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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch is getting a chance to meet the local Sheriff and to say he is not excited would be an understatement.

Read chapter 9: ‘Addressing the Public’ on AO3

Read it here!

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For his first day off from the grocery, today sure seemed like it was determined to make its mark so he couldn’t possibly forget it. At this point, it was about burned into Stretch’s memory, for sure.

First there was Doris who added her clues into his trick r treat bucket, then the town assholes showed up for their serial killer practice. Then, as a treat, he got to have the double punch of a lunch with Edge, a sweet and sour mixture of possibly flirtatious revelations coupled to an unwanted chat about his own traumas, served warm over some delicious pie.

Now it looked like he was about to get a sequel to the Assholes: Part Deux, the Assholes’ Revenge, in the form of a sheriff filled with blustering indignation and accusations, and all Stretch had was a mouthful of pie to defend himself. Worse, his only witness had already paid the bill and left.

Stretch swallowed his last bite, chasing it down with water when it tried to stick in the back of his throat as he went over possibilities. He could try to explain the situation, but if there was one thing he’d learned from living in Ebott, it was that if a Monster was talking to the cops, it was best to keep it short, sweet, and polite. Don’t try to explain or admit to shit, ‘cause they’d be more than happy to add another line to the list of things to harass you about.

Seriously, he missed being able to shortcut, this whole facing trouble head-on thing wasn’t for him.

The sheriff huffed again, loudly, and it fluffed up his broad mustache like a human-shaped walrus. He propped fists about the size of a baby’s head on his broad hips and growled out, “So? Is that it? You’re here startin’ some trouble in my peaceful little town?”

Stretch looked up into those mirrored sunglasses. If they were standing, Stretch would probably have a couple inches on the guy, but sitting here in the booth the sheriff loomed over him ominously, his own distorted reflection showing back his nervous face.

“no, sir,” Stretch said politely. Stick with the basic, that was good for a start, and hopefully Red would be willing to bail him out if that became necessary. At least Red wouldn’t have far to go.

The rest of the diner was staring, not a single fork was engaged as they watched the latest scene in the town drama unfold. Not that he blamed them, this was probably about the most action they’d seen in weeks, but he did sort of wish someone would be a little concerned rather than eagerly interested. Waiting to see if maybe the local sheriff was gonna slap on some cuffs so they could whip out their phones for a nice tiktok video while he was getting read his rights?

“No?” the sheriff demanded. His sunglasses reflected the overhead light, making Stretch wince back. “I heard you were out there riling up the corn yesterday. And today you were playing dog days with the doggerel boys?”

That was true, except how it wasn’t, and a trickle of sweat was winding its way down Stretch’s spine despite the air conditioning. Before he could wheeze out another ‘no sir’ or any other answer at all, a sudden, booming laugh filled the entire diner, loud enough to echo from the greasy grill before rolling back out to rattle the windows. The sheriff hooked his thumbs into a belt with a buckle so big that could probably double as a satellite dish, guffawing loudly, “Aw, you ain’t in any trouble, I’m just joshing ya, boy!”

Oh. Ohhhh, this was only a little goodnatured small-town hazing, that he could deal with, if he managed to swallow his quivering soul back down where it belonged. Stretch tried on a smile to match the sheriff’s ongoing laughter and found that it fit pretty well, all things considered.

“can’t be joshing, my name is stretch,” Stretch said with cautious humor. “but i guess stretching me would be an entirely different meaning. think they gave that one up in the middle ages.”

The sheriff bellowed out another laugh that practically shook the silverware, actually bending over to give his knee a loud slap. Around them rose other chuckles around mouthfuls of pie and how strange was it that he could feel the difference between people laughing at him and laughing with him. There was a certain fondness in that laughter, in the warm expressions coming his way from townsfolk that he sort of knew; these were people who’d bought their toilet paper and fresh apples from him on any given day, who’d give him waves and smiles when he passed them on the sidewalk and maybe it was an unusual form of kindness, but their humor still made unexpected tears prick in his sockets.

Stretch grabbed his napkin and dabbed hastily at his face as if he were wiping away sweat before anyone could see and misunderstand. How could he explain to them that in all his life, he’d never felt such a wash of overwhelming fondness from anyone except maybe his own brother.

(Not even from the person who’d told him so often and so tenderly that he loved him…until he didn’t, fucking hell, he wasn’t thinking about that right now, he wasn’t.)

The sheriff was obviously no fool and already his expression was softening into remorse, maybe coming up with an apology that Stretch desperately did not want, not for this. Rescue came almost too late and from an entirely unexpected source. Granny Collemore was so short Stretch could only see her steel-gray hair piled up in a messy bun over the top of the booth as she approached, but he heard her hollering well enough.

“Buford, you let that poor boy alone!” There was a smacking sound of a cane hitting flesh and Stretch couldn’t see where the blow struck, but the sheriff, Buford, let out a yelp, hopping on one foot as he frantically rubbed his shin.

“Sam Hill, granny, I was only playin!” he grumbled. He pulled up the leg of his trousers to examine his granny-inflicted wound. There was a reddened welt on the skin, already shading to purple.

“You hush yourself,” Granny huffed, “I’m half-past give-a-shit today and you may be the sheriff in these parts, but you ain’t too old for a hiding!” Granny shuffled into view, her cane hooked over one arm. She reached out with her wrinkled hands and Stretch leaned over obediently to let her to cup his face gently in her palms as she clucked with concern. “Does he look like he’s up for your shenanigans?” she groused loudly, “‘specially since this feller is working over at the grocery with Red, bless his heart.”

“That a fact?” Buford pushed his hat up and offered a crooked smile. “Must be a brave soul, then. Well, you tell that sonavabitch I’m gunning for him this Sunday. He better be there with silver bells on and you tell him that whatever aces are up his sleeves, better make sure they ain’t spades, ‘cause that’s the reverend’s favorite cheat.”

“i’ll do that,” Stretch agreed, a touch bewildered. Hell, he’d thought Red was joking when he said the sheriff was his poker buddy.

That sounded like an exit line, it was starting to look like Stretch was going to make it out of here unscathed, and he might have if Granny hadn’t put in, happily, “Anyhoo, Buford, you just miss seeing Edge. He was here sharing a slice of pie with our new fella.”

Dark eyebrows rose up over those mirrored lenses and Buford hooted a laugh, “Oho, that how it is. On a date with our Edge, were ya.”

Great, that was exactly what he didn’t want getting back to Red. Enjoying a little flirting was one thing, but not if it started the wheels of the gossip train turning. With his luck, it would crash right into a dumpster fire. “uh, no, no dates, just pie.”

He did not expect Buford to suddenly look a little offended, those eyebrows drawing down into a frown behind his glasses. “Why in the Sam Hill not? Ain’t he your type?”

“Uh.” Stretch looked around a little wildly, away from Granny and Buford to see the rest of the diner was still watching them with interest. No, not just interest, there was an awful lot of sly looks there and whispering behind hands, along with soft expressions and doe-eyes…

Oh. Oh, shit, it was worse than he thought. They were invested, everyone in this diner was taking sides and they were choosing the romance option, this was bad, this sort of thing was infectious and the last thing he needed right now was an entire town of matchmakers trying to hook him up with the local hottie. It was like an unsolved Agatha Christie took a sudden, sideways turn into a Hallmark Gyftmas movie.

Buford and the rest of the diner were all waiting for him to explain why he and Edge weren’t dating and Stretch was sitting here, fumbling around at the pass.

“we’re not dating, we’re just—” Stretch coughed awkwardly, hesitating. The truth was ‘it’s complicated’ was probably most accurate, although ‘barely met acquaintances’ was a close second, or even the generic, ‘he’s my boss’s baby bro whose ass i am definitely not staring whenever i see him but also his smile is really nice and—' “—friends,” Stretch finished, lamely.

Buford nodded like he’d offered not a nugget of wisdom, but an entire ten-piece with the tangy sauce. The light reflected in his mirrored gaze as he said, kindly, “That ain’t a bad thing.”

Relieved, Stretch let out an unsteady laugh, “kinda surprised you don't think i'm a cousin or something.”

Buford snorted loudly at that, “Son, you boys don't look a thing alike.”

And that there was another surprise to add to his daily total. In Ebott, Stretch was constantly getting mistaken for Papyrus or Sans, even his own brother once or twice. Half the time, people either didn’t know his name or didn’t care to, and Backwater was a strange place, no question, but that sure didn’t mean it was bad.

Buford didn’t seem to notice his shock as he went on, “Now there’s a boy who could use some en-ter-tainment. Works too hard, damned if he don’t.”

Now that was a clue looking him right in the face and Stretch took the Velma leap and pounced on it, trying for a little discreet nonchalance, “yeah? what does he work so hard at?”

A shame Buford seemed to be pretty quick on the draw. He gave Stretch a shrewd look, “He ain’t told you?”

“no, sir,” Stretch sighed glumly. Seriously, he was the worst Velma ever.

Buford went ahead and poured salt into the open wound with another short laugh, “Naw, I’ll ain’t stepping in that cow pie. I’ll let him talk to ya about that. But see if you can’t get him to slow down for another--” Buford gave him a sly wink and actually hooked his thick fingers into air quotes, “’friend date’, wontcha?”

Then he grunted as Granny Collemore jammed her elbow into his soft gut, tutting loudly, “You never did shake the ants outta your pants did you, Buford! Let those boys alone, they'll go at their own pace.” To Stretch she offered sunny, toothless grin, “Come on, and walk an old lady out.”

“yes, ma’am,” Stretch said. Hey, he might be an idiot, but he was no fool. He stood up, ready to make his getaway, halted only briefly by Buford snatching up his hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake, though his grip was gentle on the delicate bones.

“Welcome to town, Stretch,” Buford told him. For once he was completely serious as he said, low, “and don’t you worry about those boys.” He tapped the side of his nose, his broad finger reflected in his sunglasses. “I know what happened, it’ll be taken care of.”

“i appreciate that,” Stretch said, and he meant it. He turned and followed after Granny, only dodging ahead to hold up the door so she could shuffle out.

“Thank you, sonny,” Granny huffed as she made her slow way through the door. “These old bones ain’t as spry as yours. You should head on home now, there's a storm a’comin'."

Stretch looked up into the cloudless sky in confusion, greeted by endless blue.

“Oh, you can trust me," Granny grimaced and rubbed at her hip, "these joints don't lie."

“i will,” Stretch agreed. After his lesson with the corn, he was taking the townsfolk at their word and if granny said a storm was heading this way, he expected to see clouds blowing in any minute now.

He left Granny to make her way home and headed back to the store. Red only grunted when he came in, didn’t even look up from his book as he hooked an absent thumb towards his apartment. There was a bag sitting on the table and when Stretch looked inside, there was a sandwich neatly covered in plastic wrap, a bag of chisps, and a bottle of juice. He was still full up on pie, but it would make for a nice, simple dinner, good thing he had Red up there looking after him. Maybe he should suggest to Red that he get a tattoo, a nice heart engraved on his arm with ‘Mom’ in the middle, since now he had one.

Stretch took the bag upstairs with him and opened the window. He took a moment to breathe in the already cooling air, a herald to the coming storm.

The book was sitting where he’d left it last night when he’d dragged himself off Red’s sofa, limbs spaghettied from sleep and his mind noodly mush. He’d brought the book along without even thinking about it and now the hardcover seemed to mock him with the necessary knowledge hidden somewhere within those pages.

Welp, there was only one way he was gonna get the info out of it and that didn’t mean beating it against his skull until the words shook out. He picked it up and settled to sit cross-legged on the bed, bracing himself for what might well be hours of boredom as he turned it to the first page.

And frowned. At the top of the page was a family name, ‘Anderson’, along with the date, ‘1884’. There was a short selection of first names beneath it and next to each was what looked like a telephone number and an address.

“what the hell?” Stretch muttered. He flipped to the second page and it was the same thing, only the name was ‘Armstrong’ and there were a lot more first names to go with it, someone was getting busy on the weekends, for sure.

Stretch flipped to the next page, and the next. All of them had the same thing, a last name, then a collection of firsts with a number and an address. Finally, he flipped back to the title page. There, right underneath the scrolling text declaring the book ‘The Informal History of Backwater’ was a tiny addition he hadn’t noticed before, stating in a small, stark font, ‘Municipal Directory.’

For a long moment, Stretch could only stare at it, until the words started floating in his sight. Laughter bubbled up suddenly, fizzing in him like a shaken soda. "sonofabitch," Stretch burst out, snickering madly. The damn thing was a glorified telephone book and Edge had flat-out given him his damned address already, practically gift-wrapped it! And he'd almost refused to take the damn thing! Guy wasn't only sexy, he had jokes and if he wasn't already a treat to the senses, that would have upgraded him to a bone-ified snack.

Address had to be in here, all Stretch needed to do was find it. The book was bigger than he would’ve thought from a small town, but from the look of it, they never took anyone out, only kept adding on. Occasionally next to a name he saw an abbreviated ‘dec.,’ so maybe this was a bit of town history, after all, kind of a family tree, anyway.

It still took him awhile to find their names, flipping through the book. The names were alphabetized, but that didn’t help much when the family he was looking for didn’t have a last name. Finally, under the surname ‘Skeleton’, he found them.

“should’ve tried that to begin with,” Stretch muttered. He read the entry, following along with his finger, only to pause in confusion when it came to the date recorded neatly by their names. It listed them as arriving in town over a decade ago and if that was when they came to Backwater, then whoever printed this needed to proofread a little better, because that was impossible. Monsters had only been on the surface for a couple years, not quite three now, so it had to be a mistake.

Except, Edge struck him as the kind of guy who was pedantic enough that there was no way he wouldn’t bitch until it was fixed; anyone who ate their pie like it was a military maneuver wouldn’t be able to stand such an egregious error. And he’d made sure to give Stretch the book, so he damn well knew he’d be seeing this. So what the hell did all this mean?

What did any of this mean?

Stretch sank back against the wall behind him, tipping his head up so he could stare at the ceiling. There was a crack in the plaster in one the corner, spidering off into a shape like a lightning bolt and that was exactly what Stretch felt like he’d been struck with.

What the hell was this place? Some kind of fairytale, where one day in town was a week on the outside? If he hopped on another bus and made his way to the next town over, would the papers tell him it was next Tuesday or the next century?

It was enough to inspire him to check his messages. Stretch fumbled for his phone, opening the text app for the first time in days. The amount of alerts made him wince but it was the last message that roused that endless ache in his soul back up to true pain.

I understand that you’re hurting, brother. You don’t have to tell me where you are. You don’t even have to call. All I ask is you send me a message every once in a while to let me know you’re all right. Please.

Stretch closed his sockets and swallowed against the sudden knot in his throat. Before he could rethink it, he typed a hasty, i’m all right and sent it, then lurched over to shove his phone into the nightstand drawer, slamming it shut.

Even so, he couldn’t help listening, straining to hear but there was no vibrating buzz, nothing to indicate a return message.

Good enough.

Stretch took a deep, shaky breath, then dragged the book back over and studied the entry again. Red’s address was the store, no surprises there, but Edge was listed under 637 Wood’s End Drive.

Wood’s End. Seriously?

Welp, it was one mystery solved, anyway, even if he’d skipped the meddling kids part. Now all he needed was to plan a field trip.

A sudden flash of lightning lit the room, putting the fake bolt on his ceiling to bitter shame and the sky outside seemed to burst, rain pouring down and pelting through his open window. Stretch scrambled over to slam it closed, shaking away the damp on his hands. All the sunshine from earlier was gone, the sky darkened into angry, swirling storm clouds as the downpour drenched the parched earth.

Yeah, field trip was postponed on account of rain, but not for long. He’d get there and maybe once he showed up on Edge’s doorstep, he’d finally get some real answers.

