#i wanted to make an actually cool fanfic masterpost thing but then i looked at how varied the things i have written are that i was just lik | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quaranmine · 3 years ago

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How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Eleven; FINAL)

It's time to go home.

Masterpost | Chapter Ten

Words: 6501

First of all, thank you SO much for reading. But not just that, thank you to everyone who followed along and endured my word count posts for over two months as well. I feel exceptionally proud to have finished this project, and I'm really grateful for the positive feedback I've received. There is more details in the AO3 end notes, but I also wanted to add in this note that there will be a sequel to this fanfic, although I can't say when it will come out. Thank you, everyone <3

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Grian gave them a short explanation anyway. Not of the trauma or the bad things about the Watchers or his history with them just . . . what they were. Mumbo stared at him with a look that said you don’t have to do this, you know that right? and Grian was grateful, but he just needed them to know something. Because of what he was going to do next.

They’d all discarded their helmets at this point. No point in wearing them in the room. Pearl worked quietly with Impulse’s the whole time, looking for that pesky leak in the event that they might need to wear the helmets again. Or maybe she just wanted something to do with her hands to distract her. With her brow furrowed and tongue stuck partially out, one might make this mistake of thinking she wasn’t listening, but Grian knew better. She simply knew this story already.

“Can you get us out?” Impulse asked.

Grian looked up, and met eyes with Mumbo. “I think so,” he said. “I have a plan, but I’ve never done it with more than one person.”

“What is it?” Scar asked, and Grian knew he wouldn’t have to worry about Scar’s faith wavering in him at all. Scar, who didn’t know a thing about the Watchers but thought Grian was now officially the coolest person he’d ever seen–Grian was sure this idea of his coolness would vanish the moment he made another stupid joke or pranked Scar again, but for now it just made him feel warm.

“Watchers can walk between worlds,” he started.

“That’s where we are, yeah?” Pearl asked, not looking up from her work. “You said the void was between worlds.”

“It is, yeah,” said Grian. “In fact, many Watchers utilize the void a lot. Some even live out here, but I don’t really know how they do that, ‘cause it always just seems to want to kill me.”

“You know,” Mumbo said with amusement, “whenever you tell me about the Watchers, it’s always about how you don’t know how to do something the others could.”

Grian huffed and crossed his arms. “Watchers train for, like, forever. I didn’t have time for that, obviously. I ran away before I got a chance to figure all of that stuff out!”

“You were in training,” Scar said. “Oh my god, you were their intern! Hey, can you do that glowy thing with your hands and Watcher-me-up some coffee?”

“I saved you from this void, and I can put you back in it, Scar.” Grian fixed him with a glare. “I was not their intern, they let me do things by myself. I know how to use all my powers. I just wasn’t practiced enough to do all the super complicated things.”

“So you were an entry-level employee,” Impulse said.

“. . . Sure. Yeah, whatever. If Watcher society was an office I guess.”

“We were discussing ways to leave this place?” Pearl prompted.

“Right,” Grian said. “Watchers can server hop without admin approval by walking between worlds. It uh . . . helps them watch all the places they need to. So maybe I could . . . server hop with all of us into a new world.”

“Would it work?” Scar asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Grian. “I’ve only used it on myself. It’s how Watchers move from server to server. It’s how I found Hermitcraft, actually, but that’s a story for another day. I, uh–taught Mumbo how, recently, but he also used it on just himself. I don’t know if it’s even possible to open a path for more than one person. If it is, I don’t know if it’s possible for someone who isn’t a Watcher to traverse that path.” He gave Mumbo a look. “I need your help on this.”

“Oh! Right, erm . . .” Mumbo said. “Just like with MCC, yeah? That went well, I guess, I wouldn't call myself an expert at it by any means, but I only had one major mishap on the way, and well I am actually a little scared of it, but . . .”

“Mumbo,” Grian said, cutting him off. “We don’t have a choice. We have to try or else we’ll just die out here in the void. We need a new world. And we share a power, so I need you to try for me.”

We have to try, because we can’t stay here. We could run out of air in this stupid bedrock box if whatever’s filling it stops. The void could prove to be infinite, and we could be falling forever. I could get too tired and my grip on this sanctuary could slip, because that’s happened before and you were hurt then, Mumbo, and I can’t let that happen again.

Mumbo nodded. His eyes were wide but his jaw was set in determination.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Impulse said. He glanced at the rest of them, with a nervous smile. “Call me petty, but I almost died here once and I don’t plan on dying here again.”

“Do we agree?” asked Grian, looking around at his friends. “Are we trying this? I can’t guarantee your safety. But it’s a chance.”

One by one, the rest of Boatem nodded.

“Well,” he said, “Let’s go.”

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Server-hopping, especially to an unknown or random location, took a great deal more creativity than one may assume. You were opening a doorway between worlds, but if an admin’s portal was the grand front doors on a mansion, a Watcher’s portal was the disused staff entrance in the back that led to a maze of rooms and hallways. Dusty, confusing, and with the perpetual chance that the door might be rusted shut and you’d have to climb in a window or something.

Just like all navigation, it was easiest if you had a map or an address. Mumbo had been able to find MCC quite easily since Grian had provided the address; Grian, when assigned places by the Watchers, had also normally known where his destination was. But nobody back on Hermitcraft had agreed upon a meeting place before they all scattered to the winds fleeing the moon. So now? They were striking off into the unknown.

Grian had done that once before–when he’d run from the Watchers, he had been too panicked to put any care into his routes. He knew his destination: Evo. Home. And when he arrived and found it empty, he disappeared back into those pathways between worlds and opened doors at random. He didn’t have anywhere else left to go back to. He didn’t care where he went either, just so long as it was away from the Watchers.

It’d been sheer luck that he found a place as good as Hermitcraft, that he’d found the server Mumbo was from, that he’d found a place that let him stay.

He hoped they’d get so lucky this time around too.

Grian quietly briefed Mumbo on their plans while the others gathered their things. It wasn’t like they had much to gather, though–they planned on leaving the helmets behind because they were too clunky to carry and wouldn’t save their lives anyway. It was mostly an exercise in self preparation, but pretending to make sure everyone had their supplies made it feel more important and less personal.

As for Mumbo, he’d been given an important task: keep the pathway stable. “Are you sure I can do that?” he asked. “That seems, well, rather important.”

“I have to be able to focus energy into connecting our pathway to a new world, and choosing the world. You have half my powers–you’re not experienced in it, sure, but you have the innate ability.”

Mumbo sighed. “You know, I can’t help but think we got the short end of the stick with this whole sharing thing. Why couldn’t the stupid soul stealing thing have just duplicated the souls instead of making us share one? Then we’d have double the power. It’s a bit pants, innit?”

“Mumbo,” Grian said, “the only thing scarier than you casually walking around with Watcher powers would be you walking around with double the amount of Watcher powers.”

“Yeah, but I’d be able to make a pretty sweet pathway with it all, wouldn’t I?”

“Just keep it from collapsing, please.”

He took a deep breath and tried to steady his heart, which beat a little too rapidly and loudly inside his ears. He wanted to say he was confident in his abilities, that he was well practiced and knew that he wasn’t just leading his friends off into potential death. But these powers, despite belonging to him, had never truly felt like they were his, and he questioned the control he had over them.

Too human to be a Watcher. Too Watcher to be a human.

“Hey,” Scar said, as they all gathered by the entrance. “So maybe I should have mentioned this earlier, since carrying five people through the void is apparently a pretty big deal, but uh . . . there’s six of us? I hope you can accommodate that.”

“What.” Pearl’s voice was deadpan.

From somewhere, as if summoned by Scar’s voice, a cat meowed. Scar unzipped the top part of his suit, revealing two little grey striped triangle ears, and a round oval face that swiveled around to look at them with slightly bored and judgemental green eyes.

“You brought JELLIE?” Impulse exclaimed. “Has she been in there this whole time? Where on earth were you even keeping her?”

“Oh, she was sleeping against my chest,” Scar said. “I made my suit so it had a little spot for her. She normally wouldn’t like being trapped like that–she’s a bit of a free spirit, you know–but she was more than willing to stay put in order to evacuate. Animals are great at sensing when something is wrong, I’ve heard.”

“Scar,” Impulse said, “the moon took up half the sky. Everyone knew something was wrong, not just your cat.”

Grian just stared, speechless. Scar and that cat, always. Even when left behind on another world, she somehow always found her way back to Scar each and every time. Nobody really understood how, except that Jellie was possibly more than just a cat, and Scar was her person, and she’d cross different worlds to find her way back to him. It was really quite sweet.

Grian’s incredulousness gradually morphed into absurdity, and then into hilarity. Scar gave him a concerned look, and Jellie somehow matched the exact same look in a grumpier way, and it was like a dam in Grian broke and let out a rush of emotion that swept him off his feet. He started hysterically laughing.

“Are you alright there, G?” Pearl asked.

He wiped tears from his eyes. “It’s just- the cat, and Scar, and . . .” He couldn’t finish his sentence before another fit of laughter overtook him. It was just so Scar. And it was all of them, and it was the danger they were in, and it was how they were standing in a circle where Grian could reach out and touch any one of them right now if he needed to, and it was how they could all lose each other forever in the next few minutes, and it was about how preposterous it sounded that the moon fell out of the sky and they fell into the void and now Scar’s brought his cat along for the ride.

Mumbo started laughing too. Did he feel it too, because Grian was feeling it? The worry? The nerves? The love?

“Scar’s been carrying a cat in a swaddle like a baby for, like, a few hours now,” Mumbo snickered.

“Jellie is definitely smarter than some baby,” Scar pouted. “I just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t cause problems for our void-walking thing!”

Grian took a deep breath and steadied himself. “It’ll be fine, Scar. If a cat was going to cause us to fail we’d probably have failed anyway.” He gave Jellie a serious look. She yawned. “You better behave, though. No distractions.”

“Jellie is an angel,” Scar said, with the air of a man who was lying through his teeth about a lifetime of knocked over vases and scratched up curtains and mysteriously missing pesky birds, “she will be perfect.”

Grian threw his hands up. “Alright, alright. Does anyone else have any other random pets hiding in their clothing?”

Pearl raised her hand.

“Pearl???” Impulse cried.

She lowered it and started giggling. “No, no, I’m just joking,” she said. “I don’t have anything. I’m ready.” She winked at Grian. “You know I could have been hiding something though, don’t lie.”

“So then . . . are we ready?” Mumbo asked. He was quiet, standing next to Grian, wearing an expression of concentration on his face normally only reserved for particularly difficult redstone builds.

“I think we are,” Pearl said.

Summoning the path was predictably hard, splitting his attention between holding the room they were presently in, and making the portal. He found himself pushing most of the weight of the bedrock room off onto Mumbo, who took the burden gladly.

A door swung open in the corner, made of dark oak.

Pathways could resemble whatever you wanted–a void, a tunnel, a rift. A standard purple portal was the most basic default option. But Grian was trying to take them all home, and thus the door beckoned.

“That’s our exit,” he said, before sizing the rest of them up. “I will go in first, and make sure it’s stable, and then I’ll lead the way. Pearl, Scar, Impulse–please follow. Mumbo, I need you to follow behind. It’s very important. You need to keep the room in place until we’re all out.” Mumbo nodded, eyes solemn.

Grian stepped through the door, testing the waters. In these back alleys between worlds, the path wasn’t totally clear. His boots met ground that he couldn’t see, sinking a bit like mud. He recalled the void rooms that he had so much fun making back in season six. The pathway was a bit like those, but instead of blank white walls there was just endless blackness. Unlike the void, however, which was populated with a myriad of twinkling little purple and teal lights, this place held nothing. Just total darkness.

“It’s safe,” he said. “Follow me in.”

The other trailed quietly behind him, eyes serious and footsteps careful. Grian didn’t say anything, but he was happy to see that they all seemed to be able to breathe in here just fine. Mumbo stepped in last, closing the door behind them with a decisive click. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the soft purple glow from Mumbo and Grian that was their only illumination.

“I’m letting the void room go,” said Mumbo. “We don’t need it anymore.” Instantly, Grian felt the difference in their shared burden. Mumbo picked up the slack on the pathway immediately after. He was getting good at following Grian’s cues; this power, unlike the flying or watching, was incredibly mental and required a lot of strength. The soul connection was helping them, allowing Mumbo to copy Grian’s actions as they went.

“Where did the void room go?” Impulse said.

“It never really existed in the first place,” Grian replied. “It wasn’t made of real objects. Just the thought of them.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s go. No need to waste our time here. Follow me exactly.”

They walked from some time, Grian occasionally turning or guiding their paths gently. He didn’t really know how he knew where to go, but there were places he instinctively knew to avoid, where they needed to turn or else risk stepping off the edge into the abyss.

“There’s a door up there,” Scar said. “Is that where we’re going?”

“No,” Grian said.

“Why not?”

“There’s many worlds to pick from. 2^64, actually, which is like 18 quintillion. We shouldn’t go to all of them, though we might stumble across their doors. Some might be corrupted like ours was, or stuck in the past on an unstable version of reality. Some might be occupied, and if our arrival doesn’t cause any instability in the server, we might not be welcome anyway. Some worlds might be hostile. We’d do best to choose one that’s empty.”

Scar eyed the door as they passed it. Its paint, once a deep blue with gold accents, was now chipped. Its hinges were rusty, but it seemed well used. “And is this one . . . hostile?” he asked.

“I just don’t think we belong in there,” Grian said darkly. “Let’s keep going.”

They kept moving, past more doors and openings to servers. None of them satisfied Grian. He moved quickly–they couldn’t afford to be in here longer than necessary, especially as with each step he could feel exhaustion weighing down on him more and more–but he also moved carefully. What’s that saying? “Measure twice, cut once”? They didn’t have room for error if Grian chose badly.

He thought about the last time he’d used these passageways when running from the Watchers. He hadn’t moved so carefully or so purposefully. He’d been a total wreck, paranoid that around every turn he’d get caught. He chose the server he planned to flee to recklessly.

He might never have met some of the people behind him, if that didn’t happen. Oh, Pearl and Mumbo he had known, but Scar? Impulse? He thought about Hermitcraft and his heart twisted. They’d escaped with their own, Boatem, but when they split up they left so many others behind.

They weren’t any less his friends than Boatem was. He missed them fiercely, and the feeling settled in the back of his throat, nearly choking him. He just hoped that from a stable server, they could begin the process of trying to contact everyone else again.

He first became aware of trouble as they rounded a corner and he felt a slipping feeling in his mind. Though he kept his footing on the physical plane, it felt like wearing socks on a polished floor, just a moment of instability before Grian pulled them back up with no small amount of exertion.

“Mumbo,” he said. “How are you doing?”

He was tired. And if he knew he was, he knew Mumbo was.

“I’m fine,” Mumbo said, at the exact moment his foot slipped and he fell flat on his face.

Pearl rushed to help him up, asking if he was alright. “I’m fi-” he started to repeat, before cutting himself off. “My foot’s stuck,” he said, pulling at it. The floor, which had seemed featureless just a moment ago, was sticky, pulling onto Mumbo’s feet and holding them there.

“Is it just me,” Impulse started, “or does it seem harder to walk now?”

“The tunnel,” Grian realized. “It’s becoming more unstable. We need to go fast.” It was too much. They had too many people in here, and Grian didn’t know if he and Mumbo were strong enough to hold them all safely.

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo said, “I’m trying, I’m just tired, I feel like there’s this big weight on me. Like I’m pushing something back but the weight of it is crushing me.”

“Let me help you,” Pearl said, and with a momentous effort, yanked Mumbo by the arms until he became unstuck. “Lean on me.” She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped him move on.

The path felt more hazardous now. Some of the doors they passed seemed to flicker in and out, tenuously connected to their reality. This wasn’t a good sign. Grian needed to find them a place immediately. He could already feel the bone deep exhaustion wearing on him, how every step felt harder than the last. It felt like they’d been wandering this maze for hours, but it was likely only a few minutes.

“Grian,” Mumbo murmured, “I don’t think I can keep going.”

Grian reached for the next door he saw, pulling it closer and firmly rooting it in reality. It was made of birch, smooth and new. It was a blank world with no inhabitants. He couldn’t see what it looked like, or what its address was, but they’d officially run out of time to look.

“Is this it?” Scar said.

“We have to get out of here,” Grian said. “This will do.” He opened it, persuading that reality to line up with theirs. Like stepping from a boat to a dock, they were temporarily tied in.

The sky was, rather alarmingly, blue. Grian supposed he should be grateful for that, or perhaps even comforted, but after hours of adjusting to dim lighting and the endless blackness that surrounded him, it just felt garish and assaulting.

“I need to stay here to keep the door open,” Grian said. “You all go. I’ll go last.”

The Boatem members all glanced at each other. This was just another step into the unknown, but they’d made many of those in the past day. This one signaled safety though.

