#I know it was only three times but the sneeze one was wild

[lakrisrot]

The fact that Caleb appears to be more private about his relationship, while Essek is the one who will speak about his boyfriend to anyone, rather than it being the (expected?) other way around… so important to me

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖎𝖛

summary: Sebastian Sallow might be more stubborn than he is curious. (series masterlist)

cw: 3.6k words, light fluff, very suggestive content (18+ ONLY), brief male masturbation, alcohol ment, soooort of dubcon but quickly-established consent, god when will this thing end, probably never, fem reader/oc. requests.

a/n: y'all ever heard of this word, pentalogy? hmm xx laney

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, babbling under her breath like a madman as she yanked a brush through her hair and stared at her tired and bloodshot reflection in the mirror. “Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do anything.” In desperation, she replaced the hairbrush with her wand and pointed it at her head. Nothing happened. She wasn’t sure she had expected anything to.

You know whose hair looked wild, as well? mused a very unwelcome voice inside her head. Sebastian’s, in that dream you had. She considered keeping the wand pointed at her head and igniting it if the voice kept up.

With a groan, she gave up on her appearance altogether and looked over toward her dormitory door. Dread clawed up her throat and her heart beat unnaturally fast as she considered the prospect of going to Hogsmeade with Sebastian, as he’d asked her that morning.

“Come on, I haven’t been in ages.”

“You were there on Tuesday.”

“Not with you,” he crooned, and any pretense of annoyance slipped away from her. “Come on, beautiful day for a stroll.” She felt like a weak little lamb that Sebastian had grabbed ahold of with his wolfish teeth. 

She dangled, pathetic and miserable, from his mouth the entire walk to Hogsmeade. He was still none the wiser to her distress (or he was choosing to ignore it), chatting ad nauseam about the skirmish that had broken out in the Slytherin common room that morning. She didn’t catch a single word. Her hair was still frizzing out at her temples and getting caught in her lips as she walked, and she thought she might explode with frustration if she had to be around him for one more minute.

Dreams were usually a very viscous liquid, draining through her memory the second she woke up and tried to recall any details. So why was this particular one, this particularly Sallow-centric dream, etched so deep into her psyche? In the three days since her subconscious had betrayed her and showed her what a potential animal Sebastian could be in bed, her thoughts had been consumed by little else. She was sure all of her dreams from this point on would feature his naked and sweaty form again, so she was careful to sleep in short, awful bursts that did nothing to rejuvenate her for the following day. Maybe she was just losing her mind.

The slightest motion on his part was sending her into a tizzy. In the library yesterday, a huge waft of dust had hit him in the face when he pulled it off a shelf, and he had sneezed three times in rapid succession and yelled, “GOD!” Madam Scribner had been upon him in an instant with a swift whack to his unkempt head, but all his poor classmate could do was clutch the bottom of her skirt and whimper that she needed to step out for a moment. Everything was like this; a tap on her shoulder to get her attention at dinner, a wistful sigh as he gazed out the window and fantasized about never writing another essay ever again, everything was affecting her body more than it ever had. Her silly crush on Sebastian had snowballed, no, avalanched into something unholy that had her completely at the mercy of its icy grip. 

And she was fairly certain he knew it, too.

Their flirtations and awkward exchanges since the now infamous “towel incident” (Imelda, after overhearing Sebastian and Ominis whispering on the topic, had taken it upon herself to disseminate the rumor among their class that the towel had actually fallen to the ground) had felt harmless until recently. Now, she could swear that he was torturing her on purpose. He pouted when she spent time with anyone other than him and kept saving a plate of dessert for her every day at dinner. Last night, he’d even muttered, “If this makes you any sweeter, I'll start losing my teeth,” in her ear while he passed her a piece of chocolate cake. She’d been so goddamned wet by the time she’d managed to choke down enough to satisfy him that she was done, it was humiliating. 

Sebastian’s pinky brushed against hers, and she jumped out of her skin. “What?!” she shouted, jostled out of her sordid imagination by the very man she was imagining. His eyebrows rose.

“I said, let me hold your hand, it’s cold today,” he ordered, and without waiting for her to acquiesce, he laced his fingers between hers and she thought that might be the end of her. His warm hand dwarfed hers completely, long fingers that she could picture all-too-vividly twisting in and out of her cunt trapping her to his side. It was mid-April, and the sun was beating down on them. Desperate, she searched for anything normal to say.

“Does that line work often, Sallow?” she said, but there was none of the usual fight in her voice. It was deflated, a leaky balloon holding on for dear life to its last bit of air. 

He grinned, his shining canines exposed. “It works when I need it to.” Her stomach flipped. The pent-up energy inside her was making her hands shake, and she prayed he didn’t notice.

They walked, hand-in-hand, the rest of the way to Hogsmeade while Sebastian continued rattling off the professional Quidditch teams he was confident he could coach better than their current managers and she stared at the ground. Every so often, they would come across a piece of moonstone, and she would absently cast at it with her wand. He never dropped her hand. 

Part of her wondered, Why are we doing this dance? Why aren’t we talking about any of this? Why are we bothering? He wants me, I want him! End this! 

The other part of her was as stubborn as Sebastian was.

She was so sick of this. Sick of feeling so stupid and lovelorn and driven to the breaking point by a boy whom, until about a month ago, she’d never thought of in any romantic capacity. No sleep, no peace from her own mind, it was really making her sick.

Something in her spine clicked and made her suddenly stand up straighter. Enough of this. If he was so keen to torture her senseless instead of just admitting that something was happening between them, then maybe she would be, too.

“Ugh, this walk is so long,” she sighed the next time there was a lull in the conversation. Sebastian hummed. “Can’t you just pick me up and fly me there, birdie?”

Ooh, but she’d seen less damage taken when someone got hit in the chest with depulso during dueling club. A delighted little thrill charged through her as she watched him twitch and stammer and squeeze her hand nervously. It was like he knew that she’d moaned the nickname out in the throes of subconscious passion. When he wasn’t able to form any sort of retort, she pressed on, starting to feel giddy.

“Come on, you’ve got these big, strong wings.” She dropped his hand and moved to stand behind him. Sebastian tripped over his own feet, and she placed her hands on his back and slid them up to his shoulders, then down the length of his arms. He was stiff, frozen solid in the middle of the dirt road. A patch of daffodils honked softly to their left. God, she was supposed to be taking back the power in this battle of the sexes, so why were her knees turning to goo as she ran her hands over his arms and lifted them from his sides in a little flapping motion? He was so fucking warm and tall. He’d left his robes back at the castle, so the only thing hiding his frame was his school uniform, the green plaid wrapping around every inch and she wanted nothing more than to tear it away. The unbidden image of him in the towel smirked at her, and she dropped his arms back down. “Let’s just pick up the pace a little,” she said meekly.

Sebastian said something unintelligible and nodded, and they walked the rest of the way to Hogsmeade in complete silence, both of their hands firmly inside their pockets. As they crossed the bridge into the hamlet, the smells and sounds floating towards them made their moods rise quite a bit, and Sebastian was his usual smiling self in no time. A fellow seventh-year waved at them as they passed and informed them that Honeydukes was putting on its end-of-term sale. They tried hard to keep their pace as they made their way to the candy store at a light jog. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian groaned five minutes later around a mouthful of fudge, and she screwed up her face in disgust picking daintily at the small bun she’d opted for. Her stomach hadn’t stopped feeling strange. Especially due to the fact that her friend’s mouth was smeared with white chocolate and peanut butter and she still wanted to kiss it more than she could verbalize. 

As much as she was loath to admit it, the day was wonderful. A bright and clear Saturday afternoon with a boy who seemed determined to keep a smile on her face at all times. They ran through the village, stopping at every store to ogle the window displays and point out what they would get if they had a million galleons. Sebastian would get the newest model of broom that Albie Weekes had just stocked (a surprise to no one), and she decided she would buy every last wand that the old and wizened Mr. Ollivander had to offer. 

Sebastian laughed as she handed him the cloud of pink candy floss they were taking turns tearing chunks off of. “Wands?! Why the hell would you buy a bunch of wands?” She scooted closer to him on the bench they sat on so their legs were touching. 

“More wands means more power, right?” She mimicked casting with several different wands at the same time. “I’d be unstoppable. Ranrok wouldn’t have even come near the witch with six-hundred and fifty wands.” He cackled, his face red when he finally came back up for air. His laugh made him so beautiful.

“God, I love the way your mind works! Oh, to sneak in there for just a day.” You’ve actually made permanent residence there, she thought as she watched him examine the enormous haul he’d bought from Honeydukes. 

Stupid, God, you fucking idiot! “Oh, to sneak in there…” Do you want to just give yourself up?! Shut up, Sallow, and maybe you won’t completely bugger this to hell. 

She wished she could read minds. The Hogsmeade square, which had been bustling during the day, was gradually emptying as the sun began to set. She ran her gaze over the shops and homes that were closing their shutters for the evening. Only the Three Broomsticks seemed to really hop after sundown, witches and wizards pouring in to have a butterbeer poured out after a long day of working. Sebastian was a chatty drunk, even more talkative than he was on the average day. He’d tell any stranger his darkest secrets with little to no hesitation. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Fancy a drink before we head back?”

They went butterbeer for butterbeer, shot of firewhiskey for shot of firewhiskey, until she realized with a sudden jolt that she was teetering on the edge of very drunk, and that she wouldn’t be any good at extracting an admission of longing from him if she couldn’t form a coherent thought. When he raised his next shot glass to his mouth and tilted his head back, she tossed the contents of hers onto the ground and vanished it with a whisper, her wand poking out discreetly from her lap. Sebastian slammed the glass back down on the table and winced, rolling his neck on his shoulders. “Felt that one here,” he said with a slight slur, and pointed at his back molars. 

“Ick, yeah,” she agreed. Time to deploy the not-so-secret weapon. “So, my little birdie,” she began, bumping his leg under the table with her foot. His pretty nose went bright red. Wonderful. She leaned across the table with her arms crossed. Sebastian’s eyes were shamelessly raking across her chest, as if he was hoping to remove the collared shirt covering it with some psychic power. It was sad, really, how easy this was going to be.

