Hello... I’m back. And it’s v complicated as to why, but tl;dr I guess I sorta took a break from well... in general, everything for a while due to personal mental reasons. I won’t go into everything, but I’m back and I’m ready to write again.
I’m sorry to any messages or inbox requests I got while I was gone or even before, I don’t think I will be doing them or responding to them cause well... it is awkward to do so cause I’ve been gone a while. But yeah... I am still going to take writing requests and also finishing the stories that I left behind.
Also sorry that one story is actually missing on ao3, that’s completely my bad and it was a v impulsive move where I decided to delete one story. Luckily, the story is backed up on tumblr so I will be uploading it again soon.
Also also, just a last warning. I will be changing the icon picture, if you recognize it from another account, just know that actually is my other account - but due to another impulse move I deleted the google account attached to said tumblr account, so now I can’t access it.
So this is day 4 for the FundyFiles’ angst event... except I won’t be following the prompts in order cause it’s already the middle of the event anyway.
The visions never lie. Come today, his lover will be dead.
‘Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen
Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen…’
The words poured from his tongue, bitter yet familiar against his lips. Flickering candlelight bathed the room, his murmurs harmonizing with the whispers of their smoke. The rough carpet scratched at his knees, but it was nothing compared to the dull ache in his bones and the ever growing panic in his chest. His hands were clasped, eyes pressed tightly as though if he were to will it, then it would be so. He should be wary. He knew the gods. He knew their games. Yet here he was again, at the mercy of their fickle kindness, pleading with them to spare the man he loves.
‘Let his flesh not be torn
Let his blood leave no stain
Though they beat him
Let him feel no pain
Let his bones never break
And however they try
To destroy him
Let him never die
Let him never die’
Perhaps it was betrayal, Fundy’s had his fair share, to wish for the life of a man no one cared for. No, that wasn’t true. Fundy cared for him. He’d cared for him even when his father was nothing but a corpse in the ground and when his homeland was nothing but a shattered forgotten melody.
‘Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen
Eleka nahmen nahmen
Ah tum ah tum eleka... eleka…’
He knew deep down his wish would not be granted, and even if it was, how cruel would the gods be in twisting his words? The chant was confused, chaotic. His wishes conflicted. He prayed for his lover’s safety. He prayed for his safety. He prayed that Yogurt didn’t wake to find him like this. It was too much, the prayer turned to a shrill shriek. The candles flew across the room, the force that propelled them had been enough to snuff their light. He was in darkness once again.
“Ugh! What good is this chanting? I don't even know what I'm reading!” Fundy sobbed out, “I don't even know what trick I ought to try… Dream, where are you? Already dead or bleeding?”
He thought of his lover, lost to the soil - where he could not follow, his own soul claimed by the ocean. Fundy choked out a sob, gripping at the edges of his hair. Why did the gods damn him? Why was he cursed to live in tragedy? “One more disaster I can add to my generous supply?”
Oh… but he knew why.
“No good deed goes unpunished. No act of charity goes unresented.” His hands eased on his hair, his legs coming to a stiff stand. The words washed over him, harsh yet kind. He could feel her hands on his shoulders now, her voice leading him home. Fundy understood now. She was right. She had always been right. “No good deed goes unpunished. That's my new creed.”
From the darkness, he emerged, but the warm light of this… place - this hovel - did nothing to soothe him. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white peek from Yogurt’s bedroom. The sight of his son momentarily calmed him, but then he remembered. He wouldn’t be the only losing Dream. He gave his son a smile. He won’t let them make an orphan of his son. He raced out of the house, the sunlight stung his pale figure, and yet Fundy did not stop. He couldn’t stop.
“My road of good intentions led where such roads always lead.” His steps were graceful, skirting past jutting rocks and leaping across babbling brooks. His ears sharp, easily dodging any mob or person that had come to call the forest their home. Fundy paid no heed to the mortal world, for he had always been above it. He should have known from the first wish, when it all came burning down into soot. The gods, cruel or kind as they may be, did not grant the wishes of other divinities. Unless they wanted them. Unless they weren’t protected by a higher being. His wishes were born to be curses. That was always her design. “No good deed goes unpunished…”
Wilbur…
He only wished that his father wasn’t so busy.
New L’Manburg…
He only wished to protect his home from Technoblade.
Dream...
“Dream!” He could see him now. He could see the executioner’s blade too.
“One question haunts and hurts. Too much, too much to mention…” He wished Dream would look his way, but this wasn’t for him. This was to save the man he loved and to save his son’s father. This story was never about him. “Was I really seeking good? Or just seeking attention?”
Fundy weaved through the trees, as much as he would love to see Dream before he left, he knew that the ocean would be too far away, and Fundy did not pride his quickness to arrive there in time if he were to stop now. Despite himself, he paused for just a moment. They had thought it fitting that Dream was to be executed near the site of where L’Manburg used to be. An end to the tyrant. An end to all tyrants. Fundy could still hear the chains in his ears, could still see the vision in the back of eyes. His visions never lied. If Fundy doesn't do something, Dream will die here.