Scar went first, stepping through with his head held high and an arm on his chest supporting Jellie. Impulse followed, and then Pearl. Then it was just him and Mumbo.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Mumbo nodded, arm slung around his shoulders.

“Let’s go,” Mumbo said.

Together, they stepped through into the brightness, and as soon as they stepped beyond the threshold of the door, they released their claim on the passageway between worlds.

The next thing he remembers is falling and falling, tangled up with Mumbo, and then landing roughly in a path of gravel. It felt hot from the sun and he scrunched up his eyes at where it was poking him in the face. His feet were tangled in someone else’s and he could hear somebody talking, but they sounded far away.

He breathed in deeply, smelling the sharp fresh scent of water and tree sap, and felt the harsh sun beating down on his back. He wasn’t in the void anywhere. He was on land. Stable land, unmoving below his body, and not at the risk of disintegrating underneath him. Exhaustion slammed into Grian like a sledgehammer and he nearly felt like he was falling again, precipitously. An adrenaline crash. He couldn’t focus on the voices speaking anymore.

They were safe now. He could rest.

He closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the exhaustion.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

When he awoke, the sun was lower in the sky and he was in the shade. Someone had built a canopy over his head out of plain planks. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking stock of himself. Someone had also taken him out of his crash test dummy suit, and his wings were back out again, resting. There was not, however, a bed.

“I’m sorry,” Impulse said from somewhere behind him. “I couldn’t find any wool.”

Grian nodded silently. Honestly, the gravel hadn’t been half bad, except for the marks it left on his face. One doesn’t know how much they take solid ground for granted until it’s taken from you. Even sleeping on rocks felt like a luxury.

“How long has it been?” Grian asked, voice scratchy. Impulse handed him a water bottle, which he took gratefully.

“Just a few hours. Mumbo was asleep too, but he woke up about half an hour ago and went off to explore the woods. You two seemed pretty tired. Honestly, Scar was afraid you might be dead, but once we realized you were just asleep we decided to let you. We don’t have much of anything so far, we just collected some wood and necessities.”

Grian stretched out his wings, feeling the joints ache. Thinking he might be dead probably explained why he was out of his suit; they’d have wanted to make sure he wasn’t injured when he didn’t wake up. “Where are we?”

“Some new world,” Impulse said. “Whatever you and Mumbo did, it worked.”

Grian stood up, and wandered to the edge of the small little canopy. They were on the edge of a wide river with a stone and gravel bank. A birch forest surrounded them. But what really caught his eye were the mountains surrounding them, towering higher than he thought possible.

“It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” Impulse said. “You sure picked a good one.”

“I picked it blindly,” he said. “We just needed to get out of there.”

Impulse put a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “You did good.” Withdrawing his hand, he went over to some furnaces a little further away and began fiddling with them.

Grian sat on the edge of the riverbank for a while, watching how the water rippled at the edge of the stones. He felt like maybe he should be helping, or doing much of anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up to do so. So he just sat, and stared.

He heard voices behind him after a bit. Must be Pearl, Scar, and Mumbo returning from wherever they had been off too. “Oh, Grian’s awake!” Scar called.

The other dropped some things off haphazardly into a few chests that were lying around. It was mostly wood, saplings, and other odds and ends. Mumbo dropped a handful of apples in the corner for them. Pearl dropped a stack of logs. “I figured we could build a fire tonight,” she said. “Keep mobs away.”

“Griannnnnnn,” Scar whined, “Mumbo tried to kill me earlier!”

“Did not!” Mumbo defended. “That, my friend, was an accident.”

“You literally said it would be ‘so easy to push me off the edge’, and then you pushed me off the edge into a cave.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so pushable. Have you tried that, Scar? Not being so pushable?”

“I found a woodland mansion,” Pearl said, breaking in between Scar and Mumbo. “Not very far from here. I didn’t venture inside, though. But that could be the source of some early supplies if we ever want to make an effort to clear it.”

“Let’s at least get some weapons before we try that,” Impulse said.

They began to get to work, preparing for the evening. They didn’t have shelter yet, but the little stone beach felt oddly protected. Someone handed Grian some coal and sticks, and he got to work crafting torches to be placed in the area to light it up.

As the sun began to set, Pearl stirred the small campfire she had made for them. They’d eaten fish from the lake and grilled it over the fire and then huddled around the fire. It wasn’t that cold outside, but the fire was warm and satisfying and tangible in a way the void hadn’t been.

They chatted, about how cute Jellie looked curled up on one of the crash test suits, or about the massive cave Scar had found semi-accidentally when Mumbo pushed him into a hole. Laced through the conversation was a feeling of unease. It didn’t take a genius to piece together what it was. Grian felt it. Everyone else felt it. Nobody said anything; they just redirected the conversation.

Slowly, as they spoke, the moon rose over the valley, pretty white light reflecting on the river. It was full. Grian wished it was a new moon so he didn’t have to look at it.

“It’s small,” Pearl said finally, quietly.

“It feels too small,” Mumbo said. “Like, this doesn’t feel normal either. Obviously it was too big before, but now it’s just . . . small.”

“It looks fake,” Grian said. “Like a toy someone threw up into the sky and left there.”

“Moon’s a scam,” Scar said. “It’s not real. Who needs the moon? Not us.”

“Did you just decide that?” Mumbo asked.

“Yep. Moon’s a scam.”

“What if it gets bigger again?” Impulse asked quietly. “I don’t trust it.”

“Then I’ll just . . . I’ll keep an eye on it,” Grian said. He could keep measuring it.

“Well, you sure have enough of those,” Pearl said amusedly.

“Yeah,” Scar said. “Speaking of, where’s all your . . . “ he trailed off, gesturing around his head.

“I choose to look like this instead,” Grian said simply.

“We don’t use the Watching powers all the time,” Mumbo said. “It’s like, an on/off switch? Grian told me that using certain powers will make us always look like that, but when we aren’t actively using it we have a degree of control for what we appear like.”

Grian’s mind flickered over the words Mumbo used. We. Us.

He didn’t mind it.

Scar nodded, looking satisfied. “That’s really cool.”

They all stared at the moon once more. The firelight flickered across their faces. They looked tired, Grian noted. They all looked tired. How long had they been awake? It was nighttime when they evacuated and now it’s nighttime again. Only Grian and Mumbo had slept at all, and it had been more of a crash than a restful night’s sleep. The night was pleasantly warm, with a light breeze that blew the crisp smell of the nearby forest to him.

It seemed like a nice world, one that wasn’t trying to actively kill them. The ground hadn’t shaken once since they’d arrived. The moon was small like it was supposed to be. No blocks were floating randomly, and gravity had remained normal the entire time.Grian felt like his standards for a world these days were pretty low–you mean the ground isn’t tearing itself apart below his feet? Wow, just like paradise!

Its beauty was still breathtaking though, with the white-capped peaks and huge river. Grian was numb to it; the beauty seemed like a farce, and if he let his guard down for even just a moment it might all come tumbling down on them again.

If it was such a nice world, why did he feel so bad?

It was just too empty.

“We have to find the others,” Impulse said, staring into the fire and reading Grian’s mind. “We have to find a way to contact them all again. Do we have a meeting spot? Where do we go? Did they all get out?”

Nobody really wanted to answer that last question. Nobody wanted to think about the implications that maybe they lost anyone. That in splitting up, some of them hadn’t made it out. Not everyone had even been present during the last meeting they held on the server, but for the life of Grian he couldn’t remember who all was missing. He’d never got to say a proper goodbye.

And if . . . Boatem were the only ones who made it out, what then?

There was a knot in his throat. He swallowed against it.

“We’ll find them,” Grian said. “We can use this world as a meeting place if there isn’t another one.” I’ll open it to everyone who needs it. I’ll walk through worlds again if I need to. I’ll use my Watcher sight to find them if they’re lost. I’ll do anything.

“I’ll help save them if they need it,” Pearl said, “even if it kills me.”

The others murmured in agreement.

“We need rest first,” Grian said. “We can start making a plan in the morning. But you are all exhausted.”

Impulse poked a stick he was holding into the fire, twisting it around aimlessly. His back was against the moon. “I don’t know if- I don’t know if I feel like sleeping,” he said.

Grian heard the words he left unspoken. It just didn’t feel safe.

“What if we took turns?” Pearl said. “Some of us could sleep and somebody could stay awake. We could rotate. It’ll be better anyway to make sure the mobs in the forest don’t try to wander into our area.”

He knew that if they couldn’t sleep, Pearl could guide them into it with her powers.

Impulse nodded, a very small gesture.

“I’ll go first,” Grian said. He just needed to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a little cute how they’d all piled together to sleep. They didn’t have any beds yet, so they’d been forced to sleep on the ground under the built shade. Sleeping together provided warmth. But, Grian suspected, it provided an even more valuable commodity: closeness. A sort of hey-I’m-here-and-I’m-not-leaving.

They were all each other had now. Grian was used to the busyness of a full Hermitcraft server, where at any given moment day or night, someone was likely to be awake and doing things. Peace and quiet did exist on the server, but not in any of the main areas. In this world, it was just the five of them, and the silence was deafening.

Grian sat on a rock and watched the river rippled around the stones, trying to perfect the art of thinking just enough to stay awake, and not thinking just enough to guide his mind away from the heavy parts of the last few hours.

It was working about as well as everything else had worked out for him these past two months.

There was a rustling behind him, and Grian whirled around, sword in hand ready to fight whatever mobs may have moved into their camp. Instead, he came face to face with a very flustered looking Mumbo with his hands up.

“Whoa,” Mumbo said. “It’s just me.”

Grian lowered the sword, and wordlessly patted the spot next to him on the rock for Mumbo to sit in. “You should be sleeping,” he said.

“Couldn’t. Besides, you looked lonely.” Mumbo stared out at the water. They didn’t look at each other. “It’s too quiet, isn't it?” he said, echoing Grian’s thoughts.

“Aside from Pearl snoring over there?” Grian said, forcing his strained voice to be lighthearted. “Yes. Very.” On another day Mumbo might have chuckled at that, but on another day Grian might have actually been able to deliver it in a way that actually found some humor in their situation. Tonight, they just sat and stared.

Mumbo put his head in his hands, doubled over. He sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Nothing like this is ever supposed to happen. I, I mean we’ve all had strange things, or, or questionable things happen on the server, but it’s never– I mean, we never . . . Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Grian placed a hand on Mumbo’s back, feeling it shudder as he began to cry.

He thought about Mumbo and the only home he’d ever really had, the only place he’d ever really been from. It wasn’t the server–they changed worlds so frequently–but the people on it who made it home. He thought about how Mumbo didn’t really have anyplace else.

He thought about the day that he was told he wasn’t going to see any of the Evolutionists again. He thought about returning to the server to find them and finding it empty instead. He thought about how Pearl had told him what it was like to wake back up after the dragon fight, be given the information that he was gone, and have to find a way to keep moving. He thought about Jimmy’s face when he’d quietly said I think about it too.

He thought about the Hermits who welcomed him and made him one of their own. He thought about how happy he’d been with them, when he could set his disquieting thoughts aside and be someone else who hadn’t gone through what he had. He thought about how they’d welcomed Gem and Pearl the same way they welcomed him, and had an idea that their same story had played out over and over again with each new member of the server long before him.

This wasn’t about him or Mumbo being Watchers or soulmates. This wasn’t about his identity as a human or a Watcher. This was his identity as a hermit. They were his community now–his family. And he was missing all but four of them.

“You did good today,” Grian whispered to Mumbo, rubbing circles on his back. “I didn’t get a chance to say that but you did.”

“It was scary,” he said. “I don’t know how you . . .” he trailed off. “I don’t know how you did that. Ever.”

“We would’ve died if not for you,” Grian said. “Don’t sell yourself short. I need you.”

Mumbo was silent, but he’d seemingly stopped crying and his breath had evened out. Grian fumbled through his pockets, trying to find an object he’d put in there earlier after they let the fire die down and tried to get some sleep. He pulled it out, and its stark whiteness nearly seemed to glow in the dark night. It was a piece of a fish bone, pointed on one end and clearly hastily whittled into a tool.

“Where did you get that?” Mumbo asked.

“I made it earlier. It’s one of the preening tools.” He squinted at it in the dim light. “It’s not really perfect but it’ll do for now. Come on,” he said softly, “you’re a mess. Let me fix your feathers.”

Mumbo sat stock still as Grian positioned himself behind him, and gently began working on the feathers. He was tense, and Grian wondered if he didn’t really feel like being touched at all in that moment, but his tension began to melt as Grian straightened and cleaned his feathers. The light was almost too little to work by, but the full moon was bright, and Grian would not be complaining about it not being any bigger or any brighter. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because even a haphazard preening job in the middle of the night was something that Mumbo needed right now.

“I’m sorry again,” Mumbo said into the night. “I know I–I keep apologizing but. I’m sorry. I didn’t think the soul thing would turn out like this. And I can’t help but feel like it was the beginning of the end.”

“You couldn’t have predicted the moon. You couldn’t have caused the moon,” Grian said. “I mean, your timing kind of sucked, but you didn’t cause the apocalypse by making a mistake. And besides, I already forgave you for that. I forgave you the night you knocked on my door.”

“Even after this? All of this?”

The side of Grian’s mouth turned up in a not-quite smile, the bittersweet kind. “I . . . guess I needed someone else to know,” he said. “Not that you really signed up for all of this, of course.”

Mumbo was quiet for a long moment, and there was just the scratching of Grian’s tool and the gentle lapping of the water. A gently smoldering fire and a pile of sleeping Boatem members. An owl hooting in the distance and the distant clank of a skeleton. The ground was stable beneath their feet.

Mumbo spoke. “I don’t regret picking you.”

Grian smoothed one of the feathers out. It was black, soaking in the light like the void had before, but it was warmer in hue. It picked up the faint embers of the dying fire, and the cool light of the too-small moon.

“I don’t regret it either,” he said. “I’m glad it was you.”

END.

<< Chapter Ten | Masterpost.

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #boatem crew #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #watcher grian #watcher mumbo #hermitcraft fanfiction #quara fanfic #CRIES. SOBS EVEN. THIS IS IT

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thebigoblin · 3 years ago

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2021 Fic Year In Review

Thanks for the tag @greyhavenisback and @radio-chatter!

Total Number Of Completed Works:

102 on AO3. I crosspost between Tumblr and there so I'm pretty sure that's all of the fics I've written this year (which is actually my first year publishing fanfics!!!) Oh, wait, make that 103 because of the Sterek Secret Santa fic that hasn't been revealed yet!

Total Word Count:

*checks stats* It's a whopping 165, 447 words!! Including the SSS fic.

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?

Definitely more. Way, way more. Like, I just wanted to write because Ideas, you know, that kept knocking at my brain to be let out. And I did let them out and now here we are. Wow. I'm feeling incredible right now 😂

Fandoms I’ve Written In:

Teen Wolf, MCU, 911 Show, Supernatural and BBC Merlin. Tho maximum fics are for a certain Sourwolf and Spark ♡

Most Popular Story Of The Year?

By both Hits & Kudos: Hidden Treasure (MCU)—it is so bad though ohmigod and it has 10k hits. What the ever loving fuck. But also, I get the appeal 😂 any and all "Peter Parker gets embarrassed by his adoptive family aka The Avengers and his classmates find out he is Spider-Man/find out how he is a well-loved BAMF" are top-tier, tbh.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?

Hmm, let me think. Orbit (yours is the only one i'd follow) is probably my favorite. It's just me sort of being introspective on the various romantic relationships, with Stiles' POV. I especially love my Petopher one:

Peter and Chris are like gunpowder and a match, waiting to touch and to spark; Stiles doesn’t know who is who, all he knows is that they are two people who are meant to be in the same circles. On the exact opposite sides, maybe, but always with a path laid out for them to trace back to the other one.

Like a never-ending path of love. More than love; family, hate, trust, respect.

Peter and Chris have covered everything, and now they’re on the same side, in each other’s reach but still their own person as they move forward.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?

Keep writing? Yeah, that's one. Get the @sterek-roundrobinchallenge to be a successful Sterek event, that's another. And I'm planning on trying to do the 24 Fics in 24 Hours thing [edit: I linked their masterpost] that @bleep0bleep did... it looks pretty interesting. But I'll limit myself to just writing Sterek. (Can you tell they're my OTP by now? Lol). But I'll do that in like... May 2022. Maybe. Who knows? Not me. But it's nice to dream.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

Yup, sure did. I joined the @stereksecretsanta challenge, which was fun, but risky given that this is my first year writing and the deadline... oooof. Glad to have been done on time, tho. I'm just hoping now that my Giftee likes their gift <3

Oh, also, I wrote Thiam-centric fics. One or two, I think. I don't think I have a clear grasp on them yet, or it's like, I am not used to writing them. So writing them anyways was a risk.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion:

Lmao, Idk? No wait I lied. I'm definitely of the opinion that my fic We Honor The Dead by Fighting For The Living is severely underrated. I had a lot of fun coming up with the Legend! I actually really love this fic. I just wish more people would too :(

Most Fun Story To Write:

The fic mentioned just above.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

Uhhh, maybe all? Like in the way that I'm still forming my opinions on things that are not fanfic/fandom stuff, so I don't actually have many personal character headcanons—like, I don't have a favorite genre/artist of songs, neither do any of my characters etc. Stuff like that.