For now, though, all Stretch wanted was a towel.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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tigerdrop · 4 years

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Hfbbfbhbbbbff stumbles in here. Listen. Uhhhh hl gordo topping the absolute shit out of vr gordos like, fingers shoved in so far in his mouth and Benrey "accidentally" stumbling in to find them and just seeing vr gordos become such a fuckinf mess under hl gordo..... idk it's on the brain now thanks to you and honestly thank you very much

thank you very much for this fantastic idea i took it and ran way too far with it

vr gordon on his knees with a hand in his hair tilting his head back, hl gordon in the HEV suit with 3 fingers fucking his mouth so you know he got those gloves on, just looking him right in the eyes while he does it, vr gordons got his hands wrapped around hl gordons forearm and his thighs spread wide, hes fuckin droolin and flushed and moaning around hl gordons fingers

and then benrey walks in and vr gordon Flips and is like "mpphh mhmhpph" trying to get those fingers out of his mouth and be Normal but hl gordon just grabs his hair tighter and plunges them in deeper and turns to stare right at benrey. doesnt say anything. just gives him an intense, totally unreadable look

gordon getting cucked by hl gordon and not letting himself join in b/c he is emotionally and sexually repressed as all hell is great. but i think it would be really fucking good if hl gordon wordlessly invites benrey to join in. just jerks his head to the side like "get over here"

well, first benrey just stands there, eyes wide and surprised as all hell while vr gordon slaps at hl gordons arm until he takes those fingers out of his mouth. then he starts bitching like "fucking-- go away, benrey, wait a fucking minute here--" until hl gordon leans down and whispers something in his ear that benrey cant make out. but whatever it is, it has an Effect on vr gordon thats kind of like watching a glass of water be poured over his head - his mouth snaps shut, and his face turns a dark, dark red, and he swallows hard as he looks back at benrey. and then back to hl gordon. and then he says, real quiet, "uh. okay"

and then benrey gets another Look from hl gordon and hes like "uhhh. cool. yeah. this is cool" and steps into their circle like his legs are on autopilot cuz hes still like what is even going on, never fuckin seen freeman like that before, this is craaaazy ha ha

(like, okay, in this scenario hl gordon already fuckin knows that vr gordon is into benrey and hes just being a little emotionally-constipated bitch about it. thats the whole reason he nodded at benrey to let him join in anyway. so what hl gordon is whispering into his ear is something along the lines of, like, this is what he wanted to do anyway, right? hl gordon already knows. so why dont u be good for the both of them, gordon?)

then before he knows it, hes standing in front of vr gordon on his knees and casting a shadow over him and vr gordon is so fucking embarrassed right now. but, like, hl gordon wasnt wrong, and he really, really wants to be good for him. (and, you know, for benrey, but if he admits that to himself he might actually fucking die.) hes sweating as he looks up at the both of them, like, "uh, okay, hey. uh. what am i supposed to--"

hl gordon interrupts him by making a fucking obscene motion with his (still spit-slick) fingers, indicating that benrey should do what hl gordon was just doing a second ago. (please note: hes still got his other hand in vr gordons hair.) and benrey looks between the two of them with his hand raised halfway into the air, like, yo, is this cool? is this actually happening? hl gordon gestures at him like, go ahead, bro. and when his hand approaches vr gordons mouth and his fingers alight on his lip, that mouth parts just enough to let him in, even if vr gordons having a really goddamn hard time meeting his eyes.

and benrey slowly starts feelin him from the inside, feeling the slick surface of his tongue and teeth while hl gordon gives benrey encouraging gestures and shows him how best to do it. how to get vr gordon to whimper and drool around his fingers just like he was doing earlier. not that vr gordon needs much help getting there - the humiliation of copping to his feelings like this, on his knees and fellating his frenemys hand, combined with hl gordons fingers gently stroking and scratching his scalp and stroking his ear and jaw as if to say, youre doing good, is getting him 12 different kinds of Fucked Up. hes still too embarrassed by all this to really get back into Whoredon Freeman mode so easily, but the embarrassment is.......really fucking cute. its doing it for benrey. and soon enough, hes got 3 fingers in gordons mouth and is feeling those low noises gordons making just as much as hes hearing them

i just......i think hl gordon is neat......hes just......a really quiet guy that projects this air of almost total confidence just by virtue of not speaking that much (and therefore, never sticking his fucking foot in it) and talking with his hands comes a lot easier than speaking aloud.......and hes a nice guy who doesnt have a problem showing it when its necessary/appropriate but he doesnt abide bullshit b/c bullshit gets people killed, which vr gordon unfortunately has in spades........literally all just fucking made-up personality traits but i just see it very clearly in my head

in my mind he is the polar opposite of vr gordon. like. vr gordon is so desperate to maintain control over his peers and his environment and he mostly just......yells ineffectually and runs around like a big loud rooster trying to peck everybody into place. and clearly that shit dont work out too well for him. so in comparison hl gordon is just......effortlessly confident in what he does and how he acts and people are just naturally inclined to listen to him/take him seriously. or at least he appears that way on the outside - i imagine the guy still has some self esteem issues, both about himself as a person and in his own abilities to Do What Needs To Be Done. just.......being so quiet all the time projects that air

i also imagine that like......his smiles are a bit of a rare thing, too. especially for vr gordon, who spends most of the time rubbing him the wrong way. so when vr gordon does earn one of those smiles, or a thumbs up, or basically any kind of positive attention, it hits extra hard

still thinking about. hl gordon basically......teaching benrey how to fuck vr gordon. in so many words. starting with the fingers.....hes also quietly being encouraging towards benrey, too, communicating that hes doing good at this. (is hl gordon domming both of them at the same fucking time?? youre goddamn right he is.) and benreys tenting the absolute hell out of his slacks by the time hes got vr gordons hand wrapped around his wrist to keep him there, and by the time gordons whining around his fingers and spreading his legs open wider instinctually and jerking his hips a little against the arm hes got shoved down between em for just a little friction

and then hl gordon stops benrey and makes another obscene motion and-- oh. yeah, benrey would like to take care of his boner issue like that, thank you. benreys a little dumbfounded, like, "yo, uhhh, you really wanna suck my dick? friend?" and vr gordons like "oh my god, you didnt have to say it out loud! jesus fucking christ, do not say anything-- not another fucking word--" but hes cut off by hl gordons hand tugging his hair hard enough to make him hiss. "okay, okay, jeez!"

vr gordon shimmies closer and looks up at him, still red, still sweating, drool running down the corner of his mouth and trailing in a translucent string from benreys fingers. still embarrassed. but daring benrey to do as he was told. so benrey unzips himself with shaking fingers and pulls out his dick. hes fully hard already and hl gordons there to guide the both of them how to do it - takes vr gordons hand and curls it into a fist with his thumb tucked inside, guides vr gordons head with the hand still in his hair. pushes him onto benreys dick. and theres something decidedly fucking weird about hl gordons role in this, but hes clearly getting off on it, and so are the rest of them, so theres not a lot of room left for any of them to worry about it

i cannot rightfully allow myself to keep fucking writing this when i still havent finished writing gordon freeman coming untouched but im just fucking frothing thinking about hl gordon showing benrey exactly how to push vr gordons buttons. shows him how to finger vr gordon, which angle he should push gordons legs back to so he can hit just the right spot, guides him to take just the right pace and shows him how gordon likes his hair to be pulled

and benreys so obedient! its a marked difference from how much shit he gives vr gordon at any attempt to control him. vr gordons honestly a little miffed about it, but on the other hand, hl gordon is really good at jerking him around and getting him off and hes a very good teacher. he cant complain

Anyway. See Ya

#asky #writin stuff

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to-read-or-not-to-read3088 · 3 years

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70+ disabled, neurodiverse and chronically ill authors COLLAB

This post is in collaboration with several other bloggers whose links are included here:

Artie Carden

Anniek

Hi! It’s been a while since I posted anything, but this post has been a month in the making. I have twenty books by twenty authors for my part in this collaboration, and you can check out the other parts of the collab with the links at the top of the post.

I haven’t read some of these books but almost all of them are on my to be read pile, and I did extensive research to make sure I got this right, but please let me know if there are any mistakes or if anything needs to be corrected.

1. Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee

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Meet Cute Diary follows Noah Ramirez who thinks he’s an expert on romance. He must be for his blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem. All the stories are fake. What started off as the fantasies of a trans boy who was afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe. Noah’s world unravels when a troll exposes the blog as fiction, and the only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. That’s when Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place. Drew is willing to fake date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realises that dating in real life isn’t the same as finding love on the page.

The author, Emery Lee, is a kid lit author, artist and YouTuber hailing from a mixed racial background. After graduating with a degree in creative writing, e’s gone on to author novels, short stories and webcomics. When away from reading and writing, you’ll likely find em engaged in art or snuggling with cute dogs.

Emery Lee is nonbinary, and uses e/em pronouns, and e’s debut book, Meet Cute Diary, features a side character who is also nonbinary (and asexual!). Emery is also neurodivergent, and frequently speaks about what its like being a writer with adhd on twitter.

Meet Cute Diary is a book I only discovered last month, when it was published, but I’m excited to read it. It has representation of all kinds, and I love any book that has even a little mention of an asexual character because its so rare to see.

2. Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

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At Niveus Private Academy money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because an anonymous texter calling themselves Aces, is bringing two students’ dark secrets to light. Devon, a talented musician, buries himself in rehearsals, but he can’t escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Chiamaka, head girl, isn’t afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they’re planning much more than a high school game.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, is the author of the instant New York Times and IndieBound bestseller, Ace of Spades, billed as ‘Get out meets Gossip Girl’. Entertainment Weekly has called it “this summer’s hottest YA debut”. She was born and raised in Croydon, South London, and Faridah moved to the Scottish Highlands for her undergraduate degree where she completed a BA in English Literature. She has established and runs and mentorship scheme for unagented writers of colour, helping them on their journey to get published. Faridah has also written for NME, The Bookseller, Readers Digest and gal-dem.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé’s book is one that I pre-ordered months in advance, after discovering that I actually really liked this sub-genre of YA, and although I still haven’t read it yet (sorry!), I’m still super excited to dive into it. From what I hear, it has some gay rep, which we all know by now is something I seek out in my books.

3. Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O’Neal

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Priya has worked hard to pursue her pre med dreams at Stanford, but a diagnosis of chronic Lyme disease during her sophomore year sends her straight back to her loving but overbearing family in New Jersey and leaves her wondering if she’ll ever be able to return to the way things were. Thankfully she has her online pen pal, Brigid, and the rest of the members of “oof ouch my bones,” a virtual support group that meets on Discord to crack jokes and vent about their own chronic illnesses. When Brigid suddenly goes offline, Priya does something very out of character; she steals the family car and drives to Pennsylvania to check on Brigid. Priya isn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t the creature that’s shut in the basement. With Brigid nowhere in sight, Priya begins to puzzle together an impossible but obvious truth: the creature might be werewolf – and the werewolf might be Brigid. As Brigid’s unique condition worsens, their friendship will be deepened and challenged in unexpected ways, forcing them to reckon with their own ideas of what it means to be normal.

Kristen O’Neal is a freelance writer who’s written for sites like Buzzfeed Reader, Christianity Today, Birth.Movies.Death, LitHub and Electric Literature. She writes about faith, culture, and unexplained phenomena. Her debut novel, Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses is based on her own experiences with being chronically ill. Kristen has two autoimmune disorders and “a number of other problems and issues” with her body. According to her website, she is doing much better than she used to, but still has flares somewhat regularly.

I cannot describe the feeling of seeing a published book with the best group chat name I have ever seen. Oof ouch my bones is absolutely something that I would be part of if it really existed, because its just such a mood, and funny at the same time. I pre ordered this book too, but like all the others, I still haven’t gotten around to reading it. I’m super excited about it though and cannot recommend it enough.

4. Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

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Will Tavares is the dream summer fling – he’s fun, affectionate, kind – but just when Ollie thinks he’s found his Happily Ever After, summer vacation ends, and Will stops texting Ollie back. Now Ollie is one prince short of his fairy tale ending, and to complicate the fairy tale further, a family emergency sees Ollie uprooted and enrolled at a new school across the country. Which he minds a little less when he realises it’s the same school Will goes to…except Ollie finds out that the sweet, comfortably queer guy he knew from summer isn’t the same one attending Collinswood High. This Will is a class clown, closeted – and to be honest, a jerk. Ollie has no intention of pining after a guy who clearly isn’t ready for a relationship, especially since this new, bro-y jock version of Will seems to go from hot to cold every other week. But then Will starts “coincidentally” popping up in every area of Ollie’s life, from music class to the lunch table, and Ollie finds his resolve weakening. The last time he gave Will his heart, Will handed it back to him trampled and battered. Ollie would have to be an idiot to trust him with it again. Right? Right.

Sophie Gonzales was born and raised in Whyalla, South Australia, where the Outback Meets the Sea. She now lives in Melbourne, where there’s no outback in sight. Sophie’s been writing since the age of five, when her mother decided to help her type out one of the stories she had come up with in the bathtub. They ran into artistic differences when five-year-old Sophie insisted that everybody die in the end, while her mother wanted the characters to simply go out for a milkshake. Since then, Sophie has been completing her novels without a transcript. Sophie Gonzales tweets about her experiences with ADHD on her twitter.

Only mostly devasted is one of the few books on this list that I’ve read. I read the whole thing in one sitting because I just couldn’t put it down, which is weird because I normally don’t read contemporary at all. I have recommended this book to literally everyone I know, and even bought my best friend a copy to convince her to read it.

5. The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd Jones

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Seventeen-year-old Aderyn ("Ryn") only cares about two things: her family, and her family's graveyard. And right now, both are in dire straits. Since the death of their parents, Ryn and her siblings have been scraping together a meagre existence as gravediggers in the remote village of Colbren, which sits at the foot of a harsh and deadly mountain range that was once home to the fae. The problem with being a gravedigger in Colbren, though, is that the dead don't always stay dead. The risen corpses are known as "bone houses," and legend says that they're the result of a decades-old curse. When Ellis, an apprentice mapmaker with a mysterious past, arrives in town, the bone houses attack with new ferocity. What is it that draws them near? And more importantly, how can they be stopped for good? Together, Ellis and Ryn embark on a journey that will take them deep into the heart of the mountains, where they will have to face both the curse and the long-hidden truths about themselves.

Emily Lloyd-Jones grew up on a vineyard in rural Oregon, where she played in evergreen forests and learned to fear sheep. After graduating from Western Oregon University with an English degree, she enrolled in the publishing program at Rosemont College just outside of Philadelphia. She currently resides in Northern California.

Another book on my to be read pile that I’m super excited to read, but still haven’t gotten around to. This one features disability rep, but because I haven’t read it, I don’t know much more, sorry guys.

6. Mooncakes by Susanne Walker and Wendy Xu

📷Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town. One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home. Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.

Suzanne Walker is a Chicago-based writer and editor. She is co-creator of the Hugo-nominated graphic novel Mooncakes (2019, Lion Forge/Oni Press). Her short fiction has been published in Clarkesworld and Uncanny Magazine, and she has published nonfiction articles with Uncanny Magazine, StarTrek.com, Women Write About Comics, and the anthology Barriers and Belonging: Personal Narratives of Disability. She has spoken at numerous conventions on a variety of topics ranging from disability representation in sci-fi/fantasy to comics collaboration.

Wendy Xu is a Brooklyn-based illustrator and comics artist. She is co-creator of and currently draws the webcomic Mooncakes. Her work has been featured on Tor.com, as part of the Chinese American: Exclusion/Inclusion exhibit permanently housed at the Chinese Historical Society of America, and in Shattered: The Asian American Comics Anthology. She occasionally teaches at the Asian American Writers Workshop and currently works as an assistant editor curating young adult and children’s books.

Suzanne Walker suffers from hearing loss, something that she wrote into her graphic novel, Mooncakes, making Nova hard of hearing. I read this in a few years ago as an advance reader copy for Netgalley and it was honestly one of the best graphic novels I have ever read. The main characters are Chinese American, queer AND magic, which is an amazing combination of representation.

7. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

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Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can’t pull it off alone… A convict with a thirst for revenge A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager A runaway with a privileged past A spy known as the Wraith A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz’s crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don’t kill each other first.

Leigh Bardugo is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of fantasy novels and the creator of the Grishaverse (now a Netflix original series) which spans the Shadow and Bone Trilogy, the Six of Crows Duology, The Language of Thorns, and King of Scars—with more to come. Her short stories can be found in multiple anthologies, including the Best American Science Fiction & Fantasy. Her other works include Wonder Woman: Warbringer and Ninth House (Goodreads Choice Winner for Best Fantasy 2019) which is being developed for television by Amazon Studios.

Leigh grew up in Southern California and graduated from Yale University. These days she lives and writes in Los Angeles.

In the acknowledgements section of Six of Crows, Bardugo reveals she suffers from osteonecrosis and sometimes needs to use a cane; this was a source of inspiration for one of the story's six protagonists, master thief and gang boss Kaz Brekker, who uses a cane.

I read Six of Crows a few years ago and I really loved it. I’m not going to pretend I managed to finish the whole Grishaverse series, because I haven’t even gotten close yet, but it really showed Kaz’s struggles with his disability, and his mental health. This is part of a duology, and the duology is part of a large series of books with another duology and trilogy, but Six of Crows can be read without reading the others.

8. Hyperbole and A Half by Allie Brosh

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This is a book I wrote. Because I wrote it, I had to figure out what to put on the back cover to explain what it is. I tried to write a long, third-person summary that would imply how great the book is and also sound vaguely authoritative--like maybe someone who isn’t me wrote it--but I soon discovered that I’m not sneaky enough to pull it off convincingly. So, I decided to just make a list of things that are in the book: Pictures Words Stories about things that happened to me Stories about things that happened to other people because of me Eight billion dollars* Stories about dogs The secret to eternal happiness* *These are lies. Perhaps I have underestimated my sneakiness!

Allie is an American blogger, writer and comic artist best known for her blog in the form of a webcomic Hyperbole and a Half. Brosh started Hyperbole in 2009 and told stories from her life in a mix of text and intentionally crude illustrations. She has published two books telling stories in the same style, both of which have been New York Times bestsellers. Brosh lives with severe depression and ADHD, and her comics on depression have won praise from fans and mental health professionals.

Another book on my tbr that I just haven’t gotten around to but really want to.

9. The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

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What if you aren’t the Chosen One? The one who’s supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just must find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions...

Patrick Ness, an award-winning novelist, has written for England’s Radio 4 and Sunday Telegraph and is a literary critic for The Guardian. He has written many books, including the Chaos Walking Trilogy, The Crash of Hennington, Topics About Which I Know Nothing, and A Monster Calls. He has won numerous awards, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize, the Booktrust Teenage Prize, and the Costa Children’s Book Award. Born in Virginia, he currently lives in London.

Patrick Ness has written about OCD and anxiety in at least two of his books, inspired by his own experiences with the two disorders and how it affects him (The Rest of Us Just Live Here & Release)

10. Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire

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Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children No Solicitations No Visitors No Quests Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world. But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter. No matter the cost.

