#like what better way to study something you like than to work within it's bounds for the most part?

[lyril]

i feel like not enough people use writing fanfiction as a way to like... study and learn? outside of it being more practice and things. like sure, this is for entertainment first and foremost, but for me keeping the writing tone and characterization as accurate as i can to then transform it more into a writing style to create something good just ends up in me like, intensely studying the source material. i don't ever go off of memory i fucking break that shit down, study dialogue patterns and write down literally everything the characters i'm writing for say, observe the structure and themes and tone of whatever i'm looking at, watch and analyze things until i'm sick of them and come out a better writer because of that hands-on observation and because i simply fucking hate when other people go off of memory while writing characters i like ❤️

[sundrop-writes]

are you currently open to doing reactions for teen wolf characters? cause if you are i’d love to see how you think stiles & allison would react to seeing a fem reader naked by accident hehe

yeah, as it says in my Rules, I love doing reactions and MLTs (especially cause they're fun, shorter fics that I can write quickly in order to get to know the characters better. they're a lot of fun)

so here we go

Requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN!!! Please read the rules first, though <3 also vote in this poll if you like Teen Wolf fics

How would Stiles Stilinski and Allison Argent react to seeing you naked by accident?

Warnings: mentions of sex/arousal/sexual desire (characters wanting to fuck the reader after seeing them naked), sexual themes but no explicit smut, reader is described as having breasts/is called a 'girl', mentions of Scott/Allison, mentions of Jackson/Reader (background, unimportant), mentions of the reader taking nudes/nude pictures, Allison's section is way longer than Stiles's oops (but that's because I've never written for her before and I got excited).

Stiles would be coming to visit you on a random Saturday - something that he did often. And after letting himself in with his spare key and bounding up the stairs to your room, he would hear music coming from your room and think nothing of simply letting himself in. He could imagine that you were cutely dancing in your pajamas, using your hairbrush as a microphone - something that he would tease you for, but secretly loved.

He hadn't even thought to knock. The two of you were so close - best friends since you were in diapers, having grown up together, gone through everything together.

So when he opened the door and found you standing at the foot of your bed, naked, rubbing lotion over your skin almost sensually - a towel in a rumple at your feet as you had clearly just gotten out of the shower - in seconds, it changed his entire perspective of you. Seeing your gorgeous breasts, the roundness of your thighs, the perfect swell of your ass, the softness of your stomach - it put nothing but downright filthy images in his mind. And in seconds, you went from being his dorky childhood friend to a woman he now desperately wanted to fuck.

He didn't get to stand there for long and stare before you noticed him, but the image of you so beautifully bared was easily seared into his mind forever.

"Stiles?!" You screamed when you noticed him in the doorway, and he felt so terribly caught.

His instinct was to turn and run, but he was dumb from the amount of blood pooling in his cock. He tripped over his own feet and rammed headfirst into the doorway - hard. He became dizzy from the hit fell to the floor within seconds, groaning loudly in pain (and embarrassment) as he clutched the bruise blooming on his forehead.

You rushed to pick up your towel to cover yourself, and then rushed to see if he was okay.

"Oh my god, Stiles." You sighed, kneeling down by his side. "What is wrong with you?"

Well, he could add 'intense sexual desire for his best friend' to that list now.

Allison loved having you over at her place. Between the chaos of dating and not-dating someone that her family had vowed to kill, and being trained by that family to kill others of his kind in the most traumatic and tiring way possible - you were a breath of fresh air in her life. You were the soothing relaxation she needed among the chaos.

She invited you over as often as possible because of this. Whether it was dinner with her family, studying, sleepovers where the two of you talked all night and ate junk food - you were over at her house often. Her family knew that the two of you were the best of friends, and they loved you because you were a smart, respectable, normal girl.

On this night, the two of you were having a regular study session. Nothing special - just sitting on her bed going over some homework. More so, enjoying each other's company in quiet while you worked individually.

"Do you have the notes that Mr. Hoffman wrote down today?" Allison asked you, looking up from her book. "I know he didn't want us to do all the problems, but I can't remember which numbers he wrote on the board."

"I took a picture of it." You told her, unlocking your phone and passing it to her. "Just flip through my camera roll, you'll find it. I gotta pee."

You slid off the bed and left her room for the bathroom, and she opened your camera roll looking for the picture of the blackboard that you had taken. She grinned when she saw that the first picture was of a random squirrel that you had seen outside during lunch. Very you.

Then - a picture of Stiles making an ugly face. Of course. He had stolen your phone during lunch. Then - Scott and Stiles. More Scott and Stiles. Then, pictures of your outfit that you had taken in the bathroom that morning at school. Then - wait, what?

A picture of you naked.

Allison's insides tensed.

It was a gorgeous picture of you, and though she felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that she knew she wasn't supposed to see it, she couldn't stop staring. You were laying on your bed, the morning sun pouring in through the curtains - it had probably been taken before school that morning. The picture showed everything from your collar bones to the tops of your thighs, your arm holding the camera high up to get a good angle of your amazing body.

Your breasts relaxed and your nipples peaked (it had to be from you teasing them up for the picture and not from the cold air, your room was always soft and cozy), your stomach so wonderfully soft, your pussy on display - showing off the dusting of pubic hair that you had their. Your knees pressed together, presenting your thighs in a soft, alluring position.

It made Allison's throat dry.

Before she could even think to keep looking for what she had actually needed, you came back into the room.

"Hey," You grinned at her as you moved to sit by her feet at the end of the bed. "You find it."

One thing that Allison knew by now - lying was useless and something she absolutely hated. You were one person in her life that she upheld honesty with as her greatest treasure.

"No." She said, taking a moment to re-moisten her mouth with saliva before she continued. "But - I found this."

She turned the phone screen toward you and your jaw dropped slightly before snapping shut again with a harsh sound.

"Oh." You breathed out. "That." You paused for a moment. "I - uh. Sorry you had to see that."

You took back your phone from her and locked it, staring at the floor with shame.

"I'm not." Allison said quickly. "You - you look beautiful."

It would be a few days before you fully unpacked what she had meant by this. Even Allison herself still hadn't fully acknowledged that she felt anything more than friendship for you.

You nodded. "Thank you." You took another moment. "I - just - I'm sorry it's awkward."

Allison nodded. She wasn't sure why she didn't feel as awkward as you did.

"Well - who was it for?" She couldn't help but to wonder.

She could only assume that you had taken the picture with the intention to send it to someone.

"Um, well... it was for Jackson." You told her.

The two of you had been texting a lot more frequently since he had broken up with Lydia.

Allison frowned.

"You are way too good for him." She insisted.

And that was the comment that stuck in your mind - that truly got you thinking about what your relationship with Allison meant.

[birdiewritessometimes]

Hello, can i request for draco x reader where draco is madly in love with the reader but the reader likes someone else. Draco always tried his chances but reader always rejected him. One day, the guy that reader liked chose the reader’s best friend instead of her. Draco is the only one who comforted her and eventually they both end up together

After all this time

A/N: Hiii! I'm so sorry for the wait! I adored this request, and I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! <3

Summary: Draco has been in love with you for a long time, will he finally get you when no one is there to comfort you after a heart break?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Themes/warnings: fluff, bad friends, heart break, longing, pining, lovesick Draco, kissing, if there is any more, please let me know x

Word count: 1900-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

Draco’s infatuation with you had started around fourth year. When he had seen you in that beautiful silver gown, your hair up to show off your neck and shoulders, he had been quite literally floored. He remembered how he had felt bad for his date, Pansy, because his eyes had been on your gracious figure the whole evening as you had danced with one of the Durmstrang boys. The grass had just turned that particular shade of spring green when he had worked up the courage to ask you on a date. He had caught up with you as you had made your way towards the castle after a lesson in care of magical creatures. Your hair had glistened in the spring sun as it swayed in the wind. Your usual group of friends weren’t around you, making it the perfect opportunity for Draco to ask you out. He had strutted up to you, his usual air of arrogance around him, trying to hide his nervousness behind a façade of bravado.

“Y/n” he said to get your attention, you had turned around, a quizzing look on your face, “how about I take you out on a nice date to Hogsmeade next weekend?” He had suggested, a small smirk on his face as his eyes sparkled with hope.

“Oh,” you had let out, a sympathetic look on your face, “I’m sorry Draco.” You had said. Before you could’ve said anything else he had let out a loud, laugh and a quick ‘never mind’ before darting away, not letting you finish.

That was the first time Draco had asked you out. He thought it was the last as well, but boy was he wrong. He found himself trying his luck every now and then. But every time you had said no. You always had the same explanation; you liked someone else and it wouldn’t be fair to him. He understood that he really did. What he didn’t understand was what he didn’t understand was why you couldn’t give him a chance to prove to you that he could treat you a million times better than anyone else at Hogwarts could. You were now both in your sixth year and Draco’s feelings for you hadn’t subsided one bit. In fact, they had just become stronger. He found that you became more beautiful as time ticked on, that smile that he liked so much became more vibrant with each summer and his heart beating faster with every look at you.

He was seated in the library; it was a quiet afternoon in mid-December. To anyone who didn’t know him it seemed like he was studying hard, various leather-bound books scattered around the wooden table. To anyone who knew Draco knew that he was probably to busy staring at you. You were sitting on a table with you best friend across the little secluded part in the library. The two of you were talking about something which was making you frown increase the longer the conversation went on. He swears he didn’t try to listen in on your conversation, he just happened to be within hearing distance.

“He asked you out? And you said yes?” You asked, your voice breaking as you spoke. Draco could feel his heart sink as your voice sounded increasingly sad with each word you spoke.

“So, what if I did? Honestly, y/n, he isn’t your boyfriend.” Your friend said back in a snarky voice. Draco felt his blood boil, because who was she to talk to you like that? Every fibre in his body was screaming at him to go over there to tear into your so-called friend for speaking to you like that.

“No, I just thought-”

“You thought what, that I would pass up a chance with him just because you like him.” Your friend interrupted you, her voice cold, a vindictive smirk on her face. Draco had never wanted to wipe a smirk away from someone’s face as much as he wanted now. Not even Potter could tick him off like this girl, that was supposed to be your friend, was doing right now. He saw the heartbroken look you had on your face as you stood up and excused yourself. Hugging your books to your chest you headed out of the library with hurried steps.

Before Draco could react, he was on his feet, walking after you. His own books under his arms. He didn’t care about putting back the library books. He burst into the corridor, gaining a few apprehensive looks from the students lingering there. His heart was beating rapidly as he looked around for you to no avail. Listening intently, he heard your soft sniffles from a deserted corridor to the right. Approaching the corner slowly he peaked around the corner and saw you sitting against the wall, your books still clutched tightly against your chest as tears streamed down your face. Seeing you look so sad made him want to go back in the library and tear your friend a new one. But he slowly rounded the corner, walking carefully towards you. Hearing his footsteps, you looked up at him. He felt his heart break and blood boil simultaneously when he saw you so sad, so broken against the cold stone floor.

“Not now Draco.” You mumbled, your voice fragile. He continued to walk towards you until he was right beside you. He slid down the chilly stone wall, his arms embracing you to let your cry into his chest. He rubbed your arms and back to give you some comfort and warmth.

“Shh, I’m sorry, princess.” He mumbled as he gently rubbed your arm while you cried into his chest. You sat like that for a while, you sobbing, him rubbing your arm in a comforting way. He was gently rocking you side to side as a way to calm you down. If anyone had asked Draco about his romantic life, he could’ve never had predicted that he would comfort the girl he was so desperately in love with for a heartache she suffered from another guy, but here he was, and he would do it again in a heartbeat.  

“Do you want to tell me about?” He asked gently when you had calmed down slightly. He could feel his heart beat hard in his chest at the look you were giving him, your eyes big and vulnerable as you looked up at him in his arms. Your hand came up to wipe your tears from under your eyes.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you.” You said, your usually soft voice now hoarse. He smiled gently down at you. The thought that you looked good in his arms crossed his mind as he watched you intently. What he would give to be able to hold you like this all the time.

“Don’t worry about it, princess, I want to hear you talk about anything and everything, even if it is about another guy.” He said softly as his thumb came up to caress your cheek. You looked at him, stunned at his admission. He smiled at you; a gentle smile people rarely saw.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good guy, Draco?” You mumbled softly. He was sure you could feel his heartbeat now, there was no way you wouldn’t be able to. He felt his heart swell from your words. He was so in love with you it was painful. Any complement from you and he could feel it echo through his whole body.

“I might’ve heard it once or twice.” He said lightly, making you let out a hoarse chuckle. It made his smile widen into a full, broad smile.

“There’s that beautiful laugh.” He said while tucking a strand of your soft hair behind your ear. He saw how your cheeks turned the cutest shade of pink, if he was standing up, he was sure his knees would fail him as you looked up at him, your eyes wide, a blush dusting your cheeks. He was smiling broadly down at you, making you smile slightly back up at him. Without thinking he placed a kiss on your forehead, which felt so incredibly natural to him. He looked at your face again, you looked stunned but slowly a small smile made its way onto your lips.

“Thank you for being there, when no one else was.” You said softly. He was looking into your eyes, those eyes he found so incredibly beautiful.

“Always.” He breathed out as his eyes flickered to your soft looking lips. He saw how they parted as you let out an exhale. His eyes flickered up to yours again as his heart was beating out of his chest with nerves. He could hear the background noise fade as he sat there with you in his arms. He noticed how close you were now making him feel how his blood was rushing through his veins as his eyes was mapping out your face.

“Please kiss me.” You whispered. Draco felt his heart stop for a moment before his hand found your cheek, caressing it softly. He slowly leaned in, embracing the moment as he thought his heart would beat out of his chest. The moment his lips met yours everything stopped. His heartbeat, his nerves, his breath, he thought he might’ve died and gone to heaven. Your lips were softer than he ever could’ve imagined as he kissed you slowly. You kissed him back immediately, your lips tentative and gentle. His hand moved to the back of your neck, to caress the soft skin there making you let out an appreciative sound against his lips. This is how he realised that he did in fact not die, that this was reality. When you broke apart after a while you were sitting there, smiles on your faces as you looked into each other’s eyes. When Draco had opened his mouth to say something you had placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

“Before you say anything I would like to say something,” you said softly before continuing, “I’m sorry for always rejecting you, you are amazing, Draco, if you still would like, I would love to go on a date with you, as long as we go slow.” You finished, a vulnerable note in your voice as you looked up at him. A wide smile spread on his face as his arms circled around your waist hoisting you up in his lap, making you let out a laugh in surprise.

