Hello, welcome to the MCYT Yaoi Exchange event! We are a brother event to @mcyt-summer-of-yuri. This post will serve as our introduction and our FaQ, so feel free to reference this post at any time.
Gift Requirements:
Writing - 1.5K word count minimum (if you intend to write multiple chapters, you must have at least 2/3 of your total story written by posting period and the first chapter must be no less than 800 words long. Also please let mods know in the Discord if you plan more than one chapter.)
Art - clean sketch with lineart minimum (or whatever point of the process this would be in your art style if lineart is not applicable)
Poetry - 100 word count minimum (or multiple shorter poems with a total of no less than 100 words)
Web-weave - at least 1 board containing 10 elements
Other -
Playlist: minimum 2 hours
Moodboard/Stimboard: minimum 2 boards equaling 18 elements
Video Edit: minimum 45 seconds in length
Any other ideas that fall under this category please discuss with the mods.
Please note: If you plan to choose the other category at sign up, please choose at least one of the other main categories.
What is not allowed:
âą Themes of incest (canonical or in relation to headcanons specified in sign-ups)
âą Themes of pedophilia (referring to ships containing minors, such as Child/Adult, Teen/Adult, Child/Child, or Teen/Child pairings, with an exception to platonic or romantic pairings consisting of only characters between the ages of 14 to 17 for Teen/Teen relationships)
âą Themes of underage drinking/drug use (consumption of substances by characters under the age of 18)
âą Themes of abuse (physical/mental/sexual harm inflicted on a character or mutually between multiple characters involved)
âą Usage of slurs (words used in a derogatory fashion against a character in regards to aspects of who or what they are)
âą Lack of consent (while dubious consent may be allowed if requested in your sign up, a lack of consent entirely will not be tolerated)
âą AI generated art (this applies to fanart generated by AI, fanfic created using chat bots, and anything else along these lines)
What is "Yaoi"?
For the purposes of this event, we will not be accepting genderbends or trans headcanons of canonically cis female characters. Yaoi would include any pairing or character who would be eligible to fit into the gay umbrella. They/Them gays are also allowed.
Age Limit:
The age limit to join will be 15. To create/receive any NSFW gifts, on the other hand, the age limit will be 18 and we ask that your gift be censored when posted on Tumblr if it is a visual art medium (though if you wish to DM your giftee with an uncensored version, go right ahead!).
Included Fandoms/Relationships:
The fandoms and relationships will be chosen through an ao3 nomination period. We will explain more later.
Where will the event be held?
This event will be held on ao3 and Discord only. All event updates will come from this Tumblr account and via the announcements channel in the discord.
Collection Link
Discord Link
Timeline:
Mod Applications: June 16th - June 24th
Mod Review: June 24th - July 1st
Discord Opens: July 6th
Nomination Period: July 7th - July 20th
Sign ups: July 21st - August 7th
Gift Notification: August 8th - August 11th
Creation Date: August 8th (when you get the email assignment) - September 30th
Posting Date: October 1st - October 7th
Treat Posting: October 1st - October 31st
Mods:
Here is the team incase you might need us for anything.
We all have our guys we like to toss into the oven and bake to a crisp. We mix them up however we want, and throw in some variables for additional flavour. Unfortunately, sometimes not everyone gets your vision. Sometimes youâre the sole warrior of a nation made up of you and your three mutuals. Worry not, this event is here to save you!
With the help of MCYT Rarepair Exchange, you can beam your most exotic of pairings straight into unsuspecting peopleâs heads. Beware though, the same fate will likely befall you!
TIMELINE
December 7th - nominations and Discord open
December 12th - sign ups open
December 21st - nominations close
December 24th 11:59pm GMT - sign ups close
January 1st - all assignments sent
February 10-16th - posting period
February 16th 11:59pm GMT - posting period ends
February 17-23rd - treating weekÂ
Art - one drawing considered âfinishedâ by the artistâs standards;
TAG NOMINATION RULES
Each person can nominate up to 20 relationship tags, both platonic â&â and romantic â/â from any MCYT fandom. Tags with more than 2 people are allowed and encouraged.
For large fandoms (5k+ works on Ao3 as of Dec. 2024) your tag must have no more than 30 works with your tag included.
For small fandoms (-5k works in Ao3 as of Dec. 2024) your tag must have no more than 50 works with your tag included.
If your fandom has 200 or fewer works, mods will hear cases pleaded for any relationship tag that isn't the most popular/often used to be taken into consideration.
If your rarepair doesnât exactly match the criteria but you believe it fits the spirit of the event, there is space in the nomination form for you to convince us why we should allow your tag into the tagset!
Event runners/moderators reserve the right to disqualify or allow any submissions that may not fit the criteria flawlessly. We will do our best to judge fairly without letting "popular"/"big" ships take priority in this event.
Adult/minor romantic relationships are not allowed in the event. Age of the character will be decided by age of the creator portraying the character during the majority of the SMP/seriesâ run. Mods reserve the right to disqualify any tag that they believe to be in violation of this rule.
Minor/minor romantic relationships are allowed with the exception of characters considered to be extremely underage (ex. Yoghurt (DSMP) or QSMP eggs).
Further instructions regarding the nomination process are included in the form.
SIGN UP RULES
As per Tumblr, Ao3 and Discord TOS, you must be 13+ to participate.
Each participant must join the Discord server for ease of communication. If we cannot find you on Discord by the time the sign up period ends, your sign up will be deleted.
An Ao3 account is required to participate. [Here] is an instruction on how to make one if you donât have one yet.
You must request and offer at least [5] relationship tags across at least [2] fandoms. You can request/offer up to 10 fandoms with 20 relationship tags per request/offer, for up to 200 possible tags total. Plenty of room!
You must either include your DNW (Do Not Wants) or state âDNW: N/Aâ in each request box.
