#also. ear tags for goats. is that anything.

[ryvdraws]

hes so. augh.

[ashtxeman]

Okay this tag on my Black Friday post SENT me so I have to do it, here’s my thoughts on what every Lord in Black’s apotheosis would look like. All - Every apotheosis causes an upsurge in violence in infected individuals and an extreme desire to spread the apotheosis globally. All infected also inherit blood, spit, tears, eye colour, etc that resembles the colour of the related Lord in Black. Use TGWDLM as an example of these phenomena. 

Wiggly - As we know from Black Friday, Wiggly’s apotheosis causes an extreme admiration for Wiggly himself. All sense of identity remains and the original individual is still conscious, but their mentality is rewired to worship Wiggly and all other previous desires and dreams are forgotten about in favour of him. Rather than being part of a hive-mind, all infected retain their own thoughts but still gather in cultish groups, led by an elected prophet with direct communication to Wiggly in the Black and White (someone like Wilbur or Linda). Appearance-wise, the infected may appear with green spots or tufts of fur across their body, and more notably have tentacles wrapped around their limbs. In other cases the infected may be able to summon tentacles from their mouths or backs and these can function as additional appendages.

Pokey - Of course we know all about Pokey’s apotheosis from TGWDLM, but I’ll drop some additional stuff anyway. All sense of original identity is erased upon infection, internally and mentally the infected individual is entirely rewritten but retains the notable qualities and mannerisms of the individual they used to be, largely to fool the uninfected into a more vulnerable position by presenting as the people they love. The infected have an innate desire to sing and dance and to accompany this inherit the ability to do so as if they are a trained professional, making for some interesting numbers. Song and dance is a primary form of communication amongst the infected and they favour this above talking, as it can be used to daze the uninfected. This apotheosis functions as a hive-mind which is controlled by a central system or a ‘leading man’, mainly Pokey himself but equally so Paul Matthews. Appearance-wise the infected look largely the same as before infection, with the exception of them now producing the apotheosis-inducing goo, increasing the level of contamination. The infected retain any injuries sustained to them prior to infection, whether deadly or not, but do not experience pain or symptoms related to them once infection has taken place.

Tinky - Arguably the most chaotic of the bunch, those under Tinky’s influence inherit his unpredictable nature as well as his laugh, essentially becoming inferior versions of Tinky himself. The original individual remains but their personality is altered and heightened to make a ‘bastard’ version of who they were before, meaning they are the worst version of themselves, think Hyde from Jekyll and Hyde. The infected are purposely altered from their original selves to be recognisable but completely insufferable to be around, just a bunch of assholes really. Appearance-wise this apotheosis changes people most, with infected often gaining yellow spots or tufts of fur (similar to Wiggly’s), alongside blue tongues and horizontal goat pupils. In rare cases the infected may gain horns and pointed ears, furthering their likeness towards Tinky’s. The infected are natural hoarders and enjoy collecting things for their ‘toy box’, becoming violent if anything of theirs is threatened. Despite this territorial nature, the infected enjoy being amongst each other and can often be found in large groups, or ‘herds’, hunting the uninfected or creating other entertainment for themselves for the shits and giggles. At times, upon the discovery of an uninfected individual, the infected may claim the uninfected as their own and toy around with them instead of infecting them (sound familiar, teddy bear?).

Blinky - In contrast to Tinky this is probably the least chaotic apotheosis, although upon initial infection people experience an extreme surge in violence and attack anybody around them with the intent to kill, and stop at nothing until their goal is fulfilled. During this period it is possible to reverse the apotheosis, although difficult, however once this period has passed the apotheosis is irreversible and the individual is now fully infected. When fully infected, people essentially act as walking cameras, wandering around aimlessly and keeping watch for any uninfected. Individuals will retain a sense of self but become quiet, hardly ever speaking. Instead the infected use blinking or otherwise telepathy as their primary form of communication, as this is more secretive and prevents the interference of the uninfected, making it easier to arrange ambushes and spread apotheosis. Appearance-wise the infected gain several more eyes on their body, mostly the cheeks and arms, of which they are able to see out of simultaneously. This makes them keen observers and incredibly difficult to avoid alerting. Infected may also gain purple discolouration on their body, primarily around the hands and face. If an uninfected individual makes eye contact with an infected individual, they will experience paranoia and fear that they are being watched, making them easier to ambush.

Nibbly - A close second to the chaos that Tinky creates, those under Nibbly’s apotheosis gain a similar territorial nature, although for food instead of trinkets and toys. Infected people develop an insatiable appetite and if their access to food is threatened they will quickly become violent. The infected function in an almost opposite manner to Pokey’s apotheosis, preferring to keep to themselves rather than join in groups, however this preference can change in certain situations. For example, two infected will fight amongst themselves, but if an uninfected individual is spotted they will immediately team up to spread the apotheosis. Food is a popular contaminant of the infection and this makes it incredibly difficult for the uninfected to survive. Appearance-wise, the infected have larger mouths and can even gain extra teeth, usually in the mouth but sometimes appearing on other areas of the body. They are able to unhinge their jaw which makes for a formidable bite. The infected often froth at the mouth and this contributes heavily to the contamination of food. Additionally, the infected can have pink spots on their body or pink streaks in their hair, and their mannerisms change to adopt a less complex speech pattern with an accompanying gravelly voice. Individuals under this apotheosis operate best at night as they are good at stalking people and require less people present for an ambush.

[fisherrprince]

wahhh just went through your ffxiv specbio tags they’re so cool!!! do you perchance have any more hcs for au ra

I HAVENT DONE AU RA YET but I love the lizards…. My best friends lizardguys. I haven’t gotten to endwalker yet and I know there’s a few more auri characters in there so…maybe my ideas will change But

au ra are I think probably the most diverse species out there just based on HOW MANY lizards exist and how BIG the azim steppes/doma/their reach is. I don’t know if I’d divide species traits by xaela/raen or if they all share that diversity, but I’m tempted to say there are fewer raen, most of whom are either in solitude or hanging out in doma, and they kind of remain proud of their celestial lineage, so they on the whole have more often “draconic” traits, while xaela with their many different lifestyles on the steppe on the whole will be more diverse. Like eastern dragons versus every other dragon species

so! between everyone I think their scales are Way More, most of which are very very hard and difficult to scratch or dent but some of which are soft like some reptiles wherein it’s not necessarily a scale, which sheds layers (like turtles shed their scutes), and more like skin, which sheds in flakes (like snakes or geckos). Au ra whose scales are soft like that are generally the same types of au ra who can pop their (also often soft and thick!) tails off at will and regrow them. Most au ra have very tough, muscly scaly tails, anywhere from big thick crocodile tails to thin draconic tails to tails that have ossified spines or clubs at the end (like dinosaurs!). Since they’re so strong, they can be used to emote — hitting them against the ground is a happy sign, while dragging it against things is Not. Also kids tend to grab and pull them a lot, which leads to the common thought of tail pulling being seen as kiddy. It is quite rude to do to an au ra as an adult. Their scales can sometimes spread to cover most of their body, and sometimes be restricted to the forearms, face, tail, and legs. their horns (aside from being basically ears which I think is cool, they must be pretty complex organs on the inside — I think they can shed but only the tips, like goats, and breaking any further is both really hard and very harmful not only to their ears but because they’re full of blood vessels!! Be careful! ) aren’t really used for fighting or anything they are there for hearing and temperature regulation and in defense. Au ra don’t really, like, sweat? They’re warm-blooded, but don’t sweat. So an important thing to keep in mind if you’re going into the desert is that overheating looks different in an au ra vs another race (lethargy, drooling, and unfocused eyes are your main tells). many of their horns point forwards to block their face. so no, sleeping isn’t that hard bc they sleep like loafs, but yes kissing is hard :( that’s not really a thing they do unless someone else wants to they snuggle and rub scales. so says yoshi p

Protofeathers are basically dinosaur fur - they are NOT feathers. They’re little hollow filaments somewhere between a feather shaft and hair. These ones are pretty stiff. That’s why au ra hair can so easily stick right up like a cockatiel. Some au ra have been noted to have protofeathers on their neck and arms like fur too :0

i have been. Speaking for a long time. uhhhh let’s see they have feets anywhere from plantigrade (clawed, kinda geckoey) to digitigrade (DINO!!!), their claws really need trimming often bc they don’t stop growing, they are not obligate carnivores like hrothgar but like miqote they need more meat than they do veggies, and it’s sometimes very hard for a non- au ra to tell if the big growl they’re doing is happy or not because big growl is how they purr! Like wolves going HHRHRRRRRR (happy). Also im obsessed with their limbal rings im so sad they’re so faded in the graphical update. they gotta glow. Most au ra are also colorblind in some way BUT! They can faintly see infrared

Also in researching lizards i found out that some lizards and frogs have like a third eye that can’t See like images but it CAN detect light and darkness and stuff? It’s called a parietal eye! Garleans… is amphibian (taking notes) /j

[cabinofimagines]

Chapter IV; convincing

So it took a while, but at some point I realised I wanted to finish writing at least arc one before posting the rest so oops.

Word Count: 1.2k

<- prev - mlist - next ->

-Asnyox

You both re-entered the clearing, followed closely by an overly excited Mrs. O’Leary. 

"No problem, I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs." You overheard Percy saying. Nico was the first of you two to speak up, letting your presence be known to the demigod and tree nymph. 

"Good job, Percy. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well." You could see clearly that Percy was nervous as he tried to smile. You were aware that Nico had made it pretty clear to Percy what his plan was, and if you were in this kid’s shoes you would have been nervous too. Luckily, you were just an idiot tagging along in the plan.

"Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper? And who is your friend?" Nico blushed and you wondered whether it was about the friend thing, or about Juniper.

"This is (Y/n), and um, no. That was an accident. I kind of . . . dropped into the middle of their conversation." Blushing out of embarrassment then, you inwardly cheered. He also did not deny the friend comment you happily noted.

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?" Nico shifted his weight. Ah, she must have been crying worried over her lover. You had caught some of the stories around camp, however you did not know any of these people personally, so you tended to mind your own business. 

"Juniper, like I tried to tell you . . . even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls." "But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?" Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open." 

"We'll find him, Juniper," Percy promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us." She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—" Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress. Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!" She went poof into green mist. You gaped at her disappearance, never having gotten close to a tree nymph before. 

Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, Percy and me alone. Nico tapped his sword on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knit themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. You were impressed by his control, but truly you felt as if this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

"I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf." Nico said and you downcast your gaze, having heard the news quiet recently. This was one of the first people from camp that you knew who died, and the news had taken a toll on camp. 

"How did you—" Percy started, and you were reminded that he was there with Beckendorf on the ship. "I talked to his ghost." So the rumours about Nico’s powers were true – he could actually converse with the dead. "Oh . . . right." "Did he say anything?" 

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't." "Is he going to try for rebirth?" Nico shook his head. 

"He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death." You weren’t sure how to feel about these developments, but before you could give it much thought Percy started talking again.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tarn," he told Nico. "Was that—" 

"Real," Nico said. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighbourhood." "Doing what?" 

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on . . . you know, my family." Percy nodded. You side eyed your friend, wanting the ask for an elaboration. However, you had felt him close the moment Percy started asking questions to him. You had heard a whisper about a sister, but there was nothing you could go off from. Nico was a mystery to you and you wished you could unravel it. 

"So how did it go?" Percy asked. "Any luck?" 

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon." 

"What's the lead?" 

Nico chewed his lip. "That's not important right now. You know why I'm here." You saw Percy’s face fall. You knew Nico wanted you to help convince Percy, but you had barely exchanged a word with the son of Poseidon before. What were you supposed to do? Tell him you would safe him from being stabbed? 

"Nico, I don't know," Percy said. "It seems pretty extreme." 

"You've got Typhon coming in, what . . . a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos's side. Maybe it's time to think extreme." Nico looked towards you as to urge you to help him. You stepped forward. 

“If I may, Percy, “ you looked the son of Poseidon in the eye, surprised by the distrust in them, “I’ve been at camp since April – if Nico hadn’t brought me here I would have been dead and I know that even with how hard I – we – camp has been working,” you heard sounds of fighting in the distance, “I fear we are hardly a match for the Titan army.” Nico nodded in agreement. 

“This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ." You hadn’t heard the prophecy fully yourself – around camp it was deemed a kind off taboo to mention or talk about.

“You can't prevent a prophecy," Percy said. 

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light m his eyes. "You can become invincible." 

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—" 

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!" You were startled at his outburst – but you did agree with him. 

"Urn, you sure you're okay?" Percy asked and you threw him a wary look. 

“Percy, look,” you started as you noticed Nico taking a deep breath, “It will be significantly harder, maybe even impossible to take this journey when the fighting starts. Maybe even too late- if you want to prevent any more losses, deaths on our side you must go now.”

“I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy,” Nico’s gaze was strict towards Percy, “but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honour that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos”

"All right," Percy decided. "What do we do first?"

[asknamelessghoulshiek]

(MINORS AT MOST UNDER SIXTEEN DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE BLOCK ANYTHING UNDER A SPICY OR NSFW TAG, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE AN ACTUAL CHILD OR SOMEBODY UNDER SIXTEEN OR IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE THE OCCASIONAL SPICY MENTIONS ETC! THIS IS BECAUSE SIXTEEN IS A OFTEN SET BOUNDARY OR AGE OF CONSENT THIS IS A MAINLY FAMILY FRIENDLY BLOG)

Hi!

My name is Shiek, or if you speak only English, Shriek. I’m a Multi ghoul summoned in Era II, used in Eras III and IV. I am a mix of Water, Quint, Air, and (insert the placement of Vocal). Making me a Multi purpose Ghoul.

I am technically 43,000 years old, but in Human terms of aging, I’m 43.

My vocal range is Soprano to Tenor, I am 180.34 CM in height, otherwise 5’11”.

I am considered a ‘Sheep’ or ‘Goat’ ghoul, because the wool around my neck, chest, and my long hair. There is also my ears and horns that play into the characterization as well, though I have a light gray dark spade tipped devilish tail.

(BASIC INFO)

Name: Shiek/Shriek

Pronouns: He/Him, Any/All.

Gender Identity: Genderfluid, Intersex.

Sexuality: Omnisexual.

Height: 180.34 cm/5’11”

Eye Color: Deep cherry grayish brown color.

Hair color: Fluctuates, usually gray tipped, brown rooted.

Build/Body-type: Lean/Toned.

Age: 43,000/43 years old.

Era(s): III-IV

(OOC INTRO)

Name: [DATA EXPUNGED] Age: [OF LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT] Height: 5’(-)”

I am the owner of this account, and @ask-lance-ghoul, @ask-vanity-ghuleh, and @ask-c0rvix-vessel.

BOUNDARIES

NO VENTING/TRAUMA DUMPING. PLEASE.

NO OUTRIGHT NSFW, AS MINORS MAY SEE SOME CONTENT ON THIS PAGE.

MY ASK BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN, BUT I WILL NOT ANSWER CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS, OVERTLY NSFW ASKS OR ETC.

I USE DISCORD, YES, BUT WILL I PROVIDE IT TO PEOPLE I DO NOT ACTIVELY SPEAK TO OR KNOW? NO.

