#a vision from wiggly himself

[incorrecthatchetfield]

[runninriot]

Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

thank you @just-my-latest-hyperfixation for the tag! 🖤

today's brain worms are brought to you by one of the steddie smutty september prompts 😏

i'm thinking about Eddie who lost a bet to his boyfriend and is now getting ready to pay up. Or at least he's trying to. Because he's still not sure he can really pull it off.

He keeps turning from left to right, sceptically looking at his reflection in the mirror.

God, he looks ridiculous, doesn't he. This stuff isn't made for him. It's for people with less boney asses. People with more meat on them and with defined muscles they can show off. Pretty people, whose perfect bodies would shine covered in black lace.

Eddie just looks... wrong. Like he's trying to be something he's not.

The dainty floral pattern is a harsh contrast to the crooked lines adorning his skin - too soft, too delicate, enhancing all his little flaws and blemishes rather than fulfilling the purpose of making him feel good. That's why people usually choose to wear these things, right? To feel hot and pretty and confident.

Well. He definitely doesn't.

At least Steve will get a good laugh out if it. That's probably why he thought of the punishment in the first place. Not necessarily to make fun of Eddie, he's not that mean. But- whatever.

A bet is a bet, and he lost, so he'll suck it up and get it over with.

He's got a one-man-crowd waiting for him in the bedroom and the sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner Eddie can get out of this fucking lingerie.

Meanwhile, Steve's buzzing with anticipation. He's been sitting on the bed for what feels like hours, waiting for Eddie to finally come out of the bathroom.

He's been dreaming about this forever, literally. It's a secret fantasy he's had ever since Eddie and him started dating, since they started exploring each other's bodies in the most intimate ways.

To see Eddie's perfect body covered in lacy lingerie, to let his fingers dance over the soft fabric, gently caressing what's underneath, mouthing at his cock through his panties just to tease, just rile him up - God, what a vision. What a thought. And soon, so soon, it'll become reality.

Steve's hard just from imagining it. Can barely keep his hands to himself at the dirty thoughts looping in his mind.

He needs to see it. Needs Eddie to come out right now or he'll combust.

And then, finally, Eddie does. Slowly opens the bedroom door before he hesitantly steps in. And he's even more beautiful than Steve could ever have imagined.

Standing there, all shy and pretty, with his cheeks tinted pink and his arms crossed before his chest, looking so... so perfect.

   "Fuck," is all Steve can get out. Too stunned, too lost in the vision his boyfriend is.

    "It's okay, Steve. You can laugh. I know I look stupid."

Suddenly, Steve notices that what he thought was Eddie just being a bit shy is actually him being uncomfortable. That the way he tries to hide his body behind his own arms is not him acting coy, it's him being ashamed.

    Oh, hell no.

That just won't do. That's not at all what Steve had intended.

Luckily, he knows just how to turn this around.

(i'll stop right here before it gets even more out of hand 😅 to be continued)

no pressure, all love @novemberthorne @morningberriesao3 @pennyplainknits @steddieas-shegoes @matchingbatbites

@ataliagold @wynnyfryd @queenie-ofthe-void @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll

[mystifyinghatchetfieldtheories]

The Lords in Black puppeteered the entire plot of Nerdy Prudes Must Die

In Yellow Jacket, Pokey's psychic vision to Hannah sets off the chain of events that leads her to Otho. Similarly, the vision Tinky shows Ted in Time Bastard puts Jenny in the front of his mind, which causes him to try and change the past once he figures out that his office is a time machine. It's pretty clear that Grace Chasity is perceptive to psychic visions since she sees Richie's death in a dream (plus her proficiency with the Black Book implies that she may have a touch of the Gift). Additionally, the "Dirty Girl" scene features enough coincidences that it seems like more than just a sexual fantasy. She has no way of knowing that Max Jagerman is christian, yet she predicts it almost perfectly. This is evidence that she received a vision from the Lords in Black of Max in her bathroom.

Grace envisioning Max in this way causes her to seek vengeance, which leads to Max actually getting killed and then subsequently resurrected in ghost form. The ultimate result of her vision, however is that the Lords in Black get to devour Max's soul, and Grace becomes corrupted and turned into their disciple. Both of these directly serve the Lords in Black's desires. The lyric "Nibbly wants his sacrifice and Wiggly wants his wrath," which stands out due to its choice to only mention two of the Lords, highlights this, since Nibbly wants Max sacrificed to him and Wiggly wants Grace's wrath (which is the inevitable result of her character arc in every timeline we've seen her in so far). Nibbly is even the one who specifically states that he wants to lick Max's soul.

But why Max Jagerman of all people? It's because he, many times throughout the play, refers to himself as a god. This is someone who has the power to single-handedly control the social order of an entire high school. Everyone hates him, but they're all too scared to challenge him. Even the other popular kids! Max's power goes beyond the scope of a typical cliche high school bully, because he casts his peers into roles. He chooses who are the nerds and who are the jocks. He micromanages everyone's social lives. He is literally playing god. In other words, Max Jagerman is someone the Lords in Black would view as a threat.

Grace refers to Max Jagerman's death as "an act of god," and she isn't wrong. The Lords in Black send her the vision so she'll cause his death. They're also likely responsible for several other convenient occurrences, such as Waylon Hall, which is widely known to be haunted and therefore likely only of interest to the Church of the Starry Children, who worship the Lords in Black, being sold so soon after Max's body is hidden inside. They're likely counting on Max killing Richie and Ruth first, so that Grace is the only person who can step in when neither Pete nor Steph kills the other one successfully. When she gives up her chastity, she's killed two birds with one stone by giving Max's soul to the Lords in Black and becoming fully corrupted herself, which is even symbolized by the visual gag of her smoking a cigarette right after she and Max have sex. Grace ends the show as a pawn of the Lords in Black, but she has no idea she's been one the entire time.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Cryptid Biology Season 2: Something Special

[Previous entry in this series: Here. The ghouls participate in a time honored tradition in celebration of the summer solstice... or Dew has an encounter with Special in the woods.] Below the cut.

Dew can feel his heart beating in his chest as he runs through the darkness, ducking and weaving to avoid branches and thorn bushes that appear just inches away from him before disappearing into the black surrounding him.

He curses, feeling his muscles scream at him to slow down, to stop, but if he does, he'll get caught.

Breathing heavily, Dew stumbles over a root, but manages to keep his footing... only to trip and fall over the next one, landing upon the ground with a heavy thud that would hurt a whole heck of a lot more if not for the bed of decaying leaves on the forest floor.

He groans and attempts to scramble to his feet, but when a boot against his back keeps him from rising right away, he relents, flopping back down with an angry huff.

"First you failed to outrun me during the Imbolc hunt, then you ran into me at the one for Ostara, and don't get me started on that pathetic attempt to hide from me during Beltane... and now here we are again." the ghoul above him chuckles, eyes glowing red, face just barely visible with Dew's lackluster night vision, "I think you're getting in my way on purpose, Tadpole."

"Stop calling me that, Special, you prick..." Dew grits out, "Maybe you're the one chasing after me, huh?"

Special hums and grinds his foot down.

"Mn, no, I don't think so." he says, crouching down, "I'm not much of a hunter, you see, I've always been more of a scavenger; I take what the others leave behind, so normally I'd wait and see who's left..."

He moves to press his knee into Dew's back, applying more pressure as he leans forward to whisper into his ear, "You're too much work, so for me to catch you, either nobody wanted you this time, or you're deliberately making it easy for me, because after our first encounter, you've been aching for more..."

Special brushes the hair from his neck and presses a kiss there, "...Haven't you?"

"Shut-" Dew starts to shout, but can't as Special's jaws lock onto his nape, it stings, both from the act itself, and from the toxin dribbling into his wounds from the ghoul's mouth, "Uh-huunh..."

"There's a good boy." Special coos, licking Dew's blood from his lips, swiping his tongue over his teeth for good measure, "Feels better than when a quint fucks your mind, doesn't it? I know it does... It's such an instant relief."

His hand comes down the massage the wound, grinning as the skin heals over from his touch, while also aiding in spreading the venom faster.

"There we go..." he says, finally lifting himself from Dew's body and flipping him over onto his back, "Well, look at you~"

Dew's whole body feels flush, and his breathing has yet to settle from his mad dash through the forest, so he has to look like a sweaty mess, but Special doesn't seem to agree, reaching down to cup his cheeks with his hands, shaking his head teasingly back and forth.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" he grins, then pats his face lightly, "Hm, guess we should get this show on the road then, huh?"

Dew mumbles something and raises his arms slowly, wiggling his fingers, and Special blinks at him for a moment before snorting, "Oh, poor baby, can't take your shirt off yourself? You need me to do it for you?"

"Feeeel allll... wiggly..." Dew supplies unhelpfully, giggling as Special hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid movement, "Umph!"

"The venom's making you a little silly, isn't it?" Special squishes Dew's face again as he wads up his shirt and tucks it under his head, "That's good, you always seem so uptight..."

He spreads his fingers over his chest, thumbs poised beneath his nipples, "You know..."

"Most people come to these hunts so they can do nasty, freaky things in the woods without consequence." he says, teasing the small bud, "But you, and pardon the joke, are something special, huh?"

"You just wanna be loved.... adored, taken care of..."

Dew mewls as Special descends to nibble at his neck again, fingers rolling his nipples around in soft, slow motions.

"Are they not treating you right, sweet thing? Hm?" Special asks, "Should I talk to that water ghoul you like so much and tell him he doesn't need to be rough?"

"I like... I like rough..." Dew replies meekly, eyes shutting, "S'okay..."

Special makes a disappointed little noise and pulls back.

"You know I don't like liars, Dewdrop." he chastises, "But if that's what you want-"

Dew's eyes widen as Special's hand begins to wrap around his neck.

"Do you want this?" he asks, applying pressure to his throat, "Or do you want me to treat you like you really want?"

Dew groans and kicks his legs slightly, squirming under his grasp.

"Want-"

"Yes?"

"...Don't wanna say it..."

Special pouts.

"But I want to hear it, c'mon, baby, when you're with me, what's your name, huh? How do I treat you?"

"Pri..."

"Yes~?"

"You're a prick." Dew cackles, and Special sits back, rolling his eyes.

"You may be easy to catch, but you're hard to break, I'll give you that." He sighs, "But I'll be damned again if I don't love picking you apart."

"Hehe~"

The multi-ghoul slides down and begins undoing Dew's pants, but the zipper refuses to open and he gives a frustrated noise.

"Just pull 'em off..." Dew says, struggling to move his legs around from under Special's body.

"I have a better idea-" The ghoul tugs Dew's pants down to about mid thigh and leaves them like that, the dense, folded over fabric restricting his movements, "-that's much better."

Dew wriggles, trying to slide them down further, but he can't get the leverage and gives a defeated hiss.

"I could just..." Special pushes his legs back towards his chest, "Yeah, I can work with this."

"H-Hey now-"

Special cranes his neck at him, "What? Suddenly you're embarr-Oh. Oh-ho-ho-ho~"

Dew's ears have flicked back, the tips almost as red as his face.

