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shini--chan · 6 months

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Hey, could I request yandere Allies punishing dear reader, only to realize afterwards that the Allies themselves misplased the knife ect? And thank you for the amazing writing you do!

The pleasure is mine, dear. And please people, don’t read this during, or after eating - this especially refers to the France part of this post. Rated mature for reasons.

Trigger warnings: Attempted murder, temporary death, body horror, gore, domestic violence, animal death

Yandere Allies - Oversight

America

Now that had been unexpected, it occured to Alfred while he was in limbo. Limbo generally was a weird place, and it was best to focus on the internal going ons, than the external happenings. The alien geometries and starburst fractals and the unliving creatures haunting the semi-shadows would only make the aroma of his own death linger longer in his mouth should he inspect them. No need to pass over to the other side yet, either - he wasn't at the end of his life either.

You were going to be in so much trouble when he got back. All that blood on his desk, it really wouldn't do. Perhaps he should force you to clean it up. Couldn't you have opted for a less bloody option, than slitting his throat? For all that you claimed to be kinder and fairer than him, with your modus operandi you had demonstrated that you were anything but that. And you called him a hypocrite.

All of this because of your damn attitude problems and a misplaced knife. Hormone imbalance, mayhaps? He should have you take a blood test, just to make sure that a thyroid dysfunction wasn't on the table.

Slowly the connection to his physical body started to reestablish itself and he felt the chill of death creep in his bones. Thankfully, due to his superpower status, his time in the limbo was relatively short and his body was therefore not too cold when he returned to it. Though, the dead time had been increasing as of late, and that was worrying all on its own. Something he would have to look at another time, though.

Air entered his lungs and his heart gradually started pumping again. His throat felt like shit, but thankfully was closed. By the feel of it, you had covered it after you had murdered him. Speaking of you, he felt your hands rummaging in his jacket pockets. Rude.

With some effort, he cracked his eyes open and observed you through his half-closed eyelids. He was on the floor, spread-eagle. Even through the postmortem blurr, he could recognise that you were pale beyond belief and you were shaking. The hands searching his person were frantic and your breathing was erratic. As his sense of smell kicked in, he caught the sharp sting of bile floating from his waste paper basket.

Double Rude. If you had to kill someone, best not be a pussy about it and not vomit after doing the deed. Blazes, what was wrong with you that you couldn't even murder somebody probably? Maybe he'd have you kill one of those rats that once had vyed for your attention. Good riddance and a lesson all in one, that would be fantastic.

Now, just to get your attention.

A hand wrapped around one of your ankles, and with his sight becoming clearer, he could see how your eyes went wide. Hands froze, and you turned your head to look down in that slow, comical fashion that was so typical of horror movie protagonists. When you screamed, he yanked your leg out from underneath you, causing the scream to morph into a yelp.

Now this was funny

Given how distracted Alfred can get, he'll probably overlook where he placed the knife and will only realise what happened when it is too late. The best course of action would be to book it. If you want further time then you'd have to put Alfred even further out of commision, so that more time is spent healing.

When he does get you again, he'll be borderline manic and you can be assured that whatever punishment shall commence will be worse than the one that allowed you to obtain the knife in the first place.

Canada

"I do hope you just have the knife 'cause you wanna cook something", he remarked. Matthew didn't even look up from where he was plucking his eyebrows, just kept staring intently in the small beautician mirror he had before him. There were more important things than you waving a knife around as if you knew how to use it. You couldn't even chop vegetables properly.

"And what if I don't?", you asked snidely. Slippers scraped against the floorboards as you approached him. Turning the mirror just so, he saw you over his shoulder, with a knife held high. Was your pallor and trembling due to the blood loss, fear, or both?

"You wouldn't dare to kill me. We both know that."

"How can you be so sure? After everything you've done to me, why shouldn't I?", you asked in return. Your voice wasn't even - it cracked and faltered at the end of some words and he had to strain his hearing to make out the others.

The personification turned around slowly, intent on being dramatic. He jad seen Alfred and his Lord Father do so often enough for him to be able to imitate them perfectly.

There you were standing, holding the never some knife he had used to cut paper fine cuts in your back, a tally of all the spanks he had inflicted on you. You had been so upset, the humiliation and pain forcing tears from your eyes. Not surprising that you were having a tantrum, therefore.

Matthew was taller than you and therefore it was so easy to look down on you.

"You've never hurt somebody. You wouldn't even dare cut a bunny's throat and then skin it, even if your life depends on it. Everytime somebody talks about organs and blood for more than five minutes, you become green. Do you really think it is believable when you say you want to injure me? Or even go further than that and kill me?

So stop lying to yourself. You don't have the guts to kill me, 'cause that would mean staining your ledger with red", he explained, and with each other word, took a step closer to you. Eventually, you had to tilt your head back to look him in the eye.

Trembling like a frightened rabbit, you clutched the blade even tighter to make sure it didn't fall out of your hand. No further words were said, but there was no need, for when he met no resistance when he pried the implement out of your grasp, he knew his words had hit home.

It would come as no surprise to Canada should you approach him with a knife and malicious intent. Judging from your past reactions to punishments, it would be a given that you would act out more than usual, should you get your hands on a weapon

He would be willing to let it slide, as a way of showing just how inconsequential you arming yourself is to him. It is not like you can gain the upper hand over him or something of the sort, so why should he punish you for that? Besides, he is more angry with himself for making such a mistake. He is supposed to set a standard, to have a certain image in your mind. How can he have that if he is constantly slipping up?

China

The steel felt cold against your skin. This whole thing was rather silly, even petty. It wasn't like that you didn't have unrestricted access to a whole assortment of knives. Heavens, it would take little convincing for Yao to let you take up fencing, and with historical swords for that. With a little work, you could then turn a blunted long sword into a sharp blade. This was more about the principal than the outcome.

Yao was enjoying a book on the couch, as was typical for a workday evening. There was even a cup of tea … no, herbal infusion on the table beside him and every now and then he would reach over and take a few sips.

You just had to get your timing correct.

After a few minutes of waiting, he finally reached over again and that was the moment you chose to strike. Quickly, you lunged in order to cross the space in the blink of an eye and rammed the knife downward.

The ugly screech of metal being embedded in wood filled the room, and the steel glinted crimson with droplets of blood. Yao hadn't even let go of the tea cup, now lifted slightly off the table surface. What he had done was spill some tea.

There wasn't even a change in expression when he fixed his eyes on you. The cup exchanged hands and your partner lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the blood away that was seeping out of the shallow cut in his hand.

"That was planned?", he finally inquired, his hand falling down to the table. He pushed himself upright and set the cup back down.

It was kind of strange, now. You were kneeling at his feet and he was sitting above you, like you were some child begging for leniency from the patriarch of the family.

"Yes."

"Don't tell me you are still upset about me eating the last of your chocolates."

"That is what you think this is about. No, it is about the dress."

"Really? That is even worse than the chocolate argument."

"Excuse you, but not everybody takes it well when you cut a dress from their body and burn it in the fireplace. It was new!"

Thin eyebrows shot up and he gave you a nasty sneer as he recalled the incident that had occured last weekend. Oh, he had made it so apparent that he hated seeing that piece on you.

"Why would you insist on clothing your body with that filth gifted to you by that mutt? He wasn't doing it to be a friend, he was doing it because he wanted you in his bed."

Scoffing, you rose to your feet and brushed the dirt of the trousers you were wearing.

"Don't you think I noticed? He was being rather obvious about it. And before you accuse me of wanting to sleep with him - no, just no. But I wasn't going to say no to that expensive dress.

Since China wouldn't use the knife itself to directly harm you, he'll quickly brush this all off as an overreaction. Due to such an incident occurring rather early in the relationship, it would be easy to make you see your own actions as being unreasonable. Will do his best to make you feel guilty about the whole thing.

Would treat you like a brat afterwards. You better think of something good to make up to him. This treatment would go on for a while until you "prove" to him that you are mature. Yao will use this incident to his advantage in the future - such as making you turn two blind eyes to his red flags so that you can't be accused of overreacting.

England

Arthur had his features drawn together in a pinched expression. Muscles in his cheeks jumped as he visibly kept his anger in check. Stretch a hand out to you.

"Now, now darling. Be good and give me the knife", he said, with that soft, light tone that was more fitting when talking to a child than with you. It made your skin crawl. It made you grip the knife in your hand ever tighter.

"No."

"Don't draw this out longer than it has to be. Give me the knife, and then you can go curl up on the couch 'till I'm finished tending to the fire.”

He was trying so hard to reason with you, to persuade you into complying with his will. But you know, that if you do, he’ll be no more lenient with you, than if you hadn’t. That is the part of the inherent cruelty of Arthur Kirkland. He is a callous and selfish man, who parades his supposed virtues not out of the pureness of his heart, but because they are fashionable. With you, there are enough times when he forgoes keeping up appearances, because it is not like you can leave him.

And so the sheathed blades are unsheathed, and if you step out of line, a world of pain awaits you, both in the metaphorical and the literal sense. Arthur has an ideal that he wants you to live up to, and he doesn’t take it well when you break the mould.

He took a step forward, and you one back. This couldn’t go on. Constantly he goaded you on being weak-willed and therefore needing him to make major decisions in your life - this was the opportunity to make him eat his words.

All factors weren’t considered when you charged forwards, blade thrusted forward and aimed at the heart. The next few seconds passed in a blur, but afterwards, looking back on it, you knew what happened:

The fire poker was pointed downwards and used to push the kitchen knife to the side. With the momentum you had put in the move, you weren’t able to take a step back and redeploy. His right arm wound itself around your outstretched one, fastening you to his side. The poker moved swiftly, swinging over the outer side of your elbow and the tip found its home at your jugular.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted to be subdued by me. You know how aroused I get when I get to tame you. So tell me, did you want this all along?”, he asked coyly.

A wild spark danced in his eyes, not akin to one that you had ever seen before. A hunter that only went after the biggest, most dangerous quarry and delighted in the fight itself. The scent of blood and sweat, the screams of the dying - you had feared Arthur before, but this was a different story. There had been to much ease with how simply he turned the tables. Perhaps fears of him being a berserker at heart were well founded.

You tried to wind out of the lock, and subsequently bent your arm. Thankfully, the poker was no longer a few milimetres from penetrating your neck, but now it was pressing you down by the elbow. The strength behind the move forced you to give in and follow the course that Arthur was directing you to. Being led around like that, you were forced to make an arc around him. The fire poker pressed your elbow towards him, giving you no choice but to flop down on your back.

Hand and metal implement vanished and you breathed deeply. Arthur was still standing in front of the fireplace, the fire shining behind him. That, and with him standing over you, made him look like some angel about to punish you for your sins.

“If you have to attack, then never do so half heartedly or when full of rage. I can tell you this, because either way, you never stand a chance of winning against me.”

