#cause of horrors: (near) egg death

[dayssincethehorrors]

days since q!cellbit has experienced the horrors: 0

time since last reset: 46 days

[fanfic-obsessed]

Historical choices

This idea starts on Kamino. Well before the time of the prequels. 

As with all my ideas, ignore any part of canon that contradicts it. 

Tipoca City became the capital of Kamino after the flood. It was never meant to be the Capital city. In fact it was not built to be a city at all. Tipoca was built as a remote research station, long before the flood. It was the first genetic research station for the Kaminoans.  

The very first project…how to prevent Force Sensitivity in their own people. For many reasons, all based on superstition and bigotry, the Kaminoan government decided that having Force sensitivity was undesirable and wanted it stopped.  The initial project, lost to the tides of time, took all the Force Sensitives they could get their hands on (though there were many adults captured, unfortunately Force Sensitive children and babies were easier to source) and began to experiment, with all the horror that that entails. 

By the time the scientists had a ‘breakthrough’ many decades later, everything that subjects endured had sunk into the location, darkening the Force as only that kind of pain and horror can. 

The scientists called it a breakthrough, removing Force Sensitivity from the Kaminoan genetic code and generations later the project had been forgotten, and it is assumed that Kaminoans simply were not Force sensitive. This is not quite true. What those initial scientists did was make Force Sensitivity above a specific threshold, well below the level to actually be considered Force Sensitive, toxic to Kaminoans. 

The funny thing is that after the genetic treatments to ‘remove’ force sensitivity, miscarriages among the Kaminoan population (which at that point was still reproducing, not cloning) shot through the roof, often including the death of the mother/carrier (I have no idea what the Kaminoans called the egg producer). At the same time the Force is not simply in sentients, it is also a vital part of the lifeblood of the planet.  There is a careful balance that the Force maintains which was utterly fucked by the mass death, and continued death, of any Force Sensitive Kaminoan.  While the connection is never made, these imbalances are the cause for the global warming that eventually floods the planet, also the violent frequent storms.  It is this and the birth rate issue that caused the Kaminoans to start cloning and genetic experiments to survive (All the while they kept including the genetic code that turned Force Sensitivity toxic). 

Even as their reputation as cloners grew, they never cloned sentients other than themselves (And there were no Force sensitive Kaminoans now). So they never realized that The Force on Kamino (in particular Tipoca City, but across the planet) had grown dark, violent, and feral. It is noted that animals cloned on Tipoca city tend to be more aggressive than normal, but that is not really noticeable given the contracts they were getting.

Not until the cloning of Jango Fett begins.  The Clones are near human and, though Jango Fett is not particularly Force sensitive, they are the first sentients since the treatment was completed for whom being touched by the Force was not lethal (since the Kaminoans no longer remember that the particular piece of genetic code was artificial, then never think to add it to the Fett clones).  The Force on Kamino curls around the clones, it loves them with desperation and the long lasting memory of the last time its children walked the surface. The Force ensures that every Fett clone is Force sensitive. 

To the trainers and Jango Fett there are a number of spots on Tipoca City that feel…deeply haunted. The more superstitious refuse to enter some of the oldest parts of the city, including where the growth tubes are located (no one is left alive to know but the growth tubes are placed in the oldest labs, where the subjects of the first scientist endured horrors beyond imagining).  

To be clear, the Force on Kamino is of the dark side. It is corrupted.  It is suffering and horror and despair leaching like poison into groundwater. It is a beaten, hurting animal biting anyone who comes close to prevent being hurt again. It is a feral thing that can not distinguish between friend and foe. And the Clones belong to it. 

This comes to a head when the majority of the CC batches are six.  One of the trainers spits out that the Jedi would also think the clones were just useless meat droids. And the Force on Kamino may have been a feral thing, a thing of suffering,  but it was also connected to the rest of the Force and it knew that the Jedi would love its children. 

It whispered this to the children, curling around them. One of the children, who would one day be Fox, glared up at the trainer and spat out that the trainer was lying.  The trainer, reacting more to the tone than the words, struck CC-1010. 

The Force on Kamino reacted. It had suffered the trainers to live because they were making it’s children strong. There had been no decommissioning or reconditionings because the Force was working to ensure its children performed exactly as they should.  But now the trainer had hurt one of its children, and not for training, but for speaking.  The barely leashed violence broke free and roared through the clones. The clones, empowered and driven by the Dark, this vicious protective energy built of the suffering from long before, took the city. It did not matter that the oldest of them were barely physically 8. Within 4 hours there were not any trainers left in Tipoca City (Jango Fett had been off planet on a bounty). Within 6 hours there were no Kaminoans either.  Within three days the Clones were the sole living sentients on Kamino.

Jango Fett came back three weeks after that to a very changed landscape. He is allowed to land because Boba (the toddler that he still is) does consider him a father.  The children, and they are all still children, have not eaten anything solid in two weeks (The Force is sustaining them, also the Force does not know what are good child rearing practices for near humans-it has existed long enough that it can’t even really tell the difference between child and adult in near humans).  The clones are now clearly something OTHER and very unsettling besides, but they all call him dad and he gets the creeping sensation that Jango was not allowed to deny them (Very much ‘oh no these ARE your children (threat)’).  The Force start playing with Clone ages (trying to figure out the best age for each clone to be for ‘their’ Jedi, the Kamino Force is invested in the Clones getting whatever they want and knows some Jedi will love the Clones dearly). 

Jango makes it another 6 months before he ‘sneaks’ away to make a panicked call to the Jedi Temple (He knows he screwed up), trying to make it their problem instead of his. Prior to this he made several attempts to call Dooku but none went through. He is chased down and told that The Force (called Buir/Protector by the Clones) allowed him this far because it knew that he would call the Jedi, but that it is time to return home now. 

There was a wandering Jedi, Master Faye, closer so she came to Kamino and was immediately given the feeling that she would care for the clones or else.  The Force on Kamino is still a wild, feral thing and the Clones are that much more aggressive for their connection to it. However the innocence of the clone children, now that they are not being trained for war any longer, has also been bringing balance back to the Force on Kamino. As they behave as children do, they have begun to drain away the leftover suffering, bringing light back to the Force. 

Some of the storms have even begun to ebb. 

It is still a bit of a horror show that Jedi now have to deal with, also children (who may be more than a little eldritch) who committed at least one Genocide. But there is hope.

[kingtrash-fox]

I am writing this because of HATE.

Hate for this DENTURE LOOKING BASTARD.

Am I overreacting over the death of an Alligator NPC gone sentient? Maybe. Is it justifiable? Probably. Am I still gonna write this? YES

So you know that one YT video called 30 Ways to kill Yoshi? I’m making a list of ideas for yall to torment Y’all’s Caine Plushie for Gummigoos death and Pomnis need for therapy. Also Jax might be satisfied with the bloodlust I’m displaying and I hope yall will maybe commit? Not a guarantee or a demand but hey here’s hoping.

Play Baseball with him.

Throw him in a river with his limbs all tied up

BLIND HIM With Various flashlights

Give him cavities (Just smear some sweets on him. Bonus points if it’s gummy Alligators.)

take a picture. Upload that pic on your computer. And digitally tear it apart. Congrats you killed the closest thing to Canon Caine!

Car. Just run his ass over.

Baseball reprise: Get a BaseBall Launcher. Tie Caine to a Pole. Unleash hell into him.

throw him into a Pit!

Drown his ass in a bucket of Water

Just Put a Spamton Plushie near him. The power of Spam Emails and the [HOOCHIE MAMA] might just cause him to simply fade to nothingness

make him look at R34. Note: Might not work since he has seen the horrors of Content Farms

just put him in the sun for an hour in Arizona. The heat might cook him like an Egg.

Get a Pomni plush and a Jax Plush. Give em guns. Unleash the firing squad into him.

Get a Gummigoo Plushie. Get your Caine Plushie. Give em both Guns. Dual at high noon. Ps: Blind Caine using the sun or something. (WARNING: Don’t use actual guns use BB guns or something like that so you don’t ruin your Plush this applies to both Gun Based Suggestions. Thank you.)

Go to a Tall Ass Building. Tie a Penny to Caine. And drop that boy off. If it’s Heads He’s dead! Tails he’s still kicking. Repeat till you get tails.(I’m gonna make a part 2 so I figured I might as well make the Halfway mark a nice one)

and @gooseworx feel free to share some ideas for ways to mess with TADC plushies!

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: A Simple Matter of Luck (supershort, post-Brisingr pre-Inheritance limbo)

(A/N: The elves are pretty upset about Murtagh and Thorn after Oromis’ death. Arya takes a moment to tell her mother, in a roundabout fashion, that the hatred and anger is misplaced. And also tell her that, if it weren’t for a simple matter of luck, things could have been very…very different.)

~~~~~

A SIMPLE MATTER OF LUCK

“Mum.” Islanzadí looked up, her scowl breaking. Even now, her heart smiled when Arya called her that. Her involuntary grin fell when she saw the troubled frown on her daughter’s face. “Murtagh…he’s a good kid. It’s not his fault.”

The Queen stared, absolutely aghast. Was Arya…defending Morzan’s son and his devil of a dragon? After what they had just done? “Arya, he killed Oro–”

“I already told you, Galbatorix was controlling his body.” Arya’s voice was firm yet oddly soft. “Don’t blame them for this. It’s not been easy for either of them, and they’re not in control of any of it. You know that.”

“I’m sorry, but I disagree.” The brittleness creeping into her tone was hard to suppress. “There is always a choice.”

Arya dipped her head, just the barest shift. Islanzadí stiffened. Her child’s eyes had gone glassy, hollow. She stared at some unknown point near the mirror, expression blank. That, at least, was some comfort. Whatever she was seeing…it wasn’t causing her pain. Not physically.

And then she blinked, and the dimmed emerald fire sparked back to its usual intensity. 

She didn’t look up.

“Mum…I never told you this.” Arya shifted. Her mother couldn’t see it, but she was sitting cross legged on the ground in her tent, mirror propped up on a borrowed supply crate. She gripped an ankle with one hand, her other trailing her fingers along the thick band of scarring around her wrist. As odd as it was, it was…soothing. “When Eragon was captured by Durza, there were already plans in motion to take me to Uru’baen.” 

The grin she gave Islanzadí was crooked, underlain by the upturned tilt of her brows. “Three days. If Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh hadn’t sprung me then, I would have been taken to Uru’baen in three days. And Durza had already told me of what Galbatorix wanted of a broken elf under his control.”

She tightened her grip, clasped her free hand around the scars and squeezed. Remembered the feeling of magic-laced iron and steel biting into her flesh. The control it robbed her of, the short leash pain and metal and magic kept over her while in Gil’ead. Oh, she had fought. Every second she could spare, she fought. 

And yet…it was a stalemate. She never clawed any of that control away from him. And he never gained more than he initially had over her. It was not victory, but she could not say it wasn’t some form of defeat.

Arya couldn’t imagine the pain Murtagh was going through. Her shackles had been physical. She had no doubt Galbatorix had, and still was, torturing the young man. But to have a Partner of Heart and Mind…

Thorn was Murtagh’s salvation and his curse. His own shackles made of red dragon scale and anguish of shared pain and the terror, horror, agony of being forced to watch someone he loved be, for lack of better words, ripped piece by piece to control him.

If Fäolin had been there. If Glen had been found alive by the man shaped monster that night. If, like Murtagh, Arya had been whisked away to Uru’baen and one of the eggs had hatched at her touch…

She wanted to say she would not have broken had it played out that away. As she always said, she would never break. It was a point of pride, a boast. A softly whispered reassurance. Her truth.

She wanted to say that she would not have broken. That she would have taken their place, made him hurt her instead, or that she would find the resolve to suffer their screams in silence.

But she never wanted to find out.  

It was with that in mind, the path not taken, the future unseen, that Arya met her mother’s golden gaze. 

“So…when you say you hate Murtagh and Thorn, or call them monsters and traitors and think they’re evil…. Just remember that. Because, dragon or not…

“It could have just as easily been me.”

[cattyanon]

Sonic but Undertale Souls: Forces Version 3 Sonic

If you aren't aware, this is one of many Sonic AUs about if the Sonic world has Undertale Souls in it. I explained how all that worked in a separate post and it's recommended you read that to understand some of what I say- and don't worry! It's not a long read!

Anyways this is specifically about Sonic Forces and version 3 of of the other two possible outcomes, all having something to do with Sonic's soul getting fucked up. Anyways, there's more about him and how I came up with the idea below the drawing!

He's finally here, and now I get to rant about what I came up with for him! >:)

You can probably skip this part but if you're curious how I managed to come up with this here's the story behind that: It came from me rewatching Jacksepticeye playing Undertale- specifically from the True Lab section and onwards. During his fight with Asriel I was thinking about how I wanted to do some cool design stuff like Asriel's God of Hyperdeath, but how? If the death rate for absorbing a soul is super high then how on earth could literally any of the characters absorb enough souls (not to mention why and how they'd absorb that many) to gain a form at least somewhat as cool looking as Asriel's? Then version 3 of my Sonic Forces AU came to mind and... well... I'll explain the rest below.

So idk the specifics but during Sonics imprisonment on the Death Egg not only was he tortured but Eggman did all kinds of unethical experiments on Sonic's soul, eventually causing it to turn a color nobody has ever seen before: Black.

With such a corrupted soul and many months of torture he eventually breaks and instinctively kills Infinite (the reason he's got that tail) and eats his soul. Not absorb. Eat. And in this way he gains soul power without absorbing another soul. (Note: He only has this ability due to the corrupted nature of his soul. If a regular person were to try and eat a soul one of two things would happen depending on how fast it breaks: 1 is that nothing would happen, 2 is that the souls attempt to combine and inevitably kill that person's own soul) He ends up repeating this process with Eggman and, deciding he's a monster, stays up on the Death Egg. But eventually he gets hungry. He tries eating the food on the Death Egg but it just doesn't fill him. There's still this cold, empty, and hungry feeling inside of him. And he has a bad feeling the only thing that'd satisfy him is a soul.

So he goes awhile without food, probably about a week, and eventually he's so damn hungry that ends up going down to earth to look for some animal souls to sustain him. He sucks the soul out of the animal's body and basically just secludes himself in the forest. He feeds on the souls of animals, getting ever so slightly stronger with each one, even if he has a feeling that human and mobian souls would be much more fulfilling.

But eventually a nearby village starts finding these untouched corpses left behind when scavenging for food in the forest since the war only very recently ended and get concerned that there's a monster in the forest. So they send a few hunters out and... well... they found what they were looking for, but died in the process.

As for Sonic he's having major issues after consuming a bunch of souls (also causing him to look like the drawing) that had murder on their minds. He tries his best to resist but he ends up wandering close to the edge of the forest near the village, just barely keeping himself from going on a murderous rampage. But then the village sends out a rescue party and he snaps. He ends up consuming every person he finds which is like almost the entire village cause he can see souls that are close by to him.

Although thankfully for literally everyone he ends up staying in that area and basically claims it as his own. The few survivors tell their horror stories and very few people (basically idiots thinking they can kill him with simple weapons) ever go there. But once the world kinda gets back together enough to establish communication again the Resistance Restoration hears about this monster and, of course, want to help. They've got super powers and Sonic has taken on plenty of monsters. All they gotta do is find the Chaos Emeralds and kick this thing's ass!

Thankfully the monster can't absorb their souls in their super forms, but it doesn't take them long to realize who said monster is. And given time the 'monster' might just find these people to be strangely familiar...

Anyways that's it for now! Feel free to ask questions while y'all wait on me to design the form they find him in. Might be hard since I don't wanna make it look like Asriel as much as possible but hey, we'll see.

[genevawrenn]

My Favourite Stories I Have Written, a Blog;

✨Wilbur & Technoblade, Wilbur & Techno & Eret [Twinsduo, Traitorduo, Royalduo]

✨38k The Last of Us AU

✨Wilbur-centric & Techno-centric

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & MCD

✨Chapter 2 / 2 (When You're Lost in the Darkness / Look for the Light)

🎵Atlas Falls by Shinedown

"Wil, maybe you are immune?”

“Just put a bullet through my temple Techno, be simpler than second guessing leading to me accidentally killing you.”

“I won’t do that as long as you remain healthy, let’s just keep going and wait out a few more days before I do something so permanent. Deal?”

“...Fine.”

~~~

Wilbur and Technoblade's parents go missing, one after the other when their mother leaves for a routine outing and never returns leading their father to follow suit. Scared but determined the pair of brothers leave their safe haven to search, facing the horrors of the world they grew up in on their quest to find answers. Along the way they make a concerning discovery after Wilbur is bitten, with the tears of losing a close friend on their face the twins find themselves with more questions than answers on this long road they travel.

✨#mcytficfight Team Mushroom, c!Wilbur Soot & c!Technoblade & c!TommyInnit & c!Phil Watson [SBI / Sleepy Bois Inc]

✨12.1k W.C.

✨c!Wilbur Soot-centric

✨Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵Beside You by Marianas Trench

“I don’t know how to do this.” Wil admitted, looking down at the wrinkled hand he still held pressed to his scar. 

“If I know you, and I hope I do because you are my son, you have the strength to face this. Your inner core is pure hellfire, when forged right you could melt the very bedrock we stand upon if you believe it to be best. For you to even begin to accept how far your actions spread you must face the people it hurt the most. For you to get that determination you must see the pain you caused, then do your best to resolve it because your strength comes from those you keep near, fighting for ideals they believe in. You just care so fucking much about things, son, let those things be the ones you once held dear. After all, when you have good connections you can face anything. You might see forgiveness in the smallest places, but it will be a step forward nonetheless.”

✨#3SongsChal, c!Eret & c!Wilbur, c!Fundy, c!Philza, c!Niki Nihachu, c!Technoblade, c!Foolish_Gamers, c!Awesamdude, c!TommyInnit, c!Tubbo [Traitorduo, Prankduo, Divineduo, Royalduo, Eternalduo, Butterflyduo]

✨15.8k W.C.

✨c!Eret-centric

✨A tour of the Royal Archives

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & MCD & Canon Divergence

🎵WHERE THE SKIES END by Starset

Each space had its time and place, many combinations of conversations happened as they moved through their histories. Wilbur, Fundy, Tommy, Tubbo and Eret stood inside the Final Control Room as they exchanged apologies, the walls of death changing to mean one of reunions even moons later. Father and son eventually discussed their problems, turning into a family discussion when they moved to Wilbur’s Control Room.

