#needed to get these out of my head cause my brain was rotating them around

[carbonatedjem]

Only posting these cause I mentioned them offhandedly in a previous reblog, would rather not have these kinds of pics be a recurring thing on my account if I can help it. First of these was made during the voting period of an official Death Battle poll last year. Second was a commission/birthday gift.

I like the first one, I remember having a lot of fun making it, fun fact i forgot what the fuck the big bang monokuma looked like and genuinely just thought it was a giant monokuma with no other defining traits. can you tell this was before(?) the danganronpa brainrot really burrowed into my head again.

Second one I really like how i did junko and the major, the other half i feel like i kinda botched and i feel bad about it.

i only vaguely understand the debates and i generally do not care i just like to draw

anyway i'm gonna draw werewolf cuddling now

[paintedkinzy-88]

(So sorry i feel like im spamkmg yoyr ask box but i just rotate this au around in my brain like microve)

So i was checking out the posts linked through your coi au master post, and this part:

Did this this cut more deep than Donnie intended? Like does Leo still think about this one line even months past? Like does he think, as hes going on his nightly falling/flying sesions how his brothers couldnt even think of leaving april behind but didn't hesitate to leave him behind

Meanwhile donnie and bros dont see it that that. They see leo as equal, even without wings, they never once thought of it as leaving him behind. Because hes their brother, theyd NEVER leave him behind.

But then that got me thinking... did they accidentally like ACTUALLY leave leo behind that first night donnie made his wings. Cause i can see donnie and the ither two being caught up in the joy of flying together for the first time, maybe going too fast for leo to keep up on the rooftops, cementing the idea in his head that his bros dont need him.

This is long winded lol i just got angst on my mind 😭

Spam me all you want!! I may not be able to promise I’ll get to every ask I ever receive, I just don’t have that time, but I CAN promise that I see, read, and overthink everything anyone sends me (ง’̀-‘́)ง So send away!!

As for your question: Absolutely, yes, that moment struck Leo down to his core — but not like. Personally. He knows Donnie didn’t mean it like that! Realistically, he understands that his brothers/sister care just as much about him as he does about them. They’d never purposefully leave him behind!! At the end of the day, he trusts that, should he ever get seriously knocked down, his family would turn right back around to help him get back up.

But he still has a MAJOR barrier that he sees between them. One that Donnie AND April are now able to literally fly over. And now that he’s outnumbered, that wall feels even higher than before. He’s not alone, not ever, but it certainly feels like it sometimes…

And all of that is exactly why he doesn’t want to say anything. He not only feels a little silly to have this impossible dream in the first place (his hoard is literally birds and butterflies and shit, that’s so weird and pathetic, isn’t it???), but he doesn’t WANT them to worry about him. He doesn’t want them to turn tail and come back just to make sure he’s keeping up with them. He can’t hold them back like that!

It’s better to pretend he’s on the same level, train himself into the ground (even literally if that’s what it takes) to prove he’s on the same level, make them focus on his stellar swimming skills that are (to them) on par to their flying, than for them to ever realize that all he’ll ever do is look up at them from below.

Also, yes, after Dee made his first fully functioning flight pack, they all went on a quick flight around the city. April was the one to suggest they move it to the ocean so Leo could at least keep up with them and cheer them on…

[mischiefmaker615]

Stress Management

Rating: PG13

Summary: Loki always notices when you're stressed, so what is he going to do about it? 

Requested By: @eleniblue

Your finger tips lightly press into your temple with a rotating motion to try to ease the headache that threatened to appear. Your eyes stayed glued to the computer screen and your body in a hunched position as your brain stayed focused on studying. What time was it? did you eat? Did you go to bed at all? Nothing seemed to come to mind in remembrance, the only thing you had your focus on, was work.

Honestly you did this to yourself, but you were a caver. Many asked a lot of you, how could you possibly let them down and say no? well now you practically shot yourself in the foot with the amount of work you thought you could handle.

A pair of smooth, long hands rested against your shoulders, causing you to jerk as you practically gasped at the sudden interruption. Your thoughts and awareness seemed to snap to attention as your focus switched at the intrusion. Before you could say anything in panic, a hand gently clamped over your mouth to silence you, along with a low shushing against your ear.

‘’relax darling, it’s only me’’

Your body instantly relaxed at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice and he immediately released your mouth, hands returning to your shoulders from behind you.

‘’you nearly scared me to death Loki’’ you scolded with a sigh, releasing your pent-up frustration as your eyes traveled back to your computer screen.

‘’what are you working on that brings yourself to neglect your personal needs darling?’’ he asked, his eyes moving to the screen before him in mild interest but traveled back down to you when the knowledge was foreign to him.

‘’just work.. lots of it..’’ you sighed and stretched, earning a satisfying pop from most of your joints before you felt his fingers and palms begin to knead the muscles between your shoulders and neck. Your eyes fluttered closed as you bit your lip at the pleasure.

‘’it is necessary than the amount required of you?’’ he asked, almost already knowing the answer as you hesitated.

‘’.. they asked me, and I accepted.’’

You could almost feel Loki shaking his head as he walked around you to pull up a chair, turning yours to the side so you were facing him, earning a small whine that he was taking you away from your work.

‘’what is that?’’

The sudden question as he gazed at your face made you raise a brow at exactly what he was talking about. ‘’what do you mean?’’

‘’your stress darling, I could see it all over your beautiful face’’ he sighed, almost a ‘poor thing’ attitude as he cupped your cheeks.

‘’I’m fine, just a few knots here and there in my shoulders but my face is-‘’

‘’you may not see it darling, but I do. When you are fully invested in something and in pure concentration, the world is blocked out and you scrunch your features. You may not know it, but you do.’’ He explained gently as his thumbs began stroking your cheeks.

You blinked at him as he spoke, feeling fine than what he was telling you but.. more than half the time, he was right. No one paid better attention to you than Loki, he saw every detail of what you do.. almost to much when sometimes you think he was staring right into your very soul. From biting your nails when you were nervous, to shaking when you were excited and glancing to the left whenever you tried to lie. He saw it all.

‘’I’ll be fine, I just need to finish and then I can relax..’’

‘’when will you finish?’’

The hesitation confirmed you didn’t even know, thus having a lot to try to accomplish. Loki was no buying it. slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there before pulling away to move to a different spot above your brow.

The action made your thighs press together and a blush come to your cheeks as you closed your eyes, resting your hands on his knees as he used his hands at your cheeks to lean you more forward. ‘’L-Loki.. I need to get back to work..’’

‘’you need a healthy break, and what better break to fix this issue than with me helping you to relax..’’ it wasn’t a question as he dragged his lips to your temple, humming almost at the taste of you and the feeling of your smooth skin against his lips as he repeated the same action on the other side.

Your mind seemed to melt, your thoughts dissipating as he kissed at your cheeks, his hands running down to begin massaging your shoulders. all thoughts of work were gone, any thought really as your mind focusing on the feeling of pleasure he was giving you.

‘’relax darling, all will be well’’ he assured as his thumbs worked at a few knots at your neck while his lips finally pressed against your own, brushing them first in a small tease before deepening it with a slight lean forward.

Your hands traveled to rest against his shoulders, feeling how his lips caressed your own before his tongue ran slowly across your bottom lip. You immediately gave him access and he happily obliged as he massaged your tongue with his own, earning a moan from you. You felt him smile against your lips, giving you finally a moment to catch your breath before he kissed your forehead one more time before pulling back to gaze upon you.

‘’there you are darling, stress relieved and relaxed.’’ He praised and cupped your face again. ‘’please darling, don’t bite off more than you can chew.’’

You couldn’t help but get cheeky as you smiled ‘’well what if I wish for another session of stress management?’’

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle as he suddenly pulled you out of your chair with his hands at your thighs and switched you over onto his lap so you were swaddling him.

‘’then I suppose darling I’ve got some more work for you to do..’’

[pinkanonwrites]

I’ll Take Care Of You

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

My Vash/Reader sickfic that I’ve been promising! I’ve been dinking around trying to get it to a place I like and I like it now, so time to post! Read on AO3 here!

Vash/Reader, 3,700+ words, GN!Reader, sickfic, sick reader, comfort, worried vash, non-sexual nudity, cuddling, sharing warmth, emeto/vomit warning

It's strange, when you're feeling unwell, how easy it is for the tiniest things to set you off.

There are plenty of day to day irritants in life, especially living on a desolate sand ball like No Man's Land. For the most part you'd learned to take many of them in stride, laughing when you could, letting the emotions roll over you like a wave when you couldn't until they receded softly back into the recesses of your mind and you could once again roll over and face the day ahead. It helped to have good company, and despite the crowded dune-crawler and the constant driving it entailed, you usually found somewhere amidst the chaos to enjoy yourself.

Not today.

You already hadn't felt well leaving the previous town, head and stomach swimming too much to risk eating more than some dry crackers and lukewarm canteen water, and even that made your innards pitch and roil dangerously. The car was constantly shifting, massive tires ping-ponging the entire chassis back and forth whenever you climbed over a particularly rocky bit of terrain and doing absolutely nothing to soothe the vertigo pooling in the bottom of your brain. It was too hot, too cramped, and worst of all?

Too. Damn. Loud.

Wedged between Wolfwood and Vash in the backseat, you had no escape from the blond's excessive snoring on your left and Nicholas leaning up over the center console to pester Meryl about her driving. Of course she was snapping back with equal levels of vitriol, voices rising slowly with each back and forth. In the passenger seat Milly was giggling along to their vicious banter, occasionally peppering in comments or fiddling with the radio dial, weather reports and religious sermons screeching through the fuzz.

The static of the radio crackled, Meryl's window-mounted fan clicked sharply with each rotation, Vash's head made a soft thunk as it connected with the glass of his window and Wolfwood kept hitting you with his elbow as he reached over the console and Milly was laughing and Meryl was yelling and Wolfwood was yelling back and-

"Hic…"

Your wet, little gasp silenced the car's occupants like a gunshot, your own hands too slow to stifle it from coming out. You could feel everyone's attention turn to you, even Vash beginning to stir to your left, and you couldn't tell if the heat flushing to your head was humiliation, sickness, heatstroke, or some miserable combination of the three. But you do know that said heat and said gazes made you curl up in the middle seat, covering your face with your long sleeves as you let out another miserable little sob.

"Are you alright back there?"

"Oh no, please don't cry! Do you feel carsick?"

"H-Hey, it's gonna be alright. Is this cause I kept hittin' ya with my elbow? Cause I said I was sorry."

You sobbed again, tears and snot and sweat running down your face and wetting your shirt sleeves as you pulled your knees up, curling as small as you could get. "'M sorry, 'm sorry, I'm fine."

"You're not fine! Did something happen?" Meryl couldn't look away from the road, but Milly had all but fully turned around in her seat to check on you.

"Do you need some water? I still have some if you're all out."

"C'mon, birdie, don't go all silent on us."

You wanted to shrivel up and dissolve into sand in the middle seat, curling in upon your own body as if it may actually make you disappear. This didn't help, it wasn't helping, it was just more noise and more worry and more hot tears running down your cheeks and you just wanted it all to stop.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Pulling your head up from your knees, you were met by Vash's hand gently brushing your forehead. His palm rested there, warm and steady, as he looked you over with a soft concern.

"You feel pretty warm. Is everything alright?" As he pulled away he brought his thumb down to swipe a stray tear from your cheek. You wanted to bawl, to clamber into his arms and let him cover you with his coat, shielding you from the heat and the noise and the (brightbrightwaytoobright) sun. But when you opened your mouth to speak, tongue dry and unsteady, you instead croaked out four, painfully small words.

"I'm gonna throw up."

"...Eh? EH?!? H-HANG ON!" You were jostled back by the force of Vash diving forward, clapping both hands over your mouth with a low groan. Your stomach pitched wildly, thick saliva pooling in the back of your throat as Vash jammed himself over the center console. "PULL OVER!"

"Wh-What? Why?" Meryl yelped when Vash exploded into her line of sight.

"JUST DO IT! PLEASE?!?"

She hardly needed to 'pull over' in the stretches of open desert, but the dune-crawler rumbled and bumped to a jerky halt that only served to make your stomach sickness worse. Not even waiting for Vash to unbuckle his seatbelt, you clambered over his lap and opened the door, collapsing to the ground just in time to empty the meager contents of your stomach into the hot sand. There was hardly anything to hack up, everything you'd eaten over the course of the day splattering out with a few shivering gags. But your body continued to retch out of your control, fresh tears dripping off your cheeks and into the puddle as you helplessly dry heaved on your hands and knees.

"Hey, hey, you're alright. Deep breaths, okay? I've got you." There was a cool hand brushing your hair back from your sticky forehead, and another rubbing the small space between your shoulder blades.

Finally, when your stomach had finished cramping and the last thick glob of saliva had drooled from your open mouth onto the sand, your body pitched forward dangerously, elbows collapsing from exhaustion. You would have face-planted straight into your own mess if Vash wasn't there to catch you, hauling you backwards so you could slump weakly against his chest as he sat with you in the sand. You could hear shuffling around you, footsteps, but your eyes were still blurry with moisture as you squinted weakly in the afternoon sun.

"Thanks, Milly. Here, drink this." You felt the rim of a canteen press to your lips, and let Vash tip your head back to take a swig of water.

"Don't drink too fast now, or you might get sick again!" One of Milly's large hands gently caressed the top of your head. "We've got plenty of time to get to the next town, so take as long as you need!"

"I'm sorry." You whimpered again, feeling twice as pathetic in the face of everyone's kindness. You could hear Meryl click her tongue somewhere off to your right.

"You don't have to apologize! Everybody gets sick sometimes, it's just a thing that happens."

"Yer lucky we're planning on a hotel tonight, way better than sleeping in the sand-OW! HEY!"

"Dingy!?"

"Quit being a jerk! They already don't feel good and you're not helping!"

"How am I not helping?" Wolfwood hissed. "I'm reminding them they don't have to sleep in the back of a dingy car all night!"

"Ooh, boy. There they go again." Vash sighed out a chuckle, hand never pausing as he carefully rubbed your upper arm. "Whenever you feel up for it, we can get going. Okay?"

As Meryl and Wolfwood continued to bicker quietly in the background, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's chest. His prosthetic arm came around your waist to keep you from slipping too far down, and you lolled your head back against his collarbone as your eyelids fluttered. "I'm sorry…" You slurred again, even though by this point you knew the apology was not necessary. "Jus' don't feel good…"

"You get a little silly when you're sick, don't you?" There was a teasing tone to Vash's voice, one that made you feel all warm and cozy in your chest. "You're being very polite right now."

"'M tired, Vash." You whined, rolling to your side a bit to nuzzle your cheek against his chest.

"I know." He said, so soft and so fond. "When we get back in the car, you can lay on me, alright? Then you can sleep the whole ride there. I promise."

"Mmh, yes please…"

You couldn't remember exactly how long you spent on the ground, just the vague feelings of Vash helping you to your feet, buckling your seatbelt for you after you clambered weakly back to your spot. As soon as he was seated he twisted his body towards you, leaning back against the car door so you could sprawl yourself out across his chest. And sprawl you did, fingers clutching absently at his coat as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck with a content little sigh. The dune-crawler rocked slightly as your other friends climbed into their respective seats, but with your cheek pressed to Vash's chest it didn't make you feel so dangerously nauseous anymore.

"Try getting some rest. We'll wake you up in the next town." His metal hand found the small of your hip and rested there, keeping you curled safely against his chest as the engine rumbled back to life. Eyelids dipping heavily, you mumbled out a few clumsy words of appreciation before blackness overtook your vision.

"Thank you… Vash…"

You didn't jostle blearily awake again until Meryl had already paid for your respective hotel rooms, letting you rest slumped against Vash in the backseat while she chatted with the man at the desk. Given the size of the town itself, it made sense that there would only be a few rooms available. Fortunately Meryl was able to book two doubles and a single, leaving you with your own space to recuperate while the rest of the group split the two double rooms between themselves.

"We'll be right across the street, okay?" Vash gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder as he pointed out the window of your hotel room to the nearby diner. "Try and get a little more rest, and I'll bring you back something for dinner!"

“Mhm… I will.” You mumbled. You'd let your travel bag thunk loudly to the floor next to your bed as you collapsed into the mattress. Some of the vertigo had subsided after your extended nap, but you hardly wanted to push your luck by trying to go out to dinner with everyone else.

"There's even a bath if you want to take one, might help you feel better." Vash gave a final, soothing rub to the space between your shoulder blades before you could hear him stepping away, boots thudding softly on the wood floor. "I'll be back before you know it. Sleep well."

