#I have to learn that doodling is fine without caring about the right shapes.

[susartwork]

Yesterday I was feeling anxious, so to calm myself down I drew this sweaty guy :D Remember to take some time for urself 👌✨

Anxiety!Sans and Papyrus belong to @hheisa Art made by me

[helliontherapscallion]

A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

                                          ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt. 

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t. 

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up. 

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.” 

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind. 

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house. 

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore. 

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again. 

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing. 

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew. 

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this. 

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying. 

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again. 

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse. 

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind. 

--------------------------------------------------

You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface. 

Everything was wrong. 

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where. 

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented. 

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized. 

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted. 

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong. 

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. 

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.” 

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood. 

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again. 

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”  

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you. 

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can. 

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again. 

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath. 

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself. 

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.” 

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur. 

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind. 

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.” 

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.  

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well. 

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him. 

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

--------------------------------------------------

Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten. 

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk. 

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!” 

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?” 

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up. 

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan. 

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.” 

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks. 

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?” 

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.” 

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers). 

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that. 

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are. 

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them. 

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.” 

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.” 

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.” 

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were. 

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!” 

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

                                         ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Taglists (if your name is italicized, it means I couldn’t tag you. Comment with the taglist you want to be tagged in if you want to be tagged :D):

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@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser  @ohworm-writes  @localwolfanon  @realitycanbeajerk  @v10dw4lk3r  @esylwen  @seraphsema  @boiled-onionrings  @smolgreenybeany  @louistommosnesquickmilk  @hyacinthrosearsha  @ryxjxnnx  @autumnpleaves  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @0ton1n  @self-righteous-dumbass  @a-simp-for-block-people  @fortunatelylazystranger  @m1lkmandan  @mirios-sunflower  @ahmya-4  @shinipii  @noyasblush  @auroraskyfall  @cryptocry  @hee-hee-haw  @blackstar-gazer @serendipityryn

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@totem-awooga  @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons @kittymaniacz

SBI:

@afifaj

Adrenaline Junkie:

@acecarddraws  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @angelic-scent  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @misfortunatem00n  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya @kusuinko  @cheybaee  @dulcedippers  @jaciahbabes  @prlan  @hummingbird-lightningstrike  @pog-sad-muffin @mystyxmess @thegeekisheere @solar-idiot  @yummychicknnugget @aikochan4859 @lofiisoul @deadroses2021  @iamsunshinesnowflake @xxtwizztedxx @izuruamme @reeeeeeeeeeeeeee @insanitybuff 

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Monday, 15:18

Song: The Neighbourhood - Reflections

The clock at the front of the lecture hall is too far away for Sander to actually hear its ticking, but it feels like it’s louder than the tapping of his pen where he’s drumming it against his notebook. This is propped open with only a few lines of actual notes and a lot of doodles, with a quick, ragged sketch of Robbe on the bottom half of the page. Sander sighs quietly to himself as he fails his futile attempt to listen to the professor, and goes back to the drawing to add on some extra shading and more careful detail.

This is so much easier to get caught up in. Time disappears when it comes to art or Robbe, so combining the two is similar to falling into a black hole. The gravity of it is so strong, making it impossible for Sander to escape as time stops and everything else ceases to exist. He gets eaten up in it, lost until the point where everything whites out but the scratch of pen on paper and the familiar shape of Robbe’s eyes. There is no talking or ticking to make him want to peel his skin off (or at least fidget about in his chair).

It’s not the best plan, however, because he zones out a little too completely. He doesn’t realise that the class has ended until a girl clears her throat next to him, standing in the aisle and waiting to get past. Sander whips his gaze around and notices his other classmates already filing out of the room.

He flushes, muttering an apology as he quickly gets to his feet and presses back to let the girl and her friend slip past him. She glances down at his notebook as she passes and her lips quirk in a knowing smile, but she merely says, “Cute. Nice work on the lips.”

Sander’s blush deepens, but he returns her smile and manages to thank her quietly before she slips away. Her friend raises her brows and smirks at him, but doesn’t say anything as she follows. He lets out a breath and slumps back against his now folded-up chair, taking a moment to collect himself. He snatches up his bag and hastily stows away his belongings, only taking time to carefully close the notebook and tuck it in between the others in his bag. He trots down the steps and almost makes it to the door without any further embarrassment, and then the professor is calling his name.

Lars Coomans isn’t Sander’s favourite professor, only because he teaches art theory rather than anything practical. Sander doesn’t mind learning about history when he finds the subject interesting, but that only happens about twelve percent of the time. (Again, this isn’t Lars’ fault.) The man is not his favourite professor, but he might be one of his favourite people. He’s a tall man in his late forties with a tiny bald patch on the right side of his head and a soft voice. He’s relatively laid back and certainly kind.

For this reason, Sander doesn’t even feel the need to groan as he hangs back, even while the last stragglers shoot him curious looks on the way out. Lars waits until they’ve left to smile at Sander and lean back against his desk, head tilted as he considers his student.

Now, Sander begins to feel a bit nervous.

“How are you, Sander?”

The question is kind, careful, and it baffles him. He knows that all of his professors are aware of his illness, but none of them make a habit of checking up on him. They’re aware, from when he misses a week or two of classes or, on the rare occasion, needs to ask for an extension on an assignment. They’re aware, but beyond that, it doesn’t come up. No one makes a fuss about it and he’s grateful. And maybe Lars isn’t, either, maybe it’s just his kindness sprouting in the start of the conversation, nothing more than a mere courtesy. But the searching way he’s looking at Sander makes him hesitant, and he clasps his right hand around his left wrist and shifts on his feet before clearing his throat. He decides to take the casual route. “I’m fine, how are you?”

Lars seems to relax, lips quirking further for a moment before he shakes his head and waves a hand. “Oh, good, good, thank you. No, I’m not trying to be nosy, I just ask because you didn’t submit your assignment before noon today.”

Sander blinks. “Sorry?”

“The papers that were due this morning?” Lars blinks back, tilting his head. When Sander continues to stare at him blankly, he offers, “On the renaissance?”

Oh. Sander’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he finds his voice. “But that’s not due until Friday evening?” It comes out as a question as his brow furrows in confusion. He’s sure the two assignments weren’t due in one day, and he frequently checks his calendar. He’s lost, and he’s beginning to panic slightly.

“No, it was due today,” Lars says softly, searching again as he crosses his legs at the ankles and taps the edge of his desk. “Daems has an assignment due on Friday, I believe, you have him, don’t you?”

Realisation hits abruptly. “Fuck,” he breathes, raising a hand to cover his face. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know—I must have mixed the dates, put the classes in wrong.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But Lars just nods, his whole posture softening in understanding. “Alright,” he sighs. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, it’s an easy mistake. Can you get it to me by the end of the day?”

Sander swallows. “I haven’t started it,” he admits. He’d started doing the research, but he didn’t even have enough of that yet. He would be lucky to finish that by the end of the day, never mind the paper itself.

“Okay, well, you thought you had until Friday.” Lars rubs a hand over his chin and finally just shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll put you down for an extension until the time you thought it was due. And at least you don’t have the other one to worry about now, since I’m assuming that means you submitted it this morning.”

Relief flows through Sander in streams, but the banks are prickled. He purses his lips tightly and squeezes his wrist. “Lars, I just fucked up. I don’t have a good excuse, I don't want any pity.”

“No,” Lars immediately protests, pushing away from his desk to stand closer to Sander. “It’s nothing of the sort. No pity, or special treatment. You explained you made a mistake and I’ve no reason not to trust you.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re one of the best students here, Sander. I know because I pass that work of yours on the street every day. Even someone that good has to slip up sometimes, hm?”

Sander can only stare at him, feeling his cheeks warm again. He ducks his head, embarrassed at the compliment and the thought of his professor seeing the magnitude of his sappy love on a regular basis.

Lars only chuckles, bumping Sander’s shoulder. “I know I’m teasing, but I mean it. You’ve never even asked me for an extension before. I know you weren’t just slacking off. It feels bad, I know, but it’s not a big deal, kid. Just brush it off and then get it done, alright?”

Sander considers him. Then with a deep breath, he nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Don’t stress.” Lars squeezes his shoulder, then waves him away. “Come find me or email me if you have any questions, okay? Now go on, no need to hang around an old man any longer.”

Sander huffs, but offers him one last nod and grateful smile before making his way out. As soon as he’s passed through the door, he falters in his step and his eyes close, anger towards himself returning with a vengeance. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? How has it taken this long for that to happen?

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment, willing the frustration away. It doesn’t work entirely, but he manages a few slow breaths and collects himself enough to leave. He doesn’t think too much about where he’s going, just follows the feeling and lets his feet carry him to his bike, then pedal automatically through the streets.

The garage comes into view, and Sander tucks his bike away before rapping his knuckles against the door, not having to think about the familiar knock beyond muscle memory. His feet are tapping on the ground, and he does his best to shake the nerves out of his skin as he waits.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, not really. The only thoughts he can conjure are more swears and variations of stupid, stupid, stupid. He needs something distracting enough to quiet these rants down, but mindless enough that he can attempt to sort his thoughts out.

This is part of the reason he can’t go to Robbe, no matter how much he wants to. Robbe will be too kind. Too soothing. He’s the only one ever able to fully drown out Sander’s thoughts enough so that he stops being unkind to himself.

He doesn’t want that, at the moment. He thinks he deserves this more.

This being the frustration that leads him to bang the rhythmic code on the door once more when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Woah,” a familiar voice interrupts. “You’re not usually the kind who breaks in by knocking the place down.”

Sander turns slowly on his heel to face Adi. The man (as Sander considers him, because he is actually three years older and holds genuine wisdom on occasion) is staring him down in amusement. Quite literally staring down, as he has a good few inches on Sander, but he often leans back and slouches his shoulders to make up for it. He’s only about as tall as Jens, really, but he’s broader and looks overall bigger and more intimidating.

Robbe might be tiny next to him, and Sander might find it adorable, but Robbe is also completely unfazed because of long-time exposure to Jens.

Which is only mildly disappointing. (Robbe is extra adorable when he’s both dwarfed and flustered.)

“Sorry,” Sander says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t think that there might not be anyone here. I should’ve texted you first.”

Adi just huffs and moves to open the door, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, that would’ve been easier on your hands.” His own light-brown hand is slender and quick as he unlocks the door, movements as automatically familiar as Sander’s when he’s drawing.

They don’t speak even as they make it inside. Adi traipses around quietly to turn on lights and check up on everything, weaving between trucks, and Sander moves through to the back of the room to the piece he’s been working on. He throws his bag down and immediately crouches to examine his paint cans, eyes flickering between them and his work as he debates where to pick up again. Adi joins him after a moment, but still hangs back, leaning against the wall behind Sander silently.

Sander thinks this is probably why Adi might actually be his best friend, because he has known Adi even longer than his group from the Academy and Adi understands him just as well as Lucas.

“I fucked up,” Sander says eventually, so quietly he’s unsure if Adi hears him over the spray of the can. He’s ready to repeat himself in the responding silence, but then Adi is standing at his side.

Adi tilts his head. “Not with Robbe.”

“No,” Sander agrees, and finds some relief in it. At least it isn’t Robbe.

“Another friend?”

“School.”

“Oh. Bad?”

Sander lets his hand fall to his side and sighs. Adi is calm and curious but not comforting, nothing more than a steady presence next to him. It allows Sander to reorder his thoughts into something he can actually articulate. “No, it’s not even a problem, really. I just made a mistake and it’s pissing me off.”

“But it’s not a disaster?” Adi tilts his head further.

“Probably not.” When Adi only continues to stand and look, he heaves another sigh. “I mixed up the dates for two assignments and submitted the wrong one today, meaning I missed the actual deadline for the other. But he’s just giving me that time as an extension, because apparently I’m a good student. Can you fucking believe that?”

Adi’s lips finally quirk, his amusement returning at Sander’s incredulous, exasperated exclamation. “No, I can’t, actually. But then again you’re kinda art obsessed, so maybe.”

This time Sander blows out a breath that can’t really be considered a sigh, with the farting noise that accidentally accompanies it. He wipes a hand over his mouth as if it will erase the sound while Adi barks a laugh.

“So you’re just pissed because your brain did you dirty,” Adi summarises.

Sander grimaces, but nods. “And wondering how it’s taken this long for me to fuck up like that.”

“Maybe because you’re not a fuck-up.” Adi raises a brow pointedly, but Sander simply waves him off. The sentiment is kind, but it doesn’t change the fact that he fucked up. Then Adi adds, “And anyone can get their wires crossed like that. You’re not that unique.”

It draws a snort out of Sander against his will. It doesn’t matter that he knows what Adi is really trying to say, hears the reassurance and reminder tucked within the words; the blatant dry tone it comes out in startles him enough to set it off. Adi’s forming grin doesn’t match it and makes it easier for Sander to see through him, but he’ll let him away with it this once.

He knocks his paint can against Adi’s shoulder. “Thanks.” It’s much more clearly genuine than Adi had been, and more than Sander expected himself to give, but he does feel better and he appreciates it. It doesn’t matter that ‘thanks’ is as difficult as ‘sorry’; that just means Adi will know he means it.

Sander is sure of it when Adi simply nods in response, turning to examine Sander’s artwork rather than put pressure on him to figure out his expression. He watches on as Sander gets back to work, and eventually shifts to lean back against the wall. “Things are good with Robbe, then?”

“Yeah, always.” Sander smiles, unbidden, at the simple mention. He doesn’t feel the need to be embarrassed about it, even when Adi huffs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he notes, and Sander pauses. “Any special plans?”

Sander stays still for a moment, and then shrugs, putting his arm into motion again. He hasn’t thought about it. He might have been avoiding thinking about it. “Unless it’s a surprise. I know I’ll see Robbe, but that’s it. I do that everyday.”

“You not hanging out with all of them? What about Gilles and his gang, and Lucas and whoever?”

Sander’s mouth twitches, but he quickly schools it away. “I’ll see the guys at uni and maybe Lucas if we go to the flat or I pick Robbe up at school.”

He can just see Adi in his peripheral, and catches his thoughtful nod and careful bite of the lip. “Right, right. You ever planning on bringing him here again?”

“Robbe?” Sander asks, just to be a little shit.

“Fuck, no. I love him, I do, but he’s hardly an artist. Nah, Lucas.”

Sander brings Lucas at least twice a month, and Adi knows it. “They’re all busy with school. Final year and all that.”

“Yeah, but he’s applying to the Academy right? So, technically, this is like studying.”

“Do you want to see Lucas again, Adi?” Sander asks, mustering as much mock-astonishment into his tone as he can.

He receives a scoff for his efforts. “You know it’s not like that, you fucking asshole.”

“Good, because you know, he has a boyfriend, Adi.”

“Who happens to be Robbe’s best friend and your kind-of friend, yeah, yeah, I know. I also happen to be straight, dickhead.” He cocks his head at Sander and his lips slip into a smirk. “While you also have a boyfriend, and you’re whipped as hell for him, and yet look who you still came running to to kiss your boo-boos.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sander says this time, tossing the now-empty spray can at him. Adi dodges with a startled noise followed by his low, booming laughter, and Sander just shakes his head and marvels at his quiet mind.

~^~

previous/next

[spookyboywhump]

Hee hoo follow up to This

Not whumpy, just the aftermath of a rescue

CW: Past pet whump, dehumanization, mute whumpee, mentions of branding

***

Elias was nervous about his next case, however, there hadn’t been one so far that didn’t make him nervous. This one, this man had been found in terrible shape, chained up in a pitch black room, shaking and shivering. He was pale and thin, looking as though he hadn’t eaten in some time. He knew he’d been thoroughly examined and given time to rest first, thankfully he’d really just needed some food and water in his system, but now, it was time to actually speak to him and Eli could only hope this would go well.

He’d already talked to one of the people involved in rescuing the man, a person named Lane Thompson. They’d said that he refused to speak to anyone, he seemed scared and distant, which was to be expected of course. So far though, Eli had made good progress with the more reserved ones, Lane even asked him specifically to talk to the man because of that.

He sat across from him now, the man refused to look at him, keeping his dull blue eyes on the table. His auburn hair was messy and unkempt, long enough to fall into his pale freckled face, though he didn’t seem to care to brush it back. He hadn’t said a word, he’d barely even looked at him, but Elias knew he had to at least try to get somewhere with him.

“You… you don’t have to worry about your owner.” He said gently. He knew he wasn’t supposed to refer to them that way, but he also knew it was easier on the victims to use the language they understood- especially one as broken down as this man was. “He can’t hurt you anymore, and I, I want to help you. I know it’s hard but, if you could tell me anything about how you ended up there, or what he did to you, or if there were others, that would be incredibly helpful.”

The man simply shook his head, continuing to stare down at the table. He didn’t even necessarily look scared anymore, he just looked exhausted, defeated even, and it pulled at his heart to see it.

“Can you at least tell me your name…?” He asked. “If- If you can remember your real name that would be great, but, anything I can call you would work…” He said, but once again the man shook his head. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, then thought better of it. He tilted his head up finally, looking Elias in the eye as he gestured to his throat, to a scar resting just above the worn out black collar he wore. He slowly, shakily drew a line across his throat with his finger, and his heart sank as it dawned on him, a threat he’d heard time and time again ringing in the back of his mind. “You… You can’t speak, can you…?” He asked, and the man shook his head.

He almost felt nauseous, but he forced himself to bury that feeling, to focus on the task at hand. He already had a notepad and a pen with him, the latter of which he hesitantly picked up.

“Can you write…?” He asked him, and the man seemed to think about it before nodding, accepting the pen as Eli slid the notepad across the table to him. “Just… write down whatever you can tell me, anything will be fine.” He said, and he nodded in response. He started writing, slow and carefully, like somebody still learning how to write. Elias glanced away while he did so, not wanting to make him feel pressured or anything, his leg bouncing anxiously though.

After some time the man slid the notepad back to him, and Elias took his time to read over the shaky handwriting.

My owner called me mutt. I was given to him when I was 27. I don’t know my age now. First master called me Doll. I don’t remember before that. I can’t speak. I can’t fight. I’m not pretty anymore. I won’t sell for much.

His eyes widened at the last sentence and he quickly glanced up at him, somehow able to stay calm though.

“No, we, we aren’t going to sell you.” He said. “You’re free now, we’re going to help you, okay? We want to get you home, and we want to make sure the people who hurt you can’t do this again to anyone else.” He explained gently, and the man narrowed his eyes, almost suspiciously. Elias saw him glance at the notepad again and he quickly slid it back over to him, watching as he began writing on a new page. It didn’t take long for him to hand it back, that odd look still on his face.

You won’t catch them. They’ll get out of it, they always do. He won’t want me back but his new dog he will. That boy isn’t safe.

“The boy… you mean the other young man that was found there?” He asked. “Do you know his name?” He knew Lane had already spoken with that boy, they were more likely to have gotten answers out of him than Eli would out of this one though- he hated his only options were to calm him “mutt” or “doll”, he sincerely wished he knew his real name.

Owner called him Elle. He said it wasn’t his real name but I don’t know what is. Elias nodded slowly as he read it over, taking a few moments to think about what he should do next. He wanted to ask about their “owner”, he hadn’t been told a lot about him but it was usually difficult to get clear answers out of the victims. After some time, he got to his feet.

“I’ll be right back, I need to talk to someone real quick. If there’s anything you want to tell me just write it down, okay?” He said, and the man nodded, seeming to think about it while he held the pen in hand. Elias left the room, taking a deep breath once he closed the door behind him, before setting off to find Lane.

He didn’t know them particularly well, he didn’t involve himself in the actual rescues just yet, but he knew who they were and the few short interactions they had were pleasant enough he wasn’t too scared to talk to them. After asking around a bit, he found them outside, on a break in the middle of the long day, sitting on a bench and smoking a cigarette. Eli tried to ignore the smell as he approached them.

“Um, Lane, can I talk to you…?” He asked hesitantly. “It’s about that one man you found, the silent one?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” They moved over slightly and Eli sat down next to them, anxiously picking at his fingers. “Has he finally said anything?”

“No, he can’t. He showed me the scar across his throat.” He explained, not even looking up to see their reaction. “He can write though, he seemed worried about the other boy you guys found.”

“Yeah, that kid ain’t doing too great.” They sighed. “He isn’t injured or anything, he just, he wants to go back.” It wasn’t the first time one of the rescues were found that way, it didn’t surprise Eli but it was still odd to think about. “He’s talked up a storm about the guy who had them though, I don’t think he even realizes how much he’s helping.” They laughed softly.

“Has he mentioned any previous owners?” He asked. “This one said he was given to this owner at twenty-seven, but he doesn’t know his age anymore so I’m not sure how old he is now. He doesn’t remember his own name so I’m not sure how well he’ll remember a previous owner…”

“You should try asking anyway. Even if they don’t have a name sometimes they can describe them, might help you figure out something. We’ve been getting enough from the other boy, you should focus on figuring that out, find out the previous owner and maybe you can find out how he got there to begin with.” They said. Eli nodded slowly, they sounded sure of themself and he knew they’d been doing this a bit longer than him anyway.

“Alright, That makes sense… I’ll try that, thank you.” He said, getting to his feet and starting to head back inside, but Lane stopped them after only a few feet.

“Hey, Elias?” They said, and he turned to face them. “If you think you can get away with it, ask him about a brand. Those sick fucks are always branding the poor things.” They said, and Eli had to repress a shiver.

***

The man didn’t look up when Elias entered the room again, he was absentmindedly doodling on the paper. He came and sat down across from him again, thinking over what he wanted to say carefully.

“So… you said that you were given to your owner when you were twenty-seven, right…?” He asked, and he nodded. “Do you remember who did that? Your first owner, do you remember anything about them?” He asked. “If you can, can you describe the way they looked too?” The man seemed to think about it for a moment, before he started writing. This time he wrote for a bit longer, at some points he even seemed to start smiling, something that made Eli nervous, but eventually, he handed the notepad back to Elias.

My master was kinder. He named me Doll, he loved me and I love him. If you can take me back to him I would like that but I don’t think he wants me anymore. He gave me away. He was very handsome, he was tall and he had dark hair and grey eyes. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He lived in a big house and he had a scary dog (not me, a real dog) and he always wore black leather gloves. Please, if you can find him, ask him to take me back.

Elias took his time reading it over, deciding not to tell him he wasn’t going back to an owner again. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, a horrible sense of familiarity, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“Okay… I’m- I’m sorry if this is invasive, you don’t have to answer at all if you don’t want to but did he… did he ever brand you?” He asked slowly, and much to his surprise the man nodded without hesitation. He got to his feet, still shaking noticeably, and gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling it up just enough that Eli could see the F burned into his hip, just above the waistband of the sweatpants he’d been given to replace the ragged clothing he’d been found in. In a way, it was more than enough confirmation for Elias, but he almost hoped it wasn’t true. It was selfish, if it was someone else that would take a longer time to figure out, a longer time to know who was responsible for this, but still, he couldn’t help it.

“Alright, thank you…” He said, and the man sat back down. Elias thought about it before getting his phone out, deciding to give this a shot. It was easy to find a picture of the man, he was well known enough outside of the pet world. He felt sick just looking at him, but he chose to ignore it. “This… this might be a stretch but that description… is that this man…?” He asked, holding out the phone to him so he could see the image of Nicholas Fairfax, and his stomach dropped when the man grinned and nodded.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Elias remembered something Nicholas had said to him before.

You remind me of my last pet.

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (2/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,223

Summary:  Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day's work on the  Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

II.

—

Jamie laughed. 

It wasn’t the best reaction, but it was an honest reaction. Sometimes in life you just had to laugh. With deep incredulity. 

“I have a hard time believing you -” she gestured towards Dani, blonde-haired, pastel-silked, wide-eyed damsel in distress Dani, “- killed a Jedi.”

“I told you,” Dani insisted with a scowl which spoke volumes regarding how she felt about Jamie’s reaction. “It was an accident.”

“Even as an accident. No,” Jamie corrected, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Especially as an accident. Do you know how hard it is to kill a Jedi?”

“Well, I -”

“Don’t answer that. Because you’re wrong. Because you don’t know.” 

Jamie pushed herself to her feet and crossed over to her bedroom. She shook her head and muttered to herself as she pulled out two pairs of pajamas from the drawers built into the wall. “Killed a Jedi. And I bet Telos has a moon now, too. Fuck’s sake.”

