#and i hope there are not too many errors

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[xoxoemynn]

I came up with the idea for today's love fest over the weekend when I saw a lot of comments from people expressing sadness about the cancellation, and then also some embarrassment for feeling that way, or feeling alone in their emotions. I wanted to do something positive that felt personal and that would remind people that fandom isn't going anywhere.

Originally I thought to do it a few days after the WJW with DJenks, figuring we'd need another boost after that high wore off. Obviously the WJW didn't end up happening, but then I realized it was Rhys' birthday today, so that also felt like a great reason to spread a bit of love (not that you ever need a reason for that!).

And honestly, while the whole point was to make other people smile, the whole experience really boosted my own spirits tremendously. While stalking perusing everyone's blogs for inspo, I was reminded quite powerfully just how many extremely kind, talented, smart, funny, insightful, beautiful people there are in this fandom.

So I just want to say thank you. All of you who create gifs, make art, write fic, analyze the show, share shit posts, or reblog all of the above so we can see it again and again and again, you have made a difference in my fandom experience. With every post, you made me fall in love with Ed and Stede and the whole crew just a little bit more. Whether you're someone who's always in the tags or someone who prefers to quietly reblog, you have made my time here very special and I'm so grateful. 💕

[kikikakapo-art]

Gift for @sleepinginmute

It’s them!!!!! I really really love the designs and the ship and them being in a QPR so I just had to draw them!!!

Hope I did them justice :>

[the-star-and-the-smols]

Sean McCool

Chapter 1: A Big Day For The Irish

Word count: like 3600

Rating: Teen

Warnings: fearplay, injury

Arthur is startled awake by the most unusual of sounds in the night. Thunderous booms, the deafening sound of shuffling against grass and dirt, the horses crying. His first thought is a strong storm, but opening his eyes to a starry morning sky peppered with small white clouds dismisses this possibility. As he forces himself awake, a number of awful scenarios run through his mind: bounty hunters, Pinkertons, O'Driscolls, common thieves. He draws his pistol as he blinks, scanning through the blur of his sleep.

"Who goes there?"

Not a word or sound save from the panic of the horses hitched on a nearby tree. However, something else immediately captures his interest. Something very large, taller than he is, and spanning an impressive distance, like a long wall. Different colors, too, as it goes along. Browns, a deep blue, a light patterned blue, some soft reds and greens, softly glowing in the moonlight.

"Arthur?"

From behind him, Hosea rises to his feet and comes to stand beside him.

"Hosea.... Do you know what the hell I'm lookin' at here? I can't make heads or tails o��� this thing right now."

"Might've been what spooked the horses.... I don't know. Give me a minute, will you?"

Hosea makes his way toward the wall, studying it with an intense curiosity. "Looks... strangely familiar, though I can't put my finger on why."

"All I see is a wall. ‘Course, that don't make much sense. Got an interestin’ shape to it, that's for sure."

Hosea backs up cautiously as the wall seems to move upward and downward with a sound that can only be described as a low, deep sigh.

"I don't think this is a wall, son," he croaks deeply, his gaze shifting back and forth between different ends of the so-called wall.

"Then what the hell do you think it is?"

"I-I think it's a giant!" Hosea wheezes.

"A giant?! Hosea, you must'a drank more than you thought you did. Giants ain't real, now I know you of all people got sense enough to know that," he barks at the older man with a confused look.

"Shh, not so loud," he whispers, "You'll wake it. And-and it don't make a lick of sense to me either, but-but look." He points shakily to a light-colored, oddly shaped section of the wall that seems to jut out from a strange tunnel of cloth. "That's a hand."

Arthur's brow furrows curiously as he takes a few steps toward the appendage, holstering his gun but keeping his hand on it.

"Don't touch it, Arthur."

Arthur nods as he continues to inspect the thing, looking down at his hand then back up again at the towering object, curled up and still taller than himself. Up, down, up, down again. He stumbles back, his mouth becoming an entry point for any flying insect that dares to become breakfast.

"What. The. Hell?!"

"See, I told you. What else could it be?"

"I see yer point," Arthur surrenders, continuing to back away until he's behind Hosea. With the realization, the wall seems to morph into something a lot less wall-like and a lot more human-like. It rises and falls rhythmically with a low gust of air. Arthur watches as Hosea makes his way to the other end of the giant, the part with red and green.

"We need to wake Sean and get the hell outta here!!!!" Arthur scans the environment for any sign of his friend. "Hey, where is that little Irish weasel anyway? He was right-"

Arthur freezes in place, an icy chill running through his veins as his mind starts putting two and two together.

"There.... OH MY-"

"-I'm afraid we're looking at him," Hosea interjects, his voice wavering with emotion. "His head is up this way." He motions for Arthur to come closer.

Arthur doesn't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it; it all seems so absurd. He has to prove it for himself, as gut-wrenching as that may be, if only to convince himself he hasn't gone completely nuts, or had too much to drink, so he walks toward Hosea's position, his light step on the dirt feeling like a trudge through mud. He approaches the patch of soft orangey reds that starts to make a lot more sense, running the strands through his fingers like long, thin cables. He recognizes Sean's ear, what must easily be the height of his own body. Maybe even more.

"Goddamn..." He mutters in utter disbelief. Blue eyes widen, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

Just then, a deep, loud, Sean-like grumble is heard and felt in the ground. The curtain of hair begins to shift, moving toward the two at an alarming pace.

"We gotta MOVE!" Arthur bleats, turning tail toward the woods. Hosea follows him as quickly as he can, soon falling into a coughing fit and forced to stop in his tracks. Arthur sees this, but before he has the chance to run and assist him, his father figure is halfway pinned underneath Sean's massive cheek, his legs almost completely buried. The giant grumbles in his sleep as he settles on his side, completely unaware of the mess unfolding before him.

"Hosea!" Arthur runs to his aid. Sean's breath washes over his whole body in warm, damp gusts as his face is now turned toward the pair, yet it chills the surface of his skin. It's an eerie, disturbing feeling he tries his best to disregard; there are more pressing matters at the moment.

Shit, that’s still pretty hard to ignore.

"Well, at least he was considerate enough to spare my head and torso," Hosea croaks, trying to make light of the situation. He pulls at his legs with his hands to free them, but they only barely budge.

"You alright, Hosea?" Arthur kneels down next to him, searching his features for any trace of discomfort.

"Not too bad right now," he grunts in a pained voice, "but I need to get the pressure off these legs, quick. Give me a hand here."

"Mhm." Arthur pulls at one of Hosea's thighs with the weight of his arms and upper body. It budges a little, but still remains wedged under Sean's cheek.

"Shoot. No luck," Hosea mutters, eyes welling with tears.

"Lemme try somethin' else here." Arthur gets down in a seated position next to Hosea, pressing his boots against the cheek. He tugs the skin and fat of Sean's cheek upward with his boots, the friction with his stubble emitting a sound akin to a shave, then once again using the force of his upper body strength to pry Hosea's leg free. This time, the limb easily slides outward, giving Hosea a bit of relief.

"Great, now the other one."

Arthur moves to Hosea's other side, doing the same for his right leg. The prodding of Sean's cheek makes his nose and mouth twitch, drawing the pair's attention to it briefly before focusing back on the task at hand. "Alright, this one's in there pretty deep, so, try and pull with me, okay?"

Hosea nods as the two pull, heaving and grunting before finally freeing his foot of their friend's face, as well as his boot.

"You okay?" Arthur asks, inspecting the leg and foot for any sign of injury.

"Somewhat." He flexes the limb, wincing and groaning with pain. "I think it got pretty banged up. Still, I don't think it's broken."

"Sorry to hear. You don't look so good. Hopefully it ain't broken, at least. " Arthur sighs, taking in the sight of his gang brother's massive head. He chuckles at the sight, then turns back to the older man. "Good lord, he's enormous... Can't even imagine what kinda shit he'd get into when he wakes up. His ego was already big enough before." The thought gives Arthur a headache.

Hosea's eyes are still set on the giant's features in front of them, concerned. "Looks like we're about to find out."

Sean's eyelids peel open only very slightly, and he rubs his eyes with massive fingers. He grumbles, vibrating the ground underneath him in a pained voice.

"Oh, me head... Feels like… egh, shite…"

Sean's voice is startlingly loud and deep, and the two back away to give him some space, with Hosea forced to shuffle back on his rear due to his injured leg.

"Ugh..."

Sean sits up, casting the two in shadow. His hat remains on the ground, his eyes opening further.

"Where the hell am I?"

He scans the environment, the rays of the morning sun creeping over the trees and blinding him. Holding his hand in front of him, he turns his gaze downward to avoid the sun's glare, trying to make sense of the two little blobs he notices on the ground. He blinks.

"What's this now?"

He picks one of them up, Arthur, who is unpleasantly surprised by the fingers that effortlessly wrap around him almost painfully, pinning his arms to his sides and restricting his mobility. As he's whisked dozens of feet in the air in seconds, his stomach seems to want to linger on the ground for a few moments, and Sean certainly doesn't give it the opportunity to catch up. His surroundings are a blur until the movement slows and halts at his friend's face. He knows it's Sean, he's known him for years. The young redhead's always been like an annoying little brother to him, but that closeness and friendship was left at the ground below. As he’s enveloped in the massive hand of a familiar stranger, a frigid heat crawls over his skin, up his spine. He can hear nothing but the throb of his own heartbeat in his ears, his head thick.

Little brother? Not so little now.

Now, Arthur is constricted by an enormous hand, and his entire field of vision is filled with nothing but Sean. Green irises like serving plates pierce through Arthur's invisible armor, making him feel unusually vulnerable under his gaze. Here he was, at the complete mercy of a powerful fool. If it had been a total stranger, he manages to think, it would be less scary right now. He knows this behemoth, impulsive and reckless, and it leaves Arthur petrified, hardly able to breathe.

The brow furrows, eyes and pupils expanding, and as he speaks, Arthur can feel a gentle buzz through his fingers.

"..Arthur?!?"

