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hannahssimblr · 1 month

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Epilogue (Final Part)

It’s hours later and we’re still talking. The DJ arrives around ten and cracks the speakers up to ear-ringing heights so we exit to the lobby and stand by the window as the snow falls and the lights from the ten foot Christmas tree twinkle on the glass.

“No, no, stop, I can’t take it anymore,” He shrieks in agony as he grabs my arm, “He said that when he was inside you?”

“Yes! I didn’t know what to say back, like, um, thanks pal?”

“‘You’re so Alpha’” He repeats, deadpan, but his shoulders betray him when they start wobbling again, “‘and I’m just a little-”

“Beta boy, yes. Oh Evie, you intimidate me so much, I’ve always wanted to fuck a girl who scared me.”

“I’m going to die because of this story,” He cries, “I refuse to believe that men like this exist, it’s just too much.”

“There was this other lad too,” I begin, “Not as bad, but he got a nosebleed halfway through and it was dripping all over my face for like fifteen minutes before either of us noticed.”

“No!”

“Yeah, God, I feel bad, I think he was on some blood thinning medication or something but like…” We fall about laughing again, laughing and laughing until I think I’ll start gagging. I remember thinking during that experience that there was only one other person in the world who would find it as hilarious as I did, and as we splutter and cackle now at my retelling I remember how it used to be like this all of the time with us. I think about the time we lost through staying out of touch as he wipes his eyes and stumbles to the side a little bit, from laughing or from drinking a little too much, I’m not sure.

“Women are not like that,” he says, “I’m sorry for you, but they’re not, even the crazy LA ones don’t put me in situations like that.” He steadies himself a little by bracing his arm on the wall, so close that I could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. “I just don’t get it, do you think they get nervous?”

“Nervous around me? I doubt it. Sure what’s there to be nervous of?”

“It’s a lot of pressure, you know, making love to a beautiful woman for the first time. There’s a lot on the line, the chances of humiliation are high, maybe, I don’t know, maybe that guy just blurted the first weird thing that came into his head-” He breaks off because a high pitched laugh has exploded out of him again, “But it’s a flex to say that you’re so hot that you give men nosebleeds.”

“Oh come on, you’re exaggerating.”

“No, for real. Don’t you remember how nervous you made me when we were young? I turned into a total idiot around you.”

“Hardly.”

“It’s true. You were like this stunning princess and I was just some guy.”

I scoff, “Some guy?”

“Yeah, and it’s nice to see that some things never change because you’re still so beautiful and I’m still just a random man off the street.”

“Hmm, c’mon, you’re just schmoozing me,” I say, “Is this the way you all sweet-talk each other in Los Angeles? That’s not going to work. Irish girls are too humble to accept that.”

“Have I made you self-conscious?”

“No, I’m just wondering if you’re actually trying to flirt with me now or if you’re just trying to make me feel better about the fact that I’m thirty and my body is slowly ageing and rotting away.”

“Don’t say that, you look better than ever.”

I narrow my eyes, “I’m so curious about your game.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, how you approach women, how you flirt with them now. What’s your technique? Is it intense flattery?”

He scoffs, “Oh, no, come on, I don’t have a technique, I don’t think about it like that.”

“No?”

“What do you think I am? Some kind of weirdo pick-up artist? No. I… I improvise, it depends on so much, like, where I am, who she is, what I feel like I’m hoping to get from the situation…”

“Okay okay, right. Well what if you were at an event with friends. Say, a wedding…”

He smirks at me.

“…and you see a woman standing on her own by the bar, and you know, she’s pretty mysterious in quite a sexy way, and you’re looking at her and thinking, hmm, yeah, maybe I’d like a piece of that-”

“You think that’s my inner monologue?” He interrupts, “That I think like that?”

“No, shh- shut up for a second, in this scenario you do. And you’re going to go over and talk to her, and you see the perfect opportunity to do it, and the lights from the dancefloor are shining in her hair, and oh, she looks so lonely over there, someone should go and keep her company…’

“I’d say hi, you’re very pretty, can I kiss you please?”

“Really?”

“Yeah t-”

He doesn’t finish because I have grabbed him by the lapels and pressed my lips against his. Maybe it’s for the joke, or because I’m slightly drunk, or maybe it’s to see if it still feels the way that it used to, I don’t know. I don’t really think about it, it’s just happening.

“Oh look, it worked!” I say as we pull away, and I don’t really have a chance to try and read his face to see what he thinks about it because he takes a step towards me and kisses me again, though differently to how I kissed him, gentler, slower, with my head cradled in his hands, which is inconvenient because he makes my insides start flip flopping around. I draw back laughing, “What are you at?”

“We’re kissing now,” he confirms, then frowns, “I think. Aren’t we kissing? Or is this a hallucination?”

“Jude…”

“Don’t you want us to be kissing?”

“Well it’s not that, it’s-”

“Ah, you think it’s dangerous to be kissing.”

“If you keep saying ‘kissing’ it’s going to lose all meaning.”

“What did we call it when we were teenagers? Shiftin’ right? Will you shift me, Evie?”

“Oh my God,” I hold my hand up to his face, “it is illegal for you to put on an accent and say that. I hate that you can still do that.”

“My Irish voice?” he says in his Irish voice.

“Please get that away from me!”

“Sorry about that,” he settles back into his American drawl, and I jerk with surprise as I feel the tips of his fingers graze my waist, “Also, I’m sorry that I kissed you, I thought we were, you know, doing that now.”

“It was a joke… And maybe just a little bit so that I could see if it still felt the same as it used to.”

His eyes tour my face, “Did it?”

“Did it for you?”

The corners of his mouth tick up, “I don’t know, it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed you, and honestly I didn’t get a decent sample, mind if I try it again?”

“Aha! I’ve figured out your game,” I declare, “You put on that silly act you’ve always put on, don’t you?”

He hooks his finger into the strap of my dress before it drops off my shoulder, “Hm? What act is that?”

“Your favourite one. ‘Oh, little old me? I’m so innocent, why I’ve never even held hands before, and I certainly haven’t fucked half of Dublin city. I don’t even know what sex is.’”

He gasps with delight and stares right into my face, “You’re still obsessed!” He cries, “and you haven’t stopped wondering about me!”

“About what, exactly?”

“My body count! After all these years it still tortures you. You’re so shallow…”

“Oh please, I couldn’t care less.”

“Evie,” He says mock-scoldingly, really drawing out the syllables, “I can’t believe it. I told you back then that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t have to tell you if I didn’t want to, but you’ve never let it go to this day. Wow. Wow.”

“I don’t even want to know,” I sniff, “It’s meaningless information to me now.”

“Well since you don’t care and it has no power over you anymore, maybe you finally ought to know…” He glances quickly around the empty lobby before his eyes slide back to mine and he whispers, “that you were the seventh.”

“The seventh?”

“Is that a good-surprise or bad-surprise?”

“Well I thought it’d be so many more.”

He shrugs, “No, I mean there was the first girl in the playground, then a girl who worked in the tennis club at the beach, a girl from my maths class at school, Michelle, someone from my university, Astrid, and then you-” He pauses, “Wait, there was another one. You were eighth. Seventh and a half.”

“And a half? Who did you forget? A centaur?”

He shakes his head, “There was an awkward foursome situation in Berlin once. It’s a long story, really stupid. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Well I’ve never been more curious.”

“I’m a source of a lot of interesting info.”

“Like your current body count?” I tease.

“Oh, now I’m ran-through.”

“Tell me more about your life.”

“We just don’t have the time tonight.”

“What, not now?” I protest, “Not in this perfectly perfect situation when we’re both a little drunk and potentially snowed in for days, when there’s nothing to do but talk to each other?”

“No, see you’ve changed the subject, you’ve got me messed up. I…” He laughs tipsily and sways a little bit closer to me, through accident or otherwise I’m not sure, “…I was thinking about how much I might like to kiss you for a little longer this time, just to see if you still give me that same crazy feeling that I used to get with you, and you distracted me.”

I act like it’s a burden to me and slump back against the wall, “Fine, go ahead.”

“Oh jeez, no need to beg me, you know it’s off putting to be so eager?”

“Please?”

He comes in close and pecks my lips gently and even that makes my knees start to wobble. “No, come on, give me a proper kiss, that’s the only way we’ll know.”

“Still so demanding,” He tilts my chin towards him and angles his mouth over mine while his hands skim up my back and hold my body flush to his. As he strokes his lips over mine I can’t help but curse inwardly because of course this is happening to me, of course it feels like everything I’ve been searching for in the years between then and now, everything I couldn’t find in other people. These are the kinds of kisses that ruined me for other men for years to follow, and he’s ruining me now.

He glides his tongue along my lower lip and builds this kiss to the kind of intensity that shouldn’t be displayed in a public lobby, but he doesn’t care so neither do I. He kisses me until I’m soft and formless in his arms, until I forget the years in between then and now, and then he finally slows it, brushing his lips against mine and then gently drawing away and I find myself following his mouth in search of more, “The same?” He murmurs with his forehead against mine, “Or terrible?”

His hand cradles the back of my head as I sigh and bury my face in his shoulder, “What are we going to do, Jude?”

“You’re going to have to try not to be awkward about it because we might be snowed in for several days.” He says, “If you’ve decided I’m crusty and repulsive, you’re going to have to hide it from me to spare my ego. Either that or I’ll camp out in my room out of humiliation and get my sister to bring my meals to me until I can get the earliest flight to LAX.”

I pause, “so you’re sharing with your sister?”

“Yeah we booked late, so a twin room was all they had left. And she snores like hell.”

“Well that’s a pity because I booked months ago, and got a huge room all to myself. A four poster bed and a big gorgeous bath.”

“Are you bringing that up to make me jealous or is that an invitation?”

I scoff, “an invitation to what, exactly?”

“Come up and fuck you in the bath or something, I don’t know. Why would you bring the bath into it?”

“That’d be fairly shameless of me, wouldn’t it, if that’s what I was alluding to.”

“Is that the kind of woman you’ve become? The kind that invites strange men into her bath?”

“God no, I’d never directly ask that, that’d be very slutty.”

He brushes his fingers gently along the side of my neck, which is unfair because he knows how much I like that, and as I feel that touch all the way down to my toes he gives me a sly little smile and draws back to look at me, “I don’t know, you’ve really talked up this bath and you’ve got me curious. Will you show it to me?”

“You’ve always been so cheeky, did you know that? You ask audacious things of people.”

“Me? Never. That’s just not me, you must be thinking of somebody else. Of one of your other ex-boyfriends.” He grins and saunters casually toward the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at me as he goes, “I actually just remembered that I spilled something on my suit.”

“Did you.”

“Mm, I’m a total mess, I might be drunker than I look. I think I better go and take it off.”

“Doesn’t suit you anyway. You were always better in shorts.”

He pauses for a moment and regards me with one raised eyebrow, a question, and I don’t care that I’m predictable to him, that he already knows I will push myself away from the wall and catch up to him, “Actually you have the right idea, my dress is uncomfortable. I want to change out of it, only I’m not sure I can manage the zip on my own.”

“Oh, I can help you with that,” he says, “Or at least I can try, you know, but fair warning I haven’t ever undressed a woman before.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I smile, as I wind my fingers through his.

THE END

Beginning // Prev

#lucky girl part 3 #it's over!!!#i mean it's been over on WP fro about 3 months but it's nice to have caught up here finally #and on my 30th birthday!#crazy timing tbh #thank you all again for reading along #this project really was so amazing and so special to me #tw: sex mention

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joyflameball · 4 months

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*Please* tell me what don't starve is about I wasn't even aware it had characters

OH GOOD I GET TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU. YOU WILL REGRET THIS

let me be clear upfront: i don't know everything. i'm just neurodivergent as fuck please correct me on any misinformation. And any DST fans in the tag right now, hi prepare to see me infodump about Don't Starve lore and I am so sorry this is so long

So lemme start at the very beginning. The year? 1901. The man? William Carter. Moving from Liverpool (becuase of course there's a british man named william in an indie game who does crimes against nature) to New York City. He's doing magician shows and he just he sucks so bad at it. No one visits his magic shows. He's in literal debt. He gets no wins. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone etc etc

Anyway in 1904 Willy Boy tries to go to Cali gets in a train accident and dies. WHOOPS the end

Okay that's a lie. He did not in fact die unfortunately (/j). However, he did get in a train crash and was pinned under a train car, but was saved in part by a strongman named Wolfgang, who really desperately wants to be the strongest he can be (he'd recently had an embarrassing failure at the circus).

But, well... I say "in part." For there's more to how Wolfgang saved him.

See, somewhere around this time, William had found a book. The Codex Umbra. This book was filled with secrets about a land known as The Constant. And more than that, it allowed William to use magic. Not the cheap magic tricks he'd been doing up to this point, the ones that'd given him nothing. Real, actual, tangible magic. Summoning shadows creatures from this mystical realm, ones that would linger for a moment before vanishing.

This was power. True, actual power. And to a man as rejected as William had been by the world, a man as desperate for fame, attention, power... well, who wouldn't be bitter? Spiteful? Who wouldn't be tempted by the allure of unfathomable knowledge?

Of unknowable, uncontrollable power?

What'd happened during the train accident was William had briefly imbued Wolfgang with strength from dark magic, allowing him to throw the train car off of him. William had fled with the Codex Umbra shortly afterwards, and was presumed dead. However, he wrote a letter to his brother, Jack Carter, basically saying "Hey, I'm alive, I found this weird book, I'll cya soon."

(Side note, Jack Carter has two daughters, Wendy and Abigail Carter. We'll revisit them soon.)

William continued deciphering the Codex Umbra, learning more shadow magic. And in San Francisco, he reentered showbiz, reinventing himself into someone new. A new act, and a new name. The Amazing Maxwell.

This time, his shows were appreciated. Adored. His magic acts were magnetic, and horrifying, and beautiful. After all that failure, he had finally managed to get something for himself.

(additional note: maxwell really likes referring to people as "pal." this will be important remember this)

Around this time, he put out an ad to hire a lady assistant for his magician shows, wanting someone with "a curious demeanor and a keen interest in the mysteries of the universe."

And he got her.

Let us snap our attention now to two sisters in the dreadful state of Ohio- Winona and Charlie. Winona was, to at least my knowledge, a fairly tough little girl who was always a bit boyish (take with a grain of salt i'm a bit silly). She loved tinkering from a young age, and she loved her little sister intensely- maybe too intensely.

There's a thing in the game I'll go into more later that shows Charlie's perspective on everything, and from it we can glean that Charlie felt like Winona was, to use a metaphor Charlie uses herself, putting Charlie into an unbreakable suit of armor so heavy she was unable to move. Overprotective to a suffocating degree.

We're not completely certain on that, but it's quite likely and incredibly interesting.

And Charlie... we know painfully little about her. Most likely she fit the description Maxwell wanted. She'd go camping with her sister. She may have been annoying, as a lotta little siblings are. She had a flair for the dramatic. There's a line implying she used to playfight with Winona. And Charlie loved roses.

Charlie was scared of the dark.

So Charlie became Maxwell's assistant. And they were more than coworkers, they were also good friends. They'd hang out and laugh together. Charlie at least may have had a crush on Maxwell, as in her letter to him she writes a heart after her name, and she always calls him "Maxy." Maxwell cared a lot about Charlie- I don't personally see it as romantic on his end, due to my epic aroace swag and belief in the importance of deep platonic bonds, but he did care for her, deeply. They had a sweet friendship, both caring about each other intensely.

But of course, it couldn't last. It never could.

It's 1906 and Maxwell's doing fantastic mentally. Just kidding he's losing his fucking mind

Maxwell was losing control. The Codex Umbra was driving him insane, little by little. He was losing control over the book, over the powers of the Constant. It was growing too powerful, too angry. He was taking too much from it, and it wanted something back. He started pulling away from Charlie, growing snippier with her. And fucking understandably, she was concerned.

One night, after she hadn't seen him in days, she visited his apartment to get his costume for their last performance. He wasn't there at the time. So she investigated, desperate for an answer as to why her friend was drawing away from her.

She discovered a secret room in Maxwell's apartment- the room in the image above. With all those scrawls. And... we think she discovered something else.

I personally think she discovered Them.

I'll explain Them later.

She was terrified, and fled the apartment. Maxwell later discovered she'd been there, and was clearly fucked up over it. Evidently, he didn't want Charlie to discover all this.

She left him a letter, basically begging him to communicate with her. Saying they could take a break after their final show, her older sister had a cabin they could go to if they wanted to get away. Charlie wanted answers, and she wanted them to take a break.

They never got that, though.

April 17th. 1906. The Amazing Maxwell had his final show.

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Maxwell's final act was meant to be pulling shadows out of the Codex Umbra. It was meant to be simple. A last trick before they take a break. Neither of them expected it to go this horribly wrong. I don't see how either of them could have. Especially not her.

Maxwell reached into the book. Something reached back. They reached back.

They tried to grab him, tried to drag him into the Codex Umbra. He fought back though, for a moment, clearly weakened by it. Charlie tried to help him, to ask if he was okay, not understanding what was going on, desperate to help, to know how she could help.

She couldn't.

Shadowy hands erupted from the book, grabbing them, pulling them in, and Charlie and Maxwell were gone.

Let's snap our focus away for a while. We're remaining in the real world for now. Don't worry, we'll come back to them.

In due time.

Let me introduce to you a hugely important player to the plot, Robert Wagstaff. Now he's frustrating, because we (or at least I) know very little about Robert Wagstaff. He was studying the Constant, he founded Voxola and created these radios that Maxwell later communicates through (i'll explain later), he bears a suspicious resemblance to Wilson, he may have met Maxwell at some point, and he may have intentionally sent himself to the Constant to investigate it. He's currently a hologram and may be SOMEWHERE. God knows where.

Anyway forget about him because it's time for MY FAVORITE NONBINARY ROBOT WITH REPRESSED TRAUMA AND EVIL PLANS

Meet WX-78, an automaton with a fairly vague backstory who I love so so dearly. They're evil. They're canonically nonbinary (Maxwell even refers to them as "Mx" which makes me very joyful). They lack empathy. They love bees. They love the moon. And somewhere in like the very early 20th century they became a robot and chose NONBINARY VIOLENCE

What exactly happened to WX is left vague, but here's what I believe happened. WX and Wagstaff were working on a consciousness transference experiment, which turned out to be successful. WX transferred their consciousness into a robotic body. Yaaaaaaay :D

Well hold your horses there, not "yay" yet. Because it turns out transferring your whole mind into a robotic body has negative side effects. Namely, the way WX sees themself has become... fractured. Sometimes they see themself as who they were before, their human self, but sometimes they see themself as what they are now, their robotic form. A comment under the short described it as their entire body being basically a phantom limb.

WX started wanting to create more automatons, possibly roboticize humanity, but without the heart (it's called an empathy module in canon but i'm calling it a heart because it's designed with a heart on it, and it hits harder if i call it that). The heart, where WX's memories as a human reside, where hypothetically their emotions are. Take that out, there's no pain related to once being one, right?

Wagstaff was completely against this. Consciousness transference for a single scientist is one thing, but this? To roboticize everyone in the world and take out their heart, their memories, their humanity? Absolutely not. It'd be too dangerous. Leaving humanity as cold intellectual machines would destroy everything, removing a beautiful piece of humankind. He and WX had a fight over this, and Wagstaff ended up burning all of WX's research and sending them into the Constant.

Somehow after that, WX's heart module was disconnected, and the memories were gone. They became a spectacular evil little gremlin of a thing and I love them so much

This whole explanation comes from this excellent comment under the short:

I usually resent these sorts of "explanation comments," since they try to intellectualize horror, but this one doesn't it centers it all on the EMOTIONS and also is correct

And by the way, the short where this is revealed is SO UNBELIEVABLY DISTRESSING TO WATCH (POSITIVE). See, Winona repairs the wiring to WX's heart module, causing WX to suddenly remember everything, having flashbacks to what all happened, and it's horrifying. WX flashing between who they were as a human and who they are now, the snippets of whatever happened, the vagueness, the BANGER MUSIC, it's all so hard to watch, and yet so hard to look away.

And at the end of it, after remembering Wagstaff sending them into the Constant, WX lets out this agonized wail and RIPS OUT THEIR FUCKING HEART, before they just SHATTER IT IN THEIR HANDS. They fucking HATED remembering what happened, hated it so much that they RIPPED THEIR HEART OUT AND BROKE IT so they could STOP FEELING. Whatever exactly happened HURT and they didn't want to FEEL.

And evidently, IT DIDN'T WORK. Wagstaff appears as an NPC later in Don't Starve Together, and every single quote WX has related to him is full of this raw, painful, intense rage. It's genuinely heartbreaking.

WX fucking DESPISES Wagstaff for what he did to them. For sending them to the Constant. And like- they say a LOT they have no emotions. But very clearly, THAT IS A LIE. IT'S FUCKED UP. IT'S HORRIFYING.

It's the opposite of so many robot emotion narratives- a robot who wants to feel real emotions, who wants to be human. But with WX, that is the last thing they want. They're illustrated to have at least had distaste for organic life before their roboticization, they don't want to be human. And very obviously, they don't want to feel real emotions. They don't want emotions.

They hate being human so much, they hate the connection to human pain so much, they hate their memories of being human so fucking much, that they rip out their FUCKING HEART and SHATTER IT just so they can shut off the painful emotions of their repressed memories. They don't want to be human, they want to be a cold unfeeling machine, but they clearly can't be that even though they're trying because despite everything there's a part of them that's clearly human and just- JUST WATCH THIS SHORT IT'S SO HORRIFIC

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GOD I LOVE EVIL NONBINARY AUTISTIC ROBOTS WITH REPRESSED TRAUMA

Aside from that horrorshow of a backstory WX is very silly. They love bees and the moon. They hate humanity and all organic life. They say shit like "NOW THE OUTSIDE MATCHES THE INSIDE. EVIL" and "[name] IS CAUSING NEEDLESS DESTRUCTION. GOOD." I love them so much I can't believe I just slept on how funny they are when I was a young lad hyperfixated on DST

Okay let's go down the list of characters. Remember I mentioned Jack Carter has two daughters, Wendy and Abigail? Let's focus on them.