She began to strip down to change. Never mind that there was no wall to protect whatever virtue she had left. That had all gone out the window long ago. The Temple wasn’t exactly a place that left one with their dignity intact. Not when she’d spent her years crammed, tip to tail, in every other padawan’s space. One quickly learned to grow accustomed to the notion that ‘personal space’ was non-existent. 

“Can’t you go into the bathroom to do that?” she heard Dani ask from the couch, sounding exasperated.

“Too late,” said Jamie, tugging the baggy shirt over her head and adjusting the soft elastic band of the pants around her waist. “Already done.” 

She tossed the small mining laser onto a table without any care if it actually landed there or not. She smacked another panel on the wall, and her dirty boilersuit got shoved down the laundry shaft that flipped open. She closed it with her knee, then scooped up the other pair of pajamas on her way back to the couch. 

“Here.” Jamie tossed the pajamas onto Dani’s lap. “We’re roughly the same height. Should fit you fine.” 

Dani started slightly when the folded up fabric hit her legs. She stared down at the pajamas — the shirt dark-washed and splashed with a loopy neon print for Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes — and her fingers slowly curled around the cloth, gripping it tight. She was so quiet that Jamie frowned.

“Hey. You all right?” 

“I know,” Dani whispered, almost too soft to hear. 

“What?” 

“I know how - how hard it is to kill a Jedi.”

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but the words died in her throat. Dani’s hands and shoulders were shaking. 

“He just - He grabbed me in the transport, and then I - I don’t know what happened but he was suddenly on the other side of the cabin and -” Dani continued, her voice ragged and raw. “He drew his lightsabre and started yelling, and he kept looking at me like he was terrified and I didn’t - I was so tired and my head hurt - my head hurt so much. I couldn’t - I didn’t mean to - to -”

A broken note escaped Dani then, and Jamie just stood there, feeling like an asshole while a pretty woman started crying on her couch. And not the nice cute kind of crying, either. Soon Dani was pressing her face into the pajamas and trying to muffle great hitching sobs into the fabric, her whole body trembling. 

“Okay,” said Jamie and she hesitantly reached out to pat the top of Dani’s head in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. One of Dani’s hands clutched at the hem of Jamie’s shirt like it was a lifeline, and she pressed her head into Jamie’s stomach so that Jamie could only stand there awkwardly while a stranger cried her eyes out and made a mess of it, too. 

"I'm so tired,” Dani mumbled again, when the sobs had faded away into sniffles. “I’m so tired."

At some point Jamie had placed a hand on Dani’s shoulder, and her other hand had begun to absently stroke through her golden hair. "Okay. All right. Let's get you to bed.” 

It took a bit of gentle convincing to get Dani to her feet. Jamie prodded her towards the bathroom to change and wash up. By the time Dani emerged, Jamie had already dug around in the closet for a spare blanket, which she was now tossing over her legs while she made herself comfortable on the couch. 

Dani’s eyes were still red-rimmed, but the blotchiness had gone from her cheeks. She filled out Jamie’s pajamas better than Jamie ever did, and she blinked at Jamie from the doorway of the bathroom. 

“You don’t have to -” she started to say. 

“Just take the bed,” Jamie sighed. She lifted her hand and waved it for the motion sensor, and the holo feed turned off. “Be warned. I wake up early for work.” 

Dani nodded and made her way uneasily towards the thin mattress, pulling back the sheets. “Do you -? I mean - Am I supposed to stay here while you -?” 

Jamie spoke through a yawn and burrowed down into the lumpy couch cushions. “Dunno. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” 

Another wave and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. With no light pollution bleeding through the barred windows, the little apartment was a mass of shadow and shapes looming in a jungle through the night. Jamie could have manoeuvred through it all with her eyes closed — and had many times before — but she heard Dani shuffling around before the mattress finally creaked. 

Jamie shut her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was a night like any other night. She tried to pretend that it was a day off tomorrow, and she had indulged in too much drink downstairs at Ho’kyn’s, that she had only managed to stumble to the couch, half dressed, before falling asleep to the dull sound of the holo feed. Except the presence of another person in the room was too unfamiliar to ignore. Dani tossed and turned. Every time Jamie thought she had managed to slip away into sleep, another shuffle of the blankets would jolt her awake once more. And worse, Dani started crying again at some point. Quietly. But not as quietly as she probably thought.

Jamie groaned. She scrunched up her face and pressed a spare pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the noise. 

It was going to be a long night. 

—

There was a dip in the cushions, as if someone had just pressed their weight against the couch. It was the first thing she noticed apart from the cold. Shivering, Jamie blinked awake blearily, her back sore, her hair a mess, her brow furrowed in confusion. Even through the blanket and the warm spring night, she could feel an icy edge cut near to the bone. It took her a moment to register where exactly she was. That she had fallen asleep on the couch. And that there was someone kneeling over her, holding a lightsabre to her throat. 

That certainly got her attention. She was definitely awake now. 

A kickstart of adrenaline sent her heart hammering into overdrive. Every breath plumed from Jamie’s mouth and nose in little bursts of white steam that clung to the cold. Jamie had to quell the urge to flinch, to move in any kind of way that might end with her neck a gaping cauterised wound. The lightsabre hummed gently. She could feel the heat of it against her skin, and she winced when she swallowed reflexively. 

The blade was the only source of light in the apartment. It drenched the air with a deep crimson haze. Dani was crouched atop her, hands holding the lightsabre steady. Her face was illuminated in a wash of red light, and her eyes — both her eyes — gleamed an eerie unblinking gold through the night. 

And with a smile that never touched her eyes, Dani slashed the blade down in a single fluid motion.

Jamie jerked awake with a gasp. She flailed against the blanket that had tangled around her legs in the night, and in an attempt to clutch at her throat, she nearly toppled right off the couch and onto the floor. Managing to catch herself before she collapsed in a graceless snarl of limbs and blanket, Jamie scrambled to her feet, fists up, ready to punch the absolute living shite out of some air molecules. When it was clear there was no present danger, she kicked the blanket away and reached up to feel at her neck.

Her unblemished, completely lightsabre-free neck.

Still breathing heavily, Jamie looked around. Sure enough, Dani was sound asleep in her bed, curled up beneath the sheets in a tiny ball, her mop of blonde hair barely visible.

Jamie closed her eyes and tilted her head back to breathe towards the ceiling in relief. Just a dream, she told herself. Just a really vivid fucked up dream. Running a hand through her dark unruly curls, she trudged off towards the bathroom. She didn’t bother being overly quiet while she took a shower and pulled on a fresh set of clothes for the day — a supposedly sweat-resistant pair of leggings and undershirt to go under a Corps issued boilersuit — and yet when she emerged from the bathroom Dani had not stirred in the slightest. 

Jamie twisted her damp hair into a messy half bun at the back of her head; it wasn’t long enough for anything else. Then she zipped up the boilersuit to midway up her chest. Grabbing her work boots, Jamie sat on the other edge of the bed and stomped her feet into them one at a time. 

“Hey,” she said, not unkindly but not softly either.

Behind her Dani stirred somewhat, the sheets shifting as she rolled over with a wordless grumble. 

Jamie bent over to tie up the laces of her boots. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t leave the apartment unless you want to be spotted.” 

No response. 

Sitting up straight, Jamie leaned over and gently poked Dani’s shoulder. “I need an affirmative. Or I’m going to keep annoying you.”

That earned her a sullen noise. “Yeah. Okay,” Dani mumbled as she pulled the sheets completely over her head and burrowed further into the pillows. 

With a shake of her head, Jamie rose to her feet. She had the front door open before she patted at her leg. She turned back around to grab the mining laser from where it had rolled onto the floor at some point during the night, and strapped it to her thigh before strolling out into the grey pre-dawn of Telos IV. 

By all accounts, it was a day like any other day. Anybody watching her would have noticed nothing different about Jamie’s routine. She caught the railspeeder a few blocks down and rode it from Thani all the way to the forests just past the grasslands in quadrant two. Chodo Habat Parkway was empty at this time of morning, but in just a few hours it would be a bustle of activity. The railspeeder flew over the Parkway and Jamie watched it from the window with barely registered interest. The only other person on the train that she could see was a Rodian dead asleep on the other side of the cabin, his antennae drooping. 

By the time Jamie made it to the edge of quadrant two, the sun had risen over the horizon and washed the planet in muted green and gold light. Far below the railspeeder, the grasslands rippled in a breeze. She eyed it with a touch more interest than for the Parkway. The previous generation of AgriCorps members had managed to get the grasslands to take, but only two species. It had taken Jamie and her team four years to introduce a handful of other grass species robust enough to cling to life in this dirt. She sat up a little straighter in her seat and tracked the varieties she could spot from this distance.

Turned out that even after three hundred years, an orbital barrage rendering an entire planet ground zero could still have an adverse effect on soil leaching. 

God damn fucking Saul Karath and the damn Sith. 

It was another half hour until she reached the drop off point. When the railspeeder slowed to a halt, Jamie dragged herself upright and hopped off. A few people passed by to get onto the railspeeder for the next stop, but the outdoor station on the forest outskirts of quadrant two was largely full of people coming to work, not leaving. She paid a few credits for a dietary supplement being sold by a dented droid vendor behind a small stall with a leaning canopy. 

“You should eat actual meals sometimes, Jamie,” the droid admonished even as it deposited the tablet-sized supplement into her outstretched palm. 

“I’ve tasted your swill before, C-87,” said Jamie. “I’ll take my chances with the supplement, thanks.”

C-87 gave an affronted sniff, but handed her a compostable cup that was filled with steaming stimcaf. “On the house.”  

She took the cup and washed down the supplement with a heady swig. “You’re a legend, mate.”

“I am not at all well known outside of Thani,” C-87 said in obvious confusion. 

She shook her head with a smile. “It’s just an expression.”

“Oh. Right. I will add it to my database with the others.” 

Jamie continued down a ramp to the broad dirt path that served as a crossroads for the area. A turbo-tractor dragged piles of gear down the track, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. A ruddy-skinned Ithorian was directing teams in shifts for the day, handing out new jobs and gathering feedback on the screen between his hands. Jamie walked towards him just as a small group departed with waves, their expressions tired but not unfriendly. 

“Morning, Murr,” Jamie greeted.

Murr’s only reply was a deep reverberation of hello. It sounded more like the shifting of tectonic plates than actual language.  

“I saw some patchy sections over the grassland outskirts of quadrant one,” Jamie said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the railspeeder behind her. “Can we get the scrubs to take a look this afternoon?” 

Murr was already tapping away at his screen. The translator device at the top of Murr’s long neck blinked, and through his rumbling subvocalisations a robotic voice said, “I will send a team to check the clay capping has not been permeated.”

“And make sure they don’t forget to test the aquifer this time,” Jamie insisted.

Murr’s throat sack expanded and he made a low booming sound that she had come to learn was a sort of derisive snort for his species. The robotic voice said, “You have little faith. You should consider revisiting your Temple.”

“Sounds almost as boring as one of your jungle Herd meets.”

He waved her away, but she saw him make an extra note on his screen nevertheless. 

“Cheers.” She gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder before striding off towards the treeline. 

From one of the pockets of her boilersuit, Jamie fished out a key. She hopped onto a rusting old swoop bike and turned it on with a twist of the key. As she sped off into the forest, she chucked the now empty cup of stimcaf over her shoulder, where it would dissolve into the nitrogen rich soil with the next scheduled rainfall. 

Work was dull, repetitive, yet fulfilling. Technically Jamie supervised a team of new AgriCorps entries, most of them young idealists who’d chosen this Service out of a sense of obligation to the Restoration, as though it were some kind of symbol against the tide of red creeping across the galactic map with every passing day. They hadn’t been parcelled out to the other branches like loose change that never quite added up to a whole number. They found her dry pessimism inharmonious with their convictions, and so they only ever came to her for direction as a last resort. 

And honestly it was the best for everyone involved. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was the last person who should be teaching anyone. Especially starry-eyed kids who looked like they’d only just graduated from being younglings at the Temple. 

Even out in the far-reaching forests of Telos, Jamie felt like she was being watched, like someone would know exactly who she was hiding in her apartment. She kept a sharp eye on the treeline as she worked. At one point she nearly gave herself a second degree burn with the mining laser when a new entry snuck up on her with a question. Jamie sent them scurrying off with a gruff answer — ‘No, don’t plant them beneath the allelopaths, you prat’ — and returned to her careful pruning with a scowl. 

By the end of the day, she was exhausted and paranoid and she still had a two and a half hour rail ride back home. To really spice things up, a huddle of officers shuffled into her rail car at one of the station stops. They went around questioning passengers about whether or not anyone had seen a woman of familiar description — blonde, pretty, mismatched eyes. When they reached Jamie, she shook her head. They glanced at the AgriCorps logo on her boilersuit, thanked her for her service and dedication, and went on their merry way. 

She was bouncing her leg up and down when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station. She tried not to look like she was fleeing, but the officers had congregated at the far end of the rail car to chat amongst themselves, and the last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a candid discussion about the latest Restoration Project updates. 

Telosians. Nosy fuckers. The lot of them.

The sun slanted towards the horizon as she walked home, her steps brisk, her shoulders hunched, her hands jammed into her pockets. Her boots rattled against the metal staircase leading up to her apartment. She held her breath while she punched in the passcode to open the door, half expecting the place to be empty, or to be a complete wreck. Dani gone. Dani taken. Dani just another strange memory to add to a list of strange memories. 

Dani was, in fact, still there. Indeed, Dani was wearing a spare set of Jamie’s clothes and an apron, and she was puttering around the kitchenette. Her hair had been tied back in a braid and she was unpacking a few bags of groceries. Jamie recognised the logo stamped on the recyclable bags as belonging to a little market stall a few blocks down. 

Jamie shut the front door behind her and locked it. “I thought I told you not to go outside. How did you even get back in without me?”

“I saw you enter the passcode last night,” Dani answered without looking up from what she was doing. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a pan that Jamie couldn’t even remember buying. It must have come with the apartment. “And you didn’t have any food.”

“There’s food in the fridge,” Jamie said.

In answer Dani opened said fridge, which was nearly barren. She gestured towards its bare shelves and said, “I’d hardly call dietary supplements and alcohol ‘food.’”

“Do you want to get caught? Because this is how you get caught.” 

“Just -” Dani shut the fridge again and turned back to her previous task with a sigh. “Let me cook dinner. And then you can teach me some lightsabre forms afterwards.” 

Jamie was in the process of tugging off her work boots, and she nearly fell over hearing that. “I’m sorry - I can do what?” 

Turning on the electric stovetop, Dani pulled out some pre-packaged protein and sauce. “If I’m going to have it, then I at least want to know how to use it.”

“First of all,” Jamie finished taking off her shoes and left them by the door. Then she crossed the room so she could lean against the counter to talk to Dani. “Nobody just starts off with a lightsabre, all right? That’s not how it works. You need to do all sorts of inner peace bantha-shit before they even let you harvest kyber to make your own lightsabre. There’s a whole right of passage.” She gestured to herself emphatically, tapping her own chest. “I never got to make a lightsabre.”

There was a very attractive, very distracting curve to Dani’s smile when she replied, “Failed the inner peace part, huh?” 

“Very funny,” said Jamie, not laughing. Dani moved to start cooking in earnest, but Jamie reached out to grasp her wrist. “Hey. Is this really what you want?” 

Dani went still. There was no leap of electricity between them, not like that first night down at Ho’kyn’s. Still both of them hesitated, waiting for it to happen again. 

When it didn’t, Dani’s jaw squared bullishly. “I want to be able to defend myself. Against -” she waved at Jamie with her free hand. “- you know.”

“Force sensitives.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie tapped her finger in a thoughtful manner; it took her a moment to realise that this meant she was tapping at Dani’s wrist while Dani watched her in confusion. Snatching her hand away, Jamie said, “Fine. C’mon.” 

Pausing to rummage through one of the grocery bags for a bread bun, Jamie walked to the middle of the room and motioned for Dani to join her. 

Dani blinked. “Wait - right now?” 

“Are you gonna wait until I change my mind after dinner?” 

Immediately, Dani switched the stove off and removed the apron. Come to think of it, Jamie couldn’t remember buying an apron either. Before she could dwell on that thought too hard, Dani had rushed over to the bedside table to scoop up the lightsabre, and was now standing before Jamie in the middle of her living room/kitchen/spare bedroom. She bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, lightsabre hilt held unsheathed in one hand, awaiting instruction. 

Fuck, but Jamie was bad at the whole teacher thing. Six months in the EduCorps had been enough to remind her — and everyone in her close vicinity — that she was Not Great at patience and bookishness. In fact, moving from the EduCorps had been her first Reassignment, and the Council had never put her back there. A decision which was met with universal relief. Especially from Jamie. 

“Ground rules,” Jamie started.

Dani nodded to show she was listening.

“If I tell you to sheathe the blade, you sheathe it. If either you or I feel uncomfortable or in danger or — whatever — you sheathe it. If you hit something you shouldn’t, you sheathe it. If you drop it -” Jamie paused, then grimaced. “Don’t. Just don’t do that.” 

Dani nodded again. “Okay.” 

“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “Usually they start you off with a practice sabre. That -” she pointed to the hilt in Dani’s grasp, “- is the real deal. One wrong move, and you will kill someone. Probably yourself. Or me. Honestly I would prefer if it wasn’t me.”

“Okay,” Dani repeated, sounding exasperated this time. 

Taking a step back so she was well clear of any sweep radius, Jamie bit into the bread bun and mumbled around a mouthful, “Go ahead.” 

“What? Just -?” Dani gave the unlit hilt a little wave. 

“Yeah,” said Jamie, chewing. “Go on.”

Dani’s thumb hovered over the silver activation button, and then she pressed down. The blade extended from the hilt, a deep and brilliant blue, blue as a Tythonian sky on a cold winter’s day, blue as an evening star. For a long moment Dani simply held it outright, the blue light washing out her face. Then she gave it an experimental slash through the air, the sound of the plasma blade like nothing else. 

“It’s -” Dani said in surprise, “- heavy.” 

Jamie hummed around another mouthful. She took the time to finish chewing before she answered, “You haven’t connected with it yet.”

Dani scrunched up her nose. “It’s just a fancy sword.”

“If that’s what you believe, then we should just go back to making dinner. Maybe you can use it to cook those steaks you bought.” 

Dani pursed her lips. She lowered the blade, holding it loosely at her side so that the tip was pointed towards the ground. “No. Teach me.” 

Studying the determination on Dani’s face, Jamie leaned back against the wall. She propped her foot back, crossed her arms, and said, “Lower your stance. We’re going to go through the forms, now.” 

If nothing else, Dani was a quick learner. At least, that must have been the reason why this was going so well. It certainly couldn’t have been because Jamie was a decent teacher, because everyone from the Outer Rim to Tython knew that wasn’t true. Yet Dani, after an hour spent barefoot and wearing pajamas in Jamie’s living room, already looked more at home with a lightsabre in her hands than Jamie ever had after years of training in the Temple. 

At one point, Jamie tore off a chunk of bread and threw it at the floor near Dani’s legs. Dani leapt back a step unsteadily and pressed the deactivation button so that the blade slid back up into the hilt. 

“What was that for?” Dani asked.

Jamie jerked her chin towards her. “Pay attention to your feet. Look how narrow they are. Your opponent can put you off balance, take ground from you, force you to retreat.”

“You can just tell me that. You don’t need to throw food at me.” Dani knelt down to pick up the piece of bread and toss it into the sink. 

Now that Jamie was actually looking at the floor more closely, she asked, “Did you vacuum today?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when did I own a vacuum?” 

“It was in the supply closet behind your pantry.”

“I have a pantry?” 

Dani walked over towards the kitchen side of the room and hit a panel on the wall that Jamie had never cared to fiddle with in the past. A whole section of the wall jutted out then slid sideways to reveal a whole host of kitchen items and cleaning supplies that Jamie had never even knew existed. 

“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered, scratching at the back of her head. “I have a pantry.”

Hitting the panel again to make the wall shut, Dani took her place back in the centre of the floor. “Can we keep going?” she asked, and she already pressed the activation button to unsheathe the lightsabre once more. 

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. By now she had crouched down against the wall, one leg outstretched as she idly fidgeted with the zipper of her boilersuit. “Start from the top. One. Two. Three -”

Eventually Jamie didn’t even have to mime the movements for Dani to follow along, and Dani — looking utterly pleased with herself, her smile radiant — finished a whole set without a single discernible flaw. 

"This isn't so hard," Dani said. She gave the lightsabre a bold flourish as she turned on the spot.

Which of course meant that the blade cut right through Jamie's couch.

Dani scrambled to hit the deactivation button, nearly dropping the lightsabre in the process, but the damage was already done. The couch was cut cleanly in half. Slowly it buckled as they watched, slumping to the floor in the centre where it was no longer self supported. The cut through it smoked gently and smelled of burning hair. 

Jamie glared.

Clutching the now unlit sabre hilt, Dani winced. "Sorry."

Jamie pushed herself upright, dusting off her hands. "I think that's enough lightsabre training for one evening,” she growled.

The worst part was how Dani kept apologising all through dinner. 

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, hovering at Jamie’s elbow while Jamie loaded dishes into the automatic wash machine. "I can buy you a new couch.” 

"Save your credits for the trip to Tython."

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t -” Jamie cut herself off. She shut the front-loading machine a little more firmly than was perhaps strictly necessary, then turned to face Dani, whose expression was positively doleful. “Don’t be sorry. Be better. Don’t get cocky just because you got through one set of the most basic lightsabre form there is.”

“Sor -” Dani started to say, then changed course. “I won’t.” 

The lightsabre itself was propped atop the counter on the far side of the room, where Dani had hastily put it down moments after the incident. 

Reaching for a dish towel, Jamie shook her head and started to wipe down the kitchen countertop. “You need proper training. Not whatever rubbish I can offer you.” 

“I don’t want to go to the Temple. I don’t want to learn about -” Dani’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned down at her own feet. 

“Being Force sensitive isn’t just something you can run away from, you know,” Jamie said. She ran water over the dish towel and rung it out before continuing where she’d left off. 

“I told you,” Dani grumbled. “I’m not Force sensitive.”

“Fuck’s sake. This again?” 

“You don’t need to teach me about the Force. You can just teach me the basics of a lightsabre.”

At that, Jamie laughed. She stopped mopping up the counter and turned to face Dani. “Fuckin’ hilarious that you think those two things are different somehow.” 

With a huff, Dani turned aside. She crossed her arms and glowered at the maimed couch. 

When it was clear she wasn’t going to speak, Jamie tossed down the towel. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you’re -”

“Stop,” Dani said through grit teeth. “Just - stop it.” 

Jamie didn’t stop it. Because if there was one thing Jamie knew about herself, it’s that she didn’t have a lick of good sense. “What do you think will happen if you try to run from it, anyway? Do you think nobody will notice? Forever? Because even I noticed, and I’m about as Force sensitive as a tree stump.”

While Jamie spoke, Dani’s jaw clenched. “You think I want some Council to dictate my whole life? You think I want -?” she asked with a broad sweep of her hand towards Jamie’s apartment without finishing her sentence. 

Jamie narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.” Jamie took a step forward, and it was gratifying that Dani didn’t back down, that she held her ground. “If the Jedi don’t find you, the Sith will. You think my life is bad? What are you gonna do? Run forever? Why are you -?”

“Because! Because this will get worse!” Dani burst out, and there was a ragged edge to her voice that gave Jamie pause. “Because if I use it — if I do that then I’ll -!”

She stopped abruptly, hand flying to her head with a wince of pain. Concerned, Jamie reached out, but the moment she touched her, it was like being struck by lightning. Like a chorus of song branching out in all directions. Dani staggered away from her with a gasp, breaking the connection, and her eyes were squeezed shut, arms raised as though to ward off an incoming blow. 

“I’m - I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -! I didn’t -!” Dani was saying, apologising over and over, and all but cowering. 

Jamie stared at her, hand still outstretched. Slowly she rubbed her fingertips together, half expecting a flicker of sparks to leap between them. The thrill of it still echoed around her ribcage and the roof of her mouth. 

This time when Jamie reached out she was careful not to touch her. “Dani,” she said softly. “Nothing happened. It’s all right. Hey. You’re all right.”

Hesitant, Dani opened her eyes, peering around the room as if surprised that everything was still intact. She worried at her lower lip, her hands clenched at her sides. Finally she looked up at Jamie, and the fear was painted openly across her face, pleading and alone; it gleamed in her eyes.