Sean’s expression becomes warmer as he recognizes his friend, so teeny in his hand. Creases form around his eyes, a sign that he's smiling; there's just so much of Sean to take in that Arthur is really only able to focus on those massive jade irises, burning so intensely with curiosity it becomes impossible to tear his gaze away, no matter how desperately he wants to.

And Arthur knows better than most, there's a lot you can tell about what a feller is thinking through eyes and eyes alone. The sense of wonder and amusement in the younger man's gaze is palpable, and although familiar, is so much bigger and brighter than he’s ever witnessed. He can feel Sean's pulse through his fingers, and the grip finally loosens enough to not be uncomfortable, allowing for Arthur to move his arms finally. Not that that's much help, since he really only has Sean's thumb to grab onto.

"Wh- what the fuck? How-how'd ya get so- uh... little?!"

He stammers in disbelief.

Sean's breath rustles Arthur's hair as he speaks, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes. His rough voice is painfully loud and detailed in his ear, and slightly deeper than he's used to. Arthur can't help but chuckle awkwardly at the unusual situation; it's really the only response he can muster other than the scream lingering in his throat.

"I-I ain't little, Sean. Just.. take a look around ya!"

Arthur is momentarily relieved of the intensity of his gaze as Sean looks around, noticing the ends of his hair brushing against his blazer like an enormous broom. It's easier for Arthur to take everything in when he's not being stared down by a pair of humongous eyes. A breath of fresh air.

The Irishman looks upon the landscape surrounding him, noticing how he easily dwarfs the trees, even from his seated position.

"Jeeeeesus..."

He lets out a low, piercing whistle, then turns back to Arthur, a smug grin stretching out further than Arthur is tall.

"Y'know, Arthur Morgan, you aren't nearly as ugly from this point of view. Dare I say it, yer almost adorable."

"Oh, please-" Arthur can feel the wall of fingers constricting his limbs once more, and Sean becomes giddier than ever as he seems to get further away, moving Arthur back a bit to inspect him with better focus. The sensation is dizzying.

"I mean it! Yer like a tiny little doll in my hand. A grumpy one at that~!!! It's endearing! Y'know, I've always liked the idea of bein' bigger and stronger, but this is somethin' else! A right fantasy, this is!!! A dream!!! Am I dreamin'?!"

"SEAN!" A voice barks from below them.

Sean’s gaze turns downward toward Hosea, who sits with his legs stretched out on the grass.

"Put him down, son! Right now! You're hurting him!" Hosea commands.

He looks back at Arthur, who seems quite a bit more purple than usual at the moment. The younger man's features immediately soften with concern, and he loosens his grip on the outlaw as he lowers him to the ground, much more slowly than his startling ascent moments ago.

"O-of course, Mr. Matthews!"

A disoriented Arthur slides off of Sean's fingers and onto the ground, landing in a heap with a soft "oof."

"Sorry, English. Y'okay?"

Arthur lets out a muffled "yep" from his crumpled position before righting himself, sitting with his legs sprawled out like Hosea.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sean's mouth from the affirmation. There is a moment of stunned silence between the three of them, the gangster-turned-giant running his fingers through the grass, his eyes glued to the two on the ground as he orients himself to this reality. His fingers suddenly brush up against a solid object, which he lifts up to eye level. A boot. Realizing Hosea's sock is exposed, he lowers the boot pinched between two fingers to Hosea, receiving a soft "thank you."

"No problem."

He yawns, rubbing his temple.

"Could surely use a cup of coffee right now, though. What a way to wake up."

"I don't think they make coffee cups that big," Arthur laughs. "I'm afraid you're outta luck."

"What the hell happened anyways?! Last thing I remember, I was celebratin', havin' a few drinks with the pair o' yous. Now this!"

"I don't know," Arthur replies. "Maybe it was that special shine you got all excited about. 'Course, moonshine can do a lot, but I ain't ever heard about it makin' men grow into giants.”

Hosea chimes in. "No, you got a point, Arthur. Don't make sense to me that it happened in the first place, strange as it is, but, as you said, so was that vendor."

Arthur groans. "I never shoulda bought that shit for him. Why couldn't I have just got him a new shirt, or a holster, or somethin' for Ennis-"

"-You serious, Morgan? My birthday, and you're giftin' a horse-"

"-or a muzzle, for that goddamn mouth of his!!"

"Well, as they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth! Hahahahaha!"

Sean retorts playfully.

"Shut up," Arthur growls. "This ain't no joke!"

"You just findin’ that out, Englishman?! This is bloody remarkable! Just look at me!"

He gestures to himself, his arm span the length of a baseball field, eyes wide beyond belief.

"I gotta test somethin' for meself here!"

The pair watch as Sean reaches for the trunk of a nearby cedar, the length of half his arm. He wraps a hand around it near the bottom, and twists it free almost effortlessly, shaking the dirt from the roots.

"HAHAHAHA! Look at this, boys! I'm the strongest man on Earth!"

He brags, his tone livelier than ever, booming and echoing in the mountains with a bassy tone. He lifts his arms above his head in a strongman pose, fist still clenched around the tree he so easily uprooted.

"Just wait 'til them girls see me! I'll be havin’ to fight ‘em off me-"

"Will you quit mouthin' for ten goddamn seconds and LISTEN?!" Arthur barks up at Sean, clenching his fists. When Sean lowers his arms, he continues. "We gotta get Hosea to a doctor."

Sean's smile fades.

"..Doctor? What for? You alright, Hosea?"

He leans in closer, inspecting the older man.

Hosea hums, pain apparent in his speech. "Not particularly. Leg got busted up pretty bad. But I'll make it."

"... How'd that happen?"

Arthur and Hosea exchange glances, unsure of how to respond.

"D-did I..?"

Sean points to his chest with tightening fingers.

Hosea purses his lips, sighing. "I'm afraid so, Sean."

The redhead shuffles back slightly, sending slight shockwaves through the earth below him.

"Shit, I-I-I'm sorry!"

"Accidents happen, Sean," Hosea assures him. "It's okay. It could have happened with anyone."

"Could it, really?" Arthur remarks skeptically.

Hosea pulls out a mortar and pestle from his bag, beginning to grind some herbs. "Let's just get ready. We've got a long journey ahead of us. Would you mind brewing us some coffee, Arthur?"

"Sure." Arthur takes the pot and grounds from his bag.

"Anything I can help with?"

Sean asks, his eyes darting between the two as he sets the tree down near the forest with a crash.

"Now you mention it," Hosea responds, "the horses seem awful spooked. Maybe now's a good time to get 'em used to ya. Wouldn't want 'em,” he grunts, “runnin' away soon as they got untethered."

"Will do. Though I don't suppose I'll be ridin' Ennis back to camp,"

he chuckles half-heartedly, getting down on his belly, the tremors in the earth from his movements making the horses whinny and cry.

"Shh, it's okay, now, it's only me."

He reaches his hand out toward the horses, uncertain.

"I won't hurt ya..."

No luck. The horses buck, trying to break free.

“Woah, easy there!”

He pulls his hand back slowly to avoid startling them further.

"Y'know, Sean, I've been thinking," Hosea adds, "Somehow it seems whatever you were wearing when you slept grew with you overnight-"

"Thank God for that," Arthur mutters, getting a scoop of coffee grounds.

"-So, what did you have in your bag? Edible, I mean?"

Sean looks to his satchel, still draped over his shoulder from the night before. He shuffles through it.

"Tin o' crackers, peaches, a carrot-"

"Perfect! Feed that to the horses!" Hosea yells out excitedly.

Sean grins, finally catching on.

"Ohoho, they're gonna love this one!"

He pulls out a fresh carrot, the height of a two-story building.

"Damn," Arthur remarks, "Sure don't see that every day." The two smaller men share a chuckle.

"Hey beauties, ya like carrots? Well I've got a real whopper for ya!"

Sean experimentally holds the carrot out, wiggling it slightly to entice the horses, which still buck and neigh at Sean's movements, but less so.

"C'mon, horses. Sean's got a real treat for ya!"

The first horse to seem interested is Ennis, who nudges his snout in Sean's direction hungrily.

"That's it! That's my boy!"

Sean pinches a small piece off the end of the carrot with his finger, very slowly reaching out toward Ennis, the bit of carrot pinched between his fingers. Ennis whinnies, and Sean shushes him, speaking in an almost whisper.

"It's okay! You know me!"

Ennis seems calmer, eager to bite the carrot. Sean opens his fingers, the chunk of enormous vegetable sitting on the tip of his middle digit. The horse approaches him warily, finally taking a bite.

"Yes, that's it! Good boy! Tasty, innit? Hehehe."

Seeing Ennis enjoying the carrot piques the other horses' interests, and they begin to point their snouts toward him.

Arthur pours Hosea’s coffee, handing it to him and receiving a quiet ‘thanks.’ The two watch Sean with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Hosea, what in the hell are we gonna do about this?" Arthur whispers, trying to maintain enough volume to be heard over Sean’s re-taming of the horses.

"I don't rightly know myself. I’ve seen a lot in my day, but this sure as shit beats all!"

“Well the way I see it, it looks like we got a mighty big problem on our hands.”

“The biggest yet.” Hosea empties the ground herbs into his coffee cup, swirling it around. “We’ll find a way to get him back to normal. Sean's a good kid, got a lotta heart. He just needs some direction, and discipline.”

“I ain't so sure discipline is gonna cut it now, Hosea. He could overpower all of us, easy! Hell, he don’t listen to me half the time at normal size; I can only imagine he'll laugh in my face now if I so much as disagree with him on how we should go about things.”

Hosea lets out a light chuckle. “Let's… hope not.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “He may be young and foolish, but he cares about this gang. And if he cares, he’ll listen.”

“Maybe. I just hope you're right. I guess we’ll just… take it as it comes.” Arthur shrugs.

“That’s seemed to work for us so far.” Hosea smiles a little as he watches the horses, now all happily eating chunks of carrot out of Sean’s palm.

