worried too, 4…”

“I just hope he’ll be okay”

“We’ll make sure of it, okay? I promise” 3 held 4’s face in an attempt to comfort him. 4 scooted a little closer to 3’s face to give him a short kiss.

“Okay” 4 smiled.

“Now sleep, blue, a long day is ahead of us tomorrow… as if we never have big evil to fight… we should take a vacation at some point”

4 chuckled at the suggestion.

“You’re right”

They finally laid down for good, managing to sort of fall asleep.

Mario didn’t have such a great time with Puzzles. The man was chasing him endlessly and was trying to trap him in some sort of substance. The whole area around the studio was covered in it. They both felt tired and yet Puzzles persisted, seemingly angrier and angrier with every strike he attempted to throw Mario’s way. His aim was definitely getting worse. But he got so tired, he raised both of his hands up together and in a downwards motion made enough appear to cover the place with it. Mario wasn’t able to run anymore. He got sucked right in. But Puzzles did so too.

Then, Mario found himself in a dark void.

“Am I dead?” he screamed as he got up “Is this hell??”

“Shut up, heathen” Puzzles didn’t take his behaviour well “You’re being too loud for my taste”

“Am I in hell??” Mario whisper shouted.

Puzzles rolled his eyes.

“No. I actually accidentally trapped both of us” he sighed “I have to be trapped with YOU of all people” 

“You don’t like Mario and his sexiness, huh, TV man?”

“You PUNCHED in my screen??”

“You lived? Haha, cope seethe” 

“YoouUUUU” he got up again, going for Mario’s throat.

Mario tried to punch his screen again, though he couldn’t quite reach. In a moment of desperation, he bit down on Puzzles’s hand as hard as he could, making him yelp in pain, yanking his hand away.

“You ANIMAL”

“Rawwr” Mario looked ready to fight again as he lunged at Puzzles.

They fought around for a while, until both felt tired enough to collapse. Kind of weird how they ended up beside each other. Looking up into the endless void was… somehow calming. Even for Mario. He almost forgot he was stuck in some of the worst situations he ever got into.

“Why did you steal my friends again, TV man?” Mario asked, turning to Puzzles. He seemed to be genuinely curious.

It took Puzzles by surprise.

“Oh? Well… I wanted to make my studio even larger so I can have the biggest and best studio in existence”

“What’s the point of that?”

“Wha… What? Are you kidding? Being accomplished like that? It’s the best thing anyone could have happen in their lives!”

Mario stared at him and slapped him.

Puzzles once again angry, he got up, trying to tackle him. This man annoyed him so goddamn much. Mario evaded him and tried to fight back but he was failing at hurting Puzzles as well. It was almost like they were syncing up in the worst possible way. Missing and dodging in harmony.

“Are you happy?” the question sounded from Mario’s mouth, echoing in Puzzles’s mind.

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

“Why are you asking me shit like this? I thought you were a bumbling idiot”

“Not right now. Are you happy, Mr Puzzles?”

“Oh… Oh! I get it now!” Puzzles got up and turned away from Mario “Your personality is inconsistent! That’s why my powers weren’t working on you! All along, your odd character PROTECTED YOU”

Puzzles whipped around, the anger was kind of familiar for Mario at this point. Another fight, another feeling of exhaustion kicking in. Even the fight felt familiar. Maybe it was just the weird atmosphere of this dark void but he felt sort of less worried now.

Once again, they ended up lying beside each other. 

“You didn’t answer my question” Mario sounded calm.

“And I…. won’t ever”

Mario sighed. They both stayed silent for a while.

Mario wasn’t the one to usually think but he did find the behaviour weird.

“You gave up on killing me pretty fast I’ll say” Mario joked. Puzzles looked at him unamused, no verbal reaction.

After resting enough, Puzzles sat up. He kind of felt hopeless in this silence. 

“You know what, Mario?” he looked to him “I’m not happy”

“Thought so” Mario sat up. 

“Do you… want to know why?” 

“I’m bored anyways”

“Well, you’ve… seen my movie… you know…”

“I know?”

“There’s something inside me that shouldn’t be” he raised his hand to his neck, gently brushing his fingers just above his collarbones. 

Mario only now seemed to catch on. It took him this long to realise that whatever crashed into Puzzles’s living place that night was actually inside him.

“Heh, there’s lot of things inside me as well that shouldn’t be”

“…What?”

“Dumpster”

Puzzles looked at him horrified then chuckled.

“You’re truly a unique kind of a man, Mario”

“I knooow… very sexy and awesome” 

Puzzles rolled his eyes at Mario’s grand modesty. He was starting to find it weird how he was actually starting to have peace with having to be stuck with Mario. Hell, it was a little worrying. 

He never felt this way… Like, enjoying someone’s company? He only ever loved working on his beautiful creations, people were like filler to his life. What changed? Or is Mario really… this special? He didn’t know and never did being unsure in his life make him so conflicted. He always liked to make sure he knew everything, he thought he went into  his plan knowing everything at this point. His plan was flawless. And yet Mario could walk in and ruin it all. And take away the perfection he wanted so much but… In the end, Mario would be right. He doubted it would make him happy. In a weird and twisted way, he felt alright with everything being ruined.

“So… how long are we gonna be stuck here, TV dude?” Mario asked, though seemingly not worried.

“I’m… not sure myself”

“Oh… OH?? Are we stuck here forever?? What have you done?” Mario screamed, jumping up, grabbing Puzzles by the straps of his pants. 

Something hit differently about Mario’s grasp on him as he felt a sharp pain like that fateful day. He screamed as he pushed Mario away.

Mario was confused then saw the state he put him in. Although he tortured his friends, it was still hard to not feel bad for him.

“TV guy…?”

He was in so much pain he couldn’t speak. He slowly laid down, very carefully to not hurt himself even more. Mario sat beside him. His curiosity… He slowly reached out and touched that same place.

Puzzles winced in pain. He didn’t get why. 

He pressed his hand against Puzzles’s collarbone fully.

While Puzzles was in utterly diabolical pain, Mario got reminded of something. This energy he felt. He saw this before. Images flashed in his brain, remembering everything from the time they went out there… Outside of their universe. The anti meme energy. He thought he wouldn’t need to face this traumatic memory again but… Guess he was wrong. Things now started to make sense to him. Although he didn’t know how it was possible. He didn’t need to know that to see that it was. 

He didn’t know what was driving his body but he pressed harder. With both of his hands now. Puzzles screaming didn’t deter him. When he tried to push him away, he sat on his arms, making him ultimately vulnerable to Mario. He didn’t know how to feel. He pushed and pushed until he could reach inside. It was nothing like he thought it would be. Puzzles was warm like a person but not quite of the same consistency. Until he felt something hard within him that didn’t quite fit inside. The memories he had now felt even more real. It sure made him struggle. Even he stopped for a second, especially how it added onto it. Making it more terrifying than it already was. Giving him images of a world where he lost 3 and 4 to a force way beyond him. That was scary to him.

He shook his head. He knew what he had to do. He pulled again. Pulled until what was inside Puzzles seemed to loosen from its place. Puzzles fainted by this point, probably from the unbearable pain. Even though he wasn’t quite human anymore, pain was still a weakness of his.

He finally pulled it out, black blood escaping Puzzles body as he did. Mario felt a little weird now… Did he just kill a man? He wasn’t sure.

He was now alone in the void, with the wretched fragment in his hand, echoing past nightmares in his ears.

His act settled in even more now as he pressed his hands against the wound, not really knowing what to do. It only soaked his hands even more. He desperately grasped into him, just trying to think of something, anything. He didn’t want to be left alone. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Puzzles but it’s much worse without him. That was something he knew for sure. He couldn’t lose him now, no matter what.

As he desperately grasped, light appeared, in the form of dim white strings, seemingly loosely closing up the wound. It wasn’t perfect but the bleeding was getting less intense. Mario didn’t know he could do that. He stared for a bit, not really knowing where to put it.

He sighed, not thinking about it further. He just didn’t want to up his kill count… And he didn’t want to be lonely himself either. He could always get so caught up being around people all the time that he forgot how it feels to be alone. And it wasn’t a good feeling. Though the bleeding stopping made him feel a bit better as he lied down, closing his eyes.

It felt like forever passed as he kind of just fell asleep beside Puzzles. Just because he had the weirdest moment of his life didn’t mean he couldn’t go to sleep with ease. He woke up to movement beside Puzzles as he was lightly clinging to him in his sleep.

“Huh… I’m… not dead yet?” Puzzles spoke, his voice was weak. He looked at Mario. He was finding a fondness he didn’t know he could have for someone.

“Nhggh… Nope… Mario fixed you up with his… white thing”

“Wh… White thing?” Puzzles was confused.

Mario pointed to his wound. The strings were still visible.

“Oh you… you saved me?”

Mario shrugged.

“Mario didn’t know he could do that”

Puzzles chuckled.

“Very well. Thank you though. I owe you”

Mario smiled at him.

“Well, getting us out of here would be great”

“Mhmm… I don’t know how to still” Puzzles frowned.

Mario patted him on the back.

“At least this thing is out of your body” he showed him the fragment.

“Oh- Oh right” he stared at it “What… is this again?”

“Mario’s not the best at explaining things. It is evil though”

“I do agree… it did kinda kill me there for a second” he chuckled

Mario chuckled too.

“You know, Mario… Isn’t this… weird?”

“What is?”

“I don’t feel like getting rid of you anymore”

“Well if you got rid of Mario the world would end so I’m glad” he grinned as if he didn’t just drop information on Puzzles that kinda escaped him before.

“The world would end?”

“You see, Mario is the avatar and if he gets killed for good, the world falls apart”

“A… Avatar?”

“I’ll ask SMG1 and 2 to drop the lore on you” 

“Oookay” Puzzles was a bit confused but he could wait. He would wait all the time needed to have answers if he needed to. It wasn’t the first time waiting rewarded him. He knew patience made greatness.

“By the way…. Mario’s wondering how you’re feeling now?” he looked at him, feeling a bit bad.

“I feel… free in a way. Mind’s less foggy and all that. Thanks, Mario”

“Hehe, I saved the day!”

“I’m still in pain though” he looked away.

“Damn…”

He grabbed Mario’s hand gently.

“It’s probably just the fact that you opened my body without any anesthetics. Which you wouldn’t have been able to get anyways”

“Heh… Mario sees your point” Mario squeezed his hand then thought, as if the brain cells in his empty head decided to align so well this time, he could have a genius idea “I’ve got an idea, Mr TV, but you have to listen to my instructions”

It had been a bit since last night 1, 2, 3, 4 and Saiko talked. Everyone was awake, preparing for their mission. Although 3 and 4 were a bit sore from the couch. It really wasn’t made for sleeping. 

“So…what’s the plan?” 2 asked.

“Well uh…” 4 thought for a bit.

3 took a bomb out of his pocket.

“Can I?” he asked with a silly little smile.

“No” 4 said bluntly. He didn’t give a shit.

3 sulked a bit.

“Well, we know it has to do with the Godbox so… we have to go in, prepared to fight it”

“I guess the best we can do is go in and hope?” 4 sounded unsure of himself.

“Get yourself together, 4. I know you can be a coward but now is not the time” Saiko commented, making everyone look “Now is not the time to question your power to stop this, our friends are on the line here… Melony” the last part from her was rather quiet. She always tried to look out for her when she could so knowing this happened right under her nose filled her with a different kind of fury.

“I say we go in and kick ass” she finished her statement.

“Kicking TV ass does sound good” 3 added with a sly smirk on his face.

“Let’s get going then, shall we?” 1 said as he then led everyone out

It was quite the trip. Almost felt like a little road trip. 3 and 4 fell asleep along it, considering they didn’t exactly get the best sleep then.

Saiko was beside them, kind of trying to ignore them. She might have been a bit jealous. She wasn’t able to see any of the girls for a while now. Kind of hard to live like her, standoffish yet lover of touch.

She slowly got used to it. 

“Oh, they fell asleep?” 2 looked back, while 1 was driving.

“Yeah… I guess they didn’t sleep well last night?”

“Probably the couch being uncomfortable to sleep on” 2 rubbed his chin, as if he was thinking strongly about it.

“If it was anything else I’m kicking their asses, I’ll tell you that” 1 added on quietly. 2 giggled while Saiko facepalmed.

They got there, to the wretched studio, which was covered in black goop. Not fully but there was definitely a place where there was a lot more.

[bloo-the-dragon]

I've been seeing some people express concern for Bloodmoon on this post SO i'm going to throw in some extra context and Bloodmoon lore to clear some things up

Honestly i probably should have done this a long time ago BUT ANYWAYS-

The sudden change for them was very.. shocking to put it kindly. A very drastic change but after the initial shock Bloodmoon is very euphoric - Just happy and whimsical and freed because they're in a new form that just feels right even if they havn't fully come to terms as to why yet.

But existential crisis still boils under the surface and it's not til sometime later that it breaks out.

