#Marcie's (small) Thought of the Day <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[waywardxrhea]

deserving - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

In your distraction after a rough day you end up the victim of a band of muggers.

word count: ~1.5k

content: angst, mugging, anxiety, panic attack, language, canon typical violence, fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics (i seriously only ever use the graphics from this account and I am so grateful for them! <3)

As you walked back to your apartment complex in the near darkness of Hell’s Kitchen, your mind was anywhere else than where it should have been. Where it should have been as you carried a mid-sized box in your arms, which caused you to leave your purse freely dangling at your side, was on your surroundings. Hell’s Kitchen, even with Daredevil running around at night, was still dangerous, and not everyone knew to fear the Devil who lurked in the shadows. 

You came to regret your stupid choices of not putting your purse on top of your personal effects in the box and to make this trip in the near darkness when all of a sudden there was an arm pulling you into a chokehold from behind. The man’s gruff voice began demanding your purse and anything of value you held in the box while another man knocked the box from your arms before beginning to yank on the strap of your purse. Rather than using any form of self defense you knew though, you just froze in place as you began to get less and less oxygen to your brain as your attacker choked you out while his buddies ransacked the box that had crashed to the ground. 

“She doesn’t have shit in here!” one of the men groaned in dismay. You heard the sound of glass breaking as he added, “Stupid picture of her and her boyfriend, a plant, a couple of calendars!”

“Oh you just got fired didn’t you, doll?” the one choking you sneered in your ear as he added just a bit more pressure while he laughed.

“Ooh this is promising, she’s got a laptop charger! Look for the computer!” said a different voice from near the box. 

Suddenly though, air finally flooded your lungs and you dropped to your knees as your attacker was pulled away from you. You couldn’t even process what was happening around you as panic began to overtake your body. As your breathing became erratic and your heart pounded in your ears, you curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head in to make yourself as small as possible. A sense of doom creeped up your spine and into your brain as thought after brutal thought reminded you of every single terrible thing you had ever done or said or thought. Everything was free game to the monster running rampant through your memory banks, and he gladly reminded you of how badly you messed up. All the time. It seemed to be your defining characteristic. Nothing you ever did seemed to-

“Shh, shh, sweetheart I’m right here,” came a gravelly voice close to your ear as you were suddenly aware of a presence right beside you. The figure pulled you in close to his chest as he whispered, “I’ve got you. They’re gone.”

Your breathing came in sharp between short sentences as you gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t see them coming! I wasn’t paying attention! I’m sorry! I can’t do anything right! I’m sorry…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said the voice. 

Tentatively, you pulled your face out from its place in your folded up legs and looked around, noticing your ransacked box, your purse lying beside it, your intact laptop, the leaves of your spider plant, and the broken framed picture of you and Matt at Foggy and Marci’s wedding. Bringing your senses closer to your body you felt the cold ground beneath you, the sharp poke of some rocks in your bottom, comforting arms wrapped around you, and beside you the strange armor that Matt wore at night when he went out to fight crime in the streets of the Kitchen. You heard the distant sound of cars driving, Matt’s voice returning back to normal from the Devil’s, and his steady heartbeat as you pulled yourself closer into his embrace. You smelled sharp metallic blood in the air, but Matt’s cologne from his day in court overtook the smell as you burrowed into his embrace. Finally, you tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth and you finally felt like you could breathe normally as you came down from your panic attack in Matt’s arms. 

“There you are,” Matt whispered before kissing the top of your head. “There’s my sweet girl. You did great coming back from that.” You didn’t deserve his sweet words or his encouragement, but you were too weak to argue. How pathetic… Where was your ability to hold your tongue earlier? “Let’s get you home,” he said after a few more moments, getting up and locating all of your things to get packed into your box before helping you back onto shaky legs. 

Matt got you back into your shared apartment and went about the formality of leaving the complex, only to come back through his usual route via the roof access mere minutes later. When he got back, you feigned being fine and encouraged him to get out of his suit as you busied yourself with making the both of you hot chocolate. After he was out of his suit and had quickly wiped the sweat away from his body, Matt was behind you again, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. This show of tenderness only broke you down once more and your tears began to fall again no matter how much you willed them to stop. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart, let it out,” Matt told you, turning you around to face him so he could hold your head close to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready we can talk about it,” he assured you as he slowly guided the both of you toward the bedroom so he could hold you more easily. The gesture only broke you more and you fought a battle in your head between wanting to push him away because you didn’t deserve him and pulling him closer because you knew Matt was the only thing holding your broken pieces together. Eventually the latter won out and you clung to him with everything your weak body had as you continued to cry into his chest. 

After a few minutes you managed to regain a semblance of your voice and you choked out, “I’m sorry…”

“For what, sweetheart?” Matt asked, the tenor of his voice and the rumble of his chest beneath you managing to calm you down just that much more. In response, you began to feel some of the tension in your muscles release. 

“I messed up… Big time…” you whispered, your voice breaking again as you remembered what happened at work that day. “I was having a rough morning. Got in late. Spilled my coffee. Didn’t get to eat breakfast. So when I was called to my boss’s office I snapped at him and he…he fired me on the spot. Cited insubordination. Told me to collect my things after business hours. I’m so, so sorry Matt…”

You could feel Matt’s muscles tense and could practically sense the Devil beginning to itch to be let out onto someone for hurting you. But then the tension eased as he kissed the top of your head before he said, “He’s an asshole who didn’t truly know who he had working for him. I’ll help you find somewhere else to work, one that doesn’t have sleazebags just wanting to line their pockets in charge.”

“You…you aren’t mad?” you asked timidly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“B-because I lost my job… One income is hard to live on in this city, and the firm’s been taking on more pro bono work lately, and-”

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad. I promise,” Matt reassured you. “I hated that you had to work for that company and I’m actually happy that you’re out now. They didn’t deserve your hard work and dedication. You’ll find somewhere that will. Somewhere that understands that people have bad days and they don’t deserve to be fired over it. Somewhere that cares about you and what you have to say.”

“So like you in business form,” you said, a ghost of a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Like me in business form,” Matt confirmed with a quiet chuckle. 

You were quiet for a moment before telling him, “Thank you for saving me out there by the way… I… The day got to me and I just froze. I’m-”

Before you could get the rest of your next apology out, Matt was tilting your chin up and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, he told you, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. No matter how bad of a day you’re having. I will always be here for you.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he told you fondly which made tears start welling up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of happiness. How you ever got lucky enough to have Matt in your life was a mystery you would never figure out, but in moments like these you were truly grateful for his kindness and the safety he provided you - not only as Daredevil, but as the man in your arms cuddling you until your mind came back to the reality that everything would be okay eventually and that you were deserving of him and the kindness he gave you.  

a/n: so this was inspired by a dream i had a few months ago wherein i too was having a panic attack and our sweet Matty came to my rescue combined with having an absolutely terrible mental health evening last night (whoops). whatever the circumstances i am just grateful to have the ability to express myself via my writing and i hope others can find some solace in my writing!

xo, brooke <3

general taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[aro-of-argentum]

Red Dahlia- Chapter 3

WC: 2069

Notes: Reader is a medical professional, I am not. Angsty and touch starved Jason. Glimpses at where the reader came from.

Beta'd by: @teaspacebar

Previous Chapter, Masterlist, Next Chapter

Chapter 3:

You walked in the door and took your shoes off, feet aching even in sneakers meant specifically for people that walked all day, as you listened to the woman on the other end of the phone.

“You better not tell me they called you in again,” Marcy, one of the first friends you’d made after moving here, had been planning a night out for your group. “You promised me you’d be able to come!”

You sighed, knowing that if you bailed, you’d never hear the end of it. “Fine. If I can get the night shift to show up an hour or two early, then I can be out for a little while. No promises to stay the whole time though.”

“Yay! Works for me!” The whine left her voice as she accepted your answer. “Wear something nice, we’re going uptown!”

“Marcy, I can’t afford-”

“Then we’ll put you on my tab. No excuses, you’re coming.”

You shook your head to yourself, a small smile on your face. “Okay, Marce, thanks.”

“It’s never a problem babes. I love your face.”

A breath of relief washed through your lungs as you recognized she was signing off. “Love yours too. I’ll see you this weekend.”

She hung up and you tossed your phone to the couch rather than check on any of the other notifications. The shower was calling your name, but before you could head to your bathroom, you heard knocking on your window. You froze, leaving your back turned.

“I come in peace,” you heard him announce from outside. “I’m here about some magic stitches.”

You huffed an almost-laugh as you hung your head. At least he’s not threatening my life this time, you thought. With a deep breath, you straightened back up and crossed the room, slid the window open and gestured for the Red Hood to come in.

“I already told you they aren’t magic,” your tone was best read as neutral, if not slightly amused as you spoke.

“And yet,” he gestured to his side, “here I stand four days later, with nuisance stitches doing more harm than good in an almost entirely healed gunshot wound.”

You popped an eyebrow at him and dropped all your weight to one hip, “And you’re mad about that?”

There was the slightest tilt of his head, as though he was getting annoyed. “What did you put on them?”

Your head shook as you responded, “It not about the stitches.” You walked to the area meant to be a dining room that acted more as a tiny lab, knowing he’d follow. “It’s this.” The vial you picked up was only a couple of inches tall and contained a translucent salve, with a slight blue tint to it.

“And what is that?” he asked from just over your shoulder. He was standing so close you could almost feel his body heat against your back, as he looked down at the vial.

“This,” you said, turning to face him, with your greatest success still in your hand, “is a compound I designed, that aides the healing process.”

Jason couldn’t help but lean in to get a better view, eyes wide as he stared through his mask at the vial. “How does it work?”

You smiled, happy to explain it to someone. “It’s a chemical compound made mostly of vacant stem cells. The other parts of the compound stabilize the cells and help them copy the DNA they come in contact with, that way the cells can immediately get to work repairing whatever damage was done. It’s not instantaneous though. Anything bigger than a paper cut still goes through the same healing process, just significantly faster, and then the extra cells die when the tissue has been repaired. They get broken down or discarded like normal after that.”

“And you used it on me,” you heard his irritation turn to accusation in the statement.

“Was I supposed to let you die?” Your volume raised in your shock at his reaction.

“I would not have-”

“You would have! The only reason you didn’t was this!” You held the vial in front of his mask. Your anger melted as you considered that night again, and your tone softened when you spoke next. “You were bleeding out. I had to do something, I couldn’t just-” your gaze fell to the floor.

Jason fought every instinct to reach for you as he watched a myriad of emotion flit through your face.

“But anyway,” you took a breath and picked back up, setting the vial back in its rack. “That’s how it works.”

He nodded. “Is that all of it that you have?”

“For now, yes. I don’t have the resources to make more, but maybe one day.”

“Have you thought about making other types?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, but again, resources.”

“Right,” Jason scolded himself internally. Of course she wants to make more, what an ignorant question. She already said she’d be doing more if she had the resources, why would you even ask? The value of that tiny bottle was not lost on him. It had healed him in just 5 days, and you’d used it on him even though you had so little. And he was thankful for it, happy even. How selfish.

“You there?”

“Hm?” He snapped back to himself and found you staring at him.

“I thought you might have zoned out; I can’t tell through the mask.” You squinted, trying to determine any kind of facial expression and found none. “But I guess that’s the point, right?”

He grew flustered under your gaze and felt the back of his neck heat up as his eyes connected with yours. You stared into the eyes of his mask, and he had to remind himself there wasn’t any way you could see through the panels. “I should go.”

Jason watched your face contort with confusion. “I thought you needed your stitches out.”

“I came to ask questions about the stitches,” It wasn’t a lie, he really did want to know how the hell he had healed so fast. But he would be lying to himself to say that he wasn’t invested in seeing you again. He’d been lying to himself like that a lot lately. “I can have them removed later.”