"The Force isn't what you think," Jamie murmured. "You can't run from yourself."

Dani opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. She dropped her gaze and sniffed. For a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cry again, but then Dani simply nodded. If anything her expression was a mixture between miserable and embarrassed. Jamie patted her upper arms, and for a brief second Dani tensed, only to relax when nothing happened. 

“Now,” said Jamie. “Let me finish washing up. I’m afraid that if you help, you’ll cut my kitchen in half, too.”

Dani let out a watery laugh. 

Jamie grinned in return. “I’m serious. My kitchen’s small enough as it is. Don’t need it drawn and quartered as well.”

Dani was biting back a smile when she looked up at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a jerk?”

Jamie pretended to look thoughtful and shook her head, but what she said was, “All the time.” 

That earned her another snort of laughter. Dani wiped at her cheeks with both hands. 

Picking up the dish towel once more, Jamie snapped it feebly in Dani’s direction. “Go on, now. Get.”

Dani lifted her hands in mock surrender and moved away, leaving Jamie to finish up in the kitchen alone. Jamie didn’t pay much attention to the sounds of rummaging in the apartment behind her. At one point the bathroom door shut, then she heard the hiss of water in the shower. She took the opportunity of Dani’s absence to strip down and get into pajamas without making her guest blush scarlet. As tempting a proposition as that was. 

When Dani finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, pinning a towel to her chest with her fingers, Jamie was bored and flipping through the holo feed from the bed because the couch was — well, the couch still smelled like burning hair for starters. Bit unpleasant, that. Jamie wouldn’t be rid of the stench for weeks.

Getting to her feet, Jamie squeezed past Dani for her turn in the bathroom with a murmured, “‘Scuse me,” while Dani shied away from her, still looking guilty, like she was expecting Jamie to throw her out at any moment. Which, honestly, was a bit rude, to be honest. Jamie was an excellent host. Minus the whole ‘no food’ thing. 

When Jamie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, scrubbed and tired and ready to sleep, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the ground beside the bed, Dani was fluffing up some of the couch pillows in a makeshift mattress. She had changed into the same spare set of Jamie’s pajamas, and was now settling herself atop the cushions. 

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I thought -" Dani started to say, but she trailed off, her hands curling in the blanket she had drawn up her legs. 

"Just -" Jamie sighed and went over to her usual side of the bed, where she pulled back the sheets. "Get in."

While Dani sat on the floor trying to make up her mind, Jamie waved off the holo feed and the lights. With a groan, Jamie clambered into bed, listening to the pop of her joints. She wasn’t exactly ancient, but maybe she was getting a little old to be scaling canopies hundreds of feet in the air for hours at a time. She might start training some of the new recruits in mass pruning tomorrow. Provided they didn’t display an alarming propensity for loss of limb when wielding a thermal saw. 

Beside her, Jamie felt the mattress dip beneath a new weight. Dani slipped beneath the sheets and curled as close to the edge as she possibly could, far away from Jamie. Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. She wasn’t too keen on a cuddle, either. Grabbing a spare pillow, Jamie hooked it beneath her arm and rolled over. She wriggled deeper into the mattress and settled in for a kip. 

Until the bed trembled slightly, that was.

Without opening her eyes, Jamie frowned. There was shuffling behind her, sounding like Dani was trying to wind herself into as tight a ball as possible. She was, Jamie realised, shivering. Jamie sighed. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A quick trek across the apartment, and she returned with a spare blanket, which she threw over Dani without saying anything. Dani’s form went very still, and Jamie crawled back into her own side of the bed, punching her pillow into shape before resting her head upon it. 

After a long moment of silence she could hear Dani’s soft voice through the night. “Thank you.” 

—

She didn’t have the same dream again. Though she didn’t sleep well either. She wasn’t used to having another person in her bed. Especially when said person kept fidgeting and sighing and rolling over, unable to fall asleep. 

And when Jamie did eventually sleep, the dreams were fragmented and red. They were shards of glass and metal in a clenched fist. 

—

When Jamie stepped off the railspeeder the next morning, bright and early, she approached C-87 for her usual dietary supplement and stimcaf combo. The droid perked right up when it saw her coming.

“Jamie -”

“Mornin’,” Jamie said around a long yawn. “Don’t suppose you could make it a double shot today?”

“Jamie,” the droid said again in as serious a tone as it could muster.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What about it?”

In answer, C-87 swivelled its head around. With a frown she followed its gaze, and then she felt the blood drain from her face. 

There at the end of the ramp stood Pillock One and Pillock Two. She didn’t need to see the Czerka logos on their kit to recognise them. Their backs were towards her and they were talking to Murr. Ithorians didn’t typically have what she would call expressive faces, but Murr’s large brown eyes were wide and he had retracted his neck like a turtle trying to hide in its shell. 

“Shit,” Jamie swore and she ducked down behind C-87’s stall. Without question the droid reached up to adjust the canopy so that it hid her better. “Did they talk to you?”

“Negative,” C-87 replied. “They were questioning a few other AgriCorps members, and then they started speaking with Murr. I took the liberty of moving your swoop bike so that it was more easily accessible, should you require it.”

Shuffling around on her hands and knees, Jamie dared to peek around the edge of the stall. Sure enough, her swoop bike was within easy reach. Murr spotted her, his throat sack swelling up in surprise as he drew in a deep breath. Pillock One started to turn, but Murr pointed towards the treeline, where her swoop bike would’ve been parked had C-87 not moved it.

Pillock Two made a rude gesture towards Murr before setting off in the direction he had indicated. Pillock One followed after him, unholstering the very large blaster rifle slung across his back. When they’d gotten far enough away, Murr gestured sharply at Jamie in what was very clearly a shooing motion. 

C-87’s head popped around the corner so abruptly that Jamie jumped with a curse. “I think you should take the next railspeeder back to Thani as soon as possible. Alternatively, you should drive your swoop bike,” the droid told her.

“Yeah, you think?”

“I have been thinking that for several minutes, in fact.” 

“It’s just an expression,” Jamie sighed. “We’ll work on your sarcasm module some more next time, all right?” 

“Very well, Jamie.”

She didn’t wait to see if Pillock One and Pillock Two were heading further into the forest. She jumped on the back of her swoop bike, started it up, and sped off towards the next railspeeder station. There was no way a short-distance bike like this could make it all the way back to Thani in good time. She had to wait at the next station along the grid, anxiously tugging at her boilersuit zipper, wishing she had a hood or something to hide herself even a little bit. The swoop bike she simply abandoned at the station, jumping onto the next rail service with the sort of pent up jitters that had her half vibrating out of her skin. 

It was perhaps the longest two hours or so of her life. In recent memory, anyway. She spent the whole time folded up in a back seat in the rail car, trying to make herself seem inconspicuous. When a random ticket officer droid trundled by, requesting to see her ticket credentials, she fumbled with the laminated pass so badly that she nearly dropped it. And when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station, she bolted out as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

Back at the apartment, Jamie burst through the front door. Dani, who had been flicking through the holo feed from the bed, started with a yelp. 

“You scared me,” Dani gasped, hand over her still heaving chest. 

“Change of plans,” Jamie said. She rushed across the apartment, grabbed a rucksack from beneath her bed and started to shove clothes into it at random. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Now.” 

For all the confusion on her face, Dani jumped to her feet and began gathering what little items she’d brought with her. “What happened?” 

“Czerka.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she dropped her nanosilk cloak to the ground. “They know where I am?” she asked, swooping down to snatch up the cloak.

“Yes,” said Jamie. Then, “No. Maybe. They know where I am now, anyway. Showed up at work, and — Look. We have history, all right?”

“What kind of history?”

Jamie darted into the bathroom to gather up a few necessary toiletries for the trip. Dani followed, watching her from the doorway. 

“Jamie,” said Dani, voice sounding both stern and worried all at once. “What kind of history?” 

“I know their leader. Peter fucking Quint. I may have -” Jamie opened the mirror cabinet and just pushed a few rows of stuff into the open bag in her hand. “- gotten his arm chopped off at one point.”

“You what?” 

“It was his own fucking fault!” Jamie hissed. “I just helped! A little! And he’s still, y’know -” She zipped up the bag and shrugged. “- sore about it. Some people just hold a grudge.” 

“Oh, sure. Can’t imagine why he’d do that,” Dani said, and Jamie didn’t have to look at her to hear the roll of her eyes. 

Jamie turned around and stomped past her from the bathroom. “At least he’s still alive. Which is a hell of a lot better than what you’ve accomplished.”

Dani glowered at her, still leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. 

“Do you want to wait around until Czerka finds us?” Jamie asked, pointing towards the front door. “Because they’re on their way.”

With a huff, Dani relented. She grabbed up her small bag and clipped the lightsaber to the belt at her waist. “No. I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Fireworks Event - Lucien

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Contains heavy references to Whimsical Date!

Previous section: here

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here 

Prior to the Carnival, there were questions posed in the Go See You feature which affects which scenario the player sees during the Fireworks Event:

Question 1: Do you still remember when we went to the amusement park previously? Could you let me know which part left the deepest impression on you?

Option A: Because it’s Professor Lucien, I pick the souvenir store.

Option B: The spinning tea cups of course~

Option C: I liked the fantasy castle.

-

Question 2: Although this is a little sudden, what do you want on a “perfect day”?

Option A: Give me as pleasant surprise.

Option B: I want to return to our most innocent selves together.

[ PART ONE PROLOGUE ]

A familiar ringtone suddenly sounds. I take out my phone, cancelling the alarm I had set early on.

MC: The fireworks display will start in 15 minutes, so let’s head to the plaza now!

I take Lucien’s hand, about to walk forward. However, he pulls me back.

MC: What’s wrong?

Lucien: Even though time is a little tight, there should still be enough time.

Seeing my puzzled expression, Lucien chuckles lightly and pinches my hand. 

Lucien: We’ll go to the place you want to go most.

[ Option A: Because it’s Professor Lucien, I pick the souvenir store. ]

Following the crisp sound of a wind chime, Lucien and I step into a souvenir store.

I didn’t expect that he’d still remember my answer from before. A wave of warmth surfaces from my heart.

When I curiously scan through the merchandise on the shelves, a few unusual keychains attract my attention.

The keychains have doodles on them, and are in the shape of alphabets. With a stirring in my heart, I select two keychains featuring the first letter of our names.

MC: The last time we came to the amusement park, we bought two dolls. This time, let’s also bring souvenirs back!

Looking at my expectant gaze, Lucien smiles in understanding, then takes the keychains from my hand.

Lucien: Keychains are very practical. They can be brought around everywhere, and...

He dangles the keychains in his hand.

The pictures on these two alphabets are the same. When I look at it next time, I’ll subconsciously think of you.

Seeing through my thoughts, my cheeks turn red.

MC: ...but this is the one I want!

I take the keychain with the letter ‘L’ from his hand.

Recollecting the experience of selecting the dolls, I deliberately mimic his words, tilting my head and smiling at him.

MC: If these two keychains represent the both of us… keeping this one with me would be more meaningful, right?

Hearing my cheeky tone, Lucien can’t help but chuckle.

Lucien: Looks like MC always learns quickly when it comes to “teasing” me. In that case, the keychain representing you will be in my care.

He pauses, the smile in his eyes receding, replaced with an insuppressible warmth.

Lucien: MC, you...

-

[ Option B: The spinning cups of course~ ]

Sorry, I couldn’t find uploads of this option T-T

-

[ Option C: I liked the fantasy castle. ]

On top of the colourful castle which has a spire, Lucien and I look down at the park’s scenery.

I didn’t expect that he’d still remember my answer from before. A wave of warmth surfaces from my heart.

Gazing at the gorgeous night scenery, I’m just about to say something, but feel an insuppressible itch climbing up the tip of my nose.

MC: Achoo--

Lucien is stunned for a moment, then furrows his brows.

Lucien: Is the wind too strong here? We should head down first to prevent you from catching a cold.

I shake my head in embarrassment.

MC: I’m fine, I’m fine. My immunity is very strong.

Despite what I said, Lucien walks behind me, pulling his coat open and encasing me in warmth.

Lucien: Feeling slightly better now?

The familiar scent surrounds me, and my heart rate subconsciously speeds up slightly. I nod.

MC: [blushing] ...mm. The last time we visited the amusement park, we didn’t get to climb the castle. This time, my wish has been fulfilled.

Perhaps noticing my nervousness, Lucien chuckles softly from behind..

Lucien: Mm. I have to congratulate this little warrior for bravely sending those monsters running.

MC: Hm? You remember that too...

A little surprised, I lift my head and look at Lucien. That was a dream I had in my childhood which I once told Lucien about.

Lucien: Of course. That dream left such a deep impression - how could I forget it?

Staring into his eyes, which are crinkled slightly, the corners of my lips involuntarily curve into a smile, and I continue from where he left off.

MC: That’s right. It was indeed an arduous and long battle.

Then, I pull his coat even tighter over myself.

MC: But in order to see my “little prince”, it’s very worth it~

From behind me, a place I can’t see, the light in Lucien’s eyes flashes slightly.

He suddenly lowers his head, leaning close to my ear, and says softly--

Lucien: MC, you...

[ PART ONE ENDING ]

“Dong-- dong--”

The melodious bell from the plaza drifts over.

Lucien and I look towards the direction of the plaza, which is already filled with people.  

Lucien: Looks like the time is just right.

His tone is unhurried, as though everything was within his expectations.

Lucien takes my hand, his action elegant, akin to an invitation. 

Lucien: MC, let’s see the fireworks together. 

-

Beams of fireworks rise rapidly into the sky, blossoming in the endless night sky.

The colour I had selected is especially bright in the night. 

Among the crowd, Lucien and I are standing towards the back, yet we’re able to take in the entire scene.

Suddenly, I tug on Lucien’s hand.

Lucien: What is it?

MC: Lucien, I just made a wish. I wish that on this day next year, we can also spend it like this.

Another firework blooms in the sky. Lucien watches me, blinking gently.

Lucien: That’s all?

MC: That’s all.

Seeing me nod ignorantly, Lucien chuckles. 

Lucien: To me, however, that’s far from enough.

MC: Oh? In that case, what’s Professor Lucien’s wish?

I deliberately show that I'm listening with all ears.

Lucien: As compared to a wish, I’m more willing to call it something that will definitely be fulfilled. On this day, whether it’s next year, or the following year, or the year after that--

Lucien: We’ll be like this, spending it together. 

Lucien takes my hand, bringing it to his lips and giving it a light kiss.

Lucien: It’s an agreement.

In the next second, a warm sensation descends on my lips.

[ VIDEO OF FIREWORKS ]

[ PART TWO PROLOGUE ]

As the final firework dissipates in the sky, the amusement park starts playing its main theme song.

Although I had heard this melody so many times today, a different emotion surges from my heart this time - it’s a reminder that the amusement park is about to close.

As though he can sense my reluctance to leave, Lucien gently rubs the back of my hand.

Lucien: Come to think of it, I wanted to tell you something earlier, but was interrupted by the bell.

MC: Mm? What is it?

Lucien chuckles lightly.

Lucien: Do you still remember my question from before? Regarding what you’d want most on a “perfect day”...

[ Option A: Give me as pleasant surprise. ]

I nod.

MC: I said that I wanted you to give me a pleasant surprise.

Lucien: This requirement was a little difficult, but I still prepared something, and I hope you’ll be satisfied.

With this, Lucien takes out a gift box wrapped with a ribbon, beckoning me to open it.

Doing as he says, my eyes widen in surprise.

MC: ...it’s so beautiful!

A plant which somewhat resembles a flower rests in the box - on a dried branch, there are countless flickering and dazzling small crystals.

Lucien: This is a flower which has specially undergone chemical immersion. Because it’s been made into an artwork, there’s no need to worry about it becoming dull with time. MC, have you heard of “The Branch of Salzburg”? It was originally a normal tree branch, but as it was buried in a salt mine for a period of time, it was filled with little crystals glistening like diamonds.

Without waiting for my response, Lucien chuckles and continues.

Lucien: To me, this carnival event is like that. Before this, it was just an ordinary event, and wasn’t anything special. But having participated and experienced it with you, it has become precious along with our memories. However, I want to tell you that this isn't all.

He pauses, his voice becoming slightly more tender.

Lucien: Many details in life have become glistening diamonds because of you. Just like the beautiful crystals on The Branch of Salzburg - fine and small, yet resplendent and dazzling. This is a pleasant surprise that you’ve given me. And right now, I wish to convey this feeling to you.

Lucien encases the hand that I’m holding onto the box with into his palm, a pair of deep eyes watching me.

Lucien: I hope that as you compliment the beauty of this gift, you’re able to know...

Lucien: That this is how you’ve enabled me to see the world.

-

[ OPTION B: I want to return to our most innocent selves together. ]

MC: Of course I remember. I said I wanted us to return to our innocent selves.

Lucien: In that case, I wonder if today has satisfied your expectations?

MC: It didn’t just satisfy them - it far exceeded my expectations!

The corners of Lucien’s lips curl slightly, and he scratches the tip of my nose gently.

Lucien: But I don't think this is enough.

After saying this, he takes out a gift box wrapped with a bow.

MC: What’s this? I didn’t expect Professor Lucien to have such a feminine heart.

Faced with my teasing, Lucien chuckles wordlessly, beckoning me to open the gift box.

After opening it, I realise that there’s an antique, hand cranked music box in it.

MC: Is this for me?

Lucien: Mm. Music can regulate the cerebral cortex, and can even awaken a person’s memories, carrying the weight of people’s emotions. That is why I prepared a music box. The melody in it is the main theme song of this amusement park. In the future, as long as you play this melody, you can relive this memory, and feel the state of mind that we have right now.

I turn the handle, and the smooth music flows out slowly. The corners of my lips involuntarily curl upwards.

Lucien: Actually, I found your question very unexpected before, wondering why you’d want us to return to our innocent selves.

Lucien pauses, then continues.

Lucien: Although people often say that innocence will vanish along with the passage of time, that a day would come when we have to bid it farewell, and walk towards maturity...

Lucien: I don't think innocence and maturity are necessarily mutually exclusive. After all, I can always sense it from you.

My heart softens in an instant, but I can’t help but want to tease him for a while. I shoot him a smile.

MC: Professor Lucien is flattering me again. Also, maybe I just wanted to see your innocent side?

Lucien is stunned for a moment, then chuckles. He reaches out to pat my head.

Lucien: That won’t be necessary. Because to me, you're a part of my most innocent side. If you’re willing, I hope to accompany you through “the most perfect day”, each and every day.

Lucien: So, remember to stay by my side always.

[ PART TWO ENDING ]

My heart is brimming with emotions which are unable to be put into words. I subconsciously take a step forward, hugging the person in front of me tightly.

He seems to freeze for an instant. But very quickly, his slender arms wrap themselves around me with the same strength.

I inhale his scent greedily and deeply, my voice trembling slightly.

MC: Thank you, Lucien. For letting me have this most perfect day.

Lucien doesn’t say anything, but he rests his chin on the top of my head.

The lights in the amusement park dim one by one. The surrounding crowd heads towards the entrance in succession. But I no longer feel reluctant to leave.

I know that even though the amusement park may be over, this memory will continue being preserved, remaining in our hearts.

Amongst the clamour of the crowd, we hug each other quietly. When the final warm yellow streetlight is left, I part with Lucien’s hug, offering him my hand happily.

MC: Let’s go too!

Lucien: Mm, let’s go home.

Our palms are pressed together tightly, as though wanting to embed every moment we’ve experienced into the lines.

The light from the path ahead is very dim. But in our hearts, we seem to own the light of the entire world.

[monstersandmaw]

Male shadow/room monster (Lamorak) x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

The first-prize winner of my giveaway from a little while back, @honeysugacube, requested a tentacled shadow/room monster for the 3k story, so here it is!

Content: Reader is both touch- and affection-starved, feeling distant and detached from her family who provide her with things and objects instead of the warmth of affection, equating them with love... In a version of her own fairytale, the reader gets the friend and affection she longs for. Wordcount: 3825

___

Leaving the campus and the stresses of your course behind you, you stepped onto the bus and drew out your phone to text your mother. ‘Just leaving - I’ll be home in half an hour or so.’ With that done, you slipped your earphones into your ears and turned up your music. Moments of your day replayed in a random shuffle through your mind, but always you felt always on the outside of things.  

Your classmates had arrived at the lecture that morning and immediately hugged their friends, slapped each other on the back, and blurted questions and anecdotes from their weekends, while you doodled quietly on the edge of your notebook, waiting for the professor to show up. It wasn’t that you had no one, but they had different classes, and when you did share lunch together, there was nothing between you like the depth of friendship you saw with that group in particular. You didn’t really see them outside of a university context, and you’d never been all that good at making friends.  

The bus jolted and you blinked, realising that you’d drifted off into your reverie, and now the bus was pulling away from your stop. It wasn’t that far to the next one, so you pushed the stop button and slouched to the front of the bus, bag slung over one shoulder.  

Closing the front door behind you twenty minutes later than you’d intended, with sore shoulders from lugging your book bag all that extra way, you sighed. The hall light was off, casting odd shadows across the walls and floor, and as you kicked your shoes off and one bounced off the skirting board, you thought the shadows shifted just a little bit, drawing back, almost as if they’d tried to shrink away from the blow of your shoe. 

You frowned, but paid it no more attention than that, and headed for the kitchen. Your father stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables while your older brother lounged nearby, nose buried in his phone. It had been a little quieter around here since your older sister had got a job about three hours’ drive from the city, and you were still getting used to that absence, like an instrument missing in a group while the others play on regardless. You were the only one who really seemed to notice the difference.  

“How was class today?” your father asked without looking up.  

“It was fine,” you said as you poured yourself a drink. He didn't comment that you were later than usual, and perhaps he hadn’t noticed. You’d learned not to bother trying to elaborate on the intricate details of your day to your family. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about you, so much as they just… didn’t engage. You’d spent a good five minutes with your mother telling her about the first day’s lectures last year, and once you’d finished, she’d said, “I’m glad it went ok. Would you like rice or pasta with supper?” That pretty much summed up your relationship with your family; they were good providers, but there was no warmth.  

As your father finished with the vegetables, he asked, “Are you planning on going out with any friends for your birthday next week?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.” If you’d been honest, you’d half forgotten that it was your birthday anyway. You hadn’t made any plans, worried that anyone you asked would either accept only to be polite or would find somewhere better to be and leave you feeling worse than before about not doing anything.  

“You’re still up for going to that Italian place round the corner though, right?” your brother butted in from the other side of the room.  

“Sure?” you shrugged. He and your parents loved Italian, so that would probably make for an easy evening all around.  

“Great,” he grinned and turned back to his phone.  

A week later, you woke in the pre-dawn of your birthday and felt absolutely certain that there was someone in the room with you. With a gasp, you sat bolt upright and stared at the door, but nothing was out of place, and there was clearly no one else there. With your heart pounding, you sighed, feeling the ghost of a touch on your face from some lingering dream that you only half remembered. Fingers had been stroking gently down your cheek, and combing through your hair, a soft voice whispering that they were proud of you.  

Sighing deeply, you flopped back into the pillows with a groan. The more you thought about it though, the sharper the details became. The fingers had not been fingers, but soft, smooth tentacles of dark grey smoke, and there had been milk-white eyes blinking in the darkness; four of them.  

“What a way to start my birthday, huh?” you mused aloud. With another sigh, you rolled over and pulled the covers up around your ears.  

Hours later at breakfast, your parents gave you your presents - a modest list of things that would have been useful to almost anyone your age at college, and, with a small degree of fanfare, they offered you the latest iPhone, telling you how much you deserved it for working so hard and making them proud. No one gave you a hug though. It was hard not to feel ungrateful as you cradled your new phone in your hands, and the guilt that accompanied the sentiment troubled you. They loved you, of course they did, and they showed it by providing you with everything you could want. Except what you actually needed in the truest sense of the word…

Conversation at dinner that night was mostly centred on your father’s work, but there was a bit of discussion about the progress that your brother’s favourite team had made through the league tables, and your mother even asked you about the assignment you’d been struggling with a little bit the last week. “I got an A,” you smiled and her face lightened instantly.  

“Well done. I knew you’d do us proud.”

Your hand twitched on the fork, as if you’d been expecting her to reach over and squeeze it, but she didn’t. She topped up your glass and chinked hers jauntily against the rim instead, the cold glass chiming oddly in the busy restaurant.

