#chalk is hard to draw small with. and i usually draw kinda small

[queenkeesi]

Sy-on Boy and the Teenage Anya Incident

—

It was a sunny day at Eden Academy, but the usual carefree atmosphere was clouded by the anxious energy in a small alcove where third graders Damian Desmond, Emile Elman, and Ewen Egeburg were huddled together.

“Bossman, are you sure about this?” Emile asked, his face scrunched up with worry.

While it wasn’t unusual for the three friends to concoct wild schemes, thanks to the ridiculous amount of resources at their disposal—being the children of obscenely wealthy parents—this time, it seemed like they might have taken things a bit too far.

“Yeah, Boss, this seems… kinda crazy,” Ewen added, his pompadour bobbing as he nervously adjusted it.

“Will you two just shut up?!” Damian snapped, frustration clear in his voice. He held up the items he’d painstakingly gathered—a rusty key, a quail’s egg, and a blue marble. “It’s gonna work, alright?”

“Uh, but what if you like… get old but not taller?” Ewen asked, scratching his head.

“Or worse,” Emile shuddered dramatically, “what if you turn into an old man?!”

“Stop being such morons!” Damian hissed, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to turn into an old man! I’ve got the circle, I’ve got the spell, I’ve got everything under control!”

Damian was fuming inside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t outshine his older brother, Demetrius. Demetrius had just been awarded another honor for being the top student in the ninth grade. It was like the universe was rigged against Damian, and he was fed up. Six years ahead—what a joke. So, Damian had decided to close that gap, using a spell from an old book he’d “borrowed” from the Desmond estate library. Today was the day he’d make everything right.

“Now, I just need to stand here and read the passage,” Damian declared, his voice tinged with the kind of determination only a kid with a grudge could muster.

The chalk circle on the ground was a crooked mess, with lines smudged and uneven from where one of them had accidentally stepped. It was the kind of circle that only a group of overconfident third graders could draw—something they thought looked cool, even though it was totally lopsided.

Before Damian could start, a high-pitched voice pierced the air. “Beckyyyyyy!”

Anya Forger’s voice rang out as she bolted across the grass, her little legs pumping furiously as she chased after Becky Blackbell, who was clutching a photo of Anya’s father, Loid, like it was the crown jewels. “Oh my god, Anya, this new photo of Loid! I must keep it!” Becky squealed, too busy swooning over the picture to watch where she was going.

“But you have so many already! And he’s married!” Anya yelled back, their voices growing louder as they closed in.

“Oof!” Becky smacked right into Emile and Ewen, sending them both stumbling backward.

“Hey, watch it!” Emile yelped, juggling the marble like it was about to explode.

“Seriously, Becky! You almost messed up the circle!” Ewen groaned, looking at the chalk lines, now even more crooked thanks to Becky.

“What circle?” Becky asked, staring down at the haphazard chalk drawing. “What kind of dumb stuff are you guys up to?”

Just then, Damian finished reading the passage, his voice rising with excitement. He looked up just in time to see Anya charging toward him like a mini bulldozer. “Sy-on boy!” she shouted, crashing into him with enough force to knock him out of the circle and flat on his back. The next thing they knew, thick pink smoke billowed from the circle, swirling around them all in a chaotic cloud.

As the smoke slowly cleared, the four kids stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock. The figure emerging from the mist wasn’t the eight-year-old Anya they knew—it was a stunning fifteen-year-old version of her. It was like something out of a shoujo manga, complete with glitter, a pink glow, and rose petals fluttering around her. Her short, playful pink bob had grown into long, flowing waves, framing her face with a soft, ethereal beauty. She had high cheekbones, delicate features, and eyes that seemed to hold a depth far beyond her years. The girl who used to eat dog food and play with bugs had transformed into a young lady of grace and poise, standing tall and confident in an Imperial Scholar’s cloak that shimmered in the sunlight.

Damian’s jaw practically hit the ground. Anya was taller—way taller—than he was now. He had to crane his neck just to look up at her. She’s… taller than me?! The thought alone sent his usual bravado into a tailspin of confusion and panic. The girl who used to wear mismatched socks and make goofy faces was now… stunning. Everything about her radiated an effortless charm that left Damian feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable.

Anya blinked her now clearer, more mature eyes as she took in her surroundings. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice smooth and confident, startling the boys with its new, rich tone. Even her voice had changed—it wasn’t the high-pitched, eager sound of a child but a melodic, calm voice that seemed to command attention without even trying.

Her gaze landed on Damian first, and her eyes widened in recognition. “W-what? Damian? Emile? Ewen? Becky?!”

Becky, ever the dramatic one, was the first to react. “Anya? Is that you? You’re all grown up!”

Damian was still speechless, his brain struggling to keep up with what was happening. He felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation in his chest—something that made him feel flustered in a way he wasn’t used to. She’s got an Imperial Scholar’s cloak on… is she even real? And why did the height difference make everything feel so much weirder?

“Yeah, it’s me,” Anya said, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Why are all of you so young? One minute I was just outside with…” Her eyes met Damian’s, and she hesitated, “And now you’re like, seven?”

“Hey! I’m not seven!” Damian snapped, finally finding his voice. “I’m eight, thankyouverymuch! And I was supposed to age up, not you!”

“S-Syon boy…” Anya muttered, her eyes wide as she stared at him. He mistook her shock for something else and was about to tell her off when she suddenly squealed with delight.

“Oh my god, you’re so small and cute!!” Without warning, Anya grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him so hard he could barely breathe. Damian’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he struggled in her grasp, completely overwhelmed by the sudden physical contact—and the fact that she was now taller and holding him like he was the little one.

When Anya finally let go, Damian was left sputtering, his heart racing as Emile and Ewen rushed over to check on him.

“Are you okay, Bossman?” Emile asked, barely able to hide a grin.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Damian snapped, his voice cracking as he tried to regain his composure. “Just… get off me next time, Stubby Legs!”

Meanwhile, Becky was circling Anya in awe. “Oh my god, Anya, you look amazing! You’re like, a woman now! Your hair! Your outfit! And you’re an Imperial Scholar! Does your cloak have diamonds sewn in?!”

Anya blushed and looked down shyly. “Oh, no, no. But you did alter it, though, Becky.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Becky interrupted, her eyes wide with realization. “So you’re from the future! That means you can tell us about ourselves! Do I have a boyfriend? Do I have a lot of guys who like me? Am I still stylish? Do I still look pretty?”

Anya couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes,” she answered, watching as Becky squealed and spun around in a giddy circle. Even Anya’s smile was different now—more serene and composed, a reflection of the confidence she’d gained over the years. She wasn’t the clumsy girl who tripped over her own feet but someone who had clearly come into her own, with an air of sophistication that made her seem almost otherworldly.

“What about me? Do I have a girlfriend?” Ewen asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes,” Anya chuckled, making Ewen’s face light up with excitement.

“Oh, oh, me next! Do I have a girlfriend?” Emile asked eagerly.

“No…” Anya replied, watching Emile’s face fall slightly before she added with a playful grin, “But only because you haven’t asked anyone yet!”

Emile’s mood instantly lifted, and he beamed at her. “Awesome! So I just gotta ask someone out. Cool!”

“What about Lord Dami—” Ewen began, but Damian, now boiling with frustration, shoved him aside.

“I don’t care about that stuff!” Damian growled, his frustration boiling over as he desperately tried to regain control of the situation. “But what I don’t get is how you’re still at Eden! If you’re really this old, shouldn’t you have been expelled or something by now?” He glanced over at Emile and Ewen, his voice rising, almost pleading for backup.

But Emile just shrugged. “I dunno, Boss. She seems like she’s got it together.”

“Yeah,” Ewen added, nodding nervously. “She’s got the Eden high school uniform on, plus the Imperial Scholar cloak. She’s probably super smart or something.”

Damian’s irritation spiked as he stared at them in disbelief, his face flushing with frustration. How can they be so gullible? he thought, feeling his composure slip away. It’s like they’ve never even thought about what high school is really like!

Anya chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and empathy as she saw Damian’s mounting frustration. “I guess we all change then,” she said, her tone gentle but with a playful edge.

“Hmph! I doubt I’d socialize with the likes of you by then, Forger,” Damian shot back, crossing his arms and stomping his foot like a child on the brink of a meltdown. “It’s only because they make us do kiddy stuff that we have to deal with each other now.” ‘That’ll show her’, he thought, his heart racing.

“Oh, no, all five of us are friends,” Anya said casually, the remark so offhanded and confident that it felt like a punch to Damian’s gut, causing him to stumble back as if her words had physically knocked him over.

Becky gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “But you and I are still best friends, right?” Her eyes glittered with excitement, already picturing teenage girl shopping trips and sleepovers.

Anya nodded, smiling warmly. “Of course! We just got back from a girls’ holiday in St. Tropezinne.”

Becky started hyperventilating. “Oh my god, really?!”

By this point, Damian had picked himself up, his annoyance turning into a full-blown temper tantrum. “Look, none of us care about your girls’ holiday!”

Ewen and Emile, always eager to chime in, muttered in unison, “We would’ve liked to hear about the food… maybe what the weather was like… if there were other girls…”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!” Damian exploded, his face red as he spun back to Anya, pointing at her accusingly. “Y-you!”

Anya stared at him, surprised, her calm, demure expression only making Damian’s heart pound harder, like the Anya from their time always did when she gave him any attention.

“If you’re really from the future, tell me… am I an Imperial Scholar?” he demanded, the question bursting out of him with desperate intensity. He had to know—he HAD to.

Anya’s smile softened, warm and reassuring, which only made Damian’s nerves fray even more. “Of course you are, Damian.”

For a brief moment, relief washed over Damian, filling his chest with a sense of triumph. ‘He was going to be an Imperial Scholar!’

But then Becky, always the one to stir the pot, leaned in, smirking mischievously. “Yeah, but how many Tonitrus Bolts does he have?” she asked, her tone light, clearly intending it as a joke to tease Damian.

Anya paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Four, I think… maybe five… but I’m pretty sure it’s four.”

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.

Emile and Ewen gasped dramatically, their eyes wide with terror. “FOUR TONITRUS BOLTS?!” they shrieked in unison, their voices trembling. “LORD DAMIAN?!”

Anya immediately cringed, realizing she had said too much.

Damian’s face drained of color, his earlier relief shattering as the implications hit him like a ton of bricks. His hands balled into fists, his body trembling with the effort to hold back the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “YOU LIAR!” he screamed, his voice cracking with the raw intensity of a little boy on the verge of a meltdown. “I DON’T HAVE BOLTS! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT! YOU’RE JUST A BIG UGGO WITCH!”

“What is going on here?” a stern voice cut through the chaos. Demetrius Desmond stepped onto the patch of grass where they were gathered. Even at fifteen, he was still as gaunt and serious as ever, his hair slicked back in its usual style, his presence immediately commanding attention and silencing the group.

“Why are you screaming at…” Demetrius began, taking a step back in surprise. “This young lady?” He had expected to see the small Forger kid—someone Damian still shouldn’t be yelling at but always was—but a teenage girl? It was clearly inappropriate.

“Oh, Demetrius…” Anya said, recognizing him immediately. She straightened up and stepped toward him, her height now nearly matching his. The difference in their statures only made Damian feel smaller and more out of place.

“Do I know you…?” Demetrius asked, his usually impassive face showing a rare hint of surprise as he took in Anya’s appearance. She didn’t look like any student he knew, yet there she was, wearing the Eden high school uniform and an Imperial Scholar’s cloak.

“No, well, sort of. I’m Anya…” she began, her voice steady and confident, which only deepened the strange, unsettling feeling in Damian’s gut. Wait! He had started this!

“I took the book of spells and tried to use it to make myself your age!!!” Damian interrupted, his voice high-pitched and strained, as he tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. This was his idea, after all!

Demetrius sighed, a rare crack in his usual composure as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew you took that book. Jeeves called me—you’ve disappointed him, you know.”

“Yeah…” Damian flushed, having been found out. “I took it, and it was supposed to make me older, but this idiot got in the way!” Damian snapped, his voice cracking as he pointed accusingly at Anya, trying to deflect the blame.

“Wait, wait, so you’re seriously Anya Forger?” Demetrius asked, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her closely. A subtle shift in his expression hinted at something more—a faint blush dusted his usually pale cheeks as he added, almost to himself, “I suppose Mother was right…”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, instantly on edge. “Mother was right about what?!”

But before he could demand further explanation, both Anya and Demetrius raised their hands in unison, silencing him in a way that was both infuriating and strangely coordinated.

“Yeah… that’s me,” Anya confirmed, her voice thoughtful as she pieced it together. “I think the spell somehow… pulled me from my own time, where I’m fifteen, to here and now. It must have affected me instead of just aging Damian, which I’m guessing was his intention…” She glanced at Damian before turning back to Demetrius, who nodded as he absorbed the explanation.

The other Eden students stood quietly, unnerved by Anya’s sudden maturity and the calm, almost adult-like demeanor she now exhibited. It was impressive, but it was also deeply unsettling.

“My biggest concern,” Anya continued, “is that the eight-year-old me has switched places with me. Logically, she’s where I last was, which, if my memory serves, was walking home from school. Not the worst place, but definitely not the best.”

Demetrius nodded in agreement, his usually impassive expression softening slightly with concern. “Yeah, this isn’t a great situation, is it?”

Becky gasped, her eyes wide with worry. “Oh no, Anya! I mean, little Anya! Will she be okay?”

The boys exchanged guilty looks, Emile and Ewen both feeling a pang of responsibility as they glanced up at the older Anya and Demetrius.

Damian clenched his fists, trying desperately to mask the worry gnawing at him. He couldn’t help but hope that Anya—stupid and annoying as she was—would be okay. But the tension in his chest only grew as he watched her.

Anya noticed their concern and smiled warmly, attempting to reassure them. “I think she’ll be fine, actually. I was with my boyfriend, so she’s probably with him now. He’ll definitely take care of her.”

The mention of her boyfriend felt like a punch to Damian’s gut, making his fists clench even tighter. Boyfriend? The word echoed in his mind, making the sting of jealousy and frustration almost unbearable.

Becky, ever the curious one, couldn’t resist. “You have a boyfriend?! What’s he like?” she squealed.

A faint blush spread across Anya’s cheeks as her hand moved to fiddle with the chain of her Imperial Scholar’s cloak, her fingers brushing over the elegant design as she thought about him. “Well, he goes to Eden with us and he’s an Imperial Scholar too,” she said softly, clearly lost in the memory.

Damian’s breathing quickened, his frustration boiling over. “How is any of this possible? There’s no way you have a boyfriend, and no way you’re an Imperial Scholar!” he shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief and rising panic.

The others fell silent, the air thick with tension. They all knew that Anya had actually earned more Stella Stars than any of them in the present, yet the idea that she could have surpassed them so much, even in the future, was overwhelming.

Anya didn’t rise to Damian’s taunts. Instead, she simply patted his head, her expression affectionate and almost maternal. “Aw, little Sy-on boy,” she teased, her tone gentle, making Damian hiss in annoyance, his temper flaring.

Demetrius sighed, looking at Damian with a tired expression. “We’ve been over this so many times, Damian. Anyone can become an Imperial Scholar for a great number of reasons.” His little brother’s obsession with it was starting to wear thin.

“Yeah, Bossman! She’s got medals pinned to her cloak too! Look, a tennis one!” Emile pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ooh, a nebula one! What’s this one for?” Ewen asked eagerly, their voices overly enthusiastic as they admired Anya’s achievements.

Anya sweatdropped, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the kids’ eager, expectant faces all focused on her. “Oh, that’s just from the astronomy club…” she said with a nervous laugh, then quickly shook her head to refocus on the situation. “Demetrius, I know this is all really strange, and I get that you don’t really know me or enjoy working with others, but I really need your help. In the future, we’re more acquainted, and I promise I won’t be a bother.”

“We are? Interesting…” Demetrius pondered. “Very well then, I suppose we can’t just leave little Anya in the future. We should head to my dorm then and leave the kids.”

“What? We can’t help?” Damian’s frustration reached a breaking point. His eyes began to well up with tears he was barely holding back, his face turning red as his emotions spiraled out of control. Not only was Anya older now and benefiting from his plan, but Demetrius, who never solved problems with him, was willing to work with her. His fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears from falling. ’Why does everyone believe this?! Why does everyone think she’s so amazing?!’ His voice cracked as he tried to speak and he felt the burning sensation behind his eyes intensify as he struggled to keep his composure.

Anya noticed the telltale signs of Damian’s emotional turmoil, and her heart softened. She bent down to his level, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Damian, it’s not that you wouldn’t be helpful,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “It’s just that it’ll be easier for Demetrius to help right now since we’re older… I know it’s frustrating, but it doesn’t mean you’re not important.”

Her words were meant to reassure him, but the tension in Damian’s chest only grew tighter. He bit his lip hard, trying to force back the tears, but his voice still trembled when he spoke. “B-but I did this!” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “I was supposed to be the one who got older! Not you! I—I—” He choked on his words, his eyes brimming with tears that refused to be contained.

Seeing Damian so close to breaking down, Anya’s heart ached. Without a second thought, she pulled him into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around his tense shoulders. “It’s okay, Damian,” she whispered soothingly. “I know it’s hard, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

Damian stiffened in her embrace, desperately trying to hold on to the last shreds of his dignity. He didn’t want to cry—especially not in front of Anya, who seemed so much older and more composed now—but the warmth of her hug and the kindness in her voice made it almost impossible to keep the tears at bay.

Becky, unable to contain her admiration, tried to lift the mood. “Oh my god, she’s so cool!!”

“Wow, yeah, she is cool…” Emile murmured, while Ewen nodded in agreement.

Damian, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions, could only manage a small nod in response, his fists slowly unclenching as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes before they could spill over. The overwhelming mix of embarrassment, anger, and jealousy left him feeling utterly defeated, but he fought to keep himself together, refusing to let his emotions fully show.

“Okay, yeah, let’s just all go,” Demetrius stated, giving in to the plan as the group made their way toward his dormitory, each of them still processing the bizarre events that had unfolded.

---

As they walked through the high school section of the campus, Damian and his friends felt increasingly out of place. The buildings seemed to loom larger, the older students looked impossibly mature, and everything about the high school section felt intimidating. But Anya and Demetrius, both moving with the ease of those who belonged, were completely at home.

Everywhere they went, people stopped and stared at Anya. No one except the kids and Demetrius knew she was actually the eight-year-old Anya Forger; to everyone else, she was a mysterious new girl who had suddenly appeared, radiating confidence and grace. Whispers followed them down the hallways as students speculated about who she might be.

“Looks like everyone notices Anya!” Becky said as she nudged Damian, “bet you don’t think she’s such a stupid uggo now do you?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “No people are staring cause they think she’s weird.”

Emile and Ewen, always eager to join in on the gossip, chimed in with wide grins. “I dunno, Bossman,” Ewen said with a snicker, “maybe they think she’s Demetrius’s girlfriend.”

Damian’s teeth clenched involuntarily at the suggestion. A strange, unfamiliar wave of jealousy surged through him. But he quickly shook it off, refusing to entertain the ridiculous idea. ‘There’s no way’, he told himself, though the thought still nagged at him.

Becky, not one to let things go, turned her attention to Anya with exaggerated curiosity. “So, Anya, is your boyfriend rich? Handsome? Tall?”

Anya’s expression softened, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, he’s all of those things, but…” Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she added softly, “Most importantly, he’s kind. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Becky let out a dreamy sigh, clasping her hands together. “That’s so romantic! I want a boyfriend like that! Is he older?”

“No,” Anya replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “He’s in our class.”

Damian felt his irritation spike, an unpleasant heat rising in his chest. ’What classmate?’ he wondered, his mind racing. ‘And why do I even care?’ But care he did, much to his annoyance. He tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him like stubborn cobwebs.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, a guy from the football team swaggered over, clearly interested in Anya. “Hey there, you new around here?” he asked with a confident grin, his eyes raking over Anya in a way that made Damian’s blood boil.

Before Anya could respond, Demetrius stepped in smoothly, his tone icy and commanding. “Move along.” Despite his slight build and typically aloof demeanor, there was something about Demetrius’s presence—the way he carried himself with that quiet, unyielding confidence that came with being a Desmond—that made people think twice about crossing him.

The football player hesitated, then slinked away, clearly not wanting to challenge the Desmond name. Damian felt a brief surge of satisfaction at seeing the guy retreat, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing worry. ‘At least she won’t be stuck with that guy,’ he thought with relief. But then a more unsettling idea crept into his mind, one that made his stomach twist. ’But what if she ends up liking Demetrius?’

As they continued walking, Damian’s mind wouldn’t let go of the troubling thought. He imagined Anya and Demetrius together, laughing, studying, walking down the halls… His heart pounded harder, and not in a good way.

A group of girls nearby began whispering loudly, their voices carrying over to the group. “Who’s she? Is she a transfer student? Is she… Desmond’s girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, but she looks really cool though… But why are those kids following them?”

Damian’s hands clenched into fists, his fingers digging into his scalp as he struggled with the idea. MDesmond’s girlfriend?’The words echoed in his mind, almost too much to bear. He could feel an ill sensation rising in his throat, as if the mere suggestion was enough to make him sick.

“Bossman, you okay?” Emile asked, noticing Damian’s obvious distress.

“Yeah, you’re looking a little green,” Ewen added, peering at Damian with concern. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, Ewen added, “Well, to be honest, Anya isn’t exactly Desmond material, right? But Demetrius is kind of… scary.”

Emile nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s always so calm, but you just know he’s thinking ten steps ahead. And remember when he just stared down that rugby player without even blinking? Creepy, right?”

Damian’s mind conjured up a horrifying shoujo manga-style image of a wedding between Anya and Demetrius—Anya in a flowing white dress, Demetrius in a sharp suit, the two of them smiling at each other with hearts in their eyes. The thought made Damian’s stomach turn. He could almost hear the nauseatingly sweet background music that would accompany such a scene.

Becky, always ready to poke the bear, snickered as she glanced at Damian. “Maybe he wants this Anya to stay so she and Demetrius can be together she can be his big sister-in-law! ” she teased, her voice full of mock innocence.

Damian shot her a withering look, his face pale and his heart pounding. Ice ran through his veins as he glared at Becky, knowing she was just trying to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at him. He said nothing, his thoughts too jumbled to respond. ’Why is this bothering me so much?‘ he thought, the question circling in his mind like a storm he couldn’t control.

As they finally reached Demetrius’s dorm, Damian kept his gaze firmly ahead, trying to bury the irrational jealousy and confusion swirling inside him. But the image of Anya with Demetrius lingered, refusing to let him rest.

Finally, they arrived at Demetrius’s dorm. Damian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, glad to be off the increasingly unsettling campus. The tension hung in the air, especially for Damian, who couldn’t shake the turmoil churning inside him.

“Right, you three,” Demetrius gestured at the boys, “explain what you did.”

The boys took a deep breath and began to explain the process, as best as eight-year-olds could. Both Demetrius and Anya listened intently, which felt strange to Damian—Demetrius rarely paid attention to him, and now, combined with older, composed Anya, it was unsettling.

As Demetrius flipped through the pages of the spellbook, the conversation naturally paused. Becky sidled up to Anya, still fascinated by the entire situation. “So, Anya… when you get back to your time, will you tell your boyfriend about all of this? I bet he’d be super jealous if he knew Damian was helping you.”

Anya’s smile turned a bit mischievous. “Oh, I think he’d find it pretty funny, if I’m honest.”

Becky oohed, her curiosity piqued. “Nice! Yeah, I bet your boyfriend doesn’t get fazed by other guys at all.”

Anya laughed. “He definitely gets fazed sometimes, but with stuff like that, we can work it out.”

Becky gasped dramatically, looking like she’d just discovered a new life goal. “You’re so mature and cool, Anya! I love it! Am I as cool as you?”

Damian rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with the whole conversation. “Neither of you are cool!”

Anya stared at Damian for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. Damian’s face flushed red under her intense gaze, her big green eyes making him squirm. She was definitely Anya. “W-what do you want?!” he snapped, stomping his foot in frustration, trying to break the tension.

But she didn’t look away. “Sy-on boy… let’s go outside for a moment.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, dragging his feet as he followed Anya out of the dorm room. She closed the door behind them, and he stood there, glaring at her.

“I can’t help but ask… why did you do this? Why did you want to be older?” she asked, her voice gentle but curious.

“That’s none of your business!” he spat, his bratty tone cutting through the air.

Anya didn’t flinch. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch soft. “I’m just trying to help, Damian. Please, tell me.” She smiled at him, and Damian felt that same uncomfortable squirming sensation he got when little Anya looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“I-I-I wanted to be older like Demetrius! If I was older, I could get as many Stella Stars as him—maybe even more!” He refused to admit the deeper truth—that he wanted to be more like Demetrius so his father might finally be impressed and spend more time with him.

“I see. Well, that took a lot of courage to admit,” Anya said, her voice calm and reassuring. She placed her other hand on his other shoulder and bent down so her face was close to his. “But don’t you think that even if it had worked, it wouldn’t have solved anything? You’d just be older, and you’d have lost all the time you could’ve spent with your friends.”

Damian’s heart pounded like crazy, and if she wasn’t holding him still, he would’ve bolted. This was like his usual Anya fluster times a million. “B-b-but…” He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Anya sighed and stepped back, giving him some space. “Can you just try to accept that you’re good enough?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a soft smile.

