#eldritch gays

[archivus]

Magnus Archives Fanartists

Dear Tumblrians of the eldritch variety, my community The Magnus Extention has been approved, so whether you like writing fanmade episodes for The Magnus Archives or just read them feel free to join

Edit: I thought these would work like subreddits and anyone could join, but oh well, instead interact with this post and I'll send an invite

[newweaponx22]

Did a photoshop for the character designs while my husband (@blitzendoggo) was working in the fic “spot in my heart” if you haven’t read it, you should, it’s really fucking good.

[blitzendoggo]

Spot in My Heart

Callisto finds a kitten on his way home, Prophis couldn’t be happier.

Prophis/Callisto (2097 words)

~~

Every year, Callisto swears he’s going to quit working at Bowenburg Academy, and every year, Prophis convinces him to stay, but this really might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He stayed late grading papers and helping students with work as they came in and out of his office -having a strange admiration of the teacher that Callisto cannot for the life of him understand, but Prophis always laughs and shakes his head whenever the dark-haired man mentions it- and when he finally decided he should pack up and head home it was nearly 8:30 at night. And to top it all off, it was raining hard enough for the raindrops to sting as they struck Callisto’s skin.

He is power walking home as fast as his 6’5” legs will allow him which makes him look like a grey-and-black blur zipping through the town. Most of the world is simply white noise to him, the only noise being the pounding rain as everything else that is sensible is hiding somewhere dry.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

As he rounds a corner, sharper and faster than is safe given the very slick concrete, he stumbles forward as his heel steps on something far too soft, and said soft thing begins yowling and crying loudly. Callisto spins around and sees a tiny black and white kitten, drenched to the bone, and, even to Callisto’s untrained eye, severely malnourished.

The man pauses before the guilt -and some of his animal-loving husband’s consciousness- overwhelms him, and he steps under a nearby awning and clicks for the kitten as he crouches down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to step on you,” he apologizes quietly, feeling a little ridiculous talking to the tiny creature as he digs into his bag and pulls out his half-eaten salami sandwich, offeringsome of it on his palm to the little thing. The kitten quickly eats it out of his hand before looking up at the tall man expectantly. Callisto gives him more with a small smile.

He offers everything he can to the kitten before standing up. He is beginning to shake with the cold and wants to get back to his husband. He nods to the kitten and turns to walk away before noticing that the kitten is still following him.

“Go on, go home,” He tells it sharply, trying to sound mean and drive it off, but instead he is given an honestly pitiful meow. “Oh, you’re quite cold, aren’t you…” he says quietly. He intends on taking another step away, but his legs don’t seem to be listening to his brain as they instead bring him closer to the sopping wet cat, and his arms seem to be listening even less as they reach to grab the kitten.

He feels around its neck for the collar, deciding that he can deliver the kitten back to his home before coming to the upsetting conclusion that there was no collar.

He straightens up and looks at it for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Alright, then, I suppose you’re coming with me.”

He gently picks up the black-and-white mess of fur. The kitten begins purring as hard as it’s shivering and Callisto can’t bring himself to put the kitten down. He gently wrings the excess water out of its fur and looks at him pensively before tucking him down the front of his grey sweater.

Though he was certainly walking fast before, he nearly doubles his speed as he barrels home, feeling the need to deliver this kitten to safety. He silently gives his thanks that their house is not that far from the campus, and he bursts through the door to their little home in only five minutes.

“Callisto!” Prophis yelps, jumping straight up from his seat. “What on Earth are you-?”

“Cat,” Callisto says bluntly, fishing the mewling thing from his sweater and holding it straight out.

The elf stares at him and the kitten for a long moment before quickly approaching and swiping it from his husband’s hands.

“Oh, Callisto, where did you find this poor little dear?” he asks, immediately fretting over the kitten.

“On my way home,” Callisto explains as he peels off his drenched jacket and drops his bag by the door. “I accidentally stepped on its tail.”

“You what?!” Prophis exclaims, turning sharply to look at his husband as if he had said that he had punted the cat.