"What do you think? Should I take you like this, or perhaps I should lay you on your side? What is my princess thinking now, hm~?"

"Just-"

A stick snaps and Dew goes stone stiff, whereas Special lowers himself over his body, territorial, a growl emanating from his throat, wholly unexpected from such a usually jovial, prankster type like him.

What or whoever was approaching seems to get the hint and approaches no further, but the ghoul above him remains locked in his protective stance, glaring out into the darkness.

After a minute passes, Dew can finally hear the sound of retreating footsteps, and not even a second later, he feels something prodding at his entrance, causing him to tense and squeak.

"How annoying..." Special mutters, hastily working Dew open, not giving him any time to adjust, forcing a series of involuntary chatters and chirps to escape his mouth, "We'll have to rush things a bit now, I'm sorry."

"Who was-" Dew tries to lift himself up to look around, but Special pushes him back down, "Hey-"

Special clicks his tongue.

"Humans."

Dew furrows his brow.

"The siblings-"

"Not them." Special hisses, then tilts his head back, letting out an annoyed groan, "Dammit..."

"Then who? The gardener-"

"Outsiders."

Dew forces himself up onto his elbows, wobbling as Special helps him tug his pants back up.

"Careful now, don't want you falling down again..." Special chides, wrapping his arm around his waist as they stand, "...Fucking, of course, those bastards would sneak around on a night like this... I bet they're running back to the other side of the lake now."

"We should go after them-" Dew starts, but the second he tries to pull away from Special, his head starts swimming, "-Fuck, Phil, how much venom did you give me??"

"I wasn't expecting our little rendezvous to be interrupted by a pack of mortal morons, so I gave you a little more than last time..." he pinches his brow, "We'll have to inform the other-"

A loud cracking sound startles them both, making Dew stumble, but he is quickly captured by Special, who narrows his eyes in the direction of the noise.

"Do you think that was the trespassers or..."

A second, louder crack echoes through the woods followed by a chorus of human screams.

Dew cringes and Special begins to make a clicking sound, a common distress noise among ghouls, neither of them is sure what's going on at this point, and the lack of any other sound once a third crack sounds sounds has them both on edge, until...

"You better run, you fuckin' little shits! I have more where that came from!"

"...Bea, I think they got the point, put the bb gun down-"

...Ah.

Mountain heaves a heavy sigh, taking the gun from the gardener, who looks positively miffed, even in the lowlight cast by the lantern in the earth ghouls other hand.

"Give that back-" the hotheaded woman starts, but instead of giving her back the gun, Mountain scoops her up and jostles her around a bit before tossing her over his shoulder and lumbering back off into the forest, "YOU BITCH!"

Special and Dew watch the retreating pair in silence, looking at each other after the two are gone from sight again.

"...I'm getting too old for this..." They both sigh in unison.

"Still though, how did they get passed the barricades?" Dew wonders aloud and Special shrugs.

"They could have swam to this shore for all we know." he remarks, "It's happened before, so I expect the next budget meeting will involve putting something in place to prevent this from happening again..."

"We can't just magic some shit in place?" Dew questions, "Like with the woods along the main road?"

"People getting turned around in the woods is one thing, because they usually make their way back out, if we turn them around in the water, they could drown..." Special reasons, adjusting his grip on Dew, "...Not that they wouldn't deserve it with all the signs we have posted about these kinds of things. They've probably learned their lesson for now."

Dew hums.

"...So."

"So?"

"...Now that they're gone-"

"Yes?"

"...You know what I'm thinking?"

Special looks him up and down.

"...That we should track them down and eat their bones?"

Dew pinches the bridge of his nose.

"No, I-"

"-want to get railed within an inch of your life to make up for that frankly unnecessary distraction?"

"...You really are a prick."

"And you happen to like them very much, so it's a win-win situation for us all, isn't it?"

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

[[BODY MUTILATION, BODY HORROR, ABUSIVE PARENTING]]

Hooves legs ache as they clack toward nowhere. There is no silence this time, instead it’s echoed by faint screams he can almost place. Meaning there’s someone else here.

Wig-Wiggly!?

There is no other word for what T’noy Karaxis feels: weak. The persistent burn in his bones has only spread as his head fogs. That doesn’t mean he stops running. Yellow fizzles past his clouded eyes to something brighter and harsher. There’s no harm in trying for freedom, even if there is nothing past these walls. ‘Harm’ does not include the sickness beating through him like it always has. Tinky’s hands, pocked with age spots, twitch coldly. He almost trips over himself, eyes darting around for anything of a different shade. There was only one rule: never stay in the same spot. Whatever can be done should.

Blinky!?

He’s at the dead end he always ends up reaching. Stopping once means he might not get up again - Tinky tries to grip the wall clumsily with feeble fingers. Metal gushes into his mouth as he absently opens his mouth to let it flow out, stark against the yellow floor. Nails scratch and, as they do so, each one chips. Karaxis doesn’t stop, getting hysterical. His nailbeds bleed at the strain of separation. With a jerk, his thumbnail clatters to the floor. The exposed skin burns, but he doesn’t notice. The cracks along the rest of his nails make sure they don’t go as quickly, rooting deep into his palm with electric shudders. Every breath is a stab to each lung. Frantic in his escape plan, Tinky doesn’t hear footsteps.

“You.”

T’noy staggers around to come face to face with his favorite toy. Teddy Bear grins without enjoyment.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You fucking bastard.”

Aware of how frail he feels, Tinky backs into the corner while baring his teeth. Ted steps closer, eyes shining. T’noy did not directly interact with his Boxed victims often, and he would have been elated in any other context.

“I’m going to have so much fun, Tinker-Toy.”

There is something wrong with his grin - it's usually lopsided, with a dimple Ted’s hated since childhood. Even with his waning vision, this wasn’t right. Before Karaxis can focus on anything clearly, a shiny flash almost blinds him. In Ted’s hands is a length of piano wire. He shouldn’t have that. Tinky designed the Box so that-

T-Tinker-Toy? You’ve never…

Ted’s grin never slips - his imposing figure steps in closer, cornering his tormentor. The wire gets spun around in his fingers casually.

“Goats don’t have fingers, silly wiwwle Tinky~.”

His eyes were brown, not…

“I’m sure you miss ‘em. Your hooves. Huh?”

His tone is light. With nowhere to run, not that his legs would let him, Karaxis stares at the wire wrapping around his ring finger. But this wasn’t how things went - if his Box worked like it should or if he wasn’t just a human, he wouldn’t-

“Aw, don’t cry, little guy! I’ll save your middle finger, how’s that?”

He wheezes a barking laugh. The screams are no longer there. Prickles and needles dance on T’noy’s finger as blood beads against the wire. It’s pulling too tight to simply slide his hand away. T’noy Karaxis begs.

T-Teddsy - Ted - Spankoffski. Don’t!

Ted laughs again, and it doesn’t belong to him, A hot shock burns through Tinky’s finger and palm as the wire meets resistance.

“Like a child begging for salvation.

Bones crack as Theodore’s figure shrinks away. In his place, towering over T’noy Karaxis, is a hulking blur of shining feathers. They have no set color, switching from glints of purple to glints of pink, blue, green, orange. The skull on top of the feather cloak, unblinking, is that of a goat’s, with twisting horns and jutting teeth caked with rot and bloodied flesh. Its - His - eye sockets shine with something inside, far from hollow. Pupilless and apathetic, reflective and compound. Like thousands of cameras, they settle on their target like flies to a corpse. Perpetually watching.

After all my corrections, you are still disobedient.

Tentacles squirm quicker than before from feathered tips. He does not move.

…F-F-

You need say nothing. I apologize for my dirty trick.

T’noy scrambles back further, but the wall prevents escape. He shakes his head harshly, ears ringing.

This could not happen otherwise.

N…No-

He lifts His head higher.

…’No’.

Tinky shakes his head again, neck aching. He cannot move. The figure leans forward, eyes rotating.

Even now? Agitated about a talk?

Cold tentacles slide over his cheek, pulling gently, startling in contrast to his temperature. They leave behind glowing blue muck.

You were always so quiet after the Box. Why did it ever stop?

He cocks His head to one side, though there is no expectation for answers. Tinky’s throat tightens as his mouth breathes out too harshly. Everything blistered, but only His presence was piercing. Regardless, there was an answer; one that he swears is there.

S-

His voice is high and garbled, but he forces his lungs to get air in as he stammers.

S-sib-li-siblings.

There is quiet where he believes he’s won. The flame sizzles on his skin. He says nothing; the air is heavy with copper. Then, voice low,

What siblings? I don’t recall making any others. Certainly not for you.

There are no names to bring up, with no memories to think of. There is nothing. Blankness ranging millennia.

W-

T’noy mouths something; it might be a name or it might be a plea, but either way he can’t get the word out.

Little fake things to keep you company…how can I expect power from a future Lord who hallucinates?

Tinky whines, the guttural noise tearing through his dry throat. No one else was supposed to be in the Box. This was his punishment alone. Just his.

Your time here is getting to you, Bastard. But somehow you’re still useful. Relieving…isn’t it?

Here - the Box. Karaxis knew it well. Its maze twisted every second with rich yellow dousing every corner. Constantly spinning and weaving through itself like a…

W-Webby-

He chokes as hot blood overwhelms his senses, letting it fall down his chin.

What, this?

His tentacles wiggle around a tiny white spider. It zooms around the tight confinement desperately without glowing. Tinky inhales sharply, trailing its movements. His foot falls an inch forward as he wants nothing more than to get it away from Him.

W~Web-

The cage gets smaller. The spider spasms, bloated with blood. Its legs kick once pathetically before they go limp with a spurt of blue-tinted gore. The crushed thing is dropped, dead.

Pests. You know that, I expect.

Karaxis’ stomach churns as he keeps looking at her.

Y-ou ki…

Like a clock that doesn’t tick.

You act horrified. Did I do something wrong?

The corpse disappears under the myriad of feathers. Tinky can’t move further.

It’s like how you play with your replacement - I thought you would like that.

Colors fill his eyes. T’noy doesn’t reach as high as what would be His chest, lacking the strength to look up. His heart pounds in his ears.

 You were always so sensitive. A complainer and a coward. I have naught for cowards. Too weak for godhood. Look, you’ve already hurt yourself.

T’noy Karaxis crumples to the floor in a heap, hitting the ground with a thwack. Ice swallows each molecule in his sweltering body. He sees no yellow or colors, just white as his eyes roll back in their sockets. He jerks up, stiff, skin blistering and boiling under his clothing.

Pity.

The wall keeping Karaxis shifts away. Incoherent, he falls onto his back. It lights up with stabbing pain as he sobs.

They will be sorely disappointed. How will you help them? Stupid, stumbling, creature.

There’s creaking as hot breath makes his face scrunch.

Shoo.

The word is a gunshot. Scrambling away, ignoring the excruciating agony as his limbs sting, Tinky flings himself into the maze pathway. Completely blind, groping with bleeding fingers, he can only reach for obstacles.

Hff…hff - nghk-

Nothing gives chase. A low and penetrating hum blares in his ears as a warm stickiness spreads down Tinky’s forehead. He blinks his sight back. It teeters between white and black, catching yellow flashes. A cough brings up something warm and bitter.