“You said they were irritating your skin, right? I can just pull them now so you don’t have to worry about getting wherever it is you go while they’re still in there.”

You walked away from him, and for a moment Jason considered leaving before you came back with whatever you’d gone to retrieve. But before he could make a decision, you were already setting on the counter one of the biggest first aid kits he’d ever seen.

You paused, sensing his unease, and turned to the man, seemingly still frozen. “Do you want me to remove them?”

The question was clearly meant as an out if he wanted it, a way for him to leave without guilt. A simple ‘No, thank you,’ would do quite nicely to get him out of your apartment and out of your life. It wasn’t his place to think he was entitled to you. You’d helped him once, then answered questions because he threatened you. Now he was back because he had more questions?

He wanted to see you. But absolutely not. He wasn’t going to put you in danger like that. He couldn’t. There was no such thing as feelings for him anymore. He didn’t deserve to have someone who gave a shit about him, especially not someone who’d expected nothing in return. He couldn’t ask you for that.

But you offered. Because you care.

“Hey, Red?” You interrupted his thoughts with a tilt of your head and concern in your eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Long night.” He clipped his words in attempt to regain his composure, hoping the excuse would hold. “Would you cut them?”

The nod you gave him was small and reassuring, a soft smile crossing your face in attempt to calm him. There was something in the back of your head that told you the Red Hood was not someone who ever asked for help, even if he needed it, and you attributed his distracted behavior to that discomfort.

Jason shrugged out of his jacket, laid it on the counter, and pulled up the bottom of his undershirt to expose the line of perfect stitches sitting over an almost completely healed gunshot.

“Oh, wow,” you breathed the words as your hand flew to his side to inspect what was left of the wound. The scar would be tiny if there was one at all.

Jason hissed, the inhale dragging through his front teeth, and he held his breath as he felt your skin on his. He did everything he could to concentrate and calm down, the last thing he wanted was you feeling how much his heart rate had spiked. When you brought tweezers and the smallest pair of scissors he’d ever seen to his skin, he focused on the cold of the metal. He swallowed the lump in his throat and exhaled slowly, trying to control his breath.

“I know, it won’t be long,” your bedside etiquette coming to the surface as you mistook his discomfort for pain. “You hardly even flinched when I put these in.”

Jason looked down to find you staring at your work as your hands moved in motions so practiced you must have done this a thousand times. He felt his calm begin to leave him again as he watched you administer such attentive care. Conversation would help. “Where did you learn to do this?”

You froze for a moment, the question about your past catching you off guard, but you recovered quickly and continued working. “I went to med school in Star City,” you did what you could to leave it open ended, not wanting to shut the conversation down with your tone.

Curiosity laced through Jason’s voice, “If you’re a doctor, why are you developing this stuff at home instead of in the hospital’s labs and with their money?”

A humorless exhale of a laugh left you as you continued to only look at the stitches you pulled. “I’m not a doctor.”

“Oh,” Jason refused to look down, and opted instead to maintain his stare at the wall. “The scrubs…” he trailed off for a moment. “I just assumed.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “I never finished. I stopped halfway through my last year of residency and moved. I’m a phlebotomist at Gotham General, no degree required.” You made a ‘ta-da’ motion with your hands to help lighten the topic.

“Why Gotham?”

“It’s a good place to disappear.”

The room got quiet, and Jason attempted to consider what you could possibly be running from, the protective feeling from the other night creeping in once again. But before he could ask, you broke the silence.

The ‘tsk’ sound you made was quickly followed by, “There, you’re all done. Let me get the-”

When Jason saw you reach for the compound his hand shot out and closed around your wrist before he could stop himself. “Don’t,” you froze under his grasp, and he immediately let go. “Sorry, just-” he stepped back and away from where your other hand was still on his ribs. “You worked hard on that; it seems dumb to use it on something like this.” To use it on him. He grabbed his jacket from the counter and quickly shrugged it back onto his shoulders. “Thanks for taking care of that for me.” He didn’t look at you as he said it, refusing to look you in the eye after he’d probably startled you like that.

“Not a problem,” you responded, still a little surprised at how fast he’d moved, and almost sad to see him leaving. “If you need something like that again,” you called as he started to walk away. “I’m here.”

He nodded, “Sure.” He couldn’t come back even if he wanted to, it would put you in danger.

“You know, I saved your life, and you don’t even know my name.”

He froze, as though waiting for you to continue.

“It’s Y/n.”

Jason nodded and repeated it back to you aloud, and then again to himself. “Night,” was all he said before ducking out the window and getting up to the roof to go home. He’d be back.

Tag List: @4rachn3

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

[Anne wakes up and noticing she’s alone the door opens to Sasha and Marcy carrying things]

Sasharcy: Happy Birthday Anne!!

Anne: Aww, you two <3

[Sasha puts a food tray with breakfast and a small vase of yellow tulips while Marcy puts several presents next to her on the bed]

Anne: Oh wow, you didn’t have to do this.

Sasha: Of course we did.

Marcy: We want to show you how much we love you. We’ve the whole day planned.

Anne: That’s awesome, I love both of you. These flowers look beautiful but I thought the florists were sold out this time of year.

Sasha: We know a guy.

Anne: Who?

Marcy: Chuck.

Anne:……………

Sasha: He grows tulips.

Anne: Oh, that Chuck.

[vinization]

A Poisoned Heart - Chapter 3

AO3 link

First chapter

Previous chapter Next chapter

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

Several hours later...

Never in her life did Anne think she'd feel tired after doing nothing other than sit on a chair all day. Yet that was exactly how she was feeling right now, as Marcy pushed her wheelchair through the Newtopia Castle's seemingly endless hallways, the Plantars right beside them. In her defense, she was far from the only one who felt that way, as proven by the loud yawn that escaped Sprig's mouth.

Even if Anne was tired for a completely different reason.

"So much for us having a normal day, huh?" She began, hoping to stave off those feelings and hide them from her companions.

"Tell me about it!" Sprig replied, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I mean, what are the odds of us walking straight into a parade?"

Ah yes, that. Long story short, Anne & co stumbled on a parade honoring a long deceased axolotl named Igor the Brave, and the usual shenanigans ensued. What began as a misunderstanding almost escalated into a full blown riot, after Sprig accidentally destroyed a paper dragon that represented the amphibian in question. Despite everything, however, the affair did give Anne a welcome respite from the whole 'Marcy is awesome' routine that began almost immediately after they left the castle.

And then the ravenette single-handedly fixed the parade goers' dragon with some weird concoction she came up with on the fly, because of course she did. Well, at least the beetle burgers they had afterwards were tasty, so there was that.

"We're here," Marcy's voice snapped Anne out of her thoughts, and the Thai realized she was now in front of a door. "I'll ask again, are you sure you want to move to your bedroom already?" Marcy continued, looking at her bestie with a worried expression. "It'd be easier for me, uh, us to check in on you if you stayed in your hospital room, at least for a few more days."

"I get what you mean, Marbles," Anne countered her friend's gaze with a smile only slightly forced. "But I can't wait to sleep in a real bed again."

Marcy smiled back, a tired and defeated thing, while Hop Pop opened the door. It gave way with a low creak, giving Anne the chance to look into her new bedroom, the one place where she wouldn't need to hide her feelings, for the first time.

She loved it. Between the bed (which was an actual bed, not just some mattress on the floor of a basement like in the Plantar home at first), a shelf where she could put her belongings (and already had most of them), and the fact the room wasn't small enough to feel cramped also but not big enough to feel empty, Anne didn't know which detail she liked the most. There was even a closet too, one big enough to store more than clothes.

"Lady Olivia helped us pick the room," Hop Pop explained. "Somethin' about not overwhelming ya."

"I still think we should've picked the one with the big gold chandelier." Polly quipped.

"It's perfect," Anne replied, voice laced with wonder. "It actually reminds me of..." Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered to better times, but the Thai shook those memories of home out of her head before they overwhelmed her. "I mean, I love it."

"Glad to hear it." Hop Pop smiled, and if he had something on his mind, he didn't say it.

The exchange, however brief it was, was more than enough to Marcy's insides into a knot yet again, for she knew exactly what Anne was about to say. She was right, too: the bedroom was eerily similar to Anne's own room back in Earth, the place where she, Sasha and Marcy had so many sleepovers together.

Pull yourself together, girl. Marcy reminded herself. She had other things to do at the moment, like pushing Anne's wheelchair until she was close enough to the bed.

Alas, Anne had a plan of her own. "Hang on," she spoke before Marcy could push her any closer to her bed. "I wanna try something. Can someone get that crutch over there for me?" The Thai asked, pointing to the object in question, which was leaning on a wall. Sprig retrieved it, and soon enough Anne was gripping the crutch tightly with her left hand.

"Alright..." She took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." Summoning all the strength she could muster, Anne got up at an Earth snail's pace, putting her weight on her right leg before shifting some of it to her crutch. Consciously or not, no one else dared to make a sound, as if even something as basic as too loud a breath could ruin everything.

"You did it," Sprig finally spoke up, his eyes glistening with tears. "You did it!"

"I did?" Even Anne had a hard time believing she was standing up. "Heck yeah, I did it!" She raised her right arm in triumph, but the sudden movement disrupted her balance. She wobbled a bit, a startled "whoa!" escaping her lips.

"Careful!" Marcy exclaimed while she, Sprig and Hop Pop moved in to intercept what looked like an imminent fall, but Anne recovered her footing before that could happen.

"Phew..." She let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, guys." Her gaze shifted from her friends to her future bed, and she took another deep breath. "And now..." Steeling her resolve and muscles, Anne took a step with her good leg. She followed it up by moving her crutch, which made a barely audible thud upon making contact with the stone floor.

Rinse and repeat for what felt like an eternity, every step closely followed by her companions, until Anne was practically next to the bed. She was so close she could almost hear it calling to her, and so the Thai allowed herself to fall.

"Aaah..." Anne tried, and failed, to hide her delight after her body made contact with the fabrics of the mattress, blanket and pillow. She felt like she was on top of a cloud right now, like she could just...

"Um, hello?" A familiar voice snapped Anne out of her reverie, and her heart almost jumped inside her chest after her eyes registered Marcy looming above her. The Plantars were still there, but their diminutive stature meant most of Anne's attention was directed to her fellow human.

"... Sorry, I almost forgot about you guys." Anne's tone was sheepish, and a part of her wanted to sink into the bed until she was invisible.

"It's okay." Marcy gave a reassuring smile, one so sweet she almost didn't look like someone who was hiding a terrible secret. "Do you need anything?" She asked again, trying her hardest to maintain eye contact with her bestie.

"Well, I'm planning to go to sleep right now, so..." Anne snapped her fingers, her eyes widening as she remembered something very important. "Actually, I do! Did any of you guys bring my journal?"

"Ah," Hop Pop perked up at the question. "So you do have one of those things!"

"Well, it's not like Marcy's." Anne shrugged, but the simple act of thinking about that journal left an ugly taste in her mouth. "It's more of a diary, anyway."

"Does it look like a purple notebook?" Sprig asked.

"Yeah, that's the one!" Anne replied excitedly before she considered the implications of her friend's question. "Wait, you didn't read it, did you?"

"What? Of course not!" Sprig bristled, but his angry facade was quickly supplanted by a far more awkward expression. "I was tempted though, and I thought it had..." Realizing he was about to go on a tangent, he shook his head to stop that train of thought, hopped towards the closet and opened one of its drawers.

After a few moments of turning some objects over and tossing others out of the drawer (good thing Lady Olivia wasn't there to see that!), Sprig finally found what he was looking for, and held the purple journal above his head with a triumphant "aha!".

"Thanks dude," Anne spoke once Sprig handed her her journal, along with a pen. "And, um, sorry for doubting you." She finished, her previous apprehension replaced by shame.

"Eh, no problem," Sprig just smiled back. "I did say I was tempted, right?"

