#easter askbox event

[promptthebear]

Edmund Pevensie, Soulmate AU

Part two of this

CW: Some violence but nothing super graphic. Some swearing. Serious enemies to lovers vibes. Telmar!Reader, so some physical description to match that sorry.

Cair Paravel was a testament of shining marble, fine tapestries and golden fixtures. It was the envy of many a nearby kingdom, most of whom had tried and failed to imitate its beauty. The same, however, could not be said of the dungeons.

The moment the dank, frigid air rose from behind the barred door, Edmund realized just how appealing his empty bed suddenly was. Everyone swore this part of the castle was haunted and though Edmund personally didn’t believe in such foolishness, he very much understood how those sorts of rumours came to be. He tried to stand tall and play at being courageous and stoic as he walked alongside the young guard down the winding steps, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Before long, Edmund found himself jumping at every distant sound and balking at every shadow cast in the flickering torch light, even when in fact said shadows were none other than his own.

Despite the fact that his young guard had been so anxious among the fine tapestries and clean rushes of the upstairs halls, the young man seemed completely comfortable among the dripping walls and dirt floors that created the bowels of the castle. He strode beside Edmund with an easy confidence, his grip on the torch he carried not wavering once, even when a rat ran nearly beneath his boot and announced its arrival with a piercing squeak.

When he managed to recover some of his wits and find enough voice with which to speak, Edmund asked the guard about it, more than a little curious on how such a skittish man could remain so calm in a place that left greater men shaking. By way of response, the youth merely shrugged and said “Everything that could hurt a fellow down here is already locked up, and the rats never bothered me none. S’far worse out in the forests”

While Edmund could see the guard’s side of things, he personally would have much rather been out in the forest tonight. He’d been riding those trails since he was a boy, and in that time he’d communed with all manner of creatures, magic and mundane alike. However, in his many years, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite like you.

Opposite to the castle in every way, the dungeons were incredibly small by the usual standard. They consisted in their entirety of three cells, while the rest of the space was mostly used as a recreational area for the various guards to play cards and the like. Usually, any prisoners awaiting trial were spread evenly between the three cells to avoid overcrowding and the potential for fights and disease to spread. That was not the case tonight, however.

Someone had taken the liberty of placing every inmate into the leftmost cell, and despite still having some room to move about or even lie down, the people locked inside had all crammed themselves into the back corner like bees in a hive. Edmund nearly thought the first cell was empty, until he caught a glimpse of several wide, fearful pairs of eyes that gleamed back at him in the ruddy torchlight. When he approached the cell to have a closer look, he was met with an eerie silence rather than the usual sighs, shuffling and coughs that occurred when you had a small crowd of people together. While Narnia was not known for housing a particularly nasty sort of criminal, the bulk of which were pickpockets and street hustlers, they were also not the type to scare easy.

Whatever was making these people frightened was bad enough that the guards had felt the need to keep the middle cell completely empty. This provided around ten more feet of space between the leftmost cell and the right most cell. Edmund stared between the middle cell and the occupied one on the left, trying to puzzle out what was so awful it had everyone this nervous. Even the guards seemed tenser than usual. They played hands of wist in almost completely silence, and had barely given Edmund a glance since he’d arrived. Normally, every soldier within spitting distance would be tripping over themselves bowing and trying to greet him.

Half expecting to find a dragon or an ogre, Edmund took a deep breath and approached the last cell. His boots made a hollow, tapping sound on the floor as he walked, each one an echo alongside the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

When he reached the padlocked door he stopped, and peered between the bars into the gloom. He could barely make out what was inside, if there was anything to begin with. An oppressive sort of darkness clung to this corner of the dungeon like cobwebs, making it nearly impossible to see anything farther than arm’s length away.

The torch that hung on the wall between centre and left cell had long since gone out. It sat, cold and forgotten in its sconce as though nobody had been willing to risk coming any closer to light it. Though it had been many years since Edmund had feared the dark, the sight of the blackened torch wasn’t a comforting one either.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the surrounded darkness, he caught his first glimpse of you. Edmund was immediately struck by the fact that, for whatever reason, someone had gone through the trouble of binding you up like a Christmas turkey. A pair of steel manacles had been clamped around your wrists, with a matching set around your ankles and a chain that looped between both so that you couldn’t sit upright properly, or move much at all really. There was also a rope twisted around your body in such a way that it bound your arms firmly to your sides, and forced your own legs to rest parallel with the legs of the wooden stool beneath you.

This set up alone would have been enough to hold back a drunken Minotaur, let alone a mere slip of a girl. Whichever one of the guards had shut you up in here clearly thought immobilizing you completely wasn’t good enough. A gag of rough spun cloth had been shoved between your lips and tied so tightly about your face, that it was tugging the edges of your mouth back towards your ears.

A bubble began to expand in Edmund’s gut, something that turned icy cold and burning hot in waves and made him feel as though he was about to be sick on the dirt floor. Memories came to the forefront of his mind, as though he had slipped into a waking nightmare. He could feel a gag against his own mouth, ropes biting at his wrists and the faint sounds of a war camp in his ears. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he had to rest his head for a moment against the cool metal bars to steady himself.

In the dark, Edmund could just make out the faint outlines of your face. He couldn’t read your expression, but he could tell that you were watching him. For a moment, he thought he detected a bit of sympathy in your eyes, a softness he didn’t expect. Then, you blinked and tossed your head in a haughty sort of manner, as though you didn’t give a shit if Edmund dropped dead right then and there.

Whatever he had seen in your eyes was quickly replaced by a steely sort of rage that seemed much more appropriate, given the circumstances. Disgusted with the situation and with himself, Edmund took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to face the guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice echoing about the otherwise silent room in a kingly fashion “You have her tied up as though she were some sort of wild animal!”

The guards stared at him dumbly, as though tying up young women was not only an ordinary occurrence for them but an entirely acceptable thing to do. Edmund took another deep breath, and bit the inside of his cheek to force back the frustrated scream that wanted to push its way out. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, it was a day that ended in y after all, and on those days, the guards always acted as though they hadn’t been born with any sense. Thankfully, the Captain stepped forward before Edmund began tearing his hair out in fistfuls.

“She may as well be, your majesty” he said, tugging at his beard while he spoke “She’s done nothing but raise hell and cause trouble since we picked her up by the docks. Screamed like a banshee the whole way down, and then flew at us like a little wildcat the second we opened the caged wagon. She’s a biter too, look what she did to one of my lads.”

From the corner of his eye, Edmund saw a young man leave the card tables and quickly approach, though the Captain had not officially summoned anyone. The soldier could have been the twin of the other guard who’d escorted Edmund from upstairs, save for the thick white bandage in place where his left ear should have been. Already, a large, dark red blotch was forming against the white cotton, and it was all Edmund could do not to flinch in sympathy.

“G’on boy, show his Majesty what’s happened.”

The boy shuffled nervously back and forth for a moment, before reaching up to unwind the bandages. It was slow work, parts of the fabric had stuck together with dried blood and with each new layer shed, the young man seemed to grow weaker and more pallid. When there was nothing left but a coil of stained cotton on the floor, Edmund took a deep breath and forced himself to have a proper look at the wound. After only a few seconds, he had to look away again, his stomach churning.

“Bloody hell.” he muttered under his breath.

The Captain gave a stiff nod in response, before placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder to hold him steady. Any colour in the boy’s face had completely drained by this point, his skin was as white as the bandages had once been and there was a sheen of sweat upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the Captain supporting him, Edmund truly doubted he would’ve been able to stand at all.

“You asked me why I had the girl locked up, your Majesty. Well, there’s your answer. Mark or no mark, I will not stand idly by and let some Telmarine harlot rip decent Narnian citizens to pieces.”

The mention of the word “mark” made Edmund’s ears prick up, but he tried to feign an appropriately sombre countenance and turned his attention to the matter at hand. Before he gave you any more thought, he had a tetchy captain and a young soldier ending the night with one less ear than he started with to worry about.

“Captain, believe me when I say your concerns are taken with the utmost severity and I will do everything within my power as Kings Justice to make sure any Telmarines remain mindful of whose land they’re docking their ships on. As for this young man, he will be given all the proper recognition and honour…once he’s been seen to by my personal physicians.”

For a moment, it seemed as though some colour returned to the lad’s cheeks, though that also could have been the torchlight playing tricks. At the very least, he managed to give Edmund a wan smile and a soft “Thank you, your Majesty” before he slumped against the Captain’s side and fell silent.

“Captain, have two of your men rouse Lucy and Tumnus. By happy circumstance, they are both here in the castle tonight. If they have any misgivings about the matter, tell them they are being summoned at my personal behest.”

The Captain gave a stiff nod in Edmund’s direction, before turning his head and letting loose a sharp whistle from between his teeth. The sound was still echoing against the stone walls when two more guards appeared. Without a word, they each slung one of the wounded soldier’s arms over their shoulders and guided him towards the exit. The Captain followed suit, stopping briefly to give some hushed instructions to another guard nearest to the door before he disappeared up the stairs.

With their direct superior gone, Edmund felt the eyes of the remaining guards immediately fall on him. As much as he wanted to let his chest drop back and slump his shoulders to regain a little comfort, he knew he must keep standing with his back rigid and his head held high. In his heart, he may have been nothing more than Edmund, a man in much deeper and much more frightened than he cared to admit. In the eyes of everyone else, however, he was still the King and would be expected to handle the current situation as such.