Your town is a rotting poison. At its roots it twists into a shrewd picture. Did you think they worried about your absence? There is no difference - you are mine.

He speeds up his crawl after seeing lights shining from the end of the hall. They blink brightly, multicolored. He’s in marginally less pain.

Ah-ah~.

A thin, cold, sharp thing eases in between two ribs with a squelch. Karaxis shudders, gasping, as warmth seeps below him. His chest heaves through a punctured lung with gritted moans. His tone rises, booming.

Ungrateful. Do you understand the PRIVILEGE I’ve given you? The CONTROL I can rip away if I wish? You’ve seen it already. Ask that trifle of yours.

N~o…P-ea-

His brain melts against all logic. Blood drags on the floor behind his decomposing form, already long dried. Teeth loosen with no choice but to fall out of thin gums. As everything clouds, His voice rings in Tinky’s head.

Go back to your brothers. Tell them how good of a protector you were.

[rusted-skull]

Continuation of post from yesterday about the guys.

T'noy Karaxis my beloved. Ok so Tinky's design from NPMD really bugged me, I liked all of the separate bits of it but together it wasn't amazing. Still good, just not amazing. So I took elements of it like the goggles, kept those, and then made my own shit up. Firstly, every outfit he shows up in is from a different time period, usually some kind of transport uniform or suit, like a train driver from when trains were first around, stuff like that, or his clothes directly related to whatever he was up to. In the episode he first emerged by twisting Wilbur Cross's bones into the shape of a saytr and busting a goat head through his head. Yes it was gross. Yes I love Wilbur Cross and yes he was doing as he does and serving the Lords in Black. Tinky also showed up in an army uniform when offering someone a little time twisting opportunity in exchange for loyalty. Amaris or Jeb if you're reading this, I'm not talking about you.

Pokey is a little silly. So Pokey only appeared using his face once, usually he just takes other people's voices and makes them his own, at least in the vision setting. In the actual episode he primarily used one of the party members as his host and used her attacks to fight the rest of the party. In visions whenever he appears as himself (himself being the NPMD design) he is always accompanied by the image of a parent or someone else the character knows but altered to be infected. I did this because narcissist only appears as himself when he knows it's safe so he wouldn't appear in reality facing a bunch of strong opponents who have already "beaten" (wink wonk) his three of his brothers.

If anyone has any questions about the Hatchetfield au please ask I need to explode this information through my eyeballs. I can't do wiggly yet cause they haven't actually fought him proper.

[calpalirwin]

Addicted to Sound

Summary: When a classic violinist clashes with a rock drummer, things are bound to be messy.

Word Count: 2.7k

And away, and away we go!

__

Dean was more than surprised to find a car already in the parking lot of Fowler’s Strings when he arrived. And his surprise turned to curiosity when he didn’t recognize the vehicle despite the man sitting at the wheel looking vaguely familiar. He shook off the feeling, chalking it up to another generic pretty white boy face, slipping back into his normal demeanor. 

The man in the car didn’t move as Dean tucked his motorcycle helmet under his left arm, right hand going for a set of keys clipped to the side of his backpack. Only after Dean unlocked the building to let himself in did the man in the car start to move to get out. 

“Morning, what can I help you with?” Dean called out to the man when he finally made his way inside the building. 

“You’re not Dean Fowler by any chance are you?”

He stiffened ever so slightly as he set his backpack down behind his desk and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “That would depend on who’s asking,” Dean answered cautiously. 

The man gave a small, almost apologetic laugh. “Sorry. I, um… my band… well management really…” he loosed a sigh, frustrated with himself for fumbling with words like an idiot. “My band is doing a show, and my management hired your company as part of the vision we had for this show.”

“Ah,” Dean said knowingly. “So you wanted to come and do your own research. Make sure we’re up to your standards.”

“Heh,” the man ducked his head. “Well in part, yes. But also… and I’m aware of how absurd this will sound. But I used to know someone named Dean Fowler back when I was a kid. And part of me is curious if it’s the same Dean Fowler.”

“Well, yes I’m Dean. However, I didn’t grow up here, so I’m sure it’s just a mere coincidence.”

“I didn’t grow up here either. I’m Ashton. Irwin, if that helps jog your memory any.”

Much to Dean’s dismay it did. A flash of a scrawny boy with a straightened blond fringe. Then more flashes, some good, some worse, of memories spent with that boy. Dean blinked, the flashes fading and in its place stood Ashton as he was now. Scrawny frame filled out with broad muscle. Blonde fringe replaced with soft brown curls. And his face, even more handsome in adulthood with stubble now decorating that strong jaw. “Well… we’re both a long way from home, huh?”

Ashton laughed. “Yeah. Yeah I guess you could say that.” A large hand rose to rub at the back of his neck. “So…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Dean cut in. “We don’t have to do whatever this,” he waved a hand in a vague gesture, “is. Let’s agree to leave what happened when we were kids in the past where it belongs. I know I’ve changed since then. You’ve…” another vague hand gesture at Ashton’s body “clearly changed a lot as well. So let’s just attend to the matter at hand, and take it from there.”

Ashton’s face fell for a fraction of a second before he nodded. “Yeah. That’s… yeah.”

Dean loosed a sigh. He didn’t want to come off as dick. But he wasn’t exactly inclined to walk down memory lane with Ashton either. What was so wrong with wanting to do the job at hand and then go back to forgetting about his former friend turned lover turned stranger? “I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean started to amend, “I only meant that we could have a clean slate. Start fresh, or whatever.”

Ashton merely nodded again, slowly turning over the words in his head. “Yeah, makes sense. But damn, I must’ve played this out a million times in my head about what I would say or do if I walked in here and it was actually you. And…” his voice trailed off in a huff of breath. “I dunno,” Ashton’s shoulders shrugged. “It probably doesn’t mean a whole lot, and it’s way overdue, but I am sorry for how things were before.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth pulled up slightly in a sad half smile. “Yeah. Me too, Ash, me too. Um…” Dean drummed his fingers on his desk, wiggling his mouse to wake up his computer. His tongue clicked in his mouth, making idle noise to pass the time as he pulled up a file on the screen. “Okay, so it looks like your management sent the set list. Did they send the…” another click had another file opening up. “Perfect. Okay, so,” Dean’s eyes lifted from the computer to Ashton, “my team and I are gonna look this over and see what we can do with it. Then we’ll bring you guys so we can hash out any other details or deal with any changes, and then we can start rehearsals. Any questions?”

“How long do you think it will take your team to come up with your additions?”

Dean clicked his tongue some more in thought. “Like a week tops, hopefully. I’ll keep your management up to date.”

“So I’m supposed to sit on my ass and do what exactly? Hope you’ll call me?”

It took everything in Dean’s power to remain professional. “No, of course not. You’re in London. Enjoy it. Do literally anything that will keep your mind off of me calling you. Because, I’ll grant you the courtesy of informing you now. I won’t be calling you. I’ll be calling your management.”

Ashton drummed his fingers against his thighs, blowing out a huff of air slowly, no doubt trying to ignore the obvious phone call dig. “Fine. Just, uh, try not to keep us waiting too long, Fowler. The venue only gave us a handful of dates so the sooner we can lock one in, the better.”

“Keep you waiting? Wouldn’t dream of it, Irwin,” Dean smiled sweetly.

~~~

Dean felt his temper rising with each second that ticked by on the clock. Tick! He’s not coming. Tock! Why did he think he would?

So when his phone finally did ring, shattering the silence, Dean all but jumped out his own skin before answering. “About time,” he said, doing his best to keep his irritation out of his voice.

“I know. I messed up. I’m sorry. I’m on my way though, okay. Just… like gimme five more minutes. Please?” Ashton’s voice replied, rushed rather than apologetic.

“Don’t bother. Just do whatever you want. I’m done.”

“What?”

Even Dean faltered for a second, unsure of what he was saying. “I— You— You promised me, Ash. You swore this wasn’t gonna change anything between us. That we were still gonna be us. And sure, at the time, you probably meant every word. But…” he sniffed as a tear slid down his nose. “I can’t keep putting my life on pause for you.”

“I never asked you to.”

“I know, but—”

“But what, Dean?! You can’t handle not being the only important thing in my life?! I have a future to think about here!”

“A future that doesn’t include me.”

“What are you saying?” The question came out broken and horrified.

“I’m saying— I love you, okay? So much that I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to stop. But I can’t keep waiting for you to love me back.”

“I do love you! I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t.”

“But you’re not with me, Ash! Maybe emotionally. But physically and mentally, you left me a long time ago.”

“Dean, please!”

“Don’t call me.”

“Dean!”

The line went dead. And by the time Ashton made it to their meet up spot, Dean was nowhere to be found.

~~~

Aside from the ending, Dean had been one of Ashton’s better relationships. Carefree, easy days playing music and doing homework together. A million little moments that turned into shy confessions and led to kissing in the back row at the movies and promises of forever. A promise Ashton intended to keep, right up until he didn’t.

Ashton shook the thoughts from his head. Replaying a relationship that had ended over a decade ago wasn’t gonna do him any good. And yet, he couldn’t help it. Walking into that studio and seeing Dean again, different but somehow still the same, had opened up the memories whether Ashton wanted it or not.

He didn’t fault Dean for breaking things off, not back then and certainly not now. They hadn’t been anything more than kids. And life seemed to had been kind to both of them since then. Could a clean slate lead to a new chance? One that Ashton wouldn’t fuck up this time. Or had Dean meant a clean slate in that he wanted to treat this strictly as a professional relationship, get the job done, and go back to forgetting Ashton? He supposed in some part it didn’t matter. That sitting here, spinning through all the what ifs was a giant waste of time. But he somehow found himself focusing on the words “I love you, okay? So much that I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to stop,” and wondering if that was still true. And if it was still true, what did that mean for them now that they had each grown up a little bit more? And if it wasn’t true…

Ashton shook his head again.

~~~

“A band? Like an actual band?” Dean asked skeptically.

Ashton’s eyes shifted to study the ground. “Yeah. I mean they play shows and stuff. Nothing big yet. But who knows, you know? Maybe one day…”

“Maybe one day you guys will be huge stars and I’ll be…” 

“Hopefully right there with me?” Ashton asked, lifting his gaze to meet Dean’s, teeth nipping into his lower lip. 

Dean just arched an eyebrow. “You would want that?”

Ashton gripped Dean’s hands in his tightly. “Of course I do! What?” Ashton laughed. “You think I would choose anything for my life that didn’t include you? Dean, I love you. And anything this world is gonna be crazy enough to throw at me, I want you right there with me.”

Dean allowed himself a smile, to fully believe in what Ashton was telling him. “It’ll always be us?”

“Always. Promise.”

~~~

Dean rubbed his eyes. It had been a foolish promise. One he had willed himself to believe in at the time because what was the alternative when you were seventeen and in love?