This is Bloodmoon shortly after the transformation -

- cheery, silly, happy. Sun and Moon arnt worried for too long because they seem happy (and in a way they're kind of flattered that their fae friend decided to take a form similar to their own - they've met many kids who dressed up like/wanted to be like the glamrocks afterall so this isnt too odd for them)

This is when the existential crisis/questioning moment really hits home

(happens while they are out too which only quickened it what with anxiety being around people and all)

Now the reason they changed in the first was because they realised they had fallen in love (platonically) with Sun and Moon. Their shapeshifting specifically is very emotional based and will trigger usually when high emotion is felt. This is the biggest physical change they have ever had however, and the most impactful.

And why did they turn red like the Bloodmoon you might wonder? Well 1. Lunar Eclipse, or Eclipse vibes specifically and 2. Have you ever heard of the red string? ~

But yeah right after the change they would be too caught up in the euphoria of feeling whole and comfortable in a new body and identity to really acknowledge the panic beneath the surface. And the crisis kicks in over time because they had been very much the non-partnering type before and never saw theirself ever truly falling for anyone (again even in a platonic sense)

They would talk to Sun and Moon after this, and while feelings would not be outright admitted there would absolutely be understanding there and acceptance which is all they really need. They become qpp's over time after that.

Also i mentioned in the tags of my last post that this is basically irreversable and thats because the only way it could be reversed is if they stopped loving Sun and Moon (which ofc they could never)

They loved them enough to make them part of theirself - and in a way Sun and Moon do the same when they get tails installed to match (I'm a sentimental sap and tails are fun)

They're robots too so one thing that they have in common with a fae is they can also alter their forms to an extent ;D tho in this case they just wanted to have tails so they could be more like Bloodmoon.

Both parties adopting pieces of each other into their respective selves/identities out of love shared for each other.

The sillies

[munsonslove]

Now that’s it’s officially October, I would like to request Eddie seeing his best friend (who he has a crush on and who never really wears skirts or dresses) in a spooky short Halloween costume with thigh highs or something and it drives him wild. Turns out she also has a crush on him and softdom!reader x sub!Eddie smut ensues (but no mommy kink pls lol) 🎃 tysm

Her Angel, His Devil

(18+ only)

a/n: thank you for the request!! i hope you like it <3 & happy spooky season everyone!

summary: It's Halloween, and you and Eddie have plans to attend a friend's party. When he sees that your costume is a little more revealing than you usually wear, the plans for the night change.

wordcount: 3.6k

tags/warnings: fem!softdom!reader, sub!eddie, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, praise kink, teasing, use of pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart), p in v penetration, L bomb dropped, no use of y/n

Eddie likes Halloween just fine, but he’s more interested in eating candy while watching scary movies (and maybe playing a prank or two on the kids) than he is in dressing up. He hasn’t been trick-or-treating since moving in with his uncle, and his friends were never the type to throw costume parties. Knowing this doesn’t stop you from asking him to accompany you to your friend’s Halloween party, and as always he agrees to your wishes. You met this girl through your job, and you know she’s only working until her dad agrees to unfreeze her inheritance. Her family is loaded, her parents just let her know they won’t be home the night of the 31st, and she is not to have anyone over. So basically, it’s going to be a rager.

Due to the party being so short notice and the fact that you and Eddie were not originally planning on doing anything in particular for the holiday, your costumes were forced to be very last minute. The stores were wiped clean of anything good, so it looked like simple and homemade was the way to go. Luckily, your friend came in clutch by offering some leftover pieces from a couple’s costume she did with her ex, but the only parts left were a headband with devil horns and some angel wings that can be worn like a backpack. Obviously, your first instinct is to let Eddie be the devil, but when you two are ransacking her closet to try and figure out what you’re going to wear, she comes across a tiny little red dress. You usually opted for a more modest look, but seeing as this would be your first Halloween since moving out, you decided to abuse the freedom of not having to hear any remarks from your family about the amount of skin showing.

You didn’t wear dresses or skirts often. In fact, although he’s been your best friend for years you don’t think Eddie has ever really seen you in a dress. And this particular one doesn’t have very much fabric. Those concerns didn’t deter your friend though, as she practically forced you to try it on right then and there. It fell just below the swell of your butt cheeks, and you had to be very careful not to flash her when stepping out of the bathroom. Feeling insecure, you tried to protest and said you would just wear all white and be the angel, but she was already shoving red accessories into your hands. The devil horns, red thigh high stockings, and red heels. Indulging her, you put everything on and turn to face the full length mirror. Admittedly, you looked incredibly sexy. The dress accentuated all of your favorite parts of yourself, and a fantasy of Eddie ripping the dress off of you in a frenzy flashed through your head.

“Don’t worry if anything gets damaged,” your friend says with a wink, and you wonder if she has mind reading powers. “I doubt Eddie’ll be able to keep his paws off you when you show up in this little number,” she finishes with a giggle, smacking you gently on the ass.

Returning the laugh, a sudden surge of confidence comes to you. Maybe you would actually finally make your move after crushing on your best friend for so many years. You call Eddie from her phone and let him know that you handled the costume situation, and to pick you up at 9:00pm the next night wearing a white t-shirt. He doesn’t ask any follow up questions, just agrees and tells you he’ll be there.

Tomorrow, the night of Halloween, he arrives at 9 o’clock on the dot and knocks on your apartment door. Your roommate was actually just leaving as he arrived, so she let him in and told him you were getting ready.

“Look who came exactly on time, in exactly what they were told to wear, only for their date to be running late,” he shouts through your door, smile apparent in his voice.

“Sorry!” you call out in response, “I’m not used to putting on makeup, so it’s taking longer than I expected it to.”

“Makeup?” he asks, thinking back to when he last saw you wearing any. It had to be years ago, maybe before high school. “Like face paint? What’re our costumes?”

“No, not face paint. Eyeliner and blush and stuff. My friend I told you about lent it to me,” you explain. “The rest of your costume is on the kitchen table.”

You hear a short “‘Kay,” then him walking away from your door. After finishing up with the lipstick, you apply one last coat of mascara and give yourself a final glance over. The dress has spaghetti straps with a low cut sweetheart neckline, and is tight up top but flares at the bottom. While it covers all the important bits, the dress is still short no matter what way you look at it, and tugging the fabric down doesn’t help much. Your legs are covered, but only barely, by sheer red stockings that come up to your mid thigh and connect to a garter belt. Dark eye makeup enhances the devilish look, and the added touch of a blood red lip really completes it. You put on the horns with care not to mess up your hair and slip into the pointed pumps (that you’ve spent all day practicing walking in) before exiting the room and sneaking behind Eddie.

He hears you, but doesn’t turn around. In his hands are the fake wings, along with a halo headband that you fashioned out of yellow pipe cleaner. It was very resourceful, if you do say so yourself.

“You know, when all you told me was ‘wear a white t-shirt’ I was expecting a greaser thing. Maybe a little Sandy and Zuko action, since I know I forgot my leather jacket here the last time I was over” he starts, clearly amused by your choice. “But this is really funny. What about me screams ang-”

His joking comes to a halt midway through his sentence when he turns around and finally sees you for the first time that night. His gaze immediately drops to your cleavage, then to your hips, then thighs, then back up to your cleavage. You try to keep the smugness you feel from being overt, but you aren’t sure he’d notice either way.

“Whaddya think?” you ask, holding your arms out by your sides and giving him a little twirl.

He’s silent for a moment, still looking you up and down with his jaw dropped. Eventually, he speaks up. “You look… uh… really nice,” he says, and your face warms at his emphasis on the word ‘really’.

“Are you sure?” you ask, feigning modesty. You can tell from the heat in his expression that he thinks you look a little bit better than ‘nice’. “I feel kinda silly, I don’t usually dress up like this.”

Eddie scoffs, like what you’re saying is ridiculous. “Babe, you look fucking incredible,” he assures you. “I mean- don’t get me wrong- you’re drop dead gorgeous when you’re in sweats and one of my band shirts. But this…” he trails off, once again blatantly checking you out.

A scheme hatches in your brain, and you have a suspicion that it’s already halfway to succeeding. You’ll have to call your coworker later and apologize about never making it to her party, but the result will be so rewarding. Stepping forward, you take the halo and he releases it from his grip without objection. After placing it on his head- the actual band piece being obstructed from view thanks to his curls- you take either of his cheeks in your freshly manicured hands and smile coyly at him.

“My angel,” you whisper, reveling in the way his eyes glued themselves to your lips.

“My devil,” he replies in an almost growl, dropping the wings to the floor before caving and meeting your mouth with his.

This has been a long time coming, and you mentally berated yourself for not pushing him sooner. After years of knowing each other, you might have guessed that he fell around the same time you did, but there was always the doubt and fear of ruining what was already a good thing. If friendship was all you could get with Eddie, then the long nights of wanting more after spending all day with him were worth it just to have him in your life. Now that he’s in your grasp, however, you were never letting go.

“Baby,” he whines against your lips, “Wanted this for so long. You have no idea.”

“I have an inkling,” you say, chuckling as he’s desperately trying to kiss you while simultaneously speaking. It’s cute how needy he became so quickly, and you plan to have fun with that. After only a short kiss and a little peek of skin, you could feel him beginning to harden. Hooking your finger into one of the belt loops on his jeans, you drag him to the open door of your bedroom and he follows wordlessly, smiling dopily the whole way there. His grin grows wider and more sure when you open the drawer to your bedside table and pull out a little foil square.

“Do you want this, baby?” you ask, your own voice surprising you with its sultry tone.

“Yes,” he answers instantly, “So bad, please.” He sounds wrecked already, and you haven’t even touched him. You can already tell he’ll be deliciously pliant under your command.

You smirk before closing the drawer and say one word. “Strip.” 

Biting into the packaging and pulling out the condom, he hurriedly does as you tell him to, starting with the t-shirt then barely avoiding tripping as he kicks off his jeans and boxers. His cock springs up and rests by his belly button the second the elastic passes over it. Something about being fully clothed while he stood before you completely nude (minus the guitar pick necklace, the silly angel halo, and those rings that drive you crazy) made you feel powerful, which made you want to ruin him all the more. You step forward and ready the rubber to be rolled onto him. The latex slides down easily- something both his and your impatience is thankful for- and your hand closes around the base of his cock firmly. You just hold there for a second, enjoying the way he attempts to buck up to receive even a minor amount of friction. His tiny whimpers get somewhat louder until he snaps out of his trance and quiets down, shy about the noises escaping him.

“Don’t hold back those pretty sounds,” you order, kissing up his jaw before taking his earlobe between your teeth.

“It’s embarrassing,” he complains, still biting back moans while trying to fuck himself into your fist.

“It’s not. You wouldn’t be so shy if you knew the effect you had on me,” you whisper into his ear. “My pretty boy makes me feel so loved with his sounds, don’t you wanna make me feel loved?”

“Y- yeah…” he breathes out. His voice is broken and scratchy, and the little gasps of air shoot straight to your core. He’s moaning now- not fully unabashedly, but beautifully nonetheless. “I do, I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time he told you he loved you. After all, you had been best friends for many years, and while you were too scared to be completely open you did make sure to let him know how much he meant to you and how much you cared. However, this declaration of love felt different, for undeniable reasons. The weight of his last statement hung in the air, but he didn’t seem to notice, he was too preoccupied by his desperation for you.

“So perfect for me. My perfect, sweet boy,” you coo at him, and his face brightens. The praise is light and bubbly in his chest, and heightens his sensitivity substantially.

“Please, I need you baby,” he says, his tone as serious as if this were life and death. You briefly consider going easy on him, but the fun of toying with him is too tempting.

“Beg,” you reply simply.

A long, uninterrupted groan leaves him as he throws his head back in frustration. “Please,” he tries again, “Please let me fuck you. I’m dying here.”

“So dramatic,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m gonna give you what you need, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

His disdain at having to wait is obvious, but you know he’ll do as you say anyway. You let go of his dick, causing his eyebrows to upturn in disappointment, but his excitement returns when he follows your instructions to get on the bed. Practically belly flopping onto it, he quickly turns around and lies with his legs spread wide. The sight makes your mouth water and you have to resist devouring him right then and there, still wanting to torture him by going slow.

“Look so pretty doing as you’re told,” you murmur before biting your bottom lip. Eddie squirms, messing up the sheets tautly tucked under the mattress.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments back, tone heavy with the truth he pours into it. Your heart aches at the desire you feel emanating from him. “So beautiful, everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Who knew you’d be such a sweet talker in bed,” you joke. His flattery makes you giddy, but you want to retain the upper hand in this dynamic, so you try to play it off like it’s not affecting you that much.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “Just wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long.”

“It’s okay,” you say, crawling onto the bed and into his lap, “Me too.”