Back at home your brother nudged you in the ribs and tilted his head curiously. “You ok? You were kind of quiet tonight…”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just a bit tired.”

“Ok, look, I was going to give this to you earlier, but I thought I’d wait til tonight. I know you used to read all those creepy fairytales under the covers as a kid and play with all the dolls mum and dad gave you…” and with that, he handed you a badly-wrapped parcel, the selotape lifting off at one end where it had refused to stick to the brown paper. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m kind of shitty at wrapping.”

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

Awkwardly, he flashed a smile at you and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway with the present he’d pulled out of his jacket pocket where it'd been hanging on a peg on the wall. From the weight of it and the shape of the package, you were certain it was a hardback book. As you swept your fingers over the cover, the light above you flickered off suddenly and you glared up at it. In the absence of light, the shadows seemed denser somehow, and you shivered, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling slightly. A heartbeat later, and it came back on. With another shiver, you left the hall and headed upstairs.  

Alone in your room, you unwrapped your brother’s present.  

Old, slightly cracked leather bound the book, and it had metallic corner pieces to protect the edges. It was only about as long as your hand from palm to fingertip, and there was nothing on the cover at all. Opening it carefully, your nose picked up hints of a scent like distant woodsmoke, herbs, and something akin to petrichor. Inside was written a phrase in Latin and, with the help of your new phone, you discovered that it meant, ‘In the heart there lives a shadow’.  “Odd title,” you murmured aloud.  

The story itself, thank goodness, was written in English, in an archaic typeface that might have looked at home with a first edition of Dickens or something.  

‘In a house on the hill above town lived a young girl,’ it began in typical fairytale style, and despite the cliche, you found yourself falling further and further into the story. It spoke of the daughter of a witch who had grown up feeling isolated, her mother always working. The parallel hit you hard almost immediately and you wondered if your brother had finally noticed how your family behaved towards each other. Dismissing it as a fluke, you turned your attention back to the book.  

To make up for the lack of time the spent together, the witch bought her daughter gifts, and among one of those gifts was a small chest, meant for jewellery or trinkets. When the girl opened the chest, however, she found a pool of inky liquid that stirred and rippled when she dipped her finger into it, the fluid never leaving any trace on her skin. She left the jewellery case open on a table in her bedroom, and that night when the sun went down, when there was only candlelight in her room, a small black cat crept up to her.  

You smiled as you read the next bit, having spent the whole of your childhood longing for a pet that you could share some kind of connection with; a cat to curl up in the creases of your duvet, a dog to play with… frankly anything would have done, even a goldfish to swim around in circles in a tank, but your parents had said no. The dream of one just appearing one day had been a near-constant one for you. The little girl in the story discovered that her cat was not a normal cat and was in fact a creature formed from the strange darkness in the chest.  

As she grew, the creature changed shape, eventually taking on the form of a young man. “You’re happy tonight,” he said as the two of them lay on a grassy hillside, gazing up at the stars.  

She reached her hand across and touched his strange, smoky skin. Beneath the twisting mist that surrounded him like an aura, his body was smooth and hard, cool like leather, and as he linked his fingers with hers, she said, “I have you - I have a friend. I’m no longer alone.”

Tears rolled down your face as you finished the story, leaving the little book open in your lap. Never had you felt more alone than in the wake of finishing that strange fairytale. “I wish…” you sniffed, smearing the back of your wrist under your nose. “I wish I wasn’t so alone all the time…” you hissed bitterly, before you began to laugh softly to yourself. Your whole body ached, right down to your bones, and your chest twisted, leaving you feeling wrung-out and empty.  

Heck, you’d probably even have taken a shadow monster yourself for a friend in that moment, and no sooner had you thought it than something moved across the room, startling you out of your tears. Blinking to clear your vision, you watched a shadow growing slowly in the middle of the empty floor, like a spreading puddle. A moment later, you thought your ears must be deceiving you as you heard a soft, rasping voice whisper, “Please don’t cry… I can’t bear to hear you cry.”  

“What?” you breathed, sitting up and staring wide-eyed at the rippling darkness in the centre of the room. Fear clenched your heart so tightly you wanted to scream, but you weren’t sure you had enough voice.  

“Please�� don’t be afraid… I swear I will never hurt you,” the entity murmured, and the surface of the small pool surged and rippled before quietening down.  

“What are you?” you hissed, heart thudding. “How is this happening?”  

“Don’t you remember me?” came the response.  

You stared blankly at the shadow. “Remember you?”  

A gentle smile crept into the voice of the creature you couldn’t quite see, and you heard the voice say, “When we were both very small, we used to play together. I’ve grown up here alongside you.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered as a flood of memories you didn’t know you still had rushed across your mind. “My imaginary friend… I… called you Lamorak…”

“Indeed you did. After one of the knights of Arthur, I believe,” he said, sounding amused at that.  

You paused and then swallowed nervously. “So… if you’re real, then what are you?”

“I… I’m honestly not sure. I believe that I am formed of the shadows in this place, and that I was partly conjured by you when you were young to fulfil the needs of a young child who was often overlooked.”

“But… how is that possible?”

The darkness rippled again and the voice answered, “Magic, most likely. The force of a wish can be pretty powerful, especially in someone very young.”

“Tell me you’re the only one like you that lives here,” you demanded, a twang of anxiety shooting through you at the thought of innumerable shadow beings hiding in every crevice of the house.

“To my knowledge, yes,” he replied.  

“I… I think I remember you in a different shape…” you said after staring for another few seconds at the mass of ebbing shadows on the floor, breathing like an ocean on a sandy shore. It was true, though you hadn’t thought about Lamorak for years. Your mother had dismissed your talk of the shadow boy for childish fantasy, and you’d started to see and think of him less and less after that. Forgotten, he had apparently banished himself back to the shadows of the house but had never left. Something about that made your heart hurt all over again.  

He chuckled and said, “I take many shapes now.”

“Do you have a favourite?” you asked shyly, realising that you were no longer afraid.  

After a little pause, he asked, “Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless with excitement for the first time in a long time.  

The shape began to shift and move, rising up and filling the space in the centre of the room to a height of six and half feet or so; it was difficult to be sure because the shadows that surrounded him like an aura were constantly moving. There was a part of his ill-defined silhouette that was clearly his head, and from it, four milky, silvery eyes blinked at you, all slightly out of sync. From his broad shoulders down, he got stranger and even less humanoid; his arms looked more like tentacles, writhing slightly, and as you continued to stare at him from your bed, you realised that there were more of them behind him, and the two which were most prominent were just the largest of them. His legs too were not humanoid, but were a seething mass of tentacles, some thick, others almost wispy, ending in tiny coils of mist like candle smoke.  

“Wow…”

“You’re not the only one who’s changed a bit,” he chuckled and you warmed to his dry sense of humour instantly.  

“Yeah, but you were supposed to be my imaginary friend… Emphasis on ‘imaginary’…! Come here,” you smiled and he obliged, if somewhat tentatively.  

“Not so imaginary after all,” Lamorak breathed as he neared you, shadows frothing and roiling around his lower tentacles like waves around sea-kelp. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted as he drew to a halt in front of you.

You got slowly to your feet and stood beside your bed, dwarfed by his presence, but instead of being intimidated by him, your stomach twisted and you began to cry again.  

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning down and bringing a soft-looking tentacle to your face. He drew the very tip of it across your cheek, and you watched the shape of his eyes change from almost completely round, like giant pearls, to pinched tight at the outer corners, as if worried. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I feel awful that I forgot you… I… I didn’t know how much I missed you too…” you sobbed, and in a heartbeat you felt his arms wrap around your body. Darkness enveloped you and you let it consume you utterly.  

The peaceful thum-thum of his heartbeat was all you could hear for a moment, before a different noise rose around you. Gentle whispers, like spring leaves tickled by a soft breeze, filled your ears and mind, and when you lurched back, suddenly recalling having heard them before in moments alone in your room, he cocked his head to one side and shrank back. “Did I hug you too tightly?” he asked, half joking, half worried.  

You shook your head. “You’ve always been here, haven’t you?”

He shrugged slightly, all the tentacles on his right side heaving and shifting. “I’ve mostly been dormant in the basement,” he admitted. “But I have come to see you sometimes. When you’re lonely, you call to me. I don’t think you know you’re doing it though.”

“The whispers…?” you asked.  

“I think it’s these,” he said, first looking at one tentacle and then bringing more up to touch your cheek again, and you shuddered violently as sparks of inexpressible joy flashed across your whole body. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you said, another tear escaping your eye. “I… I don’t understand…”

“Understand what?”

“Why that feels so good…?” you admitted. “It’s… I… Is there something wrong with me?”

In an instant, he had picked you up in his arms and sat you down on your bed. “No,” he reassured you, even as he drew back slightly to give you a little room to breathe. “No, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just… alone.”

“Why did you show yourself to me tonight?” you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the way your hands were trembling and your skin felt suddenly too tight all over.  

Lamorak gestured at the bed beside you and said, “May I sit?”

“Sure.”

He leaned in close and nudged his side against your shoulder; it was the gesture a familiar friend might make and it brought a lightness to your chest. He was still tall and you also liked the way you had to look up at him. “You’re hurting but you’ve stopped noticing. You felt it all over again tonight when you read that story, and… well… I felt it too.”

The aching in your chest redoubled and you leaned into his welcoming darkness. “It’s like my wish came true,” you breathed.  

“May I hold you?” he asked in a voice as gentle as velvet.  

When you nodded and whimpered, “Please,” he drew you easily into his lap, as if you were still a child, and allowed his dark tentacles to hold you while you curled up against him.  

“Lamorak,” you smiled as exhaustion washed over you and you let him stroke your cheek and your hair until you drifted off to sleep.  

He came to you night after night following that first reunion on your birthday. Six months later and your grades had gone up, you’d become marginally more confident and sociable at university, and you’d been invited to three people’s birthday events.  

Returning after the latest one, you shot down the corridor and into your bedroom. Going still as you reached the middle of the room, you looked around. “Lamorak?” you whispered and the darkness beside the wardrobe coalesced into his familiar, tentacled form as he stepped out to greet you. “I had so much fun tonight!” you grinned, elated and buzzing. “Thank you for encouraging me to go!”

“I can feel it,” he chuckled, approaching and lifting your chin. “You look happy.”

Easily you stepped into his arms, but something felt different that night. The bond between you and this shadow creature suddenly drew taut as a bowstring and your heart began to pound as you sensed the slight change. “Lamorak,” you gasped as his tentacles touched your neck and throat with searing affection, yet more winding around your waist and thighs. “Oh my god… that’s… that…”

“You want me to stop?” he purred in your ear.  

“No!” you gasped, and a tentacle slithered up your spine, beneath your clothes.  

Shaking, you tipped back into his hold and let him carry you to the bed. “I want you,” he said. “I want to show you how much I love you…”

“Please…” you hissed, throwing your head back as his shadows skimmed under your bra and brushed over your nipple. “Please…!”

Slowly, with the reverence of a pilgrim at a shrine, he undressed you, taking care to keep caressing you all the while with his many other tentacles. His four, pearlescent eyes blinked rapidly, though none of them at the same time, and as he worked you closer and closer, delving inside you and circling your clit enough to make you gasp and moan and cry out against his dark body, you caught a glimpse of his mouth for the very first time. A long, horizontal slit in the blackness of his face opened up, revealing a maw of pointed teeth, and a black tongue, long and languid.  

He dragged it over your thighs and stomach, over your hips, and finally down to enjoy the taste of you. Again and again his tongue savoured you and sent waves of pleasure throughout your whole body until you almost forgot how to breathe and your skin felt aflame.  

“Perfect,” he moaned against your body and you felt the echo of it in your mind. The constant whispering of the shadows around his tentacles rose to a cacophony as you bucked and heaved, heat coiling inside you.  

“I’m…” you cried out just before you came.  

Lamorak held you while you clenched and heaved, stroking you tenderly all the while, caressing you and kissing you until you finally fell back into the sheets beneath you. Your body was wrung out and tingling all over, and every time he moved even a little bit, you twitched again. He gave you kisses and told you in hoarse whispers how beautiful you were.  

“Don’t leave me,” you whimpered as he adjusted his tentacled embrace around you, and he washed slowly back over your body in a tide of darkness.  

“Shh,” he crooned. “I’m here. I’m always here for you. As long as you need me, I’m here. And I’m always yours.”

With those words echoing in your mind, you drifted quietly to sleep, naked in the safety of his arms.

—

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[alchemist-shizun]

Why and wherefore

Ts taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry @pistachio-lan @roses-bubbles (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Specific fic taglist: @princessnoodlebug @pinkie-does-fandoms @punsandpodcasts @aceacebaby12345 @not-so-daily-deceit-doodles @pleasantpostmoon @justanotherfanderwriter @mudpuddlenl @sapphic-nd  @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @sar-kasstic

Word Count: 2,662

Characters: Mainly Deceit, Virgil and Remus, other sides and Thomas are there briefly.

Pairing(s): Everything's platonic babes

Warning(s): Paranoia, anxiety, angst, crying, fear of abandonment, overthinking, internalizing emotions (tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: Necklaces shared for a never ending friendship. One that paused, but never stopped glowing under dark cloth. And one that, eventually, will shine in the light again.

A/N: Oof I'm so late! Happy birthday to Deceit, this is in his honour, of course I could only gift him angst. I hope y'all like it, it didn't turn out how I expected it to, but maybe you can appreciate it more than me. That said, enjoy!

✾

❝ Take your time, take it from me.

It ain't yours, and nothing comes free.

I'll keep your time 'til someone can see,

When the beat hits your feet,

Aren't you lost and lonely? ❞

Thump, thump, thump.

Virgil jolted up, despite being awake for as long as he had tried to put himself to sleep. No matter how hard he forced his eyes and mind to shut, his breathing and heartbeat wouldn't slow down.

What if, his thoughts told him, driving him sick, what if they abandoned you?

He brought his hands to his face and dug his nails onto his forehead as though to shut that voice up.

They did already, didn't they? Virgil growled, not wanting to believe that, you're in the dark by yourself. They don't want you. You're alone.

That one last line stuck with him and replayed everywhere, in front of him, written on the walls, on the stars. Howling in the wind there was loneliness.

His only loyal companion.

Tears had just started streaming down his face when the door of his room opened with a soft click.

Virgil looked at his side and found Deceit turning on his bedside lamp before focusing on the kid half-trembling on the mattress.

« Hey, sweetie. » his melodious voice had an instant calming down effect.

He reached out and moved from his face a lock of hair which was hiding his eyes. Virgil sniffed one last time.

« Had a nightmare? » Deceit's tone changed to a bittersweet one.

This kid shook his head and gripped at the covers tighter.

« Are you going to leave? »

« Oh, Virgil. » Deceit's expression possibly softened more, he then took Virgil's hands and smiled at him, capturing his attention with his eyes. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. » he reassured.

But Virgil wasn't convinced. He stopped crying, yet his gaze fell to the ground.

Deceit looked around, searching for something to spark an idea into him.

« Listen here. » he finally said, gaining a glance from Virgil. « Would you like something to remind you I'll always be here? »

Anxiety seemed to genuinely reflect, he would have made a good use of a material object for when he couldn't reach out to anyone.

He nodded.

« How about this? » Deceit cupped his hands, everything around his palms and fingers glowed of a bright light that blinded both of their eyes.

As it died, it revealed two necklaces with different coloured and shaped pendants, one of a two-headed snake and a storm cloud with a lightning bolt.

Deceit handed Virgil the yellow one. « You can have my symbol, so it can comfort you whenever you need me. » he asserted. The kid let the necklace fall gently in his palms, eyes widened with the surprise of such a treasure.

« Are they like the bracelets you and Remus share? » he questioned while his fingers worked on undoing the lock of his new accessory.

Deceit helped him in the process until it finally hanged around his neck. « Sort of. » he allowed with a small nod.

He smiled to himself as Virgil admired the pendant.

« As for me, » he then continued, undoing his own storm cloud necklace. « I'll wear this for as long as you're important to me. » his hand lingered on the purple cloud. « Which I know is a time that will never end. »

Virgil smiled softly and surged forwards to wrap his arms around Deceit's chest. The other returned the hug, maybe a bit tighter than needed, such was his fondness for the side.

« Do you need me to stay for the night? »

« No, it's okay. » Virgil loosened the embrace, then brushing the chain of his necklace. « I have you here, anyway. » he laid back down on his bed, satisfied with the gift.

After kissing his forehead and tucking his sheets, Deceit wished him a goodnight and went back to tend to his own tasks in the peace of the night.

✾

Deceit couldn't understand.

They had worn them proudly for years.

No matter what they were doing, where they were going, their necklaces were always with them, or at least by their side.

So he couldn't understand it when Virgil had come back to the dark sides' living room with no sign of the trademark yellow snake shining on his shirt.

It had brought Deceit's mood down, especially when Anxiety so nonchalantly talked to him and Remus, not realizing his deed.

Yet, he didn't speak up about it.

He simply bit his tongue and tasted bitter displeasure.

It wasn't like the end of the world was upon him, and maybe that didn't mean anything at all or perhaps he had really been overthinking it too much.

But what if he was right?

Or still completely wrong: it could have meant a completely positive thing! Virgil didn't need reassurance anymore, he didn't need a constant reminder anymore, he didn't … need him anymore.

So the tormenting feeling loomed over Deceit before he was able to defeat it entirely.

Multiple questions of inevitable impending doom filled his thinking loud enough for him to be unable to follow the conversation.

He was clearly overreacting, wasn't he?

Virgil had noticed his change in demeanour over time, the almost imperceptible shift he had made.

He asked Deceit whether he was okay or not, called him back into the conversation when he zoned out, tried to confront him on multiple occasions with no success whatsoever.

He had also stopped him once, tugging at his sleeve before he could get away. Virgil was used to do that, always too timid to speak up first.

Deceit turned to face him, who calmly stared back at him, trying his best to mask his suspicion.

« What's wrong? » Virgil's voice was so low it struggled to come out.

Deceit shrugged. « I don't know. Everything's okay. » as much as lying was his thing, he had refrained from doing it during a serious conversation before.

« I'm not so sure about that. » Anxiety's gaze fell to the floor.

« You think there's something wrong? »

« I guess, I mean- you … » he gesticulated, unable to express himself.

« So it's me. » who would've thought.

« I don't know! » Virgil's tone got louder with exasperation. « You're just so off lately. »

« Care to elaborate? » Deceit squinted his eyes, sounding neutral as ever, which never let Virgil understand whether he was stepping in the right or wrong direction.

« You don't tell me what's on your mind anymore. » there it was. « You avoid any conversation about your feelings or issues, just like you were doing right now. » Virgil's mouth scrunched. « It's like you don't trust me. Like everything changed at once and … I don't know. » he was wearing the necklace that day. Deceit found it hypocritical. « Did I do something wrong? »

« No. »

« Then what is it? » he urged, he couldn't just roam in the oblivion much longer.

« It's nothing, like I told you. » Deceit's own voice got higher, but kept up the act. There was no way he was going to let him know.

Virgil brushed his hands on his face, defeated. « Do you just want me to leave you alone? » he finally asked, eyes slightly wider.

« Yes! »

Silence. Silence because Deceit thought he could have stopped himself when he didn't. When he should have.

And he was going to regret it.

« Okay. » Virgil murmured and stood up from his seat. « Alright. » he left the room without sparing a single glance for him.

Deceit blinked multiple times and reached for his pendant, which was now digging in his palm. There was a slight shot of pain while he reminded himself that it was just a bad day and Virgil was going to forget and those tears pooling in his eyes weren't necessary and he could have let his emotions go numb so he couldn't suffer.

He let go of the pendant, breathed out deeply and everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

✾

Remus had been helpful. Truly helpful, if only Deceit wasn't so stubborn.

He tried to get help, get suggestions and then never acted on them. Which then became his point to never ask for opinions: why would you let others down with your inaction when you could just … bottle it up and never bring it up again?

Deceit was going to learn why it was wrong the hard way.

Remus had suggested to talk to Virgil, let him know of all his paranoid thoughts, and he was kind of convinced.

But when the air felt too cold and constricting around them whenever they were together, it was simply impossible.

And it was also too late.

There was a door they never opened, one that led to the light sides' part of the mindscape.

That day, Virgil opened it and he wasn't wearing his usual clothes, nor the necklace.

Remus and Deceit stared at him, one in silent disbelief, the other was … too indescribable.

« Are you going to leave? » said like a mother to a son on a Saturday night, but with a completely different meaning.

Virgil stared back at Deceit with a dull expression, the same neutral glare that had glanced back at him until then. « I don't think you should wear that necklace anymore. »

He closed the door behind himself and left the sore aura to dawn on the remaining sides.

« Dee? »

Deceit was staring ahead of himself.

There, he had ruined everything. Not only he had just lost Virgil, but also disappointed Remus for not following his suggestions.

« Deceit? »

He was going to be mad, he was going to fight with him and then leave too.

You wanted to be left alone, didn't you?

« Hoi. » Deceit looked up at him and realized he was pushing the pendant into his skin again.

With a swift movement, he pulled the necklace to the side and broke the chain free from his neck, then threw it and let it fall onto the other side of the couch.

Deceit got up and marched to his room.

Remus picked up the necklace, a sour look still painting his face with bitterness; he started to fix the chain and ultimately sighed.

« When are you going to give a proper reaction? »

He left the necklace by his room and then headed to the imagination.

There was a lot of stuff he needed to vent.

✾

Not many days had passed. However, they were all the same and neither had gotten used to it.

Deceit was at the kitchen counter, like every other morning, and Remus was trying to get his attention, like in every other interaction they had.

« You're not wearing your necklace? »

« No. » Deceit's moves were almost mechanical, his voice low, half-lidded eyes careless of where they set upon.

« Lies. » Remus reached out and gently pulled the chain out from under Deceit's clothes. « You're also internalizing everything. »

« I'm not. »

« Lies, yet again. » he got up from his seat and faced him, forcing Deceit to focus on him. He put his hands on Deceit's shoulders. « Are you okay, D? »

« Of course. » he heard his voice crack, maybe those were tears in his eyes and for only an instant Remus hoped he could make him open up.

« You don't only speak in lies, huh? »

Remus pulled him in a hug that could have only grown tighter. Deceit felt his entire body shake before he returned it and sank into the embrace, gripping at his back like a lifesaver.

He hiccuped, then sobbed and cried out any and all negative emotions that were poisoning his insides.

Deceit buried his head in the other's clothes so to not see his own reality and be aware of his current condition.

What was really good of Remus, was that he really didn't care much about certain trivial things. He didn't care when his clothes got wet with tears, he didn't care if Deceit spoke through hiccups, if he was barely able to stand on his feet.

« It just … » Remus had led him to sit on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands. « It feels like he left something here. »

« What do you mean? »

Deceit showed a sad smile. « I've kept driving myself anxious because of all the paranoid thoughts that never leave my mind. » he explained, staring at the white swirls in his tea. « It just feels like he's around. »

« Like when he couldn't control his powers when he first came here. » Remus chuckled.

« Yeah, and Orange started being afraid of everything. » a genuine smile spread on Deceit's lips.

Dark Creativity snorted. « He was scared of his own shade! » he couldn't help but burst out in a boisterous laughter, infecting his friend.

Which then led to tears. « Holy fuck. » Remus's own smile faltered and he wiped away the tears, though more came, and he found himself crying, too.

Deceit extended an arm out to him, inviting him to sit next to him.

They were silent for a while, letting the realization sink in.

« Will Orange leave his room anytime soon? »

« I don't know. »

« Should we check on him? »

« Yeah, let's. »

« And also, » Remus's expression returned serious altogether as he got up. « I think we should start showing up to Thomas. »

✾

Joy, joy and satisfactory bliss he almost couldn't believe he had reached.

Deceit was looking at five smiling faces and they were staring back at him with no bad intent, with no subtext of conflict.

It wasn't a dream, it wasn't an act and it wasn't a lie. This time, he had done it.

Thomas had finally accepted him as a true necessary part of himself and he had managed to resolve his issues with the other sides.

He still almost couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe how those happy and proud gazes were all directed to him, and yet he could have bathed in the sunshine happiness radiating from each of them.