Biggest Disappointment:

The Song Challenge that nobody did except me and @deepestbelieverstranger 🙃 sooo I might've deleted the blog.

Biggest Surprise:

Meeting so many cool people on here and not being so socially inept that I ignored them in my anxiety 😂 but uhh in fic things, probably being able to hate a character—S*ott McCall—so, so much. Because while watching the show in 2020 I hadn't like... picked up on all the shitty things he did? I just didn't like him I knew that, because he literally told Derek in S1 that his family deserved to die, and the S2 Finale Bite Rape obviously. But that was disliking S*ott. Now I actively hate him. The canon version, anyways.

My Favorite Part Of Fandom This Year:

Meeting all the amazing people and being able to just share my love for these characters from a decade old growly-dramatic-over-the-top show ♡ Sure, there're always a group in all fandoms that's just here to rile others up and be Trolls, but I think the Teen Wolf fandom that I've talked to/interacted with are good. Most of them. And it's really nice because I've heard a lot of horror stories, too.

Okay, so that's it! This got sooo long lmao. 🤣🤣 Anyways, I'm tagging the following people (No pressure):

@deepestbelieverstranger @ilovepeachystuff @novemberhush @steve-x-bucky @veryprecisehans @elisela @raisesomehale @ronni-right @ash-mcj @nutellarghh @fairytales-and-folklore @princecharmingwinks @eusuntgratie @sheetghsts @pray-for-sound and anyone else who wants to play!!! Open Tag <3

#tag games #fic in review #sterek #teen wolf #mcu #peter parker #anti scott mccall #petopher #and like a myriad other ships lmao

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a-nice-and-interpretive-fanzine · 4 years ago

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[ID: A cream-colored banner that says "A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: essays and art about the meanings we've found in Good Omens." There is a photo of a book page with a key on it behind the banner text. The photo source is rosy_photo on Pixabay. /end ID]

A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: Information Masterpost

Welcome!

This is a zine for those of us who love the subtle, complex work that is Good Omens, and who’ve enjoyed the thoughtfulness of the fandom as people interpret how the many moving pieces of the story come together, creating a slightly different meaning for each of us.

To put it simply, it’s a book full of the fandom’s own analysis and commentary about the Good Omens TV show, enhanced with illustrations from our brilliant artists.

This zine is analytical in the sense that all the writers are expressing their own nonfiction thoughts and feelings about the show, rather than writing fanfic, but it is not meant to be heavily academic. Anybody who likes to pick apart the series and discuss it should be able to enjoy it.

The zine will contain essays by fans who are passionate about analyzing and interpreting different parts of Good Omens - the characters, the plot, the writing techniques for the book and script, the cinematography of the TV show, the popular content of the fandom itself. Accompanying these essays will be black and white illustrations from our artists.

How are you organizing this process?

May 1-May 15: Everyone submits their application to do writing or art through a Google form. Behind the scenes, I’ll be setting up a separate email and Discord.

May 16-20: Applicants will be screened during this time.

May 20: I’ll email everyone to let them know the outcomes of their applications. The final participants will get a link to the Discord server for the zine (totally optional, of course).

May 21: If there’s any clarification or solidifying of ideas that needs to happen, I’ll contact you and discuss with you by this point. This is also when artists will be matched up with essays.

May 22 to August 14: This will be a period of just working on our essays and art. The Discord chat and Tumblr will be there for support and for exchanging ideas!

August 15: Participants need to email their full works to the zine’s email address by this date. No special formatting is needed; I’ll do that in InDesign.

August 15 to August 31: I’ll be putting the zine together in InDesign.

September 1: Preorders will open.

September 30: Preorders will close.

October 1: The zine order will be placed!

October 15: Assuming all goes well with printing and shipping, the zines will be shipped out in waves starting on this date. If the printing or shipping from the manufacturer is delayed, then shipping will just start ASAP.

Writer Application HERE Artist Application HERE Asked and Answered Questions on Tumblr The Fanzine's Page on Twitter

Read below for more detailed information about the zine in a Q and A format!

What are the specifications for the zine contributions?

For writers, I’m starting with 3k words or fewer per essay (approximately 10 pages at the size of this book). This depends heavily on how many participants we actually get, so it may change!

For artists, I’d be looking at black and white works, 300 DPI, 5.5 x 8.5 inches or smaller. If your art is supposed to fill up the entire page (i.e. no white space), please make it a total of 5.75 x 8.75 inches with nothing too important around the edges to account for bleed during the printing process.

Can I submit an essay to this zine if I’ve already posted it on Tumblr?

Not as you’ve already posted it. We don’t want to just copy/paste the exact thing that hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people have already read.

However, it IS fine and maybe even a good idea to take the same thought from your post and refine it, preserving your same thesis. For example, a lot of Tumblr posts are just us fans jotting down 5 or 6 paragraphs of random thoughts at 2 AM, but some of them are really cool thoughts! Expanding them and turning them into a bona-fide Essay would make those posts into excellent zine chapters. And you can copy small pieces of your own language as long as the whole thing isn’t just pasted word-for-word.

How long do essays have to be? Is there a limit?

With the number of writers we have, I've calculated that each person should ideally keep their essay to about 6000 words. There is wiggle room.

There’s no real minimum for your contribution; some analytical ideas are really good but can be expressed concisely, so it’s okay if your essays only come out to a few pages typed. For reference, with our book size, a page is about 300 words.

What happens if the zine sells a lot and you end up not only breaking even, but turning a profit?

It’ll go to charity. While I’ll ask the participants what they want to do for certain if we do make enough money, my suggestion will be donating it to Alzheimer’s Research UK in honor of Sir Terry Pratchett.

I’m not really comfortable calling this a “charity zine” up front since I simply don’t know if it will raise a significant amount. For the most part, I just want the thing to physically exist, which means breaking even, and don’t want to make it more expensive for buyers than it needs to be to afford the printing costs.

What kinds of essays are you talking about? What could be included?

In short, any analytical thoughts about the Good Omens TV show - and possibly even the fandom as it interacts with the show - are possible inclusions for the zine.

To expand a bit, think about the meta posts you see floating around Tumblr. Often these involve analyzing characters, or picking up on patterns in the plot. Sometimes fans use their own background knowledge to write posts about the significance of certain costume choices or the way music plays into each individual scene. Some posts examine the ways the series approaches gender, while others might discuss ways that the characters present as neurodivergent. That’s how diverse the pool of possibilities is for subjects in this zine.

How does art come into this?

Images will be black and white, to match the bookish mood of the project overall. Images can range in size from a half page to a full page.

I’m planning to talk to the artists and authors and loosely pair artists with essays that appeal to their personal interests.

I know how to illustrate a story, but how do I illustrate an essay?

There are infinite answers to this! I’ve seen some beautiful symbolic artwork in the fandom already (e.g. a number of takes on Aziraphale munching on an apple with Crowley in snake form curving around him), and there are tons of symbolic motifs to draw from, but these are not the only options. An artist illustrating an essay about cinematography, for example, could draw a well-known scene from an alternative angle. An essay about Heaven as a capitalist corporation could be illustrated with a cartoon of Gabriel giving some sort of excruciating PowerPoint presentation. A character analysis could be accompanied by a simple portrait. And on and on. I’m not interested in limiting the possibilities by trying to make a list, but just know that there are many and you don’t have to make it complicated if you don’t want to.

If the writers can reuse their essay ideas, can artists reuse their drawings?

Similarly to the writers, if you already have an interpretive drawing that you’re in love with, artists can use the same ideas and the same fundamental composition that is present in their own existing work. However, it has to be redone in some significant way. Whether it’s taking something you drew in 2019 and redrawing it using an updated style, taking a sketch and turning it into a lined and shaded piece, or redoing a full-color drawing so it presents more strikingly in black and white, it shouldn’t be identical to the thing you’ve already posted.

So how are you choosing participants here?

It’ll be based on what people are interested in writing about (or illustrating). I’ll be looking for people who are passionate about their essays, but I’ll also be looking for variety. It all depends on what people want to offer, so I won’t know for sure what it will look like put together until everyone’s application is in.

For artists, I’ll be trying to figure out whose style looks like it would adapt well to illustrations in black and white, and also who demonstrates an interest in the same subjects as the writers.

If we don’t get a lot of applicants, I’d love to simply include everyone, but I can’t commit to that without knowing for sure how many people are involved.

Do I have to use a formal writing style to participate?

No. You should use a style that makes your thoughts and ideas as clear as possible, but as long as it’s understandable, you can also get a little artistic with it. You can “write like you speak,” though perhaps in a more organized way. You definitely don’t need to worry about stylistic rules like not using the first person. This is not academia.

Is this zine going to center only on Crowley and Aziraphale?

That remains to be seen! It depends on what ideas show up in the applications. There will be a lot of the ineffable partners for sure, but whether the whole zine will center on them or whether there’s plentiful stuff about other characters will depend on what the participants suggest.

Do we have to agree with all your personal interpretations of Good Omens to be in the zine?

No! In fact, I’m assuming that a number of essays will contradict each other, too, and that’s perfectly okay. The zine is a sampler of fan interpretations meant to inspire, not instruct. It’s not “Here’s a fan-made guide on how to understand this TV show,” it’s “Look at all these moving parts and how many meanings we can find in them. What does it mean to you?”

However, there are some basic rules and assumptions by which I’m working here.

I don’t personally have the energy to include essays that are highly critical (“negative”) in this zine. It’s analytical but also meant to be fun.

I’m pretty focused on the TV adaptation. This isn’t “no book analysis allowed” but just that the essays will end up being weighted toward subjects that apply to either the TV show or both the book and the show.

Each writer should focus on making their own points over disproving other fan interpretations. If you’re writing in an expository style, it’s normal for the essay to contain rebuttals to opposing ideas, but these should be minor supporting points, not the heart and soul of your essay. For reference, I’d say the majority of meta I see floating around on tumblr would follow this rule just fine.

Essay ideas that seem to contain bigoted or exclusionary sentiments will not be accepted (no TERFy stuff, for example).

What kinds of editing will go into the zine? Are you going to argue with us about the contents of our writing?

While I might ask you to elaborate on certain points in your writing or clarify your thoughts about your subject, I’m absolutely not here to ask you to change the thesis, opinions, or headcanons on which your writing is based. If I really have a problem with your initial idea, I’ll tell you that up front and politely decline the contribution.

While formatting the zine, I’ll make minor edits if I think I see a typo or misspelling, something small and obviously unintentional. As with any other zine, your content won’t be changed without consulting you.

Is this a SFW zine?

Yes. If people want to discuss sexuality in a theoretical way, like erotic subtext, that would be allowed. There are canon references like Newt and Anathema’s moment under the bed that might come up, too. But there will be nothing explicit, and since these are essays instead of stories, there will be no “action” going on between characters. Let’s just say sex isn’t a forbidden topic, but it will be like discussing it in English class.

As for other topics that could make the zine NSFW, like gore or extreme language, I don’t think they will be an issue. Some dark topics, like abuse by Heaven and Hell, may be discussed, but they will be warned for, and these are not stories, so you aren’t going to see violent actions playing out.

Will there be any “extras” like charms or stickers?

I’m not sure yet. I’m most inclined to keep it simple, because of the nature of the zine, but would be open to including some bonus items if there’s an artist who’s really passionate about it.

With that said, I am pretty committed to making a hardcover edition of the book available, in addition to the standard softcover version.

You’re doing this with only one mod?!

Yes. I personally find it easiest. While I’ve worked on multi-mod projects in other domains and adore all of my co-mods, it’s a little bit different when it’s a project with this many moving pieces that includes real-life components like printing and shipping. Though there are a lot of individual things to be done, I am experienced with all of them, so it’s less overwhelming to just take on the whole project. That way, I know exactly what needs to be done and when, and there are no issues with assigning tasks.

What qualifies you to run this zine?

The résumé answer: in fandom, I successfully solo-modded a large not-for-profit zine in the past, the @soulmakazine2018, and while I can’t speak for the whole fandom, it definitely seemed to be well-received. <3 In real life, I’m a case manager and this involves coordinating and communicating with a lot of different people including my 100-person caseload, budgeting services, and filling out all kinds of paperwork on the fly, all skills that can be imported into zine work.

The practical answer: well, I’m the one who decided to start this project, so if you like the sound of it, you're stuck with me. I say with encouragement and enthusiasm that if you’d like to do a different take on a commentary zine, you should absolutely do it.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #fanzine #good omens zine

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thran-duils · 4 years ago

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You’re Now Mine (P.15)

Title: You’re Now Mine (Part 15) Summary: Fulfilling a request for @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “Could you do a drabble for the Persephone AU I don’t know If you’ve seen once upon a time but the episode 1x07 reminded me a lot of this story when the evil queen ripped out the huntsmen’s heart if you could do something like that it would be awesome. Thank you.” Words: 1,826 Warnings: DARK AF, Emotional/Mental abuse, smut

Chap 14 || Chap 16 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tucking the blanket underneath your feet further, your eyes scoured the tree-line. You had seen some deer earlier and were hoping to see them again. After they had left, you had scattered some oats along where they had been in the act of attracting them back. It was chilly outside, still being an early spring morning as it was, but you were comfortable enough on the deck with your warm cup of tea.

Lucifer had been gone for almost a day at this point, leaving you behind here. You were all alone, truly.

Biting your bottom lip harshly, you tried to hold back the tears that were brimming as you saw Sam and Dean die again, flashing before your eyes. You hated Lucifer for doing what he had done, no matter what reasoning he had had. He had not been sure about it but still sacrificed them all the same. You knew he despised them but never thought he would be that cruel.

The air shifted from behind you and you whipped around quickly, spilling some of your tea. At the sight of him, you almost dropped the cup completely in your shock.

“C-Chuck?” you sputtered.

His hands tucked into his coat pockets, he shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, In the flesh.”

You placed your cup down and stood, tossing the blanket over your shoulders to keep yourself warm. “How did you get in here?” Chuck’s brows furrowed and you explained, “Lucifer said… he said he locked me away in here.”

“He did,” Chuck confirmed calmly.

It was your turn to look confused; how was he sure of that? He took a step closer to you and you instinctively took one back, an ominous feeling slowly welling at the fact he was here. Was it truly even him or was Lucifer playing games again? And why would he choose Chuck out of all people?

Chuck – if it was even him – smirked slightly noticing your movement back from him. He stopped and held his hands up in a friendly manner. “No need to be scared of me, Y/N. I’m here to help.”

“Help with what?”

“Amara. My sister.”

His sister?

“I’ve stayed out of the picture for too long. Left you all to defend yourselves when I should have been here assisting. It is my mess and I need to fix it. I was the one who locked her away in the first place.”

Hesitantly, you asked, deciding to play along, “What do you mean? What can a prophet be doing in this situation? No offense.”

Chuck’s smirk grew into a smile. His eyes fell away from you to the empty garden pot near him. He walked to it, reaching out over the bare dirt. Beneath his hand, flowers boomed.

Your eyes widened in shock and you had had enough. “Lucifer!” you rasped, tearfully. “I’m not in the mood for mind games! Please, just stop.”

“I am more than a prophet,” Chuck continued, ignoring your request. He faced you, telling you sincerely, “I’m God.”

Shaking your head, you said, “That… that’s not true.”

“It is. Lucifer was right. I should have come sooner, not driven him to such ends to try to get my attention. I did hurt his feelings by showing up now, but I am here nonetheless. And I have struck a deal with him to get him to agree to work with me – again – on putting Amara back where she belongs.” Chuck clicked his tongue and added, “Plus, I need Sam and Dean to come back to help us. They’re always a key in these fights.”

Your mouth fell open in shock and you stammered, “C-come back? You’re going to…?”

“Of course. I couldn’t let them die like that,” Chuck returned. “I created them to withstand battles like this one.”

The question of Castiel almost fell from your lips but you bit it back. You were still unsure whether or not this was actually Chuck or Lucifer. If you asked about Castiel, you knew that would infuriate Lucifer.

How you hated not being able to tell the truth from an untruth. Lucifer had made sure of that.

Sighing loudly, Chuck looked out over the yard. “It’ll be beautiful here when the flowers fully bloom, Y/N. You have a good spot.”

Why did you feel something was about to happen?

