#i love explaining all this lore that i have sitting in my docs

[dat-silvers-girl]

Why did Sarahi faked her death ?

I don't remember if I've ever written that down in a fic that I uploaded... Did you hear this plotline of mine among my many ramblings on YouTube?

And I'm so glad you asked this question, anon, and I'd be happy to answer. I hope you like very long answers! Here goes...

Faking her death wasn't wholly Sarahi's choice. Nor is it what she was going for.

Her intention was to just save Corey from Verucca, bring him back to Hogwarts from the Shrieking Shack, and just go AWOL for a week at most, as she ran with Jacob. But in the Shrieking Shack, Verucca cursed Sarahi, and she should have definitely died from that curse. To Verucca's knowledge, no one knew the counter-curse for the dark curse that was quickly killing Sarahi. But she didn't know that Rakepick DID know the counter-curse. Smug as hell and very proud of the fact that Rakepick would watch her favourite student die painfully, Verucca disapparated from the Shrieking Shack. Once she was gone, Rakepick perfomed the counter-curse on Sarahi, stopping the spread of the curse, and then took both Sarahi and Corey to the home of her girlfriend best friend, Adelaide Inkwell, who was a 'member' of R as well, but was secretly running a small group against R- a Rebellion, if you will.

Adelaide knew a very specific potion that would help cure Sarahi of her curse, and help deal with it's after effects. Sarahi's recovery would unfortunately be long and arduous, during which she would not have been able to defend herself or help her friends should R try to mess with them again. Eventually, once Sarahi was conscious, everyone reached the descision that it would be best for R to believe that she died in the Shrieking Shack, at least for a while. Not only would this give Sarahi the time to recover and regain her strength, it would also make it so R would no longer have a reason to target her friends. Corey agreed to this as well, and in an effort to make sure no one, including himself, had even a smidge of knowledge about where Sarahi was, elected to have his memory of the situation erased. Adelaide made sure that Corey reached near at least Hogsmeade safely, before she reluctantly erased his memory of her home and the fact that Sarahi survived. A now panicked Corey, whose last memory left was the image of a dying Sarahi, would go on to explain that Sarahi was dying when he last saw her, and that he doesn't remember how he got to Hogsmeade.

Basically, Rakepick and Adelaide, with Sarahi's permission, decided to let everyone believe that she was dead, for both her safety, and the safety of her friends. Sarahi would remain hidden in Adelaide's home/safehouse for two-and-a-half months, and the rest of the world truly believed she died.

Except Barnaby who believed that she wasn't, and after patiently waiting for Sarahi to return for two months, decided to say frick it, and went looking for her himself... Or at least he was by himself until Ismelda, Chiara, and Levi Kidd decided to invite themselves into the search party.

[yeyinde]

HELLO! In 2021, I read your ao3 work, "baby, (dont) fear the reaper" for the first time. For 3 years since, i have been haunted. Occasionally i would go back and read your work front to back. Tbh, i didnt know much about dbd lore at the time. i read it bcs it has some vibes that im into, and boy oh boy, those vibes do not disappoint! Halfway through i realized that if your work was a novel, i would buy it 100%, no matter the cost. I fell in love with how the reader was portrayed, how such a somber and melancholic personality can be twisted into such a calculating, patient, and analytical character. Danny too, how the hell did you capture such a narcissist is beyond me. Reader's descend into revenge felt normal, a natural progression, like how a river flows into the sea. Though i never expected Reader to start hunting Danny back, i thought Reader will always be the prey, never the predator. Though, there are tells, from how the reader feels a bit detached (?) from their childhood, carrying heart scars from a toxic childhood friend, how Reader continues their friendship with the aforementioned toxic childhood best friend (a love for rebels, maybe? Or is it a want for the dark resulting in admiration, and then, love?) despite the harm it inflicts. (That flashback chapter to Reader's childhood will always be one of my favorite chapters!) Whatever it is, Danny is the nail in the coffin, pushing Reader into the cliff to freefall into madness. Danny is the real head scratcher, though. Even though there are whole chapters dedicated to Dannys's POV, i still cant understand why Danny is so enamored with Reader. Yes, Reader gets him in a way no one can, but what is it with Reader being a past victim of a homicide that attracts Danny so hard? He even lets his guard down around Reader-he invites her to his motel for god's sake! Albeit to craft alibi, of course, but still. There's a whole chapter on it, where Danny finds out about Reader's case, but i still cant wrap my head around it. As the author, would you mind delving into Danny's head again to explain why Reader has such a chokehold on Danny? (no pressure, of couse!)

-also sorry for bad English, love you! <3

i love talking about bdfr! it's my baby!! i still have the original Google Doc with all the chapters, the playlist, and the outline because it was one of those things i could never really part with. and i can't believe you've enjoyed it so much!!! i'm so thankful for that because this was really a labour of love. i left pieces of myself in it that i don't think i can ever get back, and i genuinely don't think i could ever write anything like it again. it was my lightning-in-a-bottle moment, for sure. and ahhhhhhhh, 2021??? has it really been that long?? it feels like it was only a few months ago that i was sitting in my car eating a lobster roll and writing out the "Home Depot" opener on my phone lmao

but Danny's obsession with their case stems largely from his own narcissism, really. it's also his eventual downfall. Danny (and most, if not all, of the Ghostface Killers) is canonically obsessed with horror. a very morbid fanboy. so him meeting a surviving victim of one spurns his curiosity but also, his competitiveness. Danny is the showstopper. everything he does is very theatrical. he can't help the nagging sense of inferiority whenever someone else comes along. so he's caught in a loop of comparing himself to this other person, and also angry that you let yourself get caught by someone so subpar.

eventually, Danny comes to the conclusion that you're supposed to be his Final Girl, but someone else got to you first. and it's the anger, the jealousy, the obsession that really kicks everything into motion between them. and the reason Danny comes to this conclusion is a bit of a misunderstanding in three parts. Cat and Mouse (killer versus spunky Everyman Journalist); the Perfect Victim (Final Girl Blueprint); and then Two Sides of the Same Coin (or: there was always supposed to be two Ghostface killers, right?). that's the outline i stuck to when writing their specific arc.

this got super long so i put my notes on all three arcs Danny goes through under the cut. i mapped this story out pretty meticulously, so i hope my initial outline sheds some light on the insanity that is Danny lmao

Cat and Mouse is just a manifestation of Danny's boredom. at this point in his life, he's pretty stagnant. this arc would be Halloween H20 for him. the Florida Murders haven't happened yet, but he's been all over the US and no one has come close to catching him. Jed is still a persona he can use without worry of being caught.

and then you come along, and you're immediately wary of Jed. this hasn't happened much for him. he's able to read people with a shocking amount of ease and knows how to tune himself to their personality. either being overly friendly (Leslie and Jed), flirtatious (Gemma and Jed), competitive (Colton and Jed), or extremely competent (Jonah and Jed), but you're the outlier. the one he can't read. he tunes himself into the Old You, but it obviously doesn't work anymore because that version of you is gone. he misreads you. this strikes a nerve. it's never happened before.

it's exacerbated by your wariness of Jed, too. the way you go out of your way to avoid him, despite how much he adjusts his supposedly infallible personality to match you, it never seems to work. you're always on edge. you never trust him.

and then you make the comment (to his face, no less) about him being a narcissist. and this shouldn't be as huge of a moment as it is. Danny's been doing this for a long time, and it's kinda crazy to assume no one has clocked his Ghostface persona. but it's the fact that you say this so openly. and given everything that's happened to you, it heightens the stakes for him. for the first time in a long time, Danny feels like he could (potentially) be cornered. he also feels seen. and for a narcissistic serial killer who craves attention and admiration and fear (as noted in his POV chap., song choices), this is straight dopamine for him. it's everything.

so, he tosses you into the role of his foil. the one who will chase him to the very brink. but he doesn't anticipate the fact that you'd almost willfully ignore the warning signs right in front of you just to remain inside this bracket of normalcy you're still desperately clinging to (which is your own narrative downfall). he goes out of his way to make you catch onto him, almost angry that you don't.

it then kicks off the second part. he starts to consider you HIS Final Girl. but there's a problem. you're not his. you'll never be his. for such an unrepentant narcissist, this is almost too much. he's bordering on the edge of utter fury and an almost noxious jealousy. he wants to be your demise so badly that it bleeds into just pure, unfettered want.

and then the final part of their story is Twisted Soulmates. it kinda struck me as odd that every single Scream film had TWO Ghostfaces. it's kind of the blueprint. but DBD does not. they just had Danny. so i started thinking about what would happen if there were always supposed to be two, and added elements of Danny's loneliness. he wants, desperately, to share his work with someone who understands but this sort of thing would never appeal to the general public that's he trapped inside. he also risks getting caught. it can never happen.

until you. your anger at the man who did this to you, who ruined your life, is as potent as his desire to kill. he can see it in you. this darkness. this shifting, ugly rage brimming just below the surface. it makes his hackles rise because you could be the perfect partner.

it's a big part of why he spends so much time trying to "show off." why he gets so jealous when you focus your attention on Michael Myers instead of him. and why he feels the need to get rid of Leslie. she's a moral obstacle in your way.

he wants your attention now. he wants your everything, but there are parts of you that he'll never have, and this loss is too great to ever let your relationship work in the "real" world. but in all honesty, he's fine with being your eventual demise if you decide not to go with him. being your FINAL killer is something he fantasises about a lot. he wants to kill you from the moment he sees your wariness over Jed to the very end when he makes you chase him all the way to Utah.

but then the Entity intervenes, and suddenly Danny has a way to have everything he wants. your death (over and over and over again), and you with him (forever, always, eternity). but his narcissism does not let him see the killer you're shaping into. and when you end up turning the plot on him, using your "friend" as bait to lure him in, Danny knows he's gravely misunderstood you. in fact, he's never really known the real you at all.

this, of course, just spurns the obsessiveness in him further, making it very unlikely that he'll ever let you go.

[yuffi369]

Feathers of Fate

Ok so now that I've had a chance to sit at my laptop for ease of typing, I would like to offer some feedback to the system!

Keep in mind this feedback is pre-playtesting, as I only just discovered it this morning and haven't had a chance to playtest it with friends. This is going off my prior experience with TTRPG's both as a player and as a DM/GM/Storyteller.

This post is gonna be under a cut cuz it might get lengthy, but if you would like to read up on the system as it is before reading this post, here is a link to the google doc of v1 of the rules, and the dev blog is @funnybirdgame if you would like to follow them to get updates!!

so firstly,

What I really, REALLY like

so obviously I really like the concept. Otherwise I wouldn't even be doing this post tbh. I saw the post, was intrigued, and then had an epiphany.

Nostalgiaaaaa

ok so to get this point out of the way to lay my biases out on the table, the concept IMMEDIATELY reminds me of Guardians of Ga'Hoole, a book series I read as a kid that has 15+ books (it's still going as far as I'm aware which, alright, get it girl). For those unaware of the book series, it's basically Warrior Cats but with owls. For those unaware of that series, can i join you under the rock you live under? it looks cozy the concept of Guardians of Ga'Hoole is that owls have their own society and the Guardians of Ga'Hoole is this knight order of legend that lives in the far-off distance and supposedly is sworn to protect all of Owlkind from great evil. It's a whole thing really, I'm not gonna get into it too much.

Obviously, there's more than just owls in this game, it's all birds. But I bring this up to sort of lead into some of the additions I want to bring to the table, as well as just. Explain my very excited tone of this post. So obviously I may be a bit biased in wanting to see the success of this system and giving it feedback.

The Simplicity

I actually REALLY love how simplified the system is. It definitely isn't a 1-pager, for sure, but the skills are simple and well-explained in only one sentence, and the items and what they're used for are also very self-explanatory. While there is an appeal in making things crunchy and a bit complex (I'm a d&d 5e addict at heart, I love the system a lot both because it's my first and it in my opinion walks a very good line between easy to grasp and complex enough to provide a good challenge), there is just as much appeal in making something you can very easily grasp session 1.

Fate Points

I actually really like the fate points system here. It's simple, it doesn't let players hoard a bunch throughout a game, and it allows players who eat absolute shit at a particular roll to feel at least a bit better cuz, hey, at least I get some fate points out of the 1 I rolled. No notes here but I WILL mention the Fate Points later.

The LOOOOOOOORRRREEE

So I am REALLY intrigued by the implicated lore already. A good system will allow a Storyteller, who is effectively writing an interactive novel for their friends, to go absolutely nuts telling a story. There are so many questions that could be answered here. What caused the humans to go extinct? When did they go extinct? What other animals have intelligence, if any? Why do birds have human-like intelligence now?

A post-apocalypse setting has a TON of opportunity for environmental storytelling which is I think my favorite way of telling a story in games. Describing structures that, to a human it would be obvious what it is, but to a bird, who has no clue of the original intent of the structure when it was complete, let alone in ruins, you could have so much fun painting a picture of the environment.

Now for what I don't like so much

I did say I had some feedback. This includes positive and negative. This is version 1 of the rules, and I've never actually written my own system before, but I have played and DM'd a lot (not just 5e) and so I can tell by reading when things need to be tweaked. This isn't going to be super harsh or anything, it's gonna have the same tone as the rest of this post, pretty casual.

The Dice & Stat System

So, to get my biggest criticism out of the way. The stats system in this scares me. Using a different die for every stat, while cool in theory, really knocks some things off of balance and isn't conducive to a couple things that make a TTRPG good for long-term, multi-session play.

So, one of the issues you're going to run into using this is character progression. You're going to run into a point where a player builds their character, and they're going to want to improve stats that they kinda suck at. Character growth! We love to see it! Not just in terms of how the character is played at a social and narrative level, but people love seeing numbers go up. There's no real way to effectively progress in a stat you suck pellets at, like if you put a d4 in perception and you realize you're getting your party into trouble by blindly walking into traps. (Not speaking from experience or anything...)

Another pitfall this system has is that, alongside individual character progression being stifled, it will lead to party composition being stale. Don't get me wrong, having characters in a party that are better-suited for certain tasks is GOOD. Let the rogue be the one who picks locks because that's their thing, let the bard be the one to talk to the politicians, et cetera. However. With no real way for a character to progress in a stat, the party never really changes up this dynamic. Why would you EVER use a stat you put a d4 in if your friend has a d20? You'll just let them do their thing. You won't even bother trying. Even if the Storyteller accounts for this and balances the check accordingly, there's no accounting for the huge gap there. It isn't bad for a party to be composed of different birds who are better at different things, per se, but it does make for gameplay that will get stale. Checks will get stale, too, because if you have someone who uses an item in their best skill to roll 2d20, well, the check is more than likely guaranteed to succeed if they roll a 40.

So to combat this problem I recommend using a different way to go about dice, known as;

DICE POOLS

If you've never played a system with dice pools before, it's somewhat intuitive. Instead of having a target number to roll and add up to or above, instead, your stat will determine the amount of dice you roll. Certain numbers on the die will mean either success or failure (typically the lower half of the die is a failure, the upper half is a success). You count the number of successes you roll, and you have to reach a target number of successes to do the thing you want to do. To give an example;

Soren wants to use Agility to dodge out of the way of an attack as a reaction in-combat. Soren's Agility stat has a 2 next to it, meaning he rolls 2 dice in this check. He also has the Air Fins item, allowing him to gain an extra die to roll when he rolls to dodge mid-air, meaning he gets to roll 3 dice total. He rolls his dice, and the numbers he rolls are 3, 4, and 6. Since 1-3 is a failure and 4-6 is a success, he tells the Storyteller he got 2 successes. The Storyteller tells him that he passed the check, and dodges out of the way of the attack.

Dice pool systems are used in games in the World of Darkness system, which is mainly where I'm pulling my inspiration for this example. They use d10's and I can't remember which numbers mean success or failures because I use the fancy dice with the symbols on the success sides and blanks on the failure sides. I recommend using d6's because while, yes, we are playing as birds and I'm almost positive anyone interested in this system is a dice hoarder (crows. d'you get it), d6's are the easiest dice to get ahold of in a pinch. Very easy to make a cube out of paper! Not so much a dodecahedron.

You can also still have critical success and critical failures, which can add some dynamic features to dice tests. Example;

Soren wants to recall some information about a structure. He has a 3 in Cunning, so he rolls 3 dice, and he has an Informational Tome that gives him 1 additional dice, meaning he rolls 4 dice in total. He rolls a 4, a 5, and two 6's. Soren knows that a 6 is a critical success, so he lets the Storyteller know that he got 4 successes, and that 2 of them are crits. The Storyteller can then choose to give extra information that Soren otherwise may not have gotten had he not succeeded so well, such as a guess at the purpose of the structure based on Soren's previous knowledge.

You can also use critical success as a tiebreaker, such as when two players roll the same number of successes on a check for combat initiative; the person with the most crits in their roll can go first.

A dice pool system like this allows for people to improve their skills over time, using experience gained by leveling up to purchase extra die to roll during tests. This still allows for certain characters to be better at something than others, but also opens up the floor to characters to get better at a skill to be on-par with their team. It also curbs the problem of being able to roll a ridiculous amount of points above the target number.

I do recommend that with the dice pool system you have a maximum number of points you can put into one stat. I recommend 5 as it's a nice even number, as with a standard item that only gives a +1 buff to a stat in a certain situation you can roll 6 dice total. Not including Fate Points.

Speaking of fate points! This allows for fate points to be more balanced. If you've been hoarding Fate Points during a session where you've rolled a lot of 1's, you don't get to roll, say, 5d20's and absolutely obliterate the bbeg of the session. Instead it's just more d6's. It does still allow for a player to roll, say, 10 dice, but like, at that point, that's exciting for the whole table and we love that energy (or at least I do personally, as someone who's rolled 15 dice for an attack check on a VtM character), and who's to say how many successes that will give them?

One more thing I will add, this allows you to not be beholden to only 7 stats. You can add some, you can remove some. I personally recommend adding a stat like Knowledge, to recall things in books and to do medicine checks, and leave Cunning for social smarts like lying and using tools.

Ok that's enough about dice, how about other stuff?

Birds

aka "I wanna play a chicken"

In the car this morning I had the brilliant realization that birds aren't just restricted to ones that fly. I'm sure upon first glance this system might call to mind owls, ravens, and crows. Maybe a few of you thought of some songbirds.

I thought of chickens.

