#(like when u use her mid and lower range she sounds like straight up a PERSON its nuts)

[bmpmp3]

hold on. hold on im shifting into vocaloid mode. hold on

[suddencolds]

different anon here but omg im so happy you made a kaeya/albedo drabble.. could you write up a pt 2 where kaeya catches his cold? doesnt have to be long, anything would do if youd be so kind

😭 anon... please, have mercy. Reversed roles are my absolute ~weakness~, so just this once, I am here to deliver a fic that I didn’t spend like 300 years writing. (Thanks for the excuse to write these two!!)

[part 1] 

—

A few days pass before he sees Kaeya again.

Albedo is only at the headquarters to ask Lisa if she has any books on the medicinal uses of Liyue specialties. The meeting is a coincidence, all things considered. Kaeya is leading a group of Knights—new recruits, Albedo thinks, because he’s pretty sure those are new faces—back into the main hall.

“Captain,” one of the recruits is saying. “I’m sorry about today. I’ll do better next time.”

“Struggling with training?” Kaeya asks. “I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“I wasn’t. I just… I should have been able to dodge. Back up in Starfell Valley, when that hilichurl fired. It wasn’t hidden or anything, but I didn’t notice.”

Kaeya shakes his head. “It’s a lot to think about, right? That’s one of the tricky things about fighting with a close-range weapon. It’s not a bad thing to pay attention to whomever you’re clashing swords with. Just don’t forget to keep an eye out for enemies that are further out.”

“Got it,” the recruit says, solemn.

“Your swordsmanship has improved, though.” Kaeya adds, “I can tell you practiced. The new sword suits you.”

The recruit brightens visibly. “Thanks a lot, Captain.”

It’s not surprising, really—Kaeya has a strange talent for saying the right thing at the right time. He’s patient, too, and good at strategizing; all things considered, Albedo can’t think of someone more qualified to be training the Knights.

But Albedo isn’t here to watch. It just looks like their group is about to adjourn, and he figures he should really thank Kaeya for his help a few days ago—Kaeya is a fast learner, and an even better conversation partner. Had it not been for him, Albedo knows he would’ve been up on Dragonspine for much longer.

Currently, Kaeya is turning to address the entire group. He still hasn’t noticed Albedo’s presence, it seems.

“Great work today,” He says, then launches into a speech about strategy. It’s not a notable incident—or, it shouldn’t be—except the more he talks, the more Albedo can tell how tired he is. It’s subtle. It’s Kaeya—of course it’s subtle. But his posture looks deceptively casual—really, it looks like it’s taking all of his energy to keep himself presentable—and mid-speech, he’s actually stifling a yawn. His voice sounds slightly off, too, perhaps from overuse.

They’re all busy, Albedo knows. But he feels guilty nonetheless. He knows it had been Kaeya’s decision to help him, but still—perhaps it hadn’t been the best choice, seeing how much he still has to do.

“Captain Kaeya,” one of the other recruits interjects, after Kaeya finishes his speech. Most of the other Knights have already started to leave. “If you are free later, could I stay late to train with you today?”

And Kaeya—

—Kaeya, for some reason, hesitates. He shuts his eyes for just a second, as if he’s at war with himself, before he opens them again. This time, his smile is a little less effortless, a little more strained. “Of course. I need to get some paperwork filled out first, but I’ll meet you after.”

“Alright, thanks! I’ll wait for you outside?”

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

The recruit—oblivious to the fact that something’s wrong—turns to head towards the exit. Kaeya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed. He really looks exhausted.

Albedo wants to call out to him. He’ll say thanks, and then he’ll get out of Kaeya’s way. But then Kaeya starts off towards Jean’s office—to pick up paperwork, presumably—and stops halfway down the hall, tensing, one hand hovering over his face—

“hiiH… hiiH’ESSCH’ew!”

It sounds… rough, and tired, as if he’s been doing that all day. He sniffles, shivering, and continues walking, and Albedo knows.

He feels bad immediately. Kaeya had been kind enough to help out—of course he had, he’s selfless like that—even though he must have been busy. Meanwhile, Albedo hadn’t thought to tell him to sit further away, hadn’t been careful enough about not touching what he’d touched, hadn’t stepped away when Kaeya had insisted on walking back with him, hadn’t protested when Kaeya had lent him his scarf for the walk back through Dragonspine’s freezing weather…

...All things considered, this is most certainly Albedo’s fault.

—

“I got it, Jean,” Kaeya says, taking the pile of paperwork from her desk.

“Take it easy,” she says. “You should go straight home after this.”

Kaeya smiles tiredly at her. “Oh? I thought you didn’t want me slacking off. I can do more today, really.”

Jean rolls her eyes. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing. Please, for the love of Barbatos, get some rest.”

Kaeya can’t say he feels very differently than Jean says he looks. Still, even if Jean won’t ask him to stick around, the new recruits will—he likes them, but they’re still new to combat, which makes things harder on him. In between scouting domains, looking out for the younger knights, and trying to cover for the mistakes they make, perhaps he’s pushed himself just a bit.

“It’s just a cold,” he says, turning as far away from her as possible to cough into his elbow. “No one’s ever taken off work for a cold.”

“For now it is,” Jean says. “I don’t want it to turn into something worse because you won’t rest.”

“It won’t. It’s just paperwork, right? I could do that in my sleep.” And one-on-one training with a recruit. And after that, another meeting with the Knights, and a domain East of here to scout out on his own, but Jean can find out about that later when she’s reading his reports.

It’s very unfortunate that he has to sneeze.

He takes another step away from her, lifting his hand to cover.