"Now, I'm really not one to talk about this," Marcy joined the conversation unexpectedly. "But Anne, don't spend too much time writing on that journal, okay? You need every hour of sleep for your leg to heal properly."

"Don't worry about it, Mar-Mar." Despite everything the Thai knew about her friend now, she could see her concern was genuine. Thus, she had no trouble smiling at her. "I won't be up for long, I'm pretty tired already."

"Right. One last thing, you remember where the bathroom is, don't you? And how to call us if you need any help?"

"Marcy..." It took Anne all she had not to groan.

"Sorry," Marcy could do little except laugh awkwardly at her newfound protectiveness. "Good night, Anna-Banana."

"Good night, Marbles," Anne replied, then turned her attention to the Plantars. "And good night to you guys too. I can't wait to see you all again tomorrow."

The three frogs all replied in their own way, and soon enough they and Marcy were at the door. Sprig was the last one to leave, closing the door behind him after looking at Anne one last time, waving a final goodbye before closing the door.

Anne was finally alone, and the realization of that was all it took for her to collapse on her bed. No longer encumbered by the need to hide her feelings, she let out a long, utterly exhausted sigh. Why, just why was she feeling this way? Sure, Marcy got her stuck here, but it was clear she regretted it. And yeah, the Plantars fawning over the nerdette every five minutes was more than a little annoying, but could she blame them for it? She was freaking awesome!

Why couldn't Anne just be happy for them?

Oh well. At least she had a journal to confide her feelings to, instead of having to bottle it all up. Now, how could she best put her feelings about everything that happened in the last few days into words?

Welp, Anne shrugged to herself, I might as well start from the beginning.

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

Turns out Marcy wasn't the only one who could get into the Zone.

Anne's writing was lethargic at first, since the Thai girl faced two arduous tasks from the moment her pen made contact with the journal's paper: not only did she need to put the maelstrom of thoughts within her head in order, which turned out to be pretty dang difficult, but she also had to remember the chain of events that led to her current situation. This meant Anne had to recall her initial joy at seeing Marcy, the foray into the barbariants' nest and, finally, the moment her life was turned upside down.

It made the deluge that came after Anne wrote her first couple of paragraphs all the more astonishing. Like an old assembly line roaring back to life after years of disuse, Anne's body gained a will of its own, and she found herself unable to stop her hands from scribbling line after line after line. Her brain was just as feverish as her body, minor details she overlooked or forgot during the last few days suddenly materializing in front of her eyes, as if she had visited the various places she saw mere hours ago.

Anne's urge to write about her experiences was akin to a hunger, one that, paradoxically, deepened the more she tried to satisfy it. Writing alone was no longer enough to satisfy her mind's desperate need to rid itself of all the information within it, so she tried her luck at drawing some of the things she saw - she was nowhere near as good an artist as Marcy, of course, but she knew a thing or two about drawing.

Her experience in this front was not too different from writing: small, timid sketches at first, followed by increasingly complex depictions of what she saw, memories pouring from the recesses of her mind like water from a fountain. What started as a few smiley and frowny faces here and there escalated into fully blown miniatures of the murals Andrias showed her yesterday.

And then, as suddenly as it began, Anne's energy ran out. The toll of her body's exertion hit the Thai like a ton of bricks, and she, now aching all over, slumped forward, gasping for air. She feared she was about to black out, her vision blurry as her mind hurriedly snapped back to reality.

"Ugh..." Anne groaned and a hand on her head, feeling what seemed to be the early stages of a headache. She could barely hear her own voice, since it was drowned out by the sound of her heart desperately pumping blood to her weary, sore arms.

It took a few seconds (or minutes, she couldn't tell), but her body eventually calmed down. Even then, it still took a few blinks for reality to set in for good: Anne wasn't sitting on the palm of a giant newt, surrounded by murals that stretched for as far as she could see, but in the bedroom Marcy and the Plantars left her in.

"Holy crud..." She thought aloud. "What was that?" She looked down, towards the journal that was now sitting on her lap, and picked it up.

Anne's mouth opened so wide a part of her was afraid her jaw would fall off. She wanted to write only a couple of pages or so and then go to sleep, yet she had written far, far, far more than that. And there were so many drawings, too!

"So much for me not spending too much time writing..." Anne thought aloud once more as she remembered Marcy's warning. "Speaking of, what time is it?" She picked up her phone, wondering if she had come close to pulling an all-nighter or...

Wait.

What?!

"IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN AN HOUR?!"

What the heck is this?! Since when did Anne write an essay's worth of words, plus all the drawings, in less than an hour?! That sort of stuff was Marcy's department, not hers! Also, how on Earth could she dissociate from the real world this much? Did she seriously need to get those words off her chest that badly? Good Lord, if every future entry is like this, she'll need to-

*knock knock*

...

Oh great. Of course her yell woke someone up. Who could it be on the other side of that door? Were they worried? Did they think she needed help? What was she supposed to say? 'Oh sorry for the ruckus, I was just-'

*knock knock*

... Welp, here goes nothing.

"Come in," Anne says, dreading the possibility of seeing Marcy or, worse still, Sprig rushing into the bedroom, fearing the worst.

The knob turns ever so slowly, as if the person on the other side was scared of making too much noise. The door opens with a creak... but no one walks through it. Huh?

"I said come in," Anne repeated, her dread giving way to confusion.

"I'd love to, kiddo, but I don't think I can fit through the door."

Anne's heart skipped a beat, and a gasp escaped her lips - she knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

"King Andrias!" She called his name with joy, and how could she not since he was the one person she could be completely honest with? "Hang on, just give me a minute!" She continued excitedly, reaching for her crutch and starting the long trek to the bedroom's door. Her efforts were rewarded with the now familiar sight of a gigantic blue newt waiting for her, an appropriately large smile adorning his bearded face.

"I see you don't need a wheelchair anymore," the elderly monarch began. "I have to admit, I'm surprised. I thought you'd need at least a few more days." His smile made it clear this surprise was a very welcome one.

"I'm still a bit wobbly, to be honest," Anne replied. "But man does it feels great to walk again."

"I can imagine." Andrias' expression changed from a happy to an inquisitive one. "So, what was your first day out in the city like? Did you see anything?"

"Oh." Anne felt her heart sink the moment she was reminded of what she went through hours earlier. "We stuck to the streets for the now, mingled with the locals and all that. It was... great."

Andrias didn't buy it, of course. He didn't reply right away, but instead looked pensive for a few seconds. "Great for whom?" He asked with a tone halfway between worried and protective.

"Hey, don't get me wrong now!" Anne replied with an alarmed voice, raising her free hand to emphasize her point. "I did enjoy it, just... not as much as I thought I would."

Andrias' expression softened, to his little listener's immense relief - the last thing she wanted was for him to get angry at someone who didn't deserve it. "What happened?"

"I want to talk about it, I really do, but..." Anne felt her throat tighten before she could finish. "Dang it, why is this so complicated?" She complained, mostly to herself. Her eyes darted to the floor, as if compelled to do so by the weight of her nervousness and gravity itself.

"Do you want us to go somewhere else?" Andrias intervened. "I know a place that's just perfect for you to calm your nerves."

"Are you serious?!" The girl's head snapped upward, her eyes now sparkling with curiosity. "What are we waiting for, let's go!"

Once again, much like when he first met her, Andrias felt his chest warm up upon seeing Anne's smile. It was quite odd, to be honest, how protective he was becoming of the little human, to the point he had to be reminded by the Core of what his true mission was.

He lowered his hand for Anne to climb on, and felt how much stronger she was compared to yesterday when she did. After that, Andrias raised his hand until she was level with his eyes, the gaze emanating from them asking a question he did not need to voice.

"I'm all set, big guy!" Anne answered eagerly. "Let's go!"

Andrias let out a giggle, and although it still rattled Anne to her bones, she found the sensation far less overwhelming than before - indeed, she actually felt her muscles relax, as if her body unconsciously knew she was safe. The king began to walk towards who knows where, and Anne didnt feel an ounce of unease: all she could think about was what he had in store for her tonight.

"Hey dude," she spoke up after Andrias turned a corner and entered a hallway better lit than the others before it. "Do you think I could-"

"Shhh!" The giant monarch interrupted her by putting a finger to his lips. He then pointed that same finger downward, and Anne saw none other than Lady Olivia slumped against an armchair, snoring lightly. One of her hands was holding a book, the other an incredibly suspicious-looking glass bottle.

"... That's not juice, is it?" Anne whispered, and Andrias responded by shaking his head. Truly, no words were necessary.

After tiptoeing his way past the sleeping aristocrat, Andrias entered a room that looked like a very spacious wine cellar. There was a wooden hatch on the floor, and after the dust cloud created by Andrias' opening of it subsided, Anne saw the beginning of a long, dark stairway.

What ancient secret did the king want to reveal this time? Also, couldn't he go down these stairs any faster? This place was creepy...

"So, um, as I was about to ask you," Anne spoke up, hoping to break the eerie monotony of Andrias' footsteps echoing through the darkness. "Do you think I could travel on your shoulder sometime, instead of on your hand? I think that'd be pretty cool."

"Hahahahaha!" Andrias gave a hearty laugh, which was exactly what Anne needed to keep her unease at bay. "You are right, my dear, it would be 'very cool'. We should save it for when you're out of that cast, though - best not to take any risks."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

The stairway finally came to an end, but that didn't mean an end to the ominous ambience, to Anne's dismay. She and Andrias were now in a hallway whose walls were lined up with mirrors of many sizes, which reflected the light from her phone's flashlight in all sorts of unnerving ways.

"Ooookay, what's with all the mirrors?" She couldn't not ask.

"They keep the shadowfish at bay." Came the explanation.

"Shadow what now?"

"Shadowfish," Andrias' tone was calm and didactic. "The creatures you saw yesterday. They can phase through walls and floors with no problem, but as soon as they see a mirror..." He made a 'poof' gesture with his free hand before continuing. "They're powerless. Our scientists learned much from studying them, back in the old days." He finished with a proud smile.

Ah yes, the old days. The golden age Amphibia lived under before the Music Box was stolen, and which Anne had promised to help Andrias restore. The fiery resolve she felt when she made that promise was long dead now, drowned by the steady, painful realization that fulfilling it was a task well beyond her competence. No, this was a job for that adorable, klutzy, brilliant, almost infuriatingly perfect ball of sunshine named Marcy Regina Wu.

Not someone like her.

"Hey," Andrias noticed the change in the Thai's mood almost immediately. "Everything okay there, kiddo?"

No answer.

He frowned. "Don't worry." He tried to reassure the little human, who now looked like a withered flower on his enormous palm. "We're almost there."

Once again, no response. She was so excited a few minutes ago, what was going on? Andrias had no idea, and that distressed him to an unreasonable degree. Or maybe it wasn't that unreasonable, given the stakes involved. Not that it made his master any less annoyed - he was always too emotional for their taste.

An old, wooden door covered in boards, chains and huge red letters stopped the giant king in his tracks. The change in momentum stirred Anne out of her stupor, and she finally spoke.

"What does that say?" She asked with a voice that sounded far too weary for Andrias' liking. It was better than nothing, at least.

"It should be fairly obvious." He explained, his neutral, teacherly expression giving way to a grin that could only be described as smugness given a physical form. "Doesn't apply to me, though." He finished with a mischievous giggle.

Anne smiled back in a way that made Andrias' insides - those the Core didn't replace with cybernetics long ago, at least - roil with anguish. This was not the reaction he wanted, not at all. Well, maybe seeing what was on the other side of the door would change the girl's mood. The door gave way with a creak as he pulled it open, revealing...

"WHAT THE HECK, DUDE?!" Anne yelled once her eyes fully registered the sight in front of her: a flooded room full of floating coffins. "Dark hallways and ominous secret passages are one thing, but what is this even supposed to be?! Some creepy crypt?"