The light din from the other patrons in the bar seemed to soften as they stared into each other’s eyes. Firelight shadows cast from the hearth were casting his clear, greeny hazel gaze golden, and she pressed her thighs together, in spite of herself. “Y-yeah?” he asked. She almost felt bad, with how helpless and devoted to her he looked right now. Almost.

“Tell me. Have you made any…romantic conquests lately? Surely, the great and delicious Sebastian Sallow does not intend to graduate without the company of a fair maiden to look forward to.”

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, she knows. But how on earth would she–Christ, I’m drunk–how could she know, I was so careful, well, not really, but–fuck, she’s still talking. Look at her face, her face, you idiot, not her tits. I don’t care if she undoes twenty more buttons, just look at her face. Shit, her face is just as fucking perfect.

“You’re squirming, baby bird! You are after someone–who is it?” She couldn’t have kept the grin off her face if she had tried to. “Come now, tell me!” Sebastian looked like he might vomit. He dug his hands into his hair and whimpered, and she knew she had won. She pulled her stool around the table until their legs were pressed together once more. His head was in his hands, elbows on the table, and he was pressing his lips together like something dangerous would slip out if he didn’t. His usual smug, self-assured demeanor a distant memory, she found herself pressing herself against the chair and circling her hips lightly, desperate for this tension to just end.

“I think I know who it is.” She let her lips brush against his ear while she whispered it, her hand resting on his back as she leaned into him. He went rigid under her touch again.

“M’sorry,” he moaned, still hiding his face from her. 

“Oh, why are you sorry, baby?” she cooed. All posturing was gone. She was practically in his lap as she circled a lock of his chestnut hair in her fingers with absent-minded dexterity. It felt just as it had in the dream, just as soft and tuggable. His hands, not of his own accord, had begun sliding up her thighs. Her cunt practically begged for him, responsive to every one of his touches. He finally managed to look at her, and the mixture of pure lust and shame on his face made her want to push him down and take him right there, in front of all of the Three Broomsticks and God. The alcohol was searing courage into her entire being.

The two friends, although no one who observed them would have used that word to describe the two people groping at each other in a secluded corner of a bar, continued sizing each other up as they considered their next moves. Sebastian grasped at words. “I-I–I did something bad,” he eventually choked out, and she hummed in appreciation. “Awful.”

“And what did you do that was so horrible?” she murmured, fingers still tangled in his hair. He was going to admit it, admit that he’d been just as fucked up by the sight of her half-naked as she had been by him. That the visions and dreams and fantasies hadn’t stopped for even a second since, and that he was desperate to end this teasing and screw her stupid. Hell, she’d even respond in kind if she could just get him to say it first…

“I…” He bit his lip, and she almost came at the sight. She was sure that he could notice her grinding, both on the stool and as much of his leg as she could reasonably position herself against. Maybe courage wasn’t the only thing the alcohol was setting off inside her. But she would have made more of an effort to pull herself together if Sebastian hadn’t been fisting the lap of his trousers for the past twenty minutes, wrestling with an erection that seemed to be striking him dumb. Her hand slid down from his hair and palmed him over his pants, and his mouth dropped into a sweet, little “o” after a silky, “Shit, oh, shit,” leaked from it. 

“Are you too drunk?” she muttered, and he shook his head emphatically and walked his fingers across the table in a straight line with a dazed expression, making her snort. He asked in a hoarse croak if she was, and she shook her head also. His cock was so hard in her hand that she mewled a little as she stroked it, friction from the rough fabric making Seb pant and grit his teeth. She could tell he was big; in fact, he felt just as thick and long as he had when she’d dreamt of him railing her just a few nights ago. The firewhiskey still dancing around her tongue asked her if she shouldn’t tell Sebastian about the dream, right now. He’d probably cum in his pants if he ever knew, she thought with a happy and tipsy little giggle. She stopped giggling when he dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder and whined into it,

“I just, fuck, I want y–”

“Sorry, folks. It’s about that time for last call. Gonna be closing up soon.” Sirona Ryan’s voice carried over to them, and they sprang apart from each other. Their stools rocked backward with the sudden jumps, and they quickly rose to their feet, brushing off their laps like they’d just shared a very average dinner. They did not look at each other as they swept past the bar. With two feeble mumbles of thanks to Sirona, they were back on the street. 

She had done something horrible, she decided, something truly abhorrent in a past life to deserve this brand of torture in this one. Sebastian turned to face her, looking as strung out as she felt. “Look,” he began. Patrons were filing out the pub’s door behind them, paying no attention to the two students standing beside the door. The air had a sharp chill to it now that the sun had set, and she sheepishly wished that he would offer to take her hand now. Sober clarity was wiping the sweet fog of butterbeer away in her mind. It seemed Sebastian was experiencing the same.

“Let me just say this while I can still blame it on being drunk,” he said, although the slur was gone from his voice. He sounded like his old self. Like good, old, sweet, messy, rambling, whip-smart Sebastian Sallow. She watched him lean back against the wall and wondered if she loved him. He looked up at the sky, glittering diamond stars studding the velvet black. “I’ve been, sort of…I guess…I’ve had, well–um…”

“Seb,” she whispered, closing the distance between them until their hands were interlocked and their noses were centimeters apart. They looked in each other’s eyes, then at each other’s lips, then back to the eyes. Time had stopped, and he was going to kiss her, and then they were going to sprint back to the castle and rip each other’s clothes off. His nose bumped hers and he used it to knock her head back, just a bit, so their mouths slotted together and she shut her eyes. It wasn’t kissing, not yet, but it was something soft that fucked with her head just that little bit more. “Just…say it,” she ordered quietly. 

But a level-headed Sebastian wasn’t just less suggestible; a level-headed Sebastian would move heaven and earth to play the devil’s advocate.

She felt his mouth crease into a frown and opened her eyes to see that his brow was low. For a moment, she thought he had no idea what she was talking about and that she’d just made a gigantic fool of herself, but she ought to have given the ever-perverse Slytherin some more credit. “You say it,” he suddenly balked, and pulled his neck away so their lips weren’t touching. 

Indignation had her spluttering in disbelief. “What? No, you say it!”

“I won’t.”

“Sebastian!” She smacked him in the chest with both hands. He didn’t even sway. “Say it! Admit it!” She was so tightly wound, so desperate to have him finally, that her body seemed to be melting in the cool night breeze. “Admit what?” He adopted an air of total nonchalance, putting his hands in his pockets and began to meander up the path that led towards the Hogsmeade entrance as if he had all the time in the world. She watched him walk away for a few leisurely paces before she was following after him. She’d been so fucking close, too close to winning! Damn his tipsiness wearing off and being replaced by the mischievousness he loved to torture her with. 

She snatched the back of his vest to try and force him to look at her, but he kept strolling. “Admit you want me! Just say it!”

“Haven’t the foggiest what you’re referring to, but if you do ever feel like admitting to me that you desire me carnally, I’ll be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the next month, should you need to look me up,” he yawned. 

Sallow, you bull-headed twat. Grab that woman and tell her what an angel she is and take her to bed right this instant!

In my own time, he responded to himself, then he took one last look at the angel in question, who was panting with eyes ablaze. Fuck, he wanted to toy with her like this for the rest of his life. With a crack, the stubborn bastard disapparated.

pt. 5

masterlist

[narwhalsarefalling]

rey i need ya gen fic bnha recs

congratulations, i have a whole ass collection. but here's some faves. A collection of both oneshot and multichap!

Gauntlet Thrown - pikahlua

Pro hero Katsuki Bakugou has deigned to apply for a teaching position at UA, and the lucky bastard who gets to conduct the job interview is none other than Shouta Aizawa.

Second Chances - amarisllis

Aizawa’s heartbeat is pounding against Katsuki’s ear, so loud and fast that it blocks out everything else. Katsuki’s arms flail, unsure what to do now that he’s being hugged by his teacher who’s never really cracked more than a tiny smile in their presence before. Wha— Oh. Oh, oh shit. Aizawa is crying. “Sensei—” “You were dead.” His voice breaks on the last word. Oh. Shit.

candid - OwlF45

The Commission passes a new requirement for hero licenses: pass a mental simulation. For Izuku, a holder of One For All, this idea ends in catastrophe. A series focused on the simulation, and everything that comes after.

Switchblade - Cacid

"I’m only two minutes late!” Izuku protested. Had he missed the start of an important test? None of the national, standardized tests were supposed to happen this month and even being two minutes late to one of those wouldn’t elicit this sort of reaction. They were discussing their career interest forms today, but that was it. Nothing time-critical was supposed to be happening. “Midoriya, you were reported missing a week ago. No one has seen you for eight days. The police have been combing the city for you.” "I’m sorry. What?” Midoriya Izuku went missing for a week and turned up in a back alleyway with skills he's never even heard of and no memory of how he came by them. He resigns himself to never learning the truth of what happened to him, but he shouldn't waste this chance should he? He could become a hero with reflexes like these. (Russian Translation available)

Razzmatazz - xylophones

Izuku has plans for everything. He plans out what to say to the cashier when ordering coffee, he plans out his homework before even opening his textbook. He has a whole ten-year plan for how he’s going to get into UA’s hero course and get his hero license fully quirkless. He plans for every wild, unlikely scenario he can think of because his anxiety gets so bad if he doesn’t go through every possible outcome, every way his life could landslide into disaster–– but Izuku never planned for this. For once, he doesn’t have a plan and he doesn’t have time to think of one. All he can see is Yagi-san’s lined, kind face looking resigned as he stares down the villain in his shop. Yagi-san, who is the closest thing to a father figure Izuku has ever had. Izuku doesn’t think. He just moves. (Or: Izuku saves the number one hero, gets a hero license way earlier than anyone wanted, realizes that maybe hero society isn’t as great as he thought it was, and everything just kind of falls apart from there.)

third couch is the charm - laurenshappenstobemyhusband

Shouto trained for years to control his ice. Encasing everything in ice whenever he sneezed, got angry or startled, or just whenever he wasn't paying attention always got him into trouble, and he's glad he finally has complete control over his right side. Unfortunately, he can't say the same about his flames. OR: Todoroki sets three couches on fire, which apparently is too many, so now he has to take quirk control classes with Kaminari and they bond over mutual destruction

All's Well - Vexfulfolly

Trigger + Katsuki Bakugou = One hell of a precarious situation OR What it's like to be a walking bomb.

