#puppeteer 2 fic

[north-noire]

When the Marionette finds itself awake in a workshop room, she soon comes to a realization there was more going on to what had happened to the child she was assigned to protect.

Hidden Hands Chapter 6 is out! AO3 Fic Link Here Previous Chapter Beginning Chapter

Hey, I would appreciate it if you reblog this post! I try my hardest for this AU fic, so reblogging it and being able to share it goes a long way!

[sinfullyrosey]

Y/N: *gently holding P’s face in their hands* A good boy, a precious boy! The sweetest boy in all of Krat!~

P: *springs whirring in happiness* 

Carlo: *totally not jealous over the lack of attention* Hey, what about me? 

Y/N: *looks over at Carlo with an unimpressed look* And you… You are a naughty boy, a mischievous scoundrel. The most troublesome boy in all of Krat. *goes back to cooing over P*

Carlo: They seriously prefer that puppet over me?!

Romeo: Looks like it.

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[ckret2]

God your fic is fenomenal i was daydreaming about it right now and book 2 yelling at ford came into my head and then a scene where book 2 and ford are arguing and bills in the middle translating/adding his to cents and book of bill just the suportive bf on the side of book 2 no idea how acurate this is(probably not even a little) but its funny my mind like formated the argument like a kid yelling at their parent on why they hate them like "you book marked my pages" gives "you hit me/broke my phone" and arguing that ford was bad dad and idk why bill was like jumping in like "yea ford you suck how could you freze your son for 30+ years that shit parenting" this was a verry funny day dream and i love your fic and art so much its consuming me (this was probably wish fufilment/me projecting on book 2 haha its ok book 2 my parents also had a messy break up)

I.. please tell me if i should of kept this to myself

"yea ford you suck how could you freze your son for 30+ years that shit parenting"

You wanna know what really makes this hilarious? Bill's the one who convinced Ford he should freeze the book and taught him how to do it.

[crispycreambacon]

S-oar Wounds

— ☆ —

Warning: The fic above contains brief depictions of violence, gore and death. Moreover, the themes of this fic heavily involve trauma, specifically PTSD. If any of the following distresses you, please read with caution or refrain from clicking the fic.

The Professor finally reunites the Sword and the Oar after years of being apart. But can they even be together again after everything that happened to them?

— ☆ —

Fun fact! The Oar's piece is based on "Gifu Road Station: Godo, Nagara River Cormorant Fishing Boat" by Keisai Eisen and Utagawa Hiroshige. Another fun fact! The Oar's palette lowkey looks like the gay mlm flag while the Sword's palette looks like the lesbian flag. How fun! How gay even :3

Anyways, Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!! I hope y'all are doing swell whether you're spending today with your partner, your friends, your family, or you're simply vibing. As for me, I cooked up another fic featuring your favourite gay couple! Don't let the oar pun in the title fool ya, this is uhm. I think you can tell from the warning :D

The fic has it all! We got:

An exploration of the Sword and the Oar, particularly how they grapple with their trauma and how it affects their relationship with each other

Honest depictions of, well, life which can get ugly, and sometimes, they don't know how to handle it, but it's okay! It's part of the process

A really cute friendship between the Professor and the Oars! (Albeit the Professor and the Sword uh. Not exactly wholesome especially at the start-)

Hand-holding! And hugs. And general physical affection to even out the amount of drama radiating from this fic

A happy ending! Because they deserve it god DAMN IT

If all of that sounds like up your alley, you can click here to read the fic, click the title or search "S-oar Wounds" by crispycreambacon on AO3. This was a very interesting and cathartic piece to write, and I hope you get even a fraction of that catharsis while reading it too.

Thank you for showing interest in the fic, and even if you don't end up reading it, I hope you enjoy the art. Have a lovely day, everyone!

