#there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap

[naffeclipse]

I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud) #The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

[streets-in-paradise]

Friday the 13 Th - Eddie Munson x (Fem) Henderson! Reader

Warnings: Friday the 13 Th franchise references.

Summary: Eddie has convinced you of making something big to bother Jason in the most fitting day for your inside joke about him.

Notes: Happy Friday the 13 th! Let's make fun of Jason lol

The school's cafeteria was a stage where Eddie loved to play being a dreaded artist annoying the well adjusted students with his unhinged dramatizations. He was an autentical court jester despite many loathed his performances. You may have been once too shy to get involved or even engage, but the spirit of companionship of Hellfire had slowly and consistently changed that.

As two lonely weirdos doing their best to not be noticed during most of your highschool experience, you have always been in a distant bubble with Jonnathan doing your own thing unless bullies would disrupt you. There was no one else at least untill he started to date Nancy and you befriended Eddie first, later also Steve. While you remained best friends, some of that crave to hide together in a little corner going unnoticed began to change and that was way more evident in you under the influence of Eddie.

For once at least, Jonnathan acceded to get involved for a small role in a carefully crafted espectacle you were planning because he got to appreciate the concept. Fellow horror geek, he found it simple yet quite effective. At very least you both would have a funny story to share with Will and Dustin.

Staged action took it's course as you approached him limping and pretending you were crying your heart out.

" Please, please! You have to help me!! " You begged him for the entire place to hear you, your ketchup soaked hands seeking to hold his clean ones . " … He is coming, he got my friends!!! He is gonna kill us! "

Pretending confussion wasn't that hard given your performance.

" What are you talking about?"

" The councelors were making love while that young boy drowned!!" You directly referenced the speech of Pamela Vorhees in a mashup with a victim character. " … Now we are all cursed. WE DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED!!!! "

When your agonical, prophetic scream gave him the sign Eddie emerged rushing like a maniac into the scene.

" FRIDAY THE 13 TH!!! IT'S FRIDAY THE 13 TH, PEOPLE!!" He began to scream to anyone in his way. " RUN FOR YOUR LIVES CAUSE JASON IS GONNA COME TO GET YOU!"

The joke was perfectly timed with the entrance of Jason Carver. Annoyance was the less concerning feeling it awakened on the target. When you once started it he could have never imagined it was going to stick with the full weirdo group and even escalate.

" Are you looking for trouble, freak?"

Enacting a reaction fitting for a horror movie, you got in between them shielding Eddie with your body.

" No, Eds! Don't sacrifice yourself for me!! "

Eddie turned dramatically to play pretend a heartfelt objection.

" I must do it. You are the final girl and i am just the disastrous but charming male lead following you into the woods just because i'm in love with you. " He followed your performance with a self awareness touch. " Go, my beloved. Save that stoner and remember me. "

You held his hands as if his life trully depended of listening to you.

" I won't let you go! I know how to defeat Jason, you just have to trust me. "

The basketball player was frankly weirded. Still angry, but his lack of contextual orientation to whatever you were thinking to be doing temporally overcame his desire to punch Eddie in the face.

He was accidentally incarnating one of the lapsus of confussion Jason Vorhees could sometimes had in the films before resuming the chase for his victims.

Perfect moment for you to iniciate the end of the third act taking off your jacket to reveal a striped sweater in matching colors with the Tigers.

" Look at me Jason!! Look! Come over here … " You began to call him in the sweetest tone. " Do you recognize this? You are in home, honey.. It's gonna be ok, I'll take care of you!"

Your friends were laughing uncontrolably and you realized that even a guy in the jock's table was holding his chuckles. Probably only just for the excessive female nudity of the franchise, but he must have watched the film your joke was referencing. Not missing the chance to expose it, you smiled at him and his amusement turned inmediately into disgust.

" Friday the 13 Th Part 2, just in case you want to rent it for the weekend. " You explained to Jason after abandoning the character. " My interpretation didn't stick completely to the source material, but I found this sweater in a thrift store and inmediately thought of you. Eddie insisted we had to save it for the next Friday the 13 Th. "

" Meaning that you got that cheap sweater in my team's colours and prepared a scene arround it just to annoy me. " Jason summarized out loud, clearly fed up with all the freaks. " At least i can say you took too many bothers to get my attention in this oddly specifical charade. "

" Bullshit! He is pissed off, only tries to hide it because he lost. " Eddie quickly corrected. " We made it, sweetheart!!"

You both hi fived each other and rushed in the opposite direction, but hubris made Eddie deliver one last comeback on the way.

" Happy Friday 13 Th, Carver !!!! Don't get in the lake!!! "

Despite he did enjoy the thrill, Jonnathan was giving you judgamental looks as you reached him.

" … If i get targeted again for this."

Eddie patted him on the shoulder cheerfully before reassuring him.

" Chill, man! His feud is against us, you are totally safe. "

" That was freaking awesome! " You followed the cheers. " Don't lie to me, I saw it in your eyes. You are as excited as me. "

You had a point and he couldn't deny it.

" Fine, it was quite fun … Not as satisfying as punching Steve, but still. "

Eddie clearly supported the posibility of finding someone to complain about Harrington with that you couldn't object to. Besides, he was a big fan of the referenced episode.

" I heard all about it, the freak that kicked his bully's ass and stole his girlfriend … I just want you to know that Hellfire considers you a hero. You will always be welcome among us. "

His most inmediate answer was an awkward smile.

" Thanks. I really appreciate it, but i would like to keep my girlfriend. "

They chuckled and Eddie's was the loudest.

" Good call, man! Good call. "

Something in the specifical way Eddie choose to congratulate Jonnathan made you feel uneased. Probably because you were just jealous imagining he could want to steal his bully's girlfriend too if he had the same chance.

" Eds, if we were in a horror movie. Do you really think we would be the romantically coded final girl and last kill boy sacrificing himself so she could make it to the final fight?" You asked him as you were walking thowards the Hellfire table. " I mean, I won't do well as a final girl. To be one you need more than just be the virgin ... "

The joke may have been themed as a different thing, but you were masquerading your will to figure out if that was the case.

" ... And most times they aren't unwanted freaks, they are normal cute girls just too shy to approach their crush or too nervous to let their boyfriends convince them of sleeping together. "

He wasn't sure of where the point was going, but didn't mind to indulge you.

" Realistically, I would be the guy who dies alone getting high in the woods. " He mocked himself. " but i do think you could be a final girl. Although a rare breed we don't often get blessed with, freak girls tend to be passionate horror fans. You know all the rules to survive, my prediction is that you would make it and at the end of the film Harrington would be asking you out. "

The answer deviated from the path you expected.

" I thought you would accuse Steve of being the asshole jock dying in the sex scene. "

" As a judge I'm cruel, but fair. That has to be Hargrove, Harrington has higher chances of making it if he sticks with you. "

That made you laugh for reasons he could never possibly understand. In real life, Steve was the resourcefull fighter.

" Would you believe me if I tell you that Steve is a final girl ? "

He was laughing harder then, untill your softly delivered conclussion stopped it.

" I would like to make it with you too … It would be a refreshing change for the slasher formula. "

Eddie wasn't sure of it, but for an instant he choose to treat himself imagining you said you wanted to be with him in a very freakish way.

" There is no way i could make it. Ríght now i can tell you I would die for you. "

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #jason carver #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #joseph quinn

[jiabeewrites]

Back to the futu- er, present

TW: Valentino trying to take advantage (not sexually) of Jess. 

(Flashback over)

"-ello? Can you hear me, doll?" Jess shook herself out of a stupor.

"Oh, sorry, just lost in thought." Valentino smiled reassuringly.

"I never got your name." Jess looked up at him. 

"Jessi Quinn." If she really was in hell, then no way in heck was she gonna give him her full name.

"Jessi, huh. Cute name. Hey, listen," he said, looking at a large clock tower in the distance. It had the words "Next Cleanse" on it, and the numbers underneath it were 001. "We need to get out of here. The exterminators are gonna come soon, and you don't wanna be outside when it happens. Why don't you come to my place, and you can wait the extermination out." 

He didn't sound the most genuine. But even if he wasn't the most trustworthy, this "extermination" thing sounded bad. And she didn't think hell had hotels. (A/N: suuuuuure they don't)

"Okay, I'll stay until it's over. I have a question, though." She thought a moment. "A lot of questions, actually." Valentino chuckled. 

"Sure, Jessi. I'll teach you about hell and how it works."

"Okay, so if I understand correctly, I'm in Pentagram City, one of the more... sane parts of hell."

"Yep."

"I'm here because I did something bad in my past life. Pretty sure it was killing people, but whatever."

"...Yes"

"You are something called an overlord."

"Yes."

"And I'm some sort of demon, which to me isn't really obvious, because my poor excuse of a father made me dress like this pretty often. Well, except for the purple."

It was true. Instead of her Joker-green eyes (courtesy of the poison that ran through her veins), they were...purple? Her hair was no longer green, but black with purple streaks running through it. She was a foot taller, and her skin was white. Running across her left wrist, hand, and fingers was a tattoo of a vine. The vine was -surprise- poison ivy, with red and black flowers dancing around her fingers. Looking closer, the petals were made out of diamonds. 

If hell's job was to bring out your inner self, she supposed it did a good job of it.

"Yes, your demon form is supposed to look different than your human one, but I suppose if your father made you like that then... Nevermind." Valentino looked over towards the curtains. He walked over and pulled them open. 

Outside there were fireworks. 

"You have fireworks in hell?" Jess asked.

"The princess sends them out every time the extermination ends."

"Oh, good. I really don't wanna overstay, so I'll just be leav-" Valentino cut her off with a dark chuckle.

"Oh nonononono, sweetheart. You're not getting away that quickly. I did you a favor, now you... are in debt. I saved your life, after all," he said sinisterly. Jess sighed.

"Look, from what I've assessed from the past 40-something hours, you own a porn studio. So that probably means that you want me to work for you, which really won't slide. I'm asexual, so I think I can repay the debt doing something else. I was a villain in my former life, after all," she said. She really didn't want to repay Valentino's favor by working for him... in the sex industry. 

Valentino merely rolled his eyes.

"Sweetheart, we were all villains. That's why we're down here." Jess smirked.

(A/N: for the sake of the story, Valentino died when Batman was just starting to gain fame. HE KNOWS WHO BATMAN IS JUST DEAL)

"Val, d'ya know who Batman is?" She asked.

"You mean the guy from Gotham who fights psycho clowns? Yeah, I've heard of him," Valentino responded.

"Joker's my father. Yaknow, the psycho clown? I went by Jester on earth." He raised an eyebrow.

"So you were literally a villain. Huh."

"Mhm, and maybe instead of being a rentable fucktoy, I can kill people for you. My debt repaid in blood." It was a tad dramatic, but it was the one thing she'd picked up from her father. 

Valentino grinned.

"You're fiesty, I'll give you that. I think I'll take that offer, Miss Quinn," he said. "You'll be my personal assassin. Do we have a deal?" He held out his hand as red light poured into the room.

"Yeahhhhhhh no. Mutual agreement sounds better." He glared.

"Take the deal or you work for the studio." She paled (if that was possible, I mean she has WHITE SKIN). 

"Okay, okay, deal!" She shook his hand. He grinned. 

"Excellent. I'd like you to meet an... employee of mine. His name is Angel Dust."

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

A/N: YASS SHES FINALLY GONNA MEET ANGEL AGHDLSFJKLSDJFLKSJ

I feel like a lot of my chapters are rushed, but honestly this is just for fun so-

Sorry if Valentino is OOC, I don't really know how to write him!

I did change her backstory from the OC Lore backstory, and don't worry about the deal. She's eventually gonna "befriend" Valentino, but like in a good way. No controlling her. More like a frenemy kind of relationship. 

That's how she'll [REMOVED FOR SPOILER REASONS]

So anyway, please enjoy the chapter!

Looking absolutely ✨ fabulous✨ today!

-Jia

#hazbin valentino #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #jiabeewrites

[chockfullofsecrets]

Because I'm always a sucker for this one: 24. “I didn’t actually want you to stop…”

did i look at a certain tag for inspiration? maybe

24. “I didn’t actually want you to stop…”

Now, Molly’s fairly sure that no sane person would call him a wet blanket, but as it turns out being cruelly abandoned by their resident hot sailor puts him about as close as he’ll get.

He’ll get over it, eventually. But he might as well be a dramatic shit in the meantime, so when Fjord falls back and nudges him in the shoulder two hours into the afternoon stretch of their last day on the road he indulges in a long, luxurious, back-cracking stretch before deigning to acknowledge his existence. “Got something to say, Captain?”

Fjord rolls his eyes to high heaven, shifting easily to walk backwards in front of him. It’s unfairly charming of him. “No, but I get the sense you’ve got plenty - you want me to ask what’s gotten into you, or do you feel like sharing?”

Molly props his chin an inch higher - Fjord’s taller than him, which, unfair, but with the extra boost he can just about leer at him along the length of his nose. “Oh? I think I’ve been rather well-behaved, actually.”

He watches Fjord’s shoulders sag, and what should be a well-deserved sense of justice curdles more like he’s just kicked something cute and fuzzy into a gutter. Fuck.

Fjord swivels to fall back into step with him - all the sword practice has been paying off, looks like - and leans in close enough to make Molly shiver in a way he’s not entirely sure is intended. Gods, he misses Yasha, it’s been a while since he’s had a good cuddle.

“Look,” Fjord murmurs, low and gruff and surprisingly quiet, “you know I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole, I really don’t get it. Last night, you were being, uh, difficult-”

Aw, he’s too nice to call him a brat outright. Molly can’t relate. “Mmm, how’s that belly of yours doing? Still deathly ticklish?”

The poor thing clears his throat, but Molly can already see his cheeks starting to darken. Cute. He’s lucky Jester didn’t get to him first, or he’d still be curled up and snickering too hard to give that silver tongue of his a single chance to save himself. “Tealeaf, you - anyway. So I gave you a taste of your own medicine, which you deserved, thanks very much, and then you were wriggling like a beached whale so I let you go.”

Molly hums. “Sounds about right.”

“And?” Fjord presses. “Care to tell me which part of that’s pissing you off?”

Fjord’s still close enough that he can feel phantom warmth prickling across his right side, and he’s been chasing that squirmy, lolling feeling since Fjord rolled off him last night and told him to behave himself as if that was going to help with anything, and even as his skin crawls with embarrassment he can’t help but spit it out. “Maybe I didn’t actually want you to stop.”

Fjord does stop, again, right there in the middle of the road and quick enough that Beau has to swerve around him with an annoyed ‘watch it!’. He blinks. “Oh.”

There’s really nothing else to say. Molly does what he always does - sticks his chin up, flicks his coat to make it billow behind him, and keeps right on going.

With all that, it’s no wonder he misses Fjord coming up behind him and throwing him over his shoulder - he’s walking, and then he’s in the air, and then there’s a shoulder in his stomach and a very fine backside inches from the tips of his horns. He barks out a surprised laugh. “What - Fjord! - I don’t think you could carry me five more yards, dear, you’d better put me down.”

“Nah, you’re not much more than a coil of rope,” Fjord says easily from somewhere up above. “Loose ends and all.”

He feels a fingertip hook around the end of his tail, brushing lightly across the tip, and-

He’s not quite sure what he does at that, but it involves a good deal of frantic giggling and clawing his way up the back of Fjord’s armor until he’s curled around his neck like Frumpkin does with Caleb. It’s cozy, he can see why the fey allows it. “Hah - oh, fuck you, that tickles, how did you know?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Fjord tells him, and he could hear the shit-eating grin even if his face wasn’t currently smushed into Fjord’s chest plate six inches from it. “Was pretty sure this would, though.”

He puts his arm up and threads it through Molly’s, locking him in place as he works his fingertips up into his armpit. It’s absolutely not a good idea to wriggle this high up, but Molly can’t help himself as Fjord scritches a single fingertip, light and unbearable, into the hollow - he kicks, rolls his shoulders frantically from side to side, but his tail’s trapped and he can’t move his arm - Fjord’s barely moving his fingers but he’s going to dissolve - “Hhhahhh,” he whines.

Fjord laughs. “Can’t escape up there, can you? Too bad.”

It’s broad daylight, with miles of empty road stretching out around them. Molly’s never wanted to be destroyed more in his entire life. “Gods,” he chokes out. “Fjord, you fucker, if you drop me-”

Fjord starts to fiddle with his tail again. Molly shuts up.“Oh, I’ve learned my lesson, you’re not getting down until you tap out.”

He smooths his thumb back and forth across the spaded tip, and it’s bad enough that Molly nearly does just that. “Gah - hhh - eheheeee, heh-”

“Oh, there’s a thought,” Fjord muses, like Molly isn’t right there and giggling so hard that he’s shaking with it. “If I don’t let you off till we reach town, are we going to have a quiet night for once? Or do I need to get Jessie involved for that?”

Molly’s pretty sure they’re going to have to bury him right here, six feet in the air. At least that’s a nice change of pace.

#tickling #critical role #fjolly #fjord #mollymauk tealeaf #chocfic #asks #look i know i said these would be shorter but lee!molly demands more

[bittenwritten]

Idle Gossip

[Harley Quinn 2019] Scarecrow x [Villain] reader

*reader is gender neutral* [Reposted from my Wattpad account]

It all started with your invitation to the Penguin’s nephew’s Bar Mitzvah coming through the mail slot. Normally, you’d prefer to keep to yourself and not attend any social gatherings. However, on this occasion you’d had a rough week and a fancy get-together seemed to be just what the doctor ordered, and so you decided to bite the bullet and attend. Unfortunately, what you seemed to completely forget, until the day of the Bar Mitzvah, is that you'd actually have to talk to people. Great.

You decided that cancelling now would just be more hassle than it was worth, and so that is how you ended up sitting round a small table with a few of your fellow Legion of Doom members discussing the recent drama that was the JoQuinn break-up. Other than the Joker blowing up the host of Good Morning Gotham, this was the first time you were hearing about the whole drama, so it was all news to you. Well, I say ‘conversation’, it was more so just Scarecrow gossiping at the group about the whole hullabaloo while everyone else was becoming tired of the non-stop gossip coming out of Jonathan’s mouth. Well, everyone but you. You couldn’t for the life of you explain, but you just seemed to hang onto every single word that came out of his mouth as he rambled on.

 You weren't even really listening to what was being said anymore, you were just so transfixed by the way he spoke, there was some kind of devilish charm to it that made you feel weak in the knees.

 You’d only recently realized your feelings for the twig of a man on a collaborative heist, where you had to suddenly drag him out of Batman's sight and ended up pinning him up against the wall. Neither of you even said anything, you just stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time until Batman walked in and caught the two of you like that. It had to be the most embarrassing point in your career, but there was something about that flustered look on his face that made your heart skip a beat.

Back in the present, Twoface looked like he was about to lose his patience before the door to the atrium swung open. Two figures stood in the doorway, the more extravagant of the two had a massive tiger on a lead in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. You didn’t even recognise her for a split-second but her pale-white skin was an immediate give away to her identity, it was the Joker’s ex, Harley Quinn. Behind her stood the more intimidating figure of Poison Ivy, she seemed to be more disinterested with the whole thing. Harley took a swing from the bottle and threw it over her shoulder, only to stop dead in her tracks as she looked around in horror, you could only assume she mis-read her invite in regards to what type of party this was. Glancing over to your fellow villains, they seemed to be just as confused as you were.

“Well, this is an interesting development” Scarecrow commented, resting his head in his hand as he leaned forward. “You know...” he started “i bet there’s something going on between those two” he used his free-hand to gesture towards the two.

“Y’know what, I’m starving.” TwoFace quickly stood up “Bane, buddy, how's about you and I go check out the buffet?” 

“Sure, sounds good.” Bane said in his usual upbeat tone.

“Yeah, good idea.” Scarecrow added as he began to stand out of his seat.

“Nah, nah, nah.” TowFace cut him off. “Y’know two’s company but three's a crowd-” he clearly just wanted an excuse to get away from the non-stop gossip that was giving him a head-ache.

“You two just stay put, we’ll be back in a sec” and with that he bee-lined towards the buffet table with Bane following closely behind. Scarecrow slowly sat back down and stared in confusion at the two before turning his attention to you.

“Wonder what got into them” he laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah, I wonder.” you agreed and took a quick sip from your drink.

His expression turned to a more deadpan one. “Well I mean you could at least try to be a bit more subtle with it.” he scoffed.

“Sweetheart, if I was to be subtle about anything, you wouldn’t pick up on a single thing I was implying” you shot back, leaning towards him and taking another swig from your drink.

“Oh, like your obvious attraction to me.” he joked and raised an eyebrow as you spat out your drink in surprise.

“S’cuse me?!” you managed to sputter out once you recovered from your coughing fit.

“Oh give me a break.” he rolled his eyes. “I know I can be a bit oblivious at times but not to this extent.” he said as a smirk formed at the edges of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” you laughed nervously, trying to relieve some of the sudden tension that had been created. He looked at you like you’d just asked him who Batman was before answering. 

“I mean, you avoiding me recently, your longing stares.” he put a hand on his head in overly dramatic fashion, which admittedly got a slight laugh from you.

“I mean for fucks sake, just now you were making eyes at me throughout the conversation about the break-up.” he added. Your body stiffens and heats up as he finishes his sentence. God, were you that obvious? 

At this point, your face was as red as a tomato and you were stumbling over your words as you failed to come up with a rebuttal. Luckily you were saved from this hell when Bane and TwoFace returned to the table, stopping him from continuing his accusation. You sighed in relief and looked back over to him, he still had that smug smirk on his face that always made your heart flutter. 

“How's the food over there?” you asked.

“Eh, nothing worth spoiling your dinner for.” TwoFace shrugged, sitting back into his seat.

“Uh-oh, who are these trouble-makers?” Harley walked up to the table.

“Nah, I'm just kidding- I know it’s you [name], Scarecrow, TwoFace, other side of TwoFace, Bane-!” you all laughed at her imitation. “I'm gonna’ blow up this Bar Mitzvah” Bane grumbled.

“Quinn, Great ta’ see ya’! Where've ya’ been hiding?” TwoFace asked.

“On your left side where you can’t see shit!”

You all burst into laughter again but this time you couldn’t help but steal another look at Scarecrow. You loved the way he looked when he laughed, from the way his eyes lit up to his dorky smile, you just couldn't get enough of it but you quickly looked away before he could catch your staring.

“So guess who came up with a plan to kill Batman, uh, ya girl-” but before she could continue a looming shape appeared behind her.

“Look who’s trying to run before she can walk”. Well, as if your night couldn’t get any worse, the Joker was here to completely derail it. Great.

The others laughed and you plastered on a fake smile.

“Mazel Tov!” Bane greeted him.

“Jesus”

“Glad you're here, J-man. Pull up a chair, doesn’t bother me-” Harley pulled out the menu.

“So who’s going beef and who’s going chicken?”

“You are going somewhere else-” Joker demanded.

“-because this is the Legion of Doom table! Why don’t you find the crazy bitch table?”

“Spoiler: it’s not a real table” Bane chipped in.

“That was implied-”

“Oh” Bane frowned.

“Who wants to ditch this jester and tear up Gotham with me?!” Harley yelled, which was only met with manic laughter from the Joker.

“Laugh, laugh with me” Joker ordered. You did your best to sound genuine as you forced a laugh, like the others, but you weren't too sure how convincing you sounded.

“Uhh, you know what, who needs ya’ this table is too far away from the dancefloor anyway!” Harley stomped off.

Joker pulled up a seat and sat down.

“Sorry about that folks, women am i right?” None of you really felt comfortable with that last comment.

“Joker, nice to see ya’, didn’t think you’d make it” TwoFace said, greeting him.