[scootarooni]

happy birthday queen 👑⭐

[nokk0]

Heeeeeeeey!! U know?? Valfrey need a bit of help in the poll!! Come on! Vote for Valfrey!!! >:3

The samurai, reaper, poet... The Dark-Winged Disaster...

VALFREY!!

Vote 4 Valfrey >:3

@gethoce

@kirbyoctournament

[daily-sloop-john-b]

I know we all love to say "fuck mystra" this and/or Gale's Folly (subtitled: How Could You Be Such A Callous Idiot)—but really, Gale and Mystra are primarily REALLY BAD at communicating. The whole issue started when Mystra a) couldn't provide a satisfying answer to Gale's desire for more, b) Gale decided that instead of being vulnerable and working through it, he'd do a Secret Project(TM), c) Gale didn't bother telling Mystra what said project was, and/or she only vaguely warned him off it. And then Gale rolled a nat 1 on his arcana check, and then a second nat 1 for insight b/c the DM was attempting to take mercy on him and was staring at Gale and the book, worrying 4d6 under the table while not breaking eye contact and saying, very slowly, "...are you sure?"

[midnight-stormm]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Touch-Starved Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff and Humor, kissing and cuddles, lot of cuddles, happiness, the boys are silly and in love, Established Relationship, Light Angst, mentions of stress, mention of insecurities, Idiots in Love Summary:

Sapnap was starting to become overstimulated with the amount of workload he's been doing the past couple of months and all he wants is warm arms to wrap around his body as he feels the tension slowly ease away from his bones. The downside to all of this is that one of his boyfriends, Dream, is too indulgent in his upcoming project while the other one, George, doesn't like hugs. So all Sapnap could do was lay on the couch in the living room and watch his favorite anime, holding onto the pillow to represent a warm embrace.

Sapnap is feeling a bit stressed out, craving a warm embrace from his two boyfriends and hoping they could take two minutes out of their busy schedule to cuddle him.

[shady-tavern]

Vampire’s Lullaby Part 2

Part One

Warnings for implied harm and death that happen off-screen. Otherwise, this chapter turned out to be rather soft.

***

The morning came, pale and peaceful and nothing was amiss. If anything, when she passed by the other hunters of their street on her way to work, they were in good spirits. They wished Dion a speedy recovery and told her to talk to them if she or her family needed anything.

She did not walk too fast, as she did all mornings now since saving the monster boy, making sure the shop was bathed in pale light by the time she arrived. It was almost strange, how normal everything was. She set the shop up as usual and greeted Mr. Bell when he arrived.

She had half expected things to go wrong, for some kind of punishment to come down upon her head for mingling with night creatures. Or that the vampire herself was going to do anything. But nothing.

The day passed like any other and that night the vampire was back once more, sitting on the roof and keeping watch. They spoke with each other for a moment and the vampire was polite and even friendly. Annabelle once again fell asleep to soft singing and woke to pale morning light, everyone she knew safe and sound.

A week passed in this manner and Annabelle started to look forward to the nights a little. To how quiet it had become and to the soft bit of conversation she shared with the vampire.

Right up until Mr. Bell sharply called her name during work, startling her out of her focused work.

Hurrying out of the back, she drew to a stop when she saw the man standing on the other side of the counter. Dressed in expensive, embroidered brocade, a necklace heavy with emeralds hanging about his throat and buttons gleaming golden. He must be one of the nobles and he looked very impatient.

His attitude did not improve as they took his order. The baron, as he introduced himself, was less than eager to be here, but apparently he needed to get something done fast and they had been recommended to him. He promised a pay hefty enough that Annabelle nearly gasped out loud and left them with a handful of gems he wanted to be part of the front cover.

"You're a true treasure," Mr. Bell whispered as soon as the baron had left, getting into an equally gleaming and elegant carriage, drawn by two snow-white horses. "You worked so hard even the upper crust heard of us."

Annabelle felt a small, hysterical giggle escape before she bit back the rest. Mr. Bell and she stared at each other, before they both started grinning and bustled into the back, chattering back and forth as they rapidly got to work.

If this man was satisfied or even happy with his order, they might get more expensive clientele. Mr. Bell was singing a cheerful song that usually was usually heard in taverns over an ale and Annabelle joined in, neither of them caring that they were not great singers in the least.

The day passed far too fast and even though Mr. Bell stayed until the final bell of the evening, they weren't quite done with the baron's order yet. The baron wanted to retrieve his book first thing in the morning and while such an order would have been nearly impossible for anyone else, they really wanted to get it done.

"We best get going," Mr. Bell said with great reluctance. "I'm sure we can finish it at dawn."

Annabelle glanced down at the book, then outside, gauging the position of the sun. "I'll finish up and run home," she said. "It should be done in just a few more minutes, right? Half an hour at most, it will still be bright enough that not many night creatures are out and about."

Mr. Bell hesitated, then sighed, "If you are sure?" At her nod he grabbed his things. "Alright, but don't come in first thing in the morning, understood? You deserve to sleep in after all this. And no matter what, your life is more important than money, understood? If you get worried or scared, go home right away."

She couldn't help but smile and nodded, focusing back on the book as he left. It was going to be a beautiful piece, made of dark green, thin leather, embossed with gold letters and decorated with the gems the baron had left them with.

When she was finally done, feeling satisfied and her back cracking as she straightened, she looked up and felt her heart drop into her stomach. It was pitch-dark outside.

How? How had she gotten so lost in her work that she had missed the way light had disappeared, only replaced by the lanterns and candles Mr. Bell had left on. Her mouth turned dust dry.

There was no way she'd get home safe. Maybe, if she was really, really quiet, managed to extinguish all light and hid under her desk, no night creature noticed her in here. Maybe she could hide here and hold out until morning.

The tinkle of the bell of the front door made her flinch and startle onto her feet. Had Mr. Bell not looked the door? Had he left the lights on out in the shop as well?

"Hello?" a woman's voice called out, curious and a little befuddled. "I saw the lights on, are you still in?"

It took her a second to recognize the voice over her panic and pounding heart. It was the vampire she had asked for help. What was she doing here?

"You didn't return home," the vampire continued and Annabelle heard the muffled sound of steps, as though the night creature was walking slowly up and down the shop. "If you are done for the day, I will wait outside for you. Unless you'd like to walk home alone?"

And be eaten? Surely not. "Thank you," she found herself saying, her pounding heart finally easing a bit.

"I told you I'd look after you and yours," the vampire said and Annabelle heard the tinkle of bells. "Those books are beautiful, by the way."

Then the vampire was gone and she exhaled in a rush, sagging a bit as tension drained out of her. Her hands shook a little when she rubbed them over her face, before she reached for her shawl.

She was scared to go outside, but she couldn't stay here. If she stayed, so did the vampire and then who would look after her family? Extinguishing all the lights, she wrapped the shawl tightly around herself and stepped outside.

Nerves made her hands a bit clumsy as she locked the door, glancing around. It was quiet and no street lights were lit in the crossroads, since no one lived here and the city had considered it a waste of resources. It took her a moment to notice the large shadow in the dark, wings half unfolded for balance as the vampire crouched on the ledge of a roof.

"I'm ready," she whispered, shoulders tense and heart still pitter-pattering nervously. She tried to calm down, taking a few deep breaths until she felt less like she was going to scream in fright at the next thing that moved too fast and too unexpectedly.

When she started walking, the vampire followed easily above her. It was surprisingly calm all around and she neither heard nor saw anything. The vampire didn't have to snarl or hiss, just paused once and tensed, clacking her claws warningly against shingles, then moved on like nothing had happened.

It made her wonder how powerful the vampire must be, to so easily command the space she walked through. By the time Annabelle hurried down the main road towards home, she felt...safe. Unexpectedly so, considering she was outside in the dark.

The other hunters of their street were worried and glad to see her, escorting her to the front door of her home and reprimanding her for staying out so long.

"You were very lucky," a rough looking woman said, the one Dion always chatted with while waiting for the sun to disappear. "What would I have said your brother if you got yourself killed while he's not there?"

"It won't happen again," she promised, before the door swung open and her ashen faced mother dragged her inside and into a hug.

Annabelle endured the scolding and worrying of her family and after a quick dinner, she excused herself. She hesitated, then opened the window.

"Miss Vampire?" she whisper-called, leaning forward a bit.

When the vampire appeared, upside down, between one moment and the next, she bit back a startled scream by the skin of her teeth. Instead she inhaled sharply and flinched back a step, pressing her heart over her chest.

"Was that necessary?" she found herself gasping out, glaring at the vampire who tilted her head, mouth opening into an impish grin and wings twitching. "You're impossible." She took a calming, deep breath. "But, thank you, for bringing me home safe."

The vampire chittered at her almost softly, then waved a hand towards her bed in a shooing motion.

But Annabelle was a bit too awake now to consider sleeping. Instead she lit a candle and glanced between the clothes she had to mend and the book she had intended to read. With a soft sigh she reached for thread and needle first. Work before pleasure, her parents had always said.

A tap of claws against iron made her glance over and the vampire was gesturing at the book. Did she wish to read it? Annabelle hesitated, then picked it up.

"Return it to me before you leave," she said as she walked to the window. "Treat it well, please. Books mean a great deal to me."

The vampire took the book with visible care and disappeared. Annabelle turned back to her sewing, when she heard the vampire's voice, clear and close enough that she must be right above the window on the roof. Reading the book out loud.

Annabelle sat still for a long minute, then she found herself smiling a little and started to sew. Two chapters in however, the vampire had clear opinions on the book.

"Is this considered romantic?" her voice was full of disbelief and offense. She pitched her voice, re-reading a sentence she had just read out loud, "'Not to say you aren't beautiful, however this hair style simply does not match you.' Who asked for this fool's opinion?"

Annabelle had to bite back a startled laugh and she couldn't help but agree. The book was dreadful. However, as the vampire continued reading it genuinely got better from there. Not because the book got better, but because those affronted comments were quite funny and very amusing.