It hadn’t all been Ashton’s fault. Dean had been just as idyllic about the thought of spending forever with Ashton, chasing music dream after music dream together. Until the doubt and insecurities became too much to handle and he ran. So no, it hadn’t all been Ashton’s fault, because it was never his fault at all. Ashton would have continued to fight for them until his last breath. But Dean had picked the coward’s way out and pushed the blame on Ashton anyway. And Ashton, bless his heart, had let it happen.

And for what? For both of them to chase their music dreams separately and still find a way back into each other’s lives? There was no way that could be a mere coincidence. Something much larger than Dean could ever fathom was at play here. Fate. Destiny. Whatever it was, Dean wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Dean pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hello?” Ashton’s voice answered, polite but unsure of who was calling.

“Hey,” Dean replied. “It’s me. It’s uh, sorry, it’s Dean.”

“Oh! Yeah, hey. I uh, wasn’t expecting you to call, sorry,” Ashton nervously laughed. 

“To be fair, I told you not to expect me,” Dean laughed with him.

“You guys are ready with the arrangements already?” Ashton asked incredulously. “Damn, I can see why my management picked you guys.”

“What? No. I—" Dean huffed another laugh. “Sorry, I should explain why I’m calling you. It’s uh… Well, it’s personal, I guess? I— God, I feel so ridiculous. I—” he paused, letting out a long sigh, using the time to gather the courage to say what he wanted to say. 

“Dean?” Ashton asked, voice tinged with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I keep thinking, and um… are you free to meet for coffee or something? This is a conversation probably better had in person.”