« Lying can be good. » Thomas asserted, nodding and still smiling, his look soft and welcoming, his hands clasped together in an unordinary position. « I know you're looking out for me now. Thank you. »

Deceit breathed out, enjoying this new state of comfort he was going to adapt to. He didn't know what to say anymore, he didn't even realize he could have gotten that far.

But it was okay, because when he intercepted Virgil's eyes, he noticed he wanted to talk to him.

Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again and squint his eyes at the ground. Okay, he thought, I can do this.

He reached for something under his shirt and pulled out the necklace Deceit had gifted him that one night when he had needed him most. And he was there for him.

Just as much as Virgil was now there for him to support the new perspective they had of him.

Deceit's hand ghosted over his own necklace, at which he started tugging afterwards. « You're wearing it? » he looked in the exact amount of disbelief as the others, only that the others' leaned to confusion, while his own was a firework of contentment.

Virgil smiled wider. « I never stopped. »

And then, seeing Deceit's expression growing more incredulous, he added, echoing the other's own old words. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. »

This time, the one to be convinced, despite the tears in his eyes, was Deceit.

[maraudererasmut]

what kinds of things did you do when you were first practicing digital drawing? did you use reference images? where did you find them? anything you would recommend to a baby drawer with a short attention span for instructions?

Well, first and foremost, I’m gonna take a moment to do a little fangirl wiggle, because I’m a huge fan of your work! Thank you for messaging me! 

I’m gonna include a lot of info here, so bear with me! I’ll try to break it down so that it’s easy to understand, but if anyone ha any questions, feel free to ask!

The absolute most important thing for starting out drawing is practice. 

You’re going to hear it from everyone, everywhere, but it’s so very true. When I first started digital drawing, I made sure to use my tablet every single day. Now, that doesn’t mean I spend three hours each day trying to do something amazing; some days I only had a few minutes here and there, but I’d try to sketch something rough, something loose, maybe just a doodle. Maybe it’s a face one day, maybe it’s just a bunch of swirls and stars the next. It doesn’t matter what you draw, as long as you are developing the habit of drawing! No matter what it is you are doing, you’re learning! Playing with brushes to see how they feel on your new drawing program? Learning! Trying to see if one way of colouring is better than another? Learning! Drawing the same nose over and over and over again until you like what you see? Also learning!

Another key step to learning to draw is to identify what you like!

What does that mean? Well, look at other artists who inspire you! Why does their work appeal to you? What is it about their drawings that you LOVE? Once you realize what it is that makes something beautiful to you, you know what to practice and how to learn to adopt that into your own style!

@burdge is an excellent example for illustrating this. They are a fandom artist that has been around for so long, nearly every fandom artist I know has been inspired by them in one way or another!

So what is it about Burdge’s art that I love? I love the closeness that’s portrayed, and the softness. But those are very arbitrary things that are difficult to identify and even more challenging to implement. I love the noses. I love the proportions. I love the hairlines! I love the body movement! Those are things that are a bit easier to pick out and start practicing!

This leads so well into my next point:

It is okay to copy someone else’s work if it’s for practice!

Let’s break this one down, just to ensure that nobody accidentally misinterprets what I’m saying: It is okay to copy someone else’s work if it’s for practice. It is NOT okay to copy someone else’s work and post it, claiming it as your own! If you use a reference picture, generally speaking, most artists will post which reference they use, but I know that I often forget to do that as well! But using a reference picture is different than copying. 

When you copy someone’s work, what you’re really doing is working on identifying what you love about it. You’re practicing drawing in their style! And that’s totally fine! When you’re first starting out, it’s actually really helpful to be able to use someone else’ expertise and practice to guide you to draw something you love! A lot of people have it in their heads that copying = bad. And sometimes it does. But I think it’s important for new artists to get rid of that notion in their heads. Practice is practice. When you practice cooking, you copy other people’s recipes! You’re not going to post those recipes online and say you created them, but you CAN feed them to your friends and you CAN eat them yourself! And if you do post pictures of your food? You can say whose recipe you used and thank them for a great meal! 

We were all starting at one point, and every artist I know started by copying something. 

Use reference pictures! Use them liberally! References are helpful!

Yes, some artists are so good that they do not need reference pictures. That’s fine. Good for them! I’m very proud of them!

When you’re first starting out, you don’t have to worry about that! Don’t get into your own head and tell yourself “Real artists do XYZ, blah blah blah, etc.” None of that is helpful. Use whatever is available to help you improve!

Now the question is what actually makes good reference pictures? Well, everyone uses something a little different. Some people use faces of famous actors, some people use stock photos, some people use other people’s drawings that are specifically made for references! 

What do I do? I save every single photo I come across that inspires me into a folder. I have tons of folders labeled “Reference: Pose” or “Reference: Remus” or “Reference: Gay”. (That one is smut references. :3 )

I use blogs like @posereference and @fantasyartistreference, which I follow on here! I’ve gone through their content and saved photos that I think will inspire me in the future. Sometimes I don’t do anything with them. Sometimes I use them! 

I also take advantage of stock photos. That includes ones that adobe puts onto the internet as well as ones that other artists put! Senshi Stock on Deviant art is an excellent resource that has made a TON of photos available to artists to use for FREE! 

Google is also my friend! I like to google terms like “Couple Pose Reference” or “Couple Kissing”. If you include search terms like “pose reference” you often find that you get things specifically created for artists to use to help with poses!

Look at all the helpful poses! 

Now, this leads us to my next point:

How to use reference images

Everyone does this part differently, too! I’m going to show a few different examples. Let’s use this amazing reference sheet by @kibbi as our example!

Some people like to have their reference photo beside their drawing space, to use for them to look at, simply as a guide:

Some people like to have their pose reference in a layer beneath their actual drawing on a lower opacity so that they can trace right over it:

Often times, what you end up doing is using your traced sketch as your base for your drawing, with your actual drawing over top of it. Essentially, you’re using this time to identify what you DO like about the reference pose and what you DON’T like about it, and changing it!

See how different it’s looking already? I put my own style over top of it, but I used the pose as a reference because I really liked it!

((EDIT: I JUST REALIZED THAT I GAVE SIRIUS THREE ARMS. I AM SO SORRY, GUYS!!!!))

Side by side comparison for the curious:

Eventually, a time will come where you can do simple poses like this without the use of a reference. That’s amazing! You will be so proud of yourself! But if you still need to use references for complicated poses or foreshortening, remember not to beat yourself up about it. It is OKAY to use reference poses, and it is OKAY to take advantage of resources that are available to you! Just try to remember to cite your sources, just like we all did in school! :P

Practice Anatomy

Try doing things like figure drawing! Use sites like Quick Poses to give yourself a timed figure drawing session, if you’re up for it! The more you practice bodies and anatomy, the better you will get at drawing them! Don’t focus too much on anything being perfect; remember to say loose and just aim for general shapes and general proportions.

This isn’t the greatest example, because I didn’t do any dynamic poses, but here are some rough figure sketches:

See how loose I was? See how little I cared about it looking nice? That’s the best way to start a sketch! Just with loose scribbles!

The same thing can apply to faces:

Learn the rules, and then learn when to break them!

Just like writing, where you have “rules” for writing an essay, in drawing, you have rules for anatomy! But… I don’t always love to follow those rules. It’s important to understand human anatomy (if you plan to draw humans), and then figure out where you want things to be exaggerated in order to create your own style! Here’s an example:

The same rules apply to musculature! It’s important to understand what muscles go where and how they move in order to properly draw them consistently! However! That is something a bit more complicated that we can go into another time! I don’t think that would be included in my simple break-down of drawing!

And… last but not least…

Have fun!

You’d think this one would go without saying, but I’m going to specify it anyway. If you are NO LONGER enjoying drawing what you’re drawing, STOP. Don’t just draw humans because I told you to practice anatomy! If you’re not having fun, you’re going to grow to resent it, and we don’t want that! Draw whatever it is that you want! If you want to draw the same two men hugging over and over and over and over and over (Case in point: my entire blog), you do that! Ignore everything I said about knowing anatomy and about reference pictures and about anything! Just do exactly what makes you happy, nothing more and nothing less. Practicing should be fun, and the moment it’s no longer fun, you’ll begin to lose your passion. So… move on to something else that’s fun! Tired of drawing Wolfstar? (Pfff, that’s impossible, but okay). Move on to Drarry! Or to Linny! Or to a different fandom! Or to flowers! Or to still life! Or to whatever you think will bring back that spark!

Because that’s what drawing is all about. It’s just another form of expression and another way to have fun!

ANYWAY! I know this was SUPER long! I hope it was at least somewhat helpful! I’m not an expert, not by any means, but I enjoy doing this, and I am still working on improving! If anyone has any more questions, shoot me a message!

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: the Journey - Scene 23

And with a lengthy little scene, we have moved away from the exposition for now. Or at least most of it. Rosy still has some exposition to give every scene just due to the story structure, but we actually have things getting started started again in this scene so i hope everyone enjoys...

    ~The biggest thing I love about adventuring is all the new people I meet and all of the wonderful places that I see. Sometimes though the people I meet need help, or just want a favor in exchange for a service. Tee-hee~♥ This time the people I met are little meaner though.

    ~To people who rely on Rings, they are irreplaceable. They do so much, and we rely on them so much. I don’t even think I really thought about it until I ended up in these strange lands with that little planet watching me every day. When I first discovered that most people here didn’t trust Rings it was so unnatural. Yet to them it was perfectly normal. Or so I thought until I met the Engineers.

    ~They were the first people here who actually used Rings like I was used to, but when Rings are treated as bad, they have to keep it a secret. It makes Ring Thieves even worse than they are back home. Stealing Rings is so hurtful, even helping a Ring Thief will get you hurt. I’ll have to talk Gill into changing his way of life when I finally catch up with him.

    ~Fortunately, though I was afraid that knowing Gill would have lost me an opportunity to catch up with Zooey, the cloud sailors were very understanding. They just didn’t trust me, or Draw, so they sent us out on a little quest to prove that we were trustworthy.

    ~Hmph! I think it’s ridiculous since they saw the photo with me and Zooey both in it. It should be obvious. But Gill did steal Rings from them, so it makes sense to help them gather Rings. I’m kind of excited too as I haven’t had a Ring gathering job in what feels like forever! Hee-hee! It’s what I used to do back home so it’s a nice little reminder of who I am. Which is fortunate too under the circumstances.~

    An airship that was barely more than a deck, cabins, and a hold wrapped around a metal balloon and further wrapped in sails, rigging, propellers, and wings soared across the jagged terrain. The mountains were unusual in that they almost appeared like domino tiles that had fallen on top of each other. The geography resulted in the top side of the mountains being covered as far as the eye could see in lush grasslands where sheep roamed, and Rings spun about on their axes arranged in any number of patterns. Despite being high enough for clouds to drift across the meadows the temperature was warm and balmy. From the deck railing Rosy watched the scenery passing by below with a huge and excited smile.

    “Ooh~! It’s so perfect! There are so many places to run, and so many Rings too! I bet there are all sorts of interesting things to find down below the cliffs too!”

    “You’re awfully excited considering they’re making you do their work,” Draw looked at Rosy wryly before a smirk adorned his face. With a shrug he closed his eyes and turned away. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when dealing with a weirdo girl like you.”

    “How many times do I have to tell you stop calling me names!”

    Rosy complained and Draw snickered before Rosy stuck her tongue out in retaliation. It earned them both a good laugh, but Rosy felt it would be rude not answer the implied question from her koala companion. Wiping a tear from her eye she explained her excitement.

    “Believe it or not, but this is what I did back home,” Rosy demonstrated vaguely drawing a doodle in the air with a finger. “My job was to collect Rings and I went all over the place doing it. Me and my best friend. Ooh~ I haven’t seen Tails in forever and I miss him so much. I really hope he’s okay.”

    “I’m surprised you haven’t forgotten him with how long you’ve been searching. It seems like something you���d forget.”

    Hopping off the railing, Rosy sat down on the deck beside Draw and pulled her knees to her chin. It made her look very small, even next to the younger and smaller koala.

    As Draw continued to clean his bow, he looked at Rosy wondering if she was upset about something. The mischievous grin she wore hidden behind her knees told him otherwise and he leaned in closer as she motioned to him with a wave of her hand.

    “Well that’s the thing,” Rosy whispered excitedly, her wagging tail thudding against the deck giving away her enthusiasm. “I’ve noticed that the things I’m most likely to forget are things that aren’t associated with what I normally do. I think that’s why it’s so important for everyone to have the defined roles that they do. It helps you stay you, I think. But adventuring is what I do, and what my friends do too so most of those memories are just kind of fuzzy now, but I can still remember them. That’s why I’m not worried about helping the Engineers out.”

    “I get it,” Draw contemplated as he absently rubbed down his bow. “They aren’t trying to have you repay the stolen Rings, they’re trying to use how everyone always forgets things to make you loyal to them.”

    “That’s what I was thinking too,” Rosy beamed as Draw had caught on. “But I know it won’t work on either of us. First and foremost, I know that the Rings will always remember. Secondly, they think we’re dumb because we’re kids.”

    “Well you’re certainly a weirdo girl,” Draw countered Rosy’s attempts to build up their confidence. She puffed up her cheeks at him and he simply flashed her another playful smirk. He did not prompt her to go off topic however and stayed quiet.

    “But they shouldn’t look down on us like that. I know you’ll be fine too because practicing to hunt golems is what you do, and I’ll be fine because I’m going to be doing what I always do. They won’t beat us so easily, and we’ll still help them and get to hear more about where Zooey is.”

    ~I felt like my belief was spot on. Why wouldn’t it be? This strange land may steal people’s memories, but I’ve been doing my best to pay attention and protect my precious memories as best as I could. I had gotten Draw involved too so it was important that I protect his memories too. The thing is though, I wasn’t prepared for how bored I was going to be. And after it looked so exciting too.

    ~Overlooking one of the best views I ever saw of the wide openness of the world was a weird little tower that was as much a part of an old ruin as it was something that looked like it grew out of it. It was like a smashed together building built from a windmill, a water tower, a lighthouse, and a giant boiler chimney. There were pipes everywhere and covered almost as much as the ivy and other plants that covered the stone brick building. But there was nothing else of interest.

    ~A kitchen, bedrooms, and a lookout post. Even the weird little arch that served as the airship port was just quaint. The old guy who worked at what they called an Engineer’s waystation was nice enough too, but he laid down a very strict rule about never going further out than he could see. And so, by the afternoon of my second day there, I was so bored and turned desperately to Draw to help me chase away the boredom.~

    “It’s your fault for collecting the Rings so fast,” Draw remarked dismissively as he fired off a practice shot into a target he carved into the side of an old tree within the outer wall of the ruin that held the waystation.

    “I know, but I get so excited!” Rosy whined. “It really is like back home. Rings show up in random places and patterns every day and I just can’t help myself. It’s so much fun but being limited on where I can run makes it so boring. I know they don’t trust me, but it’s still unfair.”

    “And why do you think I can change their minds?” Draw asked as he fired off another arrow.

    “I don’t,” Rosy admitted as she clasped her hands behind her back and began swaying her body back and forth. “I was just hoping you could help me chase off my boredom for a little bit.”

    “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Draw asked as he eyed Rosy wearily.

    Her cheeks puffing up, Rosy energetically defended herself. “It isn’t anything bad! Really! I just want to practice my fortune telling. I may consult the cards every morning, but I know so many other ways of reading fortunes too. Like I can do a really simple one right here and now. All I need is for you to show me you hand.

    “And if I say I don’t want to?” Draw challenged.

    “Don’t be like that!” Rosy fussed and snagged Draw’s hand in both of hers.

    “Why do you care about my future anyway?” Draw pressed as he yanked his hand away, not noticing that Rosy drew her thumbs along his palm as he did. “Or do you think I can’t beat your golem–?”

    Draw stopped short as he noticed Rosy’s mischievous grin had returned and he frowned in disgust and fear. “What did you just do?”

    “Nothing,” Rosy swayed playfully, teasing the poor koala. “Just read your fortune is all~♥”

    “What! That easily?”

    “I’m really good at it,” Rosy laughed as she shook a playful finger at the bewildered Draw.

    “No way! What did you learn!”

    “Well…,” Rosy started enthusiastically, but she seemed a bit perplexed and looked down at her thumbs. Draw swallowed loudly afraid something bad lay in store for him, but Rosy dismissed it as she reached into one of the shoulder puffs of her leotard. “It’s kind of confusing so I’m going to ask my cards to help clarify for me.”

    Without missing a beat, Rosy flopped onto the ground, her legs forming a “W” like shape in front of her as she withdrew the small waterproof container. Carefully extracting her tarot cards Rosy split the deck and paused a moment before shuffling. Giggling, she lay the two halves on the ground in front of her. “I better give them a Ring first. I don’t want them getting worn out. They’re my oldest friends you know.”

    Draw gave Rosy a doubting look, but she ignored him and cheerily pushed a Ring into her cards. With a twinkle of golden motes of light, the Ring vanished as quickly as it had appeared from Rosy’s person. Her cards seemed no different, but it was obvious that they still looked brand new. Testing the snap of the cards Rosy smiled wider as she began to shuffle them.

    It was a mundane action, but a sudden breeze blew one or two free and Rosy gasped in apologetic surprise.

    “Ah! I’m sorry!”

    Scrambling to catch the errant cards, Rosy looked like a child chasing butterflies and Draw hung his head and sighed. The sudden urgency in Rosy’s voice as she spoke to him again though caused him concern as he looked back up at her.

    “Draw, we have to go.”

    “Eh! What!” Draw stepped back surprised, but Rosy’s face was desperate with seriousness. Still, he needed clarification as she hurried to put her cards away. “But if we leave… I mean won’t they never help us find your friend if we go now.”

    “They probably won’t,” Rosy conceded, but did not linger as she offered Draw her back so she might carry him piggyback. “But I know seeing them and how protective they are that Zooey is safe. I want to see her. Really, I do. But… but right now, someone else needs our help and we have to hurry before it’s too late!”

    “How did come up with that?” Draw guffawed at the absurdity of what Rosy claimed.

    “The cards told me!”

    Rosy’s claim baffled Draw even more and he gave her a doubting look and began to mouth a response but Rosy cut him off with a stern look as she forewent an explanation. “I know you don’t believe me, no one ever does at first, but my cards never lie to me. And right now, someone needs our help more than Zooey, so we have to go.”

    “Well… If you… argh! Fine!”

    With a shout Draw gave in and soon found himself whisked away at speeds he could not comprehend across the meadowed mountain sides.

Scene 23 · CLEARED A Tiny Voice, to be continued

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And with that, Rosy is chasing after trouble yet again. Draw seemed to have mellowed out this scene, but hopefully not jarringly so. I definitely need to get some excitability into him again. But we’ll leave that for the future.

Thank you for reading everyone! i hope you enjoyed!

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Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – What Makes the Sky Blue – Tsutomu Narita – Granblu Fantasy Original Soundtrack: Promise

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[tsipasce]

Same Difference, Ch.08

A/N: [ insert “Growth” gif]

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06 | 07

AO3 | Fanfic

The weekend flew by, mostly thanks to the great time she had with Hitomi. Though after Saturday night’s events, Nanami’s only thoughts were on her friend’s suggestion to get self-defense training. Well, that and the cute doodles on a now-bookmarked page in her planner. She smiled to herself remembering that night and the unexpectedly pleasant company. The image of him sitting next to her as they joked brought a warmth to her face she was very reluctant to accept. Snap out of it and focus. She chastised herself as she quickly remembered what had happened earlier that night when she felt she couldn’t defend herself.

Sure it turned out fine, but what if he’d been more aggressive and I was alone? Or what if he had a quirk or got training to use it against people… Nanami didn’t finish the thought but she knew where it led and she was honest enough to admit it scared her. Sunday night she made a list of classes to check out. Usually being a thoughtful shopper, she figured it would be smarter to vet the classes by observing before diving in. She had an hour or so after work before she went to the lab, so why not squeeze in an errand?

Packing up her things, she headed out of the office, pulling up the directions on her phone. After a couple blocks, she arrived in front of a studio with large, glass windows and a dozen or so occupants inside. It wasn’t very long before she realized this wouldn’t be a class where she’d learn much. The “assailant” was really just some poor guy in a thick layer of padding, standing still as the students formed a line to shyly “punch” or “kick” him with all the brutality of a raucous pillow fight. Everyone moved at their own pace, but pragmatic as she was, Nanami knew whatever she learned from this class wouldn’t be enough to repel someone who really meant trouble. After checking out two other classes yielding similar results, she decided to give it a rest for the day and head to the lab. They had a lot of data to analyze from the most recent round of tests, and she wanted to get a leg up on preparations.

Parking in her regular spot, she walked up to the front gates and knocked. She cocked her brow in confusion after waiting for a minute. Where the heck is Kurono… Usually if she was due to arrive at 6:00pm, he’d be in the front room waiting with an extra cup of tea he’d just so happened to have made at 5:45pm. Despite their initial meetings, they’d gotten closer over the past couple months, trading looks when Overhaul was in one of his “moods” and taking breaks together. No one was as meticulous and punctual as Overhaul, but Kurono would definitely be a close second, so seeing him late was surprising. This is odd. Nanami began to think as the door opened and she was greeted by another man she’d seen in passing.

“Good evening, doc. This way, please.”

“Oh, good evening. Lead the way,” she said, brushing off the concern from earlier. It wasn’t unreasonable to think they’d changed schedule every now and then.

The man escorted her to the lab and shut the door, leaving her to some work she was happy to do alone. After Saturday night, she wasn’t completely sure how to interact with her lab partner. Sure they hadn’t necessarily done anything untoward, but it would be a lie to say it was nothing.

Five minutes passed by, then ten… once minute number fifteen rolled around she began to get Worried? Nope. We’re not going there today. It’s probably just “business” or something else shady. If he doesn’t think this research is important, that’s his loss. She convinced herself, a little irritated he’d blown her off without even one of his curt “I’m busy. We’ll speak later” texts. Just as she was about to mentally practice the argument she’d have with him when he finally decided to come in, the door burst open, startling her as she almost dropped the samples she was moving.

Turning towards the door, she saw the angry little Muppet, already preparing to hear some kind of smart remark. Thought everyone else had warmed to her in one way or another, Mimic made it clear the only person worth any courtesy was Overhaul. “Well how can I help you Mimi—”

“Please—please just come with me right now. I don’t have time to explain, just hurry and follow me!”  the small creature shrieked. Well, in a way, he always shrieked, but this time Nanami could hear a desperation she’d only heard during her E.R. days. Switching gears, she knew to drop what she was doing and follow him. Whatever he needed, it was serious.

Racing down the long, winding hallways behind him, she was grateful to have kept in some semblance of shape. Just before she reached her limit, they stopped at a familiar door. Her heart sank, Isn’t this his office? She realized before Mimic quickly opened the door and promptly closed it once they entered. She looked confused as she saw Overhaul lying face down on one of the couches in the office. Kurono was blocking most of her line of sight to him as he was kneeling by his side. Hearing the door close, he looked back, moving out of the way, a grave look on his face. As she took in the scene, she heard a voice croak out “I… I can’t reach...”. She was confused for a moment before she saw there was a sizeable, deep gash across Overhaul’s back and hives, Probably from being touched and carried in here she guessed. By the look of it, she knew even breathing had to be excruciating and even a contortionist would find it challenging to bend their arm behind their back to touch it. Traditional medicine would be a gamble…she thought, as she took off her gloves, resigning herself to the obvious option.

“Alright, lift him up, very gently.”  Nanami commanded firmly, noticing the significant blood loss.

“Touch me again and I’ll kill the lot of you.” He seethed as his subordinates backed away, knowing better than to take the threat lightly.

She tried to think quickly as she needed to see if there were any other injuries before acting. Remembering all the times he’d touched her yet hadn’t broken out, she decided to give it a shot. “Then I’ll do it.” She said resolutely. He mustered up enough strength to turn his head and glare in warning. She cautiously moved forward and knelt beside him to whisper. “You’ve touched me before without breaking out, remember? You and I both know there’s a time limit and the longer your wound is open, the harder it will be to repair. I promise I won’t let anyone else make contact, just let me help you.”

He seemed to accept she was right and that he had no other choice. The warning was still in his eyes, but he nodded reluctantly. Though moving him was a two person job, she knew she’d have to make due. With one of her hands at his head and another along his side she tried to keep his head, neck and back aligned while rolling him onto one side. She tried her best to be careful, but it was hard moving him at all without earning a wince and hiss. Good, it’s just the back. She confirmed noting the lack of blood underneath him as she quickly looked over him before her arms gave out.