His gaze fell back on you, and he smiled softly. “It’s been good knowing you the way you’ve been over the encounters we’ve had before this, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

Chuck merely cocked his head, that smile still on his lips.

<> <> <>

Everything was fuzzy. Your vision, your thoughts. Rubbing at your eyes with your blanket, it tightened around your shoulders.

Blinking, your vision focused on the person in front of you. “Chuck? What? How did I get out here?”

Chuck smiled at you, slow and simple. “Yes, Y/N. Just checking in to make sure my son is taking good care of you. And I found you out here, taking a nap. I’m sorry I startled you.”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to remember when you had come out here. Looking around, you were still at home. It was spring… why could you not remember? You noticed someone else standing by the sliding glass door back into the house. A dark haired, handsome man. His hands were in his slacks pockets, watching the two of you intently.

Chuck followed your stare and assured you, “Oh, that’s one of my angels. Don’t worry about him, just accompanying me.”

You tore your gaze away from the man and directed at Chuck, “Has… has something happened to Lucifer? Has he done something?”

Chuck shook his head, smiling still. “No, Lucifer is fine. You’re fine. You’re still safe here. Just like he promised for this last millennia.”

Your shoulders relaxed hearing his soothing words. You had worried for a moment that something terrible had befallen Lucifer. You knew little of what went on outside your home, so you had a lot of opportunity to wonder what dangers lay out there for him when he was away.

Chuck held out his hand to you, beckoning you. “You should go inside. Get something to eat. Lucifer will be back soon. I promise.”

Following his lead, the two of you made your way back towards the door. The other angel stepped out of the way, allowing you two to pass by. His aquamarine eyes were piercing, watching you intently.

Curious, you thought to yourself but paid no more mind.

<> <> <>

Dean and Sam blinked in astonishment around the bunker. They were sitting at the entrance table, far from where they had been. They both remembered what had happened, Lucifer standing in front of them, smiling wickedly. Y/N had been begging him to spare them and he had not heeded her pleas. The immense pain as he twisted their insides… then darkness.

How were they back home? Was this heaven?

They locked eyes. “What…” Sam muttered, knowing damn well Dean did not have an explanation but asked nonetheless.

“Back in one piece then,” a voice sounded from the other end of the table.

Their attention snapped towards it and they stared in shock at Chuck Shurley sitting at the end of the table. And Lucifer.

Dean’s face hardened immediately. He began to stand up from the table, “You sonofabitch—”

He was slammed back into his chair by a wave of Chuck’s hand. “We don’t have time for revenge right now, Dean.”

“Dean is hostile! Wow, what a surprise!” Lucifer said, trying to push Dean and Sam’s buttons. It was working too.

Chuck said firmly in warning, “Lucifer.” Lucifer shut his mouth and settled back into his chair, staring down the length of the table at the boys.

Sam narrowed his eyes in curiosity at the exchange, wondering why Lucifer backed off so easily. Staring hard between Chuck and Lucifer, he sized them up for a few moments before realization dawned on his face. “You… no…” he trailed off, in shock.

Halfheartedly, Chuck waved his hands. “Surprise.”

“You’re God?” Sam blurted.

“What?” Dean demanded, looking wildly between Sam and Chuck.

“This whole time?” Sam asked harshly.

“No, actually. He was a prophet and God decided that he should take the reins—”

“Lucifer,” Chuck warned again, and Lucifer shut his mouth.

Sam shook his head and said more to himself than anything, “This whole time.”

Dean leveled Chuck with a glare. “And you just sat back this whole damn time?”

Instead of arguing, Chuck said, “I had other pressing things to attend to.”

“Then the whole damn world being threatened by the Darkness? What else could have possibly been occupying your precious time?”

“A lot of things I don’t want to discuss with you, Dean,” Chuck returned, an ice to his tone. Dean caught it, realizing he was pressing God. He leaned back, his gaze moving between Lucifer and Chuck. Straightening out his jacket, Chuck said, “What matters is I am here now, and we have to figure out how to get Amara back in her imprisonment.”

That lit a fire underneath Dean again. “We?” He demanded, his finger circling around the table but his gaze was pointed at Lucifer, hatred burning in his eyes. He growled, “Hell fucking no, You killed us!”

“And?” Lucifer drawled.

“And?” Dean snarled, incredulously.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Lucifer pointed out. “My plan worked. You’re welcome.”

Pissed, Dean shook his head. “Nice friggen plan, Lucifer. You traumatized Y/N and killed us! What a bang-up job!”

At her mention, Sam asked before Lucifer could retort anything, “Where is Y/N? Is she still in hell? She should be here.”

“She’s not your concern anymore,” Lucifer said, feigning lightheartedness. “And she’s not Cassie’s either.”

Dean snarled, “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“How can I be any clearer, Dean-o?” Lucifer taunted.

“Let it go,” Chuck advised the boys.

“Let it go? She’s family!” Dean barked at him before pointing at Lucifer threateningly. “And you’ve been torturing her for months!”

“She’s not your family anymore!” Lucifer snapped in return, his cool demeanor gone, bristled by Dean’s accusation.

“This is not important enough to bicker over right now!” Chuck shouted, losing his temper. The table fell silent at his outburst instantaneously. “Yes, Lucifer was reckless and should not have done what he did. But that’s because he felt he had to force my hand and that’s my fault. Y/N’s fine, you’re fine. What is not fine is Amara is running loose wanting to destroy the planet.”

No one said anything in response to him, sitting in tense silence.

Chuck inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. Clearing his throat, he said, “We need a plan. And we need more help. Specifically, from hell and from a witch.”

Lucifer chuckled at this, leaning back in his chair. “Ah… Crowley and Rowena. Of course. My favorites.” He flicked his gaze to Sam and Dean, smirking. “The ol’ team is back together again, eh?”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld

Tags I missed who requested to be tagged or showed interest (for this one time just so I don’t bother people who are not interested anymore. If you want to be tagged again, just leave a comment on the post or PM me!): @itsmeempar, @vvipgot7be, @roonyxx, @littlesupernaturalwords

#casifer x reader #casifer fic #spn fic #supernatural fic #lucifer x reader #lucifer!cas x reader #my shit

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ambersky0319 · 5 years ago

Text

You’re Something Else

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

Prompt: Medieval Demus fanfic? Remus and Roman are both princes and with Roman set to inherit the throne their parents desperately want to see Remus married off, however Remus has the tendency to be picky with potential suitors and has turned them all down thus far. That is until Remus’ newest suitor turns out to be Prince Janus. At first Remus is difficult with him as he is with all his suitors but than Janus starts winning him over slowly. Janus also knows sorcery in this.

Overall Story Warnings: Blood and injuries(varies throughout story), kind of a terrible father, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Masterpost

———————–

That's how they spent the next couple of miles, Remus asking questions and Janus gladly supplied answers. He also asked Remus a few things about the kingdom he was confused by- also what Orion's deal was.

Remus ended up not regretting letting Janus come along.

Especially when Janus had found a few of the plants he needed. They were more common than others Remus had seen, but they only grew this area of the forest. Janus explained that they didn't grow back in his kingdom, and he wanted to send one back to his father. The other few he picked he was keeping for his own reasons.

Remus rolled his eyes as Janus tucked them away carefully in his bag, Janus still rambling about something Remus didn't quite understand but he found that he liked hearing Janus's voice. He was about to continue on when he froze, staring into the clearing ahead.

Janus looked up, confused as he fell silent. He relaxed though, moving to stand beside Remus as he watched the dragon carefully. It was sleeping, or at least appeared to be. Janus did notice the discarded corpses of a few guards a few meters away from the dragon. They were missing their armor, and long cuts along their chests and backs told Janus a lot about the claws he could not currently see. They would be long, long enough to sink deep into the flesh of a human.

Remus must have also noticed the guards because his face seemed to pale a bit. Janus glanced up, the sun was hanging above them, a bit past noon if he had to guess. He grabbed Remus's arm lightly. "Come on, we should start heading back," Janus whispered. "If it killed five guards all by itself, we shouldn't wake it."

But Remus didn't seem to hear him. Or want to listen to him, at least. He gripped his morningstar tightly, glancing between the guards and the dragon.

It didn't look too big. Not as big as people had been guessing. And if he was quiet...

"Remus!" Janus hissed, not daring to step any closer to the dragon but Remus was out of his reach. Janus knew his limits with dragons, even sleeping ones. Janus huffed softly as Remus made his way closer, being careful to not make a sound.

Janus looked around the clearing a bit more, taking it in. An odd place for a dragon to sleep, or keep its hoard. Maybe it was one of those dragons Janus had heard about that preferred open areas?

But this wasn't as open as it would probably like. Maybe it was just making do with what it could find? And maybe it had grown up here. Abandoned babies rarely left their birthplaces, after all. So maybe no one had noticed the creature before because it was much smaller at the time, able to get away faster.

Janus didn't have much more time to think, though, as suddenly the dragon was moving, whipping around to knock away whoever had disturbed it. Janus stepped back slightly, flinching as the dragon snarled and swatted at Remus.

Remus's morningstar was nowhere in sight. At least, not until the dragon turned its back to Janus and Janus saw it stuck in the dragon's spine. Remus had barely made a dent in its scales. Remus tripped over his own feet as he tried to back away into the trees, another growl escaping the dragon's mouth. It swiped at Remus and Janus cursed as he heard Remus actually scream.

"Oh fuck it-" Janus hissed, fumbling to get his wand out. Hopefully he remembered those stun spells right- another cry, but it was followed by a thud, and Janus whipped his head up, eyes widening as he saw Remus slide to the ground against one of the trees.

By some miracle, the dragon had yet to notice Janus. Janus had been right about its claws, they were extremely long. And sharp. Janus swallowed, hand trembling.

No, he couldn't tremble. That would mess with the spell.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stop trembling. He wasn't in any danger. Remus wasn't in any danger. He was in the library back home, Logan was waiting in front of him, waiting for Janus to try stunning him. He was good at stunning.

Janus heard the tearing of flesh and the dragon snarl again and with motions almost like second nature, Janus waved the want in the pattern he was meant to. He made sure he was locked onto the dragon as he mumbled the incantation, finishing the spell and casting it.

The dragon barely stumbled- of course, it needed something stronger. But it finally noticed Janus. Janus took a step back as it started to stalk closer, its tail lashing from side to side.

Janus tried again, Logan's cool voice filling his thoughts. A different spell would work better, but which one?

Janus yelped as the dragon lunged at him and he dove under it, narrowly being hit by its back legs. He always had time to concentrate on spells-

The dragon tried to swipe at him again but Janus scrambled away, thoughts racing. What spell, what spell-

Janus cursed again, much louder this time as the dragon was able to hit him with its tail, sending Janus tumbling into the dragon's large pule. The dragon snarled and tried to lunge at him again.

Janus didn't try to dodge this time, casting the first spell that came to mind and squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't hear the words that fell from his mouth, expecting full well to be ripped to shreds then and there.

But that didn't come.

Instead, something tiny landed on his chest. Janus opened his eyes and looked down, and he almost cooed. He lied back on the pile he had been thrown against. Of course. A shrinking spell.

The little angry dragon roared, but it was no louder than a squeak. Janus grabbed it gently and set it on the pile. "I'll leave, alright, no need to throw a hissy fit." The dragon still growled, but it backed away from Janus now that Janus was the much larger one.

Janus's heart was about to stop racing until he remembered why he had gotten involved in the first place.

"Remus!" Janus rushed over to the fallen prince, relief washing over him when Remus groaned softly. Remus didn't open his eyes, though, taking in shallow breaths.

They were too far for Janus to carry him. And he didn't know any healing spells, just healing potions. And he didn't have the proper ingredients to make one on such short notice.

"Teleporting spell," Janus mumbled, looking around for his bag. Hopefully he could find one in his book, and fast, before Remus died of blood loss.

Janus spotted it where the dragon had managed to first hit him, and Janus scrambled over to the bag, bringing it over to Remus and pulling his book out. He flipped through the pages quickly, his heart beating in his ears. He barely registered his own cuts, sparing a glance at Remus. More panic flooded through Janus as it seemed more blood was staining the grass under Remus.

He searched faster and nearly skipped the page he needed. "Please, please, please work," Janus mumbled, following through with the motions and reciting the incantation and imagining the palace entrance as best he could.

The next thing Janus knew, they were there.

The guards were startled as they suddenly appeared, and Janus hated how they hesitated.

"Don't just stand there!" He cried out, forcing himself to his feet, "help him!"

Evelyn took a seat beside Janus just outside the infirmary. He was promised that Remus would be okay, that his wounds weren't as severe as Janus had feared.

Janus spared the queen a glance, freezing when she rested a hand on his shoulder. She smiled softly. "Thank you, for getting him here so quickly." Janus turned away, frown tugging at his lips. He didn't like the fact that he needed to use a spell to get back, and thus let the rest of the royal family and some guards that he knew sorcery. It was one thing he was hoping to keep from them, his parents advising that he didn't tell them, and Logan had agreed. Apparently, no kingdom in this land knew much about sorcery. It was astonishing they knew of creatures like dragons at all.

Another thing that bothered Janus though was the fact that Orion hadn't even bat an eye at Remus once Janus had appeared with his unconscious body. Roman had been stunned and had paled dramatically when he caught a glimpse of his brother, but Orion didn't appear phased at all.

Evelyn pulled her hand away, sensing Janus's unease. She folded her hands in her lap, looking at the wand gripped tightly in Janus's hands. She tilted her head, determined to get at least one word out of Janus though. "You must care for him a lot, staying with him despite the dragon. And by getting it out of the way, too." She glanced at the guards on the other end of the hallway. "Anyone else would have probably left Remus to die."

Janus gripped his wand tighter, bowing his head slightly.

He did care for Remus, but not as much as the queen may be thinking. Janus decided against crushing her hope that the two were incredibly close now, and instead looked at her through his bangs. His hair had become quite messy, dirt and a few leaves still in his curls. He had come straight to the infirmary and hadn't left to get cleaned up yet.

"Queen Evelyn?" Janus asked slowly, and she hummed, looking down at him. Janus took a deep breath. "Is that true?"

She frowned. "Pardon?"

"About anyone else leaving him to die- is that true?"

Evelyn looked away, at the grand painting on the wall across from them. It was a portrait of the family, about ten years prior. Even in the painting, it was evident a rift had started to grow in the family with how Remus was just close enough for there to not be a noticeable distance but anyone who looked more closely could see Remus was actually standing further away from his parents and brother.

"I'm afraid so." She said softly, and Janus remained quiet, gaze falling back to his wand. He ran his fingers over the wood, the action grounding him. He'd have to write a letter home soon- and have a long talk with his fellow prince.

They waited in silence after that. None of the guards made an effort to ask the queen if she was okay, to ask Janus if he was okay. They had already tried and failed to get Janus to go clean up, and the Queen looked adamant on staying with him.

Eventually a doctor walked out of the infirmary. She smiled at the queen softly. "Prince Remus will make a good recovery if he can get some rest. He was injured on his chest and stomach mostly, a lot of bruising on his back, and one of his legs had a nasty cut. And he had lost a lot of blood. But he'll be fine."

"Anything else?" Evelyn asked. The doctor nodded.

"He should wake up any minute, if you want to go see him."

Evelyn looked down at Janus, who was listening intently to the doctor. She shook her head. "I think I'll go let my husband and Roman know he will be okay. Prince Janus should go see him, though."

Janus looked at her with a frown, about to protest, but she held up her hand. "No arguments." Janus held her gaze, but he really didn't have the energy to fight against her words. Besides... if she didn't want to go see Remus immediately, why should Janus try to get her to? Janus sighed almost silently before bowing his head again, and Evelyn smiled before walking off towards the throne room.

The doctor waited patiently for Janus to get to his feet - they felt like lead from how long he had been sitting - before guiding him into the infirmary.

It was a lot brighter than the infirmary back home, much harsher lighting and the white walls only hurt his eyes more. But he still followed the doctor to a section that was closed off by curtains. She nodded towards it. "I'll let you two be for now. Call for anyone if it seems something is wrong though, okay?"

Janus nodded, watching her walk away and to another closed off bed, hearing someone coughing loudly behind that curtain. He slipped into Remus's makeshift room, finding Remus was still unconscious. Or maybe it was just easier for him to keep his eyes closed. Janus wouldn't blame him. Janus settled on the edge of the bed after seeing nowhere else for him to sit, and he examined Remus himself.

The doctors had done a good job in stitching him up, Janus couldn't tell that these were dragon wounds instead of sword wounds now. He couldn't help but think of how Remus wouldn't have needed stitches in Janus's kingdom, the healers would have used a variety of healing spells to have patched him up. And Remus probably needed more rest than he would have needed if a healing spell had been used.

Janus didn't notice Remus crack his eyes open, and was startled when Remus finally spoke up. "See something you like?"