Regardless of the kind of bird you want to play, there's no real benefit to your choice. Sure, you can play a chicken, but why would you want to when there's no real benefit and you can't fly with the rest of your party? There should be some incentive to take certain birds over others.

This also allows you to sprinkle in some bird facts, which, I'm not a bird expert myself, but I've heard people who are into birds REALLY LOVE sharing bird facts.

For example, a crow might have a +1 in Cunning, and a special ability to use improvised tools better, but their drawback is that they are easily distracted by shiny things and have a debuff to Determination when there's distractions around.

An owl might have a +1 in Knowledge, and a special ability to have an extra die when hunting because they're birds of prey, but they have a debuff to Perception during the day time.

Et cetera, et cetera.

I know that D&D 5e did away with racial buffs and debuffs a while ago, but I really like the idea that choosing what bird you want to play has some effect on gameplay. You can still play a bird counter to what they would 'stereotypically' be good at, mind you, but this just gives some extra features and fun things to do as that bird.

In conclusion!

I really wanna play this. Maybe over this weekend I'll convince people to play it with me. I do want to playtest the rules as-is, because while I do have a lot of knowledge in my belt already, I do want to at least see the system run hands-on so that I can at least determine if my current feedback has merit and if there's anything else I can add.

I am also more than happy to write up a formal version of all the stuff I talked about here in my own Google Doc to share.

[daryfromthefuture]

🖊️ 👦 💫 for BttF ask game!

✒️you are hired to write/draw a new bttf comic. what would it be about?

you KNOW what i'm going to say bg LMAO

but yes i would love to work with 40s doc and all that lore. we only got minimal content in the comics and i would love to see how his life during the project looked like and his reaction and all that stuff that we can only speculate about. maybe some sort of thing where he sits down with marty and jules and verne and tells them why and how he built the time machine, and then we get a flashback to 1945 and he explains it all? yeah that would be neat

🧒favorite marty outfit?

i didn't know this was going to be such a hard question to answer, but honestly? classic 1985 orange vest fit. i own it and it's one of my comfort outfits. besides, it's just so...marty.

💫bttf related wips?

well, for one thing i have my 40s doc fic, then june of doom and occasionally a drawing here and there :)

i do sometimes feel the random urge to write another oneshot but i'm out of ideas because i'm focused on june of doom and life stuff, but there are things in my documents i forgot about and would love to pick back up (like the fic where doc goes to yell at strickland for belittling marty)!

thanks for the ask!

bttf ask game!

[romijuli]

Oh no you have enabled me. I have a whole fan company. (And TWO self-inserts, even. Something went wrong here.)

I don’t get to talk abt them a lot and tbh I’m still kinda trying to straighten out my lore for these clowns so. Ramble time under the cut I’m so sorry:

IOLITE COMPANY MY DARLINGS. they’re technically recycled but they’ve changed enough from their original variants to be separate characters. More detailed descriptions here if you’d like to learn about my clowns, but I’ll give the quick rundown of who they are what they do and what problems they have.

OH RIGHT. Iolite forms like right at the beginning of act 3, which explains the Godza-isms

Actors:

Bee Jubilee (they/them): co-founder, occasional director, and first actor of Iolite Company! An American transplant who came over as an English teacher but wound up running this full time. Volunteering as Izumi’s assistant at Mankai led to them reuniting with an old college friend and rekindling their love of acting! (Self insert the first, named after a three-years-old joke about me being a trenchcoat full of bees?)

Sayuri Fujioka (she/her): second actor in Iolite Company, and playwright to boot. So unbelievably tired. She’s a lot like Homare, in that she tends to say stuff that can come across as blunt or hurtful, though in her case it’s more that she doesn’t see the point in sugarcoating things.

Aiko Hoshino (she/they): third actor in Iolite and company props master! Very excitable, though she can be a bit of a theater know-it-all. Ex-Godza fan who fell in love with Mankai during the act-off and became Sakuya’s biggest fan (who isn’t Kasumi or a Sakuya yume) after seeing Alex. (Amabi student in jubansaku’s year! Or at least I think they are? It’s not in the doc…)

Eri Hanazawa (she/her): fourth actor in Iolite and the company’s costumer, though she’s still learning the ropes on making stuff from scratch instead of just altering existing clothes. Painfully shy (and only worsened by teachers drawing attention to it), which makes her desire to become an actor kind of surprising, but apparently seeing some talented street actors will do that.

Fuyuko Iida (he/she, genderfluid): fifth actor to join, but far from inexperienced! (He’s one of the street actors who inspired Eri, after all!) Tiny and full of fucking rage, partially in general and partially from being consistently typecast as cutesy roles during her time in more traditional theaters. He just wants to go apeshit!

Rei Morimoto (she/her): sixth actor to join, and formerly part of a street act duo with Fuyuko. Comes off as a princely bishoujo sort, but is actually a TOTAL dweeb who adores cute things. Please let her play more girly roles. Please.

Mizuki Arisato (she/her): seventh actor to join—the first of the “rookies” aka the batch that joined after they got permission to use an actual building—and resident hair/makeup artist. Has Sakuya’s “I need to be cheerful and happy all the time” complex, except Mizuki is just straight up depressed under that. (Yosei kid in taitenmasu’s year!)

Imo Amamiya (she/her): eighth actor to join, second “rookie”, and designated baby of the group (17 in y3, when she joins!) Quite a space case—she wandered into practice by accident lmao—and perpetually sleepy, with HORRIBLE taste in close friends. (St. Flora student in Kumon’s year!)

Goswin Jubilee (he/him): ninth actor to join, third “rookie”, and Bee’s younger brother. He’s a kniroun fanatic (and unfortunately a twitch streamer) who came to see a kniroun rerun, wound up sitting next to Aiko, and got DRAGGED to Iolite. (They’re besties now.) Had a bit of a funky relationship with Bee thanks to his childhood rage issues, but it’s getting better. Slowly.

Hibiki Yoisaki (she/her): final actor and last rookie recruited, but she’s been a pain in the ass since before Iolite even started! Her brother’s in Godza, and since she wanted to be an actor, too, he kinda passed along the mentality he learned there. She gets better, obviously. (Amabi student in taitenmasu’s year!)

Staff:

Nana Yoshizawa (she/her): co-founder of Iolite as well as its director! Pretty easygoing, unless you imply that backstage crew is somehow inferior to the acting side of theater or that theater techs are just actors who couldn’t make it. Quite possibly the most normal person here. Met Bee while studying abroad in America!

Touya Minase (he/him): co-founder of Iolite and company sound designer! He comes across as a shockingly normal big-brother sort…unless he’s a) looking for Weird Noises For Sound Stuff (I made this guy before I knew about Rento. I can’t believe it.) or b) using his Mankai connections to get pics from photo shoots to torment the rest of Iolite with.

Ryou Kousaka (he/they): backstage crew specializing in…everything! Whatever you need, he can do, even if it’s a quick role in a show! They’re a pretty excitable sort, almost like a second Taichi. He actually lives with Touya and doesn’t seem to have contact with his family, and will not elaborate as to why. (Yosei student in taitenmasu’s year!)

Chel Jubilee (they/them primarily): Bee and Goswin’s older cousin, the Original theater kid of the fam, and Iolite’s OTHER do-everything clown, though they won’t step into the spotlight themself. A college theater major who wound up dropping out and losing their love of theater entirely, but hopped over to Iolite to visit the fam and wound up sticking around. Showed up in the middle of act 12 like “hey where’s that other theater company you guys seem to like”. (Self insert the second, if you couldn’t tell.)

Others:

Makoto Yoisaki (he/him): Hibiki’s brother and one of the chiller Godza members, though he retains the competitiveness and a hint of jealousy towards Reni’s current faves. He cares. He really does. His sister’s just stubborn. (Amabi student in Kazu’s year! Save him.)

Mina [WHAT IS HER SURNAME] (she/her): former member of Masumi’s fanclub who DEEPLY regrets it. She was supposed to be a one-off character in a fic I’m working on but I love her so I’m figuring out where to put her. Sakuya in particular has Issues with this girl because of the Masumi Fanclub thing, even though she’s chilled out since hs. (Fuyou student in jubansaku’s year!)

Mankai March question 3!

We learned about everyone’s favorite character yesterday, now let’s learn about any characters you might have! Do you have any OCs or yumes for A3! ? Feel free to ramble about them!!

[shadeswift99]

Ok, going to get a little bit more serious here, but: If the Season 8 finale left a bad taste in your mouth, if the Moon Big plotline as a whole just didn't sit right with you, if you're really more in it for the stability and collaboration and you'd like your unmodded low-stakes minimal-plot Hermitcraft back...try this on for size.

Here is my genuine, evidence-based prediction: It's gonna be just fine.

Just hear me out. See, the thing is, I think season 8 was shorter for a reason. The Hermits tried a lot of new things this season: They lived on the same continent, they did a lot more collaboration, people who we'd never seen lore from before tried their hands at plot and people who were already plot madmen (*cough cough Ren and Doc*) amped it up even further - but I'm guessing that the thing that made a lot of that stuff possible and attractive as an option was the limited amount of time before the update. Also: the update being delayed pushed off a lot of their plans, and without that, we might have seen an extremely sparse and demotivated season without adding a little something extra to keep the players engaged. As it turned out, they ended up with a great sketchpad to test some things they wouldn't risk a normal season on trying out, or create a type of content that wouldn't usually be sustainable in the long term.

They had a great amount of fun doing that! I loved it! But my best guess is that - aside from explaining how they got from point A to point B - season 9 is going to be much more the unscripted vanilla shenanigans we've all come to know and love. And since the beginning of a season is one of my favourite times in any SMP, I, for one, am incredibly excited for it!

[house-of-laminations]

I love your from afar series soo much!

For requests, if you want. You can ignore this if you're not interested.

I'm curious about demon hunters, should they track mc and try to use them to summon the demon lords to kill them. Lore wise what you may think their roles are, if they're the only ones that notice all the things that happen around mc.

Or just some angst on how the brothers would react to them going after mc.

Anon this prompt is like my catnip because I need you to know this is now one part of many. I have 5000 words I wrote in one night just waiting in a google doc somewhere thanks to this. I’m using this part to establish a ‘baseline’ of sorts, provide a little lore/insight into the idea of ‘demon hunters’ and those who would seek to do MC harm in the human world, while also having a brief look into the reverse effects of 'From Afar' - what it means for the brothers to tie themselves so tightly around MC. I hope you enjoy! 💛

Solomon, After

After The Incident, Solomon takes the time to sit you down and properly explain the world you now walk in - the one that knows of Devildom, of hell and its demons, but doesn’t view it with the same love that you have come to know.

There are sorcerers. None like him, of course, but those who use innate magic to bend instances of reality to their will. They would be more interested in the services they could gain from pacts with powerful demons, than anything you could do yourself.

Witches borrow the magics of the earth, of demons, and of the divine to cast spells. The line, you learn, between what is ‘divine’ and what is ‘demonic’, is thin to the point of arbitrary.

Then there are the more organized groups - sects and factions dedicated to the eradication of corruption on Earth. Some are driven by a kind of moral righteousness. Some are driven by revenge. They have different names, or none at all. "Exorcists," he explains, "seek to remove, destroy. Hunters, meanwhile, enjoy the chase. They’ll try to capture or enslave, though there’s no telling what comes after that." There is no set of rules, no guidelines, no expectations you could make about what they would do to achieve their goals. The ends, no matter how small or inconsequential, will always justify the means. “It’s incredibly ironic,” muses Solomon, “They don’t realize the corruption they’re trying to scourge has infected their hearts so deeply. I deeply admire the brothers for that feat.” You think that last comment should make you uncomfortable. You shouldn’t feel the fondness, the pride welling in your heart.

Each of these groups (sorcerers, witches, exorcists, hunters) would have a vested interest in keeping you, controlling you, destroying you. Unfortunately, The Incident is only the first in a string of many. To be loved by beings greater than yourself is both a Blessing and a Curse. You hold reality between your fragile, mortal hands.

The Human World, Before

To assume that no one would notice, that no one would say anything, was in hindsight probably your pride talking. It starts with the flowers. Or, at least, you think it does. You’re not entirely sure.

There are all manner of mortal (and immortal) factions and organizations that seek to summon, capture, control, or destroy demons. These come from a variety of theological and theoretical backgrounds. Solomon has mentioned a few of these to you in passing, mostly to mock their incorrect assumptions and shoddy spellcasting. That isn’t to say that they’re all incompetent.

There’s a new regular at your favourite coffee shop on campus. After a few weeks of sharing the same late-night space, wordless caffeine top-ups, and panicked study sessions, you decide to strike up a conversation. Strangers aren’t so scary to you anymore - not after that Year.

He introduces himself as Jonathan. You quickly bond over the fact you’re taking the same Religious Studies class, complaining about your taskmaster lecturer. He compliments the small, budding flower you’ve tucked into the eye of your zipper, and there’s a curl of pride in your chest. You’re still getting used to the way people eye you with interest, as if you’re an object of desire. It’s somewhat refreshing that Jonathan doesn’t seem to do that. Maybe you’re not his type. “But you’re everyone’s type! I can’t imagine not wanting you, and I happen to be an expert influencer in these things,” whispers the memory of Asmo in your mind. You ignore it. Maybe you shouldn’t have.

You invite him back to your place to go over some notes. He agrees, though not too quickly to cause concern. He marvels at the flowers growing throughout the apartment, though you notice he keeps his distance, hard as that is with so many of them clinging to the decor. You turn your back to put away your coat, and - the cawing of a crow is the last thing you remember.

Devildom, During

Mammon

Mammon doesn't know what he's looking for. All he knows is he can't find it.

His room is trashed. Tables are upturned, trinkets, clothes, and treasures strewn around carelessly. It looks like someone robbed the place and someone did, someone took it, where is it, where IS IT-

When Belphegor enters his room without knocking Mammon immediately tackles him to the ground, fingers bleeding into claws, tearing at his brother's flesh. "WHERE IS IT?" he growls. Belphegor's form shifts into something less tangible, more wicked. Still, Mammon's claws scrabble to find purchase, to keep this stupid little intruder contained. It's not hard - Mammon's form engulfs the child entirely. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" cries Belphie. He tries to slip through Mammon's claws "YOU STOLE IT FROM ME! IT'S MINE!"

It's Beelzebub's turn to burst in without warning, drawn by Belphegor's own panic, and he's quickly retrained - immobilized - too. These runts are his but if they took his stuff, his treasure, then there will be hell to pay.

Eventually the noise attracts Lucifer, and he's able to get Mammon to release the twins. They don't leave the room though, watching the Avatar of Greed cautiously, worried. Mammon snaps and growls and tears at Lucifer, but none of it finds purchase, not even the selfishness, the greed that seeps from his heart, outwards. If Mammon was less concerned about what was taken from him, he'd be surprised that all Lucifer did was drop him and close the door, pulling the twins behind him. No punishment, no scolding. Just cold indifference.

Lucifer

Many people assume that the loss of pride is shame.

Lucifer knows this isn't true. To have shame at all, there must be something to take pride in. It's not something trite like humility either. No, if you're talking about a lack of pride, you're looking for Indifference.

He knows he should be more frustrated by Mammon's attack, especially against the youngest two who are the most vulnerable to his claws. Lucifer trained Mammon himself: he knows what he's capable of.

None of it matters.

Not when for all his confidence, all his experience, all that he is, it's not enough to measure up. Why bother proving himself, when it's suddenly all not enough. All that he is, and their gaze, their longing, can be oh so easily cut.

Unseen by him, one by one the lights in Devildom's sky go out. The stars hide their faces, from demons, angels and humans. In the human world, astronomers and astrologers for once actually share one same thought - a confusion about the new moon that is weeks too early. The sky goes dark on the opposite side of the planet, and the people living there marvel at the unexpected eclipse, ignoring the terror building beneath their smiles.

Lucifer shuts the door to his room, and not even the frantic messages from Diavolo break his haze.

Leviathan

His stomach is roiling, but not because of hunger or sickness.

It feels like when the last Ruri-chan dakimakura was taken from right under his nose, handed off to a smiling lesser demon. Even now, remembering the joy on that Little D's face makes his teeth ache. Or maybe it isn't the memory of that happy little bastard causing that maw to sharpen now, venom dripping from his tongue. Maybe it's something else.

He sinks into his tub, literally into it - between the cracks in the porcelain, through the hard stone floor, right down until his very being is pressed into the freezing rivers that flow beneath Devildom.

The House is too small, and here he can writhe as he wants - tail the size of a mountain range and teeth large enough to swallow the world. He curls around and around and around and yet it's not enough, whatever this feeling is. Why isn't it enough? Why isn't he satisfied?

He knows someone back at the House is calling out for him, he can hear it between his coils.

He's tempted to tighten his hold, to constrict. The devastation in Devildom would be endless. If I can't have it, no one can.

But what, if anything, is "it"? He's not Mammon - preferring quantity, with no discernment and just the need to possess it all. Rather, he covets what isn't in his grasp - even though his reach is endless. Something, someone, has slipped between his scales and out of his hold. It doesn't matter they were stolen. Leviathan's teeth ache and his stomach roils and poison drips into the earth.

Asmodeus

There's a pile of bodies in his room. Which.... is not unusual per se. Normally, though, they're a lot more alive.

It's been a long time since he's lost control like this. To take and take and take, to become everything for someone until there is nothing left outside of him. Sure, he likes being the centre of attention, the object of someone's desire. But he also likes a repeat performance, knowing he has someone on a hook he can drag and drag and drag.

Asmodeus sighs. "What a waste..." A wave of his hand reduces dead flesh to nothing, leaving behind only the usable parts. Blood flows into a vial for later use, while bones crush and remake themselves into fine ceramic adornments. He knows he should hope there wasn't anyone too important caught up in him this time, but he can't bring himself to care.

He thinks about slipping on that cute dress he bought the other day, but can't bring himself to cover his most desirable form. Not when he needs the attention, the desire. He needs their eyes on him, to become their everything- not when his edges are sharp and bleeding through, his eyes, many and soulless, peeking from between his claws and ribs, horns and tail and wings dripping with disgusting blackened desire - Asmodeus takes a deep breath. His flesh shifts and he can't force it back into shape.

No matter. He's still beautiful. They'll all watch him. He'll ensnare the entire world if it means recapturing the gaze of that one person who's been blinded to his influ- Wait. What?