You must include at least one like (setting/AU/trope) or prompt in each request box.Â
You must include your Tumblr url in each request so your gifter knows who to address your gift to.
Please make sure the email attached to your account is one you check regularly, and one you are comfortable to share with the mods, as due to how Ao3 exchange system works, the mods will be able to see it.
If you are 18+, you may sign up for creating and/or receiving NSFW works. If someone under age 18 is found out to have signed up requesting or offering NSFW content, they will be kicked from this event and any upcoming ones.
You cannot sign up solely for creating/receiving NSFW works. You must include at least 1 SFW offer and request in your sign up.Â
NSFW and SFW offers/requests must be done in separate boxes. Example:Â
Request 1: GeminiTay/Smallishbeans (Life Series) - SFW request
Request 2: GeminiTay/Smallishbeans (Life Series) - NSFW request
CREATION RULES
Your gift must focus on at least one of the requested relationships.
Unless your giftee explicitly requests otherwise, your gift may include non-requested relationships to make smaller appearances without overriding the requested tags.
You do not have to create a work for the ship you matched on with your giftee - if one of their other requests speaks to you, go for it!
Likewise, you do not have to create an NSFW work if you matched on an NSFW request/offer.
You must abide by your gifteeâs DNW no matter what.
No AI created content is allowed.
POSTING
Your gift, meeting the requirements, must be posted to both Ao3 and Tumblr.Â
When posting to Tumblr, you must tag both your recipient and the event blog.
Dark, violent, or generally considered triggering topics must be tagged appropriately.
FAQÂ
What if my rarepair doesnât have an Ao3 tag?
Well, itâs time for it to get one! Feel free to request pairings without an official tag.
Is RPF allowed?
This event will not be banning RPF works or tags, and will allow it as a fandom able to be nominated from. The nominations must still abide by the rules for other fandoms in this exchange. If you are unsure if your tag qualifies, please mention as such in the "plead your case" section of the form or send us an ask for clarification.
Are crossovers allowed?
Crossovers are allowed as long as all tagged characters are from MCYT related fandoms! When nominating a crossover tag please specify which fandoms they are from. Example:Â
Joel | Smallishbeans (RPF) & Smallishbeans (Life Series) & Smallishbeans (Hermitcraft) (Crossover Fandom)
Considering the difficulty of deciding by which criteria the different fandoms should be judged, the mods reserve the right of disqualifying crossover nominations if we decide the pair is not considered rare.
Are Major Archive Warnings allowed?
When signing up you can opt in into receiving/creating works including Main Character Death and Graphic Descriptions of Violence. No other Major Warnings are allowed.
What does NSFW include?
On-screen sexual content or detailed elements of gore (anything that would require a rating higher than PG-13; anything you wouldn't feel comfortable showing to a 13 year old). NSFW is not allowed regarding characters that are considered minors.
What if I canât finish on time?
If you figure out you canât finish your assignment on time, please contact event moderators as soon as possible! Depending on whether you just need a day or two more, or are completely unable to have your gift ready by the deadline, we will either give you an extension or send your assignment to Pinch Hits.
Can I create more than one gift?
Of course! Youâre only required to make one, but you can create as many gifts as you like. If you really want to make more than one gift, we suggest signing up for the Pinch Hitter role in Discord, or browsing requests in preparation for the treating week!
If you have any other questions or concerns, send us an ask!
It's November 1st, which means our first annual event is over!
Thank you so much to everyone who participated. And an especially big thank you to my mods who helped me run my first event so smoothly. I couldn't have done it without them!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
gift for @destinys-dragon as another pinch-hit for @mcyt-yaoi-exchange!
Fandom: 3rd Life, Hermitcraft
Words: 1,112
Rating: Teen+
Warnings: No Warning
Relationships: Scar/Grian
Additional Tags: Superheroes, Making Out, Grian has a harpoon gun
Summary: Hero HotGuy gets caughty by vigilante CuteGuy. And they have a little chat.
Fic under cut
For someone whose main weapon is a bow and arrow, HotGuy tends to find himself at the mercy of a pointed tip every now and then. Rather than a bow, from a harpoon gun with a bubblegum pink wrap and the sturdiness of a brick.Â
Light reflects on the tip, shining down the length with cut-throat precision. HotGuy follows the light trail with his eyes, chest raising and falling with battered breathing, pain blooming incessantly.Â
Down the barrel, down the gripâfingerless glove and steady fingers.Â
âYouâre getting clumsier,â the voice says, mocking yet strict, almost disappointed. It brings a smile to HotGuyâs lips, which makes his finger twitch on the trigger. âIs it your age? Or is it, maybe, your ego?â
HotGuy scoffs, lips curving into a smirk. Not the wisest thing to do when there is a weapon pointed at his head, held by someone who will not hesitate to pull the trigger. Still, he takes his time, tracing up the line of their arm, naked skin dirty with dirt and blood smudges and dried-up cuts. Up, up until he finds the edge of a sleeve, black line hugging pale skin, a black sleeveless turtleneck with a familiar symbol on their chest.Â
The cyan and orange fletching with rounded edges, two-tone pink in the shape of a heart. An honor that doubles as a mockery.Â
âAt this rate, youâll get yourself killed. What a shame that would be.â The weapon retreats, secured in the loop of their pants, and HotGuy takes the chance to openly stare.Â
CuteGuy barely spares him a look anyways.Â
His wings fold behind him with a hiss, jarringly quiet in the middle of the noisy city. There is traffic in the near distance, the lively streets and the bustling people going on about their nights.Â
Up here, in the ceiling of some building, there is little light but just enough to see each other. Barely, though, since CuteGuy casts his shadow over HotGuy, and neither gets the satisfaction of seeing the other.Â
HotGuyâs ear piece pings with a message, but his arms remain restrained to his sides. He presses his palms on the ground, dragging his nails on the dirt as he tries to snap the wire holding him down. It cuts against his arms and chest, tension building up to only cause red lines against his exposed skin.Â
CuteGuy looks amused at his attempt.Â
âWhy try? You know you canât get out of those.âÂ
âWell, what can I say, I am a very stubborn hero!â HotGuy hisses back but deflates when the pain becomes too sharp. Instead, he tries to pull himself from the wall, but the harpoon is embedded deep in the concrete. âYou know my people will come find me, right? Theyâll catch you and lock you up if you stay any longer. Treason on top of illegal activities. Not a good time for you.â
CuteGuy turns to him, face slightly lit from his phone. âIf they can catch me.â
âOh, you know they will. Government and all that. You should know.â
He scoffs, âNo, I donât, actually. Didnât stay long enough to know.â
HotGuy gets another ping that he cannot answer and CuteGuy slides his phone into his pocket. HotGuy follows the movement, watches CuteGuyâs hand slide down his side, gliding against tight clothes that leave nothing to the imagination. His eyes flicker up to amusement, which disappears as soon as their eyes lock.Â
CuteGuy walks over, the heels of his boots thundering loud on concrete, and HotGuy happily watches. His location should be easy to track, and sooner or later, someone will come rescue him. Catching CuteGuy is just a bonus.Â
âYour people should hurry,â CuteGuy says as he crouches down, staring right into HotGuyâs eyes. He lifts a hand to his face, covering the upper half of his face before slowly pulling the mask up.