The foreign prince flinched when Remus's voice cracked, a small groan escaping Remus as he shifted slightly. "By the stars..." Remus mumbled, closing his eyes again and leaning his head back. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not all of it."

Janus bit his lip. "We stumbled upon the dragon. You attacked it after seeing some dead guards, and the dragon fought back."

"And I'm still here because...?"

Janus drummed his wand against his leg lightly. Remus hadn't noticed it yet. "I uh- I shrunk the dragon, and teleported us here."

Remus glared at him slightly, though the threatening look was useless when Janus was looking down at him and Remus could barely move. "You're lying again."

Janus shook his head. "No, I'm not." Remus's glare weakened, and faded completely when Janus slipped his wand into Remus's hand. Remus didn't try to look at it, not when his body ached all over, but the wood was smooth under his fingers, small grooves etched into it. "My wand. I'm not... I'm not good, not nearly as good as some sorcerers back in my kingdom, but I was able to get us back."

Remus remained quiet, taking in Janus's appearance. He noticed a small cut along Janus's cheek, not nearly as deep as some of the ones he had, but still there. And some bruises along Janus's exposed arms. "Why?"

Janus tilted his head, confused. "Hmm?"

"Why'd you stay?"

Remus's fingers twitched as Janus's hand found his, and he couldn't believe how soft Janus's hands were. How warm they were. The wand was moved away, and Remus felt Janus start to draw circles into the back of his hand. "I could never live with myself if I left anyone there to die when I know I could have tried to save them."

Remus took a deep breath. "You're certainly odd, Janus." He said softly, looking at the curtains instead of Janus. "Anyone else would have-"

"Would have left you. I know. Your mom told me." Janus cupped Remus's hand in both of his. "Remus... Do you actually like living here?"

Remus's brows creased together in confusion as he looked back at Janus. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words fell out, and he turned away again. He couldn't admit that it did sting, no one wanting him around. But this was his home, and he maybe didn't like his father but he did love his mother and he liked Roman and the petty arguments they'd have. Despite that this was his home though, and that he loved most of his family...

He didn't like living there.

He didn't like the disapproving expression his father always gave him, or Roman's jabs that Remus couldn't do anything he was supposed to do. He didn't like always disappointing his mother. He saw her sad looks whenever he did something wrong, whether that be missing an important meeting or dragging mud into a ball his parents were throwing.

Janus almost missed Remus's answer, he said it so softly, one small word uttered and almost lost to the noise of the rest of the infirmary.

"No."

Janus took a deep breath, still drawing circles into Remus's hand. It was as grounding as holding his wand. "Then I have an offer."

———————–

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starstruck-xavier · 5 years ago

Text

Sleepy

ao3 || wattpad || fanfic masterpost || main masterpost || inspired by this thread

@harmonious-honeycomb and @justtrashperson i hope you like this <33 i had a lot of fun writing this! i’m sorry it took a few days but i finally managed to finish it just now aha

words: 1939 ships: lamp (romance not implied but you can view it however you want) warnings/tags: panic attack described from virgil’s pov but he’s all okay in the end, anxiety medication (but it has a good effect!)

Virgil was going to be on edge all day.

It never had to be for any reason in particular, but it would’ve made it easier to tackle the anxious tremors from the core if Virgil actually had something to say when each side came to him throughout the day asking “What’s wrong?”. First, it had been Logan, ever observant, who found Virgil sat on the counter next to the coffee machine in the morning, noting how his makeup looked just a little more intense than usual and how his hands trembled slightly around his favourite mug.

“Is that your first coffee, Virgil?” Logan asked gently, willing the coffee machine to not be as loud as usual while he made his own.

“Uh, yeah.” The nervous trait took a hesitant sip of his drink; he suddenly found it rather difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why do you ask?”

Logan kept an eye on the underlying shakiness of the ball of nerves in front of him. “You seem particularly anxious today. Is anything troubling you?”

And then Virgil thought. He’d woken up feeling a pit of nervousness in the bottom of his stomach, but that was the usual for him as the embodiment of anxiety itself, so he hadn’t given it a second thought. However, the longer he pondered, the more he realised the feeling had worsened, but there was no particular thing bothering him. Virgil racked his brains desperately for an answer but still came up empty.

Upon not receiving a response, Logan placed one hand on the counter, just close enough to Virgil in case he wanted to take it. “Virge?”

Virgil snapped out of his train of thought. “Oh, I… I don’t know. I just feel like something really bad’s gonna happen.” He spoke in his usual whisper-grumble as he stared at the half-empty mug in his hands.

“It’s normal for you to feel that way, Virgil.” Logan finally took his own mug from the coffee machine, setting it on the counter to let it cool. “However, I can assure you that as long as everyone works together today to make Thomas’ day productive and happy, there’s a very small chance that something terrible will happen. Try to let that reassure you.” He spoke softly, watching Virgil with care as if he were a fragile sculpture. “Even if you still feel nervous, that’s okay. Would you like me to let everyone else know so that we don’t accidentally scare you?”

After a few seconds, Virgil hummed in affirmation. “Thanks, Logan.” He didn’t need to smile to convey his thankfulness, and Logan understood.

“No problem. Try to take it easy today, and remember the breathing techniques.” The logical trait picked up his mug and gave Virgil a reassuring glance before pausing. “Do you want me to accompany you for a little longer?”

Virgil quickly drank the rest of his coffee and set the mug aside. “I— I don’t mind.” He bit back his smile. Logan always knew just what to do without making a huge deal out of it, likely learning from past experiences of nervous days like this. It was those little things he always remembered that put Virgil at ease.

They both sat in silence for a few more minutes. The quiet was nice; Virgil was starting to wake up fully and Logan got to savour these few moments of peace before Roman and Patton inevitably started making noise. Not that either of them minded this, but they often missed the quiet, serene mornings. While it didn’t lower Virgil’s anxiety levels, however, it kept them at a constant, which was at least better than panicking so early in the morning and distressing Thomas.

It was a couple of hours later, after breakfast, that Virgil knew this would be a tough day for himself and Thomas.

Logan had told Patton and Roman to keep it down today, and they’d never object to something that would make Virgil feel better, so the quietness and soft smiles followed them all throughout the mind palace. As opposed to bursting into song and dance at any moment, Roman hummed to himself pleasantly as he made his way around and Patton tried his best not to skip around noisily or appear out of nowhere. In fact, it was Patton who chanced upon the anxious side as he sat on the couch in the common room, looking more troubled than before.

“Hey, kiddo.” He called, not too loud, as he made his way over to sit next to him. “How are you feeling?”

Virgil looked up from his phone with a sad look on his face. “Hi, Pat. I’m…” He started to pull at his sleeves absentmindedly with a sigh. “Anxious.”

Patton watched, looking concerned. “Do you want a hug?” He held out his arms, allowing Virgil to lean into his touch. “It’s all gonna be okay, Virge.” The nervous trait breathed shakily in Patton’s embrace as he let the warm feeling distract him from the growing pit of dread within him.

Meanwhile, in the real world, Thomas was taking deep breaths.

He knew that bad days could happen without much reason, so he didn’t want to trouble Virgil too much by summoning him, knowing that he was probably having just as bad a day as him. Still, he wanted to ask for Virgil’s permission before taking the anxiety medication that sat on the shelf, waiting for these nervous spikes. They could make the nervous trait feel quite sleepy, nothing too bad, but if Virgil suddenly started feeling tired he’d be confused and a little scared himself. Thomas didn’t want to do that to him without letting him know first; he’d wait until he felt a dose was more needed, though, as it didn’t feel like his anxiety had peaked yet.

That would come another few hours later.

Since no one was doing much that day, it allowed for Patton and Virgil to cuddle for quite some time. At some point, Patton had turned on Adventure Time on the television and Virgil was trying to focus on it, but he just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of his heart rate increasing until he couldn’t even try to ignore it. A sense of dread overwhelmed him and he didn’t even know why, or how, or for how long. He found himself looking around, vigilant for any signs of danger, completely blocking out the fact that any possible monsters or end-of-the-world scenarios would be imaginary and could be conjured away.

“Virge?” Patton’s voice cut through the chaos, redirecting Virgil’s eyes to his. “Breathe in, kiddo.”

Virgil attempted to hold his breath, but his lungs short-circuited; the air came rushing out again and back in, back out, too fast…

“Hey, hey, Virgil. Look at me, bud.” He opened his eyes, not remembering when he’d even closed them. Patton’s worried face looked hazy before him. “It’s all gonna be okay, yeah?” His voice sounded like static. Virgil tried to bring the air into his lungs again, only holding on for a second before it escaped him again.

Suddenly, more voices could be heard around him.

“Patton, we need to tell Thomas to take his medication.”

“Roman, please can you stay with Virge?”

“Virgil, it’s me, Roman. can you look at me?”

Virgil had his eyes squeezed shut again, feeling lost as soon as Patton’s touch left him, but then almost immediately he felt a different pair of hands in his hair. On his hands. When did his hands start gripping at his hair? The hands softly squeezed his own until he let go of his locks.

“Take a deep breath in. I’ll count for you, okay?” A familiar voice reached his ringing ears. He could feel a heartbeat under his hands - his eyes opened once again to reveal Roman coming into focus. The prince had kneeled down on the floor in front of Virgil and pressed his hands against his own chest, letting him feel his sash and how his chest expanded and contracted so easily. He gasped the air into his lungs, a little faster than Roman’s counting, but managed to hold his breath for just a little longer than last time before it all rushed out. “Can you hear me, stormcloud?” Roman spoke clearly in his attempt to get Virgil to respond. The nervous trait nodded, still visibly shaking and breathing raggedly. “Do you know where you are?”

“The—“ Virgil stammered breathlessly, blinking rapidly in order to keep focus. He barely acknowledged his tempest tongue. “The mind palace?”

Roman nodded calmly. “That’s right, you’re in the common room. You’re having an anxiety attack. Can you take a couple more deep breaths?”

Virgil breathed in as deeply as he could until his lungs couldn’t expand any further. He held his breath while Roman counted to seven, then successfully exhaled slowly until he’d counted to eight. As opposed to the royal trait’s usual boisterous, loud theatrics, his voice sounded quiet and focussed. He held Virgil’s hands gently and directed him through his breathing in a way that released the tension from his shoulders. After a few minutes, he sighed deeply, suddenly feeling rather drowsy.

“Are you okay, Virge?” Roman let go of Virgil’s hands but touched his own to the anxious side’s knees.

“Mm,” He hunched over and stifled a yawn. “Sleepy.”

He registered Roman’s fond smile. “Patton and Logan went to talk to Thomas. He must’ve taken his anxiety meds by now, so you’ll be getting sleepy.”

As if on cue, Patton and Logan rose up again in Virgil’s peripheral. Patton rushed over to sit next to him while Logan stood by Roman’s side, seemingly monitoring for any symptoms other than the sudden decrease in energy. Just in case.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” Patton watched Virgil’s eyes droop slightly, then force themselves back open.

“He’s tired already.” Roman answered for him. “Maybe he’ll get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Logan smiled slightly at the remark. “He definitely will. Thank you for calming him down, Roman.”

Patton hummed in agreement. Roman looked bashful but proud of himself as he rubbed calming circles into Virgil’s knees with his thumbs.

“No problem, specs.”

The four of them spent the rest of the day together, picking up where Virgil and Patton had left off watching Adventure Time. Logan didn’t seem entirely interested and was frankly confused by the cartoon logic, but Virgil had ended up with his legs across those of the logical trait, so he didn’t want to disturb him by leaving. Besides, it brought him peace to know that Virgil wasn’t mentally suffering any longer. The rest of Virgil’s body laid across Roman with his head in Patton’s lap, not feeling like he was actually going to fall asleep just yet but still looking like he was on the brink of slumber. Occasionally Roman would tease him on how cuddly he got when he was tired, and Virgil would shoot back with his usual retorts, only hindered by the lethargic slur of his words. Patton found himself carding his hands through Virgil’s soft hair after some time, and Logan couldn’t help but run his hands up and down his legs for additional comfort. Meanwhile, Roman held one of his hands in his own. It felt wonderful. No one could blame him when he eventually dozed off like this, his quiet breaths barely heard over the low volume of the television, earning fond looks between Logan, Patton and Roman.

Sometimes Virgil would wake up feeling panicked for no particular reason, but it was all okay as long as he got to fall asleep like this in the end.

#sanders sides #tsss #tss #thomas sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #stop making anxiety meds hurt virgil 2k20

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ngame989 · 5 years ago

Text

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989

Art: @toxicpsychox

Editing: @toxicpsychox, @seddm, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.

#jantom #starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #tgg svtfoe #fanfic

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eddtober · 5 years ago

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EDDTOBER MASTERPOST 2019!

ABOUT:

Eddtober is a list of prompts made in an effort to encourage the Eddsworld Fandom to spread their wings of creativity beyond the norms that they are used to, during the month of October.

It is all without harming others or causing drama, a neutral ground for all fans of Eddsworld to come and have fun, no matter what side of a discourse they’re in.

It hopes to promote inspiration beyond the usual over-dramatised content, to revive a spirit in Eddsworld that hasn’t been seen in many years, and to stretch the invitation to all who can create.

Eddtober calls not only the artists who have a talent for drawing and painting and so forth, but also: the authors (fanfics, journalists, essayists, diarists, poets, ramblers), the cosplayers, the video-makers (animators, video essays, memers, youtubers), the gamers (game devs, let’s plays) and more. Eddtober calls for all those who want to be inspired with unconventional creativity.

So Eddheads: come forth, be inspired and make something new!

With that out the way, steel yourselves - this post is gonna be a long one under the cut!

RULES:

Base Rules need to be set so everyone can participate in Eddtober safely and in a fun way. Please read them carefully!

Always tag it with #eddtober and tag appropriately! Of course, the first part is easy. In regards to the second part, there’s three categories. All they have in common is that they must be tagged with their own tag and NOT in the main eddtober tag. These specific tags musn’t be shortened or reimagined either, just to make sure. Side Note: If you don’t want to see ANY of these things mentioned in the categories, it’s recommended that you get some form of a blacklist extention, either Tumblr Savior, xKit, or even tumblr itself to hide those things from you. Though do beware - be careful when looking through the blog since… Yeah, it’s hard to blacklist stuff through there. a) Gore. Gore and related NSFW is allowed in the challenge, but please tag it as #Eddtober gore, alongside the appropriate trigger warnings of the subject as #tw -trigger here- . The creative piece should also be posted with a ‘keep reading’ redirection so it isn’t immediately seen by those who are repulsed by it. b) Shipping. As of 2019, shipping is now officially allowed and acceptable in the challenge! If you have any ships implied or shown in a prompt response, always use #eddtober shipping and what ship it is in a seperate tag. c) (In)Famous Fan Projects. As of 2019, a lot of dividing opinions have been flying around the community and splitting people apart. In an event of unity and neutrality, these opinions are still welcomed, but still have to be done carefully. If you’re in favour of a fan-project, go ahead and tag them alongside ’#eddtober fan project’. But if you’re not, then you don’t have to tag them - just use ’#eddtober fan project salt’. And yes, those are the exact tags. No need to alter them here.

Be Sensitive and Respectful to Others. I know many of us here in this fandom can take easy offence to certain creations, so please consider and think on your creative piece before you make and post it. If it’s intentionally insulting and offensive, don’t post or even create it at all.

Credit Where Due. This should be blatantly obvious right now, but please, please don’t steal other’s creative fanwork or post it without credit. Always have permission from the creator to post something of their’s, regardless of the social media, and always have their username when you post it, not just ‘credit to the artist/original person’. If you do not follow this, actions will be taken for your consequences. This also goes for spreading Eddtober - always place a link to this blog if you spread the list to other social medias!

Keep your situation and life chill. You can do one prompt for Eddtober, some of the prompts or all of them - up to you! It’s understandable if life gets in the way. The goal of Eddtober is not to do every prompt, but to be inspired to create fan-content in a way you usually wouldn’t have.

Spread the word. This is less of a rule and more of a personal request from Admin Chris, but since she doesn’t have many social media accounts you’d expect, spreading word of Eddtober (with appropriate credit back to this blog) would mean a LOT, so they can join in the fun too!

Sharing is caring. Reblogging and sharing from your fellow creators doing Eddtober would be great to give them a motivation and confidence boost! (Keep in mind that reposting is not the same as reblogging, unless proper credit is given with the original artists’ permission.)

Go Beyond the Boundaries of Your Imagination. The whole purpose of Eddtober is to promote new, fresh things to come up in the Eddsworld fandom and break a cycle of the same old that’s been there for a while. Take a leap, spread your wings, do your best, and go have fun.

BOUNDARIES:

Most of this list will be related to Rule Two of Eddtober:

Be Sensitive and Respectful to Others.