Your clothed pussy makes contact with his thigh. The damp cotton slickens his skin and his nails dig into your sides over the thin fabric of your dress. It doesn’t seem to register to him that his hold is almost too tight, but you’re sure there’ll be light bruises in the shape of his hands on your waist tomorrow (not that you mind at all, the physical reminder will actually be nice). His cock twitches as you softly trail the nail of your pointer finger down his chest. Even through the condom you can tell that it’s an angry shade of red, and the slit is leaking precum. It looks sort of uncomfortable, but that doesn’t stop this view from being the best thing you’ve ever seen. Undoing the hooks on your garter belt, the elastics snap up slightly while your stockings droop a little, still mostly being held in place by the thickness of your thigh. With those out of the way, you’re able to sit up and slide your panties down your legs, and Eddie assists you in pulling them the rest of the way off when you have to fall back on your butt to get them over your knees. He takes advantage of your new position, using it to hover over you as he parts your legs. With your skirt folded up over your stomach, your cunt is on full display to him.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says, his words slurred with lust. The pad of his thumb presses onto your clit and you sigh as he rubs it curiously, his eyes never leaving your blissed out face.

As he circles the tender nub, your need to act out your many years worth of sexual fantasies on him grows stronger. “Eddie, lay down. I wanna ride you.”

Instantly obeying, he lies on his back with his head supported by your many pillows, and untangles his hair from the pipe cleaner halo before tossing it to the side. You swing a leg over his lap to kneel above him, and his cock stands up straight, begging for attention. You can’t wait any longer. Wrapping your fingers around the base once more, you hold as close to his balls as you can manage, and position it at your soaked entrance. The sound he makes when the head comes into contact with your burning hot center is euphoric, and he’s not even inside you yet. You sink onto him slowly, forcing yourself to continue this little act of control that you have going on, despite how badly you just want to take from him what you need. Eddie, on the other hand, is not capable of practicing any discipline and begins thrusting up into you with no warning.

You push down onto him as hard as you can, then pin him there, effectively ceasing his movements. “I didn’t tell you that you could do that,” you say, ignoring his cries of protest. “Don’t you want to be good for me, baby?”

“Y- yes!” he calls out, beads of liquid pooling in the lashes of his closed eyes. “But you feel so fucking good, baby. So good.” Clearly, all of his focus is being used on staying still. His face is scrunched up, and the show of determination is rather adorable. 

“I know, sweet boy, I know,” you whisper comfortingly as you lean forward, his cock fully sheathed inside of you. “It’s good for me too.”

You kiss away his tears before moving on to his pouting lips, then at their corner, then his cheek and down his jaw, until you end up sucking on his neck. The red marks left behind by your lipstick look so cute covering his face and throat, you make a mental note to snap a polaroid before falling asleep. And to be honest, it was really good. The girth and length were the perfect size, and you swear you can feel the little ridges and divots massaging your insides with each shift. Your hips begin softly rocking against him, too slow to grant any real satisfaction.

“Please, please go faster sweetheart. I’m begging. Begging just like you told me to, please,” he whines. It’s bordering on pathetic, which is why how much more it turns you on confuses you. “Stop teasing, baby, please.”

“Teasing?” you say humorously, giggling into his neck. “Is that what I’m doing? I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, baby.”

He and you both know you’re not really all that sorry, but he doesn’t dare call you out on the lie in fear that you’ll prolong the buildup even more. Taking pity, you grind on him harder and faster, before sitting up and placing your hands on his chest. You’re now fully bouncing up and down, and he groans in relief.

“Ffffffuck, sweetheart, thank you,” he sobs. “Thank you, baby, thank you. That’s so good.”

The horned headband starts to slip off from the fast motions, so you rip it from your head and fling it across the room, ignoring the sound of it hitting and knocking over some of the hair care products lent to you from your work friend. Your fingers curl inward and drag down to his ribs, scratching white lines and contorting the images of his tattoos. 

“You feel so good, Eddie,” you moan, “Oh my god. You’re so good.”

“I am?” he asks, and you see the hope and admiration on his face.

“Yes, sweet boy,” you say, and his toothy smile nearly has you tearing up as well. There’s a lot of meaning behind these words for him, and for you as well. “You’re so good. So perfect for me.”

Eddie tries to pull one of the straps of your dress down your arm, but it rips off and swings between the two of you. He tears the other one in the same way, showing no respect for the garment despite knowing it didn’t belong to you, then pulls the top down to reveal your bra. It was a strapless quarter cup to align with the low cut of the neckline while still offering some support, and its red satin matched the color of the dress fabric. His hands massage your chest, and the metal of his rings is cool on your flushed skin.

“Just for you, baby. Only for you,” he whines, his head thrown back and his throat now exposed. A vein on his neck protrudes from his straining, and you fall forward to flatten your tongue against it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you demand between licks. “I want to see my perfect boy cum. Can you do that? Can you show me how pretty you are when you cum for me?”

Before you even finish talking, his hips are stuttering beneath you, and you can feel his dick twitching inside you as he orgasms. You follow shortly behind, biting down on his neck and sucking a hickey right next to his Adam’s apple as you continue fucking him through his climax. He softens inside you, but you want to be mean a tiny bit longer, so you keep riding him until he’s shaking from overstimulation. It’s a lot for you to handle as well, but his whimpers from the pleasure that’s quickly becoming too much to bear are too beautiful to stop.

“Babe, baby, I can’t take anymore,” he cries. “It’s- shit- it’s too good.”

After a couple more pumps, you collapse on his chest and bury your head in his neck. His hair- damp with sweat- tickles your nose, and you rise and fall with him as he catches his breath, inhaling and exhaling. He winds his arms around your middle and squeezes you tight, rubbing one of his hands up and down for a moment before drawing patterns on your back above your bra. You both melt into the bed, and into each other.

“Wow,” he hums into the quietness after you start to feel yourself give into exhaustion, “You are a devil.”

[thesleepy1]

Bun(s) In The Oven

A/N: What am I doing instead of sleeping? A) Working, B) Writing. or C) Waking Lord Cthulhu from his slumber so that he may reclaim the throne. If you guessed B, then you’d be correct! Hahaha, I really do need sleep. And they call me the Sleepy One! Anon Requested. (Also, I haven’t had the time to sit down and watch season three yet, so please no spoilers.) 

Pairings: Eskel x Reader 

Summary: You were supposed to have nine months to prepare. You were counting on those nine months. You were not a procrastinator by any means, but with something as important as having a baby you were going to make good use of all the available time to prepare for the arrival of your new baby. Nine months. Not six. 

Or, “Could you write something for eskel when his significant other is in labour. I don’t know if he’d be chill and prepared or in total panic mode. Either wait I’d like to read it 😂

Word count: 930

Warnings: birth? 

At six months pregnant you were past the point of still coming up with names for your little one and were well into the process of setting up the nursery. In the beginning, there was fear that the baby would not survive. Miscarriages were common in the village you grew up in and a human pregnant with a witcher baby was unprecedented. Anyone pregnant with a witcher baby was unheard of. There was no way of knowing what to expect.

When you and Eskel had first learned of the little seed that was sprouting in you, you both laughed it off as some practical joke. It wasn’t until months later that you realized there was something going on. The bump proved that there wasn’t some prank being played on you. You were well and truly pregnant. 

First there was denial. That was to be expected. 

Then came the acceptance. 

After that it was just full blown panic. 

You were a bard for heaven’s sake. A baby was not on your bucket list. When you had first met Eskel and decided to tag along on his adventures, you did not realize that having a baby along the way was a part of it. 

But after that…? 

It was quite nice. 

Sure it was unexpected and neither you nor Eskel had planned for it, but it really wasn’t a bad thing. The pregnancy didn’t stop you from doing what you loved. You still performed and sang to your heart's content. In some taverns you even made more coin. Some were from concerned onlookers and some were from others who got off at the sight of you. Either way, money was money. 

And Eskel. Dear sweet Eskel. He grew to love you even more than before if that was possible. It was no worry of yours that Eskel didn’t truly love you. He showed it to you each and every day. But after the two of you had gotten over your panic, he became the most doting and kind and loving witcher possible. It could have been sickening if you didn’t enjoy every last moment of it. 

So yes. You were past the point of panic and name searching. With something around thirteen more weeks to go, you were still working on adding things to the nursery. Most of the essentials were there already. Now was just time to decorate and fill the room with as many toys as you possibly can.  No one was going to stop you, least of all Eskel. 

If anyone were looking for the two of you, then they could find you in the nursery happily sewing up another stuffed animal or embroidering yet another piece of  clothing. Eskel could be found doing the same. Despite his large frame, he had such a talent for needle work. 

You were working on turning shorn wool into wool when you suddenly felt a wetness burst from you followed by intense pain. Before you realized what was going on with your body Eskel leapt up from his seat. 

“I need to get a healer,” Eskel announced, his breaths coming in unevenly. “I can’t leave you here alone—someone needs to get the healer. Lambert! Geralt!” 

That was another thing. Eskel’s brothers were there every step of the way. And they were going to be there for this step too, despite its premature timing. 

“Are you sure? I—we still have weeks, don’t we?” you asked him, face grimacing in pain despite your disbelief. “We-we haven’t finished processing the food for stores or-or finished all the clothes—” You were cut off by an unbearable pain flaring from within. “Dear gods, heavens above. The little one is coming. The little one is coming!” 

“Geralt! Lambert! Vesemir!” Eskel called out to his brothers. His voice boomed in the hallways, sounds bouncing off the stone hallways and carrying towards the other witchers in the keep. Before long, they came running to your aide. 

“Healers. We need to go find a healer.” Eskel was firm. He left no room for argument. Lambert rushed out back the way he came. He was the smallest and fastest of the witchers. He would reach the town at the bottom of the mountain first and hurry back with a healer or two. Eskel had to believe that his brother would. 

“Geralt,” Eskel began.

“Anything you need,” Geralt replied. 

What happened next was beyond you. The pain was indescribable. You knew that you would not remember much of the process. At least, that was what the other mothers had told you. They said that the mind would forget so the body continued.

However, right there and then you were unbearably hurt. And you were vocal about it. 

“Great saints above! Get—” you were screaming. It stung the witcher’s ears but you didn’t have a spare thought to care. “Get them out of me!” 

“T-them?”

It was Geralt who faltered at that.

Years later you would all sit around a table topped with a hearty meal. Roasted elk, mashed sweet potatoes, and mead would be overflowing. Altina and Anna would be given cider that had not ripen into the sort that would make them dizzy and drunk. Everyone would laugh at the way that Geralt had stuttered at the prospect of two. 

Eskel would laugh the loudest. For he was the proudest of the fact. He was a father of two beautiful, healthy girls and he couldn’t be happier. 

No one will bring up the fact that Eskel had almost fainted when Anna's head was crowning and the healer was still twenty minutes away.

[queerweewoo]

okay this is very long and mostly just for me to get some stuff of my chest and out of my head therefore anybody tagged pls don't feel as though you have to read it all (like obvs you know you don't have to but you also hopefully know what i mean lol):

so i've had some quite heavy stuff going on in meatspace recently, and then i went to see i saw the tv glow two nights ago which was beyond brilliant but fucked me up entirely on a personal level. then, just to be a bit (read: incredibly) stupid, i for some reason (read: bc i'm a masochist) decided to delve into reading waaaay too many of my first 'eddie losing his shit over christopher leaving/summer of sexuality queer crisis' fics, which i've not dared let myself do before now bc it's all very close to the bone for me i.e. my own queer (trans) crises—yes, plural, they keep coming—and stuff that's not a million miles away from the shit going on with my eldest son (bar kim lol). why tf my brain chose the worse time possible is just another one of life's mysteries (read: i'm just insane [see above]).