HotGuy watches inches of skin being revealed, still cursing himself for never learning his identity. Fair, though, since he never gave his either. And he knows, after snooping, that the agency has nothing on CuteGuy either. As he said, he simply did not stay long enough to build a paper trail.Â
Still, now that the owl-tipped mask is off, HotGuy is disappointed to see a domino mask flushed on his face. Unlike the pink tones of his uniform, the mask is mostly black with purple gradients on the edges.Â
âI donât think the loan sharks are going to last any longer hanging upside-down.â
Before HotGuy can form any sort of witty response, he gets a lapful of CuteGuy, lips crushing into his hard enough that his head is slammed into the concrete behind him. He groans into his mouth, tasting the smirk on his lips as their tongues find each other.Â
CuteGuy slides a hand behind his head, gripping at the hairs on his nape and yanks his head back harshly, he groans again before being silenced. CuteGuy pushes his chest into his, keeping him against the wallânot that he really wants to go anywhere now. But breathing is hard as CuteGuy demands more and more, pushing and pushing until he starts to feel lightheaded.Â
When they pull away, his bottom lip is caught in between teeth, teasing before they pierce. He hisses at the pain, only giving him the satisfaction of response and reaction. Subconsciously, he tries to free himself, only earning more red marks and another tackle.Â
CuteGuyâs other hand is free to roam, down his chest, raking nails down the worn fabric of his uniform. But he kisses, then he is scratching his neck, his shoulder down his arm. His nails catch on the rope, prompting him to sink his nail further in like this is his fault.Â
The friction is driving him insane, enough that he instinctively thrusts up, drawing a mocking laugh from him.Â
CuteGuy pulls back, and HotGuy pants into his wet lips, âLosing composure already? I thought you were better than this.â
âJustââ
The beam of a search light falls on them, blinding them as it surrounds them with light. Without even looking back, CuteGuy growls.Â
âWeâve got you surrounded, CuteGuy! Turn yourself in!â
âHeard that, pretty bird? Play nice nowââ
HotGuyâs taunting words get cut off with a punch on his jaw, and disaster breaks around them. The police and agents panic, jumping from the helicopters and rushing in from the sides.Â
But instead of doing as they said, CuteGuy secures his mask with practiced smoothness, harpoon on his hand twice as fast, and with a clean shot to the building behind them, he is gone.Â
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bdoubs/EthosLab, Bdouble/EthoSlab/impulseSV
Additional Tags: Hiking, Body Horror, but not really, horror slightly to the left
Summary: Etho extends an invitation to meet up, and finally, Impulse and Etho will meet-up after multiple failed attempts. Bdubs is excited, of course.
And he would be more excited, had Etho's invitation not been deep in the forest.
my gift for @oshawottarchive for the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen
Relationship: M/M
Archive Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Status: Completed Oneshot
Word Count: 2,010
Summary:
Joel had warned him to not get distracted and to stay safe, but Scar couldnât help it! The world they lived in was just so magical, so spectacular, so⊠a-may-zing! How could he not get lost and a little not-super-aware of threats when he was surrounded by the magnificent artistry of the godsâ work?
...he was bleeding though, so that may be a bit of a problem.
I wrote this for @kaije224 through the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange !
this is my gift for @bigb-enthusiast for the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange! i know there's not enough skizzb in the world so i decided to deliver >:)
based on my friend's fic, the boogey!! it's SO good, go check it out, but doesn't have to be read to read this fic! (it helps and gives context, but other than that this can totally be standalone!)
thank you to rain @deityoftherain, kai @kaihuntrr, and kai @Kaije224 from the yaoi event server for betaing!
ALSO. I FUCKING GOT HIT BY THE AO3 WRITER'S CURSE. A FUCKING ONCE IN A LIFETIME HURRICANE DEVASTATED MY STATE WHILE WRITING THIS????? EVEN AS I'M WRITING THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE, I DON'T HAVE ELECTRICITY OR AC LMAOOOO
BUT WE STAY SILLY!!!!! THE YAOI GRIND STOPS FOR NOTHING, NOT EVEN A HISTORICALLY DAMAGING HURRICANE
BigB sat at his desk, numbly staring at the unmoving red dot on his computer- the dot that represented Skizz.Â
Skizz had sacrificed himself- gotten attacked by that thing that had been downing heroes left and right. It wasnât safe to be patrolling right now, not with the Boogey on the loose. The thing, that mass of purple goop thatâd been causing so many missing people and infection cases, was still roaming the city. No one knew what it was, where it came from, or what it could do. Heâd told Skizz not to go on this mission! He slammed his fist down on the table, ripping off the headset that still had Phoenix's panicked voice coming through. It was of no use to him anymore. Skizz was unconscious. Skizz had tranquilized himselfâŠ.Â
And now there was no telling what would happen to his husband.Â
B slumped back into his uncomfortable swivel chair, rubbing his hands too harshly into his eyes to stop the tears from spilling. Vague, muffled shouting leaked from the headphoneâs speakers that BigB couldnât exactly make out. He knew Phoenix was trying to talk to him, to get him to help, but the words were all jumbled together. Everything felt floaty. B could barely think through the fog plaguing his mind.  Â
This wasnât real.