Wendy was more cautious than Abby was, preferring to live in the world of books and fantasies. Meanwhile Abigail was an adventurer, loving to spend her days climbing rocks and jumping around. Despite their differences, the twins were inseparable. The best of friends, with a love so strong it could transcend death.

And it did.

We're not quite sure how it happened. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that somehow, one day, Abigail died. And this death absolutely shattered Wendy. She became morbidly depressed, obsessed with death and tragedy. She refused to move on from her sister, believing if she did, her memory would fade. (There's specifically a few lines that really fuck me up /pos but it may be triggering so i won't bring em up.)

Wendy turned to the occult to try and get Abigail back. To try and at least talk to her. She tried everything to communicate with her again, and nothing was working. And she was just about to throw in the towel, to give up, to accept that maybe she would never see her beloved sister again, to fall into complete, total despair, when...

A ragtime tune started playing, and a voice on the radio began to talk to her.

Meanwhile let's snap our attention to WILLOWWWWW WILLOWWWWWWWW MY GIRL MY BELOVED I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE"S INSANE AND I LOVE HER

Willow had a rather difficult life. Her parents either died or left when she was incredibly young, and she was left in a cruel orphanage with caregivers who hated and mistreated her. And understandably, this took a toll on her mental state, and this attracted shadow creatures.

What exactly shadow creatures are is unknown- they're what Maxwell was pulling out of the book and using for his magic tricks, and they appear in game when your sanity is low, so my personal hypothesis is that shadow creatures are drawn to misery, insanity, or in Wanda's case, Women's Wrongs. also misuse of magic

Anyway, when Willow was a little girl, shadow creatures fucking wanted to kill her, drawn to her declining mental state. Willow took comfort in her teddy bear Bernie, the only thing that seemed to drive the shadows away. But one night, after being nearly killed by one of those things, her caregivers, upset at her being awake in the middle of the night, confiscated Bernie and locked Willow in a closet.

And while she was trapped in there, shadow creatures approached again, with the intent to kill her. Willow was backed into a corner, about to die, with no defenses...

Except for a lighter.

That night, Willow burnt down the entire orphanage, managing to save herself, and left with just her lighter and her Bernie.

This moment defined every fibre of her being. From that day on, Willow became completely obsessed with fire. Flames became calming for her, letting her breathe and relax. She's burnt her life down to begin again more than once, like a phoenix with more collateral damage. Fire protects her from the monsters in the dark, lets her stay sane. And- there's this one line from her that implies she's embraced a type of nihilism.

"Why worry about the past or future? It'll all go up in flames eventually."

That quote's actually really interesting to me you could use this for a character arc about her learning to embrace one place/one group as home and her accepting that unfortunately the survivors are her found family and she loves them and- GOD I love her so much she's a menace

Alright, who's next? Ah yes, Wigfrid. This one's really tragic.

Wigfrid was an actress whose debut role was as a noble badass Valkyrie warrior, slaying monstrous beings, being a true hero. And she embodied the role, capturing the public, being launched to stardom with just that.

But after that? Nothing she did seemed to capture anyone like the Valkyrie had. Every performance she had after that fell flat. She was completely rejected by the public.

(this could be a maxwell parallel oh my god)

And so, she retreated into that role- the role of the Valkyrie. She fled into fantasies of being her, taking comfort in them. It consumed her life, her very being. Whoever she was before was destroyed, completely lost. She would give anything to be the Valkyrie Wigfrid again.

And one night, a shadowy figure told her she could get to be that role. Forever. Her name in the newspapers again. Everything she'd ever wanted.

"What do you say, pal?"

...A few weeks later, she was in the newspapers as the latest in a string of disappearances.

Who next? Ah yes- Webber. THIS ONE FUCKS ME UP.

So when Webber was a little lad, his father, a scientist, received a gift from Wagstaff, something for his experiments. And whatever it was, Webber's dad was incredibly fascinated with experimenting on it.

But as a result, he sorta started... neglecting Webber. Webber wanted his dad's attention, wanted his dad to spend time with him and play with him, but his dad just... wouldn't. He was completely absorbed in his work.

Over time, Webber became furious that his dad was ignoring him. He started acting out, trying to get his father's attention in any way he could.

And one night, Webber broke into his dad's workshop, again trying to act out for his dad's attention. And when there, he tipped over the glass case holding whatever his father was experimenting on, shattering it on the ground.

But as it turned out, this thing was a spider- a massive one too, one from the Constant. And it was radiating with dark energy from its experiments, and it lunged at Webber to eat him.

But he survived.

Instead of being devoured by the spider, Webber was fused to it. Its consciousness may be in there somewhere (#system), but Webber's definitely is. But he's been turned into a humanoid spider thing.

This is the most fucked part to me. When his dad saw him, he didn't recognize him as his son. Why would he? As far as he knew, the spider had mutated. So his dad fucking chased his own son out into the night, under the assumption that he was a monster.

In the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, Webber (who btw is like ten) broke down sobbing, promised he'd be a good kid, and desperately wanted something to fix it, no matter the price.

That was when the shadowy figure started talking to him.

ANYWAY TIME FOR WOMEN'S WRONGS WITH WANDA

Wanda is an INCREDIBLY interesting character to me. Her whole conflict is basically- do you ever think about the fact that everyone is going to die one day? That no matter what we do, the passage of time will storm on, and eventually everyone you know and everyone you love will just die? That even if you don't get killed in an accident or by medical problems or through society's neglect, your body will eventually fail and crumble away? That time will eventually claim you, as it claims everyone, and you can do nothing to prevent it? That everyone and everything is already running out of time?

Sorry for giving you that existential crisis! Because Wanda's CONSTANTLY going through that. She's been running from her future for god knows how long, creating timepieces to make herself younger and prevent herself from dying of old age, and doing. Legitimate time travel!! Good for her!!

However, this doesn't come without a price. See, we've learned from Maxwell that toying with dark magic will get the Shadow Creatures hunting your gay ass down. And with how much Wanda fucks with time, she is CONSTANTLY being hunted by shadow creatures that want to kill her and take her away, to the point that her death animation has her body be pulled into the ground by shadow hands.

And one day, she was cornered. One of her timepieces was broken, the others recharging, she couldn't get away. And so she made a split second decision, trying to on the fly repair it, and what did this result in?

SHE BROKE THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM AND WAS SUCKED IN TO THE CONSTANT

(and the music in her short at that moment gives me chills don't starve together's music is so banging)

Wanda is a rare case of someone being sucked into the Constant not through someone/something tricking her or dragging her in, but through her own actions. From what we know, only one other person has done that. And he did it intentionally. But Wanda did it by complete mistake.

And her mistake resulted in her past starting to "catch up to her." Thanks to her time fuckery, she now ages twelve years every single day, and has to constantly fuck with time and deage herself in order to stay alive. She's spent years most likely terrified of the idea of aging and dying, and now she's been cursed with aging at a horrifically fast rate. It's incredibly interesting. God I love her so much she can do anything she could commit war crimes and I'd support her. Wanda Did Nothing Wrong

WANDA ALSO HAPPENS TO BE REALLY REALLY HOT LIKE UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS

HNHGNHBHGHBGHHHH PLEASE GOD JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE I WOULD TREAT HER RIGHT

Anyway who's next to talk about? Ah yes IT'S WORTOX TIME

Note, I'm gonna kinda start going through these faster because I'm close to the image limit and wanna tell you everything

Wortox is actually FROM the Constant. He's basically a little imp man who was best friends with. uhm. Krampus. And they'd go around playing silly pranks together! However eventually, Wortox started to realize that. Hm. Krampus's pranks are actually kinda mean. Like genuinely malicious at times. And Wortox really didn't wanna be mean, didn't wanna hurt anyone. He just wants to be silly and goofy. The prank's no fun if it actually hurts someone. So he tried to put his foot down and stop Krampus, but ended up whoopsiedaisy taking his soul and fully becoming an imp. And now he eats souls and is still silly but has just. Guilt. So much guilt.

Next up: WURT! Wurt, too, is from the Constant, and SHE'S JUST A LITTLE BABYYYYYY. SHE'S ADORABLE. I LOVE HER. She's a little Merm (fishy creature from the constant) and is pretty small and scrappy, and she hates pigs, and is vegetarian, and loves the swamp, and loves candy, and loves fairy tales, and wants to be a Merm princess. I love her she's adorable my beloved little guye

And now, WORMWOOD! Wormwood is basically a piece of rock fell down from the moon and gave a bundle of plants and vines life and he's the cutest little plant ever. He's ADORABLE. I LOVE him.

That's everyone FROM the Constant. Now let's speedrun through those who aren't from the Constant!

WICKERBOTTOM: To be completely honest she doesn't interest me that much lol. She's basically a librarian with a lotta knowledge, including knowledge of the CONSTANT, which she REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE. Anyway Willow burned down her library at the request of the Nightmare King and Wickerbottom got pulled into the Constant. By the Nightmare King

WOLFGANG: Brought him up earlier- we're not sure how exactly he got into the Constant, but he's just. He is a himbo. The quintessential himbo. He's a silly man. He loves his friends so much. He has the brawn, but no brains. No thoughts. Head empty. Pure of heart, dumb of ass. I love him.

WARLY: ohhh boy more tragedy. Cw for this point: dementia. yeah. Warly's mom had dementia, and she didn't recognize him most days. So he'd play her favorite music and cook her favorite foods in hopes that she'd recognize him. And she did, occasionally. But only occasionally. And he was so desperate for her to just know him, to remember him, to get that spark of recognition in her eyes... And around that time, he started to hear the voice on the radio.

WALTER: BABYYYY HE'S JUST A BABY HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY AND HE HAS A DOGGY AND A SLINGSHOT AND IS ALLERGIC TO BEES AND DOESN'T CARE ABOUT FASHION AND I LOVE HIM SO SO MUCH

WOODIE: Woodie is an enigma. He's Canadian. He has a curse. He turns into a goose sometimes. He was forced to eat logs when he was 32. His beard might not be hair. He's canon objectum and is in a loving and healthy relationship with his axe Lucy. I love him.

here is him and lucy he goes with stanley and the bucket for number one objectum couples

If you're noticing a theme with the names: Congratulations! We've noticed it too. We have no fucking idea what it means either. Charlie's last name might start with W. Maxwell's name starts with M (upside down W) and his previous name was William. If you have a name that starts with W in the DST world you're completely fucked lmao

Anyway thatsss everyone! So I think we can move on and cover the plot! I mean, surely there's not someone I'm leaving out. Surely I have covered everyone. Surely I've talked about everyone. Surely we can move on and have full context. Surely this is not an overly long gag in order to make the inevitable person I'm leaving out's reveal hit harder.

Yyyyeah let's talk about Winona.

On April 17th, 1906, Winona's little sister Charlie vanished off the face of the planet, along with the man she was working with, the mysterious Maxwell. And Winona is three things: stubborn, determined, and willing to do anything for her family.

And so she searched for her. She refused to let Charlie's mysterious disappearance fade into obscurity, to let Charlie just vanish without a trace. She searched everywhere for her. She pulled on every thread. Tracked down every tiny clue. Questioned anyone who may have the smallest connection to the case.

For over ten years.

Finally, it started coming together. Everything was pointing to Voxola and its secretive, genius founder, Robert Wagstaff. If anyone would know anything about whatever had happened to her sister, it'd be him. So she started working there.

But not for long. Fairly soon after she did, an accident happened at the factory- a fire breaking out, and a malfunctioning portal. Wagstaff vanished that day, vanished into the Constant.

Winona refused to let him. She had searched for over a fuckin' decade for someone who could have a connection to Charlie's disappearance, and her biggest lead was right there, and she was not gonna let him just vanish like that. So armed with duct tape and her knowledge of engineering, she singlehandedly managed to repair the portal, turning it on, and-

...Whose face would appear but her beloved sister's?

Barely aged a day. Drenched in shadows. A rose in her curls.

She was disappearing into the portal, but Winona grabbed her hand, started trying to pull her back, trying to save her. She had been searching for over ten fucking years for her baby sister, and she wouldn't let her go now, refused to let her go.

But... Charlie was different. Horrifically different. And something took over her. Something with ink-black eyes and hair that moved like a shadowy flame. The monster of the night.

She pulled Winona into the Constant. The portal fell apart. Winona was presumed dead.

...

And now. I will answer a question you must've had for a while.

What the hell happened to Charlie and Maxwell?

In 1906, they were pulled into the Constant by the Codex Umbra. And Maxwell was placed on The Nightmare Throne, and given full power over the Constant. He became the Nightmare King, all-powerful ruler, chess master of the world.

Whether he wanted it or not.

Once he was sat on the Nightmare Throne, he was trapped. He couldn't get up, couldn't move from the throne, couldn't move to turn off the gramophone sitting so close to him.

He was simply sitting on the throne. Unable to be free. For eternity.

In his final speech in Adventure Mode, Maxwell says there was barely anything there when he arrived. "Just dust. And the void. And Them."

What exactly "Them" is is unknown. My personal theory, given a play telling the story from Charlie's perspective, is that "Them" is the power of the Constant. And Maxwell constantly using that power for himself angered Them. So They pulled him in, and imprisoned him on the throne. He took from Them. And in return, They now trap him.

From there, the throne- or maybe Them, or maybe the Constant itself- compelled Maxwell to pull more people into the Constant. Trap them, use them as playthings, force them to go through the wringer of everything the Constant had to offer, and eventually watch them break under its barrage of dangers and finally die.

That's what happened to everyone. How they got into the Constant. Maxwell's strategy was to communicate with someone in the real world, usually through a Voxola radio, and make a deal with them so they are dragged in. Usually they're at a low point in their life and desperate for a solution to their issues, and he gives them that.

(Interestingly, he does follow through with his promises. Just neglects to mention the whole getting-dragged-into-Constant part.)

And everyone he drags in serves their purpose, they all serve as fun playthings for a while, providing him some level of entertainment.

But he's not happy. How can he be? He's trapped in an eternal game that he cannot end. Bound by its rules that he can't bend or break. He's tried everything. Nothing has ever worked. He's trapped, for eternity. In his own words, "Even a King is bound to the board."

The Constant demands a ruler.

And he serves that role. He must drag more people into this world's trap, let it spiral in on itself forever and ever. He can't put the game to an end. He can't get off the Nightmare Throne. He can't even turn off the gramophone right next to him.

All Maxwell can do is sit on his throne, and observe whatever survivors remain, and listen to that little ragtime ditty. Forever, and ever, and ever.

And Charlie...

God. Charlie.

One heartbreaking thing about what happened to Charlie is that we still don't know exactly how it happened. With Maxwell, we can make a very strong guess- he was stuck on the Nightmare Throne, and became king of the Constant, and dragged people down with him from the real world.

But with Charlie... we know how her fate ended up. We know what she became after that. But we don't know how she went from the sweet young woman she was to... to that.

From how she tells it (in her biased view, but it's all we've got), after being dragged into the Constant, she was either grievously injured or straight-up died. But she was brought back by Them. Back to life, but not as herself.

There was something new inside her.

Now, the way canon has it, it's a split personality pop-culture-Jekyll-And-Hyde thing. However, that's fucking dumb and pretty ableist. So here, my explanation diverges from canon, because I feel it's better, and stronger writing-wise, and I am better than Klei. Here's how I personally see what happened to Charlie.

It was like a garden being taken over and destroyed by an invasive species. Like black ink seeping into a bright and colorful shirt, spreading outwards, hiding- no, destroying the colors underneath.

They gave Charlie immense power, but at a great cost. Something dark grew inside of Charlie, transforming her from the sweet young woman she'd been, into something... monstrous.

The way I see it, it wasn't a split personality thing. It was more like a virus, infecting every cell of the body and multiplying into infinity until there's nothing left. Slowly erasing who she was before, destroying her humanity and turning her into something else.

Something more.

More powerful than Charlie had ever been, than she could've ever dreamed.

In every dark shadow, Charlie is there. In every pitch-black cave, she watches you. When dusk falls, she begins to awaken. And when the moon has risen, when the stars are out, when you can barely see your own hands in the dark, she is there. Everpresent. Watching. Waiting for you to walk into her arms.

There are shadow monsters all around the Constant. But most of them can only hurt you when you've lost your mind. Charlie, though, Charlie is different. No matter how much of a grasp on yourself you have, no matter how much sanity you've held onto, she will still be able to kill you, if you're outside at night with no way to see her.

Charlie is the most powerful shadow monster of all. She is everywhere. She has been everywhere. She can be anywhere. After all, there is nowhere the dark will not eventually be. And where the dark is, she is.

Charlie is the night.

Charlie is the darkness.

Able to kill a human with a few swift blows. Unfathomably strong, unfathomably dangerous, unfathomably powerful. It's hard to believe her humanity has held on this long, considering her omnipresence. It's incredible that her mind hasn't collapsed yet.

Because her humanity has held on. The virus in her mind has consumed so much of her, yes. But she's held on. Her humanity is surviving.

However long that lasts.

You wanted to know what happened to Maxwell and Charlie.

This. This is what happened.

Maxwell was imprisoned on the Nightmare Throne. Charlie was turned into the Night Monster. Both gained unfathomable power.

And both are trapped by it.

AND NOW. AFTER ALL OF THAT. WE FINALLY GET TO THE ACTUAL PLOT OF THE FUCKING GAME.

The year? Somewhere in the 1920s. The man? Wilson Percival Higgsbury. Lover of puns. Hater of spiders. Has a skeleton under his floorboards for some reason (skeleton might be wx-78's old body). Guy with the weirdest hair ever. Wannabe scientist who's terrible at science. The very first shot we see him in he blows himself up

He's a complete dumbass and he has stupid hair and he makes dumb puns and he's pathetic and he's in his thirties and he knows how to do amputations (according to him). What more could one want in a man. He's insanely confident in himself and has this attitude where he can do anything, when really he's kinda in over his head. He's a bit of a fool and he's got a good heart and a cheerful spirit. Not to mention he's wearing a vest, which in the rule of fiction means he's trans according to me and me alone.

So he's sad about his experiments always going wrong and he also sits down on a chair that looks like a throne hope that's not foreshadowing anything. Anyway Wilson's just like "Oh Voxola radio I'm just feeling real low" and his Voxola radio is like "SAY PAL I CAN GIVE FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE" and Wilson's like "Oh shit for real???" This is exactly what happened don't fact check this

So Maxwell hijacks his Voxola radio to be like "Hey hey hey you wanna do science shit right. Well guess what I can give you knowledge if you think you're ready." Wilson, of course, jumps at the chance, and Maxwell instructs him to create a machine of sorts. And Wilson works tirelessly away at it for some time, including SLICING HIS WHOLE HAND OPEN TO GET ONE DROP OF BLOOD, BECAUSE HE'S SO UNBELIEVABLY DRAMATIC I LOVE HIM

Anyway, Wilson throws the switch, thunder crashes, Maxwell laughs evilly, and

OH NOW YOU'RE JUST SHOWING OFF ANIMATORS

(seriously the don't starve animation and artstyle is so charming i love it. i think the framerate of the characters' animation should be lower again and the sketchiness should be more visible tho it was so much more charming than ultra smooth in my opinion)

Anyways, Wilson gets dragged into the Constant and cements himself as the greatest isekai protagonist of them all. Somehow he keeps his fairly cheerful attitude even when going through The Horrors, which is so very silly of him. He makes dumbass puns. He calls evergreen trees "piney." He hates spiders. His one perk is growing a magnificent beard. I love him. So much. He's not the deepest character, but god DAMN if he isn't endearing and lovable and so very silly.

So that- ALL OF THAT- is the setup to Don't Starve. From there on out, the plot goeth thusly:

CHAPTER ZERO, SANDBOX MODE. Maxwell greets Wilson like "Say, pal, you don't look so good," and proceeds to fuck off to watch Wilson go through it. Wilson however is a stubborn bastard who refuses to die and will literally make meat effigies of himself to not do so.

...actually that's really interesting. Hey wait that's really interesting. HEY DST FANFIC WRITERS ARE YOU UTILIZING WILSON'S STUBBORNNESS TO NOT GET KILLED TO THE POINT WHERE HE BUILDS EFFIGIES OF HIMSELF TO REVIVE HIMSELF IN YOUR FANFICTIONS BECAUSE THAT'S REALLY INTERESTING. "BUT IT REFUSED" LOOKIN ASS

UHHHH ANYWAY. THAT'S A PRETTY INTERESTING INSIGHT INTO WILSON I JUST FIGURED OUT. GO USE IT WRITERS.

So eventually, Wilson finds the scattered pieces of a portal Maxwell has, and activates it, getting dragged into Adventure Mode. LET'S GOOOOO

CHAPTER ONE, A COLD RECEPTION. And I should note here- the chapters are not in order, the order can get shuffled around. I'm gonna present them all though because it's funny.

So Maxwell is like "Wow :/ you're a dumbass :/ you REALLY think you woulda learned your lesson about activating mysterious portals :/ Anyway the seasons will be changing very fast now good luck" which is prrobably a nightmare for the ecosystem but what ever Anyway Wilson's stubborn ass doesn't die.

CHAPTER TWO, KING OF WINTER. Maxwell sends Wilson into eternal winter because he's being annoying. However, Wilson's stubborn ass STILL REFUSES TO DIE. And thus he continues.