Quote:

‘I know many of us here in this fandom can take easy offence to certain creations, so please consider and think on your creative piece before you post.‘

Whilst Eddtober is a fun, neutral place to spread our creative wings, there are boundaries that need to be taken in order to keep everyone safe. Which means certain parts that are usually seen as ‘common’ within the Eddsworld Fandom will not be acceptable in the challenge. This list is just to make sure that we as the Eddtober community can set a good standard for the fandom and for ourselves.

Edd Gould’s death. Admin Chris wishes to make it clear that creative pieces that draws clear lines to Edd’s passing IS NOT okay. This includes Edd (IRL and the character) in hospital for cancer, Angel Edd or any AU that depicts him as a divine being of any sort (including Blessworld), in Heaven or Hell (as an actual denizen there, not a tourist like in Hello Hellhole. There’s a strong difference). Here at Eddtober, Edd's life is something to be celebrated, not his death. It’s uncomfortable to see this thing happen and should be steered clear of.

Fetishisation/Sexualisation of Religions and Faiths. This is another reason why AUs such as Blessworld aren’t okay. In regards to that AU, the sexualisation and the horrendous acts done within the Catholic church is a highly sensitive topic that’s still debated over even in real life. So things such as ‘sexy’ nuns and priests and so forth are a strong insult to them. This is only one example though, and I’m not saying you can’t explore faiths and combine them with Eddsworld, but I HIGHLY recommend doing your research on the faith or religion and its history before creating for Eddtober.

Edd’s old IRL Friends. This is regarding Prompts 27 and 28 for the most part. Whilst Edd Gould did draw his pals into comics and Eddisodes, making them their own characters (quite clearly), many of them might not want to be associated with Eddsworld or Edd after his passing or after the legacy season. So out of respect for their wishes, please do not involve Edd’s actual old IRL friends in your creative pieces unless they say they’re okay with it. This will vary from person to person, so do not also take one answer from one person and apply that as an umbrella motive. If you get no response from the person regarding this if you ask them yourself, then take it as a NO and don’t involve them in the creative piece. This doesn’t mean that you cannot use the Eddsworld character based off of them (unless they straight-up say so). You’re perfectly able to, but to avoid future confusion, a person’s Eddsworld character IS NOT the same as the real-life person. For example, using Tom from Eddsworld in a piece is okay, but using Thomas ‘TomSka’ Ridgewell himself for the same Eddsworld piece isn’t. (Disclaimer: Said example may not be 100% accurate unless there’s further information about this. This is a fictional example, after all.)

The real guys’ last names/surnames. I really didn’t want to say this in here and it hasn’t happened in Eddtober yet, but when Legacy ended, one of Tom’s last says was that the fans shouldn’t use the IRL last names of Eddsworld crewmembers (specifically actors and animators) for the characters. It’s an effort to seperate the characters from the real-life people. This means when creating your pieces, you don’t use: -Edd Gould -Tom Ridgewell -Matt Hargreaves -Tord Larsson And so forth. You’re welcome to come up with your own last names for the characters, but please don’t use the old IRL ones. Unfortunately since this habit is starting to pop back up in bits of the fandom, I want to make it clear that isn’t cool or tolerated, and action will be taken if I see it happen in here.

Sinsworld. Believe it or not, the sinsworld tag was specifically made back in the day to keep the porn out of the main. But due to a certain in-fandom event, this intended action has been long-lost. Because of all of these events, any sinsworld (porn, lewds and related sexual NSFW) that’s Sinspired by the Eddtober prompts WILL NOT be accepted into the blog or any other official Eddtober accounts by any means. This is because many in this fandom are minors/underage and more who are 18+ are repulsed to porn and such (Admin Chris is part of the latter group). It is fine to be sexually inspired by the prompts and create stuff for them, but PLEASE don’t tag that Sinsworld content with Eddtober.

Abusive/Self-Harm Creative Content, Gorey or not. No. Just. No. I don’t wish to deny vent or darker creations. It is good to release your frustrations and express personal issues in what you create, but there are safe and appropriate ways to do so in the challenge. Death wishing, abuse, suicide/suicide idealisation, self-harm and/or similar are NOT allowed to be depicted in the challenge and should NEVER be romanticised or supported. Eddtober aims to be a safe and uplifting place for all creative people, no matter what their space is at the moment.

Shipping. On a similar note - whilst shipping is allowed, there are of course some things we don’t allow out of respect for everyone: -Shipping of the IRL people. -Sexual or abusive ship dynamics and tropes. -Ship-bashing or insulting ships. I’m sure there will be more to add to the list as I continue getting asks regarding this, but in the meantime, please don’t let yourself fall into creating for this.

Gore beyond Eddsworld’s levels. Gore has been a staple of Eddsworld since the early episodes, and it won’t be refused in the challenge. However, there are limits to how far this gore will go as of 2019, and it will be made clear here. -Guts This was allowed in Eddtober 2018, but as of now this is no longer the case. A lot of Eddheads expressed discomfort at the idea of guts hanging out of bodies as of the 2019 preparation survey, and I agree with them. This will also be extended to zombification/zombies. -Romanticised/‘Fashionable’ Gore. Absolutely not. Using the creative properties of gore to make someone look more ‘attractive’ in a sexualised manner is against the earlier boundaries. -Gore of Edd Gould, or his old IRL friends. This hasn’t happened, but it is good to make this clear in case some people are really naive about this: DO NOT DO THIS. That’s just straight-up offensive. -Gore of Prompts 27 to 30 (and potentially 31). Obviously. Since these last few prompts are about expressing your love and appreciation to the fandom, it doesn’t make sense on why you’d make something gutsy-gorey about some wholesome times. Especially in regards to Prompts Twenty-Seven and Twenty-Eight (Which was also just technically mentioned above, but the point has been made).

(In)Famous fan-projects. In the past year or so, certain fan projects have gathered a strong following - both for love and hate. Unfortunately, due to this hate being especially loud in 2019, action had to be taken for this. It’s not to say that you can’t express your opinions of a project, but there’s a safe way for all in doing so. For the others around you, and for yourself too. So if you’re going to create things that relate to either side of the argument you’re on, I will NOT allow straight-up insulting stuff to either side. Be it horrendous caricatures of the creators, vaguing about others through a story, plain old bashing or other means, I will NOT let it be shared around. More so, if this is kept up, I’ll most likely disregard your creations entirely since I don’t wish to endorse hurtful people. Especially through this event.

With all that said and done, let’s get to the ACTUAL prompts!

Quick reminder: when this list says ‘create something for’, it’s not just referring to fanart. It refers to any medium - digital, traditional or unconventional - that can be used. The challenge here is to be creative as possible, not to stay conventional.

The List features Admin Chris’s Commentary. Some useless, some useful.

Create something for Edd. (Not his real-life counterpart, but the character. That needed some clearing up based on 2017’s results.)

Create something for Tom.

Create something for Matt

Create something for any pre-legacy season episode, except WTFuture. (You can do WTFuture if you want, but seeing that much of this fandom is currently made of people who came in after The End… It’d be worth having a crack at other pre-legacy episodes.)

Create something for or with the crew’s symbols. (An example of symbols being a cola can for Edd, something blue for Tom, a mirror for Matt, etc.)

Create something for Superhero Alter Egos! (It doesn’t have to stop at PowerEdd’s canon either! Go nuts! Give Edd and his friends new superhero alibis and outfits!)

Create something for Supervillain Alter Egos! (Reminder that it doesn’t have to stop at the ‘Green/Blue/Purple/Red Leader scenario! Again, go nuts! Get wacky if you must!)

Create something for Minor characters of the show. (Except the Neighbours - they already have their own prompt.)

Create something for descendants of the main four guys. (Sure, you can make it about the love children of your favourite ships, but the point of this prompt specifically is to not be ship-related. See if you can come up with descendant characters from the bloodlines of the main four. If not, shipping is fine.)

Create something for Tord. (He’s late in this list for a reason. Trust me.)

Create something for the neighbours of 29 Dirdum Lane. Are Kim and Katya still there, or are there newbies in the street?

Create something for the neighbours of 25 Dirdum Lane.

Create something for unlucky things happening to the guys, or one of them. Feel free to go as dark or as humourous as you like!

Create something for genderbends of the guys, maybe as if the Ellsworld we know never existed. Or you can stick to canon, up to you.

This prompt is a wild card. Do with it as you wish. (In 2017 everyone was told to quote: ‘go whole hog on this’. The next thing we all knew, everybody literally drew pigs with the guys. That wasn’t supposed to be literally taken, but by god it was hilarious.)

Create something for your crew. Whether you’re the main character with your friends or have OCs taking that place or a mix of both is up to you.

Create something for an AU of Eddsworld. You can make one up on the spot, or even fan content for an AU that already exists is cool too. (As of rule number two of Eddtober, the Blessworld AU will not be accepted for this prompt. I know it is popular, but if you have any issues with this, please contact me in the blog asks myself.)

Create something for Eddsworld as a video game. Whether it’s concepts and covers for your own ideas or fanart for games in the making such as Eddsworld Armageddon, up to you. Heck, why not make a demo?

Create something for Todd, or whoever the ‘Tord’ figure is of 25 Dirdum Lane.

Create something for a Saloonatics-WTFuture Crossover. (What? Shenanigans could be made here, guys. Just take it!)

Create something for the future selves of the guys. Or if you want to take it up a notch, make your own versions of them! Have them all be hobos (#HoBrosforlife), or have cola not be banned in the future… up to you!

The End who? Create something for and/or elaborate on how you would finish off the Eddsworld Legacy season. (For the purposes of this prompt, I can accept an angsty end for this, but I personally do not recommend it.)

Create something for Zanta. (I guess you could call him a Nightmare Before Christmas, then.)

Create something for an Eddsworld movie. Whether it’s stuff for the Eddsworld Fan Movie or your own ideas, up to you!

Create something for the deal with Tom’s eyes. If you want to call them that.

Pick a song, any song, and put that on repeat. Use it as inspiration to create something in relation to Eddsworld.

Create something for Edd Gould himself. Not his character in Eddsworld, the real-life person.

An obligatory prompt without Eddtober in the beginning: create something for Edd’s birthday. (This was made into a prompt and will permanently remain as one as Edd’s birthday shouldn’t be taken away from today.)

Create something for someone/multiple someones in the fandom who inspire you - even the small artists and writers and such who are just starting out!

Create something for who or what got you into EW. What's your story? How did you get here? (Do you have 90 minutes?)

Create something for you being inserted into Eddsworld in any way. (Because here in Eddtober, cringe culture is dead and we don’t hesitate to self-insert.) Be it you hanging with the guys or going on an eddventure, the context and situation is up to you!

VETERANS! Have you already done a prompt and don’t want to repeat yourself? Then check out the list of Eddstra Prompts here!

Phew! Alright, that’s everything. If you have any suggestions or questions about the challenge, please feel free to shoot an ask through the blog. Thanks for reading and have a safe and awesome Eddtober!

#Eddsworld #eddtober #eddtober 2019 #founder chris talks

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 5 years ago

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Moonlight Chapter 14: Cruciatus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 14/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Thirteen+

Chapter Fifteen+ >>

Severus worked steadily in the Lee’s potions room, his movements as controlled and methodical as if he had been at Hogwarts brewing without a care in the world. A batch each of Blood Replenisher and Wound Reducer bubbled quietly in the cauldrons before him. It was a peaceful scene from the outside and one would never know by looking at him that the usually aloof man was fairly sick with worry and anger within.

How was it that Miranda had managed to disappear within twenty minutes? Why did she possess this special talent for getting herself into trouble? How long could she possibly hope to survive living her life this way? And how long could he stand the anxiety of waiting for her to return either maimed or dead? It was one thing to face danger and death himself; that he was used to. But he had never been comfortable with the idea of those he cared for facing the same. Not that he was admitting to caring overmuch for her—no, not at all. But he found that his mind kept creating worse and worse scenarios, all of which ended with Miranda being murdered by the Dark Lord.

He had been watching the clock obsessively for the last hour and a half, impatiently waiting for two o’clock in the morning. at two, he would go and demand that Mrs. Lee send an Auror after the idiot Americans. Why was Aaron Lee so incompetent that he couldn’t be trusted to keep track of Miranda for a few hours at a party? Severus couldn’t be expected to watch the fool woman every moment. Even when he was watching her, it didn’t seem to do much good.

At one minute before two, he decided he had waited long enough. He set a cold, intimidating expression on his face and started out of the potions room to frighten Mrs. Lee into doing what she should have done an hour ago. His hand was on the doorknob when the silence in the flat was broken by the slamming of the front door and the obnoxiously loud singing voice of Mr. Lee.

“My Cindy got religion, she had it once before! But when she hears my ol’ banjo, she’s the first one on the floor!”

Aaron’s voice resounded through the flat and Rachel and Miranda’s laughter soon mingled with it. Relief rushed through Severus so strongly that he put a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. If Miranda was laughing, then she was alive and probably not terribly injured. He felt as though he could draw breath for the first time since he had realized she was missing. He turned back to the cauldrons, wanting to compose himself before he went out into the fray. The three Americans were talking so quickly and laughing so loudly that it was impossible to understand anything they were saying through the closed door. It was just as well. He needed a moment of quiet before he could face them.

He was not quite ready when he heard the door to the potions room open.

“Sorry I’m late,” Miranda said cheerfully. “I hope you were nice to Rachel.”

“Being as I am working for her without pay, it would appear so,” he replied, his voice cool and even. He kept his back to Miranda and his eyes on the cauldrons. Now that he had absorbed his initial relief that she was alive, he had time to be properly angry at her.

“Oh, don’t be angry, Severus. I have a good excuse.”

Her lighthearted tone only made him angrier. “Don’t you always?”

She sighed with what sounded like exasperation. “Honestly, don’t you think you’re being a bit unfair? Are you actually angry at me because I inconvenienced you?”

“No,” he answered. His voice was quiet, but he used it like a whip. “I am angry with you because thanks to your inability to follow simple instructions, I have spent the last two hours assuming that you were being tortured and killed.”

He heard her come into the room and felt her put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s much easier to face the danger than it is to wait for someone to come back from it,” she said. “I’d rather do the former than the latter myself.”

He finally looked at her and couldn’t quite keep his face from showing how startled he was by the state she was in.

“Bathing in the blood of virgins again, I see,” he said dryly.

She smiled. “Your friend Lucius decided it was time to consummate our relationship with a duel. I was winning, so he dumped me in a pit with a tebo. I’d have been back an hour ago, but I couldn’t just leave all that wonderful hide there, now could I?”

He shook his head at her and said sarcastically, “No. I suppose you would have been a fool to leave it.”

She continued to smile and replied coaxingly, “I brought you a present too.”

He raised an eyebrow and noticed the large bag sitting on the floor by the door. It felt heavy when he lifted it onto a table for examination. He opened it slowly and his eyes widened a bit as he realized what it contained.

“I seem to remember an article you published a few years ago about how tebo parts would make stronger variants of certain potions. Unfortunately, they are prohibitively expensive,” she said smugly.

He stared at the perfectly butchered organs, hooves, and tusks all cozily nestled in their own pockets in the bag. His anger melting away, he lifted his head and his eyes gleamed at her.

She was reckless. She was barbaric. She was completely mad.

She was magnificent.

“As I said, you always have an excuse,” he repeated, his tone losing its bite. He closed the bag and started to pull her into his arms, but she inhaled sharply and flinched.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Malfoy thought it would be fun to hit me with a bout of Cruciatus,” she answered, her voice starting to sound exhausted. “I’ve had better, but I guess the smoke and the adrenaline are starting to wear off. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit of a tease. I doubt I’ll be able to make good on my implied promise of physical bliss tonight.”

“I think it is time to take you home,” he said quietly.

With a flick of his wand, the bag rose into the air and hung there, as if on a string. He put his arm around Miranda’s shoulder to steer her out of the room. She flinched as his arm came in contact with her cursed body, but then she settled against him, apparently glad for the support. The bag floated obediently behind them as they came into the kitchen where Aaron and Rachel sat at the table, heads together like a pair of turtledoves.

“I think I’ve had all the fun I can handle for now,” Miranda said with a tired smile.

“It was just like old times, wasn’t it?” Aaron replied, grinning at her. “Leave what’s left of your wand here. I might be able to find traces of the curse on it.”

“I’m not planning to press charges against Malfoy.”

“I figured that. But I think it’s a good thing to have in our pocket, just in case.”

She shrugged and fished out the pieces of her wand.

“How encouraging to see that you take such good care of your things,” Severus said as she tossed them on the table.

She rolled her eyes at him. “It broke when I fell into the pit. Actually, I don’t mind. Now I can replace it with an unregistered one.”

“Your wand is registered?” he asked incredulously.

“All wands in America are registered and it’s a royal pain.”

“How draconian.”

“Well, you can bet I won’t register my next one unless someone makes me.”

