୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐⋅ kailey

୨ৎ : faewoven on ao3 | she/they | ic y0gurtfae | mostly trafficblr / hermitblr *ੈ♡⸝⸝🃏༘⋆

[faeriewoven]

　 　𝒞　˳　 kailey ⠀﹒ ⠀fic writer , reqs open ⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀ she / they ⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀ ⠀ 18　⏖ twt

𝜗　﹒　ao3 , spam acc , masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀︶⠀⠀expand for more info⠀ ݁⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓂂　

➼ my main fandoms right now are bungo stray dogs, the life series & hermitcraft, POW smps, and nevermore! but i also like tgcf, mdzs, hazbin hotel, demon slayer, six of crows, and buncha other niche media that i will add to this list when i think of it!

➼ my requests are open!! feel free to just ask if u want me to write anything for any fandom i just mentioned and chances are i will as long as its not like morally wrong (no noncon, dead dove, etc.) and i can write x readers (other than life series & hermitcraft ones) too like genuinely ill write anything

➼ i am a full time college student (english & history major, so already ALOT of writing) though so please take in mind some requests may take me a minute!

ASKS

➼ to request a fic or if u rlly js wanna ask me whatever click on the lil ♡ button under my bio!! anon is fine too like literally u guys can info dump, ask me random questions, req fics, whatever u wanna say!! (im desperate for interaction)

　

　

　

　

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

134k+ Words | 6/13 Chapters

Time Travel AU , Historical AU , Scarian

[faeriewoven]

chapter six of on borrowed time out this saturday!

[faeriewoven]

Grounds for Suspicion

Oneshot | 3k+ words

ranpoe , coffee shop au , fluff

[momariemondschein]

𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳’𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳. “𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, “𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥. “𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦?” [...]

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥,” 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺.

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺.” 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. “𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨,” 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥.

“𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯.” 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯. 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰. “𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵.” 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳’𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. “𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦.” 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. “𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥.

Art for this scene from chapter 2 of "On Borrowed Time" by @faeriewoven :]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76035181/chapters/198948186

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

5/13 Chapters | 89k words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

the main thing that stuck out to me after binge-reading On Borrowed Time was definitely the way you write character emotion bc OMG. of course i love the descriptive prose, the sheer amount of research you (probably) put into the fic. But WOW. the way you write dialogue and internal conflict is just SO SO smooth and genuine, i dont even know how to describe how much i admire it. thank you for the wonderful fic <3

AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH im still working on writing dialouge and emotions as its one of the things i struggle with the most when it comes to writing so you saying its one of the things that sticks out the most really means alot !!

[faeriewoven]

im curious what eras/time periods chapter 3 and 4 take place in cos i dont think it was explicitly said

also i am in love with on borrowed time its written so beautifully

chapter three takes place in the golden age of piracy so around the early 1700s! chapter four takes place at the turn of the regency period into the victorian period, but overall in the enlightment, placing it around 1820-1830! The exact years aren't super important since they're spread out so much right now, but as we get further along I'll be more specific!

Also, now that you know chapter four takes place in the early 1800s, the mention and explanations of quantum physics may seem a tad anachronistic, since most of it wasn't explained until the 20th century in our universe. However, that is merely because Mumbo Jumbo did not exist yet so since he exists here thats why I can explain it so early on mhm (i just have other things planned for the 20th century and had to fit in the explanations somewhere, so i guess mumbo cannonically invented quantum pnysics in this au)

And thank you so much, I'm glad you like my writing!!

[faeriewoven]

dude. on borrowed time is so amazing i love it so much i cannot use words to express how much i love this damn fic. i love it so much ijustahjasbfukasbfjkeabfaueibfies

im glad you like it so much !!! :D

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

4/13 Chapters | 58k words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

3/11 chapters | 36k+ words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

chapter four out Saturday, February 28th!

[faeriewoven]

Fastening Myself to You With a Stitch

3k+ words | oneshot

hurt/comfort , hellfire (apokuna/cherrifire) , bannerfall smp

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

3/11 chapters | 36k+ words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

2/11 chapters | 21k+ words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

chapter three out this saturday!