Sighing, he turned to the guard standing watch by the leftmost cell and cleared his throat to get the young man’s attention. The guard jumped slightly at the noise, as though Edmund had just woken him from a half sleep. It seemed an odd place to try and nap, by Edmund’s standards, but he supposed one could sleep anywhere once you were used to it.

“Your majesty?”

The guard’s voice betrayed his age, and it was all Edmund could do to keep his eyebrows from shooting up towards his hairline. If he managed to get through this without ending up in the infirmary or worse, then he’d have to have a word with the Captain about the youthfulness of his recruits.

“The keys around your belt, young sir. Give them to me, if you please.”

Despite his few years, the guard knew well enough how to take orders. Without protest, he unclipped the ring of keys from his belt loop and handed them to Edmund. They were heavier than Edmund expected, and somehow the weight of the metal in his palm was strangely reassuring.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned once more to face the rightmost cell. There hadn’t been a sound from you this entire time, and Edmund wasn’t certain if this meant you were subdued or simply lying in wait to ambush the next person stupid enough to try and approach. He only hoped that, no matter what happened, he’d be able to greet the dawn with all his extremities still attached.

You hated this country. You hated its people, it’s stinking cobblestone streets covered in horseshit, its passionless music and the bland, disgusting mush it tried to pass off as food. Most of all, you hated its idiot King and the stupid way he was looking at you.

You’d made it clear, or so you thought, that the next Narnian fool who came near you did so at the risk of his own well-being. And yet, here sat the King, no more than a foot or so away from you, hunched over on a simple wood stool and studying you like you were some sort of oddity in a menagerie. You glared back, wanting nothing more than to wrench free of your bindings and claw at his eyes so the last thing he’d ever see was the rage on your face. But those thrice damned guards had tied you up so tight you scarce had room to breathe. Not only was this a country of fools, but cowards as well, it seemed.

“I’m going to take this gag off your mouth now, and then we’re going to have a little chat, you and I.”

His words were a command, but the way he said it implied a question, as though you would give him an answer even if you could. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes. Even those with absolute power were spineless here, issuing their commands as though they required permission for them to be followed. If such a man tried to rule in Telmar, they’d be knocked on their arse and trampled by someone more capable who’d take their place in the blink of an eye.

When the King reached to remove the gag, your eyes immediately locked on his hands. You watched them with a frevored sort of intensity, preparing to use all the agility dipping into pockets and running cup and ball scams had taught you in your years on the street. As soon as you felt the knot around the back of your head loosen, you struck.

Your teeth closed around the flesh of the King’s wrist, and you clamped down hard on his forearm so he could not wrench free without causing further damage. You were rewarded with a yelp, a loud clear sound that reminded you of a pup being kicked. The taste of blood, thick and coppery, filled your mouth but you held fast despite your stomach twisting in disgust. It was only when the King brought his fist down sharply on the crown of your head and made white stars dance across your vision that you finally released him.

He staggered backwards, clutching your gag to his wounded arm and staring at you with wide eyes that betrayed a different sort of wound inside him. You wanted to laugh, but the bile in your mouth turned any sort of noise into a half choked gurgle. Clearing your throat, you turned your head to the side and spat onto the stone floor. The King’s blood turned the grey flagstone a pretty shade of pink.

“You vicious little bitch”

Surprise, fresh and delightful, tingled down your spine. Now that was unexpected. When you betrayed the King’s trust, at the least you figured he’d draw back and sulk like the Narnian dog he was. Instead, he was paying you back with the same coin, striking at you with his words as you had struck him just now. Perhaps there was more lion in him than you thought.

“Why would you do that?”

The commanding tone he’d lacked earlier had finally appeared. Despite the fact that he was dishevelled, bleeding and standing as far away from you as he could in these cramped quarters, this young man was actually starting to resemble someone you could recognize as a King. The fact that you’d managed to goad him into such a state so quickly pleased you immensely, and you couldn’t help but grin widely back at him.

“Because I hate you” you replied, almost cheerfully.

“Yeah, I gathered as much” he shot back, royal courtesy completely forgotten “But I’m only trying to help.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for it, and you’re a stranger who’s touching me without my say while I’m in a vulnerable position. Anyone else would have done the same.”

What the King said next made your shit eating grin falter slightly in place. Narnians had always confused you, but it seemed this one was playing a different game entirely.

“You’re…you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your consent. Are you feeling alright? How’s your head? I’m sorry I struck you.”

You stared at him as though he had sprouted wings and a tail. You were the one who had bitten him, hard enough that he was bleeding through the strip of fabric he was clutching to his arm. He must be hurting terribly, and yet he was asking after your welfare, and apologizing no less.

“I’m…fine.” you said, flatly, keeping your eyes trained away from his face “I’ve…you didn’t hit me that hard.”

“The fact that I hit you at all is unforgivable. May I have a closer look? If you’re injured, you really should be seen to by someone.”

You nodded, forcing your expression into a stern mask so as not to betray your confusion. This sort of treatment was completely alien to you, in your world kindness was for those who didn't have to worry about having crusts of bread snatched from their open mouths. It was a luxury only afforded to royalty and their ilk, like spices and fresh fruit.

When the King came to approach you again, he did so with slow, measured steps. At first, you thought it was because he was trying to avoid jostling his arm around. But, as you watched his lithe frame move through the ring of golden light from the torch he’d brought in earlier, realization hit.

He was frightened. Of you.

Immediately, your heart shot into your throat and your stomach dropped into the bowels of the Earth. You swallowed, hard, and turned your face away, pretending as though you were fascinated by the flickering shadows on the far wall. They danced like living things, their movements smooth and natural, and a part of you wished you could somehow join them.

You wanted nothing more than to slip your bonds and melt away into the shadows, but it was the stone in your gut you wished to escape, not the chains about your wrists. On the Talmoren streets, feelings were another luxury that you had little use for. Guilt was as new to you as kindness, and right away you misliked the acrid taste it brought into your mouth. In your twenty five years on the Talmoren streets, you’d stolen, lied, and cheated all in the name of survival. Those sins weighed no more on your heart than a raindrop would on the ocean. You’d done far worse to better men, and yet this Narnian wretch who you’d known for maybe an hour or more had your mind twisting itself in knots. Why?

The sound of the stool scraping against the stone floor drew you from your thoughts. You watched as the King righted his stool from the floor, and set it down across from you, though closer than it had been. He sat upon it with a deep sigh, and began to wrap his wounded arm with the linen gag.

The closeness allowed you a better look at the injury, which had already started to mottle purple and red with bruises around the edge. It made for a stark contrast against the King’s creamy, pale skin. An angry red flower on a field of snow.

You’d seen many similar hurts in your lifetime, some which you’d caused while others had been inflicted on you. Almost always, they resulted in a scar, the phantom outline of teeth remaining long after the open sores had closed up.

“You’ll need an apothecary for that, and a potion of honey and turmeric.” you blurted suddenly.

The King looked up at you, not even bothering to hide his startled expression. Something about the way his brown eyes widened and his lips formed a sort of rosebud shape was oddly endearing.

“Turmeric? I’m afraid I’m not familiar.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. This was a country of idiots, after all.

“It’s a root, from a plant. Usually it’s sold in a powder, but fresh is best. Turmeric draws any illness from a wound, while the honey helps it stick and will keep your skin from scarring. I have a sachet of it in my bag, provided your guards haven’t taken it for themselves.”

The King nodded in response. If your jab at his guards upset him, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll make sure we retrieve that for you, and I may want to have you speak with Lucy about this herb and it’s uses. I’m sure she’ll find the information very helpful in treating that young man you attacked.”

“Who is Lucy?”

“One of my sisters, the younger one actually. I have two, you’d know them as the Queens. There’s also Susan, she’s older than both of us.”

You turned this information over in your mind, silently comparing it with the little Narnian history you knew. Prior to now, the only King here you’d known about was the one they called Peter. His face was familiar to you, simply because it was stamped on one side of the copper coins you’d stolen from drunken sailors in the dockside taverns. Nobody in Telmar had ever spoken about any other Narnian royalty, though a healthy hatred of Peter was as common as dirt.

“So…who does that make you?”

The young King seemed to find this funny, letting out a wry chuckle before he finished tying the knot in the bandage around his arm. He did so quite skilfully, you noticed, and you wondered how much practice he’d had patching up himself or his men on the battlefield. Most of the Telmarine emperors could not boast of such skills. Matters of the body and healing it were considered beneath them, and tasks of those nature were left exclusively to apothecaries and sorcerers. Perhaps less soldiers would die fighting if their leaders took the time to help them.

“I’m Edmund,” the King said, his voice oddly gentle “What’s your name?”

You told him, and he repeated it a couple times, as though he was trying to taste the sound of it on his tongue.

“It’s very pretty,” he said, finally “Now that we’ve been properly introduced, will you allow me to have a closer look at your face?”

You nodded, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d most likely say something vicious again. Of course he could have a look, it wasn’t as though you had a lot of choice in the matter being tied down as you were.

Edmund’s fingers were soft, softer than the hands of any man you’d ever known, though you could feel some callouses on spots where his sword hilt would chafe the skin. He probed your face cautiously, going across your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose with the practiced touch of someone who had done this many times before. For the most part, his expression remained neutral as he focused on the task at hand, but you did notice his eyes narrow slightly when he came across your split bottom lip.