It couldnât be real.Â
âŠWhat was he supposed to do now?
â----
BigB had rushed to the hospital as soon as he was told where Skizz had been admitted. The nurse at the front desk had notified him of Skizzâs condition. Her words still echoed in his mind.
âComatose,â sheâd said. Medically induced. It was the best way to deal with the Boogeyâs infected patients that had been admitted, she explained. There was no cure. B had known that long before this. Something in him had still hoped that fact would have changed in the half-hour drive to the hospital. He still felt the numbness washing over him as he was informed.
On top of that, he wasnât even allowed to see his husband. The nurse had told him that no one was to enter infected patientsâ rooms besides permitted staff. That the risk of contagion was too great for visitors. That didnât make him want to bust down the door to Skizzâs room any less.Â
The best solution he could come up with was throwing himself into his work. At least working at the Traffic City Hero Agency gave him a way to actually help Skizz. He couldnât imagine being a civilian whoâd lost a loved one to the infection, unable to do anything useful- or even know what happened to them. B was never more grateful to be privy to top secret information than he was now. Â
His workload was mentally exhausting, but that was preferred. Anything to keep his thoughts from straying to SkizzâŠ.Â
It mostly consisted of desperate research. Double and triple-checking databases of wanted criminals, missing personsâ reports, and infection cases. Something had to lead him to the Boogey. If not⊠he wasnât sure what he would do with himself.Â
The smaller portion of his work was helping Lizzie.Â
Her and Joel had recently lost their spouse, Etho, to the Boogey as well- which B could grimly relate to. Joel channeled his grief into anger, taking any excuse he could find for field work. Any excuse to get his fists dirty and feel something- even if that usually translated into the sting of wounds and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. While his methods seemed extreme, it was clear that Lizzie was taking the loss harder.Â
Etho had been defending her when they were downed. Theyâd lost themself to the infection for her. B remembered the aftermath, when she had returned from the mission essentially hysterical. He couldnât blame her.
Ethoâs spouses didnât even have the comfort of knowing they were safe in a hospital bed, asleep and blissfully unaware. They were still out there, somewhere. No one knew if they were hurt- or hurting someone through the influence of the Boogey.
Skizz was out of Bâs expertise, but Etho was out of his grasp completely. It wasnât like he- or the agency, even- could do much to help them. Even if they did somehow find and incapacitate them, what was the point? Itâd prevent further harm, yes, but theyâd still be infected. B couldnât do anything to save either of them.
BigB did his best to lighten the burden on Lizzieâs shoulders, but there was only so much he could do. He didnât do field work like her, which only left the half of her job she did at the agency- and even then, she didnât let him take on too much.Â
Lizzie insisted he was working himself to the bone, that Skizz would want him to take breaks.Â
BigB told her she should worry more about her bloodied and battered husband and her missing spouse than her overburdened coworker. He only half regretted it.Â
â----
Life was hard, without Skizz.Â
BigB wasnât aware of how much Skizzâs ever-cheerful energy truly got him through each and every day. Each evening when he arrived home, the house felt⊠cold. Empty. There was no life behind the front door. Not anymore.Â
Everything felt broken.Â
B fell into the familiar motions of making dinner. Pasta. Skizzâs favorite. He always loved alfredo- loves alfredo.Â
He made enough for the both of them, purely on instinct. He used to make them at least one meal every day.Â
The familiarity was nice.Â
Skizz would always mention loving coming home to the smell of something delicious cooking, and B was happy to give him that. Cooking was a big thing in his family, a show of love and care for those closest to you, and heâd always be more than glad that Skizz loved what he made. The man did his fair share, though, chopping vegetables and washing dishes with nothing but a content smile.
He didnât realize when his tears sizzled into the pan where the garlic was sauteing.Â
Skizzâs arms never wrap around his waist. Skizzâs cheek never rubs up against BigBâs neck to tease him with his stubble. Skizzâs mischievous fingers never pluck a noodle straight from the pot for âtestingâ.Â
BigBâs dinner tasted rancid on his tongue.
â----
Two weeks in, B had given up breaks.Â
Bâs eyes burned from both the restless nights of sleep and the too-bright screen of the laptop heâd been staring at for far too long. The all-too-familiar ache in his back had returned with a fierce passion because of his near-constant hunch over his keyboard. The dull pain was a welcome change from the numbness.
His husband had barged into the meeting room with a dopey smile on his face, holding a paper bag above his head triumphantly. Skizzâs expression had quickly transformed from accomplished to sheepish when he noticed the debriefing heâd clearly interrupted. Lizzie had giggled at Skizzâs attempt at a peace offering, which consisted of handing BigB one of the contents from the bag.
They had ended up pausing the meeting for a lunch break. Skizz chatted with Lizzie and Zomblaze about their favorite restaurants. B could still see the way Skizzâs eyes lit up when given the opportunity to talk about his husbandâs interests. He still remembered the feeling of Skizzâs lips pressed to his temple as he said his goodbyes. Â
And he still remembered Skizz wearing his hero outfit when he left the conference room- a nasty gash on the pleasant memory, reminding BigB of what would happen next.
The sandwich still sat on his desk, untouched. It had long gone stale at this point. He wasnât hungry, anyway. He hadnât been for days.