"Have fuuuun." You sighed out, door clicking shut behind him and leaving you in silence. As tired as you were, there was a tacky sweatiness to your skin, sickness and desert heat making you feel distinctly gross to the touch. Maybe a bath would be a good idea after all…

Reluctantly, you slumped into a seated position before getting back to your feet. The bathroom was larger than you'd expected for the size of the inn, and your vision swam slightly as you reached over to fiddle with the knobs and start the sudden rush of water. It was even warm; how much did this place cost? Distantly you felt a little prickle of guilt, Meryl was probably spending extra just to make sure you could rest in a vague semblance of comfort. You'd have to be sure to thank her profusely, when you could actually think straight. You clumsily shed your clothes, letting them fall to the tiled floor as you slipped into the warm water and toed the knob back off again with your foot.

It felt good at first, dunking your head under the water and coming up again with a soft huff as rivulets ran from your hair. But you were far too tired to even wash yourself properly, and though the water barely bordered on warm, something about the heat made your dizziness spike all over again. You couldn't even bring yourself to stand back up to get out, slumping against the side of the tub and resting your cheek on the cool ceramic edge. All you needed was to close your eyes for a moment, and once the spiraling in your head stopped you'd be fine to climb back out again. You'd just get a little more rest in the meantime…

"Heyyy, are you feeling any better? I brought you some soup! We just need to bring the bowl back tomorrow morning."

Vash knocked twice on your door, but received no response. Man, you must be really exhausted. Your bedroom light was visible from the street, so when he saw it on he'd assumed you were still awake. He tried the handle, finding your door to still be unlocked.

"I'm coming in, okay?" He twisted the handle, hesitating just a moment before adding. "...Don't be naked!"

He shouldered the door open, one hand holding your lidded bowl of soup and the other covering his eyes. Kicking the door shut behind him, Vash hesitated a moment before peeking through his spread fingers. Your room was empty, bed still made, bag exactly where you'd dropped it just before he left. Vash's stomach sank, quickly setting the bowl on the table as he called out your name. You wouldn't have gone somewhere, would you? Did someone see him bringing you into the hotel, maybe peg you as a sidekick of The Humanoid Typhoon? There weren't any signs of a struggle, though. Maybe you were sicker than he thought, and he'd left you all alone when you were at your most vulnerable. His gaze flickered around the room, grasping for any sign of where you may have gone or what might have happened.

Finally, it landed on the bathroom door. It wasn't open when he left, and a slim trail of light was glinting from the gap between it and the doorframe. There was silence beyond it, a blistering, agonizing silence. He took two hesitant steps forwards, knocking shakily on the doorframe, before finally nudging it open and letting himself inside.

His heart twisted and stammered in his chest when his gaze finally landed on you, rabbiting up into a thundering panic when you didn't even acknowledge his entrance. You were slumped in the bathtub, one arm hanging over the edge and your cheek lolled against the rim of the basin, eyelids shut but fluttering weakly. There was a sickly pallor to your skin, and even from a distance Vash could see the goosebumps that had broken out across every stretch of it currently visible to him. You were even shivering, hard.

"H-Hey!" He didn't have time to be flustered at your state of complete undress, too busy stumbling forward to lift your limp and unmoving body from the bath. The water was cool, almost cold as he dunked his arms in, soaking the sleeves of his shirt and jacket as he hooked you under the armpits and pulled you into his arms. Letting himself sink to his knees so you could rest in his lap, he let go of you with one arm for just a moment, just long enough to grasp blindly at a towel on the counter to bundle you in. Your head thunked limply against his chest as soon as he had you wrapped in the towel and back in his arms. "Hey, can you hear me? I've got you now, it's gonna be okay."

It didn't feel like it was going to be okay, not to Vash at least. His stomach was swimming with guilt as he carried you back out to your bed, bundling you in the sheets and using the towel to dry the tips of your hair that were still damp. You were still shaking, thin blankets doing far too little to bring the warmth back to your body. Of course there wouldn't be any more stored in the hotel room either; it wasn't like anyone needed them most of the time anyway. He could dip back down the hallway and grab the blankets from his own bed, but that meant leaving you alone again, even for just another few moments. The thought made Vash feel vaguely sick himself.

Only one thing he could do then.

Vash shucked off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, hesitating for a moment before doing the same with his turtleneck. Waterlogged sleeves clung to his arms as he wrestled the damp thing off, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor before moving back to your bedside. He tugged back the top blanket, leaving you swaddled in the sheet as he clambered in next to you and pulled the blanket back up to his chin. You let out a soft sigh through your nose as you curled instinctively into his warmth, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. Oh so hesitantly, like you were made of fine china, Vash draped an arm around your bundled form and splayed his hand out wide along the small of your back.

"I'm sorry…" He murmured, clutching your shuddering body like you would dissolve away between his fingertips if he relaxed, even for a moment. "I'm so sorry. I should have stayed. I won't leave again. I'm sorry."

"Mmmrh… Vash?"

He jolted, cupping your face with a hesitant call of your name as you blinked miserably awake. Head thumping and body aching, you squinted until Vash's face phased into clarity, all quivering lip and furrowed brow and stinging, glassy eyes. Weakly, you wrestled a hand free from the sheet, wiping at the corner of his eye with your thumb. He choked on a sob, melting into your palm with a relieved gasp.

"You're okay."

"Mmh… Head hurts a lot. What time is it?" You grumbled. The last thing you remembered was stooping down to run yourself a bath, then the rest of it faded into a hazy blur. Vash sniffled, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"Evening. Probably around 8? You passed out in the bath… It was really cold."

Fragmented memories began to click back into place, and you gripped the sheets close to your body with your free hand as you suddenly processed your own nudity. A spike of humiliation shot through you, as dulled as it was by your swimming senses.

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't scare you too bad, did I?"

Vash didn't respond, but the look on his face gave you all the answer you needed.

"Oh, honey." The sheets were tucked close up enough to your chest that you didn't hesitate to free your other hand to cup his face as well. His gaze trailed off to the corner of his eye, unable to keep contact with yours. "I'm so sorry, you must have been so worried."

"I-It's alright! It's not a big deal, really. I'm just glad you're okay."

You didn't relent, not yet, instead leaning in and pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead. "It is a big deal. I scared you, didn't I?"

"Not on purpose or anything."

"That doesn't mean it didn't feel real. Oh, Vash." His breath hitched when you murmured his name, another fresh tear or two slipping down his cheeks. "I'm okay. You found me and I'm gonna be alright, alright? I'm right here."

A tiny, pained whimper escaped him as he bundled you into his arms, hiding his teary face in the crook of your neck. Both flesh and metal hands fisted the fabric draped across your back as he pressed a kiss to the soft space in between your neck and your shoulder. "I shouldn't have left. I should have made sure you were okay. I shouldn't have told you to take a bath."

"Hey, hey, hold on. You didn't make me do anything, I chose to take a bath. None of this is your fault, Vash. Things happen sometimes." Your cradled the back of his head in one hand, and rubbed soothing circles across his broad back with the other. "You came to check on me, and you found me, and you got me warm. You're so good, Vash. My wonderful boy."

He sniffled against your neck again, but you could feel the faintest hint of a smile pressed against your skin. "...I brought you some soup. Are you hungry?"

You hummed, trailing your fingertips up and down the jut of his shoulder blade. "In a little bit. Can you warm me up a bit more first? You're like a living space heater."

Finally, you could feel some of the nervous tension begin to eke out of Vash's muscles as he began to melt into your arms. He tugged you forward, just enough that your fronts were pressed together from the chest all the way down to where your legs intertwined, thin fabric sheet separating your bare chests.

"Good? Not too warm?" His heartbeat was thundering loud enough for you to feel, his hands so gentle where they rested upon your exhausted body. "Let me know if you get too warm, okay?"

"I will. But this is perfect." You nuzzled your forehead against his shoulder, making him stifle a soft chuckle. "I could fall asleep again."

"Not yet! You've got to at least eat something first, okay? After you eat, then you can sleep."

"Always looking after me.~" You cooed. "I will, okay? In just a few minutes."

Your answer seemed to placate him for now as he pressed another kiss to your neck, light and chaste. He nosed along your jawbone, breath light and ticklish as he murmured. "Can I stay here tonight? I know I have my own room, and you need to rest, and I don't want to be a bother, but-"

"Yes." You replied, before he could talk himself out of it. "Yes, please stay with me. I want you to."

There was a palpable relief in the sigh he let out at your response. "Good. Cause I probably just would have camped out in the hallway if you said no. Might get in trouble with the owners for that."

"Well we can't have that happen, now can we?"

"No we cannot.~"

You chuckled, body feeling light for the first time that day as you let Vash cradle you in his steady arms.

[lexosaurus]

stained teeth leave the aftertaste of rot (part 3)

Part three of my @ecto-implosion fic for @antleredweirdo's art [right here]! (seriously check it out it's amazing)

Characters: Danny Fenton Tags/warnings: minor character death, gore, ghost hunger Summary: Danny was just sick. It was probably some sort of ghost flu that was making his body heavy, his stomach hollow, and his eyes burn with fatigue. There was no way he was—no, he wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't. In the darkest corner of the room, something shifted.

[read on ao3]

[part 1] [part 2]

****

The days blurred together. Danny didn’t know if it was Monday or Wednesday or some other day that week. 

The only way he could confirm that time was passing at all was how each morning when he woke up, he saw the shadow standing slightly closer to him than it had the day before.

The first morning, he’d tried to order it back into its corner. But it just smirked at him and refused to move.

So Danny had given up. And now he was wandering around Amity Park because…he couldn’t remember. Was he trying to go to Tucker’s house? Or was he coming home from Tucker’s house? He thought Tucker might have been the reason he was outside at this hour and still in human form, but he couldn’t quite remember…

There was no reason to be in his ghost form, anyway. There was nothing to patrol. Ever since Johnny 13, Danny hadn't seen his normal rotation of ghosts. Skulker seemed nowhere to be found, and Ember hadn't stopped by either, which was strange because she'd said she was going to debrief with him after the new Dead Teacher single dropped and now, some unknown days later, he hadn't seen her even once. 

Maybe she'd forgotten?

Usually at this point, Youngblood was bored and looking for people to play a new game with, and the Box Ghost was out seeking new boxes to attempt to stake a very flimsy claim with. But strangely, neither of those ghosts had crossed over to the Human World either.

Since Danny was still sick with this ghost flu, he didn't particularly mind the peace and quiet. But, it did set him on edge all the same.

Why had no one appeared? 

Had something happened in the Ghost Zone?

Or, maybe Johnny 13 had told them Danny was tired and needed a break?

...Yeah, no. Danny amended that thought as soon as it popped into his head. He'd complained about being tired many times before and the ghosts had never particularly cared. Maybe their years of being dead had made them all forget what it was like to have human needs like sleep. Regardless, his human necessities had proven to have little effect on their abilities to cause chaos in Amity Park.

So, if not that, then what? Why? Why were they staying away?

And why did he care? 

He stopped, shaking his head. Was he seriously getting offended right now about this? Why did it matter if they were staying away from him? 

Do they know? a corner of his brain asked.

There was nothing to know, he argued back.

The shadow laughed silently next to him.

"Stop following me around," Danny shot at it.

That only seemed to make it laugh more.

His core groaned, and he paused on the sidewalk, lightheadedness swarming his head like a beehive. He leaned against the building beside him and rubbed his forehead with clammy fingers that seemed too pointed to be human any longer. His core had begun doing this a few days ago. It had been whining at him to transform for a while now, but for the past few days, it was pulsing with a desperation he found almost impossible to resist.

And he was resisting.

He told himself that he wasn't transforming into Phantom because there was no need to. With all the ghosts seemingly avoiding Amity Park, there was no reason for him to become Phantom. It was too dangerous, anyway, with the Guys in White constantly patrolling, as well as his parents, Valerie, and all the little contractor ghost-hunting companies that Vlad Masters (that douche) had begun to employ.

Lies... the shadow seemed to say, though it hadn't said anything at all. It didn't have a mouth to speak with. It didn't have a face to gloat. It didn't have eyes to glint at him, nor lips to grin mischievously at him with. But Danny could feel that all the same. 

"I'm not lying," Danny grumbled, his voice hardly loud enough to reach the air a few inches away.

The shadow, strolling across the middle of the road toward him, still with no ears to hear with, didn't seem to have a problem understanding him. You're lying.

"I'm not."

The shadow simply grinned a wicked smile at him in return, and Danny could imagine the ghostly fangs poking out from the corners of its lips.

It was all in his head, all in his head.

His core shuddered, and Danny closed his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to repress the frost that crept up his throat. But he wasn't strong enough, he couldn't hold his breath forever in his human form, and eventually when he opened his mouth to let out the air he'd been holding hostage in his diaphragm, a blue wisp containing microscopic ice crystals and snow escaped his lips.

His ghost sense.

The pull was overwhelming. And suddenly, it didn't seem to matter if his human half required air or not because he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe right now. There was simply no oxygen in the air.

Aura took over his eyes and, like an addict searching for his next hit, his gaze whipped around the air, searching desperately for the ghost. 

It was here. He didn't see it, he didn't see it. But it was here. It had to be. 

His ghost sense never lied.

He felt the overwhelming tug of his core again, and he realized with a mouth-watering hunger that it was directing him. 

Boundless relief rushed through him. He was saved! If he just listened to his core, he could find the ghost after all!

Everything was going to be okay.

But then the human part of him stepped back in, begging him to listen to reason, to turn around and go home because if he listened to his core, if he gave in to the goading of the shadow and the hole in his body then he would lose every last drop of his humanity that his ecto-infused cells still clung to.

It was disgusting how easily his transformation snuffed out the screaming of his human consciousness.

Finally silent, his brain exhaled. Now, there was no confusion. No moral drama to tend to. All he had to do was follow his core. 

Yes.

Finally.

Phantom floated down the street as if in a daze. He rounded the corner, and continued on his merry way, humming happily. His core whined, and he shushed his body, promising to fix it all soon.

He didn't have enough sense left in his brain to pay attention to where they were going. He didn't know whether there were humans around him, or if any of them were trying to get his attention for a selfie or a Tiktok as they often did. He found that, for the first time, he didn't care about anything as insignificant as the wants of other humans. Why should he? He was a ghost, after all. And besides, he was busy.

Hunting.

The prey was near. He could sense it. The switch in his core, from electric whining to a hushed hum. He shifted out of visibility. For most ghosts, that wouldn't matter; they could sense when another specter was nearby. But for a ghost like this...

Phantom peered around a building and saw it: his target.

"Will you be my friend?" the ghost asked a cat rubbing itself against a wooden post.

The cat made no motion that it'd heard or even cared about the green ghost in its pink-striped pajamas. It stepped forward, letting the rough wood on the pole stroke across its body, and then turned around to get the other side of its long body.

"Why does nobody want to be my friend?" the ghost wailed, bringing thick fingers up to hide its face. It bowed, bobbing until its blond hair brushed over its fingers as if it were trying to bury its face in shame.

Well, it wouldn't need to feel shame for much longer.

Phantom crept forward, slowly, raising invisible claws but not directing power yet to the tips of his fingers. He needed to get closer if he wanted to make this clean.

Perhaps he was more eager than he'd realized at the prospect of bringing down this great beast because he'd hardly moved more than a foot around the corner of the building when the ghost sensed him.

A startled grunt escaped its lips as its head shot up from its hands. "Who's there?" it asked.

The world tunneled, and darkness began to shroud the edges of Phantom's vision. He grinned, the tips of his teeth pricking the delicate skin of his lips, but he could hardly feel it.

"Do you want to be my friend? I'm looking for new friends."

Phantom prowled forward, inching slowly. The muscles in his claws flexed as anticipation shot up his spine.

The weak smile slipped off the ghost's face, and its hands raised in submission. It said weakly, "Please come out."

Phantom's core cackled. This ghost was scared. It could sense his intentions. Good. Be scared. 

"I just want to make friends."

Phantom was sure the smile on his lips was wicked. And suddenly, some ghostly part of him urged him to drop his invisibility. To let the ghost see how easily it'd been overpowered by him. 

So Danny unshrouded his body from the linen robes of invisibility and watched in glee as the ghost's face relaxed in recognition.

"Oh, Phantom? It's just you. You know, for a second I thought—"

Phantom glided closer to the prey, the points on his claws turning knifelike as his teeth sharpened dangerously.

The ghost's mouth fell open in horror. 

"Wait, please. Phantom—I—please..." it babbled, trying to scramble back.

One last flicker of humanity, the part that recognized this ghost as one with a name, with personality, as Klemper, yelled at him to stop, please, stop! But Phantom just laughed, his chuckle twisted and cruel, biting the air with the acrid taste of starvation. Because Phantom was starving, and this was the solution.