(PLEASE DO NOT BE WEIRD, OTHER THAN THAT, ASK AWAY, PLEASE ENJOY THE CONTENT THAT MY ACCOUNTS POST.)

[batsyforyou]

Of Elves and Men Part 1

Pairing: Beleg x reader 

Elvish Words: I mean Loth = flower as far as I’m aware but I don’t think there is anything else

Warnings: Brief mention of being buried alive, bugs crawling on reader, dark cave, betrayal, friends turned enemies, blood, the dead moving, one dead guy, implied beheading,  nightmares, hallucinations, sickness, character death, a slight mention of a baby at the end. If I missed anyone up here or in the tags please let me know. 

A/N: I should tell you that I don’t actually expect anyone to read all this but if you do, I love you dearly. This was heavily inspired by my mythology class. Also, this was originally called “Immortals” and I did change it. I’m sorry if there has been any confusion. I want to say that I had fun with this, but I didn’t. This story tried to kill me and frame me for murder at the same time. I felt so defeated over this fic I might actually have to take some time off tumblr to get some mental energy back. When I tell you I legit cried and went to sleep when this was done.

Warning I tried my hand at romance, but none of this came out the way I wanted. I don’t know if that means I wasted three months or what but yeah. Also, for the romance I did summarize some parts instead of writing all of it.

Thank you so much for the support @a-complation-upon-flowers and @asainbutnotjapense ! I’m so sorry for the wait.

Blackness. It is all you can see. 

Though the cool dampness of the hard dirt floor didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it once did. Maybe that was a good thing, a blessing in disguise. You had no idea how long you had been lying here, cold, stiff, and hungry. The only noise in this prison was the sound of water dripping. From the cavern's ceiling and down into the puddle below to join the rest. 

Drip. Drip drip. Drip. One-two-one, or maybe three. 

It was like the little droplets played in a marching band that never ended. 

You were not alone, what you could now tell as a man with a rotted face sat with you sharpening a knife and every once and a while he would mumble, “I told you not to follow me.” The sound grated on your ears.

In this place the mind talked, and it spoke loudly. After all, what else is there for it to do? Trapped in its cage made of flesh and stone, chained. It spoke of revenge, of hunger, of pain, of fear, and of anger—hurt. It ate itself up and left nothing. Leaving you to contemplate your betrayal and your inevitable demise.

Bugs and other things you couldn’t name, crawled, itched and tickled the bare skin of your arms. A thousand things with a thousand names moved across you. Like they and the dirt owned you. It was easy to imagine that this is what it was like to be buried. In tombs and in coffins with maggots eating at your flesh. Yes, you thought, this is what it is like to be buried alive.  

The story of how you found yourself in this predicament is a rather long one, but you felt that while you were here, you might as well recall the tale.

Everything is always innocent in the beginning. 

You remembered the days when you did not understand phrases like ‘orc-play’ or ‘orc-work.’ The sun was out on a nice summer’s evening, a warm breeze rattled the leaves and there was not a cloud in sight. Tilting your nose to the sky you breathed it all in. You and your friends Walter, his brother William, Rosetta, Terry, and Evelyn were all headed into town for a nice day out in the market. In the coming weeks the town was going to hold a celebration in honor of Mr. and Mrs. Stubble’s newest addition to their family and everyone was quite excited. 

To get into town from your house you had to walk past the cherry trees owned by Mr. Fiddle, the town's physician. Up past the apple trees of farmer Robert. Past the wheat fields of the Lady Grey. By the fields that housed the cows and past the barns that held the goats and chickens. On this path you could find the stables and fencing where the horses roamed. And finally, the guard house of Sir Martin and into the front gates. 

But you had barely passed by the wheat fields with your friends pushing each other and laughing merrily when you saw an old man sitting on the roadside. When you got closer you could see the man was old and dirty, clothed in rags and a torn cloak drawn tightly over his shoulders, as if he was freezing under the hot sun. Your friends ignore him and trot right on by laughing and giggling like he wasn’t even there. 

You stopped and considered him, knowing you’d never forgive yourself if you'd left him there. If you’d walked past him and left him ignored. You knew that pain all too well. Instead, you crouched down in front of him and asked if you could take him to your home to help him and he agreed. 

A way down the path your friends notice your absence and they look behind them and scuff. Watching you help the man to his feet. “Leave him be Y/n!” They called. 

“What business could you have with a man like him?” They laughed, Walter patting Terry on the back as he smiled. You ignored them at first but said, “My friends! I see your hearts are empty this evening. I will meet you tomorrow for lunch at the Inn.” You left your friends unsatisfied and grumbling as you led the man to your home. Though they did agree to meet you for lunch. 

Upon arrival you prepared a nice warm bath for him and helped the man into it. Scrubbing his back and washing his dark gray hair and pouring a cup of water over his head. It looked overgrown and his bushy beard was long. You asked if he’d like it trimmed but the old man did not reply. In fact, he did not say much during his time with you. He only kept his head low and bowed to his chest. 

You thought it’d be a nice thing to do. A decent thing. So, once you’d scrubbed him clean of dirt and grime you pulled him to his feet, toweled him down, gave him a nice robe and sat him in one of your kitchen chairs. You took a comb and a pair of scissors to untangle his glossy locks and cut him a new look.  

You combed and snipped and brushed and clipped again and again until you could see some resemblance of his face. He was handsome for his age, and you thought that he must have been breathtaking in his youth. Surely, he’d been a heart breaker in his day. When you’d shaped his beard to his face you grabbed some soap and applied it to his neck. Taking your only razor you shaved his neck clean and when you finally finished, you brushed his freshly cut bangs to the side, and you smiled at the sight of brown eyes. 

Deciding that the man needed some food to fill his belly and medicine for the night, you got up and went to the kitchen, working to prepare a hot home cooked meal for him. “Who are you?” You asked. No reply came, only the sound of his strained breathing answered you. 

You felt frustrated at first. After everything you’ve done for him, he would not give you his name? Quickly, you chastised yourself. This stranger was exhausted, sick and hungry. You knew you would be if you were in his place. After all, you did find him on the roadside. Give him time, you thought, he’ll come around. 

You didn’t have much in your pantry, but you cooked him mashed potatoes, some leftover meat, a bread roll and what fresh vegetables you had. While you were cooking you opened your cupboard and stared up at the only medicine you had. Medicine in this part of the land was hard to come by and very expensive. 

Most people couldn’t afford good quality medicine, nor did they have the skills to know what herbs helped and what didn’t. You were no exception. What herbs you grew were for cooking and tea. So, when a merchant came into town hungry and recently robbed of his belongings by bandits and thieves. You got him to trade you for the sole surviving item—elvish medicine. 

To even fulfill a mere fraction of the price you had to house him for a two week stay in your home, three hot meals a day, fresh clothes for each day, six of your best hens and a rooster, supplies for the road, your donkey, and what coin you could spare him. The whole thing nearly bled you dry.

Typically, only rich nobles could afford it. But when you confronted the man, he said he was going to trade it in exchange for gold so he could buy what he needed. Not only for what he needed during his stay in town but also his supplies for his trip. In the end the man had pity on you and accepted what you were willing to give him once you shared about your father…

You looked behind you at your guest. His head was bowed, hair dangling in his face, the robe pulled tight around his shoulders, and was shaking with fever. You looked back to the medicine and felt a shadow pass over you. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around the tonic and placed it beside his plate. 

When the food was finished you quietly placed the steaming plate in front of him with butter and jam for his bread and a warm cup of tea. “Eat up.” You say. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll give you some medicine and then you can rest.” 

The man didn’t seem to notice at first, but after a moment, he picked up the fork and knife and began to eat. You sat at the table beside him thumbing the elven medicine. To pass the time you told him about your day and the upcoming events for the town hoping that he’d find it within himself to speak. 

Once he had finished and downed the medicine you supplied him, you helped him up your stairs and placed him in your bed to sleep. You went to leave, intending on talking to the seamstress about fresh clothes for him. It’d be expensive and there was a possibility you could not afford it, but you hoped the investment would be worth it. However, the man stopped you with a gentle grasp on your hand. 

“Thank you.” He said. You smiled, shocked and surprised to hear him speak, but pleased to hear it. “I was happy too.” You say. 

The old man looked at you, scrutinizing your face before nodding to himself, having decided something. “Listen stranger, I will not last till morning, this I feel deep within my bones. For your kindness and generosity, I will give you my land, my house, my animals, my fields, and I will order my servants to serve you as they served me. They will tend to you loyally, as if you were my blood. I will claim you as my heir and everything I have will be yours.” He coughed, lurching up from the bed in a fit. You were speechless, but quickly reached out to steady him, soothing him with sweet words as you did. You couldn’t believe what the man had said. What could this man possibly offer you? Was he not homeless? Without belongings? How could he claim to give you such grand things? You thought for sure he had lost his mind to old age. 

When his coughing had ceased, he gripped your shoulder and said, “Fetch me a paper and quill, and bring me Sir Thomas, my counselor, as witness. The man tends to set up his work at the law house. Tell him that Lord Arthur calls for him, and that it is urgent. Do this, and I’ll fulfill my promise.” 

Flabbergasted, your jaw fell to the floor. You didn’t know what to do, what to think! But your body moved on its own accord, and you rushed off to fetch Arthur what he asked for. 

You sprinted down your stairs throwing open the door to what used to be your father’s study. Running to the desk you grabbed a fist full of the cleanest papers you could find, and swiped the quill and ink, stumbling over your father’s chair in your haste. Quickly, you delivered what you had to your room, placing them on the bedside table. Before you turned, practically throwing yourself down the stairs with the unusual haste that consumed your being. You did this despite your misgivings and beliefs about the man’s sanity. Still, something in you told you to hurry, so you slung your warmest coat over your shoulders and grabbed your hat, clumsily falling out your front door. 

You raced to town as fast as your legs could carry you and ran past the front gates. 

“Excuse me! Coming through!” You shouted. Darting between men and women, evading rolling carts, ducking beneath overhanging signs, clipping shoulders and occasionally slamming into someone’s side. The people shouted at you, shaking their fists in the air and scolding you harshly as you ran through town. But you ignore them, dashing up the steps of the Law House and slamming open the door. “Excuse me!” You cried. A man startled up from his desk with a shout saying, “What? What is it?!” 

The man was tall and dressed in ivory robes. He had long strands of waved hair like gold, a trimmed beard around his face and his eyes were a sharp green. 

“I’m looking for Sir Thomas, a man that knows the law and counsels’ others, are you him?” 

“I am.”

“Then come quick!” You cried. “Lord Arthur calls you to my house and claims that he won’t survive the night.” 

The man moved at once, shoving all necessary papers and documentation into a brown bag and dashed for the entrance. Seeing him move, you turned on your heel and ran back to your house with shaky legs and empty lungs. Thomas followed you, overtaking your steps when he saw your house. “Where is he?” He asked.

“Up the stairs and in my bedroom!” 

Thomas flew past you; up the dirt path of your home and you watched him fling open your door and charge in. You tried to keep up, but your body was tired, and you slowed your pace to a walk, gasping for breath. When you made it to your door you leaned against the frame sweating and holding a hand to your chest as you wheezed. Goodness, I need to run more. 

Once you were sure your heart would not burst, you shut the door behind you and climbed up your stairs, following the soft voices that drifted down from your room. 

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Your day seemed so normal and sunny; how could it have turned so quickly? Though, you supposed it was for the best, whether the man could fulfill his claims or not the thought of him dead on the side of the road filled you with great sadness. You couldn't imagine what it’d be like to be sick and hungry, dying while uncaring people walked past you. Alone. Too tired to even ask for help. You shuttered and hugged yourself at the thought. You look into your room, but stay back in the hall for privacy's sake, your door open. Dying alone had to be the worst fate you could think of. 

It was well after dark when Thomas bowed his head, grabbing the sheets and slowly dragging them up over Arthur. Your heart sank, such a shame, you thought. It appeared that Arthur's assumption had been correct; he did not make it through the night. 

Thomas stood there a moment holding the bag close to his chest with his hand over the deceased. You wondered briefly if Thomas knew the dead well. He seemed so struck over Arthur’s passing and you didn’t know what to do. You stood there in an empty hall, watching as a man grieved instead of offering your condolences. At the very least, you could offer him tea. With that in mind, you quietly left making your way back down to the kitchen and putting some water over the fire to boil. 

Everything had happened so fast, and it left you confused and tired. Your mind felt as numb as your legs. You took a seat at the table listening to the fire crackle and pop and the cricket’s chirp. You rested your head in your hands unsure of what to do. The man, who you knew now as Arthur, was dead. Most importantly he lay dead upstairs. 

There was a dead man lying in your bed. 

You dragged your eyes around the dark room and furnishings. Did a person burn their bed and bedding when someone died? Certainly, they didn’t just wash and keep it for use. You scrunched up your nose at the thought, something in you churning at the idea of keeping the items in your house let alone putting them to use again. I wonder if I should ask the Lady Grey, you thought, her son is well versed in death. Afterall, he helps bury the coffins he creates. Maybe he’ll know how to dispose of unsavory items. 

And what about all those claims Arthur made? Should I ask Thomas about it? You yawned. Leaning back and listening to the wooden chair creak as you rubbed your eyes, exhausted. Would it even be right to accept those things if they were true? Did he not have any close relatives to take his land? And if he did have such grand things why then, did I find him on the roadside in rags? 

All this you pondered, your mind ran through and questioned every detail you could remember but you could not come up with a suitable answer or theory to solve the mystery of how this problem, and Arthur, had come to you. After a while you settled for hoping that Thomas could provide you with all the answers you wanted but you doubted it. 

The sound of water sizzling against coals caught your attention and you leapt up, quickly pulling the pot away from the flames and laying it to cool on the counter, leaving the tea too steep. You turned your attention back to your table where you still had messy dishes from when Arthur ate his last meal and you felt sorrow creep into your bones. You wish you had given him better food for a last supper. Alas, what was done was done. 

Sighing, you gathered up the dirty dishes and brought them to your sink to clean and swept up the hair off your floor. After all, it’d keep you busy while you waited, and it needed to be done anyway. You scraped whatever food remained off the plate and rinsed out the cup. The sound of running water worked to keep the silence at bay. Till you heard your stairs groan and your heart jumped into your throat with nerves, abruptly, you dropped the dishes to soak, shutting off the water. You barely got your hands dry before Thomas trudged in looking as exhausted as you felt. His eyes were rimmed red, his lips pinched, and he clutched his bag close to his chest with white fingers. 

All was still as you looked at each other, both of you at a loss for what to do next and the silence grew thick. 

“I—my apologies,” he cleared his throat and bowed his head low to his chest. “I did not mean to interrupt.” 

You smiled, his voice was deep and charming, effortlessly adding to the choir of crickets outside. 

“It is alright, I have just finished.” You gestured to your now clean table, “Please sit. I’ll get us some tea.” He nodded grateful for the distraction and sat heavily in his chair. 

From your cupboards you grabbed the best mugs you had and poured the drinks. Carefully you set the steaming beverage in front of him trying not to splash any out the sides. 