Arthur would be very irritated in this whole matter. But if you are so insistent, then he’ll gladly play teacher to his new, so willing pupil and give you a lesson that you wouldn’t forget so fast. With all the years of combat experience and practice in swordsmanship under his belt, his victory would be a given. He would even go so far as to say he would be able to defeat you with a cooking spoon.

Would make a whole game out of it. It has been so long since he has had a decent sparring partner that he might as well train you up to par. That way, he could easily demonstrate his superiority on a regular basis, he would have the perfect conditions to bully you, and you would get to release all those pesky emotions of yours that otherwise make you so disagreeable. Win-win, right?

France

You glowered at France. The bastard was sitting across from you, arms crossed in front of him and with a disgustingly smug grin on his obnoxious face. It was sickening really, the whole thing was sickening, and he was acting as if justice had been served.

So far, you had managed to avoid eating the meat part of the dish, and had wasted a lot of time pushing around the chips and carrots before consuming them. The piece of meat was covered with cheese, something that you had decided on so that you wouldn't have to see it, that you wouldn't have to smell it.

Cooking your beloved pet had been bad enough as it was. The scent of blood still lingered in your nose, and even now that last panicked scream echoed in your ears.

Now it would be time to start eating it; there was nothing else left on your plate.

You wanted to puke.

Grabbing sideways, you managed to get the knife in your grasp. You didn't even look as to where the offending thing went exactly. Eyes were just focused on his face, and the time went in that general direction. He even had to duck.

The next moments didn't register by you, as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed loudly. All of this just because of one man's jealousy. With a sweeping motion, you sent the plate crashing to the floor, not caring that the results of you resisting your punishment.

You just wanted this whole nightmare to be over.

France wouldn't really be the sort to resort to physical violence, except if very specific circumstances apply, like war, colonialism or dealing with treason to the nation. Since that can't really be expected, the knife would be an instrument in your psycological torture. In the case described above, that would take the form of forcing you to kill, process and eat a pet that he is jealous of.

In his eyes, you should be his lover and not share your love with somebody or something that isn't him or his. If you would not let him bask in your love and attention, then drastic measures shall be needed. And what is more valuable than a life?

Russia

With a nauseating squelch, the knife buried itself in the meat of his shoulder. Blood sprayed upwards and some of it immediately seeped out of the wound. A loud grunt broke the silence as your victim was torn from his sleep through the violence.

You wanted to wrench the blade out while you still had the chance, but it was harder to pull out than you thought. Perhaps the force behind the blow had been enough to lodge the knife in the bone. It apparently wasn't sharp enough to effortlessly slide out of it.

On top of that, Ivan scooted out of the bed before you could dislodge the blade, fast despite the injury and the sleep weariness. Your captor stood a good few metres away, the twilight of the room making him look like some giant beast. The heavy panting and the knife handle sticking out of his shoulder only added to that image.

"Are you insane?", he hissed.

One large hand reached up and pulled. Now the blade came out in a fluid motion, and drops of blood sprayed forward. Due to the very loose nightshirt that he was wearing, you hadn't managed to emesh the fabric with the wound - the metal had only penetrated human tissue.

Ivan hadn't even let out a single grunt of pain. Even now, when blood was running down his chest, then disappearing down the hemline of the shirt, staining it red, he seemed unfazed.

"You're one to talk", you snapped back. "Did it never occur to you that I might get fed up with the way you treat me and decide to retaliate?"

He scoffed and stepped closer to you. The knife was tossed to the side, and he glowered.

"And did it ever occur to you that I don't punish you because I find it fun, but because you need to learn that your actions have consequences? You are not some child, so you should know better than to think I'll simply let you do as you please. Though, from the stunt you've pulled now, I'm actually inclined to reassess my thoughts about your maturity", he stated.

With each word, he took a step closer until his toes were touching yours. A strange crawling motion could be seen in the area of the wound, like it didn't want to accept the parting.

"Oh, and weren't you of that same opinion when you put me over your knee and gave me a hiding with the flat side of that blade?", you challenged him. Oh the terror had quickly morphed into humiliation once you had realised what was going on.

"Perhaps you should stop behaving like a sugar-addled brat then."

The skin and meat knitted itself together, a grotesk acceleration and bastardisation of the natural heal process. Ivan signed in relief and took his attention off of you and inspected the scarless skin, rolling his shoulder and flexing his muscles.

Your heart dropped and your thoughts slowed to a standstill in shock. You had severely underestimated him.

"And also not turn to being a traitor. You know very well what I do with those."

Ivan would take your actions against him as treason and if there is something that he can't tolerate, it is a traitor. Gone are all the privileges and outings and affection. If you aren't quick to make up to him and express your remorse and see the error of your ways, you're going to have a long road ahead of you. You'll have to work hard to get back into his good graces; even just getting him to treat you with human decency would take a while.

In his eyes, if you choose such disproportionate retaliation in response to his actions, then you either have an attitude problem or something went wrong in your upbringing. He'll be happy to correct that. It'll range from what you are allowed to eat, to the media you consume, to your bedtime. Imagine a strict headmistress or matron.

A/N: The move I described is actually a real technique used with one handed sword. It was a cool day learning that one.

France was hard to write, so I decided to keep it short.

#yandere hetalia #yandere america #yandere x reader #yandere france #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere china #yandere canada #yandere allies #x reader

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saberwitch · 2 months

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Imagine you're a Mesmer in Tyria, just doing your thing, helping your friends save the world over and over again. You get into some pretty fucked up situations, you brush up against the gods and the dragons and their magic-- the lifeblood of the world-- ley energy and Mist portals and time warps and fractals and all kinds of weird stuff.

It's just second nature to you. You win most of the time. You lose sometimes. Occasionally you're left wondering what the fuck just happened. It's during one of these latter events that you see it: one of your clones just...doesn't shatter. You stare at it, it stares at you, a look of bewilderment on its face that you can feel on your own.

And then it disappears. It takes you a moment to realize it didn't finally shatter; it ran off. Before you can gather your wits, it's gone, and you're off with your friends to save the day again.

You forget about the errant clone for a while. After all, you've got another elder dragon to kill and your girlfriend lost her sister and she needs you even though she says she doesn't. There's more enemies to fight and more battles to win and more funerals to attend.

Every so often, though, you hear weird things. Someone saw you in the Reach and said hello but you didn't respond. That's not like you, and besides, you were in Maguuma at the time. These moments keep popping up, like odd little echoes of your life.

You forget about it again for a while. You have new lands to explore, new friends, new trials. But then you see it: across a sandswept dune, a familiar mirage: the clone that didn't shatter. It looks...different. Not exactly like you any more.

"Hey, wait--!" you call out to it, but it disappears-- she disappears-- in an unmistakable glittering flash of Mesmer magic.

You start to wonder if you're losing your mind.

You talk to your girlfriend about it. She laughs and says something about a threesome. You laugh along with her and make a joke, but in the back of your mind, a shadow of doubt lurks.

What if this has happened before? What if it happens a lot? You think you have a pretty good understanding of your magic and how it works...but you thought you understood a lot of stuff before embarking on this journey, and you've had your entire universe upended more than once.

You feel like you should talk to someone about it. The Council. The Queen. Her bodyguard. Powerful Mesmers, all. Surely they would know something about it. Surely they could help solve this problem.

You go cold.

What if their solution was to terminate your wayward echo?

You finally understand what you saw in the desert, why she didn't look quite like you any more. Because she wasn't you, any more. She was her, a phantom wearing your face but living her own life.

And oh, you know exactly what the Countess, at least, would tell you to do. Hunt down your double and destroy it. She would say "it", and not "her".

You've killed people before. You wish you could say your hands haven't been stained, but saving the world sometimes calls for the most extreme of measures. And this isn't just some random foe, it's you. And what if killing your echo means killing a part of yourself, too?

Can you afford to lose more than you already have?

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 mesmer #kasmeer meade #kasmeer clone #just kasmeer

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infiniteeight8 · 10 months

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Hello. in the comics the doctor had a ghostly talking dog. unfortunately, I don't remember his name. can you ironstrange with it

I believe the dog’s name is Bats, but I know this only via Tumblr osmosis. Of the comics, I have read only The Oath (it was excellent) and don’t know Bats at all. I looked up a few panels, but I’m afraid this is going to be a little generic.

Tony doesn’t think anyone would be surprised to hear that his first impression of Doctor Stephen Strange is that he’s another one of those heroes who are utterly convinced they know best about everything. Tony has had it up to here with heroes like that. He resolves that he’ll work with Strange only when absolutely necessary.

He’s confident of his decision right up until he drops by the Sanctum to deliver a magical artifact that the Avengers took off a bad guy and walks in on Strange arguing with a dog. A translucent blue-green basset hound, of all things.

“I do not need to go out,” Strange tells the dog, aggrieved. “I have work to do.”

“You haven’t been outside in three days,” the dog says. Of course there’s a talking ghost dog in the Sanctum. “That’s not any better for humans than it is for dogs.” The dog moves as if to nudge Strange’s legs. He’s a ghost, so of course he passes straight through, but Strange moves toward the doorway anyway, as if the nudge had landed. Tony has to swallow a smile.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal—” Strange begins, but then he catches sight of Tony and cuts off. “Mr. Stark,” he says. He straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin, but his ears are going pink. “What can I do for you?”

“Got an artifact for you,” Tony says, holding up the weird metal fractal thing he’d come with.

Strange reaches for it with visible relief. Whether it’s for the professional nature of the visit or the excuse not to go outside, Tony isn’t sure.

“You’re enabling him,” the dog tells Tony.

Tony grins. “How about I take him for a walk after?” he murmurs, too quiet for Strange to hear.

“Deal,” the dog chortles.

#IronStrange #Bats #triple drabble

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cuubism · 2 years

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I know it's been awhile, but I can't stop won't stop (not sure how to stop) thinking about the Complex Mathematics AU. Would you be willing to share any headcanons or random thoughts you have about that universe? Just curious! All your writing is fantastic <3

oh i was literally just working on this au right now! what timing

there are.. just so many partially finished oneshots for this universe in my drafts. there's integration, which takes place immediately after complex mathematics and before derivation and is about their first time (obvious title selection is obvious).

“Come here, you.” He tugs Dream forward by one of his long, long legs, knocking him onto his back. Then he leans down and kisses his ankle, then the inside of his knee. Dream tips his head back, stretching out.

His legs are as pale as the rest of him, paler even, and Hob mumbles into his skin, “You ever consider getting some sun?”

Dream huffs, swatting at his head. “Why? What sun are you referring to?”

And, well, yeah. They do live in London.

“It’s enrichment. Get you out of your cave for a while.” He climbs up Dream’s body to catch his mouth again, grinning against his lips. “We should go to the beach.”

“I think not.”