Every place they stopped inspired the spark of forgiveness, from tiny to years old wounds, many things were talked about on this tour.

Tommy and Sam took a moment alone inside the copy of the prison cell the teen died in, coming out looking on much better terms. No more glances were traded between the pair, a tentative peace that would only grow stronger with the right sort of nurturing. 

A private moment happened between Ruler and shark totem when they approached the Egg, the Ruler gave themself the grace of the words the shark had told them time and time again, it was time to let go of the regret.

Each exhibit passed in much the same fashion, the people most affected discussing their experiences and talking about thoughts they held for years. When they stood in front of the desk once more, the tour completed, tension no longer crackled in the air.

Comradery had been forged among these broken soldiers who stood before them, each put through their own personal hells in their time spent here. The Ruler felt the lightest they had in years seeing the fire ignited in so many souls once more. 

This is what stories were supposed to do, to bring others together to listen to others words. To share wisdom and morals, to learn from what happened in the past and move forward into the future. Looking at each face gathered, Eret draws comfort that even through it all, they had said yes to coming today.

[The rest below the cut]

“if you find bones in the forest, sit a bit and listen. they are old and have some good stories to tell. maybe they’ll teach you a spell or two, or explain where the water on our planet came from.

✨#mcytficfight Team Phantom👻

✨Eret & Techno, Eret & Niki, Eret & Phil

✨13.4k W.C.

✨Eret-centric

✨Pirates & Sirens & SBI goodness

✨Forgotten by NateWantsToBattle

if you find bones by the ocean, run. don’t look back. run, faster, faster. the sea may love you but there are nights where she knows neither mercy nor science, and the bones warn you only once.”

~~~

Nightshade spent her whole life jumping from crew to crew, following the only magical item that might answer her lifelong questions about the missing part of herself. During her quest she ends up captured by the Shadows of the Abandoned crew who accepts her without condition and she learns to love herself despite the hand life dealt her and unlocks her true heart.

✨q!FitMC / q!PacTW [Hideduo/Fitpac]

✨12.3W.C.

✨q!FitMC-centric

✨Federation Happy Pills aftereffects & Canon Divergence & Romance

🎵How Did You Love by Shinedown

~~~

Finding love in the hints of shaky music and heavy aromas of roses, in the hesitant new beginnings of a starting courtship seeing the worst of each other and still accepting them no matter how battered or broken. They are both on their first dates and their forever partnership, forced together by horrifying circumstances but finding sanctuary in one another's arms and words.

Fit realises just how much Pac means to him after nearly losing him, dedicating himself to treasuring the one who trusted the anarchist to protect him, both healing along the way.

‘Tell me about Technoblade’.

✨q!Philza & q!Chayanne & q!Tallulah, c!Philza & c!Technoblade [Emerald Duo]

✨4.6k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

🎵Traveler’s Song by Aviators

The Angel of Death’s new charge commented a dear name to the ancient crow on the sign in front of him, a small blonde child looking at the avian hybrid with wide blue eyes filled with an ocean of curious questions. A dragon skull encased the top half of his face, held by some unknown force as wild gold curls spilled around it. His rose scaled wings were held close to his spine, peering up at the tall older blonde with an expectant stare.

“Oh Goddess, where do I start with that bastard?” Phil said with a wicked smile.

~~~

Philza tells Chayanne and Tallulah of Technoblade's adventures; from the beginning when they were teamed for Minecraft Monday to the Great Potato War, with a few more in between.

“Who are you?”

✨#mcytficfight team mushroom, c!Eret & c!Foolish_Gamers [Eternal Duo]

✨13.5k W.C.

✨c!Eret & c!Foolish_Gamers-centric

✨MCD & Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵creature by Half Alive

“My name is Foolish, I am here to stop the cult!”

The being proceeded to raise an eyebrow while staring at the demi-god, making him wonder why this brunette wasn’t ecstatic that someone friendly arrived and felt rather intimidated by their glare.

“Alright and how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Foolish opened his mouth to explain before falling short, realising beyond getting into the camp he had no clear idea on how to even stop the ritual from happening. Surprising the shark again they let out a rumbling chuckle, a small smile breaking out across their face.

Wilbur’s face doesn’t quite light up like it used to upon seeing them, early days of their country’s formation flashing to mind when they saw happiness when they spoke. Now he seemed hesitant, stopping before them. “Greetings Eret, off to a party?”

✨c!Eret & c!Wilbur [Traitor Duo]

✨3.6W.C.

✨c!Eret-centric

✨Regret & Canon Divergence

🎵Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes

A warm teasing tone sounded through his voice, one white curl falling down his forehead above his crinkled eyes. A hint of worry hid behind that liquid chocolate gaze but he seemed to be in a pleasant mood.

The Ruler laughs, holding the wine up for Wilbur’s viewing. “A party for one if you can believe it.”

“That’s a rather lonely concept.” Wilbur comments, peering at the label in the low evening light.

His reply stung, Eret tried not to let it dig too deeply as they tried to joke. “I am rather used to it. Just me and my bottle of wine, we will spend a lovely night together.”

“Feel up to adding another to that party for one?”

“Wil-Wilbur?” He stutters a bit, shuddering before reaching a tentative hand out to his son.

✨For meIIohisunsets New Years Fic Exchange Event 2022

✨o!Wilbur & o!Tommy, o!Wilbur & o!Philza, o!Wilbur & o!Technoblade [Crimeboys, Sand Duo, SBI]

✨5K W.C.

✨o!Wilbur-centric

✨MCD & SBI Inc as Found Family

🎵Blackbird by The Beatles

Concentrating, he let the blonde feel his cool dead flesh, looking at how his father has aged in the time past. A deep echoed tone rings through his sonorous voice, an eerie marker that he returned from beyond the grave for unknown reasons. “Hello Dad!”

Phil coos, reaching his scarred palm up to caress his son’s strong jawbone. “My son, what happened to you?”

“My own hubris.”

~~~

Wilbur is watching flying lessons between Philza and his youngest chick, Tommy, when the sunshine blonde gets a little too ambitious and the phantom rushes to his side fearing the worst.

[for the rest of the links my AO3 profile is here]

We May Have Lost Our Sanity (We Have Not Lost Our Humanity)

BOLAS BOLAS BOLAS!!!

✨q!Philza & Team BOLAS

✨25.5k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨Graphic Descriptions

✨QSMP Purgatory Lore Retell

✨Chapter 2/2 (Balance Exists That Calls Through the Abyss / In the Chaos I Create Again)

The Wise Crow Has Been Fooled (A Cage for a Cage)

"Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don't forget. They tell each other who to look after and also who to watch out for."

✨q!Philza & Chayanne & Tallulah, q!Philza & q!Tubbo & q!Fit & q!Etoiles [Hardcoreduo, Veteransduo, Codebreakers]

✨7.4k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨QSMP Non Canon Tale

✨The Call by League of Legends, 2WEI, Louis Leibfried, Edda Hayes

~~~

My non-canon telling of the events from Phil's return to the QSMP after filming and learning of the eggs disappearance up until his capture by Cucurucho.

If the World Wants You Gone, We Will Fight the World

Picking back up his new scythe, his hands find familiar holds on the carved handle as he takes a few practice swings. It had been a very long time since the Angel of Death held a weapon such as this, the past few worlds only allowing him a sword or bow and arrow.

✨q!Philza & Chayanne & Tallulah

✨4.5k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨QSMP

✨Demons by Imagine Dragons

Flaring his crow-black wings wide, chest hurting as his sky eyes catch the shorn secondary and primary feathers, he allows the moniker to possess him once more. Taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes, seeing battlefields soaked in blood by his hand, he opens them once more to look over this world he woke up in mere months ago.

~~~

Philza is invited to the QSMP Electoral dinner only to find his chicks there, the same chicks he put to bed mere hours ago. As the realisation happens that these are not the real Chayanne and Tallulah, chaos unfolds as two binary monsters suddenly appear.

Gentleness in the Absence of Violence (Despite the Abundance of It)

”We have not touched the stars, / nor are we forgiven, which brings us back / to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, / not from the absence of violence, but despite / the abundance of it.”

✨gl!Charlie Slimecicle and gl!Ranboo

✨Generation Loss

✨2.7k W.C.