“Slow is fine with me as long as I can keep kissing you.” He said, the smile still etched on his lips. You nodded shyly, a blush on your cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him once more. Yes, Draco had been infatuated with you since your fourth year. Yes, he is madly in love with you. Yes, waiting for you was worth it. (and yes, he did go and tear into your so-called friend when you had finished kissing).

[theodorenmyth]

Mattheo with a s/o who literally had a past of fighting a lot 😭. Reader has changed and is more peaceful, but Mattheo figured out that reader was literally worst than him and it makes him question reader about their past.

Shadows of the Past

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Summary ; You and Mattheo Riddle have grown close, but rumors about your violent past begin to surface, casting a shadow over your budding relationship. As Mattheo confronts you with what he's heard, you reveal the anger and struggles that once defined you, and the person who helped you find peace. Through heartfelt conversations and shared moments, Mattheo seeks to understand the person you once were and the journey you've taken to become who you are now. Together, you navigate the complexities of your past, finding strength in each other's acceptance and love, and forging a bond that is ready to face whatever the future holds.

A/N ; Enjoy! :3

Warnings) ; nothing

Word count ; 1.2k+

The soft glow of the setting sun bathed the Hogwarts grounds in a warm, golden hue as you walked alongside Mattheo Riddle. The two of you had spent the afternoon exploring the quieter corners of the castle, enjoying each other’s company away from the prying eyes of your peers. For once, the conversation had been light, the laughter genuine.

As you reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from relaxed to contemplative. You felt a knot form in your stomach as he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours.

"I've been hearing things," he began, his voice measured. "Things about your past."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was bound to come up sooner or later. "What kind of things?"

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. "People say you were... different. That you used to get into a lot of fights. Worse than me, even."

You sighed, looking away. The memories of your past were not something you liked to dwell on. "Yeah, I did. But that was a long time ago, Mattheo. I’m not that person anymore."

Mattheo studied you for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Why did you fight so much?"

You hesitated, the old wounds threatening to reopen. "It’s complicated. I had a lot of anger back then. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I fought. It was the only way I knew how to cope."

He nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle. "What changed?"

You took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling your lungs. "I met someone who helped me see that there are other ways to handle things. They taught me how to find peace within myself. How to control my anger instead of letting it control me."

Mattheo’s gaze softened. "And you think you’ve changed?"

"I know I have," you replied firmly. "I’m not proud of who I used to be, but I’ve worked hard to become a better person."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I’m not judging you, you know. I just want to understand. It’s part of who you are, and I care about all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Mattheo. That means a lot."

There was a moment of silence, the two of you standing together at the edge of the forest. The air was filled with the sounds of nature, the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

"Tell me more about it," he said finally. "About who you were back then."

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back. "I was angry at the world. I felt like I had to fight to be seen, to be heard. I didn’t care about the consequences. I just wanted to prove that I was strong, that no one could mess with me."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And now?"

"Now, I’ve learned that true strength isn’t about how many fights you can win. It’s about having the courage to walk away. To choose peace over violence."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m proud of you. For changing. For becoming the person you are now."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly wiping it away. "Thank you. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it."

Mattheo pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "We all have our demons. What matters is how we deal with them. And you, you’ve done something incredible."

You clung to him, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his embrace. "I just hope you can accept me, past and all."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I do. I always will."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in shadows, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. Mattheo knew the truth now, and he still cared. It was more than you could have hoped for.

"You know," he said with a grin, "I think I’d like to hear some of those stories. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

You laughed, the sound echoing through the trees. "Maybe. But only if you promise not to get any ideas."

"Deal," he said, pulling you back into a hug.

Together, you walked back towards the castle, the past no longer a shadow hanging over you but a part of your journey. And with Mattheo by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next few days were a whirlwind of exams, classes, and stolen moments with Mattheo. He had a way of making you feel at ease, his dark humor and sharp wit a constant source of amusement. But there was an underlying curiosity in his eyes, a desire to know more about the person you used to be.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, Mattheo broached the subject again. "So, tell me about your most memorable fight."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Absolutely," he replied, leaning in closer. "I want to know everything about you."

You took a deep breath, recalling the incident that had marked the turning point in your life. "There was this one time, back in my fourth year. A group of older students thought they could push me around because I was younger. They didn’t expect me to fight back."

Mattheo’s eyes gleamed with interest. "What happened?"

"I ended up breaking one guy’s nose and giving another a black eye and a broken arm," you admitted, a hint of pride in your voice. "But it wasn’t just about the fight. It was what happened afterward that changed everything."

He frowned, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"I got into a lot of trouble, obviously. Detention for a month, extra assignments, the whole deal. But Professor McGonagall, she took me aside and talked to me. She didn’t just lecture me about fighting. She asked why I was so angry."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And what did you tell her?"

"I broke down," you confessed. "I told her everything. About how I felt invisible, how I thought fighting was the only way to get people to notice me. She listened, really listened. And then she helped me find a way to channel my anger into something positive."

Mattheo’s grip on your hand tightened. "Sounds like she really made a difference."

"She did," you agreed. "She suggested I take up dueling, but in a controlled environment. It wasn’t about hurting others, but about mastering my skills, my emotions. It helped me find a sense of control and peace."

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I’m glad she did. I can’t imagine Hogwarts without you."

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thanks, Mattheo. It means a lot to hear you say that."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "We all have our battles, our pasts. But what matters is how we move forward. And I’m here with you, no matter what."

You kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and unspoken words. When you pulled back, you felt a sense of calm and certainty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For accepting me."

"Always," he murmured, pulling you close.

As the fire crackled and the shadows danced around you, you knew that with Mattheo by your side, you could face whatever the future held. Your past was a part of you, but it didn’t define you. And with him, you felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

[whumpsday]

Ancient Evils

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: g/t whump, giant whumpee, demon whumpee, magical whump, isolation, claustrophobia, burns, forced to obey, rescue, hurt/comfort, caretaking

Whumpmas in July Day 21: Abandoned GT July Day 21: Coveted Hug a Giant Day

dammit i did that thing again where i write a oneshot and it turns into the setup for a miniseries. will write a followup to this eventually lol but it also works as a standalone <3 (edit: might just leave this as a standalone, who knows)

-

The tomb was covered in glowing runes Berian knew from his studies, but had never encountered in use until today. Symbols carved painstakingly into stone by ancients, covering every inch of the thirteen-foot stone box, all screaming a single purpose: keep whatever lies inside sealed within.

The magic used to activate them was powerful, powerful enough to seal the tomb for two thousand years, powerful enough that the caster had surely died, given what they had to work with back then. It was likely all they could think to do in their desperation, back then. Berian uttered a quick prayer for the caster who came before him, who had sacrificed themself to save countless: long-dead, but not forgotten.

At least he wouldn’t have to follow in their footsteps. Two thousand years was, thankfully, enough time to develop a better solution. A way of utilizing the demon’s own magic against itself.

Though it was always in the back of his mind as a backup, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the knot of anxiety in his stomach would dissipate after it was done.

Berian looked to his watches, lined up one after the other on his wrist, all still in sync, and waited.

As soon as it hit twenty seconds until release, he began chanting as practiced, his staff pointed directly at the tomb. He had to time it just right, or his colleagues out at the entrance probably wouldn’t even be able to come retrieve his corpse.

“Finis.”

Precisely at the same moment Berian bound the spell, the runes ceased to glow, a forceful BANG sounding from within the tomb.

He exhaled slow. The lid stayed shut. After only a few seconds, the runes resumed glowing once more. He’d done it.

The entity inside screamed.

Berian jumped back. The screaming did not stop, a wail of agony and despair. Barely audible under it all, his phone beeped, the least of his worries.

“Hello?” he called out, hesitant.

A voice roared from inside. “LET ME OUT.”

In all his wildest imaginings, Berian had never imagined the demon would speak to him.

He could, he realized. The spell had bound the demon to his will: it would have to obey him even outside the tomb.

And it was the only chance he would ever get. And they had backup plan after backup plan in place in case things went horribly wrong.

“...Okay. Don’t move.”  This would at least be a good test of whether the spell would hold, he told himself. It was safer this way, really.

Berian tried to lift the lid, but it was simply too heavy, a gigantic slab of solid stone. He pointed his staff to it, muttering just the right words to let it slide off to the side.

The demon looked like a man. He hadn’t expected that. He was as tall as the tomb was long, easily more than twice Berian’s height, with large, curled horns protruding from his head, but other than that, he looked human.

True to Berian’s order, he did not move a single muscle. His body lay stock-still within, his arms raised and palms up–he’d been attempting to push the lid off himself. Overlapping scars streaked down his skin wherever it touched the stone in the pattern of the runes, burned in as though with a branding iron. Massive shackles cinched tight around his wrists, ankles, and neck, chains binding him to the inside of the tomb.

The demon did not speak again, his eyes wide with overwhelming alarm.

It was only after a moment of taking him all in with awe that Berian realized it was him preventing the demon from doing so.

“You can move,” he amended. In addition to forcing the demon to use his own magic to re-activate the runes, the initial spell had contained a command preventing him from leaving the tomb. This would just be going overkill.

The demon gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “OUT. OUT. YOU WILL RELEASE ME.”

Berian winced. “I can’t do that. You’ll hurt people, like last time, right?”

To Berian’s continued amazement, the demon began to cry.

“ONLY YOUR ENEMIES. OR NO ONE AT ALL. WHATEVER ARE THE TERMS. WHAT MUST I DO TO BE RELEASED?”

Berian could have sworn he heard that powerful voice break, just a little.

“NAME YOUR TERMS,” the demon insisted. Berian was sure now, the desperation palpable.

The demon shifted slightly, and everywhere the stone touched new skin, it burned.

“You–you will harm no one,” Berian started, before he’d even thought how this was going to work. “You will stay in this section of the cave. You will not touch my staff or any other conduit of magic. You may exit the tomb.”

Berian had never seen something so huge move so quick. The demon burst from the stone box like a firework, chains snapping like rubber bands under his freed might, the ends hanging limply from his shackles. The cave ceiling was not tall enough for him to stand and he did not try, scrambling as far away as he could get and huddling against the wall there.

His phone beeped again.

The demon glared at him, his chin tucked into the metal wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t right. This was a demon that had wrought terror across lands, responsible for thousands of deaths, a giant among men. He wasn’t supposed to be… pitiful.

“Hey–”

“I WILL NOT GO BACK IN.” Now that he was out of the tomb, Berian could see the true extent of the damage, the burns even more intense on skin that had been pressed against the bottom. As huge as the box was, it had been built scarcely larger than the man before him, big enough to fit him and no more. Skin that had been pressed against the bottom was particularly scarred, so much so that it was essentially a giant burn, the symbols impossible to make out.

“I’m not going to make you go back in there,” Berian promised. Maybe a stupid promise. What the fuck was he going to do? “So just… it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. The demon’s glare gave way to surprise. “GOOD.”

Berian took an experimental step forward, like he was coaxing out a feral cat. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Berian. I’m–” Don’t say caster. “...A researcher.” It wasn’t a lie, after all.

The demon picked his head up. “THEY CALLED ME ALARIC. ALL-POWERFUL.” The words rang bitter.

“Were you… awake in there, all this time?” Berian asked, dreading the answer.

The glare returned. “I DO NOT SLEEP.”

“We didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be awake.” Berian took a couple more steps forward.

Alaric put his hand up, huge, sharp claws protruding from every finger. Berian flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a small yelp, but there was no attack: his commands prevented it. When he opened his eyes, he found Alaric merely motioning for him to stop.

“DO NOT BRING THAT NEAR ME.” He pointed to Berian’s staff.

“Okay! Okay.” He set the staff down on the ground, bringing his hands up in a placating motion. “See? You follow my commands, I follow yours, it goes both ways. I don’t have it.”

Alaric lowered his hand. “YOU MAY PROCEED, MAGE.”

Heart fluttering and permission granted, Berian did. He walked right up to him: even huddled on the floor, Alaric was taller than Berian was standing.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE HERE.”

“Right! I, ah, I was sent to… re-seal you. But I won’t!” Berian clarified hurriedly. “Really, I was just sent to make sure nobody gets hurt. Like–like the last time you were out. That’s fine, right?”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “IT IS DONE.”

“Good! Good.” Berian hovered a hand inches from his skin. “You’re hurt.”

“YES. THAT.” Alaric nodded toward the tomb and shuddered.

In order to create something that could contain a demon, they’d had to make something so totally opposed that it had harmed him. Berian didn’t blame the ancients: they had to stop the massacres one way or another, and they worked with what they had. They were desperate.

But there was no massacre now.

Without his staff, the kinds of spells he could perform were limited, but not nothing. While he couldn’t cast outright healing spells–would they even work on a demon?--he could at least cast something soothing. “I could… help. If you want.”

Alaric eyed him silently for a few moments before responding. “DO AS YOU WISH.”

“I can touch you?” Berian asked.

The demon nodded. Berian laid his hand lightly against Alaric’s back, red with harsh welts. He could feel Alaric’s muscle underneath, tensed, twitching slightly at his touch.

His whispered incantation didn’t do much. It was the magical equivalent of putting aloe on third-degree burns. But it was something, and Berian felt Alaric relax just slightly under his hand.

Berian performed the spell again and again, touching wherever it looked the worst. Between this and the earlier binding, he quickly exhausted himself, but that was fine.

“Better?” he asked.

“...YES.” Alaric looked down at him with a little less apprehension now. “YOU WILL BE SPARED, MAGE.”

“Haha, great!” Berian squeaked. “Just–just like everyone, right?”

“THOSE WERE THE TERMS,” Alaric agreed.