"Hm, more or less." Andrias answered awkwardly. Beneath that façade, however, he was breathing a sigh of relief at seeing Anne not looking so... lost, anymore.

He waded his way through the crypt, the muddy water reaching up to his ankles in some spots. Said water began to glow purple, and Anne gasped in a mix of fear and amazement as she saw shadowfish of all shapes and sizes emerging from it, their ghostly, floating bodies emanating an eerie light. The ghostly animals watched the human and giant amphibian intently, but otherwise kept their distance from the pair.

Another hallway full of mirrors came up, and Anne let out a sigh of relief upon exiting the crypt. She barely had time to recover from that experience before Andrias turned a corner and entered a place so radically different from the one she just visited it took a few seconds for her to realize she wasn't dreaming.

She and Andrias were in a garden that stretched as far as her eyes could see. A huge, underground garden full of plants that didn't need any sunlight to grow.

Andrias took a few steps, each stride covering a vast distance thanks to his size, before sitting down.

"This is it," the king began, beaming with pride and an all too familiar hint of sadness. "The place I go to whenever I need some time for myself. Wonderful, isn't it?"

Once again, just like when Andrias showed her those murals, Anne was speechless. The more her eyes scanned her new surroundings, the more she recognized the word 'wonderful' didn't cut it. It didn't matter where her vision landed, there was always some plant for her to admire, each more beautiful than the last. Some weren't that different from those she'd see back home, with easily distinguishable leaves and branches. Others had a variety of strange, unquestionably alien shapes: some were slender, others bulbous, and some didn't look like plants at all.

And then there were the flowers, which took on a multitude of colors, from recognizable ones like red, yellow and purple to others she didn't know. Some emmitted a dim, low glow, not unlike lampshades in a bedroom.

Even the air itself felt like something out of a dream. It carried a variety of scents Anne had never smelled before, and every breath she took elicited some new reaction from her nose. It was also cold and humid, albeit not excessively so: the Thai was sure she could sleep here, as long as she had a pillow and a blanket.

This garden, full of plants that didn't need sunlight to survive, didn't feel like a part of the real world at all. The word 'wonderful' didn't even begin to describe it.

No, this place was a piece of paradise that somehow found itself in the wrong plane of existence.

Marcy would love it.

Marcy...

There was a time when thinking of the nerdette filled Anne's mind with many years' worth of pleasant memories, from sleepovers to drinking boba until they got sick, playing C&C campaigns Marcy spent all day planning (even if Anne herself wasn't really into that) to saving her from her own clumsiness. Now though, just thinking of her name made Anne's chest ache, like a set of poisonous thorns digging into her heart.

It made her tongue taste a trace of bile, and her eyes well up with tears desperate to be shed.

It stoked a fire within her, wild and furious and eager to-

"So, kiddo, what do you think?" Andrias' voice snapped the Thai out of her thoughts. "Makes you feel like you're dreaming, doesn't it?"

Anne craned her head up in response, and felt an overwhelming urge to scream once she saw how he was looking at her. Here was the mightiest amphibian in the world, looking at a messy-haired girl one tenth of his size with expectant eyes and a fatherly smile.

She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve the trust he was placing upon her.

"Yeah," Anne wiped her eyes and forced down a sob before it escaped her throat. "It's great."

"Anne..." Andrias spoke up again, and hearing him say her name instead of a more distant word like 'kiddo' made her shiver for some reason. "Look, I won't pretend I know what's going on, but if you have anything to say..." He trailed off, giving his listener a chance to put two and two together.

"It's nothing," Anne looked at Andrias again, and how dare he look so worried for her. "I'm fine."

"We both know you're not." The king replied with a tone that made it clear he wasn't having any of it. He let a moment of silence go by before continuing, his features softening. "Before I brought you here, you told me you didn't enjoy your day as much as you thought you would. Why?"

Anne wanted to do nothing more than explode right then and there, to tell Andrias to save his concern to someone who actually mattered. He deserved better than that, of course, so she didn't act on those feelings. Still, she had to tell him the truth. After everything he entrusted her with, despite knowing her for less than a day, he deserved nothing less.

She took a deep breath to steel herself, and balled her hands into fists in the hopes of getting a semblance of a grip on her tumultuous emotions. Here goes nothing.

"Look, dude," Anne began, using every bit of her strength to keep it together. "You don't really think I can help you, do you? Be honest."

"What kind of question is that?" Andrias replied as if the girl had said something preposterous instead of a simple truth. "I'm sure you can-"

"WILL YOU DROP THE ACT ALREADY?!" Anne roared so suddenly Andrias backed away a little. "You don't need to sugarcoat things for me, I know I can't do it! And I know you know it too!" She pointed a finger at him accusingly.

No audible response came from the giant king, whose face remained frozen in an expression of utter disbelief. For Anne, the lack of a counterpoint was a sign for her to continue.

"You don't need me!" She shouted again, her voice straining. "Why would you, when Marcy's right here?! She's already got a whole freaking list of all the super awesome things she's done, and she can't walk five feet without someone thanking her for them!" Her vocal chords were already at their limit, but she didn't stop - she couldn't. "Even the Plantars can't spend five minutes without kissing the ground she walks on! And what about me?!"

Anne, finally out of energy for the time being, collapsed on Andrias' palm like a house of cards. The myriad of sensors and computers within the king's body were working overtime to make sense of what he just heard, and the more he processed that information, the more horrified he became. He knew Anne was in a bad spot the moment he laid eyes on her, but this was completely beyond what he expected.

And then he heard a whimper.

"What about me?"

He felt something wet on his palm.

Anne was crying.

...

That does it - enough was enough.

"Anne," Andrias spoke as calmly as he could, not wanting the girl to know of his own emotional state. "Please-"

"Don't!" The Thai quickly cut him off, her fire from before reignited, even as tears fell from her eyes. "I can barely do ANYTHING right! Do you have any idea how trouble I caused back in Wartwood?! How long it took the for people there to accept me?!" Anne's lungs were desperate for air, but that was nothing compared to the weight of the words still lodged in her throat. "I can barely hold a sword! I can't even get these stupid leaves out of my STUPID hair!"

"Then how are you still alive?!" Andrias finally found his voice, and it came out like a thunderclap at point blank range.

Anne fell on her backside, her self-directed anger completely gone. Her tears stopped falling, and she stared at the king with wide, terrified eyes, akin to a deer in the headlights. Her instincts were yelling at her to run away, consequences be damned, but her body didn't budge. All she could think about was how the king's voice shook the very air around her, and how completely vulnerable she was right now. She was a broken girl lost in the darkness once again, alone with a stranger who could crush her the moment he felt like it.

"How, Anne?! How?!" Andrias pressed on, and the more Anne stared at him the more she realized what was going on. The king wasn't angry or about to hurt her, not at all. She looked into his eyes and saw only sadness, anguish even.

All for her.

"If you're really as weak and stupid as you say you are, how did you make it here?" The questions continued, each hammering Andrias' point further and further. "How did you hold out against those cannibals, monsters and everything else you told me about? How did you survive for a whole month in the wilderness, all by yourself?"

The king at last stopped, and the silence that settled into the garden afterward was beyond deafening. The sound of the wind, the rustling of the leaves, they all paled in comparison to Andrias' words echoing over and over inside Anne's head.

She had no answer to them.

"I... I..." She tried to come up with something, anything, to say. "I-I thought-- I didn't... I... I never..."

Anne's world suddenly shifted upwards, and before long she was right next to Andrias' face. At this distance she could see the true extent of the giant newt's inner turmoil: how his eyes were laden with tears ready to be shed, the sweat dripping from his forehead, how tightly his jaw muscles were clenched.

Andrias needed a hug just as badly as she did right now, so Anne acted accordingly. She wrapped her arms around his right cheek as best as she could, and felt him lean into her touch as gently as he could. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she felt Andrias' welcoming warmth seep into her body, but she squeezed them shut. She couldn't ruin this moment.

Anne lost track of how long the cuddle session lasted, but she felt like a completely different person after it ended. A huge weight was lifted off of her shoulders, which relaxed accordingly, and her determination to fulfill her promise was rekindled.

"I don't know what to say, except... well, thanks I guess." Anne said tentatively. It didn't express the full extent of her gratitude, but she at least managed to string a sentence together.

Andrias didn't reply immediately. Instead, he took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, his features softening as he did so.

"Kid," he began, his voice and expression serious, but still carrying a fatherly undertone. "Never say those things about yourself again, understand? Never." Visibly satisfied at seeing his little listener nod without hesitation, he continued. "You're strong in your own way, brave and willing to do anything for those you love. You just need someone to teach you how to use that strength." Then, a smile. "And I know just the right person for that."

"Who?" Anne couldn't contain the urge to ask. "C'mon, tell me!"

"Sorry kiddo, but I'd rather keep it a surprise." Andrias' smile took on a mischievous edge, while Anne pouted and crossed her arms. "The one thing I'll say is that she's one of my best generals, even if she's a little... eccentric."

"Eh, I'll be fine." Anne dismissed the king's 'warning' with a carefree wave. "You should've seen some of the people I met back in Wartwood. There's this old lady, Mrs. Croaker, who I'm pretty sure is older then Hop Pop, but man can she fight!"

"Oh!" Andrias squealed like an excited child. "You have to tell me more about her!"

"I don't know..." Anne flashed a mischievous, almost impish smirk. "I'd rather not spoil the surprise."

Andrias could only gasp at the girl's audacity - here she was, trying to beat him in his own game. Unacceptable!

"Oh, come on now!" He protested in a way that sounded far too young for his age, to say the least. "It's not like I'll ever know her in person! Probably..."

Anne put a hand on her chin and weighed her options. "Hm, I guess you're right." She at last gave a verbal answer, one that oozed with the smugness of knowing she had the king eating from the palm of her hand. "Now, where do I start? Guess I'll begin with that one time me, Sprig and Polly broke into her home and learned she used to be super hot."

"... Excuse me?"

"I swear it makes sense in context!"

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

Several increasingly ridiculous stories later...

"I have to admit, I'm impressed." Andrias began, his eyes full of surprise and admiration. "For a place that's supposed to be in the middle of nowhere, this town you made yourself at home in is full of colorful characters."

"They sure are, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Anne replied, her lips curled into a fond smile. "But enough about me. Do you have any crazy stories to tell?"

"Hahahahaha!" Andrias' response came in the form of a loud, bellowing laugh. "You better sit tight kiddo, because--"

He suddenly registered something in the corner of his eye, and his train of thought ground to a screeching halt.

"Huh? What's happening?" Anne looked at the general direction Andrias' gaze focused on. She got her answer soon enough: there was something in the garden with them, and whatever it was it was big enough to rustle the various plants along its path. The intruder came closer and closer to where the pair was, and while Anne wasn't afraid (how could she, with someone like Andrias on her side?), she still felt a bit nervous.

The distance between the stranger and the human-newt duo decreased with each passing second, until the mystery creature finally came close enough for Anne to figure out whatever it was supposed to be from her vantage point. It was a fairly large, quadruped animal, with green, almost plant-like fur and glowing eyes.

Indeed, it looked almost like... wait a second.

There was no way. No freaking way!

Anne gasped once her brain connected the dots.

"Ah," Andrias, unaware of the Thai's past experience with a creature exactly like this one, smiled and began to talk in his usual manner whenever he showed Anne something new. "That, my dear, is-"

"A MOSS MAN?!" He was cut off by a squeal so loud his ears rang for a moment.

"Wait, wha-"

"I can't believe it!" Anne continued, her brain and mouth firing on all cylinders. "A moss man, here?! I know you've shown me a lot of super secret stuff so far, but holy crud I did NOT think I'd see this! What is it even doing down here?"

"Um..."

"Can you get me closer, pleasepleaseplease?" Anne pleaded, using every bit of her willpower to make the best possible expression to tug at the king's heartstrings.