“On accident,” Callisto rectifies quickly. “And I apologized, and fed it half my lunch.”

The elf inspects the kitten twice over and gives a satisfied nod. “Well, other than being a hungry little fellow, he seems unscathed.” He pauses and turns his gaze to his husband, and the dark-haired man knows that look.

“No, Prophis,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster in the face of his husband. “We cannot keep it.”

“Why not?” the elf pouts. “He’s perfectly fine and well-mannered!”

“Prophis,” Callisto all but pleads.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be as heartless as to cast the little one out into the rain!” Prophis doubles down, putting his bleeding heart on full display as he cradles the kitten closer to his chest. “He wouldn’t survive the night and winter is just around the corner and-”

“Alright,” the human says tiredly.

“Alright?” Prophis echoes, the hope edging into his voice.

“Yes, alright, we can keep it.” Before his husband can properly cheer he adds, “Just until we can find someone who can take care of it instead.”

Prophis has a look on his face for a moment, one that Callisto recognizes as his “I’m plotting something face” before he nods with a smile. “Well, if he’s going to stay he needs a name.”

“A name?” Callisto echoes.

“Yes, something to call him instead of just ‘the kitten,’” Prophis reasons.

The human considers it for a moment before he concedes with a nod. “I suppose that much can be true.”

The blonde holds up the black-and-white mess of still-soggy fur before saying, “Mr. Business.”

Callisto smiles at his husband’s choice of naming. “We can’t call it that, the Monopoly Man would steal it.”

Prophis sighs. “Fair point.” He walks into the living area and gently sets the kitten down on the table, looking at him intently as if the cat will tell them his name.

Callisto follows his husband after a moment. He looks at the kitten before thinking about his lesson on the Greek mythos this evening. “What about Clio, after the muse of history and heroic poetry, from the old tales?”

Prophis snickers. “That’s truly a you thing to say, but look at him.” He gestures at the cat. “That’s not a hero of old.” As if cued by his words, the cat tries to walk off the table.

The history professor watches with bemusement as his husband scrambles to save the kitten before considering his comment. “You may have a point.” He pauses, weighing his options before smiling as he says, “Dionysus then, the old god of intoxication, that seems to fit the cat’s,” he trails off, looking the tiny thing up and down before landing on, “Everything.”

“I still feel a god’s name is too clever for him,” Prophis points out.

Callisto nods, watching as the kitten tries to eat a strand of his husband’s long white hair. “I suppose you’re right,” he says slowly.

“What about,” he trails off before grinning. “Spot? After the three-headed dog.”

Callisto pauses for a long moment, looking at his husband before slowly saying, “Did you just-? Do you mean-?” But the hopeful look in Prophis’ eye causes him to stop. “Alright, love, Spot it is.”

“Yay! Spot!” He stands up with Spot and spins around. The cat, to his credit, is completely unbothered, just lazily looking around as the 6-foot elf twirls around with him.

Callisto chuckles. “I don’t know what I expected from you,” he says before shaking his head. “Scratch that, this is exactly what I expected from you”

Prophis doesn’t even respond as he stands there with the kitten, smiling and laughing. He is on cloud nine with this little thing in his arms because he loves animals, but that’s not the only reason. While Prophis may love animals, Callisto does not, and one of the compromises they made when getting married and moving in together is that they wouldn’t have any pets in the house.

His husband snickers before deciding to be dramatic. He sniffles and pulls his, still-wet, cardigan closer around him. “I was out in the cold rain too, you know. The kitten’s not the only one who needs cuddles.” He huffs and turns to walk towards the stairs. “I suppose I’ll just go curl up in bed under the blankets.”

Callisto barely finishes his sentence before Prophis wraps him in a tight, one-arm hug. He litters his face in kisses, muttering “I love you” between each one. In his other hand, he holds the kitten away from Callisto in an effort to not smash the tiny thing.

“I love you too, darling, but I really should go dry off.” Prophis huffs, but does not let go, causing Callisto to chuckle. “Let me dry off and then we can cuddle, sound good? Wouldn’t want you getting all wet, considering you’ve already had your bottom surgery,” he teases, tapping Prophis’ hip.