“Is that all good deeds are when looked at with an ice-cold eye?” He’d tried to be good his whole life. Maybe he had always been wrong. Maybe, just like the gods, just like her, he was nothing but selfish. “If that's all good deeds are maybe that's the reason why…”
His wishes were curses because he was selfish. Because she was selfish.
“No good deed goes unpunished. All helpful urges should be circumvented.” Well, one last wish then. He’ll pray to her, and he’ll pay the price. “No good deed goes unpunished. Sure, I meant well…”
He could no longer see Dream. He wished he’d told Yogurt how much he loved him.
“Well, look at what well-meant did…”
He wishes she changed her mind about taking him away.
“All right, enough, so be it, so be it then.” He turned to the ocean, the waves clinging to his ankles, pulling him home. “Let all of them be agreed, I'm wicked through and through.”
Dream was not a good man, but Fundy loved him anyway. So yes, he’ll make this wish. He’ll bring her here.
“Since I can not succeed, Dream, saving you.” He can’t do this on his own, but she can. And she only wants one thing in return. “I promise no good deed will I attempt to do again.”
Let her wreak havoc on this godforsaken land. Let her save his lover.
“Ever again.”
It was all he could do to save Dream.
“No good deed will I do again!”
He screamed.
His mother laughed back.
Fundy doesn’t remember anything more, for the ocean had finally claimed its lost offspring.
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Bonjour! How have you been? I hope school hasn't kicked you down to much lol.
I saw a post wear the Las Navedas Gang all get possessed by Charlie Slime via slime being in there bodies. In my head I continue this AU by saying he's trying to make a place that humans will come to so he can learn about them. I think there eyes would have a film of slime over them making them look glossy.
The longer someone has been slimed the more the body expects the slime eventually becoming slime and sinking into the ground until it's formed a new slime person. When they remerge(After 3 weeks, if there is another slime to help them maybe a 6 weeks if not) they have zero memories of there past before they got slimed.
I hope you enjoy your holidays <3
Hello! As you can clearly tell, school has kicked me down if I’m answering this late lmao.
So, just a hint of warning, I don’t actually like that headcanon very much. Granted, I don’t like slime. As in actual slime not the character. I just find it disgusting and I don’t like stories where there is non-consensual body modification and slime is used. I just find it gross to be honest.
As such, the below fic doesn’t really explore that all that much. Fundy is still a slime person, but it’s just him being said slime person and being very confused. So... yeah.
Hope you like this!
TW: Implied Non-Consensual Body Modification and Memory Loss
He awoke with sand in between his fingertips, and a dull ache in the inside of his throat. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even understand where he was at all.
Looming structures peered down at him, the scorching sun bright against the cloudless sky. His feet felt week, and he fell back onto the ground where he had emerged from. His nose scrunched up, disgusted at the sand that had mixed in with the slime of his skin. He particularly didn’t like how the sand blended into the orange, like it was a part of him. Like sand will always be a part of him.
His eyes - pinpricks of black now, no brown irises, no flecks of gold in them, not that he remembers - scan the area around him, focusing on a pile of clothing that had been kicked to the side. He reached for them, fingers grazing the cloth.
He put them on, unsure why he had to, but feeling like he needed them.
He pauses at the hat. He’s put everything on but the hat. It was black, worn and scorched at the edges. There was a gold decal at the front, not that he knew its meaning, not that he cared even. He continued to stare at it, and then promptly tossed it behind him. He didn’t need a hat. It would just absorb itself into him.
With nothing to do, he began to pick out the sand and let his mind wonder.
Mind. Did he have a mind? The only way to answer that was to stick his hand inside his head. And so he did. He brought his hand out after a while of searching. Maybe he didn’t have a mind. That or it was made of slime, like him.
Slime. There was something about that word. He didn’t know what it was. He glanced down at his hands, orange and still speckled with sand. Bits of him were drooping right on the ground and onto his clothes, but he wasn’t worried about... losing more slime? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how this was even possible.
And then there was an abrupt thought. Had he always been slime?
“P-papa? T-that you?” A small voice whispered from behind him, breaking his train of thought. He swiveled, a part of him eager to see who was there. A small arctic fox hybrid stood behind him, eyes wide with tears, though from the puffiness of his face, the child had clearly been crying for a long time. “Papa!”
Is this his child? He didn’t know. And it didn’t make sense why he would have a fox as a child. Everyone knows only humans and salmons could have foxes.
He didn’t do anything though when the child jumped into his arms, holding onto his clothes because the slime of his skin kept falling from the kit’s grasp. He decided he liked having a child. He wanted this one. He wrapped his arms around the kit, letting him cry into his clothes and refuse to let go. He ran a hand through the child’s hair, sad that the fluffy white hair and fur would have to go.
“Yogurt mished you lots!” The child sniffled, but he had calmed down. He still held the kit in his arms, a part of him refusing to let go. He did decide to make this child his now, even if he probably wasn’t the child’s actual parent. It didn’t matter. He knew the child’s name now too. So, this child was his. “Where go?”
“Y=Yogurt.” His voice was garbled, but he continued on. “Are y-you... h-hungry?”