"Hm..." Andrias wondered what the in the absolute heck was happening right now, but decided to save that for later. "Yes, of course. But be careful, okay?" He slowly lowered his hand.

"Heck yeah! Thanks a lot, big guy!" Anne couldn't make her gratitude more obvious if she tried. "And don't worry, I will be!"

Climbing down from Andrias' hand proved to be more awkward a task than Anne anticipated, since, besides having one of her legs in a cast, she had only one free hand - the other was holding her crutch. Still, she accomplished it, and so she made her way to where the moss man was, one step at a time.

The strange animal watched her intently, seemingly ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

"Shh," Anne spoke with a gentle voice and slowly extended her arm. "It's okay, see? I won't hurt you."

The moss man took a few, cautious steps towards the girl before extending its own hand to her. Anne gasped, her jaw threatening to hit the floor, as a flower sprouted and began to bloom on that very same hand in a matter of seconds.

"Um, Andrias?" She glanced at the giant newt, unsure of what to do. No response came from the amphibian, who was clearly lost in thought.

"Everything okay there, big guy?" Anne asked again, to no avail. She considered raising her voice to get Andrias' attention, but concluded doing so would likely scare the moss man away.

Speaking of, the animal in question gave Anne a gentle nudge with its outstretched arm to get her attention. It also let out a noise similar to a growl, likely a request for the girl to accept its floral offering.

"Soooo, I take it you want me to take this?" Anne asked, the moss man letting out a noise she swore was an annoyed 'what do you think?' in its language. "Yeah yeah, sorry." She replied sheepishly before considering her options. On one hand, she didn't want to get so close to an animal she didn't know without Andrias' approval, and it was clear he wouldn't snap out of whatever was going on inside that big noggin of his any time soon. On the other, she had already encountered a moss man in the wild, and it wasn't dangerous at all - this one was no different.

So Anne steeled herself, extended her arm and plucked the flower from the moss man's hand. Not only did it not show any sign of pain, Anne was sure it was actually smiling at her beneath all that moss it had instead of fur. She looked at the flower on her hand one more time, placed it on her ear and smiled back.

Meanwhile, Andrias was busy connecting the dots in the most plausible way. He had already gathered a lot of interesting information over the last few days, but the revelation that Anne already knew what a moss man was was nothing short of a bombshell, since there was only one way she could've learned that. Add in the fact that 'Sprig' frog she was so fond of was a spitting image of Leif, and, well...

"Ah!" A startled yelp snapped the king out of his thoughts. He knew that voice.

"Anne!" Andrias shot upright in less than a second, his left hand going straight for the secret compartment in his armor that housed his fire sword. His eyes darted in so many directions so quickly they barely had time to process what they were seeing. His brain, meanwhile, was coming up with a million different scenarios for what might've happened. Did Anne trip somewhere? Did a predatory animal from the outside world enter the garden somehow? Did the moss man attack her?

Another sound, this one far more pleasant, reached Andrias' ears, right as he was about to ignite his sword. It was... a laugh?

The king looked down, and at last saw what was going on with clear eyes. Far from being in danger, Anne was having the time of her life: she had begun to pet the moss man's belly, and the delighted animal returned her affection in the form of a hug. A very big hug, appropriate for a creature which was almost three meters tall when standing upright.

"Noooo!" Anne 'protested' in between her laughs. "You goofball, you'll get me all dirty!

Andrias could barely fathom the scale of the discrepancy between his fears and the scene unfolding in front of him. Here he stood, ready to vaporize a foe that only existed in his mind, while the only thing the girl who he had become so attached to in less than two days was in danger of was getting too dirty.

What else could he do but join in on the laughter? What started as half-muted chuckles gave way to guffaws that reverberated throughout the garden so loudly that Anne and the moss man stopped what they were doing.

The latter actually backed away a little, but a few pets from its new friend were enough of a reassurance not to flee.

"Hey, big guy!" Anne called once the king's laughs subsided. "You were kinda spacing out there, everything okay?"

"Ah yes," Andrias scratched the back of his head. "I'm fine. I was just... thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

The king felt his body tense up in the milliseconds that it took him to answer that question. His words and tone had to be perfect - this was the conversation that would make or break his plans.

"A lot of things, actually." He began. "Such as, how did you know what a moss man is before I told you?"

"Oh, that?" Anne replied with a casual tone, unaware of the importance of the information she was about to give. "Believe it or not, I actually bumped into one not far from Wartwood. Nobody believed me when I told them though, except for One-Eyed Wally." She smiled as she remembered her adventure with the frog in question, and the lesson he taught her. "He's cool."

"Near Wartwood, you say?" Something in Andrias' expression changed, and it sent chills down Anne's spine. It looked just like when he told her the story of how the Music Box was stolen, and, consciously or not, revealed a part of the deep seated resentment that still resided within him.

"Y-Yeah," she stammered a little. "What about it?"

"Hmm..." The king looked pensive for a few seconds, stroking his beard in the meantime. He was, Anne could see, no less nervous than she was - in fact, he seemed almost afraid to ask whatever question was dwelling in his mind at the moment, fearing what the answer could be.

Finally, he took a deep breath before taking the plunge. "Anne," Andrias began, his voice betraying his unease. "The Plantars, do they have a dance? Something that mesmerizes any animal that watches?"

The question caught the Thai by surprise, to the point she had to ponder it for a few seconds.

"As a matter of fact, they do!" Anne replied, more than a little curious about where the giant newt intended to go with this. "And it works, too - I actually pulled it off myself, once."

"Oh." Andrias' face lost almost all of its color in the blink of an eye. "Oh no."

"... Andrias?" Anne asked, her chills worsening as she saw the king's pupils shrink to the size of pinpricks.

Andrias didn't answer right away. Instead he averted his gaze from the girl and grit his teeth, as if not wanting to share his discovery with her. He truly didn't, less for her and more for himself - a part of him refused to believe that the person who ruined his life was still around in any shape or form.

Still, he had to say it. Anne had to know, and he had to admit it.

"The Plantars," Andrias began, his tone and expression laying bare the true extent of his horror. "They're... they're Leif's descendants."

...

"What?" Anne could barely comprehend what she just heard. "What?!"

"When Leif stole the Music Box, she fled Newtopia on the back of a moss man." The king explained. "And that dance? She invented it."

"You can't be serious!" Anne protested. "This has got to be a coincidence!" She felt the floor crumble beneath her feet, much like when she read Marcy's journal.

"I had hoped so too," Andrias replied, his voice laden with sadness. "But it can't be. There are just too many things for me to ignore."

"S-S-So what?" Anne spoke up again. "Even if they're related to her, that doesn't mean anything! They aren't her!"

"Wait a minute." If Andrias' ears registered what she said, he gave no sign of it. "Where did you say the Box was, again?" He asked, fear written all over his face.

A lump formed in Anne's throat, and she forced it out of the way with difficulty. "I-I said Hop Pop left it with some contacts back in Wartwood."

"No..." If Andrias looked afraid before, now he seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack.

"Hey!" And Anne was having none of it. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and you better stop right there!"

The king's eyes snapped towards her. They were still full of fear, and that only made the Thai angrier.

"You don't know the Plantars!" She shouted, her own eyes as sharp as daggers. "And you do NOT know Hop Pop! For starters, he took me in when everyone thought I was a monster! Sure, we didn't always get along, but I don't know where I'd be without him!" She stopped to take a breath, though her gaze remained unrelenting. "Even when he made mistakes, he always did his best to make up for them! And he knows I need the Music Box to get home, so I swear to God, if you even suggest he's gonna betray me, I swear I'll--!"

Anne gritted her teeth and shut her eyes before she said something stupid. As angry as she was, she knew she was in no position to threaten someone ten times her size.

By the time she reopened them, Andrias' body language was completely different. His shoulders were slumped, his head low, and his eyes pinned to the floor. There was no panic within him anymore, only shame.

"I understand." The king spoke with a heavy voice. "You're right, I don't know the Plantars. I shouldn't have doubted them like that, and I'm sorry. It's just..." He lifted his gaze and let out a long, tired sigh. "I'm scared, Anne. The Box has been gone for a thousand years, and to think it's now so close I can almost..." His voice trailed off.

"That must be a lot of pressure, huh?" Anne replied, now feeling a little guilty for lashing out the way she did.

You have no idea, Andrias wanted to say. "It is."

A silence settled between the human and amphibian for the time being, both of them opting to enjoy the peace and tranquility the garden offered for a while. It was during this lull that the moss man returned, accompanied by two others of its kind. They sat not far from where the duo was, the newcomers watching them with curiosity.

Anne waved at them, and the first moss man she interacted with returned the gesture - albeit in a slow, childlike manner, as if it didn't fully understand what it meant but knew it was important somehow. It was at that moment that she noticed something rather unnerving about the moss men: they all had chains around their necks.

She'd have to ask Andrias about that later - he had a good reason for it, of that she was sure of.

First things first, though. "So," Anne began, her voice low but still reaching the king's ears due to the silence reigning over the garden. "Did you figure out how to recharge the Music Box yet?"

Andrias let out a long sigh, and put a hand on his head. "Not gonna lie kiddo, I forgot how big our archives were. I must've read a hundred books today, and I barely touched the, um..." His hand moved to his chin. "What do you humans call that again? The 'tip of the iceberg'?"

"Yep."

"Anyway," the king put an end to that little detour. "What I mean to say is, I'll need help if I'm to find anything about the Music Box within the next days instead of a whole year." He really didn't, but he had to keep up appearances.

"Marcy's help, right?" Anne quickly guessed. "I mean, it's not like I can read those ancient runes you told me about." She felt the thorns digging into her heart once more, while the seed of envy continued to spread its foul roots deep within.

Andrias looked on sadly, knowing there was no way he could downplay the nerdette's superiority on this field - for now.

"Look, kid," Anne felt a light tap on her back, and looked up to see a reassuring smile on the king's face. "I promise I'll teach you how to read them one day, okay? I'd love to learn more about that Thai language of yours, too."

What else could she do but smile back? Plus, she could use a break from having Marcy around all the time.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

[mammameesh]

12 days of fandom

Merry Christmas (Eve) my friends! I've been very busy, but I still wanted to participate so enjoy my 12 days of Christmas all at once!

In No Particular order:

Noble Beloved by AWorldOfDreams @a-noble-dragon

from the author : Schitt's Creek has a secret. And it's a rather large one. David's not at all pleased that this secret involves him, becoming a Dragon Liaison Officer. Because Dragons don't exist... right?

2.

Marcy's Girls by Turkey_Virgin @tyfinn

from the author: Marcy is left alone with Alexis and Stevie after David has to pick Patrick up from a vendor run. Alexis and Stevie both turn to Marcy for relationship advice, and Marcy finds herself to be a substitute mother to the girls.

3.

Marcy's Innocent Questions by Characterassassination @characterassassination-at-9am

from the author:

A series of chapters wherein Marcy Brewer, mom extraordinaire, is a little naïve about Patrick and David's relationship, and maybe gay relationships in general? "Queer things" in general? Not sure where this one's going to go, but I love Marcy and I love embarrassing her and Patrick a just a touch....so we'll see. I just thought it'd be a fun idea to explore.

4.

Apricity by Demora00 @demora00

from the author: “‘ – advised by the Council that in a bid for reconciliation, any members who cannot prove significant and meaningful attachments in North America within 60 days are to return to their originating nation.’"

5.

Conversion (Part One) by Obsessedwithdavrick @obsessedwithdavrick

from the author:

Patrick Brewer had grown up within the confines of the Catholic church.

He was baptised in the nave of the St Celeste church, received his first holy communion in tandem with his cousins and attended the small primary school adjacent to it until he was old enough for high school. He then joined his cousins and the other children of the town, travelling thirty minutes by bus to Ingleside to attend the Catholic high school, where the cohorts were split by gender.