“Here, it is still hot so be careful.” 

“Thank you.” 

You gingerly took the seat closest to him as he had chosen to sit at the head of the table. And you didn’t want to risk offending him by moving too far away. Out of nervousness you licked your lips and skipped your eyes from him, “Well, Sir, I do not have much experience with matters such as this, so I’ll let you lead, when ready, of course. But know I have many questions for you.” 

Thomas sighed, dropping his bag to the floor and leaning back replacing the hold he had on his bag with the mug. “Yes, I know you do.” 

He stared into his drink for a time turning things over in his head and you let him do so in silence. Confident that once he had thought things over, he would have a quick and concise explanation. Though it seems you were out of luck. 

He took a sip from his drink and locked his gaze on you, but you squirm underneath his eye and could not meet his gaze instead you watched the fire lick the brick walls of its home. “I have decided that I will explain what I can in the morning but for now I insist that you come with me to town.” 

“What?!” 

Your head snapped around and you felt your neck pop, but Thomas looked resigned. “Yes, I believe that with all that has happened today it would be better if we continued in the morning.” 

“But-but I.” All you could do was stare dumbfounded. “I have so many questions!” You shove yourself to your feet, “And I cannot leave for town at this hour! I will stay on the couch tonight, if need be, but I will not go into town! Not at this hour.” 

You glared at your guest, unable to believe the absurdity of the situation. Awake all night with a dead man lying in your bed and he wouldn’t even answer you! He wouldn’t even consider sharing some of what he knows?! This was outrageous! Absurd!  

Thomas leaned into the table with passion in his eyes and desperation dripping from his lips. “My friend!” He exclaimed. “I do not ever plan on withholding information from you! Nor do I intend to. But I, well—” he gestured towards himself with a wave of his hand— “I cannot, do not, have it in me to continue with this tonight.” 

You paused your anger dwindling as you observed the man at your table. Indeed, he did look wary, and his shoulders slouched like he carried a great burden on his back and all at once you remembered this man mourning at Arthur’s bedside and shame flooded your heart. Here you were berating a grieving heart that could go no further than it had. Your mother would have skinned your hide. 

“My apologies, friend.” You placed a firm hand on his shoulder in comfort, “I forgot myself.”  

The corner of his mouth quirked, “No, I’m afraid you hadn't. I too would demand an explanation as to why I had a dead man in my house. In fact, you have been quite hospitable to me. The only thing you have forgotten to give me is your name.” 

You flushed red, “Ah, sorry, I am called Y/n.” 

At that Thomas grinned and raised his mug to you. “It is a pleasure Y/n.” 

“Yes, indeed it has been for you as well.” 

He ran a hand through his locks of gold and sighed, “And if it helps to convince you to come into town with me. I’ll tell you everything first thing in the morning and whether you like what I have to say or not I’ll buy new furniture and bedding for your room.”

Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you felt your reluctance break away. You could not afford to buy a new set of furnishing, nor could you imagine laying in that bed knowing that the dead had slept there also. But you couldn’t really afford a night at the Inn either… 

You shook your head, “I would agree to this, but I cannot pay for a night at the Inn anymore, the master there has raised the price too high.” 

Thomas shook his head and waved your words aside, “Nonsense! If that's what's stopping you, then I will pay for your room tonight.” 

“Oh, but I could not ask-” 

“But you aren’t! I am offering you my favor, after all, you are the one who has done so much already! Saving a man, you did not know from dying on the side of a dirt road? That is a good deed to be repaid.” 

Still, you hesitated, “Are you sure? I do not want to intrude.” 

Thomas grasped your hand with an endearing look in his eyes, “My dear, if it was such a trouble for me, I would not have offered.” 

“Well.” A small smile graced your lips, and you raised your free hand in defeat, “Alright, consider me convinced! I will go with you.” 

He clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He pulled himself to his feet and motioned towards the door with a bow, hair falling from his shoulders. “After you.” Startled from his fine gesture and a little numb in the mind. You took one last look at your table, staring at the mugs still full of tea. I’ll clean those when I come back in the morning. Quickly you stamped out the fire and then without any further delay, you headed towards town with Thomas as your escort.

Part 2

Masterlist

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Chaos Chapter 4

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

Wynstan noticed the other arbiters were giving him displeased looks. “What? I didn’t actually blow anything up this time…”

Osbeorn pointed at the desk he had been using. “Really now?”

“Reactions. Nothing but reactions.”

“Isn’t an explosion a type of reaction though?” Razor pointed out.

This warranted a mild glare from Wynstan. He then approached Razor with an inquisitive look. “And who might you be?”

Tusk cleared his throat. “Well that’s Magnus’ son, Razor.”

It then occurred to the messy arbiter who was standing next to him. “Tusk! Good to see you again!”

“You too, Wynstan,” he replied as they shook hands and high-fived.

“Sorry to give you the chilly reception, friend,” Wynstan apologized as he vigorously shook Razor’s hand.

Ealdhelm stepped over to the main podium. “Once Ultimatum arrives with Adelheid and Ulrich, we can really get down to business…” He was interrupted by a bird made of magic, dropping a note before him. “Oh? Let’s see what we have here…”

“10 coins says it’s one of the champions” Wynstan muttered to Tusk.

“Probably.”

Ealdhelm groaned. “General Raisa appears to be bothering the three.”

“Called it,” Wynstan announced.

“I’ll go help them,” Tusk declared.

“Are you sure about that?” Ealdhelm questioned. “Raisa is quite the handful.”

Before Tusk could speak, Mayhem stepped forward. “Then follow me! Dragutin will get us there in no time.”

“Very well,” Ealdhelm confirmed. “Don’t hesitate to call on us if things get out of hand.”

The two made their way to the courtyard, with Razor tagging along. He was nervous, but also wanted to get in on the action. Standing in the hallway leading outside was a humanoid goat in royal blue clothes. His fur was dark purple, his ears and horns were upright, and he held a dark staff with a red stone hovering at the top of it.

“Hey, Tusk. Long time no see.”

“Randalph!” Tusk replied as they gave each other a best friend’s hug.

“So where are you guys heading off to?”

“The Droom Outskirts” Mayhem answered. “Apparently Raisa is bothering Ultimatum.”

“Oh jeez. Mind if I tag along?” Randalph asked.

Tusk continued to lead the group outside. “Of course. That would improve our chances greatly. Oh, Randalph, this is Razor Scully, Magnus’ son.”

The two shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Razor. I’m Randalph Theoprastus Scarfe. Tusk and I used to be alchemy students and explorers.”

“Yeah, dad and Chief Sigmund have mentioned you before.”

Randalph then looked at the stone arm. “Tusk, what in the blue blazes happened to your arm?”

“The Lich of Old, Randalph. I am never doing that again.”

Dragutin was sitting in the center of the courtyard and readied his wings as the group approached. “I trust that Ealdhelm got the note I saw, Mayhem?”

“Absolutely” he said as he climbed up onto the jabberwock’s back. “To the Droom Outskirts. Also this is Tusk and Razor, two of the people who were watching us at the arena.”

“A pleasure to meet you two” Dragutin greeted as Tusk got up on his back. “Hopefully your trip to the city went without problems?”

Tusk nodded. “Thankfully, given all the chaos around here at the moment.”

Razor could see that Dragutin did not have enough space on his back, so he began to turn into a wolf. He was stopped by Randalph. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Randalph pointed to a great bird flying towards them. “There will be no need for running. Here comes Otho…” An eagle as large as Dragutin landed in front of them, with Randalph giving the bird a pet along its head. “Let’s roll, Otho!”

Razor was helped up, but was startled when the bird made a light screech. “What kind of Eagle is this?”

“A void eagle. They are truly amazing birds to behold and tame.”

“Follow me lead, Otho” Dragutin instructed as he began to take off.

Meanwhile, Ultimatum was not having a good time. Adelheid and Ulrich were not in any danger, but it was ideal that Raisa did not follow them back to Droomopolis. Ultimatum insisted on handling this, despite Ulrich’s offer to help. Raisa was sixth dimensional and the angel was seventh dimensional. What should have been an easy fight was turning into a real hassle for him, however. Raisa was a lot more persistent than he had initially expected.

Raisa was an unbelievable opponent. Originally a mad scientist’s experiment, she had been appropriated and enhanced by Delphine. The champion had long, large arms lined with spikes and giant, clawed hands. Her skin was like a weird, sludge-like material, and her head looked like it had merged with a bodysuit meant to keep her contained. This was made clear by the fact that her head was sleek and shiny like rubber. She also had a face that had two, glowing eyes and a mouth full of shark-like teeth. Aside from that strangeness, she also had the body of a typical fit female. Normally Ultimatum would have dispatched her with ease, but the magic she had access to made winning easier said than done.

“Stand still, you slippery miscreant!” Ultimatum ordered as he fired arrows from a bow of shining light.

Raisa was teleporting around, laughing as she did. “Too slow! Close, but no cigar!”

Adelheid straightened out her rather fancy coat. “Come now, Ultimatum. Let’s finish this and be on our way.”

“Yes, Discordant Blood…”

“If you can’t deal with this little wench, what good are you to the ULTRAMagic Guild?”

“Hey, easy, Adelheid,” Ulrich cut in. “He’s doing his best…”

“His best is prolonging this journey, Discordant Gravity. Why were you so insistent on walking when we could have easily teleported to Droomopolis?”

Ulrich shook his head. “Because you don’t get out of your cathedral enough and need the fresh air.” She groaned because she knew Ulrich was right.

Raisa launched a punch at Ultimatum, who blocked it with a shield of light. “Cool! You should join Delphine and teach me that!”

Ultimatum chuckled. “Raincheck, but I’m free on the seventh at seven.”

“So it’s a date then!?” Raisa cackled. “Just don’t bring Adelheid. She’s stinky!”

Adelheid gave Raisa the most violent look imaginable as blood poured from under her coat, forming blades from her arms. “THAT’S IT, CURSE DELPHINE AND HER SMUG FACE! I’M THROTTLING THIS BRAT!”

As Ulrich went to stop Adelheid and calm her down, Dragutin and Otho touched down. Tusk and the others charged in, with the former leading the attack. He had covered his fist in a giant, stone gauntlet of which he used to punch Raisa, sending her flying into an abandoned building. The gauntlet crumbled, but Tusk did not expect it to last. Raisa took a second to get up from the rubble and was laughing as she did.

“That was awesome! Show me how to…” Raisa immediately realized the odds were not in her favor as the entire group approached her. “That’s all, folks!” she said in a comedic tone before running away as fast as she could.

“Good riddance” Adelheid growled as she dispelled her blood.

Ulrich dusted off his office shirt and pants. “It just occurred to me that Raisa doesn’t fully grasp the fact that she’s sixth dimensional now.”

Ultimatum breathed a sigh of relief. “Tusk, good to see you again.”

“I trust you’re not going to bounce on us again, Ultimatum?”

“No, not this time,” he replied with a laugh. “Thanks for the assist, that was incredibly annoying. Situations like that make me question my journey to The Final Azoth sometimes.”

“Hey, Ultimatum!” Razor held out his hand.

“Razor, good to see you again! Is that ULTRAMagic I sense?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes indeed. I’m going to join the guild when we’re done.”

Ultimatum gave a calm, triumphant laugh. “We’ll be happy to have you, Razor.”

Adelheid cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “As fun as this reunion is, gentlemen, we ought to be moving on before the sun sets.”

Ulrich exhaled. “Don’t mind Adelheid, guys. She’s just cranky over having to go outside for once.” The others laughed while she gave him an annoyed look. “Nice to meet you, Tusk and Razor,” Ulrich said as he shook their hands. Despite being a Discordant God, he was dressed rather casually and looked like he worked in an office. He also had a very friendly demeanor.

Taking a moment to admire the surreal beauty of the setting sun, Ultimatum began walking towards Droomopolis. “Alright, let’s get moving. Lord only knows what else we’ll have to deal with out here.”

As the group walked, Mayhem went ahead with Dragutin and Otho to tell the arbiters the good news. The rest of the journey went without any interruptions. Razor was concerned about Raisa returning, but Ulrich assured him that was unlikely. Delphine treasured Raisa and would not send her into a situation she could not handle.

Adelheid had been studying Tusk and Razor as they walked. “Tusk, was it? While I appreciate your assistance, are you sure you’re up to the challenge? You got in a lucky shot, but I question whether or not you’re up to par for this conflict.”

Tusk looked bewildered. “That’s a lot of words to ask if I’m ready for this…”

“I can personally assure that Tusk’s a capable mage and alchemist, Discordant Blood,” Randalph vouched.

“Indeed” she replied in a skeptical tone.

“I think you’ll do fine, Tusk,” Ulrich said as he scratched his stubble.

Randalph tapped Tusk’s arm. “You really need to visit Limbo sometime. Grendel has really missed you.”

“Yeah, I probably should. How’s he doing?”

“Great. He’s really perfecting his shapeshifting. In fact, he should be in Droompolis at the moment.”

Razor looked confused. “A shapeshifter?”

“Yes,” Randalph answered. “My homeland moves across Limbo and we picked him up one day when I was but a mere kid becoming a buckling. Grendel is a colony lifeform that my family adopted.”

“Oh, wow. That’s cool.”

Tusk nodded. “Yeah. I think you’ll like him, Razor. Randalph, you also need to swing by the forest when you get the chance. The scrolls and tomes I brought back from the Dark Grand Desert are unbelievable.”

“You don’t say,” Randalph replied. “Given the waves your battle sent through the realms, I’d be surprised if they weren’t. Did you happen to find any unique alchemical formulas?”

“Tons…” Tusk picked up a rock and transmuted it into a metallic, purple sphere that appeared to function as a compass. “And this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Just be careful, you two,” Ultimatum cautioned. “The Great Unspeaker has a great deal of forbidden knowledge in his archives.”

Ulrich laughed. “Don’t let Kleitos hear that. He’ll be all over that place like a moth to a flame.”

“Don’t worry, guys,” Tusk said in a reassuring, yet slightly dismissive tone. “Fun is the name of the game for me and Randalph, like that one time we used a grand scroll formula to make an ice cream castle!”

Randalph cleared his throat. “That was his idea. I advised against it.”

Tusk smiled. “True, but we still had fun, didn’t we?”

His friend shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, not going to lie.”

“See, there you go,” Ulrich stated. “Those who are humble and passionate have nothing to fear from knowledge.”

Adelheid giggled. Tusk was starting to grow on her. “I’ll give you that, Tusk; You’ve certainly got spirit.”

Now it was Razor’s turn to chuckle. “You should have seen him a couple of months ago.” He then stood still, as if mimicking a tree. The others laughed.

The spark in the group’s souls was becoming more apparent to Adelheid. “Normally I wouldn’t say this so casually, but you certainly seem to have a lot more potential than the rabble that offers their services on the regular…” As she said that, what remained of the Vestergaard knights were in full retreat towards Droomoplis. “See what I mean?”

Ultimatum took a second to process that only three of the seven knights were there. “Dear God! I guess those who boast the loudest have the most to hide…”

Razor looked concerned. “Should we help them?”