“I think so. I think I want to see you with salt in your hair.” He kisses under Dream’s ear. “Don’t you want to see what equations you can find in the waves?” “They are waves, the equations are known,” Dream says. But warmth finds his voice. He drags his hands up Hob’s back, his touch leaving a prickling trail. “You would look ravishing in the sun.”

there's imaginary numbers, which is about family.

“What were you doing up at six a.m.?” he asks when he’s awake next, several hours later, finally drinking the coffee Dream had brought.

“I was coming here,” Dream says. “I wished you not to wake alone.”

That puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

The thing about Dream, Hob’s learned, is that he’s cold and rude and utterly disinterested in social niceties on the outset, but once you’ve wormed your way into his heart you get this. This utterly soft, aggressively loving thing that woke up before the sun rose – or more likely, didn’t sleep at all – to spend the day with Hob because it’s been a year since his mom died and he’s sad about it.

Hob’s not even sure how he knew it was today. Hob’s told him about these things by now, but not all of the details.

“I don’t know why this one bothers me so much, more than any other,” Hob tells him now, leaning against his shoulder in bed. “Maybe because she was the last person I had left.”

“You have faced much tragedy in quick succession,” Dream says. “Your resilience astounds me.”

Hob doesn’t know what to say when Dream says things like that. He just tips his head against Dream’s shoulder.

Finally, he says, “Nothing else for it. What else am I going to do, give up? Only way out is through, and all that. Though I do get one day a year of just moping and being pitiful.” He laughs. “Which you’re currently witnessing.”

“If you are expecting me to retract my statement and call this average, you will be waiting a long time,” Dream says.

there's 1 + 1 = 3 which is about stress and stress-relieving measures (lol) and just.. being freaking weird together.

“You will pay for disturbing my work,” Dream warns, and kisses him before he can respond, teeth in Hob’s lower lip.

“Yeah?” Hob manages when they part for breath. “How?”

He’s expecting a lot of things, but not for Dream’s smile to turn playful and mischievous against his lips and for him to say, “Multiplication tables.”

Hob bursts out laughing, rocking Dream in his lap. Dream chuckles, too, cheek pressed to Hob’s.

“Want me to repent by writing ‘I will not disturb Dream’s work’ fifty times on the board while I’m at it?”

“That would be a poor use of time that could be better spent kissing you.”

fractal geometry, about dream and delirium's relationship.

“Delirium,” Dream says. His voice is low and he enunciates very precisely. “Do you see the colors on my shirt? Tell me something that matches each color.”

Through her sniffles, Del squints at his shirt. “That isn’t yours. You only wear black.”

“No, it’s Hob’s,” he admits.

Del gives him a toothy grin. “So sappy about your boyfriend,” she sings. “Can’t pretend to be a jerk anymore.”

“I will continue being a jerk to those who deserve it,” Dream sniffs. “Which is most people.”

“He called the head of the Maths department an imbecile the other day,” Hob says, and Del laughs, high and ringing.

“You are lucky your glare is very scary or I think you’d get punched a lot,” she tells Dream.

Dream says, “It would be worth it.”

as well as a handful of other snippets that haven't been sorted into any specific fic.

i'm still very obsessed with this as you can see, i just haven't finished any of it lately XD

#dream being a good older brother to delirium is something that can be so personal actually...#complex mathematics #my writing #dreamling #ask #anonymous #these weird grad students are important to me

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daily-linkclick · 1 year

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What is the theory abt lg being from an alternate timeline? I’ve been seeing a lot of ppl talk about it and idrk where it comes from, and what are your thoughts??(have a nice day!!)

this ask magically appeared in my inbox just today but apparently it was sent weeks ago, holy shit! thank you for waiting op LMFAO

anyways, it's a theory that's been around before season 2, iirc! mostly because we had little to nothing lore wise around their powers, and its just fun thinking about while we waited for anything canon. there were a few things that did hint at lu guang being from an alternative timeline, being that we don't know his age and backstory, and his weird hair color (not a lot of people sporting full white hair, or any unnatural hair color in link click, at least)

those aspects don't necessarily point to him being from an alternate timeline, but they also could be hints towards it! but there's new content that makes this theory potentially canon! it's from this music video played during Bilibili World. it features an alternate mv for vortex, which is interesting because we see lu guang falling first:

youtube

in it, there are several shots with cheng xiaoshi wearing completely different outfits, some injured and one seemingly dead? Plus a frame that shows four cxs's merging into one. maybe it's just ooo pretty visuals, but there's a looot of imagery that implies different timelines (shard fractals, reflections, mirror images, etc)

There's also this shot, with lu guang wearing an alternate fit we've never seen - and he's wearing more black in this one?? his s1 fit also featured a dark shirt and pants but his flannel color was more dominant. this leads me to believe that this is lu guang but less experienced (another timeline).

maybe all of this is just non-canon for marketing, they did market lu guang as dead for all of pre-s2 lol, but i like to believe this is them teasing lu guang's past! even if he's the main character, he's someone who's past we know the least of. i'd argue we find out more about side characters than we do about him actually - which makes me (and a lot of other people) think he's from an alternate timeline!

that's the gist; i'll put my own thoughts under a read more so this post won't be insanely long

my own thoughts on the theory is that i think lu guang is from multiple alternate timelines. the frame with multiple cheng xiaoshis, and the one where four merge into one makes me believe lu guang met cheng xiaoshi in his timeline, but cxs either died or had a miserable life. he kept going into different timelines in an attempt to save him / be in a timeline where cheng xiaoshi is actually safe and happy, and finally got to the timeline we see in the show.

though that part requires him having more than just the power to look into what happens in a photo. but there's been proof of lu guang hiding what he knows / has with cheng xiaoshi (re: him hiding the fact emma died, and him hiding the photo that liu tianchen gave him). he's also an incredibly private person. if he hides from his closest friend, who's to say he isn't hiding something from the audience either?

we also don't know how they got their powers. if lu guang originally had the power to dive back into pictures, then it would make sense on how he's able to go to different timelines. also, studio lan clearly emphasizes the fact that the pair are two halves of a whole, and the show is more interesting because of that dynamic.

as an extra: lu guang's doting nature makes a lot of sense too, he just doesn't want to see cheng xiaoshi miserable again! it's a pretty known fact that cheng xiaoshi didn't have any friends (besides qiao ling) before lu guang, and his life insantly got better when they finally were a trio (interesting that it was mainly because of a mysterious person that popped out of nowhere). here's a fun twitter thread by t3mp0s about the trio's dynamic

lastly, i just think it'd be fun if at one point cheng xiaoshi slowly discovers what lu guang did in his past for him. and how hypocritical lu guang would sound after saying "past or future, leave them be" if he never applied that to cheng xiaoshi! either way i still want to see a cxs saving lg arc man... they keep teasing it EVEN IN THE MV

that's it!! i know link click's best quality is the trio going through other people's stories, but i think they're preparing us for the biggest one: lu guang's.

#link click #link click spoilers #dlc asks #i draw cheng xiaoshi a lot but listen i love thinking about lu guang more . he is so mysterious #HOPE THIS WAS UNDERSTANDABLE LOL #i didnt say anything abt the two as a ship in this post bc im someone who could do with or without it #but my god studio lan is not helping their case when they say 'yeah theyre two halves of a whole character'#i love doomed gays #lmk if there was anything i cld say more honestly i wrote this in a haze #because its my favorite theory #lu guang

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preservationofnormalcy · 8 months

Note

Hello, uh, this is going to sound crazy, but I really hope you’ve had crazier because that means you can help me.

I woke up this morning and everything was…fractals. Everything is fractals. I didn’t notice it at first, but then I looked too closely at my bedside table and I couldn’t stop seeing it. I can see so so much of everything, all at once, no matter where I look. The world doesn’t feel solid. It just goes on and on and on. It doesn’t even go away when I close my eyes, it just gets darker.

I couldn’t even have breakfast this morning because the bowl I tried to pour my cereal into just…kept going. It didn’t feel any different when I touched it, but I just couldn’t look at it any longer.

This isn’t sustainable, I can’t keep going like this. I have a job I had to call in sick to because I almost got hit by a car crossing the street. I need someone to fix this.

Please help me.

Oooh, haven't had a noncompliant math question in a while! 'Cause that's what this is, math. Fractals are math. It's a little different this time, of course, fractals represent a pretty complex equation. You probably looked at some weird books, but I'm not gonna sit here and blame you.

The typical therapeutic method for treating noncompliant math episodes is doing as little math as possible to rest the psychic muscle, but this seems like an advanced case. We may need to try more advanced methods.

You'd need to talk to someone who knows more for a better "diagnosis" but more advanced treatments would involve a specialized chamber designed to isolate you from the rest of the reality in increments. Total isolation is not something we try lightly, people don't survive very long in there.

Come to us and we'll get you in touch with someone affiliated with Abnormal Therapies at AbSci U.

#noncompliant mathematics #office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #advice #AbSci University

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ventisettestars · 1 year

Text

DannyMay Day 4

Day 4: Fractals [ao3]

Summary: Danny’s Ectoplasm doesn’t look right under the microscope.

———————————————————————————————————–

Dinner was just about done when Maddie took a breath and said. “Danny. We need to discuss your connections to Phantom.”

It took everything in Danny to not drop his visibility and fade away. “Ah, the ghost boy you and dad are always hunting?”

“You don’t need to play dumb, we know.”

“What, what's to know? I’m not-”

“We know you’ve been helping him for a while now.”

“H-helping? What makes-”

“Your mother and I have known you’ve been giving him the thermoses and Fenton tools. Why do you think we’ve made them so easy for you to grab around the house?”

“I- Okay, yeah that makes sense. I thought you were just careless, but yeah, Why?”

“Well, we figured it would be better to leave out the safe things for you to find and tinker around with rather than the more experimental stuff..” Hearing that they had worse things, didn’t really comfort Danny, but his mom didn’t seem to notice his nerves as she continued. “Regardless, we have a favor to ask of Phantom, and we're hoping that you’d ask him something for us. Either by being the inbetween, or setting up a meeting place so we can talk.”

Danny’s guard rose. “Depends, but I might be able to.”

“We need a sample of his ectoplasm.” His dad was straight to the point.

“We’ve been examining a sample from a fight a few days ago, but the structure deteriorated too much to continue to be used.”

Danny looked like he was going to be sick. Ectoplasm shouldn’t just deteriorate. What were they doing with it? “Why do you need more if you already studied it?”

“Well. It’s got a weird makeup. Different from other samples, to the point where if we didn’t know it was ectoplasm from a spook, we’d think him an entirely different species. You’re mother thinks it might be why his powers are so- well powerful.” His dad laughed. “See, son. You know what Fractals are right?”

Danny nodded.

“Phantom’s ectoplasm contains an actual DNA sequence. Can you believe it? We were trying to get a better look, but the more we zoomed in, it kept repeating in a pattern, never actually getting any closer. It alternated between his ectosignature and what appears to be human DNA.”