Seanan lives in an idiosyncratically designed labyrinth in the Pacific Northwest, which she shares with her cats, Alice and Thomas, a vast collection of creepy dolls and horror movies, and sufficient books to qualify her as a fire hazard. She has strongly held and oft-expressed beliefs about the origins of the Black Death, the X-Men, and the need for chainsaws in daily life.

Years of writing blurbs for convention program books have fixed Seanan in the habit of writing all her bios in the third person, to sound marginally less dorky. Stress is on the "marginally." It probably doesn't help that she has so many hobbies.

Seanan was the winner of the 2010 John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and her novel Feed (as Mira Grant) was named as one of Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2010. In 2013 she became the first person ever to appear five times on the same Hugo Ballot.

Seanan McGuire has an invisible disability due to herniated disks in her spine. She is slowly coming to terms with this, and talks about it occasionally on her twitter, and about the struggles she faces.

I loved this book, and so did my best friend. We both read it in one sitting and talked nonstop about it afterwards. Although short, its filled with amazing characters, plot, and representation (asexual character!!)

11. Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honour they could hope for...and the most demeaning. This year, there's a ninth. And instead 📷of paper, she's made of fire. In this richly developed fantasy, Lei is a member of the Paper caste, the lowest and most persecuted class of people in Ikhara. She lives in a remote village with her father, where the decade-old trauma of watching her mother snatched by royal guards for an unknown fate still haunts her. Now, the guards are back and this time it's Lei they're after -- the girl with the golden eyes whose rumoured beauty has piqued the king's interest. Over weeks of training in the opulent but oppressive palace, Lei and eight other girls learns the skills and charm that befit a king's consort. There, she does the unthinkable -- she falls in love. Her forbidden romance becomes enmeshed with an explosive plot that threatens her world's entire way of life. Lei, still the wide-eyed country girl at heart, must decide how far she's willing to go for justice and revenge.

Natasha Ngan is a writer and yoga teacher. She grew up between Malaysia, where the Chinese side of her family is from, and the UK. This multicultural upbringing continues to influence her writing, and she is passionate about bringing diverse stories to teens. Ngan studied Geography at the University of Cambridge before working as a social media consultant and fashion blogger. She lives in France with her partner, where they recently moved from Paris to be closer to the sea. Her novel Girls of Paper and Fire was a New York Times bestseller. Natasha has a heart condition, and talks about her struggles with her health, and gives updates on her health and her books on twitter.

I’ve heard a lot about this book, but for trigger warning reasons it sadly isn’t on my to be read list. Everything I’ve heard about it says its an amazing book though, and the cover is beautiful.

12. Queens of Geek by Jen Wilde

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Three friends, two love stories, one convention: this fun, feminist love letter to geek culture is all about fandom, friendship, and finding the courage to be yourself. Charlie likes to stand out. She’s a vlogger and actress promoting her first movie at SupaCon, and this is her chance to show fans she’s over her public breakup with co-star Reese Ryan. When internet-famous cool-girl actress Alyssa Huntington arrives as a surprise guest, it seems Charlie’s long-time crush on her isn’t as one-sided as she thought. Taylor likes to blend in. Her brain is wired differently, making her fear change. And there’s one thing in her life she knows will never change: her friendship with her best guy friend Jamie—no matter how much she may secretly want it to. But when she hears about a fan contest for her favourite fandom, she starts to rethink her rules on playing it safe.

Jen Wilde is the YA author of QUEENS OF GEEK, THE BRIGHTSIDERS and GOING OFF SCRIPT. She writes unapologetically queer stories about geeks, rockstars, and fangirls who smash the patriarchy in their own unique ways. Her books have been praised in Teen Vogue, Buzzfeed, Autostraddle, Vulture and Bustle. Originally from Australia, Jen now lives in NYC where she spends her time writing, drinking too much coffee and binging reality TV.

Researching for this collab was the first time this book popped up on my radar as something I might be interested in reading. Jen Wilde, the author, is herself autistic and suffers from anxiety, which gives the narrative “authenticity that is lacking in similar books” according to socialjusticebooks.org.

13. The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

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Seventeen-year-old Molly Peskin-Suso knows all about unrequited love—she’s lived through it twenty-six times. She crushes hard and crushes often, but always in secret. Because no matter how many times her twin sister, Cassie, tells her to woman up, Molly can’t stomach the idea of rejection. So, she’s careful. Fat girls always have to be careful. Then a cute new girl enters Cassie’s orbit, and for the first time ever, Molly’s cynical twin is a lovesick mess. Meanwhile, Molly’s totally not dying of loneliness—except for the part where she is. Luckily, Cassie’s new girlfriend comes with a cute hipster-boy sidekick. Will is funny and flirtatious and just might be perfect crush material. Maybe more than crush material. And if Molly can win him over, she’ll get her first kiss and she’ll get her twin back. There’s only one problem: Molly’s co-worker Reid. He’s an awkward Tolkien superfan with a season pass to the Ren Faire, and there’s absolutely no way Molly could fall for him. Right?

Becky Albertalli is the author of the acclaimed novels Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (film: Love, Simon), The Upside of Unrequited, and Leah on the Offbeat. She is also the co-author of What If It's Us with Adam Silvera. A former clinical psychologist who specialized in working with children and teens, Becky lives with her family in Atlanta.

Becky Albertalli has generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), and has spoken about it in several interviews, which you can find online. She has also written several characters in her books who also suffer with anxiety. Her first book, Simon vs the Homosapien’s Agenda (or Love, Simon), is the only book of hers that I have read so far, and I loved it. It was the first contemporary book that I read and actually enjoyed.

14. Carve the Mark by Veronica Roth

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Cyra is the sister of the brutal tyrant who rules the Shotet people. Cyra’s current gift gives her pain and power—something her brother exploits, using her to torture his enemies. But Cyra is much more than just a blade in her brother’s hand: she is resilient, quick on her feet, and smarter than he knows. Akos is the son of a farmer and an oracle from the frozen nation-planet of Thuvhe. Protected by his unusual currentgift, Akos is generous in spirit, and his loyalty to his family is limitless. Once Akos and his brother are captured by enemy Shotet soldiers, Akos is desperate to get his brother out alive—no matter what the cost. Then Akos is thrust into Cyra's world, and the enmity between their countries and families seems insurmountable. Will they help each other to survive, or will they destroy one another?

Veronica Roth is the #1 New York Times best-selling author of the Divergent series (Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant, and Four: A Divergent Collection), the Carve the Mark duology (Carve the Mark, the Fates Divide), The End and Other Beginnings collection of short fiction, and many short stories and essays. Her first book for adult audiences, Chosen Ones, is out now. She lives in Chicago.

Veronica Roth suffers from anxiety, like a lot of the authors on this list, and talks about it in interviews. A quote from one: "I've had an anxiety disorder my whole life, so I've been to therapy on and off throughout, before books and after books. I went back and tried to talk through some of the things I was feeling and experiencing, and it was helpful."

I’ve never read any of her books, not even the hugely famous Divergent trilogy, though they’ve been on my radar for years. I’d love to get into her books at some point, but it might take me a few years.

15. How to be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe

📷An urgent, funny, shocking, and impassioned memoir by the winner of the Spectrum Art Prize 2018, How To Be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe presents the rarely shown point of view of someone living with autism. Poe’s voice is confident, moving and often funny, as they reveal to us a very personal account of autism, mental illness, gender and sexual identity. As we follow Charlotte’s journey through school and college, we become as awestruck by their extraordinary passion for life as by the enormous privations that they must undergo to live it. From food and fandom to body modification and comic conventions, Charlotte’s experiences through the torments of schooldays and young adulthood leave us with a riot of conflicting emotions: horror, empathy, despair, laugh-out-loud amusement and, most of all, respect. For Charlotte, autism is a fundamental aspect of their identity and art. They address the reader in a voice that is direct, sharply clever and ironic. They witness their own behaviour with a wry humour as they sympathise with those who care for them, yet all the while challenging the neurotypical narratives of autism as something to be ‘fixed’. This is an exuberant, inspiring, life-changing insight into autism from a viewpoint almost entirely missing from public discussion. ‘I wanted to show the side of autism that you don’t find in books and on Facebook. My story is about survival, fear and, finally, hope. There will be parts that make you want to cover your eyes, but I beg you to read on, because if I can change just one person’s perceptions, if I can help one person with autism feel like they’re less alone, then this will all be worth it.’ Charlotte Amelia Poe is a self-taught artist and writer living in Lowestoft, Suffolk. They also work with video and won the inaugural Spectrum Art Prize with the film they submitted, 'How to Be Autistic’. Myriad published Charlotte's memoir, How to Be Autistic, in September 2019.

Another book I didn’t know about until researching for this post, but I really want to read it because I haven’t read many books about autism, and practically none of them were actually written by someone who actually is autistic. Charlotte uses they/them pronouns.

16. Ask me about my Uterus by Abby Norman

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For any woman who has experienced illness, chronic pain, or endometriosis comes an inspiring memoir advocating for recognition of women's health issues In the fall of 2010, Abby Norman's strong dancer's body dropped forty pounds and grey hairs began to sprout from her temples. She was repeatedly hospitalized in excruciating pain, but the doctors insisted it was a urinary tract infection and sent her home with antibiotics. Unable to get out of bed, much less attend class, Norman dropped out of college and embarked on what would become a years-long journey to discover what was wrong with her. It wasn't until she took matters into her own hands--securing a job in a hospital and educating herself over lunchtime reading in the medical library--that she found an accurate diagnosis of endometriosis. In Ask Me About My Uterus, Norman describes what it was like to have her pain dismissed, to be told it was all in her head, only to be taken seriously when she was accompanied by a boyfriend who confirmed that her sexual performance was, indeed, compromised. Putting her own trials into a broader historical, sociocultural, and political context, Norman shows that women's bodies have long been the battleground of a never-ending war for power, control, medical knowledge, and truth. It's time to refute the belief that being a woman is a pre-existing condition.

Abby Norman’s debut book, ASK ME ABOUT MY UTERUS: A Quest to Make Doctors Believe in Women’s Pain, was published by Bold Type Books (Hachette Book Group) in 2018, with advance praise from Gillian Anderson, Lindsey Fitzharris, Jenny Lawson, and Padma Lakshmi.

The book was praised by The New York Times Book Review, The Wall Street Journal, New York Magazine, The Washington Post, The Sunday Times, The Irish Times, Literary Review, The Times Literary Supplement, The New Republic, Book Riot, Toronto Star, ELLE, Health Magazine, Undark Magazine, BUST Magazine, Bitch Magazine, Ms. Magazine, BBC Radio 5, and other international media outlets.

In 2019, the paperback edition was published in the U.S. and the Korean translation in Seoul (Momento Publishing/Duran Kim Agency).

Her work has been featured in Harper’s, Medium, The Independent, Literary Hub, The Rumpus, Mental Floss, Atlas Obscura, and elsewhere. Interviews and profiles have been seen and heard, including NPR/WNYC, BBC, Anchor.fm, The New York Times, Playboy, Forbes, Glamour, Women’s Health, and Bitch Magazine.

Abby Norman suffers from endometriosis, which was a large part of why she wrote her book, and why she advocates so hard for fellow patients at conferences such as Stanford University’s Stanford Medicine X and the Endometriosis Foundation of America’s medical conference and Patient Day. She is

Abby has served on technical expert panels including the National Partnership for Women and Families’ CORE Network (Yale University), the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), the Centres for Medicare and Medicaid, The Society for Women’s Health Research (SWHR), and Health Affairs.

In 2019, Abby contributed to a paper addressing research gaps and unmet needs in endometriosis published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

This book is definitely one I will be adding to my to be read list, as someone who (unfortunately) also has a uterus, it is important to be informed. And Abby sounds like such a badass who wrote a whole book about her chronic illness to help others with the same condition.

17. Stim: Autistic Anthology by Lizzie Huxley-Jones

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Around one in one hundred people in the UK are autistic, yet there remains a fundamental misunderstanding of what autism is. It is rare that autistic people get to share their own experiences, show how creative and talented and passionate they are, how different they are from media stereotypes. This insightful and eye-opening collection of essays, fiction and visual art showcases the immense talents of some of the UK's most exciting writers and artists - who just happen to be on the spectrum. Here they reclaim the power to speak for themselves and redefine what it means to be autistic. Stim invites the reader into the lives, experiences, minds of the eighteen contributors, and asks them to recognise the hurdles of being autistic in a non-autistic world and to uncover the empathy and understanding necessary to continue to champion brilliant yet unheard voices.

Lizzie (Hux) Huxley-Jones is an autistic author and editor based in London. They are the editor of Stim, an anthology of autistic authors and artists, which was published by Unbound in April 2020 to coincide with World Autism Awareness Week. They are also the author of the children’s biography Sir David Attenborough: A Life Story. They can be found editing at independent micropublisher 3 of Cups Press, and they also advise writers as a freelance sensitivity reader and consultant. In their past career lives, they have been a research diver, a children’s bookseller and digital communications specialist.

I wasn’t even aware that there was an anthology out there by an autistic author, about autism, but now that I do I need to read it.

18. Chimera by Jaecyn Bonê

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Creatures unlike you've imagined before! Welcome to a world where myths and legends collide to create a new breed of monster. Savage and soulful, these monstrosities combine to form the mighty Chimera. In this anthology, talented writers weave 10 tales of fantastical beasts. Featuring stories by: Matt Bliss Jaecyn Boné Alexis L. Carroll Chris Durston Dewi Hargreaves Stephen Howard Samuel Logan Vincent Metzo Braden Rohl Michelle Tang

Jaecyn is a queer, non-binary, disabled Asian-American writer and digital artist fascinated by faeries.

Most of their writing involves wlw romance and faery-inspired creatures. Their first novel, Farzana's Spite is a 10-year-old work in progress and the first novel in The Faerth series. Other works include The Killing Song (novel) and Colour Unknown (short), both of which are also part of the Faerth universe.

Jaecyn's art can be described as a neorealistic pop art style with cel shading. They began their digital art journey with a 5-year-old refurbished iPad using their finger as a stylus and immediately fell in love. They do digital download commissions as well as sell prints of their artwork.

Jaecyn is the Co-Editor in Chief of the Limeoncello Magazine, an online Own Voices literary magazine which debuted its first issue on March 21st, 2021.

When not writing, drawing, or chasing after their two children, they can be found either gardening or practicing their ukulele.

None of Jaecyn Boné’s books are published yet as they are still in the stage of querying, but they contributed to the above anthology, along with nine other authors. I had no idea that this anthology existed, and now I’ll be closely following this author to see when their books get published!

19. Forest of Souls by Lori M Lee

Sirscha Ashwyn comes from nothing, but she’s intent on becoming something. After years of training to become the queen’s next royal spy, her plans are derailed when shamans attack 📷and kill her best friend Saengo. And then Sirscha, somehow, restores Saengo to life. Unveiled as the first soul guide in living memory, Sirscha is summoned to the domain of the Spider King. For centuries, he has used his influence over the Dead Wood—an ancient forest possessed by souls—to enforce peace between the kingdoms. Now, with the trees growing wild and untamed, only a soul guide can restrain them. As war looms, Sirscha must master her newly awakened abilities before the trees shatter the brittle peace, or worse, claim Saengo, the friend she would die for.

Lori M. Lee is the author of speculative novels and short stories. Her books include PAHUA AND THE SOUL STEALER (Disney/Rick Riordan Presents), FOREST OF SOULS and the sequel BROKEN WEB (Page Street), and more. She’s also a contributor to the anthologies A THOUSAND BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS and COLOR OUTSIDE THE LINES. She considers herself a unicorn fan, enjoys marathoning TV shows, and loves to write about magic, manipulation, and family.

Lori struggles with anxiety, and the common symptoms like fatigue but she doesn’t let this stop her writing amazing books. I read Forest of Souls earlier this year, and it was seriously one of the best books I’ve ever read. I loved the magic, the characters, the world building. Everything about it, including the plot twist ending that had me losing my mind at 2am, was just so unlike anything I had read in any other fantasy before.

20. A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A Brown

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For Malik, the Solstasia festival is a chance to escape his war-stricken home and start a new life with his sisters in the prosperous desert city of Ziran. But when a vengeful spirit abducts Malik’s younger sister, Nadia, as payment into the city, Malik strikes a fatal deal—kill Karina, Crown Princess of Ziran, for Nadia’s freedom. But Karina has deadly aspirations of her own. Her mother, the Sultana, has been assassinated; her court threatens mutiny; and Solstasia looms like a knife over her neck. Grief-stricken, Karina decides to resurrect her mother through ancient magic . . . requiring the beating heart of a king. And she knows just how to obtain one: by offering her hand in marriage to the victor of the Solstasia competition. When Malik rigs his way into the contest, they are set on a course to destroy each other. But as attraction flares between them and ancient evils stir, will they be able to see their tasks to the death?

Roseanne “Rosie” A. Brown was born in Kumasi, Ghana and immigrated to the wild jungles of central Maryland as a child. Writing was her first love, and she knew from a young age that she wanted to use the power of writing—creative and otherwise—to connect the different cultures she called home. She graduated from the University of Maryland with a Bachelor’s in Journalism and was also a teaching assistant for the school’s Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House program. Her journalistic work has been featured by Voice of America among other outlets.

On the publishing side of things, she has worked as an editorial intern at Entangled Publishing. Rosie was a 2017 Pitch Wars mentee and 2018 Pitch Wars mentor. Rosie currently lives outside Washington D.C., where in her free time she can usually be found wandering the woods, making memes, or thinking about Star Wars.