[destination-hotel-krat]

ever since I watched arcane s2 the idea of an ep7 scenario happening but with Romeo and Carlo has been living in my head rent free.

like, imagine Romeo, as King of Puppets. Carlo died long ago and he's stuck as the last bastion against Geppetto's plan as the only person that knows the truth, and Geppetto's Puppet is quickly mowing through his efforts to stop it all.

and then, by whatever ergo related plot reasons, he travels to a parallel universe in the same way Ekko does. and he wakes up and sees himself in his human body again, and he's no King of Puppets and he's just the normal guy he always was. moreover, he's out of the Rose Estate by now and lives in the Krat that continued to thrive as a city of technological wonder without the puppet frenzy and he has everything he needs.

and then the door opens and Carlo walks in, alive and happy and also thriving, and he hugs him because he hasn't seen him in so long and also HE'S ALIVE! and they're both well known Stalkers that don't even need to be part of either Stalker organizations, on their way to become the best in the world as they promised each other.

there's an event happening soon, the Grand Exhibition or maybe something smaller, and him and Carlo can just assist and enjoy because Carlo is Geppetto's son. they still don't get fully along but Carlo has free access to private technological events and can bring Romeo along if the events in question are fun or useful enough.

in the Grand Exhibition a new puppet model is presented, and it's a beautiful puppet with a conscience and feelings and Geppetto names him Pinocchio because he knows his son likes that fairytale. Carlo considers that it's too little too late but he has matured past actively hating his father.

and Carlo and Romeo dance together and kiss and maybe even sleep together i mean the guy probably missed his normal body and he's gonna wanna use it LMAO and Romeo can be with Carlo again except now he's having the life he always dreamed of having with him.

but just like Ekko in ep7, Romeo knows this isn't his place and eventually he must leave, and leave behind this perfect life because he has a duty in his own universe.

I'm rambling and the idea is quite disjointed, and I'm leaving a lot of things unsaid but y'all get the gist. so yeah. that's what I keep thinking about.

[silverxcristal]

We finished "Can't go Home Again" and started "Almost feels like Home"

I'll make a proper post explaining what im even talking about and sharing art I have done about it. Before hand I warn you that the quality of said art is similar to this and im sorry

[frogspond200]

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽- 𝚁𝙴-𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔-

• 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚠𝚕 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

• 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑/𝙵𝚗𝚊𝚏

● 𝙾𝙺 ��.𝙾.! 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙱𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚜! ✌︎

● 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝙵𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎

● 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

● 𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚢 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑

● 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎/𝙵𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚔𝚎

● 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚘

● 𝙷𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜

☝︎𝑪𝒐𝒅/𝑴𝑾2

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝒅𝒐:

𝚁@𝚙3

𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐-𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 (𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚗)

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜-𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐:

𝙰𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝙰𝚞 𝙵𝚒𝚌 (𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎)

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜

[aphel1on]

Shoutout to whatever ao3 tag wrangler made Chouji & Scaramouche (Genshin Impact) an official tag based on the one (1) fic* I wrote about them. NO shoutout to whoever is responsible for keeping "Raiden Ei | Baal" the official tag even now MULTIPLE years after we know her Goetic name is Beelzebul

*actually 2 now, i found this out while tagging the sequel

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

A Marionette inspired by Chapter 36 of my Accursed Heritage fic

🪡Reblogs highly appreciated!!🪡

[thesugarhole]

yesterday i got to share one of my top fanfictions of all time with my friends and even though its likely they wont read it im happy. to have introduced them to real literature.

known as "sasori and deidara had an escape-death-and-akatsuki contingency plan and fuck off to continue their art inspired crimes. together <3"

[screamsofanoutlawbrain]

So I've described the banishing of Mr. Hand from ppt2 as goldhand divorce, and Mr. Hand's attmpt at revenge as being the fight for child custody.

My sweet pal has not watched ppt2 for all I know, I've just been sending them memes and incorrect posts of the characters and other object shows.

[dayfalwastaken]

Reactions and discussions.

Mari stopped in her metaphorical tracks. How was she supposed to respond to that? Had she been human, she would’ve gulped in worry before rushing over to scoop the boy in her arms. As she was, she produced a soft chime and gripped the edges of her box, suddenly very mad over her confinement in it. She’d sensed that something was wrong the moment Matthew had begun reading that piece of paper. And now, out of nowhere the mask she’d gifted to him was spent and he looked like he was about to burst into tears. With a sigh and flickering eyes, she motioned for him to put the mask back on.

