MCYT Musical Bingo

Today's fic is inspired by Sweet Tooth by Cavetown!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

mcytmusicalbingo

We don't usually add comments when reblogging, but congrats on filling the whole board!

It hurt.

Over and over again.

Blood.

But they never stopped coming back.

It was a simple question, when that last breath left their lips.

Again?

Yes.

They cut and slashed and screamed. They lied and broke and fell. But every ending was a promise. This time, things could be better. This time, it could be their chance. This time, it could be the last.

But it never was.

Why?

Was it an addiction? Possession? Shear painfully human desire? Maybe none. Maybe all.

Maybe.

Tango couldn’t feel his hands. He couldn’t feel his feet. He couldn’t see. Everything was aflame, crackling and scorching. It filled his vision, his soul. Screaming, someone was screaming. No, that was his voice. He was the one shouting and spitting and scraping his throat raw. It was gone. Everything that they worked so hard for. Everything that they had built in spite of everyone else.

Gone.

It would have been one thing if this was just his. But this was theirs. It was hurting his rancher. Wait, there was another voice, panicked yet gentle. And a hand wrapping around his arm. And a flinch before the hold tightened.

And Tango could see again.

He could see a tearstained face begging him to stay. To calm down. To SNAP OUT OF IT! TANGO TANGO SNAP OUT OF IT! TANGO SNAP OUT OF IT! PLEASE TANGO! LOOK AT ME!

They were going to pay for this, for hurting his rancher like this. But right now, he had a home to rebuild.

Scar had done it. Even if he hadn’t exactly agreed to most of it, he thought he might as well take credit. His business was finally working, even a small success was profit. But, more importantly, Scar had just secured world peace.

Okay, maybe that was a bit extreme in terms of word choice. But that’s what he had done wasn’t it? Prevented who knows how many deaths, reignited old bonds. Even the sky seemed just a shade brighter.

He should go admire his work, instead of patting his own back up in the clouds where no one could see. He deserved the recognition.

So why was everyone yelling at him? He just wanted to finally see those smiles that he had watched from afar. The laughter that echoed in his dreams and nightmares with equal sound.

He felt so much lighter now, like he was floating, was this how it felt to have worth? No, not floating, falling.

Of course he couldn’t just listen.

Etho knew he needed to let it go. Let him go. This was just the nature of things, it was inevitable. It was Etho’s fault for getting so attached in the first place. But as hard as Etho tried, that line in the sand never stopped looking so deeply wrong. It never stopped feeling so empty this way.

There had been a thousand little mistakes on both sides, and there were a thousand little chances for things to have gone differently. And as Etho watched a face that would never be quite so warm again disappear over the horizon, he couldn’t help but wonder.

But no matter how hard he tried, one way or another, things ended right back where they started. Maybe he should just take the hint, stop playing with something that wasn’t his to control.

He should have just taken the hint.

This was all his fault wasn’t it?

For a split second Mumbo felt conflicted, guilty even. He hadn’t exactly taken pain into account in his design. But it was working, the blood and screaming and crunching meant it was working.

It meant Mumbo would be whole again.

Everything went dark. Not as if someone had simply turned off the light. No, it was as if someone had filled the space with ink, taken away Mumbo’s ability to see at all.

And then the darkness shattered. Blinding and empty and sharp and fluid.

And Mumbo could see everything.

The screaming stopped, though Mumbo wasn’t quite sure when. Mumbo took a breath, deep and cool and warm.

He was whole.

Yet he had never felt more torn apart.

X hadn’t been entirely unwilling.

Maybe it was just him trying to see the best in people, or wishing he hadn’t caused as much damage as he did, but either way, he had begun to follow. It started simple, innocent even, just another in a long line of silly schemes that intended no harm.

But then X tried to look through the fog, tried to see what was really happening behind closed doors. Doors that, by all accounts, he should have been on the other side of. And X felt a shock. Small at first, like static, a quick prick.

It didn’t stay that way for long.

And X couldn’t remember what it was like to not be in pain.

And he started to wonder…

Had he truly been so willing in the first place?

#mcytmusicalbingo #yellowboard #dsmp

dabble-dabble-dabble

I Aim True and the Ground is Where I Go

Hello second fic for @mcytficfight and @mcytmusicalbingo

Fae are fickle beings, choosing to avoid humans, especially after the war. Sadly Technoblade found the ones that are happy to invade his life whether he wants them to or not. At least he isn’t bored. AKA Twinduo fae au, where Wilbur bugs the shit out of Technoblade and he finds it funny.