Roseanne is another author that struggles with anxiety and wrote one of her two main characters with generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), despite it being a fantasy. I don’t even think I can name a fantasy that had a character with anxiety represented so well. This was a book I read around the same time as Forest of Souls, and I loved it. The cover was beautiful, the characters were brilliant, and I just loved the world building, the magic, and the plot. It was just different to the usual fantasy books I read, and I enjoyed the variation so much I’ve had the sequel pre ordered almost a year in advance.

So, this was my 20 books by 20 chronically ill, disabled or neurodiverse authors list. Blurbs and synopsis were compiled between Goodreads and author websites, and bios were found either on Goodreads, author websites or on amazon author pages. All the information about their chronic illnesses, disabilities or neurodivergence was found online, where they had either explicitly said it or written about it, but if I have something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!

If you have any other suggestions or know any other books and authors that should be on this list, please let me know and I’ll do my best to add it to the list as soon as possible.

Thanks for reading 😊

#bookblr #reviews #recs #books

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skeletorific · 5 years

Text

This Got Out of Hand (and we’re out of paint): Marvus Xoloto ♦♠Reader

yall i swear i’m gonna get on writing stuff that actually got requested but this idea wouldn’t release me until I’d finished it so here we fuckin go

This simply could not stand.

Black flirting and romance, once upon a time, was a concept utterly foreign to you. It had taken roughly three conversations with Tegiri and Polypa on the topic (and a lot of time spent around Galekh and Tagora) before it had registered to you as anything more than consistent hate fucking and passive aggressive remarks.

That was before you met Marvus.

The clown was many things: attractive. Creative. Charismatic. Funny. Way more intelligent than he presented himself as. He was also a shit-starter, would probably pail with Zebruh before he would confess to a genuine emotion without fifteen layers of casual slang and innuendo, and seemed to take intense pleasure in riling you the fuck up whenever he got the chance. One way or another he wormed his way into your head, and suddenly you couldn’t stop hearing his voice in your head even when he wasn’t around. Challenging you, teasing you, testing you, doing his utmost to get you a nice, steaming anger before ruffling your hair with a wink and walking away.

It was also possible you were a little bit smitten with him.

Or maybe a lot.

Regardless, in time you’d come to understand that it was a mutual thing. For as much as he didn’t show it, you were beginning to read between the many, many lines with the clown. He enjoyed the hell out of you, sure, but he also seemed to find you something of a puzzle. Beyond the fact that you still hadn’t kicked Zebruh to the curb (and he never failed to send you an eye-rolling emoji whenever he appeared in one of your Chittr photos), every story about your past that came up seemed to render him a little bewildered about what it was you’d put up with in order to attain those sweet and lofty fruits of FRIENDSHIP.

“i mean, lil stab-stab here, lil push off a cliff here, ‘sall gucci sunshine. normal n all that shizz.” He’d said, in one of his rarer moments of honesty. The fact that both of you had slammed a couple liters of faygo in the aftermath of a particularly exhausting show probably had something to do with it. He lounged on the couch, absently combing fingers through his piles of hair. “but keep hangin out wih m-fers what still wish ya harm, or bloo shizzheads what won’t take no for an answer, that’s a whole other thing, uhearme?”

You’d waved dismissively from your position lying on the floor. You were a little drunk yourself at the time. “Its fine. Usually. And when its not its like….phoo, somehow it gets fine anyways!”

“jus sayin” he said, shifting until he was upside down on the couch, face inches from yours. Close enough that you could see the greasepaint starting to flake off. “need sumbody what can keep ya from gettin urself killed, lil buddy.”

“You volunteering?” You’d crooned. Ok, croon is a strong verb, it was more like slurred, but crooning was the intention is what matters.

“u askin me to?” He smirked, pressing a single claw to your forehead. Internally, you’re pretty sure that’s not how volunteering works, but noticing that isn’t at the top of your hierarchy of needs currently.

“Mmmmaybe.” You rolled onto your back. You can feel your heart pounding just a bit right now, but somehow your voice is floating even and light. Like you don’t have a care in the world, and this is just one more joke in the scheme of your weird mobius double irony reacharound of a relationship. “Maybe I wanna go all gorlekh with you, what do ya think of that.”

“‘scuse?”

“Gorlekh. Gorgor and Lekh-…..lekh….” You made a dismissive noise, gesticulating your hands wildly as you moved to sit up. “The black one!”

“….ur talkin spades?”

“Yeah! The kissmissies….kissmich….” Wow faygo was no joke on your system. “The hate one. Like I don’t hate you, except I think I do a bit? But like in that weird alien way where I think it just makes me like you more and its confusing but I don’t wanna stop and you’re so damn cute and….and…”

Your voice trails off.

Because the man is honest to globes grinning. No smirk, no lazy half-smile, no lowered eyelids, nothing to give that careful impression that he’s only happy in a chill way. Just a huge, toothy smile that split his face.

Bro that shit was radiant.

“m-fer, u have no idea what ur in for….”

—–

You really hadn’t but you hadn’t had a moment of regret since then.

It was a constant game of one upmanship between you, an intense competition to see who could get who to visibly express their emotions first. Maybe that was unusual by kismesis standards: it didn’t seem much like Tagora and Galekh’s dynamic. But you were enjoying every second of it, and if Marvus had complaints he sure as hell wasn’t voicing them.

The only downside, all told, was the lack of time.You didn’t have hours to build on the tension. More often than not you had moments between shows. Actual antagonism had to be planned in to make sure the point got across without actually getting either of you hurt. After a full day of work he was usually too burnt out for more than light teasing and, to borrow his phrase, “sloppy makeouts”.

Those sloppy makeouts were becoming in themselves the point of your focus.

—-

After one such particular petting session, you glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, it was late (er….early) and you had a long walk home with your car out of commision. You sighed, pulling yourself off of him with no small amount of protest. “I’ve gotta go.”

“u got some1 else u gotta do this to” he muttered, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. You were starting to realize a denied, overtired Marvus was a grumpy Marvus, which was as endearing as it was needy as hell.

“Maybe~.” You say, enjoying the glint he got in his eyes. You straighten out your clothes for a bit. “Tomorrow?”

“day off tomorrow bruh. clown church” He slipped an arm around you from behind, leaning down by your neck. “which means u can stay here-”

“Mm-mm” You slip free, nudging his face back. “Not tonight. Not here.”

“keep tellin ya juggz don’t spread shizz around” He said, lips pouting out a bit, which forces you to look away.

Denial is part of the game, after all.

“‘Juggz’ aren’t the only people around here. And I’m not looking to get your fanbase up my ass. I’ve got more than enough people looking to cull me”

“Hehe, tryna make me jealous ;o)”

You roll your eyes and head for the exit to his dressing room.The cool night air beckons outside, but you find your path suddenly obstructed by his arm. With a huff, you look up at him. “I’m heading ou-Mmm!”

The head turn had allowed him to get a grip on your chin and pull you into another deep kiss. Not a kiss, actually, if there was a word for it you’d describe it as some kind of facial wrestling match. He kissed around your mouth, your cheeks, your eyelids, in rapid succession, all the while insistently rubbing his nose and cheeks against your face as you spluttered.

“Marvus-I—hey!!”

With a final peck to the tip of your nose, he drew back grinning ear to ear, face paint now a smeary mess. “have a nice nite, b~”

And you suddenly found yourself outside, hearing the door lock behind you.

Oh that little- You snatched your phone out of your pocket and turned on your front facing camera. Sure enough, your face was now suddenly covered in white-grey paint, already caking on your cheeks and making you look like you’d fallen face first into glue.

“Marvus, I’m gonna kill you!” You said, pounding at the door. From the other side you swear you hear him laughing, which is only adding kindling to the fire at this point.

Great. Perfect. You could either face the long walk home or use your sweatshirt to wipe it off and leave a visible stain on the black sleeves. Fuck it, you won’t be able to make it to Tyzias’s to do laundry for a bit, so you’re gonna have to walk of shame your way home. Fanfuckingtastic.

Practically the second you crossed the threshold your phone buzzed.

therealxoloto: send pics before u clean urself up aight ;o)

Oh he wanted a fucking-

You sent him a well backlit photo of your face, largely covered by an Alternian hand gesture Mallek had taught you.

therealxoloto: hell ye that’s that good shizz

Alien_among_you: you think you’re so funny

therealxoloto: clown church baby lmao

therealxoloto: i’m fxxkin hi lar i OUS

therealxoloto: ♠

Alien_among_you: ♠

You go to bed with cheeks red and chapped from being scrubbed, which was DEFINITELY the only reason they were red.

—-

After that, no kiss was safe, not truly. He’d found a button to press, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave it alone while it still worked. Sometimes he’d led you go days, wipes even, without an incident, only to jump you once you were lulled into a false sense of security. Practically everything you owned had been stained with the stuff with the point, and you’d gotten more mouthfuls of it than you’d care to mention.

And naturally, this meant war.

It took you some time to figure out an appropriate revenge. Just stealing his paints felt over the line somehow. While you were still figuring out the ropes of clown religion, the fact that you had yet to see a clown without the stuff probably meant it was important. Marvus had only just started cleaning it off in front of you, and while he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, you’d gotten the impression that it was kind of a moment for him.

So, taking the stuff wasn’t an option. All that was left was to thwart it.

Can’t mess up a face already covered.

You waited till he’d left to run an early rehearsal, then quickly raided the vanity, tracking down brushes and setting powder and a couple of those little white brushes. You opened the tins and carefully positioned yourself in front of the mirror. Alright. Ok.

You hadn’t exactly done this before, but how hard could it be to figure out?

Fifteen minutes later you realized that optimism was a bit misplaced. You weren’t exactly aiming for perfect, but you at least didn’t want it to look like a kid had painted you up. That would give him leverage to flip the teasing back on you, which was not the point of the exerices. You kept have to undo your work. The diamonds edges were too round, or too wide. The eyebrows were uneven. It took you far too long to figure out how to even tape down your natural brows. The makeup wipes were starting to pile up and paint was getting much lower. How the hell did he do this every day, it looked practically effortless-

Footsteps in the hallway.

Panic rose in your throat as you swept the trash into a nearby can and haphazardly tried to make the vanity look like it had when he left. As they grew closer, you realized your eyebrows were still taped down, and ripping those off in a hurry was probably not the best idea. You practically dove into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“¿Yo, I leave my palmhusk in here?”

You feel a sudden rush of relief. Not your clown. You recognize the voice: Payasa, one of the newer acts. You open the door a crack, seeing a tall juggalette with close cropped hair and a complex design resembling a moth across the center of your face. Damn, you weren’t even managing basic geometric patterns, how the hell did she paint that on every morning? “Haven’t seen it, sorry.”

“¿damn, sorry ‘bout the intrusion?” The lanky clown starts to leave, before hesitating. “¿uhh…..you doin alright motherfucker?¿Need me to get the big man?”

“No! No….” you say quickly. “I’m fine.”

“¿alright…?”

A thought occurs to you just before she leaves. Normally it’d be uncomfortable asking, but…you wanted to get this done.“….actually you know what.” You push open the bathroom door. “Could I get some help with something?”

She turns around quickly, gaze eager. Alien or no alien, she’s new here and eager to please. “¿watcha need?”

“I need you to help me put some face paint on.” You say, gesturing pointedly to your eyebrow situation.

You feel a cold spot of dread as the clown’s cheeks go bright purple. Oh globes, is this one of those troll things you’ve just put your foot in. Did you just spit in the face of the mirthful messiahs or something.

Payasa rubs the back of her head, eyes darting towards the door. “¿er….does Marvus…know about this?”

“Its a surprise for him,” You say quickly. Hoping against hope, because otherwise its back to the drawing board or figure out how to do it yourself.

“¿I…?” The clown grimaces, nervously tugging on one of her many piercings. She seems to be at war with something inside herself. Finally, she swallows and looks back down at you. “¿sure….?”

A relieved look crosses your face. “Thank you so much, I promise I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I’m pretty hopeless at this.

“¿heh…no p?” She said, giving you a shy half-smile. “¿did you uh….have a design in mind?”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. I just need you to copy Marvus’ design.”

Another weighty silence. The purple faded, and its hard to tell under the makeup but you think she might have just gone pale, her eyes bulging out of her head.

“….is that….is that not ok?” You say weakly.

“¿I-….it’s uh, fine!?” She managed to stammer out. The gazes towards the door returned, but after another look at your pleading face she seemed to gather her courage and slam it closed, making you jump. “¿its fine.?¿ Can do it quick, right?¿ Don’t have to be a big deal or nothin…?”

“Uh….sure?”

Payasa drags up a chair to the vanity bench and gestures for you to sit down. Despite the oddness of her behavior, you’re didn’t get this far looking gift clowns in the mouth. You sit down.

She makes quick work of it, though she still seems nervous. Her face keeps going purpler and purpler the longer she paints, and her ears flatten to the side of her skull as she worries her lip with her fangs.

“Are you sure this is ok?” You finally ask. “There’s not like, a rule against this or anything, right? I don’t want you to….I don’t know, commit heresy or something.”

“¿Nah, nah, not heresy, motherfucker.?” She says quickly, dabbing the poff in the setting powder before carefully dusting you. “¿Jus….little unusual is all.?¿But ain’t my place to judge.?”

“Why is it unusual?” True, Marvus seemed to prefer to do his own makeup, but you’d seen other juggalos do each others faces all the time, especially on the rare wipe end Marvus could drag you out to clown church. It had always seemed kind of peaceful.

“¿I uh….think I’m gonna let Marvus tell ya about that.?” She mutters, putting on the finishing touches. “¿Ain’t sinful, though, promise.?”

“Well….that’s good, I guess.” You help her put the paints away. “Thanks again. His reaction should be worth it, at least.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “¿Yeah, imagine it will…?” She got to her feet, replacing the chair and giving you a lazy, two-fingered salute. “¿Gotta bounce and get ready for my set.?¿have a nice night, little motherfucker.?”

“You too.” Man, what does it say about your life right now that ‘little mothefucker’ read as affectionate. Before you can contemplate that, Payasa leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Marvus doesn’t come back for another twenty minutes or so. You lounge on the couch, scrolling through your messages and dicking around with a couple of games you’d downloaded for Diemen. You got so far down the rabbithole that by the time Marvus opened the door you’d almost forgotten what was on your face.

Almost.

“m-fin sound issues, swear 2 fxxkin glob…” He was muttering, twirling his staff absently in his fingers. “sorry i’m-”

He finally turns his eyes on you, and you’re treated to a rare sight.

Marvus Xoloto, speechless. Mouth still halfway open on its way to whatever he’d been planning to say. Eyes slowly tracing your face. You could practically see the question marks popping up over his head.

Its your turn to smirk, tucking your phone back into your pocket as you sit up, tossing your hair back a bit. “Lookin for your makeup rag? Bad news bitch, I’m already co-”

Marvus heads back outside, slamming the door.

….Ok. Not the reaction you were expecting.

You waited for a second. Was this a bit?

….

Ok ok not a bit not a bit-

You scrambled to your feet, following him out the door.

Instinctively you move towards the green room, but he’s not there. Just a couple of the others, lounging around and hitting each other with squirts of a substance you deeply hope is whipped cream. One of them catches sight of you and their eyes go wide. “….damN, didnT knoW yoU anD xolotO werE therE.”

“Have you seen-….what do you mean there.”

They chuckle, getting up and clapping you on the shoulder, giving you a big goofy grin. “he’S A luckY maN. prettY surE I saW hiM headiN foR thE costumeS closeT. leT A brotheR knoW iF yoU neeD A buckeT oR somethiN, aY”

Coming down to it you wish Marvus’ friends were a little less helpful sometimes. “I…think we’re good. Thanks” You brush past him on your way to the closet, hearing a couple distant “whoops” as you retreated.

The costumes closet is tucked away in a small corner. He’s not there, and for a moment you nearly considered looping back to his dressing room, before-…

Is that muffled screaming?!

Nervously you tap on the door. “Marvus…”

The sound lapses, and there’s a long pause.

“…..ye?”

“You uh, doin alright in there.”

“heh…def b. gucci.”

“You kinda rushed out.”

“…..”

“I’m coming in.”

“…..cool” he says, sounding resigned.

You open the door. Its stuffed to the brim with an array of truly unspeakable clothes. In the blinding sea of color Marvus is practically camouflaged, but you do eventually spot him. Slumping against the back wall, holding a crumpled shirt in his hand that he seems to have been screaming into. His expression is stony and tired in a way you aren’t used to seeing from him, and his eyes aren’t meeting yours.

One of the hardest things you’ve had to figure out about kismesis is when to break kayfabe. Following every barb or prank with an apology kind of defeats the purpose of a kismesis. They’re supposed to let you dangle a bit. But at the same time there are lines that can’t be crossed. You’re not supposed to genuinely hurt them, or force past boundaries they aren’t comfortable being violated.

The issue, especially in Marvus’ case, is figuring out the difference between the two.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back against the cool metal. “So…..I’m getting the impression that this,” You gesture to your face. “May have been a bit more symbolic than was my intention.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. You can see him struggling against himself, probably considering whether or not he should try to laugh it off. In the end though, he just nods.

“And I may have hurt you somehow?”

“u didnt-”He groaned, tilting his head to lean against the wall and closing his eyes tight. “who even did that 2 ya…”

“I….they’re not gonna get in trouble, right?”

He gave you a Look.

Right. Not his style. “Payasa”

“n she didn’t think to explain y that might give a clown some m-fin pusher problems?”