Berian wanted to get those shackles off. He wanted to take Alaric out of here, bring him to the lab. No, the lab wouldn’t be big enough to house him comfortably. Nowhere would. They’d have to build a custom facility, and there was no way he’d get permission for that, much less the funding. He couldn’t so much as let anyone know the state in which he’d left Alaric, or they’d find another caster and find a way to finish the job.

His phone beeped twice.

“I have to go, okay? You just… stay down here for now. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring you things.”

“BRING ME A SHEEP,” Alaric demanded.

“I’ll bring you a sheep! Sure! And–I’m sorry about this, but if someone finds you, it’s going to be really bad, especially for you. So… be quiet,” Berian ordered.

Alaric did not respond. He couldn’t. His features set back into a glare, but he nodded: he was the one who stood to lose, after all. At least he understood.

Before Berian could think better of it, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the demon as much as he could manage to. Alaric did not push him away, even though he could have. If anything. Alaric leaned into it slightly.

He stayed like that for a good minute before stepping away. “I’ll protect you. That’s my job.”

Berian raced out toward the entrance, already planning his next visit.

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[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 8

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Entrusted with an undercover mission for Crown, Roger and I headed to a village in the countryside.

We were about to unveil the true identity of the Spirit God who claimed to hold great power when— 

Roger: Did you never learn to let people finish talking while you were in your mama’s womb? Sure, treatment for tetanus isn’t widely available. But if you don’t have it, then you make it.

Spirit God: You can’t possibly…

Roger: As a former doctor, I can.

Spirit God: A…doctor? Lies. You’re just saying that to take my place…

Roger: …Shut it.

Roger cut the man’s ranting with a sharp yell.

Spirit God: …

Roger: While you’re so busy ranting, this little girl’s gonna…die.

The anger in his eyes gave me chills.

(That murderous intent is…incredible)

(...Ah, I see now. Roger’s furious)

(I’ve never seen Roger’s emotions be…laid so bare)

Child’s mother: ……her. Please just save her…!

A powerful cry shook the air.

Holding her dying daughter in her arms, the woman looked at Roger with pleading eyes.

—The man called the Spirit God had his hands bound with rope, and the villagers kept watch over him.

We were given a room where we started working on refining a treatment for tetanus.

Liam: Roger, I brought the drugs you asked for from the storehouse!

Roger: Perfect, thanks. We gotta get the lil’ girl comfortable. Hurry.

Kate: On it!

Roger removed his vest and started looking over the medicine collected.

(There’s not much I can do, but I want to help in any way I can)

Kate: I’ll sterilize the test tubes. You can use carbolic acid, right?

Roger: …O_O

(Huh? Was I wrong about carbolic acid…?)

Kate: Um…Roger?

Roger: I thought you were getting up to something at night. Turns out you were studying medicine.

A large hand ruffled my hair.

Kate: …

I felt like Ale receiving pets.

Despite that…I felt my heart beat a little faster.

Roger: You’ve saved me the trouble. Thanks, Kate.

Kate: No…it’s just some knowledge I crammed in my head. You’re still going to have to guide me.

Roger: Then I’m gonna make you do a lot of work.

(Why am I so happy…to receive praise from Roger?)

Somehow, my heart was beating differently than usual.

(No, no. Knowledge is a part of strength. I was just happy that I got a little stronger)

(...but)

—After selecting some drugs and running tests, a tetanus treatment was refined.

Roger: Alright…now we just need to run clinical trials and then we can give it to people.

(Doing clinical trials means…)

Kate: You’re going to test it on healthy bodies to study the effects.

Roger: That’s right. This time it’s to see if it’s safe to take.

Liam: I’ll do it, Roger. I’m healthy, but if anything happens, it’ll just be to me.

Liam raised his hand first and Roger gave a wry smile.

Roger: Liam. You think I’d just let you give in to your “bad habits”?

Liam: Ah…

Curiosity—that was Liam’s curse.

Roger: Too bad for you. I’m feeling thirsty.

With that said, Roger took the bottle of medicine in one gulp.

Kate and Liam: Eh!

After being stunned by Roger’s bold move, I came back to my senses.

Kate: Roger, what are we going to do if something happens to you!

Roger: It’s fine. My body’s stronger.

(Is it really okay…?)

I was feeling both confidence and doubt toward Roger.

But the man himself…

Roger: We’re gonna have to wait a bit for it to take effect. I’m gonna take a nap. Kate, wake me up in an hour.

With that said, he crashed on a bed— 

Kate: Huh, Roger?

Within a few seconds, he started snoring.

Kate: He…fell asleep…?

I blinked at how fast he fell asleep and Liam laughed.

Liam: Hehe, you couldn’t kill him if you tried. I’m going to check on the villagers. Kate, I’m leaving Roger in your care.

The door closed, leaving Roger and me in the room.

When I sat on the edge of the bed, Roger’s hand fell from his chest onto my lap.

(He’s really asleep…)

His gloved hand was large and bony.

I gently touched his fingers which laid vulnerable on my lap.

(This hand’s killed before)

(And it’s kept many people alive) 

The way Roger’s living, it's like he holds life and death in his hands—a terrible contradiction.

There’s no way a man as smart as him didn’t see that.

He’s an egoist with a rifle as if carrying the sin of killing, claimed to be a former doctor, and lived in darkness.

(...Roger, what are you trying to do with Crown?)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: What are you researching, Roger?

Roger: Cursed Ones—and how to rid the word of them.

~~ End flashback ~~

(Did he perhaps mean—)

I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts.

(...No, let’s not jump to conclusions)

No matter how much I thought about it, I’d never reach the truth about Roger.

(At least, not with the way I am now…)

--

Roger woke up without any issues.

The tetanus drug was given to the infected girl and the villagers watched— 

The girl woke up just as the sun rose.

Roger: …Pulse is normal, no numbness in her limbs. Looks like the medicine did its job.

(Thank goodness…!)

Child’s mother: Thank you so much. You’re a god.

Roger: …Me, a god? Don’t make me laugh. I’m just an ordinary human as you can see. If I were a god, I would’ve rid the world of all its absurdities.

(...Roger?)

Cold eyes betrayed the warmth in his words.

But then  it disappeared in an instant.

In its place was a cynical smile.

Roger: Humans can’t become gods, no matter how hard they try. That’ what makes them so interesting.

Spirit God: …Argh, shut up!

A yell interrupted the peace in the room and we all turned toward the source.

Kate: Huh, Spirit God?! I thought he was captured and kept under watch…

The sudden appearance of the Spirit God confused the villagers.

Man of the village: When did you get free?! Everyone, run.

The Spirit God, who seemed to have escaped on his own, had an ominous smile on his face as the room fell into chaos…

(He’s coming this way…)

I tried to run, but he jumped at me from behind.

Kate: Eek…!

Roger: Kate.

Roger, who was standing by the girl, tried to reach for me, but it was too late. I was captured by the Spirit God.

Liam: Kate…

Roger: …

Spirit God: If you don’t want this woman to be killed, forget everything you saw in this village! That way, I can live as a god again.

(What a mess…Still, he’s surprisingly strong.)

(...What do I do)

His arms wrapped around my neck, cutting off air.

In my desperation, I looked up and met Roger’s gaze.

Roger: …

While everyone else turned pale, Roger was the only one smiling.

(...Huh? Why are you smiling…at a time like this?)

“You’ll get stronger, right”—the amber color happily threw at me.

(T-this guy…!)

(But…)

It’s better to be amusement than to be looked down on for being useless.

(Calm down…and remember what you learned about self-defense from Roger)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Step two, what to do when someone holds you.

Kate: Hey, wait. What should I do?

Roger: Hey, I told you that trying to force your way out’s gonna make it worse.

First, go limp, like a puppet that just got its strings cut.

~~ End flashback ~~

I calmed my mind and released all tension from my body as I exhaled.

Spirit God: …What the, you got heavy all of a sudden.

(Now.)

While the Spirit God was confused, I pushed his arms up from below.

Roger: Well done, Kate. Now keep leaning forward.

The moment I escaped the Spirit God’s hold, Roger took over.

Kate: …!

A powerful jab in the jaw knocked the Spirit God unconscious.

(His eyes rolled back. He’s completely out…)

Kate: A one-hit K.O…What’s with that brute strength?

Roger: I didn’t tell you? I’m a heavyweight boxing champ.

Wow…

Really?

You’re one heck of a guy +4 +4

Kate: Hmm… Wait! You’re just casually mentioning that you’re a heavyweight boxing champ?!

Roger: Haha, amazing, aren’t I?

(He’s not joking. He really is one heck of a guy…)

I would’ve loved to spend an hour or so asking him about boxing, but I had something else on my mind.

Kate: He’s not dead is he…?

I checked the Spirit God for a pulse.

Kate: Ah, he’s breathing…

Liam: He’s breathing, but won’t wake up for a while. Well, it’s for the best.

(He’s not dead, which is good for now…)

No matter how evil a person was, seeing them die before your eyes left a bad taste in your mouth.

Blonde child: …Mr. Glasses.

The girl seemed well enough to get out of bed and approached Roger.

Roger: Hm, what is it? Does it hurt anywhere?)

Blonde child: No. Um…Thank you…For making the pain go away. And…thank you miss and Mr. Pink…

Kate: I’m glad you’re feeling better.

Liam: Mr. Pink. How cute.

Roger: You’re welcome. This is the best reward I’ve gotten.

--

After waking up, the Spirit God admitted to all his crimes and was sent to the police.

Victor arrived later and told us that the village, which had closed itself to the public, would now open up with financial support from Her Majesty.

As for me—

After parting ways with Victor, who stayed to clean up the mess, and Liam, who volunteered to accompany him, Roger and I boarded the train back to London.

From outside the window, twilight dyed the sky.

Roger: Pfft, haha.

Roger, who sat across from me, suddenly burst into laughter.

Roger: The look on that guy’s face when you slipped out of his arms was a masterpiece.

(Thinking about it…)

A smile formed on my lips as I recalled the Spirit God’s dumbfounded expression.

Kate: Heh, hehe… Wait, why am I laughing. I thought I was about to die.

I glared at Roger, but he just smiled and propped himself up against the windowsill. 

Roger: Sorry, sorry. But the way you handled self-defense techniques honestly had me impressed. Not to mention you secretly studying medicine. So Kate, close your eyes.

Kate: …Don’t do anything weird, okay?

I closed my eyes after that warning.

…Then, I felt fingers touching my neck.

(Lace? It feels like a thin tie…but it’s nice to the touch)

Roger: You can open your eyes now.

Kate: …

I slowly opened my eyes.

Roger: …

Through the reflection of his amber eyes, I saw myself wearing a lovely choker.

Kate: This is…

Roger: A collar of course. You’ve now been promoted from dogsbody to pet. Congrats.

Next

[voxceleste]

Hihi! This is a different anon but I really loved your response to the anon’s question about writing! So thorough and helpful! Do you mind suggesting maybe like a specific page from seven different books that you’d suggest for the imitating-writing-style exercise? Like from any authors that you personally find their styles very arresting or potentially useful for this exercise? If there is a charity that you especially like, I promise to donate 50 USD to it as a thank you!

hi!

if you do an exercise like this, i'd recommend these steps to get the most out of it:

transcribe the passage by hand in a notebook

use a different coloured pen to annotate the passage transcription, circling or underlining particular things that stand out to you, as well as writing notes below or in the margins

read the passage out loud

here are some starting questions you could ask yourself when reading and rereading a passage:

think about sentence length and how rhythm is used within a paragraph, as well as within a sentence

is there repetition? alliteration?

how "close" are we to the perspective character? can you identify a perspective character within the excerpt? are we learning things about the world at large outside of one person's consciousness or does the narrator keep us tightly bound to that character's experience? which writing techniques support them in doing this?

what sorts of words are used? are there words you don't recognize? would you describe the passage as straightforward to understand, or challenging? do you have to read it multiple times to understand what's going on? if so, what makes that the case, and what does it do for your experience as a reader to have to work for the meaning? (this isn't about value judgements, just thinking about the how.)

how are the sentences structured? is the author generous or sparing with punctuation? are there many or few clauses? (it's worthwhile to read about clauses and sentence-level grammar, if you're not familiar with thinking about language this way)

what is the tone--dark, humorous, matter-of-fact? would you characterize the style of writing as formal, informal, somewhere in between? does the style of writing evoke a certain accent or region? the answers to these questions often involve diction, which is the cumulative effect of the many decisions an author makes about word choice.

how is time treated? what is the tense? does this passage refer to a specific moment in time, or are we operating in a sweeping, narratorial, generalized way? are we moving from point to point rapidly, and how does the author signify these shifts if so? (the written word allows us to be much more flexible with the treatment of time and consciousness than audiovisual media does. we don't need to "cut" between scenes or moments in a hard way, like a movie would, if a more graceful shift would also do the job.)

once you've thought about some of these questions, you will have a better sense of how an author achieves the total effect that we refer to as their "voice" or "style." pinpointing the techniques they use will allow you to play around with using them yourself.

i also recommend using a simple writing prompt generator if you do an "imitating someone's style" exercise, and keep your attempts to a page or two. don't try and produce something good or polished. this is the equivalent of an artist doing practice sketches; you're just doing it for its own sake, and you're certainly not going to be as good at imitating an author on the first try as the author is at being themself, so try to avoid being harsh on yourself. you're just learning.

i can suggest some works i think might be good jumping-off points, but this exercise would work best with books you come across on your own that spark a sense of envy or curiosity in you--there's a lot of personal taste involved, and there's not much use in doing a master study, as it were, of work that doesn't interest you.

just to give you a sense of what you might be looking for out of comparative study, i picked out seven memorable opening passages from books i had in reaching range of my desk. they should be comprehensible without context since they're all page 1s, and hopefully have enough diversity among them that you know what kinds of things you might be looking for.

if anyone who finds this post useful has any funds available to spare for Heba's family as they try to stabilize their lives, I would appreciate it very much:

novel excerpts:

1956. The air-conditioned darkness of the Avenue Theater smells of flowery pomade, sugary chocolates, cigarette smoke, and sweat. All That Heaven Allows is playing in Cinemascope and Technicolor. Starring Jane Wyman as the rich widow, Rock Hudson as the handsome young gardener, and Agnes Moorehead as Jane's faithful friend, the movie also features the unsung starlet Gloria Talbott as Jane's spoiled teenage daughter, a feisty brunette with catlike features and an innocent ponytail.