Beelzebub

Beel glares at the apple. Its brilliant red skin shines back at him.

"What peed in your cereal to make you glare like that, Beel?" Levi asks, coming into the kitchen with an aura of gloom. It seems he's pulled himself back together. Beelzebub had tried to call out to him before, when he first noticed a rumbling that wasn't coming from his own stomach, but instead the foundations of Devildom itself. "I'm hungry," he grunts. Levi looks at him oddly. "Then eat something. Like that apple you're trying to kill with your mind."

Beelzebub can't think of a worse idea.

He's craving something, he knows he is. The problem is, the idea of eating, of food disgusts him. Everything looks like Solomon's cooking right now. He just needs that one thing and it'll go back to normal, the craving will go away. But he can't work out what it is.

Levi shrugs, pulling open the fridge. Without realizing, Beelzebub's hand shoots out, slamming the fridge door shut so forcefully that the entire thing rocks. Levi yelps, having only just pulled his hand out of the way just in time.

"It's not for you," Beel growls, the words forcing themselves through his throat without the consent of his heart or mind. His wings shift uneasily at his sides, aching to cut, to mark, to claim. Levi's eyes glow at being denied something he desires. Beelzebub knows deep in his being that this would be a fight he cannot win - not against the Envy that fuels the remnants left behind from his feasting. But he craves, and maybe it's food, maybe it's a fight. Its a taste on the tip of his tongue and he needs to consume.

Belphegor

"The number you are trying to call is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep."

Belphegor growls in frustration before hanging up. How dare they miss his call. He had scheduled this weeks in advance. He hasn't been able to sleep for hours, and it's their voice that he knows will fix it for him. The stupid human has him all keyed up, energy shooting through his skeleton in flashes and pulses at irregular intervals. Not enough to be productive, but too much to be able to sleep. All his pillows feel like bricks - even the attic bed doesn't bring the same comfort, the smell of them still sticking to the sheets.

It's so dark, too. Perfect for sleeping.

For lack of any other solution, Belphegor seeks out Lucifer. His eldest brother has many faults and flaws, but frustratingly enough, he's still the comfiest person - besides them - he's ever fallen asleep on. Maybe it's the knowledge that he's safe in the lap of one of the strongest forces in existence. Maybe its the familiarity, the echoes of a simpler, brighter time.

The person who greets him at his brother's door is not Lucifer. Well. It is, in the sense that it's Lucifer's body and Lucifer's presence but there's nothing behind his eyes. Lucifer's pride shows itself in his love for his brothers. This love in return fuels his pride. Its a cycle that cannot be broken, strengthening the eldest as his days continue to number. Or at least, that's what Belphegor thought.

Lucifer doesn't slam the door in his face, even after Belphegor makes a crude comment about his beloved Lord Diavolo. He kind of wished he would - anything for a semblance of normal. Instead, all he receives is a blank, dead stare, like he can't be bothered - oh shit.

Belphegor drags Lucifer over to the bed, easily maneuvering the eldest into a sitting position and that's just wrong he can even do that. But he knows, better than anyone, how pliant not giving a fuck can make you. It's his whole schtick. And Lucifer's effected by it. Belphegor hasn't gotten stronger, no. It's not even a case of Lucifer weakening. His unsettled wandering to the point of sleeplessness, Lucifer's indifference, they're symptoms of a much larger, much deeper illness.

Something has gone horribly wrong.

Satan

Satan is restless. This isn’t uncommon. Normally he would spend his energy plotting to take Lucifer down a peg, but that’s not enough, not now. He’s angry and doesn’t know why and that’s not unusual either but what is strange is that he’s angry at himself. He’s barely holding onto physical form, his edges bleeding into dark, dark shadows. There’s no beating in his chest, no breath drawn into his lungs.

They all notice. There’s no way they can’t. Not after Satan disappears and they find him at the centre of a wreckage that was once the lake gazebo. There are no cuts in his flesh from the splinters, because that would mean he has flesh to be cut.

“It hurts,” he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t scream. He doesn’t say it at all, and yet they all understand.

The brothers, all watching, are grateful for Satan’s lack of physicality. They know if the Avatar of Wrath had Its usual claws, they would be tearing into Its own being.

They are the embodiment of their namesakes, for better, or for worse. They have never been in a position before in which they are at the mercy of their own Sin. And yet… This is like a disease, turning the body on itself, and yet it goes deeper than that - to their very cores, their Beings.

By loving one mortal, one among many, they are now vulnerable. They infect the hearts and minds of mankind, corrupting and destroying. Sin is self-serving. To be used selflessly, for someone else, well. That’d break reality.

Satan is the first, or more likely the most obvious, to fall prey to the backlash of that break. For his Wrath to be directed so harshly inwards? There must be some pretty strong anger, retribution, focused at-

Satan's shifting, writhing form freezes. Hell breaks loose.

This is getting a tad long so I'm gonna end it here - but I'm so inspired now to write vengeful, direct divine intervention. Thanks so much for the prompt, anon!! Let me know what you think!! 💛

masterlist | all asks

[violexides]

The DreamSMP Explained (By Someone Who Has Never Watched Any DreamSMP Stream)

cracks knuckles. okay, fucking FINALLY doing this. ahem. 

Couple things to preface with, will keep this brief. 

This isn’t entirely blind. One of my best friends has helped out in places, just because I wanted to hit on everything (accurate or not), and I know mutuals/friends who post and write about DreamSMP (though how much of that is AU or canon-typical, I can’t say. I can’t tell). I’ve never seen a single stream, but I’ve seen a few clips. So, my understanding is a bit more than the title may imply, but still not a lot. Sorry.

Also, this will be very, very long (near 2k words). All under the cut, will TW this with themes of abuse, death, manipulation, unreality, hallucinations, and me having an abrasive sense of humor where I revel in the glee of calling these guys European twinks. Though, speaking of. This is ALL about the actual characters, not the people. I don’t know anything about most of these actual streamers, so, no hate to them. In fact, I think they’re pretty cool for having come up with a… somewhat coherent… narrative, all through using Minecraft as a medium. Anyway.

Sigh. Without further ado, 

So. There’s this place. Made by Philza, AKA God, AKA one of like six different gods. Philza, born from the womb acting like someone’s 43 year old uncle, has three kids. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo. There are other people here, with some scattered ancestry that raises some questions, but I don’t really care who fucked an Enderman and had an 8’0 tall kid (Ranboo DNI).

There are also places! Sometimes! On a good day, there are actual, intact locations. We’ve got hits like “The Badlands”, which I think was taken from about three different dystopian novels I read in third grade, “El Rapids” (Quackity, Subpoena (autocorrect wins this round), and Karl made this one), “Pogtopia”, no comment on this one, and “L’Manberg”, which Wilbur made. 

Only one of these is going to be important.

So, might be a good time to say this: I don’t know what the inciting incident of DreamSMP is? I don’t know what was the catalyst for all this shit, but I’m going to take a guess and say Wilbur blowing up L’Manberg had something to do with it.

… That’s going to be a pattern, by the way. Just. Stick with me here. 

So, Wilbur is an older child who read the Hamlet parts in literature class and can only cope by ripping down the very creations he has and taking the entire world down with him to hell. Which is to say, he throws a pity party after Jschlatt (some bitch who abused Quackity, that’s another trend, yippee) wins an election and decides to blow up the fucking kingdom and kill Jschlatt.

Little does Wilbur know, the devil may work fast, but Jschlatt getting a fucking stroke and dying out of nowhere works faster. 

I’m not kidding. He gets a stroke, he dies, and Tubbo takes over. I’ve tried to puzzle out the government structure of DreamSMP for a while and have drawn zero conclusions. In any case, Wilbur also tells Philza, his… father…, to kill him. And Philza fucking does? For some reason, like, holy shit.

Anyway. Wilbur is now a ghost. So is Jschlatt. The… life system, on this server, is really strange and I don’t know how to fully explain it. Just know that nothing has permanence here. 

I’m going to throw this out here because I don’t know when it’s relevant, but I wrote down something about Karl being in a place called the In Between. I don’t know how the hell he got there or what the hell he’s doing. This might be where the discs are? I can’t explain the discs. I… think they are fighting over the discs? Don’t know why, Wilbur makes music himself, I feel like you have enough to go around.

(Stream Saline Solution it reminds me of my best friend only if you want okay thx)

L’Manberg gets blown up again. This time, Techno did it. He did it just after giving this speech about Theseus, which, jokes aside-- the writing of DreamSMP is actually really good. That was all done on improv, and I did watch an animatic with some of the audio from it, and damn. I’m a whore for metaphor and I love this for him.

This happens, and Ranboo and Tommy decide to do a little hehe and burn down George’s house. Who is George? Good question: a king. Of what? Good question: call me the antithesis of a Ranboo kinnie and get me some discs because I hear no answers.

Dream gets pissed off by this (who gave him authority, I don’t know) and builds a wall. He for some reason decides that if Tommy, and only Tommy, breaks some rules, the wall will stay up forever. So, naturally, Tommy immediately yells at him, and Tubbo gets pissed (what happened to the whole, who are you without me, yourself, thing?). Dream exiles him, which is bad enough, but then Dream burns down his house, so now he’s double exiled.

Dream kins Julius Caesar but Julius Caesar does not kin Dream and I think that’s important. 

(It had to be important enough for me to literally go back and edit this in, for no reason, because I think I’m really fucking hilarious.) 

Techno takes in Tommy and shows him his super secret cave of evil, which Tommy promptly screams at. Philza and Ranboo visit sometimes, but mostly Tommy just sits there. Dream says “fuck you” to Techno, but Techno decides to wage war on L’Manberg, so Quackity and co. come over to try and kill Techno, but Techno kills Quackity with a pickaxe, but Quackity has three lives for some reason, and then Dream blames Ranboo for blowing something up for literally zero reason, and can you tell how tired I am.

Ranboo sees a smiley face in his notebook and zones the fuck out while Dream tries to kill… Tommy? No, Tubbo. No, fuck, no it was Tommy. I don’t know why people suddenly care about it n- NO, NO IT WAS TUBBO, he is TRYING to kill TUBBO. 

I hate Europeans. 

Ahem. Dream goes to jail, but he has books in jail, which is a horrible idea. Everyone knows that if you give a war criminal some novels he’ll accidentally haunt someone else’s dreams and launch psychological warfare with the prison guard, Sam, who has zero idea what he’s doing because he probably didn’t sign up for this.

Also, I’m gonna say this here because I don’t know when it will fit in. There’s this place. Called… the Egg. Now, I don’t know what goes on in the Egg. I don’t know what the Egg is. I don’t know who decided to name all these fucking things, because I think the Egg is just a box made of bedrock. I think Ranboo hallucinates about it, but Ranboo hallucinates about everything so I’m not really sure. I’m going to call it here and say that this is probably a bad sign.

People are trying to talk to Dream. First BadBoyHalo, who gives Ranboo this little note from Dream with a smiley face. Or maybe that was SapNap. Either way, Ranboo hallucinates seeing Dream, and then actually sees Dream but he thinks he’s hallucinating? I don’t know. 

Then we get Tommy. Basically he kind of comes in here and Sam, being a good prison guard, allows Dream to beat Tommy to death and then revive him (don’t ask about the revivals just pretend it makes sense please). He tells Tommy he’s also going to revive Wilbur which Tommy isn’t a big fan of, considering that Wilbur, uh. Vague hand gestures. You get the schtick. Hopefully. I don’t know.

Anyway. Uh. Quackity loses his shit, also.

As in he talks to Jschlatt, the ghost of his abusive husband. Makes a deal-- if Quackity here loses, he revives Jschlatt. I don’t know what the winning conditions are, but, thankfully, they don’t matter because Quackity loses damn near instantly. 

So he goes to Dream and Sam gives him really powerful gear for no reason. Dream is a bit terrified by this situation, and Quackity is like “give me the fucking book”, and then we never find out what happens because Quackity ends up covered in blood about to blow up El Rapids. I hadn’t expected to mark Quackity off on the demolitionist bingo, but hey, all’s fair I guess. My next bets are on Tubbo or whichever bitch became god of the sea. 

(I also made a joke to my friend about me kinning Quackity (the character not the streamer could you fucking imagine), to which they said “you’d torture someone for information”? So. I guess Dream, uh. Hm. That explains why Quackity was bloodied. Uh. Oops. Don’t know why he’s playing Poker, though.)

So, for my sanity, as we come to a close, I’m going to start listing lore details that I don’t know nearly enough about but are probably important. Just… bullet point them. Might be a bit tacky of me but I have shit to do, dammit. By that I mean, I don’t have shit to do, but I’ve had this doc open for literally 1-2 weeks and I just want to be freed.

List Of Other Shit That Happened:

Ranboo started an arg, so there’s a character named Z now. Can’t believe the kid I knew in middle school who didn’t know where the Middle East  was made it into the dreamSMP omg! 

Tubbo did something immoral, and we still don’t know who his dad is. By we, I mean me. 

Eret exists. That’s all I’ve got for this one. They’re important. Probably.

Karl hallucinated six versions of himself and left the In Between to go to hell. (Lil Nas X girlboss gaslight gatekeep in this motherfucker!!!)

Ranboo and Tubbo got married because taxes exist </3

More on this last point: they opened a hotel, despite Tubbo being a king, and Tommy got mad at them for getting engaged without his permission. But Tommy was literally dead when they had the wedding so I’m not exactly sure what he was expecting. Either way, he’s fine with it now.

Kids getting adopted oh shit oh fuck. Also, mpreg is canotical. Make this what you will. 

DreamXD is a god now. I don’t know who DreamXD is. I don’t think anybody else does either.

I’m like 60% sure George is dead. 

I’m like 60% sure Philza is immortal.

Going through my ‘notes’ to make sure I didn’t miss anything and I’m just getting more confused, so I think I’m going to call it here. Props to everyone in the dreamSMP for creating kickass lore, I would not summarize any of it ever again if you held me at fucking gunpoint, and thanks to my mutuals/friends for letting me ask a lot of really stupid questions as I try to puzzle this out. And also, another thanks to you all for reading this. I hope to God this was funny. 

I really, really, really fucking hope that Tumblr doesn’t cut this off for a long character count. This is longer than some of my fucking oneshots. My God. This was so fun, don’t get me wrong, but I also want a hit of a candy cigarette. Make it two, actually. Or three. All at once. 

Anyway. Drink some water, stay safe, and remember that statistically speaking, 100% of people with a name starting with “T” need to put down the Greek mythology books and learn about the ethics behind pyromania. Goodbye, Theseus. 

[ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing]

Outline # -1 Abandoned Lore (Trinity)

@fanfics-and-fangirling

I have learned my lesson, I will be writing these on Google docs and then copy-pasting onto Tumblr. While I am on GD, I figured I might as well open the docs I used to write the actual fic. Man, I went through a ton of hoops to get where I am. I will be using the most coherent ones for reference. 

I can literally track my thought process as I went through writing all the different versions and I still have no idea how tf I went from this to dropping a flaming papermache whale on Ra’s Al Ghul. And I will die mad about it. Which means more meticulous notes in the future I guess.

Also, I’d like to apologize for how long it took to get this out, I have no sense of time whatsoever and as always, there’s a lot more than expected. This was 7 pages long

Original Ramble Post 

Like most of my stories, the MC is an OCI - reincarnator brought into a fictional world they once watched. (Because I am obsessed with that trope.)

I now find the original name I had for her cringy and out-of-place given these are norse gods. So, from now on her name is Lokka, which is the female version of Loki

There’s a whole ass backstory about the transition of godly names and power I won’t go into. Just think Thor and female Thor kind of thing I guess. She’s basically seen as a spare Loki but it’s also a respected position.

Was tempted to name her Sigyn since Marvel doesn’t care about actual norse myth relations. No, Idc that there’s a canon Sigyn.

If you’re curious, the original name was Aradia. Yes, like the queen of witches.

MC is an asgardian, the daughter of the librarian in the royal palace and a blacksmith

She managed to get an apprenticeship under Loki and is occasionally taught by Frigga. She also learns under Eir when both her royal teachers are busy.

Lokka found her way into the central plane, probably having found it’s location from Loki’s notes and is unaware that it’s unstable.

So, Lokka is in the central plane, having the time of her life exploring new lands when she stumbles across a crying Marinette who is very lost 

Unlike Lokka, Marinette does not know where she is or what is going on. She literally just tripped into a portal and has no way home.

Lokka takes Marinette under her wing and promises to help her find a way home

Problem is, she doesn’t know which of the three universes Marinette is from.

Even if/when she finds out that the girl is from MLB-verse, she still wouldn’t know which one that is because she has no reference to which world is which. Only that Marinette is probably not from Asgard.

At this point, she is unaware she lived in Marvel, she just knows Asgard is Norse Mythology.

So they continue to wander the central plane, Marinette ends up picking up a card guardian for a pet, accidentally becoming a cardcaptor. 

Marinette has trouble pronouncing Lokka and Lokka gives Mari permission to call her Cosette (pre-reincarnation name)

Meanwhile, Ra’s sends Damian and Talia into the Central plane for combat experience and resource gathering.

Ra’s might be 700 years old, he might have access to the Central plane but he sure doesn’t know about magic or how it came to be or the current state of it. He might know something’s off because all the inhabitants have been increasingly on edge and the weather’s been stranger than usual but he didn’t deemed it important

Notably, he has never seen anyone other than those who he’d sent in himself in the central planes (CP, from now on bc I am getting tired of typing the entire thing out) so as far as he knows, the CP’s only entrance point is under his control.

Talia and Damian, who’s still going by Hafid, go hunting for resources and training

They separate for a bit for individual hunting/training time

Marinette and Cosette (Lokka) stumble across Damian’s camp

Misunderstandings occur, Damian fights them, more accurately he fights Cosette

Cosette tries to protect Marinette while also making sure not to harm her opponent

It was harder than she expected considering her opponent was a child

Asgardian training pulls through and she is able to do both

Damian’s tied up, Marinette is confused, and Cosette does not want to deal with this

Negotiation time

Marinette can’t speak Arabic, Damian doesn’t know french, and Cosette has all-speak

This means Cosette’s sitting there, having to repeat everything the kids say to each other for translation’s sake

also misunderstandings before the kids realize allspeak is a thing

Cosette is stuck with two kids who don’t like each other, one of which barely puts up with her so she does what most adults do when kids are too troublesome

Distract them: she does magic tricks with actual magic

Damian+Marinette are fascinated, Cosette accidentally gains two magic students 

even though she’s still learning herself and all she has for guidance right now are Loki’s and Frigga’s notes

So, the trio end up travelling together

Damian demands Marinette should at least be able to fight so they train her too

They also figure out that Marinette and Damian’s worlds are not the same.