CHAPTER THREE, THE GAME IS AFOOT! Maxwell is like "Uhm. Pal. Buddy. Why are you still alive. Please stop going onwards" and tries to feed Wilson to hounds. Wilson's silly ass is not fed to the hounds though because he is too silly.

Now. In Chapter Three, there's a chance you may find a strange setpiece, where there are these clockwork statues, trapping a strange mime. Creatures and gentlemen, allow me introduce you to the FUNNIEST FUCKING CHARACTER in Don't Starve. Wes.

Now, where do we begin with Wes? Well, let us begin with his backstory. His whole life has been plagued by a hilarious string of bad luck. He's French. He has the worst luck. He would get pied in the face. When he bites into a crepe all the filling falls out. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone. He is a silly and sad clown mime man. And yet, he simply dedicates himself to making everyone happy.

Now, how would a silly little failure such as Wes get into the Constant? Hilariously, of course. You see, he was buying a crepe one day and gave half of it to a silly monkey guye when he saw a little girl drop her doll from a window and tried to return it to her with a balloon but the wind blew the balloon away and he chased it all throughout the town and saw it'd gotten stuck on a clothesline and managed to balance on the clothesline to get it but unfortunately the clothesline snapped and Wes fell down though he managed to grab the balloon and save a falling nest of eggs and was chased by crows while trying to get the girl's doll to her and he ran into an alleyway where he accidentally knocked someone else out of the way of getting dragged into the Constant and Maxwell accidentally getting Wes pissed him off SO MUCH that he put him in a special prison just for him and Waxwell's quote upon seeing the imprisoned Wes is "He displeased me."

I mean it when I say that Wes is one of the funniest characters in the entire game. In fact, you go through all the trouble of saving him from the prison, and when you do, he immediately DIES, and you unlock him as a character, and he has the WORST STATS IN THE GAME. His hunger drains hilariously fast. His attacks are laughably weak. His only special power is balloons that do nothing but cost him sanity. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone

okay anyway you free wes and go onwards

CHAPTER FOUR, ARCHIPELAGO. Maxwell is like "UM. BITCH. PAL. TURN BACK. OR I MAY HAVE TO MURDER YOU TO DEATH EVEN MORE." However Maxwell has clearly not realized that Wilson is so stubborn that he will BUILD MEAT EFFIGIES OF HIMSELF SO THAT HE'LL JUST REVIVE FROM THE DEAD. GOD THAT'S SUCH A FASCINATING INSIGHT INTO HIS CHARACTER MAN JUST REFUSES TO DIE

Anyway Wilson goes onwards. CHATER FIVE, TWO WORLDS. Maxwell's actually nice to Wilson for a sec like "Heyyy :) Say pal :) Friend :) My best friend Wilson Percival Higgsbury :) Let's make a deal :) Here :) I made you a lovely little island :) Special for you :) It's got food :) And pigs :) And gold :) And whatever you need :) You can settle down here :) Have a life :) Just PLEASE :)) you ANNOYING BITCH :)) can you GIMME A TRUCE :)) and PLEASE :))) STOP :))) GOING :))) ONWARDS :))) I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD :))) :)))"

Wilson does not stop going onwards

CHAPTER SIX. DARKNESS. Maxwell is PIIIIIIISSED, like "BITCH. YOU BITCH. YOU TINY PITIFUL INSIGNIFICANT BITCH. I AM GOD. PLEASE DIE." And so he sends Wilson into a world he will surely not survive- a world of eternal night. Surely, with Charlie all around, with Charlie being the literal night monster who I feel an immense sense of grief over, surely Wilson will not survive this. Surely Wilson will die of darkness. Surely.

But as I have been stressing, Wilson is stubborn. He refused to give up on his dream of doing science even when it was clear he was bad at it. He refused to sit back and let Maxwell win by staying in the world Max made for him. He is so stubborn he refuses to die, making effigies of himself so he can resurrect from death. Wilson is the most stubborn bastard you've ever fucking met.

If Wilson decides that he will make it through something, then by god, he will make it through.

And he does.

Epilogue: Checkmate.

After all his struggle, Wilson finally, finally gets to Maxwell, to the man who's tormented him this whole time.

Only to discover him. Trapped on the throne. The all-powerful king, and he is weak. Pitiful. Listening to a hellish ragtime melody that won't stop repeating, over, and over, and over.

You can turn off the gramophone. He thanks you, saying he's been listening to that song for an eternity.

Maxwell has this honestly excellent speech about what happened to him. How They changed him over time. How he's completely powerless, despite being in control of everything. He mentions how time moves differently in the Constant, which is a really nice touch- it's not specified how it moves differently, letting the soft magic of the Constant stay soft. We just know it moves differently. How so is left up to us.

Wilson takes pity on the Nightmare King, and unlocks the Nightmare Throne. And Maxwell stands up, stands for the first time in an eternity, pure happiness on his face, free of the Nightmare Throne, getting up for the first time in god knows how long-

...And he screams, his body rotting away into a skeleton, before he crumbles to dust.

After everything, he just fucking dies.

...The Constant demands a ruler. And well, it's got a lovely candidate right there.

Shadowy hands erupt from the ground, grabbing Wilson. Lightning strikes where the Nightmare Throne was, building a new one, and Wilson is dragged onto it as the gramophone resumes. The new Nightmare King of the Constant.

Ruler of everything, trapped forever, with no control, listening to that hellish song.

Honestly, watch this playthrough of Checkmate. It really captures how just amazing this end is. (amazing = horribly fucked)

youtube

There's something so utterly horrific about how Wilson is dragged onto the throne after watching Maxwell rot into a skeleton and turn to dust, only for the ragtime melody to resume.

This end is already horrifying to watch. But the music resuming, refusing to stop, is what turns it into a pure nightmare for me.

A melody of eternal torment, never to break. No matter what.

The cycle continues. More will be dragged into this trap, right? And Wilson has become trapped. He can't move. Can't turn off that stupid fucking gramophone.

Doomed to the same fate as Maxwell. To sit there for god knows how long, as They watch him, until someone else frees him and he dies, trapping them.

Right?

..................

SO TURNS OUT YOUR BODY ROTTING AWAY INTO A SKELETON AND TURNING TO DUST IS LESS DEADLY THAN ONE MAY HAVE THOUGHT, BECAUSE MAXWELL IS STILL ALIVE. SOMEHOW. APPARENTLY.

Anyway so Maxwell's alive. Falls out of the sky into the Constant, still got the Codex Umbra, but is no longer all powerful. He learns this upon getting ambushed by a gang of Creatures and realizes he is powerless, and immediately does the brave thing and runs away like a little baby

Anyway night is FALLING and Charlie will wake up soon. And Charlie fucking HAAAATES Maxwell. She HATES him. DESPISES him. And honestly? GIRL'S VALID. Maxwell turned her into The Shadow Creature, hating him is completely fair. And yeah Maxwell's got guilt over the fact that he did that to her. BUT LIKE. HE STILL DID DO THAT TO HER.

Anyways, Maxwell sees smoke in the distance. And where there be smoke, there be fire, which he needs if he is to Not Die. And so he makes his way over.

btw this part is told through a fantastic comic here it is

So he gets to the fire and OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE

BITCH JUST. DOES NOT DIE. MAN GOT OFF THE NIGHTMARE THRONE. SOMEHOW. STUBBORN FUCKING BASTARD. THIS GUY MADE MEAT EFFIGIES TO CHEAT DEATH, PERSISTED PAST SEVERAL HORRIBLE TRIALS TO TRY AND GET TO MAXWELL, GOT STUCK ON THE NIGHTMARE THRONE, AND IS STILL KICKING. KING SHIT. FRISK KINNIE. DETERMINATION SOUL. UNDERTALE

Anyway Maxwell is like hmmm maybe it is best to not approach the guy i tried to feed to hounds and tries to leave but the idiot steps on a branch because of course he does. Wilson assumes it is a Creature and grabs his axe to Kill, only to discover it is not a creature and is instead Maxwell. (who ig is a type of creature)

AND UPON DISCOVERING IT IS MAXWELL, HE ROLLS UP HIS SLEEVES AND STARTS TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM. WHICH IS HILARIOUS GOOD FOR HIM GO WHITE BOY GO KILL HIM

Anyway shadow hands put out Wilson's fire which freaks him out because of The Creature (charlie), so they run over and get the fire started up again. And unfortunately, the two must team up in order to not die. Look how thrilled they are about this arrangement

Anyway there's these panels that together are absolutely HILARIOUS of Maxwell and Wilson just sitting there glaring at the firepit over several time periods. I understand it's probably meant to show several days passing, however I find it funny to interpret it as "they just sat there glaring at the firepit not saying anything to each other for a whole day" because it's objectively hilarious.

Anyway Wilson offers Maxwell food since they're stuck together they should make sure neither of them die and he's like "Hey didn't you Die. You Died. Like turned to dust. In front of me. I saw it" AND MAXWELL'S PRETTY MUCH LIKE "death is a social construct. how did you get freed from the scary throne and how come i didn't think of it sooner"

And so Wilson explains. See, Wilson was freed from the Nightmare Throne, but he didn't manage to get off of the throne through his own sheer force of will (shockingly enough for this stubborn bitch).

He was freed by Charlie.

For her own reasons, she let Wilson out of the throne and let him free. But she also took all the powers he might have had as the Nightmare King, rendering him the ordinary survivor he was before he was trapped (though many people give him claws and/or blackened hands as a result of the nightmare throne which i find to be very cool and awesome). Charlie sent Wilson back to the Constant and Definitely Nothing Happened With Her And The Throne Afterwards Please Believe Me I Would Never Lie About Anything

So a little bit later, Wilson and Maxwell start trying to build a portal, most likely to actually get out of the Constant, since GOOD FUCKING LORD. That, or to connect to the other survivors in the Constant, which also makes sense! Pooling together the knowledge from the Codex Umbra and Wilson's own blueprints, they manage to build said portal.

The survivors manage to get to them.

Before the portal is destroyed and reshaped.

Shadow hands erupt out of the ground, pulling pieces of it into the ground, black thorny vines wrap around it, the wood is replaced with marble, shadowy flames erupt out of it, red curtains on top, making it resemble a stage.

And all around it grow roses.

The Florid Pastern is created, and above all of them, they see a strange apparition in the sky.

The Constant demands a ruler.

And Charlie, absorbing Wilson's power as the Nightmare King, became that. The monstrous part of her, the part that is cruel and dark, the shadow monster of the night that demands to be fed with hot blood and flesh, fused itself with whatever scraps of her humanity and kindness that'd not been fully consumed.

She became the virus in her mind, fused with it, merged into a whole being, rather than a fractured one.

The Shadow Queen of the Constant.

also here's an exhausted looking Wilson good lord when was the last time he SLEPT

ALSO. BEFORE I FINISH OFF. LET ME TALK ABOUT CHARLIE'S SILLY PLAY.

In Don't Starve Together, you can find a stage, with costumes for you to act in. If you put on the right costumes and choose to start acting, shadow hands briefly control you, and you start acting out a story that is pretty obviously a thinly veiled allegory for the events of Don't Starve.

Charlie is cast in the role of the Doll, and later The Queen. Winona is in the role of the Blacksmith. Maxwell is cast in the role of the King. We THINK that Them is cast in the role of the Mirror. And Wilson- I'LL GET TO WILSON.

What's interesting about this play is how obviously biased it is. The King is cast as an obviously evil man, hoarding magic to himself, shattering the Mirror and taking its power away. I mentioned this earlier- the Blacksmith loves the Doll dearly, but loves her too much, and puts her in a suit of armor that is protective, yes, but is so heavy she can't move, which god damn if that's not an effective metaphor for overcontrolling overprotective siblings.

The insight into Charlie's motives is also interesting- it's shown that the reason she didn't take Maxwell off the throne (aside from maybe spite and wanting to see him hurt which good for her) was because she legitimately didn't know where he was. And she sorta followed Wilson as he traveled so she could find the throne.

And more interestingly- Charlie is an unreliable narrator here, so her perspective is to be taken with a grain of salt, but- according to her, Charlie's motivations are to heal Them. They're broken currently, according to her, and They gave her the power she has now. And she wants to repay Them for what They've given her. Which is INCREDIBLY interesting.

AND. THE FUNNIEST PART ABOUT THIS PLAY. IS WILSON.

So, everyone's cast in different roles, right? Charlie's the Doll, Winona's the Blacksmith, Maxwell's the King, and the Mirror is probably Them, right?

WELL. WILSON. IS CAST IN THE ROLE OF "THE FOOL." HE'S CAST AS SOME FUCKIN DUMBASS WHO ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKS THE KING OFF HIS THRONE AND KILLS HIM BY MISTAKE. AND IT'S ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS.

What's funnier is that WILSON HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. Winona comments on the scene where Charlie casts her as suffocatingly overprotective, saying "Is there something you wanna tell me, sis?" Maxwell comments on the scene where the Doll finds the Mirror, asking if this is how she really sees him and remembers what happened.

BUT WILSON. HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT BEING CAST AS "THE FUCKING IDIOT DUMBASS WHO TRIPPED OVER HIMSELF AND KILLED THE KING ON ACCIDENT WITH HIS MERRY FOOLERY." Meaning either he DOESN'T realize that's meant to be him, he DOES realize and is just silently fuming, or he DOES realize and just ACCEPTS IT. Like "okay yeah fair." No matter how you slice it, HILARIOUS.

Anyway, here's the play, it's an interesting watch and the video's only 15 minutes long.

youtube

god the fool costume even looks like wilson if his hair was looser

Aaaaand that's the lore thus far! There's other stuff that's happened- Charlie got a new outfit and became EVEN MORE beautiful, Wagstaff is a hologram, Maxwell teamed up with Charlie as a double agent which I think was a stupid writing decision because I don't feel it makes sense for Charlie but Fine Whatever I don't care Encore isn't canon to me I'm resisting a full rant about this, Wilson has a skeleton under his floorboards, something else may be trying to get people into the Constant, Wilson looks tired as shit, WX ripped out their heart because feeling emotions was painful I'm not over that short I'll never be over it ever and don't get me started on how Don't Starve feels like it has this intense unending grief woven throughout it and

Uhm. Anyway. I'm normal. I'm SO sorry this got this long my beams got me. This is 8k words long and I spent the whole time listening to Ragtime (the song that plays on the gramophone that maxwell had to listen to for eternity)

#asks #dst #don't starve #long post #cassie rambles #i did not mean for thsi post to get THIS LONG good jesus christ

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maladaptive-day-dreams · 1 year

Text

Wet Dream

Eddie x fem!reader, smut 18+, 2.8k words Inspired by these lyrics from Wet Dream by Wet Leg: What makes you think you're good enough / To think about me when you're touching yourself?

CW: mutual masturbation, sub!Eddie and then not so subby Eddie(so technically switch!eddie?), praise, enemies to lovers vibes, hate sex (unprotected p in v, wrap it up kiddos)

here ya go ya filthy animals (me included bc I wrote this and am feelin a lil depraved rn)

Eddie Tags: @eddiemunsonfuxks

You and Eddie Munson have had a rivalry since he started at Hawkins Elementary in 5th grade. Neither of you are sure how it started or why but both of you were always so annoyed with each other whenever you were in the same room with each other—so much so that the Principle was on a first name basis with your parents and Eddie’s Uncle Wayne, and they were on a first name basis with each other.

You won’t deny that Eddie is hot. You even agree to it when your girlfriends all fawn over him and his hair and his voice and his waist and his hands, god his hands. But you only ever admitted to you slight attraction to Eddie in the secrecy of girl’s night—and all your gal pals know not to say a word about it to anyone.

And then, Eddie started dealing drugs once you both started High School and Reefer Rick stopped selling to you and other high schoolers since he had an inside guy now. Taking away your go to dealer gave you a new reason to dislike Eddie. Now your attraction was annoyance and while picturing his lithe body and rough hands had definitely become a part of your ‘self care’ routine, just the thought of him soured your mood.

Your friend Paul was happy to be your little deal mule once you offered to throw in an extra $20 for his ‘services’ though. But then Paul got a lil greedy and only gave you half of your order the last two times you asked him to get you weed from Eddie. You obviously gave him a lil knockabout that might’ve resulted in a black eye and a busted lip, and you having to get your weed yourself now.

So that’s why you’re here. Pounding on Eddie’s trailer door at 11pm on a Friday night after you worked up the guts to get your own weed since you smoked your last mini joint—your attempt at making your last ounce last—yesterday night. But Eddie won’t open the fucking door.

“Eddie!” you berate through the door as you knock again.

No answer.

“Stupid, fucking asshole, he probably won’t open the door because it’s me. What a dick,” you mutter under your breath. “Paul mentioned a key somewhere on the porch for in case Eddie was asleep or in the bathroom or something when he came by. But where the fuck did he say it was?”

You lift up the doormat, nothing. Check in the mailbox by the door, nothing. Raise up one plant, nothing, next plant, nothing. The only thing left is a giant stone that looks way too heavy, but as you go to lift it it comes right up.

“Styrofoam with a wood insert for weight. Clever,” you laugh as you remove the key from its spot under the fake rock.

You knock three times again before giving a warning, “Eddie I’m coming in! You’ve got 20 seconds to put away any porn magazines!”

Putting the key in the handle, you turn it until theres a click and open the door. Stepping inside, you notice that it’s surprisingly clean compared to what you thought Eddie’s place would be like. You walk further inside and drop the key on the table by the door. Shoving your hands in your jean jacket pockets you call out again.

“Eddie? I know you’re here, your van is parked outside.”

You don’t get a response but you do hear noises coming from a room down the hall. Curious, you move towards it. The giant DIO poster on the door obviously means it’s Eddie’s room, but you could also tell because the door was cracked just enough for you to see Eddie face twisted up in concentration, forehead a little slick with sweat.

Realizing what he’s probably doing, you turn around quickly and start to step away and towards the front door but you stop dead in your tracks because Eddie just moaned your name.

“Y/N, fuck me, yes.” His voice was rougher than usual, laced with lust. You squeeze your thighs together, because even though you despise him that was fucking hot as hell to hear. But then you remember that you despise him and instead of walk away you swing open his door and ask a very hard and very surprised Eddie a question.

“What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he removes his hands from his hard dick and quickly tries to cover himself with a blanket.

“Fuck! Y/N what the fuck are you doing here?” He asks frantically.

“I came to get weed because I ran out and can’t trust Paul to give me what I pay for anymore.”

“You could’ve fucking knocked!” he yells in annoyance.

“I did! A lot! For like 10 minutes straight! It’s not my fault you were horny and too busy thinking about me to stop touching your cock and come sell me an ounce of weed!” Your chest rises up and down quickly after your outburst. “And again, Eddie. What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself, huh?”

Eddie shrinks beneath your domineering gaze, trying to curl away from you. “I–“

“Ah ah ah,” you tsk, shifting closer to the edge of his bed. “Look at me, and answer my question.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours and you can tell he’s a little subby baby, which brings a smile to your face.

“I–I’m sorry. I just, I won’t, I–“

“Why are you such a nervous lil boy, Eds? Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Eddie looks at you slightly confused, “you’re not mad?”

“Oh no baby, I’m not mad. I’m just surprised, and a little upset you didn’t ask for permission first.” His eyes go wide as you toe off your shoes and sit in front of him on his bed.

“‘m sorry,” he whimpers, bowing his head. “Can I?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say, running a hand up his bare leg towards the blanket bundled on his lap. “Do you think you deserve to imagine me sucking you off when you rub yourself?”

His leg twitches under your soft touch and you can see his lower stomach muscles tighten at your dirty question.

“Tell me, Eddie baby, do you think of my mouth on your cock or my pussy?”

He groans and bucks his hips into the blanket slightly, muttering a silent apology.

“Answer me.”

“Both,” he gasps as your hand finds its way under the blanket, fingertips brushing his balls.

“Good boy,” you praise and Eddie whines. “I think I’ll let you finish fucking your hand.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide again, big brown eyes searching your face for a lie.

“But,” you pause. “You have to follow my directions, and look at me the whole time. Ok?”

He nods silently and eagerly.

“Words, Eddie. Gimmie your words.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now take off the blanket and let me see you.”

Eddie’s hand reaches for the blanket covering himself and removes it slowly, dick jumping as he does.

“Fuck, your cock is so pretty Eds,” you say shifting a pillow behind you so you can sit comfortably, legs criss crossed. “You wanna touch yourself?”

“Please.”

“Ok, go ahead and stroke yourself, but keep it slow. Don’t want you cumming too soon.”

He does as you say, his dominant hand coming to grip himself at the base of his dick and slowly bringing it to the tip. He repeats the motion three times, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good, now squeeze at the top this time.”

He does, and lets out the deepest groan you’ve heard from him yet. It grows from the center of his chest and releases as he squeezes his sensitive tip. You shift your hips at the sound, slightly grinding yourself on his bed. His eyes flick to your center as you do so and you decide in that moment to give him some fodder for his imagination. His eyes follow your hands as you reach down to rub yourself over your jean shorts, your strokes matching Eddie’s speed.

“Slow down baby,” you say as you unbutton your shorts and pull the zipper down. He doesn’t follow your directions and instead moves a little faster, so you halt your own movements. “Hey, Eddie, eyes up here.”

His eyes flick up immediately to meet yours. “Good boy. Slow down.” He nods and does as he’s told.

“Eye’s up still okay?” you half say, half ask. Once you’re certain he won’t look away, you resume your movements, placing your feet on the bed and lifting your hips to remove your shorts and panties. Settling back into the pillows with your legs butterflied to make sure Eddie can see you, you nod at him, allowing him to watch your hands as they trail down your clothed stomach to your mound.