“She was acting kinda weird about it, but I think she assumed I knew. Or…was maybe a little too scared”

He sighed, breath coming out in a huff. “fxxkin messiahs…” Slowly, he slid down the wall to sit on the ground.

You hesitated a second, before approaching him. Carefully, you slid to sit down next to him, resting your hands on his knees. “…Can you explain it to me? Please?”

His claws traced out patterns in the shirt he was still holding, as his eyes seemed a million miles away. You found your attention drawn to the slow rise and fall in his chest, the tension in his shoulders. He seemed nervous, a weird look on a man who came alive in front of a crowd of millions of rampaging teens.

“juggz paint iz personal shizz. start workin on the lewk on yer naming day and it keeps changin while you’re changin. lotta symbolism and liturgical shizz go into it but the main thing iz its….u.” He turns over his hands, staring down at them. Faint purple lines run across the palm, a crisscross of old scars. “ur paint’s ur identity. sum mothafucker steals that, they’re stealin u. hell, even gettin some1 else to paint for ya is a big fxxkin deal. ur puttin ur whole identity in their hands and askin em to put it on ya. lotta clowns don’t even let their quadrants paint em”

Your palms go clammy. In your long proud history of fuck-ups, this one didn’t quite take the cake, but it had definitely cut out a larger slice than would be deemed socially appropriate. “I….holy shit, Marv, I’m sorry.”

“sorry?”

“I didn’t realize, this was like, taking something from you. I can take it off-”

You cut off your sentence when you realize his shoulders are shaking.

If he’s fucking crying you are gonna lose your entire mind-

And then a laugh tears out of his throat. Low and throaty and sweet and uncontrollable, the kind of laugh you heard from him maybe once in a blue moon. You’re taken aback (and more than a little flustered). You can only watch, cheeks growing progressively redder as he slowly subsides, hunching up a bit as he tries to catch his breath.

“I…what….”

“fxxkin saviors, b, sumtimes i forget, ufeelme?” He turned to look at you, grinning wide. “forget how alien u are to allathis. i ain’t mad”

“You aren’t?”

“nah lmao”

“….then what was all of this about?!” You say, shoving his shoulder. “I thought you said-”

He catches your wrist, pulling you to straddle his lap. “hey, hey, don make a m-fer bust out the shoosh paps.” He says, tone completely amused as he soothingly strokes your arms. “jus shuddup for a sec and lemme get raw, kk?”

You decidedly have more to say. But… looking at the soft expression on his face you’re having a hard time remembering what it is. In the end you nod for him to continue, settling back at bit against his legs.

He takes your hand, gently unfurling it and caressing circles in the palm with his thumb. “ur paint is u. and the people all in ya life, the 1s that count….they’re also u.” His thumb presses down solidly, shooting sparks up your arm. “told ya, the design grows like u do. pretty much expected once shizz gets serious with some1 ur gonna change things up a bit to reflect that. like chahut. the heavy paint round the sight specs a reference to that little indigo shit she goes craftin with. doesn’t always happen right away, but, when it does…” He releases your hand and moves up to cup your face. Eyes lidding a bit as he contemplates the design, traces the diamonds with his eyes. “pretty fxxkin big deal”

“I…..so, when I….” Your face goes red with the sudden implications, which makes him chuckle.

“yeah lol. kick in the bulge. not xxxactly what i was thinkin i’d see”

“So….that’s why you left?”

His lips press together a bit, and he gives a shrug at least twice as nonchalant as it should be. “…yeah. woulda been trippy even if ya were another purple but knowin u had no fxxkin clue what u did. like watchin a lil squeaker paint prophecies in stick figures. had to get out just to make sure i didn’t do smthn weird as hell”

“…..like what?”

He hums, gripping your chin and dragging you back down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Warm breath fans across your face as he smirks, exposing just a bit more of his fangs than was technically necessary. “show ya when we got more time ;o)”

You groaned. “This is illegal”

“fxxkin arrest me then bih” He patted your thigh, flicking his brows up.

You mutter something treasonous under your breath.

“n-y ways, u should clean urself up” He kissed your forehead. “camera crew$$$ gunna b up my a*s soon”

You sigh. “Right…” Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you push yourself to your feet. “Heaven forbid we appear to visibly be a couple”

“rite? gross lmao”

You shake your head and smile as you head for the door. “Right. Gross.”

“hey.”

Before you can turn around he’s wrapped his arms around you from behind, fitting you neatly to him. He leans down to bury his face in your shoulder, and despite the circumstances that lead you here, you know the only motivation is a desire for closeness. “let me do u up next time” He mumbles, voice rumbling against the skin of your neck. “not mine, but….somethin a yours. find out who u are, ya feel?”

…..You cover his hands your own, squeezing them tight and biting your lip to hide a grin. “….bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time, bozo”

“c’mon, we both kno u can’t resist the idea of my touchstumps all up in ur nugbone hehe ;o)”

“Sure that sentence would be very sexy to someone who isn’t an alien.” You turn in his grip to face him probably. “….love you.”

“aw, babe, that’s gay lol”

“I taught you what that means and you weaponize it against me? Treason.”

“i’m 1 naughty m-fer.” He kissed your forehead. “love ya 2”

“And…..hope you aren’t attached to this shirt.”

“…wha-”

Acting fast, you yank up his shirt and scrape it across your face, taking as much greasepaint off as you could before breaking free of his grip and bolting out the door. Loud, clowny curse words chase you as you tear through the halls, a smile threatening to break your face in half as you ran.

The road to vengeance is long sometimes, but it sure is sweet.

#hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim #marvus xoloto #marvus x reader #marvus fic #pale black vacillation #hs marvus #fluff

350 notes · View notes

aura-creed · 5 years

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Bendy and Boris along with their pals Cuphead and Mugman are searching for the long fabled Ink Machine, a machine rumored to be the only known cure for ink illness. Bendy with the illness, finding his days numbered, goes off in search of the missing machine pieces. One piece in particular is caught in a certain jesters cage... -Read here under ‘read more’, or view it on AO3!

Past a curtain of willows, away from the winding road, a set of doors stood tall above the brine of the bog. There were no structures to accompany such a door, no windows or walls to act as a guardian to. Just a dripping, salt-streaked bottom rim and carved decals in varying shades of purple. The centerpiece was the same in both doors -- bars shaped to mark each suite of the cards. Around the edges they seemed to be painted black, but directly behind them the color darkened, almost as if there was something more than just paint there. The decorative wooden slabs were joined by a gray stone glyph in the middle, out of place with the markings on the rest of the door. Squared edges held a carved inner circle with a clown as its centerpiece. The fool's hat was two-pronged with bells on either end, but they did nothing to detract from the hollow eyes or the spiked teeth that eclipsed the span of their grin... Cuphead wasn’t sure if it was from the depiction of the clown itself or the sudden chill in the air that made him shiver as he adjusted his long coat to compensate. He didn't remember it being so cold a moment ago. “Kinda creepy.” His brother Mugman nodded in agreement as he pulled his scarf up to his chin, his breath visible in the frigid air. “Oi! You guys find it?” They turned to see Bendy and his brother Boris trudging through the bog to reach them. Cuphead stifled a laugh as he watched the short demon, waist deep in water, twist his whole body just to get his legs to push through the muck. Bendy’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Cuphead. “There something you wanna say, tea cup?” His tail flicked above the water, a warning if Cuphead ever saw one. He snorted, not even caught off guard by the insult as he looked to Bendy. “C-Coming up short there?” Boris had to quickly grab his brother before he even tried to jump at him and Cups howled with laughter. The wolf sighed. “Ya know Bendy, I can just carry you over this…” They’d been walking for a good hour in the grime and Bendy had been the slowest out of all of them due to circumstances outside of his control. A lot of time had been wasted due to the demon’s own stubbornness and pride in the matter. “I’ve already told you bro, I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, looking to Boris, annoyed that his younger brother kept asking. “I’ve gotten through this just fine so far. S’not like the water’s that deep.” Boris sighed, ears falling back. “Yeah… I figured you were going to say that.” Again. He didn’t know why he bothered. He adjusted his pack, eyes going towards the purple door and his ears perked right back up. “Oh! It looks like you guys did find it!” Bendy turned to the doors as well, giving out a low whistle. “This thing?” His gaze turned to the glyph and he pursed his lips. “Yeesh, that is creepy. Is that supposed to be a clown?” “Yeah, it looks like one.” Mugs spoke up, muffled by his scarf. “I didn’t think any clown was creepier then Beppi..” “Relax Mugs.” Cuphead nudged his brother, hand waving to the door. “Even if there is a clown in there and they’re scary lookin, it won’t be that bad. We’ve fought weirder, we got this.” Mugs nodded, although his gaze still held a hint of doubt.

Boris frowned. “Let’s just hope it isn’t the size of a giant.” Bendy grimaced, water sloshing as he made his way towards the door. “The last thing we need is a giant clown added next to the giant mermaid.” He didn’t even want to be reminded of that ordeal, or what followed it. Nightmare night could stay a nightmare as far as he was concerned. Head tilting as he looked up at the glyph, he shuffled, arm stretching as he reached and reached. He was on his tip toes when he noticed Cup and Mugs -- and even Boris, the traitor! -- laughing. He growled in frustration, turning back to the three snickering questers with a glare. “Knock it off, will ya!” Boris was trying to put the map away, giggles subsiding as he struggled to keep his backpack out of the water. “Sure you don’t need any help?” Bendy slapped a hand to his chest, looking insulted. “No, I don’t need any help.” He huffed, turning back to the door as he jumped to try and tap the glyph. It didn’t work. Cuphead snickered, shaking his head as he walked over to the little devil. “Stop being so stubborn.” Narrowed eyes would have met the Cups if they hadn’t been so intent on staring at the glyph in front of him. “I got -- tHiS!?” Bendy squacked, flailing as Cuphead picked him up from around the waist, holding him up to face the door. “Oh no,” Boris started to move forward, reaching out. “Cuphead I wouldn’t--” “See? Now you can reach--” The smirk gracing the Cup’s features was wiped off in a resounding oof! Bendy, true to form, had squirmed, kicking right into the Cups’ chest in retaliation. The demon hit the glyph from the punch-back, but he’d succeeded in his intentions: getting the blasted dishware to let go of him. He wasn’t entirely expecting the cup to fall back-first into the water, but it was a bonus. The splash hit Boris, however, and Mugs managed to jump out of the way of most of it. Boris gave an exasperated whine, ears dripping. “Beeennnddyy!” “What?!” He threw his arms up. Behind him, the circle in the stone twisted and turned, gouging into the rock. “We’ve been over this! Nobody picks me up, ever, no way!” “Cussing stars…” Cuphead got up, Mugs helping him as he came over, giving the other a hand as he coughed. “You don’t do that when the cat picks you up.” “T-That’s different!” Bendy’s tail flicked, his face turned red. “And he doesn’t just carry me without warning either, so as far as I’m concerned, you deserved that! Don’t--” The door clicked as the symbol stopped turning. Boris’s eyes turned to the door, his one ear twitching towards the sound. “Pick--” the glyph started to shake as it slid over to the side, the pair of doors creaking as they pulled apart. “Me--” They fell inwards with a clack behind Bendy and he jumped, “--Up!?” he squeaked, turning around to take in purple tile and darkness that fell around the corridor like a shroud. He blinked. The doors weren’t connected to anything… how did..? They all flinched back when flames erupted on the walls, blue fire lapping at the ceiling as it seemed to tempt them further inside. Magic. Bendy slapped his forehead and then dragged his hand down his face. It always had to be magic. He turned towards the others, previous argument forgotten. “Well, let’s go then.” He climbed up the edge of the walkway with little difficulty, wringing his tail out as the others followed. Cuphead messed with his hair, realizing some of the salty water had managed to get into his head. He glared at the little devil who only gave a cheeky grin in return.

It was only a couple steps in when the doors slammed shut with a resounding boom. The outside light faded as said doors vanished. All that was left was the violet tile of the floors, the walls, and the blue torches that lit their way forward. Boris’s ears were tilted back onto his head. Bendy patted his shoulder. “Eh, don’t sweat it too much. Bound to be another exit somewhere.” He hoped. They walked in silence for a time, the torches erupting into blue flame as they approached or going out with a puff of smoke as they continued forward.

It didn’t take them long to find what looked to be prison cells. The ends of the bars were made of hearts, and above the bars was a consistent pattern of spades, diamonds, hearts, and clovers. The place had cracks spidering up and down the wall and the paint on some decals seemed to be fading away revealing the stone underneath. With Boris’s near-constant sneezing, it was evident that no one had been there for sometime. But that wasn’t the strangest part of it. As soon as the rear of their little group had pushed forward a wall behind them slammed down, blocking them in once again. All the torches lit up simultaneously as the strains of a discordant song filtered through the halls.

Mugman’s eyebrows rose. “Is this a circus?”

“Does it look like a cussing circus?” Cuphead asked incredulously. Bendy walked up to the closest cell, his brother walking by him to look around. “Man, even my cell back in Toon Town was nicer than these…” He peered through the bars at a stone slab that made up a bench, eyes flickering to the shackles on the wall. They looked rusted and heavily worn. He shook his head, mumbling. “Feels like we’re walking into a cussing dungeon more than a prison..” They got to a junction when Boris stopped behind them. Bendy turned. “Boris?” The wolf had his hands up to his nose, grimacing. “Something smells rotten,” he muttered through his fingers. He then pointed down the corridor to the left. “Down there. It’s really, really bad.” Bendy turned his head down the way, sniffing the air. Yeah, he had nothing, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Cuphead’s mouth twist. “You smell it?” “Kind of? It’s really faint.” Mugman turned to the kid. “Golly! You can smell that? How strong is it?” “Like I’m in a room with Pete.” Bendy snorted at the remark. “I have no idea what it is.” Cuphead shook his head, frowning. “Probably better if you don’t find out.” He tugged on Mugman’s arm to drag him along. “We’ll go down this way. You guys take the other route.”

“Is that really safe?” Boris’s ears flattened against his head. “Eeh don’t worry about them. They can handle themselves.” Bendy winked as Boris groaned. He looked back towards the brothers, calling out, “Don’t get lost!”

He didn’t need to see Cuphead to hear the disgruntled tone in his voice. “You first, shorty!” Bendy scowled. Boris chuckled beside him before throwing his thumb back towards the hall. “Come on Bendy, let’s go this way.” “Yeah yeah…”

___

“Are you sure they’re going to be ok?” “They’ll be fine, you taught Boris how to fight, remember?” Cuphead stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well… yeah, but-” “Besides, we’ve been teachin’ them well enough and Bendy’s learning how to use that weird bigger form of his. Sort of.” He still wasn’t sure if Bendy could enact it willfully without Hat’s help. He shrugged. “If Boris can’t handle the fighting yet, he can.” Mugman sighed. “Why’d we take the path with the weird smell, then?” “Cause.” Cuphead spoke, pulling out a cigar. “Smells like a corpse.” Mugman sputtered. “Smells like a -- what!” “We’ve seen corpses before. Made too many to count.” He scowled. “Bendy’s seen one. But… I don’t think Boris has seen something like that.” And that’s the last thing he wanted the kid to ever see. Boris shouldn’t have to deal with any of this, as young as he was, and yet... “Golly…” Mugman sniffed the air. “Eugh… it does smell gross. Hopefully it’s not that.” Cuphead hummed, lighting the cigar with his finger. He took a puff, blowing a ring out. His shoulders relaxed. “Eeeh even if it is, we should be closer to whatever killed it than they are.” Hopefully. He was betting on it, anyway. “Wait… You purposely took the toughest route?” Mugman raised a brow. “You?” “W-What?” Cuphead looked towards him, scowling. “Our whole life’s been nothing but a cussin’ roller coaster, how is this anything new?” Mugman narrowed his eyes and smirked. Cuphead could feel the stare creep up his neck and looked away. “And you said I was going soft. I thought you wanted to be more distant than that, hmm?” Cuss. “S-Shaddup.” Was he that easy to read? He was losing his touch. “We’ll think of something, right?” Mugs smiled. Hope bled from that smile, a smile Cuphead knew was in spite of their separate stances and his shoulders drooped. “Cup?” His brother was willing to turn his back on him and everything they’d worked on for those brothers. It made his head hurt thinking about it. “Yeah..” His voice was soft and he let the silence linger longer as he took another puff. They’d figure it out. They’d have too. “Hey, have you… noticed anything off about Bendy?” “Off?” Mugs’s brows furrowed. “Off how? You don’t think--” “No no, not that. He just… I don’t know. With the ‘demon puberty’ thing and whatever the cuss Hat put in that contract, with what the Boss wants us to do if stardust goes sour -- which it won’t.” He looked pointedly at Mugs. He’d make sure it wouldn’t go that way. “But with Bendy it’s not the exhaustion he just seems…” Cups scrunched his nose up. “Ugh, yeah ok that is rotting flesh.” “Wow, nice subject change--” Cuphead shoved his brother. “Shaddup.” Mugs laughed.

