#vexie writes fanfic

[vexie-chan]

Greetings: I don't know if I've asked this before. You are the person who wrote Algernon's Bouquet on AO3, correct?

If so, I was wondering if you would allow the creation of a semi sequel. I have a concept of Amelia, Caboose's fiance, trying to find him, and I was wondering if you would allow this to be posted. I can share with you what I have so far, I wanted your permission before I proceeded any further. Thanks, have a good day!

Go for it! Just link back to the original!

It's so wild that you have that concept...that's actually where that fic started, but didn't quite work out right.

Happy writing!

[redvexillum]

Anyone else ever just unleash a vomit of words when you're feeling insecure about writing a canon character? Like, "Here, have all the adjectives, extra inner monologues, and a side of unnecessary backstory—please don't notice they're acting like a completely different person!" No? Just me? Cool, cool. Carry on.

[vex-bittys]

Bittybones Chapter 8: Organics and Botanicals (part 3)

I hopped out of bed the next morning with all the vigor of a person who has just woken up and hasn't yet had a chance for circumstance (such as the chaos of getting seven bittys dressed for the day) to crush all of their energy and motivation. That vigor diminished when Red and Brassy both decided to protest pants for some reason (viva la nudity!), and Berry the Yanberry rolled out of bed spewing a string of, admittedly impressive, swear words and phrases. The potty-mouthed bastard could probably beat me at Scrabble without using a single appropriate word.

Triple points if I say “oh my God” while looking the term up on Urban Dictionary, and no, I'm not going to ask him to use it in a sentence.

Fortunately, my miniscule assistant, Corvus the Kara bitty, had a handle on his adopted nestlings. He and Buttons were fully dressed though the newly named Egg the Softbones still wore his comfy pajamas, which was par for the course with his bitty type. Phantom had picked out an outfit for himself though he noticeably lacked a shirt and obviously thought the look suited him. Of course a grumpy Brassy and still-pantsless Red heckled him to "put some damn clothes on.” (fuckin’ showoff)

It felt like time to accept that “good enough” would be my mantra from now on if I wanted to get anything done. I escorted my bitty brigade into the kitchen for breakfast where I discovered round 2 of energy-sapping problems. Buttons already had a specific dietary guideline: no meat, and Red still maintained his allergy to shrimp as long as they weren't shrimp from my plate (it's a fickle allergy). Would my new bittys have special dietary requests too?

First, I divided the seven boys into herbivores and carnivores. Kara kooed that he would join Buttons as a vegetarian, and Egg the Softbones gave a thumbs-up of agreement from where he dozed facedown on the counter when Kara prompted him. Berry and Phantom opted to participate in the mysterious Meat Club (you're not supposed to talk about it)(And that shirtless asshole ain't invited!) that Red and Brassy had started. Being the sweetheart that he is, Buttons suggested that the vegetarians eat in the living room so that us carnivores weren't relegated to the “garage of shame” (bold of him to assume that i feel shame).

Next, I asked Corvus if he minded eating eggs since I planned to make a vegetable omelet for breakfast. I worried that he might find egg consumption offensive considering his bird-like appearance. Instead, he kooed out a laugh and ruffled his wing feathers. Apparently my question amused him, but he reassured me that eggs were fine with him. I took it as a good sign that we'd all be eating breakfast together and got the entire crew gathered at the table so I could start cooking.

Omelets don't take long to make, even if I needed to chop a few mushrooms, peppers, and onions. Even that short amount of time was far too long for me to expect my bitty boys to behave themselves.

The problem started when Phantom made a flirty comment while I prepped ingredients. A scuffle ensued, but by the time I turned to scold my bittys at knifepoint, they stared back at me with perfect innocence and strangely disheveled clothing (he started it)(Nothing happened). This weird occurrence kept weirdly occurring every few seconds until I plopped a warm, fluffy omelet onto the table and began portioning tiny servings onto bitty-sized plates. Seven teensy skeletons settled down to their meals.

The reactions varied. Kara kooed happily, and Egg actually sat up to eat. Buttons declared the food to be delicious, a sentiment that Berry echoed with an unnecessary amount of expletives that had probably never been used to describe an omelet before. Brassy shoveled down his plateful so fast that I doubted he tasted it at all, but he opened his mouth to comment anyway only to be interrupted by Phantom tossing another flirtatious compliment my way. 