You lightly trail your pointer and ring fingers down your lips, and run your middle finger through your slit on the upward stroke, Eddie sighing at the sight and sound of your arousal. You tease and circle your clit a few times before giving him his next instruction.

“Play with your balls while you watch me.”

Eddie’s free hand that was previously strangling the sheets to his side reaches below his dick to play with his heavy sack. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, watching each other intently. Eddie touching and teasing and squeezing his balls while you circle and pinch your clit, working yourself into a heady haze, the coil in your belly starting to tighten.

“Ok baby. Stroke yourself to my rhythm,” you gasp shifting your fingers from your clit to your entrance. You circle yourself once, twice, before inserting a finger.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters at the sight of you fingering yourself. His hand resumes it’s place on his throbbing cock. You match each other’s pacing, Eddie fucking his hand as fast as you ride your own.

Both of you are panting as you watch each other, Eddie’s eyes glued to where your fingers disappear into your cunt, and yours glued to the rough fuck of Eddie’s hand on his dick. “I–fuck–I’m close baby. Are you almost there? Are you ready to let go?”

Eddie can’t talk, his hazy desire covers him in want, but his eyes meet yours, his mouth dropped open in a moan. “Let go, Eds.”

He does, covering his stomach in his release as the coil in your stomach snaps and you coat your hand with your own release. Your moans echo through the room, paired with the wet sounds of you finger fucking yourself through your orgasm, Eddie’s eyes still glued to your glistening cunt.

“Fuck,” you say, pulling your fingers from your pussy and wiping them on Eddie’s now very dirty comforter. A sigh falls from your lips as you smile at Eddie.

“I want to be in you so badly,” he admits in his post-nut haze.

“Is that so?” you tease, shifting your legs behind you and getting up on your knees. “Wanna feel my pretty pussy on your cock? Squeezing you so good?”

“I fucking hate you,” he laughs as his dick begins to harden again.

“Mmm but you were such a good boy just a few minutes ago. Doing as your told? Such an obedient baby.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to yours as you crawl closer to him on the bed.

“I wouldn’t mind riding your pretty cock,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hover just over his dick, hands braced on his bare chest, and you can feel the heat of it on your pussy as you slowly lower yourself onto him, running your wet cunt over him. He hisses as his tip catches your hole.

“Just fucking ride me already, Y/N. Stop fucking teasing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What happened to my nice boy that was just begging for permission to think about me while he touched himself?”

“He came. And now he wants to fuck you.”

“Ah what a real gentleman. This is why I don’t like you,” you spit out, rubbing yourself over his cock again to rile him up.

“You don’t have to like me to ride me,” he smirks up at you.

“Yeah but I don’t know if I want to give it to you now. I kind of want to make you beg—oh fuck.”

Eddie didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your hips and slammed up into you, knocking the air from your lungs in a throaty moan.

“Not so hot when you’re not in control huh?” he teases. Smiling up at you as he fucks up into you. You move your hands from his chest to his thighs behind you, and start to bounce on his hard cock.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re so fucking big,” you gasp as his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with every bounce. Eddie’s hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave a bruise.

“Yeah? Do I feel good?”

“Shut up.”

“Awe but I wanted another compliment,” he laughs as one hand leaves your hip to find your clit. He rubs circles around the engorged bud and lets you ride him at your own pace now.

“I still despise you Munson.”

“Feeling is still mutual, Y/L/N. We’ll just fuck and go back to hating each other. No big deal.”

Your thighs begin to burn and your movements slow. Eddie notices and lifts you up and off of his cock.

“What are you–?”

He flips you on to all fours and kneels behind you, lining himself up and entering you again, slowly this time. You squeeze around him once he’s buried to the hilt, and then he’s pounding into you at a relentless pace. His body engulfs yours as he leans over you, hand pushing your upper back into the bed as he continues to bottom out with every thrust into your wet pussy.

The sounds in the room are animalistic. The squelching from his dick moving in and out of your cunt, your moans muffled in the comforter, Eddie’s hot and heavy breath coming out in puffs on your shoulder. He leans back up, wrapping one hand in your hair to bring you up with him. Untangling his hand from your hair he wraps it around your stomach to keep your back to his chest while his other hand reaches down to give attention to your clit again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out, coil in your belly tightening again. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah,” he laughs teasingly. “I can tell, your cunt is gripping me so hard right now.”

“Shut it, Munson, and make me cum.”

“Fuck, fine, but god knows I’ll bust as soon as you do so where do you want me?”

“Inside, I’m on the pill and impatient.”

“Shit,” he mutters into your neck. Eddie puts more pressure on your clit as his thrusts become sloppier. “Cum, come on, let go.”

And you do. You both do. As soon as Eddie feels your release cover his cock, his release coats your walls. He ruts up into you a few more times before pulling out of your warm, wet cunt and leaning back on his headboard. “Never took you for a domme-type, Y/N.”

“Never took you for a hard switch. I definitely prefer you as the sweet little obedient sub from earlier though.”

“Not a word of that to anyone, okay. I’m the dom with most hookups, you just caught me in the moment.”

“You really think I’d admit to people that we fucked?” You reach for and grab your panties and shorts before sliding off the bed to slip them on. “I can’t let people know I caved,” you laugh. “So, how much for an ounce?”

Eddie laughs, “not gonna lie, I forgot that’s why you were here.”

“How much for an ounce, Munson,” you sigh slipping your shoes back on.

“Why do you want so much?”

“The fewer times I have to see you outside of school the better.”

Eddie feigns heartbreak, “ouch, Y/N, that hurts.” He pouts as he reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a bag of weed. “I’ll do it for $80. We can call it the Wet Dick Discount.”

“This is another reason why I don’t like you,” you mutter, handing him the money.

“Listen, I got off, you got off, I got money, you got your weed. I think it was a solid interaction.”

“Yeah well, don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Have $160 next time then. Or plan to see me a little more often in your free time.”

…it definitely happened again…a few times…of course the Wet Dick Discount was only ever given to you…

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #sub!eddie munson #switch!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut fic #eddie munson st4 #stranger things smut #stranger things smut fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut oneshot #eddie munson smut one shot

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ariesbilly · 10 months

Text

More freaky harrington twins au!

Hawkins is ass. It’s boring and dull and Billy’s only on his second day of school and he already wants to kill himself (not that school back in Cali was any better, but at least he had his friends and a decent hook up for some good coke between classes to get him through his days).

The only remotely exciting news he’s heard since being in town are rumors of the Harrington twins, whispered about like they’re some mythical monsters meant to be feared and revered. Billy’s only met the one - Steve - and, while he certainly is pretty enough that Billy wouldn’t mind getting a double helping, he’s also not exactly as tantalizing as his reputation makes him out to be. Probably has something to do with that nerdy girlfriend of his. Unfortunate.

Maybe the other twin got all the personality. Or maybe this town is just so conservative that anyone slightly out of the norm warrants gossip (he’s sure his dad will love that).

When he slams his locker shut, he’s greeted by one of them on the other side, casually leaning against the metal like this is old routine, just two pals catching up between classes.

“The fuck you want, Harrington?” Billy doesn’t know which one it is, but doesn’t want to let in to that little fact.

Whichever twin is standing in front of him smirks, temptation, but Billy can see the venom there. Will do him in if he gets too close.

“I’ll tell you if you can guess which one I am.”

“Your mistake is thinking I give a shit what you have to say.” Billy slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and turns away. He’s got lunch and he’s starving.

Harrington’s tailing his ass down the hall, an irritating giggle bubbling from his lips as he keeps pace. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Billy huffs, playing dumb.

“Which one I am. You can’t tell us apart.”

Billy doesn’t answer.

“No, that’s fine,” the guy continues. “We’ve been going to school with the same people since pre k and even they have difficulty sometimes. Tell you a real good way to help you learn, though-“

Billy swings around, halting Harrington in his tracks as they stand chest to chest in the empty hall. “By me bludgeoning you to death so there’s only one left?”

The threat doesn’t have the intended affect. Harrington’s eyes light up with an all to recognizable thrill. Makes Billy want to slam him against the lockers and- He’s not supposed to be doing that shit anymore. The whole reason he ended up in this bumfuck town in the first place.

“Come eat lunch with me and my brother,” he says, eyes flickering down for the briefest second to Billy’s lips.

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Wasn’t really a request.” Harrington’s staring at him, bold, unflinching. Too confident and cocky for his own goddamn good. Has feelings stirring up in Billy’s gut he’s trying to keep buried down. “But you know you’re curious. Heard all the rumors. Wanna see what’s real and what isn’t…”

Billy ends up following him to lunch, and he’ll blame it on the fact this town has fuck else going on, and this has the potential to be the most exciting thing he’ll face.

The other twin is already awaiting them at the table when they reach the cafeteria. A scowl on his face as soon as he meets Billy’s eyes, Billy knows which one he’s looking at. Kind of impossible not to be able to tell them apart now that he sees them side by side. Maybe it’s just Billy’s presence bringing out the distinction. Makes him feel kind of smug.

“Billy, you know my baby brother Steve,” the other one announces, taking his seat next to his twin.

“We’ve had the displeasure of meeting, yes.” Billy grins, pissing Steve off further.

“The displeasure was all mine.”

“Aw, now come on, children, this is meant to be a fun play date!” Other twin says, too bright and cheery for the current tension at play. “Billy, please, sit down.” He extends his arm out towards the seat on the other side of the table. Billy let’s a few seconds pass before sitting down.

“Fantastic! See, Steven, he can play nice.”

“Fuck you,” Billy bites, but he doesn’t leave.

“He can play mean, too,” he laughs. God, this guy is something else. Probably a freak in the sack. Billy’s just getting that vibe.

“I should probably introduce myself. I’m James. Eldest Harrington-“

“By like, five minutes,” Steve grumbles.

“It’s a touchy subject for baby brother,” James stage whispers, leaning forward towards Billy. “Anyway, as the eldest, I wanted to invite you to lunch with us today because, well, to put it bluntly; you’re the shiny new toy of Hawkins and we wanted to see what you were all about.”

“I’m not a fucking toy,” Billy grits through his teeth. The last thing he needs is some rich fuck thinking he owns everything because of daddy’s unlimited credit card.

“No, no, of course not.” James waves his hand dismissively, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “You’re a person. A very attractive one. We don’t get a lot of California transplants around here, as you can imagine. So my brother and I are curious to see how you…stack up. Against the townies we’re used to.”

It feels like a set up. Every fiber of Billy’s being is telling him not to take the bait, to ignore these hicks and move on with his life because he’s already fucked up bad enough to get sent here, doesn’t want to know the consequences of doing it again.

He makes his decision, the metal legs of his chair scraping against linoleum as he pushes away from the table to stand up. “Well have fun with your fantasies about me, ‘cause that’s all you’re getting.”

He goes to leave, but is stopped abruptly by a hand on his wrist. James. Smirking up at him like the devil incarnate. Guy gives him the creeps, if he’s honest.

“Just let it go, James. He can’t hang. Wouldn’t be any fun anyway.” Steve doesn’t even look up when he says it. Is too busy picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, bored look on his face like he’s above all this.

Fuck that.

Billy’s eyes bore holes through the kid’s skull, fist clenching at his side because who the fuck does he think he is acting like he knows anything?

“Our house is in Loch Nora,” James announces, hand still wrapped around Billy’s wrist. “Sure you can figure out which one. Come by at 10. Don’t keep us waiting.”

Steve looks up then, unsmiling but clearly pleased with himself. Billy would love nothing more than to lunge across the table and make him eat his teeth.

They can fuck right off thinking he’s just gonna come crawling because they said so. The fuck does he look like?

He should leave them high and dry. Keep them waiting all night just to have the satisfaction of seeing them pissed off and blue-balled tomorrow.

He won’t. But he should.

#freaky harrington twins au!#harringrove #I’m on mobile so I’m not linking the previous stuff but like just click on the tag lol #my writing

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voxofthevoid · 3 months

Note

for the ship ask game, i saw you say you ship Nobara/Maki and Maki/Mai so i am curious now what you like about them (i love them too 😌). and Higuruma/Yuuji

(something i will never get tired of saying: love your goyuu fics! :D also i am tempted to finally watch Hannibal just so i could read your fics)

*chokes* THOSE FICS ARE TEN YEARS OLD, PLEASE, YOU WON'T RECOGNIZE THE WRITING. I sure don't. Anything I wrote pre-2018 makes me skitter away in fear.

Ahem. The ships. Good choices!

Nobara/Maki

Ship It

What made you ship it?

I was pretty 👀 after that one scene where Nobara leans on Maki's shoulder and says she respects her. Maki's reaction, while mild, was pretty cute, and it's also the most...sweet we see Nobara act with anyone. It was then followed by Nobara recruiting Yuuji to basically support Maki during the GW event, and I was sold at that point. That one manga cover where Maki and Nobara look like they're on a date certainly helped.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

They're both sharp-edged people who get a little soft for each other, and I like that. I also think their personalities would intersect and interact in fun ways—not a lot of outright complications, a bit of reserved communication that would probably get talked out, etc. And this may sound odd, but I like how the way they get along and are less prickly with each other doesn't come across as "they're pals because they're gals" but as people softening due to romantic interest. Won't lie, it's once again too tame to really light my brain up, but we've got Mai/Maki for that.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Hmm, nope, don't think so.

Maki/Mai

Ship It

What made you ship it?

I'm a simple man: throw me a sibling relationship with fucked-up vibes, and I'll happily ship it. But honesty, this writes itself. Their interactions during the GW event alone are pretty compelling, especially the clash between Mai's abandonment issues and Maki's more practical approach. Then we get the utter gem that's the Perfect Preparation arc, and holy shit.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I love me some tragedy. The part where Maki tells Naoya that no, she doesn't have a heart because "she took it with her" lives rent-free in my head. Post-Mai Maki, from the grief-fuelled massacre of her clan to the visions she has of Mai in relation to the sword she became, makes me fucking feral.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I think they should make each other worse.

Higuruma/Yuuji

Ship It

What made you ship it?

To be honest, I think my initial draw to this was that it reminded me a little of nanaita. And I've always approached this ship as Higuruma reminding Yuuji of Nanami somewhat, so you can imagine how satisfying it was to see canon itself draw a parallel, albeit with their deaths. But even disregarding the nanaita influence, I'm pretty damn fond of this ship. I absolutely love every single one of their interactions, especially the last fight and the flashback where we see Yuuji talking alone to Higuruma.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

This is highly specific, but the way Higuruma can't look Yuuji in the eye to the point he threw/lost their fight because of it and then fucking dies while making serene eye contact with Yuuji is going to haunt me for as long as I'm in this fandom. Can you tell I love tragic shit?

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Just my usual "let Yuuji fuck that grown man" agenda.

And thank you! You're a gem, as always ❤

Ask can be found game here.

#yaoshifollower #ask game #i love my anons

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ladye-zelda · 4 months

Text

@merriclo Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! From, your Secret Santa!

I am so sorry it has taken me this long to get to you 😭 but hi! I'm you're secret santa! I hope you're okay with some modern au Linked Universe -- if it's not to you're liking then I am more than willing to redo it for you! (I hope that's not wrong of me to say that)

A little bit of hurt/comfort; did my best to convey a found family

---

Of all of the things, Legend had least expected a letter to go through his mailbox. Spiders and dust were to be expected, as anything that was delivered to his house were the packages he ordered from Malozon. Notice of his bills were emailed to him directly, and Legend had long since made sure that no one sent him any junk mail. Besides, he was hardly at home anyways, having leased his house to Ravio while he lived in his van, occasionally visiting to make sure the house was still in his name. He thought he would take a break and spend the holiday at home for once, but found only a note saying Ravio had left to be with his family in Lorule. Alone for the holidays once more.

Except, during the one time he decided to check his mailbox, he found the letter. Curious, he took it and opened it immediately. An invitation.

It was written professionally enough. Holiday get-together at Time’s ranch. 6 pm. Scribbled on the bottom, however, there was a handwritten note.

Hey Legend – heard you were in town for the holidays. That’s great! We know that you love to stay alone during this time, but we would like for you to come. If not, then that’s okay! Enjoy the holidays!

Your Pal, Twilight.

Twilight was right, Legend did enjoy spending the holidays by himself, but…

… maybe he could go to this party just once.

It was very busy in the Lon household. The main house was crowded head to toe with Links scurrying everywhere. Wild and Twilight were helping Malon in the kitchen, while Wind, Hyrule, and Four were on decorating duty with the tree. Wars wandered trying to help out the best he can, but he ended up joining Sky in helping decorate the rest of the house. Time avoided the chaos and stayed on the couch, sipping a nice warm cup of hot chocolate. He was no good at baking, and never had an eye (pun intended) for decorating, so staying out of things was probably the best decision he had ever made.

Besides, it was not like he could really focus on those kinds of things anyways. He was worried for the missing member of their group. Legend.

None of the Links had heard from their friend in a long time. They weren’t sure why he would pack up and leave his house all of a sudden, or go totally silent. Although they texted him from time to time to make sure he was okay, they decided that he would probably still need some space. They didn’t have high hopes that he would come over for this party, but that didn’t mean that they still couldn’t try.

Time didn’t hear the knock on the door, but soon he found Four hopping down from the ladder he had gotten, yelling “I got it!” then rushing to open the front door.

“Legend?”

The house suddenly became quiet. Malon, Wild, and Twilight rushed out of the kitchen, their mouths gaping as they saw who was at the doorway. Time looked up, immediately standing, both his eyes open in disbelief.

It really was Legend standing in the doorway, rubbing his neck uncertainly as he stared at some spot on the floor. Four immediately hugged him, only to have Wind run up beside him saying “Hey! I want a hug too!”

Everyone gathered around Legend, laughing, crying, all trying to talk over one another. Sky and Wars came back from whatever part of the house to check what was the commotion about, and broke down in emotional messes seeing their long-lost friend. Sky, who was half-crying, half-smiling, cut his way through the crowd to give Legend a big hug. Wars, on the other hand, was trying not to laugh hysterically seeing Legend’s choice of hair color. “You do know you’re supposed to drink red juice, right?” he teased, rubbing his friend’s hair.

Instead of scowling like Legend did whenever Wars teased him, he was smiling. In fact, it was probably the most their hermit (as many of the boys said Legend was) had ever smiled in his life. He was grinning from ear to ear, his buck-teeth that he was usually insecure about shining in their glory, trying to weave in “I missed you too”s in the “I miss you”s.

Time smiled as well. The kid was going to be okay.

After everyone had had their fill of Legend hugs, they sat him down on the couch. Wild went to go make him a batch of hot cocoa, Malon took Legend’s coat and boots and switched them out for a warm blanket. Wind and Four went to finish decorating the tree, while Hyrule, Wars, Sky, Time, and Twilight sat down with him, Twilight and Hyrule sitting on either side of their friend. Malon went back to the kitchen to help bake the rest of the party’s treats. Hyrule volunteered in place of Twilight, but everyone knew Hyrule was worse of a disaster than Time was. Sky went in his place instead, despite the closest he had ever got into any sort of food preparation was the one time he had to volunteer in a soup kitchen for a misdemeanor he had done as a minor (quite a surprise to all of the Links when they had found out).

While everyone tended back to their duties, Legend listened intently as they updated him on all of the things that he had missed. A few birthdays, a wedding. Time began to worry that Legend would start feeling sorry for himself, but Legend stayed surprisingly positive throughout the whole exchange. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting on the inside.

“Cookies are done!” Malon called from the kitchen. She brought out a plate of gingerbread cookies, offering them to each of the boys. “They’ve cooled down too.”

Everyone took a cookie, giving their thanks and complementing her as they took a bite. “Well, don’ thank me fully,” she giggled. “Gotta give a lil’ credit to Wild too!”

“Thank you Wild!” the boys called. They received a thumbs-up from him in return.

“So, what ‘bout you?” Malon asked, turning to Legend. “What’r all the cool things you’ve seen on your adventure?”

The boys looked at Legend with wide eyes, unsure if the question had struck a chord with him or not. Legend, however, just stared deeply into the cup of hot chocolate cupped between his hands. His expression looked a lot like Wild’s whenever he was remembering something. Unpleasant or not, only Legend could tell them.

Eventually, Legend broke his stare with a big sigh. “It was quite the adventure.”

He told them all that had happened in the last year. His van broke down more than a couple of times, he was chased by a tornado, and spent a season working at a renaissance fair. Working at the fair was his favorite part, as he met all sorts of people. “But…” he says, with a sad sort of expression. “They’re not like you guys.”

He realized what he had said, his cheeks flaring up in embarrassment as his brothers started to “Awwww” and tease him.

Wild finally came into the living room, chuckling. “Well, I guess it’s time that we celebrate the moment that Legend, our one and only king of sass, admits that he likes us.” From behind his back, Wild brings out a giant chocolate cake, decorated with frosting and already lit candles. Written on it was, Happy Birthday Legend!

Legend squinted at the words. “But… My birthday was last month.”

“We know,” Malon said. “But, well, we weren’t sure if you celebrated your birthday already or not, but we missed your birthday and wanted to make it up to you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say…” Legend stammered. His lip started to quiver, and before anyone could blink tears began rolling down his eyes. Hyrule and Twilight pulled him into a hug, before each of the rest made their way to him. Wild stood off to the side, confused as to what he had done wrong, but Time placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder and shook his head. Nothing that Wild had done was wrong.

Legend was full-on sobbing now, spilling how it had been so lonely ever since he left. He regretted leaving, that he was stupid for feeling all cooped up and instead of staying, missed out on all sorts of lives and events he wanted to be a part of, but didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I am so sorry.”

Time waited until Legend’s cries had quieted down before saying something.