Ulrich placed his hand on his shoulder. “Leave them be. This is a lesson they need to learn on their own. It won’t do them any good for us to interfere.”

Tusk nodded. “If we help them now, they’ll potentially think they can rely on us for everything. I’m all for helping people out, but Sir Gebhard sounds like he has some maturing to do.”

Razor nodded in acceptance. “Oh, I see.” He could sense that Tusk was still offended by being called a ‘sapling.’

Next: Chapter 5

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[spicysix]

i was a no (never 'maybe'?)

"Robin takes her by the waist with one hand as the other reaches her face for a caress. Their eyes meet and Chrissy smiles before tilting forward. Her skin is silky smooth and as their lips meet there are fireworks- “Whatcha’ doin’?” Eddie’s voice is right by her ear. ❀ She’s pressed against a door, and Chrissy’s hands are on both sides of her head. She smells citric, her hair’s up in that cheerleader ponytail with the bow to make it better. Her lips are glossy, and Robin knows they taste of berries, and she confirms it once Chrissy leans in and their lips meet. There are fireworks- “What are you doing?” Robin wakes up from her daydreaming with Nancy’s voice behind her." or: Robin has a chronic problem of daydreaming about her crush.

warnings/tags: pining, friends-to-lovers, farmer market!AU, Robin is gay and oblivious, everyone else is gay and a meddler, fluff!! word count: 3.8k author's note: happy buckingham taking over jargyle jursday - so i guess it's Buckingham Bursday? anyway. and happy pride! 💚🏳️‍🌈 entirely based on the song and music video of 'chance' by Hayley Kiyoko (lesbian Mother yayyyy). you decided this one, remember that poll? heh, thanks for that. also shoutout to the ST rarepairs discord server for the help coming up with what everyone in this farmer market sells. hope y'all like it, happy reading! ♡

↳ ao3

Robin takes her by the waist with one hand as the other reaches her face for a caress. Their eyes meet and Chrissy smiles before tilting forward. Her skin is silky smooth and as their lips meet there are fireworks-

“Whatcha’ doin’?” Eddie’s voice is right by her ear.

“SHIT!” she shrieks, startled, before turning to face Eddie as he has a knowing smirk on his lips. Steve is behind him, trying to hold in his laughter. “I’m not doing anything!” she defends herself even if she knows they’re not gonna buy it.

“If you’d just let us meddle, you’d be together by now,” Eddie says as he shrugs.

Robin’s eyes go back to where they were just a few seconds ago. Chrissy is now talking to a client, a candle in their hand as she tries to make a sale. Robin knows that one, it’s the Lemon Meringue. Robin has three of them. The client should buy it, even if the delicious refreshing citric smell is not what makes them, Chrissy’s smile should do it. It’s what does it for Robin, anyway.

“I’m not gonna let you two idiots meddle. Either this will happen by god’s own will, fate’s written words, me growing metaphoric lesbian female balls, or it won’t happen at all!” she answers without taking her eyes off of the client putting down the Lemon Meringue and picking up the Passionfruit Martini. An excellent choice too. Robin once had six of them from when Chrissy started trying them out. She’s down to just one now, finally.

A loud bleat interrupts her train of thought, and Eddie’s screaming goat scares Hennifer Aniston and she starts cackling loudly as well.

“Jesus Christ, get out of here with your Baphomet,” Robin shoos Eddie and he laughs before pulling the rope around the goat’s neck. Robin picks up the chicken, Hennifer’s a very cuddly one so she calms down once she’s in Robin’s arms.

“This one’s Phillip, babe, you’re mixing them up,” Eddie says.

“They all look the same and you know it!” Robin fights back and he just waves a hand in the air, not caring about Robin’s antics. He knows she’s just mad because he’s a meddler.

“So do your chickens, by the way,” Steve notes as Robin puts Hennifer back in her little playpen.

“They do not! Stop siding with your boyfriend, don’t you have jam or pies or cakes to sell or whatever?” she retorts once again and Steve laughs. “You gay people don’t take care of your own lives and want to meddle in mine! Absurd!”

“We’re bisexual, don’t erase our sexualities! You’re gay people too, Bobbin, and my love life isn’t disastrous as yours is so I could be a good adviser.” He shrugs before leaving a few bills on Robin’s counter and picking up a tray of eggs she had separated for him earlier. “But you’re right, I do have jam and pies and cakes to sell. See you later, Bobs.”

She hums at him as he leaves for his own stall. The peak rush hours are closing in and Robin will get busy soon. She knows the chicken in a playpen gathers attention, and so does the little poster she has containing the chicken’s informations — name, age, personality. Kids love them. And the parents love the eggs, she’s been on the papers once with her high-quality chicken eggs. She’ll start getting her regulars in a few minutes and she’ll have to deal with her stall all alone because Nancy couldn’t help her in today.

Yet, she lets herself lose a few minutes more staring at Chrissy’s stall. The client is leaving with a Tangerine Drizzle — they clearly like the citric ones. Chrissy is counting the money and storing them away in her little detailed wood box, an Argyle Original. She doesn’t notice Robin staring, she never does.

A client approaches, and Robin lets out a sigh. She’s got work do to.

❀❀❀

She’s pressed against a door, and Chrissy’s hands are on both sides of her head. She smells citric, her hair’s up in that cheerleader ponytail with the bow to make it better. Her lips are glossy, and Robin knows they taste of berries, and she confirms it once Chrissy leans in and their lips meet. There are fireworks-

“What are you doing?” Robin wakes up from her daydreaming with Nancy’s voice behind her.

She squeals and turns around too fast, and the cornflakes in her bowl fly out and scatter around on the floor. The chickens are happy with that. Nancy is leaning against the fence, and the knowing smirk on her lips says it all.

“You really have to make a move, this is getting pathetic,” she says as Robin finishes spilling the corn.

Robin leaves the chicken coop and marks the tally on the mental note of tasks to be done.

“What’s with you bisexuals and your inability to stay away from my love life. I don’t wanna hear it from Ms. I Have A Boyfriend-In-Law.” She rolls her eyes as she starts going back to her house and Nancy follows after snorting.

“Jon and Argyle are pansexual, don’t erase their sexualities. And it’s called a polycule, by the way.”

“I’m not erasing-” Robin starts, but stops herself once she sees Nancy’s playful smile. She’s just teasing. “You people will be the death of me.”

Nancy just laughs again and they enter Robin’s house.

Chrissy’s there.

“Robin! Hi!” she greets excitedly when she turns around and sees them entering.

“Chrissy, hello,” Robin’s gotten better at not stuttering when she’s around her crushes. It took her half her life, yes, probably, but at least she’s got it now. She doesn’t ramble and babble awkwardly anymore. “Is there something I can help you with?” She’s also a professional.

“Steve asked me to get some eggs for him? Said he’s got a big order and can’t find the time to stop by himself,” she answers, that beautiful smile of hers still on her lips. Nancy is already heading to the place where the eggs are stored.

Robin narrows her eyes as discreetly as she can while her mind runs. Steve has no big orders this week. Robin knows that, because Steve lets her know every time he does, because she’s gotta separate the eggs for him. He would’ve told her about a big order.

Lying, meddling son of a bitch.

“Here it is, Chris,” Nancy shows up with two dozen eggs and Robin narrows her eyes again.

Chrissy hadn’t said how many eggs Steve asked for.

Lying, meddling sons of bitches.

“Thank you so much!” she says to Nancy before turning to Robin again, who’s just standing there acting weird. “Your birthday’s coming up, right? You’re gonna throw something?”

“Uh, yeah, next week. I don’t know, I’m not much of a partier. Maybe just a nice brunch,” she says, and Chrissy’s still looking at her with expectancy. “If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know, of course! You’re always invited.”

Robin’s answer widens her smile, and Chrissy looks down at her feet with blushed cheeks. Robin feels like screaming. She’s so fucking cute.

“What’s your favorite fragrance again?” she asks and Robin snorts.

Yours, she wants to say. She holds it in.

“Um,” she looks around.

There’s one of the Lemon Meringues on the table by the door. The last Passionfruit Martini is on her bedside table. She knows there’s a Cherry On Top somewhere in her office, and a Blackberry Cobbler in the living or the dining room. She’s been meaning to get a Tangerine Drizzle since she’s seen that client buying one that day, but she’s also been thinking a lot about a Banana Boat to replace the last one she had in the bathroom.

“Ambrosia Salad?” her answer is more of a question, because of course she can’t decide, but it seems to be enough for Chrissy. She tilts her head like a puppy dog — so adorable, really, Robin’s about to implode — and smiles again.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says. Robin’s heart is about to flutter out of her chest.

She hands the money to Nancy, who’s the one now just standing there, but she’s not being weird like Robin was, she actually has that annoying know-it-all smirk. Robin wants to strangle her.

But then Chrissy comes closer and leaves a kiss on Robin’s cheek, and maybe Robin is about to defy every single rule of the universe and become a puddle, liquefy instantly to the floor. Her cheeks are burning, and her brain seems to have short-circuited and, seriously, it’s fucked up that a single little blonde girl has so much power over her. That shouldn’t be allowed.

Chrissy leaves and Robin watches through the window as Chrissy crosses her lawn. She throws kisses to the chickens and Robin feels like she has no more place in her heart to fall in love even more, and yet she still does. Robin stares until she hops up on her bike and leaves, and she doesn’t notice Robin staring, she never does.

“Bet you wanted to answer ‘her perfume’ or something sappy,” Nancy says behind her and Robin turns around too fast, head going dizzy.

“Will you shut up!” she yells, and Nancy laughs.

“Robin, seriously. Talk to her! I could cut through the tension between you two five minutes ago.”

Robin doesn’t answer, instead, she comes up with a random topic to talk about. Jonathan’s and Argyle’s woodworking, or whatever. How’s that going? Selling lots of wood… works? Nancy lets her change the subject, because she knows Robin sucks at talking feelings, and honestly, Nancy kinda sucks at it too. With each other, at least.

“I wanted to say her actual skin smell, which is much better than any cheap or expensive perfume on the market, by the way,” she still teases back before Nancy leaves later that day, and Nancy laughs loudly and Robin lets herself giggle too.

When it doesn’t hurt like a bitch, being in love is actually kinda funny.

❀❀❀

They’re lying side by side on the grass, and their fingers are intertwined in between their bodies. Chrissy rolls to her side and so does Robin, and their noses almost touch. She’s got that pretty smile of hers that makes her blue eyes shrink until they almost disappear, her little wrinkles show how much she smiles all the time, and it makes Robin’s heart beat so fast. She leans in to kiss her, and the stars above them twinkle and there are fireworks-

“What doing?” Robin’s startled by a tiny voice beside her.

She’s sitting on the park grass, her back against a tree and she could’ve been more undercover if she had just remembered to put her sunglasses on her eyes instead of resting them on the top of her head.

“Doing nothing, Holly,” she answers, and the smallest of the Wheelers just shrugs and sits beside her on the grass.

“She’s pining. As usual,” Dustin answers, and only then Robin sees that the entire Party is there.

Holly doesn’t mind the answer, probably doesn’t even know what the word means, and just starts ripping grass out of the ground. Will and El sit close to Holly and start playing with her. Mike stands and hovers above the three of them, all knight-in-shining-armor pose.

“Huh, the babysat become the babysitters. Steve handed you the business keys?” she asks as the rest of the teenage menaces approach. “It used to be the other way around, you know? It was one guy with a gaggle of children, and now it’s one child with a gaggle of guys,” she finishes.

“Yeah, world’s funny that way, don’t try and change the subject, your pining is disgusting,” Dustin retorts and Robin rolls her eyes.

“Now the teenagers are meddling too, what have I done to deserve that?”

Robin stops looking at them, puts her sunglasses over her eyes this time, and focuses back on her initial interest. Chrissy and Heather are a few feet ahead having a picnic, far enough not to listen but close enough that Robin has a privileged view. They had picked a few flowers and Heather had weaved a few of them into Chrissy’s braided hair. She looks beautiful, like a fairy or something. Robin wants to be Heather so badly, touching Chrissy’s hair so absently, handing her flowers and basking in the late winter sun with her. If she didn’t know Heather was painfully straight, she would’ve been painfully jealous.

She swears she’s not stalking. They got here after she did. She just lost interest in the book she was reading before they appeared. But Chrissy didn’t notice her staring anyway, she never does.

“You and Chrissy have made it the entire town’s problem with your longing and yearning and lack of action. We’re obligated to see it, so you’re obligated to listen to our complaints until one of you actually goes ahead and asks the other out,” Max is leaning against the tree but Robin doesn’t tear her eye from Chrissy to look at the redhead.

“You’d be such a cute couple,” Lucas says and Robin wonders what kinds of sins she had committed to be karmically pestered by a gaggle of teenagers about her private business.

She’ll talk to the others later, tell them to get a hold of their younger siblings. They are so out of line.

“Look, you children don’t understand, okay? I don’t want to risk our friendship, because I like her very, very much. And this is a small town, and we have to see each other weekly and if things don’t work out it’ll be very awkward. There’s so much at risk, things that you kids have no idea about, and I will not! Risk them!” I won’t risk us, she wants to say.

They all look at her for a while after her heart-gutting speech. She looks back, defying them to say anything, and she’s almost sure she’s won her made-up staring challenge when they look at her with sympathy. But Erica ruins it.

“This is not about the gay thing, is it? Because, like, half of our group is part of the rainbow community, birds of a feather or whatever. Girl, we’ve been knowing.” Lucas hisses at his sister for her lack of touch, and she shrugs. “Just the facts.”

Robin takes a deep breath and starts thinking how she’ll answer that without cursing or being very rude and possibly scaring the Little Wheeler forever. Holly doesn’t deserve her rage, she’s clearly the best sibling in that family.

“She doesn’t even like me back, okay? Just the facts,” she mocks through gritted teeth. “Let’s just drop this,” is the best she can manage in a really dry tone, and she thinks it’s enough when they all go quiet again. Until Will speaks.

How did Steve manage, honestly? The man’s a saint, he’s gotta be. Kids are infuriating.

“Robin, I promise we’ll stop talking to you about this, and you don’t have to do as we say,” he says. “But, really. Just consider the possibility of talking to her. If it goes well, and I think it will, it really pays off,” he finishes and Mike, who’s still hovering and looking around as if a monster is about to appear out of nowhere, actually blushes. It’s almost cute.

Robin gives Will the smallest of smiles, that woman-love-woman to man-love-man solidarity smile, but doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t let them know that she’s considering following the advice coming from fucking teenagers (who all seem to have better love lives than she does, but that’s not the point).

Damn you, Will The Wise.

❀❀❀

She’s coming in Robin’s direction, the sun making her blonde hair shine bright and her skin glow, but her smile’s the most blinding of it all. She smiles at Robin in a way no one ever had, and it makes her warm inside. Chrissy’s finally close enough to touch, and Robin doesn’t hold herself and takes her face in between her hands. She smells of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, of laundry softener, of a flowery garden, she smells of home. Robin’s eyes almost tear up simply at the thought of her, and she can’t keep it in, she say’s ‘I love you’, and Chrissy answers, ‘I love you too’ before leaning in to kiss her, and Robin knows there are fireworks-

“Robin?” Chrissy’s voice sounds uncertain and it snaps Robin out of it.