✨gl!Charlie Slimecicle-centric

✨Graphic Depictions & MCD & Non Canon

🎵Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

~~~

Loneliness smashed into the muscular brunette as Charlie walked past the abandoned storefronts, debris spread across long forgotten floors.

Left behind pieces when not needed, just like him.

Turning the corner of the hall that drew his attention, he freezes at the sight in front of him.

You Make Sure I Always See the Daylight

A Coffee Shop AU about Ranboo, a new student to the city and university, stumbling across The Crows Roost Cafe for some food and he finds so much more than that.

✨#mcytficfight team mushroom, Ranboo & Toby Smith, Ranboo & TommyInnit, Ranboo & SBI Inc [Bee Duo, Allium Duo, SBI Inc & Sleepbees & Friends]

✨32.2k W.C.

✨Ranboo-centric

✨Alternate Universe & Cafe AU & SBI as Found Family

✨Summary continued below

🎵Daylight by Shinedown

A feel good found family story, this follows Ranboo meeting Sleepy Bois Inc and some other recognizable faces, from someone used to being alone to then finding warm companionship served up with his favourite cinnamon vanilla tea.

This will be a multi-part fic telling of how having a support system, even found off random happenstance, can be the best thing that happens to someone.

A White Orchid Broken in the Rain

“You may not remember this, but all of us went through hell to follow your frantic steps. After you left us, when you begged for death which was given to you, we were left in the remnants of what you had done. They were only children, Wilbur, kids left bearing the transgressions of a previous generation’s decisions, something the ones after us should never have to face.”

✨c!Wilbur Soot & c!Niki Nihachu [Rain Duo]

✨11.3k W.C.

✨c!Niki Nihachu-centric

✨Emotional Hurt/Comfort & Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵If You Only Knew by Shinedown

She took a breath, breaking their gaze for a moment before meeting him once more. “You might not have liked any of the things that were said, but I see an element of truth in all of them. So many consequences of your decisions landed on us, the ones sworn to you. While you got death, Wilbur, we got living hell.”

Her words were harsh, her mind finally settled on anger as the words left her full lips. “I do not know how you stand here again today, but I do know every word I've heard so far is deserved. You had the unlucky experience of coming back from the dead to fill shoes stained in blood and its going to fucking suck for a while, but you must face each person you harmed before you can ever begin to feel better.”

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Yesterday my kids went to Paleo camp (? It was an option and I needed childcare) and learned about the impacts of the asteroid hitting and I was talking about how the subsequent ocean acidification caused the base level of life in the ocean (foraminifera) to all die and that created a chain reaction of mass ocean death.

And my son said "But an asteroid isn't going to hit our planet again right?" (Great fear)

And daughter said "no because scientists watch for asteroids and are learning how to push them away with rockets"

And I said, "yeah an asteroid isn't a problem but we still might have that chain reaction of near complete ocean death because of ocean acidification due to global warming because the lower critters on the ocean food chain have carbon shells which dissolve in acid like if you put an egg in vinegar. That's probably going to happen in your lifetime. I don't know why scientists are worried about asteroids."

And then they blinked at me in horror, and then my son asked where tar pits come from and if he needs to worry about getting stuck in one.

[togames]

d20 Turtles for your swamps... Batrachian or otherwise

Cause everybody crazy bout a sharp-dressed turtle

I recently picked up The Batrachian Swamps by Micah Anderson and Nate Treme. It’s great but it needs some turtles! So I’ve provided some turtles for you.

CW: references to dismemberment/body horror, animal harm, suicide/death, and possession.

All turtles are cool and resistant to slashing and water damage unless otherwise specified.

1. Log Turtle A common turtle laying atop a log, it regards you as you pass and won’t move. If touched, it will launch into the water, swimming away in the murky water.

2. Snapping Turtle A territorial turtle that will try to bite (d4 damage) anyone who gets near it. Its bite can remove fingers or toes. If it does not bite those parts, it will latch onto its target and can only be removed prying its jaws open.

3. Painted Turtle A turtle with several beautiful stripes along its head and shell. This turtle is immune to electricity, fire, and water damage, making them prized familiars for magic users, scientists, and tech researchers.

4. Timothy Crabwell! When a creature capable of speaking sees Timothy Crabwell! for the first time, they will shout “Timothy Crabwell!” and this turtle will look in their direction so you know that that is his name. Timothy Crabwell! understands all languages but won’t speak them. Telepathic speech or attempts to read Timothy Crabwell!’s thoughts are not possible. Timothy Crabwell! can cast Lightning Strike (d12) targeting himself and any creature in a 10 ft radius, destroying his mortal body instantly. Any targets killed by this attack are possessed by Timothy Crabwell! Any survivors gain the condition Timothy Crabwell!’s Revenge!

5. Alligator Turtle Found in shallow, murky water. Disadvantage to spot. If someone steps within 2 feet of it, it bites their ankles (d8). It’s bite is capable of removing hands or feet.

6. Green Turtle This turtle has green skin and a green shell. Yes. Good. This turtle is looking for a new home. Anyone with animal experience can see this and a check to domesticate it may be made with advantage.

7. Softshell Turtle Swims lazily through the water. Not resistant to slashing damage. Delicious to eat.

8. Yellow-spotted Turtle A turtle with yellow spots on its skin and shell. If touched, your skin will also have yellow spots all over the next time you wake up. Until cured, you pine for the swamp.

9. Black Marsh Turtle A turtle with a dark, almost black shell, sitting amidst withering vegetation and chomping on a small fish. If a creature moves within 10 feet of it, they age 5 years and will do so again every minute in the Black Marsh Turtle’s vicinity. If touched, immediately start vomiting black peat. Death occurs in 3 minutes if not cured. Those that die from this condition become a Black Marsh Turtle.

10. Spiny Turtle A small turtle with a brown-red shell with serrated edges. Can be thrown to deal 2d4 turtle damage (the Spiny turtle does not take damage.)

11. Box Turtle A turtle with black and yellow patches on its shell. Accustomed to humanoids, it can unhinge its jaw to store items within its body. Will give stored items back for cherry tomatoes or eggs.

12. Mud Turtle A tiny brown turtle that burrows into the mud when looked at.

13. Tortoise This big guy is definitely lost. About 3 feet tall at the crest of its shell, capable of carrying a person or a backpack, albeit at a tenth of normal walking speed. Can’t swim, if you throw it in the water gain the condition Turtle Tort. The next turtle you see will arrest you and take you to a Turtle Tribunal for sentencing.

14. Razorback Turtle A grey/brown turtle that is mainly aquatic, swims at fantastic speeds. Capable of opening mollusk shells.

15. Turtle Turtle Now this is a turtle that turtles! Turtle Turtle wears sunglasses. Turtle Turtle is perhaps the coolest turtle.

16. Brown Turtle A turtle that one might describe as “brooooooown” sitting on the shore. Chomping on some reeds currently.

17. Fire-breathing Turtle A turtle with red stripes, the mud beneath it has become solid ground and steam rises from the surrounding area. Only attacks if harmed, its fire breath dealing d6 damage. Popular in tea shops.

18. Baby Turtles 2d4 baby turtles swimming and playing in the water. Easy to domesticate at this stage.

19. Giant Turtle Seven-foot tall at the crest of its shell, this turtle walks lazily through the water. Its bite (d10) is capable to removing arms and legs but it usually just retreats into its massive shell if attacked.

20. Turtalitarianism God Queen of all turtles, 200-feet tall at the crest of her shell. She shakes the earth where she walks. Her shell is pearlescent and contains every color. Her bite (d100 turtle damage) is capable of removing souls. Turtalitarianism is immune to all types of damage, except Turtle. If a turtle testifies that you saved its life, Turtalitarianism will grant you one wish- as long as it involves turtles in some way.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

The Colbert Questionert

1) What is the best sandwich?

Keanu Reeves managed to get Colbert to specify that this question is “best sandwich For You,” so you don’t have to answer for all mankind.

Toga’s Soup House serves a crab melt that is my absolute go-to for holidays. It includes slices of lemon you can sprinkle juice from to taste, as well as an aioli you can dip it into for a Flavor Explosion On Demand. It’s glorious.

2) What do you have that you should really throw away?

I have three big-box board games - Arkham Horror, Empires of the Void, and Puzzle Strike: Shadows - that I know I’m never going to play again.

3) What is the scariest animal?

Humans scare me most frequently out of everything on the list. But if “animal” specifically excludes humans (say, using a TTRPG classification where humans are Humanoids instead of Animals) I’d go with black widows, which is a matter of personal risk. I know that I have a body that attracts spiders (I’ve had them lay eggs directly on my skin while I was sleeping), I know that sometimes I spook them and that can cause them to bite, and I have seen black widow spiders within 5′ of where I sleep (thankfully, not inside the same room; It’s on the other side of my bedroom wall, in the woodpile. but still).

4) Apples or Oranges?

If we’re comparing uncooked, oranges win it in the depth of winter. Apples win it for me in almost everything else - I don’t much like oranges cooked in things, and I like raw apples more than raw oranges for most of the warmer times of year.

5) Have you ever asked someone for their autograph?

No. I’ve had quick chats with celebrities and given one a gift, but on reflection I think I’ve never taken a signature.

6) What do you think happens when we die?

Pieces of the pattern of who you were continue indelibly - Those pieces were present before you and it is romantic but not necessarily realistic to think that the events of your life will in any way impact them (I mean, if they could then what the hell is “indelibly” even supposed to mean there?). Most of what you think of as Yourself is tied up in all the physical stuff of you, and we know clearly what happens with that.

I think the soul is no more in heaven after death than it was during life; That is, I think the soul is in heaven during life and you have a responsibility to be the angel it is as best you can with your feeble mortal frame.

Also, sometimes there will be a ghost of you. I’ve encountered those personally on three occasions so that’s not really a matter of belief so much as personal experience. But I think of those more as echoes, so while that can be “what happens when you die” it’s in the same section of my brain as “there will be a funeral” and “there will be mourning” because it is not part of the question of what happens to you when you die. The ghost is no the person, no matter how much I crushed on Christina Ricci in the live-action of Casper the Friendly Ghost.

7) Favorite Action Movie?

Kung Fu Hustle. I enjoyed 98% of that movie, often to an ecstatic degree. So many action films spend 1/4 or more of their time boring me. In a run time of 1:39 this has something like 20 seconds I don’t like to watch.

8) Window or Aisle?

Window.

9) Favorite Smell?

I cannot answer this question honestly in a public place. It’s not a sex thing, but it is a secret I am not permitted to share. As a near runner-up I’m gonna say Waffles with strawberry syrup.

10) Cats or Dogs?

Unlike the apples vs oranges question I don’t have a clear winner. To me the better half from either side is easily superior to the worse half of the other side. I am honored to have known many epic cats and dogs.

11) You get to listen to one song for the rest of your life. What is it?

I would 100% cheat this question and stack my entire music collection into The Anderson Megamix, a single track over 30 days in length, and call that my One Song. Failing that, Rhapsody in Blue.

12) What number am I thinking of?

Stephen, listen to me. Are you listening? I want you to see the number ten, imagine the things that means to society, ten fingers, our base-ten math, the shape of the 1 and the 0. I’m gonna bet I got you to think of the number ten at some point in there.

13) Describe the rest of your life in five words.

Creative, Unusual, Giving, Loved, Joyful Do I know? No. But I choose hope.

Feel free to take it yourself.

[crossbowking]

More Than Anything (Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader's feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: "I'd love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?" - @pulplorrd

A/N: Thank you all for the love regarding "Honey & Whiskey" - I loved writing that story, but I'm also super happy to finally be able to move onto something else! I very rarely write established Daryl x Reader stories, so this one was super fun to do!

This is part 1/2.

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Sunlight trickled in through the open window, a gentle breeze rousing you from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

Cracking an eye open, you squinted against the sun rays streaming over your features as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. Burying your face into your pillow, you extended an arm out across the mattress, your brow furrowing when you felt an empty space beside you. Pushing up onto your elbow, you rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm before glancing over at the vacant spot.

“D?” you murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep. You cleared your throat, twisting onto your side as you surveyed the rest of the bedroom. “Daryl?” you called out once more, feeling a familiar pinprick of worry when no response followed.

You flipped onto your back with a huff, taking a moment to stretch out your tired muscles before untangling yourself from the sheets and climbing out of bed. Fighting back a yawn, you padded across the floor and out into the hallway, listening for movement. When you heard a sudden clatter, followed by a rasped cuss, the corner of your mouth quirked up.

You made your way towards the noise, feeling some of the tightness in your chest fade with each step you drew near.

The end of the hallway led to a small, yet quaint, kitchen. When you reached the entryway, you faltered, observing the scene before you — Daryl was crouched down, one hand wielding a frying pan, the other scooping up a small mound of partially cooked eggs from off the floor and tossing them back into the skillet.

You stifled back the laugh building up inside you. “Hi,” you remarked, making your arrival known.

The archer’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flash of what looked like embarrassment flitting over his features before he ducked his head back down, effectively concealing his face with his hair. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, quickly wiping up the rest of the egg residue with the sleeve of his shirt.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” you singsonged playfully, eyebrows raised.

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he stood, staring down defeatedly at the frying pan in his grip. “Cookin’,” he finally sighed, shrugging a shoulder up.

“I see that,” you laughed softly, crossing the length of the kitchen as the archer placed the skillet back onto the stovetop. “Smells good,” you remarked, coming to stand at his side.

“Dropped the —” Daryl spat out another curse as he attempted to scrape the burnt egg bits off the bottom of the pan. “— the damn — the damn thing,” he growled exasperatedly, waving at the pan with the spatula he held.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “No one expects you to be Gordon Ramsey,” you teased, thoroughly amused.

But the reference seemed to go right over Daryl’s head as he turned to give you a confused look.

Your brow furrowed. “You know…Gordon Ramsey,” you reiterated pointedly.

“Huh?” the archer grunted, clearly at a loss.

“Oh, come on, you don’t — you’ve never heard of Gordon Ramsey?” you asked incredulously. “You know, Gordon Ramsey! The mean British chef!”

Daryl scrunched his nose up before shaking his head. “Ain’t never heard a’ that,” he rumbled, focusing back on the frying pan.

“Wow,” you murmured in disbelief. “That is so…so devastating,” you sighed, mockingly dramatic.

The archer snorted a laugh, the sound eliciting a rush of warmth through you. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You grinned cheekily, leaning over and resting your head against the curve of Daryl’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, old habits reappearing briefly before he relaxed beneath you and continued stirring the eggs.

An overwhelming sense of calm rushed over you, a feeling only the archer ever seemed to evoke. You closed your eyes, breathing in the comfort he so effortlessly exuded — and it wasn’t in anything he said or anything he did, it was just purely and wholeheartedly who he was. He was grounded, he was stable, he was here.

You’d missed this — you’d missed him.

The past month hadn’t been the easiest — Alexandria was still recovering from the destruction the dead had caused — but things were beginning to look up. The hundreds of slain walkers had finally been removed from within the community, Carl was recovering from his gunshot wound, and the wall that’d been destroyed was almost entirely rebuilt. There was a sense of hope, of purpose, in the air — your people had stared death in the face and prevailed.

But supplies were beginning to wear thin.

Most were hesitant to venture outside the walls, to leave the sanctuary that was Alexandria, and honestly, you didn’t blame them for that — especially after the attack brought on by the Wolves. You’d seen what other horrors existed outside those walls — hell, you’d lived through it. There was a big, bad, scary world just behind the scraps of steel and metal welded together surrounding the community — there was the dead, the undead, and the living.

The latter was most terrifying.

Still, there were mouths to feed, injuries to tend to, and somebody would have to leave eventually. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Daryl volunteered himself — that was just the kind of man he was. Aaron had decided to join him, determined to continue his search for any other lost souls seeking asylum.

But the supply run had taken longer than expected.

They’d only planned to be gone for three days — but after the fourth, fifth, sixth day that rolled by without any sign of return, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. It wasn’t that you thought they couldn’t handle themselves out there, you just wanted them home — you wanted him home. The tightness in your chest expanded with each day that passed, unease gnawing at your insides, fear settling like an anchor in the pit of your stomach.

Then just yesterday — day seven — right before sunset, Daryl and Aaron had come marching through the front gate. Apparently, their intended route had been cut off by a horde, which led to some rerouting, which resulted in an empty gas tank, which forced them to abandon their car, which meant walking the near-fifty miles back home.

“I was so worried,” you suddenly murmured, drawing yourself back to the present as you lifted your head off Daryl’s shoulder and glanced up at him.

The archer’s eyes flashed towards you for just a brief second before focusing downward, turning off the stovetop, and pulling the frying pan off the heat. “I came back,” he finally rasped after a long pause.

“Yeah,” you sounded, nodding your head absently, his words not making you feel all that better.

Daryl caught your gaze once more before he reached out and placed his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “C’mon, let’s eat,” he rumbled, pulling away a moment later.

You made a soft noise in protest, savoring the rare show of affection and earning an amused eye roll from the archer as he turned away — though you noticed the tips of his ears redden in the slightest.

When you’d first arrived at Alexandria, Deanna had provided two houses to be split amongst your entire group. As time went on and the safe haven had proven to be just that, slowly but surely, everyone began branching out and finding their own homes to settle into. Part of you had reservations about moving into one of the empty brownstone apartments, just you and Daryl, but things had been going well between you — really well, actually.

You settled atop one of the stools lining the small island in the middle of the kitchen, resting your elbows against the smooth marble countertop as you watched Daryl move about. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard, along with a fork from the utensil drawer before swinging around and sliding the items towards you. It was almost eerie how natural things felt in that moment — like a glimpse of what life might’ve looked like had the world not ended and the dead had stayed dead.

The archer grabbed the frying pan, turning towards you once more before using the spatula to dish out a hearty helping of eggs onto your plate. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the look of intense concentration masking his features — as though diffusing a bomb and not simply serving breakfast.

Daryl glanced up at you from beneath his hair, doing a quick double-take. “What?” he grunted defensively, appearing increasingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“Nothing,” you quickly shook your head, letting out a soft laugh and picking up the utensil. “Thank you,” you grinned, gathering up a forkful of eggs.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in response, drumming his fingers against the counter as he carefully watched for your reaction, his nervousness evident — and incredibly endearing.

You took a big bite, humming a noise of satisfaction soon after. “Mmm,” you sounded around the mouthful of food before swallowing. “Chef Dixon,” you remarked cheekily.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right,” he rasped sarcastically, though you watched him visibly relax. He remained standing opposite of you, opting out from using a plate and eating the remaining eggs straight from the frying pan instead, scooping up a handful with his fingertips and shoveling them into his mouth.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the pair of you continued eating, sneaking glances at one another while the other wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help yourself — he was just so damn captivating. Even standing before you, devouring a panful of eggs with his bare hands like some kind of wild animal, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip-flop.

You’d never felt this way about anyone in your entire life — even before the end. But now…well, now you’d live this terrifying life a thousand times over if it meant finding him.

The sudden realization of what exactly you were feeling hit you hard, catching you off guard and causing you to choke on the mouthful of eggs you were chewing. Daryl’s head snapped up as you abruptly coughed, covering your mouth as your eyes began to water.

The archer was at your side a moment later. “Hey, ya alright?” he rumbled, gently patting his hand against your back.

You quickly nodded, attempting to wave him off as your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah — yeah, no, I’m —” you coughed once more, the eggs finally dislodging from your throat. “I’m — I’m good,” you managed weakly, wiping at your eyes. “Jesus,” you wheezed as a sheepish laugh slipped past your lips, your coughs finally dying down.

“Ya sure?” Daryl pressed as he pulled his hand away from your back and rested it on top of your shoulder instead.