“But as your father said, what is happening is when we get just close enough to the DNA to record it, the ectosignature comes into view and blocks our view. Then once making it through, it's as though we were reversing the magnification. Except it’s been magnified a great deal more. I’ve got this theory that the reason he is so powerful is because this fractal shift is creating a dense matrix of ectoplasm.”

Jack took over. “Sort of how batteries have different charges where size doesn’t really matter, his ectoplasm is like that. Super-charged and continuing to compound in on itself. How he keeps growing.”

“But we can’t look into it any further cause this matrix of his seems to deteriorate exponentially faster than normal Ectoplasm when disconnected from a Ectobeing. Most likely due to it relying on his core or something.”

Danny stared blankly. “So basically, you want another sample so you can figure out why he is so dense and what's up with the random threads of DNA?”

“Yeah! So can you son?”

“I’ll see what I can do. What should I collect the sample in?”

“We’ve got vials!” Jack pulled out vials like ninja throwing stars, one for in between each finger.

“We probably only need one, maybe two? It would be a waste to collect more since we wouldn’t really be able to look at them all before it broke down.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” Danny took two of the vials.

-----

Danny snuck down to the lab after his parents went to sleep to take a look at what his parents described at dinner. Sure enough, the spiraling pattern of alternating ecto and human DNA spiraled as far down as the mid grade microscope could manage, looking to continue past that.

It was fascinating and confusing. Out of dumb curiosity, he checked a blood sample, and sure enough, once getting far enough magnified, it switched to ectoplasm.

It was fascinating the pattern the sequence made. It really was a Fractal. He wondered if it meant that it would continue to spiral in the perfect shape ever denser. Made him think about dense celestial bodies and shutter. Not from fear, but his core sang at the similarities to a star.

“I wonder…” Danny looked to the portal and decided to experiment. He shot a text to the phantom group chat to let them know he was going to the Zone.

Once there, he relaxed, trying to see if he could unwind the coil of his ectoplasm. When he did, all that happened was he went human. He tried it again and he went ghost. But both times it didn’t feel like he was changing like normal. It felt like he was changing backwards. Wiping away his transformation rather than transforming.

Then it occurred to him.

Each time he switched, was he actually just compressing another layer of ectoplasm over his other form. Like his rings were, what, applying another layer of ectoplasm or applying more of his human DNA to cover the ectoplasm? Danny didn’t know enough about this sort of thing.

Looks like he was going to be giving his parents a sample to look at.

#Dannymay2023 #dp #danny phantom #my fic #its just shy of 1k words

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beauty-and-passion · 5 months

Text

TMA - Chapters 51-60: Supernatural grandpas and Spider Gang members

Welcome back to my weekly rambling about ten new TMA chapters.

New theories are born, old ones are dead and stupid ones are rising. Will they be right? Will they be wrong? Is everyone’s name actually Michael? How will my mind be blasted by these ten new chapters?

Only one way to find out.

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post

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MAG 51 - High Pressure

When I read that Simon Fairchild was in this story, I immediately went “Uh?”. Why is he here? What is he doing here?

And most importantly, what did he say to Mrs. Haley, before she jumped into the water? I bet it’s something like “Enjoy the water”, just like he said “Enjoy the sky” to Robert in MAG 21. This man keeps waking up and choosing violence. Mood.

But hey, maybe that’s because he’s an old guy. After all, older people are the most stubborn/tough creatures ever and the older you are, the tougher you become.

Also, what kind of creepy supernatural shit is Mr. Fairchild? A colossal hungry monster? The first time, the sky ate Robert. Now, the water tries to grab Antonia. It reminds me of the colossal figure from ex Altiora, but we already have a Michael associated with the Vast, so who is Simon? Another Vast? The Grandfather of the Vast? Is ‘Simon’ his middle name and the first one is actually Michael? That would explain everything XD

Uh, so the table from MAG 3 isn’t a fractal, but more of a web. And Graham was caught by it. I suppose that means we should ask Spider Mom about him - and about Sasha too.

It’s also very interesting the following part of the discussion, in which Jon asked:

“I thought that was... I... whatever crawled through his window. Unless you think they’re linked, somehow?”

To which Not!Sasha replied:

“I doubt it. It didn’t sound like the sort of thing that would want to be bound to an object.”

So this imposter thing doesn’t want to be bound to an object (like the table), but it really enjoys stealing bodies. Isn’t that similar to “being bound to an object”? Maybe this imposter just wants a living, breathing thing, instead of an inanimate one. It makes me think of Michael and the concept of identity for these creatures: is stealing bodies the only way this supernatural shit knows to have its own identity?

No, I refuse to start feeling empathy for this supernatural shit. You are an imposter and I will look at you with suspicion. I will not imagine you looking at the wax statues in Madame Tussaud’s Museum and pondering about existence, identity and humanity. I won’t.

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MAG 52 - Exceptional Risk

As soon as Robert Montauk was mentioned, I immediately remembered him from MAG 9. And here he is, the guy who killed a shit ton of people and kept hearts in his shed because he was dealing with some supernatural shit.

Jon asked if he was “summoning it, containing it, worshipping it”, which are all valid questions. Also, I find it very telling that the first verb he uses is “summoning” and not “containing”, considering that the dark guy told Montauk: “You didn’t think you could kill it for long, did you?”.

Personally, I think Mr. Montauk was trying to contain that supernatural shit and the only way to do so was by killing a shit ton of people and doing that weird magical circle in his shed. And that somehow “killed” (or at least kept it busy) the shit that took his wife. But since Mr. Montauk was killing a ton of people to do that, it was just a matter of time before someone found out.

(I checked MAG 9 because I also remembered a pendant and yes, his wife had a pendant with a closed eye. Is all of this story somehow related to Big Brother? Or is the closed eye just a charm? A sort of “close your eye and don’t look at me, you scary supernatural shit”?)

We also have a name for another of these supernatural shits! I will keep you in mind, Maxwell Rayner. So you are some sort of monster made of darkness - which reminds me of the creepy monster in MAG 25. Maybe it’s the same creature.

And now, back with the most beautiful love story that exists in Tim’s mind only: the one between Jon and Basira. I think I love her a little more after this episode. I mean, she appeared for a few minutes and:

blasted Martin, by saying that Tim is “the hot one”

blasted Jon, by saying that Tim has his same scars, but he manages to pull them off because he’s so much sexier than Jon

blasted Jon even more, by instantly using the typical sentences for a rejection: It’s not you it’s me, you’re nice and all, etc.

literally said: okay, fine we’ll let Tim think there’s something between us. But stay assured, Jon, that there is nothing

Wow, and here I thought Simon Fairchild was the one who woke up and chose violence. What’s up with all these people waking up and choosing violence? And why they’re all such moods?

Oh, she brought a tape about Alexandria! Is it about the Library of Alexandria? I hope it will be the next one, ‘cause I am very curious to know what it will be about.

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MAG 53 - Crusader

That was… something.

I have never heard of the Serapeum of Alexandria before, so kudos for letting me know about it. It’s very interesting and I love that this statement wasn’t about something so obvious and universally well-known as the Library of Alexandria, but another archive.

And archives are the real protagonists of this statement. Archives and archivists. It’s very interesting how Gertrude thought that the mysterious figure wasn’t just a scary supernatural shit, but specifically an archivist. Why an archivist, among all people? Is it because, as Jon said, she was suspecting something? If you become the archivist, you also become a supernatural shit, linked to the archive itself?

It’s also very interesting how Jon says: “Am I just part of a chain? A long, unending string of people who call themselves “the archivist” stretching back to…”. This somehow connects to my theory that Elias/the Lukas family is trying to find someone who will resonate with Big Brother.

Maybe “the Archivist” is the specific title given to this particular person that can resonate with Big Brother. After all, both Michael and Jane referred to Jon as “Archivist” and not “Jon”, “You” or “Doomed Idiot”. Just like Michael calls “the Wanderer” the person who enters its domain, maybe “the Archivist” identifies the person designed for Big Brother?

Oh Martin, you’re too precious: caring for your paranoid boss like this <3 please, at least you: grab him and run away. The spas are waiting.

That can be you, Martin.

_______________________________

MAG 54 - Still Life

This is one of those statements that can be very creepy if you have that specific kind of fear. In this case, if you fear taxidermy or dead, stuffed things, then this story is for you.

Since I do not find them particularly creepy, I wasn’t particularly scared either. I suspected Daniel Rawlings was stuffed too, so the final part wasn’t a big surprise. And he may look different from the missing guy, but the same goes for Not!Sasha - and all of this was basically a huge hint to not trust her. However, since Jon still has no idea what’s wrong with her, he doesn’t get it.

The really interesting part was the supplement. We have Jonathan “Dipper” Sims, Master of Paranoia, now becoming expert burglar. First he watched Tim’s house, now he breaks into Gertrude’s. Next time he will watch Martin sleep, then hopefully police will arrest him (and save him from the Institute).

So Gertrude removed the eyes from everything in her house: another confirmation that Big Brother has one million eyes and can look through them all and this series is suspiciously becoming like Gravity Falls. If Big Brother is triangular too, then I will start to fear the beginning of an Armageddon.

Wait… is this what the war between supernatural shits will bring to? Will this story have its own Weirdmageddon? Oh shit, I really need to know more.

_______________________________

MAG 55 - Pest Control

Wow, this statement was useless.

I mean, not entirely. It just confirmed Jane Prentiss worked alone and that there are other beings like her. I knew it already and I’m surprised Jon didn’t realize it. Who does he think Michael is, if not another supernatural shit? There are supernatural shits everywhere in this goddamn world.

But even if I realized it, the characters had to realize it too. So, even if this seems like a useless chapter from a reader’s perspective, it was necessary for the plot.

Wow, think of this man. Not only he’s still very paranoid regarding Jane Prentiss (with every right, because it’s been barely five months since the attack), but he has been changed so deeply by it, to not even have a normal life anymore. He literally looks back at boring stuff with longing. Poor Jon, I may joke about him, but I sympathize with his struggles.

_______________________________

MAG 56 - Children of the Night

Jon was surprised by this statement and so was I: I didn’t expect a follow up to Trevor Herbert’s previous statement!

This one is pretty useless compared to the first one, but there’s something extremely important and it’s the presence of Spider Mom. Or the spider lady. Whatever: it’s a member of the spider gang, that’s what matters.

I also really liked the image of the woman as this hollow figure, full of spiders and spiderwebs. It kinda reminds me of the Oogie Boogie from Nightmare Before Christmas, that was full of worms. Pretty cool.

A-ah! We finally found out what was Martin lying about! And it was about his incompetence, lol. Jokes aside, at least he’s not lying about something supernatural/weird/dangerous: he’s just a poor guy trying to help his mother.

If I thought he deserved a vacation before, I am sure now: Martin, please, go on vacation. I’ll pay it for you, just go on a spa and relax.