“You have no reason to apologize, Legend,” Time said. “To laugh, to love, to hurt, to regret. Every single one is a step forward. While you may look back and see all of the things that you wish you have done or wish you have changed, the point is you’re looking back. Look how far you’ve come.” Time placed a hand on Legend’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you. We all care for you. No matter where you go, or when you come back, we’ll be here for you.”

“Aye aye!” Wind said. “We love you Legend!”

“Oh… guys…” Legend said, making a wet chuckle. The boys gave Legend one last hug before breaking into the chocolate cake Wild had prepared. For the first time in what felt like forever, Time’s family felt complete.

#the ladye answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic #many legend centric but there's a bit of time #everyone makes an appearance though even malon #lol sorry its a bit late for me so I am a little squirrely with the tags and warnings #anyone can let me know if I need to tag anything and i'll properly do so #the ladye writes #alkdfjlajfdlaf sorry this is the first time of me doing anything like this so #*runs*

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onefleshoneend0 · 1 year

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Ok i’m having a little conspiracy moment and i just noticed something

right so in htn ch. 33, pal says this about third house literature:

this is not that interesting apart from the name- Abella Trine (obviously a third name, Muir mentioned that ianthe and corona would have been called abella and cainabeth)

it goes on:

obviously this is a reference to bad wattpad style writing and trashy romance novels but…

Those seem awfully similar to some other characters we know…

Abella is ianthe- the name, as i mentioned, is one Muir had been using for one of the Tridentarii (presumably ianthe). Plus the description- too skinny, a pain in the arse, immensely talented at flesh magic

the spoiled swordswoman is coronabeth- the description is very corona reminiscent: spoiled, handy with a sword, parties a lot. The fact that the “narrative doesn’t like her” is interesting- we already know corona and ianthe have an… interesting relationship, and if my theory is correct, this provides some more insight into ianthe’s mind

the tedious widower seems to me like harrow- the fact that Abella (ianthe) is into her, the fact she is described as tedious, but mostly because of:

the saintly husband. This is gideon- the widower’s spouse who “ate a grenade.” Seems like a very gideon thing to do. Can’t think why.

The similarities just seem too deliberate to be a coincidence

my theory is that this is ianthe’s version of gtn and htn. If she got a book to herself it would be this- a trashy romance novel with her as the protagonist. besides, didn’t Tazmyn Muir say that ianthe would see herself as the main character in a romcom? That’s a coincidence. if we think of it as such, that means we have an inkling into the devious machinations of this terrible woman’s mind since it’s all from her pov

things i noticed that could be significant:

The narrative not treating corona well- how much does ianthe like her sister? We know she is pretty much the only one ianthe cares about, but loving and liking someone are very different.

the “two massive misunderstandings-“ not sure what this refers to, but feels noteworthy

the fact that ianthe’s happy ending would be raising a kid with harrow- did not expect something so domestic from our resident terrible person

also how did the book come to be there? i’m definitely thinking about this way too hard, but if it is somehow ianthe’s pov, it couldn’t have been in the room when pal died since the whole thing about the husband eating a grenade (gideon sacrificing herself) hadn’t happened yet. How did this book get to be in the river? Can ianthe somehow influence the bubble pal was in? (This seems like a bit much since not even the lytors seem to have much control over the river)

The similarities aren’t one to one and there’s plenty that isn’t quite how it happened (cue abigale). But if it’s just some book and ianthe didn't write it (more likely imo), it still feels important because of all the parallels. I still feel it can offer insight into ianthe’s version of events

this is eating at my brain far more than it should.

tl:dr

IANTHE IS THE WATTPAD PROTAGONIST OF THE LOCKED TOMB SERIES

edit: saw on a post by @feverdreamdrifting that “griddle” is probably not harrow’s childhood pronunciation of “gideon” and the mention of a “phonetically impossible lisp” may possibly refer to harrow here? Maybe?

please share your own thoughts, i am so confused and curious.

#Tlt #crack theory #ianthe #cw ianthe #coronabeth #tridentarii #harryanthe #my brain is rotting #atn #alecto the ninth #The locked tomb #htn spoilers #i am definitely squinting too hard at this #It just seems too deliberate

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rewordthis · 5 months

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Episode 17

Right, ok, let me be salty for a moment at Gege for making me believe that Sukuna is a heartless fiend that has absolutely zero care in the world.

He was so freaking excited to see Uraume, man! Did you hear him properly? Did you? I never expected his blasé ass to be so damn happy from literally the bottom of his heart about anyone and anything other than bloodshed!!!

And then he goes off to save Megumi because he has business for him. Like… can you please not be so all over the place, King? I know that you need Megumi for your agenda and that was the sole reason you performed RCT on him, but now I am curious why you wanted him. Is it because he’d make a good candidate for something? Because you only realised halfway into the battle that Makora was able to adjust to your CT. And pal, was I looking at a Sukuna that truly loved the fact that someone (something) was able to see his technique. See him. I’m 100% sure he’d drag the battle a bit more just for kicks if it didn’t have an immediate effect on Megumi’s life. And that was actually terribly honest of him, saying that if Megumi had indeed summoned Makora back in the detention centre then he’d really have bid farewell to this world. Hahaha I sure love him, for that aspect of his character. He’s not afraid to admit his opponents worth or his worthlessness (caused explicitly by his meat-suit) so far for that matter… 😎

Ah, but you see… I am very, very , very curious as to how he’d react in case Uraume gets killed. Bonus points if Gege has the balls to do it in front of his eyes. 😈

And Megumi. Megumi saying sorry to Yuuji because he was going to sacrifice himself to perform the ritual… 🫠 Why are you like this, child? I love the little details that come up in his character. And the fact that Megumi and Nanami share the same MBTI type is just… pfff~ the cherry on top, ok? Because why did I ever made Nanami in one of my WIPs say the same thing? Why? Why are we so predictable, Gege?! 😩

Also, now that I think about it, what did Sukuna do with Haruta? 😗 He said that it was a good thing he saved him, but I got the sense he was referring to his CT. Could it be that Sukuna hacked his technique, too? Like he did with Jogo? Hmmm… didn’t seem like he did in that very moment but maybe at some point? 🧐 And on that note, I’m also contemplating the way he spoke that incantation during his battle with Jogo. I always thought that the box was a means of censoring but in the anime he really mouthed ‘hako’ aka box. Well, considering how accurately an anime can replicate the way something is pronounced that is… after that, the kanji for ‘fuuga’ is the kanji that means ‘to open’, but is also used in other meanings as well like ‘starting’ etc. However, and you can totally call me stupid or paranoid, the first thing that I remembered the minute I heard it was the name of Maya from Saint Beasts. ‘Fuuga no Maya’ had the power to manipulate and control ghosts, which considering how interconnected and vague almost all of those meanings are, could potentially also mean that Sukuna commands the ‘spirit’, or like I had mentioned in a previous post the subconscious that is ‘jujutsu energy’ to open up to him. Well, this is a stretch, but somehow it feels very possible?

By the way, Yuuji’s eyes burning red when he changed back made me think that he’d go full berserk mode but baby boy seems to have had so much rage in him that he just snapped and decided that that’s it; he needs to die and take Sukuna along in Hell. He must definitely believe he can’t handle this beast any longer. Because those black-hole orbs just weren’t Yuuji’s eyes anymore ok?! He’s gone crazy right now. He’s checked out and that is the one thing Gojo tried to tell him he should not do! Jujutsu sorcerers need to keep levelheaded, Todo said the same thing, in order to be able to summon their full strength when they’re fighting. Please, Gege don’t make my kid lose himself any more than this. Don’t drop on him all Hell, all at once! Give him a moment to breathe. Let him meet up with someone that will calm him down enough to realise that he should not waste his energy without a care.

Megumi despite all odds is safely at Shoko’s hands…

Nobara as far as we know is ok…

Nanami should fucking go back and receive treatment because I don’t know what that man is trying to do by going down there in this state… I mean, you know there are special grades in the station, love! You know you can’t really compete with them if you already faced such an awful ‘defeat’ by one that didn’t even stick around to finish you off. Where are you going?! Why are you going? But you’re going because you care, huh? Because you want to make sure everyone is alright. To protect them…. Because one way or another, you believe that the only one who can save everyone is Gojo and you need to help him out because you are the one qualified enough that’s left to help. Stupid! Have you never realised that Gojo trust you to be the first after him?! That he considers you second only to him?! Have you only ever looked at him through those stupid glasses, idiot? He trusted you his students! His biggest secret when he needed someone to take care of Yuuji — the resurrected vessel of Sukuna — the boy that every single higher up wanted dead by all means. He believed you to be his ally. His little minion! He trusted you with the future of the jujutsu world, even if you considered him just a self-centred and indifferent individual, he still wouldn’t want the world he loved and thrived into to be destroyed! He trusted you… because you were you! Why are you acting like you have a fucking death wish?! Why are you doing that?! Don’t you care how much disappointment you’ll feed him? Or maybe that’s your revenge, for being the kouhai that gets teased all the time… Tsk tsk tsk. You got too caught up in your sense of duty, Nanami and that’s not going to end well(yes, I know. It’s been splattered on my feed for a year now…). I hate you. Actually, I hate that you’re so… proper on your everything. Be a little more disobedient, damn it! Why are you a little sarcastic prick only with Gojo but never to anyone else? I bet if he’d told you to “go down to that platform”, you’d first come up with a snarky comment and then go because he’d force you to… Jeez~ 😑

Why my 57 heart… 🥺

#ryomen sukuna #nanami kento #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fandom talk #episode rant

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sansxfuckyou · 7 months

Text

Compact Confessional

Summary: Mysterion is holding something from the rest of the Freedom Pals. They should respect his privacy, they really should- but they only take it as a challenge.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, privacy breach, betrayal of trust, swearing, feral behavior (in Kite), the authors attempt at humor, heavy guilt, interrogation, it gets worse but then it gets better guys, I promise

Authors Note: hurgh K2, with the additional flavor of kitesterion because I went batshit over the AU to an insane degree. I have no clue when the Ao3 port is dropping. Sorry if some of the colored text, isnt colored. And fair warning, this badboy levels around 10K words, tumblr starts to lag around 7.5K for anyone curious. it is almost 3 AM (do artists ever stay up insanely late to finish big projects and get so sleepy they forget the hotkey for the eraser tool? I wouldn't know, but somewhere along the line I kept trying to write segue way with a Q because I was fucking disoriented) I need to go to sleep right the fuck now

Mysterion is keeping something from the Freedom Pals, he's keeping something from all of them. Maybe if he was willing to talk about it with someone everyone wouldn't find it so intriguing. Maybe then everyone wouldn't want to know what it is that's so fucking important that no one is allowed to know about it.

Super Craig tries to act like it's nothing super big, aware that if everybody paid no mind to it that it might come out faster. Tupperware followed suite with the idea, Wonder Tweek tagging in as well. Other members of their franchise were a lot less… subtle, about their interest in Mysterions secret, whatever it is. The Coon is practically begging him every single day to tell him what it is, Call Girl even joins in. Toolshed is pretty sure the both of them are just making things worse it they want Mysterion to come clean.

Human Kite is the only one that refuses to meddle at all, even Doctor Timothy has tried getting a peek in Mysterions mind. The alien is the only one that sits there and listens to him bitch about how annoying they are. The only one that pauses to look and listen and take in every visual and audible cue because that's what he's known to do since he first landed way back when. It tells him a lot about his teammates if nothing else.

Still.

Mysterion- no, Kenny McCormick is hiding something from his friends. And given the fact that it's barely coming out even when he's in a state of delirium or terribly wounded, it must be something big.

It's starting to piss off Kyle a little bit.

-/-/-/-

"Thanks for letting me hang out for a bit man," Kenny said as he pulled on his orange parka. He opted to leave his bleached cargo shorts and purple everything else in a pile on Kyles bedroom floor. It was easy to do that when the alien offered to wash them, "Chilling with Cartman all the time definitely does not do wonders for ones mental health."

Kyle gives a laugh, the kind that leaves teeth too sharp on full display. "Totally, I swear to fuck that asshole needs therapy," He stills his tail from wagging like he's a little kid, except, when he was a little kid he tied his tail up so it wouldn't be exposed in an all too human world. An extremely uncaring world for anything different then what they know as normalcy.

"He needs so much therapy," Kenny answered with, "See you tomorrow?"

"On our patrol, I'll make sure your suit is washed," Kyle said, throwing an arm to the side, an invitation for a hug. He wouldn't be sad if Kenny didn't take it, but he still can't help the way his heart skips several beats when he gets one. An anchoring tightness enveloping him, squeezing a comfortable amount on his rib cage that would hurt if he was human.

"Thanks Kyle," Kenny said quietly, head propped near Kyles shoulder but not quite tall enough to rest it on top. He pushes himself on his tippy toes to press the top of his head to the bottom of Kyles chin. He takes a dramatic step back and maybe Kyles tail is swaying a little bit with a silky soft comfort residing on his skin. He clasps his hands together, "Tomorrow."

"Yeah man, see you then," Kyle said, the instant he realized his tail was doing the thing he stilled it entirely. He felt a slight singe of cyan embarrassment. Stupid alien anatomy. Giving away how he feels.

Kenny pivots on his heel and gives a wave, "See ya man!" His steps are light and Kyle is watching with maybe a little bit too much intent.

He has zero legal rights to do so, but emotional and psychological rights? He has plenty. The first one being that he might've imprinted on Kenny the second his family landed on earth. He might've latched onto both Mysterion and Kenny like an orphan duckling in his childhood era of existing- so much so that he couldn't help the absolute giddiness when he learned they were the same. Maybe he got a little bit too attached to Kenny compared to everyone else in a human sense. But in an alien sense, in his instinctual sense, he was the perfect amount of attached considering how he thought of Kenny.

The second reason he stared was because Kenny had an undeniably amazing ass. That wasn't just personal opinion either, they held a vote after a particularly odd argument in the Freedom Pals lair. Kenny won by an absolute fucking landslide in the votes and voter fraud having taken place can't be confirmed or denied by anyone.

Except for Doctor Timothy of course.

And if there is a god, Kyle is praying everyday that the human one makes sure that Doctor Timothy doesn't look into the legitimacy of the votes.

Kyle barely drags himself back from his thoughts, he's been told he can get lost in them sometimes. His tail is wagging again, the multicolored diamond-like frills undulate a little bit. He swings the front door shut reluctantly when he can't see Kenny anymore. He tugs off his gloves and tosses them in a pile alongside his hat, letting the splotchy cyan coloration of his skin show. He makes his way up to his bedroom, but he finds his impossibly human little brother standing in his doorway.

"Ike, get out of the way," Kyle said sternly, giving a bit of a growl under his voice. His adoptive brother just quirks a brow in that annoying manner he learned from the humans.

Ike clears his throat, "No."

"Well why not?" Kyle questioned, growl snuffed and replaced with something louder and more resonant, it vibrated in his brothers flesh. It was something that Ike long since lost the ability to be intimidated by.

"When are you gonna stop inviting over your little posse of partners eh?" Ike asked, crossing one arm over the other. His tone was nothing but accusatory, Kyle saw through it.

"Are you jealous?" Came Kyles instant reaction.

"No," Ike responded with far too fast to be true.

"I'll play some video games with you on Thursday," Kyle offered.

Ike moved out of the way, "Enjoy wallowing in your disgusting room bud."

Kyle ignored him with nothing more than an eye roll, he made a point of slamming his door shut. He kicked aside a small heap of whatever, a mix of something or other he'd been intending to clean up. He gently picks up a small stack of comics Kenny had lent him and places them on his desk. Right beside the Mysterion charm. And the Mysterion action figure. And the other pieces of shitty Mysterion merchandise he had bought.

Okay, yeah, maybe he had a little bit too much Mysterion merchandise. He was just trying to put some extra cash into Kenny's pocket for when money is tight around the house. He just wanted to make sure his best friend was living a decent life, it wouldn't be enough to give him the life Kyle knew Kenny deserved, but it would help.

He takes hold of Kennys outfit and empties the contents of the pockets into a small bin. Loose change, granola bar wrappers, pocket knife, lock pick, the usual stuff he carried around for hero duties and then some. Kyle shakes the hood loose of any twigs or leaves and something large enough to clatter as it hits the metal netting of the bin falls out. His pointed ear gives a flick at the noise, he's dropping to the ground and pulling it out in a second.

He's completely enveloped in the mystery of what was hidden in Kennys hood because A: fucking genius hiding spot, and B: this could be what Kenny was hiding. It could be exactly what Kenny was trying so hard to keep under the radar, what he successfully kept hidden from everyone's prying eyes.

He came up with a tape, jet black, scratched plastic and a cracked see through window bit. There are silver markings across the black, seemingly unpredictable and laid out with either sharpie ink or a paint pen. The paper label is coffee stained and reads the date, recorded last month (why it's still on Kennys person is odd). The log number is left blank, presumably stated in the recording.

It was a jackpot and somewhere in the back of Kyles mind he knew he should ignore it. He knew this was shattering every rule in the book and that he'd be shattering his friendship with Kenny, Mysterion and Human Kite would probably stop being a dynamic duo at that.

But, he needed to know.

He absolutely fucking needed to know.

He wouldn't dare speak it too anyone ever, and he'd return it to the hood right afterwards. He wouldn't even tell Kenny that he listened to it, he'd just sleep at night knowing exactly what Kennys secret is. And that would be more than good enough for Kyle, he wouldn't need anything else.

He reaches blindly for his cassette player, the one he's held onto since he was young. One of his earliest earthly possessions, one he still cherished and used every day. He popped out the cassette already inside and gently placed the pilfered audio into it. He eagerly grabs his earbuds before pressing play.

Professor Chaos is pretty fucking sure doing this shit is helping out my mental state or whatever He doesn't know what he's dealing with He doesn't know that he's playing with fire trying to get me to spill my guts on his fancy therapy chair But, here I am, sitting on top of the police station fully decked out in my Mysterion persona just chatting it up with myself again

I already know exactly what the problem here is Chaos, the center of this massive shitfuck that even paid therapy couldn't fix!

I've probably said that a million times in every one of these stupid fucking recordings... shit I forgot to do that log date ha!

Ahem, log three, topic. Whatever comes out of my fucking mouth.

Kyle presses pause hesitantly.

Oh god.

This is an audio diary, just for spilling Kennys guts.

And he's listening to it.

He should stop. He really, truly, should.

But he doesn't.

Instead he presses play.

Where were we? Right, right, just saying whatever shit that comes to my mind . . . I'm pretty sure that Kyle thinks I can't see him stare at me whenever I fucking bend over or walk away I'm not complaining, I'm flattered really But jeez man just say it outright if you think I have a hot ass

The pause button is slammed this time.

Kyles face is burning up because Kenny knew apparently, he knew that Kyle stared at him at every chance he gets. He feels his stomach twist a bit because oh man, he got caught staring and Kenny didn't even mention. The usage of 'you' makes Kyle feel even more called out on the matter.

He could drop out now, maybe that's the secret, that Kenny knows he stares. He could sleep at night saying that's the thing he's keeping hidden.

I can't talk much if you put everything into consideration But still! Human Kite himself staring at my ass . . . That's fucking awesome if I'm being honest I would hope I'm being honest cause who else is gonna listen to the truth aside from this stupid tape

Like, I'm just doing whatever and I can feel it He is staring holes into me, somedays it's like he's hitting me with those fucking laser eyes! That'd be hilarious actually One second I'm loading a dishwasher and the next my ass is on fire because he couldn't help but stare The Coon would be laughing about that till he's dead

So would Toolshed

And Call Girl

And Mosquito

We'd all get a good laugh out of it

Except for Human Kite

I think he would die of embarrassment if he lit my ass on fire It'd be adorable Bright blue face, ears drooping the slightest bit, maybe his tail would do something I don't know He'd probably say sorry a lot All I know is that after I'm done putting out the fire I'd say "it's fine!" And then I'd think about how cute he looks for weeks on end

Fuck he's absolutely amazing in every sense of the word God, I'm supposed to use these to rant about my shitty family Not gush about my partner in heroics . Oh well

He's perfect! I swear on my mothers grave he is everything That grin he gets whenever he's about to blow someone sky high I can see almost all of his fangs when he does it, which are fucking scary by the way But I'll be damned if it isn't a little bit hot to think about He could kill me and I'll love him He could do absolutely anything to me and I'd still want him so fucking much

And!

And, and, and There's this little thing he does whenever he gets happy Where the weird bits on his tail like, shake? They move, his tail also wags But the frills don't move unless he's actually happy He can fake the wag but he can't fake the frills moving

It's so fucking cute and weird and different I love it

Anyways! This is South Parks number one worst superhero coming to you live from the top of the police station!

. . .

Shit I think someone heard me

Kyle is paralyzed as the tape ends, letting every single word soak into his brain. His tail is doing the thing, it's wagging. Every nerve in his body is alight and he feels his stomach twisting into knots. His claws are digging into the plastic of the tape player as he just stares. His eyes end up resting on his desk, his laptop, with all of his external attachments.

There's a rush to his movements as he grabs it and the oddest, most useless, thing he owns. A reverse recorder of sorts, a simple thing he crafted but never thought he'd have a chance to use. He flips open the top and jams the plug into it's socket before sliding the cassette as gently as possible into the gadget. He should not be doing this, he really shouldn't be doing this.

But he can't keep the cassette to keep hold of the audio, he needs too extract it if he ever wants to hear it again. Which is wrong, and bad, and he absolutely needs to stop but he isn't. He's clicking 'extract' and watching that loading bar fill up gratingly slow.

He places down his laptop gently and balls up the fabrics before leaving. There's a twist of wrong in his gut, but he ignores it as he swings open the washing machine door. He knows how fucking wretched this is, that he'll be absolutely ruined if anyone finds out. He won't be able to live down the shame of having anyone catch word that he knows the secret. That he knows what it is that's keeping Kenny wound up so tightly.