“Well, of course, how could i miss such a big event” he grinned, to you it seemed a bit disingenuous but you let it slide.

“Now, what did I miss?”

“Scarecrow was just telling us how Harley dumped ya’.” TwoFace explained.

“Oh really?”

The smug grin on the Joker’s face dropped as he shot a glare at Scarecrow, who was currently sweating bullets.

“Oh I'm sure you're definitely in a position to talk, Crane, seeing as your single ass can’t even get a date, let alone dump one. And for the record, I dumped her.” you could feel the condescending nature of his tone as he spoke. Jonathan looked down at his drink as Joker continued to talk down to him.

You desperately wanted to say something but were snapped out of your thoughts by a loud voice screaming “assholes-”, you all quickly turned to see where the voice came from, only to find it was Harley bitching about you all to Ivy. Joker shot her a smug grin before turning back to the group. He opened his mouth to speak again only to be cut off.

“But they don’t know shit-” Harley screamed again, shaking their table as she slammed her fists onto it. Luckily, this seemed to distract Joker from his rant long enough for him to forget.

“Now, where was I?” 

Thinking quickly you came up with an answer.

“You were talking about dumping Harley.”

“Ah, yes. Can you believe that, the bitch even blew up my hideout out of spite-” he started going on and on about how he was totally the one who ended it. You looked over to Scarecrow as he sighed a breath of relief and mouthed ‘thank you’. You smiled and nodded at him before facing back to the pasty-white madman in front of you. 

By the time Joker had finished his rant, the food had arrived. It was pretty good, but you and Scarecrow were both too busy stealing looks at each other while the other wasn’t looking to enjoy it. 

“Uuh, my chicken’s rubbery.” Joker grumbled.

 “Ooh, your beef looks good” he said as he slid Bane’s plate over to himself.

“Uh, fine” Bane sighed as he reached for the plate of chicken, wanting at least something to eat.

“Ah-“  Joker swatted his hand away. 

“I might finish that.”

“Well, then, what are we doing?-” Bane protested, but was cut off by a voice over the speakers.

“Hey, everybody, let’s give it up for Joshua’s Bar Mitzvah. Huh?” Penguin stood on stage next to his nephew, Joshua.

“It was very special, for me it was when I realized it was my dream to become a crime lord” he wiped a tear from his eye before continuing. 

“So today, I force that dream onto you.” The crowd cheered as he placed a top-hat, that was identical to his, onto Joshua’s head.

You look out of the corner of your eye and catch Scarecrow staring directly at you. Though he was wearing his mask, you could tell he was blushing by the way his eyes darted away from you as he straightened himself the moment your eyes met, only daring to look back at you to see if you were still staring back at him. You flashed him a cheeky grin as you playfully winked at him, you could swear that you saw his heart completely stop beating inside his chest as you did. 

“Okay, Joshua, get ready for your first caper! Good luck fighting off the guards, also known as Gotham Chuckle Hut’s finest improvisers, and stealing that cash-ola, otherwise known as ‘Joshua Bucks’!” The curtains began to open.

“Go Joshua- Oh my God-”

The curtains opened fully to reveal what seemed to be a massacre. The improv troupe lay in pools of their own blood, you could even see the bone fully stick out of one man’s leg for crying out loud! The culprit stood in the doorway of the vault, after somehow getting it open, and was holding some of the ‘Joshua Bucks’. Judging by your table’s reaction, you could tell who it was. Your suspicions were confirmed when the perp spoke up.

“Hey, Joshy, Mazel Tov!” Yeah, it was Harley. You could get a better view of her as she walked closer and picked up one of the men so it looked like he was standing.

There was an audible gasp from the crowd as she dropped him again, further exposing his bones. In contrast, Joker started laughing maniacally and nugded Bane.

“This is fantastic! You’re probably not laughing because this is sort of how you screw up.”

“You ruined the Bar Mitzvah!” Penguin stated as he walked forward as the crowd booed.

“-and crippled an improv troupe!”

“Meh- oh well”

Bane, TwoFace and Bane quickly stood up, but you and Scarecrow were only now snapping fully back into reality.

“If you two could quit your eye-fucking session and hurry up, it would be greatly appreciated-” Joker snapped at you both as he and the others made their way to the vault room, before you could say anything to defend yourselves. You both looked at each other for a split-second but you quickly pushed down your feelings of embarrassment and speeded after them with Jonathan hot on your heels.

“-and that's our show, folks!” Harley announced and took a bow before darting towards the exit.

“I've got this.” Penguin said, cocking his umbrella gun and taking aim.

There was a loud ‘thud’ as Harley fell to the floor as the tranquilizer dart took effect. You all gathered round to see what was happening.

“Say ‘goodnight, Puddin’.” Joker spoke with a smug grin on his face.

“You think… this is gonna’... stop...me?” her words became more slurred as she slipped into unconsciousness. Joker only laughed at ths threat.

“Hah- She even sounds like you!” he laughed as he turned to Bane.

“Oh- I don't think… Do I sound like… You never hear your own voice I guess.” Bane sputtered out, as two of Penguin’s henchmen picked up Harley’s limp body. You all walked out of the vault room and joined the crowd as the music started playing again.

“I’m assuming this is all you’ll be gossiping about for the next year.” you spoke in a hushed tone as you nudged Scarecrow’s arm. He simply rolled his eyes at you, but did nothing to cover up the dorky grin on his face as he did so. 

“Perhaps.” he said, pausing before he continued.

“When I do, would you like me to leave in the part where I repeatedly caught you staring affectionately at me or no?”

“Oh really, ‘cause I could've sworn that I caught you only a couple of minutes ago doing the exact same thing.” you scoffed, leaning towards him.

 You see a hint of momentary panic in his eyes as he tries to conjure up an excuse and push down the feeling of… warmth?- he got in his stomach as he remembered the part where you winked at him, he couldn’t explain it but it felt familiar. Then it hit him like a brick, he knew exactly where he’d felt this before. He’d felt the same weird, warm, fuzzy, confusing feeling when you had him pinned against that old factory wall and were staring into his eyes. He’d rather die than admit it, but you looming above him, the way your chest rose and fell as you panted, the fact that your mouths were so close that if he so much as tilted his head upward your lips would be touching, might have just awoken something in him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and saw you still waiting for his answer.

“Guilty as charged.” he shrugged and laughed nervously.

Before you could continue, you both noticed four men carrying Harley, who was tied to a chair and just regaining consciousness now.

“Cut the song- No Horah for Harley” Penguin ordered as the men placed the chair down a couple of feet away from him.

“Hey, it's gonna’ take more than a souped-up parasol to keep me from kicking your ass you fat, flightless bird.” Harley snapped.

“The mouth on her!” Penguin turned to Joshua.

“What better way to become a man than by-”

“-Ohh! Than by touching your umbrella? Whoo!” Joshua snatched the umbrella from his hands. 

“Yes! I’ve been waiting for this!” he stated as he pointed it towards Harley

“Any last words before I kill your dumb, blonde, stupid, smelly-”

“-That’s too many adjectives,” Scarecrow whispered. You nodded in agreement.

“-Idiot ass!” Joshua finished.

“Hey, Joshua, make sure you aim it directly at my head ‘cause you don’t want to miss in front of your friends and family-”

“I won’t miss” Joshua stated as his hand began to shake.

“I don’t know.. That trembly finger’s telling a different story-” she taunted.

“I-it’s not trembly, it’s just- I’ve never shot an umbrella before-”

“I bet there’s a lot of things you’ve never done, like: drunk a beer-”

“-I drunk a beer, like all the time. I always drunk beers” his voice became as shaky as his hand as he looked around the room.

“I bet you still believe in Santy Clause.”

“I-i don’t! I’m Jewish and tonight I’m a man!”

“Oh, that’s right, i forgot that I’m talkin’ to a newly grown man- I mean you’ve already finger-banged somebody.” There was a loud gasp from the audience. Well, this got uncomfortable real quick.

“Wait, what?!”

“I mean you have, haven’t you, you didn’t lie about such an important milestone, right?”

“Y-yeah it happened!”

“Are you sure?” Joshua’s body was fully trembling at this point as he looked over to his uncle, who glared back at him, waiting for him to take the shot.

“I-I don’t… I don’t know… it was dark” he stammered .

“It was at camp, at night… it was me and her and it was dark. I definitely did something” 

“Oh, Joshy, do you really think you're ready to kill someone if you’ve never even finger-blasted a girl?”

“You’re right- I’m not ready” he started to sob as he ran into his mother's arms.

“I told you we should’ve gotten him the dollhouse like he asked, Oswald-” she hissed

“It’s not a dollhouse! It’s an army base with sound  effects of real screams, and it’s the only thing I wanted!” his voice broke half way through his sentence.

“Your dead, Quinn” Penguin spat as he aimed his umbrella at her, but then the sound of glass breaking filled the room and a man fell face-first from the ceiling, followed by Poison Ivy lowering herself down from the newly made hole with a vine. Harley greeted her before doing a front flip onto her back which broke the chair, and something else , you assumed by the way she reacted.

“Uuh, i thought that was gonna be way cooler-” she hissed as the Joker walked up to her.

“Harley, you're not a solo-act, you're a sidekick, an afterthought. No one is ever going to take you seriously. Admit you’re nothing without me and you walk away alive. Or you can die!”

“Welp, easy choice.” the weird green man got up from the floor.

“uh , lovely Bar Mitzvah. Mazel, mazel.” he began to walk away.

“Are you leaving?” Ivy asked him.

“Uh, no-”

“I ain’t admitting shit!” Harley hissed as she picked herself up. Joker only sighed.

“Boys?” he called on the four of you, you all grinned and raced to grab your weapons from the table.

“I’ve got TwoFace.” Harley stated.

“I’ve got [name] and Scarecrow.” Ivy confirmed.

“I have-oh wow- oh God- wow.” Kite-Man stared up to see Bane towering over him, who got even bigger when he started pumping venom into himself.

“You- you’re looming! Um, alright, I’ll take, um… if you don’t mind if you could scootch just a little.” he asked, looking past Bane.

“Boom, onsite coordinator. Looking kind of brittle there, won’t see it-” Bane swatted him to the other side of the room before he could finish.

TwoFace opened fire on the two, but Ivy used her vines as a shield for herself and Harley. Within seconds, Harley was flung over the top of the shield and landed behind you and Scarecrow. You both turn around just in time to dodge the first few swings of her bat but as Scarecrow stepped back Harley kicked his gun right out of his hand and yelled for Ivy to pass her TwoFace’s gun. You spun round to see if Jonathan was alright, only to be met with a bat to the back of the head as Harley snuck up behind you, which caused you to fall forwards. You braced yourself for the feeling of your head hitting the hard tiles but were caught on your way down. You looked up to see Scarecrow grabbing you by the arm, you pushed against him and were able to get back on your feet and tossed him his gun. You glanced behind him to see Harley aiming TwoFace’s gun at his back but fired before you could get out a warning. As the bullets punctured the canisters on his back, the force of the fear toxin rushing out sent him flying. You covered your mouth and ran away to avoid the fear toxin that was already causing people to hallucinate, grabbing your gun as you did. Thankfully, Scarecrow landed a couple of feet from where you were and you rushed over to him. You offered him your hand and quickly pulled him up.

Behind you, Harley continued firing from the stolen gun before Penguin was able to shoot it, causing it to explode in Harley’s hand. As she stepped back in shock, she bumped into TwoFace who pulled out two dual handguns. She began to back away to Ivy as you, Scarecrow and Penguin walked up to join TwoFace, weapons drawn.

“Let’s get out of here!” Ivy yelled. Harley looked behind you all only to see Joker filming the whole thing.

“No, let’s fight! Maybe Kite-Man can help!” They glanced over to where Kite-Man was and witnessed as Bane repeatedly punched him in the head while he had him in a choke-hold.

“Bane, quit dicking around with Kite-Man and get those two.”  Joker snapped.

“But he was attacking me-”

“With what, a kite? Just do as I tell you, you dumb, freakish monster!”

“Bane, why are you letting him talk to you like that?” Harley asked.

“In fact, why do any of you let him talk to you like that?” she began to raise her voice as she looked at the four of you. You all lowered your weapons and looked over to where Joker stood.

“He doesn't even have powers-”  you felt your body stiffen as you shifted your gaze down to the floor. 

“His only power is bullying you into doing what he wants. I should know, he did it to me for years.”

“Don’t listen to her! She’s nothing.” Joker protested.

“She makes a good point, I don’t like how you called me a monster” Bane interrupted him.

“Yeah that was pretty harsh” Scarecrow chipped in and looked to you as you nodded in agreement.

“Oh my God, it’s just an expression-” Joker tried to explain it away before Bane interrupted him.

“Also, let’s talk about dinner-” Bane crossed his arms. “I selected the beef well in advance and you stole it from me, you said you didn’t even want to come to this ‘stupid thing’.”

The crowd gasped.

“My thoughts exactly, this is a monumental night for young Joshua.”

“I’m the Joker, I was joking, okay? Oh my God, I’ll kill her myself.” he said, pulling out his gun and pointing it to Harley’s head, only for Ivy to stand in his way.

“Ivy, if you could just, y’know, just move so I, I can just kill your friend.”

“Absolutely- over my dead body.”

“Uhh- female friendships!” he groaned as he got ready to shoot, but Ivy’s vines suddenly sprouted up behind him and surrounded the three. 

The sudden action caused you to step back and instinctively grab onto Scarecrow’s shoulder, which caused him to freeze momentarily before melting into your touch.

Joker aimed his gun at Ivy’s head but she didn’t move a muscle as her vines closed in on him. High-pitch laughter came from his pocket as his phone rang. He began yelling into the phone about some sort of building issue with his base and ran off, but you weren't really paying attention. You looked down at where your hand was, only to notice a large red stain on his upper-arm, it took you mere seconds to realize that it was blood, his blood even. You assumed he must have knocked into something sharp when he was sent flying a couple of minutes ago. You must have looked fairly shocked, as Jonathan followed your gaze down to the wound and tried to brush your hand away.

“I-I’m fine. -really-” he started, but you only grabbed his arm and noticed a multitude of smaller blood stains all over his right side.

“Jesus, Jon, what did you land on, a pile of cutlery?” you asked, more concerned than anything else.

“Well it might as well have been.” he grumbled, quickly glancing over to the, now, broken table he had landed on.

“Right, well, let’s get you patched up.” you said, lightly tugging on his arm.

“Oh, there’s no need, honestly-” He protested before you cut him off.

“-Jonathan, there is a massive gash on your arm. Now come on, I have a first aid kit at my place.” you began leading him to the main exit.

“A-at your place?” he froze in his tracks.

“Yeah? What’s with the shocked face?” you looked back at him.

“You know I don’t bite, right?” you grinned at him. You said your goodbyes and thanked Mrs. Cobblepot for your invitation before dragging him off despite his insistence that he could just ignore it until the party was over and sort it himself.

“Look, you’ve made it clear that you don’t like it when I help but-”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I… I just didn't want to trouble you, that’s all!” That answer came a little too fast for you to fully believe it but you thought it would be best to drop the subject as it clearly flustered him.

As the two of you walked out into the warm summer night you loosened your grip on his upper-arm and let your hand glide down his arm and wrap around his wrist, not daring to go the full mile and hold his hand, though you could swear you saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes as you did. As the two of you stepped into the parking lot and found your car, Scarecrow cleared his throat.

“[Name]?” he glanced over at you as he got into the passenger's side seat.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s okay if I stay the night, innit’? It’s just that my hideout is on the other side of the city and it’s already really late-”

“Well as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, then sure.” you said as you pulled out of the parking space and onto the main road.

“Cheers, luv.” 

 What followed after that was near miss with an oncoming truck and your face becoming a bright red colour as your brain temporarily short-circuited. You looked over to make sure Jonathan was alright, only to see him gripping onto the seat like his life depended on it. 

“Jesus- if you don’t like me calling you that then you can just say so- Bloody hell!” 

“It’s not that, it’s just-” Your brain was working at 100 mph trying to talk your way out of this because: God- did you love the way he called you that. Unfortunately for you, he quickly caught on and was going to give you hell.

“Oh so you like me calling you ‘luv’, then?” The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk as he noticed the massive blush on your face. 

“Wh- no- that’s not what I meant!”

“Sure thing, luv.” His smirk had turned into an ear-to-ear grin as he saw your face turn an even darker shade of red. This just elicited a loud, frustrated groan from you.

“I swear to God- do you want me to crash this car!” you snapped at him, smacking your hand off the steering wheel, which was only met with laughter as you yelled a string of expletives.

“You wouldn’t do that.” he stated, still giggling to himself.

“What makes you so sure of that?” You scoffed but you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when you saw the dorkiest grin on his face.

“You care about me.” He teased, resting his head on the back of his hands.

“Shut up.” You lightly punch his shoulder.

 You tried to cover up the growing smile on your face with your free hand but failed as Jonathan noticed and pulled your hand down from your face, unintentionally encasing your hand in his. It took you both a while to realize it but once you did his hands immediately shot back to his sides and didn’t look at you for the rest of the car journey instead opting to twiddling his thumbs.

“We’re here.” you called, snapping him out of his daze.

You stepped out of your car and into the apartment block. Seeing as you were both still in costume, you darted for the elevator and hit the button. As the elevator began its ascension you  took this opportunity to take a breather, knowing you would have to leg it to your apartment at the very end of the hallway lest someone see you and call the police. You sighed and leaned against the railing while looking at your reflection in the mirror but you couldn’t help noticing the way Scarecrow straightened the noose around his neck as if it was a tie. For fucks sake, if this keeps up you might just lose it. He met your gaze in the mirror and grinned at you.

“I mean, if you want to watch you can just look at me, it’s less creepy.” he chuckled but suddenly stopped as he winced in pain and grabbed his arm. You straightened yourself and rushed to his side. Luckily, you’d reached your floor and as the doors opened you grabbed Jonathan by the wrist and led to your apartment. You quickly looked around before inserting your key into the door, as you fumbled with the key, Jonathan remained eerily quiet compared to his usual gossipy self. You finally got the door to open and the two of you walked into the empty apartment. You felt about for the lightswitch and eventually found it.

“You go sit down, I’m just going to get the first aid from the bathroom.” you gesture towards the couch and walk off. You rummaged around for a bit, eventually finding it at the very back of the cupboard, you checked it’s contents to make sure you had the right stuff. You made your way into the living room and found Jonathan holding a book you’d left out on the coffee table earlier. He looked up at you and then the first aid kit in your hands.

“Right.” you started, taking out a few bandages. “Show me your arm.” After a few minutes of struggling he managed to roll up his sleeve and outstretched it to you. You gently took his hand and sat down next to him. You, deciding that it was probably best to treat the biggest cut first, took out an antiseptic wipe and lightly dabbed the wound Jonathan winced at this but a soft smile from you seemed to help.

“[name]?” He took a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for looking out for me. I know I can be… difficult at times -but I really appreciate you dragging me here instead of leaving me to bleed out at the party.” he laughed nervously and averted his gaze from you.

“You're probably one of the closest friends I’ve ever had.” his voice cracked slightly.

You slightly cringed at the word ‘friends’, well, I suppose you better get comfy in the friend-zone. He swallowed and returned his arm to his side before continuing.

“A-and I’d like to be more than that-” he sputtered, beginning to fiddle with the ends of his noose. 

“You… would?” you looked up at him, your heart feeling like it would burst out of your chest if it beated any faster than it already was.

“Yes.” he grabbed your hands and put them between his.

“I like you- a lot! I like your eyes, your face, the way you always know how to make me laugh” he snapped out of his daze.

“-But, I mean if you don’t feel the same way I completely understand, actually on second thought this was a horrible idea and you probably don’t so I’ll just leave and save you the trouble of kicking me out, like you should-” you could hardly keep up with the word vomit coming out of his mouth as he shot out of his seat.

“I’m sorry, I’ve probably wasted your time ‘cause you probably only see me as a friend and I’ve most likely just ruined our friendship so I’ll just leave and I swear you’ll never have to see me again so-” he made a break for the door but you quickly yanked on his wrist which almost caused him to fall backwards.

 He caught himself just in time but was beginning to wish he’d just fallen to the floor instead as he realized he was using you to support himself and had wrapped his arms around your neck. He tried to push himself away, only for you to snake your arms behind his waist and trap him there. You could practically feel the warm air of his breath on you skin as he panted, you could feel yourself melting into his arms and did not stop him as he squeezed you tight. After a few moments, you managed to sit him back onto the couch.

“I want to be more than friends too.” you spoke softly, not missing the ear-to-ear grin on Jonathan’s face.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, he froze up for a split-second before wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“So, how far off was I?”

“Hmm?” you looked up at him.

“Remember earlier? When I said I saw you giving me looks?”

You gave an exasperated sigh and smirked.

“Was it Bane or TwoFace who had to point it out to you?”

“Both.” he answered with a slight laugh.

“But you’re not denying it!” 

“Why would I, you were doing the exact same thing?” you scoffed, giving him a light punch on the arm.

“Oww- okay, okay, fair point.” he laughed as he pulled you back close to him, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes and behind your ear.

“Y’know, if you were anyone else I would’ve killed you” you only half-joked, tracing shapes with your fingers onto his chest.

“I know” he laughed, placing a hand under your chin and lightly lifting it so you two were making eye-contact.

“-And that's what I lo-” he cut himself off. “I mean, like about you” he smiled sheepishly.

You only smiled before cupping his face and pulling him closer.

“I love you too, you fucking dork” you chuckled before leaning in and kissing him.

He practically jumped out his skin when you did, but as the realization sunk in he wrapped both arms around you and kissed back, eyes fluttering shut. His lips pressed softly against yours, as one of his hands travelled up your back and cupped the back of your head. The kiss itself was very soft and didn’t last too long, maybe only a couple of seconds, but to you it felt like an eternity. Your lips finally parted when you both were in desperate need for air, but that dazed look on his face made you want to do it all over again.

“You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that.” you smiled up at him.

“Same here” he added, before quickly pulling you back in for another kiss.

#harley quinn 2019 #scarecrow #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #dc comics x reader #harley quinn 2019 scarecrow

[brawltogethernow]

I suppose the next step then is "BBC Merlin but it's SpideyTorch"

Oh my god. TEACHER, TEACHER, SHE’S TARGETING ME okay okay uh.

Peter, secret warlock, goes to Camelot with his mother figure, May, who does not know about the warlock thing because it kicked in when he was a teenager and they both strategically decline to tell each other things. Gaius is Reed, who was the court sorcerer and is now the court scientist. (He’s not an old man except spiritually where he has been a senile professor since he was 19.) He literally didn’t change anything he was doing, considering science and magic as different points on one spectrum anyway-- No. That’s Doom’s schtick. DOOM was the court sorcerer, and was fired. He is upset about it. Reed is just a science guy but worked extensively with Victor, so he’s kind of useful, but not as useful as Peter was hoping.

I know very little about Sue and Johnny’s dad except that he’s a supervillain who...faked his death, revealed himself, and then died for real like 12 hours later? Did he also fake his wife’s death at some point? Would he do a mad king magic ban thing? Idk but for plot purposes we’ll say yes. They conveniently already share Arthur’s dead mom syndrome. Maybe their aunt whose name is different depending on what issue you’re reading is also here just to convolute the court drama. Wait no didn’t Arthur have a shady uncle show up after like five seasons. She.

Peter is very talented at finicky, specific magical formulas. (Reed: :) )But in practice he really prefers to just slam out a big wave of power, and if that doesn’t solve the problem, repeat until it does. (Reed: :( ) He gives this a go at the beginning of sorting out any problem, like restarting your glitching computer, and if it doesn’t work the problem is complicated enough to be an episode plot.