Damian’s face felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“For me?” Anya added sweetly.

“F-fine! But you’re still a big uggo with stubby legs! And I bet your boyfriend smells!” Damian blurted out, his bratty tone flaring up as a defense.

Anya chuckled, unable to resist ruffling his hair again. “Aw, little Sy-on boy…”

“Hey!” Becky called from the door, peeking out. “I think Demetrius has found something!”

Anya and Damian quickly returned inside.

Demetrius looked up from the spellbook. “I think this is it,” he said, pointing to a passage. “But we’ll need the same items you used originally to cast it. Do you still have them?”

Damian nodded, pulling out the rusted key, quail’s egg, and blue marble. “Yeah, I’ve got everything. Let’s just get this over with.”

Anya looked at the items and then at Damian, her expression softening. “Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

Damian felt his cheeks heat up again. The normal Anya never said his first name like that. “Whatever.”

“Just real quick…” Anya walked over to Demetrius. “I’m guessing there’s a memory removal spell?”

Demetrius nodded. “There is, yeah. I’ll use it on the kids.”

Anya nodded, relieved that he immediately understood.

Becky’s eyes widened. “What?! No! You can’t make us forget you—you’re so cool!”

Emile, Ewen, and even Damian reacted a little, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

Anya knelt down to their level, her voice warm and gentle. “Aw, guys, it’ll be fine. I’ve probably revealed too much, and I don’t want any of your futures to change.”

She hugged each one of them warmly, saving Damian for last. As she hugged him, Damian stiffened, not hugging her back. She whispered something sweet in his ear: “I think you’re good enough, and little Anya does too, we don’t want you to be like Demetrius”

Damian’s breath hitched, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. She knew. How did she know? He felt his jealousy melt away, if only for a moment.

Anya then turned back to Demetrius. “Thank you for your help,” she said, her tone sincere.

Demetrius looked at her thoughtfully before asking point-blank, “Anya… your boyfriend… he’s…”

“Yes,” Anya replied, smiling endearingly.

Demetrius nodded, processing the confirmation.

With that, Demetrius began the ritual, carefully following the instructions in the spellbook. The room filled with a soft glow as the spell took effect, and soon, the pink smoke returned, enveloping Anya once more.

When the smoke cleared, Anya was back to her eight-year-old self, sitting on the floor and looking dazed. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, blinking at her surroundings.

“Anya!” Becky exclaimed, rushing over to her. “You’re back!”

Anya blinked, her big, innocent eyes wide as she looked around. “What happened? Who woke me up?”

Damian let out a sigh of relief, glad to see that Anya was okay, though he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of loss.

“What was it like?” Becky asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

“What was what like?” Anya asked, tilting her head, which made the kids collectively facepalm.

“The future! That’s where you went!! Did you see us?” Emile asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Anya just blinked, her expression blank. “No, I think I was sleeping.”

“Are you serious?” Ewen groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

As the others complained, Anya stared at Damian, trying to piece together her memories. There was something fuzzy and warm in her thoughts when she tried to remember if she had been somewhere else. Damian’s face seemed to float into her mind.

Damian noticed her staring and immediately turned beet red, his bratty instincts kicking in. “W-what, uggo?! Stop looking at me like that!”

Anya blinked again, her thoughts swirling. “Maybe… I think I saw…” She paused, trying to grasp the fleeting memory of Damian’s face in her mind. “No, I don’t remember.” She shrugged, letting it go, though the feeling lingered.

“Can all of you sit in a circle?” Demetrius suddenly interrupted, his voice flat and uninterested, as if he was bored with the whole ordeal.

“No!” Becky protested, crossing her arms defiantly. “I don’t want to forget older Anya!”

Demetrius gave them all a stern, emotionless look, and they reluctantly gave in, shuffling into a circle. As he performed the memory removal spell, it was almost like magic—because it was—the kids suddenly forgot everything, blinking in confusion as they looked around, wondering why they were sitting there.

“I’m hungry,” Anya mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “I want peanuts.”

Damian, feeling oddly lighter and more relaxed, snorted. “You’re always hungry for something dumb like peanuts.”

Anya frowned, her confusion deepening. “Why are you so mean to me?”

Damian blushed, quickly looking away to hide his embarrassment. “Shut up, stupid. Let’s just get out of here,” he grumbled, stomping out of the room. The others followed, leaving Anya and the others to wonder why he was acting so strange.

—

Epilogue - The Future

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city as Anya and Damian strolled down the quiet street, laughing about something trivial and enjoying the calm after a long day at Eden Academy. They had just finished studying for their upcoming exams, but the conversation had long since shifted to lighter topics—jokes about their classmates, teasing each other, and the occasional playful argument.

Anya, now fifteen and every bit as confident and spirited as she had been back in her earlier years, nudged Damian playfully. “You know, you still make that grumpy face whenever someone mentions Demetrius,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Damian rolled his eyes, though there was a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, well, old habits die hard,” he retorted, but his tone was light, and there was no real edge to his words. Being with Anya had softened his once hard lines—at least around her.

They continued walking, their hands brushing occasionally, the comfort of their relationship evident in every little interaction. Damian glanced at Anya, marveling at how much had changed since they were kids. He never would have imagined back then that they’d end up like this—together, and happy.

But just as the thought crossed his mind, Anya suddenly stumbled, her grip on his arm tightening for a moment before she swayed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Anya?” Damian’s voice was filled with concern as he caught her, easing her down onto a nearby bench. His heart pounded in his chest, a surge of panic rising as he watched her seemingly lose consciousness.

And then, with a soft “poof,” Anya’s body shrank before his eyes, her teenage form dissolving into the familiar figure of an eight-year-old girl. She was now back in her original Eden Academy elementary school uniform, looking just as she had years ago—innocent, sweet, and utterly adorable.

For a moment, Damian just stared, his breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Anya, small and childlike again, was undeniably cute—so cute that it almost made him want to scoop her up and never let go. But then he remembered who he was, and what had just happened.

He had to hold it together.

Gently, he cradled Anya in his arms, feeling her head nestle against his shoulder as she drifted into a deep sleep, seemingly unaware of the transformation that had just occurred. Damian’s heart squeezed as he held her close, his protective instincts kicking in full force. She was so small, so vulnerable… and so not supposed to be eight years old right now.

His mind raced back to the odd conversation he’d had with Demetrius when he’d turned fifteen. At the time, it had seemed so out of the blue—Demetrius, with his usual cryptic demeanor, had pulled him aside and told him, “There’s a chance Anya might… revert, someday. If it happens, don’t panic. Just call me.”

Damian had brushed it off back then, finding it weird and typical of his brother’s strange way of speaking. But now, holding a tiny, sleeping Anya in his arms, the memory came rushing back with a cold clarity.

He needed to call Demetrius. Now.

Spotting a small convenience store nearby, Damian adjusted Anya in his arms and made his way inside. The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, and the shopkeeper, an elderly woman with a kind face, looked up from the counter.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest young father,” she said with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling as she noticed the sleeping girl in his arms.

Damian’s cheeks flushed a deep red at the comment. He quickly shook his head, ready to correct her, but the words got caught in his throat. Instead, he found himself inwardly admitting that the idea of having mini Anyas with his Anya someday wasn’t so bad. It was a thought that made his heart flutter—a future he hadn’t dared to imagine before now.

But he quickly refocused, pushing the thought aside. He had more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Damian managed to say, his voice a little tight. “Could I use your pay phone?”

“Of course, dear,” the shopkeeper said, gesturing to the old-fashioned pay phone in the corner of the store. “It’s right over there.”

“Thank you,” Damian replied, carrying Anya over to the phone. He carefully balanced her in one arm and fished a few coins out of his pocket with the other, slipping them into the slot before dialing Demetrius’s number. The phone rang once, twice, and then his brother’s calm, measured voice answered on the other end.

“Damian,” Demetrius said, his tone indicating that he already knew why Damian was calling. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Damian replied, his voice a little more strained than he would have liked. He glanced down at Anya, still fast asleep in his arms. “She just… poofed back into a kid. What do I do?”

“Bring her to the estate,” Demetrius instructed, his voice steady. “I’ll explain everything when you get here. And Damian… try to stay calm.”

Damian nodded, even though his brother couldn’t see him. “Yeah… sure,” he muttered, hanging up the phone. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts as he looked down at the little girl in his arms—the girl who had somehow stolen his heart, even if she was eight years old again.

Despite the situation, a small, fond smile tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, you know that?” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

With that, he adjusted his grip on her and left the store, giving a quick nod of thanks to the shopkeeper as he headed toward the Desmond estate. His heart was filled with both concern and an odd sense of nostalgia. Whatever this was, whatever had caused this strange turn of events, he’d figure it out—with Demetrius’s help, of course. But for now, all that mattered was getting Anya somewhere safe.

[musingartblog]

it’s simply what it is (snooze squad fanfic)

thought it would be fun to post oc fics here,let me know what ya think!

tw...uh sickness and swifi kinda being mean

Frankly Swifi didn’t need to show up to the Snooze squad’s base but after work assignments stopped being reported in he needed to step in and see them personally about this laziness.Though ‘base’ was not something that would describe the place,it was a small home with a stone pathing leading up to it and flower beds out front,he can see Eraz’s vegetable and fruit garden stick out from the back of the house,it looks like any other house,not a fancy mansion like the Star Sanses or a dark foreboding castle like Nightmare’s,if he wasn’t a hologram,it would be like he’s visiting his grandma’s.

His slippers click against the stone ground as he was greeted by the large oak door,he could just teleport in but he has manner,knocking the door.His foot taps impatiently as he hears shuffling on the other side,the door unlocks and the devil themselves opens it up,Eraz was wearing a dull red apron on top of their usual green jacket.

“yo” They greeted,their male and female voices overlapped, disorienting to strangers,normal for Swifi to hear.

“greetings Eraz” He spoke calmly,”I’m hear to talk about your recently streak of lack of reports and overall laziness”

“ah that,come in” They simply said,moving out of the way to let the hologram in.

“I bet your wondering what’s been going on”

“yes,that is the reason I’m here” Swifi remarks,”I wouldn’t leave the Hivemind for any other reason”

Swifi follows Eraz into the kitchen,seeing the large pot that’s boiling on the stove and Eraz continues to talk,”well funny thing about us organics is that we catch illnesses really quick”

Eraz stirs the pot alittle bit before grabbing a bowl from the cupboard,”Calcite didn’t dry off after we went river swimming and caught a cold”

“of course he didn’t” He muttered,”so you stopped reporting all because one….member of your team got sick?”

“yeah I don’t plan on leaving no one’s side,no matter what” They spoke with a slight vigor in their tone.

“Ink often goes on one-on missions”

“well I’m not Ink” They snap,their masculine voice kicking in, harsher than intended though that doesn’t disturb the hologram.

He knew that it was a sensitive topic to the other,however that didn’t change the fact that Ink was an effective protector of the Sleepyverse compare to Eraz,it was almost as if Eraz didn’t want to be one.Too bad they didn’t have a choice.

Eraz poured the soup into the bowl and headed out of the kitchen,Swifi followed suit.

“where’s Tic Toc?”

“he’s in the study,looking into how colds affect glitches” They spoke,keeping an eye on the bowl to avoid spilling.

“Anomaly Assets have weaker immune systems” Swifi states matter of factly.

Eraz shakes their head,”y’know I wish you didn’t have a confidence to say such things”

“I can say it with confidence because I am right” Swifi reminds them.

“well don’t do it infront of Calcite okay? I know ya hate the guy but give him a bit of a break”

Swifi frowned,he rather stay 5 feet away from that thing,his own internal systems agreed on that,he could feel the sawblade form inside his chest cavity,nevertheless he needed to stay professional even if it means dealing with some of the most disgusting creatures that dare to exist.Both making their way to Calcite’s door,scribbled with childish drawings and stickers plaster over it with cutesy things.Eraz used their feet to push open the door,allowing entrance into the room.

And if Swifi could feel strong emotions,it would be fear.

Calcite’s room was filled to the brim with plushies and toy it would put any five year old to shame,no help to Eraz buying them for him—as if the team didn’t already have a tight budget,crayons,chalk and paper littered the floor.It was a mess but Swifi wasn’t going to be their vacuum ,not after last time.

The bed was also filled with toys as well,it was hard to spot Calcite under all of it that is until he moved,shifting underneath the blankets with a soft groan,Swifi nearly pulled out his destabilizer upon hearing that but he had to hold his arm down as he watched Eraz sit on the bed,a soft gentle smile grew across their face.

“Hey Callie” Their feminine voice spoke,sounding like a welcoming mother,”wake up little guy,I got you food”

Calcite whimpers slightly,shifting more,”not hungry…”

Well that’s a first for Swifi to hear,Calcite wanting to consume everything in sight was his whole personality trait!

“geez you must be real sick then” They replied,moving the bowl closer to Calcite,”guess I have to eat this whole delicious homemade soup all by myself then~”

Once the wafer of the soup hit the purple glitch’s nose,he quickly sat up,kicking some of the toys to the floor,now that’s Calcite that they all knew.

“i-I can still eat i-it!” He stuttered out with a sniffle,face deeply burning purple.

Eraz laughs,it was genuinely sweet sounding,Not something Swifi hear during work hours,”of course Callie,I never doubted you”

It didn’t take long for Calcite to consume all of the soup,it was a disgusting sight for a the hologram,as the glitch finished his meal he spotted Swifi awkwardly standing around and his eyes lit up.

“Swifi you’re h-here?” He exclaims,beaming as if his sickness wasn’t affecting him.

Swifi however didn’t feel the same way,”unfortunately I am”

Calcite either was too stupid to recognize the comment or simply ignore it,sneezing which rattled the bed,”it’s n-nice to see you”

“you always see me” He retorts.

“outside” He explained,”now that you’re h-here maybe we can watch a movie?”

“ah Swifi might be busy for that” Eraz cuts in before the hologram could make a harsh remark.

Still,Swifi butts in,”indeed I am,I am only here to discuss the missing reports,now that I know why I shall take my leave”

Not that he’s wanted anyway.

Calcite smacks his hands on the bed,pouting,”but you’re always busy! We rarely spend time together outside of work!”

He blinked,his internet connection to this world was not strong so he may have froze or stutter and misheard,surely the glitch didn’t actually want to spend time with him? Calcite’s shouting cause him to go into a coughing fit to which eraz quickly comforted him, bringing a glass of water off the bedside table and holding it close.

“easy Callie” They soothed the other,”I know ya like being around people but sometimes work is more important”

He deflated in the bed,eyes drooped,he doesn’t say anything else as he took the drink.Swifi knew when to spot a liar,when someone faked certain emotions or feelings but Calcite did not have an ounce of deceit in his body,he was incapable of lying let alone lying well.

Either the sickness was getting to Calcite or he had a death wish.

He loudly sighs,”considering that all three of you are using this as an reason to be lazy,I suppose I can ‘watch’ a movie”

Calcite shoots back up,”really?! You’ll stay!?!”

“don’t make me regret it” He snarked back,crossing his arms

Eraz smirked,”ooohhh look at you being lazyyy~”

“don’t make me regret it” He repeats.

It seems he had to stoop down to their level,though knowing that someone appreciates him to some extent,even if that someone is his worst enemy,it was a complex matter but knowing this strange team like the back of his database,It’s simply what it is.

[stellarwaffles]

Digitally drew some chalk drawings I drew like a month ago or something

[mxvladdy]

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise.  The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission.  Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.  

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”  

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”  

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?”  What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?”  He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.  

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

[pagingevilspawn]

Thanks for getting back to me so quickly! I’m the one that asked about the fic recs ☺️ could you please do a fic where jolex have a cute tickle fight with all the fluff in the world?? Thank you 🙏🏼

oh, darlin’, don’t you ever grow up

this took so long to fulfill like holy crap. I’m so sorry about that. I had to improvise a bit, because jolex is so not the tickling kind of couple and much more of a ‘slap dat booty’ kinda pair you know? But hey, i don’t think that anyone is complaining about jolex babies, right? 

again, thank you all SO MUCH for 100 followers! i still can’t believe how crazy that is! this is super fluffy so yeah, i hope you enjoy it! also, tickle scenes are so much harder to write than i expected...

Alex Karev peeled his bloody surgical gloves off with a relaxed sigh, taking off his gown and tossing it into the bin while simultaneously telling a resident to finish closing up for him. When he gets back to the scrub room he leans against the sink, hands taking hold of the sturdy metal, closing his eyes for a minute because it feels like he can finally breathe. 

His surgery had gone on for seven hours. The kid on the table crashed twice and had lost so much blood at one point he didn’t think the boy was going to make it. Luckily, thanks to skilled hands, surprisingly helpful residents, and Meredith Grey, nine year old Mike Harper was going to be okay. He removes his scrub cap from his head, tucking it into his pants and running a hand through his hair before turning on the faucet and putting his hands under the water, scrubbing off with the bar. 

He shakes his hands dry, little water droplets flying here and there before exiting the room, traveling down the brightly lit halls of the surgical floors until he reaches the elevator. He clicks the button for the ground floor, where the parents are waiting. From there it was routine procedure. He tells the couple that their kid is gonna be alright, they cry tears of joy, they thank him, they ask when they can see their son, he informs them that they’re closing up right now, so he should be relocated to the PICU soon, and they thank him again before sitting back down. 

Alex makes his evening rounds on patients, goofing and joking with them until he’s done and can finally head home. He’d been on call for the past sixteen hours, and all he really wants to do is go home and see his girls.

Unfortunately, he learned from the nurses that Jo was pulled into an emergency surgery a few hours earlier, and had yet to finish, so he didn’t know how long it would be until she was done. He changes out of his scrubs and into his regular clothes, bidding a short goodbye to Meredith, who laid sprawled out on the attendings lounge couch, grumbling that she was trying to sleep and he was making too much noise to allow her to do so.

Adjusting his old, ratty jacket on his shoulders, he slips his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket, making his way up to the daycare where the littlest Karev was waiting. The worker, Patricia gives him a warm smile, sliding the sign out sheet across the counter. 

“Hey Doctor Karev! Picking up I'm assuming?” she gestures towards his attire, making him nod in response.

“Yeah. I know Jo usually finishes first on Fridays, but she got called in at the last minute.” he says, which earns him an understanding chuckle. 

“Well, I’ll be right out. She was just taking a brief nap, but don’t worry, she’s only been down for about fifteen minutes or so.” she reassures him.  

He nods, shoving his hands in his jeans, pulling out his phone and checking the time. 7:23 pm. It was getting closer to his daughter’s bedtime, so it would make sense that she would start to be getting tired. Alex smiles at his lockscreen, a picture of him, Jo, and their little girl at her two year old birthday party a few months ago. Jo had gone all out, decorating their yard with extravagant streamers, decorative backdrops, and a huge bouncy house. In the picture that stared back at him, Jo and their freshly two year old toddler were both wearing pink, Jo’s in the form of a sheer blouse, and their daughter’s in a frilly dress that Jo spent way more money than she should’ve on. Alex matched, wearing a pink tie and white button down. He had refused immensely at first, but after much pleading from the tiny girl, he gave in. Because what kind of father could say no to puppy dog eyes?

“Daddy!” he sees the little bundle of blue run towards him, causing him to sweep down and pull her into his arms, bunching the thick fabric she was wearing. 

“KK!” he exclaims, matching her enthusiasm, taking the backpack from Patricia, giving a silent nod to her as a way to say both ‘thank you’ and ‘goodnight’.   

His daughter bounced in his arms as they made their way through the door, asking to be let down a few seconds later. Donned in a Cinderella dress up gown and purple converse, Katrina Karev started to race down the hallway in all her glory, the mini ponytail that Jo had done that morning swinging from side to side as she prompted Alex to come catch her. He lets out a small laugh, jogging to catch up to her before she can potentially get in the way of nurses coming in and out of rooms, scooping her up again, making her let out a loud squeal and turn into a fit of giggles. 

“C’mon Kitty-Kat, we gotta go home.” he places her on the ground, holding her tiny hand in his. “No running. What have Mommy and I told you?”

Katrina sighs, puffing out her lips dramatically. “No running in hossal.” she grumbles. She had trouble pronouncing words that had a sharp sound to them, like ‘p’, ‘t’, and ‘j’, but both Alex and Jo found it quite adorable.  

“That’s right. Because Mommy and Daddy’s friends are working really hard to help everyone, and we don’t want to get in their way, right Kat?” he reminds her of the rules, because as much as both he and Jo wished that they could say that their child was perfectly well behaved, she wasn’t. It was simply what having a kid was like. He’d never met a child who listened to every word their parent’s said, followed every rule, and never talked back. And despite what so many different television programs liked to show, it was completely normal for kids to be that way, no matter how crazy it drove the adults. 

Kat murmurs in response, taking on her Dad’s grumpy persona. She wanted to run! She’d been inside of daycare with Scout all day, playing with blocks and crayons, which meant that she was stuck sitting. She wasn’t allowed to play tag in the circle room, no matter how much she asked Miss Lynn.

The duo makes their way to Alex’s car, unlocking it before lifting her up and strapping Katrina into her carseat, brushing back a couple strands of hair that had fallen in her face. He slides his way into his drivers side, revving up the car when Kat speaks from the back. 

“Music Daddy, music!” she cheers, a crooked grin across her face as she bounces around in her seat. 

Alex lets out a breath. As much as he loved his daughter, listening to the same exact Disney princess songs over and over were less than enjoyable. So far this week, he’d heard Let It Go twelve times, You're Welcome ten, and Be Our Guest seven, and those were just the most popular ones. He begrudgingly picks up his phone and puts on Into the Unknown, thankful that this was only his second time hearing it in the last couple of days. He swore that if Kat asked him to listen to Dyawne Johnson singing that damn song one more he was going to hurl himself out of the car. 

Little hums come from the backseat during certain parts of the song, and when the chorus plays through the car he mentally prepares himself for the yells that were to come. Poor Kat couldn’t sing, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. What kind of monster tells his two year old daughter that she sounded like a dying cat? Katrina Karev was good at a lot of things, (math, spelling, and playing dress-up just to name a few) singing just wasn’t one of them. 

With a more than relieved sigh he pulls into the driveway, turning off the car, and therefore the music. Whatever tiredness the toddler was feeling before had gone down the drain, so he knew it would be a while before he would be able to get her to bed. Kat unbuckles herself, getting out of the car and playing hopscotch with the homemade chalk version she and Jo made on the walkway up to the house’s door. She hops from one foot to the other, and Alex had never been more grateful for the fact that she had a good sense of balance. The last thing he wanted was Jo to come home to a bloody kneed Kat and have to explain to her that she fell while doing hopscotch. Honestly, he didn’t even think kids played that game anymore, but when Jo pulled out the sidewalk chalk a few days prior and started drawing, Kat was immediately hooked, and used every opportunity she could to hop across the little squares. Jo laughed when she saw how entranced the girl was, telling Alex that she had been the same way when she was a bit older, and the only thing that got her through some of the tougher houses was when she would go down the road and create a hopscotch game of her own. It became such a comfort in fact, that the tradition continued until she was a teenager. She told him that it would only seem right to share that little bit of joy from her childhood with her daughter.  

They make their way up the steps and Alex unlocks the door, flipping on the light switch as soon as it swings open. Chilly air greets them, since the house hadn’t been in use since earlier that day, and the temperature had been in the low fifties the past week in Seattle. He lets Kat toddle up the stairs, walking over to the thermostat that sat the hallway and cranking it up, knowing that if there was one thing his wife liked coming home to more than her family, it was her family in a warm and toasty house. 

“KK, you hungry?” he calls from the kitchen, being able to faintly hear footsteps padding around upstairs. He winces when he hears something thud to the ground, but assumes it was either Kat or her backpack. 

“Yeah!” the girl cheers from upstairs, causing Alex to chuckle and pull out some box mac and cheese from the cupboard. Kat had been a particularly picky eater lately, much to her parent’s annoyance, and had acquired a taste for a very limited amount of foods. Thankfully, she still liked mac and cheese, which was one of the few things both he and Jo could cook. Alex had gotten significantly better at cooking over the past year or so, but Jo was just as helpless as she was when she was in high school. Either way, both of them preferred takeout, but that wasn’t always an option when they had a two year old they had to take care of. 

“I’m making mac and cheese, change out of your clothes, put your jammies on, clean up your room, and it should be done by the time you are.” he calls up the steps, taking Kat heard him when a groan is what he received in response. Kat was all Jo in the fact that she was incredibly sassy, and not to mention stubborn. She was fine with changing into her pajamas, but she hated cleaning up her room. The way she saw it, it was like one big painting, with all of her toys and books scattered around, but to her parents, it looked like a tornado had come and hit her bedroom. No matter how many times the two of them put everything away, a couple days later Kat’s room only seemed to have gotten messier. Maybe they could blame it on the terrible twos, except rather than having her act out behavior wise, it was a complete destruction to her room. 

He pours the water into the pot, waiting for it to boil before adding the noodles. He pulls out his phone, skimming through emails and texts while the noodles cook, noticing a text from Jo that says that she just got off and was now heading home. 