There was a single beat of silence.

Then breakfast devolved into pandemonium.

Corvus escorted Egg, Buttons, and Berry away from the explosive fray, each bitty taking his breakfast with him. Red had double handfuls of omelet and appeared to be trying to shove them into Phantom's eye sockets (yup). Phantom easily fended him off with his superior reach, though Brassy threw him off balance with a wild leg tackle. Pieces of omelet flew everywhere as I separated the three bittys who stubbornly continued to throw both insults and breakfast at each other.

I grounded Red (unfair) and Brassy (We were defending your honor!) to their respective bitty houses. Phantom, Corvus, Egg, Buttons, and Berry were relocated to the living room to finish their breakfast in front of the TV. I turned on a reality show to drown out Red's enraged (rightfully!) screeching and the sound of him slamming around anything he could find that he hadn't already destroyed, which turned out to be not much after last night's destructive tantrum.

I cleaned up the kitchen table then brought my own meal into the living room. I spent more time pondering than eating, and by the time I figured out a solution to the jealousy conundrum, my once steaming eggs had become cold gelatinous blobs on my plate. I refused to get rid of Phantom (boo), but I knew a surefire way to make Red and Brassy behave:

Bribery.

(i can be bought)

I am definitely not above bribing my bittybones for a little peace and quiet. It's time to implement Good Boy Points!

READ ON AO3

PREV | INDEX | NEXT

[ritualofcirice]

🐑 ♡ Here's one letter fresh from Sup-port, addressed to a very fantasic fox ♡ 🐑

Dear @redfoxwritesstuff,

Nobody can deny the hard work you put into your stories, as well as your efforts to make a safe, welcoming community alongside your fellow co-owners in the Voxtek Discord Server. Now it's time to share the love to Tumblr!

The way you write captures the reader's attention in an instant to take them into the heart of the story you have created. Your writing style is just that beautiful, and the emotions linger long after that ao3 tab is closed. The first chapter of Misdemeanor, wow.

For this reason, you are one of the first creative souls to be recommended to all the lovelies that will see this post! Thank you for all that you share, and thank you for continuing to be a positive force in fandom.

Wishing all the best, and sending all of our love,

The Sup-port Team xo

Let's see what other letters arrived for you!

From @redvexillum ♡

"She's a kind soul uwu"

From @crackrodent ♡

"Kit and Red are both amazing people and writers. And even though theres a lot of things i admire about both of them individually id like to start by saying how amazing of a team they are. Whether its on the voxtek discord server or on tumblr while bickering over Adam and doorknobs.

Kit has been my biggest supporter as i learned to cook this year. She's almost always the first person i tag when i need help with anything from anxiety kicking my ass to well... anything. I even asked her to explain credit scores to me and she did without any judgment. She's the most kind and understanding person i know.

My life is infinitely better knowing Red and Kit."

From @nyx-umbrakinesis ♡

"Kit is one of my favourite people in the entire world she's my wonderful quirky, kind, little traumatised, beautiful, funny, salty, shy, anxious, force of nature, occasionally sad and silly at self caring and self deprecating, lovely adorable little flower, loving, kind, hugely talented and an amazing internet wifey and I'm so grateful to the depths of my soul that I met her."

Kit's Advice To You

"Have goals. Write daily. Have a set writing time- even if it's just 15 minutes. Growing as a writer is a process and if you want to grow, it takes work (and if you don't want to grow, that's fine too!). Things like making the decision to start outlining when writing longer fics, editing for more than just grammar correction and paying attention to what you change or what you don't like while rereading your work, what you think you can do better all can go a long way. And of course, reading. Both 'real' books, old books, new books and fanfic all help too but not just for enjoyment. Paying attention to how dialog is written, how the scenes are structured, how the story moves, what you think is well done and what you don't think is well done and why you feel that way are all as important as the simple act of writing.

And having some writing buddies helps too. I am a better writer for having Vexi as my writing buddy, to encourage me to step out of my comfort zone, to (playfully) shame me when my writing gets lazy and to (annoyingly) remind me to self care and take breaks. A writing buddy with the same writing goals as you is a great tool to have too."

Want To Write A Personal Letter?