Cosette drills some value of life, basic morals, and feminism into Damian’s head

Marinette and Damian (Hafid) have trouble pronouncing each other’s names

They chose nicknames for each other from Cosette’s bedtime stories

Marinette is obviously angel or Tenko

Damian is gets Kabane, the name of a half demon

Kabane later changes to Kasane, protective blade

Yes, Cosette was/is a weeb and yes, they still mispronounce names which defeats the whole purpose but at least they kids don’t notice now even if Cosette is cringing every time they

They run into another card guardian and this one goes to Damian.

Cosette does not pout about this, it would be very immature

One training montages, several fights, a couple language lessons, and an abandoned (and Cosette-raided) house later, Cosette gets to the part of Loki’s notes where she figures out that the CP is collapsing in on itself and uh-oh

She tells the kids the gist of it but they’re too smart, ask all the right questions, and end up figuring out the important parts of situation that she’s trying to keep from them

Cosette is both impressed and a little put out, mostly impressed because not only did they figure out extremely complex magic, they also mostly remained level headed.

Marinette wants to rescue the card guardians and for once Damian is backing her up so Coestte gives up the notion of returning home and they go collect the guardians.

Remember, DC and MLB universes are closing in on each other 

MCU is drifting away

If they don’t collect the guardians, Cosette would have the time to just drop them off at their world collection points and head back to hers

After collecting a couple guardians, they end up finding Talia and explain the situation to her.

Talia joins the gang, she may or may not be plotting a marriage

They raid a couple more houses, collect the 54 card guardians, and complete the power transfer ritual (replacing the Yue’s trial because the cards are the guardians)

The cards end up latching onto the three kids. 

Marinette gets the Mistress title, Damian gets Sun Guardian, and Cosette gets Moon guardian.

Originally Cosette was going to be the mistress and Marinette the Moon guardian but because of the way I’ve decided magic works in this world - explaining that will need a whole other post - if Marinette is the moon guardian and gets the Ladybug miraculous, she will - for lack of better word - get sick and possibly die... or not.

Y’know what, it made sense at the time. But now that I think about it, we’re going back to the original idea.

Cosette’s the Card Mistress, Marinette’s the Moon guardian and Damian’s the Sun guardian.

Spoiler alert: that is a plot point for tropes-verse.

The completion of the ritual breaks puts CP deteriorations in high acceleration

Damian and Talia get into their circle, Cosette and Marinette in the other

Damian doesn’t have any cards bc he doesn’t want his grandfather trying to get to them. He and Talia agreed Ra’s would only know about the CP’s destruction. He does, however, have a CP beast that they picked up.

CP beast: magical creature that was born of CP’s magical residue or smth

Damian’s looks like a Teddiursa (Teddy bear pokemon) it is not

They have a notebook from a raided house detailing CP’s deterioration for proof

Cosette goes with Marinette because she can’t make it back to her universe and in the event that Marinette’s also from Cosette’s universe, she won’t be alone

They separate with the promise of meeting again.

At this point, I have had several differing ideas

They all go into DC world because they aren’t sure of Marinette’s world

Child trio goes into MLB world and Talia tells Ra’s Damian died

Everyone goes into MLB and Ra’s finds out about the collapse when he tries going in himself and finds out he can’t and just assumes they died

Y’all, I’m starting to see why I can’t do one-shots…

One of the things I forgot to mention in the rambling post is that while Marvel-verse was pulling away, it also messed with the time regulation thing, a day in the Maribat-verse will

Time in CP was very messed up

Kind of assumed readers could piece it together but I figured might as well make it obvious and straight up say it

MLBU: Cosette and Marinette arrive safely 

Marinette is delivered home and Cosette has to figure something out

They find out Marinette has only been gone for a week

Marinette has some separation anxiety for about three days

Cosette slowly realizing this is an MLB universe and having a crisis

Cosette gets adopted by the Dupain-Chengs and starts working at the bakery

I have not figured out ages for Cosette

MLB goes like most Maribat fics pre-gotham because I’m lazy

Will likely be adjusted if I ever actually write this fic

Except Cosette steps in when things got too far and Paris has 3 heroes

Cosette is the known as the Sorciere or Lokka

Her uniform is just her asgardian armor

Good but misguided Adrien, Cosette probably adopts him too

Love square goes platonic and Cosette is glad this rom-com is over

Magic tutoring continues

Cosette is neutral with Fu and fascinated by the miraculous

You remember those ghost interactions? Those are filtering in

One of the first things to merge is the internet, because it doesn’t have a physical body and it’s just waves of information

News and discoveries between the world are being swapped

Given what I remember from DC and dimension travel, it wouldn’t be surprising if they figured out universes were merging.

The news about JL and Paris’s situation are causing all kinds of confusion

Cosette beings looking for information on Damian

As the physical world begins merging, there’s pockets of space where you can slip from one world into another; not quite portals but close

Eventually the trip to NY became a trip to Gotham because their plane slipped between planes (sorry, I saw the chance and I had to take it.) but yeah, that happened.

There’s quite a few details I’m forgetting

DCU: Damian and Talia arrive ok and report bare basics to Ra’s

It has also only been a week

Ra’s is displeased to find them back until they report the state of the CP

There’s the whole coup not long after and Damian is sent to Bruce

Damian is much more innocent looking when he’s bringing what appears to be a teddy bear with him

It’s name is Abd and it has grown wings by now. Actual name pending.

He gets teased about it, but under Cosette’s teachings, he has learned the virtue of patience, underestimation, and getting revenge with a side of entertainment

He does not try to kill Tim either

He also has to make the choice of bringing Abd with him as Damian or as Robin

He choses to make a side company for WE making toys based off creatures from the CP so Abd wouldn’t look too out of place

It takes two weeks for the bats to realize there’s something off about the Abd

They are convinced it’s haunted and Damian is very entertained

Abd only moves in daytime when no one - Damian excluded - can see it

Movement can expel magic that interferes with recording tech

Alfred is the first to figure it out and surprise, surprise, he has some magic books for Damian to learn from

It’s from the Wayne family library and they just assumed the language was lost to time. At least three are from Alfred’s own family.

Bat brothers spend the next 6 months trying to convince Damian his magical pet bear is a haunted doll.

Damian sort of getting along with Poison Ivy because his Sun magic is very compatible with plants and they love him

On an unrelated note, the plants seem to refuse to attack the new Robin

Damian randomly, unconsciously humming to songs Cosette and Marinette sang

Damian just vibing with the magic users of JL and Teen Titans

No one took him seriously at first but he pointed something out during a conference

“Robin, stand down and let the magic users handle this” - Green Lantern, probably

Constantine who actually knows what he’s talking about “No, no, let the boy talk.”

The plan was twice as efficient after Damian was through with it

Now Constantine’s trying to adopt Damian as an apprentice, he’s failing bc the bats are protective and possessive of what is theirs

Reminder that Damian brings Abd with him everywhere and he’s still getting teased about it from anyone who is not a bat (still convinced the thing is haunted)

The only thing the magic users have picked up about Abd is that he’s a magical construct which could mean a number of things but they brush it off as just a doll.

No one is prepared for the thing to come to life, multiply in size, and start spitting ice, sleep sand, and illusions. (Hiccups bubbles and can also turn into a cloud.)

They are also not prepared for the thing to quadruple in size and for Damian to ride it like a horse into battle. Reminder that Abd has wings and can fly.

Confusing talk about what’s going on in Paris and some other parts of the world

JL slowly figure out the universal merger that Damian already knows about

Damian is not impressed, it took him and Angel about 2 hours as 9 year olds

Somehow, Damian still has the ice prince image, less demon spawn though, that goes to Abd

Time moves on and one day, a plane from the other world arrives in Gotham

There’s a bit of confusion but it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened at this point

WE steps up and offers jobs and a tour and all the usual Maribat plans (not just for the kids but all the other people on the plane)

Given the merger of the internet, MLB class and crew have some idea who the Waynes are and they accept. 

Estimated about 6 months for full merger so people from MLB world are kinda just stuck there until then

Lila literally cannot lie about knowing the Waynes personally but she sure can lie about other things.

Dick and Damian are sent in to monitor the group

The reunion is awkward given they can’t freely interact and are not supposed to know each other. 

While Dick is talking, there are just wide eyed staring between Marinette, Damian, and Cosette. With something a little extra between Marinette and Damian.

Cosette is torn between laughing and groaning at another rom-com trope coming in fast.

She ends up filming it bc blackmail is always good to have

Adrien is confused and quite frankly, he’s really just there to cover for them

The tour begins and about five minutes in, the trio breaks off and exchanges stories and names.

Cosette hears about Batman and has a dawning realization of what this world is, mentally nopes out, later digests that they are going into Maribat verse

Starts checking off Maribat tropes they’re coming across bc she might as well have fun with it

They continue to meet up

Batfam thinking Damian somehow managed to get two girlfriends

Damian choking on his breakfast when it is brought up

The girls are invited to dinner and Damian is just dying inside

Cosette blatantly hitting on all Damian’s brothers in the first 5 minutes

Damian screaming internally while Cosette cackles

Dick is awkward until he realizes it’s a joke, Jason plays along, Tim has an awkward bean crisis

Tim x Cosette? Maybe.

Cosette does that sit and repeat thing at least three times out of habit

Batfam gets full explanation about how they met and everything

I have played with the idea of Cosette getting fear gassed a couple times and Idk how it would go tbh.

That’s as far as I got with this version, so shenanigans ensue

Pretty sure they used the cards and magic throughout even if I didn’t mention it

Absolutely would be useful for being in two places at once

I later changed so the merger happens and then Paris’s heroes meet the Justice League

Damian immediately recognizing Cosette but not Marinette bc magic

still effective but weaker because of Damian’s magic type

He later recognizes Marinette later when she pulls off a move he taught her way back in CP

Nickname confusion for everyone else

Cosette vs Constantine on who gets to teach Damian magic

Damian goes to Paris. They beat Hawkmoth and then go to Gotham.

Also had a general idea of a plot with LoS that never got fleshed out past existing

If we’re going for the rebound version: Cosette reunites with Thor and Loki during the Avengers movie

Also, poor Heimdallr. He probably had a lot of headaches with the universe crash

Accelerated merger because of the convergence in the dark world.

I wanna go with 2012 Avengers towers shenanigans. + Loki and his sort-of but not really daughter

Cosette vs Antman, shrinking/growing, science vs magic.

And then there’s the whole Ironman vs Batman vs Arrow rich boy fight

Hammer x Luthor or Hammer vs Luthor?

Also, Cosette just staring at her home universe in betrayal and being insulted she didn’t think of it earlier because classic Nordic myths had Loki as Odin’s brother and not his son among other things but still

Fight against Thanos is a bit anti-climatic when you give a gremlin murder child magic and a sword that can through anything, including magical artifacts.

this baby boy can and will fight God and Cosette’s not really the kind to hold him back

If I actually wrote this, a lot of things would probably change because I’d actually have to put more thought into logistics and how things work

[ruckystarnes]

Characters (Main): Bucky Barnes & Child!Natasha Romanoff

Rating: Bordering Teen and Mature

Warnings: experimenting, possession, demons, de-aging, occult, torment, hunting/stalking 

Words: 1,916

Square Filled/Daily Prompt/Prompt: C5: It’s not your fault

Written for/Dedicated to: @buckybarnesbingo

Summary: HYDRA experimented on Natasha, unleashing an unholy demon onto the world. Anyone who tries to stop her...it...ends up dead, because once you lay eyes on the demon, you enter in a game of tag with only one outcome. With the dwindling members of the Avengers, they devise a trap to exorcise the demon with Bucky volunteering to be the bait.

A/N: This is based on the Nightcore song Hide and Seek sung by Lizz Robinett. Since it’s Halloween season, I wanted to do something a bit horrorish with no happy ending. I will advise the song and this story are a bit unsettling. Please heed the warnings.

The sound of the doorbell made Bucky jump, sweat beading on his forehead and temples. He swallowed hard as a shaky hand turned the phone to look at the video feed, showing a little girl standing outside the front door with vivid green eyes and red hair pulled out of her face, secured with a black bow. Her light red dress, puffed out by the black petticoat, seemed almost inanimate considering it was storming outside.

“Buuuucky,” she called out in a singsong voice with a malicious smile. “Open the door. I hate waiting.” Her knuckles rapped out “Shave and a haircut” on the wooden door, innocently bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Bucky’s stomach clenched, watching the sinister looking girl he used to know as Natasha. Somehow, the woman he loved was now nine, looking like some possessed lolita murderess.

“You can’t run, Bucky,” she taunted innocently, disappearing from the camera view. “I seeee yooouuu.”

His blue eyes snapped to the window beside him to see her standing close the glass, her breath fogging the window slightly. She gave him a childlike smile that made his blood turn cold, lifeless eyes that held a hellish amusement. Once their eyes locked he could feel a pull, her lips curling upwards in a wicked grin. The look reminded him of what he had seen on the tapes.

~*~ Two Weeks Earlier ~*~

A horrific scream ripped through the silent compound, stopping Steve and Bucky in their tracks. They shared a look, worry written over both faces.

“Cap,” Clint’s voice cracked over the coms, “found Nat. You won’t believe what HYDRA planned to do to her.”

Dread washed through Bucky knowing full well that HYDRA was capable of anything when it came to experimenting and torture. He listened to Clint explain something about a lore with something called Xuos, reverse aging, and hide and seek. Nothing was define nor coherent with what Clint was reciting, the notes incomplete. Just the way HYDRA like: to keep prying eyes guessing.

“The lore and game sounds like a ruse,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flitting through the dark room as he tried to figure out where that horrible scream came from. It didn’t sound like Natasha, but if they’re doing something to her, she might not sound like herself.

“Guys, there’s a kid here,” Sam’s voice cracked through, the coms increasing with interference. But before anyone of the guys could caution Sam, they heard a guttural scream that was cut short, followed by a childlike giggle.

“Sam,” Steve called through the coms with only silence as an answer. He repeated his name and Bucky could see fear in his friend’s eyes and the slight desperation in the way he said Sam’s name.

“I’m almost there,” Clint pants and they could hear running somewhere in the building making Steve and Bucky turn in the direction. “Jesus Chr---”

“Barton?”

Steve looked at Bucky, almost all color gone from his face as they made their way down the dark corridor only to stop outside of two swinging doors with a dim light shining underneath. They both listened, unable to hear anything coming from the room. Steve moved to peek into the cloudy window and Bucky heard his friend gasp. 

“Buck, we need to get back to the compound,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the window.

“What is it?” A part of Bucky didn’t want to know.

“We...we need to go now.”

“But the others. Steve we don’t le---”

“Now!” Steve seethed turning towards the brunet and pushed him as he whispered ‘run’.

~*~

“Buuuuuucky!”

The thing that wore Natasha's younger self was still smiling but it was now tight. It folded her tiny fists to pound on the double paned glass.

"You can't win, Bucky," it called, its voice still light and melodic. "What makes you think you can when everyone else lost?"

Bucky shuddered slightly, remembering all the broken and gored bodies that this girlish Natasha left behind. First it was Sam, then Clint. And when he and Steve ran, she...it followed. He remembered the last two weeks being filled with fear and blood. So much blood.  Barely anyone on their team was still alive. She got Steve within a day, ripping his throat out with a calm coldness that was unsettling. Scott and Hope were the ones that made Bucky sick the most. The demon stepping on both when they shrunk before forcing their bodies to morph back into their normal size, revealing the grotesque aftermath: necks snapped, arms and legs bent at odd angles, backs crushed.

Strange was the one that was helpful in figuring out what had happened to Natasha. And the thing that was controlling Natasha? It was from another dimension, a soul eating demon of sorts that likes to stalk its prey using the body of children. Xuos. Strange expected Mordo was the one to assist HYDRA in learning of this abomination, known as Xuos, inhabited a plane that was unreachable unless a sorcerer was able to unlock the three gates.

~*~ Last Week ~*~

“Are we really safe in numbers?” Tony asked with a sense of dread mixed with anger. “I feel like we are sitting ducks here, Doc. I’ve already had to watch on a camera feed of that...that...that thing, being a smaller version of Natasha, kill Happy and Rhodey.”

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony, knowing how hard that must have been. He witnessed the little terror take out Steve easily even though he fought as hard as he could. He looked around the room and the faces that were there all have seen the carnage this thing could unleash.

“The only way we can get rid of it is to send it back to where it belonged,” Strange answered evenly, but Bucky knew his patience was thin while he tried to keep the fear out of his mind. 

All of them were scared.

They have lost half their team, most of their strongest hitters. Thor, Bruce, T’Challa... It made Bucky sick as he lost himself in the horror, so when Wanda touched his shoulder he jumped, metal fist pulled back.

“It’s alright James,” she whispered, her hand squeezing his shoulder as her other covered the metal limb to lower it down.

“The notes said something about a relic, or emblem,” Carol added, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “Bucky was able to translate most of the notes. They had to use something to bind it here. What if we destroyed that? Could it weaken it?”

Strange’s brows furrowed as he looked over the transcribed notes that Bucky worked on shortly after retrieving them from the warehouse a few days after they lost Sam and Clint. “It might, but we won’t get Natasha back. That’s something Xuos done himself and they are now one. Removing him will kill her.”

“What about killing her?” Tony rushed, “I mean, we know that she can take a wallop, but she can’t be invincible.”

“She’s already dead,” Bucky grumbled, “Have you not looked at her? She’s dead. They are just using her as a vessel. Dead things can’t be killed twice. What we do know is that you lock eyes with her, you’re next. She comments on finding the poppet and Strange said before the thing hates fire. What if…”

“No James,” Wanda interjected, her hand gripping his shoulder harshly, “you are not going…”

“My closest friends are gone Wanda. Most of our team is gone. We NEED to stop her...this thing. Besides Carol, I’m the only other one that could possibly stay ahead just enough for Strange to get this Xuos back to where it belongs.”