Phantom's acid eyes slowly meandered back to the trembling, lowly ghost hugging its torso with baggy, pink arms. Its red eyes stared pleadingly, welling with tears as its broken voice let out one last whisper.

"I thought we were friends."

The last of Phantom's patience drained away in an instant, and he surged forward, closing the distance to the prey before it could react. His claws made contact with something soft, and he pushed power through his palms, throwing the prey into the alley behind it. It hit the wall hard, cracking the brick as shockwaves pounded the air. 

"Wait!"

But Phantom was done waiting.

His aura glowed like a blizzard as he followed the prey into the alley. The air was growing darker, darker, and there was his prey, glowing with fresh ectoplasm.

He shot forth, sinking his claws into the prey. His fingers tore through the pajamas easily, knifing the ectoplasmic body underneath and slicing the membrane skin like it was putty.

The moment the scent of fresh, liquid ectoplasm hit Phantom's nose, his eyes stopped seeing, his fingers stopped feeling, everything his brain knew and loved was green.

The first drop of the nectar of the gods hit his tongue, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. His body was a black hole, devouring ectoplasm with drunken craze as this sweet, citrus liquid candy flowed into him.

This was beautiful. This was everything.

He hadn't known why he'd been so afraid before. Why he hadn't let himself indulge in this incredible delicacy. Why he'd been so foolish as to let himself starve.

Now, he was saved.

The cries of his core lulled as he filled his stomach with ectoplasm. He could feel his energy rising again, and the black hole in his chest began shrinking, shrinking, until it was nearly gone. But not quite.

His body was alight with the thrill of the hunt, the enchantment of this feast. He scooped more ectoplasm into his sticky fingers and poured it down his throat. At last, his core let out a satisfied purr and settled down for a nap, and with a flash of light, the urge to dine was over.

Awareness came to his senses again. The gravel digging into his knees, the tingling of his feet as it ached with sleep, the chill of the evening air prickling his wet skin.

His wet skin...

He felt the blood drain from his face first. Then, nausea rolled through him like a tsunami, crushing his heart and lungs and brain with a sea of putrid green battery acid.

The urge to run had never felt so strong, and yet he couldn't move. His legs were plastered to the ground under an inch of ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that he alone had put there.

The pink-striped pajamas were nowhere to be seen, likely having dissolved to join the rest of the spilled ectoplasm the moment Danny tore Klemper's core from his chest. 

Klemper. Oh Ancients, Klemper.

Danny was shaking—violently—eyes searching for a ghost that no longer existed as the world began to spin. His eyes darted around the carnage, frenzied as he searched for Klemper's toothy smile. But Klemper wasn't here. 

Klemper's weak words, his last, defeated muttering of "I thought we were friends" bounced off the cavernous walls of Danny's mind. And then he felt sick all over again. He bent over, gagging, trying to expel all the poison that he'd just consumed. Klemper, it was Klemper. But nothing came up. His body refused to let him eject the disease within.

Ectoplasm dripped down his chin, and he furiously tried to wipe it away. But his hands were too sticky with the substance, and all he succeeded in doing was smearing the remains around his cheeks.

He trembled, and the cold bit him. His hands were still shaped more like claws than human fingers, and the taste of lime and acid and something sweet was still on the back of his tongue. His breathing picked up, ragged and icy, as an invisible hand reached into his chest and squeezed his lungs.

Delusion was still fighting his brain, and for a moment he could almost convince himself that Klemper had gotten away. Danny had injured him, but he was okay. Danny hadn't...he wouldn't...

No.

No!

Danny shut his eyes and rocked back and forth, the tips of his claws digging into his cheeks. Danny was the good guy. He was the hero. He wouldn't kill another creature, even if that being was already dead. He wouldn't. 

He wasn't a murderer. 

Where was Klemper?

His eyes flung open, desperate to try searching one last time for the ghost, and then he froze.

Standing at the entrance of the alley was the nameless, faceless shadow. It stood between the glow from the street lamps and the ectoplasm puddled on the ground watching him without eyes, without expression. It made no attempts to come closer, nor back away. Its posture wasn't tense, nor relaxed. And where Danny expected a goading grin, it had none.

"Say something," Danny growled at the shadow. "Fucking damnit, say something!"

But it just stood there doing nothing.

It didn't have a face. It didn't have a mouth to grin at him with. It didn't have any body language to even hint at an emotion.

And it never did.

It was just standing there. That's all it'd ever done.

A lampost in the street flickered, and the shadow wavered like a candle flame brushing the wind. And then, to Danny's horror, he realized that it wasn't a humanoid shadow at all, but the shadow of a trash bag lying next to the dumpster.

His stomach pitted once again, and his eyes glazed over. 

He thought back to this week. At the shadow in his bedroom—the curtains wavering in the open window—or the shadow following him to his classes—had there been a shadow at all? 

All this time. All this damn time. There wasn't anything there. There'd never been anything there.

He bent over now, his breath hoarse. His lungs burned with ice and acid, and every time he opened his eyes, all he could see was the wreckage that he'd done.

Him. Danny Phantom. A murderer. 

No. 

It was too much. Too much. His ribs were collapsing on his body, and everything hurt.

He forced himself to stand. To get up. He looked away so he didn't have to see the ectoplasm clinging to his jeans like a child glued to their mother's legs. 

"I—I'm—" Danny tried. I'm sorry. But he couldn't.

He couldn't do it.

So instead, like a coward, he ran. The ectoplasm squelched under his shoes, crying tears of abandonment, and it sickened him how he could remember how good it'd tasted, how he could still taste the remnants on his lips.

The hurricane winds slammed his brain, and he snapped, triggering his transformation and shooting into the air. Invisibility was quick to cover him again, hiding his crimes from the public eye and himself. 

He didn't know how long it took him to fly home. Time no longer mattered to him. But, crossing through his windowpane, he didn't stop. He was dirty, covered in ectoplasm that had begun to dry on the flight home, and he couldn't let it stain his body. He needed to get it off, to clean his skin, to cover and lie and hide every particle of the monster he'd become from the world.

The water pelted his back like ice pellets. He didn't have time to wait for the shower to warm up. He was too dirty for that.

He stood unmoving until the water heated, head bowed as he watched green mix with water and swirl down the drain. Steam began to cloud the air as the water turned scalding, but he refused to look away. Refused to turn away as Klemper flooded his drain.

He's still alive, his brain tried to reason. You didn't kill him. You wouldn't.

No, Danny knew. He was a monster. A cruel, evil monster.

He was shaking again. His limbs were growing heavier by the second. It took all his strength, but he managed to lift his hands—he had human fingers again—and scrub every inch of his skin and hair. Then again. And again, until the water that pooled at his feet was no longer tinted green.

He shut the shower off and watched the water as it slid down the drain. His legs refused to move until he could be certain that Klemper wasn't going to try climbing back out of it.

Danny wished the ghost would.

His bed was as soft and comfortable as ever when he reached it, but he didn't deserve it. Only humans could sleep in beds. And Danny wasn't human. So he lay on top of his comforter instead, letting the cold air nip at his skin. But his Phantom core thrived in the cold, and it was delighted to have the night to feel the chill air, and Danny wanted to hurl his phone at the wall and scream because his ghost core didn't deserve anything after what it'd done.

He got up and paced his room, human fingers gripping his hair and pulling while his arms shook and his stomach sloshed with ectoplasm that it refused to let Danny hurl up. 

Monster, monster, his brain yelled. He was a monster. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. His shivering limbs and shuddering breath wouldn't allow it. 

Eventually, he crawled back into his bed and stared wide-eyed at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Delusion was still creeping into his brain, lighting candles of hope that Klemper was still alive somewhere. That he'd snuck away invisibly. That he was hiding and recovering. That it wouldn't be too long before Danny saw his toothy smile and heard his annoying voice asking for friendship again.

Danny was too tired to fight the delusions this time. He turned over in his bed and let them take him into their fantasy. And maybe, when he opened his eyes again, the fantasy would be real.

****

"Jeez, what happened over there?" Sam asked.

"What?" Tucker peered from the video he'd been showing Danny on the phone.

"Look!" 

Danny looked over at Sam whose purple-gloved hand was outstretched and pointing up ahead. Danny followed her finger along the sidewalk until he spotted something that sent his stomach plummeting through the pavement.

There was a trail of green on the sidewalk leading around the corner into an alley. It was ectoplasm, Danny knew implicitly. Even though it was beginning to dry and its glow had died down, Danny had seen enough ectoplasm to know with absolute certainty that this was it.

He hadn't realized that this had happened so near his house. That it was on their path to school.

Denial was a stubborn creature, and at once Danny's brain was trying to throw out possibilities. That this was from a previous ghost fight, that the sidewalk had always been green here, that his altercation with Klemper hadn't been bad enough to lead to this much ectoplasm outside of the alley—but he knew, as he approached the entrance with his friends, that this was from last night.

The sight of the ectoplasm only grew as they approached the alley, and Sam and Tucker sped up, gawking at the bloodbath. Danny trailed behind, trying not to throw up the contents of his breakfast in front of his friends.

"Holy shit!" Tucker exclaimed, reaching the entrance.

Sam blinked, her jaw opening and closing as if searching for the right words to describe what was before her. Finally, she settled on, "Holy shit is right."

The last few steps felt like wading through wet cement, but at last, Danny caught up with them. 

He looked up and took in the scene.

A sea of ectoplasm met his eyeline. It painted the ground with dry edges and pools of ectoplasm in the middle. Slashes of it crawled up the brick wall and tagged the dumpster, painting trash bags around it.

It was a massacre. A feral, insane massacre.

It was Klemper. 

It was all that remained of Klemper.

Any last thread of denial that Danny had still been clinging onto in the aftermath of his shock faded in an instant. There was no way Klemper had survived this. Even if Danny didn't remember flashes of his disgusting hand reaching into Klemper's chest and ripping his core from his body, there was far too much ectoplasm here for anyone to recover from.

"What the hell happened here?"

Silence hung in the air, and it took Danny a moment to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene to see Sam and Tucker staring at him questionably.

As if they knew.

Danny glanced down at his hands, half expecting to see claws dripping with green, but only his human fingers remained. Then he remembered that Sam and Tucker weren't asking because they'd seen him in the alley, but because he was the town's protector, and this was a lot of ectoplasm.

An excuse crawled up his throat, but he faltered. His hands began to tremble again, and he shoved them in the pockets of his hoodie. His mind was drawing a blank. He didn't have an excuse.

He could tell them what happened. He could spill his secret right now. He could say that he was a monster, that he'd been craving ectoplasm for weeks now, that he'd ignored it because it was a repulsive desire and he wouldn't do it. But in ignoring that need, he'd starved his ghost half, which retaliated in the most brutal way possible. He could talk about how he'd lost control of his morality and had given fully into his desires just like Vlad would and that he was no better than his worst ghostly enemies.

He could tell them.

But then they would hate him. They'd see him for the monster he truly was and they'd never speak to him again.

It was selfish of him to want friends he didn't deserve. But he was a ghost, and ghosts were selfish.

So, he shrugged.

"You didn't see anything on patrol?" Sam asked.

Danny shook his head, not trusting his voice to answer. He wasn't sure he could speak without cracking.

"Well, whatever it was, it must have been brutal," Tucker said, awe tinging his voice.

It was brutal.

"One of the ghosts didn't make it out, I'll say that for sure," Sam echoed.

She was more right than she knew.

"Maybe feuders?" Tucker turned to Danny with a raised brow. "You know, ghosts that died fighting each other so their unfinished business is that they try to hunt each other down? Maybe they accidentally fell through a portal and ended up in the alley, and one finally finished the other off."

"Probably," Sam agreed. "Definitely looks like some sort of animal fight."

Danny shrugged and looked down at his shoes. It was an animal fight. A rabid, crazed animal fight.

Hardly a fight, the shadow in his brain said. It was an extermination. 

Danny recalled how delirious he'd been without any sense of right or wrong, willing to murder his friend if it meant not having to starve. It was despicable, the way he greedily swallowed each mouthful of ectoplasm as if it were the first and last meal he'd ever eat in his life. It was sick and twisted and vile and now here was the aftermath.

Klemper had never stood a chance.

Sam and Tucker gave the alley one last glance and turned away to continue down the sidewalk. They had school to get to, after all. And as they began walking, Danny heard their conversation slip back into video games or whatever they'd been talking about before coming upon this bloodshed.

But Danny couldn't turn away. He remained in front of the alley, staring into the mess of gore and the last of Klemper's life and blood splayed out in front of him.

"I thought we were friends," is what Klemper had said.

There was no way anyone could be friends with a monster like Danny.

****

Thanks for reading!

And HUGE shoutout to antleredweirdo for the amazing art!! I literally saw it in the submissions and it immediately went to the top of my list. I've always wanted to write a super dark Ghost Hunger AU fic, and this was the PERFECT opportunity! Loved playing around with the shadow, and ahhhhh the whole art piece is amazinggggg!

Hope y'all enjoyed!

****

< part 2

[sirfrogsworth]

Mental Health Sushi

My brain was a bag full of cats today and I really needed to get out of the house. I was also craving sushi.

Or maybe I was craving sushi because of the brain cats?

I don't get paid until Saturday so my friend told me he would buy me dinner to help me calm the cats.

I still don't have my new lens. They said it would be in stock by "end of week" so hopefully that means tomorrow. But my brain cats were also desiring photography.

Some demanding-ass cranial felines to be sure.

I headed across the river to Nice Sam's and I challenged myself to take some photos as I acquired sushi.

Sam's is a challenging place to get cool photos so I thought I would do something experimental to make things more interesting. I love panoramic photos but most people look at stuff on their phones and horizontal panos always look like a tiny sliver. So I wondered if it would be cool if I did vertical panoramas.

I started looking straight down and took 5 photos gradually raising my camera upward.

To all of the grade school bullies who made fun of my belly... I can totally see my feet.

I found the sushi and they had some interesting things. I tried doing a giant sushi panorama but my lens had way too much barrel distortion and the way I shot it caused... issues.

All of those vertical lines didn't help the situation.

If you use a wide angle lens it is best practice to rotate the camera around a nodal point.

This helps eliminate parallax artifacts and helps Photoshop get a better stitch. It can sort of unwrap and flatten your photos like the label on a soda bottle. But when I took a photo, I moved to the left, took a photo, moved to the left, took a photo. That's a better technique when you have a more tele lens with less distortion on the edges.

In any case, I grabbed some spicy tuna roll, a "dynamite" roll (which I had never tried before), and a variety pack.

Once I got my sushi I tried a few more vertical panoramas in the parking lot.

These two are kinda neat when you switch back and forth rapidly. My belly and feet line up. And I totally planned that. Definitely not a coincidence.

Hey PandaKhan! Put your cart back in the corral!

I was trying to look cool and roll my cart so it buttsex'd into the next one... but that just inched it forward. So I had to buttsex them the less cool way.

Which is a reminder to all you buttsexing folks to use a quality lubricant.

Oh, and I was also test driving my new jacket. I haven't needed to outstretch my arms like Superman as of yet, so the sizing might be okay after all.

Though, do those shoulders look a bit bunchy to you? I'm getting linebacker vibes from this photo. I dunno. I'm going to take better pictures later so I can evaluate the fit a little better. It's hard to tell from the mirror shots.

When I got home I started with the Dynamite Roll.

The crunchy onions on top were very tasty.

I don't know if my brain cats are any better but at least I'm not hungry anymore.

[lightwise]

Be There - Parts 1 & 2

Note: As I like to do (aka my brain holds me hostage until it is satisfied), I had to fill in a couple of moments that we didn’t get in S3 E4 - A Different Approach. I am approaching Tech and Echo’s absence as each character is aware of it so far—so whether he is dead or simply gone, mentions of Tech are not meant to imply that he is physically present in these scenes. 

Enjoy. 

Read both parts together here on AO3.

SPOILERS for season 3 of TBB ahead.

Part 1: Our mission isn’t over yet. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Wrecker stared unblinking at the yellow transmission light as it lit up for the third time. Hunter had stepped away from the console for a brief minute to rest his eyes. This wasn’t standard procedure. When Echo or Rex or Phee needed to reach them, they usually used their wrist comms or the portable holo. The inbuilt console had been…Tech’s domain. 

“Uh, Hunter…you might wanna see this.”

A gruff sigh came from the pilot’s seat. “See what, Wreck?” 

The last beep finally entered Hunter’s consciousness as he tried to brush off the weariness that threatened to overtake him. So far they were only a third of the way around the sector found in the data from Setron. More time had been lost taking the cadets all the way out to Pabu too (not that he regretted the stop). His mind couldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop thinking through the next place they could look every time a planet turned up empty, but he could feel his ligaments starting to fray at the edges in protest. 