Kit's official Sup-port tag is #fromsup-port2redfoxwritesstuff

♡ Is it your first time picking up mail at Sup-port? Find out what we're about here ♡

[wedonotblastoff-arch]

Heads up to all... Thank you SO much for being so excited for me bringing this Gio back! (makes me smile so much) I will slowly post longer starters and replies once I get more situated Playing Gio. (To be honest It is rare that I play canon muses) But writing as him will simi help me write Madison’s story so Here am I. And on that note the main verse on this blog is intertwined with said story. However if you would NOT like the fanfic verse just say so and I can switch to an alternate verse that isn’t the fanfic one. Thank you! (Yes that means there will be references to Vexis @leadthemissing and to @pathtothemissing (Especially with Madison) )

[leadthemissing]

Why did you write Vexis to have such close connections with Gio?

(I take it you referring to his fanfiction verse)

/HOnestly it was an Idea i joked about at first, but the more stuff that got added to the joke the more I started to enjoy their dynamic.and it stuck.On top of that it opened up a huge door way because eventually Madison does get inspired to be a trainer because of Gio.... (still don’t know how that’s gonna happen but i’ll work it out some how)

Quick not: this is all form their  fanfic verse so please no one think i’m forcing it on you >.

[vex-bittys]

Bittybones Chapter 8: Organics and Botanicals (part 5)

READ ON AO3 >

The Good Boy Points yielded mixed but expected results. Corvus the Kara bitty, Egg the Softbones, Buttons, and Phantom racked up the Points like famous sports athletes playing the sport that they are famous athletes for (that was terrible). Berry the Profanity Machine, Red the Destroyer, and Brassyberry the Pervert failed to earn the Good Boy Points like I fail to make good sports analogies (hey we're not that bad). I had to start awarding the Points on a curve or poor Red wouldn't have any G except the stolen ones (hey!), which I allowed the thieving duo to keep.

Today, I stopped by Gigi's bitty shop to pick up items that Phantom and Berry the Yanberry had chosen to redeem their Good Boy Points for: cigarettes for Phantom, with the promise that I would leave a window cracked open so he could smoke them and some bitty-sized art supplies for Berry to express his creativity in a way that isn't swearing… not that it stopped him from swearing. My other bitties wandered around the shop, browsing while Gigi and Buttons chatted, but none of them found anything to spend their G on. I also had to stop Red from shoplifting (buying on credit!) several times.

Next we made a stop at one of those scented lotion stores. I wanted some fancy body wash and lotion, and Corvus became interested in the bubble bath selection. Red, perched on my shoulder in his appointed position of seeing-eye bitty, complained loudly about the “stink” (it smelled all flowery n’ shit). Brassy, on my other shoulder, agreed just as loudly. No Good Boy Points for them. Berry, and Buttons ask to sniff some of the soaps and lotions, Egg slept, and Phantom flirted with a salesperson (traitor)(At least it wasn't Momma).

Corvus finally picked out a bubble bath scented with “calming lavender,” and I couldn't resist getting a bottle for myself too. With a bitty family like ours, we were going to need it. 

Our last stop for the day was a bitty-friendly grocery store. The carts had baskets in the top seat with a nice soft lining for bittys to ride in safely. Of course Red and Brassberry refused the basket (of course). Red wanted to be my seeing-eye bitty again and yell at people (i'm helping!) and Brassy wanted to ride in my cleavage (I like hearing her heartbeat). Phantom kept a watchful eyelight on Berry and Buttons, who were practically climbing the sides of the basket to browse the shelves.

Corvus had his hands full making sure Egg didn't get lost. Softbones bittys have a habit of falling asleep in strange places, which isn't a problem at home or in the smaller shops we visited earlier. In fact, when I paid for our purchases at Gigi's shop, she'd opened the till to find him dozing inside. This grocery store was bustling, though. Egg could end up in someone's purse or missing in the huge maze of aisles or bins of produce. Thankfully, Corvus was on the case!

We entered the candy aisle, and my two young bittys cheered. They had plans for their Good Boy Points, and those plans involved copious amounts of sugary treats! I also needed to restock my supply of jelly beans for Red, which I mercifully did not charge him any G for (it's a dietary requirement). I warned all three of my little candy addicts that I would be limiting their sugar intake. I learned from experience with Red that too many sweets can make a bitty violently ill (stop telling people about that!).