“No, no, yeah, no, I’m fine,” you quickly brushed him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” you lied, hoping your excuse sounded convincing enough as the feeling of vulnerability threatened to consume you.

If the archer was suspicious, he kept his expression neutral. He nodded once before softly squeezing your shoulder and pulling away — though he lingered nearby instead of moving back to where he’d originally stood.

“Anyways,” you pushed forward, clearing your throat, desperately wanting to ignore the revelation you’d had. “We, uh — we almost finished rebuilding the wall while you guys were gone. Rick’s got a crew working on dismantling the old one, too.”

Daryl watched your expression for a second longer than necessary, like he knew something was up but wasn’t exactly sure what. But after a moment, he relented. “Saw it on the way in las’ night,” he murmured, leaning down and resting his forearms against the edge of the counter. “Looks pretty solid.”

You nodded, huffing a breath. “Abraham’s leading the team — I’m pretty sure you couldn’t drive a tank through that wall.”

The archer scoffed. “Damn right,” he rasped before lowering his gaze, wringing his hands together atop the counter.

You studied his demeanor, feeling a pinprick of unease. “What is it?”

Daryl glanced up, flicking his hair away from his eyes with a quick jerk of the head. “M’, uh — m’ headin’ out again today,” he finally confessed, standing up straight.

You tried to keep your expression indifferent despite your stomach dropping. “Oh,” you voiced dishearteningly. “But — but you just got back,” you pointed out softly, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt.

“I know,” he said, staring down at the counter, avoiding your gaze. “Jus’ a day trip, is all — Tara heard ‘bout a motel strip, maybe fifteen miles from here. Shouldn’t take more than a couple a’ hours. We’ll be in an’ out.”

You nodded slowly, pushing around the leftover eggs on your plate with your fork. “Alright,” you straightened up on your stool. “Well, I’ll come —”

Daryl started shaking his head before you could even finish your sentence, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/N —”

“Come on, Daryl,” you interjected, already figuring his response, swiveling in your seat to face him head-on. “I’m losing my mind here, okay? I’ve gotta get back out there and — and actually do something for this place.”

“Ya do enough already,” he shot back vehemently.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you slid off the stool. “And besides, we’ll cover more ground faster if there’s three of us versus two,” you continued brusquely, gathering all the stray dishes on the counter.

“That ain’t the damn point,” Daryl growled, following you towards the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, and it's also not your decision," you finally snapped.

When the archer didn’t respond, stiffening beside you instead, a wave of guilt washed over you.

Exhaling a heavy breath, you gently set the dishes down in the sink before turning to face him. “Look, I get it,” you murmured softly. “I get it, D. But I can’t just hide out here for the rest of my life,” you explained. “Especially when you’re the one risking yours.”

Some of the fire in Daryl’s gaze diminished, replaced with a heaviness that wasn’t there before as his shoulders drooped.

You felt something tug at your heart as you stepped forward, reaching towards him and brushing away the hair that fell over his face. “I just got you back,” you whispered. “And I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”

When another long moment passed without a response, you were almost certain Daryl was going to object once more — but then, despite the tension in his features, his eyes softened.

“Alright,” he finally rumbled, the word seemingly caught in his throat — as though it physically pained him to say it.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Alright,” you reiterated with a resolute nod.

Daryl sighed, shaking his head as he nudged you forward. “Well, go on an’ get some shit together before I change my mind,” he grunted.

You quickly straightened, imitating a soldier’s stance. “Yes, Chef,” you saluted the archer, breaking the tension.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. “Shut it,” he rasped — though you noticed his lips twitch up a moment later as he turned on the kitchen sink, picking up one of the dirty dishes.

You stood up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss against the archer’s cheek, the skin where your lips touched tinging pink soon after. “Just give me two minutes,” you said, squeezing his arm as you brushed by him.

Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, caught off guard by the gesture. “M’ countin’!” he called after you.

“Yeah, yeah!” you shouted back, allowing the warmth that filled your chest to carry you the rest of the way down the hall.

Within the hour, you were on the road.

A cool rush of air swept through the passenger side window as you tilted your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, basking in the sun's gentle rays. The wind danced amongst strands of your tousled hair before settling them back down against your features. Tucking away the freed wisps behind your ears, you opened your eyes, studying the scenery flashing by.

Rows and rows and towering trees lined either side of the long and winding road you found yourself on, a seemingly endless forest just behind it. The car hummed beneath you, passing by long-since abandoned vehicles and scattered debris, continuing to barrel down an otherwise empty highway.

It was strange — there was something somewhat comforting, something sort of nostalgic about being back on the road. Like a glimpse into another lifetime.

“— and I swear, this dude was like, six feet tall. He was one of those, you know, typical chauvinistic pricks, thinking every woman he meets at a bar wants to have sex with him,” Tara’s voice rang from the backseat, drawing you from your reverie. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I knocked him on his ass — priceless,” she jeered, an air of pride in her tone.

You shifted in the passenger seat, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you looked back at her. “So, is that when you realized you wanted to join the police academy?” you asked curiously.

“No,” Tara shook her head, a smirk toying at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “That’s when I realized I like women.”

A laugh bubbled out of you at her response, Tara’s smile simply widening as she shrugged unabashedly, picking up the map splayed out across her lap. As your laughter died down, you started turning to face forward — though you’d only made it halfway when Daryl caught your eye.

The archer sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the other propped up against the door. His window was rolled down, the breeze from outside stirring the hair that hung just above his eyes. But what grabbed your attention were his eyes, glinting ocean blue as he glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth faintly lifting.

God, the way he looked at you…

You fought back a smile as you faced forward, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in your life to deserve to be looked at like that. The feeling you’d shoved away earlier at breakfast came rushing back, setting your senses ablaze as you worked on controlling your thrumming pulse.

You loved him.

A heaviness grew in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Fuck.

“Here’s the turn,” Tara’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

The motel came into view, set back behind a mass of trees, partially hidden from the main road. The car jostled side to side as Daryl drove it down the gravel driveway, leading to the complex. There was a handful of abandoned cars parked sporadically throughout the small parking lot, some trash and debris littering the area, and four lone walkers ambling aimlessly.

Daryl pulled the car off to the side, parking it near the trees and out of sight from the main road, the engine drawing the dead’s attention. “I got ‘em,” he rasped, unsheathing his hunting knife and sliding out of the car in one swift motion.

Your lip quirked up as you watched him dispose of the dead, as quickly and effortlessly as breathing — he’d been made for this world, you were sure of it.

“You coming?” Tara’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, the hint of a mischievous smile ghosting over her features — she’d clearly been watching you ogle at the archer.

You felt your cheeks flush at the scrutiny. “Mhm, yep,” you nodded quickly, shaking away the embarrassment and climbing out of the car.

Daryl crossed back towards you, wiping the walker blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans and flicking the hair from his face.

“Show-off,” Tara smirked, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she passed him, heading towards the stretch of rooms just ahead.

The archer simply scoffed a breath, rolling his eyes, though you spotted the hint of amusement in his gaze as he waited for you to catch up.

“It’s so weird seeing you without your crossbow,” you remarked, nearing a moment later.

Daryl grunted a breath, swiveling around and falling in step beside you, neither of your momentum’s faltering. “Jus’ wait ’til I find that asshole,” he grumbled, recalling the man he’d met in the woods all those days ago.

“We’ll get you a new one someday,” you smiled, unsheathing your own knife as you approached the motel. “Or you could use the RPG and blow more shit up.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” Tara called from up ahead, pausing in front of the center of the strip.

“Room by room?” you suggested, stopping at her side. “One of us can stay on watch, maybe check these other cars for supplies?”

“I got it,” Daryl offered with a nod, re-holstering his gun. “I’ll see if I can get any a’ these guys up an’ runnin’, bring ‘em back home.”

“There’s also an empty gas canister in the trunk,” Tara motioned towards their car. “Salvage what you can,” she shrugged before turning on her heel and heading towards the first room.

You moved to follow, only stopping when Daryl reached out and grabbed your wrist. You turned, spotting the worry in his gaze he tried to hide. “Ya be careful, ya hear me?” he rasped, sliding his grip down and squeezing your hand softly.

“I will,” you nodded, squeezing back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a fraction.

God, you loved him.

The three of you moved quietly and efficiently — you and Tara swept through each room, working your way down the entire motel strip while Daryl picked through the parking lot. The building had been left practically untouched — and besides the supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the motel itself, you’d even found luggage and suitcases left behind by guests who’d apparently vacated in a hurry.

By the time you'd made it halfway down the strip, the packs you brought had been filled to the brim.

“Holy shit-balls, this place is a goldmine,” Tara huffed, tossing her backpack down beside yours in the trunk of your car.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it,” you shook your head before scanning the parking lot for Daryl — you spotted him hunched over the hood of a car, his hands buried in the engine, tinkering around. “We should use some of the suitcases we found for the rest of the stuff,” you continued, focusing back on Tara.

“Cool beans,” she shot you a thumbs-up before motioning towards the center of the strip. “Wanna check out the front office before we hit the other half?”

“Sure,” you nodded, slamming the truck shut and falling in step with her as the two of you headed back towards the motel.

When you felt someone watching, you glanced over your shoulder, catching Daryl’s eye — his furrowed brow softened, the corner of his mouth twitching as you sent him a wink and turned back around.

God damn it, you loved him.

Dividing either side of the motel strip was the front office, built just beyond a large swimming pool. There was a tarp draped across the pool, covering most of the swampy green water, though debris floated around the murky edges. Your nose scrunched up as you passed, a funky smell wafting from the mucky water.

“Gross,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before you glanced over at Tara. “So, you and Denise, huh?” you asked curiously, waggling your eyebrows.

Tara huffed a breath, but you didn’t miss the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I could say the same about you and Dixon,” she shot back, fighting off a smirk.

You rolled your eyes despite the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh, come on —”

The rest of your sentence died away, falling from your lips when a sudden growl sounded, breaking the otherwise silent air. You stopped short, Tara halting just beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you strained your ears, listening for where the noise had come from.

Sure enough, a moment later, a lone walker stumbled into view, coming out from behind the front office.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling Tara do the same. “Hang on, I got it,” you motioned for her to stay put as you jogged ahead, pulling your knife from the holster around your waist. You braced your arm against the biter’s throat, plunging the blade of your knife into its skull in one, swift motion before it dropped at your feet.

But just before you turned to head back, you heard it again — snarling.

Except for this time, it wasn’t just one.

Your stomach dropped as a small herd, about a dozen dead ones, suddenly rounded the corner behind the office, their sights set on you.

“Oh fuck,” you swore, stumbling backward, vaguely aware of Tara yelling your name. But when you spun around, you realized that she too was no longer alone. “Look out!” you shouted, motioning to the two additional walkers quickly approaching from behind her.

As she turned away from you, fighting off the dead that’d snuck up on her, you took off into a sprint, putting some distance between you and the horde.

Tara stabbed her knife into the temple of the first, though the second was on her just as soon. It gripped its fingers around her forearm, pulling her flesh closer and closer towards its snapping jaw…

Just before it could sink its teeth into her skin, you managed to grab it, twisting a fistful of its hair around your fingers and yanking its head backward. You drove your blade through its decaying forehead, stilling it instantly.

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

A/N: EEEEEEK! Y'all know me and how much I love cliffhangers :)

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

[lin-nin]

Headcanons for maybe they cause the reader's death? Like in an accident / generally not on purpose. Maybe they're in the middle of a battle and when they try to strike their opponent, their s/o is shoved in front and is the one that they hit instead? I just want angst :DD. Maybe for Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and Bad? Thanks!

heaOOOH ANON, YOU KNOW ME SO WELL. I LOVE WRITING ANGST ITS CHEFS KISS MWAH. I WILL GLADLY WRITE YOU SOME ANGST LOVIE. THESE ALSO CAME OUT MORE LIKE MINI ONE-SHOTS Warnings: Death, Gore, Coerced Suicide (BadBoyHalo)

Techno accidentally killing his S/O

Techno was always so easily caught up in battle. The way the voices chanted and demanded blood, he was quick to give in in the heat of the moment. Doomsday was no different, truly. Hell, he was eager for doomsday, and you had been too. You wanted to cause the chaos. It was only when you were off of the obsidian grid, moving to take down whoever you could with your axe. You and Techno didn’t always keep an eye on each other in the field. You just checked in on one another after, tending to the other as needed. He mainly checked in on you, as you often suffered the worst injuries in battle. You hadn’t heard his rocket launcher fire, ears full of the ringing and chaos and explosions of battle. No, you didn’t realize it until you had moved towards his target, the firework hitting you square in the back.

Techno swore everything was in slow motion then. The way your body flung into Tommy, slipping onto his sword that he had raised in the process to counter you. It impaled you, and he couldn’t see the look on your face. The voices in his head screamed and he was moving without thought, your name spilling from his lips, barely audible over the roar of battle. Tommy looked stunned, letting himself get shoved away once the older man came over, cradling you. You were covered in blood, seeping through your wound and shirt. He didn’t realize he was crying until you shushed him, reaching up to cradle his face.

“Don’t worry,” you had reassured, wiping at his tears and only managing to smear blood over the fur there. “This isn’t my last life. We have plenty of time together, just wait a few days. I’ll be back.” You would cough, making blood spurt from your lips as it bubbled into your throat. Techno could only helplessly watch as the remnants of you life drained from your eyes. This would put you on your final life.

The rest of doomsday was spent relentlessly slaughtering everyone who even looked at him wrong. He was inconsolable. When he returned to his cabin, and you finally came back- with new scars from both the firework and Tommy’s sword, he quickly deteriorated again. He struggled to voice how he felt- that it was his fault that you had been tossed into the blade and killed. He did, however, become fiercely protective of you. He would constantly give you armor and repair it, making sure you were fed and your weapons were the best. For whenever he would allow you back into battle and chaos.

Schlatt accidentally killing his S/O

Schlatt never had many on his side. You, though? You were always there for him. Originally a body guard he had hired, only to find a best friend and lover in you. A confidante. You may not have approved of each of his decisions, but you still protected him. He wasn’t necessarily a fighter, preferring to play the role of puppet master. You acknowledged that when it came to battle, you were a puppet.

It inevitably had already cost you two of your lives. You had no idea if it was intentional or not.

It was when Pogtopia came to attack that you were worried. Schlatt hadn’t been looking good. He had been drinking so much, seeming distant. Withdrawn. Even though you loved him, you struggled to get through to him. You stood at his side as you watched the chaos, gripping the hilt of your sword. Prepared to deflect at any given moment.

Tommy had found the pair of you first, and you easily preoccupied yourself with countering him. Only to feel yourself get whipped around, Schlatt’s hand familiar on your arm. Just for an arrow to lodge itself into your windpipe. You choked and gasped, feeling the blood invade your throat. Had you been warned, you could have put up your shield. Which had clattered to the ground with your sword. You had expected him to be pulling you from danger. Not putting you into it.

“No, no, no, stop it. Don’t you fucking die on me. Don’t you dare!” His voice rung in your ears. It was denial. So full of denial. As if the arrow in your windpipe had sobered him entirely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Stop! Fucking stop, you can’t leave. You aren’t allowed!” You gazed up to him with a weak smile, resting one hand on top of his.

“I won’t.... leave without you.... Don’t.... leave me waiting,” Your words were choked, interrupted by bubbling gasps. You would pause to cough up blood, gagging and choking on it with each breath and word. He dropped your body when you stopped breathing, standing up with his jaw set and an ache in his chest he didn’t want to identify. He didn’t keep you waiting, surrendering in the battle before succumbing to his failing health. The afterlife, though cold, was a little warmer and more humorous with him there.

Dream accidentally killing his S/O

Dream loved you with a passion so fierce it felt like the flames from the fire of it would often engulf you. The protection he gave to you, the way he often spoke to you or held you. It wasn’t bad, it was just always much fiercer than you ever anticipated. This translated to everything, too. He fiercely encouraged you to fight with him, but not to the point of getting yourself killed.

You weren’t always too good at following those words.

You had lost your first life fighting against L’Manberg. Not a direct cause from Dream, though. Just carelessness on your behalf. After that, he hovered near you during fights. Making sure you didn’t die. You didn’t mind. It at least showed how much he loved you, right?

Of course, he said all he cared about was the discs. When questioned about you, despite his hesitance, he had insisted you meant nothing to him with the same ferocity as before. It had hurt, cutting deeper than any blade before. You left, with Sapnap and George. You didn’t know where that had left the two of you, but you knew you couldn’t be near him and his delusions.

It’s how you ended up against him on Doomsday, staring him down atop the grid. The wind whipped at you and he pointed his crossbow at you. You didn’t blink, even as it loosed and shot the bolt into your leg. You had lost your balance, tumbling off of the grid with encouragement from the wind. You had narrowly missed the edge of the growing crater, thankful for the protection of your armor.

Only for the explosives raining down to knock the land from beneath you. You were sent tumbling down into the crater, landing on your neck. You had no recollection of it, no understanding of the horror he felt at watching you fall from such a height. He didn’t need to be told it was fatal. He hated himself for it. For what he had caused. Because, despite his words, he did still love you.

It wasn’t until you visited him in the prison, a nervous twitch in your hands as result from the fall, staring him down, it came crashing down on him. He had ruined you. “I wish he killed you. I wish I could kill you.” Your voice was cold, and you raised your hand to demonstrate the constant tremor caused by the neurological damage. You couldn’t kill him if you tried. You could barely hold a sword.

“I would deserve it.”

Bad accidentally killing his S/O

(Warning for suicide coercion)

You absolutely adored Bad. And He, you. That much was obvious. Life with him was fairly good, too. Mostly peaceful, and pleasant. The occasional bits of chaos, but so long as it didn’t directly affect you, you didn’t care. It usually didn’t, and you were content with that. Content to help others and stay neutral as needed. Until the appearance of the egg, of course.

You hated it. It made you uncomfortable, in a way that had your head ringing and chest feeling tight. You would avoid it as much as possible. You only came to dislike it more as it affected Bad. The way he didn’t make himself seem so small anymore, towering to his full height. The way he would kill a person over the egg, if it told him to. It was all so much.

Yet at the end of the day, he always came back to you and seemed almost like your Bad. Almost.

“Cupcake, give it a chance,” Bad had insisted one day, pulling you towards where the egg was. Even if you wanted to fight him on it, you couldn’t. Not physically.

“Bad, I told you. I don’t like it, it makes me feel... wrong.” This hadn’t been the first time the two of you spoke of this. Yet he insisted. The two of you had bickered until he tugged you into the building, unceremoniously pushing you towards the drop. Despite your protests, you fell in. Everything immediately felt wrong as you came close to it, the whispers of it not new. You had heard them before.

Yet it was vile as always, causing you to claw at the room in attempt to leave. Until it was all too much. There was one way out of this that you could see, even if it would cost you dearly. You sought out the vines of the egg, using them to rid yourself of your current life, much to the egg’s encouragement.

When you were free, you were different, the patterning of the vine clearly visible on your neck. You had packed up all of your important things, leaving Bad a note and going as far away from the influence of the egg as possible. Bad was clearly distraught upon finding the note. He looked for you for a long while, but always came back to the egg. At least, if the egg helped him bring peace to the entire place, he could get you back. Right? That was the newest goal. Bring peace and bring you back to him.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards Part XI:

