#cypherwrites

[scarred-keys]

There's a beautiful kind of fracture in realising that Grian - the guy with the most amount of Plot Armour - gravitates to those most often doomed by the narrative.

And it ends the same, every time.

[scarred-keys]

"The Curse" the watchers laugh. "Give us what we want"

Their laughter echoes through Jimmy's panicked mind, now acutely aware of how vulnerable he was, standing on that ledge next to the two he trusts most with his life.

Life - singular now, considering how low his timer was ticking.

Laughing, pushing the thought out of his mind he heaves, throwing the tnt minecart off the edge for a bit more time, just a bit more time.

And down the Canary goes.

Two phantom handprints, left on his back. A gentle push and a soft cackle in his ear "entertain us"

"serve your purpose"

And when the lightning strike marks his death, and the remaining bad boy's hearts seem to skip a beat in tandem, it takes all of Grian's willpower to not look up and stare into the abyssal eyes of what he used to be.

[scarred-keys]

LIFESMPMAFIA: Geminitay (TW for injuries, some self-harm ish themes, and general pain all around)

“Trial by fire”

Every time Gem opens her eyes, she reminds herself where she is.

The world seems to rush in on her, pushing through her eyes and into her bones where the terror of every morning stays and festers - she’s sure she bleeds fear. Sun-soaked and warm, she’d entered this world glancing at those more familiar with the bloody games for guidance, but who was there to help her now? The clouds had overtaken her North Star on day one, and she was left wandering directionless in the dark.

She’d become their star - she vowed. What was the sun if not a glorified star, and who was Gem if not Alice looking for a ledge to hold on to, falling through a rabbit hole of self-hate. But there was no time for that now, with False and her past, and Tango and his heartbreak, and Pearl and her guilt, and False and her wings, and Tango and his broken memories, and Pearl and her need for control, and False and her self-sacrificing, and Tango and his guilt, and Pearl and her anger and-

The soup was burning.

Rushing to the stove and switching it off in a haste, Gem hissed at her wandering thoughts, pleading they’d listen to her and focus on the task at hand. It seemed the only time her mind would temporarily glue it’s fractured pieces together was in times of crisis or in the dead of night, plaguing her with memories of a life just out of her reach. She whispered to herself “False is healing on the couch. Tango is taking a shower. Pearl is safe in her room. False is heal-” a mantra, her lifeline, the only thing keeping the darkness creeping along her vision at bay.

~~~~~~

Tango had gone up to his room, upset, False was on the couch, Pearl was still in her room, and the soup was cold. Gem was cold too, a once-foreign feeling now becoming comfortable with it’s numbness, sitting on the stairs and wishing her breath would steady itself. Her mind had broken it’s self imposed barriers now, getting into dangerous territory, speculating the return of the Red King while she sat frozen still, eyes unfocused and heart racing. Would he come for her? He’d mentioned something about a connection, about Ren being trapped within but she was sure-

“….Gem?”

Tango’s voice whispered in the dark, giving Gem a brief respite. She needed to speak, to air her fear of the Red King and rid herself of the poison before it killed her from the inside out. Words from her mind had travelled to her throat, blocking it up and merging into a bloody wail of terror she had yet to let out, but all she said was “Oh hey Tango - are you doing okay?”

The words in her throat burned.

~~~~~

Gem had seen the others bleed before. Their words and fears flowed as easily as their golden ichor did, sacred life force draining and soaking the dirt the longer the games went on, sacrificed to a higher power they had the misfortune becoming puppets for. Unfortunately for her, Gem did not bleed ichor. Her blood flowed dark red - a by-product, something irritating to wash off and time consuming to take care of. She didn’t have the time to bleed - she burnt her hands on the soup pot, broke potion bottles of glass, dug her nails into her palms till they had permanent indents of crescent moons and pressed her palms into her eyes till she saw stars - the only stars that had yet to leave her alone in the dark.

Her memories were logs of firewood intermittently added to the furnace in her fractured mind, each movement punctuated with her molten glass self dipping into the flames, pushing and pulling constantly to reshape.

Tears stung her eyes and iron flooded her mouth from keeping the choked gasps at bay, but there would be time for pain later - her communicator had pinged with a message, and Gem was needed once more.

[scarred-keys]

A little introduction to me:

• My name's Cypher (they/them), and I make art/write stuff at the cost of my sanity <3

• always up for taking ideas/prompts/talking about brainrots and people's headcannons 🫶🏽🫶🏽 (just drop them in the submission box!!)

Commissions are always open, DM me for more info!

• the stuff I make is 100% dependant on my hyperfixations I literally have no control 💪

• All art is tagged under #cypherdraws, written work is under #cypherwrites, and dnd related stuff is under #cypherrolls