With our pile of unhealthy food in the bottom of the cart, we perused the other aisles, picking up staples like pancake mix and cheese puffs. Everyone except Egg voiced their opinion in the produce aisle (vegetables are gross and the world must know!)(Yeah, no veggies!), but I only needed a few items. Since it's summer time, I liked to head to the Farmer's Market on the weekends for local fruits and vegetables. I don't care how much a certain Edgy Bitty complains; he's going to eat a balanced diet!

(we’ll see about that!)

On our way to the checkout lanes, Brassberry asked if we could go to the meat department to get a steak. Since adopting Buttons, I've been having all of our meat products delivered, but Brassy liked to pick out his own like a mighty hunter singling out his prey. I prepared to remind him that a certain family member might become anxious at the sight of flesh when the family member in question spoke up.

“If you want to go, I'll be OK, Momma,” Buttons said, reassuring me several more times when I questioned the decision. 

Crossing the basket, Buttons stood next to Corvus, who beamed at him. Corvus wrapped a dark wing around him, and Egg woke up to hug Buttons around the middle. I felt a tug on my hair; Red demanded to be placed in the basket, where he took up a protective position behind Buttons, one itsy bitsy hand on the young bitty's shoulder.

(it ain't like that! i just wanted some of the attention or whatever…)

Apparently, in addition to helping Buttons with his nightmares and his eye socket injuries, Egg and Corvus have been talking him through his residual fears from the trauma he experienced in his original home. Even Berry strolled over to stand beside his friend.

“Let's go to the meat section and fuck shit up,” the baby-faced potty-mouth cheered.

So we're on our way to the meat section, possibly to fuck shit up (yay!) and maybe also get a steak for Brassy I guess (Yay!).

Why can't we ever just have a normal shopping trip?

< PREV | INDEX | NEXT >

[synamartia]

First of all: Vexi, you're a bigger person than me. I wouldn't have blurred the username/pfp on that last one.

Second, how the fuck is someone gonna spew all this hate, then turn right around and make a request in the same breath? Like seriously??? Make it make sense. Please.

As fanfic writers with lives outside of tumblr and limited perspective on multiple topics for whatever reason, we do our best to make sure what we write is inclusive or at least left vague enough for Reader to fill in the blanks. We do this in our free time, for free, and it is incredibly disheartening to receive or see someone else receive things like this, especially when you know it to not be true.

I understand it's upsetting when you can't find quality fics or something you've been enjoying hits you with a detail that makes it no longer entertaining. But if you don't like the direction a story is going, or a detail like skin color of ANY character in said story, just stop reading it. It's that fucking easy. Or maybe, oh, I don't know - try writing it yourself instead of harassing someone because they're not catering to your criteria for reading material? Maybe then you would understand exactly how much time and effort is put into a fic, and the hours upon days of research to make sure what we write is accurate.

Vexi is not a POC and has outright stated that she doesn't know much about the experiences of the African American community, now or in the 1930s. As a writer that strives to give everyone quality fics that are both compelling and accurate, it is well within her rights to make Reader white because one: it's what she understands; and two: it's her story, not yours. Stop harassing writers just because they don't write something specific like the POV of someone in the Black community - it's incredibly immature and uncouth, and it makes us not want to write at all. I reiterate: if you don't like it, don't read it.

I'm so sorry that you're getting these messages, Vexi, and I hope that it doesn't deter you from writing to any degree. Don't let this anon get to you, dear. You're an amazing person with a heart of gold. Every word you type is magnificent, and I look forward to reading more from you! 💖

And to the anon doing this: I know you're making your rounds of Hazbin Hotel writers, seeing as Vexi is not the first one I've seen being harassed in such a manner. Just know that I'm turning anon off for my blog, and if you or anyone else decides to hop in my inbox, I will put you on blast so that everyone knows the kind of piece of shit you are for harassing others and spewing the same kind of hate we're ALL trying to eliminate. 🖕

PSA: RACISM, BIGOTRY, ENTITLEMENT IN HAZBIN HOTEL FANDOM

CONTENT WARNING: Inflammatory hate speech, White hate, political baiting, gaslighting, racism, death threats

The messages I’ve received and am addressing below contain upsetting and harmful language that has no place in any community. If these topics are distressing to you, please prioritize your well-being and feel free to stop reading here. Thank you for taking care of yourself.