El Manisero - Lila17

"that fic where Sero runs a peanut cartel at UA"

see it all in bloom - aloneintherain

Todoroki said, “It feels like a family reunion.” (Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A's ten year reunion.)

and i know these don't REALLY count because they're mine, but here's my OWN gen fics that I had a GREAT time writing

And in the forest, I can be free

His prosthetic leg was covered in stickers. Her hands were stained with marker ink in wonderful multicolor. She could color outside the lines. She could color inside the lines. She could color the skin pink or the hair black or whatever color she wished. She could ignore the lines entirely and just draw whatever she wanted. Chiasaki would have never allowed any of this. She doesn’t freeze or feel that horrible feeling in her chest at the thought of him anymore. Instead she only felt... Something else. It was a warmer feeling, one that settled in her gut. It took a few days of this new feeling to be recognized and named- anger. She wasn’t as afraid anymore, that had grown into anger. How could anything in this so-called “sick” place ever be bad? She admires her color-stained hands, the shoes that were allowed to remain dirty, the softness of fresh mud during a rainstorm under her hands. Sand between her fingers, dust wiped away from glass to reveal a view of the forest. Eri doesn’t care if she’s cursed. She doesn’t care if this entire world is covered in little germs that would make her sick. Eri loves it so much. - A look at Eri and her relationship with cleanliness

Within Rime and Reason

1. He reached up to touch the base of his scar. Somehow, without the red hair framing it, it looked almost like a birthmark. Less of a harsh, angry burn scar and more of a memory. He didn’t look like a man with a tragic past, he looked like a boy. If he wasn’t completely blind in that eye, he would almost believe it was one. “You look so manly,” Kirishima breathes. “No,” Todoroki says with a smile. “I look like my mother. I look womanly.” 2. And suddenly so many pieces of the puzzle drop into place. His eye is unseeing. White pupil. Milky iris. With the skin around it poreless and hairless. Easy to cover up with makeup. Oil-less and unmoisturized. Like a scar. Like a burn. “Todoroki,” Mina says softly. The brush she’s holding drops to her lap. “This isn’t a birthmark I’m covering up, is it?” - Todoroki gets a makeover. Emotional conversations happen.

have fun and enjoy!

[cleolinda]

I am so fucking pissed. We’re hearing forecasts that we might get FIVE FUCKING INCHES OF SNOW overnight from Monday to Tuesday. In ALABAMA, where we have no snow removal equipment. Like I think we got one bag of sand for the whole town. No snow tires, I don’t even know what those are. This isn’t cute “Haha it’s just barely below freezing! Snowball fight!!!” snow. This is 14° Fuck (-11° Come the Fuck On) snow. FIVE INCHES? We get flurries and the city descends into madness.

What if we lose POWER. Everything runs off USB cord stuck in the outlet charging nowadays. This is why everyone used to run out and buy Milk Bread Batteries. Listen. I have this memory of the power going out during this wild snowstorm when I was a kid--I want to say it was Winter Storm '93. Ask anyone who lived in Alabama at the time. Like we had Desert Storm '92 the military operation one year and Winter Storm '93 the next. It was that serious in our minds, and I'm not sure you can blame us:

The storm dumped several inches of snow each hour on Birmingham, which ended up with officially 13 inches of snow.

Due to the high winds some parts of Birmingham reported drifts 5 to 6 feet deep. One state trooper reported that the roads were in the worst shape he had ever seen. "People can't tell what's road and what's not."

Low temperatures during the storm were in the 5-to-10 degree range on that Sunday.

IN A TOWN WHERE WE DON'T KNOW WHAT A SNOW PLOW IS. I think we had one for the entire county. Like I'm only kind of joking here.

And our power went out.

The snow was so heavy that it pulled down power lines either by its own weight, or by the tree branches its weight broke off. Meanwhile, the power at my house already went off every time a squirrel sneezed. I don't how many days this lasted; it was probably like, 2-3 days, but in my head, I was 14 years old boxed up with my family with no heat and it lasted two weeks. Maybe three years. The four of us slept in sleeping bags layered with quilts, huddled on the floor around a wood burning fire. (In the haunted house, no less.) The carpet was really nice, at least. We had a--do people still call them boomboxes? A big portable cassette player--battery-powered--with AM/FM radio. We listened to whatever TV shows were broadcast from the ABC station at night. We did have hot water; I took a lot of hot baths. We cooked food over the outdoor grill (which we moved to the comfortably large area under the deck, to hold off the falling snow), sometimes using aluminum foil as a kind of thin impromptu frying pan, and kept perishables like milk and meat in a cooler. Oh, did we have a bag of ice for the cooler? No, we used snow. God knows there was enough of it. Of course, I'm sure the refrigerator was perfectly serviceable even without power, because it was TEN DEGREES FUCK ALL.

I remember going outside a good bit and playing, as much as a teenager plays, in the snow with my seven-year-old sister. I remember that all the neighborhood kids got big rubber trashcan lids and used them as toboggans, going up to the top of the hill on our street and pretty successfully sledding down. Maybe it was "lmao snowball fight!!" snow when I was 14. I'm 45 now, and the cold makes me hurt. It makes me hurt all over. Maybe Winter Storm '24 will be a fun core memory for my nephew. I am pissed. And also charging all my electronics.

(ETA: It’s ‘24 now, isn’t it. My brain hasn’t clicked the date over yet. What is time.)

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 3: "Bite down on this" (Legend & Time)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury

-----------------------------------------

The more of it that he sees, the more Legend is confident that he really, really hates blood. Sure, he’s a hero, and being exposed to the stuff is part of the job description. And he can deal with it when it's coming out of him, and he has no choice but to do something about it. But a situation like this? He would be completely happy to not experience. 

Yet, here he is. Experiencing it.

Lucky him.

“I-I can handle this, vet,” comes the gravelly voice of the hero he is currently trying not throw up on to save. Time sits shivering against the rock wall, pale as the snow surrounding them. His eye is still sharp as ever, however. Which makes it a bit difficult to send him as heated a glare as Legend wants to.

Not impossible though. Never impossible.

“No, you can’t, old man, and you know it.” 

He chances a glance at the wound, unable to keep from visibly cringing. It’s not every day you see a couple of ice arrows skewered in someone’s tricep. 

“Let me just think for a minute. I’ve gotta figure out how to get these things out.”

“Pull them,” Time says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. This time Legend has no problem glaring at him. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, your arm is frozen,” he snaps, gesturing to the frostbitten flesh visible past the tatters of armor and tunic. “And has been for the better part of the last five minutes.” 

Time looks relatively unperturbed for someone dripping icicles of blood and likely getting more hypothermic by the minute. 

“I’ve dealt with things like this before,” he says, even as Legend practically dives into his pouch, searching for his fire rod. “I know what…what to do. It will only take me a moment.”

Fire rod acquired, Legend sets it aside and grabs for a pocket knife.   

Oh, this is gonna be so pleasant.

Time tilts his head, a knowing look in his eye. “This is making you uncomfortable.”

“Good to know it’s not bothering you.”

“Like I said, I’ve…done this before. Many times. There is n-no need for you to suffer for…for my sake.”

Bandages, fire rod, pocket knife, heart potion, a scrap of sturdy cloth torn from his outer tunic – Legend’s eyes roam over the objects he has placed beside him, checking to ensure he has everything he needs. Yup, time to dive in. 

Yipee. 

“Here.” He folds the cloth in half and hands it to Time. “You’re gonna need something to bite down on.”

“Legend…” There is something vulnerable in Time’s gaze now, vulnerable and almost pleading. “I’ll be alright. Just allow me to – ”

He cuts off, letting out a series of tiny – and frankly, adorable – sneezes. Legend hardly fights back a playful grin. So, he’s not the only one with “bunny sneezes.” Thank the Golden Three.

Oh, he’s gonna tease him about that later.

As Time finishes his sneezing fit, Legend picks up the fire rod. Mentally steeling himself, he moves closer to the affected arm.

“Look, old man, I’m sure you have done this yourself. Countless times. But that doesn’t mean you have to do that now.” 

Time is looking at him out of the corner of his eye and Legend meets his gaze. 

“You’re not alone anymore.”

For a moment, it is quiet. Then, the hero’s shoulders slump defeatedly. With a decisive nod, Legend leans forward.

“Alright, then. Take a deep breath and bite down on that thing. This is gonna hurt and I’d rather you not, you know, bite off your tongue or alert every monster in the vicinity of our location.”

Or causing an avalanche, he thinks, drily. Wild’s Hyrule is almost as bad as Rulie’s. Anything can happen here. Especially when you factor in miserable, below-zero temperatures. 

If he hadn’t found the outcropping they are sheltering under now, he is certain they would’ve frozen to death from the wind alone. 

Time sighs. But he obediently sets the cloth between his teeth. Legend ignites the rod. 

“Ready?”

Time tenses, obviously steeling himself. He nods once, determined and resigned. 

Gritting his teeth against the rising tide of nausea, Legend begins. 

It’s difficult melting away the ice without scalding Time’s skin, especially with how violently the older hero is shivering. His fingers aren’t the steadiest right now either. More than once he hears Time inhale sharply as flames meet tender, abused skin. But for the most part, he is silent, save for his stuttering breaths. 

Then, once the ice is thawed, the worst part comes.

Legend moves the rod to a one-handed grin to keep the ravenous ice at bay. In the other, he grasps his pocket knife. In two swift strokes, he slices the arrows in half. 