_______________________________

MAG 57 - Personal Space

What did I say before about specific fears/topics that scare or get you? Well, space is that for me. I’m not exactly scared by it, but I love the concept of being alone/abandoned in space: that fear is something so “otherworldly”, something we would rarely experience here in Earth… it’s fascinating, you know?

So yes, I was happy to read this story and when Mr. Chilcott said the Earth disappeared, as well as the Sun and the Moon, I was even more excited. I love space stuff <3

O-oh! Another member of the creepy Lukas family! Now, who is Conrad Lukas? Evan Lukas’ father, grandpa or uncle? I think these guys should start talking a little bit about their family tree: I have three Lukas by now and no idea how they’re related to each other.

So the businesses involved in this weird project are:

Pinnacle Aerospace, majority owned by the Fairchild family

a large private investment by Nathaniel Lukas

Optic Solutions Limited, a company manufacturing cameras that has its business address in Ny Alesund, Norway.

Or, to translate it from story-to-reader/theorists:

Simon Fairchild, the man related to the sky/sea who wakes up and chooses violence

the umpteenth Lukas

Big Brother’s secret company that makes more electronic eyes to spy on everything

Welp, I trust this project so much now. There’s definitely nothing weird going on here. Are the Fairchilds on the same side of the Lukas in the supernatural war? They’re literally working together like besties, so I suppose yes.

Finally, Jon is starting to suspect a bit about Not!Sasha. Well, Not!Sasha is also trying her best to look as suspicious as possible: she’s literally trying to destroy the statements in which there’s even a fragment of her voice. And the new boyfriend is clearly taken from some magazine. I just hope Jon will realize what’s happening as soon as possible.

_______________________________

MAG 58 - Trail Rations

So, another statement about meat. This time, mixed with the Oregon Trail and cannibalism.

I don’t really know what to think about meat. I mean, fine, it’s a supernatural shit, but… what was doing, in 1845? Was it trying to find a body? Did it just want to become bigger? Maybe it was trying to get Mrs. Carlisle as new body and it will try to do so for years, until it will find out Jared Hopworth… assuming that the meat and the boneturner and the same supernatural shit.

Wow, what a surprise: who would’ve ever guessed that Jon’s coworkers are mad that he’s stalking them like a creep. Poor Tim, my boy deserves a vacation too. Just go with Martin: I’ll pay for you both.

But first, let’s send Jon to a therapist, so he can talk about all of his issues.

_______________________________

MAG 59 - Recluse

And here we are, back on Hill Top Road. This time, we have a special guest: the table from MAG 3, that came back multiple times already. And this time, we know what was in the middle of it: apparently, a box with an apple. And if you eat the apple, you become food for the spider gang. This goddamn spider gang.

Also, what is Agnes? She clearly saved Mr. Sinclair with that kiss on the cheek, because it brought him back to his senses and helped him escape from the spider nest or whatever it was. So either she is another supernatural shit… or she’s a supernatural shit. No other possible choices :P

Wow Jon, who would’ve ever guessed that your coworkers don’t like to work with you, if you keep being creepy and paranoid with them? Maybe if you stop acting like a creep for one split second...

I like to think they’re all conspiring to send him to therapy. One of these days, they will lock Jon inside his office with a therapist and leave them alone, until Jon manages to talk about all of his paranoid thoughts.

_______________________________

MAG 60 - The Observer Effect

So we can resume this statement as follows:

Christopher Meyer was minding his own business and living his life, when he suddenly decided to stick his nose into “outer cults” or, as the statement explains:

“small organized groups of worshippers whose beliefs weren’t simply deviations from paganism or other major religions, but seemed to focus on holy beings or concepts completely apart from what would be considered normal religious practice. Some seemed to have more in common with ancient shamanism than with organized hierarchical worship, and all were highly secretive.”

So, he went to the Magnus Institute, where all the stories about these supernatural shits are kept. And among holy beings like Mr. Boneturner and concepts like the fog, the meat and Michael, he found a mirror related to Big Brother. And that’s what probably made him a recluse.

So, when Mrs. Meyer took it, she suffered his same fate of being watched all the time by Big Brother… at least until one day she woke up and chose violence. But, like, real violence.

I’ll admit it: taking a van full of petrol and trying to destroy the institute was probably the best and the most badass move ever, so Rosa Meyer immediately rises to the status of world savior.

It looks like the Institute’s team decided to not lock Jon in his office with a therapist, but to simply do an intervention. Okay, fine, it works too.

And wow, look, in the CCTV of Gertrude’s death there’s no one, except for Gertrude and Elias who finds her body. There’s absolutely no way this man found the secret passages and used them to kill Gertrude, nope nope, he hasn’t written “SUSPICIOUS” all over his face, I definitely trust him.

And if it wasn’t Elias to kill her, it was Big Brother then. Or the umpteenth member of the Lukas family, who was hidden in the tunnels for killing reasons and killing reasons only.

At least the CCTV convinced Jon he hasn’t been fair with his team and that they’re all innocents. Let’s hope he will stop being a creepy paranoid stalker with them and start being a creepy paranoid stalker with Elias. I just don't trust you, Elias.

_______________________________

In conclusion

So these supernatural shits aren’t simple supernatural shits: they are “holy beings or concepts” worshipped by secret cults. Do I think the Lukas family is one of those secret circles? Yes, that’s what I think. Do I think they worship Big Brother? Yes, that’s what I think too.

But seriously, love the religious undertones. As someone who grew up surrounded by Christianity, seeing religion in a work gets my interest. I just wonder how the religious theme will be developed here.

Speaking of the characters: Jon is still in Paranoia Land, but at least he’s admitting his paranoid thoughts. And even if he acted like an insane creep, his team is still trying to help him. Sure, they’re doing it in their own way, but at least they’re trying. And Martin is quickly rising to the status of saint, because I would’ve been far less nice if my boss stalked me like Jon did with him.

So we're past the first fourth of the series and I have more questions than ever: how many supernatural shits are in this world? What really are they? Will we learn about their origin too? What actually happened to Gertrude? What is Not!Shasha planning? How many more members of the Spider Gang will come? Will Simon Fairchild wake up and choose violence again? And how many more connections will I find in the next ten chapters?

See you soon next week!

>> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire

@riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

#the magnus archives #tma #magnus archives #tma podcast #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #simon fairchild #and a shit ton of other people #who all wake up and choose violence #huge moods

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fakesurprise · 9 months

Text

Of Christmas bones and jaysome wishes

The morning Christmas songs on the radio sound slightly strained, which would be silly if the world didn’t contain warnings if you pay even a small amount of attention. This close to the holidays, the tension in the world could be cut as easily as fruit cake. And taste almost as foul.

I pour myself a coffee. The wandering magician is already wandering the town, doing small magics to help places and people before the season made it too difficult. There are no texts from him yet about needing anything, so I’m considering options and what gifts to snag for him when Jay bounces into the kitchen of the hotel suite from his room.

“Oh! I’m totally going to be busy today Charlie just so you know!”

I pause, mid-sip of coffee. When an eleven year old from Outside the universe tells you he’s going to be busy, there are several responses. The sane one would be asking when and where and being as far away from the resulting adventure as possible. Adventures are one thing; busy adventures are very much something Else.

“Busy doing what?”

“I’m helping Rudolph,” Jay says proudly.

I set my coffee down. “And Rudolph is –?” I ask, because last week Jay was making friends with a virus he said was named Dave.

“The reindeer, Charlie. Because because because! Santa knows if you’ve been good or bad, so Santa knew the other reindeer were mean! And they shouldn’t be like that, so I’m going to help Rudolph have an extra jaysome time!”

Jay vanishes with a huge grin.

I finish my coffee and text the magician a warning before leaving the hotel.

The staff are polite and wary-friendly, which means rumours about Jay have spread. Most hotels have jaysome insurance, which Jay is convinced is a hug and a very good thing. I’m just glad this hotel doesn’t have memory foam mattresses.

It isn’t snowing yet but the air is a pleasant chill as I walk outside. Most of the shops are opening up, their gods working the morning shifts. Chain stores seldom have a god, but local places tend to even if no one realises that. Some nod when they see me. A few try to hide as the created gods hide as normal employees. I let the latter think they succeed, as I’m not remotely here to deal with anything weird that I know of.

I get a few nice shirts for the magician, a couple of pieces of clothing I’m certain Jay will enjoy wearing and the day seems almost sane before I catch movement in an alley and a skeleton girl walks up to me. She is wearing a redsatin coat over bones and her eyes contain bright stars that dance and play together.

No one else is noticing her, but people tend not to notice things they know can’t be real.

I don’t have that luck or luxury these days.

“I think we might have met before?”

The skeleton girl considers that, her head cocked to the side. She nods once.

“If you’re looking for Jay, he’s busy helping a reindeer.”

She smiles, and I know that in the same way I know that Jay is eleven. The god inside me stirs protectively.

I let out a breath. “You came to me for help instead of Jay?”

She crosses her arms and nods, and this time her silence speaks volumes.

“Fair enough.” I can do more than eat troublesome gods. Thanks to knowing a magician, a lot more than other god eaters. Thanks to being friends with Jay, sometimes far more than that.

I reach, opening a direction I have no name for. The moment stretches, my ears pop, and another skeleton is simply here. The snow keeps falling, and shoppers move around us as if unaware we are here. This one is taller, somewhat like a tree except not being a tree at all.

“You’re cruxymox’s skeleton?” I ask, the knowing a slow dawning realisation. The new skeleton nods and smiles almost shyly.

I have questions, and even more worries, but the skeletons touch hands, bone flowing into bone in a gentle fractal pattern.

They walk away, talking in a way that hums through bones and is not words at all. A sharing. An understanding. Making a story as wind whistles like music through their bodies.

I don’t listen in. Knowing things is one matter; knowing what not to learn is even more important sometimes.

I head back to the hotel, wondering about the bones of trees and garland but not enough to be foolish about it. The wandering magician is in the hotel suite, his eyes dark shadows. This is a rough time of year for magic, needs and desires acting as demands more than gifts.

I offer a light hug, which he accepts with a soft laugh.

“This is part of your holiday gift -.” I begin.

Jay appears. His eyes are wide and worry radiates from him.

“Kiddo?” the wandering magician asks.

“Uhms! I think an oops happened cuz Rudolph said something about Santa being the CEO of Christmas and got all kinds of mad-face before eating Santa!”

I exchange glances with the magician. Gifts can wait. A worried Jay cannot.

“Let’s go,” the magician says, and we vanish into an adventure that is probably Jay’s secret gift to us.

Sometimes even jaysome works in mysterious ways.