Rock Hudson's rustic gardener's cottage stands next to a frozen lake. The sky is a garish baby-blue, the clouds are ethereal wads of fluffy white cotton. In this perfect picture-book American tableau, plaid hunting jackets, roaring cellophane fires, smoking chimneys, and stark winter forests of skeletal trees provide costume and setting for Hollywood's version of a typical rural American Christmas. Huddled with our chaperone Lorenza, my cousin Pucha Gonzaga and I sit enthralled in the upper section of the balcony in Manila's "Foremost! First-Run! English Movies Only!" theater, ignoring the furtive lovers stealing noisy kisses in the pitch-black darkness all around us.

Jane Wyman's soft putty face. Rock Hudson's singular, pitying expression. Flared skirts, wide cinch belts, prim white blouses, a single strand of delicate, blue-white pearls. Thick penciled eyebrows and blood-red vampire lips; the virginal, pastel-pink cashmere cardigan draped over Gloria Talbott's shoulders. Cousin Pucha and I are impressed by her brash style; we gasp at Gloria's cool indifference, the offhand way she treats her grieving mother. Her casual arrogance seems inherently American, modern, and enviable.

Dogeaters, Jessica Hagedorn

***

When Lady Ann Sercomb married George Smiley towards the end of the war she described him to her astonished Mayfair friends as breathtakingly ordinary. When she left him two years later in favour of a Cuban motor racing driver, she announced enigmatically that if she hadn't left him then, she never could have done; and Viscount Sawley made a special journey to his club to observe that the cat was out of the bag.

This remark, which enjoyed a brief season as a mot, can only be understood by those who knew Smiley. Short, fat, and of a quiet disposition, he appeared to spend a lot of money on really bad clothes, which hung about his squat frame like skin on a shrunken toad. Sawley, in fact, declared at the wedding that "Sercomb was mated to a bullfrog in a sou'wester." And Smiley, unaware of this description, had waddled down the aisle in search of the kiss that would turn him into a Prince.

Was he rich or poor, peasant or priest? Where had she got him from? The incongruity of the match was emphasized by Lady Ann's undoubted beauty, its mystery stimulated by the disproportion between the man and his bride. But gossip must see its characters in black and white, equip them with sins and motives easily conveyed in the shorthand of conversation. And so Smiley, without school, parents, regiment or trade, without wealth or poverty, travelled without labels in the guard's van of the social express, and soon became lost luggage, destined, when the divorce had come and gone, to remain unclaimed on the dusty shelf of yesterday's news.

Call For the Dead, John le Carré

***

Titus is seven. His confines, Gormenghast. Suckled on shadows; weaned, as it were, on webs of ritual; for his ears, echoes, for his eyes, a labyrinth of stone: and yet within his body something other--other than this umbrageous legacy. For first and ever foremost he is child.

A ritual, more compelling than ever man devised, is fighting anchored darkness. A ritual of the blood; of the jumping blood. These quicks of sentience owe nothing to his forbears, but to those feckless hosts, a trillion deep, of the globe's childhood.

The gift of the bright blood. Of blood that laughs when the tenets mutter 'Weep.' Of blood that mourns when the sere laws croak 'Rejoice!' O little revolution in great shades!

Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake

***

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now, women forget all those things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.

So the beginning of this was a woman and she had come back from burying the dead. Not the dead of sick and ailing with friends at the pillow and the feet. She had come back from the sodden and the bloated; the sudden dead, their eyes flung wide open in judgment.

The people all saw her come because it was sundown. The sun was gone, but he had left his footprints in the sky. It was the time for sitting on porches beside the road. It was the time to hear things and talk. These sitters had been tongueless, earless, eyeless conveniences all day long. Mules and other brutes had occupied their skins. But now, the sun and the bossman were gone, so the skins felt powerful and human. They became lords of sounds and lesser things. They passed nations through their mouths. They sat in judgment.

Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston

***

In the week before their departure to Arrakis, when all the final scurrying about had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.

It was a warm night at Castle Caladan, and the ancient pile of stone that had served the Atreides family as home for twenty-six generations bore that cooled-sweat feeling it acquired before a change in the weather.

The old woman was let in by the side door down the vaulted passage by Paul's room and she was allowed a moment to peer in at him where he lay in his bed.

By the half-light of a suspensor lamp, dimmed and hanging near the floor, the awakened boy could see a bulky female shape at his door, standing one step ahead of his mother. The old woman was a witch shadow--hair like matted spiderwebs, hooded 'round darkness of features, eyes like glittering jewels.

"Is he not small for his age, Jessica?" the old woman asked. Her voice wheezed and twanged like an untuned baliset.

Dune, Frank Herbert

***

Early in the morning, late in the century, Cricklewood Broadway. At 06.27 hours on 1 January 1975, Alfred Archibald Jones was dressed in corduroy and sat in a fume-filled Cavalier Musketeer Estate face down on the steering wheel, hoping the judgement would not be too heavy upon him. He lay forward in a prostrate cross, jaw slack, arms splayed either side like some fallen angel; scrunched up in each fist he held his army service medals (left) and his marriage licence (right), for he had decided to take his mistakes with him. A little green light flashed in his eye, signalling a right turn he had resolved never to make. He was resigned to it. He was prepared for it. He had flipped a coin and stood staunchly by its conclusions. This was a decided-upon suicide. In fact it was a New Year's resolution.

But even as his breathing became spasmodic and his lights dimmed, Archie was aware that Cricklewood Broadway would seem a strange choice. Strange to the first person to notice his slumped figure through the windscreen, strange to the policemen who would file the report, to the local journalist called upon to write fifty words, to the next of kin who would read them. Squeezed between an almighty concrete cinema complex at one end and a giant intersection at the other, Cricklewood was no kind of place. It was not a place a man came to die. It was a place a man came in order to go other places via the A41. But Archie Jones didn't want to die in some pleasant, distant woodland, or on a cliff edge fringed with delicate heather. The way Archie saw it, country people should die in the country and city people should die in the city. Only proper. In death as he was in life and all that. It made sense that Archibald should die on this nasty urban street where he had ended up, living alone at the age of forty-seven, in a one-bedroom flat above a deserted chip shop. He wasn't the type to make elaborate plans--suicide notes and funeral instructions--he wasn't the type for anything fancy. All he asked for was a bit of silence, a bit of shush so he could concentrate. He wanted it to be perfectly quiet and still, like the inside of an empty confessional box or the moment in the brain between thought and speech. He wanted to do it before the shops opened.

White Teeth, Zadie Smith

***

The moment Fetter is born, Mother-of-Glory pins his shadow to the earth with a large brass nail and tears it from him. This is his first memory, the seed of many hours of therapy to come. It is raining. His shadow is cast upon reddish soil thick with clay that clings to Fetter as he rolls in it, unable to raise his head, saved from drowning in mud only by the fortunate angle of his landing. The arch of Mother-of-Glory's knee frames what he sees next. His shadow writhes slowly on its nail. Mother-of-Glory dips her hands in that mud to gather up the ropy shadow of his umbilical cord and throttles his severed shadow with a quick loop, pulled tight. The shadow goes to its end in silence--or if it cries out, if shadows can cry out, that sound is lost in the rain.

The next hours and years are lost to Fetter. Even this first memory is forgotten, until, as a boy already wearing thin his first decade of life, he explores the maze of his mother's house, looking for secrets, and stumbles across the lacquer box where Mother-of-Glory keeps a lock of his baby hair and the nail that tore his shadow from him. As he holds it in his hands that garrotting comes back to him, framed by the arch of his mother's knee, the shadow falling away, bloody rivulets in red mud.

The Saint of Bright Doors, Vajra Chandrasekera

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Young Azaril content! With Mercer being a manipulative prick as he does best.

When Azaril had been told he was shadowing Mercer instead on this mission, he'd been mildly disgruntled but not too upset.

Sure Mercer was a pain and didn't seem to like him very much, but he was still the third, not a position Azaril expected Gallus to give someone who couldn't work with others.

Only this fairly simple bedlam job was taking. Forever. Because Mercer was a nit picky asshole who wouldn't let Azaril two inches out of his sight and was annoyingly insistent on Azaril doing everything exactly the way he wanted.

They would've been out of solitude ages ago if they'd just gone with Azaril's plan. Hit the Blue Palace, there weren't nearly enough guards at the moment and it was technically open to the public, in a jarl's palace there were bound to be plenty of fine clothes and crockery. More than enough to add up to what they needed. Hell, if they could get into the jarl's room who knew what she might have. He'd even bought and packed a couple invisibility potions to help.

But no.

Mercer thought it was better to sneak around the stores and pick up a couple things here and there whole Azzy distracted the clerk. They'd be here all day at this rate.

Not to mention how rude he was being throughout it all. As if Azaril wasn't what stood between him and a quick visit to a jail cell at the moment.

"You wouldn't know a good plan if it hit you in the face." This and "If I let you do the actual stealing we'd end up caught within seconds." That. Divines was his patience running thin.

Currently they were in Angeline's Aromatics, and Azaril was trying very hard to pretend he was way more interested in alchemy than he was. He must be doing decent because the shopkeep had her attention on him the entire time, hadn't even noticed Mercer sneak away to go look for valuables.

Currently she was explaining to him the steps to make a cure disease potion, "It should look like this when you're done." She pulled out a potion from under the counter to show him. He did a very good imitation of studying the red liquid inside, but was distracted by a figure out of the corner of his eye.

What the fuck was Mercer doing?

Sure Azaril was a good distraction but he wasn't near good enough for Mercer to be pocketing shit right in front of this lady.

Trying to become good enough of a distraction, Azaril silently prayed that Mercer would stay on the side of the room he was currently on, and went to lift the bottle to see it catch the light, and very convincingly pretended dropping it was a complete accident.

"Oh crud-I'm so sorry! I'll just-let me-"

"No no it happens, I have a broom, it's okay really-you don't have to pick up the glass-"

"I'll pay for it, gosh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be so clumsy-"

The lady managed to run to grab said broom right as Mercer walked across the room and put something off a shelf in his pocket.

"What are you-"

Mercer ran over and grabbed Azaril before booking it out the door.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?!"

"Just trust me!"

"Stop them! They're thieves!"

"Halt!"

There was so much going on at once, Mercer dragging Azaril through side streets, guards and people screaming, finally they were cornered. Azaril's heart was pounding, how had everything gone so wrong so quickly? What had Mercer been thinking?

His head was spinning while the leader of the group of guards who had them cornered did the entire 'you have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people' bit, how were they going to get out of this? He reached into his pocket to pull out his coin purse, he probably had enough to pay their bounties, whatever Mercer had stolen couldn't be worth too much.

"We submit, take us away." Mercer said, Azaril froze and stared at him.

"What?" He asked. The guards quickly restrained them, walking them towards the jail. All Azzy could do was stare at Mercer, these past ten minutes had made absolutely zero sense to him. What was going on? What was Mercer's plan? There were so many better ways to handle this... Hell so many ways to not get caught in the first place.

Mercer had to be planning something.

Azaril didn't know why that scared him so badly.

They were only actually in the cell for maybe a couple of hours, Azaril had his suspicions Mercer had been in there before with how easily he found a way out once no guards were paying attention.

"You know even if we get out we still failed the mission, everyone's going to be on alert for us now, there's no way to make back what we lost." Azaril whispered as Mercer grabbed their things out of the belongings chest.

"What do you want me to do about that?" Mercer snapped back. Azaril fought back a comment about sloppy mistakes and how skill didn't negate carelessness. "Just try not to fall behind on the way back. Don't need you getting eaten by wolves or something." The fact that he still had the audacity to act like Azaril was the unskilled one in this scenario was absolutely grating.

The way back to Riften was tense and silent, both of them were livid with the other, although Azaril thought Mercer's anger at him was entirely unwarranted.

When the two at last entered the cistern, Gallus looked up from the guild leader desk, "How did it go-are you two alright?" He seemed to notice the sour mood the two brought in with them.

"We need to talk, Gallus." Mercer said, walking towards him. Azaril followed, he was on the mission, he should be present for the discussion. Yet Mercer glared at him, "Alone."

Azaril stared at him for a moment, "It's about the job, right? Why shouldn't I be in the room?" His gaze turned to Gallus as he asked that last question.

There was a pause from Gallus, before a small sigh, "I'll make sure I get your story of events, Azzy. I promise." He saw the slightest smirk on Mercer's face, just for a second, and had a sinking feeling that he did not intend to tell Gallus the truth of what happened in Solitude.

"We should both be in the room, we were both on the job-"

"Azaril." Gallus' voice was more firm. "I'll speak to you later."

"... Fine." He watched them walk into the training room, and then turned towards the main flagon.

"Az! How was the job?" Delvin asked as he walked in, smiling until he saw the expression on his friend's face, "... Did somethin' happen?"

"Mercer's an asshole is what happened." Azaril grumbled, sitting at the table with him, "Was so sure of his plan he wouldn't listen to me or use common sense, then wants to get a stick up his ass when it all goes wrong."

"... You failed?" Delvin asked.

"Worse. We got arrested-I had the coin to just pay off the guard! We could have just walked out and waited to strike at night! But no, Mercer wanted to surrender."

"That... Makes no sense."

"Thank you! There was no reason for it, and now he wants to talk to Gallus alone and-am I being childish for being so annoyed over this?" He sighed, "This should have been so straightforward."

"... Dramatic, I do get where you're comin' from though. Even a man like Mercer miscalculates sometimes, just 'cause you're new doesn't mean he should brush you off." Delvin said. "I'm sure Gallus is gonna feel the same way."

"... Right." He nodded, "How about you? Did that numbers job go well?"

"Oh splendid, nobody suspected a thing."

"At least things are going right for one of us today."

It'd be a while before Mercer came out, sitting at a stool at the bar and demanding a mead.