Okay, she really is pathetic. Daydreaming about the girl while she’s talking to her, wow, this has reached a new level of absurdity.

“I’m sorry, so sorry!” she sputters, cheeks burning, hands sweating. “You were saying?”

“Just… happy birthday,” Chrissy smiles, hands Robin a gift box, but it’s such a small smile. A shy one, not good-shy, but fearful-shy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Robin can only nod, and she hands the gift box to Steve so he can keep it safe for her. No one around her is making any noise, and she knows they’re being watched by all these meddlers, so she glances at Joyce before turning to Chrissy again.

“Inside,” she almost whispers, before turning around and heading for the Byers’ house.

They’re having her birthday brunch there because Joyce’s porch is the best and her backyard is one of the only ones without animals or trees or woodworking stations. She also loves hosting, so it’s a win-win situation. Argyle cooked, Steve baked, Hop’s working on the barbecue and everyone’s having a great time.

Or, was. Until Chrissy appeared, made Robin’s brain stop working and now there’s that weird tension in the air. Robin knows she fucked up, she fucked up big time, but oh god, Chrissy looked so beautiful. She looked so beautiful every day, but she had such a pretty dress on today, and her hair was up in that cheerleader ponytail with a bow to make it better, and she has a shiny lip gloss that makes her lips look so kissable, and she smells of honey and coconut, and Robin wants her.

Robin wants her so badly, and Robin dreams of her when she’s asleep and when she’s awake too, and she has never wanted someone this much. And she has never known so deep inside her soul, how she can’t have someone as much as she knows she can’t have Chrissy. Robin’s not a particularly insecure woman, but she knows Chrissy would never pay her any mind.

“Why do you hate me?” Chrissy asks once they’re inside, and when she turns around to face Robin her eyes are wet.

“WHAT?” Robin yells, then cups her mouth for a second. “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have yelled, but. What?”

“I don’t understand. I keep catching you looking at me sometimes, but then you look away immediately and sometimes you look almost angry. You don’t hold big conversations with me, you seemed pissed at me that day with the eggs, and just now you weren’t even listening as I was talking.” Robin is in total shock as Chrissy starts listing things on her fingers. “It wasn’t like this! We were friends, Rob, and suddenly you started being so weird. Why invite me to your birthday if you don’t want me here?”

Yeah, they were friends and then Robin caught feelings. And apparently made it weird. Maybe she wasn’t as good with the girls she liked as she thought she was. She stopped rambling and babbling awkwardly, sure, but now she apparently shuts them out. Definitely not great either.

“Chrissy, I want you here, I do!” she says, and her voice falters because Chrissy has no idea how much Robin wants her. “I’m so sorry I made it weird, I just…” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and remembers Will’s words. Oh wow, that’s pathetic for sure. “I don’t wanna be just your friend, Chris. I want more.”

She opens her eyes to face her demise because if she’s gonna be turned down she’s gonna take it proudly.

“You want… more?” Chrissy asks, and she takes a step further into Robin’s space.

“Yes. I like you. So much. So much, it’s pathetic.”

“You… like me?” she asks again, eyes wide open, and Robin gulps before nodding. Oh, god, here comes the blow. “Oh, Robin.”

Robin has no time to ask ‘what?’ because Chrissy throws her arms around Robin’s neck and their lips touch.

For real.

There are no fireworks, actually.

Fireworks are deafening loud, they’re bright and blinding. They jet, they spiral, they splatter. They can be scary, they’re everywhere and they’re overwhelming, and they’re too much sometimes. Just like Robin is most times. Loud, spiraling, everywhere, and overwhelming. Too much.

Chrissy’s kiss is not too much. It’s just enough.

It’s calm, and it’s relaxing, and it’s giving and giving and giving, but it’s receiving just as much. It’s stillness in a once stormy ocean, it’s silencing of all the high-pitched sounds that can be deafening, it’s thrilling in a way that makes Robin’s heart stump loud but rhythmically. Robin’s body loosens up, tension and anxiety leaving her, brain going quiet in, for once, a good way. She’s not overwhelmed, her senses aren’t screaming at her, she’s focused on the present moment. Chrissy tastes of fruit, of course she does, and she smells of home because it’s what she is. Her skin is warm as Robin holds her with no intention of letting her go, but it’s nothing like her dreams.

Because it’s real. And it’s so much better.

They separate their lips but their foreheads are still touching.

“You have no idea how much Eddie and Heather have been pestering me to talk to you,” Chrissy whispers almost against Robin’s lips, and she snorts.

“Oh, I sure do.” She wants to hate her friends for being right all along, but she can’t find it in herself to be anything but insanely happy.

“We’ve been two blind idiots, haven’t we?” Chrissy giggles, and it’s angelic as a sound can be, and Robin wants to crack Chrissy’s ribs open and live inside her chest. She nods at Chrissy’s question.

“I was so sure you didn’t like me,” she admits. “I looked at you all the time, daydreaming of this all the time. Reality’s so much better.” She tightens her grip around Chrissy’s waist to prove her point, to prove to herself it’s real.

“You didn’t see me staring right back.” It’s not a question, because the answer is obvious.

“I was too much of a blind idiot to see it, apparently.” She smiles and she leans in and she kisses Chrissy again. Because, oh god, she can do that now.

“But you see it now?” Chrissy asks.

“My eyes are wide open, Chris. And I see you now.”

[angstyaches]

If you’re still taking prompts, would you write something with Donnacha looking after Henry? Maybe since Henry doesn’t want to go out and hasn’t been shopping, he eats something that’s gone off and it makes him really sick

CW: depression, anxiety around social cues, idk how to tag this but Henry is repeatedly triggered by things he knows are unreasonable but is triggered nonetheless, food mention, food poisoning, chronic pain mentioned, spicy times (hinted at; happening in another room), stomach ache, nausea, emeto, platonic cuddling, platonic kissing, platonic caretaking, brief mention of break-up (Donnacha and Autumn).

Word Count: 4,500 (yeah)

___ 

Henry slowly moved the fork towards his mouth, barely able to convince his lips to come apart long enough to place a scrap of spaghetti Bolognese inside. Then, it was just a case of convincing his jaws to work so that he could chew. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work, he reckoned.

He’d cooked this three days ago, when he’d been hit by a sudden wave of inspiration regarding taking care of his own basic needs. (Bolognese was one of the only things he knew how to make.) He’d also had an exceptionally long shower and shaved his neck that night. Stubble had already found its way back to him, and he hadn’t felt the urge to cook anything else.

He made a face as he chewed. Had his cooking always been this bland, or were his tastebuds checking out as punishment for the lack of variety he’d been offering them? Or maybe he’d blasted them to hell with the microwaved leftovers without realising it? It wasn’t unheard of for Henry to accidentally damage himself and not realise it until hours later.

Still, the food itself couldn’t be too bad, since he hadn’t automatically retched after taking the first bite. His body just liked to complain.

He glimpsed over a couple of pages of The Catcher in the Rye while he ate. The book was one of the oldest things he still owned, gifted to (stolen for?) him by his secondary school English teacher when the school had downsized their library. It still had a list of names glued to the title page, all of them students who had graduated long before he’d even started at the school.

He looked up as he heard the front door click, eyeing the space in the hall that was visible from the living room table.

A low, tittering giggle made his ears tingle. It didn’t match up with the sounds of anybody who usually came through here.

“Don’t worry!” Lucy. “I would’ve tripped, too, but I’m weirdly well-coordinated. I’m like a mountain goat.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, for no one’s benefit in particular. Lucy was so loud when she was tipsy. And such a liar, too. He’d seen her trip over empty air more times than he could count.

She popped into view, tipping her pink-haired head forward and looking into the living room out of habit. All of the flatmates usually did this, sussing out who was already home and occupying the common space.

She had a ‘friend’ with her. The giggler. She was a good half-foot taller than Lucy, helped by a pair of patent black platform sandals.

“Hi, Henry.” Lucy stood with her shoulders pulled back further than normal, with her hands held behind her back. It always amused Henry, just how differently she acted while she was in the middle of seducing someone. Like him, she was a bit of a social shapeshifter. “This is Cassidy.”

“Hi, Cassidy.” Henry was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was a) wearing a tattered wool sweater on top of yet another wool sweater and b) holding a steaming spoonful of spaghetti Bolognese halfway up to his mouth. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks,” Cassidy grinned. “They tripped me up on the stairs.”

Henry had guessed as much. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Cassidy took hold of Lucy’s arm. “Ooh, what are you reading there?”

Henry lifted his book to show her the cover.

“Salinger, nice,” Cassidy smiled. Henry didn’t have a good enough grasp on her personality to know if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but what he did know was that she’d just pronounced the ‘g’ in ‘Salinger’ as though it should made a ‘guh’ sound.

He opened his mouth to correct her. “Actually, it’s –”

“We’re going to my room now,” Lucy interrupted. She sounded like a six-year-old bragging about their action figure collection.

Henry nodded sardonically. “Happy for you, hon.”

This was… partly true. He was about five percent happy for his bestie, while ninety percent of his emotional capacity was leaning towards envy and self-hatred. Henry hadn’t brought anyone home in so long that, out of sheer pity, Lucy had stopped outwardly teasing him about it.

The remaining five percent? It was burning with dissatisfaction at not being able to correct Cassidy’s pronunciation of ‘Salinger’.

The two girls continued down the hall, and Henry finally finished bringing his fork to his mouth. His chewing grew a bit more aggressive, and he scooped up some more Bolognese before he’d even swallowed.

His last attempted hook-up had spooked him a little bit, but that had been months ago. Maybe it was time to get back on the apps. Maybe he’d do it tonight. Maybe he’d stay up late, make himself look pretty, take a few new selfies to post –

No. Henry scowled, taking another flavourless bite. No procrastinating. He had a few pretty big commissions on his plate right now, and one of them in particular needed at least a few hours of his attention tonight. And it was already nearing 11pm, as the cat-shaped pendulum clock on the wall informed him.

Shit. Where is the name of all that was holy had the evening gone?

With his stomach relatively full, and his deadline anxiety spiking, Henry started to get up from the table. He grabbed his plate with one hand and his cane with the other, and brought his leftovers (left-leftovers?) to the kitchen.

___

As he settled into his desk chair, Henry pulled on some noise-cancelling headphones to drown out the sounds of t.A.T.u. that were drifting through the wall he shared with Lucy’s room. He didn’t object to Lucy’s music choices in the slightest, but he preferred to block everything out with white noise when he had work to do.

“It’s Salinger,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing Cassidy wouldn’t hear him, but needing to say it in order to move on to the next tasks at hand.

Less than two minutes after he’d pulled up his most pressing project, Henry could feel a steady stream of vibrations beginning just below his ribcage. He briefly pressed a hand against his side, feeling a ripple under his fingers. He didn’t think much of the mild discomfort. Besides a banana and a cup of tea, the leftover Bolognese had been the only thing he’d eaten all day.

He’d have to order groceries soon. He hated how much he dreaded it; he knew he was privileged to live in an age where he didn’t have to drag himself out to the supermarket, but somehow, the mental toll of shopping online was almost as hefty as the physical toll of leaving the apartment.

Maybe he should open a new internet tab and get it over with right now, while he had a vague sort of motivation to do it –

No. Henry gritted his teeth. That was just the urge to procrastinate again. And it was far too late in the day for that.

A streak of light sat across his computer screen, drifting in from the hallway. He always left the door ajar unless he was sleeping. The light hitting the screen swelled now, indicating that someone was opening the door further.

Henry almost screamed at the sudden interruption. Sure, not everybody in the world knew he had just sat down to get some work done, but… they should have!

“What?” he snapped, a little harsher than intended. He spun his chair to face the door as it opened the rest of the way, pulling off his headphones.

Donnacha’s hair was sticking up in the back and sides as he stood there, in light grey tracksuit pants and a Rick and Morty hoodie. He grimaced at Henry’s tone.

“Do you have any spare headphones?”

Henry frowned, his brain still struggling to switch gears. “Uh… yes? My old ones. Why?”

“Well, I left my ear buds at the gym, and… Lucy’s got her ‘getting lucky’ playlist on.” Donnacha grimaced widely and pointed in the general direction of Lucy’s room. “And I’d rather not be hearing it, to be honest.”

“Oh. Well, they’re not noise-cancelling –”

“That’s absolutely grand. I would go and hang out in the living room instead, but it’s freezing out there.” Donnacha pointedly rubbed at his arms, despite looking like a big, comfy marshmallow in his hoodie. “I’d rather be in bed.”

“Mmm.” Henry unplugged his extra set of headphones and extended them towards Donnacha.  

“You’re a lifesaver, Hen.”

“Don’t get the cord tangled,” Henry said, eyeing the way Donnacha immediately began to twirl said cord around his fingers.

“Who, me?” Donnacha grinned pointedly. His eyes flicked towards Henry’s computer screen. “What are you working on?”

“Just… work.” Henry had no desire to elaborate further. One of the most unfair things about social interaction, he’d always thought, was that there was no such thing as a neutral, concise answer. Concise answers were always misinterpreted, either as annoyed, disinterested, or simply rude.

“It’s kinda late to still be working.”

“I suppose it is.”

“’Kay,” Donnacha mumbled. He held the headphones up a little higher, as though waving goodbye with them. “’Night, then. Thanks.”

“Night.”

Henry turned back to his computer, pulled his headphones back on, and slipped back into his work.

___

The stomach ache crept up on him while he was in a fog of concentration, brows in a semi-permanent frown and eyes straining to keep digital lines and text from blurring. It only occurred to him that he should take a short break when a soft belch rumbled up from the pit of his belly and he tasted the tomato and basil from his dinner – much more clearly now than he had when he was actually eating it.

With his headphones blocking all outside noise, he wondered just how loud the belch had just been. Perhaps Lucy and Cassidy had just had their good time interrupted by an eruption from the depths of Henry’s stomach, and he was none the wiser.

He only worried about that for a nanosecond, though.

“Oh – Jesus, really?” Henry whispered to himself as he sat back in his desk chair.

He cradled his belly lightly with one hand. The pain seemed to slam into him all at once. As someone whose body tended to let him down at the most inopportune moments, Henry wasn’t all that surprised or concerned about the appearance of a stomach ache – but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel severely inconvenienced.

Henry snatched his glasses from his face and rubbed at his forehead, too. He wasn’t sure how massaging his head would help his stomach, but it comforted him a little bit. He glanced up in time to see the streak of light spreading across his computer screen again.

He groaned and ripped off his headphones. “Yeah, what?”

“Uh, thanks for the headphones, but they aren’t enough,” Donnacha declared. “I’m enacting Plan B. Retreating to the living room. Do you want to come watch something, seeing as you’re up, too?”

“Donnacha, I’m working, hon.”

“It’s almost one in the morning!” Donnacha chuckled. He tossed the borrowed headphones onto the bed; Henry couldn’t help but glare at the way the cord was wrapped around the top of the headset, and dread the thought of prising it off. “Come on. We can cuddle for warmth.”