Once the noodles were done, he pours in the cheese packet, followed by the milk and butter. He felt his mouth water, hunger from the day finally catching up to him. He was grateful that the box was large and Kat was so young, so that meant he could steal some of her dinner, and thankfully still have enough left over for Jo if she wanted some too. The last thing he had to eat was a small snack before his surgery hours ago. When the food finally came together, he turns off the stove, picking out a pink plastic bowl from the cabinet for Kat and a regular glass one for him. It was kind of funny how much their cupboards changed once they had their daughter. Half of what they owned was plastic and princess themed, cheap little things bought from places like the ninety-nine cent store. They quickly realized that the printed patterned bowls and cups from dollar stores worked just as well as the ten dollar four pack they purchased. Plastic spoons littered the drawers rather than just metal, little stars and hearts on the end of them different than tiny, intricate designs that they had gotten used to, since after their honeymoon they realized that one of the gifts they were registered for was real, fancy silverware. He liked those plastic spoons much more though. After all, the smile Kat got on her face when she asked for a princess spoon or fork never failed to melt his heart. 

Just as he placed Kat’s bowl on the island counter, the little girl comes bumbling down the stairs, dressed in her favorite Cinderella nightgown and stuffed monkey clutched in her hand. She practically runs to her stool, making grabby hands so Alex knew she needed to be picked up. He does so, placing her in the seat before she digs into her food, smiling as if it was the best mac and cheese she’s ever tasted. She shovels the food into her mouth, getting it all over her face, finishing it even quicker than Alex, all while talking about her day in daycare in only a way a parent would be able to understand. 

He laughs to himself, wetting a paper towel and wiping off her face, which proves to be a struggle because Kat couldn’t stop giggling. “Go put on some TV, I’ll clean up in here and we’ll watch something ‘till Mama gets home.” he ruffles her hair, messing up her ponytail, and Kat wastes no time before scurrying off the chair and dashing into the living room, climbing up on the couch and turning on the television, an old episode rerun of Max and Ruby playing. 

Alex finishes up in the kitchen, washing the bowls before putting them in the dishwater and starting it, since it was now a full load. He walks up the stairs to his and Jo’s room, throwing on a pair of pajama pants and a shirt before settling down on the couch, pulling his daughter close to him. Kat immediately snuggles into his side, taking a tiny fist and bawling it into his shirt, something she’d been doing since she was a baby. (Katrina would always be a baby in his eyes, it didn't matter how old she got.) 

Around halfway through the episode, he feels the little hand unclench his shirt, fingers start to violently attack his neck in strokes. He lets out a laugh, looking towards Kat, “What are you doing silly girl?” he grins. 

“Tickling you Daddy!” she cheers, continuing to try to get a laugh off of him. 

He opens his mouth dramatically, eyes widening as he takes in her delighted giggles. “Oh, Kitty-Kat, you don’t know what you’ve just done,” he sighs. Kat stops, looking up at her dad, confused. 

“You’ve unleashed,” he meets her eyes, breaking out into a wide smile, “the tickle monster!” he pulls her towards his tickling her feet, sides, and neck all at once, the little girl's loud laughs filling the air. 

“No tickle monster daddy!” she squeals, squirming around, trying to stop the attack on her sides, laughs echoing off the empty house. 

At that moment, Alex makes eye contact with a grinning Jo, who was just stepping through the front door. At the sound of her daughter’s laughs she felt wide awake, and she knew that by Alex’s mischievous look she could join in on the fun. She silently heads toward the couch, plopping down and starting her own fingers assault on the little one’s sides. 

“Mommy help!” Kat squirms once she sees her mom, looking directly at her with eyes that were a mirror image of her own. 

Jo pulls the girl into her arms, planting a big kiss on her head, leaving behind remnants of her cherry chapstick. “Mommy’ll save you KK,” she grins, only to bite her lip and pull away. 

“But Mommy is a tickle monster too!” she flips Kat around with ease, bringing her little feet up to her face and blowing raspberries on them like she did when she was still a baby. 

“No no Mommy no!” the girl giggles, thrashing around in a failed attempt to wiggle out of her grasp. Just to her luck, her dad decides to join in again, giggles turning into loud laughs that came from her little belly, a grin so wide neither one of them had ever seen it before. 

“I’m gonna eat you!” Jo presses little kisses all up the girls, legs acting as if they were bites, making her laugh even more in the process. Jo gnaws at the skin, making pops with her lips and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Mmm,” she hums face scrunching up playfully, “delicious” she grins, the sound of her daughter giggles filling her ears until it was all she could hear.  

Alex and Jo share a look. This was one of those moments, the ones where all they wanted to do was just pause time and stay in this one freeze-frame for the rest of their lives. It was moments like these they wanted Kat to stay this way forever, this perfect age and unconditional love she had for everything. 

But for now, these pure, unfiltered moments of happiness were all they would need.

[crispy-ghee]

Forgive my absolute novice question, but those environment studies are BEAUTIFUL! I've never done them but I want to try, since it's good practice. What's your process, do you have any advice?

Thank you! No reason to apologize either. I can give a glimpse into my process, but fair warning it’s quite messy (I did this one quickly after work as an example) and I might not have the besssst explanations for everything. 

Everything under the cut!

I do these off of photos I find on google images, since i’m not using them for profit or anything like that. I kind of decide what i wanna try and study (tropical scenes, forests, mountains, whatever) and then just look for an image that strikes me. 

Something to note when you’re going into this is to have some idea of what you want to try and focus on. If there’s a specific thing you want to work on or capture when you do this. For me, it was trying to get better at seeing and picking colors, plus maybe fiddling w/ how mountains and rocks work haha

Having a specific goal makes doing studies easier because you don’t feel like you have to focus on basically everything when you’re painting. When the end goal is just ‘get better,’ that’s a lot of stuff you have to try and get right or pay attention to! Doing things one at a time is good.

So anything like...Wanting to understand color, wanting to understand shadows, wanting to understand light, wanting to know how trees work, or even something like ‘i saw this photo and i like how the light hits this one particular spot and i wanna capture how that spot feels’--just give yourself something to focus on!

Anyhoo, I picked this one. wanted to try a desert scene. My focus, again, is trying to understand color a lil better (kinda gave myself a rule, which was ‘no colorpicking’)

I work on a really tiny canvas btw like... 3 inches by 2 inches, and with a kinda fat chalk brush with pressure opacity on. This makes sure i can’t get fiddly on it. 

Usually start with a really basic composition sketch that is definitely gonna be inaccurate, but that’s okay since that’s not what i’m doing this for lol

a lil more ‘detail’ pulling out the forms of biggest interest. sometimes this includes the a shape of a large shadow, like at the bottom! just the big important sections of the composition that you see. 

I start laying in the colors really messily, again going for BIG at first. Right now the focus is establishing those big spaces in the composition. Right now this also includes some of the stronger shadows, since those are important to the form of things. The colors I choose to lay down vary, but usually go for the sort of ‘mid tone’ that i can suss out, maybe a a bright hilight, and then a deep shadow. 

lol okay this is definitely a jump forward. But you can see i focused on the mountains. I ended up painting over that tree because it wasn’t in the right place anyway.

Anyway, TIPS on how I approached this: 

TRY NOT TO GIVE A SHIT OVER WHETHER SOMETHING IS SUPER ACCURATE. Just make sure that it reads!

Focused first on laying in the darkest shadows, bc those really inform a lot about the shape of the thing. 

A lot of squinting and stepping back, and also making the reference picture zoomed out small. This really makes the small detail disappear and helps keep you from getting caught up and confused by it. Sometimes you can eliminate certain details, or combine them with nearby details. 

I added some new colors here and there, but nothing too strong. I avoided introducing too many different colors though, and most of what i had was a result of mixing the colors I already. If you add a very different color, that creates an area of high contrast. Which can be great, if that’s the focus and you want to hilight the area, tho! 

Tried not to draw outlines. In fact, I made sure most of my strokes were downwards or sideways to make sure that I had to focus on things as blocks of color. 

How do you do manage the shape w/out outlines? One thing to remember! You perceive form through contrast! Basically, in an area, how does the shadow butt up against the light? Look for those edges/places where they meet, and then think about how different those areas look to each other. Are the colors really different from each other? Are they similar? Is the edge hard, or is it more gradual? Look for those places where things meet!

Keeping in mind that color is relative. When you’re trying to figure out what color something is, peer at the color itself and try to isolate it. For instance a color may seem grey to you, but maybe it’s blue, and it looks much more desaturated bc you have it up against a really warm, bright color. Maybe what you think is a green is actually a red or a brown. SOME TIPS: 

If you’re not focused on color as your study, feel free to colorpick off the photo! You’ll see the difference between what you perceived and what the true color was, and you’ll learn from that!

I’ve gotten good enough to be able to peer at colors and separate them in my brain from the rest of the picture. If you can’t do that, then you can mask it out physically in photoshop so that it’s literally isolated! You’ll get way better at picking up on color differences this way, and then can work towards doing it without having to physically mask things. 

Questions to ask yourself when trying to figure out a color: Does it feel warmer or cooler? What hue is it (does it look purple or purple or red to you)? How saturated does it look?

Shadows usually gradiate. Shadows are made bc they block out light. So they’re darker when it’s harder for light to get into a space. So the further away from an edge or a crease, the lighter the shadow becomes.

Be wary about your colors getting too muddy, bc that happens when you’re mixing colors. Step back now and again, and if they look like they’re getting too grey or brown, feel free to paint some saturated color back into it.

Anyway, I added the trees (spent less time on them bc they’re unimportant to me lol) and cleaned up a couple other things...

And the last step is just creating a clean border around the painting to make it look clean! 

And there’s my study. 

ALSO

Also

the most most most important step

is to close the fucking Reference you were working off of and not look at it after that, because you’re gonna like what you did way better as its own thing when you’re not comparing it to the real deal lol

Anyway...I think that’s all i have to say? Idk. If something’s not clear, feel free to ask, but that’s what I got. This painting was pretty rushed so it’s not the *best* representation of everything, but hopefully it got most of the point across. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #340

“wash the poison from off my skin  /  show me how to be whole again”

What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I have this oddly specific memory of bringing my little Snorlax plushie for one in pre-k. I remember thinking everyone thought I was weird for liking Pokemon as a girl. Do you remember losing your first tooth? I don't. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I think I was addicted to World of Warcraft at a point, but it's honestly hard to tell. My depression was just so abysmal that it was the one thing I got even a smidge of not even joy, but active distraction out of because the options of what you can do in the game are essentially limitless. Are you afraid to pop a balloon? Not really, but it does make me jump because I don't like loud noises. Name one person you’d like to see this month. Bitch we fighting Covid, stay away from me. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. Which was better: the first The Lion King or the second? They're nearly tied, honestly, but I prefer the original. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? I KNOW my maternal grandmother didn't, and I don't believe any other grandparent did, either. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? You mean like, a gas station or dollar store? Something small like that? In that case, I'll usually look for a Mountain Dew Voltage sometimes along with something Reese's-related. Do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? My cat, absofuckinglutely. He so obviously loves me. I know my snake doesn't though, considering reptilian brains just physically aren't capable of creating that emotion. She does, however, obviously trust me and definitely seems to enjoy coming out of her terrarium and thus hanging out by me. Bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I loved drawing with chalk, but I like bubbles more. I just love how they catch light and have such beautiful colors to share. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. Are you proud of your body? FUCK no. I wish I still was, goddammit. I used to be so fit, and it's funny, because even back then at like, 118 lbs at 5'4'', I thought I was kinda chubby. Like bitch shut the fuck up. Watermelon or cherries? I honestly don't like either, but I'll definitely pick watermelon over cherries. They're disgusting. What is your all-time favourite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? Biiiiiitch guess lmao. I think everyone has, though. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? Definitely 3TEETH. Love 'em. Favourite brand of cookies? Hm, good question. They've gotta be good at making SOFT chocolate chip cookies, though. I don't enjoy crunchy cookies nearly as much. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I don't really know. Oh, y'know, chatting with Edgar Allan Poe would probably be cool. Do you pay for your own things? I literally can't. It's embarrassing. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? No. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? Certain sexual things I've done, probably. When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Of course. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I felt that way in my friendship with Colleen, but no romantic relationships. What would you consider unforgivable? Rape. Like no, go to hell. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Pre-Covid, yeah. What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Probably how heavily judged women are for having ANYTHING "wrong" with their appearance. You could be five pounds over what is "normal" for your height and you're seen as fat. One strand of body hair, and you're disgusting. Bushy eyebrows, you're now manly. I could go on and on. Do you think that weed/marijuana should be legalized? Yes. Rate your typing speed on a scale from 1 - 10? 10. Do you enjoy tanning? Ugh, no. Just sitting there doing nothing but sweating. Have you ever written anybody an anonymous note? I have not. What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeah; we used to have one. It was the best when we lived in the woods. Do you blow dry your hair or do you let it air out? I just let it air dry. Candles or incense? I prefer incense. Can you juggle? No. Your favorite vegetable? Broccoli. Do you catch lizards? No; I don't like terrifying wildlife. I'd much rather just take pictures of the little guys and let them go about their business. If we returned to a world without internet, what aspect of online life would you miss the most? YouTube, haha. It's more unique and personal entertainment than television, imo. Are you craving anything aside from food, and if so, what? I want a new piercinggggg. What was the last change you made to your lifestyle? I'm *trying* to get back into regularly making art, along with reading. I'm also really trying to implement drinking more water into my day. What was the last thing you gave up doing? *shrug* What was the last thing to boost your self-esteem? What sort of things typically make you feel good about yourself? It really, really helped to hear my PHP group enjoy my poem about gay rights so much. I was so terrified and did NOT want my therapist to share it, but it turned out being very beneficial. To answer the second question, it's pretty much stuff like I just mentioned: positive reactions to things I create. When it comes to food, do you prefer crunchy or softer textures? Definitely softer. Do you prefer savory or sweet things for breakfast? Hm. Depends on the day, ig. What is something small that you take extremely personally? I'm blanking. What was going on the last time you couldn’t sleep? I just... couldn't sleep. That's not rare for me. Have you drawn anything recently? I recently drew a picture of a still from Rammstein's "Mutter" music video, and I'm now working on Sara's 'kat Alucard. If you're going somewhere close by, do you walk? No. One simply does not walk in this town and not fear being shot. Do you prefer colorful notebooks over plain ones? I like colorful ones, particularly those with a nice pattern or something on it. What's your most ambitious goal? I'd consider wanting to be a successful freelance photographer to be rather ambitious. Do you know anyone named Alex? Well, knew, by this point. One of my closest online friends that just got a boyfriend and fell off the face of the planet when we used to talk every day. I'm still hurt about it, honestly. What's your favorite kind of pie? I don't like pie because of the crust being so, well... crusty and crumbly. Have you ever chatted someone up and scored a date? No. How far would you go with someone you just met? Not very far at all. All you're getting is a hug, if even that. What's your favorite meal to have for dinner? I mean, it depends on what I feel like having. I don't have a set favorite meal. What do you daydream about? The future, mostly. People I miss. Have you ever known someone online and then met them in person? If so, which website did you meet on? Yes, Sara. <3 We met via YouTube back when it had much more social connection. Have you ever been to the beach? Yeah, a good number of times. When was the last time you were sick and what illness did you have? I don't believe I've been ill in any sort of way since I had that ungodly ear infection a few years ago. Have you ever been kicked out of somewhere? Yeah, Colleen's house. Mom once tried kicking me out of the car one night otw home, but I didn't listen. Have you ever intentionally trolled? No. How many siblings do your parents have? Mom has two brothers and I think one sister, and Dad has one sister. Who last held your hand? My niece or nephew, dragging me somewhere, haha. Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies? No, not interested. What was the last thing you watched on YouTube? I'm watching John Wolfe's playthrough of Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. It's so funny how like... every let's player I watch doesn't enjoy the game, like they miss the incredible symbolism and shy away from the advanced language, and sometimes it's just frustrating to watch them; I only do because I enjoy the game and want to see more people experience it and relive it vicariously. It's very high on my list of favorite games. What sport do you find yourself best at? I wouldn't know; I haven't played any sports in years. I was pretty good at softball as a kid, though. Do you think makeup on guys is freaky or sexy? My opinion shouldn't matter; a man can wear makeup whenever he damn well pleases without worrying what others think. But anyway, I tend to find it attractive, especially if it's goth makeup. Have you ever been accused of a crime you did not commit? No. Do you like pickles? I love dill pickles. What was the craziest moment of your life? Probably just lying in that hospital bed following my OD, my mom and two best friends just sitting there with me. It was such a weird, weird feeling. Like I was just so done, frustrated beyond what I can say. I remember thinking it was almost funny, just how it all built up and went wrong. Where do you spend most of your time? In my room on my bed. What is your favorite muffin? Chocolate chip. Would you ever get a boob job? I already know when/if I lose the weight I want to, it will be kind of a big deal to me and my atrocious body image to get a breast lift. Being overweight ~does things~ you know, and god knows I want every trace of it that can be erased gone. Would you ever go on a reality TV dating show? That's a massive "no" from me, buddy. Would you rather be inside or outside? It depends on where I am and the temperature outside, but generally, inside. Do you like the current president? Well, I voted for him, so I can't shit-talk much. I don't know the true depths of him as a person and all he stands for, though; when I decided I needed to vote, I just did some research on his core values. I don't have any complaints yet, from what I've seen at least, which isn't a lot. Do you whiten your teeth? I've used whitening strips before, but I don't now because they're not that effective. If it's financially plausible at some point in my life, teeth whitening is another thing I want to have medically done because of my previous horrible self-care. My teeth have a clear yellow tint and I hate it. Do you get cold easily? No; it's actually the opposite: I get hot easily. What was the worst sickness you ever had? Probably this one stomach bug I had where I just threw up relentlessly. Like eventually barely even bile would come up; it was just dry heaving. My stomach muscles were in agony. Was your childhood wasted by something? No, thankfully. Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? A normal person. The idea of having such a sudden death stresses me out for multiple reasons; I mostly don't want my family to just be suddenly devastated, and I honestly want to come to peace with the fact I was dying. Like, find my life's own closure instead of just having it ripped away. Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? Jesus, I sure hope not. Do you have a gag reflex? A very strong one. Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? I've wondered before what the effects of weed would be like for me, but "fantasize" is definitely the wrong word. Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? It'd be up to my partner, honestly, because I'm fine with either. What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? I never did dares because I thought they were stupid. Like I'm not gonna do dumb shit just to show you I can. Do you know anyone who has been raped? I think I might? Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? Yeah. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer. Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. Headphones are just big and clunky and in the way when you use a laptop in bed, plus they irritate my skin. I like how earbuds actually go in your ears for more direct hearing. Would you ever consider adopting a child with a severe mental illness? If I wanted children, no, because I don't think I'm capable to give a child like that adequate care, being so mentally ill myself. I wouldn't want to risk worsening their condition. Favorite thing to do with a significant other? Play games together, particularly cute multiplayer ones that are more about the experience of playing together versus getting past difficult obstacles and such. Like for example, one of my favorite memories with Jason is simply playing Little Big Planet together. Favorite ice cream topping? I don't like many toppings on my ice cream, but I do love melted hot fudge. First boyfriend/girlfriend’s name? Aaron. Do you support PETA? Considering they are incredibly self-righteous extremists, no. Do you believe in the Big Bang Theory? Well, I believe in some sort of "god" figure that created the universe, so I don't think so. A condensed ball of nothing exploding to create something so extravagant? It sounds pretty far-fetched to me. But then again, maybe that semblance of a "god" I believe in created the universe through that, idk. It doesn't really matter now, though, does it. What happened happened, I'm not very concerned with it. What insect can you not stand the site of? It's more so larvae that I can't stand the sight of, like maggots and stuff. They make me squirm. Do you like Doctor Who? I've only seen one or two episodes, so I can't say. Do you approve of gay marriage? Of course I do. I'm bisexual and would like to get married, so I might marry a woman. Are you into politics? I'm really not. Do you think the world is ending soon? Nah, even though it sure does feel like it sometimes. Ever been to a mosh pit? No, they don't seem very fun at all. Do you like to debate? NO. NO NO NO. Do you like the band System of a Down? Yeah, I do. Are you German? It's a big part of my heritage. Do your parents like your best friend? Yes. Who’s someone you can act your complete self around? Sara, 100%. She's the only person I feel entirely comfortable around when it comes to being myself. Do you believe in Friday the 13th? I don't believe in there being any supernatural power to it, no. Who is your favorite rapper? Eminem. What age is your youngest aunt? Uhhhh I have no idea. Do you like bowling? Sure, it's fun. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? I do. What shows or characters scared you as a child? Ghostface from the Scream series was my worst fucking nightmare. I couldn't even see pictures of him without crying. The King Ramses guy from Courage the Cowardly Dog also gave me a number of nightmares. Something about the way he was animated was very unnatural and unnerving to me.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #7)

(cw: alcohol, drugs) <-Previous | Next-> ------------

12/22/87   2:22 PM

Hey.

Somewhere in that foggy timeline, I gave up trying to forget. I just started looking for you. 

I’d firmly made up my mind that I was gonna track you down and whoop your ass for all this. What I’d do after that, I didn’t care to plan -- figured I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. But I’m sure that I wanted to know where you were going, if you were ditching this place. And deep down, I wanted to go with you.

Looking for you was the only thing that made sense to me. It was all I could actually occupy my time with that moved in any understandable direction. So it became paramount.

It wasn’t frantic, or anything, not right away. After all, how far could you have gone? Every game ends somewhere, and I probably know the ins and outs of this arcade better than Litwak himself. If you were anywhere, I could find you. The old cliche occurred to me, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” My boot was going up your ass, and that was final. 

At first, I just checked all our regular game jumping haunts and hiding places. Sweeping small games was easy, almost effortless. Not really many places to hide in Centipede or Donkey Kong. But wider games like Front Line, Ghosts ‘n’ Goblins, Dragon’s Lair, I really had to get organized and methodical with. I’d take a notebook with me, draw a map from the highest point I could fly to, and, you know, chart stuff. Make sure I wouldn’t go in circles.

Staying focused was way harder than it could have been. I’d cut back on drinking since my attempted memory purge, but I still needed it to sleep, and being drunk or hungover really hindered my progress. So, I thought I’d cut the booze out completely, you know, tough it out, whatever. All that happened was, I still felt really sick, and couldn’t sleep again. So I was sick and sluggish anyway. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, huh? I didn’t let it stop me -- slow is better than stopped.

But it seemed like the longer the search went on, the worse that nauseous anger got in my belly. 

It was freakin’ frustrating, okay, and sprites who knew I was looking for you would give me these looks, these Dev-damned looks. Some of them just scowled like they thought I was up to something, and others looked like they thought they were better than me, but were sad about it. It was freakin’ pity, is what it was. And whenever I saw it, I wanted to strangle something adorable. More than that, I wanted to skewer you for making me do this. For taking a swing at my pride like that -- you know how pathetic that must have looked? Oh, here’s Make-it Mavis, coughing like some sob-story orphan, still looking for her obviously dead friend. I actually remember calling your name once or twice, can you believe that?

Fix-it even approached me about it a few times, ‘cause I guess he’d seen or heard or who even cares. Had to keep dodging touches and hugs while he tried to get a heart-to-heart going, as usual, and he said crap like, “This is bad for you, get some rest, stop looking, Mavy, he’s gone.”

It all just made me more determined to prove all those idiots wrong, and to punch you square in the dick.

In an effort to stay awake and speed things up, on top of the Heals I’d already been making good use of, I started taking Boosts. They killed the drowsiness and doubled my progress. All that extra energy really didn’t help with the jumpiness or rage, though. 

Under Boosts’ influence or not, I got into fights, a lot of fights. They were a pretty good outlet. I’d even throw myself into fights that had already started, and there was no shortage of those. Tensions have run high since you left, and violence has really skyrocketed. It’d be a freakin’ party if you hadn’t effectively put me on probation. But the Surge Protector started riding my ass constantly, stopping me almost every time I entered or left a port. Too many times, he’d catch me coming out of a game all roughed up from brawling, and he’d dock me fifty creds. Fifty freakin’ creds. Even if I wasn’t the one at fault.

I was all too aware of the risk of getting caught stealing buffs, despite my proficiency. A buff arrest ain’t pretty. My pupil edits are so convincing, it’s only happened to me twice in my life. But both times, I was put under cabinet arrest. I wasn’t too keen on that happening again, what with freedom being a requirement for finding you, and all that. It’d be hard to get anything done locked up in FFjr. for Devs know how long. So I did give thought to the safer route, for a bit, and tried to find dealers that would speak to me.

But tightened security really made stealing buffs risky for everyone, and all the dealers started charging accordingly, which was over double what I ever charged, back in the day. They seemed in pretty good spirits, though, ‘cause business was plainly booming. Newbies were popping up everywhere, I guess ‘cause everyone was so freaked out, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel for ways to cope. Dealers could charge them whatever they wanted -- not like the newbs knew any better. I’d see the dumb suckers getting caught leaving games high all the time. They’d just let their pupils shine like freakin’ flashing neon signs going, “LOOK AT ME! I’M HIGH AS BALLS!”

And then they’d make the rookie mistake of going too big, too fast, and fry their binary on GC. A few times, sometimes even in plain sight, like on a bench in a terminal, I’d find sprites tweaking out something fierce, obviously pumped full of the stuff. They’d be lying there, wide eyes darting around, pupils like blue headlights, drooling and glitching and twitching and kicking like some wounded animal. It was kinda cool to watch, at the time.

But, needless to say, I steered clear of the stuff myself. It’d be hard to get anything done like that. I couldn’t afford to throw my credits away on things I could get myself, anyway, what with the SP bleeding me dry. The obvious solution to that would be to cash in on the desperate newbies by dealing my own Shields and Lifts again, but, hey! No one wanted to talk to me! 