Azaril rose from his seat and made his way to the Cistern. He wanted to make sure Gallus had the whole story.

Gallus appeared to have been walking towards the Flagon door when Azaril entered.

"Can we talk now?" He asked.

"I was coming to get you." Gallus said, turning to lead Azaril to the training room. "Azaril, I have to say I expect better of you than this. You're new yes, but I know you have a good head on your shoulders, and in the field I expect you to use it. You can't just pocket things in front of the shopkeep."

"... What?" That's how Mercer made it sound? That this was his mess? "I didn't-Gallus, Mercer is the one who grabbed something from the main room, I was trying to distract the shopkeep, honest." He said, "I didn't even want to target the shops, I wanted to wait for nightfall and go to the Blue Palace."

"Mercer already told me about you attempting to take the potion and dropping it. I'm not mad about the job not being completed, but you cannot shift blame when a job goes wrong." Gallus looked so disappointed in him. Why would he lie? What reason would he have to lie about Mercer?

"I'm not shifting blame! He-he wanted to talk to you first to cover his mess, I dropped a potion on purpose to try to cover him strolling into the main room and trying to shove things in his pockets!" He exclaimed, "He messed up! Not me!"

"*Azaril Avalaron that is enough!*" Gallus snapped at him, "Mercer would have no reason to lie to me, and I don't appreciate you trying to."

"I'm not-Gallus I swear I'm not, you taught me, why don't you believe me?" It felt like a childish question, but that was all he could think about. Mercer's supposed story, Azaril felt, was completely out of character, and his mentor of all people should know that. He held back the tears that liked to mix themself with his anger, he was not going to cry over Mercer's lies.

Gallus' gaze softened a bit, he took a deep breath, "... Maybe Mercer missaw what happened with the potion. But I can't imagine him doing something as foolish as what you claim unless he was trying to take the attention off of you, Azzy. I think both of you owe each other an apology." He didn't owe a thing. He wasn't apologizing when he'd done nothing wrong.

"I'm. I'm not going on any more jobs with him."

"Azaril, come on now-"

"I don't think he missaw anything, and I'm not apologizing." Tears were welling in his eyes, why didn't Gallus believe him??

"I know he seems harsh, but he does care-" Azaril wasn't going to stay here and listen to this, or risk crying in front of Gallus. He turned on his heel and stormed out, ignoring Gallus calling after him.

A few other guild members tried to ask him what was happening, he didn't answer, making a bee line for the ladder. He passed Karliah coming down, ignoring her "Azaril? What's wrong?"

There weren't many places in Riften one could truly be alone, even the docks were almost always busy.

But the dock out back of Honeyside laid as empty and silent as the house it belonged to.

And Azaril sneaking out there was nothing new. He sat near the edge of the dock, burying his face in his knees and finally letting himself cry.

He was out there for a good couple of hours, once he was calm just staring out at the water, before he heard someone drop onto the docks behind him. "Go away, Delvin."

"If you can mistake my landing for Delvin's I need to work on it, clearly." He looked back to see Karliah walking towards him, taking something out of her pocket. She sat next to him and handed over a wrapped sweet roll, "Gallus told me about the job."

"Told you *Mercer*'s version of the job." Azaril said, but took the sweet roll and thanked her nonetheless.

"... He can be. Hard to work with." She said, "He tends to get in his head that things should be done a certain way and won't hear anything else, but he does mean well." She paused, "Personally I don't believe Gallus should have sent you with Mercer, this was only what? Your fourth job?" Azaril nodded. "Of course the two of you didn't work well together." She said.

"... Do you believe Mercer? About the-the potion?"

"I do believe that's what he *thought* he saw. But I don't truly believe you'd be that careless." She said, "I don't believe he had malicious intent. But he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." Maybe Mercer didn't lie on purpose... Maybe Gallus and Karliah were right, he was just trying to keep Azaril safe. It still hurt how ready Gallus was to disregard Azaril's story because of Mercer's. But maybe he really was just overreacting?

"... I hope you're right." He whispered.

"I know I am, I know Mercer, and he's a good man Azzy. Just... Cold. You'll get used to working with him in time, I'm sure of it."

If only Azaril knew then how far that was from the truth.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hello! Thank you for doing BG3 match-ups. I know these can be a lot of time and effort, but I’m sure you’re making lots of people happy! (I’m also very curious to see what other people submit because I love learning about everyone’s Tavs/Durges.)

A few tidbits about my Tav, Chamois: to begin with, she is a wood elf sorcerer with draconic ancestry (silver). Her family has long been tea artisans and she, as the youngest of four, has just started her apprenticeship under her mother. For now, she assists her mother in selling their tea leaves. Chamois can get a little tunnel-visioned at times, so deep is her love for all things tea.

Positive Traits

Chamois can be quite charming, in a sort of awkward way. As a child, she was very studious in her eagerness to understand more about the trade, to the detriment of her social development. Now that she’s older and not such a shut-in, Chamois has almost leaned into that awkwardness—she know she can be an oddball but she’s a friendly oddball! Who likes to laugh! And also wants to sell you some delicious tea! She talks to almost everyone with an unguardedness and cheerful energy that most would reserve for close friends. Hence, even if she says something strange or goes off on a tangent, many folks just see it as an endearing trait.

Negative Traits

Chamois has a tendency to tell white lies. It’s almost instinctive, the way she’ll slip a lie into some story she’s telling, even when she’s not being interrogated or pressured. Whether it’s to make her tale a smidge more exciting or because she can’t be bothered to give a long explanation, Chamois doesn’t have any qualms with sticking to absolute truth.

She’s also a huge coward; this comes more into play for the tadpole adventures. She’s never fought before and most of her sorcerer spells are teeny tiny bits of magic to help out on the tea farm. She desperately wants to be better though. After her moments of fear, she tends to really berate herself over her mistakes.

Chamois struggles with her negative emotions. She feels jealousy (especially jealousy), anger, and loneliness as much as anybody else, but always wants to present a cool, composed face so badly to others. A lot of her self-worth (when she’s not with her family) is placed on her friendliness and charm.

Likes

Tea (obviously!)

Reading, particularly on botany and chemistry

Theatricality and dramas

Windy days

Meaningful work

Socializing with others

Sour foods

Dislikes

Practical jokes

Unreliable people

Disruptions to her schedules or plans

Alcohol

People who never or rarely complain

Preferred Result

Male; monogamous or poly is fine!

Sorry my response got a little bit away from me. Thank you again for taking match ups and I hope you have a good night!

A/N: Holy information, Batman! Thank you for being so detailed. I love how you organized it too! Very neat and considerate. Thank you!

For you, my Detailed Anon, I think your best matchup is… Gale!

Gale is the perfect match for Chamois! He’s smart and kind, and a bit awkward himself. He’s a wizard, which may put him in competition with sorcerers from time to time, but he finds he actually Chamois great company to be around because she’s much more humble and less overconfident in her abilities than typical sorcerers are. 

For sorcerers, magic comes from within, but wizards are required to study and practice in order to harness and control the natural web of magic flowing through the universe. This means Gale is a great partner to study with. He’d be very encouraging to Chamois in helping her learn more about her innate abilities. He’ll most likely suggest she look into more traditional means of magic as well, be it potions or using The Weave, just to help her gain confidence and sort of find her footing as a magic user. With his constant cheering her on, Chamois is bound to become more proficient in her natural abilities, the longer they spend time together. 

He’s also lowkey obsessed with the fact Chamois is a tea artisan, as he’s quite the avid enjoyer of tea. He insists on having at least one cup a day, and cannot quiet his mind before bed without it. Plus he was raised by a single mom, so he’s very understanding of Chamois’ closeness to her mother. 

Gale is very social. He’s also incredibly awkward. Thanks to spending much of his formative years locked away studying magic, he didn’t develop the nuanced social disciplines possessed by most adults. The good news is the two of them can be awkward together! The bad news is, it can make them a bit more obvious to others in public. But Gale doesn’t mind. Being the odd one out looking in never bothered him all that much before, why should it bother him now? 

He’s not always cheerful per se, but he does tend to look on the bright side of things. This makes him much more likely to appreciate Chamois’ sunny disposition. And he loves it when she goes off on one of her knowledge tangents! He does the same thing as well! Their niche love language is basically them taking turns info-dumping to one another. 

Gale isn’t a huge lair, although he does tend to be a bit withdrawn when meeting new people. He’s more likely to omit a detail than to tell a fib, as he’s more on the secretive side. (It’s a wizard thing.) He’s also used to being in close competition with braggarts (like Rolan and Lorrokan) so Chamois’ embellishment doesn't shock him too much. He does ask however that she remain honest with him on matters of the heart as it relates to their relationship. He’s been burned in that area before. 

I wouldn’t call Gale a coward, but he’s on the fragile side (also a wizard thing lol), so he’s often more in the back or the side of the fight as opposed to the frontlines. He’s not put off by Chamois being scared- he’s scared too. And he thinks it’s smart of her. It shows she’s paying attention, and she understands what's at stake. 

Despite how hard Chamois is on herself, Gale thinks she’s wonderful. He’s always singing her praises, telling her what great thing she did to aid the fight, no matter how minor it may be. He knows what it’s like to be hard on yourself, and he certainly knows the pain of making mistakes. He doesn't want Chamois to ever feel alone in that way. He wishes she could see herself the way he does, through his eyes. That way, maybe she’d understand how truly lovely she is. 

Gale’s traditional when it comes to love. He’s a one-lover-at-a-time kind of person. He tends to be a bit insecure in his affections, which often manifests itself as jealousy. It comes from a deep-rooted fear that he won’t be enough for his lover. (And it’s all the more recent a wound because that’s how Mystra made him feel when she abandoned him.) 

He’s not a huge drinker, but he does indulge occasionally. So Chamois better be prepared for the odd drunken declaration of true love, because he's most certainly going to get up on his soapbox and give that speech one, too many times. He really does mean everything he says- he loves her. And he thinks she’s the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Even with the tadpole, and the orb in his chest, he wouldn’t have had his life turn out any other way. 

He loves staying indoors on thundery days, with delicious tea and good books, Tera nestled between the two of them. He can hardly wait for the day their families meet, hers and the Dekarios clan, so they can be one big happy tea-selling, potion-making, magic-using family. 

[thatartiststudios]

Here's the first bit of Chapter 6 guys!

Leo meticulously checked the controls and interface of the Argo II up on deck, ensuring that their course was on track to pass Malta within another day before taking to the air and proceeding to Rome.

Back in Rayla’s room, she stirred from her sleep and found Callum sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, clearly having stayed with her the entire night.

Of course he did, she thought, appreciating the unspoken comfort in his presence.

Rayla got up and walked over to him, kneeling next to him and gently threading her hand through his hair.

“Wake up, sleepy mage,” she teased.

Callum blinked his eyes open, then focused on her right next to him.

“You slept alright?” he asked, his worry evident. She smiled, she was always his first concern.

“Better than you by the looks of it,” she remarked, and Callum chuckled, “I can assure you the floor is very comfortable.”

Rolling her eyes playfully, Rayla got up, saying, “Mmhmm, whatever you want to tell yourself.”

Callum stood as well, his caring gaze never leaving her. “You’re feeling okay? You haven’t had that dream in a while.”

Rayla glanced downward, and Callum gently took her hand, “It’s the spell you cast yesterday.”

Confused, Callum asked, “What?”

Sighing, Rayla explained, “The last time you cast that spell was right before…” They got captured by Finnegrin, Callum finished the thought in his head.

“Oh, Ray, if I’d thought about it-”

“No, you did what you had to do and it worked. That’s all,” Rayla interrupted, stopping any self-blame in its tracks.

Growing more concerned, Callum took both of her hands in his, “Look, Rayla,” he spoke softly, “I’m sorry, just let me say that for once, okay?” He understood her tendency to blame herself and wanted to offer her the comfort she deserved.

Rayla looked into Callum’s earnest eyes, recognizing the sincerity in his apology. She softened, letting go of the weight she carried.

“Okay,” she replied, her voice reflecting a mixture of gratitude and acceptance.

Callum pulled her into a gentle hug, reassuring her without words. “I’m here for you, Ray. Always,” he whispered, and she found solace in the warmth of his embrace.

They lingered in that quiet moment, each understanding the unspoken connection that bound them together. Eventually, Rayla broke the embrace, giving Callum a small smile. “Thanks,” she said, appreciating his support.

Callum returned the smile, but his eyes held a lingering concern. “If there’s anything you need, anything you want to talk about, I’m here,” he offered.

Rayla nodded, grateful for his understanding. “I know, Callum.”

—

With the key laid out before them on the deck, the group gathered for a discussion, each member bringing their unique skills to the table.

Callum, ever curious, attempted a revealing spell using Moon Magic, uttering, “Secretum Revelare.” However, the key remained unchanged, resisting the magical attempt to unveil its secrets.

Sadie, not to be outdone, invoked a revealing spell of her own with a confident, “Sun-ah,” but like Callum’s attempt, it yielded no discernible results. Frustration and intrigue mixed on their faces as they grappled with the mystery surrounding the key.

Carter studied the hieroglyphics inscribed on the key, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “‘Key of Egypt, Kingdom of the Golden Sands, Allow safe passage through The Ways,’” he mused. “It seems like a set of instructions, but the question is, what ways does it refer to?”

Rayla furrowed her brows, a hint of frustration in her voice. “If this is supposed to be a key, shouldn’t it, you know, unlock something? Like a magical barrier or a hidden entrance?”

Callum nodded in agreement. “I tried a revealing spell, but it’s like the key is impervious to Primal Magic.”

Sadie, determined to contribute, tapped her staff thoughtfully. “Maybe it requires a specific incantation, something related to Egyptian magic. My spell didn’t do the trick, but we might need something with a deeper connection to this key’s origin.”

Carter, looking at the hieroglyphics, added, “We should consider the context. ‘Key of Egypt, Kingdom of the Golden Sands’—it suggests more than a physical lock and key. Perhaps it involves traversing magical pathways specific to Egypt.”

Leo, engrossed in the technical aspect, offered, “Maybe there’s some kind of mechanism or code. Like, you have to press it or say a specific phrase. I mean, it worked for the Doors of Death, right?”