â----
Lizzie asked him, unprompted , if he was alright when he entered the agency that morning, stopping him in his tracks. It took B a moment to process her question, and even longer to notice her furrowed brow. He followed her gaze to the long scratch along his bicep, dried blood flaking across his skin and closing the wound. B had completely forgotten about it.
He couldnât remember how heâd gotten it exactly. His memory from last night was hazy, blurry. All he could remember was the scarlet running down his arm and dripping onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. A clumsy injury while cleaning, perhaps?
He had never ended up bandaging it, too tired to even give it a second glance.Â
Lizzie snapped BigB out of his thoughts as she took his hand, gently turning his arm over for a better look and taking in the streaks running down it. There were dried drips on his pants. He supposed he hadnât bothered to change before heading to bed last night- or leaving the house that morning.Â
âThis isnât healthy , B,â she whispered out. He could hear the way her voice trembled.Â
He didn't have the strength to meet her eyes.Â
â...Whatâs new?â He couldnât help but scoff.Â
B was glad they were alone in the small breakroom, he did not want to have this conversation in front of their coworkers.Â
Lizzieâs pinched expression quickly transformed from worried to determined. âYou canât work in this state, BigB,â she sighed. âIâm taking you home to patch you up, and then youâre resting- whether you like it or not!â
The man barely had time to open his mouth in protest before being literally dragged back out the door. His objections fell on deaf ears, though he didnât know what else he expected. He knew Lizzie well enough to know that once she was set on a goal, sheâd never stop until it was achieved.Â
Her and her spousesâ home wasnât far, it was much closer than his and Skizzâs. B vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation in the break room a few years ago- something about when the Honeybees were buying their first home together. Itâd been not long after the three got married, if he recalled correctly. Theyâd picked the house for its proximity to the Agency, apparently.Â
âŠHe couldnât remember where he was going with that.
Their house was almost as suffocatingly empty as his, now, though. Lizzie had lost Joel as well, almost a week after B had lost Skizz, and about two weeks after Etho. Heroes were dropping like flies all around the city due to the Boogey. No progress had been made to find them.Â
He felt bad, of course, but it wasnât like there was much he could even do. He didnât do field work, and Lizzieâs spousesâ trackers had been destroyed soon after theyâd gotten infected. Theyâd left little to no evidence as to their current location.
He couldnât help them- just like how he couldnât help Skizz...
Lizzie led BigB up the stairs, mentioning something about a med kit. He didnât hear it over the anger bubbling in his ears.Â
He couldnât save any of them.
Of course he couldnât.
"I don't need your help, Lizzie," he couldn't keep from sneering out, ripping his hand from her grasp. Latent rage boiled in his chest. He was a grown man, he could handle himself! He didnât need Lizzie to take him home and clean him up like she was his mother!
She gripped the bannister, turning to face him with the same stubborn expression he'd seen on her countless times in front of her spouses. "Yes, you do need my help, BigB." He could feel her eyes falling to the long cut along his arm. He quickly moved to cover it. "We both need help. We need all the help we can get."Â
B suddenly found the stairs beneath his feet extremely interesting.Â
Lizzie sighed, her tone softening. "...Listen," she stepped down to his level, gently taking his hands in hers. He still couldnât meet her eye. He didnât want to. "We're both going through a hard time right now. Itâs not good for us to push people away in our states- especially each other.â Bâs heart broke slightly at the small crack in her usually strong, if a little uncertain, voice.
He surprised himself when a watery laugh escaped his lips. "You may be right, but that doesn't mean I like to admit it."Â
âIâm usually right.âÂ
B could hear the weak grin in her tone.
The rest of the walk to the bathroom was draped in a slightly awkward silence, neither one able to look the other in the face. B couldnât think of anything to say. What exactly would he say? âYeah, sorry about your spouses possibly being gone forever- my husband is, too!â
That didnât seem like a good conversation starter, did it?
â...Do you want to talk about it?â Lizzie asked quietly as she bandaged his wound. He couldnât remember sitting on the toilet lid, nor his coworker pulling out the medical supplies. The world had started to blur out a long, long time ago.Â
âNo.â Even though BigB knew she would understand, he couldn't. He couldn't talk about it without breaking down. He had a mask to hold up, even if she'd already seen it crack.Â
He wasnât sure heâd be able to put it back up if it came down.Â
She seemed to let the subject drop.Â
Lizzie ended up leading him to her room and forcing him to sit on her bed once he was all bandaged up, demanding he finally get some sleep. He was too mentally weak to protest.Â
She turned to leave the room when given no response, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm. She struggled to slip out, but Bâs grip on her elbow didn't waver, though he did loosen it so as to not hurt. "If Iâve gotta take a sick day, you do too," he grumbled, and Lizzie could already see his eyes drooping.Â
Her eyebrows furrowed together. Heâd seen that too many times today. "No, B, I can't. I've got to make progress on this case, I-" Before she could let out another half-baked, hypocritical excuse, Lizzie was dragged forward onto her own sheets.Â
"Nope!"Â
She sat up quickly, her fists balled into the honeybee-embroidered blankets. âIf I find this monster, I can bring our spouses back-âÂ
BigB finally sighed, looking her in the eye for the first time since that morning. Her rambling, uncontrolled train of thought was way too similar to his own. Heâd spent days convincing himself that he should give up his needs in favor of doing anything he could to help Skizz, but he knew it wasnât good for him. He knew, yet he couldnât gather the courage to stop. At least, not on his own. âWe canât help them if weâre exhausted⊠no matter how much I don't like to admit it... we've gotta take breaks, Liz."Â
She giggled wetly after a moment, relaxing back into the pillows. "Are we gonna ignore this advice and go right back to the unhealthy habits once we wake up?"Â
BigB's smile was strained as he responded. "I expect nothing less."