So, I took the risk, and just relied on the same craftiness that’s kept me alive this long. I stole Boosts and Heals where I found them, and always made sure to get back to my game before crashing. I kind of had this hair-raising feeling about letting my guard down out in the open, with the state the arcade was in. 

I chalked it up to the Boosts making me paranoid.

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day Twenty-Nine: Injured + Endgame

Welcome to day twenty-nine of inktober, and holy FUCK its. A good one. I spent hours on this, writing the end to my Pirate!Queen concept. It’s so good, y’all, read all four parts in order please. Warnings for graphic depictions of violence, narrator having a real bad existential crisis, thoughts about the afterlife, self doubt, death, body horror kinda.

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

Captain Avery’s plan to destroy the Armada was, in a word, infuriating. 

The old captain was content to send the young pirate out on his orders- without backup! Just a crew led by a captain who couldn’t be older than seventeen. Any leads or intel came from ‘allies’ who were simply spineless pirates who owed Captain Avery favors. 

Even Queen, who was a member of Kane’s court in the past, who was created to never had an independent thought in her life, knew this was all wrong. She took the lead, fully accepting the pseudonym of ‘Reyna Ferro’, budding pirate captain, with her mysterious and loyal crew of the Pyrite Swan. 

(She ignored the fluttering, ecstatic part of her that reveled in having a ‘normal’ name. How she never wanted to go back to being ‘Queen’. Never wanted to use the name Kane gave her ever again.)

Captain Reyna Ferro seemed to be the only fully competent pirate out of the triad of captains, once she started giving orders. She organized sieges on docked fleets of resting Armada soldiers, got them the useful intel and blueprints (mostly from her own perfect memory), and she made sure that Captain Avery didn’t take it too far.

(A giant, mocking puppet show to draw the Armada soldiers to battle them in Skull Island? Really?)

...Reyna had only recently realized that Avery was likely presenting these plans just to hear how incredulous her tone could get in response. Organic, human pirates could be so difficult to figure out. 

Even now, planning what would likely be their last official mission of this endeavor, Reyna was taking charge. Captain Avery hadn’t even bothered to show up.

“All of the Armada have fallen back, following ingrained protocols to hide in a last resort fortress and begin creating more clockworks to bolster their numbers and buy time. While we were waiting and recovering from the last battle in Monquista, where we took out almost all of their ships and unfortunately lost the young pirate’s ship as well- I got intel from a spy.” 

Reyna took a breath, staring down at the vast array of maps and internally hoping they didn’t question who was spying. She wouldn’t want to reveal her connections on the inside. When this quest started they agreed that Reyna would get any captured soldiers, and she had been working with those very soldiers, turning them slowly towards her side. She let them secretly join her crew, or go back to the Armada as a spy, or gave them a secret hideout to live in peace.

In a way, Reyna was glad she was so adept at lying at this point. Hiding the crew’s identities- and her own- was a matter of life or death. They’d lost far too much to the Armada at this point for the pirates they allied with to not slaughter them outright at the reveal of their clockwork identities. 

Reyna grabbed a thin knife with her gloved hand, casually walking across Captain Avery’s office, trying not to think about how familiar the room had become to her. She let the knife point trail across the large map of Cool Ranch and its skyway. 

“Cool Ranch? Isn’t that a bit out of their usual locations for forts?” Sterling, Reyna’s first mate, asked.

“Yeah but think about it.” Zircon replied, sitting casually on Avery’s ornate desk, slightly damaged mace in hand. “Big, open country. Lots of mines to hide in, could go out where no one would hear you. Find a ghost town to reinforce or whatever.”

Bonnie Anne, one of the young pirate’s crewmates, nodded. Her large, canon-like weapon was leaning casually against Avery’s desk, and she was leaning into Zircon’s side. “Lots of shadowy characters in Cool Ranch. They could easily spread out too- dark corners in saloons, becoming farm hands or apprentices- they wouldn’t have to show their face, just work and plan their next moves.”

Reyna tuned out the conversation between crews, tracing coordinates until she found the building marked by a small square, the one she was looking for. She stabbed the knife into the spot, the amber handle and silver blade glinting in the sunlight of a nearby window.

She turned around, grabbing a piece of charcoal, and began writing small neat notes on the map. “It’s actually an abandoned railway station, right by an abandoned mine. They’re grouped together, reinforcing the area like Zircon said.” 

If Reyna could grin, she would. The sight of Zircon and Bonnie Anne fist-bumping was something she wanted to imprint in her brain forever. Zircon had become much more outgoing and trusting since this all started, becoming fast friends with the fox privateer. 

Sterling sighed, toying with an antique telescope. “They’re likely re-purposing the few machines from the mine, and they can transport any materials they need far too easily for my liking.”

“Exactly.” The young pirate murmured, then went back to silently arguing with Egg Shen about something small- probably eating just oatmeal for breakfast, with no fruit, opposing Egg Shen’s exacting health standards.

Reyna pondered the railroad line that went through the huge island of Cool Ranch, all huge plateaus and gorgeous vistas. “They might have dynamite too. Let’s fight fire with fire here, Bonnie. Get some dynamite of your own by the end of the day, please.”

“End of the day?” Sterling asked, a bit alarmed.

“Yes.” Reyna said sternly, turning to face the room, all eyes on her. The dozen or so of the young pirate’s crew (the rest in Skull Island’s infirmary), and her own crewmates in the brash and protective Zircon, the curious and anchoring Sterling, the quiet and observant Malachite, who even now is sitting perched on a tall bookshelf, watching.

“Timing is essential here. We need to get in on their next shipment, at dusk tomorrow. We hide in a car, ambush the clockworks collecting the cargo, and move on from there. Spread out, follow the marks I’ve made on these blueprints of the area. Destroy weapons and clockworks being made, capture the rest. My crew will deal with them.” Reyna stopped, weighing down the blueprints and making a few amendments to the lines on it.

Egg Shen nodded at this, getting up and examining the papers. “We trust your planning, Captain Ferro. You haven’t steered us wrong yet.” 

The nods that followed from the young pirate and his crew were disarming. 

Reyna stepped back, standing awkwardly due to her prosthetic leg. “But- most of your crew are in the infirmary- you lost your ship because of my plans. I understand if you want to change this, you do not have to-”

“Relax, Reyna.” Bonnie Anne offered, gesturing around at the others in the room. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t already trust you with our life. If we had made the plans- well, we would have had much more trouble without you and your amazing crew.”

If Reyna could blush, she would be bright red right now. 

“Yeah Captain!” Zircon said, tilting her head in a way that conveyed childishness. “Our crew is pretty amazing, but it’s nothing without you guiding us.”

Sterling and Malachite were nodding, and Reyna was slightly worried for her internal processing, with how long it was taking to understand and absorb what they were saying. With stuttered thanks, she quickly turned everyone back to the plan, delegating roles for every pirate on the mission.

Bonnie Anne and Malachite, who would climb on top of the train cars when the ambush strikes, and gun down any backup from the Armada. 

Egg Shen and Sterling would work with the young pirate on finding the leader, and the workshop for clockwork creation.

The twins, Rhodium and Rhenium, alongside Nanu Nanu and Emmet of the young pirate’s crew, would be a distraction on the south side, near the large ravine. 

Everyone else was nodding, happy to follow Reyna’s orders. It made her feel nervous, knowing that failure or success rested on her plan, on her shoulders. Some part of her wanted to just stop, to sit down and tell someone else to take responsibility, to do the hard job. The restless part of her, the one that drove her to piracy in the first place, that filled her with wonder at beautiful nature scenery, and rage at how governments and outlaws alike take advantage of the poor. 

She would keep moving, keep planning, only to appease that dark pit of dissatisfaction with life. 

The waiting, right before a mission truly went underway, was what killed her inside. It took Zircon’s firm grip on her hand, Spectrolite’s silly puns, and Osmium’s toothless threats to every annoyance, to calm her down. Her crew, her strange crew of ex-battle angels, of ex-dolls of the Armada, all of them like family, they truly had a calming effect on her, made her remember her purpose. 

They took up half of the large storage train car. Rhodium and Rhenium were playing tic-tac-toe with chalk on the floor and far more threats than proper, Meteorite was checking her ammo compulsively, doing it again and again to ensure she would not forget, Stichtite was jokingly adding ridiculous ideas to the plan, Sterling nodding seriously as she listened, only to laugh when it got truly bizarre. 

There were a few more that joined her. Rehabilitated clockworks saved from their missions by being captured and handed over to Reyna and her crew, ones who wanted to repent, to atone for their cruel actions under another’s order. They remained nameless, still new to their sentience and trying to find themselves, these three clockworks. One was a battle angel, like the rest of the crew, one was a musketeer, and another was a buccaneer, halberd resting by his side always.

Reyna felt the train, racing across the Cool Ranch countryside, begin to slow. Everyone became alert, even the dozing young pirate.

Reyna was tempted to follow in Egg Shen’s footsteps and bother the young pirate into getting eight hours of sleep a night an eating their fruits and vegetables upon seeing the dark circles under their eyes. 

The train rumbled as it stopped, the only other sound being the breathing of the organic pirates, and the cicadas singing. The sun was setting, sky a dusky red, light falling. It was time.

As they heard the exacting footsteps of clockworks, people hid in storage containers, behind them. Bonnie Anne and Malachite climbed out on the opposite side from where the clockworks would be approaching, the two clambering up onto the roof for a better vantage point.

Rhodium and Rhenium were looking at each other, conversing in a strange twin speak that seemed to transfer even to clockworks, and they moved forward in sync as the door slowly opened. Nanu Nanu and Emmet followed behind the two, slightly reluctant, but willing nonetheless. Zircon, next to Reyna, shifted in excitement, and Reyna knocked their heads together lightly, a soft ‘I’m here’, practically a kiss on the cheek. A common clockwork display of affection the crew had developed.

Zircon looked at Reyna, and bumped her back, right before the fighting started.

It was loud- the twin clockworks were always loud, calling confusing orders, yelling nonsense, acting like it was a game. The rest of the pirates stampeded out of the train car, hopping onto the dusty ground of the plateau. The clockworks, a neat, matching group of five, were in pieces.

The visual, slowly cloaked by the night’s darkness, made Reyna wish she could vomit. It was disgusting, unnatural- to see bodies- ones so similar to her own, ones that bled oil, that were made of metals, had the potential to feel- to see them shattered, it hurt. To see pieces of a being that once had a consciousness, even if it was controlled by others, to know a personality was behind that, hidden deep, it made something in Reyna shatter a tiny bit every single time.

The only thing that gave her solace every time was knowing that those Armada clockworks were free now, free from the trappings of being a soldier, of only following orders, having no free will. At least, if there was a personality in there, it would not have to suffer, would not have to watch as their body was controlled by something they could not fight.

The group continued on nonetheless, twins taking point and dragging Nanu Nanu and Emmet along for the ride, playing with firecrackers and yelling to draw attention

Sterling chuckled under her breath, but split off from Reyna’s side, moving to join the young pirate and Egg Shen on their mission to find the workshop. From above they heard Bonnie Anne’s exclamations about the twins doing their thing, and most of the secret clockwork pirates were snickering, before returning to their jobs.

Personally, Reyna was glad to lose herself in the violence, the strategy of it. Her sword was sharp, mind sharper, and she ached to prove it to herself once again.

Maybe she was too eager, in the end.

Maybe that was her fatal flaw, some twisted kind of hubris, some need to prove her own humanity to herself. 

Some need to feel alive, and believe it.

Reyna was trapped in a tar pit of self pity, of doubt, of existential horror and comedy in the same suffocating breath. 

She was slumped in the train car, having retreated to their getaway vehicle once she realized the gravity of her wounds. One of the newly created clockworks had been a monstrosity to behold- some strange, hulking creature of screeching metal and regurgitated oil, a terrifying thing. Reyna was selfish, was just plain stupid, and didn’t run back to get other to help her and the young pirate, she just rushed in, sword at the ready, some strange synthetic adrenaline in her system. 

Reyna Ferro, Queen, just some upgraded battle angel, just some dysfunctional clockwork- she rushed in, like an idiot, like an impulsive human, side by side with the most impulsive human she had ever met, the young pirate captain. They had fought hard, fought well, almost downed the thing, but it was clever. Reyna had to shield the young pirate with her own body, the sound of screeching metal against metal, hopefully something the other pirate had mistaken for armor against weapons, was all Reyna knew for a moment.

When she became aware, the young pirate simply helped her up, and defeated the clockwork beast, telling Reyna to go back to safety. 

Reyna was done for.

She could hear the pirates returning, the cheers of victory, the few stray firecrackers and loads of dynamite being set off, followed by hysterical laughter. They had torches, lanterns, with them. They would know.

Reyna was leaking black, bleeding oil into the layers of concealing clothes and armor that hid her clockwork status. It wouldn’t work for long, not with her wound.

She wouldn’t work for long with this wound, a ravine cut diagonally down her abdomen, metal curling inwards, sparking gears malfunctioning. 

The pirates were approaching, and she wished she could cry. Out of all the things she envied humans for, it was the ability to cry. To sob and scream and fill the entire world with her tears, to cough and hiccup and cry out about the unfairness of it all. 

Reyna, in all technicality, was only a year and a half old. That was how long she was sentient, she had free will. Before that she might as well have been dead. She had so many more years in her, and there was a desperate, clawing need to experience those years, those thousands of sunrises and sunsets, the lazy hours and minutes full of frenzied battle.

She wanted it all.

The group entered the car- emptied now, for easier travels back- and the leader (Sterling, her beautiful first mate, Sterling, who she named, reasonable, perfect Sterling) stopped in her place, mask facing Reyna, as if in disbelief.

“Oh no.” Sterling murmured faintly. Reyna would agree if her vocal mechanisms hadn’t already shut down to preserve power.

Zircon (strong, brave, powerful, protective, amazing) bumped into Sterling, and with a confused sound, looked over her shoulder, and saw Reyna, saw her pitiful, dying form. A wordless cry echoed off of the metal walls, and suddenly Reyna was in a strong embrace.

A chorus of amazingly creative swears followed as the rest of the pirates, both in her own crew and in the young pirate’s, followed. Reyna’s own crew crowded around her, hiding her from the others.

“Can you speak, Captain?” Malachite (wonderful, wise, observant, quiet, pretty) eventually asked.

With a stuttering shake and a quiet, chirruping sound, she indicated that no, she could not speak, she was dying. 

Maybe not in those words, but the message got across.

“Okay, okay okay okay.” Someone was saying, trying not to panic- maybe Meteorite?- we can heal her, we can do this. 

“How?!” Someone whisper-yelled, a sharp motion drawing Reyna’s fuzzy gaze. 

Her optics were going to shut down next. Then her hearing, her movement, her-

Reyna fell into sleep, internally floating, a child in a womb, a baby, a little fawn with no legs to stumble with. She was nothing, everything, mind trying to process the never ending darkness of her emergency protocols. She was dying- was going to die.

She had never thought about death, never thought it applied to her in the sense of experiencing it. Did she even have a soul? Was she worthy of some salvation or damnation? Some quiet, peaceful end? Endless nothingness, like now? A beautiful facade of her perfect life? 

Do machines get to go to the afterlife if they can feel, can love, can hate, can reason, just as much as any other sentient creature? Did being made of metal make her any different, any more or less deserving?

She floated, existentially paralyzed by the broad endlessness of death. 

When she woke up, it was strange. It was little clicking sounds, soft whirring, clunky gears beginning to work. It was her internal processing telling her that her joints were working, hearing, eyes-

Goodness, it was bright.

Reyna woke up lying flat on a bed, bright light shining right into her optics. Blinking her vacant, black ‘eyes’, she blocked out the light and sat up, before opening them again, and wanting to gasp.

She was... well, not naked, but it was strange, to not be clothed in layers upon layers of pirated finery, to not have armor and mystery to protect her and her clockwork body. She looked down, seeing gloveless hands, ones that worked perfectly, every metal knuckle in place, clicking slightly. She saw her legs- one silver and slightly longer, from a musketeer clockwork who was dead before she found him- and the other her original, glinting in bronze and gold.

By the rocking, she was in a ship. Looking around, she realized- it was her ship, the Pyrite Swan, in her own bed. Not that she used it, seeing as clockworks didn’t need to sleep. Apparently, not until now.

“You’re awake!” The excited, in unison voices of Rhodium and Rhenium filled her ears, and she looked towards the doorway, seeing the two standing guard. “We’ve got to tell the others!” 

“Wait!” Reyna’s voice was rough, scratchy and screechy, painful. “Wait.”

The twins stopped, standing seriously and tilting their heads.

“What about- the humans- they-?”

“Oh!” Rhenium gasped. “Oh! So- okay, so after they figured it out- not until we were boarding the ship, but they did find out- Rat Beard almost hurt you, but Zircon almost killed him, and Bonnie Anne of all people defended us! She said to trust us, and the young pirate agreed, said you took that hit for them of all people!”

Rhodium nodded. “And then- oh dear- Emmet got a shot off I’m afraid, almost killed Sterling! She was so angry, told us all to calm down in that Mom Voice she has! It was so cool, they all shut up and let us explain! We set sail and told them our story- well, Sterling told most of it, we all chipped in with our own individual backstories- but goodness, you should have SEEN their faces. I didn’t know whether to laugh or hide!”

The two continued to ramble, back and forth, until finally someone was drawn to the commotion. 

“Zircon- help.” Reyna said simply, and the other clockwork nodded, pulling the twins out by their collars like misbehaving kittens, and then coming back. 

“Captain.” She started, voice stuttering, fearful. “You almost...”

“I didn’t, though.”

“Osmium and Meteorite finally worked together on something, figuring out how to heal you. It was... not pretty.” Zircon said, sitting gently on Reyna’s bedside.

“Maybe they’ll finally get over the romantic tension then.” Reyna muttered, and Zircon laughed.

“Yeah, finally.” 

Reyna sat up again, leaning heavily against Zircon as her systems got used to movement. “Help me up?” She finally said.

“Always, Captain.” Zircon said quietly.

Using her crew mate as a crutch, Reyna limped across her quarters. “I’m going to get dressed. Still doesn’t feel quite right without clothes, anymore.”

“I can help.” Zircon offered. Reyna’s grip on Zircon’s hand strengthened for a moment, a squeeze, a thank you. Heads knocking lightly, a clockwork kiss on the cheek.

Simple black trousers, a white shirt with a ruffled collar, and a captain’s hat, black with a broad golden feather. 

Reyna leaned heavily on Zircon, half starved for the touch, half actually needing it. They made their way across the room, and Zircon opened the doors again to sunlight of a new day. 

“Hey, Captain Ferro.” 

Reyna’s head whipped to the side, a blank slate of white and bronze and gold, maskless, and watched the young pirate captain approach.

“Captain.” They said. “You up to planning the next great adventure?”

Their voice was weak, hoarse. They had bloodshot eyes, a tear stained face. They had shaking hands, but offered Reyna’s sword to her nonetheless, standing tall, like a proper captain.

Reyna stood tall as well, arms off of Zircon, stepping forward. “Of course, Captain.” She said, almost playfully, head tilting as she reached forward- slow, cautiously- and grabbed the hilt of her sword almost reverently. It had dulled from battle, still covered in oil stains. 

She looked back at the young pirate, at their companions and friends behind them, watching. Finally, she spoke again.

“Just give me a few days to rest up, and our crew will be ready to take over the entire Spiral, before you know it!”

At her words, the crew, united, co-captained, broke into a wordless cheer, and Reyna fell back a bit, leaning on Zircon, letting the other girl half carry her back to bed.

Maybe pirates weren’t as savage, as uncivilized as she was programmed to think. Every one of them were thinking, living beings, with feelings, wants, needs. Just like clockworks, like those individual cogs that made up the once existent Armada. 

Pirate, Armada, Clockwork, Compassionate- 

Why not just be every single one? Take every label for herself? 

It’s what pirates do, after all.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi babes! Chapter 4 for you! It’s a biggie!

Eternally grateful to the tripod, without @dirtystyles -and @bleedinglove4h I would fall on my face- maybe into someone’s cleavage if I timed it right!!

Ski Da Yo- Chapter 4

It's silly really, the entire scenario that she's found herself in. Ada could laugh, nobody would hear it over the music. It's loud, and people are taking turns at the stage. Though She could go join the group, she should, rather than lurking in the corner like a weirdo, fixated on a previous performance. She's not laughing, even at herself. She'd kinda drooling, way more embarrassing.

But she just had to watch him.

He was in his element, relaxed, on, charming, lit up like a Christmas tree. Merry, bright.

She'd never seen him like this, in the flesh. Glimpses, in the interviews she watched and called research. She'd seen the fuss there, agreed to the picture partly on the strength of it.

She could see it, what the fuss was about. And it was the first real glimpse she'd had, besides those moments she felt she had to steal from him to get on film. She was beginning to think there was a limited supply of Styles' magic. Perhaps, that was why she was only able to get a precious few minutes a day.

Watching him now, that did not seem to be the case. Harry was incandescent and she felt blinded by the light. She could chalk that up to all of her rockstar fantasizes brought to life, but it didn't explain everyone else's rapt attention on him, their enthrallment. Maybe they all had a grunge fetish too?

When she walked in and she clocked him, even with the stupid glasses that obscured his face, festive she supposed, he looked different.

On set he looked, perfect was the word that came to mind, but not in the way people usually meant. Polished and made up and proper in his prince clothes.  Perfect, fake. And anxious, like the film was a bit of an albatross around his neck. Or maybe the pressure.  And he looked like it was heavy, all the trappings trapping him. Ada worried over it. Like, the movie made him regress. Maybe it felt too familiar. He said that a lot when they talked about scenes, when he was frustrated with himself.

"I know just how he feels."

Because he had been there. Is that why he had such a hard time getting the shot? Because it made him freak out a little, feel like he'd not called his own shots for years? But he'd made these choices. Had agency. Maybe she could help him see it as therapeutic. Because it was a way to safely rebel - a redo, no risk.

She'd talk to him about it. They needed to have that drink. She could order him one now.

Ada shook her head. Not tonight. She didn't want to kill his vibe tonight. It was too lovely to watch, and to live she guessed. No shop talk.

He looked light as a cloud, and as soft edged too.  Nothing perfect or fake about him. His skin was a little slick under the stage lights, the ridges near his nose were shiny especially. He had glitter on his cheeks, but not like highlighter, like the glasses he wore were cheap, and shedding tiny pieces of shine.

But he did shine.

And he had sounded good.

Not everybody could sing Nirvana, in a chest voice no less.

She was weaned on that. And really into indie rock, especially grunge, while her dad was fostering 90's slick hip hop. It was a silly means of rebellion, but she took her opportunities to disappoint Garner seriously.

She remembered her dad had called the cover of in utero obscene, which made her laugh as he had just put out a video full of nearly naked females in bikinis, but anatomical drawings were obscene. Okay.

She had snuck a new copy in after he threw the first one away and poured over the lyrics in her baggy jeans and crop top with a flannel. Had a giant crush on Kurt, May he Rest In Peace, and when she met Dave Grohl it may have been the only time she was really starstruck.

Well, she felt like she had been hit about the head by a celestial being currently. Harry had it, that was for sure. How had she missed it? The bushel basket he'd been hiding his light under must have been thick. There was something obscuring her view or his personality definitely. Not tonight. Star power was all over him tonight; that was the boy she had signed up to direct. Right there, from those red carpet clips she'd watched. Those sold her and then she had watched concert footage, shaking camera and all. Those were another level. This silly karaoke gig almost matched the wattage when he was bedecked and bantering on stage. He looked dashing, and like he could carry a movie on his thick shoulder pads all with a joke on his vibrant lips. That man was in this building, singing one of her all time favorite songs. It had an effect.

Wow, the rasp in his voice. God, she was still reeling and hiding out in the back like her crush was nearby.

Her eyes widened.

That's what was going on! She was doing what she had done with Danny Diaz in 10th grade. She wasn't teenage dream obsessed about him, really. But, she'd paid him a lot of attentions, clandestinely. He'd been so cool, and was really into raving. Which, in hindsight, made his post high school life a little clearer. But he liked music that had nothing to do with her dad and he was cute, had long bangs and a shaved head and he could dance! She loved to dance.

She needed to go, before this bloomed like a cherry blossom and she fell off in a great big clump to wait for shoe marks. Like 10th grade, only less poetic.

The pathway to the door was clear. Her heels on the floor made a click click click, though nobody should be able to hear it. She turned back to make sure nobody was following her, was watching, and her heel caught, right in a crack in the concrete floor.

"Shit!" Her ankle twisted and her heard a crunch, that was not good, but her trajectory to the ground wasn't either. Her hands went out to catch her.

He smelled good, like leather a bit, smoky, with a sweet tinge. And he caught her and hoisted her up like she was feather light. She never felt like that, because she was the tallest of her friends, not even tall, just taller, and she had never been small. She had that insta baddie body before it was popular. Grown up in the big titty, little hippy 90's. She always felt huge.

But not right now. He had her, was righting her before her weight came down and she properly broke something. This felt like that time she'd sprained her ankle jumping fences to go skating with the boys. Stupid heels.