As the discussion delved deeper into their experiences in Egypt, Piper hesitated before bringing up Luxor. “Remember Luxor? The illusions there were intense, and they seemed to tap into your deepest fears.” she said, gesturing to The Kane siblings, “Do you think we’ll encounter something similar in Rome?”

Sadie, considering the question, responded, “It’s a possibility. The Collector seems to revel in using our personal history against us. Luxor was unsettling, and I wouldn’t put it past him to tailor challenges to each of us based on our vulnerabilities.”

Jason, who had been listening attentively, chimed in. “So, what could be waiting for us in Rome? What kind of trial might we face?”

Carter pondered, “Well, Luxor was about facing our past, and each of us had to confront something personal. We can only assume Rome will be similar for you and Piper. It’s hard to predict, but being aware of our experiences in Egypt might give us some clues.”

Piper added, “The Colosseum has a history of gladiator battles and public spectacles. Maybe we’ll be thrust into some sort of arena, facing not just physical challenges but emotional ones too. It could be about proving ourselves to the spectators—or The Collector.”

Rayla, who had been relatively quiet, spoke up. “We need to be prepared for anything. The illusions in Egypt were disorienting, and we shouldn’t underestimate the psychological toll they can take. We’ll need to rely on each other and stay vigilant.”

The group fell into contemplative silence, the weight of the upcoming trial hanging in the air. The Colosseum awaited, a looming arena that held mysteries yet to be unveiled.

—

Restless and unable to sleep, Callum ventured onto the deck, yearning for the crisp night air to quiet his thoughts. Leo was there, immersed in his control panel, a tune escaping his lips.

Pausing his whistle as Callum approached, Leo greeted him with a wave, “Hey, man. Having trouble sleeping?”

Callum offered a nonchalant shrug, “Something like that. What about you?”

Leo grinned, his hands still navigating the controls, “Oh, you know, just playing around with stuff, tinkering. It’s what I do when I can’t rest, part of my demigod ADHD, you know.”

As Callum leaned against the railing, watching the night sky, Leo glanced at him.

“So, Callum, you and Rayla seem pretty close. Almost like a married couple, you know?” Leo then winced. “Hope I didn’t overstep or anything.”

Callum chuckled, “Nah, you’re not the first to make that observation. Back in Katolis, people in the castle expected me to be already engaged, if not married. You know, politics as a crown prince and all that.”

Leo’s eyes widened in surprise, “Wait, you’re a prince? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Callum shrugged, “I’ve never been comfortable with the title. I just wanted to live as a mage, you know? Titles and politics never really suited me.”

Leo nodded, “Fair.”

“In all honesty,” Callum continued, “Ray and I probably would be engaged, if not for…” He trailed off, and Leo turned to him, curiosity evident, “If not for what?” Leo asked.

Callum sighed, and his gaze shifted to the stars above as he began to recount a challenging chapter in their lives. He shared the story of their journey to the Moon Nexus after the Battle at the Storm Spire, Rayla’s struggle with Viren’s apparent survival, and the rift it created between them.

“After the ritual at the Nexus, she was convinced Viren was alive. She wanted to go after him alone, and I insisted on going together. But she left in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter.” Callum’s voice carried a hint of sadness. Leo listened intently as Callum revealed the pain he felt during those two years of uncertainty and separation.

“When she returned, it was a few days after my 17th birthday,” Callum continued. “She left on my 15th birthday, so until she came back, that day was just the day she left. In Moonshadow culture, going into dark places to protect others is an act of love, similar to what her parents did by joining the Dragonguard. I couldn’t expect her to act any differently.”

Leo absorbed the revelation, gaining a deeper understanding of the complexities in Callum and Rayla’s relationship. “That’s a lot, man. But you forgave each other?”

Callum nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, after a cold welcome and another dangerous mission, we learned to forgive. It wasn’t easy, but we both had our reasons.”

Leo nodded, now more aware of the layers beneath the surface of Callum and Rayla’s connection.

Callum stared out into the night, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment, he sighed, “You know, looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so cold to her in the first place. Rayla’s always struggled to believe she deserves good things, and now she questions it even more. Sometimes, when she laughs, it’s like she doesn’t believe she deserves to be happy.”

Leo listened attentively, then leaned against the controls, crossing his arms. “Man, that’s heavy. But hey, you’re there for her now, right? That’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” Callum nodded, “I’m trying my best. I just want her to know that she deserves all the happiness in the world.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, “So, you’re like her knight in shining armor?”

Callum chuckled, “More like a mage with a staff, but yeah, something like that. But I don’t think she’d ever admit to being a damsel in distress.”

Leo grinned, “Well, she’s lucky to have you. But you’ve gotta tell her these things, not just me.”

Callum nodded in agreement, “Yeah, and I do, and I’ll keep doing it until she believes me.”

The two continued their conversation, discussing relationships, love, and the intricacies of navigating emotions. As the night progressed, Callum found solace in sharing his thoughts with Leo, and Leo gained a newfound appreciation for the complexities of the mage’s heart.

[pompompurin1028]

now you have said it, i would love to see your opinions or a character study on sigma!! we haven’t seen much about his character fully yet, but about how he was created and how his existence takes place in the bsd universe in general. im sure you would put your philosophical perspective on it too. I have not seen enough stuff about it so im curious about your opinions too if you would like to share in the future. don’t feel pressured for it please, it was just me telling im curious if you would like to share in the future haha! hope you have a wonderful day ly 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thank you for your interest dear anon <3 Honestly, I would love to do something like that for Sigma but we really don't have much to go off from at the moment, which is kinda upsetting because Sigma has so much potential in my opinion! (I'll share it down below since it's like I have enough for a bit but not too much and honestly most of it is more of what I feel Sigma could do for the narrative/theme rather than only on Sigma himself I apologize)

From a philosophical perspective, Sigma is very interesting from a perspective of studying being, or in other words what "to be" means, that sort of thing (though I will not dare say I am extremely knowledgeable on ontology orz). So he has a lot of potential :). This was something I wrote in Discord before but let me reiterate a bit. Sigma's whole character sort of makes us question how we come to be in the world. I mean, sure, we are not written into a book and born without memory, but we like Sigma cannot control the fact that we are born into the world, into circumstances we cannot determine

As @/daz4i out in this post, the whole DOA arc reveals the existential horror that is embedded within our daily lives! It would also be interesting for the characters in bsd to explore this idea through this angle, especially paired with the existential theme bsd has going on because it shows that like oh, we can't really just choose what we want to do, we're still bound by other things in the world, our society and we could just die with a flip of a button of One Order if Fukuchi chose to. This reveals the deep interdependence we have going on and shows that (in Judith Butler's words) the idea of the self is always situated in an “elaboration [...] of social bonds”. This would then reveal this tension between the fact that we are basically kind of in situations we cannot control but also the fact that in a sense we also determine how things turn out (or a better wording would be we are born and influenced by historical and social contexts that shape us as a person but at the same time we are also shaping these historical and social conditions) <- this is something I'm academically interested in rn so excuse me for just dumping my thoughts orz (it is also fascinating since this applies not only to a existential standpoint but also to theories in language, literary interpretation and on selfhood. Anyways....)

I just think Sigma's character has the potential to move the narrative and theme in this direction because he is literally a character born from a book, and it could lead the characters to enquire in a self-reflexive way about their own being as a character of a story. And it would be quite interesting since the act of thinking of oneself as a character which in a sense doesn't have control has some parallels to the existential horror thing I mentioned earlier...

Anyways I hope this makes sense and thank you for letting me share my thoughts with you <3

I know this is an ask about Sigma mainly but yeah... but of course, I cannot say I am certain bsd will move in this direction :( I really would like to do a character study on only Sigma but I think Sigma's potential works best with other people! Maybe someday I'll figure something out <3

Edit: (because I forgot to write some other thoughts😔)

I would love if bsd would pair Chuuya, Dazai and Sigma together and explore the idea of what humanity means. This was sort of raised in the sky casino arc with the idea of superhuman vs normal humans but I want more >:(. Sigma is a curious character since I don't even know if we would categorize him as human? I hadn't read stormbringer yet so I can't speak on Chuuya but it's interesting that Dazai being human feels inhuman yet Sigma who is and can be said to he inhuman is presented as a normal human.

[lipsticksamurai]

Acknowledge that all emotions come from within

It is not outside forces that make us feel something, it is what we tell ourselves that create our feelings. 

Many of us want to place blame and responsibility on external objects because it’s easy to do, but the truth remains that all conflicts start internally, in our minds.

The next time you run into an obstacle and feel resistance, don’t look at what’s around you. Instead, look within.

Find someone you respect, and use them to stay honest

Whatever you do—create apps, draw portraits, write books, or make animation films—there are individuals that you can learn from. You can study their story, works, techniques, successes and failures.

What’s important to realize is that this isn’t an exercise of comparison. 

How can you learn from your heroes? How are their teachings and principles helping you grow, learn, and create? 

Everyone, no matter how successful they are, has heroes/mentors to look towards.

Recognize there is life after failure

You can spend months or even years on a project, only to watch it be criticized, or worse, ignored.

That’s what failure feels like when you share a part of you. But recovering from that failure is a practice, a mindset—in fact, the lessons that I internalized from that experience is helping me do better work. The thinking goes: 

No failure, no growth.

Read purposefully, and apply your knowledge

Reading prepares your mind, even helps you avoid foolish mistakes, but at the end of it all there must be the result of some action: a failure, maybe a success, or a lesson.

The purpose of education is to internalize knowledge but ultimately spark action and facilitate wiser decisions. Reading self-help books will, in that moment, make you feel inspired for a change. But are you following your principles when you have a troll, rude customer, or angry stranger in your face?

Challenge yourself to be brutally honest

“Why, exactly, am I feeling this way?” Get to the bottom of that. Investigate it. Dissect it. 

When you feel resistance, use that as a cue to go forward. The challenge, of course, is training yourself to think that way.

This isn’t about talent or some unconscious reflex. The practice of self-awareness—to think about your thinking—in how you think, feel, and behave is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it becomes.

Reflect on what you spend the most time on

People who do excellent work, who master their craft, do so because of their ability to prioritize. They honor every hour of their day.

Although little breaks throughout our days are okay, we must be mindful of how we interact with our distractions (or is that addictions?).

A lot of spectating and flicking our finger on Guerrilla Glass is time that could be spent creating the stuff that people want to see.

Remind yourself: you weren’t meant to procrastinate

Etymologically, “procrastination” is derived from the Latin verb procrastinare — to put off until tomorrow. But it’s more than just voluntarily delaying.

“It’s self-harm,” said Dr. Piers Steel, a professor of motivational psychology at the University of Calgary

• Keep a To-Do List.

• Prioritize your To-Do List using

• Become a master of scheduling and project planning.

• Tackle the hardest tasks at your peak times

• Set yourself time-bound goals

• Use task- and time-management apps.

Put the phone away and be present

To be present as well as learning to be alone is a habit. Some people are really good at it because they make time to do it.

Take a few deep breathes, put your phone on vibrate so there’s no chance of interruption, and just reflect on the series of events that took place throughout your day.

Let your mind focus on the task at hand, what you’re trying to accomplish, and do it with diligence, patience, and care. Sooner, you’ll realize how much of an asset this is to your overall quality of life.

Remind yourself that time is our most precious resource

I realize that everyday truly is an opportunity to improve, to learn to honestly appreciate what we are capable of achieving and how we are very responsible for the quality of our lives.

This makes our self-respect, work ethic, generosity, self-awareness, attention, and growth evermore important. The last thing any of us wants to do is die with regret, hence why following principles of Stoicism puts your life into perspective. It humbles you and should also deeply motivate you.

Nothing, to my way of thinking, is a better proof of a well ordered mind than a man’s ability to stop just where he is and pass some time in his own company.

- Seneca

[mielicy]

do u believe in magic?

Do you believe in magic? It's something I've asked myself my whole life. The answer is always yes. How lifeless I would be without magic?

Well, when I was a teenager, I think I lost touch with it. I could never trust my own influence. I thought of myself so small, how could I impact the reality of anything around me, even myself? Feeling small makes you at the mercy of the changing tides around you. It doesn't make you powerless though. Which is dangerous, because if you are wielding power that you're unaware of, you are bound to do damage, and then blame everything besides yourself. How could I be the villain? I'm nothing, aren't I?

Who told you that? Do you trust them?

The thing about magic though, is that it's not good or bad. It's just the ability to alchemize what's happening within yourself, and turn it into material change. It's a want, a goal, and a journey. It's life. And sometimes, we don't know what we want. We don't know what to do, we don't know where to go. And the uncertainty of that can be difficult to trudge through. Why? 

I think it's because this culture is so fast paced, and looks down on you for looking back. Why pause and look back when everything new is in front of you? 

Well, it's the same reason we study history. To learn from our mistakes.

I think if we were allowed the time and grace to detangle our thoughts from our feelings, we would all be better equipped to carry more magic in our lives. Now it's just go go go, work work work, obey obey obey. Where is the time to cultivate a practice for yourself? There is none, and if you find it, you must be lazy. Not productive enough. Your worth is assigned to you based on how much you can contribute to society, don’t you remember? 

Who told you that? Do you trust them?

I like to say that time is change, and change is time. And magic is our ability to influence that change through our own desires. We access it through the power of choice. We don't always get what we want. Nothing is truly certain in this world, but that means that everything can be pushed, one way or another. It only takes time to see that change come in. And there's a fine balance between being comfortable in the inherent uncertainty of any situation, and knowing what you want. Because that knowing is comforting, but if we get too attached to it, we will start to feel a dissonance between our actions, and the world around us. We have to stay grounded in the time we’re in to see the change we want. Otherwise, that change becomes an unattainable fantasy, uprooted from reality.

It goes deeper than that though. Because of the fast paced nature of this culture, it becomes very easy to skip past important truths, and lessons in order to keep up with everybody else. So when I say we must stay grounded in the time we are in to see the change we want, that doesn't always mean we are seeing the time we are in authentically. And if we aren't seeing our foundation, our ground, authentically, the change we want, will always be an unattainable fantasy.