“hiIH’EESCH’-ew!” he winces. The sneeze is loud, and it sounds almost as miserable as he feels, which means it feels far too transparent. “Hiih… hIIH… snf… hiiih’IiDDZScsh’ew! hIIIH’EZSCHh’-iu! ugh… snf…”

“Bless you,” Jean says, sighing as she passes him the tissue box on her desk. He takes a generous handful of them and before handing it back. “You sound awful.”

Kaeya laughs, pocketing the tissues. “You never fail to flatter me, Acting Grandmaster.”

“Forgive me for being worried,” Jean says flatly. “At least tell me you’ll take care of yourself.” “Of course. When do I not?”

She gives him a significant look, which is fair.

He takes the chance to leave her office. His head hurts, more than it would if he’d just had a bit too much to drink, and it’s the kind of headache that he knows is going to get much, much worse if he doesn’t take it easy. Maybe if he rushes, he can get the paperwork done before then.

The recruit he’d spoken to is waiting for him outside, he recalls. He rubs his nose, shivering, and heads for the door.

Someone is waiting for him, but it’s not the person he expects.

Kaeya musters the energy to smile. “Albedo! Did you need something?” He probably shouldn’t be taking on additional responsibilities after Jean’s already told him to take him easy, but then again, this is Albedo—whatever he needs, it must be  worth staying late for.

“I just happened to be stopping by,” Albedo starts. “I, err, wanted to ask Lisa about my research.”

“I take it that you didn’t find what you needed?”

“I did.” “Is that so?” Kaeya says, faltering—if that’s the case, he’s not sure why Albedo is still here. “Were you waiting for me, then?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, except Albedo hesitates, and Kaeya feels bad for suggesting it.

“Actually, I was,” Albedo says, which is a surprise.

Kaeya’s breath has gone unsteady again, and he rubs his nose, sniffling. Albedo, who seems not to have noticed, keeps talking.

“I wanted to tell you—”

Kaeya doesn’t want to interrupt, but colds tend to make his sneezes so jarringly unavoidable. He turns away, lifting up a hand to shield his face. “Hiiih… hiih’EESCHh’ew!” He gasps, and with a muffled sniffle, presses his hand closer to his face. “HIIH… hiiIH’IIZSCHH-uu! hIIIH’NGKT-Sshew! snf…!”

—His shoulders untense as he finally lowers his hand, fishing through his pocket for tissues. How embarrassing, he thinks, blowing his nose as softly as he can. He doesn’t exactly want to look over to Albedo to see the expression on his face—disgust, probably, or worse, pity—

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says instead.

Kaeya’s glance snaps upwards in surprise. “What?” “I was hoping you wouldn’t catch this,” he frowns, looking away. “I wasn’t careful enough. I did not intend for you to feel miserable because of me.”

What is that supposed to mean? “This isn’t because of you.”

“Captain,” Albedo starts, completely serious. “Whose cold do you think you have?”

Kaeya blinks. It’s true—he’s probably caught this from Albedo, given that he can’t think of anyone else who’s been sick lately—but that doesn’t mean that Albedo should feel guilty over it. “Colds spread. It happens, it’s not your fault.”

“I should have been more careful,” Albedo shakes his head dejectedly. “Or perhaps I should not have accepted your help at all when you offered to stay. I knew you must have had a lot of work. It was selfish of me.”

“I told you, I wanted to help,” Kaeya insists.

Albedo sighs. “You are selfless to the extent that it is detrimental sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sent the recruit home, by the way. Really, you couldn’t have told him to wait a couple days?”

“He asked for my help.” Kaeya holds a hand up, veering away again. “I wasn’t going to deny him just because of… a… hiIH… c-cold… HIIih’EESSCHh’ew! HIIIH’GKTt!-shew!” His head throbs in protest, and he sniffles, tilting his head upwards, a fresh tissue in hand, in ticklish anticipation. “hiIIH… hiIIH’IIIZZSCH’ew!”

It takes everything in him not to slump against the wall.

“Bless you,” Albedo says. “You sound—”

“—awful?” He lowers the tissue with a laugh. “I know. Jean informed me.”

“I was going to say tired,” Albedo says, shifting forward to feel Kaeya’s forehead. His hand shifts to Kaeya’s cheek, studying him with a look of such intense concentration, Kaeya tries not to smile. “I don’t think you have a fever, but you’re warm. Allow me to walk you home?”

As enticing as the offer sounds, he shouldn’t. Everyone else is working hard—he knows if he does less work than usual, it will be Jean and Amber picking up the slack, which is the last thing he wants. “I still have lots to do.”

“It can wait until you’re well. The Knights will survive if you take a day off.” Albedo drops his hand, but he’s still looking at Kaeya with the same intensity. “I will talk to Jean, if it’s an issue.”

“Please don’t talk to Jean,” Kaeya says sheepishly. He’s sure she wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find out about his plans to stay and work late.

Albedo raises an eyebrow. “Will you listen to me, then?”

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all—he can head home, sleep this headache away, and come back in the evening. “Well,” he starts. “If… hiIIH… hiiIH’ESSCH’ew! snf-! If you insist…”

“I do.”

“...I guess I could head home early.”

It’s worth it, for the way Albedo smiles softly in response. He looks... relieved, Kaeya realizes, which is strange, too—he hadn’t expected Albedo to be so worried about him.

Kaeya starts off in the direction of his house. It’s not a long walk from the headquarters—certainly closer than the manor was, back when he’d lived there. Admittedly, it’s lonelier sometimes, living on his own.

Unexpectedly, Albedo follows him.

“You’re really walking me back,” Kaeya says, slightly disbelieving.