“It’s suicide, Barnes,” Tony sighed.

“Got a better idea?”

Carol fixed Bucky with a hard glare before resigning, nodding her head.

“Besides, if we never got separated in Munich---”

“What’s happening right now, Barnes...it’s not your fault.” Tony’s words struck Bucky. Stark was a man who held a grudge and he had against Bucky in the past. 

“Even if that’s true, I feel responsible.” 

~*~

“You know I hid the poppet when I arrived,” the little girl called out. Bucky could hear a knob jiggle somewhere in the abandoned house. He hoped the others arrived soon, as there wasn’t much to keep this little girl, who wore his ex-lover’s face, from getting to him.

Bullets only seemed to piss it off and Bucky wasn’t about to engage in a knife fight with the thing.

“Bucky, why don’t you wanna play with me? I thought you loved me?” The lithe voice was taunting him, reminding him of Natasha and it brought bile to his throat. He heard a snap followed by a creek. The demon managed to break through the wards on the house. 

“Your sorcerer isn’t any stronger than the one who brought me here,” she called out, “he was a delicious appetizer with the other men that were there. Though I would have to say that I rather enjoyed your friend, Steve, the most. His memories...how you were the last thing on his mind when I finished him. You know that’s how I find my next one. From their memories. Grievances make people weak. I can taste yours Bucky. You lost your friends, your ex-lover, and your current. You can blame Wanda for sending me to you. Steve and Wanda cared about you as much as Natasha did. Like how you had nightmares about all your victims, you like cinnamon dolce lattes, and you’re scared of the dark and storms.”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to give away his spot in the small bedroom upstairs. This thing...it knew things only the people he cared about knew. He kept his weight on the support beams under the floor, moving only if he had to. What Nat-no, Xuos, didn’t know was that they had found this thing’s doll and Tony was retrieving it while Carol observed the terror he was experiencing. 

“Buuuuucky!”

God, he was starting to hate his name, and he vowed to go by Jamie after this was done...if he survived, that is. 

“You think I can’t hear you above me? Your heartbeat is giving you away, Bucky.” 

He twisted his wrist to pull up the holo to see where people were at. Tony was close and Carol made her way down from the ozone. Sure he reassured his friends that he was fine with being the bait. As long as they were able to send this demon back before he, she, it could kill anyone else.

Light footsteps made their way up the stairs and Bucky had to calm his heart, but it failed when Carol’s voice broke through the silent coms.

“Barnes, you need to get out of there.”

He shook his head. The others were two minutes out. He had to hold out for that long at least.

“Barnes, she’s right outside your door. You need to get out of there. Now.”

“I got this Air Force,” he grunted, turning his com off as he readied himself for the small redhead to come in.

“Bucky, I found you,” she sang as the doorknob turned. He could hear Tony’s jets as the room lit with the bright blue-white of his arc beams.

“Time to pay the consequence,” the demon possessed Natasha sang, the door opening to reveal the sinister smile on his ex-girlfriend’s childlike face, framed by deep red curls. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, “as long as I am the last one.”

[cobwebsaint]

BLEASE DO THE SPIT FIC

AHHHH YES alright obligatory NSFW warning and link to the original if anybody is compelled to leave some sweet kudos or a comment or anything. The garbage stays under the cut for the sake of your eyeballs and your dash.

[Before we even get into the meat of this mf let it be known I was BULLIED into participating in the Slipknot body fluids garbage trend and I still hate it but god was it all downhill from there. Y’all know who you are. Bitch.]

Corey really did have a hard fucking time shutting up, and it almost always got him in some level of shit. After getting the shit kicked out of him at bars and parties and shows approximately three trillion times, you would have thought he’d learned his lesson. 

He did not. 

[I have never spoken a word that was not true. The Corey Taylor gremlin is just an obnoxious big mouthed creecher. He cannot help thise.]

The man had no off button. He knew it, everybody else knew it— it was just something they all had to live with. Jim especially. Jim signed on for this bullshit every single day.

That was his own fault.

[Ah yes, the birthplace of what is now known as the domestic nightmares AU. I promise I’m actually gonna write it. I have a whole sandbox doc. But point is they’re stupid and they’re gross and they’re boyfriends.]

He was off on some godforsaken tangent again about nothing in particular, which Jim had tuned out a good ten minutes ago. Sometimes he felt a little bad about how easy it’d become to turn Corey to white noise, but then he caught something about what Ted Bundy did right or pounding back all the Kool-Aid at Jonestown (“It’s Flavor-Aid, James.”) and decided it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. Some things were just better left alone. Letting Corey babble while Jim mindlessly twisted his fingers through his curls was a pretty good option in Jim’s book.

Of course, that was all up until Corey inevitably realized he was being ignored and made it a point to get the spotlight back. 

[In which Jim shares the same emotion towards Corey and his Sagittarius center of attention disease as the rest of us.]

Jim shifted away from the finger that was jabbing him hard in the ribs, pulling a face and looking down at Corey who had propped himself up on his chin, laying on Jim’s stomach. “What’d I do this time? Jesus.”

“You better be thinkin’ about something real fuckin’ important.” 

[Bold of him to assume Jim is experiencing thoughts at all tbh.]

“Oh yeah. Daydreaming about the day you’re finally able to sit and shut up for more than ten seconds.”

[Aren’t we all.]

Corey narrowed his eyes, punching Jim in the side, satisfied with the ��Ow!” he earned in response. “You fuckin’ prick. You don’t get to complain.”

“I get to complain the most. Nobody else sitting here listening to you talk about the logistics of having a conjoined twin, y’know. I’ve earned that right fair and square, dude.”

“What, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about how you’d—”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

[Just in case you were wondering, (you probably weren’t) the gremlin is thinking about how you’d fuck with a conjoined twin.]

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he still couldn’t hide the dumb little smirk that wanted to tug at the corners of his lips. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Corey started up again and Jim immediately cut him off, reaching over to clap a hand over his mouth. “Ah! Don’t. Just. Shut up.”

[Jim: asks that question

Corey: starts telling his entire life story for the sixtieth time that week]

Corey batted Jim’s hand away, pushed himself up, crawling in close enough to swing a leg over Jim, straddling his hips. He leaned in, probably half a millimeter from Jim’s face, hands planted at either side of his head, curls cascading down around him. He was still pretty even when he was being a bastard and it was total bullshit. 

[You’re just mad your dick won’t you stay mad at him, James.]

“Make me.” 

Jim snorted a laugh. “Just say you want me to choke you out and be done with it.”

“Nah, that’s you. ‘Sit on my dick and strangle me, it’ll be great.”

“Don’t make me out to be the fuckin’ pervert when you’re the one begging me to step on your balls,” Jim retorted, barely even batting an eye. 

Corey sat up a little, leering down at Jim and running his tongue over his teeth. Eventually he just resigned to it. “Fair. But you’re still gross.”

[Points were made. There ain’t no winning here lbr.]

“Mhm. Right.” Jim reached up, threading a hand messy through Corey’s hair to bring him into a kiss. “You done bitching yet? Can I go back to only kinda hearing the crazy shit that comes out of your mouth again?”

“Hell no,” he said, shaking his head for that extra touch of dramatic emphasis. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? If you weren’t the size of a goddamn skyscraper I’d swear you just crawled out of whatever pit you came from.”

“Maybe I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. The great big mouth will never be silenced.” Jim giggled, bringing a knee up to knock Corey over beside him. He rolled over, pinning him down instead. “Y’know, except maybe when you’ve got a dick shoved in your face. Still making noise, but at least you’re not fuckin’ talking.”

Corey got a look on his face like he’d just reinvented the wheel, squinting his eyes up in a shit-eating grin, and Kill Bill sirens started going off in Jim’s head. No. Nope. We are under attack. This couldn’t be anything good. 

“Okay, but just consider— AND HEAR ME OUT, OKAY?” Corey cut in, watching the idea of interrupting him again flicker through Jim’s head. “What about two dicks? I bet I could fit two dicks in my mouth.”

Well. Huh. Maybe that did have Jim some sort of interested. He sat back a little, looking Corey up and down. “…You have my attention.”

“Listen, I know this chick and—” 

Jim had to laugh, ‘cause Corey thinking he was actually gonna share had to be the funniest goddamn thing to happen to him all week. He didn’t consider himself the jealous type. Maybe a little possessive sometimes. But he had to keep a tight leash on Corey Todd “Himbo” Taylor. Him being certified Awful was what got them into this mess in the first place. Jim just had a bad habit of catching feelings. Whatever, clearly Corey was more than okay with it.

[Yes I did use the word himbo in this fic and no I do not accept criticism. Also a bit of lore is that Corey essentially annoyed the absolute dick out of Jim until he was about ready to commit a murder all as an elaborate plan to get a date.]

“Nope, try that again.”

“Alright, what about Mick or—”

“Is that supposed to be better?” 

Corey groaned, punching Jim in the shoulder. “Why you gotta ruin all the fun? Can’t a dude get his face fucked and not get a bunch of shit for it?”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Jim mused. “But if you think I’m gonna let anybody else have that kind of satisfaction, you’re dead wrong dude. I’m the only one around here who deserves it. Take it or leave it.” 

Corey cocked his head to the side, staring Jim down like he was supposed to take him seriously. Like Jim didn’t already know the answer. Like he didn’t know that Corey was physically incapable of turning down the chance to get his shit rocked, whether it happened the way he wanted it to or not. 

“Fuck you. Fine.”

[Okay so this WHOLE FIC was deadass prompted by that stupid fucking picture of Corey with his fist shoved in his mouth skdjfg. So I was talking to Marina and I was like. Y’know. I bet he could fit two dicks in there. And I just kinda went buck wild. Jim was supposed to split the little bastard’s lips and shove a dildo in there too but that. Did not happen. Maybe someday.]

Content, Jim rolled off of him, got to his feet, and made a ‘well?’ gesture. Corey didn’t move, instead shooting him a look. A challenge.

Still playing that game. Alright.

Jim reached down, twisting Corey’s hair around his fist and dragging him towards the edge of the bed. “Really gonna be stubborn when you’re the one who’s begging for it?” 

“You want it all for yourself, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

[Sir that is not how this works.]

Smug little fucker. Corey had put him through the same act at least a billion times now but somehow he still managed to find a way to get Jim to want to smack the ego right out of him. 

Corey slipped off the bed, knees buckling without (a ton of) struggle when Jim pushed him towards the floor. He tilted Corey’s head back, getting a firm grip on his jaw. 

“How you manage to be so cute while being such a pain in the ass still fuckin’ blows my mind, y’know.”

A giggle bubbled up in Corey’s chest. He strained against the hand in his hair, trying to wriggle his way out of Jim’s hold. He knew it wasn’t gonna happen, but hey— couple fingerprint shaped bruises never hurt anyone. 

[I didn’t realize how weird the wording here was until after I posted it ngl. Like. He’s angling Corey’s head back by pulling his hair and holding him there by holding his jaw. Just. To clear that up. I’ve been obsessing over this one little line for months cuz it’s a little weird but I Am Not Changing It.]

“You love it. Wouldn’t have put up with me this long if you didn’t. It’s okay, Peach. You can admit I’m hot shit.”

“Shut up, would you?” Jim tugged back, drawing a surprised noise out of Corey that only served to melt back into a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Come on, don’t be so touchy. I’m right.” Corey slid a hand up the inside of Jim’s thigh, pressing his palm into him and grabbing his already half-hard cock through his sweats. “If I’m not, then explain this away. Pavlov ain’t got shit on me.”

Nah. Nope. That was more than enough out of him. Jim wrenched Corey’s hand away, taking his hands off him just long enough to shove his sweats and boxers down and free his cock. “Open. And hands to your fuckin’ self.”

[SEE HE JUST MAD HIS DICK ENTERS THE CHAT EVERY TIME COREY’S BEING A LITTLE BITCH.]

Thankfully, that was the one thing that Corey didn’t try and fight. He leaned his head back, opened his mouth, and locked his gaze with Jim’s. Stupid pretty blue eyes practically sparkling, knowing damn well he got Jim good. Fuck. Asshole couldn’t turn it off for a second, could he? 

Jim grabbed him, holding him in place as he guided his dick into his mouth. Warm and wet and fucking perfect as always. This little shit was gonna give him a heart attack some day, he just knew it. 

He started off slow, watching Corey melt into it. Eyes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing out around him, hands clasped behind his back. Tongue laving expertly around the head of Jim’s cock like it was second nature. Hot shit was a stretch, but hot was a different story. 

“Fuck yeah, that’s good,” Jim groaned, hand anchored on the back of Corey’s head as he rolled his hips into his mouth. “All bark and no bite. Think it would be easier to just say you wanna get used like a toy. Least you’re good at it.”

Corey made a pleased noise, leaning into it, taking Jim’s length deeper. He opened his eyes again, looking up at Jim through his lashes and whining softly. A plea for more. More ‘cause he was a greedy little bastard. 

Jim took the cue, snapping his hips forward, tightening his grip. He heard Corey sputter around him a bit, which only served as further encouragement. He fucked into his mouth in quick, deep thrusts, Corey practically going limp before him. The heat, the way Corey pressed his tongue against the underside of his cock, face contorting a bit every time Jim’s dick hit the back of his throat. Jim was already wrapped tight around the axel but god, it was too pretty of a sight to give up this early in the game. 

Even if it was giving Corey exactly what he was trying for— a happy Corey was a quiet Corey.

Or quieter.

[Ha.]

When Jim let up to let Corey catch his breath, he probably lost about half his brain cell count. Drool running down his chin, lips pink and swollen, crystal eyes brimming with tears— Corey looked practically ethereal. Like, fuck wings and halos. This was as close to angelic as someone could get and Jim fucking loved it. Shit. 

[He do be pretty tho. Also idk where the sudden religious imagery came from but like. I sure did stick with it huh. Whatever it works.]

Jim dragged his thumb over Corey’s bottom lip, breaking strings of spit that connected with his cock. He hooked his thumb under Corey’s chin, slipping two long fingers in his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. 

Corey closed around them, running his tongue between them before bobbing his head and taking them deeper. He moaned around the digits, shifting on his knees a little like he wanted to buck his hips into something that wasn’t there.

Satisfied, Jim retracted his fingers, rubbing them over Corey’s lips and chin and smearing spit across his face while he caught his breath. Jesus fucking Christ. He was feeling more and more like a ticking time bomb by the minute here, and Corey’s stupid obnoxious pretty blissed out face was doing him no favors. 

[At this point I was like. Hmmm. How many different ways can I ruin this stupid little rat’s entire career. This is really just the everything but the kitchen sink fic.]

No matter how good and perfect and fucked up and fucking slutty he looked down on his knees, taking whatever he was given, that didn’t change a damn thing. He was still the same terrible little demon that Jim knew and loved for some godforsaken reason. 

[THEY’RE IN LOVE!!!]

“‘S that it?” he rasped out, in between heavy breaths he knew he was gonna need to savor.

Nevermind. Jim was gonna kill him. Like, absolutely decimate him. 

[I WANT THAT TWINK OBLITERATED]

He thrust back into Corey’s mouth, finding the same fast pace as before. Haphazardly pulling Corey into it, meeting every rut of hips, making him struggle more this time around. Jim watched him squirm, nails biting into his wrists, but they stayed where they were locked behind his back. 

This was that sweet spot, where Corey felt filthy and used and amazing all wrapped up into one. Sure, he could ask for it, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun. All the back and forth was part of the game that made the end goal that much sweeter. And yes, he was terrible and loved every minute of bugging the shit out of Jim until he finally snapped. It got him the attention, didn’t it?

[I started to veer off into this sort of perspective shift thing and I didn’t know how I felt about it while I was writing it but honestly I really like how it made the story flow.]

He was worlds away for a while, reduced to nothing more than a hole to be filled while Jim fucked his face. All moans and sloppy wet sounds, soaking up every little sensation— stingy pain of his hair being pulled, jaw starting to ache, cock fucking throbbing and leaking a wet spot into his boxers every time he got the least bit of friction. Jim thought Corey was an angel and this was most definitely heaven. 

Of course, Corey only stayed on cloud nine for so long. Jim hit the back of his throat again, holding him there this time. He only gagged a little at first, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. Corey’s eyes shot open and he whimpered around him, but Jim stayed put.

The second wave was worse, and he finally had to unclasp his hands and bring them up to grip onto Jim’s hips— his sign to let up.

Jim let go and pulled back just in time for a full body wretch to hit Corey. He doubled over, bracing himself on his hands, thick, stringy deepthroat spit dripping from his mouth. He hung his head, breathing hard, and Jim felt his cock twitch. 

[Don’t @ me I had just been subjected to not one but SEVERAL puke fics and I was feeling an emotion okay.]

“Oh fuck me,” Jim said out loud, because Jim was a gross horny fool. 

He knelt down, laying his hand against Corey’s cheek, making him lift his head again. He looked positively ruined. Eyes red, cheeks tear stained, whole mouth wet and well used, the front of his shirt starting to go sheer from all the drool. God, all Jim wanted to do was kiss him.

“Good?” Jim asked, and Corey gave a weak nod. Jim moved in a little closer. “Hey, talk to me. You okay? Need to stop?”

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Corey sighed, leaning his forehead against Jim’s. “Don’t wanna stop, no. Was into it, trust me.” He let go of a gravelly laugh, “Just gimme a minute.”

Jim nodded his head, running his thumb along the curve of Corey’s jaw. “Fuckin’ pretty, y’know.”

[Oh no they’re sweet.]

“Peach?”

“Mmm?”

“Shut up. Don’t just look at me like that. You look dumb.”

[Nvm.]

Jim rolled his eyes, “You shut up.” He curled his hand around the back of Corey’s neck and closed what little gap was left between them with a kiss. He tasted like cigarettes and salt and skin and it made Jim’s head spin and his stomach do backflips. Which I mean, was definitely due in part to the fact that his dick was cocked and ready to blow like a shotgun straight through the wall next to him. But Corey— the feel of his skin and the taste on his tongue and his weight on top of Jim when he was being dumb and pretty and needy and refusing to be anything less than the center of attention— well, that never helped Jim’s case. 