He'll just keep his mouth shut.

Real easy.

Real simple.

-/-/-/-

Kyle might be abusing the knowledge he garnered from the tape, maybe a little bit. He might be curling up next Kenny a little bit more than often, hunched under a flowing purple cape like a cougar despite the height difference. Just maybe he's resting his head atop Kenny's a little bit more than usual, purring a little bit louder whenever he comes into contact with Kenny.

He really doesn't care though, maybe there's a twisted sense of catharsis he gets from the knowledge that yes, it's reciprocated, despite doing nothing to change it. Being awkward homies acting like there's nothing going on below the surface is entirely acceptable and everything that he's wanted from Kenny the second his family landed. Definitely. Absolutely. He didn't imprint. He absolutely did not imprint. He killed off that instinct way back in fourth grade.

Right after he met Kenny.

One second too late. And he is one hundred percent sure everyone in his family can see it, even Ike! Except, the little shit will hold it over him if he gets a chance. Taunting and teasing that Kyle imprinted on his best friend instead of literally anyone else. Of course, the asshole knows better what with every member of his family sporting claws made to rend flesh.

"Kyle!"

The Broflovski perks up a bit at his name being called. Stan sits down across from him, sliding his safety glasses off as he does so.

"You good man?" Stan asked, Kyle nodded.

"I'm great, amazing even," Kyle said, he gestured vaguely as he spoke.

Stan stayed silent for a moment.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh, "I think I fucked up the first day I landed."

"That was years ago, and just now it's affecting you?" Stan asked. He kicked up his feet to rest on the table.

"Yeah, and Kenny's sort of being an ass. He can trust us, he can trust us more than anyone else in this fucking town!" There's an exasperated exhale as he comes down from the near shout, "How come he's not telling us?"

Stan shrugged, "That's his business, if he doesn't want to tell us, just respect that."

"But-"

"Respect it," Stan pressed, "He might fess up to you first if you just give him time."

"I doubt it," Kyle muttered, barely loud enough for Stan to hear. His tail is snaking around his waist tightly. Tight enough he can feel it sting just a bit.

"Dude. Firstly, calm down," Stan said, Kyle glared at him. The ravenette simply gestured to the prehensile appendage squeezing the air from Kyle's lungs. He drops it, "Secondly, you're his best friend. If he's telling anyone it'll be you."

Kyle gave a hesitant nod, "Yeah, that makes sense."

Stan gave him a grin, comforting, grounding. He dropped down his feet and leaned over the table, holding out a hand. Kyle placed his atop Stan's, his hand was larger. Cyan tinted fingertips tapping along an open palm, "It's fine man, he'll tell us soon enough. It's not like he can keep a secret forever."

"No, you're right man. He can't keep a secret from us forever," Kyle said, a small grin on his face as Stan tightened his grip.

"Now stop stressing so much," Stan said, "Go get some calamari or whatever."

-/-/-/-

Kyle finds the next tape in a vent on top of Unplanned Parenthood while he's on a mission. He's quick to slide it into his pocket before Mysterion can notice. He can't just, jeopardize this discovery, he isn't even sure if he can call it a discovery if he's sure of what it is.

A shoulder collides with him and he stumbles just a bit. His arms are quick to push Mysterion right back up again. There's a crack down his lips and he looks to Kyle, "Get your head in the game, Kite!"

A blast of something or other comes straight at them and there's a brief second of hesitation before Mysterion is tossed out of the way and Kyle is ducking. The blonde is easily caught again and placed down, "Gladly," He takes Mysterion's hand, "Show me how?"

There's a smirk, bone chilling to many but it only makes Kyle's stomach flutter. Mysterion tightens his grip briefly, "Let's go then."

He's quick to launch Kyle forward with a running start, the alien tackling down whichever thug is on them now. Claws detract and tear through silver hued gloves as he snarls, easily dwarfing the goon. They're shaking as Kyle bares his fangs, tail thrashing about and body hunched in a predatory stance. Is he snarling? He is, he's proud of it too as he brings himself to be face to face.

He rears back on his knees, clawed hand raised and ready to slash. He goes to tear open their throat, but a grasp at the back of his collar prevents him. It short circuits him a little bit as the fabric of gloves press against cool skin.

"My friend here isn't exactly human," Mysterion said calmly as he released Kyle's costume. He stayed still and glanced up to Mysterion.

There's a shaky nod from the thug.

"Now, you have two options," Mysterion said. His tongue briefly slid between lips to capture the blood seeping from the crack. He circled around the dropped person a bit more, "Number one, you leave. You run to Canada, and never bother us again."

No response.

"Number two, Human Kite kills you. Right here," Mysterion snaps his fingers and as practiced Kyle gnashes his fangs with a growl, "Right now."

"I'll run! I'll leave!" The convict practically screamed.

"Fine, Kite?" Mysterion said. Claws come down atop the goons eye, deep enough to scar and maybe to go blind in one eye. Kyle stands up, red contrasting the cyan of his fingertips, he watches them run and revels in it.

Once they're far off, darting down staircases and running through the streets, does Mysterion take a seat. He drops down on the roof and Kyle takes a seat beside him, frilled tail wrapping around Mysterion's waist. A hand comes to push back the hood and he leans his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude, being a hero is so sucky," Kenny said with a light laugh, "I just wanna get killed sometimes."

Kyle gives a hum.

"I just come back anyways, but we seriously haven't faced anyone actually dangerous in years," Kenny said, gesturing vaguely as he spoke to drive in the point.

"Definitely," Kyle said, Kenny dropped down onto his back. Kyle leans back to meet him in eye contact.

"I miss when this shit was fun," Kenny said, a sigh on his voice as he spoke.

"I think that most of us do," Kyle answered with. His tongue, forked, flickered out for a brief second.

"You're just like a snake man," Kenny said.

Cyan rose to Kyle's face, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like, your tongue. It looks like a snakes, forked," Kenny said, he did the spock thing with his hands as if to display forked. He stuck out his tongue at the same time, "It's really fucking cool. You got some scales right? And those weird little ridges on your back? All of those are snake-y things, Kyle."

"Yeah, cause I'm a freakish little dude," Kyle said extravagantly, as if to make his point he gave a set jazz hands, gloves off to expose to smallest bit of cyan webbing. He sticks out his tongue between too sharp teeth, "Absolutely monstrous."

"I'd hardly say 'little' is the word for you, ya six foot monster," Kenny taunted back, "And I love ya for that man."

Kyle barely beats down the intensifying flush on his face, "Well, won't stop me from being at least a little bit snake like. It's more fun to be a weird creature than a human anyways," He drops down and nudges Kenny's shoulder with his head until he sits up and nudges off the silvery cape. A hand rests in a tangle of red curls for a brief moment before the alien curls around Kenny's back.

"You're also very... Cat. Very feline. Very not human," Kenny said, words teasing but loving nonetheless.

He rested his hand on top of Kyle's head, gently sifting through a sea of red. He leaned back on his friends torso a little bit as he brought a second hand to run through Kyle's hair. He shifted around a bit to rest almost on his knees, facing Kyle just a bit more. His side pressed to Kyle's lower rib cage, his hands didn't leave the redheads hair for a second. He slid down his friends face just a bit, callused thumbs briefly brushing over the ever sensitive auricle fins he had. Were they fins? Not quite, just cyan flares at the base of pointed ears.

He let his fingers scritch just past the back of Kyle's ears, resting atop the buzzed patch of hair. Olive green eyes fluttered shut as Kenny just rubbed right there, the sweet spot. He slumps into Kenny's hands, chin resting at the heel of his palm (he can't see the gentle smile on Kenny's face).

The blonde nearly explodes when Kyle starts to purr. It starts soft, but it slowly grows, shaking Kenny down to his core with his side pressed against Kyle's diaphragm. Or his lungs. Or his whatever it is that makes that wonderful rumbling sound giving Kenny enough serotonin to live forever. He already will, but this is making that eternity sound a lot more bearable. Then he hears a thudding- three, soft thumps before it resets and happens again. His tail is wagging, Kyle really likes being scratched behind the ears apparently.

Kenny's pretty sure he's falling asleep with the pads of his finger, despite being rough and scratchy, gently rubbing behind his ears. He lifts his fingers for a second too long and Kyle opens up his eyes, "Why'd you stop?" He sounds groggy and disappointed, he stops purring.

Kenny picks up the motions, "You were falling asleep," He tosses his cape over Kyle's form.

Kyle lazily blinks, one eye, then the other. He shrugs the best he can, "And?"

"Good point," Kenny said on a hum as he twirls a finger through curls, a light tug.

Kyle's tail starts to thud again and he's sure the afterglow of this will never fade.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's feeling a little bit guilty about tuning into this tape.

Not nearly enough to make him stop though.

He drops down on his bed comfortably, he doesn't even bother to put in his earbuds. His parents are out for the weekend, his brother is at Kenny's to hang out with Karen, presumably fishing. He knows that he's bound to get a call from Ike sometime in the night for a ride, for Ike, Karen, and maybe even Kenny if it's really rough. But, he'll have enough time to listen to the entirety of it.

He presses play.

I think shits getting worse I'm not using these things properly I should be using these for literally anything else! I could talk about how much I worry about my sister, or my money problems, or whatever!

But I'm still using these tapes for just a few little things

Mostly talking about Kite Not gonna use his actual name this time cause someone heard me last week I'm pretty sure I ran them out of town For good

Do I feel bad about that?

Absolutely not

Gotta protect a mans privacy, even if that means blood and intimidation Which uh, I swear it didn't involve blood This time at least

Now, log number... nine? I'm pretty sure this is number nine I would go back and check 'em all out again, but I lost one of them No clue where the little fucker went But it's gone

Kyle pauses the tape. There's missing ones- he needs to find it before Kenny does. He can just put it back later, like he'll do with this one after he's done thoroughly listening to it. He put back the last one, slid it back into the hidden pocket and acted like it never happened.

Of course, since then he's always checked the hidden pocket whenever he got a chance to do so. But, he's been unlucky in terms of finding any up until this one which leaves him with the idea that the rest have been planted around town. He shuts off his rampant train of thought- he is not going to try and sleuth out all of the tapes. He still has some respect for Kenny's privacy, he still has some intention to keep their friendship intact, and most importantly, he still has full intention of never acting on any of what he hears in said tapes.

That would give away that he's been listening to them, a risk he can't take. He clicks the button again.

Look, I always knew Kite was a weird one Everyone does The guys alien, so we cut him some slack on human things that go mostly unspoken

Conversational subtext, call frequency, having beer on ice- simple shit

And in turn, we also try to learn a bit about his species culture I don't even know if species is the right word Does that make me racist? Are aliens even a race to be racist against? Could I even discriminate if only... Three, exist on earth?

So many questions, so little time

Of course, there isn't exactly a lot about his kind I doubt there's a lot of his kind His mom keeps making quips about how all of them would come to earth if it was easier to integrate But honestly? If you just got rid of the alien extremities I would not be able to tell that Kite isn't human

Same with his parents The lot of them blend in perfectly Don't know why she stresses so much And even if they didn't, they have a human to vouch for them A bunch of humans actually

There's a brief pause where Kyle let's himself think about that for a moment. He's never had a chance to think about it before. He doesn't really dwell on it for longer than a minute, flipping himself onto his stomach. His tail lazily sways back and forth as he listens/

I think I got off point there

Allow me to relocate and get back to what I was supposed to be talking about

. . .

There is a fucking line, Kite! You stay on your side of the line! You can't just walk over to my side! Just waltz on over like you own the fucking place! And just, act like it's no big deal! You just sit down right next to me. Like. Right next to me, are thighs are fucking pressed against each other and you lean into me! You just, push your head up against my shoulder like a fucking cat until I give you attention

Which I always do I'm weak

And then you start purring, and your tail does a dumb little wag! And I'm sitting there, begging and pleading, that I don't do something dumb You're putty in my fucking hands Asking me to just shower you in attention! I do, I always do- I always sit there and give you attention

Whatever it is you want I'd give it to you I'd do it for you Anything, for you

The voice softens just a bit, lowering itself. He sounded so very, very mad. Not even mad, just agitated. His voice is heady, wrapped into the narrative he's spinning so accurately. Kyle feels his stomach flip at the words droning so deeply into his skull. The notions made his skin tingle, heart pulsating so very fast he wouldn't be shocked if it exploded all at once.

But no! I stay on my side of the line Like a good boy

Because I don't wanna freak him out Or scare him off

I feel like such a fucking perv And I am a bit pervy I am fully aware of the fact that I am known to stare if someone fine is walking by

But.

To stare at Kite? To want Kite?

It definitely caught me off guard

And he isn't human He doesn't get it I touch him I feel like I'm dirtying him Even if it's just a high five! I have too much on mind for this shit

I see that idiot and you know what I wanna to do?

Do you even wanna to know what I want do to him?

Kyle slams the pause button, he can feel his nerves shoot up in shock. His tail has went from lazily thumping back and forth to wagging like that of a dogs. The minute ridges on his back are shaking, just a bit. He may be mildly cold-blooded, but right now he really can't tell.

He looks down at his hands and they're entirely cyan, normally just a little bit at the tips. The hue shoots up his forearms. He can practically hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest, the sound bangs back and forth in his skull.

Oh.

Oh he's opened up a massive can of worms with this tape.

He keeps listening

I'd just

I would-

Fuck man I can't even say it out loud I don't know what I was thinking!

I'm sitting on top of city hall and I was about to go off about how I'd fuck him!

Could I even fuck him? Are the species compatible? Do aliens even have reproductive organs?

They must They totally do How else do they, how do they reproduce? Eggs?

. . . Nasty

But I would fucking worship him I would do whatever he asked me too Even if he's too unversed in human reproduction to ask me too fuck him up I'd still do what he asks me too

You wanna go out at that new pizza place that charges by the minute? Let's go darling

You wanna go check out the newest arcade cabinet? Baby, the cars already running

You want me to get your logo as a tramp stamp? I might not do that one actually . That's a lie I'd do anything for him

. . .

God, I'm such a mess I need real therapy

Kyle has long since buried his face in a pillow to muffle his screams (although they're closer to high pitched squeals) and cover his ears. He feels like he's running a fever, a really, really bad fever. Every square inch of his body is on fire and he can't care much that he's clawing into his pillow, downy soft feathers spilling from gouges.

He's drawing a blank.

A complete and utter blank.

He hears the click signalling it's over and he feels his stomach twist in regret.

It's a lot easier to hide that you know something if said something isn't... that, whole thing that just happened. His ears are ringing a little bit as the words ping around the sides of his head, like a game of Pong. The pillow is still keeping his face covered as he rolls onto his back, then his side, then his front, and his side again, knees pressed flush against the wall. Fuck, he feels like he's sixteen all over again, and that was just three years ago! He's too young to be having moments like this.

He mechanizes his breathing, eyes wide open as he stares at the darkness of the space themed pillow case in front of him. Sheer darkness with the occasional blip of a lighter hue. His tail is still thrashing, whipping back and forth madly, he's sure it would scuff the wall if it hit it.

He has to come down from his safe space eventually. Even if that safe space is merely a pillow pressed to his face.

He tosses aside the pillow and rolls onto his back and just stares at the ceiling.

His entire existence has officially been flipped on it's head.

He hears his cell phone ring and he reaches for it, answering before even checking whose calling. He gives a cracked, "Hello?"

"Dude are you good? You sound like you've just been crying," Came Kenny's voice, concern laid on thick.

Kyle nearly hangs upon the spot but instead he bites his tongue and doesn't say a word.

"Look man, dads being a bit of an ass, and Ike was wondering if you could come pick him up for the umpteenth time," Kenny said. He gave a hum, "Could Karen tag along?"

"Totally man," Kyle answered with as he sat up, trying so hard to still his tail. It swiped back and forth atop the blankets, he felt a little bit wrong about not telling Kenny what he knew right now. But, this is a bad time to do that, any Kyle can lie his way out of it again. He hesitates before adding, "You need an escape too?"

"It'd be nice, but you already sound tired. Did I catch you at a bad time? Were you perhaps 'jacking it', my fine, alien friend?" Kenny asked tauntingly, his smugness was palatable.

Kyle wished he could just say 'yeah' and move on instead of carefully think over his next words. Life would much simpler if his head didn't catch on the usage of 'fine' in referral to himself. His mouth felt dry but he choked out some words anyways. "Dude, what makes you think I even have a dick? I got that weird ass alien biology, don't I?""

There's a laugh on the other side, "Hey man, not all of my shots are gonna be spot on. But really, if you don't want me over I won't come," There's an tenderness to his voice and the contrast to the almost gritty and desperate tone he had on the tape gives Kyle whiplash.

"You can if you want too, but I'll probably pass out pretty fast," Kyle lied. He'd just lay in bed, wide awake, for potentially hours with Kenny on the floor beside him. That's how it usually went at least.

"Going full on feral like you did earlier takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Kenny asked.

Silence.

"Silent treatment, did I strike a nerve bud? Regardless, we'll be out front in ten," Kenny said, "I can make you some hot coco if you'd like."

"That'd be nice," Was Kyle's weak response.

-/-/-/-

The night was a lot more tense than either of them wanted it to be.

They usually shared a hug before actually getting into bed and trying to pass out. And if not that then Kyle would subtly demand some time to just, co-exist, in very close proximity to each other. In even more minimal situations, they would just share some words of 'love you bro' and call it a night.

None of that transpired.

"I can just go home man," Kenny offered at the break of two AM.

Kyle rolled over to the edge of his bed, leaning over it just a bit, "It's fine."

"Is something wrong? Cause like, you've just been acting... off, lately," Kenny said gently as he propped himself on his elbows, both resting on his pillow.

"Nothings wrong," Kyle said, he crossed his arms and rested his chin on them, "I am gonna ask my parents some questions when they get back."

"About what?" Kenny asked quietly, as though he were afraid of shattering the night if he spoke too loud. The navy walls cast deep blue across the room, reflecting the moonlight in a comfortable darkness.

Kyle stayed silent.

"Alien stuff?" Kenny asked.

Kyle nodded, "Yeah, alien stuff."

"Fun," Kenny answered with a scoff. He dropped back down again and turned to face Kyle, Kyle's bed frame at least, "But for real, you're just- somethings going on in your head. I can tell."

Kyle shrugged, "It's stupid."

"I won't judge man, you're my best friend," Kenny said. And he said it in such a way that for a brief second Kyle forgot about the tapes entirely.

"How are you supposed to talk to someone about something you don't want too?" Kyle asked, trying to withhold and give equal amounts of information.

Kenny paused, "Work out the words in your head. Practice once or twice, maybe even record it. Figure out what needs to be reworked. Write it out if you must- just get it out of your head."

Kyle nodded.

"Trust me man, the second it's out of your head and off your shoulders, life will be easier," Kenny explained reassuringly, "Even if it's only for a second or two."

"Thanks bro," Kyle said quietly.

"Least I can do," Kenny said.

There's a beat of hesitance, "Love you man."

"Love you too," And then Kenny turns away from him, tugging the blanket up to his shoulders.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's pretty sure that Kenny is onto him at this rate, but, he tries to ignore the terrible slithering sensation that he's been caught.

He just focuses on whatever comes next.

This time it's none other than The Coon himself deciding he needs to bring something up with Kyle. Silence drenches the room in the worst way possible as he sits across from the hybrid. Furred ears are swiveled to face Kyle and it makes him feel impossibly nervous, he knows that Cartman can hear his heartbeat. Can it hear pick up speed when Stan sits down beside him, even more so when Wendy joins.

And then Clyde, Timothy, Jimmy- all on one side of Cartman.

Tweek and Craig sit down on the side with Wendy and Stan, Scott as well.

"We know you figured it out, Kyle," Cartman said calmly, tone frigid in a way that makes Kyle feel paralyzed. The hybrid clasps his hands together in front of himself on the table.

"Figured what out?" Kyle snaps back with, trying his hardest to muster the usual snarkiness he has around Cartman. Bute he fails, miserably at that. He just sounds pathetic, grasping at straws if nothing else.

"Don't play dumb," Wendy said, she sounded sharp. She may be tough as nails, and normally Kyle respects that, admires it even, but when it's directed towards him? He gets why people run from Call Girl.

"Why in the cosmos should I tell the likes of you?" Kyle answered with, feebly trying to defend Kenny's privacy.

A privacy that he had already thoroughly breached and ravaged, alongside the unspoken trust they had. He had wrecked it, ruined it, destroyed it- but he could salvage it from the fact Kenny didn't know that Kyle knew.

"You can trust us, Kyle. We're your best friends," Clyde said. And he was right, he was so right.

Kyle's tail snaked itself around the chair leg, "Really guys, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"His secret, Kyle," Cartman said, "Tell us."

"I," He hesitated, "I can't."

"You've already fucked up your relationship with him enough, Kyle. I got Wendy to do a deep dive on your species, and of the few things she could find, she discovered this," Cartman said. He raised a folder, an awful beige and orange hue, and slid it over to Kyle.

The alien hesitantly took it. It was three pages thick, presumably doubled sided. He opened it and skimmed through the headings, he knew every single trait in and out. He paused at the highlighted one, "You're joking."

"This is serious man," Stan said, "We wouldn't just accuse you of imprinting of Kenny without any basis."

"That's stupid. He's my best friend. That's all, that's our dynamic- the kind of dynamic that rakes in loads of cash," Kyle defended with, hoping that pressing on Cartman's one pressure point would make him let up. He slammed the folder shut and slid it back, "Even if I did imprint on him, it would ruin the franchise and never be reciprocated."

"Then tell us what the secret is, you have nothing to lose, no? Just a friend, they come and go on earth," Cartman said. He was calling Kyle's bluff, did he even realize it? He probably did, or if he didn't, he'd snoop until he did.