Prophis slowly blinks as he processes that Callisto is still dripping wet and slowly steps back. “I somehow missed that- yes, yes, go dry off. I’ll be here taking care of this little guy.” He kisses his husband's cheek.

“You were offered cuddles after a long day of being home alone, and dove for the opportunity, my fault really. I’ll be back in a moment, darling.” Callisto walks off to the bathroom, but a second later his head pops back into the room. “I’d like to point out that ‘Spot’ is also soaking wet.”

Prophis nods and follows him into the bathroom, sits down on the floor with a towel, and dries the kitten off while cooing at him while Callisto dries up.

Callisto tries to wring the water out of his hair and clothes before mumbling “To hell with it” and completely stripping and snatching Prophis’ fluffy pink robe off the wall. He carefully pulls it on before loosely tying it in the front and burying his nose in its soft sleeve. The exhustion of the day begins to catch up with him as his eyes droop and his shoulders sag.

Prophis sees him out of the corner of his eye. He slowly stands up, still cradling the kitten in one hand, and gently readjusts the robe on Callisto with the other.

“Pink is your color, love,” Prophis hums, mirth alive in his eyes.

“Shh,” he mumbles into the sleeve. He lifts his head just enough to see his husband. “It smells like you, okay?”

The blonde trails his hand up to Callisto’s face and gently twirls one of the strands of brown hair around his fingers. “Mhm,” he hums. “Is that why you steal all my clothes?” he questions. Spot meows and Prophis briefly redirects his attention to the kitten, curling it closer to himself and making sure he is still securely held before giving his attention back to his very suddenly sleepy husband.

“Yeah, you have a nice smell, and furthermore, it’s the smell of my husband. I’d love your smell if you smelled like rancid garbage, but luckily for me you smell like vanilla candles and warmth.” Callisto rests his head against Prophis’ chest, but the cat's tiny tail keeps smacking him in the nose. He makes a disgruntled expression while shifting to rest his head in the crook of his husband's neck.

Prophis snickers as he gently puts the cat down, and wraps his husband in a proper hug before swaying them there. “I still think I smell like stale food, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.”

Callisto scowls against his husband’s neck. “You do not smell like stale food, this is a hill I will die on.”

The elf laughs, squeezing his husband a little tighter. “I know, we ‘argue’ about it once a week.”

“Yes, yes, we do.”

Prophis sighs. “How about this, let’s call this argument a draw and go to bed for some proper cuddles?”

Callisto nods with a loopy smile, the need to sleep finally winning.

“I love you,” he says quietly as the blonde leads them to the bedroom.

Prophis smiles. “I love you too, pretty boy, and thank you for bringing home Spot.”

[hinamie]

trick or treat!

[ultrainfinitepit]

Pride Angels 2024 - Part I

Here are the first half of my new Pride Angels designs! Featuring the following flags:

Abrosexual, Achillean, Agender, Ally, Aroace, Aromantic, Asexual, Bigender, Bisexual, Cupioromantic, Cupiosexual, Demiboy, Demigender, Demigirl, Demiromantic, Demisexual, Diamoric, Gay, Genderfae, Genderfaun, Genderfluid, Genderfluid (Alternate), Genderflux, Genderqueer, and Intersex.

Additional flags in Part II and Part III. You can go to each flag's post for transparent images, flat colors, and lineart. Read the FAQ and follow the campaign here: Pride Angels🌈

[murderandcoffee]

statement giver: some gay old man with eldritch powers is terrorizing me!

tired archival assistant: you’re going to have to be more specific than that

[quemaiglesias]

One Sixer, please!