“You want to cuddle me for warmth?” While they were roughly of the same height and general build, Donnacha had considerably more padding for combatting the elements than Henry did.

“Offer’s there,” Donnacha shrugged, shivering openly. “I’ll be out here, turning to ice, if you decide to take me up on it.”

Henry sighed. Why not? Lucy was getting some action; a little bit of human contact – even platonic – might ease the sting of jealousy a bit.

Besides, his stomach was bothering him enough that he knew getting back into any kind of flow would be almost impossible. And getting to sleep with Rita Ora lyrics rumbling through the wall didn’t seem very likely, either.

“Fine,” he mumbled, slipping his glasses back on and reaching for his cane. “But not Top Gun.”

“No?” Donnacha exclaimed unceremoniously. “What about Top Gun: Maverick?”

Henry groaned as the effort of standing up not only made his hip protest, but also sent a vice-grip pain through his abdomen.

Donnacha took the noise as one of protest, though. “Hey, I sat through three of your gibbly films –”

“Ghibli,” Henry murmured. What was up with the people in this household refusing to uphold the sanctity of guhs and juhs? How would Donnacha have liked it if Henry had started calling him precious Tom Hanks movie ‘Top Jun’?

“– So, now, you can whisht up and watch something I like.”

“Okay.” Henry didn’t have the capacity to argue, or to make his Top Jun remark. He was barely even sure he had enough energy to get to the living room without needing to stop and curl up in a ball on the floor. His stomach felt like it’d twisted itself up like Donnacha twisted up headphone cords.

He wasn’t getting up any slower than he usually did when his hip flared up, which meant that Donnacha didn’t notice anything was off. Henry was confused at the mild feeling of disappointment this brought on.

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Donnacha decided, turning to make his way towards the kitchen.

___

Henry declined the tea when Donnacha offered to make him some, unsure of how well it would settle in his stomach at this point. The effort of walking from his desk to the living room sofa had shoved the taste of his dinner back up into his mouth again.

He also decided to forgo any further protest regarding Donnacha’s choice of movie; the boy had made a fair (albeit poorly pronounced) point about allowing Henry to choose the movie three times in a row. Plus, maybe Top Gun would finally help Henry understand the appeal that Donnacha saw in piloting.

Three minutes in, Henry knew he’d made the right decision. (Not regarding the movie; it was already as pompous and self-indulgent as he’d predicted it would be.)

But he’d almost... forgotten how nice it was to cuddle, and he wanted to kick himself for not availing of Donnacha’s company more often during the winter months.

Playing rugby and working out meant that his muscles were taut, but his penchant for comfort foods and snacks kept him somewhat soft. His body was in a perfect state of balance. Just like his ability to juggle his career and his hobbies. His city life and his country soul. His athletic side and his intellectual side.

His willingness to watch Studio Ghibli (subbed, not dubbed, as it should be), and his insistence on making Henry sit through Top Gun.

Henry paid as much attention as he could, but it was hard not to let his mind wander in opposite-extreme directions; he was either distracted by the spate of unfinished work that was still waiting for him in his room, or by the fabric-softener scent of Donnacha’s hoodie.

Donnacha was sitting somewhat crookedly with his back against the arm of the couch, with Henry slotted into the space between the cushions and Donnacha’s torso. One arm was locked all the way around Henry’s shoulders, hand resting near Henry’s elbow. Henry had tentatively rested his hand on Donnacha’s stomach at first, but as he curled in closer, he’d reached across and held him by the waist.

With his free arm, Donnacha sipped on his tea, and Henry was almost convinced his stomach was giving off more and more warmth as he drank, even though he knew that was physically impossible.

He had rubbed Donnacha’s stomach once, when it’d been hurting. Looking back, it was definitely one of those times where Henry’s straightforwardness had, perhaps, made the situation more awkward than it needed to be, but Donnacha had seemed to be okay with it.

Would he do the same for Henry now, if he asked?

His closest – scratch that, only – friend growing up had been Lucy, and while they were always there for one another, she had never exactly been the touchy-feely type. They hugged on occasion, but never spontaneously or for an extended amount of time. And as a kid, Henry had had too many experiences of getting something ‘wrong’ – like taking something they weren’t using right out of someone’s hand, or trying to kiss his friends the way his aunts would kiss him on his cheek, or telling someone he loved them… Doing these things meant that he was rude, weird, creepy.

Since last year, it felt like they had started rewriting all of those ‘rules’, just between the two of them.

Henry swallowed and looked up at Donnacha’s clean-shaven jawline. A familiar, yet unpredictable, pang of guilt rippled through his belly. Since he’d been part of the reason for Donnacha ending his previous relationship, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility towards him. He wondered if that was all this was. Duty. Compensation. Here I am, a consolation prize.

“You okay?” Donnacha asked, noticing his gaze as he took a slurp of his tea.

Henry held his breath and considered telling Donnacha about feeling sick to his stomach. His mouth made a decision before his brain could.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Donnacha smiled, “Good!” and turned his attention back to the movie.

Henry shifted a couple of times during the next hour, adjusting the pressure on his stomach. There was less of a pain there now, which was a small relief until he forced himself to watch the TV screen. The rotating planes and whizzing backgrounds became a little much for Henry’s eyes to cope with.

Henry turned his head as far into Donnacha’s chest as he could without knocking his glasses from his face. Maybe – maybe he could just fall asleep? He found himself wondering if Donnacha would try to carry him back to bed if that happened. The image of his own lanky form being scooped into a bridal carry should have made him snort in derision, but it actually made a lump rise in his throat.

A lump, or... something a little more acidic.

Henry’s eyes shot open. His head felt like it was being swallowed up by the stinging, mouth-watering certainty that things were not okay. A knot of pressure sank to the bottom of his stomach and then took a sharp, upward turn – like water trying to flow down a drain and finding itself being forced back to the surface.

“Donnacha.”

“Yep?”

“I’m going to be sick?”

Henry must have sounded extremely surprised and confused himself, because Donnacha didn’t seem to understand what he’d said at first.

“Something… something I ate is not – hmrph.” Henry shot forward and gagged, almost puking straight onto his pyjama bottoms.

“Shite, where’s the bin?” Donnacha stood up and idly glanced around, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Through teeth that suddenly ground together in annoyance, he muttered, “Payton’s always taking it into their room –”

Henry whimpered as his belly cramped, sending a surge of gurgling, bubbling heat towards his throat. The sound seemed to fill in for the urgency missing in his tone, since it was then that Donnacha truly sprang into action.

“Right – here. Aim onto the blanket for now,” he instructed, grabbing the couch throw and tossing it towards Henry’s lap. He chuckled nervously. “That can go in the washing machine more easily than the carpet.”

Henry nodded, though he had no intention of letting himself vomit onto something that was communal property. Other people used this blanket. He was fairly sure Lucy had paid for it, along with the other random assortment of IKEA pieces in the living room.

Donnacha ran off to the kitchen and immediately started clattering around under the sink. By the time he emerged – mere seconds later – Henry’s chin was streaked with drool from fighting the urge to puke on the throw.

“Here you –”

Henry was already gagging while still in the process of taking the bucket into his hands. He belched forcefully, eyes watering as his pathetic dinner splattered all along the inside of the bucket. There were still lumps of meat, strands of spaghetti, none of it digested beyond Henry’s disinterested chewing.

He tried to draw a ragged breath in between retches, and almost choked for having the audacity. This bucket was used on the rare occasion that someone decided to mop the kitchen and bathroom floors, and it reeked like a pile of old, musty towels.

Henry heaved again.

He was certain his eyes rolled back in his head and that he moaned at one point, as his body curled further and further forward on the edge of the sofa. Like a toothpaste tube being squeezed within an inch of its existence.

And then it stopped, as suddenly as it had started. The relief was so intense that it was almost its own form of pleasure. Henry grimaced at the tickle of laughter that crept up through his chest and throat. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been that violently ill before, and he was so, so glad that it seemed to be over.

For now.

“Hen,” Donnacha said in disbelief, as though he had been waiting for Henry to stop puking before scolding him about it. He handed Henry a tissue that he’d apparently been holding in anticipation. “Your poor belly. What’d you eat?”

Henry dabbed his chin clean, hand trembling horribly. His stomach muscles burned as though he’d just attempted a hundred push-ups. “Just some leftovers.”

“Left over from when? The Last Supper?”

Henry groaned in a feeble attempt to show his dislike for the joke.

“Anyway.” Donnacha rubbed a hand over the bumps in Henry’s spine with one hand, and took hold of the bucket with the other. “We can talk about your bad life choices another time. Try to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Um,” said a voice that wasn’t Lucy’s or Payton’s. “Hi?”

Henry glanced up to see Cassidy standing in the hallway and peering in. She was wearing a plaid shirt of Lucy’s which was not long enough for someone of Cassidy’s height to wear as a nightie.

Shit. Lucy.

Guilt sank its teeth into Henry’s nerve endings. He’d been so distracted, and feeling so god-damn sorry for himself, that he’d almost forgotten Lucy was only a few doors down, likely hearing him purge his guts.

He knew what Cassidy was going to say before she even tried.

“Um,” she mumbled again, tugging the shirt down at the front as though she’d suddenly become conscious of its length. “Lucy is very distressed, and she sent me to ask you if someone is… vomiting?”

From the way she scrunched up her nose and eyed the mop bucket, it seemed as though Cassidy already had her answer.

“Food poisoning!” Donnacha sounded like he was shouting out an answer on Family Fortune. “Tell her it’s – it’s food poisoning. Not contagious in the slightest. That’ll make her feel… well, a smidge better about it.”

Cassidy nodded slowly, as though she understood but… didn’t fully understand.

“Donnacha, by the way. My pronouns are he/him.”

“Hi. Cassidy. She/her.” Cassidy shook herself. “Anyway. Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Cassidy,” Henry and Donnacha both droned, Henry mumbling it miserably through a mouthful of watery spit, Donnacha furrowing his brow and returning to rubbing Henry’s back.

“Are ya alright?”

Henry shrugged. He slowly began to sit back. The thought of letting himself sink into the sofa cushions was pure bliss. How food poisoning managed to affect every inch of the human body – not just the digestive tract, as predicted – he would never know.  

“Your poor belly,” Donnacha said again, though his tone wasn’t as interrogative this time. He clicked his tongue sympathetically, and slid a little closer.

He then seemed to realise that Top Gun was still playing on the screen, and he reached for his phone to turn it off.

“Sorry,” he laughed softly.

 Henry’s heart skipped a beat when a warm hand slid across his stomach, rubbing back and forth over his bubbling insides. The gesture was so sudden and so casual that Henry barely registered the shift in Donnacha’s actions. It was as natural as a hug, seemingly.

“’Glad you got some of it up,” Donnacha said. “'Least it’s a little bit emptier in there now.”

Henry nodded weakly, entranced by the warmth that Donnacha’s hand seemed to be injecting directly into his organs as he massaged his stomach. He found himself desperately wondering what was going through Donnacha’s head right now, but unable to find the words to find out.

“So…” Donnacha cleared his throat. “Please don’t tell me you ate that dodgy-looking pasta that was sitting in the fridge earlier? Because I swear to the Lord and back, Henry – if you thought that was okay to eat, you are taking the piss, and you need to go back to the optician’s and demand a refund on those new lenses.”

“I was just being lazy,” Henry murmured. “That’s all. Won’t…” He winced, feeling Donnacha’s hand automatically shift across his stomach in response to a sharp cramp. “Won’t happen again. Believe me.”

Donnacha made a noise in his throat – a hum of concern, perhaps, with a healthy dose of scepticism thrown in. He seemed to hesitate for a second before moving his face closer to Henry’s head and pressing a loud kiss into a clump of his hair.

“Hey, listen,” he whispered, stilling his hand on Henry’s belly.

Henry did, holding his breath.

Donnacha raised his free hand to point. “Since they’re not… playing music anymore,” he said, “I guess it means you and me can get some sleep now.”

While Henry had to admit that sleeping off the stomach cramps in his own bed sounded like heaven, ruining his best friend’s night and causing her to have a mild-to-severe panic response seemed like an unfair cost.

“You’re an awful human,” he muttered.

“What?” Donnacha exclaimed. “They’ve had their fun. Hours of it. It’s bed time now.”

Henry reluctantly nodded. His arm automatically lifted as Donnacha shifted his weight and made to put his arm around Henry’s back and help him up. It was a rare feeling, for him to relinquish control of his limbs, even for just a few seconds until he was on his feet and his cane was within reaching distance.

“I’ll give the bucket a rinse-out in the bath,” Donnacha said as soon as Henry was upright and established.

“Hopefully I won’t need it again.” It was a hollow hope, given the rumbling feeling that pressed against the base of Henry’s ribcage. He took a few measured steps in the direction of his bedroom, conscious of the fact that his posture was more curved than usual.

“If you do, I’ll bring Lucy your noise-cancelling headphones.”

A shudder rippled up Henry’s spine at the thought of Donnacha getting his twisty, wrap-happy hands on his good headphones.

“I know you’re joking,” he huffed, “but please don’t touch those. Ever.”

[rosieartsie]

Happy storyteller Saturday (glad we’re bringing this back)! Your characters go to the county fair! What do they eat? What rides do they go on? Who gets so into petting goats they forget to even look at rides? Who wins a questionable number of clearly rigged games? Who gets their face painted? Who overhauls their entire aesthetic based on booths of scarves and accessories? Who finds something hyperspecific to learn about while the others tap their feet impatiently? Etc.

(that last one is based on me going to the county fair and becoming so engrossed in a local history lecture at the museum exhibit I did not even go check out the rides)

Oooh thank you for including me! <3 Hahah this is a very fun idea. So obvi I should go with the TBOB cast, because that includes the most variation of people lol. I'll tag my husband so they can answer with their half of the cast lol @theskeletonprior As far as eating goes? Femi would try everything; and go in twice for fried goods like funnel cakes and pastries. Setsulin would get absolutely wasted on local meads and beer and craft wine. Argos would not be seen without a turkey leg-- who knows how many they've eaten, they just always have one lol. Tajorinen would also pretty enthusiastically eat, and if there are any foods that seem 'adventurous'? He'll be the first to give them a go, no matter how unusual they seem to anyone else. Setsulin would go on all of the scary rides- if there are roller coasters or rides that drop you from the sky or things that go upside down? She's going on those, and dragging anyone within arm's reach with her. Unfortunately for her, her arch-nemesis/brother in law would be the most enthusiastic about thrill chasing with her. Scythaline would probably accompany Femi on rides that are fun but less thrilling, like spinning tea cups and Ferris wheels. Aquestros would also be a fan of scary rides, and in the spirit of halloween if there was anything akin to a haunted house, scary tent or corn maze? They'd be all about that life. Argos would want to experience everything but at the sight of little goats, or horses, or pigs, or any creature they can pet they would be very, very excited and spend some time among them. They'd also be the sort to get into the historic elements of the county fair. Femi would be interested in the history too, and would likely have many questions about how things are documented; she would find that sort of thing fascinating, especially when much of her culture is an oral tradition. Kalmin would definitely get his face painted- just unabashedly has a monarch butterfly mask all day long. Argos would likely be into the face painting too, though it'd have to be on their brow and high on their cheek bones because of their scales. Aquestros would win many games, very much cheating some how at all of them, and would give all of their prizes to Femi. Scythaline would play the games and suspiciously win many of them simply based on skill lol-- he may be a himbo but he's too well trained to be tricked by a rigged shooting or hoop game.