(Technoblade x reader) First Part / Previous Part

Shimmering lights sparkled above you, your dress was a deep scarlet that billowed around your feet like a halo. The corset around your waist felt tight as you leaned backward spreading your arms wide like you were asking for a hug from the universe itself. The ballroom was vast and empty, only soft music could be heard behind you, soft violins, and harps. You took in the warm lights above you, your diamond wedding ring shone brilliantly off the candles as you began to hum. Blood covered your masquerade mask, neck, and hands, a bloody sword laid by your feet, long since falling out of your hands. Hands traced the curvature of your figure and soft lips landed on the juncture of where your neck met your shoulder blade. A smile came across your lips as you breathed lightly, “Billiam.” His hands traced soft circles on your hips, the butler watched from afar, his brown hair covering his glowing red eyes. Karl watched in mild terror as Sir. Billiam whispered something in his wife’s ear, your grin only served to widen till your cheeks hurt, you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. Your eyes met with Karl’s and he took a few steps back, he couldn’t believe that all this time it was the mild-mannered wife, in the ballroom with the sword who killed the party. Sir. Billiam kicked the sword up and caught it in his hands, you leaned against your lover's chest as he held the sword against your throat, red rubies trailed down your neck in droplets. The violins picked up in a loud roaring crescendo, “Praise be the egg,” you whispered as he sliced your neck wide open swallowing your mouth in a kiss.

“Praise be the egg, my dear.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, it clung to you like a second skin as you sat up. Your hands came to cover your neck where it had been cut in your dream...nightmare? You couldn’t quite place a name on it, Aether and Technoblade both stirred beside you. Technoblade sat up on his forearms and turned his head to face you, you were breathing heavily. He watched as you brought your wrist up to your line of sight, three tally marks were etched into the skin, your jaw dropped onto the floor.

Technoblade reached over Aether to snatch your wrist and get a good look at the marks, three cannon lives. You had three, he gaped at you

You were intertwined in the twisted workings of the Smp, DreamXD had smiled upon you and your household.

“Is it supposed to be itchy?” You asked while you carried Aether upstairs trying to ignore the buzzing underneath your skin, Technoblade frowned at his wife, a mixed feeling churning in his gut. On one hand, he was relieved you had more than just one life, but on another hand now that you’ve caught the eye of DreamXD...you’d never be free to live a peaceful life. “Cause it’s really itchy,” You whined while sitting Aether down on top of Steve so you could scratch at your wrist.

“I don’t remember. I think mine was,” Technoblade gently removed your nails from your skin. “Don’t scratch at it, all you’ll do is irritate the skin, I’ll grab some ointment.”

“Thanks, Tech,” You kissed the corner of his lips and he smiled weakly at you, for that was all he could do in his current state of turmoil. He opened up the first aid kit and came back over to your place in the kitchen. Aether was sitting on the countertop lightly nibbling on a muffin. Technoblade stood beside you as he picked up your hand, he pressed a feather-light kiss to your new lifeline before he gently rubbed the hydrocortisone on your irritated wrists.

“Better?”

“Much,” You sighed in relief gazing at the lines with mild interest. Technoblade wanted to draw you away from whatever you were thinking,

“I got a letter from BadBoyHalo.” Technoblade piped up grabbing a pot of coffee, “He wants to meet up with the both of us, I have a feeling it has something to do with the egg.”

“Egg?”

“You’ll see.” He groaned, “I have a feeling he’s going to show up sometime today. I’ll bring Steve as a backup just in case,” Technoblade sighed watching you glance over at Aether, eyebrows furrowing together. You looked back over at him,

“We can’t let him know about Aether.”

“He won’t.” You let out a breath of relief and kissed the top of Aether’s head, he smiled up at you and made a happy sound. “We’ll keep him safe under the floorboards if he can keep quiet he’ll be okay.” Technoblade ruffled the top of Aether’s head with his hand, “You’re a good kid right?” Aether nodded his head rapidly not wanting to let Technoblade down, “Thanks, kid.” Technoblade caught your fond smile and flushed a light pink, “what?”

“You’re attached.” You hummed wrapping your arms around his waist, he grumbled under his breath and pushed you off, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He sighed as knocking sounded on your cabin door. “Go hide Aether, I’ll distract BadBoyHalo.” You nodded picking Aether up into your arms and kissing the top of his head, Technoblade opened the door an eyebrow cocked. “New outfit?”

BadBoyHalo smiled a wide smile at the blade, his new black and white robes billowed from behind him as he stepped into Technoblade’s abode. “Yes! You noticed, do you like it?” He chirped fondly stepping back a little as Steve bared his teeth. “Is that a polar bear?”

“He’s Steve. It’s (Y/n)’s and I’s emotional support polar bear, he’s a good boy. He’s very good at following commands, he’s a great attack bear.” Technoblade tossed a fish Steve’s way and he caught it in his mouth tearing it to shreds in a matter of moments. BadBoyHalo’s nose scrunched up in distaste,

“That’s...um nice.” He cleared his throat before clapping his hands together, “where is your lovely wife?” He tilted his head to the side smiling a tight-lipped smile.

“She’s finishing up getting dressed. She’ll be back here in a second, slept in,” Technoblade waved the demon man off. Steve’s nub of a tail began to wag as you climbed back up the ladder, “Here she is now.”

“Hello! I’m Bad it’s very nice to formally meet you, Mrs. Blade!” Bad grinned reaching out to shake your hand, you took with a smile.

“Pleasure, and (Y/n)’s just fine. I’m more than just Technoblade’s eye candy.” You winked teasingly at the tall man who looked shocked,

“I never meant to assume-”

“You’re fine.” You reassured, “I was only teasing it’s no problem.” You smiled warmly as Steve nudged your elbow, “Hi big guy!” You cooed kissing all over the bear’s fur, he rumbled deep in his chest. Bad looked shocked at the bear’s complete compliance to your affections, “So! Where are we off to today?” You hummed as Technoblade pulled you close to his side, eyeing Bad suspiciously.

“I just have someone I want to introduce you to is all.” Bad hummed fondly, “I want to see what you think of it, I think all of you will get along great.” He praised his close friend fondly, and you smiled,

“We’d love to meet them, we can bring Steve right?” You looked up at Technoblade innocently,

“I’m not sure if that’s-”

“Obviously.” Technoblade scoffed called Steve over to him, he walked over with a gruff huff as Technoblade placed a lead on him. “Okay, we’re all ready when you are,” Technoblade nodded as BadBoyHalo blinked in mild shock,

“Um...okay!” He cleared his throat, “follow me then I suppose!” He headed outside the home and as you all left Technoblade caught sight of Ranboo. The halfling was holding a grass block in his hands and Techno motioned for him to follow. As the group of you made your way into the hole that was once L’manburg, Bad talked and talked about how wondrous his friend was, and how excited they were to meet the both of them. The entire way there Technoblade would destroy these red vines while urging you not to touch them, you were confused but listened without argument.

Even though you listened without argument, you couldn’t help but be drawn to touch them, they seemed to be whispering to you softly, wanting you near. You pushed the thoughts to the side, trying to block out those whispers, however, it was much more difficult than you anticipated. Your mind drifted wondering if this is how Technoblade felt daily, you understood him a little bit better at that moment. The raspy voices called Sir. Billiam’s name, the name meant nothing to you but made your head pound and your heart hurt painfully. You jolted feeling a hand grasp your shoulder, you were met with the concerned face of Technoblade. Unbeknownst to you, you all arrived at Bad’s friend’s hideaway, “You alright?” Technoblade whispered into your ear,

“I...Yes.” You responded as Technoblade squeezed your shoulder once again, he wished he could’ve brought Steve in with him to comfort you. “I’m alright Tech, we shouldn’t keep Bad waiting.” You entered the red room with your husband following close behind you, your eyes widened in horror seeing the entire room coated in thick red vines. There in the far right corner sat a giant pulsating egg, the voices grew louder urging you to reach out and simply touch the vines.

“Don’t touch them,” Technoblade told you almost like he could read your thoughts, the demon scoffed at Technoblade’s protectiveness. Bad crossed his arms in front of his chest but didn’t argue. The Blade picked you up in his arms just to be extra safe and carried you over to the egg, before gently resting you on the solid cobblestone floor. Your stomach churned with anxiety as Bad smiled brightly motioning to the egg, introducing you and Technonlade to his so-called friend. You were barely paying attention to what BadBoyHalo was saying, a voice entered your mind, it poked at the sides of your brain, trying to find any available crevice to slip into.

‘Lady (Y/n) I haven’t seen you in decades.’ It purred in your mind stealing your breath away, ‘You’re just as beautiful as I remember you being, and still married to a descendent of Sir. Billiam I see. Not even death could keep the two of you apart.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You thought pupils shrinking, ‘Who’s Billiam? Who are you?’

‘I go by many names the one most familiar to me is The Egg. I can grant and honor your deepest desires, my dear, I see all. I know all. I can help you get what you want most in the entire world.’

‘Oh do you?’ You mentally scoffed, ‘Jokes on you I don’t even know my own desires.’

‘Don’t you wish for Tommy to come back to you? For everyone on the SMP to be at peace. For the children not to suffer, to raise Aether in a safe environment free from government and its posion? Have other children with your husband, raise them well?’ You felt your cheeks turn bright red at the thought,

‘How did you-’

‘I know all my child.’

“Princess?” Technoblade grumbled beside you, pulling you against his side, “Keep your focus on me alright.” His eyes narrowed at an innocent-looking Bad, “What are you trying to do to her?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Bad hummed drumming his fingers gently against the egg, “She’s talking to the egg! It’s offering her the world just like it’s going to do for you! It only wants to help.”

“We don’t need anything else, especially not from some overgrown chicken egg. We’re fine.” Technoblade snarled at the demon and the egg the voices were demanding blood and the egg’s promises were drowned out by the voices. He was getting a migraine as his patience ran thin, Bad looked a little nervous at the way Technoblade’s teeth grit against one another.

“Techno…” You whispered quietly leaning against his side, You tried to reassure him but the way the voices urged for blood didn’t sit well with him, especially now that Bad had caught sight of Ranboo as well. Technoblade didn’t want to be forced to choose between Ranboo or you, he’d avoid that scenario at all costs.

“Just stay by me and don’t touch the egg or anything.”

“But-” Technoblade shot you a stern look, worry flickering across his face, he didn’t like that but, not at all. “It’s not all bad…”

“WHAT!” All four of them shouted, wait four? When did Captain Puffy get here? The only one overjoyed was Bad as he clasped your hands within his own.

“I’m so excited to hear that!” He exclaimed pulling you away from Techno who bared his teeth at the demon. “Come closer, you just have to touch it!”

“Oh fuck that!” Puffy snapped shooting an arrow right in between you and Bad, distracting you just enough so that Technoblade could snatch you back in his arm. “Bad you can’t just use the egg to manipulate people to join your side! Especially not (Y/n)!”

“Language!” Bad scolded the pirate his eyes narrowing, “I’m- We’re-” He motioned to the egg, “Aren’t manipulating anyone! The egg showed her something she desired, something she needs, and that it can help her get!”

Technoblade’s brow furrowed as he looked at you, red seeping into the corners of your eyes. He couldn’t imagine what you might want enough that he couldn’t give to you. A selfish part of him was hurt that he couldn’t provide enough, couldn’t make you happy enough so that’d you’d listen to an omlette. Still, he wasn’t just going to hand you over, he gripped you tighter,

“Look just, just give me one more chance to convince both of you!” Bad gushed, “All of you, follow me. You too little spy.” Bad pointed a claw-like finger at Ranboo who shrunk in on himself. He stepped over the vines motioning for all of you to follow, reluctantly you all did so, Puffy put a hand on your shoulder while Technoblade hovered close.

“You alright girly?” Puffy whispered to you, the red was still swimming in the corners of your eyes. “You can get through this okay?”

“I’m alright Puffy. I just have a killer headache.” You spoke with a strained smile, “Everythings just all muddled, I keep seeing flashes of...someone who looks like me in a striking red gown. I just…” You groaned rubbing your eyes causing Technoblade to turn to look over at you, you sent him a weak smile back. He growled under his breath, not mad at you just mad at Bad, he knew that you were hearing voices. He knew how difficult that was from personal experience you just needed to hang on a little bit longer, then you both could sleep the day away with Steve and Aether. When Bad brought all of you to the other egg-like structure he wanted to run his sword through Bad’s chest, fuck not bringing Steve along.

Bad tried to argue against the bear coming into the meeting area, he simply vetoed that by simply ignoring the demon man’s protests. Ranboo was silently hovering around you, everyone seemed to be on high alert as their nerves increased. Even in your delirious state, your hand interlocked with Ranboo’s claws giving it a reassuring squeeze,

“It’ll be alright Ranboo,” You reassured as Bad smiled at the both of you, “Trust me. If anything goes wrong Techno will protect us.” From behind you Technoblade’s shoulders relaxed considerably, he knew he would protect you, for now, that was enough for him. Bad went on and on about the egg, sliding in a few casual threats about Ranboo and even (Y/n). Technoblade was desperately trying to keep it together, the voices roared for blood after all no one threatens (Y/n) and one of his only friends. He watched as Bad gripped both the shoulders of his wife and Ranboo, a sinister smile on his face.

“After all Techno, it would be a crying shame if something happened to Ranboo and (Y/n) wouldn’t it?”

Technoblade’s pupils turned into slits as steam exited his nose, he grit his teeth. “Don’t touch them,” He hissed viciously even Puffy who was beside The Blade pulled out her sword. Technoblade decided to follow her lead and just as Technoblade pulled out his sword, the floor below you and Ranboo gave out. You let out a startled yelp as you grabbed onto Ranboo, as you fell, you held him to your chest you wouldn’t let him get hurt. As your head make contact with the stone ground you were out like a light.

An elegant figure stepped out of the large master bedroom, her hair pulled back, her slippered feet padding against the hardwood floors. Moonlight shone in through the large windows illuminating your features, you stepped out onto the balcony where your husband stood. A glass of whiskey in his hand, he twirled it absentmindedly, his loose pajama pants sat low on his hips. Your arms wrapped around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder, he tensed only briefly before relaxing in your arms.

“Beautiful night Billiam.” You responded casually pressing a kiss to the side of his neck,

“Can’t sleep my dear one?” He asked, voice rich much like the taste of honey, as Billiam reached up and brushed his thumb against his wife’s cheek.

“I could say the same thing to you,” You shot back with a sad smile as he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. “Are you at all worried about the masquerade tomorrow?” You asked softly as he turned around to face you, he grabbed your hands brushing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Are you?” Billiam asked tenderly as you looked away in shame, “It’s alright if you are. You don’t do this often, but the egg is pleased that you want to take part.” Billiam’s eyes flashed a deep scarlet, but the love in his eyes was still the same.

“I know and I’m honored.” You exclaimed passionately, holding your hands to your heart, your own eyes were a deep red color. “I want to help the egg grow and thrive!” Billiam smiled fondly and kissed your lips softly,

“I know you do. So relax, the masquerade will go off without a hitch. All you need to do is follow the butler’s and my lead.” You nodded obediently a tired smile on your lips, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Come with me?”

“Of course,” Billiam gave an elegant bow, taking your hand within your own and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to your knuckles. You giggled sweetly before placing a hand on your lower back leading you back to the bedroom. The both of you slipped into the satin bedsheets and fell asleep side by side. As the morning rolled around, Ranbutler woke the both of you up and requested you both got ready earlier than expected. Billiam waved him off as the both of you getting ready for the masquerade ball he was throwing that evening. You slipped on your deep red dress, there was a slit up the leg and a low cut neckline. You had diamonds adorning your ears and a neck, your high heels were also littered in silver sparkles that almost made you the same height as your husband. A crow-like mask was chosen as your main accessory for the ball, “You look gorgeous.” Billiam spoke from behind you, his fingers trailing down the slope of your neck you smiled shyly, “almost ethereal.”

“Thank you, my love.” You turned to face him, you couldn’t deny he looked pretty dapper in a suit himself. “You clean up rather nicely too,” You giggled flattening out his lapel and pulling him close to press a kiss to his lips. He hummed against them before pulling away,

“I have to check on the preparations for tonight, wait for me?”

“Always.” Your husband walked out of the room whispering something to his loyal butler who nodded, Ranbutler looked over to you and you sent him a small smile. He gave you a little bow and you shushed him softly allowing him to rise to his feet. “Checking on the egg I presume?” You smiled as the butler gave a stern nod, both your eyes flashed a deep scarlet, a loud knock was heard on the front door of the mansion. “Someone’s early,” You pursed your lips heading out of the room, heels clicking against the floor, the butler following behind you. As you stood at the top of the steps, you saw your husband talking to what you assumed was an early guest to your masquerade. He was handsome, brown hair curling all over the place, odd goggles adorned the top of his head. Your husband immediately called him poor and you had to hide your laugh behind your hand. You stepped down the steps hand gently touching the golden railing,

“Billiam, my love, don’t be rude.” He turned to face you just as the guest’s eyes widened,

“(Y/n)?”

“Oh? Have we met?” You titled your head to the side with a fond smile,

“No. You just...you look like an old friend.” He cleared his throat holding out his hand, “My name is Karl.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” You took his hand as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, Billiam let out a soft grumble of displeasure.

“He’s a youtube streamer.”

“No way!” You gasp in awe taking Karl’s hands, “That’s wonderful you have to tell us all about it!” You gushed fondly as Billiam placed a gentle hand on your back, his mouth moved in the shape of your name but you heard nothing in your ears. Your brow furrowed as you saw your name again, suddenly you felt like you were drowning, people shouting your name. Your eyes snapped open as you took a deep breath in, you were being pulled from the water. Hair stuck to your forehead as you coughed, water dripping down your head. You recognized a shape wrap you up in a tight hug, they were saying something but everything was muddled.

“Billiam?” You croaked out and the figure pulled away raising an eyebrow, they cupped your cheek tenderly,

“Heh? Who? Princess, it’s Techno.”

‘Techno? Who was Techno? Your husband!’ You sat up taking in a gulping breath, your eyes turning back to their normal (e/c) color and not the sudden scarlet. You looked around, Ranboo was shuffling in the corner holding a grass block, Puffy was beside him a gentle hand on his back. You looked around and you seemed to be in some sort of stark white church, a bell was in the corner and purple stained glass windows littered the walls.

“Where are we? What happened?”

Techno ran his fingers through your wet hair detangling it, “You were briefly corrupted by the egg. But Puffy knew how to snap you out of it.”

“You didn’t kill Bad did you?”

Technoblade grumbled under his breath, “I wanted to.”

“I wouldn’t let him.” Ranboo murmured, “You’d be upset.”

“I would’ve been,” You licked your lips nervously as you heard Technoblade grumble behind you.

“He would’ve deserved it,” You hit him lightly as he rested his chin on top of your head, “What? He would’ve, the Egg hurt you and that Egg is his best friend. Therefore you getting hurt is his fault so I will spill his blood.” Technoblade hissed, “And we’ll make an omelette out of that fucking egg.” He snarled looked up at Puffy who sent him a nod and a smile,

“I’m glad to know you’re on our side in this Techno,” Puffy smiled kneeling to sit beside you, “You too (Y/n).”

“Obviously.” You said swiftly, trying to cover up any hesitance that slipped into your tone, while the egg’s corruption was washed from your mind, his promises still held tight. “Sorry...I just have a killer migraine.”

“That’s completely normal, make sure she gets some bed rest,” Puffy told your husband handing him a little bottle of the holy water. “If she’s starting to slip, this will help,” She reassured and you smiled at her gratefully. “You’ll be back to normal in no time cutie,” Puffy beamed kissing the top of your head fondly.

“Thanks, Captian.” You praised and she hummed,

“Anything for you,” Puffy hummed standing back up to her feet, “I know first hand how scary the egg and its power can be. Living far away will help, try not to bring her back here for a while.”

“I won’t.” Technoblade nodded picking you up in his arms, you nuzzled against his neck and closed your eyes tightly. He squeezed you tightly, “don’t scare me like Jesus you’re a liability.”

“I’m sorry, trouble just seems to follow me around.” You spoke softly, sneaking a little peek at the lives on your wrist. You still had all three,

Good. You weren’t going to let some egg take one of them, not again.

The woman in red appeared once more in your mind and the man who looked suspiciously like your husband, beside her. He spun her around and dipped her, before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. As they stood up they both disappeared into an array of golden sparkles, you opened your eyes and Technoblade was staring down at you. He looked concerned, his sharp red eyes peering into your soul. Technoblade led Ranboo and Steve back to your shared property, you were halfway asleep by the time all of you stepped into the gates.

“We need to talk about what happened.” He murmured to you as Ranboo and Steve hovered around nervously. “Alone preferably!” Technoblade cleared his throat, Ranboo jumped up smacking his head on the doorframe, and nodded,