[minxinq]

[ OC ] gaia

a demon adept in mimicry who escaped from hell and slaughtered a magical girl. she wears her skin and uses dark magic to preserve the image of her host in order to trick unsuspecting victims.

age: 70000

mimic form: 5’1

true form: 12’0 (including horns)

species: mimic demon

sexuality: aroace lesbian

in her mimic form, she uses a variety of weapons to dispose of innocents she doesn’t deem “worthy” to inhabit. her favourite is the chainsaw due to its messy tendencies. being stuck in hell for hundreds of centuries and only now escaping to the surface, she is fascinated with man-made weaponry, and finds it satisfying to kill humans with their own creations.

in her true form, she has sharp misshapen teeth, sunken eyes, long thin hair, sharp horns and claws. she is not made to be comprehended by humans, so to mortals, her body is a thin, constantly altering and pulsing mass of black vines. this is used to disorient victims.

gaia’s mimicry can be identified by the blurry/muddied, almost glassy eyes of her hosts. she has yet to find a way to disguise eyes properly. this detail is almost unnoticeable to mortals, however to other demons and hunters from hell like lynne, its very easy to spot.

as gaia is a runaway sinner, she is actively being hunted by lynne. however, despite lynne’s orders, she seems to have formed a strange bond with gaia. whether it is genuine or simply a form of deceit to lure in and dispose of the mimic is unknown.

[steampoweredwerehog]

Where they start:

What they get up to:

[thegnomelord]

I was talking with some friends and kinda came up with an original story idea where you're the new groundskeeper for a wealthy Victorian gentleman who is definitely not some kind of eldritch abomination.

Here's some touch and go snippets of what I thought of, lemme know if y'all want to see me turn this into an actual story.

CW: NSFW at the end, gay, homoerotic pining, Victorian gothic, mentions of murder.

Now I'm thinking ab a dark gothic Victorian gent who is *definitely* not some kind of eldritch abomination who marries wives who mysteriously disappear or die soon after and you're the new garden keeper who moves to work there because your old man is ill and the Victorian gent lets you live there and through no fault of your own you catch his interest and the way you smile as you handle the newly born lambs makes his, definitely not dead, heart beat.

----

You'd snuck in a 'friend' from the local brothel after your friends badgered your ears off about being a 'real man'. The night had gone poorly, she was a pretty woman, yes, but you just couldn't bring yourself to have sex no matter how hard you tried. You had to beg her not to tell anyone about your problem before paying her and sending her on her way yet. . . you can't find her anywhere.

It's as if she'd dissapeared in thin air (or was dragged by the carpets down into the maw in the basement) — Don't question the thing in the basement, you don't have to worry about that and it's probably just rats. Besides the door for the basement is never where you last remember it to be.

You could have sworn it was down the hall past the master's study but when you go to look all there is is just another grandiose painting, this time portraying the whore of Babylon riding on the many headed beast. And the master of the house appears before you can recognise the face of the whore, asking if you can fix the old light in his study that keeps flickering

---

You notice the master starts asking for you or going out of the house more often, usually to go horse back riding through the wide hunting woods you maintain behind the house. You're never sure why most of the animals shy away from the master like a devil from a cross, but there is one dove white steed that is the master's favorite. It's the only one who doesn't shy away, the one that you're not sure was in that empty paddock last night but you'd rather not lose your job by telling him you'd probably lost his horse and it came back.

The horse is sweet to you but you've seen it try to bite the other farm hands that get too close. Maybe it's just a temperament thing, animals feel more than you do after all, but. . . Hmm, where's that new farmhand that had slapped your ass gone to? And was the horse's muzzle always dyed red like that? Eh, someone must have just fed it some strawberries.

____

You get bullied by the chamber maid into helping her with cleaning the numerous bedrooms because the other two have come down with the seasonal flu and you were *sure* the nth bedroom you go to clean is empty, you'd checked it twice, but somehow when you pass through the very same door you enter the master's private bedroom and he's there in only his sleep clothes smiling at you and you can only stutter out weak apologies with your face a flame while your eyes stare at the other man in a way that would get the old town's priest rolling in his grave.

Oh yes, your ma and pa were extremely religious, dressing you up in your Sunday's best, taking you to church every Sunday regardless if it's rain or shine. You remember seeing the new master of the house when your parents were allowed to attend the previous master's seventh wedding. The master's family has long since supported the church and the local community, gaining favour from everyone despite the, erm, eccentric decorations and continuous wife deaths.