Soft little whimpers from Corey were muffled into Jim’s mouth, hands sliding around his broad frame and hiking his shirt up so Corey could trace over the curve of Jim’s spine. Little bit of contact, closeness that was lost when it wasn’t Jim balls deep inside of him. This was okay though. More than okay, fucking fantastic. Good to the point that Corey didn’t even try and fight when Jim pulled away. Especially not when he tugged his head back, making him look up at the ceiling as he licked a stripe from the very bottom of his chin, back to his lips. He kissed him again, like he needed to be attached at the mouth to survive, tongue easily gaining entry into Corey’s mouth and pulling more throaty moans from him. 

[Jk they’re still gross and in love.]

It was over all too quickly, Corey making a sound in protest as Jim pulled away from him and rose to his feet again. Jim yanked his head back, catching his lower lip with his thumb, mouth falling open once more. Before the thought even had the chance of passing through Corey’s mind of what the hell— Jim was bent over him, holding him in place as he spit into his mouth. Or rather back into his mouth. 

Oh. Shit. Alright. 

[Again, everything but the kitchen sink here boys.]

Several emotions flashed across Corey’s face before he settled in at acceptance, staring up at Jim with big, glazed over eyes as he towered over him.

“You want more?”

Corey nodded a very enthusiastic yes.

“Gonna be a good boy for me?”

That was met with some hesitation, knit brows and a shrug of the shoulders like he was weighing his options. Jim just shook his head. “If you’re gonna be a shit, then you can do it your damn self now. Prove you deserve it.”

Corey shot him a look, but he didn’t exactly try and argue. Wouldn’t be the first time he sucked a dick to make a point. Definitely not the last either. He sat up on his knees, wrapping his hand around Jim’s length, working him in slow, even strokes as he teased his tongue over the head. Jim about had an aneurysm from the looks of it and Corey couldn’t help but giggle. 

Jim knocked his knuckles against the side of Corey’s face. Not hard enough to hurt, but still enough to make him knock it the fuck off.

Stupid slut. 

[This still makes me giggle. Like you bap a fucking cat on the nose dksgdfj.]

Sucking the tip of Jim’s dick into his mouth, Corey gave a contented hum. He bobbed his head up and down, keeping pace with his hand, Jim lazily tracing his fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks. He mumbled a string of praise— ‘fuck yeah, baby’ and ‘so fucking good’ and ‘shit, just like that.’ Caught up and fucked up all over again. Corey Taylor was a bastard and Jim wasn’t about to give him up for a goddamn thing. 

Corey pulled off of him with a filthy ‘pop,’ wasting little time between then and ducking his head down to tongue at Jim’s balls. For what had to be the billionth time in the past ten minutes, Jim was briefly convinced he was going to leave this earth entirely. It was all he could do, to watch dumbly as Corey worked from left to right, sucking and moaning and swirling his tongue in just the right way to make Jim’s dick visibly twitch in his hand 

“Jesus fuck, baby.”

Jesus fuck, indeed. He was already seeing stars and he still hadn’t come yet. Here he was, giving the incentive of more when his knees were about to buckle. Who’s the jackass now?

[Me: writing oral sucks it’s always awkward and repetitive

Also me: stretches the oral to 5k]

Jim’s head fell back as Corey worked his way back up his length, running his tongue along the underside of it before damn near hilting him on his first try. He choked a little, pulling back to center himself before he tried again. Obscene sounds and lascivious moans filled the air, Jim’s eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the heat burning in the pit of his stomach. All he needed was a minute or two and to watch Corey’s eyes roll back in his skull to be pulled taut and ready to snap at any second. 

“Fuck me, I’m so close. Come on baby, don’t stop. Know you want it too.” Jim’s hand had found its way to the back of Corey’s head again, forcing him further down, finding that perfect rhythm again. Call it a sign of encouragement. Or something. 

Yeah, encouragement.  

Corey worked him as hard as he could, sucking and licking and slurping and swallowing him whole until the vibrations from one final groan around Jim’s cock brought all these sensations to a crescendo. Jim held him down as he came hard, spilling down his throat, swearing and gritting his teeth. Corey nursed him through, sucking him slow as Jim’s arms and legs turned to jello. Watching through his lashes as he tensed and moaned, breathing in sharp, ragged inhales until he finally had to shove Corey away ‘cause shit. 

Jim sighed heavily, pushing his hair back and out of his face, staring down at the stupid cocky look on Corey’s face. Were he able to form a coherent thought, he would have taken his ego down a notch— unfortunately, mentally he was still somewhere off in orbit. Without being entirely aware of his own actions, Jim was grabbing Corey by the collar and getting him back up off his knees. He shoved his hands underneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips studying inches of skin, the hair on his stomach, sides damp with sweat, every bump and imperfection before finally pulling the ratty spit-soaked tee over his head. 

[And to your left, you see Service Top Brain immediately taking control the second Jim no longer has enough brain cells to resist it.]

He pulled Corey to him, hands on his waist as he backed up to the bed, knees giving way when they hit the edge of the mattress. Jim hit the bed and laid back, bringing Corey down with him and directly into a kiss. Strong arms circled around Corey’s frame, bodies pressed snug, mouths melded together as one. Whatever post-nut trance Jim was in, it was perfectly fine by Corey. This was close and safe and comfortable and I mean, with the way Jim was rocking him against his stomach, you weren’t gonna hear much more than the sound of his brain cells popping like balloons ‘cause his dick was taking up all the blood flow. 

[They may be stupid but you gotta admit. They are pretty tender too.]

A high pitched whine that (it was safe to assume) was supposed words fell from Corey’s lips as Jim’s connected with the center of his chest. He had pulled away panting, working his way down— mouthing at Corey’s jaw, nipping at his earlobe, leaving a trail of hickeys down his neck. Maybe it had caught Corey off guard a little, not getting told off for being a shit and all, but any and all attention was welcome here with open arms. 

“Fuck, Jim c’mon,” he barely managed to gasp out. Forming sentences wasn’t about to be the first to go. He had a reputation to uphold here. “Better not start messin’ with me now.”

Teeth clinked against metal, Jim tugging on the ring through his right nipple and ripping all the thoughts straight from his brain for a moment. He swirled his tongue over the hardening flesh before biting down. Corey shivered and bit back a moan, pain radiating through him and twisting up in his gut. Like he wasn’t already prepared to implode as is. “Mother fucking Mary. Now you’re just making it a point to be a dick. Nobody likes a tease, Peach.”

[Also calling Jim peach is Corey’s thing in this universe. It’s gross. And soft. They’re the worst.]

Nothing. Not even an upwards glance. 

Corey wanted to scream. He wanted to slam his fist down on the bed, call Jim some new variant on ‘cunt,’ fight back, take control. But he also really didn’t want this to stop. He was so hard it fucking hurt and Jim had him right in the palm of his hand where he could barely keep his head straight and honestly? He was perfectly fine sitting right there. He was probably just missing some cue. Off by a beat and too whiny and stubborn to realize it. (Which he was. Corey never claimed to be smart. Especially not when his lizard brain was kicked into overdrive and all he could think about was getting split in half.) 

[He’s so STUPID. God. Bratty ass dumbass.]

While the idea was pretty appealing, he couldn’t even begin to collect the agency he’d need for any of that anyway. There was now a hand dangerously high up on his thigh, thumb tracing line where it met his hip, and there was no goddamn way he was gonna be able to focus on anything else. 

So Jim still did want him dead. Cool. 

“God baby, what do you want?” Corey whined, raking his nails over Jim’s chest, watching red marks appear in their wake. “I wasn’t even that bad. Did everything you wanted, barely even gave you shit. What, you want me to get you off again? ‘Cause I can do that. I’ll gladly do that if it gets you to quit fucking dragging me along. I’ll do all the work and fuck you myself if I gotta. Could smash my face into a wall and call me a soul sucking whore for all I care. Jesus Christ, just give me more.”

[YOU’RE SO CLOSE YET SO FAR BUD.]

Jim’s fingertips dipped into the elastic of Corey’s boxers, dragging across the front between his hips, just barely brushing against his cock before the waistband snapped back against his skin. Corey yelped, heels of his palms digging into Jim’s collarbones. He had no doubt Jim was thoroughly enjoying this, but the joke wasn’t all that funny anymore. Wasn’t very funny to begin with, actually. 

“Fuck me, Peach please. Please, I’ll do fucking anything. Just quit doing that.”

Suddenly Corey’s back was against the sheets again, Jim sliding back off the bed to tear his boxers down and toss them in some vague direction (he was only really going for away.) He nudged Corey’s legs apart and kneed back up between them, fingers curling around his cock. Corey’s hips immediately jerked up into the contact and he let out a hiss. Good god, he was so fucking sensitive he wanted to die. He made a noise that sounded more like a sob than anything, grabbing at Jim’s wrist. If he stopped he was going to scream but if he kept it up Corey was about to be launched into space and land on fucking Neptune. 

“Was that really so hard?” Jim questioned, and yeah. Maybe it was. Getting Corey to ask nice instead of being a colossal brat was like pulling teeth from an alligator. Fortunately for Jim, he was currently on a one way flight to the next realm. It was a little harder to keep all that up in the moment. 

Another “please” was all Corey managed— clearly asking for something else, something more— but Jim couldn’t just let him have that. 

“See, now you’re getting the hang of it!”

[Jim: See I can be an asshole too]

Corey snaked his arms around Jim’s neck, pulling him down to eye level. “Is it your goal in life to be a giant fucking pain in the ass?”

[Yes. That and buy a bike.]

“As much as it is yours, baby.” Jim laughed, nuzzling against Corey’s cheek. He mouthed little kisses against his jaw, slowly stroking him, pulling a frustrated growl from somewhere deep in his chest. 

He clawed at Jim’s shoulders, threading his hand through Jim’s hair and tugging back hard. More than anything, he was just trying to keep himself some semblance of centered. It wasn’t working very well. “Fucking hell. More, give me more. Give me your hands.”

Jim lifted his gaze, meeting Corey’s eyes, staring at him blankly. 

“Please.”

The grip around Corey’s cock let up and he groaned again at the loss of friction. It was gonna take next to nothing to make him fall apart. Callused fingers fingers slip up his torso and caught on his bottom lip, still kissed and swollen. “I’ll do that for you, but you might have to remind me how you earned it.”

Corey barely let him finish before he had his lips wrapped around two digits, working his tongue along them. He held onto Jim’s wrist, forcing them back and making himself gag hard. At this point, he didn’t care what it took. Besides, it was either keep his mouth busy or run it anyway. He flashed a look back up at Jim, batting his lashes and making sure to give him a little show before finally pulling off and kissing his fingertips. Is that wasn’t enough, then he didn’t know what the fuck would be.

And thank fucking buddha Jim’s mouth was enveloping his own just a moment later, one of his thighs being pushed back for a better angle and some leverage as Jim’s other hand slid between his legs. Slick fingers pressed against his entrance, drawing a pathetic noise from his throat, his legs twitching in eager anticipation. 

The first eased in, sunk home, and Corey could have sworn he saw the light in that moment. Glitter and gold and pearly gates, fluffy white clouds, and giant fucking bearpaw hands that were holding his entire fucking being in their palms. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that— Jim being that big. I mean sure, his dick alone could take out a whole city easily, but it was all of him. Limbs and chest and hips and hands. Oh good god, his hands. Say what you want about how dumb and awkward he was otherwise, but he always knew exactly what he was doing with his hands. 

[HE DO BE LANKY AND AWKWARD. Also I still can’t help but think of how weird his hands are. Like they’re so SMALL in proportion to the rest of him but they’re still HUGE. James what the fuck is that shit.]

 Corey moaned into the mouth locked with his own as Jim started to pump in and out of him, the stretch nearly impossible feeling for just one finger. Maybe it was that he was already desperate, ready to burst, that had him so beyond himself. Maybe it was just the fact that Jim knew exactly how to poke and prod to make him start to come apart at the seams. 

He started to relax more, lean into it (or as best as he could with the weight on top of him.) Steady chants of ‘yes, yes, yes, more, fuck’ swarmed around whatever little bubble they’d been encapsulated in. Corey practically had Jim in a chokehold, holding him down as close as he could possibly get, foreheads pressed together. Completely and totally consumed. 

Another finger worked inside him, curling and twisting and scissoring him open, making him flutter around them and writhe to find just the right— 

“There, there. Don’t you dare stop. Holy shit.” Corey cried out, arching up off the mattress, holding onto Jim for dear life. “So fucking good. Feels so fucking good.”

Jim brushed his fingertips against Corey’s walls again, hitting that sweet spot and eliciting another borderline embarrassing moan. “Yeah, that’s it. Not so tough like this, are you? Fight so hard to get what you want and you still come undone for me just the same. Real good when you want to be, y’know.”

Whatever Corey wanted to say came out in an incoherent mumble— something something for you and something something damn lucky. His orgasm was already twisting and burning in the pit of his stomach, and his was still only very loosely tied to this realm. Beyond taken and fucked up and he loved every minute of it. 

[Fighting to the very end, even with fingers in his ass. Just shut up already you stupid slut.]

He couldn’t take his eyes off Jim as he wormed his way out of his grasp, sat back, spread his legs a little wider apart. He leaned down, and Corey was vaguely aware of him spitting before he felt like he was being properly split in two. A third digit joined the other two. God, it was almost too much. Impossibly full and tight and overwhelming, all thanks to James and his inhumanely big hands that were surely going to be Corey’s cause of death here one of these days. 

Corey couldn’t even breathe now, squeaking out another little plea for more, honed in on Jim like a deer in headlights. He knotted his hands up in the sheets, finally able to roll his hips and fuck himself against Jim’s hand without him pinning him in place. The blood rushing through his ears still wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out Jim’s encouragement— “So good, so pretty, look at you, perfect little slut. All mine. Come on baby, let me see you come.” 

That alone was enough to make Corey’s eyes roll back in his head, but one last perfect angle of his hips was what finally sent him over the edge. He came so hard his vision went fuzzy, limbs giving out as he spilled over his stomach and cried out, “Oh god, fuck daddy.”

[THERE IT IS. One of the terrible influences who shall not be named popped into my DMs like “Consider: unnegotiated honorary in a moment of carnal horny and then Jim just straight up CACKLES” and I was like well. Guess That’s Getting Throw In The Pile Too.] 

There was a minute of blank, overwhelmed and far away and completely beyond himself. Jim milked him through it, still working his fingers in and out as the aftershocks made him twitch and whimper, until he started to come back down again. Actually, the only thing that snapped him back to the here and now was realizing that Jim was laughing. Not just laughing, giggling like a goddamn school girl. 

You had to be fucking kidding. 

Corey reached out, attempting to smack him but missing entirely. “Fuck’s so funny?”

“Daddy? Dude. You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding right?” Jim dissolved into another fit of laughter, eyes scrunched up in a big grin. 

“Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth now. You don’t get to hold the shit I say when I come against me.” Corey huffed, sitting up on his elbows and trying to scoot away. Unlucky for him, Jim was still big enough to lean over him again and still be eye level. 

He pushed Corey’s hair back, pressing a kiss to his lips with a deep chuckle. “Quit your whining. You alright?”

Corey rolled his eyes, collapsing with a sigh and (albeit begrudgingly) circling his arms around Jim’s neck. “Mmm, peachy. Just shut up and cuddle me, you fucking demon. And you tell no one about that.”

[ANYWAY. This fic took me like three wholeass months or something so I hope it was worth it. There’s also a coinciding playlist that goes with this beast if you click on the AO3 link back at the top. Thank you for reading this disaster.] 

[monsterfluffandstuff]

Dr. Elder (plague doctor variety 1) x Beatrix Galen (first person) Platonic

This is strictly friendly fluff and supernatural exposition(that could lead to romance in the future if i revisit these characters). Based on what was supposed to be a drabble for @fuckyouamanda turned into me being sleep deprived and getting a bit carried away with lore.

`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’d been driving for miles, trying to find this little cottage I was supposed to be staying at, a detour for raspberry tarts had gotten us lost. As the sun began to sink further into the night, the needle on our fuel gauge sank into the red. My driver for the trip, Damen, found a small station and hopped out to raise some help. I remember waving to Damen as he turned and mouthed that someone was coming to the door. I got out of the car and start walking off to the side of the station, to make a call and make sure my reservation hadn’t been forfeited. I couldn’t get signal and I moved further away, waving my phone around like a mad woman. Then I heard Damen yell and I turned to see his face was full of horror, his arms were waving. Everything got very slow as I felt the air leave my body. I didn’t feel the pain until I hit the ground, I heard a crack, and everything went dark.

 My eyes hurt when I try to open them, maybe I don’t want to open them, really. I’m so…tired. So, I drift back off and I dream, of a - person, no - are they even human? The figure is tall and slender with broad shoulders and flowing robes, they look like some illustrations that I saw in a museum in…I can’t remember where. But I remember this shape, the beaked mask with glass eyes. Am I dying? Is my brain throwing images at me of what I’ve seen? No, I only see them, the figure and their assistant.  