[umcytblrsexyman]

ROUND 3 POLL 16: LDSHADOWLADY VS PYROSCYTHE

Round 3 Poll 16:

Ldshadowlady

Pyroscythe

Voting ended onJan 19

Pyroscythe: (he/they)

Featured In:

vampires smp, cowboys smp, kaboodle smp

LDShadowlady:(She/Her)

Featured In:

Misadventures SMP, Impossible Minecraft, Wild Life, Secret Life, SOS, Empires, Afterlife, Last Life, X Life, Kingdomcraft, Crazycraft, One Life, Funcraft, Base Invaders, Trollcraft, Shadowcraft

[faeriewoven]

On Borrowed Time

2/11 chapters | 21k+ words

time travel au , historical au , scarian

[faeriewoven]

A Belated Family Christmas Dinner W/ The Watchers

── A Life SMP/Evo Smp Watchers Christmas drabble ft. Grian and BigB | expand for full fic!

this is just a fun little festive drabble for Christmas (moreso day-after-Christmas) so don't expect too much!

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: eye horror, body horror, and weird gross flesh stuff

rating: teen and up (for horror and cursing)

characters: grian , bigb, misc. watchers (no shipping)

Grian thought he had escaped when he threw himself into the games. He thought that by ruining their grand project, they would cast him out and he could finally be rid of them.

He was sorely mistaken.

One moment he was in the midst of a battle on a snowy plain, getting his ass absolutely handed to him by a piglin brute, then the next he was at a dinner table.

The table was wooden, oak he presumed, the chairs were normal, the walls looked like ordinary house walls. The first odd thing he noticed were the portraits that lined the room; various eyes in a wide array of colors, shapes, and sizes, were framed individually and messily spread as wall decor.

The framed eyes seemed to move, jittering and twitching and angling towards the most recent movement in the room; which happened to be dust motes falling through the window.

Though, Grian couldn’t tell where the light from outside was coming from. It was angled directly through the window but there was no sun in sight, nor was there a sky. It was pure shifting blackness.

The air was thick, but not in any identifiable smell. The closest thing he could call it was metallic smoke. Whatever it was, it hurt to breathe in.

The only entry and exit point in the room was an archway which also appeared to lead to nothing but the abyss, except this time, Grian could barely spot the whites of eyes peering through the darkness. These eyes were still. They were not moving to the closest source of stimulation, like the framed eyes. They stayed completely motionless, just watching. Watching Grian, watching the room, watching the eyes that were watching the dust motes.

“I know you’re there.” Grian finally spoke.

He knew the moment he appeared in this place. The decor just made it more obvious, this place had Watcher written all over it.

“That’s no way to greet your family, Xelqua.” A voice sounded out from the arch leading to the abyss. It was ominous and melodic.

“You know I don’t consider you that. And you certainly know that’s not my name.” Grian didn’t move to look at where the voice was coming from.

“Right. What is it you go by now?” The voice paused for a moment, as if its kind needed to think. “Grain, was it?”

“It’s Grian.” He knew they were just trying to provoke him.

The voice made a sound that was supposed to sound like an amused laugh, but it came out sinister.

“Grian. What a funny name.” It mused.

Grian took in a deep breath. It was obvious the Watchers summoned him here for a reason, and the quicker he figured out this reason, the quicker he could leave.

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve brought me here?” He asked, deciding not to hide his annoyed tone, it would know anyway.

“Can’t we just want a pleasant family dinner for Christmas?” It sounded like a disappointed mother figure now.

“Christmas was yesterday.”

“Oh well, a belated family dinner then. Your friends did make quite the feast with the recent games.”

Grian finally heard the faint tap of footsteps, the the emergence of a figure cloaked in purple from the abyssal arch.

A line of more figures followed that one, all dressed in the same garb; a purple cloak with the distinct, simple Watcher symbol on the back.

Only one had their hood down, showing their face, still scarred from the sword strike that had killed them moments before Grian himself had died.

BigB took a seat on the left side of Grian.

He didn’t look at him.

That, more than anything else, sent a chill down Grian’s spine.

BigB sat stiffly, hands folded in his lap beneath the table, posture perfect in the way Grian remembered trying to be, once. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, like he was staring through the wood grain rather than at it. The scar across his face glistened faintly, as if it hadn’t fully decided whether it was just opened or a years old.

The moment BigB sat, the room tightened.

Not physically, but Grian felt it all the same, like an eye waiting to blink. The Watchers around the table leaned back in their chairs, some crossing nonexistent legs, some folding hands that didn’t quite match, giving him room.

Every inch of empty space felt intentional, curated. Like they were making sure there was nowhere he could press himself against, nowhere to ground.

BigB still didn’t look at him.

That was worse than the eyes.