“What? No one is paying attention to us.” He said, likely referring to the glowing orbs of light in the mask’s sockets.

Mari shook its head, repeating the gesture but with a little more authority this time.

“…Fine.” Shrinking in on himself, Matthew did as told.

The Puppet tensed at his reaction before doing its equivalent of taking in a deep breath. The conversation they were about to have wasn’t one that should’ve been spoken out loud for all to hear.

“This is more appropriate if we want to speak.” It said through the mask. Matthew froze, doing a double take to make sure he’d heard it correctly.

“Wait- are you… talking in my mind? Like, telepathically?”

“Er, yes, that was one of the mask’s functions that I did not tell you about. I didn’t want to spoil what it could do from the get-go. I thought you might want to discovered them on your own since you like superpowers so much, but, well...” Mari shrugged. It only wished her child could’ve done so under better circumstances. “F-For the record I cannot read your thoughts, just communicate with you! I would never want to invade your privacy like that.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. T-That’s good.”

…Except that it had already done so by stalking following him to the Afton house. Oof.

“Right... Come on, sit down.” Mari tapped the right side of the box, picking up a Fredbear plush from the pile of presents behind it. “Take this, pretend you’re playing.”

“…Hearing you in my mind. It’s like I’m reading my own thoughts, expect they’re not really mine. This is so weird…” He mused as he sat down, carefully inspecting the plushie. Before the Puppet could say anything Matthew bowed his head in resignation. “So, I guess you’d like an explanation after that bombshell, huh?”

Mari nodded, placing a reassuring hand on his back.

“Indeed, but I am in no hurry.” The boy merely hummed in turn.

“No time like the present. Well, you saw most of it. Cassidy pulled me aside so we could talk. She told me about a weird dream that she had last night and how she’d woken up with this page in her hands.” He handed the paper over and reached underneath the mask to rub his eyes. “We tried to decode it or whatever, or, I did, and then…” His inner voice cracked, prompting him to fiddle with the Fredbear plush.

Mari gave the page a once-over, only to shudder slightly at the fact that she recognized the style of the text.

“Matthew, dear, this… This is in your handwriting.”

“Yup. Freaked me out too when it processed. But I know I didn’t write that.”

“…And you said the girl had this in her hands when she woke up?” She asked as she descended halfway into the box, wanting to conceal the page from any noisy onlookers.

“Mhm, only I wasn’t the one to place it there, as you can imagine.”

Mari read the first two lines and raised a brow in intrigue.

“What’s that word mean anyway? The phobia thing?”

“Eisoptrophobia, otherwise known as catoptrophobia or spectrophobia, is the fear of mirrors and other reflective surfaces, due to what those objects may reflect and distort. The question here implies that you are not afraid of mirrors. Is it correct?”

“It is. I’ve never been scared of `em, which makes the whole thing read like a threat to me.”

“Or perhaps a promise would be more accurate.” The Puppet suggested. “It can be hard to tell the tone in writing, but given how hostile this clearly is, I agree. I cannot think of any other terms that would fit this better.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly eager to find out what being afraid of mirrors means.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. At the very least, just know that I will be there no matter what comes our way.” Mari said, sounding a tad less hopeful than it had intended.

“I know, Stripes. I know…”

She moved on the next paragraph.

It’s a vicious cycle, you know. But then, most things in life are. The pendulum swings one way, then it swings the other. Now we return to darkness. Something terrible is coming.

Where did she know this from? It looked like a passage one might find in a poem, but a quick search through her memory disproved her having ever seen this specific piece. So if Mari hadn’t read it before, why did it seem so familiar, like she was supposed to have heard it somewhere?

“Just reaffirming what we already knew,” because of course it would “is what I gather from this second one.” Matthew chose to stay silent.