Back to the rom com moment she found herself in. He's caught her under the arms. His hands span her whole armpit and his fingers curled into her scapula. Ada spared a thought for how sweaty her underarms might be. Yuck! But she should be ok, she'd gotten properly ready, lots of antiperspirant. She knew that, took a deep breath and then realized she'd missed something. He's staring at her expectantly. The rockstar with the totally revealed charm. Harry.

"What?" It came out with no finesse, like a burp.

"You ok?" Harry was kinda grinning and loose, left eye more hooded than his right, and his breath, definitely 80 proof. She heard the shift and he's no longer got her in a dip fit for a tango . She felt like she'd been whirled and thrilled.

"Um, I think I'm ok." She realized they were still locked in an embrace when she tried to check her foot. Ada looked down at the place his hands had migrated to, on her hips. She didn't really need to look, she could feel all ten fingertips, like little bruise marks formed from hope not pressure. It saved her from looking at her own hands where they were full of the muscular forearms she knew to be covered in tattoos beneath the green button-up he had on. It was a a stall.

But Harry released her the minute he saw her eyeing his familiar hands. She had him well trained apparently. Massive walls between them. They were massively out of place at the moment, regrettable. She wasn't balanced on her feet yet either. Ada nearly fell before he steadied her with a rebound hand at her hip. She caught it to stand on one foot, for safety.

Her ankle circled around ok. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was entirely manageable. That was good. She'd probably need to stay off of it, no treadmill tomorrow, and she'd need to elevate it. Ice too, she could ask the bartender for some.  She was plotting how to locate an ace type bandage, and who would be best to ask for that. They may have some in makeup - they'd used them to bind breasts on Wildflower, but she couldn't think why they'd have them for this movie. Harry had perky nipples, but they didn't need to be bound. Stop thinking about Harry's nipples. The lowlight would thankfully mask her blush. Wait, Maybe she could ask his friend, Masa, he owned a gym.

Harry. She could ask him too. And that would be really easy because he was still right there. Holding her hand.

They had laced their fingers at her hip. Ada looked at Harry, he had a huge lazy smile on his face. Pleased as punch. She was punch drunk, though she wouldn't say it. He looked so young and toothy. Though the gathering of sweat at his hairline, little droplets above his upper lip, made him real. Imperfect.

She shook herself and their hands unlatched. "I need ice I think?" Of course she needed ice. What was she talking about? Who even was she? Next she's start babbling, and tuck her hair behind her ear and duck her chin.

"Yeah, and a way to put it up." His head swiveled around and he nodded. "C'mon." He gently took her arm and looped it around his shoulder. He was just tall enough.

The table was closer than she would have liked, a walk under his arms was worth remembering, but it was good for her foot. Harry sat her in a booth and put both hands out in a straight stay there motion then grabbed a chair and propped up her ankle gently. The wrong one, but she went with it.

"Be right back." He tripped a little as he looped off to the bar.  Ah, that looked normal. The trip to the bar was only the chorus of the song too. He didn't wait long for the bartender. The whole place seemed to be filled with their group, pleasantly vibrant, but not busy. . It was a quick exchange, with a little sign language thrown in. He was big on hand talking on a normal day. Gesticulating when he described most things. He was very full body engaged and engaging before scenes, before he floated away on her.

Huh, she just thought about that, Henry wasn't gesticulative. A little more in the Akio scenes.

She hadn't noticed that Harry had layered physical control into his performance. She found herself nodding. That was good.  Made total sense for a royal.

He was walking back to her now with a thin white towel and he was crunching ice in it.  Oh shit - she hadn't switched feet, she'd been watching him.

"Cold!" She flinched, "a little warning Styles!"

"Sorry," he chuckled. "I figured me walking from the bar with a towel after I went over to get ice was warning enough." He curled his tongue a little at her and the ice gave her goosebumps.

Wow, maybe he needed liquid courage on set sometimes. All his nerves were gone.

"Usually someone tells you they are about to put ice on you, even nurses, unless they are trying to be little shits!" She arched one of her brows st him. They were her favorite feature and she used them to her advantage.

"You got me, just wanted to see you squirm, since you get to see me uncomfortable a lot." His slow cadence sometimes bugged her on set. It was another thing she could find irritating, during the literal 11th hour. Ada talked fast. She talked a mile a minute on set because they had shit to do and her brain was usually ten paces ahead of her mouth.

But it was kinda nice, the way he took his time.

"You sounded really good! When you were singing." Oh God he blushed. It was his job to sing, did he know that? "You moonlight in a Nirvana cover band often?" She flexed her foot where his hand was still moving ice around to find the sore ligaments, on the wrong foot. She followed the fire and ice.

He squawked a laugh. "No, just the one time, and only because Kunichi is so persistent. I think he could sell bad fish to a Tokyo chef!" He raised his eyebrows and Ada caught her hand just before she covered her laugh.

"So, it's not the song you've always wanted to sing? That wasn't you living out your teenage rock dream?" He shook his head, just hers then.

"Oh, it's a great song, I love rock." He moved his head like, obviously. His body of work spoke to that. "But I like a little more melody when I'm convinced to do karaoke," he made a drinking motion and she was laughing again. "I like disco divas and duets. And if there is absolutely nobody around to tell on me or god forbid, record, Britney Spears is a blast to perform." He'd placed his hand to block his lips from curious eyes and leaned in to tell her this secret. His lips were plump, they like to reach out and touch her faith.

She was thirsty.

Oh shit, did she just say that out loud? How much had she already had, while skulking in the shadows?

"Sure, what do you fancy?" Quicksilver grin, poisonous and enigmatic.

"Um," what had she already had? "A dirty martini!"

"How dirty?" He flashed his eyebrows.

"Very, three extra olives." She gave him her single brow, the one that she used to dare him when that was what he needed on set.

"Three olives!" He made a shocked face. "Well, I never." And he gave her the goofiest grin and went to grab her drink. He looked comfortable. Like a favorite hoodie she wanted to wear. She only got to really watch him one way. He was back quickly.

He sat by her when he put down her cloudy drink. She'd switched legs while he was away and thought she'd got away with it, but caught his eye as he was studying her legs and he smirked at her.

That was a damn good face. "You need to do that for the scene Monday, the one at the club." Ada segued seamlessly into shop talk. She was actually really excited about that one. It was set at a place she had frequented in her time here; she had really happy memories. She was feeling really excited too, this felt like an actual fresh start, she should have taken Harry up on his offer of a drink ages ago. He was a joy loose. This was the rapport they needed, him loose and smirky, handsome with a side of solicitous and cocky sauce. This was the Harry Styles she'd been waiting for!

🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵

Harry felt like he should get an Oscar for this performance. For his steady hands, that he was currently sitting on, and the confident smirk. It wasn't all an act, but the amount of times he'd had to turn this on like a lightbulb in an interview was invaluable right now. It was mostly fake those times, maybe even faker now. He had been relaxed and joyous, and then he had been so relieved to see her smile at him, he just went with it. But the minute he walked away from her, the first time, for the ice, the nerves kicked in. But he faked it, like a seasoned porn star, because she was looking at him, and touching him, and holy shit! Ada Scott was hanging with him. He would keep the action and make the moans believable.

Wow! Was this the way women felt all the time? When they had to put on some performance for the man they were interested in, or for the men they weren't, but couldn't offend?

It felt easier to relax tonight. The day had set him up for success. Things had ended so well on set, and he'd been in the best mood, and had gotten brave. He'd gone to her trailer. To invite her again.  Harry was excited about the evening at the bar and seeing music, though he wasn't sure what it would be like, because it wasn't a gig, nor karaoke, some hybrid he had been told. He liked novel nights out.

But everybody was coming. His whole Japanese network, including Jeff and Masa and his girl!

Everybody but Ada. So he'd put on his man panties and went going to ask her.  She needed to be there, and even though she'd turned down all of his invitations and returned the replacement shoes, he was going to ask her again.  For the whole cast. They had months left and needed to bond.

He needed to bond with her. It felt possible after their day on set, her brow wasn't creased and she didn't speed walk away. She slowed down enough for him to keep up. They'd had a conversation, not about a scene. He'd kept up and not drifted away on her voice. She walked and talked fast. He liked it.

Masa loved to laugh at him, and was doing just that while he psyched himself up to go talk to her. "Just go ask the lady." He'd arrived to take him back to the hotel to Harry stalling. Masa was giving him a look.

His grin was presumptuous. Harry didn't like it. It felt like he knew. Yuki knee, Masa might. Harry did, know, but he didn't think he was so obvious. Did she know?

"You need a tutu?" Masa heckled.

"What?"

"Your mind is like a dancer on drugs," he made a flitting motion with his hands. "you might need a tutu for making the decision. "

"Oh fuck off, man!"

"Just go ask her. It's a cast party, I haven't even met her and she's supposed to be the leader. She needs to come. A leader should." Masa's brow shrunk.

"She is the leader, she's the boss!" He was full of defenses for her. "If you were allowed on set you'd see."

"Oh, I'm not allowed." Harry had neglected to outright tell him that, just let him be distracted, that would run out when they had to go on location. Whoops.

"You'd make fun of me, I've been totally fucking up. So you aren't allowed. At all."

"Isn't the movie about a royal fucking up?" Masa said after catching his wheezing breath. He sounded like a dragon with hay fever.

Hmmm, Harry'd have to have a think on that. That was a plot point he should consider when he was flagellating himself. Maybe he could use it, all his self frustration. He shook himself and jumped up and down like he was going on stage, when he turned around to tell Masa he was going, he was laughing at him, again.

"What now?"

"Are you going to punch her?" He gulped the air. "You do that before you box."

"I just need to hype myself up." Harry shook his head out.

"She must be really pretty."

"Shut up." She was really pretty, but it had been an asset today, made the scene work and Harry had decided he needed exposure therapy. So he needed to be around her, more. He was gonna go talk to her, get used to her face.

He strode to her trailer and stopped cold outside before he could knock. For once, it was not over nerves, but his jaw which had dropped to the floor. That sound as coming from her trailer.

She was singing. Well!  To Mary J. Blige's Real Love. And he wanted to sit on the little steps up to her door and listen.

So she could have gone into the music business, had everything going for her there. Connected daddy, pretty face, hot body, and pipes. Wow, she could belt! He had goosebumps. Her voice was rich and evocative. Deeper that he expected.

And he could not talk to her.  Not now. Now she was even more impressive.

So he did what any brave young lad would do.

He asked his manager to do it.

Jeff smirked, but sent the text.  And like the magic 8 ball he could be, he made the face he did when the outlook wasn't good.

So Harry had resigned himself to Ada not coming to the bar.  He was disappointed, but also relieved. Those two feelings must be dating as often as he felt them together when it came to Ada. If she didn't come, he could relax and have fun, let loose, but not bond with her, or have another chance to impress her. Or throw up on her. There would be alcohol involved again. He needed to gain back the ground he'd lost when he spewed at her feet.

A second chance at a first impression.

But Jeff seemed to be right, as he often was. Ada was softer with him after the last cut because he had done a good job. He'd work that angle to bond.

He resigned himself to having another kick ass day on Monday for him and Ada, and having a great time tonight for himself, free of expectations. He was feeling buoyant, Kunichi had noticed right away, pounced and got him on stage. First on the drums, which he played like a 7th grader after a few lessons, and then on the microphone.

God, it was fun. So fun. And he felt the perfect amount of tipsy, like tomorrow he'd need two paracetemol and extra water, a good sweat and nothing else.

He felt extra intoxicated when he spotted Ada. In tight jeans and a slimmer t-shirt than normal, and high heels. He tried not to stare at her ass on a sneaker day, he was doomed with the thrust the 3 inches gave her curves. She looked amazing, but she looked like she was leaving. And he'd just realized she was there!

The social lubricant in his blood didn't give him a chance to think better of it. He was walking to Ada. He got there just in time. Her heel stuck in a crease in the floor, and he caught her. It was every rom com moment he'd ever sat on his mum's couch moon eyed over in one.

He got to help her. And he was able to talk to her like a normal human, and get her a drink. All in the span of 20 minutes!

She seemed relaxed, her shoulders pressed against her tee nicely, but were down, easy. And she smiled at him, a lot.

He was trying his best not to think, he'd spin out. When he went to get her ice towel and then the martini, god, she kind of flirted, right? People flirted with him all the time, or went mute. She didn't do either until tonight. And he was buzzing, more off the flirting at this point than the alcohol.

The little insecure boy inside, the one who was really loud in new situations or around new people, especially people he admired, was chiming in about the stage. The stage cast a spell on people, and he worried about people who knew him from it or expressed attraction to that aspect of him.

It's why he'd always held back with Helene, regrettably.

He didn't want to make that mistake again, he'd made wrong assumptions that cost him Helene's affections. He didn't want to do that here, wanted to do the opposite. Part of him wanted to dive in, head first, but he wasn't sure. Rejection hurt no matter who you were, and though he'd had his share, Harry's skin was still cling wrap thin. He wanted her to like him too.  He wanted this to be real. Which meant he had to be honest, and open. But he was rushing it, like he did when he was crushing.

He was going to let this night be what he hoped it would be, a beginning. And he was that guy, the one on stage, with the smirk, and the wit. He was also less commanding, and lost his cool at times, but she'd seen that guy. He just needed to show her more of his best side, tonight, and on set.

He caught Kunichi motioning to him. Ah, he'd almost forgotten his promise.

He leaned back, let his arm brush her shoulder while he relaxed. He'd turn on the charm for just a minute, he could manage that, he wanted something he'd been a little consumed with for the better half of this night. And he wanted it from Ada.

He flexed the dimple and titled his head to the side. "This smile?" He pointed his finger at his lips.

"That's a good one, but no. The cockier one!" Oooh, he really did love that eyebrow. Gave him tingles.

"I will do my absolute best," he smirked and her lashes fluttered. "If you'll come up and sing with me."

[zel-zo]

My JSE Ego headcanons

-WARNING: LONG POST-

(FYI, these are just my headcanons, and no one has to agree with them!! Also, Feel free to let me know about Headcanons you have! I’d be super siked to hear them!)

Anti- 

-super petty and kinda childish. -Emo son. -acts like he doesn’t care. -actually dose. -Has a knife collection -Doesn’t like Hendric because he’s bossy -Doesn’t like everyone else because  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ -Uses his glitch powers to teleport all the time -Acts kinda like a cat. -Tall place that no person should be able to reach? -He’s sitting there. -Personal space? -He’s in it. -Making food? -It’s his now. -Gets out his knife and makes people uneasy when he wants attention  -”GET OUT OF MY ROOM MOM! I’M PLAYING MINECRAFT!!”

Chase-

-Dad #1 -Likes tea better than coffee, but is addicted to coffee anyways. -Drinks Espresso for his Depresso -Fucking great with kids -Would be an amazing baby siter -Fuck stacy -Can’t really stand up for himself. kiiiiinda a wimp. -Occasionally tries to use “hip” words, but it never works out. -Dad puns????? Absolutely. -Spends all of his time mothering over his friends so he doesn’t have to care for himself. -Awesome cook. -Cooks with pink frilly apron bc his daughter liked it. -Refuses to be sad. -is always sad. -Someone please give him a hug. 

Hendric-

-Dad friend #2 -so much Insomnia -Takes care of everyone because everyone’s too dumb to take care of themselves -Act’s grumpy and irritated 80% of the time -Secretly genuinely loves the other egos. -Not a legal doctor??? -definitely owns “Doctoring: for dummies” -Tired 24/7 -And when I mean tired -I mean TIRED. -like, his bed is dusty because he always sleeps at his desk. -Chase usually comes by and puts a blanket on him. -Almost always busy -What is.... the ‘Fun’??? -Needs a break -When he does get time off, he doesn’t even know what to do with it -usually ends up watching movies with robbie on those days. -Stress dad™

:(MORE BELOW THE CUT!):

Robbie-

-Smol boi -Not really good at talking -REALLY CLUMSY -Always looks tired -Cries when he accidentally loses his arms/legs/eyes -Not because it hurts -but because he doesn’t want to give hendric more work -No one can tell tho -Such a fluffy child -Loves big sweaters and hot chocolate -REALLY SLOW AT EVERYTHING. -If he tries really hard, he can say maybe 3 words within 5 minutes, tops. -Talking hurts, so he just moans for attention -Is really prone to over stimulation -Hendrik always has noise cancelling headphones on hand when they leave the house -Seems closer to hendric than anyone for some reason??? -Love’s affection, especially physical. -Cuddles are always welcome -has like, 1000 stuffed animals -Like’s colorful/shiny things

Jackie-boy-man-

-The hero we don’t need or want -but we have him anyways -No real powers, but he tries his best. -Punches crime! -Think’s he’s a good super hero -Really isn’t??? -but no one’s gonna tell him that. -just let him be happy. -Super soft. Like, SUPER soft. -If you criticize him at all, he might actually start crying. -Same goes if you compliment him -Act’s like he has a big ego but not really??? -Like, he would say “IT IS I! THE AMAZING FANTASTIC EXTRAVAGANT- (ect.)”, but the moment you say “Hey, you’re pretty cool.” he will be weeping and hugging you. -Likes to make other people feel better -PMA is his real super power! -He never lets people be down on themselves! -”Hey! Things might be bleak, but You’re smart! You’re important! You deserve to be happy! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!” -ok, so maybe he IS the hero we all need.

Marvin the magician-

-The mysterious one -Everyone thought he was just a joke -Then he disappeared -When he came back, he had a cat mask, and actual magic -I totally agree with the hair in a man bun thing -Doesn’t talk much, but not for the same reason as robbie. -Acts like a cat (in different ways than Anti) -Like’s to keep to himself -Isn’t easily amused -Thinks he’s better than everyone -Probably is -he is almost always reading (usually the books are in different languages) -Doesn’t show much emotion, and the most you can get him to say is “yes”, “no”, or “This is what I had to leave my room for?” -Owns at least 2 cats. Probably 3. -all of them were strays that just kinda started following him around. -if you take him out into an ally, he will be SURROUNDED by cats in 10 seconds flat. -Acts unfeeling, but if you can get him to smile, it will make the sun look dark by comparison -Purrs when people pet his hair (Witch is a fact he keeps to himself) -Hisses when he’s pushed past his limit. -Actually likes physical contact, as long as he’s initiating it. -With an S.O., he’s super protective, and a bit less unfeeling -Not such a bad guy after all

Jamison-

-OK BUT LOOK AT THIS DAPPER BOI -he dosn’t have to wear boe ties and vests -But he dose anyways -He is ALWAYS ready to be fancy! -He’s definitely mute. -Since not everyone can use ASL, he carries around a small blackboard with chalk -He COULD use a whiteboard, but he likes the chalk better. -This way, everyone can hear when he’s trying to write something -Back in the day, he used to be an announcer, but that all ended when he lost his voice. -No one knows how that happened, but the dapper boi doesn’t seem too keen on sharing that info. -Super sweet -#1 Gentleman.  -Carries around a handkerchief for when people are sad or sick -Always holds doors for people -Pulls out people’s chairs at meals -manners are turned up to an 11 with this guy -Super old fashioned -Kinda shy. -Doesn’t like to draw attention to himself, despite how he dresses -Super modest -he’s definitely a  Pacifist  -doesn’t like physical contact: it makes him nervous -He has PTSD, but no one really knows what’s up with that. -also, he’s a FANTASTIC DANCER -he has an old-timy record player in his room -and BOI can he dance! -but in short: -Strong hearted gentleman with a shy side

(Aaaaaand that’s it! Hope you liked those, and remember to let me know about your headcanons too! If you like these and wanna hear about some of my headcannons for OTHER egos, then just tell me so! Thanks for reading this far and have a rad day Dude/Dudet/Otherly-dudeage!)

[heirs-of-prythian]

Pretty Colourful!

Hi, guys! I am back with a one-shot! No this has nothing to do with Wanted: Lila, since my brain kinda refuses to let write it down, even if I know how it is going to end. But whatever, I now have for you a fluffy fic about Rhys and Art having some fun with paints together (and Feyre will show up at the end again)!

Word count: 3k

____________

It's midday on a wonderful summer day and three year old Artemas has woken up from his nap not long ago. After being fed some mashed potatoes, baby-carrots, peas and butter cookies for lunch, Art was cleaned up and brought into his room to play by his father.

For a toddler, Art has a really big room. The floor is mostly covered in midnight blue fluffy and soft carpets. One wall is painted completely dark blue and golden and white stars are dotted around in constellations. As well as the phases of the moon, in a circle directly above the bed, which is Art's favorite thing on that wall. Even the falling stars from Starfall are seen in their bright blue glowing glory in the right corner beside the bed. The other wall opposite is painted with mountains in different shades of blue, and the other two do look like forests in dark green, brown and black. The walls were, of course, painted by Feyre herself, when she was pregnant with Art.

The room has two floor-to-ceiling windows, which both lead out to the same big balcony. The glass doors are sealed shut with magic since Art has tried several times to jump down from the balcony. Both Feyre and Rhys don't want their little baby son doing that and getting hurt, not to killed since they highly doubt that a jump like that could kill him, with their baby having strong magic like that, but they aren't taking any chances. Now the blue curtains are open and the room is flooded with warm daylight.

The room has also three doors. The first one is next to the window on the right and leads into the hallway. The former black wooden door is now adorned with various colors in different forms. Some look like moons, stars, suns, shooting stars, flowers, even a hand print here and there, and some basic forms. This door isn't the only door that looks like this in Art's room. The other two painted doors are opposite the first door, but in the far two corners of the room. One leads into the rooms own bathroom and the other into the closet/storage room for Art's toys/Art's "secret" playroom.

Beside the doors, most of the furniture also have been painted on. The room has now a tiny bed, a nightstand, a big armchair, shelves upon shelves filled with various stuffed animals (who are all named, and sorted both alphabetically and from most favorite to least), a tiny desk with bookshelves around it and a massive bookshelf between the windows with a fast growing book collection of storybooks of all shapes and sizes.

Even the walls aren't save from the paint, one corner between window and door is known as Art's little atelier. The whole corner has been used as a canvas from floor to ceiling. A small shelf stores canvases, palettes, various containers of paint, brushes, sponges, colorful pencils, crayons, chalks, pastels, papers, and other art utensils. Art likes to imitate Feyre as much as possible, when it comes to painting and art in general.

Now father and son are sitting in the middle of the room at a colourfully painted tiny table. Which Art has demand like a spoilt little prince to have been brought from his playroom by his father. Art has meanwhile plopped himself onto the carpet and looked over his paints in his corner. When Rhys came back with the table and set it in front of his son, said son has looked up to him, pointed one finger at the corner and simply said "Paints." At which Rhys just had risen an eyebrow and didn't move. Art's brows creased at that, not used not being obeyed, but than his face cleared.

"Thank you, daddy. Can you please get some paints?" Art has said slowly and carefully to pronounce every word correctly. "You're welcome, little moon. Now was that so hard, Artemas?" Rhys smiled at the head shaking Art, and started to move to the "Ala" (Art's little atelier). "And of course, what colours do you want?" "Blue," it came from Art before Rhys even finished the question, "red, yellow, green, white and black."

After Rhys has grabbed the paints and settled beside his son, summing papers and paintbrushes, while opening the containers and scooping the colours on a palette.

Feyre had made sure that the paints are save for Art to eat, since even the Heir of Night is a normal baby and now toddler and puts almost anything in his mouth. So now Art can go wild with it.

Meanwhile Art looks excited at the colours, a big smile attached to his face. Grinning, Rhys ruffles Art's short black hair, looking forward as to what Art will paint.

"Thanks, daddy!" Art grins up to his father, a brush already in hand.

"For you, everything, little moon." Rhys says sincerely and moves his head down until their noses meet. Art's impossibly big grin widens even more. For a few seconds, neither of the two moves, but then Art goes in for the kill, Rhys is only a millisecond to slow.

"First!" Art cheers loudly, after he kissed his father's nose. Both start grinning at each other again and than dissolve into laughter.

Cauldron, he loves his son so much.

After the laughter died down, Art faced his paints and paper and started dipping the paintbrush into blue paint. Now concentrating on painting, Art ignores his father, who has slung an arm around him, and the world around him. He barely registers the kiss on his head by his father. Rhys smiles into his son's hair, as Art barely reacts to him.

Mother, when he is like this, he is so much like Feyre. It's so adorable.

But when Art is like this, there's isn't much to do, since Art will probably not move from his spot for some time. Being content with painting in peace, Art is completely distracted and has no desire to do anything else right now. It's like he is in his own world right now.

So Rhys is just happy with watching Art paint, listening to Art's mumbles, which most of the time make absolutely no sense at all, and looking out of the window at the Sidra. Since interaction with his son when he is in this state is practically nonexistent, Rhys doesn't even try. He also doesn't react when his son paints over the ends of the paper and onto the table. Art does it constantly and the table is full of paint because of that.

It's something Feyre does often as well, painting on something that isn't a canvas or papers, usually walls or furniture. And that shows to Rhys at least that his little moon is more like is mother than him, despite looking like him. And Rhys loves it.

It's been almost half an hour when Art gets bored painting with brushes. So Art puts the still covered in red paint brush down. Then without hesitation, Art puts his whole tiny hand into the palette, still mumbling to himself. Cold paint squishes between his fingers. He giggles at the feeling.

Art loves this feeling. Just the paint simply on his skin.

He didn't really paid attention into what colours he put his hand, so now blue and red are covering his hand, mixing slightly into purple. But Art doesn't care, so he just continues painting, starting a new story in his head, at least to him. To everyone else, Art's mumbling while he paints is mostly incoherent and nonsensical words mixed with words and sentences he knows. And for a three year old, Artemas knows a lot of words, courtesy mostly to his older cousins Cadan and Hemera. Who try to get him as up to speed with them as possible.