â----
B jumped at the loud bang sounding throughout the empty conference room. His head shot up to find Lizzie standing across the large table from him. Sheâd dropped a large stack of papers on the wood, looking pretty proud of herself.Â
It was pretty weird that he hadnât noticed her come in- he mustâve been caught up in his work. Where the heck did she come from?
âThis is all the info Iâve found on the Boogey so far,â she explained, rolling a chair back and plopping down. The hero kicked her feet up on the table confidently, which put a slight smile on Bâs face. He didnât realize how much he missed Lizzieâs big ego.Â
âSeems like a good place to start,â he hummed, leaning over to drag the pile to his side. âThough, most of this will probably be stuff Iâve already looked over- no offense,â he sighed, twirling the end of his pen between his teeth in concentration.
Lizzie shrugged. âNone taken. Youâre probably the nicest supervisor Iâve ever had,â she snickered.Â
BigB let out a bit of a half-laugh to let her know heâd heard her quip, though most of his attention was absorbed by the information heâd been given. He was right about it being a good chunk of stuff heâd already seen, either from looking over other peopleâs research or from doing his own. One did catch his eye, though.
âThereâs been more sightings?â B raised an eyebrow at the police report detailing some civilianâs story about purple sludge and a suspicious figure. Seemed to be in some part of town that had been abandoned a long time ago. If he remembered correctly, it had been evacuated due to a gas leak and never fully recovered. Most of the buildings had been left to rot.
Lizzie nodded vigorously. âIâve been triangulating sightings to try and pin down a possible headquarters of the Boogey- or wherever it may have come from. If itâs a lab experiment like some are theorizing, it could be returning to where it was made after its prowls!âÂ
Bâs eyebrows raised. âI⊠never thought of doing it that way beforeâŠ.â Gears were already turning in his head, half-formed ideas of how to use this information surfacing in his mind. He tapped his pen against the table rapidly with his success. âLizzie, youâre a genius!â
The hero grinned with a faux confidence, though he found a hint of genuine pride in herself at his words. âYou know me- genius of the agency!â She giggled.Â
He stood up quickly, shutting his laptop and grabbing the documents he needed. âDo you mind if I take some of these?â He looked back up to his coworker, holding up a few of the papers he planned on snatching.Â
Lizzie shook her head, though her eyes were slightly wide. âTake all you need.â
âThanks-â B barely got the word out between his racing thoughts. He gathered all of his items and headed out the door, making a beeline straight to his office. This could be a breakthrough. Â
â----
He woke up in the hero agency.Â
It was way too warm in the small, cramped room he was given years ago. Something about a "promotion" that gave him no better pay and a shit load more to add to his plate. Light streamed in between the closed blinds from the sole, tiny window at just the right angle to hit his eyes.Â
B didn't remember falling asleep.Â
His laptop had been closed at some point, which he assumed was done by someone else. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted a water bottle left on his desk. The sticky note on it read, âHydrate or Diedrate! -ZâÂ
B wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth, a smile creeping across his lips. Zomblaze mustâve stopped by after heâd fallen asleep. She didnât like to admit it, but she cared about the people at the agency- Well, some people at the agency. BigB supposed heâd been added to their list.Â
He ran his fingers along the fabric falling from his sides. That was new.Â
A blanket had been draped over his shoulders while he slept. It was covered in embroidered honeybees.
â----
BigBâs heart was beating out of his chest.
His leg bounced up and down furiously with his pent up anxiety. Lizzie, Zomblaze, and that vigilante, Phoenix, theyâd recruited had just left the conference room- leaving him with the biggest breakthrough of his career.
Theyâd identified the Boogey. A young girl named Gem, the profile had said. She was, quite possibly- very possibly, his way of getting Skizz cured.Â
The idea seemed too good to be true.Â
Zomblaze and Lizzie had gone out to track down Gemâs brother, Scott, and get any information they could about helping her. From what the trio had recounted, it sounded like she had been infected herself rather than being the cause of the infection.Â
Bâs mind was racing with possibilities.
Having Skizz back might be closer than he thought.Â
â----
Zomblaze had burst into the conference room, making BigB shoot up from his chair. âDo you have any information?â He couldnât help but shout. Volume control was the last thing on his mind at this point.Â
She nodded quickly. âI have terms for a compromise.â
Bâs memories blurred after that.Â
Heâd agreed to Scottâs terms with barely a second thought. They seemed reasonable enough, and he was desperate- anything to see Skizz again- hell, heâd probably risk his own life if that meant Skizz would be safe. His thoughts were racing. He hadnât been this close to having his husband back in weeks- heâd begun to lose hope.Â
Hours of paperwork, discussions, and frantic texts with Zomblaze turned into one big blend of moments BigB had already started to forget while he was experiencing them. Only one thing remained a constant in his thoughts.Â
Skizz.
He drove to the hospital Gem had been admitted to the next day (Was it the next day? He wasnât sure anymore). B was sure that driving in his weird, trance-like state definitely wasnât safe, but he ignored it. Skizz was so, so close- He couldnât give up now.Â
Flashes of front desk nurses and sterile, white walls swam through his head before finally becoming a clear image of the door to the room Skizz was being kept in. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the handle, hesitating for a brief moment as it hovered over the doorknob. Why was he nervous? Scratch that- he knew exactly why he was nervous.Â
What if they couldnât cure him?
What if they couldnât save him?
What if heâ
Gem being admitted to help with the infection came with no guarantee that any of her victims could be saved. That any of them could survive. There was always the possibility that attempting to cure them could just as well kill them. It was all up in the air.Â
B took a deep breath, the nurseâs gaze on his back burning into his very being, and opened the door.Â
The room was dim, barely any light besides the faint blinking and screens of machinery. The distinct rumble of a ventilator filled the room, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.Â
And there, in the middle of it all, laid his husband.Â
It was hard to recognize him beneath the large amount of purple goop pulsing over his skin, but it was definitely Skizz. BigB could recognize that tousled hair and unkempt beard anywhere. The familiarity almost buckled his knees, but he held strong. He had to be strong.Â
He wasnât sure what else he could be.