(btw my struggling hugely with issues of repression plus my son hating/not hating me aside, THIS FIC is the insanely brilliant piece of art that kicked off the binge. it's from the astonishingly talented @wildehacked and is one of two parts which are possibly the best buddie fics—or even just some of the best fics, period—that i've ever read. seriously, check the tags and if you're a buddie lover and it/they seem like your sort of thing you should 100% go save/read it/them!)

anyways, after all that i'm now just kind of spiralling a bit tbh aha. i'm not fine, not rn, but i will be fine at some point soon sort of thing. like, i'm okay and nobody needs to worry etc i'm just trying to do one if the countless things that i'm absolutely bloody terrible at which is reaching out. but not because i need anything from anybody it's more just for me to be able to say “i'm going through some stuff right now and i might or might not disappear for a while” because i don't usually manage anything at all like that when i'm in the trenches and instead just retreat into my shell and go radio silent—and the thing is, i know some very lovely people who have shown concern when i've done that in the past and i'm therefore trying to be better. friends old and new alike such as @shealynn88 @sharkfish @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @doilooklikepeople @woodchoc-magnum @buddiebeginz i'll absolutely be getting back/chatting to you when i'm able to interact with a bit more—well, when i'm a bit more, i 'spose xp

also tagging lovelies @novemberhush for the usually well-loved procrastination tag game stuff and @inell and @kitteneddiediaz (and possibly @veronae-buddie and @daffi-990?) for the WIP games i've been kindly tagged in but not responded to. thank you and sorry! like, i know it's absolutely fine and nobody really cares about stuff like that, but i'm just very much feeling like i need to say these things right now. and more apologies if there have been tags i've missed from other lovely folks; not being round these parts for 48+hrs = horrendous notifs situation (you know how it is).

on the writing front, i don't know if it's both completely dumb and ridiculous to start this by saying, “hmm, i'm unsure if it's related or not?” but as well as everything else i'm simultaneously having one one those Everything I Have Ever Written Am Writing Or Could Write Is Utter Fucking Dogshit sort of moments (like, i know i'm not a great writer—which is not derogatory and just fact and 100% absolutely fine—but i'm usually at peace with the strange little oneshots i puke out, y'know?) which is yet another reason for me to disappear off here for the time being as i sadly have one of those unhealthy irrational relationships with fandom that's like I Don't Deserve To Be Here If I'm Not Being Useful—which i know is dumb af and i would absolutely try to coax anyone else out of if it were them saying it and not me, but alas poor yorick. thing is, i used to be incredibly prolific in making fanart, for loads of different fandoms, and that too has dwindled considerably over the last year or more (god, is it that long?) therefore it's just a double whammy currently with the writing now also taking a hit. and i know, i know, whomp whomp poor me etc etc i just—i fear whenever i disappear, i won't ever be able to make it back... bleugh horrid lol

obviously i can't seem to be normal about anything ever so i'm sorry if this is a weird way to respond to nothing happening that nobody asked about (there is no 'if'; it absolutely is weird but i'm afraid it is what it is) and i truly don't need anything from anybody, i just think me posting this and saying how i'm feeling will probably be doing me a bit of good. honestly, pls feel free to ignore, this is just cathartic for me. but i guess, at the same time, as well as those things, me being on the spectrum means i'm not skilled at keeping friendships going, which makes me very sad, so this is maybe me voicing those fears in an attempt to combat them becoming a reality? i think? it's just that i've already drifted away from too many lovely people here due to the affects of these things and i'm therefore just—i think i'm just really trying in my own odd little way.

anyways i'm gonna go rewatch some sense8 and sob out my own weight in tears and snot and just keep on keeping on with existential crisis #4793 for the time being until something shifts in me and then i'll be back at some point? yeah, i think that sounds about right.

love you guys big much (one of my son's isms from when he was little) <3

ps just realised i wrote this on my buddie blog and really can't be arsed copying and pasting it over to my main @all-or-nothing-baby... so anybody who was wondering, yeah it's me yer boi cassidy xp also if you read this far you're insane and i love you even more for it <3

[owlespresso]

something to give

—each other In the wake of the events at the vault, you face several new, interpersonal struggles. tags: gore, teeth-related descriptions, blood, memory loss, somewhat of an AU I'm really, horribly proud of how this came out. It's been in the works for months, now. It's somewhat of an AU, and there are some things you may have to piece together on your own.

You grew new teeth, after the Vault.

Only barely cognizant were you of the change, too preoccupied with the desperate scramble after the Archbishop and his horde of inhuman freaks to really notice. You licked the coppery taste from your gums and swallowed, no stranger to the taste of your own blood and viscera. You don’t realize your mouth even hurts until you're spitting hard white onto the icy concrete outside the Forgotten Knight. Three of them, and a smattering of crimson on the worn cobblestone.

They’re orange under the dim lanternlight.

A few passerby linger at the corners of your vision. None approach. They only look, trying to decide if the stranger vomiting teeth onto their street is worth assisting. You look up. Your chin is hot and wet. The blood streaming out of your mouth warms your chin and throat. It’ll cool rapidly, start flaking on the skin if you leave it alone. You lift your head. Brume dwellers tense under your stare. You’re not sure what sort of face you’re making. You’re not even sure what the appropriate face to make is, in this situation.

“Anyone got a rag?” you ask, instead. “I’d like to clean this up.” Because it’s a mess you made, after all.

They help you, but probably because Hilda put in a good word. Or maybe they want to be on the good side of the beast who put the Archbishop in his grave. Maybe they’re excited for what other changes will fall on your head, the rivers of your blood and brain matter enough to sweep away even the sturdiest of Ishgardian’s foundations. At least someone is looking forward to it.

Your teeth are falling out.

Or maybe—maybe being pushed out is a better way to put it.

New bones are stemming from your often shut jaw. No amount of tensing or grinding will whittle them down.

“Are you alright?” Alphinaud looks up at you with big eyes. He repeats your name, incredulous. “There’s—there’s blood all over you—are you injured?” Panic makes his voice reedy and sharp. He’s become more of a mother hen since you came to Ishgard. Guilt is a bitter taste on the back of your tongue. How dare you make him worry about what little he has left.

“I’m fine.” you say, but he’s already grasped you by the sleeve. You let him lead you to the couch, but you don’t sit. You shrug your coat off, glancing pensively at the fine furniture. You haven’t tracked a mess inside the manor, have you? You toss a cursory glance at the floors.

Alphinaud repeats your name with increased urgency. He prises your coat from your shoulders with surprising strength. Fear makes the body stronger.

“I’m fine—”

“You are covered in blood. Please, do not insult both my powers of observation and intelligence in one foul swoop.” He sticks his heels into the ground with an indignant frown. Stubborn and firm. This is the Alphinaud you remember. A brat unaware that he’s too small for the shoes he’s stepped into. Small and stature and loud in voice and long in word. Agonizingly long. His brows are furrowed and his eyes determined, but his lips wobble. You stare at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, and turn away. You walk back into the foyer, glad you haven’t tracked any blood back into the house.

—

“What does it mean when your teeth start falling out?” you drape yourself over the counter. Jannequinard looks concerned, but also flummoxed. 

“Well—I,” he startles and stammers once he realizes you’re expecting an answer, maybe surprised that you’re talking to him at all. “Have you recently suffered blunt force trauma? Perhaps directly to that comely face of yours? My apologies, but this seems like a question for a chirurgeon. Shall I call for one?” He flitters about behind his desk, opening and shutting drawers with increasing urgency. He finds what he’s looking for after the fifth. A linkpearl glints underneath the overhead lighting, gently pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“No. I’m fine now. I didn’t come here to be treated,” you say, and he deflates.

“You could have clarified before I went through such a tizzy looking,” he complains halfheartedly, stowing it away in one of his likely many pockets.

“I came to ask what it means.” you clarify, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

“In a symbolic way, then,” another voice chimes from above. A woman seats her elbows on the railing above, looking down at you with contemplative eyes. The chandelier light glints off the gold and silver of her bangles and bracelets, jewels and motes of fine metal woven into her dark gown. Wealthy. And smart. With green eyes and hair lavender. “I doubt the answers for your sudden… dental losses can be found via divination, but your problem calls me back to a seminar I attended on dream divination. If I recall correctly, losing one’s teeth in a dream is a sign that one has been talking too much—perhaps indulging in excess amounts of gossip.” 

“I see!” Jannequinard pipes up, clapping his hands together. “That’s the brilliant Lady Leveva for you!”

“Thank you,” you say, not eager to listen to him talk more than you have to. You nod respectfully to Lady Leveva and leave. The frigid air blasts you in the face. It doesn’t feel like you learned anything useful.

—

“Did you eat today?” you ask Emmanellain. His eyes go wide with surprise. Your knees are curled to your chest. A woolen blanket rests heavy across your shoulders, a welcome weight. You’re not sure where it came from, or when it chanced to rest upon you, but you’ve tossed part of it over Emmanellain, who squawked like a little chocobo and fussed until it became clear you weren’t going to move it.

“Just did, as a matter of fact! They have the loveliest crowned pies at this little cafe in the Crozier, and the caviar is always freshly-caught!” he chirps, before fixing you with a sly look. His head dips coy to take partial shelter behind a raised shoulder. “Since when did you become so occupied with my day-to-day, old girl? Not that I mind—I’m flattered, really, to receive such special attention from our own Warrior of Light, Savior of Ishgard and the realm of Eorzea aside—hm?”

You hold a hand up to your mouth. A strange, misplaced anger churns nauseous in your gut. Your vision blurs, the rococo pattern on the carpet jumping in doubles. The crackling of the fireplace sounds faraway. Your jaw creaks, bone stretching and splintering, and making room for new growth.

“Old girl?”

You—you hear. There’s a loud cracking. Some vague, instant notion of pain where your mouth should be. It’s still there, isn’t it?

Colors dance behind your eyelids. When had you closed them? When did you start to look away? When did the blood pooled on your tongue begin to taste as plain place as water?

A warm hand cups your shoulder and shakes you.

Emmanellain whimpers your name, this time. His blue eyes are blown wide and watery. He must take after his mother, you think, because he lacks the sharpened features and keen eyes of the count. He’s all round cheeks and soft lines, and he’s saying something.

“answer me, old girl, please! Should I get the chirurgeons—oh, I should, shouldn’t I?” he seems nearly hysterical.

“No. I’m fine.” you say, and he deflates into the sofa.

“Oh Halone! She speaks at last!” he gasps.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!?” he gapes at you. “I believe I should be asking you that! You went silent, which I suppose is par for the course for a dashing, silent hero—but then you curled up like a clam and began to shake! And I have never seen you so much as shiver, old girl, much less quake like a newborn fawn! You must understand my quite-reasonable terror!” Emmanellain runs his fingers through his hair, messing up the already ruffled strands. 

It must have been quite frightening, you think, to have the well-being of someone with your reputation in his hands. Especially because Emmanellain has likely never been trusted with the health of anyone, before. Or anything.

A hand waves in front of your face. You blink. Emmanellain comes back into focus. Ah. You haven’t said anything, yet.

“Sorry.” you mumble, resisting the near reflexive urge to sigh. Emmanellain’s mouth balls up, like he has something to say, but thinks better of it before sinking back into his seat with a sigh.

“Well, as long as you’re quite alright—and you are alright, aren’t you? You can… tell me, if something is amiss. I won’t tell a soul, I swear to you, should you wish it to remain discreet!”

“You? Keep a secret?” you ask, honestly taken aback by the idea.

Emmanellain chokes a little on his own outrage.

“Of course! I’m not some cur who would betray a lady’s sacred trust!” he insists, thoroughly impassioned. “Doubly so if the lady in question is you, who have done so much for—”

“You don’t need to go that far,” you interrupt, suddenly wishing you hadn’t made your doubt known at all.

For all his dramatics, he is being rather sweet. Bumbling personality and penchant for gossip aside, he is tender-hearted. It is no wonder, then, that he so fervently avoids taking the field. A younger you would have derided him for his cowardice. But now, you are glad for it. Glad that he is safe, inside the walls of the city.

“I’m alright, really. Just a lot to think about, these days.” You insist, because you don’t want him to worry.

“As, yes, much indeed!” he nods vigorously. “However, if I may offer a morsel of advice—”

“You may.”

“...Ehem, thank you. Most gracious of you,” he nods, but you get the feeling that he isn’t that grateful. “Thinking is well good and all, but if it’s all you do, then you’re bound to think yourself into a rut. Like all good things, it must be done in moderation. And you, Old Girl, have been indulging in contemplation far more than is healthy.”

“Oh?” you’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you cannot deny your intrigue.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you pacing late into the night!” he points and waggles a disapproving finger at you. Distantly, you think back to hours spent patrolling the halls of the manor, to the times where you have chanced upon the young lord stumbling inside after a night of carousing, sweat stuck to his brow and pink stuck to his cheeks. Four times, you’ve helped him up the stairs and to his room, but never did you realize he was paying much attention to you. He always seemed too sloshed to realize whose shoulder he was leaning on. “I’m surprised you haven’t worn a rut straight into the floor!”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you hope not, lest your pockets suffer the repair costs.

“Not the point, Old Girl! The point is that we need to get you out of the house—for you’re sure to drive yourself mad if left to stew with your thoughts any longer.”

Come to think of it, when was the last time you left the manor for more than just an errand run? You blink, raffling through all recent events, but you come up frustratingly blank.

“What would you suggest, then?” you ask. He beams.

“I am so incredibly chuffed that you asked, Old Girl!” he begins. “Why, I recently stumbled across the most delightful—”

You follow along and nod where you can as he lists off recent places of interest. It’s heartening to see him so lively, though you aren’t sure why he wouldn’t be. The snows may fall and the skies may darken, but all that is par for the course here. Nothing of note has happened. You let the matter lie, just happy to hear him speak.

—

There’s a… concoction next to your breakfast. A noxiously bright, pink fluid trapped in a small, round bottle. Y’shtola insists that you take the draught twice a day. You can’t quite remember when it started. But you always remember the warmth of her hands when she pressed a bottle into your hands, and the low of her lips tersely pressed together. 

It’s strange, and honestly a little worrying to see her so tense. Y’shtola, who knows so much and can be relied upon without question. Which is why you don’t question her.