The vampire got increasingly more offended at the contents of the book and Annabelle found herself laughing at last, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"I'll bring you one of my books," the vampire groused, audibly thumbing through the book at rapid pace. "Three hundred pages of this nonsense? How are you still sane?"

"I haven't read it yet," Annabelle answered, mirth bright in her voice and that was when she realized that she had stopped being afraid. 

Somewhere between being guarded for a week, being brought home safe and being read to in an increasingly incredulous, pained manner, she had stopped fearing for herself. "I have another one you could read instead," she offered.

Instead of answering, a pale hand appeared at the top of the window, still holding the book with care. The vampire wore a delicate gold ring and a golden bracelet studded with topaz. The long sleeve that fell down to nearly her wrist was black with pale, shimmering embroidery.

Annabelle took hold of the book and traded it with one Mr. Bell had given her a couple of days ago. She settled down again as the vampire began to read and she seemed far happier with this book. In all honesty, Annabelle enjoyed this tale far more as well.

She listened to the story of a young boy who found a lost star and their journey to bring the star back home. It was the first time in far too long that an evening truly felt peaceful.

It was quiet outside, no monsters to be heard and the breeze drifting inside was cool and brought with it a refreshing scent.

Had the world been like this once upon a time? Before the dark had to be feared like it was feared today? Had there been a time when people sat together to read and chat beneath the starry sky? She had only heard about such things in stories and in this moment, she couldn't help but dream of a world so different to her own.

Something gentler, something almost peaceful. She wasn't foolish or naive enough to believe danger would disappear forever just because she wished it, but there had to be a way to make the world better than it was now.

"May I have your name?" she asked when she finished mending and the vampire paused, having read the last sentence of the book. "I would like to call you something."

The vampire hummed softly, thoughtful, but answered, "I'm Charlette, and who are you, sweet human that I guard?"

Feeling a little surprised and quietly flattered at those unexpected words, Annabelle hurriedly put away her needle and thread. "I'm Annabelle and I can honestly say that it is nice to get to know you."

Charlette chuckled. "You're the first human to say so." Annabelle heard her close the book. "Are those the sort of stories you enjoy reading?"

"Among others." Annabelle leaned back, her chair creaking softly. "I mostly love stories with happy endings."

Charlette hummed thoughtfully. "I see. I think I can find some of those." Her arm appeared at the top of the window again. "Here, I quite enjoyed this one."

Annabelle accepted her book and her breath caught in her chest when her fingertips brushed Charlette's accidentally. She was cool, but no colder than Annabelle's hands would be if she were outside right now.

"Why do you night creatures hate us so much?" The question slipped out unbidden in a soft whisper.

"I don't hate you," the vampire answered without a moment's hesitation. Then she added, "I've never had much of a problem with humans."

"Then what have we done to earn such wrath from the others? So much bloodshed and death?"

Charlette was quiet for a long moment. "I've heard rumors," she answered at last. "That humans killed the Night King."

That was the first time Annabelle heard of such a thing. "Who was the Night King?"

"A powerful and old night walker," Charlette answered. "You wouldn't find them anywhere anymore, he was the last one. I don't really know what he was like, but I know that the night folk felt safe under his protection. I don't really know much else, I haven't been long in the city and I lived in a remote, rather isolated place before that."

Annabelle frowned to herself in thought, absentmindedly tracing the letters of the storybook. "Is there a way to find out what happened? Or how to change what's happening?"

Charlette hummed, a strange, inhuman note underlying the noise. "I could look into it, if you'd like," she offered and Annabelle heard the faint tink of claws tapping thoughtfully on shingles.

"You would?" Annabelle couldn't stop the hope from singing through her voice. 

There was a soft, near chirping kind of noise. "I find I'm...I quite like you, Annabelle. It won't be much trouble to bug some acquaintances or to poke around."

Relief made her feel lighter than she had in years. She peered out the window, though she saw nothing of the vampire. There wasn't even a shadow to watch tonight, not with clouds gathering in the sky and quiet disappointment shadowed the relief. She would have liked to see her face right now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Charlette shifted on the roof and a moment later, Annabelle saw half of an elegant, black shoe dangling into view, along with the hem of a black dress, studded in clear crystals.

"Would you like anything in exchange?" Annabelle asked, finding herself leaning forward a bit and peering up, as though she could finally spot a glimpse of the vampire's face. "I would owe you a great deal if you could uncover this mystery."

And possibly bring an end to all the death and pain and horror.

Charlotte chuckled, low and darkly amused. "That's a dangerous promise to make to my kind. What if I'd like a sip of your blood? All your good dreams for a year? An invitation to your house so I can feed on you and your family while you sleep?"

Annabelle frowned, head tipping to the side. She didn't feel worried, not when Charlette had never done anything to her or threatened such a thing.

"I don't think you would." She swallowed and stood up straighter, even if there was no one to see her posture. "Not if I asked you not to."

This time the chuckle sounded less dark. "You seem to have me figured out. Then I'll think about what I'll ask for," Charlette answered, then her voice turned mock-dry and she sighed theatrically, "Since eating you is so evidently off the table."

Annabelle had no idea why that made her laugh, the sound quickly muffled by the hand she lifted to her mouth, half horrified at herself for liking such a macabre joke. It seemed Dion wasn't the only one in the family to enjoy such humor. 

"I'd be pleased to find them all alive in the morning, thank you very much," she answered.

"Then you shall." Charlette sounded both amused and unexpectedly sincere. "I would hate to never hear your laugh again."

Annabelle felt surprised and touched at those words and found herself biting back a smile, lifting the book as though to hide her face from prying eyes. She hadn't known that night creatures, no, the night folk, could be so...sweet. Strange and frightening, yes, but also sweeter than she had thought. And kinder.

She didn't know what to say to that, lightly clearing her throat. "Well, if you keep doing what you're doing I guess I'll be laughing more in no time."

"Oh, consider it done," Charlette answered in a near purring tone that made heat gentle rise to her cheeks. "I don't think I could spend my nights any better than I currently do."

Flustered and flattered and having no idea what to do with any of those feelings, Annabelle shuffled away from the window.

"Speaking of night, it's, um, it's pretty late. I think I'll head to bed now," she said, pressing wind-cool fingertips against her heated face. "Good night."

She hurried to get ready for bed, accompanied by Charlette's quiet, throaty laugh.

"Good night," Charlette said as she slid beneath the sheets. "I'll keep watch until sunrise."

Curling up beneath the blankets, Annabelle kept watching the window. "Thank you." Ever since the vampire was there, Annabelle had felt safer than ever. Had slept better than ever.

When Charlette started to sing, the song was quiet and soft and Annabelle fell asleep, silently wishing the vampire could stay forever. Could be here every night, even once Dion was all healed up.

.*.*.*.

Annabelle visited Dion the next morning, using Mr. Bell's order to show up late to drop by the clinic first. 

"Is everyone well?" her brother asked in a heavy voice, while looking as though he was going to fall asleep again at any moment. "Mama and Papa don't seem to be very alright."

Their parents looked worn and tired and Annabelle worried they weren't sleeping well. Her other brothers were quiet and withdrawn, faces tense and marred with deep frowns. It made her wish she could tell them that she had a deal, a promise, of safety from a vampire. At least until Dion was fully healed.

They would not react well to that at all, however. She'd be dragged to the priests right away, to make sure she hadn't been thralled or otherwise influenced. Someone would then stake out in her room to try and kill Charlette. The very thought made her stomach clench and her heart ache.

"They're fine," she reassured Dion, offering a calming smile. 

She quickly distracted him by telling him about everything that had happened yesterday. She had visited him on her free day last, her parents and older brothers dropping by more often, since they were a bit more flexible with their time.

Halfway through her tale about the baron's visit, his eyes fell closed and his breathing deepened into slumber. Annabelle exhaled quietly and smoothed an edge of the blanket down. Sunlight shone through the windows, the bars casting thin shadows across his sickbed.

Her mind kept snagging at what Charlette had told her last night. The hope that had been ignited within her that this horror could end. That Dion could heal and go home and never again would he or anyone else be forced to pick up cold, hard iron in order to keep their loved ones alive.

She got up after another minute. Dion was fast asleep and he would remain like this for a while. He needed his rest. She left with a polite, grateful goodbye to Dr. Under, who waved her off with a vague noise, taking care of another injured hunter.

Mr. Bell was bustling around the shop when she arrived, in high spirits and praising her for how beautiful the book had turned out. The baron showed up an hour later, turning his ordered book this way and that, sniffing in acceptance, somehow simultaneously looking satisfied and not happy at all. He handed over more money than Annabelle had ever seen at once.

"It will do," the baron said in parting, sweeping outside as he added, "I think I shall be back."

Mr. Bell and she watched him leave with wide eyes, before they looked down at the money, at each other and then they were giggling like children, excited and almost speechless.

"Look at this!" Mr. Bell exclaimed, immediately starting to divide up the money. When he handed her what he said he owed her, she felt her breath catch. That was more than they had agreed upon first.

"You'll be able to hire a hunter now, while your brother heals," Mr. Bell said with a smile, waving off her sputtering protests. "We can always buy another printing press later, don't you worry. Besides, I'm sure we'll see that sour fellow again sooner or later."

She felt her eyes sting a little and couldn't help but pull Mr. Bell into a hug, who laughed and gave her a grandfatherly pat on the shoulder.

"Now, none of that, you hear me? There is no need for tears. Besides, we have more than enough work to take care of."

She nodded, sniffling once and pulled back, quickly pocketing the money before she took a deep breath and got to work with renewed determination. Mr. Bell chuckled and sat down at his desk, humming a soft, happy tune under his breath.

It was a good day and they kept working in high spirits, the other clients who dropped by to pick up their orders remarking on the good atmosphere. Mr. Bell left as he always did, a spring in his step and he told her not to stay too long, that she deserved to go home early as well.

Annabelle sang to herself as she finished up the last work of the day, the bell of the clock tower warning her about the setting sun. But for once she didn't feel scared, didn't startle into a flurry of hurried motions in order to get home in time.