If he had asked about it, you would’ve quickly implicated the guard you’d bit. Though he’d had a boyish and seemingly innocent face, he’d struck you hard enough to knock your teeth together when you’d spewed a string of curses at him during your arrest. The ones directed at his mother seemed to sting in particular, but he’d quickly lost his bravado after you’d torn his ear off when he tried to slap a pair of irons on you. It had taken three other grown men to subdue you, which was hardly a fair fight even if you’d fought like a hellion. Your chest still ached terribly from where they’d pinned you down by sitting on you, and you knew you’d sport a fresh crop of bruises in the morning

Eventually, Edmund moved his hands from your face and pushed them into the curls at your temples. He went slowly, not wanting to miss even the slightest bump or cut. After a short moment or two, he’d worked his way up to the crown of your head where he’d struck you earlier on. As his fingers brushed over a sore spot, you winced in spite of yourself, which made Edmund draw back as though he’d been burnt.

“I’m sorry. You’re certainly going to have a fair sized bump there tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too serious, but I’d like to have Lucy take a look anyway, just to be safe. I shouldn’t have struck you so hard.”

You shrugged, the chains about your arms clanking as you did.

“I bit you. I suppose we could call that even.”

Edmund smiled and something long dormant in your chest fluttered. You cast your gaze downwards, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t notice the burning in your cheeks. That was when your eyes alighted on something peeking out from the edge of Edmund’s collar.

“What is it?”

He may not have caught onto your blush, but he certainly didn’t miss where your eyes had gone. You really shouldn’t have been as surprised by this as you were. Narnians were known for their skills with swords, and the ability to be observant would have been part of that training.

“You have a…there’s something on your chest.”

Edmund blinked at you in surprise, and glanced down at himself.

“Oh. My mark. Here, let me show you.”

You watched with interest as his fingers opened the line of buttons down the front of his shirt. Each one revealed another inch of clean, white skin dusted with freckles and a healthy amount of fine, brown hair. You squirmed slightly in your seat, your cheeks feeling like an inferno.

At first, you’d thought what you’d spotted was a tattoo. Only now, that you could see it in full, unobstructed view and highlighted by the nearby torch did you realize you were wrong.

What decorated Edmund’s chest was by no means a tattoo. Rather than the black or brown ink you were used to seeing, the image was outlined in a shimmering gold. Though you had never took a needle to your own skin, you had a feeling even the most skilled of artists would not have been able to recreate such a rich colour. The way it sat on Edmund’s flesh was as natural as his freckles, as though he’d been born with it.

“And the purpose of this?”

Your voice echoed around the dungeon, which had somehow grown silent save for the sound of Edmund’s breathing and the faint crackle of the torches. From the look on Edmund’s face, you had a feeling you’d asked something incredibly unusual, which only served to confuse you further. Was this a Narnian custom? The longer you looked at the mark, the more it bothered you. There was something about it that tugged at your memory, like an itch you couldn’t quite reach.

“It’s my soul mark,” Edmund said slowly, as he began to button up his shirt again “Everyone has one. Even the centaurs and ogres and merfolk. You get one when you turn eighteen. Eventually, you’re meant to meet someone who has a mark identical to yours and that person is your soulmate.”

You shivered slightly, suddenly feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head. This wasn’t a story you knew, but it felt as though you had heard if before anyway, like the echoes of a dream after you’d just woken up.

Your birthday had never been a celebration back home, not truly, but you’d been luckier than most to know the actual day upon which it fell. Usually the most you’d ever done when it came around was vow to live long enough to see your next one, though around seven years ago, something very unexpected had happened.

“I…Edmund…I think I have-”

The sound of his name on your perfect, full lips made Edmund feel lightheaded. There was a slight accent to your Narnian, which caused your voice to lilt in a way that was almost melodic. He was so entranced that he nearly missed what you were saying.

“You have a mark?” Like mine?”

You nodded, solemnly and bit your lip before speaking.

“It just…appeared one day. Around my eighteenth birthday, like you said. No one else in Telmar had one and I could never figure out what made me so different. When nothing else came of it, I forgot about the whole thing.”

So the guards had been telling the truth. Edmund brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged the crease that had appeared between his brows. He’d long since become accustomed to the idea that he’d be alone for the rest of his days. To have that changed so suddenly, especially by someone as complicated and unpredictable as you, he didn’t know what to make of it.

“May I see it?”

Some part of his mind still thought that maybe, this could be a trick. He’d open your shirt and find that the guards had talked you into letting them draw a donkey or something even more obscene on your skin for a bit of coin. But if that was the case, why had you attacked them? It seemed like an awful lot of trouble for a bit of sport.

“If you’d like.”

Now, it was Edmund’s turn to blush. You’d given your consent, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little bit perverse as he reached to undo the top button of your collar. When you didn’t flinch away or try to bite him again, he continued, his hands shaking all the while. Your skin was warm beneath his touch, and softer than anything Edmund ever felt. Each opened button revealed another inch of smooth, bronze tinged flesh, along with a cream coloured shift and the tops of a pair of fair sized breasts.

The sight of those almost had Edmund running back upstairs to the safety of his room, when his eyes alighted on the tell tale golden lines just below your collarbone. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he reached out and gently tugged down the edge of your shift to get a closer look. He silently prayed that none of the guards took this moment to walk in, especially not the captain. He’d have a hell of a time finding a good reason to explain why he was practically peering down your shirt. It suddenly dawned on him why you may have given that young guard such a hard time, and any sympathy he’d had for the lad was pushed away by disgust.

“Aslan’s teeth.” he breathed

Sure enough, there it was. A lion, standing on its hind legs, mouth open in a snarl and a pair of crossed swords over its head. A perfect twin to Edmund’s, in size, colour, and location.

“Batshit and buggery,” he said again, parroting a favourite phrase of Peter’s.

You blinked at Edmund, trying to understand where this was coming from. He was staring at you as though every secret of the known universe had been writ there on your skin, and perhaps for him, it was.

“So, what does this mean?” you asked, hating how stupid you sounded.

“It means,” Edmund said, rising to his feet and reaching to tug at the knots that bound the ropes around your body “You and I are going to have a lot to talk about.”

[skyeslittlecorner]

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hell~

After all this time, maybe I should finally introduce myself. Skye here, an overworked college student who came here just to scream into space about sexy demons. Ah, and writer. In my free time I write fanfiction and other little things because I want to get rid of my shyness and learn to write in English a little bit. Brief proofreading, mostly I put whatever is in my mind on paper. Keyboard. Oh, you know. Despite everything, I try to write for you as best as I can. Except I can't, but I'm working on it.

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UPDATE (25.03.2024)

Ahem, as you see... the queue is quite long. I'm asking for patience in advance, but I promise that every request will be answered.

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[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS

cassian andor has a bad habit of losing the things he loves.

the tragedy before the tragedy. before scarif, before jyn erso and the death star, fate had something else planned for cassian. something fleeting and fiery, something he could tell himself over and over that he couldn’t have, that he didn’t need. but something he was given, something he lost…you.

full disclosure: this story is sad as hell. there is no happy ending (we’ve all seen rogue one, we know what happens to captain andor in the end). but I wanted to give him something in the interim, something to fuel his rebellious desire a little further, something to show why he built up his walls, what made him the way that he was by the end. but mostly, I wanted to give him hope.

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI (each chapter will have their own, but please start here before you dive into the story) DEATH, canon-typical violence and injuries, SPOILERS FOR BOTH THE ANDOR SERIES and ROGUE ONE (I highly suggest watching both before reading this if you haven’t already - there are lots of easter eggs and references!), mentions/depictions of blood, kidnapping, brief mentions of torture (no depictions), betrayal, mutual pining, smut, unprotected p-in-v, oral (f and m receiving), swearing, jealous!cassian, typical imperial behaviour (read: a bunch of assholes). reader dies in the end, the final chapter is rogue one from cassian’s perspective after the events of this fic. my askbox is always open if you want a heads up on anything else.

chapters + release dates under the cut!

summaries will be posted after chapters are released. chapters with smut are marked with *, chapters eight and nine contain explicit reader/character deaths.

chapter one: (take me back to) the night we met

cassian finds something familiar in the mud, and gets much more than he bargained for.

chapter two: how rare and beautiful it is (to even exist)

you and cassian pull a job for luthen, and something is starting to form between you and the rebel.

chapter three: just my soul responding (to the heavy heart I’m holding)*

things don’t go as planned on hosnian prime.

chapter four: takes one to know one (you’re a cowboy like me)*

cassian lets his emotions get the better of him.

chapter five: (we are all) living in a dream* - TBA

chapter six: there is a light (that never goes out)* - TBA

chapter seven: a sky full of stars (you light up the dark)* - TBA

chapter eight: (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye) you were bigger than the whole sky - TBA

chapter nine: I know the end (the end is near) - TBA

[keylovesstuff]

Hiii Everyone!!!

I've been around for years now and have never introduced myself. mainly cause I just choose to vibe and enjoy the posts people share, but first time for everything. You can just call me Key, I'm 24 and I go by she/her. I enjoy a variety of stuff from manwha, manga, anime, video game franchises, and just a bunch of other animated media you name its probably buried down in my blog somewhere. Every now and then I get motivation to create fanfiction. I have only written works the Dragonball and Super Mario fandom All my works are under the "Keep Reading". My DMs and askbox here is always open if you ever want to chat I apologize in advance if I come across as a bit awkward (socializing is not a strong suit of mine) or if it takes me a minute to reply (adulting and hobbies am I right?), otherwise I'm a pretty chill person. Thats about it!