The framed ones along the walls had abandoned the dust motes entirely. Each was angled now, subtly but unmistakably, toward Grian. Some blinked too fast. Others didn’t blink at all. The whites of the eyes in the archway glowed faintly, just enough for Grian to feel their focus like heat against the back of his skull.

He shifted in his chair and every gaze followed like a thousand lenses refocusing.

“You’re fidgeting,” said the voice at the head of the table. “You always did that when you were uncomfortable. And we tried our best to make you oh so comfortable this time.”

Grian froze.

“Did you not notice? We made sure to replicate human housing to perfection. Don’t you feel right at home?” It asked.

The question seemed innocent, but as it waited for a response Grian could feel the pressure of a million eyes pointed directly at him. He could feel each and every part — the cornea, the iris, the lens — analyzing his very being. The flow of fluids in the ciliary muscles was almost auditory.

Before Grian could respond the weight of the eternal gaze lifted as food appeared on the table. Though, he wouldn’t call it food.

It wasn’t flesh, not exactly. It was thick and sluggish despair pooled in a bowl, dark and glossy, surface rippling with half-formed expressions that vanished if he tried to focus on them. Another plate held something like meat, though it pulsed faintly, each slow throb accompanied by a thin, keening sound, like a breath pulled through clenched teeth.

“This is sick,” Grian muttered.

“Oh, don’t be rude,” the first voice said, now seated at the head of the table. This one had chosen a face that was vaguely human though it was smiling too wide and its eyes far too numerous.

One of the Watchers reached forward. Their hand split open down the middle, fingers peeling back like petals, revealing a single large eye embedded in the palm. It lowered itself into the dark substance and scooped some up, the eye rolling blissfully as it did.

They ate with their eyes. Grian knew this, he’d seen it himself a few times by now but he still wasn’t used to the horrifying scene.

He saw BigB move out of the corner of his vision.

The scrape of his chair was quiet, but in the silence it sounded deafening. He reached for a plate with deliberate care, like he was afraid of knocking something over, like the room might punish him for a mistake.

His hand trembled as it hovered over the pulsing meat. For a moment his fingers curled like he was about to pull away.

Grian leaned toward him instinctively. “BigB,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to—”

BigB’s head snapped up and his eyes met Grian’s at last. Though they weren’t fully his anymore. The brown was still there, but threaded through it were veins of violet light, branching and crawling like cracks in glass. His pupils were elongated, stretching vertically, twitching as they focused.

“I do,” BigB said, his voice forcibly steady.

“They said it’s easier if I participate,” he continued, picking up a piece of the meat with careful fingers. It squelched softly. “They said you struggled because you fought it.”

Grian swallowed. “They’re lying to you.”

BigB smiled before responding.

“They told me you’d say that,” he replied, and lifted the food to his face.

It didn’t go into his mouth. Instead, it dissolved before it met his lips. His shoulders relaxed as it did, tension bleeding out of him like he’d just been allowed to rest for the first time in years.

The Watchers watched him with open approval.

“Our replacement is adapting beautifully,” one crooned. “So much more compliant than you ever were.”

Every eye turned back to Grian and the pressure returned, heavier now. He felt it in his chest, in his throat, like invisible hands urging him inward, folding space around him despite the distance.

A plate slid toward him, pushed by nothing.

It stopped just short of touching him, leaving a precise inch of space between ceramic and fabric.

Grian saw himself reflected there, not as he was, but as they wished to see him. Smiling too wide, standing too tall, watching people fall and telling himself it was for the story, for the game, for them.

“This is what family does,” the head Watcher continued, spreading its hands. “We share. We sustain one another. You left us starving when you went rogue, Xelqua.”

Grian stood and the pressure intensified, the air growing thicker, burning his lungs.

“Then choke,” he spat.

The moment the words left his mouth, the room felt smaller. The ceiling pressed down. The walls crept closer, eyes multiplying in the corners of his vision.

“You don’t belong at this table anymore,” the Watcher said gently. “But you’ll always be part of the meal.”

Eyes slammed shut and burst open again. The walls warped, wood grain twisting into veins. The Watchers rose as one, robes billowing, eyes blazing.

BigB flinched at the noise, hands flying to his head.

Grian reached for him without thinking, barely brushing his sleeve. For just a second, BigB’s eyes cleared.

“Run,” BigB whispered.

Then the table split down the middle, spilling despair like spilled wine, and the abyss rushed in to swallow Grian whole.

And somewhere behind him, amid the screams and the feeding and the watching—

The Watchers laughed like a family enjoying dinner together.