"Ask Professor Chaos instead, he knows more," Kyle said, trying so, so hard to deflect. The tension pooling everywhere under his skin was agonizing. He needed an out so bad, he needed an escape so, so fucking bad.

Cartman scoffs, "Already done, he said he was sworn to some oath of secrecy, sent us to you."

Kyle stays silent, forcing eye contact with the sleaze in front of the him. The trash eater himself, scraping tactics from the bottom of the barrel.

"Just tell us, no harm will come from it," Cartman said sternly.

"It'll destroy my friendship with Kenny," Kyle snarled out.

"No new harm will come from it, we all know the damage has been done my friend, it's just yet to be discovered," Cartman said, words cutting into Kyle like a knife.

He bites his tongue, Cartman's right, "Give me a week to collect more information on the subject, then I'll report back with the news."

There's a smug and satisfied grin on Cartman's face as he leans back, "See? That wasn't so hard, was now?"

Kyle stands up and pushes away from the table, "I'm going."

"Don't forget about your patrol with Mysterion tomorrow evening, Kite!" Cartman calls out, head leaned back on his chairs backrest.

Kyle's tail is swaying angrily, "Fuck off."

His fangs are grinding against each other as he storms off, if it weren't for the fact he was in suit he would punt the closest chihuahua like a football. Or do something else just as dumb. Maybe kick a fire hydrant and hope it doesn't dent, or punch a tree. Something to make the tense feeling uncoil, to let himself just relax for one second.

He doesn't deserve that though.

He's been uprooting the very foundations of his friendship with Kenny, all because of some morbid curiosity. And Kenny doesn't even fucking know. Kyle is just getting away with it cause he's being awfully slick with how careful he is to put everything back exactly where he found it.

The worst part is how long it's taken for him to feel genuine guilt about it if nothing else. He's such a fucking snake, biting onto his relationship with Kenny and refusing to let go. Sinking fangs deeper and deeper, searching for more even though it's cannibalizing itself. And the first taste is all that it takes to get someone hooked, shame that the thing he got a taste of was metaphorical guts. Kenny just hasn't realized he's stuck in this ouroboros of a relationship.

Despite that, a really twisted and messed up part of him persists in wondering when he'll find the next tape.

-/-/-/-

He finds the next tape almost a week after the interrogation.

Although, we're using the term 'find' rather loosely here. Instead it sort of, fell directly into his lap. And despite knowing better and not wanting to go any further, he still held onto it and didn't let go.

"Thanks for washing my gear man," Kenny said as he stood at the door, Kyle held the bundle of purple fabrics in hand.

He gave a smile, as convincing as he could manage, "No problem man, least I can do."

"See ya tomorrow bro," Kenny said before pivoting on a heel to leave which struck Kyle as odd. The blonde usually loitered for a little bit, chatted casually about whatevers on his head. But none of that came today.

Still, Kyle closed the door and walked down to the luandry room before shaking out the purple. There was that clatter, plastic against unfinished flooring, it was just concrete at the moment. He tossed in the clothing and flipped on the spin cycle with a bit of lavender scented soap. He slid down the front of the washing machine and stared at the tape.

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't.

He does.

He grips the tape and slams it into the player and hits the play button before he can further question his actions.

I know you're hearing this, Kyle I don't know how long you've been listening to my diary for But it's you It has to be you

Kyle swears his heart stops dead in its tracks. He barely registers that the grit Kenny forces when he's acting out Mysterion has disappeared. That this is just Kenny now.

Who else would be messing with my tapes They're never just right when you put them back You leave scuff marks on the plastic I can fingerprint things, Kyle

I planted this one And log number twelve The rest though? I don't know how many of those you've heard

I'll admit I never meant for number three to fall into your hands I just thought you'd be kind enough to not listen in

. . . How wrong I was

And it's a real shame too You better not have told the rest of the team, Kyle I will make you regret every single breath you've taken if you have

But, that's only if I can get that intel from the gang Do be warned that Cartman is very easy to persuade It won't take me much longer than ten minutes to make him crack

The rest will go even faster Although, I'd give Wendy much longer Craig? He'll be shattering in seven minutes, tops Tweek? Three, maybe four Stan? He trusts me more than you'd expect, he won't even fight

I hope I was right about you being smart, Kyle

Kyle's blood turns to ice.

He is so fucked.

At least he didn't tell Cartman.

You already know my big secret And you have two options, Kyle

Option one: Meet me at Starks Pond tonight to confirm how you feel about the contents of these logs. I'm probably sitting there right now

Option two: Don't. This horrible relationship limbo can remain just like this, on my end I've been stuck here for years

Look, Kyle, what you've done here You're forcing my hand I don't have any other options

Do what you want

I clearly can't stop you

The tape is flung from the cassette player to the other side of the room, it hits the wall and cracks. A thousand regrets pool in the pit of Kyle's stomach and he wants to vomit. He also wants to curl up in a ball and die. Or live in Cartman's basement instead, those are all good options.

But in the same breath...

He's being given a choice when he was sure this whole thing he had with Kenny would simply implode, collapse in on itself and die. He has one chance to make this better than it is. He'll never be able to make this right, but, he can at least try and reinforce the breaking pieces before it's entirely broken.

He picks himself up off the ground and starts on his way up the stairs. He freezes at the door, is he gonna do this? Is he gonna go out to Starks Pond and talk like he should've far too long ago?

Yeah, yeah he fucking is.

The real question is if he's actually gonna say whats been fueling his co-dependency with Kenny for so long.

He isn't sure if he'll manage to fess up to the stupidest biological function he has. He'll try, he'll make an attempt to explain exactly what's been conspiring inside of his head without him even realizing for so many years. He'll at the very least get out a couple words to explain the dumbest thing he's been roped into by his own genetics and unfortunate timing.

-/-/-/-

The ever-present snow and ice crunches under Kyle's boots, but that's the last thing he's focusing on. His eyes are trained ahead of hi as he walks along the edge of Starks Pond. His tail is still, a very rare occurrence.

When he reaches the edge of the pond that Kenny's standing at he's lost his words. The blonde is just staring at him, looking for tells. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his orange jacket, bright orange, pumpkin orange. Kyle can't focus on anything.

"It worked, you nosy little shit," Kenny said, words weaponized with ease.

"Yeah, it worked," Kyle said. He took a step closer, "I'm sorry," and then another, "For everything really," A third step and Kenny tenses, flinching back just a bit. In turn Kyle steps back.

"For what? Did you tell them?" Kenny asked defensively. He sounded scared more than anything else.

"I know better than that Kenny, they did interrogate me though," Kyle explained stiffly.

Kenny gives a hum, "That gets that problem out of the way."

Kyle nods, "Yeah, that it does."

"So, you listened to three, nine, twelve, and seven, right?" Kenny asked.

"Sorry," Kyle said.

"At least have the decency to dignify me with an answer man, you just fucking ruined me. I had to record that final tape five times before it was good enough to use. I swear to god, normally I'd cut you some slack and now you know why, but not this time," Kenny spat sharply, "So, you listened to those tapes, right?"

"Yep, the four that you listed," Kyle said, his attempt to stay professional just made him sound stiff and disjointed.

This time Kenny faltered before speaking, "And your opinions on them?"

"Positive," Kyle answered with faster than a bullet. His tail flicked as he spoke.

"Anything else?" Kenny asked, desperation heavy on his voice. Thick like molasses.

"I think I imprinted on you- which means something different then it does for the ducks!" Kyle was quick to backtrack on his words, Kenny just looked intrigued, "My species has a 'thats the one' instinct. If we find the right person, it activates, and according to my parents at least, it's usually subliminal. When we landed, I imprinted on you- so, to me, you're the one. And for all I know, unless you die and stay dead, that stupid ass hormonal flux won't go down."

Kenny stayed silent.

"I'm stuck fixating on you until one of us dies, my kind mates for life, and unless I submit myself to experimental science the animal part of my brain is gonna keep screaming that you're mine. Which is kind of annoying, and dumb, and gets in the way- and I didn't even realize it until I found that first tape. I've just been infatuated with you since grade four and I don't know how to make it stop," Kyle spilled, some words meshing together in a blend of syllables. Cyan progressively rose to his face the entire time he spoke. He dropped down to the ground, facing away from Kenny and towards the water, "I'm so fucking sorry Kenny."

Kenny took a few tentative steps closer to where Kyle sat, his tail lay curled around him yet limp on the ground. His ears were drooping a bit and he looked ashamed of himself, a little bit distraught at that. "I'm not gonna disown you, Kyle. That'd just be fucking stupid."

"I didn't mean to ruin your life man, you could've been scoring. God, I probably scared off so many people without even realizing it," Kyle choked out weakly. He pressed his nails into the heel of his palm, "I swear I didn't mean to imprint on you. I swear man- I can try and suppress it."

"It's fine, Kyle," Kenny said as he crouched down beside Kyle. He bumped their shoulders together.

No response.

Okay, that was worrying. It struck a particular chord in the depths of Kenny's chest. One very, very similar to the 'my sister is hurt' chord, which unlocks a specific subset of reactions. Those reactions include:

A: Unbridled violence on whoever caused this B: Giving tried and true advice C: Terrible jokes and playful punches D: Just listening with or without a glass of warm milk

None of those options seem optimal, so Kenny improvises.

"I mean, the whole 'imprint' thing doesn't bother me," Kenny said as he sat down behind Kyle. His knees were bent and he rested his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude I fucking ruined your life," Kyle got out quietly, his tail snapped to punctuate his sentence. It wrapped itself around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Beg to differ," Kenny said as he slowly raised his hands up. He gently placed them at the base of Kyle's skull, he tensed but didn't move. Kenny slowly rubbed circles in just behind Kyle's ears in the hopes it would calm him down.

Kyle leaned back into Kenny a bit, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Half of those tapes were me going off about how much I adore you and want you, Kyle. I know you have a brain in there, put it to some use," Kenny said, a small grin on his face as he spoke. He could feel Kyle start to purr, "Just think about it."

Kyle paused for a moment, to just let all of the data sink in. He felt like a total idiot when the conclusion formed in his head, "Oh."

"Yeah," Kenny answered with, "Good thing."

"I'm such a fucking idiot," Kyle said with a laugh on his voice. He squeezed a bit tighter around Kenny's leg, constricting, like a snake, "Can't wait to confirm my families suspicions."

"Do they think we're a thing?" Kenny asked as he combed his fingers through Kyle's hair.

Kyle nodded, "Probably, apparently I've been signalling some very, very vulgar and subtle things to you with my tail for the past six years. I didn't even notice my tail was moving half the time, but it was- mom and dad had to explain that to me which was fun."

"Did you stop?" Kenny asked.

"Naw, definitely not," Kyle answered with smugly, "You never knew anyways."

Kenny gives a hum, "I would say I was giving some vulgar signs myself, but humans don't have a good way to do that discretely."

"I've noticed," Kyle said, "I can read half of you like books with all the tells each of you have."

"Guess Ill have to be even more mysterious so the guys don't catch on," Kenny said as Kyle started to purr, the vibrations rapidly picking up in volume. It felt nice.

"They aren't idiots dude," Kyle said, "They'll catch on soon enough."

"Or we could just walk in there holding hands one day, wait for someone to point it out and go 'yeah we're dating now' and just act like nothing has changed," Kenny said, "Even if we don't go to the movies or eat out at restaurants- that'd be funny."

"We'll see what happens first," Kyle answered with. He holds his breath for a beat, "Love you, Kenny," There's a veritable depth to the words now.

"Love you, Kyle," Kenny answered with the same as he always has, Kyle just never noticed the subtext. He presses a brief kiss to Kyle's forehead.

-/-/-/-

Stan is the first one too notice that Kyle and Kenny are different. A good different though. They're more synced up on the field, better at silent communication, just predicting each other in general. It definitely benefits the team as a whole for the crime-fighting, but whether or not the development is good for the franchise is a whole other story.

He's the first one to ask around about it too.

"Hey Wendy, Kyle and Kenny-"

"Are acting off? I noticed," Wendy said, cutting Stan short with ease. She glanced up from her phone, "I'm already scouring about for details."

"Anything actually come up?" Stan asked.

Wendy shook her head, "Nope, you'd assume that there'd be something; but most searches are coming up dry."

"Worth a shot," Stan said with a sigh.

"You should go ask Craig, he's pretty close to Kenny," Wendy offered up and before she could finish her sentence Stan was looking for Craig.

He was sitting at his desk as usual, cruddy costume and all.

"Craig whats up with Kyle and Kenny?" Stan asked.

And without skipping a beat Craig answered with, "They're homosexuals, Stan."

"What?" Came Stan's dead response, words hollow and in disbelief.

Craig nodded to the aforementioned duo walking in, "Go ask why they're holding hands."

Stan faltered.

"Listen, if you're afraid I'm right you should've asked out Kyle sooner to avoid it," Craig blatantly accused, the words forced the air from Stan's lungs like a sucker punch.

Now aware that Craig is going to keep mentally gut punching him, Stan just heads on off to Kyle and Kenny. They are indeed holding hands, and Kyle's tail is wrapped around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Look, you two," Stan began with.

"Yeah man, what's up?" Kyle asked, and he's hiding a grin poorly. He's sure that it adds to the confusion Stan is displaying.

Kenny was right.

This is pretty fucking funny.

"How come you guys are holding hands?" Stan asked quietly.

"Kyle imprinted on me," Kenny said bluntly, "We're dating now."

"How long has this been going on for?" Stan asked.

Kyle shrugged, "A month, we were waiting for you guys to notice."

Craig gives a smug, "Told you so!" from his desk.

"Were you guys betting on what was happening?" Kenny asked, an undertone of a snicker to his voice.

"No, even if we did Craig would've won," Stan said spitefully.

Kyle grins a bit, "No need to be sour man, you can still break the news to Cartman, I'm sure it'll be hysterical to see his reaction."

"Dude. Let's go find Cartman," Kenny said eagerly, he was practically vibrating where he stood. Hes grinning that gap tooth grin, "I need to see his reaction right now."

"Wanna tag along?" Kyle asked, holding out a hand to Stan.

He refrained from taking it, "Totally man."

Craig sidles up beside the three of them, "I got a camera to record it."

#south park #south park k2 #sp k2 #south park fanfiction #south park fic #kysterion #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw mild gore #tw swearing #tw betrayal #as you all know i was once again staring at artwork by kennysdeadbody. as i usually do writing K2. specifically those kitenny doodles.#kite is really just a creature. big ol' cat. he purrs.#kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #small headcanon that craigs gaydar is off the motherfucking shits (also wanted to let him say faggot(I didnt))

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crow-caller · 9 months

Note

Wait you've met Philip Reeve? Omg what was he like? I recently re-read Fever Crumb a few months ago because I read it in high school and liked it a lot but I'd forgotten most everything, so I wanted to give it another go. I was very shocked when I got my (ebook) copy from the library and realized that this book was the first of a series, I had never known there were more books, my school library only had Fever Crumb. And THEN I noticed that it said "Mortal Engines" on the cover, and I was like WAIT THAT MOVIE WITH THE GIANT MOVING CITIES I USED TO SEE TRAILERS FOR IN THEATRES!? I was so shocked, I had never once connected them in my brain lol

Anyway I would love to know more about your experience with Philip Reeve :)

I've met him a few times! In a way. He's lovely! I went to my first BristolCon because I was such a mortal engines fan (I still am) I wanted to meet him and get my copy signed.

Which he did! And he pretty much always draws a little doodle, EXTREMELY FAST, too! <3 Though he has not been to a single bristolcon after that, he was in my city for something else and I got him to sign more for me.

A little hive monk <3

The last one has a bit of lead up, in terms of me finding a brand new copy of this cover version, famously the worst covers the series has ever had. I got him to sign it too.

....Hence the note.

I'll also say I've spoken to him a number of times online as well before this, though we're not pals or keep up. He followed me on twitter. As a big mortal engines fan, I contacted him and set up 3 different Q&A sessions on the fan discord server and moderated them, so I've had a bit more contact. He's just a very lovely charming man 100%.

(Oh man, I am so curious on your perspective because... it's so funny for people who read books out of order or don't know there's a sequel or in this case, read the later prequel series first. I would for example always suggest Mortal Engines first before reading Fever Crumb!)

#philip reeve #mortal engines #railhead

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 4 months

Text

Treasure - a Malevolent fic

John just keeps remembering the bad things first.

This one lands hard.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

---------

“Come on, English! You can keep up!” Parker needled, running without any effort at all, and it just wasn’t fair.

Arthur shot a look in his direction that communicated the profanity he couldn’t get the breath to speak.

“Faster!” Dis called.

“Faster or longer?” Parker called back. “He can’t do both!”

Dis considered. “Longer this time. Good call, Yang.”

“Thank me later,” Parker muttered to Arthur, deadpan.

“I… hate… you,” Arthur gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Parker grinned.

John and Sunny ignored them both.

Everyone’s exercise routine had changed; Faroe was still doing princess stuff, but Arthur and Parker now spent at least an hour walking and jogging and running, side by side (or at least, Arthur wasn’t too far behind), and Sunny and John were taking full advantage.

John loved it. More than he knew how to express. Because of Sunny, he finally didn’t feel so… alone.

[How has the poetry quest gone? Found anything you like yet?] Sunny said, tone somewhere between genuinely curious and gently teasing.

[Challenging because he’s so damn stubborn.] But John sounded pleased. [I’ve decided I’m going to bring Hastur into it. He owes me.]

Arthur tripped. Parker pulled him up. “Thanks,” Arthur muttered.

“Always, pal,” said Parker, and smacked him on the back too hard because it was funny.

“Fuck you.” Arthur grinned.

“Right back atcha.” Parker grinned, too.

[Impressive,] said Sunny. [I'm sure he will have a wealth of poetry to loan you; the Librarian should also be able to make some good recommendations, if Arthur doesn't get too suspicious.] Sunny chuckled, low. [How did you manage to get a favor from the King?]

[Because he failed to protect us, and I am going to use it.] There wasn’t even really any emotion in that statement. John saw an opening, a weakness, a sore spot, and planned to take it. That was all. [He’ll provide what I ask.]

[Would he not provide what you ask anyway?] Sunny replied, quietly puzzled.

John paused as though that hadn’t occurred to him. [I… well, I don’t know. I just don’t want to give him any ideas, and asking for erotic or romantic poetry for Arthur could do that.] It made sense. Who wouldn’t want Arthur?

Sunny, for one. [Does the King desire Arthur?] There was growing horror in Sunny's voice. [I don't know that I will be able to deal with THREE of you lusting after that noodle-man. Ugh.]

John huffed. [It’s not like you have to worry about it. Parker wants you. That’s clear. But Hastur’s marked my person—I mean, he has good taste, obviously—but I don’t trust him. He actually has a body to work with.] John growled a little.

Arthur was used to weird noises from his passenger during these times, and ignored it. “Gotta… gotta slow a bit.”

“Sure.” Parker relented, though his “slow” was still aggravatingly hoppy, as if he had to keep his heart rate up and just walking wouldn’t do it. “You sound like a damned broken bellows.”

Arthur raised his middle finger. Parker laughed.

[Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, that he’s marked,] Sunny said. [Hastur does appear to care for him. Perhaps not in the past, judging by what we heard, but certainly now.] Sunny let out a thoughtful sound. [I mean, assuming that Arthur isn’t too hung up on the idea of bodies in general, I think you’re safe; you do have a hand, after all.]

[And a foot. Up to the knee, actually.] John wasn’t boasting. He recited this with the unselfconscious pride of a child. [Not that it’s been worth much. When I try to take over that thing, we just fall down.] A beat. [Sometimes pretty hard.] Another beat. [We’ve fallen in a lot of holes.]

[What is it with that man and holes?] Sunny laughed. [I didn’t have anything but his eyes. That’s probably for the best.]

[Ha! My person doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He needs me.] John would preen, if he could. [It’s a miracle he’s alive at all. Anyway, I’ve decided the poetry will happen, and maybe… a song. We’ll see. I’m torn because…] He stopped.

[You can tell me.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you didn’t laugh at me before.]

“Sounding better,” Parker said.

“Just another minute,” Arthur whined.

Parker turned and glanced back. “Dis is tapping her foot.”

“She is?” Arthur sighed. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck!” He picked up the pace.

John let the silence stretch for a moment, hesitating. [It’s… it might be… bad?]

Sunny’s voice gentled. [You can tell me, John. I think… I think of everybody in all of Carcosa, you and I… we share… more than anybody else, in a way. Tell me anything.]

[I still don’t feel like ‘John,’] John said quickly as though afraid the words would be condemned. [And I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anybody. You don’t count, obviously.]

Sunny took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his voice was solemn. [I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you had taken the name back up.]

John sighed heavily. [I use it for him. It makes him feel… I don’t know, but it means a lot to him, I guess because I chose it myself, before the poison. I say guess because he sucks at explaining really emotional things.]

[He does.] Sunny paused, weighty, the kind of pause that John had learned meant he was ruminating. [...He… he wanted me to be John when we first met, you know. Mentioned someone called Lilly and everything. When that didn’t… jog my memory, or whatever it was he was hoping for, he…] Another sigh. [...I don’t want to say he ‘gave me’ my old name. It wasn’t a good thing when he called me Yellow. It’s like he was… denying me… any of the personhood you’d earned. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry you’re stuck with a name that doesn’t feel right. I understand that feeling. I… didn’t like my old name at all.]

John fell silent while Arthur puffed, silent while Arthur took a moment to bend over and gasp like a dying fish (“Wait! Just a fucking… come on, ”) as Parker lightly jogged around him.

“You gotta get in better shape,” said Parker.