“Yes,” Albedo says. “Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

“It’s nice.” Kaeya sniffles, stifling a cough into a raised hand. “I hope you’re not just doing this because you feel bad about this.”

Albedo hums. “I’m not. I am quite free this afternoon, thanks to your help. I do feel bad, though.”

“Doing alchemy with you was the most exciting part of my week,” Kaeya says honestly, flashing him a grin. “I’d say it was worth catching a cold over.”

Albedo stares back at him. Then he smiles back, so brightly that Kaeya feels warmer, just looking at him. “You could come visit more often, then. I enjoy having company if it’s you.”

[terapsina]

5 Times Monica and Her Mom Have Difficult Conversations About Auntie Carol (+1 Time She Plans A Parent Trap With Her Skrull Friend)

----            ao3 ----  1 ----

When Monica is five years old, her mom and Auntie Carol don’t come home in time for dinner.

This is unusual, they’re always home in time for dinner. But that day they aren’t. 

She’d known something was weird before that, when the phone rang while she was playing Planes and Pilots with her bears Bessie and Jerrie, and Grandma almost dropped the phone and then pulled the cord until she could talk from the other side of the door. But it wasn’t anything that was important.

She’d thought so at first anyway.

But when Monica starts asking for cookies Grandma actually gives them to her instead of making her wait until she’s eaten her lunch. And then she doesn’t start getting ready for her mom and auntie to come home. And then Grandpa comes over to watch her too, and that only ever happens when Mom and Auntie Carol have to work on Sundays.

By then something has started clawing inside Monica, it feels like there’s a cat trapped in her stomach and trying to scratch everything in its sight. Grandma and Grandpa are so quiet.

She spends almost the whole evening just trying to draw but none of the colors look right and even though she’s big now, there’s frustrated tears at the edges of her eyes that she’s holding back by sheer stubbornness.

By the time the front doors finally open, Monica’s eyelids are beginning to grow heavy and her head is tucked into Grandma’s lap. She shoots up straight and is off the couch like a rocket before those doors get a chance to close.

“Mom!” Monica exclaims as she rushes into the hallway but stops short at the sight of her mom.

There’s tear tracks on her mom’s cheeks and she’s clutching at the wall like she’ll fall if she lets go. And she’s all alone.

“Mom?” She asks, suddenly so scared she doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, honey.” Mom says, voice hoarse, and drops to her knees in front of Monica. She smiles at her, but it’s small and weak and only makes Monica more scared. “Let me talk to Grandma and Grandpa for a minute, and then- then I have to tell you something. Okay?”

“Where’s Auntie Carol?” Monica says in response, the claws inside her stomach getting sharper.

“Just a minute. Okay?” Her mom says again and leads her up to Monica’s room, sitting her down on her bed. She kisses her forehead and whispers into her hair before she leaves. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She says back because that’s what she and Auntie Carol always do, and because it’s true.

Then she grabs Amelia from her pillow and clenches the bear against her chest. Waiting for Mom to come back. It feels like forever before she finally does.

And then her mom sits in her bed and pulls Monica and Amelia into her arms.

She knows this means it's going to be a 'serious conversation' - just like the time when Mom told her about how she couldn't tell her friends that Auntie Carol lived in the same room as Mom because some grownups could be really mean about it, even though there was nothing wrong with that. Monica knew that anyway though, the moms and dads of her friends had the same rooms too, and though Monica didn't have a dad she had Auntie Carol, which was the same thing.

"There was an accident." Her mom says, her hands running slowly and soothingly over Monica’s braided hair.

"What kind of accident?" Monica asks, pulling Amelia so close to her chest that her nose dug into her shoulder.

"Auntie Carol's plane crashed and we can't find her." Mom says and starts rocking her in her lap. Monica’s lower lip trembles and she smushes her face into Amelia’s fur to hide it.

"But... you will, right?" She says, voice tiny and quivering, and she doesn’t feel very big at all anymore.

"I don't know, baby," Mom says and squeezes her tighter "I hope so."

Monica looks up to her mom and bursts into tears as soon as she has, her mom is already crying, eyes staring forward out the window and into nothing. She looks just as scared as Monica feels, and something about that is so very wrong Monica has no words for it. Just the inherent certainty that Mom isn’t supposed to be scared.

She falls asleep in her mom's arms that night, doesn’t remember if she ever stopped crying, just remembers feeling her Auntie Carol's absence like a cold river-stone in her chest and somehow knowing there's a stone just like it in her mom's chest too.

----  2 ----

Monica is eight years old and Auntie Carol has been missing for three years. There was a funeral not that long after the day of the accident but her mom doesn’t really believe that Auntie Carol is dead, Monica can tell because she doesn’t believe either.

She's heard her mom and grandmother fighting about it sometimes, because Grandma can tell too and she does believe that Auntie Carol's really gone. Monica doesn't like it when they fight about it, she's afraid that one day Grandma will win and her mom will start believing it too.

She doesn’t know what wakes her up that night. But when she opens her eyes, the windows are dark. After blinking the sleep from her eyes though Monica grows thirsty and carefully gets up from her bed, pushing her feet into her fluffy panda slippers.

Halfway down the steps though she hears her mom’s voice. She sounds upset so Monica stops to listen.

"Where the hell are you Carol?" Mom says and Monica’s heart starts running in her chest. She slowly takes the last few steps down, avoiding the creaky one by grabbing hold of the railing and very carefully skipping it.

She sneaks a look into the living room and her heart falls with a painful swoop at finding her mom alone.

"I heard your voice. I know I did. I didn't imagine it no matter how much those badge wearing bastards try to tell me otherwise. You were fine after the crash, so where did you go." Mom’s pacing back and forth through the room, eyes toward the ceiling, like that’s where Auntie Carol’s hiding in.