She cleaned up and locked the door and went home with a smile on her face, nodding at people along the way and wishing neighbors a good night. The hunters on their street waved at her and she waved back.

Her family looked exhausted when she arrived, but they were glad to see her happy.

"We're safe," she tried to reassure them. "Everyone says they'll keep an eye out until Dion's back."

Guilt ate at her like sharp teeth when she kept the money she had made a secret. She wanted to save it, for when Dion was healthy again and Charlette wouldn't watch their house anymore. She wanted to buy her brother some more restful time if possible.

Charlette didn't show up that night, to her surprise. Instead, Annabelle heard a rumbly sort of growl and looked up, inhaling sharply in startled surprise.

"It's alright, you're safe," the large werewolf across from her on the other roof said quickly. "Charlette asked me to keep watch tonight." 

Then the werewolf straightened, ears perked and placed a hand on its chest. "Thank you," it said with utter sincerity. "For saving my son."

Oh, this was the boy's mother. Now that she took a closer look, her heart calming back down from it's frightened beat, she did recognize the werewolf.

"You're both well?" she couldn't help but ask, remembering the limp, whimpering and bleeding lump the werewolf had been in Charlette's arm.

Those ears flicked once and the werewolf grinned, making her look even more frightening and fearsome, but her yellow eyes held a spark of warmth. "We are. He's been talking about you, you know. Says he forgot to ask you if you liked his picture."

"I did," Annabelle slowly, cautiously approached the window. Just because Charlette hadn't hurt her didn't mean other night folk wouldn't take the chance when they got it. "He seems to be a sweet kid."

"He is." The werewolf preened in pride, then settled down, looking relaxed. "And don't worry," she said, a growl slipping into her voice. "I'll keep you lot safe." She snorted, amused. "Not that I'm necessarily needed here, considering Charlette thoroughly claimed this area. But she said you'd feel safer if I was there."

Annabelle felt her heart warm at those words, a smile tugging at her mouth. "That's sweet of her."

"She can be," the werewolf agreed, elbow on her thigh and chin resting in her palm. "But only if she likes someone. My son and I were the only ones she cared for for a long time, so I'm glad to see she's found someone else whose company she enjoys."

Annabelle's smile grew. "Well, the feeling is mutual. Tell her I'll miss her and that I hope she's safe. And thank you, for being here."

The werewolf grinned again and this time it looked a little less frightening. "She'll be very happy to hear that. And of course, after you saved my son and made Charlette's nights better, it's the least I could do. But don't let me keep you up if you're tired."

It was probably for the best to get some rest. "Good night. Oh, if any of the hunters notice you, just leave, they won't abandon the houses they protect."

The werewolf nodded. "I'll be careful not to be spotted, but they don't have to fear me either way. I never hurt people who don't try to kill my family first."

Fair enough, Annabelle would not act very kindly or sweetly if someone tried to harm those she loved in front of her eyes. She got ready for bed and decided to leave the window open, in case the werewolf needed to get her attention for something.

When she laid in bed, she found she struggled to fall asleep. It was simultaneously too quiet and not quiet enough. There was no pleasant singing, no vampire on her roof and somehow that absence was loud in the gentle, calm of the night.

She fell asleep after long minutes of staring up at the dark ceiling, trusting in a promise being kept and a fierce werewolf guarding the house.

.*.*.*.

It took three nights before Charlette came back. By then Annabelle had gotten to know the werewolf, whose name was Ophelia.

Since Charlette had apparently claimed this part of the city as hers, Ophelia pretty much had nothing to do. They had ended up talking quite a bit with each other as a result and Annabelle had put books on her windowsill for Ophelia to read.

Still, Annabelle had missed the vampire, had missed her company and singing and the steady, calm and unshakeable safety she brought with her presence alone. 

It had been a bit of a shock at first, to realize just how fond she had grown of Charlette. How there was a quiet sting of disappointment every night she saw Ophelia instead of her, even if she liked the werewolf.

"Welcome back," Annabelle said when she saw the large bat land quietly, a glad smile appearing on her face before she knew it.

"Finally," Ophelia said with good humor, leaning closer to Annabelle since she was sitting right across from her on the edge of the roof. The werewolf lifted a hand in front of her face to mock-whisper, "This one's pinning had gotten bad."

Pinning? Annabelle barely had a moment to properly process that, before Charlette tackled the werewolf straight off the roof and into the alley. There was growly laughter and hissing and startled shouts from a nearby hunter.

The two night folk quickly fell quiet after the hunter's warning yells and a few moments later, Ophelia hopped back onto the roof, while Charlette appeared suddenly in front of Annabelle, hanging upside-down in front of her window.

Annabelle smiled again, not even startling a little. Others probably considered this to be the height of foolishness, but she didn't fear Charlette. She didn't even find her nightmarish bat-form terrifying anymore. Oh, she knew Charlette was still frightening, that she could rip any human apart like wet paper, but Annabelle didn't think it was going to happen. Not to her, at any rate.

"I hope you're well?" she asked and Charlette swiftly ducked out of sight again, her voice answering a moment later.

"I am. I hope my friend took good care of you?"

"I'll take offense to that," Ophelia answered dryly. "But I'll forgive you this once. Now, please excuse me you two, you can make moon-eyes at each other without me having to bear witness."

With a jovial wave, the werewolf left, easily hopping across roofs and Annabelle heard a soft, aggrieved grumble from Charlette.

"Meddling friends," the vampire muttered. 

"I wouldn't know," Annabelle found herself saying, Charlette falling silent. "I haven't really had a friend in years."

Not since their old neighbors had moved away when she had been twelve. After that it had been hard to connect with others and nowadays she spent all day at work and was locked up at home afterwards. It didn't leave much time for socializing and the few times people had flirted with her at work hadn't really led to anything.

"We could be friends," Charlette offered. "And Ophelia likes you as well, she said as much every time she came back at dawn. I'm pretty sure she already considers you her friend."

"Are other humans and night folk friends as well?" Annabelle asked, genuinely curious. Charlette and Ophelia couldn't be the only nice night folk in the world, after all. "I've never heard of such a thing."

Charlette huffed, amused and wry all at once. "Of course not. From what I could gather, you humans don't take well to such connections. But there are a couple of friendships and relationships across the city."

There were? So she wasn't strange or alone in not hating or fearing the night folk? Or rather, Charlette and Ophelia. She still feared the others and what they could do.

"Speaking of which," Charlette continued before Annabelle could answer. "I think I found out what happened to the Night King and why there is such carnage now."

Annabelle stepped forward, fingertips brushing the windowsill. "Please tell me."

"It's not pretty," Charlette warned, then continued, "The night folk demand revenge for the murder of their king. Until the price is paid in blood, there will be no peace."

Annabelle knotted her fingers together in worry. "I understand that, but it isn't fair to punish all of us for the transgression of a few." Then she frowned heavily. "And it's been so long already since the attacks started, the ones who did it are most likely already dead."

A moment of heavy silence followed. "I forgot," Charlette murmured, an unhappy note to her voice. "You humans don't live all that long."

"We live plenty long enough," Annabelle answered, feeling a little affronted. "It's you lot who live a ridiculous amount of time."

Charlette huffed a gentle, amused noise. "I guess you're not wrong."

Annabelle felt her lips twitch into a small smile, before it fell again. "Is there something that can be done?" she asked softly. "To make the night folk stop?"

Charlette exhaled heavily, almost sighing. "Someone strong enough could." She sounded reluctant now. "Once someone seizes control and calms the frenzy, things could change."

"Why won't anyone do that?" Annabelle found herself staring up, as though she could will Charlette into view to look straight at her. "Hasn't this gone on long enough?"

"It doesn't feel that long to them," Charlette answered. "Many night folk have fallen into mindless bloodlust and they cannot regain their senses by themselves anymore. There are only a small handful left who could take control, but they like to eat and drink as much as they please. They like terrifying humans too much to stop."

Annabelle was silent for a long moment, arms wrapped around herself in a imitation of a hug. "So this is it?" she found herself whispering. "We just have to endure this until one of the strong night folk decide they've enjoyed themselves enough? Or until they've killed us all?"

A low snarl curled through the air. "I would not let them," Charlette answered, voice hard. "Nothing will happen to you."

"I believe you." She really did. "But...this is no way to live, Charlette. To cower and hide and...and just endure until I'm old and frail and at last my bones return to the earth."

She felt exhausted and bitterness wrapped around her like a too-heavy cloak. Annabelle closed her eyes, trying to fight back the burn of tears. Weeping wouldn't change anything, no matter how much she wanted to cry.

Shattered hope was a horrible feeling, she realized as she stared down at her hands, cold and ink stained. She had only realized how fiercely she had hoped for an end for all of this now that there was nothing to be done. All she could do now was endure and that...that was no way to live, was it?

Charlette was silent for so long that Annabelle started to get ready for bed, her heart a heavy weight in her chest and her mood dreary and dark. She just wanted to lie down and not get up for a long while. She blew out the candle, casting the room in darkness when the vampire spoke up.

"You're right." Charlette's voice was soft. "I want more for you. And better."

Annabelle swallowed past her dry mouth as Charlette added, "That is really no life worth living."

Annabelle made a quiet, slightly rough sound in agreement. She couldn't keep living like this for the rest of her days. Frightened, small, scurrying. Scraping together what coin she could, working herself to the bone during the day, only to be terrified of all that came at night. Worrying she'd bury her brother, then her parents, then her other older brothers, until she was all that was left.

Even if Charlette would guard them all her days, something could always happen. Besides, other people still died. She would see the blood in her way to work, would see the haunted faces of hunters who stared at the sun like it was pure salvation.

"I'd do anything for things to change," Annabelle found herself saying, voice hollow and tinged in bitter sadness.

"A dangerous promise." Charlette's voice was soft and utterly devoid of teasing. "Don't give that promise to someone else, they'll ask for things you won't wish to give."

"Like what? My blood? My beating heart?" She'd give both if it meant the night folk stopped their rampage. 