I never imagined I would find myself addressing this, but here we are. This post is regarding my recent story, Stay With Me, which has stirred up unexpected controversy due to my decision to imply the reader’s race as white. I want to clarify that this choice was made purely for plot purposes.

The story is set in 1920s Louisiana, a time and place where racial and class dynamics were deeply significant. This backdrop was essential to the narrative’s themes of tension and forbidden love, as it explores the societal barriers that would have made a relationship between Alastor and the reader virtually impossible. The decision to depict the reader as an upper-class white individual was not arbitrary—it was intentional, aimed at heightening the drama and emotional weight of their story.

I deeply value the Hazbin Hotel fandom and the x-reader community. Writing for this space has brought me immense joy, and I’ve formed wonderful connections with both readers and fellow writers. That’s why receiving such hateful and inflammatory messages has been incredibly disheartening. The accusations of racism, the vitriol, and the twisting of my creative choices into something they were never meant to be—this has shaken me more than I can express.

To the anonymous senders of these messages: I want to make it clear that my work comes from a place of love and passion. My intention has always been to tell compelling stories that explore complex emotions, societal norms, and the human condition—stories that resonate with readers on a deeper level. To reduce my work to a political agenda or an act of prejudice is deeply hurtful and entirely unfounded.

I want to echo sentiments shared by Kit (please check out her explanation here), another writer in the fandom, who also explored the racial and class dynamics between characters. Like them, I am fascinated by the tension and drama that arise from star-crossed love stories, particularly when societal laws and prejudices forbid such relationships. Writing the reader as white in this context wasn’t about excluding or favoring anyone—it was about creating an authentic narrative rooted in the realities of the era.

For those questioning why I made this choice, I ask: if you can suspend disbelief to fall in love with a cannibalistic, asexual deer demon, why is the reader’s race—chosen for specific plot reasons—the line you cannot cross? My goal as a writer is to craft stories that make sense within their own context. The entitlement to demand otherwise, or to impose personal prejudices onto my work, is unfair and unwarranted.

I hate that I’ve had to turn off anonymous asks. Some of the most heartfelt and hilarious messages I’ve received have come from anonymous users, and losing that connection with my readers pains me. But unfortunately, the actions of a loud, hateful minority have left me with no choice. I will not entertain further discourse on this matter after this post.

To those who have supported me, who have read my stories and shared kind words: thank you. Your encouragement is what keeps me going. Writing for this fandom has been a labor of love, and I pour my heart and soul into every piece I create—for free, might I add. It’s devastating to feel that love overshadowed by hostility.

I won’t let this stop me from creating, but I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t made me question my place here. To anyone who feels entitled to tear down what others create out of hatred or spite: I hope you take a moment to reflect on the harm your words can cause.

To my true supporters: I appreciate you more than words can express. Your kindness reminds me why I love writing in the first place. Thank you for standing by me.

[vexie-chan]

"“Caleb wants to lie. To tell Essek that it will be all right. That it gets better. That he’s forgiven and loved, and everything is going to be just fine. If he could use his grasp on Essek’s arm to pull him out of the darkness he’s in, he would do so in a heartbeat.

But he can’t lie. Not about this. And not to Essek.”

Scene expansion focusing on a few of those Essek and Caleb moments.

**SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 124"

-ahem- I did a shadowgast scene expansion doodle. I just have a lot of sadboy feelings, okay?

[vexie-chan]

“Summary: "Jester, I can’t see very many colors,” Caleb admits quietly. “I’m…colorblind.” Jester sits back in her chair. Color…blind? She tries to imagine a world without color. He had said he didn’t have a favorite color…no wonder! He doesn’t have any of them! Jester finds out Caleb is colorblind and doesn't handle it super well. A world without color isn't really a world Jester is okay with.”

Hey guys! Remember that time that I headcanoned Caleb as colorblind? I finally wrote a fic for it. :D 

[vexie-chan]

“When Sasha kisses Jamie, it's about control. When Cameron kisses Jamie, it's about searching for something. But Aff is different. They're just kissing Jamie. That's all. That's enough. That's more than enough.

Jamie reflects on Aff and how the idea of Aff connects to their idea of self...and how Aff kind of turns that upside down by being an adorable, lovable cinnamon roll.“

I wrote a thing because I loved Cinderbrush and I’ve lost control of my life? 