â----
It had taken a few hours for news to arrive, but B had never been more relieved.
Gem had been brought to a stable enough condition to start ridding patients of infection. The nurse had said that they were prioritizing healing heroes first, and B almost cried with the weight that lifted itself from his chest.Â
Skizz would be okay. Just a bit longer.Â
BigB got his first look at Gem besides her outdated profile when she entered the room. She looked awful, which he couldnât blame her for. Being the main infected for so long had practically turned her into a walking corpse. Her cheeks were pale and sullen, and her orange hair was so brittle it looked like it could be snapped in half. Bâs heart went out to the poor girl.Â
Skizzâs healing process was⊠horrific. But when it was over⊠there he was. His husband, conscious and breathing and alive, sat right in front of him. It took everything in Bâs power to keep himself from trembling with relief in front of the love of his life.Â
He was able to keep his mask intact when Skizz panicked over the IV, his fear of needles kicking in as strong as ever- even after almost dying. He was able to keep his mask intact when the two were left to reunite and just be together after so long. He was able to keep his mask intact when they picked up their usual banter on the way to the parking lot only an hour and a half later, thanks to Skizzâs inhumanly-fast immune system.Â
He had to stay strong for Skizz.Â
Skizz was the one who had gone through this, not him. If anyone should break down, it would be his husband. He had to be there to support him if needed.Â
They kept up idle conversation on the drive home, B catching Skizz up on all he missed while hospitalized. It was so familiar, yet so unfamiliar all the same. Skizzâs crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, even the stupid, loveable way he talked- it was all too much. The moment didnât seem real. The casual domesticity heâd missed so much had just been⊠returned to him so nonchalantly.Â
He almost expected the universe to be pulling a trick on him- that heâd look to his right and find Skizz gone again.Â
But he was right there with him the whole drive home.
â----
Skizz was still there when he woke up in the morning.Â
Having him back was... weird.Â
BigB hated to admit to himself how used to living without his second half heâd gotten. Waking up every day to an empty bed and a cold home became his new normal, after a while.Â
Skizz did his best to hide how he felt, but BigB could always see right through him. Skizz felt guilty. Guilty for leaving his husband behind to pick up the pieces. Guilty for not being there when B needed him most. He'd always put too much on himself, his heart too big for his own good.Â
B could tell that Skizz was still tired, despite what he said about his powers making it better. He'd been home for a few days, and his recovery was still in the early stages. He couldnât walk long distances, and manual labor was out of the question. Skizz insisted he was fine, but the deep eyebags he fostered said otherwise.Â
B didnât blame him for being practically bed-ridden, but something in him was⊠resentful. He longed for normalcy. He wasnât bitter at Skizz, gods no, just at their situation. He prayed for his husband to have a fast recovery.
â----
The sweet, chocolatey scent of BigBâs favorite cookies, a fragrance he could always pinpoint, was a nice surprise when he walked in the door after a long day at the agency. Something seemed⊠off about it, though. Almost⊠sour? He quickly shrugged his shoes off by the door, padding over to the kitchen to peak inside.
Skizz sat on a bar stool in front of the counter, facing away from the doorway. He was hunched over something B couldnât quite make out, muttering to himself. Both he and the kitchen were dusted in a thin layer of debris from what BigB assumed was a baking fiasco. A tray of misshapen, over-cooked âcookiesâ sat on a tray atop the oven, still steaming (or smoking, rather).
âSkizz?â B asked softly.
The man in question jumped, swearing in shock, and turned to face his husband. âB- Boppers! Whenâd you get here? I didnât hear you come in,â Skizz rambled out, frozen like a deer in headlights. It was obvious heâd been trying to surprise B with his favorite cookies, but it hadnât worked out. He found it strange, though. Skizz had perfected that recipe years ago, hadnât he?
BigB made his way over, placing a hand on Skizzâs shoulder to rub circles into the skin there. âJust got home,â he hummed, twitching the corners of his lips up into a soft, if not tired, smile. âWhatcha makinâ?â
At his question, Skizz visibly deflated. âWell, I tried to do something nice for you and make your favorite cookies,â he nodded toward the open cookbook heâd been scanning. âThought I couldnât screw it up,â he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, âbut it all fell through,â Skizz admitted in a mutter, hanging his head. âHad to resort to pulling out the recipe book to remember how to do it right. Turns out I just made you charcoal!âÂ
B got a good chuckle out of that remark, at least. âI donât mind, hun,â he promised, running his fingers through Skizzâs untamed, wild mess of hair. âWe can just make more- together this time.âÂ
âBack hurts,â his husband whined, pressing his head into BigBâs chest.Â
Bâs eyebrows furrowed. âWhen did that start?â This was new- part of Skizzâs recovery journey after being comatose for so long. It was concerning to say the least, considering Skizzâs powers, but neither of them had yet to bring up their worries.Â
âAfter Iâd been in here cooking for an hour,â Skizz mumbled, letting out a mirthless chuckle. âMâ back and feet still hurt, even after I sat down.â
âThat's okay, baby, the thought was enough.â BigB leaned down to press a kiss against Skizzâs crown, smoothing out his flyaway hairs. âHow about we just get cleaned up, yeah? Iâll deal with the kitchen, you go take a shower.â
Skizz hesitated for a moment. âI-....â He paused, sighing. âI took my ring off to bake, but I canât find it anymore,â he admitted. It sounded like he was almost worried, as if BigB would be mad at him for losing his ring.Â
That was concerning.Â
B hummed to himself for a moment. âThatâs alright- wanna look for it while I start cleaning up?â
With Skizzâs nod as confirmation, the two split to do their parts. BigB took to dumping the unsalvageable lumps of borderline ash that were supposed to be cookies. He was tempted to make a joke about the state of them, but decided now wasnât the time. Skizz was obviously upset, and there was no need to make it worse.Â