_____

Bendy huffed, tail swishing behind him as they searched around the prison. The halls continued to criss-cross, leading to more and more cells and Bendy was starting to wonder if they could get lost before the pattern shifted and they entered a big room. At the end was a decorated entrance leading to what seemed to be nothing and off to the side were portable, mini cages decked in red and gold -- the kind you’d see animals in before arriving to a circus. They were filled with bones. Bendy sighed in relief that it was just bones but Boris whimpered. The demon frowned, pulling on his brother’s wrist as he walked him through the room. “Come on, don’t look at em.” They’d seen bones before. He would have thought Boris would’ve been used to... Well... Ok, maybe he was glad his brother hadn’t gotten used to hopefully ancient bones yet. They made it to the end, peering down the staircase. Bendy squinted -- he couldn’t make out the bottom -- but then the torches lit up, the ones in the prison going dark, and he could distinctly hear a squawk from one of the brothers far behind him. Boris jumped, turning back but Bendy kept looking down the stairs, his eyes narrowing. How far did they go down..? “B-Bendy, maybe we should check on them..” Boris fiddled with his bandana. “Nah they’ll be fine, remember? They got flashlights for fingers.” Bendy waved away Boris’s worry, starting down the stairs. “Come on -- that piece might be down here.” Boris’s shoulders sagged but he pulled out his pipe and followed. The glow from the torches seemed to light up the walls more than the stairs. Their footsteps echoed, overlapping on the previous until the sound was all around them. They went down and down the winding staircases. The torches lit up one final time when they reached the bottom and Bendy froze. “Bars..?” Boris walked forward, staring up at the bars that blocked their path. He pulled at them, humming. “I don’t see a…” The bars formed a gate and creaked open. “...door.” Boris slowly finished.

Motes of dust floated by like eye-catching sparks. Purple tile reached into the darkness and vanished. Bendy could smell the fear his brother was giving off beside him. It made him pause. Boris whimpered. “I’ll go in first, Boris.” Bendy turned, resting a hand on his brothers shoulder. He gave a smile he hoped was reassuring. Boris furiously shook his head. “W-We should go get Cups and Mugs.” Bendy sighed, shoulders drooping as he moved his hand from his brother’s shoulder. He went to step inside but Boris grabbed his arm, ears flushed down on his head. “Bendy…” “I’ll be fine, Boris.” They couldn’t just avoid this -- the map was insisting the piece was in here somewhere, and where else would it be if not towards the obvious danger? But Boris was giving him those eyes, determined yet afraid, and his resolve melted. “Ok, let’s grab those guys first.” Boris gave a relieved sigh. But then as they moved to go towards the stairs, they found themselves face-to-face with the bars they’d turned away from. The gate closed with a resounding clack.

“What!” Bendy whipped around as the lights lit up around them. Boris raised his pipe. There was a pillar in the center, raising to a canopy above the whole area. Bendy narrowed his eyes at the poles littered around the circular room. Some broken, some reaching to the top. He couldn’t even tell if the room had walls, or a ceiling beyond the gaps in the canopy. The song that filtered throughout the place seemed to be louder in here. Nothing showed up, and yet the air was distinctively colder. He could have sworn he caught a speck of gold out of the corner of his eye but whenever he turned it was gone. The shadows felt more alive, and darker than they usually were. They weren’t even moving. They just felt more… there. And he wasn’t even using his talent. He knew his brother must have felt it too -- the pressure from them.

“Boris,” Bendy whispered. Boris was shaking like he had been on nightmare night. His ear twitched. “Run to the gate when I say go.” “What?” Boris frowned, glancing down at his brother. “I’m not leaving you here, I-I can’t just--” “Get out, grab the two morons and bring them back here. Tell them there’s another demon down here.” Boris’s eyes widened. “T-There’s a demon? You can’t be--”

“LO AND BEHOLD…” A voice echoed throughout the room. Boris jumped. Bendy shivered as the shadows swirled viciously around them. His eyes flickered to Boris as a spike of fear wedged itself into his heart. He needed to get his brother out of here. With a jingle, a form hopped down, eye level with Bendy from across the room. A jester's hat and attire greeted them, a cape sifting across tile as his feet touched ground. "TWO VISITORS OUTSIDE? OHO..." A spiked toothy grin spread from ear to ear. His skin was as gray as death. “Boris. Go. Now.” The urgency in Bendy's voice was punctuated in a low hiss. His gaze never left that of the jester's.

“N-No. I’m not leaving you alone with him.” Now wasn’t the time to start acting brave! Bendy moved to stand in front of Boris. This guy looked exactly like the symbol on the door. Did he have the piece like Cala did before? Or was he just some sort of guardian like the snake had been?

His tail flicked. There was no mistaking it. The darkness, the cold… It was like Hat’s, but worse. This demon was the reason there wasn’t a hint of warmth in the room. Bendy was half expecting his breath to visibly puff out into the air but it didn’t. The air was growing sweet with the smell of fear and he grimaced, eyes briefly flickering to his brother. The poor wolf was trembling. Bendy’s hands clenched into fists as he stared straight ahead. “Boris the Wolf you get to that gate right now, you hear me?”

The jester tilted his head, watching them. “BOO HOO, HOW CAN YOU LEAVE WITH THE CURTAIN ALREADY DRAWN?” The demon bowed. Shadows started to dance along the walls. “I’M THE JEVIL.” Bells jingled as he popped back up. “HAVE YOU COME TO BE FREE, FREE?” “We’ve come to leave, leave thank you very much!” Bendy shouted back at him. He could hear Boris finally moving behind him and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It was about time the wolf finally listened to reason.

The Jevil’s grin only seemed to widen. “YOU’RE LOOKING FOR THE PIECE.” Bendy froze. “FOR INK ILLNESS TO CEASE. CHAOS HAS TOLD ME MUCH OF YOU, SURFACE DWELLERS.” “Well great, you know why we’re here then!” Bendy threw his arms up into the air. “You know where it is? We’ll take it and be on our merry cussing way!” “I JUST WANT TO SHOW A PLAY, PLAY!” The jester hopped from foot to foot as he spun around. “BUT THE BORING ONES FOUND SUCH FUN TO BE A TROUBLE. AS PUNISHMENT, THEY CRAVED TO IMPRISON MY BODY. BUT I'M FAST, FAST, CLEVER, CLEVER. THEY LOST THE TRAIL, AND LOCKED UP THEIR ENTIRE TALE, BUILDING A PRISON AROUND THE WHOLE WORLD. NOW I'M THE ONLY FREE ONE.” “Get to the point!” Bendy growled. Jevil grinned. “SHALL YOU ACT IN THIS PLAY WITH ME, ME...? I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO BE FREE!”

“Cuss no!” The Jevil’s grin widened past the corners of his eyes. Bendy glowered but then noticed the smell of fear vanish completely. His eyes widened. It hadn’t even faded, it’d just disappeared as if it were never there. He spun around. The gate was gone -- the bars had been replaced by the nothingness that seemed to surround the span of the place, and his brother was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t even heard him get the gate open -- he knew his brother hadn’t made it out by himself -- and now the whole previous room was gone! What the cuss! “YOU CAME TOO FAR! YOUR CHOICE HAS RUN OUT!”

Bendy ran to where the gate had been, hands reaching towards darkness but he met no resistance. “No way…” Magic, it was always magic. He’d barely even started his lessons with the cussing schtick and here it was, practically laughing in his face, and now his brother was missing because of it. “BORIS!” Where the cuss did his brother go? Where the starfallen cuss did his brother go?

“BOO HOO!” The Jevil mock cried, hands going to his eyes as he frowned. However, the corners of his mouth were turned up, and his frame shook, as if trying to hold in laughter. “BOO HOO HOO, UHE HE HE.”

Bendy growled, his eyes flashing red. “What’d you do?!” What did this schmuck do with his brother? Jevil grinned as the floor shook and started to spin. “YOU WHO WISH TO TURN BACK, HOW CAN YOU?” Bendy stumbled but caught himself. He looked up to see the whole room was spinning like some twisted carousel. The Jevil was now standing in midair, a wicked looking blade resting in his hands. Were those teeth on the edge..? Bendy didn’t have time to think about it as the demon laughed and flung it at him. He ducked. It missed him by a hair and stuck itself into the darkness before merging with the shadows. He turned his head, eyes meeting a barrage of the blades. Even the Jevil’s arm had turned into one, and he had it raised up high. “WHEN YOU’VE ALREADY STARTED READING, YOU WANT TO SEE THE END. YOU WANT TO KNOW, KNOW!” “What the cuss is wrong with you?!” Bendy snarled, jumping to dodge some of the incoming blades as he grabbed at the shadows with his talent. They writhed excitedly as they were allowed to take form and he smacked back the last blade. It twirled in the air, end over end before falling, smacking edge first into the ground. “What the starfallen cuss did you do to my brother? Huh??” If this demon hurt Boris in anyway so help him... “CHAOS, CHAOS!” Bendy blinked, squinting. The demon seemed to jump back and forth, almost in double image as spades and diamonds came flying out from the darkness. He felt a tugging at his chest but he tried to ignore it as the shadows wrapped around him, propelling him away from the projectiles. Normally, he’d be put off by the way they were wriggling, thirsty to rip into the demon but with his brother gone, possibly hurt, somewhere he couldn’t get to him? As far as Bendy was concerned, the shadows’ attitude was exactly what he needed right now to get out of there -- to find him. “That’s not an answer!” Thoughts started rushing through his head. What if Boris was hurt? What if the demon had sent the wolf into a death pit somewhere? Poles sprung up from above and below him. Horses made of energy buckled and shoved into him -- through him -- and he huffed, feeling something cut him in his core and he gripped his chest. “Ugh!.. You..!” “YOU SPIN A WEB OF DECEPTION IN YOUR LITTLE BUBBLE OF LIES, LIES, LIES!” Jevil vanished, appearing behind Bendy as he shoved him towards the middle. All around he started appearing, seemingly spitting out spades and diamonds, his tongue extending to seemingly impossible lengths as laughter echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Bendy’s head was starting to spin, but it wasn’t just from the confusion. When had the music changed? He growled. “Sunblazing scum!” Bendy’s voice echoed, deep and guttural. Some of the diamonds caught him on the side, hurting him without showing physical injury and he winced as his anger boiled. He could almost feel it on his skin. How dare he take Boris away! How dare he not tell him where he is! How dare he. The shadows curled excitedly and the darkness swirled around him, spurring him onward. He let the shadows act out when they could, smacking this way and that when the Jevil would reappear. Bendy could feel them coiling around his feet, wanting to reach through him, to cause more carnage. It reminded him again of what they were like back at the warehouse all those months ago -- how bloodthirsty they had been. He breathed in. He knew what they wanted to do. He let them. It was like taking a big stretch, his body felt like it was uncurling even as he felt his gloves ripping and his horns growing. His eyes opened and suddenly everything stood out like a sore thumb. Crystal clear, every sound, every hint of laughter, the horses and now ducks on the carousel sprung forward. Some raised up and others charging right at him and he managed to thread the needle, jumping between them as the shadows writhed. The Jevil came out clapping and Bendy turned.

He couldn’t feel the cold in the room anymore. “BRAVO, BRAVO!” Jevil ducked as Bendy threw a broken up pole right past his head like a javelin. His grin only widened. “YOU’VE FOOLED THOSE IN THE CAGE AND EVEN THE GUIDE! WHAT FUN WHAT FUN! HOW FAR DOES THE RABBIT HOLE GO? DO TELL!” Bendy was able to grab him, pulling the toon up by the scruff of his collar. A hand raised, claws steadily growing sharper. His eyes flashed, whites now black as he bared his teeth. “Where. Is. My. Brother.” He didn’t recognize his own voice anymore, but that knowledge was only a drop of a thought as it got swept away by the torrent of his swirling mind. Jevil just grinned, big and toothy. His eyes glowed a golden color. Spots of a similar color started to rise around them as the shadows danced along the walls. “HOW FAR HAVE YOU FOOLED YOURSELF?” Jevil gripped his arm. Despite not having any leverage he was able to spin them, spin and spin until Bendy was in a room rimmed with black sludge and yellowed wood. It was a disorienting feeling and Bendy lost his balance, grunting as he hit the splintered wood that had replaced the tile. “WHO KEEPS SPINNING THE WORLD AROUND?” For a brief moment Bendy could feel his head clear. His ears rang. He stood groggily. Inky matter dripped to the ground, but he didn’t feel any pain. Each droplet started writhing as it hit the boards, seeping into cracks in the floorboards. The smell of ink filled his nose, the black liquid reminding him of the corrupting rivers from Holly’s head. It entrenched them to a platform he was surprised was still standing at all, with how old everything looked. The ceiling above him was falling inward with obvious holes in it, and yet no sunlight showed through.

“I CAN DO ANYTHING!” The Jevil re-appeared along with the music and Bendy stumbled, his eyelids feeling heavy. He put a hand to his head. He hadn’t the sense to speak before Jevil was once again shouting. “MY HEARTS GO OUT TO ALL YOU SINNERS!” Boxes with hearts on them started falling from the ceiling, exploding into deadlier hearts that surged at Bendy almost like bullets. He startled but the darkness powering him was quicker. It moved his body before the hearts even shot out of the boxes, causing him to jump around. He was even able to get in a swing at the Jevil himself, whose head only came up on a spring and bounced around. Jevil laughed and laughed. “TALENTED, BUT NOT SEEKING TALENT! HOW WILL YOU PUT ON YOUR OWN SHOW?” “What the cuss are you going on about??” Bendy swung at him again, his arm elongating to get a good swipe at him. “How else am I supposed to fight you?” Why was he even entertaining this zany demon’s line of thought? Could demons even be zany? “WITH YOUR TALENT, OF COURSE!” The jester’s head sprang back and forth before righting itself. He waved his arms, morphing them into blades as he started to spin. Bendy jumped over them each in turn, and tried to go for him but there were too many diamonds coming at him for him to get a hit in. “OR PERHAPS WITH YOUR WOLF PET? MINION GAMES ARE FUN, TOO!” Bendy snarled. “Sunblaze that!” This schmuck still wasn’t saying anything about what he did to his brother. His claws itched to tear into him. The shadows were writhing as they aimed for the clowns throat. They tore off the floor, smacking into Jevil and again his head fell away like a spring. A single eye glowed a dark purple color. “UEE HEE HEE! HAVING FUN? JOIN THE CLUB!” Bendy felt heat flaring in his core as he stared forward at the clown that had been the cause of all his troubles today. He was boiling, lips pulling from teeth as he snarled. The Jevil only giggled, twirling as he morphed into a knife. “EVEN DEVIL’S KNIFE IS SMILING!” “I’ll wipe that smile off your sunblazing face!” Low and guttural, Bendy didn’t wait for him to move and pounced. The ink around them bubbled as it poured down from the walls.

____ “Berries!” Mugs was bent over laughing. His brother had squealed just from the lights having gone out. It was priceless and he’d only seen half of the reaction. “W-What was that noise for?” “Stick a lid on it!” Cuphead was scowling beside him, a snap of his hand and his finger lit up the now darkened halls around them. “Wasn’t expecting it, was all.” “You sounded like a b-bird!” Mugs howled. He hadn’t heard his brother sound that startled since they were kids living in the woods. It was like they were still young and innocent and Cuphead got scared by a squirrel again. Cup’s elbowed him. “Would you quit it? The morons might have found something.” That sobered Mugs up real quick. He snapped his own finger, the hall lighting up around them twice as bright. “Something bad?” “Maybe. Might have been the part too. Maybe it was powering the lights on in the place?” Cup hummed, squishing the end of his cigar against the wall before tossing it. “What about the smell?” Mugs raised a brow, watching as his brother turned back. “You said it smells like a corpse, so… Something must have made it, right? Assuming it is a corpse.” He really hoped it wasn’t. “You sure you just wanna leave it?” It might come back to bite them later if they didn’t deal with it now. Cup grimaced. He sighed. “...You think--” “I believe in them.” Mugman said, assured. Boris had really been improving with the pipe and Bendy was also getting to be a good fighter. They both learned extraordinarily quick -- at least by Mug’s standards. He had to admit he was a bit jealous at them learning stuff that took him and his brother weeks in comparison. Cuphead looked at him, staring for a bit and Mugman was about to ask about it when he finally spoke up. “Fine. We’ll keep going, for now. Just… no more humming.” “What?” Mugman pouted. “The tune’s catchy. We should go to a carnival sometime, yeah?” “No, it’s not.” Cuphead frowned. “And no. Really, Mugs, sometimes you act like a…” he paused. Mugman stopped walking. “Act like a what?” He frowned. He was calling him a kid again, wasn’t he? He wasn’t that childish! “Shh!” Cuphead shushed him and he shut up. He listened but couldn’t quite hear anything… That is, until he noticed what was happening with the music. It was getting lower, the tones warping and distorting before cutting out completely into static.

“The.. ah.. record died?” Mugman gave a nervous grin. “...Maybe,” Cuphead furrowed his brows. “Think it’s nothing?” “Probably not.” It was then a roar echoed throughout the halls as if it consumed the whole area. It shook the floors, the walls, and they both had to anchor themselves to a wall or risk falling over. The scream felt like it was rattling their ceramic before it stopped and the dust settled. The static had cut out completely at this point. He and his brother looked at each other and paled.

Cuphead turned around. “Don’t got a choice anymore.” He started running back. “We don’t know what’s happened now.” Mugs followed, speeding up to catch up to his brother. “What on earth do you think that was?” Something that was that loud… It sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it... “Don’t know, we’ll figure it out when we get there.” Cuphead sighed, mumbling, “Better be cussing ok. Making us turn back and risk getting hounded later by the real monster for cussing nothing, I swear…” Mugs raised a brow, smirking. He was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part. His brother was starting to get a lot more open about how much he liked the crew. Not just Bendy and Boris either, but everyone. Apologizing, worrying about making people upset… It was a turn for the better. His brother kept returning more and more to his old self. Minus the rage induced blackouts, at any rate. Maybe... The roar sounded again, more distant still. He’d think about it later. _____ Bendy swiped at the demon, arm stretching to reach and the Jevil moved back in a swift motion and giggled. “WHAT A SHARK!”