Now, a low groan makes its way out between Time’s tightly closed lips. Legend tries his best to ignore it. It’s nothing compared to what is coming, he’s certain.

“I’m gonna pull these out now,” he says, a frigid arrowhead already in hand. He can only pray that the rod was enough to melt any internal ice. If not, then this is going to hurt far worse than it would otherwise.

Time nods again. And Legend wastes no more time. With a deep breath, he pulls. 

The first one comes free with little resistance, wood slipping free from bloodied, frostbitten skin. Time tenses further as though struggling against the cries he undoubtedly wants to let loose. A low whine is the only thing that makes it out of him. 

The second one, however, is stubborn. It is more eager about its ice production, actively fighting the attempts of Legend’s fire rod. No doubt, the very blood in Time’s veins is crystallizing, becoming more frozen by the second. An excruciating experience to be sure. The fact that the old man hasn’t begun screaming yet is either admirable or disturbing. Right now? Legend feels a bit of both.

He brings the rod closer, slowly coaxing the arrow forward with the other hand. This time an audible cry comes from Time, shattering the eerie near-quiet of their little hideout. Legend winces.

“Sorry,” he grits out, voice sharp with worry. 

He pulls a little harder. The arrow slides a little farther. And Time’s fingers fist in the cloth of his tunic, knuckles whiter even than his frigid flesh. A tear trickles from beneath his closed eyelid and slithers down his cheek.

More ice melts away, showcasing blue-black skin beneath. Bile rises in Legend’s throat at the sight. But he drags more of the arrow out. It is nearly free now. 

“Almost there,” he promises, steeling himself for the final stretch. Time’s only response is a muffled scream when he yanks the projectile free. 

With a sigh of relief, Legend hurls the thing away, wincing at the ache in his hands. More than likely, he has frostbite now. 

Oh, joy.

But he doesn’t allow himself a moment to gaze at his swollen fingers. Setting the fire rod aside, he places a potion in Time’s trembling hand.

“Here, drink,” he orders, already reaching for the bandages. The bleeding is faster now that it’s no longer impaired by ice. He’d rather like to put a stop to it before Time loses too much.

As he weaves the strips of gauze around him, Time knocks back half of the potion. Then, he offers the bottle to Legend.

“Oh no.” Legend shoves it back at the older hero, shaking his head. “You need all of that. I don’t want to see your arm rot off.”

“And I don’t want to see the same happen to your fingers,” Time croaks. “You have helped me and I’m thankful for it. But you cannot afford to remain in this condition.” 

Legend looks from him to the bottle and back again. Then, slowly, he glances down at his hands. They are the same angry shades of blacks and purples and blues as Time’s arm. And though adrenaline had saved him from feeling the worst of it, he certainly feels them now. The ache has grown into a pulsing, tingling burn. 

He sighs. As much as he wants to argue, Time has a point. 

“Fine,” he grumbles and snatches the bottle away.

The bittersweetness of the potion is pungent and almost nauseating. But as soon as it has begun to heal him, he feels a wave of sweet relief. He hadn’t realized just how much pain he was in. And though this amount can’t soothe all of his wounds, it makes an awfully good effort.

He places the empty bottle back into his pouch, following it with the fire rod and remaining bandages. Then, he scoots over to Time, shoulder bumping against the older hero’s.

Soon, they will have to rise and walk, looking for the path that Wild had mentioned leading down the mountain. But for now, he thinks they are allowed just a little rest.

That ordeal has left him exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Time rumbles, his voice gentle. 

Legend huffs a laugh. “I’m living. You?”

Time chuckles and lets his head fall back against the wall. He is still much too pale for Legend’s liking and exhaustion drags at his features. Tear streaks gleam on his ashen skin. 

“Living,” he murmurs, “thanks to you.”

He places his uninjured arm around Legend’s shoulders and pulls him close. And for once, the veteran allows himself to lean in. After all, a little warmth is welcome in a place like this. And if he finds comfort in the at last steady rhythm of Time’s breathing, well, that’s just a bonus.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Blupee Blood

Rating: T

Warnings: physical restraint, lots of panic, and excessive descriptions of a needle/pseudo medical procedure.

Word count: 2300

Summary: Inadvertently transformed into a bunny, Legend is kidnapped by a gang of Yiga who are looking for blupee blood. Legend knows that they have the wrong bunny, but the Yiga are determined to have their prize one way or another.

Notes:

Adjacent to Overcome, just a bonus story because I don't want to fit this into the main timeline.

As always with my Bunleg fics, please don't think about the semantics too much.

AO3

Please show your support with a reblog! Likes do nothing.

Legend could feel eyes on him as he walked away from their camp. Four’s quiet worry, Warriors’ underlying protectiveness, Hyrule’s curiosity. The constant attention was exactly why he had suddenly announced that he was going on a quick walk for some fresh air, no need to accompany him. Wild had sworn that there were no monsters around, so Legend didn’t bother to grab any weapons other than his fist ring and an ice rod.

The ambient bustle and chatter of camp quickly faded, replaced with buzzing insects and tall grass rustling in the breeze. Legend closed his eyes, walking aimlessly and breathing in the crisp air. This was what they were fighting for. A peaceful kingdom, untouched by evil.

Evil, of course, chose that moment to touch Legend.

An unexpected misstep brought Legend’s boot to a sticky, miasmic substance that, as he gasped and looked down at it, sent red tendrils to climb and cling. They darted up and around his boots, reaching his knees in a matter of seconds. It burned on contact with bare skin, but he had no time to react before he fell to the ground, catching himself with-

Paws. Pink, furry bunny paws.

Legend wanted to scream.

So he did, though it was more of an embarrassingly high shriek. It wasn’t like there was anybody around to hear him, so he did it again for good measure.

Just how had it not crossed the champion’s mind to warn them about random puddles of sinister gunk? If Legend had known, he would have brought his moon pearl but just this once, he had considered himself safe to leave most of his gear behind for a simple walk.

Whiskers twitching as he grumbled murderous thoughts, Legend turned tail and began to hop back in the direction of camp. Only a few hops later, he was stopped in his tracks by an explosion of hanafuda.

A gloved hand grabbed the scruff of Legend’s neck, hoisting him up to come face-to-face with a white mask bearing an upside-down symbol of the Sheikah. The wearer of the mask was tall and lanky, wearing a red skintight bodysuit and flanked by two seemingly identical individuals.

Legend glared and ground his teeth. Just act like a normal rabbit and they’ll let you go, no harm done. There’s no way you can fight one of them like this, let alone three.

“Is that really a blupee?” one of them asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought it would be more… blue.”

Another elbowed him. “It’s a magic bunny, idiot, you think they can’t come in more colors?”

Legend showed no signs of understanding their banter. Not a magic bunny, just a normal one, now let me go.

“Both of you shut up,” the one holding Legend snapped. “If this is a blupee, the color of its fur won’t matter. It’s the inside that counts.”

“Yeah!” the first one nodded along. “Blupee blood… rumored to be one of the most magically potent liquids in Hyrule! Imagine what Master Kohga could do with a store of the stuff!”

“Glory to Master Kohga,” the three intoned in unison.

That was a bit concerning. Legend prepared himself to slip free and bolt away the instant one of them raised their weapon. There was only one way these goons could harvest his blood, he thought, very much aware of the vicious-looking sickles on their backs.

His kidnappers gave no warning before teleporting, the peaceful field vanishing in the blink of an eye. Legend sneezed as a fluttering paper brushed his nose, then observed his new surroundings.

They were in a cave now, cool and damp with moss-covered walls and lit by a few luminescent plants. A simple wooden table and stools were shoved against a curved wall. A crude bamboo cage sat, empty, on top of a crate in a corner of the cave. Drawings and diagrams of rabbits and recipes decorated the walls.

Nice and homey, Legend thought. Hopefully this isn’t too far from where I was… Wild’s era is so massive, I could escape and never find the others.

It wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to escape now, though. Who knew how many tunnels connected to this room? Legend couldn’t even see a hint of sunlight coming from the entrance.

“You, get the stuff ready,” the not-Sheikah holding Legend ordered. “I’ll need help holding it down-”

Absolutely not. Legend drew the line there, not giving them the chance to draw their sickle before he twisted and bit down on fingers that were only protected by a single layer of fabric. The goon shouted in pain and surprise, fumbling Legend and dropping him. The pink bunny sprinted away, weaving around feet and slipping on wet moss. He was once again thwarted by a shower of hanafuda and two pairs of hands finding purchase on his body.

“You’re as slippery as a banana peel, I’ll give you that!” one of them exclaimed. Legend had lost track of who was who but he supposed that it didn’t matter at this point.

“We’re not even going to kill you!” the other added. “You should consider yourself lucky that you’re a goldmine of magic. Yes, we’ll keep you alive for as long as we can use you, don’t you worry.”

Legend tilted his head to the side, confused. He hadn’t expected them to have actually thought this through. Not that he trusted those sickles for a second. A careless slash could still injure him badly enough to bleed out in minutes.

They carried Legend back to the table, firm hands keeping his head and legs in place. His attempts to kick, twist and bite were easily quashed. The realization that he might not be able to escape set in, along with a looming sense of panic. He had forgotten how his rabbit form intensified fear; his heartbeat increased to an unnaturally fast staccato and his senses were more oversensitive than ever.

The not-Sheikah arranged Legend on the table, keeping him restrained with pressure on his head, back, and legs.

“Hold it still. I don’t want the needle coming out just because you can’t handle a ‘slippery banana peel.’”

Legend skipped a breath, a heartbeat.

He had to have heard that wrong, there was no way-

He managed to turn his head enough to see the third kidnapper, and everything came crashing down.

In one hand, the not-Sheikah held a few small glass vials, empty and waiting for so-called blupee blood.

In the other, an empty syringe with a very long needle on the end.

With a surge of desperate strength, Legend squirmed but the hands only tightened around him. He didn’t have time to weigh the pros and cons; his mouth opened and a frantic stream of words tumbled out.