Wrecker would have pointed out that he had been falling apart at more than the edges for awhile now. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until they brought her home. He just needed to keep it together until then. 

“I…I don’t remember what the codes mean but…isn’t that…does this…”

Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get them to focus enough to read the sharp white letters that had appeared on the dashboard. Two innocuous lines, in an old coding sequence that Tech had set up before…he blinked that thought away. 

OM.P53.NMR.2SR. BT.

Plan 53 (all comms silent for a stealth rendezvous). Nearest moon of Ryloth. 2 standard rotations. Be there. 

But it was the first letters in the sequence that caused his heart to stop in his chest. 

“I shall make it so that the first two letters of each of our names signify who is sending the message. They should always be the first letters in the sequence.” A tilt of the head and a push of the goggles up his nose had accompanied Tech giving a very pointed look in Wrecker’s direction. “That should be easier to remember than full code names, I hope.”

OM. Omega. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Nobody outside of the Batch knew this frequency—or code.

“It’s HER.” 

He gripped the edge of the console in a daze. How?? She had escaped? She had somehow found a way to contact them. She…she was alive.

“But…how do we know for sure?” Wrecker’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “After all the luck we’ve been having…what if this is a trap, Hunter?”

The words Hunter had said before their failed mission to Eriadu haunted him now, thrown back in his face like a taunt. He knew Wrecker didn’t mean it that way, though.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I really don’t think so. But either way…we have to try it.” He glanced at the chronometer on the dash and pulled up the coordinates to Ryloth. “Especially this location…only Omega would have picked here, where she met Hera for the first time. She knows it will be off the radar but easy to get to. We can just make it if we get going now.” He had barely swung the pilot’s seat back around before furiously punching in the coordinates. 

The Marauder’s engines picked up from their lull as they launched forward into hyperspace. Wrecker slumped into the seat beside him, staring out the flickering blue around them for a long moment. He had picked up Lula from her perch on Omega’s blanket at some point, and was passing her tenderly back and forth in his hands. 

“I really hope you’re right.”

They cautiously exchanged glances as the shock and adrenaline of the last few minutes wore off. For the first time in a very, very, long time, Hunter felt the faintest flicker of something he could call hope. But he didn’t dare let it burst into full flame. Not yet. 

Wrecker suddenly chuckled and clapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Ya know, we’re a mess. We really should clean up before we get there.” His voice lowered a bit as he added, “no reason making her worry any more than she probably already is at how rough we look.” 

Hunter scowled and pinched his brow. His brother was right. The lack of sleep and hygiene had caught up with them at this point, and they smelled worse than they looked. Omega would be able to see the wear and tear on their armor eventually, but at least they could be presentable to welcome her home. 

“Fine, I’ll go shower,” he huffed, giving Wrecker a strained grin that turned into a groan as he tore his limbs out of the seat. 

The view in the mirror only confirmed his disheveled state, and he groaned again as he tugged the bandana off his forehead and slumped against the fresher wall.

Please, please let this be real. I don’t know if I can bear another false lead.

They had crossed the galaxy five times at this point. He would a hundred more if that’s what it took. They didn’t leave their own behind.

Most of the time. 

His ears began ringing. The unbidden thought that had been slowly poking its way through his subconscious finally breached the surface. What if…what if Omega had been taken to the same facility as Crosshair. What if they had found each other? What if…she wasn’t alone?

Deke’s words had been painfully etching their way deeper and deeper into his heart since the boy had carelessly uttered them.

“At least you’re loyal.” 

If only he knew. Once Hunter had claimed those words proudly. It was the ethos he had lived by. Still wanted to live by. But…he wasn’t sure he deserved that label anymore. Too many mistakes had been made. He had failed too many times. 

Echo had told him once that their unbeatable streak on missions during the war wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And every time Hunter thought he was making the right decision, he ended up proving him right. He wasn’t prepared for the weight of failure. For the ways everything kept slipping through his clenched fists. For watching his brother point a rifle in his face and walk away. For not having the right words to bring him back. For all the ways he had to choose when there was no good choice to be had. For watching his entire world fall away. For picking shattered goggles up off the ground. For the dark and empty gunners mount that had been staring him in the face for five and a half months. 

Silver hair and a toothpick between thin lips suddenly floated in front of his eyes, sneering at him. Every choice you’ve made has been wrong. We’re all lost because of you. And then it shifted, the silver hair morphing into a scarred head and terrified, wide eyes that glistened with tears. Begging, pleading. Why weren’t you weren’t loyal to me?

No, no, no, NO. Hunter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to stop the vortex spinning out of control inside his head. A sob escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. He could never repair any of this. He didn’t know how. 

He sucked in a breath as he felt the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder that couldn’t possibly be there. A clipped voice suddenly echoed through his mind. I have found that repairs, while daunting at first, simply take repeated effort and inclination in order to achieve them. It’s like a puzzle. The pieces are there, you just have to pay attention and take the time to put them back together. Steady hands. No Hunter, try moving it this way. See? I knew you could do it. 

If only he was here. Hunter wiped the traces of tears from his eyes as his hitched breathing slowly evened out. Whatever—whoever was waiting for them on that moon—he would have to face them. Whether it was a waking dream or another nightmare. He had crossed the galaxy five times in as many months. But he still hadn’t been able to outrun the pain. Hadn’t been able to outrun himself.  

It was time to try a different approach.   

Maybe not everything had to be lost. 

-----------

Part 2: You don’t know if they’re still alive.  

“They’ll be there.”

She had cut him off adamantly. The full force of her hope (her naïveté, he had called it just a few hours prior), pushing firmly against his gentle attempt at reason. 

Crosshair knew he wasn’t just trying to prepare Omega for the possibility that Hunter and Wrecker might not be waiting for them. For them? No, they would only be waiting for her. They had stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

No, his words were more an attempt at quelling his own twisted anxiety at the prospect of facing his brothers again. It had been…a year? More? Since he had stayed behind on that blasted platform. It felt like ten lifetimes ago now. So much had changed. He had changed. Or had he? 

 A staccato thud flung them out of hyperspace, the stolen freighter now drifting quietly past the two giant orange moons that guarded Omega’s choice of rendezvous. 

Still standing behind the copilot chair, his trained eye spotted the tiny speck of light coming from the open ramp of the Marauder. So they were alive. Of course. The tiniest twitch spasmed in Crosshair’s chest at the sight. 

That open door was for her, he reminded himself again. Not him. 

The girl stood unmoving as they touched down. Her spine straight, shoulders pulling down and back, and he could see the faintest reflection in the viewport of tears welling up in her eyes. 

The ramp began to lower and she suddenly came to life, arms and legs almost flailing in her haste to reach the ground. Though he could no longer see her face, as she paused at the last step Crosshair could tell that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The weight of taking care of herself, taking care of him, getting them both to safety. 

She had accomplished her mission. 

He had to admit, he was impressed by her. Maybe he was starting to understand a little of how quickly Hunter’s loyalty had transferred to her, how she must have driven them all crazy at first with her bright-eyed optimism and inability to take no for an answer.

She really was the best of them. 

He sighed as her words echoed in his mind—“I’m not giving up, Crosshair! I won’t let you either.” Her stubbornness was certainly the family trait, and perhaps surpassed his own.  

Those words had somehow burrowed into his chest and wouldn’t leave. But they hadn’t shocked him. He expected her to say them to anyone. They fit perfectly within the love and loyalty she showed everyone around her.     

What had shocked him were the ones she said later, after he had tried every tactic he could think of to get her focus off of him and onto her own safety. He had long since accepted what the rest of his accelerated lifespan might be—serving as a test tube and punching bag for the Empire he had once sought glory from. How fitting, really. It was his penance, for everything he had done. Everything he had failed to do. 

Why should he have a chance to live when...he sighed again and pushed away the memories threatening to engulf him. Long brown hair and a beard blurred white with snow. Round, yellow-tinted lenses blinking pointedly in his direction. The remnants of a skull chalked onto the back wall of a bunk—just enough dust left to stain his fingers. 

“None of us belong here.”

The Empire changed people. For the worse. But after all those months of isolation, all his attempts to drive her away, to keep his distance so she would stay safe—he never expected for those wide eyes to practically beam sunlight at him in that force-forsaken, grey haze of a prison. She had seen him, then. Truly seen him for who he was—and still believed in him. In all of them.  

She had tried to give him the same outstretched hand many times before—during their desperate attempts to flee the sinking facilities of Kamino; on the sun-soaked platform after. In that makeshift holding cell after Kaller, where all of this had started. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she had offered it one more time, or that he was finally willing to try and accept it. 

Batcher whined from her corner of the cockpit, tilting her head hesitantly at Crosshair as he remained fixated, unable to move from the viewport. His musings faded as he saw a shift in the light; Wrecker’s large form had suddenly darkened the doorway of the Marauder. 

Crosshair dug his spine into the door frame behind him, waiting. 

He didn’t have Hunter’s hearing, but he didn’t need it. He could imagine just how loud the shout of joy was that Wrecker let out as he ran to meet his little—their little sister. A faint smirk threatened to tilt his lips as the giant of a man lifted Omega high above his head and spun her around, wiping tears unashamedly from his eyes. Crosshair expected nothing less. He was sure there were matching tears streaming down Omega’s face as she clung desperately to her—their brother.

But where was…Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as they caught movement inside the Marauder. Was he truly prepared to see the etched face of his former leader, brother—friend—once again? A now familiar yet terrifyingly unwelcome spasm in his hand told him he was not.  

Hunter emerged from the shadows, stopping before the overhead light could illuminate his face. 

He must have said something, before practically leaping down the Marauder’s ramp as Omega catapulted herself forward again. Crosshair’s eyes softened as he watched his stoic, touch-averse brother cradle the girl in his arms, his eyes closed, his hands shifting over her back as though he would never let her go. 

Could he blame him?

But the atmosphere shifted abruptly as Hunter pulled back, his warm smile and affectionate gaze at Omega turning into a wide-eyed, disbelieving gape as he lifted his eyes toward the freighter behind her. There was no way he could see him through the tint of the cockpit, but his other senses were more than adequate at that distance. Hunter had finally realized that Omega had not escaped alone.

Crosshair felt panic wash over him. His gaze shifted to the pilot’s controls. It would be so easy to take the wheel and disappear, leave them all behind once again. Omega was safe. That was all that mattered, right? He could ditch the ship and find work on some backwater planet, do his best to keep off the Empire’s radar.

Batcher slowly shook herself and stood up from where she had been napping the last few hours, her eyes never leaving his. His lips tightened into a thin line as they stared each other down.  

He finally let out a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and crouching down until he could rest his hand on the curve of her head. 

“I know, I know.”

She growled a little and then licked his hand, pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave in return. 

“I’m done running. Promise.” 

He achingly stood back to his full height and turned toward the back of the ship. He could almost feel Hunter’s shocked gaze still on him. Whatever message Omega had sent them, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to walk down that ramp after her. After all the wrong choices—how could this one possibly go any better?

The tremor took over his hand again. But he suddenly, faintly, felt the pressure of a familiar, slender hand on his shoulder. And another, firmer grip cradling his trembling fingers, easing the shattered nerves. A pulse he thought he would never hear again thrummed next to his own for the briefest of seconds. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

It was time to try living again. 

Divider by the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ✨

[aethercurrent]

If you've been around, I just finished Time Travel AU. If you're from AO3, you know what this post is and you can skip further down to read more. If you don't know what Time Travel AU is, it's a long FFXIV fanfic I've been working on for the better part of six years. Five and a half of which it's been online to read.

This post is to document some of the early plotting that I never talked about written down into a coherent-ish(?) post. Mostly to get it out of my system and to hopefully stave off the absolute breakdown I'll have once that "it's finished after six years" thing settles in.

Let's start this off with something funnier, because this a looooooooong post: the name.

(That isn't a word, for the record. I just mashed two nouns together to be funny.)

And then, finally, being a class clown at heart, I follow that up with:

It wasn't too long, and that joke that took me half a minute to come up with stuck around. It still makes me chuckle.

But, I suppose now we go back to a couple months before that conversation took place.

~

The first idea for the AU started rotating in my head a few days after finishing Shadowbringers. I’m kind of a sucker for time travel of any sort (a good chunk of my favourite media of all time includes it somehow!), and another thing I enjoy is enemies to “unfortunately, we’re on the same side for a while”.

So, as one does after a game thoroughly rearranges their brain, I started throwing darts at random points and saw what started sticking.

The first major things decided for the fic at that early conception stage were the following points:

the time travellers are WOL, Exarch, Ryne, Elidibus

the Final Days were caused by the star itself

Hythlodaeus (shade or real deal) is involved (maybe as 14th?)

Hydaelyn and Zodiark are non-violently undone by the end

it ends with a city by the Crystal Tower on the Source

I started drafting a few ideas for it over a couple weeks while waiting for 5.1.

Initially I genuinely wasn’t sure if the WOL in the story was going to be Meteor or my own WOL (every iteration of her has been in this fic, but when it started she was actually still a male Seeker… he’s the jumpy conjurer tagging along in the Praetorium; and the Dunesfolk, Highlander, and the Hrothgar are all obvious or hidden in the background, too). It took me a while before I settled on Meteor, mostly because I don’t want to ship her with NPCs, really. Also, Catboy Lahen was extremely jumpy and wouldn’t have been able to keep him being a time traveller and an Ascian secret for long. I needed someone made of sterner stuff, sorry Catboy Lahen.

The party was a proper light party at that stage, too, even before I settled on Meteor (Meteor / Ryne as tank, Exarch as healer, Ryne / Lahen and Elidibus as DPS)… and then dropped that once I started getting into the more detailed part of plotting.

By the time 5.1 rolled around I begrudgingly accepted that the WOL was going to be the 14th member of the Convocation, but I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t like that. I still don’t like it, actually. I would’ve liked the WOL being a genuine random soul choosing the road and becoming modern day Azem just as Venat and her successor were before them, instead of having it just be Venat’s successor 2 electric boogaloo.

I also finally accepted the clown’s nose and admitted that my favourite Ascian was Lahabrea because he was a good villain back when I started in the last couple days of 2014. I was disappointed that after how much Emet-Selch and Elidibus got and were getting throughout the end of Stormblood and Shadowbringers, Lahabrea still hadn’t gotten much of anything else. Yes. The first time I met one of my now better friends, she joined call for Endwalker fanfest and the first thing she ever heard from me was me straight up bursting into tears over FFIV references and Pandaemonium.

A few more plot points were also starting to come together:

I wanted Emet-Selch and Lahabrea as POV characters

Hythlodaeus definitely was going to be one as well

he was going to have sat by and watched all of history

he was going to be tempered by Hydaelyn and Zodiark

Unukalhai, if not a POV character, was going to be somewhat important

the party was going to try saving some NPCs who died (success rate varying)

Meteor’s characterisation started to crystallise a bit more

because of that, they were going to try and substantially alter the Steppe section

Lahabrea would be explosive early on, leading to him being taken out of 2.55

Minfilia vanished before she could catch on to Ascian shenanigans

Ysayle would catch on to that, though

It’s glossed over in the finished fic because it’s mostly irrelevant, but as I worked on on the plot draft more and more, I noticed that the party accidentally fit into the elemental chart rather neatly:

Lahabrea as lightning; most volatile and destructive party member

Emet-Selch as fire; also fairly temperamental and not easy to work with

Elidibus as wind; easier to handle but still fairly dangerous

Meteor as earth; unmoving object that can bury a lot of things if they want to

Exarch as water; that one was mostly a “river of time” joke, I won’t lie

Ryne as ice; it’s the closest to light and once she’s determined she’s unyielding

Hythlodaeus as light; absolute stasis due to his circumstances

Unukalhai as darkness; always on the move and always thinking

A lot of the character dynamic comes from that! Emet-Selch and Lahabrea don’t get along, Elidibus manages to get along with both of them. Ryne as the most interesting mortal out of the bunch as far as Emet-Selch is concerned stems from a fire and ice joke that ran away with me; him and the Exarch butting heads is a water and fire joke. The reason why Ryne was the one to surprise Elidibus comes from the fact that she’s a solid ice wall to his wind, and so on and so forth.

That’s also why Unukalhai remains closer to the Ascians to some degree, while Hythlodaeus has absolutely no qualms whatsoever interacting with mortals as long as his restrictions are adhered to even if he doesn’t like them in the end.

It became extremely less relevant as time went on, but a lot of the early fic can be traced to that elemental balance.