"My mother's been trying to get me to let you go. Yes, I know what you'd say: 'She never liked me, Maria.' And you're wrong, she liked you fine... eventually."

Grandma didn’t like Auntie Carol?

"Maybe... maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop waiting for you to show up like some kind of gift from heaven." She says, sounding frustrated now.

Monica has to bite her lip to stop herself from yelling that Mom couldn’t do that.

"Wherever it is you are, it's not here. And it doesn't look like you're in any particular hurry to come back." Her mom says, and she sounds mad now, but also sad, like she did when Monica spilled ketchup on Auntie Carol’s favorite jacket after she took it without asking permission.

"Where the f-" her mom starts saying but stops mid word as she finally seems to catch sight of her. "Monica?"

Monica steps out of her hiding place, feeling a bit guilty, she knows it’s rude to spy on grownups. But then she remembers what Mom had just been saying and that overcomes the little niggle of guilt. "You're angry at Auntie Carol."

"No, baby. I'm not." Mom tells her, dropping to her knees in front of her.

"You sound angry.” Monica argues and then flinches as a terrible thought crosses her mind. “Do you- do you think she left us on purpose?"

"Of course not. She loved us, you know that." Mom says and her eyes are as wide and honest as ever, so she knows that her mom isn’t lying to make her feel better.

But that just makes it more confusing.

"Then why are you mad?" She asks, not understanding.

"Sometimes it hurts less when we're mad." Her mom says very quietly and wipes away a tear from Monica’s cheek. She hadn’t even noticed she’d started crying.

She looks down and starts playing with the sleeves of her pajamas, it makes it easier to say something she’s never told anyone before. “Sometimes I’m mad at her too.” 

“And that’s okay. It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t mean we love her any less, do you understand?”

Monica nods, even though she doesn’t really.

“Did you come down here for something, baby?” Mom asks after Monica doesn’t say anything more.

“I was thirsty.” Monica says through a sudden hiccup. She hates them, they always show up when she gets upset. 

“Let’s get you a glass of warm milk then, okay?” Mom offers and wipes more tears from Monica’s face.

“Yeah.” Monica nods and lets her mom pull her up into a lingering hug, feels it as she starts drawing little circles over her back while they move toward the kitchen. It makes some of the lingering pain of thinking about Auntie Carol leach out of her but some of it remains, some of it hasn’t really ever gone away.

----  3 ----

Monica is ten years old. And lately she’s started to think about something that never seemed like it mattered before but now doesn’t feel quite right. She’s thought about it so much that it finally feels like she’ll burst if she doesn’t ask her mom about it.

"Hey, Mom? I have a question about Auntie Carol." Monica says after she stops in front of her and sits down on the opposite side of Mom’s work table.

They’re in the little hanger near the house. Her mom’s busy working on what looks like a faulty injection pump.

"What is it, baby?" She asks and looks around for a different tool when hers proves too big to ply open the metal covering. Monica passes her the smaller one that’s on her side of the table. “Thank you, honey.”

"Why do we call her Auntie when... when she was... more?" Monica says, jumping straight to the point.

Her mom puts down the broken engine part and the tool she’d just given her, and looks at Monica. Then she lets out a long breath and seems to be steeling herself for the conversation.

Monica doesn’t let herself fidget. She’s not going to be nervous about this, if she doesn’t look like she can handle the answer her mom might decide to tell her she’s too young to understand. 

"You loved her." She instead says, continuing to her next point in her mental list of reasons for why something isn’t quite right.

"Of course I did." Mom says but her face tells Monica she’s taking her question seriously.

"And she lived with us. And she made us breakfast because she always woke up so early, and she used to kiss you sometimes, and we were a family. And it doesn't... feel like my aunt is gone.” It’s the truth, because she thinks about her as Auntie Carol, but she's never thought of her as her aunt. Not the way other kids have talked about their aunts and uncles anyway, even though some of them live at the same house as them, just like Auntie Carol used to live with her and Mom. “Laila's aunt left for Minnesota and it doesn't hurt her like it hurts when I think about Auntie Carol. It hurts like it hurt Johnny when his mom died last summer."

"That's because we were raising you together." Mom says but it sounds like an excuse.

"Like parents do. So shouldn't she have been Mama Carol? Why didn't I use to call her that?" She says, trying to drive her point home.

Her mom sighs and gets up to pull her bench to Monica’s side of the table. Then she sits down and takes Monica’s hands into her own.

"Because people can be really cruel." Mom tells her, eyes staring straight into Monica’s. "You remember that talk we had about how you should always tell me if one of your teachers is particularly harsh on you, Laila, Gabriel, Angel and Jordan but not the rest of your class?"

"Because we're black and they're not allowed to do that?" She asks, a low-burning flame igniting in her chest at remembering the conversation Mom’s referring to. The one her mom has had with her more then once because she always says it’s important to have it fresh in her memory.

"Yes, well sometimes there are people who hate us for who we choose to love, like there are people who hate us for the color of our skin.” Here she picks up her smaller hand and pointedly kisses it like she always does during those talks, she says it’s a reminded that Monica’s beautiful and that no one is allowed to make her think otherwise. “And no matter how much we'd like to punch them all in the face, and no matter how much they would deserve it, sometimes when we have something to protect, it's safer to not step in front of those people in the first place."

“What did you have to protect?” She asks, not wanting to but beginning to understand.

“You. Our jobs. Each other.” Mom says with a sad smile that makes Monica feel like maybe she shouldn’t have asked in the first place. She hates making Mom sad.