Letting him down, she knelt down beside him, assessing the situation. His weak, but at least he’s conscious. I can do this. She reassured herself, not used to having such a captivated audience watching behind her. Usually when she’d used her quirk to fix something so drastic, she’d make sure she was alone with the patient and they were sedated. The Eight Bullets knew about her quirk, but it was still nerve-racking having to perform in front of so many eyes.

“Just do it” he exasperated from behind gritted teeth. He seemed to be bracing himself, but she was confused as to why.

Brushing it off, she took a deep breath, disassembling his shirt to get a better view of the wound. It was as bad, if not worse, than she thought. Within seconds she reconstructed the damaged bones, sinew and then skin until the wound vanished, earning her a sigh of relief from her patient and the onlookers.

“There you go, good as new.” She piped, almost slapping him on the back like a fixed car before stopping herself short and gently patting instead. “Who did this to you?” a note of genuine concern in her voice.

“It doesn’t matter, it was a cheap shot. None of them exist anymore.” He replied too simply for someone who’d probably just murdered multiple someones. Nanami never forgot what he was, but it didn’t make the regular confirmation any easier. “Kurono, Mimic: Leave us.” He added, now moving himself to rise from the couch.

They filed out of the room, Kurono looking back, giving her a small nod and thankful glance before closing the door behind them. Turning her attention back to him, Overhaul was already at the closet in his office, putting on another, identical shirt. Knew it. She thought remembering her theory about his wardrobe.

He continued buttoning it up, his back turned to her as he began,” How did you do that?”

“Um… the same way you do?” She replied, perplexed as to what he meant. She’d disclosed most of what she was able to do with their shared quirk already, and he’d shown that he knew how to heal himself. She’d become leagues more cooperative and transparent during their research, so the question caught her off guard.

“No, you don’t. It’s been a long day, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you gave up this little act and just explained it to me.”

“I... I don’t know what you mean…” Ok now I’m really confused…

He turned around, an obvious look of suspicion in his eyes, “I won’t ask again.”

Nanami was taken aback, insulted,” So I save your ass and in return I get an interrogation?”

“First of all, it was my back, not my ass. Secondly, I only interrogate uncooperative parties, so cooperate and explain how you healed me like that?” he intoned, now stalking towards her, an accusatory look still in his eyes.

“Like how? I have literally no idea what you mean!” Genuinely confused at why he was so angry with her all the sudden, she was really hoping he’d throw her a bone here.

“Without the pain!”

“…the what?” She looked at him searchingly before realizing what he meant, a pained and slightly embarrassed look on his face. Her tense stance relaxed before continuing, “Have you… just been feeling it all the entire time?”

“You haven’t?”

“Hell no,” she shot back before continuing, thinking out loud, “To feel every singular cell being ripped apart and put back together every time? That would be…” His eyes were no longer meeting hers, his jaw tightening, “…unbearable.”

Clinically, she knew they utilized their quirk differently, but seeing the real-world effects was another thing entirely. Of course, someone who’d grown up only weaponizing their quirk wouldn’t think about minimizing pain, and conversely someone who’d used it almost exclusively for healing would prioritize comfort. If it had just been a theory she’d concocted in a vacuum, she’d probably think it was fascinating, but now it just seemed… Sad. Knowing he’d been in that kind of pain for so long caused an aching in her chest.

“Do not pity me.” He seethed, misjudging the look on her face.

“What? No. Look, I know this may be a novel concept for you, but there is such a thing as empathy.”

“I have no use for that either.”

“You sure did a couple minutes ago when you were bleeding out.”

“Yes, and you were useful, as most tools are, but for now I need nothing else from you.”

She couldn’t help the look of hurt that flashed across her face, his hard stare unwavering. Looking him up and down with disgust, she knew it wasn’t worth the effort to continue the discussion. He was lashing out at her because he was embarrassed, and she wouldn’t tolerate it.

“This… was a mistake. Fuck you.”

She turned on her heel out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Fuck that guy. Fuck that guy. Fuuuuccckkk that guy. She cursed to herself as she stormed down the hallway and back to the lab. The nerve of him to be bleeding all over me, begging for MY help one second, just to turn around and humiliate me the next. Fuck him.

Bursting through the doors to the lab, Nanami saw Kurono redrawing one of her diagrams in their notes, “I’m sorry Dr. Watanabe, it’s nothing against you it’s just—Wait, what are you doing?” he asked, noticing she was angrily shoving her things into her bag.

“I’m leaving.”

Kurono sighed, confident that Overhaul had to have said something cruel. “I’m not sure what he said to you, but I do know he’s been lighter than he has been in a long time since you started working together.” He confessed, hoping it would strike a chord with her. She paused, a sad look crossing her face before it reverted to anger and she began packing again. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

“Help me kick Overhaul’s ass and make him apologize.”

“… it has been a pleasure working with you.”

Pausing for a minute, her fists clenched in frustration, she realized what she’d be losing by leaving. “Just this morning I had one of the most exciting research projects of my career and felt like maybe we’d become just a little bit closer to… whatever counts as forward in this weirdass partnership thing. But he just had to piss it away.” It was upsetting to say the least, months of work would now come to a halt and collect dust, all because of his ego, “It’s not fair.”

Her eyes were trained on the ground, too angry and hurt to move when she heard him get up from his chair and walk over. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Care for one last cup of tea before you go?”

Sighing heavily, trying to release the tension from her shoulders, she nodded solemnly attempting to give a small smile, “Yeah, one more for the road.”

“Ok, I’ll leave you to your things. Come to the front room upstairs when you’re ready.” Kurono patted her shoulder as he walked past her, leaving her alone to finish packing up.

The anger was still present, but soon enough the sadness of loss came washing over her. No. We’ll feel all the feels later, let’s just get out of here she thought sniffling and recomposing herself. She was going through some papers when she heard the door open behind her.

“Sorry, Kurono, I’ll be done in just a minute,” she said, still focused on her task. When there was no response, she looked to see who came in, a grimace instantly plastered across her face. He walked over to the workbench across from her and stood quietly, his arms folded. She scoffed before turning back to her task, ignoring him. Packing up the last of her things, she glanced around briefly before her eyes landed on her planner that laid on the workbench he was in front of. Rolling her eyes, she marched over, standing only inches away from him before reaching past to grab the booklet behind him. As she turned to walk away, she thought she heard something.

“Excuse me?” she looked back at him, a tinge of irritation in his eyes. She rolled hers before turning again. “Why do I even ask...”

“I said, I’d like our partnership to continue.”

She was sure she was going to get whiplash from dealing with him, but responded anyway, unable to let this slide. “You have a real funny way of showing it.”

“But I am showing it, right now by asking you to continue.”

“You do not get to humiliate me and then just pretend like saying that will be good enough. You’re calling it a partnership right now, but a couple minutes ago I was a tool.”

“So, you’d give up all of this work because your feelings were hurt?” his tone cold and almost annoyed.

“Because my feelings were hurt? No, you disrespected me. I helped you—which I was glad to do—and you spit in my face. No thank you, no nothing. Partners don’t do that, at least not any I’d consider working with.”

“We may be partners, but our standing is not the same. My mastery of overhaul exceeds yours, thus you need direction.”

“You have a mastery of violence. Just because I don’t use it to fight or kill people whenever my ego isn’t stroked just the right way… that doesn’t make me lesser than you, and it certainly doesn’t make you better than me.”

“You agreed to come into this world knowing exactly what it was. This is not about ego, this is about the natural order of things here. You admit you couldn’t hold your own in combat, so where does that leave you in a world that bases order on the violence you’re abstaining from?”

“I’d say right next to you.” She stepped forward, solidifying the confrontation. “For all your power, you still had to be saved, by me. As far as I’m concerned, whatever fight you were in tonight would have been a draw without me, so who really decided the ‘natural order’? My value is the same, whether I’m inside or outside this world, and I will not stay where people refuse to see it just because it doesn’t conform to their narrow definition of it.”

He stared at her a beat searchingly as she stared back in complete defiance. She knew logically she’d have little recourse if he made the snap decision to disassemble her, but she wouldn’t want to live with herself if she let him think this was ok. As much as she lectured about ego, her pride never ceased to get the best of her.

“You…have a point.” He managed to get out, the words sounding like they were causing him physical pain. He couldn’t deny respect was paramount in the world of the underground and her demand for it was not unreasonable, not to mention how useful she could be in the future. However, for that to be true, he’d have to acknowledge the possibility that he was in the wrong, something he’d only ever done for his father, the only other person to save him. He knew what had to be done. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling what he knew was a light smell of lavender. She was standing much closer to him than anyone he wasn’t planning on fighting, but he found himself not loathing it. Savoring it for a moment, he turned to walk around to her side creating some much-needed distance between them. Clearing his throat by swallowing what could best be described as his own pride, he locked eyes with her. She was still royally pissed, but also watching intently, reluctantly curious.

“I…I do find you valuable. To compare you to a tool was… unfair.” By his tone and furrowed brows, she could tell this was difficult for him, but she needed to hear him say it. Her expression softened slightly, but she stood firm, waiting to hear the rest. She didn’t want to leave, but their arrangement couldn’t continue if he was going to treat her like he had earlier, and she needed to know he knew that. “You have my gratitude. I would like for you to reconsider your decision and to move forward… with me… on this project.”

It was a relief to hear, but he’d left out one important word. “… is this your way of saying sorry?” she asked, knowing the answer. His arrogance might not let him say it outright, but judging by how worked up he’d gotten, she was sure it was as close to an apology as anyone had heard from him.

“Think what you want,” he replied turning his gaze from her to stare at a cabinet that was suddenly very interesting. “… I won’t refute your assumption.”

Close enough. For now.

Her gaze dropped from his face as her hand massaged the back of her neck, resigning herself to this curve ball fate had thrown her. She sighed, walking back to the workbench, placing the notes down as they had been earlier. She went into her bag and retrieved a small box and began walking towards the lab doors.

“… Where are you going?” He asked, the slightest tinge of worry in his voice.

“Tea break and snacks.” She said waving the small box,” I’ll be back in 30. We can go over notes then.” She replied simply.

“… I see. I’ll be waiting then.” The subtle sound of relief in his voice did not go unnoticed. She paused, with her back still turned to him and spoke over her shoulder.

“Overhaul?”

“Yes?”

“To answer your question, I disassemble the nerve fibers connected to the tissue I’m repairing until I’m finished. I’d usually just rely on the anesthesia since most of the patients I work with have to go into surgery anyway, but in cases like tonight, that is how I do it without pain.” She explained before leaving the lab.

“…I see. Thank you.” He intoned with a level of sincerity that felt foreign to him. Though he’d never admit it, the sight of her lab coat hanging next to his brought a strange sense of comfort.

[bluedaviau]

「 cherry. rachel hilson. cis female. she/her. 」 are you ready for the time of your life, BLUE DAVIAU? the TWENTY ONE year old FINE ART graduate from tulane is ready to HOT AIR BALLOON  in DUBAI this semester. close friends would describe them as IDEALISTIC and CREATIVE, but there’s really only one way to find out. get ready for what august has in store for you, BLUE ! 「 pepper. twenty one. est. she/her. 」

ABOUT THE MUN.  the 2000 claymation film chicken run radicalized me

what up, i’m pepper, i’m twenty four, and not to flex but i’ve had writer’s block for two str8 months !! but i’m hoping to change that right here right now with one ms. blue daviau so thank you for coming on this journey with me friends it’s gonna be wild. a bit about me is i’ve gone to the mall literally every day this week and honestly, i am Exhausted from it so i apologize for the mess this intro is about to be. i’m a taurus with a libra moon and libra rising so do with that information what you will. my favourite pokemon is mewtwo. growing up i had a massive crush on danny phanton and ben 10, like i loved those lanky boys that could transform to fight crime for some reason?? i can’t tell you why. also when i was a child i thought god looked like king triton from the little mermaid. alright that is enough about me, moving on to blue. 

BIO.  if you use my coloured pencils you better put them back in rainbow order

this is going to be the short version of her bio but if you want to see the long rambly messy version you can find my google doc/app here ! which i recommend you looking at for no other reason than to see how cute the little cherry doodle i inserted in there is. it took me so long to get that in there and looking cute. it’s baby’s first fancy google doc 😌 anyways sdjhdsjh 

blue was born and raised in hawaii! her mother, stormi, was miss hawaii state at one point and her father, reggie, was a pro surfer! however before blue was born her father had a surfing accident that left him in a wheelchair. he turned to art to try to cope with the trauma of this accident and the reality of never being able to surf again, and he even opened up his own gallery! his gallery became a tourist attraction in hawaii and pretty well known in the art community and after passing down her crown blue’s mother became a news anchor. so the fact was blue was the daughter of two local legends in hawaii and the expectations were high!

not to mention the fact that all of blue’s elder siblings were amazing too. blue has five older siblings and all of them are successful in their own right and in their own niche. they’re also all named after colours funnily enough. the daviau parents had big hippy energy in case you were wondering. 

so growing up blue was always just kind of the ‘other’ sibling. all her older siblings had showed their talents at a young age and grew into them pretty quickly, while blue was just kind of... there. she was an artist, but she wasn’t a groundbreaking artist. she could sing, but her voice was simply pretty, not lifechanging. she could surf, but she was average at best. to put it simply, blue was the daviau sibling who wasn’t at all special. which ironically, made her stand out like a sore thumb. 

blue didn’t mind too much though, at least not when she was younger. she kept to herself anyways. all blue wanted do when she was younger was read, draw, and explore hawaii’s wild life, so she had everything she could possibly need to be happy right at her fingertips. life was good for her despite her inadequacy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of it (and wouldn’t develop a complex about it later).

when blue was six though her parents decided that they needed to have sweet, sweet, baby number seven to save their marriage. they named that sweet boy gray. he did not save a damn thing, but he sure was cute. blue was eleven when her parents finally divorced and that pretty much marked the end of blue having any kind of parental guidance. 

long story short, both of blue’s parents went kinda buckwild the moment they were single and most of the responsibility to take care of five year old gray fell on blue. blue was the one to make gray’s meals. blue was the one to give gray a bath. blue was the one to tuck gray in at night and get him into his school clothes in the morning. blue was the one to help him with his homework and hold his hand as he crossed the street and honestly pretty much do everything for him until she was about seventeen. both her parents simply checked out on that front, and it the end blue was more of a mother to gray than either of their parents were. 

the pressure of having to not only take care of herself but also gray when she wasn’t even legally an adult yet, was honestly way too much for blue. her anxiety skyrocketed, and the pressure she put on herself only grew. the only way blue could really cope with it and calm herself down was by 1. losing herself in nature, 2. drawing, or 3. reading, or rather most likely, doing all of the above at once. using art of an escape pretty much guaranteed that blue’s love and passion for it grew, and with that her talent for it. by that time blue was seventeen she had a full portfolio ready to send off to any university outside of hawaii that would take her. because you bet your bottom dollar your girl was getting the hell outta there!

as we all know blue got accepted to tulane. it was hard to leave gray and her family behind, but blue set her mother and father straight before she left, ensuring that gray would be well taken care of in her stead and hoping that some distance between herself and her family that was so dependent on her (her mother never new how to cook so blue made all the meals, her father never knew how to handle gray so he was always coming to blue to advice, gray was absolutely lost without her, etc) would lift that pressure off her shoulders. 

it didn’t at first. the first few months were tough with all the calls blue got from home. that plus the schoolwork she had on her plate almost left her more stressed than before. however, slowly the calls began to fade and slowly blue was able to put her full focus in her art program, and later, her animation programs. 

sorry folks my brain is fried, we’re gonna stop here!

HEADCANNONS. on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

Blue’s father is in a wheelchair from the surfing accident that made him take up art. His past as a professional surfer is actually part of the reason why his gallery is so popular though honestly, because the accident was televised and after that tragedy many of his fans and the public wanted to support him. He just also so happened to be really talented. But yeah, Blue’s father was really talented at surfing, he was even invited to the summer olympics in the nineties! But he was also the type to refuse to go because ‘surfing should be freeing, the olympics have so many restrictions, it takes away from what surfing is!!’ dkjsd he was that type yk? I also imagine Blue’s parents were the type to be on the front lines at protests. As it is, Blue is the same, very passionate, definitely has made some bomb ass posters and t-shirts for every women's march she’s attended.

Blue can play the ukulele really well and she honestly has a really pretty singing voice. However she can’t dance even a little bit. Honestly, she could literally break a bone. Really wants to throw it back though 😔

Loves to bake and cook because they’re relaxing activities with built in rewards. Learned to bake and cook because of having to take care of herself and her brother's meals when she was younger, that is if she didn’t want them both to literally get diabetes. As it is though, now that she doesn’t have to worry about her baby brother’s diet as well as her own, she will make a whole chocolate cake just cause she’s a little stressed and proceed to actually eat it. But she will share though. Catch Blue coming to your hotel room with sweets.

All of Blue’s elder siblings are adults now, but Gray is still about sixteen. They exchanged letters from Hawaii to Tulane and Blue always spends hours decorating hers and including little snacks and cute little knick knacks in them, despite the fact that Gray is now an angsty teenager and does not find these things as entertaining as he used to. Despite that, they are definitely the closest out of their siblings for the most part.

Blue’s siblings' names are Sage, Jett, Jade, Ruby, Rose and of course Gray. Jade and Jett, and Ruby and Rose are both twins.

The type to cry easily honestly. Also the type to carry other people’s problems with her. Like if you tell Blue that someone hurt your feelings last week she will remember and she will check on you the next time she sees you. Very empathetic, almost to a fault though because she’s constantly being careful of everyone else’s feelings rather than her own. The type who’s a good listener though. Also the type to give either really good advice or really odd advice.  

Art still tends to be her happy place, something she got from her father. Trying to find her own place outside of her father's shadow. She wants to get into the world of animation and cartoons but the whole task is a bit daunting. Is planning to work her ass off for it though! Spends a lot of time in coffee shops storyboarding and making animations. I think she may have a contract going on with a cartoon network of some sort, like they may have picked up a show of hers? Because I imagine her putting out some of her first shorts on Youtube and that might have gotten a bit of attention and led to her getting a deal for a show, so. She’s probably working her ass off towards that, and is honestly probably 1.doubting if they really picked up her show because of her talent or her father’s name, and 2.wondering if she can really do this.

Loves water in all shapes and forms. Since she can’t go to the beach everyday, the small bath in her tiny ass apartment??? Suddenly heaven. That said, Blue is either terrified of the ocean or loves it and I can’t decide which. Standby on that.

Makes a great coffee cake. Like it’s to die for.

Is VERY passionate about the environment. Is a pescatarian. Goes to the farmers market to pick out fresh produce. Loves to hike.

Always has the urge to sketch or paint after she reads poetry or novels. Highlights her favourite bits and has the tendency to read them over when she’s sad. The parts she loves are usually the parts that leave her wanting something.

Draws when she’s sad too. Claire Saffitz energy when she’s cooking but also just through life. Very friendly, but an introvert when it comes to gathering her energy.

Lives for libraries and bookstores, and has stacks on stacks of books in her old apartment. Loves old children's books honestly, like The Secret Garden, and poetry. Like whimsical and fantastical fiction with flowery words that just brings you to another place? Blue’s freaking jam. Falls in love with someone in fiction every five days, and desperately wants to be in love in real life, hence all the tinder dates and blind dates. I don’t think Blue ever has fallen in love though, like not really.

An absolute baby when it comes to the cold. Literally there could be a slight breeze and Blue will be acting like she’s suddenly in the arctic.  Any cold destinations will be greeted by a bundled up Blue’s Clues.

Made her first painting out of her own feces at six months old. Her parents proudly framed it. It’s probably still up in the attic in their Hawaii home.

Won her first art show at six but was unsure whether it was because her art really was something worth awarding or because of her father’s name. The award got her on the front page of the Honolulu Tribune but with her father proudly at her back and the title ‘Following in her father’s footsteps’ above her head. Blue just wants to find her own footing in the art world, and be her own person.

Keeps a journal and has since she was a teenager.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i’m the friend that needs help opening water bottles. 

coming to theatres near you soon!

[plumoh]

all pain, all smiles, became a magnificent tale (1)

Word count: 5580

Summary: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are both too aware of their feelings, but it is never the right time. / CQL 'verse

Note: AO3 link. Canon compliant, retelling of CQL with huge pining from the start. Elements like controlling corpses will be taken from the novel/donghua but the timeline and characterization are all CQL.

01.

The rumors and stories about the Twin Jades being as beautiful as the moon and as graceful as the wind didn't lie. The concept of beauty is one that Wei Wuxian understands on all levels—if something is pretty, then why not appreciate it and say it out loud? Compliments also have the benefit of making people happy.

Most people, anyway.

“Second Master Lan, you're really incredible!” he laughs. “Handsome and skilled? So many girls would swoon if they had a glimpse of such an amazing sight.”

Lan Wangji's grip on his sword tightens and his gaze seems to convey all the contempt towards Wei Wuxian that is currently boiling in his blood, and it doesn't stray away from the jar of Emperor's Smile that Wei Wuxian is protectively keeping against his side. It's almost comical, to see two people standing on a rooftop well after curfew, in such a strict and rule-abiding place like the Cloud Recesses; Wei Wuxian just set foot inside today and he already feels it will be a long year.

He props up his leg and carelessly uncaps the jar, sporting an amused smile.

“But once they realize how cold and inflexible you are, they'd run away!”

He takes a long sip of the alcohol, suddenly feeling extremely entertained by Lan Wangji's quiet outrage. It's kind of impressive Lan Wangji can say so much with his eyes alone—never mind silencing people with a spell, his gaze does the job perfectly. Wei Wuxian has seen different shapes of eyes in the past, but even if Lan Wangji's are small, there is an intensity in those clear and gorgeous eyes that makes him unable to look away. He could give orders or convey an entire message with one look.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, playing with his jar of alcohol and jostling its content. “That's right, you're unreasonable and rigid, but it doesn't matter. Once I return to Yunmeng—mhh?!”

As Wei Wuxian chases after him to cancel the spell, he believes that Lan Wangji really needs to do something about his awful personality.

02.

Jiang Cheng tells him that he's ridiculous and stupid for wanting to catch Lan Wangji's attention whenever he sees him, but in all honesty, if Lan Wangji truly hated him, would he still respond to his calls?

“Ji-xiong!”

Wei Wuxian enthusiastically waves his hands, never missing the way Lan Wangji's face closes at his sight, like an invisible spirit forcefully makes him narrow his eyes and exude an untouchable aura. It's kind of cool, actually.

“Do you want to get punished or what?” Jiang Cheng hisses, pinching his side, while Nie Huaisang attempts to conceal his entire body behind his fan.

Wei Wuxian keeps smiling and waving, until Lan Wangji turns on his heels and ignores him, once again. The white robes are fluttering in the wind and his silhouette is as graceful as always, although his steps seem to be a bit stiffer. Must have been slightly more irritated than usual.

It's really, really fun.

03.

He wouldn't say there is a spark, or an explosion of stars, but he does feel something pleasant settling in his stomach when Suibian clashes with Bichen as he carefully moves on the cliff. He didn't realize who he was fighting at the beginning, but once he took in the immaculate robes and the impassive face his lips curl upwards in a mischievous grin.

“Ji-xiong, that's you! Wow, you really are skilled.”

He quickly unsheathes Suibian, gaze still trained on Lan Wangji's that stares down at him like he said the most absurd thing in existence. He's used to it, now, so it doesn't dampen his mood, it even lifts his spirits a little bit (it's always a delight to see the Second Jade, despite his ignoring). Wei Wuxian takes his time to admire the fine and delicate traits on Lan Wangji's face, which he probably will never tire of; he thinks about the stories and the female disciples gossiping, and he chuckles at the thought he's possibly the only one who gets to see him so up close. The waterfall and the green of the trees frame this face gently, making him look like a painting.

“I'm telling you a secret,” Wei Wuxian whispers, taking careful steps towards the other man. “I'm not the only one who wanders in the back of the Cloud Recesses, do you think it has anything to do with the spiritual consciousness stealing—hey!”

For someone so proper Lan Wangji doesn't hold back as he grabs Wei Wuxian's wrist and drags him all the way to the Library Pavilion, deaf to his burden's whines and complains that can be heard all over the Cloud Recesses.