So what is magic without truth? What is change without truth? What are you without truth? An unattainable fantasy. It's like trying to climb stairs but the steps are made of rotten wood. With every step you take, you will find more decay. And if you never look down, you will never get to where you want to be, no matter how hard you try.

What's worse, I think, is when people do look down, and decide they are more comfortable with the decay that they know, than trying to forge a new path. Its fear, I get it. But at a certain point we must reckon with the death around us, and ask if it's worth it. If this complacency and comfort in rotten wood is worth the damage. We should also ask ourselves, what made us think that we can determine the worth of anything outside of ourselves? Probably the same thing that made us think our worth is assigned to us based on what we contribute to society. 

I think that's the lie that so many of us operate on. That we have to work to gain any sort of worth. That worth is assigned to us, not innate in our existence. Because working off of a lie, there is only so far we can go in seeing the change we want to see, regardless of the time it takes.

If you don't see the innate worth of yourself, you most definitely can't see it in other beings. What harm will you do when your focus is on attaining worthiness instead of seeing and valuing the inherent worth that is already abundant? What truths will you miss when you dismiss the time we’re in for the change you want? And what magic will you make if your power is inauthentic?

[awakeclub]

HOW TO BECOME RICH & (AT THE END) WEALTHY?

Wealth Creation

Becoming affluent is an acquirable expertise.

Prioritizing the creation of wealth surpasses the pursuit of status symbols.

Money functions as a tool traded for goods and services.

To generate affluence, contribute value to society.

True wealth entails owning assets that generate income as you rest.

Skills

Becoming perpetually educated is the paramount skill for achieving wealth.

The goal is to acquire expertise that sets you apart when the demand for those skills arises.

Master both the art of selling and the craft of building. If you can excel in both, your potential knows no bounds.

Reading

Devoting an hour each day to studying disciplines such as science, math, and philosophy is likely to position you within the highest ranks of human achievement. Reading in general is one of the pillars of success

Immerse yourself in subjects you are passionate about until that passion translates into a love for reading itself.

Dedicating one to two hours daily to reading places you in the most exceptional 0.00001 percent.

Leverage

Maintaining a traditional 9–5 job often poses challenges in wealth creation.

Relying solely on exchanging time for money is unlikely to lead to affluence, as time is a finite resource. Harness leverage (through labor, assets, and capital) to magnify your impact.

Asset ownership serves as the lever that constructs wealth and augments income.

Play Long-Term Games With Long-Term People

The principle of compounding operates across relationships, businesses, and finances. Instant success is rare; persistence is key.

Continue investing effort in significant endeavors that require time. Your aim is achievement over the span of years and decades, not just within short intervals of days or weeks.

Freedom

The primary motivation for many individuals to seek wealth is to attain freedom. True freedom involves commanding your time, unlike the constraints of a typical 9–5 job.

This concept of freedom evolves from "freedom to" do something to "freedom from" certain limitations.

Freedom is an intrinsic state. It pertains to emancipation from reactivity, anger, and sadness.

Play To You and Work For Others

Find what you love to do, and you will enjoy it.

When you are passionate about something, it is not a job anymore, it is a necessity.

What may seem hard to others is a delight and a source of motivation.

What’s that thing for you?

Happiness is Learned

Happiness is an acquirable skill that can be cultivated over time. We possess the ability to learn how to cultivate happiness and direct our attention towards the present and more significant aspects of life. True happiness arises when the feeling of something lacking in our lives is dispelled.

Life is a Single-Player Game

Many of our life pursuits are driven by the desire for validation from both our parents and society. In truth, you come into this world alone and will depart from it in the same manner. Your perceptions and recollections are inherently personal experiences. Ultimately, you're in competition with yourself, striving for self-improvement and growth.

Know Yourself

Find your own path.

We try hard to mold ourselves into society to get validation.

The way to get out of the competition trap is to be authentic, to find the thing you know how to do better than anybody.

No one in the world is going to beat you at being you.

Priorities and Decisions

When a matter holds true priority, you'll uncover a means to accomplish it.

Life's three significant priorities encompass prosperity, well-being, and contentment.

Early in life, you make three pivotal choices: your place of residence, your companions, and your occupation.

Find your Passion and Be the Best

It's feasible to excel in just one or two areas simultaneously, typically those you're fervently fixated on.

Channel your energy into subjects that captivate your curiosity. Recognize your strengths and extend assistance to others. Share your expertise.

Engage in benevolent actions. In due time, your aspirations are likely to materialize.

YOU ARE WONDERFUL

You will do what you want with your life but:

STOP BEING A BITCH

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[teddy06writes]

You Didn't Need Us Then, We Don't Need You Now

Requested by this anon: "Okay I thought of this idea during Fundy's stream. Quackity and reader were engaged to Karl and Sapnap, but they left because of Karl losing his memory and Sapnap paying more attention to him. Quackity and reader then created Las Navadas to try and cope with everything that's happened to them. They created a little wedding area where they planned to get married with Sap and Karl. Flash forward to a year or two later, Karl and Sap stumble across Las Navadas and their two former fiancees. And they see everything they've done, including the little wedding area. which is perfectly designed as to how they wanted their wedding together. That's is as far as I got to the imagine in my head. If you could make a fic out of it that would be cool. If not at least you have this cute imagine in your head! 😊"

{Okay, so- so man feels, so many ideas. I haven't seen all of the Los Nevadas streams yet because I've got a lot of school stuff going on, but, I think I have a pretty good idea of what's going on. [also Slime from The Ground my beloved]}

Quackity x reader; Past: Sapnap x Karl x Quackity x reader

trigger warnings: maybe some swearing, slight descriptions of a panic attack, slight drinking

premise: After L'manburg was destroyed, two of your fiancées seemed to disappear. With just Sapnap left, you had been scared, but he assured you that the right thing to do was split up to try and find Quackity and Karl. And, well, you found Quackity, but when He found Karl.... something else had taken over, and suddenly Kinoko Kingdom was more important than finding you and quackity again. But thats fine. You and Quackity had been together in the begining, so what did you need from the other two? Las Nevadas could fill the void they left,,, and it did, until they happened to come knocking, right as you were finally moving on.

{Also, parental unit for everyone in Las Nevadas, I love it, brain is going brr so hard}

{also also, purpled is the forgotten eldest child of the server and no the ufo does not get blown up}

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"It's gone, (y/n) it's all gone," You said with disbelief, staring over the barren, ashy place that had once been L'manburg and El Rapids, "We couldn't stop him."

Sapnap took in a shaky breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "We were never could have. Even if the supplies weren't destroyed."

The remaining people had already cleared out, but you had only now come to see the damage, having been forced away from the battle by your fiancées.

"I could have helped." You fell to your knees, still staring at the wreckage.

Sapnap could only sigh at the broken look on your face. You had lost the only home you'd ever known, but what had he lost? Well, for one thing, Karl.

Karl was still no where to be found, and now it seemed that Quackity had disappeared.

He fiddled with the purple band that circled one of his fingers, "Look- we- we need to find Quackity and Karl. Q looked pretty bad the last time I saw him, and Karl-"

Resolutely you nodded, dragging yourself to stand, "Karl is Karl. He'll be happy that his statue missed being blown up. I think its Q we should be worried about. This place- El Rapids- that was everything to him."

"Well- how about you go find Quackity, and I go find Karl. We're bound to find them eventually if we split up." He offered.

You studied the look on his face, "You're covering for him. What's going on?"

Sapnap only shook his head.

Crossing your arms you turned toward the hill, and what was left of the prime path, "Quackity has the deed to some land. North of Spawn. Meet us there once you kind K, alright?"

"Okay." He said softly, leaning over to press a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Be safe." You advised, already starting away.

~~

It didn't take you very long to track down your Fiancé, in all the time you'd known him (much longer than you'd known the others), he hadn't changed too much.

So, when you made your way through the twisted paths near Pogtopia, he was up on the ridge, sitting on the rock that had for so long, doubled as a bench.

"It's good to see you're safe." You hugged your arms to your body, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

As soon as you were sitting next to him, he was leaning on you, "He destroyed everything- all that work- El Rapids-"

"I know." You wrapped your arms around him, finally letting your own tears fall, "I know."

"What are we gonna do? I just wanted a place for us- I just- I wanted to make a place for us- all we asked for was recognition- and now the only place that saw was recognizing us is gone."

It had taken a while for Quackity to stop talking about everything that had been destroyed. Even then he kept asking, "But- Just wanted to make a place for you guys, how are we gonna do that now?"

"We can still make a place," You assured him, even as you yourself were unsure, "We'll make our own little country. So far out where no one will be able to blow it up."

He seemed to take to the idea quickly, and that night, as the two of you sat together in the camp that had been made within the caverns of Pogtopia, he talked feverently of the country you two would make.

He talked of buildings, of businesses, and of wedding venues. The plans he made up that night, they were almost enough to make you forget about what had happened to your home.

"What about that land north of spawn?" You suggested, letting your head rest back on his shoulder.

Quackity thought about it for a moment, "I mean- its just some desert, but I think we could make it work."

"Good, I told Sap to meet us there once he found Karl."

He nodded, "We'll head up there, and start getting everything ready, and then when they're ready they can come up."

~~ This was how three months came to pass, with the busyness of planning the new city, the beginning of construction, the meetings with Sam to plan for the new economic system that the new country would spread through the lands.

Yet you still felt off. It had been that long and Karl and Sapnap had never returned, something must have gone horribly, horribly wrong. It nagged at you, constantly, Drove you sick with anxiety somedays.

"(y/n)."

You looked up from the designs for the next casino you had been going over, "Sam! I didn't know you were visiting today! What can I do for you?"

"Uhhh, I wasn't planning on it, you better come out here- it's Quackity, we had been discussing- some things. I don't know what happened but when he passed back through-" The creeper hybrid trailed off.

You quickly stood, rushing passed him and through the hall to the courtyard where Sam had left him, gasping for breath and tugging at his hair.

In an instant you were kneeling beside him, "Breath baby, breath."

"They- he- George- Kinoko- Sap- left- on purpose-" He blubbered.

"Hey, Q," You took his hands as gently as you could, "look at me. Breath, breath with me. Come on, breath."

Slowly, he began to calm down, and by the time Sam was long gone he slowly began to explain what happened.

"I was heading back from talking with Sam, I saw George outside the prison. He kept talking about something- about- Kinoko Kingdom..." He sighed.

"Kinoko- what?" You asked, confused.

He let his head drop into his hands, "Karl and Sapnap.... started another country- called Kinoko Kingdom... they didn't even wait for us."

You felt your heart drop, if you hadn't been holding his hands yours would've been shaking, "What-"

Quackity could only nod shakily as he pulled you into his arms.

"I told him to come back here- I told- why didn't they-" You muttered absently.

The only noise in the courtyard was from the fountains, and the small sniffles from the two of you.

You were still in a state of semi-shock and sadness when you felt his arms tighten around you.

"We don't need them anyway. Las Nevada's can prosper without them."

~~ "Purpled? You want to get him in on this?" Quackity frowned.

You shrugged, "He's a mercenary, he could be of some help around here."

Your fiancé studied your face for a moment, "No, that's not it. Why do you really want him here?"

"Look, he's-" You sighed, "The kids been through a lot. He doesn't really have anything anymore, he needs somewhere, someone at least. We owe that too him at least."

After a moment, he nodded, "I haven't spoken to him since I paid him for his help with that egg mess. He- didn't seem to like me being around."

"I'll try to find him, he'd talk to me, I'm sure of it." You stood up from your seat at the table.

"You're going now?" He asked, following you across to the coat room.

You nodded, tugging on your boots, "If I want to make it through to the Greater SMP before it gets dark. I'll see if Eret will let me stay the night, then I'll head out again."

"Be careful." Quackity advised once you were ready.

You pecked at his lips, "I always am."

The journey to the Greater SMP went quickly, and after a nights stay in Eret's castle, you had made your way to the UFO, disappointed to find it seemingly abandoned.

"How the hell am I supposed to find him if the one place he ever seems to be is empty." You muttered, glancing around the base of the UFO.

You shrugged off your knapsack, dropping it to the side, followed by the sword that had been at your hip, and then you began to climb.

Even the inside of the UFO was completely empty, devoid of any chests, crafting tables, or furnaces.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

You jumped, turning to find Purpled, in full netherite, sword gripped tight in his hand.

"I- We've been looking for you." You fumbled for an explanation, holding up your hands in a sort of surrender.

He scoffed, "I already did a job for you people, I'm busy now."

"Not for a job Purpled!" You couldn't help but exclaim, "Some people actually try to find you for more than just that."

"Then what do you want?" He snapped.

"Did Q tell you about Nevadas?"

Purpled frowned, "Yeah, he mentioned it."

"Well, I think you should join. Come in on the project."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

You sighed, "Look, Purpled, you- everyone here, in this smp, they don't care, they don't bother to know you. You- you don't really have a place here-"

"You think I don't know that?" Purpled's grip on his sword tightened.

"So, If you come with us, join Las Nevadas, you can have a place- have people who care. You need people, Purpled."

"I don't Need anyone." He insisted.

You sighed, "Someday your going to have to see that that's not true. Please consider joining Las Nevadas, no one here cares, but we do."

"That's not true," He said bitterly, "You just need me to do another god damned job."

With a shake of your head you turned, preparing for the climb back down, "Purpled, this smp isn't kind to children, but I think it's been the most unfair to you. Out here your being forgotten, but you might not be if you join us."

~~

At the base of the UFO you were surprised to find a strange, slimly looking boy digging through your bag.

"Hey!" You yelled, "Don't touch that! It's not yours!"

He looked up and froze, realizing he'd been caught.

You snatched your things away from him, quickly unsheathing your sword, "Who are you?"

"Uhhhh, I'm a meat person- same as you!" He offered.

"You- you're- uh-" You sputtered for a moment confused, "Why were you touching my things?"

"Uhhhhh, Dap me up!" He said avoiding the question.

You stared at him for a moment, "I don't have time for this."