“Wait, WAIT! I’m not a blupee- I’m not even a magical rabbit at all! You won’t gain anything from my blood!”

The dangerous one paused, peering at Legend through his expressionless mask. “You talk?!”

“Yes, yes- I can talk, and blupees can’t talk, so you can tell that I’m not a blupee after all. Now this is all a big misunderstanding and you can let me go now-”

All three of them started to laugh, and Legend’s heart dropped.

“Let you go? After you just gave away the fact that you can talk? You may not be a blupee, but you have to be a magical bunny of some kind. We’ll find a use for your blood one way or another.” With that, he disappeared from Legend’s line of sight. Legend heard him set the vials near his hind leg, and resumed his futile thrashing.

“No- no- I’m not magical- you don’t have to do this- leave me alone- just let me GO!” Legend wailed, nails digging into the table as he scrabbled for purchase in the wood.

His head was pressed down, his jaw aching as it met the hard surface, limiting his mouth to simple vocalizations.

He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t move-

The not-Sheikah, none too gently, pushed the needle through to Legend’s bloodstream, and all he could do was scream.

Small and helpless and restrained and terrified and screaming-

It was too familiar, too real.

It lasted longer, this time.

Long enough that he almost lost his voice, only the need to express his pain and fear giving him the strength to gulp a desperate breath before continuing.

The not-Sheikah had to reposition the needle a few times, adding an extra layer of horror to the fact that he was leaving it inside for too long as he drew Legend’s blood. Legend tried to pull free, instantly regretting it as he felt the needle scrape inside his leg.

“Quit that,” one of the goons snapped.

Legend whined; it wasn’t like he was willing to try that again.

Eventually he grew lightheaded, gasping for air in between raspy cries. How much blood were they going to take?

“Don’t let go. I’ll open the cage.”

Legend whimpered as the needle was finally removed and set aside. Black spots danced in his vision when he was tossed into the cage, the jarring impact causing him to pass out from exhaustion and pain.

He was roused sometime later by the sound of panic and the smell of lightning. He winced, curling protectively around his leg. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone…

The not-Sheikah were yelling. They were so loud.

“Get out of here! This is our hideout and we’re not letting you have it! We’ve got important research in here and-”

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Either leave now, or this cave will be your grave.”

That… that wasn’t a goon’s voice.

Legend blinked his eyes open, he didn’t dare hope-

The entirety of his view beyond the cage was curtained with royal blue. A familiar scarf, Warriors’ scarf, that Legend would’ve sobbed to see if he had been physically capable of it. Legend couldn’t know if Warriors had even noticed him, and the captain kept his back to him as he presumably stared down the not-Sheikah.

Legend heard the telltale poof of smoke and paper, and saw Warriors visibly relax before taking a step away. Legend yelped and hit the bars of the cage with his paw, and Warriors froze. The captain whirled around, sword still drawn and ready for battle, and Legend cowered as Warriors took a few seconds to register that the threat was simply a bunny. No further recognition appeared in Warriors’ eyes, and Legend was suddenly reminded that he didn’t know.

…Maybe he wouldn’t have to.

Legend stayed silent, scratching at the cage again. Warriors sighed and picked at the lock, calling over his shoulder.

“They’ve got a rabbit in here. No sign of Lege, though…”

A deeper voice answered inquisitively, “A rabbit?”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Yes, though I’ve never seen a pink rabbit before. We can release it outside, it doesn’t deserve to go through whatever those idiots were doing to it.” Warriors pulled Legend out of the cage, gently cradling him to his chest. He turned to his companion, whose eyes widened when he saw Legend.

It was Sky. Of course it was Sky. Legend had been humiliated enough, couldn’t he at least shift back in private, where Warriors would be clueless to the fact that he was a coward and a bunny? He bared his teeth at Sky, hoping to relay that now was not a good time.

The birdbrain, unfortunately, did not receive the message. “Um, Wars? That’s… not just a bunny.”

Warriors stiffened, grip tightening around Legend. “What do you mean? Is it another disguised assassin?”

“No, no, he’s- here, let me help.” Sky held the Master Sword out, ignoring Legend’s squirming as he pressed the flat of the blade to a pink paw.

Warriors was unprepared for Legend’s sudden shift to his Hylian form, and the vet slipped out of his hold. Legend crumpled to the ground, biting back a cry of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain up his aching legs. He sat between the other heroes, head bowed and ears down, unwilling to face either of them.

“…Lege?”

Legend opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a broken whimper.

Sky was there, offering Legend a hug that he was too tired to refuse. The vet pressed his face into Sky’s shoulder to hide rising tears, feeling the velvety sailcloth wrapped around him.

“Lege, what happened? We didn’t expect them to be proficient enough with magic to turn you into a rabbit, how-?” Warriors was asking too many questions, focusing on all of the wrong things.

“T-table,” Legend gasped, and Sky repeated it more clearly. Warriors was quiet for a moment, turning back to examine the table that Legend had been pinned on earlier.

“Is this… blood?” Warriors asked, dangerously quiet.

Legend burrowed deeper into Sky’s sailcloth, not bothering to confirm what Warriors already knew.

“Yours?”

Legend whimpered, unable to stop it from turning into a sob. Sky stiffened around him and protectively pulled the sailcloth tighter.

“Sky,” Warriors said, voice shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. “Get him out of here.”

Legend felt Sky nod and shift his arms to support him as he stood. Sky sounded short of breath almost immediately, but he determinedly carried Legend out of the cave.

The click and ignition of Warriors’ borrowed fire rod echoed through the tunnel as Sky’s boots met the transition of dirt to grass. Tears stained the sailcloth, a mixture of sunlight and relief and exhaustion overwhelming Legend all at once. He was still crying when they reached camp, and his brothers rushed to offer potions and sugar and blankets.

Warriors returned soon after, the smell of burnt paper clinging to his scarf as he draped it over Legend’s shoulders. Legend buried his hands in the fabric, grateful for Warriors’ close presence and Sky’s comforting hold.

He was surrounded by his brothers, who wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Finally, Legend felt protected and safe.

[fuckentoastybitch]

TOXIC_RAP.mp3

All the bros have had a go on this flow

So I thought, no, it's my turn

I'm gonna give someone a chance to strike a pose

On this beat like Jojo's

God only knows when this beat feels right

Oh, but it still goes hype when played at night

And now I could cut the tension with a knife

Bottle of absinthe on the shelf

Take a sip. Or twelve

Slip into alcoholic dove and fill the slick and shit

Let's drink till our blood levels turn toxic

Bust out the Bacardi and rum

Drink shots to the sound of a starting gun

Slam drinks back a little hardy and run

What bar should we start at for fun?

So here we are, back again

Will this guy put down his pen?

I have a phone. It's terminology

2023, we have the technology with the new LP

Us boys are all running free

Who the fuck are we meant to be?

A man who's on a legacy?

So I'll make this easy

Nice and speedy

No drinks here with antifreeze

No drinks to sneeze at

Only squeeze in my glass, please

Till I feel queasy

Shot, shot, shot, shot

Cans and bottles, that's your lot

Drink till you lost the plot. Brain rot

Drink till the fives out of ten look hot

Give her the sex, don't call me a miser

She drinks apple cider, came inside her (note: FUCKING WILD)

Back in the room making noise

For gangs of people who enjoys

Acting like tough men, one of the boys

Whilst packing heat at the treat like toys

Arrive on the scene with my team

Looking mean

stacks of green

Feeling preen

We careen to the bar

Smooth like a dream

Dressed up smarter, cash pro rata

Back to the tinnies, crack her lager

Make some bread, not stored in a larder

Spend on brands, devil wears Prada

Committing sins, corporate greed

Take lunch money, mouse to feed

Pop a lock, finally freed

Fuck the lager, grab the mead

Downing honey, busy bees

Send that bottle, what a breeze

Twenty percent proof I'm on my knees

I think I'll try another bottle of that, please

So give me the vodka, that's not what I meant

But a label says that it's forty percent

Would've drank that until the same gents

Started kissing threes whilst pitching a tent

So moving on

Brandy next

Had two shots for the flex

Already looking round for the next

Throw that money, bounce some checks

Cards maxed out, I'm resigned

So let's see what other drinks can I find

Hey there, babe, if you're inclined

Buy me a drink if you don't mind

Rap to the beat on the edge

You see I'm making a splash like Latino heat

So lie, cheat, steal, for real

Grabbing snacks for the main meal

Hidden agenda, big reveal

Cost quite dear and I don't mean veal

Take my chances on my own

Life switched on, not monochrome

We'll take one more for monotone

One last drink before crawling home

Sorry if this topic's over the line

But I like to sit down and write some time

Take some notes

Filling some blanket back with a nice little hobby of mine

After party, rinse and repeat

Wobble around as I find my feet

Party spills onto the street

Now where the hell did I leave my seat?

[Interlude]

Search continues

Bottles fizz

It's around here somewhere

Oh there it is!

Back into it while the beat still goes

Why is it silent?

God only knows!

This song keeps you on your toes

I (should?) see the rapping to the pros

I'm going to woo with flair.

Rick, get me in there

DJ Eric, Eric, death stare

Never mind I don't care

Glare at the back of my head

Wishing the beat was dead

I'm going to invite another guy

Instead of the shit Brit with wit

Looking round for street cred

So hello. Hi.

I'm the one whose lexicon is next to none

Because I'm sitting in a quiet corner

Bouncing off the walls like Yak and Warner

From episode one on TV screens

Across the West and scream dad jokes loud from the chest

The only one in the smoking section

Using a party blow that he kept inside his vest

Objectives announced the fleece

Will this nonsense ever cease?