“Oh.” She says and thinks about this for a moment, feels herself grow angry at yet another unjust thing. “Well, it’s not fair, we shouldn’t have to lie about how much she means to us just because people are stupid.”

“You’re right, baby, it’s really not fair at all.” Her mom says and squeezes her hands between her palms. It’s like being reassured but Monica doesn’t want to be reassured.

She pulls back to jump to her feet and clenches her hands into fists. The flickering flame inside her has been fed a little bit more fuel.

“And you said we should always stand up for ourselves because other people won’t, so isn’t that true here too?” She says, knowing she’s right, knowing her mom agrees, and still knowing that there’s very little she can do about it right now anyway.

“I wish it was that easy, Monica.”

----  4 ----

Monica is eleven, and yesterday Auntie Carol came home. Monica and Mom had been right, she hadn’t died and she didn’t leave them on purpose.

It’s been a day since then and so much has happened. Mom and Auntie Carol are heroes, they saved a spaceship full of people  - they were aliens but they were also people. She’s already prepared to argue with anyone who would say otherwise, even though she knows this is a secret and that there’s no one else who knows.

One of them is her new friend. Her name is Talia, she’s shy but really nice, Monica’s going to miss her.

She’s going to miss Auntie Carol too. That shouldn’t feel like a new absence, she’s been missing her for so long now after all. But somehow the sting is fresh. Even though she’s so proud of her.

They said goodbye to her half an hour ago but Monica and her mom are still sitting on their porch and looking up at the stars, staring at them like if they try hard enough she’ll still be up there looking back. It’s here that Monica finally pulls together the courage to ask the question that has been bothering her for the past two days.

“Why didn’t you tell her, Mom?” She asks, turning her face sideways to look at her.

“What’s that, baby?” She asks, voice sounding far away even coming from right beside her. Monica’s pretty sure it’s somewhere up in the sky with both their hearts.

“You didn’t tell Auntie Carol that you loved her. And that she loved you.” Monica isn’t going to let this go, they’d gotten her back. She won’t let them lose her when there’s so easy a way for them to keep her.

“She doesn’t remember it, honey.”

Monica continues staring at her mom, her mom continues looking up.

“So? You could have reminded her. And she remembered that I was Lieutenant Trouble.” She says and feels a smile crossing her face again, Auntie Carol remembers her. Even if it’s just that one memory, it’s one Monica shares with her and somehow that’s all that matters.

“I know. But... it would have made it harder, and it would have meant making her choose and it wouldn’t have been fair to do that. Talos and his people need her right now.” Mom says, finally looking down and tucking Monica against her side.

“But she left us that communicator, Mom. We’ll be able to talk to her now, and she said she’d visit.” Monica says, pleading for her mom to change her mind about this.

“And I’m sure she’s going to. But you can’t tell someone they love you, they have to figure that out on their own or it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“But-” 

“It’s late, baby, you should get ready for bed,” She says, standing up and reaching out to pull Monica to her feet too.

Monica lets Mom take her hand but doesn’t let her drop the conversation. “I think she does though. Love us.” 

“Monica-”

“She looked at you just like she did in that photo you took out before we showed her the rest of them.” Mom looks surprised, like she’d thought Monica hadn’t noticed. She had though, and once they started going through them, Monica knew which one she’d taken. It was the one where there were just inches between Mom and Auntie Carol’s faces and both of them were visibly laughing at something. But there was also a strange look on Auntie Carol’s face, like she was completely spellbound by Monica’s mom. “So I think you should tell her.”

Her mom just shakes her head and goes on the offensive, starting to tickle her till Monica yells at her to stop through her uncontrollable giggles.

“To bed with you, Lieutenant Trouble.” Her mom says with amusement.

Monica finally listens. She doesn’t admit defeat though, she just needs to think of a new strategy.

----  5 ----

Auntie Carol does call them. She calls them almost every night around dinnertime. And when she hasn’t she always tells them why later, sometimes she even retells the coolest parts of whatever fight had happened. Monica’s pretty sure she skips a lot of the more gnarly details to not make Mom mad though.

But during the nights when Auntie Carol calls on time, Monica pays close attention to how she and Mom interact during them.

By this point Monica’s pretty sure she has conclusive evidence that she was right. Auntie Carol might not remember how it was before, and if Monica’s honest there’s a lot she doesn’t remember either - she was only five after all, - but she’s sure that however it was then, it’s a lot like that now too.

They smile at each other and joke with each other, dryly and occasionally through sarcasm but Monica’s well aware that those are her mom’s favorite modes of humor. And whenever Mom isn’t looking at her, Auntie Carol’s smiles turn all sappy and soft.

Auntie Carol loves Mom, it isn’t even a question.

Besides, there’s also the way she’s started to say goodbye when it’s time to cut off the call.

“Love you, Trouble, Maria.” Auntie Carol says with a smile for Monica that she knows is honest but also only half the story. Because then, like gravity, her eyes would always flicker toward her mom.

And yes, Monica has noticed how Auntie Carol always puts her first. Like a barrier between the sentiment and the other person it’s being directed at. Her moms are impossible - she’s started sometimes to think of Auntie Carol like that, as the second of her two moms, if only inside the safety of her own mind.

“Love you too, Captain.” Monica says and turns significantly towards her mom.

“Goodnight, Carol.” Mom says instead as the hologram flickers off, leaving them alone a second later. It was still enough time for Monica to see that brief half a heartbeat where Auntie Carol’s smile fell a bit.

She glares at her mom. Mom, as is starting to become her habit, pretends not to notice it and stands up to take the empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Grab your plate, honey.” Mom just says, already by the doorway.

Monica does and then stomps off after her.