But death in child birth or from disease can happen to anyone, and what is a peasant like you supposed to understand the gentry?

Besides, the current master knows best what the wealthy people invited to his party expect from a man servant that you were commandered to be this evening. And if the young lord decides to tug off your cross necklace in favour of tying his own tie around your throat, slowly tightening it until the knot sits firmly at your Adam's apple and his ungloved fingers brush against your skin, and his smiling face is inches away looking at you like a man should not look at another man while purring how dashing you look tonight, who are you to argue?

----

The dairymaid had asked you to go get some honey from the beehives they keep. The door slowly budges open as you're forced to use more strength than you should, as if the house refuses to let you out this early in the morning, you were certain you'd oiled the hinges but it's an old house, it's bound to happen.

You go to the hives and for some reason the bees are not as violent as you remember your pa telling you about them being. They just buzz around you lazily as you carefully remove the frames with the honey.

You're nearly given a heart attack when you turn and the lord is there, behind you, staring at you with eyes you swear glint like the surface of an oil spill after a rainstorm but that must just be the light.

"Let me try some?" He asks, closing in, as if you have any ability or want to refuse.

He reaches out to grip your hand. Your fingers are still sticky with honey and for a second your blaspheming mind thinks he'll lick the honey off your fingers (god smite you down for that thought, you don't even know how many 'hail Mary's you'll need to recount for that).

He dips his fingers in the honey, rivulets of the golden liquid trickling down his knuckles as he slowly brings them up to his face and sticks them in his mouth. You know enough of the gentry and their weird customs to know this would be seen as unsightly, but you're neither gentry nor do you find yourself caring when he keeps his gaze locked on you even as his lips part, pink tongue swirling around his fingers to lick up all the honey in a way that makes you think it's purposeful. (It can't be, he's the lord for crying out loud, you can already hear your ma reaching for the lord's word to bash those sinful dirty blasphemous thoughts from your skull)

He pulls his fingers from his mouth with a loud sound that goes straight from your ears to your chest and down to where it shouldn't. Your hands itch to grab the cross around your neck and hold it but you only now remember the lord still has it, his tie still loosely wrapped around your neck. His eyes sparkle like stars "You should try some." He says, and he's tugging you by the arm before you can even start spouting your excuses about how it's not your place for such things.

----

Getting down on your knees in prayer, only for him to appear and gently grasp your chin - murmuring lowly how worship can be done later, that he needs you to do one more task before you pray and head to bed

That 'one more task' turns out to be a simple fix that for some reason takes longer than it should. The house does not want another's name to be spoken by your tongue and isn't above petty childish ploys of constantly flickering the one light in the lord's private chambers regardless of how many lightbulbs you change. The lord doesn't mind despite your growing emberassment, he likes the sight of your muscles tensed to stay balanced on that rickety ladder and how, despite your annoyance, you still treat the house - him- with care.

And it's late at night when you finish, so late everyone is asleep and there's no point in waking everyone up by trying to maneuver through the dark house with a candle.

"Stay the night." He says, order clear even without his hands tugging on your shirt. It's improper to sleep in the lord's bed in your work clothes after all, and you swear you see his eyes harden when he noticed that cross you'd managed to find, but it's soon discarded when he pulls the shirt over your head, cross dropping to the floor to be quietly swallowed by the carpets.

----

The only prayer he allows to be uttered in his house is the one you mutter when you fist your cock, squirreled away in your tiny room in the house. The only time he allows you to pray to your god is when his name is right next to Jesus and God the father, asking them for forgiveness for your sinful thoughts while you rut your cock into the sheets and moan his name as quietly as you think you're able to get away with.

He's learned not to 'stumble' on you in such a state, humans and their privacy, you were stone cold like a nun for a month when he'd did that once, and he'd missed the sweet prayers you sing him late at night when you think he's not listening.

[sukijan-leti]

Confession (1/3)

more under cut

CW for unsettling images!

based of The Summer Hikaru Died

[the-moon-files]

I’m not sure if I’ve said this one already or not, but I wanted to tell you anyways! It’s about the humans-are-not-hylians AU!