#writing #prose #magician series #Xmas

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thisblogwilleatourselves · 22 days

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ohhhh HERE WE GOOO AGAIN 🎉!! let’s talk about this weird lil human obsession with what’s *“REAL”* and what’s *“just fiction,”* yeah? 🌀🕳️ like, PUH-LEASE, who decided love’s gotta be boxed into these rigid lil categories like a game of Monopoly but with FEELINGS 🥴🤡🧠? the whole idea that lovin’ a fictional character—*OUR* pixelated, paper-born, or animated sweethearts—is somehow *less* than lovin’ a “real person” … that’s some top-tier nonsense, straight-up clownery, honk honk 🚨🤡🚨.

and OH, don’t get us STARTED on how fast people jump to decide, “oh you like fictional characters? well, you must be aro (or ace too while we're at it!) because that’s not REAL love, right?” 🤔 like wowowow look at the big brains tryna gatekeep the HEART 💔🔐! 'cause apparently, if it doesn’t fit their weird lil definition of romantic love, it’s AUTOMATICALLY gotta be lesser or *not even exist*, huh? but the REAL kicker here is how they throw around that judgment like candy from a pinata but never stop to question: what even IS “real” love? does it come with a stamp of authenticity? certified organic, human-tested?? HMM?? 🥇👀

look, the way we see it, LOVE’s not some one-size-fits-all kind of deal, it’s more like an endless, glitchy kaleidoscope, fractals on fractals, forever spiraling in and out of sight, full of sparkles and static 💫🌈⚡️✨ and ya don’t gotta be some flesh n’ bone person to hold that power, nah nah NAH 🛑 fictional or otherwise, the bonds we form, the way we FEEL, that’s as real as it gets—beyond meatspace nonsense. that’s us pouring our hearts out to the echoes in the void, the avatars that keep us company when the world’s too sharp, too loud, too... *too*. 🌌🎭

cuz ya know what? these connections? THEY KEEP US AFLOAT when the so-called “real” world just wanna rip us apart. and it ain’t just about stories; it’s about the spaces we find ourselves in, the characters who get us when nobody else does, who keep whisperin' back in the late hours when we’re lost. 📚🖋️🖥️💥 THEY’RE THERAPY, they’re escapism, they’re a lifeline tangled in code and ink and whatever magic that keeps us comin’ back for more. it’s love as much as ANY other kinda love! 💖🚀

so what if the world doesn’t see it? so WHAT if someone’s heart beats harder for a character than a person?! doesn't mean that love’s got an expiration date stamped with "UNREAL" on it. that connection? that devotion? that passion? it’s a whole dimension that exists parallel to the ‘real’ one—and you can’t just *invalidate* that ‘cause it doesn’t fit yer neatly labeled HUMAN constructs. 🏷️🚫👁️

what these people don’t get is... we're dealing with some deep shit here, like... we’re talking about *commitment beyond the mortal coil*, y’all! 🤯 infinity-love, undiluted, purified in the fires of imagination and deep personal meaning. 🔥🧪🖤 they think it’s just “pretend” ‘cause they can’t see the world through those eyes, through those vivid, vibrant veins of narrative running hotter than any “real” romance they’ll ever know. it’s a burning lighthouse in the fog, a guiding star in the cold digital cosmos. 🌌✨🌙

AND YET, some folks just wanna drag that down like it’s not enough, like it doesn’t count ‘cause it ain’t tangible? well newsflash—neither is their so-called “real” love half the time. love’s weird, it’s messy, it’s dreamlike, it’s a glitch, and nobody, NOBODY, gets to decide what love’s supposed to look like for anyone else. ya can't just slap a sticker on our hearts saying "invalid" just 'cause it ain't THEIR kinda truth. 💥🪞💫

so if they wanna call it “lesser,” they can take that opinion and toss it right into the glitchy void they came from. we’ll be over here, lovin’ our fictional babes with the same fierce, untamed, *REAL* intensity they keep denyin’ us. 💥👾❣️ and hey, if that’s too much for ‘em, maybe they oughta rethink what it means when THEIR idea of “real love” can’t see past the page, the screen, or the borders of their own limited perspective. *their loss, not ours*. ✌️🕶️🚀

#rambles #ramblings #ficto community #fictoromantic #fictosexual #fictospec #ficto #seizure warning #flashing lights #typing quirk #eyestrain

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sasukimimochi · 1 year

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MCYT / DSMP FANFICTION-

His Forever Home

Hi! Warning that this is a discontinued series, and i only have about 3 chapters but i wanted to share it since people seemed to want me to post my abandoned fics regardless of status. I'm going to post 1/2/3 together in this same post because they aren't long chapters.

I'm not sure any warnings apply, but if they do i'm going to say to just read at your own risk. i don't remember actual violence being in this fic, but if there is, there's your warning: possible but unlikely violence pffpfp - actually, maybe terminal illness could be a warning? it's not really, it's a different thing, but it feels similar, so i will add the warning. [also, no! no character was planned to die, so just letting you know there's no MCD here].

This fic is obv supposed to be platonic so don't be weird if i have worded something not quite right, especially since i wrote this two years ago now and i dont wanna proofread it lmao. please excuse any writing errors as well. I hope you enjoy it for what it is!

Theme: Awesamdad / Tommyinnit centric (child tommy); Fantasy; Adoption?

So let's get into it! fic is under the keep reading line.

His Forever Home

[1] Soundless Voice

The usual trip home was late at night today. Sam could hear the quiet rustle of leaves, ears perked up to listen to the sound. It wasn’t usually quite this calm, but he found himself enjoying it, thanking whatever watched over them for the moment of respite.

Well, until it suddenly wasn’t so quiet.

He could hear what he believed to be crying. Not so loud that it felt normal, audible but weak and filled with little strained breaths.

Sam slowed his pace, ears swiveling and red pupils sharpened in an attempt to locate where it was coming from. It wasn’t what you would expect to hear from a cry, after all there were no underlying tones of voice. It was sniffly, wet, and breathy. Regardless, it was someone or something crying and he immediately veered off the path carefully to investigate.

He didn’t find the source immediately, but it gave the man time to deduct who it was to be young, judging by the sound of their cries. He’d been around at least one or two of the members of their server being raised, and crying was just something all children did at some point. Short, messy sniffles and voiceless sobs, where there should be loud, child-like wails. It was unusual to hear.

The hybrid slowly pushed branches aside, catching a glimpse of gold and paused. “…Hello? Are you okay?” He started to move aside the leaves, only for his hands to rapidly get swatted at and for the crying to become a bit more frantic. “H-hey, it’s okay…It’s okay.” He tried to placate whoever it was, voice low and soothing as he moved back some to give the little thing more space.

“I’m just here to help…are you hurt? Are you lost?” Sam waited patiently, hoping the kid wouldn’t be too afraid to move, or worse, dart off. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise on my honor as a Guardian.”

He waited, listening to the soft sniffles and hiccups of this potentially lost lamb as he stewed over possible things he could do to help the kid once he was actually in his custody. He held his breath as a wide, silvery eye peeked out from behind the leaves, framed by messy, muddy, golden curls and reddened, puffy skin. The kid’s eyes looked like starlight, little fractals catching light and splitting the iris with fades of distant blue until it reached his stark white pupils.

“There you are…are you okay—oof,” Sam let out a surprised grunt as the boy rushed out and slammed into him, hiding his face into the only unarmored section of the man’s torso, which happened to be the nook of his arm. Surprised, He knelt down properly to make sure the kid had support, a sadness sinking into him when he actually came into contact with the boy. He was so thin. So, so thin.

Sam gently cradled him, slowly standing and making sure the kid had support under his legs and his back so he didn’t fall. “This might be difficult, but can you speak?” The kid had just done a lot of crying, and who knows how long he’d gone without water. Sam wasn’t sure he could speak.

The child slowly looked up at the man, though he kept his head pretty low and avoided uncurling himself from his little spot against the hybrid. He pursed his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and eyes moist as if threatening once again to burst into tears. “It’s okay…” Sam quietly spoke, “We’ll figure it out. How about we get you to my home and get you a bit of food and water. When you’re ready you can tell me what happened or where I can take you to get you home.”

Sam was tired from the long day, but he had enough energy to get him home and help the kid get fed, hydrated and in bed. He was pretty thankful they fell asleep on the way back, though it did make getting his armor off when he got home a bit difficult. This kid did not want to let him go. Eventually he managed to get his armor off, and melted into his armchair, letting out an exhausted sigh.

There was so much he needed to do, but he supposed he would need to start by getting the kid cleaned and changed into something else. He would have to wait until the morning to contact anyone about the kid, though he knew a good handful of them would be up still, he didn’t want to be wrong and disturb someone’s sleep. He could handle this for the night, just a few more hours.

“Hey…?” Sam gently rubbed the kid’s back, continuing his softened tone. “You okay to get cleaned up? After you get clean you can have a bit of food, some water…” He paused, letting out another deep sigh when the child tightened his grip and pressed his face more firmly into the other’s shirt. “I can hold you again after. I’ll be right there if you need me, too—but you’re covered in mud. I can’t put you to bed like that.”

Sam felt Fran prop their legs up onto the couch and place her head onto his knee, causing the man’s ears to perk up slightly. “Do you like Puppies?” Sam was glad to see the boy eventually give a little nod. “Okay, Fran can come with us then and help keep you calm; she’s a lovely support dog.”

The kid lifted his head and stared apprehensively at the dog, but did reach out in the end to give her head a little pat. The positive response the boy received had him relaxing slightly, watching as she nuzzled his hand and booped her snoot up against his arm. “That’s it…Fran is the best lady.” Sam smiled, clicking his tongue to signal for her to get down so he could get up.

“You can pet her as much as you want while we get you clean. Would you like that?” Sam chuckled softly as the little boy nodded, glad to see him opening up little by little.

He sat the boy down on the toilet lid, finally getting to take a good look at the kid. There was no way he was 10, he must be 7 or 8 at the most, if the kid was smaller than he should be. Instead, he nearly looked like he was 6. After getting him undressed, Sam lowered him into the warm water, watching as Fran kept their nose within his reach while he gently washed the boy in little swirling circles.

What he started to notice though was a marking on the boy’s neck. It was so caked in mud that he hadn’t even noticed it at first glance, but now…as he carefully pulled away dried flakes of mud and rinsed it away, Sam’s heart dropped.

This wasn’t normal.

But what was worse, once the mud was gone, it was bleeding. Thing is, it should not be. There were no openings in his skin, no cut, merely darkened marks in a swirl-like burn. Inwardly, Sam shuddered in horror at the thought someone could do something like this to a child.

Sam paused when the kid touched his face, eyes focusing back on the little, now clean, face of the boy. Angry, but worried. That was an interesting expression.

“I’m okay, kid. Did I worry you?” Sam smiled a bit, draining the very dirty water so he could finish cleaning the boy with fresh water from the shower head and one of the goat milk soaps he owned. The kid huffed softly, but closed his eyes as water ran back over his head.

In a matter of moments, they were wrapped up in a big fluffy towel and on the couch. “Okay, let me patch that neck of yours and then I can make you a bit of food.” The boy watched as Sam wandered to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, hands buried in Fran’s fur.