“I’m not hearing this conversation,” Aaron said pointedly.

Severus frowned. “I believe that Mr. Ollivander takes his vacation at this time of year. I doubt you will be able to replace it until late next week.”

“I guess you’ll just have to baby-sit me until then,” Miranda teased.

“Or you can leave her here,” Aaron said with a wink. “We’re used to her antics.”

Severus gave Aaron a withering look. “I suppose I require some sort of trouble to occupy me during the Holidays.” He gave Rachel a short bow and added, “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Lee.”

“You’re welcome professor,” Rachel replied good-naturedly. “Although I think you should call me Rachel. Those of use who know the difficulties of managing these two have to stick together.”

Severus wasn’t sure he cared for the American’s casual address, but he wasn’t sure he cared to alienate her either. He gave her a noncommittal nod and flicked his wand at the second bag of tebo harvest that sat on the kitchen floor. Then he guided Miranda out of the flat with the bags floating behind them. When they reached the street, a fog blew in by way of an unfelt breeze. It was oddly warm as they walked through it, and when they emerged on the other side, they were standing on the lane leading to her cabin. She was limping openly by then, so he lifted her as gently as he could and carried her the rest of the way. She flinched and started to protest at first, but then she gave a sigh of resignation and laid her head against his shoulder.

After they entered the cabin, he deposited her on the sofa and drew her a bath. He rummaged in the potions closet, muttering irritably about its disorder. No matter—he would remedy that problem tomorrow. It took some time, but he eventually found a bottle of dittany and a measure of healing herbs. He added the latter to the bathwater and then went about the task of removing Miranda’s bloodstained clothing. She did what she could to help, but it was obvious that movement was becoming more and more difficult for her as the night progressed. He ended up carrying her to the bath as well, and she did not bother to argue.

A quiet moan of pain escaped her lips as she slid into the hot water, but once the initial shock passed, she relaxed into the tub. He applied a dose of dittany to the gash on her arm and then took down her tangled hair. She closed her eyes while he combed it with deft, practiced motions and by the time he had finished, she had started to doze off. He woke her reluctantly before she was completely asleep and helped her out of the bath. She leaned heavily against the wall while he dried her and dressed her in a cotton nightgown. Her face was pale and drawn with pain by then, so he picked her up a third time and carried her like a child to the bed.

He puttered around the cabin for another hour or so, storing the tebo parts for processing the next day. He thumbed through an American book on potions and indulged in a glass of wine from the bar. The potions in the book involving native flora intrigued him and he wondered how many of the plants might grow in England. Perhaps he could drop a hint to Pomona about the more interesting varieties. To his pleasant surprise, he discovered one of his nightshirts in Miranda’s armoire. He felt a bit foolish that he was so pleased that she had kept it—much as he felt foolish for keeping the comb she had forgotten in his chambers in the drawer of the table next to his bed.

He changed and finally lay down next to her. The light of the setting moon filtered through the curtains and he marveled at how deceptively innocent she appeared when she was asleep. A lock of her hair had fallen across her face and he brushed it back as he studied her. He fully expected that she was going to be the death of him. But he was well aware that there were worse ways to die.

*****

It was late afternoon by the time Miranda awoke the next day. She stretched her aching body and climbed slowly out of bed, quite pleased with the previous evening’s events. As she paced her room to work out some of the kinks in her limbs leftover from the tebo toss, the scent of fresh bread and chicken soup wafted through the door. A bemused smile spread across her face and she recalled the time she had spent at Severus's house after the werewolf incident. He was a good, if utilitarian, cook and she was touched now--as she had been then--at the care he took of her when she was injured.

She decided it was a day for night clothes and pulled on her dressing gown before making her way to the bathroom to wash the sleep from her eyes. She spent a longer time than strictly necessary to comb and arrange her hair. As she braided just enough of it to keep it out of her eyes, she tried to control that giddy feeling that always threatened to overtake her when Severus did something thoughtful. His demeanor was so bristly most of the time and he worked so hard to act as though he didn't care a fig about her that his sporadic acts of tenderness knocked her a bit off kilter. They made her want to let down her guard in spite of how she had been burned by love in the past. But she doubted that was a wise thing to do with him. He seemed so tangled up inside that she hesitated even to consider offering him more than he might be able to appreciate. Especially when she was so ambivalent herself.

She did indeed find a pot of soup simmering on the stove when she emerged from the bathroom. Her stomach started growling as she gave it a stir and she dished herself up a bowl. She set it on the table to cool for a bit and noticed that Severus had already packed the tebo hide in a tub of salt to cure.

“I see you are remarkably lazy today,” he said as he appeared in the doorway of the potions room.

“And you are criminally industrious,” she replied, crossing to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to be kissed. He obliged her, but handled her as though he were afraid of hurting her. She parted her lips to deepen the kiss and, while he made that strangled noise in his throat again, he pulled away.

“No,” he said sternly as he traced her lips with his finger. “You are going to rest today that I might have the full use of your body tonight.”

“If that’s the price of your cooking and cleaning, I guess it’s worth it,” she said playfully. She glanced over his shoulder and started at the state of her tiny potions room. Slipping past him into it, she saw that it was more than half empty. Most of the potions she had made were missing, along with all of the clutter. What was left was meticulously arranged and labeled in a cramped handwriting.

“What did you do to my potions room?” she demanded in a mock-angry tone.

“Your potions room was a disgrace to wizarding kind. I am in the process of making it acceptable, to which end I must make a trip back to Hogwarts for supplies. I don’t suppose it is possible for a civilized person such as myself to find this cabin without a barbarian to show me the way.”

She raised an eyebrow at him saucily. “I don’t know. If you decide to run away in a week or two because I’ve pissed you off it will be a lot of trouble to change the hearthstone.”

He gave her an exasperated look and she laughed at him lightly.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

As he went to the sofa, she knelt stiffly in front of the fireplace. She waved her hand over the flames and they started burning a rich, deep red.

After a moment she thrust her hand into them, all the way down to the hearthstone. Gathering some of the ashes, she withdrew her fist from the fire. As soon as her hand was clear, the flames returned to their usual orange color. She pushed herself up off of the floor and brought the ash to Severus. She had to put a hand on his knee to steady herself as she knelt in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

When he complied, she smeared ash on his eyelids and then on his hands as well. Each bit of ash shown brilliantly white for a moment, and then disappeared into his skin. She knew it was burning him and pricking him like a thousand tiny needles, but she also knew it was not a painful sensation.

“You can open them,” she said when the ash had vanished. “Now when you Apparate here, you’ll be able to see the cabin and open the door.”

He smirked at her. “Am I still to be denied the famous Homing Spell?”

“I’m afraid so. Only family members can share a Homing Spell.”

“How sentimental.” He gave her his hand to help her up from her knees and onto the sofa, then he brought her the bowl of soup and some bread and butter to go with it.

“You will stay here until I return,” he said imperiously. “If I find that you have left this cabin, I will strangle you myself.”

“Your wish is my command,” she replied sarcastically, tearing into the food. It was delicious, but she didn’t want to further inflate his ego by telling him so. He gathered his cloak and pulled back her hair to kiss the back of her neck. She couldn’t contain the purring noise this elicited and he left the cabin with an expression of smug superiority on his face.

She enjoyed a leisurely meal and even helped herself to seconds. When she had finished, she cleaned the dishes and then read through Part VI of Song of the Lark. She didn’t want to start another novel straight away, so she examined the new, improved potions room. She would have to make an effort to maintain it after Severus had put so much work into reorganizing it. It amused her that he was so fussy about some things, but that was probably part of what made him good at potions in the first place.

The silence started to sound too loud, so she switched on the wireless. She fiddled with the dial for quite a while without finding anything agreeable, so she switched it back off and opened a drawer in the front of her desk. Out popped a small turntable and a pair of matching speakers. Another drawer revealed ten or so records and she flipped through them, debating about the kind of mood she was in. Finally choosing one, she set it spinning and a scratchy female voice filled the cabin.

“…You say that it’s over now…”

Satisfied, she went back to the sofa and fished out the most recent issue of the Quibbler from a stack on the coffee table. She lit a cigarette and settled in to read.

*****

“….Freedom is just another word for nothin’ left to lose…”

“What on earth is that loathsome din?” Severus demanded when he returned from his errands laden with packages.

She laughed. “Part of the soundtrack of my misbegotten youth. But we can listen to something else if you’d rather.” She pulled herself up from the sofa and took the needle off the record. After returning it to the drawer, she started flipping through the choices again, wondering what could possibly please the man.

He shook his head at her and started unpacking in the kitchen. “I find it ironic that the woman who lectures me about missing meals had let her own pantry dwindle so low."

“Oh, that,” she said nonchalantly. “You see, I’m going to be leaving the country soon.”

He stopped unpacking and turned to give her a withering look. “When exactly were you planning to give me that pertinent information?” His voice was soft, which meant he was, of course, getting angry.

She kept her tone light and her eyes firmly on the records. “I’d like to remind you that you’ve been entitled to know my business for less than twenty-four hours. During which time, I might add, I’ve bested Malfoy in a duel and single-handedly killed and butchered a tebo.”

“I don’t require reminding. Where are you going?”

She paused over the records, debating what to tell him. All the secrecy was beginning to get on her nerves and she wondered, not for the first time, why Albus had warned her against telling Severus much of her mission. If Severus was such an expert Occlumens, then why did it matter if he knew?

Finally she said, “I’m going to Romania. I went to Hogwarts the other night to ask Albus for help putting some distance between Malfoy and myself. Distance that I think is even more warranted after last night’s festivities. Albus pointed out that Romania is an excellent place to hide this time of year and, lo and behold, I received a tip about a large black dog and a Hippogriff keeping company around Săpânţa.”

“I see that you and Albus are now on a first name basis.”

She shrugged. “He gave me a cigarette and promised to pay me off when this charade of a case is over. I guess I’m easy.”

“I’m well aware of how easy you are,” he snapped.

His tone irritated her more than his words did. “You know,” she said cooly,“you could just say that you’re going to miss me instead of being nasty.”

He clenched his teeth and a muscle in his jaw started twitching, but he returned to unpacking the groceries without saying whatever insult had popped into his mind.

She pulled a record out of the drawer and went on, “I’ll be back for those monthly meetings, so it’s not as though you’ll never see me again. It’ll probably be better for your productivity anyway. I expect I’m a terrible distraction when I’m around.”

“I find that my productivity markedly improves after a bit of recreation,” he muttered. He added in a louder voice, “How do you intend to keep Lucius from murdering you at these farcical meetings?”

“By scheduling them so that Aaron can collect me when he goes to have lunch with his friend in the Ministry.” He glared at her and she quickly added, “On time too! Aaron knows I’m always on time to work obligations.”

“Somehow I find that difficult to believe.”

“You’ll just have to believe it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t really like it either, but I didn’t know that a war was starting when I took the job from Fudge and Malfoy. Even if I had known, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to say no. There’s not much I can do about it now.”

“As you say.” He finished unloading in the kitchen and took the rest of the packages to the potions room as an awkward silence fell.

She sighed and called, “Do you like opera?”

“It is more acceptable than the trash you were playing earlier.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mama sent this one for Christmas. She and Papa went out to San Diego earlier this year to see it, so please keep at least half of your cutting remarks to yourself.”

“Now I will have to think of twice as many. What a bother you are.”

She set the record spinning and went back to the sofa and the Quibbler. The lush music slowly dissolved the tension in the air and Miranda felt her shoulders relax. After about twenty minutes, the soprano on the record launched into a melody that was so hauntingly divine that Miranda put down her magazine in order to listen more closely.

“…řekni mi kde je můj milý…”

She let her eyes fall closed as the music washed over her. Her mother had grown up with opera and her father had been wise enough to indulge the interest until he developed an actual interest himself. As the baby of the family and the only girl, it had been a very special thing when it was Miranda’s turn to put on a party dress and accompany her parents to the theatre. She didn’t understand much about the music, but she knew what she liked and what she didn’t care for. The one playing in the cabin now was definitely going to be one that she liked.

She opened her eyes in surprise when Severus joined her on the sofa, liner notes in hand. He was reading them intently, but he put an arm around her shoulders and she settled against him with a smile. He started idly stroking her hair and they sat there for a long time, listening to the music.

*****

They were sitting together on the sofa in much the same way two days later. It was an hour before the New Year and Severus was reading Dickens aloud under duress. He had protested that it was sentimental dreck and Miranda had argued that if one couldn’t be sentimental at Christmastime, when could one be sentimental? He wasn’t sure if it was her argument or her caresses that had swayed him, but there he was, reading about Scrooge’s encounter with the spirit world.

“ ‘Again the Ghost sped on, above the black heaving sea…’ ”

He flinched and dropped the book. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows and the Dark Mark was clearly visible as it writhed angrily.

“Surprise party?” Miranda asked quietly.

“So it would seem,” he replied grimly.

Without another word, she got up to fetch his frock coat and cloak. He did not meet her eyes as he drew them on.

When he was ready, he said, “You should go to bed.”

“Of course. I’ll be asleep five minutes after you leave.”

He traced her cheek with his finger and walked out into the frigid night. After he had gone, Miranda lit a cigarette and sat back down on the sofa. She stared into the fire while she smoked, letting the flames hypnotize her. Without meaning to, she let her mind wander back to the that night when she had first realized what her father did for a living. She had been supposed to be asleep like all good seven-year-olds, but she had heard her parents talking and had crept to the top of the stairs to listen. After her Papa had left, Miranda had gone boldly down the stairs, demanding to know what a ‘bail jumper’ was and why Papa was after one. Mama had refused to answer at first, but Miranda had badgered her until she had explained. Miranda had asked if Papa would get hurt trying to find the fugitive. Mama had hugged her tightly and had said that Papa was very good at what he did.

Miranda shook off the memory and finished her cigarette. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on the past. She was not a scared little girl and she would not admit to being a scared woman. Severus was good at what he did, too. He would be fine. And, if he weren’t, then there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment anyway. She went to her tiny kitchen and started pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

*****

The anteroom was dark and cold as Severus waited for the Dark Lord’s pleasure. Since his return to bodily form, the Dark Lord no longer seemed to notice temperature and he did not trouble himself to keep his quarters comfortable for those mere mortals among his followers who did. He also did not trouble himself to keep any sort of furniture in the anteroom, and so the Death Eaters milled about awkwardly in the gloomy chamber, trying to act as though they were not apprehensive to enter the Dark Lord’s presence. Severus did this most successfully of the men gathered tonight. He had claimed a spot near the only window in the room. It was small and smeared with filth, but at least it gave him a place to focus his attention. His face was impassive as he stared out the window, motionless except for his breathing. Avery and Crabbe were also in the room, but they could not manage to keep themselves still. They fidgeted with their robes and paced restlessly. A few times they made abortive attempts at conversation, but every man in that room was too deep in his own concerns to care about any of the others.

It was impossible to say how long Severus would have to wait before the Dark Lord called him into the makeshift throne room. It was within the realm of possibility that he would be sent away without an audience tonight. It amused the Dark Lord to keep his flock off balance, and every one of his sheep was a close and familiar friend to anxiety. Once in a while, the wait was short and the meeting almost positive. Severus did not hope for such a meeting tonight. He wondered if he would be asked about the events of the Malfoy party, or if he were going to be taken to task about his association with yet another Muggle-born witch. These thoughts were not helpful to his composure, so he pushed them away lightly as they arose, like a breeze blowing away the clouds. As he did so, Miranda's face appeared in his mind, and he pushed that away too. This image was more stubborn than the others, so he called up Lily's face to replace it. He spent a long time picturing the exact shade of Lily's hair and recalling the lilting pitch of her voice.

When Lily was firmly fixed in Severus’s mind, Lucius emerged from the Dark Lord’s inner chamber. He gave Severus a contemptuous look, took up a spot as far away from the potions master as he could, and started whispering violently with Avery and Crabbe. Severus wanted to gloat over Lucius’s humiliation at losing so spectacularly to an American Muggle-born. He knew that Lucius was not a flexible thinker and wished he had been present to witness the older man’s floundering in the face of unfamiliar spells. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and put a stop to such thinking. He needed to keep his mind blank. He let these amusing thoughts drift away and called up his memories of Lily and the desires of his youth.

*****

Miranda poured the scalding liquid swiftly into the pan on the counter next to the stove. The chocolate she scattered over it started melting instantly, and she gave her work an approving nod. She scrubbed the dishes, trying not to obsessively watch the clock. Severus had only been gone for an hour and she knew that clock watching would not bring him back any faster. By the time she had finished the dishes, the silence in the cabin was starting to agitate her. She put the final dish back in its place and went to the turntable. As the scratchy female voice started singing again, Miranda dug out a bucket and some rags to start cleaning. Nothing really needed to be cleaned, but it was a ritual she had learned as a child. When Papa was away, if the Roses could not sleep at night, they would clean the house from top to bottom. It had been a warm, companionable way to spend those long and sometimes frightening hours of the night. During the day, it was easier to believe that Papa would come home safely. Night was always harder to manage.