“Oh? Uh… yeah. Yeah, I can meet you somewhere. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

~~~

Ashton tried to keep his nerves in check as he waited inside the coffee shop for Dean to arrive. It took every ounce of patience he had to remain where he was when he saw Dean in the parking lot, tucking a motorcycle helmet under his arm before striding towards the door. The tightness in his chest gave way to instant relief when Dean flashed him a huge grin, crossing the room quickly to him. “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Dean rushed out as he set his motorcycle helmet down on the table. 

“Yeah, of course. So what’s up? You sounded like whatever you wanted to talk about is pretty serious.”

Dean’s face flushed, as both men settled into their seats. “It’s actually kind of stupid. But remember how I told you that we should leave our past in the past and just have a clean slate?”

Ashton felt the tightness in his chest return as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m struggling with doing that more than I thought. Like, if someone had asked me a few days ago how I felt about you, I would easily say that you were someone who was part of my past, and I’ve made my peace with it.”

“And now?” Ashton prompted after a few beats of silence. 

“Now I’m confused. The way we ended wasn’t your fault. The blame lies completely with me. I was the one who couldn’t handle my inner demons and I took the easy way out. And even today, it’s clear I still have some bitterness about how we ended because I’ve kind of been a dick to you under the guise of cold professionalism. And that bitterness is misplaced. It’s my own demons that have now turned into regret, and it’s not fair for me to have projected that onto you.”

“Well, while I appreciate that, I’m still partly to blame. I got tunnel-visioned in chasing my music dream with the guys, and I unintentionally stopped viewing you as a priority. And you were right to call me out for it and demand more for yourself.”

“You didn’t deserve for me to throw it all away, though.”

Ashton shrugged. “And you didn’t deserve for me to cast you aside to push you into thinking walking away was the only option.”

“And while I’m glad we’re at a place now where we can have a mature conversation about this, I’m still confused about where this leaves us. Because I don’t want a fresh start. I want a do over. I want the chance I ran away from.”

Ashton let out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank, God,” he laughed. “Because I have not been able to get you out of my head since I suggested your company to my management,” he confessed.

“Since you what?” Dean asked incredulously. “You suggested my company to your management? Which meant you knew it was me?”

Ashton’s face flushed. “Well it didn’t start out that way. But once I saw the name, I got curious. And… I mean I can’t say that I was ever okay with how things ended between us. It fuckin’ destroyed me, and to always have this nagging thought that it could have been avoided… You’re the only boy I’ve ever been in love with, Dean. And one of the last things you said to me was how you didn’t think you’d ever stop loving me. And I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding onto that hope until I found you again.”

Dean felt his heart start to race in his chest. “So… if I want a do over, and you also want a do over… that leaves us where, exactly?”

“Hopefully right about here?” Ashton asked before one of his hands was reaching across the table, two fingers hooking under Dean’s chin to pull him in for a kiss.

__

Tag List

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[echthr0s]

When your character is happy, how do they express it? A character might smile, but what does it look like -- toothy, crooked, beaming, etc.? Do they scrunch their nose, do they clap their hands excitedly?

Dayir has a very pliable face and is quite in touch with her emotional expression, so she may exhibit any number of variations on the following: wide sparkling eyes, an open-mouthed beaming smile that eclipses her face, an :O kind of expression that looks dismayed at first glance but is actually just her feeling incredibly moved, flappy hands, a devious looking kind of :> that is often accompanied by fiendish giggles and hand-clasping or hair-twirling, a spontaneous dance, or full-on waterworks. it really just depends on what intensity of happiness she's feeling, what the source of it is, and how many other emotions are bound up with it

Ishan is a bit less complex presentation-wise; he isn't as in tune with himself as Dayir is (it's a work in progress) and he's also not used to displaying his emotional depths to other people. he'll show you 100 ways to be angry but when it comes to more vulnerable-feeling emotions, he feels the powerful urge to play them very close to his chest. so how he expresses his happiness mostly depends on who's around to see it. his most open expression of happiness looks like relaxation -- his face and body soften, which is a pretty dramatic change for him. he might laugh more readily or be more inclined to affectionate touch. you'll genuinely feel the vibes in the area shift, it's almost palpable. his more reserved expressions of happiness are a tight sometimes-crooked smile, a nod of approval, a brief hand on a shoulder or back (he's very deliberate about touch, if he touches you it means something -- in the case of happiness it means you've caused said happiness), or something even subtler like... him lingering in a room after business is done, just to continue to bask in the energy of the interaction.

Shai has the benefit of those floofy lop ears of hers, so aside from her customary wiggly shimmy of happiness she also will exhibit a perk to her ears (they'll still be lopped but in a more jaunty way). there's also a scent element to emotional expression for Viera but only other Viera can pick that up, so (the scent thing can also be picked up by people who have exceptional aether-vision, like Y'shtola. it's kind of like when people on Earth talk about "seeing auras")

[the-sprog]

@descriptivepessimism-daa tagging you because I'm using your comment to elaborate because I've been enabled and you don't understand how many ideas I have about these people.

YEs and it's not even that Conan is like ninja-level stealth or something. It's more that he mastered the art of being an annoying child. The issue is that he overshoots and everything is based on his perception of what a 6yo is like. And he is... so wrong XD not only based on what we see of the Junior Detectives, but also because of what we're shown in childhood flashbacks.

Actually 6yo Shinichi is... basically the same as teenager Shinichi. He just has less knowledge (duh he's got 10 less years of real life experience living in the world) and hasn't started masking yet. So his vision of what a 6yo acts like are most likely based on his memories as a "you're so mature for your age!" autistic kid with low empathy watching NT kids cry when their parents aren't there to pick them up (Yusako father of the year award, never won. Never even nominated).

So it's more that he becomes a wiggly worm and starts screeching as high pitched as he can until whoever is holding him -in this case Damian- relents and puts him down. Damian doesn't want to hurt a civilian child, but he's also confused by the switch in actiong. This kid is not a good spy sob. First, he's squirming, looks on the verge of tears because Damian brought him aways from a corpse, whining, and walking all "cutsy". And immediately as he's let go he's standing still, following proper crime scene etiquette (I'm pretty sure crime scene procejures in Japan and in the US are different, so even if Damian might not know, if Bruce only went over the US kind, he'd get the gist), and his voice is a normal timber, if not a little lower than avarage.

Damian knows masking, more in the sense that there's no way Bruce Wayne is NT, and neither is Damian. So he's seen people mask and he probably masks himself, but I don't believe hs'd know that's what he'd doing. I do not think any of those people are diagnosed. Although I can 100% believe Harley has yelled at them to get an autism (and OCD for Bruce and Tim) diagnosis assessment during a fight once.

So he sees Conan being really bad at it and his immediate thought is "wow this kid is so bad at undercover work" and starts investigating who he's working for.

Bruce: "Damian, have you gathered any intel about the murder?"

Damian, staring at Conan crouched in front of a dead body: "What murder?"

Conan, now dribbling with a soccer ball:

Bruce, looking towards him for the first time: "Where- Where did he get that?"

Damian, hasn't taken his eyes off from the kid: "He's got gadgets."

Bruce: "What"

Damian: "His shoes are weapons"

This turned into autism headcanonc, but tbf it's Batman and Conan.

I think a Batman/DetCo crossover would be perfect especially in the context of how fucking insane Shinichi's parents are.

I was thinking and I realized they're a mix of the Drakes (neglectful in the "never being home" kinda way, rich but it doesn't seem like their child sees a lot of that money) and Bruce ("how'd you learn how to shoot a gun" "my father spent a summer with me in Hawaii to teach me" what an insane scene that was. Not to mention the "yeah. It's a good idea to traumatize our child via fake kidnapping to teach him a lesson about stranger danger :)" and "Shinichi, dear, I know you're 6yo but come investigate this suicide with me sweetie") but they're also above worse (willing to falsify police and government documents for son).

Would Bruce love the Kudos or hate them? On one hand, Yusako definitely has them figured out. He's kinda like Alfred that way.

The Kudos get invited to an event, something like an award ceremony or some kind of cinema festival. They decide to bring Conan as a decoy for Shinichi related questions (usually they'd just use school as an examination why he wasn't there but they've been saying Shinichi is traveling for a case nowadays and it wouldn't do well to contradict that).

Bruce is the one that organized whatever event this is. I wanted the Drakes alive but I also want Damien to meet Conan. So. Sorry Janet and Jack. I'm going full Batfam for this.

Clark Kent is there, though he's technically a plus one. Cat is doing a piece for the event, specifically she wants to interview the Kudos, which is a feat as of late, and needed a last minute plus one (the Kudos are volatile and no one knew if they'd actually show up. When they did, Cat had to rush to get to Gotham before they decide they got bored and fucked off).

Of course, Cat immediately latches onto Conan's existence and assumes that he is why the Kudos have been out of the public eye. But not in the actual real way. She starts by asking general questions about them, their careers, and the event they're at at the moment.

And then she hits them with: "so. I see you've expanded the family. How does Shinichi feel about having a little brother?"

Which breaks just about everyone involved in the conversation.

Immediately Yukiko goes into actress gear. "Oh no he's- this is Conan, Conan Edogawa. He's our nephew. He's been staying with a friend of ours in Japan, but we thought he'd like coming back to the States for a bit!" All while smiling. Meanwhile Conan goes through all the stages of grief and is already building up the script for when he's gonna have to kiss ass to Ai for ending up in the Daily Planet.

Yusako senses this and tries to mitigate the situation a bit. "I'd appreciate if you didn't put him in your article. He's just a kid. And the focus is supposed to be on the event and our achievements, not a gossip piece about our private life"

But then Clark speaks up. Unfortunately he's been listening to the conversation and keeping track of everyone's reactions to everything. And he has a good memory. He has also listened to enough rants from Batman about the KID Thief to know more details than the average person.

"Aren't you the KID killer?" Everyone blanches. "I mean, that child from the KID Thief heists?"

"Uhm..." Conan is stumped. He's really bad at this. Of all the things his parents did, they never left him to deal with the vultures alone. But that also means that in his entire High School Detective career he had more of a "avoid at all costs" kinda mentality when it came to talking to the press directly. Sure they've made articles about him, but he's never met anyone interview him directly.

But again, Yukiko to the rescue. "I think that's enough. I hope you can respect our wishes." She puts her hands on Conan's shoulders as she redirects him away from them.

Clark is a little worried, a little suspicious. But he stops Cat from following them by reiterating that he's a kid and the Planet is not a tabloid newspaper.

Of course pt2, things go as things go when Conan is around a respectable amount of people and someone dies. Immediately Conan is on high alert, but so is Bruce who's worried about how someone could've managed to successfully commit a murder under his nose.

So, the investigation begins. On technically 4 sides. Yusako is doing his own detective work, but he's staying on the sidelines and letting the others be at the center of it all. Conan's special interest has been activated so he's in full inspection mode and putting himself in everyone's business. Bruce immediately contacts Commissioner Gordon, and starts distracting the people at the event while sussing out anyone who might have had a motive and/or opportunity. Clark has engaged his investigative journalism side and is already gathering evidence.

Meanwhile Damien is trying to convince Bruce to let him threaten people with unimaginable violence to make them comply and confess. But then he gets distracted by Conan and starts trying to babysit him but in a "I'm better than you tsk you're so immature" kinda way. Keeping him out of the way by yelling at him and dragging him away physically. Conan is not deterred.

All in all, it's a regular day for Conan, a particularly interesting day for the Kudos, a surprisingly weird day for Bruce, and a very annoying day for Damien.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I can’t believe nobody’s written a ‘Black Friday characters watch the musical’ fanfic yet. They can be taken from the very end, right at or after midnight. Thinking the people who prevented Wiggly’s takeover of Earth deserve an explanation of the day’s events, Webby transports them all to a cinema in the White part of the Black and White. There’s so much you could put in it:

If Ethan’s soul really is in the Black and White and it wasn’t just Wiggly creating a vision, Webby can free him from the Black so he can watch too. He could stay dead at the end but at least have time to say his goodbyes, potentially becoming a new spiritual companion to Hannah and Lex the way Webby is to Hannah; or Webby or even Hannah could bring him back to life.

Everyone learning about Wiggly and Webby’s true natures.

Everyone meeting General John MacNamara of the United States Military, Special Unit PEIP (they call it ‘Peep’).

Everyone learning about Hannah and Lex’s powers.

MacNamara can give them more training too.

Lex seeing Ethan’s death.

Tom noticing what his son really wanted all along in hindsight, Tim gaining a better understanding of his father’s poor mental health and them talking out their thoughts and emotions. And then hugging.

More interactions between the Foster sisters and Tom and Becky, so that they’re a fully fledged found family by the end.

Tom planning to adopt the sisters once he has their trust and a greater insight into how bad their home life is.

Discussion of how at fault for their actions people are when Wiggly’s influencing and controlling them. Tom, Becky and ex-cult member Charlotte can give testimony of how being completely overtaken feels, but no doubt also feel guilty, especially Charlotte (who let Linda commit murder and threaten to kill a child, and you know, contributed to very nearly almost causing the apocalypse) and Tom (who left Becky and Hannah for dead and nearly brought a powerful god of evil making him the worst version of himself into his home to his son).

Discussion of the flaws of late-stage capitalism and American society.

Lex flinching when Wiley mimes cutting his throat and says to Frank, “You are gonna make a killing” and everyone realizing why when Frank is murdered.