One of these days I really want to change my Penname...But I've had it for years now and I'm way too attached to it lmao.

Super Mario Fics: So a lot of these are Princess Peach centric and I'm just crafting up an origin story and some other events following the 2023 film. The links take you to the tumblr post but I have included the AO3 and FFN (for reading preferences) links either in the original post itself or in the case of my earlier stuff in the reblogs.

Lost And Found

A Learning Opportunity (2 chapters on both AO3 and FFN. They are both on the same post here)

Thoughts Over Tea

Aftermath

Finding The Balance

Little Events (currently 3 chapters)

Chapter 1: The Dark

Chapter 2: A Decision

Chapter 3: The Coronation

Dragonball Fics: The first fandom I have ever written for (and by penname you could probably tell what I read mostly) I have only shared them on FFN and AO3 until now. I was just starting to write fanfiction with the first two so they might be kinda cringe I guess but that's 16 year old me for you haha. gonna embrace the cringe by sharing it on here anyways.

Tournament Day

The Prince Before The Day ( I am never gonna finish that one or go back to it lol)

Bulla's Easter Day

Even when I started making fics I'm still not sure what goes through my mind when it comes to the title or chapter titles its literally the first thing that comes to mind and nothing after that but we will get it one day for sure.

Here's Some WIPs (that's both written and not) you guys can look forward too from me. I'll remove them and add them under the appropriate fic tags once I post them:

Uncle Yamcha fic: It is currently three chapters. The first one is him and Trunks, second is Marron, and the third one is Bra/Bulla. I really want to think of one for him and Goten but nothing has come to my mind. I just think he's more close to Krillin and Bulma where he'd interact more with their kids and I can't think of a scenario for him and Goten or what they would even talk about but maybe something will come. (I've currently sent this off to my Beta for review but lemme know if you guys want to see the un-beta'd version I have on here cause I'm really forward to sharing it)

Untitled EOZ fic following after Goku leaves the Tournament grounds to train Uub. This one sits at about 8k words (not sure exactly cause I added a bunch of notes at the end for my beta to see where my thoughts were going with it all) anyways this one focuses mainly on Trunks, Goten, Marron, Pan, and Bra as really the older kids look forward to what may lie ahead. A lot of it is just me focusing on the dynamics they have with each other. When I saw that dlc for kakorat was going to be focused on that one that really makes me want to share this one. Again let me know if you want to see that.

Based on this Ask here you can already see that I've completed 2 out of my 5 ideas so that leaves the other ones and maybe more if I think of anything else. All of these will probably be added to my Little Events fic. a few little ideas not shared here but I've thought about and have some dialoge in mind but haven't fully created yet.

I want to do something where Mario and Haru interact I just think it'll be so neat.

Maybe something where I do my take on introducing Sarasland and Princess Daisy. Probably along the lines of Peach meeting Daisy for the first time.

I need to hop on the wholesome bros. content at some point and I know I wanna try my hand with Mia and Pio as a part of it.

I think thats it for now...I'll probably add more if I think of something as having somwhere to put it down no matter how small it is can be nice to look at and push me towards getting it done.

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Hello, how are you doing?

For the no excuses ask game:

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

Please and thank you 😊

(You thought you'd get some Tedromeda, didn't you @nena-96? Well surprise! Some wild Tedoire appears)

This is Teddy's POV from a bit of Bad Idea

Vic looked so stupid with that pink goop on her head and it absolutely stunk, but Teddy was a good friend and he diligently took a seat next to her as she chattered away about how she’d passed the first few weeks of her holidays.Her brother and sister were already driving her crazy, and she couldn’t wait for the annual trip to Paris. Apparently she had big plans to completely redo her wardrobe before school started again.

“Don’t you have enough clothes already?”

She hit him with a cool look that made her look exactly like her mother (not that Teddy would ever tell her that). “You can never have too many clothes, Edward.”

“You could definitely do without that green monstrosity you wore to Easter.”

He earned a punch on the arm for that comment, but couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

They didn’t get this so much during the school year, being in different houses and years meant they saw little more of each other than a passing wave in the corridors. And as the Weasley family had grown bigger, events like this with the whole family had grown rarer and rarer.

“Do you have any big plans for the holidays?”

He didn’t really. Most of his summer would be dedicated to earning enough money to finally buy the new camera he wanted. Teddy had taken one part time gig at the Flourish and Blotts and another at Weasley Wizard Wheezes, plus Harry and Ginny had promised to ask him first if they needed any babysitting done.  

“So you’re going to be a tremendous bore all summer long?”

“Only when I’m working.”

The timer for her hair went off, interrupting whatever clever retort Vic had come up with.

Teddy helped her rinse the colour off, and after an argument over the legality of drying her hair (which he absolutely refused to do. If she wanted to use magic illegally, she could do it herself), Vic was turning the way and that in front of the mirror, admiring her new candy floss pink hair.

And Teddy couldn’t look away.

He shook his head quickly to rid himself of the sudden flash of memory filled his mind of Vic pulling him in for a kiss at the World Cup.

She was stunning, somehow the shock of pink made her look more grown up than ever before. She glowed with joy.

And Teddy knew that he was so completely screwed.

no excuses writing meme, askbox version

[redeemingbaddies]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers.(ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Thank you @danpuff-ao3 ! I kept the answers all fandom related because, well, fandom makes me happy!

5. Rarepairs. I love hearing how people ship characters, the more mental gymnastics the better. I have two rarepairs in the hp fandom: Orion Black/Severus Snape and Tobias Snape/Albus Severus Potter. The mental gymnastics are real!

4. Fandom development of a minor character. One of mine: Tobias Snape went missing in 1975 and is a vampire now. You can not convince me otherwise. I love how Charlie Weasley is depicted in fandom too! I never gave him much thought until I started seeing him paired with Draco. It really opened up the character for me.

3. Fandom playlist. I am a music hunter and if a fanfic author says they listened to a particular song while writing a fic, I will listen to it. Don’t be afraid to put what you listen to for inspiration in the notes of your fic. Finding new music on AO3 is like an Easter egg to me!

2. Fest and other Fandom Events. I don’t have a lot of time myself, but I love seeing other people’s works in fandom events. I’m a rabid fandom consumer. Not participating much myself, but always enjoying the show.

1. Age gaps in fictional ships. I’m sorry, I know recently it’s become controversial, but I can’t really get hardcore into a pairing unless there is a significant age gap. In Hp I ship Snarry, in the Batman fandom I ship Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson. It’s the component I need to hyper fixate for *looks through my life* decades! Decades I’ve been into Snarry. Snarry is the ship I blame for this particular kink.

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions

I feel like it’s been A While since I did one of these, haha...

As always, along with the Coming Attractions, we’ll do an Open Question Night! My askbox is always open, but tonight I’ll be keeping at least a semi-active eye on it, answering questions. Any fandom I’ve posted about here or on AO3 is fair game; questions about writing in general; etc.

Also, my writing discord does exist! It’s a pretty quiet place, but it’s at least intended to be a slightly more interactive extension of this blog.

A fairly short update this month; I don’t have all that much to report, unfortunately...

Star Wars:

Big bang has been completed and posted at last! I don’t know that it’s my best work, but I am proud of how the fight scenes turned out, at least.

It was kind of like pulling teeth all season to get this one done, though. Hopefully next year will be easier! I don’t really have a solid plan, other than vague notions of doing a BSG crossover, since that’s where a lot of my brain is now, lol.

Protectors and Preludes updates are coming, I swear, it’s just been slow. Hoping the Obi-Wan show will kick my butt into gear, even though I’m well past that point in my timeline!

Castlevania:

I finally actually started posting Incinctus! It’s a fun piece, and while I do have at least one other plot thread floating in my mind for future writing, we’ll see how this one goes first. My plan is to update weekly, on Mondays. This plan will probably hold up until I run out of steam and pre-written material XD ((There’s a little bit of an Easter Egg in this week’s chapter that I found amusing; we’ll see if anyone actually picks up on it.))

Battlestar Galactica:

I have started my rewatch at last! I’ve powered through S1 (and put my notes, apart from the fic-related stuff, up on my personal tumblr if you’re curious XD); I may skip around after the Pegasus arc and get Razor in then. I’ve been note-taking both for my personal delight and for plot purposes for The Other Battlestar (which does need a better name...the only thing I’ve come up with so far, though, is a play on Bellerophon which I like even less, lol). The biggest plotholes I have so far are outing Doral and the tylium mine episode; I think I have a workaround for the mine, but I’m still playing with it. I’d forgotten how much Outright BSing was involved in flagging Doral as a Cylon...

((If y’all haven’t been following these, The Other Battlestar is an AU where Baltar ends up on Pegasus instead of Galactica; in order for the main fleet to be in roughly the same position when things reconnect after six months, I have two OCs filling in for his canon role. The politics stuff is easy, I just need to finish building the character in question. Some of the science stuff is...a little shakier, lol. I’m also having fun fleshing out a few additional Pegasus crew members to talk to, and considering where to line up Key Events for Maximum Impact, but that might change depending on how much of a concrete timeline Razor gives me.))

Anyway, I’ll probably start posting that this summer, once I have a decent amount of text prepped and also have figured out how I want to structure it (there’s miniseries stuff I do need to cover, but how much time do I want to spend on that; how do I balance between the Galactica and Pegasus threads, etc.)

Other Fandom Stuff:

I signed up for pod_together again! I had a lot of fun last year, and I’m hoping I get a good partner again this year! We’ll see how that goes--matches are sent out this weekend, I think.