She turned the page, happening upon a spiral of sentences that also appeared to form a quote. A short analysis later and she was met with a ping from her memory banks, the excerpt’s origin having been found. It was a shortened dialogue section from the story “Silent Snow, Secret Snow” by Conrad Aiken. A tale about a young boy growing to like the daydreaming reality of snow better than the real world, distancing himself from his parents as his mind withered away from illness. One of the many stories her maker had scanned to train her past self’s AI.

The quote’s origin was further proof the paper had been for her dear child, and not the girl. So why this quote in particular, why from that story and why were some of its sentences removed? It was deliberate enough, evidently, and with a deeper purpose this time. Not just a random attack born out of rage like those of the past. Neither was it a simple intimidation tactic, a direct “I will kill you”. There was a message here, but what? What was the Shadow monster’s reason for breaking character with this page? What context was the Puppet missing here?

Why, why, why… So many questions, Mari pondered warily.

“Does the last part- the spiral mean anything to you?” He asked the boy. Matthew took a moment to reply.

“Uh, no. I figured it was like a snippet from somewhere but I didn’t recognize it. Just kinda took it for what it was. If there’s a message in there I can’t see it. All I’m reading from that is an ominous, cryptic threat, but that’s about it. Why, you figured something out?”

That was only a half truth, but Mari didn’t comment on it. Now was not the time to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Partly. That portion was ripped straight out of a story, yes, but... Why it was chosen and what you’ll be told, if we were to take the text literally, I do not know. I’m sorry.”

Matthew shifted on the star-spangled carpet, facing up at the Marionette with a lamenting shake of his head.

“I know that look. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not omniscient.”

The Puppet did not answer him, choosing to mind the little girl that had come up to the box asking for a present. A sweet thing no more than five or six years old, with red curly hair, blue eyes and wearing a flowery dress. Impressed that she had mustered the courage to come up to Mari on her own, the Puppet gracefully handed her a gift from its pile, patting her head as she left.

The sounds of delight from the girl as she opened her present earned a tinkle out of Mari, her music box reverberating with innocent joy.

The Puppet crossed her arms and dropped the paper on the box’s floor. She leaned on the edge, mindful to keep the wide porcelain smile from cracking.

“I cannot imagine you being so shaken up from something like this,” it began earnestly. “because you’re stronger than that, so I must ask: What was it really that got you like this?” It poured as much warmth into the inquiry as possible, not wanting the boy to feel like he was being judged for his moment of weakness. It wouldn’t dare commit such a sin. To reduce his worth based on… outside factors and unpredictable outcomes- no. No way. He meant to much for Mari to ever think less of him.

“Would you believe me if I told you?”

“Dear, I am a jester robot a few degrees into self-awareness. Ghosts are a reality and so are shadowy monsters that cause bad dreams. A couple months after my birth I was told of the afterlife’s existence. Heaven, Hell and all that nonsense. This is an awfully ridiculous world we live in, Matthew. I’ll believe anything you tell me.” The Puppet shot him a playful wink, easing the air between them.

In spite of himself the boy giggled, rubbing the back of his head.

“Right, stupid question. Well…”

[crispycreambacon]

What if I dropped a fic later tonight on 8 PM (or tomorrow morning for you fellas at the other side) would that be hilarious or what

[manipulative-puppeteer]

WHUMPTOBER 2023 no.2

??? & ???

Tags: imprisonment, abandoned, isolation, loss of consciousness

MASTERLIST

CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

Year 115X

When they woke up they couldn’t move. His consciousness came back to them quickly. 

They noticed their surrounding area. It was dark, but there was a violet light coming out of little crystals. Those crystals were placed on rough, stone walls. Walls of a cave.

It wasn't unusual that they were in a cavern since they lived in one.

But what was unusual was that they couldn't move. Their body was bound by ropes. Their hands held tightly above his head, the other end of it being tied to the ceiling. Their ankles and thighs were bound together so they were forced into a kneeling position. 

They couldn't move an inch. 

'Was this some sort of a test?' They thought.

Last thing they remembered was Teacher telling them to rest after a day of practicing elemental magic. When they went to sleep, everything was normal, well till now.