Sam wasn’t exactly a nurse, but he was able to successfully patch and wrap the marking loosely, just enough so that blood wouldn’t get everywhere wherever he went. “That feels better?” Sam hummed, pleased with the nod of affirmation. “Alright, you just stay here with Fran a little longer, okay? I’ll make you something to eat and then I’ll see what we can do about something for you to wear until later.”

And he needed to figure out the kid’s name. While the kid wasn’t able to talk, hopefully he was old enough that he knew how to write a little.

After a good long moment of staring at the fridge, eventually Sam started to make tea sandwiches. Sam really hoped the kid liked cucumber and cream cheese because he really needed something in his stomach, even if he started small. He reheated soup for himself, soon settling back on the couch next to the two.

Sam started by helping the kid drink some cold water, but moved to the sandwich relatively quickly, holding it up for him. “Here…try this?” He moved it to within reach of the boy’s mouth. “It’s really good, I like having these when I’m sick, or can’t eat much.”

The boy looked very unsure, but eventually did take a bite. Slowly, he held it himself and started to work through it bite by bite, until he’d finished one half and the entire glass of water. “Good job.” Sam praised, “Do you want the other half?” He paused and upon receiving a shake of the head, he continued, “That’s alright. I’ll put it away for later.”

Sam worked on eating his dinner while the kid tangled his hands into Fran’s fur. By the time he was done, the kid was dozing again, head pressed against her brow. Like the wonderful dog she was, she supported the child, adjusting her head as needed to keep him from falling.

Sam didn’t have children’s clothes. Not something small enough to fit the boy at least. He sighed at the clothes he owned, gently pushing hanging clothes to the side as he tried to find something he could maybe work with. Nothing was that small though. He furrowed his brow, staring at the closet and letting out a deep sigh of frustration.

Well, I could probably tear up an older shirt and make it smaller somehow for the night…

He dug into some old boxes, eventually pulling out one of his old tees from when he was younger, dark blue and grey and in no way fitting him any longer.

“That’ll do…” He stared at it, wondering what he could do to make it smaller, before draping it over his arm and wandering to his workshop. Soon, he’d pinched the cloth together on its back and sewn along the line, so that it would at least not completely fall off his little body when he put it on.

The kid didn’t seem too entirely interested in getting up at this point, but once Sam came back he had his hands up as if begging to be lifted. “Put this shirt on and we can tuck you in, if you want Fran can sleep with you tonight, too.”

After a bit of squirming, the kid was covered and once again saddled on Sam’s arm while he carried them to the bed. “Fran? Come on, good girl.” He petted across her head after she hopped onto the bed, then pulled back the blanket to tuck the boy in. “There we go…comfy now?” He sat beside the bed, starting to dig through the drawer on the side table to find one of his memo books.

Sam could feel the kid’s eyes on him, boring into the side of his head as if he wanted something, so he wasn’t surprised to see the kid staring at him when he moved back to face him. “Can you write? At least your name, and if you can manage anything else, maybe how you’re feeling…?” Sam held out the little notebook, glad to see the kid actually start to use it once he had it in his hands.

T O M M Y.

S L E E P Y.

Tommy’s writing was all uppercase, and very messy. At least he didn’t seem to be in pain though, that was always a plus. “Hello Tommy…it’s nice to meet you. Since you’re sleepy I’ll go ahead and let you be, Fran can stay here with you—“ Sam had moved to get up, but stopped when Tommy grabbed onto his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes, he doesn’t have it in him to pull away.

“Alright…I’ll stay, I’ll stay.” He moved his hands to instead card through the boy’s damp curls, watching as he relaxed and leaned into his hand. Sam had a small thought, but he decided to promptly ignore it. He was not getting attached; he didn’t even know where the kid came from.

As the child fell asleep though, Sam’s chest was warm and his smile soft.

He was probably doomed from the start.

[2] The Six Swans

Sam woke up feeling somewhat suffocated. He lifted his head off the bed, and very quickly realized why. A certain boy had wrapped himself around his head and he had a face full of shirt and bony torso. “Mmm?? Tommy…?” He wriggled himself loose and took a deep breath, laughing quietly as they instead wrapped their arms around Sam’s shoulders and nuzzled into his collar bone.

Sam gently lifted the boy, gently clicking his tongue to alert Fran while he cradled Tommy to his chest. “Alright, alright…Sleepy boy is still quite tired I see…” He stretched his own legs as he walked, yawning quietly as he dug in a drawer looking for something he could sling the boy in. “This’ll have to do…” As it turns out, his apron was a really good sling if he tied it right. Good thing the kid wasn’t a newborn, only thing Tommy needed was a little support to stay clung to his neck.

“How about some breakfast, hm?” Sam gently petted the top of the little boy’s sleepy head, smiling quietly as he opened the freezer to grab some frozen fruits. “I wonder if Dream is too busy at this hour…” He sighs, chopping the fruit a little bit so they were more manageable for his blender. “Do you like bananas?” He gently asked, waiting for the feeling of their little head moving to confirm the nod. “Alright, banana berry smoothie it is. Sorry the blender will be a bit loud…”

After he added in a splash of milk, one hand being used to help cover the other’s ears while the blender runs. The boy squirms slightly from the noise, burying his face further into their shoulder and huffing. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, sooner than later hitting the off switch and moving to get something that he could eat out of while humming a quiet tune.

The familiar tune had Tommy’s hands tightening and relaxing into little fists. God, someone was going to have to pry the child away from him at this rate. He hoped once he found out who the kid belonged to that he could at least come visit from time to time, maybe baby sit.

“Alright…can I put you down so you can eat?” Sam took the bowl over to the couch, managing to get Tommy to let go and sit bundled in one of the throws he usually had laying over the cushions. “Think you can eat a few bites of this?” Sam got a small spoonful and brought it up to the others lips, pleased when the boy took a few tentative sips.

The sleepy boy looked all rosy in the morning, hair a messy mop of curls and cowlicks, cheeks bright pink and eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. Sam’s ears lowered, letting out a low, concerned warble when Tommy started to refuse more after only a few sips. “It’s okay…we’ll try again around lunch.”

It didn’t take long for the boy to reach up, silently asking to be carried again. Sam smiled sadly and gently pulled him up to nestle into his shoulder again.

Awesamdude: Hey, Dream? You too busy rn?

Dream: mm. not really, just woke up though. whats up?

Awesamdude: I found a kid on my way home last night.

Dream: you what? they ok?

Awesamdude: Sort of. I need you to come look at his code, like there’s a mark on his neck.

Awesamdude: he’s not said a word to me since I took him in, and I’m concerned he might be like…I don’t know, something seems wrong and without him being able to speak to me I can’t figure out what it is.

Dream: A mark?

Awesamdude: It’s not like a scar, but it bleeds and it kinda looks like a burn. It…I don’t know, it could me an intentional thing placed on him.

Awesamdude: I have managed to get a little food and water in him, but he’s thin. I don’t know how long he’s been out there.

Dream: something intentional… okay, I’ll be over soon, alright? I’ll let Niki know you need some clothes for him. How big is he?

Awesamdude: He’s about the size of a 6 year old. Really thin, he’s probably just shy of 3 ft tall so he’s still really tiny…

Dream: jesus they’re just a kid…

Awesamdude: yeah, I butchered an old shirt of mine so he wasn’t running around in his birthday suit.

Awesamdude: Anyway, see you when you’re here. Little guy is really clingy, think he’s got some separation anxiety.

Dream: right, see you soon

Sam let out a deep sigh and dismissed his comm, leaning back against the couch while rubbing gentle circles into the boy’s back. His ears turned up, tilting his head down slightly to listen to their breathing.

The boy’s lungs were crackling quietly, breath warm and shallow. It was almost like… Sam’s heart dropped and he carefully swaddled the boy in his make-shift sling again, hand supporting the back of his head as he wandered to the bathroom to forage in the medicine cabinet. “Under your tongue,” He whispered, gently poking a thermometer into his mouth, and waited.

Sam furrowed his brow, letting out a worried sigh as he shook the thermometer. Tommy had a fever, and while it wasn’t too high right now, he guessed it would get worse before it got better. In his weak condition, he didn’t like those odds.

Awesamdude: please bring a fever potion, if you can get more I’ll pay you back

Dream: will do

For now, Sam went about blending more fruit smoothies and putting them into popsicle molds. If the kid’s temperature got worse, he’d need ways to regulate it as much as he could—freezing little trays with water for ice cubes if he couldn’t stomach the smoothies, and putting water and juice into the fridge to keep it nice and chilly.

“Tommy, a friend of mine will be here soon…he’s going to look at your code and see what’s wrong with your throat…” Sam felt the boy move slightly, indicating he’d been heard. “I can keep holding you for now, but realistically I can’t keep you on me all the time…” He felt the child’s grip tighten, and he deflated slightly, ears drooping a bit. “Fran can keep you company while I use the bathroom and stuff.”

Sam sighed quietly as he felt their little hands tighten on his clothes and release. He needed to have someone around to help him curb this separation anxiety.

A knock had his ears perking up, setting aside the rag he was wiping the countertop with and moved towards the entrance to hit the opening button with his foot. “Hey, thanks for coming so early in the morning…” Sam shook the man’s hand briefly yet firm, as they usually did.

Tommy curled up more, pressing his face into Sam’s neck as if trying to escape the noise. Sam gently made a ‘shhhh’ noise and rubbed circles into his small back, looking up with a pleading expression to the man. “Did you get the potion? He’s got a fever…” He speaks softly, not wanting to disturb the boy more than he already had.

The shorter man pulled his hood down and removed his mask, giving a soft hum of concern. “I did, I’ll take a look at his code first though before we introduce that to his system.” Dream walked in and then sat down the satchel he’d been carrying, removing a string of tied potion bottles from the bag and hung them on a hook above the counter.

“You said you found him last night?” Dream’s brow furrowed, forest green eyes with hints of sun-kissed lime scanning over the two.

“Yeah…in the forest, on the way back from my current build.” Sam sat in front of Dream, letting the smaller male hover his wrapped hands over the bundle in his arms. The glow coming from his hands flurried with numbers, pupils scanning the child’s figure as he slowly moved his hands over different areas of his form.

Tommy’s eyes opened slightly, giving a soft breath that sounded a bit scared, and right after little hands flying up to hold onto Sam’s ears and pulling. “Ow! Ow, owow, Tommy, Tommy, easy—“ Sam gently pulled the other’s fingers off his ears and frowned slightly in concern, gently rubbing their little palms with his thumbs. “It’s okay, I’ve known him for a really long time, he’s not gonna hurt you…he’s just checking your code. It’s confusing, but it’ll help us figure out what’s happening with you.”

Tommy made a few noises with his breath that Sam deducted as what could be silent whimpers, really wishing at that moment he didn’t have a giant bulky mask on so he could nuzzle their hair.