You know the uncanny valley evolution? That thing where when you look at something that resembles a living being too closely and some part of your mind is screaming that it’s not whatever it looks like and to get away from it? Imagine that with the reader! They can spot shapeshifters easily because of this, but it instills the same extreme primal fear we’d experience, so it might be hard for the reader to confront them at first and they’ll instead just tell the Chain for a while.

This might be a double edged sword, though, because when Twilight is in his wolf form, the reader still gets that same feeling when “Wolfie” is looking at them, whether or not they know it’s Twilight. In this case, the first time the reader spots Wolfie approaching the camp, they probably freak out and try to avoid him, even if the Links are okay with him or if he seems familiar to them.

The bottom line is that wolf isn’t a wolf, so what is he?

“It’s okay, he’s a really friendly wolf!”

“...That’s not a wolf...”

Sorry i took forever to respond!! im slow as always, life is too busy for even my hobbies lately sobs 😭

bro this is especially true bc someone looked back at TP games and how he looks in his “wolf” form, and apparently he is actually a dog lol - like at most a wolf-hybrid, i added this in to support this Hyrule-is-hella-Uncanny AU lol

Moon: Guide! - Gender Neutral/Masc!Reader (”you”/he/him)

Orbit: Short headcanons

Stars: mentions of most of our Links <3

Comets & Meteors: CWs: typical LU/Loz violence, mild swearing, etc & TWs: mild possible derealization trigger, talk of Link’s Awakening and Koholint.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

The Yiga clan members have never fooled you, not Once in person, unlike back when hyrule was still a video game

it was the constant smell of bananas, the way their eyes were always a little unfocused or they moved their head to move around their eyes, rather than their actual pupils moving, the facial muscles all stiff, usually stuck in an uncomfortable smile-

it makes more sense once u realize that they technically have a mask under that glamour hylian face, but its never not hilarious to see Wild look over his shoulder at you before approaching a lone traveler on the roads and watch him get increasingly frantic to get ur attention to see if theyre yiga lmao

u bet ur ass every link was relying on you on their adventures to know shapeshifters/illusions/glamours/etc. on sight and tell them to better prep them/warn them

tbh they all got at least a little better at being able to tell the difference the longer they heard you point out stuff/talk abt exactly why it was off-putting

(that said some of ur heroes are better at it than others, both in general, and certain aspects of it: like Twilight isn’t able to pick up illusions/glamours for the life of him, literally, sometimes, but he is more likely to figure out shapeshifters by scent after you Guided him)

(no, your heart didnt crack a little after learning that the boys had a harder time with deceit after you stopped playing the game = “were forced to leave after their adventure” bc while they were better at detecting it, they werent on ur human level yet..)

(…the only deception you ever really fell for was Koholint. It was so painful too, because Legend quietly disclosed to you one late night that you would constantly get strange feelings/uncanny disturbances, but were never able to put a name to it for him, which both made you jumpy/paranoid on the island, but made him regret ever letting his guard down all the more or feel guilty for what felt like dismissing ur instincts the more he relaxed… Legend never doubted your sense for the uncanny ever again. He takes it seriously every time now.

When you feel as if you should apologize, he tells u not to, that these days he takes comfort in it actually, it makes him feel safer. Legend looks to your face for confirmation that something isn’t a dream, and if you look at ease, so is he.)

its the way you casually laugh at Twi being called “Wolfie” when he’s obviously a wolf-dog hybrid or just a big dog

and when everyones confused u just explain smth smth, wolf heads are larger in comparison to their body, their legs are narrow, their paws are big, dogs are like the oppposite, or way more proportional like “Wolfie” is, dogs bob around when they run like “wolfie”, and have shorter legs,

smth smth wolves cant have eye colors like blue, only dogs/wolf-dog hybrids can silly-

and Wolfie is just like, 😐 😑 😐

turning around and walking away, bc hylias knotted fucking braid- he really cant escape the dog accusations now, you literally used ur freaky truth-seeing instinct and read his shapeshifter ass from head to literal toe/paw-