So obviously I’m still gonna do secret identity shit? Peter saves the young prince and heir’s life and is rewarded with a second job; he only came here for job reasons and you’re all lucky he doesn’t turn down paying jobs otherwise he’d be having some words with the king. Peter also accidentally becomes a masked vigilante out in the town. His very existence is illegal because he’s obviously doing magic! They keep sending his boss out to hunt him down, and their eyes are always locking dramatically and shit in brief silent stare-offs from opposite ends of the street in thunder storms at sunset until Johnny’s horse rears and breaks the eye contact causing Peter to snap out of it and flee. You know how it is.

Sue is older than Johnny and thus older than the magic ban, so she responded to it by going “:) That’s nice, Dad” and socking away a bunch of books before they could go on the fire, and now she’s just a sorceress on the dl. This is approx. a first season finale reveal, because her real superpower is being able to keep her mouth the hell shut. I literally cannot with how nobody in Merlin ever exchanges information, so shortly after Peter and Reed learn this they exchange secrets, like sane people, which opens up their resources a bit.

That said Sue is an extra legitimate royal, not the Morgana equivalent. Maybe Gwen should be Gwen, especially since I have thought Gwen/Johnny/Peter has potential since reading Spider-Man/Fantastic Four (which if you read an earlier ask, I recommend if you want to see new art of Gwen being mean in hair clips). But Peter/Gwen and Merlin/Freya are like...same energy except the latter wasn’t as well done. And Merlin’s Guinevere honestly more reminds me of Betty. Morgana--

(wheeze)

(cough)

Okay I thought this trying to reconcile as much of the cast as possible and I now can’t unthink it so. The king’s ward is Dorrie Evans. Yes she goes nebulously sapphic evil witch queen. Sure she was an unpleasant teenager and readers hate her, but you know what, I’ll simp, whatever. Let Dorrie poison some people. In a cape. This feels natural to me. Also Betty Brant and Dorrie Evans???? Betty/Dorrie vibes???? I guess!!!!

So like. The thing where Arthur gets mystically whammied by love potions once a month, except also Johnny’s normal relationship-anticipating giddiness happening organically mixed in, the part before he actually starts dating someone and becomes immediately depressed. Peter is in the bg sarcastically dismissing magical incidents saying he can’t even tell the difference, and Reed is like 😬 Please Check Anyway. Peter’s not, haha, Peter’s not jealous, Johnny is just an idiot, and, okay maybe Peter is a little jealous! But it doesn’t matter because the prince is going to marry some noble and--

Reed: Prince Johnathan is a bit like a little brother to me, so Please Stop Telling Me About Your Problems.

Reed/Sue is reciprocated but on permanent hold for class reasons. Spideytorch is in the same boat except they’re also stupid and working it out by dating their way through the whole country, except Peter is actually into that and Johnny is not.

The dragon is...Ezekiel?????? That’s the right level of wise wry mentor who’s very shady and will kill you, so he’s a dragon now. And when he tells Peter he’s the (other) chosen one, Peter full stop doesn’t believe him. This disbelief goes on extensively. Peter is not a fate-oriented person. Johnny would love to hear about the fate thing, but no one will tell him.

Literally I’m just going to add more chronologically unmoored medievalish shit to Merlin now to cram more of the cast in. There’s some kind of town crier/herald outfit, and Jonah is their boss. He’s just out in the road yelling sometimes even though he can delegate that. The buglers otherwise known as Bugle staff named Peter’s vigilante persona the Spider, which was supposed to sound menacing but is in practice also cool. This is out-of-universe fairly equivalent to Merlin’s real name as a neat two-syllable animal word and possible title. In-universe maybe I’d elbow out Emrys and just use this. Merlin is already very servants-don’t-work-like-that, so Betty just also has two jobs for no reason so she can knock elbows with them.

MJ is the court jester and knows absolutely everything, which is a dramatic mid-game reveal that isn’t exactly foreshadowed so much as always possible while carefully obscured from the viewer (the reader). Before this she’s already a Wise Fool, Shakespeare-ways archetype character, it’s just not clear how much. She is the most important character in Homestuck Merlin Spider.

Every ship is real for at least 30 seconds. Most of the extended FF cast are either magical antagonists or weird nobles.

Ben????? (Grimm, I mean. Ben Parker is dead. Ben Reilly is a recurring episodic plot.) This show was painfully formulaic and would simply not keep someone with any version of his deal in the main cast, but he’s a full quarter of the FF so. A magical accident approximated his rock body deal. Maybe specifically tying him to ~the magic of the land~. And then, uh. Wandering the country is too satellite-like. Hiding out in a forbidden castle wing is interesting but doesn’t do him justice. So I guess it’s a come and go semivoluntary transformation thing that’s kept secret? Rock werewolf. Were-rock. Good opportunity to fake out like you’re going to do a monster of the week plot, and then he contributes to the tension to abolish the magic ban.

Knights?? Wyatt is there from the beginning, being tall and reassuring (holding a sword edition). Not sure how him or his immediate ancestors got to Europe and then ended up this involved with the local nobility, but it was probably exciting. And Flash, or he’s an early addition. Either way he’s from the same village as Peter and is approximately White’s Kay, except directed at the wizard instead of the future king, and otherwise you can completely superimpose their comic dynamic including the fanboying over the secret identity angle, which is entertainingly seditious. ...Others. I don’t know enough FF characters for this. I’ve accidentally implied the eventual addition of Bennet Brant, but his evil sorcerer of the week energy is very strong, so maybe not. Randy eventually because I already implied the Robertsons and can see it.

This is so long, covers nothing, and explains none of the namechecks. Using both these characters’ franchises in one fusion is too much stuff. I keep not talking about the core relationship because it’s just. Like That. I don’t feel like I need to elaborate on the Merthur dynamic, even transposed on a different ship. It’s Just Like That.

#merlin #spiderman #fantastic four #spideytorch #bbc merlin #spidey #ff #marvel #phoenixyfriend #asks answered

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E98 (March 10, 2020)

Be warned: there are spoilers for the most recent episode below!

Tonight’s guests are Ashley Johnson and Travis Willingham!

Announcements: On Monday at 7 PM Pacific, there will be a special Doom: Eternal one-shot! VOD will be on YouTube on Wednesday. We’re one week away from the release of the new campaign book, Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount!

Episode 98: Dark Waters

Stats! 124 days passed between the Nein’s voyages at sea. It’s been 77 days since Fjord’s pact was broken. Fjord took 40% of the damage taken by the Nein and the crew (Yasha took second-most at 21%).

What’s it like RPing dream sequences with Matt? Ashley: “It gives me the fear.” They both agree it’s a panic feeling first, and then you get excited to see where he’ll go. Travis: “All cognizant thought goes out the window.” Ashley feels like she rushes it sometimes to avoid keeping the attention on her too long, and Travis dreads the open-ended questions: “What do you do?”

This is the first time Travis has had to wait a week to find out if his character will be revived. “Aside from analyzing the fight, it’s been okay, just because we’ve got two dope-ass clerics who feel pretty strongly about Fjord, so I hope we’re in a good place.” He’s mostly concerned about the intangibles and what they don’t know. He didn’t know the orb was still in him---he thought it was destroyed or reset when he threw away the sword. He’s worried that if they try “the normal cleric stuff”, it’s not going to work. He does almost prefer fights that are just dropped on them out of nowhere, because the anticipation is often the most stressful part.

Ashley’s still not sure if she has the feathers or not, since that was in a dream. “Building the character, I didn’t know that would be a possibility for that to change.” It’ll have to come out in the game. “Outside of that, I think-- obviously there’s a lot of healing with the group, but I think in terms of Yasha’s relationship with the Storm Lord, she’s still figuring that out. It’s very tough love, which she’s getting the tough love from the Storm Lord and the familial and kindness and love from the Mighty Nein. So that combo is going to be really good for her to turn things around. I don’t think she’s ever really had a feeling of worthiness outside of maybe being loved by Zuala. So I don’t know what that looks like for her yet, but we’ll see. I think she doesn’t fully know what her purpose is yet.”

Did Travis anticipate a confrontation with Uk’otoa back on the sea? “No, I’m a fucking moron. I didn’t think of that at all! I don’t have anything the ol’ snea snake wants anymore.” Brian: “Yes you do!” Travis: “I didn’t know that!” Dani: “The dark seed of power in you the Wildmother saw?” Travis: “I thought it was metaphorical! Well, now that you say it like that...” He wasn’t upset at all. “More than anything I was just trying to plan my branch narrative for what was going to happen next. More than anything, it became clear that they had just massive intent to come and kill me. I mean, Matt played it beautifully, so even in moments where I was disappointed in myself, like forgetting that enemy characters can hold their turns.”

Cosplay of the Week: a dramatic cape-flaring Fjord! (Ming.of.mings, photo by Rsellos, makeup by Omglobnunu, all on Instagram)

Travis: “The thing that hit me the most was when it came over and it grabs Fjord’s body and starts to walk him off the side of the ship, I was like, Mercer, what the fuck, man! I’m already dead! Give me a second!” He notes that they haven’t done a resurrection ritual yet in this campaign, only revivifies. Losing the two death saves when getting stabbed while unconscious was the moment when he realized how significant the intent was here. Everyone notes how clutch the Counterspell was.

On Jester and Beau showing concern for Yasha’s wellbeing: “I think for a lot of people, sometimes accepting compliments makes you uncomfortable. I’m one of those people. It’s a weird thing for Yasha to hear, because even in her tribe it’s not like that was a normal way of communicating with each other. Only compliments she would have gotten about how she looks or her character as a person were from Zuala. I think, especially with Jester, she’s such an open character that has so much love to give, just bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, just refreshing to be around, they’re all teaching Yasha very, very positive ways to feel and accept that.”

They talk about the way the improvisation can lead to poetic parallels like Yasha and Fjord falling/rising. Ashley: “I feel like so much of that is Matt, and he’s such a masterful storytelling.” Travis: “It’s such a gift, too. He’s giving you something new in the story that you created, and so you have instant ownership of this thing he made just for you.” Ashley: “You just hope you can meet him where he’s at.”

On Yasha’s harp: “Music is a very huge part of my life. I’m using the harp as, yes, for self-care for her, but also I think music can be a form of therapy. There was a moment where I was like, man, it would be so fun to multiclass as a bard, but then I remembered my wisdom is so low... it wouldn’t work. And I actually had talked to Matt about it. There’s more that I want to explore with that, and I don’t quite know what it is yet. I think where it sits right now, it’s a form of therapy for her. I’d been wanting to give her positive things to do to try to pull her out of this place that she’s in, and I think it’s really helpful.”

Seeing the sword again: “I think more than anything, it just unsettled Fjord. There was nothing about that that was easy to adapt to: seeing the sword, and then seeing multiples of the sword, just wondering who is this, what do they have, do they have abilities, what am I missing, how much do I not know about it?” He was initially worried that it was Avantika come back to life.

Fan Art of the Week: Caleb, Caduceus, and Fjord during the fight! (CreativeBleu on Twitter)

On Yasha having a lot of run-ins with creepy people: “I think a lot of that is because of the way I rolled the character, I rolled really low for Yasha’s stats, which is a bummer. She’s very susceptible because of that to being swayed, as we have noticed with Obann and things that have happened in her past. That’s maybe something that she puts out there, where people pick up on that. There’s obviously still and probably will always be a bit of darkness in her. I think people like Icky-thong and Lord Sharpe and people like that can pick up on it. I wanted to play a character like that anyway, I wanted to play somebody with a little darkness in there. I do think it is a source of frustration for her, and that’s where a lot of the guilt comes from.”

Has piecing together Caleb’s past changed Fjord’s opinion of him? “No, not at all. Maybe it’s just me, but seeing how much pain Caleb carries with himself from his past-- if he was flippant about it, that might give him pause, but he’s so fucking tortured about it. He can’t harbor any ill-will or confusion about where his heart lies. He’s full of regret, there’s a real person in there. I think also Fjord is like, I don’t want to be defined by my past, it really, really sucked. Every day since Fjord started with the M9 has been continually the best days of his life, and I think the same is probably true of Caleb. There’s no judgment because that doesn’t help anything. He just want to observe, absorb, acknowledge. You’re making positive changes, and that’s everything. That’s heroic, despite what you think is monstrous. That’s not who I see.” Brian talks about how life can end “when you choose to be defined by your worst moment”. Travis: “People that chain themselves to their past obviously haven’t moved beyond that past, and that process looks different for everyone.” But he believes you should get to define who you are after you’ve moved past that.

On the few new lighthearted moments with Yasha: “I think it’s the comfortability of the people around her. I think it’s just getting more comfortable with everybody, and also it’s just... I don’t know. If I think of something that I think would be funny, I’ll probably say it, but try to keep it in whatever Yasha’s sense of humor would be.” She notes some similarities to Grog. “She’s absolutely a teddy bear on the inside. She sees so much beauty in the world. I love playing those contradictions. She’s always had a sense of humor.”

How does Fjord define being a “good man” now as opposed to the start of the campaign? Initially, it was Vandren: “tough love, not overly emotional, not really available in that way, but conveyed a strong sense of leadership, knows what he wants, is focused, driven, stalwart, dependable, a lot of those bullshit male ideas. Some have value and some are just misplaced. If you try to live up to the idea of somebody else, you’re often going to find yourself going down a path that doesn’t look very familiar. Fuck it, I’m going to be me and see what that is. He’s got the agency. Maybe you just try and be you and hope that’s a good man.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Xhorhassian Castle Strategy: A Shadowgast fanfic

Shout out to the ETFC. I swore I wasn't going to write this...and then we had such an amazing conversation that I just had to write this because of the vibes. The Queen's Gambit is a great show on netflix about chess...which I know nothing about and I just figured since that there are no rules for the dnd equivalent dragonchess so I could do whatever I wanted lol. This is really here for the vibes.

Enjoy! Read on AO3 The hotel was a swanky joint, one of the most expensive hotels in all of the Dwendalian Empire. Essek didn’t have much use for the light and the noise...it wasn’t like they were trying to make anything easier for him and he wouldn’t have asked regardless. However, once they all got past the formal stilted manner of most Empire competitions during the actual playing, the after-affairs tended to be rather convivial and light-hearted. Most players knew each other from circuits and practice and other competitions, so it wasn’t too surprising to see players who had just been engaged in tough matches to reach each other and ask to meet up for dinner or a drink.   Essek, as a rule of thumb, couldn’t be bothered with those kinds of things and didn’t really know anyone besides. After all, he was the only Dynasty dragonchess player who had been invited to the tournament...and it had been done out of obligation rather than a sense of sportsmanship. You couldn’t claim to be running the “Dragonchess World Championship” without the top players from across the world...even if they were your political enemies. Essek was sure they would have rather had Adeen (who had come in last or second to last in the past five World Championships) just to save their glorious Empire sense of superiority. But Essek had trounced him months ago so decisively that Adeen had gone to “find himself and his play style” out in whatever backwater Greying Wildlands hovel that artists went to go and starve for their creative vision in. And so, Essek had been invited and now was on track to win. There was only one final obstacle in his path.  The Zemnian was there with the others, milling about after the day adjourned. He had finished his game quickly. Though Bryce was known for their elegant and thoughtful play on the board they got discouraged quickly. The Zemnian had made quick work of them as soon as he smelled discomfort. Brash and bold on the board, cocky almost to a fault in contrast with his placid demeanor-he played to win and was out for blood every time. He had smashed through Bryce’s defence almost instantaneously the minute the other had faltered. Essek, though he wouldn’t like to admit it, had a much harder time with Beauregard Lionett. She was the opposite of the Zemnian. Though her personality was all bluster and edges, she played a precise and precocious game-was flexible and agile upon the board. It was like trying to capture a swallow-though in the end, she had been cornered and forced to submit through gritted teeth. 

Essek made his quick escape up to his room, not wanting to be pulled into an obligatory conversation or useless pleasantries. For a while, he lay on the couch and let the tension seep out from his back. When he played he often felt numb to everything but his thoughts. It was wonderful and freeing and exhilarating. However the minute he stopped playing he would feel his stress pounding in his ears...locking up his jaw and neck and joints. It was like a residual pain that haunted his body and he did his best to just block it out. In his mind, the moves echoed there like footsteps. He could almost ignore the pain when he focused on them. Clicking into place in a rhythm of the clock and-

“Essek? We’re back,” Verin said as the door opened and revealed him and his mother. It startled Essek, but it shouldn’t have. His brother had never had a good sense of privacy. Verin set a bottle of water by the table for him, and Essek took it and swung himself into a seated position despite the complaints in his muscles. “Well? Congratulations on making it to the finals.”   “He was watching me again,” Essek sighed as he took a sip of his water and not having any time for his empty congratulations considering his only real challenge was ahead. Essek would only accept congratulations when he won. Which he would, of course, but still. He eyed his notebook where he had written down his notes the dragonchess matches from that day. He should have been studying his only real competition’s moves, he should have been mentally preparing, but the only thing he could think of was his eyes. Blue and piercing and digging into his thoughts. It was infuriating if he was being honest.  “Who?” Verin asked curiously, tipping his head to the side.  “The Zemnian,” Essek said, annoyed that he even needed to clarify.  “Why?” Verin asked, still clueless as ever. Essek tried to breathe his irritation out and settle his mind. Victory only came when your mind was as still as a pool, it was an old proverb that Leylas Kryn liked to say to him.  “He unnerves me,” Essek admitted. 

“Oh please,” his mother, Deirta sighed from where she was lounging, dramatically draping herself as if she had no time for his concern. “You don’t really believe he will beat you, do you?” 

“The reason I dislike you mother is because you are so incapable of surprise. You lack imagination. I know I don't,” Essek said as he got up with a huff, unable to be in the room with them any longer or else he was going to kill them. And he couldn’t do that...he needed them to get home.  “I’m going to get a drink.” 

His mother threw her hands in the air but let him leave from the hotel room they were occupying. He got a few looks from people as he walked down the hallway but didn’t pay them any mind. Drow weren’t a usual sight in the Empire, and he knew he had a reputation. Essek Thelyss, the young upstart dragonchess prodigy-representative of the hope of thousands of others to break through and make the Empire bend the knee in any way they could. Personally, Essek could do without it all. He wanted-no, he needed to win to satisfy his vanity and ego. But he didn’t care about the hopes of his country. Honestly, it was exhausting to pretend he did. But he didn’t want to lose, and if he didn’t want to lose then he had to put up appearances so the Dynasty would bankroll his way to competitions. 

He stood in the elevator, the other tenants hoping off on the way down. In his mind he replayed the game in his mind and visualized the moves of the game. Barbarian to C5, Monk to 4D-then the Archmage Reversal formation. If he had just put the Rogue in an offensive decision the game probably would have been decided three moves sooner- The elevator opened, and the Zemnian stood for a minute. His face was a study of surprise, as he blinked rapidly at him. Essek felt his back straighten as he held his head high and refused to give the Zemnian more than a cursory nod of greeting. The Zemnian walked in, looked at the button for the lounge that Essek had already pressed, and then stood a few steps away from him. Essek for a minute closed his eyes and tried to breathe, refusing to look at the Zemnian. The pressure in the air could have made Essek’s ears pop-the weight of his attention chafed against his flesh like cheap fabric and almost made him squirm. 

“The opening was surprising for you,” the Zemnian finally said. His voice was much quieter than Essek had expected. Essek was sure he had heard him speak in interviews before, but it was still a surprise. “You prefer the Xhorhassian Castle Strategy.”

 “Beauregard Lionett is a student of Grandmaster Dairon,” Essek said, insulted by the insinuation and folding his arms over his chest. “Expositer’s Gambit. Only an idiot would play Xhorhassian Castle against a Monk lead. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes as Obann.” 

“You studied her game against Obann?” the Zemnian asked, a quiet reflective surprise in his voice. Essek refused to turn his head and look at him. He didn’t want to see him-see his blue eyes or his rugged jaw or the lines in his face. 

“A decisive and well played match,” Essek said curtly. “I make it a habit to work through all of my competitors’ matches, no matter how unknown or new they are.”  “I see.”  “I know you see, you’ve been watching me,” Essek said as he watched the elevator buttons continue to light up as it moved down. Surely this was the longest conversation of his entire life and he was going to personally murder whoever had built this elevator for forcing him into it. “I imagine you were doing the same.”  “Of course,” The Zemnian said, and Essek was glad he didn’t bother to deny it. Essek could feel his gaze digging into his neck and it made him want to swat at his own skin.  “If you want to enjoy staring at me longer, it may be worth your time to invest in a photo,” Essek said, tapping his foot at the elevator that hit the floor before their destination. He couldn’t hide his irritation.“I have quite a few good ones in the Dynasty Times.”  “I know...I’ve seen them,” the Zemnian said. Essek refused to flush or flinch, and clenched his jaw so tight he was sure he was about to crack a tooth.  “Of course you have,” Essek said with a controlled sigh as the elevator finally hit the floor and opened. Essek took a few steps out only to turn and see the Zemnian reaching out his hand. Essek stared at him. He couldn’t have been more surprised if the Zemnian had grown a second head and started singing Marquesian folk songs. 

“I was going to meet with my friends,” he said, his expression was soft-like Essek was a slightly feral creature he was trying to soothe. “We were going to go over the matches so far. Would you like to accompany me?” 

“You mean my matches,” Essek said, unable to help narrowing his eyes. His hand returned to his side in response. “With who? Beauregard Lionett? Veth Brenatto? Jester Lavorre?”

 “As well as Fjord and Caduceus,” he said with an almost-smile. “Is it not practice in the Dynasty to do the same?” 

Essek almost grimaced. It was standard practice for groups of skilled dragonchess players to go over games and sequences and practice together. Essek never did. Standard practice to be bogged down by old players stuck in their old ways, to be told you were too young or too ambitious or too reckless or too careful. There was nothing to be learned from such sessions that you couldn’t learn on your own or from just watching. 

“Dragonchess is an individual affair,” Essek reminded him. “At the end of the day, you and I are going to face each other alone. I’ll win on my own terms.” 

“I played like that before, but I find this way more enjoyable,” he said with a tinge of humor to his tone. 

“I know you did, back when you had a different name and a different circle you ran with,” Essek said simply. “Your play style hasn’t changed too drastically-you always were a stickler for the scorched earth tactic no matter how you like to present yourself.” 

“My name is Caleb Widogast,” the Zemnian told him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“It doesn’t matter to me what you call yourself-Nine Hells, you could call yourself King Dwendal and it would make no difference to me,” Essek told him. “My only request is you meet me on the board at your best tomorrow. Show me the best you can do. If I wanted to beat a player like any of your friends, I would just play them again.” 

“That’s a big request coming from the youngest Xhorhassian Grandmaster in history,” Caleb said with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth where Essek was definitely not looking. 

“Said the youngest Zemnian Grandmaster in history,” Essek pointed out with a roll of his eyes. 

“Have a good evening, Herr Thelyss,” he said with a look that Essek refused to register as something deeper. Their eyes met, and for just a single moment Essek wondered how it would feel to be seen like that all the time. But the thought was fleeting. After all, victory came from clarity...and his greatest clarity was only found in solitude. 

“Have a good evening, Mr. Widogast,” Essek said quietly, not for an instant feeling regretful. 

And so they parted ways without a single look back. After all, Essek had his eye on the prize.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #shadowgast fanfic #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #queen's gambit au #dragonchess

[temult]

Nott the Best Confidant (everyone loves jester, nott pov)

Nott has a series of Significant Conversations in a rather short amount of time, and she’s not really sure what to do about them.

First is the conversation with Beau. Sure, she was skeptical of the idea of exchanging secrets (she didn’t really see the point, honestly) but she had to admit that it felt rather nice to be trusted with Beau’s crush. That someone came to her for advice, even with her looking like she does and everything. And it was nice to get her feelings off her chest, too. It was probably easy for Beau to trust her, though, what with how good she is at keeping secrets.