Original Stuff:

Nothing really to report on this end other than I really do need to get back to actual Writing again...and also I keep buying miscellaneous Arthuriana things at library booksales but not actually sitting down to read them to plot out that one Arthuriana story I want to tell. And there’s a couple historical fiction pieces, one of which has been in the works for a solid fifteen years but I keep wandering away from the research for it, lol...

Anyway, Hopefully I’ll have a more “I Did Stuff!” update next month! But that’s about where things stand for me now.

What about you guys? What are you working on? And, again, Open Question Night--I’d love to hear from you! What’s on your mind?

[ao3feed-briennejaime]

Before I Break My Own Heart

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/sFC14nH

by Quietally

Part of my Tumblr Easter Askbox event for 2023. Fluff Prompt "Let's just kiss and see where it takes us"

Jamie suggests a rather scandalous party game, and Tyrion and the reader suddenly find themselves in over their heads.

Words: 2931, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Tyrion Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Oberyn Martell, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Bronn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Sansa Stark

Relationships: Tyrion Lannister/Reader, Tyrion Lannister/ Sansa Stark (Platonic), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: Angst Into Fluff, some dubcon but just kissing, set somewhere in the third book, idk it's a bonfire party they're all having fun, don't ask me about canon bc it's still shoved in the closet, angsty with a fluffy ending, also jamie is a dick

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/sFC14nH

[cesca-untoldstories]

hello im new in jojo fandom and im really catch up with your ocs can i ask for a brief summary of all thx you your art is really pretty

🌺✨First of all, thank you so much for sending this lovely ask! 🌺✨ welcome to the jojo-oc-stuff fandom! hope you really have a really good time in here! There are many great people in here who have very interesting stories and lovely OCs, so I invite you to read them and share your stories if you have!

‒A short summary of all my ocs I think I had never thought of a summary of everything but I can make the effort! any questions my askbox will always be open!

🌊Summary🌊

Under the canonical development of the Jojos plot, there is a southern Italian family with terrible karma. The Castiglier family is a family that has the power of the underworld and the Mediterranean Sea. The new coast is the mafia in charge of all arms and tobacco smuggling, although it is Salvatore Castiglier (the former boss of the mafia) who decides to expand these exchanges to other countries such as Japan for agronomic smuggling.

The story goes back to Francesca Castiglier (the daughter of the powerful mob boss) being found dead in a river in Egypt. But when she died, she had nothing, she herself has always suffered the overprotection of her unmarried father along with her two other brothers of hers (Domenico and Giancarlo). Her mother Fiorenza passed away shortly after giving birth to her youngest, Giancarlo, for unknown reasons which they attributed was advanced lung cancer. but it was simply a Stand of hers that was self-destructing little by little and that could only be seen by Francesca, who was born with a Stand in the same way.

In Egypt, 1 year before Stardust; Francesca with 14 years falls hypnotized by the bohemia of the city of Egypt. her curious personality was always under the shadow of her father who after Fiorenza's death never let them leave the house, classes and education inside the house in addition to considering a small easter egg; Risotto is Francesca's cousin born as Riccio Castiglier. and his story connects directly to Francesca's past as vague memories.

Francesca decides to escape and visit the bohemian of the city meeting DIO who offers to accompany her and show her the city but she ends up locked in a kind of human coliseum as food for vampires and pure reserves, since the blood of a child is the purest.

Francesca barely survived her 14 years in that coliseum, she was marked with a tattoo that proved that she was "a child who should die" for DIO but she managed to survive by luck and maturity at the time. She was taken to DIO's mansion with a couple of other children who were the ones who survived months inside that coliseum to be considered possible murderers with courage. But Francesca always wanted to flee from that mansion, and her plan to escape from it with a friend that she made in that place became effective when the children began to disappear and wake up dead in the corridors. When escaping from the mansion with her friend, DIO made his presence announce that only one would be free and the other locked up forever. Francesca tried to outwit him by taking her friend's hand and running towards the light. but only she managed to get out of it. From that day on she promised to rescue her partner again, making herself stronger.

then all the background that happens with Hol-horse and how he goes from a thought of "giving the girl back to DIO" to considering her as her own little sister and ends up making the determination to hand her over to the crusaders (with pain in his soul) to see that she had a better future with them than with him. an act of honor that ended in Francesca shattering in front of him.

After all the events of Stardust she ends up losing her arm to the same tattoo that she was and always was a Stand. Then comes the main problem, Joseph visits Salvatore to question him about his daughter, Salvatore ends up arguing with him and due to mental problems already acquired by that loss they end up fighting to the point of Joseph leaving that house and that murky place.

Salvatore ends up destroyed but Domenico, the middle son, is the one who understands that Francesca is not dead, but that this Joseph Joestar "kidnapped" her and until he takes over as the new mob boss he begins to plan how to ruin the joestars.

Meanwhile Joseph lies to Francesca announcing that his family died in a plane crash and formally and secretly asking Jotaro to keep the Castiglier family secret from Francesca, that she does not deserve to return to a family that does not see sunlight and does not she has one more future than becoming one more mobster.

She stays to live in Japan, complicated but adapting quickly. she ends up studying medicine at the university of tokyo and doing internships or assistantships in a city called morioh. where is when she meets again with Jotaro, her faithful rival haha

-

sorry if I omitted many things! but it is the smallest summary that I can deliver

> u <<3

thanks for being interested in my ocs !!

[bas-writes]

I thought about it. A lot.

Tried to motivate myself countless times. Take various types of requests. Take a lot of them to push myself to work.

Didn't work.

If we add to it a sudden tension which happened in fandom and weird gossips spreading around it... Every notification began to feel like a needle of anxiety. Not so long time ago I accidentally made few people sad because I was too tired to double check a post and sent one with paragraphs cut in half. It sent me in such a panic mode I almost got back into selfharm.

When today I posted my OC, I literally started crying because of nerves. Had to physically restrain myself to not delete this blog in moment of panic. This is not how it should look like.

This being said, I need a break. Week, maybe two.

And I need to take it easy on current list of requests. I'm still not sure what to do with old ones (2 or 3 scenarios, batch from Easter askbox opening). I was thinking of deleting them because I get too anxious looking at them... But dunno if it'd be fair. Please, tell me what do you think, delete them and start anew or leave them as they are and come back after hiatus?

Mini nsfw event and giveaway prizes definitely will be written, sooner or later. Same goes for the Summer Feast. Next 2 or 3 might be irregular but they will appear.

Matchups however... I simply can't. I was so thrilled to write them and most of people got their matches ready but... I'm too afraid to publish them. The thought I might have accidentally offend someone or make someone angry or trigger someone with a bad choice of character... I'm not sure if I'd made it if I found out I disappointed someone. And I don't want to put my mental health at risk since now I know it's too much for me.

I'm sorry. I know how thrilled you were about them. And I hate saying no nor let people know my weaknesses and fails... But if I continued being cocky and stubborn, I'd hurt myself.

This being said, I delete the matchup requsts. I understand if you will unfollow me, but I offer every person who wrote for a matchup a free pass to my askbox. Meaning - next time I will be opening for requests and announce opening time, within 72h since that time you are free to send your request in without worrying about grabbing yourself a place normal way.

I am so sorry once again for failing your expectations. I still have a lot of ideas and a lot of will to continue with this blog, especially since a lot of great and popular writers lately left or had to take huge break. I just need a solid rest.

Lots of hugs from your always friendly and doing her best Basilisa 😍

[promptthebear]

🐰 Edmund Pevensie #14 please

Edmund Pevensie x Reader- "Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Part 1/2 <- ***UP NOW!!!!***

Summary: Soulmate AU. Set during the "Golden Age", Edmund thinks he's doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. Until his fated match appears in the most unlikely of places. 2nd person, reader is written as "you"

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I've been go so long. Part two for this is literally being written right now and will hopefully be up very soon. I just thought I should give y'all SOMETHING to end the dry spell. Enjoy!

TW: None that I know of, but please message me if you need something tagged.

Rain was falling in sheets outside his study window, and the sound of the drops against the panes had soothed Edmund into a light doze. It was late, most likely past midnight, and his candles had burned down to almost stubs in their holders. He’d been reading for hours, lost in tomes of Narnian history and retrospects on ancient magic traditions. As fascinated as he’d been, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from growing heavy, and the blue velvet chair felt almost like a lover’s embrace.

Not that Edmund would have any idea what that actually felt like, though he could muster up a pretty good guess. Over the years, he’d watched his brothers and sisters find partners, wed, and have children of their own. Even little Lucy had been married last summer, leaving Edmund as the last bachelor among the family. That was one of the many reasons he’d been taking solace in his study over the last few weeks. He was plenty used to being alone, but there were only so many nights in a cold bed one could take before it started driving him a little mad.

Another man may have sought out comfort in the village pubs, but the idea of a hot, stuffy room and the press of drunken, sweaty bodies held about as much appeal to Edmund as driving straws under his fingernails. So, instead, he filled his waking hours in the company of books, often choosing to fall asleep among them than make the long, solitary walk back to his dark and empty chambers. This would be the third night in a row he’d spend here, and regardless of how Susan chided him that sleeping in his chair would ruin his back, Edmund also knew it wouldn’t be the last either.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door startled the young king from his near stupor. With a snort and a grumble, he rose from his chair, rubbing at his stiff muscles and silently cursing whoever chose to disturb him at this hour.