“You’re supposed to say it back.” Monica says, losing her patience. It’s been happening for months now, this weird thing where they almost say something and then never actually do.

“We’ve talked about this, Monica.” Mom says, placing her stack of dishes in the sink and then taking the ones from Monica.

“No. you said that Auntie Carol had to figure it out on her own. I think she’s figured it out.” Monica says back and then, perhaps rather unwisely, actually says the thing that’s been hiding in her mind for a while now. “I think you’re just scared.”

Then she freezes, she knows she’s not supposed to talk to Mom like that.

“I am.” Mom says, instead of immediately sending her to her room, though the look that comes with the words is stern. Monica’s on thin ice here.

Monica stops in her tracks, - not because she’s one step away from getting in trouble but because she didn’t expect Mom to actually admit that she’s scared. Now that she has, Monica’s not sure how to proceed.

For a minute she just stands there as her mom starts washing the dishes. What finally comes out is: “But you love her. And she loves you too.” 

“Maybe. Or maybe she thinks so because one of those flashes told her that she once did.”  Mom says back, adding more dish-washing liquid to the sponge.

“But don’t you want it to be like it used to be?” Monica asks, finally feeling lost.

“It’s complicated.” Mom says and continues doing the dishes.

Monica grabs a towel to help with the drying and falls silent after that. Mind busy stewing in frustration over adults and their need to call very simple things ‘complicated’. It’s not complicated, it’s so easy; her mom still loves Auntie Carol and Auntie Carol is clearly either starting to remember or has fallen in love with Mom all over again. Either way the answer to what they should do is very obvious.

Monica has a terrible feeling that if she lets them continue like this on their own they’re never going to figure it out. She can’t let that happen.

---- +1 ----

She’s not supposed to call Auntie Carol for anything other than an emergency because there’s no way to predict if she’ll receive that call while on board their hijacked space cruiser, during a live firefight or while on a covert op. It’s all around safer if Auntie Carol’s the one who contacts them.

But Auntie Carol is not the only person Monica uses their holographic communicator to talk with.

Which is why Monica is closing her bedroom door and turning on her radio to cover up the noises from her planned conversation. That done, she goes back to the communicator and enters the - by now familiar - string of Kree symbols.

“Hey, Talia. Are you by yourself right now?” Monica says as soon as the call connects and her friend’s image forms above the device.

“Hi, Monica.” Talia says from her side of the galaxy as they grin at each other. “I’m in my room. What’s up?”

When Monica first met her, Talia might have come across as shy and quiet but she learned really fast that this was true only while Talia hadn’t known her. Now that they’re friends they’ve fallen into the habit of talking for hours, sometimes right up until the point where their parents have to make them stop and go to sleep.

“I think I need your help.” Monica says and starts ruffling through her bag for the book that’s given her an idea. “You know how Auntie Carol plans to come to Earth for a few days next month, because it finally looks like things are going to be quiet for a little while?” 

“Yeah, my dad’s going to be free too, he said he wants us to spend some time together while it lasts. Why?” Talia says, looking curious.

“I need Auntie Carol to spend more than a few days home. I’ve told you about how she and Mom have been dancing around each other without ever just sitting down and admitting that they’re in love with each other, right?” She says, knowing she’s kinda whining a bit but after seven months with a first-row seat, she thinks she’s due.

“Only once or twice.” Talia says with a smirk and a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Monica throws one of her stuffed bears through the hologram and gets met by the sound of Talia laughing as the light reforms back into her.

“That wasn’t nice. I thought you wanted my help.” She says, still smirking. This is why Talia is her best friend even though she’s two years younger than her.

“I do.” Monica says and turns serious. “Can you talk your dad into taking you here to Earth too?”

“Maybe?” She says, though she doesn’t sound entirely sure. It’ll do for now, they can throw around some ideas on how to accomplish that part after Monica explains her plan.

“I found this book in the library and it gave me an idea,” she pulls out her copy of ‘Lottie and Lisa’ to show it to Talia, “it’s about these twin sisters who got separated as babies by their parents, and then found each other and decided to switch places while pretending to be each other.”

“But what does that have to do with your mom and aunt?” Talia asks.

“Well, I was thinking. If you were here and pretended to be me and neither of us would tell anyone which of us was which...”

“...your aunt and my dad couldn’t leave before we told them.” Talia says, finishing Monica’s thought.

“And we won’t tell them until Mom and Auntie Carol admit how they feel about each other. I don’t even think we’ll have to do much, they just need to spend enough time together that they forget all the stupid reasons they’ve come up with for why they’re too scared to be together.” Monica finishes by letting out a long, extended, exhausted breath.

“That’s brilliant.” Talia says, her pretty green eyes widening in wonder.

Monica smiles, proud of herself.

“So can you do it? Make yourself look like me?” She asks and bites her lip, this is the one part of her idea she isn’t sure of. If Talia can’t turn into her, then her plan gets unraveled at the seams and she’s back to square one.

“Probably?” Talia says, bending her neck to the side and seemingly taking a new look at Monica. “You’re not that much bigger than me and I’ve been practicing with dad. It’s also a lot easier if we know the person we’re trying to turn into. But I can’t really do the memories thing yet.”

“That’s okay. I’ll tell you everything you have to know and if they ask us something we haven’t covered we’ll both pretend that we don’t know the answer.” Monica says and smiles an exhilarated smile.

This is going to work. This has to work.

----

They step downstairs hand in hand - hand in the same hand, in fact, - it’s time for the show.

“Monica?” Her mom says cautiously.

“Yes, Mom?” Monica and Talia answer in unison just like they’ve practiced, two identical grins on their faces.

“What are you two doing?” Mom says a suspicious cadence coloring her voice and a look on her face like she’s already getting an idea of what they’re planning. And why.