These odd visions persist, these waking dreams. Sometimes all I see is a ceiling covered in lovely swirling designs, but there is a voice. This voice has a deepness that is comforting but it lilts and flows as it reads me prose. I know this must be a dream as everything I hear is something I remember. There is Shakespeare, Austen, and even some excerpts from stand-up routines I love. Hearing “There’s a horse loose in the hospital” in the confused tones of the voice in my head makes it, oddly, more hilarious. It was also comforting. To think that I am fighting, on whatever subconscious level, is reassuring. If I ever properly wake up, I hope I remember this.

 ~~~~~~~

 When I wake again I am sore, but my eyes are more cooperative. The room is dim, but I am thankful for that. All around me, the walls are a mild mint green, as if they’ve faded from years of wear, the curtains are drawn, patterned in vines and sprigs of leaves. I feel as if I lay on a cloud, and as much as I want to know where I am, I feel no need to leave this place. I finally become aware of the I.V. hooked up on my left, at least they picked the easy arm.  Well, I assume they picked the easy arm, its hard to tell if they had any false starts as my arms are fairly covered in bruises. The bag is covered by a casing, so I can’t see if they have me on saline or something else. My arms are swollen so saline is a good bet, but that could be the bruising too. I try to wiggle my finger and find something in my left hand. A small red button on a corded white toggle. I don’t try to see where the cord leads because craning my neck is still too laborious. I use every bit of strength to push the button and I hear a delicate bell chime coming from the other side of the door.

 I don’t really know where I am but I’m more concerned about how I am. I’ve never been in a car crash before, but I feel like I’ve been dehydrated, crushed up, and reconstituted.  A nurse knocks and enters my room and she looks like some colorized version of those portraits my gran used to show me. All but her cap, as it bears a small black bird.

 “Ah finally awake, I see”

 I try to speak, I want to but my throat feels dry and scratchy, and so I cough and stutter. The nurse comes over and offers me some ice chips and I nod, feebly.

 “The doc will be in momentarily. He’ll explain everything.”

 As the door opens once more and the nurse exits, the figure takes her place. The mask is closer to a dark brown than the black in my visions. But it could be lighting. Damn these drugs must be phenomenal.

 “Ms. Galen, pleasure to see you properly awake. I’m Dr. Elder and I’m sure you have a lot of questions about-“

 I smiled, I smiled like a damn goof. It was the voice, the one that was so baffled as to the meaning of a teenage boy yelling scatter and smashing a “forty, what is a blasted forty?” on the ground.

 “You were reading to me, weren’t you? How did you know what I liked? How did you get into my dream?”

 I know I must sound delirious, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice as they shuffle their feet a bit and sit down in the chair by my bed. I feel a hand on my wrist, checking my pulse. There is a faint light behind the eyes of the mask, like a dying glowstick in the dawn of the day after a rave. Blue, lovely blue. Like the old icebox Gran had when I was little, before she was sent away. She made this pie that tasted like blue skies and honeysuckle. I miss Gran.

 “Ms. Galen? Can you hear me?”

 I realize I’ve been drifting in and out, too many memories to ignore all of them, so I let a few nice ones sneak through.

 “Yes, loud and clear, sorry, Doc. My ears still work, at least. What happened to me?”

 The nose of the mask bobs down then back up, the glass portholes seeming to stare into me. I don’t really mind them.

 “Well, Ms. Galen-“

 “Oh please call me Bea, or Beatrix.”

 The nose bobbed again, the mask nodding.

 “Ms. Beatrix, you were in a rather nasty accident involving some improperly parked farm equipment, I’m afraid that you- you-”

 I peer at the mask, questioning.

 “I what, Doc? Is it my legs my spine, my arms?”

 In an odd sort of calculated panic, I start to wiggle everything, and though it is all sore, everything all seems to work. I reach for the cup of ice chips next to me and the doctor seems shocked. Obviously, there are no eyebrows to clue me in, but the shoulders, broad a they are, rise ever higher. The beak bobs side to side, ever so slightly, as if shaking in disbelief.

 “Listen, Doc, let me level with you, I feel sore but otherwise functional. I’d really like the rundown on what I’m in for- Oh, and Damen, is he ok? Is he here too?”

 “No, Ms. Gal- Beatrix. He was well away from the car when the accident occurred, he was unharmed. Your recovery will be extended, however you should regain most of the function in your extremities, your right leg was not broken but it hasn’t responded to stimuli as actively as your left. I’m afraid, it isn’t possible to transfer you to another facility as there was a terrible storm not long after you were brought in, and we aren’t currently able to reach anyone.”

 I nod as I take it in, he’s ignored my dream-based inquiries, so I guess I really did dream them. I must have heard his voice while I was out, and my brain did the rest. It was a bit scary, not having a way to let anyone know. But I realized, only my school would really need to know.

 “What kind of facility is this? And what exactly am I on for pain?”

 The mask bobs again, my imagination is much more vivid than I ever realized. The doctor rises to his full height.

 “This is a small clinic. Our purpose is to help our patients get to a place where they can move on. We typically only house about three to five patients at a time and usually we only deal with minor maladies. Currently we just have you with us.” He paused for a breath and poured me a glass of cold water to go beside my ice chips.

 “As for the pain, if you are having any just ring Lottie again and she will help you.” The good doc picks up my chart and hums.  “We have you on dilaudid, but your last dose should’ve worn off by now. If that is all, Beatrix, I’ll be getting on to some of my other duties that need tending. I will be back to see you though, I promise, you are our priority.”

 I nod, numbly, feeling there is something I’m missing. As the door swings shut I realize that I can, in fact, feel an excruciating pain in my right shoulder and hip, and I just know a headache is coming on. I ring for Lottie and ask for an icepack and something to eat, as I feel starved.

 There are worse places to recover, I suppose, than a comfortable room with a lovely view of- were those gardens? I wonder to myself, if the food is good. Back home when I was hospitalized the cafeteria had the best roast beef. Gran loved it, she joked that she visited me just to sneak food off my plate.

 But this was a clinic, I didn’t expect a large cafeteria or anything like what I’d known. As if by some universal alignment, a heaping plate of roast beef with gravy, mash, and veg, arrived for supper. I dig in and it tastes like back home. I use a cloth napkin, embroidered with another black bird, to dab at my mouth. That is when I realize it, and my fork clatters onto the plate.

 The mask is real. The glowing eyes. Real.

 Somehow this doesn’t faze me as much as I think it should, but I’ve seen stranger things. I dig back into my roast beef and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

 ~~~~~~~

The next couple of days blended into this calming routine. It turns out that I did, in fact, need a wheelchair for a bit, as my good leg got tired after short bursts of activity. But the physio seemed to help, even as old fashioned as the physical therapist was. A slim man with a handlebar mustache, that served in the army at one point; he went by Butch and always seemed to be smiling.

 I got to know Lottie too, and found there were even more of these clinics, dotted about the whole of Europe. No one ever explained why Dr.Elder wore the mask but I never asked either.

 True to his word, I did see the good doctor again. Quite frequently. It started with morning check in, then there were impromptu visits, a few walks/ rolls, around the grounds, when it wasn’t pouring. As there were no other patients, and communications were still down from the storm, I found Elder to be great company. I hadn’t mentioned the dreams again, but volumes of my favorite stories appeared on my night table, and some nights when I was too tired to read, but too sore to sleep, Elder read to me. He admitted to reading to me, before I’d woken up, saying it seemed to soothe patients. We would talk about which stories we liked best, what we had grown up with. He had an upbringing rife with old classics, but once brought in a book of poetry. The verses were completely new to me, and I loved them. Lottie later told me they were his, he’d written them about patients over the years, the good and the bad. Being a doctor takes a toll on your soul and he relieved his burden through his writing.  

 I began spending the bulk of my time with him and we fell into a comfortable sort of friendship, something I had failed at achieving with even my closest classmates in nursing school. I felt better, every day and I wondered if my accident had really been as bad as all that.

 The storm that had knocked out the phone lines was still coming in waves, and the fourth day of dreary weather in a row, I decided it was time to offer up some alternate entertainment. I went looking through my effects and found my laptop and my external hard drive full of movies and music. I switched it on and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me to do this earlier. When Elder came up for a check in, I was watching John Mulaney, as I couldn’t stop thinking about the excerpts from my dreams. He sat down with me, and before we knew it we had blown through a good chuck of my stand-up.

 He tried to laugh along in the right places, even though a lot of it seemed to go over his head, but at the end he did seem to be thoroughly happy. We were just about to start on some animated movies when Lottie started banging down my door calling for us “chortling heathens” to come take supper in the dining room.

 I also got along with Lottie and Butch through all of this, but they seemed more focused on each other and that was just fine with me. I liked my time with the Doc, and he seemed to like it too. Even spending as much time as we did together, I avoided mentioning his interesting choice of mask. I mocked up a few jokes about taking safety a bit too seriously but decided against them.

 The longer I spent at the clinic the more I came to realize that there was most certainly something distinctly “other” about it, but there was something in me that didn’t need that to be acknowledged. I was still on vacation time and I was sending my brain on vacation too.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 After a time I was able to leave the wheelchair in my room and graduate to a cane, it was a cause for celebration. I was warned that I may need to use one intermittently in the long term, to help the healing along, and because I was showing signs of post traumatic arthritis in my right hip. I decided that once I was able, I would cover my cane with tacky stickers and sparkly duct tape. There are many canes like it but this one is mine, god-dammit.

 Elder complimented my cane when we went on my first stroll in the gardens. He said I seemed to be glowing. As we walked parts of the grounds that I didn’t dare roll through, Elder told me that the clinic and its grounds had been a dairy farm long ago. its small size suited their purposes just fine. They had planted all a manner of flowers and fruit trees to yield beauty and fresh produce in the right seasons. We came across a raspberry bush and I remembered my tarts.

 “Are the phones working, yet, could I make a call?”

 “I can check, but they are supposed to be up and running today, these ancient lines go down so frequently.”

I stopped and picked a few raspberries, just ripe, so perfect I could do without the pastry. I offered some to Elder, and he declined. It was time.

 “Doc, why do you wear it?”

 Elders shoulders hunched, and I could feel something change. A mild tension that had permeated the air between us, dissipated.

 “Well I never saw the sense in it, but now it seems I can never take it off.”

 I let go of a breath, relieved I weren’t hallucinating, but now very aware that something was most assuredly different about this place, and my new-found friend.

 “Have you tried, do you need help?”

 Elder shook his head and took my hand. He led me to bench along the path and we took a rest.

 “I can’t remember when I last tried, or when someone else last remarked on it. To our regular patients I look however they need me to. Whatever face will put them at ease. I’ve worn so many, I can’t remember my own.”

I patted his back with my left hand, minding the catheter still in my arm. I’d been on I.V just before our walk, a small transfusion of fluids was ordered, as I had been feeling very dehydrated and a bit dizzy.

 “Lottie does her best, as well. You surprised her a bit, as young as you are. The memories help her a lot, so she’s grateful you seemed to have some pleasant ones to draw on. This isn’t a clinic for normal patients, I take it you’ve realized that by now.”

 He sat silent for a moment and I motioned to speak.

 “My Gran was a nurse long before I was born. Helping people was her calling and she worked from the day she got a job at the hospital to the day I was born. She would have worked until they stopped her, but she had earned her pension, so she retired to enjoy her family. When I happened, my father was pushing forty, and she was almost sixty. I was the apple of her eye when he adopted me.” I started to cry but I didn’t waver for more than a second.

I told Elder about dad dying when I was ten, a fluke heart attack. Gran being sent away when I was eleven, my aunt taking over. Gran dying, within a year, alone, in some home, from some treatable illness. Running away and getting caught, being put into a group home when they saw what my aunt had considered a suitable accommodation for a twelve year old. But I muddled through, and I graduated. I went to nursing school, for Gran. I had finished my first semester and entered a stupid raffle at the summer fair. I won, courtesy of our local travel agency, an all-expenses paid trip to *drumroll* England. I was studying in Ireland at the time, so really it was just a hop skip and a jump away, but I took it. And now here I was.

 When I finished, he nodded and helped me stand.

 “Beatrix, I wanted to tell you the truth about this place. Our patients are, not quite here nor there. Some of them are with us for only a night but some have stayed for the equivalent of years. When they are ready to move on they do, whether that means going back to their house… or going ‘home’. Every once in while someone with a physical form finds their way here and we care for them as we would anyone else. But only once in a blue moon can someone see the mask. That is how Lottie came to be here, Butch has his own story. But that’s why these little clinics began popping up all over. More and more of us came to be, and we wanted to help as best we could. There are more and more people not ready to leave this world, so we help encourage them along.’

 It all made an odd kind of sense, and it is vastly more comforting to think that one has stumbled onto something benevolent, and otherworldly. You know, as opposed to being trapped by a strange sadist wearing a bird mask.

 “So this means, I’m dead.”

 “Not quite. You aren’t…yet. You were supposed to proceed along as usual but you were so-“

 “If you say full of life I’m liable to punch you in the arm.”

 He flinched away with a laugh and held up his hands in defense.

 “Well you are, for lack of a better word. Your body wasn’t supposed to last much longer, it has been put through so much. But you just aren’t ready to be parted from it. Or this world. So we kept you alive, the only way we could and we planned to tell you when the time was right. I could tell you saw the mask the moment you saw me enter your room. I just wanted to give you some time before you had to decide”

 “How are you keeping me alive? Do I have to decide to die or-”

 A small chuckle, not sinister, just a bit of an “oh boy, you wouldn’t believe” sort of noise.

 “There is an energy that we use to stay here in between planes, it was given to me when I was dying to prolong my usefulness during a time of great need. But I never wanted to stop helping, and I adapted. It is ambient within this world and easy to find if you know where to look. It comes from love, from happiness, from the basic components of life itself.  That is what has been in your I.V, what causes my subdued glow, and your budding glow as well.”

 “So my decision, as it stands, is between allowing myself to die and possibly pass on, or staying here, helping other souls cross over, like glow worm Charon in scrubs?”

 I thought for a bit, as we continued to walk. But I stopped Elder when we reached the tree bearing his name.

 “So if I stay, Does this mean I have to wear the bird mask?’

 This time it was a full blown laugh, I’d even go so far as to say, a chortle.

 “Not unless you want to. When I passed into this state, this is how people who were purported to be healers often dressed. So I chose it, thinking anyone who saw this form would feel comforted by it. Times have changed of course, and I can make others see whatever they like, but I’ve gone so long without really changing that I don’t know what may lay beneath, if anything does. For all intents and purposes, this is my face now. Elder was not my name in life, I didn’t remember who I was. But I knew I wanted to help. You would look however you liked, most likely how you look right now, but maybe with less bruising. And you don’t have to wear scrubs or dresses or anything-‘

 He stuttered and corrected himself.

 “Well, I mean, you can wear anything you like. You don’t even have to help, I’d just… I’d like it if you stayed” The eyes went down, and the beak was perpendicular to he ground.

 ‘Lottie is lovely and kind and she has been here for decades now, and we get along just fine. But I can’t read Shakespeare with her, and she isn’t much for comedy. Though I don’t always understand yours, I like it, and I’d like it if you’d teach me more about it, and even about the world. Lottie can blend in with the crowd, but I never venture out if I don’t have to, I feel awkward and out of time.

 “Butch is a sweet man but he keeps to himself, goes to the cinema with Lottie, he likes going through the motions of being an out and about human. That’s fine and dandy for him, and I hope he enjoys every moment of it”

He took both my hands in his and we looked into each other’s eyes as best we could. In that moment I swore I could see proper blue eyes peeking back at me.

 “But you, Beatrix, you make me feel like I’m not alone. You are the first proper friend I’ve had since I still had my own face. I don’t want to force you to stay, I know you have others to see in whatever comes next, but I don’t want to lose my friend. That’s why I wanted to prolong your stay here. I feel guilty for not having told you sooner but-“

 I put two fingers, close as I could get, to where Elders mouth would have been.

 “Oh hush, you old crow. Of course, I’m staying. Gran would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t do what she raised me to. And even without Grans watchful eyes over my shoulder… I would never leave a friend behind.”

 I was promptly lifted and hugged so impossibly tight, and yet, as I hugged him back I didn’t feel a single twinge of pain. When he reluctantly set me down the bruises were gone. His glow was a bit brighter, and I felt brand new.

 “Well, now I suppose we must tell Lottie”

 A loud happy chortle floated down from the clinics back door.

 “I already know, you two lollygaggers. Now, come on. Doc, nurse trainee, we have two new patients who need processing, and someone has to help me.”

[doctornitrusbrio]

((this is EXTREMELY long winded and i don’t expect anyone at all to read it, or agree with all the shit in it, which is why it’s going in a post rather than as a permanent page on my blog, BUT. here’s my whole idea on what all Brio’s whole backstory is. it draws info from the design docs, and various pieces of lore throughout the series. obviously you don’t have to agree with anything posted here, but this is all the information i’m operating on when I write for Brio))

Brio grew up with a mom and dad who loved him very much and were super proud of him and his intellect. They were incredibly supportive of everything Brio did and wanted to see him go far in life. Because he was such a wiz kid, they enrolled him in high school when he was only 11. However, as fate would have it, Cortex happened to place himself at the same high school not too long after his family's circus "accident". Brio only being 11 and Cortex only being 6, they were both bullied a lot, but found companionship in each other. Brio was the one to initiate the friendship, he was incredibly eager to meet someone as smart as him (possibly smarter, since Cortex was even YOUNGER than Brio yet already at the same schooling level as him). Cortex definitely never had a friend before (for obvious reasons), but Brio didn't really have any friends either. He was considerably more mature than everyone his own age and older kids didn't really want to hang out with just some kid so Brio found himself alone a lot.

They were all each other had, but Cortex was definitely toxic in a lot of regards. He would go out of his way to isolate Brio, try to convince him that he was the only person Brio could trust, tried to make Brio hate humanity as much as he did. Near the end of the school year he finally managed to convince Brio to hatch a plan of revenge on their schoolmates with him. Brio (unknowingly at first) helped Cortex rig the school to explode.

After that Brio went into a panic, and Cortex convinced him that he can never go back to his family or home town again, because then they'd find out what he did to the school and he'd get arrested and there goes his whole future! So Brio stuck with Cortex. And together they skipped town. Until they found themselves at a new school: Madame Amberly's.

Brio didn't like the idea of going to an "evil" school, but Cortex convinced him that it was the only school that would accept him after what he did to his old school. And despite the atmosphere, it had a fairly decent curriculum. Having no where else to go, and with Cortex constantly manipulating him to stick around, Brio stayed with Cortex once again. At this point in his life he started experimenting more with mutagens, using them on himself to transition, and also toying with the idea of the evolvo ray. Which Cortex would "borrow" and use to experiment on his pets with.

After graduating Madame Amberly's both Brio and Cortex went off to college, each majoring in something different but still sticking with each other. As the years go on, Brio starts losing himself more and more. He gets so much more cold and emotionless, just coldly walking through life doing whatever Cortex tells him to. He still considers him a friend, and is even afraid of losing him at any point, but the years of constant abuse have started taking their toll (though he's probably not fully aware of it).

After graduation, they are finally full fledged scientists, and immediately Cortex has his sights set on getting revenge on the world. Brio has become a husk of his former self, almost blindly following Cortex, but even so this was just too much for him and he had to put his foot down. He didn't want world domination, he didn't want to make anyone suffer, he just wanted to be a scientist and maybe win a Nobel prize or something and be recognized for his achievement. And of course, this back talk super did not sit well with Cortex at all. Aaaaaand that's when it happened.

During an argument in their lab/workshop about whether of not Brio would help Cortex pursue world domination, Cortex gave him the ultimatum "If you're not with me, then you're against me" and grabbed him, overpowered him, and slammed his head onto a drill press and..... well you know.