Femi would definitely be shopping, anywhere she can shop she does, so she'd be going home with new earrings and shawls and a dress or two. Setsulin might peruse, but she can be particular- there'd have to be something pretty outstanding for sale for her to buy. Kalmin would absolutely play the game where you end up winning a gold fish or a turtle, and he would play until he won at least two of them. Dreigas would find much of this utterly insufferable, but if he found something he liked, whether it be a ride, an exhibit, or even a particular little goat or mini horse, it would take some serious effort to pry him from it. He does not dance, he does not like loud sounds, he hates most people, so this is his idea of a nightmare, but he's been forced to come along by me, his creator lmao, so I could see him finding a particularly quiet and demure little lamb that he just puts on his lap in the corner of the animal pin and no one can get him to move or release it lmao

[alavenderleaf]

Tagged by @gilliebee <3

Name: Lavender and Leaf interchangeably

Pronouns: he/him and she/her interchangeably (but genuinely okay with whatever, I’m genderfluid c: )

Where do u call home? Dubai, UAE. Even tho it was meant to be a temporary arrangement I’ve lived here my whole life and now any other emirate feels off lol

Favorite animals: goats. You ever jumped around with a baby goat??? Peace and love on planet earth 🥺💕💞💝💘💖💗💓💓💘💝💞💕

When it comes to birds: chickens and pigeons. Everytime I see one I’m like that’s so me. I’m them. They’re me. We are one.

Cereal of choice: anything with chocolate bc I’m still 5 years old

are you visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner? visual for sure, my ears don’t work right and I freaking love diagrams.

First pet: I’ve never named a pet except my current cat (xiexie!!) so my first pet did not have a name. It was a smol baby chick that grew up to be a mean ass spoiled ass fucking rooster who’d peck everyone except me <3

he was raised as a girl bc whoever gave me the chick told me it’s a chicken not a rooster and my dumbass did not recognize the signs of him being male and would argue with everyone who tried convincing me otherwise 🤠 denial is one hell of a drug bc how could I see the tail and mohawk (?? Tf u call that thing on its head) and be like “yes this is a chicken :) I see nothing wrong about this” anyway trans king. He’s just like mommy <3

I did have to give him away eventually :( he was taken to some uncle’s farm and got a chicken harem like the high value alpha male I knew he always had the capacity to be 😌 (ofc until another rooster was brought over and he lost the fight. He was plucked naked and shunned and he passed away featherless and bitchless. But we don’t talk about that)

Favorite scent: ………… lavend-*gun shots*

do you believe in astrology? Not really? But it’s so much fun !! :) I am a Capricorn sun Taurus moon and Leo rising, so do with that as you will <3

how many playlists do you have in apple music/spotify? I don’t use Apple Music. Spotify is purely for my friends so we can send playlists back and forth but I hate that everything is paywalled and it decides to choose shit for me. Like bitch. I did not add any of these songs to the playlist get tf away from me. Also why can’t I listen to my music offline???? I hate u. Anyway I just checked I have 87 playlists ???? 🤠🤠 When. How. Who are all these people I literally don’t know any of them?????

Sharpies or highlighters? Sharpies!!!! I love markers in general but sharpies always fire up my creative neurons

song that makes you cry: I’ve never cried to music but Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens makes me so. :(

song that makes you happy: not to be a stereotype but Bastans by Miami band. (It’s a staple wedding song lmao)

and finally: do you draw/write/create?: YES!! My artistic skills are. Fine. But I do write a lot! My ao3 is lavender_petal and I’ve been learning how to create gifs over on my hockey side acc @gaybroons Also! I started making little braided bracelets lately :) they’re not perfect but they are fun!! I do try my hand at some Arabic/English translations from time to time but I’m not the best at it lol

I’m tagging: @loulucifer , @lindholmline , @earth-to-sway , and anyone else who wants to do this, but no pressure <3

[thebleedingeffect]

Alrighty this is a lil snippet of a Wild and Twilight scene that I worked on for a day or two! Some context for this scene, this is pretty soon after they escape Cia and make the deal with totk Ganondorf for him to remove Cia's seal off them and to teleport them somewhere random. Just a short lil scene of some Twilight and Wild bonding + Twilight freaking out a bit over being corrupted with Gloom.

also!! @trangender-herooftime this is the very beginning of the corrupted/gloom Link saga that I mentioned a couple days ago! like always, I'm always okay if you don't wanna be tagged :]] I just wanted to cause I know you said you were interested lmao.

Now for some gloom infected Wild and Twilight >:3 a bit of angst and foreboding stuff with an actual sweet scene.

-

Twilight didn’t notice the mark at first.

It was a small thing, hidden underneath the thick layers of fear, grim, and blood that had steadily coated his skin until the color of his skin was no different than the dirt underneath his feet. The small, blackened patch throbbed, like a painful bruise that pulsed in time with his heartbeat and burned at the slightest touch, the skin around nearly consumed in a reddened fever that had Twilight’s face twisting in a grimace. At first the distant throb of pain was hardly anything important, with his entire body being consumed in pain and fear, the distant ache that began to pierce through his shoulder was hardly worth registering.

Blood coated his knees, his own and everyone else’s, a mixture of such a deep, consuming red that Twilight wasn’t confident he could pinpoint where the pain ended and he began. The ache was so inconsequential, so quiet amongst the cacophony of gashes and splitting skin, that it had simply faded from Twilight’s mind as quietly and as suddenly as it appeared. Now, Twilight couldn’t help the pained exhale as he stared down at the muddied pool of water at his own battered reflection.

Blackened water dripped down into the water, the thickened layers of grim being scrapped off with each rough scratch of nails digging at the skin underneath. Twilight could only dredge up the distant feeling of disgust at the feeling of his own dried blood gathering beneath his nails, only passing a grim glance at the sight before dipping his hands back into the water. The surrounding forest was quiet, peaceful even, a sight so familiar that Twilight could only attempt to ignore the pain scratching up from his throat.

The treeline faded back as Twilight caught the sight of the strange mark once again. It was dark, pitch black even, a stark contrast to the pale skin that cowered beneath the light of the day. Thin lines of red pulsed in time with the dim fever, a bright crimson that festered and bled into the rest of his skin until it sang along with the thrum of pain that enveloped every part of his body. 

Now, underneath Twilight’s worried stare, the blackened patch seemed to squirm restlessly, unable to simply hide how it had burrowed itself into Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight couldn’t help the immediate thought that it looked sick, rotted even, the kind of festering wound that would occasionally appear on the unlucky farm animal in Ordon. Most animals didn’t survive sickness, the rot would simply engulf them until its roots were far too ensnared within the very flesh that it was more of a mercy for it to die. The thought brings with it a distant kind of memory, one when he was far too small and young to be anywhere close to the scent of death.

Twilight remembers the smell of rot that had enveloped the barn, the soft mummers of comfort that fell on deaf ears to the goat that was struggling in a pool of its own misery and blood. Looking back, it was one of his first encounters with death, and through the thin opening of the barn’s door he had watched as the doctor gave a defeated sigh as she had leaned back from the goat. The sight of blackened blood had burned itself into Twilight then, the futile noises of an animal grasping for life despite death practically reeking from every one of its orifices.

Later, Twilight had learned that the goat had been battling a severe sickness, an infection, one that had started from a messy pregnancy as the mother had simply been unable to pass all of its babies. The infection was simply too far deep into the mother’s flesh, too late to help, too much pain for any one animal to bear. 

 Twilight had never seen that goat again, after he was caught by Rusl and was taken back home with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a kind expression as he told Twilight of death. It was a natural thing, Twilight had learned how death could be cruel and kind in equal turns, it was something that he had long made peace with the first time that he had taken up a sword. 

But there was something different about sickness, the kind of rot that he had seen consume that goat that day until it could only scream out in pain that had no salvation or saving grace. The scent of rot clogged Twilight’s nose, the smell more and more putrid the longer that he stared at the growing black mass that looked back at him through his reflection. Twilight realized with a jolt of horror that he wasn’t quite sure when it had appeared, but his gut twisted and dropped with a dawning dread that had him swallowing down nausea. 

The rustling of grass snapped Twilight’s eyes from his reflection, teeth grinding in poorly-hidden fear as Wild gently stopped a handful of paces away. Shock stilled Wild for a moment, before a quiet horror took its place at the black dripping into the water. Not a single word was spoken, not as Twilight felt the adrenaline fall away and neither when Wild’s eyes twisted in understanding. Seconds sluggishly moved passed, each moment painfully slow as Twilight dimly watched Wild approach, the dirtied riverbank crunching beneath his feet.

No word was spoken, the quiet mercifully untouched as the gentle wind that swept along the river’s water brought the taste of salt along with it. It wasn’t enough to cleanse him from the rot that still sat stubbornly on his tongue, but he could still manage the slightest twinge of his lips at the cool breeze.

“I… I didn’t realize, I never wanted-”

“It’s okay, Wild. It’s… I’m not surprised.” Twilight feels more than sees how Wild stiffens beside him, the pain practically radiating from Wild’s side as he glares back down into the water with despairing gleam in his eyes. The stilted silence pervades the tranquility of the water before the both of them, the seconds making the dread in Twilight’s stomach all the more heavier until the sight of charred skin catches his eye.

Red veins pulse sluggishly from the very center of the mass and Twilight pushes down the sick feeling, the urge to throw up growing stronger by the second until Wild shuffles again.

“...Does it hurt?” The smile that appears on Twilight’s face is a genuine one, the edges of it curling with warmth as Twilight meets Wild’s own nervous eyes with his own. The burn of Wild’s troubled, frantic glances at his exposed shoulder only made Twilight’s smile soften further, giving a slight chuckle before leaning back from the water.

“No, it’s just… warm.” Truthfully, Twilight could admit to himself that it felt like something was alive under his skin, just barely scratching against his bones with dull claws that spoke of malice, hatred even. Not sharp enough to hurt, not yet anyway, but just enough that Twilight swore he could feel another heartbeat along his own. 

“I promise you, Wild. I’m okay, if anything I should be the one asking you that.” A good-natured smirk tugged up on Twilight’s lips, pulling himself completely from the water’s edge and shifting closer to Wild’s side. Twilight’s smile dimmed as Wild pulled his own blackened arm closer, guilt clouding his already dark expression 

“...You weren’t supposed to be hurt, none of you were, that wasn’t part of the deal at all-” Wild dug his fingernails into the pitch black flesh of his new arm, veins of gloom pulsing angrily against the dull green glow until reddened smoke weaved themselves inbetween Wild’s fingers. Twilight had hardly registered the thought before he was gently wedging his hand into Wild’s own, white-knuckled and gloom-infested as it was, but Twilight hardly cared.

“Would you rather have dealt with Ganondorf all alone?” Twilight kept his voice quiet, tightening his hand into Wild’s own as a shaky, watery exhale was Wild’s only response.

“I should’ve, I should’ve just demanded something else- gone alone- just anything else but this.”

“...Let me tell you something about my own Ganondorf, Wild.” Twilight hardly breathed as Wild fell into his shoulder, shuddering breaths wracking his body with violent jolts that had Twilight pulling him just the slightest bit closer. 

“Midna, a friend of mine, was the first one who told me about Ganondorf. He was a cunning man, intelligent, a commander, the truest example of the Gerudo King in every sense of the word. But… I didn’t want to believe her, not at first.” Twilight pushed down the bittersweet longing that tinged his words, ignoring the curious glance that Wild gave before forcing himself to continue.

“I was told that I was the hero, I had no idea what that meant at the time but I knew that people needed help and I was the only one there to fill that role. There might’ve been a princess waiting for me, but before that? I was just trying to save whoever I could.” 

“The idea of him was terrifying, but I never admitted that to my Zelda, or Midna. Never before and never afterwards, I just couldn’t say out loud that I was scared, wasn’t sure if I could risk being so when there was already so much at stake.” The memories felt distant and yet so extremely fresh, if Twilight focused he could swear that he could still feel Midna’s gaze burning into him, an uncharacteristic grave expression drawn onto her face. Midna had burned with a hatred that he hadn’t quite understood, a loathing that she hardly ever had the strength to explain.

It was a hatred that he had only seen matched during the very height of Zant’s madness, an endless muttering prayer for an angry ‘god’ that had taken depraved pity on him.

Twilight understood then, without even muttering a word to Midna as she mercilessly crushed Zant against her rightful throne.

 “Until before I knew it, there was no more time to wonder about what kind of man could become a god, because I was meeting that same man.” Twilight still remembered the flash of recognition that had burned through him at the sight of Ganondorf sitting upon Hyrule’s throne, the very image of a scorned king. Nothing was said, yet he had known with a frightening certainty that it was him, just as Ganondorf smirked back at him with a knowing look.

Perhaps destiny had always demanded that they would meet, would always fall back into each other’s orbit, just like how Ganondorf’s shadow would always inevitably fall back over him.

Maybe Ganondorf was just waiting to make his mark. 

Twilight pointedly did not look down at his shoulder at that thought.

“But the one thing that I couldn’t doubt, the one thing that I knew, was that Ganondorf wasn’t a fair man. He had cheated, manipulated, and taken advantage of every single scrap of power that he could get his hands on, all the way up until he reached that throne.”

“Ganondorf… your Ganondorf, I don’t think he was any different. That’s why I don’t blame you, because I would’ve hated myself even more if you were forced to go through it alone.”

The silence after Twilight’s admission was palpable, an incredibly heavy weight that pushed down on his shoulders, but he couldn’t say that he felt guilty or embarrassed at all at his words. Simply, it was the truth, Twilight would’ve rather share the gloom steadily corrupting him to his very bones rather than watch uselessly as Wild crumbled away. What use is a hero that could sit uselessly, without a purpose? Only able to stand quietly aside as the scarily few pieces of his family scattered away?

Family? Was that what Wild was now? Twilight dared to meet Wild’s eyes as the thought lingered in the forefront of Twilight’s mind, the simple word so scarily simple yet terrifying. Wild stared back, eyes pinched in contemplation and pain as the grip around Twilight’s hand tightened minutely, the subtle shake in his palms stilling slightly underneath Twilight’s own comforting squeeze. Moments passed like that, until Wild sharply pulled Twilight to his side and buried his face into the still dirtied skin covering his neck.

Twilight smiled softly, entwining his arms around Wild’s torso and pulling him even closer with a fervor that caused his smile to shake subtly where it was hidden in the grimy mess of Wild’s hair. 

“...I wanted to do it alone, that was what I had planned.”

“I know.”

