'Ix! Ix!'
Again, the voice from the closet crawled out from under its door and into Iximaz's ear, running down her spine like a spider down a waterslide.

She had been writing since last afternoon, and had done it through the night, through her breakfast, past her lunch, and into her next afternoon.

With her left hand, she was working on the latest PPC adventure of Zeb and the Aviator. With her right, she was writing about her new lighter and softer agent team (she was at the bit where the Earl gets his eyes plucked out,) and with her right foot, she was writing an essay on the emotional importance of rabid, unfounded shipping.

She was a little disappointed that she hadn't managed to teach her left foot to write, but nobody was perfect, right?

After having spent so much time working and writing and scribbling and essay-ing, she had simply concluded that she had gone insane.

'C'mon, Ix, you're not insane!'

Iximaz hmmed in consideration.

'I promise!'

She was convinced.

'Alright,' She said, looking up from her writing desk. 'What do you want?'

'Ix, please, sew us together!'

Iximaz paused.

'What?'

'Imagine, Ix. Imagine if you only needed one costume for all cosplay events.'

Iximaz imagined it.


'Are you sure about this?'

'Yes, Ix... Sew it on...'

Iximaz wasn't certain how she felt about the idea of a world in which Harry Potter wore a green cloak and had the bright yellowish muzzle of a cartoon pony, amongst other additions, and she was less certain about a world in which it was part of a costume she would have to wear or, at least, explain at some point.

'Okay, then,' She said.

'Yes, yes! Drive that needle in...'

Iximaz shuddered. She never knew her costumes could be so sultry.


It was another hour of sewing, moaning, and awkward coughing before it was over.

'Ix, Ix... Thank you.'

'How do you feel?'

'I-I feel,'

It was going to say hot and heavy. Iximaz knew it.

'Hot and heavy.'

Iximaz stared at the monstrosity she had created. An eldritch beast of pure, alien origin, the noisome product of a mind diseased and tainted by nothing but madness and hatred, the terrible beast she had made in a fit of passion and insanity.

'Well, that's good,' She mumbled, exiting the sewing room.