Wild/Hyrule look fascinated, Wind and Legend cant breath theyre laughing so hard, Time is coughing suspiciously into his fist and pops back up smirking, Four is laughing but also encouraging you to keep going, Sky is desperately trying to keep it together while also trying to get Twi to come back lmao, Wars is literally pointing and laughing ashkljdl-

ok but Twi gets his revenge later by tricking you into yapping abt how Hyrule/Four/Time all kind of look “off” sometimes too

like how u swear Rulie is glowing subtly when the moon is full, or how the world distorts behind his back sometimes,

or how Four’s eyes change colors all the time, his fighting style looks like its rotating between 4 diff ppl’s techniques,

or how Time’s face wrinkles like smile lines/crows feet at the corner of his eyes will randomly appear and disappear, how he’ll have some stubble one day then 3 days later despite having not shaven (u literally saw him wake up and do his morning routine) it’ll disappear like it was never there in the first place-

and when Twi has stopped asking you abt the others as they all reel over the knowledge of what all u can tell abt them,

(ur quietly relieved no one asked abt Wild.

You resolve urself to just lie if anyone asks, even to Wild himself.)

☆

hey im alive!! im slow yknow how it is,

ive been doing too much, and i cant wait to be done with this class so i can have free time guilt free again 🥲

god thats one good thing abt getting out of academia i dont miss and would only wish on my worst enemy,

the anxiety of doing smth, even necessary stuff like eating/sleeping/showering, and feeling liek you should be doing homework instead, god its so awful

cant wait to feel like an adult with my own life again lmao

that certification better work and get me a white collar job goddamit 🤞

anyway, hope ur all having a good weekend,

and just to let u know, im so happy acc that im alive to see the first zelda game that actually follows what i originally thought the plot of zelda games was when i was a kid lmao

(zelda as the protag, saving link!!)

Peace out,

🌙

[blitzendoggo]

Together Again

In Backspace, Emerald has set up a meeting that will make both groups happier because they have what the other needs. Emerald forgot to mention one key difference.

Callisto/Prophis (1195 words) 

~~

“It’s not exactly common for a Callisto-”

“I’d prefer if you stopped referring to me as ‘a Callisto’.”

“To arrive without his respective Prophis, if they were romantically involved that is.”

“What are you suggesting?” Callisto asks hotly, internally seething at the suggestion that he did not care for Prophis. 

Emerald stops walking before slowly turning to the man. “I’m implying nothing, only stating that your group is stranger than we previously thought.”

“Where are you taking us again?” Glib asks before Callisto can lob a fireball at the shadowed man. 

Emerald glances down at Glib before resuming his walk. “The group that arrived here before you was odd in a similar fashion. It is rare for those romantically involved to not appear together, no matter those in the relationship, and believe me,” Emerald casts a glance over their shoulder at the group trailing behind them, “I have seen some odd pairings.” 

The party gives each other questioning looks, minds wandering to the worse outcomes of these romantic pairings before Emerald draws their attention back. “But it is not only the romantic loss that sets your group dynamic apart.” They stop in front of a bulkhead door and the raspy-voiced individual turns to them, an almost optimistic look on their dark face. “You are also missing a close friend.” Although none of the group says anything, the mood of the room dampens as they separately grieve S.G.

Without another word, Emerald slides a card across a scanner, a green light blinks rapidly, and the door opens as the sound of air decompressing echoes through the quiet corridor. The heavy door slowly opens, and Emerald steps through followed closely by Callisto, Glib, and Goodbid. 

Standing in the middle of the room is a group of three people, two of which talk in hushed almost aggressive voices while the third stands to the side of one, face obscured but posture uncomfortable.

“I’m just saying, don’t get your hopes up,” the S.G. variant hisses. They look identical to their S.G. except for a jagged, lightning-strike-shaped scar that runs the length of their face, fanning over the majority of it. If the changeling had facial features, the scar would have horribly distorted them or made them unusable. 

“And I’m saying that there is nothing wrong with a bit of optimism,” Prophis says. His hair is braided loosely and pulled to the side, strands of chaos magic glistening in the light. He is dressed identically to the other Prophis, but his eyes are tired, more so than their Prophis’.