As you started back toward the prime path you heard him call, "Nice to meet you (y/n) from Las Nevadas!"

"How do you know my name?" You demanded, whirling around.

"Oh, I know a lot of things." He laughed, "I see lots 'a stuff."

You frowned, "Uh huh. I'm gonna- walk away now."

~~ A week had passed, and there was still no signs of Purpled, nor Fundy or Foolish, (both of whom Quackity had gone to speak to whilst you were away), coming to Las Nevadas.

You were sure that Purpled would come around eventually, but had no faith that anyone else would join Las Nevadas, until you had heard a strange noise in the night.

It had been a cross between a clang and a yell, and then almost like something being dragged.

You had been going over some of the contracts you had been preparing for if anyone ever did show up when you'd heard it, and your fiancé seem to be gone from his own office, and your bedroom even, so quickly you armed yourself with your sword before hurrying out after the noise.

The streets of Las Nevadas were still partially lit by street lamps as you hurried along, it didn't take you long to find your fiancé, just outside of city limits, pacing In front of a strange looking hole.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed.

"Hey! It's (y/n) from Las Nevadas!"

You jumped at the voice, turning to see that no, the hole wasn't green, that the same slime boy from before was sitting in it.

"You! What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed.

"Quackity from Las Nevadas put me in this hole!" He said cheerfully.

Quackity grabbed your shoulder, turning you away from Slime and the hole, "You know him?"

"He was trying to look through my stuff after I talked to Purpled," You explained, glancing back over at the hole, "Said he sees just about everything, uhh, as far as I can tell, he's like the hybrids- but- weirder."

"Nope! I'm just a totally goopless guy! I'm bones and stuff!" He called from the hole.

"Oh god we have crazy people here." Quackity muttered scrubbing a hand over his face.

You moved to crouch next to the hole, "What- uh- What are you doing here buddy?"

"Oh I'm just oozing around. Dap me up!"

Confused, you complied, nervously laughing as he grinned at the handshake.

"I found him spying in the restaurant." Quackity sighed.

"What's spying?" The boy in the hole asked, "I just listen."

"Yeah well tell me exactly what you heard or I'll ill you right now!" Quackity threatened, pulling out his sword.

He hummed, "Well, I saw you, and I saw (y/n) from Las Nevadas. And there was a green guy, and a purple guy. I know of a Red guy, dead guy but he's not dead anymore-"

Your breath hitched, "Dead guy?"

"Yeah, looked real ashy- maybe even ...sooty?..." He confirmed.

Quackity glanced back at you, "And he's not dead anymore?"

"No. He's weird now. Got gray hair instead of grey skin. Used to run a country- got blown up though."

"How much have you seen man?" You asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, "I mean, I move slow but I've seen a lot. Lately a lot of conversations about taking advantage of the ever so fragile human psyche through gambling."

"Holy shit." you muttered.

Quackity glared up into the night sky, almost looking for an answer.

Shifting closer too look at the boy you frowned, "What's all that green stuff?"

"Oh- those are just- my totally normal- human parts! I'm a person!" He grinned.

You sighed, "Uhh, look, what's your name? Like how I'm (y/n) from Las Nevadas, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm goop from the ground!" He smiled for a moment before realizing his mistake, "I mean- I'm a meat person!"

Quackity still seemed to be praying to the sky, not paying any attention.

"Goop from the ground," You muttered, slowly connecting the dots, "Well, uhh, goop, how bout I give you a regular person name?"

"A person name? Oh boy!" He laughed.

You thought for a moment longer, "How about- Charlie?"

Charlie grinned, somehow even wider than before, "Woah! I have a real human name! Like any other regular human meat person!"

"Yep, you do." You chuckled.

"And, to be clear, I definitely am one of those, and not a piece of goop, that's slowly come to the surface, hiding as a person!"

As you continued to talk with Charlie, Quackity seemed to come to a realization, "He's like an accidental spy!"

And, when you helped him out of the hole Quackity was quick to say, "Well, this- this- was- was uh a formal greeting! Yeah that's what we call them!"

"Wow!" Charlie mused.

The walk back to Las Nevadas was quiet, until Charlie turned to you, "(y/n) from Las Nevadas, if I'm Charlie- where- where?"

You smiled, "Do you want to be Charlie from Las Nevadas?"

~~

By the end of the same week, after having gotten Charlie fully on board, and slight agreement from Foolish, word finally came from Purpled.

You'd been working on the next phase of the whole Nevadas Project when Charlie rushed in, "(y/n) from Las Nevadas! There's someone here!"

You frowned, "Who?"

"Purpled from UFO!" He practically yelled.

Standing, you tucked your papers away, "That's perfect Charlie, thank you. Do you want to come with to help show him around?"

He nodded, following you out of your office.

Outside, you found Purpled, along with his dog, looking up at the casino in awe.

"Purpled! You came!" You called cheerfully.

The boy turned, a strange expression you couldn't read on his face, "What? No 'I told you so'? No 'I knew you'd come around eventually'?"

You shrugged, "I'm just glad you finally came."

He sighed, "It's not like they needed me anywhere else."

You put a hand on his shoulder, "That's alright, We need you here."

"They- I went to tell Ponk I was leaving," Purpled sounded too broken, too tired, "He said he was too busy to talk to me."

Before you could say anything, he continued, "I had a house, near L'Manhole. I- I uh blew it up, to see what would happen," His shoulders began to shake, ever so slightly, as he finished in a whisper, "No one even noticed."

In one quick move you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug, "It's okay Kid, it'll be okay now."

That was how your fiancé found you, standing outside the main casino, a teen all but sobbing into your shirt, Charlie looking on confused.

~~

And so, the time passed, Las Nevadas grew, and you and your new little family did along with it.

Quackity found it funny, really, your ability to bring people onto your side be connecting with them emotionally, and as he put it, all but adopting them.

Charlie still took up a room in the apartments you and Quackity staid in above the offices. Purpled would come over when things around the country weren't so busy, and you'd talk for hours, Foolish joining in some of the time.

Fundy, on his first night in the city, had broken down to you, the same as Purpled, but you'd helped him put himself together. Though Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo didn't have official places in Las Nevadas, it seemed a chunk of their time was spent there.

Yep, that was your new strange family. You, Your fiancé and the kids but not really young enough to still be kids you accidently adopted.

Now, you reflected on this quietly, from the top of the needle.

"You okay?" Quackity asked softly, looking over at you.

You chuckled softly, "Can you believe that it's been two years?"

"No, can you?"

You shook your head, "You know, I've been thinking. A long time ago, you told me we were better off with out Karl and Sapnap."

He watched silently, as you pulled the other two rings that you had kept, holding them up by the chain they were strung on.

"Maybe- you were right- and maybe it's finally time to get married. Just us. We didn't need them to get here, we won't need them for anything else."

A small smile slipped onto Quackity's lips, "Would you marry me?"

"You already know the answer to that." You chuckled.

"So it's a yes?"

"Obviously." You scoffed.

"When should we have the ceremony then?" He asked.

"Right now," You mused, "We opened that wedding hall for a reason, right? We could get married proper, right now. It's already decorated the way Tubbo originally planed."

He laughed, "Let's do it tomorrow that way we have time to get like, notices out and shit."

You smiled, "Of course."

The sun had begun to set during this discussion, and you looked out over the peaceful landscape with a soft sigh, yes, this, this was home.

And even as you heard Charlie tripping and crashing his way up the stairs, the thought still filled your head.

"Quackity and (y/n) from Las Nevadas!" He exclaimed, "Purpled from Las Nevadas found some people by the border!"

In an instant, both you and Quackity were standing, "What were they doing?"

"Looking around, real weird like. Fundy From Las Nevadas said they might be here to attack us! I hope they aren't."

You followed Quackity past him and back down from the tower, drawing your sword as Charlie called out where he had left Purpled and the mystery people.

What you found was not what you expected.

Purpled stood, sword drawn and pointed at the men you least expected to see now.

Karl looked scared, tucked back behind Sapnap who was moving to draw his own sword.

Not another move!" You barked, moving to stand in line with Purpled.

Karl's face light up upon seeing you, "(y/n)! Quackity! I missed you!"

"Did you?" Quackity spit.

"Sapnap drop your sword." You commanded, not paying attention to the strange look on their faces, no one, and I mean no, pulled a sword on your family.

He frowned, "Wh- (y/n) don't be like that. I get it- but- why..."

"What are your intentions? Why have you come here?" You asked.

"We wanted to find you!" Karl said, "We missed you (y/n)."

"Uhh, that's (y/n) from Las Nevadas to you." Charlie said.

Quackity sighed, grabbing Charlie by the collar and pulling him back, "Sorry- he's been learning sass and sarcasm lately."

"Still, what are you doing here?" You pushed.

"We wanted to find you! You've been gone so long, we thought we'd go looking." Sapnap explained.

"We've been gone?" You scoffed, "You were the ones who disappeared."

Karl moved forward, grabbing your left hand, and Quackity's right, "We just wanted to come back, to finally get married."

You pulled away, slowly sheathing your sword, "You can't be serious?"

"What do you mean?" Karl asked, the smile just beginning to drip off his face.

"You fucking left us- We were just trying to make a place for the four of us to be safe and you left us! And now you want back? Out of the blue?" Your voice steadily grew louder, "You cannot show up here after abandoning us like that!"

Quackity gently took your hand, murmuring, "(y/n)..."

"No. They don't get to do this!" You turned to him, watching his face change upon seeing the mix of anger and sadness in your eyes.

"W- We'll talk about this tomorrow, away from the kids," He asserted, for once not earning any protest about age from Purpled or Fundy, "Charlie, you think you can take these guys on a tour of the place?"

He nodded eagerly, "This way this way!"

As Sapnap, Karl, Purpled and FUndy began to trudge after him, Quackity turned to you, "(y/n)?"

You just shook your head, pulling your hand out of his and starting away.

~~ Purpled had followed the tour party quietly, taking a page from Charlie's book and watching, observing everything.

He had seen the pain in your face at the suggestion of marriage, and the anger in Quackity's just upon seeing them.

So, he followed the men warily, watching the way Karl exclaimed about how he had built an Effile tower just like the one in the city in Manberg, and the way that Sapnap mentioned fondly how the décor at the wedding hall matched the ones you two had always spoken about.

Hearing it nearly drove him mad. Did they not realize that it had all been for them? That dreams of them arriving were the only thing that had ruled Your and Quackity's minds?

When Charlie had directed the group, which by now included some of the other tourists, past one of the bars, he stopped.

Inside, Quackity was slumped at the bar, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

"Drinking away your problems won't solve them." Purpled sighed, pulling the bottle away from him.

"We were doing so good without them. You know that Purp. But here they are, back and ready to fuck things up again. That's how it's always been." He muttered.

The boy shook his head, "They don't realize how destructive they are? Do they?"

"Never have." He sighed.

"Lets get you back home."

Quackity allowed himself to be manhandled into standing, and then led out of the bar, back toward the offices, and toward the apartment.

"(y/n) will figure it out. They always do." Purpled assured him, pulling open the apartment door and ushering him in.

"But they shouldn't have too," He sighed, running a hand through his hair, not bothered by the way his beanie fell to the floor, "They've dealt with so much without help. Yet they're always the ones to help us."

~~

Once he had wrangled Quackity into the bedroom, Purpled headed back out, finding Fundy at the base of the Needle, "They up there?"

"Yeah," The hybrid sighed, "Quackity?"

"Got drunk. He's- painfully coherent though." He winced.

Fundy ran a hand through his hair, "It's hard to believe one of the nicest people around is the one to fuck them up like this."

"Makes perfect sense to me," Purpled said as they began to make their way toward the stairs, "My first night here- I was having a hard time, because- the whole server acted like I didn't exist. (y/n) told me about how Sapnap and Karl had abandoned them."

"Did it seem this bad though?" Fundy asked.

"No- but that was before they turned up again talking about marriage."

By now they had reached the top of the tower, and Purpled could see where you sat by the ledge, feet dangling over. Quietly, they both sat down on either side of you.

"How's Q?" You asked quietly after a moment.

"Drunk, but back at your apartment, well supplied with water." Purpled reported.

You nodded, "And K and- Karl and Sapnap?"

"Waaay to blissfully ignorant." Fundy said.

Quiet held you three in silence for a moment, until at last Purpled sighed, asking, almost bitterly, "So- are you gonna marry them? You were going to once."

"Even if I did it wouldn't change anything here." You mumbled.

"Sapnap was talking about how cool it would be to come back and visit from Kinoko after the honeymoon." Fundy admitted.

Before you could say anything Purpled drew one of his knees to his chest, "I- don't- it feels like they'd be taking you away from us- I like it the way it is. Things are nice, and they're just fucking it up."

Fundy nodded, "As much as I hate to say it, he's right. If you people all get married nothing will be the same. I kind of liked having parental figures, I don't want them messing that up."

"They won't." You promised softly.

By god, if you hadn't already made up your mind, their words would've swayed you.

~~ After a while, you stood, "Let's go home."

They followed you tiredly, Charlie joining the mini procession at one intersection, telling you that Sapnap and Karl had gone to get a hotel room.

At the apartment, Quackity was sitting on the couch, already seeming more sober than Purpled had told you. When you sat next to him, his arms were quick to wrap around you, holding you like a lifeline.

Charlie took his place on the other side of the couch, Purpled curled up in the armchair, and Fundy dug around until he found one of the old projectors he'd left there, queuing up a movie.

"Hey, just like on Nightmare's days!" Charlie laughed, referring to the infamous 16th, where, just about every month it seemed you, Fundy, Quackity and sometime Purpled would have nightmares of the Manburg Pogtopia war, and everyone would congregate in the living room to watch one of Fundy's movies.

"Sure as hell feels like one." Quackity muttered.

And so you watched the movie, though your thoughts drifted, thinking of how you would deal with your reappearing ex-fiancés.

As you thought, you created a mini script in your head. Exactly what you would say came you.

"You didn't need us then, and we don't need you now."

Yes, you thought, leaning more into Quackity's side, thats what you'd say, after you talked about your new family.

(and the next day, you did just that)