The hallway felt far too bright after the dim, golden light in the library, and for a moment after he opened the door, Edmund stood there, dazzled and blinking away stars from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the face of one of the city guards. The young man seemed nervous, shifting from side to side and not quite able to meet Edmund’s gaze. Aside from the familiar uniform, the young man was little more than a stranger to him, and Edmund wondered why the captain would have sent someone so young to speak with one of the high kings.

“Your majesty. I beg forgiveness at the disturbance, would this matter have waited until morning I assure you I would not be here now.”

His voice betrayed his age, confirming Edmund’s suspicions that he was a new recruit, barely older than sixteen and almost twelve years his junior.

“Speak your piece and be on your way,” he replied, running a hand over his face to try and clear away any drowsiness that still clung on “It is far too late for either of us to be away from our beds”

The guard jumped at the sound of Edmund’s voice, and did some sort of half nod, half bow that made him look like a fish jerking around in a net.

“Again, my most sincere apologies your majesty. Once more, if it were not for the urgency of the situation I would not have caused you upset. My captain insisted that you be spoken with directly and that this message reach no ears but your own. I tried to tell him you’d be abed by now but-”

“Out with it, lad. The longer you speak, the longer the hour grows and the more weary I become.”

The edge to his words almost made Edmund wince. He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with the boy, but Susan had been right. Spending nights in his chair had made him incredibly sore, and had kept him from having a decent rest for far too long. The combination of both was not providing him with an overabundance of courtesy.

“We caught a pick pocket, your majesty. In the market, earlier this evening.”

Edmund reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ease the throbbing that was starting to grow behind his eyes.

“Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Yes, Edmund acted as the King’s Justice and presided over all cases brought into court, even trifling ones like pick-pocketing. However, as far as he could tell, there was no reason something that simple would bring a guard to his door in the middle of the night.

“It is, your majesty”

“And? Have you all suddenly forgotten how to do your jobs? The thief can spend the night in lockup with your other petty criminals, and I’ll be there to preside over their trial in the morning. If that’s all you came to tell me, then I suggest you be on your way before I take it upon myself to serve you with a demerit and suspend you from service for the next week.”

The door was halfway closed when the young guard’s boot wedged itself between the door and the wall. Edmund stared down at it for a moment, trying to process the sheer gall of this otherwise seemingly placid young man. Nobody, in his recent memory, had ever kept him from closing a door when he wished. If he wasn’t contemplating sending this man to scrub out the barracks privvies for the rest of his natural life, he almost would’ve been impressed at his tenacity.

“Alright, that does it, I’m giving you until the count of three to get out of my sight and if you aren’t gone by two then so help me-”

“She has the mark, your Majesty”

It felt as though someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water upon Edmund’s head. For a moment he stood, still as a statue while his mind raced at frantic speeds to try and make sense of what he was hearing. The lad had to be joking, there simply was no other explanation. This was all part of an elaborate prank someone was pulling on him, like Peter maybe, and Edmund would walk all the way down to the dungeons only to find a sow or donkey painted with a mark that matched his own rather than the girl he’d been promised.

He opened his mouth to tell the young guard he was a liar, along with a few other choice phrases, only to find his voice had left him. What was the worst that could happen, if he followed this boy? Experience told Edmund that he could end up being the kingdom laughingstock the next morning, but what of it? Most of his subjects, noble and common alike, either ridiculed him behind closed doors or pitied him to his face, which was somehow worse. The Lonely King, they called him. A solitary man in a world where everyone was fated to find their perfect match at some point or another. Would a lifetime of isolation be truly worth avoiding a few moments of ridicule?

The carved animals in the wooden door stared blankly back at Edmund, and though the flickering candlelight made their faces seem to dance and move among the shadows, they had no more answers for him than the young King had for himself. With a sigh, he clasped the edge of the door and pulled it open. It creaked loudly, a sound made louder still by the otherwise hushed air in the sleeping castle. The young guard waiting beyond started at the noise, and took a step back towards the far wall as though he expected Edmund to leap out and bite him.

Now standing in the full light of the hall, Edmund saw in earnest how young the guard really was. He may have been a youth of sixteen, but he had the face of a twelve or eleven year old, making him look like a squire rather than the soldier he was. A light dusting of fuzz across the boy’s cheeks, a hint of a beard, was the only thing to suggest he was near manhood and it made Edmund feel all the more guilty for being so hard on him.

“Come on,” he said, clapping a friendly hand down on the guard’s soldier as he moved past him “Let’s get this over with.”

[curiousobjecthead]

Birds are singing, Flowers are blooming, Spring’s in the air ...                                       And you have two dozen eggs.

                              𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 !

Ever wondered what Splatoon would be like if we used eggs instead ? Ever hated a muse so much, you’d do anything to see them plagued by the whole dash with eggs ? Do you hate, just hate the Easter Bunny ? Well, looks like this is the perfect event for you !!

A small, crack-y, IC-ly event to liven up the dash, the EGGFEST 2020 is in town ! During this event, your muse will be given a carton of 24 eggs, plus a ‘special egg’, per day. The goal ? Throw all of them, hit the most targets, while also evading the most !

To participate, here are the rules: 

- write up your mun name and URL(s) on this google doc to show that you’re participating ► https://docs.google.com/document/d/1K8rXegmi1GhsnrfFOO1GDcdrDsTRd77fa0FWVovUnBk/edit?usp=sharing - [ optional ] join the eggfest 2020 discord server, at ► https://discord.gg/dNVfR2U - be sure to tag the posts regarding the event as #eggfest2020 ! do not use fancy tags, as it is going to heck up the admin’s research. - leave your askbox open. anons (unless sideblogs) will NOT count. for the duration of the event, non-mutuals asks should be tolerated, as you cannot refuse an egg that was sent. - each player will have 25 eggs PER DAY, 25 eggs they can send to other muses. - MULTIMUSES / MULTIPLE BLOGS will have to limit their number of participants to TWO. - with your box of 25 eggs, one of them will be a rotten one. this one egg counts as 3 points, both thrown and evaded. - if you receive an egg, throw a d20 (you must provide a screenshot). to note that if you’re caught cheating, you will be banned from any future event. adding some kind of bonus to your throws will be counted as cheating, too.    - 1 to 10 ► egg hits you.    - 11 to 20 ► egg evaded. ► if you evade an egg, you can decide to send one back. the original sender, then, will have to throw a d20. reblogs from the original ask should be tolerated for the event so things don’t get too confusing.    - don’t hesitate in making your answers quirky and over-the-top ! the more fun we all have, the merrier ! - make a post at the end of each day stating how many eggs you’ve thrown that landed on a target, how many you evaded, how many did hit you (rotten eggs & normal), and how many times did you sacrifice yourself, and tag these posts as #eggfestday1 (or 2, or 3, depending on the day).  do not use fancy tags, as it is going to heck up the admin’s research.

additional rules: - SACRIFICES are allowed. this means that if someone’s muse gets an egg, and is unable to evade it, another muse can comment under the post and try to save the original egged. This means that said muse will get the egg instead, and it is only available for the first person that comments. The sender still gets the point(s). Can only be done by other participants, of course. You cannot use your second muse to help your other muse.

At the end of the event, there will be two kinds of winners: the eggfest sovereign, having hit the most targets during the event, and the eggfest ninja, having, on the contrary, evaded the most egg. But also some ... Honorable mentions. What do you get, other than bragging rights for an entire year ? Well ... We may see what good this title will give you the very next year.

THE EVENT WILL LAST FROM THE 29TH OF MARCH TO THE 31TH OF MARCH, midnight, Central European Standard Time ( CET ). To note that CET is SIX HOURS AHEAD of CST, so take a look at the clock !

If you’re ready, grab your a little more than a dozen eggs, rush into the field, and kiss your eggs before throwin’ em ! May luck me on your side !

artwork made by user @slightly-gay-pogohammer / @gnzma / @mnstcrbnll / @missingstarter

[mwolf0epsilon]

I was asking what you think Henry's fate is. Is it a time loop? Is it just a reel playing? Is all of it just a dream on his or Joey Drew's death bed? But you pose an interesting question too, do all the games connect in some way even if BATDR is not gonna be a direct continuation?

I’ve pondered on the nature of the world of Bendy and the Ink Machine for a while now and, after a little bit of digging around, reading theories that people have had, watching theory videos and a few playthroughs, I’ve come to a few conclusions over Henry’s fate and the meaning behind the ambiguous ending we got.

This idea is, as such, a mixture of Game Theory’s Revised BATIM Ending Theory plus expectations for BATDR, SuperHorrorBro’s ideas for who BATDR’s Big Bad might actually be, as well as several other ideas that have consistently popped up through out the Fandom’s existence.

Buckle up, this might get long as heck.

---

     To start this off, I’m gonna need to clarify that the Cycle (which is the dimension the first game takes place in, although the origins of this particular world are still debatable as real or fiction within the canon itself) functions in a way that seems to rely heavily on ideas and impossible physics. Not only that, but those who exist within this plane will follow a mixture of Real World and Cartoon World laws, so while death exists in the Cycle it isn’t permanent and things that could usually obliterate you in one go (like massive falls, a hit with an axe, or getting bashed by an out of control fairground attraction) aren’t an instant threat to your overall health. It also appears that people within the Cycle aren’t immediatly aware that they’re following cartoon logic, as Henry (who is supposedly human) doesn’t seem to react all that much to some of the most life threatening moments he faces in the Studio. This in itself already shows something is off about the whole situation Bendy’s original creator has gotten himself mixed up with.