'Well, either way, if it's a test or not' they decided 'I should free myself.'

They gathered the mana to move the ground around them, they want to form sharp Spikes that can cut the ropes.

They gather the mana.

They gather the mana- 

It's not working.

They try again, and again, and again, everytime the mana fled from his body, evaporating around the crystals.

The first sight of panic settles. 

They cannot use magic and they are bound tightly. They try to get out of the ropes, they struggle.

Nevertheless the binds are masterfully tied and when they trash their restraints tighten even more.

With time, as the mana they gather disappears and their body weakens, they fall down without any strength left.

Breathing heavily they finally understand.

'I can't break free.'

With a shaky break they spoke: "Teacher?"

They were met with silence.

"Teacher?" They called out again, even louder. "If it's a test I'm sorry, I failed."

Their voice meekly echoed around them.

"Please let me out!"

Nobody answered.

They were here alone.

Minutes had passed. 

They struggled more.

But it still had no effect. There was no way out of the bonds and his screaming reached no one. 

Hours had passed.

Their hands and legs began to hurt.

They were wondering why they were in such a situation. Did somebody kidnap them? But if that was the case why would they leave them here, in this cave?

Days had passed.

They were at their limit.

There really was no one coming, they were left here, alone, to rot.

To die of starvation.

Their vision was blurry, it was hard to focus. 

The cave was spinning around them. 

Violet crystals were leaving a shining smudge as they moved their head.

They couldn't go on much longer, they were in a constant state of numbness.

Their consciousness was fading.

They heard a loud bang.

Followed by quieter regular noises.

It was so unnatural for them after the silence.

They almost didn't realize it at first.

That there were more noises around them.

There was someone.

A warm yellow color. 

They first heard the crackle of the fire. 

Then they felt their sore body.

They groaned.

"Oh, you're awake." 

The sound of the voice moved closer. 

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

The voice seemed pleasant, nice and was enjoyable to listen to.

They wanted to listen to it more.

"Ah, are you still not fully conscious?" They heard the voice again, it seemed like the Light Dragon heard their wish. "That's understandable, you were in that cavern with mana disrupting crystals for quite some time."

Although they wanted nothing more than to stay like they were and fall unconscious again, they started to get meaning behind the uttered words.

"Imagine my surprise when I found you along with this cavern. I only wanted to harvest the crystals but there you were, a dragonkin imprisoned right outside of Jieshing."

They opened their eyes, next to them was a person. A human with darker skin, blonde long hair and violet eyes. The eyes weren't focused on them, they looked at something in the distance.

"Well, you have a tainted anchor after all. They wouldn’t want to keep an opal around."

It all came back to them.

"W-what?" They uttered with difficulty.

"Oh, you really are awake." The violet eyes were now looking at them. "Wait, I'm going to give you something to drink."

The stranger got up.

"Also try not to move too much, we are still near the mana disrupting crystals, you shouldn't waste any more of your magic."

They still tried to change their position, they needed to- they wanted-

"W-what were you talking- earlier-"

The human came back with a costrel that they placed near their lips. Cold water dripped down their sore throat and it felt amazing.

"What did you say about o-opals?" As soon as the human backed away, they asked again.

"Oh dear you didn't know? Did the other dragonkin keep you in the dark?" The dread set further into their stomach. "Ah, how should I explain this...?"

The human thought for a while.

"I am sorry that you have to hear this but dragonkin with an opal anchor are considered faulty. It's because the opal servers the connection to the Light Dragon."

Violet eyes looked so guilty.

"As you might have noticed you cannot progress into Light Core."

They couldn't take another breath.

Was Teacher the one to put them in that cavern? 

Were they really left there to rot? To die and be forgotten?

"I'm so sorry, your kind probably betrayed you. They didn't care about you."

They felt numb.

"But don't worry, I'll take care of you."

The stranger whispered.

But they weren't meant to hear it.

[lolliepops-rox]

“You asked me to marry you then fucked off to med school!” Floyd doesn’t want to yell this in a public place, so it’s nothing more than a whispered growl.

being gay in the 70s was hard