"No." Charlette sounded grim. She was quiet for a second, then asked, "Would you invite me in, Annabelle?"

"I think the bars are in the way." She wouldn't go and unlock the door, not when Gerard was still awake and weaving and Charlette could be seen entering the house by one of the hunters.

Charlette huffed, darkly amused. "Those are child's play. They don't keep me out, but I cannot enter a home I'm not invited to. No vampire can."

She hadn't known that, but it explained all the warnings to never answer any luring, sweet calls. And why one should never get thralled. Did she want Charlette in the house? In her room?

She did, she realized. She felt so cold and hopeless, she wished to at least finally see Charlette's face. Annabelle turned towards the window.

"Charlette, I invite you into my home, please enter," she said, soft but clear. A moment later that elegant hand came into view and slowly, steadily, pried the bars out of the brickwork.

Charlette was careful enough to avoid making a noticeable amount of noise, taking the time to wriggle the bars out bit by bit, until she could pull them away entirely. Annabelle found her heart beating a little faster. She had never invited anyone into her room since she had been twelve and her friend had left.

A moment later, a tall shape dropped onto the windowsill. For as much as Charlette looked like a human now, she did not move like one. There was a predator's grace as she smoothly stepped inside, feet utterly silent on the floor. Only her long dress made a soft sound as the fabric fell down to her ankles.

Charlette stood with a confidence Annabelle had rarely seen, something unshakeable and true. The vampire knew she was powerful and dangerous and saw no need in proving either by needlessly puffing herself up. For everyone else would know she was dangerous by simply looking at her.

"You don't look at me anymore as though I'm frightening," Charlette said, voice soft and clear and she took slow steps closer, bridging the distance between them. 

There was just enough light cast by the moon outside for her to see her face. She was beautiful, her red hair long and her eyes the color of blood.

Annabelle looked up at the vampire, who stopped in front of her. "I don't fear you."

"I'm glad." Charlette's voice softened further, gentling into a near whisper. "I like seeing you happy."

Annabelle found herself smiling a little, almost shyly. "I think I owe you a favor," she said softly. "For finding out what you could about the Night King."

Charlette was quiet for a moment and Annabelle saw the the humorless smile appear on her face. "There is one thing I would ask, but not now. I think I need to earn a bit more of a favor for that."

Surprised, Annabelle tipped her head a little, trying to see her face better in the dark. "What do you mean?"

Charlette didn't answer and instead reached out, hand hovering near Annabelle's face without touching her. "May I?"

Annabelle felt her heart beat a little faster now, realizing it did so in the best of ways. "Yes." Her voice was quiet but clear in the silence of her room and the quiet of the calm night outside.

Gently, almost reverently, Charlette's cool hand settled on her cheek. "I don't think you know how much you captivated me," the vampire said softly, red eyes warm where her skin was not. "Your bravery, your laugh, your sweetness. How fearless you are and how much I enjoy speaking with you."

A cool thumb brushed along her cheekbone ever so gently. "I want to ask for something very brazen," Charlette continued in a near whisper. "Once I earn more of your good graces."

"You could ask now," Annabelle answered just as quietly, eyes caught by that blood-red gaze and she tipped her head a little, turning her cheek into that sweet touch. "Because I don't think you realize how much I enjoy your company, how fond I've grown of you."

This time, when Charlette smiled, it revealed a hint of fangs that would have looked frightening to Annabelle in the past. Now she was merely curious, knowing she had nothing to fear.

"What if I asked for a kiss?" Charlette said. "One you want to give me because you like me, not because you feel indebted."

"Then I'd say you should kiss me," Annabelle whispered back, her heart beating faster in excited anticipation. "If you like me as much as I like you."

"Oh, of that there is no doubt," Charlette breathed the words more than she said them, leaning in and Annabelle rose up on her toes. Long, soft hair brushed her cheek before lips ghosted across hers for just a moment. She smelled like fresh air and something soft and sweet, like flowers.

Before Charlette could pull back, Annabelle rose to her very tiptoes, pressing their lips together gently. Her hands came up, one lightly touching Charlette's arm and the other reaching up to cup her face, fingertips lightly tangling into silk-soft hair.

"Will you let me court you?" Annabelle asked in a soft whisper, opening her eyes. Charlette looked almost unbearably soft and it squeezed her heart in the best of ways.

Charlette laughed, quiet and brief and achingly fond. "I think I'm meant to ask you that. If you allow me to court you as well, I will gladly say yes."

Annabelle found herself grinning, the previous heaviness of her mood gentled and lightened, even if it wasn't gone entirely. 

Charlette brushed a feather light kiss against the corner of her mouth, as though tasting her smile, before pressing another one to her forehead. She then gently rested their foreheads together, free hand rising to take Annabelle's, tangling their fingers together.

"I think I know what to gift you," Charlette said. "If you're willing to accept something intangible."

Now that made her curious. "Of course." She gave Charlette's fingers a little squeeze. "I think I have an idea for a gift as well."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, until Annabelle had to pull back, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Charlette smiled softly, brushing fingertips over her hair.

"Rest, my love," she said. "I will stay until dawn."

"Can you sing for me?" Annabelle asked. "I find I sleep better if you do."

Charlette's eyes seemed brighter, now a liquid red. "Of course."

And sing she did and when Annabelle woke in the morning, she found a red rose lying on her desk, on top of a letter.

A letter that held the promise to change everything.

.*.*.

Part Three.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

YOU'RE GREAT

what about Error but with vitiligo?

-anon

right away boss >;Dc <333

[marlynnofmany]

Lookie what I got! The rarest of collector's editions, with only one in existence! (There's an @ symbol in place of a © on the title page.)

(There's only one because I fixed it after I ordered my proof copy.)

Someday this will be very valuable, for sure!

[supersonic1994]

as the local fight club blogger - how did u interpret the ending of the book? I love love love the book and have lots of different interpretations for it, but I always struggled with the ending; and I barely see anybody talking abt it in general

the ending surprised me! I had watched the movie before I managed to finish the book, and because as you said nobody talks about the book ending I was really shocked. I felt that the ending the narrator was given was particularly haunting. he is no longer tyler durden but no matter where he goes or what he does to escape from him—the narrator believes that they had died together and now they’re in heaven (or perhaps this is what he tells himself for escapism) but there is no separation. “God asks me what I remember. I remember everything.” Is the narrators response in the last moments of his and tylers life together. hes unable to let go of his past because it’s constantly pushing at the forefront of his mind. he knows he can’t go back because he doesn’t exist in the world outside of heaven, “because every once in a while, somebody brings me my lunch tray and my meds and he has a black eye or his forehead is swollen with stitches, and he says: “we miss you Mr. Durden.” I think it’s ironic that the narrator felt so trapped in his single serving life that he made up tyler durden, but the result of that is what blinds him, and truly traps him, in the end. this is the problem with nihilism that had been idealized by tyler through the novel.

If I were to read more into it I would say that as an ending the psych wards temporality more closely resembles purgatory wherein the narrators mind he can only leave once he’s sinless—once he stops being recognized for who he was and what tyler did. no one stays in purgatory forever. even if the narrator calls the workers angels and the psychologist god, there’s a sense that one day the narrator will be able to return to society. purgatory is meant to be a place for having a spiritual cleansing before people who are supposed to go to heaven actually go to heaven. the narrators spiritual cleansing would be shedding the skin and associations of tyler. I think this reading leaves the ending more open, since there’s possibility of change and movement.

If you’re reading the text through the lens of a gay man in the 1990’s struggling through self acceptance, sexuality, and the AIDS crisis—he has “killed” his partner, taken on his last name, and now he is hospitalized with sores and bruises on his face that others [other hospital staff that belonged to project mayhem] can recognize. this to me is a more bleak ending—it would be an ending where the narrator can never leave the hospital, and the world continues on without him, and is ultimately destroyed (as is project mayhems goal).

[autisticlee]

is it strange to genuinely not know what people think of you or how they feel about you? most people seem to just know if someone dislikes them so they can move on, or they just know when someone enjoys their company and is their friends. I have no way of knowing without people explicitly telling me, and people are horrible at doing that.

I don't know what my first impression gives. I don't know what vibes I have or what type of energy I have. I can't tell if someone hates me, doesn't care about me, or genuinely likes me. I can't tell what people's opinions on me are, if they think i'm nice, funny, rude, boring. I don't know if i'm bothering or annoying someone. I don't know if i'm upsetting someone or making them uncomfortable. I don't know if they are comfortable around me. I don't know if they enjoy my presence. I don't know if they are being fake nice and fake friends. I can't tell when someone loses interest in me. I cant tell if someone is trying to be a friend or is just being polite. I don't know if i'm easy to get along with, or difficult to be around. I don't know if my presence fills someome with joy or annoyance. to make it worse, each person thinks and feels different things. so i'll never figure out all of them.

if I try to think about what my presence and existence means to other people, i'm met with a massive blank hole. there's nothing there. I could never answer the questions "my friends/family would descove me as ___" because I genuinely don't know. I can only say what I think of me. unless someone explicitly told me with clear words, i'll never know. i'll usually know how I feel about another person at some point, and I try to tell them if I have the chance. but it's never reciprocated. they never tell me. so my presence in other people's lives is always a blank enigma I can't figure out.

any time i've tried talking about this, I just get a response like "stop worrying and caring about what other people think about you/just be yourself that's all that matters"

that's not the advice you think it is. that's more of what you'd say to someone who beats themselves up because they are worried about people disliking them in general and it fills them with anxiety to be disliked. they usually have low self esteem and think their worth lies in other people liking them. that's not the case here. hate me if you want, I don't care. i'd just rather know upfront before investing my time and energy in you.

this type of "caring what others think" is more about human connection, rather than acceptance....I wonder...is one reason I struggle to connect with people because I can't feel the presence of their feelings towards me? all I know is they are aware of my existing. thats it. try being in a group chat and not knowing if any of them actually like you or secretly hate you, not knowing if they are your friends or just being nice, and not knowing anything about how they feel about you, but you enjoy them very much. I try to share inner feelings with them, but theirs don't reach me. so I wonder, do mine even reach them? somewhere between us, the connection fails to reach. perhaps this is one of the problems i'm having with connecting to others.