Lex asking “What the fuck am I watching?” after “Deck the Halls” just before Tom does.

More Barneston development and fluff.

Becky empathizing with the sisters over having experienced chronic abuse from their ‘family’.

Tom, Tim and Emma getting to talk about Jane and Emma generally bonding with her in-laws.

Emma letting go of her dislike of Becky.

Paul being uncomfortable during the songs.

[snowpeawritings]

As Long-Standing As The Earth

Every day, Zhongli stares down at a little cube. The cor lapis-colored thing humming with Geo energy as the little dial that shows on one side slowly ticks.

When the dial reaches its peak, Zhongli feels like the earth is alive again.

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Reincarnation AU, Modern AU, Zhongli character story spoilers, blood warning

❄ Snowpea’s words: LET’S GO ZHONGLI BANNER DROPPING TOMORROW I WROTE 2K WORDS LIKE I PROMISED--

The first time he held the little cube, you were dying in his arms.

It shouldn't shake him, he thinks. He is the god of war, death became a norm when mortals and archons alike are associated with him. He is the long-standing pillar that brought his army to victory. Just like the earth that continues to stand, just like his energy that reshaped the land, he will not bow to whatever danger his immortal lifetime will experience.

It shouldn't shake him. It shouldn't shake his hands when he holds your lifeless corpse, your blood running down his skin like water weathering down stone. It shouldn't.

Yet it does. Each stream of blood crumbled his visage, eyes pleading at your dead ones to see if you will laugh at how ridiculous he looks. He would take any sort of jest from you just to see you that you were even capable of making jokes while bleeding out.

You never did.

And just like sand, he crumpled down onto the earth, hoping that he would be swallowed in when the gods took you away from him.

The second time he held the cube, it was when he used it for the first time.

He remembers it fondly; you were pledged to him beyond Teyvat's mortal realms, as a god and a mortal who were sworn to each other. You joked about it, saying you two were practically married to each other and wondered if he hated the fact that he had been tied down to a mortal.

Before, he would've laughed at the thought and said that you were silly.

He wished he could've done more than just laugh at your insecurities.

The Guili Plains were slowly coming to life as he spent his energy on making his abode. You mentioned to him before that you would've loved to sit back and eat your favorite cuisine underneath a red tree, surrounded by water as the sound of nature encompasses your dining wonderfully. He had hoped that the tree in the center was big enough for you to see.

As if realizing his fondness, a little cube-no bigger than his palm-glowed from his pocket. It hummed with elemental energy as he gasped at the dial pointing at its peak.

Terraforming would have to wait.

Ever since the Archon War, he began to loathe being an archon.

He sees old friends come and go or worse, die during the war. It wouldn't be a surprise that he was used to death.

No… that's not how he would describe it.

He was used to loneliness…?

Close.

Ah, he grew tired of being lonely. He supposes that was an agreeable feeling to describe him. The price of him wanting to end his loneliness was a price his heart couldn't bear. He was a smart god, cleverly providing strategies in order to gain the upper hand in the war. 

Clearly, he wasn't smart enough to know the long-term consequences of his need.

The gods had warned him and he stood his ground as resolute as the mountains of Liyue.

The bustling village greeted his sight. Newcomers of Liyue and old villagers walked around, giving space for him to walk. Whether it was fear or admiration towards the archon, he couldn't care less. He set sight on a rather large house, its windows and doors opened for the public as wounded laid down on cots. Victims of people attempting to colonize Liyue, Treasure Hunters, or the sad case of Hilichurls, he couldn't care less.

He spots the aura of yellow energy before he could properly see the person. They were wearing a nurse's outfit, caked with blood and unknown grime from treating patients. Yet he never saw a more beautiful sight.

He approaches you and he feels the cube in his hand vibrate in tune with your aura. Making a deal with the devils be damned, he can never throw this opportunity away because he was an immortal.

"Oh, hello sir!" You greeted him and he felt the earth tremble slightly from your voice. "What can I help you with?"

He smiled at you, placing his palm in front of his chest pocket where the cube hummed. "My name is Zhongli. I heard that you are an excellent doctor?"

The third time he held the cube, he nearly threw it away along with his past.

He was no longer Morax, or Rex Lapis. He was just Zhongli, the head of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

It was ironic, to be connected to a place of death and moving on when he tries to do the same thing. Not once did the thought of moving on never crossed his mind. Not once did the thought of giving up his life never crossed his mind because he was so tired.

His past seemed just as resolute as the earth, he thinks bitterly.

The cube that he wanted so badly to discard still kept reappearing in his sight. Whether throwing it outside the window or burning it in the fireplace or even chucking it at the Chasm. It doesn't matter, it keeps reappearing like it was gloating at him. Like it was sneering at him as it reminds him about this perpetual curse that follows him until his dying breath.

But that doesn't matter at the moment. He has a job to do as the head for doing the rite of passing. He follows the Traveler to the floral boutique, wanting to buy the best Silk Flowers for Rex Lapis's passing.

How fitting.

Before he could try to get a word out for the history of Silk Flowers, his words got trapped in his throat. He sees the same yellow aura that he associated with the color of Geo. No matter how much time has passed, he knows those vibrant colors anywhere. The cube inside his coat hummed annoyingly like it was trying for him to do something. You were blissfully unaware of his longing stare, busy trying to barter against a merchant for the cheapest price of cor lapis.

Oh, how much he wanted to march right next to you and barter with the merchant himself, say that the cor lapis he sold couldn’t hold a candle to the aura that you emitted, that he was willing to put the price of the cor lapis on his tab because you were worth it--

"Mr. Zhongli?" The Traveler's travelling companion asks. "Are you okay?"

He ignores them, chest tightening at the thought of seeing his love for the third time. "I… lost my thought. I apologize."

Stand as resolute as the earth, Zhongli scolds himself. You can't stay like this forever.

... Forever is nothing compared to an archon, though.

After having dinner with the Traveler with a smooth rite of passing, he would've loved to take Barbatos's advice and drink until he can't think.

The fourth time he held the cube, it was when he felt his powers slipping away.

The times have changed, he fears, for the Statues of the Seven slowly dwindled out until they were almost ruined. The age of metal and alchemy conquered Teyvat instead of the elemental energy and Visions that people possessed. He couldn't heal using the broken down Statues but at least he could share one last drink with Barbatos before the inevitable.

"You should see them build the first plane!" He said excitedly as he downed his umpteenth drink. "Looks like they don't need the winds from their archon anymore!"

Somehow, he wishes he could share Barbatos's anguished laughter as he drank himself into forgetfulness.

The age of innovation grew higher and higher towards its peak while Zhongli's powers grew lower and lower. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't mind it.

Anything to get rid of the blasted cube.

He gave up trying to get rid of it. Gave up on trying to find his love when the dial hits its peak. If giving away his gnosis meant that the cube would no longer work, he would. Even more so with the depletion of everyone's belief at Archons.

He hopes.

Alas, it appears Celestia would laugh at Zhongli's hopes, for when the cube glowed for another time, he nearly tore his hair out.

How many lifetimes? How many more heartbreaks? How many more funeral rites?

And yet he seemed to be the biggest fool despite being the eldest Archon, for when he sees you, an inventor innovating the new gadgets for tomorrow, he felt the earth beneath his feet tremble.

He missed this feeling.

"Hello sir!" You greeted him with enthusiasm that he wished he could relate to. "Care to see the future of mankind?"

He is the biggest fool there was. "I would love to."

And he may as well die as a fool.

The fifth time he held the cube, he was only fidgeting it around.

Funeral parlors were becoming commonplace but not a lot of customers. With globalization and the new funeral trends being used, people have mixed feelings about having such an expensive and extravagant rite of passing.

And it also doesn't help that he gets confused when some people don't even bother asking for his services. They just stare at him with a wiggly smile on their lips.

Regardless, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth. He sees the dial on its peak but he doesn't pay heed to it. He gave up. With how many people there are and newer countries emerging, he lost hope.

No, more like he doesn't care anymore.

It was probably an insult to you-no-it was a clear insult and it was scary that he doesn't care anymore. He can't be the man that existed before, assisting the Traveler and Childe. He can't be the broken down Archon that shared drinks with Barbatos. He was so goddamn tired that he deserves this sanctuary.

If he could even call it that.

And yet, he persisted. Not for Guizhong, not for you, but for himself.

He takes his time with his tea, relishing in the flavors as he used this time to calm himself. The sounds of the clock ticking, the ceramic of his cup hitting the table, and the distant sound of birds chirping were all welcomed to his ears. It appears that his daily tea rituals haven't changed at all ever since he was born.

As he sips up the last bit of his tea, a knock broke him out of his concentration. He allowed entry.

An employee under him bowed before straightening his back. "Mr. Zhongli, you have a customer."

He sets down the cup. "Bring them in."

The employee nodded at him before walking back to fetch the customer. He fixes his tie and moves his finished tea away, wanting to look best for the customer.

Hearing an extra set of footsteps, he raised his head to greet the customer but he felt the earth tremble.

Maybe Celestia had enough of his sulking as he sees you smile at him like the first of you smiled at the archon all those millenia ago.

"Hello, Mr. Zhongli," you greeted and his name never sounded so poisonously sweet in his ears, "I hope you aren't too busy with what I have to ask…"

He may as well start his own funeral rites for himself.

He takes a while before composing himself, not meeting your eyes as he gestured to the vacant seat on his left side. He can’t meet your eyes even when you sat down and smiled politely at him. It felt like his heart stopped, then jump started like an engine.

“So, um…” You said, fiddling with the tips of your fingers and Zhongli had to resist the urge to take your hands in his. “Mr. Zhongli, I was hoping that I could ask you something.”

He steeled his spine in order to not show the shiver he felt when he heard you say his name. Gods, when has it been that your past reincarnation said his name? Even in a non-romantic way? “Well, as long as it is within the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s power, I’ll do what I can.”

This time, you averted your eyes from him, your hand moving to scratch the back of your neck. “About that… it’s not really something related to the funeral parlor perse…”

He raised his brow, your nervousness almost easing him. “Oh?”

Your face flushed and Zhongli can’t help but feel his heart race just like before. “It’s ah… It’s just that I have a research thesis that I’m doing and for some reason, the people I’ve asked recommended you.”

He slightly deflated, then wondered why he felt disappointment in the first place. “A research thesis? Pertaining about...?”

You immediately perked up and you reached out from behind you. Your bag was sitting behind you, smooshed against the chair as Zhongli watched you curiously. From your backpack, you fished out a laptop, a heavy history book, a slim book, two notebooks, and a pencil case that’s practically bursting at the seams with stationery. You set them down on the table, the force clattering the plates but nothing was spilled.

You booted up your laptop, getting one of your notebooks and grabbing a pen. When the laptop finally booted up, you logged in and presented Zhongli what was on the screen.

He felt the earth tremble from his knee knocking up against the table.

‘History of Rex Lapis And Their Influence On The Modern World’

“I’m a huge fan of history, you see!” You explained quickly, grabbing the large book that shows an old copy of Rex Lapis Incognito, a book that he hasn’t seen a while. “I really appreciate everything that the old archons did for the world, even if people don’t believe in them anymore. I especially have a fondness for the adepti but they’re even more forgettable-but I don’t mean it in a bad way! I want to write this with intentions of people remembering what both archons and adepti did for Teyvat…”

He zoned out soon after you said ‘history’. He wasn’t the type to pray for a blessing when, after all, you’re a literal god. But it comes to a time where, after heartbreak after heartbreak, he grows tired and soon goes numb. He thought he hardened his heart ever since he subjected himself to this but it appears even bedrock can be reduced to dust.

He let out a small, shaky breath before raising his head. That doesn’t matter now. He was Zhongli, used to be adeptus, used to be archon, but now: a man.

He couldn’t be any happier.

“I admire your fondness for researching ancient history.” He said, cutting off your rambling. “I may not be as knowledgeable as any other book, but I will try my best. We should speak about this somewhere else, though. It would be dreadful to speak in a funeral parlor.”

Just like terraforming, he can be rebuilt.

[the-super-starkid-theory]

The Watchers with a Thousand Eyes became a tale like any other. When folks of Hatchetfield discussed the origins of their town, they always included the part of the story where one of the founding families had passed out on their journey and claimed to have seen said Watchers.

Part 1

When last we left the Lords in Black, they had been pursued by the kind spider who had initially let them escape - that is until she realised they had been taken in by the one who called himself Wiggly. However, when she had gone to bring them back, Tinky with his new found powers over time and space had catapulted them into a new dimension - split between their domain and hers.

They called it the Black and White, and the five brothers in arms found that through it they had windows - and sometimes doors - to many, many places.

The one called Blinky ventured forth, the best to gain information with his all-seeing eye. He peered through the Black and White and found himself distracted by a flurry of chaos and opposition. A war. A dichotomy of emotions that Blinky found entrancing.

Well, if he could call it a war. It was one man, posed against a number of red creatures he didn’t know. The man was filled with anger, and frustration, and hope all at the same time. And Blinky loved it.

So he watched. He watched as the battle waged on. He watched as the red creatures banished the man to the land, away from their coastal waters. He watched as the man sat in a stupor, having drunk far too heavily to squash his dismay.

He watched as the man looked up and started watching him back.

In his panic, Blinky tried to do something - anything - that would make the man believe this wasn’t real - that it was a product of his drunken state. In doing so he discovered an ability to duplicate himself in the man’s mind - appear in multitudes - his one yellow eye duplicated over and over again.