Mind the TWs for some slurs and bullying in Jamie’s flashback. As Matt said, keep yourself safe. 

[vexie-chan]

““He’d been asked, teased, seduced, bullied, threatened…all of these, and never had he faltered. None of it was worth what his vow meant to him. The helmet was his clean slate. To walk through life with no name and no face relieved the burden of carrying everything that had ever happened to him outside of his own control on his shoulders. Everything from the moment he slid that helmet over his eyes was of his own making.”

Mando reflects on his decision to conceal his face, and his more recent one to reveal it.“

Hey guys look! I wrote fanfic for something besides Critical Role :D 

I’ve had some big feelings about the Mandalorian S2 finale for OTHER REASONS, so have a thoughtful fic about faces. 

Also, please note that I had to go find a picture of Pedro Pascal smiling for this fic and it was really cute and derailed me for a good 5 minutes. 

[vexie-chan]

Not Made to Last

Widojest drabble? Widojest drabble. I wanted to write something about the moment when Caleb draws the Jester Angel in the snow. May write more later but I’m living 3 lives right now and I wanted to doodle this like Caleb’s lil’ Jester Angel while it’s still relevant <3 

* * * 

               In Caleb’s mind, everything had been decided already. They are going back to Roshana where Caleb will go speak with the Vollstrecker in the dungeon again. He tunes the group’s chatter out as soon as he has a goal in mind. He takes out his chalk and begins drawing the teleportation circle, part of his mind already dedicated to planning what he’s going to say to her. As if he hasn’t been thinking about this since the moment they’d left the first time. (After he’d failed so completely to control himself—his old master would be so disappointed in him. His interrogation skills are so rusty now, his mind so easily distracted.)  He stops before adding the final few lines, looking up at the rest of the Nein. He takes the breath to ask whether they’re ready to go, but stops, the question falling dead on his lips.

               The group is standing around laughing. Nothing unusual about that. But it’s Jester who catches his eye. Jester is dancing as snow falls around her, glittering in the early morning sunlight. Tiny diamonds of snow are stuck in her hair and to her dark emerald cloak like thousands of tiny decorations. Her eyes are glittering like the snowflakes and she’s laughing—real laughter that reaches her whole face and every line of her body. She falls backward, sweeping her arms up and down in wide motions, her trailing sleeves making the design in the snow a little more chaotic than it usually would be. Caleb searches for the word for this activity in Common. Schneeengel. Snow Angel. Memories tug at Caleb’s mind—old memories from that forbidden time before.

               “Like this, Bren!” Una makes the motions, standing above him. Bren waves his arms and legs through the snow like a wild starfish. He doesn’t quite have the dexterity for the coordinated jumping-jack motion et. The snow manages to find its way down the back of his coat, leaving tingling paths down his neck and back.  

               “It’s cold, Mama!” he giggles. “Is it done?”  

               “Let’s see! Give me your hands so you don’t step in it,” Una says, leaning forward and reaching toward him. Bren reaches up and puts his small hands in hers. She swings him up and out of the dent he’d made in the snow, swaying him in the air a few times before setting him down next to her.

               “Good job! Look!” Una points, kneeling next to him. Bren follows her finger obediently. There is a small shape in the snow, as tall as a four-year-old boy, with a wide bell-shaped bottom and big wings out to each side.  

               “What is it, Mama?” Bren asks.

               “It’s your snow angel. Look, there are the wings and the dress as she floats through the air,” Una says, showing him. Bren wrinkles his nose.  

               “Why is it a girl angel? I’m a boy,” he says. “I should have a boy angel.”

               “Maybe it’s a robe, then,” Una amends.

               “Should I give him a halo?” Bren asks. “Don’t angels need halos?”  

               “Not always, but you can give him one if you’d like,” Una says.

               Bren carefully walks around the angel and draws a line over its head with his finger. He thinks for a moment, then leans forward and puts two dots for eyes on the face, and a wide, open mouth.

               “He’s happy because it’s snowing,” Bren explains.

               Una laughs. Bren runs back over to her, lifting his knees high to maneuver through the soft snow.

               “Now you make one!” Bren says. “Right next to mine!”

               Una agrees. She falls backward into the snow, laughing as she moves her arms and legs. She lets Bren draw the face and halo on her angel, too. They step back and admire the two angels, big and small.