if you don't know what people think or feel towards you, how can you connect with them? either you make assumptions, like "I think they hate me" and you could be wrong and push away someone that thinks you're friends, or think "i'm sure they enjoyed talking with me" and they later tell you they were just being nice but never wanted to talk to you becuass you're annoying. but assumptions are dangerous because those reasons, so the only other choice is to assign a blank slate to them and wait for them give you words to write on it. but if they don't use their words, they stay blank. you will never know if you are making a connection or it's staying superficial.

it's selfish to only go off your own feelings towards someone. you could really like someone, want to be friends, want to hang out and chat, but if they don't feel the same way, you just cause them problems and inconvenience. you bother them and ruin their time. i've noticed people often won't be direct about that and get even more upset because I missed it. I thought we shared a vibe or similar energy. but I might have mixed up my feelings with their vibes. if I like someone and enjoy them, not knowing how they feel about me can lead to me wasting my time and energy and also annoying that person unknowingly. it's bad for everyone.

if you can't assume the worse or even the best, you have to assume they feel neutral towards you until told otherwise. the problem is, most people go off of subtle hints, but if you can't see those, you get left out. while neither good nor bad, neutral feelings are still that of strangers. if you can't read people's thoughts and feelings on you, but it's rude to ask or people don't tell you the truth, you end up with many neutral people in your life. many strangers.

is this normal? do other people have an idea of what someone feels about them? or do you all "not care" what they think and go off of how you feel about them instead? is everyone making guesses, or do most people actually know without asking? how do you bond and feel connected if you aren't sure if someone enjoys your presence or if they actually loath it? I truly don't know....all I know is, not knowing makes me feel very disconnected from everyone.

I haven't gotten anyone else to talk about this or seen anyone else talk about it. so there's a good chance it's just a me thing. this type of topic usually gets reduced to "stop caring what people think" and goes nowhere beyond that. but!!! I think it's actually important to be able to know what people think or feel about you!!! at least to an extent. not obsessively caring to the point it becomes a mental disorder like social anxiety. but just enough to at least know if you are actually making a connection with them. just enough to know if you are able to reach them....

[fiepige]

Hobie Brown variant OC:

I finally decided to make Symbiote!Hobie (nicknamed SH by Hobie, which over time turned into Sage) his own thing, cause I've made so many changes to him that I've decided he's just gonna be another version of Hobie from another dimension.

I basically came up with him when thinking about what it would take for Hobie to truly bond with a symbiote and this is what I came up with.

While he's technically Hobie too I'm gonna refer to him as Sage in this post to avoid confusion <3

Gonna start with his appearance and then move on to his origins and how he got involved with the Spider-Society:

Disclaimer: I cannot draw so I haven't even attempted at drawing his face cause I know I'd never be able to draw him in a way I'd like- So I did the next best thing:

(He has a normal face I just tried to find a way for me to draw him without drawing his face lol)

Pictured above is Sage and his symbiote K.A.T (and their symbiote form- yeah it's the same as Venom!Hobie cause I like the design lol)

He looks like Hobie but younger- he's around 11 when he's bitten by the spider and fused with K.A.T - he's around 12 when he gets introduced to the Spider-Society

He's got short hair as it was completely shaved off when he got caught by Oscorp - more about this under his origins - he wants to let it grow out after meeting Hobie and being inspired by his approach to his looks (he really looks up to Hobie but don't tell anyone I said that!)

His left iris is white as a result of the symbiote DNA being fused to him. He can make it match his right eye if he concentrates but only really bothers to do so if he feels it draws too much attention

After meeting Hobie he helps Sage get a few piercings of his own

He usually wears a hoodie and/or a mask to hide his face - he's super paranoid and does his best to hide himself from others

Never goes anywhere without his noice cancelling earmuffs - he's got enhanced senses due to his spider powers but they can be a bit of a nuisance since he's also sensitive to loud noises due to his symbiote...

He also usually wears sunglasses to shield himself from sensory overload as he was subjected to it a lot as part of the experiments he was put through at Oscorp - and thus getting his senses overstimulated can result in panic attacks, so he does what he can to avoid it + it hides his eyes as well

K.A.T (Killing Authority-opposing Targets) is Sage's symbiote

It usually stays hidden unless they're alone or around people they trust/already knows about its presence.

If it does show itself it'll usually stay on Sage's shoulder or sit in his lap, it's still tethered to him so it can't go that far without him - not that it really wants to anyways

The reason K.A.T takes this form is that Sage is a cat person and it used it as a method to make him like it more when they first "met" + petting it helped Sage calm down and still does

K.A.T is still made of the same goo as regular symbiotes so it does not feel like petting a cat at all- Sage doesn't mind but most other people get suprised when they first touch it

If it likes someone it'll rub itself against their legs and mimic purring noises - if it dislikes someone it'll hiss and arch its back at them

K.A.T is a more animalistic symbiote and mainly communicates with Sage by letting him feel its emotions instead of speaking to him

To avoid making the post even longer than it's already gonna be I'll link to this post where I go into more detail about the design of thier Symbiote form instead of describing it here too ^^'.

This was originally supposed to be a short summary but I've realised I'm incapable of making short posts when it comes to stuff like this:

Origin:

Sage is a younger version of Hobie Brown. (11 years old when bitten by the spider and fused with his symbiote)

Sage and K.A.T "met" at one of Oscorp's labs

He was living as a homeless kid (having escaped an abusive household a few months prior)

He was bitten by a radioactive spider while looking for a place to spend the night.

He got very sick from the bite and was easily captured by Oscorp goons looking for new test subjects in the streets

Despite his young age Sage is a more ruthless Hobie variant, in part due to his upbringing and due to his symbiote (and the trauma they both go through at the hands of Oscorp)

K.A.T was a new kind of experimental symbiote that was set to be terminated due to it killing all its previous hosts - Sage was their last attempt at fusing it with someone

They decide to fuse it with Sage as he was deemed indisposable due to him seeming more dead than alive - suffering from the venom of spider bite at the time - and thus it wouldn't be a problem if the symbiote killed him too

Since the spider bite was still changing his DNA as he got fused with K.A.T some of its DNA got fused with him as well as a "side effect" during the process

Due to this it's incredibly hard (if not impossible) to seperate the symbiote from Sage without severely hurting them both

His body develops organic web shooters when it fuses with K.A.T - the webs are black and can be shot from either of his 4 arms when in his symbiote form (they can also be shot regularly while in his human form)

Sage develops enhanced senses and a taste for human flesh after being fused with K.A.T - he also has enhanced senses from the spider bite - making it easy to overstimulate his senses and overwhelm him before he learns to get it more under control

Since Sage's gotten powers from both the spider bite and the symbiote they quickly become the subjects for many inhumane and painful experiments as the scientists futilely try to figure out how to replicate the symbiote (as they're unaware of the spider bite, thinking the symbiote alone is behind Sage's new powers)

The main scientist behind the experiments is this dimension's version of Peter Parker!

Sage eventually manages to escape the lab during one of their many tests- killing as many guards and scientists on his way out as possible - and eating some of them as well

As a result of their treatment at the lab + his past with his abusive foster family, both Sage and K.A.T have developed a deep distrust to other people - at this point they both consider the other their only friend

Sage goes back to living as a homeless kid, avoiding people as best as he can, but he's also got an insatiable taste for human flesh as well!

He will usually target anyone associated with Oscorp when he's hungry (if none are available cops are the next best thing- his dimension is just as corrupt as -138 Hobie's dimension)

He doesn't feel bad about killing but will still try not to harm civilians (emphasis on try- sometimes the hunger gets the best of him)

Due to his senses being extra sensitive + his paranoia from his experiences at the lab and his foster homes, he tries to avoid crowded and noisy places - This all leads to him being more active at night while he usually tries to lay low and hide during the day.

He lived like this for months until a certain event changed that:

First encounter with the Spider-Society

Sage's dimension is blacklisted meaning people from the Spider-Society aren't allowed to go there (cause a spider-person who's embracing their symbiote instead of resisting it is deemed unsafe by Miguel and thus best to be avoided)

Sage does still get introduced to the spider-society albeit through a rather unconventional way:

- One day a portal opens up and pulls Sage through it, sending him to another dimension as an anomaly

Having no idea about what's going on, and being scared and confused about the whole situation, he does his best to lay low and avoid other people.

Because of this he spends a lot of time in the other dimension before the society discovers signs of an anormaly - glitched objects like seen when Kingpen uses the collider in itsv, or the museum that the Vulture appears in in atsv

Sage eventually has his first run in with other spider people when his hunger gets the best of him and he becomes more careless as he turns into his symbiote form to go look for prey

Here he encounters Gwen and Peter B as they're looking for the anomaly causing things to glitch out in the dimension

Not knowing he's a spider person and an actual child, Peter and Gwen attack him as they always do with anomalies - it also doesn't help that Sage doesn't exactly look friendly when in his symbiote form.

He fights back cause these masked people attacked him for no reason so they must be bad guys and of course he's gonna defend himself - it also doesn't help that he's starving and thus not thinking clearly at this point.

Unfortunately for him, these guys have high frequency equipment to deal with symbiotes and thus they manage to subdue him, but not before he manages to fight back, revealing his organic webbing which tips Gwen and Peter off to him having spider powers as well

He's subdued and forced into an electric cage (which brings back a lot of unpleasant memories from his time at Oscorp) and sent to the Spider-Society afterwards

When he arrives at the Society he quickly gets overstimulated and has a panic attack and lashes out in a desperate attempt at escaping his electric cage - also seeing the face of the scientist who tortured him for months everywhere certainly didn't help

Gwen then uses a high-frequency device made to combat symbiotes to force him to revert back to his human form

She immediately recognises him as a young version of -138 Hobie

Her and Peter both panic cause 1. They realise they basically beat up a kid and locked him up. 2. That kid has a symbiote! 3. That kid is a younger version of another spider-person they both know (and who they both know has a very long and strained history with symbiotes!)