Hours. It’d felt like hours. He growled. Energy seemed to course through his veins despite the haze in his mind, but he could no longer tell if it was the shadows or the adrenaline that spurred him forward. His chest ached even through his shadows so he knew it wasn’t from his illness. It felt ominous but he couldn’t focus on the feeling for long. Hearts, spades, and diamonds flew out from all directions and he had to dodge them, moving when he could and dodging still when he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure how -- he should have gotten hit a number of times but he hadn’t. He felt funny. He shook his head and snarled, trying to clear his thoughts. “Get down here, you sunblazing--” The Jevil had started dancing around almost in mirror image. He’d been doing that for the last couple of rounds now, and Bendy couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the eyes or not. “WOLF PET HAD A NAME, RIGHT?” Bendy paused, his eyes honing in on Jevil. “WAS IT FOOD? MEATLOAF?” “He’s not food.” Bendy took a step forward. “HEE HEE! WHAT A GLORIOUS DARKENING!” The Jevil danced around in mid air. “YOU WERE FUN LIKE THIS TOO, AT THE START. BECAUSE OF THE PUP?” Bendy didn’t do anything but the Jevil only giggled louder. “MAYBE I SHOULD BRING THE PUP BACK TO PLAY, TOO! THE MORE THE MERRIER!” “You touch him and you’re dead.” He took another step forward. Everything was tinted red.

The Jevil only grinned. Hollow eyes blending with the darkened room and suddenly he was gone. “MAYBE HE’D MAKE A GOOD SNACK.” The voice sounded just behind Bendy. Something snapped and he whirled around, claws molded and sharpened in an instant as they pierced through flesh. A squelch and a breath. He could feel his fingers sticking through ribs and tapping spine. The glee from the shadows excited him as he dropped the form and flicked the blood off the tips of his claws. The silence was welcoming as he gave a passing glance to the clown laying still on the floor. “Good riddance.” He took a step away, his eyes scanning around briefly as he tried to find an exit when laughter started to echo around the room. Bendy growled. “Oh, come on!” “WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT IS THERE, BUT WHAT YOU’VE DONE? WELL, FAIR IS FAIR!” “Again with this?!” Bendy growled, scanning the shadows. “Enough with the riddles!” “OVER HERE!” Bendy jumped, turning around but all that was left was the body, limp on the ground. The smile on the Jevil twitched before the head turned, eyes glowing the same purple from before. Then he melted. Darkness fell away, revealing a trembling form with fluffy ears and a snout. It whimpered. Bendy’s voice came out as a croak, when he saw who it was. “Boris..?” The same whimper met his ears and he ran over, dropping to his knees. Claws tapped the ground to either side of him and he could see himself shaking as he wrapped his arms underneath the wolf and pulled him into his lap.

A numbing cold swept over him. What had he done?

“Boris…? Boris, i-it’s going to be ok, I’ll get-- I’ll get help.” Boris coughed up blood. It dribbled down his chin, staining fur. “I’ll -- I’ll get Black Hat.” He grit his teeth. “We’re supposed to be connected, somehow. I’ll -- I’ll call him, he can get us back quickly, and, and then--” Eyes looked up at him, tearing and clouded. Boris shook underneath of him before giving a broken breath and a shudder. Then the wolf went limp. Bendy froze, staring.

“YOU CAN DO ANYTHING TOO, EVEN THINGS YOU DON’T WANT TO DO.”

Dulling eyes stared up at the ceiling, blood was turning his shirt completely red. Ribs were projected upward and torn. A heart laid shredded in the chest cavity -- a cause for the blood pooling everywhere, draining from the face, leaving him pale -- Boris. He… Bendy wasn’t stupid. He did this. He lost control. He did exactly what he was always afraid was going to happen, that he had tried to convince himself he’d never do but he did. The darkness he felt, the fledgling moments, the shadows… He killed his brother. A shaky hand reached to touch his muzzle. He killed his brother, he murdered his brother, he was a murderer, Boris was dead, Boris was dead and he was never coming back. “ARE YOU FREE NOW, INK DEMON?” Was it hot in there? It was getting harder to see. His brother’s face was blurring out but he still managed to run his fingers over his cheeks. He tried to breathe in but he couldn’t seem to get enough air, his chest was heaving, his eyes and lungs were burning he couldn’t-- “B-Boris?” His voice was soft, crackling and his throat hurt. It hurt to talk. His limbs felt heavy. He mouthed the next words but he couldn’t even hear himself speak. Everything was getting blurry. “H-Hey… wake up,” He couldn’t think anymore. “W-Who’s my wittle wolfy?” He paused, waiting, seeing if anything would happen, if he’d start breathing again, anything. This couldn’t be happening. Then the whispers started. He didn’t know where they came from. You did this. Monster. You stole a life, you did this. I believed in you. You betrayed them all. Dreams never come true. You’ll never be able to control it. Murderer. You’re alive, you’ll kill them all, then you’ll die. An image of his brother floated to the forefront of his mind, completely blanking him out to the one laying in his arms. Boris smiled. “Bendy!” A wail, shaking the floorboards and shuddering across waves of inky blackness, ripped through the room and back through the walls as it forced everything to shudder with the force of it all. Scratchy and guttural and full of dismay. The black sludge that echoed particles of gold slithered towards him, reaching for him as he screamed and screamed. Short breaths and broken calls turned to hisses and howls. The inky blackness covered him, raising him up, building him up, as the shadows fell into him. Heat and power. What was he doing…? He was protecting something, wasn’t he...? Ah, that’s right. It was gone now. He felt his throat as hot as embers, bubbling up like spitfire. Bloodlust and a new kind of internal fire fueled him. He wanted to destroy everything.

_____

They were in front of the cell gate when the lights reignited. They whooshed, blue fire lapping at the ceiling before returning to a normal height. Cuphead didn’t even flinch as he lowered his finger. He tsked. “Morons made it down here and didn’t even come get us… What are we, chopped liver?” He gestured to the open gate, waving his hands as he looked to Mugman. “Look at this! Does this not scream ‘don’t walk in here’ or what?” He slapped a hand to his forehead. “God, it’s like we’re in some cussing horror show or something!” “W-Well… Maybe it wasn’t open when they got down here?” Mugman frowned. “There’s so much dust down here you can see their footprints. You didn’t notice that they never walked past it?” “That’s beside the point.” Cuphead huffed. He had to explain this to his own brother? Really? “You can clearly see footsteps on the other side.” “And that doesn’t concern you even a little bit?”

“I didn’t say it didn’t.” “You haven’t said it has yet, either.” Cuphead scowled. He scuffed his feet against the floor. Dust billowed. “Look, we clearly have two options. Walking in there ourselves, or trying to go back and see if they went anywhere else.” He raised a brow. “Which would you rather do?” Mugman’s shoulders slumped. “You said it yourself earlier.” He walked past Cuphead and through the gate. “We don’t have a choice.” Well, they were really doing this. Walking into the most obvious trap in the world. He was going to need a drink after this. Cuphead walked past the gate. It clanged behind him, and he knew without having to look that they were locked in. The music kicked back up again, louder than it was in the halls. He raised his hand, finger glowing. He froze -- almost literally. His breath wafted in the air and within the darkness of the room part of the floor was frozen over. The heaviness was akin to only one demon he knew of... “B-B-Boss..?” His brother said under his breath, hardly believing it. Cuphead didn’t. The aura made him feel like he was freezing but there was no way their boss would be there -- not in a million years -- or he’d had sent them to fetch the machine piece months ago. There’s no way he’d be here doing his lackey’s dirty work, but despite knowing that it didn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine or the way his eyes darted around the room, as if searching for just that slight darkening of shadow… Expecting him to crawl out of hell just to lay into them about another mistake. Another failed mission. It made his skin crawl. He elbowed Mugs, snapping out of his frozen state enough to try and knock some sense into his brother. “Can’t be, you know this,” he said looking around, his eyes squinting into the dark room. Mugs pointed a finger into the darkness lighting the way. His eyes widened, his hands going up to cover his mouth. His brother looked paler than paper. “C-Cup--” Cuphead turned his head to look, willing his finger to brighten so he could see what the heck was going on. If his hand was an actual gun he would have dropped it. Laying on the floor, drenched in red, was Boris. Blood was smeared everywhere, on the floor, on his clothes -- it pooled in his chest cavity like still water. Ribs stretched out of his chest, as if violently torn and ripped into their protruding shape. His head was lulled to the side, marbled eyes staring back at Cuphead and reflecting the light off his blaster. It made him flinch back, eyes turning away, image forever burned into his mind. What… Where was…? Bendy wouldn’t have let this… Drip. Drip.

A low growl reverberated through the room. The brother’s eyes turned towards the source as claws tapped against tile. They had to look up. Dripping, hulking over them, was a giant demon. Arms big and holding it up, the lower half of its body looked like a useless decoration in comparison. Horns curved upwards, and swayed from side to side as it moved. Its chin was practically its jaw, with teeth that spanned upwards towards where its ears should be. They parted, blackness dripping from the maw as it roared. The brothers stood stock still. Air rushed by them, forcing them to cover their faces. The smell of ink washed over them. It filled the air and Cuphead stood dumbfounded, unable to take his eyes off the beast. Even as it swung at Mugman, getting within melee range, he didn’t move. His hair swayed from the force of the swing. His he turned his head to look at the giant arm, eyeing what amounted to spikes on each fingertip. “What are you doing! Run!” Mugs had already poofed to the other side of the room. Cuphead jolted, snapping out of it as he took a step back to be met with a puddle. Something was crawling up his leg and he made a choking sound, kicking off the ink— oh stars, was that a hand? — that seemed to try and grab him. He looked back, just to be met with razor-sharp claws aiming for his face. “Cup!” Cuphead raised his arms just in time to guard. He went flying, rolling across the floor. He grunted and got to his feet. “I’m fine!” He looked around, noticing then the ink that surrounded the platform they were on. Since when was the floor yellow and made of wood? Wasn’t it purple and tiled before? The sound of Mug’s shots popping onto the demon drew him out of his thoughts. “Great, well we need to do something about this thing!” Mug’s was gritting his teeth. “Wait, Mugs! Don’t-!” The demon growled and tore into the floorboards, throwing chunks at them. Cup quickly snapped as his finger gun came to life. He shot pieces out of the air that would have hit him before he aimed at the chunks of wood hurling at his brother. “That’s not what you think it is!” “It’s a beastling demon sent from hell, it’s dangerous! We need to--” “It’s Bendy!” Cuphead yelled. He paled when he saw the beast running at his brother. “Mugs, Mugs you need too--” Mug’s had also frozen, like he had at the realization and didn’t move even as Bendy smacked him into the wall. He seemed to snap out of it as his head cracked against wood, and his eyes widened before he poofed back onto solid ground, stumbling. “W-What?” He wheezed, holding his gut. “That’s Bendy? How—” “There’s got to be someone else in here.” There had to be. That had to be why Bendy had gone beastly. There was no way-- “RIGHT YOU ARE!” It came from just above him. Cuphead jumped out of the way just before a huge knife came down. Teeth -- literal teeth -- on the blade gnashed, as if disappointed they didn’t get to sink into flesh. The tip bit into the wood before being yanked out. Cup stared -- this was also a demon, but he was practically as small as the pipsqueak! His fists clenched. This guy caused all of this? A demon dressed up like he was at some kind of cussing carnival?! “You’re the sunblazing schmuck that did this!?” Cup whipped a hand behind him. His brother was preoccupied dealing with Bendy. He felt his blood boil. “You’re the dead man who killed Boris and made Bendy into hellspawn?!” “UEE HEE HEE! SO THAT’S HIS NAME!” The Jevil threw the blade up. It was swallowed by the shadows in the ceiling. He hopped from foot to foot. “HE DIDN’T WANT TO PLAY! THE PUP WAS NO GOOD AT TAG! OR WAS IT HIDE AND SEEK?” Jevil turned upside down, sticking his tongue out. His grin was as sharp as Bendy’s. “OH WELL! IT’S YOUR TURN NOW!” “You’re a demon, so you should know who we are!” Cuphead had his arms outstretched. “You fighting us is directly against the Devil’s orders! You really wanna get killed by your king? I thought you high lords had more sense than that!” Jevil only laughed and laughed. “KING, QUEEN, KNIGHT, ROOK, WHO’S THE MOST IMPORTANT PIECE IN THE BOOK?” A rock felt like it dropped into Cup’s gut. This guy wasn’t even slightly afraid of the king of demons? How had he managed to live this long? He thought his boss always managed to tie up loose ends like this, what the cuss? He raised his hand, “You leave me no choice!” and started shooting. “THE BISHOP STARTS TO DANCE!” Every single shot hit the jester, yet it didn’t seem to affect him at all— his head was springing back and forth on a spring. "IT'S SO EXCITING... I CAN'T TAKE IT!" The jester disappeared. Multiple clones of the demon showed up around him, spitting out diamonds and Cuphead had to jump up, dodging as many as he could but one managed to clip him. He staggered, gripping his chest. He scanned his body quickly but couldn’t see any new wound. That feeling..?! “Cup!” Mugs came running at him and he turned, his brother grabbing him before poofing back near Bendy. “Wh--” “We’re switching!” “What?!” He was just about to rail into him before he poofed away. Cuphead whipped his head around at the sound of a snarl. He had to jump back before Bendy’s fists came down on top of his head. The boards under them fractured and he was sent balancing on a plank now sticking up in the air, stuck in sludge. He waved his arms around. “Mugs!” He yelled back, and he paused, eyes focusing on his brother’s face. Was he crying..? Then he felt a beastial hand grip around him. It threw him up into the air. “Holy cuss--” The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ceiling. He grunted, peeling himself off and as he fell he shot bullet after bullet at Bendy, who only growled in annoyance. “Dammit pipsqueak!” His voice cracked. “Don’t make me do this! I don’t want to but you’re not--” he ducked, a stray blade from the clown’s fight nearby flew past him, “helping!” All that met him in response was the demon running him down and he had to leap out of the way, rolling on the ground as Bendy crashed into a wall. He panted, sitting up. His hand clenched into a fist as he grit his teeth. “Dammit, dammit, damn it!” His fist hit the ground with each word. He told himself he wouldn’t let this happen and now look at this! The Devil was expecting them to kill Bendy and he just -- he couldn’t -- But then he thought of his brother, of him getting torn up, lying on the floor like Boris was. He ground his teeth. Their contracts swarmed in his mind and he stood back up. Well, if anything… this made the decision easier. Cuss. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He snapped his finger, a yellow glow surrounding it and it started to glow brighter and brighter. He fired a charge shot just as Bendy was getting up. A bestial howl filled the air and shook the ground as Cup started charging another shot. He fired. It would have hit its mark too, had another shot not canceled it out halfway. He blanched, looking to Mugman. There must have been something on his face cause his brother almost jumped when he stared him down. “Mugs! What the hell!” “We’re not killing him!” Mugs shouted back, fists at his side. Was he serious? Cup grit his teeth. “You know what the boss said! I don’t know about you but that,” Cup threw a hand back, the beast was shaking his head off, “is about as beastly as it gets!” “I-I know!” Mugs grimaced. Oh, so he did remember they had to kill him if some stardust like this happened. “B-but we can’t!” “Mugs!” Cup groaned, running his hands over his face. He looked back. “Mugs I don’t want to do this either, but if we don’t--” “Cuphead, are you forgetting?” Mugs looked hurt. Cuphead looked harder and then realized there were tears welling up in his eyes. He was still crying? “We can’t! And because you need a starfallen reason to not kill your best friend--” Cuphead winced, “-- he’s the only one left that can read the map!” Any argument Cuphead had prepared died in his throat at that statement. Oh. Right. The other one... wasn’t an option anymore. He looked towards the ground, and then looked back up. His brother’s shoulders were slumped, eyes hard, but Cup knew better -- he knew that look. He’d only ever seen it a handful of times, after all.

“...Ok fine, we’ll try to snap him out of it.” Or do their damndest regardless. He didn’t know what they were going to do if they couldn’t get the demon to snap out of it. He’d think about it later. “Mugs!”

His brother poofed beside him, rubbing at his eyes. “We’re going to snap him out of it! No ‘trying’, only doing!” Cup rolled his eyes, smacking him on the shoulder. He was going to ignore that nitpicking. “Stop with the waterworks, Mugs, there’ll be time to mourn later,” His heart clenched a little. Oh god, they were going to have to explain that to Bendy, weren’t they? If he didn’t realize? He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over. “What?” “Cup, I thought you said stop the waterworks?” Cuphead blinked. Oh, there hadn’t been something in his eye? Cuss. He shook his head. “Mugs: capture maneuver, go!” “Again,” Mugs gave his brother a half smile, his eyes flashing a bit of concern. “Nice subject change.” He poofed to the side, shooting bullets at Bendy. “Can it!” Cup’s shouted back at him, snapping his fingers. They changed to green as he fired his shots. If his regular ones only annoyed him he’d be surprised if these even got a reaction, but a reaction he got. Bendy shook and snarled, charging him down and he jumped, landing on Bendy’s head before jumping to his back. He had to hold onto the demon’s horns just to stay on, and he managed to snap his fingers back in sequence to yellow, charging another shot. If this didn’t do any damage to him earlier, well… Maybe it’d at least knock him out? He didn’t really have any other ideas, and he was having a hard time getting the demon to still as he was shaken around like he was at a rodeo. “Mugs!!” “Oh my god, it’s Beppi all over again!” Wait, what? Cuphead looked over, seeing the jester preventing his brother from getting over to him with… Were those horse ducks? On a carousel? What the cuss?

