#yogfic

(I have once again archived lost media no one cares about)

Linked here is an Archive.org upload of all of the Yogscast fics listed in the Ao3 Final Location reserve. (This is a multi-gigabyte database that has archived millions of fics, many of which are now lost media.)

I have done the due diligence of sorting through, downloading, and reuploading all of the Yogscast-related ones to its own listing on Archive.org for ease of access. Currently it includes ~3200 fics from 2012-2021, I will be adding more recent fics later.

To access go to Download Options > Show All > /Downloads. In that folder there are several other folders each containing varying numbers of fics depending on how many were in the original Final Location folders. The smaller the number of the folder, the older the fics contained.

The files are not very well organized, but each .txt file is labelled with the fic’s title and author, which can be used as identification. The individual files also include all of the raw data about the fic that can be used to identify specific ones. I found it easiest to scroll through the files after downloading them with the preview open so the descriptions are visible.

i first discovered you, and the rise and fall series, back when the dead land was early in being posted. right now, i've just come away from finishing a re-read.

as someone who writes myself, i understand how complicated the relationship with old works can get (and traf, at this point, is old. which makes us…?) but i still want to tell you that i think about traf at least once a year. the weave you made of the very loose lore of "canon" remains impressive. the relationships are gloriously uncomfortable. the portrayal of rythian is, of course, a stand-out!

so many years later, xephos, for the bit he's around, is so compelling to me. it's sticking to me how the first thing he does—after waking up with his self-fulfilling prophecy wiped from his memory—is freak the fuck out. and him freaking the fuck out gets honeydew to comfort him, and he accepts this comfort, at which point honeydew weeps, "i missed you."

what a goddamn ending to the World-Endingly Dysfunctional Relationships Series. the world if xeph just had a panic attack instead.

(i also loved powered-the-fanfic a great deal. massive congrats on getting published!)

OUGH gosh thank you so much for such a kind comment!!

TRAF is definitely flawed, but it also holds a special place in my heart. It was, at the time, my most ambitious undertaking ever, and the fact that I managed to pull it off bolstered my confidence in taking on even more ambitious ideas (like Powered!). It's my first story I remember as having a distinctive shape; when I think about TRAF, conceptually, it looks like a circle. I only wish I could construct the series on AO3 the same way, so that you could start at any point and loop through.

Funny that you mention Honeydew... when I was writing it, I found his chapters a slog to write. The last time I reread it, though, many years after the fact, they were my favorites to read!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Yogscast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Lewis Brindley | Xephos/Duncan Jones | Lalna Characters: Duncan Jones | Lalna, Lalnable Hector, Kim Richards | NanoSounds, Specimen 5 (Yogscast), Lewis Brindley | Xephos Additional Tags: Yoglabs Setting, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Violent Thoughts, Not Beta Read, Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Hurt No Comfort Series: Part 5 of Yogtober 2025 Summary:

Yoglabs is raided, and it doesn't end well

Xephos hasn't moved from his place at the sink for a good five minutes now. It's been long enough that Honeydew is actually starting to worry - preening bugger that he is, Xeph is usually doing something at the mirror, applying whatever anti-wrinkle serum is in that month. But currently he's just… standing. Staring. He doesn't appear to have noticed the audience.

“Um. You good there, pal?”

No shift in position, but the eyes in the mirror track down and left. “Mm.” Xephos sighs. “Thinking.”

“Had to start eventually,” Honeydew jokes, and is gratified to get a small huff of amusement in response. And Xephos finally steps away, revealing a tight fist of hair in his right hand. Everything clicks. “Oh, pal.”

“I’m getting old.”

“36 ain't old.”

“Have you seen my greys?” Xephos’ tone takes on a hysterical edge. “I'm going bald and grey, Honeydew. At the same time!”