A few days later, Nott is still debating how she’s going to get Jester to fall dramatically into Beau’s arms, and wondering if Jester is still caught up in her crush on Fjord and if she has even really thought about her sexuality, or if that was something Nott was going to have to introduce from scratch. There’s a lot of work to be done, basically, which is why she doesn’t mind taking first watch as the group settles down for the night. She’s already halfway into planning how to bring up women and the concept of seeing them romantically when she notices Fjord hasn’t gone to sleep with everyone else and is, instead, making his way towards her.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, gesturing next to Nott.

She shrugs, still rather preoccupied with her previous train of thought. Maybe she could find a romance novel featuring two women, and see if Jester seems into it? That might be a good idea—  

“Can I ask you something?” Fjord’s crisp, posh voice cuts through her reverie. 

“Hm? Oh, sure. What’s up?”

He looks down, picking at some grass next to him for a moment before he speaks. “Do you think— Have you seen— I mean, you’re pretty close to—”

“Good gods, Fjord. Spit it out.”

He huffs a laugh. “Okay. Okay, this is a sort of strange question. But I don’t know, I think maybe you can offer some insight. If someone were to compliment you and flirt with you often — like, saying you’re quite pretty and stealthy and reassuring you about stuff you worry about — that’s not very platonic, is it? Or could someone be doing that just to be friendly?”

Oh.

Suddenly, Fjord has all of Nott’s attention. “Are you asking me about Jester?”

She could’ve sworn his cheeks got a little darker, even in the dim light of their camp. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground. “Well, yeah. I guess. She— You’ve noticed it too, of course. She flirts with me and tells me I’m handsome and strong and that my tusks are growing in well.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And, well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the attention. And how her cheeks go purple when I flirt back. But I just— I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up if that was just how she shows her friendship.”

Oh. Oh, okay. Nott needs to play this very, very carefully. On one hand, she’s pretty sure Jester’s crush on Fjord has been fading recently (something she had been planning to use to her advantage to get Beau and Jester together) but at the same time, it’s not like she could lie to Fjord and say Jester has only ever seen him as a friend. Right?

Nott decides to be mostly honest, without outing anyone’s confidence in her. She is an excellent secret keeper, after all.

“Well, Jester is a pretty affectionate person to everyone, especially to our little group. She calls Beau and Yasha strong as well, and blushes when anyone responds to her flirting. Did you see how flustered she got when Beau winked at her?”

Fjord is frowning a little, eyes still on the ground. “Right.”

Nott sighs. “But I have to admit she does seem to flirt with you the most, out of everyone. I think that, no matter Jester’s feelings on the subject, you would have to consider how you feel about her. You can’t choose to like someone just because they flatter you. And you can’t choose to immediately stop liking someone just because they don’t feel the same way. So: what do you think?”

Fjord glances at Nott, before going back to fidgeting with the grass. “I mean— Well— She’s really quite remarkable, right? And she’s so fun, and clever, and she makes me feel better about myself which is a feat I would’ve thought impossible until I met her, honestly. And— I kissed her cheek that one time, kind of on impulse, but, Wildmother save me, her surprise was so cute I could’ve screamed.”

Nott nods sympathetically. “Plus, there’s the time you gave her her first kiss, remember?”

Fjord’s eyes snap to hers. “That was her first kiss?”

Oh, fuck. So much for keeping secrets. “What? No! Who said that? You’re hearing things, Tusktooth.”

“Shit, I didn’t even know. Gods, and then I didn’t even talk about it with her after! I just thought I was doing what anyone would’ve done to save her. I hadn’t even thought of it as a kiss. Shit, I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

Well, there’s no denying it now. “No, Fjord, you didn’t fuck up. I know she isn’t upset with you about it. If anything, she was happy her first kiss was such a romantic gesture from her real life Oskar.”

He laughs lightly. “I really need to read that book, huh? Maybe my way into Jester’s heart is a white pirate shirt with a low vee after all.” Fjord stands up, brushing the pieces of torn grass off of his pants. “Thank you, Nott. This was really helpful. Have a good night.”

Shit, was it? “Um, no problem. Goodnight.”

Oh gods, did she just make this already complicated situation worse? And what, if anything, is she going to tell Beau?

—

Less than a week after her conversation with Fjord, Nott is snacking on some spitroasted rat with Yasha while the party has a short, midday rest. It is the first time Nott has eaten rat since her transformation back into her Halfling body, and she is delighted that she still enjoys it.

A few yards away, Jester is reading aloud from Tusk Love to Fjord and Beau, entertaining them while they go through their workout routine. It seems like Fjord is focusing more on the book than his exercise, however, and Beau scolds him for his lack of focus, even as her gaze drifts to the tiefling more than a few times. 

Nott is staring at the three of them when Yasha speaks. “She really is quite cute, isn’t she?”

Her eyes snap to Yasha’s, whose gaze is fixed on Jester as she reads aloud, gesturing with her hands and changing her voice and facial expressions to match the characters. Gods, is she also in love with Jester? “You too?”

Yasha looks at Nott curiously. “Too?”

Shit. “Huh?”

“You said, you too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, why would I say that, that’s crazy!”

Yasha has an amused glint in her eye. “Okay.”

“I’m serious!”

“I believe you, Veth.” 

Right. Nott’s still not used to hearing her old name come from her friends’ mouths. She crosses her arms petulantly, knowing this is an argument she has lost. Anyway, she’s getting off topic, and she decides to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Do you—” Nott hates this, why does she keep ending up in this position, “Do you like her?”

“Of course I do. She’s very likeable.”

“Right.”

Yasha must notice something in Nott’s expression, because she asks: “Don’t you? Like her?”

“No!” Nott is married, and even if she wasn’t, she wouldn't want to throw her hat into this mess.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not? I have a husband!”

“Huh.” Yasha pauses, “I fear we may have had a miscommunication. Do you not like her as a friend?”

“What? Of course I do!” 

Yasha nods.

“Wait— Does that mean— When you said—”

Yasha huffs a laugh. “I am not in love with Jester, Veth. Of course, I find her adorable, and I will admit to have been charmed by her on more than one occasion. In that regard, I do understand why certain people would fall for our dear friend.”

Oh.

“Certain people?” Nott cuts her eyes to Beau and Fjord. “Do you mean—“ when she looks back at Yasha, the larger woman’s eyes are fixed over Nott’s shoulder. She follows her gaze to Caleb, who is leaning against the base of a tree, nose deep in a book.

Wait, what?

Yasha seems to notice Nott’s shocked expression. Her own eyes widen. “Wait, did you not mean—”

“What?” Nott’s voice is shrill now, even more than usual.

“Um, I meant—” It is Yasha’s turn to be flustered. “I was just looking at— For no reason— Uh, um—”

Nott stops listening to Yasha’s panicked deflection, turning to stare at Caleb. He seems to be reading, but every now and then his eyes glance up towards the blue tiefling across the clearing.

“—And, so, yeah— It’s me, I was totally lying, I am in love with Jester and no one else is—”

Good gods, this is a lot to unpack. Nott is going to have to process this bombshell later, but first she needs to calm Yasha before the Aasimar has a stroke.

“Yasha, it’s okay. I won’t say anything.”

Yasha stops mid sentence, looking at Nott with wide eyes. “You won’t?”

“Yeah, totally. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Um, yeah. My secret.”

“Yes.” At this point, Nott is just fucking with her. “I won’t tell anyone that you are in love with her.”

Yasha clearly has no idea what to do from here. “Right. Yes, thank you. I, um, really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Nott stands up, and makes her way to the rest of the group. She does her best to keep a calm facade as they pack up, and resolves to investigate this new piece of information as soon as possible.

—

Over the next few days, Nott pays even more attention to Caleb than normal. 

She almost can’t believe she didn’t see it before: the way his eyes track her, how he turns red whenever she jokes with him, and how he seems to worry about her even more than anyone else in their little family.

Sure, she’s not perceptive like Caduceus, but she usually notices when something is right in front of her face.

Speaking of Caduceus — she needs to remember to check in with the Firbolg. She doesn’t think he is in love with Jester, but at the rate everything is going, it seems increasingly possible.

She would love to include Jester in her little investigation into Caleb’s feelings, since acting like a detective isn't the same without her, but she doesn’t think that would go over well. ‘Hey, Jester, I’m breaking practically everyone’s trust in me by telling you this, but our whole party is in love with you and I'm trying to figure out if Caleb is too! Wanna join?’

Yeah, right.

It’s less than a week after her conversation with Yasha when Nott finally decides to talk to Caleb. Her heart can’t take the tragic expression he seems to have perpetually fixed on his face lately.

Before she can get to him, however, Caduceus slides up beside her, catching her off guard.

“We are family, right, Veth?”

“What? Oh, uh, yes. Of course.”

“And family can share anything with each other, right?”

Goodness gracious, what now? “...Yes?”

“Good,” Caduceus smiles gently. “I just wanted to check in if there is anything you might want to share with me.”

“Huh?” She doesn’t think there is, unless he is referring to the comedy of errors unfolding around Jester’s romantic interests. “I’m good, I think.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Super sure, now if you don’t mind—”

“Because I’ve noticed you’ve been staring a lot at Mister Caleb.”

Oh, no.

“And I just want you to know that if you need someone to share your feelings with, I am here for you.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Caduceus, but it's not like that—”

“I’m sure,” he says, that stupid soothing smile still set on his face. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, but the offer is there.”

“No— Cad— It's really not like that!”

He is already walking away from her, casually strolling towards the front of their traveling group. Next to Caleb.

Fuck.

Now, not only can she no longer use this time to talk to Caleb alone, but she has to deal with Caduceus thinking she is in love with the wizard!

Look, she’s not going to lie. She did confess her crush on him to Beau, after all. But that was old news! She finds him handsome and wonderful, sure, and she loves him dearly, but she is married. Happily married! At this point, he is her best friend, and all she wants is for Caleb to be happy.

And for that to happen, she has to gods-damned talk to him!

—

Nott’s next opportunity to finally speak with Caleb alone arises that same day, when he offers to take first watch. She quickly jumps at the chance, and announces that she will be joining him to the group. No one seems to bat an eye, and everyone lays down to sleep in Caleb’s dome — this time a dark green color designed to blend in with the forest floor. 

The two of them take watch a few yards away from the dome so they can speak without anyone hearing. Or, at least, that is Nott’s plan — she is pretty sure Caleb must think she is insane for choosing to sit out in the cold rather than in the warm, magical shelter. Still, he sits with her anyway, without asking any questions. Because he is just — the best. Everything he does reminds her how lucky she is to have him in her life, and now she is going to repay the favor by being his confidant, whether he wants her to or not.

They sit side by side in a comfortable silence as Nott tries to figure out how to broach the topic of his feelings without revealing Yasha’s slip up. She picks at her cuticles, twisting the words in her mind to try and fit them together in just the right way.

She finally thinks she knows how to begin when Caleb asks, “Are you alright?”

Nott glances up, meeting his eyes, and finds them watching her carefully. “Oh, um. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he says, leaving it at that, never one to push her to speak when she doesn’t want to. Gods, Caleb is just the best person she knows. He and Jester deserve each other, she thinks, building up courage to speak.

“It’s just— I’ve been a little stressed lately, is all.”

Caleb nods. “That’s understandable. It is a stressful time, and you just underwent a huge change.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s not that. Well, honestly, that probably didn’t help, but. I feel like a lot of the group has been turning to me for advice since I’ve gotten my body back. And a little before that, too. I just— I want to help but I don’t know how. And,” she hesitates, unsure if this is the right way to bring this up, “I want to help you especially, you know?”

Caleb’s look of gentle understanding fades into confusion. “Help me?”

“Yes, Caleb. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

He hesitates for a moment, schooling his face into a blank expression. “I am happy, Veth.”

“I think we both know that’s not true, Caleb.”

They sit in silence for a long time after she says that, and Nott stresses that she pushed him too far. His eyes are firmly set on the moss green dome containing their friends, his expression heartbreakingly tragic.

She has almost given up, certain that they won’t be speaking more on this topic tonight, when Caleb sighs, and speaks: “I am happy. Honestly. I— I have a hard time putting it into words, and I worry a lot, but I am much happier with our little family than I had ever been before. I can only hope to be worthy of you guys, some day.”

Oh, Caleb. “You are, though. I just— I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Caleb. You are the best, kindest person I know, and you deserve the world. You are worthy of your friends, and,” she takes a deep breath, “you are worthy of love. Of— Of Jester’s love.”

Caleb goes very, very still. 

Nott plows on. “Listen, I know— I know you don’t believe me, but if you just told her— If any of you guys just let her make her own decision instead of having it be made for her, I know she could love you. I mean,” Nott laughs lightly, with a tinge of desperation, “Who wouldn’t? You are so— You’re just— You’re the best, Caleb.”

“I’m not, though.” Caleb speaks very quietly, his face hard set in the very expression she was trying to avoid. “You may have forgiven me, Veth, by some grace of the gods and the goodness in your heart but— Jester doesn’t even know about my past.” His breathing picks up, and his words seem to pour out of him for the first time since Nott has met him. “She would hate me, I just know it — she cares so much about family and rightness and balance in the universe and I—  I have only ever brought misery to the universe. Anyone else would be better for her,” it’s his turn to let out a small, pained laugh, “and it’s not like I’m the only one who has noticed her loveliness. Either of them would be better options, and I could never try to stand in the way of her happiness with them.”

For a minute, Nott isn’t sure what to say. She loves Caleb but — so much of what he just said is absurd to her. “You might think Fjord and Beau are better choices, Caleb, but that is Jester’s choice to make. How could she choose you if she doesn’t even know you are an option? And, about the other thing you said — Jester could never hate you, Caleb. She already loves you too much for that.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, after that. He just sits there silently, the same tortured look on his face, until their watch is over and Caduceus comes to relieve them. He hurries into the dome as soon as he is given the opportunity, leaving her standing by Caduceus, watching him leave.

“Looks like you guys had a pretty serious conversation,” says Caduceus, a knowing look on his face.

“Nope,” Nott says, following after Caleb, far too exhausted to deal with this at the moment, “not serious at all. Goodnight, Cad.”

“If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here!” He calls after her, and she picks up her pace.

“No need! Goodnight, Caduceus!”

“Goodnight,” Caduceus says. Just as she ducks her head into the dome, she hears him chuckle lightly to himself and add, “I sure do hope you crazy kids figure things out.”

Good gods. She does not want to deal with that. 

Anyway, she feels pretty good about the advice she gave Caleb today, and she goes to bed wondering how this mess will resolve itself in the future.

— 

Not long after, Caleb tells the rest of the party what happened with his parents. Jester is the first to respond, jumping out of her seat and holding him tightly to her. Everyone else follows soon after, and Caleb is quickly in the middle of a group hug. No matter what happens, Nott thinks, squished between Yasha and Fjord, she knows her family will make it through just fine.

#this is the first time ive written fic in so long but i was. Inspired #top table loves jester #everyone loves jester lbr #widojest #fjorester #beaujester #critical role #critical role fic #featuring high wis low int caduceus #nott the brave #veth brenatto #jester lavorre #my fic

[sexycraisinthanos]

Fishing for more notes and validation, so here’s an ROTG fic I wrote

Word count: 3,613

Warnings: None, kind of angsty near the end

Jack learns more about being a Guardian and himself

Jack chewed a piece of grass, looking at the sky. He closed his eyes, smiling.

Then something dropped on his face.

He yelped and sat up. “What the?”

“Come on, Jack. You gotta get ready.” Bunny said.

“Ready for what?”

Bunny sighed, rolling his eyes. Not in an annoyed sort of fashion, but as if he were a child being forced to go to an event he hated. “It’s the Ceremony of Spirits.”

“Let’s pretend I don’t know what that means and you pretend to explain it to me.”

He sat beside Jack, resting his chin on his paw. “It’s this big celebration we all go to. A day of peace. Kind of like a stalemate. We all just gather around, eat, drink, talk, and have fun. It sucks.”

“Well you do hate fun.”

“We gotta dress up in our ‘traditional clothes.’ Something about how it shows we’re all just people at our core. And we can’t fight anyone!” He threw his hands up. “It’s the worst! Even worse than Christmas!”

Jack laughed, standing up, looking at the clothes Bunny had thrown on his face. “So I have to wear my old clothes. Okay...wait do you wear clothes?”

“You’ll see it. Just get changed. I opened you a tunnel that’ll lead to the Hall. See you there.”

He jumped down a tunnel, leaving Jack with more questions than answers.

After looking at himself in his change of clothes, he started feeling very aware that he didn’t have shoes. He took a breath and jumped down the hole.

The hole ended in front of a large castle. A very pink castle. Jack squinted his eyes and stepped back to get a better look and slipped, nearly falling backwards.

He looked down and his head spun.

The castle was in the air, a very good distance from the ground.

Where the heck was he?

A very rough pat on the back nearly caused him to fall forward, but he caught himself.

“Jack! I was wondering if you’d gotten invitation.” North laughed. “I kid. Attendance is mandatory.”

“Hey...so I have a few questions. Where are we, what’s going on, why are we in the sky, and why is that castle pink?”

Before North could answer, Jack jerked his head, seeing Pitch approaching. He reached for his staff, but North stopped him. “Jack, this is time of peace. Pitch is welcome here.”

“This doesn’t make sense. He literally tried to kill us!”

“Oh boohoo, Frost. You’re already dead.” Pitch said.

Jack scowled and stomped up to him. “I can send you back under the bed you crawled out from.”

A gust of wind filled the air and a tall woman appeared out of a whirlwind of flowers, approaching Jack. “Jack, maybe you weren’t told, but this is a time of peace and weapons nor magic will be allowed.” She took his staff.

“Who are you?”

“Mother Nature. Sweet, darling Mother Nature.” Pitch answered in mock praise. “She’s the reason I’m here. Emily, darling, so lovely to see you. I’m sure your father misses you very much.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, saying nothing. “Jack, I’m sure you have questions.”

“Uh, yeah.” Jack said.

“This is the Ceremony of Spirits. Once a year all Spirits, good, bad, neutral, gather in a day of peace. To show that in any time of need, no matter the consequence, if we need each other, we will help one another.”

“That sounds dumb. Why are we in the air and why is the castle pink?”

“We’re in the air because Heartstrings doesn’t like company. And it’s pink because he likes pink.”

“Who’s Heartstrings?...Wait, like Cupid?”

As if waiting for a dramatic entrance, a young man swooped down, sporting large wings, pink messy hair, and a smug attitude. “Hello, loves. You must be Jack Frost. My name’s Apollo C. Heartstrings, but most people call me Heartstrings.”

“I thought Cupid was a chubby little baby with a diaper?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I hate that depiction. Why would I be a baby in a diaper? Babies don’t even know how to use a bow and arrow!”

Jack pursed his lips and backed away. A firecracker whizzed past his ear and he spun around as another one barely missed his nose. “Whoa!”

“Oh great…” Bunny groaned, walking up. “THEY’RE here.”

“Who?”

“The twins.”

“What twins?”

“The Foolery twins.”

“Foolery-?”

A colorful puff of smoke filled the area and two very colorful teenagers in very colorful jesters’ outfits appeared.

The April Fools.

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m April and this is my brother Tom.” The girl grinned.

“That is awesome.” Jack said.

“Jack Frost. Oh we heard about you. That snowstorm to get kids out of school? Classic!” Tom said, shaking his hand furiously.

Jack pulled his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket. “Um...thanks.”

“It’s time to head inside.” Mother Nature said as the rest of the guests arrived. “Leave your weapons at the door.” She side-eyed the twins and walked inside as a magical forcefield went up.

Jack looked up in awe. “I’m guessing this is how you keep magic from being used inside.”

He followed them inside and sat in a chair.

Bunny and someone who appeared to be the Groundhog were arguing over a seat, ending with her pushing him to the ground and sitting calmly in her seat.

The castle was much larger on the inside than Jack imagined.

It was probably bigger than the North Pole.

But what surprised him the most was seeing Pitch casually enjoying a conversation with a spirit covered in flowers.

He smiled a little. Maybe there could be a chance for them all to get along.

Everyone was chatting and quieted down when Mother Nature stood at the front of the room. She cleared her throat and when she spoke, Jack realized how ethereal her voice sounded. Like it was everywhere at once. It was strong and harsh, but soft and comforting at the same time. He could tell he would not want to upset her.

“Welcome. Thank you all for coming. It’s good to see that we are continuing to see your faces after all these years. The same faces mean we have the same alliances. We do have a new face here. We welcome Jack Frost, newly-appointed Guardian. This is his first time at this event.”

The spirits looked at him. He sunk in his chair, unsure of what to say.

Thankfully, the room went quiet as the doors burst open. A wind so cold even Jack shuttered filled the room. There was a heavy stomping and with each step there was a jingle of bells.

“You aren’t having a party without me, are you?” A deep, growling voice that sent shivers down Jack’s spine asked.

He turned around, seeing a large figure approaching. Hooded in a dark red cloak, frayed and tattered.

Jack stared, confused, while everyone else had stood, readying to fight. “Oh, come now, you know there’s no violence allowed at these things.”

“Who are you?” Jack asked.

The figure turned its head, looking at Jack. The figure pulled its hood down and Jack’s stomach turned.

A beast. With large horns, both broken. A human eye, glowing red, an animal eye, a sickly yellow, with a horizontal pupil. Large, sharp teeth and a crooked jaw turned into a sneer. Covered in snow white fur. Even taller than North. Just staring at him made Jack feel a sense of dread.

“Who am I?” He laughed. “Never thought I’d have to introduce myself. Nowadays I just go by Krampus. And you must be Jack Frost. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He held out his large paw.

Pitch immediately stood defensively in front of Jack. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like eating garbage cans?”

He growled lowly. “Isn’t this a time of peace? Shouldn’t I be welcome?”

“No one wants you here.”

“Oh you wound me, Pitch.” Krampus looked at Jack. “I wasn’t always a monster, you know. I used to help children. I was the first Santa. Then Man in the Moon decided to replace me. Can you imagine? Me, a loving father, replaced by a man who spent his whole life robbing and killing!” He roared, motioning to North.

“You leave now or not even the grace of the Fates will save you.” Mother Nature said.

“Why were you replaced?” Jack asked.

“Because he wanted to eat children’s souls.” Pitch said

“I wanted to discipline children so they behave more, but one wrong spell and I turn into this. What did Manny do when he saw me like this? Did he look for a way to turn me back? Or did he turn his back on me? You know what that’s like, don’t you Jack? Manny seeing you in distress and then doing nothing to help?”

Pitch pulled Jack behind him. “You will leave or we’ll roast you and turn you into a stew!”

Krampus stepped back, not taking his eyes off of Jack. “I suppose there’s always next year. Pleasure to meet you, Jack.” He bowed and disappeared in a flurry of snow.

Something in Jack almost made him run after him. Seeing him felt...familiar somehow. As if he felt safe near him.

He shook his head and looked at the others. They were all on edge and looked at Jack.

“Why was I so important to him?” He asked, looking at Mother Nature.

She pursed her lips and glanced over at another spirit who nodded, standing. He quickly walked to another room.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of us. It’s best to ignore him.” She looked to the others. “Carry on. I have to have a meeting with Time.” She turned on her heel and walked after the other spirit.

“Are you okay, Jack?” North asked.

“I’m fine...why is everyone so scared of him? He’s just another spirit.”

“Krampus is different...even bad spirits like Pitch...they still have souls. Krampus. He has none. His heart is...too consumed by dark to ever be good.”

“What happened with him?”

“I don’t know full story. I just know he tried to be stricter Santa and...did not end well.”

Jack looked at the door. Why did he want to go after him?

He stood up and flew out, ignoring everyone calling after him. 

Something was calling to him and he needed to find out what and why.