The man had then nodded and fell asleep.

Blinky kept his eye on him.

Blinky had reported his findings to his brothers, of a soldier who could see into the Black and White. And of his family, a daughter and son-in-law who may yet show the same abilities. The son-in-law had accidentally knocked a burning candle onto some dry hay when Blinky’s image had briefly floated in his vision.

A perfect time to test a bit of chaos, Wiggly had reminded him.

“The watchers with a thousand eyes - why do you wanna watch us die?”

Blinky had waited until the right moment, the moment the soldier’s son-in-law had accidentally swallowed some snake venom, before he had made his move. He had made himself known to the man, planting obscure ideas in his head, telling him he was able to fly, that he could hear un-hearable sounds, false premonitions that his family would die of dysentery. Anything to create chaos in the man’s mind - to manipulate his fears - to set in motion events so they would veer off their designed course.

Later, when the family found a place to settle - on a tiny island in the middle of a lake, with only a handful of other inhabitants, Blinky watched, and reported back to his brothers. This rapidly developing town, not even thirty years old, with its surrounding inky waters, and evidence of two separate lineages that can reach into the Black and White? They knew what these humans were like - Blinky had seen the soldier’s disdain and perseverance - his need for personal victory over adversaries. They just needed a bit of a push.

Yes - a rapidly developing town - perfect for manipulating - to ensure they created the means to reach the distant planets and reign fire on the bugs that had tried to destroy them. And if it meant they could make a little chaos along the way - all the better.

[full-of-mercy]

Bite them, the intrusive thought flares in Wolfwood's mind as Vash's matte black digits count in his peripheral vision. The twitch at the corners of his eyes and the corners of his lips betrays the notion (even if the floppiest of floppy shaking as the menace goes noodly is intensely satisfying).

He snaps his teeth after Vash's fingers with a click of yet, filling in the anticipated gap, and lunging to cut off avenues of escape as the wiggly noodle slips free just bunts his chest closer mid-embrace.

Relax, he said. Relax what?! Nicholas draws in a breath and manages to growl, "Tongari—"

But then he has a new outlet. Affection. And a new muffle mouth to mouth, and since he is fool enough to trust the Humanoid Typhoon, he is also fool enough to forget for just a few heartbeats that they are in broad daylight in the middle of a very public place. That he has Vash semi-pinned against a wall in a busy avenue after they've just made a mess tearing across the way slips his mind entirely. He takes revenge (such as it is) with a bite-tug to Vash's lower lip, an aggressive glide of tongue to teeth.

Just a couple of seconds. Reality catches up, sure as a rubber band snapped from hands that are suddenly freed to do what they will.

What they do is drop, curve underneath the characteristic tailed coat-panels, and grab, fingertips divoting into muscle through leather.

His face burns. Ears, cheeks, clavicles tinge russet as he looks down to his new accessory, and as titters and catcalls (and whispers of disgust, public indecency, how-dare-you-there-are-children) filter into his usually-keen attention.

"...yeah," yeah. Neat. He works his jaw to form words, glancing aside, letting go. "You can tell me all about how it'll come in handy while we fuck off in a general thatwardly direction."

Wherever that is. He kind of wants to find the nearest sand dune and bury himself in it for a minute.

Vash yelps as a mostly clenched hand throttles him to the point of ragdolling (of his own doing, really, the ratio of input to output are vastly exaggerated). 

“Well, last I checked…” He tallies the reasons off the fingertips of his prosthetic. “World isn’t ending. I just had half a dozen doughnuts to myself, we didn’t lead a bunch of bounty hunters straight to our room like last time, in fact, I don’t think anyone’s figured out who we are–” there’s a sliver of space where a ‘yet’ would fit at the end of that particular line item, “And I bet this little knick knack will come in handy when we least expect it.” 

If anyone else were fool enough to trust the word of the Humanoid Typhoon, at any rate.

Vash wiggles persistently (and wiggles some more if there were any doubts), until he is free of grabbing hands, flashes a winning smile, then ducks down and pops back up within the closed loop of Wolfwood’s arms. 

Just a moment. To make eye contact replete with affection and the briefest pulse of resonance before he boldly closes in for a wanton kiss in full view of the good people of Middleton. Tongue and everything!

Amidst the rising chorus of gasps and objections, Vash reaches down and back to take hold of Wolfwood’s wrists. Pressing in to relax the taut fibers then pulling apart, the fingertrap releases its prisoner and Vash promptly tucks the lattice sleeve into the open window of Nicholas’s shirt. Vash raps a playful ‘pap pap’ with two fingers against Nicholas’s sternum.

“Neat, right?” 

[sunlitmcgee]

CUT SCENES FROM HEAL WHAT HAS BEEN HURT CHAPTER 81

Yo yo yo, my good folks! This here’s a post that’s gonna talk about some stuff that didn’t make it into Chapter 81, either due to a change in creative vision or plain old pacing. It’s got bits of gore/violence/self-harm under the cut, as well as general creepy imagery/stuff with bugs. Please be safe!

So firstly, I’ll say that originally I did want more of Puffy being with Tommy this chapter. I had several scenes in my head where she and him walked through various memories together, such as through Pogtopia’s main cavern, Logstedshire’s campsite, or even a moment where they visited Thrent and Tommy gave her a sort of “tour” of his living conditions in exile. That last idea bled over a bit into the final scene with clingyduo, but in all honest I do feel very bad that Puffy got sidelined in this chapter, and would really like to try and fit her in in future ones where possible. She just got in over her head there at some point. Magical whatchimacllit and therapy really don’t mix. :”) not her fault.

Another scrapped idea was for the scene with alliumduo when they were both lil’ bugs! Originally that scene was going to end with Ranboo turning into basically a butterfly-winged fairy prince type of character(think something out of Disney’s Fairies lol) with his wings being the elytra he won from XD’s gameshow. Tommy would in turn become a version of his usual self with fluffy white  moth wings and a big poofy dress that would mimic a poodle moth’s floof, which he’d be very giddy about as he and Ranboo locked hands and began to slow dance on top of the allium. This idea was cut for pacing/story flow, and because at that point Tommy was a very tired boy that just wanted to move onto something else after what happened in the prison cell a few moments prior.

Speaking of the cell.

This was the moment that changed the most. It was originally going to last much long and be a much more graphic, drawn out scene. Tommy was originally going to flagellate himself in that box to the point where his whole body would’ve just.....melted? Into this mass of dark red bloody ooze that only had the vague shape of his body along with his two blue eyes. He’d scream until he couldn’t, then breakdown crying as his whole body oozed around him in this visceral moment of just...pain.

One bit I had very clearly in mind was of him thrashing back and forth while both Ranboo and Tubbo screamed at him to stop while Puffy rushed to call XD from where they stayed during the sessions(they were basically inbetween Tommy’s mind and the rest of the world so he could have privacy unless they needed him). It was gonna involve Tommy repeating the phrases “No one cared”, “No one came”, “No one wants me”, and most painfully of all, “This is what he made me into.” All while viscously and violently beating himself against the walls, floor and ceiling of the room where his life was almost beaten out of him by a very evil man. He’d end up clawing at his body at some point. Lots of blood. Lots of maggots and other icky nasty wigglies. All very symbolic in ways I’m sure you all could pick up on from how that concept of being “full of spiders” lingered in the final draft.

I scrapped it because it hurt too much to write. Even I have my limits :”)

The scene with the multiple dead Ranboos was also going to last longer. There were going to be a few moments where some of the bodies were still half alive and would drag themselves up to talk to Tommy. They’d say some of the things Ranboo said when he visited in exile, but there would also be bits of mockery and taunting sprinkled in, all of which would’ve come straight from Tommy’s mind from when he was alone in exile/after the prison. Scrapped it for time. There was so much already and I didn’t wanna drag it out longer than needed. Plus ever since Ghostboo became a thing in canon lore, I find the idea of c!Ranboo being dead to be Very Upsetting in a Very Not Fun Way. It upsets me to see boo baby in pain :( im senstive about it

 Another scrapped concept involved the green smile that taunted Tommy with all his Dream-related conditioning. It was gonna turn into some manner of Silent Hill-esque creature that would chase Tommy down while repeating the last words he said in the prison prior to trying to kill him. Felt too actiony for such an intimate, slow-burn type chapter. Still have the design in my head. Maybe it’ll pop up, somehow.

There was going to be a very cute, mostly lighthearted scene involving clingyduo at one point. I actually made concept art of it in MS Paint and posted in onto discord! It was basically gonna be a moment where Tommy woke up in a large room filled with pretty blue curtains, which would then pull back to reveal Tubbo, who had been turned into what I can best descibe as a 9 feet tall buff ‘n burly strong man caraicature of himself that was shirtless with a pair of poofy purple pants and some very pretty necklaces that were made of beads Tommy often wore in his hair whenever Ranboo braids it. It was gonna be.....just....plain ol’ platonic gay panic. Very cute, very silly. Lots of Tubbo being sweet and soft and trying to pick Tommy up while he was just freaking the fuck out, mortified by his brain and desprate for it to be over so they could never speak of it again all “We Take This To Our Graves” style. He’d be a very blushy baby boyo.

It was scrapped for tonal purposes. Clingyduo in this chapter had many very intimate, serious moments together. I didn’t wanna ruin that for the joke. It is a good joke, tho.

The last major change was very last minute. In the scene where XD was leading Tommy out of his head, I originally wanted to reference the last scene in Turning Red where Mei Mei and her mom have that personal moment and she helps lead her mother out of the bamboo forest. Originally Tommy was going to shift between the various versions of himself from all the major points in his life, before finally settling on his current self, aka the cumination of all those lived experiences that he lives as today. No reason why this one changed. Just ended up writing the scene differently :) happens sometimes.

To close this off, I wanna talk some more about this chapter in general. Mostly because it was a very personal one to write. All of Heal What Has Been Hurt has been personal to write due to the nature of its themes, but this one was very intimate in how I had to approach it, in such a way that as I went through it and described many of the details and enviroments within Tommy’s mindscape, I came to understand a lot of things about my own traumas and how they’ve shaped me, things I won’t share but that the mention of is still important to note.

Trauma is...messy.

Trauma is weird.

Trauma is one of the most horrific yet varied things we as humans can go though.

It changes us completely. We are never the same after it’s happened. We are forever altered by its effects, forever under its unpredictable and oftentimes almost seemingly malevolent influence.

It’s always there when you want it the least. You always get triggered when you’re finally starting to feel okay. You always spiral just as you think you’ve gotten yourself out of it. And just when you think you’ve figured one thing out, that you’ve pinned down the root of all your pain and are ready to snuff it into the dirt, a whole new wave comes in and you’re forced to grapple with the fact that it will well and truly never be over, and that this is your life, and that this, this mess, this awfulness, this tiresome labor of a life........is you.

And it goes on.

And on.

And on and on and on for the rest of your short time in forever.

There’s no endpoint to recovery from trauma. There’s not climax. There’s no grand finale where you’ll have this lovely musical swell of emotions to accompany some grand “ah-ha! NOW I’ll be happy again” type moment. There’s just always more. More pain. More tired. More anger. More sadness.

More life. Life with your trauma. Life with yourself.

It doesn’t have to be miserable. It is at times. But it doesn’t always have to be.

That’s what chapter 81 was. For me, at the very least. I encourage you all always to find whatever meaning you need in my works. That’s part of why I make them :) 

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Program

[[PHYSICAL ABUSE, IMPLIED STARVATION, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, SLIGHT ANIMAL GORE]]

He was trapped again.

It happened more often now. It was no surprise. He was too tired to keep running. His legs ached down to his hooves. He fell against a frigid wall into a fetal position, hugging his knees.

I’m sorry.

It’s for nothing. Apologies never worked before. They wouldn’t magically get him forgiveness. What had he done? It had something to do with Wiggog Y’wrath this time. He had said. But what specific offense he had broken was lost on him. That had been days ago.

Silence buzzed. He clamped both hooves over his furry ears and shut both eyes. The yellow made him sick. It made his vision spin and stomach turn. Or maybe that was the hunger. He hoped Bliklotep had found some food for himself and their baby brother without his help either way. They needed it.

He forces his mind away from food when his midsection pangs again. He presses his legs closer. Just a week. Just a week, not multiple, since he hadn’t been too mad. When he was really mad, he would get hit and bruised. Or left for longer. But it hadn’t been like that in months.

I won’t…do it again…

A spider crawls down his arm. It tickles his fur. He looks up to meet its red eyes.

…Hi.

He blinks. Then the spider’s corpse lays next to his leg. It trembles, turned over and tiny guts spurted across it’s open belly. Its blood burns beneath his hoof. He…he didn’t mean to kill it-

Tinky pants, eyes shooting open. No yellow. There’s no yellow, just darkness. There’s none, he’s OK for now, and there’s a weight on his chest that’s making it hard to breathe, what is it-?

Wiggog Y’wrath breathes evenly. Wiggly. He had fallen asleep hugging him.

Wiggles, get off-

Though he doesn’t push him away with much effort. T’noy copies his brother’s slow breathing. He reaches up a hand to move his hair out of his face with a sigh, heart pounding in his ears.

Yeah, I’m-

The hand brushes Wiggly’s hair back.

-Glad you’re here, too.

From where he’s pinned down, Tinky twists his head around to take in more of his surroundings. His eyes widen at the yellow he can spot in the dark. Fear sharpens. In a knee-jerk reaction, he reaches out and snatches it from the floor.

…Oh.

It’s the goat plushie Esme had taken. Tinky examines it. There’s nothing strange about it. Or malformed. It looks exactly the same.

Huh.

Deciding that he’s too tired to question it, he presses the goat to his side, rests his other hand on Y’wrath’s shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Still dark. No yellow.

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 8

Summary: Wanda perfected a spell meant to help them feel better, but she gravely underestimated the mind of a speedster.

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Trouble