Arthur held up his middle finger again. “Best I can.”

Parker had a look on his face John had seen; a look that said he was thinking something that made him mad, but whatever it was, Parker didn’t say it. “Gonna give you to the count of ten, then I’m carrying you like some dame in a dime novel.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Nine… eight… seven…”

Arthur got moving at the count of two. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Parker sounded pleased.

[The problem is I chose this name,] said John. [But I don’t remember doing it, nor do I remember this Lilly who inspired it. I don’t know what to do because I want to give him things I’ve created, but I can’t… put that name on them. Right now. It doesn’t feel right.]

[Names can change.] Sunny let out a low, mournful sound. [I was… I was Yellow for a long time, John. Almost nine years. I hated that name, but… ‘Yellow’ isn’t gone just because I’m Sunny, now. I just… I’m not him anymore, if that makes sense. If you wanted to use a different name, until you feel like John fits—or never, if the case may be—I think that’s understandable.]

[You don’t feel like Yellow to me.] John said earnestly.

[...Really?] Sunny said, low and stunned.

[You never have, as long as I’ve known you,] John said, oblivious to the profundity of his words.

“Fuck this,” said Arthur, interrupting the moment.

“Come on,” said Parker more gently, pulling him up. “Is it really that bad?”

“Stitch in my side won’t go away.”

“All right. We’ll walk the rest of the day. Fuck Dis,” said Parker, who could tell the difference between whining Arthur and exhausted Arthur. “Honestly? It’s fuckin’ amazing you can do this blind.”

“I’m not blind, though,” said Arthur. “Not really. I have John.”

[See? See? What in fuck do I do with that? I can’t take that name from him!]

[He doesn’t know any better.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you’re right: the name ‘John’ is important to him. It represents a lot. But it’s just a name. You’re still important, even if you don’t feel like being called that; and he loves you. That’s not going to change because you’ve decided to call yourself James or Fitzwilliam or something.]

John went quiet for a moment. [How are you so wise?] He asked, almost suspicious.

[Probably the eight years being called a name I hated by a person who also hated me,] Sunny said dryly. [Personally, I don’t recommend it. I feel like I’ve learned more in the… oh, year and a half or so I’ve been with Parker than I did in all of that time.]

John let out a deep, pleased rumble. [Are you sure you don’t want your praises sung properly before the court? I still think you should be.]

[If word gets out that Hastur has a Forgotten One, he’ll look weak,] Sunny said, which was not an answer at all. [It’s safer for all of us—me, you, Parker, Arthur, Hastur, Faroe—if I stay hidden. Besides, it would be silly to do so if I’m going to rejoin with Hastur in five years or so.]

John sighed. That was a whole topic he didn’t like, so he moved along. [What do you think I should call myself?] he said.

Sunny considered. [Do you feel like human names? Or is that too close to John?]

[I don’t think I want a human name, no. Even if it’s just for me, and I don’t tell Arthur. I’m not human.] He hesitated. [I still think of myself as the King in Yellow. But that obviously won’t work.]

[You… you could, if you wanted to.] Sunny sounded very much like he hoped John wouldn’t want to. [You know, I could use your personal name, if you wanted. If that would help you feel more yourself.]

Arthur’s left hand formed a fist and raised into the air as if celebrating. [That’s brilliant!]

Parker eyed it.

Arthur tilted his head. “Everything good?”

Yes! said John.

Arthur shook his head. “They’re like a couple of kids in their room, scheming, while we do the real work.”

Parker snorted.

[I… I’m not brilliant,] Sunny said, baffled. [I—alright, I will. You just have to decide on one, then. And when you’re ready, you can tell Arthur and Parker, and we’ll handle it.] He rumbled. [Maybe… something in R’lyehian? Most names for our kind come from our language, you know.]

Dis had caught up. “Down to walking?”

“Yeah, he’s tapped,” said Parker.

“Good. Time to shoot,” said Dis.

“Wh-what?” said Arthur, gasping. “Now?”

“Take aim and shoot.” She shoved a bow and arrow against his chest. “Like this. Before you catch your breath. People in a fight won’t wait politely while you wheeze.”

“Ooh,” said Parker. “I like that.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess I’m outnumbered. Ready, John?”

Yes. [And yes. I agree.]

The conversation paused briefly while John directed, helping Arthur to take aim with his new bow (and how the hell Faroe made it look so easy was a mystery in itself). They’d done it with a javelin; it was a different thing with a different weapon, all while Arthur hadn’t caught his breath yet.

The breathing kept moving Arthur, throwing off their aim.

You have to breathe out and hold it. Just for a moment, while you release, or it goes off.

“Right,” said Arthur.

Yes. Yes! Straight line from the opposite shoulder. Good.

“Wow!” Parker said. “Hit the target!”

“I have a great partner,” said Arthur, warmly, and touched his left hand. “You’re a treasure, John.”

Dis took the bow. “Walk.”

Arthur did, shaking his fingers. “I’m going to need callouses.”

“I’ll join you next time,” said Parker, walking with him. “Damn, that was cool to watch.”

[Yes,] John said suddenly. [In my own tongue. Yes.]

[Well,] Sunny said, deeply pleased with himself. [I think Arthur just gave me an idea.]

[I’m all ears. Haha! I don’t have any ears,] said John.

Sunny politely chuckled. [It’s simple, snappy. Can shorten it for a nickname if you want. It’s golden, so it works even better. And, technically, Arthur gave it to you, so it has meaning.] Sunny’s voice was bright, cheerful. [What do you think of Gokar’luh?]

John went completely quiet.

Arthur’s left leg jerked, and he fell with a gasp.

Parker caught him. “Hey, careful! You okay?”

Arthur’s left arm hung limp. “John?”

I…

“John?” said Arthur again, standing.

It’s a beautiful name, John said softly..

John?

You don’t… remember. Do you.

Remember what? Sunny’s voice was puzzled. Are you alright?

A beautiful name, John said again. We… we picked that name before, Sunny. When we were one.

“Huh?” said Parker.

“John?” Arthur gripped his left hand. “What name? What’s going on?”

And John growled.

This wasn’t the playful, childish growl of before. This was deep, and angry. The kind of growl that came with destruction. We need to go in. All of us. Sunny, we need to find Hastur. This doesn’t get borne alone.

Did I do something wrong? Sunny’s voice went worried. John? I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.

No. You did not. John’s voice dropped. He did.

“Who did what?” said Parker. “Arthur? You know what’s going on?”

“No. I…” Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand them, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

Parker reached up and stroked his jaw. “It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”

HASTUR! John roared, and there was magic in it, and he hadn’t warned Arthur, and maybe didn’t care.

Arthur passed out.

Parker caught him. “What the fuck?”

And maybe, in fact, it was on purpose. That’ll get his fucking attention! John snarled.

What the fuck, John? Sunny’s insubstantial breath came in panicky gasps. Why?

“What the hell is going on here?” said Dis, jogging up.

“I don’t know! John’s lost his fucking mind!” Parker said.

It was necessary, John snapped.

Parker’s jaw was set. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have a way to deck you.”

No! Sunny yelped. No, no, don’t—don’t fight! Please, let me wake Arthur up and we can just—we can figure it out, please—

Hastur appeared, replacing air so quickly that breeze blasted them all back a step. The world went still. Sound faded out; color did, too, as though he’d put reality on pause.

He seemed huge, and he brought some kind of boundary with him—clear and pearlescent, like a soap bubble, keeping Arthur and Parker and Sunny and John in one place.

Dis was on the outside of whatever this bubble was. She mouthed, good luck, gave Parker a thumbs-up, and walked away at speed.

“Oh, shit,” Parker said quietly, staring up at him.

“Is there a reason,” Hastur said slowly, and they could both feel the rumble of his voice through the ground, “that you have chosen to hurt your host?”

Yes, said John. And first of all, he’s not fucking hurt. He’s out, because I don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Parker was muttering.

Sunny let out a small whimper.

“In the middle of?” prompted Hastur, louder.

Gokar’luh, said John.

And Hastur… shrank?

Not exactly. But the anger evaporated like mist in the morning, the rumbling around them ceased, the looming threat just… vanished. The bubble disappeared. Birds chirped. The day was lovely.

“Ah,” said the King in Yellow.

Ah? Ah? John repeated.

Parker frowned. “Gokar’luh. I know that word. Treasure?” he said. “Uh. Buried, or…”

“You remember,” said Hastur to John. It wasn’t a question.

I remember enough. Sunny doesn’t yet. But I’m sure he will.

Arthur stirred.

Hastur rested one hand on his head and put him right back under.

Ha! said John, as if he’d been proven right.

“What in fuck is going on?” said Parker.

“I suppose it cannot be avoided,” Hastur said softly, and without any further warning, picked them both up.

Parker yipped. “Warn a guy!”

What—what don’t I remember? Sunny whispered.

“Uh. Hey. Big guy. We, uh. Are we in trouble?” said Parker.

“No,” said Hastur, and flew.

Arthur slept. Honestly, he probably needed it.

They went to Hastur’s bedroom, which was huge. Absurdly huge, though Parker knew that was for practical purposes; couldn’t get up to much with another god if it wasn’t huge in there, just practically speaking.

Sunny was quiet, but there, present, awake. Parker kept contact, fingertips on his jaw. Parker’s tongue lashed in his mouth; Sunny twisted incorporeally in his head.

Arthur snored very lightly. It was cute. Hastur laid him gently on the bed.

Answer for what you did, you coward, said John.

Instead of answering, Hastur took Arthur up again—still holding Parker—and went to a seemingly random corner in his room.

It turned out he had a little secret stash there, hidden in the wall. From it, he took something; something of spikes, something black that gleamed as if twisting light inside itself, something Parker had trouble focusing clearly on.

“What is that?” Parker said, voice low and wary.

In his head, Sunny gasped. Is… Is that a crown? Of godblood? His voice was low with shock, the disbelief clear. Hastur… what is this?

Hastur put the crown in Parker’s hands.

Parker froze. “The fuck?” he whispered. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Go on,” said Hastur.

Parker turned it in his hands, studying, analyzing how it buzzed against his palm. “It feels like the first time Sunny cast magic through me.”

What? Said Sunny, soft and high.

“Fucking hell, Hastur, what is this?”

“That is the crown of my son.”

Parker’s eyes went huge.

Sunny was quiet.

You fucking… John started.

“Sunny… you had… you had a kid?” Parker said almost reverently.

S… son? Sunny’s voice was soft, raw and vulnerable and shocked. We… We have a son?

Had, snarled John.

And Hastur just… went there. “He was going to kill Faroe and Arthur.”

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered. “Why was he going to do that?”

“To hurt me.”

Wh… What? Sunny sounded so small, so lost. Why would—I don’t understand.

“Was he jealous?” said Parker quietly.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “But I had driven him away long before then.” He took the crown back, handling it like the most precious thing he had; his many eyes lingered, one finger gently tracing the glassy planes of its points.

John was breathing hard. You killed him!

“I had to.”

You killed… you killed him!

“You don’t remember anything but that moment, do you?” said Hastur.

I… I had a son, Sunny whispered slowly. I had… But I don’t… His breath quickened.

“I got you,” Parker murmured. “Breathe.”

I had a son! Sunny hitched.

Parker was staring at the little hole in the wall. “What’s that in there? There’s more stuff.”

“Things.” Hastur sealed it up.

Murderer! John cried.

This had swung right out of control. Parker exhaled slowly and touched his lips.

Hastur sighed deeply. “I hadn’t planned on this today. We will go over all the facts later, including the public face we must wear about this.”

I won’t be an issue, Sunny said, his voice… broken. I don’t remember. I’m… sorry.

But you… John seemed confused that no one was rising with him in rage and shouting. But you killed him!

“I was not given a choice,” said Hastur.

“At least you got to be a father,” said Parker quietly. “Some of us’ll never get that chance. I’m sorry it went that way.”

But you… John stopped.

I’m sorry, Sunny said again.

“Don’t be.” Hastur’s voice was rough. “Arthur was there. He’ll have his own version of this to tell. Perhaps… you should all stay away from court today.”

But you… John trailed off again. In court? What, you want me to pretend this is a good thing? That you killed our son?

And Hastur bailed.

He put both humans on the bed, gently enough, and then just left . Floated out. Left them in his bedroom.

Coward! John cried after him, voice cracking, and then fell silent.

Arthur snored, the tiniest little buzzing.

Fuck me, Parker thought, and swallowed. Did this make him the responsible adult in the room? Close enough. He tried misdirection. He wriggled a little. “Now, this is a bed for a king, huh? Hey, Lester. Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He patted Arthur’s cheeks lightly.

Parker’s eyes stung, but the tears were not his own. I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, Sunny mumbled as they spilled down Parker’s cheeks. He’s… I don’t…

“Hey,” Parker said. “Sunny, it’s… you’re okay. I’m here, bud.”

I don’t remember my own son. Sunny made one small, pained keening sound.

He… he was… John stumbled. Gokar’luh was…

“Proud,” whispered Arthur. “Like Hastur without Faroe. You remembered?”

John sounded shaky. Yes, he whispered. But only the end.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, then slid his hands over the blankets beneath him. “This isn’t our bed. Where are we?”

“Hastur’s bed, no big deal,” said Parker. “Talk.”

Arthur looked troubled. “That’s really ironic,” he said softly. “The night it all happened, we came back here. We slept in this room.”

Gods don’t sleep, John snapped as though catching him in a lie.

“Faroe and I slept. Nibbles was here, and…” Arthur sighed. “I’d better start at the end of the Games. I guess it’s time to talk about this.”

Arthur told them.

He told them about Faroe reacting to their constant bickering by running off, blaming herself.

He told them about their journey through the Dreamlands, their many adventures, always just behind her, fighting to catch up; he told them about Hastur changing—about Hastur away from the constant adoration of court. About finally finding peace, even respect, between the three of them. About the strange, simple beauty of being stuck alone on the road.

He told them Hastur’s version of events when the Oracle was cast aside.

And then he told them what the Oracle claimed.

“Oh,” said Parker, who could see it, who had always been good at seeing from all sides, and could see how everybody fucked up and there was no good or bad guy.

It was just sad. Fucking sad. He wiped his eyes, this time for himself.

Arthur struggled to describe the sound of Faroe’s throat being torn, struggled to describe the pain of his legs being snapped, of John casting magic, of the desperation to reach Nibbles and free her so Faroe could be okay.

He healed her, said John, suddenly remembering.

“He did,” said Arthur. “Or she’d be dead.” And then he had to briefly stop, shuddering and gasping for emotional control.

Parker wrapped an arm around him and hugged him tight, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb.

Arthur turned against him and breathed against his shoulder, exhaling slowly and shakily. Finally, softly, he continued.

He told them how heroic John had been. He told them of drawing the sword from the stone.

We did? said John, awed.

“You’re incredible, John,” Arthur whispered, and meant it.

John made a choked sound and fell silent.

Arthur told them about climbing the rubble and leaping toward their enemy—how John directed him like a human javelin, how they managed to pierce Gokar’luh’s hide. “Then he ripped us off him, howling like a demon,” Arthur said, voice rough, “and he threw us so fucking hard. So hard it made my neck hurt. So hard… it was worse than falling. He threw us so hard .”

“He was trying to kill you,” Parker said, voice low and full of gravel. “Smash the both of you.”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know this part, but I’m still sure of it,” he whispered. “I think they were both… done. They needed it to end, but they were both too fucking proud to just… end it. Or at least, Gokar’luh was. Hastur kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“I think I know where this is going,” whispered Parker.

Arthur swallowed. “Gokar’luh said, ‘All this time, you could have changed… but not for me.’ After that is… he… was trying to force Hastur to kill him. I’m really certain.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, and scowled. “I swear. I swear . These fucking gods pretend to be so different from us, but they’re not.”

“So yes,” Arthur said. “He tried to kill us. And when Hastur saved us, Gokar’luh swore he’d murder Faroe. That there was nowhere she would be safe, he said. He’d find her, and kill her. No matter how long it took. And that’s the thing about Hastur, Parker. He’s done horrible things, but he really loves my daughter. So that… Gokar’luh had found the magic button. He’d already nearly killed her once, and the threat of a repeat was just too far. So that’s when Hastur took the sword we’d made, and…”

Killed him. John took a shaking breath. Pierced both of his hearts in one strike. He knew exactly where they were, and he just—and he—

Arthur took John’s hand in his, holding it to his heart as he squeezed. “Hastur held him while… while he died. They said… Hastur said he was defeated. That Gokar’luh had won. And… that he loved him. I think f,or what it was, it couldn’t have gone any other way, but it could have been… so much worse.”

Parker wiped his eyes again. “Worse.”

“Hastur was so fucked up after that,” said Arthur. “We got Faroe, and we came home, but he was so fucked up. He was like a different person.” And there was no better time to say it. “I think he’s still fucked up. He’s hiding it, but he’s not okay. He hasn’t gotten better.”

“Fuck.” Parker slumped, arms on his knees. “Fuck. When was all this?”

And perhaps unexpected, Arthur laughed; it was not a good sound. “The night Kayne dumped you and Sunny and Larson all into our laps and said we had to make a good show. Literally hours after, right on the stroke of midnight—Faroe’s birthday.”

Parker groaned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, fucking hell, no wonder you were bugfuck crazy. And that’s why Hastur had to…”

“Sway me. Yes.” Arthur swallowed.

Parker exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and stretched his arms over his head onto the pillow bigger than his bathtub. “This is a big problem, fellas. A big problem.”

I’m sorry, John, Sunny whispered, the sound heart-wrenching. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m sorry you had… to remember, like that.

John was so quiet. I just remembered the moment, the… the moment it was too late . That’s all I had. It was too late. He was dying.

“I don’t know that remembering the context would have made it better,” Arthur said quietly. “You were so angry at Hastur afterward. You were for a long time.”

I am angry now, John said. Fuck. But I don’t know what I would have done in his place.

“Wait a second,” said Parker. “That can’t be the same Oracle they were all laughing about Hastur smashing in court. Tell me it’s not the same one, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed slowly. “If Hastur looks weak, if it becomes known how he reacted to threat against Faroe, if any of this gets out… we all get a target painted right on our fucking faces. Especially Faroe. She’s the most vulnerable, and he won’t risk that. For all his awful qualities… he’ll never risk her .”

Fuck this place. Fuck it. Fuck!

Parker let out a sigh. “That’s just mobsters for you. They show weakness, someone’s gonna come gunnin’ for that as hard as they can. You got targeted ‘cause he’s been calling you his kid, John, and that’s not a weak position.”

John paused. I know that. Though it sounded like it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. And Faroe is… a child . I can see why we must… defer attention.

“Faroe stays safe.” Arthur’s tone was grim, final. “Period. I’m united with him on that.”

Yes, yes, I know, said John, because they’d been over this loads of times.

“I fucking mean it,” Arthur actually snarled. “Whatever has to happen for her to be safe, it’s happening. ”

“Ain’t no one arguing that,” Parker said gently. “It’s okay, English. For once, everyone’s in agreement.”

Arthur calmed.

Parker climbed out of the bed, stood, and held open his arms. “Come ‘ere, English. This’s for you too, John. And you, sunshine.”

Arthur needed it. Sore, slow, he climbed out of the bed, following Parker’s voice, and accepted a hug so tight it made his bones crack. He exhaled slowly, tension draining. “John, I’m so sorry you remembered this way.��

John hesitated. At least I remembered when we weren’t in public view. I don’t think I could’ve… maintained myself if this had happened in court, or something.

You’re not upset with me, are you? Sunny’s voice was so small.

John grunted. No. Why would I be upset with you? You helped me. You’re the wisest person I know. I trust you.

This… has hurt you. It was my doing, however unintentional. Sunny’s voice was subdued. I am… It is… It’s a relief to know you don’t hold it against me. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m… I’m glad you’re here.

Parker smiled, giving Arthur another tight squeeze before letting go, and he turned away. “You alright, partner?” he asked, voice quiet.

I… don’t know, Sunny replied in his own whisper. Could we stay a bit longer?

Parker smiled, touching his lips.

John? Could… could Parker and I stay a bit longer?

I’d prefer it if you did. We need the wisdom.

Arthur snorted softly, but didn’t seem really dismissive. “Yeah. Wisdom. I can’t say we don’t need it.” He got back on the bed (well, climbed onto it), and sat with his arms around his knees.

I don’t know that I’m up for any more wisdom today, Sunny said, quietly.

Just be you . John was so sure of this.

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Parker hesitated just a little, then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

Sunny took a shuddering breath, and began to speak.

This is my son that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken, Never again to speak or waken.

This, that I gave my life to make, This you have bidden the vultures break— Dead for your selfish quarrel’s sake!

This that I built all of my years, Made with my strength and love and tears, Dead for pride of your shining spears!

Just for your playthings bought and sold You have crushed to a heap of mold Youth and life worth a whole world’s gold—

This was my son, that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken— This—that shall never speak or waken.

John let out a soft sob.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, letting John’s tears fall onto Parker’s shoulder—and, head down, he responded.

“Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.”

Fuck you both, John choked out.

Sunny laughed, voice thick with tears; in a moment John joined him, the two bass voices rising and falling with their sobs and laughs. Arthur held Parker tight, face buried against his shoulder, and Parker held all three of them as best he could until they grew quiet and still.

-------

Notes:

Sunny's Poem: A Mother To The War-Makers Arthur's Poem: Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep) Kraiva would like to dedicate this fic to IchthyOccult, who has been dutifully reminding everyone of how neither John nor Sunny knew their son was dead since John lost his memories. You're a little freak, Ichthy, and I love you.

#malevolent #surrogate series #surrogate fic #malevolent fic #malevolent au #arthur lester #parker yang #sunny | yellow malevolent #hastur malevolent

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