When he wins a coveted Baseball Scholarship to play and study at the University of Toronto, he is matched with an enigmatic roommate, David Rose. David upends Patrick's life (in the best possible way) and takes him on a journey of self-discovery he hadn't realised he desperately needed.

6.

Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot by ApothecaRose @apothecarose

from the author:

When David's ex, Sebastien Raine, unexpectedly shows up in Schitt's Creek, David enlists the help of a stranger on the street to pretend to be his boyfriend in an attempt to get rid of Sebastien.

7.

102 Words by RamonaFlow @ramonaflow

from the author: This is a collection of 102 ficlets consisting of 102 words each using this prompt list

8.

[Art] Painted Pride by lizzie_bennetdarcy @lizzie-bennetdarcy

from the author:

David and Patrick paint themselves for Pride

9.

dinner by flowertrigger @flowertrigger

from the author:

Patrick’s parted lips are as shiny as the glazed ham Marcy pulled from the oven twenty minutes ago and looking just as delicious.

10.

Won’t Love Anyone Else Like I Love You by LikeItsAllInfinite @like-its-all-infinite

from the author:

David Rose is about to turn eighteen and his whole world is going to change when he swaps bodies with his soulmate. Patrick is here to help, but what will David do when he wakes up and Patrick isn't his soulmate? And how will he tell his soulmate he can only ever love Patrick?

11.

Hydrate. Caffeinate. Medicate. Repeat. by coffee_and_glitter @fictasticvoyage

from the author:

Patrick starts meditation to help with his mental health. He and David try a 30 day challenge to focus on their mental well-being, sometimes individually, sometimes together.

12.

It's Photoshop. by jesuisici33 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)  @jesuisici33

from the author:

TK meets a friend who also likes bearded dragons. And Carlos' secret comes out.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 13/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

He knocks again, then stands back to wait. What the hell are they doing in there? he wonders, shifting the six pack of beer he brought to the other arm. Poker night is every Thursday—it’s not like they aren’t expecting him. 

The night is cool and crisp, the clear indigo sky speckled with pinpricks of starlight. Trillions of miles traveled across the universe over thousands of years, just to be overpowered by skyscrapers and streetlights and the haze of the industrial revolution. He tips his face up and locates the Big Dipper, the North Star, Cassiopeia. It makes him at once feel insignificant—a speck on a rock in a pile in a quarry—and extraordinary. How many events throughout the history of time had to happen in precisely the way they did in order to bring him to this moment? It feels like destiny, which is both a comfort and a burden. 

Finally, the door pops open and he’s greeted by a tall blond man with thick glasses. 

“The party has arrived!” the man says jovially, standing aside to allow him entry. “Jeff’s here!” he hollers, and voices of the other two call out greetings from a nearby room. 

“I’ve been standing out there for ten minutes,” Jeff chides gently. “I thought you’d kicked me out of the coven.”

They enter a small dining room with a circular table surrounded by four chairs, two of them occupied.

“We were out back smoking a cigar,” the blond man explains as he takes his seat. “Cuban, the real deal.”

“And you didn’t wait for me?” Jeff asks, exaggerating his level of offense as he sits in the remaining chair. 

“Come on, man, we know Diana would have your balls if she smelled cigar smoke on you,” one of the other men says. He’s older than the other two, with wiry salt and pepper hair. 

“You’re not wrong,” Jeff agrees, cracking open a bottle of beer. “Let’s get this show on the road; who’s dealing?”

The third man, mahogany-skinned and handsome, shuffles the cards artfully, making a show of bridges and cascades as he smirks to himself. 

“Mike thinks he’s hot shit with his little card tricks,” the blond man says bitingly. “Just deal the things already, Mike. Jeff has a curfew.”

“Fuck off, Simon,” Mike shoots back. “I’m perfecting my craft.”

“Women are attracted to money, not junior high magic tricks,” Simon says, nudging the third man with his elbow. 

“I like magic tricks,” the third man comments self-consciously, and the other three laugh. 

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Mike says, shaking his head. “You always gotta be the weird one, don’t you, Frank?”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when I clean house,” Frank grumbles, and Mike finally deals out the deck. 

Frank does, in fact, clean house. They don’t play with real money, just chips, but that doesn’t hamper each man’s desire to win, nor his disappointment when Frank scoops up the lion’s share of the pile and begins stacking them enthusiastically. 

Simon checks his watch, then sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I gotta head out in a half hour or so,” he says. “Marcy didn’t want me to stay too late.”

“Well, I guess Jeff isn’t the only one with a curfew,” Mike teases, and Simon shakes his head with a smile. 

“It’s not that, it’s just hard for her to get up with the baby at night right now, so I’ve been taking all that on.”

“Is she okay?” Jeff asks, his mind immediately going to the kinds of things that can cost you a sister. 

“Yeah, she’s fine, just tired. She’s, uh—she’s pregnant again, actually,” Simon offers, and all the eyebrows at the table shoot up to their hairlines. 

“No shit,” Frank says carefully. “Is that good news or bad news?”

“Surprising news,” Simon says. “But ultimately good. We didn’t really plan to have two this close together, but I guess fate had other ideas.”

“Congratulations,” Jeff offers, extending his hand. “That’s great.”

“Can’t say I miss those days,” Frank remarks, still stacking his chips. “Up at 3:00 am trying to get a baby back to sleep when you have to be up for work at 6:00? No thank you. I’m glad mine are all grown.”

“Thanks, Frank, that’s really kind of you to say,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. 

“I always miss my kids when they’re at Jenny’s,” Mike says sadly. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Hey now, I love my kids,” Frank defends. “I’m just saying, waking up in the middle of the night fucking sucks.”

Jeff watches the exchange, unable to take part. He can relate to overbearing spouses and the perils of the working world, but he has nothing to offer on the subject of fatherhood. 

“I actually need to head out too,” he says as he stands and retrieves what remains of his beer. “Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to my balls.”

“Send our best to the warden,” Frank quips, earning him a warning look. 

He leaves them, a peel of laughter fading as he pulls the door closed behind himself and makes his way to his car. 

It does bother him a little, the way they talk about Diana. At the same time, what they say about her isn’t untrue. She is a little bit controlling, but not without due cause. He’s made mistakes in the past, ones he can never fully set right, and ones that justify Diana’s desire to know where he is and with whom. He promised her that he would do whatever it takes to make it up to her, and that has included checking in regularly and being home by midnight. Of course, his friends don’t know that, because he’s never told them. He’s too ashamed. So he accepts their cheap shots at his wife, and then drives home to her so he can prove again and again that she is the only one he wants to come home to. 

He slinks into the house quietly, shushing Frenchie’s barks as he enters through the laundry room. He walks towards the back of the house to let her outside, and is startled by Diana’s voice as he passes through the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

He jumps a little, bringing his hand to his chest as he pulls the sliding glass door open and Frenchie slips out. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” he admits, though that was fairly obvious by his reaction. 

Diana is perched at the kitchen island wearing a silk nightgown, a glass of water on the counter before her. He looks at the time on the microwave display and then back to her pinched expression. 

“By four minutes, Diana,” he defends, indignant. 

She pulls in a deep breath, straightening her posture. 

“Where were you?” she asks. 

“At Frank’s, for poker night. Same as every Thursday. There was an accident on the turnpike,” he tells her, and his gut twists at the disbelieving look on her face. He steps closer, laying his hand over the top of hers on the countertop. “Diana—”

She pulls her hand out from under his and stands, walking to the sliding glass door to let Frenchie back in. 

“I believe you, Jeff. But call next time, okay?” she says tersely, and he nods. 

He lies awake in bed, and by Diana’s breathing, he can tell she is awake too. He feels guilty, but also angry that he feels guilty when he didn’t do anything wrong. He knows that he deserves this, knows he’s lying in a bed of his own making, but he still hates knowing that it will never go away. Six years later and she’s still watching him like a hawk. He thought it would get better over time, but it hasn’t. 

And then there’s Simon and his new baby. He was surprised by the pang of jealousy that lit up in his chest upon hearing the news, a sensation he’s never experienced before. He’s always considered he and Diana to be childfree by choice, but looking back, he doesn’t really recall weighing in on that decision. Diana never wanted to be a mother, and he wanted to be with Diana, and so it was simply part of the deal. Now, at nearly 39 years old, he suddenly wonders if being a father would suit him.

“Did you always know that you didn’t want children?” he asks out loud, and Diana’s breathing pauses briefly. 

“Where did that come from?” she questions.

“Marcy is pregnant again, and I was just thinking—”

A blustering sigh. 

“Jeff, are we really going to do this right now?” she asks, annoyed. 

“Do what?” he counters, equally irritated by her dismissiveness. 

Diana rolls to her side to face him, propping her head up on a fist. 

“Can you really see yourself giving up poker night, and sleeping in, and playing basketball on the weekend?” she asks, her tone shifting to something lighter. 

“I mean…I don’t think I’d have to give up all those things. Not forever, anyway,” he says. 

“Imagine walking into the office to find your rare book collection in tatters on the floor, covered in drool,” she teases, and he smiles. 

“That would be less than ideal,” he agrees. 

“Imagine having to stay quiet when we make love,” she continues, sliding her hand across his belly. 

“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” he says, now grinning. 

She hitches her leg up over his hip, straddling him, then peels the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. 

“These are, and always will be, exclusively for you,” she says in a syrupy voice, then leans forward and brushes her lips over his. “Help me fall asleep, Jeff,” she whispers. 

Her nightgown finds its way to the floor, as do his boxers. She sits astride him, grinding with her eyes locked on his. She’s possessive, maybe a little desperate, though he’s not sure why. 

“That’s it,” she encourages him, her hands planted on his chest. Her eyes slide closed, her mouth falling open. “Yes, Fox,” she murmurs. 

When she collapses against his chest he rubs wide circles over her back, and his mind instantly returns to its wandering state. 

“What did you say about a fox?” he asks, and she stiffens. 

“What?” she asks breathlessly, her face tucked against his neck. 

“You said something about a fox, during—”

“I’m relatively certain I said ‘fuck.’ Sorry to offend your delicate senses,” she says somewhat defensively, rolling off of him. 

He turns toward her, laying a reassuring hand on her bare hip. 

“I’m not offended, Diana, I was just wondering—”

“Goodnight, Jeff. I have work in the morning, I need to get to sleep, if you don’t mind,” she says in a clipped tone. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Goodnight.”

He waits for her to turn her face towards his so he can kiss her goodnight, but she keeps her back to him. He presses his lips to the curve of her shoulder, lingering there as a confusing mix of emotions swirl around in his chest. 

The life he has. The life he sometimes thinks he might want. The discrepancy between the two. He wonders why now, all of a sudden, he’s peeking over the fence at possibly greener grasses. Why the life he’s been content with for years suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. 

The rush of the waves fills his ears, calming him. A gull calls out, its shriek carried away on the wind as his toes sink into the sun-warm sand. He spies a child further down the shore, a boy with dirty blond hair building something with a shovel and a bucket. There is a feeling of recognition, a sense of knowing, though he cannot recall the child’s name, nor their relationship to one another. 

A strong wave pushes up beyond the waterline, sweeping across the child’s half-finished project and washing it into an indecipherable mound. The child’s shoulders slump, defeated, so he approaches and calls out to him.

“Oh, hey, buddy. That’s okay, you can build it again.”

He kneels down beside the boy and touches the child’s cheek, brushing an errant grain of sand from his downy skin. There’s something in the child’s eyes, something familiar that makes him feel a swell of affection and protectiveness. 

“Just start again,” he tells the child, reassuringly. 

He jolts awake, his heart racing. Frenchie stands from her bed on the floor, alerted by his sudden movement, and watches him for an indication of what’s next. 

“It’s okay, Frenchie,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands over his face. 

The night is still in full swing, only inky darkness peeking in around the blinds. He looks over at Diana’s sleeping form, her back still turned to him and her breathing even. It feels like only minutes have passed since he fell asleep. 