Jack scanned the area, looking for some form of a sign as to where Krampus went. 

A pull in his chest directed him towards a snowy mountain range.

As he got closer, the weather dropped, winds picked up, and snow spun in the air around him in the form of a snow storm. Both the unease and the bite of the snow were enough to make Jack lose feeling in his body. It was the first time he had ever remembered feeling cold.

He shivered, flying through the storm. There was definitely no doubt that Krampus was here. 

A strong wind knocked him out of the sky, hitting the side of a mountain. He groaned in pain, gripping the cliff face. 

This was probably a bad idea, but he had gone too far to give up. 

He took a breath and launched himself off the mountain and shielded his face with his arms. 

There it was again.

A pull in his chest. 

He looked around and saw a cave opening in the bottom of a mountainside. 

That’s where it wants me to go.

He flew down and landed in the opening. 

It appeared empty. And since he didn’t see anywhere else, Jack figured it’d be a good enough place to warm himself up.

He made his way toward the back of the cave in an attempt to get away from the storm brewing outside. 

Jack took a breath and sighed, closing his eyes. “What am I doing here?”

His head jerked up, hearing the crackle of fire deeper in the cave. He stood up and walked toward the sound. 

Smoke filled the air and Jack sighed with relief as it got warmer. 

As predicted, there was a campfire going. A rather big one. He quickly jumped, getting into a battle position when he realized Krampus was sitting a bit away, preparing some form of meat to be cooked. It was then, of course, that Jack realized that he had forgotten his staff.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you, son. Ice doesn’t work on me.” He simply said, not looking Jack’s way. “Sit. I’m just getting dinner ready.”

Jack, too stunned to say anything in response, simply sat down. Krampus slowly walked over, setting a large slab of meat onto a skillet and sitting across from Jack. 

It was silent except for the sound of the fire and the sizzle of the food cooking. 

“So what brings you here?” Krampus finally asked.

Jack opened his mouth, but found no words.

He didn’t know.

He simply closed his mouth and sighed. 

That seemed to be an acceptable answer for Krampus. He grunted in acknowledgement. 

“I see. The fancy Guardian party bore you?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I left after you did. I...just needed to...I don’t know, talk? To you. I don’t know why I’m here. Something just told me to come find you.”

Krampus nodded. “This is what they feared, I assume.”

“Feared? Why?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a monster. You’re in danger around me.”

“Then how come I don’t feel in danger?”

“Because you’re young and stupid.”

Jack pursed his lips, unsure of how to respond to that. He had been pretty foolish in the past.

“Why are you...like this?” Jack finally asked. 

Krampus laughed, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand. “Why? Writing a biography about me?”

“I...was just curious.”

Krampus took a handful of some vegetables, tossing them into the skillet with the meat and took a bite out of a carrot. “Well that’s a loaded question, I suppose. I was like you before. Human.”

“You were?”

He nodded. “Very. Had a wife. Kids. I was a hunter. Provided food for my people. Then I saved the wrong person and got stuck as Santa.”

“You were the first Santa. What happened?”

“You already know. I eat children’s souls, remember?”

“Maybe I want to hear your side of the story.”

Krampus laughed again. “Oh, there’s always only one side of the story that’s correct.”

“So it’s true then?”

“Do you think it is?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I’m not a good person, son. I’m the stuff of nightmares. Even Pitch is afraid of me. Centuries of loneliness turned me into this. I took bad children’s souls. Replaced them with good children so their parents could have the good child they wanted. Turned the bad ones into an army of underlings for me. Word spread around, Man in the Moon was furious and exiled me to this cave. Where the cold is too intense for anyone but me to survive.”

Jack said nothing. He was horrified at what he had heard. 

Stealing children’s souls to use them for his own selfish needs. 

His stomach turned a little. 

After a few more minutes of silence, Jack finally spoke. “Was that why you were turned into a…?” He was lost at what to describe him as.

“Monster?” Krampus asked.

He nodded. 

Krampus nodded. “Unfortunately, doing bad things will get you turned into a hideous beast. This is the result of the spell I created. When you create something designed to take souls, you start to lose yours slowly.”

“Why did you take the kids’ souls?”

“Well I couldn’t very well destroy their souls. That’d be cruel.”

Jack made a face, unsure if he was joking or not. 

“It started out as a way to find the best lost soul to replace my lost children.”

Jack smirked a little. “What? Couldn’t find yourself a Mrs. Claus?”

Krampus cracked a smile, but forced it back into his default scowl. “I only have room in my soul for my Mariana...Died so young...I was able to find her soul and take it before Death could. And my daughter’s...I was never able to get my son’s.”

“Why not?”

“His soul still wanders.”

“Like a ghost?”

“Of sorts.”

Jack sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “This is all a lot to understand…”

“Why did you come searching for me?”

“I don’t know...I just...felt like I needed to know about you. Something is calling to me here and I don’t know what.”

Krampus stood, moving the food off the fire. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“I know what is calling to you.” 

He started off.

Jack was unsure of if this was a bad idea, but followed nonetheless. 

“Following a soul stealer into his dark and scary cave. Real smart idea.” Jack said to himself.

“I trust your gut.” Krampus said.

The cave opened up into a damp, humid cavern that was significantly warmer than expected. Stalagmites formed into shapes that resembled furniture. Torches lined every wall, lighting the space up, along with the hole in the top of the cave that allowed the moon to shine down on every surface inside. There were multiple tunnels that led to somewhere. 

Krampus ducked down, walking into one. Jack quickly flew after him. “Where are we going?”

“A place that not a lot of people have come out of.”

“Comforting.”

The tunnel ended and they stepped out into another room that looked similar to the main area of the cavern. Except the cave walls had been formed into shelves that held orbs filled with different colored smoke. 

“Whoa...what is this place?”

“This is where the souls I collect go.”

“These are souls?”

He nodded. “They’re not hurt, I promise. They don’t even know where they are. As far as they know, they’re living their normal lives.”

“They’re calling to me?”

“One of them.” He walked over to a stand where two orbs, one with brown smoke, another with bright pink, sat comfortably. 

Jack walked over. “Why would they be calling to me?”

“Because something wanted your family together again.”

“My family?” He picked up the pink one, looking at it.

Jack, come on! I wanna go play!

His little sister was in the orb. Laughing as she played with someone who looked like him. 

Someone who was him.

He dropped it in shock.

Krampus quickly dove to catch it and held it close. “Be careful! If you drop these, their souls are gone forever!”

“That’s my sister. Why do you have her!? Who are you!?”

He carefully set it back on the pedestal and looked back at Jack. Jack jumped, kicking him in the chest, pushing him back. 

Krampus grunted, catching himself. He stood, growling quietly. “Jack-”

“Let her go!” 

Wind picked up inside, rattling all the orbs. Snow spun around furiously and Jack shot a stream of ice out of his hands at Krampus, who knocked it away and roared. “If you keep up your tantrum, you’ll destroy every last soul in here and they’ll be gone forever!”

His voice echoed throughout the cave and Jack stopped, cowering a little. The wind and snow stopped and Jack stared quietly. He panted, looking around. “I told you. I had my wife and daughter’s souls saved. So I would never be without them.”

“You...they…”

“My son’s soul was never able to be captured because...it’s still around.”

“No...you’re lying.”

“I’m many things. A liar is not one of them. You, Jack…”

“Don’t say it.”

“You are my child.”

“I said SHUT UP!” A burst of cold shot through the room, freezing everything. 

Jack panted, clenching his fists. 

“Jack-”

He flew out of the cave, landing back at the Ceremony of Spirits, catching his breath.

The others ran up to him, crowding around him.

“Jack!” Bunny called.

“Are you hurt?” Tooth asked.

“Jack, you look terrible.” North said, holding his face, checking for any injuries.

Jack pushed them away. “Is he telling the truth?”

“What are you talking about?” Tooth asked.

“Krampus!”

They all quieted down, looking at him solemnly. 

“Is he telling the truth? He’s my dad?”

They said nothing, unsure of what to say.

“How long...how long have you guys known?”

“Since you were chosen.” Bunny sighed.

“So you all knew and were just going to hide it from me!? Why? You think I’m going to be as bad as him?”

“Of course not, Jack.” Tooth said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He moved her hand away, glaring. “Do not touch me.”

“We’re sorry. We didn’t want you to freak out.”

“So you were just going to keep it a secret from me for the rest of eternity!? No wonder Bunny didn’t want me to be a Guardian...look at who my dad is.”

“Now that’s not true-” Bunny tried to defend.

Mother Nature moved to the front of the group. “I know this is a lot to process. I know what it’s like to have a bad spirit as a father.”

“Don’t! Don’t try to sympathize with me! All of you need to stay away from me!” Jack snatched up his staff and turned away.

“Where are you going?” Tooth asked.

“Away from all of you.” He flew off, wiping tears from his face. 

He landed, sitting inside a hole in a tree, curled up to fit inside.

Alone.

Maybe loneliness ran in his family.

Jack chewed on a piece of grass, staring up at the moon. He closed his eyes, crying. 

#rotg #my writing #rise of the guardians

[sibyl-of-space]

Final Fantasy IX ~ Melodies and Memories

"Jesters of the Moon"

There are a lot of very good video games in the world, but it takes some luck and circumstance outside of a game's control for one to reach me at just the right time(s) and place(s) in my life that it has a tangible impact on who I am -- who I want to be. One that carves out a space for itself in my soul that will never be removed or replaced.

I've just finished playing Final Fantasy IX for the first time, and there's no doubt in my mind that such is the case here.

(Continued below readmore.)

I drew this art last year, when I was mourning my attachment to an old favorite game that I just don't feel the same way about anymore: Majora's Mask. I wanted to draw something that captured my feelings about it, because sometimes art is the best way to talk about something when the words don't want to come.

Why is "Jesters of the Moon," the name of a random song in the Final Fantasy IX soundtrack, plastered in the middle of this Majora's Mask fanart? Especially considering I hadn't even played Final Fantasy IX yet when I drew this?

The reason is exactly that "luck and circumstance" that allowed me to fall so uniquely in love with the game.

"Mt. Gulug"

In 2008, someone on YouTube uploaded a Majora's Mask parody-slash-let's-play series called "Majora's Mask: The Things Which Were Taken Out." The series has since become unlisted and won't be linked here out of respect for the creator who probably doesn't want things they said and made in 2008 being spread all over the internet, but because of Unregistered Hypercam 2 reasons, the series inserted other background music over the video and didn't record the actual game audio.

I didn't recognize any of the music, but I watched these parody videos on repeat because in addition to being funny (...at the time, in my mind, at least), I really really loved the music. It got to the point where I would sometimes be playing Majora's Mask and get disappointed when I approached Goht and the Mt. Gulug theme wasn't playing in the background.

I had forgotten about these videos for a really long time in the interim, but I remembered them at some point when I was thinking about Majora's Mask and I found them again. The creator had cited the Final Fantasy IX soundtrack for virtually all of the background music used in the videos, and I realized that despite knowing literally nothing about the game, I had become really fond of - and weirdly nostalgic for - the songs from it that I now recognized.

So I looked up "Jesters of the Moon" and played it on repeat while I drew out my feelings in colored marker. A few months later, I realized that my backwards compatible PS3 can also play PS1 games, and eBay had FFIX for PS1 at a good price. I had nothing to lose by ordering it and seeing what the source of all that fantastic music was like.

"Vamo Alla Flamenco"

I started my playthrough knowing nothing about what to expect from the game. I'd never played a Final Fantasy game before and my overall JRPG experience has been mostly limited to Tales of, Persona, and more recently, mainline Shin Megami Tensei. The only things I knew about Final Fantasy were a) the Tidus laughing scene, and b) Sephiroth. IX seemed like it had vibes I would enjoy, but beyond that I knew nothing about what the experience would be. So I approached it with a "let's have fun and see how it goes" attitude, naming my party members the first silly thing that came to mind, ending up with "Swaggy," "OwO," "Bitchin," "Gunz," and "SWOOORD" to start with.

(For the record I do not regret those names whatsoever.)

I was immediately struck by how differently the game uses music in comparison to all of my previous JRPG experiences. This was not a game where the composer was given a list of theme songs that were slapped on top of a mostly completed game-- this was a game constructed with the soundtrack in mind as a part of the writing process.

The opening act plays almost like an opera (side note, yes I know one of the other FF's has a literal opera, I haven't played that one): you traverse the same locations from different perspectives as different characters, introducing the cast with lighthearted humor and dramatic irony out the wazoo. While you traverse the city as OwO, OwO's theme is playing in the background, coloring your perspective of the city and the narrative. When you switch to Gunz patrolling around the castle, Gunz's theme accompanies your movement and informs his character and mission. I am so accustomed to "location themes" being the norm in virtually all video games that experiencing character and/or narrative themes as BGM instead while I bumble around town changed my entire perspective on what music in games can do and be.

The operatic feeling is definitely intentional, because the game uses a play-within-a-game narrative device to hit you over the head with its themes in a way that is somehow poignant and artful while also being extremely blatant. That is a hard balance to strike, but it manages. The whole game is like that: it is completely straightforward and tells you exactly what it's about at heart, but it does it beautifully.

At any rate, I was enamored with this intro and had a very fun time, but I wasn't obsessed or anything and ended up putting it down. I spent several months on the first half of disk 1 with weeks passing between play sessions. I liked the game plenty, but life stuff happened and I decided to get obsessed with Dai Gyakuten Saiban and Ghost Trick for a while. No regrettis.

It was already clear, though, that FFIX was going to be special to me. My compositions for my team's game in the Global Game Jam in 2021 were directly inspired by FFIX's opera-like intro. I wrote two character themes for our game that would serve as background music when you play as the two protagonists, coloring your journey differently even when moving in the same spaces. I was intentionally trying to mimic the way music is used in FFIX as an exercise. The themes I wrote are definitely some of my strongest work so far.

(You can check out the game here if you want, I promise it is significantly shorter than Final Fantasy IX.)

"Melodies of Life"

Music caused me to pick up FFIX the first time, and music caused me to return to it. After months of not touching or really thinking about it, just earlier this week I was inspired to play it again, because - again - I listened to the right song at the right time.

I was again mourning the loss of something, in this case a friendship, for reasons I'm not going to share here. I had already heard the song "Melodies of Life" because it came up when I was looking up FFIX songs to reblog on Tumblr a few months ago, and I decided to listen to it again. Even without knowing the game context, the song itself really spoke to me in that moment: "a voice from the past, joining yours and mine, adding up the layers of harmony" - it kind of made me feel at peace with the fact that I had a lot of positive memories of that friendship and I could keep those at heart while also moving on in the present. ...I'm also a sucker for music metaphors, so there is that.

I was really moved by this song, cheesy as it is, and I was also definitely in the mood for a distraction. Picking up FFIX again felt like the best move.

It was, and my life is forever changed.

The game never stopped being beautiful and funny and touching, and the soundtrack never ceased to amaze. I recognized concepts I've seen in other games but never had I seen them used so artfully. I adored the fantasy world and non-human cast, I found myself enticed by random encounter for the first time because it made me feel like I had to struggle to survive a difficult journey. Music, gameplay, visuals, and story felt like one cohesive work of art for the entire duration.

Life circumstances got me to play the game again, but the game itself was so captivating and wonderful that I binged the entire rest of it - disks 2-4 - in less than a week. Everything else that the game had to say, it told me itself, in its own context, and I was ready to listen.

"You're Not Alone!"

This is going to make me sound like an emotionally-stunted twenty-something, but it has been years since a work of media has got me to have a really good cry. I used to cry playing games all the time as a kid but recently I'll find myself getting emotional, sure, often tearing up, but getting completely red-faced and snot-nosed because I physically cannot contain the emotions being evoked by a work? Years. I can't honestly tell you the last time it happened with certainty.

I feel like an emotional band-aid has been ripped off. I was f*cking sobbing during the entire duration of the "You're Not Alone!" sequence. It didn't matter that what was happening was obviously coming from a mile away, because the delivery was so raw and emotional and human!!! A whole game's worth of Swaggy punching first and asking questions later to save his friends, being Protag McProtag endangering himself for others in any and all circumstances, for the payoff of all of his friends forcing him to stop being such a primadonna and let them help him for once. It's true, too! He relies on them just as much as they rely on him! And the game doesn't just tell you this, no, it lets you try to solo all these fights and waits until you realize how boned you are until they come bail you out.

When Bitchin showed up with her "looks like you need a hand" I wanted to straight up yell at my tv. YES I DO!!! YES I DO NEED YOU BITCHIN!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!! I half knew that SWOOORD was going to heal me before I got truly KO-ed but I had been unmercifully wiped in "unwinnable" battles before in this game, so I legit thought I might have to re-do that whole part of the game again, and I was so relieved and thankful when she showed up and healed me.

This moment exemplifies everything that I adore about this game. It doesn't just tell you its story. It shows it to you, it sings it to you, and it and lets you play it out and feel it for yourself.

"Game Over"

This song is all too familiar to me. Gizamaluke's Grotto was very unforgiving for a first-time Final Fantasy player, especially one who didn't happen to pick up Big on the way for a fourth party member early on.

I hadn't heard the piano part in a few months, though, because when I picked the game back up I started just mashing to reload before it got to that point any time we wiped. I didn't hear it again until the game was truly over, this time for good.

I let it play for a while. Not too long, because I have a CRT TV and didn't want "The End" to get burned in. But a while. Enough to meditate on what I'd just experienced, and how I was feeling about it.

There's so much more to say about the game, far more than I could put in a blog post. But I don't think I need to describe these thoughts in words. I can do what the game did, and use music, use art, use stories, use metaphors, and use symbols to communicate what I mean; and hope that someone else is able and willing to listen.

And although a written record of my thoughts likely won't be preserved for all that long, maybe the feelings and the memories will be, so long as they have been shared.

#personal #analyses #ffix

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend (Geralt x Reader, Part 3.)

Series description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part summary: Two witchers in one hall can be a lot. Especially when they are not friends at all and if Jaskier and Dijkstra are present as well. 

A/N: Well, here we go with miss reader being a coronated savage and badass bcs she definitely can kick Geralt's ass in ten seconds precisely and kill Jaskier with one look alone. Her song is kinda maybe New Level by A$AP Ferg I guess?

Tagging:  @osgon-azure​ @davnwillcome @missdictatorme​ @nemodoren​

Word count: 2.2K

Master list: H E R E

It was so boring to stand there and watch these people having... Fun. A big man huffed out ironically, taking another sip of his wine. He already hated all about that convention and may I say, he was there only for half an hour. His friend seemed to be enjoying himself and the ladies if Geralt had to say.

And these clothes. For what on earth he was fucking wearing a robe like this? With a shirt that was ironed? The fuck was going on with Geralt? And on top of that, he was drinking fancy wine in the Vegenbul residence. This whole situation was beyond laughable.

"Ya don't dance, mister Witcher? Are ya the big scary man everyone is telling us about?" - A woman appeared next to him and she was beyond drunk. From what Geralt was able to smell, it was a wonder she was still standing on her feet. All Geralt responded with was a good long hum and a stare into the middle of the dancing crowd.

"Ya not a good company. I wonder what does the bard sees on traveling along with you." - The drunkard told Geralt pretty loudly and stomped a few meters away from him. Geralt thought that maybe, she would fall flat on her smudged and sweaty face, but to his surprise, she walked to another group of guests.

The ball was just boring. Geralt was there only because it was related to business. Otherwise, he wouldn't come. When he watched everyone from the corner of the room, he wondered about his outfit. Yennefer would be happy to see him in the clothes he had on. Naturally, Geralt's attention was drawn when a guest who was running late was being introduced.

No-one dared to come late at events like these. No-one was that rude. Except for two people who were slowly walking the stairs while trumpets were telling everyone that these two have arrived. For a small while, Geralt could see only legs - one of them was limping badly. That was Sigismund. Geralt had personally fucked up that lag, he knew how bad did Dijkstra limped. The other one was female - at least according to the high heels they were wearing and a long robe studded with shiny rocks. After a fairly long observation, the rocks appeared to be diamonds - which was extremely dumb and also extremely expansive.

And when Geralt saw that hair, he didn't even need to see the rest of her face. She was dramatic as always - expansive dress, late arrival, and an emotionless face. He closed his eyes and turned away, knowing she already saw him in that fancy suit.

"Let me introduce lady Y/N of Kaedwen and sir Sigi Reuven of Novigrad as the last guests of this ball." - A man in a uniform said, bowed to these two and left. Geralt was already sick of her. No matter what, Y/N was always acting like a child and a bitch, there were no other words to describe her behavior. There was also nothing that would make Geralt sure that this time, she'll behave like an actual adult.

His eyes shot a quick look at Jaskier. That man, of course, was over his heels for her already. To be honest, there weren't many ladies who were showing their cleavage this blatantly; let alone the dress showing her leg up to her thigh.

Y/N was walking the hall, having elbow entwined with Sigi's, giving a pleasant smile to everyone. If Geralt had to say, you were the most pleasant looking and acting witcher of them all. People would choose you as the nicest, yet they never got to know what's hiding under that mask. It was a killing machine full of small numbers. It was calculating every single move and taking in everything around you.

It was too late to hide already. Dijkstra had seen Geralt and waved at him to join you and young lady Vegelbur. Jaskier almost approached you as well - but just seconds before that, someone tugged his jacket to make him play the lute.

"Geralt." - Was the first word he heard from you. - "What a... A pleasant surprise." - You grinned a bit, taking an elegant cup of wine to at least hold something in your palm. You never drank on events like that since witchers and witchresses got drunk extremely fast. Geralt never drank more than one pint of ale but this time, he was thinking about breaking the rules.

No-one noticed the short pause of disgust when you greeted him. So you two were still on the same page you ended up on the last time you saw each other, that was good to know.

"As always, the pleasure is on my side, Y/N." - Geralt said back as politely as he was capable of. Before you had the chance to say something back, Dijkstra stopped both of you.

"These are the witchers I was able to persuade to take the job, lady Vegelbud. They are the best of the best. I swear on my very own name." - The man pointed at the both of you, making you both grin a bit at lady Vegelbud.

"I've met with sir Geralt a couple of times. He saved my life when the murders in Novigrad were taking place and my gratitude for that is endless." - Lady smiled at the man, bowing to him a bit. Then she turned to you and took in your appearance with her eyes. And let's say, you were a lot to take in.

"As for lady Y/N of Kaedwen, I'm not entirely sure if I've ever heard her name. I can see that you're a witchress, fair lady, but I haven't seen you around here." - Lady Vegelbud tried to smile as nicely as she was capable of. She winked at you, staring the unnerving amount of skin you were showing off.

For an unknown reason, you were eye-catching. It was strange to see a woman who was appearing so thing yet so masculine, so beautiful and dangerously looking. Your golden eyes which were appearing as if they shone... She couldn't look away. Gently, you smiled and winked back at lady Vegelbud.

Yet again, Dijkstra jumped in so you wouldn't say anything back.

"That's because lady Y/N doesn't travel here that much. Mostly, you'd find her on Skellige or Redenia with sir Lambert. But that's how I'm sure that lady Y/N is the right choice to solve your problems." - Dijkstra told her with all of his charms, smiling a bit. You nodded gratefully, pushing your lips together.

"Is that so? So you and sir Geralt know each other from the past, have you met, slaught a monster perhaps?" - Lady Vegelbud asked with a burning passion, awaiting an answer from you. Not from Geralt, not from Dijkstra, but you. There was still the silence where only Jaskier and his band could be heard.

"I know sir Geralt for a long time. We've been raised together on the School of Wolf in my homeland, Kaedwen, but after that, out ways parted. But to answer your question, we did slay some monsters together before sir Geralt here got famous by his party in Blaviken." - You smiled sweetly and even if Geralt did his best to completely ignore you, he had to look at you. You saw Dijskra shifting his position and you knew you had already said too much, so you shut up and smiled even more.