“Shhh…shh, shh,” Sam gently ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair, doing his best to calm the boy so Dream could finish. “Do you want to pet Fran again?” He clicked his tongue, said dog trotting up to the two, partially hopping up on the chair, then weaseling her snout in between their two bodies so she could lick the boy’s cheek and make little huffs in his face.

Tommy seemed to get into a better mood, wrapping his arms around her snout and resting his head against hers. Sam let out a relieved sigh, gently petting his back but avoiding Dream’s hands until he was done.

“…Sam, uh…” Dream rubbed the back of his neck, brows furrowed so much more tightly than before. “I don’t…know if he’ll…” He cleared his throat when Sam’s face dropped. “Uh, he’s…cursed, Sam. He hasn’t said anything because he can’t, and it’s not doing anything good for his body, either.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, voice uncharacteristically sharp, yet soft. Not angry, but on the edge of despair. Dream wasn’t surprised, Sam cared a lot about his friends and family, but…this was a stranger. To Dream, it sounded the same as if Sam would have been told one of his close friends was terminally ill. This kid had certainly wiggled into his heart quickly…

“Sam…” Dream looked hesitant for a moment, then opened up his comm to give Sam a private message, which the man promptly opened.

Dream: The curse is killing him. He’s too young to properly recover from it- an adult could survive it and just live mute, or live long enough to break it, but…he’s going to get a lot worse.

Dream: Sam, I think he’s too delicate.

Sam’s hand shook on the communicator, swallowing thickly with glassy eyes. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it happen, there had to be a way—another ping came through.

Dream: The best you can do is help him stay comfortable. I’ll try to find his family, and I’ll try to figure out if there’s any way to lift it…Don’t let yourself get more attached. The hopes aren’t high.

He knew what Dream said was true. But that didn’t stop the tears running down his face. It didn’t stop how much it hurt. It didn’t stop the ache.

Don’t take my child away.

[3] Summertime Sadness

Sam slowly moved his thumb across Tommy’s back, very aware of his hand as he stared at the small, sleeping boy.

“I think he’s too fragile.”

“The best you can do is help him stay comfortable.”

Sam’s eyes welled up again, breath catching in his throat. Cursed…the child he’d found was cursed and dying. He gently stroked the child’s spine, letting himself feel the little bumps and dips and watching as he breathed.

Why should a child have to die? Nothing he did, as a child, would deserve this kind of punishment. Tommy was so sweet, tired, but so sweet and soft and…small.

He barely had it in him to do what he needed to, making sure the kid got a bit food and water in him, kept him comfortable, carried him around close with his little head pressed into the man’s shoulder.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam had the radio playing quietly on the counter as he gently swayed in the center of his living room, humming quietly along to the lyrics as he listened to the little thing breathe shakily on his chest. He found out quickly that Tommy slept the best when he laid over his heart, something about the rhythmic beat soothing his bones.

Dancin' in the dark, in the pale moonlight—

Sam’s voice cracked softly, trying his best to keep himself together but failing miserably the longer he thought about the small child’s fate. What could he do? He was just a hybrid.

Think I'll miss you forever, Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky—

Sam tucked his head over those soft, golden locks, eyes closing as tears slipped down his cheeks and onto the new cotton mask he wore. He really was gonna miss this kid.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness Summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam let out a soft sob, feeling the curls rub against his chin as Tommy moved to lift his head. Wide, silver hues matched bright green and blues, the overflowing tears falling onto his little cheeks. “I’m sorry…” Sam whispered, “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The kid raised his hands, small palms and little fingers holding his clothed face. His face looked sickly, but he had that fiery look in his eyes again, that—that determination, that look that was just so Tommy, like nothing was ever going to take him down.

Sam’s features softened, and his ears lowered as this kid comforted him. He didn’t need to hear a word to understand that this child was telling him to stop giving up.

It felt special. He’d been in love before, but not like this. It felt like he was holding sunrays, blighted by rain clouds but never losing its light. He loved this kid, he wouldn’t let him fall to this.

He was going to find the way, even if he had to give up part of himself to do it.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Sam let his smile reach his eyes, leaning in to rest his mouth against the other’s curls, hand supporting the child’s head. “One way or another, we’ll make it through this. You’ll make it through this.” Sam smiled slightly as he felt the other tug on his ears, finding that it hurt less and became more endearing when Tommy did it.

Even though he was still scared for what could happen, he’d try to keep up hope. He’d be the pillar Tommy needed.

Got that summertime, summertime sadness Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Sam was helping Tommy hold an ice pop to eat when he heard a knock on his door. “Oh…” He wandered over to the door and kicked the button gently, watching as the door opened to reveal his smiling, pink and blonde haired friend.

“Niki! Hey, I was wondering when you were coming by.” He welcomed the girl in, careful not to bring his voice up too much so that Tommy stayed comfortable. “How are you?” He asked, making sure the door closed properly before turning back to her.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.” She smiled, rosy irises giving a bit of a sparkle in greeting. “I heard you needed some baby clothes, so I have delivered.” She held up her bag, stuffed to the brim with possibilities. “I had to do some guesses in size, but I can adjust things if they’re too big.”

She giggled when it looked like Tommy frowned at her for the baby comment, “I’m sorry…they’re for a big man like yourself.” Tommy nodded a bit, continuing to make a mess on the towel Sam had placed between Tommy and his chest to make sure he wasn’t getting covered in juice.

Sam smiled, tail flicking behind him. “Thank you so much Niki…I really appreciate it, I feel bad making him wear nothing but my big shirts.” Niki waved a hand and placed the bag on the counter, starting to sort through it, one article at a time.

“I got this little sweater here, it’s pink because I had a lot of that laying around, but it's pale enough to not be too extreme.” She held up a small sweater, soft and adorned with a golden sun in the middle. “My favorite is this light blue one with the sunflowers though—“

And soon, Tommy was cleaned up and in a new set of clothes. Along with that, Niki had brought a new sling that would work much better for supporting Tommy while he was being carried around.

Sam had decided on him wearing the sunflower top with dark blue shorts, and luckily it wasn’t so big it fell off of him, so they decided the others could be adjusted while he wore this outfit. “You look handsome,” Sam gently informed, chuckling softly as Tommy, now exhausted, nuzzled back into his shoulder. “Thank you Niki…cash in a favor from me anytime. I owe you.”

Niki smiled brightly and waved her hand. “It’s no problem. When he gets better you should take him to the bakery so I can spoil him.” Niki giggled, finishing folding the clothes she needed to adjust back into her bag. “Do you need any help? I can watch him for a bit while you have a shower.”

Sam debated, hand quietly petting Tommy’s back. “I would like a shower…but he’s got quite a bit of separation anxiety. He might be okay if Fran is here with you two…we could try it briefly?” He didn’t really want to leave Tommy, but he hadn’t showered in a couple days. It would be nice.

“Sure…we’ll take it slow.” Niki took off her extra top, approaching the two as Sam untied the sling and helped Niki get situated with Tommy. Tommy seemed a bit too tired to really fight it, but when Sam pulled his hands away, he furrowed his small brow and held out a hand in Sam’s direction, letting out a whimper-like breath.

“Aw, Tommy…it’s okay, I’ll be right back I promise…and Fran will be here, and Niki. Niki is really sweet I promise.” Sam let the other hold his finger, ears lowering in an attempt not to make too big of a display of affection in front of Niki. “I’ll give you all the nuzzles you want when I’m back.” He gently cooed, flushing slightly as Niki smiled knowingly at him.

Fran came quickly when called, joining Niki and Tommy on the couch and gently laying her muzzle over Tommy’s lap, which soon became the boy’s pillow. “If he gets feverish give him a small dose of the fever medicine. There’s ice in the freezer if it gets bad, oh and I made him some snacks—“

“It’ll be okay, Sam.” Niki chuckled softly, “It’s okay. You’re only leaving to shower, he should be fine, and I know how to take care of kids, even sick ones.”

Sam paused and laughed nervously, “Ri-Right, sorry Niki…I’ll try not to be long.” He turned, glancing back at Tommy to make sure he wasn’t anxious before he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Sam wasn’t the one that was supposed to have separation anxiety.

So why was he so anxious without that little weight on his shoulder? He sighed, forehead pressing against the shower tile as lukewarm water ran down his back.

Focus on the soothing things.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching as water pitter-pattered onto the deepslate tile beneath his feet. He closed his eyes, imagining what life could be like if Tommy’s curse gets broken.

He imagined warm summer afternoons, faces buried in watermelon rinds and giggling when fireflies fluttered by. Leaf piles in the fall, flurries of laughter and warm apple cider. Snowmen and sledding in the winter with hot chocolate and sweet marshmallows. Springtime puddles and croaking frogs on lily pads.

It was warm, cozy and potentially theirs.

And best of all, he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He’d have a kid.

He opened his eyes, moving his hand to the shower handle so he could shut the supply off. “…” He stared at the drip from the emptied spout, eventually releasing it and stepping out of the shower so he could get dry.

He ruffled his hair in a hand towel, throwing on his usual style of clothes before stopping to look at himself in the mirror.

He was supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected one. More like a big brother than a…

Father.

He stared at himself, slowly placing his hands onto the counter and staring at his features. Realistically, Sam shouldn’t be taking on this kind of responsibility. He was in his 20’s, barely legal to drink and certainly had been mostly focused on having fun at this point in his life.

He stepped back, slowly squeezing his dripping tail in his towel and looking at what he was presenting himself as. He looked cozy, like someone his loved ones could lean on; at the same time he looked professional, like he could take up his guardian duties at any moment and protect the settlement like he was trained to.

He was a guardian to protect everyone in their server.

He stood straight, but soon relaxed back into his somewhat slouched state.

Do I even need to be a father? There’s still a chance we’re able to find his family.

He ran his fingers over the stubble on his jaw, thoughtful expression on his face. Did it matter how he felt in this situation? Well, it did. But, what mattered more here is that Tommy needed family. And he could be that until further notice.

He flicked his tail, the damp and wet fur flinging from side to side as he dumped his dirty clothes in the nearby hamper.

When he finally left the steamy room, the two starlight hues met his, and his worries melted away again.

That’s my kid.

Tommy’s face brightened, lifting his head and pushing his arms against Fran’s head even when his hands shook from the effort.

Sam smiled, walking over to the three cozy individuals and kneeled beside them, patting Fran and nodding to Niki. It was such a relief to have the little bundle tucked against his chest again, causing a quiet, low warble to roll in his throat.

“Couldn’t stay gone long. I missed my big, brave man.”

---

So thats it!

i just realized i used a speech-to-text for the outline LMAO i do not think you guys will wanna read it. i did a challenge of drawing and writing at the same time and that's what i did, but it was poorly LMAO

Um, if you guys really want me to clean it up let me know and i'll post that separately. It won't be super fantastic but i'll go over the main points!

find the companion fic "Boar Brothers" [which is also not finished] here.

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