Feeling relief on the brand new release

Making a move so I'm off now, peace

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

sorry but frankie being the ONLY ONE at monster high who thinks cleo is Cool will never not be my fav headcanon

cleo LOOKS like she's the popular one-

the attitude! the presence! the outfit! the ambition! the kind heart and the CONFIDENCE!! But Canonically Speaking-

frankie's the one made from various famous monsters, hanging with the ghoul kids in school. THEY'RE the one crushing hard on the local organization nerd ("self-proclaimed party princess"),

cleo, miss Number One human enthusiast, who means well but isn't always the best at reading the mood or focusing on priorities

(all of werewolf weekend) (also "clawed and clawdeen?? thank ra my parents didn't name me nefra-een! ugh~!" smiles, realizes no one else is smiling, "...right not the time cleo.")

she WANTS more fame, but mainly spends her time setting up school events, talking with her scarabs, and is starting to tag along with the popular group sometimes

result is THIS

So whatever her song says, i headcanon the vibe in school is more like....

Random Monster High Student:

Oh Cleo? Nefera's little sister, the one who always plays a tree in school plays?

Yeah, she has the funniest, most TRAGIC picture in the fearbook- I hear she has to make herself sneeze all over again whenever she wants to get something at the Coffinbean!

She's head of the dance committee, right? They did a "human themed" dance night once, because of her. And didn't she also organize the after-pep-rally eyescream this year? I think I remember her asking me what flavor I wanted...

Her friends? Um well, she's got these scarabs that are kinds cute. She tags along with Clawdeen Wolf and Draculaura sometimes, but I'm pretty sure she wasn't at that wild Nightmore party the crew had at one of Drac's mansions.

Other than that...

Oh oh wait!

I've seen pics of her hanging out with Frankie, though!

You know Frankie Stein- tall, goes by they/them, wears pretty much nothing BUT school memorabilia, falls apart a lot

I think they built a robot instead of turning in a paper one time, and blank out when remembering something from one of their famous brain bits?

They've got like, bits from almost any amazing monster you could name in the last half century! Monster models, Scareisian monsters, ballet dancers, monster scientists, lawyers. Even a bit from a king of Goreway! They're pretty clumsy but I mean, they HAVE only been alive for less than a year...

They dorm with Drac and Clawdeen- those three are pretty much always a trio, except for fearleading practice and theater stuff.

And yeah, I guess I see them with Cleo pretty often. Frankie, that is.

They sit with her at the creepateria a lot!

Huh. The brilliant franken monster and the second-in-line, dramatic, wanna be queen... I mean, don't get me wrong, Cleo's really nice! And her outfit is AMAZING... Just... I wonder what they even have to talk about...?

meanwhile, Frankie, @ Cleo:

actual canon dialogue: "Any party you're in charge of is sure to be zaptacular! You're so good at parties, and planning things, and picking things, and ah... (flustered) ..making things nicer, and..."

cleo-> decides to sneak into the family tomb. frankie -> PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME PICK M-

also frankie: laughs way too long at cleo's lame pun, tells it it's a good one anyway

also also frankie: goes to cleo for help looking good in their fearbook picture, even though cleo's last photo was a disaster and is the whole reason frankie got nervous about theirs

also also also frankie: "Anything for you, Cleo!"

also also also also frankie, after cleo holds their face and compliments them:

Me: what do they talk about? well mostly frankie just flits with her and is smitten and stuff XD

[f1-disaster-bi]

Teen tiny child Lando with the big dragons? Maybe skipping school? 🥹🫶🏼❤️

It was easy to slip away.

Their tutor had been focused on George. Their attention completely taken up with his questions and finding the answers in dusty old scrolls that always made Lando feel the urge to sneeze.

George had been focused in that way he got sometimes where he didn't notice anything around him and it let Lando escape.

It helped that Lando was small. He might be twelve, but unlike George, Lando wasn't a lanky child. He had always been small, always been fretted over by his parents who told him he was born sickly and that's why he had had to live by the sea for song long. He had always hated that George was taller than him but since coming here to study with his cousin, Lando had learned that his height allowed him to slip away.

He had easily disappeared between book shelves while having been sent to fetch a scroll, and then he was gone. His footsteps light as he crept through the passages he had found that had been old servant passage ways. He ignored the spiders and the other bugs because he knew where he was going and it seemed like it took only moments until he was slipping through a small opening.

A disgruntled huff greeted him as Vesper spotted him first. Her eyes narrowed, focused on him but she simply flicked her tail towards him and did nothing more.

Lando just grinned at his cousin's dragon. She was still considered very young, having hatched the day George was born. It was hard ro believe she was only fourteen with how big she was, but she was beautiful. All deep greens and looking every bit as royal as a dragon could.

"Hey Vespie", Lando smiled and offered her a hand when she dipped her head down. Her scales were smooth and welcoming as Lando petted her snout, "I know I'm being bad, but don't tell George, yeah?"

Smoke curled over him in an answer, making him cough a little before Vesper was moving away and Lando moved deeper into the pit.

He know he shouldn't be here, especially not without an escort. He'd heard all the horror stories bout curious children and hungry dragons but it was the only place in the castle grounds that Lando felt at home.

Lando didn't have a dragon, but he had this as he moved towards Cordelia, the smallest of the dragons here and only visiting at the moment as George's parents worked out some issues about the wild folk with the Strolls.

Cordelia reminded Lando of her rider. Lance had always been a shy, relaxed kid. Happy to play with Lando with wooden swords or listen to George ramble about something he learned. He was great for finding nap spots, just like Cordelia who opened an eye to look at Lando.

The dragon didn't make a sound, just lifted her wing to show Lando what he had been looking for.

His egg.

"Thanks Delia", Lando smiled, rubbing a gentle hand down her neck and laughing at the little almost purring sound the young dragon made before he sat down and carefully lifted the egg into his lap.

His dragon egg had never hatched.

It might never hatched, they had told him recently because no egg had gone this long unhatched. It was unusual for a dragon borns egg to not hatch by the time they were at least three. Most hatched like Georges, on the day their rider was born or a few days after.

No one could answer why his hadn't yet but Lando didn't care as he ran a hand iridescent blue and green scaled surface softly.

"You'll hatch when you're ready, yeah?"

Judging by the tail that gently wrapped around his ankle, Cordelia thought so too.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

oh

OH

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

What the shit is everhood

(Info dump pls?)

Gladly! ^w^

so everhood is a game that I would say is very similar to undertale, from the pixel art style to the humour to the general uhh theme? i guess is the word? Where you play as a wooden puppet named red on a quest to get your arm back from gold pig. The battle mechanic is a rhythm based system where you have to jump around and over beats the enemies through at you. The music is absolutely fucking fantastic and i actually bought the soundtrack i like it so much lol

a couple battles get absolutely insane with the visuals too, to the point im not even totally sure i can do a description justice? you can check out this video if you're curious, theres really no spoilers in this battle but it shows what im talking about. these battles are where the photosensitivity warning really comes in though, so be cautious if that effects you

I can't go too deep into the plot without getting into spoiler territory, so i'll put that under the cut for anyone who's curious, but here's what I can say! You go around collecting clues to find gold pig and get your arm back, and along the way you get to meet all the wonderful characters that populate Everhood. Like Rasta beast, Noseferatchu the sneezing vampire, Flan and Muck, the dancing mushrooms, a vampire who's name always changes. You really get to know and love these characters while also learning that maybe everything isn't as it seems in Everhood. Maybe, actually nothing is what it seems. Maybe you're the only one willing to do something about. But..... are you willing?

oh also kermit is there and I think he might be god? Also you can kill him and it impacts literally nothing

Full plot summary under the cut. I highly recommend you play the game without spoilers, but if you're like me and you Need to know what happens before you play then go wild. I'll only be talking about the intended good ending though, since I haven't gotten around to playing the secret endings yet- oh also mild spoilers for undertale i guess if youre worried about that in 2023

so when I say its similar to undertale in themes, its sort of. in a reverse sense. In undertale the good ending is the pacifist route. By saving the monsters you help them escape the underground and better their situation. It is mercy, the direct functional opposite of killing, that saves you. There is no mercy kill because using mercy ends the fight period.

Well in Everhood, the good ending requires you to kill everyone.

Your arm was taken from you because you've done this before, wiped out countless lives, friends even. And now you must finish the job. Its hard and sad and it sucks but it has to be you because no one else is going to. It falls on you to go back to these spots you've been through already, these happy cheerful locations, and hunt down everyone you've come to know over the course of the game.

so why do you need to kill everyone? and how on earth is it similar to undertale at all? well, Everhood isn't just the title of the game or the location it takes place, its the state every single character in the game is stuck in.

in the distant past, humanity found a way to reach another world, one they called Everhood. And in this world, no one could ever die. Some people chose to stay in this world, which lost connection to the human world for some reason i dont remember rn, and in doing so slowly lost their humanity. They lived for eons and eons and eons, changing their shape and loosing themselves in the process. You discover at one point that the Green Mage, a chaotic character whom I love, has been keeping track of the years everyone has spent in Everhood, every year a tally on the wall of their secret playroom. It takes three hours to get to the end of this hallway, to give you an idea of scale here. three real time hours.

Your character, Red, is a vessel for the literal human player behind the screen to free the inhabitants of Everhood from eternity. They aren't really happy. They can't be. They've been stuck for so long, and even though they beg and plead for you not to kill them you have to. Its the only way for them to be happy and move on from Everhood. And don't get me wrong you CAN choose not to go through with it. You have to actively fight back after this reveal to kill anyone. I haven't played through this way, so I can't speak on it.

The ending is sort of ambiguous, in which Pink (the person pretending to be Red and letting you the player control them) goes to an afterlife after killing everyone and gets to see them one last time, and they're happy. They forgive you. One by one you talk to them and they thank you for freeing them, apologize for fighting you, and move on happily to whatever comes after death. I choose to interpret it literally, but there's something to be said about the idea it's all in Pink's head. I don't think it was meant to be taken that way, but its one way to look at it.