Along with the elemental balance of the team, I started working on the magic system for the Ancients. I was extremely stuck on the sidequests in Amaurot and how two of them dealt with the WOL not being able to use creation magicks. I thought it was interesting that it seemed as if the one making clothes didn’t use a concept crystal, while in one you were handed one to summon those funny slimes.

The final point was that you had to catch a cubus for one while you didn’t for the other.

So, eventually I came to the magic system in the fic. Three classes of magicks (body, soul, environment), and differing levels of innate ability and trained skill. Ironically, the three antagonist Unsundered all fit into three out of four extremes of that latter scale…

Then there was the question of what was considered “dark arts” before the Sundering. It wasn’t necessary, none of the main characters would be students of the dark arts, but it was a fun thought experiment. Eventually I came up with the idea to animate something inanimate with malicious intent. Living weapons, defensive automatons, sentient traps, and so on and so forth.

I started applying that to all of the relevant Ancients, and it was a lot more fun than I want to admit here.

Essentially what the concept crystals thing came down to in the end was a certain level of intricate casting and preservation. Lahabrea can create a flock of his birds effortlessly because he knows the concept inside out with all its details and intricacies, while someone trying to summon it themselves would have to use a crystal to get the details right. That’s also why most of the time the Ascians don’t seem to be using concept crystals—they aren’t creating much, and when they are it’s things they already know how to make.

Actually, I dug out the notes on the innate/trained scale. There’s a lot of things that are irrelevant for the fic on that, but let me write down the most relevant ones:

Emet-Selch: soul; high innate/low trained

Lahabrea: body; high innate/high trained

Elidibus: environment; low innate/high trained

Hythlodaeus: soul; high innate/not trained

Alexis (Meteor’s ancient): environment/dark arts; low innate/medium trained

Igeyorhm: body; medium innate/high trained

Minfilia: body; low innate/low trained

Venat: environment; medium innate/high trained

Rafael (previous Elidibus): soul; low innate/high trained

There was also the question of what to do with Ancients in general. True, we had the shades in Amaurot as a general idea, but just like with Azem above, I wasn’t a fan of the featureless or just “human” thing. I still am not, for the record. I think it’s goofy to have everyone be proto-Hyurs and then post-Sundering we suddenly have Hydaelyn give some people a goddess-assigned fursona. And that’s coming from someone who previously played a Hyur, for the record!

But just like how magic focused on the elements specifically instead of the broader strokes, I decided that in ancient times there would be one term for the different tribes. I tried to handwave the shades away with making the region around Amaurot the ancestral home of proto-Hyurs… and then only had one of them in the party. Oops!

Overall, my thought process was to address the weird lore bit that apparently interracial relationships are frowned upon in Eorzea. I mostly wanted to… not… have that apply for ancient times because it’s fucking weird. Not gonna call it anything other than that.

From there, it was as simple as… naming everything and everyone, giving them a place they come from, and… oh god I wrote so much stuff that never came up just so it stayed internally consistent y’all, I almost don’t want to talk about it.

The main notes on that are in Astral Scions, Umbral Sinners I, but to recap:

Hyurs were Amaurotines

Elezen were Atlanteans

Miqo’te were Children of Sirius

Lalafell were Saronian Marchers (Saro)

Roegadyn were the Galg

Viera were Lunarians

Hrothgar were the Watchers

Au Ra were white-scaled Steelhearts and black-scaled Flareseekers; formerly the Volcana

Specifically the Au Ra have a lot of background history that gets mentioned due to Lahabrea being a Flareseeker. Long story. Too long for this already long post.

Speaking of Lahabrea, though; there was rhyme and reason behind why the Ascians were what they were.

Lahabrea (Flareseeker+Amaurotine) is a renowned scholar who also is something of a social outcast both in Amaurot due to his Flareseeker heritage and in Bodhum due to his Amaurotine heritage, which leads to him being quite hard to deal with thanks to bad experiences way in the past

Elidibus (Child of Sirius+Saronian Marcher) is both very quiet and observant and still relies on company if not community and is rather lost without the support of those he deems his family

Emet-Selch (Amaurotine) is the one who misses home the fiercest out of all of them because that’s where his family and he always belonged, that’s where everyone he ever loved was

Hythlodaeus (Atlantean+Amaurotine-Lunarian) feels all over the place and cuts out his paternal home under the waves and his maternal home high above ground to find his own home

Venat (Amaurotine+Lunarian) grew up on her father’s stories about how the star looks from the Floating City of Babil and wanted the more grounded people of her home to see that as well

Another fun thing about ancient times was the fact that I could do whatever I want. It’s not that glaringly obvious with their names, but when it comes to their cities and settlements in general, I got to go a bit wild with it.

And with “wild” I mean I had some fun picking settlement names across the Final Fantasy series. I hope people who know the series a bit outside of XIV itself had some fun with the interludes; I know I had a lot of fun with it. I think if I had to pick a favourite it’d be the Floating City of Babil, the underground city Insomnia, and Archades on the mountains by the sea.

Again, I think having everything, apparently, be Ancient Greek Mythology is… stifling. I admit that even in my more canon-compliant other works I struggle with it. There’s a lot of myths to draw inspiration from; I for one would’ve loved Hermes to deal with a mfing Wolpertinger. Creature of all time.

But… at that point I was writing two different drafts. One where Unukalhai joined shortly before Hythlodaeus as POV character (which also was a joke about the darkness-aligned character joining before the light-aligned one because darkness is active), and one where he remained a non-POV but important character. Kind of similar to what Minfilia became after she was saved! It was the same for both of them up until he joined the party for good.

If I had gone with 7 POV characters instead of my full party set-up, there was a bit of an act dedicated to unravelling his feelings on this nonsense. Specifically a non-POV Unukalhai wouldn’t have spent as much time with everyone else and would have gone down a different mental rabbit hole of eventually struggling with not being able to get his revenge on Igeyorhm while also starting to feel like a replacement heist from an alternate timeline self is extremely creepy considering how the “heroes” of the Void all changed until they were effectively replaced by alternate versions of themselves. He’d have tagged along for Meteor’s Regula mission and would have gotten to hear their version of the replacement heist after they escape from Garlemald together. (Meteor taking over this timeline’s version of themself grew much less important overall as the drafting continued, so it never really came up again beyond Titan where the alternate self died during Living Dead).

After that Unukalhai would have mellowed out a bit until he would join the Ascians and Cylva on the First to deal with the Flood of Light. That would’ve been the last of him until the part where Meteor and G’raha come to the Empty.

Overall, a non-POV Unukalhai would have been less gloomy but also would have been a completely different beast. He remains fairly introspective and reclusive across both drafts, but the reclusion gets the better of him as non-POV character.

The setting itself was also becoming rather rigid—part of having so many things set in stone while adding more and more. It would be extraordinarily hard to integrate whatever canon proceeded with. I couldn’t add or remove characters because that led to a ripple effect throughout the whole plot, and the ending was admittedly the first thing I decided on after I got the idea for the premise. It was the only thing I couldn’t negotiate myself out of.

I can work with that! I’ve worked with that before!

But unlike previous longfics, something about TTAU felt daunting in ways I couldn’t articulate at any point. Still can’t. I guess I just really wanted it to be everything I’d want to read at any given time, and I really am my own harshest critic. Great going, Ms aethercurrent née vanitaslaughing, now you’ve made yourself anxious about disappointing the target audience (yourself).

I also struggled with not only making it fun for me but also for readers; I wouldn’t have posted it if I didn’t want to share it with people. I hope I did a good job in the end, but really I can only speak for myself here. If you read it, even partially, I hope you at least had some measure of fun before you dropped that absolute behemoth of a fic, and if you finished it entirely there are no words in either language I speak to convey how happy I am that my silly big baby entertained you to stick through with it until the end.

I eventually reached a point where more and more details were starting to form that were needed to keep things straight while probably never coming up.

Every member of the Convocation before the Sundering has a name and was assigned a race. Most of them are mentioned in an Interlude, but in most cases there’s some sort of underlying joke to them. Similarly all of them received titles similar to Speaker, Emissary, Architect, Seer; I attempted to keep it somewhat balanced and/or in line with a fantasy government. Messenger Mitron and Listener Loghrif sound a bit redundant with the Emissary Elidibus around, but those two specifically mostly stick to Amaurot and the more immediate surrounding settlements—specifically calling back to that one city mentioned in the sidequests in Amaurot where you deal with the debating shades. Something akin to a national relations minister, an international relations minister, and one specifically for the neighbouring countries.

At around that time the Twelve were also decided to be actual genuine deities of the star. A bit of inspiration comes from Sailor Moon (nothing concretely 100% similar, but the Twelve are effectively the star’s Sailor Scouts who also have the ability to become a new small system if they decide to leave), but I mostly just wanted them to be, y’know. Gods. Coming back to the issue I have with canon going “everything’s Amaurot”, I can’t say I love how the Twelve are in canon but I do adore them as characters. It made me choosing Menphina as the one to speak with the group all the more sweeter since I think out of all of them she’s my favourite design-wise.

There was also the thing with the Seer position that needed to be tackled at this point. I’m morbidly fascinated by characters who know the story they’re in but can’t do much to influence it because they can only tell what path they’re on depending on the ending.

I think the biggest struggle especially towards the end was the fact that I often drafted at least two possible POVs for a chapter. I often went in expecting to write one POV, got stuck irreversibly on it somehow, steamrolled the whole thing, and wrote out the other draft. I’ve cannibalised previous drafts into complete rewrites of the same POV a lot more than you’d think I have. And I only save a copy of a chapter that reached a certain word threshold or if there’s something integral written to a degree I like.

One of the worst offenders of the bunch was Chapter 78… which became Chapter 79 when I posted it. Yeah. It got so bad and frustrating that I had to make dealing with Hythlodaeus future me’s problem. Thankfully it didn’t cut too much into the pacing thanks to Act XI being extremely slow due to how introspective it was.

In the earlier days one of the other struggles was formatting. Something about my documents went haywire when pasted, leading to endless strings of completely superfluous <spans> that added strange spacing issues between all that mess. It was something that my older works struggled with too, which became a non-issue over the years (thankfully. I shudder thinking about possibly having to deal with that issue while already spending 48 hours formatting Eden Rewrite correctly).

The documents just eventually started to bug out because they were so damned long. I never expected them to be in one, but I have five documents holding all of this fic. It’s rather funny to see four chilling and the fifth on top with a 00 as its first characters in the document title so I see it first.

It's... really bittersweet to remove that 00 and seeing them all together now.

That's... about it for the fic as it was posted there. Whether you read the fic or just read this post, once again: thank you.

Thank you for sticking with me for six years, or for reading about the earliest of these six years!

~

For those who remember at a certain point I was considering overhauling the fic and implementing canon from Endwalker at that time, there's a bit more post to go specifically relating to that idea!

You’d think I’d struggle with keeping the canon characters and the fanfiction versions apart as someone who prefers staying canon compliant, but over the years those guys became their own beasts. Ophion could never have been Themis, but why would I want them to be the same? I needed Ophion for this fic to work, after all.

A lot, and I mean a metric shitton of stuff, breaks and changes there. It’s been a fun thought experiment at the very least. I’ll be the first one to admit that I don’t like the Warrior of Light being a reincarnation of Azem’s sundered soul; I just like them being a nobody with no preconceived notion that they’re bound to adventure no matter what because that’s what their soul always did… but Hythlodaeus likewise can’t replace them in that case.

The solution to that first massive hurdle? I suck up the Azem thing, and instead of an Unsundered Hythlodaeus, the one that joins the party is the Shade. His plot stays surprisingly intact through all of that, but instead of dealing with forced indecisiveness it becomes more of a plot about identity and what to do when you’re a creation on the path to freeing the real deal you were based on.

Out of all of them, Lahabrea changes surprisingly little—I wrote him like a stern father to Igeyorhm in this, and you can mostly mix and match a lot of that onto Erichthonios. Instead of dealing with her ascensions and the fact that she needed to be taken out, Lahabrea gets to see his son reincarnate and die over and over again.

Honestly? I could even keep the dual Elidibus approach. Instead of Ophion (the previous one’s student) and Rafael (the Zodiark sacrifice), it would be Elidibus (the Heart of Zodiark) and Themis (the rest of the Heart still remaining with Zodiark). There would be a lot of overlap with the Shade here but in the end the Shade and Hythlodaeus would exist independently from one another while the Heart of Zodiark reunites and becomes Themis again.

I think the parts where I would have to genuinely start rewriting it entirely is where to integrate canon Venat over TTAU Venat and the Endsinger. TTAU Venat is a lot more mellow than canon Venat—a shitty mother but an excellent politician versus canon’s all-loving hero with an understanding of but no love lost for politics. The Meteia as a villain are a lot less vague and distant than the Star Itself. Instead of a journey to the innermost reaches it’s to the edge of the universe. Doable, yes, but marginally harder to do. Honestly, thinking about it as I’m writing this, I think I would have to do an arc where at least Meteor if not all Sundered go to Elpis in the past to learn something while the Unsundered+Shade remain in the present to deal with the Final Days…?

Actually, let’s tackle the characters one by one in a canon-adjusted remake.

This would be assuming that there is inter-shard travel so the starting group would still be Meteor, Ryne, and G’raha. The one major major change would be that instead of Elidibus the “Ancient” to go with them would be the Shade.

Meteor would change the least. They don’t care about being Alexis, they don’t care about being Azem either. They’re one of a handful children of a farmer family in La Noscea, not some sort of government freak from ancient times long before they were ever born. They didn’t start travelling because their soul told them to after they got the Echo, they started travelling because they damn well wanted to after seeing the Calamity, get outta here with that “Azem” nonsense.

In an Elpis episode they would do the opening section for the most part. Not much else to say here.

G’raha would be a lot more cheerful once the initial horror stage of travelling through time to prevent the end of the world again faded. He’d still have his struggles with the idea of possibly letting down the future Ironworks and being arguably the least experienced in the adventuring department.

In an Elpis episode, G’raha would likely be the one to deal with Venat overall. She’d be the perfect foil to him; an experienced traveller to his inexperienced adventurer. They’re both old but he’s barely a blip on her lifespan. They’re both incredibly determined to find the reason for why this is happening.

Ryne would feel a bit more resentment towards Ascians in general at that point. Other than that, her struggle was always being the odd one out amongst the Sundered, about being face to face with the woman she was named after and seeing why that woman was so beloved. About finding her own niche and staying there, no matter the people she loses.

I think out of all of the Sundered in a possible back-in-time-again Elpis episode, she would be the one to sympathise the most with Hermes despite also possibly interacting with him the least; she would likely lead the charge right before Ktisis Hyperboreia and her plot in Elpis would mostly be about travelling treacherous foreign terrain just the way Thancred taught her.

Unukalhai’s a bit of an odd case. After all there’s still two drafts, one where he joins the party as main POV character, and one where he becomes something along the lines of TTAU Minfilia. In a rework of that, I’d have to apply a lot of the Void lore since revealed to him, which makes him go from an odd case to an even odder case. He’d… either possibly involuntarily make Azdaja’s predicament worse, or free her before Endwalker happens but she loses her memories and becomes his cool new partner in crime until a completely flabbergasted Vrtra has to drop the facade immediately because no one told him a thrice-damned Warrior of Light had his sister tagging along what the fuck.

The hypothetical Elpis Episode would have a POV Unukalhai likely be the one to help Meteion get a gift for Hermes. His already intense internal hatred coming to the surface to turn a flower from bright white to darkest shadow, mirroring what happened with Hermes and the flowers in the past? Yeah. That’s the good shit.

In a non-POV case he’d stick with the Scions to help deal with the Final Days and his section of the story most likely would have gone to Ryne.

Ophion would likely still be a soul in Zodiark. Other than that, he’s not relevant.

Themis or the Heart of Zodiark… wouldn’t necessarily be the first one to join them. Actually, I think he’d be the last one. Immovable object without memories meets unstoppable force that draws in his allies. Overall he would be a lot colder on account of having no memories, and be rather fiercely protective of the other Unsundered for reasons he cannot recall. He’d make for an excellent diplomat, but it would likewise lead straight into his greatest vice: vague, foggy memories of something other other that might float up to the surface on occasion. Claudien would be an extremely weak spot for him, except unlike Lahabrea in the same position, Themis cannot tell how or why he’s reacting like that.

While the Sundered are off for their Episode Elpis, Themis would likely scour through the Crystal Tower to find a way to interact with the him from the timeline the others came from.

Emet-Selch would be the first legitimate Ascian to “join” their cause.