You feel clearer after you gulp the tonic down, anyways. More energized. To the depths of your soul, you trust Y’shtola to do what’s best for you.

You don’t have the capacity to worry about anything but the looming threat of the Horde, anyways.

—

“You have done too much for us, truly,” Aymeric says, illuminated by soft candlelight. Handsome, unmistakably and unfairly so. You’ve never understood why he isn’t more popular with the delicate noble ladies of the court. Being the archbishop’s son doesn’t stop him from having a face that belongs on a cathedral wall.

“To give so much for a cause that is not your own… I can scarcely comprehend the selflessness.”

“Well. It’s my fight, now,” you would have hoped he understood that now. You lick your spoon clean. The pointed edges of your canines click noisily against the sterling silver. “Ever since you took us in.”

“I…” Aymeric seems at a loss for words, for a moment. He’s staring down at his paperwork, something forlorn on his face. “Of course, but you and yours have gone above and beyond—”

“Blue is your favorite color, isn’t it?” you look at the walls.

“Yes, I am… quite partial to it, I would say,” he blinks several times.

“You must have grown up around a lot of it” you observe, casting a glance. The wallpaper is blue. The tablecloth is blue, most of the fine china on the table in the nearby display cabinet are blue, or accented with it. “Do you think it would be your favorite, even if you didn’t grow up surrounded by it?”

“I suppose I have no way of knowing. Why do you ask, my friend? What troubles you?” There’s a furrow in Aymeric’s brow, meal all but forgotten amongst your conversation. Your fingers drum against the tabletop , gaze sliding down to your plate. Your potatoes are half-eaten, roasted slab of meat untouched. It’s more seasoned than anything else you’ve eaten in the city. They really pulled out all the stops for you.

“Nothing, really. I was just curious. I… want to know more about you.”

An inexplicably tender look crosses the smooth satin of his features. The sharp lines around his eyes gentle, bow of his lips curling into a smile. Unreadable to you. You can only hope that you haven’t irritated or otherwise aggrieved him.

“I would love nothing more,” Aymeric murmured. “So long I have spent occupied by the war and our own politics that I have forgotten what genuine conversation feels like.”

“Really? I thought you would have lots of friends.”

“I am well supported by my fellow knights and backed by several members of the High Houses. Those relationships are mostly borne of respect and mutual gain. I would call them connections, rather than genuine friendships. Hardly anything that can compare to your ties with Lord Haurchefant—”

Your bottom molars crack. Coppery sanguine floods the cavity of your mouth. Streaks your teeth with deep crimson. You’re not sure what you look like, right now. You feel fine, only a distant ache thrumming at the underside of your jaw. Across the table, Aymeric rapidly becomes the palest you have ever seen him. He shoves away from the table and jolts to attention. His lips are moving, but you can hardly hear him above the snapping of bone, the thud of your own pulse.

Your lips part. A mouthful of blood drops onto your lip, mixed with a few odd shards of white clattering onto your plate. The world flitters away from you in steady, floating strokes of black. Fuzzy like billows of smoke at the edges of your vision.

And you’re grateful, in the moment, for your dwindling consciousness. Glad to avoid the embarrassment that would surely flatten you after forcing him to witness something so disgusting.

—

Love takes many forms. The medicine Alphinaud insists you take are bitter, but you have suffered plenty a worse taste. These concoctions, meant to heal the remaining tears and breaks left behind by your new teeth, are also love. The fact that your companions look at you with concern rather than fear is also love. Your molars came in unusually sharp, near instantly. Push the old ones out and onto your trousers before you even realize. It doesn’t frighten you as much as it should. Doesn’t keep you up at night.

These days, you are often soothed to sleep by a gentle, steady pulsing, a quiet ripple in the aether. It comes from another room in the manor, always at your periphery. You would compare it to a ghost if it weren’t so familiar. You don’t read into it too much. 

You keep your head down and your eyes on what’s in front of you.

Alphinaud is in front of you, hands on his hips. He looks terribly constipated, which means he has something to say, but is terribly uncertain of how to say it. Or if it’s the right time to say it. Or if it should be said at all.

You look at him upside down, head on the armrest of a comfy sofa in your quarters.

“Spit it out, already,” you grouse good-naturedly. “Or are you scared of me now that I’m becoming a shark?”

He sighs, taught demeanor breaking with a slump of the shoulders.

“You are most certainly not turning into a shark,” he informs you. You open your mouth. He shushes you with a gloved finger. “Or a piranha. Or any other manner of sharp-toothed beast.”

“So you say,” you take hold of his hand, absentmindedly rolling your thumb over the back of it. The fabric of his gloves is warm and soothing to the touch. Beneath them, his pulse thrums. Soft and alive and quickening. “What’s bothering you, Alphinaud? You’re too quiet these days.”

“I am simply worried for your health, is all,” he murmurs with a sigh, white lashes fluttering to fan against his cheek. Round and small, a testament to his youth. Too young to be so burdened by fear, by worry. “Y’shtola and the others are working hard, and I’ve no doubt they will find a cure in due time, but I feel…”

“I’m sorry,” To be the source of his pain for even a moment is too much. “Don’t fret. I don’t feel the pain. And there probably won’t be any subsequent effects. If anything, I can catch the enemy off guard with a well-timed bite.”

“Your condition is unlike any we have ever seen before—and cannot afford to beg assistance from any of Ishgard’s chirurgeons, given the circumstances of it! If you were to suddenly decline…” he trails off, lips nettled into a deeply pained expression.

You squeeze his hand. “I’m still here.” He swallows and softens. He casts you a pitying look. “Enough.” Your thumb presses just a little harder against the back of his hand. You miss the way his ears tinge pink.

You sit up, wrapping a woolen blanket a little tighter around your shoulders. Artoirel, earlier, gently draped it over your shoulders and kindly asked you to keep warm—and who were you to deny such a sweet, earnest request?

“Come,” you pat the spot next to you, shifting a few pillows out of the way. The brocade shimmers underneath the lamplight. Shiny golds and deep blues that remind you of the wallpaper in Aymeric’s manor. “Sit next to me and draw, won’t you? I want to see more of your pretty pictures.”

And who is he to refuse such a simple and earnest request? You’re changing the subject, but you’ve done it so sweetly and blatantly. That should be enough. Alphinaud isn’t very hard to win over these days. Not as stringent nor as scolding as lovely Y’shtola, who you do not know how you survived without.

“Only if you swear to alert Y’shtola or I should your condition change, or should you notice any… side effects,” he stands firm, crossing his arms. He’s doing his best impression of Estinien, you think, solid and unyielding. There’s a determined gleam in his eyes when you meet them, the downturn of his lips made stubborn. “Or—or if something else troubles you.”

You pause for a moment.

“I accept, on the condition that you draw Lolorito as hysterically hideous as you can manage.”

He shakes his head in a vain effort to hide his smile. Your heart feels warm.

“If that is truly what it will take. Wait just a moment,” he heads for the stairs. His supplies are stowed away in his room.

“Several of them!” you call after him, hanging over the back of the couch. “So we can hang them all over the city!”

He reaches the mezzanine and disappears into the shadows of an adjoining hall. All if quiet. 

“I make no such promises!” his voice echoes back down the stairs and into the lounge.

—

They’re pretty sure they know where Thancred is, narrowed down to a thin crescent of land within the Dravanian Forelands. You are, of course, endlessly frustrated. You combed through vast swathes of the area when traveling with Estinien and Ysayle. How in Hydaelyn’s sweet name had you missed him?

Naturally, you must right this wrong. You will join the Thancred rescue party.

So, you march over to your allies, your companions, your friends and voice your intent with more energy than you have had in weeks. They look surprised at first. Alphinaud then looks abashed, and Y’shtola is the only person with enough spine to tell you what’s what.

They do not want you on the Thancred rescue party. Out of concern for your health. Healers they may be, but you know your body. The only aches and pains you face now are those which have plagued you since your misspent youth. There is no compromise to be made, no need for you to cower within Ishgard’s sturdy walls whilst your friends brave the wilds, risking life and limb to recover one of your own.

The Dravanian Forelands stretch beneath a fortunately clear sky. You recall the hospitality shown to you by the gnath during your first foray into the forests, and are pleased to receive an even warmer welcome this time. Indeed, they have both seen and traded with Thancred. The lead is strong, the scent of the trail thick in the air.

You’re not sure how the others don’t pick it up. It is buried beneath the thick of the wilds, leaf not leather and something unmistakably Thancred. Undeniably and deliciously Thancred. The hunt occupies most of your attention from then on. Some animal part of your brain flickers to life, spurring you into instinctual motion. You tread the path at the head of the pack, oblivious to the conversations occurring all around you.

The abode of the tempered gnath smells and feels as insidious as you remember, but the nest is empty now. Save Ravana and some poor sods foolish enough to tussle with him. By the time you reach the lip of the pit, the battle is over and the primal has crumpled. He erupts into fluttering pulses of amber aether, one thousand butterflies extinguish into the chilly night air.

You’re not terribly concerned with the party that ended him, but the bulky warrior at their head begins to yap on about darkness and light. You’re content to let him, keen gaze scanning the grounds in hope of catching sight of your last friend. The air here is thick with him. If he’s not here, then he’s nearby—

Alphinaud’s panicked cry splits the cold air. You’re not afforded the time to look before an axe arches through the air, dark metal gleaming underneath pale moonlight. Fortunately, the rage only takes a moment to reach a boiling point, these days.

You reach up. An arm too thick and too ridden with scale to be yours catches it by the blade, hooked claws like crescent moons. You look the warrior in the eyes. His eyes go wide in surprise, before his features crumple in with annoyance. Not fear. Not yet.

You don't remember the rest of the fight. There were screams, panicked voices you did not recognize, and at last the telltale sound of teleportation being cast. Consciousness clambers back to you in fuzzy, stumbling stages. The dirt and dead grass crunches underneath your boots. The smell of ash and burnt pine. The steady surging of the many nearby rivers.

You blink, and all of the sudden, you are no longer at the heart of the vath’s domain. Rather, your group has taken shelter beneath a hulking ruin. The groans and growls of wild beasts outside.

“What happened?” you ask. Alphinaud is there. He looks scared, sweat slick on his brow. He struggles to gather his words, mouth opening and clothing, several times in rapid succession. “Did we win?”

Your friends stare at you like you are unfamiliar. Even Y’shtola’s eyes are pitched wide. What must you have done to inspire such terror in those closest to you? Alphinaud seems bereft of his typical many words. The silence hangs in the air for several, helpless moments.

“Yes, large in part due to your newfound skill and my hasty arrival,” a familiar voice cuts through the lingering quiet, and oh—

“Thancred!” There is no decorum in the way you rush him. You throw your arms around his waist and squeeze, close enough to take in the wild smell of him, all sweat soaked leather and the bite of iron. Something in you is piqued by the scent.

He laughs. It’s a full sound, incredulous. “Who are you and what have you done with our Warrior of Light?” Calloused fingers pry you back by the jaw so he can get a better look at you. His roguish smile is a familiar, comforting sight. His gaze, though, is prying. He’s searching for something in you and you don’t know what. You can only hope that he finds it, and that it satisfies him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been honored with one of your fair embraces, before. Did absence truly make the heart so much fonder?” he asks, eye crinkling with a waggish smile.

His one eye.

“Your eye—” you begin, gut churning with the revelation. 

He waves you off. “You’ve no need to fret over me. It’s still usable, merely a tad sensitive to the light. And the eyepatch—doesn’t it have a certain roguish appeal?”

“I,” you swallow, suddenly unsure of what to say. You look down at your hands, and find them stained with blotches of bright sanguine. A cold feeling settles in your stomach. For not the first or the tenth time, you wonder if what you’re seeing is really there. You look to Y’shtola for answers, as you are these days wont to do. “What happened?”

“A conversation best saved for when we are out of the wilds,” Y’shtola declares. “I believe we are all in need of a meal, a good night’s rest, and—” she spares Thancred a pointed look. “a hot bath.”

“Couldn’t you have been any subtler?” Alphinaud asks, sympathetic. 

Y’shtola says something else in reply, and then begins walking. You walk, too, along the Forelands trail until you reach Tailfeather, where a carriage through the Western Highlands has been secured. Thancred can no longer teleport himself, he’s told you. A consequence of his timely escape from Ul’dah. It’s yet another tally to add to the list of misfortunes you were not strong enough to prevent. You stay quiet the whole way back.

Only once you are securely squared away in your quarters in House Fortemps does Y’shtola come to you.

“Your arm was, all at once covered in scales—and your fingers morphed into claws. I have never seen such an abrupt transformation. There was no dragon blood consumed, nor a cache of crystals in the vicinity to create such a transformation.” It all pours out of her at once, a gush of information that takes a few moments for you to process. Not that you are particularly surprised. After all, how many times have you invoked the strength of the void, letting its dark taint suffuse your spells with power unimaginable? You have formed a close bond with Midgardsormr over the course of your journey. Adopting his strength as your own feels natural.