Rhys didn't even noticed that his son has gone from brush painting to finger painting. His hand is still on his mumbling son's back, who made no indication himself that something has changed. Rhys is absently drawing circles with his thumb on the tiny back and just stares almost vacantly out of the window, without really seeing anything, thinking on an slight issue with the Lords of Hewn City. Which he will take care of tomorrow. But in his head he is going over the issue and the solution he and Feyre came up with. And then is thoughts lead him into thinking of his beloved mate Feyre.

The High Lord of the Night Court is as lost to the world as the Heir of Night is.

But Rhys was abruptly thrown off his thoughts when he feels something cold and slick gliding across his right cheek. And a giggle follows the disappearance of the feeling. His son's giggle. Casting his head down, Rhys looks at his giggling and at his face pointing son. The palm of the hand that points at him is covered completely in paint. Red and blue are mixed into purple, while yellow almost completely disappeared into green, and white and black merged into various shades of grey. Non of the colours are dried yet, so the palm is glinting wetly.

The other hand is clean and is clutching Rhys' shirt to keep the laughing toddler upright. Whose giggling transformed into a full blown laugh.

"I don't think that that's so funny, little moon." Rhys says grinning, loving hearing his son laugh like that, even if it is apparently on his expense.

"Daddy, .... real ... pretty... now!" Art gasps out between laughing, not even bothering with sentence structures or the correct pronunciations of the words, causing him to say "Leal" and "pletty".

"Oh am I now?" Rhys asks amused, violet eyes glittering like stars. Art just nods while still laughing, not noticing his father's finger dipping into blue paint.

"How about I make you pretty?" Rhys asks as he taps his son's nose, painting it blue.

Art gasps and stops laughing, blinking at his father, who now laughs at his son's stunned face.

"Little moon, ... real.... pretty .. now." Laughing, Rhys imitates his son, also pronouncing it incorrectly.

Art crosses his arms, smearing paint into his blue shirt, and pouts at his laughing father. But then he has an idea. Uncrossing his arms, turns to his father, who has calmed down and is facing the ceiling, eyes closed and grinning widely. Tugging at his father's shirt and a "Daddy", Art gets the wanted attention from his father. Rhys hums and brushes strands of hair away from his son's face.

"I make you pretty!" Art explains or better demands, points from him to Rhys, "and you make me pretty!" The finger points first to Rhys than to Art again and than to the paints on the table. Throughout the demand, Rhys eyebrow has risen, but than he sighs and smiles.

"Okay, little moon, let's paint each other's faces." He obeys amused, already knowing that his stubborn son will not take an "no" for an answer, well at least not if it isn't satisfiedly explained to Art. And it does sound like a lot of fun.

Rhys needs to duck down a little so the blue-nosed toddler can reach him comfortably. So father and son start painting the face of the other.

They paint until no patch of skin is clean and untouched, covering their face in shades of blue, red, purple, yellow, green, orange, white, gray and black. Rhys has drown a white full moon, a yellow crescent moon and a red waning moon on little moon's forehead. Art has only put stars on his father's entire face, in all colours, all shapes and sizes overlapping and mixing together, only a few stars are still recognisable as such.

Satisfied, both father and son lean back, hands at hips, admiring their work with a critical eye, but than smiling widely, mirroring each other. Violet eyes meet blue-grey eyes. And both start laughing again.

"You are very ... very pretty now, Daddy!" Art wrings out between his laughter, hands clutching his stomach, smearing more paint into his shirt. The "r" is again a "l", except for the "are".

Cauldron, his little moon is so cute and wonderful.

Rhys was about to give his son the compliment back, but than they hear from downstairs a voice, shouting.

"I'm home, boys!"

"Mommy!" Art has straighten and stopped laughing, but now excited to see his mother. Getting to his feet, he has completely forgetting about his paint covered hands and face. But Rhys catches his arm as he was about to run out, stopping him completely. Art turns his face and sees a mischievous smile on his father's face that immediately gets his interest. Art is always up for some mischief.

"How about we show Mommy our new masterpieces, little moon?" Rhys whispers softly, the smile still on his face.

Art grins and than giggles, nodding, he puts his arms up, silently demanding to be picked up. Rhys stands and swoops up his son in one fluid move, not caring for the paint that Art smears on his shirt. With a little magic, Rhys makes the paint in their faces instantly dry, so they couldn't accidentally destroy their masterpieces. Going down the stairs, they scan the foyer. No Feyre in sight.

"Mommy?" Art shouts. "In the kitchen, little moon!" Feyre shouts back. Turning left, Rhys almost tiptoes to the kitchens door, hoping his mate isn't facing them. And he is in luck, Feyre has her back to them, preparing a tea. Seemingly not noticing them.

Impatient as ever, Art makes a noise and says "Mommy look! We are pretty now!"

At her son's weird sentence, Feyre turns around, prepared to say that they are always pretty, but the words died down at the sight of her most beloved males: her mate, and her son. Stunned, Feyre gaps at them, taking in the paint covered faces. Blue is the dominant colour in both faces. Rhys' face seems to be covered in a similar shape over and over. Feyre can make the shapes out to be stars. Art's face seems to have a blue background with things painted over it. The most eye-catching are the three moons on his forehead.

And to be honest, Feyre can't decide who has more artistic talent, her three year old son or her well over 500 year old mate. But she leans slightly towards her son, and she is not biased with that opinion. Not even a little, and Rhys would agree with her.

This isn't what she expected to welcome her home, but she welcomes it nonetheless.

"Look, little moon, we are so pretty, we made your mother speechless!" Rhys says proudly. Art makes a proud noise of agreement, while nodding his head.

"Feyre Darling, tell as how pretty we are!" Rhys requests dramatically to his still speechless and gaping mate. "Tell us! Tell us, Mommy!" Art chimes in, excited. At this, Feyre snaps out of her stupor, and laughs.

"Both of you're beautiful!" Feyre smiles brightly and advances towards them. The second she is within arm reach of Rhys, an arm is slung around her waist, drawing her closer. Feyre brings her arms around her mates waist and her son's back. Art leans an arm around his mother's shoulder, the other is already on his father's.

Hugging each other, the small family stays like that and enjoying the closeness and the warmth.

Bending down a little, Rhys kisses Feyre. Both smile into the kiss. But they don't kiss for long with a impatient toddler in their arms. After breaking the kiss, Feyre tiptoes and kisses her son's cheek.

"What happened?" Feyre asks amused, looking closer at their faces.

"Your son,-" Rhys starts but Feyre interrupts him. "My son?"

"Yes, he is your son only when he paints, Darling. He is so much like you when he does." Feyre laughs at that.

Well, he isn't wrong.

"Anyways, little moon has decided that my face would be prettier with paint on it and followed his impulse," Rhys continues amused, smiling at Art, who smiled back innocently. "And I just copied him, making him prettier as well. And than this little artist here decided that we should paint each other's faces to make the other pretty. And that's all there is to it, Darling."

"Both of you are definitely pretty" Feyre agrees, smiling. "Are those stars, little moon?"

"Yes!" Art answers proudly. "All of it! Stars!"

"Is that a new masterpiece, little moon?" His mother inquiries, tracing a line of a half visible star on his father's face. "To bad we can't hang this one." Rhys laughs at that. "To bad, isn't it." He agrees. "But you could paint us later, Feyre Darling." Rhys suggests it because of a growing frown and sad eyes on Art's face.

"Can you, mommy?" Art is immediately onboard with the idea, excited to be painted by his talented mother.

In his eyes, Feyre is the best artist there is and he wants to be as good as her, no maybe even better than her!

"I can and definitely will!" Feyre promises, "As soon as I have time, this is going to be my next project! Because this needs to be immortalised"

"It does, doesn't it!" Rhys agrees, grinning. Art nods his head wildly in agreement, looking rather smug.

Than he hugs his parents closer and buries his face in-between them, making a happy purr. Feyre and Rhys laugh and smile at each other.

What did they do to deserve such a wonderful gift, like their son.

"I love you both!" Art mumbles, his head still buried between his parents. But they can hear the smile in his voice.

"We love you, too, Artemas." They say together, smiling down at their son.

And not even two weeks later, the High Lady of the Night Court has finished her newest favourite painting. It shows the High Lord of the Night Court and the Heir of Night, cheek to cheek, smiling, eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky, paint covering their faces in various colours and shapes, making them prettier and pretty colourful.

____________

I hope you liked it!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I would love to answer them! And feel free to check out my blog for more information!

Tagging: @thelaziestgeek @lux-et-tenebra @mindnumbmikey @starlightheir @guthiix @iamthebonecarver @tswaney17

(if you want to get tagged, just let me know!)

[love-the-little-wonders]

Face to FaceTime

Summary: Tired of being isolated, Adrien reaches out to his friend in hopes of finding some comfort late at night. Adrinette <3

The sound of loud rumbling thunder fills the emptiness of his expansive bedroom. Adrien blows against his windowpane and draws a frowny face on the glass. Once again, his father confined Adrien to his room. He hasn’t seen his friends in what felt like forever. Normally, he’d use his isolation as a chance to escape as Chat Noir but with the storm raging outside, transforming was out of the question. Adrien looked to his small kwami friend and found him sleeping on top of a round of cheese.

Typical.

Adrien looked at the clock on his phone and it read 11:56 PM. He knew it was late but he decided to try to call Nino on FaceTime. Adrien stares at Nino’s smiling picture and it stares back at him as his phone rings and rings but Nino doesn’t answer.

Dejected, Adrien drags his feet as he shuffles towards his bed and with an ungraceful flop lays atop the blankets staring blankly at the ceiling. How many times has he looked up at this very ceiling and stared at the bleak nothingness that the white paint gives off?  Rolling over, Adrien looks over to his nightstand and sees his Marinette lucky charm. He grabs it and holds it over his head as he looks at it. Boy does he feel unlucky right about now. Rolling the bead between his fingers, an idea pops into his head. He recalls Alya berating Marinette on several occasions for staying up so late working on her designs. Maybe the designer is still up. It is Saturday night. Plus, after the events with Gorizilla a month back, they exchanged numbers and have texted on and off since. Staring at her contact picture, Adrien decides to call her. Pressing the FaceTime icon, Adrien waits for her to answer, the rings echoing loudly in his empty room.

The vibration of her phone wakes Marinette up from her impromptu nap at her sewing desk. Her hair is disheveled and she has scraps of fabric and loose thread stuck to her face. She answers the call without looking at who called her. She hears his voice before she can make out his face through her groggy eyes.

“Hey Marinette”

That woke her up. Marinette rubs away any leftover bleariness from her eyes and accidentally knocks her phone on the floor. She fumbles to get a firm grasp on it and promptly bumps her head on the underside of her desk.

“Ouuuch! A-Adrien calling me late ?! What are you calling at late- um I mean I mean it's uh kinda late aaand you're calling me?” She winced at her poor communication skills with her crush as she rubbed her head.

“Is it alright that I called you? I know it's kind of late…it's just my dad wouldn't let me leave the house again and with all of my photo shoots this week I missed school and I still had my extracurriculars. It feels like I haven't seen you guys in ages” His voice cracked from the emotion he was trying to suppress. “I really miss my friends and I miss hanging out with you, Nino, and Alya, y'know?”

This was a lot to process at 12 in the morning for a short-circuiting Marinette. Adrien Agreste considers her a close friend and specifically said he missed her. Well, her and his other friends, but still!! He called her! Marinette wanted nothing more than to freak out but she needed to keep it together for Adrien’s sake.

“ He’s feeling lonely and really needs a friend right now and that's what I’m gonna be,” she thinks to herself as she slaps her face between her palms, “ I can do this! ”

Adrien quirks an eyebrow at her antics but chalks it up to Marinette being Marinette.

“Y-yeah you can call me whenever you like! Just not like you know 4 in the morning or something or if I’m helping in the bakery or showering I won’t be able to answer…” Marinette’s eyes bugged once she realized what she just said. Embarrassment tinged her face and ears.

“Really?! That really means a lot to me, Marinette! Thanks!” He was relieved to know that he wasn’t bothering her and that she didn’t mind talking to him this late at night.

“You mean a lot to me” Marinette sighed.

“What was that?” Adrien asked.

“Oh uh um well I said...” Marinette was floundering. Did she just partly confess to her crush over FaceTime?! Should she hang up and pretend this never happened?

“ No!! Adrien called because he needs a friend! ” she reminded herself. With a deep breath, Marinette continued, “I said that you mean a lot to me. You’re my friend and it...it hurts to see you hurting”.

Adrien was taken aback by how sincere she was. Eyebrows knitted and mouth scrunched, Marinette looked like she had fire in her eyes. Her expression was oddly reminiscent of his partner against crime.

“But really, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on or if you need to vent, I’m all ears.”

“I’m all yours too if you want me to be,” Marinette thought to herself.

Adrien couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such amazing friends, especially a friend like Marinette. It made him happy to think about that but it also pained him even more because he wanted nothing more than to be able to spend as much time with them as possible.

Adrien sniffled and fought back the urge to cry in front of his friend. He shifted his position on his bed from sitting up against his headboard to rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin on his pillow and put his phone against his headboard. Hopefully, the pressure of the pillow could be enough to keep the tears at bay.

Marinette could tell that Adrien was hurting and suppressing his emotions just because he was talking to her wasn’t healthy. Softly she suggested, “you can cry if you want Adrien. It's ok. Everyone needs to cry every now and again and afterward, you’ll feel much better. I know I do.”

He really has been feeling miserable lately. Yeah, it sucked that he’s been seeing his friends less and has had a more rigid schedule than usual but what hurt the most was that right when it seemed like he and his dad had gotten closer, his dad decided to put even more distance between himself and Adrien. They had watched his mother’s movie together and it felt like he had a dad again. But that didn’t last long at all. His dad pulled away and put even more distance between them leaving Adrien feeling more alone and isolated than before. He missed his mom. He missed having a dad who cared even if he didn’t show it that well.

Adrien’s breath shuddered as he inhaled as he began to cry. Face down in his pillow he cried away his feelings of helplessness and loneliness. He didn’t call Marinette just so she could watch him cry but like she said, he really needed this.

While Adrien had his cathartic release, Marinette was overcome with guilt. ‘Oh no! I made Adrien cry!!! How could I be so cruel?!” Marinette thought as she dragged her hands over her face. Biting her nails, she grabbed her phone and quietly made her way from her sewing station up to her loft and into her bed. Sparing a glance to the little bed that she made for Tikki, Marinette checked to see if the little kwami was asleep or not. Marinette couldn’t seek the kwami’s advice while she was FaceTiming with Adrien but having her near was calming. Tikki was in fact fast asleep. Marinette sighed. She was just gonna have to navigate this new situation by herself.  Marinette nestled under her covers and set her phone against her kitty body pillow. A few minutes later, Adrien’s tears began to subside and his breathing became more regulated.

“Feeling better now?” Marinette asked. The whole time he was crying, Marinette wished that she could be with him in person and hold him. The thought made her face heat up but she really did wish that she could be there instead of on the other end of a phone.

With one last sniffle, Arien replied with a slightly raspy voice, “y-yeah”

“Hey, Adrien?” Marinette asked as she nervously bit her lip.

“Yes?”

“What do you get when you cross a lemon and a cat?” She asked as she looked down at her lap.

“Um, what?”

“A sour puss” Marinette had to admit that it was a pretty lame joke but she came up with on the spot so…

Adrien gave her a small smile as he chuckled softly.

“What do you call a cat that lives in an igloo?” Marinette asked with a smirk.

“What?”

“An eskimew” Marinette could honestly say that she was proud of herself for coming up with these jokes. It seemed like her kitty was rubbing off on her. Maybe that explained why she was only coming up with cat-related jokes.

At that, Adrien let out a louder laugh than before. “That was pretty cute.”

Marinette blushed and smiled to herself. She was happy that she could make Adrien smile.

“Can I tell a joke?” Adrien asked propping himself up on his elbows and he hugged his pillow.

“Sure”

“What’s a cat’s favorite way of keeping law & order?”

Marinette had a feeling that whatever Adrien was going to say, Chat would love it and eat it up.

“What?”

“Claw Enforcement”

Marinette was right. She grinned from ear to ear as she laughed thinking about how much of a field day Chat would have if he heard Ladybug say that joke.

“D-do you want to hear another one?” Marinette asked.

“I’d love to”

“Okay, I’ve got a good one.”

As Ladybug, Marinette pretended to be exasperated with her partner when he punned but she actually enjoyed them. She just didn’t tell him because he didn’t need another reason to have his ego fanned.

“How do cats end their fights?”

“How?”

“They hiss and make up,” Marinette said with a pleased smirk on her face as she mimicked a cat swiping their paw as she hissed and then made a kissy face. Who doesn’t like a good cheesy joke every once in a while? She wasn’t a stick in the mud.

Adrien seemed to really like that joke because he laughed so hard that he rolled out of bed. How that happened, Marinette had no clue. She was supposed to be the clumsy one. Adrien righted himself on the bed and thought to himself that he was in a much better mood than he was an hour ago.

Looking out his window, he noticed that the thunderstorm had blown itself out and was now a soothing sprinkle.

“I didn’t know that you were so well versed in the art of cat jokes, Marinette,” Adrien said with a relaxed expression. Gone was the storm that raged outside as well as within Adrien.

Marinette let out a small laugh “What can I say, I have a friend who likes to tell me cat jokes constantly and I guess they’ve rubbed off on me.”

Adrien wondered who this friend might be. He’d love to meet them and exchange notes.

They talked some more for another half hour. Marinette filled him in on the ongoings at school that he missed while he’s been gone. Max had brought Markov in again and had it play a game of basketball against Kim and the robot and boy had surprisingly tied, Alix debuted her graffiti art series at school in the main quad, and Rose and Juleka announced that Kitty Section would be performing for the upcoming open house. Adrien wished that he could have been there in person but it was nice to hear Marinette talk and fill him in. He told her about his latest modeling shoots and what his father’s new line was going to be like. At that, Marinette perked up and grabbed a nearby journal to take notes on what to expect. Adrien even mentioned that they would finally be debuting the bowler hat that Marinette designed and Marinette let out a sound of delight.

“Hey, Marinette?”

“Hmm?” Marinette looked up from her notebook to look at the blonde boy.

“Can we do this more often?”

“This? As in talk more?” Marinette asked as her heart skipping several beats.

“Well, that too. I like talking to you. I’m happy we’ve grown closer over the past few months. But I mean if I can’t make it to school or hang out with friends, that you’ll fill me in on what I missed?” Adrien asked with a sad smile.

Marinette really felt for this poor boy. How could his father be this overbearing to keep his only son basically a prisoner and keep him from things that brought him joy? She wished that she could do more but for now this would have to do.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best” Marinette let him know with a reassuring smile.

“Hey, I can do you one better. I can FaceTime you while hanging out with friends or at school or something if you're not there if you’re not busy” Marinette suggested.

“That’s a great idea, Mari!!” Adrien exclaimed as he pumped his fists in the air. “You’re the best!”

Marinette gave him a smile as her stomach filled with butterflies.

“I’m happy I can help,” she says as she stifles a yawn. She glances at her clock on her nightstand and read the glowing numbers 1:40 AM.

Adrien noticed her yawn and also took a glance at the time.

“Woah, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. It’s a good thing tomorrow is Sunday” he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes fighting back a yawn of his own.

“Thank you, Mari, for answering my call. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend” Adrien said as he gave her a heart-stopping smile. Marinette’s cheeks turned pink and she could feel them warm.

“You’re welcome, Adrien. I’m here for you anytime day or night.”

“I guess I’ll let you sleep now. Good night Marinette.”

“Good night, Adrien.”

They both stared at each other for another 20 seconds not wanting to be the first to end the call. Realizing that neither one was gonna do it, they both laughed. With another good night, Adrien reluctantly ended the call.  Adrien plugged in his phone to charge and snuggled into his blankets. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep after a few minutes.

Clutching her phone to her chest, Marinette laid awake in bed for another half hour heart still hammering thinking about what she had just done. She talked on the phone and FaceTimed with Adrien ( ADRIEN!!!)  for almost two hours and barely stuttered.

“Alya’s gonna freak when she finds out,” Marinette thinks to herself.  The sound of rain taps out a rhythm against her skylight and Marinette finds herself slowly drifting off to sleep phone still clutched to her chest.

The next morning Adrien was awakened by Nathalie at 7 AM. Despite only getting 5 hours of sleep, Adrien felt completely rested. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this rested. Even though it may mean that Adrien missed out on something yet again, he looked forward to his FaceTime calls with Marinette.

[that1nkyone]

Spectrum Ch 33

[ 1 ] -  [ 2 ] - [ 3 ] - [ 4 ] - [ 5 ] - [ 6 ] - [ 7 ] - [ 8 ] - [ 9 ] - [ 10 ] - [ 11 ] - [ 12 ] - [13] - [ 14 ] - [15 ] - [ 16 ] - [ 17 ] - [ 18 ] - [19 ] - [ 20 ] - [ 21a ] - [ 21b ] - [22] - [23 (Intermission) ] - [ 24 ] - [ 25 ] - [ 26 ] - [ 27 ] - [ 28 ] - [ 29 ] - [ 30 ] - [ 31 ] - [ 32 ]

So, remember when I said about... 8-ish months ago that this was gonna be the finale? Yeah, I realised that there was no way I could wrap everything up that quickly.

For now, here is a resolution to one character thread, and hopefully a fairly satisfying one. This was a challenge to do.

Thank you for your patience, those who’re still reading. Holy crap.

Chapter 33!

In which there is a very long and uncomfortable conversation.

Papyrus had held on.

He’d held on for as long as he could, simply because he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he didn’t.

He’d focused on the here and now. His brother’s forelimb in his jaws, claws digging into the steel. The scraping and screeching of metal as the multitude of hands around him dragged them closer and closer to their doom.

Papyrus couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he’d let go.

In fact… he couldn’t really imagine much, at the moment.

He felt groggy, that was for certain. Perhaps cold. He felt the gentle prod of his instincts lulling him to rest - he was hurt and tired. He needed rest.

But as Papyrus began to slip away into slumber, he felt his aching jaw and teeth -

- and realised that they weren’t holding anything, anymore.

His eye sockets shot open. He pushed himself up off the floor, his surroundings a blur. His head hung low, dizzy from the sudden motion.

< … SANS? > He asked, shakily.

No answer.

He couldn’t see anything in front of him. His surroundings were a dark grey, his head dizzy.

Papyrus felt a sense of dread, as the empty space around him seemed to close in on him.

< S-SANS?! > He cried out.

< hey. >

Papyrus spun on the spot.

And the blurred visage of Sans stared back at him, startled.

The smaller Blaster was on the ground. He looked woozy - like he’d just been woken up. He lay on his belly, his forelimbs folded beneath him - while his back legs were sprawled to the side, his right one still fractured and precariously hanging on to the rest of his body.

Papyrus could barely make out his features. But he appeared concerned.

< … you’ve been out a while. > Sans said, quietly. < you feelin’ alright? >

Papyrus barely restrained himself from lunging at him in full force. But he fell to his brother’s level, hurriedly managing to wrap a forelimb and his own skull around Sans’ shoulder.

< ASK ME AGAIN IN A MINUTE. > He said, shutting his eyes.

He felt Sans chuckle.

< … alright, bro. >

Papyrus stayed like that for far more than a minute.

But as he slowly began to calm, he reopened his eye sockets. He blinked, suddenly taking in their surroundings as his vision began to clear.

They were no longer in the CORE.

In fact, they weren’t anywhere that even looked the slightest bit familiar.

< WHERE ARE WE? >

Papyrus felt Sans stiffen. He blinked, as the smaller Blaster pulled away from him. He seemed to be turning away, his visible eye socket going dark.

It was only then when Papyrus noted how chalk-white and cold his brother’s bones looked.

Colourless.

< … WHERE ARE WE? > He asked again, quietly.

Sans didn’t look back at him.

< … see for yourself, bro. >

The place they were in seemed endless. Cold, and empty. Papyrus could see no end to it - it was if they were in a massive blank space.

Nowhere. Nothing.

It would have been dark, thought Papyrus, if he and Sans didn’t seem so stark white against it.

< … i tried. > His brother said, quietly. < i jumped. dragged us… somewhere. i was hoping it’d be away from… you know. this. >

He looked up. Papyrus followed his gaze, suddenly aware of the sound of a dull roar.

Above them were several large, open black rifts - far, far above them. They were drawing in what appeared to be particles of static - much like the television whenever MTT wasn’t on, Papyrus noted.

< we fell from up there. > Sans continued, quietly. < … surprised we didn’t break anything else on landin’. >

Papyrus spun to his brother, blinking. He was still staring upwards at the rifts.

< AND… AND YOU CAN’T ‘JUMP’ BACK UP? > He inquired, trying to disguise the tremble in his voice.

There was a pause.

Then, Sans finally turned to face him.

Papyrus’ eye sockets grew wide, as he saw his brother’s features clearly for the first time.

Cracks snaked up from Sans’ eye socket. They stopped just short of the tip of his leftmost horn - and blackened burns seemed to sweep off to the side of his socket.

< … that last jump took a lot out of me, bro. > He said, quietly. < can’t… really focus things. >

There was another pause.