"I'm glad you're okay (Y/n). Genuinely,"

He said smiling sadly before slipping out of the house. Steve huffed out a snort and made his way down to Aether, to entertain him while the adults talked. You rubbed your eyes and sat down on the couch by the fireplace, trying to warm yourself up. Technoblade slipped off his cape and wrapped it around your shoulders to keep you warm while you talked. “What did the egg promise you?”

You looked ashamed, ears turning pink, lying was something you and Technoblade never did. There was a mutual trust earned and respected and you weren’t going to betray that trust, “That it could end all the pain everyone’s been experiencing. That it could help the children finally be at peace and get the freedom they deserved, that we wouldn’t have to worry about people hunting us down. That we could raise Aether and be a family together without worry.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet Technoblade’s eyes.

“Do you think I can’t protect you both? Is that really what you think?”

“That’s not fair Techno! That’s not what I mean!” You looked up at him and he didn’t look happy, “I just want everyone to be at peace here! Kids shouldn’t be suffering or put on pedestals! I know you’re perfectly capable of protecting us. What if we have more kids? Will Dream eventually get to them too?”

“I’d never let anyone touch them, you know that.” He hissed eyes narrowing, “You need an omlette to promise you protection? Don’t argue, because you slipped under its control, you did. So some part of you agreed.” Your mouth snapped shut at Technoblade’s words, your eyes narrowed and you refused to look at him. “Why am I incapable of keeping you safe?” His true feelings bubbled to the surface, you heard the slight crack in his voice. You looked back up at him, his hands were balled into fists, your furrowed brow unraveled. You reached out and took his fist in your hand, you gently rubbed the fist as it slowly relaxed in your hand. “I love you, and I’m failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” You said softly “Not once have you failed me. You saved me from Dream, you saved me from the egg today, hell you saved me in general. I’m your wife and I’ll always love you.” He gave your hand a tight squeeze, “I just wish everyone would feel as protected as I do with you.” You admitted quietly, “even though Tommy betrayed us...He’s still a kid you know? I can’t help but feel guilty, I could’ve done better.”

“You couldn’t have. You’re not his mother.” Technoblade scoffed, “I’ll be the first to remind you about how stubborn he is, stubborn and loyal. If there’s anyone he’s always going to stick to it's Tubbo, even if we showed him kindness.” He watched you nod his head before he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. He watched your brow furrow as Steve lumbered back into the room holding Aether by the back of his overalls. You smiled over at the sight as Steve dumped your son in your lap, he made a happy squeal and buried his head in your chest.

“I missed you too Aether, did you have fun today?” He gave a happy nod reaching into his front pocket to pull out a little drawing. It was a stick figure drawing of you and Techno both holding his hands, on top of Aether’s head in the drawing was a scribbled on crown. They were both labeled something in Piglin, Technblade made an embarrassing sound as Aether squealed happily. “What? What does it say?”

“Mom and Dad,” He spoke weakly pinching the bridge of his nose and he watched your entire face light up.

“Yes! Exactly! Good job Aether!” You praised pressing kisses all over his face, “I’m your mom, and Techno’s your reluctant father!” Techno clicked his tongue in distaste at the situation, but he couldn’t lie looking at your happy expression, and Aether’s pure joy it melted his facade.

“Yeah, good job kid. Go hang it on the fridge,” Technoblade urged shooing him away and he ran into the kitchen excitedly.

“You didn’t deny it.~” You teased biting your lip fondly, “You Aether’s dad now?”

“That depends does that make you a MILF?” Technoblade questioned with such a casual deadpan it made you burst into hysterical laughter. You nodded your head rapidly as he pressed a fond kiss to your lips. “Remind me never to say that again, if I ever do please run the nearest sword through my body.”

“Will do, you absolute idiot.”

You turned to look over your shoulder at Aether who was sticking his drawing on the fridge eagerly. Technoblade took in your features, watching you look so calm even with your still-damp hair. He adored you, every single inch of you, from your wondrous brain to your beautiful body. He watched as you snuggle into his cape before turning back towards him,

“We have to protect him with our life. If anyone ever lays a hand on him they won’t live to see the next sunrise. I’ll make sure they burn and water the land with their blood.” You hummed fondly closing your eyes, that shouldn’t have turned Technoblade on as much as it did. He cleared his throat trying to calm himself and the voices down. They wanted to pin her into the couch and devour her, he cleared his throat once again, now was not the time nor place. Especially not with his supposed son in the next room, he swallowed thickly. He couldn’t believe that he was beginning to consider the zombie piglin in the other room his son. He couldn’t believe the voices were considering Aether his son. The urge to protect the child and keep that smile on your face was strong, and he couldn’t help but bend to its pull. That’s when a thought occurred to him, a smile spread across his features, there needed to be people willing to fight the tyranny you were concerned about, something to make sure anarchy always remained supreme.

They needed a syndicate.

A wide smile spread across his face as he kissed you passionately, you let out a small surprised sound.

“What was that about?”

“I have an idea.”

Sic semper tyrannis. ~~~

Tag List: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @Natalie-is-a-wall@alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

[wienerbarnes]

Witch Bitch

Pairing: Bucky x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3,943

Warnings: witch stuff, burning at the stake 😳

A/N: this is heavily inspired by american horror story: coven bc i recently watched and ive been binging all of it lately but its not necessary to know anything about ahs lol i kinda just used their fancy magical terminology and concepts bc they were cool🤪 

MAIN MASTERLIST

The best time of the day was breakfast. It was the time when Bucky, Sam, and Sharon were most often together. Sometimes training overlapped and they missed lunch. Sometimes missions ran long or friends were in town and they missed dinner. But the morning? They were all early birds, all awake by seven. They took that shared characteristic and shared breakfast together whenever they could. Bucky usually took care of the coffee, Sam usually took care of the eggs and bacon, and Sharon usually took care of the bagels, toasting them to perfection before slathering on a layer of cream cheese.

It was a moment of peace in their day. Quiet before the noise of the gym or the conference room or the jets or the private trainings or the interviews with prospective agents or anything else they do on a daily basis. It was a time for three friends to just sit and eat and enjoy each other's company as though they are just that: three friends. Not super soldiers or captains or special agents. Just people being normal. Normal doesn’t last long, though. It never does for them.

Bucky’s on dish washing duty this morning while Sam and Sharon chat idly behind him, waiting for him to finish so they can all leave together. A soft voice interrupts them, though, making the three of them stop what they’re doing because no one has access to this floor except for the people that live here - meaning them three.

“Who’s in charge here?” You ask.

“Who the hell are you?! How did you get up here?!” Sharon asks, ignoring your question.

You were in a long, flowy black skirt, slit cut in the left side exposing your leg, and a long-sleeve black shirt, tucked beneath the waistband. Think black boots cover your feet and a black hat sits on your head to complete your look. Bucky almost doesn’t notice the folded black umbrella underneath your arm as his eyes trail down the multiple chains and necklaces around your neck, falling between your breasts.

“I’ve been trying to find someone to help me but the people in this building are not very helpful. I figured I’d find who’s in charge myself, something that you all don’t seem to want to help me with, either.” You explain.

“The only way to even enter this building is through strict appointment and background checks, and no one’s even allowed past the nineteenth floor.” Sam explains.

“Why are you entertaining this? I’m getting her out of here.” Sharon says, moving to walk towards you to take you out of the building herself.

As she nears closer and closer, you wave your hand lazily, without taking your eyes off Bucky, the only one who hasn’t said anything this whole time, and Sharon collapses on the floor soundlessly.

“Jesus!”

“What did you do!”

Both Bucky and Sam panic as they rush to Sharon’s body on the floor. They frantically run their hands over her body, looking for the point of injury that made her collapse the way she did, but they find nothing. No holes, no blood; she didn’t even make a sound.

“She’s not breathing and she doesn’t have a pulse, what the fuck did you do to her?!” Sam yells at you.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you got me. I don’t need help finding who’s in charge, I already know it’s you. I still do need your help, though.”

You’re ignored as the two men hover over their friend, unsure of what to do or what even happened to her.

“Oh, alright, move.” You order them, stepping over Sharon’s body.

You stand before her, lifting your hands to hover over her body before closing your eyes and letting out a deep and long exhale. Bucky and Sam watch as it takes only about seven seconds for their friend to suddenly gasp for air, jumping back to life. The boys crowd her once more, checking her eyes, her pulse, everything to convince themselves that she’s actually alive like that, and if she was even dead in the first place.

Sam finally looks back up at you from the ground, as though he just remembered that you’re there, “What are you?”

You smirk in response, ready to finally get what you came here for.

…

“So, you’re a witch?” Sam asks, the four of them now occupying a private conference room for some privacy.

“A witch who killed me.” Sharon adds.

“And a witch that brought you right back.” You reply, leaning back on your chair, leg crossed over your knee, slit exposing your thigh. Bucky’s eye twitch to look at your bare skin for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“So… what do you do?” Bucky asks.

You smile at his innocent curiosity, “All witches don’t have one universal power. Some are clairvoyant, some do voodoo, some dabble in pyrokinesis, divination, transmutation, descendum,” You glance over to Sharon, who’s still pouting at you, “Resurrection.”

“And can you do all of those?” Bucky asks.

“Almost all of them, but I’m not here to talk about me.”

“Why are you here?” Sharon asks.

“You guys hunt the Nazi’s, right?” You ask, aiming your question towards Sam, knowing he’s the Captain in charge.

“Hydra, yes.” He confirms.

“Well, your Nazi’s somehow got a hold of my magic. And they are playing with very dangerous fire,” You begin.

Bucky interrupts, “We’re all for taking down Hydra, but, don’t you think you’re a little more… powerful than us?” He asks.

“Bucky!” Sharon slaps his arm, as though she’s shocked that he would ever admit such a thing.

“I am. But I’m not that powerful, either. Not anymore, at least. A group of those Hydra invaded the coven my sisters and I were at. I was the only one that escaped.” You tell them.

“Did Hydra take them?” Sam asks.

“No, they killed them.” You respond, growing irritated as the subject grows touchier and touchier.

“Can’t you just bring them back like you did me?” Sharon inquires.

“No! I can’t. Like I said, I’m not that powerful anymore. Maybe I’d be able to bring back a house full of dead girls when it was me and twelve others but it’s just me now. I wouldn’t come all the way over here if I had other options.”

Silence grows over the group as they process what you’ve gone through. Surviving through the massacre of your fellow witches and not being powerful enough to find the people that did it on your own. You’re vulnerable.

“So what can we do?” Sam asks, ready to join forces with you.

“Help me locate the men who did this so I can handle the magic part.” You tell him.

“What magic do they have?”

“Although witches control most of the magic, sometimes it can be taken on in… physical forms. Specifically blood. The blood they retrieved was from a witch that was skilled in Vitali Vitalis.”

“The alive within the living.” Bucky translates.

“There are two worlds: the living and the dead,” You begin to explain, “Vitali Vitalis keeps the balance between these two things and it’s one of the most difficult powers for a witch to master. Oftentimes it’s used to give parts of your own life, health, and energy to someone who needs it. But it can also allow you to take life from someone and give it to yourself.”

“Like immortality?” Sam questions.

“Not quite. Any witch can be killed with a knife or bullet. This kind of magic keeps you from dying of age. I’ve only ever known one witch who mastered it.”

“What happened to her?”

“She used it for evil, like this. Took the souls of hundreds in order to allow herself to live for almost three centuries. Until she was killed, of course.” You finish, a small smile on your lips knowing that she got what she deserved.

“What, you burn her at the stake?” Sharon jokes.

“Yes, actually. We did.” You tell her matter-of-factly, becoming more and more irritated at the fact that she doesn’t seem to take this is as seriously as you are.

Bucky interrupts, sensing the rising tension between the two girls, “So when we find these guys, you’re going to burn them at the stake, too?” He asks.

“Yes,” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “The consequence of using magic like this for evil is death by fire. I hope you all don’t think the rules will change on account of these men being Nazi’s?”

“Well, we just have a different way of doing things -” Sam begin to defend

“Yes, I’m aware. The countless destruction caused by you and other militaries, the millions of innocent lives lost yearly, not only in the constant war and irresponsible handling of your nuclear and alien weaponry, but by incorrect prosecution. Not to mention the billions of dollars spent on your ridiculous prison systems that don’t work when actual bad people escape and the death penalty practices in certain states. I just figured my way was easier. And cheaper.” You reply.

Silence crowds over the four of them once more as they think over all their options.

“I’m in.” Bucky speaks first.

“Me, too. Even if I don’t like you.” Sharon follows.

“Feeling’s mutual, dear.” You smile at her.

The three of them look to Sam, waiting for his commitment as well.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Plans were made, theories of location were thought of, and plans to execute the mission were put into place, all of which included you. A temporary room was given to you when the information of your lack of a place to stay was brought to light. Only for the duration of this mission, is what Sam told you, but you can spot the amount of love and light in his heart from miles away.

It was later that night, and you’ve since cleansed the room, going as far as to place a protective spell on the entire floor. You’ve lost too much already, and you’re not about to risk anything.

A knock at the door sounds and the visitor you’d been expecting has finally arrived. You walk towards the door, still in your clothes from earlier but now you’ve removed your shoes, and open the door to reveal Bucky.

“I was waiting for you.” You tell him.

“How’d you know I’d come?” He asks, stepping through the door when you step aside, silently gesturing to him to enter.

“I can hear your thoughts. You've been debating whether or not to come see me for the past thirty minutes. Your mind is very loud.”

“Tell me about it.” He mumbles to himself, thinking about the countless nightmares, voices, and all the other reminders of just how loud his mind was.

“You can ask all your questions, you know. I won’t take any offence. You’re just curious.” You tell him, settling on your bed, hoping he’ll join you and stop hovering near the door.

Luckily he takes the hint and takes a seat across from you.

“I’ve never met a witch before. A real one, I mean. Like, someone born a witch. Like Salem witches -”

“I understand.” You chuckle lightly.

“You don’t seem… afraid of me. Or, hesitant, rather.” You tell him, thinking about how he’s received your presence here compared to his colleagues.

“I was wary when you killed my friend, but… you just need some help, is all. I’m sorry, by the way, I’m not sure if I said it before, but, I’m sorry for what happened to your friends.” He tells you.

He’s very polite. But you supposed that’s not abnormal considering he got his manners from the 1920’s. You like it, though. You give him an appreciative smile before giving him the okay to ask you whatever he wanted.

“So you said that witches can master multiple powers but have one specialty; is yours resurrection?”

“Yes; it was the first power I ever exhibited when I was a teenager. I was about fourteen or fifteen. My next mastered skill is descendum and then clairvoyance, where I was in my twenties, or so.” You tell him as he looks at you with pure fascination in his eyes.

“What is - what is descendum?”

You pause, “The power to descend your soul down into the afterlife - to hell. And return alive.”

His eyes widened, not even knowing that was something someone can do; not even knowing that hell existed in the first place, “So, you’ve been to hell?”

“Yes. I’ve also been able to retrieve people from hell, their soul. A variation of my power of resurrection, I suppose.” You explain, not being too fond of that power; descending to hell.

Bucky sits in silence for a few minutes, and you let him. You can hear the question lingering around in his head; what he’s thinking. But you let him build up his own courage to ask it. You know he’s only scared of the answer; the answer you know he’s not going to like.

“What is hell like?” He whispers.

“It doesn’t matter what my hell is like. Everyone has their own personal hell they experience when they die.” You tell him.

Confusion clouds his features as he registers your answer.

“Is there… Is there no heaven?”

You smirk, “It’s nice that you’ve remained religious after all this time.”

“Yes, there's heaven. But only for the purest and most innocent of souls. And rarely do people escape life without sin. Everyone has evil in them.” You tell him, knowing it’s a harsh truth that no one wants to hear.

The people Bucky’s killed, the crime he’s committed, the families he’s hurt; it all passes through his mind. Everyone has evil in them.

“What was your hell like?”

“I’m not telling you that.” You tell him quickly.

Bucky ponders what his own hell will be like, after seeing the way you’re clearly shaken up about your own. The fall from the train. The man in a lab coat sawing off the rest of his arm. The needles poking through his skin in the middle of some facility. The chair.

He doesn’t realize that he’s looked away from you until he snaps his thoughts back to the present and sees he’s looking down into his lap. He glances up to see your face, your soft features and kind eyes staring at him. He glances from your eyes to your lips and back up again before clearing his throat, not realizing how close he got to you during his time here sitting on your bed.

“You know, I, uh, I should go. Thank you for, uh, answering my questions, but we head out pretty - pretty early tomorrow, so,” He trails off, standing and patting down his shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in a nervous habit.

He makes his way towards the door and his hand touches the knob when he hears your voice, “Hey, Bucky?” He turns slightly to face you again, a hum to indicate for you to continue.

“Thank you for coming to see me. And thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me. You’re a very good person.” You tell him sincerely.

He gives you a nod of you’re welcome before exiting.

He’s not sure if you told him that because you truly mean it, or if it’s because of the state of anxiety and existential crises you’ve put him in now that he’s going to be thinking about his personal hell, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.

He thinks you’re a pretty good person, yourself.

…

The mission goes off without a hitch. The combined skill of the Avengers’ stealth, spyware, and experience along with your magic and witchery makes for an easy capture of the men who killed your witch sisters and stole your magic.

It’s not long before the facility they were at was shut down and cleared out, arresting any officers and rescuing any prisoners or hostages, and the five men specifically responsible for the destruction of your coven are in separate custody. What’s left of the blood is returned to you, as well.

That’s where the group of you stand now, a decision to be made about the criminals you’ve captured. To be put in the maximum security prison floating in the ocean, or to be put to death by fire.

“I don’t believe in being the executioner of people.” Sam tries to convince.

You can’t help but let a laugh escape you, “Do you know who you work for?! Do you know who you are?!” You remind him.

“Those guys can’t escape the Raft.” He tries, referring to prison in the middle of the ocean you’ve heard about.

“You did.” You respond, knowing about when Steve Rogers took him out of that prison, along with other superheros.

You see Bucky and Sharon look between the two of you, torn between how these Hydra criminals should receive their fate. Staring into the hot depths of flames or rotting alone in a cell? Both seem to be too merciful, in Bucky’s opinion.

“This isn’t just running the facility or experiments, Sam. This is different. They were using dark magic to commit crimes. Maybe they should face the consequences of a dark-magic-punishment.” Sharon offers.

You don’t have time to be shocked at Sharon agreeing with you and picking your side before Bucky agrees and Sam is outnumbered. He stares at you and gives a single nod, allowing you to do this your way.

You smile, a silent thank you for giving you the closure and opportunity to serve justice to those who did you harm. “Off to Massachusetts, then.” You tell them, and Sam takes his seat in the pilot's chair, Bucky accompanying him in the front of the jet.

You take a seat, making yourself comfortable for the flight to Salem and you feel a body take the seat next to you. You glance up to see Sharon looking at you, but you notice she has something in her hand, offering it to you.

You look down to see a small plastic bag of fruit gummies. But not just any fruit gummies, you realize. Halloween themed fruit gummies. The pictures on the outside show the various options inside: witch’s hat, a broom stick, a melting pot, a vial, and a magic wand. Hilarious.

You take the gummies, though, accepting her attempt at a truce.

It’s not long before you and your temporary teammates find themselves standing before a large, empty field, multiple wooden stakes standing about fifteen feet tall scattered about with plenty of space in between.

You lead the walk to a group of them standing tall in line, so the men can be burned at the same time, as opposed to one by one. A group of large, burly agents lug the Hydra operatives along, behind you and the rest of the team.

Bucky hangs around your left, as to not be in the way of the black umbrella held in your right hand, and Sam and Sharon trail behind you. You can sense their uneasiness and tune out their worried thoughts. Everyone’s first burning is always an experience; they’ll get over it.

Bucky doesn’t seem worried, though. In fact, you can’t hear his thoughts this time around. But he still stands tall and straight, walking with confidence, so you make a safe assumption that he’s okay.