Y’shtola doesn’t seem to agree, as she continues.

“The lack of preparation and sheer speed of the transformation suggest that you’ve possessessed this power from the start. Or at least, for quite time time. Do you have any inkling of how this may have occurred?”

She turns her gaze to you. Sightless, yet keener than ever. The silver of her stare slips beneath your skin and prises the truth straight out of your mouth, because you can’t stomach lying to Y’shtola.

“No. I don’t. Mdigardsormr traveled with me, yes, but he gave no indication that this coild happen.”

Y’shtola squints at you, opening her lips as if to speak, but all that emerges is a sigh. Fond exasperation furrows her brows and draws her lips into a begrudging smile.

“I suppose it cannot be helped, then. You have ever been the most vexing problem child,” she teases and you grumble, collapsing onto your mattress. You turn over and shove your face into the cotton blankets. 

“Come now, do not pout,” Y’shtola pats you on the shoulder. “You’re the best of us, you know. Even if you can’t handle a little prodding,” another pause. “If anything feels off, come see Alphinaud or myself straight away.”

“I assume you’d prefer being my first choice?” you inquire impishly, only half in jest. 

“I’ll not be coaxed into kicking the hornet’s nest on this one,” Y’shtola stands, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn, and then a sigh as her muscles stretch and her joints crack. “Promise me.” she murmurs, delicately prodding your side.

You give a grunt, and then a mumble of verbal ascent when the sound fails to satisfy her. 

You count every footfall across the aged wooden floor, heels of her shoes deceoptively soft. She’s inaudible by the time she reaches the landing.

—

It would take hold of Minfilia, sometimes. During particularly impassioned moments at negotiating tables, her voice would crack across the room, tight and wound as a coil of lightning. You can recall a particular insurance—in the office of the Admiral. A sly remark in passing off Merlywyb’s tongue developed into a full blown discourse on the very nature of the beast tribes, and what aught to be done with them.

All people of Hydaelyn were entitled to the Mother’s blessings. Minfilia decreed and her eyes burned that brilliant aether blue, and the room smelled like a passing storm.

“This is love,” Minfillia said, looking deep into the grooves of an Amal’jaan warrior’s spear—symbols meant to provide some sort of luck, or protection. The beastman laid in a smoking heap a few fulms away, smited by your spellcraft.

“This is love,” Minfillia, said, cradling your newly obtained jobstone in her cradled palm. The echoes of countless come before you, packed into one object meant to arm you, to furnish you with knowledge. With fire to melt Garlean steel and ice to freeze entire caravans belonging to certain Syndicate members. With earth and wind to blow away festering corruption, to heal all wounds.

“This is love,” Minfillia rasped, spun gold hair falling stringy and wet in her face. She looked at you with wide eyes—and open arms with trembling  fingers. One of her daggers had been flung overboard, lost to the frenzy of the Whorl. Her eyes were two wide currents of light in the dark and dreary grey. Each breath rattled out of her. “This is love.”

And looking back, you wonder how you even managed to hear her over the wind and chopping of the sea.

The outpouring of your essence into a vessel in hopes that it may one day aid someone else. You think you understand it, now.

—

“Half of your aether in its full capacity,” Alphinaud said to you, shortly after you woke up for the first time after the Vault. Memories of the conversation and several like it come to you, sometimes. Like thin trails of fog gliding in through your open balcony door. His voice was rife with disbelief. Eyes so young and wide and watery—a boy so scared of losing one of the only friends he has left.

“I cannot begrudge you—I am—glad you did it—” he pounds pained. “Yet surely, you must know this does not bode well for your—”

“Casting—” your voice doesn’t sound like yours, sometimes.

“Your health—for your health—”

“Please, take better care—”

“—half of it isn’t your own, anymore—”

“My friend, please. Tell me what ails—”

“You saved my son’s life, and for that, you will forever have my deepest gratitude. Deeply and irrevocably.”

[saintsugu]

ive taken the past few days to gather my mental bearings and try to properly formulate my thoughts. as a survivor of csa, i do not take these topics and criminal allegations lightly.

- starting with the two (2) threads that i wrote on twitter: writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I began writing on Twt, rather than just post on this blog, for a reason. It was separate from the the friends i’ve made on here. I’d be able to write things that about trauma that i’m too ashamed to admit. I could discuss topics that have been prevailing factors in my own real life without feeling worried about being shamed. I get that these are taboo topics (and for good reason), but I don’t know where the conclusion formed that just because i was discussing / consuming these topics through fiction, automatically meant that i was getting off on the idea of it happening in real life; especially compared to the possibility that maybe i was using it to cope.

Everybody has lines they’re not willing to cross. I get it; I have those too, believe it or not. for me— as a survivor, discussion of underaged content falls into the same category alongside of noncon, stepcest/incest and cannablism. None of which i support in real life yet all of which i have at some point consumed via fiction. Now obviously, these standards aren’t the same for everyone, but in my mind there is no difference. I would never accuse someone of being a r*pist if they wrote noncon. I would never claim that it’s dangerous for them to interact with women in their real lives.

People deal with trauma in different ways. When I first started to write dark content on my old blog, i dipped my feet into dubcon. I didn’t care much for it. But then in the months following, i was SA’ed by my best friend. I then began to write graphic noncon. And i felt a bit better— a bit more in control. I was now choosing when and where i was viewing and consuming fiction with these topics, rather than when i had something i did not want forced onto me.

It’s taken me a long time to begin to process certain things that took place in my childhood. Having to process something, that happened more than a decade ago, entirely alone with zero support from anyone i know is difficult. I found a way to help myself cope. My methods may have been unsavory and uncomfortable for people, but not to the extent of graphically telling me how to k*ll myself in my inbox. Yes, I did write and consume underaged fiction in order to cope with my personal trauma. I fully own up to that. At the end of the day, fiction is just fiction.

Concerning the ‘expose’ post, the OP also claims that this was not to start a witchhunt, just to shed light to the situation; all the while, they were in my inbox telling me to kill myself before even making a post. Alright. People have had no issues calling me the f slur, making transphobic remarks/purposely misgendering me, and of course, graphically telling me how i should end my life. They’ve sent hundreds of asks claiming they care about the situation, when in my opinion—which might not mean much, no matter how you feel about me, if you resort to threatening, hate mobbing and threatening me irl, you are not handling things in the right way either.

In regards to the minor in my following list, i don’t know who she was or if her pinned post had changed. when i read the expose post i immediately unfollowed her and checked to be met with the fact that she didn’t follow me and we had shared a total of zero messages between the two of us. I am unsure if her pinned post changed or if I had foolishly followed her without checking to a full extent. Either way, we had no interactions. That might sound like a copout but unfortunately, i have no other commentary i can share on the matter.

at the end of it all, i can only control my own boundaries. i tag everything accordingly and that is the most i can do. drawing and fictional pieces cannot be considered cp.

[warriorteam1924]

My body’s aching

John Deacon x Veronica Tetzlaff

Author note : Hello my beauties. I'm back for John's birthday of course !! I’ve been super busy lately and I’m aware it’s not my best piece, but  I hope some of you will enjoy it anyways. Thanks in advance to anyone who will be giving honest feedback, it’s always very appreciated. Also, I remind you English isn’t my mother tongue, apologies in advance for the mistakes.

Warnings : none really, just my awful writing. and a slight sexual innuendo…. 

Summary : a slight problem on a birthday morning

Words count : 1,243 words

Permanent taglist : @reavenedges-lies​ @thosequeenboys​ @born-to-lose​  @orionis8689​ @queenlover05​​ (communicate with me regarding tagging please)

As he usually did, John Deacon went to bed at a reasonable hour that day. He kissed his wife goodnight and got comfy under the cover, the fresh air coming from the window cooling the room’s atmosphere. He wasn’t thinking at all that the following day would be his birthday. Not that he didn’t care at all, but at this very moment, all he wanted was a good night’s rest. After all, he was going to be 72 in a few hours, he had to take care of his sleep schedule, since he wasn’t 23 anymore.

Dreams. John didn’t have many of them, or at least it didn’t recall them very much.  A few fragments, snippets of actions or moments in the blur, faces or vague figures but nothing more. All he knew was that he moved a lot during his sleep, and apparently it was according to his dreams, to the actions he was making while he was in dreamland. His wife never complained about it, she just mentioned it a few times, curious as for what her husband could have been dreaming of.

This night, Veronica noticed her husband was particularly agitated, and hoped he was not having a nightmare. Thanks to the weak light that was in the room, she looked at his face, ready to wake him up in case he was in distress. But his face seems happy, more than happy even, so Veronica gently kissed his cheek and went back to sleep.

John was also usually an early bird, waking up first in the house. He usually went downstairs to make coffee and this day being his birthday didn’t mean he would have waited to be served like a kid on his special day. Just like he did every morning when he was waking up by her side, he looked at his wife for a moment, as she was still slightly snoring, gently rocked within Morpheus’ arms. He turned around to get up.

“OUUUUUUUUUUUUCHHHHHHH”, John let out a loud scream of pain, brutally waking his wife.

“Oh my God, John, are you okay?”, she asked, terribly worried.

“My back, my back is stuck, oh lord it hurts so bad, what the hell???”, John explained, complained and cursed all at once.

“Are you able to move at all ? what’s going on?”, Ronnie asked, still incredibly concerned.

“I can’t, I’m stuck….”, Deaky said as he put back his head on the pillow.

“Hold on, I’m gonna get some painkillers right now and I’m going to try to massage you”, his wife said as she energetically went out of bed to get what she needed to help her husband.

John looked at her, with a mix of anger given how quickly and easily got out of their bed. She rapidly came back with a glass of water and a painkiller, which John put in his mouth right away. He swallowed, as his back was still tense, hoping the tablet would be efficient soon.

“Okay, turn around now.”, Ronnie firmly said.

“Excuse me?”, John replied, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna massage you, silly. Shoo, turn around”, she repeated as she made a motion with his hands to illustrate her words.

“Oh, no Ronnie I’m going to be fine, don’t worry.”, John said, trying to avoid a massage.

“John Richard Deacon, you better lay on your stomach right now or else I’m going to do it myself and I’m not going to be gentle.”, she warned him, very seriously.

John looked at her, confused. Was she really going to use force to give him a massage? He wasn’t sure, but she seemed extremely serious. As a result, John complied, gently laying his stomach, waiting.

He felt his wife’s soft hands on his skin, making him shiver.

“I hope my hands are not too cold…. Where is it painful?”, she asked, this time way more gently.

“My lower back seems stuck….”, John replied, his head between two pillows.

“Okay, let’s see….”, Ronnie carried on, as she put some lotion on her husband’s back.

John slightly arched at the sensation, but tried to remain still, so that the massage, combined to the painkillers, would be useful. Deaky suddenly heard his wife giggle.

“Are you mocking me?”, John complained, his voice muffled given his position.

“No no, of course not. I just had this silly thought of me being a Dom right now, doing erotic stuff to you….”, she explained, tittering again.

“Ronnie, do you really think this is the right moment to think about sex?”, John asked, as he was still feeling his wife’s hands massaging him on his back.

She got closer to his ear, whispering : “it’s always the right moment to remind my husband I love him and I still have a strong desire for him”.

John felt his cheeks suddenly getting hotter and probably as red as the most mature tomato one could ever see. As a reply, he only let out a soft ‘hum’, a smile still appearing on his lips.

And then, all of a sudden, and since his wife had mentioned the topic, John remembered. Fragments, like he often did, but he remembered.

He remembered a passionate moment with his wife in his dream, his skin pressed on hers, the ardent kisses they were sharing, his hips rocking on hers.

And he remembered how his last thrust as he was reaching orgasm made him arche his back strongly. His body surely moved as well as he was dreaming, hence his back blocked as he woke up.

“John?”, Ronnie asked. “The massage is done, are you okay? You’ve been very quiet”, she worried.

“Yes, thank you, honey.”, John replied, as he got into a more comfortable position, to breathe properly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re as red a as tomato?”, Ronnie asked.

“Yup, all good, I’m feeling better already. I’m be up soon.”, John tried to reassure her.

Yet, the two of them had been married for a very long time now, and even if Ronnie was no mind reader, she knew her husband so very well. She looked at him in silence for a few seconds and a smile appeared on her lips.

“We did have a steamy night in your dream, right? And you took me so intensely that your back got stuck, right?”, she asked, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Oh god, Ronnie, what the hell?”, John tried to fake being shocked after her insinuations.

“Try and tell me I’m wrong. After all, there is nothing to be ashamed of…. Even in our vows, we said ‘I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.’….”, she reminded him.

“Yes, okay, yes, that’s true. Happy?”, John confessed, his feeling switching from being ashamed, and slightly irritated.

Ronnie was still looking at him with a mischievous smile. She got closer and kissed him on his soft lips.

“Try and get better so that after the kids are gone, we can celebrate your birthday properly, just the two of us.”, she said with a wink.