After that, Brio never questioned Cortex again. Over the years Brio would go from considering him a friend, to only thinking of him as his boss.

From that point they traveled all around to different parts of the world. Not a single place accepting them or tolerating them. They were run out of pretty much every place they tried to set up shop, and Cortex would blow up most of these locations before leaving. And then of course they started attracting police attention from that, so they eventually fled to the Wumpa Islands where Cortex would finally put his evil schemes into motion.

Brio is put to work collecting animals for his former friend's plan, and getting the Evolvo Ray into working order. Things seem very bleak for him, until something happens.

Crash escapes, Cortex calls out his army to swarm the islands and crush him. Meanwhile, Brio is charged with watching over another mutant creation: Tawna. For some reason or another, Tawna took pity on Brio. Maybe she could see how much he was hurting, maybe she saw him as a weak point in Cortex's army that should could take advantage of. It might have been a mix of both. But whatever the reason, Tawna was one of the first people in literal decades to show Brio any kindness at all. She would try to explain to Brio that he didn't have to stay here working for Cortex, that he could escape with her and Crash. She tried to reason with him.

It took quite a while for Brio to take Tawna's words seriously, but at the defeat of Crash in his lab at Castle Cortex, he finally understood. He finally couldn't take it anymore. He finally knew it was time to get up and leave Cortex for good. But... not before setting the place on fire.

After fleeing Castle Cortex he was in a CONSTANT state of panic. He'd worked up all his courage and spite to finally get away from Cortex, but it was the absolute hardest thing in the world for him. Following Cortex was literally all he'd known his entire LIFE. He fled through the jungle and tried to hide out there for a few days, but... it didn't take long before he actually crawled his way back... to the remains of the lair. As fate would have it, no one was there anymore, and Brio was all by himself once again, he had no choice but to go on without Cortex now.

Eventually, Brio made himself a makeshift lab somewhere deep in the swamps of the jungle on N. Sanity Island. Using spare parts he salvaged from the old lair and broken Lab Assistants. Being free from Cortex was good for him, but it was also extremely hard to adjust to. He grew so bitter, so spiteful, he's finally realizing now just how much of his life he completely wasted. He can't go back to civilization, because the cops are most certainly still after him for helping Cortex blow all those locations up. So he stayed there, on the island, in his crummy little hide out. Until.............. his various lab equipment started picking up strange signals. he discovered Cortex was sending signals to crash from the safety of his orbitting space station. And Brio, after enduring so much shit, after going through so much, and not having anywhere else to go, stepped up to put a stop to this once and for all.

That's about where his story ends. Brio would go on to help Tropy and N. Gin in Twinsanity, but it was only a means to an end as he wanted that treasure because he's dirt poor. He attacked Crash because he saw that, once again, the boy was aligned with Cortex, and Brio couldn't have that. Aside from that, he is on good terms with the bandicoots, and occasionally steps forward to help them throw a wrench into Cortex's plans.

I also have this headcanon in here somewhere, when they were still blowing up every place they tried to settle in at. At one point Cortex tries to get Brio to blow one up. He's already planted the explosives and set everything up, all Brio has to do is press the button. He wants Brio to really know what it feels like to get revenge, to be a REAL villain. After some hesitation Brio does it, and he asks what town they just destroyed. And Cortex tells him it was Brio's home town, where his parents lived. So yeah, that's what happened to Brio's parents. Cortex thought that was hilarious.

[cerastes]

Something I wanted to ask you a few days ago but then you suddenly actually fucked off to the South Pole: Can I ask about your tabletop characters? I know there's Rasmus and a someone named Lisbeth, I think? Do you have more? I'm always up and eager to hear about fruits born from your disaster head.

I do not have more, it’s those two, my beautiful shit children. Rasmus is for my DnD game and Lisbeth is for my Fate Core game. It’d be A PLEASURE to regale you with The Lore:

If you’ve read my tabletop blogging posts, and you likely have given you’re asking about the good ol’ lovable Human Rogue, then you’re already somewhat familiar with Rasmus Kasper Istre. A 24 year old charlatan and swindler through and through, back in his port hometown, Rasmus was a notorious “fortune teller” that scammed many tourists and merchants, an act made easier by the innate superstitious nature of sailors, and while his daggers are sharp, it’s his creativity that cuts deeper, fighting being his very last option as he will always attempt to fool, sabotage and trick others first, only brandishing harm if there’s no other choice. In stark contrast with his enthusiasm when it comes to taking money from others, Rasmus is vehemently opposed to taking lives unless it’s on self-defense or if the one relinquishing their life deserves it, a philosophy he sticks to even if it bites him in the ass. This is, in fact, what triggers his escape from his town: He swindled the riches right out of a big-time Elf magnate, disabled his bodyguard that came gunning for him some time later and even had the perfect chance to off him, yet refused to do so because, as he learned during his time hiding from him, the magnate is actually a really honest if grumpy guy who treats his subordinates fairly and with love, and he’s not about to take that life, opting instead to hit the road. He used to dual wield daggers, but lost one of the daggers during a sky-high encounter with wyvern riders, using an enchanted gauntlet imbued with lightning in the spur of the moment to fight with fist and blade, and he liked how it worked out, so now he uses the lightning gauntlet to deliver close-range blasts and electric grapples with the left hand while his deft dagger whistles with each swipe and lunge of his right. To not inconvenience himself and others, he wears a half cape draped over his left arm so he can touch things and people without thundershocking them or having to remove the gauntlet and risk being ambushed (wearing a glove in the middle of a fight is kinda hard!). He loves wearing cologne, especially one made with ghostshroom extract that he makes himself. People hate the strong smell of it at first but it sort of grows into them like an acquired taste or Stockholm Syndrome, and his favorite foods are juniper berries and beef jerky. Rasmus is 177 centimeters tall, has curly light brown hair, dull green eyes, wears his beard as a stubble, and has an average, fit build. Do NOT call him “Kasper” unless you’re in the mood for a bar fight. Mostly wears leather armor and has a thing for the color green.

Rasmus is childhood friends with Claudia, the party’s Human Wizard, and the two often snipe at each other with affectionate vitriol, although their attempts to screw the other over with money are very real. No hard feelings, though, that’s what it meant to grow poor in a port town, it’s your fault if something is taken from you. He doesn’t always see eye to eye with the Halfling Ranger (Ranger is rather kill-happy, which doesn’t sit well with Rasmus), and is buddy-buddy with the Orc Barbarian, especially when brothels and taverns are concerned. He currently is invested in helping the Orc Barbarian with his character arc whenever he can, as well as furthering his own Money Quest after accidentally starting a religion, the Solar Sect (it’s a long story). After enough deeds, the party received the blessings from Phantom Animal Lords from the wilderness, with Rasmus’ title being “Rabbit”; This is an inside joke referring to how my DM and the rest of my DnD group call Rasmus “Bugs Bunny” due to his trademark outlandish and creative ways of setting up the board to the party’s advantage and problem solving. Among his faithful, he is known as the Augur-spoken Prophet, and it’s really, really spiraling out of control. Initially, Rasmus and Claudia were supposed to hate each other, but Claudia’s player and I, IRL friends since a long time now, decided to make them shitlord friends instead. We were very involved with the creation of both characters and develop them continuously together now. Check the “Rasmus” tag in my blog for more anecdotes of his balls to the walls DnDventures.

Some of his deeds include:

Killing a seemingly unkillable hero by teleporting him high into the sky and letting gravity do the work, using a circumstantial item.

Strapping the corpse of said unkillable hero to a greatshield and creating an extremely powerful shield for our Barbarian to use whenever we need some nigh invulnerability.

Accidentally started a religion when he was accused of high heresy because he defiled the corpse of a hero by turning him into a shield.

Flirting with an Elf Priestess that turned out to be the magnate’s niece.

Flirting with her further anyway.

Naked Parkour in the Elf capital.

Wrapped his phony crystal ball with a chain and used it as an impromptu weapon after being disarmed, cracking a Chaos Dwarf’s skull with a nat 20 swing.

Earned the ‘Rabbit’ title, which apparently only happens once around every 3000 years, as the Rabbit Phantom Animal Lord is capricious and her favor only goes to those cheeky and cunning enough to both amuse her and impress her. Of all those, he’s apparently the second Human to ever have earned the title. Rasmus wears it with pride.

–

The other is Lisbeth Elstad. Now, you’re no doubt thinking to yourself “Wow! No one has a name like that!” And you’re right! Consider that a stage name, or a pseudonym, if you will. In a setting that takes place in the real world after magic and everything from beyond turned out to be real and has suddenly become widespread public knowledge, 19 year old Lisbeth is incredibly inept at even the most basic magic tasks with two exceptions: Mana Layering, the act of creating sheets, layers, and shells of mana, and Alchemy, the ability to turn one thing into another through meticulous formulas and the Law of Equivalent Exchange. In addition to this narrow scope, Lisbeth has always found it oddly easy when it comes to assembling explosives ranging from homebrew fireworks to high-yield plastic explosive custom formulas such as batches of SEMTEX and C4. Finally, Lisbeth is a natural woman of science, a passionate love for biology, physics and chemistry pulsating within her noodle, unfit body. You could say she’s a Human Alchemist/Bombardier of some sort, but her most heartfelt wish is to become a doctor and pharmaceutic. Now, this probably paints the image of a kind, earnest girl that just wants to help out with a smile, right? Well! That’s not quite it! As noble as she sounds, Lisbeth is quite the thug otherwise. Think of her less as a friendly doctor in the making and more of a really shady back alley doc that looks like she came right out of a The Misfits music video. She tries, oh, lord she does, to come across as classy, eloquent, and elegant, but no matter how much Calvin Klein “One” you spray on a rabid boar, it is still a rabid boar, and as soon as her very little threshold of patience is usurped, the elegant business front crumbles and the reality of a violent, easily angered busybody who happily solves her problems with rocks to the back of the head and high yield explosives lays bare. She’s the foster daughter of a famous nomadic mercenary leader known as the Mercury Witch, leader of the White Silhouette, and worked on board their craft as assistant doctor, with the Witch forbidding Lisbeth of taking part on any training that might foster her latent violent tendencies in hopes of mellowing her out. One day, however, they took on a job in which Lisbeth and her mentor, Melicia, ended up unwittingly making REALLY Bad Drugs instead of the Good Medicine they thought they were making for supernatural creatures, Lisbeth found out, they found out she found out, shit hit the fan, everyone’s MIA.

Not much to say about her yet otherwise, as the game is still in its preliminary phase. Instead, I can tell you about the scrapped 27 year old version of Lisbeth that I heavily modified after we discussed things and realized I had to make her much younger for it to make sense with certain aspects of the plot. This version of Lisbeth is still very much the same in terms of abilities, but has quit the White Silhouette on her own terms and roams around as a masked vigilante that aids supernatural beings oppressed by humans and as a doctor that helps supernatural beings for free. Most of her time is devoted to finding locations that traffic supernaturals or pits them in underground arena fights and dismantles them with the superior firepower and flair of plastic explosives and some good ol’ infiltration. During her time in France, she was suddenly attacked by a girl in traditional Japanese priestess attire, inciting what nearly was a deathmatch between the two of them. As the mystery girl realized Lisbeth wasn’t her target, however, she immediately stopped and apologized. The girl, named Yamaoka Keiko, is a prophet and descendant of the Blind Dragons who could see the future. The problem, she explained, was that her eyes were stolen and replaced with ones that can see, and she hates it. She’s looking for whoever it is stole her blind, silver eyes to claim them back and go back to her peaceful, beloved life of comfortable darkness and peace back in her shrine. Lisbeth, however, seems to have a clue about who it could be that can steal and switch something like eyes without any difficulty, and believing this to be fate as well as her responsibility indirectly, offers to travel with Keiko in search for her eyes. The two become good friends over the course of 18 months of traveling together in this adventure, but Keiko takes an extremely grave wound one day and is left unable to move for a good while, even with all of Lisbeth’s medical knowledge. Finding herself alone and unsure of Keiko’s future, Lisbeth decides to join the official magic law enforcement outfit that she hates in order to gain access to their information network. I’ll probably use this version of Lisbeth for other things, since I don’t wanna scrap it, bwahaha, probably with Glock Elf and TechSlime (and same with Keiko).

Regardless of her version, Lisbeth has an intravenous hose installed inside of her arms that leads to a “cauldron” in her torso, utilizing “internal alchemy” to transform proteins and cells into other chemicals, which she then expels through holes on the palms of her hands. This way, she can spray, say, napalm out of her hands. Since she has absolutely no competence at all in the art of magic but has an innate talent when it comes to chemistry and alchemy, she instead “fakes” magic by creating concoctions with her knowledge. Lisbeth stands at 176 centimeters, has a lanky, thin physique, and wears silver contacts (which is why Keiko thought she had her eyes) and hair dyed a very light creamy blonde. She wears classy suits and long-skirted jumper dresses for the most part, with an Orthrus (two-headed wolf) pelt draped over her shoulders, both heads dangling off her left shoulder. Her choice of attire and appearance, much like her pseudonym, are all part of her “business front”. Despite her bluster, she’s rather cowardly, but also extremely resolute. Lisbeth is the kind of character that would usually be the NPC Shopkeeper that sells you potions and charges you a small fee to fully heal your party, but circumstance has thrown her right into the adventurer’s shoes, and now she has to deal with it crying, screaming, and complaining, but hey, at least she gets to put her knowledge of bombs to good use!

[krankittoeleven]

3, 17, 28 for 'the questions for writers'? 🖋

Thanks for the ask! :)

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

Oh gawd. I don't really have one. Sometimes I will say I'm gonna write and i sit down and just write and sometimes I say I'm gonna write and then I make breakfast and watch a youtube video, then listen to some music while scrolling through Tumblr and then I work on some world building for a different fic than the one I was intending to work on and then i scroll through tumblr and then I stare at google doc for awhile until I realize its lunch time and then I make lunch...I'm sure you can see where that is going. And it's definitely cursed. LOL

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

Oh boy.  I have like 7 WIPS. :D  Hmm...a lot of them have twists that I don’t want to hint at or spoil so...let’s see...Since you are a fallout fan I’ll roll with my as yet unnamed Sole Survivor/Hancock fic (its tentatively named Pickman’s Better Model, but not sure if I’m sticking with that) in which Sole is tasked with bringing Hancock to meet Richard Pickman after he investigates Pickman Gallery.  As a big Lovecraft fan I’m totally in love with all of the Lovecraft references in FO4, and I really wanted to write something that involves them.  And then I decided that since in the canon of Lovecraft’s story Pickman’s Model, Pickman is obsessed with ghouls, it would be kind of funny but also rather fitting if in the FO4 canon Pickman became obsessed with ghouls because of Hancock and his transformation into a ghoul, primarily because Pickman also wants to become a ghoul, but being the educated sort of man he is he is looking for a “better” way than just hoping for the best with a bunch of radiation in his face.  It’s really more of a pre-relationship kind of fic, where Sole and Hancock are getting to know each other more and they are both kind of awkward and snarky with each other but by the end they have moved to a bit more comfortable and snarky with each other.  As for things that won’t make it in, I'm waffling on a dumb running joke in the story in which Hancock keeps calling Sole “smoothie” and Sole being who he is and coming from where he comes from keeps thinking he means smoothie like the drink, but Hancock means smoothie because he has smooth skin and eventually Sole just explodes because he just doesn’t understand the connection and Hancock explains it to him very slowly and with maybe some touching xD  

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

My current-ish (we are on hiatus) DnD character, a non-binary dwarf warlock who worships Nyarlothotep and is currently possessed by the spirits of Sindri and Brok from Norse mythology is a delight to play and write silly things for. They are one of the few of my OCs that I've ever really been attached to, probably because the are just unhinged and cracked and it's a lot of fun. And it's helpful that my DM let me go off on writing the backstory and some of the events that happen.

Ask me writing questions!

[lunafeather]

You ain’t gonna watch the show over a personal decision from Shamier to leave? I’m sorry but read the interview Shamier wanted the heroic death and to leave because he had better opportunities. Don’t blame the show for that

You bet your ass I’m gonna stop watching. It’s admirable that Andras wanted to honor Shamier’s wishes but she should ALSO be aware of the common and disgusting trope of characters of color being the ones to die, while everyone’s white faves *cough Doc and Wayhaught cough* get a free pass and a guarantee to survive til the end.

She had the power to override Shamier’s wishes and she should have used that power. She has created and built a vast universe full of lore that easily could have explained away his leaving the show.

Instead she shoehorned in a lame “he was sick and dying this whole time” schtick, ignored the absolute depth of his and Wynonna’s relationship (he didn’t even get a goodbye kiss?? He didn’t get to tell her how he really felt about her?? We never got a fucking I Love You, even though he was LITERALLY DYING AND THIS WAS THEIR LAST CHANCE?????), and threw away all the potential his character had.

She had TWO SEASONS to explore Dolls’ past and his relationships and she completely ignored both the entire time. We know literally nothing about what he is, how he got that way, or what happened to him before he arrived in Purgatory. She wasted him as a character.

She also had the chance to embrace her lead Man of Color and how soft, gentle, and kind he was, as well as one of the only interracial relationships on television right now. Instead she forced us to sit through a lame love triangle that she insisted wasn’t actually a triangle while shoving Doc down our throats and barely having Dolls on screen.

I am absolutely THRILLED for Shamier, and I am endlessly excited to follow his career – and I very honestly hope to act opposite him and his talent someday. And while he wanted Dolls to go out heroically, he also wished the show would have explored all the things I listed above – and nothing will convince me he isn’t a little bitter he didn’t get to. I would be.

As an aside, if you read my blog you’ll see that I decided to stop watching this show a long time ago. With the way Andras treated her characters of color last season – Shamier/Dolls being sidelined/getting no screen time/being repeatedly led on by Wynonna; writing the two timing/betraying/sneaky Latinx stereotype specifically for one of the only Latinx actors in Canada and unceremoniously punting her from the show after having her lure the darling baby girl of the show from her gf AND GETTING BRUTALLY MURDERED; and treating Jeremy (a gay man of color) like a lost puppy dog joke – I lost all trust in her and the writers of this show. I have had a feeling for a while now that she would either make Dolls evil or kill him, and I was right.

He was my favorite character and one of the main reasons I watched the show. It is not worth it to watch the show without him.