Mostly out of morbid curiosity, partially because he wants to figure out how in the name of all good graces a recreation of Hythlodaeus with sentience so advanced it can be deadpan sarcastic and have an identity crisis is with there, and it’s driving him just a bit insane. He’d actually be a lot more antagonistic as a result, and he’d be the one mostly bemoaning the Sundered and how Meteor is a disgrace to Azem early on until they have enough of his nonsense and beat him up. That would serve the purpose of actually confirming that they have the strength to kill an alternate timeline version of Emet-Selch and he mellows out a bit. Not much. Just a bit.

Overall he’d be a lot more prickly—which makes for an interesting switch when during the Final Days on the Source he very swiftly drops the antagonism. It’s a bit of a “been there, done that��� attitude but since the star itself is in danger he has surprisingly few qualms about saving a few Sundered while he’s at it.

Lahabrea wouldn’t change much like I said, though there would be a lot more ruthlessness behind anything and everything he does. He’s willing to walk over corpses no matter what instead of calming down a little on that once he’s been thoroughly humbled (and untempered).

He’d also be a bit more strangely sentimental internally around Minfilia specifically; he already compares her to Igeyorhm a few times in TTAU proper but in a canon-compliant rewrite the comparison point would be Erichthonios. No matter how ruthless he is, at the end of Pandæmonium he and Erichthonios started the long journey of making up, and Minfilia reminds him of Erichthonios’s best qualities in a quite haunting way. They’re both tenacious and care about everything and everyone from the bystander to the one causing the mess… except Minfilia is a bit more spicy and willing to speak her mind. He wouldn’t be as fond of her by the end, but he’d still accept her terms and teach her.

Lahabrea during the Final Days would likely be recruited by Urianger and the Loporrits as additional quality control.

I’ve gone over the Hyth Shade, but the endgame there would be essentially affirming that he is as much a person as the Sundered are. Sure, he may have been someone else’s creation but that doesn’t make him any less a person on this star, not to mention he was one of the time travellers.

The real Hythlodaeus also would’ve been rather delighted to have an identical twin, and one who’s fighting against the Final Days no less.

Can’t go into too much detail otherwise, since this canon compliant version never quite left the drafting phases for obvious reasons. He’s the one character who more reacted to the plot than being the one to move it along, and without the plot there isn’t much to say.

He’d have stayed behind to deal with the Final Days, and he’d likely have been one of the first to go to Garlemald when news of the skies changing there broke.

The one major departure from canon would be that Zodiark and Hydaelyn aren’t fully slain—Zodiark specifically it put under a complete stasis spell in the middle of unravelling, but that breaks the protective shroud He has over Etheirys and the Final Days start happening again. Hydaelyn created meticulous seals and mechanisms to ensure that despite being bound the protective shroud remains, but under full stasis and while the whole thing is falling apart…

(Hyth Shade was the one to suggest it to the Watcher, Elidibus, and Emet-Selch as an absolute last resort. None of them really wanted Zodiark to suffer; the main goal still remains to bring back those Ancients should it prove possible).

All issues with how wonky and not finished that is aside, I’d also get a lot of extremely fun things to explore. Jullus already is one of my favourite characters introduced in Endwalker, but having him tell his story to Emet-Selch would be super interesting. There’s knowing what you’re doing, and there’s coming face to face with it, and that would genuinely be super cool to do.

Then there’d be the whole Heart of Sabik business—I’d unironically love for that whole mess to unfold with the real Lahabrea and Elidibus there while there’s memory-creations Erichthonios and Themis there as well. That would be absolutely chaotic on top of Athena also being there. Atrocious vibes, ten out of ten.

Likewise, Ryne and Vrtra would also be an interesting pair of characters to interact; they’re both the youngest siblings (of a sort in Ryne’s case), they’re both intensely protective of the people they care about, and they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt those they love even if it were absolutely necessary until someone else confirmed that this was the only way. There’s also that loss of family (Azdaja missing, Ratatoskr/Bahamut/Nidhogg dead; the whole abandoned timeline) that would have them interact in a neat way too, they’re quite similar to each other.

Unukalhai and Zero. She’s effectively everything he was said to be and they both failed. There’d be an interesting dynamic between them because of that—even if getting Zero in on the plot would be rather hard. Unukalhai would definitely try and sympathise with Zenos’s voidsent and maybe try to get them to abandon their master, and through that realise that she might not be there entirely willingly.

But overall, the hardest character to implement would be the Meteia. There’s eight main characters and there’s eight different opinions on this mess, ranging from intensely sympathetic and willing to rebuild burnt bridges (Ryne, Meteor, Hyth Shade, Elidibus if he regains his memories before Ultima Thule), apathetic despite how high the stakes are (Unukalhai, Elidibus if he doesn’t regain his memories), different levels of less sympathetic (Lahabrea, Emet-Selch), and the option where G’raha has such intense issues with being not overly sympathetic and having no sympathy at all that his understanding of the situation is wildly out of control until the very end.

Having worked with them as both individuals and as a hivemind in a couple writing exercises, I honestly would have had a Meteion for every main character, and give all eight of them a proper story on top of what’s already going on there. Narrative foils that lead both parties to Ultima Thule.

Putting that one lightly: that would’ve been a goddamn motherfucking nightmare to write. Fun, but a nightmare.

And that's a lot coming out of Ms Almost Half a Million Words Across Six Years.

[entityart]

Right, so the next chapter of Solver King N is taking its time to work its way out of my brain, so in the meantime you guys get a deleted scene of N transforming with some fun word shenanigans.

N’s neck gave a snapping noise as his head rotated to face the group.

“Oh! You’re finally here! Wonderful!”

He tilted his head, a smile on his face.

“A shame, though. I wanted more time alone with Uzi.”

The rest of his body twisted towards them as he stepped off the platform, hands behind his back.

He looked the same as when they first touched down, his black bomber jacket pressed smooth without a tear in sight, his hat covered in small pins, and not a single wound on his body.

“Step aside.”

J’s voice was harsh over the humming of power cores echoing throughout the abandoned chapel.

“Sorry, no can do.”

N walked forward, his smile filled with razor-sharp teeth that reflected J’s face. One arm came out besides him, hand pulled back, prepped to reveal a weapon.

That was all the excuse she needed.

A near-imperceptible nod had Khan flinging an EMP grenade underhand. N startled, his hands catching the explosive moments before blue light washed over him, his visor flickering to nothingness.

“Now!”

They rushed forward, splitting into two groups. One ran towards where Uzi lay, while the other moved to disable N. J’s limbs unfolded, claws lunging forward to decapitate the Solver-infested drone.

Moments before impact,

Everything stopped.

N’s visor showed a hexagonal symbol surrounded by a larger circle, with parts of it cut out.

They SELECTed themselves, before an off-color green EDIT caused his metal casing to wriggle.

Reality resumed its proper course as a wave of force slammed everyone into the surrounding walls and pillars. N’s smile

t                        e w        s           i                  d,                        t                                                 before the metal casing buckled and oil spilled out through a gaping hole in his torso. His arms crumpled inward as his body slouched forward, heavy breathing audible with the acoustics of the chapel. The right half of his visor cracked inward, before a human hand crawled its way out of the injury, now leaking green-yellow pus. Each finger burst open, yellow eyes visibly shining through viscera that dripped onto the floor. A lattice of metal and flesh spread out from the wound on his chest, piercing the ground and lifting him up to lay limp like a rag doll. The scent of blood sent J’s sensors on high alert, but she watched frozen as one leg snapp                  ed in two, the thigh unfurling to let sharp claws atop metal struts slam into the surrounding walls and sever the latticework. Instead of continuing to spread down, it folded back in on itsel                                                                         f, before beginning to bloat as dripping flesh filled the sac. N’s head jerked, before falling forward off his body as his neck lengthened, stopping to sway right above the floor. Laughter came from several spots along his body, making its way out his mouth, chest, and leg, layering over itself in triplicate.

The other arm flickered before splitting once, twice, three times at the elbow, each hand pulling its way out tipped with something different – a chainsaw, a cutter, and a bleeding heart. As the blood touched the stone ground, it spread like a river towards where everyone lay. The chainsaw revved, before N jerked it towards the mass that surrounded his chest. It burst, squelching as it unfolded into writhing tendrils that vio      tly     s                              len       la hed out, with a larger pair covered with feelers reaching out to wrap around Uzi.

[downbad4yoongi]

Weighted Desires

Written as a part of @bangtanwritershq September Big Boys Flash Fiction event.

💪🏽pairing: Namjoon x Jungkook

💪🏽au/genre: non-idol au, S2L, gym smut

💪🏽rating: M

💪🏽wc: 1,427

⚠️ explicit sexual content

Summary: Not even Kim Namjoon can resist the bare expanse of Jungkook's bare back.

The thrumming rhythm of the bass resonates through Namjoon, keeping the beat as his feet slap the rotating belt underneath him. The sheen of sweat coating his golden skin glistens in the harsh fluorescent lighting of his local gym. He’s been running for thirty minutes now; he can feel the burn in the muscles of his thighs and the adrenaline coursing through his system with every pump of his arms – he’s hit his runner’s high. 

That peak of euphoria, usually the highlight of his cardio routine, is overshadowed by a broad expanse of tan skin on display in the wall-to-wall mirrors in front of him. Namjoon has been a member of this gym for years and is very familiar with the other gym-goers. In fact, he would consider many of them friendly acquaintances.

With his bulging, tattooed arms and rippling abs, this bare-chested man is a stranger. There is something about not knowing who the new muscle bunny is that has rooted an incessant inquiry in his brain. Using the mirror, Namjoon’s eyes track the other man’s movements through the gym, following his rigorous workout routine. Who is he?

Namjoon switches his grueling pace into cool-down mode, swiping at the sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes stay glued on the man as he easily completes repetitions of pull-ups. He can’t help but bite his lip as he watches the man’s muscles clench and retract with the steady dipping motion. 

As Namjoon steps off the treadmill, the mystery man hops down from the pull-up bar and moves to the bench press. Seeing his in, Namjoon hurries over.

“Oh, hey. Do you need a spotter?”

Large brown eyes under a fringe of bangs connect with his own. Namjoon can feel the weight of that chocolate gaze meander down his body to take in the soaked white tank top clinging to his own defined chest before taking in the tight, black running shorts clinging to his thick thighs. The wandering eyes snap back to his, and Namjoon hopes he’s not imagining the glint of interest in the other man’s gaze.

With a sharp clearing of his throat, the stranger’s warm voice wraps around Namjoon. “Um, are you sure?” Maybe a little too eagerly, Namjoon’s head bobs in affirmation. “Okay, thanks, man.”

“It’s no problem. I was finished with my workout anyway.” Maneuvering around to stand behind the barbell, Namjoon offers his name in hopes of learning who the stranger is.

Racking one side of the barbell, the other man smiles, “I’m Jungkook. I moved here recently.”

“Welcome to the area! I’ve lived around here for a few years now.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up, “Maybe you could show me around sometime. Help me get familiar with the area.”

“Yeah, I’d love to show you some things.”

The corner of Jungkook’s lips quirk upward as he settles on the weight bench and lays back. This new angle shows off the perfect swell of Namjoon’s chest under the tight, damp fabric. Several beats pass before Namjoon clears his throat, getting the other man’s attention. 

Jungkook takes his time, raising his eyes to Namjoon’s face, “Well, we can start tonight if you’re free.”

“For you, I can be.” Namjoon lets his own gaze blatantly run down Jungkook’s frame. 

Watching Jungkook bench press a sizeable amount of weight did nothing to cool Namjoon’s desire to know the man. By the end of Jungkook’s set, they’re the only ones left at the private, members-only gym, and now his adrenaline is pumping for an entirely different reason. He can’t stop thinking about seeing the other man laid out before him in a completely different way.

The sharp clank of metal jolts him out of his daydream of being the cause of Jungkook’s sweat and brings him back to the present. Namjoon can’t help but ogle the play of muscles rippling as Jungkook shifts into a seated position, straddling the bench. He doesn’t bother pretending to be looking elsewhere when Jungkook looks back at him.

“So where to?” Jungkook questions as he stands and turns toward the taller man.

Namjoon can feel the weight of those innocuous words pull on the tension between them. He lets a few responses roll around his brain before settling on, “Showers?”

A grunt of air expels from Namjoon as his back collides with the sides of the lockers, lips locked with Jungkook’s. Jungkook sucks the larger man’s lower lip into his mouth, teeth worrying at the plump flesh. Namjoon moans deep, the sound resonating through his chest.

Namjoon pushes off the lockers as they kiss desperately, stumbling further into the locker room. They collide with a wooden bench, the wood pressing into the back of Jungkook’s thighs as their tongues duel for dominance. Namjoon uses the distraction to press Jungkook back until he falls back onto the bench.

Jungkook moves one arm above his head to stabilize himself on the narrow bench. Jungkook is not ignorant of how his muscles bulge and become defined under the weighted gaze of the other man. 

The wanton display spurs Namjoon into action, and he rips his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Jungkook bites his lip, unable to handle the strong pull deep in his gut as he hardens even further. 

Namjoon grips the smaller man’s hips as he lowers on top of him, mouthing at the vast expanse of exposed collarbone. Sliding his hands upward, his thumbs tease at Jungkook’s nipples. His hands tighten, digging into the other’s ribs as Jungkook jolts from the stimulation.

Jungkook’s hips shift upward, grinding their hips together. Echoing moans ricochet around them as they get lost in the sensation of their covered turgid cocks rubbing against each other. 

Namjoon breaks first, his long fingers yanking down the shorts and briefs of the muscular man underneath him. He can’t stifle the groan of want that escapes him as Jungkook’s thick length is exposed, pulsing and flushed to the air. Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to have his own gym shorts follow and join the pile of laundry next to them.

Namjoon takes both of their cocks in his large fist as his other hand moves to cup the back of Jungkook’s head. The caring touch allows Jungkook to lounge back and get lost in the pleasure washing over him as their cocks are stroked in tandem. His own hands soon scramble to hold on as Namjoon moves from fisting their lengths to prodding at his hole. 

It’s with jumbled directions from Jungkook that Namjoon is able to scour Jungkook’s gym bag to find a stored pack of lube. Quickly slathering two fingers, he warms them before easing into Jungkook with the first. Mouthing at his neck, Namjoon takes his time working Jungkook open.

Within minutes, Jungkook is a writhing mess beneath him as Namjoon’s fingers work him open–his cock making a mess of his abs as he tries to hold on for dear life, his brain flooded with endorphins with each thick push of the larger man’s fingers inside of him.

Jungkook’s needy whimper, as Namjoon’s fingers vacate him, is quickly cut off when they are replaced with the thick push of Namjoon’s cock into his wet hole. Leaning over him, his hands bracing on the bench on either side of Jungkook’s head, Namjoon pushes inside and starts a relentless rhythm. 

The uncomfortableness of the hardwood bench fades into the background as Namjoon’s thick cock works Jungkook open around him. Their bodies moving together is loud and echoes around the empty locker room. Jungkook can feel himself approaching his end as Namjoon continues to plow his tight hole. 

Tears leak from Jungkook’s eyes as Namjoon finds his prostate and concentrates his movements on it. Jungkook struggles to stay on the narrow bench as he messily falls apart underneath Namjoon, his cock jerking and spilling across his own chiseled abs. 

With a grimace, Namjoon grips Jungkook tighter as he snaps his hips faster and chases his own high. Nails and joints dig into him, sending Namjoon over that final edge, and he releases his pent-up pleasure into the tight, pulsing hold of Jungkook.

Namjoon collapses, his body relaxing as his climax leaves him. Their heaving chests press together as they both regain their senses. The ringing silence radiates around them as they come down from their distinctive highs. Being mindful of their precarious position, Namjoon starts to move before he wants to and withdraws from Jungkook’s wet heat.

Neither is making eye contact right away. To break the post-coital awkwardness, Namjoon offers, “So these are the showers.”

[quinloki]

Me when I saw you posted the last chapter

Now I’m like, no thoughts head empty except for the uh… ya know 👀👀

Between the tongue and the fire following scratches thing, idk which is gonna take up more real estate in my brain

Once again thank you Quin for solidifying Marco as my blorbo and writing such a good story for him 🫡🥰

I reread magic trick a lot, but I suspect that now that this is done it’ll get a good reread here and there (or at least… certain parts >>)

XD thank you!

I think it really came out with a good balance of cute, sexy, a little angsty and a *lot* of adorable.

I want (and need) to show love to other titles and blorbos, but there’s definitely going to be more.

Sabo’s fic will debut on his birthday cause why not, and in the mean time I want to get as many Kid and Law titles updated that i can. With Birds done I’m going to try an actual schedule - not for updates, sadly, but just which title on which day, so I have something definitive in mind when I start writing, vs losing time trying to decide XD

There’s Between the Three of Us as well, which includes Marco, but might be put on a back burner for a bit, or I might work it away from being a poly-title to just a Marco reader (my apologies to any Shanks fans, but the more people hate on Kid the more I’m not vibing Shanks, even when they aren’t comparing them. It’s a flaw, but I can’t seem to shake it.)