None of the men’s cuffs or shackles are removed, but thick rope is tied on top of it, around the wrist and looped around the waist, tying them to the stake. The cuffs are special grade - high tech Avengers vibranium - and they can be retrieved later once the fire burns out.

“Any last words?” You ask, more for tradition than whether or not you actually care.

They look scared, obviously not expecting their fate to look anything like this. You remember seeing Bucky tackle one of them in the facility, prying his mouth open to rip out a tooth, or what looked like a tooth, like a dog caught eating something it wasn’t supposed to. A cyanide pill.

Silence comes from them, except for one of them, “Hail Hydra!” He yells, as if that cowardly and pathetic phrase would change anything.

With a raise of your hand, seemingly with no effort, you wave it and the stakes all begin to rise up in flames. There’s nothing to spark, no twigs, no gasoline, nothing, and Bucky watches as the flames rise, growing stronger as they engulf the five men. They begin to scream, and Bucky looks over at you, as if to confirm you didn’t bring gasoline or something with you, and he sees a smile slowly grow on your lips.

They haven’t stopped screaming; they’re still alive when you turn and begin to walk back the way everyone came. Bucky follows, and eventually Sam and Sharon do, too, the other agents staying behind until the end to retrieve the cuffs and shackles that will survive the fire.

“So, now what?” Sharon asks, the air quieter as the screams have slowly stopped in the distance.

I can’t imagine what kind of paperwork follows this, “Back to the tower.” Sam responds.

“The coven’s only a short walk from here.” You say, not needing to elaborate much more. The men have been caught and brought to justice, but you still have a broken, battered, and beaten down coven to fix.

A friend of yours was meant to go by and retrieve the… bodies. Which you’re grateful for. But magic won’t help you fix the walls, the floors, mop the blood, or find other witches in need of an escape and a place to improve and master their powers. You have a lot of work to do.

As the view of the jet gets closer, you prepare to bid your goodbyes to the Avengers, your thank you’s as well. Regardless of your attitude towards them before, you couldn’t have done this without them.

A metal hand engulfs yours, pulling you back a bit as Sam and Sharon continue on.

“Do you need any help?” Bucky’s warm and gentle voice floods your ears, hand still in yours.

“You guys have been more than enough help, now, really.” You try to tell him, but he has none of it.

“You may be tough, but you can’t fix up that house by yourself,” He tells you, “I can be pretty handy, fixed up a few things back in my day.” A soft smile grows on his face.

You glance over his shoulder as Sam and Sharon wait by the entrance of the jet, “Don’t you have to go back?”

“They won’t miss me.” He tells you, not even looking back to confirm with his teammates, hand dropping to run it through his hair.

You giggle at him, before giving him a shy nod in answer to his offer to help you fix up your big house.

“I’m going to hang out here for a few days.” He yells over his shoulder.

“We figured.” Sam calls out, and Sharon throws you a wave as they board the jet, the opening close after them.

“Lead the way?” Bucky offers you, taking your hand once more, interlocking the fingers this time.

And so the two of you are off, one of your hands still clutching the umbrella, holding it above your head, and the other hand interlaced with the one of a handsome and kind super soldier. This wasn’t the way Bucky expected the last two days to transpire, but he’s glad they led to holding the hand of a very pretty witch.

[artificial-ascension]

Death Note How To Train Your Dragon AU Wammys Kid Dragons and Backstories

Based on this post.

Beyond

B wants a dragon just to fuck shit up with it. He definitely wants a stoker class and is after a Typhomerang but stumbles upon a hatchling Monstrous Nightmare instead. (I picture B's nightmare as male with a deep red color with dark black highlights and a very light yellow underbelly.) B ignores the baby Nightmare but it keeps following and refuses to leave out of spite so after several months of being tailed by this baby Monstrous Nightmare he gives up on the Typhomerang and takes the Nightmare and decides that having good access to it's gell would be a good trade off. It's a rocky start but him and his asshole dragon get along after awhile and they both cause a good amount of destruction while just island hopping. (Also B names his Monstrous Nightmare 'BroadFire' because it sounds cool and starts with a B.)

L

L's the son of an important chief and is given a variety of neat dragons to choose from but chooses none of them because he found a cool egg while exploring somewhere super remote and suprise it's a fucking Nightfurry. Now L is very excited and very scared because Nightfurries are very cool but extremely rare and endangered so having one and potentially more on the island puts a huge target on him and his village so L and his dragon are put into hiding by his father and train in private. In his spare time L takes up exploring the island and studying the dragons and also keeping an eye on dragon hunters because it's fun and he needs to keep his dragon safe. L's Nightfurry is male and a dark blackish blue and is named 'Starkiller' because it shows how strong it is (fucker can kill a star wow) and because when Nightfurries fly in the night sky they blend in with the sky not the stars so it looks like it's a spot where there are no stars.

A

A was raised on an island with a fuck ton of Whispering Deaths. One day he and his friends (ok I want to say his friends were L and B and they split up in their youth to pursue their own things but got back together later) and A finds an egg that looks kinda weird and his friends are all "leave it here" or "smash it" but A is intrigued and keeps it and first off that's how A got exiled for bringing a Whispering Death into town because she was looking for her egg but also how A hatched a Screaming Death and returned the Screaming Death to it's mom who was very thankful (she didn't know he was the one who took it in the first place) and now A has not only a Screaming Death but an army of Whispering Deaths and some nice tunnels to vibe in. A calls his Screaming Death (which is male) Andrill (a mix of Andrew amd drill) and he treats it like an over sized dog much to the horror of his village who won't let him back in because he's a feral dragon child with a pet that eats islands for din din.

Mello

Mello's just some delinquent who wants to run away and prove himself sitting outside and watching a lightning storm. He's vibing until he sees a Skrill and immediately knows he wants one. So Mello reads up as much as he can and sets off to find and train a Skrill. It takes months but eventually he finds one frozen in ice. It's young and scarred and a dark purple. Mello thaws it out and begins the tedious task of training and understanding his dragon (Which can't fly yet because it's too young.) Mello and his Skrill both have people they want to get revenge on and are both rambunctious and determined to prove themselves and become good friends and eventually ride off to chase storms and kick ass. Mello's Skrill is a female named 'StormStriker' because 1. It sounds cool as fuck 2. It chases lightning storms 3. "He'll use it to strike down his enemies".

Matt

Matt has approximately 23 smothering Smokebreaths and they all have names and he can tell them all apart even though they all look grey and smoky because they're Smothering Smokebreaths. His favorite one is the female leader of the pack called 'CloudSmith' because it smiths clouds of smoke and also collects metal so it's like black smith. Anyway, Matt's family is all balcksmiths and he befriended the Smokebreaths using metal scraps from his parents shop. Now he just hangs out in their nest and makes little metal things. (Also I feel like Matt could also have an Armorwing in this AU just so he could have something to ride like the other kids. Matt's Armorwing is male would be used to the Smokebreaths so they wouldn't fight and the Smokebreaths would be able to tell it's armor from random metal. Matt's Armorwing would be named NightKnight for the fucking pun.)

Near

Near has a Stormcutter and his story is that he got taken from his village as a baby and was raised by dragons, his 'mother dragon' was an old titan wing Stormcutter with a white base and greyish highlights (albino like him) that he calls 'Cloud' (he came up with that name when he was like 4.) Near spends most of his time secluded with his dragon and flying around with her.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,295

Chapter Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, aftermath of (temporary) character death, mild disassociation, slight s.uicidal ideation, references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: The emotional fallout is intense, but they don’t have time to stop and deal with it. Wilbur doesn’t particularly like where they decide to hole up, but beggars can’t be choosers.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Twelve: nowhere to run

The sun is too bright in his eyes. Too bright, and wrong, somehow, that it should be shining like this. Should still be shining, after the loss they’ve just suffered, after watching his brother crumple to dust in front of him. But the sun hardly cares for things like that, so they all stumble out of the hole in the ground that serves as the entrance to the spider spawner and beyond, and the daylight surrounds them, unforgiving.

“Where do we go, what do we do,” Tubbo is chanting, and Ranboo is muttering under his breath, a continuous litany of, “I can’t believe he’s gone, I can’t believe that happened—” His own lips feel glued shut, his throat devoid of sound. His skin buzzes.

(the two images interpose: Techno hanging from the vine, head at an unnatural angle, Techno wavering on his feet, blood pouring from his throat, and there is a flash of light and there is ash all at once, as if the first caused the second, as if instead of healing him, shoving his soul back into a body clinging to life, the totem burned him up from the inside out, and unlike the phoenix there was no rebirth)

“We can’t stay here,” Puffy says. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking, but her voice has the same determined cant to it as it always does. “We need somewhere to hole up.”

“And where is that supposed to be?” Sapnap demands. His breathing is unsteady. “Where the fuck are we supposed to go after that? Where isn’t the thing gonna be able to reach? With, with Dream being, being, what even was that? Why was he—how was he—?” He breaks off, sparks crackling at his fingertips, and his face is a mask of distress, of questions

(was he always like that and did I not see or did something happen to him did something make him like that is that my friend or is there something inside of him something behind his eyes that is not him at all and if that is the case how did I not notice how did I not notice how did I not save him)

that Wilbur feels he recognizes. Or would, if he let himself. If he let himself care.

His eyes drift over to Phil. Phil, who stands silently, blood dripping from his wings, a thousand old injuries reopened by thrashing thorns. Who stands with Tommy in his arms, Tommy, who is curled up as tightly as he can reasonably manage, his face tucked into Phil’s shirt. Trembling. Quiet.

(he will die and I will kill him, the Egg says, and I have already begun, and you cannot protect him, you do not have the strength, except by what I can grant you)

“Church Prime,” Puffy says. “It’s the only place that might be safe.”

“Who’s to say it would be?” Sapnap snaps. “You saw it in there! The vines have never moved like that before, and Prime knows what else it can do now. And maybe the Egg wouldn’t be able to get in, but who’s to say that would stop—” He cuts off again, face contorting.

His leg is beginning to hurt, now. All of him is, actually, now that his adrenaline is wearing thin, now that the horror is sinking in, but it’s concentrated in his leg in particular, and he looks down to see that his left pant leg is all but shredded, blood dripping down in steady streams and splattering on the grass by his feet. The vines got him worse than he thought, then, and he bites his lip against the sting.

He’s had worse, though. He’s had so much worse. This is practically nothing, and Puffy and Sapnap are still arguing, and Tubbo and Ranboo are huddled together, eyeing the vines around them with deep suspicion, unmoving as they are just yet, and Phil is silent, and he’s going to stay silent, because Wilbur recognizes all too well the strain in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto Tommy with a death grip.

(he’s watched two of his sons die, now, and Techno will be back, will still have two lives left, but that does not heal the hurt, does not assuage the pain of seeing your brother, your son, your family die in front of your eyes before you can lift a finger to stop it, and Phil’s eyes shine with a grief almost beyond what Wilbur can understand. except he understands all too well, in the end)

He’s had worse, and someone needs to step up.

(the old mantle settles across his shoulders, and if he closes his eyes it’s like nothing’s changed at all, and the sun sets on the city he is determined to give everything for, still standing, walls still strong)

“Boxed in like a fish,” he croaks, and Puffy and Sapnap turn to him as one. “That’s what we’ll be, if we go to Church Prime. Whether it protects us in the moment of not won’t matter once we run out of supplies. We need somewhere better situated. Somewhere we can defend, that might withstand a siege, if it comes to it.”

Puffy makes a frustrated gesture. “I’m open to suggestions,” she says. “The prison, maybe, if we have to? We could probably keep people out as easily as—ah, shit, Sam.” She pulls her communicator out and taps out a quick message, and then frowns. “It’s telling me it can’t go through. Why isn’t it going through? Sam had all three lives, he should be—”

“Admins can read private messages,” Phil murmurs. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Dream could fuck with the whole system, whatever the fuck he is.”

Wilbur reads between the lines. Techno, for the moment, is unreachable. He processes the information and moves on, refusing to let it get to him, refusing to let himself be overpowered by

(Techno’s unreachable Techno’s unreachable Techno’s respawned and he’s on his own and they can’t talk to him can’t get to him quickly and what if something went wrong what if something happened)

emotions.

“Sam will make his way to us,” he says. “I’m vetoing the prison. Like hell are we staying in there. Other thoughts?”

“What gives you vetoing power?” Sapnap asks.

“Somebody needs to make a decision,” he says, and it is with strength he doesn’t feel, confidence he is only pretending at, a force of command that comes from some unknown place, since he feels as though he is miles away from himself, “and I don’t see you coming up with anything. Either help or stop complaining.”

Sapnap’s face reddens, and he opens his mouth, to argue, no doubt, but then Ranboo breaks in with, “Foolish, maybe?” and hunches his shoulders when attention turns to him. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m pretty sure Foolish isn’t, um, a big fan of the Egg or anything, so maybe he could help?”

Wilbur has no idea who the fuck Foolish is.

“Nah, he’s too far out,” Tubbo says. “It’ll take ages to get to his place. And we need somewhere close, but not too close, so we still have a good place to fight back from, right, Wilbur? If we leave now, the Egg’ll just take over the whole SMP with nothing to stop it.”

“My thoughts exactly, Tubbo,” he says, and again, it is just like the old days, and they are standing atop the L’Manberg walls, and Tubbo has just said something particularly clever, and warmth and pride curl in him before he remembers where they are, what they’re doing. They need to decide, and soon. They’re just hanging around near the entrance, and sooner or later, someone’s going to come after them, whether they let them go at first or not. “Is there anyone else who has a good position, location-wise and resource-wise?”

“Wait,” Puffy says. “Eret’s castle.”

“Eret’s castle doesn’t have doors,” Sapnap says.

“No, but I stopped by earlier to see if they wanted to join us,” Puffy says. “They weren’t there, but the grounds were completely free of vines. And sure, there aren’t any doors, but between all of us, I’m sure we could make some. Eret’s got plenty of supplies, last I checked.”

Eret. The name evokes a wealth of associations, most of them unpleasant. His first instinct is to reject this idea like the last, to avoid placing their lives in the hands of one who has already betrayed him, who led them all into a death trap, who almost ended their revolution in one fell swoop. But Puffy has a point. Eret’s castle ticks all the right boxes: it’s defendable, well-supplied, and if there are no vines to clear, all the better. They’ll have to build doors, but between the lot of them, that’s easily manageable.

(a wealth of associations and many unpleasant but there is Eret offering them supplies offering their fragile rebellion help and they tried so dearly to redeem themself and he could not have seen that then wrapped in his own shadows as he was but perhaps he can see it now perhaps he can better appreciate it, give a little more benefit of the doubt, and if he is given a second chance after everything after committing the worst crime of all then who is he to deny them absolution?)

(another memory, more blurry: he is scared but stalwart as they go through the motions, and he does not want to die, is terrified of that endless void, but he knows that the server needs a leader and his living self must be that leader, and Eret is here, and Eret agrees, and Eret acts out their part, and Eret is trying so hard, and he cannot see their eyes behind their glasses but he imagines that if he could, he would see a fool’s hope in them)

“Eret, then,” he says. “We go to Eret.”

And no one disagrees. It’s strange. They have no reason to listen to him, really. They have far more reasons not to listen to him, more reasons to think that following his lead will end in disaster than otherwise. But Puffy nods, and Sapnap backs down, and Tubbo and Ranboo both look to him for direction like it’s the war and he’s in charge of child soldiers once again. Phil looks to him, too, but his expression is inscrutable, and only a slight tightness around his eyes shows that he’s in any pain at all.

So they go to Eret. Staggering through the grass, tripping over vines that still don’t move, thank Prime, and then along the Prime Path, and his leg hurts worse with every step, pain jolting up into his hip, it seems, and it’s not long before he’s walking with a limp. But they’re all hurt in some way, so he hides it as best he can. He can deal with it when they’re safely behind stone walls.

And then, Tommy says, “Put me down, I can walk.”

Wilbur glances over. Tommy’s face is still buried in Phil’s shirt.

“You sure, mate?” Phil asks softly.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Tommy snaps, louder now, turning his face outward, pushing against Phil’s chest. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths coming short and fast, and he’s trying to pass it off as anger, and maybe part of it is. But Wilbur knows him better than to think that that’s all. Knows him better than to think that he would have let Phil carry him in the first place if he was alright.

“Okay, then,” Phil says, and swings Tommy down. Tommy wavers for a step, but slaps away Phil’s hand when he extends it, muttering a sharp, “Fuck off.”

And then they keep going. Tommy doesn’t say anything else. Wilbur keeps glancing at him, but he’s refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, even Tubbo’s. And—that’s another thing that’s going to have to wait. He wants nothing more than to stop now and make sure that Tommy’s going to be okay, but they don’t have time, and the general in him will not call for a halt until the retreat is over, until he is sure the enemy is not biting at their heels.

(retreating from Dream once again, and it is familiar and not, the same and not, and history runs in a circle, echoes and rhymes)

Eret’s courtyard is indeed free of vines, just as Puffy promised. Wilbur half-expects them to be nowhere in sight, based on what Puffy said, but they are standing right there, next to a skeletal horse they’re frantically saddling, and they’re checking their communicator every now and again, with the jerky motions of someone who doesn’t particularly want to but can’t make themself stop.

Then, suddenly, they look up at the sky. Wilbur follows their gaze to the flock of crows wheeling overhead, a dark mass of beating wings, each bird barely distinguishable from the others. All of them completely, eerily silent.

Eret stands there a moment. Just staring. Wilbur can’t tell what the look on their face is, but their shoulders are tense. And then, they look back down, and realize that the lot of them are there, stumbling in under the gate, and they visibly startle.

“Hey, Eret,” Puffy says, before they can get a word in. “Can we crash? And build some gates?”

“What,” Eret says. “What is—Puffy, what is going on? How did Dream manage to kill Sam and Technoblade? Is he—” They run a hand through their hair, and then start striding forward, their cape flaring out behind them. They haven’t said anything about him yet, haven’t reacted to his presence. “He’s out, isn’t he? I was going to come and see, but he’s out?”

“He’s out,” Puffy agrees. “We were kind of hoping you’d help us out on this one.”

“Of course,” they say quickly. “Of course, anything you—anything you need.” They’re rattled, clearly, more than Wilbur has ever seen them, perhaps. “I just—how did this happen? I thought the prison was secure, I thought—are you all okay?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Puffy says. “Yeah, we’re great. You haven’t been around much lately, I don’t know how much you know about the Egg and all of that, but that’s an issue too, along with Dream. And some other stuff that I’ve got no idea about, that we really just kind of need to all sit down and talk about.”

“The Egg? I’ve—I’ve heard of it, I think. I’ve been elsewhere for a while.” Their lips twist into a smile that isn’t quite a smile. “Doing a bit of soul-searching, you might say. Found more questions than answers, unfortunately. Alright. I can get you all whatever you need, you can absolutely stay here if that’s what you’d like, but what was that about gates?”

Right. This is taking too long.

Wilbur still feels a bit outside of his body as he steps forward, but that’s alright. He’s limping, but the pain is distant, and he can let his brain work on autopilot, let his mouth move on its own without regarding the consequences, without thinking too much about

(this is Eret and you know them and they betrayed you and you hurt them and now you’re back and here is a test here is a true test it shouldn’t matter how they react to you you shouldn’t care for their opinion but you do you know you do though you pretend you don’t pretend they’re nothing but a traitor to you but you are a traitor to yourself and you know that between the two of you you are the worse and here you both are and you only need one more and everyone will be back together again like the old days like the old days those good old days)

what happens next.

“Right, then,” he says, straightening his spine and stepping up to be visible just behind Puffy, to the side and a few feet back. Eret’s head whips toward him. “To summarize: the Egg is bad, Dream is also bad, they’re now working together, also with Bad, Techno is gone, we’re all in rough shape, a mind-controlling potentially demonic entity is likely to try to take over the server, and also, I’m here, despite my best efforts. Does that paint enough of a picture for you, or should I elaborate further?”

Eret stares at him. He stares back, doesn’t let himself fidget. He’s putting the general on display, and it has never felt more like a disguise, like yet another mask,