Wired from adrenaline, he stares at the ceiling and waits for the potential of sleep to return to him. His dream has mostly faded, and he grasps at snippets. The beach, he remembers the beach. 

Just start again.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[kiwibirb1]

Haha so au meetup right? Where I throw all my aus together to have funny conversations? Great Great yeah so my most recent au, the alt version of WV where the Forgers are dead. Mhm you see where I'm going with this?

ToaF girls have joined the gang. Them and WV recognize all the similarities between their adventures (all the Sashas are wondering if this is what would have happened if they hadn't stayed with Grime too now), and start comparing. ToaF were in amphibia for like 2-3 years longer than WV (and also didn't really stay on earth. I'll talk about that later.) Anne's are comparing arm braces, marcys are comparing core possessions, the usual. The Sashas though? They have one key difference. Timing. ToaF brings up Finley, how rambunctious the little kiddo is, how great she is to have around. WV laughs, and mentions Isley, waiting for the other to fill the gap. Silence. "Y'know, Finley's sister?" Oh. ToaF's eyes widen, and she quietly explains the empty snail shell, the destroyed wagon, the remnants left behind. The house, silent but for small whimpers in the basement, a child alone and orphaned by the herons. Oh. WV tightens his grip on the purple sword, a sibling to someone he might have never known.

Yeah. WV is kinda mad at ToaF for a while, because he had gotten there fast enough why couldn't she, and Toaf agrees with them. She had proof now of what haunted her thoughts every night as she watched over her kid, a kid that never should have been hers.

Hehe this has been swirling around my head all day glad I finally typed it out

[tieronecrush]

bestie!!!

for the ask game:

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

HI BB :)))

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

The light bounces off the surface of the water, reflecting in his eyes as you hold his gaze and silence falls over the two of you for a handful of heartbeats. He speaks in a hushed voice as if any louder would shatter the moment, “M’gonna marry you. Gonna give you whatever kind of life you want — a house, babies, I’d move across the world with you if you wanted. Middle of nowhere. Whatever you want, Mari.” A smile grows on your face, droplets littering your face as you match his volume, “The only life I want is one with yours.”

this is from my most recent chapter of h&h and idk i feel so attached to lil moments like this cause they feel genuine to me like such simple expressions of love <3

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

ABSOLUTELY there are so many but some highlights would be tumblr wise: YOU EL @swiftispunk @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @atinylittlepain and so so many more

non-tumblr wise, i would aspire to write something like elif batuman's the idiot, v.e. schwab's the invisible life of addie larue, lily king's writers & lovers, sally rooney's normal people, and of course, i love the classics from jane austen & charlotte bronte & love sylvia plath

a big influence is stories that feel like incredible representations of real life and i can feel what the characters are feeling

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

oh god..........idk there's not a lot that i won't give a shot but i am not a fan of the inexperienced reader who has NO CLUE about anything cause that is just a sure fire way to take me out of the story cause in today's day and age, even if you're sheltered, you're still gonna learn or be exposed to sex

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

you are included in this list and i have told you all the time but i am always in awe of how you build your fics and include such poetic language and also make me go insane cause i fall in love with your characters so quickly. let my barbies marcie and jo kith <3

@swiftispunk -- han is such an incredible writer and makes me want to be better and was my first friend on here and encouraged me to write and i love her so much!!! always and forever a favorite of mine, i would eat up anything han wrote, fic or not!

@atinylittlepain -- GIN my cousin they are seriously so skilled and so creative in their story ideas and character development is just chef's kiss. again, a writer who inspires me! i am putting my gin cap on for a WIP i have attempting to write something with as much depth and beauty as they put into their writing every time.

@ladamedusoif -- the thoughtfulness in rose's stories is so immaculate, i am always transported into the worlds that she builds. it's careful creation but not fragile in the slightest, i can really dig into her stories and characters.

@whatsnewalycat -- hands down writes fics that should be novels. the amount of times i have sobbed or laughed or yelled out loud while reading aly's stories is concerning. i devour everything they post as soon as it's posted and i have had weeks at a time when i have found myself continually thinking about their stories and characters and certain small choices that have left an impact on me.

ask me a question about my fics!

[tea-plantz]

Hello lovelies! I’m so sorry for my lack of fanfics these last weeks, but I assure you that once it’s summer and all of my final exams are over, I’ll be able to post a lot more!

So I just decided to post this little Marcy drabble, before I continue working on some of my longer requests<3

(I have some reallyyy old requests that I haven’t finished yet, but I’ll get to them I promise)

She/her for the reader

~Marcy Wu x fem!reader

Romantic movies~

I were sitting on my couch with my girlfriend, Marcy. We had been planning a sleepover for such a long time now, and the day had finally come!

“Hey Mar-mar?” I turned to look at her.

“Yeah, N/n?” She responded, looking up at me.

“Could you head over to the kitchen and fetch us some popcorn, while I pick out a movie?” I asked her as I slightly tilted my head to the right.

“Yeah of course! You know what type of movies I like~” Marcy giggling as she pecked my cheek, before standing up and making her way to the kitchen.

I giggled slightly to myself as I watched her walk away. God, she was just so cute sometimes, I sighed lovingly, before remembering that I actually had to find something for us to watch.

After a little bit of a scavenger hunt, I finally found the remote behind a couple of pillows at the very edge of the sofa. I clicked the on button as the TV lights sprung to life, before I started searching for a movie. Maybe ‘Lord of the Rings’? No, we watched that last time. How about ‘The Shining’? No, Marcy is kind of a scaredy-cat, haha. I continued to search a bit more, my eyes skimming through the different covers, as I heard Marcy roaming around in the kitchen, until one particular movie finally caught my attention. ‘From up on poppy hill’, a studio Ghibli movie, and… a romantic movie. I blushed slightly at the thought as I smiled. This is perfect! Marcy loves Ghibli movies and this is a chance for us to have a romantic couple moment! I said to myself with a determinant look on my face. We. Will. Cuddle.

“Hey Y/n!” Marcy suddenly said as she returned with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Marcy!” I said, startled, as I hadn’t herd her coming. “I um.. I picked out a movie!” I said with a nervous smile as Marcy turned to face the TV.

“A love movie?” She looked at me with a small blush covering her features.

“Y-yeah, we can pick out something different if you don’t wanna watch it, I just thought that-“

“Hey hey, it’s ok!” The back haired girl giggled a bit as she calmed me down with a sweet smile.

“I absolutely love that movie and I would love to watch it with you” she said as she looked away from my eyes, slightly smiling.

I sat there in silence as I looked at her, before I captured her in a big bear hug.

“Awwwh sweetie! You really wanna watch a love film with me? Your too cute~” I smirked as I laughed.

Marcy burrowed her face into my chest with a whine, clearly embarrassed, as I laughed even more.

In the end, me and my girlfriend ended up hugging each other close under one of my moms big and fluffy blankets on the couch. Marcy even rested her head on my shoulder as she gave me random fun-facts about the movie from time to time. Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect.

I felt like this little scenario actually turned out really cute! Sorry it’s so short though, but I really need more sleep 🥲

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, April 7

BUFFY: Y'know, I never stopped thinking about you. RILEY: Me neither. All I had in there was this one little part of you. (Gives her bandana piece) BUFFY: It's just the scarf part of me really. RILEY: Sure it is. Just knowing you were out there...that you cared...

~~This Year's Girl~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Pieces by CoffeeHunt (Fanged Four, M)

Research by skargasm (Xander/Spike, T)

Poem: the spark by LiraelClayr007 (Buffy/Spike, T)

Untitled ("big anya problem") by scooby-group-texts (Xander/Anya, not rated, worksafe, posted as an image)

Partly Cloudly, Eclipse 1999 by Saranac (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

First Day by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy, anthology rated PG-13)

Me and My Shadow by Chelle (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Surviving Together, Ch. 17 by ionlylikebadboys (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Something Lost Something Found, Ch. 8 by Safire (Buffy/Spike, R)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 46 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

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[elevenredpandas]

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Fic: on Ao3. Personal fic tag is #fanfic by red pandas. links to each of them below the read-more break.

Idle thoughts and rambling tag is #red panda talking.

Fanfics, sorted by fandom alphabetically

Amphibia

Entwined Tails & Pillow Talk series

Entwined Tails & Pillow Talk — 1700 words

Yunan and Olivia share late-night thoughts and feelings.

2. Mementos and Melancholy — 1100 words

Progress isn't linear. Sometimes small things can tear open old wounds and leave them aching anew. Olivia and Yunan miss Marcy, living and growing up a world away.

3. Lady Olivia Reads a Book — 1200 words

Lady Olivia takes some time for afternoon reading in the backyard of her new home in Wartwood. Absolutely nothing goes wrong, and she is neither embarrassed nor threatened.

A Reunion Ten Years in the Making — 1200 words

Shortly after their ten-year reunion, the trio find themselves in Amphibia once again or; the prologue to a much longer fic that I'll never end up writing

A Slip of the Tongue — 1400 words

Olivia and Yunan turn to greet her. “Hey kid.” “Good evening, Sasha.” “Hey Yuliviaaaaaaaauuugh—” Sasha cringes so hard she gets a headache. OR: Sasha Waybright accidentally calls the newt moms by their ship name and doesn't take it well, the story.

The Scars on Her Heart — 2000 words

Nonlinear experiences of Marcy Wu in the days, months, and years after the events of canon, set in an AU where I hand-wave the destruction of the music box and the trio get to keep visiting Amphibia.

Ducktales 2017

Weblena Week 2019 — 481 words

Wherein Louie gets more than he bargains for.

Weblena Week 2020 — 6900 words

Assorted chapters for WeblenaWeek 2020.

Waking Up In Your Arms Is Different When It's In A Hospital Bed — 2500 words

Sometimes being one half of Weblena means sitting next to a hospital bed and hoping. Sometimes it means being the one in that hospital bed.

Homestuck

Be the Cat-Troll. Survive. — 1300 words

Your name is NEPETA LEIJON, and you are alive. You don't know how. But your heart is still beating and you're still breathing and your head hurts. What if Nepeta got a second chance at avenging Equius? And what if neprezi after?

Little Witch Academia

Everyone Needs More Sleep — 2300 words

Diana can't sleep, Akko takes a nap, and both of them talk about feelings.

Constanze, Adrift in a sea of Lesbians — 2400 words

A collection of one-shots/drabbles/short stories, likely to focus mostly on Constanze (because we need more of her) and Diakko.

Night in the Woods

Migraines are the fucking worst but at least Bea gets a cat nap out of it — 1500 words

“Hi Beabea!” Mae bounds in with her arms in the air. “You excited for—” Bea cringes away from her and she skids to a stop. “Mae, please,” Bea groans out. “I have a migraine, can you not.”

They're working on it, just give them time — 1700 words

Mae and Bea spend an evening out in the cold together, and Mae is a little bit gay for her friend.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

I'll Watch Over You As You Sleep — 1400 words

Catra wakes from a dream that has left her unsettled. She sits awake making heart eyes at her sleeping girlfriend.

Small Saga

Twisted Words at The Twisted Tails — 1100 words

Gwen and Bruce have an argument a heart-to-heart about his failed attempt at setting her up with their traveling companion and favorite angry little guy, Verm.

Saving the Sisters in Solhill — 1900 words

Fighting a wyrm and harvesting its venom just to treat the younger and louder of the tin-head sisters wasn't really a thing Gwen planned on doing with her last day before the Yellow God's arrival, but here she is anyway. Gwen experiences thoughts and feelings while the mousegang are in Solhill.

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Hello, it's me, that one Anon who asked about your thoughts on the trans headcanons for Hunter and the Calamity Trio that one time. How ya doin'?

Anyway, I'm here to say that, the other day, I made a design for Anne in my own OC Universe (with plans to also make designs for Sasha and Marcy in the same setting later on) and wanted to show it to you, so here it is.