I’m trying really hard not to dive into the Host Club AU or anything else until I can wrap a few more open titles. If I can hover around 12 I can at least make a 2-week rotating schedule, and have half a chance of focusing.

I mean, it sounds big and it is a lot, but I’m enjoying it, so that keeps it from being daunting. Everyone always worries about my stress levels 🥰 but I’m not stressing 😘

I’m just going to be writing these stories until I’m Marco’s post time skip age xD (and beyond, let’s be fair.)

[dollivication]

hiiii im glad you liked my insane ramblings about guro and OH MY GOD you were so right w the ring finger thing im rotating that concept...i love pathetic men...

speaking of pathetic. kind of springboarding off of what one of the other anons said about Nero but only showing affection when u got them bleeding would make them do some loony shit. you hear hey babe watch this and then dantes intestines are spilling out bc thats the only way he can get your attention and he wants it soso bad. and like they COULD force you to pay attention to them but youre so cold and its so much easier this way because itll just heal later and it really doesn't even hurt that bad anymore? (that is the blood loss talking there are so many stains on the floor that are NOT coming out. perhaps not even just blood teehee)

or like. elbow deep in vergil's guts and hes trying so hard to pay attention when youre naming everything even tho you know hes not gonna be able to focus bc taking an interest in peoples hobbies helps you get closer right?? and really whats more intimate than someone having their hands all up in your organs, no one ELSE has ever touched him there! no one else knows him inside and out like this, its so romantic! especially if you do some freak shit like lick the blood off your hands bc now part of him is in you...utterly delusional i fear

okay last insane thought for now yk how in 3 dante takes a shot to the head like its nothing? imagine asking so nicely and sweetly if you can try it because you wanna see how itll heal and also all the gray matter spattering everywhere. youre not cleaning it up of course its his fault for making such a mess!! also not convinced theres actually brain in there like you are making your insides be on the outside because you want someone to look at you BE NORMAL!!! -☢️

WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLINH BECAUSE HOLYYYSHIY YU GET ME SO WELL HUGS YOU!!!! LIVE LAUGH LOVE DMC GORE.. cw!!1!1!

THEY ARE BOTH TWO ENDS OF THE FREAKY SPECTRUM AND I AM ABSOLUTELY HERE 4 IT!!! laik omgfgh.. vergil thinks there’s something soww poetic about quite literally giving himself up, all of him, for the person he loves most.

if you decide to laik… cut off his tongue and put it in a jar or just basically any other part of him,, he is going to be over the MOON!!! laik awhh, yu love him so much that you’re preserving a part of him <33 uhm!! please get help! Loony!!!!1!!!1

WHEREAS DANTE IS LAIK.. INITIATING IT!!! comes up to yu laik a kid showing off a bug like hey check out this cool gash you can see my bone!! make it worse pretty please??? you should totally skin me ahahaha…!! LIKE STOP OT YOU CREATURE‼️‼️ JES SO NASTAY he loves the sting methinks..

this is like mary jane 4 him he gets high off this and harder than ever before!!! the only downside for the both of them is that your fascination is often very short-lived… (◞‸◟)

vergil is more likely to wait around until you decide to get hit by another urge to ‘study’ him whereas dante is ALLLWAYS trying to appeal to you. hey, you’ve looked at my ribcage already, look at my brain!! or what about my eye?? YUCK

THE LAST BIT OH MY GODH!!!! it always ends the same! you losing interest after a bit of observing, leaving them to pick up the foul, iron scented mess. auwaaa.. for a split second they probably realize the fucked up situation you’re both in, which i reckon causes them to spiral a bit—before they remember how happy you looked to be squeezing their insides!!…

oh well nobody ever said being together should be a healthy thing! they’ll clean the blood up later,, right now they just need a biiiig nap<3 and the cycle will repeat!!! they can’t wait!

imsosillyimsosillyimsosillyimso

[eyesore-boi]

Traptains

We thought we could rely on the captain, but what about four more of them?

........Okay a whole bunch of context below if you're interested-

OKAY- SO- CONTEXT- A little less than a month after ISWM Part 2 came out, me and my friends started a BIG OL' RP surrounding it where our personas/captainsonas met up and just kinda...went through the broken universe to try and fix it again, but this time we started involving meeting up with our own OC's in their universes, dragging along some of the Markiplier egos (Hee Hoo, Stan the Water Man, Yancy, and Old Man Mark, if you're curious), getting chased down by Actor as the main baddie so that's fun, expanding more of our own backstories and l o r e, and just sO MUCH DAMN ANGST HOLY FUCK THESE GUYS NEED T H E R A P Y -

And if you're wondering why two of the captains are demons and ones has a full on eyeball for a head (me) and how that still makes sense for the lore of the universe......um-

Also also, if you're wondering why it's called "Traptains", it's cause we all work on the Markiplier Webcomic "Trapped" (go read it now it's great) and we RP it o n the actual server, so when we were tryna to think of a name for it, my big brain saw Trapped, saw that ee were captains, and just kinda....smashed them together....perfect-

But yeah, this RP has s t i l l been going and it's gonna be almost a year old which is interesting, so, wanting to do something for it (and running on good ol' a r t b l o c k -) I decided to do this, and this is actually a redraw from when we first ever started! Here's the OG (also a person got added in the new one cause they came in late jdkabdlsbsh-):

But yeah! Decided to post it here since haven't posted anything in a while, and actually kinda really proud of this one, especially seeing all the improvement, so hope ya guys like it too with these deeply traumatized captains! :]

oH! Speaking of them, lemme tag 'em so you can show support for them >:]]

@athenaistrapped @iam-unoriginal @reiquetzal @bubblegumberry19 (on Instagram)

Anyhoo, I'm gonna rotate this around in my head some more for a few more hours cause lemme tell you this RP has given us brainrot you would not fucking b e l i e v e -

[animehouse-moe]

Undead Girl Murder Farce Episode 12: Where The River's Flow Changes

Certainly not the Murder Farce episode I was expecting, but I'll be damned if it hasn't set the stage for one of my most anticipated episodes so far this year. All sorts of little bits and pieces that leave the mystery on the very cusp of being solved, while teasing a veritable feast of action and matchups to close out the season. There's hardly any time to waste so I'll get on to the point.

Well, to start. Victor saves Tsugaru and Aya. Not anything special, but it's just allowing viewers to get acquainted with his character. Not-so-shockingly, Victor is - in a sense- a pacifist. He has no problem throwing down, but he won't kill. Saving Tsugaru and Aya is obvious, but I also like how when he lies down to pass the time, he briefly looks up at some butterflies or moths before dozing off.

Moving on to the episode itself, a very interesting thing. Very, very interesting indeed. We open with seeing a casket being carried through the werewolf's village. A casket that most likely holds Nora within.

On its own, it's nothing special, but later in the episode we find another casket... that contains nothing. Rather, it's on the side of the road that Louise's body is discovered.

Together, the pair pose the question of 'why'. Was was it just now that Louise's body was discovered. What reason would there be with its positioning. Well, that's the interesting answer that the episode poses, so I'll come back to it when we get there.

Anyways, we move onwards. Tsugaru and Aya are taken to where Shizuku's being held that they can discuss things. Just the usual, some exposition and character acting and whatnot. What I like more than that is the visuals. Shizuku is in cage because she's forced to be. The door is closed and she can't leave. Meanwhile, Tsugaru meanders into a cage with its door open and lazes about. Just a clever bit of character acting and visuals to show the disparity in how the pair live their respective lives.

Continuing to press onwards, we find more cool stuff. Both in terms of story and visuals. Really liked this cut that showed a 2D rotating object, and the overhead view. Great work all around to make the most of literally walking in a circle.

And this is where they mystery really kicks off. We confirm that it's Gustav's gun that's been the murder weapon of choice for these attacks.

Keeping it going, we get an even weirder reveal. Moths. These little guys are interesting, and arguably, important. So, a little info now, a bit more later.

Why was Nora damp/wet despite being murdered on a dry day? Why were the girls murdered on rainy days? How does Louise differ from all of this?

The moths. Any travel between the underground passage and aboveground causes people to be covered in moth scales. So, if you don't want to leave any hints or trails, they've got to be washed away.

Just a bit later, Aya is talking to Tsugaru about the blood splatter in a certain area in the cave.

Put two and two together, and what do you get? The way that Louise is discovered, and the way that this blood pattern came to be, they tell the story we're all thinking. Louise wasn't killed by a werewolf, but a gun. But the point still stands, why. I'm a fraction of a sliver of information away from putting it together, but I can't find what I need.

Regardless of my inability to solve the case, we get more info. Someone, something has been living in this cave, spending time there. On the wall "probation" is written above what Aya estimates at 550 tallies. There's certainly something being told with the affectations that litter the space, but I can't put them together.

Regardless of that though, I like this shot for two reasons.

1: Foreground obstruction that gives a feel of three dimensional space

2: Tsuguaru's head isn't in frame, but Aya's is. The point driven home is that Tsugaru is Aya's body, while Aya is Tsguaru's brain. Fun little detail for sure.

And then, of course, there's Alma, whos' now confirmed to be dead, but in a way that differs from the other two. One human girl dead, one werewolf girl dead, and one werewolf masquerading as a human dead. All of them with blonde hair. I don't quite have an answer for this either, but it certainly must play into the mystery at large.

Alright, lets speed things along then, shall we? Humans vs werewolves. Is it the end goal of Jutte? Driven out of the werewolf village with her mother, hunted down like animals by humans. Neither side showing affection to the girl forsaken by both. Could she really be doing this to get the two villages to annihilate the village? It's possible, and I guess we'll find out in the next episode, but I wanted to share this image.

A moon died orange, almost glowing as if it were on fire. An intentional mixture of the two aspects that have defined each village so far.

So, like I said, village vs village. An all out brawl spurred on by the "insurance" brokers that brought the humans down to the werewolf village. I think it's a little bit wonky, but surprisingly well animated. The ideas are creative, the actual animation itself is solid, but the boards and movement itself can certainly be odd. Shows a lot of ambition, and even the ability to back it up, but not the experience necessary to execute on it. Certainly has my hopes up for the finale episode though.

Alright, my last piece, more of that moth stuff. It seems like those moths might have been able to have an affect on the humans. Not a guarantee by any means, but just feels like something that might be possible considering how much effort's gone into showing those scales on them.

Okay I lied, this is the last piece. I'm really unsure now of the point of this blur. Before it was all on the noses of characters, but in this cut it's shown to effect the right side of Vera's body?

All in all, the stage has been set in wonderful fashion. Certainly a better episode than the prior, but still withholding all of its cards so that it can play them all in one go next week. A mountain of details and information that's just waiting on that final piece to complete itself, and a mountain of kickass and exciting fights waiting. I absolutely can't wait to see what comes of it.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

Hi, I'm back, I have been rotating chapter 3 in my head all day.

...I'm Yours by Alessia Cara is Jam in this chapter to me...

Ooooooooooo another song to listen to awawawawwawa.

And damnit, the lyrics are perfect now I have to do a whole analysis on how they link up to Sorry it's locked lmao /nm

Andddd, this has turned out way too long. As always I swear. It's a whole damn essay, I'm so sorry, this fic has rotted my brain and I can't not babble everything I have about it. So:

SO lyrics.

Some nerve you have To break up my lonely And tell me you want me How dare you march into my heart Oh how rude of you To ruin my miserable And tell me I'm beautiful 'Cause I wasn't looking for love no

Obviously, Jay starts out reeeeeaaaaaally not wanting to fall in love again, not wanting to fall in love with Tim because of everything that happened with Alex. But he's also aware that he and Tim are kinda dancing around each other and that Tim is actively, though quietly, trying to make Jay realise that he likes him. Obviously Jay's a traumatised dumbass so to begin with didn't realise Tim actually liked him, and just thought it was a purely sexual thing, like what he had with Alex. Then he realised it was more than that and that scared him so he decided he wouldn't let himself get close with Tim in that way for fear of getting hurt.

Then, obviously, the "ruin my miserable and tell me I'm beautiful" bit is when Tim finally decided to say fuck it and tell Jay he likes him because Jesus Christ this man is either incredibly oblivious or purposefully dense. (it's a bit of both). The "how rude" part to me is about Jay feeling like Tim was lying when he said he likes how Jay looks, to make him feel better so that it'd hurt even more when Tim leaves him.

Nobody asked you to get me attached to you In fact you tricked me And I wasn't trying to fall in love But boy you pushed me

Basically about Jay feeling kind of like it's Tim's fault that he fell for him, like, not in a malicious way, just Jay kind of feeling perturbed by the fact that even given their situation Tim was and is still willing to try and make it work, to be kind and gentle with Jay. I don't know how to explain it, like, Tim flirting overtly, and also just generally being quietly caring and stuff, looking after Jay when he was out of it, encouraging him to get help too etc.

Jay almost feels betrayed by the fact that he's fallen in love again. Betrayed by himself, betrayed by Tim, even though he doesn't understand why he feels betrayed by Tim. It's just one of those muddled up feelings you get sometimes when your brain is panicking and just throwing out every thought and feeling to try and rationalise it. The actual reasoning is that Jay's subconsciously kinda assuming that Tim knows everything he knows (even though logically he knows he can't) about what happened with Alex. Which means that the fact that Tim is being so kind and caring and kinda flirting etc, makes Jay's brain feel like Tim's ignoring the fact that Jay doesn't want to fall in love again. Even though logically he knows Tim can't know he doesn't want to fall in love again. Y'know?

Tim's been quietly, gently, respectfully, pushing Jay's boundaries, like with the walking around shirtless etc. If Jay asked him to stop, even slightly insinuated he was uncomfortable with it externally, he'd tone it all the way back or stop completely, whatever Jay needs. But it's like that thing of challenging your behaviours so you can get over them. Tim's challenging Jay's fear of intimacy and commitment, but still trying to let Jay be the one to make that first move. (Tho eventually he does kinda give him a little nudge in the right direction, because jesus Jay is emotionally constipated)

You know that video of a dam being opened for the first time in ages? And it, like, starts off slow and there's sooooooo much much and silt and rubble, and then it gets faster and faster until it's just power washing the valley thing it's in? That's Jay's emotions. Nothing nothing nothing EVERYTHING! TAKE COVER!!! That's what happened when he just broke down and blurted everything out to Tim in chapter 3.

So all that I'm asking Is that you handle me with caution 'Cause I don't give myself often But I guess I'll try today

This bit is kind of more about chapter 4 in my mind than chapter 3, though it still works for chapter 3 anyway, just not quite as much. Jay is tentatively trusting Tim with his mental health, his relationship issues, (eventually his issues around sex as well, because he definitely does have some of those lmao, he can't not in my idea of how the stuff with Alex has affected him).

In chapter 3 Jay tells Tim most of what happened with Alex, all the way from uni to two years ago when they were alone together last, it's mostly a breakdown and then Jay going back in and clarifying what got lost in the crying, but a lot of it, when he's clarifying it all, is him asking Tim not to do what Alex did. Does he tell Tim the full truth about what happened with Alex, no, he dilutes it a shit tonne to make sure Tim doesn't think any of it is Alex's fault.

But Tim can kind of tell there's things jay is holding back.

He knows Jay is asking him to "handle him with caution" he just doesn't know how to do that because Jay isn't telling him everything and he knows that. Even before they kiss, he can tell this is Jay's way of putting little feelers out to see whether Tim's going to hurt him. Then, once he starts to trust that Tim won't hurt him, they kiss and Jay is kind of thinking "hey, maybe this could work, maybe I can try, even though through all the time he's been without Alex (between uni and 2 years ago, then between 2 years ago and now) he hasn't really managed to "give himself" very often, because his brain always went back to Alex. He was kind of dependent of Alex in a way?

Is that the right word? I don't think that's the right word, but the thesaurus isn't giving me a better one. Reliant? Like, he was reliant on Alex for his own feelings of self worth, kinda? And then 2 years ago Alex well and truly crushed what was left of that lmao.

'Cause I've had my heart Broken before And I promised I would never Let me hurt anymore

Chorus 1.

Pretty simple this one. Alex broke Jay's heart, ripped it and his self esteem and self worth and everything, to absolute shreds and then jumped up and down on the pieces, just to make sure Jay's mental health was well absolutely pulverised.