The game sort of looses people with this being the good ending. But I think it's a beautiful metaphor. Sometimes you keep doing things that hurt you only because you're used to it. Maybe you don't even realize how its hurting you, its better than the alternative right? For the longest time I kept my bedroom blinds perpetually closed because the bright sunlight gave me headaches. I didn't realize just how depressed it was making me to be in near constant darkness like that. It was only after I bought a plant on a whim that I realized how much happier I was letting in the sunlight. You get so used to bad habits and awful jobs and clothes you hate because they're familiar. And doesn't it just seem easier? To take non-action and let everyone keep living and having fun in Everhood? Green Mage hosts DnD every week (or whatever counts as a week after you've lived for eternity), go play with the mushrooms in the forest, doesn't that sound lovely? You don't have to kill anyone, just keep living on exactly as you were! You have friends here Red! It hurts too much to kill them! they don't want to die! why not just give up? How could anything good come from the pain of change?

[bigsnzstanacct]

Need to do a list of the OC fics I want to write soon too, to go with my fandom list BUT I have to tell you all about this Cinderella story I want to write which is basically: Cinderella and Prince are both big loud lusty sneezers and maybe fetishists who knows probably. They meet, sneezing, in the square, Cinderella is hurried off by her stepmother before Prince can ask her name… fast forward to there’s a ball. The fairy godmother (who I think will lampshade the whole thing and argue with the author of the story) sets the condition that Cindy can only stay at the ball until she sneezes ten times, whereupon on her tenth sneeze her finery will be blown apart by her mighty sneeze, and her fine carriage blown away.

So, first night of the ball, all goes well except lots of holdbacks from Cindy, Prince engages her more the more she sneezes, she runs away after sneeze number 9, big dramatic sneeze 10, end of night one. Night two, much the same, maybe with some fetish talk, maybe with the Prince chasing her, spotting The Big Tenth Sneeze and he’s bowled over with the magical force, caught in a sneezing fit by the ensuing dust, and loses her. Night three, her wicked stepmother figures out what’s up and brews a magic perfume for the step sisters to wear that will magically enhance the size and force of Cindy’s sneezes. So you get the gist, by sneeze 10 between the good magic from the fairy godmother and the bad magic from the wicked stepsister, Cindy’s blowing the house down. (And don’t forget she’s trying to hold back the whole time bc she more she sneezes the less time she gets to spend with Prince.) So then finally, Prince does the whole glass slipper house to house bit (I imagine in this case it’ll be more like a magic hankie that only Cindy can rip with the almighty force of her sneezes. Maybe Prince shares this trait idk.) Anyway happily ever after except also they somehow interact with the giant sneeze potion perfume again and more giant!sneezes ensue. Mostly I want to write something female sneeze centric, since I haven’t written anything girl sneeze focused that’s actually long and not just an image post in like a decade, which is wild. What do y’all think?

[minty-mumbles]

One Word

A compilation of the ask game I played last night. People sent me a one word prompt, and I wrote a three sentence fic based on the word. It was really fun, so I think I'll definitely do it again sometime!

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Cake 

Wild has never experienced love in their short memory, but they think this might be what love feels like.

"I know the cooks in the castle are really good, Wild, but it is only cake,"  Warriors says, looking slightly concerned about the adoring look in Wild's eyes as he stares at the slice of cake he'd just taken a bite out of.

"It's not only cake, and you need to escort me to the kitchens right now so I can interrogate the chefs about this recipe," Wild said, griping Warriors' arm tightly, and dragging the reluctant captain away.

Reppel

Legend sighed, not daring to look down, and cursed the fact that this cliff was between them and the town they needed to get to. All his muscles were shaking, and his heart pounded as he repelled down the cliff face towards the rest of the group waiting for him at the bottom.

He couldn't let the other heroes know or they would never let him live down the fact that he- the veteran, the one with the most experience, who has faced countless terrifying monsters- was scared of heights.

Scarlet

There was very little color in Hyrule's era, especially when compared to eras such as Wild's, which was bursting with colorful animals and wildflowers in every hue available.

The color he was intimately familiar with, though, was the bright scarlet of blood.

It had always been a bad sign to see that familiar red, but after he realized what exactly the monsters hunting him wanted his blood for, his dislike of the color quickly turned into revulsion.

Knitted

The knitted sweater was a garish shade of green, with yellow yarn- which clashed with the green- forming shaky decorations around its cuffs and collar.

It was a truly hideous thing, but it would certainly explain what Wind had been working on over the last few weeks which he had refused to allow Warriors to see.

"I love it, Wind, thank you."

Survivor

They were all survivors, everyone one of them. He looked around the camp, taking in the friendly chatter and happy ambiance, and he desperately wished that they could have this experience while not on a deadly quest that could go sour at any moment.

They were all survivors, but he wished they didn't have to be.

Sneeze

"Achoo!"

Legend didn't say anything, letting Hyrule keep his pride, but internally, he melted at the adorable sound. Who knew the traveler would have such a cute-sounding sneeze?

Puppy

"Awwww, such a cute puppy," Wild coos. He snickered internally at the dark look Wolfie was giving him, and knew he was going to be in for it later. But for now, he just enjoyed being able to tease the other hero without any immediate consequences.

Raunchy

Time smiled as he listened to the loud raunchy laughter coming from downstairs. The other heroes had promised to keep it quiet when he had decided to retire early, but it would seem they weren't keeping that promise. Time wasn't feeling inclined to go down and tell them to be quiet, though- his boys deserved the chance to relax.

Beaten

"I can't believe Twilight's beaten me in every single game of chess we've played!" Warriors moaned in shame, slumping down defeatedly in a seat next to Time. Time laughed, and only patted him on the shoulder in consolation

 Drool

Warriors drools in his sleep.

Normally Legend would be gleeful at finding out this information, but his insomnia made it impossible for him to be excited about anything after two days of no rest. He turned to gaze away from the sleeping captain, and shut his eyes, hoping desperately for sleep.

Vivid

"I can remember the sound of my sword going into his head so vividly, and I just can't stop thinking about it! The memory keeps coming back even if I try to forget."

Warriors could do nothing but attempt to soothe the crying sailor, but he knew from experience that that memory would stick with Wind for the rest of his life.

Trace

The scent was faint but Twilight put his snout to the ground, determined to follow the tracks. He would not lose this scent trail. The slightest trace of the scent of sea salt hanging in the air was their only hope of ever seeing the sailor again 

Guffaw

The knight guffawed, slapping Warriors on the back playfully.

To the untrained eye, Warriors would look like he was having a fun time bantering with his fellow knight, but to Legend, the tenseness of the captain’s back told a different story. Legend sighed, hailing himself up and getting ready to go save his fellow hero from unwanted social encounters.

Soap

Time and Malon’s bath house was perfectly warm and quiet, and Sky could feel himself relaxing already. The other heroes would poke fun at him for falling asleep here, but in truth, he was exhausted. He’d already cleaned up with the soap Mrs. Malon had provided, so he felt no shame in slipping off into dreamland.

Whoops

Wild grinned sheepishly, “Whoops!”

Time stared incredulously at the carnage in front of him. His kitchen, instructed into the Wild’s hands because Time thought the resident cook wouldn’t make a mess, was in absolute shambles.

Trance

The flames flickered in front of Wild, and he stared at them, as if in a trance. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t afford to sleep now, not while being separated from the other heroes, with some mysterious force hunting for him.

He needed to stay awake, or who knows what would happen when he was vulnerable.

Thaw

Legend sighed contentedly, leaning against the open doorway of his house. The spring thaw had come and gone while he was gone, and now was the perfect time to air out the dusty rooms in his house.

With a mug of warm tea cradled in his hand, he enjoyed the rare moment of peace.

Parmesan 

“We’re out of Parmesan cheese,” Wild sounded so genuinely upset at that statement that Twilight had to turn around to look at him. “I was gonna make a special recipe tonight but I needed the cheese for it!” Wild’s ears were drooping, and he for all the world looked like a kicked puppy.

“Don’t worry, cub,” Twilight reassured, “We can pick some up in the next town we visit.”

Family

Time was still giddy from the news Malon had given him earlier in the morning as he set out from the ranch with his fellow heroes. On the outside, he was as stern as ever, but on the inside, he was perhaps the happiest he’d ever felt since the day he married Malon.

He couldn’t believe his family, after so long of hoping and praying, would finally be growing by one.

Scream 

A squeal echoes through the forest, making Twilight’s ears perk up. Wild must have caught something for dinner tonight, if the dying scream of an animal was any indication.

He licks his lips subconsciously, already looking forward to Wild’s delicious cooking.

Uneven

The uneven ground made him stumble, which jolted his injured side, but Sky didn’t dare cry out.

He was one of the better-off members of their party, and a cut on his side was nothing compared to the concussion that led to Wind being carried piggyback style by Wild, or the Warriors’ broken arm that they had no way to numb.

When they reached the town Twilight said was nearby, Sky would be able to tend to his wounds, but until then, they had to grit their teeth and power through the pain

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

Crash was starting to worry. It was about six hours since they had left and they hadn't even tried to get a hold of him to tell him if things had gone smoothly.

Usually, if one of them weren't on the mission, at least someone would remember to radio them. But nothing.

He decided he had to go look for them. He went to grab his jacket, as he was still sick, he didn't want to risk getting sicker, and went to go out the door.

He opened the door and was about to step out when he heard something very small, “Crash!” The voices shouted. He looked around, trying to find the source, “D-down here!” He looked down and the other four were there…and about four inches tall, “Oh my gosh, guys, here get in my hands.” He cupped his hands and sat on the balls of his feet. The commander jumped up first and lent a hand to his shivering comrades, “We’ve been knocking for, like, three hours.” Eaglebones said through chattering teeth.

He brought them out of the rain. They, except for Jimmy, were shivering and pale. They were covered in dirt and leaves and all about looked like they had a wild time. Crash nearly dropped them as he sneezed a few times in succession. They had to cover their ears from the loud noise, “Ugh, are we gonna get sick?” Ricky exclaimed, horrified, “There is a 76.98 percent chance of that, yes.”

The shrinky dinks groaned (I'm calling them Shrinky dinks now). It wasn't enough that they were tiny, but now they had to get sick, too? Things were not going well for them today, “So who did this to you?” The sound of Crash’s voice reverberated in the bunk room, “Can you talk quietly? It's really loud when you're small.” Eaglebones said.