Miguel gets involved and a discussion begins about whether they should try and seperate Hobie (Sage) and his symbiote

- The other spiders mean well by this but Sage and K.A.T both panic at the thought of being separated - at this point they really view the other as their only friend as it's been them against the world ever since they fused

Sage, still panicking, tries to protest but they won't listen as they view him as a kid who doesn't know what's best for him

Sage is taken to the room with all the villains while they discuss what to do with him

Here Margo sees Sage and K.A.T comforting each other, K.A.T manifesting physically in Sage's lap, being hugged tightly by Sage as he promises it he'll never let anyone separate them

Seeing this, Margo takes pity on them and 'accidentally' sends them home before the other spiders get a chance to try and remove K.A.T from Sage.

Relationships with other spider-people

Some time later Sage has an encounter with Hobie who found out about the whole mess - despite Miguel ordering Gwen and Peter not to tell him

While Hobie isn't exactly a fan of symbiotes he first and foremost sees Sage as a traumatised homeless kid in need of safety and stability

Hobie offers Sage to stay at his boat whenever he wants (as long as he promises not to eat anyone while he's there), he also gives him one of his bootleg watches so he can come and go as he pleases (and explains that he can also use it to get home to his own dimension if he's ever unwillingly sent to another dimension again)

Sage declines at first but over time he slowly opens up to Hobie and begins to trust him

(He also secretly looks up to Hobie once he trusts him, cause who doesn't? He's an older version of himself who's got a place to call his home, one that he opens up to strangers in need such as himself, he uses his powers for good and not just to survive. He's not afraid to be who he is and draw attention to himself - something Sage has been too afraid to do ever since his time at Oscorp. He's got friends and people he trusts. - all things that Sage wants too but doesn't believe he'll ever have) Also he'll never admit that he looks up to Hobie but he can tell anyways

Hobie's the one that gives Sage his nickname, it started as SH but over time it turned into Sage instead, though he doen't mind being called Hobie as well, it's just easier to go by Sage when both he and Hobie are present.

He still doesn't trust people, especially not the Spider-Society after their first meeting, which made it very awkward when Gwen showed up to visit Hobie while Sage was there - luckily Hobie managed to interfere before they beat each other up too much...

(He trusts Margo a bit as well since she 'saved' him from the Spider-Society - also it's nice to be around someone who doesn't smell like food since she's an avatar and not made of flesh and blood)

He currently lives at Hobie's boat, switching between it and his own dimension as he pleases

Hobie did his best to hide it but he was rather freaked out by K.A.T's presence in the beginning, he did his best to supress it cause he genuinely wants to help Sage

Hobie mentors him in how to use his Spider Powers and tries to give him a moral compass to at least prevent him from eating civilians when he gets too hungry - He usually targets cops or people working for Oscorp but the hungrier he gets the less picky he is

Another reason Hobie took him in is because he knows ostracising someone won't make them a better person and while Hobie doesn't believe in deciding what's best for others he still knows life will be a bit easier for Sage if he doesn't just kill whoever he wants whenever he wants - impulse control is important when you have a cannibalistic symbiote in your body.

- Hobie still dislikes symbiotes but he respects Sage's choice to keep his and does his best to help him control some of the more violent urges that come with a symbiote.

Hobie introduces Sage to his punk ideologies and slowly introduces him to the punk community

Hobie also introduces him to some of his friends but it's a slow process due to Sage having a hard time trusting people - especially spider-people after his Spider-Society encounter

Some of the spider-people also have a hard time opening up to him because of his symbiote

But Hobie's good at making a safe space for Sage to feel like he can slowly start to open up to others

For the first time in years Sage feels like he has someone (besides K.A.T) he can trust and over time he starts to view Hobie as his older brother

And that's that folks! (at least for now)

To the one person who actually bothered to read all of this - know that I'm infinitely grateful that you took your time to read about my boy <3

- I initially tried to keep this short but I gave up cause Sage has been living rent free in my head for weeks and it feels so nice to finally flesh him out and write about him!

You know I couldn't resist making my first oc angsty - but at least he ends up doing better than where he started.

Hopefully you guys like him too! If you have any questions please let me know, I could talk about him forever <3

[mushroomclangen]

Moon 0 - Newleaf - Part 2

A week later…

The final cat to die as a result of the wolf attack was buried that morning, unable to recover from their devastating injuries. With most cats fit enough to patrol they began to slowly revert back to normal routines. Flintfoot started taking Rootpaw out for training sessions, although the now orphaned apprentice is much less enthusiastic about it than her mentor, and Frondswipe begins the arduous task of patching up the holes the wolves left in the camp wall. Chivespeckle and Hollowbriar decided to try and remark some of the borders, though Frondswipe doubted that any of the other Clans would dare to bother them in these desperate times. WarmClan and JaggedClan had been incredibly helpful and sympathetic towards them, the former even sending warriors to help clean up the aftermath, and it was highly likely that gossip had made it’s way to NewtClan through the borders. Still, it’s good to keep the opportunistic outsiders at bay.

Lighteye watched the camp, cleaning dirt from between his claws. He hated it when the camp was quiet for the majority of the time it was a hub of activity. Kits would be bouncing around, playing intense games of moss-ball or Warriors and Rogues. Apprentices would be showing each other their latest battle moves and taunting whichever poor soul was left to tend to the elders. Warriors would share tongues in the shade of the trees while one of the medicine cats would pass by occasionally to check on a certain cat’s stomach ache. Elders would reminisce about the old days with each other and relay stories onto whoever would lend an ear; either that or they would complain about how noisy the youngsters were. Lighteye adored it. He had always revelled in the companionship he felt between him and his Clanmates; he’d never felt more alone as he sat there in front of the medicine cat den.

Continued under cut…

For now though, he would have to accept that this was how it was going to be. He needed to just focus on the Clanmates he had now, including poor Antlerpaw. His apprentice was injured during the battle and would have certainly been killed if it wasn’t for the sacrifice her parents made to save her. She had been complaining non-stop about how long her wound was taking to heal much to Eggrumble’s chagrin. Lighteye struggled to count how many times the medicine cat had reminded Antlerpaw how lucky she was to not actually lose her leg.

Lighteye kept Antlerpaw company whenever Eggrumble went out searching for herbs. She could have a vicious temper at times, thankfully Lighteye didn’t mind listening to other cats vent their feelings. He groomed her diligently as she growled about her warrior assessments being delayed, about not being able to go to the next gathering, and most notably: not being able to protect her remaining Clanmates. Perhaps her frustration was justified…

Bluffstar interrupted their conversation. Chivespeckle and Hollowbriar brought back some prey from their border patrol but it wasn’t enough to feed everyone, so she invited Lighteye out to hunt with her. Lighteye hadn’t had the chance to properly speak with Bluffstar since her leader ceremony, so as long as Antlerpaw was kept under watch by another cat he was happy to go. That cat turned out to be Chivespeckle, and Lighteye knew Eggrumble would be tearing her fur out if she was aware of the change.

Their hunting session didn’t start off well. Lighteye had been good friends with Bluffstar for many, many moons; ever since Bluffstar and his brother, Jaywhisper, became mates. Over time, he had learned to pick up on the signs that she was feeling down. From the moment she returned from the Star Cavern he could see her tail-tip trembling while she spoke of hope and confidence to her Clanmates. More obviously, she had scarcely left her den other than to eat or speak with Frondswipe or Eggrumble. Her distraction became evident when she misjudged her pounce on a bird and collided with a fallen log. Lighteye decided that this was the time to speak to her though Bluffstar did all she could to hide her emotions. Unfortunately for her, Lighteye could see right through her facade, pushing her to be honest with herself until Bluffstar finally broke.

She confessed that part of the reason for her being so withdrawn was because of Jaywhisper. He was there at her leader ceremony and gave her one of her nine lives, though he also told her that he didn’t mind if she moved on. That seemed to have plagued Bluffstar’s mind for the past few days, especially since she had just made the commitment to finally start a family with him…

Lighteye’s throat felt tight, a sickness brewing in his stomach.

Bluffstar is quick to apologise, blaming herself for not agreeing to do so sooner. Jaywhisper had bugged Bluffstar about having kits for moons, so much so that Lighteye had to get involved and calm his brother down. Lighteye was just as excited to become an uncle, kits are adorable after all, but he at least knew how much of a commitment they were, not to mention the health risks for the queen. How could it ever be her fault? Lighteye would rather Bluffstar feel ready to be a mother than force herself through it. He dreaded to think of the guilt Jaywhisper would suffer if anything were to go wrong. Bluffstar, tears welling in her eyes, then confesses that they were going to start trying as soon as NewLeaf came. If they were successful, Lighteye would have been the first cat to know. Lighteye just wordlessly pulled Bluffstar closer, letting her cry into his chest fur

The NewLeaf forest around them was full of life. The bird song celebrated the return of the warm sun and buds had begun to sprout from tree branches. It was the sign of new beginnings. Lighteye looked down at Bluffstar and confidently assured her that her wounds would heal with time. Whether she took a new mate or not it didn’t matter to him; as long as she was happy. That’s all he could ever want.

Bluffstar looked up at Lighteye with glassy-green eyes. She smiled, thanking Lighteye. She didn’t know how she could cope without him by her side. A moment passed before Bluffstar finally pulled away, shaking her fur out. They came out here to hunt and she refused to return to camp until they had some fresh-kill to their name. With a flick of her tail, shrugging off her sorrow, she led the way deeper into the forest.

Lighteye followed her, glad to see a bit of a bounce finally back in Bluffstar’s step. However, he can’t shake the feeling that perhaps there’s more on her mind than she’s letting on. He silently vows to continue to protect and support her for as long as they both live.

[fruitless-vain]

six programs, seven breakdowns, and about four hours of render troubleshooting later and I finally have a functional god damned animation program ffs