               “What do snow angels do, mama?” Bren asks.

               “They’re windows so our guardian angels can watch over us. They can peek through and we can peek back. This way we can feel a little closer to them,” Una says.

               “Does everybody have a guardian angel?” Bren asks.

               “Of course. As long as you’re very good, your guardian angel will always watch over you,” Una says, hugging him.

               For the next few days, Bren goes out to talk to his angel. Just to make sure his angel knows all about him. He even introduces his angel to Frumpkin, who is less than pleased with the encounter, dashing off into the woods as quickly as possible.

               One morning, Bren wakes up to find a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The snow angels are gone, erased by the new snowfall. Una finds him sitting in the window, big tears rolling down his cheeks.

               “What’s wrong, my heart?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the windowsill next to him.

               “My angel is gone. Now I can’t talk to him anymore,” Bren sniffles, looking up at her. Una frowns, confused, until she glances out the window to see the freshly fallen snow. She smiles and pulls her boy into her lap, wrapping her arms around him.

               “Just because you can’t see him anymore doesn’t mean he’s not there. Papa’s not gone forever when he’s on patrol, is he?” Una asks.

               “No, he’s busy protecting us,” Bren says, wiping at his eyes.  

               “That’s right! And just like Papa will come home soon, we can go out after breakfast and make new angels in the snow,” Una say soothingly. “Snow angels aren’t made to last. They always vanish, but we can always make them again.”

               “What if the snow melts and it never snows again?” Bren asks. Una brushes his curly hair away from his forehead and plants a kiss there.

               “Then you’ll have to believe your angel is still there anyway, and remember all the fun you had together this winter,” she says. “Just because things only last a little while doesn’t make them any less grand.”

               Bren makes many snow angels that winter. He makes his mother make them with him as often as he can. It becomes his favorite winter activity that year.

               Caleb blinks several times, a hand over his heart. He’d forgotten. He’d been so very young when he’d made snow angels with his mother. It had been a fleeting belief, but for that one winter, he’d dreamt of shining angels singing and protecting him and his family every night. By the next winter, he was big enough to ride a sled on his own and snow angels were all but forgotten. He looks at Jester again, laughing as she makes angel after angel, connecting them as if they’re holding hands. His mother’s voice echoes in his mind, rich with laughter as they’d played together in the snow.

               As long as you’re very good, your guardian angel will always watch over you.

               If that is truly the case, Caleb’s angel is long gone. No one is there to watch over him but himself. Not that he believes in such things anymore. He has not made a snow angel in a very long time.

               Watching Jester, Caleb almost wants to make one now. She has that effect on him—on everyone around her, really. She has the most peculiar power to make everyone stop and see the fun and wonder in the world. How many times has she stopped their travels to point out the shape of a tree or a rock? How many times has she traced out entire stories in the stars during late night watches, making up her own constellations, even after Caleb had offered to teach her the widely accepted ones? Everyone in the party has become so attuned to this that “Dick Cloud” is now an unspoken traveling game. They don’t even have to say it anymore—someone will point and everyone else looks automatically. Jester has taught them to see things everywhere, to laugh at everything.

               Because of Jester, they—no, he has learned to see things in the world again. He sees fun things. He sees pretty things. He has learned to laugh again. It still surprises him when it happens, but it gets a little easier every day.

               He hadn’t thought it were possible. But more and more he finds himself laughing when she tells jokes. He smiles at the little drawings and messages she leaves him if he leaves his books on the table. Sometimes he leaves his books out just to tempt her, leaving a note on the page along the vein of “I hope Jester does not mark on this page” for her to find only to be rewarded with an answer of “Jester would never ever do that! She is too good and cute!” with a little Jester cartoon blowing him a kiss or doing something equally as silly. He treasures all of them. Jester’s doodles in his books have gotten him through many drudging nights of study.

               Caleb may not have a guardian angel anymore, but he does have a little blue tiefling watching over him, smiling and inviting him to come and play.

               He starts to stand but stops. Jester is still laughing and playing in the snow, but for the first time, Caleb notices where the snow is coming from. Fjord is summoning his sword, brandishing it in a huge arc to throw snow out over the ground and sending it away in another gust of snow. He’s laughing too, an open, relieved laugh. His eyes never leave Jester. He aims the arcs of fresh, clean snow in the easiest place for Jester to fall next. He’s making a winter wonderland for her, his face warm and gentle as he works.