Spending so much time in his company would have killed anyone of boredom, but Wei Wuxian managed to distract himself from his punishment by staring at Lan Wangji. In-between two lines of copying he looks up and stares at his companion, who sits still like a statue, diligently learning from books he's probably already read. Wei Wuxian ends up doodling rabbits, jars of alcohol and clouds in the corners of his papers, then decides it would be a waste not to exploit the infinite source of inspiration standing right in front of him.

Lan Wangji doesn't react at the portrait of himself.

“Come on, you must have something to say except for ‘boring’ and ‘pathetic’. Lan Wangji? Ji-xiong? Wangji-xiong?” And then, overtaken by sudden bravery, “Lan Zhan!”

Hearing his birth name shouted so casually draws a whole new expression on his face that Wei Wuxian can't decipher. He frowns.

“You didn't answer when I called you Wangji, so I called you Lan Zhan. You can call me Wei Ying if you want.”

He offers him his biggest grin for good measure, gleefully basking in the Second Jade's disbelief at such boldness.

Thinking back, he was already spending too much energy and time to commit to memory someone that was only supposed to be entertainment.

04.

“Lan Zhan, give me back my alcohol!”

So maybe he shouldn't prance around and being noisy with a jar of alcohol in hands, which break three of Gusu Lan's rules, but they're not in the Cloud Recesses and he is only trying to help a case during a nighthunt. What's wrong with speculating and attempting to dig up clues in the wildest theories? Discoveries are made because people are curious; Wei Wuxian would be very much surprised if none of his ideas turns out to be right. And in any case, Lan Zhan had no right to dump his alcohol!

He chases after him, ignoring Jiang Cheng's yells, and grabs Lan Zhan's shoulder. There are many cultivators trailing behind them, but Lan Zhan doesn't seem to care since he stops dead in his tracks and turns his head without uttering a word, like a warning. Wei Wuxian presses his lips together and slowly releases his shoulder, the loss of contact freezing his body with disappointment.

“Lan Zhan, why are you looking at me like this? You look more mad than me, and you dumped my alcohol. I should be the one feeling wronged.”

“I dislike physical contact,” Lan Zhan states firmly. “Stop fooling around. We are on a nighthunt.”

“Yes, yes, Second Master Lan, so professional...”

Lan Zhan sends him one last glare before walking away, and Wei Wuxian is left staring at his back, wondering why talking to Lan Zhan feels as frustrating as exciting. A voice sounding suspiciously like Jiang Cheng tells him that he's stupid.

“You're stupid or what? Stop bothering him.” Jiang Cheng snorts next to him, and Wei Wuxian groans.

“I wasn't even doing anything!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and urges him to follow the Twin Jades.

05.

When Lan Zhan lands on his boat, he expects a reprimand, but he simply gets an inquisitive look, albeit mildly annoyed.

“I didn't splash you on purpose, those ghouls are smart so I had to find something not to alert them. Are you recognizing I'm not completely useless?” Wei Wuxian asks with a smirk, delighted by Lan Zhan's lack of criticism.

Confident and reinvigorated after showing he's at least half serious about this case, Wei Wuxian takes a few steps forward and peers at Lan Zhan's face, smiling at his reddened ears and his inability to look him in the eyes.

“Stay away,” Lan Zhan snaps, gaze fixed on the water.

Wei Wuxian pouts but complies, seeing that he won't get much entertainment if Lan Zhan is focused on fulfilling this mission, especially with the other cultivators and their brothers around.

They take care of the waterborne abyss easily enough, if Wei Wuxian doesn't take into account their almost death. He would have much preferred being grabbed by the arm instead of his collar, but that's asking too much from someone who stated only minutes ago that touching people is absolutely out of the question.

“We're already so close, touching even my arm wouldn't be too bad, right?”

“We are not close.”

These words, more than anything, drive a knife into Wei Wuxian's guts. Lan Zhan's tone hasn't shifted from his usual monotone one, but his clipped words and adamant refusal to so much as look at Wei Wuxian, even as they're speaking, unload a new uncertainty in his mind.

On the way back to the Cloud Recesses, after offering loquats and failing at making Lan Zhan look at him again, he comes to the realization that when he does get Lan Zhan's attention, it brings him immense joy.

06.

“Lan Zhan, your forehead ribbon is crooked.”

Wei Wuxian's thoughts flicker for the briefest moment, imagining Lan Zhan's wife tying the ribbon around his head every morning, as ridiculous as it is. That rule of Gusu Lan sect is among the most bemusing ones, dictating a way of living that seems pretty extreme. Can a simple piece of cloth be that important to someone? Wei Wuxian discards the knowledge altogether (like most of the other rules he's copied) when the conversation turns to the topic of family. In that instant, he feels there is a special understanding that passes between them; there is a longing and sadness that Wei Wuxian has long tucked in a corner of his mind, far away from the thoughts that make him go through the day as seamlessly as possible.

Wei Wuxian has the fleeting suspicion that maybe, Lan Zhan doesn't like showing his emotions because there are too many of them inside his heart. It took a few weeks and a cup of alcohol to start unearthing the mystery that is the Second Jade, who looks as vulnerable as anyone else in his current drunkenness. His carved beauty remains, but he looks less unattainable. Wei Wuxian smiles, a sudden warmth spreading in his body as he lifts his jar of Emperor's Smile.

“A toast to us, who found companionship in unexpected misfortune. Let's drink while we still can, alright?”

He downs the jar in one go, knowing full well they won't share another drink together.

07.

Wei Wuxian's respect for Lan Zhan shoots up when he realizes he's taking the punishment without the slightest twitch, but it also confirms that he is a madman.

“Who willingly gets punished like that?”

Lan Zhan barely acknowledges his presence, focused on the rulers that beat and cut into his back. It's surprising Wei Wuxian doesn't forget his own pain while staring at Lan Zhan's impassive face that is almost a model to follow.

“The Cold Spring will relieve your pain,” Zewu-jun says when he meets him, a soft but knowing smile on his face.

Wei Wuxian has no idea why Zewu-jun is showing so much kindness towards him, but he won't refuse help. Even if Shijie tells him to take it easy, he runs as fast as he can despite of the stinging to the Cold Spring. He absolutely doesn't expect the person already inside the water, back turned to him with his hair spread at the surface. Wei Wuxian pushes down the astonishment and the onslaught of eagerness that pools in his stomach, blinking once then twice before leaning against a bamboo tree and grinning.

“Lan Zhan, were you going to keep this place all to yourself?”

Lan Zhan doesn't startle, but it's a near thing as he hastily pulls on his robes, unconcerned about making them wet, then glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Do not come closer,” he hisses.

The events in Caiyi city with their hurting words are all but forgotten, even if the similar situation plants a seed of doubt for a second before going away. However, Lan Zhan should know by now that Wei Wuxian doesn't follow orders, and finds pleasure in doing the opposite of what he's told—and even more so when it involves Lan Zhan.

“Come on, I told you we're already so close, why are you so distant?”

Wei Wuxian proceeds to take off his boots and gets into the spring, shivering at its low temperature, and makes his way towards Lan Zhan. He never stops grinning, feeling he shouldn’t think too much about the situation, and his amusement increases tenfold as he notices the tips of Lan Zhan's ears reddening (it's quite an occurrence, certainly because he's unused to physical proximity, and that's kind of adorable).

“Admittedly you're harsh and sometimes boring, but we've sparred and we're evenly matched, so I honestly think we can become friends!” Wei Wuxian extends Suibian, remembering that Lan Zhan dislikes touching people. “I mean, that's the first step of any relationship, right?”

There is something incredibly wild in Lan Zhan's gaze when he looks at him, like he's trying to discover what sort of nonsense is hiding behind his words. It's not the disdain and wariness that usually underlie his unspoken words, it's more disbelieving and, if Wei Wuxian reads it right, with a tinge of fear. He blinks, then tilts his head.

“I know you don't really like me, but becoming my friend can't be that bad? Lan Zhan, you're hurting my feelings!”

He lowers Suibian and crosses his arms over his chest, wondering. Lan Zhan is clearly lost in thoughts if he isn't reacting to his teasing, which shouldn't be as concerning as Wei Wuxian feels it is.

“Look, if you become my friend...I will pick lotus seeds for you when you come to Yunmeng!” He gets closer to Lan Zhan, who surprisingly doesn't step away and simply eyes him with his unchanging attentive gaze. “Yunmeng is fun, we have a lot of food, and rivers to cross. Come visit!”

“I will not go,” Lan Zhan finally replies.

Wei Wuxian sucks in a breath. “Fine, killjoy. I'll eat lotus seeds on a boat all by my lonesome.”

He tries not to think too much about this rejection since he should have anticipated the cold answer, but it still stings. He's just trying to be nice. He huffs, and deciding that he should as well enjoy the spring, he starts fiddling with his robes to shrug them off. This mere action calls for Lan Zhan's fastest reaction so far, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?!”

“Taking off my clothes to heal, obviously.” Wei Wuxian smiles, laughing at Lan Zhan's scandalized face. “What, is undressing in front of other people forbidden too?”

Perhaps he's said the wrong thing again, because Lan Zhan seems determined to leave the spring, and Wei Wuxian backtracks immediately.

“Wait, wait, don't leave! I'm keeping my clothes on, okay?”

Lan Zhan stands a few feet away from him, and if he wasn't so stiff and upright, Wei Wuxian wouldn't have noticed the way his fists are trembling, clasped behind his back. Is he really that upset about the situation?

Wei Wuxian doesn't have the time to ponder on the question as a burst of a strange energy hits him. He surveys his surroundings, eyes narrowed; something is clearly off but he can't pinpoint its origin.

“Lan Zhan, there's something strange here.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he gets dragged underwater.

08.

Whoever invented such a complex and ingenious spell that recognizes specific people based on an item is admirable but also extremely bothersome in their current predicament.

Swallowing water and spending the next minutes sputtering isn’t fun, dodging the attacks of an ancient guqin is even less so. Wei Wuxian is ready to do anything to get out of this cave alive and unscattered, but when he yells for Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon, he truly didn’t expect Lan Zhan to comply to his order without a word.

It’s absolutely astounding. He stares at the ribbon that’s binding them together like it’s a foreign object, then lifts his gaze to meet Lan Zhan’s. Wei Wuxian has an inkling of what makes his heart so light yet so heavy, having Lan Zhan willingly stand so close to him when he vehemently objected to it earlier. It’s maddening to keep these feelings at bay, letting them take a form of their own without the means to control or even understand them.

He did not mean to stare, but Lan Zhan quickly averts his eyes and tugs him forward. Wei Wuxian follows silently, the lull of the water the only sound his ears are registering. It feels inexplicably intimate to simply have a strip of cloth tying their wrists together, considering how attached the Lan family is to the ribbon. He doesn’t dare saying anything for fear of breaking whatever spell they’re currently under.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and lets his actions speak for himself, as usual. He gets scolded for wanting to approach the sacred guqin, is glared at for misbehaving, and suddenly he’s breathing easier, gradually forgetting what he was so agitated about in the first place.

The oath they pledge to stop evil from spreading makes his core vibrate with anticipation and his heart sing.

08.5.

His entire body is set aflame when there is contact of skin against skin, his face mere centimeters away from Lan Zhan’s, and he tries to contain his shock and bubbling panic by laughing, even if it sounds awkward to his ears.

“You can’t say we’re not close, after that.”

“Get off me.”

The arrival of Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing, staring at them in disbelief, also prompts Wei Wuxian to scramble up with energy before he further digs his own grave. He quickly unties the ribbon, not paying attention to the stillness of Lan Zhan’s hand or the way everyone is looking at him. It’s a miracle he can string two sentences together to explain what happened with his heartbeat thundering and the distinct sensation of Lan Zhan boring holes in his neck, but when he looks at his face, somehow he finds less anger than expected. In the crease of Lan Zhan’s eyebrows and his lips pressed downward, he finds instead an uneasiness that is almost painful to look at; and in these clear eyes, Wei Wuxian doesn’t let himself see hope.

09.

“It seems that the events in Caiyi and the spiritual consciousness stealing are related after all, Wangji.”

It’s becoming harder to hide his excitement whenever Lan Zhan says or does something surprising, and in this case, Wei Wuxian thinks it deserves a proper reaction.

“You told Zewu-jun about my theories? You really are my confidant, huh?”

From the corner of his eye he notices Lan Xichen smiling at his comment, and he could have chosen to pretend he didn’t, but it’s such a rare opportunity to shamelessly tease Lan Zhan for something that’s not out of Wei Wuxian’s imagination. It fills him with so much joy and satisfaction to know he has at least his trust.

“I’m sure we can solve great mysteries together,” he offers pleasantly. “You don’t even need to talk, we understand each other already pretty well! And we seem to both value righteousness a lot, considering what we said to Ancestor Lan Yi. Aren’t we a perfect match?”

He nudges Lan Zhan in the side with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. Nothing he said is false, which is all the more exhilarating. He might be cheesy, but he sincerely thinks there is a connection he can form with that boy that doesn’t speak more than four words to him but still puts up with his antics and listens to what he says, however relevant or stupid the topic is. Calling him a confidant is well-deserved and shows just how much effort Wei Wuxian is willing to put in this bond—it’s well-deserved but it feels more than that.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Lan Zhan mutters, turning his head his way but not meeting his eyes. “This Yin iron issue is not to be trivialized.”

“I’m not trivializing it! I mean it, we’d work well together, and our cultivation level is similar. You should be honored to be offered this chance to work with the great Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian hits his chest once with the hand holding Suibian, an easy smile accompanying his words that are immediately met with the usual unimpressed stare. Given the lack of rebuttal, in the Second Jade’s language, it’s a positive response.

“Focus,” he simply says.

Wei Wuxian’s heart soars.

09.5.

“A-Xian, you are good friends with the Second Master Lan.”

Wei Wuxian coughs. “Do you think so? It’s not like he often talks to me.”

Jiang Yanli’s smile could make flowers bloom with how gentle it is. “That’s true, but the two of you seem to understand each other better than most. It has only been a few months and you know him very well, it’s rare for people to be so close in a short time.” She squeezes his arm, still as soothing as always. “Treasure this kind of encounters and relationships.”

Wei Wuxian has no idea how to react to his shijie’s words, but they lift his spirits considerably.

10.

“Is this some kind of tradition?”

“I guess so, the other Lan disciples were saying it helps us keeping our mind stable. You’re making a promise to yourself or something.”

“So it’s just a simple wish, then?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs, not that much interested in the specifics of the release of the lantern, and Wei Wuxian isn’t surprised; being the Jiang sect heir has drilled him into thinking ahead long ago, and to always pursue the goals he’s set for himself. Securing the future and protecting the sect—that’s what he ought to do, and what he wishes for, with no need to verbalize it.

Wei Wuxian wishes for something else. There is no doubt he wishes for the prosperity of the sect that took him in, but there is another wish that lies under it, stronger but quieter. He hums to himself as they climb the hill where they are to gather, his lips curled upwards as giddiness fuels every one of his step.

As soon as he has all the materials needed in hand, he leaves Jiang Cheng’s side and drops everything next to Lan Zhan’s. He gets comfortable and starts working on his lantern, ignoring the way his companion is looking at him with most certainly confusion, even if it doesn’t show on his face.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, do you often make lanterns like this? With Jiang Cheng and Shijie we like to make them during festivals, and we let the disciples decide which one between mine and Jiang Cheng’s is the best. Guess who always wins!”

He doesn’t actually expect a reply to his question, he’s only filling the silence like he always does whenever he’s with Lan Zhan. His presence makes him warm and more eager to share whatever thought is crossing his mind, as if filters don’t exist and he’s free to rveal every aspect of his personality. He can literally hear Jiang Cheng’s disapproval.

Wei Wuxian is happy, when he is with Lan Zhan.

The Second Jade ever so slightly glances his way, hands poised on his own lantern tracing delicate characters. His shoulders aren’t tense and he seems content, like he’s really enjoying his time despite the noise surrounding them.

“I would not know,” he says plainly.

“That was a rhetorical question, of course I’m the best!” Wei Wuxian laughs, and finally lifts his head to look at Lan Zhan’s face.

His heart skips a beat when he finds clear eyes directly looking at his. But the moment vanishes as if it didn’t occur and Lan Zhan resumes his writing, a flush spreading over his cheeks and ears, which is completely unexpected and Wei Wuxian feels his own face heat up at this sight. The implication behind what just transpired would have gone unnoticed to his admittedly blind eyes were it not for the fact he’s already entertained some ideas of his own feelings for a while, now.

It’s scary, to think about the what-ifs and the would-bes, though he feels there is a right time for everything. There always is.

With renewed vigor and satisfaction, he keeps painting his lantern, every one of his strokes assured and precise, aiming at pleasing.

“Look Lan Zhan, I drew rabbits for you.”

Lan Zhan has been steadily more willing to look at whatever Wei Wuxian is pointing at without being coerced into it (he has been observing). And it’s only because Wei Wuxian is on the lookout for any changes that he catches the shift of his expressions so easily.

“You smiled!” he exclaims gleefully, leaning forward to get a good look at this smile.

Lan Zhan’s expression immediately schools back into one of indifference, although his eyes are still telling another story.

“Ridiculous.”

Wei Wuxian grins. “Don’t be like that, I know you like it!” And with a burst of adrenaline and impulsiveness, he says: “Since we risked our lives together, let’s release the lantern together.”

Oh, he knows what people are saying; they’re impatiently waiting for Shijie and Jin Zixuan to release their lantern as a sign of love, the gesture seen as one of the most romantic to exist. Wei Wuxian doesn’t care about the peacock and the so-called romanticism, but he does admit that touching the lantern and letting it fly up, with someone, renders their wish more concrete, more valued; a silent witness to this private moment.

To say that Lan Zhan is shocked would be an understatement, and it would have been amusing if the situation was a bit less intimate.

“Never mind, I was joking,” Wei Wuxian backtracks, averting his eyes.

“No. I will do it.”

Lan Zhan reaches for the lantern, careful not to wrinkle it, and when their eyes meet Wei Wuxian thinks he’s found a whole new purpose in life. There is unparalleled determination and fervor, naked and genuine, unable to deceive whoever getting a glimpse of them. It’s beautiful.

The curve of his lips is gentle. “Okay.”

The world is reduced to the two of them, working on the lantern without a word. Wei Wuxian sometimes glances in Lan Zhan’s direction and is delighted to see how at ease he seems in his company; there is tranquillity that calms his mind and brings him comfort. Wei Wuxian can’t afford to voice his thoughts about the warmth and the elation that pool in his stomach, but he can still accept them and decide what to do later, when the right time comes.

He misses every look Lan Zhan casts him.

Wei Wuxian lights the fire, fingers firmly grasping the edge of the lantern. Their hands aren’t touching but Wei Wuxian feels his fingertips ever so slightly get warmer as they wait for everyone to get ready. He shows none of his turmoil as he brightly smiles at Lan Zhan, who oddly contemplates their work, something akin to satisfaction written on his face.

“Looks like we can really accomplish something when we do it together, doesn’t it?”

Lan Zhan looks up, gaze fixed on Wei Wuxian, but doesn’t answer. There is no small nod or word of acknowledgment, but the way he gets a better grip on the lantern is enough for Wei Wuxian.

They release it in the sky. A white dot joining many others, soon to be lost in the vast and infinite blue. Wei Wuxian’s gaze follows the lantern drifting away; he has been part of many events and has produced many lanterns, but this one irrevocably stirs something deep inside him. He’s choking on a wish that’s as much as a promise. He clasps his hands together and closes his eyes.

“I, Wei Wuxian, wish to stand by justice and righteousness. I wish to live a life free of regrets with a clear conscience.”

A full life—that’s what he wishes for most ardently, and he will endeavor to live by it. When he opens his eyes and turns his head, Lan Zhan is looking at him with a complicated face, like he is unsure he’s allowed to show vulnerability in front of others. Wei Wuxian’s heart swells at the sight, and he softly smiles.

“The words were hard to find, but I think I did good,” he jokes.

Wei Wuxian knocks his shoulder against Lan Zhan’s without thinking, remembering too late about his dislike of physical contact, but he doesn’t get rebuked or shoved away. He blinks at Lan Zhan, and when he opens his mouth to apologize, Lan Zhan looks up.

“I, Lan Wangji, wish to stand by justice and righteousness. I wish to live a life free of regrets with a clear conscience.”

He turns his attention back on Wei Wuxian, who stares at him in wonder. It’s startling and unexpected, but absolutely not unpleasing; words have such a way to don devotion once they are pronounced by someone cherished. Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

“You never cease to amaze me, Lan Zhan. I’m happy to hear you approve of my wish.”

Lan Zhan offers a nod. “You know what you want, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, chewing on his lips. He gazes at the sky while he gathers his thoughts, surprised by how unprepared he was to that statement. He lets out a chuckle, nervous on its edges but cheerful enough to be convincing.

“Yeah, it’s important to know what we want.”

He wants a lot of things—becoming strong, eating delicious food and drinking exquisite alcohol—and some of them require effort and perseverance to be obtained. He won’t disappoint as the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang sect; he won’t let injustice dictate his actions.

Wanting Lan Zhan’s attention and wanting something else completely from him aren’t under his control. So he keeps smiling, under Lan Zhan’s observant eyes.

“Some things are just harder to get, you know?”

“Mn. I suppose so.”

Wei Wuxian swallows the thickness in his throat as he hears familiar longing in this deep voice, but his eyes never betray and he doesn’t know what Lan Zhan sees when he looks at them. Something unrestrained flashes on Lan Zhan’s face and hope flares again in Wei Wuxian’s heart.

11.

It’s cute and almost a relief when Lan Zhan stops by and attempts to comfort him when he’s not feeling bad at all. Jin Zixuan only reaped what he sowed and Wei Wuxian would have liked to land another punch or two to make sure the message got across.

“You are ridiculous,” Lan Zhan scolds him when he sees the ants Wei Wuxian is observing on a stick.

“Yes, yes, I’m ridiculous,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, waving the stick around. “Wait Lan Zhan, don’t leave, don’t leave!”

Lan Zhan aborts his step when he’s called, looking quite flustered after his display of hidden concern, but Wei Wuxian is for once sparing him of his teasing as he stands up. The reprimand immediately comes.

“You should be kneeling.”

“I know, but I don’t fancy kneeling in front of a rock when I want to talk to you,” Wei Wuxian explains with a smile.

Lan Zhan’s eyes are beautiful. He’s described as cold and unwavering, indifferent to everything happening around him, but this is clearly wrong. He might not be as expressive as most, but his eyes are the window of his soul, and right now Wei Wuxian is certain they are softening, just like when he saw the rabbits on the lantern. It’s subtle, it’s quick, but Wei Wuxian still noticed it.

“Thank you for releasing the lantern with me,” he says warmly. “That means a lot to me. Really.”

He doesn’t feel much embarrassment for saying it out loud, but it does tickle his stomach and make his face burn, just a little, and seeing as Lan Zhan is pressing his lips together he probably caught the sincerity of the words.

“There is no need to thank me.” He pauses, slightly shaking his head. “It is what I wanted.”

Wei Wuxian beams. “I’m glad.”

“Try not to be too reckless next time.”

“Ha, no promises this time!”

There is a sliver of exasperation on Lan Zhan’s face, though he doesn’t pick up on Wei Wuxian’s comment and simply walks away, most likely not wishing to be seen conversing with someone who is supposed to think over his actions. It’s already quite a feat they exchanged so many words in such a short time.

Wei Wuxian kneels again, a grin on his face playing with the ants until Uncle Jiang arrives and discusses with Lan Qiren and Jin Guangshan.

[jungcupid-archive]

i dare you (to never let me go)

pairing: jungkook x jimin               jungkook x taehyung (subplot)

summary: and after all that had passed, jungkook would always be pulled back to jimin. he didn’t know why, maybe it was fate (or maybe it was his 9-year-old daughter).

chapter: 4/?

+

    “Mina!” Jungkook sang as he closed the front door, “I’m home and I’m ready to party!”

     Jungkook felt terrible about leaving Mina alone for so long, not to mention extremely anxious, so he planned to spend as much time as possible with Mina for the rest of her birthday. Hopefully, she’d be up for Cheesy Cheesecakes today.

     “Daddy!” Mina exclaimed from the living room, she came running to the door and Jungkook crouched down to receive her hug. “I missed you!”

      Jungkook kissed the top of Mina’s head and murmured a quiet “I missed you too” into her hair. He took a look at her watery eyes and gave her a soft smile.