Lady Vegelbud was way too curious. She asked you a million questions - about monsters, about being a witcher and a woman at once, about the dream of having a child which you didn't have... You finally got rid of her shortly after midnight. And that was when you saw Geralt drinking his third ale in the corner of the room. You naturally couldn't let that slip past your attention.

"What a naughty boy you are." - You winked at the man, putting your cup of warm wine aside. - "Look at you drinking the ale as a lemonade. Uh, papa Vesemir would be sooo fucking angry." - You looked around, watching the crowd dancing, talking, drinking, and dancing. They were boring.

"Better making myself drunk than trying to talk to you, eh?" - Geralt finished his third ale and then got into your wine almost immediately. You didn't tell him a word, you just rose your eyebrows.

So you were still on the same page you ended up on all those years ago.

"My approach to the situation will be as follows - we have to get there as quickly as we can, kill the monster, take its head and we need to get back. It's the start of fall now and when we get back, it will already be time to get to Kaer Morhen." - You said sincerely and Geralt nodded immediately.

"You'll be getting back to Kaer Morhen for the winter? Haven't seen you there in years." - Geralt sincerely wondered. While every normal witcher or witchress got there in the winter, you haven't shown up in the last five years. There was no need for witchers in the winter.

Everyone always gathered back in the keep to tell stories, have fun, and to share memories. No-one was hunting in the winter since most of the monsters almost disappeared. Each school always gathered in their keeps as a big family, and School of the Wolf wasn't different - yet you didn't show up for more than ten years. You were always spending the winter in warmer kingdoms than Kaedwen. That year was different. You wanted to tell goodbye to everyone before you'd disappear in the thin air. And this time, you meant to leave the witcher business for good.

"Yes, I feel like I haven't seen my family in years." - You answered with a pinch of irony. And according to swift steps behind your back and Geralt looking all terrified, you knew that soon, your party will have a new member. And it was none other than the man and bard himself, Jaskier. Or as you called him, the jester who was traveling with Geralt.

"I feel like you and I haven't spoken nor dance yet. So to be nice, I decided to join you and my friend, lady, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you can call me..." - And that was the exact moment when your fingers caught his jaw in a fast and precise movement. You pushed his cheeks together, making him look like a fish before you slowly looked him in the eyes.

"I don't care." - You said simply, observing him. After looking at Jaskier with disgust, you let his jaw go. - "This is one cute puppy to keep you warm in the cold nights, I tell you, Geralt. Now, gentlemen, excuse me while I’ll join some enlightened company to talk about political bullshit. I expect you to be ready in the morning to look at the maps of attacks and what did the witnesses say." - You bowed so it would still appear somehow decent. When that was said and done, you turned on your heels and left the two men standing alone.

"Jesus, first of all, did she assume you and I having a secret relationship? Secondly, how dare she call me a puppy, and third of all, Geralt, what in the bloody ass is wrong with you?" - Jaskier took the half-empty cup of Geralt’s hand, drinking the rest of the alcoholic drink. Geralt didn't answer, nor cursed or hummed, he just looked at Jaskier, waiting for what Julian had to say.

"What is it with you always picking bloody psychopaths as your romantic interest? First, we had to suffer under Yennefer's reign of terror, then there was this whole bloody thing with Triss Ranuncul, and how gladly I would forget about your fling with Keira Metz?" - Jaskier looked at Geralt offendedly, making the witcher stare him down.

"This woman isn't near being my romantic interest. I'm surprised she hadn't tried killing me yet." - Geralt answered honestly, watching you talk to a local alcohol merchant. You were overreacting a serious lot, but you indeed had something Geralt was painfully lacking - charm.  

"So she’s not taken yet is what my ears hear." - Jaskier whispered with a growing smile, but Geralt punched his shoulder rather harshly to get him out of the trance.

"Don't try your tricks on that woman, I beg you. I don't want to scrape you off the ceiling when she gets pissed. I'm going to bed and you should do the same." - He gave his friend one last piece of advice before he left the room to have a good rest.

#geralt of rivia x reader #Geralt of rivia x female! Witchress #Geralt z Rivie #Geralt z Rivii #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #jakier #dandelion #witcher #the world of the witcher #andrzej sapkowski #wiedzmin #zaklínač #sigismind dijsktra #lady vegelbud

[rchtoziers]

reddie + 56 👀👀👀

56. “Don’t you dare die on me!”

gene i see what you are doing... i see it.... i refuse i refuse the angst i simply cannot today. if i had written this yesterday then it would have been different but. no angst for me or you today. on god we’re gonna let these boys be HAPPY bro

*

They’re giggly, stupid drunk in a way that Eddie can’t remember being since he was at least in his twenties. He knows he’s likely going to regret it in the morning, that he’s going to wake up with a headache and a taste of death in his mouth and that he’s going to be nursing this hangover for the better part of a week, but right now he’s reasoning that it can’t be that bad. It can’t be.

Not when he gets to wake up next to Richie fucking Tozier tomorrow morning.

That makes all his mornings better, anyway.

Richie is a clumsy drunk and it’s only worse with the fact that Eddie can’t support either of them himself. It leads to them stumbling down the sidewalk and giggling each time they bump elbows or knees or, once, when Richie’s chin bumps hard against Eddie’s nose. It leads to once or twice or three times that they stumble so hard, Richie uses it as an excuse to lead Eddie backwards a few more steps until they’re both pressed against the wall of whatever building they were passing. Eddie’s always laughing too hard for anything to come of it, but it doesn’t matter. He’s drunk and he’s happy and Richie is drunk and happy and that’s what matters.

“Stop, stop!” Eddie laughs, the next time Richie tries to get him against a wall and kiss his neck. “You’re gonna push me down a stairwell one of these times and then I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna bash my head in on the concrete and bleed to death because you’re too fucking—Rich, stop!—too fucking drunk to save my life!”

Richie pulls away when Eddie swats at him again, still laughing. There’s a stripe where Richie had licked on Eddie’s neck. “I’d still save your life!” he protests, but his argument feels weak thanks to the lopsided grin on his face. “I could be your knight in shining armor!”

“Jester in tin foil,” Eddie says back. Richie groans and presses a bruising kiss to Eddie’s mouth in response.

“Very upsetting that you don’t think I could save your life,” Richie says, breathless, when he finally pulls away. “I think you’d be surprised. Maybe I’m CPR certified. Maybe I have the AHA card to prove it and everything.”

Eddie sighs dramatically. “You’re the reason I’m going to die,” he insists.

Richie’s thumb brushes against Eddie’s jawline, then his cheekbone, then the curve of his lip. Richie’s eyes never look away. “Listen to me, you little turd,” Richie says. He pinches a section of Eddie’s cheek and grins when Eddie squawks. Both of his hands come up to cup Eddie’s face. “Listen. ‘Cause this is the most serious shit I’m ever gonna say, okay?”

“If you propose to me right now—” Eddie warns.

“Shut up,” Richie laughs. “Are you even listening to me?”

Eddie’s gaze softens. “Baby, I’m literally always fucking listening to you. Couldn’t get me to stop.”

Richie’s responding grin is bright and beautiful. “Good. Listen,” he says again. Eddie can feel the deep breath that Richie takes. “I love you, right? That’s not news. But I love you. So you can’t die on me, like, ever.”

“I’m gonna die some day, Richie,” Eddie reminds him.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Richie insists. “Ever. I’m fucking serious, Eddie, you are not allowed. I’m going first, end of the story. Or we’re both gonna be immortal. I bet we could find a way.”

Eddie presses up on his toes to kiss Richie. He grabs a fistful of Richie’s sweater with both of his hands and tugs him closer. He doesn’t even care that they’re in public and that they’re against a dirty building and that it’s not late enough that the streets of New York are empty. He doesn’t care that they just came from a stupid work party where Eddie didn’t win an award and they had no choice but to get drunk on shitty champagne. He doesn’t care about anything except for kissing Richie, and kissing Richie for as long as fucking possible for the rest of their lives. Hell, for the rest of eternity, apparently.

Richie’s the only fucking thing that he cares about.

“We’ll find a way,” he agrees, and maybe it’s the alcohol speaking or maybe it’s just Richie’s obnoxious and unwavering optimism, but Eddie kind of believes it. They could find a way. Even if they don’t, they’ll be together for the rest of their lives.

There’s no question about that.

#reddie #richie #eddie #my writing #honeyreynolds #answered #i had so many plans for the angsty version of this then i sat down today and thought... no. no thank u. happy thots only :) #ANYWAY I HOPE U . LIKE THIS #AND THAT ITS NOT GARBAGE... #I LOVE U ANGEL

[blogging-time]

Mealybugs

Send me a random word and I will attempt to write a Hurt/Comfort Fic containing/based on it. My Fic Masterlist

Word: Sick - Submitted by @3amthebitchinghour! 

Summary: Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first... but now things were quickly getting out of hand...

If only Roman had known why Patton felt so protective over him, it could have saved the pair oh-so much heartache. 

Warnings: Mild illness/fever. Very brief Remus mention.

Pairings: Platonic Royality. (Can be interpreted as romantic.)

Word Count: 3,595

~ ~ ~

Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first. Despite his well-sown fear of appearing both feeble and childish, there was just something about the dad Side’s ever-blossoming kindness that chipped away at the prince’s protective thorns until he was nothing more than a delicate collection of crimson rose petals in the botanist’s careful hands.

Perhaps to Patton, Roman was little more than a single clipped rose, powerless to fight off the tender love and care that he had deemed the prince beautiful enough to be deserving of. Still, Roman had enjoyed every last moment he’d spent simply being a part of his friend’s heavenly garden. Every day he’d let his roots embed themselves further and further into the soil until there was seemingly no moving him, and every day his friend would come by to perform his routine check-up.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you flourishing, kiddo!” his friend would chirp with a carefree smile.

But even the most attentive of botanists will one day see their flowers wilt. Even the most well-tended gardens can become victims of disease. And when this happens, perhaps one of the worst things you can possibly do for an already suffering rose is overwater it.

In the beginning, the whole thing had seemed as innocent as a timid field mouse cautiously poking its head up to greet the cold evening breeze. True, you typically wouldn’t want to see any type of rodent rummaging around in your garden, but there had just been something so careful and genuine in Patton’s eyes that had made the man seem far sweeter than any succulent berry he could possibly steal away.

Besides, Patton had been Roman’s faithful botanist, not some common thief. The prince knew there was nothing in this world that his friend would intentionally deprive him of. However, the intention doesn’t always match the outcome, and one simple observation was all it took to set off a rather unfortunate series of events.

~ ~ ~

“Oh, kiddo… you’re sick,” Patton had commented, concern dripping from his voice like melted ice-cream.

“Oh, Padre, you’re too kind,” Roman had joked back, hoping against all odds that he could bury the dad Side’s concern with his quick wit.

But Patton’s heart was not so easily satisfied.

“What in Thomas’ name do you think you’re doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

The prince sighed before answering, “It’s just a passing cold, Patty-cakes. There’s no need for you to be getting your buns in such a twist.”

“You leave my buns out of this, little mister,” Patton countered, taking a step forward and gently placing his hand on the ill man’s already damp forehead.

Looking back, perhaps the moment Roman instinctively let himself melt into the touch of the moral Side’s cool hand was the moment he’d sealed his fate.

The botanist’s persistent supervision began not long after that.

~ ~ ~

It had all started with a humble offering of chicken soup.

“Now you just lie here, Roman, and I’ll serve you up one of my very own Patton-patented pawsitively palatable poultry plates in just one moment!”

“Now look who’s paid a visit to the alliteration station!”

Then came the many cutesy looking coffee mugs, almost all of which contained some different variation of Healthline’s ‘Top 10 Healthiest Herbal Teas You Just Have to Try!’

“As the wise Uncle Iroh once said: Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights!”

“Padre… we’ve known each other for almost thirty years.”

“And yet this dashing prince simply never fails to fascinate me!”

And who could forget all of those simple yet tedious everyday tasks that Patton had offered to fulfil in Roman’s steed?

“Oh, most sweet and noble knight of mine… are you absolutely certain that this quest I have assigned to you won’t prove itself far too time-consuming or demanding?”

The moral Side chuckled faintly at that.

“My liege, I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see to it that Master Thomas gets his chance to rehearse this afternoon, and that the last of the required props are picked up from Ye Olde Hobby Lobby in plenty of time for supper!”

“You have my eternal gratitude.”

“And you, my tissues.”

One could easily argue that the feverish prince had been entirely too willing to comply with the botanist’s generous wishes during those first two days, but how was he to know just how overbearing his friend would become over the course of the next seventy-two hours?

It had all started with Patton’s refusal to let Roman prepare his own toast.

“It’s just a simple slice of toast, Doctor Ramsay,” Roman bantered, “And if it’s any consolation I’ll promise not to cut the bread with my sword this time – Prince’s Honour!”

“Kiddo, you shouldn’t be handling food at all while you’re not well; that’s how you end up spreading germs.”

“To whom? Myself?”

“You never know, Roman. Please… just leave all of the cooking to me for now. I can have everything done within five minutes.”

Then came the many unnecessary yet incessant visits to Roman’s room that Patton would make throughout the day.

“Knock, knock!”

“Oh, I wonder who could possibly be there?” Roman drawled.

Patton giggled weakly at that.

“Just your happy-chappy pappy checking up on someone sappy!”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the sappy one here, Patton.”

And how could Roman ever overlook the fact that he’d practically been put on strict bedrest for multiple days when there were so many other things he’d rather be doing to elevate his growing boredom?

“Listen, nurse… I understand you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can’t see any good reason as to why I shouldn’t be allowed to go and play ‘Mario Kart’ with the court jester. I feel like I’ve done nothing these past few days, and besides, my temperature barely even meets the criteria for a fever anymore.”

“First of all, we’ve already spoken about you referring to Virgil as the ‘court jester.’ Second of all, the reason your health has been improving is because you’ve taken the time to do nothing. Thirdly, Roman you’re far too competitive to be playing videogames right now. You’ll just end up psyching yourself up too much and making your headache so much worse.”

The prince had done his best to tolerate this sort of treatment for five whole days before allowing himself to finally admit the obvious: Patton wasn’t his knight in shining armour; he was the dragon-witch responsible for keeping him locked up in a tower.

He knew confrontation was inevitable if he wanted to see the outside world again anytime soon - Too long now had he been kept inside of a restrictive vase as opposed to an open flowerbed. Still, going into the discussion, Roman had downright dreaded dealing with the resistance he would surely be met with from his fellow Side. Of course, he knew the moral Side would never be mad at him for standing his ground, but if he didn’t want his friend to worry then he felt he’d still have to prepare a solid rebuttal.

The creative Side had braced himself for his moral counterpart’s troubling frown. He’d fully anticipated his friend’s most frequently recycled justifications and prepared what he considered to be an adequate counterargument for each. Heck, the prince had even taken the liberty of preparing an evidence casefile should the dad Side ever demand to see proof of his ongoing recovery.

“Behold! The piece of evidence that clearly contradicts the witness’ testimony!” Roman rehearsed, finger pointing rather dramatically at his bedroom mirror, “If you take a good look at this thermometer, you’ll see that my temperature read as 98.6F this morning. Mr Sanders, you claimed I couldn’t leave the room for as long as I have a fever, but this device clearly shows I now have a perfectly normal body temperature!”

Undoubtedly Roman had done enough preparation to ensure that even a man as tight-lipped as Logan couldn’t help but feel proud of his work. If only history had been kind enough to repeat itself, then perhaps the creative Side could have even found himself standing in the middle of another ‘Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fic’ type situation.

However, there had been one rather unfortunate series of developments that the prince had not fully fortified himself for – one that had proven itself to be far more regrettable than unlikely, and one that the prince would have no choice but to embrace as he failed to sway the conversation back in his favour.

For within mere minutes of opening his carefully planned, well-constructed and adequately researched argument, both the poor over-watered wilting rose, and his apparently not-so-attentive botanist had completely abandoned their cool demeanours in exchange for a far more contentious persona.

“Roman, please, just be reasonable,” the dad Side pleaded, arms outstretched in a halting motion as he took yet another step back towards Roman’s doorway.

“Oh, my stars!” the aforementioned Side proclaimed incredulously, “Do my ears deceive me? Or is that truly ‘The Hypocrite of the West Coast’ sincerely asking me to be more reasonable?”

Had the man standing before the prince been anyone but his favourite fatherly figure, then surely he would have pressed him on the long sigh he just let out.

“Kiddo, I understand why you’re upset, but you know I’d never try to deter you like this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. I hate seeing you cooped up in here just as much as you do!”

“Then why won’t you set me free?”

“Because I believe-”

“Oh yes, because you believe it’s the right thing to do, don’t you? That’s always what it seems to come down to at the end of the day! Everything in the entire Thomas-sphere has to revolve around what Morality thinks is right and wrong! Honestly, what have the rest of us ever done to deserve a seat at the table?”

The moral Side’s entire body seemed to tense at that, his breath hitching as though he were trying to force some unsavoury words back down his own agitated throat. Tears were now threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes, yet his gaze remained almost perfectly fixed.

“Roman…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Pat! I’m sick and tired of listening to what you have to say!”

“You’re sick and tired, full stop, Roman! Please, you should really just go back to bed while I-”

“While you do what, Patton? Are you planning on tucking me back into bed again? Perhaps you could infantilise me even further by reading me another bedtime story, or- Oh! I know! Why don’t you go and prepare me yet another bowl of your infamous chicken soup? I’m not sure the first couple-hundred bowls have made me entirely anti-poultry yet!”

Undoubtedly, hunched up shoulders and pointedly narrowed eyes weren’t a particularly good look on the usually oh-so-cheery dad Side, but he simply couldn’t help the fact that his composure was shrivelling up so fast.

“If you really want to get me out of your hair so badly, then why won’t you just let me take care of you? The sooner I can get you healthy again, the sooner I can leave you to your own devices!”

“Because it’s not your job to take care of me, padre!” the prince snapped back, this time sounding utterly exasperated. “I’m not some delicate little flower that you should feel obligated to attend to! You’re not my designated botanist! You… You know what you are? What you really are, Pat? You’re just some aggravating little mealybug that’s latched onto my leaves that now adamantly refuses to let go! You’re sucking the life out of me, Pat, and it’s causing me to wilt! How on Earth do you expect me to stand it?”

With those words, the last of the moral Side’s composure finally slipped away.

“I don’t know, Roman! How do you expect me to cope with losing Creativity again?”

The words had come barrelling out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself, and the tears don’t fall too far behind.

The room fell completely silent in an instant, bar the sound of the dad Side’s sombre hiccups.

Try as Patton might, he genuinely couldn’t help the feeling that he was being cruelly suffocated and torn apart from the inside. It felt as though someone had forced him to swallow an entire packet of dandelion seeds, and now the unwelcome plant was blooming, stems sprouting painfully from the pit of his stomach before forcing its way up through his throat, and finally bursting out dramatically from his silently screaming mouth. It seemed that no matter how hard the botanist had tried to suppress this unruly weed, the truth was always destined to come to light in some horrific way.

“Patton…?” Roman hesitantly asked, his previous shouting voice having been replaced by an almost-whisper.

The man in question only let a single choked sob escape before continuing to speak…

“…He was just like you, you know…” he blurted out, voice sounding unnaturally strained from trying to suppress his own emotions. His eyes were now utterly transfixed on the floor, almost as if he were willing it to magically open up and swallow him whole.

The prince audibly gulped as he mentally prepared himself for the question he’d inevitably have to ask, regardless of whether or not he already knew the answer.

“Who was, Pat?”

Another choked sob escaped; this time followed by a long, shaky, uneven breath. The question seemed to hang in the air far too uncomfortably for far too long as one Side watched the other pathetically curl in on himself.

“The King,” Patton eventually rasped out, words slicing through the tension in the air so swiftly and so grotesquely they almost seemed to mimic the actions of a rusty lawn mower blade.

Roman could practically hear the machine whirring around inside his head.

“He told us all it was just a cold – That he’d be perfectly fine if we just left him alone for a few hours…”

“Patton…”

“He told us all to just go out and play… He promised us he’d come and join us as soon as he was feeling better… At the time none of us even realised that would be our last chance to run around in the garden together… Our last chance to marvel at the early Spring flowers together… Our last chance to weave intricate little flower crowns together with the King… and so we missed it… We missed our final chance to say ‘goodbye’ and then he was just… gone…”

As the well finally overflooded, allowing for two long streams to suddenly pour down the older Side’s fiercely flushed face, the young prince swore he could feel his own still beating heart immediately split in two.

“Patton,” he tried again, “Surely you don’t blame yourself for any of that. I highly doubt there’s anything you could have done to prevent such a fate from befalling the old Creativity – and even if there had have been, you couldn’t have possibly known any better!”

“I could have been by his side!” Patton snapped back, punctuating his words by gripping his upper arms even tighter. “I knew one of my friends was sick and I did nothing to help him! Worse than that, Roman, I left him alone to play hopscotch.”

“Darling, it’s not your fault for having such faith in an old friend. He was the one who told you to give him some space! You were only doing what was asked of you!”

A sudden wave of realisation swiftly struck down the prince’s confidence the moment he heard those words aloud.

“Oh, my dear little heart…” he cooed as he watched his shaking friend visibly shrink. “I’m so sorry, Pat… I didn’t mean to-”

“No… No, you don’t have anything to apologise for…” Patton sniffled as he tried to stand up properly. “I… I understand I may have been a bit… overbearing these past few days, but I…” He was getting choked up again. “I… I just couldn’t risk losing Creativity again… I couldn’t risk losing you. I love you so much, kiddo, and I genuinely don’t know what I would do if I ever-”

Roman decided to silence that oncoming tangent by abruptly pulling his spiralling friend into a warm embrace. Perhaps the experience would have been a little more pleasant had his own body not decided to start trembling mere moments ago, but none of that seemed to matter as the dad Side slowly melted into his soothing touch.

“Do you want me to let you in on a special little secret, padre?”

The dad Side merely nodded his response into the crook of the prince’s neck, causing the slightly calmer man to let out a faint chuckle.

“The truth is… when I first appeared here in the mindscape, I really didn’t know much at all about… well… anything! Sure, I had a decent enough hold on what sort of things inspired Thomas, what stories he wanted to tell and how he wanted to go about telling them… but when it came to Thomas’ internal ‘Breakfast Club’ I was almost completely at a loss! By all accounts your quizzical looks should have made me feel like a Roman gladiator thrown haphazardly into a colosseum without so much as a broken stick to defend myself!”

“I’m sorry if any of us startled you…” came a muffled response.

“But that’s the thing, Pat,” Roman recounted with a kind smile, “None of you ever did… In fact, from the very first moment I ever laid my dazzling eyes upon all of your startled yet adorable – if not slightly nerdy – faces, I honestly never felt anything but… safe, secure… welcome, even! Now I know that may not make much sense at first given how little I actually knew you all at the time, but I happen to have my own little working theory as to why I felt that way. Would you like me to share it with you?”    

That question was apparently enough to make the dad Side look up from where he had been nuzzling his tear-soaked face into his friend’s now admittedly rather damp shoulder. The sight of his puffy eyes alone was enough to make Roman want to tear off his own crimson rose petals and use them as an overly extravagant tissue on the botanist’s grief-stricken visage.

Alas, a small piece of his velvety sash would have to suffice for now.

“Please,” Patton tentatively begged as the prince carefully wiped away at his cheeks.

“I reckon it’s because the Creativity you once knew never truly left. Even if I didn’t maintain the vast majority of his memories, I vehemently believe that all of those otherwise inexplicable feelings were the by-product of him having once loved all of you. He never felt betrayed… He never felt lonely… He never felt as though you let him down, padre, because it’s abundantly clear didn’t.”