“It's because you're always stressin’. How many times have I told ye to take a holiday? But no, gotta sit in front of a computer, spreadsheets spreadsheets…”

Xephos rolls his eyes, stalks over to the pedal bin, and unceremoniously dumps the hair into it. He is right though - Honeydew notices, almost with a shock, that his brown hair is tinged with grey, and less full than it had once been. They've been seeing less of each other, recently. Changes in appearance always seem so much starker than they once did. Honeydew takes the opportunity to rib Xephos about it for the rest of the day, and wins some of those old chuckles that he enjoys so much.

-

The next morning, Xephos walks into the break room with a smile.

Honeydew scowls.

“No need to look so sour, friend.”

“I cannot believe you,” Honeydew grumbles. “Yer the height of vanity.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Don't know what I mean!” He's yelping now, hands slamming on the table. “You killed yourself for a fresh head o’ hair, that's what I mean! If you wanted a new clone you could have put yourself in one of our experiments, you bastard - “

A little mollified, Xephos runs his fingers through his fresh, non-greying coif and gives a sheepish grin. “I was just being efficient. And - look, it wasn't just the hair -”

“Unbelievable. You're unbelievable.”

“Ah, you love me.”

the muted voices of his new travel companions fade, blend, then shift into a swirl that drags him into dreams. lilts turn scottish, masculine, and the scent in his nose becomes wooden and inky.

he stumbles his way through doors until he mercifully finds himself on a stool, hears the click-click-click of a lever from behind him.

the tv above the bar winks at him.

writing a little bit of fic for some of the various botc setting headcanons i've seen floating around - if you have a setting you'd like to see explored do share!

tw: mild gore

Xephos stares at his translucent hands, the memory of his blood bubbling in his throat as he tries to breathe through a slit trachea still rattling around in his head. Again. He’s here again. Dead again. 

He takes a shuddering breath - not that he needs to. The theatre of it all, play acting life, grounds him. His body lays before him, bleeding slowed to a steady drip now his heart has stopped beating. His blood glows like Cherenkov radiation, but only half as deadly. He can hear the rest of the townsfolk awaken. They do not remember him. 

Well, they do. They remember the him of yesterday, they remember their Xephos. He is no longer that man. He wishes he was. Maybe then -

It doesn’t matter. He still tries to open the door, a reflex a dozen deaths have not robbed him of, and feels the same sinking sensation in his gut as his palm phases through the door handle. It. Doesn’t. Matter. 

He walks through the still closed door. The demon always locked it behind themselves. He should be grateful they never saw his body, really. There was always a more pressing concern than his slowly decaying corpse. The glow of his own blood would fade in a half-day as the enzymes ran out of ATP, without a body to give them more. He’d be left in the dark, then. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. They had a demon to kill. 

It always changed. It was always a friend. He never caught their face when they killed him. He didn’t want them dead. It had been Lalna, once. That had been - rough. He’d been glad to wake up that next loop, blood bubbling hot and sticky into his lungs.

13 loops so far - almost 4 months of this. He - he needed to save everyone. He needed the demon dead on the first night, he was sure. He was tired of doing their bidding, their dirty work. Dead by their hands and forced to create himself company in ghosthood.

They never had to kill. He wasn’t jealous, that they got to live each loop unsullied by their friend’s blood on their hands. If he could take the stain of it all onto himself, he’d do so. He just - he wanted a single night. Just a day where he didn’t have to see the life leave a friend’s eyes. A day where he wasn’t a puppet dancing on something else’s string. 

A day where he could just think - come on think Xephos what are you missing -

The bell tolled. He had a story to tell. He walked down the path, ignoring the swooping feeling when none of his steps truly struck the cobbled roads, ignoring the fact he couldn’t feel the sun on his skin or the breeze through his hair. Ignoring the fact he wouldn’t be able to save them all again, that he’d have to do this all again, because he couldn’t think through the panic or the pain or the numbing grief long enough.

He breathed through it. His chest rose and fell in a mimicry of life. 

The town square began to fill. He stepped off the path and into the light to a familiar chorus of screams.

SURPRISE!

Slay the Princess + Yogscast AU fic: I'll have to cut myself in two.