I hope you like it. :3

(Left is normal appearance, Right is Calamity Form.) (Also, image has a link to a profile on DeviantArt where more info is explained. Features some small mentions of OC X Canon stuff in a couple places, tho, so I'm warning you about that now in case that rubs ya the wrong way. ^^;) (I also most likely won't show ya those designs for Sasha and Marcy I mentioned, just to prevent myself from being annoying, unless you WANT to see them.)

def see the Omniverse influence.

Tho' Idk if Anne can modify her work shirt like that. A pin is one thing but a whole patch is another. This of course is coming from someone who has a fairly lax work dress-code. The closest I've seen like that is Masha's Non-binary fingernails, plus Anne works in Cali and it'd be in the 2030s so maybe that'd be fine, officially. Other than that, the cracks glowing is a cool effect (so does Sasha and Marcy not have their Calamity powers since this is God-Anne's colors which needs all three gems to activate)

[heart-wit-strength]

I did write a bit of a small drabble for this au once I'd be happy to share :3

Pls know this writing is from 2 years ago so it's nearly not as good lmao

~~

"We've never been in such a bind before, and I thank you for the consideration, Ms. Boonchuy, you really saved the day." Marcy said gratefully as she led the blond woman down the hallway.

"Yeah, of course. No problem." Sasha smiled at her, tucking her hands behind her back. "So...how does this work? Are you gonna pay me up front?"

"I-I don't understand." Marcy blinked.

"Oh y'know…It'd be great if you could pay me right now in cash." Sasha replied, nervously ruffling a hand through her hair.

"Don't worry. We can get to that by the end of the day."

"And when is the end of the day?"

Marcy paused in track, continuing to eye her deadpanned, which almost made Sasha fluster. "3 o'clock. Thought you'd know that."

"Do you mind if I can cut out a bit sooner? I have some other stuff to do." Sasha paused as she saw Marcy giving her a firm look. "I mean-"

"Ms. Boonchuy," Marcy stated, voice firm with authority, the gentle tone vanishing. "This is considered the best elementary school in all of Newtopia. And I hope you understand we have a reason to maintain a strict code for our reputation. I expect you to take this seriously."

Sasha blinked, unsure whether to be jittered or intrigued by her sudden change of attitude, "O-Of course I'm taking this seriously. And you don't have to worry about me, I'm a hard-ass and if a kid misbehaved I'll gladly make them fall in line," she rolled up her sleeve, only for Marcy to immediately cut in.

"Please, no. We don't do anything like that here. Ms. Boonchuy, if you have a problem with any of your students, just send them over to me, and I'll do the disciplining."

"Works for me." Sasha finger gunned with a wink.

Marcy led her into the classroom, the kids who were running around quickly rushed to take a seat at the sight of the principal. "Please take a seat everyone." She announced cheerfully.

"Miss Wu, is that our new teacher?" Ivy sat in the first row and was the first one to speak up.

"I'd like to introduce you to your new substitute teacher. Miss Boonchuy." Sasha slowly walked into the room, giving a stern gaze to each of the kids in the room, some of them looking down or away in discomfort. Marcy sensed the tension and gave them all a pleasant smile before turning to the girl. "Why don't you write your name on the board?"

"Yep, sure. Why not?" Sasha walked over to the board, grabbing a piece of chalk and began writing her name.

'M-I-S-S B-O-O-O…'

Sasha really wished she had learned better how to spell right now. She couldn't risk the embarrassment of misspelling what was supposed to be her own name in front of the principal. "Y'know what?" She erased the board. "Why don't you just call me miss. B? It's more efficient." Marcy nodded in approval and turned to the students.

"Miss. B has never taught here before so I expect y'all to be on your best behavior." She stated, getting some nods from the kids and turned back to the teacher. "That's all, are there any other questions you've got?"

Sasha stood sloppily with a foot upon the table and gazed at Marcy. "Yeah, dude. When's the lunch?"

Marcy's smile vanished into an annoyed grumble. "The kids just had their lunch." She hissed. "Anything else that you need?"

Sasha scratched the back of her neck and shrugged. "Well, I'm a teacher, all I need are minds to mold." Marcy forced a smile herself and left the room, closing the door behind her. Awkward silence filled the room before Sasha eyes the students and let out a heavy sigh. This was gonna be a handful.

So apparently I had an amphibia school of rock au long ago with Sasha being a jobless rock artist freeloading in Anne's apartment and this close to getting kicked out by the Plantars, impersonates Anne to be a substitute school teacher, falls in love with principal Marcy while teaching the kids rock music in secret

[marxistmanicpixiedreamgrrrl]

The recent rise of AI “art” has made me realise something which is pretty integral to the way I personally experience art & that is that I think art without an artist is no art at all, for pretty pictures or drawings does not art make.

I would personally define art as unconventional ways to express thoughts & feelings & most importantly of all, self-expression. & if there's no self to express, you simply cannot live up to my definition of art.

Importantly, then, I also things we wouldn't conventionally consider art should count, too: Talking, cooking & sewing are to me, for example, all forms of art. & to me, the truer the art is to the artist, the better. I suppose that might be another reason why I feel so iffy about capitalist art, the profit motive disturbs that somewhat.

[saintmurd0ck]

Hello! Congrats on 500! I love reading all that you've written!

For the sleepover, would you possibly be able to do something about Matt's wedding night? I love seeing his soft side :)

hi lovely! first of all i love your profile pic, love to see me charlie & tom <3 and thank you so much for your kind words, my heart is bursting 💖

i would be delighted to write about matt's wedding night, it's great also to take a break from all the intense smut i've been writing hahaha (even tho this has a little bit) 😵‍💫🤭

*flashbacks written in italics

check out my 500 sleepover!

fluff/smut headcanons | matt murdock on his wedding night

it's true what they say about weddings; it goes by in a blur. although he's a little tired, and tipsy from all the reception champagne (okay, it's some sort of sparkling “wine” and yes, you're all at josie's), matt feels like bliss. this day had been a long time coming, and truthfully, matt never thought it'd happen, but of course, that all changed when he met you.

right now, matt's bowtie is undone, shirt a little ruffled, and his skin slightly flushed from the number of drinks foggy's bought for you all. he's riding the high from your little ceremony at the church, presided over by father lantom, with sister maggie, foggy, marci and karen in attendance. you had insisted it be small, with only your chosen family there, and god, it was just perfect.

.

father lantom and sister maggie opted out of the reception, pulling you and matt aside for a small embrace, a meaningful exchange of words. you've never seen the two of them so happy, tears glistening in their eyes as they took in your beautiful dress and matt's expressions of unbridled joy. this was a very significant moment, especially for father lantom; he would always, always worry about matt, but with you, matt would never be alone again.

.

it wouldn't be a wedding reception without speeches, right? and foggy did exactly that, climbing on top of the pool table (at josie's dismay), tapping his tie clip on his whiskey glass, capturing the attention of every patron. in typical foggy fashion, he delivered a speech that embarrassed the hell out of matt, drawing laughter from all corners of the bar, but made sure to wrap it up with a message of endearment, sweet words that you'd cherish for the rest of your life.

and karen? oh, karen. her speech made you and matt cry -- to be fair, you'd expected nothing less -- and it was soon followed by the rising chants of your newfound audience: 'first dance! first dance! first dance!'

so, with the clink of a couple quarters into josie's jukebox machine, completely unaware of what song was about to come on, a little space was cleared for you in the middle. matt took your hand, guiding you into the centre, holding your waist as you nuzzled your face into his neck. the music startled you a little, the upbeat sound of 'god only knows' filling the small space. not what you would've picked for a typical first dance, but you'd take it. as you pressed your lips into matt's, still in your wedding dress by the way, everything fell away around you, and there you were; the two of you. just the two of you.

.

when matt takes you home later that night, carrying you over the threshold of your front door, it's hard to describe the feeling coursing through your veins; the pure, euphoric joy making your heart swell beyond belief.

you lose count of how many times matt calls you 'mrs murdock', the words falling from his lips sweetly at first, then dipping into a tone laced with hunger as he takes his time undoing your dress, the soft thud of the fabric pooling around your ankles music to his ears.

as he finds himself between your legs, his shirt not even completely off yet, he calls you mrs murdock again, before his tongue dives into you.

later, after you've fallen apart on his tongue and his cock more times than you think humanly possible, it's hard to mistake the devotion radiating from him, radiating from who is now your husband.

and, as you lie in his arms, fingers grazing against his wedding ring, you trace over the raised braille dots of your name engraved into the metal.

"how is it that i got so lucky, huh?" matt whispers against your cheek, hands intertwining in yours.

"i ask myself that every day, matt," you hum, kissing his chin.

[waybrights]

may i offer some sats au in this trying time? (as usual it's late so, if u see any spelling mistakes, no u don't <3) enjoy !!

---

as much as sasha complains about it, once they actually start recording, she doesn't mind having to repeat the same verse again and again until its perfect. sure, it's tedious, but she would be lying if she said she hated it. how could she, when anne and marcy are with her, and they're laughing over a quiet joke. she might even consider it fun.

might, being the key word.

"stop it," an angry voice shouts over the intercom. sasha groans, letting her final chord echo around the small booth. "you aren't even trying, none of you are." it would be fun, sasha thinks, if andrias could keep his nose out of it for five minutes.

"we're playing exactly what you gave us," sasha says into her microphone, struggling to swallow the anger rising in her throat.

the man shakes his head, eyes sliding over the three of them from the other side of the glass. "no, you aren't. marcy's behind, and you keep messing up the lyrics," he waves his hand as though that would help get his point across. "anne seems to be the only one who knows what's going on."

behind her, sasha can hear anne shifting in place, a single note drifting through the room. "i don't think it's their fault," she says firmly, pulling the strap of her bass over her head and placing the instrument gently on its stand.

"oh?" andrias raises a single, white brow, eyes narrowing on anne as she steps forward, pressing her arm against sasha's.

"yeah, the music isn't making any sense. it's like a child wrote this stuff," she claims, and sasha hears a snort from marcy. anne picks up the sheets of music on sasha's stand and holds it away from them, turning the page to face the glass, and the men sat behind it. "you can't expect us to play anything substantial when it's hardly legible," then, as though it would help calm the rising tension, she adds, "from a musical perspective, of course."

the booth goes silent, a static filling the intercom as andrias turns from them and starts talking to one of the producers. sasha doesn't bother trying to guess what they're saying, instead taking off her guitar and turning to marcy, still sitting at her drum kit with a small smile on her face.

"you finding this funny, mars?" sasha asks as she walks over, sitting down on the raised platform.

"a little," marcy giggles, leaning her chin on her upturned palm. "also a little annoying," she whispers as an after thought.

sighing, sasha leans her head against marcy’s leg, watching anne pace and fiddle with her bracelet. "yeah, i get that."

"it feels like nothing we ever do is good enough," she says after a while. "no matter how long we play for, or how much new music we write, it's never right."

she sounds so tired, and all sasha wants to do is pull them into her arms and make sure they never feel this way again, but she doesn't. sasha just takes marcy's hand and squeezes it as tightly as she can. "they'll see one day, mars. they'll see just how hard we work, how hard you work, for this to happen."

"you sound so sure about that," marcy mumbles, tapping her fingers against the back of sasha’s hand.

"i am." sasha nods, pulling her eyes off anne to smile up at marcy. "i'll make sure they know. promise!"

marcy looks unsure, as though she doesn't believe that this could change, that one day they aren't arguing over music they never even wrote. but sasha swear to herself in the moment, that no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, she'll make sure that one day, marcy and anne are happy, doing what they want to be doing.

anne joins them after another ten minutes of pacing, flopping down next to sasha and dropping her head into her lap as she lets out, what could be, the worlds longest sigh.

"we'll get through this, girls," anne mutters as her eyes flutter. "together."