Heâd just started to get the water going for doing the dishes when Skizzâs frustrated muttering emanated from the other side of the kitchen. B glanced over to his husband. âYou alright?â
The man groaned in annoyance. âI canât find this stupid thing!â He stood up from his hunched position where heâd been checking under the counters, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.Â
B set the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, turning off the water. âWant me to help look for it? You can go-â
âI don't need help- I can do this myself, I'm not an idiot!" Skizz snapped, his hands splayed against his face in the way that told BigB that the situation had really upset him.Â
Almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, his husband was already apologizing. â...Iâm sorry, B, I didnât mean to yell at you.â Through his shame, Skizz made his way over so he could wrap his arms around his partnerâs waist and bury his head into the nape of Bâs neck.Â
BigB squeezed Skizz tight around the shoulders, making sure not to touch him with his hands, still dirty from the dishes, and rest his chin atop Skizzâs head. âItâs alright, baby, youâre frustrated. Youâve been upset with your recovery, youâre not used to it. I understand.â
Skizz took a deep breath, pulling back to look BigB in the eye, even through the tears he was trying to blink away. âIâŠâ His words faltered for a moment before he took a deep breath and picked back up where heâd left off. âI felt bad for not even being able to do something simple for my husband after all youâd done for me. I know this recipe is important to you, and I wanted to make it as⊠as an apology for being gone.âÂ
A silence settled over the kitchen with the admittance. If Bâs heart hadnât shattered before, it definitely had now.Â
BigB blinked away tears of his own. He cupped Skizzâs face, ignoring his dirty, wet hands, and pulled the man into a fierce kiss he hoped conveyed all the reassurances he could muster. It was sweet and chaste, and when he pulled back he ran his thumb along Skizzâs cheekbone. âYouâre too sweet,â B whispered, a watery laugh escaping his lips. âNow, letâs go start that bath, âkay?â
â----
Their bed had never been more comfortable. Something about not noticing things until they were gone, something BigB was far too bad at poetry to explain. He didnât need poetry to simply bask in the love spilling from every part of his being, though.Â
He and Skizz were sat up beneath the covers, B rubbing his husbandâs shoulders. Skizz had mentioned something about them being sore from his cooking earlier as they crawled into bed, and BigB happily suggested to help. Skizz had always said he gave the best massages, anyway.Â
â...I missed this,â he murmured, half asleep, into the back of Skizzâs neck. He hadnât even realized heâd started talking before the words came out of his mouth.Â
Skizz was silent for a moment, probably expecting that B would continue, but decided that wasnât the case. âWanna elaborate, hun?â He asked, and BigB could hear the smile in his tone.Â
B hummed to himself for a second, trying to form his words in his foggy, sleep-clouded brain. âI⊠I missed just this- this domesticity,â he sighed, struggling to come up with the right phrasing. âSomething simple, like this quiet night where weâre just⊠together.â
Skizz shifted to face him, taking BigBâs hands from his shoulders to hold in his own. âAw, I missed you too, sweetheart,â he cooed, cupping Bâs face and pressing their foreheads together. His tone was light, yet his words brought a heaviness to the air that hadnât been present before. A heaviness that held all the unspoken apologies, explanations, and conversations too hard to bring up between them.Â
Now that the topic had been broached, BigB was urged to keep going. There was an opening he could finally fill. "I-I missed hearing your voice... it would get so lonely hearing nothing but my own lungs-" His voice wavered, and he could feel Skizzâs arms moving to embrace him in one of his signature bone-crushing hugs. âYou werenât there to- to pick me up after bad days, or make me smile. Everything was so empty without you- Just- gods, I missed you so much, Skizz.â B surged forward, wrapping Skizz as tight as he could around his middle, almost as if he was scared of losing him again. He couldnât lose him again- he couldnât, he couldn't, he couldnât-Â
A moment of heavy silence passed between them before Skizz spoke again, "...I may have been the one infected, sweetheart, but you were the one who had to live with it. Your suffering isnât negated because I'm struggling too.âÂ
Something in BigB broke at that, the tears finally flowing freely. Years worth of effort to build up a perfect mask of calm collectedness, broken with just a few kind phrases. Was it unfair, or had it been a long time coming?
âThis isnât my battle to fight, Skizz,â he choked out in reply, pulling back and taking in the manâs concerned expression. âYou were the one who was injured, not me. You were the one affected by this. You still are.â
Skizz reached a hand up to wipe away some of the wetness from Bâs face, blinking rapidly himself. âThatâs not true.â His usually strong voice came out a whisper. âI was asleep the whole time, for goodness sake. If anyoneâs taken this hard, itâs been you, B. I may be dealing with the after-effects, but you had to deal with the grief.â
B couldnât even respond, his ability for speech taken over by heavy sobs. Skizz was right, though, wasnât he? BigB had been denying himself the ability to grieve through his belief of not deserving it- all of his pent up emotions finally breaking through his carefully crafted dam.Â
Skizz took his heaving as an acceptance, running a careful hand through BigBâs hair. âIt'll be difficult, Boppers, I know it is, but I love you and Iâm here for you. We can heal from this trauma together, okay love?"Â
Together.Â
They were together.
After all this time, maybe, maybe things would be alright.Â
SmallEtho doodles and fic I made for @mcyt-yaoi-exchange as a gift for @digitaldiscocat !!
Originally this was supposed to just be the first drawing - which I'm really happy with actually! Aaand then I decided to write a little bit of fic with it - and ended up with a 3k words, way more than planned. And then I did the second doodle earlier today 'cos I felt like it. The third is a doodle I did first to figure out how I wanted the boys to look, figured I'd include it!
Buut yeah! Here's all this stuff! And thanks to the event mods for hosting!
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