“But how can you be so sure his feelings never changed?”

“I don’t know, my own little Patton-ted Piglet… How can you be so sure they ever did?”

Something in the moral Side’s expression seemed to change in that moment… Something subtle yet unmistakable that let Roman know he’d finally gotten through to the man.

It was only a matter of time before a contented smile had taken place on both of their blushing faces.

“I suppose I never really thought of it that way…” Patton sheepishly admitted.

“Yet you’d dare to entertain the thought that your dashing prince would ever leave you?”

The creative Side had fully intended for his sentiment to come across as light-hearted. Rather unfortunately for him, it appeared his words only served to make the dad Side feel more guilty.  

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that earlier, kiddo… and I’m sorry if my paranoia ever made me act unfairly towards you… I guess I just let my parental instincts get the better of me sometimes…”

“I’ll consider it all water under the bridge so long as you promise not to tell Teach I had to take a leaf out of his book today,” Roman joked, earning a stifled burst of heartfelt giggling from his now slightly more chipper and upbeat friend.

When the laughter eventually subsided, the dad Side decided to take a step back and get a better look at Roman, consequently breaking the embrace as he did so.

“I can’t tell if you acting all logical is supposed to be a sign that your health is improving or deteriorating,” he playfully teased.

“Well whichever one of the two it is, I just hope all of this exposure you’ve had to my sorry-self over these past few days hasn’t been enough to infect you.”

“Oh, Roman, I hate to tell you this, but I was already sick,” Patton merrily admitted after only a brief pause.

“What?” the prince dramatically exclaimed, voice suddenly sounding perturbed. “Oh, padre… Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? We need to get you tucked into bed with some medicine and a bowl of chicken soup right away!”

Although Morality had tried to contain their mildly inappropriate giggling, he simply couldn’t help but be amused by the irony behind Creativity’s words.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any need for that,” he giddily reassured, “After all, doctors say there’s still no known cure for love-sickness!”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@lunamay2006, @not-so-innocent-bi-sander, @saphael-malec102, @anastasialestina

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

Secondary Note: I may come back and edit the ending a little at a later date. This fic had been sitting in my WIP’s for far too long, so I’m worried it may have come across as rushed due to the fact I really wanted it to be completed.

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was very out of practice and sleep-deprived here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism! I hope you’re all having a fan-der-tastic day!

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Royality #Platonic Royality #My Fic #Reblogs > Likes

[naturalnein]

you were infinitely mine

Jester has waltzed through life assuming it’s like living out a story.

Now she stands before a real beast, more ancient than she can comprehend, and she knows real life is different. She’s known for a while, whether or not she’s wanted to admit it. Adventure is gruesome and terrifying and sad. These are not things she’d ever imagined nor things she’d planned for.

Nothing has felt less like a story than the moment Jester sees Beau dangling limp from the mouth of the dragon.

...

or: The Nein's encounter with the white dragon ends in a fatality, and the resulting ritual

alternatively, read on ao3 and leave a comment

Jester has waltzed through life assuming it’s like living out a story.

If pressed, she’d say it was because of all the time she spent alone in her room, weaving increasingly elaborate tales to the paneled walls; painting towers that reach the clouds, acting out the moment she slays the dragon and saves the day, envisioning one of her beautiful imaginary friends dramatically professing their undying love for her. These were the things she clung to when the world felt small and she felt the most alone. When she is set free, these fantasies are the only sense of reality she has. 

Now she stands before a real dragon, more ancient than she can comprehend, and she knows real life is different. She’s known for a while, whether or not she’s wanted to admit it. Adventure is gruesome and terrifying and sad. These are not things she’d ever imagined nor things she’d planned for. And sometimes it is easy to ignore, when a mission is completed without a scratch or afterwards when she laughs with her friends in a tavern and recounts the battle. It feels nice to walk through her childhood fantasies, even if for a moment, even if it’s not true.

Nothing has felt less like a story than the moment Jester sees Beau dangling from the mouth of the dragon.

See, if this were a story, the moment would be in slow motion. Jester would catch the movement of the dragon, she would know (because she always knows, when it comes to Beau) what it planned to do, she would know just the spell to stop it. Beau would wink in thanks, Jester would blush, and later tonight in the darkness of their room Beau would say You saved my life, Jess, it… it means a lot. That’s how it goes in her novels. No one is hurt, the beast is slain, the night ends with riches and laughter and tentative sincerity.

But this is not a story, Jester’s life has never been a novel. As it is, she doesn’t see the dragon strike, only catches a flash of familiar blue swinging from it’s jaws. She spins in terror just in time to see Beau’s body dropped, crack against the ice and skid to a halt. Too still, eerily still.

A flash of fire from the other side of the cavern draws the dragon’s attention, and only then does Jester regain her senses enough to think: What were you doing you could have stopped this get to her now she is hurt she needs your help--

“Beau!” The scream tears from Jester’s throat before she realizes she’s opened her mouth and she stumbles forward, frantic. Her knees slam against the cavern floor: a solid sheet of ice that sears the scrapes criss-crossing her legs and makes shreds of her tights. 

Her shaking hands hover, unsure and terrified. There are horrible, gaping wounds ripping through Beau’s beautiful Xhorhasian clothes. Jester thinks blood, there should be blood, before realizing it’s all frozen over from the temperature of the dragon’s teeth, like scabs of frost stretching across her chest.

With a deep breath, Jester casts cure wounds. It’s enough to wake Beau up, at least. She’ll see how the rest of the party is doing with the dragon, then she’ll see if she can get her back on her feet. Scary, but nothing she hasn’t done before. It’s fine, it’s fine.

The magic spills from Jester’s palms and spreads across Beau’s body. One moment--two, three four--and there’s no sign of movement. Confused and losing time, Jester tries again. Expends more of her energy, more of her magic, why isn’t this working? Instinctually and thoughtlessly Jester rests two fingers to the pulse at Beau’s neck, fully expecting a beat beneath the surface, which is why when she doesn’t find one she chokes. Unwittingly, tears spring to the corners of her eyes and she cannot believe that this is real, that this is something that is happening. She grabs at Beau’s wrist and checks there--nothing. 

“Beau,” she says quietly, holding her fingers and waiting. “Beau.” Nothing. “Beau, Beau, Beau, oh my god, oh my god.” The tears finally spill over as she scrambles for her pouch, clawing through for diamonds. She cries out when she can’t find them and yanks off her entire belt, sending components scattering across the icy floor, but it doesn’t matter because there they are, beautiful and glittering in the dim light.

Jester grasps them victoriously in her hand and frantically scatters the gems across Beau’s body. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and calls out to the Traveler for the power to complete the spell. “Bring her back please,” she pleads over the grunting and yelling coming from deep inside the cavern.

His abrupt presence brings with it a wave of sweet relief. She feels him here before he even touches her, like a phantom limb. His hands curl around her shoulders and he leans in close to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he says regretfully. “I cannot.”

Jester pulls from his touch and spins to face him. “Why?! It’s just like Caduceus, we did that before. We don’t need the Wildmother, you’re powerful enough on your own I know--”

He reaches out a cloaked arm and cups her cheek in his hand. “My sweet Jester, it’s been too long. She’s beyond my reach with that spell. I am truly sorry.” He sighs and before Jester can argue, he’s gone.

Fear seizes her heart as she turns back to Beau’s body. She tries to breathe (she is panicking, this she knows for certain) but the only thing that comes out is a hollowing gasp. She waited too long. She waited too long and because of that Beau is dead. Beau is dead and she can’t bring her back.

In the stories, good people don’t die, and this is the sealing fate on all her fantasies.

Somewhere behind her, the dragon dies. Jester’s violent sobs are masked by victorious cheering, and they echo in harmony down the cavern; cruel mimicry of each other. A mockingjay’s song.

She presses the diamonds into Beau’s chest with all the strength she has left, harder and harder and harder, until they begin to leave indents in her skin. Jester pushes outward again with the magic she used to bring life back to Caduceus. She is a healer, this is what she does, this is her job, this is her only job, this is the reason she’s here and sometimes she’s shitty at it but sometimes she’s good too and she needs to be good this time, this time and no other time if that’s what it takes, because nothing has ever mattered more than this and she’s trying so hard, she’s giving everything, but Beau is just laying there, still and cold and dead.

Jester grabs the diamonds in her fist, throws them against the cavern wall, and screams. 

Though the world around her is muffled, like someone has put their hands over her ears and started to squeeze her skull, she can tell the cheering has stopped. Now there’s a pounding of footsteps in time with her heart and they’re beating ever closer.

She pulls Beau’s head into her lap and grasps her face with both hands, thrusting any healing magic she has left into her. “Traveler, please!” She begs between incantations. “Please, I need you, she needs help, please, please, please Beau wake up.”

Jester’s hands slip further down, thumbs pressed against Beau’s jawline as her fingers curl around the back of her neck. Gently, she brushes against the pads of her fingers against the short hairs of Beau’s undercut. It’s as soft as she ever imagined, but this isn’t right, this isn’t how the stories go. This is wrong, this is all wrong. They were supposed to have more time.

“You promised!” Jester yells to the open cavern, tears flowing freely. “You promised and where are you?! I need you! I need you to heal her, Traveler, I’m not strong enough, but you are. You are so strong, you can fix this, you can bring her back to me. Please I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted, just--”

The footfalls of her friends finally come to a skidding stop. Someone’s hands grasp her shoulders and try to pull her back, but Jester wraps her arms around Beau’s neck and cuts herself off by screaming “No, Beau! It’s Beau I can’t heal her she’s- she’s--”

“Jester, Jester listen.” That’s Fjord’s voice, pulling the imaginary hands away from her ears and sharpening the world back into focus. It’s his claws digging into the skin beneath her collarbones, not enough to hurt but enough to keep her present in her own mind. “Caduceus can help her, but you have to let go.”

“The diamonds don’t work, I tried. I tried so hard, Fjord.” Jester’s voice is gruff and muffled against Beau’s neck. A shiver passes through her when her lips brush where there should be a pulse, but instead the blood lays still beneath the skin.

“I know. I know. But Caduceus has another spell that will work.” A beat. Neither of them move. “Jester, there’s not much time, let go. She’ll be fine if you just let go.”

He couldn’t pull her away from Beau even if he wanted to. He doesn’t have the brute strength Jester does, nor half the willpower. They both know it.

“I promise,” he says. His voice sounds raw.

She lets go.

There’s a flurry of motion as she sinks back on her knees. Though she’d hoped he’d stay, if only to keep her upright, Fjord pulls his hands off her shoulders and hurries to Caduceus’s side to aid in preparing the spell. The firbolg begins to pull components from his various pouches, Caleb hovering at a safe distance and providing what he can. Nott scurries over and positions Beau’s limbs closer together, less askew. She catches Jester’s eye and says, lightly, “More like she’s sleeping.”

Nott doesn’t know that when Beau sleeps, she takes up the entire bed. Arms spread to either side, legs kicked apart. Nott doesn’t know that when the room is small and they have to share one mattress, Beau apologizes, says she’ll take the floor, and Jester can’t tell her it’s fine fast enough. On those nights their limbs tangle together, Beau’s fingers always find themselves threaded through Jester’s hair. It’s the best she ever sleeps, curled into her best friend, flung out across the sheets. Nott doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know, she’s just trying to help, she’s just trying to make it easier. Jester bites her lip to keep the sob lodged in her throat from escaping.

Reani emerges from the chaos and kneels next to her, looping an arm around Jester’s shoulders and pulling her close to her chest. Jester feels horribly selfish for expecting comfort when her friends are preparing to revive Beau, but still feels a weight lifted from her chest when the aasimar whispers “She was good. Samliel doesn’t kill the good. Not before they’ve served their purpose, anyway, until they’re very old and very grey and Beau is neither, she’s in great shape, actually. Still super attractive. Pinkie will do his job and she will live. It’s okay, it really is.”

Through her tears, Jester gives a watery laugh. She wants to keep Reani forever; siphon some of this surety to keep for herself.

“Hm, okay,” Caduceus says, abruptly. “I think it’s ready now.”

With bated breath, they watch as he calmly cites the incantation. A handful of runes around Beau’s body flare, then go dark. Jester recognizes this, she recalls the balmy evening on the sea when the Traveler taught it to her, it’s revivify. She feels sick when she reaches inside herself and realizes she wouldn’t have had enough magic to cast this spell, even if she’d remembered it’s existence.

But she does remember enough, now, to know what comes next. Caduceus looks around at each of them in turn and says “Three of you need to contribute to the ritual.”

“Contribute?!” Nott says in a low, whispery screech, as though she could wake the dead. “What, with like our blood?”

“No, no, nothin’ like that.” Caduceus sighs, wary and placating. “More like gifts. Or words, if that’s easier. Something to convince her to come back, is all.”

There’s another prolonged silence where they all glance at each other, tight-lipped and nervous. None of them want this burden. It’s so heavy.

Finally, Fjord lurches forward. “I’ll go, then.”

He sits awkwardly on his knees beside Beau’s body, hands clasped in his lap. He swallows once, adam’s apple bobbing, then clears his throat. “I, uh, I don’t have anything to give you. Nothing material, anyhow. And I am not entirely sure how this is supposed to work,” he breathes out in something like a laugh, “but I know that you’ve been there with me since the beginning. Through everything with Uk’otoa and my powers vanishing, our time at sea, saving me from Yasha. You’ve never left my side, no matter how rough things have gotten.”

Fjord pauses and takes a deep breath. He tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Beau’s shoulder, bowing his head. His voice is low, a mutter indicative of his embarrassment.  “We, uh, we had a saying, back on my ship. You’ve gotta be willing to put as much faith in your first mate as you do in the boards beneath your feet, otherwise you’re setting out to sink. And it--heh--it sounds ridiculous now, but what that means is that you can’t be expected to make any journey without someone to fall back on, to put your trust in. You’ve been that for me, keeping me in line, doing right by me no matter how much I seem to fuck things up. You… you can’t go before I get to return the favor. You and I, we promised to check each other. This is me telling you it’s not your time, first mate. There’s still work to be done.”

Jester’s heart constricts. She wants to touch him, but he sits across the ritual and she can’t bring herself to reach over Beau’s body, no matter how sad he sounds, how horribly lost. So she stays still and lets her tears wet the torn skirt of her dress. Reani links their arms together and whispers “That was very sweet, Fjord.”

Her words seem to knock him from a daze. Fjord squeezes Beau’s shoulder once before shuffling back and crossing his arms over his chest, a blush rising in his cheeks. He looks to Caduceus. “How was that?”

“We’ll see,” Cad replies, but he nods approvingly. “Who’s next?”

Jester feels the pounding of her heart in her throat. She knows Beau better than anyone else, here and maybe anywhere, she should be volunteering. All her friends are watching her, they’re waiting on her, they’re getting confused. It was Jester they found cradling her body, begging her god to bring Beau back. Jester is her best friend. Jester always has something to say. Why is she so quiet now? 

Here it is: she can’t speak. Even if Jester had an answer, she wouldn’t be able to say it, her chest tight and vision blurry. There are so many things she wants to tell Beau, the little moments, the small comforts, what they all meant to her. Bits of her heart she’s only ever shared with the Traveler. But she’s messed up so much these past few months, neglecting her healing and making things strange with Fjord and that stupid letter to Astrid, putting her mama in danger. Beau is something she can’t afford to ruin. She’ll never, ever forgive herself if she does.

Caleb kneels in the same place as Fjord and catches Jester’s downcast eyes. He bows his head, just slightly, and raises his eyebrows. She feels more tears prick at the corners of her eyes and shakes her head vehemently.

“I’ll go,” he announces, not breaking her gaze. 

Caleb sees her for who she is in this moment, broken pieces all exposed, and that is enough.

He grabs the two the two splintered pieces of Beau’s staff and holds them together, sad eyes darting back and forth between the monk’s slack face and his own bloodied hands. Two lodestones gathered near him, he begins to mutter something indistinguishable. After a silent minute, the wood grows back, reaching across the break and mending the staff.

“This won’t be enough. This will never be enough,” Caleb says with ferocity. “Not for what you’ve done for me. For listening, for caring enough to argue. Even when we are not on good terms you show me compassion. It has not been… common. In my life. To have someone who holds and refuses to let go. You have done that for nearly as long as this group has been travelling together. You are what makes us a family, ja? All of us on our own, we are strong, but you are the one who keeps us from spiralling out of control. You are the glue.” 

Caleb’s voice thickens with emotion and he clasps Beau’s shoulder, both in the shadow of Fjord and the hundred other times he’d done to previously: grasping at Beau when looking through Frumpkin’s eyes, a pale hand on blue fabric, her fingers wrapping over his to keep him steady. Jester hadn’t ever thought she’d paid all that much attention, but the memories come to her in vivid clarity. 

Children of the Empire, realizing they may have been on the wrong side of history all along. Children of the Empire, pulled from the asylum, pulled from the monastery, set upon this path. Children of the Empire, all grating personalities and heated arguments turned vows and sibling affection. Children of the Empire, grounding posts for one another.

“I-ah-I owe you so much, more than a bit of wood or words. You are still needed, Beauregard. More than you know.”

Caleb bows his head, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and stands. With a blink of a tentative smile towards Jester, he shuffles back into the shadows, eyes darting across the scene. Even from her spot by the ritual, Jester can see his forearms are more irritated than usual. He continues to scratch at them vigorously, pale red against bright white scars. 

She has to remind herself that they can heal. They can heal. 

“I’ll go,” Jester murmurs, and her friends glance to her sharply. She looks up at each of them in turn. “I’ll be the last contribution.”

No one motions her forward. The air has been sucked from the cavern. This is the last chance to get their monk back. They all know it and it hangs over them, dark and heavy as storm clouds.

Careful not to smudge the runes, Jester pulls away from Reani’s embrace and grabs Beau’s limp hand in her own. She doesn’t know what is too intimate and what is not, she’s never had to think about before, never cared for anyone like this. It’s always come so easy but now she’s Beau’s last hope and the feeling of her best friend’s fingers intertwined with hers is at once not enough--never enough--and so excruciatingly overwhelming that she wants to let go, scorched with want.

But she doesn’t, despite the whisper in her ear that says this is going to spiral out of control. Instead, she brings Beau’s hand to her lips and whispers please against the skin, barely a breath. Gathering courage.

Her voice an octave higher than normal, thin and close to shattering, she says: “Hi, Beau. Wish you were here. I mean, really here, all of you. Heh- what is a body without a soul, amirite? Not much it seems, uhm- I-” Jester breaks herself off with a sob. “I need you here Beau. I know I said that I would be the one to protect you and I failed and I’m sorry, I am so so sorry, but you need to come back because I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s always protecting me and I don’t want to be without that anymore. Since we left my mama it’s you who’s made me feel the safest; every time, Beau. Even when it’s a little comfort, or even just a joke, I feel like I am home again, y’know? I mean, the Menagerie Coast is always going to be my real home, obviously, but you’re my home now, too. You’re where I am at ease.”

Jester gives a watery laugh, tucking herself in as close to Beau’s body as she can come. Her voice comes out in a whisper, as though this were no different than the nights they spent awake in the darkness their room, vulnerable and raw. “I’ve never had a best friend before. I’ve never had any friends before Trostenwald. Beau- Beau maybe that’s why this was so hard for me to figure out, y’know? I don’t know a lot about love, not like, romantic love. I mean, I read a lot of smut, but I feel like that’s definitely not the same thing? At least it’s not anything like the way I feel about you, which is just so much more in every way. I don’t know. I don’t know. I needed more time to figure it out, okay?! I needed you to stay here and continue to be smart and beautiful and kind and then maybe I would’ve found a good way to say it but now you’re dead and it’s all my fault and I need you to come back so I can do this right. Please, Beau. I’m just- I’m asking for this one more thing--”

Breathless, Jester drops Beau’s hand, grabs either side of her face, and kisses her. 

It’s nothing like she imagined. It’s still and cold and terrifying, but as Beau’s lips move and she sucks in a breath, Jester knows it’s enough. She pulls away, but leaves her hands, just enough to get a good look at her best friend’s--her something’s--face, renewed with life. 

“No way, that works?!” Nott exclaims at the same time Caduceus says “Well that isn’t something you see every day” and Beau murmurs “What the fuck?”

“You’re back,” Jester whispers. She couldn’t stop the grin growing on her face if she tried. “You came back to us, just like I knew you would.”

Beau blinks, eyes trying to focus on Jester’s face at such close range. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Uh- well- y’know, we all really wanted you back--”

“Do it again.”

So Jester does. 

She thinks that out of all the stories she could have possibly told, reality may be the best one yet.

#cr: fanfiction #critfic #ship: beaujester #beaujester #lavorregard #beau & fjord #beau & caleb #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #fjord #caleb widogast #caduceus clay #nott #reani #beau/jester #campaign 2 #critical role #emma does actually write

[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Thirteen (Finale)

Summary: The show comes to an end.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

“Ahahahaha!”

Dimentio’s maddened laughter echoed into the rumbling air of the late evening, his bright yellow eye examining the man cowering before him. Luigi whimpered in terror, lifting one shaky hand as though to defend himself.

“N-No… you c-can’t...”

Mortified, Luigi scooted back as Dimentio moved to approach him. However, the jester made no motions or indications he’d attack him. He merely surveyed his remaining audience member from afar, the smile on his face twisted upward.

“Ahaha… How scared you must be, like an infant crying out for help in an overflowing bathtub!” Dimentio chuckled, lowering his floating form to stand atop the roof.

His jester garb was stained with blood, dark blotches over hues of sparkling purple and yellow. The bells on his hat jingled as he moved, shifting his gaze.

“No… you c-can’t… n-no… no, no, no… can’t be… you aren’t real…”

“Why, I can't help but say I’m offended, Luigi. I am no mere illusion!” Dimentio smiled, making a dramatic motion with his arms as sparks appeared at his fingertips. “I can assure you, I am very corporeal. But, I compel you to have no fear, man in green. I even brought you a gift, as some consolation.”

Dimentio lifted something small, the tiny object twinkling as it reflected the light of the moon. Revealing the small band of gold squeezed between his fingers, Dimentio threw it to the ground casually in front of Luigi.

Luigi immediately regained himself, hastily scrambling to catch the ring as it clinked and rolled along the shingles of the roof, narrowing falling off. Luigi snatched it up, gasping for air. He held the ring close, clutching a fist protectively around it.

Luigi breathed a short gasp of relief before flinching in fear as he felt a pressure clamp down on his shoulder.

“I suppose your union didn’t last as long as you thought it would, hm? A shame.” Dimentio laughed in Luigi’s ear.

Luigi wept silently, eyes hazy as he ran his fingers over the dried blood on the ring, blue darkened stains coating it.

“P-Peasley...” He choked on his painful cries, hiccuping as his shoulders heaved. “No... no, no, I-I... he... w-why...?”

“I must say,” Dimentio removed his hand from Luigi’s shoulder, circling around the shivering man to face him in the eyes. “The foolish prince lasted much longer than I expected! And you really have to admit, Luigi, it was quite a fun trick!”

“You…” Luigi inhaled, holding back tears. “Y-You took e-everything… f-from me…”

“Well, that was the point, was it not? I’m simply keeping with my promise from the beginning. Don’t you remember my letter?” Dimentio chuckled, leaning forward. “To think, all that time from then to now has led up to this very moment! Our confrontation, alone, without any interference from your so-called 'loved ones'…”

“M-Murderer...” Luigi finally managed to spit out, trying to raise his body in defiance.

“Ah, there’s no need to hurt my fragile feelings!” Dimentio whined childishly before bursting into laughter. “Why, this show was orchestrated purely for your entertainment! I acted the part accordingly, and you should really appreciate your host’s efforts.”