“It was only supposed to be me.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Twilight felt Wild melt further into the hug, his shoulder growing suspiciously warm as Wild fell silent once again until the soft breeze running atop the river’s water drowned out the sound. The forest's edge danced with the slight wind, shuffling until Twilight could taste the sense of home beneath all of the fear and torment that had clung to them all like a second skin. Twilight could only admit the truth to himself then, accept it without a single doubt, that Wild was part of his family now.

Perhaps they all were, every single one of them managing to slip between every single one of their cracks and sharpened edges that Twilight wasn’t sure where he began and they started. Wild’s heartbeat slowed against his own chest, subtly matching the tempo of his own heart as Twilight breathed in the scent of Wild still clinging to his arms. 

What didn’t they all share? Surely part of the same soul and fate, pieces of each other ripped apart and remade over and over as the goddesses had demanded every time. But, Twilight had felt each of their blood on his skin, had seen their subtle, scared smiles, heard the first bubbling of laughter that left their lips in the middle of hell. 

Twilight had to admit it to himself, maybe he had let them close without even realizing, perhaps he never had a choice in the matter. The urge to let go never once burned along his skin, and the realization slowly dawning over Twilight just made him hold onto Wild all the more tighter.

He didn’t want to let go.

He didn’t want to let go of Wild, he didn’t want to let go of any of them. 

The blackened pulse of gloom was still embedded itself into his shoulder, but Twilight couldn’t muster the same fear that had scratched at his nerves mercilessly only minutes before. Twilight felt his limbs slowly come back to themselves, the sun straining across the horizon casting a soft, golden glow over the two of them and the dissipating grim disappearing before Twilight’s eyes with every subtle wave of the river’s current. The world breathed around them as Wild sniffled softly into his neck, pulling back painfully slow until Twilight was welcomed by his slightly reddened eyes.

Twilight could only smile, the very sight of it bringing a watery smile to Wild’s own face that immediately made him laugh into the blissful quiet. The forest ruffled with the sound, the bubbling laughter reverberating softly until collapsing back to soft chuckles, the sound bringing an indulgent smile to Twilight’s face before he stood up. Twilight hardly had to think to extend his hand towards Wild, the action causing Wild to lapse back into silence as he stared at the hand.

Twilight waited, and waited even more, until the hesitant embrace of Wild’s scarred hand joined his own and Twilight effortlessly pulled him to his side.

“C’mon, I’m sure the others are starting to get worried, and it won’t be long until it’s dark. Are you ready to go?” Wild’s answering nod was all the answer that Twilight needed, starting the short trek back to the haphazard camp that awaited them.

“...Are you… are you going to show them?” Twilight felt more than saw how Wild glanced onto his still exposed shoulder, the tattered remains of his sleeve left abandoned somewhere within the riverbed.

“...Yes, we’re all fighting by each other’s side, have been all this time, what’s one more bump on the road?” A comforting smile contrasted against Wild’s own worried one, the expression sputtering out as Twilight knocked into Wild, laughter bubbling back up from his chest as Wild gave an irritated look before straightening with a huff. 

“Are you sure?” Twilight more than heard the hidden fear in Wild’s voice as he curled into himself at the indecision of the question, guilt once again curling in his eyes before Twilight gave an agreeable noise. 

“I’m sure, I promise that it’ll all be fine.” Twilight felt the truth entertain his words, along with a thousand different meanings and promises intertwined with it. “Even if it isn’t, just stay by my side. That’s all I ask of you.” Images of an empty desert and an endless void of grief stretched along the expanse of Twilight’s mind as he blinked, the words dripping with it a painful kind of sincerity and desperation that rang painfully loudly in his ears. 

The guilt fell from Wild’s eyes, instead being replaced with a kind of thoughtful contemplation at Twilight’s words as he fell silent. Ghosts haunted all of them, some more bittersweet than others, and Twilight knew with a bone-deep, terrifying certainty that Wild reflected the kind of understanding that scarily few knew, or felt. The kind of understanding that came from being ripped open and the world placed on your shoulders, only able to watch as everything you loved slipped away from you.

But you couldn’t flinch, or share the pain, as the hero never shoulders the responsibility with someone else, never voices their despair as they’re crushed alive.

Midna teased the edges of Twilight’s memory for a bittersweet moment, the faint image bringing with it an old ache of pain that was only softened as Wild gave a small, hesitant smile of his own after a moment. 

“Not going to ask for anything more? That’s it?” Wild’s smile took on a mischievous edge, the misery from earlier dissipating with every step until Wild kept up in time by Twilight’s side with a smirk that had Twilight giving a self-indulgent eye roll.

“I have to juggle you, Warriors, Time, and Sky. Trust me, I’m having to deal with more than plenty already, like Sky isn’t the absolute worst by himself-” The giggling of laughter is expected, but Twilight can’t help the wide smile that stretches over his face, drinking in the sound until it brings with a warmth that hums along with the skip of his steps. 

“Just stay, even as much of a menace as you are.”

“Really, that’s all?”

“That’s all I could ever ask of you, Wild.” 

[felixantares]

Thank you for the tag @allalrightagain 💚

Hardcover or Paperback? I'm just taking LT's answer but yes, ebook! I can use dark mode, write as many notes as I want, and something about reading on the small screen tricks my ADHD brain into thinking I'm not actually reading a whole book. To answer the actual question, paperback.

Bookstore or Library? Libraries! So many free books, and the librarians can find you pretty much anything you want! Also if I said bookstore my librarian mother would materialize behind me and end my entire existence (but my answer would be the same regardless).

Bookmark or Receipt? I mean receipt or scrap paper if I have it, but I'll be real i'm a terrible awful person who has very few issues dog-earing a page.

Standalone or Series? Typically standalone, but if a series is really good then it can win me over. All my favourites are series (Percy Jackson, Harry Potter) but I've also read so many series where I feel like the story and themes gets lost or muddled over too many books. I've had more consistent success finding well defined stories with standalones.

Nonfiction or Fiction? Oh easy, fiction. I read to escape reality, why on earth would I want to read about reality?? I mean I do like research but only with a goal in mind. Non-fiction just for the fun of it? No thanks.

Thriller or Fantasy? Fantasy, all day every day. It's the D&D obsession shining through, I think.

Under 300 Pages or Over? Over!!! I set my ao3 search functions to sort by word count and if it's under 100k I gently place it in my marked for later list for when I want a 'light easy read' 😂 I'm way more likely to be interested if you tell me a book/fic is over 250k (or however many pages that is equivalent to).

Children’s or YA? I like a few kids books for the nostalgia, but I mostly read YA.

Friends to Lovers or Enemies to Lovers? I'm giving up and just quoting LT here because I agree 100% and couldn't say it better: "Friends. Enemies can be fun too, but I love the layers when you get into friends to lovers. Enemies to friends to lovers or friends to enemies to lovers or other permutations of Messy can be even better."

Read in Bed or Read on the Couch? I mostly read on my bed because my roommate tends to keep youtube videos running on the TV while he does various crafts around the house (right now he's painting a mirror frame with really pretty flowers!) but if we're just chilling listening to music then I like the couch better. We've got about 30 plants in our living room and we can open the balcony door when it rains and it's lovely.

Read at Night or Read in the Morning? I mean, the morning is definitely safer. If I start reading at night I'll never put the book down and I won't sleep, but if I start in the morning things won't get done. It's lose-lose.

Keep Pristine or Markup? Markup. This is why I have digital books, so I can write essays in the notes section. I once had to tape a piece of paper inside my book because there wasn't enough room in the margins for my notes.

Cracked Spine or Dogear? (this part is mostly for LT but I have a copy of OotP where the spine is also cracked so bad you can't read it!! samsies!) But uhhhh both? I do try to take care of my books, but I don't have many and the ones I do have are my favourites that have survived the various purges of many moves, so they're all very beat up with cracked spines and dogears and notations everywhere 😂 I call it a sign of a well-loved book. I'm pretty sure my copy of HBP lost its cover at some point and I hot glued it back on.

Tagging: @girl-with-goats @luxuriousmalfoy @gloivy @venom0usbarbie

[arcxnumvitae]

Rules, tag 10 followers  you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @fatestouch​​​

Tagging: Anyone, just say I tagged you

Name: Kris. Funnily, also Nashville Kim and Kimmy stemming from an inside joke about a very weird spam text I got once

Star Sign: Gemini (sun), Scorpio (moon), Aquarius (rising)

Height: 5'8

Middle name: Andrea

Put your itunes/spotify/youtube on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?

Satisfied by Reneé Goldsberry

ALREADY by Beyoncé 

Gansta’s Paradise by uhhh Mad Trigger Crew (look Kirei, I’m still listening to it)

BREAK MY SOUL by Beyoncé 

蕚 by Fling Posse (I want you to know I have Spotify up on my phone and I’m typing this on my computer, so when that kanji popped up on my phone I stared helplessly at it before looking for somewhere online I could copy and paste it from)

All the Stars by Kendrick Lamar and SZA

Ever had a poem or song written about you: Nope

When was the last time you played air guitar: Not for a long while I’m sure

Who is your celebrity crush?: I think Zendaya is pretty! I enjoyed watching Regé-Jean Page in the new D&D movie

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: Oh my gosh yeah Styrofoam rubbing together kills me! Any type of plasticky squeak along those lines, or like my nails scraping against it is ughhhhh 

Do you believe in ghosts?:Nah

How about aliens: Probably. Like, statistically speaking, man, it only makes sense

Do you drive?: Yep! Can’t really get around anywhere I’ve lived without a car

if so have you ever crashed: Two people have bumped into me before when I wasn’t moving but it wasn’t anything serious. I just messed up my “no incidents ever” streak by kinda scraping against a girl’s car when I was trying to park. The girl can’t park (she wasn’t parked too egregiously that day, but still closer than she should have been and the way she’s parked on other days...woof).

What was the last book you read?: A Venom Dark and Sweet! I’m still trying to finish it but I’ve accepted none of my tbr list is getting touched this summer, unfortunately

Do you like the smell of gasoline: Nope

What was the last movie you saw?: Mmmmmm... Lilo & Stitch I think

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: Despite my moderate clumsiness, I’ve never had a particularly bad injury! A burn from an oven once on my arm and once when  my mom got my ear with a hot comb when I was little 🥴 But those were just moderate injuries to me.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: Ohhh yeahhh baby, right now, mentally, I’m in Hyrule. Barely missing chasm edges and diving straight into the ground, screaming in terror every time I hear the screech of those stupid scary hands and see the sky turn red, wondering aloud why they made the goat/rabbit man hot and if the developers knew what they were unleashing, etc.

Also my graduation photos, I really like how most of them turned out and I think I’d done my makeup pretty well those days, considering I almost never wear it haha.

[binickandros]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @staceymcgillicuddy. Thanks!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42! I have more on ff.net.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,612,657. She a chatty bjtxh.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

rn just Stranger Things, but in the past I've written for Criminal Minds (that's sort of...ongoing, I guess), L&O:SVU, The X-Files, Sailor Moon, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Sons of Anarchy, The Stand, and Homicide: Life on the Street. Also there's my roosthoard crackfic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sharp as Nails, Soft as Honey (hellcheer)

You've Earned It (Barba/Carisi from SVU)

Longing (Juice/Chibs from SoA)

Come With Me Tonight (Juice/OC, SoA)

The Space Between (hellcheer)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Sometimes I forget and then I feel awkward replying like ages later. I never replied to a bunch on Space Between and feel bad about it. :/ So now I try to respond right away bc I want ppl to know how much I appreciate their support.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of my fics end angstily. They might have angsty events, but everything always resolves happily. I write fic to fix shit, not to make it worse!!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ummmmm...lol! Probably the sort-of crackish sequel to Come WIth Me Tonight, Under My Skin. Juice, Chibs, and my OC move to a Greek island and raise goats and bees and have sex all the time. What could be better??

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not lately, but Come With Me did get some bullshit, mostly bc the SoA fandom didn't like the idea of a more submissive Juice Ortiz (dumb, frankly), and they just in general like to hate on OCs.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yup. Didn't start until my spn fic, Half of Something Else, but since then yeah. Most of them have had smut. Sometimes it's more vanilla, but I usually do prefer to play with power dynamics. Some have outright D/s stuff goin on, but I usually don't get that "formal" with it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've got the crack-ish roosthoard fic, which I plan on turning into a series, and once I tried to write an X-Files/CriMi but couldn't really get anywhere with it. So usually no, I don't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know. I'm not popular enough, which is fine w me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I was about to say no, but then I remembered back in the day someone translated my Sailor Moon fics. So yes!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of? Like, not officially, but nearly everything I write these days is at least partially co-written with @tonybourdain

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh gosh. Ummmm...okay, either Jon/Aryn from Farscape or Jaime/Claire from Outlander.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh geez. I want to finish my Stand fic SO badly, but idk if it's gonna happen. Also my SoA fic Get You In. I know what I want to happen, but writing it is the hard part. :/ But the one I know I'll probably never finish is Collide, my SVU fic. Like the other two could get finished some day, but that one? Prob not.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, esp banter. I think I'm pretty funny. Also giving my sentences and paragraph a certain rhythm. I have a good ear.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I get stuck in ruts. Like repeating myself a lot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done bits and pieces of other languages in my fic, but if I needed anything more complex or longer, I'd get someone who spoke whatever language to help me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Homicide: Life on the Street, I think. Then very shortly after that, The X-Files. Or maybe vice versa I don't remember.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I really really love my spn fic Half of Something Else. There's this whole bit that takes place near a swamp that I just adore. But also my SoA magnum opus, Come With Me Tonight. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that baby.

Right now I'm really enjoying my current hellcheer WiP, With Teeth. I think it's gonna be good.

I'm gonna tag @anniecrestaodairs, @prosopopeya, and @lightsaroundyourvanity

[chimerahazard]

zeph 𖦹 he/it/any 𖦹 22 𖦹 PLUR

heres my basic intro post that I edit from time to time

hi!!! you can call me Zephyr, Zeph, or Xeno. I really like splatoon, web graphics + old web (basically anything pre-2013 honestly), biology, invertibrates, stuffed animals, rave culture, kink subculture + more. im a proud autist, boydyke girlman, and snail enthusiast.

BYF: im a furry + otherkin (goat/sheep, cat, bug + more) and often refer to myself as a chimera :3 being fictionkin/otherkin is so fun without a bitch in your ear telling u youre cringe. this blog has (both sfw and nsfw) kink content and empty spaces writing. You are not immune to littlespace/middlespace posting and if you find that weird or gross you're in the wrong place.

DNI if under 18, anti-kink, proana. cp/zoos and terfs will be reported and dropped into the tiger pit.

I won't follow if you don't tag incest/fauxcest/rape please and thank you.

I block content that disturbs/triggers me, 99% of the time its nothing personal.

Tags:

zeph txt ⇾ original text posts

journal ⇾ will probably overlap w zeph txt, basically any time i make any kind of update/post about my life. will likely decorate entries with lots of blinkies

ae ⇾ aesthetics!! i love images and pictures and gifs.

my art ⇾ I have a sideblog for art @xenofly ! my old art acct was @xenoflyarts but ive stop using the acct that its attached to. I'm also considering posting photography and poetry as well. basically whatever art I do end up posting will be tagged as such

that's all for now. thanks for stopping by!