She got up and left the room, leaving John with his thoughts. He spoke out loud, as if he was warning his back.

“You better get back on the right tracks buddy, because tonight’s gonna be the night….”.

That day was surely to be a very unusual birthday….

[lucagray813]

Anything for Free Noodles

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1,683

Main Characters: Tang, Pigsy, MK

Relationships: Tang & Pigsy (Pre-relationship Freenoodles), Tang & MK, Pigsy & MK

Summary: Pigsy needs an emergency babysitter, Tang was regrettably the only option available.

Additional Tags: Pre-canon, slice of life

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

----

Tang had been coming to Pigsy's Noodles for a number of years, it had started out as somewhere to go and study but obviously with food that good he rarely went anywhere else.

And having become such a loyal customer he also ended up becoming quite friendly with the titular Pigsy. So much so that the pig demon was happy for Tang to sit in the restaurant while it was shut between the lunch and dinner rush.

He'd even had plenty of friendly chats with Pigsy's grandmother, Xiùyīng, and was a friendly face to Pigsy's adoptive son, MK.

He wasn't super great with small kids but turns out that didn't really matter to MK - the boy had endless energy and never seemed to run out of things to say. He'd been the victim of his one-sided conversations a number of times over the years.

A quick look to Pigsy or Xiùyīng was enough to have them whisk him away but as long as he wasn't cramming for a deadline he could tolerate it. His father and grandmother as obviously as they loved him could do with a five minute break now and then.

It was on a seemingly normal day that things took an unexpected turn. MK had been upstairs watching TV, Pigsy had been preparing for the dinner rush and he had been quietly studying at the counter when Pigsy had received a call that he left to take in another room.

Completely frazzled, Pigsy had stormed back into the room shortly after and quickly started to tidy things away.

More than a little concerned he asked, "Er, Pigsy? Everything alright?"

Pigsy whipped around to face him after grabbing some paper. And while writing he explained shortly, "Hospital called. My grandma's had a fall. I need to get there asap. Tang, I'm really sorry but I need to close the shop for the day."

He then moved to stick the hastily written sign on the door as Tang responded with concern, "Is she ok?"

Pigsy responded, "She's not dying but sounds like she's got one hell of a concussion and leg injury out of it. She's going to be in at least overnight. I need to go to her's, pick up her stuff and then get to the hospital."

Pigsy shot a worried look at the stairs that led up to his apartment before turning back to him a little desperate, "Tang, I know I'm asking a lot here but MK does not handle stress well. Would you be able to watch him for a couple hours? Please?"

Even seeing how harried Pigsy was he couldn't help but be reluctant, "Me? Are you sure? You don't have anyone better suited...?"

Pigsy pleaded with him, "Not on such short notice. Plus he knows you and you know he's a good kid." He looked away for a moment before he played his winning card, "Look, do this for me and noodles are on the house for the week."

Free noodles? For a week? For basically sitting here like he had been planning to? He'd be crazy to pass that up!

Trying not to let the excitement take over, he responded, "For you Pigsy? Anything!"

Pigsy snorted, not at all surprised or impressed at his quick turnaround but he didn't pass comment - the important thing was he had a babysitter.

He grabbed another piece of paper, "This is my number. Call me if you need anything. Feel free to go upstairs. I hopefully shouldn't be gone that late but there's enough leftovers in the fridge upstairs for both you and MK."

He handed the number to him and paused for a moment, sincerity clear as he said, "Tang. Thank you for this."

He didn't get a chance to respond before Pigsy turned and sharply called MK's name. A thump was heard from above followed by the thundering of a child running down the stairs.

MK appeared looking worried, "I was just watching TV!"

Given how Pigsy had called him, Tang wasn't surprised that MK had assumed the worst. He'd been given a fright by the shout as well.

Pigsy seemed to realise this too and he kneeled down as he waved MK over to him, "You're not in trouble. I just need to go out for a bit so Mr. Tang is going to watch you, ok?"

MK was immediately distressed, "You're going out just now? But the shop's about to open!"

Pigsy had a hand on his shoulder as he responded, "We're going to be shut for a little bit but I'll be back in a few hours. You won't even notice that I'm gone."

This didn't seem to appease him at all, "But where are you going? Did something happen?" He glanced at Tang, "Where's grandma? Why can't she come watch me?"

Tang watched in real time as Pigsy struggled to come up with what to say, he clearly didn't want to tell MK the truth but a believable lie seemed beyond him.

He settled on, "Your grandma went out for the day, remember? Look, I promise everything is ok and I'll explain it all when I get back but I really need to get going. Can you be good for Mr. Tang?"

Very reluctantly, MK nodded. Pigsy ruffled his hair and kissed his head before standing up, "Thata boy. I'll be back before you know it."

Through out all of this Tang had been doing his best to give them some privacy, playing around with his phone long after he'd saved Pigsy's number and sent him his own.

Pigsy thanked him once more before heading out, and MK looked so sad as he stood by the window and waved goodbye, standing there long after Pigsy was gone from sight.

Tang was starting to regret agreeing to this in the face of such upset. Pigsy and Xiùyīng had both mentioned before that MK was a bit of a sensitive kid but he'd never seen him like this and he was feeling exceedingly underqualified.

Slowly, MK turned around to face him and for a moment they just stared at each other while Tang racked his brain on what to say to an upset looking seven year old.

Glancing at his paper on Chinese mythology and then back to MK he weakly offered, "Er... Ever heard of the Monkey King?"

----

Several hours later, Pigsy returned home to find him and MK sitting upstairs, empty food bowls surrounding them, while watching an age appropriate cartoon retelling of Journey to the West.

Tang paused the show as he saw Pigsy walk closer, and MK had looked ready to complain loudly before he realised who was back. With an excited shout he ran over to his father, wasting no time telling him everything he'd learned about the Monkey King in the time he'd been away.

Pigsy looked confused but nodded along anyway. Though he interrupted MK's embellished retelling of Monkey King's adventures to say, "Sounds like you've had a great time with Mr. Tang, huh? You can tell me all about it after I see him off, ok?"

Tang took the hint and started to pack up his things and as he made his way over. Pigsy picked up MK and prompted him, "What do we say to Mr. Tang?"

Obediently MK chimed out a "Thank you, Mr. Tang!"

Pigsy then gently tossed a happy MK on to the couch with a, "Good boy. I'll be back up in a minute."

Tang smiled and said his goodbyes as he followed Pigsy down the stairs and to the front door.

Pigsy looked exhausted but he at least seemed less stressed than he had earlier. His gratitude was clear though, "Thanks again, Tang. He behaved himself right?"

Tang nodded, "Oh yeah, he was totally fine. He was a bit upset after you left but he bounced back fast. How was your grandmother?"

Pigsy sighed, "She'll be alright but she's dislocated her hip so she's going to be out of action for a while. She'll be in the hospital for a few more days so that gives me time to get my room set up for her."

Tang hissed in sympathy at the injury but curious he asked, "Where will you sleep?"

Pigsy shrugged, "Guess I'll be on the couch for a while. Might have an old futon hidden away somewhere but I'll sort it out."

He supposed there was no way around it - she wouldn't be able to move on her own for a while and Pigsy wouldn't be able to work and take care of her if she wasn't here.

Still he felt bad at how busy Pigsy's foreseeable future was looking so he offered, "Well, if you need me to, I'm sure I could babysit MK again for a bit."

Pigsy laughed slightly, "Trying to earn yourself a lifetime's worth of free noodles?"

Tang grinned. He couldn't say the thought hadn't crossed his mind, "Well, if you're offering..."

Pigsy rolled his eyes but smiled at him, "I appreciate the offer and I might have to take you up on it sometime. But thanks again for today - sorry I've kept you here so late."

Tang waved him off, "We both know I've been here way later than this." He then paused a little concerned, "You're not going to open the restaurant again tonight, are you?"

Pigsy shook his head, "I had thought about it but I need to go tell the kid what's happened and I already know he's going to be pretty upset over it... Not to mention I'm exhausted. I think I'll survive missing one night."

Glad to hear it and not wanting to keep him from MK any longer, he said his goodbyes and started his walk back home.

He was surprised to find himself a little excited to come back and share more stories of the Monkey King to MK. He'd never met someone as enthusiastic as himself about the old legends.

It wouldn't take him, or Pigsy, long to realise he'd sparked a love that would last a lifetime.

[eliotqueliot]

WIP Tag Game

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I am still working on a number of the same WIPs, so I'll talk about progress and priorities a bit to make it more interesting. Also, I make art as well as fic, so I'll tag a few artists. Please note: I'm tagging you only because I love your work. Absolutely no worries if you don't wish to post! Also, please, anyone looking at this--please jump in if you like💖 @magicians4time @vooruitmariek @itsminimes @violetsarepurple-fuckyou @wolfnprey

also tagging (please stop being funny about this, Tumblr!!!)

@bravelostgirl @cyprianlatewood @jessalae @lovequeliot @springybreak

okay Tumblr, I have your number, thank you, also tagging

@tbraves24 @lizardkingeliot @yourtinseltinkerbell

Tagged by @unlifeira. Thank you!

All my WIPs are The Magicians, specifically Queliot fanfic/fanart.

I'm super, beyond excited to announce we've started working on this project again! So dear to my heart! I'm illustrating the brilliant fic by @magicians4time

We Could Build a Castle - EliotQueliot, Librarity - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

2. I'm making art for every still photo on the AO3 side of my collection of haiku about the Mosaic life of Eliot and Quentin. This is a long-term project. There are going to be more than a hundred paintings in it when I'm done. So far I've posted nine of them. My aim is to add something, some touch, some light and color, an expression, to each scene. (There will also be more haiku eventually!)

Mosaic Haiku (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

(the photos I'll be painting are visible in the Tumblr mirror chapters)

3. I have a Secret Queliot Novel collaboration project with a beloved Queliot artist. I'm working on the middle chapter right now. The "finished" chapters are about 80k so far. Teaser: it concerns a mix of book and show to retell the Keys Boat Quest!

4. Ongoing and very important to me, I just posted Ch. 4 for this AU:

you want it darker? || dark king eliot - EliotQueliot, victoriaandalbert - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

It's a challenging fic to write, so I got slowed down a bit, but in general I try to post a chapter every other month.

5. I'm actively working on the next chapter of this. Hoping it will be the next fic chapter I post:

Sailing to Blackspire - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Below are the rest of my WIPs, basically in the order they appear in my list of works on AO3. I'm making art for some of them. I'll finish all of them. I just have so much going on! Also, I have ideas sketched out for quite a number of Queliot fanfic and fanart pieces after these. Just trying to maintain some kind of order in all this chaos!

6. ...Baby One More Time - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

This will be short but needs a few chapters. Time loops!

7. All We Need Is One Good Day (Any Day That You're Alive) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

One more chapter and another moodboard to go!

8. Secret Lives - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Several more chapters, it seems. I have a rough outline and a number of scenes sketched out.

9. The First Duty of All Magicians Is to Save Their Friends (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Making art for every chapter! The next chapter you read will earn the E-rating!

10. Eliot Rocks the Memory Palace (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Oh, so many chapters to go, can't wait to fully write them! I have many, many scenes sketched or partly written. A few more pieces of art to make.

11. How They Met Themselves (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

The drawing and scenario are posted. I'll be painting it. I might even write a tiny fic to go with it.

12. Going South (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

I have a number of scenes written and a lot of plot sketched out. Will also be making a few more piece of art.

13. The Once and Future Kings of Fillory - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Lots of draft, but it's going in a different direction than I planned. We'll see if I can get it back on track.

14. The fic for this one is finished, but I'm slowly working on painting the art for

How Did That Basket of Peaches Get There? Or, A Secret Royal Wedding, Bitches! (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

15. The painting is finished, but at some point I'll write the fic for

Secret Admirers (Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

16. Mosaic Mendings - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

I have some plot notes. But it turns out there's a lot more to this story than anticipated!

[novaxanomaly]

Birth of Eboni

A/N: this little thing is a piece that is concerning my own characters and an RP partners characters. please do not steal or claim as your own.

Tagging: @co11ywobbles, @deadshot6969, @salty-space-gremlin

Wordcount: 2043 words

TW: blood, death, birth, fear.

Muses used: Kage, Tsuki, Akina, Kuragami, Kagemi, Donovan.

To say that he was surprised when Akina came to him and told him she was pregnant, would be an understatement. He personally never thought that he would ever have children again, being extra careful not to let it happen. After all, that last time he had a family, it ended in tragedy.

But now, Akina is huge and round in the belly, the whole pregnancy Kage would demand she let him or Tsuki do whatever work that was needing to be done. He even, willingly, went on missions instead of Akina, to prevent any injury to the elf and their unborn baby. When there were no missions, no threats, no negative things, Kage would take advantage and cuddle up to Akina and talk to the baby growing in her womb. He would tell the unborn baby stories and sing.

Today, though, he was out with his siblings, making Tsuki promise to keep Akina at least safe in the cottage.