Papyrus stared hard at Sans. At his chalk-white skull, at all the cracks and scarring. He heard the muffled, distant roar of the rifts far above them.

He stared through Sans, at the endless, yawning space that was the Void.

< … IT’S STRANGE. > Papyrus said, ignoring his sternum going tight.

Sans blinked. < what is? >

< THE CORE WAS SO COLOURFUL. > Papyrus continued. < IT’S STRANGE THAT IT LEADS TO A PLACE LIKE THIS. >

There was another silence. Papyrus approached Sans, and sat down next to his brother, swallowing thickly.

He tried not to think too hard, for once. He simply turned to stare at the Void.

< … ‘least we didn’t get separated. > Sans said, softly.

Papyrus turned to him, and the sight of his brother almost made him wince.

He looked so tired. Resigned, almost. As if he’d already accepted that this was the way things were going to be, from now on.

It almost made him mad.

But Papyrus was tired, too. And his focus returned to what he could do. With a deep sigh, he looked over to inspect his brother’s leg injury.

And blinked.

< … SANS? >

< yeah, bro? > The smaller Blaster was still staring dazedly at nothing.

With a huff, Papyrus rose to all fours and nudged his forelimb. Sans looked over at him, startled.

< what? >

< YOUR WRIST. LOOK. >

Papyrus was still staring at what remained of his brother’s tattered sleeve.

Most of it was a dull grey - just like the monsters he’d met that had slipped out of existence. The sight nearly compelled him to look at his own body and wonder what colour had been stripped from him.

But instead, he stared at the sleeve.

Or specifically, the small blotch of blue that still remained on it.

< … huh. > Sans muttered, blinking slowly. His eyelights returned. < … wasn’t like that the last time i looked at it. >

Papyrus blinked. Then, looked down at himself.

Small patches of red remained on the material around his wrists. And even his claws - chalk-white for the most part, had remnants of his usual yellowish tint.

< … WE DO STAND OUT. > He said, looking around. < ARE YOU SURE WE’RE IN THE VOID? >

Sans looked around. < … don’t see how we… couldn’t be. >

He didn’t sound sure. Papyrus could see it on his face, too.

< … YOU SAID WE FELL IN FROM ONE OF THOSE RIFTS. > He pressed, looking up around them once more.

Sans nodded, uncertain. < … yeah? >

< HOW DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD… ‘JUMP’ WHILE WE WERE FALLING INTO THE CORE? > Papyrus asked, perplexed.

Sans blinked, turning back to face his brother.

< … i… >

He frowned. Papyrus watched his gaze sharpen.

< …i didn’t. >

At that moment, Papyrus realized that Sans was staring past him.

He spun around - hearing Sans also rise unsteadily to his feet. And there, ten feet away from them, was a dark shape. A shadowy lump.

Papyrus wondered how he’d missed it, the first time he’d looked around.

He supposed it blended in quite well with their surroundings - but still, it seemed as if the figure had simply materialised out of nowhere.

The taller Blaster peered closer at the other being.

And spotted a familiar skull, rising from the black shape.

He found himself stepping directly in front of Sans, as several white hands materialised out of thin air around the being. They darted to the skull, holding it steady and carefully.

Papyrus stared as the hands slowly fell away from the monster’s lowered head.

And Wingdings Gaster stared back.

“… Sans?”

The young skeleton’s skull lifted from his paperwork, his pencil clattering to the tiled floor with the motion. Nodding off hadn’t been the intention, here. He’d just felt kinda… weary.

“… m’listenin’.” He mumbled, shaking his head.

He looked up to see the tall form of Gaster, staring at him from across the room. His mentor had been standing in silence, sipping from a mug of something black and exceptionally bitter.

“… We don’t need this to be completed tonight.” He said, not unkindly. “… I said I needed those papers from you ASAP, not immediately.”

Sans shook his head, blinking rapidly. “heh. ‘xactly. ‘as sleepy as possible.’”

The two skeletons were in the break room, within the CORE facility. The CORE’s light could be seen, filtering in through the window. Everything was cast in a dim blue.

It was the end of a fairly short work shift in the evening, but the young skeleton could barely keep his eye sockets open. He sat at the mess table, a single electric lamp making the white paper sheets glare up at him.

“I would rather be up-to-date with your performance review.” Gaster sighed, slowly approaching him. “However, you’re not at your best. Especially not as of late. I’d rather we do this when we know you have a clean bill of health.”

Sans glanced up at him, wincing.

“… just kinda wanna get it over and done with.” He muttered.

It had been a week since he’d been finally permitted to return to work, after the CORE Fragment incident.

He’d been housebound for nearly a month, and the last few days he’d been itching to do anything but stare at the ceiling.

“There’s always a little more time.” Two, holed skeletal hands materialised above Sans’ papers, picking them up and straightening them out. “We’ll come back to this tomorrow, when you’re well rested. Alright?”

Sans sighed, pushing himself back from the table.

“okay, doc.”

He felt heavy as he let himself drop to the floor. The dim lighting was making him feel sleepier than usual.

He kinda hoped Papyrus wouldn’t be too hyperactive when he came back home. He loved his little bro dearly - but he also loved sleep. And those two parts of his life never crossed over well -

“Sans?”

He was startled out of his thoughts by the doctor. Blinking, he turned to face him.

“yeah, doc?”

There was a pause. Gaster had a thoughtful expression on his features as he gazed out the window, out towards the CORE.

“…I have been meaning to ask… What do you see yourself doing, in the future?”

Sans blinked.

“… the future?”

“Yes… that is, if you don’t mind me asking.” He added, suddenly uncrossing his arms and holding his hands up.

Sans shrugged. “… goin’ home and goin’ to bed?”

He grinned when Gaster gave him a flat look.

“…I should have specified ‘career-wise,’ but I feel you already knew that.” He said, raising a brow.

Sans scratched the back of his skull. “heh, yeah. still, that’s a big question to throw at me, doc.” He looked back up at the doctor. “this part of the performance review?”

Gaster waved his hands, startled. “Oh, no! Certainly not! It’s simply something I’m curious about, considering how you’ve been working with us.”

Sans tilted his head. “like… the long-term future?” He shrugged. “… i dunno. i don’t got a lot of ideas. at least, not anything realistic.”

Gaster blinked. “‘Realistic?’”

Sans shrugged, sheepish. “i mean that… my ideas for it are kinda dumb.”

He looked up at Gaster again. “i like working with you guys. i mean, that sounds like a good future to me.”

The doctor gave a brief smile. Still, he looked a little concerned.

“… What do you mean by, er… ‘non-realistic?’” He pressed, carefully. “You’re already quite talented at chemical engineering, at such a young age. I don’t believe there’d been many things out of your range.”

Sans glanced away, mulling the words over in his head. Then, he looked back at the doctor.

“… i kinda thought astronomy would be pretty cool.”

There was a long pause.

Sans was aware of Gaster’s expression growing blank. The young skeleton shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

“heh, told you it was dumb.” He shrugged, looking out the window. “seems pretty cool, is all. just how stuff seems to work, out there.”

He glanced back at Gaster. “but uh, since that ain’t happenin’, i figure theoretical physics and chemistry, and engineering can’t be all bad a replacement, right?”

There was another silence.

Sans realised that his mentor was now staring out the window, out to the CORE. His spare hands seemed to be clutching his paperwork fairly tightly.

But his expression seemed somber.

“… I suppose they’re not so bad a substitute, no.” He said. “Even if it can pale a little, in comparison.”

Sans blinked, as Gaster turned to face him with a small smile.

“Studying celestial objects would be a lot more exciting, though.” He chuckled. “I would be most interested to learn what’s beyond this very planet.”

The younger skeleton blinked, as Gaster looked back at the CORE.

“… Though, I feel we have something close to that, right here.” He said, gesturing towards the chamber.

Sans looked back at the CORE, giving a small grin.

“heh, yeah.” He walked over to the window, stretching out his shoulders. “s’like we have a little star, right here in the underground. or, uh - close to that, anyway.”

As he spoke, Sans noted the huge sphere of energy begin to ripple, and spark. Streaks of yellow and violet seemed to speed across its surface.

A low hum encompassed the room. A fizzling crackle sounded.

The young skeleton stumbled back, as pain bloomed from his eye socket. His hands both shot to his skull, gripping it tightly.

“Sans?!”

He could hear Gaster hurry over to him, and he grimaced, shaking his head. He was already tired of folks fussing over him for this past month.

… his skull still felt like it’d been cracked, though.

“i’m fine.” He grumbled, looking up at Gaster. The doctor had knelt to his level, looking closely at Sans’ CORE eye. The room was flickering yellow and blue, but the lights faded as quickly as they’d come.

“I’m still taking you to the infirmary.” He said, pointedly. “Reno should still be around - we’ll give you a quick checkup before we take you home. Alright?”

Sans’ head hurt too much for him to argue. Giving a small nod in resignation, he let Gaster slowly begin to escort him out of the break room by the shoulder.

“… think i prefer seeing stars from a distance.” Sans groaned, massaging his eye socket.

He felt Gaster pause in his stride. Blinking, he looked up at the doctor.

Gaster was staring over his shoulder, directly at the CORE. His expression was difficult to read.

“…Yes.” He said with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them shuffled out of the room, the door closing behind them.

Silence surrounded the three skeletons in the Void.

Gaster stood, poised and wide-eyed at the Blasters before him. Sans stared back, cautiously transfixed by the old monster.

He looked very different from when he’d seen him last. Gone was his torso and his legs. Even his legion of arms and hands had vanished.

In fact, he had no arms at all. Simply two skeletal hands, floating disconnected at his sides.

Gaster’s body was now little more than a spectral lump of black, his white face atop what could pass as a neck and shoulders.

His ‘back’ was hunched, his eyesockets wide. His eye lights had shrunk into pinpricks.

Sans spotted a movement out of the corner of his eye. Papyrus had stiffly approached his side, staring hard at the doctor - and taking a step in front of Sans.

The recent memories of their interactions sprung to mind. Of course Papyrus was on guard. Sans was in no state to defend himself.

Regardless, nobody moved. Not even Gaster himself - who remained rooted to the spot. He had not once stopped staring at Sans.

The Blaster swallowed.

< … heya, doc. > He found himself saying.

Gaster’s expression twisted into anger.

“Stop.”

His figure grew more hunched as he backed away from the Blasters, a second pair of hands materialising at his sides.

Papyrus blinked in confusion, stepping out of the way as the smaller Blaster took a step forward.

< just saying hi. > He said, numbly. < doc. >

“Don’t you DARE speak to me…!!”

Gaster hovered back, his eye sockets wide and furious. His third pair of hands had materialised, clawed and threatening.

Sans saw him trembling.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Either of you.” He said, firmly.

Papyrus wordlessly glanced back over to Sans. Sans’ gaze remained fixed on Gaster.

“Do you… do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

Gaster’s words sounded almost muffled, but Sans noted that the doctor’s gaze had been cast to the floor. His hands were clenched to his sides.

“All this work.” He said, his expression cast into a snarl. “All of my efforts, my sacrifices. F-for nothing.”

The smaller Blaster found himself feeling… almost faint. Tired. He wasn’t sure why. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to think on it.

A dark haze clouded the edges of his vision. He almost felt like passing out.

“You did this. It was all you!” The doctor cried, his voice wavering. “Your fault! All because… you didn’t do as I - “

< EXCUSE ME. >

Gaster let out a startled yell. Sans’ gaze shot up, his head spinning with the motion. His focus returned.

Papyrus had suddenly appeared at the doctor’s side - apparently while both Sans and the doctor had been lost in thought.

The spectre had flinched away from the taller Blaster’s slender snout, eye sockets wide.

Papyrus blinked.

< IT’S ALRIGHT. I DON’T PLAN TO SHAKE YOU AROUND LIKE A CHEWTOY, THIS TIME. > He said, with a nod. < YOU TASTED GROSS, IF I’M HONEST. LIKE LIQUORICE? I DON’T LIKE LIQUORICE.>

There was a pause.

Then, Gaster leaned forward. Papyrus’ head rose, but he didn’t step back.

“… I told you not to come near me.” Gaster snarled.

< OH, YES! I UNDERSTAND! > The Blaster said, brightly. < BUT I’VE ALSO BEEN TOLD REPEATEDLY NOT TO LISTEN TO YOU. BY PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN MUCH COOLER, TO BOOT. >

The look that Papyrus received in return was nothing short of incredulous.

< I KNOW YOU’D LIKE TO BE LEFT ALONE, BUT I THINK WE’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOU. > Papyrus stated, simply. < AFTER ALL, I BELIEVE YOU DRAGGED US HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. >

Gaster had seemingly shrunk into his torso, his eye sockets simply wide. Papyrus stepped back, tilting his head in thought.

< … COME TO THINK OF IT, YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE TO BE HERE, EITHER. > He conceded.

Sans looked over at Papyrus, blinking slowly.

Heh.

“… Speak for yourself.” Gaster said, sourly. He backed away from Papyrus a few feet, before regaining his composure. “You two will be long gone from here, soon. Perhaps then I’ll finally have some peace.”

Sans blinked, looking back at him. Then, drawing in a steadying breath, he finally began to limp forward.

< whaddaya mean by that? >

Gaster, though now standing once more, had pointedly turned away from Sans.

“… You’re in the process of gathering yourselves.” He said, curtly. “Surely, you’ve noticed that you’re the only things in this place that have any semblance of colour.”

There was a pause.

Sans looked over at Papyrus, who was looking down at his claws, once more.

Sure enough, the red of his wrist wraps were slowly being restored. Red, square particles were steadily gathering on the surface of the material, blotting away the grey.

The process was slow. But a weight seemed to lift from Sans’ shoulders as he looked at his own tattered sleeve.

He let out a shaky laugh. The same process was slowly progressing up his foreleg. Even his bones, formerly a cold grey, were regaining their yellowish tint.

“It takes time to gather yourself.” He heard Gaster mutter. “Time I would prefer spending doing literally anything else.”

Sans looked back up at the doctor. He blended in quite well with the dark gloom that surrounded him. He remained slouched, his gaze still cast on the ground.

The smaller Blaster drew in a breath, at the sight of his expression.

< … ARE YOU ALRIGHT? >

Sans saw Gaster flinch, ever so slightly. He watched as Papyrus stepped around the monster, so he was facing him directly. The doctor didn’t return his stare.

“What do you think?” Gaster spat. “After everything you have done, what do you think?!”

< OH NO, I DON’T REALLY CARE ABOUT THAT PART. > Papyrus said, raising a brow. < YOU JUST… SEEM DIFFERENT. >

Gaster’s eye sockets went dark. Sans watched as the taller Blaster stepped back, in thought.

< … YOU SOUNDED REALLY FRIGHTENED, BACK THERE. > He said, in recollection. < WHEN WE WERE FALLING INTO THE CORE. >

Sans, feeling faint once more, watched Gaster closely.

< UNDERSTANDABLE, MIND YOU. >  Papyrus said, glancing down. < I WAS, TOO. >

He looked back at the doctor.

< … BUT I’VE NEVER… FELT SO MUCH FEAR FROM YOU. > He said, raising a claw up to his sternum in thought. < NOT IN ALL THE DAYS I’VE... 'HEARD' YOU? >

There was a streak of black. Sans saw Papyrus flinch back.

But instead of an attack, Sans quickly realized that Gaster’s quick movement was a retreat. He was darting directly away from the taller Blaster.

Focus returned to Sans.

With a snarl, he managed to hurl himself forward - directly into the path of the fleeing doctor. Sans skidded and stumbled a little, his damaged leg curling up to his flank - but Gaster froze in his tracks.

He reeled back, and Sans nearly expected him to dart away, again - but he seemed frozen to the spot. And, well, Sans couldn’t find it in him to move, either.

There was a long silence.

Sans could hear Papyrus slowly approaching the two. He could hear the quiet rattle of bones.

He pretended it wasn’t from his own body.

Sans slowly lowered himself to a sitting position, his leg throbbing from the effort. Hell if he knew how the dang thing was still attached, at this point. His back legs were splayed to the side, his forelegs planted firmly on the ground.

And yet, here he was, still looking down at the doctor.

Sans could see the doctor’s expression growing fierce once more. Gaster opened his jaw -

< that’s enough. >

- and closed it again. His expression had gone blank.

< you’re a pretty bad liar. > The blaster said, flatly. < take it from an expert. >

There was a pause.

< … ‘EXPERT?’ > Papyrus repeated, incredulous.

Sans glanced over at him, a little sheepish.

< tryin’ to prove a point, bro. >

The two Blasters looked back to Gaster, once more. He seemed to be unable to take his eyes off Sans.

< what i’m saying, is that you drop the act. and stop pretendin’ that you’re anything like the monster we were fighting ten minutes ago. > The smaller Blaster said, eye sockets narrowing.

There was another silence. Gaster’s eye sockets had gone dark.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked down to the floor, to across the space. Sans felt a brief pang of frustration, prepared to try pushing himself back up onto all fours to pursue the doctor once again…

“Don’t.”

Sans looked over to Gaster, blinking.

“Don’t pretend…” The doctor said, quietly. “… that he and I… are not one and the same.”

There was a silence.

Papyrus turned to face Sans, questioning. And Sans felt faint, once more.

< …you stopped us from bein’ erased, properly. > He found himself saying. < you coulda let us just fall. >

His eye sockets narrowed.

< you pulled us into the core and just… changed your mind? >

Gaster chuckled, dryly. Gone was the rage, and fear. His expression had become more tired, than anything.

“You saved yourselves.” He said. “I only presented an alternate route.”

< oh, miss me with that, doc. > Sans snarled, suddenly. His eye sockets had gone dark. < first, you wanted us to be useful to ya. and then when we kept being a pain in your side, you wanted us gone. >

His eye sockets narrowed. < so what the hell changed? >

“… Nothing.”

Gaster at least had the decency to avert his gaze. Sans, drawing in another shaking breath, looked down at him.

“Nothing changed.” The doctor repeated. “I… was simply a stubborn coward.”

There was a silence. Then, Gaster’s hand rose to his own chest.

It trembled violently, the closer it came to its destination. And then, the doctor snapped his fingers.

And there, glowing white and perfectly whole - was his SOUL.

There was a pause. Papyrus stepped back, blinking.

< AH. > He said, softly.

Sans tensed.

Yeah.

It was definitely an improvement, without the big and obnoxious gap in it, like they’d seen it last.

< so. > He said, numbly. < where’d you pick up that last soul piece? >

There was another silence. Sans realized that the doctor was trembling, again. He snapped his fingers again, and his SOUL vanished back into his spectral form.

“I didn’t find it.” He said, softly. “It ambushed me.”

Sans blinked.

< …’ambushed?’ >

An image returned to memory, and the Blaster suddenly froze.

The seeming hundreds of purple tendrils that had reached out from the CORE itself. He recalled being pulled by many hands, claws digging into the steel of the platform, Papyrus trying to pull him to safety with his jaws…

… and the sudden arrival of hundreds of white tendrils that had reached out to their opposite.

Sans remembered the scream of fear that had come from all around them - as the tendrils were unable to pull apart from one another.

“… It… I … didn’t want to come back to me.”

There was a silence. Sans’ spines rose.

Gaster’s hands had risen to his head. His eye sockets had gone dim.

“… I didn’t want it to come back. If I did…”

His hands dropped back to his sides.

“… I would know that I was capable of everything that I have done.”

The red glow of Hotland’s magma seemed harshly brighter, to Undyne.

The captain had always loathed Hotland in many ways, but now the place seemed even more hostile than usual. The air was drier, searing on her scales. The heat was unbearable. She wondered how anyone could tolerate living here by default.

She held the unconscious Frisk tight to her as she ran, glancing over her shoulder to see the entrance of the MTT Resort.

The lights inside the windows were flickering rapidly. The hum of magic electricity grew louder within the bright, neon sign of the establishment. Several bulbs started to burst under the surge, the glass shards glittering in the glow of magma.

“Alphys!” Undyne spun to the lizard, who had been keeping pace beside her. “How much more do we gotta run?!”

The scientist didn’t look back at her, eyes fixed ahead. But Undyne saw her expression scrunch up in thought.

“I-I’m not sure!” She yelled over the din. “But I don’t think we should be inside any buildings! O-or near any puzzles!”

Undyne’s gaze returned forward as they ran down the rocky stairs. The nearby elevator tower was groaning, steel panels being blown off the structure and revealing scorched circuitry.

“The CORE powered the entire Underground!” Alphys wheezed. “I don’t know what scale of an energy surge this is all going to cause!”

Undyne’s gaze suddenly shot forward, an arm shooting out to grab the lizard by the arm. They skidded to a halt.

“Then let’s not go that way!” She yelled, looking down the second flight of stairs.

A loud, crackling noise echoed through the cavern. The duo stepped back, as they saw the Multicolour Tile Puzzle activate below the rocky stairs.

“Oh, good.” Alphys said, meekly.

The tiles were starting to crackle - the blue ones bubbling and steaming, and cooked pirahnas rising to the surface. The air was pungent with burned citrus, and arcs of electricity jumped from yellow tile to yellow tile.

“Where’re we gonna go from here?” Undyne yelled, looking around. “There’s nowhere to go but buildings!!”

A bubble of electricity surrounded the captain, and Undyne looked down to see that the scientist had managed to encase the trio in a protective shield.

The deafening noise was muffled, save the buzzing hum of the magical electricity. Undyne glanced down at Alphys, who looked back up, her gaze fierce.

“I-I think I can suffice, for now.” She said, sweat beading her forehead. “W-we’ll know when it’s over.”

Undyne would have kissed her then and there if not for the situation. Instead, she stuck close as Alphys stepped to the left of the stairs, past the rocky ledge and out into the open air of the caverns. The elevator tower at the end of the platform sagged and groaned, the structure finally giving in to the power surge.

And there, across the sea of magma, was the immense structure of the CORE.

Undyne could already tell that it wasn’t doing so well. Whether it was the heatwaves causing the image to distort, or several of its support beams really were drooping, she wasn’t sure.

The magma itself seemed to be glowing brightly - the surface becoming almost white and colourful, as the magical energy leaked into the lava itself.

The two monsters watched, Undyne still clutching Frisk. And as a crescendo of screeching metal grew louder and louder, the captain saw the shield around them flicker briefly.

She looked down questioningly at a pale Alphys, still staring at the CORE.

“… I-I never packed my things.” She said.

And a piercing, bright light suddenly filled the entire cavern of Hotland.

The shockwave of energy hit Alphys’ shield, making her stumble. Undyne held firm behind her, keeping her standing. The shriek of an electricity surge echoed throughout the cavern walls.

Several things happened.

When Undyne’s vision returned, the only thing lighting up the caverns was the magma, itself. And beneath the ringing of her ears, she could hear a deep rumble.

The massive industrial pipes around the CORE seemed to slowly fold, like plastic. The hulking structure creaked and groaned, panels of steel falling free and descending slowly into the magma below.

The giant core of the facility descended slowly - caught on many pipes and reinforced support beams that gave out under its weight. It hit the magma with a colossal roar - a massive explosion of orange, glowing liquid splattering up around it and bringing down several other pipes that hissed and folded and fell.

The sight of the CORE was increasingly distorted by the heat, completely beyond recognition as Undyne and Alphys stood together, watching the structure collapse across the sea of magma.

There was a long silence.

“… You never packed your things?” Undyne asked.

“No.” Alphys said, still staring at the fallen CORE. “I was going to, after the whole shutdown was done.”

“Oh.” Undyne said.

There was another pause.

Then, the shield dissolved around them, and Alphys collapsed onto the rocky ground, wheezing. Undyne followed suit, falling onto her behind.

“… I can’t believe we’re not dust.” Alphys said, shakily.

The captain wiped the sweat off her brow.

“You totally saved our asses.” She grinned. “We wouldn’t have made it out without you.”

A halfhearted smile appeared on Alphys’ features, as she looked back up at Undyne.

“I-I guess we really are leaving the whole Underground behind.” She said, quietly. “Th-there’s no way we’re gonna be able to get back to New Home, at this rate.”

Undyne frowned. “Yeah. That is a problem.”

Alphys rose, shaking her head. “W-we’ve still got the old exit.” She looked over to the right, down the layers of rocky platforms. “Back in the Ruins, I mean. I-I think it’ll take a while, but - “

A small buzzing sound interrupted her. Blinking, both she and Undyne looked at Frisk, who was stirring. Their eyes opened, blearily, and they gazed up at the captain.

“… Hello?” They mumbled.

“Holy carp.” Undyne muttered, sitting down and setting Frisk down into a seated position before her. “You slept through an explosion.”

“Frisk!” Alphys hurried over, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, we - we were just focusing on getting out of the CORE a-alive, and you just - we just - ”

“Whoa, whoa…” The human shook their head, blinking the sleep away. “I’m okay…”

They winced suddenly, looking down at their arm and leg.

“M-Maybe a little bruised, though.”

Undyne winced.

“Yeah, you sure did crash pretty hard.” A grin suddenly appeared on her features. “That was some fancy flying, though, dude! I didn’t know you could work a jetpack so well!”

Alphys gave a shaky laugh, appearing relieved. “Yeah! Y-you left Gaster in the dust long enough for us to put our plan in action!”

Frisk gave a grin.

Then, it faltered.

“Wait.”

Slowly, they stumbled to their feet. Undyne kept a hand on their shoulder to steady them, as they turned to look at the fallen structure of the CORE.