               Caleb sits back on his heels. He may have Jester, but Jester has Fjord watching over her. Not him. He is glad for her, he supposes. Those days on the sea were hard for her, with Fjord growing cold and distant (with and without Avantika). There had been times where Caleb had wanted to shake him for what he was doing to Jester. Had he been a different kind of man, he likely would have. Instead, he let Jester play with Frumpkin and tell him her woes, quietly seething in the belly of their ship. Lately, though, Fjord and Jester’s relationship seems to have improved. It’s good for the both of them, Caleb thinks, watching the soft smile on Fjord’s face. Fjord needs someone loving like Jester, and Jester needs someone heroic like Fjord. It’s very good.  

                Then why does it feel so wrong? A small, rebellious part of him asks. A part he tries to ignore. Seeing Fjord and Jester playing together like this makes his heart sink. He hates it. He hates knowing what it means. At least with Fjord and Jester’s relationship improving, he doesn’t have to worry about all the what ifs that have been plaguing him lately. For just a moment, he’d dared to dream a little bit. No matter whether he should, he couldn’t help it. He’d closed his eyes and thought of a future full of blue skin and violet eyes. But now, he can put his what-ifs away. It’s better that way. She’ll be happier with Fjord and that’s all Caleb wants for her. So long as she’s happy…

               Caleb’s eyes stray back to Jester. He picks up a piece of his chalk and draws a little blue angel on the stone near the teleportation circle—not near enough to confuse the magic. He’s no artist—not like her. But his hand is steady and precise—it has to be for the magic symbols he’s learned. He draws her like a snow angel with a little triangle body and big arcing wings. He doesn’t give her a halo like the one in his memory. Instead, he draws little curlicue horns on either side of her head and a little tail peeking out from behind the bell-shaped dress. But her mouth is still wide and laughing just like all those years ago. Maybe he’d had a premonition, when he was a boy, that the one looking out for him would be laughing like that.

               “Hmm.” The noise makes him jump. Caleb looks up guiltily. Beau glances down at the drawing at up at Caleb. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question. He can almost hear her—

               You wanna talk about it?

               Caleb shakes his head quickly, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks. He tries to erase the chalk drawing, but only manages to smudge it a little. Beau’s smirk widens, though her face isn’t unkind. He knows her well enough by now to know the difference. He shoots her a glare.

               Don’t say anything.

               Beau tilts her head to one side in confusion, though her eyes dance with mischief. Caleb had never had a younger sister, but he imagines that this is what it would have been like. He tries to glare harder. Beau holds her stare for a moment longer, then gives him a tiny nod, turning her attention back to the group.

               A few minutes later, they’re ready to go. Caleb finishes the last few lines on his transportation circle and herds the group through. If he rushes them quicker than usual so they don’t have time to notice his little drawing, they don’t seem to notice.  

               He glances at the hillside one last time, where dozens of Jester-angels are left in the snow. Just before he steps through, a light snowfall begins, soon to erase them all. After all her work and all of the fun and joy they’d brought, they’ll have gone without a trace, hidden under the snow. No one will ever see them. And no one will ever see the small blue angel, drawn in a crude, mathematically trained hand on the stone.

               Caleb steps through the circle and the snow angels are gone.

[vexie-chan]

“"Look after each other," Bren's mother had told them. Eodwulf had done his best. He'd taken care of little Bren until he couldn't anymore. When he'd stopped visiting Bren in the Sanitarium, Eodwulf had never thought he'd see him again.Bren doesn't need Eodwulf to look after him anymore.-Rewrite of the scene in the Sanitarium during episode 88, from Eodwulf's perspective-“

I wrote some Eodwulf fic! Check it out! 

[vexie-chan]

“ "I know my faith hasn’t been as strong as it should be lately, Traveler. And I don’t ever want to waver again. I want to be strong enough to take care of my friends, and succeed where I failed," Jester prays.

Jester got her magic tattoo to make her stronger and to remember her god's power. She didn't expect to have to use it to save her family again and again. They don't see how it diminishes little by little. But it's worth it. Her family is worth more than some silly magic tattoo.”

Based on an idea originally posted by @fivegoldpieces after episode 84. Thank you for the inspiration!