Monica doesn’t mind, as long as her mom isn’t sure which of them is the real Monica there’s nothing she can do about it. Knowing what Monica wants from them might actually hurry this thing along faster. 

She does know that as soon as this is over she’s going to be grounded for a very, very long time. But sacrifices have to be made in the name of the greater good of Mom and Auntie Carol getting back together.

“Yes what are you two up to?” Auntie Carol asks looking over the back of the couch. She looks amused and unlike Mom clearly hasn’t yet worked out that Talia’s not about to change back any time soon.

They exchange a look and pull their lips in a smirk, Monica has to admit it feels a bit strange seeing her own face looking back but it’s also kinda... really cool too.

“Nothing, Auntie Carol.” Talia says innocently.

“Nothing at all.” Monica echoes her.

They both look left at the sudden loud chuckle coming from the corner where Talia’s dad is standing, as soon as they do, he sends them a quick wink and continues laughing. Monica likes him. She has a good feeling that he’s not gonna snitch on them even if he does have some way to tell them apart.

[underroleau]

underrole chapter 4

Meanwhile...

Alphys woke up at the sound of the alarm clock, and gazed around exhausted, getting up and lazily getting to Wave.

- Mhh… what time is it… Wave…? Are you awake yet? -

She yawned, not hearing answer as she approached the bed. But the kid was still sleeping, breathing heavily.

- ...huh..? -

Seeing that something wasn’t right, Alphys approached the bed slowly, and placed a trembling hand on the kid’s forehead.

- ...oh, no.. he’s hot… -

What could she do? The first thing that came to mind, was to get some ice, dip it in a basin of water, then wet a cloth to put on his forehead. But… after that, she just stood there, hands cupped together, an uneasy expression on her face.

- I… don’t know what to do… I saw this in anime, but now.. -

She started a nervous pacing on the floor, going in circles.

- I don’t know how to heal him!! I craft machines, I am a scientist, I’m not a nurse, or a doctor!! Uhmm… mhh… I have to call Undyne… maybe she’d now what to do… no, wait… maybe Sans is better… -

The lizard rushed to get the phone, dialing his number, and waiting anxiously for the skeleton to pick up.

- C’mon, c’mon.. Answer!! -

(…)

Sans’ phone rang, interrupting him mid-conversation and making him gasp.

- Sorry, lady, brb.. -

As he picked up, Alphy’s voice ran him over.

- Hell… -

- SANS, I HAVE A PROBLEM!! WAVE HAS SOMETHING, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO HELP HIM! I’M NOT A DOCTOR! -

- Alphys, come down… My not-ear!… Wave isn’t feeling good..? What is he feeling? -

- PLEASE, HURRY, I’M NOT A DOCTOR, AND WE CAN’T HAVE SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN TO HIM… -

- Ok, ok!! I’m coming! But chill and stop yelling! -

- Yes… I’ll be waiting here… ok… -

- Breathe, ok? I’m coming. -

clic.

Sans lazily stood up, with a heavy sigh, and a hand brought to the back of his neck.

- Sorry, Lady, an emergency… I have to go. -

He started walking, already thinking of the shortcut to take.

- Sans, wait… -

The door opened with a slam, almost hitting him, and a goat lady in a blue dress, with the royal family crest on her chest, walked forward with a serious expression on her face.

- ...I heard someone is not feeling good.. I can help.. -

Sans just stared back at her for a moment, amazed that she was able to push open such a heavy door with no sweat.

- Alright.. I know a shortcut, old lady. -

- You can call me Toriel.. let’s go. -

(…)

At the lab, Alphys was having a hard time being chill, and frantically retrieved her cellphone from her pocket once more.

- How much does it take… how much… Maybe Undyne would’ve been faster… -

Number dialed, phone brought to her ear, nervous patting of fingers on her shoulder.

- Hello, Alphys? Good morning? - the other side answered.

- IT’S NOT A GOOD MORNING!! Undyne, hi, sorry, Wave is sick and I don’t have anything for him, you know how to cook don’t you?? I need something for him, anything, there’s nothing at the lab! -

- B-WAH.. I get it… Alphys, he can’t die before Asgore can see him, I’ll come over with some food. Maybe some soup… -

- Yes, thank you, see you soon!! -

clic.

- Ok… a soup, a soup… - Undyne looked around, scatching her head, and rushed to grab everything from the cupboard, including soda and vegetables – Doing soup is easy, pour everything in and CRANK THE HEAT UP!!! NGAHAHHA!! -

As Alphys was getting more ice to bring downstairs, she heard the doorbell, and ran to open it finding Sans and Toriel at the door.

- Fast shortcut, huh? - the skeleton said to Toriel – Alphys, what happened? -

- Come in, come in!!! - gestured the lizard, liberating the entrance – Yesterday night something attacked us, I don’t remember what exactly happened afterwards… but Wave is not looking good… -

Toriel made her way inside the lab, stiff and worried.

- Bring me to them. -

Alphys swallowed, and nodded, guiding both in the elevator.

- I need some water, and clothes or blankets to keep them warm.. and food -

- Undyne is coming with some food!! - Alphys informed

- I hope she knows how to cook… very well… -

As the elevator opened, they rushed to the bed.

- He looks so weak… -

- I have clothes at home, wait here. - Sans said, before taking another “short cut” as he stood behind the two females, so he couldn’t be seen.

- A-And I have water!!…. I can’t offer anything else… -

- It’s alright… Alphys start bringing the water. -

Toriel said, sitting next to the bed, as the silence lingered in the room. She looked at the suffering face of Wave as he slept, and sighed.