The human was silent a moment.

Then, they turned to face the captain.

“… Wasn’t there someone else with us?” Frisk asked.

And the crawling doubt that Undyne had shut down during their escape suddenly returned, tenfold.

“Wh… I don’t think so.” Alphys said, blinking. “I-I mean… we wouldn’t have left anyone behind, right?”

“Not that we remember.” Undyne said, suddenly frowning hard.

There was a silence. The three of them looked at one another.

And then, a loud buzz sounded.

“Gk!” Frisk looked down, startled. Then, they reached into their pocket, taking out their phone.

Undyne blinked. “Hey, what’s wrong with it?”

There was another silence, as Frisk flipped open the phone, blinking.

Their eyes went wide.

“… Nothing.” They said, shakily.

Alphys looked over at them, wide-eyed.

“What do you mean?“

Frisk looked over at the two monsters. The human had seemed to have suddenly gone pale.

“So… I have some good news and some bad news.”

Undyne blinked. “Hit us with it.”

Frisk took in a deep breath.

“The good news is, phone reception is definitely working, again.”

Alphys’ eyes shone, her claws over her mouth. “R-Really?! That’s amazing! Oh, thank God!” Tears welled up, and she exhaled, trying to calm herself. “W-we’ve been cut off for so long!!”

Undyne grinned at her, before turning back to Frisk - who seemed a little less enthused.

“So, what’s the bad news?”

The human looked up at her, lips pressed together.

“Um.”

They finally held the phone screen out to Undyne, who swallowed dryly.

There were approximately 64 missed calls, and 413 text messages from Toriel.

“… I think we’re in trouble.” Frisk said, quietly.

Deep in the darkness, the three skeletons remained facing each other.

Papyrus had given Gaster a bit of space - though it seemed less out of the Blaster’s comfort, and more for the doctor’s peace of mind. Or at the very least, to ensure he stayed put.

It wasn’t something they really had to worry about now, Sans realized.

There was no running, no chasing, no shooting. No screams. No arms (he didn’t think forelimbs counted, exactly).

Just Gaster, standing there. Doing nothing but stare a hole in the floor.

None of it felt real to Sans. Maybe that was the general feeling one had when they had a foot in the door of existence.

< so. > He said, quietly. < all that talk of you bein’ complete? >

“Delusion.” Gaster said, flatly. “Or… wishful thinking.”

Sans chuffed, still a little absentminded.

It was strange, seeing him like this. No arms sticking out of his back - no mumbling under his breath. No speaking to himself, no trying to split himself apart…

He was still, and hunched. And small.

Sans blinked, looking down at him.

Had he always been that small?

“… I didn’t want to believe it.” Gaster said, quietly. “And… parts of me… already knew what I was missing.”

One of his hands rose, to gently massage at his shoulder. Sans watched another hand gently grasp at the crack at his head.

“… but part of me dominated. Unbalanced. Insisting that things were ideal.” Gaster muttered.

A small smirk appeared on his features. “I thought I was at my prime. Undeterred.”

< ‘PARTS’ OF YOU… >

Sans looked over at Papyrus. He had sat down, tapping his tail on the floor in thought.

< … SO YOU WERE QUITE LITERALLY AT WAR WITH YOURSELF, THEN. > He said, blinking. < I WAS WONDERING WHY YOU WERE SO TALKATIVE. >

Gaster looked up at him, momentarily startled as Papyrus lay down to face him, properly. It made Sans tense, slightly - seeing his brother’s exposed skull so close to the doctor.

< SO, HOW DID YOU PULL YOURSELF BACK TOGETHER? > He said, frowning.

Sans glanced back at Gaster, who clutched at his own hands.

“… Someone made me see reason.” He said, blinking. “More or less.”

There was a pause. Then, he looked back up at Papyrus.

“The remaining part of me… had been happy to forget that it was ever a part of the rest of me.” He said, softly. “It stayed hidden in the depths of the facility.”

Sans blinked, looking over at Gaster. The image of a tall, slender form with a large head returned to memory. Glowing and white.

“… ‘Memoryhead,’ the doctor called me.” Gaster said, quietly.

Papyrus looked back over at Sans, who’d narrowed his eye sockets.

< … that thing’s been hanging around al’s lab for years. > He said, blinking slowly. < you’re tellin’ me it was there while you were in the void? >

The doctor rubbed at his temples. Sans stared harder at him.

< … how long’s it been there? >

There was a silence.

< … WELL, LOGICALLY, SINCE BEFORE HE FELL INTO THE CORE. > Papyrus chimed in, standing back up.

It was a conclusion Sans had managed to reluctantly come to on his own. The part of Gaster in Alphys’ lab had been there for more than twelve years.

Before then, he’d been a far cry from the violet-eyed menace towering over him.

It lined up a little too perfectly.

< … how’d it happen? > Sans asked, his voice hard. < we were workin’ on some intense stuff. but missing a piece of your soul… that wasn’t somethin that fell into our line of work. >

There was a silence. Gaster finally looked over at Sans, tense.

“It fell into mine.” He said. “Or I foolishly believed it did.”

He looked down.

“The decision to tamper with my SOUL was my own.” He said, curtly. “My intentions of… what to modify may have differed… but I went ahead with the procedure, regardless of the risks.”

Sans growled. There’d been no reason to perform experiments on his own SOUL. His first (and horrifying) thought was that he’d been working on a prototype for the Mutagen - but that made no sense. Gaster clearly never had any Blaster features - and that line of thinking had appeared to start gaining ground after Gaster had modified his own SOUL.

It had to have been a concern the doctor had, before all that. Something like… magic.

Sans’ eye sockets dimmed.

Or an ailment.

< …you wanted to get rid of the CORE element. >

Gaster’s form tensed.

< the CORE element was in your SOUL. > Sans continued. < it was ‘interwoven’ - couldn’t be removed by normal means without damaging it, yeah? >

Gaster’s gaze met the floor.

“When I was first exposed to the element,” he began, “when the side effects of CORE exposure began to kick in… when it became apparent that I was witnessing a strange sort of time flow - I threw all my panicked efforts into creating something to remove the CORE element from my SOUL.”

A weak smile appeared on his features.

“An… extractor, of sorts.”

Gaster looked back up at the beast.

“I came close to completing the plans… but I was eventually talked out of it.” He muttered. “Val had a penchant for making me see reason.”

The doctor fumbled with his hands.

“Those plans were hidden away, discontinued. I thought to dispose them - but they were simply placed in the bottom drawer of my desk.”

(At this, Sans seemed to pull back, slightly.)

“Modifying one’s SOUL directly - extracting elements from them - was… unprecedented. Much testing would have needed to be undertaken.” Gaster continued. “It would have been too risky.”

He looked up at Sans.

“In the end, I chose to accept my fate - experiencing the pull of time, to the whim of each human that came down here.”

The doctor glanced aside. “And I’d soon worked it to my advantage, and the advantages of others.”

There was a silence. Papyrus tilted his head.

< BUT… YOU USED THIS ‘EXTRACTOR,’ ANYWAY. > He said, frowning.

Sans’ eye sockets went dark.

< … so, what made you change your mind? > He asked. His tone was suddenly quiet.

Gaster drew in a breath.

“… You arrived.” He said.

There was a sudden silence.

“… You arrived, in our crew. And thanks to our negligence, you were suddenly affected by the very same affliction.” Gaster said.

Sans could feel Papyrus’ startled gaze on him.

He sat down. Hard.

“I had barely managed to survive my own case, and here you were - developing the same symptoms.” Gaster continued.

He exhaled. “Or so I thought. It was enough for me to… dig out my old plans.”

Sans saw Papyrus moving out of the corner of his eye socket.

< YOU WANTED TO REMOVE THE CORE ELEMENT FROM SANS. >

“… it was a fool’s errand.” Gaster repeated. “What’s part of one’s SOUL cannot be extracted.”

He stared down at his hands. “… You’ve become… familiar with what happens if one tries to pull it apart.”

There was a long silence.

“I tried. And I failed. Instead of isolating the CORE element, it isolated part of my SOUL. The Extractor… could not handle a task this complex.”

< it self-destructed. > Sans mumbled. He remembered, twelve years ago, when Gaster had gone missing during the appearance of the sixth human. He remembered finding him, unconscious in the Old Labs, surrounded by debris of exploded machinery.

< … YOU WANTED TO PROTECT EVERYONE, BACK THEN. >

Papyrus’ voice sounded understanding - but not warm.

“… I did.” Gaster was chuckling. “I did want to protect them. But more importantly…”

His gaze lowered to the floor.

“… I wanted to fix things.”

His expression twisted into a frown. “I wanted to fix things. I wanted things under control. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer - but I wanted control over… over what I had created. That couldn’t be too much to ask.”

A delirious laugh bubbled out of him. “And I was desperate enough to believe that I knew what I was doing. That I would finally be able to contain whatever damage the CORE did. I believed that in my success, things would finally be fixed. Things would be amended.”

Gaster looked up at Sans, his gaze hollow.

“…And I did not tell Val, for fear that they would make me see reason.” He said, shakily.

Sans’s eye sockets went dark.

Gaster shook his head, chuckling darkly. “I am capable of harm, Sans. I have always been - whether my SOUL is complete or otherwise. Whether I am… this, or - ”

The smile left his face.

“… This stopped being a matter of intention, long ago.” He said, softly. “Make no mistake, Sans. I am the same monster who created the Extractor. I am the same monster who tried to turn you both into mindless weapons. And I am the same monster who nearly decimated the Underground, simply out of wilfulness.”

It was at that moment that the darkness around them seemed to shimmer. Sans blinked, noticing that their surroundings were becoming… more defined. Sharper.

There wasn’t much to see - but there were… edges. Walls. Corners.

… a plain, grey room.

“… You should be on your way back, soon.” Gaster interrupted his thoughts. “The surface is waiting for you, no doubt.”

Sans looked over to Papyrus. His brother was now stark against the dullness of their monochrome surroundings. His bones were obviously a yellowish tint. The material around his wrists had won back much of the scarlet they were supposed to be.

< WHAT WILL YOU DO? > He asked the doctor, quietly.

There was a pause.

“Don’t concern yourself with that.” Gaster said, his voice becoming cold, once more. “I’ll remain out of sight and mind. It’s for the best.”

For a moment, Sans simply looked at nothing.

He felt the small pull of his feral instincts. He was tempted to listen - maybe they’d numb everything a little. And well - he wanted out of these circumstances.

There’d been a good chunk of years that Sans had spent - wondering if he’d been at fault for everything that happened. The mutagen, the science crew - he’d even wondered if Gaster had changed because of… well, something Sans had done.

And in the end - he’d stopped thinking about it. He’d straight up suppressed it.

To have these answers dredged up wasn’t quite as satisfying as he’d hoped.

Gaster - Wingdings Gaster, the man who had been his mentor, the side of the person he had at least recalled fondly - was here in front of Sans.

And so was everything so very horrible about him.

< … WHAT ABOUT THE OTHERS? >

Sans blinked.

Slowly, he turned over to Papyrus, who had stepped forward. Gaster’s cold pretence had fallen away, once again. Instead, he looked startled.

“… I’m sorry?”

< YOU KNOW. > Papyrus said, blinking. < OWEL, RENO, SPRIG AND VAL. WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO? >

Sans was silent.

Slowly, his mind came into focus. The exhaustion seemed to ebb away, briefly.

< I IMAGINE IT’S ALL WELL AND GOOD IF YOU DECIDE TO SIT HERE AND DO NOTHING. > Papyrus said. < BUT… THEY’RE STUCK IN THE VOID, TOO. WHAT DO THEY WANT TO DO? >

Gaster looked down. Sans’ tail twitched.

“… I doubt they would want to speak to me.” He said, softly. “It would be easier if - ”

< ‘it would be easier?’ >

Sans’ focus returned to Gaster. His eye sockets had gone dark. His sternum had gone tight.

And Sans realized he was angry.

< so that’s it? you wanna wrap this all up? call this ‘done?’ just like that, doc? > He asked, tilting his head.

Gaster looked up at him, now. Startled.

Sans lowered himself so he was face-to-face to Gaster, who stepped back.

“…They wouldn’t benefit from anything I had to say.” He said, blinking. “If you wish me gone by your own means, then - “

Oh.

Oho.

< and i’m sure that’ll work out just fine. > Sans said, his tail twitching. < believe me, doc - i’d love nothing more than to forget about all this. you know, i get it. >

There was a silence. Sans felt Papyrus’ gaze on him.

< i’ve wanted things to be easier for people. > he continued, < but most of all, i wanted things to be easier for me. i didn’t wanna deal with those parts any more than i had to. >

Gaster’s own eye sockets went black.

< and it’d be easier for you, too. > Sans said, flatly. His eyelights reappeared in his sockets. He began to pace from side to side, the spikes bristling upon his back.

< you go and hide in the void. we never hear from you again. you can just… shut down and ruminate or whatever the hell you do around here - > Sans stopped pacing to face Gaster directly < - but you are not the only one involved in all this, doc. and i’m not gonna budge until you stop thinking that you are. >

There was a pause.

Gaster stared up at him, wordlessly. Sans didn’t know what kind of expression he himself had - whether his Blaster features were even conveying anything to the doctor.

But Sans could see fear. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was for. A Blaster standing tall above him seemed like the obvious reason. No, it was something else.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Sans glanced over at his brother, who huffed.

< MISTER GASTER. > He said, carefully. < IF YOU ARE SORRY, LIKE YOU SAY… YOU WON’T SIMPLY SIT AROUND DOING NOTHING. >

Papyrus looked back at Gaster. < EVEN SANS GOT OFF HIS BEHIND IF HE KNEW HE HAD TO MAKE AMENDS. > He added, tapping his tail thoughtfully.

Sans blinked at that. < pretty low bar there, bro. >

< SO IT SHOULD BE ENTIRELY POSSIBLE! > Papyrus added, raising his head with a wag of his tail.

Gaster stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“… It’s impossible to leave the Void.” He said.

< You did. >

Both brothers had spoken at once. Sans watched as the doctor went still, his summoned hands grasping feverishly at each other.

“… Those were very specific circumstances.” He whispered. But his expression went into a thoughtful frown. “… We don’t know if… if it was the piece of my SOUL that remained outside the Void that allowed me back… “

He frowned deeply. “…And how on earth would I re-create the circumstances of the CORE?”

< WE COULD DO THINGS ON OUR END, TO HELP OUT. > Papyrus said, blinking. Then, he turned to Sans. < COULDN’T WE? >

Gaster looked up at him.

“It would be risky of you to try.” He said, softly.

< i’m not saying it’ll be successful. > Sans said, turning from Papyrus to Gaster. His mind started to pick up the pace, rolling with more ideas than he’d had in a while. < i’m not even saying that we’d try it anytime soon. ‘specially not with the huge fissure in space we’ve probably created. it’d be years before we could even think about it… >

< WHAT I THINK WE CAN ALL AGREE ON; > Papyrus cut in, as Sans trailed off, still a little lost in thought < IS THAT YOU CAN’T DECIDE SOMETHING LIKE THIS FOR EVERYONE ELSE. >

The taller Blaster lowered his head to face Gaster directly.

< NOT AFTER ALL THIS. > He added, quietly.

Sans felt a small smile creep on the edges on his features. And Gaster, fixated on Papyrus, stood up straight.

“… I… suppose not.” He said, softly.

He looked quietly stunned, more than anything. Sans was pretty sure this was not the series of events he’d been anticipating.

Sans wasn’t sure what he himself had been anticipating, either. Instead of everything finishing here and now, it had been… well, prolonged indefinitely.

As most messes tended to be.

And the man before him - everything that had been said and done - everything he knew, and heard -

Sans didn’t know was he supposed to feel, now.

What was the right way to feel?

He remembered being told once before that sometimes there wasn’t one, in situations like these. Would’ve made things simpler if there was.

Sans chuffed, softly. He sure preferred things simple.

“You…”

He glanced up at Gaster, who was glancing between the two Blasters. His words seemed caught in his throat.

And Sans froze.

Gaster looked almost perplexed. It was a familiar expression - the kind he’d worn all those years ago when Sans had said something outside his field, or walking into an odd conversation between himself and Reno -

And a small part of Sans - a part that Sans didn’t want to exist, but a part that had been there this entire conversation, small and broken and hurt - saw a flicker of pride on his features.

And just as sudden as that, Gaster’s eye sockets closed.

“… you need to stop listening to an old fool like me.” He said, quietly.

Sans blinked.

< … what do you mean? >

And it was then, when Sans suddenly became aware of a strange sensation in his SOUL.

It was a hauntingly familiar hum.

It didn’t threaten to drown out his senses - not like the buzzing white noise had, way back when. It had no power over him.

But that buzzing had been quietly present this entire time. It had continued to reach into his SOUL, and clogged up the paths of his magic. The mutagen had responded to that call this entire time, warping Sans’ SOUL into something else entirely.

He blinked.

< … doc? >

Gaster didn’t look at him. Sans could hear the humming start to fade.

< SANS? >

He glanced over to his brother, who was looking around their surroundings.

The white room around them was now sharply in focus. The borders and space were now defined. It no longer felt they were drifting through nothingness.

Sans spun around, to see a small hallway that he hadn’t recalled being there before. And at its end was a simple, grey door.

A way out.

Suddenly perturbed, Sans spun back to Gaster. His form was slowly growing more and more transparent.

The Blaster, against his better nature, stepped forward.

< doc, wait - >

And the ground swirled beneath him.

And it was as if his bones had turned to stone.

Sans felt heavy - too heavy. His bones felt too cumbersome, his skull too weighty to lift. A daze settled upon his mind, and he felt his SOUL begin to flare - reaching out. Reaching back, pushing hard against the boundaries that had trapped it for so long.

He didn’t feel weak, oddly enough. It was just that he felt… wrong. He saw Papyrus collapse hard on the white floor, as the room seemed to pixellate around them.

And then, he saw four shapes of grey, fading in against the white before him.

Sans, suddenly gripped with terror, forcibly tried to keep himself upright.

Forcibly tried to stare back at the group of grey monsters who watched him from the dissolving Void.

Gaster, the only stark black amongst the white, had turned away. He slowly walked deeper into the room, not once looking back.

Sans’ vision blurred, but he still tried to step forward, lifting his great head. Two grey figures stepped forward, reaching back as if to curb him from coming any closer.

< wait - > He cried. < wait - ! >

He watched as his friends disappeared into the Void, once more.

And he was pulled away into a world of blurred blues and greens -

- then, blackness.

[superbadlydrawnallenwalker]

Drabble

Yeah I was in discord talking about a creative intrusive thought and was advised to write it. I have a serious case of IDGAF today so.

Summary—-

Kanda hasn’t fully recovered from the 6th laboratory incident, but is slowly working through it while learning about the world Alma and him wanted to see so much. Tiedoll, Marie and him are sent to a mission on England to retrieve one piece of innocence. And in the way back Kanda encounters something new. What is his reaction to a being whose only purpose is to make you smile?

And stealing @galimau ‘s epic line:

No editing, we die like mne

The busyness of London streets, with its chattering, mix of fragances and overall rutinal chaos, was enough to make the black haired child pop a vein.

“Can’t we really just take another road?” asked exasperated to the old man drawing the big clock tower with a worn out piece of chalk.

“Give me one more minute, Yuu-Kun. It’s your first time in London and you did a marvelous job fighting the Akuma” said the man without putting off his eyes from his drawing “Ma-kun why don’t you take him on a walk? There’s gotta be something fun to see around here. Use your golem to tell me where you are, ok? I’ll meet you there”

“Stop calling me that. Besides, I’m not really interested on that” said the kid crossing his arms. He was lying so blatantly.

“C’mon Kanda, there’s gotta be something interesting around here” Marie said

“There’s nothing”

“W-well, it has been a long time since I was in London. Before losing my sight” the kid suddenly untangled his arms in discomfort “I wonder how has the city changed while I was gone”

“...”

“Why don’t you two go on walk?” said the man not half finished with his painting of the tower, making the kid jump a little. “You could lend him your eyes for a bit, and tell him what you see. What do you think Ma-kun? Is it alright for you?

“I wouldn’t mind at all, master. How about you Kanda?”

The kid opened his mouth, but he closed it instantly, hissing a fine.

“Then let’s get going”

The big guy started walking, making the little kid trott to keep up his pace. When he was by his side again, he let out a deep sigh.

Walking by so many people talking was a nightmare for Yuu. But there were things that weren’t on the sixth lab that amused him. That he knew Alma would had liked to see too.

There was so many things he couldn’t describe to Marie, and felt a little embarrassed of not knowing something that looked so normal. That conclusion coming from the little smile Marie put after asking him: “why is that woman using the corpse of an animal on her shoulders?”

At some point, after some lame attempts to describe things, a person who was selling some kind of candy that was pinned to a wooden pole, offered them to buy the treat. Marie told him the candy was an apple covered with caramel. And without even thinking he asked what Carmel is. Marie just smiled and bought him one.

“here try it yourself.” he had told him when he handed him the treat “Its hard, so be careful with your teeth. “

He did as Marie said. It was really sweet. And hard to bite! But it was good. He tried to archive the flavor on his memory while they kept moving through the people. Secretly enjoying it. He thought that it was kinda good that Marie couldn’t see his half smiling face.

Suddenly an ovation made Kanda look in the direction of congregated people. They had reached an spacious part of the market. But it was so packed in that side that he couldn’t really see what they were admiring.

“What is it?” Asked Marie adjusting his headphones.

“I can’t tell from here, let’s try moving closer” Said the child walking in the direction of the noise.

“I’ll see if master is over with his painting” said Marie turning on his own golem.

What were the people seeing? The curiosity was killing him.

——-

The people’s faces while looking at his acrobatic acts was good, but the boy with funny paintings in his face was more interested on the paper that was in their pockets.

The boy turned his head to the man in a clown suit that was acting not being able to go above the big bouncy ball making a wave of laughs.

The boy couldn’t help but smile along the crowd when seeing Mana’s performance.

Mana made him a signal that only the boy could understand. So when the man finally got above the bouncy ball, he had some props on his hands.

He locked eyes with the clown and thew the props at him.

It was Mana he was talking about, so naturally, he let the first throw go all down. Doing a sappy face, he signaled the boy to throw them one more time. The boy threw the props again, but all were graciously catched while the man stayed on his place.

The people loved that kinda thing.

Then Mana got down the bouncy ball and started doing some panthomimes for the little children in the front rows, making balloon animals and so on.

The public laughed a lot. And then it was time to ask for tips. The boy had to snap out of the act of his own act and run to the tree where rheir things were. He took the cup hat by the props with his right hand, and extended it to the people doing a silly act himself. The people would gladly give them some change, except one kid. That when she saw the hat, she looked so weirded out that got it him weirded out too.

The boy had noticed it was the kid that hadn´t smiled not even once during the show. It was uncommon, but he didn´t put much thought into it. But looking closely, the girl was using a black coat with some metal rose on her chest. And...was that a sword?

“Ah Yuu-Kun, he´s asking for money.” suddenly said the man with a mustache with the same black coat.  “Here, like this” said the man throwing some coins in the hat. The boy made a little bow in grattitude. “Is to thank them for their work” 

The kid looked to be around his age, so how come she didn´t know something as simple as that?

“It wasn´t even that good“ the kid said aloud with a deep voice. Apparently she wasn´t a she, but a he. The long black hair deceiving the kid with the painted face. “If that´s it we should go now, Marie” The comment kinda angering him, the boy took the hat somewhere else a little annoyed. 

The boy could hear them discuss a little while as they went away.  

-----

By the time, the people were gone and the clown finally could wash the paint off his face, the sun had set. The boy who accompanied him was sitting in a tree nearby counting the money on the hat. It wasn´t a bad day, they could afford to eat something good that night. It had been days since the last time they have had something other than some bread and water. 

“How were we today?“ asked the man smiling with his face still wet from washing on the river.

“Good enough for a good dinner“ said the kid showing him the little piece of fabric with that day´s earnings. “It could´ve been more if that kid had payed“ he sighed, his auburn hair falling on his face.

“The one who didn´t smile? It´s kinda annoying when the kids in the public don´t laugh, indeed. Oh, well, what can we do about it now“  he laughed, taking his belongings with one hand. But he spaced out for a moment “...That´s weird”.

“what?“ The kid asked standing up and grabbing his things.

“I have the feeling that I have said that to someone before. I wonder who...“ The boy was silent. “Ok, Allen. Where should we go now? It´s already dinner time. Should we go and buy the beans you were talking about?“ the man asked smiling at the kid.

“Y-Yeah. That sounds good, Mana“ the boy followed in a small voice. 

“Alright! Let´s go!“ He exclaimed taking the kid by his left hand covered with a thick glove.

Both started walking toward the usual cheap place they went to when they had enough money to spend.

But the boy was a little worried about Mana. He looked at him. Not a single worry showed in his golden eyes. He never showed any other emotion. Like a mask of happiness trying to hide intense sorrow.

“Maybe you don´t remember it was me that you said that before. But that´s ok. As long as I can stay with you, I´ll help you remember little by little.” The boy squeezed his hand caringly “I´ll remember everything for you, if you ever forget again. “

“I´m your Allen after all”.  

And both kept walking while the lights in the street started to shine.

-------

Here it is. I hate writing this long on English cause, what´s grammar? Also is the first time I write a fic, so please don´t be hard on me. But anyways, hope you like it!