“Oh, Kage look at this one, it's so you!” Kagemi squealed, holding up a tiny black colored baby outfit with the words 'Daddy's Little Shadow' printed across the front of the onesie and the matching pants had hearts. “I mean, have you figured out what the gender is?”

“Yeah, Akina wouldn't let me go to the appointment for that ultrasound... so you would have to ask her.” Kage sighed, he was not excited about buying clothes for the baby, it didn't feel like a thing he should be doing, but Akina had scolded him and kicked him out of the house because of how much time he had been spending with her and their unborn baby. “I like that one, put it in the carriage. But we should probably get something for a boy too, just in case.”

Kuragami chuckled. 'You know, Brother, I don't see why you are so upset about hanging out with us. Before Akina got pregnant, we would hang out weekly.” He said, wondering what was bothering their oldest triplet sibling. Kuragami was never told about the Tragedy with his last family. Only Kagemi knows, and refuses to tell anyone because it isn't her story to tell.

“I... I am just a … worried dad, OK?” Kage said finally. “can we leave it at that?”

“You do know that there is such thing as too much worry, right?” Kura asked, a small smile on his lips to let Kage know that he was not trying to start a problem. “You need to understand that we are around to help also, I mean, Brother, I have kids too, so I get it. I worry too, I told you what happened to Jett.”

“Yeah... well, at least your kids are alive, brother.” Kage countered in a soft voice, low so only his siblings could hear with the heightened hearing they all had. Kura frowned in response to the comment and glanced to Kagemi, who simply closed her eyes and nodded.

“Why have you never told me this?” Kura asked.

“Not really something I want to willingly remember... but if it wasn't for Kagemi, I would have killed myself.” he sighed, “Kura, I had a wife and a son, my daughter hadn't been born yet. I came home from the group hunt the tribe does, and found my wife and son dead and bloody on my bed, my wife's pregnant belly still moving.” Kage told Kura the story, still speaking in the low tone, he looked into his younger sibling's matching ethereal blue eyes and continued. “Our unborn child was suffocating in the womb because my wife had died, so I tried to save it. I cut her belly open, carefully and pulled my daughter out and held her in my arms as I tried to clean her off. I watched the light fade from her beautiful blue eyes, brother. She took her last breath in my arms. I just don't want that happening to Akina, and this baby...not if I can actually prevent it.”

Kuragami nodded, another small warm smile forming on his lips, “I can understand your fear, brother, I almost lost Oisin... a while ago, but it was such a close call. So I at least understand a tiny bit what you mean.”

Kage was grateful that Kura understood his worry, and they continued to do the shopping. “I better be able to meet my new niece or nephew when they are born!” Kagemi chimed happily as Kage's phone began to ring.

It was Tsuki's ringtone, which made the shadow demon furrow his brows, as he answered the call.

“Tsuki, everything alright?”he asked.

“Oh, Kage, baby!” he heard the vampire fuss, and he furrowed his brows more, till he heard Akina in the background cry out in pain.

In the middle of the store, all three shadow demons winced and shadow blades appeared in their hands.

“Akina?” Kage questioned, not wanting to over react, after the conversation he had just had with his brother, his teeth were clenched and knuckles were white.

“Kage, um, I think the baby is coming... what should I do?!” Tsuki sounded like he was in distress, “Kage, babe, I … there is a lot of blood... I am scared...”

that was when Kage realized that his vampire lover was scared that he might feed on Akina. Because of the smell of all the blood. Kage swore under his breath and closed his eyes to think.

“Tsuki, calm down, its natural for the blood, but remember? I keep a stash of mine for you in that mini fridge in the bedroom. Grab a bag and sip from it. Call an ambulance and I will meet you at the hospital. OK?”

“Oh! Right! I am sorry, Kage, I forgot. I will do that now. See you soon.” and the vampire hung up on him.

Kage looked between his siblings and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Kuragami was the first to say something, just as Kage started to get consumed by shadows. The shadows dissipated and he tilted his head at Kura. “Kagemi, would you mind finishing the shopping, and I will drive Kage to the hospital? It would be a bit strange for him to shadow walk there when she isn't there just yet.” Kura watched Kage rub his face.

“No worries, I will wait till one of you call me and I will visit then. Don't be surprised if I buy a bit extra, cuz now I know diapers are a most.” Kagemi giggled and winked at her brothers. “Now go, I will see you both soon.”

Kura and Kage Shadow walked to the car, to cut time down, but then they drive from the store, to the hospital, and met with Tsuki.

“Kage!” he cried out when he saw Kage walk in. “They took her to a room and she made me wait for you.”

Kage nodded and was rushed by the vampire trying to find comfort, and Kage granted it, wrapping his arms around the shorter one and pulling him onto his lap sideways as he sat in a waiting room chair. “It will be alright, OK? It will.”

“Excuse me, Which one of you is Miss Akina's husband?” A doctor came over.

“I... that would be me, though we haven't gotten married yet.” Kage rose his hand and stood, moving Tsuki to the seat next to him. “Is everything alright? Is the baby born yet?”

“No, she is still in active labor, and insisted that we get a mister Kage?”

“Yeah that is me, we both are her lovers, we are in a poly relationship.” Kage felt the need to also include Tsuki, “But he gets queasy with blood.” Kage said, shrugging at Tsuki, trying to save him from any issues that might arise.

“Well, come with me, and the others have to stay out here.” the doctor motioned for Kage to follow her and he looked back at Tsuki and Kuragami, worry plastered on his face. He caught his brother nodding calmly, as if to tell him everything will be fine.

Kage followed the Doctor and sighed as they entered the room Akina lay in.

“Baby!” he called out, “I am here.” he rushed to her side and she made grabby hands at him. Her face was filled with pain and she was sweating, he grabbed her hand and kissed her now white knuckles just as another contraction hit her. She screamed and a few nurses practically ducked from fear.

“Kage, it hurts so bad!” she fusses at him and he couldn't help but chuckle.

“I know baby, but I am here now, you can do this. Help push our child into this world so I can finally meet them.” he calmly commanded her. It was like the words were Akina's final helping hand to be strong enough to deliver their precious creation unto the world.

A few hours later, Kage was handed the black haired baby, wrapped in a blanket after being cleaned. He had been so focused on making sure Akina was alright, that he was caught off guard by the nurse handing the bundle to him.

“Here is your new baby girl, Daddy.” the nurse said with a smile, and Kage took the child and held her close, moving back to his wife.

“Akina, you did it.” he whispered to her, and she looked up at him with drowsiness. “She is just as beautiful as her mother.” he smiled at Akina. “What shall we call her?”

“Eboni.” Akina replied sleepily, and Kage leaned down to show her the child. “perfect mix of us all.” she added with a sleepy grin.

“Rest baby, I will stay up with our Eboni.” Kage said sweetly to Akina, and she nodded, reaching over and gently booping the baby on the nose.

“Good night my darling girl.” she said and soon the elf was fast asleep.

Kage stayed awake the whole night, no one was able to visit because it had gotten to be too late, but Kage didn't mind. He still had a fear: of his little girl dying in his arms. So he chose to stay up all night, letting Akina rest and him watching the infant sleep soundly in his arms.

“Papa will always be here for you by daughter.” he smiled down at the sleeping baby, tears slowly blurring his vision as the first rays of the morning sun shined through the window. It had been a long night, but his baby girl was still breathing and now stirred and fussed for her first taste of food. He grabbed a formula bottle from the side table and shook it up, quickly getting it ready. He let out a small chuckle through his tears, that no one would see later, and moved the nipple of the bottle to her tiny lips. “eat up my darling.” he said and she opened her eyes along with opening her lips.

Eboni looked up at Kage with beautiful crystal blue eyes that briefly turned ethereal to match his, and then back to the pretty crystal blue. Kage smirked down at her, “You are a mischievous one, aren't you?” he whispered, and chuckled. Of course the infant wouldn't answer, she couldn't speak yet, he knew that, but she showed him that she definitely had shadow demon on her blood. “Papa's little survivor.” she leaned down and kissed her forehead, just as there was a knock at the door or the room.

“Good Morning!” Kagemi's voice rang out through the room, and he looked up to find his pregnant sister and her boyfriend walking in with a few shopping bags from the place they went to yesterday.

“She made it through the night, Gemi.” he blinked away his tears quickly, not wanting anyone else to see them.

“We all knew she would, brother, now let me see her!” Kagemi pouted and reached for the bundle in his arms, causing him to let out a small laugh, because Donovan rolled his eyes.

[neonshrike]

✍️ WIP Wednesday ✍️

More of Chapter 9 (which I’m very slowly working on)

Lucille finally going home after all she’s been through!

They watched as a Quinjet started to land outside, and Lucille took a deep breath. After a week here, away from her life and the rest of the world, she was finally going home. She thought of how everyone would react. Bruce could sense how nervous she was about this, and looked at her with concern. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, and she let out a sigh.

“I didn’t really leave on the best terms, remember?”

“Scott never left your side, and it hurt him that he had to leave,” he started to explain, remembering that night and how determined he was to save her life. “He’s going to be overjoyed to see you again.”

Bruce held her hand to try and comfort her, what he said was the truth. Throughout the time they knew each other, it was plain to see that Scott would walk through fire for his friends, and Lucille was no exception. She smiled back and nodded her head in complete agreement.

“You’re right.” 

They watched Scott come out of the Quinjet and make his way to the house, looking around for any signs of them. She let go of Bruce’s hand and sighed before leaving the room, ready to see her friend again after such a hard time. Lucille stepped outside and smiled at Scott, who just stood there in disbelief for a moment. 

“Hi, Scott.”

It was an emotional reunion, the last time he saw her, she was unconscious and weakened, Bruce had only just stabilized her. When he was called back home to pick up the pieces from their failed mission, she was constantly on his mind, worried about his teammate and friend.

She saw that his eyes held back tears before he pulled her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Lucille,” he spoke as he held her tighter, overjoyed to see her alive and well. She hugged him back, and the two just held onto each other for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. He pulled away with a nervous smile, hoping he didn’t overstay his welcome. 

She immediately asked him about the others, and how things were back home. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Hope, Hank, and Janet felt about how she failed, how Kurt took the news of her poisoning, and what Daniel was up to next. Scott shook his head, sensing her worry, and held up his hand to stop her.

“There’s plenty of time for that, right now I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

He smiled again, then his expression quickly dropped and he went silent for a moment. Lucille was confused at his reaction, until he started looking at her up and down, then took a few steps back in disbelief.

“Is that a new suit?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, amused at the fact that he just noticed it. She composed herself, and slowly turned to show him. Bruce walked down the stairs to them, also amused at his reaction, and stood next to her after greeting Scott.

“We worked on it together. It’s much more resilient now and has a few upgrades,” he explained, putting his hand on her shoulder, proud of their work. Scott smiled, glad to see the two of them seemed to get along well. Lucille activated the lights on her suit, impressing Scott even further, and started to show off some of the new features. 

“It’s amazing, and it really suits you,” he spoke after her demonstration, giving her a proud smile. “Now we just have to build you new gauntlets, and we’ll be ready to kick Daniel’s ass.”

Tagging @captastra @socially-awkward-skeleton @clonesupport @detectivelokis @sstewyhosseini @beautiful-delirium @marivenah @the-lastcall @gayafsatan and anyone else who wants to share a WIP!

[nimuetheseawitch]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks again @spurious for tagging me! This time I’m getting to it while it is still actually Wednesday in your time zone and not yet in mine, so maybe I’ll be inspired to write tomorrow!

I’m also not tagging anyone, but if you want me to tag you, go ahead and steal this and pretend I did! (also, you’re welcome to dm me and let me know you’d like to play in the future, and I’ll tag you next time)

State of the WIPs

Stargate:

Take me there again: 2181 words and done except for editing!

Noir!Rodney: 2803 words

Gender swap: 1345 words (word count is down because notes are now a separate doc and some pieces are in order, but writing is happening again!)

Fake dating: 885 words (and it has a plot now!)

crow!John: 469 words

Rodney McKay Goes to Maine: 2273 words

AR1 is really hot: 142 words

MASH:

BJ is the Worst: 2852 words

The problem with starting halfway through #5: 2236 words

This week's ✨WIP Wednesday Theme✨ is:

Talk is cheap, but I'm broke! By which I mean, let's talk about our WIPs!

To get you started, some emoji askbox prompts: 💡 What gave you the idea for this one? 😄 What part are you most excited to write? 😧 What are you worried about with this fic? 🏎 Has writing this one been fast or slow? ✏️ Have you deleted any scenes or strayed from your initial plan?

👤 What’s the POV? #️⃣ What will the AO3 tags for this be when you post it? 📓 Share an out-of-context sentence or fragment from your fic notes 🃏 Wildcard, dealer's choice: share a snippet, a thought, a concern, a feeling, anything you like!

Something I have learned about myself is that I can get a good 2000-2500 words written and then just lose steam apparently, but I am regularly thinking about all of these fics!