A whimper was all Luigi could get out in response, breaking down into hurried sobs and shrieks.

“Why couldn’t you just let me d-die?! W-What now…? Y-You’re just going to keep tormenting m-me…? Is that what you want?!”

The abrupt scream left Dimentio silenced, for a moment. He paused, curling his fingers.

“...Not exactly. Though that may have been my initial goal, tormenting you and watching you fall apart, it is no longer what I seek. But I cannot lie, that would be quite the amusing thing to watch!” 

Dimentio’s floaty tone danced in the wind, practically twisting around Luigi and asphyxiating him as the evening air grew thick.

“But, no. You see, as I sat rotting away in the deepest and darkest pit of the Underwhere, locked up in a damp and cold cell with only my thoughts as accompaniment, I couldn’t help but begin to think and ponder on what had led to my demise...”

Luigi cautiously watched as Dimentio moved. The harlequin clicked his fingers together, almost anxiously.

“My plan should have gone perfectly! I should have been able to easily wipe out all dimensions! But all my efforts were swiftly foiled by some wandering heroes and the power of...” Dimentio cringed, gagging. “Love.”

He brushed himself off, clearing his throat.

“But-! As I started to think, I finally understood my shortcomings, and strangely enough, they all seemed to circle right back to... you…”

Dimentio’s tone snarled and lowered dangerously, a shiver crawling up Luigi’s spine.

”YOU were the reason everything went wrong. You were weak. Weak, afraid, and powerless. You were unable to create a being capable of destroying all worlds, even with mine and the Chaos Heart’s influence.” Dimentio spat, looming over Luigi as every word he spoke dripped with absolute hatred. Luigi continued to cower in fear, not wanting to further enrage the jester standing before him.

“But… I couldn’t stop thinking. You were supposed to have been the perfect vessel as foretold, and yet I still failed. So, tell me, man in green, how could that be?” 

Dimentio’s tone softened, the harlequin lowering himself back to the ground as he relaxed and exhaled. Momentarily, he waited, simply letting the breeze past by. His cape gently swayed in the wind.

"Forgive me, plumber, if I’m moving through all this too quickly. I suppose you must be wondering why I saved your life in the first place, correct…?"

Dimentio amusedly lifted a finger to his cheek, grinning.

”Certainly, you must think I want nothing more than to see you as a colorful splatter on the ground, right?" His voice fell to almost a whisper, but still maintained that ever-familiar malicious tone to it. "Wouldn’t it be better to let you live and suffer, than to let you perish and fall to such an unceremonious fate?”

The jester snickered before allowing his tone to become serious.

“I have no intentions of seeing harm come to you, Luigi. Instead, I wanted to offer you something… something you refused ever so long ago.”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Well, why else would I be here? Why else would I have saved you from such an early demise?” Dimentio laughed, amused. “Why, I’m here to ask if you’ll join me!”

Luigi froze. “...W-What?”

“Ahaha, as I previously questioned, how was it that I failed even when I was supposed to be an invincible and perfect being of destruction? With the ideal vessel and the Chaos Heart in my hands, there was no possible way I could fail… That is, unless, there were complications with the man I supposedly had under my control.”

Luigi stiffened.

“Think about it. Even if I was controlling you with that Floro Sprout, those little seedlings can only last so long. They’re not meant to control people for such extended periods of time, especially under such strenuous conditions. I couldn’t keep you restrained to the Chaos Heart forever.”

Dimentio smiled, floating toward Luigi and getting close to his face, his laughter ringing in his ears.

“So… that’s when I came to the conclusion that I had to make you willingly agree to working with me again, in order to create a perfect world!”

“W-What?”

“All I had to do was escape from the Underwhere and concoct a show meant to make you bend, and break, and ultimately… shatter…!” Dimentio explained maliciously. “Then, the fertile subconscious of your mind would be rather easy to take hold of! Just a bit of coaxing is necessary, hm?”

Tears beginning to streak down Luigi’s face. The terrified brunette could only shake his head in terror. “N-No…”

“Ahahaha! As I told you before, you and I both contain parts of each other within our souls. Being fused together has that effect, wouldn’t you believe?” Dimentio’s grin stretched unnaturally.

“We each hold shadows of the Chaos Heart inside of us, pulsing and thumping away within our own chests. It controls parts of you, as much as you may hate to admit it. Much like how you hate to admit that we are much more alike than you want to believe. We’re apart of one another, Luigi.”

“No… I would n-never help you… y-you m-monster…! I-I’m not like… y-you…!”

“Hmm, hmm. That’s what I expected you to say.” Dimentio’s smile refused to waver. “So, what’s the alternative, man in green? A life of solitude, constantly shrouded in eternal darkness and suffering as the rest of the world grows weary from despair? Perhaps end your game to cease the pain? What good would that do? Everyone is mourning the tragedy left in the wake of the show, and you’ll just let that continue? Think of your poor brother, Luigi. Imagine how upset he would be.”

”You…” Luigi inhaled shakily, voice practically inaudible now. “Y-You j-just want to destroy i-it all…”

“If you were to join me, Luigi, all of the sorrow you’ve ever experienced could disappear. This world could start over. It would be a clean and empty slate for us, to conjure a perfect world without pain or suffering. No one would cry out for answers and beg some deity for salvation in the horror of hardship, like a desperate peasant at the feet of a malevenont ruler. Everyone would be happy, and perfect. Nothing would be out of place, or incorrect.”

“S-Shut up…”

Dimentio grinned. “You may keep up that act for as long as you wish, but I know your true emotions. I’m sure Mr. L had to have come from somewhere, right? That deep resentment you hold in your heart against your brother’s neverending fame, and the world that has wronged you… always left behind and discarded in favor of your much-loved heroic sibling? Wouldn’t you love to be the hero for once? You’d be more than that, even. You’d be a King. A God.”

“N-No… stop…”

“Even now, the Chaos Heart stirs within you, begging to be used to its full potential yet again! Who are you to refuse it’s call?” Dimentio pressed a hand down on Luigi’s chest for only a moment, just to feel the panicked beats within.

“You could BE something, Luigi. You could be so much more than what you are now, a second choice to everyone. A joke.”

Luigi’s head was cloudy, his thoughts jumbling. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage, threatening to tear apart his chest and rip out of his body. He couldn’t breathe steadily anymore.

“Stop it, stop it, s-stop it…” Luigi shoved Dimentio aside, trying to stand up now, wobbling.

“If not for yourself, then what of those who are suffering? What of those who died?” Dimentio’s smile finally turned to a frown. “After all, it’s your fault they’re dead. You didn’t protect them. You were weak. You failed them.”

“STOP!”

“But, that doesn’t mean you can’t try again. You could restart everything. In our perfect world, we could bring them back!” Dimentio exclaimed excitedly, lifting his hands.

”Y-You’re lying…! YOU’RE LYING!”

“I can’t promise they’d be perfect duplicates, but they’d be enough for you. They’d contain all the traits you loved about them, beings created just to adore and admire you. You’d be their ruler, as you brought them life. They’d forever live in your debt, always be there to listen to you when you needed them… You could bring them all back, Luigi. You could undo this, if you just work with me.”

Luigi went to scream something in protest, but all that emerged from his throat was a strangled shriek. He sputtered, bursting into quivering sobs. 

“Please… I-I don’t… no...”

“We can make a perfect world. If we work together once more, we’ll have complete control over these pitiful dimensions. We could end the pain and suffering of this world, and create a perfect one in its place. Anything you desire could be possible.”

Dimentio outstretched his hand.

“So what do you say, man in green?” Dimentio grinned. “Shall we make a perfect world?”

“No… wrong… m-monster…”

“What else do you have to live for? Your brother? Oh, let’s be honest here. He couldn’t care less about you, Luigi. You didn’t even think or care to tell him of all the suffering you’ve had to endure. Your bond isn’t admirable. It’s weak, much like you. Wouldn’t you much rather prefer it to be flawless, without any imperfections?”

Luigi couldn’t think anymore. His chest ached. He felt like throwing up. His head spun, his heart and mind pulsing and pounding painfully.

He didn’t know what was happening. Everything hurt.

“Come now, Luigi.” Dimentio moved closer, floating down to stand in front of him, moving his hand slightly. He smiled, seeming oddly genuine. “Everything will be better if you just agree.”

Luigi shifted, moving his hands from his sides. 

He let Peasley’s wedding ring slip out of his fingers, the small item clinking unceremoniously as it rolled away and out of sight.

Luigi no longer cared. This world meant nothing to him.

The next world… his world… It would truly be perfect. He could make everything right again.

Luigi took Dimentio’s hand, to which he was met with a maddened laugh.

“Ahahahaha! Excellent!”

Luigi was limp, allowing the smiling jester to lift him up to his feet.

“You made the right choice, Luigi.” Dimentio explained, chuckling darkly. “Once all worlds fall, they’ll be recreated in our perfect image, and we will have complete control over all. There will no longer be sadness or pain. You will feel truly invincible.”

Dimentio paused, his malicious smile widening as he stared down at his broken puppet, the brunette’s blue eyes dulled and sunken against his pale features.

“Ah,” Dimentio smiled, narrowing his eyes gleefully as he giggled. “But there’s just one little thing we need to take care of first… Come now.”

Dimentio turned, noticing Luigi’s sluggish hesitation. The jester guided him along, lifting a gloved finger and pointing toward the sun creeping over the horizon.

“Perfect timing, in fact.” He lifted a hand, turning his head. “See, I had mentioned the audience participation component, had I not? My show isn’t over just yet, Luigi…”

Dimentio laughed cruelly.

“Why, we’ve still yet to have our finale!”

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

There was a sturdy knock upon the front door, the sound briefly resounding off the walls of the aging home that two famed brothers had lived in for many years.

“Coming!”

Luigi barely reacted to the shout, his eyes lidded as he slowly glanced up. His hands trembled at his side, skin pale and clamping at the fabric of his pants anxiously as his body quivered. The front porch creaked under his weight as he stepped back slightly, his dull eyes lifting as the doorknob clicked.

“Who’s there-...?” 

Mario loudly gasped as he joyfully leapt forward, pulling Luigi into his arms. 

“Weegie!”

Luigi didn’t react.

“Weeg! It’s-a so good to see you, bro!” Mario examined his brother at arm’s length, smiling. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Luigi didn’t respond, only nodding. He moved to step past Mario.

“You look a little better. But, if you aren’t, just lemme know.” Mario smiled warmly, noticing Luigi’s movements. He quickly straightened his shoulders, moving aside to let Luigi in. “Any news with Peasley?”

Luigi refused to answer.

“Bro? You okay?”

Luigi still didn’t talk, only nodding.

“If you say so… eheh, y-you’re-a kinda freaking me out, bro.” Mario nervously chuckled when Luigi still gave no reaction. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to start a conversation. “I-I, uh, I tried to find out what happened to the Princess, but I still haven’t been able to figure much out… Did you?”

Luigi didn’t even face his brother now, only breathing as he looked away, as though he were staring intently at the wall.

”Luigi…?”

Mario slowly reached for his brother, moving to grip his shoulder and steady him.

”Weeg. Hey. Do you need to talk? I’m right here, don’t worry, I-“

As soon as Mario placed his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, Luigi stiffened and spun around, grabbing onto Mario’s forearm. Mario fearfully stared at his brother, trying to slip out of his tight grip. He’d never seen Luigi acting so strange before.

“B-Bro? Hey, let go of me-”

Luigi’s grip was impossibly tight, digging into skin as he shoved his brother to the side, a light spark of static electricity coursing through Mario’s body as he was flung back into a nearby bookshelf. He hit the wall with a faint crack, the shelf nearly tumbling on top of him. Mario hastily moved out of the way, eyes wide as he breathed in heavy spurts. Feverishly, he glanced up at his younger brother, terrified.

“Luigi?!”

Luigi stood tall, huffing as he tried to gather air into his lungs. He glanced down, dull eyes unmoving as he stared at his elder brother. Mario shivered as he limped forward, trying to stand.

“Weeg, w-what in Grambi’s name has gotten into you?”

“Mario...” was all Luigi could choke out before his words shattered into fractured mumbles. “I... He…”

Mario tried to stand, grabbing onto Luigi’s arms and screaming for some sort of coherent response. “Luigi, what’s wrong with you?!”

Luigi grit his teeth, releasing a growl as he shoved Mario off of him and grabbed his arm, nearly snapping it out of place as he pushed him back down to the ground.

Mario groaned, squeezing his eyes in pain, trying to stand again. His limbs quivered as he tried to lift himself back up. Luigi simply watched his efforts, unmoving.

“Bro, help me… please…” Mario attempted. “L-Luigi…?”

“Ahahahahaha! What a fun reunion!”

Mario glanced up, horrified as all the fears he’d been trying to push away struck his heart at once. He gasped for air, a glare tightening on his face as he screamed, terror soon replaced with rage.

“Y-YOU!”

“Yes, yes. Me.” Dimentio jubilantly spoke, folding his hands as he landed in front of the struggling Mario. “The master of dimensions and pleaser of crowds! The magical and fantastical Diment-”

“You bastard!” Mario screamed as he interrupted Dimentio’s spiel. He heaved, trying to force himself back up to his feet. Traces of static and electricity pulsed at his limbs, forcing his efforts to be quite minimal. He caught Luigi’s gaze, his brother now standing behind Dimentio. “What have you done to him?!”

“Why, I’m just putting on a harmless show, hero.” Dimentio lazily moved his hand, smiling. “What’s so wrong in that? I did nothing to harm your brother.”

Dimentio laughed as Mario finally forced himself up, the hero screaming as he moved to punch Dimentio square in the face. But before the blow could land, Dimentio snapped his fingers and trapped him in a golden box, effortlessly stopping any of Mario’s efforts.

”Suppose you’re just as weak as your brother, then, hm?” Dimentio chuckled as he floated backward, circling around Luigi. “Guess it runs in the family!”

“GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!” Mario shrieked, pounding against the glass of the yellow box. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“Ah, Mario, but the dear man in green gave himself up willingly to work at my side. He wants to end all worlds with me.”

”YOU’RE LYING!” Mario shoved his weight against the box repeatedly, crying out. “LUIGI!”

“Isn’t it sad? He didn’t tell you anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing, about how much pain he was in. He was suffering so much, and you didn’t so much as bat an eye. He tried to end his own life, and you had no idea. Some brotherly bond you had, hm~?” Dimentio cackled madly, raising his fingers, poised to snap at any moment. “I’m sure you’d much prefer it if I just put you out of your misery.”

Mario paused, shrinking back momentarily. He glanced up, staring at Luigi. A stab of guilt drove through his chest, tears slipping down his cheeks as his expression relaxed.

”Luigi…” He inaudibly mouthed before raising his voice, tears forming in his eyes. His voice trailed off. He’d never felt so ashamed. “I’m s-sorry... I’m so sorry… I should’ve known better…!”

Luigi turned away.

”Bro, you have to snap out of it! He isn’t going to help, he just wants to hurt you! He’s going to kill everyone!”

“That IS the point, Mario. Luigi is well aware. Don’t act like your brother’s so dense, dear hero in red.” Dimentio chided, lifting a finger. “We’re going to construct a perfect world. Just like I originally wanted. It’s ALL I’ve ever wanted.”

His laughter rang out through the Mario brothers’ old home like poison, the malice of months spent suffering and imprisoned seeping through his words and into the floorboards and creaking walls, binding himself into their abode.

“Besides, Mario… I’m afraid there’s no chance I’ll be granting you mercy today. Why…”

Dimentio smiled.

“YOU are our finale, after all!”

He laughed as he finally snapped his fingers, an ear-shatteringly loud BANG ringing out through the small house. Luigi shut his eyes instinctively to shield himself from any debris, lifting his arms to hide his face. He shivered slightly as he slowly realized Mario was still lying there, just on the ground, his chest rising and falling.

Dimentio hadn’t meant to end his game. His explosion had only been just powerful enough to briefly knock Mario unconscious.

It was just enough time to prepare for the final act.

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

Mario awoke groggily, eyes flickering as he came to. He was still lying on the ground, limbs heavy as he tried to roll over or stand, finding himself unable to.

“Had a nice rest, did you, hero?”

Mario trembled in anger as he glanced up, meeting eyes with the mismatched gaze of the malevolent jester whom he’d had brief nightmares about during his forced slumber. He seemed preoccupied.

“It’s always nice when the participant has plenty of energy for the show.” Dimentio explained gently as he started working on something just outside of Mario’s view. “Wouldn’t want it to be boring, now, would we?”

A thick scent enveloped the air surrounding the two, the foul-smelling odor forcing Mario to scrunch up his nose.

“Where… is… m-my brother?” Mario coughed up thin strands of saliva mixed with blood, trying to force himself into standing. All attempts left him exhausted, lying on the ground and sputtering for air.

“Elsewhere. He’s preparing for his cue.” Dimentio smiled. “In the meantime, I wanted to show you something while we were waiting.”

Mario’s hazy vision left him unable to comprehend where Dimentio was moving, his gaze naturally falling toward the ground as he attempted studying his breathing.

A blur of gold, with accents of sapphire and crimson, was placed in front of his eyes. His mind stirred.

“I wanted to keep it as a personal trophy. A prize, if you will. But… I think you’d appreciate it more.”

Mario’s chest tightened, tears slipping down his cheeks.

It was the Princess’s crown.

“P-Princess…” Mario whispered in disbelief, almost as though this was all some cruel trick. “No… no, she… My Princess…”

“She lasted long. I’ll grant you that knowledge. Ah, if we had time, I’d be willing to show you her whole demise. It was quite a fun part of our show…” Dimentio grinned, noticing Mario’s complexion, paling horrifically as he came to terms with what had happened and who he had failed. “And I see you’re breaking apart too, like a vase knocked over by a careless toddler on a summer day.”

“Peach…”

Dimentio turned with a hum and smile, his yellow eye flickering as he tilted his head. Bells jingled, the jester standing tall to attention.

“I believe it’s time, then. We mustn’t waste a single second more.” Dimentio faced Mario. “Oh, do forgive me, dear red hero. I’m just so eager to finally have my perfect world~!”

Dimentio lifted his hands, sparks pulsing at his fingertips.

“It’s time for our grand finale! Luigi...! That’s your cue!”

Mario glanced up, mortified as he watched his younger brother approach. Luigi started forward mechanically, the light sound of liquid trickling following his steps. Mario’s eyes widened, quickly realizing Luigi was pouring a trail of gasoline at his side.

“L-Luigi… n-no…” Mario whispered in protest. All he could think about was how he had failed his brother. He didn’t protect him from Dimentio and all the tricks he had up his sleeve. He didn’t protect the Princess. He didn’t protect anyone.

He wasn’t a hero at all.

“All it’ll take is a single spark, Luigi.” 

Dimentio’s taunting voice quickly brought Mario out of his thoughts.

Luigi fiddled with his hands, breathing heavily. Every part of him was screaming, begging him to come to his senses and stop this madness.  They told him Dimentio was lying, and he would never let him recreate the world he wanted. They warned him to just grab his brother and run far away. 

But, the piece of the Chaos Heart that stirred deep within his chest had the loudest voice of all.

Finish the show.

“Every show must come to an end, Luigi.” Dimentio reminded. “Prove yourself.”

Mario’s cries and pleads went unheard as Luigi’s mind numbed, thoughts growing unbearable. He crouched down, leaning over to the growing pile of gasoline he’d created at his feet.

A single electrical spark appeared at his fingertips, briefly alighting his palms and trembling fingers. The tiny sparks hit the gasoline lining the ground, steadily growing quick flames, each sprouting from the spot he’d touched.

“Our grand finale is finally set into motion!” Dimentio laughed, eyes narrowing excitedly as he clapped his hands together. “What a magnificent light show!”

Luigi felt lost, feeling the need to remain, to sit by his brother’s side and perish in the crackling flames beside him. The fire moved fast, consuming and engulfing each of the wooden boards of the house. Impossibly fast.

Mario screamed in terror, trying to get up and run away, but to no avail. He glanced up at his brother, sobbing his name for some hope, some chance he might still be there.

Luigi’s heart stiffened. He moved, reaching out to his brother. 

But, Dimentio lunged forward and grabbed Luigi by the wrist. He snapped his fingers and the two teleported outside of the house to safety, watching as the old house was quickly engulfed by the growing flames. 

Dimentio dropped Luigi to the ground carelessly, chuckling.

“Our show started off so small! And now, we end with such a huge finale! What a performance!”

They watched from a safe distance.

Dimentio cackled in delight as smoke began to pour from the windows and cracks in the wood along the sides of the wooden house, once occupied by the famous Mario brothers. They’d resided in that house for years, having lived out many of their years together, promising each other plentiful and exciting futures.

It was all squandered as the house burst into flame. The flames danced excitedly, growing larger in accompaniment to the sounds of screaming from within.

Luigi felt the need to cry, but no tears emerged from his eyes. He exhaled shakily, staring at Dimentio, who was laughing madly as the light of the fiery blaze reflected upon the shiny porcelain of his mask.

Sparks burst and exploded along the bright destruction presented before him, wooden boards creaking and cracking. 

And through all the crackling fire and bustling embers, Luigi could hear the horrified and pained screams of his burning brother.

Luigi whimpered and hid his gaze, burying his eyes in his dirtied gloves, falling to his knees on the dirt ground.

“What a lovely display. A show-stopper, indeed...” Dimentio mused, delighted with the horrific display as he surveyed the damage. 

The roaring and rumbling flames claimed the aging house, Mario’s screams having now ceased.

Luigi felt his chest tighten.

So many were lost now. His friends. His love. His family…!

It was all his fault. It was all his fault. It was all his fault.

Two Toad siblings who had a bond unbreakable compared to his own. An old friend whom had only wanted to see him happy. A friend who had once been his enemy. A young royal who had only wanted to help. His closest friends who had been with him for years, promising his safety.

His mentor. His husband. His brother.

He’d pushed all of them away.

It was his fault they were gone.

All gone. 

His mind and heart pulsed. He nearly toppled over, heaving for air. He couldn’t so much as see anymore.

He passed out.

                                                - - - - - - - - - -

“Luigi...?”

He shifted, awakening to a bright light. Everything was warm. Comfortingly warm. It felt safe.

“Luigi, wake up now...”

Luigi’s eyes slowly opened, a brilliant whiteness in front of his gaze. He trembled and inhaled, trying to see past his misty vision.

“What…?”

“The show isn’t quite over yet… Your role isn’t finished.”

Luigi bolted upright, Dimentio’s masked smile greeting him as he finally adjusted to the brightness around him. He didn’t quite know where he was, but it felt familiar.

Dimentio lifted Luigi to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he stood in the blankness surrounding him.

“Now, now, Luigi... It’s time for our next show. This performance isn’t stopping so soon. It’s a show that will continue on throughout centuries. And we’ll be the ones onstage, orchestrating it all…”

Dimentio lifted Luigi’s chin, pulling him forward to walk through the nothingness.

“Come now, man in green. It’s time to take our bow. And then, we can work on finally creating our perfect world.”

Dimentio turned around as Luigi finally looked up. 

And Luigi was smiling, his grin matching Dimentio’s own twisted expression.

Everything would be okay. Luigi knew he would make things perfect, for everyone. Everything would be okay.

And though sorrow and tragedy followed their footsteps as they traversed through nothing, they maintained one thought as they continued onward.

“The show must go on.”

                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N: And thus, the curtain of our story comes to a close... For all those who read along with this little tale, I do so hope you enjoyed, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Thanks for sticking around!

#super paper mario #super mario bros #luigi #dimentio #mario #peasley #my fics #writing #tw gore #tw murder #for your entertainment #ill prolly be posting more mario related fics here #from here on out #if anyone is interested #:p #but seriously thanks for reading if ya made it this far #yall the real mvps #tysm for supporting the luigi suffering story