She started with the walls now, scrubbing and singing along with the record. She couldn’t stop her imagination from creating nightmare scenarios, but she didn’t have to dwell on them. She let the images flow through her mind like a river and refused to hold onto any of them. She focused her eyes on the grain of the wooden walls and forced her hands to notice how rough the wet rags felt. Severus would be fine. And, if he weren’t, worrying about him wouldn’t help. Best to wait and deal with whatever came when it came.

*****

Harry Potter and his friends would have been shocked to see their haughty professor kneeling like a slave before the Dark Lord. Indeed, Severus would rather have died than kneel to anyone else. In his youth, this posture had been acceptable to him because he had known that soon enough, he would have slaves of his own to give him obeisance; even as he paid his homage to the Dark Lord. Now it was simply part of the role he had to play in order to carry out the plan. It was humiliating, but the feeling of humiliation was familiar to him now, so he buried it deep with all of the other painful emotions that were not conducive to survival.

His mind was firmly in the past as he knelt on the hard wooden floor. He willed his knees not to give out before the Dark Lord got on with whatever it was that he wanted. Standing still for so long had made Severus’s legs numb, and the brief walk between the anteroom and the throne room had not been long enough to restore circulation. The pins-and-needles sensation was painful, but he remained still, his eyes hovering somewhere between the floor and the chair where the Dark Lord sat. Severus knew from experience that he had to keep his eyes available in case the Dark Lord wanted them, but he would not look directly at his master. This was something he did both as a sign of submission, and in the faint hope that if he did not offer the opportunity for Legilimency directly, perhaps the Dark Lord would decide not to invade his mind.

This turned out to be a vain hope, and Severus felt the familiar feeling of revulsion threaten to overtake him as the Dark Lord bored into his mind. He knew the feeling would pass though, and he let it wash over him like a wave. He allowed the memories and fantasies of Lily that he had called up in the anteroom swirl through his mind. He mixed in conversations with Albus and dull scenes of him teaching. He added the memory of him greeting Narcissa at the Malfoy party as a calculated risk. If the Dark Lord was planning to meddle with his relationship with Miranda, part of Severus wanted to know it now. But another part of him hoped that the Dark Lord was still unaware of her, and so he did not think of her directly.

After an unbearable time, the Dark Lord withdrew and Severus let his eyes drop completely to the floor.

“Do you never tire of that mud-blood woman, Severus?” the Dark Lord asked in his eerily high-pitched voice.

Severus did not answer because he knew he was not expected to. He kept his eyes on the floor and his face still.

“Do you know why I have called you here tonight?” the Dark Lord asked coldly.

“I am sorry to say that I do not know why I have been so honored, my Lord,” Severus answered humbly.

The Cruciatus hit him more quickly than he was expecting. He dropped to the floor, body contorted in pain. He let the pain wash over him, his mind focusing on the tip of his left index finger. He kept his mind there, curiously examining how much pain that one spot could hold.

When the curse stopped, Severus gasped for breath.

“Arthur Weasley is alive when he should be dead,” the Dark Lord said cruelly. “I am sure you know why.”

Severus knew that he had to answer, and he knew what his answer would bring.

“I am sorry to say that I do not know, my Lord.” His voice was shaky, but he was ready for the Cruciatus when it came this time. His mind was already on the tip of his finger, marveling again at its capacity to hold pain.

When the curse stopped, the Dark Lord hissed, “Weasley was given an anti-venom. An anti-venom made by you.”

“I am most humbly….” Severus began, but the Cruciatus hit him a third time. It was all he could do to keep his mind on the tip of his finger. The curse lasted until he lost consciousness.

*****

Miranda finished drying her hair and pulled on a nightdress and a dressing gown. The cabin sparkled from top to bottom and the toffee was stored away in a tin. She had plans for it, assuming that Severus wasn’t killed tonight. Her stomach was in knots and she started picking through her bookshelves for something to distract her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a novel, so she pulled down Romanian in Conversation and opened it to the next lesson. She obediently parroted the phrases that Polyanna’s voice modeled from the book, but her mind was more focused on the slow ticking of the clock than it was on her da-s and nu-s. It had been more than four hours since Severus had left, not that she was counting. She started pacing and covered her eyes with her hands for a moment so that she wouldn’t be able to stare at the clock.

“România este o ţarā minunatā,” the book chirped.

She uncovered her eyes and directed them to the book as she paced. “România este o ţarā minunatā,” she repeated.

“Trebuie sā mai exersez la românā.”

“I thought I told you to go to bed,” Severus said in a tight voice as he stumbled into the cabin.

Miranda quickly closed the book and went to him. His face was white as a sheet and he leaned heavily against the door after he closed it.

“You didn’t say please,” she replied, keeping her voice even. She knew the last thing he wanted from her was pity.

He gave her half of a painful smile and she wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He flinched and resisted at first, but then he gave a sigh of resignation and put some of his weight on her. She helped him limp first to the bathroom, and then to to the bed. She brought him a glass of water which he took with a shaking hand and gulped greedily. She brought him another which he managed to drink more slowly, and then she knelt to remove his shoes. He gave a hiss of pain as she pulled them off, but did nothing to stop her. She undid his cloak and the buttons of his frock coat. Although she worked as gently as she could, he could not completely stifle a moan as she removed them. When she was finished, she helped him to lie down and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it and held it out to him.

“I am not going to smoke that vile thing,” he snapped.

“Yes, you are,” she answered firmly. “It will help with the pain so you can sleep.

He glared at her, but after a moment he relented and took it. He inhaled the first draught deeply and, as he exhaled, his face relaxed a bit.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asked.

He took another drag off the cigarette before replying, “No.”

She went to the other side of the bed and lay down next to him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She laid her head carefully on his shoulder. He flinched as he wrapped his arm around her, but then seemed content. The room was dark except for the moonlight filtering in through the curtain and the red point at the end of the cigarette. The smoke curled in the dim light and she lifted a finger, swirling it into patterns. After a long time, Severus said, “He didn’t say anything about you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” she replied.

“I was.”

She frowned. “Do you think he knows about me?”

“I have no idea.”

She was quiet for a while and then said lightly, “I see the Dark Lord is less patient with your cheek than I am.”

He made a sound between a laugh and a groan. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Did he have a reason, or was this just for fun?”

She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after a while he said, “He was angry that my anti-venom was used to save one of his intended victims. But he doesn’t require a reason.”

She closed her eyes and wondered how long Severus would be able to play this part. She knew that he was brave and tenacious, but it seemed like a lot to ask of a man.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said simply.

He made a scoffing noise as he blew out a line of smoke. “I’m surprised you would admit that.”

“Severus, I actually do like you. Most of the time anyway.”

“High praise indeed."

She laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. It’s more praise than you’ve ever given me. And you’re already the most arrogant man on the face of the earth.”

“Fishing for compliments are we?”

She smiled. “From you? Why would I bother?”

He was silent for a long time, smoking down the cigarette. She went back to swirling the smoke into patterns with her finger, assuming that the conversation was over.

He surprised her, however, by saying finally, “I realize that your powers of observation are no match for mine, but surely you are aware that I think you are magnificent.”

A blush spread over her cheeks and that giddy feeling bloomed in her chest. But she kept her voice light as she answered, “Of course. That goes without saying.” She paused and then added, “You do realize with all your mighty powers of observation that women like to hear that sort of thing once in a while, don’t you?”

“What bothersome creatures you are.”

His voice sounded exhausted, so she didn’t continue bantering with him. He finished the cigarette, snuffed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, and wrapped his other arm around her as well. Gradually his breathing slowed and before long he had dropped off to sleep. She lay there awake for a long time, listening to his heartbeat. She really didn’t know what she would call their relationship and she doubted that it was the sort of thing that could last until death did they part. But she felt that she wanted to hold onto whatever it was that they had for as long as she could.

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End Notes:

“Cindy” is an American folk song

“Move Over” by Janis Joplin and “Me and Bobby McGee” by Fred L. Foster and Kris Kristofferson; both from Janis Joplin’s 1971 Pearl album.

Miranda would have been six when this album came out, but what are older brothers for?

“Song to the Moon” from Act I of Rusalka by Antonín Dvořák. Rusalka is based on Undine by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, which is a retelling of the little mermaid fairy tale. This is not the Disney version, or even the Hans Christian Anderson version: the prince dies and Rusalka (the mermaid) has to wander the earth as a spirit forever. It makes a great opera, though. Many fine sopranos have recorded this aria. My favorites are Renee Fleming and Lucia Popp.

Conor and Monica Rose (Miranda’s parents) flew out to see Rusalka at the San Diego Opera in January of 1995. The role of Rusalka became one of Renee Fleming’s signature roles after she sang it at the Seattle Opera in 1990. She would also have sung the performance in 1995 that the Roses were fortunate enough to hear.

The final bit of quoted text is from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

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Moonlight Masterpost+

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Chapter Fifteen+ >>

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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How To Motivate, Encourage, and Inspire Writers - A Masterpost

Hey guys! I am reposting this guide because it got mysteriously deleted. This version includes some new additions and advice for readers.

This is meant to be a guide to help people give valuable, inspiring feedback, as well as how to send in prompts and requests that are more likely to be used. Remember that these are simply suggestions designed to help YOU as a reader get more of what you want. <3

Please let me know if you have anything to add, as this post was a collaborative effort and it can only get better with more input.

What Readers Can Do

1. Like and reblog the stories you enjoy. Fanfic authors don’t get paid. Their only “currency” is notes and feedback. Seeing the notes climb, as silly as it may seem, is a huge motivator to write more. If you are shy about using your main blog for this, you can always create a sideblog and reblog the fic you like there. Authors will notice this and it’s also a great record when you want to go back to fic that you enjoy!

2. Positive feedback! A simple “I love this” or “I can’t wait for more” is great if that’s all you have to say, as well as general writer appreciation, but even better...

3. Comment with specifics. What did you like about the story or writing style? You can talk about the plot itself, characterization, dialogue, the writer’s voice or sense of humor, how the story made you feel, what you’d like to see more of...anything, even the smallest detail, that made you enjoy reading it. Nothing is more motivating for a writer than knowing that their hard work is appreciated.

Some examples of great comments with places to fill in the blanks with specifics. Feel free to use all or part of these as templates when you want to send a comment but you’re not sure where to begin:

[Author Name] - your last fic was so [complimentary adjective]! You really [description of something they did well]. Can’t wait for your next [story/chapter].

[Author Name] - I love [Title] so much! I especially love [part you enjoyed].

I hope we get more of [Title] from [Author Name]. It is [complimentary adjective].

Just read [Title] and [exclamation]! I am [emotion or state of mind].

I really loved [Title] by [Author Name]! My favorite part was probably [specific impactful theme or moment in fic], because it really made me feel [emotional response].

I am [emotion or state of mind] over [Title] by [Author Name]. It was so [descriptive adjective] when [describe moment in story].

Some more examples of really great, detailed, inspiring comments.

4. Start an actual dialogue with an author. As mentioned above, reblogging with comments (even just in the tags) is great. You can also send asks directly to their blogs, DM them, or send additional asks when they respond. Authors may have questions for you, and being able to interact can easily spark something or help them find direction where they were stuck. You can find a list of authors’ sideblogs here if you want to send messages directly to them.

5. Direct requests and prompts to specific writers who you enjoy. Start with why you like them and then explain your idea or request. By doing that, they will start off knowing that they are appreciated, making them way more likely to get excited by your suggestion. Try to phrase things in an open-ended and positive way. “I’d love to see how you would handle [prompt situation/pairing/suggestion]” or “here’s an idea, I think you could do something really cool with it.” The more detailed and supportive your prompt is, the more likely it is that someone will get excited and inspired by it. If your request is for “more” of something that exists, include a reason why you like that story, author, etc. If your request is for something different, talk about something else you liked and why.

Examples of how to send in requests and prompts to specific writers, or include a compliment:

[Author Name(s)] is/are awesome and I would love for them to write more [ship or thing you love].

I would give anything for more [ship or request], especially if it’s similar to [Title(s)], they are my favorite!

I love [Author Name]’s style so much, and I’d be so happy if they wrote [ship/thing you want from them].

I wonder how [Author Name] or [Author Name] would handle [idea]? I would love to read that!

[Title] by [Author Name] is so [positive adjective]! It makes me really want them to try [idea] because I bet they would [motivating phrase like “kill it!”].

[Author Name] - have you ever considered writing [prompt]? [Motivating sentence like “I would die for that!”]

I really love [ship], especially [story title(s)/author name(s)]. I would love to see one where [prompt].

6. Creating artwork, edits, moodboards, or anything inspired by a story you like. This is like, the PINNACLE for most writers. Knowing that someone connected to something you wrote enough to take time out of their day to create something inspired by your story. It’s like drugs. ART IS DRUGS PASS IT ON.

7. If you are a writer, comment on other writers’ stories! You know more than anyone how hard they worked, so please show your fellow authors some love.

Demotivators

1. Anything that sounds aggressive or demanding. You catch more flies with honey.

2. Complaining about the lack of a certain ship, ESPECIALLY if ANYTHING featuring that ship has been posted in the last month of so. Writers are reading these comments, especially if they have posted recently. Can you imagine how demoralizing it is to post a story and then 3 days later, read a comment bemoaning how there’s NOTHING from that ship, that ship is dead, etc? Like this, written about one of the most popular, enduring ships in the fandom with some of the most prolific, talented writers here:

Don’t be that anon. ^

3. Begging and whining, especially for something extremely vague - this sounds way less cute than you think, and reading something like “I will die if I don’t get more [ship]” is more annoying than inspiring. Especially if, as stated above, the thing you are dying over already exists.

4. Giving nothing at all. Most of the writers expect to at least see their work is noticed. If there are no responses at all, they can’t provide you with anything new. And worst case scenario, they lose the motivation to finish it because they think no one is interested.

Notes From Some Writers (and Readers!)

“I’m famously horrendously bad at abandoning fics but about 95% of my will to continue to keep writing is because I know other people are reading and interested that I keep writing, and I’m sure that’s how a lot of other writers operate too. We’re all fuelled by positive reinforcement, so please tell us! Oh, and btw, commenting just to get mad at lack of updates is not encouragement and is actually super irritating and stressful. Just so ya know.” - Edith

“Having an artist come to you and say ‘Hey, I was inspired by your story’ is FANTASTIC. And also encouraging because someone has taken time to create something and say ‘hey, I really liked the thing you made’. It becomes a cycle.” - Kitschy

“Take a look anywhere, on AQ or ao3 or any other platforms. You’ll see (on ao3), probably at most, 10:1 ratio for hits to kudos, alone. There are even less comments. On AQ, probably a 10:1 ratio for likes to reblogs, and the most popular fics only have a little over 100 notes period. Now, consider that it can take a writer months to be happy with a fic they submit. This takes countless hours. Fiction writers, in real life, get money for their work. We get nothing. Nothing, that is, except whatever appreciation you can give us. If we put work and our hearts and souls into something and get nothing, we question our talent, our abilities, our devotion. We refresh the pages where our works are posted constantly, hoping for some feedback, some appreciation, and most readers only read the fiction and give no feedback or appreciation whatsoever.

“All you, as a reader, have to do to make us happy is take 1 to fifteen minutes out of your day to leave a comment, send an ask, send a message to a sideblog. Leave commentary in the tags if you reblog. Any reaction at all. It is all we get for the work we put in.” - Miss Bianca

“My 2 cents I guess is just to get into a habit of acknowledging works that you like. Even for me I'll read stuff and really enjoy it but forget to comment or like it so I'm gonna work on it and I’d like everyone else do it as well. Once people get in the habit of commenting and liking it becomes second nature and with that kind of positive environment it allows writers to grow.” - MissChimKi

“Going back in time, my first work was posted two years ago, and the last comment I got was a huge thank you for writing such a good story and the emotions of that reader, it’s the kind of tiny little things that give me fuel to keep writing.” - Saiphl

“I once wrote 5000 words in a day simply because someone told me that they were reading my smut in church. So, extreme enthusiasm is awesome, but don’t feel like you have to exaggerate and say ‘this is the best thing I ever read.’ A simple ‘I am going to hell...I was in a church service reading Exposed chapter 9’ is more than enough!” - Veronica

“Something that motivates me as a writer is when readers pick out parts of my fic to say why they enjoyed them. Advice for readers would be to never think you’re complimenting too much! I’ve seen some readers cut their asks short because they don’t want to gush too much. As writers we love praise and attention, we’re like Tinkerbell really!” - Vixen

What It Can Feel Like To a Writer to Read the Asks (Inspired by @artificialeevee )

#reader tips #admin post

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