(He did it for the same reason he killed people, to save them. If he could make Jay hate him enough for Jay to stop investigating and forget everything that happened he could keep him safe. I NEEEEEEED people to know that Alex is just soooooo morally grey and mentally fucked up by the Operator in this, just like he is in the actual series. He genuinely loved and cared about Jay, it's just that that love got twisted and warped by the Operator. Then back in uni he was downright terrified of the fact that he was queer, so he jumped at the opportunity Amy provided, because he was Bi and Scared and she was perfect. I 100% stand by the fact that he definitely talked to Amy about what he and Jay had had and she helped him with it, helped him deal with the internalised shit... and also gave him an absolute earful about how he'd treated Jay in the end and how he needed to go and apologise to him —Alex never did, he was too scared of what Jay would think for that, and by the time he was ready to apologise, they'd lost touch. Then everything with the Operator started so he couldn't anyway—)

Tangent over lmao, uh, after Alex, Jay made a promise to himself to not fall for another unobtainable man, another person who just wanted him for sex, another person in general. He was too scared, and with all the stuff with the Operator there was no way in hell that he'd be able to heal from all the stuff with Alex, so if he wanted to start dating again or anything it'd have to be after all the Eldrich horror shit had ended. If he was still alive by then.

But I tore down my walls And opened my doors And made room for one So baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours But I tore down my walls And opened my doors And made room for one So baby I'm yours

Chorus 2.

This is definitely chapter 4 (and the possible oneshot I have planned for getting to write some more smut for Jam) where Jay finally tells Tim everything (not technically everything everything, but, like, everything about what happened with Alex, he's still gonna be a lil idiot and keep his emotions about it locked up tight, but y'know, he's getting there I guess)

He tells Tim about the kiss, and that finally kind of "tears down the walls" and "opens the door" etc for them to actually start sort of working towards a real relationship. They definitely have a longgggggggg way to go, but it's a start. It allows Jay to start genuinely trusting that Tim won't hurt him, allows him to genuinely trust that Tim likes and cares for him etc. It's just that kind of thing that lets them feel a little safer in each other than that would have otherwise.

I think specifically the "I tore down my walls" bit, like, Jay did that himself. Tim didn't barge in and tear those walls down, Jay started dismantling them himself, sure he had Tim's help, but it was still his decision to do it. Y'know?

Is it going to last forever? No.

Are the events of MH gonna happen anyway and tear them apart just like in the series, make them stop trusting each other etc? Absolutely. Tho I don't think I'm gonna go into that in chapter 4, that'll mostly be a happy ending for them (tho rest assured there'll definitely be a bit of angst in it, because who do you think I am?)

But yeah. "Baby I'm yours" Jay finally feeling like he's able to fully give himself to someone, sexually, romantically, everything, whereas with Alex it was only ever sexually. He didn't get his other, emotional, needs met through that relationship, he will with Tim. Even though Tim definitely doesn't really know what he's doing either. He has more of an idea than Jay though, even if he's probably only really able to express it/talk about it in a kinda clinical way.

(Honestly I feel like Tim would really struggle with not being super clinical in how he talks about emotions and stuff, like, sure, he doesn't sound exactly like a doctor necessarily, doesn't use scientific words, but given his childhood in the hospital, he'd definitely speak in a way that's very detached from what he's feeling. Like he's trying too hard to be rational and logical rather than looking at it as a whole, in a realistic way. Because if you completely ignore the emotional side of something, you can't be rational about it because you're entirely ignoring a whole part of what's happening. That's what Tim does. He removes himself from the situation emotionally, even with Jay —though I'd say that he either hides his detachment from everything better with Jay, or is slightly, slightly, more attached and in the moment and letting himself experience his feelings, with Jay—)

I'm mad at you For being so cute And changing my mood And altering my rude

This bit's also pretty self explanatory I guess, Jay being kind of, not actually angry at Tim, but just kinda disgruntled at how easy it feels like it was for him to help Jay to trust him. He's mad that he finds Tim cute, attractive, kind, caring, whatever. He's mad at how easy it feels like it was for Tim to help him change his opinion towards relationships etc. Cos like, for Jay I feel like it kind of all happened in the background for most of it, like he was subconsciously working through some of his shit about Alex, and then he gets to maybe a few months before chapter three and suddenly he's falling head over heels.

Tim fell first and fell longer, Jay fell harder and faster, y'know?

Do they both like each other the same amount? Yeah just about, Jay's probably a bit more obsessive with it, but because it's Tim this time he'll be able to keep Jay in check and keep him from becoming viciously dependent on interactions with him in order to inform his mood for the day. Y'know? Does that make sense? Like when every part of your mental stability completely hinges on your interactions with another person and if you think anything is wrong it sends you absolutely spiralling? Had a relationship like that once lmao, not fun. Anyway uh

What's wrong with you You make me sick For being so perfect What did I do What can I do, oh

Just more of Jay being lightheartedly pissed that Tim is so "perfect".

Honestly I feel like if I wanted to I could take these two in a toxic direction too, with Jay putting Tim on a pedestal and obsessing over the fact that he's "perfect." Y'know? Because compared to the end of Jaylex's relationship, the start of Jam's relationship would be pretty damn healthy. But comparing ends to beginnings isn't really an accurate comparison, y'know? Anyway, to begin with, Jay putting Tim on a pedestal would lead to him not being able to see Tim as ever having done anything wrong, but once all the small things pile up, or Tim fucks up in a big enough way, it could send Jay absolutely crashing down in an incredibly destructive spiral, because suddenly Tim's not "perfect" anymore, which means he must be just like Alex, which means he must be doing this maliciously, which could lead to allllll the pent up anger from across both relationships getting let out all at once, all at Tim, which would not be good for either of them.

(because Tim, unfortunately, is gonna be very pissed at Alex when he finds out about the kiss, and ends up managing to convince Jay to see Alex the exact opposite to how he currently does. So instead of Jay insisting none of it was Alex's fault, he'll believe that everything was Alex's fault and that he did it all maliciously, rather than what actually happened, which is that Alex's sense of reality and what would keep the people he cared about safe was extremely warped and he genuinely believed he was doing what's right. He was trying to save Jay. —I wanna write Alex's pov of after Jay leaves in chapter 2 at some point so I can kinda show both sides so it's more clear that no one but the Operator is really to blame.—)

I don't think I'll do that, but honestly who knows, it could be interesting to think about. More angst lmao.

And I wasn't trying To melt this heart of iron But the way you hold me Makes the old me pass away

Again, Jay just sort of lightheartedly lamenting the fact that he fell in love without trying to. He wasn't trying to lower his walls, but it just sort of happened because Tim genuinely made him feel safe. Or safe emotionally. Physically? While they're being hunted and haunted? Nah, not possible really. But emotionally, yeah, Jay feels safe with Tim.

And of course, Tim is very free with cuddles and kisses and gentle, innocent touches, which Jay never really got with Alex unless it was under the guise of aftercare, so that's chipping away at the very old, very rusted on distrust of affection and romance etc. The way Tim holds him makes him feel so different to how he felt when Alex held him.

And I would be lying If I said I wasn't scared to fall again But if you promise me you'll catch me Then it's okay

Just Jay talking about his fear of falling in love again, simple simple. Him trusting that Tim will catch him, won't let him get hurt as he falls. Maybe not even that, maybe not even trust that Tim will catch him, more just that Tim has promised he will, so that on its own is enough for Jay, because with Alex the idea of them ever actually dating was always very quickly shut down because Alex was scared.

Chorus 1 and 2 again

Oh I hate that I Spend my days just wasting time Day dreaming 'til I see you again I'm not used to this

Very much kinda deviating from the exact lyrics of the song here, but to me this bit kind of could be about those months where Jay was all fucked up after they ran into the Operator at Alex's old house. He feels like they wasted time, that he wasted time daydreaming about Tim (because from what he remembers of that morning it seems like Tim was being extra caring towards him, which, unsurprisingly, he kinda daydreamed about and stuff, idk) but like, he's just not used to being taken care of like that, being taken care of like Tim clearly has. He saw it in the entries, he saw it when he woke up and Tim didn't realise he wasn't all fucked up anymore.

Oh I used to be so used to boys just using me For you to be you to me Feels new to me

Lmao well damn. Uh. Self explanatory. Very much self explanatory. Alex was never fully himself with Jay, because of all his internalised bullshit, and Jay honestly doesn't know what was real or not with Alex. Was Alex being nice to him two years ago the real Alex? Or was Alex yelling at him and insulting him and scaring him in the kitchen the real Alex? He doesn't know. Whereas with Tim it feels a lot more straightforward. He feels like he can tell what's real and what's not with Tim. And he feels like he hasn't seen the 'not real' part yet, and hopes he never will.

Though I guess that could be a little dangerous if Tim was being manipulative, because Jay's so caught up in the whole "the first thing Tim did to show him he likes him is the last thing Alex tried" that he wouldn't even realise if that kiss from Tim had purely been done to cause just this. A complete dumbfounded-ness in Jay because he was shown a bit of "genuine" affection straight off the bat. That's not what's happening. Tim just actually likes him and wants to date him etc. But ooooo the evil that it could be if I wanted to make all of Jay's lil love interests into toxic ones. Tho I guess he's a lil toxic too, so.

'Cause I usually cheer for the bad side Love under a bad sign So it makes me mad I'm Falling again Falling again

Self explanatory. Or I guess explained by everything else I've already said, because jesus this is so long and I do not need to reiterate the same thoughts again

Chorus 2 again.

Honestly if you read all of this shit, damn, because why did I write this much? It's a freaking essay lmao. I don't care tho because this fic has eaten my brain and I will rant about it for hours if I can. I love it so much. I get to put so much of myself into both Jay and Tim and awawawawawwawawawawwawawawa

[diamondangelkitten]

Polyam Week Day 6:

Celebration

Hades frets in front of the mirror. His hair is styled like it is every day and his robes are immaculate. Still he feels unprepared, though he knows logically that there is no reason to be. He hears a small laugh behind him and sees Emmeline sitting in Hyth’s lap, both watching him with fond expressions. He sighs.

“I’m sure you two see no issue with how I look either?”

Emmeline gets up and crosses over to Hades. She raises a hand to her chin and thoughtfully looks him over, before asking him to do a twirl. He sighs, but appreciates that she’s respecting his concern, and seems to actually be investigating. After completing two full rotations, he looks back at her. She smiles.

“You look perfectly put together Hades. As you always do. You will do great in the Convocation today accepting your role. I know this is an internal struggle, but you are ready.” 

Hyth gets up to join his partners and places a sweet kiss on Hades’ cheek, before turning to look at Emmeline.

“She’s right, you know. Besides, don’t you remember how panicked she was the day she accepted her nomination?”

Hades smiles, while Emmeline covers her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Oh, I don’t want to relive that. I almost fell over my robe 5 times getting to the chamber.”

“And didn’t you even teleport straight from here?”

She glares at Hyth’s words, but there’s no anger behind them. She sighs, shaking her head, but then smiles at Hades. 

“Hyth has the right of it. It truly is a monumental day, but Charon made the right choice in choosing you as his successor. No offense Hyth.” 

“None taken. He merely liked the idea of me, but for the true role of Emet-Selch, I was not the right candidate. However, look how much I have accomplished at the Bureau of the Architect.” Hyth smiles proudly. He had not taken any offense that Hades had gotten the role. Indeed, he was rather thrilled that his partner’s abilities were being utilized. Hades always wanted to contribute and he was always available for Emmeline or Hyth, but now he could find his own ways too.

Hades kisses Hyth on the cheek, before grabbing Emmeline’s hand. “At least you will be there, watching over me.” 

She smiles, “Every second, love.” She places a sweet kiss on his lips. “And don’t worry, there will be a small celebration there at the transition of roles, and then we can come back here and spend the rest of the evening however you like!!” She turns her head, “Our parents do want us to all catch up in a few days, so we can do some more celebrating then!” 

Hyth claps his hands together in delight, while Hades gives a gentle shrug. 

“If you all insist.”

A unanimous, “We do!” resounds around the bedroom, causing them all to burst out laughing. 

Emmeline dons her red mask. “I’ll see you there, Hades!” She gives him a kiss before turning to Hyth with a stern look on her face, “Make sure he leaves the house within 10 minutes.”

“I shall do!” He smiles and she smiles back, knowing that Hyth knows just how important this truly is to Hades. 

With a small wave, she teleports to the Capitol, leaving her lovers behind. 

Hyth places his hands on Hades’ shoulders and looks deep into his eyes. 

“I don’t need my soul sight to know that you’re worried about this, about the future. I know your brain is confused between all the what-ifs and all the things we have spoken about. Know this. Emmeline and I will always love you. Even if you two disagree on the Convocation, you’ve disagreed about theories as children. Emmy is eager to learn and will always show you respect. Just breathe and walk us through your thoughts. We will always do our best to support you.”

Hades nods, letting his best friend and partner’s words filter in and fill him up. He smiles and straightens. 

Hyth nods, “There he is. Go get this Hades.”

 He kisses him and then shoos him off. He had asked Echo for a copy of the commemoration and while she frowned and said that wasn’t really the norm, she’d ask the other thirteen’s permission. She knew they had gotten a copy of Azem’s ascension thanks to Venat, but she didn’t quite have the same sway. 

… 

“And do you, Hades, solemnly swear to uphold the values of the Convocation? To uphold the duties and responsibilities of the Third seat?” 

“I swear.”

Rapturous applause breaks out as Elidibus and Lahabrea swear him into his role. Charon is behind him, having relinquished his role and his mask. The next part is the most daunting. The destruction of Charon’s mask and the adoption of his sigil. It was only after this that Hades could then create his mask and don it, thereby taking his seat on the Convocation.

He looks to the Fourteenth seat and sees Emmeline, no Azem here, smiling at him. She winks at him and blows him a small kiss. He chuckles. They’re not meant to show favoritism or romance here, but everyone had known about the three of them, and the Convocation trusted each member of their trio to act to the best of their station. He straightened again. He would not let his loves down, nor those others who would place the fate of their beloved world in his hands. For Emmeline, for Hythlodaeus, for Eleanora, for Themis. For them, he would take on the seat of Emet-Selch and make sure that Amaurot gleamed in this age. 

As he brings his hand up and then down to cover his face, his sigil glows brightly and Emmeline’s smile grows even wider. She’s clapping, as is the rest of the Convocation, and with a snap of Hades’ fingers, he creates his mask. Donning it, he raises his face to look at Elidibus and Lahabrea. Elidibus smiles, “Take your seat, Emet-Selch.”

A short while later, the official part of the ceremony has come to an end and all the members are hanging around, conversing now. Echo had indeed been able to record the ceremony and had the crystal saved to give to Azem.

Azem had been deep in conversation with Loghrif and Mitron, but as the latter two take their leave and walk over to Altima and Deudalaphon, Azem waltzes up behind Emet-Selch. He could sense her presence, but her sultry line of “Welcome to the Convocation, Emet-Selch,” still sent a shiver down his spine. He looked at her and could see that she was indeed very turned on, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to teleport them both out of there. 

Apparently this was noticeable by everyone in the room, and so Nabriales and Phastarot bid him farewell. Azem nodded, “Have you made your way around the room?”

He nodded, “Indeed.” 

“Very well,” she smiles, then turns to the crowd. “Thank you, for such a lovely welcoming ceremony for the new Emet-Selch.” Everyone present gives a clap and cheer, though Charon had already left, saying he wanted to spend some time with his family.

Lahabrea smirks, “We look forward to seeing you bright and early tomorrow morning, Emet-Selch.” 

Emet-Selch turns to face Azem, who has never once left their apartment bright and early, save for when being bribed with waffles or other assorted pastries. 

She smiles at his raised brow, “Lahabrea’s joking. Well, maybe. They may have given up inviting me to early morning meetings ages ago.” 

Emet-Selch shakes his head, sighing, before turning back to Lahabrea, “I’ll be here when you need me.” 

Lahabrea nods, “Good. But… take care of your family too.” 

Emet-Selch is surprised at the man’s words, but one look at Azem confirms that it seems Lahabrea does indeed care more than he lets on. He nods once more at the Speaker before turning to all his new colleagues and bowing at them. Azem then grabs his hand and stops at Echo’s desk to grab the crystal. 

As they exit out into the hallway to teleport home, Emmeline smirks, “Hyth is going to love watching this.”

“You think?”

She leans in to whisper in his ear, “Oh yes, most imminent Emet-Selch.”

She laughs at his face and teleports home, Hades arriving just seconds after. He chases her around their home, only to be interrupted with Hythlodaeus teleporting himself back to enjoy the fun. Indeed, Hades was well congratulated by his lovers on his appointment, and as he fell asleep between Emmy and Hyth, he had to think to himself, “This really wasn’t a terrible celebration. Especially the one at home.”