- Poor child… you went through a lot of trouble, haven’t you… and poor Papyrus as well.. he seemed like a nice monster.. -

As Alphys came with the water, she changed the cloth on Wave’s forehead, making it cool again.

Another ring to the door, and this time, it was Undyne who just toppled in with a pot in her hands, shouting.

- I HAVE THE SOUP FOR THE KID!!! -

- P-Perfect!! Thanks, Undyne! Come with me! -

Toriel was still sitting next to Wave’s bed when she came, and approached her.

- This is for the kid… some soup… -

- Thank you.. he needs it. Alphys, please bring me to the kitchen. - The goat lady got up, making her way following Alphys after getting a look inside the pot.

- Can you get me a pot of water, please? - Toriel asked, once she was there, and took from Undyne’s pot a potato, carrots, a piece of cabbage, everything whole. Undyne didn’t cut nothing, so she had to do it. Alphys shortly after came with the pot, and placed it on the small cucinette, lighting under it, as Toriel added the freshly chopped veggies.

- Why is she doing that anyway? - Undyne scrunched her nose, disapproving.

- I-I think she knows what she’s doing… -

Undyne shrugged, a bit reluctant, and once she saw Toriel turning off the fire, she went to Wave.

- Ok kiddo, it’s time to wake up.. - she called, grabbing his shoulders, and  shaking him fiercely - Ehi, WAKE UP PUNK!! –

- U-UNDYNE!!! - Alphys called, in a panic, as Toriel came in with a dish of steaming soup.

- What? He is up!! - she grinned, as Wave mumbled confused.

- Awake? A-where? -

- There, there… try eating this, ok ? - said Toriel with a kind smile, approaching the bed.

- Oh, ok!! - said Wave, and he started eating.

As soon as he was done, Toriel took the dish away, petting his head gently with a smile.

- You’re still warm, you need to rest. -

- But I’m fine – replied Wave, with an oblivious stare

- No, you have to rest – repeated Toriel, autorithy rising in her tone.

- But... -

- Don’t say but to me. Now, please lay down.. -

Wave shrugged, as he obeyed.

- ..and close your eyes. -

Wave shut them real tight. Toriel smiled, and slowly got away, getting to Alphys and Undyne and gesturing them to go out. As their backs were turned, Sans appeared, placing some blankets on the bed, and spare clothes on a chair.

- Thank you, old lad… Toriel. - said the skeleton, hand in pocket as he approached the small group. She nodded.

- Don’t worry. For a friend like you, this and more. -

- We have to talk about Wave, Asgore has to meet it. - interrupted Undyne

- Asgore is NOT going to see him now. - said Toriel in an angry way.

- Asgore is going to free us, he NEEDS to see it! - Undyne replied, eyebrows furrowed.

- He is going to free us, yes, but at what cost? The life of seven humans? We already have the blood of six children on our hands! -

- The humans caged us down here, it doesn’t matter! - Undyne said, clenching her fists

- It does matter! You think it’s better to start another war? You’d really take the life of this child to free us? And after that, what? We’re going to kill every human we cross path with? We’re going to claim the surface as ours? - Toriel argued, harshly – Where to we draw the line! And why is it so simple for you to acknowledge killing a being who did nothing wrong!! -

- ...!! -

Undyne’s body stiffened, as she lowered her head, darting her eyes straight to the floor. Sans was just listening with a blank expression, as Alphys glanced panicky at the two women.

- Ok, ok… calm down, please… Wave’s soul isn’t human, so it’s useless anyway… Asgore won’t do anything to him.. ok? -

Toriel started to walk towards the elevator, followed by Sans, as Undyne slid down on the floor, back to the wall. Alphys looked at her concerned, kneeling down next to her.

As they were close to the elevator, Sans stopped short.

- Toriel, I have to talk to Wave for a second… -

- He needs to rest, Sans.. - said the goat lady, slightly turning towards him.

- I know, but I can’t wait. -

Toriel simply nodded, and went into the elevator. Sans, instead, returned back to the room, passing in front of Alphys and Undyne, and stopping next to the bed, whispering in a low voice.

- Hey pal.. are you still awake? -

- Yep. - said Wave, still pretending to sleep.

- You can open your eyes… Toriel isn’t here. -

- Yay!! -

- You seem happy… and much better than before. - smirked Sans – Listen we should talk.. -

- Yes we do. - said Wave, as he sat up, with an unexplicable serious expression. Sans stared at him with a weird look.

- What’s up? I’m not going to scold you. -

Wave shook his head.

- No, it’s not that. I don’t know how to explain it, but.. I have the feeling something bad is going to happen. Something real bad… I don’t know how to explain it. - he snapped his attention suddenly to Sans – If someone seems strange, you have to run away. - He said, grabbing Sans by the hoodie – Promise me! -

- I don’t…? - muttered Sans, puzzled.

- Promise me! - repeated Wave, alarmed. Sans rose his hands, nodding.

- OK, I will run away if I see someone acting strange… happy? -

- Yes. Tell the others, too. - nodded Wave, letting go of him.

Sans stared at the kid a bit longer, then let out a sigh.

- Now.. you should rest. You still seem shocked about what happened. Now get back down and close your eyes, Toriel may come to check on you. -

Wave nodded and did as he said, and Sans left the room after a few minutes. Returned upstairs, he saw Toriel, Undyne and Alphys still there, as if waiting for him.

- ….what is going on, now? - he questioned.

- I need to tell you guys what happened last night… - spoke Alphys, troubled

MASTERPOST!. THIS AMAZING SCRIPT IS FIXED FROM @nephdetermined BEST COLLABORATOR EVER UWU draw from @blobtheartist