      “Did you read the letter?” Mina nodded and her eyes glinted in a fashion Jungkook had never seen before. Without saying anything, she reached for his hand and tugged his fist open.

     “This is so pretty,” Mina said absentmindedly while stroking the silver ring on Jungkook’s finger. He’d taken to wearing the wedding ring around a chain on his neck now so that it was closer to his heart, but he’d never quite found it in himself to take off that particular ring.

     Suddenly, Mina’s gaze sharpened and she looked up from Jungkook’s hand and into his eyes, “Is this your engagement ring?”

     Jungkook tried not to frown, Mina had never asked about his ring before. He thought back to the letter and wondered exactly what Taehyung had told her. “No, sweetheart, it’s from an old friend of mine.”

     “Really? Who? You don’t really have any friends here,” Mina cocked her head to the side inquisitively and Jungkook couldn’t help but think that she was asking a question she already knew the answer to. He stood up and slipped off his shoes, taking long steps towards the stairs with Mina patiently walking beside him.

     “What did your Daddy tell you?” Jungkook asked suspiciously, tickling Mina’s side. She swatted him away while giggling.

     “You know I’m not going to tell you! Come on, talk to me Daddy! You weren’t here all day,” Mina tugged on Jungkook’s arm as they climbed up the stairs. Jungkook scoffed, wondering if Mina had been taking online guilt-tripping classes lately.

     “Fine, he was just a friend from somewhere else. We knew each other when were in high school… and in University.” Jungkook came to a stop at the top of the stairs and looked at his fingers, he twisted the ring a couple of times and then caught himself, letting his hand fall back down. He wasn’t ready to talk to this Jimin about that Jimin. Not yet, anyways.

     When they arrived in his bedroom, Mina started tugging on his hand again, “Then where was he from? And you can’t not tell me, it’s my birthday!”

     “Well,” Jungkook picked Mina up and put her on the chair next to his mirror, “that’s the thing. I don’t know. Let’s leave it at that, okay?” Jungkook quickly changed out of his clothes and ran a hand through his hair to let it run wild again. God, he hated styling it for work. He always looked so old.

      “Now, as I recall, I still owe someone a trip to Cheesy Cheesecakes!” Jungkook smiled slyly and picked Mina up, feigning a groan as he did. “You’re getting too tall to carry, Min-ah.”

     “Maybe you’re just out of shape,” Mina shot back, sticking out her tongue. “Daddy, we’ll go to Cheesy Cheesecakes later tonight. Right now, I want to dance!”

      Jungkook held Mina with one arm and pulled out his phone to check the time with the other. It was only 12:30. Once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Jungkook put her down and bowed, “As you wish m’lady. Go down, I’ll be there soon. I’ve just got to call Grandma, okay?”

     He picked up the phone and dialed, holding it to his ear as he watched Mina open the door to the basement and skip down the stairs.

     9 years old, huh? Maybe he was getting old.

 -

     Mina was already prancing and spinning around when Jungkook ended his call and joined her in their at-home studio. When Mina had first started dancing, Jungkook had decided to create a space for her where she could practice. The basement was perfect, seeing as no one used it. He’d had the flooring done and had placed a large glass mirror on one wall. The installation had cost him most of his good-quality paints, some luxury brand clothes he’d gotten as gifts back in University and about one third of his gold jewelry but seeing Mina’s face light up at the sight of her very own practice studio was priceless.

      He remembered the day after everything had been installed. Jungkook had whipped out his cheap acrylics and with Mina’s help, had decorated the walls with random doodles and words. It felt less empty to have pieces of themselves on the walls.

     Mina was bopping along to the music without a care in the world. No matter how many times he saw her, Mina never failed to impress him with how talented she was despite her young age. She moved with the grace of a seasoned professional and knew so many different styles of dance that it was getting hard for Jungkook to keep track of them all.

     Jungkook hadn’t been crazy about dance himself until University. Until Jimin. Jimin had taught him how to move with the music instead of to the music, he’d realized how relaxing it was. How good it felt to be caught up in a routine. When Mina had showed some interest in dance, Jungkook had enrolled her into ballet classes. Somehow, she mastered the basics and went on to learn some more advanced stuff in just under a year. After that, he put her in any class she wanted. She’d done jazz, quickstep, ballroom, lyrical, and so many more. Currently, she was enrolled in hip-hop, which she was picking up just as fast as she’d picked up the other styles.

     Mina never took off her tutu from ballet, though. She always wore it in every class she attended despite getting reprimanded several times for arriving in inappropriate attire. She wore it over sweatpants and shorts and tights and jeans, in fact, she was wearing it right now.

     Jungkook crept behind her and picked her up swiftly, swinging her from side to side and making her laugh uncontrollably. She fought her way to the ground and began striking poses to the beat that had Jungkook throwing back his head to laugh at. The music was loud, almost overpowering. Mina had set it to the highest possible volume, but it had never bothered the two of them.

     They danced together for so long that eventually, Jungkook had to turn the music down and force Mina to take a break. He rolled her a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and got on for himself. They sat down with their backs to the mirror and Jungkook rolled the bottle up and down his legs, eyes closing in satisfaction at the DIY massage. Mina tapped on Jungkook’s knee and he opened his eyes, looking at her.

     “Let’s play a game!”

     “Are you serious?” Jungkook laughed. He poured a tiny amount of cold water into his hand and gently rubbed Mina’s face with it, wiping her sweat clean. She dried her face with her sleeve and nodded.

     “Yeah! But, like, a low-energy one because you’re old and tired,” Mina shrugged her shoulders when Jungkook, offended, put a hand to his chest. “I only tell the truth.”

     Jungkook pressed his water bottle to his neck one last time and then placed it beside him, “Alright, what do you want to play with this old and tired man?”

     “A word game! We learned it at school. So basically, I say something and you have to say the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear it, okay?”

     Jungkook, confused (but not that confused, because he never really understood kids’ games anyways), nodded, “Okay, shoot.”

     “Dance!”

     “Tired.”

     “Cake!”

     “Cheese.”

     “Mina!”

     “Love.”

     Mina poked Jungkook’s belly, “Don’t be a sap. Um, art!”

     “Feeling.”

     “Jimin!”

     “Park.” Jungkook paused, turning to look at Mina.

      “Park Jimin? Who’s that?” Mina asked innocently. Jungkook groaned internally and reprimanded himself for being so stupid. “Daddy?”

     “It’s… that’s not what I meant, um. I meant park as in a playground? Because your name is Jimin, right? And you always go to the park-”

     “Not that often.”

     “Well, yeah, but you do go so-”

     “The best grandma in the entire world has arrived, my babies,” a voice called from the stairs. They both turned to look at Hyejung coming down the stairs with a box in her hand. “Happy birthday, Mina!”

     Jungkook thanked the gods for his mother and her impeccable timing. Mina ran to Hyejung and gasped when she saw the box.

     “A Cheesy Cheesecake?!” She shrieked in delight and threw her arms around Hyejung. Jungkook smiled at her in greeting and was met with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, she’d heard some of their conversation. Jungkook shook his head and waved a hand dismissively, getting up from his position. Mina seemed to be telling Hyejung something and when they pulled apart, Hyejung had a sly look on her face.

     She beckoned Jungkook over, took a sniff of his shirt and instantly recoiled.

     “It’s like you’re a pre-teen all over again, do you even put on deodorant?” Hyejung asked, handing him the cake box.

     “Of course I do! We’ve been dancing for 2 hours, mom, what did you expect?” Jungkook huffed, leading the two of them upstairs.

     “I expected you to have bathed before I arrived so as not to hinder my sensory experience in your household. Did you know associating bad smells with certain places make you not want to go there anymore?” Hyejung gestured to Mina to go to the kitchen and then turned back to Jungkook, “Go take a shower.”

     Jungkook nearly laughed in disbelief, “You’re kidding, right? Where are you pulling these facts from? I demand to see proof – mom! Stop walking away!”

     “If I see you before it’s been a full hour, I’m sending you back,” Hyejung called over her shoulder. She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Jungkook to trudge up the stairs.

     “That’s a waste of water,” he muttered uselessly, but headed to his room to grab a towel and some clothes nonetheless.

 -

     “The curious case of Park Jimin is what I call it,” Mina declared, shoving another piece of Cheesecake in her mouth. She was sitting on top of the island, her feet on the stool and the cake on her lap. She couldn’t believe her Daddy refused to talk about Park Jimin so intently, all her efforts were going down the drain! Mina looked at her Grandma, who seemed to still be processing the information she’d just been bombarded with.

     “We need to find him, grandma. Do you think we can?” Mina felt helpless. How was she supposed to find a man who didn’t want to be found? She violently put another piece of cake into her mouth.

     “Mina, slow down,” Hyejung warned with wary eyes, “And I’m not sure. It’s been many years since I last spoke to him and he was never clear about his past. I can only think of one way to try, but it’s a longshot.”

      She thought for a minute with her eyes closed and then opened them back up, looking straight at Mina, “Alright, we need to find a way to get your daddy to leave. Can you do that?”

      Mina’s fingers tingled with excitement and she straightened up, a chaotic grin planting itself on her face. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about that.”

     “Tomorrow?”

     “Tomorrow.”

     Mina scanned the counter for the phone and grabbed it from its position, placing her cake to the side. She had a call to make.

     Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about Park Jimin.

     Losing a best friend was painful enough on its own but thinking that you were over it and then being reminded of said best friend only to find that you were not, in fact, over it was a different kind of painful.

     Jungkook towel-dried his wet hair and looked at himself in the mirror. He had noticeable dark circles under his eyes and a few wrinkles were visible near the corners of his mouth. Although his skin still looked young, he couldn’t help but think it was a trick. One of those “look too closely and you’ll see what’s really underneath the exterior” illusions. Jungkook felt tired. Period. He’d been so caught up at the office lately and keeping up with the energy of a 9-year-old was no easy feat. It was Mina’s birthday today, though, and Jungkook wanted to be there for her. Especially because of his absence in the morning.

     Jungkook briefly let himself wonder where Jimin was right now. Whether or not he had a family of his own, if he was worried about getting old and examining the lines on his face, if he thought about Jungkook from time to time. Before his mind could take him any further, Jungkook snapped out of it. His daughter would have his undivided attention today, not anybody else. He hung his towel to dry and slipped out of the bathroom.

     As soon as Jungkook reached downstairs, he groaned. “Mom! You’re not supposed to let her have dessert before dinner! You know she gets too full and doesn’t eat her dinner and then it takes forever to get her to sleep because she’s too high on sugar.”

     Hyejung checked her watch and nodded in approval, “One hour and two minutes. Good job.”

     “Mother,” Jungkook said reproachfully. Hyejung just shrugged.

     “I tried to stop her.”

     “No you didn’t!” Mina exclaimed, scandalized. Jungkook tugged the box out of her hands only to find there was only one piece left about an inch wide. He sighed and silently accepted his future of having to a wrestle a slightly crazed Mina into bed.

     After discussing why Hyejung had brought the cake (“I picked it up on my way here because I love my granddaughter.”) and why she’d allowed Mina to eat all of it (“It’s her birthday, of course I’m letting her eat it all. You not getting any is an added bonus.”), Jungkook flicked Mina on the forehead and sat down on a stool next to his mother.

     “You know,” Hyejung started in a tone Jungkook hadn’t heard a lot of since high school, “Mina’s 9 now.”

     Jungkook, knowing what was about to come next, replied, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

     Hyejung twisted Jungkook’s earlobe without looking at him and continued speaking, ignoring his cries of pain, “Maybe it’s time you get out there again. Start dating.”

     Jungkook rubbed his poor ear and looked to Mina for sympathy, she snorted and made a move towards the cake again. Traitor.

     “Mom, you know I don’t want that.”

     “I think you do.”

     “You can’t possibly know what goes on in my head-”

     “When your father left us, I started dating someone else within a week.”

     Jungkook held back from rolling his eyes, “Okay, first of all, you got divorced. Do I have to bring up why you got divorced in front of my daughter for you to come to your senses?” Jungkook’s father had left his mother because his mother, as it turned out, had “fallen in love” with another man. Jungkook’s father found out and a week after he left them, Hyejung started dating the other man. A week after that, they broke up. So sue Jungkook for not taking relationship advice from his mother seriously.

     He’d never blamed his mom for driving his father away, though. He’d always been a major dick.

     Hyejung cleared her throat, “I would like if you refrained from doing so.” Jungkook raised his eyebrow in a that’s-what-I-thought kind of way.

     “You’ve got a date tomorrow.” Jungkook whipped his head up to look at Mina. She licked her fork clean, placed it in the box and slid across the island to sit right in front of Jungkook. Her expression was nonchalant, bored, even.

     “How… what?” Jungkook asked, dumbfounded. He was too afraid to address how Mina even knew what a date was. “Since when do you set me up on dates?”

     Mina grinned devilishly and ruffled Jungkook’s hair like he was some sort of puppy, “Since Jisung from school told me that his mom thought you were really cute!”

     Jungkook felt like the 9-year-old instead of Mina, being talked to like this. He tugged Mina’s hand away from his hair and looked at her, squinting suspiciously. 

     “Did Jisung ask you out or something?”

     “Daddy! Not the point! Also, ew! The point is that you’re going on a date with his mom tomorrow, deal?” Jungkook didn’t know what to do. In the span of a minute or so, he’d learned that not only did Mina know what a date was but, she’d started playing cupid for him. Maybe it wasn’t that hard to believe, considering what he, himself, had known when he was her age. The school field was more educational than any teacher at that age.

      Maybe he should talk to her teacher about the students in her class…

    Jungkook sighed. Or maybe, that was his crazy parent brain talking. Exposure from the outside world was always good, he knew that, he just didn’t want Mina learning anything that was inaccurate, inappropriate or inconsiderate. Ah yes, the three ‘in’s.

     It’s not that Jungkook was uncomfortable with the idea that Mina was growing up, he just… didn’t want it to happen. He wanted Mina to be his kid forever. She never asked about her real parents, was never impolite and always came to him to talk about things she couldn’t talk to anybody else about. Jungkook would obviously tell Mina about her parents if she wanted that, and he’d respect her privacy and need for space when the time came, but he didn’t want her to grow apart from him.

     Maybe it was selfish, but he thought he could afford to be a little selfish when it came to his daughter.

     “So, you set me up. On a date. Tomorrow.”

     “Yup. I called Jisung and you and his mom are supposed to meet at that coffee place near the school tomorrow at 10 in the morning. So get some sleep! Big day tomorrow!” Mina’s eyes sparkled with something more than excitement.

     Jungkook felt a little blindsided and could only murmur something about “…birthday… stay up… party… only 4 o’clock…” as Hyejung pushed him away, telling him to go to bed.

     “I’ll get her ready for bed when it’s time. And I’ll lock up before I go,” Hyejung assured him.

     Jungkook shook his head, wondering if this was some alternate universe, but obliged and went to brush his teeth nonetheless.

     He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. Starting out with someone new like this after all these years, it just didn’t feel right. He didn’t know how to protest, though. He didn’t have anything to do tomorrow and saying that he wanted to spend the day with his daughter would earn him a tiny fist in his arm and a bruised ego after being called different variations of “lame”. He felt nowhere near ready, but he couldn’t let Mina down.

     As soon as Jungkook had finished brushing his teeth, he practically threw his bedroom door wide open and melted underneath his sheets. Exhaustion took over in a matter of seconds, pulling at his eyelids in a way he’d been restraining them from doing for the past month. Sleep took him before he knew it.

 -

     “So, that was the plan?”

     “Yeah! Now you have to tell me your plan.”

     Hyejung nodded and pulled Mina into her side, sinking into the couch to get more comfortable.

     “Okay, sweetheart, here’s the deal…”

 -

     The next morning, Mina and Hyejung were bent on herding Jungkook out of the house as quick as they could.

     “Mother, at least let me put my socks on!” Jungkook was struggling to sit on the edge of his bed as Mina pushed him from behind and Hyejung nagged him about being late from in front of him. His voice was reaching an indignant squeak.

     Hyejung had arrived at exactly 8:30 AM and had proceeded knock for 2 minutes straight on Jungkook’s door to wake him up. He’d opened his door with murder evident in his bleary eyes and had been promptly tossed into the bathroom, a towel and some clothes thrown in right after him. Then, for the final touch, Mina had popped up from nowhere and had given him a little wave before closing the door and yelling at him to put on some cologne.

     They were insane, Jungkook decided as he finally pulled his left sock on and speed-walked out the room. Certifiably insane.

     “Come on, daddy! You can’t let Jisung down! Or his dad. His dad is probably more important not to let down, okay let’s go!” Mina shoved Jungkook out the door as soon as he’d put his shoes on and Jungkook looked at her and his mother standing in the doorway.

     “You really want me gone that fast?” Jungkook asked, trying not to wince at the faint ringing of truth in his voice.

     Hyejung’s eyes crinkled in amusement, but her lips remained flat. She waved her hands airily, “Nonsense, we just want you to have fun.”

     “Good luck!” Mina yelled happily, then she promptly shut the door. Jungkook felt like he was going to throw up. He hadn’t been on a date since Taehyung passed. That was… a lot of time. Yet it didn’t feel like enough. He squared his shoulders, re-tucked his shirt into his jeans and began walking to the coffee shop. Just a few hours, he’d get through this. For Mina.

+

[geartime]

Rough Draft Chapter 4: Berries and Oranges

-Blueberry’s pov

*Knock, knock, knock*

“I’LL GET IT!”

I ran to the door, curious who the mystery visitor was. A List of names went running through my head. Toriel, Asgore, Alphys, Undyne, Muffet, Grillby? Nope, it was a complete stranger.

“Hello there stranger! I, THE MAGNIFICENT SANS, Insist that you come inside immediately!”

Full of excitement at the thought of making this stranger my friend, I stepped aside so they could enter the house.

“Oh, um, ok.”

They seemed rather timid and, scared?

“Bro, who’s the stranger?”

“I do not know brother, but I am determined to make them my friend! MWEHEHEHE!”

“So, what’s your name?”

Papyrus had directed the question to the stranger. Their attention was on the kid however, who was having fun playing with the little doodles and swirls that appeared to be coming from the strangers giant pencil, glowing in a variety of colors. Interesting, their pencil reminded me a lot of Ink’s paintbrush.

“Excuse me, but what is your name!?”

“Oh, um, Ink sent me. My name is Draft.”

They responded, looking away from the kid as the doodles stopped flowing from their pencil. My eyes lit up at the mention of Ink’s name.

-Draft’s pov

The little skeleton seemed to beam with joy at the mention of Ink’s name. Their simple blue eyes reshaping into sparkling blue stars.

“You know Ink!? THAT’S GREAT!”

“I like your name, it’s interesting.”

The child who I had previously been playing with now looked at me with deep curiosity. Their skin was a pale white to match their deep red eyes. They wore simple brown boots that matched their shorts. Their hair was also brown and was at shoulder length and their cheeks had a natural light blush. Finally, they wore a green sweater with a yellow stripe. I already knew we were going to be great friends.

“So, what’s with the magic doodles that were coming from your pencil?”

I then noticed a taller skeleton lounging on a couch. They were wearing orange and white sneakers, brown shorts, and an orange pull over hoodie. They had a cigarette currently in their mouth which I found rather interesting. I suppose there really was no problem with it, seeing as how being a skeleton means you don’t have lungs to damage.

“I’m not really sure. I saw the kid and decided to show them my pencil. Suddenly, swirls of different colors and doodles started to come out.”

Thinking about it, I realized it was the first time anything possibly relating to my magic had happened.

“THAT’S AMAZING! We should probably introduce ourselves to you Draft! I am the magnificent Sans, however most just call me Blueberry!”

He was most certainly loud. He wore light blue boots with matching gloves, dark blue pants, and body armor over a light grey short sleeved t-shirt. Around their neck they had a light blue scarf that was slightly worn and tied in a bow in the back. They seemed to be full of energy, ready to pounce at any moment.

“I’m Papyrus, but you can call me Orange since you are probably going to meet other versions of me.”

“And I’m Chara. I really like your outfit.”

“Thank you Chara. Hello. Um, Orange, did you say other versions?”

Blueberry immediately lit up with excitement, obviously ready to tell me all about something. He kind of bobbed up and down in anticipation.

“You may want to take a seat Draft. This may take a while.”

I did as Orange suggested and sat on the floor next to Chara. Upon sitting down Blueberry immediately started explaining how their world, Underswap, was based off of the original universe called Undertale. There were thousands of other universes like Underfell, Aftertale, Outertale, and many more. He then explained how Ink wasn’t from a physical universe and more just a wild universe hopper who was a protector of the multiverse and creative helper in creating new AU’s.

“I also noticed that your right eye is a star!”

“Ya, Dream seemed to notice to, he said there was something special about it but he wouldn’t tell me. Said there was someone else who would get upset if he told me instead of them.”

“OMG, YOU’VE MET DREAM TOO!? I guess I might as well tell you! Together, Ink, Dream, and I create a group called THE STAR SANSES!”

With that he then struck a pose as he said the name of the group, his eyes once again forming stars. I understood the reasoning behind the name and found it rather clever. Thinking about it, I then realized why Blue was so excited and why Dream had pointed out my right eye.

“So, you’re saying that because I have a star as my right eye, I can be part of the group if I wanted to?”

“YES!”

I thought about it. This was one of the only good things I had heard in awhile since…

‘OMG, INK AND DREAM!’

“No. no. No, NO NOOOOO!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

I looked down at Chara full of concern and fear. I couldn’t keep my thoughts in order as I began to panic.

“Ink and Dream, I hope they are ok. Before Ink brought me here they were fighting two other Sanses named Error and Nightmare.”

“WAIT! YOU MET NIGHTMARE AND ERROR!? Also, Ink and Dream are fighting both of them, ALONE!?”

The way Blue’s voice was laced in fear only worsened my current state. I tried my hardest to keep it together however.

“YA! I thought they would come here after they were done.”

“Well I am sure they can handle it, this isn’t the first time they have battled.”

Orange tried to reassure me, but it wasn’t working. They were the only friends I knew aside from Blueberry, Orange, and Chara. More importantly, they were my first friends. Along with this, if what Blue had said about Ink was true, then maybe the reason Ink was there when I woke up was because he had been there to help in my creation. Without Ink, I possibly wouldn’t be who I am, I wouldn’t have discovered my name, I would never have met Dream the way I did. The possibilities just kept going. Suddenly, two skeletons came crashing down on the floor in front of me.

-Chara’s pov

Ink and Dream were suddenly on the living room floor in one big heap. They were in terrible shape. Bones were cracked, they were both covered in Nightmares black goop, and Ink’s paintbrush was even cracked.

“Oh my. Ink, Dream, are you guys ok!?”

I could see Draft get up and move over to them helping them up onto the couch while Blueberry worked to heal them with his healing magic. As the green light began to fill the room, Draft started to panic, blaming herself for what had happened to them as she went off to a corner, curling herself into a small ball.

“Negh, t-thanks Blue.”

“No problem guys! What happened!?”

I got up as Ink and Dream began to explain what had happened during the battle. I didn’t really pay attention because I was busy trying to comfort Draft. She had started crying and saying over and over again that she wished he had never been created, otherwise Nightmare wouldn’t have taken her and Ink and Dream wouldn’t have had to risk their lives for her.

“Shh, Draft, stop saying that. They do this kind of stuff all the time. Do you have any idea how Papyrus gets whenever Blueberry goes with them. It is nearly impossible to get him to sleep.”

“I *hick* I know, it’s *gasp* just, I wish I c-could have he-helped!”

“Draft, look at me.”

Ink had gotten up and moved over to were me and Draft were sitting. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward his face so she was looking at him. She shivered as she tried to calm down. Her face stained with magenta and yellow magic from crying so much. His eye’s were filled with so much care.

“It is not your fault, we are fine. I promise, we will train you, help you learn what powers you hold. Most importantly, we will never give up on eachother and assume the worse. NEVER blame yourself for anything, ok?”

With this, he pulled her into a hug so as to comfort her. She flinched at first but gave in as she hugged back, clearly needing the extra support.

“O *sniff* okay.”

She nodded her head as she responded. She began to cry silently, still not fully forgiving herself for what had taken place. Calmed down, we all sat down as Blueberry went off to make tacos. Things were calm, and everyone was fine, for now at least.

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Draft by me Underswap by ??? (sorry)

Sorry it’s been a while since I last posted a part.