No warnings just sillies being silly

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Also, this fic doesn't support William Gold in any way. I have taken the character and made him my own. I don't support what William has done or will do. I always write about the characters and never the people. Support victims and be supportive of each other.

The throne room was empty. Just sunlight and carpet and the great seat that marked its end. And Bdubs. It wasn’t all that often that Bdubs was alone in here, free to feel the sun on his skin, not just a shadow. Maybe he should have tried harder to be in the spotlight, lifting himself up instead of someone else.

It was good to be in the shadows, making the decisions and giving the people someone else to blame. But somehow, he couldn’t ignore this feeling of insignificance. Maybe things were better this way, maybe he just wasn't worthy of a position such as this.

Or maybe, things didn’t have to stay this way.

They weren’t always so different. Even now, if things had been handled differently, they might have ended up identical. But of course, life had not been so kind. And X had to make a tough decision, a decision that would follow him into his dreams and press on his shoulders for years to come.

But somehow, an all too familiar face stared back at him. A face that had changed so much yet not at all. A face that was like a mirror, however distorted and cracked. And X knew he had failed, he had mouthed the words planed to say every single night since, but now, none would fall from his lips.

The pair locked eyes, and time froze and stretched. And finally…

“I missed you.”

“Don’t make me get all sappy.”

“I just— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did and…”

Slowly and suddenly, EX wrapped his arms around his brother. And X did the same. And somehow, everything had changed, and everything had stayed the same.

“I’m sorry too.”

Grian hadn’t expected things to last this long.

It had been nice the first few days, having someone to watch his back. Or more accurately, having a back he needed to watch. Still, they had to betray each other eventually, right? It was in their nature, it was written in the rules carved into their hearts. Yet somehow, the desert was still home. Despite the impossibility, they were here.

Until the very end.

And even then…

It was impossible.

#mcytmusicalbingo #redboard #witchcraft smp

Scott used to like the rain.

There was something calming about the sound of raindrops against the rooftops and the smell of grass in the air. It was beautiful, both nature’s power and restraint on full display. The more Scott thought about it though, the more he realized that, for all its merits, he didn’t truly like the rain. No, he liked the things the rain used to mean.

The rain used to mean a warm smile beside him.

The rain used to mean cozy nights laughing by the fireplace.

The rain used to mean time together.

And now…

It meant nothing.

Not in the sense that it was void of meaning, in the sense that it embodied nothingness, empty. The rain meant loneliness, loss, heartbreak.

Maybe this was just Shelby trying to get into his head, take out the competition.

Since when had he started thinking that way? Did that really matter? He needed to start accepting who he was becoming, it was all for the greater good.

Was it so wrong to want a happy ending?

Was this really going to be a happy ending?

You are not perfect, but you are us.

Let us teach you.

Do not fight this.

Scar turned his head around, looking for the source of the voice, it was cold, and strangely melodic.

We are here.

We are you.

Scar began patting down his body, searching frantically for a speaker or even a crystal or anything. As he did so, he noticed how his skin had lightened to a shade of satin blue, and as he opened his mouth to yell or gasp or perhaps both, he noticed how sharp his teeth felt against his tongue. “What are you?”

We are called many different things.

Scar turned his gaze to the sky, deciding that was the best thing to give a stern yet terrified glare. “Could you list a few?”

Some call us gods.

Others demons.

Most however, call us Vex.

#mcytmusicalbingo #blueboard #hermitcraft

ringnea

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought - from Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours. Jevin’s old, so he’s seen a lot and expects very little. So when he’s invited to help the hermit’s own ghost crew with something, he’s so down to help. After all, driving the team and making sure they don’t die isn’t too hard. Jevin has no clue what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. AKA Jevin is dragged by the GIGS crew to ghost hunt not knowing that he’s going out on the field.

Hi hi, this is my first fic for @mcytficfight and @mcytmusicalbingo

TW: Ghosts, some bones, and gore mentioned (very light). Feeling alone even with others and a bit of dehumanization. Jevin isn’t human and not a hybrid either, he’s full slime trying to live in a human world. Oh and fantasy racism/speciesism.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ENjoy!!

How was she expected to behave? As far as Pearl was concerned, she had every right to feel the emotions that were tightening her fists. He abandoned her, he pretended she didn’t exist, and everyone acted like it was her fault, like something was so deeply wrong that she couldn’t even hope to be forgiven. What had she done to deserve this? Anything she had done was just a desperate attempt to cope. But no, none of that mattered, none of those injustices compared to her supposed crimes. Apparently she wasn’t allowed to do anything.

Well, she was already too far to turn back anyway.