Another thing I need to point out is that the Toonification process doesn’t seem to be reliant of the Cycle itself, and instead happened in the Real World as the events in “Dreams Come True”, and Thomas Connor’s and Joey Drew’s Audio Log on the Ink Demon imply. This, to me, seems to point towards the Cycle having been made some point during Joey’s Toonification experiments as maybe somewhere to hide his twisted creations, so it might be the Ink Machine has the capacity to not only bring things to “life” but to also create other dimensions from templates. Where these dimensions are kept is up to debate, but I assume Joey keeps the Cycle withing the Ink Machine itself. Either way, what I mean to say with these two little notes is that, while Henry appears to be in a fake version of the Studio that doesn’t mean the story of the game is just that, a story. I think everything IS real. But more on that in a bit...

Lets get started with the actual questions you asked:

--Is it a time loop?-- 

Yes, positively. The Tool clarifies this as soon as we get it. In fact, the iteration of the loop we’re doing as Henry is the 415th, and the following we do with the Tool unlocked is the 416th, meaning Henry (and by extention the other Studio Prisoners) have been at this for quite some time even if we weren’t aware at first. To the point where Henry began trying to establish contact with himself.

--Is it just a reel playing?-- 

Also yes. The Cycle as I’ve pointed out before, operates on Cartoon Logic. As such it can be compared to an endlessly looping reel of unfinished film. This is made more apparent by the reel Henry uses to “beat” the Ink Demon. “The End” is something of a curiosity as it is a contradiction in of itself. Not so much a final dot to close off an act as an infinity mark. It’s existence within the Cyle is also curious, as it seems unlikely Joey would have physically made a reel to stop the Ink Demon, so it brings the question of whether or not Mr. Drew can alter the Cycle externally (something that’s already hinted at due to the storyboards you can find on his desk at Joey’s apartment).

This to me indicates the Cycle can be altered (which Henry does whenever he tries to communicate, and by Allison Angel discovering the messages), but that bigger changes need to be done from the Real World.

--Is all of it just a dream on Henry’s or Joey Drew's death bed?--

No, I don’t think it’s a dream or just a story Joey is telling a child. I think the happenings of the game are actually happening, but that perhaps “The End” is a series of blank reels Joey feeds into the Ink Machine and that get filled out by Henry’s actions, and that Joey then watches them and recounts the tales to who I can only assume might likely be Henry’s and Linda’s daughter (as Joey pointed out Henry settled down while he did not, and it’s never mentioned if he has siblings).

With these questions out of the way, here’s what I believe happened to Henry and the implications of the game’s ending where Joey’s “niece” requests another story... The fact of the matter is that Henry is dead.

Why do I believe this? It’s like Matpat pointed out in his Revised Theory video (I know, y’all gonna get on my case because “Game Theory is cringy ew”, but seriously have a look yourself instead of going off in my askbox). It all has to do with small details that seem insignificant or just asthetic choices, but that can actually have a lot more hold on the plot.

Two of these details are:

The 5 coffins at the Studio and letters in Joey’s appartment.

The newspaper clipping Joey keeps in the Ink Machine room at the appartment, which was specifically picked and curated to appear in the game despite the player never going into the room to see it up close.

There’s a number of characters you learn about in the game and (by extention) the novel, and quite a few are dead (Such as Buddy’s friends Jacob and Dot who were murdered by an insane Sammy), but surprisingly only 5 have physical coffins at the Studio ingame.

And what do I mean by physical coffins? Well, there’s a 6th unofficial one, that’s what... And where can we find it?

Henry’s cell in chapter 5. He drew it himself even.

This doesn’t confirm anything of course, it could just be that Henry is into dramatics, but then we get to the newspaper clipping that Joey picked out specifically and kept in a room only he likely enters:

“Local Artist Pushed Himself Too Hard, Found Dead at Desk”

And what did Joey say about Henry pushing him to do the right thing? That he should have pushed a little harder... Like somehow Henry is at fault for Joey’s bad choices. Like Henry deserves what comes next... It almost feels like someone dishing out a speech before an execution, justifying why they’re getting killed. It’s a scene that made me inexplicably nervous until I looked into things.

Why bring up the coffins and letters to prove this, you may ask? Well, another thing Matpat points out is that the people who have coffins are people who were put through the Ink Machine, dying in the process and returning as Ink Monstrosities/Imperfect Toons, while people who got a letter from Joey and that replied to him were never lured back to him.

Wally Franks, for example, is living in Florida so he couldn’t make it to New York to fall into Mr. Drew’s trap. Allison and Thomas Connors are also out of the way so they merely exchange formaleties through correspondance (which implies Joey “made up” with them at some point to try to lure them back and has kept the charade up for a while).

So anyway, people who have coffins in the Studio are not only confirmed dead but also became monsters.

Norman became the Projectionist

Grant likely became either the Piper, Fisher, or Striker

Bertrum became the monstrous Carnival Ride

Lacie likely became either the Piper, Fisher or Striker

Susie became the Imperfect Alice Angel

You’re likely asking about Allison Angel and Tom Boris now, to which I raise you another Matpat pointer from the video above: Allison Angel states that she and Tom would dissolve if they were in contact with pools of ink.

Why is this relevant? Well, it means their bodies are made entirely of ink unlike, for example, Norman who is the sculking Projectionist. Why Norman? Well, he wades through a pool of Ink in level 14 and doesn’t dissolve. Heck, he chases Henry through the pool of ink without any trouble whatsoever in catching up. Why is he different from Allison and Tom? Because he has a soul stabilizing his grotesquely altered body.

Creatures that were once human and were transformed don’t just dissolve into ink. Their bodies remain intact after death until they eventually return to the inky abyss (potentially from being ripped apart) or until they’re revived by a Bendy Statue (Like Sammy, as implied by a clever easter egg near the fountain with the respawning Swollen Searcher).

In fact, now that I think about it, out of all the hostile creatures you encounter, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Bertrum and the Butcher Gang are some of the more stable bodied creatures within the Cycle, requiring a lot more hits to die than Searchers and Lost Ones, although Susie does die from a single stab (though the blow itself WAS pretty devastating in itself).

After pondering on this little idea I realized that the presence of Allison Angel and Tom Boris were entirely fabricated at that point. One of many alterations created by Joey to guide Henry through the last leg of his journey towards “The End”, very likely modelled after the real Allison and Thomas who he viewed as hostile, thus portrayed them as initially aggressive towards Henry. I mean, after so many unsuccefful attempts to make creatures entirely of ink (like the Ink Demon), it’s not too farfetched to say Joey eventually got the hang of it. The Mini Ink machines do it flawlessly and even help Henry, so who’s to say Joey didn’t perfect it within the Cycle to create beings not quite as strong as the Ink Demon, but strong enough to kill corrupt humans?

Again why is any of this relevant to how I think Henry’s dead? Simple. People who replied to Joey lived. Henry didn’t reply, instead he was lured in.

      I believe that the Ink Machine’s disastrous results in the Real World made Joey realize that making a person into a Toon through passing them through the machine with a template wasn’t gonna cut it to fix the grand mess he’d made out of the Ink Demon. But, I also think he realized passing them through the Ink Machine while living was also the issue. The ink corrupted their souls, left them vulnerable to becoming Imperfect beings like Susie. Having them ingest the ink prior to going through was also not gonna cut it, as it’s connection to the Ink Demon gradually destroyed Sammy’s already frail sanity and changed him into an abomination (that had a pretty strong will for possibly three deaths before he finally lost himself completely and became a soulless Searcher). This left one final method to experiment with on the one person he thought responsible to clean his fuck-ups: Joey had to kill Henry prior to putting him through the machine.

     In “Dreams Come True”, Buddy reveals that upon becoming Boris, his body was discarded. A byproduct of his soul enfusing with the ink and rejecting his human flesh. It might be possible that Joey was quick enough in killing Henry in an inconspicuous manner and then putting his body through the machine that Henry’s soul was pulled into the Cycle flawlessly while his body was spat back out for Joey to later deal with (Putting him behind his work desk as if he’d simply died of exhaustion, neatly hiding his crime behind the “suffering of a tortured artist”). This would explain why Henry lacks a shadow or reflection. He’s a ghost. A ghost that’s slowly realizing how hopeless his situation is. What a great pal Joey Drew turned out to be...

     Moving on to the ending of the game itself, there’s some very dark implications that come with Henry being dead. For one, Joey Drew doesn’t have a family, yet he’s recounting Henry’s plight to a little girl who affectionately calls him “Uncle Joey”. We know Henry pursued a family over a busy career, so it’s heavily implied that during the 414 attempts of trying to find a way out of the Studio, Henry’s wife has been grieving him, going so far as to leave their daughter with Joey as she tries to provide for the both of them.

Joey being the pathological liar that he is, would likely graciously look afer his old friend’s daughter and maybe offer “emotional support” to a distraught Linda, cementing his innocense, all the while bragging to the child about what really happened to her father without her knowing. That is a pretty twisted theory and I honestly like the idea due to how horrific it is.

But where does BATDR come into play here?

Well, it’s been confirmed to not be a prequel nor a sequel. Matpat suggested it might either be an Alternate Universe or a Side Story. I believe the latter is more likely, thanks to SuperHorrorBro theorizing that the people behind Gent might be the Big Bad/cause of that particular game’s misfortunes. A Side Story about the Ink Machine being recreated and templates re-used to create a familiar yet brand new nightmare.