Crash whispered an apology and set them down on Eaglebones’ bed, as it was the only one that was closer to the ground and Crash didn't want to put them on his bed.

They all just stared up at Crash before the commander turned to Jimmy, “Please tell me you have some sort of giant ray, or something.” 

“I have a shrink ray.”

“You are an ass.” Everyone gasped at the commander's use of a forbidden word, “Dude, you're not allowed to say that.” said Eaglebones, covering Ricky's ears.

Crash laughed at their antics before asking, “How are you tiny?” The commander frowned, “Carl.” crash groaned, “The wizard?” Everyone nodded.

The little bats were all still wet and shivering and wouldn't be able to change from their wet clothes, as they didn't have small clothes. Crash was starting to worry about them. How was he going to make everyone big again?

“Okay, why don't we just relax a bit, everyone calm down.” Everyone had been pacing on the mattress, “I'm taking off my shoes.” Said Ricky, sitting down and taking his wet shoes and socks off and everyone, deciding that looked really comfortable and took off their shoes, “Well, what now?” Ricky asked.

Everyone pondered. What now? That was a giant question. Usually, they never had to worry about it, as the commander usually winged it.

But there was no winging this.

No, they had to actually have a plan, “Well, I think the best thing we do is sleep on it. I don't know about you guys, but I'm tired.” Said Eaglebones, walking over and getting under the edge of the blanket, “Okay, plan in the morning. Crash, put Jimmy on his charger.”

Crash nodded and put his hand out for Jimmy to hop into, “Jimmy, do you think we'll be able to get you guys back to normal size?” He asked as Jimmy hopped back down into his charging station, “I don't know, crash. I don't know.”

After that, crash stared at the wall. This was one fine mess they were in 

I am being a productive gal today! @duckzrule4ever, you owe me candy!

[deadmomjokes]

Do you have any new adventures with bean?

Not so much an "adventure" as a "We all knew this day was coming, but now what do we do about it?" moment, but have the story nonetheless. (Because it is occupying my thoughts nonstop, mostly because she won't let it go.)

Picture this: It is bedtime for a young girl who historically hates bedtime. Because of this, we have done up her room with what one would consider The Works--blackout curtains, white noise machine, specifically-requested rainbow nightlight, and a brand new Big Girl Bed with a fancy headboard full of cubbies, which house her many stuffed animals/bedtime buddies.

Every night, she chooses one of these friends to sleep with (which may or may not get swapped three or four times throughout the night, because she is my child after all and indecision runs in our veins like a wild horse through a dewy morning field). This particular night, I ask "Which toy would you like to sleep with?" and she cheerfully says, "Duck."

Not a toy duck, mind you. It is a plushy cat named Duck, whom she loves very very much. Her other toy cat is named Toast. She is very good at naming things. But moving on.

She snuggles up with Duck the Cat, and I prepare to tell a bedtime story as usual. But something is wrong. In the pastel-neon glow of her rainbow nightlight, I see her eyes begin to well up. Her forehead wrinkles. Her eyebrows crease over a nose that is rapidly turning red beneath its smattering of freckles.

I am as confused as I am concerned. The protests and sorrows don't usually begin until after story time, when kisses and night-nights have been deployed. More importantly, they're usually all performative. But this is genuine sorrow.

Before I can open my mouth to ask what is wrong, she turns her watery baby blues on me and chokes out, "Mama, I'm sad."

I ask, "Why are you sad, baby?"

She looks from me, to her precious Duck the Cat, lying silent and still beside her on the pillow, and places a tiny hand on the plush, overstuffed head.

"Duck is my pretend pet cat. I'm sad because there is not a real cat." And she once more fixes me with a weepy, heartbreaking look of soul-crushing despair and says the words I have long dreaded: "I want to have a real pet cat."

Y'all, her dad is allergic to cats.

I'm not talking "sneezes and sniffles" allergies, either. I'm talking "was rushed to the ER as a child," "breaks out in full-body hives," "has full-blown reactions from simply interacting with people who have recently held a cat" kind of allergies. His allergies are so severe and sensitized that he essentially functions as radar for cat owners: hug someone and wait for the sniffles and itchiness. It never fails. There is no way this man could ever coexist in a house with a cat for longer than a few hours while doped up on benadryl, even one of the "hypoallergenic" breeds (which is very misleading and dangerous misinformation, but that's a whole other post in itself).

I mean, it's not like we can have a pet right now anyway. We live in a no-animals housing situation. We're also likely to move cross-country by the end of the year or early next, which would be difficult on any animal. I'm working on finding the right meds for my ADHD, my husband is running around to post-op PT and followups, Bean is dealing with her own specialty appointments for her gastric issues. It's just not a great time to bring in a pet. But the one-- the only one-- we could never have in our house to begin with is the one that my daughter happens to catch a Pining for at a grand 3.5 years old, which is, perhaps, the worst possible age to try and explain the many reasons we should not/cannot have a pet right now. Especially the one she wants.

The wee one knows Dad can't be around cats. That's part of why she was so sad. But the Pack-Bond Longing has officially come upon her, and she wants a pet. Really, really wants a pet.

Unfortunately, she comes by it naturally. My husband and I are both Animal People to the core. We run the Slimy Critter Rescue Brigade when it rains. Despite crippling anxiety disorders, I once skipped classes and made 3 hours worth of phone calls (as well as sacrificed my favorite handmade jacket) to catch an injured seagull that tried to take my face off multiple times. Her dad can't resist petting a cat if it comes within his line of sight even though he knows good and well it will have severe consequences. I have broken housing rules multiple times to care for injured or orphaned animals, only some of which were domestic pet species.

So it's not just her. We are all in Deep Mourning at the moment. It doesn't help that our brilliant genius child remembers the kinds of animals that Dad is not allergic to. She tells us at least once a day that she really wants to have a pet, and it is okay that we cannot have a cat in our house because Dad is not allergic to lizards/some dogs/fishes/birds/snakes/guinea pigs (that appears to be in order of desire), so maybe we can have one of those animals for a pet.

Worse, any one of us technically qualifies for an ESA to bypass the housing issue.

As the adults, we're trying really hard to be strong and think of the best thing for an animal, which does not include entering into a household in transition and likely to uproot soon.

But she's right and speaks for all of us: "I want a real pet animal to be in my house." :(

[sonicasura]

Peluda!Wind

The last Link in our Chain who hasn't gotten an inhuman version. I won't lie that it was DIFFICULT thinking what I could make Wind as the other choices either have not enough info or just didn't fit my idea.

Today I finally found one in the form of the Peluda (Spanish for Hairy One) or La Velue (Shaggy Beast in French). A fur covered serpentine like creature bearing poison tip spines can breathe fire and caused floods. Even though this creature originates in France, I'm using Peluda name as it's shorter and easier to remember.

Hatched from a strange egg his Grandma found outside her house one day. Wind instinctively took on a Hylian form just three weeks afterwards. His spines didn't grow in until he was 8 and they can be flattened against his back when not in use.

The effects of Wind's poison varies on how big the dosage is but it's instantaneous either way. Small: Hallucinations. Medium: Full body paralysis. Large: Calcification of all flesh.

His fur is sun blonde in color while his scales are a royal blue. Wind is a draconic long necked Peluda and is around the size of a large elephant at his current age in LU. His Hylian form has some Peluda traits such as a few small spines, some fur on his back, claws and sharp teeth.

Has difficulty swimming in Hylian form and can only doggy paddle since it's the closest to swimming in his true form. As a Peluda, he can outswim the fastest speedboat and catch up to horses quite quickly on land.

Everyone on Outset Island knows about Wind's true nature so they're quite protective of him. Anyone looking for the Shaggy Beast is always led on a wild goose chase especially since the Fishmen like Wind too. He sheds both scales and fur which is repurposed into different items for the islanders.

He doesn't shift into his true form much when off his home island especially around the King of Red Lions. Their first meeting was already awkward as he shifted back to his true form halfway through the Helmaroc King's sendoff and nearly crash into said ship.

Will sneeze fire so Wind often runs to some non-flammable location or place the instant he feels an itch. His tail will materialize with a harsh enough sneeze. Linebeck learned that bit the hard way as five seconds later he had to be fished out of the sea from a sudden tail slap.

Quite a few other people and races know about his true form such as the Goron, Rito, Koroks, Anouki, Yook, Linebeck, Tetra alongside her crew, etc. After the events of Phantom Hourglass, charms based on Wind's true form were made and seen as good luck charms. (Linebeck definitely started it.)

Once becoming apart of the Chain, Wind was actually nonchalant about his Peluda nature. Only Time and Warriors knew as the Sailor was less hesitant to use it during HW's events. He just kept it to himself until there was a situation that needed such power. Wind did scare the absolute shit out of any Downfall Era Zora dumb enough to drag him in the water before then.

He took on his Peluda nature when the group got stuck in the middle of a monster ridden sea too dangerous to sail any boat in. Wind was definitely a little shit about it even as he ferried the group to safety.

Hyrule had some issues interacting with the Sailor afterwards considering how hostile dragons were in his era. This just gave Wind more incentive to help the Traveller feel comfortable around the nicer members of the draconic species.

It isn't uncommon for a few Links to sneak a little nap on the Sailor's back as he can carry his fellow Chain members while they travel. If he's shedding, Wind lets the group use his shed fur and scales too. Items made from his fur are very durable, waterproof, fireproof but also cold resistant. Anything made from his scales is resistant to fire, ice and much more durable than the average counterpart.

Wild might've wanted to see what Wind could do in his true form once. Both were never allowed to be left alone together again afterwards. Just know Wind invented Hyrule's version of the Loch Ness Monster as a byproduct.

Overall, it felt like the Chain had gotten one sassy teenage Peluda instead of a sassy juvenile pirate. Warriors did try to ground Wind once. Captain found himself grounded by a large tail instead for horrible self care.

That's all I have for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Hyrule!