(and didn’t he tell Tommy he wasn’t going to do this anymore?)

but a familiar one, one that’s almost comfortable. He can force himself into the general’s shoes and worry about tactics and battles and numbers and strategy, and tuck the rest of himself away for when there’s time for it. Can think of this as just another alliance to be made, a debriefing to be held rather than

(Eret traitor friend ally enemy the place in your heart is curdled and sour and you do not know if you are capable of starting anew)

and his losses are statistics and cold facts rather than

(Techno’s eyes golden and glittering and then they go dim and pale red pale and staring the light in your brother’s eyes gone out and it is not the first time you have watched a brother die in front of you but Technoblade never dies is never supposed to die never to go to dust never and you cannot make sense of it cannot make sense of the world turned on its head)

“Wilbur?” Eret asks, after a very long moment, and he doesn’t understand why their voice breaks in the way that it does. “You’re—it’s you? Not Ghostbur?”

He spreads his arms, lifting an eyebrow.

“Do I look like Ghostbur to you?” he asks.

“No,” Eret answers right away. “No, that you do not. Um, has this been a thing, or…?” They trail off, and Wilbur can’t figure out exactly what their feelings are, but it’s too late to back down, even if he wanted to.

“For a bit,” he says. “Not for too long. Can we move on? We’ve got bigger issues to deal with at the moment.”

He means multiple things, with that. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than why I’m here. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than our history, and as so long as we’re on the same side for the moment, it can’t matter right now. He doesn’t know if Eret catches all of that, but whether they do or not, they nod, seeming to steady themself.

“Of course,” they say. “I—for the record, it is good to see you, Wilbur.” There is genuine relief in their voice, a tone that says they’re actually glad he’s here, more than glad, even, and he really doesn’t have time to unpack that at the moment. They need a plan, and fast, and they need some goddamn gates. And medical attention, probably. The cut on Puffy’s head looks nasty, and Phil’s wings are still dripping blood, and it’s difficult for Wilbur to look at them for too long,

(grief rises up guilt rises up crushing choking your father is grounded and it is your fault)

but it concerns him, how little Phil appears to care for their current state. So there’s that to handle, and it’s almost too much, almost. Almost too much for someone who has spent the majority of the time since he’s been brought back to life cringing away from meeting people, all the confidence he once displayed gone, shrinking, left in the void or in Pogtopia or on the podium from which he announced his own defeat, perhaps. But even still, he remembers how to be the general. He can hide in the general, present the general on the outside, be useful even while he thinks he might be on the verge of collapse, internally. He has been a general, and so he shall be again.

What comes first, then?

He pulls out his comm, scrolling through the messages. There are quite a few in the general chat from just after Sam’s death message, people from all over the server demanding to know what’s going on. His eyes drift over Techno’s, then, and he winces, but keeps reading. There are even more messages after that, capitalization usage increasing dramatically, and his eyes trace over familiar names, a pang in his heart. Niki. Fundy. Quackity. Several from Eret as well. Some from names he doesn’t recognize, like this Foolish person, and someone named Hannah.

But then, they all cut off. There have been none in the past half hour. Since they escaped from the Egg.

Out of curiosity, he taps out a few words: dream and egg have teamed, regrouping at eret’s. Upon hitting send, the screen goes fuzzy, giving him an error message he’s never seen before. So comms truly are down, then, and it’s probably just as well; Dream likely knows where they are, but if he doesn’t, there’s no reason to give him the information.

(and do these old allies old friends deserve to learn of your return from cold words on a screen do you not have the courage to face them yourself face your son your son you have not seen your son)

(the last time he spoke to Fundy, he disowned him. he doesn’t know if he still has a son)

(if he does not, he has no one to blame for himself, and perhaps that is why he is too cowardly to check)

“Right, then,” he says, looking back up. “Gates are the first priority. They might not do much against whatever the fuck that thing is, but it’s better than nothing. Eret, I assume you’d know the best way to go about it?”

Eret’s lips quirk into a slight smile, one that is, perhaps, slightly sardonic.

“It is my castle,” they agree. “The more hands I have, the quicker it will go, but I can get it done.”

“Anyone who’s not bleeding profusely, help them with that, then,” he says. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely—I assume you’ve got pots somewhere, Eret?” Eret nods, gesturing toward the inside. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely gets a pot. Once we’ve got that all covered, we’ll reconvene, come up with a plan for where to go from here. Everyone got that?”

He gets a few nods, and no one dissents, so he’ll take that as a yes. His gaze travels to the kids then, standing clumped together, and Tommy’s eyes are still shadowed, and Tubbo is shifting his weight between his feet, and Ranboo looks lost, awkward, and he wishes he didn’t have to ask anything more of them. But that’s not how wars work, and this has certainly turned into a war.

(child soldiers once again, and how history echoes)

“Tubbo, Ranboo, I want you on the gates as well,” he says, and tries to soften his tone at least a little bit, even if that’s all he can do. “And then afterward—Tubbo, I need you to go through with all of us exactly what you know about—what did you call them? Dreamons?”

Tubbo looks slightly miserable, but he nods. “Right,” he says. “I can try to ward the gates if you want. With, um, anti-demon stuff. I don’t know if it’ll work. I guess last time we didn’t manage to do much of anything at all.”

“Anti-what,” Eret says, but Wilbur shakes his head.

“We don’t have time for that. Tubbo will explain later. We—”

“The fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Tommy breaks in, crossing his arms. “You haven’t given me a job.” He glares, but it is so very obvious that it’s all a front, all a show, and Tommy’s expression dares him to challenge him, but Wilbur thinks that if he does, he just might break something in him. Tommy has always been so much more fragile than he presents himself as, so much more fragile than he likes to believe he is.

(despite it all, despite it all, he is only sixteen, only a child, a child grown old before his time but a child nonetheless, and now a child who watched his brother die for him, an estranged brother perhaps but still a brother, and Tommy has always cared so much and so deeply, no matter how much he pretends otherwise)

He hasn’t given Tommy a job, and he doesn’t really intend to, because Tommy, of all people, needs to sit the fuck down and rest for a moment. They all deserve a break, but in this moment, Tommy is the one who needs it most, and also the one least likely to accept as much.

If the general gives the order, Tommy will follow it, he knows that much,

(because he made his brother into a soldier he made his brother into a soldier and soldiers follow orders)

even if he’ll be angry at him for it, but Tommy angry with him is a sacrifice he’s willing to make. And perhaps directing his anger at him will help. Perhaps it would be better for Tommy to be angry with someone within reach rather than someone out of it.

(because Tommy is hurting, and the cause of that hurt is not here, and so perhaps if Wilbur offers himself he’ll feel better, will feel more in control, because Tommy needs control, because his abuser is out, is wandering free, and his abuser has killed their brother and told him that it is his fault)

But then, Phil breaks his silence.

“I’d like him to stick with me,” he says, with a smile that is obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to reach everything myself.” He makes a vague gesture toward his wings, still dripping blood, and there is so much of it already drying on his feathers, sticky, tacky, almost blending in with the darkness of the feathers

(but stark against the grey-white of exposed bone)

“Why the actual shit—” Tommy starts.

“Good idea, Phil,” he cuts him off. “Tommy, help him with the wings, would you?”

“Why do I have to—”

“You too, Wil,” Phil says, and his mood sours immediately. “You think I don’t see that leg? C’mon, Eret, show us to the pots.”

When faced with that, he has no choice but to agree, really.

(he wouldn’t have ignored it. he wouldn’t have. He knows better than to leave a wound untreated in wartime. Even if something whispers at him that he deserves the pain, even if the bite of it brings him closer to reality. But his better sense knows: pain is not the penance that is asked of him, not a recompense that will do anyone any good)

**********

They meet again half an hour later in Eret’s throne room. Half an hour later, and his leg is bandaged and tender and no longer an open wound, and Tommy is frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, and the state of Phil’s wings is still bothersome, because he didn’t let either of them touch them beyond what was necessary,

(and he recollects countless nights spent running his fingers through soft, silken feathers as his father told him how to preen them, told him that it was a sign of trust, an activity that only family, only flock is allowed, and now Phil will no longer let them near him, will no longer even take care of them himself and it makes him sick to his stomach to think of what has been lost)

but they are no longer bleeding, and that has to be what matters.

The throne room is not the best location for this, he thinks. It feels awkward. But it’s a room big enough to fit everyone, which is the point, big enough to fit Puffy, presence looming and forehead now bandaged, to fit Sapnap, fidgety as he is, like a caged, snarling animal, all restless energy. Big enough for Tubbo, for Tommy, for Ranboo, for Phil, for Eret and for himself, and big enough that there is an obvious gap at Phil’s right side where someone else should be standing.

Eret eyes her throne, glances at everyone else in the room, and then seats herself at its base. It’s a pithy gesture, meaningless, but Wilbur has more important things to do than to call her out on it, even though the existence of the throne itself grates against him.

“Let’s call this meeting to order, then,” he says, and Eret frowns. Perhaps she doesn’t like that he’s calling the shots in her own

(ill-gotten, dearly kept)

castle, but tough. He’s brought out the general for all of their sakes, so the general is what they’re all going to get.

(it’s a mask again and masks crack but he can keep it up for long enough he can he can they need a leader so he will lead he will lead them)

(you were so good at compartmentalizing, once, go good at shoving it all away in boxes in dark shadowy corners never to be opened to gather dust and cobwebs and faded recollections but the boxes cracked and the demon’s escaped and Pandora was too weak to stop them and it all ended in a bang and he cannot tell if hope remains but that isn’t the point because the box is opened and once opened it is not so easily closed and you are putting on a show a lie and lies come back around again they always do and you should know better than to pretend at strength you do not have you will lead them to ruin again ruin and gunpowder smoke and what gives you the right)

“Yeah, alright,” Puffy says. “Can we start by talking about—whatever that was? What were you talking about, dreamons? What’s a dreamon?”

“That sounds like a made up word,” Tommy mutters.

“I wish it were made up,” Tubbo says, and he winces when all eyes turn to him. But a moment later, he straightens, setting his shoulders squarely, holding his head up high. “I’ll tell you all what I know. Even if that turns out to be not as much as I thought.” He pauses, clearly struggling for words.

“Start from the beginning,” he suggests, and Tubbo nods at him gratefully.

“Okay, right, the beginning,” he says. “In the very beginning, me and Fundy were messing around, and we found some old books. We went through them for a laugh, and we learned about these things called dreamons.”

“Wait, that’s what they’re actually called?” Tommy interjects. “Like, properly?”

Tubbo shrugs. “It’s what the books said,” he says. “We weren’t about to argue over names. Even if it did seem like a weird coincidence. But yeah, that’s what they’re called.” His voice falls into an odd cadence here, recitative, like he’s telling a story, and Wilbur crosses his arms, gripping at his elbows. “They come from the darkness of the void, lurking around the edges of a server’s code. Once they get in, their only goal is to cause chaos and destruction. They corrupt everything they touch, and they can possess people and turn them into their puppets. They have unknowable powers, because they’re a sickness, a rot, like an infection in the code of the server itself. It’s really, really difficult to get rid of them, but it can be done if you have the right tools. Or—” He blinks, stuttering a bit, his voice landing more naturally. “We thought so, anyway.”

“What does this have to do with Dream?” Sapnap asks, stopping his pacing, looking to Tubbo with an expression in his eyes that hurts to look at, a bit, wobbly and desperate and pinched, like he already knows the answer but hopes that he’s wrong, hopes as much as he is able, even though he knows it will be fruitless.

Wilbur has put the pieces together. As best he can, anyway. And Sapnap’s not a stupid man. He can see where this is leading.

“Dream got possessed.” Tubbo sighs, gaze drifting toward the floor. “It was a whole thing. Honestly, we were surprised nobody else noticed. But we—we performed an exorcism. And it was really scary, to be honest. But it worked. We could see it leave, all oozy and black and gross, and Dream was better afterward! He was! So we thought we got it out.”

“But it tricked you?” he asks.

“I don’t understand how it could have,” Tubbo replies. “It’s not—it’s not like the kind of possession that you see in a TV show, where the demon can pretend to be the person or something like that. It’s obvious. It’s too—it’s too wrong to blend in, if that makes sense. It made his voice go all funny and deep, and the way it moved—” He shudders, and then continues, miserably, “The way it moved, there’s no way you could mistake something like that for a human. That’s why we were so sure it worked. Because afterward, he seemed back to normal.”

Something about this doesn’t make sense.

“Tubbo,” he says, wheels spinning in his mind, “when was this?”

Tubbo blinks. “Manberg days,” he says. “Um, that’s why we never told you about it, I suppose.”

He barely bats an eye at the reference. It doesn’t make sense. Because he has sensed that wrongness, as Tubbo puts it, has been sensing it from the moment he set foot in that prison cell for the first time. On some level, he knew that something was deeply wrong, even if a demonic presence was the last thing he would have guessed. But if the whole thing happened during—during that time, and the signs of possession were as obvious as Tubbo says, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? He had plenty of interactions with Dream during that time.

(unless his own shadows stretched long, stretched far enough to cover Dream’s, to cover the thing piloting him)

But no—his shadows were of his own making, not supernatural. If anything, his mindset should have made him more receptive to suspicious wrongness, not less. So what—

(Dream smiles, and you know what it’s like, to have something whispering in your head, he says, once you let something in, there’s no going back)

“Maybe the first bit was a fakeout,” Phil suggests, arms folded, head tilted. He’s perplexed, which is worrying; it’s rare to come across a being that Phil knows nothing about. “It made itself obvious to lure you in so it could slip under the radar. Faked leaving to put your guard down, maybe.”

It’s plausible. But somehow

(and Dream stands atop the Egg and he says, he says, I tried to fight at first, but it turns out it was right all along, and he says it he says it like it’s separate from him like there is not something else something other speaking from his mouth after all and he tried to fight it he tried to fight it and what does that mean)

“They’re the same,” he breathes, and doesn’t know what he means, not quite yet, “they’re the same, and the Egg controls people, and he was talking about fighting something, about giving in—”

He runs a hand through his hair. Shakes his head.

“Wil?” Phil asks.

“Oi, Wilbur,” Tommy says, almost at the same time. But he needs to—he needs to focus as the pieces click into place, faster than he can process, and he has a conclusion but not the words yet—

He holds up a hand.

“Tubbo,” he says, “you said it can corrupt things. What did you mean by that?”

“I dunno, really,” he says. “It talked about it in the books some, but it was all weird metaphorical language. Couldn’t really makes sense of it. We were more focused on the bits that told us how to get rid of them.”

(he says, you know what the void is like, and Tubbo says that they come from the void, and)

That’s alright. He’s not sure he needs a hard answer to that, because he thinks that if one were to describe the feeling of the corruption, it would be

(it is dark and it is peaceful and there is static at the edges eating away at what makes him himself eating at his soul at his sense of self and it is what he wants, to be nothing, and he does not imagine what it would feel like if it were not what he desired, if he tried to resist it, resist the void all-consuming, all-devouring, resist the void that takes all things into itself and is never satiated)

something familiar.

“Alright,” he says, and steeples his fingers together. “Let me paint a picture for you. Someone gets possessed. You exorcise the thing. But these things can corrupt, you say. So maybe you get rid of the thing itself. Maybe Dream’s pretty much back to normal. But maybe it leaves little bits of itself behind. Maybe he’s not possessed, but maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe it changed him regardless. Maybe it’s still changing him, even though it’s no longer there. Maybe a corruption took root, and there wasn’t any going back from it.” He tilts his head, closes his eyes. “Suppose that the Egg is the same type of thing. Something that forced its way through the cracks of the server, something that’s been smart about it, biding its time. The things that Dream was saying reminded me a lot of what the Egg was doing, you know? Manipulating people, making them into things they aren’t, or into their worst selves.”

He strings the words together as he goes. He’s not sure he’s getting his point across. He used to be so much better at this.

“Wait, so you’re saying you think he isn’t possessed?” Sapnap asks.

“I’m saying we don’t really know,” he answers. “Not unless we get it from him. But Tubbo’s the expert here, and if he says Dream’s not acting like he’s possessed, I believe him. But even if he’s not possessed outright, that doesn’t mean there’s no—influence, perhaps.” He keeps his eyes shut; the darkness on the back of his eyelids is a natural one, but he can almost pretend that it isn’t. That it is darker, deeper.

(void)

“He was right that I know what it’s like,” he says. “I’ve felt the Egg in my head. And I was in the void for—a long time. It felt like forever. I know what it feels like, and there’s some of it in him, I think. Him and the Egg both. They’re the same kind of wrong, the same kind of unbelonging. I’ve never been possessed by a demon before, but if it’s made up of void stuff, that’s the sort of thing that stays with you. Whispering.”

He opens his eyes. Everyone is staring at him, varying expressions of horror on their faces.

He goes back over his words. In retrospect, he can see how they probably came off sounding.

“Wil,” Phil says softly.

“I’m fine,” he says, not at all convincingly, he’s sure.

(once he starts thinking of the void of the peace and of the rest it’s hard to stop even though his desires are now tinged with red and he knows better than to listen but he cannot help himself)

“This is all speculation, anyway,” he continues. “Might not matter at all, in the end, what the particulars are. We just need a way to stop them. Can dreamons be killed, Tubbo?”

Tubbo takes a moment before replying. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Fundy might remember better. But I think the only thing in what we read was the exorcism.”

“Which doesn’t help us much if Dream’s not actually possessed,” Puffy says. “Unless it might work on the Egg? If the Egg’s a—a dreamon too?”

“Worth a shot if we can get to it again,” he says, “but I don’t like risking so much on a maybe.”

“The less we mess with forces beyond our understanding, the better,” Eret says suddenly. She frowns, pushing her sunglasses further up her face. “As I said earlier, I’ve been away a good bit recently, so I haven’t been tracking the Egg’s progress as much as perhaps I should have. But I did notice an increase in activity—well. It was shortly after we tried to resurrect you, Wilbur.” She inclines her head toward him. “I fear that in our efforts, we might have interfered with something we shouldn’t have interfered with. Weakened a barrier of some kind, between our existence and—something else.”

She speaks with a strange kind of gravity. But her words make an unfortunate kind of sense.

He doesn’t look at Phil.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tommy states. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m with Tommy on this one. What are you talking about?” Sapnap adds.

“We’re getting off track,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We’re going about this wrong. We don’t have enough information, and we don’t have enough power. Those are our problems. How do we solve them?”

“The obvious would be to get the word out,” Puffy says. “Comms are down, but we can go by word of mouth if we have to. Kinda risky, with the amount of vines on this server, but the nether portal’s right across the way. No vines in the nether, I think.”

“I have lots of old books myself,” Phil chimes in, eyes skyward. “Might be something in there to help that I’ve read and forgotten about. And I’ve got another source of info I’ve barely begun to go through. Old shit I found. It might be worth a shot.” He looks back down. “We need to go get Techno anyway.” He says the last in a tone that brooks no argument, and Wilbur doesn’t try, even if it’s perhaps not the most tactically sound option.

(he wants Techno back too, wants to lay eyes on him, hold his wrist in his hand and count his heartbeats, each one a reassurance, because he knows what it is for a brother to die and come back but that has never made it easier)

“It’s better than nothing,” he says. “Alright, I’ve got a plan, then. Some of us go to the tundra, get Technoblade, and go through whatever books Phil has. Some stay here and fortify the defenses as best we can using what Tubbo can remember that he thinks might work, and a couple of us go around through the nether and tell as many people as possible what’s going on. Gather allies, resources anything else we might need.”

It’s not much of a plan. But based on just how outclassed they are, just how little they know, just how much exhaustion shows in their faces, it might be the best plan they’re going to get for now. To throw themselves back into a battle so soon would be folly.

It never sits well with him to bank so much on a hope, though, a mere possibility that things will go their way.

(but certainties were ripped out from under him the moment Dream killed the unkillable, the moment he saw his brother  crumple to ash before his eyes)

“Great,” Puffy says, grimacing. “What could possibly go wrong with that?”

The silence that greets that statement serves perfectly well as a response.

He closes his eyes again. The darkness is no comfort.