Wanda had changed, it wasn’t very hard to see either. Peter wasn’t sure what had caused that change, perhaps she was getting over her grief or just sinking deeper, but her whole behavior didn’t match the woman he had known back in Westview. She seemed surer of herself and yet was still riddled with sadness. She didn’t zone out when they talked about Vision and the twins, but he could tell she did miss them. Also, their late-night talks had become a little more spaced out. Which were frankly one of the only things he looked forward to these days, so that really sucked. He hoped she wasn’t regretting her decision to come with them. He wasn’t sure if he could lose another person, especially his sister. Her sudden need of space was all that was on his mind. Erik had noticed it and had tried to help as much as he could. But a father wasn’t the same thing as a twin, multiverse or not. Still, he really wanted to know why she had distanced herself all of a sudden. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long as the redhead came barging into his room one night. She had a book in her hand, which he realized with a shudder of fear that it was the very same book that had been in Agatha’s basement. The one she had consulted to find a way to control him. Yet, Wanda didn’t seem to be weary of the spell book, instead she wore an expression of excitement.

“Watch this,” she gleefully said, waving a hand in the air, letting her wiggly woos fill the room.

His surroundings suddenly changed. The room doubled in size and he was now sitting on a plaid couch, a coffee table was in front of him. There was a television with three remote controllers laying in front of it, as if they were only waiting to be used in a game. On his left, there was a tall stairway with a white ramp that led to an unseen upstairs. He could see the familiar kitchen a few feet away. He knew that place, but they couldn’t possibly be back. His heart was beating to a rhythm that definitely wasn’t a healthy one as he puzzledly looked at Wanda.

“Wait for it,” excitedly said the redhead, “the best is about to come.”

She seemed so happy; he hadn’t really seen her that way after the whole Westview incident. They were both too deep in grief to let themselves be, Peter charted this as some kind of survivor’s guilt. Something was definitely amiss. He didn’t have time to question her before a double set of footsteps hurried down the stairs.

“Uncle P!”

“Uncle P, you’re back!”

The twins ran to him and jumped on the couch before squeezing him in a tight hug. Peter didn’t react, it felt so real, but there was no way it could be. They were gone, they’d never existed in the first place. Billy was excitedly telling him how he could now move objects with his mind and Tommy kept running around the couch, rambling about how much faster he was.

“Almost as fast as you!”

This was wrong, none of it could possibly be real. They weren’t even in the right universe. Had Wanda found them somehow? He couldn’t continue wondering on how the boys could possibly be there as he spotted Vision going down the stairs as well.

“Well, he does look surprised to see us, doesn’t he, darling?” He asked to Wanda with an amused smile.

“Yes, he does,” chuckled the redhead in response.

“Wanda, what’s going on?” The twins being there, there was a possibility, maybe their souls had been transported some place where they were trapped, but Vision? The android had been the one thing that was for certain a pure creation of Wanda’s grief, he couldn’t possibly be standing next to her.

She smirked and gently took her husband’s hand, looking at him lovingly before turning her head back to him. “I’ve been practicing with the Darkhold, you wouldn’t believe all the knowledge it contains!” She seemed so giddy; he wasn’t sure how he should react. The last person to have used this book was Agatha and she came close to destroying them all. She had to be careful, who knew the traps it could contain. She let go of Vision’s hand and opened the book. “You don’t have to worry about it, Peter, none of it is real. It’s just an illusion.”

The speedster didn’t move, all of this… was wrong. The book was obviously pure evil, she couldn’t trust it. It would definitely corrupt her in the long run. Wanda seemed to notice his hesitation, she frowned. “If you’re not satisfied, I can always show you what you missed!” She motioned to the twins, telling them to hold on to him as she flipped a few pages. Ominous orange energy glowed from them. This was so wrong; how could she be blind to this? She muttered a few words in a language he couldn’t understand, and the surroundings changed once more. The stairs disappeared first, the floor morphed into a carpet and then a step appeared. There was a chimney next to an exposed brick wall and a rectangle diner table was in the middle of the room. The couch changed to an L shaped one and the television changed to a vintage one. The most unsettling thing was how everything was in black, white, and various shades of grey. He, Wanda, the twins, and Vision were dressed in old fashioned clothes. It was so strange; he didn’t know how to react. The others seemed unfazed, and Peter had to remind himself that none of it truly was happening. Tommy and Billy grabbed him, each one holding an arm and were trying to get him to his feet. They were talking about wanting to show him their drawings, but Wanda stopped them.

“Now boys, remember what I told you,” she warned them, “leave your uncle some space.”

“Oh right, I forgot!” said Tommy as they let go of him. Billy fidgeted with his fingers and apologized to both him and his mom.

“Wanda, why are you doing this?” He looked at the boys who were now staring at him with wide eyes, probably waiting for him to play with them.

“Y-you asked me if I’d go back to Westview if I could. You agreed with me when I said I would if it didn’t hurt anyone.” She sat down next to him and took his hands. “Well, I achieved it. No one is suffering. It took me weeks of practice, but I wanted everything to be perfect. So, you could see the boys again, so you wouldn’t be the only speedster.” She looked down at the floor in disappointment, “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Great, now he was feeling bad. He didn’t really know how to feel. on one hand, he was glad to see his nephews again, but he was well aware that nothing there was real. He supposed that it was because Wanda was still learning, but it felt wrong. A bit how his mind had been screaming at him when Agatha was puppeteering him around. He suddenly had the urge to run and flee, but it was ridiculous because she was his sister. Even his alternate universe sibling probably wouldn’t hurt him. Well, now she wouldn’t. She knew better.

His mind went into overdrive and it caught the redhead off guard. He understood why, obviously she had figured he would be happy. Tommy and Billy were asking him why he looked so distressed, probably an extent of Wanda’s consciousness. They couldn’t truly be worried because they were never real in the first place.

He could hear Wanda starting to worry, telling him how he needed to calm his mind because it was a lot of energy to maintain the illusion, but he didn’t listen. He was stuck in his thoughts; he hadn’t realized just how much his experience had scarred him. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong everything was. He didn’t like this, he hated it. He wanted to be happy because it was certain that Wanda would not repeat this experience after his meltdown, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down.

Vision and the twins faded away, along with the weird unsaturated room. The new place was a lot darker. And he was alone. There was a weird humidity in the air and Peter’s heart started beating even faster because he knew those pillars, and those stone walls with the creepy vines covering them. There was a beam of light coming from a small window on one the wall. He could hear footsteps and he barely had the time to turn that Agatha herself was looking at him with malicious eyes. He took a step forward but couldn’t get anywhere because he was trapped in the vines again. The witch took his chin in her hand, a wide grin on her face. She was gloating, he could tell she was delighted about the situation he was in. She was telling him all about her master plan to break out of Wanda’s spell.

“You know, Wanda’s mind was too shielded for me to do anything, but you,” she smirked as she narrowed her eyes at him, “you, with all your suffering and your self doubts. I can slip right through those cracks. Make myself home.” She leaned in close to his ear, “we made a great team before Wanda changed the spell to make you her own.”

His heart was practically beating out of his chest now. This couldn’t be happening, they had escaped, hell they were in another dimension. There was no way she could be there; Wanda had taken care of her. Yet, everything felt so real. Agatha’s fingers had felt so harsh on his skin, the air was so stale, and the vines were practically choking him. Had Wanda’s spell failed? Could he really be back in Westview?

“You know, I waited.” She took a few steps back dramatically. “I waited for weeks, for your sister to delve into the book. To read the pages and feel its power.”

“No…” He closed his eyes in denial, he had thought about it before, but it couldn’t be. She couldn’t mean-

“Yes,” she grinned, a menacing glint in her eyes. “You see, I always plan in advance. The more she uses it, the more her grip over me weakens. Soon enough…” Agatha suddenly stopped talking. Peter opened his eyes, unsure about what he would see. To his horror, she had changed, and Wanda was now standing in front of him. “… she’ll be just as corrupted as I was.”

He could hear someone calling his name, but he was all to focused on the witch who was cackling like a mad woman to make out who it was. It felt so wrong to see Wanda acting so evil, but was Agatha right? The book was evil, he had seen it himself. Could it be changing Wanda without her noticing it? He didn’t have time to dwell on his fears. Everything disappeared around him and he was back in his room. Wanda was looking at him with a concerned gaze, she was holding him by the shoulders. She had probably tried to shake him awake.

“Are you okay?”

Peter didn’t answer her, he was trying to get his heartbeat and breathing under control. Was he really back at the mansion? It certainly felt real, but so had Agatha’s basement. He slowly got up and stretched his arms, making sure he truly was free. He had never felt so vulnerable in life, even with the blue fake god. At least, he had only faced him once. He turned to Wanda, who was still looking at him.

“W-what happened?” he stammered, still a little confused about the whole experience.

She took a deep breath, “the spell enabled me to create an illusion. It worked when I was level-headed and focused; I didn’t expect you to react that way.” She squeezed her eyes in regrets. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to follow. You brain was going so fast; I couldn’t keep up. The spell just fed on your mind and transported you to whatever you were thinking about. I-I had no idea she had treated you that way, you never said a word. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

She pulled him in a tight hug and continued muttering apologies. Peter hugged her back, still not sure about the whole situation. “It felt so real. I really thought I was back.” They let go and he looked at her in the eyes. “Agatha, she… she told me stuff about you, well us, but I’m more concerned about you.”

“Peter, as real as it might have felt, the spell is nothing more than an illusion. It was fuelled by your subconscious, your thoughts, and your fears. In the end, none of it was real.” He could hear the unspoken ‘like Westview’, but he didn’t mention it.

While his sister might have been right, but there was still the fact that Agatha was very old and very powerful. “She talked about a link she had with the spell book, how they were still connected. She said- she said that the more you use it, the weaker your magic is on her. She’s trying to get free.”

Wanda looked at him with a reassuring gaze and smiled. “Don’t worry, I am being careful. My mental shields are up at all times.”

That did make him feel better, but he reminded himself that the witch had told him of her backup plan. “She... she said she would possess me again because my shields weren’t as strong as yours. She said you’d never suspect a thing.”

“It was turning all your fears against you, none of it was real,” reassured Wanda. “By the way, I think we have the same mental resistance, except that you don’t even have to think about it.”

He hated this, why had the spell backfired? He could have had a nice reunion with his nephews had he been able to control himself. Now, he was just stuck with fears of losing Wanda. She had to be aware of the risks. “But it brought up some valid concerns. The book is dark magic, what if it corrupts you? I don’t really want you going to the dark side.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she winked at him. “I’ll do like Luke, resist it and eventually destroy it.”

A knock on the door made them both jump. Erik’s head popped in, he looked concerned. His gaze hardened when he spotted Wanda next to him. “I- Charles heard your distress, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Of course, the telepath would have heard. He pitied the man, feeling what he had been feeling mustn’t have been a good experience. Especially in such early hours of the morning. Peter motioned him to come closer, he wouldn’t mind having his sister and his dad finally getting along. Their relationship was strained to say the least. Wanda didn’t want to intrude; she had decided to let Erik do the first steps. He had told her that his dad was way too stubborn to make any sort of first contact, but she had been okay with that. Since then, they had barely exchanged more than five sentences. Erik sat on his desk chair, looking warily at the redhead that was sitting next to the speedster, on his bed. He chose to turn to his son. “What happened?”

“Its my fault,” interrupted Wanda, making the metal bender turn his head sharply in her direction. “I tried a spell and underestimated my control over it.”

Peter could see how the man clenched his jaw and how the bits of metal in his room started clanking. Erik was getting mad. He had to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Wanda. “Dad,” he whispered, making him turn to him. The man was still surprised every time he called him that. “You can’t blame her. She tried to make me feel better; it’s my crazy fast mind that screwed everything up.” His father looked at him, unconvinced, but at least, the metal around them stopped moving. Peter counted that as a win. He cleared his throat, “dad, why do you hate Wanda?”

The question made the man froze for a few seconds before he answered. “I don’t… I don’t hate her,” Peter raised an eyebrow at him, Erik sighed. “It’s true, I don’t hate her. But what you did only served as a reminder that I’m just as powerless to protect my family as I was when the Nazis killed my parents and when the authorities murdered my wife and daughter in front of me.” He didn’t look at them in the eyes. His shoulders were hunched over as if a cloak of sadness and grief was draped over them. “We are similar in our loss, but you took my son away, stripped him of his identity and made him into your puppet. We had to watch, uncertain of his future, if he even had one. For a moment, I was certain we had lost him forever.” Erik finally met Wanda’s eyes, who looked at him apologetically. “So, no, I do not hate you, but you almost took the only family I had left. Not only that, but I have to live with the fact that he is your brother the same way you are my daughter, and I cannot accept this. Not right now at least.”

With that, the man swiftly got up and left the room. Wanda and Peter didn’t say anything as they were left alone once more. The speedster was deep in thought, he had never seen his father in such a fragile light. He really should have controlled his mind.

***

Notes: So, this was a chapter I wasn't sure I was going to include since it sort of opens up storylines I don't want to explore, but I loved it a lot so I hope you did too! One of my personal theory of how Agatha could come back with the darkhold is one I only put in because I hope to see it happen XD Next chapter: Erik and Wanda have a talk