The distraction got him shaken off of Bendy, and he flailed, but was caught again by the demon. He was pinned against the wall and he felt and heard a crack coming from the back of his head. His vision swam with stars for a second before it cleared. He grunted, glaring face to face with the demon. Bendy didn’t even have eyes anymore. His horns stretched up taller then they ever had and flopped around with every move he made. His teeth were crooked and sharp -- almost sharper than the clown’s wicked smile. His jaw stretched up past where his ears should be. It was… disturbing. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous. Blackness dripped from his maw and for a moment he wondered if Bendy could have been having an attack in that form. There was a crash, and it took several seconds for Cuphead to pinpoint where it came from. The room suddenly shifted from yellow to purple and Cuphead felt his head slump against the wall for an entirely different reason. He felt dizzy, almost as if he’d just woken up and had all the blood rush to his head. Was… he partially sinking into the wall? Was there even a wall? He tried to struggle but the demon had him good. Holy cuss, so this is how it was going to end: consumed by a cussing wall. He was half expecting someone to put it on his tombstone.

“BORIS?!” Mugman shouted from across the room, so loud it echoed. Cuphead whipped his head around, staring -- the gate had come back, and standing right by it was the wolf. Not dead, not maimed, not bleeding out on the floor. He felt his jaw drop. What in the ever-living hell was going on?!

___ He was wet. His fur was partially singed. He’d dropped his pipe somewhere in the hall where skeletons had attacked him. He was half-asleep on his feet and was planning on resting for just a little when the howling started. He’d bolted through the maze nearly blind just to get back there as fast as humanly possible. Nobody but his brother could have made that scream, no matter how distorted it was -- he didn’t know where the jester had sent him but he had to get back to Bendy, he needed to help his brother. He wasn’t even going to think about the fact that he fell down the stairs. Not right now. Not with the jester in the middle of what looked like a fight with Mugman and what he could only assume was his brother pinning Cuphead to a wall. Boris’s features were tense and suddenly they melted, his ears flattening against his skull. “B-Bendy…?” “Holy cuss Boris is alive!” Cuphead shouted. Boris’s ears twitched. Alive, what…? Of course he was alive! Aggravated and exhausted and desperately wanting a bath but definitely alive. “Boris!” He turned his head, seeing Mugman staring at him, eyes wide. He seemed frightened yet relieved in a way he hadn’t ever seen on the dishware. Were those… tears? “Boris, get out! Your brother’s gone beastly!” “H-Huh?” Boris blinked, looking towards his brother. Beastly... Where had... His eyes widened. “Oh no!” His brother had mentioned it before, back when Black Hat had told him about what being a fledgling meant, about this whole demon magic stuff. He’d remembered his brother being nervous -- still had been -- he… he hadn’t wanted anyone to get hurt. His eyes started to water, his hands going up to his muzzle. His brother… he went beastly? Oh no, he must be so scared… “Boris, Boris no!” Mugman tried to jump past the Jevil, but a carousel stampede met him and pushed him back to the far wall. “PIIP PIIP, LET'S RIDE THE CAROUSEL GAME!” The jester laughed. Boris thought he was weird but if his time with Bendy had caused this, well… Let’s just say the guy wasn’t on Boris’s nice list.

“Boris don’t--” Cuphead was speaking to him now. His brother turned to look at him, his horns flopping around. That was... new. Boris jumped across the moat of ink. It reached and tried to grab for him but he ducked and ran. He jumped up on tiles floating in the sludge where the floor had been smashed and over poles that had broken and fallen over, using the knowledge he had gained from all his years in the back alleyways to maneuver through the wreckage. He’d told himself this plenty a time over the course of their quest, but never was he more grateful he grew up homeless and starving then he was when he was running through the wreckage of a four-way battle between a clown, his brother, and two talking dishes. Ok, so maybe he never exactly worded it like that but it still counted. Bendy pulled Cuphead away from the wall, considering him for a moment before tossing him towards Mugman and Jevil. Boris could see out of the corner of his eye Cuphead crashing into Mugs. Ouch. He came to an abrupt stop, panting, in front of Bendy. The shadows seemed to be alive and he could see them moving all around. Bendy’s form was dripping inky matter everywhere. His teeth were huge, one looked to be the size of Boris’s finger, and he didn’t seem to have eyes. Huh. And… Boris peered, looking to see the stubbly legs attached to a huge body, broad shoulders and massive arms. Boris’s brows furrowed and he looked up at his brother, ears twitching. Bendy didn’t move. A loud, bubbly grumble came from his throat but he didn’t make a move. Boris took another step forward. He snarled. Boris gave a hesitant smile. “H-Hey,�� Bendy howled, the room reverberating. Boris jumped, taking a step back, and he chastised himself for even slightly being afraid of his brother. He wouldn’t hurt him, he was sure of it. Not even like… this. Ink was starting to well up around the edges of the room. Glob like masses crawling up from the moat as they formed hands, and then dripping black stained faces. Glowing eyes met his and started to groan. “What the sunblazing…” Cuphead muttered, looking around as more of the inky creatures formed. Bendy stabbed his claws into the ground, vein like ink stretching into the boards as it dragged more of the creatures from the sludge. “HAVE FUN!” The Jevil danced away and vanished into thin air. Cuphead let loose a chain of curses. Boris was staring at the creatures, paws over his muzzle. What on earth were these…? Were they people? They groaned and twisted -- most of them didn’t even have legs. He backed away as one reached for him. They were really slow, but… they radiated almost the same feeling Bendy was giving off now… Boris felt an arm around his waist and he squeaked, struggling. “Calm down, it’s me!” “Mugs?” Boris yelped, struggling. “Put me down! I need to get to Bendy!” “Are you crazy??” Mugs had to move a hand up to shoot at the creatures. They burst and splattered. Boris took advantage of Mugman only having one arm around him to break free. “Boris, no!” “I have too. I’m not sorry!” Boris cried as he began ducking between a pair of inky legs before he got up and sprinted. Bendy was still anchored to the ground with his teeth gnashing. Boris’s eyes were soft when he looked to him. His poor brother… He squeaked again when Cuphead suddenly got in front of him, halting and ducking when he made a move to grab him. “Stop being stubborn!” “I won’t!” Boris twisted his body to get around him, kicking his feet off the ground in a quick leap. “Boris, he’s gonna--” Cuphead almost got an arm around him but then an ink creature jerked him away. “Sunblazing schmucks!” Boris kept running with the sounds of the cup brothers firing happening behind him. Finally, as his bare paws skid and picked up splinters, he was in front of his brother. Only a foot away he was dripping, a guttural growling sort of sound emanating from him, like the steady babble of a brook. He watched as his brother shook, more and more ink being used to send more creatures at the brothers.

“...Bro?” Boris finally got the nerve to speak. Worry and concern went through him like waves, and he wanted to cry but he didn’t. He forced himself not too. He needed to be strong for his brother. “Bendy…” This time the demon didn’t move. Boris took this as a good sign… or at least he wanted too. He took another step forward. He could hear the cup brothers arguing behind him, shouting. “He’s going to get himself killed!” “You don’t think I don’t know that!” “We need to get over there now, Cup--” “You don’t think I don’t know that!?” “I can’t see that again! I can’t see his corpse again, I can’t--!” Boris was tuning them out, his eyes locked on his brother. He managed to get in front of him, watching him wearily but also curiously. He raised a hand, willing himself to stop shaking but it didn’t work. He didn’t feel scared but his heart raced a mile a minute. Boris smoothed a hand over Bendy’s head, above his teeth. Bendy growled but this time Boris didn’t flinch back. “Dang, bro, you got some big teeth this time, huh?” Boris smiled, though it shook into place. Bendy’s maw parted, and Boris grimaced a bit, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Your breath smells. Do I have to start making sure you brush your teeth?” The growl subsided but only a bit. A rumble was all that remained. Bendy’s jaw closed. “And geez, those horns… I don’t even think I can see your hair under there.” Boris looked up. “And your shoulders are all… boney.” He frowned. Had his brother hurt himself turning into this? “Don’t even get me started on the rest of you.” He didn’t even want to look at it. He didn’t want to think about how much it must have hurt. “BORIS!!” He heard one of the cup brothers calling his name, but he wasn’t paying attention to which one. “I thought you said you wanted to look cool once you got this shapeshifting stuff down.” Boris looked eye level back with his brother, petting his head. “I don’t think this is what you had in mind.” The rumbling ceased. Bendy was still. Only the dripping of the ink down his form remained. “...I hope this isn’t another attack.” Boris pulled his hand back, looking to the ink dripping down his fingers to his sleeves. “...I really hope not, but it might be worse, too.” He looked up. He could feel his own eyes watering up and he swallowed. Only a little bit more, he could do this. “We’re coming, hold on!” Cuphead yelled out this time. They sounded like they were getting closer. “...You’re scared, aren’t you?” It came out almost like a whisper. Boris leaned closer to his brother. “You never like to talk about it, but you don’t have too. You’re afraid of yourself. You didn’t want to hurt me, Cup, Mugs, Felix, Holly, Oddswell, anyone at the house…” He sniffled. “This must be so scary…” He hugged his brother, his arms brushing past slobbery teeth. His clothes were getting stained with ink but he didn’t care. Tears were dripping treacherously down his cheeks. “I’m gonna help you, I promise.” His voice broke and he let himself cry just a little bit. It wouldn’t hurt for just a little bit, right? “Finally!” Cuphead had managed to break through the creatures, approaching Boris. The Jevil reappeared, pushing him back with the carousel attack. Cuphead screamed in fury. “WE’RE IN THE FINAL ACT! DON’T BE SUCH A HACK!” “I’m going to kill you, you starfallen hellspawn!!” Boris heard a crash behind him. Laughter resounded and the cup brothers were clearly getting angrier and angrier. He blinked open his eyes, looking at his brother. “H-Hey…” He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. “I-I just thought of something… H-Hold on.” He ruffled through his bag. If he didn’t know better he would have thought his brother was still watching somewhere. Carefully he took out two large pairs of googly eyes. He shook them a bit, a tentative smile playing across his muzzle. “Y-Ya know… I thought it was stupid.” He sniffled again. “Granny gave me a crafting kit once, when you were off doing whatever. It had glue and sparkles and weird fuzzy wires. I didn’t have fun with it at all, but when I saw these,” he shook the googly eyes, the pupils spinning around for show, “I thought these were hilarious. I thought maybe you’d get a kick out of them… but I haven’t gotten a chance to show you them yet, and now you don’t have eyes, so…” He stretched, placing an eye on either side of Bendy’s inked over face. Miraculously they stuck, wiggling in place for a moment. "There. Now even when you don't take good care of yourself, I'll always keep an eye on you.” Boris gave a big smile, bright as his eyes. “Or eyes, in this case..." The room around him seemed to grow silent. It made Boris a bit nervous and he turned around. Behind him, all the ink creatures that were around or that had been forming stopped. Cuphead and Mugman were also frozen, and the jester demon finished one last attack before laughing and vanishing. “What.. the..” Cuphead was on the floor, hand raised, ready to fire. “T-They s-stopped…?” Mugman was standing to his back, hand pointed at the creatures as well. The sound of something splashing sounded behind him Boris turned. “B-B-Bendy…?” Bendy’s body was falling apart. His body then his arms were dropping into piles of goop, slithering back into the moat of ink around the room. Boris’s eyes widened and he rushed to him, hands grabbing either side of his face. The googly eyes dropped to the floor. “No no no no Bendy I can’t lose you, I can’t--” Arms, tiny but real, wrapped around his neck then. The rest of what remained of the beastial body fell, and Boris had to take a step back as Bendy -- real and warm and absolutely covered in ink -- fell into his arms and started bawling. Loud and unrestrained. Boris felt his own tears running down his cheeks and he fell down with his brother, hugging him tightly and tightly. The room held no noise except for the two of them, crying. And then his brother went limp. Boris’s eyes widened. “B-Bendy?!” He was going to check for a pulse but his brother was still breathing, thank the stars-! Boris almost fell over onto the floor when Mugman’s arms wrapped around him and hugged him tightly. He was sobbing. “Oh, thank the stars! Thank you! Boris you’re alive, Bendy’s alive--” “H-Huh?” Boris blinked, the onslaught of tears dripping down onto his shoulders and he looked over. “Were you… that worried?”

“YES!” Cuphead came up then. His face was also tear stained, but unlike Mugman he looked like he wanted to punch something. He was breathing heavily. Boris frowned. “Are you-” “NO!” He threw his hands up. They were still balled into fists as he threw them back down. “I am NOT OK!” He hissed a breath through his teeth. “What the hell was that?!” “What--” “You could have gotten killed!” “I didn’t--” “Your brother would have killed us!” “Ok I’d come back from the grave just to keep him from doing that.” Boris’s nose scrunched up. “And… I’m not sorry. I needed to save my brother so I did, and… wow I saved my brother.” Boris’s eyes almost sparkled at that and Mugman laughed. “Mug’s this isn’t funny!” “I don’t care! Get down here!” Mug’s dragged him onto the floor, forcing him into now what Boris was starting to consider a hug pile. Cuphead was stuttering the whole time but after being forced into the hug he sighed and wrapped his arms around them. “Bunch of cussing morons…” “Aww, we know you love us.” “You’re so lucky you’re that pipsqueaks brother or I would have nailed you already--” Clap. Clap. Clap. They all froze, turning to the source of the sound. “BRAVO, BRAVO!” Jevil bowed. “WHAT A WONDERFUL PERFORMANCE! TRULY BEFITTING A CREATORS TALENT!” Cuphead raised his hand and immediately fired a charged shot. The jester laughed as his head bounced to and fro. Boris paled as he saw the red enter Cup’s eyes again. Mugman pulled his brother back down. “Bro, don’t--” “LISTEN TO YOUR MUG FRIEND, I HAVE GOOD NEWS TO SPEND!” He twirled, hopping on one foot as the room went back to normal. The ink vanished and the bars had disappeared as if they were never there. His voice echoed around the room. “THE PIECE YOU NEED IS SURELY YOURS INDEED! IT’LL BE A RECORD INSTANCE IN THE CHAPTERS OF YOUR DEEDS!” Cuphead fired again but this time something different happened. The demon poofed up into smoke. Where he was rested nothing more than a measly record. Any and all cold that was in the room seemingly vanished. Collectively Boris and Mug’s sighed in relief. Cuphead was trembling as he stood up. “When I find you I swear I’ll--” “Cup!” Mugman frowned, getting up himself. “It’s over, we got the piece, let’s go.” “Not until we--” “Cup, your eyes.” Cuphead clamped his mouth shut. There was an awkward silence between the two. Boris coughed to get their attention. “So… uhm… Can we go home now?” Cuphead looked down at Boris, his eyes shifting to Bendy. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The pipsqueak ok?” “Exhausted but I… I don’t know.” He frowned. “He’s alive so… That’s good enough, right now.” He stood up, carrying his brother in his arms. Even passed out like this he was still clinging to him. He huffed. “I got the record.” Mugs came back with it under his arm. “We should get back as soon as possible, we don’t know if that whole ordeal heavily affected him or not.” Boris whined. “I know, don’t remind me!” “Sorry, sorry!” Mug’s waved his hand as Cuphead started walking out the gate. “Need to go to a bar after this, stars…”

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@theinkymystery A/N: Before anybody asks, Felix wasn't in this because when I originally started writing this I didn't have anything interesting of note to play around with Felix, and I didn't feel like I'd be able to do his character justice. Combined with me being unsure if I could write around more than two characters and having the story already about a fourth of the way written when I picked it back up last week, I just decided to finish it instead of shoehorning him in somewhere. Even if I do now have something I would have liked to have done with him (Felix being a Zany), I haven't seen his show, so it'd be harder to pull off (and I'd have to restructure the whole story for like the 8th time and I wasn't doing that).

Did you know I started writing this (technically) in December of last year? I've been working on it off and on because there was so many good demon tidbits popping up in each chapter (weekly, mind you) that I kept wanting to include them and it was turning into a vicious cycle. What really got me to finish this up was finding out the next machine piece was showing up soon, and I was afraid it was going to be the instrument and I wanted to get this done BEFORE that happened so it at least had a day to be a plausibility. Knowing me, I would have scrapped this if it wasn't what I thought it was or put it back on the drawing board and I did NOT want to let that happen.

The intention with this was even if you were not a reader of BABITIM, you'd be able to understand and enjoy this while (perhaps) becoming curious enough to check out the work it's based off of (please do -- it's long but so worth reading it in it's entirety).

And ah anybody who read this from the Deltarune side, there's no Deltarune characters in the main work and I'm not sure if there ever will be. Jevil's just a character I love and I wanted to write an interpretation of him here in a way I thought would work with his perceived character (playful and mischeivous) while working off what I feel he'd actually be in person (dangerous, acting as if the world is a game) so yeah. He's not a Darkner here, but a Demon to fit the BABITIM world. Counts with his analogies too, since it's a story and not a game.

Thank you to all my lovely friends and editors, Egg, Mewtea, Mewfang, Kifinosi, Glacial Angel for tolerating my spur of the moment worth ethic and reading over this for me.

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