I believe BATIM and BATDR are a vicious cycle of madness happening at the same time. The same task repeated by people who expect different results. Only with Joey Drew it was an animation studio, with GENT it might be on a larger scale...But who knows?

There will be returning characters, so maybe BATDR will shed new light upon the Ink Machine and the Cycle’s true nature.

[burialsocietyrpg]

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

your character isn’t quite sure how the letter or the dark-feathered owl carrying it found its way to them  ––   but it did, and it was most curiously signed by a MR. CECIL NORRIS, ESQ. wasn’t that the man who’d disappeared over two weeks prior? the same man they had to prove they hadn’t harmed or kidnapped? it would be hard for anyone not to burn up with curiosity, so was it any surprise that the dinner party ended up with near flawless attendance? each guest marked off their assent to attend – to be fair, there was no option to decline. salmon or chicken. single or with accompaniment. yes. yes. yes. each card burned up in their hand with the last positive check mark, and their name was promptly added to the guest list, manifested in a decorative card of thick ivory parchment labelling each assigned seat at the dinner table, where they will remain until the end of the evening in question. anyone would be curious.  even those who remembered what curiosity did to the proverbial cat.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎. 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆?

your character has been invited to attend a dinner party at the NORRIS HOUSE on the evening of AUGUST 16th, 1950  –  a little over a fortnight after cecil norris’ official disappearance. it is a black tie event. 

everything is not as it seems. your character attends for whatever reason they have to justify such an action, but their supposed host  –  the missing man himself, is... nowhere to be found. something is wrong.. or, maybe, everything is wrong. there’s quite a bit of time until dinner, so some exploration wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

hidden within three of the rooms in the norris house are THREE EASTER EGGS. if your character begins a starter in a room containing an easter egg, a riddle will be sent to the askbox of the character blog. you have ONE ATTEMPT at solving it. failure to do so means they simply don’t find anything in the room. a successfully solved riddle, on the other hand, exposes A CLUE to the mystery of the evening, and will directly affect the latter half of the event. 

the first correctly solved riddle will be the only one to affect the event, and each riddle can only be solved ONCE, as once a character has done so aspects of the room may change and the EASTER EGG will be revealed. 

additionally, if your character has already solved a riddle, they CANNOT attempt to solve another – this way, other players have a fair shot at the game. however, we do encourage players to try and solve all the riddles, in order to reveal as many clues as possible. each solved riddle will result in an individual reward of 1,000G.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒

timestamps are optional settings and scenarios to help inspire a direction and/or context for your event threads! you are more than encouraged to let your character explore the house and its many rooms outside of the three timestamp locations  –  the possibilities are numerous, and are outlined on our locations page for this event here.

004 CRUSADERS THIRSTING NEAR JERUSALEM – charmed to accommodate the large number of guests, there is only one door for the guests that leads into the dining room — the other door inside leads to the kitchen. at the far end there is a series of windows, a door made of glass settled between, that show the rolling countryside outside of the house, displaying a beautiful, dying sun. sconces run the length of the walls and a large chandelier in the middle of the room illuminate the dining room. each plate has a card with a name, hope your character doesn’t mind rubbing elbows with their adversaries.

005 THE SOUL OF THE ROSE – the humidity rises slightly when your character enters the conservatory, as might be expected, and they find themselves surrounded by greenery of many different shades. the plants inside appear to be a combination of both local and exotic, arranged in a way that is both beautiful but strictly kept, everything in its proper place. it’s quiet here, and maybe they can spare a moment from trying to uncover the mystery to admire the flowers of the moly plant. then again, maybe there are answers hidden in which plants are present…. or maybe that’s a stretch? do they remember their herbology studies that well? does someone else?

006 THE SHEPHERD’S DREAM – the room is brightly lit thanks to a chandelier dripping with multicolored crystals, and speaks of lavish luxury that pushes past the point of comfort into excess. the seating is comprised of a series of overstuffed velvet couches and ottomans in various jewel tones, all surrounding a round and gleaming table, the surface of which reflects the fire crackling in  the room’s two fireplaces. on the mantle of one fireplace sits only an ancient-looking clock that ticks a few beats too fast and runs counter-clockwise. the mantle of the other, larger fireplace is graced by a glass decanter of floo powder, a wickedly curved dagger on an ornate stand, and a fabergé dragon’s egg that seems to glow from within. what are you doing here? how long will you stay? are you conversing with friend, or foe?

please remember to keep all event threads, regardless of timestamp or any other circumstances, to remain on the official in-character date of the evening of August 16th, 1950. the precise time of night is up to the players’ discretion, as long as it stays between the time range of 7PM–11:59PM.

please note ! as your characters are all wandering around a single household, privacy is hard to come by and anything that transpires within your threads may be heard by keenly listening ears... all threads and interactions occurring within the walls of the Norris House cannot be securely warded or privated. this event will begin at the time of posting –– SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19th, 3PM EDT/8PM BST, and will continue until SATURDAY, OCTOBER 3rd, 3PM EDT/8PM BST. please try not to start any new event threads after SEPTEMBER 30th, in order to ensure that you’ll be able to wrap up and complete any threads before the event’s end !

[gallusrostromegalus]

Why I Write Family Lore

I’m really, really, REALLY lucky.  I have a family that loves me, I’m pretty good at words, and for some inexplicable reason hordes of you want to hear all the weird stories that keep happening to us.  And I’m extremely lucky that I’ve made lots of good friends here, and met people who were willing to support me through what has, honestly, been a tough couple years for me.

The thing is, this is very much a journey of discovery for me too.

When I was 19, during my first semester away from home at college, I got sick.  Very sick.  I had a high fever, popping up to 103 at times, for at least two weeks. I was bedridden for close to a month. I lost 16 lbs at a time when I didn’t have 16lbs to lose.  I was “officially” diagnosed with Mono by an over worked school clinic nurse who shooed me out of the office without even a physical exam.  I don’t actually know what I had, but since then my memory has been. Terrible.  

Most of my childhood is a blur. I completely forgot that branches of my family tree existed. I didn’t actually recognize my own mother at the airport when I flew home for christmas. I still have trouble recalling events from 2008 through about 2013. Both my long-tern recall and my short-term memory have been effected.  I’ve been on and off medications, had my brain scanned, been to therapists and specialists and I’ve only seen minor improvements in the last decade.

Until This January.

On January 14th of 2018, I published The 1969 Easter Mass Incident, which turned out to be an amazing success. Not only in terms of notes and the tip jar, but in that the comments and my askbox were FULL of people telling me how much they enjoyed that story, how they read it to thier families, even people telling me it helped them through the death of a loved one.

And that was deeply moving, and so I decided I was going to actively start researching the old family stories.  And in doing so, not only has my depression really improved, so has my memory.  It also helped me stay close to my family while I was on the other side of the state, and support myself with your generous donations.

So here I am almost a year later, at almost 30,000 people who think I’m worth paying attention to, and with a wildly sucessful first month on Patreon, and I am actually For Real Publishing A Book, something I never thought I’d do.

More Importantly, I am able to remember more than I have in years, and no longer feel like I’m Not Real.

So Thank you, all of you who read or liked or reblogged or donated ot the tip jar or took the time to tell me that you enjoyed the story,

You guys gave me my life back, and for that I am eternally grateful.

[x-de-con-struct-ed-x--arch]

*stabs the desk with a knife* SO.

It’s Easter and this dumb fuck *points accusingly at a blurry but immaculately-framed photograph of Ironhide* isn’t doing shit to celebrate. This means that, as usual, it is up to me to get the job done around here.

*sits down and steeples their servos with a grin*

My name is Choke.

I am the little botanist bot from hell.

And I am either totally making your holiday or completely fucking ruining it.

*pulls out a picture of themselves dressed in a sexy bunny costume and props it next to the photo of Ironhide*

That’s right. I’m the Easter Bunny now. Hop hop, mother fuckers.

So here’s the deal: for the next week starting today, April 1st of 2018, I will be hiding Easter eggs around the big guy’s blog. *holds up their digits* Seven of them, to be exact. Three will be hidden amongst the many information pages Dearest Mun has deemed necessary - rules, universes, project: Carsus, et cetera - while three of them will be queued up in posts to give the lovely mobile followers a chance at finding them. The last one will probably be both hidden and queued, just to be fair. There will be one egg to find each day, and each day the hiding spot will change.

*leans back in their seat* Your job, of course, is to find these eggs, and bring them back to me. Whoever does so will receive a prize. Nothing terribly fancy I’m afraid, as my *ahem* benefactor is a broke-ass little bitch and is simply using this as a test run. But if this works, Dearest Mun more than loves the idea of actually sending people things, so perhaps next year...?

We’ll have to see if there’s even interest in this I suppose.

*leans forward once again* So. A couple guidelines and some extra information for when you find the eggs...

report to the big guy’s askbox immediately.

send an ask stating what color of egg you found and where you found it. I will get back to you as soon as possible, giving that the big guy doesn’t fucking get to it first.

first come, first serve. Only serve, I’m afraid. Whoever finds the egg of the day first gets the prize.

Again, prizes aren’t going to be too spectacular, but Dearest Mun thinks this could be fun, and that’s all they want - to have fun.

*stands* So let’s have some fucking fun, shall we?

for more information about this event and Choke, check out the tags Choke Does Easter 2k18 and feat. the little botanist bot from hell. Also, feel free to take a look at Choke's bio page!