“Um, guys?” the third figure speaks up, though his face is obstructed as he half hides behind Prophis, his nervous tone is clear. “They’re here.”

Callisto stands slack-jawed as the other two men step in around him. Emerald shuts the door and walks to the center of the room, allowing the two groups to stare at each other for a moment before he speaks, “Considering your backgrounds are extremely alike, with only a few notable differences,” he nods to the figure still hiding behind Prophis, “the council and I decided that it would be in both parties best interest to combine your groups.” He looks between them before nodding to himself, satisfied. “I’ll leave you to get orientated.” The room goes dark followed by heavy footsteps and the lights come back to an Emerald-less room. 

A heavy silence permeates the room before Goodbid takes off his hat and steps forward. “Ain’t no reason to beat around the bush,” he says bluntly before his smile softens at the edges. “We know who you are, and you know who we are, but I gotta ask, who is that hidin’ behind ya?” 

S.G. and Prophis give each other uncomfortable glances but the person behind Prophis slowly steps out. He is an air genasi with long white hair, tied back in a similar way that Prophis used to wear his hair. He is wearing a tight black long-sleeved shirt, simple black cargo pants, and work boots. Sticking out of random pockets are numerous tools and the genasi’s face is streaked with oil and soot, making it clear that he was working on a machine before coming to this meeting. On his back is a sword that strikes the party as familiar, but they can’t place where they’ve seen it before. 

“Hi,” his voice shakes as he throws a glance at Prophis, making sure the man is still there before gaining more confidence and making eye contact with Callisto. “I’m Reylias, and I’m your son.” 

The dark-haired man stares at Reylias, mouth agape before Glib starts laughing.

“God, I wish S.G. was here to see your face!” he gasps, doubling over as his entire body convulses.

“Why is that?” S.G. asks, voice clearly skeptical.

“Because when we met Reylias, S.G. gaslit him into thinking that his dad was Callisto!” Glib explains as he straightens back up. “He almost believed it too.” Goodbid and S.G. cackle as Callisto, Prophis, and Reylias still look at each other like anxious animals. 

“Father was never fond of hugs,” Reylias says quietly, “but I had to watch him die without the chance to tell him goodbye.” He looks back to Prophis who nods encouragingly. “And I know that I am not your son, but.” he takes a deep breath and rushes out, “I was hoping to get a hug from you.”

Callisto stands stock still as the room waits for his reaction. Callisto suddenly surges forward and draws the genasi into a tight hug, burying one hand into his hair to pull his head down. Reylias collapses most of his body weight onto the smaller man as he wraps his arms tightly around him. Callisto rubs a soothing hand down the taller’s back as they both breathe raggedly. 

Callisto laughs as he pulls Reylias’ face away and cradles it into his hands.

“We always wanted a child,” he says with more emotion than anyone -other than Prophis- has ever heard from him. He kisses Reylias’ temple as tears streak down his cheeks. “I’m glad I finally have one.” He releases the taller’s face and pulls him into his side as he turns his attention to Prophis who has begun to silently cry. “Come here, my dear.” He holds out a hand which Prophis takes. “There are many stories that need to be shared.” Callisto kisses Prophis -which Reylias jokingly gags at- before they devolve into giggles and tears.

S.G. sneaks past the family reunion and joins Glib and Goodbid whose jaws are sitting on the floor. 

“That was weird, yes?” the changeling says in their heads to which the boys nod. “Do you want to go to the cafeteria and let them have their moment?”

Glib doesn’t respond, but Goodbid slowly turns his head and nods. They quietly sneak out the door as the happy family tells stories from their respective timelines.

“Happy Callisto is the weirdest thing I think I've ever seen,” Glib says once they’ve reached the hallway, “And I saw a Frankie Goodbid making out with a pastel-colored Zalkas while riding a black Warhorse Friday in the breakfast hall.”

[queruloustea]

gay bugs :]

(my brain has rotted)

[arrimorr-otgw-spam-blog]

Enoch loves sun bathing