#however fucking weirdly I’m now wired that’s like the hottest thing to me

[pegging-satan]

I might have some weird kinks like sharp objects, the feel of cold metal on my skin, maybe even a little nick and cut here n there I DONT KNOW WHY but the sting is kinda 👉👈 nice HMMMM idk what that’s says about me I do but like hehe maybe some hot sharp objects 👀MAN IDK jdjdhsjdhsj

[mythicandco]

No one asked me to write this but fuck it I’m writing it anyways

Tendrils of blue still clinging to her hair, Anne’s eyes darted from where her friends were fighting to the now-revealed staircase into the dark. 

“Find Sasha and Marcy!” Yunan yelled, swiping at a toad robot and slicing it cleanly in half. Toadbot? Automatoad? “We can’t hold them off for much longer!” 

But Anne couldn’t move. Her lungs stopped working, and everything blurred for a few moments. Then she was running - down the steps, almost tripping over herself, her hair glowing more than it was before to illuminate the way. 

She stopped, panting for breath, at the bottom of the staircase. She could hear her own heart hammering in her chest, pounding through her brain, making everything spin. It was dark, even with a blue glow surrounding her. 

Blue light meets pink and Anne picks up the small piece of coral-shaped rock Sasha used... back before they knew about Andrias’ plans, or Marcy’s secrets, or anything, really. It made her guitar louder, if Anne remembers correctly.

It’s no big deal, yeah, no big deal~!

It’s almost a laughable memory, except it’s Anne’s last pleasant one involving her gir friends. 

(That was a typo. “G” and “F” are very close to each other on the keyboard, and I mixed up the “R” and the “I” in “friends”.)

That’s when she hears the sobs. 

A nondescript lump on the floor, wrapped in a tattered, dark red cloak. Her blonde hair has been messily cut to more than half it’s length, and a green hair pin is clearly visible even though her face isn’t. 

“...Sasha?” 

Anne takes a step forward, suddenly aware of how loud her footsteps are. She’s... never seen Sasha cry like this before. 

“I can’t do anything, Anne.” It’s mixed with tears, and her voice sounds so hoarse, so dry, like she’s been screaming yelling at something. “I’m absolutely useless.” 

The girl was suddenly aware of how cold the room was, the clamminess clinging to her skin like cobwebs, the smooth, frigidness of the floor she could feel even through her sneakers. Sasha looked up at her, bleeding from her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was red. She’d been crying for a while. 

“Sasha, what happened?” Anne’s voice was louder than she thought it’d be. She inhaled and tried again, quieter this time. “Where’s Marcy?” 

A bitter, dry laugh escaped Sasha’s throat, tears brimming in her eyes again. They seemed to flicker reddish-pink for a second, but Anne realized it was just the rock-coral guitar thing she was holding in her hand. It was warm, and rough, but also weirdly smooth where the edges cut clearly into little geometric angles in her palm. She squeezed it tightly, aware of her knuckles turning white. Anne’s ears started ringing and her heartbeat increased. 

“She’s gone. It’s hopeless,” the blonde somehow sank lower to the floor without straight-up laying down and pressing her face into it. She looked just about ready to dig herself a hole and never come out, with her hair a mess and the gleam in her eyes a desperate hysteria. 

And then Anne is aware of how everything smells - like burnt flesh, and blood, and salt, and... mint-chocolate chip ice cream? 

A dim orange glow appears behind Sasha. The blonde either doesn’t notice or has given up and doesn’t care. Interweaving wires and tubes appear around the walls of the room, and Anne’s stomach flips upside down. She’s pretty sure her lungs stop working again, too. 

The glow intensifies, and finally the silhouette of someone appears, sitting on a throne with tubes connected to it like puppet strings to a lifeless doll. Anne freezes, the chill of the room reaching her bones. She can’t move. 

For real this time. 

Eyes - too many eyes, TOO MANY EYES - open, one after the other, only serving to make the silhouette more defined. It’s face is illuminated just enough to make out human features - however everything above it’s mouth is covered in a shiny, dome-like helmet. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

NO.

Anne finally understands why Sasha - the bravest, strongest, most ruthless, apathetic person she knows - is a sobbing mess on the floor. 

“So you’re the Heart. Marcy had such fond memories of you.” 

And then there are more eyes, but these are in the wrong place because Marcy doesn’t have that many eyes and they were never that color but

THIS ISN’T MARCY ANYMORE.

Anne chokes on whatever she was going to say. Green flashes in her vision, and then blue. Blue, the color of sadness and the hottest of fires. Blue, the only color Anne can feel. 

There’s a shout, which is probably Sasha, but all Anne can see are those glowing orange eyes and that smile that doesn’t belong here, it belongs back home where they were all safe and in love, a smile that should never in a million years be attached to this thing that isn’t Marcy. 

“Go ahead.”

Something slams into her, and Anne and Sasha go sprawling across the floor. 

“What are you doing?” the blonde screams right in Anne’s ear, and she winces. A laugh that isn’t either of the girl’s (but sounds just a bit too familiar) booms across the space. 

“Cute, but really. Neither of you would let the other harm this precious human body.”

Anne looks into Sasha’s wide eyes and knows that’s true. She stands up and wobbly legs, and reaches out to help the other girl to her feet. Sasha stares up at her, but accepts the help. 

“What did you do to her?” Anne says, her voice sounding a lot closer to tears than she thought it would. There are wet lines on her face - when did she start crying? 

When did she stop crying?

“Exactly what it’s intended purpose was. Andrias was, admittedly... more excited and caught in the heat of the moment than he should’ve been, but this vessel has been far more useful than anticipated.” 

It’s Sasha’s turn to shout. “Give her back!” 

Anne hears the echo of her own words in her friend’s voice more than she hears just how hollow Sasha sounds, like she’s just talking normally with the volume turned way up. 

The thing inside of Marcy tilts it’s head at the girls, the cheeky smile gone in an instant. 

“I’ve waited for this for hundreds of thousands of years. I’m certainly not going to give it up just because you want me to.” 

Anne feels blue again, and this time is too fast for Sasha to stop her. A loud crack breaks the stifling, suffocating cold of the room and the orange eyes stop glowing. 

The room goes dark. A heartbeat passes. 

A scream - if that’s even the right word to describe it - goes off, and the whole room shakes. Anne swears she’s bleeding from her ears as she claps her hands over them in an ultimately useless attempt to block out the sound of a million smoke detectors going off and a thousand microwaves exploding. 

As soon as it starts, it stops. Sasha lets out a groan, and Anne’s hands curl into fists against the ground. When did she crumple to the floor? 

The room is one again illuminated only by Anne’s receding blue flames and the partially-crushed rock-coral in her hand. 

“Anne...” 

It’s not Sasha’s voice. 

The helmet is cracked, and it’s wearer is bleeding from a gash above their eye. Anne can’t really see anything from her angle, but it’s forcing Marcy to keep one of their eyes closed in order to prevent the blood from pouring into it. 

Anne hopes beyond hope, and fears beyond fear. Her voice is small, so quiet she can barely hear it in the dead silent room. 

“...Marcy?”